Mike Odeon's First Mass
: EXTRASOdeon smiled as he entered the Detention Center chapel's small sacristy
to prepare for his First Mass. He'd gone to Mass every day it was
physically possible since childhood, made Spiritual Communion
otherwise, and he'd thought himself long since resigned to not being
the celebrant. That resignation, he realized now, had been only
superficial; the anticipation he felt as he took out the stole Bradford
had given
going to the altar.
He studied the stole, glanced from it to the vestments hanging up, and
smiled again. He'd like to wear those, but it didn't seem too likely
he would; except in very unusual circumstances, Bradford had told him,
a Strike Force priest would remain in uniform, his only vestment the
stole. Odeon kissed the piece of cloth, then murmured the proper
vesting prayer as he put it around his neck.
The congregation and a server were waiting when he entered the main
part of the chapel, so he contented himself with a brief introduction
to the latter before turning to the altar. Since he hadn't had any
formal liturgical training, he was a bit apprehensive about how well
he'd be able to perform the ceremony, but his apprehension vanished as
soon as he blessed himself for the opening prayers. He was filled with
a sense of rightness and certainty, feeling himself absorbed in an
awesome Presence that would give him flawless guidance. He gave a
silent prayer of thanks, then lost himself in the glorious joy he'd
always imagined saying Mass would be. Joy became exaltation at the
Consecration, lasting until he finished giving Communion, then
returning to the lesser joy until he finished the final prayers.
When he returned to the sacristy and removed his stole, it was with
another prayer of thanks. That sort of direct guidance wasn't normal,
he knew, and he had no idea why an undistinguished Enforcement Service
officer would be granted such an exceptional--and marvelous!--grace,
but he certainly wasn't going to reject it. He also wasn't going to
bring the subject up, he decided. He wouldn't lie about it, of course,
if anyone noticed and asked, but he didn't care to make any claims that
might get him investigated by Church authorities. It wasn't that he
had anything to hide; he'd committed few sins beyond the chronic mild
profanity he couldn't seem to break himself of, despite his
intentions--and he'd confessed those and gotten absolution, especially
before saying Mass. He was definitely no saint, though, and with
Cardinal McHenry in charge of investigating miracle claims, he'd just
as soon avoid even a suspicion of claiming anything unusual.
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