THE MOST MEANINGFUL EVENING MASS SO FAR
By: Iris P. Concepcion

The first thing I conditioned myself this Christmas is to not check on anything remotely connected with gadgets and the information highway.

My priest, a rotund, appealing speaker (he was delivering a point via word cadence) gave a notch higher meaning for the influx of various messages: the tweets are all the same.

I heeded.

Once I did, I actually lived for less, experienced a Vatican feel of a mass (University of Santo Tomas football arena), made people who are not normally givers, give, and delighted myself at the picture perfect shrieks of children who engaged themselves in an equivalent of ecclesiastical footrace for adults (one who could recite the Hail Mary in the loudest voice gets a trip to Alaska): gift bragging.

I do not know if there is a change of baptismal certificates this side of the planet but even the benefactors were shocked to find themselves sources of these wonderful surprises: their names were on the gifts where the immense word from is spelled out.

I, myself, did not give anyone anything but I am glad I wasn't singled out as one of the benevolent benefactors. There is a whole year to fill the gap up. Sniggers and smiles.

Santa Claus does not want chased; he wants to explain to this writer that his gang of reindeers and late night workers (they do plumbing, electrical fix, water connectivity, hair, pedicure and manicure, bake bread----toilers) do not simply create parks, they also have a surprise for adults. They were also sharing their music for free. Sleigh? Think of microphones instead.

Aside from the generous array of skyways and pathways that make pedestrians like me enjoy the pleasures of walking, they also showed me that even the poor can have access to world-class medical services. Not exactly the traditional practitioners of the hospital trade, they have improved the manner of getting lab tests and temperatures: these med gadgets look gorgeous and handy. My companion even went through the length of terming the equipment "cute."

Even the hospital's ward section can be decent, functional and excellent. It is clean: I have never been prouder of the people behind these improvements. They are given to people at the grassroots level.

It is another Christmas gift of wisdom and discovery.

Experiencing the best is not a luxury of the moneyed. Even those without can have an access to these traditionally nouveau riche enclaves. I count it as a meaningful blessing: it is trickling down to the mass, finally. That is Christmas at its best.

Instead of amassing large cache of worldly goods and multiplying families, I can sense that they are truly into tractors, vachoes, equipment that can be used in hospitals and other trades. They also produce rare but affordable, yummy stuff that do not scrimp on size. They are sooooo huge. It is not simply biscuit. It is BISCUIT. I had gobbled a marshmallow product that I thought at first was from the United States. The packaging is tremendously Hershey's-like (they gave this to the kids on my street). Upon reading the label, I found out that it is manufactured at Nicanor Roxas Street, Bgy. Domingo, Quezon City.

The Philippines can make stuff like this one: why hide the talent behind it?

I ate "bangus" and pancit with an old lady during Christmas Day, barehand. I was lent a liquid wash (a thing I have affinity for since way back) that was not removed from my biscuit tub when I was beginning to lose my soap. I also had these: hot choco milk, candies and a burger paid for by an elf in pink. A friend distributed candies long stuck in the refrigerator to the playing children. I think I made one cry: over the excess of not having grabbed the opportunity to correct the wrong when it could have been done.

His words: "Nagsisisi na ako Iris." I think he was sporting a boxed shin already. A Top Ten guy (great write-up at last--I sense a merging of two worlds) did it to him I suppose.

One of the corn kids actually thought of gifting me a burger when I am at my hungriest. Her words: "Natanggap mo na pagkain?" Apparently, she was given money from a baptismal event. She had it delivered. One of those Buy One, Take One offers.

She blew all her money in a computer game. She had a fit the other day why the corn would not get anything for splurging. She actually cried. I do not know why she wants me to brag: it is not just my cup of tea.

She was having games with guns being shot and I reprimanded her. It was back to doing manicures and puzzles.

My point being: this was a kid who once held me tight since a very engaging woman pointed a bubble gun at her. I was furious inside. Last Christmas, she got a bubble bin, but from the mouth of a rabbit with a grinding watermill. It is battery-operated and could form bubble foams that can cover the whole street stretch.

I mean, for fair deal, it was tops. Even the design.

And the Vatican-like mass: from the choir to the phalanx of priests who simply gave away what is the true state of our nation, it has got to be the most memorable celebration that I have attended in years.

Spoken in Tagalog, the celebrant spoke: "Sa di pa rin nakakaintindi." Followed by a loud bang. It is as succinct as a clip on a film. Even masses can be this opulent but elegant, grandeur but understated. It was a homily of hope, of giving free lanes to those who can do much to improve our state of affairs. They do not need accolades, they throw the tags away to those who need them.

One must give credit to that priest who battled it all alone in the preaching yard, sandwiched as he was in that arena of cymbals and bastions of godly roars. Even the hecklers had experienced the beauty of Yuletide words and their relevance to our daily existence.

And the choir. Always, the relevancy astounds. Since we do service to God, it is but proper to accord him godly praises too.

For the people behind this meaningful celebration: Thank You very much.

And yes, I just ate with Santa. He is tall and huge and XXXXXXLLLLLLL. He brought a coterie of winking old people who freaked me out with their film faces. I ate a super jumbo siopao and offered it to one of these guys: He refused and made an expanding square (subtext: you'll get fat). He never spoke. He put a siopao sauce to his noodles. Odd eating habbit. This is the famous place where a queer slogan is painted:

Una sa timpla. Una sa sarap.

I do not have any idea what it actually means.

The circle continues to go round and round and round and round and round and round and I am getting ultra........square.