Everybody called him Jack
or to distinguish the Jack’s in the pack – Jack O’Neill,
Reverend and commissioned officer, US Naval Reserve.
I only once heard him called Fr O’Neill,
self-described, when preaching a sermon.
He seemed to know about temptation,
its co-dependence on opportunity
and always gave a good sermon.
But this was the best –
at midnight Mass
in broad daylight: Antarctica, mid-1980’s.
He made the expected quip
about
telling folks back home he’d celebrated midnight Mass –
in sunlight.
Then
“I’m supposed to speak about Christmas
how it endures through the years
but instead
I’m gonna to speak about Christmas last year.”
He had been asked to lend hand at a nearby parish
a knockabout area with a flickering congregation
steady throughout the year
congested at Easter, road block at Christmas
could he? “ Sure.”
The local priest introduced him
then gave an update,
on a local family,
the mother ill, in hospital.
The father worked long, low paid hours
the women of the parish had organised meals and after-school care.
One noted the absence of Christmas presents
so …… gifts had been arranged
another … there were no holiday plans
so … money had been raised.
He thanked their efforts
and was hopeful they might end in mid February
“ and now Fr O’Neill will tell you about Christmas.”
Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry 