A Viennese Christmas

“We are NOT paying to attend Mass.”  He stormed away from the cathedral.  I hurried after him, my boots crunching on snow in the square.  People were lined up in front of a sign that read “KARTEN/TICKETS,” but we walked in the opposite direction.

“It’s because the Vienna Boys’ Choir is performing,” I offered by way of explanation.  He whirled around so fast I thought his scarf might strangle him.

“Fine! Let them buy their tickets.  We don’t pay for Mass.”  He slowed his pace a little and I caught up.  We were tired.  We’d purposely stayed up for this event.  But he was right.  Boys’ choir or not, we don’t pay for Mass.  So we walked back through quiet streets, our feet cold and numb, back to the little hotel we’d found the day before when we arrived in Vienna for Christmas.

Subdued, we offered each other a sincere ‘Merry Christmas,’ and…