The Middle Ages of Sister Mary Baruch (Sister Mary Baruch, O.P. Book 2)

by Jacob Restrick

  “Indeed.” David laughed. “She was also a very devout Catholic. I think that’s probably why she didn’t marry me, but even before that, you know, we fooled around, you know. She would tell me she went to Confession and didn’t want to ‘fool around’ any more. I tried to respect that, blaming it all on Catholic guilt. Part of the ‘Catholic design’ was that sex was reserved for marriage. And the mind behind that design was probably an old celibate priest or bishop in Rome, or some pope.”

  “Uh huh.” I didn’t comment any further than that.

  “Of course,” David continued, “the Catholics got their initial design from the Jews. That design went back a lot further than any pope, or Jesus himself. This led me to think that all the world religions were just made-up designs by brilliant or charismatic leaders, like Buddha, Confucius, Mohammed, Moses, and Jesus.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s like the German philosopher Feuerbach thought. That God was just a projection of man’s mind—like his highest ideal of things.” Goodness, I didn’t know where that came from. I guess with all those years of classes by our Dominican Fathers, something stuck! “But at least, David, you see that Olivia’s reluctance to, I guess you’d say, ‘break the rules’ didn’t come from some old celibate pope, but in the Mind of the one who designed us…or at least designed our human nature.”

  David sighed: “Ah, but that’s the problem, the design is flawed.”

  “Oh, how right you are, and as Jews and Christians we both know what that’s called. Well, at least, we call it the original sin, I guess you say, the original break with the design, and because we didn’t make the design to begin with, we can’t fix it on our own…our minds are too simple, or too finite, or too—well, how can a broken mind fix its own brokenness? We’re all ‘broken vessels.’” I thought of the Psalm verse from Pope John Paul II, which Ezra carries in his wallet. David was thinking and after a moment went on.

  “I guess, and I’m going out on a limb here,” David was speaking slowly and thoughtfully, “that the Mind behind the design would have to fix it…and that’s what the Torah is all about.”

  “Wow! Are you finally becoming Jewish?” I didn’t mean that sarcastically; I was truly amazed. David laughed, a good old Feinstein laugh which I hadn’t heard in a long time. It brought back memories of Papa.

  “I guess I am. I don’t really have anyone to talk to about these crazy thoughts of mine, the ‘mind behind the design’ thing. You know Mama, she gets all tongue-tied with any kind of God-talk.”

  “Ah, yes, but she certainly knows the blessing behind the mind!”

  “True enough.” We both sat in silence with our own thoughts.

  David: “I don’t suppose you talk about the mind behind the design, inside there, do you?”

  “Well, we don’t exactly use those words, although I’ve heard that expression before. We do talk about how human beings are made in the image of –well, the image of the Mind, by having a mind ourselves…the intellect. And we talk about the ‘end’ of things—like, the purpose or the reason behind the design, you could say. Everything has an end, it would appear…”

  “And what you do say that end is?”

  “Well, you know, we all want to be happy. It would seem that everything we do, we do because we think it will make us happy. And it’s much more, of course, than simple pleasures, because these are all passing pleasures, like fleeting happiness. But you know better than anyone with all your patients who have missed out on happiness along the way and are still broken and wounded from it all. The mind can mess us up. But I’m telling you that? Oy.”

  David laughed again. He seemed younger when he laughed. “Yes…I see that. You see it so easily and clearly, I must say. I’ve had years of psychiatric training and study to come to the same conclusion.”

  “The Mind behind the design…” I said out loud. “I like the analogy of an artist or a sculptor who has the design in his mind, but once he begins to paint or sculpt he has wanted it, the design in his mind, to be formed outside. He creates it, you could say, and does so because he wills it to be so. So the Mind also has a Will.”

  David picked up on my reasoning here. “So if we are the human design in the Mind then he or it has willed us into being.”

  “Yes, that’s it, isn’t it?” I tried to sound like I was thinking these thoughts for the first time. “We don’t really call Him the Mind or the Willer, but the Creator.” Lord, here I am talking simple Baltimore Catechism with my brother, the doctor, who has travelled and lectured all over the world. Oy vey, what a world we live in!

  Saved by the bell, meaning, the bell for Sext rang, and I told David I had to go in for prayers and dinner, which was true. And I think he was ready to take a break too.

  “What’s the restaurant you’re planning to go to?”

  “Oh, it’s called Athens. Modern Greek cuisine.”

  “Well, the modern stuff, so I’ve heard, doesn’t come in large portions. I hope you’ll find some lunch-time happiness there.” He laughed.

  “It’s a test run. If Mama won’t travel the world with me, I’m bringing the world to her, at least the world’s cuisine. She kind of got into it on our last cruise. So we’ve been to a Cuban restaurant, down below 72nd Street on the West Side. Ethiopian where we actually sat on the floor, on a mat, with pillows at the back. Mama did all right for the meal, but we got a fit of laughter, the both of us trying to get up. And she liked a new Vietnamese restaurant on 10th Street in the West Village. So this is a little more western, we’ll see. She thinks Greek cuisine is shish kabobs and spinach salad.”

  “I think it’s great you’re getting her out of the apartment and eating in places she’d never go on her own. Papa was never one for experimenting or trying new places.”

  “I know, except for Italian and Chinese. Mama is actually quite adventuresome. And she’s not kosher, so I don’t have to worry too much.”

  “Too much?”

  “Well, you know, she still shies away from pork and shrimp.”

  “And bacon! Oh, I’ve got to run…I’ll see you at 3:00 o’clock.” And I rushed out the door, going to Office with thoughts of final ends and shish kabobs running through my head.

  After dishes, I went to our cell and sat in Squeak, reviewing my morning parlor with David. And I prayed to Our Lord that He would give me the right words to say. “I know, Lord, that You love David more than Mama and I do. And that Your ways are hidden and mysterious.” And I prayed to Our Lady to awaken in David’s heart a desire to know the Lord. I prayed to my uncanonized communion of saints: Fr. Meriwether, Mother John Dominic, Papa, and even Ruthie. I still prayed for Ruthie, but I knew she could also pray for me. And, I think for the first time in my life, I prayed to David, shepherd and king of Israel. Every single morning we pray: “He has raised up for us a mighty savior, born of the house of his servant David.” But I never prayed to David, the head of the household, till now. And the image that came to mind was David and Goliath. Goliath was like the giant world of power, pleasure, money, and all the big ambition my brother pursued all his life, and I was the little David with my slingshot and smooth stone, or maybe, the sling on my side with 150 smooth stones.

  With all that in my heart, I began to pray the Rosary for our giant of a world, and for my big brother who is beginning to see that he’s a doctor of souls who have lost their design.

  David didn’t see me at 3:00 that afternoon, but he had come by earlier and left a note with Sr. Paula.

  Becky,

  Please pray for a patient of mine who is 20 years old and has attempted suicide for the third time, and thankfully has failed again. She is presently being admitted to Bellevue Hospital. My card was in her suicide note. I am rushing up town to see her.

  I enjoyed our conversation and hope we can do it again. Athens was good, but not spectacular. David.

  He asked for my prayers. And so I shall pray for his twenty year old and for all those like her who are lost and in despair with life.

 
I was kind of relieved actually. The morning conversation opened up a few cans of worms, as Papa would say. A little break will give David time to think about it. But still, I was filled with a quiet joy at the Magnificat that evening at Vespers. Like Our Lady we have no idea how things are all going to unfold over the years, to where our “yes, Lord” will take us. I didn’t have Mama and David, or Sally, in my life for nearly thirty years, and now they fill my later years with great joy; my spirit rejoices in God, my Savior.

  It’s a waste of meditation time and energy to think about how different things would be if this happened or that happened, thirty years ago, or ten years ago, or if Ruthie was still alive, or David married his Catholic doctor friend. It’s better to sit in the chapel, take a deep breath, and accept this is the way it is, here and now. Ezra used to say “hic et nunc”. I think he was just showing off, but he kind of got it when we were young. Ah, Ezra, my dear Fr. Matthew Goldman, off last week to Lancashire, England. Help me, Lord, to accept that if that is what You want, but if You don’t mind, Lord, I’d like to ask a little favor. After this chapter in his life, couldn’t You arrange a way for him to stay here and be happy? I know I’m being selfish, Lord, but I need him as someone to talk to hic et nunc.

  Chapter Twelve

  Advent 2000

  Elijah’s CupAt a Seder, after dinner, an extra cup of wine is poured in honor of Elijah and the door is opened to welcome the messianic age.

  It’s true to say that over the years, we went through many changes. We have a Constitution, of course, which was revised and approved by the Holy See in 1986. This is followed by all the Dominican nuns worldwide. But each monastery has its own Customary which spells out the “way we do it” in the ordinary life of the monastery. There were bigger changes than colored sheets, like changing the time of the Night Office to allow for a full night’s sleep. Other changes came in 2000 under Mother Rosaria’s first term as prioress. These would be discussed by her Council and some even voted on by the Chapter, like a major change in the horarium. The Advent of 2000 would be our first Advent when we could have visitors and receive mail.

  I was looking forward to this my favorite season of the year, as I carry the title: Of the Advent Heart. I realized my “Advent heart” would now have to expand to include the novices and postulants, and any visitors I might have. This all made me very happy, indeed. I had made a large Advent calendar for the novitiate with a door that opened each day and gave us a penance to do, or an Advent act of kindness, or a prayer to say, or a Psalm verse to memorize.

  I had a very special “someone new” to meet in the Advent of 2000, namely, David’s son, Sharbel. I had reserved the parlor for the afternoon of the First Sunday of Advent. Mama, David, and Sharbel would come at 3:15 that afternoon. I told them to come before 3:00, however, and listen to our Office of None. It is not as “nice” as Vespers, but it would be a good introduction for Sharbel to hear us sing the Psalms, not to mention Mama and David. I prayed about our meeting at Mass, especially thinking of them with the Advent theme of “Come, let us climb the Lord’s mountain, to the House of Jacob.” I’m sure they didn’t think about visiting me as coming into the House of Jacob.

  We were beginning Year C in the Lectionary. In those days, in that time, I will raise up for David a just shoot; he shall do what is right and just in the land. That’s from the first reading at Mass from the Prophet Jeremiah. David would not hear that reading, of course, but I thought of him immediately. Hopefully David will always do what is right! But if they make it to None, I hope David is listening to the Psalms. The antiphon for None is: What marvels the Lord worked for us: indeed we were glad. As Sr. Bertrand would say: “Ain’t that the truth.” The Lord has indeed worked marvels for us, the Feinstein family. Out of hurt and separation from the past, He brought about great reconciliation and love. Yes, love. Certainly it was always there for me with Mama, but now I can say that there is a real brother-sister love between David and me. And I thank the Lord for that. What marvels the Lord works for us – always in His time!

  The second antiphon says: The Lord will build the house for us; he will watch over our city. The Psalmist, of course, is talking about Jerusalem, but we all pray it with New York, New York, in our mind and heart. And for us, the house, or home, was always our apartment on W. 79th Street between Columbus and Amsterdam, where Mama still lives, albeit alone, but with her memories.

  And if David’s listening, and can understand the words, the third Psalm for None is Psalm 127, ending: May the Lord bless you from Sion all the days of your life! May you see your children’s children in a happy Jerusalem. Ah, it’s one of my favorite Psalms. May you see your children’s children…Mama has that fulfilled in her heart now, and one day, hopefully, Sharbel will be a father, and David will see his child’s children.

  After Holy Communion I always try to unite myself intimately with the Lord. It is really the holiest moment of the whole day. I’m sure the devil knows that too, and tries to send the most distractions to our souls at that time too. It’s usually simple things that are going on, but that day, it was filled with anticipation for meeting my nephew for the first time. Here I am, after Holy Communion, when I should be whispering the Holy Name of Jesus, and I’m wondering what Sharbel will call me. Aunt Baruch? Sr. Mary Baruch? Aunt Becky? Aunt Rebecca perhaps? Oy, such distractions I should have? What difference does it make for Heaven’s sake! He can call me Turnip Greens, if he wants; I’m just happy to finally meet him. I hope he likes me. There I was off on another even greater distraction. It didn’t cross my mind “I hope I like him.” I just assumed I would, but I hardly knew anything about him. Mama adores him, but he is her only grandson. Well, we’ll see. What can I do? Nothing. Just expect nothing and be grateful for everything. (Thank you, Greta Phillips.)

  Sometimes the post communion prayer and blessing come very quickly. But I settled into my stall after Mass, or I should say, I settled into myself. There were no distractions, no fretting over anything, just a few minutes of silence, absorbed in His Holy presence. No words anymore – most of the time, just silence. Funny, I almost heard old Eli the doorman say to me: “Everything’s gonna be just fine, Miss Rebecca.” Or maybe that was the Lord assuring me, but I left the chapel ready to meet the world, well…ready to meet my nephew.

  Even though it’s Advent, our Sunday dinner is always a notch above the weekday meals. We’ve also suspended the music for the Sundays of Advent meals and have begun a new book in the refectory. I wanted to begin a new book on my own but hadn’t taken anything out of the library, so I went there after dishes and surveyed what Sr. Antonia labelled “New Books.” Even then, I got distracted and found myself browsing the periodical shelves. Lots of articles on the new millennium. But I picked the latest issue of National Geographic and settled into one of the wooden library chairs to glance through it.

  The bell for None startled me for a moment, not sure what day it was, but I quickly picked up National Geographic, which had fallen onto the floor, and headed out and down the stairs to the chapel. I was coming into the ante-choir at the same time as Sr. Paula. So I discreetly whispered: “Are my mother and brother here?”

  She smiled as she nodded ‘yes’, started to go into the chapel, but turned back to me and whispered: “And a very handsome young man.” Sr. Kolbe was making her way into the chapel, and I kissed my scapular in penance for talking. Leave it to me to scandalize a novice on the First Sunday of Advent.

  After the Office, I waited for a couple minutes to give them time to make their way to the parlor, and then I looked up at the Lord with my Advent Heart, took a deep breath, and knew it would all be just fine.

  Standing by the grille were Mama and Sharbel; David was over by the cabinet where the glasses are. “Such beautiful singing your nephew should hear! Becky, darling, this is your nephew, my grandson, Sharbel.”

  To my surprise, he blessed himself, and looking right into my eyes said: “I am so honored to finally meet you…Aunt Mary.”

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nbsp; “And I to meet you, Sharbel; welcome to my little house.” And we all laughed the laugh that breaks the ice and makes everyone suddenly comfortable with each other. “Oh my,” I said, “I wasn’t ready for this, but Sharbel, you have your grandfather’s smile.” I turned to Mama and choked up saying: “It’s like Papa was standing here.”

  And with that, David joined us. “He is, Becky, he’s smiling down upon us, I’m sure.” This coming from my atheist brother who maybe saw Papa still in the design!

  “Please, sit down, and tell me all about yourself.” They filled in the three chairs across the front of the grille. Mama looked pleased as punch for Sharbel to meet me.

  “I’m graduating from Chaminade this year – well, next year, next May – and am applying to three colleges: Notre Dame, Georgetown, and Columbia here in New York.”

  “Majoring in?” I was all ears.

  “Pre-med. But I’m not sure what area yet, or what Med school.”

  “So, you want to be a doctor; that’s wonderful, Sharbel.”

  Mama chimed in: “What did you expect? His mother and father here are both doctors, their son should be a shoe salesman?” We all laughed, not because there’s anything peculiar about being a shoe salesman, but because it was coming from Mama.

  “Maybe a vineyard owner, Grandmama, and make New York wine, named for you: Hannah Vineyards Concord Grape.”

  “It would have to be kosher, my little baklawa.” And Sharbel laughed and put his arm around Mama and squeezed her to himself.

  “I want to know more about you. I heard you were able to leave and sit Shiva when Aunt Ruth died. And like that was the first time you’d been home in over twenty-five years! And I missed you. I didn’t even find out about Aunt Ruth till it was too late.”

  “Did you know her very well?”

  “Dad took me to Grandmother’s a few times for dinner, and Aunt Ruth was there a couple time; she was really funny and could make us all laugh. She was always interested in what I was doing in school; did I sing or play an instrument. Oh, and she was in an off-Broadway show probably eight years ago, I was only ten, I think, and Dad took my Mom and me to see it.”