by Jim Sano
“Well, I didn’t have anything before morning Mass and won’t be eating at noon, so this is my window, and you don’t want to see me when I’m hungry. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your first, well, second, visit to our home, which, as you can see, is in desperate need of repairs? I would love to call someone in for a new roof or to fix the sprinkler system and the heating system for that matter, but the budget’s tight and getting tighter this year with all the sad news going on.”
David curiously asked, “Sad news?”
Tom stopped making his sandwich. “I’m sure you are aware of the abuse scandal that’s been on the front page of the Globe most days this year. It’s more than sad for all those people who suffered what no child should suffer, and it’s sad for the mission of the Church. A lot of people are obviously upset, and rightly so. Mass attendance has dropped off and so have contributions, so roofs leak more.”
David wasn’t sure if he should weigh in, but his disdain for all things Catholic got the better of him. “Why do you stay in a Church that condones abusing innocent kids? When I read about it, I keep thinking to myself that there is nothing worse. You don’t seem like the kind of guy that would work for an outfit like that.”
David could see by Tom’s serious expression that this was an area of great conflict for him. Tom sat down at the table. “David, I have struggled to make sense of this all year. People have come by the church yelling names I won’t repeat, warning the kids coming out of school to watch out for the dirty priests, and smashing the windows. They are angry, and I can understand why. I was so caught off guard when I found out that one of the accused priests had worked here when I started. Most people think that it’s all going on right now, that most priests are pedophiles and that everyone knew what was happening.”
David blurted, “How couldn’t you?”
“The rate of sexual abuse and pedophilia is higher in public schools than by priests, but you don’t hear much about it because those involved aren’t talking. The kids are afraid or ashamed to talk and the abusers certainly aren’t going to tell. At the time, I think there was a poor screening of candidates for the priesthood and a warped view of the sexual revolution but there was and still is, tragically, the abuse of children going on in all walks of society. Anyone working for the Church is and damn well should be held to the highest standard of expectations. You absolutely should be able to trust that your children are being protected by people doing God’s work. Pedophilia is a real sickness, but there’s no excuse for this tragedy.
“My heart has ached for those abused children, their pain, their shame, and I have cried many a night for them. The thing beyond comprehension is why the Church leaders, who knew about the abusers, didn’t do everything possible to ensure it never happened again. I still don’t know the details myself about those accused of knowingly moving priests around, but I’m more than pissed about it.”
David shook his head. “I think they should be taken out and shot or hung. How could any human being not do everything they could to protect those kids? I mean, I’m reading about hundreds of cases and even though a lot of them were a while ago, that doesn’t change anything. These people have had their lives destroyed, to protect what?”
Tom nodded. “You’re right. I know the standard belief and guideline from psychiatrists was that this was a treatable illness. Many of those priests were sent for treatment and cleared, but that medical belief has changed dramatically. That doesn’t, however, explain the priests whom you’ve read about in the paper or the leaders that let this continue. The percentage of priests involved in abuse is small and no higher than the general population but there shouldn’t be any. I also feel sad for the 96 percent of good priests that are sickened by this and who are being looked at as potential pedophiles and sexual predators. It’s a scandal and a stain on the Church, but each of those kids’ lives was more important than any bad press exposing these offenders.”
“So why do you stay?”
“I’m not sure how to explain this easily, but the Church is not a man-made organization that just went bad and should be abandoned. Jesus left us with His Church and it’s not a building or a set of rules, but something profoundly more. The Church is also made up of imperfect sinners, who, throughout our entire history, have fallen, sinned and required constant renewal and cleansing. Those sins or stains do not change what the Church itself is, but it certainly doesn’t live up to its mission to share the good news of Jesus and be a living example of his love.
“These crimes miss our mission completely and hurt the most innocent as a result. Jesus said that the Church he built would never die and would be the pillar of truth and love. What the rest of us have to do is help heal the injured, shine a light on the issues, and hope to bring people back to what the faith is all about. Remember, it isn’t because these men followed the teachings of the Church, but precisely because they didn’t follow them that we have all this pain and suffering. Maybe that doesn’t make a lot of sense to you, but I believe in what the Church is really all about, even though I feel shame about this scandal every day.”
David continued to shake his head. He wasn’t processing everything Tom had said and realized that Tom himself was struggling to process this avalanche. “Sorry to get into all that. How are you doing with this yourself?”
“Well, my first priority is to make sure every one of those kids who comes to school or church is completely safe here and hopefully at home. It has made doing what I do a lot harder, but the parishioners have a right to know what the deal is and what’s being done. I think I’ve moved from the denial phase into the angry phase, but I work to keep that feeling focused in the right place. Thanks for asking. How about yourself?”
David stared down and flipped a napkin on the table over and over, thinking of how to answer, unsure of why he even came. Finally, he said, “I’m not exactly sure how I am. You were right that something was triggered a few weeks ago, but I’m not sure what it is, and I’m confused with these messages that are being left at my place that only you seem to know how to decode.”
“I’d be curious too. As I said, I don’t think it could be anyone who wants to harm you.”
“So, breaking into my house is a good thing?”
Tom laughed. “Well, if you have to be broken into, this isn’t the worst result. Socrates said that ‘The unexamined life is not worth living,’ and there’s no better place to start than believing that life has truth, purpose, and meaning, and that meaning comes from God. You were fairly quiet at those debates. How do you feel about objective truth?”
“I have no issues with there being things that are true and things that aren’t true.”
Tom made eye contact with David. “How are you about God? Do you think he is real?”
“I’m not so sure about God. If he does exist, I don’t think he really cares—about me, anyway.”
Tom’s lips tightened as his expression towards David changed from curiosity to empathy. “How about your dad? Is he alive?”
David paused and asked, “No, he died when I was young. Why?”
“I talk with women who have issues with believing that a loving God exists, but the overwhelming number of people having a struggle are men, especially men that have had distant or difficult relationships with their dads. Sometimes losing your dad early on can create a sense of abandonment and a struggle to relate to any father figure unless you have a strong male mentor to step in early.”
David was feeling uncomfortable with the conversation and that Tom had just knocked on a private door without an invitation to do so. Tom must have sensed this as he asked, “How about doing something different today?”
David was trying to adjust to the conversation’s shift in gears. “Um. I’m not really off today. I just took a quick break from work. What exactly were you thinking of?”
“Here, eat half of my sandwich and just help me out with something. It is just a few blocks from here.”
David hesitated
but had a strong feeling that he didn’t want to go back to work. “All right, but I won’t have a lot of time.”
As they got up to leave, David saw, through the window, a woman wearing a light gray head covering with a white band and a gray dress coming towards the door. As the door opened, it was obvious the woman wasn’t completely dry and was holding a towel in her hand. David could tell from Tom’s expression that it was too late to go out the front door. “How are we today, Sister Helen?”
Sister Helen was maybe five feet in height with a plain but attractive face and spoke with a slight Irish accent. David could tell that she was no pushover. She had a look in her eyes that was serious while playful at the same time. “Father, so towels is what we get when it is umbrellas that we need. You know that I’m not one to be asking for much, but a class without rain would be appreciated.”
Tom smiled at her respectively, but he couldn’t hold back a smile and a small laugh as he said, “Sister, I’m really sorry.” David was waiting for the Sister to lose her patience with Tom but her serious look turned into a smile and then a laugh of her own. Tom said, “I promise to see what we can do. By the way Sister, this is David Kelly, a good friend of mine who is coming over to My Brother’s Table with me this morning. David, this damp lady is Sister Helen, the reason we have such a great school and great kids.”
David shook Sister Helen’s damp hand. “Pleased to meet you, Sister.”
Sister Helen eyed him up and down. “If you dress that well to work in the food kitchen, I can’t wait to see how you dress for church. I’ll be looking out for you at Mass.”
David said, “Ahh—”
Tom jumped to the rescue. “David doesn’t go to this parish, but maybe someday he will visit us. Is there anything else I can do right now before we go?”
Sister Helen turned to David and shook her head. “What manner of speaking is that? Doesn’t he have to do something first before he can do something else?” and then left mumbling to herself as she walked back to the school.
David raised his eyebrows. “The food kitchen? I don’t know.”
“I know you don’t, but at least help me take a few things in?” They walked out to Tom’s old Honda hatchback and David gave it an amused smile.
Tom chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind riding in style today.” He opened his door to get in. David checked out the seat to see if he was going to get anything on his suit and then slid into a car that was unlike anything he had sat in for many a year. My Brother’s Table was only a few streets over and they pulled up to the front door where he had first spotted Tom that morning in August. David grabbed one of the crates as Tom held another and knocked on the door with his foot.
Sam answered the door and enthusiastically greeted David. “Hello again, Mr. David or DJ. Good to see you back, and in another fine-looking suit.” Sam’s skin was dark, his beard was full, and his head mostly bald. He stood about 5 feet, 5 inches, round in shape, which went well with his broad genuine smile. He glanced at Tom. “We need some help today.” Both Tom and Sam looked over at David with a smile in their eyes as well as on their faces. David stood there like the remaining man in a lineup after everyone else had taken a step backward when a volunteer request was made.
Tom said, “We definitely need you, David, but I can understand if you have more important places to be.”
David peered up at the sky and pressed his lips tightly together as he searched for a good response. Based more on impulse than thought, David said, “Okay, but my rates aren’t cheap.” Sam put his arm around David as the three walked into the pantry kitchen through the metal alley door.
Inside the kitchen and out in the dining room were a number of men working to get things ready for the lunchtime guests. Sam said that most of the volunteers were men who had been in the meal line themselves at one time or another and were working their way out or giving back for the help that they had received. Sam handed David an apron to help keep his expensive shirt and pants clean and asked if he’d cut up the chicken for the dish.
Out in the dining room, Tom worked with some men to get the serving stations ready. David was struck by the level of respect Tom showed each man and how completely present he was with them. Sam placed the chicken in large skillets, sprinkled them with salt and black pepper; then added cooked sausage and some oil to them. In another large pan, he cooked up peppers, celery, and garlic. Sam asked David to start adding the chicken and sausage to the vegetables and then to stir in the rice which had been cooking on the other stove. Next, Sam then added broth, paprika, and thyme, then covered each pan to let it simmer while David prepped shrimp and scallions to be added last.
All this time Sam was talking about his family while Father Tom and the other men worked in the dining room. One man, whom David recognized from last time with the long hair and old Red Sox hat, came in with bread to be sliced.
Sam asked, “David, do you remember Ritter?”
Ritter turned to David. “Hey, man, the guy with the suit. Good seeing you again, bro.” As Ritter sliced bread, he chatted about taking a trip to Vermont or maybe Mexico or maybe Rhode Island, to start seeing the world. He knew some people in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, so he’d have a place to crash. David just smiled as Ritter went back and forth with Sam about the advantages of Rhode Island over Mexico, and how good bread is when it comes right out of the oven, but how hard it is to cut.
Sam was making up enough jambalaya to feed an army, and it smelled tasty. David surmised that Sam always made sure he served food that he would want to eat and picked dishes where he could include vegetables and other ingredients that were good for the guests.
David noticed guests were coming in from the line that had been forming outside the door for the past thirty minutes. Tom greeted each guest with the respect and dignity they deserved even if they didn’t believe it themselves. None were allowed in if they had been visibly drinking. Many had hair that looked like it hadn’t been combed or well-worn clothes that hadn’t been washed while others came in looking like anyone you might see in town, well-groomed and reasonably well-dressed.
David helped Sam and Ritter bring out the large pans of the jambalaya and bread from the kitchen to be served with the salad already at the serving stations.
Tom said to David, “How is it going, chef?”
David replied, “It’s going fine. The food smells better than I would’ve expected.”
“Sam takes a lot of pride in his cooking and serves the best he can for people who often had little sleep and no breakfast. Are you up for serving a bit?”
David peered out at a large number of men that had taken their seats in the dining hall and were queuing up at the serving stations, table by table. As they came up, most of them would smile with or without all their teeth, and ask if David was new, what was on the menu, or if they could take two pieces of bread. Some said, “Thank you,” while others silently stared at him while holding out their plate. Tom was good at engaging with the guests, taking the time to say something sociable to those who were less gregarious. Tom was a natural, and David could tell that he had developed relationships with the majority of men who came through the line. Tom joked back and forth with David and included the person they were serving in the friendly exchange.
After everyone had filed through the line, David went around with coffee to fill up cups and enter into conversations. Sometimes he had to find a polite way to extricate himself from conversations that wouldn’t have ended otherwise. Many of the men stayed to help clean the dining room and put the chairs upside down on the tables to allow sweepers to clean the floors. Cleaning the serving stations and the kitchen was fairly quick and fun with the personalities of all those helping out. The comradery felt comforting to David. Sam thanked him for all his work and hoped he didn’t get anything on his clothes. David shook his hand. “Sam, you are a first-rate chef. Do you do this every week?”
Sam smiled. “We will be getting ready for dinner in a bit, and we do this twice a d
ay, every day, so you are welcome here anytime, Mr. David or DJ.”
David smiled and took off his apron to find that one spot did manage its way onto his hand-tailored shirt but somehow he didn’t mind. Walking out the door with Tom, he was feeling a level of contentment that was different for him.
Tom seemed to notice the expression on his face and grinned.
David furrowed his brow and asked, “What?”
“I was just thinking.”
David got back into Tom’s car. “Come on. Thinking of what?”
“Okay. You did ask for it. I was thinking of the reading this morning at Mass. It was the story about a widow who was down to her last meal with her son. She meets Elijah, and he asks her to bring him water and a morsel of bread. The widow explains that she has nothing baked and only a handful of meal in her jar and a little oil. Elijah told her not to fear and to make a little cake for him and then for her and her son. Even though it was all she had, and she knew she’d have nothing left to eat, she did as he said. Because of her faith, Elijah told her that God would not let the meal in the jar nor the container of oil ever go empty, and it did not, as she and her son ate for many years.”
“That is a charming story, but what made you think of that just now?”
“I saw that look on your face when you came out. You gave your time and yourself. If you had to sum up the entire Bible, you might say that it’s about trusting in God and giving everything you have in love, and you will always be filled and never run out. But, when you cling to things other than God, they can never satisfy. You can hoard and save as much wealth, power or pleasure as you can, but it will never be enough.”
Just then, David remembered what Kevin Walsh had been telling him at dinner a few weeks back. It connected with what Tom was saying.
“I know you don’t feel connected to God right now,” Tom said, “and it would be a major league leap to trust him completely right away but think about this. God is pure love and love is not something you can keep but only give, only pass on to another. When you are giving to others, especially those who are in need, giving of yourself without any expectation for something in return, you are linked with God. You’ll feel filled and free. Widows at the time of that story had no means of income and there weren’t any support systems around, so when the widow said she was down to her last bit of meal and oil, she knew she and her son would soon die of hunger, yet she trusted in God and he didn’t fail her.”