The Gathering

by William X. Kienzle

  Rose slipped into her coat and waited by the front door for her family.

  Enough serious thought. It’s Christmas. Enjoy!

  FOURTEEN

  CHRISTMAS DAY.

  Mass had been attended, presents had been opened, good wishes had been extended all around. And something new was about to be tried.

  Henry and Lucy Smith had little extended family. A few cousins now scattered about the country and a few overseas; an aunt who had disappeared after an attempt at religious life. So as a twist on the traditional Christmas dinner, the Smiths suggested a party of sorts for five young members of Redeemer parish who planned to enter religious life.

  All five were connected by various ties. First and oldest, was Bob Koesler, who had been prepped to flow easily into an out-of-state seminary, there to begin studies to become a Redemptorist priest. Several of his Redeemer classmates had gone off to Wisconsin. One of the three had returned home. His reabsorption into his parochial freshman class was proceeding, though he was viewed through jaundiced eyes.

  Most parochial students were conditioned to expect some of their number to enter seminaries or convents. After all, parochial schools were geared to be incubators for religious vocations. Such decisions were applauded.

  But when a young man embarked on such a course only to return several months later, understanding flew out the window.

  The likely cause of such retrogression was homesickness. Classmates in parochial school tended to look upon the returned one as a quitter.

  That same fate could have befallen young Koesler but for the fact that he had become a day student in a local diocesan seminary. In any case, he had stayed the course so far.

  But Bobby wouldn’t have gone this route if not for the intervention of a Maryknoll priest who had steered him toward Sacred Heart Seminary.

  Koesler, in turn, influenced the life choices of Michael Smith and Emanuel Tocco. With Manny taking after Michael, they too had been headed for the Redemptorist Seminary.

  Bob Koesler introduced them to the perfect alternative. The information he passed on had to do with favorable odds. Should a boy attend Sacred Heart Seminary and—for whatever reason—drop out, he could still be considered for the Redemptorist Order.

  However, should he try the Redemptorists and leave—as had Bob’s unfortunate classmate —he would be barred from any attempt to enter Sacred Heart.

  Michael and Manny liked the odds. They also appreciated the idea of living at home.

  All three had lots to learn about the priesthood in general and what it would be like to be assigned to parish work. One striking point of difference was that—try as they might—religious orders did not produce parish priests. No order could overlook the fact that their group, or their religious community, had been founded for a specific purpose. They might have been dedicated to preaching—or even more specifically, preaching against heretical groups. Or they might have been established to ransome captives, or committed to pursue, combat, or deal with any number of issues that seemed impelling at the time.

  Many founders of religious orders had subsequently been proclaimed saints. Most—or at least many—of the erstwhile impelling issues were no longer very impelling.

  And so, in going down the list—Dominicans, Franciscans, Oblates, Carmelites, Jesuits, Redemptorists—few of the orders were still engaged in the work that their founders—Dominic, Francis, Ignatius, Alphonsus, etc.—had established them to accomplish.

  Of the more than three hundred parishes in Detroit, only one was staffed by Redemptorists. They functioned as simple parish priests, not as the vanguard of preachers against heresies. The overriding difference between Redeemer and most other Detroit parishes was quantity. This parish comprised many more priests than any of the other parishes.

  Thus, Catholics who moved from Redeemer to just about any other diocesan parish might complain that there were only two or three confessors ready to absolve of a given Saturday. Whereas Redeemerites had a choice of some sixteen.

  But the method of operation of parish life would be exposed to Sacred Heart students. It was a step toward the mutual testing that was geared to help the student accept or reject the seminary, while at the same time the seminary measured whether to accept or reject the student.

  Somewhat like Australian tag team wrestling, the Maryknoller touched and changed Bob Koesler’s life. Then Bobby would touch and change the lives of Michael and Emanuel.

  Michael could not have begun his overture to religious life without the influence of his twin, Rose. Then, through Michael, Rose was distantly connected with Manny.

  And because Rose and Alice were best of friends, the group expanded accordingly.

  Some in this group knew each other intimately or well, others only passingly.

  Whatever their backgrounds, it was the intention of Mr. and Mrs. Smith to bring them all together. Hopefully, they would bond over the years and each would be a source of strength for the others.

  All the parents—the Smiths, McManns, Koeslers, Toccos—agreed: They would arrange a Christmas dinner party, then step aside and leave the young people to mingle.

  The adults made arrangements to go to downtown Detroit, where several soup kitchens needed volunteers.

  This was a banner day for the homeless, who had nothing, or nearly nothing. It was a grand, if infrequently available, festive meal. And the parents who wanted to serve Christ actually served Him this Christmas Day in the person of the poor and needy.

  Michael and Rose acted as hosts, since the dinner was at their home.

  Initially, conversation was a bit stilted. Under ordinary circumstances, the young people would’ve been there to share food and small talk. Perhaps this present formality was due to the fact that each was increasingly conscious that he or she was heading toward a celibate life.

  But the awkwardness soon thawed. And by the end of the main course everyone helped clear the dishes. Mike and Rose served dessert, and a sense of camaraderie permeated the atmosphere.

  “You know, it really was nice of our folks to throw this party for us,” Bob Koesler said The others nodded agreement. “I guess it’s kind of clear what they’re trying to accomplish,” he added.

  “They hope we’ll find lots to pull us together,” Mike said, “and that we’ll become friends.”

  “Some of us are already,” Alice said.

  “True,” said Bob. “Now that I think of it, I’m practically odd man out. I haven’t really been that close to any of you here. But I’d like to be.” He looked around the table. “I think our folks want us to realize that we all share much of what we want to become as adults. Three of us want to be priests …”

  “Of the diocesan variety,” Manny said.

  The others laughed.

  “That’s right,” Bob agreed. “It’s not that there’s any shortage of priest candidates from this parish. Probably more men get ordained from Redeemer than from any other single parish in the diocese.”

  “And all of us who do get ordained,” Mike said, “whether as Redemptorist or as diocesan priests, share in the same priesthood. Still,” he said, after a moment’s thought, “there will be differences.”

  Bob nodded. “For one thing, our friends who become Redemptorists can be sent anywhere in this province—anywhere in the world, for that matter.”

  “And,” Mike added, “wherever they may be, they’ll be together in a uniquely special way. These guys at Redeemer stick together. I mean really stick together. They take days off together, vacation together, recreation together. As far as togetherness is concerned, they’ll have it way over us.”

  “I guess that’s the way it ought to be,” Manny said. “They eat together and pray together. Face it: They’re tighter than we’ll ever be as secular priests.”

  “I can vouch for that,” Bob said. “First, the Brothers of Mary invited me to join them. But I never intended to become a Brother. When they became convinced of that, I never heard about it again. Then the Redemptorists
tried to enlist me. But when I entered the diocesan seminary, the Redemptorists lost interest.”

  “They did?” Rose, though she had hitherto said little, had been following the conversation closely.

  Bob nodded again, this time vigorously. “Granted, I haven’t been a seminarian very long … just a few months. But early on, the rector at Sacred Heart advised all of us to report regularly to our own pastors. He assured us our pastors wanted to get to know us.

  “So, when Christmas vacation started, I went over to the rectory and asked to see the pastor. He came out, looked me over, and wondered why I was there. So I told him what the seminary rector had said. He nodded, though he seemed kind of puzzled. Told me to have a nice vacation and make sure to attend Mass every day. Then he walked off, leaving me standing in the vestibule.”

  They all thought that amusing.

  “The point is,” Bob continued, “we really ought to stick together, just like our folks obviously intended.”

  “Yeah,” Mike agreed. “We’ve got to be there for each other. It’s a cinch the Redemptorists aren’t going to take us under their wing. Heck, I doubt they even know us by sight now, so just think: If we go off to the seminary, they’ll spend a lifetime trying to figure out who we are. If we hadn’t already guessed that, Bob’s experience pretty much illustrates the situation.”

  “But hang in there, Bob,” Manny said. “Just hang in there. And after this school year—the good Lord willin’, we’ll be with you in the flesh.”

  They all laughed again.

  “That sort of takes care of us,” Mike said. “We’ll all be at SHS. We shouldn’t have much trouble sticking together.”

  “Of course,” Manny said, “we’d be closer if we were boarding. Then we really would be cemented. But we don’t want to board unless we have to. And I guess that’s around the middle of college … right, Bob?”

  “That’s what they tell me,” Koesler replied.

  “This thing we’ve left out,” Mike said, “is the girls. They’re going to the convent, not the seminary. How do they get to function in this club?” He knew his twin could take care of herself. Right now, he was thinking more of Alice than of Rose.

  “I wondered when you were going to get around to us,” Rose said. “When you”—she looked at Bob—“said we really ought to stick together, all I could think was: How we are going to do that when we—Alice and I—are going off in different directions from the rest of you?”

  There was silence as the others all looked as if they were trying to figure out this weighty problem.

  Rose smiled. “Look at it this way,” she said, as she answered her own question. “We’re united in our goals. We”—her gesture included all—“want to dedicate ourselves to service to the Lord. We can be cooperative and supportive to each other.”

  “Rose is right,” her twin affirmed. “Heck, someday we might be assigned to the same parish. Not all of us at the same time …” He smiled. “ … but someday Manny and Alice, for instance, could be assigned to staff a parish where Alice is teaching in the school and Manny is assistant pastor … maybe even pastor. But even if a situation like that never happens, we’ll always be there for each other.”

  Mike’s commentary lost Manny. At first mention of a joint assignment, Manny fell into a daydream.

  The reverie, as in Mike’s scenario, revolved around him and Alice.

  Manny’s contact with Alice had been very limited. Typically, get-togethers involved him and Mike—usually stopping off at the Smith home going to or coming from some athletic event.

  They would occasionally bump into Rose and her sidekick pal, Alice. For some reason—perhaps because Rose was Mike’s twin—Manny never considered Rose in any sexual way. If he’d given it any thought he wouldn’t have been able to explain this reservation; it was as if any sort of sexual activity between him and Rose would be … incestuous.

  No similar reservation blocked his awareness of Alice’s allure. As in the attraction of any couple, there were no rational reasons; it just happened.

  However, there was no indication that his feelings were reciprocated.

  Manny reasoned that it was better that way. An infatuation was not a sound basis for a chaste and celibate life.

  The conversation continued as the participants searched for ways that this—what? club, group, association?—could be of service to or provide help for the two girls who now stood out, as a second-rate punster might have said, like sore nuns.

  The group searched for some way of providing an even playing field.

  The boys were on one level. Particularly in a parochial school, boys who leaned toward the priesthood were number-one class entities. Teaching nuns nurtured them, priests became companions to the present and future seminarians.

  Next—and definitely ranking second—were the girls headed for the convent. So it had been and so it was now. How would two girls headed for the convent be able to “be there” for three boys destined for the altar?

  On this score, religious life did not differ all that much from secular life. Women had their place. In the convent, in the classroom, in the pews, in the hospital, in the cloister. All subservient to the priest. In secular life, the kitchen, the laundry, and, of course, the bedroom. Subservient to their husbands.

  Manny’s distraction notwithstanding, the group pledged to convene as often as seemed useful. Little did they know then how much support each would one day require.

  FIFTEEN

  CHRISTMAS DAY.

  The Benson family had attended Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. Stan was one of the altar boys for this ceremony. Three other boys also served. There was never a problem getting kids to serve at Christmas and Easter. Like their parents, they could be counted on to be in church for one or both of these reverent feasts.

  This was a most solemn occasion for Lily Benson. Now that Father Simpson had “legitimized” her marital state, this was the first Midnight Mass since her earlier necessarily civil marriage to George Benson that she had felt worthy enough to receive Communion.

  Most of the other people at Mass today would attend services sporadically throughout the year. For them, Mass attendance was little more than a superstition.

  Not so with Lily.

  Though not able sacramentally to participate due to her canonically invalid marriage, still she had attended Mass almost daily.

  But all that had been fixed. That miracle-working pastor, Father Edward Simpson, had seen to that.

  Now Lily was the life of the party. Not that she had embalmed and buried previous parties. But now there was a contagious lilt to her laughter and a special sparkle in her eyes.

  The annual Christmas celebration was an occasion for joy and singing well-remembered songs. It was a time that provided a universal greeting for friend or stranger.

  Merry Christmas.

  Lily Benson was a special case. And those closest to her sensed that.

  She bounced about the dining room, making sure all the decorations were firmly mounted. She had visiting privileges to the turkey. Periodically, she swept through the kitchen to baste the bird.

  On one of these excursions, her sister Peg invited herself along. “Need any help, Lil?”

  “If you want, sure.” Lily was surprised. So lost was she in her private happiness that the offer caught her off guard. Ordinarily she wanted no assistance in her kitchen, where she reigned supreme.

  Lily checked the pie, while Peg mashed the rutabaga.

  Peg had guessed that her sister’s extra spark had some connection with her spiritual life. All Lil’s relatives were lately aware of and wondered at her taking Communion. Only Peg had the special entree to question her sister. “Lil, what’s with you and Communion?”

  Lily spun around to face Peg. “I’m okay with the Church.”

  “That’s great, Lil. But after so many years of your being away, it’s natural for us to wonder …”

  “Don’t wonder. All you’ve got to know is that my wonderful p
arish priest fixed it all up.”

  Peg paused in her mashing. “How did he do that? I remember all these years ago, just before you married George, how we tried to get you married in the Church. I was even a witness for you. I mean, I know the problem was with George’s previous marriage. But I testified that you were the kind of person who would not lie under oath no matter how you might be hurt by the truth.”

  “Don’t remind me of that. It was the darkest time of my life.”

  “But,” Peg said, unheeding, “the verdict went against you and in favor of George’s first marriage.”

  Lily shuddered at the memory.

  “And so the two of you were married by a judge. And I was your matron of honor.”

  “I remember all too well,” Lily said. “You got into trouble because of being in my wedding party.”

  “It was worth it … for you, hon. Besides, all I had to do was go to confession and get the living hell bawled out of me—followed by a whopping penance …” Now it was Peg who shuddered. “Fifteen rosaries, as I recall.”

  They both laughed.

  “So,” Peg asked, “what happened? How come all of a sudden you can take Communion? C’mon, sis: After fifteen rosaries, you owe me!”

  They laughed again.

  Lily gently touched her sister’s arm. “If I could tell anyone, I would tell you. All I can say is that Father Simpson has this wonderful dispensation that he had been saving for what he called a very special case. I’m not sure how George and I qualified for this great gift … but I’m not about to look it in the mouth.

  “Just be happy for me, Peg. Just be happy.”

  “I am. You know that, Lil. And I promise: No more questions.”

  Lily brushed aside a tear. “Thanks, Peg.”

  “And I will personally shoot down anybody who bugs you about this.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Now,” Peg said, “I hear that Stan is planning on going to the seminary … true?”

  Lily glowed. “I’ve never seen him so happy. Of course, he’s trying to keep it hidden. But I know my boy.” She looked thoughtful, then continued. “I’m not sure that he really understands the whole situation. But he knows that George and I are ecstatic. And now he can go off to study to be a priest. It’s what he’s always wanted to be. I’ve had the hardest time trying to explain to him why he never could be a priest.