by Hanley, Don;
“Wait a minute.” Rebecca grabbed his sleeve. “What kind of God do you believe in?”
“A God I that I cannot explain nor describe, and never will be able to.”
“That’s not a very good answer. You are dedicated to preaching and teaching about God, but you don’t know anything about him?”
“The best description of God I can think of is the Biblical passage that says ‘God is love and he who lives in love lives in God and God in him.’ So God is love and Ricky and his mother and you and I must live in love to find God. I think we have to experience God, know God through experience and not from abstract words.”
“So, are you living in love and now have found God?”
“I’m in the process ... I hope.” He bit his lower lip and thought of the song’s words, “those who know love by its first name” and how he still had a long way to go before he knew love like that. He looked at his watch. “I better change clothes and go hear confessions. Maybe, if I’m kind enough, I can help someone find God. Please tell Marge that I’ll be out between five-fifteen and five-thirty.”
Rebecca walked back to her car thinking the priest had dodged her question. She wondered what his definition of love was.
* * *
Rebecca sat next to Marge near the middle of the church, and watched Kathy Olson with the five young people near the altar. Rebecca and Marge were wearing jeans and sweaters as was Kathy and the band members. “This is jean-wearing country,” Marge had said. The teens were arranging their instruments, a set of drums, two rather large amplifiers, two guitars, and a bass. One pretty young girl adjusted the microphone while another girl and boy tuned up their guitars. When they turned on the amplifiers, the little church seemed to vibrate.
Kathy Olson was a very pretty, natural blond young woman. Rebecca had studied her as she interacted with the priest at dinner. The young woman seemed to try hard to have a studied nonchalance but often looked at Jerry, in what Rebecca could only interpret as, adoringly. She would also often glance at Rebecca as if sizing her up as a possible rival for Jerry’s affection. Marge smiled several times as if knowing what was going on. If the priest was uncomfortable in the company of three attractive women, he didn’t show it. He was less spontaneous than at other times, however. Their conversation revealed nothing of a personal nature: Kathy’s graduate studies, Marge’s journal, Jerry’s projects and Rebecca’s work with Denise and Rene at Helene’s home.
Rebecca glanced around the church and guessed that there were over a hundred people, mostly children and teens, present. Jerry had told her that before he came to St. Patrick’s, there were usually only about thirty people attending one Sunday Mass. Now there were more than that at each of three Masses, the youth Mass, a Spanish Sunday Mass, and the regular ten o’clock Mass.
Hearing a bit of commotion behind her, Rebecca turned and saw Ricky paddling himself up the side aisle. The boy stopped next to her pew and held up a wavering hand.
Rebecca reluctantly reached out and shook it. “Hi, Ricky, it’s good to see you again.” He blushed and smiled broadly. Rebecca again scolded herself for being so squeamish.
The band began playing a fast rendition of “Kumbaya” and, led by the young woman, the congregation sang along. Jerry entered the church from the back. He was dressed in a gleaming white garment with a bright multi-colored piece over his shoulders and hanging down the front. He positively radiated warmth and color, even with his scuffed black loafers. A young man and woman carrying books and two girls dressed in red robes partially covered by white lacey garments preceded him down the aisle. Rebecca could hear Jerry’s baritone voice and Ricky’s tenor next to her over all the rest. She hurried around to the center aisle near the communion rail and took three pictures of the advancing procession.
Rebecca returned to her seat as the robed girls and Jerry came up to the altar and stood behind it while the book-carriers went to small lecterns on each side. The two readers alternated reading, one from the Bible and the other from Kahlil Gabran’s The Prophet. Jerry asked everyone to stand as he read the Gospel. It was a passage with lots of ‘blesseds’ in it--’blessed are the meek,’ ‘the poor’, and so forth. Again Rebecca left her place and took several pictures of the priest.
Jerry began his sermon by reading a little story from a book with a colorful cover. Rebecca tried to get a glimpse of the title but all she could see was “Chicken Soup.” The story was about a little boy who wanted to buy a crippled puppy. The pet store owner wanted to give the boy the dog because he wasn’t worth much and nobody else wanted him. The boy protested that he wanted to pay for the puppy, fifty cents a week, because the puppy was worth just as much as any of the others. When the owner asked him why he wanted that particular puppy, the boy pulled up his pant leg and displayed a heavy leg brace. “That puppy needs someone who’ll understand,” he said.
Jerry had glanced at Ricky once, as he read. The boy had tears in his eyes and shook his head. Looking around, Rebecca noticed that there were tears in many eyes, including the priest’s.
After a brief silence, Jerry said, “I’ve read that story a dozen times and every time, I cry. I think I identify with that little boy. Do you ever feel like you need to find someone who will truly understand? If you feel like it, would you share a time with us?”
A girl began to speak in a near whisper, “My grandmother is dying of cancer. I ... I...I’m sorry.” She began to cry. It was Alice’s granddaughter! A girl next to her put an arm around her. Several others shared a time in their lives when they were sad or lonely.
Marge whispered, “When I was here a few weeks ago, no-one would say a word.”
Ricky clumsily waved his hand and Jerry called on him. “I, I, li, li, like th, that b, b, boy,” Ricky said loudly.
Rebecca heard several snickers as the boy stammered through his simple sentence and was embarrassed for him. When she looked down at him, he seemed to be smiling. “I do too, Ricky,” Jerry said.
One young man in front of Rebecca turned and shook Ricky’s hand and a girl behind him patted him on the shoulder. Ricky grinned and seemed to shake all over. Rebecca hoped he was not hurting himself. One exception to the good feeling was a young fellow in a pew behind Rebecca. He wore a baseball cap on backward and attempted to look cool and disinterested. She wondered why he was in church.
The robed girls brought water and wine to the altar and Jerry announced, “This is the offertory of the Mass. We will pass a basket around. If you have any spare money you can give to the parish, it is appreciated. We do need to buy more paint and fix up the parish hall. If you cannot afford it, that is okay, too.”
The girl who led the singing announced, “Kathy Olson has been helping us with our music and she has a beautiful voice. She says that the music should be ours and she is only a coach, but tonight we have talked her into singing our offertory song.”
Kathy stepped up from the front pew with guitar in hand. “I would like to sing one of my favorite songs for you—’The Rose.’ If you know the words, please join me.” Rebecca immediately positioned herself to take pictures.
Some say love is like a river that drowns the tender reed
Some say love is like a razor that leaves the soul to bleed
Some say love is an endless, aching need
I say love is a flower and you its only seed
It’s the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance.
It’s the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance.
It’s the one who won’t be taken that cannot seem to give.
And the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live.
When the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long
and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong.
Just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snow,
lies the seed that with the sun’s love in the spring becomes the rose.
No one joined Kathy in the singing and t
here was silence in the church as she finished the song. Kathy smiled at the congregation and then turned to Jerry. The soulful look on her face would melt the hardest of hearts, Rebecca thought. Her expression seemed to say that the love she sang about was her love for him. He appeared to be embarrassed as he smiled in return. If this priest isn’t moved, and maybe even very disturbed, by the obvious feelings of love of this delightful and beautiful woman, he has to be dead.
Rebecca hoped she had captured Kathy’s smile on film. She wished she had a camcorder for the event. The radiant young woman cradled the guitar in her arms and returned to her seat. A loud applause broke out and lasted for a full minute.
After the offertory, Jerry invited some of the young people to gather around the altar. About fifteen of the younger ones did, forming a half-circle to the sides and back of the altar. Soon after, the band began a rock version of the Lord’s Prayer. Everyone began singing and joined hands. The young man a few feet from Marge hesitantly moved his hand in her direction. She quickly moved toward him and took his hand. Marge extended her other hand to Rebecca. Rebecca had to stretch a bit to reach Ricky’s hand.
After the lively Lord’s Prayer, Jerry said, “Now is the time for the ‘Greeting of Peace.’ Let those around you know you are someone who wants to understand, in any way that is comfortable for you.” Jerry turned and gave each of the young people a gentle handshake. Some of the girls hugged one another and a few couples gave each other a kiss. As Marge gave Rebecca a hug, the reporter noticed a girl step out of a pew and approach the teen with the backward cap and extend her hand. He slapped it away. What an insensitive little bastard! He isn’t little, though, she thought as she bent down and kissed Ricky on the forehead. He turned pink and grinned.
Jerry held up a large gold cup, took out one of the small white wafers and held it in front of him. “We Catholics believe this is the body of Christ. We eat this as a sign of our union with Him and with one another. We believe that through this communion we gain strength to love and understand one another. I have not seen some of you before. If you are not Catholic but do wish to dedicate yourself to loving and understanding others, then feel free to join us in our Communion.”
Rebecca was impressed with his easy manner. He did not talk down to the young people. He began to give the wafers to those near the altar and then came around to the opening at the communion rail. Rebecca positioned herself near the door close to those receiving communion. Young people lined up in the center aisle but before attending to them, Jerry came over to the side aisle and gave Ricky communion. She got what she hoped was another memorable picture. Jerry held up a wafer and looked questionably at her. She shrugged her shoulders and he nodded. As others had done she took the wafer in her left hand and put it in her mouth with her right. It didn’t have much taste but she guessed it wasn’t supposed to.
She was surprised Backward Cap was standing in the line behind her and Marge.
Nearly everyone was singing a song with a refrain that included, “They’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love, oh, they’ll know we are Christian by our love.”
When Backward Cap came to the front of the line, Jerry whispered something to him. The fellow was as tall as Jerry, and heavier. He seemed to stagger a bit as he stood there. Jerry held the wafer in front of the teenager and said, “Okay?”
“Fuck you, man!” Backward Cap lurched forward and thumped Jerry hard on the forehead. The priest reeled from the blow. “Take your Jesus-bread and shove it up your ass!” Quicker than Rebecca could imagine possible and before she could get her camera ready, Jerry handed the chalice to the girl next in line, turned the fellow around, pulled his arm behind him with one hand, grabbed his hair with the other, pulling his head down.
“Open that door!” Jerry nodded toward the side entrance.
Marge pushed on the crash-bar just as Jerry heaved the fellow out the door. Breathing hard, Jerry pulled up his robe and took out a set of keys and calmly selected one. “Marge, would you please go over to the house and call the sheriff. Tell him what happened. Number’s by the phone. Better go through the front door.” He pointed toward the entrance.
“Do you know the boy’s name?” Marge asked.
“Kenny Gaffin, sheriff’s son.”
As Marge made her way down the aisle, Rebecca heard Jerry ask two of the fellows to see if Kenny was okay. Nearly everyone in the church appeared shocked by the incident. Jerry apologized for being so “unkind” to the young man and then proceeded with the service.
At the end of the Mass, Rebecca followed the others outside the church and found a grim-faced Jerry standing near the door, greeting people as they came out. One girl was saying to him, “Father, you didn’t have to apologize for what you did. Kenny is a bully— he’s that way at school, too.”
“Thanks, Susan. I could have handled it better, though.”
“Please don’t let it stop our youth Mass!”
A big round-faced kid came up to him and attempted a ‘high-five.’ Jerry reached up and took his hand and shook it. “Way to go, man, er, Father. Didn’t know you were such a tough dude.”
“Joe, I really don’t like being a tough dude. I hope I can find a better way next time, if there is one.”
“Aw, Father, don’t worry, you did good.” He gave Jerry a big smile and left.
The greetings continued in this vein until Kathy, Marge, and Ricky, the last ones to exit, joined them. Rebecca gave Marge a hug and took Kathy’s hand. “Kathy, your singing was beautiful. I love that song.”
“Thank you, Rebecca. I like it, too.”
“It shows! You sang with such feeling.” Even in the dim light, Rebecca could see that Kathy was blushing.
Ricky, sitting on his cart near the top of a new wooden ramp, stammered, “I, I, li, li, like, y, y, your so, so, song too.”
Kathy took Ricky’s hand, “Thank you, Ricky. I’m glad you liked it.”
Marge addressed the priest, “Well, Father Jerry, that was quite a show. I haven’t been here for weeks, is it this exciting every Saturday?”
“Oh, sure, I stage a special event each time. Speaking of special events, Kathy, your song was beautiful. Thank you!”
Kathy whispered, “You’re welcome.”
“I’m glad you joined us, Marge, but I’m sorry I lost my temper with the boy.”
“What do you think he’ll do now? I heard him tell the two boys with him that he was going to ‘get you.’ I told Sheriff Gaffin that.”
“I don’t know what he’ll do.” The sheriff drove up. “That’s the boy’s dad. I’ll talk to him. Hey, Ricky, I’m sure the sheriff will give you a ride home. Want me to ask him? Ricky smiled, shook his head, and quickly went down the ramp.
“Will you ladies wait for me at the house?”
They nodded.
* * *
When they entered the rectory, Marge headed for the kitchen. “I don’t know about you two, but I need a drink. Let’s see what our boy has around here.” Rebecca and Kathy watched as Marge opened the refrigerator. There wasn’t even a beer in it. She began opening cupboards and finally found a sealed bottle of Christian Brother’s brandy. “How about some brandy?”
“Fine with me.” Kathy said. “Do you think he’ll mind?”
“Not if we tell him we’re celebrating your performance.”
Marge sure feels at home around here, Rebecca thought. She wondered how much time the professor spends with Jerry.
Not finding any brandy snifters, Marge poured the brandy into four ordinary drinking glasses. Kathy and Rebecca picked up their glasses and Marge took two and headed back to the living room. Marge answered Rebecca’s question by saying, “He’s got this fixed up quite nicely.”
Kathy sat down opposite Rebecca on the couch. “I understand his predecessor did it, or more likely, had it done. I think he was more interested in his creature comforts than in the parish. Fixing up the rectory for himself would be the last thing Father Jerry would do.”
&
nbsp; Rebecca’s focus changed and she began wondering how much time this pretty blond spent in the rectory. Rebecca looked at Kathy and Marge. “I have a question I’d like to ask you two. I hope you won’t be offended but you both are very attractive and I was wondering if, uh, Father Haloran has ever made a pass at either of you?”
Kathy reddened and looked embarrassed. Marge smiled and said, “If either of us said ‘yes,’ would you put that in your article?”
“Oh, god no. I was just wondering. It must get lonely here for him and well ... he is human.” She turned to Kathy.
“He sure hasn’t made a pass at me and I’ve known him for nearly six years. Of course, most of that time I was a nun.” Kathy chuckled. “He uses that vow of celibacy of his like a wall.”
Rebecca wondered if Kathy wanted to jump over that wall.
Marge laughed as she said, “Shall we see if we can make the wall come tumbling down?” They all laughed.
They were still giggling when the door opened and Father Jerry entered still dressed in his black cassock. “Sounds like fun in here. What did I miss?”
Marge got up from the recliner and held out a glass of brandy. “We were just talking about you.”
Without smiling, he took the glass from Marge and sipped the brandy. “I’m funny, huh?”
For some reason, Kathy felt it necessary to come to his rescue. “No, Marge was just trying to be funny.”
He paused a moment than added, “Let me get out of this thing. I’ll be right back.” He stepped into the bedroom, closed the door, and only a couple of minutes later came back out wearing another faded blue plaid short-sleeved shirt. Rebecca thought she should send him a new shirt or two as a thank-you for seeing her over the weekend.
Marge got up from the recliner and held up her glass of brandy. “A toast to Kathy and her wonderful performance.”
Father Jerry picked up his glass from an end table. “I’ll drink to that.”