(fiction, in the Lamentations series)
The communion rite came to an end. Father Gerlach stood. Everyone else then stood. He read the prayer-after-communion, but he did not read the final blessing. He sat back down, which meant that there would be some announcements, at least, if not a speaker from the missions asking for financial support. Everyone else sat back down. The busy and important ones in the pews sighed. They had come to the Saturday five o'clock mass to “get it over with,” and now it was pushing beyond 45 minutes.
“Isn’t this what the bulletin is for: announcements?” thought parishioner Diane Randazzo, not for the first time, sitting by the choir. She had lobbied her family to go to the five, despite the weather, because it would be “in and out.”
To leave now though was out of the question. If you wished to leave early, you had to do it straight from communion. Get your coat and things together ahead of time, walk up to receive the body of Christ, and then walk out the back. Don’t look down sheepishly like you’re embarrassed, but don’t make too much eye contact like you’re proud. Grab a bulletin from the usher if he’s ready. Most importantly, beat the traffic.
Jim Gallagher walked up to the lectern. “At the conclusion of mass, in the narthex, the parish council will be selling scrip for Genaurdi’s. To this date, we have raised $10,000 dollars for improvements to our Catholic education center. Thank you for your support.” He continued, “The Knights of Columbus will also be in the narthex with petitions for you to sign for school choice vouchers. Please take a minute to tell Harrisburg you want your tax dollars going to schools like Saint Jude’s. Daily mass is on the usual schedule for this week: 6:30 and nine am. So is the Thursday novena: two and eight pm.”
Jim paused. It would not be the final blessing yet. “But first, to kick off Catholic Schools Week, we have a special talk from one of our school’s finest eighth graders: Todd Henning.”
The reluctant applause was not a direct slight at young Todd personally but stemmed from the congregants’ resentment that they would now not be beating the traffic. Todd understood these dynamics. Often, it was his parents sighing when Father Gerlach or Monsignor McCoy did not roll right into the final blessing. Therefore, he understood that if his little speech was going to keep people from the Skyline Tavern or from their own televisions for another five minutes, he’d have to deliver. Like Lincoln at Gettysburg.
“Shit,” thought Brian Haines, sitting in the back under the 7th station of the cross and still stewing over the Sister of Mercy from East Africa who asked for donations last month. “Well, at least he’s not gonna guilt us like Sister Kenya did.” (Kenya was not her name.)
Todd enjoyed Catholic Schools Week. Not like he did the week before Christmas or the week at the beach with his cousins but a big fan nonetheless. This was his ninth one, including kindergarten, all at Saint Jude’s. Catholic Schools Week meant games. There was the parents-come-to-class day and the hoagie lunch. There were soft pretzels provided at snack time. Sister Maureen, the principal, added more recess. The school held assemblies, partly for fun, partly for catechesis. Todd enjoyed both. They had dress down days. There was a dance. And this year, on the front end, Todd had the honor of speaking to the five o’clock mass on the importance of Catholic schools.
“Thank you, Monsignor McCoy, Father Gerlach, Sister Maureen, and all the faculty and staff at Saint Jude’s parish and school. There is something unique about a Catholic education. That is why my parents have sent me to Saint Jude for the past eight and a half years. We learn virtues and values….”
The question of “Why Catholic schools?” for Todd and for so many of the faithful, begged the question, “Why not public schools?” As he wrote and now as he proclaimed, he had a few of the lost sheep in mind. Julianna had switched to Unami, the public middle school, and now she smoked cigarettes, or so he heard. Carly was at Unami too, and out of mocking sedition--probably not patriotism, knowing Carly--she had dyed her pubes red, white, and blue, or so he heard from someone who heard. Elizabeth left St. Jude’s too and now hung out with people who wore the baggy-goth jeans with the hanging wallet-chains and who had painted-black fingernails and Korn and NIN patches on their bookbags. Probably not many books in there, Todd presumed, and even fewer virtues and values.
“We begin our days with prayer, and then the pledge of allegiance--under God. We are not afraid to have prayer in schools. We are not afraid to practice our faith.”
In social studies class, earlier in the year, Todd learned about Al Smith, the first Catholic to run for president. Al Smith was not afraid. That’s whom he had in mind, contra Juliana and Carly. Todd learned that the KKK targeted Catholics too. “It wasn’t just black people,” Mrs. Rider told them. (There were no black people in Todd’s class and only two in the entire school.)
“In religion class, we learn the ten commandments and the beatitudes. We focus on the whole person. The mind cannot be educated at the expense of the heart. Our hearts must not become hardened, like the Pharisees' did towards Jesus.”
Todd was channeling the pride and the fear and the faith that his socials studies and religion classes had given him. He had learned that Catholics, too, were put to death by the Nazis and their hardened hearts. “It wasn’t just Jewish people,” Mrs. Rider emphasized. (There were no Jews in Todd’s class.)
“When I see an elderly person needing help with a door, I try to help them. When I see a first grader hurt at recess, I ask how I can help. I believe these actions stem from the gifts of the Holy Spirit—wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord—working within me.”
John F. Kennedy, the first Catholic president, had those same gifts. That’s why he tried to bring peace and democracy to Vietnam, Mrs. Rider had told them. But anti-Catholic sentiment was high, and JFK paid the price.
“The first Friday of every month, we have mass. In third grade, Mrs. DeLellis taught us the song, ‘They'll know we are Christians by our love,’ and it is a hymn we still sing. People know us by our love.”
Todd’s grandmother, upon seeing Ted Turner on tv at a Phillies-Braves baseball game, hissed at him. Not at Hanoi Jane sitting next to him, as others were wont to do, but at Ted. Ted was not known by his love but by his money, and his anti-Catholic views apparently. He had remarked, in some pre-Twitter forum, that people getting ashes on their foreheads were “Jesus-freaks.”
“I’d hate to be him on judgment day,” Todd’s grandmother said.
“Catholic schools have a rich history. It is a history as deep as the public school system’s, if not more! When Catholic immigrants came to the United States, they needed places to preserve and practice their faith, especially when they were persecuted, and so Catholic schools were established as safe places.”
Todd went on to summarize several key moments in the history of Catholic education. He emphasized that Irish immigrants in the US had it really difficult, remembering what Mrs. Rider had said. “No one will say this, but I will. In many cases, they were treated just as badly as slaves." She had revealed the seemingly hidden truth. “But, they worked very hard and after several generations, many achieved the American dream.” But, the fight, of course, was not over.
“At a time like now when the culture of death is popular, Catholic schools teach the culture of life. We are proud to be part of the culture of life, to end abortion, birth control, and euthanasia. To show respect for the traditional family.”
About a year prior to the speech, Todd had tried to have a serious talk with his dad, as he felt something dangerous was afoot.
“Dad, I heard that someone on Saturday Night Live tore up a picture of the pope.”
“Yes, Sinead O’Connor. Why?”
“Mrs. Rider and Mrs. Flanagan were talking about it. Is she Jewish?”
“No, she’s not Jewish. Why?”
“Well, they were talking about the ‘secular Jews’ who run Saturday Night Live. What does secular mean?”
“They said that to you all, in class?” only then giving eye contact to Todd.
“No, I overheard them in the hallway.”
“Don’t eavesdrop on other people’s conversations,” turning back away from Todd.
“Why did she tear up a picture of the pope?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are we under attack?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Why do they hate us?”
“Thank you to my parents, especially, for making the financial sacrifice of sending me to Catholic school. But as we know, it is a small sacrifice compared to the one Jesus made for us on the cross. We must not forget that. Thank you, parishioners and Father Gerlach. Saint Jude, patron of hopeless cases, pray for us.”
Todd climbed down from the lectern to applause--this round louder than before. He had done well. Most importantly, it was not yet six o’clock. He was quick enough, and the people were grateful. Back in the pew, his mom and dad gave him a side hug and kiss. His little brother stuck his tongue out as his sign of congratulations. Father Gerlach gave the final blessing. The cantor announced hymn #455, “They’ll Know We Are Christians by Our Love.” She smiled as she announced it, as it was not the originally planned closing hymn. It was a nod to Todd’s own nod to Mrs. Delellis. Some people rushed out as Father and the acolytes turned and bowed toward the altar. The rest waited until they finished walking up. No one stayed for the end of the hymn. A dozen parishioners stopped to buy the Genaurdi’s scrip. Some would go straight to the store with it. A smaller number stopped to sign the Knights’ voucher petitions to Harrisburg. Father shook hands. Three families the Hennings knew well came up to Todd to tell him he did a great job. They would see him on Wednesday, for the parent-hoagie lunch.
The organist and cantor continued to a now empty church:
We will work with each other, we will work side by side;
We will work with each other, we will work side by side;
And we'll guard each man's dignity and save each man's pride.
And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love,
Yes, they'll know we are Christians by our love.
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