The Gathering (39 page)

They settled themselves into old, but again well-maintained, chairs. The Toccos could hear kitchen sounds as well as smell the aroma of food cooking. Stan did not seem to advert to it. They wondered whether he had a cook … or perhaps a live-in housekeeper? Somehow both of them considered it highly unlikely that, given his druthers, Stanley would be living with anyone.

The three chatted about the past. They went back a long way, since junior high. Stan had entered the group only because Koesler had, in effect, sponsored him. But once he’d joined, the others had accepted him in the spirit of Christian charity if not genuine camaraderie.

A quiet bell sounded from the kitchen. Stan excused himself. A few minutes later, he returned to announce that dinner was served. He had been chef, cook, and bottle-washer.

The pièce de résistance was a delicious-looking beef stew that had simmered to perfection through the day. In response to Stan’s invitation, Manny offered a prayer, after which they proceeded to pass the serving dishes. The conversation continued in the same vein as before, reminiscences of the good old days. Manny, Alice, Stan, and the others. How alive they’d all been. How healthy. How filled with anticipation of life to come.

By the time dessert and coffee were served, they had moved on to the present. Alice cleared her throat, a sign the serious side of this evening had arrived. So, thought Stan, still no such thing as a free lunch.

Alice launched into the sad tale of their daughter and their granddaughter. All had been going so well until their son-in-law had fallen to this strange disease. The effect his premature death had had on his pregnant wife. Then the arrival of little Louise. Followed by her reaction to gluten, the clue that provided the diagnosis for Ralph’s disease … a disease he had passed on to his then unborn baby girl.

It had all proved too much for Rose. It was like a Greek tragedy: Just when they thought they had a handle on this string of disasters, something new would pop up.

During Alice’s narration of these events, Manny experienced acute discomfort. He shrank from hanging his family linen out for others to see. Further, even before he and Alice had had the opportunity to plead their case, Manny was ashamed that he had to beg a favor. Particularly since, to Manny, this was no actual favor, but rather a claim to what was Louise’s right.

Stan listened intently as Alice described the celiac disease that father had passed on to daughter. Stan had read something of the illness. Though it had principally to do with wheat, Stan had never made the connection with the bread used in Communion. Not until now.

The granddaughter of Manny and Alice had celiac disease and was expected to receive her First Holy Communion. A contradiction in terms. A classic dilemma. Rome had spoken. But all Rome had said was that wheat bread was the one and only bread that could be used for valid Communion. Something like a traffic sign that reads:
DETOUR
and adds,
FIND ALTERNATE ROUTE
. Not very helpful.

Alice plowed ahead with her plea, but Stan was no longer listening. In his mind’s eye he could see what surely would happen should he do anything that would satisfy the Toccos.

PRIEST GIVES GIRL HER DAILY BREAD; ROME BURNS.

And the like.

Alice finished with an account of their meeting with Statner. The conclusion: Communion under the species of wine alone—valid, and skirts the issue of bread and gluten. But still too daring for Stan. One word to the media and he would get the publicity he had, for all these long years, managed to avoid.

In his heart, Stan could not have disagreed more with Statner’s solution. Of course the little girl had every right to Communion in the same manner as the other children. If that meant a separate place on the altar for a nonwheat wafer, so be it. If anything, Stan would have had the entire Communion class receive nonwheat wafers. There would be no problem in finding an acceptable substitute for wheat, as Louise and her family had been doing for most of her young life.

Solving this sacramental issue in the fashion acceptable to the Toccos was what Stan’s conscience dictated. But it was not what he would or could advise Manny and Alice.

He told the couple that he did not agree with Father Statner. At this, their hearts soared—only to be dashed to the ground once more. For Father Benson stated that the fact that Louise was unable to consume wheat bread was a sign from God that Holy Communion was not to be a part of her life. God undoubtedly would make up for the loss in some way.

If they wanted still another opinion they could shop around. But he knew they were unlikely to find a more liberal opinion than his or Statner’s. Rome had been too crystal-clear on this matter.

And, thought Stan, take that, you media hounds! I’m not going to hand you my head on a platter. I’ve been hiding my light under a bushel for too long to let the sun shine in now.

Unconscious of having mixed his metaphors, Stan felt relieved that he had reasoned himself off the hook. But he was despondent over what he had done to these friends of his. These now
former
friends, he feared.

Manny stood abruptly, tipping over his chair, which fell to the floor. He was furious. Alice was apprehensive. She had seen her husband this angry when he had nearly killed her former husband. She touched his arm tentatively, tenderly. Manny slowly unstiffened. That meant at least he wasn’t going to hit—and therefore annihilate—Stan.

Instead, Manny turned and strode from the room, Alice following at his heels. They retrieved their coats and Manny held the door for his wife, as they wordlessly let themselves out.

Leaving the neighborhood, he drove too fast. Alice touched his arm. He exhaled deeply, and slowed down.

“Is the world going mad?” Manny asked of no one. “I haven’t heard theology like that since the forties!”

Now convinced that her husband wasn’t going to make Gratiot a speedway, or return to maul Stan, Alice quietly sobbed. “What can we do?” she asked finally, dabbing at her eyes.

After some moments, Manny responded. “I’m not sure.”

“Do we go see Bob Koesler? He might have some workable way out.”

“No. I don’t think so. I’m beginning to think this thing is a hot potato. I’m pretty sure Bob would help us. But I don’t want to put any pressure on him. Besides, I’m tired of shopping around.”

“Then what?”

“I’ve been thinking lately about the Episcopal Church.”

“Leave the Catholic Church! How could we do that? You were almost a priest. I was almost a nun,” she added after a moment.

“‘Almost’ doesn’t count.”

Silence.

“There’s an Episcopal church not far from us. We could look into it. The way I feel now, honey, it’s the Episcopalians or nothing.”

Nothing.
Both quietly contemplated an existence without organized religion.

Could they break a lifelong habit?

Father Stan Benson finished the dishes. He surveyed the kitchen. It had been fun getting things straightened around. New windows and doors so tightly fitted that they were almost burglarproof. A stove fan that worked for a change. He moved into the living room. The interior painted, and the furniture reupholstered. Yes, it had been fun.

Why didn’t they just leave him alone?

Most people thought of Stan—if they thought of him at all—as a relic of the thirteenth century. And they treated him like a relic. They venerated him, but considered him a statue on the mantelpiece.

Once in a while, someone from the past, friendly, would consult him. As Manny and Alice had just done.

Could he have helped them? But of course. Granted, he didn’t have a parish now. But there were any number of tired pastors out there who would happily have let him “use” their parish to offer a First Communion Mass. Except that he had to protect his mother’s reputation as well as his own. She at one time had been considered by Catholics as a whore—and he a bastard. His mother truly believed she had been released from infamy. Stan held the controls that kept her reputation safe. Under no circumstances would he allow the truth to be revealed.

Meanwhile, occasionally someone had to be hurt—usually by Church laws and Vatican directives.

Tonight was a case in point. He’d had to uphold one of the sillier rules that came from Rome. He just couldn’t chance having his background revealed.

Why couldn’t Manny see through this whole thing? He was smart enough. He shouldn’t have let good old Stan Benson escape without challenging him. Maybe it was the “Father Knows Best” syndrome. Even for a savvy guy like Manny.

There was a point at the end of this evening when Stan had feared that Manny was going to hit him.

Manny should have done it. It would have saved Stan from the self-imposed hairshirt. God knows he needed to do penance.

   
THIRTY
   

T
HE STORY, PROBABLY APOCRYPHAL
, is told of an electrician who, years ago, was called to a convent to repair some defective wall plugs. He had been toying with the idea of converting to Catholicism. He just needed some sign to push him over the edge.

He arrived at the convent during the nuns’ late afternoon period of meditation. So all the while he worked the nuns sat silently around the spacious community room, deep in contemplation.

That very evening the man called at a rectory and told the priest he wanted to become a Catholic. The priest asked why and the electrician replied, “Any religion that can put twenty-three women together in a room for an hour of silence has got to have something going for it.”

At the time Rose Smith became Sister Marie Agnes there were rules upon rules upon rules. Those familiar with convent life of that era would not wonder at all that silence played a major role in daily routine.

Unlike Alice McMann—who briefly had been Sister Mary Benedict—Marie Agnes found comfort and deep meaning in silence. There even were stages of silence, culminating in the nighttime Grand Silence.

Virtually no one had an inkling that the Vatican Council was just over the horizon. But of the few religious Orders that were able to anticipate the new
aggiornamento
, the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, were in the van.

It is almost impossible now to list chronologically the changes in minds and lifestyles that took place. Among the early transformations were the return to maiden names; replacing the head-to-toe traditional garb with modified habits; visiting family homes, albeit with permission and the accompaniment of another Sister. A short time later, contemporary dress replaced the modified habits, with, perhaps, a small cross pinned to the lapel. And Sisters could go where they wished without permission and without any escort.

Sisters chose from a myriad of ministries, such as nursing, catechetics, the practice of law, and serving in parishes that didn’t even have schools, to mention just a few. Nuns sought to go where the spirit called. Modern formation sometimes ended in foreign countries. Communities might be formed anywhere. For the very first time nuns could choose their residences and their assignments.