by Ursula Paul
“Simon! Congratulations!” Julian, Eddie and Joe chorused simultaneously.
He looked into the three smiling faces, as each vigorously shook his hands.
“Guys, it’s so good to see you! This is all a bit much!”
“Tell us about it!” Joe agreed. “Swamped in people! But they are so happy for you, Simon.
And so are we.”
“Now boys, I hope you don’t mind – more relations to catch up with Simon,” Marj Jackson interrupted.
“It’s okay.” Julian voiced the support from all three. “Simon, we’ll move on and let your other relatives and friends congratulate you. We’re not going away – see you at the reception.”
“Make sure you do!” Simon was adamant.
Chapter Three
Simon had expected that his first appointment would be as a curate in one of the country towns. But – no – the bishop had directed that he spend the first couple of years of his priesthood in Armidale. As junior curate to the bishop and five other clergy, at first Simon found this life rather daunting. Some days he visited the sick with a senior cleric, other days he observed Scripture lessons given by another senior cleric and on other days again he was taken on visit to the major hospitals – in each case as an observer.
A month passed. He was beginning to inwardly question how long would his ‘observer’ time last – weeks, months, or even longer! – when one morning Dan, the priest administrator, called him to his office.
“Well Simon, how do you like things here?”
“Fine.”
“Not quite true, eh?” laughed the older man.
“Well, okay then,” smiled Simon, beginning to relax.
“We always go this way,” explained Dan. “Just show you young’uns around before we put you to work… Now your easy time is over,” he added with a grin.
Simon remained silent, waiting for Dan to continue.
“We’ll still involve you in the different ministries. But, right now – Basil will be away for three weeks. As you know, he’s the hospital chaplain. How do you feel about filling in for him? – not as in depth as Basil works – just to keep visits going. Now and then you’ll receive requests for some type of help when the patient leaves hospital. Now and then you may be verbally abused! And now and then you may have to listen to a long, long story, mainly about nothing, from a loner. But mainly we’re there offering any service required from the Church. Some request the Sacrament of Reconciliation, many happily accept the Eucharist and most are happy with a blessing. So, Simon, what do you think? Are you okay with filling in for Basil for the next three weeks?”
“Thanks, Dan. I’m ready and happy to fill in. But I won’t be up to Basil’s standards.”
“No one is,” laughed Dan. “And don’t let anything worry you. We’re always here to help in any way.”
“Thanks. When do I start?”
“In a couple of days, if that’s all right.”
“Yes. That’s fine.”
At the end of his first day of hospital ministry, Dan approached him. “Well, Simon, how was it?”
“No problems,” smiled Simon. “I think those in for the long haul missed Basil. But, overall, no complaints. And,” he added, “I rather enjoyed it. Most patients are very chatty.”
By the end of the second week Simon was beginning to feel like an ‘old hand.’ It was a special ministry, he knew, but not completely his ministry. Still, he enjoyed interaction with patients, the majority of whom were hospitalized for curable problems.
On the last day of the second week while visiting the last ward for the day, he was approached by a nursing sister from another ward.
“Excuse me.” She spoke quietly. “You’re a minister, aren’t you?”
Simon nodded.
“We have a patient,” she continued. “A patient in a special non-visiting area who has asked for a minister. You don’t have to come. He’s in isolation – in the final stages of AIDS. He will die within weeks. With precautions there will be no danger to you. But you can decline.”
“Take me there,” responded Simon immediately.
“Thanks.”
After donning the prescribed gown and following proceedings, Simon entered a darkened room where a figure lay motionless in the hospital bed. Simon moved to the side of the bed and looked down on the pale, emaciated face, studded by two brown eyes staring at him.
“Hi, mate!” Simon whispered softly, gently taking the bony hand. “I’m Simon. I’m a Catholic priest. Would you like me to sit here with you for a while?”
The head nodded. Suddenly his eyes were drowned in tears as sobs wracked the thin body.
“It’s okay, mate. Let it out!” Simon spoke quietly as he gently squeezed the hand he held.
Gradually the sobs eased, the eyes cleared. Minutes later he whispered, “My name’s Brad. Do you mind if I talk to you? No one wants to listen to my story.”
“Of course.”
Slowly, in broken whispers, Brad told his story to someone who listened.
Three years ago Brad had met a man whom he thought would be the love of his life. They moved in together and became a couple. When Brad’s parents heard of it, they sent him the ultimatum – either give up this relationship, never, ever again enter a homosexual relationship or be disowned completely and for always. Brad believed in the love and trust of his partner and, sadly, watched his family cut him out of their lives. All went well in the relationship for a short time – that is until his partner left him for a handsome young sportsman. Brad was devastated. But his plight grew even worse when he faced what he had suspected months before – he had AIDS. A few of his friends supported him to the present. He knew he was dying but he really didn’t care – what was left for him in life!
Brad, his little strength used in telling his story, closed his eyes. Minutes later he opened them.
“You still here?”
“Yes, Brad. Do you want me to go?”
“Yeah.”
“There is something, though, isn’t there? You did ask for a minister.”
“Changed my mind.”
“Okay Brad. I’ll come again. I’ll go now – but give you a blessing first.”
Brad closed his eyes during the blessing, then whispered “Thank you,” as Simon left the room.
There, but for the grace of God, go I, an inner voice kept whispering. Throughout the weekend Simon’s thoughts continued to centre on Brad. Brad’s welfare, inner rather than outer, was the prime intention of his weekend liturgies.
Monday morning to the hospital – he decided to see Brad first before other hospital calls.
To his surprise the special area was deserted. At the nurses station on the same floor he received the news – Brad had died on the night he had visited. Arrangements had been made by the family who had originally ‘disowned’ him, and he had already been flown to another State.
Simon’s first reaction was surprise – surprise at the suddenness of events; then questions – questions as to the disowning family who had now claimed him; and finally sadness – sadness for a young life, deeply hurt and snuffed out.
Automatically, Simon continued with his hospital ministry. On returning home he found Dan saying his Office in the garden.
“Dan, can we talk, please?”
“Sure Simon.”
After telling Brad’s story, Simon added, “Dan, what else should I have done?”
“Nothing,” replied the older man. “A blessing was all he was ready for then. Life is never black and white. There is a time for everything, but we may never know at which time. Humans do all sorts of things to themselves – and then blame God. By the sound of things that kid has suffered quite a lot – at the hands of different people. Now, I reckon, he’s at peace, at home with God – wherever that is!”
“Thanks Dan. You’re right.”
Chapter Four
The years flew by, full and fast. Simon’s stay in Armidale continued longer than the proposed two years
. His ministry, including schools, parish and hospital, was extended to part-time chaplaincy at the University. Over the years the four friends kept in contact – each always available to share the joys, problems or questions of the others. From the time of ordination each had set out on a separate physical journey of life. But all were still bonded in their friendship journey. On special rare occasions, they met up. And, in post-ordination years, the telephone was the main contact unit.
Each of Simon’s friends realized how poignant, yet questioning, his encounter with Brad had been. Thence followed other ministries for Simon, in particular his ministry at the University. The students accepted him as one of them. He helped them prepare debates; he gave a little private coaching (on the side!) to students phased by study. More importantly he counselled when needed and, most importantly, he was a friend and listener.
Simon would look back on his six years in Armidale with happy memories. But the happiest of all were his days working with the students.
When the call came from the bishop, he guessed he would be asked to move, even before the meeting.
“You have done great work with students,” the bishop began. “And I hope we will be able to return you to similar work shortly. But right now, we need an assistant in Walcha. Our numbers have dwindled slightly so, unfortunately, our need in parish must take you from your great work with the students.”
Deep down, Simon felt his disappointment. His work with students gave him happiness and fulfilment. Quietly, he hid his disappointment with, “Thanks, Bishop.”
Chapter Five
Life in the presbytery in Walcha was almost a culture shock. Eris Doran, the parish priest, welcomed Simon as royalty. At the beginning, Simon was quietly frustrated with the lack of order. Eris could forget the time when visiting parishioners or at his once-a-week golf day.
Hence the time of midday dinner could vary up to an hour, much to the chagrin of the housekeeper. Yet once Simon became used to his parish priest’s ways, he began to appreciate this kind, caring man.
Simon soon settled into his new parish life. Eris was open to suggestions and quite happily agreed to Simon’s ideas. Following Vatican II, Antioch Youth groups were beginning to be set up. Simon had already set one up in his last year in Armidale. Not long after his arrival in Walcha, an Antioch group was soon flourishing there too.
Simon had matured since his early days in Armidale. Now he was able to empathise with young people’s questions and worries and help them work through – or at least begin to do so – without taking the problems to himself and considering he had to answer them.
For Simon, life in Walcha was happy and fulfilling. His two happy years there were just coming to an end when he received a letter from the bishop. The Diocesan Pastoral Council had decided that the diocese needed a priest to be involved as Youth Leader of the diocese and Simon had been chosen. He would be based in Armidale. Simon answered his acceptance with gratitude and requested a meeting. Simon wanted to be sure that the bishop accepted his sexuality, even though Simon was determined to remain celibate throughout his life.
Chapter Six
Simon awoke to a fine, but cloudy day. Lunch with the bishop was scheduled for just after midday. There was no need for hurry. He left with time to spare, to drive slowly thinking over what he would say to the bishop – and perhaps imagining what the bishop would say to him. He had been up-front with the bishop regarding his sexuality before ordination and acceptance as a pastor in the diocese.
But, prior to accepting the new ministry with students, he needed to be sure of the bishop’s faith in him. Bishop Welton was a serious man. Simon had found him fair, in spite of talk among some of the clergy that his front was a cover for unsolved problems. Simon had found him approachable, although at times slightly arrogant. Simon had requested this meeting to personally express his gratitude for the offer of this new youth ministry and to discuss the pertinent points of the new constitution. He also needed to ensure that the bishop, aware of his sexuality, trusted him fully in this new role. Still a virgin, Simon had no sexual attraction towards the youth.
As he drove closer he could feel the old anger building up inside him. Why I am different? Why do I have to defend myself? Why can’t I trust even my own parents to accept the real me? Then he remembered how his three special friends had always accepted him in full.
His arrival coincided with the ringing of the Angelus, so he knew his timing was perfect.
“Hello Simon,” greeted the bishop’s secretary. “I’ve been trying to call you for the past hour – just caught your boss a few minutes ago so it was too late to get a message to you. The bishop had an emergency call from Tenterfield – had to go at once – looks like the old man up there has had a stroke. Bishop Weldon apologises. He’ll reschedule this meeting with you as soon as he gets back. For now – lunch will be served shortly. And… (Simon noticed the sunshine previously in her voice had turned icy) “Alberto is gracing us with his presence today. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Thanks,” Simon smiled. “Please tell Bishop Weldon it’s okay. I’ll come over when he returns. It’s not far. And I will stay for lunch, thanks.”
Lunch was tasty but devoid of much conversation.
Simon had met Alberto previously but knew little of this short, fat, bald Italian priest. Rumour had it that Alberto Ponti had come out from Italy shortly after the war but had never settled in any parish for long. The bishop had taken him under his wing, officially appointing him to the Cathedral parish. But Alberto seemed to move around as he pleased.
Simon was about to leave when Alberto asked, “So, are you accepting the job of youth minister?”
Rather taken aback, Simon replied, “I need to talk to the bishop before any final decision is made.”
“Umph!”
“Well…” Simon was unsure of how to address this rather unpleasant little man. “I must be going back. I’ll speak to the bishop later.”
“Wait!” It was a command rather than a suggestion. “No need to hurry. You haven’t far to go and plenty of time to do it in. I’ll show you around – the schools, parish hall, places you’ll see plenty of… when you take on this appointment!” There was an inflection in the last phrase that sent a shiver through Simon.
“I really should be getting back!” Simon meant it.
“So the curates these days come through ignoring the offered help of their elders!”
Once more Simon was taken aback. “No, it’s not that. It’s just that I should be getting back. But,” expecting that this priest may not have many opportunities to show off, added, “I could find an hour to be shown around. Thanks.”
“Leave your car here. You can get it later. We’ll take my car.”
At first they drove around the perimeters of the school, with next to no descriptions from driver. Then down a street close by with the bare description ‘parish hall.’
“Thanks, Alberto.”
“Not finished yet. More out further.”
“Oh… Okay… I didn’t realize the Church had more property out this way,” Simon commented as the car left the main highway and headed down a narrow gravel road, surrounded by heavy foliage on both sides.
Suddenly the car stopped and Simon’s life was changed forever. Without warning, the older man’s hands were all over him, groping for the fly of his trousers, pulling Simon’s face around.
“What the bloody hell!” Simon gasped as realization dawned.
“Come on Simon,” Alberto rasped. “You knew what was coming. You want it too!”
“Get away!” Simon shouted as he fought to free himself.
“You want it rough, do you!”
Simon struggled against the weight of the other and the strength of his hands. Although to Simon it seemed like a century, he soon freed himself and jumped from the car.
“Get back in!” Alberto sneered.
With inner strength, Simon shouted, “Go!” He banged the car door closed.
“Poofte
r! Poofter!” Alberto screamed, as he turned the car and drove back down the lane.
Immediately Simon’s inner strength faded. He collapsed on the road. His whole body shook. Shock had enveloped him, mind and body.
As in a dream he soon picked himself up and began to run. Run! He seemed to be running for his life. ‘Poofter! Poofter’ kept ringing in his ears.
“No! No!” he breathed as he ran. “He must know! He’ll tell my mother!” Mind and body were out of focus. “I must stop him! No! It’s too late! Why…? Why…?”
In his unfocused state, all rational thoughts evaporated as ‘poofter, poofter’ hammered in his brain. No way could he imagine, let alone reason, that it was impossible for Alberto to know of his sexuality. Nor could Simon know, or even guess, that Alberto’s catch-cry to all would-be victims – regardless of their sexuality unknown to him – over many years was always ‘poofter, poofter.’ Many years later this was revealed in evidence at his trial.
In a state of deep shock and devoid of all logical thought, Simon kept running. Unaware of his aching legs, he ran. Unaware of the traffic racing beside him, he ran. Unaware of his racing heartbeat, he ran.
He ran until he stopped suddenly at the presbytery gate. Would that monster be waiting for him? Quickly and stealthily Simon crept to his car, opened it quickly and, within seconds, steered the car onto the highway.
Chapter Seven
The call from the hospital came through around 5 pm. Stole and holy water, Eris Doran mumbled to himself as he collected all he thought needed. He had promised his former housekeeper, Mollie O’Toole, that he would be with her to ‘pray her through the passage’ as she described moving from life to death. Twice before he had had urgent calls that Mollie was on the point of death. Now, the third time, the hospital had assured him that she was in a coma and her body was shutting down.
