by John Ayang
Msgr. Xuereb choked, looked down, and sniffled loudly. Archbishop Ganswein looked down sorrowfully, with drooped shoulders. There was more shuffling, as some of the Cardinals whispered subdued utterances: Oh my God! Goodness gracious! Lord have mercy on us! Or: This is not happening!
But it was happening, as the Holy Father continued in his doleful, almost high-pitch, nasal tone.
Dear Brothers, I thank you most sincerely for all the love and work with which you have supported me in my ministry and I ask pardon for all my defects. And now, let us entrust the Holy Church to the care of Our Supreme Shepherd, Our Lord Jesus Christ, and implore his Holy Mother Mary, so that she may assist the Cardinal Fathers with her maternal solicitude, in electing a new Supreme Pontiff.
Cardinal Bertone seemed to have recovered a bit from his initial shock and was furiously taking notes.
Regarding myself, I wish to also devotedly serve the Holy Church of God in the future through a life dedicated to prayer.
Given this eleventh day of February, 2013, the memorial of Our Lady of Lourdes, and signed by me, Benedict XVI, Successor of Peter and Bishop of Rome until 28 February 2013.
The pope finished his announcement, folded the paper and put it back in his cassock pocket. There was no applause. Nobody moved for several seconds. Taken by surprise, the Cardinals were shocked in a manner more gripping than if the pope had died. The time was 1:10 p.m. in Rome.
The time was 8:08 p.m. in Houston, Texas, the following day, a few minutes shy of twenty-four hours since Pope Benedict renounced his papacy. Newly laicized Fr. Cletus “Nick” McCarthy had just finished a very sumptuous dinner at his parents’ place, and gone back to his room upstairs. He got out his hymnal and made ready for nighttime prayers. He usually had his night prayers early, that way he could feel free to engage in other pressing activities or watch a movie, and drop into bed any time he felt drowsy, without having to worry about forgetting it. Praying could be a chore when done in a state of drowsiness. His iPhone gave the elephant trumpet ring. Fr. Polanski had found the sound eerily annoying and had talked to Fr. McCarthy about changing it, but to no avail. He simply gave up and would endure it patiently whenever it went off in his presence. He thanked God that nobody was with him in his room. His parents were still downstairs: his mother, Hannah, was busy clearing the kitchen and packing away the dishes for the night; and his father, Stephen, was watching his favorite sports on the sitting room big screen TV.
Cletus McCarthy took the call on the third ring. “Hey, Charlie, what’s up?” sounding upbeat. He had consciously started responding to people, whether face-to-face or on the phone, with an upbeat tone to prevent them from thinking it was a big loss for him to be laicized and, therefore, talking to him with maudlin and pitiful tone. “Watching your favorite game?”
“No. I thought you might be watching the news,” Fr. Polanski said.
“What news?” Cletus McCarthy asked, confused.
“Pope Benedict has resigned his papacy.”
“What!” Cletus McCarthy shouted, involuntarily. “What did you just say?”
“Benedict XVI resigned his office as the Universal Pontiff of the Holy Roman Catholic Church,” Fr. Polanski spelled out in one breath. “Tune into CNN or BBC America. They are still giving the news now. He announced it yesterday.”
Cletus McCarthy threw his phone on the bed and scrambled to put on his small bedroom TV. He did not bother to scroll on to CNN as the first channel that came on, MSNBC, was on the news. He watched with mouth ajar as a news reporter in St. Peter’s square in Rome was giving the update about the pope’s resignation. He could see a lot of people milling around aimlessly and pigeons flying about in the background and, from the daytime look of St. Peter’s Square on the screen, he knew it was a replay, since it would have been about 3 a.m. in Rome. He repeatedly pressed the channel button on the remote control to get to the CNN channel. They had finished giving the main news and anchormen with call-in and studio panels were engaged in a back-and-forth analysis of the impact of the Supreme Pontiff’s resignation for the Catholic Church, and the long-term implications for the Christian world as a whole, having been an event not witnessed in the Church for nearly 6oo years. Cletus McCarthy slowly inched himself backward toward the bed and sat down gingerly, still watching the analyses with jaw-dropping shock. He wondered what could have made the pope resign. Picking up his phone to dial Fr. Polanski back, he noticed that it was still on. Fr. Polanski had not hung up.
“Hello,” he called, expectantly.
Fr. Polanski replied, “Yes, I knew you would need a few seconds to absorb the shock,” He said, assuredly. “Everyone is probably in shock. I am in shock myself. First, you. Then the Holy Father. Tell me, Nick, why are you guys quitting the Church so abruptly? Is there something I am missing?” His attempt at humor fell flat as his young friend sat silently, trying to absorb the situation.
“Charlie, do you think it might have something to do with my case? I read all the cruel bashings in the papers and watched some on TV”
“Nick, I don’t know,” Fr. Polanski replied, genuinely. “The pope has a million issues in the Church to treat, and none of those is famously lightweight. But I would wager there is a possibility your case may have been his last straw.”
“Well, that ain’t too consoling. Is it?”
“Dude, you asked for my opinion,” Fr. Polanski replied. “I’m just conjecturing. And when I say your case, I don’t mean your birth circumstance, but the media presentation of your resignation. You said you read the papers, and you saw it was made to sound like you were canned because your parents got you by IVF.”
“Yeah, poor Benedict,” Cletus McCarthy said, ruefully. “They say he said he resigned because of age and an enormous work stress. Well, that makes two of us.”
“Yeah, that makes two of you quitters,” Fr. Polanski threw in his barbed humor.
Cletus McCarthy chuckled and said, “Don’t start, Charlie.”
“Don’t start what?” Fr. Polanski asked. “Get off the phone, quitter. I called you just to let you know you are not alone, if that is a consolation.”
“Oh, thanks so much, Fr. Self-Righteous,” Cletus sparred with a barb of his own. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“You would still do well, especially as you now have an ally in no less a personality than the pope himself. By the way, you should make plans to join him and, together, form ‘The New Contemplative Life for Quitters’.”
“Alright. Alright, Fr. Self-Righteous,” Cletus said, aggressively. “I think you’re beginning to cross the line here. Perhaps, it might do you good to go to bed as you proposed. So, good night,” Cletus said trenchantly, then added in a low tone, “Fr. Self-Righteous.”
“I heard that,” Fr. Polanski yelled from the other end of the phone, then added also in a low tone, “Mr. Quitter.”
“I heard that,” Cletus yelled back from his side of the phone, then added in a harsh and loud whisper, “Fr. Self-Righteous.”
“Mr. Quitter,” Fr. Polanski whispered back, harshly, too, and switched off his line before Cletus had the chance to rebut. Cletus McCarthy chuckled to himself wryly and said under his breath, “Gosh! Poor Charlie is still smarting because I resigned. Well, Charlie. There is nothing I can do to help you. With time, you will get over it, as I hope to do.”
Knowing his older friend as he did, Cletus knew Fr. Polanski would continue those mock fights until he got tired of it and quit on his own. So, he resolved in his mind to always bear him out whenever he would break into such a moment, since it would also be very healing to let him fight his way through the shock as he himself was doing already. He put down the phone and went downstairs again to break the news to Stephen and Hannah McCarthy. ‘There have been laicized priests before me. But…the pope resigning!’ he thought. For him, the shock was a considerable one.
Houston, Texas
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
THE ASH WEDNESDAY Mass at the Co-Cathedral of the Sacred Heart was uncommonly glum. The news had reached everyone and there was an added aura of sadness. The faithful felt as though they had lost their dad. Cardinal Felice offered petitions for the good health of the Supreme Pontiff and prayed that when the Conclave would be convened after February 28, the Holy Spirit might direct the election process so that a worthy successor may be chosen to continue the work of the Holy Father. He suggested in his homily that what happened was, perhaps, at a very good time—coinciding with the beginning of the Lenten Season—so that the faithful might pray intensely for the Church in this age of uncertainties. At the end of Mass, not a few of the older Catholics left with teary eyes, wondering what the future of the Church was going to look like.
The work atmosphere at the Chancery was equally melancholic. As the clergy were all out for the Ash Wednesday Masses in the parishes, seminary, and convents, the lay workers found themselves in the grip of sadness, partly because, as it was clear, the resignation of a pope was extremely rare in history. Popes used to die in office, and the faithful had come to accept that as normal. For a pope to resign meant there was something more ominous, if not sinister, going on. Conspiracy theories were already rife in the air that Pope Benedict was forced to resign by the Vatican Mafia, though nobody could say exactly who constituted the Mafiosi. And the fact that nobody knew who they were and what it really was about, added to the heightened sense of curiosity and suspicion concerning what it might mean. Thus, in the grip of such excitement and curiosity, Chancery personnel took to consoling one another by swapping gossips and conjectures along the corridors and in the offices. They permitted themselves more coffee breaks than usual, so they could have the excuse to chat up one another on the novel experience.
There were assumptions, too, that the pope’s resignation might have had something to do with Fr. McCarthy’s case, though, in what sense, nobody could say. Some even believed that Cardinal Felice would be among the eligible Candidates for the papacy. Others quickly pointed out that Fr. McCarthy’s case happening on his watch was not very flattering to the Cardinal’s image and stewardship profile, and, therefore, would not merit him being considered for the papacy. Others, especially the single ladies, spent time wondering what Fr. McCarthy was going to do with himself and what his next line of life was going to be now that he was a lay person and, perhaps, the most eligible bachelor around. There was already a lot of buzz in the Chancery grapevine that his attorney, Stacy Donovan, had cornered him, and was probably going to seduce him into marrying her. A few others had already crafted a conspiracy theory to the effect that she may have been the one who actually pressured him into resigning from the priesthood so she could marry him, pointing to the fact that they were getting too close, almost always seen together since the start of the case. Stacy, herself, was not deaf to all the wild rumors, but she just ignored them, deciding to keep all her detractors guessing.
By close of work that Ash Wednesday, the total volume of deskwork done by Chancery personnel for the day was considerably less, if anything at all was done. Everyone was too excited by the recent events to sit quietly working behind a desk.
Houston, Texas
Thursday, March 7, 2013
CLETUS “NICK” MCCARTHY felt good inside as he drove back from Barbara’s place. Crystal Horacek was with him and chattered non-stop about this, that, and the other. And Cletus Horacek bore it out with the patient indulgence of a big brother. He had taken to shuttling between his birth mother’s house and his adopted parents’ house where he had always lived and had now returned to, with Jennifer’s apartment completing the triangle. He was gradually settling into his newfound layman’s life faster than he thought, and was even beginning to enjoy it. The ordinary everyday people who now constituted his circle of friends brought him a new experience and a new perspective on life in a way quite different than when he was a priest. He couldn’t figure out why he felt that way, except that the invisible, but intimidating, line that separated people from his priestly persona had dissolved and was no longer there. He was now one of them, or, they had now accepted him fully as one of them, and no longer as an authority figure.
The freedom to go into certain places where he would not go previously as a priest was exhilarating. For instance, at her insistence, a few days back, he had followed Jennifer to a topless bar where she said she suspected that the father of the young girl she was treating at the hospital, for a drug overdose that nearly took her life, would be found. Her purpose was to talk him into giving more care and attention to the girl, making sure, at least, that she did not get back on dope. Sure enough, the man was there in the front seat by the dance table, living large with friends, rocking and laughing raucously, cheering and peering between naked dancing girls’ legs and sticking dollar bills in their G-strings. Jennifer had tapped him on the shoulder and the man had turned around, looking like he was going to get angry at being interrupted during the high point of his enjoyment. When he saw and recognized who she was, and the way she demanded with authority to talk to him about his daughter, the man mellowed. Moreover, the sight of Cletus McCarthy standing there, a good three inches taller than him, with weight-lifter’s shoulders, and looking menacingly at the scene, may have prompted him to behave. He had followed Jennifer to a corner where, for almost thirty minutes, she lectured him on why he should be responsible for the good care of his daughter. She only let him off after extracting a promise from him to visit the young lady in hospital the very next day.
Cletus McCarthy had been impressed at Jennifer’s solicitousness and had started believing that ordinary people like Jennifer were, in fact, doing a better job of morally rehabilitating people than priests preaching behind pulpits. He resolved that night to be involved in advocacy work wherever his new life would take him, since doing so did not require him to be a priest. But first he needed to decide where he would settle and get a job. Staying in Houston was not possible for him. If he was going to start a new chapter in his life, then it had to be in a new environment free from the hang-ups of his former way of life.
He slammed on his brakes before he ran down a pedestrian. Crystal shrieked, caught her breath, and then started giggling as she realized everything was alright.
“Oh, you young lady of little faith!” Cletus McCarthy teased.
“I was almost sure you had run him over,” she said, breathing heavily.
“That’s why when you drive you have to be alert,” he replied, feeling a tinge of guilt because he actually wasn’t alert himself. He just saw the man at the nick of time by some stroke of luck. “How often do you drive?”
“Not very often, am afraid,” Crystal replied. “I don’t get to go out very often either. “Mom is very strict and very particular about my education. I spend almost all my free time purring over pages of books because she wants her daughter to be Alberta Einstein.”
“Is that like the female counterpart of Albert Einstein?”
“Uh hum,” Crystal replied, bobbing her head up and down. “Once I leave for college by August ending, I will be free of her. I think Mom’s a control freak.”
“She means well,” he replied, trying to defend their mother.
“I know. And I know she doesn’t want me to go through what she went through. But I think she’s paranoid about childhood suffering. She’s scared that if I flunked my grades and dropped out of school, I might wind up where she came from.”
“But that’s not what you want,” he affirmed her.
“No, and I keep assuring her, you know,” Crystal replied. “I’m like, I know what is good! Having listened to the story of her life, I am very wise now. Father, don’t you think I’m smart?”
“You are a very smart young lady, Crysie,” he assured her. “And you can quit calling me ‘Father’.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she replied, slightly embarrassed. “I don
’t know what…”
“Call me ‘Nick’,” he interrupted her.
“I’ll try. But it’ll take some time before I’m used to it,” she replied, her voice devoid of conviction. Then she deftly changed the subject again. “Has Mom told you the full story of her life?”
“She did, and I’m proud of her. I’m very proud of my two moms. They’re very brave women,” he replied, with some emotion. “Now quit talking,” he added, more as a defense against getting emotional than for needing quiet.
Jennifer was home. She came to the door at the second ring of the bell.
“Come on in,” she said, smiling beautifully. “Hey, look at you, Crysie!”
Cletus McCarthy hugged her lightly and they touched their pouting lips together making the sucking sound of a kiss.
“Good evening, Auntie Jenny,” Crystal greeted.
“We’re lucky,” Cletus said. “I was not sure about your work schedule this week. I just decided to take a chance.”
“I leave for work in thirty minutes,” Jennifer replied, putting her freshly ironed scrubs in a hanger on the wall. “Yes, you are lucky. If it were other days when I leave early, you would have missed me. Crysie, get to the kitchen and the fridge. You are no longer a stranger in my house. Ask your brother what he wants to drink.”
“What do you want to drink, Father…I meant to say, ‘Nick’,” Crystal stuttered, giggling awkwardly with embarrassment. “Auntie Jenny, he wants me to call him ‘Nick,’ but…it’s a little awkward for me. I mean I still feel him like a priest.”
“Don’t beat yourself on the head, Crysie, if you catch yourself still calling him ‘Father’. He’s only just escaped being one type of a father, but he may soon become a father in a different sense,” Jennifer said, looking coyly at Cletus McCarthy.
