The Cardinal's Family Matters, ch 5-6

Chapter 5.

      An Invitation 

      Wednesday. Even in early morning, the villa buzzed with people. Fratelli entered the parlor to find Lucca’s main florist arranging lilies in a vase. Francine watched from a distance, frowning whenever he put one flower in the wrong place. Finally, she interfered and began arranging them to her “better” judgment. Sighing, the grey-haired florist walked away and grabbed a bouquet of small, pink blossoms. He saw Fratelli and greeted him:

      “Your Eminence, I wanted to show you my idea for Easter…”

      He leaned over and produced a huge, pure white lily, dripping with dew, bright green leaves arrayed like outstretched arms.

      “Isn’t she beautiful?” asked the florist.

      “Very much so,” Fratelli answered taking the lily and sniffing its delicate fragrance.

      He closed his eyes feeling a moment of peace.

      “I grew these myself, gave them the best water and nourishment,” the florist began, “I call her: “Candida Magnifica”.”

      Fratelli nodded. He approached the vase where Francine was tirelessly working and then inserted the large white lily at its center.

      “Angelo, you can’t just put that anywhere…” his aunt remarked.

      “Leave it alone Francine.”  

      When all activity seemed to die down, Fratelli snuck into his private chapel. He methodically lit the six candles sitting upon the altar, bowed before the golden tabernacle which contained the holy body of Christ, and knelt down. Breathing cool air, he savored silence, hearing no sound or bustling beyond the door. Slowly opening his lips, he spoke:

      “Lord God, you are almighty over the heavens and the earth. You watch us at our daily lays, our work and worries. I have many worries, this you know… My thoughts, you can count them and yes, they are like a bunch of coins that have fallen on the floor. Please still my heart. St Joseph patron of workers and protector of the Church, pray for me. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost...”

      He traced a delicate cross over himself. Reluctantly, he stood and walked to the office where the day’s paperwork, documents and mail awaited. Father Rodrigo sat at the desk and when Fratelli took his seat, he handed a broad envelope to him.

      “What is this?” the cardinal asked.

      “Read it…just read it!” Rodrigo exclaimed.

      The envelope was made of fine parchment. It bore an ornate monogram and a red wax seal: the Seal of Tuscany. Apprehensively, Fratelli opened this letter. Taken aback, he arched his brows, held the paper high and read:

      “To His Eminence, the Most Reverend, Angelo Cardinal Fratelli…”

      In a dramatic huff, Fratelli caught his breath from having stuffed all those words in one sentence. Then he continued:

      “My sincere condolences upon hearing of the death of your Great Uncle. Know that my prayers go out to you. I have also heard that your young cousin, the lady, Philomena Leona Fratelli, is staying at your residence. I desire to meet her and with your blessing, possibly seek her courtship. Therefore, for the Holy Easter feast, I invite you and your kin to my father’s palace for celebrations. Please come, minding my most-earnest intent, for I am deeply expecting you.

      Signed, Lamberto D’Constanza II.”

      Anxiously, Fratelli’s hands crinkled the letter’s edges. Rodrigo snatched it from him and re-read it diligently. Setting it down, he stared at the nerve-racked cardinal, saying:

      “What is wrong, Your Eminence. A letter from the duke’s son- this sounds like a very good thing.”

      “I don’t like this,” Fratelli blurted out, “I never cared much for the Lamberto II. He is dissolute and boorish, much into drinking and revelry. I do not want him courting my dear cousin.”

      “But will you reject the invitation?”

      Putting a hand on his chin, pondering, Fratelli replied, “I suppose I may not be able to. I’ve always had uneasy relations with the duke and his family…ever since excommunicating his son, Lambert II. Thank God he repented and came back into the Lord’s fold.

      No, I don’t need to make matters worse. They already perceive me as a pompous buffoon of sorts- which I am not! We shall go to his celebration but perhaps, perhaps there is an easy way to get his eyes off of Philomena.”

      His voice sounded both hopeful and unsure. Clasping his fingers, he played with his golden ring. Rodrigo stopped him.

      “Quit being so tense. Everything will be fine.”

      “Who are you to tell me if I should be tense or not? I’ll be tense as I please,” Fratelli retorted.

      He stepped from the office and found Dina carrying a glass of water.

      “Your Eminence, I brought this for you…” she said.

      He took the glass and thirstily drank, quenching his parched mouth.

      “Thank you, you are so kind,” he responded between sips.

      Then, he paused, asking:

      “Where is Philomena?”

      “She’s getting some sun in the garden.”

      Fratelli darted outside. He needed to speak with her.

      Philomena rested on a bench, holding a parasol over her head as sun streamed down. Birds merrily sang of spring. Paolo, the gardener, wearing dirty slacks and a thin shirt, stood next to her, He had just handed Philomena a fresh-cut rose when Fratelli emerged. Seeing the cardinal and his serious expression, Paolo withdrew then left.

      “Merciful goodness! Is every man in Lucca under your spell?” he pointedly asked.

      She laughed at him.

      “I don’t see any humor in this,” Fratelli asserted.

      “And that’s why it’s humorous,” she answered, stifling more giggles.

      He blushed somewhat, glanced away then returned his amber eyes to her onyx-colored stare. Their gazes locked briefly, engaged in some sort of contest of wills. Philomena won out. Her forthrightness was too strong. Carefully, she explained:

      “Now, you realize that I have a mind of my own and that I intend to use it.”

Chapter 6.

      The Foot-washing.

      Afternoon slowly went by. Nervously, Cardinal Fratelli paced in the parlor. Hot sun streaked through the windows. Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, he smiled. This evening was the beginning of the Sacred Triduum: the three days before Easter Sunday. Such an exciting and busy time! Fratelli could hardly wait. In fact, he was growing so excited he couldn’t eat.

      “Your Eminence,” Dina said coming into the room, “Please get something to eat.”

      “Oh, yes, yes!” he replied.

      Though his mind focused on other things than food, he hastily went to lunch, sat down before a bowl of grapes and picked at them. Rodrigo entered, Gianni trailed behind. The boy helped himself to bread and a heaping knife-full of butter.

      “Don’t take so much!” Rodrigo rebuked.

      Sheepishly, Gianni scooped some butter back as Philomena appeared. She sat across from the cardinal, her dainty fingers choosing a grape and popping it into her mouth. Anxiously, Fratelli realized he must tell her, sooner or later about Lamberto D’Costanza’s letter- and his intentions. He fidgeted, put both hands under the table and toyed with his ring. Rodrigo noticed but said nothing.

      Very reluctant, Fratelli followed Philomena back in the parlor after they’d finished eating. She turned around immediately and asked:

      “What is it?”

      “You and I…need to talk.”

      “If this is about me coming back to the church and going to Mass…”

      “No,” Fratelli replied, resting in a chair by the window, “Though I would like to discuss that very much, I need to tell you about Easter. Our plans have changed. Instead of dining at Francine’s house, we have been invited to a rather large feast…at the palace of the duke.”

      “Really?” she replied excitedly, putting her hands together, “I have never been there before. Oh, it will be so wonderful and luxurious!”

      “Philomena.”

      “Yes Angelo?”

      Quietly, wearing a nervous expression, the cardinal shut the door. Philomena eyed him strangely, dreading what he would say next.

      He forced the words out:

      “Philomena, you don’t have to go along with this but I must tell you that Lamberto II, the duke’s son…wishes to court you.”

      Then he glanced away, slowly, slightly returning his gaze. Surprisingly, Philomena didn’t seemed shocked or upset. He shrugged. Smiling, she responded, “I was getting tired of Carlo anyway. He’s too quiet and it annoys me when you always have to guess what a man’s thinking- but Lamberto II, I feel so honored! They say he is outgoing and dashingly handsome!”

      Fratelli groaned. He had been expecting a different reaction.

      Evening shadows finally fell. Townspeople bustled through the square and crowded into the cathedral. Bell loudly rang in the air. The Mass of the Lord’s Last Supper had begun. Fratelli, donned in rich white vestments and a plain miter, processed across the long aisle. The beautiful, violet vestments were retired. Lent had ended anticipant of glorious Eastertide. When time came for Fratelli to give his homily, he momentarily grew silent, his thoughts dizzily circling. At once, he collected the thoughts and stuffed them elsewhere in his mind. He preached smoothly, concluding in proud voice:

      “Seek Christ in the bread of life. He says “Come unto me all who are weary and heavy-laden and I shall give you rest.” In his offering to mankind, he gives life, by his death, life. At the supper before his death, he verily did tell the disciples: “This is my body- this is my life. I give myself to each of you.”.”

     

      Rather than displaying gladness over his finished sermon, Fratelli expressed anxiety. Once a year came a ritual he didn’t savor much: the one night when Lucca’s bishop would wash the feet of twelve townsmen in imitation of Jesus Christ at the Last Supper. Of course, he reminded himself, he was Lucca’s bishop. He ignored creeping dread as he removed his beautiful vestments and walked, clad in a bare, white robe, towards the altar where twelve men stood. They waited- and so did their dirty feet. Oh, how ugly and calloused those feet were!

      Rodrigo, standing to the right, handed him a soaking wet rag. Gulping back pride, he knelt as the first man lifted his foot, placing it in his hand. Fratelli washed methodically one pair of feet after another, soon forgetting his humiliation and instead pondering what it felt like for the Lord of all creation to be there in his place. Jesus surely was far greater than he, a perfect being, and yet subjected himself to most harrowing debasement. Sighing, standing back up, he whispered a thanksgiving to God for putting up with him.

        Did Fratelli truly realize how much of his life     
drew from God? Could he perceive just how God  lowered himself? For them? For him? The thought of it made him tremble throughout the solemn prayers, tremble before the sacred host as he lifted it high. This was his body given up for all men- his life

                 

The Cardinal's Family Matters, ch 3-4

 Chapter 3.

      A Day of Rest.

      Monday morning, Cardinal Fratelli met Gianni within the dimly-lit cathedral. Sunlight soon flooded in, causing marble floors and tiles to glow. The boy wore pristine white robes and squirmed nervously at his place before the high-altar.

      “You will kneel just like that to receive the host upon your tongue,” Fratelli told him.

      In jest, Gianni stuck out his tongue and made an odd noise. The cardinal was not amused. He continued instructing:

      “When you receive your Lord and Savior, always do well to thank him with a multitude of prayers. Keep your mind on the most holy sacrament- on his gifts…”

      Leaning over the altar-rail, Gianni then asked, “What if it tastes bad?”

      “It won’t taste bad.”

      “How do you know?”

      “Gianni!”

      Feeling scolded, Gianni stood and slinked into a front pew where he crossed his arms, huffing. In some strange way, this reminded Fratelli very much of himself and he glanced aside at an ornate stained-glass window, slightly grinning. Wordlessly, he retreated down the aisle with Gianni distantly trailing after. When Fratelli prayerfully folded his hands together, the boy did so also- though more playful than prayerful.

      Entering the dining-room, Fratelli ate breakfast with Father Rodrigo, his secretary who pleasantly informed him about the events of this week. Holy Week, as it was called. Fratelli’s mind began to race and he grew quiet.

      “I wish for today to be a day of rest,” Fratelli finally stated.

      “That is fine, Your Eminence.”

      Rodrigo glanced out the window. Trees rustled audibly against the glass. Leaves swirled in wind. The entire earth was shedding its brown winter coat and donning the green splendor of spring.

      Taking the daily newspaper off a table in the hallway, Fratelli trekked upstairs. He drew back his bedroom curtains, letting golden sun pour in and scrambled through a top dresser-drawer. At last, his hands seized upon a small tin: his secret stash of Turkish delight!

      Fratelli sat in his comfortable chair, opened the tin, took one of the delicate, powdered candies and ate it. He smiled from the sweetness. Resting his feet on a plump pillow, he unfolded the paper then slowly began to read. So enjoyable, he mused…

      Suddenly, there was loud buzzing and a furious tickle as a fly dove right into his ear. Fratelli sat up rigidly. He slapped his ear. The fly flew out unharmed and circled above him. Watching it dance overhead, Fratelli folded the newspaper then swung! He missed.

      Very annoyed at being so blatantly disturbed, Fratelli didn’t give up. He followed that tiny fly around the room, swatting again and again. Finally, it landed on a statuette. Fratelli focused…he struck hard. The statue came crashing down but not the fly.

      “Lord, I know you have use for your creatures…and declared them all good- yet this one is despicable!” he hissed.

      The door opened and Dina came in. She eyed the broken ceramic statue. Then she saw the cardinal poised, warrior-like, with newspaper in hand.

      “Your Eminence! What is the matter with you?” she cried.

      “It’s a fly…” he answered, pointing to the dresser where a little black dot scurried.

      Dina approached, swiftly yanking the newspaper from his hand. Her expression displayed an inner temptation to whack him with it…but she only stuffed the paper in her dress-pocket and went to open the window. Patiently, she shooed the fly outside. Then she recovered a small broom and dust-pan that were leaning against the wall and swept the broken, glass pieces.

      She said, her voice flat:

      “Now, continue resting, Your Eminence…”

      “Thank you Dina,” he replied.

      “It was nothing at all…you men and your silly compulsion to hit things!”

      Fratelli sheepishly watched her go. He spent the afternoon’s remainder straitening up his room. Once everything was tidied, he went outside on the veranda to nap.

      Meanwhile inside, Dina was setting the table for dinner when she heard a knock at the door. Answering, she found Francine standing there, several bags under her arms, and Philomena’s slim figure waiting behind her.

      “Oh, come in,” Dina exclaimed, “His Eminence is sleeping. I will wake him and tell him you both are here.”

      “No Dina, allow me,” Francine replied.

      Wearing a mischievous smile, Francine quietly stepped on the veranda. Sunlight made her auburn hair flash a bright, reddish color. She plucked a leaf from the nearby palm and slowly touched it to Fratelli’s ear. Immediately, the cardinal snapped awake, smacked his ear and hollered. Francine suppressed laughter and plainly said:

      “That is what happens when you are slothful.”

      Fratelli’s amber eyes glared hotly. He removed his red cap and angrily squeezed it in one hand.

      “Good evening, Francine,” he growled.

Chapter 4.

      A New Resident.

      Still rather upset, Fratelli ignored Francine as he hurried inside to meet Philomena. The black-haired woman, his youngest cousin, weakly smiled and greeted him. He bent over to help carry her bags upstairs. She silently followed. They reached Dina’s old room, the one she lived in before moving to the house across the street which Fratelli had purchased for her two years ago. It was a gesture of appreciation she continued to enjoy. Dina indeed didn’t miss the small room and its one window that faced the city street. Philomena however, didn’t seem to mind.

      “Thank you Angelo, for letting me stay here. I am still so grieved over losing my grandfather.”

      “I know, I know…” Fratelli said sympathetically.

      Philomena moved back the bed’s sheets to lie down.

      “It’s comfortable!” she exclaimed, patting the soft mattress.

      “Yes, yes…” Fratelli mumbled then turned to leave.

      He wasn’t intentionally acting aloof. A lot swarmed in his mind. Preparations for this week ahead, Gianni’s first communion, Michele’s baby…

      “Angelo,” Philomena said.

      He gazed at her as she spoke:

      “Thank you.”

      “You are very welcome, my dear cousin,” he replied, smiling.

      Pale rays of dawn-light, woke Cardinal Fratelli. He dressed, recited morning-prayer and went downstairs to find Philomena munching on breakfast- in her night-gown.

      “Philomena!” he stammered, “You are in a house full of priests. Merciful goodness, go and dress properly!”

      She rolled her dark eyes and strode past him, back up the stairs. Fratelli sighed and sat down as Father Rodrigo came in. Silently, the priest seated, sipped tea and looked out the window. It was a beautiful spring day indeed.

      After breakfast, Dina summoned Fratelli, telling him, “Your Eminence, Carlo is here with the new wine for Easter.”

      “Splendid,” the cardinal replied, smiling.

      Exiting a side door, Fratelli met Carlo, the local vintner. A tall, black-eyed, black-haired man, he held one bottle in his hand.

      “Blush made from nothing but the purest grapes,” he said, “I bottled this myself for you to try, Your Eminence.”

      “Why, thank you,” Fratelli replied.

      Carlo also brought forth a case of bottles. Though the wine within was a pale pink, the tinted glass made it look red as blood. The cardinal smiled as he examined it but Dina poked his shoulder. He turned when she said:

      “Your Eminence, maybe you should go inside when Carlo gets the barrel out…you remember what happened two years ago.”

      Recalling how he got in the way and Carlo accidentally set a barrel down on his unfortunate toe, Fratelli grumbled and walked back indoors. He almost bumped into Philomena who now wore a pastel green dress, inlaid with small pearls. His cousin curiously peered past him towards Carlo. Fratelli closed the door. Then, she scowled at him and strode away, feeling rather closed in.

      Reaching the hallway, she turned and stated, “Angelo, I am going out this evening.”

      “Going out?” he asked, “What for? With whom?”

      “I can’t stay here cooped up in this dusty house,” she answered.

      “I think Dina does a fine job dusting,” he replied obliviously, scratching his right cheek.

      “I mean I want to be outside…and doing things,” she said, “That man, Carlo is the one taking me to dinner?”

      “Carlo? Dinner? When did this happen?”

      “Angelo, I met him on the way into town. Please don’t be nosy,” she retorted beginning to walk away.

      Fratelli reached out and snatched her arm, quickly but gently.

      “Hey, stop it,” she laughed, batting at him.

      “It’s my duty to make sure you are safe and enjoying the best welfare,” he declared, “You can go out with Carlo for dinner- but I’m coming with you.”

      She loudly groaned.

      ~ ~ ~

      Fratelli hurried to finish his reading and paper-work. After reciting evening-prayer, he immediately met Philomena in the parlor. She waited there, wearing the same dress as before but with silk gloves and a sparkling broche. Seeing him, she wiped her forehead in exasperation. Her face expressed dour protest. She wanted to cry out that she was a fully grown woman and could go wherever but knew Fratelli wouldn’t budge. His paternal sensibilities couldn’t allow it. As the cardinal’s cousin, she reluctantly had to cope. While Fratelli donned fine, red gloves and his saturno, a broad-rimmed, scarlet-colored hat, she paced back and forth. Of course, within minutes, he began feeling rather nervous himself!

      A knock sounded, Philomena jolted, making way towards the door. Dina already answered and had let Carlo in. The man stood tall, his head almost touching the ceiling, and bowed to both her and Fratelli. His dark green suit and blocky, black shoes contrasted the hallway’s surrounding, delicate décor. He then took the cardinal’s hand and kissed his ring. He tried to take Philomena’s delicate hand but one look from Fratelli stopped him. She rolled her eyes again. This was not going to be a very enjoyable night.

      Together they walked to a still carriage led by one of Carlo’s light-brown draft horses. As humans approached, he raised his majestic head and snorted. Philomena patted the horse and felt his wiry mane.

      “Good boy,” she whispered, “Let’s go real fast now and make Angelo regret he ever came along…”

      Indeed, Fratelli sat in the back, behind them, crossing his arms against chill night. It felt colder than he expected. Once boarded and sitting comfortable, Philomena offered to drive.

      “But…as the gentleman, I should drive…” Carlo insisted.

      She gazed at him, her shiny eyes pleading. He relented and handed her the long, coiled whip. Grinning, she snapped it in the air. At once, the horse took off with such speed that Fratelli’s hat flew from his head. Lunging desperately, he caught it and clumsily tumbled back into his seat. He had a feeling she did that on purpose.

      Carlo’s house sat on a quiet hillside. Its white, stucco walls crowned the ridge which was covered in green rows of carefully cultivated vines. Many servants and cooks greeted them, especially interested in the cardinal. They crowded into the foyer, lining up to greet him. Fratelli spoke with them shortly before escaping into the dining room. He then joined Carlo and his cousin at table. Their dinner was rather simple but hearty; thick bread, warm pasta and chicken stew. Fratelli was glad to see black olives and he admittedly hogged them.

      Throughout the night, Philomena excitedly talked. She told about her travel from the north to Lucca, her eventful first night at Angelo’s house and her plans for Easter. Listening silently, Carlo nodded again and again. Fratelli yawned, sensing the hours grow long.

      It was late when they returned. Softly, they came indoors and tread along the hallway. Irate that Fratelli had been following her during the whole night, Philomena spun and told him:

      “You can go anywhere you want, but I can’t. This is part of the reason I left the Church behind. They believe that women are to be restricted.”

      Startled, feeling encroaching upset, Fratelli shouted, “You are to be protected!”

      “Who says I need to be protected?”

      “Listen to me, Philomena,” Fratelli said more gently, “If I go out at night and an awful thing happens, they will just find someone to replace me but you- you are irreplaceable.”

      At those words, her eyes softened. Her lips almost quivered. Stuffing away anger, she mumbled some unintelligible word and left.

The Cardinal's Family Matters, chapters 1-2

Chapter 1.

      Plenty to think about.

      The clustered city of Lucca bathed in spring sunlight, warmer than usual. People lazily milled about the streets and heat rose off the pavement. Beneath shade cast by the city’s towering cathedral, a man sat. He was about 34 years old.  His red finery draped over the stone steps. Tilting his broad-brimmed hat against invading sun, he continued to brush dust off a long strip of violet cloth.

      Seeing a dark smudge, he began scraping with his fingernail. When the fingernail broke, he groaned, biting it off, and spit it into the tall grass nearby. Then tirelessly, he resumed his task.

      Another man, clad in black, priestly robes, approached. He gazed forth then said:

      “Your Eminence, you are cleaning that stole again? How did it get dirty this time?”

      “Rodrigo, I don’t ask anymore,” the man replied, “I just clean things when they get dirty.”

      Rodrigo pulled a white envelope out from his pocket, handing it over.

      “This is addressed to the Most Reverend, Cardinal Fratelli…from your aunt, Francine Fratelli.”

      Rodrigo lingered, his black eyes peering curiously, as Fratelli took the letter. The cardinal anxiously moved aside and wedged his curly, brown hair beneath his hat then stared back, his own amber-colored eyes intent… waiting. Hesitantly, Rodrigo got the hint and left. Alone, Fratelli gently set his violet stole, a garment of sacred priesthood, over one knee and tore open the envelope. He smelled old paper while reading:

     

      Dear Angelo,

     It is with utmost sorrow, that I inform you of my father Burt’s death. I am very grateful to have been visiting with him when he passed. I was with him, holding his hand at the last moment. The next day, we held a funeral at the local, parish church and buried him next to your mother and father… and beside his wife, just as he desired... May God grant peace to his soul.

     I am sure you will hold a Mass for him as soon as possible. Angelo, you have always been a faithful priest even if you could never be a husband- like I so badly wanted.”

     Reading those words, Fratelli sighed and nervously scratched his chin. Wiping some sweat from his forehead, he removed his hat and stood. He kept reading:

      “Now I also wish to tell you Philomena is returning home with me. However, my house, for the time being, is ill-prepared to take her. I must ask you a favor… Angelo, please let her stay with you. This should not be a problem at all. We shall be returning in time for Easter Sunday. Please pray for our safe arrival!

Your Aunt,

 Francine Leona Fratelli.

       

      Fratelli thought for a moment, scratched his chin again and delicately folded the purple stole. Feeling warm from blazing sunlight, he moved inside the cool, dark cathedral. Soundless and careful, he walked down the central aisle and neared the small, side altar of St. Joseph to the right. Set in white stone, the kindly saint gazed, held a lily frond with one hand and blessed with the other. The cardinal knelt there several minutes, whispering a prayer. Silently, he wandered towards a row of flickering candles then lit another.

      “May his soul rest in peace O Lord, and may your perpetual light shine upon him,” Fratelli sighed.

       Actually, he felt glad that Burt now found himself in a better place. During these last years, the elderly man had gone blind and felt a lot of pain. At the end, heaven was the best thing… Within the candle-lit, sacred shadows, he delicately crossed himself and stepped back outside. Heat instantly greeted him. Trees rustled as the breeze increased, sending down a flutter of leaves. Fratelli batted one leaf away from his face and snorted, wrinkling his nose rabbit-like. No, he mused to himself, he didn’t worry about Burt- it was Francine he worried about.

      Arriving inside his small villa adjacent to the cathedral, Fratelli hung his hat, which had grown dusty by now. Dina, the housekeeper, stood in the hallway wearing a pastel-blue dress. She spotted him and immediately grabbed her feather-duster. Approaching Fratelli, she brushed the cardinal’s dirt-encrusted hat- and his face. He sneezed.

      “Stop that!” he said, swatting at ticklish feathers.

      “You are getting dust everywhere, Your Eminence!” she retorted.

      Fratelli moaned, kicked off his shoes and strolled past her. Sitting in his office, facing its one, westward window, Fratelli pondered Francine’s letter some more. He didn’t feel too anxious or excited. Rather, the next morning, which was Palm Sunday, occupied his mind. It was a holy day when Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem and subsequent passion were recalled: a bittersweet day indeed.

      After resting, Cardinal Fratelli dashed upstairs. He fetched his scarlet red vestments for tomorrow’s Mass. He examined them, tracing one finger over the thin, gold lining in the shape of a cross. Once assured they were perfect, he hung them back up. He smiled excitedly. Everything about the Holy Mass and the Holy priesthood just excited him!

      Flooded with joyful thoughts, Fratelli walked downstairs. Amidst his rushing, he almost ran into Dina as she made way upstairs at the same time. She swerved, spilling the glass of cold water in her hand right onto him! Fratelli gasped and wiped his dripping, wet cassock while she scolded:

      “Your Eminence, watch where you’re going!”

      “My apologies…I am so sorry,” he stuttered, “Here, let me clean it up.”

      “No, don’t bother,” she sighed.

Chapter 2.

        Palm Sunday.

      After a quick, morning-prayer, Fratelli donned his scarlet vestments and walked to the cathedral just as sun rose above the hills. Approaching a huge crowd of people who gathered before the cathedral, bright, green palms in their hands, Fratelli donned his miter, making sure it wasn’t lopsided or too loose. Rodrigo said, also wearing red vestments next to Father Adreo, a younger priest who handed Fratelli a container of glistening holy-water. With this Fratelli sprinkled and blessed the entire crowd.

      Then they processed inside, mimicking the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, waving their palms in the air, chanting “Hosanna Filio David!”

      Hymns sounded beautifully, incense smoke rose in the air as Fratelli walked ahead sprinkling more water in front of him. Sunlight streamed through stained glass splashing the air blue, yellow and magenta. All sat meditatively and stood attentively as the Gospel account of Christ’s passion was read aloud, different readers assuming different parts, chanting fluidly. Three deacons, who had prepared for a very long time, delivered the message of suffering and love in melodic measure.

Now, the whole space fell silent. Some garments rustled and a child’s voice was hushed. Their eyes settled on Fratelli. Sitting, posture regal in his chair beside the altar, he began, his tone weak at first then gaining strength:

      “Tell ye the daughter of Sion: Behold thy king cometh to thee… (1) Rejoice greatly, O Daughter of Zion! Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and having salvation (2)” Long have we awaited the day, verily have the prophets yearned: when we would hear these words- Your King comes to you, righteous and having salvation. This King is different from the rest, coming on a humble ass but bringing salvation! Salvation!

      Who brings salvation but God? Jesus the Son Of God- True God, comes himself to deliver his people, to fulfill the Scriptures. Yet, we know that also to fulfill the Word of God which the prophets spoke, he must suffer and die. Just as the Savior of mankind arrives humbly arrayed, he dies in abject humility. He rules from the throne of the cross, paying our ransom in his blood. His Kingdom is one in which glory is purchased by suffering. It is not easy…truly he said: If you do not take up your cross, you are not worthy to follow after me. He not only saves us but calls us to be more than passive spectators. We who are unworthy, we who are small, we all have place in his coming into kingship as did the lowly ass. How he beckons each one of us! Jesus speaks upon this day saying: Come forth and bear Zion’s King!”

      Following the Mass, Fratelli welcomed Ernesto, his brother and Michele, Ernesto’s wife, to his house for breakfast. Gianni, a neighborhood boy who Dina had taken in, followed after them, eagerly sitting at the table between Fratelli and Father Rodrigo. Though this wasn’t the boys place, Fratelli ignored him as he snatched an olive from a nearby, glass bowl. Father Adreo, a younger, black-haired priest also noticed and sat elsewhere, his face betraying slight frustration.

      Ernesto helped himself to a plate of roasted tomatoes, eggs, spinach pastry and figs. The meal was large, somewhere in between breakfast and lunch… Dina came, bringing tea.

      “I would like you to join us,” Fratelli told her, “Sunday should be a day of rest for you too.”

      “Your Eminence, I would rather work,” she protested.

      “Nonsense, sit down,” he replied, lightly laughing.

      She sat in the small seat beside Michele. Ernesto put an arm around Michele, whispering something in her ear. Then he addressed the gathering:

      “Michele wants you to know that her baby is coming along well…”

      “Wouldn’t it be wonderful, if the child was born on Easter Sunday?” Fratelli responded.

      “Well, it will be very soon,” Michele stated, gazing down at her swollen figure.

      Sensing her apprehension, Ernesto said, “My dearest, you still look beautiful as when I first met you.”

      While the others smiled and giggled with joy, Gianni fidgeted, not entirely understanding. He grew bored from their conversation and excused himself.

      “Gianni,” Fratelli suddenly said.

      The boy froze in place while the cardinal continued, “Remember to meet me early next morning. We aren’t finished preparing you for First Holy Communion.”

      “Yes-sir…” Gianni mumbled.

      “What was that?”

      “Yes, Your Eminence.”

      Fratelli leaned back appearing satisfied. Dina briefly frowned towards him for being so demanding. It was only proper, the cardinal mused, that he should learn these things and do them well. He also silently mused about Michele’s pregnancy. Anxiously, he waited to be an uncle. He liked the sound of that very much: “Uncle Angelo”. A sharp voice broke his thoughts:

      “Your Eminence!”

      “Yes what?”

      Father Adreo shouted from his distant place:

      “I’ve been asking you to pass the olives for a whole minute.”

      Reluctantly, he relinquished this favorite fare, passing it down towards the priest’s ready hands. When everyone had finished, Fratelli rose to embrace his brother. The others unseated and bustled about, urging Dina to escape into the kitchen with an empty teapot.

      Once they all exchanged farewells, Fratelli scurried away to the downstairs, private chapel, to be alone and to think. However, soon as he knelt before the small altar and it’s dancing, yellow candles, Rodrigo and Adreo entered and joined him.  While they recited prayers, their voices melding together, Fratelli stuffed his annoyance deep inside. After all, the Savor of mankind has come, why should he be downcast?

      After several minutes, Fratelli moved to stand but found himself oddly pinned in place. He stared at Adreo’s one knee planted firmly on the hem of his garb. He tried to gently pry the fine cloth loose. It didn’t budge. He attempted a second time then concluded the Lord required more prayer from him.

The Cardinal's Family Matters

Now it is time to begin posting chapters from the 4th "Misadventures of cardinal Fratelli" book!


                     ~The Cardinal's Family matters.~

The Misadventures of Cardinal Fratelli endure in this 4^th novella of the series. Easter Season, the holiest season of the year, comes into full swing. Following the death of his Aunt’s father, Cardinal Fratelli prepares for his youngest cousin, Philomena’s arrival. He has trouble adjusting to this new resident who draws the eyes of many young men- including the son of the Duke of Tuscany!

Meanwhile, the boy, Gianni, readies for his first communion. Michele, who is married to Fratelli’s brother, also prepares for something important: the birth of her first child. Surprises, mishaps- and party invitations, appear around every corner and Fratelli must balance being a pastor, a chaperone and a nephew as family dysfunction rears its ugly head!

A Short Respite

After a short respite, and cleaning my rather cluttered office, I've decided to come back and write something but alas I have nothing to write! Can you imagine a preacher having nothing to write?

I was surprised to find amongst my office clutter, two volumes of St Therese's "Story of a Soul". Guilt sunk deeply into my heart as I remembered I was to read one and give one to an old friend in London. I also found lone, dried fig on the floor. Oh no, have I been eating in my office? How long ago? Then I realized that my short respite wasn't very short at all.

Time can blur by when you're off visiting various churches, (I oversee about two-hundred!) readying for the Feast of the Nativity and the Mass of Epiphany. Perhaps you forget what color you're wearing as I almost did when entering the cathedral last morning in green vestments. Thank the Good Lord I had time to change them! You see, I was just so worried about this young priest who was questioning his vocation. Then I spent an hour consoling a flustered, old couple. It seems that no matter what our age or station in life, problems come to bother us!

And I'm afraid that we often conclude that we need more vacations or respites to solve them. But our solace isn't to be found in idleness... Nor as some wrongly conclude, is it to be found in heaping ourselves over with work! Perhaps amidst our daily cares, de-cluttering and figs that we find on the floor, we need to win quiet time with the Lord. Maybe we can tell him everything and he can tell us something in return? Maybe I can break out of this slothiness and begin anew my spiritual reading?

Cardinal Fratelli's Christmas Sermon

“Brothers and sisters in Christ, The prophet Isaiah, of old, once said, thousands of years before the birth of Lord Christ:

“How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, and that preacheth peace: of him that sheweth forth good, that preacheth salvation, that saith to Sion: Thy God shall reign! (1)”

On this night, I say to you as we have heard in the Scriptures:

“For a CHILD IS BORN to us, and a son is given to us, and the government is upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called, Wonderful, Counsellor, God the Mighty, the Father of the world to come, the Prince of Peace (2).”

What are we to make of all this? Surely our minds and hearts are dizzied by the news: Our Savior has come! He is given to us. Given! And he shall reign forever! When we see the sadness and brokenness of the world, it becomes obvious that mankind longs for a Savior. We long to be rescued and delivered from evil, the wickedness of others and most importantly, our own wickedness. Don’t deny it, dear children, for soon as we think ourselves perfect, we have fallen.

But do not despair in the pit of sorrow, do not yield to your sin and say “It is hopeless” -good news has been announced to us! We have a Savior and moreso, not a Savior who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who was made like us in all things- but sin. This is wonderful! Do we realize that death and sin have been answered, have been challenged by the cry of a tender babe in Bethlehem?

His cries echo our cries and He will deliver us! I say to you: Open your hearts for Thy God, the Prince of Peace, shall reign!”

A Cardinal Fratelli Christmas ~

Please consider buying Cardinal Fratelli books for someone special this Christmas. Revolving around the mishaps of a blundering clergyman, they feature a light-hearted look at Christian faith, family and life. They are available on Amazon.com, Nook and Kindle!

^ This is the first volume, it introduces us to the lovable character of Cardinal Fratelli and shows us the little mishaps that occur every day as he lives out his priestly vocation. See how profoundly, a relationship with the Lord effects his life in meaningful- and comical ways!

http://www.amazon.com/Misadventures-Cardinal-Fratelli-1/dp/1477632255/ref=la_B0074P0N5G_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1351615524&sr=1-1

^ The second volume is all about Cardinal Fratelli’s plans for Christmas. Here, you get to meet his entire family and see their funny quirks. A strong message about the real reason for Christmas is also written into these pages. It is wonderful, endearing and hilarious!

http://www.amazon.com/The-Misadventures-Cardinal-Fratelli-Fratellis/dp/1478141514/ref=pd_sim_sbs_b_2

 HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A FUNNY NEW YEAR!