Chapter 12.
Preparations.
The Fourth Week
of Advent! Before sunrise, on his way to prepare for Holy Mass, Fratelli
detoured and took a quick stroll in his garden. Sure enough, two of the birds
were there: the blue macaw called “Prince” and the green parrot Gianni had
described. His blaring, red-colored head peered amongst the shrubbery. Waving
his hands, Fratelli shouted at them:
“Go on, scat, you rebellious birds!!”
They must have
heard for at once, they both flew away, high into the sky and out of sight.
Reaching the
cathedral, he opened the grand doors and strolled into the coolness. In the
broad aisle, Francesca and Iona’s husbands carried large pots of white flowers
while their wives watched directing them where to go:
“A little more
to the right, now to the left…yes, that’s perfect!”
Cardinal Fratelli
smiled, seeing his family hard at work to beautify the church for Christmas
Eve’s celebration. Thin rays of dawn-light began to dance, beaming through stained-glass,
and turning the floor many colors. People began trickling in, townspeople and
their families. Fratelli crept close as not to disturb them but Burt,
Francine’s father, unseated from a pew and stumbled forth. Fratelli took Burt’s
hand, steadying him as he spoke, “Your Eminence, I knew you would come see me.”
Burt reached to
kiss the cardinal’s ring but missed, touching lips to his pinky- finger
instead.
“Burt, why don’t
you sit down,” Fratelli muttered nervously.
“I’m fine!” the
old man shouted.
Fratelli
shrugged and kept walking. Francesca saw him and ran forth then gave him a
hearty hug. He froze awkwardly then eased into a smile. Seeing his awkward
paralysis, Iona snickered then turned to scolding her husband for not putting a
huge pot of palm-fronds in the proper place. Philomena sat distantly observing
them and did not greet him. Fratelli forlornly remembered hearing years ago
that she fell away from the Catholic faith. However, this was unthinkable for a
traditional Italian family thus, she was sent to live with Burt and care for
him. Things never felt the same between them.
He felt those
dark eyes lay upon him then glanced away, towards the altar and walked towards
it, his mind grasping for more prayerful thoughts. Suddenly, he turned back and
asked Burt who stood nearby, “Would you like to visit the altar with me?”
Before Burt
answered, Philomena came and grabbed the old man’s arm.
“No thanks,” she
said, “I will take him… he needs breakfast.”
Silently,
Fratelli watched Philomena guide Burt outside. More people began streaming in.
Despite the crowds, sacred space silenced the din of their voices. Fratelli
couldn’t help but think of Philomena, her probable bitterness. Frowning, he
approached the main altar, bowed then kneeled.
“Lord, my cousin saddens me. If it is true
she lost faith, please bring her to repentance. Nothing is more empty and
destitute than being without you! I couldn’t imagine being without someone as
wonderful as you, my God…is it vain or proud to pray that more would think like
me? ”
He remained
several minutes, head bowed saying nothing. Suddenly, he whirled at a crashing
sound and saw Figaro standing astounded over a shattered pot. Dirt littered the
floor and Francesca yelled at him. He apologized profusely as Fratelli neared.
“Calm down,
these things happen.”
Soon enough,
Father Rodrigo emerged with a mop and meekly began cleaning when Figaro
snatched the broom away and said, “I’ll clean it Father.”
Hearing the
clock-tower gong loudly, Fratelli stirred and swiftly walked away. Reaching the
sacristy, a room where priests donned their vestments, the horrible thought
struck him: he was going to be late for Mass!
Father Rodrigo
appeared and helped him dress. Finally, he brought the bishop’s pointed miter.
Fratelli paused a moment.
“Isn’t this the
one that’s too big for me...I don’t want it because it keeps falling off my
head.”
“No, Your
Eminence, I altered it and it should fit now.”
“Oh.”
Rodrigo started
placing the miter on his head but now it was too tight. He had to force it down
upon a wincing Fratelli who frowned. Worried about being later than he already
was, he scurried outside and towards the rear of the church- minutes after the
processional hymn had begun. The strains of “O Clavis David”, a song which brimmed with expectation of the
Savior, rose high. White-clad altar servers and acolytes turned around briefly,
eyeing him. Fratelli soon regained his dignity however, as he strode down the
aisle, a regal, wooden crook in his hand, his eyes strait forward.
After Mass,
while solemn bells still pealed in the air, Father Rodrigo approached Fratelli
with a coil of measuring tape in his hand. The cardinal sat down and kept
scratching his forehead which, was irritated from the tight hat.
“Stop it, Your
Eminence,” Rodrigo said grabbing his hand, “You’ll make it worse.”
He sat
motionless as the priest measured his head, pursing his lips in a focused
expression.
“I don’t know
why you keep changing the size of my miters…” Fratelli remarked.
Rodrigo
murmured, “Maybe it’s your head that keeps changing sizes.”
Fratelli spun
around, staring hotly at the priest who immediately fell quiet. Careful not to
say anything else, fearing discipline had already come upon him, he resumed
measurements.
Father Rodrigo
stayed behind, ordered to polish and wash the altar vessels after his pointed
words to the cardinal. He did this gracefully however, taking the moment to be
out of the house and free from hassle.
The hassles were
just beginning…
Fratelli ate a
quiet breakfast with his cousins. Their husbands came in late, hungry and
finished what was left. When Fratelli went in the parlor to rest, Francesca and
Iona fallowed him. He turned around and asked,
“Do you need
something?”
Francesca
swirled her heel sheepishly and glanced at the floor. Then raising her eyes,
wearing the kindliest smile, she said, “We want to know what we are getting for
Christmas…”
Fratelli thought
for a moment. Taken aback, he replied,
“Why are you
thinking about that? Is this why you have been so nice towards me?”
“Well, we do
love you…our dear cousin…” Iona said sweetly.
“Get out of here
you both,” Fratelli ordered chasing them out of the parlor, “Stop being
greedy!”
Honestly, he
hadn’t thought of what to get them individually for Christmas. His party was
supposed to be the gift, a show of appreciation however; plans looked as if
they were falling apart. Fratelli’s suspicions were confirmed furthermore when
the violinist arrived and explained his whole troupe had fallen sick.
“How could all
of you be ill?” Fratelli gasped.
“I am not sick,”
the violinist replied then coughed, “But I fear I’m getting there.”
He promised if
they recovered in time, they would perform. Fratelli didn’t mention it to
Francine who visited before noon, singing praises about the party, her
expectations high. Fratelli secretly wondered if this party had eclipsed the
true meaning of Christmas- the birth of mankind’s Savior.
Fratelli came
out his office weary and wiping his forehead as Gianni charged down the hall,
blurring past him and bumping into Francine. She turned and scolded the boy.
“Be calm
Francine,” he told her, then scolded Gianni himself, “What did we discuss about
running in the hall? Now go outside.”
“What is that
boy doing here?” Francine demanded.
“He has no
parents,” Fratelli responded, “You are welcome to take him in.”
“Heavens no!”
After Francine
huffed and left, the cardinal sighed and gazed at one of the old paintings in
the hallway: A well-dressed lady out for an afternoon, flashy, pink parasol in
hand, a white poodle yipping at her feet. Strangely, it put him at peace. Dina
came out of the kitchen bringing tea to Francesca and Iona who once again,
gathered in the parlor talking about trifles and laughing. She bowed as she
passed by, her hands bearing the silver teapot. Fratelli nodded back then
walked the opposite direction, going outside.
There was no
sign of the escaped birds in his garden and for this, he felt grateful. Perhaps
they moved on to a better, greener place- or even returned home to their master.
Viewing the
evergreens and glistening, holly hedges which began to produce cheery, red
berries and hearing a squirrel scamper above, Fratelli wondered, “Lord, your creation is beautiful, why can’t
we act more beautiful?”
Then, at once,
he startlingly realized, he himself had behaved rather vain and self-centered the
whole month. He crossed himself, wearing a shamed expression, and slowly headed
towards the cathedral. In cool, dim light, he passed grey marble columns, pews
and sparking beds of candles on his hesitant way towards the confessional where
he knew Father Rodrigo waited.
Chapter
13.
Quarrels
Fratelli knelt
in darkness and stated, “Bless me Father
for I have sinned.”
Although Rodrigo
heard the voice and saw a blur of bright red through the screen, he said
nothing, pretending he didn’t know who was there.
“I feel as if I
have been so harsh towards my family for their wanting to enjoy life… My vanity
has gotten the best of me and all I can think about is how I wish everything to
be perfect and it is not… My sins are irritability, self-love, pride and lack
of charity. For these, I ask the Lord’s forgiveness.”
Fratelli didn’t
move, bowing his head, feeling slight sweat upon his brow as he received
absolution. He would try better this time.
Walking back to
his villa, he felt a cool breeze and folded his hands happily, meekly striding
through the door. Francesca’s yelling at once, greeted him.
“Stop trying to
keep grandpapa to yourself and bring him over here. This is unfair!”
Philomena
shouted back, “I’ve taken care of him for 5 years now, don’t tell me what to
do!”
They kept
arguing even as Fratelli approached. He waved his arms in the air saying,
“Please stop it… I will tell Francine to bring Burt here.”
Philomena glared
angrily at him but knew she couldn’t argue anymore. Instead, she stormed out.
Fratelli sighed, looking at the window as evening shadows began to fall. He
whispered a quiet prayer.
~ ~ ~
Christmas Eve!
The day was finally here. Dina steadily cleaned the house with Gianni’s help.
Rodrigo and Fratelli tidied the cathedral. Anxiously, the cardinal ran back
into the house.
“I have a
wonderful idea for my sermon!” he panted.
“I thought you
already wrote it,” Dina said.
“I did,”
Fratelli answered, “But it is not as profound as what I’ve thought of just
now.”
He hurried into
the office, searched beneath a pile of papers and found his written sermon. In
an elaborate gesture, he tore this up, throwing the sheds away and began
writing on a blank page. Dina closed the office door so he may have some
privacy.
Monsignor Barolo
arrived late in the afternoon. He wore black robes, a silken purple cloak and a
perfect, felt hat. Still, he leaned on a cane, growing weary easily and was
assisted by a younger priest. Fratelli came from his office and greeted him.
“I am glad you
arrived early,” he said, “I know it’s a day’s journey from your home.”
“You think I’d
miss out on the feasting?” the monsignor laughed.
Fratelli darted
back, grabbed his newly-written sermon and met Barolo in the parlor where he
read it aloud. Delighted to hear
Fratelli’s delicate words, he requested that he read the same sermon for
tonight’s midnight Mass. Fratelli smiled, hardly able to contain his
excitement.
More excitement
and clamor ensued that night as five cooks came marching into the kitchen,
ready to prepare tomorrow’s food. This way, it would be easily and swiftly
cooked by noon. They gathered in, wielding differently-shaped knives, some fat
and short, some long and narrow then set upon chopping vegetables. Chef Tontino
barked orders as they hurried frantically to accomplish all in time. Suddenly,
one of them had a suggestion…and Tontino wasn’t one to take suggestions.
Angrily, he demanded his subordinate be quiet when another chimed in. More
suggestions- and opinions. At once, they began bickering and fighting.
Wondering about
the yelling, Fratelli opened the kitchen door and narrowly evaded a flying
tomato that splatted against the wall.
“What on earth?”
he stammered.
Tontino trudged forth;
clutching his white apron in his hands, and irately threw it down.
“I cannot work
with these impudent men!” he shouted.
Fratelli started
speaking but he’d already left. One by one the cooks asserted they could not
work with eachother and left, eventually deserting a young baker who obliviously
wadded dough in his hands.
“I suppose you
will go to?”
As night fell,
Fratelli waited anxiously for the hours to pass. It felt necessary to get his
mind off the party, how it had been likely ruined. Nervously, he ironed his
fresh white, gold-threaded vestments… then ironed them again. Dina had to stop
him before he burned a hole in the precious fabric.
“Your Eminence,
go do something else!” she cried, “For goodness sake, you are making me
nervous!”
Finding
Burt sitting by himself in front of the window, touching his fingers to the
cold glass, Fratelli helped him up and led him into the cathedral. Standing by
the great entryway, he saw groups of children making their way to a house
nearby, singing loud, joyous carols in Italian. A small group of people passed
him nodding with respect. It was almost midnight. Retreating to the cathedral’s
sacristy where those beautiful, white vestments waited, he could feel
excitement mounting within his soul.
Cardinal
Fratelli’s nervous excitement almost carried him away while he stood, fully
attired, hearing the beautiful hymn “Adeste
Fideles” ring out, calling all the faithful to worship. As the cathedral’s
bell-towers sang into the night, so did the distant clock-tower announce
midnight. He trembled in anticipation. However, his energy focused once time
came to deliver the sermon. Instead of sitting and preaching as he usually did,
Fratelli walked to the high pulpit, straitened the miter on his head and spoke:
“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 long pause. He
had finished. What else could he say? He uttered a silent thanksgiving he
didn’t trip or stumble nor make any mistake. Sitting back down, Fratelli wiped
sweat from his cheek- or was it a tear?
Collecting
his dignity, Fratelli changed into regular garb and walked
home. Tiredly, he laid down on his
bed in total darkness and while hearing many voices downstairs, drifted asleep.
Chapter 14.
Christmas Day.
After next morning’s
Mass, while still dressed in bishop’s finery, he distributed brightly-wrapped
presents to Lucca’s poor and homeless children. Standing amongst them, handing
a brilliant green parcel to a smiling girl, he felt as though he were some odd
echo of Saint Nicholas, young and un-bearded, of course.
Returning home,
Fratelli was surprised to smell cakes baking in the kitchen. Dina, Gianni and
Barolo’s attendant brought them out to the hungry family who had been fasting
since last night, as was customary in Italy. In the sun-soaked dining room,
savoring the plainly cooked breakfast, they ate. Francesca’s children were even
at this moment fairly quiet, shoving eachother and whispering. Twelve wilted
pots of poinsettias decorated the two, long dining tables, which had been
brought together in the parlor. Fratelli blessed the food and poured the tea.
This also being something he customarily did.
“The first shall
be the last” they chanted and allowed Francesca’s youngest child, Anna, to sit
in Fratelli’s usual place of honor. She giggled and kicked her feet while
chewing on a golden brown cake.
Francine sat
beside Father Rodrigo, who sat next to Fratelli with Monsignor on his other
side. She frowned, seeing no violinist or exotic birds but stayed quiet,
containing her upset within. Fratelli almost frowned too. His party came to
nothing, the décor looked sad, not cheery, and no music lifted their hearts.
Michele and
Ernesto met him outside in the garden. His brother put an arm around him and
said: “I know you tried, Your Eminence…but I think things turned out fine.”
Because the
cooks left behind so much uncooked food, the whole family joined together in
preparing it. Yes, they made everything simple, no cheese-stuffed meat or
chocolate cannoli, just simple dishes and simple bread. Francesca’s children
lent aid however; they made things quite messy by dropping a few eggs. They set
these dishes down on the table, putting the golden-yellow butter squash
casserole between Fratelli and Ernesto, who sat across from him. The two
brothers simultaneously grabbed for the serving spoon, trying to shove each
other’s hand aside and both took heaping portions.
Although they
grew tired by noon, the Fratelli family still gathered, each holding a box in
their hand and began setting up the crèche.
Francine placed
a beautiful painted cow and statue of the Virgin Mary in the manger first; her
three daughters positioned the three wise men. Smiling radiantly, laughing,
Michele put down the pearly-coated lamb. Ernesto followed with Joseph. Burt
un-wrapped his figurines: the two shepherds. However, where one of the
shepherds should be, was a naked statue of Venus!
Fratelli blushed
seeing it and Michele laughed girlishly. Monsignor Barolo, who watched from a
distance, cracked his face in a smile.
“Umm, Burt?”
Francine said, quickly trying to snatch the statue.
“Let go, I’m
putting the shepherds in!” he insisted irately then put nude Venus down next to
the lamb.
They didn’t say
anything but collectively snickered. Once everyone calmed, Fratelli silently
removed it.
Into the
manger-scene, he lastly placed the fair, innocent-faced baby Christ. For a
tranquil moment, they crowded around, in silence, adoring the infant Savior.
Next, the children lit candles, sang a traditional Italian carol and set them
in each parlor window. They gave Gianni a candle. He hesitantly set his down
last.
Dina entered
with mixed-wine. They drank and talked. Suddenly, Fratelli stood, drawing
silence from the crowd. Even the children quietly wriggled in their chairs.
“There is
something I wish to say…” he began.
“Say it!”
Francine shouted anticipant.
He continued,
“As you know, my dear family, I had planned a splendid party for today’s
celebration with music and entertainment- a day you should always remember. Due
to unforeseen circumstances, this could not happen and I apologize….and since
this was also intended to be a gift for each of you, I have nothing else to
give…”
Michele gently
stood up and hugged his arm.
“It’s okay
Angelo, we are all here,” she assured.
The
cardinal moved away and she sat back down. The he paced back and forth a bit
before he spoke again:
“Dina, you have
worked for me tirelessly over 3 years and never asked for anything in return
besides your rightful pay. My heart sinks, because I never gave you one
Christmas present.”
She began to
speak but he interrupted, “I know how much you care for Gianni and wish to have
a son of your own… so I will help you adopt the boy…and with the money I did
not spend on music, entertainment and such, I decided to purchase that house
across the street, as Michele doesn’t require it anymore, and give it to you.”
Dina froze as
all eyes fell upon her.
“Your Eminence-
you are a saint! That…that is all I ever wanted…” she rambled, stifling tears.
Bashfully, she
covered her face and ran from the room. Ernesto stood ready to go after but
Fratelli stopped him.
“Give her time.”
Francine then
unseated.
“Well, I didn’t forget to buy presents…” she
declared with pride.
She passed
around small, brightly colored boxes to each person, even the many children,
and watched the family open them. Looking into his box, Fratelli saw shiny, red
house-slippers, without holes in them.
“New slippers!”
he cried like a young boy, “I have badly needed these.”
His lips curled
in silent gratitude. Picking up on this joy, Anna scampered across the floor
and curled beneath his arm. Together, they shared such happiness. Perhaps,
Fratelli mused, this fared better than a huge, splendid party. This, after all
was the peace he sought on Christmas Day.
As the entire
family walked outside, through the gardens, raising a song, the cathedral’s
columned façade sparkled in sunlight. Atop a spire perched three colorful birds
watching, one white, one blue and the other green with a splash of red.
~ The end.
