A Note on Celibacy

            Yesterday at the local bakery, while waiting for a loaf of baguette, a woman approached me and asked where my wife was. She meant well and was rather flustered, perhaps overly concerned with my apparent loneliness. Very quietly, I told her “We clergymen don’t take wives. I am celibate.” My verbiage left this woman rather confused! Poor dear, scratching at her hair, she answered, “So then, what do you celebrate?”

              Since my baguette was taking longer than I expected, I figured to explain: “No madam, I said celibate, it means that someone does not marry and chooses to remain chaste for their lifetime.” At last, she understood. In horror, the poor dear cried out, “Oh, how unfortunate!”

          After I received my baguette, while walking home, I realized that this woman’s attitude resembled most everyone else’s. And when dinner was finished, I decided to write something on this matter so others may be taught:

           Do we not hear the Gospel and how Jesus passed the devious tests of the Pharisees? While the Jews concerned themselves with earthly things, who shall earn the wife of many deceased husbands, Our Lord drew towards heavenly matters: “For when they shall rise again from the dead, they shall neither marry, nor be married, but are as the angels in heaven (1)”.  He does speak here of earthly unions, saying death shall dissolve the marriage bond… yet this does not dissolve the sanctity of marriage but beholds a new reality. In eternity, our human souls become espoused to none but the Lord God who crafted them.  From His time in Eden, God had crafted holy matrimony for the blessing of humanity made in His image. He had sealed the marital bond with His charity and bestowed the gift of family, generations beyond, who will glorify His name.

                Yet despite this great good, and let us declare it such great good, not all need belong to a husband or wife in this earthly stay. Hear the apostle: “The married man is anxious with pleasing his wife while a virgin is anxious with pleasing the Lord.” Think ye of such holy examples who undertook this: Mary Magdala who fled from impurity, John the Beloved, virgin and celibate, Joseph, Father of Christ, who lived out of godly fear, in marital continence. John the Messiah’s Forerunner and the prophet Jeremiah also pledged their flesh to God. This, the burnt-offering of the Levites prefigures: all is consumed, the whole body turned to ashes. Thus, Lord Jesus hath said: “He who loses his life shall gain life.” Many deem it gravest misfortune to be made a eunuch or mutilated, yet the one who who injures self for sake of the Kingdom is instead blessed, called “As the angels in heaven.”

                May we say, “He that can take, let him take it (2).” True oblation is never forced. Duty cannot selflessly give, thus the error of the Pharisees who bound up sacrifice with law.  The cross of Christ was never duty, no, Calvary’s offering was always love. Likewise, the man who forgoes marriage and creation of young does so from love. With a burning passion, he lays himself on the altar of chastity, ever hoping to consummate that supernatural union in heaven. In heaven, no marriage is known beside that with the Lord. A consecrated soul alone becomes as the bride of Solomon, choice, whitened, a heady wine, a hidden chord of sublime music, clad in gold, sweet as the lily, fair like the dove. Know, every brother, who delights in psalms rather than children’s’ laughter, is full of God’s delight. Know, every sister who gives not suck, goes out weeping yet returneth rejoicing, singing songs of joy. Know, every father who belongs to none, raises up by word of the Gospel, numberless descendants!

Blessed are the barren trees of Our Lord’s garden! By bowing down, they shed good seed and tend the saplings. They go to the sheep, made food for life anew. By restraining the flesh, they show us the angels. They mirror eternity, forever beloved and wedded to God, melded like wax beneath a burning flame, to Love Itself.

(1)    Mark 12:25

(2)    Matthew 19:12

Cardinal Fratelli's Sunday Sermon

“For as lightning cometh out of the east, so shall the coming of the Son of Man be.” 

I ask you, who are gathered here, if you have seen God’s might proudly displayed upon the earth or skies? Do you recall that on the first day, the Almighty declared: Let there be light!? What is the light to us? Verily, Christ spoke of those who see the light before them and deny it. John, the Beloved, wrote: The light shineth in darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. Light drives away dark, dawn marks out a path, the hosts of blackness flee from light and the light exposes all deeds of men. We expect nothing less than for the doers of dark deeds to flee from and despise light. We know the children of dark despise the children of light.

Yet, who is so foolish as to say: The sun is naught, no one created it? Only a fool says in the heart there is no living God, only a person lost in darkness denies the Light Giver. Truly some walk amongst us, roaming about, declaring that God is an illusion, that men shall rule the earth, that faith is wickedness. Woe to them! Just as the sun, at high noon burns everything useless, so shall Our Lord God throw all that is dross into the fire. Be attentive! Know the wisdom of God! Walk in faith and not by deceitful sights! Consider yourselves why the Son of Man, when he cometh, asks shall he find faith on earth?

A Vacation for Cardinal Fratelli, ch. 9-10

Chapter 9.

Pointers.

The following morning, bright and early, Fratelli’s breakfast got interrupted by none other than Pisa’s archbishop. Lifting his dark purple garb off the carpeted floor, Rodolfo entered the large dining room, and stridently announced:

“Why, Cardinal Fratelli, you’re going to spend today with me!”

Fratelli couldn’t really refuse as Rodolfo laid a hefty arm on his shoulder and escorted him into the neighboring hallway. Seeing Fratelli’s plainly irritated expression, he closed the door behind them. Now ensured of privacy, he began,

“I’m deeply sorry if this is inconvenient for you… but I need your great wisdom.”

Stunned, feeling a lump in his throat and swallowing it, Fratelli answered:

“And what makes you believe I have great wisdom?”

“Oh, come on,” Rodolfo said, “Everyone knows you’re the best preacher in Italy!”

Cheeks flushing red, Fratelli glanced aside sheepishly.

“Well, I don’t know what you have heard, but I suppose I’ll try to help you,” he answered.

“Great!” cried Rodolfo.

With one hand excitedly grabbing Fratelli’s arm, he gladly led their way downstairs and outside.

Halfway to the cathedral, the two clergymen stopped into a small cafe for biscotti and coffee. Anticipation urged Rodolfo on and he suggested they finish this food while resuming their way. Not used to coffee’s strong taste, Fratelli drank slowly. Balancing a muffin in his other hand, he scrambled unsuccessfully and dropped the fine pastry.

“Merciful goodness…”

“What was that?” Rodolfo asked.

He didn’t yet discover the fallen muffin on the ground in front of them. Before taking another step, he finally looked down, saw it and frowned.

“Here, Your Eminence, take mine” he offered.

Fratelli waved his hands in a gesture of refusal then continued walking forlornly.

After about a half hour, they reached the huge cathedral. Fratelli hesitated, peering briefly at the leaning bell tower before he stepped indoors. The faint odor of incense greeted them. Wax clumped around cold candle-stands and faceless marble laid silently underfoot. It was altogether beautiful and struck oncemore by that beauty, Fratelli folded his hands and whispered thanksgiving to God.

“What did you say?” Rodolfo then asked.

Fratelli replied flatly, “I was simply praying.”

Several loudly advancing figures suddenly shattered the cathedral’s quiet grandeur. Four boys, ages between 12 and 14, wearing dusty red choir robes, came forth.

“Bon Giorno, Sua Eccellenza!” they chanted, their voices melting in a discordant tone.

 Rodolfo smiled and responded:

“Dio ti benedica. God bless you!”

 Fratelli paused, thinking. He then eyed the small choir. These boys struggled to remain still. The youngest wandered towards the central altar steps while the eldest crossed his arms and raptly ordered them back into formation. Pulling Fratelli aside, Rodolfo explained:

“As you can obviously see, my choir is badly disorganized and can’t hold a melody any better than a fish can breathe in a flowerpot…Please help me with them.”

“I’m not a musician,” Fratelli softly retorted.

“Please, Your Eminence?”

Rodolfo eyed him beggingly, like a puppy. His deep-set brown eyes seemed helpless.

Shifting his weight impatiently, the cardinal huffed, “Fine. I shall try.”

An hour was spent explaining psalm tones, perfect pitch and basic polyphony. At last, the inattentive boys mustered a chant which showed something of what they learned. Fratelli, though no choral expert himself, started teaching them an ancient introit. The song they repeated definitely sounded ancient- and definitely awful. Fratelli couldn’t make them stop. He eventually cringed, clasping both hands over his ears. Exasperated, Rodolfo blessed and dismissed them.  Feeling lifted from a great burden, Fratelli strode away, eager to depart. However, the archbishop called him back.

“What now?” he mumbled sharply, pausing in his tracks.

“Please, help me with one more thing? It’s extremely important,” Rodolfo pleaded.

Gazing at the side altar, where St. Joseph stood encased in white stone, Fratelli silently prayed, “Lord, grant me patience!”

Rodolfo’s next request surprised him:

“Please, good Cardinal Fratelli, teach me to preach.”

“How is it that you cannot preach?”

“Well, of course, I can say a sermon,” Rodolfo stammered, a bit shameful, “…but I don’t do very well. My flock, they get bored with my words. I know they aren’t really listening. And I also know you are famous for your preaching. So, while you’re here, I figured you can give me some pointers?”

“Pointers?”

“Yes, tell me what I can do better!”

Fratelli touched his chin, pondering. Then he asked:

“Well then, I’ll need an example of yours. Tell me a homily… perhaps preach upon Mark’s Gospel…let’s see- oh yes, chapter 6 verse 7?”

Rodolfo settled his thoughts for a few minutes. He at last, approached the altar, descended the steps, turned and spoke:

“Mark 6, verse 7… The calling of the Twelve Disciples: “And he called the twelve; and began to send them two and two, and gave them power over unclean spirits.”  Here Jesus calls his disciples…”

A long pause ensued. Fratelli gestured, as if saying: “go on.”

“And these disciples were important because it’s important for a teacher…um… a teacher needs to have students. Good students and not bad ones. Why? Because God loves good disciples…”

Frustrated, Fratelli waved for Rodolfo to stop. Silently, the cardinal wondered what thing he had done to deserve such insufferable annoyance.  Standing beside the profoundly embarrassed Rodolfo, Fratelli grabbed his hand, touched the ring, which adorned his thick knuckles and said:

 “I wasn’t going to suggest anything at first- but after hearing such words, I feel much obliged. By God’s grace, I simply cannot allow you to preach this badly!”

Releasing his hand, Fratelli then pointed back towards the high altar, at the golden tabernacle which housed the Body of Christ. Raptly, he fetched the book of Gospels that lay nearby, opened it to Mark, chapter 6 and read aloud their chosen verse. He bade the archbishop read it. When Rodolfo finished, Fratelli could barely contain his unrest as he lectured the poor man:

“Keep away from redundancy- unless you are posing a question and never answer a question that’s never been asked…and for goodness sake, never say “um…”!”

Rodolfo launched his sermon anew. It began nicely then faded into a sea of scattered “um’s” and aimless expressions. At this point, Fratelli paced below the pulpit, groaning and seriously considering if he should hit him with the Gospel book.

Chapter 10.

                        The Boat-Ride.          

Fratelli arrived back at the hotel, tiredly slumping. Mario faced him, widely smiling, holding his scarlet cloak and hat. Several servants flocked around.

                        “What now?” Fratelli asked.

            “Your Eminence, it’s going to be wonderful” Mario replied, “We’re having dinner on the ocean. The Primate lent us his sailboat!”

A man in a blue coat with shiny, golden buttons stepped forth. He had blue pants and a white hat, obviously a seaman of some sort. He bowed, kissing Fratelli’s ring.

                        “Your Eminence, let us take you for a boat ride,” he said.

            Before the word “okay” fell out of Fratelli’s mouth, they were leading him outside. He wrapped the cloak around his shoulders then stopped as Gianni caught up to him. The boy was grinning from ear to ear, absolutely delighted. He had never been on a boat before and Fratelli had only been in one once.

Soft wind blew over them, sending salty warmth as they reached the wide harbor. The whitewashed docks creaked underfoot and various boats bobbed up and down as waves slapped them. They stopped before a tall sailboat, its deep walnut wood sides gleamed in sunlight and white, canvas sails flapped idly in the wind. Fratelli paused and cautiously blessed the vessel before he’d dare step foot on it. The seaman graciously thanked him, bowed again then led them aboard. In an odd sort of procession, cooks and servers poured onto the boat. Gianni hungrily eyed their covered dishes. Mario and Jan came last. Sitting down, Fratelli could see the waves scattering sunlight into hues of green, pale blue and silvery-grey. He also felt them rocking the boat as it sailed from the harbor. He watched the land grow distant and shrink in his sight. However, he did not betray his stiffness, nor did he frown at the unnecessary attention he was receiving.

Jan got him a parasol and a pillow for his feet. Gianni himself enjoyed the attention. He smiled as Mario handed him a bright red ball.  The servers set stuffed clams, chicken and grapes before him. Fratelli stood and spoke:

“Thank you, O Lord, for this day and for these gifts of food and friendship. In your glorious name we pray for joy and length of life...”

 Swept up in his emotions, he began praying in Latin: “Gloria Patri, et Fillio et Spiritui Sancto…”

He suddenly grew frightened by the boat’s swaying, hurriedly waved in benediction then sat down. Clear skies eased his apprehension and chilled white wine. Resting his feet, he closed his eyes. Gianni watched the constantly shifting ocean. The humming sound of the waves crashing against the boat’s bow bored him. He stood up and bounced his ball. Finding it difficult to run on the moving vessel, he laughed. It was simply more entertainment. Coming to the back of the boat where Fratelli lounged, Gianni tossed the ball in his hand then threw it at the unwary cardinal.

“Catch!”

The ball whizzed past Fratelli’s head as his eyes fluttered open. It loudly smacked the back of his chair.

“Gianni, watch what you are doing!” he scolded.

The boy smirked and mischievously laughed. Upset, Cardinal Fratelli scowled, stood up and started chasing him. As Gianni rounded the deck of the boat, Fratelli pursued, hot on his heels. Then the boy swerved. Unable to slow down fast enough, Fratelli stumbled at the deck’s edge; wildly spread his arms and fell overboard! There was some shouting. Mario dashed out of the cabin at once and heroically dove after him.  Pulling himself back onto the boat, Fratelli shook Mario away.

“I will be alright…” he grumbled.

Gianni had stopped laughing. He eyed Fratelli with an ashamed expression. Jan laid a blanket around the soaked cardinal, removed his drenched cloak and tried to soothe him.

“I am fine already,” Fratelli said again, hugging the blanket tight.

There was silence.

“I’m so sorry…Your Eminence” Gianni finally stuttered, “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” Fratelli said, looking away towards the setting sun, feeling somewhat ashamed that his own temper had gotten the best of him. They were heading back to land. He would be dry soon and all would be forgotten.

A Vacation for Cardinal Fratelli, ch 7-8

Chapter 7

The Silent Mass.

Early next morning, just as Jan woke Gianni for breakfast, one hotel maid alerted him that a very distinguished person wanted to see Cardinal Fratelli; The Primate of Pisa, who basically functioned as the city’s main governor. Jan darted back upstairs. Knocking on Fratelli’s door he shouted, “Your Eminence, it’s time to get up…and the Primate of Pisa wishes to see you.”

No response.

Anxiously, Jan knocked again.

“And hurry!”

No sound came from the door’s other side. Gently opening it, Jan gazed about an empty room. He immediately descended and told the maid that the cardinal had gone missing.

“Well, his appointment is at 9 this morning…” she said, walking off nonchalantly.

Jan grew nervous. He snatched Gianni prematurely from breakfast and as the boy gobbled down a last muffin, searched through the long hallway. Returning to Fratelli’s room, he finally let Gianni go. The boy rubbed his aching hand and asked,

“Where is His Eminence?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out!” Jan replied.

Suddenly, he noticed that Fratelli’s red skullcap along with his cross and ring were missing from the nearby nightstand. He was gone, perhaps on an early stroll. Pointing a finger at Gianni, Jan instructed,
            “You stay here.”

Then he dashed off to find the cardinal.

Outside, sun streamed down brightly, mist curled around the ocean front. It felt unusually hot and damp so Jan removed his small hat. Mario was standing by the door. Approaching, he quickly said,

“Have you seen Cardinal Fratelli?”

“No,” Jan said, “You neither?”

Shifting his weight nervously, Mario replied, “No I went to fetch him this morning, he was gone. I’ve been looking around the hotel yard for him then I came out here.”

“How could he just disappear?” Jan cried throwing up his hands.

“Now, now, don’t panic,” Mario said in assurance, “He is probably strolling. Let’s go look.”

At once, they took off down the walkway, combing the beach-area and the shady palm trees. No sign of the cardinal anywhere. Jan really began feeling nervous. He stopped briefly, raising his hand to his mouth, nibbling a bit on his nails. Mario paused beside him but Jan was not to be consoled.

“We lost a cardinal!” he muttered, “A Prince of the Holy Church! Gone right from under our noses…God forbid…”

“Stop it,” Mario said sternly, “If you keep worrying like this, you’ll never find him. Maybe he went to the cathedral.”

“But that’s such a long way from here!”

He didn’t continue his protest but rather followed right on Mario’s heels as he paced down the road. Several carriages passed by and people strolled en route to their daily work.  Jan craned his neck, trying to see between them yet did so in vain. He tried not to think of what may happen if they didn’t find Fratelli, tried to put the horrible consequences far from his mind.

~ ~ ~

Waiting in Fratelli’s deserted room, Gianni walked back and forth. He sat on the bed, discovered the cardinal’s rosary and began playing with it. Then, growing bored, he set it down and left. How could they tell him to just stay there all day when a whole new town surrounded him, waiting to be explored! Gianni slunk downstairs, past the great lobby and walked out the door.

Humid air brushed against his face and he shed his heavy coat. Perhaps, it was perfect weather for swimming. Gianni went swimming yesterday and loved it. He loved the feel of the waves slapping his back and the water’s coolness.

Walking towards the moist sandy beach, Gianni heard a voices coming from behind a nearby tree.

“This is good Bruno, where did you get it?”

Another voice:

“Stole it from my papa- It will put hair on your chest Donny.”

The boys gathered behind the tree spotted Gianni several feet away. Bruno, who was the tallest, with short, black hair and dark, beady eyes, advanced asking:

“What are you doing here?”

Glancing up, Gianni answered:

“Just exploring…”

“You’re not from here are you?”

“No, I’m from Lucca.”

Suddenly, Bruno aggressively clutched at Gianni’s shirt collar and growled, “We don’t like out-of-towners, so get out of here.”

With that he shoved Gianni away. The others laughed as Gianni almost stumbled from the force. He recovered footing, angrily dusted himself off, made a sour face and prepared a good response. However, seeing the glaring boys, who were all older than him, he decided it best to flee.

Back the hotel, he pursed his lips, flushed angrily and sat in a chair with his arms folded. He would think of a way to show them…

~ ~ ~

Finally after a half hour, they reached the towering cathedral. It stood grey in morning light. Quietly, Mario stepped ahead and pried the huge, wooden door open. It creaked, causing him to cringe. Gingerly, they stepped inside the smoky, cool air, Jan trailing behind. Sure enough, Mario heard a small voice coming from the left. It spoke Latin. Off to the side altar, they saw a lean figure, wearing green vestments, with dark, curly hair. Jan moved forward, parting his lips to shout “Your Eminence!”

Only the word “Your-” escaped as Mario yanked him back and covered his mouth. Jan realized why. The cardinal was celebrating Mass. Facing the wall, deeply reverent and gently, he quietly lifted a small, round, white object in his hand as he muttered something inaudible. Seeing the Body of Christ right before him, Jan knelt on the ground. Mario remained standing and crossed himself. They patiently waited until the entire Mass was ended. Just as Fratelli turned around and faced them, Jan scrambled to him, shouting, “Your Eminence!”

Startled out of his deep pondering, suddenly jolted back to earth, Fratelli finally saw Jan running and shouting at him. He stopped short, put one finger over his mouth and replied,

            “Shhh…”

Grabbing the cardinal’s arm, Jan continued in a softer tone, “How could you just run off without telling anyone?”

“I was going to be back by noon,” Fratelli replied.

Then assuming an indignant stance, he added, “Perhaps I would like to go where I wish without be escorted everywhere?”

“But Your Eminence, the Primate of Pisa wanted to see you this morning. He is going to be so upset that you never showed.”

Fratelli suddenly touched his hand to his face,

“Merciful goodness!” he said, “How could I have forgotten!”

With that, he dashed past them. Still wearing vestments which flapped behind him, he hurried down the cathedral aisle and out the door.

“Let’s go” Mario remarked, “Before we lose him again.”

Fratelli paused at the cathedral’s steps. Gently, though hurrying much as he could, he removed his vestments then folded them in his hands and continued to run. The heavy cloth slowed him down and gasping from exertion, his pace dwindled to a brisk plod. Some people saw the cardinal crossing the street, vestments awkwardly lumped in his arms, panting and sweating. Most of them didn’t raise an eye but one man leaped to catch Fratelli, holding a square-shaped, scarlet hat in his hands.

“Your Eminence, you dropped this” he said, giving it to Fratelli.

“Oh, my biretta,” Fratelli muttered, seeing how dusty it was.

With his free hand, Fratelli took it, thanked the man and folded it also beneath his arm. This small intervention had given Mario enough time to catch up. Seeing Fratelli, he took the vestments and biretta from him.

“Why thank you,” the cardinal said, his voice raspy.

“Stay here,” Mario replied, “I’ll summon a carriage.”

 Chapter 8

Around Town.

Fratelli arrived at the primate’s palace in a frazzle. Standing within a large foyer, he tried to pat down his messy hair and stuffed it beneath his red zucchetto. When the primate entered, wearing a tailored, black suit with golden buttons and pressed, black pants, Fratelli straitened and let him bend to kiss his ring. Showing some frustration, the primate asked:

“Why did you keep me waiting so long?”

“I apologize,” Fratelli said, “I was saying Mass at the cathedral and its beauty…just drew me in.”

The primate’s rough laughter broke the tension. He gestured for Fratelli to sit down then sat in a wide chair across from him. A servant came forth with wine but Fratelli kindly asked for water. His throat was still very dry from running.

Soon breakfast arrived and they moved into a spacious dining room with pristine, white walls and lovely paintings. It was twice the size of Fratelli’s dining room. Gladly, Jan and Mario joined for breakfast. There were eggs, oysters, lemons, apples and pastry tarts. A nice, gold-flecked teapot sat at the table’s center.

As Fratelli sipped tea, the Primate spoke of Pisa, its ancientness and beauty then elaborated on the palace, his duties and the wonderful life there. He went on in long, proud sentences while Fratelli listened. He really couldn’t do anything else.

At noon, they finally arrived back at the hotel. Gianni met them in the lobby, “scolding” them for keeping him alone and bored. He did not tell of his unpleasant encounter with the other boys.

After Fratelli changed into his trousers, red-buttoned coat and hat, he decided to spend the day outside. Gianni felt unsure at first but looking to that place between the palms where the boys once stood, he saw they had left.

“Come, Gianni,” Fratelli said glancing over his shoulder, “We are going to enjoy some gelato.”

They had gelato, an ice-cream treat, in Lucca but Fratelli heard that Pisa’s variety was especially smooth and flavorful. He wanted to find out for himself. Hot sun beamed down on the cobbled streets, furthering their desire for something cold and sweet. At the end of a small, narrow block, children and adults alike thronged around the local gelato cart. Two teenaged girls laughed, seeing Gianni walk beside Fratelli but they turned back to finish their chocolate gelato, which melted quickly.

Mario stood far off, where he could survey Fratelli, leaning against a close wall. I suppose after this morning, they will never let me from their sight, Fratelli silently mused. He waited patiently in the line while Gianni continuously shifted and snorted impatiently. At last, they were in the front. Behind a rickety, old counter, a young man greeted them:

“Good day, what would you like?”

“Chocolate!” Gianni shouted.

Fratelli grinned then calmly said,

“Cherry.”

He paid and soon they held the cold reward in their hands. Gianni nearly drank the gelato down while Fratelli dabbed his with a spoon, taking small, fastidious bites. Carefully, he began walking and as a drip fell from his spoon, held it away from his garb. Just when Fratelli continued moving, a small boy meandered from his mother and bumped right into him. His tiny hand held a cup of chocolate gelato which happened to smear all over Fratelli’s shirt.

“Oh!” he gasped, drawing away, frantically searching for something to clean this horrible mess with.

The mother saw him, scolded her little boy and she kept apologizing over and over.

“Here,” she then said, grabbing a hand-cloth, “let me clean that for you.”

Fratelli stood, awkwardly grimacing as she wiped at his shirt, spreading the stain.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll go back and change,” he finally stated.

Grumbling under his breath, he darted away with rapt speed through the crowded people and towards the hotel. Approaching the lobby, Fratelli spotted a figure out of the corner of his eye, clad in purple. The Archbishop... probably waiting to see him. No, he couldn’t let him see him like this! Panicking, Fratelli strode away from the hotel towards the beach. There he knelt at the beach and tried washing the sticky gelato from his shirt. After some scrubbing and wringing, he emerged wet- but at least clean. Gianni snickered yet fell silent seeing a stern glare. Mario threw his cloak down onto the sand and sighing, Fratelli figured he’d rest on the beach and let sunlight dry him. Closing his eyes, trying to forget the awful incident, he started drifting asleep.

He woke staring straight into a pair of beady, crustacean eyes. A crab had wandered onto the cloak. It held its pinkish claws perilously close to Fratelli’s nose. Startled, Fratelli shrieked, jerked up and rose, grabbing the coat and beating it against the ground.

Mario came running.

“Your Eminence, what is wrong?”

“It’s a crab!” Fratelli shouted.

The thing finally fell off the cloak and scuttled away. Fratelli gladly watched it retreat across the sandbank.

The archbishop was gone by the time Fratelli returned. He felt somewhat grateful. Once upstairs, he changed into his regular, scarlet cassock and hung his other clothes from the window. Quickly, he sat by the window, gazed at the crescent-shaped moon and recited evening prayer. Then, he headed down for supper. Ironically, plates of steamed vegetables and pink crab-legs were laid out. He refrained from scowling- or perhaps even laughing. 

A Vacation for Cardinal Fratelli, ch. 5-6

Chapter 5.

Lovely Pisa

The train arrived in Pisa at about 2:00 noon. Fratelli was glad to set his feet on the ground as he stepped off the train and onto an ornate, platform. Gianni followed, stretching his legs awkwardly strutting like a rooster. Jan and Mario said nothing. They simply carried the cardinal’s bags, directing him into town.

This section of Pisa sat right next to the coast. Well within sight, the ocean’s crystal blue waters glittered and stretched endlessly towards the horizon. Gianni gaped.

“Ooohh…”

He then turned, yanking on Fratelli’s sleeve,

“Can I go swimming, please?” he begged.

“We’ll see. First we must be settled in,” Fratelli answered.

The cardinal strolled, ducking his head somewhat, trying look inconspicuous and failing because of his scarlet garb. Several people stopped, bowed and greeted him. One woman ran up to him, asking advice about her children. Gianni laughed, seeing Fratelli caught off guard, stumbling over his words. After the woman left, he quickly darted towards the palatial hotel, which was near the capitol hall and reserved for esteemed visitors. More people greeted him, some polite talk was exchanged and finally, Fratelli was lead to his room where immediately, he shooed Gianni away and shut the door behind him. Outside, Mario and Jan exchanged glances then shrugged. Gianni, seeing he couldn’t open the door, insisted on something to eat. It sounded just about right.

Sighing with profound relief, hearing no sound but faint birds’ chirping and tree limbs rusting in the wind, Fratelli sat down in a nice chair by the window. He felt all the weight of his ecclesiastical duties leaving him, slowly dripping away...Vacation… Sunshine flowed in, touching his face, bringing a smile.

“Thank you, O Lord,” he whispered.

Fratelli quietly unpacked and changed into a black suit accented with red buttons, black trousers, tall, red stockings and black shoes. When he emerged from his room, the others looked up from eating and Gianni gawked.

“You’re wearing pants!” he blurted out.

Fratelli laughed,

“Well, I am on vacation.”

He approached their dining table and sat for some time, eating some hearty soup, cheese, bread and rolled up prosciutto. Finishing with a small glass of sweet red wine, he glanced at the window, at bright sun beaming down and cheerful city buildings. Beneath the table, he shuffled his feet, anxious to get outside. Finally, Fratelli rose and set off down the hallway. Mario followed close behind. Gianni scampered after but Jan held him back.

“Want to go swimming?” he suggested, hoping to distract him

It worked, for the boy’s eyes lit up and a smile widened on his rosy lips.

“Yes, yes, let’s go!”

Grabbing Gianni’s bag, they left.

Hearing Mario’s soft footfalls behind him, Fratelli walked outside and squinted in bright sunlight. A fine Mediterranean breeze swept over him, cooling his head. Although Mario clutched a broad- rimmed, black hat with red cords, Fratelli didn’t feel any use for it. He enjoyed cool wind against his hair. Closing his eyes and smiling, Fratelli headed towards the coastline. People in large crowds gathered there, some children playing, lovers strolling hand-in-hand, families picnicking and groups of women swimming in long, white dresses. Best of all, they ignored Fratelli as he made his way through.

Deep green foam lapped the sandy shore ahead of him. Removing his shoes and carefully rolling down his socks, the cardinal carefully placed them on the sand well away from the water. He then walked forth, dipped one foot into the cold water as Mario distantly watched. He giggled boyishly then strolled bare foot on the wet sand. He dared not enter the water, making sure he remained dry from the ankles up. When this brief reverie had ended, Fratelli recovered his shoes and socks then put them back on. Appearing dignified as ever, he marched back between two palm trees where an iron-wrought bench waited and sat.

He watched the bustle around him. A small boy bumbled on the pathway, holding a red balloon in his hand. It bobbed upwards but did not escape that little, tightly clutched hand. His mother hurried behind him. Growing rather restless himself, Fratelli rose and began walking.

He covered about a mile before passing a second bench where several young ladies in summer dresses congregated. The one who stood closest to him idly twirled a pale, blue parasol. She called out to him as he passed.

            “Yes, do you need something?” Fratelli asked.

            She just laughed, smiling coquettishly, staring at him. He stared back, attentive to her dark eyelashes and vivid eyes…green like a ripe vine. Now, as he was staring, Fratelli didn’t realize he still walked. He swerved off the pathway and collided face-first into a palm tree! More laughing.

Utterly embarrassed at being distracted so badly- and easily, Fratelli darted away. Once far down the path, he took his hat from Mario and pulled it over his eyes, feeling somewhat ashamed. Certainly seeing Pisa’s grand cathedral would take his mind off of this…

A long walk from the beach, rested Pisa’s sprawling Piazza Dei Miracoli, called “The Square of Miracles”. It indeed looked miraculous, as something fashioned by the hand of God. Standing at the center, tall and casting a stout shadow, was the cathedral. Strangely, unlike every other cathedral, this one had its bell-tower standing separately off to the left. And unlike any other bell-tower, Fratelli had ever seen, this one leaned peculiarly, as if it were ready to come crashing down- yet stayed in place. This leaning tower reminded him almost of himself, stately, stern but a little off. Coming around to the cathedral’s front, he gazed up at its pearly, white façade. He realized then, he must go inside.

Chapter 6.

The Archbishop

Soft light bounced off the cathedral’s coffered ceiling as Fratelli strolled in, quietly, carefully, his footsteps making scarce a sound. Sheer beauty surrounded him. This cathedral appeared new while the one in Lucca seemed old and dusty. Fratelli had tried time and time again to remove that dustiness and by then, grew used to it. However, he couldn’t get used to these ornate and spotless surroundings. Approaching the high pulpit and the main altar, he held in his breath, afraid that should he breathe too hard, someone would rush upon him. But no one was even there.

Suddenly, Fratelli’s eyes fell to the left, on a small but elaborate side-altar hewn of pink marble and white porphyry. A thin ray of sun illuminated the face of St Joseph’s stone statue, beckoning Fratelli for a closer look. Such a kindly, paternal face…it was beautiful, the most beautiful altar he’d ever seen. He drew up to it and laid a hand on the cold, stone surface. Then immediately, he knelt.

“O Lord, I thank you for this silent time in your presence. Please strengthen me during this vacation…oh, and please forgive me for being distracted by that woman…I am sincerely sorry, having not guarding myself, for you created their eyes to be very beautiful. Why did you make them so beautiful? Well, Lord, I feel grateful that I am here in one piece. Thank you for this altar and if I may return the following morning, I would wish to say Mass here…”

Heavy footfalls interrupted his thoughts. Hastily, he concluded:
            “Holy Saint Joseph, custodian of the Most Holy Christ-child, please pray for me.”

Standing and tracing a cross over his chest, Fratelli faced a heavyset, grey-haired man. He had a small beard and wore draping, purple robes with a matching skullcap. A golden cross glittered around his neck.

“Well, you must be His Eminence, Cardinal Fratelli. Hello!” he said boisterously, opening his arms as if to embrace Fratelli.

When Fratelli awkwardly remained, frozen in place, the man put down his arms. He wondered about Fratelli’s lack of openness then stated:

“I am Rodolfo Fierri, the Archbishop of Pisa!”

Smiling, Fratelli let the archbishop embrace him and heartily pat his back, like a big brother would. Coughing, Fratelli withdrew, nervously folding his hands.

“I heard you were coming here to Pisa,” Rodolfo continued, “I knew it was you…I just knew it!”

Fratelli scratched his chin. Did the entire world know that he was on vacation?

“It is very pleasant to meet you as well, Your Excellency,” he then replied.

“Come, come, enough talk, let me show you around,” the archbishop exclaimed, putting one hand congenially on Fratelli’s shoulder.

Leisurely, they dallied about the vast cathedral, exploring this or that nook and cranny, this statue, that painting and of course, the wonderful side altars. As noon light began to fade, withdrawing from the windows, Rodolfo invited Fratelli inside his home to dine.

“I apologize, I must be back with my own company,” the cardinal said.

Rodolfo understood, nodding and smiling. Fratelli gave a respectful farewell then turned to leave. He suddenly stopped halfway down the cathedral’s long aisle and asked:

“If I could acquire a breviary for temporary use, it would be splendid.”

His voice echoed through the vaulted interior. He covered his mouth, not realizing how loudly it had carried. However, Rodolfo remained unperturbed, friendly as ever, grinning ear-to-ear. His reply resounded back:

“Of course, anything for you Cardinal Fratelli!”

~ ~ ~  

It was evening, around 5 O’clock when Fratelli returned to the palace hotel. Coming into his room, setting his borrowed breviary on a nearby stand, the first thing he heard was Gianni’s shrill exclamation:

“Wow, look at all this food!”

Indeed, the dining table was strewn with stewed clams in tomato sauce, crab-legs swimming in garlic butter and a roasted hen on a bed of bright, green vegetables. Two elegantly-clad servers waited for Fratelli and seeing him emerge, they bowed reverently, took his hat, and seated him. Gianni’s hand quivered, reaching for one of the crabs when Jan stopped him.

“You know we give the blessing first…” he said.

“Oh hurry- please hurry!” Gianni moaned.

Fratelli laughed, seeing the boy’s anticipation. He stood, lifted his hands and pronounced God’s blessing over the food. Soon as the word “amen” was spoken, Gianni descended upon the food like a starving fox. Fratelli winced, reminding him about good manners.

The fare tasted delightful, Fratelli acknowledged, biting into a piece of tender chicken. It nearly melted in his mouth. He also sampled all of the seafood and savored it. They drank dry white wine, which perfectly complimented the hearty flavor of the clams. Fratelli smiled. His vacation was finally beginning to feel like a vacation.