Recollections on a Rainy Day

             It is raining outside, a dreadful pour that blocks the streets. I hear carriages trot past but cannot see them and can't help but wonder if the roses are being well-watered. Unfortunately, the cold weather and my plentiful duties have long kept me from the garden. How I should love to walk there!

Folding my hands, I pretend ever so successfully that the thunder doesn't frighten me. My mind recalls a storm this bad, many years ago, when I was only nineteen years old, an ambitious seminarian, completing my 2^nd year. I had been staring out a cloister window, fascinated by heavy rain that beat upon the bottled glass. Glass back then was made from cheap, green bottles. From behind came Renaldo, who quickly shoved past me to peer out. Catching sight of a couple fleeing the waterlogged road, he pointed and laughed:

“Look how that pitiful man must go back for his wife! I’d maybe go back for my breviary…”

Soon, some four young men gathered there, pushing and shoving. They longed to see the couple but grey clouded everything. Leonardo, the oldest, straightened up and rather predictably, intoned a sharp C in his deep, tenor voice. Catching on, the others joined their eager youthful voices.  Between old, stone cloisters, rang a new song, trying to sound ancient- but altogether silly: the chant of the seminarians. That year, it went like this:

           When I was a young man, I dreamt my wedding day...

            But there was no bride in white.

            and it would last forever!

                       

            Oh my beloved is Chastity!

She won’t nag or ask for things.

            nor drag me from place to place!

          

         I’m a seminarian- soon to be ordained…

            Thomas Aquin my best man,

Blest Mary bears the ring.

            Poor Clare supplieth roses,

            and good Joseph, the rod breaks.

            On the day I’ll say forever!

            Oh, sweet chastity, she is my bride.

            Oh, sweet chastity, so free! 

            Celibacy but a small price to pay.

            Yes, a woman’s tempting, very nice.

            Her eyes and lips all made up nice,

            But on that day, I’ll swear forever.

           

            Of Latin our tongues are burdened,
              all day long: Amo, amas, amat.
              In principio Verbum erat!

               The Matin bells we ring,
              over the mountains, Te Deum sing,
            early, early, to the choir scurry!

            In cassock and surplice, 
             shew yourselves clean, alert
            and ready, like angels on the wing.

                In deep philosophy, our minds swim,
             at morn we ponder, St Ambrose
               and Augustin.
     
                 And at eventide, theology runs a race,
                  like hounds of heaven,
                 corrected over and over.

              Joy makes no dull boy,

            our tongues shall let loose:

            O sweet chastity, shall be my bride!

             

            Say, I’ll be a priest.

            Death comes for wives and children

but the altar’s always there…

Introibo ad altare Dei,

Io, io! ~the rest you know!

Now that I think back on it, this was a very frivolous song, made up by frivolous youth and "perfected" over the years- but perhaps containing several grains of truth? I am not sure. I must watch the rain a little longer and decide... 

Recent Happenings

I have noticed my relative scarcity of updates on this blog and I apologize. Let me tell you what has been going on in my life...oh yes... and at the cathedral.
We recently acquired a new priest, Father Bertone. He is native to Florence and used to more hustle and bustle than what Lucca offers. Though musically-inclined, he butts heads with Deacon Gregorius, who has more traditional tastes. During his third Mass, poor Father Bertone only needed hasten the tempo of "Aquae Babylonis" to get Gregorius in a ruffle!
A woman, named Priscilla, held her husband's funeral at the cathedral. After the requiem, I sat with her and offered condolences. In turn, she asked me permission to upkeep and straiten the sacristy, which has been rather disorganized of late. Last Sunday, maniples of all colors were laying around- except green ones. I admit it, we have trouble finding things... so I gave permission. Priscilla is very good at organizing. She makes sure that the correct maniple can always be found...even ensures they match my chasuble. However, the altar boys are uneasy around her.  Giuseppe, our oldest server, has developed a liking to her and follows her around, causing a ruckus among the other boys.
On August 15, I met with various clergy and discussed many things. After two hours of serious discourse, Dina served us the most-delicious, pepperoni calzone and red Moscatto wine. I'm ashamed to admit, we drank too much... Monsignor Barolo ended up singing the full overture from "Don Giovanni" while Father Simone fell asleep on the couch. Of course, this was where I wished to sleep. It didn't go over well... Arguments about who got there first, who had the biggest shoes and who took vows of obedience ensued. I'm not proud of this...

Next summer, I will be ordaining seven priests and three deacons. Very exciting! We also will be accepting four new seminarians. Please pray for our young men who seek priesthood- it's very important. Joyfully, I write this... not only does Giuseppe promise to become a priest (that is, if Priscilla doesn't marry him) but Dina's own adopted son, Gianni, has expressed wishes to enter seminary. How splendid!!

My, my, it has grown rather late. I suppose I shall write more when the proper time comes. Please know that everything is good here. The cathedral is vibrant as ever. Our boys' choir will be preparing for the season of Advent and three, young women are soon entering St. Martha's convent. There is really nothing more to say. I conclude with thanksgiving for the Lord's goodness! May He be praised forever, who has set the stars into place. May He be exalted above all, who has divided the sea. May glory be forever unto Him who has sent His Only Son for man's salvation!!

Story-time with Cardinal Fratelli, part 1

“Sua Eminenza!” cried a small, brown-haired boy, “Tell us a story!”

Holding back folds of red finery, Cardinal Fratelli paused. Several children rushed forth to meet him, one breaking past the attendant priest. He looked down and smiled but his silent thoughts were again broken by the crying voice,

“Please!”

“Alright, little Paolo, I shall tell you a story,” the cardinal agreed.

Instinctively, all the other children gathered around him, each asking for a story.

“I want to hear about the winter witch!”

 “Tell us about the gypsy tramp, the one that turns into a goat!”

A boy with blonde curls begged:

“No, tell us of the dueling prince of Florence!”

Another boy named Antonio easily pushed him out of the way.

“No that is stupid, let’s hear about the mean wolf!”

Being tall and 14 years old, Antonio was arguably just as mean as the wolf.

“Now, now… calm down,” assured Cardinal Fratelli, “There is time yet…”

 He searched for a proper place to sit and saw nothing but a stone railing. It was likely dirty and cold. He simply stood there, raised one hand and stroked his chin in amusement. The children sensed his thoughts and quieted. Six pairs of eyes stared expectantly. At last, clearing his throat, collecting himself, he began.

“Let me tell you about the statue that came to life… On a cold, blustery night, we gathered to say Vespers in the cathedral…”

“What’s Vespers?” blurted out the blonde boy.

Cardinal Fratelli, not irritated at all, answered, “Little Stefano; that is our evening time of prayer when we recite the psalms and ask for God’s protection.”

Antonio hissed and pinched Stefano- lest he dare ask another question and keep them waiting. After some minutes, things quieted again. Fratelli continued:

“How cold and stormy it was that night! The clouds wore cloaks of grey and rain danced about. After we finished our Vespers, one of the priests must have heard something and he gave me a fright. Jumping up and down, he said: “There’s a bat in the belltower! I saw it!”

 Now, I told him any bat would surely be gone by morning but he still seemed so frightened, asking what should happen if it flies into our windows at night.  

“If I catch it myself,” I said, “You shall have to dust and polish the high altar”

That altar had been dusty for a while…

Without an answer, I marched up into the dark bell tower holding nothing but a tiny candle. My light fell on this large grey face, open-mouthed, snout-nosed, garish and toothy. How I jumped! It was only a gargoyle, carved into the cathedral wall ever since olden times. I continued my away and kept searching for the bat. Suddenly a winged shadow flew overhead and I reached to grab it. Flapping wings brushed my hand- how dreadful! And worse so, it escaped! Swooping in a big circle, the bat dove out into the grey skies. Good, it is gone. Now came time to retire and sleep well. However this strange night would not end yet! When I passed the gargoyle again, I noticed an eerie black space where it once stood. Wasn't it just here? Where had it gone? Gargoyles don’t just get up and walk away, do they?

My terrified feet flew down the stairs and to the sanctuary where my bewildered priests stood. “The bat is gone, do not worry anymore,” I gasped. Then as I ran from the church, they followed, not asking a question. Early the next morning, almost compelled, I again climbed the bell tower and saw the grey gargoyle sitting there, wrinkling his nose and smiling as usual. Good, it was just an illusion, a trick of the eyes played at night. Or so I thought- for as I turned to climb back down, I heard a quiet voice lean over and whisper: “Make sure good Father dusts me off as well!”