My First Holy Lunching
And suddenly I’m being invited to lunch with the Monsignor and Father Max. My boss and his woman decide it was time.
Hmmm. Do I want to have lunch with Father Max? Let’s consider: My co-workers and I have been building Father Max’s suite on the second floor. It’s taken three weeks of labor. We have assembled all of his brand new oak furniture. We painted the apartment the color of his choice—bright yellow, isn’t that psychotic? We carried his new couch up the stairs. The parish pays for it, what does he care, my co-worker remarked.
And what’s my pay-off? After all of the hype, and preparation, who do I meet? This bored looking primate who doesn’t speak in complete sentences? Father Max is beyond unimpressive. The man is anti-impressive. I’m not feeling festive. No lunch for me.
My co-workers were smart. They went home early. I had to think fast. Oh, I have a toothache. I really did. I was going to the dentist after work. I can’t really eat anything, really. Yes, I said really twice. I just wanted to go to the church and sit in silence. Please. Please. Please let it go, I thought. Hell I almost prayed for it.
Oh that’s ok, we’ll order you something soft. Soup! One of them exclaimed. They both got excited. They stood there, smiling at me. I was cornered.
I was sent to pick up the lunch—and my fucking cup of soup—at the bar across the street. The Monsignor got a burger and fries with extra onions. He sat directly next to me. Now Father Max will lead us in prayer. Oh fuck! I went to a happy place. I told myself a joke.
Dear Lord…
What’s the difference between a Catholic Priest and a dead tree stump? What? About ten IQ points. Hahahahahaha. Thank you! I’ll be here all week. Tip your waitresses. They’re all pregnant…sorry… HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
…For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.
Oh, Amen. Shit, I missed it. Um, sorry.
The Monsignor bit away a third of his burger. I could smell the onion juice in the air. He leaned over to talk to me. Do you know that you smile very wide when you pray? I saw you. It was really quite inspiring.
Make that a five IQ point difference, you tree stump. No, I never realized, is that…
The Monsignor was done with me. He turned to Father Max. Max, did you know that Rose [woman of my boss] came over from Sicily on the Andrea Doria in June of 1956?
Max chewed his sandwich. Really?
The Monsignor turned back to me. Do you know why that’s significant?
Because the Andrea Doria sank in July of 1956, I said through a mouthful of soup. The table went silent. The Monsignor was beaming. That’s right! How did you know that?
Um, I’m a historian, I answered, my PhD program is in Modern Literature and Hist… He cut me off. Oh, that reminds me of a funny story about Father Simon….
How fucking boring. I thought about something else, anything else, I pulled quotes from your memory, just to ignore this bloated asshole.
So, Father Peter and Father Paul were blabby blabby blabby
“If Jesus had been killed twenty years ago, Catholic school children would be wearing little electric chairs around their necks instead of crosses.” – Lenny Bruce
…and Father Simon is a Saint…every one says so…bless him, Father. Bless him.
“I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.” –Mohandas Gandhi
..and then father Simon yelled ‘Get the hell out of my way! I can’t see the TV!’ Hahaha. I had heard so much about how saintly this man was, and when I met him, and introduced myself, he screamed at me. Hahaha. It was so funny.
Hee hee hee, the Monsignor chuckled, Father Simon does have a very good sense of humor.
What the fuck? My mind went haywire. Holy Fuck! It’s a dysfunctional family! Retreat! Happy place! Silence…
I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. – T.S. Eliot
I had to get out of there. I’m sorry, my dentist appointment, I have to go. I thanked them for a lovely lunch and hurried out the door.
These people are fucking crazy.
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January 25, 2010 at 2:53 pm
Put a nail in me, I’m hooked. A friend forwarded me this site, and I haven’t been able to stop reading. I am an alumna of an all-girls Catholic school in northern New Jersey (names aren’t important, they’re all the same) and grew up a devout Catholic. Now? Well, now, I am just someone who knows a little suttin’-suttin’ about the religion. Ya know what I’m sayin’??
I cringed reading this post. I can feel the tension build with every moment. I can see the people sitting at the table and can even smell the food. I have spent a lot of time in the rectory, and am glad to say I no longer sit through these torturous meals.
As a woman, these men show no respect. I was a lector, and they treated me as if I was blessed by the head honcho Himself to be able to even step foot on their glorious alter! My favorite would be their question before I read, “Do you need any help with the words, hunny?” I understand they were trying to help, and not make me look like an idiot in front of the entire congregation, but did they have to add the condescending “hunny?” The question was a ritual for them, even after I told them I knew about the pronunciation key in the front of the book. Their blatant disregard for your words does not surprise me at all – it is only their Word that matters.
I’ll pray for you
Anonymous Ex-Catholic School Girl