yourself, Fante.”
“Certainly, Father. But…”
“Don’t argue with me, boy. You think I just come over on the ferry from Hoboken?”
I didn’t want to argue with anybody. Looking at Joyce, I saw that she was caught up in the fervor of FatherJohn’s vague admonition. At that moment she didn’t approve of me at all. Neither did Papa, who sat before a bottle of wine, wetting his lips and nodding sagely at the priest’s words.
Father John smacked his mighty hands together, rubbed them hard, and said, “Well, let’s get down to business. Fante, your wife intends to join the Holy Roman Catholic Church. Any objections?”
“No objections, Father.”
And that was the simple truth. There could be no objections. I might wish it otherwise, I might hope that she postpone her desire for a while, but that was something else again.
“And what about you? Your father here, this great and wonderful man, tells me that he sweated and toiled to give you a fine Catholic education. But now you read books, and, if you please, you write books. Just what do you have against us, Fante? You must be very brilliant indeed. Tell me all about it. I’m listening.”
“I don’t have anything against the Church, Father. It’s just that I want to think…”
“Ah, so that’s it! The infallibility of the Holy Father. So you want to know if the Bishop of Rome is really infallible in matters of faith and morals. Fante, I shall clear that up for you at once: he is. Now, what else is bothering you?”
I crossed to Papa, took his bottle, and swigged from it. Father John’s sudden attack had me rocking on my heels, and I had to get matters quiet in my mind.
‘You see, Father. The Blessed Virgin Mary…” “I’ll tell you about the Blessed Virgin Mary, Fante. I’ll let you have it straight, without equivocation. Mary,the Mother of God, was conceived without sin, and upon her death ascended into heaven. Surely a man of your intelligence can understand that.”
“Yes, Father. I will accept that for the moment. But in the mass, at the consecration…”
“At the consecration, the bread and wine is changed into the body and blood of Christ. What else is eating you?”
“Well, Father. When a man goes to confession…”
“Christ gave his priests the power to forgive sins when he said, ‘Receive ye the Holy Ghost. Whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose sins you shall retain, they are retained.’ It’s right there in the New Testament. Read it yourself.”
“I understand the words, Father. But in the doctrine of original sin…”
“Ho! So that’s it! By original sin we mean that as children of our first parents we are conceived in sin and remain so until the glorious sacrament of baptism.”
“Yes, Father. I know. But the resurrection…”
“The resurrection? For heaven’s sake, Fante, that’s simple enough. Christ our Lord was crucified, and then rose from the dead, which is the promise of immortality for all of his children. Or do you choose to die like a dog, consigned forever to oblivion?”
I sighed and sat down. There was nothing more to say. Papa cleared his throat, a small smile on his lips, as he raised the bottle. There was a curious warmth to his eyes. Ash from his cigar fell in gray disorder across his lap.
“The kid reads too much, Father. I been telling him for years.”
So it was “the kid” now.
“But I like to read, Papa. It’s part of my trade.”
“It’s them books, Father. Birth control, he told me himself.”
“Birth control?” Father John smiled sadly as he shook his head. “I’ll tell you about birth control in the Catholic Church. There ain’t any.”
“I told him, Father. I said, 1 don’t like that stuff.’ It’s not the girl’s fault, Father. She’s a Protestant. She don’t know no better. But him: he told me. 1 like to control my family,’ he told me that, coupla days ago. Me, his own father.”
“I did say something like that,” I
“Certainly, Father. But…”
“Don’t argue with me, boy. You think I just come over on the ferry from Hoboken?”
I didn’t want to argue with anybody. Looking at Joyce, I saw that she was caught up in the fervor of FatherJohn’s vague admonition. At that moment she didn’t approve of me at all. Neither did Papa, who sat before a bottle of wine, wetting his lips and nodding sagely at the priest’s words.
Father John smacked his mighty hands together, rubbed them hard, and said, “Well, let’s get down to business. Fante, your wife intends to join the Holy Roman Catholic Church. Any objections?”
“No objections, Father.”
And that was the simple truth. There could be no objections. I might wish it otherwise, I might hope that she postpone her desire for a while, but that was something else again.
“And what about you? Your father here, this great and wonderful man, tells me that he sweated and toiled to give you a fine Catholic education. But now you read books, and, if you please, you write books. Just what do you have against us, Fante? You must be very brilliant indeed. Tell me all about it. I’m listening.”
“I don’t have anything against the Church, Father. It’s just that I want to think…”
“Ah, so that’s it! The infallibility of the Holy Father. So you want to know if the Bishop of Rome is really infallible in matters of faith and morals. Fante, I shall clear that up for you at once: he is. Now, what else is bothering you?”
I crossed to Papa, took his bottle, and swigged from it. Father John’s sudden attack had me rocking on my heels, and I had to get matters quiet in my mind.
‘You see, Father. The Blessed Virgin Mary…” “I’ll tell you about the Blessed Virgin Mary, Fante. I’ll let you have it straight, without equivocation. Mary,the Mother of God, was conceived without sin, and upon her death ascended into heaven. Surely a man of your intelligence can understand that.”
“Yes, Father. I will accept that for the moment. But in the mass, at the consecration…”
“At the consecration, the bread and wine is changed into the body and blood of Christ. What else is eating you?”
“Well, Father. When a man goes to confession…”
“Christ gave his priests the power to forgive sins when he said, ‘Receive ye the Holy Ghost. Whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose sins you shall retain, they are retained.’ It’s right there in the New Testament. Read it yourself.”
“I understand the words, Father. But in the doctrine of original sin…”
“Ho! So that’s it! By original sin we mean that as children of our first parents we are conceived in sin and remain so until the glorious sacrament of baptism.”
“Yes, Father. I know. But the resurrection…”
“The resurrection? For heaven’s sake, Fante, that’s simple enough. Christ our Lord was crucified, and then rose from the dead, which is the promise of immortality for all of his children. Or do you choose to die like a dog, consigned forever to oblivion?”
I sighed and sat down. There was nothing more to say. Papa cleared his throat, a small smile on his lips, as he raised the bottle. There was a curious warmth to his eyes. Ash from his cigar fell in gray disorder across his lap.
“The kid reads too much, Father. I been telling him for years.”
So it was “the kid” now.
“But I like to read, Papa. It’s part of my trade.”
“It’s them books, Father. Birth control, he told me himself.”
“Birth control?” Father John smiled sadly as he shook his head. “I’ll tell you about birth control in the Catholic Church. There ain’t any.”
“I told him, Father. I said, 1 don’t like that stuff.’ It’s not the girl’s fault, Father. She’s a Protestant. She don’t know no better. But him: he told me. 1 like to control my family,’ he told me that, coupla days ago. Me, his own father.”
“I did say something like that,” I
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