We head off to church on Sunday, hoping that somehow things may have blown over. Even as we walk through the front gate of the church, all eyes are upon us. We hear the murmurs as we pass by. I say hello to several people, but no one replies.
‘Word has spread,’ Gracie whispers to me.
‘Be strong,’ I say to her. ‘We have a right to be here.’
Mikey asks me, ‘Why are they all staring at us, Dad?’
‘They’re happy to see us,’ I reply.
We go inside and sit in our usual pew, three rows back on the right. Everyone files in behind us, but no one sits in our pew. I look at Gracie and notice she has tears in her eyes.
‘We’re not leaving, Gracie,’ I whisper to her.
With that, Father Donnelly comes out and the mass begins. I’m struck by how old he suddenly looks. He’s a broken man. I hear several people gasp. I stare at him, but he avoids me and never looks at any of us. I glance at Maud Percy who’s sitting in her usual perch. She turns away.
Gutless old bitch, I think to myself. You’re not bringing me or my family down.
Mass proceeds without incident until the sermon. Father Donnelly mounts the pulpit as if he is God looking down on us mortals. He glares in our direction, although his usually strident voice is now frail. I’m thinking that he’ll say something soon, and I brace myself for it. In spite of his appearance, he still manages to puff himself up and launch into a fire-and-brimstone lecture about how those who don’t follow the laws of the Church are condemned.
‘The weak will be swayed by the evils of the society around them,’ he pronounces. He doesn’t mention my name: he’s staring straight at me so he doesn’t need to. Then, to add grist to the mill, he goes on and on about the supremacy of law of the Church above all else, the law of the country included. I’m thinking, he’d be tried for sedition elsewhere. Countries and governments may fall, but the Church remains. He adds that those who uphold a country’s law, rather than the Church’s law, cannot be trusted to be good Catholics. Then he goes on and on about the sanctity of life.
It’s just a repeat of what he has already said to me a thousand times before. I stifle a yawn.
The congregation seems to be concentrating on us. I reckon they’re placing bets on who’s going to crack under the pressure, but I know it won’t be me. I hang on to Gracie’s hand. Her head drops and a tear escapes. Donnelly’s an ogre. Seeing her tears makes me want to go up there and drag him out of the pulpit, and tell the world about his hypocrisy, but I know this congregation has no appetite for the truth. Christianity is about forgiveness and tolerance, not this.
Gracie tugs on my sleeve and tries to stand up, but I pull her down again. I hiss, ‘We’re not leaving. We’ve done nothing wrong.’
Donnelly finishes up. He says he’ll keep the announcements until the end, and then he prepares the Eucharist. Gracie begs me to leave again, but I refuse again.
Maud Percy’s looking at us smugly.
The preparation finishes and the congregation lines up to receive communion. Gracie and Mikey go ahead of me. They receive communion but when I go up to receive the wafer, Donnelly hisses at me to move on. I stand there until he repeats it. Using all of my strength not to explode, I cross myself and say Amen, before I return to my seat. I can hear the sniggering as I pass by.
Everyone settles back into their pews and Donnelly resumes his spot at the lectern. He apparently hasn’t finished with us yet, and I wonder what’s still to come.
He clears his throat. ‘The ladies have organised a cake stall to raise funds so we can send parcels to our boys overseas. It’s to be held in a fortnight.’
Hardly earth-shattering, but Gracie’s miffed that she wasn’t asked.
He adjusts his spectacles. ‘I have news to share with you,’ he begins, ‘the most wonderful news which, I know, many of you will find uplifting.’ He clears his throat again. ‘I met with the Bishop last week, and we had a very long discussion. He wanted to pass on his delight with the progress that I, as your priest, and you, as my congregation, have made over the ten years that I have led this parish and tended to your pastoral care. Just as the Lord was to his disciples, I am your good and loving shepherd.’
I look about at the faces that surround us. He’s got that right: they’re a flock of sheep. I don’t think much of sheep.
‘My meeting with the Bishop was most illuminating. He told me of the exciting opportunity he had planned for me. Sadly, it is an opportunity I shall be unable to share with you good folk of Wangamba. Like our Lord’s ascension on high, I am unable to take you with me. Where I go, you may not follow.
‘The Bishop has placed a challenge before me, unequal to any that has gone before, to minister to flocks who may not have heard the Word. Like Dr Livingstone on his mission, I am shortly to depart this parish to lead the church in Halls Creek. It is a challenge I look forward to, since the natives who reside there need a firm and steady hand. Such is my reputation, that I alone was candidate for this mission.
‘Do not despair, dear folk, at my leaving, but delight in the opportunities that await me, as I myself am delighted. Although, I can only imagine that in evil hearts the exultation at my departure may be great, I warn such people to beware of their transgressions, since the fires of hell are unrelenting.’
I’m sure I hear a snuffle, followed by Maud Percy’s voice crying, ‘Hear, hear!’
‘Do not be saddened; another priest shall be given to you, to lead you onwards on your journey, which I may not share. I shall think back on my days in this parish with affection. Except for those few (and they know who they are), I bless you and pray for you. For the others, I pray that the scales may soon fall from their eyes. Repent, and the treasures of heaven shall be shared, even with you.’
I can feel their eyes boring holes in my back. Bloody hypocrites.
At last he bids us farewell, and urges us to remain steadfast in our faith. ‘Till we meet again on earth,’ he says, ‘or in glorious paradise.’
I swallow a laugh. Good bloody riddance, I say to myself.