Chapter 20

Gemma is now old enough to attend Sunday preschool in the basement of Most Pure Heart of Mary Church. For the first time in years, Tazia is free to lose herself in the service, led by Father Leon. Unlike Father Xavier in Chicago, he cares only about her spiritual life. Not having been to Confession since she became pregnant, Tazia cannot receive Communion. Yet, closing her eyes during the silent prayer that follows, she is so at peace that she lingers in communion with the Divine, not bothering to listen to the deacon’s recital of the week’s upcoming activities.

One windswept Sunday in February, Tazia and Gemma walk past the foundation and first-floor of a building under construction down the street from Heart of Mary. Only a week ago, the lot had been flat and empty. A handwritten sign says, “Home of Lighthouse on the Rock Apostolic Church.” The Pentecostals, housed in a small church across town, are moving to larger quarters here. During services, the deacon cuts short his remarks to announce a meeting about Lighthouse right after Mass. “Fueled by fanatical faith,” he spits, “they are burning through frozen ground to erect an alien temple upon our sacred land.” Father Leon squirms, but says nothing.

Sunday school hours are extended so parents can attend the meeting. The congregants on either side of Tazia encourage her to come. She declines, as eager to get home for a quiet meal with her daughter as she is to avoid their ugly words. Rushing downstairs to get Gemma, listening for the familiar sounds of bible stories, she instead hears “Goola, uba, michee, gooli.” The teacher is leading the children in a mockery of glossolalia. She wants to grab her daughter and run, but Gemma will grow up with the same prejudice as the other children if she doesn’t act. And so, Tazia decides to go to the meeting where perhaps, quietly, she can change one or two minds.

When Gemma hears she can stay later at Sunday school, she claps for joy.

“But,” Tazia adds, “you may not talk any more gibberish.” Her daughter sulks. “Why? It’s just a silly game.” Tazia searches for an explanation a three-year-old can understand. “It’s mean to make fun of others for being different. It’s nicer to include them, like when Mirlee Bee taught you to play leap frog.” Gemma considers, then asks, “Like when Pharaoh’s daughter was nice to Moses even though her father wanted to be mean to the Hebrews?” Tazia smiles. “Yes, exactly like that.”

The meeting is packed. Father Leon is nowhere in sight. The deacon stands up front. Tazia takes a seat in the back. “Why do they have to build here?” a man starts off.

“Because it’s right on the trolley line,” another answers. “Easy for poor folks to get to.”

“There’s plenty of land near the Negro district. That’s on the line too.”

“Lighthouse ain’t gonna stop. They already invested in the foundation and lower level.”

“Suppose we bought the land for them and reimbursed their costs so far. Heart of Mary ain’t rich but we got more than the Pentecostals. It’d be worth it to get them out of here.”

“I’m not spending a penny on godless folks.”

Tazia hears a chorus of “Amens,” including, for the first time, the voices of women.

“I say we burn them down,” shouts a man in the front row.

“I hear they dance naked. Fornicate too. Our kinfolk ain’t safe around them.”

“That nonsense they babble is the Devil himself speaking.” Men shake their fists, women fan themselves with hymnals. People stand and demand they destroy what Lighthouse has built.

Tazia is on her feet, unable to listen to more. She speaks calmly so as not to inflame them further. “This church is named for Mary, Blessed Mother, who was told there was no room at the inn. Do you propose to tell God’s creatures there’s no room for them here?”

A few people sit, but most stare, eyes ablaze and lips pursed. Tazia has no more words to answer their silence. Plans resume to burn down the new church the following Sunday.

Tazia slips downstairs. Her daughter is not happy about leaving early. “I’m not ready to go,” she says. Tazia pushes Gemma’s stiff arms into her coat sleeves. “I am.”

***

The following Sunday, Tazia goes to the old Lighthouse church across town instead of Heart of Mary. She takes Gemma with her. She doesn’t want her at Sunday school, but if she leaves her with the Wrights and tells the truth about why, they’ll try to talk her out of her mission. She arrives at Lighthouse early to speak to the pastor. Paint flakes litter the cracked path to the listing clapboard building. On either side are a livery and a barbershop, closed on the Sabbath, but obviously not busy during the week either. Tazia can understand why the Pentecostals want to move. Not that Heart of Mary is in a prosperous neighbourhood, but it is better kempt than this section of Topeka.

A sign states the name of the pastor, Alonzo Jesse Balter, times for Sunday and midweek services, and the words ALL ARE WELCOME TO BE BORN AGAIN IN THE FOURSQUARE GOSPEL. PRAISE JESUS THE HEALER. Gemma, already beginning to read, recognizes the “Gs,” “ALL,” and “JESUS.” She asks if they have Sunday school here too.

The service starts in forty-five minutes. Cautiously, Tazia pushes open the creaking door while Gemma peeks under her arm. Given the church’s gloomy exterior, it is surprisingly bright inside. Immediately, a man walks down the centre aisle from the altar and introduces himself as the pastor. He bends down to shake Gemma’s hand first before shaking Tazia’s.

“All God’s gifts are welcome at the Lighthouse. How may I help you?”

Tazia says she is there to help him, or so she hopes. “I belong to Heart of Mary,” she explains, “and they are not happy about having you as their neighbour.” She warns him of the plan to knock down, possibly even burn, Lighthouse after Mass that day.

To Tazia’s surprise, Alonzo Jesse Balter chuckles. “We’re known as the church of ‘good news,’ but I daresay even Christ Our Lord and Savior would not rejoice as such tidings. Please, come and sit.” He leads them to a pew at the front and extracts a small carved Baby Jesus from the pocket of his robe. Handing it to Gemma, he says, “I made it for my daughter. She likes me to hold it during the sermon, but I’m sure she’d want me to share with you while I speak with your mother.” Gemma busies herself wrapping the doll in her scarf and making up a lullaby.

Tazia apologizes for not coming during the week, but she could not miss work without arousing suspicion. She hopes the pastor can amass enough people today to defend Lighthouse. “If only prayer could turn Heart of Mary back,” she adds, “before they resort to violence.”

Pastor Balter thanks Tazia, regretful but not angry. “Hatred saddens me. Our religion has a tradition of being open to all, including Negroes, yet many are closed to us. Apparently you feel differently. Why do you suppose that is so?”

Tazia finds herself making excuses. “Catholics are good people, but what they don’t know scares them. Like you, we believe in the Light of God. Yet many live in the shadow of fear.”

“Praise the Lord who has granted you the gift of light,” declares Alonzo Jesse Balter.

If only that were true, Tazia thinks. With Gemma, she basks in light, but she also lives in the shadows, eluding Ayal. Next to her, Gemma sings a lullaby about scaring off goblins who want to steal the baby. How can Tazia enlighten others when she keeps her own child in the dark?

Pastor Balter tells her about another Pentecostal gift, the Word of Wisdom, whereby the Holy Spirit reveals how to solve a problem by applying scripture. “We will pray this morning for the Word of Wisdom that we may avoid violence.” He holds out both hands. “Will you join us?”

Gemma’s ears perk up, and when the pastor says children participate in the service along with parents, she begs to stay. Soon the hall overflows with people praying, singing, testifying. Tazia sees why they want a bigger church. Words bubble up; some speak English, others in tongues. In this context, it sounds like a real language. Gemma is enraptured. She asks Tazia’s permission to try. Her ear is uncanny, reproducing the musical sounds. “Mama, can I teach Mirlee Bee how to do it?” she asks. When Tazia says it is only allowed in the Pentecostal church, Gemma asks if they can bring Mirlee Bee next week. Tazia can’t bear to dim her excitement. “We’ll see,” she murmurs, hoping Gemma will forget, yet knowing how tenacious the child’s memory can be.

Except for words of welcome, Pastor Balter lets his congregants lead the service. Tazia prefers the orderly conduct of the Catholic Mass, yet the ecstasy of the Pentecostals draws her close to God too. Certainly Gemma pays more attention than she ever did at their church. After a healing rite, and rituals called “running the aisles” and “dancing the spirit,” everyone sits again for the pastor’s sermon. He sets it aside, however, and talks spontaneously to the upturned faces.

“God has presented us with a challenge. While we welcome Jesus into our hearts, those at Most Pure Heart of Mary do not welcome Lighthouse into their neighbourhood. They plan to take us down, by force or flame, this afternoon.” He asks them to kneel. “Let us pray for the Word of Wisdom to respond to this earthly threat according to the heavenly Father’s wishes.” Then he lays out a plan. With himself in the lead, the men will ride to the new church. They’ll carry no obvious weapons, only construction tools, to show they intend no harm. Women will stay behind with the children and continue to ask Jesus to send mercy and understanding into the Catholics’ hearts.

The women gather the children in the centre of the sanctuary. Men move toward the door. Tazia walks up to Pastor Balter. “I’m going too,” she says.

For the first time that day, he looks rattled. “It’s not safe. You belong here.”

“I belong with the people at Heart of Mary. My prayers are theirs. God willing, I can turn them around.” She failed last week but today’s service has renewed her resolve.

Belying his call to avoid violence, Pastor Balter says, “Sometimes words of prayer are not enough.” Tazia, remembering the battle in Negro town, responds, “Words can deter as much as threats. And some prayers are better uttered by women than by men.” Pastor Balter, anxious to leave, comes to a quick decision. “I can’t stop you, but you’ll have to get there on your own.”

“As soon as I leave my daughter with friends, I will meet you at Heart of Mary.” Tazia buttons their coats and heads for the door. Gemma turns back. “Thank you for letting me play with Baby Jesus,” she says, returning the doll to Pastor Balter. He lays his hand upon her head.

Once home, Tazia heads for the Wrights and asks if Gemma can spend the afternoon with them. “You mean I can stay here and play?” Gemma and Mirlee Bee hold their breath. Never before has Tazia allowed them to spend Sunday together; it is reserved for mother-daughter time.

Denton asks if something is wrong. Lula Mae sets out an extra plate while her eyes probe Tazia’s face for an explanation. Tazia speaks quickly. “I promised to do something at Heart of Mary and it would be easier if Gemma weren’t tagging along.” It skirts the truth, but it’s not a lie.

Lula Mae nudges Denton. “The Lord’s house is a good place to meet people.” He winks at his wife. “Now, woman, ain’t you glad she’s praying with the Catholics, not us Baptists?” Tazia blushes, thanks them for watching Gemma, and leaves. She can’t help it if they wait in vain to hear about a new man in her life. She races to the corner where the trolley has reached the end of the line and jumps aboard, just as the conductor turns it around and heads back to town.

***

In front of the new Lighthouse Church, two lines of men draw closer to each other. The Catholics from Heart of Mary wield clubs, axes, and unlit torches; the Pentecostals grip hammers and saws. Unsure where to stand, Tazia stops midway between them but off to the side, where afternoon shadows obscure her from view. The men’s voices get louder, shouting over the wind, until the pastor and deacon raise their hands for quiet, and address one another. Speaking first, the deacon says, “For thirty years, since 1883, Heart of Mary has dwelt peacefully in this neighbourhood. “

“The Lighthouse comes in peace too,” says Pastor Balter.

“In Beatitudes, Jesus says, ‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.’” The deacon jabs an accusatory finger. “You do not follow this teaching.”

Pastor Balter speaks softly. Everyone leans forward to hear. “The Holy Spirit preaches pacifism to us too. In the Sermon on Mount, He commands all to practice peace, not violence.”

Someone from Heart of Mary yells, “You want our country to fight the Germans. They’re our brethren, and that ain’t practicing peace.” The crowd surges forward, torches aloft.

Tazia smells sulphur, first one match, then another. Her head tells her to run but her feet move toward the men from her church. They step back, but keep their torches raised. “Does not Paul write that Christians shall do whatever is possible to live peaceably with all men?” she asks and is met with silence. She tries again, louder. “Where does the Bible say there is room for but one house of worship on earth? Is a church built of wood and stone, or the company of the faithful?”

The deacon thunders, “The Bible says there is but one way to worship Christ the Lord and it is not their way.” He throws a clod of frozen dirt at the pastor. Tazia is pushed aside as the two lines charge each other. Fleeing the cries and grunts, the heat and smoke of fire at her back, Tazia runs blindly toward the trolley stop. She longs for the peace of holding her child in her arms.

***

As soon as she enters the Wrights’ house, Tazia sees the consternation on their faces. “We heard there was trouble between Heart of Mary and Lighthouse.” Denton yanks her into the middle of the front room and Lula Mae pushes her toward the stove. Gemma stops playing with Mirlee Bee, her eyes suddenly wide with fright when she senses the fear in the grownups’ voices.

Tazia’s body floods with relief as well as warmth. “How did you hear about it?”

“Word gets around,” Lula Mae says. She and Denton exchange a look Tazia has seen before when Negroes are alert to the threat of violence. “You didn’t happen to have something to do with that, did you?” Lula Mae thrusts a cup of marrow broth into Tazia’s trembling hands.

Tazia raises it to her mouth. “I tried to convince them we were all people of peace, but ... ”

“A woman can’t sway men’s minds when they’re up to no good.” Lula Mae wraps an arm around Tazia’s slumped shoulders. Then she turns to Gemma and pulls her close too. “Your mama done tried to do a good thing.”

Gemma snuggles up to her mother. “Me and Mirlee Bee danced the spirit,” she whispers. Tazia strokes her hair. What good is faith, any faith, when it is overpowered by fear and anger?

***

The following day after work, Tazia asks Tapper’s son to drop her off in town, telling Denton she has to run an errand. He raises his eyebrows but says he and Lula Mae will feed Gemma supper. As soon as the wagon is out of sight, Tazia takes the trolley to Lighthouse Church.

Pastor Balter kneels in the unlit sanctuary. A white bandage around his head gleams in near-dark; his right arm is in a sling. Tazia lowers herself and they pray in silence. With his good arm, the pastor lifts her up and answers her unspoken question. “Burnt to the ground. We won’t rebuild. The livery owner next door wants to sell the property, so we’ll add on here instead.”

“Maybe you can try again in a few years. People change.” Tazia doesn’t believe her own words.

“The new church was our mistake,” the pastor says. “We got above ourselves. It wasn’t God telling us we needed a bigger space, it was us inflating our own importance. You were right when you said a church is its people, not a building.”

And yet, a beautiful building can also show one’s love for the Almighty. Tazia thinks of Italy’s magnificent cathedrals. Surely her God approves of those. Perhaps the deacon was right; the Catholic and Pentecostal religions are too divergent to ever come together.

The pastor turns toward Tazia, wincing in pain. “I haven’t thanked you for yesterday. You were very brave to help us.”

“I did it for my daughter as much as you,” she admits.

Pastor Balter nods. “That only adds to its importance. I still believe our religions are not so far apart. We share a faith in Jesus and His resurrection. If you are open to being born again, you and your daughter are welcome to join us at Lighthouse on the Rock.”

Tazia laughs. “Gemma would enjoy that.” She closes her eyes and steps through the ritual of the Mass, hears the Gloria, tastes the Communion wafer and wine on her tongue. I did it for my fellow Catholics too, she realizes. She is responsible for saving their souls as well as her own. She bows her head and prays. “Dear God, forgive me for abandoning my faith.” She knows she must return to Heart of Mary. She can run from people and cities, but not from God’s Holy Kingdom.

***

The following Sunday, when they board the trolley, Gemma asks whether they are going to “the play church or the dancing church.” Tazia says they’re going to Heart of Mary, their church.

“Why? I liked the other one.” Gemma’s kicks the empty seat in front of her.

“Because they do things differently at Lighthouse. It’s a good way, but it’s not our way.”

Gemma seems satisfied with this explanation, but she’s not done. “Mama, the father at that place ...” It takes Tazia a second to realize she means the pastor. “What’s his whole name?”

“Alonzo Jesse Balter.”

“Alonzo Jesse Balter,” Gemma repeats. “Mirlee Bee Wright, Lula Mae Wright,” she chants. “Do you have a name in the middle?”

Tazia is relieved the theological discussion is over but puzzled about where Gemma is headed. “Catherine,” she says. “I took it at Confirmation, after Saint Catherine of Siena. She lived over five hundred years ago, in Italy, and is the patron saint of firefighters.” Tazia catches her breath. Not until now has she connected her saint’s name with surviving the Triangle fire.

“Can I have another name in the middle of mine?” Gemma asks.

Tazia is relieved that this is all she wants. She says Gemma can choose a saint’s name when she gets confirmed, after she takes her first Communion. Gemma, happy with this answer, swings her legs back and forth. “Mama, is there a saint for children who don’t have fathers?”

Tazia stiffens. “The Church gives fathers to everyone. You have Father Leon.”

Gemma brightens. “Then I’m glad we go to Heart of Mary. If we went to Lighthouse, I would only have a pastor.” She is silent for a minute and Tazia, grateful, leans back in her seat again. Gemma, however, has one more question. “Is there a saint for mothers?”

“Yes, Monica, the mother of Saint Augustine. She was born fifteen hundred years ago, in a faraway place called Africa.”

Gemma, satisfied at last, squeezes Tazia’s hand. “When I get big, my whole name will be Gemma Monica Gatti.”