Father Joe.

And he rose above them, dark and sombre and brooding. His face, like fire, glowered at the throng in front of him.

“Why?” he raged at them. “Why does God allow you to remain here when you are unworthy of him?” The congregation sat in stunned silence. What had gotten in to him? Why had he suddenly changed? At first, when he had newly joined them he had been quiet and acquiescent. The perfect priest they had thought, won’t make things change. But here he was, staring down at them from the pulpit, his face red and the veins standing out on his neck fit to burst.

 

“What is wrong with you people? Don’t you understand anything? He was nearly crying now with frustration. “You are all selfish, ignorant people who surely do not deserve God’s mercy.” He shouted at them.

Some of the older, stiffer, congregation stood up and began to leave. “We don’t have to listen to this” they muttered amongst themselves, “He’s gone completely crazy”.

Fr. Joe, seeing them leave, threw down his sermon, knowing that his words were useless. “I give up” he yelled across the church at the backs of those leaving. “You’re not worth it”.

 

He ran down the wooden steps and into the sacristy, his hand on his heart, trying to stem the overwhelming anger and emotion he was feeling. “How can they be so evil?” he kept asking himself. “how could they do that and still come to church? Don’t they know anything about God? Do they care anything? He slumped down in his armchair without bothering to take off his vestments. “What was I thinking coming here to this God-forsaken place? Why did I think that I could achieve anything here?” He despaired. 

 

At that moment there was a tiny knock on the door, so quiet as to be nearly inaudible. He didn’t answer. A few moments later the door opened and a child’s head appeared around it.

“Father” the child said quietly, “Can I come in?” It was the Flaherty girl, recent arrival from the famine boats, one of the few in her family who had survived. They had been a poor family then and were a poor family still. They didn’t seem to have the capacity to be anything other than poor.

“What do you want child”? he asked in exasperation. “Can’t you see I am not in any position to…… he couldn’t finish the sentence. The girl came over to him, her eyes nervous but his anger not overwhelming  for her. She had seen too much to be frightened now.

“Father?” she asked quietly, “Are you alright?”

Father Joe could have wept. Her words cut through his anger and her concern for him touched his angry and tired heart.

“Indeed I am Roisin” he answered, “Just a little tired, that’s all”.

 

Roisin stood and looked deep into his eyes. For a moment Father Joe felt uncomfortable but shook it off. What on earth could this poor child know, that she could see inside of him? He stared back at her. Her look was wise and innocent, all at once and he couldn’t fathom it. He wanted to tell her everything that he felt, about how tired his soul was living here amongst these ignorant and superstitious people. People who no more knew God than the devil himself. He broke away from her penetrating gaze and looked down at his hands. She continued to stand in front of him, waiting.

“What is it you want child”? he asked, beginning to feel too uncomfortable now and really just wanting her to leave.

“My little brother, Father Joe” she said quietly, “Da sent me over…….”

“Oh God” he said “I’m so sorry. Just wait here until I get my things.”

 

 

 

 

He hurried around the room picking up his holy water, sash and prayer book. Guilt propelling him into action. He had completely forgotten about the little boy. His mother had recently died of puerpal fever having given birth to him not two weeks ago, leaving the father to look after this newborn babe, born in the free lands of the United States and now to be buried alongside his mother. Roisin, the only female survivor, had tried to be mother but at nine years old could only do so much.

 

Father Joe looked at the girl. She’s small for nine. He thought, But look how much she has gone through in recent years. He could have kicked himself. There were people in the world who truly needed him and there he was losing his temper with people he shouldn’t even be bothered with, people who didn’t care.

And am I any better? he asked himself. He felt thoroughly fed up with himself. But this was not the time for self recrimination. He needed to get to Roisin’s house and bless the child before it died.

 

Roisin had stood, patiently waiting for the priest. “Are you ready now father? She asked him “Can we go now?” She was worried about her baby brother, worried that if Father Joe didn’t get there on time that the baby would go to hell and he hadn’t done anything wrong yet, he was too young, so he didn’t deserve to go to hell for something he hadn’t done. That would just be wrong. 

 

“Yes I’m ready now child” he answered and he took her hand. Together they walked out into the dark and dreary, moonless night. It had been such a long day, such a long soul-less day. The cold winter wind made him clutch at his coat and he realised that the child had only a thin threadbare cardigan on. She must be freezing he thought and he took off his scarf and wrapped it around her like a shawl. She smiled up at him in surprise. “Thank you father” she said shyly. “No-one’s ever given me their scarf before”. She felt the fine wool with her pink hands, marvelling at its softness.

He felt completely humbled and incredibly guilty. What is it about this child that can make me feel so many things?  he wondered to himself but all he could say in return was, “You’re welcome child”.

 

They continued on down the two mile track that led to Roisin’s house. Father Joe tried to go as quickly as he could without going too fast so that Roisin wouldn’t fall behind. He was amazed by her. She was so small and so innocent and yet so wise and understanding. She never stumbled or complained just kept walking so she could get to her tiny brother before he died. She had seen so much death in her life. Her parents had left Co Clare because they could no longer pay the rent for their tiny hovel after the blight had destroyed her father’s potato crop two years in a row.

 

 

 

 

He had sold all their furniture and borrowed money so that he could pay for them to go to America but only he and his pregnant wife and Roisin herself had survived to make the trip. He decided then and there that he could wait no longer. It was now or never. So he bought the tickets and said goodbye to the graves of his dead sons and parents and they left Ireland’s shores forever.  He didn’t look back as they sailed out of Cork harbour. He was determined never to look back again.

 

And now, here they were, safe and sound in the new land, the land that promised work and abundance but that had never materialised. Now he had no wife, and no son again, and not much hope left either.

Father Joe thought about them and the hardships they had endured to get here. In comparison his life had been relatively easy. He had gone through his priest’s training, his mother having made sure that there was at least one priest in the house. However, she never thought he would leave her and become a missionary.

 

 ‘Sure weren’t there enough lost souls here in Ireland’ she would plead with him’.

It had angered him then because he knew she was being selfish. “There are enough priests in Ireland to attend to them” he had retorted and walked away while his mother collapsed crying in a heap “Oh lord what have I raised?” she cried to heaven “Only a son who doesn’t care for his only mother, after all I ever gave him. Sure didn’t I sacrifice everything for him?” she wailed.

 

Father Joe had walked away in disgust. He had known his mother would try and hold him back but he was determined and he knew what he wanted. America was a Godless country and there would be plenty of work for him to do there.

 

He hadn’t been prepared though for the absolute selfishness and narrow-mindedness of the people he would work with. A Godless lot to be sure he often thought. Perhaps his mother had been right after all.  But he would shake off that thought. He never wanted to return to Ireland, at least here he was free from English oppression. But, and he laughed at himself sometimes, there were as many English here as Irish, they just weren’t in control and that gave him a sense of freedom even if it was only in his head. At the end of the day their beliefs were just as bad, narrow-minded and superstitious, and that made life here just as hard as it had been at home in Ireland. It was just different.

 

They finally reached the house of Roisin’s father. There was a candle in the window but no firelight. Father Joe opened the wooden door of the house and saw Seanai sitting on a wooden kitchen chair, the candlelight flickering on his face and that of the bundle in his arms. Seani looked up as he heard the door open but didn’t move. His eyes were puffy and swollen from crying.

 “Father” he said “I’m glad you’ve come…….” He looked down again at the baby in his arms. Roisin ran in behind Father Joe and over to her father. She looked at the baby’s face and then up at her father.

“Is he ……?” but she couldn’t finish the sentence. She was so anxious.

“Not yet pet” he answered her tenderly “He’s not left us yet”. And tears began to pour down his face anew.

 

 

 

Father Joe had seen many deaths in his time but had never witnessed such tenderness and caring in all his time as a priest. He was overcome with emotion but knew that he had to stay strong. It was so important to these people that this tiny, two week old baby, be brought into the bosom of god’s protection. How, he thought, is it possible, that people with the least amount in their life can have the most heart?

He just couldn’t fathom it but was totally over awed by it. That moment changed his life forever.

 

He took out his holy water and baptised the baby, placing the sacred ribbon around its tiny shoulders. It was the first time he had truly felt the power of God’s love and it had taken 25 years of the priesthood and that one moment in this poor man’s home to truly understand it.  It was a lesson which was indelibly printed on his soul. A lesson he could never forget.

 

When he had finished he left the father and child  to their last remaining moments of the baby’s presence and went outside to get some firewood to build a fire. They need some warmth in there he thought to himself. It’s the least I can give them.

He brought an armful of logs in to the house and knelt in front of the fire. The tears began to pour down his face and he cried like he had never cried before. Roisin looked up at her father with concern, he smiled and nodded to her. 

“He’ll be alright now,” he said quietly. And looked back down into the baby’s face again. The colour was gone from his lips and no breath emerged from them, but still they stayed and held him.

 

 

Father Joe lit the fire then stole quietly out of the house wanting to leave them alone with their grief and not burden them with his. He felt racked and empty and yet there was something new in his heart that he had never felt before. As he walked back down the cold and dark laneway he tried to understand what the feeling was and then he knew. Gratitude. It was the feeling of gratitude.

 

 

“Oh my God” he said into the darkness, tears once again welling up in his eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so much for this lesson. Thank you for teaching me what true caring is all about. From now on,” he vowed, “I promise to treat every living being with the caring they deserve. Thank you so much for teaching me this lesson. And I promise too that I will try and teach this lesson to others rather than ranting and raving at them from the pulpit. I will show them what true caring is all about,” he promised.

 

He began to run down the lane, he ran with such joy and gratitude that he thought his heart would stop. But he didn’t care. He wanted everyone to know what this felt like. He had found his true vocation at last. Not an empty, idle-worded idea of love but the real thing and now that he had found it he would never lose it again.

 

Back at the cabin Roisin and her father carried the baby over to the fire and said their last farewells to the first of their family born in freedom. Then quietly Seanai placed the baby gently into a small wooden coffin. Roisin took off the scarf that father Joe had given to her and she wrapped the baby up in it. “Its nice and soft “ she said to the baby “It’ll keep you warm”.

 

 

 

Seanai’s heart hurt when he heard her. The poor child,  he thought. She has lost so much and still she gives. He felt very proud of her in that moment and vowed that she would have a good life here in America, no matter what he had to do to give it to her.

 

They stood for a little time together, looking at the small coffin, then they placed the candle on top of the lid and, touching the coffin gently they walked away to sleep. In the morning they would have to bury the child but at least he would be beside his mother. Safe, Roisin thought. He’s safe now. And she too fell into the arms of sleep, to forget for a short time, all that had happened in her short life so far.

 

Father Joe lay on his bed in the dark staring up at a ceiling that was too dark to actually see. It had been the longest day of his life but one he would never forget as long as he lived. Tomorrow he would go over to the Seanai’s house and help to bury the baby. He wanted to give them back something he had received from them. He also wanted to spend more time in the company of the two people who had taught him so much and to whom he was so grateful. A new life was opening up for him and he wanted to share it with them. They deserved it,  he thought. Of all people they truly do deserve it . And with that thought he fell into a sound and healing sleep and dreamt of all the ways he could pay them back.

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Legion]

Great piece here. Very touching. One question though (and I might have missed it) - who is "Mam" and why did she send the girl? I'd also like to know more about why the congregation upset Father Joe so much.