"Purge the Evil" - a novel

by Bill Dunn

(Note: this is a work-in-progress attempt at writing a novel. Feedback, critiques, plot suggestions are more than welcomed.)
 

CHAPTER 14

St. Lawrence church was filled to overflowing for Luis “Jitterbug” Rivera’s funeral. The old, staid parish had never seen quite a mix of humanity at one time. Anna and her daughter Maria sat in the front pew, surrounded by relatives. About a dozen people from Anna’s deceased husband’s side of the family had flown in from Puerto Rico for the funeral to say good-bye to their nephew, cousin, and grandson. A couple of car-loads of loved ones from Anna’s side of the family drove to West Hartford from the Albany area.

Former members of the Conard High football and basketball teams of a few years earlier were congregated in one area toward the back of the church, looking somewhat like a gathering of guys from a jock fraternity. Most of these young men were enrolled at various colleges now and hadn’t seen much of their old friend and popular teammate in recent months. But all were greatly saddened at his murder and made a point of returning for the funeral. The rest of the building was filled with a diverse assortment of people, of all colors and styles and languages and fashions. It’s safe to say the old church building had never hosted a greater collection of tattoos and body piercing at one time.

Fr. Dan looked out at the vast throng as the Mass began and suspected that many of the people in attendance had not only been Jitterbug’s friends, but also his customers. He assumed they rarely set foot in churches, except possibly for the funerals of fellow drug abusers. Fr. Dan was torn between a desire to read them the riot act—rail against the evils of drugs and demand that they get their acts together—and a desire to show compassion and embrace them in unconditional love. What would Jesus do? Fr. Dan thought. When the Prince of Peace spent time with prostitutes and sinners, gluttons and drunkards, did He read them the riot act? No. And why not? Was it because He didn’t care about right and wrong? Was it because He was complacent regarding good and evil? Of course not. It was because He knew they had been hearing the riot act most of their lives, and if yet another religious preacher condemned them for their behavior, they’d surely move even further away from God. They needed to hear about God’s love and forgiveness first before hearing about God’s righteousness and justice.

A few moments later, when everyone sat down to listen to the first Scripture reading, Fr. Dan continued the little dialog he had begun with himself by thinking, Who were the people that Jesus did read the riot act to? Hypocritical religious professionals, that’s who. He looked down at his shoes and felt his face begin to flush. And I bet Jesus had some choice words for any Pharisee who preached purity but all-the-while was lusting after a good-looking widow in his congregation.

Fr. Dan had not seen much of Anna over the weekend, except briefly at the Sunday evening wake. She had been quite busy receiving the many out-of-town guests, accepting their condolences and catching up on other family news, all-the-while helping them find hotel accommodations and making sure they were well-fed and comfortable. It wasn’t until just before the funeral Mass that Fr. Dan had a chance to speak with Anna. He was worried about her. She was obviously becoming exhausted and seemed especially frail. He was genuinely concerned that she might faint at some point during this day. He also was genuinely concerned that in the coming days or weeks, when all the friends and relatives returned to their respective hometowns, Anna would be extremely lonely and sad, and come to the rectory for comfort. Fr. Dan knew that scenario could only lead to trouble.

The previous day, on Monday afternoon, Fr. Dan had met with his brother Mike to review the sermon notes. Fr. Dan welcomed the policeman’s point of view on how exactly to refer to Jitterbug’s life. He did not want to go to either extreme—describe Jitterbug as an innocent victim who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, or declare that he got was he deserved because of his lawless lifestyle. He wanted the homily to be honest and yet convey comfort and hope to the grieving loved ones, especially Anna.

Fr. Dan has another reason for meeting with his brother. He had been disturbed during their conversation on Friday when Mike mentioned Heaven and then quickly said, “I have no clue about that stuff.”

The more he had thought about that comment afterward, the angrier Fr. Dan had become. No clue about Heaven?! he thought incredulously, You’re my damn brother. You’ve been listening to my sermons for years. That’s my job, for crying out loud! To make sure everyone who hears me preach knows how to get to Heaven. If my own brother is clueless about the most important question facing mankind, then I’m a total failure as a priest.

Fr. Dan’s concern about his physical attraction to Anna was already making him question his effectiveness as a priest. Now with his own brother expressing ignorance about eternal salvation, his self-esteem was really taking a nosedive. All along he had planned to include a clear presentation of the basic Gospel message in his funeral homily: Jesus loves each and every one of us so much that He willingly gave up His life on the Cross to pay the price for our sins, and if we put our faith in Him we can receive the gift of eternal life in Heaven.

Fr. Dan knew that many people in attendance at funeral Masses never went to church otherwise. He figured funeral homilies were his best and only chance to reach some lost and hurting souls. Obviously during a Catholic Mass there would not be an “altar call,” like at one of those televised Billy Graham crusades or, for an example closer to home, the services conducted by Rev. Morton at the Faith Cathedral. “Different traditions seeking the same goal,” Fr. Dan often said when confronted by zealous Evangelicals who questioned the validity of Catholicism. But Fr. Dan did not pull any punches. He wanted to make sure everyone heard the Gospel message.

Now, to his chagrin, Fr. Dan had to admit that his own brother might be numbered among the lost and hurting, those people who did not know the Gospel. While reviewing his sermon notes with Mike, Fr. Dan made sure he covered the entire presentation, including faith in Christ, forgiveness of sins, eternal life in Heaven, and a call to repentance; and not just the parts where he tactfully dealt with Jitterbug’s lawless lifestyle. He insisted that his brother hear every word, even if under the guise of reviewing the notes.

During their meeting on Monday, Fr. Dan was surprised when Mike mentioned that rumors were swirling around town that Jitterbug’s murder might have been the work of a vigilante. Although Mike had concerns that the two recent murders did not fit the usual profile, he dismissed the vigilante talk as nonsense. “No. It’s a drug deal gone bad. Definitely,” he had declared.

As the funeral Mass finally came to a close, Fr. Dan realize he too was exhausted. In his estimation, the homily went fairly well. He could see in the eyes of many people, especially Anna, that his words were comforting and hopeful. He wasn’t quite as sure if the Gospel portion of his sermon, the call to faith and repentance, was as well-received. When he looked into the eyes of some of the more heavily tattooed and pierced young people, he saw either confusion or simply a blank, hollow stare. It’s almost as if they are from a different planet, he thought. These kids are in such emotional pain, it’s not that they don’t agree with the Gospel, it’s that they can’t even comprehend there could be a God who loves them unconditionally. The only love most of them know comes with numerous strings attached. “Do this for me and I’ll love you. Don’t do it, and I’ll dump you.” No wonder they take drugs to escape the pain.

Anna did not faint. But when the funeral parlor employees wheeled the casket down the aisle toward the front entrance of the church where the hearse waited, with Anna and her relatives solemnly walking behind, her knees buckled and she had to be propped up momentarily by her daughter on one arm and an uncle on the other. It was a painfully sad scene. Fr. Dan looked on, knowing that he still had to perform a service at the cemetery and then return to the church’s social hall for a reception afterward, and he thought that his knees also might buckle before it was all over.

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