RSSMy First Holy Lunching
Mar 29
Cleaning God's Toilet Angry Lapsed Catholic Poems, Catholic Church, Cleaning God's Toilet No Comments
from Cleaning God’s Toilets: the True Story of an Atheist Writer Working as a Janitor in a Catholic Church
And suddenly I’m being invited to lunch with the Monsignor and Father Max. My boss and his woman decided it was time.
Hmmm. Do I want to have lunch with Father Max? Let’s consider:
My co-workers and I have been building Father Max’s suite on the second floor. It’s taken three weeks of labor.
We have assembled all of his brand new oak furniture. We painted the apartment the color of his choice—bright yellow, isn’t that psychotic?
We carried his new couch up the stairs.
The parish pays for it, what does he care, my co-worker remarked.
And what’s my pay-off? After all of the hype, and preparation, who do I meet? This bored looking primate who doesn’t speak in complete sentences?
Father Max is beyond unimpressive. The man is anti-impressive. I’m not feeling festive. No lunch for me, I decided.
My co-workers were smart. They went home early. I had to think fast. Oh, I have a toothache. I really did. I was going to the dentist after work. I can’t really eat anything, really. Yes, I said really twice. I just wanted to go to the church and sit in silence. Please. Please. Please let it go, I thought. Hell I almost prayed for it.
Oh that’s ok, we’ll order you something soft, my boss’s woman explained. Soup! My boss exclaimed.
They both got excited. They stood there, smiling at me. I was cornered. I was sent to pick up the lunch—and my fucking cup of soup—at the bar across the street.
The Monsignor got a burger and fries with extra onions. He sat directly next to me. Now Father Max will lead us in prayer, the Mosignor ordered.
Oh fuck, I thought. I went to a happy place. I told myself a joke.
Dear Lord, please bless this blah blah blah…
What’s the difference between a Catholic Priest and a dead tree stump? What? About ten IQ points. Hahahahahaha. Thank you! I’ll be here all week. Tip your waitresses. They’re all pregnant…and I’m not sorry… HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
…For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.
Shit, I missed it! Oh, Amen…sorry….
The Monsignor bit away a third of his burger. I could smell the onion juice in the air. He leaned over to talk to me with his oniony mouth. Do you know that you smile very wide when you pray? I saw you. It was really quite inspiring.
Make that a five IQ point difference, you tree stump asshole. No, I never realized, is that, I replied.
The Monsignor was done with me. He turned to Father Max. Max, did you know that Rose [woman of my boss] came over from Sicily on the Andrea Doria in June of 1956?
Max chewed his sandwich dumbly. Really? He started drinking his soda.
The Monsignor turned back to me. Do you know why that’s significant?
Because the Andrea Doria sank in July of 1956, I said through a mouthful of soup. The table went silent. The Monsignor was beaming. That’s right! How did you know that?
Um, I’m a historian, I answered, my PhD program is in Modern Literature and Hist… The Monsignor cut me off. Oh, that reminds me of a funny story about Father Simon….
How fucking boring. I thought about something else, anything else, I pulled quotes from your memory, just to ignore this bloated asshole.
So, Father Peter and Father Paul were blabbidy blabbidy blabbidy
Lenny Bruce said, “if Jesus had been killed twenty years ago, Catholic school children would be wearing little electric chairs around their necks instead of crosses.”
…and Father Simon is a Saint…every one says so…bless him, Father. Bless him.
Mohandas Gandhi said, “I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.”
..and then father Simon yelled ‘Get the hell out of my way! I can’t see the TV!’ Hahaha. I had heard so much about how saintly this man was, and when I met him, and introduced myself, he screamed at me. Hahaha. It was so funny.
Hee hee hee, the Monsignor chuckled, Father Simon does have a very good sense of humor.
What the fuck? My mind went haywire. Father Simon is an abusive asshole. Holy Fuck! This is a dysfunctional family! Retreat! Happy place! Silence…
I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. – T.S. Eliot
They were making me nervous. I had to get out of there. I’m sorry, my dentist appointment, I have to go. I thanked them for a lovely lunch and hurried out the door.
These people are fucking crazy.
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