Chapter
One
The Wine
The Wine
I sought in mine heart to give
myself unto wine, yet acquainting mine heart with wisdom. -- Ecclesiastes 2:3
In the
early nineteenth century a beautiful church was erected to honor Saint Jerome
in downtown Holyoke. Aside from ministering
to the regular needs of its congregation--marriages, funerals, baptisms and
guidance in daily life--it also served the community at large in the capacity
of emergency shelter and soup kitchen.
Thus was it both spiritual fortress and neighborly social place.
Because
of its proximity to the heart of the city, and that several days a week free
dinner was offered to all who wished to eat; and because the stomach so
influences world affairs, there were always at least a couple of people milling
around the doorway outside the rectory.
These were mostly street folk, among whom were a fair number of winos,
one of which was a particularly good natured man named Chet.
He
could have been an old thirty or young fifty as far as one might have guessed
his age, and he was so fastidious about his fashion that but for his greasy
hair, grizzled beard and ever present brown bag in hand, any passerby could as
easily have mistaken him for student, professor or banker.
Having
lived all his life in Holyoke, he knew it in and out like the knuckles on his
hands; and having passed so many hours of so many days and nights imbibing
there on the steps of Saint Jerome’s, his discovery of the sacrament of the
Eucharist was inevitable. He made it one
lazy summer evening when both his flask and pockets were empty, and not being
one to pass up free wine, went in ostensibly to worship. He patiently listened to the sermon on Daniel
and the lions, enjoyed the story, and never forgot it, but all the time was
anxious for the part of the mass for which he truly had come, and smiled with
delight when at last it was announced.
But the moment he was in line between the pews he was overcome by the
hundred imagined pairs of staring eyes, and bowed his head not in prayer, but
in shame. He immediately regretted
setting foot where he felt he didn’t belong, and wanted to vanish in that
instant; but was immobilized by his own self-consciousness, while the line slowly
inched him closer to the priests.
Finally
he was next, and the distance between he and the father seemed an impassable
gulf, as though they gazed at one another from adjacent mountain peaks. He was giddy with trepidation as he warily crossed
the red carpet. Then he noticed the
other priest refilling the holy chalice with wine, and suddenly could have
reached his end in a single leap of the heart.
He restrained himself, yet nonetheless completed the last few steps with
great confidence, and muttered within himself--yeah, yeah, yeah, let’s on with
it!--as the wafer was placed on his tongue and blessed as transubstantiated
into the body of Christ.
He
hastened on to receive his share of the blood, and as the rim of the vessel was
pressed to his lips, softly inquired:
“How much should I take?”
“As
much as you feel the need,” came the whispered reply.
Thereupon
he took a deep draught of the rich, golden wine, and as the glowing warmth
flowed through him head to groin, filling him with exhilaration, he grasped the
bottom of the cup, and without inhibition tipped the rest into his mouth. He returned to his pew under the dismayed
gaze of all who had seen him drink so copiously, and passed the rest of the
service in distraction, relishing the incredible feeling that no other wine had
ever filled him with before. From that
day he was hooked, and began looking forward to the communion rite with the
same childish anticipation that his mates greeted the approach of check day.
For
many months he kept the sacrament wine a secret from his friends; and though
there were many times he wanted to ‘spill the beans’ when he had to slip away
from them abruptly without explaining where nor why, he maintained his secret
mostly from fear of their ridicule.
Moreover, every time the wine was actually on his tongue, he was seized
with the urge to return to the end of the line for a second sip from the
chalice, which temptation he resisted for fear of public scorn.
His
secret was revealed and the temptation triumphant in a fell swoop one brittle
autumn evening. Chet hadn’t tasted a
drop of any wine in three days, and was in desperate need of its warming
virtue, and fired by the vision of his reward for sitting through a sermon,
entered the church openly, and after announcing to his friends that he was
about to have a taste of the top
shelf wine ever fermented. They watched
him go in wonderment; he proceeded to seat himself in the center of the first
pew, where he patiently drifted in a reverie during the sermon on Paul’s
scriptures of love. When that was
finished and the time for receiving the sacrament finally come, he was on his
knee at the altar to receive his wafer before the rest of the congregation had
even begun to form a line. He swallowed
it whole and hurried onward to the cup, which, having been freshly filled by
Father Brian, afforded him a long and satisfying drink of the hot, golden
blood. He craned back his neck and
rolled his head, staring at the majestic ceiling while enjoying the dizzy
ecstasy that spread from his heart to the ends of his fingers and toes, and
even into his hairs. Then the elderly man
who was next snapped him out of it with a nudge, and driven by Father Brian’s
hard eyes, Chet hurried away.
He
passed right by his pew with purpose, and positioned himself squarely at the
end of the file, to proceed directly for a second taste of the body and blood
of Christ. As it happened, there was
precisely one wafer in the bowl for each mouth in the congregation, so that the
last was served to the young girl just before him. This was all the better for Chet, who was
glad to bypass the superfluity and cut straight to the cup.
He bent
his knees, and Father Brian looked down, gave him a quizzical look, and pausing
the cup inches from his lips, softly said:
“Haven’t you already taken the sacrament this evening?”
“Yes
Father, I have,” was his rehearsed, mechanical reply; “but I have sinned so
horribly this month that I need a second cleansing.” Like Napoleon crowning himself emperor, Chet
promptly tipped up the holy vessel and emptied all the remaining wine into his
throat, moaning: “Aaaah...”
“Ahem!”
“What’s
the matter?” Chet replied innocently, gazing up at the priest with wide eyes.
The
priest casually set the cup down and sternly whispered: “Your behavior seems most inappropriate at
the moment.”
“What? Taking the sacrament?”
“Twice.”
“But
Father,” he said suavely, “if you know what I’ve been doing and with whom,
you’d understand how desperately I need His blood at this time in my life. My recent sins are immense.”
“I know
you,” Father Brian answered, slightly raising his voice, though it was still
hushed. Then he shrugged away the stares
of the other church officials, and ignored those of the members of the
congregation, all of whom were ready and waiting to move on to the benediction. “I’ve seen you many times on the steps of
this church with a bag in your hand, and I’ve noticed that you only come to
worship on the days the sacrament is offered.
I’m not one who claims to have the power to read the hearts of other
men, but I can make an educated guess....”
Chet
felt like a cornered animal, but having sensed a hesitation, seized the moment
to take the offensive. “Good Father! Are
you doubting my intentions?”
Father
Brian paused to contemplate for a moment, then responded: “Only you and God know what they are, while I
know only what I can see, which is often wrong, but it is written in scripture
that drunkards are among the unholy who shall not attain the kingdom of heaven,
excess of wine being one of the worldly desires that sets the flesh against the
Spirit. That is the word of God written in the book on which I, and my fellow
priests, and all our brethren here base our beliefs, which book also says that
our works testify of themselves. And
that is my answer to you.”
“Well
Father, here’s my answer to that,” he replied.
“I’ve learned a little about that book in these past few months I’ve
been coming to Saint Jerome’s to take the sacrament. To what did Christ change the water at the
wedding in Cana ? Was it orange juice? Chamomile tea? Castor oil?
Beer? No! It was wine!
Very fine wine! In fact, as I
recall, a better wine than the host was serving to his guests before he ran out
and called on Jesus in the first place!
And what was the affect of that wine Jesus made by the finger of
God? It inspired the levity and
merriment that enabled that marriage celebration to be just that--a
celebration. And what did Christ serve
to the apostles at the last supper? Was it
mint julep? Coffee? Lemony soda water? No! It
was wine, sacred and holy, with which he both purified they who would carry on his
good work while establishing the sacrament we have just partaken. It fills me with warm joy to have his blood
coursing through my veins, and at this particular juncture of my life I needed
a second cup. God who made us knows we
who frequently drink too much are not all bad people, and if you reckon what I
have done a sin, then feel free to cast the first stone.”
Father
Jeremy came over and said: “Is there a
problem here? We’re all waiting to
resume mass.”
“He
took the sacrament a second time,” Father Brian said.
“Did
not!”
“Did
too!”
“Did
not!”
“Did
too!”
“Okay,
I did, but I also explained why I had to do it,” Chet responded.
“Well,
why don’t you return to your pew so we can get on with the service,” Father
Jeremy calmly suggested.
“Because
I’d first like to settle this little conflict,” Chet replied with respectful
indignance. Both priests were taken
aback, so he continued before they could interrupt the flow of his inspiration. “As I understand it, Father Brian is implying
that I am somehow condemned by my fondness of wine, and to support his belief
he produced a couple of quotes from the Bible; but I see it differently, and
can also cite scripture to my purpose, as I already have. For example, what says the book of
Ecclesiastes? According to my reading it
tells that all our fleeting days under the sun are numbered even before given
to us by the Lord, and being in such limited supply, to be cherished. Therefore Ecclesiastes does not instruct us
to shun the good gifts of the earth that God has provided for our enjoyment,
but rather says: ‘Eat your bread with
happiness, and drink your wine with a cheerful heart, for God has already
approved your good works.’ Which verse can
also be applied to the taking of the sacrament, I do believe.”
“You’ve
articulated your point quite well,” Father Jeremy politely said, “so if you
would now return to your seat, there’s a whole congregation patiently waiting
to continue worship, as you can see.”
Enervated
by the wine, Chet continued unabated.
“Anyone who’s ceased their prayer because you’re taking time to speak
with me probably wasn’t worshipping in the first place. Now, the trappist monks of Bulgaria
“The
sacrament is a very sacred rite,” Father Brian answered, “and to command the
respect it so worthily deserves, the affect of the wine used therein should not
be cheapened by accessing it to the public through liquor stores. If you don’t like or agree with the way
things are done in this place, maybe you should leave.”
“Is
that what you would have?” Chet rejoined, raising his voice to be audible to
all. “One less member in the flock under
the roof? Yet again we differ on
interpretation, for my understanding is that God would want one more--nay, three!” Thus emboldened, he walked down the aisle to
the front doors and threw them open.
“Hey fellows!” he called to his friends there on the outside. “Charles, Edgar, Russell...come in here for a
moment.”
“Chet! What have you been doing inside that church?”
Charles asked.
“Come
over here, man,” Edgar said. “We just
got two nice bottles of applejack.”
“Come
on...have a drink with us,” Russell added, holding out the bag.
“I’m
tired of that rotgut,” Chet replied.
“Follow me, and I promise you’ll taste the best wine that exists on the
earth.”
“Really? The best?” Charles said, perking his
eyebrows.
“Really
and truly...better than anything you could ever imagine...but you have to
hurry!”
Charles
bounded up the steps, with Edgar and Russell hesitantly straggling behind. The winos had never seen the inside of the
church around which they had spent so many hours of their lives drinking, and
marveled in amazement at the architecture and artwork while also cordially
nodding their heads and greeting the onlookers as they passed, saying: “Hello...good evening...how you
doing...beautiful church you have here...thanks for having us....”
“Fear
them not,” their leader announced boldly as they warily followed him to the
altar. “You all know the angels rejoice
more for the one lost sheep recovered than the ninety nine who never strayed
from the field, and I have brought in three more.”
He took
them to the empty wafer bowl, near which Father Jeremy was standing, to whom he
said: “Do you have any more
bread--wait! Nevermind! I have something that’ll do.” He produced a few crackers that he happened
to have in his pocket, and asked Charles, Edgar and Russell to kneel.
“What
are you doing, man?” Charles nervously whispered. “You said you were bringing us to taste some
fine wine. What’s with these crackers?”
“Shh,”
he answered. “The wine is coming, but
first you must eat these.”
There
was a remarkable calm upon the congregation, the result of shock. They all waited in patient silence, allowing
their priests to handle the delicate situation.
Father
Brian came over to the men, and said to Chet:
“This is most unorthodox, and I think it might be best if you stopped
right now.”
“Let
them proceed,” Father Jeremy softly instructed.
“Higher authorities will judge whether or not their work is good.”
“Thank
you Father, it is,” Chet answered. He
then ministered the crackers and blessed his friends. That done he brought them to the chalice, and
asked Father Jeremy for permission to refill it with a look and a motion of his
hand, to which the priest nodded consent.
He did so and put it to each of their lips, making certain they imbibed
only moderate mouthfuls.
“That is
good! Real good!”
“Wow! Mm, mm, mmmm!”
“Where
can we get a bottle?”
Chet
looked down and pondered taking a third sip, but hastily put the cup away when
he caught Father Brian staring severely.
Then
Father Jeremy said: “Now, would you
please take a seat so we may finish today’s service?”
“Yes,
Father, we certainly shall,” Chet replied, giving the cup one last longing
glance. “And we’d like to thank you
again for your patience and understanding.
You’re a good man.” He led his
friends quickly and quietly to the front pew, where they sat down and listened
to the benediction with their hands folded across their laps.
After
the conclusion of the service, Father Jeremy came and took Chet aside. “You’re all always welcome here, and not just
on days the sacrament is given, but I would ask one thing.”
“What’s
that, good Father?” he replied.
“Anything you want.”
“This
is a house of God, and should be treated with every respect; and though I don’t
particularly care how you dress for mass, your friends smell like they haven’t
bathed in some time, which can be offensive and distracting to the rest of the
congregation. If you need a place to
wash I’m in the rectory behind the church for two hours before every service,
and you’re all welcome to stop by and use my sink.”
“Some
of us just may have to do that,” Chet replied, turning toward his mates. “And thank you again; you’re tolerant and
wise, the way all men of the cloth should be.
I may not have added three thousand to the rolls as happened at the
Pentecost, but I have brought three to the threshold.”
“Ah, I
see you’re at least somewhat familiar with the Bible,” Father Jeremy remarked.
“Yes,
you have gotten some return on your wine,” Chet replied.
Chapter 1 -- The Wine
Chapter 2 -- Setting Forth
Chapter 3 -- An Amish At Cumorah
Chapter 4 -- The Treasure In The Chest
Chapter 5 -- The Jesus Christ Show
Chapter 6 -- The Quakers
Chapter 7 -- The Shakers
Chapter 1 -- The Wine
Chapter 2 -- Setting Forth
Chapter 3 -- An Amish At Cumorah
Chapter 4 -- The Treasure In The Chest
Chapter 5 -- The Jesus Christ Show
Chapter 6 -- The Quakers
Chapter 7 -- The Shakers
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