B (44:46)
Am I baptized? Of course you're baptized. Like, where is this coming from? And I said, well, he's like, oh, look, son, I should have told you. You can't tell anyone that we do that, all right? That's all our little secret. I was like, okay, I like secrets. But you seem to know what you're doing. What's the story here? And he nods in that way that parents do when the jig is up. And he goes to get a photo album. It's dusty. He cracks it open, and there he is as a young man. I've never seen pictures of my father as a baby or a teenager. So this is a bit of a shock. And he's narrating. He's like, yeah, eight years in seminary, and then eight years with my own congregation on the Upper west side, Our lady of Esperanza. I said Mass in Spanish because I had a Dominican population. And there he is in the black robe and the clerical collar of a priest. Now, the masses at home had been going on for some time, so this wasn't a huge shock. I had suspected. What was a shock was the sense of pride that I felt. I thought, this is some nifty history. This is where I come from. This is my dad. And then I asked the next logical question. I was like, how does an ordained priest meet a single woman? Shuts the book. That's complicated. Go ask your mother. So I go to mom, and by now I'm a preteen. I'm a little blunter. I'm like, mom, dad was a priest. And she's like, yeah, honey, I know. I'm like, well, what did you do to him? She's like, dude, I didn't do anything. We fell in love. I'm like, okay, How? He won't tell me. And she's like, well, you have to understand, Matt, that was a very painful time in your dad's life. You know, his family is Irish Catholic. Having a priest in the family is like a status symbol. So when he left for me, his mother ripped up all his baby pictures, which is why you haven't seen any, and disowned him. Said, you're not our son. They called me the Italian hussy from Long island who was stealing your father away from God. But they were also just pretty scandalized by my profession. I said, you're a teacher. What's so bad about that? She said, no, no, my other profession. Then she goes to get her photo album, takes it down, opens it up, and there she is as a young woman. And she lets out a sigh. Now, you have to understand, I hadn't taken final vows yet. I was a novitiate, so it was easier for me to leave. And there she is in the black robe and the habit. And now the shock has this Catholic double whammy. I'm like, you were a nun? He's like, yeah, Sister of Mercy. And his parents just, you know, that was extra scandalous. You know, not only was he in love, but that he was a nun in love with a priest. Well, their Irish Catholic heads just. That was it. As is my head exploding now. And she's like, we have to understand, Matt, this is the early 70s, which means nothing to an 11 year old. And then she tries to explain Vatican II, which is equally complex. But the takeaway is that the windows of the church, metaphorically, were now open and that there was a greater liberating spirit. A lot of clergy were leaving. They felt the freedom to leave. And priests and nuns, Nuns and nuns were falling in love and leaving the church two by two. It was like Noah's Ark in reverse. Everyone was abandoning ship. And my mother says, well, you know that, you know, we're not alone in this mat. A lot of our friends are ex clergy. I'm like, really? Yeah. You know the Newnham boys, their parents, Mike and Mary Beth, priest, nun. I said, you're kidding. No, Mary Wooten. Mary was a nun. He was a nun. Her partner, Patsy None. And your godmother, Kathy McLeod, she's my best friend in the convent. And I was like, what about Jim and Grace o'? Malley? Oh, no, they were just pseudo hippies. They were long, very supportive friends, but no, nothing. And the people she's listing are amazing. They're peace activists and anti nuclear activists. Some of them come out as gay and lesbian. It's like a Justice League for Christ. And these people left the church to do the work of the church, sometimes better than the church itself. And now that pride, that swelling pride is coming back. And I've never been so happy. And so now I'm like, well, why can't priests get married? And he's like, well, that's a very good question. Your father asked that in his resignation letter. So I'll go back to my father. I'm like, resignation letter? He's like, yeah, I had to write a letter to the Vatican. I was like, can I see it? I'll show you sometime. No, fat chance. I don't get it. I don't see it at all. So. But now, going into my teenage years, this is like. This pride is like. And this history is, like, overwhelming. And all the shame and guilt that I got at St. Mary's it's like running off my back now, because this is the real thing. This is what I've got. And so now in high school, people ask me what my parents do. I was like, yeah, priest and a nun. And I asked stories about my. What were my parents like? I asked questions of my godmother, and she's like, well, your mother took in homeless people. And, oh, the best thing we did was your mother and I, we wrote a letter to the local bishop demanding that he sell his rings to feed the poor, because that's the work of the Gospels. And so that pride and that just continued on, and the stories just kept going and going. And then years later, after my mother dies, my father finally shows me the resignation letter. And then he says, I'm in love with a nun. We're leaving. We wish we could stay, but we can't. If we do stay, we'll be well taken care of with shelter and food and finance. But now that we are entering secular life, we feel that we'll be taking our true vow of poverty, humility and service. And that letter is my North Star. It means as much to me, if not more than any Bible verse. And I think about it when I'm in church. I think about it when I'm not in church, which as my wife likes to remind me is not a lot of the time. But my church is no longer that large, drafty cathedral where I was told to hate myself and hate others who didn't have my faith. My church is that humble kitchen table with that piece of bread and that Carlo Rossi and those two people who taught me about service and community and above all, about love.
