Going the Distance (25 page)

Father Mulligan stood up slowly. “Perverts, murderers, and faggots.” He paused for effect. “Oh my.”

The crowd nervously chuckled.

“So these people, these sinners are the problem, then?” he asked rhetorically. The crowd agreed halfheartedly. “Those who have strayed from the path of the righteous are the greatest threat to the church today? Why?” he asked, looking at the crowd. “Because they hate what they can’t understand? They try to tear us down because we show them how flawed they are?” A few more cheers of agreement. “So then it’s jealousy? They attack us because they’re jealous we are assured the keys to the kingdom while they will, at the very best, spend the rest of their godforsaken lives wandering the desert looking for water?” More agreement from the crowd, who seemed to be getting into it.

“Well then, how do we stop it?” he asked. “How do we keep these sinners from tearing down our faith? Do we condemn them? Do we punish them for crimes against the Holy Father? Do we try to outlaw them? Stop them from marrying each other? Make it legal for people to not serve them if they want?” The crowd was quiet now. “Do we take away their rights as citizens and make sure that even if they don’t believe in our way, they will live their life by it?”

No one said a word.

“If these people are the problem, then shouldn’t we do anything we need to stop them? Isn’t it our responsibility as Catholics to stand up and fight back? Are we not warriors of God?” The crowd started to agree with him again, but I could see the look of speculation on a few people’s faces.

“If this is a war for our souls, then shouldn’t we use every weapon at our disposal? Our words, our votes, and our actions? Shouldn’t we stand up and make sure that these perverts, murders, and faggots are made to pay?” More agreement from some, but a few more people were scowling now.

“Does it not say in Ephesians, ‘put on the full armor of God, that you may be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil’?” A few more cheers of agreement. “‘For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.’” A few more cheers and a couple of amens. “‘Therefore, take up the full armor of God, that you may be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.’” Now almost the whole place was cheering with him.

I, on the other hand, felt like I was seconds from being lynched.

“So we have to do everything in our power to stop these people, right?” he asked. The crowd this time readily agreed. “These people are the problem, right?” More agreement.

“Well, I’m sorry, but you’re wrong,” he said. He’d walked as he’d talked and stood at the pulpit once again.

The mood of the crowd came to a screeching halt.

“You’re dead wrong. The greatest problem facing the church today is not perverts, murderers, or faggots.” He stared intently out at everyone. “The greatest threat to the church today is you.”

Now people were vocally upset. There were some boos and a couple of protests, but Father Mulligan just stood there and waited.

“The greatest threat that faces the church today is the startling lack of love and acceptance by the people in it.” You could have heard a pin drop. “You people didn’t name three things that were threats to the church. You named three groups of people who need the love of God the most.” I saw a few people staring at him with their mouths open in shock. “The church is not a sports team. We are not one side that is arbitrarily picked to be against another. You see perverts, and I see sick people who need to be healed. You see murderers, and I see fallen brothers and sisters who have never needed love more in their lives. And you see faggots, and I see a group of God’s children being hated for just being. And you say you are faithful Christians, and I see a group of hateful people masquerading as children of God.”

People were murmuring to themselves, and I could tell this was not the homily they were expecting today.

“If we are servants of God, and I mean true servants and not just in name, then we have an obligation to love everyone in the name of the Lord. Not just the people we agree with and not just the things we can understand, but everything. Saint Augustine said it best when he wrote ‘
Cum dilectione huminum et odio vitiorum
.’ It translates as ‘With love for mankind and hatred of sins,’ but nowadays we just say love the sinner, but hate the sin. And though it is true we must love the sinner, I think Augustine got it right the first time. With love for mankind. That is the point, for all of mankind. Not the white folks or the straight ones or the nice ones, for all mankind. There are times when I think the Statue of Liberty has the right idea. ‘Give me your tired, your poor. Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. The wretched refuse of your teeming shores. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me.’”

He paused to let the words sink in.

“She got it. The woman who wrote that got it. Why can’t we? We are supposed to be God’s chosen. We are his servants here on Earth, and it is our job to bring his love to those who don’t know they are loved. Our job is not to hold others in judgment. Not to belittle the people we don’t agree with. You think there is evil in the world? So do I. You think there is wickedness abundant in the air? I agree. You think the answer is hating them? You’re wrong, dead wrong. And I assure you, if you think the fact you are here, dressed up on a Sunday, is a golden ticket to heaven, it isn’t. You want to quote Corinthians and tell me that the sexually immoral, idolaters, adulterers, or men who practice homosexuality will not inherit the kingdom of God, then be sure to finish the quote with thieves, greedy people, drunks, revilers, and swindlers too. You think having money and wanting more is good? Not according to that quote. You want to think getting the best out of a deal is good, you’re better off finding another passage to defend it.”

He began to pace as he talked. “People are so quick to say what will keep you out of heaven, but they forget we have guidelines covering how to get in too. He left us a lesson plan, and all we have to do is follow it. Judge not, that you be not judged. Matthew 7:1. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind.
And your neighbor as yourself.
Luke 10:27. Love your neighbor as yourself. It is right there. Why can’t we see it? You want to say those people are a threat to the church, and I say it’s the people who forgot that last part. Love your neighbor as yourself. You want to talk about who isn’t getting into heaven? What about Romans 3:23? For
all
have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.
All
,” he repeated loudly. “Not just the ones in here, not the ones who are straight, but all. It isn’t our job to say who will and will not get into heaven. All we have to do is the very best we can and let the rest fall to our Father. And I swear to you, he will take points off for pointing fingers at others and telling everyone what they have done wrong.”

The crowd was coming back around now, and I could see they were agreeing with him, myself included.

“So let me start over,” he said, smiling at us as he got behind the podium again. “What is the greatest challenge to the church today?”

I spoke up before I even knew what I was doing. “Love.”

He looked over at me and winked. “See? This young man has it.”

I felt my face grow red as I looked over at Nate, who was looking at me with a huge smile.

“Now let us pray,” he said as we all put our heads down and closed our eyes.

It was the first time I understood what people got out of going to church.

After the service, people were walking around talking to people. I asked Nate if I could go to Father Mulligan and say something. We walked over and waited as he talked to an elderly couple who seemed taken with his sermon. When they were done, he turned to us and looked at me with wide eyes. “Well now, I didn’t know God still made them this big anymore.”

I looked down in embarrassment as Nate said, “Father, this is Danny. This was his first time at a mass.”

“Was it?” he said, sounding pleased. “And what did you think?”

Looking up at him, I felt a million warring emotions in my heart. “I loved it, I really did.”

That seemed to make him even happier, and he clapped my shoulder. “That is humbling to hear, Danny. Nowadays getting to kids your age is the hardest part. If God had a Twitter account, it might be easier.”

I chuckled at the joke. “So how do I do it?” He looked confused. “I mean, what do I do to go to a church? I mean, is there an application or something?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s a lot like buying a good suit. You need to shop around until you find one that will keep you warm, that is comfortable, and most of all doesn’t feel like it’s suffocating you. Every church is different, even though we all have the same boss. He’s pretty lax with the franchise.”

I laughed again. Were all priests this funny? “So I just show up and, what? Ask questions?”

“I bet you there are hundreds of people out there who would love to answer any question you have about God and his plan for you, Danny. All you have to do is ask.”

“I will,” I said quickly.

His face got serious. “I’m not going to lie to you, Danny, it isn’t easy all the time. God asks a lot of us, and all we can do is endure. Some people think church is just a social thing to see friends and to feel better about themselves, but if you’re serious, if you want to really do it, it will take some work.”

“I’m not afraid of work, sir,” I said, thinking of how hard I worked to be good at basketball.

“Neither is he,” he said, pointing up. “What you give, he will repay a thousand times over.”

Nothing in my life had felt this right before, and I was almost giddy with emotion. Overcome, I reached over and hugged him. “Thank you so much for talking today.”

I felt him hug me back and say, “No, Danny, thank you for listening today.”

And that was when I became religious.

T
HE
COACH
yelled to me on the sidelines, “Monroe, are you even listening?”

Indeed I was not even listening. I was too busy looking across the court at the end of my world and wondering how I got there. No, scratch that, I knew exactly how I got there. I was actually wondering how to get the hell out of there.

I had been trying to will my heart to stop beating for most of the game so far, but no dice.

Nodding at the coach, I tried to force myself to pay attention to the game. After all, this was the playoffs for State. I was a senior and about to graduate, and all I could think about was how badly I’d screwed everything up. That and how hot he looked.

It had started out such a good season too.

Since I was a senior, no one even blinked when I was named team captain; in fact, it was expected. I had a dozen guys looking at me asking how they were going to win State this year. Fortunately I had an answer for them. BEEF.

No, not like meat, B.E.E.F.

It stands for Balance, Eyes, Elbow, and Follow-through. It was the technique they taught me in Germany when I was first learning to play, and I realized we all needed a refresher in the basics. That summer break we all headed up to Austin. The coach had booked us a week of basketball camp, where we were all taught the game again from the ground up. Most of the guys needed it, because they had learned to play the game on the court. They hadn’t gone to any school or had special lessons in it. It was a game you played with a ball and a hoop, and that was it. The tactics behind the game were a mystery to them, and they needed to solve it. I needed it because I was badly out of shape. Not in regards to my body—I had gone back to working out like I used to—but my skills on the court needed some help. I hadn’t played with a real team in almost a year, and from the way I was tripping all over the court, it showed.

That and the fact that my hip would not let it go.

It’s not like it always hurt or anything, but it did not seem to share my love for basketball. I knew this because after any game, it screamed at me for at least an hour, no matter how long I iced or applied heat to it. I began downing Advil like it was candy, telling myself to just man through because there was no time to worry about a little bit of pain.

I so wished it was just a little bit of pain.

After the camp we began to really gel as a team, and it was an epic thing to watch. What had started out as just another group of high school guys was slowly becoming a unit. We all became obsessed with getting better, and for a couple of perfect weeks, we weren’t just a basketball team but a band of brothers. We ate, talked, and slept basketball. It was the center of our universe as the summer shambled slowly toward fall. But for the first time in forever, I wasn’t hesitant about the coming school year. I was eager for it.

I was ready for this season.

The first few games, we blew past the other team so badly that they might as well have been junior high kids. By the third game, there were college recruiters in the stands, and they were all watching us. I had never been so proud of the team. They didn’t get cocky, they didn’t get overconfident, they didn’t let the wins go to their head. We had one goal collectively and that was winning State this year. Nothing else mattered. We ran as a team in the morning, our breath fogging with the early chill as we lapped the football field again and again. No one talked, no one complained. We all ran in unison, knowing in our mind’s eye we could see the same finish line.

The only other thing I did during this time was go to church.

Nate had been right about faith: it was everything. I read the Bible, which was okay, but honestly contradicted itself more than it made sense. I listened to the youth pastors who spoke to us every weekend, and one cold Sunday morning in the middle of August, I was baptized as the sun broke over the dark sky. I had never felt so at peace in my entire life. I worked out, I went to school, and each night I prayed for God to allow me the strength to win this year.