The Long Run (16 page)

We all love play practice so much we ask Rags if we can have it every day. The time whizzes by. And we have such fun. One of the craziest things about practice is we all remember everyone else's lines. Every day now, in the dorm or the TV room, during recess, before study hall, at meals, everywhere, even in chapel, someone's always playing with lines from
Julius Caesar
. Bug's favorite is, “How should I know, it's all Greek to me.” Blackie's is, “'Tis very like he hath the spells.” And Father Cross says of Oberstein, “He reads much; he's a great observer and looks quite through the deeds of men.” Oberstein's always saying to Kavanagh and Skinny Ryan, “Let me have men about me that are fat.” There's no end to the quoting going on.

Tomorrow we are all being measured for costumes. Opening night is only three weeks away. Rags is taking photos of the lead actors and placing them outside the hall on a big bulletin board so everyone can see who's playing what part. He says that's the way the professionals do it on Broadway. Everyone is getting really excited about opening night. We're all taking it very seriously. Bug's stealing a couple of onions to peel just before Murphy's Mark Antony speech so he'll look like he's really crying. Father Cross says he's figured out a few more tricks so the makeup will look professional. Blackie has promised Murphy that Bug won't moon him during the performance, and we've all promised not to stab or knee or punch Father Cross too hard when the audience is present.

On the way back to McCann's class, Oberstein talks to me about the Talmud. He says it's written in the Talmud that every blade of grass has its angel that bends over it and whispers, “Grow, grow.” Oberstein's gone mad over the Talmud. That's sort of like our Bible. He quotes it all the time. But everything he says is all Greek to me.

When we are all seated, McCann asks if anyone knows anything about limbo.

“Isn't that the name of a movie?” Rowsell asks.

“No!” McCann shouts. “It's not a movie. Good God!”

He says it's a place for lost souls and he'll teach us about it in a minute. But first he wants us all to understand an important difference between praying to Mary and praying to Jesus.

“You must never forget,” he growls. “Mary always comes second. Jesus is always first. Remember Jesus is God. Mary is
not
God.”

“Jeepers, isn't your mother the most important person in the world? I thought Mary
. . .
”

“Mary is
not
God, Mr. Bradburys. Now, are there any further dialogues? Murphys?”

“Brother, remember the other day when you said that a child who isn't baptized goes to limbo? Well, what about if you are in the desert, and your wife had a baby, and the baby is only a few days old and dying from not having any water or food, and you really wanted to baptize the baby, but of course you had no water, and the baby died . . . would it go to heaven or limbo?”

“Limbo,” McCann snaps. “If a newborn is not baptized by water, and the spirit cannot be returned to its maker, it would go straight to limbo.”

“But they had no water,” Bug whines. “This is all Greek to me. They really, really, really wanted to baptize the baby but there was no water around anywhere. Not a drop.”

“‘Water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to drink,'” McCann giggles. “My Japanese brother's favorite poem.” His brother is a Jesuit priest in charge of a parish in Osaka. He gets such a big kick outta his “Japanese” brother. We met Father McCann once. He looks a lot like Brother McCann, but he doesn't seem as crazy.

“And who was the founder of the Jesuit order, boys?”

“St. Ignatius Loyola, Brother.”

“And its greatest member?”

“St. Francis Xavier, Brother.”

“You know of his accounts of the Buddhist monks in the mountains of Japan, boys. About his reaching the peak of Mount Hiei to meet with the monks and being refused an audience. As the Holy Father reminds us, we are a small church in a large world, boys. What are we?”

“A small church in a large world, Brother.”

“Why was he refused an audience, Brother?” Bug asks, trying to suck up.

“How the hell do I know that?” McCann barks.

“Is there no exception to the baptism by water rite, Brother?” Oberstein, sensing a storm, switches the subject.

McCann stares past Oberstein, his eyes closing as if in sleep. “There is a possibility that the newborn could go to heaven. You will recall from a previous class how Holy Mother Church makes two exceptions. Only two.” He opens his eyes and pauses for dramatic effect. “One, baptism of fire. And two, baptism of desire. The latter happens when God believes you did everything within your power to find water, everything within your power, but were absolutely unable to.”

“Could you use soda pop?” Kavanagh asks.

“Most definitely not, Kavanaghs. Soda pop is not water.”

“Couldja use wine?” Rogers asks. Rogers is not a member of the Klub. Blackie and I look at each other and freeze.

“No. And most certainly not holy sacristy wine.” There is a long silence as he scans the class.

“Couldja use spit?” Brookes asks. “Spit is water, isn't it?”

“Good God!
No
, you could not. It must be pure water.”

Oberstein raises his hand. “What's so impure about spit? It's only H
₂
O.” We all perk up. Oberstein asks such interesting questions. McCann gives him a long-winded senseless response that leaves us totally confused. When Oberstein rebuts him, McCann ignores him and says, “I'm sorry, Mr. Obersteins, but I cannot make it clearer than that. These are God's little mysteries.”

“Brother, water is a compound of oxygen and hydrogen, of liquid form, seen in lakes, streams, rivers, rain, even tears, sweat, saliva. Even urine. They're all basically water, Brother.”

McCann ignores Oberstein, turns his back, goes to the blackboard and writes the words “fire” and “desire.” As he is writing, Ryan turns and whispers, “You could pee on the baby's head.”

The class giggles.

McCann wheels around. “Who said that? Ryans, was that you?” Two kangaroo leaps and he is at Ryan's desk.

“Yes, Brother. But I only meant in an emergency. I didn't—”

“Stand up, boy. Hands up.”

“I never meant no disrespect, Brother.”

“Never meant no disrespect! Good grief, the grammar around this place.” McCann sprays spit bullets as he pulls his leather roll from inside his soutane. We watch the snake slowly uncoil, like a yo-yo. He gives Ryan two whacks on each hand, jumping off the floor with each whack. “Now, there'll be no more shenanigans when it comes to the teachings of Holy Mother Church. None, do you hear? None! Save the shenanigans for the hallways. Now open your catechisms and read numbers eighty-seven to one hundred and one. You will learn that baptism by desire happens when God feels that your desire to baptize the infant is greater than if you actually had the water in your presence to perform the baptismal rite.”

Bug flaps his hand. “Yeah, 'cause God knows what's in your heart,” he says, really sucking up. “The good and the evil . . . of the just and the unjust.”

“Very good, Mr. Bradburys. That is correct.”

“And what about baptism by fire, Brother?” Bug asks. “How do you get that?” Bug is such a suck.

“Yes. Excellent dialogues. Baptism by fire occurs when an unbaptized person gives his life for God. You do not need water, because the individual in question is baptized in blood, his own precious blood.”

“Could you give us an example, Brother?”

“Certainly. You will recall little Pundhu Ghanga, from an earlier class. Had he died from his wounds, he would have been baptized in his own blood. A little martyr! Martyrs experience baptism by blood. Another example is the Crusades. Or any holy cause. Many unbaptized Romans died in battle, fighting for the cause of Christendom. Those brave soldiers were instantly baptized. And, I might add
. . .
” He raises his index finger, turns and points to the crucifix above the blackboard, “. . . instantly
confirmed
. They became instant soldiers in the army of Christ. That would be an example of double grace.”

Kavanagh raises his hand. “Just like a double in baseball, wouldn't it be, Brother? You know, two bases on one hit?”

Silence. McCann frowns, thinks for a few seconds and says, “Yes, I suppose so, Kavanaghs. Like a double in baseball. Yes.”

O'Toole's hand shoots up. “What if a guy wanted to kill himself, and he jumped outta the Empire State Building, and on the way down, just before he went splat, in his heart, he had a change of mind—he had the desire to be baptized. Would he be? Would that be an example of baptism by desire?”

McCann's brow wrinkles again. He squints and closes his eyes, opens them and frowns as if he has been asked a trick question.

“Yes. Yes, that would be such an example. If, in his heart, the penitent wanted God's grace . . . there being no water around . . . he would receive the Holy Spirit . . . and be baptized by desire.”

“What about if he happened to have some water? Say he was drinking some on the way down,” Bug says.

McCann squints, closes his eyes. “He would have to use it. He would have to baptize himself with it,” he says.

Oberstein raises his hand.

“Enough dialogues, Obersteins,” McCann says. “Open your catechisms, class. Numbers eighty-seven to one hundred and one. That's your homework. Get at it.”

Study hall in ten minutes. Study hall. Study hall. Ten minutes. Study hall. Study hall.

Formal study always takes place downstairs in our homeroom. The brother on supervision gives us a stern warning about being quiet and usually leaves after a few minutes, popping in and out at long intervals, which is great because we get a chance to whisper and exchange notes. Maybe play X's and O's.

I sit opposite Oberstein, and I can't wait for study hall so I can chat with him. I think I'm going crazy. I'm not kidding. I think I'm hearing things. And worse, seeing things. Like Joan of Arc and Bernadette Soubirous. I think I might've had a vision. Either that or I'm gonna wind up in the Mental. That's what everyone in St. John's calls the nuthouse. It must be the spells wearing me down. They can do that if they get really extreme. I'm reading another book about Floyd Patterson. Blackie gave it to me after I talked to him about the spells. It's called
Victory over Myself
. It's a really good book. He used to get the spells a lot. Only he didn't call them that.

The vision happened a few days ago when I was doing my chapel duty for Advent preparation. In the weeks leading up to Advent, the brothers appoint a boy every few hours to spend vigil time in the chapel, right up until lights out. I was kneeling in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary, just staring at her for about an hour, watching the glow from her beautiful face, asking her for protection. That's what Rags told us to do every night before going to sleep and every morning after we get out of bed. Pray to Our Lady of Perpetual Help for protection and guidance, first thing every morning and the last thing every night.

Mary is a really big gun at the Mount. Everyone's always praying to her for something or other. Brother McMurtry comes round to each classroom during the feast days of Mary with ice cream and potato chips and soda pop. He calls them wingdings. If it is the feast of Mary, Queen of the World, or the Seven Sorrows of Mary, or Our Lady of Lourdes, or Fatima, or the Assumption, or Mary, Queen of Peace, we have a wingding. We used to pore over religious books, looking for anything named after the Mother of God to get another wingding. Once, Bug read in a magazine the name Our Lady of Guadalupe, but Brother Walsh said that feast day didn't count, for some reason. But when a feast day did count, we would make candles and paper flowers and decorate the statue of Mary in our classroom, and Brother McMurtry would come by and stop class and inspect the statue and give a little speech about Mary's feast day, and then we'd have our wingding. He'd always finish up his speech by telling us that the first thing we should do each morning is hit the hard, cold floor on our knees and ask Mary to beg Jesus for forgiveness for our sins.