Catholic Church - Waiting for the apocalypse: a memoir of faith and family

M IDNIGHT MASS has not yet begun. People are still trickling in through the doors of St. Marys Church, greeting each other, lighting votive candles, and locating a pew. They sluff off coats, store their purses and canes, write checks in advance for the collection, lower the kneelers, and settle in. If I peek through the lace of my veil I can catch glimpses of the regulars without turning my head: the obese lady in her feathered pillbox hat, the man with the waxed handlebar mustache, the Winking Man, and Tall Miss Rose. The Pooles are here. And the Guttos. And the Gurries. And the Dowds.

Also, many new faces. Modern people. Progressives, Dad calls them. Women who dont wear scarves, some of them in slacks or miniskirts, men in everyday clothes, jewelry peeking out from their chest hair. People armed with the new missal, the Novus Ordo missal, circa 1970, boldly printed in English, with no scapular or rosary in their possession. Vatican II people.

Some of them dont notice my family of eight taking up the fifth pew, but some of them do. As they pass, their eyes flash with recognition and quickly darken. We are the family that is making things difficult for Father Geary and Father Dunne. We are the stubborn traditionalists who wont modernize. We are the anti-revolutionaries.

My understanding of Vatican II goes something like this: Nobody died, or broke the law, or went to jail, but ten years ago, in 1962 (the year I was born), a meeting was called and it lasted three years, and the pope ordered the priests to open their church windows wide to let in the fresh air. But instead, the Smoke of Satan entered, and muddled everyones brains, making them modern and sinful and prone to divorce. And now Catholics everywhere were behaving like Protestants, which was only one step away from being atheists, which was no different from being Communists.

Dad took Vatican II very seriously and told us about it over dinner, and what he said about it wasnt one bit good, as I could tell by his unhappy face and angry tone, and by the way he slammed down his fork and wiped his mouth hard on Moms linen napkin, and by all the strange, harsh-sounding words he used.

Vatican IIEcumenical CouncilVatican IIMasonic infiltrationVatican IIheresyVatican IIsnow job.

When Dad told us about Vatican II, I pretended to get what he was saying and agree absolutely, because when a person talked with such vehemence you didnt want him to have to repeat himself. But also because Dad was a policeman and looked so strong and handsome in his California Highway Patrol uniform, and carried a .357 Magnum in his holster, and had one tan arm and one white one from driving with an arm hooked out the window of his patrol car, and because of the lovable oddity of having one leg shorter than the other, requiring him to wear a shoe insert. And because when he played the harmonica, he had a way of curling over the instrument with his shoulders and head, and stomping his foot, and frowning, and huffing into the mouth organ, and I didnt want him to ever stop doing that, ever. I pretended to understand when he used words like ostpolitik and pontificate and ex-cathedra as if they were everyday words like soap, paint, and elephant because I wanted him to think I was on his side. But honestly, I didnt get what the big deal was. I mean, church was church, no matter how you sliced it.

Mom, who hated politics and never had much to say about Vatican II outside of the kitchen, suggested to Dad that he wasnt making things clear for our young minds, and Dad sighed and made a helpless gesture, and said, Well, theres no other way of explaining it! and Mom shrugged, and instead of showing him how, asked, Who wants seconds?

Its no wonder that it was Mom, and not Dad, who eventually clarified Vatican II for me.

Sister Mary Margaret wore the shortened veil at mass today, she said one day after church. I always thought she of all the nunsI dont know. I guess I thought shed hold out.

Thanks to Mom, I was able to put the Vatican II puzzle together. Sister Mary Margarets jazzy new shoulder-length veil: Vatican II. English words instead of Latin: Vatican II. No scarves on ladies heads: Vatican II. The altar facing the congregation instead of facing the crucifix: Vatican II. Standing at the communion rail instead of kneeling: Vatican II. The wafer in the hand instead of on the tongue: Vatican II. The Handshake of Peace: Vatican II.

And I only got three Hail Marys from Father Geary in confession, she added. He used to give at least ten.

Shorter penances: Vatican II.

My class got new catechisms today, I said, trying to put a fresh spin on Vatican II. The pictures are much more colorful. The angels wings look real. I like them.

Well, I wont have that progressive propaganda in this house, Dad said. Im going to talk to Father Geary, and give him a piece of my mind.

Mimi Rendler says maybe we can be altar girls, Terry ventured.

Nonsense, Mom said.

But St. Matthews has altar girls, Terry said.

That doesnt make it right.

Terry and I exchanged disappointed glances.

Altar girls: Vatican II.

Mom, why cant I watch Sesame Street ? Nick asked one Saturday morning.

Because it teaches children to be socialists.

Sesame Street : Vatican II.

At St. Timothys in San Mateo, Father Schmidt broke the Holy Rosary in half and threw it on the ground, saying, The rosary is outdated. Id rather read a dirty book. So we left St. Timothys and we joined St. Gregorys. Then we walked out of St. Gregorys and joined St. Matthews. Then we left that church, and Dad went on a parish hunt, searching the entire Bay Area for a single church that stuck to the old ways. Each church disappointed him more than the last. There was no more denying what had happened to the Catholic Church. Before Vatican II you couldnt find a church that didnt say the Tridentine Mass. Now you couldnt find one that did.