The priest entered the Mass in perfect decorum, striding humbly but with firmness of purpose behind the altar boy. The acolyte, in his bare feet, did not skip, but could not be said to be “processing” either. Upon reaching the altar, he misplaced the cross and it fell to the floor. He then reached for the bells, and rang them repeatedly while the young priest tried to stop him. Finally, the priest called out in exasperation, “Mom! He won’t let me begin the prayers!” The McGuire boys were “practicing” Mass again, Lord have mercy!
I confess to watching this scene of my two sons with quiet amusement. Although close in age, the difference in temperament between the boys is extreme. It is like watching the Franciscans and the Dominicans feud it out daily. And their love for each other gives me new hope for the future of the Church.
Take our Dominican (— please!). He is partial to bow ties and button-down Oxfords. His speech is articulate and his demeanor is serious. He is the only child in the family who studies without provocation from mom. This is not to say that he is perfect. I have on numerous occasions been forced to remind him that the Sabbath was created for man, and not man for the Sabbath. His feelings are often hurt when others reject in word or in action his good sense of rectitude. He can get particularly violent when prevented from pretending the Mass in the proper manner.
The devote’ of St. Francis, on the other hand, is lamenting the arrival of fall and full-time shoe usage. He is happiest wiggling, and always has a smile of delight on his face as he teases his siblings. He is, in fact, probably a leprechaun. (He is half-Irish, after all.) He does not mean to upset the Dominican by profaning the Mass. He is just full of the joy of childhood, and cannot help but share that joy concretely. His feelings are rarely hurt, as he just accepts others as he finds them. He is usually quite unaware when his service at the pretend altar falls short of the expectations of his brother.
Recently, both boys had eye surgery on the same day. In the recovery room, reunited and playing quietly with their trains, the Franciscan spontaneously exclaimed to the Dominican, “You are my very best friend! I love you!” (It should be noted that the Franciscan loves everyone in Christ Jesus, and is uniquely genuine and whole-hearted about it.) After a thought, the Dominican replied, “I don’t think you are my best friend.”
Prompted by Mom, he added, “But I love you too!” (It should be noted that the Dominican is rather careful about appearing to love anyone or anything more than the one holy God.)
One might think that the two boys are in constant struggle, but God is good. There is a place and a purpose for each of them in our family. The delicate balance between divine adoration and earthly pleasures, between justice and mercy, is far clearer for the contributions of these two little church mice. Without the Reverend Doctor, the other children would be far less reverent at the actual Mass. Without Brother Moonbeam, I quite fear that the other brother might never have discovered the joy of playing in the mud.
And so it is in the larger Church. I find myself enjoying the wide extremes of the Roman Catholic Church. The Franciscans I have known have taught me to dance, and the Dominicans I have known have taught me to ponder. Teaching each son to appreciate the strengths of the other and suffer his weaknesses lightly has taught me about real love. It has produced a lasting peace in my heart, full of the knowledge of the love of God. Truly, nothing can separate us in Christ Jesus.
