Against All Godds

By Marvin M. Litvack

The closeness of family and the nurturing of friendships are an inevitable part in any person's development as well as a myriad of different characters one meets during one's lifetime, which can bode well or have unforeseen consequences. So it was with our protagonist.
John Michael Morgan's thirst for a Catholic universe burned within him in which he envisioned a better world as he entered the sacred calling of priesthood.
The intelligence he conveyed to his congregants earned him their love and was noticed by the church hierarchy which catapulted him to Rome and the Vatican.
But doubts began to pervade his faith when answers to his uncertainties could not be reasonably given. His world of God and church came tumbling down and changed his life forever.
Without his white collar that defined him, he entered into a new persuasion of thought and purpose which propelled him to heights he could never have anticipated.
Filled with a new resolve, John Michael Morgan changed the unchangeable but not without significant life altering events. He is thrown into a world of intrigue, conspiracy, murder, political power and love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665556828

Marvin M. Litvack

Marvin Litvack has had a varied career in his life: a tracer of missing persons, private investigator, process server, paralegal amongst others. His acquired knowledge of the courts and the drama that pervade its chambers gave him impetus in his writings and characterizations of the many people he encountered. Having travelled to many places around the world, lends to the authenticity of the areas he has written about. Born and residing in Toronto Canada, he is married to a former Peruvian airline stewardess who counts as one of her friends and acquaintances, a former vice-president of the United States. Now retired, his love of writing has not waned one bit and watching his grandchildren growing up to maturity is one of his greatest pleasures.

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© 2022 Marvin M. Litvack. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  07/13/2022

ISBN: 978-1-6655-5684-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-5683-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-5682-8 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

This book is dedicated to my wife, children and grandchildren (especially to my son Michael who helped make the writing of this work easier)

Contents

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

John Michael Morgan wore his faith on his sleeve for everyone to see. But the unexplained intervened in his quest for a Catholic world and changed his perception of God and church.

But the faith he held sacred evaporated as the morning dew and he sought a new life and a fresh challenge.

With a brand new pursuit before him, he set about to change the world in a fresh concept of humanism, and beyond all expectations, he succeeded, but not without consequence.

A life filled at first with the finest of intentions, suddenly became entwined in intrigue, conspiracy, murder, political power and ……love.

Chapter 1

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F ather John Michael Morgan looked over his Sunday morning Mass. He was as usual, confidently prepared. With his sermon neatly fitted within his loose leaf binder, he strode up to the lectern ready to uplift all the eager souls waiting for one of his stirring Jesus loves you messages for which he had become well known. His intimate reaching out to his congregants was what made him loved by all. His voice would carry well beyond the chapel walls delivering God’s holy message. His was the eternal vigilance against those who would deny scripture. He was the epitome of all that was Christian love and he was its guardian. He felt the Catholic world rested on his shoulders and he loved and relished it. This was his world.

John Michael was a fourth generation Bostonian Morgan. His great great-grandparents had come over in the late eighteen eighties escaping the poverty that pervaded Ireland in those days and made a life amongst the teeming squalor that was then Boston along with other immigrants of other backgrounds that made their way to the shores of this new found land. It mattered not where you came from or what you believed. One had to eat and feed their family and everyone had to make a living as best they could.

Belinda Morgan proudly held her new born son in her arms. This here be my little priest. She smiled.

Aye that he be. Concurred Thomas Patrick as they both coddled their infant son. Thomas and Belinda would at times use the brogue they had each grown up with listening to their own grandparents reminisces of the old sod.

Never forget where ye come from. The old ones would remind their grandchildren. It be your heritage.

Thomas and Belinda had each heard all the old stories many times before and though colorful and nostalgic to those who dreamt of the tiny people, the leprechauns ambling across the lush emerald green hills and meadows of the old country, America was home. The Celtic speech was colorful which they would use from time to time; but they were of this new world with their New England twang that set them apart from their New York cousins, the other Morgans.

Thomas Morgan was a tall man. Over six feet with muscles that belied his somewhat scrawny frame. Those who would incur his wrath felt his sting. The lesson was learned. Thomas Morgan may have been a man of peace but God forbid anyone challenging this quiet man.

The docks of Boston is where he first earned his keep as a stevedore and a union man. It wasn’t popular to belong to a union in those days and fights would break out between the management and the fledgling union. Chains and clubs were not uncommon when a dispute had to be resolved. Thomas never backed down from a fight and it was his strength and determination that eventually won the day when the union was finally accepted as a way of life and ensconced in the dealings that flourished on the docks of Boston.

Thomas quickly became the spokesperson and eventually president of his union and with the proper incentives, things were done. No one asked how Thomas kept things in line, for if one wanted to keep on working one had to shut his eyes to the deals that were made and the money that passed hands. Thomas had no aversion to making money, and he did; a great deal of money.

The Thomas Morgans for the first time became prosperous, moving the family to the affluent area of Forest Hills, settling on Hyde Park Ave. Thomas made sure that the girls went to fine Catholic schools and he couldn’t wait for the day when John Michael would enter the seminary. His life had already been planned for him.

John Michael looked about the cavernous hallway of St. Mathews Catholic Primary School, his first encounter with the beginning of his education to the priesthood. But first, he would have to overcome the stern nuns who would instill in him the will to learn and to learn well.

Language and mathematics weren’t too difficult for this fertile mind. However, his bright inquisitive nature attracted not only the teachers but also his classmates. They saw something different and unusual in this boy. He made friends easily and wasn’t too shy to give his opinion, even when not asked. Unfortunately, John Michael’s unorthodox questions raised a few eyebrows all the way to the principal’s office.

Father Shamus Conan was of the old order. A kindly man, but very strict when it came to Catholic upbringing and teachings. A student was not to question the truth of gospel but to gather it all in as a sponge and ask for forgiveness when any kind of thought would pervade one’s inquisitiveness to doubt scripture.

Now my son. boomed Father Shamus Conan, looking down at the frightened and bewildered John Michael as he sat in front of the towering figure of the principal. Questions are fine when you need answers in mathematics or science, but not when it comes to gospel. Faith my son can never be questioned. Do you understand John Michael?

John Michael sat there, stiffly staring at the floor and bobbing his head fearfully.

There, there, my son. Father Shamus Conan stroked John Michael’s head in reassurance that no harm would come to him. You’re a fine boy from a fine family. I know you’re somewhat impetuous and want to know more than you should know at this time. It will all come to you when the time is right.

John Michael had his warning from "God. No more would he question His"authority.

Boston College with its Jesuit founding appealed to John Michael. As he entered Glasson Hall he felt content. He knew he was going to like it here.

John Michael, through his sheer force of personality, became popular amongst students and teachers alike. He cemented that attitude with a somewhat bizarre and humorous incident. The time when a baseball found its errant way onto the flat roof adjacent to his philosophy classroom. He climbed onto the roof from a window within the classroom to retrieve the ball. Upon reentering was caught by his teacher.

John Michael gallantly bowed to his classmates who cheered his cavalier attitude, then turned to his teacher and gracefully handing him the ball

It is with vicarious concern that I was so chosen to enter where angels fear to tread. John Michael bowed slightly and spoke as eloquently as he could.

The teacher at first scowled at John Michael’s attempt at humor then he simply broke up and laughed uproariously. Mister Morgan. I’m sure the Lord must be watching over you for I simply cannot punish you for your selfless act on behalf of your fellow mates in retrieving this baseball.

That selfless act defined his character as someone who would stand up and be counted.

College seemed to bring out characteristics in John Michael that he never knew he had. He was a problem solver of the first order. On the gridiron he was the quarterback’s favorite receiver as his Eagles won game after game. He excelled in track and field and was counted as a favorite to be on the US Olympic team.

John Michael inherited his father’s good looks and physique and his mother’s trap like mind and good sense. His bright blue Irish eyes were almost hypnotic. With such a combination, how could he fail? His hair however was a problem of immense proportion. No matter how hard he tried to comb or brush his unruly dark reddish strands, and no matter what gel he would apply to keep that mop atop of his head in a controlled manner, it would inevitably spring back to its original sloppy structure, spread every which way. But it did not detract one iota from his whole physical demeanor and pleasing wholesome character liked by all who came in contact with him.

The female contingent of Boston College also took notice, but their advances were shunned leaving the impression that he didn’t like girls. But that notion was soon dispelled. Catherine Bauchmont was a willowy brunette with piercing green eyes and a smile that could melt an iceberg. What seemed to endear her to John Michael and anyone else in her company was the way the freckles at the bridge of her nose made her eyes sparkle. They were now a couple.

Catherine Bauchmont was of French Acadian ancestry. Her family, like so many came to America for a richer life than they had in the Maritimes of eastern Canada. Catherine was the first of her family to enter college and she made them proud of her quick intelligence. At Boston College she soon became known as Catherine the Great.

Her somewhat aloof and aristocratic airs kept many a potential boyfriend at bay. The jocks tried to bag her for a trophy, but she wouldn’t have any of them. Her eyes were set on John Michael from almost the instant she first saw him. His appearance pleased her and Catherine saw her future children in him. It didn’t take long for them to become the talk around campus. They were seen as the perfect match to succeed in anything they would do after college. It was, as everyone said; a match made in heaven.

You have to make up your mind. Argued Belinda O’Hairn Morgan. You simply cannot lead this young lady about when you are destined for the priesthood.

John Michael had pondered this dilemma of his sexual stirrings and the undeniable celibacy of the priesthood. It was a conflict he would have to overcome.

I need your strength. John Michael solemnly posed his dilemma before Catherine as they sat on the porch swing in front of her house on a warm pleasant summer evening.

Catherine stroked his cheek and smiled. And pray tell, what is your problem and how can I help?

John Michael took a deep breath then let it out slowly. I’m to enter the seminary to become a priest after graduation.

For a moment Catherine stiffened then relaxed and laughed. Very cute. She whispered into his ear. You really had me going. Now let’s talk about you making love to me.

John Michael took both of Catherine’s hands in his and solemnly gazed into her eyes. I am in a quandary. As much as I desire to have you, I must have Jesus Christ in my life and He will forever have priority over me for his Ministry. I must serve Him as I only can, as a follower in His Church.

Catherine studied John Michael’s words then his face, and slowly removed her hands from his. You don’t have to be a priest to have Jesus in your life. She reasoned with him. You can have it all with me and Him without cutting yourself off from a family life and if I may add a little fun with me in the bargain.

No Cathy. John Michael heaved a great sigh. I am to be a priest and nothing will deter me from that mission.

Catherine stood up then bent over and kissed John Michael fully on the lips. You’re an idiot. Jesus will never kiss you like I will and He’ll never give you the pleasure I can.

John Michael looked up into Catherine’s green limpid eyes. She was quite beautiful and as much as he desired her, he knew it was not to be. My life was preordained when I was born and no greater deed can I give than to serve my Lord and Master, Jesus Christ.

Jesus Christ. Catherine stood upright before John Michael with her hands on her hips and began to lecture. Your family has bamboozled you into this calling and you like a good sheep, follow. Well John Michael, there will come a day when you will regret your decision and it will be too late. I’ll be gone and given to another. Good-by John Michael.

John Michael stood, put his hands in his pockets and ambled down the stairs from the front porch onto the street without looking back. His decision was made.

Chapter 2

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T he Olympics had come and gone. John Michael won not only the hearts of America but also three gold medals in the five thousand meters, pole vaulting and the decathlon, breaking records and becoming a hero with his picture spread across every major newspaper in America.

He had had his fifteen minutes of fame and now it was time to leave behind the illusion of greatness and be humble with his God.

After graduation from Boston College the seminary of the Franciscan Monks near Plymouth would be his last portal as a student before becoming an ordained priest. The idea of administering the sacrament appealed to John Michael. As a boy he remembered when the priest at the church his family attended administered the sacrament to him, and he thought it was just wonderful. Soon it would be his turn in this ageless holy rite.

Church doctrine and rituals were nothing more than memorization. John Michael’s steel trap mind sopped it all in. The history of the Church however and the doctrines that followed its growth, were of great interest.

"The Greek word katholicos, meaning universal was how we Catholics received our name." John Michael was taught by his primary grade teachers. He, along with all the other students was made not to forget their Roman Catholicism and the history and heritage that came along with what they were being ingrained with.

The persecution of the early Christians by the Roman emperors Decius, Velarian and the others; the Edict of Milan and the making of the Holy Roman Empire by Constantine; the Reformation and all the turmoil that enveloped the Church over the centuries made John Michael relish for more.

He would read all of this and would pour over the many history books at his disposal, finding the checkered past of his church absolutely fascinating.

The thought of how factual the stories were didn’t faze him one bit. It was after all, the message that counted and not how it all came about that really mattered.

The seminary was all that he had hoped it would be. The intellectual exchange with those about him excited his mind and purpose. The authority of God revealing made the idea of John Michael’s own ministry much more appealing.

Being humble before God was fine, but only through force of personality would the word be spread and John Michael knew he had that magnetism that could sway people’s thoughts and emotions.

Remember, it’s not just the word that you are spreading to the uninformed: Commented Brother Ignatius his spiritual instructor. It is how you deliver the message that will be remembered.

John Michael took great stock in this advice. In the meantime, life at the seminary was not all study and devotion. John Michael’s penchant for sport and his proclivity for physical well being had him convincing the others within his sphere of influence to gather up bodies for a well rounded game of touch football; not unheard of in these parts.

The Brothers in their long flowing robes would trip and fall over each other every time they ran for the ball. The scene was right out of a Mack Sennett one reel silent comedy.

The future budding priest hopefuls would ride roughshod over somewhat appearing ineffectual friars until one sunny warm day, out marched a column of gym clad Brothers who took up the challenge laid before them and turned the tables on the young upstarts, having them fall over one another trying in vain to outdo their opponents, without much success. Little did the young priest hopefuls realize that many of the Brothers were at one time college football stars in their own right along with a few shills to turn the tide in their favor.

It was all in good fun and soon became a standard of releasing energy once a week. John Michael was soon credited with installing a physical regimented workout for everyone to the betterment of the whole seminary. This soon caught on at other seminaries where a touch football league was formed and games were played on a fairly regular basis until the first snow fell, then inside for standard workouts. Fit of body and mind.

But John Michael and his young colleagues were not yet ordained so from time to time, a good liquid diet was warranted at their favorite watering hole. A bout of intoxication wasn’t unheard of. A few drunken fist fights would break out amongst other college boys out for a good time but the only damage incurred would be a few missed strikes and stumbling down dead drunk; eventually falling asleep on the floor.

John Michael wasn’t adverse to stand up to any challenge, and his height and strength overpowered anyone wanting to take him on. He would simply put a bear hug on his opponent and gently lay him on the floor until the challenger found the floor more appealing than standing up and flailing away with his somewhat detached arms.

With a glass of beer in hand, John Michael sat and looked about the tavern at all of the youth and the dreams that were yet to come. One day, he thought, I shall sit here when I am a lot older and reminisce about my youth. And that old song began to flood John Michael’s head as he began to silently sing:

Once upon a time there was a tavern/Where we used to raise a glass or two/Remember how we laughed away the hours/And dreamed of all the things we would do/Those were the days my friend/We thought they’d never end/We’d sing and dance forever and a day/We’d live the life we choose/We’d fight and never lose/For we were young and sure to have our way

John Michael sighed remembering the words. Who knows, there surely would come a day when he’d raise a pint and sing out loud those very words: Dreams of things yet to come.

In the last couple of years at seminary, John Michael befriended Waynsford Carlson Tippet of the Tippet Lines fortune. He too was enthusiastic to serve the church and both of them become close companions.

Both entered the seminary fresh faced and eager to meet their goal. Waynsford, WC to his friends, was a gregarious individual, full of life and mischief. This endeared him to John Michael as he too had this devilish inclination to blindly rush into situations without a care in the world.

At Christmas, John Michael would invite WC to celebrate the holidays with his family and at Easter, John Michael would join the week-end with WC at his family’s retreat off Long Island and spend Easter Sunday watching and walking in the Easter Parade up 5th Avenue.

It was a time of innocence.

The days flowed by into weeks and months and the study was intense. Church ethics was prominent and liturgy was stuffed into memorization. John Michael loved all the essence of what he learned and couldn’t wait for the day he would don his collar and begin his quest for a more meaningful world.

His good friend wasn’t too far behind in his studies. They would become the real life dynamic duo; John Michael would muse in his thoughts of such contemplation. Together they would bring the word of the Lord to a still dysfunctional world.

As they both sat in the library foraging over old texts, John Michael swung around biting on his pen between his teeth and looked at WC.

You know what? John Michael whispered as he moved closer to his friend. All of a sudden, I don’t like calling you WC. It reminds of a wash closet, you know a washroom? It sounds a bit pissy.

WC laughed. I’ve heard that before. So what would you like to call me, so long as it’s not late for dinner?

How about Wacky?

WC contemplated the proposed new name John Michael wanted to impose upon him. WC shook his head. I agree. It sort of fits. Wacky it is.

Thus the name filtered down amongst everyone in the seminary and WC was now semi-officially Wacky. The name however didn’t sit well with his other friends and family. It wasn’t proper for a soon to be ordained priest to be called Wacky. What would the parishioners think? Father Wacky? Not much of a confidence builder. Soon the name lost its luster and everyone reverted back to just old WC.

WC and John Michael shared a small apartment a block away from the seminary. Not much of a place to bring friends to but it served its purpose for the only time they spent there was for sleeping.

The two years that they both applied themselves in their studies were quickly coming to an end. Soon they would become the shepherd to lead their own flock.

It was on that day that John Michael searched for WC. Where could he be? He wondered. He hadn’t seen him in the building, and it was Sunday and time for prayers. It was strange that WC would miss prayers. So unlike him, John Michael thought as he continued with his search.

Maybe he was sick in bed? John Michael decided to check the apartment.

As John Michael opened the apartment door, he shouted out, Doctor John Michael is here to operate on WC’s poor sickly body.

John Michael opened WC’s bedroom door. There on the bed was WC in the clutches of another man; both naked.

What in heaven’s name is going on here? John Michael screamed. John Michael’s face became flushed with horror and anger.

You. John Michael screamed at the other man. Get out of here, now.

The man jumped out of bed in all his nakedness, grabbed his clothes from the floor and ran out of the apartment, fitting each piece of his clothing with each step he took.

WC sat up on the bed and began to cry uncontrollably. Please John Michael. Don’t judge me. He cried out as tears streamed down his face.

Don’t judge you? John Michael was shaking. The Lord God will judge you. You are an abomination.

But we are friends. WC cried out.

Friends? John Michael cried with a wrath he never knew he possessed. You are not my friend. You are an aberration, a person to be scorned. You will leave my presence. Pack up what you have and go, leave here, leave the seminary, leave the priesthood, never to return. You sicken me.

John Michael left the bedroom to the loud wailings of WC pleading for forgiveness. John Michael ran out of the apartment and out of the building, and ran down the street screaming at the top of his lungs. People on the street thought he was a mad man and moved out of his way.

Waynsford Carlson Tippet was gone: Gone from the apartment, gone from the seminary and gone from John Michael’s life.

Chapter 3

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I t was the day. His Excellency The Most Reverend Bishop William Straughan came from Boston to the seminary to lay his hand on John Michael, making him a newly inducted priest.

The good Bishop had befriended the Morgans when they had attended his church when he was a young priest not too long out of the seminary. The young priest took an immediate liking to John Michael and his persistent questions.

The growing up years watching John Michael develop meant a great deal to the then Father Bill, William Philip Straughan, whose family had moved down to the Boston area in the late nineteen twenties from Toronto.

William the eldest of four boys, always had first choice in what direction he wanted to develop. Whatever money the family could earn, went to his education. Upon his shoulders rested the future fate of the family. It was hoped he would choose some profession that would make his fortune to help put the other boys through school.

When William decided the priesthood was for him, his parents were naturally pleased that a Catholic boy would choose the Church, but also disappointed. Not much money tending the flock. But the Straughans plodded on in the hope one of the other boys would somehow make it big.

It was not to be. The second eldest, Sean was killed in a motor vehicle accident, the third son Patrick ended up on the wrong side of the law and the youngest Brent couldn’t keep a job no matter how hard he tried. He tried different schemes which kept failing.

Father Bill was ambitious. Being a mere priest was not what he envisioned for himself for the rest of his life. The upper echelon of Church power brought many gratuitous offerings. The power and the trappings of wealth was his determination to achieve.

He pushed to be included in the stationing at the Vatican, where he could be noticed. And father Bill, made every use of his time there until the Holy See took notice of this American cleric.

The years spent at the Vatican bore fruit and upon returning to America, he was made a Bishop by no less than the Pontiff himself.

Bishop Straughan now enjoyed the refinery and trappings of being amongst the politically powerful and wealthy. Many came to him for his advice which he gave graciously but not without some favor in return. Patrick was now having it a bit easier behind bars. The investment in William was finally paying off.

Bishop Straughan was not one to just take being someone of importance within the Church and do nothing with his time. He threw himself into the world of high finance and made a great deal of money for the Church. Because of his effort, the Church treasury was bursting at the seams and whatever extravagance the good Bishop indulged in was overlooked. He had become the money man and the Church elders loved him.

Bishop Straughan brought John Michael up from his kneeling position and held him fast. Well my newly inducted priest, what say you of your future plans?

John Michael smiled at his old friend and mentor. To serve God.

Bishop Straughan smiled at his protégé. Well said my young friend. And so you shall. You are to be installed as the new pastor at The Lady of Good Heart in Forest Hills where you will perform the Sacraments, celebrate the Eucharist and perform the seven corporal works of mercy as you have been taught; but I have plans for you my friend. There is a future waiting for you in Mother Church.

Wouldn’t I be more useful serving my flock in the fields of the Lord? John Michael bowed his head slightly in humility to the Bishop.

Bishop Straughan laughed as he gently slapped John Michael on the back. Yes John Michael. You will do all that my humble friend, but you have talent the Church needs. We will send you where you are needed the most.

I will obey. John Michael conceded to His Excellency the Bishop.

It was a warm sunny spring day as John Michael looked up at the edifice before him of The Lady of Good Heart, economically right in the middle of Boston’s elite. He was now their pastor. Normally he would have had to do servitude in the boondoggles until the day when he would have grown some grey hairs before tackling such a congregation. But this was now his dominion to command and command he was determined to do.

With his morning prayers behind him, he now waited for the faithful to enter for their turn at prayer and to listen to his sermon, his first.

John Michael was nervous. Not the perspiring or lack of confidence nervousness. Just the wonderment of leading his very own congregation nervousness. He wondered how the congregants would accept this very young priest. They were used to an older and more distinguished prelate leading them in Sabbath prayers.

As the organ brought forth the starting hymn, John Michael calmly advised what page to turn to and began to sing. He waited for others to join in and when no one followed, John Michael quickly looked about and noticed that no one had prayer books. No one had thought of filling the pews with the proper books.

John Michael burst out laughing and motioned everyone to sit down. A portion of the chapel was filled, mostly women with their young and a spattering of older men.

My friends. John Michael started off. It seems that the Lord is not ready to hear your angelic voices this morning.

Everyone began to laugh nervously not knowing what to expect from this young priest.

Have no fear. I have it in with our Lord. He expects all of you to go to the back of the chapel and pick up a book. John Michael looked over the congregants and smiled. Now would be a good time. He motioned them to move from their seats.

As they began to move to the back and pick up a prayer book, he could hear the people converse with one another that this was a first and somewhat enjoyable start with this new priest.

After everyone was seated, John Michael stood in the center of the pulpit, stretching his arms out toward the congregants as if trying to embrace all of them. Why don’t we do something different? We’ll sing our hymns later. Why don’t we have a nice friendly talk? You want to get to know me and I want to get to know you. I’ll start off. I’m Father John Michael Morgan and I’m just out of the seminary and I am going to need your help. Does anyone out there want to help me so that I can help you?

An elderly lady near the front stood up. I’m Carol Ryan and I’ve been coming to this church for some thirty years. I’m also old enough to be your grandmother. Do you think your old enough to give me a blessing?

May I call you Carol? John Michael waited for affirmation then continued. I’m neither young nor old. In the eyes of the Lord I am His messenger and your priest. Age is but a matter of years. God’s age is infinite as is His message. I am but His instrument and if I am but His instrument, then the blessing that I may invoke upon you is His blessing and not mine.

Good answer my young priest. Praised Carol Ryan. At last the diocese sent us a good looking as well as a bright young man. It’s about time. I like your spunk.Everyone hesitantly began to clap and voice their approval.

John Michael waited on the steps leading out of the Church. Everyone came and shook his hand enthusiastically.

The next Sunday, the house was full. Word had gotten around that they had someone quite special as their priest and everyone just had to see what this young man was all about. They weren’t disappointed.

The message each week was clear and precise. God was the Father and Jesus brought His word to each and everyone one of us.

John Michael didn’t just sit upon his throne each week. He walked amongst his parishioners giving his hand to those who would take it. They loved it. He was a hand on person and even the men reached out to touch him and the women waited patiently for him to touch them, for some, spiritually, for others, physically. He was different; there was a sense of something special about him.

The children were enthralled as he demonstrated his passion for Christ. They too imagined themselves as priests. The word spread quickly of this unusual priest and how he delivered the word.

As the weeks past, John Michael became more at ease with his congregants. He was now on a first name basis with most and many began to call on him for spiritual guidance and advice. Even confessions were becoming the norm and some were quite provocative in nature. He would warn them of their sinful ways and should they continue, he could no longer grant them absolution. A few Hail Mary were given as penance which pleased the confessors.

So, how has the first month gone? John Michael’s mother enquired as he was visiting his parents.

It’s as if I’ve been doing this all my life. He answered. You and Pop have been my guiding light and without your support, I couldn’t even be doing this.

Belinda Morgan smiled at remembering her first words as she held him in her arms. This here be my little priest. Have you seen your sisters lately?

John Michael’s face frowned. I’ve just been so busy with my congregants, I haven’t had the time.

You’re a priest now. Don’t start making excuses. His mother admonished John Michael. Family comes first. The Lord and your congregants have to wait their turn.

I’m sorry Ma. I promise to make an effort and go see them. John Michael felt guilty. He would give out sound advice to those who needed it, but he couldn’t even give himself some good advice when it came to his personal feelings and obligations.

His sisters, Margaret the eldest, Susan the second and then Patricia had fawned over John Michael as he was growing up and had protected him from any adversity he would encounter on the playground or even at school.

Margaret was like another mother to him. She was old enough to even wash and diaper him. John Michael loved and adored his sisters, but his all encompassing passion for the Church had eaten its way into any free time he may have had, or that was the excuse he told himself. His mother was right. From now on, he would make free time, no matter what.

Margaret was married with two wonderful children, a girl and a boy, while Susan was expecting her first child in a few months.

Patricia was engaged to be married within the month and John Michael was to perform the marriage ceremony at his Church. He was proud that he would be marrying off his sister.

Margaret and Susan married into wealthy Catholic families in the Boston area while Patricia had snagged one of the sons of Senator Ian Fitzgerald of Massachusetts. All did well for themselves.

The girls however didn’t need to be only a wife of some man. Margaret was a family physician with a tremendous practice in Boston, while Susan was now a junior partner with the law firm of Benedict, Carlson and Schwartz LLP.

Patricia was a journalist seen every night on WBNT reading out the news and had the highest rating in all of Massachusetts. She was a celebrity and was even rumored to be considered as anchor for the network in New York.

The children of Thomas and Belinda Morgan did well for themselves and made their parents proud.

Patricia’s wedding brought out all the known celebrities of Massachusetts and New York society. Patricia’s reputation transcended state borders.

The Governor of Massachusetts was present as well as His Eminence Cardinal Alexander accompanied by Bishop Straughan who all filed into The Lady of Good Heart Church along with the other three hundred invited guests.

The cameras were ready to record this special event for one of their own at WBNT. It was now a production worthy of a made for TV movie of the week only this was live and would be watched by most of the people of the State.

John Michael stood resplendent in his cleric robe, beaming at the event where he would marry his sister to his soon to be brother–in law, Barry Fitzgerald.

The organ sounded up and the procession began with five tuxedo clad ushers walking single file down the aisle soon to end up standing shoulder to shoulder to the right of John Michael. Senator and Mrs. Fitzgerald came down and stopped at the centre and turned to the entrance. Their handsome son then entered almost jauntily bouncing down the aisle to where his parents took him by the arm and led him to the altar.

John Michael’s adorable five year old niece Hillary slowly strode down the aisle gently throwing rose petals to each side. Then the bride maids, each quite beautiful as bridesmaids usually are, quickly followed to take their places.

Thomas and Belinda entered, waving to those they knew as they took their turn at the predetermined spot to wait for the bride.

To the string sound of Canon in D, Patricia came into view as all the guests turned to lead her down the aisle with their eyes. She was beautiful, not because she was a bride, but she exuded her warmth and her beauty that beamed forth from her face.

Patricia and Barry kneeled before John Michael as he began the wedding ceremony. In Latin he recited the blessing of good fortune for the couple, sprinkled holy water on them and spoke from his heart at having the honor to marry his beloved sister to this wonderful man he had gotten to know. He gave the final blessing and benediction and it was over.

John Michael took Patricia by the arm and helped her up then embraced her. I’m so happy. He whispered to her. May you and Barry enjoy a life of happiness."

Patricia kissed her brother on the cheek. Thank you baby brother. Then she and Barry walked together up the aisle as Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald.

As John Michael was in conversation with one of his parishioners someone caught hold of his arm. John Michael turned about to see Bishop Straughan.

John Michael. Bishop Straughan still held onto his arm. May I present His Eminence The Very Reverend Charles Montgomery Cardinal Alexander.

John Michael took the Cardinal’s outstretched hand, bowed and kissed the ring on his right hand. It is a great honor Your Eminence.

The Cardinal looked John Michael up and down examining what he saw before him. His Excellency has told me a great deal about you Father. I like what I’ve seen.

The Bishop is most kind and generous. John Michael spoke with deep humility. I’m but a young priest trying his best to help those who need whatever help I can give them.

Cardinal Alexander smiled at this young priest. You will come and visit with me, Father. I need to know more about you. Phone my office and make arrangements.

Cardinal Alexander and Bishop Straughan moved about meeting others who held high office in the community.

My son. Thomas Morgan slapped his son on the back. You certainly are getting to meet the right people.

Pop. John Michael took hold of his father’s hand. In my line of work, you get to meet all types from all elements of society. A Bishop and a Cardinal are no big deal.

Spoken like a true humble priest. Thomas Morgan laughed. Do you think I’ll live long enough to see my son as a Cardinal or even…. he looked about to make sure no one was listening. Pope?

John Michael laughed. Pop. We mustn’t even think like that. I’m just a priest and let’s leave it at that.

Right son. Right. Smiled Thomas Morgan. We’ll just leave it at that.

It was an enjoyable wedding party. John Michael danced with the bride, and with his other sisters, which he hadn’t done in ages. Aside from meeting the upper echelon of the Boston elite, he was now on a name basis with a prince of the Church. His fortune within the Church hierarchy was now established and he felt it bode well for him.

Mr. & Mrs. Barry Fitzgerald were off to Ireland and Europe on their honeymoon. Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Morgan slipped back to their large home in Forest Hills, Margaret and Susan accompanied by their spouses, children and child to be, where no were to be found and John Michael, alone, went silently back to his vocation, being a priest for his congregants.

There’s a meeting of the board at seven-thirty this evening. Cautioned John Michael’s secretary, Edith. They emphasized that they would like you to attend. In other words, Father, it’s not a request but a demand.

What’s it all about? Enquired John Michael not overly concerned by Edith’s proclamation.

Got me? Exclaimed Edith. The boys want to play boss man. They used to do this to our previous pastor, Father McGillivray. It used to scare the hell out of him when he had to appear before the board, excuse the language.

John Michael smiled. Well, I don’t think I have enough of hell to be scared out of me. Where’s it to be held?

Basement board room. They had old Crocket, our custodian set up the chairs and tables. Frankly Father, since you have to be there, why not get those penny pinching so and sos to reach in their pockets and pay for someone to help old Crocket. He should have retired ten years ago.

I’ll see what I can do. John Michael tried to assure Edith.

Why do we have to have a board of directors? Asked Edith. No other parish has one?

Nor should there be. I’m afraid you’ll have to ask the diocese. Said John Michael. What I understand is some years back, this old lady was falling apart and needed business men to keep it going without getting into debt and reaching into the pockets of old Mother Church. These men wanted to act as a board of directors for this one and only church and since they kept the church solvent, the diocese allowed that there be a board here for as long as they wished and we’ll just have to live with it, won’t we Edith?

Edith just shrugged her shoulders and left the room.

Sam Mitchell was the perennial chairman of this band of brothers as each took their accustomed seats. John Michael sat in the reserved seat for guests, or more appropriately, the hot seat. The long departed Father McGillivray use to occupy this seat with frequency as the boys would grill him relentlessly about the lack of parishioners occupying the pews on a Sunday morning. The poor man was out of his wits after the grilling he had to sit through in abject silence. It appeared it was time for John Michael to get his dues as the new vicar.

Sam Mitchell banged his gavel and the murmuring ceased immediately. Sam was a stickler for obedience to the chairman and he got it. The meeting will come to order. He ordered.

Agnes Meriwether was the recording secretary for some twenty years and the only woman to be present at a board meeting. She took the attendance, sent out notices and pretty well did everything on the board, except run it. Agnes was commonly known as a spinster. Never married but came close once. Her fifty-four years looked well on her. Her other job was as a vice-president of the Meriwether Department Store chain and knew and did hard nose business with many of the seated occupiers on the board.

After the preliminary taking of attendance and reading of the last minutes, the meeting was shifted to John Michael.

Tell me Father. Sam Mitchell started off. What are your objectives to the future of our church?

The