In the Beginning: THE KNIGHTS OF SPRING LAKE SERIES

By Stephen G. Kenny

Thirteen-year-old David O’Rourke is living an uneventful life in sleepy Spring Lake until Father Eli arrives. David is deemed a fledgling modern-day knight, and at Father Eli’s request, he and his classmate, Jon Clark, are chosen to embark on a quest to find a missing chalice that holds great importance to Father Eli and the Church.
Together, David and Jon unravel mysteries hidden in plain sight to complete their mission. Under the tutelage of Father Eli and Police Chief Mike Trout, they learn more about their own purposes, their roles as sons and brothers, and their divine destinies. They also become aware of an invisible power that makes all things possible.



“WOW! Steve Kenny takes us on a fast-paced thriller that is at once a fresh look at a coming-of-age story that finds manhood in virtue and goodness instead of drugs and sex. This book is a call to arms for Catholics everywhere who feel their families besieged by our culture, and an almost poetic idyll on the beautiful seaside town of Spring Lake, all wrapped within a mysterious page-turner that will leave you on the edge of your seat to its glorious last page. A triumphant debut!”
- Steve Auth, Author, Pilgrimage to the Museum and Missionary of Wall Street.

“In the Beginning is a redeeming story that captivates the reader while highlighting the Catholic faith in a positive light. This is a great read for young people or anyone who enjoys novels about virtue, heroism, and faith.”
- Everett Fritz, Catholic Speaker and Author, Founder of Andrew Ministries.

“A beautiful story, set in a quiet Jersey Shore community, that reveals how young people see and respond in today’s world. We experience their growth through the lens of wonder and discovery. The reader witnesses the positive influence of a good Catholic priest and is reminded of a beautiful Catholic Church that many have forgotten. The reader will be immersed in the Church’s beauty while being formed by its teachings.
I strongly recommend this book to families, especially those who desire to grow together in their faith.”
- Mario Costabile, Founder and Executive Director, Array of Hope.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jun 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9781664296480

Stephen G. Kenny

Steve Kenny is a husband, father of four, and grandfather of six and counting. After a successful Wall Street career, he became a teacher of theology and honors English, and a lacrosse coach, at St. Joseph Regional High School. He taught CCD (Religious Education) for thirty years to students preparing for Confirmation. He is also founder of Shore Catholics, a nonprofit organization dedicated to building faith at home and in communities.

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Copyright © 2023 Stephen G. Kenny.

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except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Scripture quotations are from the ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard

Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good

News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved. The ESV text may

not be quoted in any publication made available to the public by a Creative

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ISBN: 978-1-6642-9646-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-9647-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-9648-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023905944

WestBow Press rev. date: 06/06/2023

Acknowledgements

This book is dedicated to my mom, Anne M. Kenny (nee O’Brien). She always believed I could, and should, be a writer. She is turning 90 as I write this, so Happy Birthday, Mom. I must also acknowledge my dad, Stephen J. Kenny. He would have loved Spring Lake, and he would have continued to be a great model of manly virtue. RIP, Pop.

I must also thank my beautiful bride, Sheila. She continues to believe in me even when I do not believe in myself. Je t’aime!

This book is for our children, nieces and nephews, their spouses, and their children. I pray you all persevere in faith and continue to strive to live virtuous lives. Be heroic! Be saints!

Finally, I thank almighty God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. I am eternally grateful for Your creation, love, patience, and mercy. I am also grateful for the more inspired and learned people You have revealed to me. These include, Rusty Reno and the contributors at First Things, Anthony Esolen, Mary Eberstadt, Father James Schall, John Wooden, Matthew Kelly and Dynamic Catholic, Dr. Tim Gray and the Augustine Institute, Bear Bryant, Shakespeare, The Odyssey, The Catholic Thing, Crisis Magazine, Ellis, Ben, Anonymous, Presentation Ministries, Troop of St. George, Fraternus, Mark Twain, Father Mike Schmitz and Ascension Press, Father Dave Swantek, Father Dave Pivonka and Wildgoose TV, Chris Stefanick and Real Life Catholic, CS Lewis, GK Chesterton, JRR Tolkien, John Stonestreet and the Colson Center, Heroic Men, St. John Paul II, Prager University, the young men of SJR and Glen Rock HS, Jordan Peterson, and Brian Burch and Catholic Vote. There are so many more. Thank you!

Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

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

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Prologue

The church bells struck three, reverberating through the vaulted arches of the empty chapel. David opened his eyes once he regained control of his breathing. He was seated on the ground with his back against the marble column. He took an inventory of his various aches and contusions and decided there was no serious damage. He bowed his head and remained still as he became aware of the sound of hail pelting the dome high above. A flash of light and a peal of thunder drew his eyes to the stained glass behind the altar, through which an eerie reddish light cast an ominous glow in the sanctuary. He rose.

There is no greater love, he said to himself as he gazed at the crucifix over the altar one last time.

David genuflected; adjusted his belt and breastplate; picked up his helmet, shield, and sword; and strode confidently toward the doors that led back outside. He paused at the exit and stared at the glass cabinet that held relics and memories from the historic church. In the glass he could see his reflection. Looking at his six-foot-two chiseled self, his long, blond-streaked hair, and his somewhat bruised and bloodied visage, he betrayed a reflective smile.

He glanced at the parish bulletin with the date June 2, 2024.

How has it come to this? he thought as he adjusted his glasses and put on his helmet. In the beginning, it was not so, he said as he took a deep breath.

He pushed open the doors and stepped back into the breach.

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1

I think that guy’s in trouble, David said to himself.

David was on his surfboard, about thirty yards from the Spring Lake beach, and he could see a swimmer who was getting nowhere as he tried to bodysurf to shore. It was nearing six in the evening, and there were no lifeguards since the official summer season of 2019 was still weeks away.

David looked back and saw a promising swell, but he hesitated and turned his attention back to the guy in the water. The middle-aged man was now farther from home than when he’d started, and he seemed to be floating out on an invisible current.

Riptide, David thought.

David put his belly on his board and started paddling in the man’s direction, not quite sure what he was getting into. As he got closer, he heard a voice behind him.

You see that guy too?

David turned his head and said, Yeah, I think he’s in a riptide.

The other voice got closer. I think so too.

David saw a Wild Child PU board glide up next to him, and while he quickly checked out the board, there was a moment of recognition.

Hey, Jon, David said, recognizing his classmate from school. While they hung with different crowds and had different interests, they sometimes saw each other on the water. David didn’t know Jon well, but he remembered that he enjoyed being in his religious education class, referred to as CCD, last year.

Jon smiled and said, Hey! How you doing, David?

Better than this guy, David replied while motioning at the now fast-floating swimmer. What do you think?

I dunno. You have an idea?

He’s a lot bigger than us, and he might be scared and get in a panic, so why don’t we paddle closer and calm him down? I’ll hitch a ride on your board, and we’ll give him mine to hold on to.

Sounds like a plan, Jon said.

They maneuvered closer, and David called out, You all right?

The man gave a thumbs-up and said, OK so far. He took a breath. A little tired.

He was bobbing up and down in the waves but was far enough away from shore to be out of the grip of the riptide. The man was not panicking, and that helped David and Jon stay calm as well. The issue now was going to be getting him back in while dealing with waves big enough to be surfable, a strong current, and jetties of jagged rock that defined the boundaries of the surfing-only section of the beach. As a bonus, Jon could see the riptide that had carried him out was doing what riptides do—diverting to a path parallel to the beach before dissipating. They were all moving south toward one of the jetties.

Here, David said. I’m gonna push my board to you. Think you can get on it?

The man nodded.

Let’s do this, David said as he pushed the board toward him.

David may have pushed a bit too hard, and with his momentum, he lost his grip on Jon’s board. He flailed a bit as he lost his connection to the board and his sense of direction.

Jon saw David was in trouble. As an experienced surfer and swimmer, he confidently got off his board and held it with one arm as he reached for David with his other. He let David take the front position, and he got on the back.

The man struggled to get up on David’s board as Jon yelled, Go, go, go! He and David started paddling hard toward open water to avoid the fast-closing rocks. David glanced back and saw the man was now on the board and, after a slow start, was also paddling to get outside the jetty.

Come on, David! Jon yelled as the combination of current and swells was making it hard to clear the rocks. At almost the same moment, Jon screamed, Ahhh! The rocks cut my leg!

David continued to paddle furiously, and after a couple of tense seconds, they were clear of the jetty and soon in calmer waters. David looked at the gash on Jon’s leg and said, It’s not too bad.

Maybe, but now we’re shark bait. Keep paddling!

Jon was not kidding. One of the fun facts about this idyllic seashore town of Spring Lake was that in 1916, a great white shark killed a man right off this beach and at other spots at the Jersey Shore as well. The book and movie Jaws was based on those attacks. Every Spring Lake kid knew this because the town played the movie on the beach every Labor Day weekend and the mayor told everyone about Spring Lake’s real-life contribution to the tale.

They were soon able to relax as they let the now muted waves on this side of the jetty take them peacefully to the beach. They looked back and saw that their victim had also cleared the jetty and was following close behind. As they looked, the man yelled, Thank you!

Jon turned to David as they climbed out of the water and asked, Isn’t that Mr. Gabriel, our old CCD teacher?

Yeah, I think it is, David replied. That’s really weird.

Mr. Gabriel got to the beach, handed David his board, and said, Hello, boys. Mr. Gabriel put his hands on his knees and rested a moment. He was still panting and a bit out of breath. He inhaled deeply, stood up tall, and said, Wow, who would have thought this is how we’d meet again! He shook their hands. Thank you, Jon. Thank you, David. You guys really came through.

Yeah, I’m glad we were here, Jon said.

I guess you remember we were in your class, David said. You always said to just do the next right thing.

"That was the Australian guy on the videos," Jon said, exaggerating the adjective with a terrible Aussie accent.

Well, anyway, David continued, I guess you taught us well.

Maybe, Mr. Gabriel said while pondering the thought. I am sure that your parents had a lot more to do with it.

Before the boys had a chance to say anything else, Mr. Gabriel reached out and shook their hands once more. Thanks again, boys. I’m pretty tired, so I’m going to head home.

As the man walked away, Jon yelled, Next time maybe stick to the pool, Mr. Gabriel!

Mr. Gabriel kept walking but reached both arms over his head and gave a double thumbs-up.

Boy, that was a dumb thing to say, Jon said. It just came out.

No, you’re fine. If I remember from class, he probably expects something like that from you, David said and flashed his mischievous smile.

Jon chuckled.

The boys grabbed their boards and headed to the boardwalk and their bikes.

Whatever happened to Mr. Gabriel? David asked.

I don’t know. I heard he doesn’t teach CCD anymore.

He was a good guy.

Yeah, I guess, Jon said.

Jon and David shielded their eyes from the setting sun as they headed up the stairs to the boardwalk. Each had on his wet suit with the top half pulled down to the waist, a board under his arm, wet, salty, and disheveled hair. David had a sense of having done something special.

Well done, lads, came the voice of a man on the boardwalk.

They squinted and could see a figure at the top of the stairs. He appeared to be wearing all black, but they could not see his face since it was overwhelmed by the brightness of the sun, which was directly behind him.

Thanks, David said, but it was no big deal.

I disagree, the man replied. There is no greater love, said the Lord, than to lay down one’s life for a friend.

They were now at the top of the stairs, but the brilliance of the setting sun continued to outshine their ability to see his face, showing only that he was wearing a long, sleek black robe and sandals.

Not your normal Spring Lake boardwalk attire, David thought.

Well, we didn’t lay down our lives, Jon said. We just laid down our boards."

And he’s not our friend, David said. Then, remembering the connection, he added, But we did know him from CCD class.

The man stepped to the side, and now the boys could see him in full, including his priest collar.

I’m Father Eli, he said as he offered his hand.

You’re a priest! David said as he shook his hand.

Duh, Jon muttered as he also shook Father Eli’s hand.

I am, Father Eli said.

Are you at St. Catharine’s? Jon asked. We go to church there.

Sometimes, David whispered playfully.

Jon gave David a quick, wide-eyed, disapproving look that said, Whoa, not in front of the priest. David again flashed his mischievous smile.

Father Eli replied, The order to which I belong has asked me to come to Spring Lake. I am not sure how long I will be here, but I like it already. As he began to walk west off the boardwalk, pointing at the lake that gave the town its name and the beautiful dome of St. Catharine Church on its southwest shore, he asked, Are you heading this way?

The boys nodded as they loaded their boards onto their beach cruisers.

Great! Father Eli said. Come walk with me awhile.

After securing their boards to their respective racks, they unchained their bikes and walked with Father Eli. He asked a lot of questions about their interests, school, family, the town, the church, sports, and music. Reaching the base of the lake, Father Eli asked the boys which way they were going. They pointed to the road that headed west along the lake’s southern banks. He said he was heading up the north side and said goodbye. Before he departed, he asked, Are you familiar with the Bible? The book of Genesis?

Like, ‘In the beginning’? David asked.

And Adam and Eve? Jon added.

Exactly. It is the story of God’s creation, Father Eli began, and in it, we learned about paradise, the garden of Eden, the home of Adam and Eve, the home of the Tree of Knowledge …

Apple tree! Jon exclaimed.

David and Father looked at him with bemusement.

I saw it in a picture, he added.

Well, Father Eli said, it was located at the juncture of four bodies of water. It was also the place where the first battle between good and evil took place.

The serpent, Jon said.

Right, Father said. Anyway, I couldn’t help but notice that where we are standing is bordered by Wreck Pond to the south, Lake Como to the north, the Atlantic Ocean to the east, and your Spring Lake to the west.

So? Jon asked.

So four bodies of water define this peaceful, beautiful enclave.

The boys turned to each other and shrugged.

Until we meet again, Father said with a wave.

As he departed, the sun once again illuminated and obscured him, and as he walked away, David and Jon looked at the sun that was now nestling gently behind the dome of St. Catharine’s. The alignment projected a shimmering reflection of the dome on the glistening surface of Spring Lake, its cross on the top elongated from the late-day sun. The church bells enhanced the mood, playing America the Beautiful, which they did every evening at 6:00 p.m.

Not a bad place to live, David said.

You mean not a bad place to die! Those bells mean I’m thirty minutes late for dinner! Jon called as he hopped on his bike and started pedaling home. Maybe I’ll see you around, Dave.

I have a feeling you will, David said with a touch of anticipation.

David also started to pedal home. He lived in Spring Lake Heights, or the Heights, as the locals called it. Standing a whopping twenty-three feet above sea level, no one really understood the name. The Heights began about a half mile from the Atlantic Ocean, the line of demarcation from Spring Lake proper being the New Jersey Transit railroad tracks. The Heights was home to many young families, attracted to its affordable postwar houses and quiet, kid-friendly streets. Proximity to a world-class beach was also a draw, and as David’s dad liked to remind people, it was ranked as the twenty-eighth best place to live in New Jersey by New Jersey Monthly magazine.

Spring Lake itself took its name from the eponymous spring-fed lake, which began about a hundred yards from the railroad station and ended about a half mile to the east about a hundred yards from the ocean. It was a sliver of a lake, barely a hundred yards wide at its widest point, and less than fifty for most. The town itself was idyllic, beginning with the lake, which was surrounded by a park buffer that allowed for a delightful mile-and-a-half stroll around its shores. It was aptly named Divine Park. The lake was traversed by two gracefully arching wooden bridges, which the town lit up with white lights at Christmastime. At the midpoint of the northeast side, at the foot of the Third Avenue business district, stood an enormous flagpole flying a well-lit and equally impressive American flag.

David loved living in the Heights, and he knew how lucky he was to be able to ride his bike into and through Spring Lake with such ease. He may not have appreciated, or known, about the history and architecture that had been so carefully preserved, but he did know that something about it moved him. Its beauty, he once said, trying to explain it to his mom while not trying to sound too mushy.

Now it was time to hustle. Minutes earlier, the setting sun was bouncing off the lake like a Disney light show. That sublime scene had now given way to some ominous clouds beginning to gather from the west. The dark thunderheads looked foreboding as they moved in, erasing the artistry that David had been enjoying, replacing its peaceful colors and light with increasing shadow and dark. He was familiar with these fast-forming storms, and he pedaled accordingly. As he got into his driveway and pushed into the garage, a flash of light and a loud clap of thunder startled him.

Weird day, he thought. He opened the door to the house and hit the button to close the garage as the rain came down in a deluge.

2

It was lunchtime, and Jon sauntered to his normal table. As an eighth grader, he had dress-down privileges, so he was wearing his Quiksilver board shorts and long-sleeved tee. He stopped and for a moment was frozen and confused. The heavy rains from the previous day had come through part of the school’s hundred-year-old ceiling, and one of the lunch tables had to be removed for the cleanup and repair. That table was Jon’s normal spot. He observed that his usual tablemates had already split up and were randomly dispersed throughout the cafeteria. Every man for himself, he thought. When it came down to a choice between food and friends, boys would always choose the food.

As he passed one table, a now familiar voice called out, Yo! What happened to that leg? Shaving accident?

Everyone turned to look at Jon, and he lowered his gaze to David, who gave him a broad grin.

Jon surveyed the table sheepishly, but then David broke the tension by saying, Come on, Jon—sit with us.

Jon nodded as he claimed a chair across from David.

So, seriously, how’s your leg?

It’s fine, Jon said. My mom put some peroxide on it and a bandage, and it really isn’t that bad. He fiddled with the bandage and added, But she sure asked a lot of questions about how I got it and the whole thing with Mr. Gabriel. What did your parents say?