A JEW AND I SERVE CHRIST THE LORD (AND THE POPE)
William A. Wisdom

I don't remember the exact year, but it was in the spring of one of my college years, so I imagine that it was around 1955. I can't say where I was in my spiritual pilgrimage from Fundamentalism to Atheism.

My friend and classmate Burt Meisner and I had gone to New York City to see the sights. Perhaps is was during spring break. It happened to be on Palm Sunday, though we didn't know that. We found ourselves on Fifth Avenue around Fiftieth Street. Without realizing that this was that particularly holy day in the Christian calendar, we saw we were near St. Patrick's Cathedral, and decided to stop in to see what if anything was going on.

What was going on? Everything was going on! Hundreds upon hundreds of the faithful packed the huge and gorgeous church, celebrating Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem a few days before His crucifixion. Bells were ringing, and incense wafting, and folks genuflecting and crossing themselves, and priests chanting, and choirs singing, and Christ's Body being distributed and consumed.

As we loitered near the rear, feeling rather out of place but caught up in the majesty of the ceremony, we were approached by what I would have guessed was an undertaker, but turned out to be the Head Usher. "Listen, fellows," he said. We're short of ushers today, and we wondered if you'd give us a hand." We had no idea what "giving a hand" on such an occasion might mean; but eager to participate, we agreed. (He probably figured that, because we were idle, we might as well make ourselves useful.)

It was simple. We were each given a huge collection basket at the end of a long pole, and told to start of the front of this aisle here and work our way back, Burt on one side and me on the other. We undertook our chore with gusto, though the baskets became increasingly heavy as we neared the back of the cathedral. In any event, we'd done our service to the Lord and to the Pope.

As we proceeded to find open seats near the back, the undertaker called to us: "Wait a second, boys. You're not finished." Another collection? No; this time we were going to give each person along our aisle what they'd just paid good money for. We each got a huge armload of palms, and were told to distribute them along the same route as before, a couple to each worshipper. This task we undertook not just with gusto but with undisguised joy. Imagine the scene: a Jew and a Protestant (or ex-Protestant) fulfilling one of the most sacred duties of a Roman Catholic layperson. It was literally awe-inspiring!

Copyright © 2006, William A. Wisdom