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Chapter 18 - An Interesting Sunday

Sunday morning. The alarm went off at its usual time, much to Polly's distress. Even more to her distress, Sheila was up and disgustingly awake.

"C'mon sleepyhead, get up and look at the day the Lord has made." Sheila ordered.

"Mumble, mumble."

"Say that again?"

"I'd better not. The Lord might take it the wrong way on this day He has made."

"Dearest, you know he can read what's in your heart, so it's too late to get away with a minor blasphemy."

"I seem to be getting away with a major blasphemy quite nicely, thank you."

"Don't tell me you're suddenly getting concerned that Polly is not pleasing to the eyes of the Lord, as it were."

"Since I don't talk to Him on a regular basis, I haven't thought to ask, but wouldn't a Baptist be more likely to get excited by crossdressing?"

"Hey, I'm an American Baptist, not one of those Southern Baptists. Most of us figure the Big Guy can handle the way people want to dress without our help."

"You gonna wear your bikini to church, then?"

"Only if you do."

"Then we'll both have to settle for wearing a nice dress this morning.."

"No uniform?"

"Did your brain go to sleep before your body did last night?"

"Probably."

"In a nutshell, Sunday breakfast is a buffet, all we do is set it out on the steam tables and let the guests have at it. That lets Russ and Rose make it to church by 9:30. Since my best friend and their niece Little Rose is sort of obligated to go with them, that means her best friends will go along with her and bow our heads in prayer."

"Wait a minute! I seem to remember they're Catholic."

"Your brain must be resuming operation, you got it the first time."

"So they let heathens like us into a Catholic church?"

"Depends on which of the 47 varieties of Catholic you're talking about. They have even more internal theological disputes than the Southern Baptists."

"I thought the Pope said frog and they all jumped in unison."

"As if any institution that big could do anything in unison. As far as I'm concerned they think Jesus is Lord and that's good enough for me."

"I hate to break it to you, Sheila, but we Unitarians don't all believe Jesus is Lord."

"Then you don't have to worry what Jesus thinks of you wearing a dress. Just get out of that bed and come to church with me like a good girlfriend."

"And I suppose I'll be rewarded in Heaven after I die."

"Which may be sooner than you think if you don't get up."

Despite her sleepy objections, Polly did want to go to church, so she was a good girl and dressed nicely (too bad the blue dress was far too warm to wear on a summer's day) and helped set out the food, then helped some of it be eaten. At Russ' signal they all boarded his battered old van and started on their way.

They hadn't gone half a mile when Russ took his hands off the wheel and crossed himself, while the van crossed the double yellow line and headed for the McKenzie river.

"Russ! Look out!" cried Polly. Strangely, the other passengers took it without any comment.

"Don't worry, Polly. I always cross myself when passing the graveyard. It's a sign of respect."

"Jesus Russ! I don't want to end up a permanent resident of the place." Sheila cried.

"What, the hotel isn't good enough for you?"

"I suppose the rent is cheaper and the work hours shorter, but there's nothing much to do otherwise in a box underground."

"Relax, I've never killed anyone yet."

"Now I know why your van is so dented."

"Russ, you're speeding again," advised Rose.

"Uncle Russ, you don't want to scare off the new girl. Sheila's had time to get used to you, but Polly still needs to develop a tolerance. Try to take the curves on all four wheels, please."

"Everybody's a critic!"

"Think of how much easier Confession will be if you drive sensibly," chided his wife.

The St Benedict Lodge was where Russ and Rose attended services. A retreat center run by the Dominican order, they welcome anyone to their Masses. For Polly, attending a Mass was a new experience.

The building was lovely, but there was no doubt that it was a church. No matter what the faith, any building dedicated to worship was bound to look like a church, no matter what it was called. Any worship service, no matter what the faith, would be at least marginally familiar to anyone who had attended a service before. The details might vary, as would the language, but the form would be at least vaguely familiar.

Thus it was for Polly; someone read from a holy book, someone played an organ, someone led a prayer, someone offered a sermon, almost everybody sang. That the leaders of the service were in robes and unusual headgear was irrelevant; the kneeling and standing was not part of her usual worship service, but so what? The purpose was fulfilled - to draw the participants closer to God.

Despite her misgivings, and her vague unease in appearing before God in disguise, she gradually fell into the proper frame of mind. The words slowly became clearer as her mind cleared. She began to feel that peace that had so often filled her at services in her home church. The details varied, but she felt at home with God.

The homily (which seemed to be what the Catholics called their sermons) concerned Ephesians 2:8-9: For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. So she was God's handiwork. The part of her that is Polly and the part of her that is Pete had both been prepared for her in advance by God Himself, so how could her inmost feelings be wrong?

Did she have that right? Was she reading too much into a simple verse? Yet it felt right. She was still young, so there hadn't been much time to do many good works, but she - or he - had tried to be good and to make the world better in some small way.

That sort of blended with the Scout Oath - On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law; to help other people at all times; to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight. Weren't they both pointing in the same direction? Did her feelings of femininity make any difference in living a good life? Could her feelings of femininity actually enhance the good she could do in her life? Her questions were unresolved at the end of the service, but the feelings of peace and joy remained.

After the service Russ, who was plainly a regular and known to all present, was schmoozing with the priest. Sheila, Little Rose and Big Rose were discussing something with several women, but Polly found herself a bit apart, still considering the deeper questions in her life.

"Welcome to St Benedict's. I hope you enjoyed the Mass."

Standing before her was a rather short older man dressed in the Dominican habit, obviously one of the Brothers here."

"I wasn't sure about coming as I'm not a Catholic, but I can honestly say that I feel better now than when I came. I may still have questions, but I'm glad I came."

"It would be too much to hope that all your questions would be answered so simply, but perhaps it is the work of a lifetime to find those answers. You need not be concerned if it takes time. I'm Michael, by the way. I usually don't worry about titles when talking to someone like this."

"Polly. Polly Zimmerman. My life has changed pretty drastically in the last couple of months and sometimes I get confused."

"Life has a way of doing that, don't you think? I hope the changes have been for the better."

"I think so. I've found new friends and I'm finding parts of myself that I had tried to ignore. I've found love, Yet where I go from here…"

"Ah yes… It's trite to say, but the only constant is change. It sounds like you've made a good start if you are getting to know yourself. Philosophers from Socrates on down have always said something along the lines of 'know yourself.' It's good advice, but often hard to follow."

"So I've found."

"I don't mean to pry, but what is in this change that troubles you?"

Polly was suddenly unsure, this stranger seemed to be someone who had her best interests at heart, and certainly a man of God, but could she trust him? She surprised herself by deciding she could.

"I… I've discovered the strength of the femininity within me. I've discovered what perhaps will be my passion and profession in life. I didn't really know what I wanted to do with my life, I just sort of headed for a liberal arts degree in college because I didn't know what else to do. Then I fell in love quite by accident and with her help I have found the woman within me that I had denied for so long."

"Her?" his eyebrows rose.

"Oops. I suppose that isn't the sort of thing you should say to a priest."

"You're safe, I'm not a priest yet, just deciding if that's the right path for me, even at this late date. So I'm a friar, that's because I'm not big enough to be a roaster."

Fortunately, Polly had learned about chicken sizes in her tutelage with Russ in the kitchen, so she got the joke.

"Not a capon, I hope."

"Although we are celibate, gelding is not a requirement of our order."

"I understand most religious orders have enough of a recruitment problem without that to worry about."

"How very true!"

"I've gone and done it again. Every time I get into a discussion about the changes in my life I get off track pretty quickly."

"Not uncommon, Polly. Difficult topics are often approached tangentially. If you feel uncomfortable we can talk about something else."

"It is a bit uncomfortable, but if I'm going to be true to myself I have to stop hiding from it. Michael, I'm transgendered. I really don't know what your faith thinks of me, but I don't hold to your faith, either."

"I find myself at a loss for words."

"That's better than get thee behind me Satan!"

"The Church has a lot to answer for when I hear things like that. These days it's pretty obvious that we remain fallible men even if we have a religious vocation and took this path to serve the Lord Jesus. I have to tell you that I am conflicted on the subject myself."

"Welcome to the club!"

"The next time a young child asks me why I'm wearing a dress I'm going to remember this conversation. If I call it a habit that's no help as even little children associate the word 'habit' with drugs. And there I go - changing the subject."

"Proving the man in the habit is quite human."

"I would like to think so. I find myself more and more unhappy with the church's position on women as spiritual leaders. I have met far too many women who would be marvelous priests but are living frustrated lives because of - well, I hate to call it misogyny, but if the shoe fits…"

"I've always wondered about that, but since I'm not Catholic…"

"I fear that when it comes to the difference between men and women everybody gets confused. Are you aware of our Congregation for Catholic Education's recent statement on transgendered people?"

"Not really, like I said I'm not a Catholic."

"The Congregation is sort of the policy maker for what we teach in our schools. Their policy was not very encouraging for you, I'm afraid. The title should make that clear - Male and female he created them. And yet… like any large organization everybody does not march in lockstep with the leadership. I suppose our confusion must be much like your own confusion. In the end I hope I will do as Jesus would want me to do, and the Jesus I know was tolerant of human foibles. Please don't think I'm minimizing your struggles to a mere foible, but I tend to take a more open view than many in the Church.

"Not that I've thought a great deal on the matter, but having met you I would have a very hard time telling you that the lovely young woman I've met is a sinner simply for wishing to be a lovely young woman."

"You were right to say I wouldn't resolve this easily, but I do appreciate talking to you. You've given me much to think about."

"As have you, Polly. I do hope you will return once more next Sunday. There's a quote from the bible I would like to share with you where Jesus said: (John 14:27) Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives you. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

"I wish you peace, my friend, and a fulfilling life no matter what your choices may be."

"I could wish you the same. It's been nice to talk to you and try to express what I'm feeling to someone outside the situation."

"Then thank you for your trust. If you ever want someone to talk to, just call me at the St Benedict's. Peace, my friend."

Neither of them knew it at that moment, but that conversation was the start of a long and enduring friendship. Each Sunday during that summer Michael and Polly, often with Sheila, took some time to discuss a myriad of topics, not just gender issues. Even after the summer was over, the two maintained a sporadic correspondence, keeping the friendship alive over the distance that separated them.

Author's Note:

Russ and Rose Russo in this story were inspired by old friends and mentors of the same name in my past, who made a great difference in my young life. They are long gone now, but one of the joys of storytelling is the ability to bring back old friends and introduce them to others. (I pulled the same trick in my story Recovery.)

While he was never an innkeeper, Russ kept a family of nine children fed by selling bread from the back of his very battered van. The real Russ most certainly drove like my fictional version, it was quite an adventure to ride with him. He really did cross himself while passing graveyards.

Rose was the one who taught me how to make real Italian spaghetti sauce, a great boon to my family in the days when it was hard to feed a us all on my pitiful salary. Each fall the cellar was filled with jars of homemade sauce to last us until the tomatoes ripened again. I also have to mention Rose's cannolis and Christmas cookies, the best you'll ever taste.

I discovered a piece about Russ on line a while ago, you can get to know the real Russ Russo at Russ the Baker.