Story written on a train · Apr 24, 11:26 PM by Scott McNulty
The collar suited Bryan Rourke, at least that’s what people said. Ever since he was a toddler Bryan knew that he wanted to be a priest.
While the other kids were off playing doctor, or tag, Bryan was consecrating Triscuits and Pepsi. The body and blood of Christ never tasted so good.
Adolescence brought the normal changed to Bryan’s life. Hair grew where there was no hair before, and he started to notice the most beautiful of all God’s creatures: women.
Soon the walls of Bryan’s room were filled with posters of Mother Teresa, Mary Magdalene (such a tease!) and St. Anne. It was plain to see that Bryan was a special young man.
His parents were slightly worried about his undying love for all thins Roman Catholic; they were Jewish after-all. Couldn’t Bryan just become a Rabbi? That way he could still preach the way of God, and dance the horah. Isn’t that what spirituality was all about?
Bryan would have none of it. God had spoken to him and shown him the Way, there wasn’t a yarmelke to be seen.
Next came college, and the then the seminary. The Church was desperate for new blood and gladly accepted Bryan into the fold. He was the only of his class to receive 3 sacraments in one day (baptism, first communion, and penance), which of course lead to his nickname: Trifecta.
The day of Bryan ordainment was the happiest of his life. His father and mother were proud, and just slightly bewildered by the whole thing. Bryan’s father just sighed and said, ‘Eh, kids today. It could have been worse… at least he isn’t a Buddhist.’
Soon Bryan, or should we say Father Rourke, found himself in the pulpit giving his first sermon, or homily as the Catholics call them. Looking at the crowded church Bryan felt his first pang of uncertainty. If this is truly what God wanted him to do then He could possibly let Bryan get stage-fright, right?
All of the carefully prepared words left Bryan’s mind. All he could think about were the eyes of his parishioners looking at him, waiting for him to explain some section of the New Testament to them.
A cough broke the silence, but it was quickly lost in the cavernous emptiness of the Church’s upper stories.
Bryan spoke. If you asked him later why he said what he said, and many people did just that, he would simply smile and reply, ‘The Lord finds a way.’
At the pulpit Bryan cleared his throat and solemnly intoned, ‘I put the Jew in Jesus.’
