The Cardinal and the Crook

“Father, please come to my office immediately.”

His heart began to beat rapidly as he immediately thought about his sons.

“What is it, Sister? Did something happen to the boys?”

“The boys are safe, but they have been in a fistfight.”

“A fight? Oh my! I’ll be right there.”

Father Pat rushed to the school. When he got to the office, he saw his two sons and another boy— Tommy Smith—sitting in the hallway. Johnny looked like he had been crying. James was red-faced and appeared angry and embarrassed. Tommy looked like he also had been crying and was holding a tissue to his bloodied nose.

Father Pat simply looked at each boy with concern and confusion but did not say anything. He walked into Sister Dorothea’s office, where both she and Sister Annette were waiting. He asked what had happened, and Sister Annette explained.

“It was recess, and I was on the other side of the playground when I heard a lot of yelling going on. I rushed over and saw Jimmy on top of Tommy, beating the daylights out of him. Johnny kept saying, ‘I’m sorry, Jimmy—please stop!’ It took all my strength to pull James off Tommy. Once I was able to separate them, I marched the three of them into the office, and then we called you.”

Father Pat remembered his statement to Frank Palmer eleven years before about children not coming with instructions. This is one of those times, isn’t it, Frank? he thought to himself. I really could use an instruction manual right about now.

Father Pat stared at the ceiling for a moment in silent prayer and then turned to Sister Annette. “Please bring the three boys into the office, Sister.” When the boys arrived, he spoke in a low, serious tone. “Which one of you is going to explain what happened today?”

There was dead silence for several seconds, and then Johnny spoke up.

“It was my fault, Father Pat. I caused the fight.” He spoke haltingly, and his eyes darted nervously from his father to the other two boys.

Father Pat’s brows furrowed. Hadn’t James been the one doing the fighting? How could it have been John’s fault? But before he could ask John what he meant, James spoke up.

“It wasn’t your fault, Johnny; it was mine. I’m the one who got mad and started hitting Tommy. I—”

Before James could finish his sentence, Tommy interrupted. “No, Father Pat—it wasn’t Johnny or Jimmy who caused the fight. Please, please don’t punish them! It was my fault. I said something . . . something terrible to Johnny, and it upset him. He told Jimmy what I said, and I deserved what I got.”

The priest and the two nuns looked at each other with both astonishment and relief. Father Pat thought to himself that the Holy Spirit was guiding this resolution, but he was curious about what Tommy had said.

He placed his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, looked directly into his eyes, and said, “What you just said took a lot of courage, Tommy. I’m curious as to why you are stepping up and taking the blame for what happened.”

Tommy hesitated, looking at the other two boys, and then began to explain. “I . . . I think I was jealous. Johnny is always telling the rest of us how great you are to have as a father. He has talked about all the stuff you guys and Father Jason do together—the hikes, the movies, the games you play, the books you read.” Something about Tommy’s expression darkened. His gaze dropped to his feet. “I don’t have that kind of relationship with my dad. Don’t get me wrong, he’s always good to me, and I love him . . . but with running his own business, he’s hardly ever around. We aren’t able to do any of the things that the four of you do together. I was especially disappointed this past weekend. My dad and I were supposed to go on a fishing trip together. We had planned it for weeks. Then, on Saturday morning, just before we were going to leave, he got a call from his plant manager. There was some problem, and he had to cancel our fishing trip. So, when Johnny started talking about the great weekend you had, I just lashed out and said something terrible.”

Father Pat realized how difficult this admission was for Tommy. He asked Tommy what he had said that upset Johnny.

“I said that their mother didn’t love them, and . . . that was why she left them.”

Father Pat couldn’t stop his intake of breath. Sister Dorothea’s lips flattened into a hard line, while Sister Annette brought a hand to her mouth, as though silencing a cry. It was a hurtful thing to say, no doubt about it, but . . .

He’d known this day would come. Eventually. And as painful as this incident was, he was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

Tommy’s eyes filled with genuine tears. “I am so sorry . . . so very sorry! Please,” he added, glancing at the twins beside him, “please forgive me, Jimmy and Johnny. That was so wrong of me to do. I was feeling hurt, and I took it out on you.”

 James immediately turned to the other boy, stuck out his hand, and said, “I’m really sorry, Tommy. I let my temper get the best of me.”

“I’m sorry, too, Tommy,” added John. “I shouldn’t be bragging so much.” Then, turning to his father, he asked, “Father Pat, would it be all right if Tommy came on the next hike with us?”

Father Pat, whose heart was bursting with pride at the way his sons had responded, answered, “I think that would be a marvelous idea!” From that point on, Tommy would often join them on their weekend adventures. After a friendly conversation initiated by Father Pat, Tommy’s father frequently participated in their activities.