And a Little Child Shall Lead Them
Cynthia Ruff
Issue #2 (April 2008)
The sound of the large church doors closing for the last time was deafening. There was a rattling and clambering on the outside as chains were drawn through the large door handles. It was Sunday morning and the sun was streaming in through the windows. All the candles had been blown out before everyone left and in a few days the utilities would be turned off. It would be quite silent and dark for a long time to come.
Mary, Joseph, Jesus, St. Francis of Assisi, the pipe organ, and the grand piano waited patiently until they heard the last voice fade and the last car drive away. There had been much weeping and crying in the old church today, and they all knew why. The group had been speaking of it and worrying about it for several weeks.
Mary was the first to speak. “It’s over, it’s finally over.” she whispered.
The pipe organ spoke next. “Yes, it’s over alright, over for us. Here we are, like sitting ducks, just waiting for the next move. We don’t know where we’ll be going or how long we’ll be staying here, or even if we’ll get to stay together.”
The grand piano answered, “You know we won’t get to stay together. I heard some people talking. They say we’re all going to be moved to another closed church, and from there we could end up anywhere, and certainly not together.”
Mary interrupted, “They can’t separate us; they just can’t. We’ve been together for so long.” She looked sadly at Joseph and at their son Jesus. “I couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from any of you. I would surely let myself fall and break into a million pieces from the heartbreak of it all.”
The pipe organ heaved a big sigh. “But we’re stuck, we’re just stuck.”
* * * *
For the rest of the afternoon and evening, the little group tried to comfort themselves by singing songs. They tried to keep up their spirits by recalling the wonderful times in the church over these many years. They thought of their feast days and how important they had felt, how everyone had bowed down before them and prayed. They recalled the cleaning teams who had so lovingly dusted them and cared for them over the years. The organ and piano recalled the many times they had been repaired, dusted, celebrated and played, by so many musicians over the years. They recalled the power they had felt, especially on the holidays when there had been large choirs of people singing. Mary recalled the time Joseph was knocked over and broken his arm. A man had come and fixed him without taking him away and made him as good as new. He had even received a new coat of paint. Mary and Joseph recalled all the attention they had received on Christmas Eve. The memories were dense and overwhelming.
* * * *
Exhausted, the group finally fell asleep. Several hours later they were awakened by the sound of someone at the door. Moments later two boys entered the church. It seemed they had nothing but destruction on their minds as they headed towards St. Francis.
“Look at all this old junk they left here.” the one boy commented.
“Yeah, that was kinda stupid.” said the other boy. “I’m gonna knock over that big statue just to see how many pieces it’ll break into.” He rushed towards St. Francis. Immediately, the grand piano slid swiftly across the floor and pinned the boy against the wall. The other boy screamed and ran out. The boy pinned by the piano fainted and fell to the floor. When he awoke, he crawled on his hands and knees across the floor and out the door. The piano laughed as the others applauded.
“Grand piano, what would we do without you?” cried Mary. “You may have saved all of us. You’re our hero.”
“Thank you, my lady. However, what’s going to happen the next time this happens, or when they try to separate us?” the piano questioned. They stood there silently for a few moments and then realized that they had just been given a way out.
The pipe organ noticed it first. “Friends, look! The doors are ajar. We’re free to escape.”
“But where will we go?” asked St. Francis. “They’ll just find us and send us away. We’ll never see each other again.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m so old, and so tired. I don’t know that I even have the strength to consider walking through that door.”
“Buck up, Francis. We need you; we need each other.” the pipe organ said. “Now, we’ve got to put our heads together and come up with a plan before someone discovers the open doors and we get locked back in. We’re in charge of our destiny, and we don’t have a minute to lose.”
* * * *
While the others talked, Jesus slipped outside. He had not been outside in so long; he could not even remember what it was like. He slowly descended the steps and looked up at the night sky. It was a clear and beautiful night. There was a full moon and many stars. He walked slowly down the street reveling in the curiosity of all the sounds. There was music and laughter as he passed one small house and shouting and crying at another. Some houses were silent and boarded up. Jesus thought perhaps they were like the church he lived in. They had been closed also.
Finally, he came to a dense and dark wooded area. He stepped cautiously into it. He stopped and listened. He could hear the rustling of small animals scurrying about to find their nests for the night, owls hooting, and birds cooing. It was peaceful and tranquil. Finally, an idea came to him. He quickly left the woods and raced back to the church.
* * * *
“Oh, Jesus, where have you been?” cried Mary. She ran to him, grabbed him and pressed him to her bosom. She caressed his long hair and wept. “We’ve been looking all over the church for you. We called your name; we looked under pews and behind the altar. We thought you were playing hide and seek. I didn’t want to imagine that you had gone outside, but you did didn’t you?”
Jesus felt ashamed that he had upset his mother especially during these uncertain times. He looked down. “Yes, mother, I’ve been outside all this time.” But then he looked up as he recalled what he had found. “But mother, there was a good reason why God led me outside. It was to find a solution to our problems.”
“Child, what are you talking about?” Joseph sternly asked him. Jesus turned to the others and said, “I think there’s somewhere that we can hide where no one will find us. It’s a wooded area that I found. He looked happily at the uncertain group.
The pipe organ spoke first. “I don’t know. It sounds quite risky.”
The grand piano ignored the organ’s misgivings and turned his attention to the others. “Jesus is right. This could be our only chance. We’ve got to try. It’s now or never.” He stopped, looked at them and waited for a response.
It was Joseph who spoke next. “Piano, you’re right, we’ve got to go, now, while it’s still dark. Once daylight comes, we’ll have to stay hidden until nightfall again. I’m willing to give this a try.” He turned towards Mary and Jesus. “We’re going.” he commanded. “Jesus cheered and clapped his hands, and Francis bowed his head. “Alright, we’ll go.” Francis said. “But before we leave this beloved church that has given us shelter and love for all these years, we must say a prayer, one of thanksgiving and joy for all the memories we’ve come to share here.” They all bowed their heads, and the piano and organ came down on bended legs to show reverence and respect for this once beautiful structure and the many people who had passed through its doors.
* * * *
With a fierce determination the group set out, first slowly and cautiously, then quicker and more confidently as the night hours slipped away.
At the first hint of daylight, they began to move from the street and into the nearby wooded area. There they would spend the day resting and reveling in the excitement that they had done something daring and courageous, and they would find renewed joy in each other’s company.
Mary, always the sensible one, had brought along a bag of cloth. After resting in the mornings, she would awake, and with Jesus and Joseph’s help, they would dust off the pipe organ and grand piano. Francis would spend the afternoons talking with the birds and the deer and settling the arguments that were always taking place between the many creatures they met on their journey.
* * * *
One morning as they were settling in, the pipe organ looked up at the sky. It was cloudy and gray. He began to worry about his pipes. He looked over at the grand piano. He worried about its wood and how the rain could damage it. “Friend, I’m scared. We’ve been traveling for so long. When we began it was spring. We’ve traveled all through the summer, and the weather’s been beautiful. We’ve been lucky. God has been good to us. He’s watched out for us, but soon the seasons will have to change, as they always do. God won’t be able to keep it sunny and dry forever. He has to think of the earth and its needs. The ground needs water, and the trees must lose their leaves to grow new ones in the spring. God is telling us that it’s time we find shelter from the rain and the eventual snow and cold. Grand piano, what should we do? Where should we go?” the pipe organ asked his oldest friend.
The grand piano shook its keyboard sadly. “Friend, I don’t know, I just don’t know. When the trees lose their leaves we’ll be seen by someone. I just hope before that happens, we will have arrived at a safe and nice place where people will take us in and let us be together. I’m kind of tired of just playing for us. I miss the people and the choir.”
“I know, I know,” the organ continued, “but they’re gone. We’ve got to hope that we’ll come across another group who will welcome and need us, and most importantly, keep us together. I wouldn’t have the heart to keep playing without you and the others nearby.”
“Oh, you’re so sweet to say that.” Mary began. She, Joseph and Francis had been watching Jesus playing in a nearby stream. Joseph, however, had noticed something more important and significant.
“Friends,” he began, “We’ve gone as far as we can in the wooded area. In the distance, I only see an open meadow and what looks like a large tent. I say we should go there and take cover until the weather clears.”
* * * *
Not very far from the meadow and tent lived a priest in a small apartment. “God give me the strength and patience to carry out my mission.” he prayed. He tried to sleep, but sleep would not come. Father Michael had been a priest for two years when the bishop asked him to take charge of a new catholic parish that was being built outside the city. There were many Catholics in the area. Closed parishes had displaced many people, and others had recently moved to the area. Father Michael had enthusiastically agreed to take the new parish. Little did he know how challenging it would be.
Committees were formed to decide on a name for the parish and to make decisions on how to best utilize the land. Some people wanted much of the land paved for parking; some wanted sections of the woods cut down; others wanted to fill the pond with dirt.
“Is it right for us to disrupt all of this nature with cement and brick?” the priest asked himself. There were deer in the nearby woods, and geese came each year to rest before flying south. There were fish in the pond.
Ever since he was a boy his favorite saint had been St. Francis of
* * * *
It was a Sunday morning quite early when the little group neared the tent. Mary was the first to have doubts. “Oh, I just don’t know. What if people see us; what if they pick us up and carry us away? We may never even have a chance to say goodbye.”
Francis, who was leading the group, stopped, turned around to face them, and raised his right hand. “Friends,” he began, “we have to be strong.” Mary and Joseph clung to each other and their only child while listening to the saint. “We’ve been put on this earth to serve God and his people. We have to put aside our own selfish needs and think of what we can do to best serve God. Our fate is in his hands. If it’s meant to be that we get separated, then so be it. We’ve got our memories, many years of them. We have to be grateful for that; we have to hang on to that.” He stopped for a moment, then continued. “Let’s pray for a better life. We can’t keep running. Now, let’s go forth to this welcoming tent and settle in. If people come, and surely they will, we will keep a stiff upper lip and be proud of who we are and who we represent.”
He looked to the organ and piano. “The two of you are exquisite instruments, the finest ever made. You’ll play again, someday, in another place and time, and your greatness will live on.” He turned towards Mary, Joseph and Jesus. “And the three of you, you are the Holy Family. You are loved the world over. What you represent is timeless. Wherever you are placed, you will shine forevermore.”
* * * *
With a heavy heart they trudged on and made it under the tent just before the rains came. Mary quickly dusted everyone so that they all sparkled in their own special way. Soon after, people began to arrive. There were small divisions that had been arguing for and against the proposed changes. Many people were not speaking to each other. They continued to head toward the tent, but stopped when they saw the statues, organ and piano.
One man ran forward and began touching them. “How could this be?” he cried. “None of this was here yesterday.” He turned to Father Michael who had just walked up. “Father, look.”
The young priest was just as stunned as everyone when he looked at the collection of objects that had arrived out of nowhere. He stopped, stared, and then turned back to his waiting parishioners. “I don’t know either where all of this came from.” The group stood silently staring.
The priest looked towards the largest statue. Realizing it was St. Francis, he fell to his knees, offered thanksgiving and discovered a wisdom and strength in himself that he had never felt before. He directed the people to quickly come in and take a seat. “Brothers and sisters, we’ve been afforded, just this one time perhaps, a miracle, a chance at a new life, a new parish, and a new way of thinking and feeling.”
The humbled group gathered around their gifts and gave thanks. Several parishioners from the old St. Francis Church recognized the objects, but said nothing to the others. They recalled recent newspaper articles on the mysterious disappearance of the instruments and statues from the old church. It had finally been decided that thieves had broken in and stolen them.
The priest continued, “No matter how we received these gifts, we must take this as a sign. This is a true and real sign that we are the people of God, specifically the people of St. Francis, and therefore we must follow the beliefs of St. Francis.” The priest proclaimed, “This parish will be named after St. Francis of
* * * *
With this last statement all the people in attendance understood that there would be no filling of the pond, no paving of the grass, and no cutting down of any wooded area. The parish would be built with nature’s rocks. It would be a sturdy and large structure that would hold the many that would come here, and never would there be any more talk of disrupting the wildlife in the nearby woods and meadows. The happy group of statues, the pipe organ and grand piano would forever cherish their existence, their togetherness, and their gifts. Even as night fell, there would always be a glow around the objects that could never be explained.
* * * *
In the years to come the parish would thrive and grow to immense proportions as thousands would come to see the miracle of the piano, organ and statues that had come from nowhere to grace this parish. There would forever be harmony and goodwill among the parishioners, and a happy priest would lay his head down at night and sleep a sound sleep.
The End
