Turning Points
Life is a journey. It has a beginning and it has an end. All along its path are events, places
and people who are turning points. Here, I relate some of these turning points in my own
journey. Hopefully, the stories will illuminate and maybe entertain some of those who care
enough to read.
Life is a journey. It has a beginning and it has an end. All along its path are events, places
and people who are turning points. Here, I relate some of these turning points in my own
journey. Hopefully, the stories will illuminate and maybe entertain some of those who care
enough to read.
| Father Gettlefinger March 31, 2006 |
Before Vatican II the Church was both a pillar of moral
authority as well as an institution of mystery. Church
services were in Latin accompanied with incense and
much formality. The mass was conducted by the priest and
the altar boys who exchanged Latin prayers. I was one of
these altar boys at St. Catherine's Church in New Haven, Ky.
Serving as an altar boy at mass began with assisting the
priest in donning his vestments in a process that was
carried out in the chamber adjacent to the altar. Then the
altar boy would light the candles at the altar. During the
mass he assisted the priest in serving communion.
authority as well as an institution of mystery. Church
services were in Latin accompanied with incense and
much formality. The mass was conducted by the priest and
the altar boys who exchanged Latin prayers. I was one of
these altar boys at St. Catherine's Church in New Haven, Ky.
Serving as an altar boy at mass began with assisting the
priest in donning his vestments in a process that was
carried out in the chamber adjacent to the altar. Then the
altar boy would light the candles at the altar. During the
mass he assisted the priest in serving communion.
Photo courtesy of T. Cecil, Mayor of New Haven
The mass was chanted in Latin by the priest and required Latin responses from the altar boy.
Being an altar boy meant memorizing the Latin prayers, obtaining a black cassock and white
surplice. It took several weeks of training and a commitment to be on time for the service.
Performance of the duties of an altar boy at St. Catherine’s Church in New Haven was a serious
matter indeed, especially if the officiating priest that day happened to be Father Fred J.
Gettlefinger, the parish priest.
Father Gettlefinger was a mid-fifties, white headed parish priest of the old school. Of stern
Germanic ancestry, he viewed himself as keeper of the town morals and used the Sunday pulpit
to excoriate the sinners of the community including my father and his cronies who spent Sunday
afternoons playing poker at the downtown Knights of Columbus hall. Mama didn’t like Father
Gettlefinger who had no truck with any who missed a Sunday mass, no matter that getting eight
kids ready for the walk to church by 8:30 could be a bit of a challenge.
Father Gettlefinger railed from the pulpit against the stealing of fruit from trees by the likes of Barry
Rogers and me, or the overturning of tombstones. He once even established a schedule of
monetary fines for such infractions. I don't think he collected much as there weren't too many of us
who turned ourselves in.
The church rectory was home for Father Gettlefinger along with his housekeeper and also his
assistant, Father Hardesty. Father Hardesty was a young, beer drinking priest with the gut to show
it and wasn’t much inclined to the dictatorial authority of his superior. One night when returning
home late from wherever he had gone (maybe drinking beer with the guys) he found the door of
the rectory locked and no response to his knocking from the disapproving Father Gettlefinger.
Father Hardesty discovered the biblical promise, "Knock and it shall be opened unto you." didn't
seem to work.
So, being over 200 pounds, he just broke the door down.
| Copyright © 2005 leoshoemaker.com |
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| And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28 KJV) |
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