Tale from a Rhino House: the 3 brothers

The story of the mother.

She was neither a good daughter of the Church nor was she a bad person. She went to Mass at Easter & Christmas & she went to confess her sins at the end of every year to an old priest who was half-deaf & usually drunk; every year he told her to say 3 Paternosters & sent her on her way happy in the knowledge that she was starting the New Year with a clean sheet.

Maria lived in a small town close to the border, she took in laundry, served beers & home-brewed tequila in a small, illegal drinking house hidden from the main drag behind an old auto scrap yard on the edge of town. When the tips were bad or there was no laundry she slept with the truckers who sometimes called at the bar on their way across the border.

Maria was 35 & she looked 50, she worked every day & every evening, sometimes she drank a little too much at the bar & she sometimes fucked for money to buy food or pay-off the Immigration Officials who lived like mosquitos off the blood of the illegals who made up the bulk of the town’s casual workers (& sometimes she just fucked to ease the loneliness of her nights).

She died when a drunken truck driver beat her to death in the little room where she “entertained” when times were hard; her three sons were behind a curtain in the room, warned to silence by their mother who never quite understood why the customers were so put-off to see her “little angels” in the room.

That was the story & sum of Maria’s life

Maria’s three sons were called, Ramone, Diego & Paris (the last after an evening with a trucker who had hauled-in from Texas & who Maria had rather liked, even when he stiffed her $10 for some fairly kinky stuff).

The children’s stories.

The children were taken in by the Church & raised in a small orphanage a few miles to the North & as they grew their lives began to take on the shapes they would show as men later in life.

Ramone, the eldest, never forgot how the Church had taken them in & sheltered them. Every day he went into the basilica & kneeled before the great wall paintings & the altar. By the time he was 12 it was clear that his love of God would take him into the seminary & from there to the priesthood.

Diego, the second son, was a dutiful boy & studied hard to understand the rules & laws that the priests in the orphanage set down, best to save his soul from damnation & to speed his mother from purgatory to her final rest. Many of the priests & teachers in the orphanage felt sure he would become a lawyer or a teacher, & all were sure that would remain a good son of the Church for all of his days.

Paris, the youngest son, was disappointment to the staff at the orphanage, he stole from the collection plate & drank the communion wine unless it was securely locked-away (& sometimes he managed it even then). He stole, he whored & eventually he was expelled, to live a live of misery, separated from the love of God & the Church, amongst the scum of the streets.

The lives of the men.

Ramone’s love of God grew deeper with every passing year & he passed through the seminary & into the priesthood without surprise or comment. In the fullness of time his deep devotion was recognized by those around him & he was appointed Bishop in one of the large industrial cities in the West. At the time of his death, some 30 years after his mother’s, he was already being spoken of a future Archbishop, maybe even a Cardinal. He was much missed by all who knew him & his funeral was splendid & attended by many Princes from the Church’s hierarchy overseas.

Diego, to the mild surprise of his teachers, did not train for the law but joined the Society of Jesus, first as a lay member, then later as an ordained priest. His knowledge of liturgical & canon law were unrivaled, but in keeping with the rules of his chosen Order he declined any & all posts in the hierarchy of the Church. Everybody who knew him agreed that his love of the Church was unequalled, as was his humility & deep understanding of its practices & laws. He died at the same time as his brother Ramone, & his service was attended by members of his Order from around the world who mourned his death & the loss to the Church.

Paris, the youngest son, lived in the squalor, dirt & poverty of the same small town where his mother had lived, worked & died. He never went inside the church but regularly spent the night in the town’s jail for being drunk, or petty theft or fighting, or any one of a thousand reasons that he seemed able to generate from thin air. He died 5 minutes after his brothers & was buried in a pauper’s grave without a headstone or memorial of any sort. Nobody came to his funeral & the officiating priest (paid for by the township – $5) managed to complete the entire service in the time it took for grave diggers to drink only one beer.

Afterwards.

The three brothers were standing alongside each other in a simple room lit with natural light from a large window set high in a wall. Behind them was a large crowd, facing them was the Son of God, smiling.

Jesus approached Ramon & said to him, “Tell me your life.”

Ramone knelt & said simply, “I loved God all my life & I tried to show by example & leadership that this love was the need & the duty of the people.”

Jesus kissed Ramone upon the head & told him, “You have served God & the Church well & your place now is among the elect of Heaven.”

Ramone was led from the room through a grand archway & escorted by a great crowd.

Jesus next approached Diego & said to him, “Tell me your life.”

Diego sank to his knees & said to Jesus, “Lord, I loved the Church & I tried to show the justice & beauty of its laws & rituals to all people so that they might better come to understand God’s will.”

Jesus knelt & kissed Diego’s feet & told him, “The Church was wiser for your efforts & more people came to understand their purpose because of your work. You also will now be among the elect.”

Diego leaves through the arch, accompanied by a throng of well-wishers.

Now only Paris & Jesus were left in the room, the crowds have all left with the two brothers.

Jesus smiled at Paris & said to him, “Tell me your life, & tell me why you were late.”

Paris didn’t kneel but shrugged his shoulders & said, “I loved my life, I loved the whores & the thieves, the addicts & the pushers & the homeless & the damned. This was my life, & fuck you if you don’t care for it, it was my life, not yours, & I lived every minute of it to the full. I was not a good man, but I never stole from a poor man & I never hit a man who didn’t want to hurt me first. I never married but I made a lot of women happy & my children will go on if I am there for them or no. And if you must know I was late because I was drinking a beer in bed with a beautiful woman & listening to a song on the radio.”

The Son of God walked towards Paris & put His arm around his shoulder.

“You’re my kind of guy,” He said, “Let’s go out & party.”