"Morning, Tommy."
The portly tonsured man, seated at the crystal kitchen table, glanced up from reading the newspaper at the man who had addressed him. "Good morning, Frankie."
Frankie smiled. Everyone else around here called him Francis, except for Tommy. Just as he was the only one who called the angelic Dominican "Tommy".
Frankie poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across from Tommy. He cocked his head a bit to see beneath the dog-eared corner of the newspaper clutched in Tommy's thick hands.
"USA Today, huh?" he remarked. "Didn't think they delivered here."
"I dispatched Gabriel to retrieve this morning's issue," he explained. "Although I do wish these journals were published in Latin. For old time's sake."
Frankie sipped from his porcelain mug, when Tommy let out a sudden shout of surprise, causing Frankie to splutter coffee across the table.
"Tommy! What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, while wiping the droplets off the surface with the sleeve of his brown habit.
Tommy lowered the paper and gazed at his breakfast table companion, "Please pardon that unexpected outburst, my Franciscan friend. But it appears that we have been duped."
"Duped? How so?"
"According to this article, Americans claiming to be Catholic believe that you can disagree with Church teachings and still call yourself Catholic!"
Frankie blinked hard, several times, before replying. "What? All of them?"
"Nearly so. 86 percent believe it."
"Are you sure they were talking to Catholics?" Frankie asked.
"Fair point. It is the USA Today after all. But I believe it is safe to presume that yes, those being polled were indeed Catholic." Tommy raised the newspaper, shielding his face. "There's more. Listen - 'The survey, a comprehensive look at the beliefs and practices of 1,442 U.S. Catholic adults, also finds that 86% say "you can disagree with aspects of church teachings and still remain loyal to the church." Only about 30% support the "teaching authority claimed by the Vatican." And 40% say you can be a good Catholic without believing that in Mass, the bread and wine really become the body and blood of Christ — a core doctrine of Catholicism.' "
Frankie bowed his head and stared into his coffee cup, turning it slowly in his hands.
Tommy read on. "And if you aren't depressed enough yet, let me add that 67% said that helping the poor is most important to them."
Frankie's frail shoulders slumped. Tommy folded the newspaper and laid it on the table. They sat in silence for several moments; Frankie stared into his swirling steaming coffee, and Tommy tapped his finger pensively onto the table, his face tight as a drum.
Taking a deep breath, Tommy started. "Objection 1..."
Frankie held up his hand, still gazing into his mug. "Don't, Tommy. No Summa." Tommy closed his mouth.
Sighing heavily, Frankie looked at his friend. "So all those years of poverty. The fasting. The preaching and the sacrifices. Apparently I didn't have to be all in. I only needed to give 67%."
Tommy nodded. "I always knew my writings were straw. I poured my heart and mind and strength into my work, and as it turns out, I didn't need to do that. I could have been a good Catholic by attending Mass once every three weeks. I could have prayed half as much, and still ended up here."
Frankie continued. "And the stigmata. What was the point of that?"
"And to think I endured imprisonment at the hands of my own family for my faith," Tommy added. "As I look back, that was so unnecessary."
"Tommy, you are so right - we were duped."
Tommy and Frankie's eyes met. A nearly imperceptible twinkle flashed between them, and then ear-to-ear smiles cracked their beaming faces. Laughter filled the kitchen, and Tommy smacked the table with his meaty palm, causing some of Frankie's coffee to slosh out of its cup.
"Ha ha!" Tommy chortled. "I believe you laughed first!"
"Not on your life," Frankie countered. "Although I almost lost it when you said 'Objection 1'."
Tommy's expansive frame shook as his laughing subsided. "Okay then. I humbly concede defeat. One day, however, I will outlast your stoic demeanor and outright win a match of 'Partial Faith Poker'."
"Never. All those years of practice, that's why I always win." Frankie raised the cup to his lips, and before drinking, he shook his head and added, "Silly Americans. Part-time Catholics indeed. What was it that you once wrote - there is no such thing as partial faith - there is either total faith or no faith?"
"Yes, extremely true. One cannot extract a stone from an arch and expect the structure to remain strong and standing. To be clear, I find no amusement at their waywardness - after all, the sacrileges committed against our Savior's Sacred Heart are indeed very grievous."
"And to our Lady's Immaculate Heart as well," Frankie interjected.
"True, true," Tommy agreed. "However, it is amusing, in a sense, that one can profess to be Catholic while disagreeing with parts of Church teaching. While disregarding the pontiff. While supporting same-sex marriage...or abortion. There is such disjunction between their beliefs and their actions, one wonders if they're thinking at all! And how is it possible for them to maintain composure when they make such claims? I believe I would laugh to their faces at such blatant displays of ignorance! Charitably, of course."
"Of course," Frankie agreed. "To be fair, Tommy - it's not just Americans. It's like that in every country down there."
Tommy nodded. "Our Savior did wonder if He would find faith on Earth upon His second coming. His word, when sent out, does not return empty." He pushed away from the table and picked up his paper while getting to his feet. "And nor do our intercessions. Hurry up and finish your coffee, Frankie - the 14% need our help. They need strength to remain faithful amidst such faithlessness. To be a light in the darkness. To forge ahead on the narrow path. To show others the way to joy, peace and happiness."
Frankie drained his cup and stood up. "Right behind you, big guy. And the 86%?"
"God save them."
Instant "Acts"ess
