“Three. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”
“They have to squeeze in tight,” Horse grinned with his ugly horse teeth, and he took the white stuff he had been picking from them and wiped it on his pants.
“The ghost,” Bones said secretly, “the holy ghoooooo-st.”
Father Byrnes went on to discuss the difference between mortal and venial sins. His explanation was very simple, and in a way frightful. Venial sins were small sins, like saying bad words or not going to the Stations of the Cross during Lent. If you died with a venial sin on your soul you could not enter heaven until the sin was absolved by prayers or rosaries or masses from your family on earth. But if you died with a mortal sin on your soul you could never enter heaven. Never. It was frightening to think of missing mass on Sunday, then dying, and for that one mortal sin to go to hell forever.
“If you die with a venial sin on your soul, where do you go?” he asked.
“To Purgatory,” Rita answered. The girls always knew the exact answers. I knew most of the answers but I never raised my hand, because I often wanted to ask questions and I knew it would displease father if I did. Really, the only one who ever asked any questions was Florence, and today he was doing penance.
“That’s right, Rita,” he smiled. “And what is Purgatory?”
“Purga,” Abel whispered. The boys giggled.
“I know! I know!” Agnes waved enthusiastically and father smiled. “It’s a place where souls are cleaned so they can go to heaven!”
“And if you die with a mortal sin on your soul?” he asked, and his voice was cold. The church seemed to shudder from a blast of wind outside, and when it settled a side door opened and an old lady dressed in black hobbled up the side aisle to the altar of the Virgin. She lighted one of the candles in a red glass and then she knelt to pray.
“Hell!” Ida gasped, sucking in her breath.
The father nodded. “And is there any escape from hell?” he raised his finger. We nodded no in silence. “No!” he shouted and slapped his hands so we all jumped in our seats. “There is no hope in hell! Hell is the place of eternal damnation! The fires of hell burn forever and ever—”
“Forever and ever,” Agnes said thoughtfully.
“For eternity!” Father Byrnes said emphatically. He reached under his frock and pulled out a tattered, well-worn copy of the catechism book. He hardly ever used it because he knew it by heart, but now he fumbled through and pointed. “Look there on page seventeen. Eternity. What does the word eternity mean?”
We turned to page seventeen. “Forever,” Agnes said.
“Without end,” Rita shuddered.
“About twenty years,” Bones growled. He hadn’t raised his hand and he made everyone laugh so he had to go up to Father Byrnes and hold out his hands, palms up. Father Byrnes took the flat board he kept for such occasions and laid into Bones. One swat of the board was enough to blister the palms, but Bones didn’t seem to feel it. He nodded happily and said, “Thank you father,” then came back to sit down. I saw the old woman at the Virgin’s altar turn and nod approvingly when she saw Father Byrnes strike Bones.
“Now I’m going to tell you a story that will teach you how long eternity lasts. Now, keep in mind, this is how long your soul will be burning in hell if you die with the black spots of mortal sins on it. First, try to imagine our whole country is a mountain of sand. A mountain of sand so high that it reaches to the clouds, and so wide that it stretches from one ocean to the other—”
“Gee whiz!” Abel’s eyes opened wide. Horse, sensing something he could not understand, began to get nervous. Bones rolled his eyes. We all waited patiently for father’s story to develop, because we knew he had a way of telling stories that very clearly illustrated the point he wanted to make. I thought of Florence holding his arms outstretched for eternity.
“Now, suppose across the ocean there is a flat country. The ocean is very wide and it takes weeks to cross it, right. But you want to move this huge mountain of sand from here to there—”
“Get a boat!” Horse nodded nervously.
“No, no, Horse,” Father Byrnes groaned, “keep quiet! Listen! Now girls,” he turned to them, “how long do you think it would take to move this mountain of sand, all the way across the ocean, until you have the mountain over there and an empty place here?” Several hands went up, but he only smiled and relished his question. “Ah, ah, ah,” he grinned, “before you answer, let me tell you how you have to move that enormous mountain of sand. And it’s not with a boat like Horse says—” Everyone laughed. “A little bird, a sparrow, is going to move that mountain for you. And the sparrow can only hold one little grain of sand in its beak. It has to pick up only one grain of sand, fly all the way across the wide ocean, put down the grain of sand, then fly all the way back for another grain of sand. It takes the little bird weeks just to fly across the ocean, and each time it carries only one grain of sand—”