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| On A Sunday Sidewalk... | Started by: Giovanni_Domingo on Dec 09, '07 11:03 |
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Sunday Mass concluded, Giovanni Domingo descended the steps of St. Joseph's Cathedral, his spirit temporarily cleansed, his mind as fresh as his charcoal suit, purchased just two days ago. The congregation had been comprised primarily of women and children, but until he found a lady who would pray for him, he would have to save his soul himself. Reaching the foot of the steps, he placed his black derby hat upon his head and turned to gaze upward at the great building, the broad stained glass windows magnificent, depicting the baby Jesus, his mother, Mary, and the namesake of the church. He was uncertain whether he would return next Sunday; the last time he had heard the church bells was when they solemnly tolled at his father's funeral. Sure, Domingo prayed, but even rarer than his appearances at St. Joseph's were the number of times he had sat in the confessional. It was a difficult thing, contemplating Heaven and Hell. Some people were convinced they would receive a spot in Paradise, while others, mindful of their deeds, resigned themselves to no illusion, and were prepared for eternal damnation. But while he believed in salvation, Domingo found difficulty with the topic of today's sermon: forgiveness. While forgiveness came easily when it was a trivial matter in question - a waitress serving him the wrong dish, a motorist cutting him off in traffic, or a shoe-shine boy dawdling when he should be polishing - it was not so easy to overlook other actions, considering the lifestyle he and many others led. The eye-for-an-eye philosophy of the underworld was in stark contradiction to ideas of forgiving trespasses and loving one's neighbour, and Domingo found himself wrestling between the two takes on life. With the Cathedral towering over him, Domingo wondered if anyone else felt the same... Oh! He had been bumped into by someone in passing, but was quick to assume fault for it, offering an explanation for remaining stationary in the sea of parishioners. My apologies... I was just reflecting on the sermon. Interesting, wasn't it? |
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She\'d expected an \'excuse me\' or \'watch where you\'re going\', rather than an invitation to his philosophical musings. Still the question ate at her and though she had indeed been reflecting on the day\'s sermon, it was most likely not in a way that he had anticipated. Church had always been tradition for her, like visiting her grandmother at Christmas, or calling her father on Saturday afternoons. Yes, there was some emotional attraction, but primarily she acted out of habit and not of religious affiliation. Faith was for the poor, uneducated masses who didn\'t understand science or reason and clung to supernatural beliefs as children cling to the ideals of Santa Clause and magic. Nikki highly doubted he had wanted to engage her in debate so she smiled and masked her true opinions for the sake of conversation. I found it uplifting and inspiring. I think the Church should be a spiritual cantina where one can fill up on hope and the goodness of connecting with our fellow man. |
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| Reply by: NikkiPhoenix at Dec 09, '07 14:42 | |
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Now if only I could grasp the idea of forgiveness like the Padre spoke of... He chuckled lightly as he spoke. Unlike other figures, Domingo decided against advertising his criminal roots with a turned-up overcoat collar, though he was not entirely sure that the full gravity of his statement had been lost on the young lady before him. She seemed sharp enough, certainly. Tell me, is it just me, or do you find forgiveness a tough blessing to grant? |
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| Reply by: Giovanni_Domingo at Dec 09, '07 15:47 | |
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I think forgiveness, much like beauty is subjective. She smiled, but her eyes flashed knowingly. It depends completely on who does the forgiving, and who in turn needs forgiveness. In her own mind she wondered about her own mortal forgiveness. As Heaven and Hell were intangible concepts to her, she thought about her own transgressions and who, if anyone could forgive her. Moreso, did she really need or crave forgiveness? No, she decided. Her actions, all of them since she was a child, were deliberate and calculated. She only needed forgiveness and acceptance from herself. |
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| Reply by: NikkiPhoenix at Dec 09, '07 15:56 | |
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Ah, both true points, Signora... Domingo nodded in accordance, turning his hands palm up, but a glint sparked in his eye as he spoke again. But, for argument's sake, are we all not in need of forgiveness? By no means am I trying to preach to you, but I am certain it would be impossible to travel the entire course of one's life without transgression... And by that same flaw of our own, should we not forgive others? Inwardly, Domingo found it mildly amusing to be playing the Devil's advocate on such a topic, but he was eager to hear the young lady's response. |
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| Reply by: Giovanni_Domingo at Dec 09, '07 16:36 | |
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strolling by the grand cathedral and looking up at the beauty of its architecture and stained glass windows, Elaina stopped nearby Nikki and Giovanni, overhearing their discussion. Frowning while she buttoned her coat from the cold and tried in vain to control her hair in the wind, she began to think about their words. She knew a lot of people in their business went to church, donated a lot of money, followed the rites such as baptism and confirmation. She had not been raised to do so and the words of her mother often came to her mind when she passed this place. Her mother had written at length about the lack of forgiveness in herself for herself and the life she had led and that she could not profess belief in the preaching of the gospel when she herself broke so many of the Commandments on a daily basis. Elaina thought about how she, growing up in this world and now on her own was beginning to understand her mother's words. Stepping closer, she looked up into the handsome brown eyes of Giovanni and spoke Forgiveness? I can forgive my personal enemies despite our lifestyle but am bound by loyalty and fidelity to not forgive my family's. As for forgiving myself, I do not see that happening until all the faces in the night, the ones I've harmed or killed or seen harmed or killed without trying to help disappear. Perhaps, when they forgive and disappear, then - only then might I be able to forgive myself. I do not believe that until that day happens could I expect, nor will I seek forgiveness from the higher powers this place represents. With that said, Elaina looked once more behind Giovanni up at the spire with the cross on it, and shaking her head slightly, walked away |
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| Reply by: ElainaDeLuca at Dec 09, '07 17:32 | |
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She smiled, a twinkle in her eye for she truly, truly loved such deep and resolutionless debates. He was goading her forward, exploring her inner depths through the meticulous dissection of her words, and for once she didn\'t mind the scrutiny. Nikki decided to play his game and took his hands and turned on palm up and the other palm down. To the outside observer in the land of the righteous, it would seem that we would all be in need of forgiveness, no? Yet no man that walks the earth lives in such a blameless or holy state. She placed a finger in the hand that was palm up. We lift our hands to the skies and beg forgiveness from an entity who may or may not hear us, but it is our own consciousness that we seek forgiveness from, not from some higher deity. She then placed a finger on the hand that was facing down. Such sermons teach us that if we don\'t raise our hands up and out our transgressions we are doomed to an eternal fellowship with the demons themselves. Gently, she took his hands in hers and placed his together in the traditional prayer clasp. So we continue to pray, and continue to vocalize our innermost dastardly deeds, but to what end? Heavenly salvation on earth is only the appeasement of our own inner guilt. Therefore, if we lead, for better terms, a self-righteous path in which we only check our actions by our own moral compass of right and wrong, and live by our own ideals of the straight an narrow, are we truly in need of forgiveness? Her eyes met his and though the twinkle was gone, her smile remained. I ask forgiveness from no one, except myself. |
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| Reply by: NikkiPhoenix at Dec 09, '07 18:08 | |
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It was disappointing she could not stay longer, but he knew Elaina De Luca to be a busy woman, and considered himself quite lucky that she had paused at all. Nevertheless, he appreciated her input, no matter how brief. As De Luca departed, he allowed Phoenix to control his hands, and he gave her his undivided attention as she delved into her philosophy. She spoke strongly and articulately, arguing as a lawyer would before a panel of jurors, yet a tiny crack, a minute fracture did appear in her case. Domingo composed himself - it would be difficult to provide a rebuttal after such a logical argument - gently clasping her shoulders, he turned Phoenix in a circle until she faced the broad front of the church. With one hand resting lightly upon her shoulder, he made a sweeping gesture towards the gigantic building with his other as he calmly began his response. It was not meant in hostility, but that did not mean Domingo would not point out flaws. Then why did we spend our morning in the same place, Signora? If it is one's moral compass which points the way to righteousness, why be bothered with an irrelevant ceremony? Sitting in an uncomfortable wooden pew to listen to a man in robes drone on about spiritual reconciliation hardly seems to fit the utilitarian argument you have put forth... Yet you made the sign of the cross, professed your faith with the congregation, and received Communion, anyways. My only question is why? Your logic is clear, yet your actions bear contradiction. Pardon my observation, but while you profess that you require neither the forgiveness of your fellow man, nor that of God, clearly, you must be bearing some unpleasant yoke to sit through an entire sermon on the subject. I would have thought your moral compass would be your guide... Domingo lifted his hand from her shoulder, cocking his head to the side as he shrugged his shoulders before holding his hands, palm up, to either side. Or, perhaps, I am simply too nosy for a man you met on a sidewalk. He winked, showing he held no hard feelings despite their differing opinions, though he was prepared to continue to hold his own if she was. |
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| Reply by: Giovanni_Domingo at Dec 09, '07 20:41 | |
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She knew he would ask, and she knew she would have to tell, but even with all her mastery of her thoughts and words, she doubted she\'d be able to explain her point so that he would understand. Nikki still faced the direction that he pointed her, and took in the stained glass window above her. The detail was breathtaking even from the outside, though the sunlight reflected more off the panels from this angle. With only the slightest motion of her head, she allowed her eyes to follow the steep angle of the roof, down the brick facade, and over the grounds to the memorial park where the headstones and crosses stood in rows like a marble orchard. Some practices in life we do in tradition, or out of habit. Some practices we do because we\'ve done all our life without truly knowing why we do it. Much like the presentation of a gift on one\'s birthday. Why do we celebrate the person who did nothing other than emerge from the womb? Wouldn\'t it seem better to congratulate the bearer of life on that day? Perhaps, but out of tradition, though we may not know why, we still give. Every Sunday since I was a little girl, my mother and I would sit in these pews and hear the message. She was so pious, though her fervor never spread. As a young girl, I loathed having to sit here for hours and hear the unwavering masses reply with a chorus of forgotten meaning. I never spoke, but I sat still nonetheless and endured Sundays with the Church. She couldn\'t make out the words on the simple gray cross that marked her mother\'s final resting place but she could see the small monument where she stood. Now that she\'s no longer with us, I still sit among the pews. The message may still be lost on me, but the memories will never miss the target. |
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| Reply by: NikkiPhoenix at Dec 09, '07 22:23 | |
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Removing his black derby hat and holding it against his chest, Domingo felt dreadful for having prodded the young woman with his questioning, unearthing such a painful memory. A terribly lengthy moment of silence passed before he addressed her, his eyes cast downward, his head bowed. Signora, I am sorry for prying. It is not my place to question the remembrance of the dearly departed. The flood of parishioners had dwindled to a trickle as the last to leave the great Cathedral shook the priest's hand at the top of the steps before making their way to their vehicles. Nearby, a man coaxed his automobile to life, and the pair turned away as a cloud of exhaust billowed in the cold air, interrupting their conversation temporarily before the vehicle's white-walled tires left the curb. Turning back to Phoenix, Domingo lifted his gaze from the pavement to her eyes, his words honest, not simply a flimsy attempt to console the bereaved with empty chatter. I admire your strength, though, to return every week, to preserve her memory. |
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| Reply by: Giovanni_Domingo at Dec 10, '07 11:04 | |
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Her eyes showed no sign of remorse, pain or regret and she shook her head slowly to indicate to him that he had committed no foul in continuing their discourse. No, do not say such things. As the parishioners passed, she gestured to them, not pointing out anyone in particular but meaning the group as a whole. They tell me she is in a better place, that she rests with the Father now and is happy beyond any of our most imaginative dreams. But as you know, I don\'t believe in such folklore. What better Heaven is there than the memory of a child\'s love for her mother? My mother may rest for eternity beneath the frozen earth, but she lives on forever here. Nikki placed a hand over her chest, resting it on her heart. Her ungloved hand was cool as it touched her skin, and caused her to shiver slightly. After all, it should be I who apologizes. After all, it was I who paid so little attention to where I was going as to not see you standing here. I do apologize sincerely for my misguided steps, but pardon me if I don\'t apologize for running into you. This time as she smiled, her cheeks raised enough to crinkle her eyes. Though she was young, the crows feet told a tale of someone who smiled often, and smiled genuinely. |
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| Reply by: NikkiPhoenix at Dec 10, '07 11:48 | |
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A polite smile crept outward on Domingo's face as Phoenix punctuated her apology with a compliment. Considering the course their conversation had taken, he was surprised to be hearing such words, and he responded immediately by shuffling his derby hat to his left hand, extending his right as he introduced himself. Giovanni Domingo. And, I assure you, the pleasure of this accidental meeting is entirely mine. |
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| Reply by: Giovanni_Domingo at Dec 10, '07 14:03 | |
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Her hand found his, and she shook it once, lightly as a lady would. Nikola Phoenix, but I would very much prefer Nikki. My Soviet grandmother had a heavy hand in my naming at birth. I just thank my lucky stars that my mother married an American and I wasn\'t duly blessed with a heavy surname as well. Nikola Stroyeshnikov, I think would make me stick out more than an athiest in church. Nikki let go of Giovanni\'s hand and gestured toward the sidewalk. The church was situated on a busy street, and while she herself had walked from her apartment, she surmised that Giovanni either drove or was driven to the sermon this morning. You\'ll have to excuse me if I don\'t recognize you, Mr. Domingo. I\'ve been coming here every Sunday since I could barely see over the pews, but I don\'t think I\'ve ever seen you among the parishioners. |
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| Reply by: NikkiPhoenix at Dec 10, '07 14:28 | |
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Following Phoenix's direction, Domingo began to walk shoulder to shoulder with the young lady along the sidewalk that ran the perimeter of the block the church was situated on. Despite the winter chill, his steps were not hurried, and he offered his explanation for his absence. No, you wouldn't have seen me. This is the first time I have visited St. Joseph's. It's quite remarkable, the Cathedral. The architecture, the stained glass, the ancient baptismal font with its waterfall of Holy water - it all makes for the perfect place to reflect. Domingo only wished that he knew whether he would have another opportunity to visit the Cathedral, again. The current mortality rate for those on the underbelly of society prevented him from making any commitment when the priest inquired if he would be attending Mass the following Sunday. |
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| Reply by: Giovanni_Domingo at Dec 10, '07 19:07 | |
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Its interesting, looking at it through a fresh pair of eyes. Even as a little girl, Nikki had never stopped to admire the sheer beauty of the church, and only today had she really let her gaze linger on the stained glass window. It really had been tradition for her and she almost felt cheated out of the amazement that such artistry and passion could inspire. With a fleeting look over her shoulder, she returned her interest back to Giovanni who continued their walk at a very leisurely pace. Are you new to the city then? |
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| Reply by: NikkiPhoenix at Dec 10, '07 19:22 | |
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Somewhat, yes. In the past I visited here and there, but I seem to have found myself a resident, lately. Tell me, you grew up here? Phoenix had briefly mentioned her Soviet roots, but America was more and more becoming a cultural mosaic. |
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| Reply by: Giovanni_Domingo at Dec 10, '07 21:28 | |
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She nodded, smiling at the fond memories of growing up in the city with her very eccentric family. Yes, my parents and my grandmother all lived in a very small apartment just a few blocks from here. Grandmother spoke little English, and the only thing I really remember her having a grasp on usually came in the form of \"No, Nikola!\" As if she\'d told some inner joke, Nikki laughed softly and watched the sidewalk for a bit while they walked. |
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| Reply by: NikkiPhoenix at Dec 11, '07 00:54 | |
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Domingo laughed politely as he imagined an old lady yelling, "No, Nikola!" as she tended to a vat of borscht. He could sympathize, though, as he had witnessed a spectrum of language skills within the Italian community. There were individuals who took to English straight away, adopting the language of the land immediately, though not necessarily abandoning Italian. Others made an attempt to communicate, but reverted to Italian when their broken English no longer carried the meaning they were trying to convey, splicing the two languages together to create a hybrid. Still others chose a path of isolation and remained rooted in speaking only their native tongue. It was this last group that Domingo felt the most pity for. It was not that they were stupid individuals who were incapable of learning the language - on the contrary, many who spoke only Italian were far brighter than they let on. They simply held no desire whatsoever to integrate themselves with American society, and held their language as soldiers would hold the last remaining fortress, resisting change as an act of cultural defiance. Some called it pride, some called it being stubborn, but those who did not understand called it subversive. Society shunned those who refused to learn, and the barrier grew as those who were outcast, in turn, resented society. Burrowed in a hostile social climate, cultural enclaves formed, with immigrants congregating around their shared ethnicity, compressing themselves into tiny pockets within the cities, living and working shoulder to shoulder with their kinsmen. Domingo and Phoenix reached the corner, and casting a look in either direction, Domingo held his hands to either side. Where to, Signora? |
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| Reply by: Giovanni_Domingo at Dec 11, '07 12:23 | |
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Nikki glanced up at Giovanni, looking only slightly bemused. I really don't know. I hope I'm not keeping you from any appointments. How interesting that such a chance encounter would lead to a pleasant discourse. She sincerely hoped she wasn't interrupting his day - Mr. Domingo certainly looked the part of a man who kept a busy schedule, and their conversation had not been penciled in. Her own schedule was vacant, but it wasn't the availability that made her long for the conversation continue. Nikki rather enjoyed this departure from her normal Sunday activities. |
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| Reply by: NikkiPhoenix at Dec 11, '07 13:08 | |
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