The North Coast times-eagle., December 01, 2001, Page 5, Image 5

PAGE 5
NORTH COAST TIMES E A G L E , DECEMBER 2001
THE PEA CE CA RD!NA L
BY MICHAEL McCUSKER
A dark, thin, intense figure cloaked in the color of blood, his long hands the pale white
of the heavenly host raised in blessing the bulging eyes popped from faces of shock walked
down the long carpet of history toward a railed altar and the beginning of his church
In those long-ago ghostly dust cracked days of repression, when the first hairy unbathed
Christians were the Sunday afternoon entertainment for the predecessors of today's sports
crowd, the frightened followers of the martyr bravely took their gospels to the streets, acting
out their satires and truths in a theater of reality aptly called, in a name that has survived the
centuries and subsequent snowballing tyrannies, guerrilla theater.
And his eminence, Gregoria Cardinelli Chanti, known also as the Pope of Peace (aka
Frenchy), linked himself to the historic chain and walked his lonely walk down the crimson carpet
of Precious Blood Catholic Church, followed by the unseen phantoms of centuries desiccated
wild-eyed men and women of mercy and peace. Startled faces came awake with the crispy
passage and a quiet murmur began to fill the church, the walls of which hid the sun except
through mosaic glass windows. A speechless priest watched in dumbfounded amazement as
he was blessed by the strange apparition clad in robes of a cardinal, a huge crucifix green and
scarred by time chained to his neck, who turned and in a fast, strong voice cracking with emotion
and fear of his act, called the church a false church — and a thousand of the faithful couldn't
believe what was happening before their own eyes. Nothing, absolutely nothing, had prepared
them for this vision, or if you will, for it truly was, this miracle, this triumph of the soul
It was the first Sunday of Advent, two millennia after the birth of the man/God who once
accosted the templars in their once hallowed halls in a time of grotesque perversion similar to
this, and how many have done it since?
It was almost time for communion. The tired priest was winding up his windy sermon to
the bored faithful who were fidgeting in this most laconic time of the Mass, waiting for this thing
to end so they could get back to the real Sunday ritual of football and beer.
In the vestibule, unseen, regaled in the ancient robes redder than a raspberry popsickle,
stood His Eminence, Gregoria Cardinelli Chanti.
It was the First Sunday of Advent, that time of prayer before the coming of the Prince of
Peace.
“As Catholics we have entered into the full week prior to the Christmas of Advent," the
priest said from the pulpit. Funny how all those faces look alike. Smug, gray almost, except for
the women, painted in gaudy colors, renegades of nature where the general rule calls for the
males to strut the plumage to whatever churches birds and lions attend.
Quiet, average, sleepy god-fearing believers tight with their nickels when the baskets
were passed
"...I ask you for your prayers for peace and alms for peace," asked the priest, who was
actually a bishop. His next words choked in his throat, an agony of shock popped his eyes and
dropped the gate of his jaw The sleeping faithful stirred, awakened, and mirrored their priest
Gregoria Cardinelli Chanti had emerged from the vestibule.
He walked toward the altar, blessing the throng. He stopped, genuflected before the
huge crucifix suspended dead center over the altar, rose and passed his blessings in a graceful
sweep of his pale white hand to the priest/bishop.
He then faced the startled congregation, and in a voice ringing throughout the huge
cavern, shouted:
"Hypocrisy! False doctrines! False truths! How can we pray for peace and give alms for
peace when the peoples of the world are engaged in domestic wars and international wars? How
can we also pray for peace and give alms for peace when the Pope himself refuses to intervene
in wars and the causes of wars: poverty, ignorance, intolerance and greed?
"We are to fight — ourselves — for the true preservation of peace and love and not
listen to false words.
"How can we fight for peace when the church itself is splitting into many factions over
the controversy of that beautiful birth control pill and abortion... .?"
That was when the cops came.
They poured in through the front of Precious Blood Catholic Church, the rear and the
windows, rushing the poor lonely figure standing now silent with his hands clasped
It was almost time for communion. The tired priest was winding up his windy sermon to
the bored faithful who were fidgeting in this most laconic time of the Mass, waiting for this thing
to end so they could get back to the real Sunday ritual of football and beer
In the vestibule, unseen, regaled in the ancient robes redder than a raspberry popsickle,
stood His Eminence, Gregoria Cardinelli Chanti.
It was the First Sunday of Advent, that time of prayer before the coming of the Prince of
Peace
“As Catholics we have entered into the full week prior to the Christmas of Advent," the
priest said from the pulpit. Funny how all those faces look alike Smug, gray almost, except for
the women, painted in gaudy colors, renegades of nature where the general rule calls for the
males to strut the plumage to whatever churches birds and lions attend
Quiet, average, sleepy god-fearing believers tight with their nickels when the baskets
were passed.
"...I ask you for your prayers for peace and alms for peace," asked the priest, who was
actually a bishop His next words choked in his throat, an agony of shock popped his eyes and
dropped the gate of his jaw. The sleeping faithful stirred, awakened, and mirrored their priest
Gregoria Cardinelli Chanti had emerged from the vestibule
He walked toward the altar, blessing the throng He stopped, genuflected before the
huge crucifix suspended dead center over the altar, rose and passed his blessings in a graceful
sweep of his pale white hand to the priest/bishop
He then faced the startled congregation, and in a voice ringing throughout the huge
cavern, shouted:
"Hypocrisy! False doctrines! False truths! How can we pray for peace and give alms for
peace when the peoples of the world are engaged in domestic wars and international wars? How
can we also pray for peace and give alms for peace when the Pope himself refuses to intervene
in wars and the causes of wars: poverty, ignorance, intolerance and greed?
"We are to fight — ourselves --- for the true preservation of peace and love and not
listen to false words.
"How can we fight for peace when the church itself is splitting into many factions over
the controversy of that beautiful birth control pill and abortion... .?''
That was when the cops came.
They poured in through the front of Precious Blood Catholic Church, the rear and the
windows, rushing the poor lonely figure standing now silent with his hands clasped
ANTHONY RUSSO
Frenchy's name in real life is Robert Giglio and wits like to call him Gigolo. He was once
to be a priest and spent three years in a seminary He abandoned the cloth because he was
abhorred by the hypocrisy. His name of Gregoria Cardinelli Chanti means, simply, 'Gregorian
Chant' He sings out for peace.
Hustled out of the Church of Precious Blood in a bum's rush by the brethren of the
beloved Keystone Kops, he was surrounded by angry faces in blue uniforms demanding his
identification.
Frenchy reached into his robes and brought out his baptismal certificate
"As a true confirmed believer of Christ," said His Eminence, "This is all the identification
I need."
"Are you queer?" righteously asked one of the upholders of all that is good and decent in
America.
"I am queer for Christ," the Cardinal of the streets smiled beatifically.
He was trundled into a patrol car to police headquarters where the gendarmes badgered
him with questions. "Can I have a chair?" Frenchy asked after awhile and a sitting cop kicked
one over to him. "Oh blessed Lord," he prayed, "Bless this chair for this weary body and bless
these policemen who have been so kind and have given me this blessed chair to rest this weary
body...”
"Get him out of here!!!!" screamed a cop.
Though they wouldn't admit it to Frenchy, the boys in blue were confused as to exactly
what he was guilty of. A high level conference with a public defender set them straight He was
guilty of nothing.
The state cannot interfere with matters of the church.
They let him go
Later in the afternoon, after having walked through the startled streets blessing the
Sunday throngs, in his last ecclesiastical effort of the day. Frenchy began the weekly meeting of
Veterans For Peace with a convocation, just like they do at city council meetings.
"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy," he prayed, head bared of skull
cap, long white hands clasped — it was one of the seven beatitudes, the same prayer he offered
the disgruntled police earlier when they drove him back to the empty Church of Precious Blood
where they had found him.
"And bless the peacemakers, for they shall inherit the earth."
It was a time of wars so awful the ancient written horrors of Hell were but children’s fancy
in comparison. It was a time of hatreds so stark and intense, entire races were subject for
slaughter
Wars were bought and paid for by greedy hands, placating their young tools who were
about to die and kill with pious treacheries called patriotism The land, skies and seas were
poisoned by the chemicals fueling the mighty war industries Armies plundered and murdered
or waited on their leashes for the war drums; ugly gray navies ranged the seas like mad
baskervilles; air forces circled the skies around the clock, armed with weapons capable of
immolating the earth, awaiting only the signal to strike; cities huddled in fear behind their nuclear
walls of missiles jabbing heavenward
Corporate Man thrived; Individual Man/Woman was dead Sex was a pop ploy, love was
dead
In the midst of all this, clinging to hope like thirst-crazed lost tribes to dead rivers, wild
intelligent men and women fought like outraged tigers against the suicidal genocide of their time
Like the early Christians they daunted repressive authority, were beaten and jailed, blessed their
tormentors and went at it again.
And one among them shook the very walls of the corrupted temples themselves.
A lliance for D emocracy
he Alliance for Democracy is a new movement
that seeks to end the domination of our economy,
our government, our culture, our media and the
environment by large corporations.
T
We have united to examine the ways in which various eco­
nomic interests either enhance or harm the health of de­
mocracy and we focus on creating basic change.
End
corporate
rule;
revive
democracy.
Piecemeal reform has been rendered ineffective. We seek
deep systemic alterations to establish economic and politi-
cal democracy.__________
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