“A flood of memories came rushing in upon me one day recently at Mass.

I noticed an impeccably dressed elderly woman with stark white hair nodding — not just nodding, but nodding at what I began to realize were predictable times. To be sure, I continued to observe this almost imperceptible movement of her head downward until I became aware that it occurred precisely each time the priest uttered the Name, "Jesus". It did not occur when the priest uttered “Christ” — except when it was preceded by “Jesus”.

I looked around the congregation and saw to my surprise that this gentle gesture was accompanied by other nods — mostly among what one “Minister of Music” derisively described to me as the “Grayheads.” I even observed it, much to my surprise, in one young man. Out of a congregation of perhaps 300, noticed this almost imperceptible but curious behavior in perhaps five or six parishioners. And always — always and only — at the Sacred Name of Jesus.

Memories returned. Memories of my father. A tall man (to me as a child, anyway) with a gentle voice; strong, in the quiet way that only gentleness can be remarkably strong, he walked beside me, straight and assured, but not arrogant. Holding my hand, we walked the several blocks to Church with my younger brother alternately walking and being carried effortlessly in the strong arms of my father. It was Sunday morning 1957. Upon entering Church (Saint Clement’s), he removed his hat and made sure we blessed ourselves properly. In those days matrons wore fur stoles that still had the eyes of the poor Minks still in them, which endlessly fascinated my brother, and frightened me. Dad had to prevent Mikey from poking at them during Mass.

It was here that I first remembered Dad nodding his head, too. I did not know why ... but he did, and so did everyone else. I remember asking him if his tie was too tight. He put his fingers to his lips and pointed in the direction of the Altar. As time went by I began to understand that one simply nods ones head whenever the name of Jesus was uttered. Catholics just did that. The priest did it. Dad did it. Even Mikey did it! And so did Tommy Mason, the freshest kid on the block! Soon it became second nature, in Church and out of it. I remember my father gently scolding me once when I deliberately said the “Holy Name” several times in a row to make the boys around me nod their heads! I even did it twice to Aunt Vickie!

But I also noticed two other peculiar things about Dad (and, in fact, a lot of other Catholics back then). Whenever we walked in front of a Church — even on the other side of the street — Dad would make a tiny Sign of the Cross over his heart in a hidden kind of way, and quietly utter :

“Gloria (presumably Aunt Gloria), Tea and Bee, Dom and knee”.

I thought it a cute riddle that rhymed, although I never had an Uncle Dom. Later Dad unraveled the mystery to me one day when I finally asked him who “Dom” was. I distinctly remember that it was winter, for Dad crouched down beside me in the snow, threw his muffler around our faces to keep out the snow and wind, and told me, “It is Latin, son. “Gloria tibi, Domine”, which means, “Glory to You, Lord Jesus.” Yup, even as he spoke he nodded his head when he said “Jesus” — and so did I. I was learning. “Whenever you pass in front of a Catholic Church you always say that, son, and make the Sign of the Cross over your heart.” But Mom does it over her forehead, I protested. “Well, Mamma is right, too”, he said. “The important thing is that you always do it, because Jesus is inside the Church.”

Walking, driving, on the bus — wherever — Dad did it and I felt it was like a little secret between us, and, of course, Jesus (yes, I just now bowed my head).

There was one other thing that Dad did that stayed with me all my life. Whenever he spoke with someone who was either angry or just crude and said something like, “Jesus Christ! I told him he was a crook!” or, “Jesus, was I angry!”, I noticed that Dad very unobtrusively did two things! First, of course, he slightly bowed his head. Then he would usually cross his arms and underneath them secretly make a small, totally unnoticeable movement with his thumb, pressing it against his heart.

It took a long time for me to catch on to that one. Again, it was something he did so naturally and quietly that it almost escaped me. “Dad,” I later asked, after he had a very animated conversation with one of my uncles, “what do you do with your thumb when people are angry, like Uncle Mario was a few minutes ago? And why?” This really escaped me — but stayed with me all my life as perhaps no other gesture he taught me.

He paused a moment, as though trying to look for simple words to explain it.

“What”, he asked me, is the Third Commandment?” I told him, “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.”, proud that I remembered it quickly (back then we had to memorize them and Nuns taught us our Catechism — and boy, you had better remember!)

“Well”, Dad continued, “Uncle Mario just used the Lord’s Name in vain. Instead of just letting it pass as blasphemy (I did not know what “blasphemy” exactly was at the time, but knew it was not good) against God, I just “finished” the sentence for him, adding, “Have mercy on us” and striking my heart as we do at Mass. That way, it brings something good out of a sin — I make it an opportunity to ask God’s mercy both for Uncle Mario and for myself.”

I began to understand what kind of man my father really was — and what kind of man I should try to be, too. So often it is the little things a person does — especially when they do not know that they are being observed — that leave the most lasting impressions.

Dad would not recognize most Catholics today. Neither, I think, would Saint Paul. What was second nature to them seems to have disappeared altogether —except for a few of those beautiful elderly women or old men at Mass.”

P.G.
San Francisco, CA

“Christ Jesus, Who being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: But emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men, and in habit found as a man. He humbled himself, becoming obedient unto death, even to the death of the cross. For which cause God also hath exalted him, and hath given him a name which is above all names: That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those that are in heaven, on earth, and under the earth. And that every tongue should confess that the Lord Jesus Christ is in the glory of God the Father.” (Saint Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians 2.5-11)