Father Francis C. Mendez was totally engrossed in reading the Bible. The Jerusalem Bible was a gift he had received from his mentor and spiritual guide ever since he started his Sunday school at the age of five. It had given him comforts and strength whenever he felt his troubles were overwhelming his moral judgment about the issues he consciously was in disagreement with the Roman Catholic Church. This time he was facing that demon again; one that had not manifested for quite a long time. It was assumed by him and his superiors in Rome, that the abomination was finally vanquished and that the Lord, when ardently implored does make miracles. For the Vatican, he was a living example of it and the same remedy that cured him could be administered to the other ordained individuals afflicted.

Tonight looking at his visage however, it appeared like a serious relapse has happened and he was looking into his trusted section of the holy Bible for the miracle. He was reading in the pages of the 'Ecclesiastes':

"Society.
I come again to contemplate all the oppression that is committed under the sun. Take for instance the tears of oppressed, with no one to protect them; the power their oppressors wield. No one to protect them! So, rather than living who still have lives to live, I salute the dead who have already met death; happier than both of these is he who is yet unborn and has not seen the evil things that are done under the sun. I see that all effort and all achievement spring from men's mutual jealousy. This too is vanity and Chasing of the wind."
Then he flipped pages and stopped at another passage that read:

"....Wisdom is a precious legacy, a boon for those on whom that shines. For as money gives protection, so does wisdom; and the good that knowledge imparts is this: its possessor finds that wisdom keeps him safe.
Consider the work of God; who can set straight what he has made crooked? When times are prosperous, enjoy your happiness; when times are bad, consider this: the one is God's doing, as is the other, in order that man may know nothing of his destiny. In this fleeting life of mine I have seen so much; the virtuous man perishing for all his virtue, for all his virtue, for all his godlessness the godless living on.

Do not be over virtuous
Nor play too much the sage;
Why drive yourself too hard?
Do not be wicked to excess,
And do not be a fool;...."

Father Mendez closed the bible while leaving a finger in that Ecclesiastes page and took a deep breath, pushed the locks of hair from his face with a jerk of head backwards and closed his eyes in contemplative way. He stood there in that stage for quite some time. His shapely eyebrows were knitted and eyes were puffy indicating the lack of sleep and his jaw muscles were tightened due to the clamping of the mouth. There was so much tension on his face that any onlooker would have been alarmed, wondering if he was having a heart attack. It was obvious that he was in tremendous agony; grappling with something that must have been of a paramount importance and he was not getting any satisfaction from any source; not even the divinity. Helplessly he came around composing himself and began reading from the same page where he had stopped. He skipped a short, ditty like poem and read:

".... in chasing the wind. And I observe another vanity under the sun: "a man is quite alone-no son, no brother; and yet there is no end to his efforts, his eyes can never have their fill of riches. For whom, then do I work so hard and grudge myself pleasures? This too, is vanity, a sorry business."

Father Francis began to revisit that moment in his youth which had taken hold of his soul ever since he had experienced for the first time; he was just fifteen year old youth then; a comely and feminine in appearance at that. That was the very first introduction to the pleasures of the flesh he had. The lasting effect of that episode had not been erased by his induction in the Seminary in Rome and the progress into the Priesthood. Nothing worked for him, the special retreats, nor the endless hours of prayers and days of penance could get rid him of the very uncontrollable sexual urge he felt each time he came in contact with young boys and men and that had brought him to this remote and unimportant outpost in the Native American section of the Four Corners, instead of originally contemplated posting to the prestigious Massachusetts Diocese. All caused by his honest confession to the Church Superiors about his affliction as they called it.

It all began in his native land like this- with a young and handsome Italian Priest; a Vatican emissary and senior official, who had come to visit his church in Goa to bless the High School graduations. That night, he had spent with the guest in his room who had answered all his questions about his sexuality and explained the sensations he used to feel while wrestling with young boys on the team and the erections he had by just thinking about it. Initially, that had frightened and filled him with enormous guilt and he prayed to the Virgin Mother of God to free him. That did not work and the remedies, Father De Mello, his parish priest and spiritual guide, had prescribed- the cold showers and the usual invocation of Mother Mary's chants had not given him anything else but a running nose and anxious moments.

The Monsignor had seduced him that night by feeding him liquor filled Swiss chocolates and by touching his body sensually and kissing him ardently; all of which he had enjoyed immensely and wanted more of it. Young Francis, the God like son had never known affection that a young child experiences from his or her parents, brothers and sisters or neighbors. In his town he was the untouchable divinity that had the human needs of tactile affections and the loving touches but never received. How could a young man deprived of the natural experiences and education about the changes in body chemistry occurring, recognize the sexual impulses his growing body was sending to his psyche?

The experience of that night made it clear to him that he needed same sex partner to experience the pleasure his body was capable of giving him but then, he was trapped in the unnatural environment of not his choosing and there was no retreat for him, he was preordained to priesthood; just the way the Italian Monsignor was perhaps trapped in his own prison.

That fateful night the very pages of the Ecclesiastes 4 and 7, which he had just visited, were read and explained to him first time by the Monsignor, preparing the youth for the "Pleasure Journey," as the imposing and influential man of God, had called it then. Francis was frightened in the beginning but the experienced man's skillful touches at the right spots had replaced his anxiety into that desires; those very desires neither the cold water bath not the Hail Marries had removed but had been suppressed. He had participated in that ritualistic introduction to his awakening but then, he had also experienced the jealousy when another young man was placed in the services of Monsignor; he had been wounded by the arrow of Eros; he was in love; the intensity of feeling for a man was no different than the feeling of love for the Lord. He did not know what to do or who to approach to get relief. No one would have understood anything save Monsignor Philip, and he was gone. The issue never left him but he managed to keep it under the wrap and quit the wrestling all together.

Ten years had passed and during that time he had progressed on all the fronts as per expectations of him was made, first by the local Church and later by the Vatican authority. However, the malady, as he many times convinced himself he had, was just kept under control because and by the cold and austere ambiance and close supervision he had in the various educational institutions he had been put through. In spite of all that training into the serving of the Lord, it was finally recognized by him and by his superiors that something had to be done about it. The ubiquitous Devil controlling him had to be contained by not giving any exposure to the comely and attractive youths and that was a distinct possibility if he was to be posted in New England.

So the remote outpost was chosen first in an Amazonian Village in Brazil among the natives and after a five years stint, he was posted to a parish in a little town next to an Indian reservation covering the territory of northern New Mexico, Southern Utah and Eastern Arizona. The time will erase the sexual instincts and lack of European faces would prevent attraction was the rationale behind such action by those who never understood human sexuality in the first place. Question of such a prodigal son being kicked out of the Order of Holly Roman Catholic Church was not even considered because that would tantamount to admitting that such vices, if they are to be labeled as such, existed and the religion was helpless in eradicating what was deemed as man's unnatural and base needs.

The necessity for maintain Priestly celibacy was considered a 'must' by the overwhelming majority at the top level. They were the Cardinals, who had endured it and had reached to that ripe old age in celibacy. They were the decision makers who took no account for the Passion or the hormones which give birth to it and makes it an uncontrollable and compelling necessity. Unfortunately, that separation from the 'object of passion,' remedy did not work after all. Blame it on the Lucifer if you like or the Creator Himself as the lines of Ecclesiastes said:

'Consider the work of God; who can set straight what he has made crooked'.

He could not accept the label, ' Crooked'; " I am not crooked; I am just the way I was made", he thought, affirming his guiltless idiosyncrasies and the exemplary field work he had done ever since he was posted in the remote villages of Latin America.

What happened that night after three months of his settling down in the US, was indeed a cruel joke played on him by the destiny. He was in early thirties now when he arrived in the US. Until now he had not encountered any temptations in the jungles of Central Americas and was considered, 'free of that abomination', but then, that what was hidden from his sensory organs which triggers the passion, came in his sight and also within his influence as he returned to that parish in New Mexico. This is the account of that episode:

A new family had moved in the parish. The head of the household was an engineer posted from Francis' homeland- Goa, to the natural gas field exploration station in the deserts bordering Utah. These were the DeCostas. The family consisted of, father- Ivan, age 35, mother-Sushila, age 29, daughter- Jill, age 18 and son-Pravin, age 15.

When DeCosta found out that the parish Monsignor was a local, home town grown and perhaps Kokani speaking Goan, they were delighted and did not wait to settle down to invite Father Francis home for a Goan feast. When Father Francis arrived at the villa that evening, he was delighted to meet Ivan, Sushila and Jill. Young Pravin was playing soccer that evening. The evening began with the traditional prayers and the blessings of the dwelling routine and they exchanged news of the native land which Father had not visited in a decade and had to do the catching up routine with the DeCosta.

The Goan- Portuguese Port wine was excellent and arid smell of Goan Spices added to the gaiety. Sushila sang few native songs and Jill entertained him with few Chopin's piano polyphonies. The evening was advancing perfectly and then it unexpectedly happened and the ambiance vanished in a poof like the proverbial Ginny disappearing.

Francis was at home with the hosts by now and had become relaxed, unpriestly and jocund. He was recalling funny incidences of his childhood and describing his ordeal with the villagers adulation that prevented him from enjoying the normal childhood fun the rest of the youngsters had indulged in. Such feelings he had not encountered before and few generous rounds of Port also helped him to forget his role as the head of the Parish.

It must have been hour and half since the party had begun when he decided to relieve himself and headed for the family's toiletry as was directed by Ivan. When he moved in that direction, he heard the sound of water coming out of tap from one of the rooms lined up in the narrow corridor and he headed for it. Inadvertently he turned the door knob of wrong room and entered.
Pravin was standing there with no cloths on getting ready to go for a shower. He had arrived and as instructed by his mother, had entered the house from backdoor of the kitchen unseen by anyone. Francis froze in his track and their eyes met after his had travelled over the young, athletic body and charming face of the young man. The boy's action of grabbing a towel brought him to his senses and he muttered an apology and hastily retreated.

The whole episode had lasted but few minutes but its effect was devastating. In the washroom, Father Francis went to pieces. Sitting on the commode cover, he sunk his face in his folded palms and despair came over with the realization that he had not overcome that call of his body and the nature, however may it be unnatural. It was made unacceptable to the Holy Roman Church which was his world, dominated by the spiritual massages, the doctrines of sins, effects of sins and redemption along with the whole repertoire of duties and responsibilities of a Roman Catholic Priest or for that matter any faithful person.
All the teaching laid out neatly in the Job's Apologia and the Ecclesiastes he had read and repeated thousand times had fallen asunder in front of that overwhelming and demonic compulsion; nay it cannot be demonic-
"He who blew his own breath in Adam; how could he be wrong in making me the way I am?"

He was battling with himself and minutes were turning into anxious moments outside the door where both, Ivan and Sushila were pondering over the question whether to knock on the door or not? The Padre had vanished in their bathroom and only sound they had heard from outside was a faint sobbing.

"You shouldn't't have fed him so much of Port, I think he is missing his family in Goa". Sushila was reproaching her husband and hearing that, Father Francis came around and said,
" I am coming out in a minute."
He straightened himself, splashed water on his face and came out with that well practiced, benign face of the representative of the Savior on the planet.

Instinctively, DeCostas sensed that the man sitting at the dining table was not the same Priestly figure that had blessed their home that evening. After that, everything went smoothly but in a subdued manner. Pravin's presence at the dinner table made no difference in the ambiance that was more serious and courtesy laden and appropriate for a feast welcoming the Monsignor and not a fellow Goan. It ended as supposed to end-With movement of hand upheld and the Redeemer's cross symbolized in the air with the blessings murmured.