The Gospel Truth

That’s Good Shepherd Church in the picture. At least that’s how I knew it, though evidently it’s called The Church of the Good Shepherd. Close enough for a nice Jewish girl from NYC. I lived near this church since fourth grade. My neighborhood was Irish with a large side of Jews. This was the first church I ever set foot in.

Sometime in Junior High School my best friend and fellow yid asked me if I had ever been inside a church. I said no. She grabbed my hand and said “Come on, lets go.” I think she pulled me up those stairs. I’m almost certain I was begging God to not kill me as I followed her inside. The door closed behind us. I was in a church.

It was midday so the church was empty. She explained to me that if you leave money in the box you could light a candle. Hey, I hadn’t burst into flames yet, so we lit a candle. The match sticks were really long. I’m pretty sure she lit a few candles. She was never about moderation. Then we sat in one of the pews in the back. This particular church was really pretty inside. After a trip to Italy decades later I came to understand that Catholics know how to decorate a place of worship. After a few minutes we left. At least she didn’t make me go to confessional!

That wasn’t my last brush with the church. Some time in High School, probably my first year, another friend took me to a dance at the school associated with the Good Shepherd church. It’ll be fun she said. I followed like sheep to the slaughter. We didn’t really mix, the Jews and the Irish Catholics in the neighborhood. The minute we entered the gymnasium I saw a priest. I was sure he would take one look at me and know there was a Jew amongst his flock. Actually two Jews.

After a short while we ended up leaving with some of the kids she knew. I was so relieved that I had not been struck by lightning. Until I realized we were all going drinking in the woods in Indian Hill Park. Would they ever find my body? I didn’t drink a lot. I was on the alert. Like I could have done anything had these tough Irish kids decided to mess with us. I don’t really know how tough they were, but relative to us? Or relative to any of the kids I hung out with? I’m pretty sure what the Vegas odds would be. The kids were actually really nice. We laughed. I drank a little. They all drank a lot. A lot of what, I can’t remember. It was fun, I remember that.

As a kid growing up in this neighborhood, I was so glad I didn’t have to wear a uniform to school. Rolling down the waist of the plaid skirt going into school and then rolling it back up once the school day ended and you walked home seemed crazy. Us heathens could even wear pants to school by that time. Of course we were going straight to hell anyway!