The young priest at home
Eagerly he walked to the church on Main Street. He smiled as he saw the handsome house next door, which he assumed must be the rectory. When he rang the bell and announced to the friendly sister who answered that he had come to take Fr. Boecklemann’s place while he was gone, he received the first of many shocks he would experience in Elkhart. Instead of welcoming him inside, the sister led him to a series of ramshackle wooden buildings, each hardly larger than a shed, behind the church near the railroad tracks. Fr. Boecklemann had turned his rectory over to the sisters of the Holy Cross for a convent, and he and his mother had moved into the poor quarters behind the church.
As he ruefully surveyed the unpainted shack with holes in the wall, wondering if it leaked when it rained, the sister smilingly informed him that the hoboes wouldn’t bother him.
“H-Hoboes?” he stammered. Seeing the look of surprise on his face, she hastened to explain that often when the trains passed by, these wanderers jumped off and headed for what were apparently deserted shacks to sleep a while. Telling the young priest that if he gave them a little food then he wouldn’t bother them, she left him to get washed up before exploring the rest of his new domain.
On Saturday, Fr. Noll entered the little church apprehensively to hear his first confessions. Fortunately, there were only a few in line, and all went well. The seminary professors had prepared him well for all contingencies and, by the end of the day, the eager young priest found himself wishing for more penitents as an outlet for his zeal. The following day, his first sermons also went smoothly. Two Masses were needed to accommodate all the worshippers, and the rules allowed for the priest to say both in such a case. However, since he could not break his fast from the previous midnight until both were said, Fr. Noll found himself very hungry by the end of the second Mass. After lunch he counted the meager collection. It was just short of six dollars, most of it in pennies.
Then Fr. Noll prepared for the baptism that was set for two in the afternoon. The ceremony flowed along until he came to the imposition of salt. At the taste, the infant began squalling in its godmother’s arms until it worked itself into a full-fledged tantrum. The rest of the service the baby screamed so loudly that it rattled the young priest badly, and when he finished, the christening party was nearly out of the church before he remembered to call them back to get the information needed for the baptismal registry.
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