The New Yorker: From the Archives: Unholy Acts

Wheelwright, Massachusetts -

On a Sunday morning a year ago last January, the congregants of my church—St. Augustine's Mission, a tiny Catholic church in the central Massachusetts town of Wheelwright—looked up to see an unfamiliar priest at the altar. Nothing was said about our pastor, Father Ronald Provost, by this stranger in white alb and green stole; the Mass went on, as we were taught that it should, regardless of the celebrant. We received Communion, said our thanksgiving, and went downstairs to the hall for coffee and doughnuts. There were some whispers of curiosity about where Father Provost was that morning, but in such a small parish we were not going to ask anyone directly; and, whatever the reason for Father Provost's absence, we knew we were lucky to have a priest at all in these days of an ever-shrinking clergy and a growing number of church closings. After greeting us at the back of the church, the visiting priest, who identified himself as Father Rocco Piccolomini, the diocesan vicar for priests, had quickly left.

.................

He said nothing about why he had gone there, but he implied that the treatment had worked, and said that he was ready and eager to go back to work as a parish priest.

It was a short conversation. I didn't ask Father Provost about his ordeal, but he volunteered a comment that seemed strange to me. "I don't know why they're after me," he said. "Just seven pictures of kids in their underwear." I had no idea what he was talking about..................

Read the article at The New Yorker: From the Archives dated 1993-06-07; Posted 2002-06-10

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