Wail

It was a mockery, a scandal; the congregation winced and gasped. She sucked the air from their lungs, fed on their piety like a succubus. The very room seemed itself to shrink, cringing at the wail from the back.

The woman stumbled forward toward the altar, as though physically wounded, fists aloft, then down to beat at her chest.

The priest pressed on but only managed two words before she resumed. He spoke again, and she interjected, and then again. Like this they traded blows for a minute or two.

Whatever the turbulence in his mind, the priest’s countenance remained stoic. Was his purpose to demonstrate patience? Was he simply afraid to act? A well-dressed parishioner rose from the front row and moved cautiously toward the woman. His wife rose to slink behind him and the priest watched from the altar. The intruding woman wailed, beat her breast, jabbered in an unknown tongue.

The husband and wife drew to the wailing woman, extended their hands slightly but did not make a final approach. The priest made a small movement, then froze, then swayed. What would they have him do? Tell her to shut up? Physically restrain her? Frogmarch her out into the darkness?

The woman was not a streaker at a cricket match to tackled, escorted from the ground, slapped with a hefty fine. Nor was she an unruly patron at hotel to be tossed onto the sidewalk. She wasn’t a disruptive child in a classroom, to be sent to the corner or to the vice-principal’s office.

The woman looked at the priest. He acknowledged her with an imploring nod. He lifted his hand, crossed himself, gestured discreetly for her to leave. She stopped, silent. All stared.

The husband and wife again approached. This reignited her passion, and again she began to wail and writhe.

The man and his wife recoiled. The woman marched onward, shrieking, shaking her head, then collapsing in a heap on the steps leading up to the altar.

The priest stepped forward, crouched beside her, reached out tentatively as though she might burn his hand.

The woman’s crying faded to a whimper.

The priest paused, then stood again and resumed his homily from where he left off. The woman lay on the steps for the remainder of the mass. When it concluded, she rose carefully from the floor and walked slowly out through the nearest exit into the balmy night. ▩