Buddhist Catholic Contemplative Evangelical General Christian Hindu Jewish Latter-day Saint Muslim New Visions Progressive Christian

Beliefs

Topics

Columnists

Resource Library

Research Tools

Video

Podcasts

Thought Readers

Faith In Media Tracker

Newsletters

Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In Subscription Support

Follow Patheos

Home
Catholic
What Did You Come Out To See?

What Did You Come Out To See?

Last updated on: December 17, 2019 at 11:24 pm by Mary Pezzulo

What Did You Come Out To See? 2019-12-17T23:24:20-04:00 Mary Pezzulo

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

The lady who gives us rides to church used to live in France. She came here to study more than a decade ago– about the same time I did. Now she lives nearby us, because she can’t afford to live back in France; Steubenville is the cheapest place to live in the world, or so she tells me.

It certainly feels cheap.

She is the one who once said, “When I came here, I missed beauty so much it physically hurt,” and I knew just what she meant.

What did you go out to the desert to see?

This past Sunday, she had arranged to take us to evening Mass and then shopping. I don’t like to shop on Sundays, but Sunday is the day we have a ride– and there was a one-day sale at Ollie’s, with discounts on things we needed. We are not as poor as we once were, but we’re poor enough to need to pinch pennies. We had to go shopping on Sunday. First, we went to Mass.

Mass was Mass, eternally beautiful but no more aesthetic to the physical eye than usual. The priest read the Gaudete Sunday gospel in his awkward soft pink vestment– not “rose,” which is a different shade, but a pastel even softer. It seemed slightly comical, considering that some translations of Gaudete Sunday’s gospel have Christ asking “what did you go out to see? A man dressed in soft garments?”

The man dressed in soft garments preached a good homily, and consecrated the Eucharist, and fed us all on the Bread of Life. We sang “O Come, Divine Messiah.”

When I came outside, my friend from France had met a lady from Germany.

This lady had also come to Steubenville to study, and gotten trapped here. It’s the cheapest place in the world to live, so she couldn’t see her way back to Europe. She lives near my neighborhood as the friend from France does, but she doesn’t have a car– perhaps not even an American driver’s license. She walks up to Mass and back down to where she lives every day, in a teal coat, her head wrapped in a teal scarf, her backpack protected from rain with a bright teal tarp.

She has been doing this since Rosie was a baby.

What did you go out to the desert to see? A reed swayed by the wind? Then what did you go out to see? A man dressed in soft garments? Men dressed in soft garments are found in palaces.

The lady from Germany was about to walk a mile to Wendy’s for supper, in the cold rain of a Steubenville December. Michael offered to wait in the Adoration chapel, since my friend’s car was small– that way, my friend could take the lady to Wendy’s and then drive back to church to collect him, and then she would take us three Pezzulos to do our shopping.

My friend joyfully agreed.

“It reminds me of a folktale by Jean de la Fontaine,” she said.

“Tell it to me!” I started to demand. I love folktales of all kinds. I studied mythology a bit in undergraduate, at Otterbein University near Columbus, thirteen years ago before I fell into the Steubenville vortex. I came here with an idiotic notion that I would study philosophy and win souls for Christ with my logical reasoning, and perhaps be a bioethicist in a big city hospital.

That seems like an eternity ago.

The two ladies from Europe started chatting about how cheap it was to live here, and how they managed to get trapped here because it was too expensive to leave. And I chimed in on that as well, because the same thing happen to me.

The same thing happens to a lot of people in this town. We all come here to learn about God, and we have a certain notion about how it works out– and then it doesn’t. We are all of us stranded in this cold limbo, in the twilight of this smoggy climate where sun filters gray-violet through clouds by day and the clouds reflect street lamps red-violet by night. Some of us like it here. Some of us puzzle at the dialect and the culture. Some of us wonder why everyone is so often rude and angry, and why people who are supposed to be good Catholics don’t act the way they should. Some of us long for beauty so much that it physically hurts.

Maybe this is not just a fact about life in the Ohio Valley. Maybe this is the human condition.

Then why did you go out? To see a prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet.

As we drove, I went over my mental list. I have a long list of things I’m going to do if I ever inherit a fortune; I meditate on it on cold days. I’ll move to Pittsburgh, of course. I won’t buy a mansion, but I will treat myself to a 1920s foursquare of about 2000 square feet, with central air, convenient to Schenley Park. I’ll sponsor a laundromat here in downtown Steubenville, with the washers and dryers paid for in advance by a big donation from me every month. I’ll pay someone whatever it takes to open a grocery store that takes EBT next to the laundromat as well, so that all those poor people who depend on the Friendship Room for nutritious food will have another chance to get some. I’ll demolish some abandoned buildings near the Friendship Room and put in a really nice park with a garden designed specifically for good smells– the Ohio river smells like tin and rubber, and the stench permeates the whole city when the wind is right.

I didn’t know how bad a poor town in the rust belt could smell, before I came here. I don’t think I’d ever heard of a “food desert,” a part of a city where it’s very difficult to buy groceries if you’re poor. I had no idea what a burden it is to have no way to do laundry, no transportation to take you a mile in the rain, nothing to do for fun, nothing beautiful to look at or listen to or smell for months on end. I couldn’t even imagine not being well-to-do enough to be able to turn down a sale on Sunday.

“Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them. And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.

““What did you go out to the desert to see? A reed swayed by the wind? Then what did you go out to see? Someone dressed in fine clothing? Those who wear fine clothing are in royal palaces. Then why did you go out? To see a prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet.Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written: Behold, I am sending my messenger ahead of you; he will prepare your way before you. Amen, I say to you, among those born of women there has been none greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”

I have met many people who called themselves prophets, since I came out to this place. Many of them have been proven to be false since I got here. I can’t say that I’ve met John the Baptist. But my eyes were open, and I became poor, and I had the Good News proclaimed to me, and now I’m trying to tell you.

We dropped the lady from Germany off at Wendy’s.

“Bon apetit,” said the lady from France.

I added to my mental list that if I ever got rich, I would buy the lady from Germany American driving lessons, and a car.

“What was the fable you were talking about?” I asked.

“I’m trying to think what it is in English,” she said apologetically. “Le Loup, Le Chevre, et Le Chou.”

I remembered that one: the riddle of the man who has to transport himself, a wolf, a goat, and a cabbage across the river, without any passenger eating other passenger, in a boat only big enough to carry three at once. The answer is that he has to take his time, and think carefully, and make several trips.

We drove back to church, through the rain, with Christmas lights blazing on either side.

When I was dropped off at the dormitory thirteen years ago, I was told, “I hope this place can do something for you, because we give up.”

I have not been back to Columbus in eleven years; not spoken to my mother in eight; not seen most of my family, and I don’t expect to see them again. But if I do, I would like to tell them all the things I learned when I came to this soggy desert, to learn about God.

None of it was what I expected to learn.

(Image via Pixabay)

Steel Magnificat operates almost entirely on tips. To tip the author, visit our donate page.

Public face of Catholicism

Previous Post

December 16, 2019

An Urgent Work of Mercy for Gaudete Week

Next Post

December 19, 2019 A Peach-Y Evening in Politics

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category abortion Abuse Advent America American Christianity angel angels Annunciation Appalachia apparition apparition chaser apparition chasers apparition culture art art review babies baby baby Jesus Bad Lip Reading bad statue contest bath beauty Bible story blog blogkeeping blood book review Brandon Sanderson breastfeeding bus Catholic catholic conspiracy alarmism Catholic Oppositional Disorder Charismatic Renewal Charlie the Cat chastity Christ Christian idenitity Christianity and Judaism Chronic Illness clean clothing COD piece comedy compassion conscience conspiracy theory conversion cop-on-black violence Crucifixion cry of the poor culture Daesh Daily Saints death death penalty devotional diaconate diaper diapers dirty disability Donald Trump Dorothy Day dream drugs Eastern Catholicism Eastern Christianity education election election update Elsewhere on Patheos empathy environment Fear feminism film review fish flashback fluffy buns food Franciscan University of Steubenville Friendship Room fun Gabriel gardening gospel hair-splitting Heaven hell heresy Hillary Clinton history Holly the Witch Holy Spirit holy war Homeschooling homosexuality horror human dignity humor Icon idol immigrants infection inter-religious dialogue Interpretation of Scripture Islam Jesus Jihad Joseph joy laity and lay vocations lamb dinner laundry lent lgbtq literature love manners Mary Medicine and Science Meditation mercy mess milk misogyny Missouri monasticism monster motherhood mourn with those mourn movies movis music mystery nature neurodiversity New Pro-Life Movement news nonsense nostalgia O antiphons obituary objectification Ohio Valley Ordinary Time ordination Ordo Amoris parable paradox Passover peanut butter personal beliefs pets philosophy Planet Charismatic poetry politics polls poop Pope Francis Pope Leo power in the Church prayer prayer request prayers preferential option for non-violence president presidential election priest primary private revelation pro-life prophecy Public face of Catholicism Pure Flix Q and A race racism random rape rape. sexuality reader's request Reckoners refugee religious trauma ressurrection Right to life Saints saints and celebrations same-sex same-sex marriage satire scandal secular feasts seder Seven Joys Seven Last Words sex sexual ethics sexuality silencing six months skid row slavery social justice Speculative fiction spiritual abuse spoon stain story suffering suffrage suffragette Sunday Gospel temple Tenebrae Responsories Terror the exorcist The Friendship Room The New Pro-Life Movement Things I Learned on the Internet tin cup traffic true story tv review Uncategorized USCCB vice and temptation violence Virtue virtue and vice war Way of the Cross whimsy whole life women's ordination work of mercy Year A

Select a Month October 2026 September 2026 August 2026 July 2026 June 2026 May 2026 April 2026 March 2026 February 2026 January 2026 December 2025 November 2025 October 2025 September 2025 August 2025 July 2025 June 2025 May 2025 April 2025 March 2025 February 2025 January 2025 December 2024 November 2024 October 2024 September 2024 August 2024 July 2024 June 2024 May 2024 April 2024 March 2024 February 2024 January 2024 December 2023 November 2023 October 2023 September 2023 August 2023 July 2023 June 2023 May 2023 April 2023 March 2023 February 2023 January 2023 December 2022 November 2022 October 2022 September 2022 August 2022 July 2022 June 2022 May 2022 April 2022 March 2022 February 2022 January 2022 December 2021 November 2021 October 2021 September 2021 August 2021 July 2021 June 2021 May 2021 April 2021 March 2021 February 2021 January 2021 December 2020 November 2020 October 2020 September 2020 August 2020 July 2020 June 2020 May 2020 April 2020 March 2020 February 2020 January 2020 December 2019 November 2019 October 2019 September 2019 August 2019 July 2019 June 2019 May 2019 April 2019 March 2019 February 2019 January 2019 December 2018 November 2018 October 2018 September 2018 August 2018 July 2018 June 2018 May 2018 April 2018 March 2018 February 2018 January 2018 December 2017 November 2017 October 2017 September 2017 August 2017 July 2017 June 2017 May 2017 April 2017 March 2017 February 2017 January 2017 December 2016 November 2016 October 2016 September 2016 August 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 March 2016

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

What is the last book of the Old Testament?

Select your answer to see how you score.

Zechariah Malachi Micah Haggai