It was in front of the St. Martin de Tours Catholic Church beside it was another, "The German/Afro Tea room." Father Vernon Robertson was the Priest and we were friends. Every Wednesday after the noon Mass, during which I did the readings from the High Alter, we would have lunch in the tea room. He dubbed it the "Roman Catholic/Southern Baptist Coalition." He was Catholic and I'm Southern Baptist so it was ecumenical.
Russell Bennett was my boss and he liked to approve public ecumenical activities before they actually occurred. The formation of our Coalition was news to him ... especially learning of it on an extremely large and Gothic sign on one of the city's busy roads.
A bit later my phone rang at the Jefferson Street Baptist Chapel, where I was employed as the "Professional Christian" (getting paid to do what everyone else had to do for free). It was Russell's secretary.
"He wants you now," she said.
"What did I do?" I asked.
"What haven't you done," she replied.
She had a point. Recently Russell had accused me of breaking into his office one night and placing pages of pornography in the files of his elaborate filing system. It was going to take him years to find all of the porn carefully placed in the thousands of files.
I told him that I had no idea what he was talking about and had actually been at home studying my Sunday School lesson when the crime took place. Russell's a real doubting Thomas and didn't believe me.
I went to his office dressed for work in blue jeans, a nice shirt and sock tie. Like most Southern Baptists, he wore a three piece suit.
"What have you done?" he demanded.
"I haven't done anything," I told him.
"What's a Roman Catholic/Southern Baptist Coalition?" he fired.
"Oh that," I said understanding. "Vernon and I have lunch together on Wednesdays."
"Well you can't announce it on a sign like that!" he angrily said.
"I didn't announce anything. Vernon did that."
"Well tell him to take it down!"
"I'm not Catholic," I protested. "I can't tell a Priest what to do. He wouldn't listen to me any way."
Russell would have none of it, reminding me that I was in enough trouble with the Southern Baptists. Later I recounted everything with Vernon over a lunch of crab cakes with white wine.
"You want me to take it down?" he asked. "I don't want you to get in trouble."
"Naw," I said. "Just invite Russell to lunch and let him talk a lot. Those are the key components to solving Southern Baptist problems."
Vernon died not too long afterwards though he lives still inside of many of us he touched. He was a renegade believer and taught me be one too. Today I miss him and at noon will remember the Mass as I express thanks for the Saints and Guardian Angels that have graced my life.
