Different Crowns

A story about the Third Sorrowful Mystery. . .

I first met Bridgitte in the school cafeteria.

It was October and everyone was getting ready for the Fall Fest.The school was covered with posters and orange tissue paper. Most importantly, five girls were diligently campaigning to be elected the "Fall Queen". To make matters more unnerving, my own sister, Evelyn, was not only one of the nominees, but the one most likely to be elected. It was all she had been talking about for weeks.

But today, as I was getting my lunch and planning to spend the period reading my book about the Rosary, I noticed Bridgitte sitting at a table by herself. She was kind of an odd looking person. Her hair was dark black and her skin was pale white. She was actually dressed in a bright tie-dye t-shirt and faded blue jeans. Still, there was something pretty about her.

I guess we must have made eye-contact because she smiled at me. "Want to come over here?"

Was she talking to me? It was kind of unusual for girls to actually want to talk to me, much less invite me to their table. I gulped and walked to her table.

"Great," she said, but then her smile vanished. "I am getting so sick of hearing about the Fall Fest. Aren't you?"

I was a little surprised to hear that out of left field, but I agreed. "It's worse for me." I told her about my sister.

She made a face. "That must be fun! Living with a bitch like that."

I didn't like hearing Evelyn called a bitch, but I decided not to press it.

"What really annoys me," Bridgitte continued, "is that there're actually so many more important things happening in the world right now. Just the other night, we heard that the President is talking about bombing Iran (again), and people are sitting here arguing about which Barbie doll should get to be Fall Queen. It's the reason this country is such a disgusting mess."

"So, what do you think about it?"

The question caught me off guard. I had a feeling that if I told her I was in favor of the war, I would never be asked to eat with her again. "Honestly," I said, "I don't think much about it. I mean, I don't want people to die."

"Good for you," she said with a trace of sarcasm. "That's probably how we all are, though. We don't want people to die, but we don't do much to stop it. Maybe that's why this Fall Fest is so popular. No matter who wins, nobody dies. Whoopee!"

This was getting uncomfortable. I found myself clutching at my book. Bridgitte must have noticed this, because she said, "What are you reading?"

"Oh," I said, glad to be changing the subject, "it's a book about the mysteries of the Rosary. You see--"

She interrupted, "Is that a church thing?"

"Well, yes-"

"I hate church things!"

* * *

I was still thinking about Bridgitte that evening. In a way, my lunch with her hadn't gone very well, but there was still something about her. Not only was she pretty, I admired something about her.

"Hey, Jason," called out Evelyn from the family room, "Guess what I found." She held up her phone. "Your girlfriend posted something."

"What girlfriend?"

"The girl you had lunch with today."

"How did you know--"

"Please, people find out about those things." Evelyn watched the video Bridgitte had posted. As she did, her face became more serious. Bridgitte was talking about the evils of war and how the world was so terrible.

"Actually," said Evelyn, "this could be bad. Maybe, you should stay away from her."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, people at school don't like it when you say bad things about the war or the president."

I was getting angry now. "Evelyn, this is America! You're supposed to be able to criticize the war."

"Sure, but that doesn't mean everyone else has to like it." She patted my head condescendingly . "Anyway, since when did you become a political activist?"

It made me stop and think because she was right. I never spoke about politics with anyone.

We were both silent for a minute.

Then I thought of something else. I pulled out my book on the Rosary and .opened it to the third Sorrowful Mystery--The Crowning with Thorns. The Fruit of that Mystery is Moral Courage. "See this?"

"Ugh!" said Evelyn looking at the picture, "What does that have to us?"

"When Jesus marched into Jerusalem, everyone probably expected him to kick some Roman ass, and if he had done that, they would have given him a real crown. But Jesus knew that was wrong because the Romans, the Jews, the Iranians, are all God's children, so instead he took a crown of thorns. Someone who understands that is a real Christian, even if most Christians don't."

.Evelyn's mouth dropped open with disbelief. "Well," she said with a laugh and walked away.

* * *

On the day of the Fall Fest, Evelyn had to make a speech in the school gym.

"People," she said, "I address you humbly. In a way, I feel wrong being here. Our country is starting a war with Iran, and Iranians are children created in God's image. As a Christian girl, I cannot remain silent during such times. Not to mention, the money spent on bombs and missiles could better be spent on schools like ours. If I am crowned today, I promise that I will lead this school as much as possible for peace."

That's when the booing started.

* * *

Long story short, Evelyn came in last when we voted for Fall Queen. But afterwards, I introduced her to Bridgitte who tentatively gave her a hug.

Then, Bridgitte looked at me and said, "Maybe church things aren't so bad."

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