In his series “How I became a St. James altar boy,” Ralph Horner writes about growing up next to St. James Church in Goodrich-Kirtland Park and how he got drawn into being an altar boy and, eventually, “a high Anglo Catholic, but not under the Pope Pius XII.”

A little later on in my young life something unexpected happened to me because of St. James Church. I got religion.

It didn't happen to me with a burning bush or with a voice from above. I didn't receive a stone placard with commandments on it. It just happened when a man in a black suit and a funny collar interrupted my playing with my cars and trucks in the alley between the church next door and our apartment building. 

Pastor Vivan Albertus PetersonI knew that this man was the boss of the church. He said to me, “Good morning young man. Would you like to become an altar boy?” I said to him, “Sure, what's an altar boy?” He said, “It is like a job, but you don't get paid, and you work for God,”

I was very curious about what went on in that church and I figured that this might be a good way to find out. I asked him, “What would I have to do?” He said, “You have to come to church on Sunday morning and serve Mass. That means that you assist me and take care of the incense and burning charcoal and serve me wine and say things after I say them.”

I replied, “I don't have to sing like I hear people in there doing, do I?”

“No, you don't have to if you don't want to,” the church boss said. “You could just move your lips and pretend.”

“What about the Holy Ghost you guys sing about in there?” I asked.

“Purely figurative,” he replied. “It signifies the presence of the Lord on earth in a spiritual sense.”

I replied, “Huh? If that means there ain’t no ghost, I can deal with that!”

I thought for a few minutes about being an altar boy, especially about the incense and the burning part and decided to do it. What kid doesn't like to burn stuff up?

Besides, I liked the idea of working for God. Having him on my side might be a good idea in this neighborhood. It would be so cool to tell Richard Nash that my boss, God, was going to kick his butt.

So, I told the priest that I was going to do it. The priest said. “Good. My name is Vivan Albertus Peterson, but you can call me Father Pete.” What a moniker, I thought! I didn't think that I could pronounce all that, but I told him, “Okay, it's a deal.”

Father Pete had kind of an English accent, but I don't know if it was real. He didn't sound so English that time when we were playing kickball and using his big old Buick as third base and he was screaming at us. To pay him back for the kickball incident, I said, “Father Pete? Like Petey the dog in the ‘Little Rascals?’”

He gave me a slightly dirty look and said, in snooty way, “I suppose.” In a more pleasant way, he then said. “Well, welcome to Saint James—a High Episcopal Anglo Catholic, but not under the Pope church.”

I asked what all that meant, and he answered, “High Episcopal, as opposed to Low Episcopal, which is of the Protestant persuasion. Anglo, which is designated as the Church of England. Catholic, but not under the Roman Pope thanks to Henry the Eighth.”

I said “Huh?” and Father Pete said, “Well, never mind, just come to the church by the back door when you hear the first bell ringing next Sunday.”