One October Wednesday In Czechoslovakia

It is October seventh and it is Wednesday. I am eight and lucky that my parents have a short day. It means I can leave the after-school at two thirty. I usually like to stay longer, but not today. I have something important to do in the afternoon.

Finally! It is two thirty and off I go! Good bye everyone!

I kick my yellow slippers into my cubby, quickly put on my outside shoes, swing the bag on my back and off I fly down the stairs. I push hard to open the heavy wooden oversize doors, cross the street toward the church garden, hurry through it as I brush the leaves out of my way. I pass a beige two story grocery market, I make a right and here I am in front of my  apartment building. I open the glass door, run one set of the steps and ring the bell in our family tradition, two short buzzes. Nothing. Not even a peep. Come on, open the door already! I ring twice again. Finally, I see my mom in her yellow flowery apron and  she says loud  hi with a smile. She always smiles when I come home. 

„Mom, mom, mom please, say yes, say yes! My nicest mommy mommy mommy, say yes that I can attend the Bible study class today! You have to say yes because I have already promised that for sure, FOR SURE, I am joining. Mr. priest was so nice. It starts this afternoon at 4 pm and it will be, you will not believe it, in the back of the church, the huge brown door that are never ever to be opened, the one that has the little statue above the entrance!! I want to study the Bible because there are miracles in it and angels and if you do believe in it, you will live forever. The priest gave all of those who signed up a coloring book. Mommy, mommy, please. I know you will say yes!!“

My father comes out of the kitchen as I plead, his hands in his pockets and he listens. 

My mom says: „But Markétko, you would be too busy! You have ballet, choir, piano and girl‘s scouts, you will not have time. Let’s go, I bought you something, it is in the kitchen!“

Mom takes me gently by my hand and wants to lead me from our long hall to the kitchen. I slip my hand out, I stop and say: „Of course I have time, mom! Daddy, tell mom I have time, today is my free day! That is why it is so perfect. Today is the Bible School and today I have nothing else but the Bible School.“

I beg with my eyes, I raise my eyebrow and tilt my head to the right and I smile at my father. He returns the smile, gently shakes my shoulder as he grabs it, he fixes my sliding strap of my overalls and says: „Markétko, you would not have time to do much else. Like today, we are going to bike to the river to feed the swans.  Come on, let’s go to the kitchen, I have to pick up Hynek soon. How was school today?“

I cannot believe them. How was school today? Just like that they stop talking about my Bible study? And they offer feeding swans instead of a Bible school? One cannot even compare it!

„But mommy, daddy, I already signed up, I promised, they will be waiting for me, they are counting on me. I have to go.“

„Markétko, we already told you, it would be too much for you. Now, go change and then come to the kitchen to see what is on the table for you.“

And my mother disappears in the kitchen. My dad grabs my chin, shakes it, looks at me, makes a long funny face that we do when we play silly and says: „Come on, we will stop for  ice cream on the way from the river.“ He winks at me and joins my mom in the kitchen.

I start crying. Why don‘t they let me? Why  can‘t  I go! And it is in the church, it used to be at the school, but they changed it that is why everyone is so excited. It is IN THE CHURCH! In the part no one is allowed to go but people who know Jesus and  who study the Bible. Plus, we never even go to the main part of the church. 

I keep hearing my name, first my mom, then my dad, „Markétko, Markétko“, but I am already in my room, my face buried in my arms hugging my knees. My father comes in. „Markétko, you are a big girl, you will not cry like that, will you?“

„Yes, I will because I have to go. I promised, they are all waiting for me.“

„Well, Markétko, I'll tell you  what. You are right, we have to go, if they are all waiting for you. We will stop by the church on our way to the river and I will speak to the priest and will explain to him that you do not have time.‘

„But I do, I do, I do!“

„No, Markétko, we explained to you that it would be too much. Many times you perform with ballet or with your piano teacher and all concerts are on Wednesdays because all schools have a short day. So we have to keep Wednesday free.“

„I hate ballet, I hate piano and I love only Bible school!“

„I know“, said my dad, „I know you think you do. But I promise, I promise that you will feel better tomorrow.“ He tapped my knee and left.

I change into my „play“ clothes, crack open the kitchen door and say:  „I will wait outside for you, I am not hungry and I don‘t want ANY treat you bought for me,“ and I leave.

Once outside in our huge courtyard my friends motion to me to join them under a birch tree where they play marbles, my favorite game. I have my sack with me and I am an expert who usually wins. There is a small hole under the tree, you collect from each player three marbles, shake them between your cupped palms and thrust them above the hole to disperse them. Then with your middle knuckle of your point finger you try to deliver a marble into the hole. You miss, someone else plays. You deliver them all into the hole, you are a champion. Some of us even have a small brush in the sack to clear all obstacles to make the marble journey into the hole as smooth as possible.  I submerge myself into the game so much and forget about my sorrow until my father calls me for our trip. I gather my marbles, my winnings, and I leave. My friend Renata says, „See you at the Bible.“

We are on our bikes, my brother on a small seat mounted on my mom’s bike, I on my small blue bike, my father completing our peloton. We are heading toward the church garden in the center of our small town. We park the bikes, my father takes me by my hand and we enter the dark  church. 

We run into the priest right behind the door. He bows to my father, shakes his hand, touches the crown of my head and tugs gently my braid secured with two plastic cherries attached to a hair tie. My father says:

  „I heard Marketka showed interest in your class, the Bible studies. That is why we came. She is disappointed we decided it would make her schedule too full. At least for this school year.“ 

The priest looks at me, smiles and says:  „I understand.“

„But I want to study the Bible.“ I say sheepishly.

„I know you do, but I know what we can do. I will give you a book with beautiful stories from the Bible, your father can read them to you and you will be learning just as much. Just a minute.“

The priest disappears and I shiver, it is cold in the church and it is so dark here. I look around and see beautiful furniture carved from dark shiny wood along the wall,  I hear fast footsteps far away, shoes loudly tapping on the stone floor, then a heavy door clung close somewhere. It smells funny and it is spooky here. I look at my Dad, he squeezes my hand and I say,:

 „Daddy...“ but I got scared by the echo of my own voice as I spoke louder than I wanted and before I managed to continue the priest returned with a large beautifully looking book.

„Thank you.“ My dad and I say in unison. My father shakes the priest’s hand and the priest looks into my fathers eyes and says „I understand professor Kaněra, I do, and I appreciate so much you came to speak to me. Thank you and God bless you. Thank you again.“ 

He shakes my hand and off we go.

I have to squint my eyes outside as the light is bright and it feels so warm. I carry the book and  I am quiet. My dad is quiet, too. Each of us for a different reason.

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It would be less than a year before the Bible studies closed its doors for the next two decades. It would take those two decades for any teacher to freely enter the church without the priest admiring their bravery to do so.

It took me  many years to find out the real meaning of the priest's sincere thanks to my father for stopping by the church. It would take an equal number of years to understand why it would not have been wise for my parents to allow  me to join the Bible studies. 

We lived in a strange world lacking free choices and dignity, but abounding with unbecoming  rules to be followed.  Perhaps that October day in 1970 was one of the first hard ones for my young parents as they were facing the challenges of keeping integrity with their consciousness, and with great tasks to protect the life of their young family. A life of painful compromises was now affecting not only them, but also their offsprings.

I still have the book that the priest kindly handed me on that October Wednesday. We would read from it every Christmas and Easter about the life of Jesus and those around him. I would have many questions after the chapters and my father would offer answers that I love to listen to. He is the best narrator, changing voices, making faces, offering many registers of the characters‘ laughs and gestures. Just like a real actor would.

And sometimes, when it is quiet, really quiet,  just like it is here now, I replay those Bible stories, hearing my father’s lively  dramatic voice, seeing his kind darting blue eyes, and I marvel at life then,  and I marvel at life now.