The Scholarship

THE ESSAYS-Chapter Nine

Contestant #5: Harrison Kershaw

I grew up in the apartment above the Community Outreach shelter in the West Pullman neighborhood of Chicago. I've spent the entire 16 years of my life eating meals in the homeless shelter my parents run. 

 I attend Fenger Academy High School in Roseland, which is a 30-minute commute for me whether I walk or take the bus. Our public transportation system here on the south side isn't exactly stellar, but there's a promise that the L's red line is finally going to reach us. Of course, I'll be in my 20's by that time, but my parents are hopeful. They think it will be good for our neighborhood to have better transportation options, but they also worry about housing spikes that will make it so a lot of us can't afford to live here anymore. 

 Some months my parents can barely make ends meet, but they want to stay and help as many people as they can.

My parents are two of the best people I know. They sacrifice so much in order to help our neighborhood homeless, and, unfortunately, there are many of them. My parents rely on donations and government funding to keep their shelter operating, but some months I know it's all they can do to keep the doors open.

My parents are not what I would call religious. Even though we attend the weekly meetings at the Unitarian Universalist church, my parents are technically atheists. They prefer to call themselves humanitarians. They believe in doing all things for the greater good of all people. It's probably why they run a homeless shelter. So you can imagine their surprise when I came home one day last year and announced I wanted to be a Catholic priest. This is what happened:

My best friend from school was Catholic. In fact, Jake's parents work for the Catholic Charities based out of Roseland. They help people all over Cook County, so Jake and I had a lot in common. When I'm not volunteering at the Community Outreach run by my parents, I'm helping Jake's parents. I'm proud to say I inherited my parents' passion for service. I just didn't inherit their disbelief in God.

When we were 14, Jake invited me to a youth group lock-in at his church. I had to explain to my parents what that meant, although they didn't know why anyone would want to spend the night in a Catholic Church unless it was on a dare, but they gave me permission to attend. It was one of the most amazing nights of my life.

A young couple from Jake's church was in charge of the youth group, and they organized the whole night. They had games and movies and places where we could sleep if we got tired. The girls had one room, and the boys had another. I didn't sleep at all! There was more junk food there than I had ever seen in my fourteen years put together. 

 We played a two-hour game of flashlight tag where I almost won. Unfortunately, I accidentally hid in Father Mark's office and was caught by Father Mark himself. I wasn't sure if I wasn't allowed in there, but the door was unlocked. Little did I know Father Mark left it unlocked because he was coming right back.

When he came in the room and turned on the light, I jumped up and screamed, "Hey! That's cheating!" I'm sure my face turned bright red when I saw Jake's priest standing there looking equally surprised. He was very nice about it and even apologized for scaring me. He had forgotten about the lock-in and said I was free to hide in his office any time. I thanked him and left to find Jake.

Two weeks after the lock-in, Jake committed suicide. 

 His parents were devastated, and so was I. They told me Jake had been in counseling because he had been sexually abused by a priest at his church. I asked them if it was Father Mark, but they told me it had been a long time ago and that priest was long gone from their church.

 I asked them why their God would let this happen, but they said it wasn't God who let this happen; it was imperfect people. They said they weren't mad at God, but instead turned to him for comfort in difficult times. I asked them if it would be okay if I turned to God, too. It made me wonder who my parents turned to when they were sad or angry.

Soon after Jake was gone, I went to see Father Mark. I told him I'd like to hide in his office again for awhile, if that was okay with him. He told me it was. I asked him if he knew about what happened to Jake, and he told me he did. For the second time, Father Mark apologized to me.

"But it wasn't you, right?" I asked him.

"No, Harrison, it was not, but I still feel responsible for what happened to Jake. I feel as though I should have known," he said with tears in his eyes.

"Why would a man of God do that?" I asked him. "Why become a man of God if you're just going to embarrass Him?"

"Those are good questions, son," he told me. "Questions I wish we never had to ask," he added with sadness in his voice.

Father Mark and I became good friend over the next year. We would spend hours talking about God and religion and everything else Jake and I used to talk about. The closer I got to Father Mark, the more I wanted to be like him. I also wanted to somehow even out the universe for Jake's sake. I felt called to the priesthood.

When I first told my parents, I think they thought my desire to enter the priesthood would eventually pass. I stopped going to the Unitarian church and started attending church with Jake's parents. To their credit, my parents were nothing but supportive. They always encouraged me to be my own person and do what I thought was right. They stood by what they had always told me, even if they didn't agree with me.

One night not too long ago, I heard my parents talking in whispered tones. I guess they thought I was asleep because they were sitting at our small kitchen table right outside my bedroom door. I was laying in bed praying, but I heard my name and my curiosity got the best of me. I tiptoed to the closed door and listened.

"I just don't know where we went wrong," I heard my mother say. "The search for understanding after Jake's death, I understand, but a priest?" My father said something I didn't catch, but it made my mother laugh. "Oh, stop it," she said to my dad. I did hear what my dad said next.

"You know, Susan, in all seriousness, I think Harrison is doing a wonderful, selfless thing. He has a big heart and a desire to serve others," he said. "He just wants to help people in his own way." I stopped listening then because I had heard everything I needed to know I was doing the right thing.

My parents did sit me down and explain to me about the high costs of college and how they won't be able to help me pay for it. Then there is seminary. If I can get my college education paid for through a scholarship, then I can work while going to school and save money for seminary.

 I know I can serve others by working with my parents in the shelter, but I want to do the work that I feel God has called me to do. I want to keep Jake's memory alive through my faith and my service to God.