The New ScapularrnAIDS and the Wrath of Godrnby John Patrick ZmirakrnWhen I was in Catholic high school, some 15 years ago,rneven as the last of the marble altars were being pulledrnout of America’s churches, the ornate wooden confessionals uprootedrnin favor of plywood-and-plexiglass “reconciliationrnrooms,” one devotional custom persisted from centuries before,rnin the undershirts and blouses of the Vinnics, Patricks, andrnMarias at Mater Christi High School in Astoria, Queens: thernwearing of the scapular. Perhaps because of its simplicity, becausernof its deep roots in the culture, in the example of grandfatherrnand older sister and Mama, or maybe thanks to rank superstition,rnthis devotion seemed likely to survive therniconoclastic frenzy unleashed by Vatican II. Consisting of twornsquare pieces of brown rough cloth linked by a string, thernscapular bears an image of Our Lady of Mount Carmel and carriesrna promise that he who wears it faithfully will die in a staternof grace—that Our Lady will intervene and place him if not inrnHeaven, at least on the bottom rung of Purgatory, which isrnabout as high as most Catholic teenagers back then were aiming-rnOf course, this promise was hedged about with all sorts ofrntheological restrictions, warnings from dusty French theologiansrnabout “presuming on God’s mercy” and “the need for arnpenitential life”—^but none of these were heeded by us feckless,rn]ohn Patrick Zmirak is a doctoral candidate in English atrnLouisiana State University, writing his dissertation on thernnovels of Walker Percy.rnfantastical teenagers. We knew a loophole when we saw one.rnSo in those months when we were unwilling to crawl into thern”reconciliation room” and repent of the dreary list of impurities,rnblasphemies, intemperance, gluttony, and rebellion thatrndescribed most of our waking hours, we were careful to put onrnour scapulars—especially before climbing in a Pinto behind arndrunken driver.rnThings are different now. I do not know whether the kids Irnran around with in high school are still wearing their scapulars,rnor whether any of them frequent the “reconciliation rooms”rnanymore. They were surely married in church, and a goodrnnumber of them probably still make it to Mass each week. Ifrnthey conform to statistics, half of them have done their dutyrnand divorced. Of these, the most devout are filing for annulments.rnThis last group is the most likely still to be wearingrnscapulars. But perhaps the custom is dying out after all. WhenrnI pass my old high school—since renamed and repopulated—rnI see more gang colors than little brown tags with Our Lady onrnthem.rnI spend much more time in Manhattan than in Astoria,rnnow. It is there that I see another curious religious custom,rnwhich seems to have arisen to replace the scapular, although itrnhas taken root among a different sort of people. I am talking,rnof course, about the little red AIDS ribbon, which adorns thernlapels (often in enameled, I8-karat form) of America’s artistic/rnmanagerial class, the well-intentioned liberals who mug forrnus and mug us. (Try to spot someone at the Tonys or the Os-rnDECEMBER 1994/23rnrnrn