I thought Terd’s comment was totally unfair! I considered jumping off the roof long before I knew we were getting kicked out of our monastery!
“I’m sorry, Jesse,” Terd continued. “I have no right to judge you.”
“Nor I to judge you,” I said, rather perfunctorily and frankly without meaning it.
“Jesse, my life will change because I want it to,” he said. “Yours will change because of someone else’s needs. You believe that is your lot to accept. You may be right. Or wrong. But the one certainty in life is that tomorrow always brings something new and different, a challenge we have to deal with it."
”Unless we're dead," I said.
"That's right," he replied. "You can always pretend you can fly."
I left soon afterward, my heart still angry from being forced to look at myself. As I drove back over the bridge, the river ran far below me, enormously deep and wide and far beyond my control. The mountains filled the horizon as though they were huge problems lying in wait. But soon my fears calmed a bit and my indignation began to ebb as I realized that Terd was correct. He may be misguided in his own plans ... in my opinion ... but I knew indeed I was less than willing to accept change. When I thought of our physical and spiritual home on the mountain about to be sold, I saw us left destitute, possibly unable to survive. But that worry should have always been with us as mendicant monks. Yet we had lived a rather blessed existence for years on the mountain in beautiful surroundings, except for the condition of the Chapter House. Certainly, there was no reason to complain and no reason to assume Our Maker would not continue to care for us. If I could only see with eyes of faith, which is something you'd expect a monk could do with a snap of his fingers. Yet my old self came forth with a vengeance at these times and I looked to the future with fear rather than faith. Truth be told, we often don’t know what we're seeing when we stare at so-called reality, except what someone may have once told us we were looking at.
“I’m sorry, Jesse,” Terd continued. “I have no right to judge you.”
“Nor I to judge you,” I said, rather perfunctorily and frankly without meaning it.
“Jesse, my life will change because I want it to,” he said. “Yours will change because of someone else’s needs. You believe that is your lot to accept. You may be right. Or wrong. But the one certainty in life is that tomorrow always brings something new and different, a challenge we have to deal with it."
”Unless we're dead," I said.
"That's right," he replied. "You can always pretend you can fly."
I left soon afterward, my heart still angry from being forced to look at myself. As I drove back over the bridge, the river ran far below me, enormously deep and wide and far beyond my control. The mountains filled the horizon as though they were huge problems lying in wait. But soon my fears calmed a bit and my indignation began to ebb as I realized that Terd was correct. He may be misguided in his own plans ... in my opinion ... but I knew indeed I was less than willing to accept change. When I thought of our physical and spiritual home on the mountain about to be sold, I saw us left destitute, possibly unable to survive. But that worry should have always been with us as mendicant monks. Yet we had lived a rather blessed existence for years on the mountain in beautiful surroundings, except for the condition of the Chapter House. Certainly, there was no reason to complain and no reason to assume Our Maker would not continue to care for us. If I could only see with eyes of faith, which is something you'd expect a monk could do with a snap of his fingers. Yet my old self came forth with a vengeance at these times and I looked to the future with fear rather than faith. Truth be told, we often don’t know what we're seeing when we stare at so-called reality, except what someone may have once told us we were looking at.
“I sent you to Brother Theresa,” Agnes said to me that evening, “because I hoped you’d talk him out of leaving. An impossible task, no doubt, but worth the effort. Thank you for trying, Brother Jessica.”
“Maybe Terd is right,” I said “Maybe my inclination is to accept what life is going to serve up to me.”
“I think that’s best,” Agnes replied. “But prayer and thoughtful preparation will help.”
“What is YOUR plan, Agnes,” I asked.
“I think to go out back in the hemlocks and smoke my pipe.” he said. “You know we’re allowed to smoke in Fermoy.”
“I had no idea,” I said.
“Irish tradition, I suppose,” said Agnes.
“I meant the hemlocks,” I said. “I thought they were pines.”
“Someone may have told you wrong,” he said.
John Michael Talbot in his more lively days - Prepare Ye The Way
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