Our evening Chapter of Faults, the tradition handed down to us across the centuries from the great Benedict, is an opportunity for us to confess our individual misdeeds aloud in front of our brothers. It’s a practice that helps each of us to own up to his shortcomings and remember to work on them. We hold Chapter right after supper, a good time to offer an apology when necessary. Terd and Agnes got into an argument tonight at the end of Chapter. It came close to becoming a fist fight.
“Are you not going to acknowledge your indiscretion at the hospital yesterday, Brother Theresa?” asked Agnes, looking over to Terd. This was a public accusation and in our community such is unheard of, even from the Abbot.
“I know none that rise to the level of mentioning, Your Grace,” replied Terd.
“I am not “Your Grace” and you may stop your sarcastic and insulting nonsense, if you please,” said Agnes. I was shocked at the sharp rebuke.
“By your leave, Your Grace,” Terd replied.
“Not at all,” replied Agnes, “but by my lawful order as your Superior!” Agnes said with rising heat.
Terd stood so abruptly from his chair that it flipped over backward and clattered loudly on the floor behind him. I heard him mumble, “my superior?” and he stepped between the tables that loosely form our eating circle. As he stomped toward Agnes, Terd’s huge leg brushed the end of one table and bumped it a few feet to the side, knocking over water glasses and dumping plates on the floor. The seated men sprang to their feet. They immediately rushed up behind Terd and tried to grab his arms just as he reached Agnes. The huge man shrugged off the smaller Brothers. Kickstart simply lost his grip, but Cat held on a second longer and was whipped through the air into another table where he cut his hand trying to stop himself from landing on the dishes. I sat there stupefied, shocked into paralysis. I’m too old for that crap anyway.
Terd came to a stop and stood glaring down at Agnes. Then he bowed his head and said, “I am truly sorry, my brother Agnes.”
But I’m sure it was not an apology. And Terd did not call Agnes his Abbot. I think Terd meant to say, “leave me alone.”
This is just terrible. None of us can live in a group where there is bad feeling. It attacks the soul and festers into resentment and eventual revenge. It is like the toll of a bell heard across the valley in the mid morning that can only mean a funeral has been prepared. My stomach is churning so badly. Why do these two men have to ruin everything for the rest of us? Whatever there is about Agnes that enrages Terd cannot be that bad.
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