114. Truth

 

I had no idea what Alfred's plans were for Julio's interviews. I asked the United State Government Employee to let me know when he took Julio off the monastic schedule so that I didn't wonder where the man was and go searching for him. I really did not want Julio wandering around on his own. I was therefore surprised when our “guest” stepped into the Night Chapel one morning when I expected him to be with the Brothers in The Pit or the Scriptorium.

“Are you lost, Julio?” I said with a smile.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said. “I appreciate the nice food you serve me, but most of the guys are eating the beans and rice and I feel sort of funny about that.”

“You shouldn’t,” I replied. “They are eating what they want … what they’re used to … and so should you.”

I knew how he felt. I had gone back to rice and beans and I’m not sure if the reason was simply because that’s what I was used to or if I felt a bit like Julio.

“Could I eat just the beans and rice if I wanted?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, “if you think you can get used to it.”

“Why is she wearing glasses?” he asked.

“Who?” I replied. I followed his gaze and saw he was looking at the stained glass window.

“The angel,” he said. “She’s wearing glasses.”

“That’s St. Lucy,” I replied, “the patron saint of eyes. She’s been known to help people to see better.”

“She’s gorgeous!” he said, “but aren’t the saints all old people?”

“You mean from centuries ago?” I said. “Not all, but I think St. Lucy is from around 300 A.D., almost two thousand years ago.”

“Yeah, so how would she have glasses to wear two thousand years ago?”

“Well, it’s a painting on glass,” I said “No one knows if St. Lucy was pretty or ever got old or anything else about her, so the artist was free to see his own truth in the legend of the woman.”

“But he put glasses on somebody from back when there were dinosaurs,” said Julio, his biology askew. “You’d think an artsy guy would know there wasn’t no glasses that far back.”

“Literally, that’s true,” I said, thinking this might be a good time to give our guest a lesson in the evanescent.  “But sometimes the artist wants to say something subtly, so he includes a symbol in the painting.

“Her glasses are a symbol?” Julio asked.  “Of what?”.

“Maybe her acuity in seeing the truth of things most of us would miss,” I said, stretching a little.  “Because sometimes the truth is invisible and we don’t see it.”

“And sometimes,” he said, “we just see what we want to see.”

And my favorite Lauper performance.