17. Faith

I spent time with Harpo this afternoon.  I’m afraid I don’t have much patience for those who agonize over their doubts.  There are some who are in constant turmoil about   a) the existence of God,  b) God’s plans for the universe, and  c) whether He’s going to send them to hell.  That’s an awful way to spend one’s time, let alone one's life.   I think we can assume that an entity who so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son could certainly be trusted to have your best interests at heart.  Do you think Christ hung on a cross angry over your impure thoughts?

Worrying over our doubts about certain doctrines seems to me a real waste of time.  Why pick only a few, when we should be questioning all of them.

As for the world’s future, we have only an inkling … a tiny one at that … of God’s purposes.  Unless you’re Fundamentalist.  They have everything down pat … and in writing.    It is human to wonder about all of these things, but I think it’s useless to worry about myself.  He's always taken care of me.  Why would that change?   It's better to simply trust.  You know … faith.

The person who may have taught me the most about living a life of faith is Dolly Parton.  We seldom watch television here at Our Lady’s, but one evening the Abbot Brother Saint Florian of Linz - called Sparky, with so many age spots we were reminded of a Dalmatian)wanted to view a televised biography of B-16 ... the former Pope Benedict the 16th, who is Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, and was Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. I turned on the TV a little early and caught the tail end of an interview show just as Dolly was asked if she was religious.  Tearing my eyes upwards from the bottom of the screen,  I tried to focus on her smile as she answered.  She always had faith, she said, but made a decision each day to lead her life as though her faith was valid and to act like she meant it, even during times when doubts assailed her.  I don’t know why her words impressed me so, but I could spend years in theology classes and not come up with a better plan for how to live a life of faith.  It's not always easy, of course. I’m quite sure everyone who seeks the spiritual life runs into a brick wall now and then.   Most of us have what Cat laughingly calls a  “deep and abiding faith that comes and goes.”

I told Harpo he worried too much.

“Take your mind off your worries and spend it somewhere else.”  I said.  “Find someone to help and you’ll feel better.”

He looked at me.

Shit. There goes my solitude in the cellar.

But then, to accomplish our work well most of us need others .

16. Gorgeous

It’s Saturday night. As long as I live it will always feel special, even though at Our Lady of West Saugerties it's just another sundown. When I was a kid, my Grandmother and I would always watch Saturday Night Wrestling on television in the 1950’s. The entire charade bored me, frankly, but Grandma was a true fan. She would lunge back and forth in her rocking chair, cheering on her half naked champion while I listened with one ear and read ahead in my Geography textbook, “America’s World – from Washington to Peking.” What made the night special was the popcorn and soft drinks she allowed us while we watched Enrique Torres, Don Eagle, Whipper Watson and her all time favorite, Gorgeous George. She took me to see George when he came to town one snowy winter night. I’ll tell you the story sometime.

Did you do your homework regarding St. Jessica? You have no excuse if you failed to do your assignment, because these days it should take only a few clicks on the Internet. In fact, when my cousin Martha Rose and I were together at our last family funeral, she told me that a few clicks did a lot for her. They put her into a lifetime of debt!

Saint Jessica was the wife of Chuza, a steward to King Herod Antipas of Galilee. Did you remember when Mary Magdalen went to the tomb on Easter morning that she was not alone? That’s right, M.M. brought with her two other gals who had been cooking meals and presumably washing and ironing for Jesus and the Apostles. One of them was Jessica. I don’t know if Mr. Chuza knew of his wife’s activities, but for her efforts she became a saint and received perpetual care in heaven, so to speak. So you never know. You should be nice to anyone calling himself the Son of Man, especially if he's Jewish.  I think my patron saint, Jessica, has a sense of humor, so I’m not worried about offending her. As for the Son of Man, there is no question he has a sense of humor, and I’ve learned it’s quite well developed.

One Way Out - The Allman Brothers

15. Fear

There is ill feeling between Terd and Agnes.  Like most of the Brothers,  Terd joined in the whisperings and mild complaints about Agnes when the boat from Ireland hove to and deposited the new Abbot here in West Saugerties.  But as the months wore on and most of us became used to the little Irishman and his peculiarities,  Terd’s  attitude worsened.  Over the past few weeks his comments have at times been ugly.  One might assume Terd’s attitude toward his abbot severely worsened when he was told by Agnes that I would be the new errand boy and driver.  Terd said he was not bothered in the least, but I knew better.

At the hospital yesterday,  I could see anger in the big man’s eyes as the policemen accosted him.   But worse,  when Agnes took charge of the melee, a cold hard fury burst across Terd’s face.  I can understand the human aspect of a large and physically superior, as well as highly educated,  man being annoyed when a chirping leprechaun steps in to save the day.  But the depth of Terd’s contempt left me frightened.  I have known the man for years and love him as a brother, but I am beginning to fear the person who may be emerging from his anger.  And I do not understand why he so dislikes Agnes.

More Cow bell!

14. Emergency Room

XIV. Emergency Room
Harpo (Brother Father Saint Gertrude) fell down the steps into the cellar this morning when he came looking for me.  I feel so bad because I ignored his call from the top of the stairs, hoping to avoid conversation with him.   I’m allowed to ignore everyone except Abbot Agnes until evening, because our rule allows conversation only after supper and not during the day, when of course it would make more sense to allow communication, especially if we’re working on projects around the monastery.  But as my Novice Master once told me long ago, “If God had wanted the world to make sense, He would have left out humans.”

We took Harpo down to the new emergency room in Kingston.  We didn’t change our clothes, but went immediately in our work robes,  Terd leading the way in through that giant revolving door.  I can’t blame the lady for calling Security, who immediately called the Police.  If you saw ten robed and bearded men carrying an eleventh into your lobby, led by a giant resembling that big fellow in the Harry Potter movies, you’d probably leak yourself into your boots too!  (Yes, we’re all Harry Potter fans!)

Terd did not take too kindly to the little policemen as they bounced around him.  Agnes stepped in to save Terd … a role reversal if there ever was one.  Guns were about to be drawn and the poor lady behind the desk dropped down out of sight to sit on her soggy boots.  Agnes shouted, “Vos adversus Deus,”  in the words of the First Martyr St. Stephen.  We dropped to our knees and held out our crucifixes, our standard group action when attacked by humans.  (A crucifix doesn’t impress a bear.  For that eventuality,  we carry our illegal .357 in the woods.)

Most of us were directed by the police to return to the SUV while Agnes and Cat accompanied Harpo through his treatment.  A sprain only, thank The Lord.  Old Harpo should be as good as new in no time.  And I’ll talk to him all he wants about his depressing thoughts and doubts.

13. Agnes and Terd

Agnes came to Saugerties from our Brothers in Ireland as a designated Abbot, a rather unusual turn of events since we would normally elect our own from among us.  We took his arrival to mean we were in trouble.  At the time we didn't realize how much.

The Abbot Agnes is really a nice guy, but I suppose he has to maintain some level of separateness from us so that he can lead.  Therefore a certain amount of friction is bound to exist between the brothers and Agnes, although I don’t remember much tension surrounding Sparky, our previous abbot.   So I think the main problem with Agnes is his personality.  He’s a bit hard-nosed, even for an abbot.  Terd .. Brother Theresa … normally runs interference for the Abbot on any chores that need to be done outside of Our Lady, or “off planet” as we say. 

It’s only been lately that I’ve been asked to run errands in the village, getting plumbing parts and what not.  Terd always ran around in the SUV getting parts and other chores, but since Agnes arrived, Terd isn’t allowed out without a chaperone.  Instead, Agnes has asked me to travel into town.  I don’t mind, of course, but I feel bad for Terd.  From what I heard, Terd went with Agnes only once before being fired as the Abbot’s driver.  (Agnes needs a driver, having come from a left hand drive country and not being very alert.)

Down in the village, Agnes got into an argument with the nice people at the appliance store when he insisted they should be able to fix our fifty-five year old refrigerator.  Terd explained to the lady in the nicest way possible that “my lord and master doesn't know what he's talking about."  Addressing the Abbot in the presence of others as if Agnes  were bumbling royalty set Agnes off, but his anger did draw attention away from the issue at hand.  While the distracted Abbot launched into a brogue laden monologue on his humble status in the world, Terd placed an order for a new refrigerator.  Terd was a Rhodes Scholar years ago, and is a recognized expert on the writings of Athanasius.  He is a huge guy and has been known at times to impose his physical presence on anyone by placing himself directly in front of the person, the crucifix slung across his massive chest not 4 inches from the other’s nose, saying not a word.  When Terd bears down on you like that, he doesn’t need to tell you he owns the air you are breathing. 
Each in his own way is a big noise.

12. Kokomo

I’ve begun setting the type for the wedding invitation. I can’t wait till it’s time to ink up the press. I’m addicted to the smell of ink. There’s an old printer in Saugerties I used to visit just so I could breathe in the ink! He helped me master the art of makeready when the Abbot Agnes allowed me to get the old press running again.

Of course, it's the young lady who ordered the invitations and who stars in my fantasy, even though I haven’t met her. I see us going off for our honeymoon on a car trip to the Poconos or the Big Horn Mountains to fish for rainbow trout or somewhere else just as exciting. Guess that’s rather tame compared to the wedding trips I hear modern young couples take.

"Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take ya;
Bermuda, Bahama come on pretty mama;
Key Largo, Montego baby why don't we go?
Down to Kokomo."

I can play that song on my guitar just like the Beach Boys, but not when Abbot Agnes is around.

 

11. Habit

And  I  meant  to  say thank you  to” Pasta Fasul”  in  Mt. Marion for his offer of clothing, but we’d rather have drapes or large pieces of heavy material. We wear “off planet clothing” as we call it only when needed for safety.  Normally we wear a simple monk’s robe over our jeans, T-shirt and boots.  We make our robes.  We just sewed up a few from old drapes given to us by a local funeral parlor. 

You could call my robe a habit, for it is our official dress.  But we just call it a robe.  In medieval times that was all a monk wore, no underclothes and often no sandals.  We’re more practical, but no more wealthy than our predecessors.  I’m sure a monk from the 12^th century would have worn jeans and sneakers or boots if he had been able to get them used from a “free store” or a clothing bank as we do.