The narrator has been visiting Trappist monasteries as part of a writing assignment. Each time the monks start chanting psalms, long-blocked memories of his dead son Michael come back to him. He's just had a particularly powerful experience of sudden grief at Gethsemani Abbey.
As the monks walked by me on their way to their rooms, I was startled to hear my name whispered. Turning around, I came face to face with my old seminary classmate, Tom Barett, now known as Father Daniel. He was thinner than he had been when he had once emphatically dumped me with a cross-body block during a football game. But I felt the raw strength in the arm he threw around my shoulders, as he squeezed and half-carried me along into the preau, a small garden that formed the core of the monastery quadrangle.
He responded immediately to my shaken appearance and asked what was the matter. The pain pushed aside any bravado and in a rush I told him about Michaelís death, the experiences Iíd had in other abbeys, and what had just taken place inside the church. Tom had been standing in front of me with his arms folded, listening. When I finished, he nodded and said, ìHeís after you.î Then, nodding again, as though saying the words had made him more certain of his conclusion, he repeated, ìHeís after you.î
I said nothing in reply. The thought made me sick. Tom continued, explaining how he believed God never stops trying to draw us close to him. ìIf we resist,î he said, ìhe finds ways to get through our barriers. Iím positive heís reaching out to you, and your experience just now is an example. Iím just as certain that your continued involvement with us is no coincidence. I think he brought you here for a very special reason.î
I remained silent at first, even though I was tempted to tell Tom that if God was trying to reach me, I was not interested. While I was glad to regain access to my memories of Michael, they did not offset his loss. That thought finally overrode any desire I had to be polite and I blurted out, ìScrew the sadistic son of a bitch.î
Voices of Silence: Lives of the Trappists Today, Frank Bianco
Posted by eshtine at June 30, 2003 11:03 PM