(no subject)
From the paper journal of Father Simon Terrence, St. Francis of Assisi
Wed, March 15, 2006
An exciting morning! Our visitor, Father Christopher, arrived quite unexpectedly this morning, two days ahead of schedule. Apparently there was some mixup at the Archdiocese. They called only ten minutes before his taxi pulled up to our door to inform us of the error. Fortunately Mrs. Molnar finished cleaning his room only yesterday, bless her heart. Her motto is a stitch in time saves nine, and we can only continue to be grateful for her frightening efficiency. I do not think he noticed, though I'm afraid I was rather flustered, and answered the door still wearing the bonnet young Maria insisted on for her tea party. He was kind enough to pretend not to notice until Mrs. Molnar brought it to my attention.
I must admit that Father Christopher came as something of a shock to me. Through no one's fault but my own, I had somehow come to imagine that he would be my age or older, perhaps scholarly, and that we would have similar experiences in our backgrounds. I'm afraid I had grown quite fond of my entirely mythical colleague, and was anticipating many pleasant conversations together in the library.
The real man himself was something entirely different than my harmless little fantasy. For one thing, he is quite thirty years younger than I am, and has the air of a man who has experienced things I would hesitate to even imagine. Unfortunately, he is also handsome in a way that will cause no small excitement in our little parish. I caught Sister Angelica admiring him through the kitchen window while he helped Mrs. Molnar with the garden. I reproached her for it. She informed me that though her vows prevented her from lusting, she could not as a child of God be so ungrateful as to not look when He presented her with so beautiful an example of His work. I am ashamed to admit that I was rather flustered by her reply, and was unable to present an argument sensible enough to satisfy her.
I have been reluctant to inquire too much into Father Christopher's background or his previous postings. In the first few hours, I admit that I found him somewhat alarming. His physical presence is such that he is almost intimidating, although he has yet to raise his voice. Already he has impressed me as a man of great energy and passion. I suspect that the vows of humility and chastity must chafe on so strong a personality. He strikes me as a man who is very difficult to read, and yet he has been nothing but open and courteous to us all, even under very trying conditions. I foolishly neglected to warn him about the southwest corner of the roof, and as a result, he was the unhappy recipient of a sudden waterfall that I am sure must have shocked several years off his life. I would not blame him at all for having un-Christian feelings towards me for the error, but he controlled himself quite admirably and went off to change his clothes without a word of reproach.
Mrs. Molnar, who took him towels, reports that he is covered with scars, both fresh and old. I scolded her for having intruded on Father Christopher's privacy, but I'm afraid my curiosity was such that I did not have the heart. I must remember my inveterate sin the next time I go to confession.
He is not, I think, a comfortable man, although he is a surprisingly restful one when he chooses to be. To my surprise, I found myself holding a very enjoyable conversation with him regarding a dubious translation of Herodotus he found in my library. (I must remember to return the text to Professor Muth. I cannot imagine what he thinks of my tardiness. I will do it immediately, after lunch.) He is, not unnaturally, very curious about the church and its members. I have promised to present him on Sunday. Surely a little curiosity will not be inappropriate before then, if I am to introduce him to the parish? I confess that I quite look forward to their reactions on meeting him.
Indeed, Father Christopher is so armored and gives the impression of such balance? poise? strength that I was beginning to feel quite cowed, when I unexpectedly caught him in an unguarded moment in the church. Quite by accident, I surprised such a look on his face that gave me pause. I would not for the world let him know that I saw him at such a moment, when the heart of him was exposed naked to God, but I confess that I was somewhat reassured at having that glimpse into the man. I had been doubting the wisdom of the Archdiocese in sending him here, but surely we can help him find some peace and sanctuary from whatever troubles him. If his faith is wavering, if he is truly so desolate as to fall into despair, I can but believe that nothing to restore it more quickly than to work with the loving members of this parish, with their charming, warm-hearted desire to do good.
My cat appears to like him a great deal. I am afraid she continues to be remorseless in her fickle, wayward ways.
From Christopher Rossi to Cap. Joyce Reynolds
I'm in.
Wed, March 15, 2006
An exciting morning! Our visitor, Father Christopher, arrived quite unexpectedly this morning, two days ahead of schedule. Apparently there was some mixup at the Archdiocese. They called only ten minutes before his taxi pulled up to our door to inform us of the error. Fortunately Mrs. Molnar finished cleaning his room only yesterday, bless her heart. Her motto is a stitch in time saves nine, and we can only continue to be grateful for her frightening efficiency. I do not think he noticed, though I'm afraid I was rather flustered, and answered the door still wearing the bonnet young Maria insisted on for her tea party. He was kind enough to pretend not to notice until Mrs. Molnar brought it to my attention.
I must admit that Father Christopher came as something of a shock to me. Through no one's fault but my own, I had somehow come to imagine that he would be my age or older, perhaps scholarly, and that we would have similar experiences in our backgrounds. I'm afraid I had grown quite fond of my entirely mythical colleague, and was anticipating many pleasant conversations together in the library.
The real man himself was something entirely different than my harmless little fantasy. For one thing, he is quite thirty years younger than I am, and has the air of a man who has experienced things I would hesitate to even imagine. Unfortunately, he is also handsome in a way that will cause no small excitement in our little parish. I caught Sister Angelica admiring him through the kitchen window while he helped Mrs. Molnar with the garden. I reproached her for it. She informed me that though her vows prevented her from lusting, she could not as a child of God be so ungrateful as to not look when He presented her with so beautiful an example of His work. I am ashamed to admit that I was rather flustered by her reply, and was unable to present an argument sensible enough to satisfy her.
I have been reluctant to inquire too much into Father Christopher's background or his previous postings. In the first few hours, I admit that I found him somewhat alarming. His physical presence is such that he is almost intimidating, although he has yet to raise his voice. Already he has impressed me as a man of great energy and passion. I suspect that the vows of humility and chastity must chafe on so strong a personality. He strikes me as a man who is very difficult to read, and yet he has been nothing but open and courteous to us all, even under very trying conditions. I foolishly neglected to warn him about the southwest corner of the roof, and as a result, he was the unhappy recipient of a sudden waterfall that I am sure must have shocked several years off his life. I would not blame him at all for having un-Christian feelings towards me for the error, but he controlled himself quite admirably and went off to change his clothes without a word of reproach.
Mrs. Molnar, who took him towels, reports that he is covered with scars, both fresh and old. I scolded her for having intruded on Father Christopher's privacy, but I'm afraid my curiosity was such that I did not have the heart. I must remember my inveterate sin the next time I go to confession.
He is not, I think, a comfortable man, although he is a surprisingly restful one when he chooses to be. To my surprise, I found myself holding a very enjoyable conversation with him regarding a dubious translation of Herodotus he found in my library. (I must remember to return the text to Professor Muth. I cannot imagine what he thinks of my tardiness. I will do it immediately, after lunch.) He is, not unnaturally, very curious about the church and its members. I have promised to present him on Sunday. Surely a little curiosity will not be inappropriate before then, if I am to introduce him to the parish? I confess that I quite look forward to their reactions on meeting him.
Indeed, Father Christopher is so armored and gives the impression of such balance? poise? strength that I was beginning to feel quite cowed, when I unexpectedly caught him in an unguarded moment in the church. Quite by accident, I surprised such a look on his face that gave me pause. I would not for the world let him know that I saw him at such a moment, when the heart of him was exposed naked to God, but I confess that I was somewhat reassured at having that glimpse into the man. I had been doubting the wisdom of the Archdiocese in sending him here, but surely we can help him find some peace and sanctuary from whatever troubles him. If his faith is wavering, if he is truly so desolate as to fall into despair, I can but believe that nothing to restore it more quickly than to work with the loving members of this parish, with their charming, warm-hearted desire to do good.
My cat appears to like him a great deal. I am afraid she continues to be remorseless in her fickle, wayward ways.
From Christopher Rossi to Cap. Joyce Reynolds
I'm in.