The Mission
Brother Thomas looked for Brother Will after the evening meal, and found him in the Library, peering at the shelves of books.
“Looking to see which ones need to be returned to the public library?”
“Yes,” Will said, “and making a list of new books to check out. Are there any you want to get?”
“I’ll give it some thought.” Thomas absently reached out to touch the spine of a book. “This visitor, Joseph Mallory. He’s been here a week, now. What do you make of him, Will? Any ideas on why he sought us out?”
Will’s face contorted in thought as he considered the question.
Waiting for Will’s answer, Thomas wondered if Mallory might harbor an interest in monastery life. After all, places for meditative retreat—cabins for rent, city hotel rooms, even a church pew—abounded. But the man had ended up here. Thomas felt a surge of interest at the idea of a new member, someone with a fresh perspective, unexplored ideas. Of course, a new man would change the dynamics of the brothers’ relationships, and maybe not necessarily for the better. But, he was getting ahead of himself. Besides, chances were, Mallory wanted just a simple retreat, as he’d said.
“What’s he doing here?” Will said, interrupting the older monk’s thoughts. “Well, he spends his afternoons out on the dunes with his dog.” Will was not given to abstract speculation about others’ motives. His parents, deeply Catholic, had pointed their strong son, who was not the brightest, and who had a mild form of epilepsy, toward the sheltering family of the Benedictines.
“Oh? Has he spoken about it?” Thomas asked.
“No, we don’t talk much. But Moka, his dog, has wet, sandy paws when they get back.”
“Hmmm. Very observant of you, Brother Will.”
Will beamed.
Thomas smiled, then left the Library, intending to read before Nightly Prayer. He wondered what Mallory’s story was. Would the man take up his invitation to talk? Would he express an interest in the monastic life?
Each person here had strong reasons for becoming a monk in addition to the requisite Christian faith. Sometimes, it was guilt coupled with a desire to turn one’s life toward a new path, a second chance. For Thomas, it had been the death of his wife, who he had loved beyond himself. He’d been driving that night, a Christmas Eve, and in spite of fatigue and one too many eggnogs, wouldn’t pull over, wouldn’t let Carol drive. Afterward, in the face of unspoken condemnation from Carol’s family and his own, it had seemed that the only source of forgiveness was God.
By nature an introverted man, he’d sought a place away from the loud and glaring world of reminders, a place where he might feel accepted in spite of his sins. He found solace with the Benedictines.
