Struggling against the Thorns

One side of love arises from the darker depths of the heart.  It pines and spits, seeking after lusts and desires it cannot obtain.  This ‘love’ lowers man.  It drives us to kill, to hate, to destroy.  Like fire’s own dark side, it consumes and devours, leaving not but charred remains in its wake.  This is the ‘love’ which has started wars.  This is the ‘love’ which has shed blood, which has whispered lies in the night and secretly slit the throats of many a man’s character.  This ‘love’ is man’s darkest sin: a vile abomination of pride and unbridled lust.  Should we remain in it, we have not to hope for but an eternity in death and pain.

But what of love’s other side? What of Love?  For this, converse to its shadow brother, is not man’s greatest sin but man’s highest virtue.  It is in Love that we find mercy, compassion, charity, joy, life.  Love unites, Love creates.  This Love proceeds from the Lord of the Springs, indeed, the very waters of grace of which we so oft speak is in fact this Love.  This is the Love invested and given to the Church to guard and govern.  This is the Love that saves us, the Love that breaks the bonds of sin and sets man free. Love is the greatest thing that we can ever hope for.  Indeed, the clergy are not only asked to Love, but fundamentally obligated to.  For the cloth shall amount to not unless it is sown from the threads of Love.  It is in Love that the Priest finds his celibacy, the purity that allows his Love to transcend, making the Church his spouse and the laity, his dearest children.  This Love is the fire that comforts. The warmth that burns in the hearth of home where families are united, friends share their joy, and before which holy life is lived out.  We must remain in it if we ever hope for anything good in this life or the next.

Consider, friends, St. Celeste, the martyr true.

Consider, children, her innocent youth.

Consider, my lords, her common blood, made higher than yours by her humility.

Consider, poor, her life of simplicity.

Consider, priest, her devotion to that Spring.

And consider, O Piuso, her blameless rose.

I hold these papers in my hands, their long spidery handwriting blurring away in the dim candle light.

“So it comes to this.”

I look out to my flock, an expanse that stretches far out before me, pure white. I can see the wolves prowling upon the edges. The sheep panic, the rams quarrel with one another. The wolves laugh.

And here I am, upon the bluff.  Behind us, a storm is quickly bearing down. There is shelter, but we shall not reach it in time.  O Lord, what are we to do?

I take up my pen, the words seem to form upon the pale paper before me.  Grave words, words that shall echo through the centuries. For eternal memory, for better or for worse.  Finally, it has finished and my hand hovers now over the final spot.  Shall my name be put to this? Shall I now accept the words here and whatever blood or pain may come thereto.  Yes, I must.

So there it is, a name signed in my life blood as much as it is in this sable ink.  This Urth shall not forget, though I wish it would.

Red wax, a gold seal. It is done.

They tell us that as Priests, we must be prepared to be all things to all people.  One moment, we welcome a newborn into the world and share the joy of the parents.  The next, we could be sharing the lives of our flock, their daily struggles and challenges, helping them fight sins and turn to good.  And the very next, you very well could be with a man on his deathbed, preparing him for his resignation from the world and ascent to our Lord.  It seems a difficult task, almost impossible, but somehow, we do it.

But what are we to do when we are faced with peoples who do not even share our Faith? We adjure them, turn them to the Truth.  But what if this said heathen in the Princess of Daravi and her companion, run from the murderous torments of a land ruled by sin and magery.  Well, I came to the answer of that question, one frankly, I never thought to ask myself before.

My decision will likely ruffle a few feathers amongst the prelates. No matter, their feathers need rustling sometimes, keeps them on their toes.  I have allowed the Princess and Laila to walk free.  They do not believe in the works of the Springs and I know that.  Some would have them burned or left to rot in that place forever, but no. I shall not have that sin on my heart.  Hm? You question its a sin, aye, it is.  She is a refugee and a soul that may one day be won for the Lord.  But I can say now, the Light of the Lord’s grace rarely can break the shadows of that Tower, oh how I despise that place.  Far too many have only had their contempt for the Church increased in its bowels. Its a necessary evil, but I would rather see our prisoners moved out of there and to conversion quickly, not left to pine over how much they hate us for being left in there.  So, yes, I have let the Daravi go, with the King’s leave of course, though I doubt he would of given it unless I had so advocated it.  The Knights’ll have my head for it, I’m sure, but I’ve made the right choice.

I am eager for out first session together, when I can manage it.  The Daravi are an unknown, an unknown the Church shall soon be faced with.  We must have an advocate for Truth amongst the people.  whether she knows it or not, the Princess is to be the Lord’s envoy to her people soon enough.  Priests will one day have to combat their heresies and we must know how. It shall go a long way to have an ally in this fight, for it shall be long, long indeed.  Anyways, I felt no comfort in keeping her there.  If she can agree to not disturb our peace, I feel she has a much better chance at salvation without the cell.  Pray the people give her that chance.

Oh, my Lord, to what does it profit that you should bring me here.  I am young, far before the age and wisdom my blessed predecessors have wielded so powerfully for Your name.  I have so much fear, so much uncertainty in my position. I look about and see the lives and holy work of so many clergy who have dedicated themselves to You far longer than I and it is I who am to be their Father? Oh, I shall need so many of your graces if this is to come to anything good, O Lord.

But even as I say these words, I feel the guilt which I have incured in questioning Your wisdom, that Holy Wisdom far beyond our own comprehensions, for You indeed see much that we cannot.  Yet,  O Lord, might you deign to stoop to my lowly ear and hearten a heart that feels so unready?

I know now this, my Lord, that I cannot hope to this without you.  Should I step out upon my own accord, wrap myself about with titles, silver, gold, and silks, I shall surely fall.  For the things of this world are but temporary, dust in the mighty winds of time.  For all powers shall crumble before You, all riches, all joys cannot stand unless they are rooted in you.  So make it so, my Lord! Make it so that whatever good I might by Your grace bring into this world not pass onto me for my glory, but unto You for Your glory and that it may be rooted forever in You.  For I have but one wish, but one desperate prayer: that all I have done may not come to not, that by some miracle, that when they bear up my casket and cover me with the cold Urth from whence I proceeded forth, there may be but one glimmer of light, one tiny candle in the great shadow, which may somehow be attributed to me.  And obtain for me also, Lord, that though that candle was lit by my hand, they shall not remember the hand, but the flame and when they see the flame, they shall remember its true origin: You.

So, Tenebrae, you reveal your true purpose for what it is, hmm?  While you wear that shadowy guise of a ‘friend of the people’ you have made the blunder which confirms what I have known all along: you care nothing for the people of the Southside, they are but pawns in your hands.  You care little for their struggles, you seek only to use them in your vain attempt to claw your way to power!

You have begun killing, and in killing, you have shown us that anyone who represents a threat to your little ‘kingdom’ in the south of the city must die, no matter how much support and love they give to your supposedly beloved people.  Well, know this, Tenebrae, the Church will live up to its mission to help the poor and we will fulfill our solemn duty to save them all from oppression, your oppression.

Your move, old friend.