Historical setting: A dark age in Gaul
It seems it isn’t death because death doesn’t have touch or taste or an ache in the head. Perhaps this dark is night or maybe I seem to have forgotten how to open my eyes… or move… or make a sound to call for … I’ve forgotten who can come. Perhaps I’ve fallen into a deep abyss of nothing. Maybe this dark isn’t even mine alone. Maybe it is the whole of earth that has turned dark.
Dear God, are you near?
I hear voices of people. Or is it nothing I hear?
There are sounds but my own sounds seem not to be heard.
“A monk, he is. ‘Neith the wound I can see he were shorn a monk!”
“He must have had rich robes that thieves would strip him of everything.”
“I don’t pity him. The rich should know better than travel this road alone. Surely he deserves what he got.”
“Maybe if we report this at the basilica we will be rewarded.”
“You fool! If we tell of this they will think it was us who robbed him. I say we just go before we are seen here.”
Remembering… maybe I’m remembering that I am a wealthy monk … in expensive robes… walking alone on a dangerous road. Maybe it’s the road to Jericho. We walk this way often. Yes. I know this road. I’m sure I know this road… Was I walking here with Jesus? What happened to Jesus?
Dear God, I fear something has happened to my friend Jesus. Please keep watch, dear God. Please watch …
Jesus. Jesus you wanted me to lighten my load of wealth. Why, on this day was I wearing robes of wealth? I thought my sisters gave our father’s riches away to the poor. I can’t remember. Why was I walking this road dressed as a wealthy monk?