Historical setting: 602 C.E. The Cottage in the Vosges Mountains
As the two notable abbots sit by the hearth at this commoner’s table they are meeting here without record.[footnote] Father Columbanus tells of his retreat and speaks of the details of nature he saw just today.
“The earth is making its last flaunting of summer days – the flowers – so many raucous, bright flowers hawking their wares of pollen. The wandering butterflies alight like long-travelers finding an inn and they savor the thirst-quenching moment and drink up the last of the summer’s beverage. Then they flutter up in little eddies two or three together over the meadow before they are on their way again.”
Now I can serve up the abundant gifts of the pollens because we have bees in our shed. I pour a spot of crusty mead into their cups and Brother Servant, the two abbots and I, toast this gift of night and quietness in private with no scribe making a record of it all.
In whispers the Irish Father speaks the prayer. “Stay near us Dear God.”
It is not the unctuous pulpit prayer to bring a stranger to God in from a wandering throng of pilgrims, it is simply the gracious reminder that God is always present.
So, in the impending dark I bring another gift of the bees, a candle to center the table. Brother Servant and I sit on the bench near the door as the pale pool of light spreads onto the faces of these two saints. Anyway, I expect God knows them as saints, regardless of the opinions of the noble bishops of Gaul.
Father Columbanus asks his protégé, “How is it you’ve met Pope Gregory?”
“A benefactor whose name is undoubtedly known to you also…”
“I think I know who you mean.”
“You’ve heard her complaints yourself, no doubt. She is concerned about the rising power of the bishops based only on their earthly titles. She comes to us with a singular focus, overcoming the tugs and temptations of earthly prestige. She generously pours out a rich inheritance to buy a place for a remembrance of Jesus teaching even on earth amid the profane.”
I hear the spirit of my sister, Mary, in their shared secret of a benefactor. Thank you, God, for this glimpse of a beloved spirit present with us, Amen.
(Continues tomorrow)
[footnote] Even amid all the interesting tales and hagiographies available to historians of this time, this blogger offers a meeting off the record because it is still a fictional story; only the spirit of it and the basic facts are true.
Lazarus Ink 