Historical setting: 602 C.E. The Vosges Mountains
The night dissolves from first dark into the timeless space between days and still these two men of God are deep in conversation. Bishop Felix tells the Father of the Pope’s priority on sending out missionaries to far places, and here Father Columbanus, is perceived as a missionary himself, traveling with his followers from a distant island to Gaul. Father Columbanus answers this comparison, not with agreement, but by reminding that his purpose here was to be like Jesus venturing into a wilderness simply to listen for the voice of God, not to proselytize to the nations.
The Bishop argues, “But like Saint Patrick, when you came here you could see the need these people had, to know Christ.”
“Or maybe only those who already shared our longing came to our doors. Are we changing them, or feeding them?”
Father Felix answers, “Whatever way you say it, I told the Holy Papa that you were well-known, and beloved, here. Lots of Christians are your followers. Whether you came for solitude or crowds, the part that will impress him about your ministry is your popularity. And with the pope already critical of the bishops of Gaul for engaging in simony, the time is right to send your plea to Rome for support that your work may continue.”
In this dark hour of matins, with Brother Servant, next to me on the bench, he drops his head back in sleep, gapping mouth, snoring loudly, and the interruption reminds the Fathers it is late. I extinguish the last candle, and stir a fresh log into the coals of the worn fire then retire to the other room with Ana and baby Layla — until very soon the rooster wakens us.
I hear the little children rustling around in the loft above our room. Apparently, the rooster only wakes our family, so Ana and I go quietly about our chores. The children will soon be down the ladder where the holy men, are sleeping. Draped on the ladder to the loft are those liturgical robes, not to be wrinkled or abused or trodden over by children. And there are Hannah and Haberd and Brandell like prisoners atop the ladder waiting for the rungs to be cleared for their descent. But never mind that wait. One-by-one the three children leap into my arms, trusting me to catch them, and no one yet has stepped on a robe or awakened a holy man.
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 