Historical Setting: Monkwearmouth, 794 C.E.
Is this a magical time of year because of the particular songs and stories? I don’t think the season that Christians call the Christ Mass is sacred simply by edict or calendar. Now is when the sun begins a new light overtaking old darkness. There is no papal edict to set its day. It is an edict of Creation itself. Lightness gradually returns gnawing away the edges of night at each rising. It would stay a Pagan thing, but Christians, also, keep the notion of the light overcoming the darkness. Epiphany marks this time of all things new.
Last night, at sunset I crossed back to the church at Monkwearmouth for the long night’s vigil of New Year. I was wondering what became of the waif I brought here on Christmas.
Now, after this Morning Watch, I knock on the study door of the Reverend Mother.
“So, Joseph has returned?”
“I am Eleazor, not Joseph. And I don’t believe the young woman I left at your door on Christmas would fit Luke’s ideal of motherhood. We’ve both seen her enraged.”
“It’s been contentious. Her demons put us all to the test.”
“The scratches on my face are quicker to heal than the scars on my conscience, were I intended to excuse myself from caring.”
“So, she wasn’t just a stranger to you, washed up on the shore?”
“She was a stranger then. All I know of her is what you told me. And also, that she was helpless and floundering in grief.”
“This isn’t grief. This is possession of her soul by demons. We are equipped to handle grief here, but not demons.”
“You mean grief is easier to manage, because it is a quieter infirmity?”
“Grief heals with quiet prayers of sympathy. Grief has no comparison with this.”
“Of course. I was just thinking, in her case, grief would simply drown its victim directly, but with demons, pigs are needed to carry it away for the drowning.” [Luke 8:32-33]
She says, “We can pray for miracles, but while we wait, we have to do our best to deal with it any way we can.”
“So, you have her here in chains?”
“She is safe.”
“May I visit her?”
“Why? You said you don’t even know her.”
“I know grief very well, and I want to offer a prayer of sympathy.”
“It isn’t at all simple just to see her where she is now.”
I follow after the Reverend Mother to the doorway into the belltower.
(Continues Tuesday, January 6, 2026)
Lazarus Ink 