Historical Setting: The Great Skellig in an unknown time
Sister Brigid affirms my concern that Timothy only perceives me as a creature in his care. If I were a bird, I would be released into the sky. But as a human being, my release poses a problem. Am I seeking his friendship and expecting belonging? I’m finding all Brother Timothy chooses to offer me is his relentless care and maybe some pity for my brokenness.
“This isn’t like the bird’s healing, where one day I just fly off.”
His sister says, “This is something to talk with him about.”
“How can I do that? It can’t just be explained in pointing to some simple metaphor or guiding him in the recipe for steaming the Swiss chard.”
She shows me a sign they use with their fingers that means “sibling.”
“You need to use this sign of grasping hands, then pointing from one to the other to say to him, I am your brother.”
“And I also need to thank him. How do I sign ‘thank you’?”
“I don’t know. We never say that to one another.”
I interrupt the introspective silence she sets between us in this moment.
“I’ve seen that the others he rescues know how to speak gratitude. The hound sits with him in the storms, the bird returns and always knows who he is. So maybe my gratitude to him isn’t a simple sign for a spoken word but a commitment.”
“Indeed, Lazarus, but I’d guess the real communication challenge you have isn’t to thank one who doesn’t hear, but it is how you will explain your presence at the monastery. Last they saw you, you were dead.”
“I’ll just tell them I’m Lazarus, risen again. They’ve read the gospel. They’ll know the story.”
She laughs.
“You probably don’t want to take that news to the abbot. In fact, I will suggest you follow me tomorrow when I deliver the goat’s milk up there, and we will go first to Brother Lugh. It was he who claimed he saw a dead man in the tidal wash, and he may be glad to know he wasn’t imagining that. The abbot assumed he had invented a lie. But maybe you should introduce yourself with your real name, then say, ‘like Lazarus.’ who returned from the dead.”
“So, I shouldn’t say I am Lazarus?”
“I think not. Brother Lugh actually does have fits of fantasy and he would be one to believe you.”
Apparently, she doesn’t believe me. What can I say?
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 