#51.11, Weds., Dec. 27, 2023

Historical Setting, 610 C.E. The cottage in the Vosges

         Safe at home calls for the great exhale — the unwinding of the wandering and the dare — the hugs and soft kisses — the beverage — the toast — the prayers of thanks — the counting of each person safe. We are all here now, Gaillard and Greg stayed the night at the cottage are still here. Gabe and the Father are safe in Luxeuil. Our stories are spun then told and told again with more finesse at each telling how four of us and a helpful farmer released the prisoners, and brought the abbott safely home. No blood was shed and the violence in the form of spreading fearful rumors — the tales of the demons in the woods — were already un-truths just lying in wait to be believed.

         But the bird that passed over my head as I was going home brought news. This morning the abbott announced he is leaving. A bird’s wing couldn’t bring the tome to explain the details, so Greg and I decided to ride back to Luxeuil this morning and learn more of this. Gaillard loaned me his horse, as he would like to avoid any chance of meeting anyone visiting there from Metz. He will be waiting for Greg here at the cottage.

         It seems the Father fears the new king and his great grandmother and the bishops council are all plotting against him. Staying would endanger his whole community, so he will take those who are still surviving of the monks who originally came with him, and they will go back to the Celtic island. This leaves a deep sadness at Luxeuil. Gabe was not the only one of the younger monks whose offer to go along was turned down by the Father. He wants to know that Luxeuil continues to thrive. [footnote] Father Columbanus notably left his community in able hands, which was his pattern of good organization throughout his lifetime. 

         The great and famous Father shared with so many of us, both monks and followers, his tender and humble prayers for continuing. He prayed for faith, obedience to God, gratitude, and trust that the work of Luxeuil will continue. It was no great, verbose prayer, but many private and personal prayers with each of us.  He took very little with him, but he did take several cages with birds to release so that his travels could be known back here.

[footnote] The departure of Columbanus from Luxeuil is documented in many sources, as he moved on to establish other communities in Europe, but the primary sources for the “Life of St. Columban” used here is “Translations and Reprints from The Original Sources Of European History – “Life Of St. Columban,” by Monk Jonas, edited by Dana Carlton Munro, A.M.

(Continues tomorrow)

#51.10, Tues., Dec. 26, 2023

Historical Setting, 610 C.E. Luxeuil

         The Irish farmer, who loaned his horse to the Abbot for his escape from Besançon answers the soldiers who are now requiring an explanation for the sword they’ve found here in these guest quarters we share.

          The farmer explains, “My farm is some distance from here, so I brought that with me on this pilgrimage in case of robbers. I found the sword on my farm but there was no sign of a soldier who would’ve lost it so I assume he escaped with his life. But if you do know who lost it, please take it now, and return it rightfully to its owner.”

         The soldiers take the sword. Maybe they know how it was lost—that it was once delivered to the demons. They continue down the hallway checking each room. That band of armed men only just left Luxeuil as it is time for the prayers in darkness.

         No one has slept this night, at least no one sleeps now until after matins. We notice there is an extra monk in the choir this morning, gray-haired, familiar to us all, but apparently wasn’t recognized by the soldiers. I wonder what the soldiers thought they were searching for?  Were they expecting to see the great man of God, the abbot here, seated on a throne with a halo shining around his head? Even the presence of Jesus is often overlooked by those who only know the rumors of magic and have no thought of earthly goodness.

Apparently, they searched the study where Father Columbanus was quietly reading a book. They searched each of the shelves in that room, examining every volume, but the studious monk, seated in the middle of them went unnoticed. How will this oversight by the soldiers become known beyond this place is not clear. Was it a joke on the soldiers or a miracle, or a simple fact that ignoring a person makes them invisible? [footnote] Whichever, the father responded to the threat as though the soldiers were invisible, and in turn he was also amazingly unnoticed.

         This morning the farmer leaves for his home with two horses, and I ride home with the mule wagon, alone in the morning light. The creek path is stilled and polished in white with winter. Dancing eddies of snow crystals transfigure an old reliable earthen path into a fantasy. It is the blank slate for the new earth, in case we should dare to take notice. It is the first of the lengthening days.

[footnote] This little story of the guards searching for Father Columbanus who was there all the time is told in the hagiography by Jonas the “Life of St. Columban” used here is from “Translations and Reprints from The Original Sources Of European History –edited by Dana Carlton Munro, A.M.

(Continues tomorrow)

#51.9, Thurs., Dec. 21, 2023

Historical Setting, 610 C.E. Luxeuil

         The Father is back and safely in his library study. But Father Eustasius has already prepared the Christ Mass homily when Luxeuil will have many visitors for worship. So, the vespers tonight are led by Father Eustasius.

         Greg and Gaillard left before dark and will be stopping at our cottage to let Ana and the children know the rescue of the abbot was safe and successful. Greg said they will not be returning to Metz.  At first light in the morning, I will take the mule and the wagon home and the farmer who is my cell mate here in the guest quarters will take both of his horses and start back to Besançon. Everyone at Luxeuil, even us who are guests for the night are given instruction that if it would happen that the king’s soldiers come into this place in this sacred season, we should greet them as we would any other pilgrims, exemplifying silence and solemnity. We should assume they are also here for the worship of the Christ birth.

         That instruction was needed. Just as the torches are being lit in the hallways, the silence is intruded with the noise of armor and swords — fast moving soldiers — shouting orders through the halls — demanding that loyalty to the king requires the submission of the abbot. They run rough through the sacred stillness of this night opening every door, searching every cell. The Irish farmer and I are simply pretending they are silent and invisible, as they pilfer through our things here in the guest quarters. Now they find the sword the farmer carried that was taken by Greg from a guard at Besançon.

         We are pushed against the walls and soldiers have blades at our throats. The Irish farmer, who was already straining to meet the monastery rule of silence, is red faced and raging. But before he can shout I answer them in a whisper. “We are guests here, pilgrims, farmers from the outlands. We are peasants, surely not ones to carry swords. Maybe that weapon was one of your own misplaced then hidden here.”

         The soldiers examine the hilt of the sword carefully and discover it was indeed made by the same smith who provides swords for the King’s soldiers.

         Now the farmer from Besançon has gathered his clarity of mind and he also whispers to them his own peaceful explanation. They are requiring an answer from him.

(Continues, Tuesday, December 26)

#51.8, Weds., Dec. 20, 2023

Historical Setting, 610 C.E. Luxeuil

“I don’t know if it was intended to be punishment. My teacher assigned me a new cell with no mate.”

After Gabe told me of his mystical experience, we ride the rest of the way to Luxeuil in a kind of warm and comfortable silence. Thank you, God. It’s a long way with a slow mule to Luxeuil, but long is fine. Arriving at the stable the four horses are here: the white horses of Greg and Gaillard and probably these other two horses in the visitor’s stalls are the one ridden by the Father and the other, the farmer’s horse.

         It’s only been one night since we were together at the farm near Besançon making this plan to return here, but our greetings are grateful. We share with the horsemen our frightful moment, when we were stopped by the soldiers near the pass. 

         They’d seen us stopped there by the guards, but that was the only path to the other side of the mountains that the local farmer knew, so they had to take that chance and ride through ahead of us at that particular place. 

         I said, “We told the guards that undoubtedly the riders who left those hurried tracks along the river must have been the robbers we feared, who wanted to take our mule.  And apparently guards didn’t want to tangle with highway robbers, so they just took their posts and didn’t try to follow your tracks.

Then I asked that question we’d all wondered about. “Was the Father an able horsemen?”

         “Quite capable, even after decades as an impoverished churchman, he seemed very much at home galloping across the fields for his great adventure.” answered Gaillard.

         And here it is, the season of the Christ Mass in the first swirls of winter winds when it takes only a single candle to brighten a room with warm light and set the earth in waiting for the sacred birth of the rescuer. 

         When the Father found himself safely home here, he went immediately to his library where is spending these many hours pouring through the gospels for the new illumination his adventure sheds onto the old stories of Mary and Joseph. It seems the more one knows the familiar stories of gospel, the more often there are new messages to be found buried deeply in the familiar simplicity — always little mysteries to be revealed.

(Continues tomorrow)

#51.7, Tues., Dec. 19, 2023

Historical Setting, 610 C.E. the old road from Besançon to Luxeuil

         Gabe is telling he was called before his teacher because another novice accused him of “heresy.”

         “I told my teacher that when I first went to Luxeuil there were so many different ways people speak of God it set me to questioning what I believed. So, I went into a field with ripening grain to be alone for prayer and I asked God to excuse me from prayers for just one day, so I could pretend there was no God, and thus learn something I needed to know. What I needed to know was “is God?” I remembered it is a sin to test God, so I confessed to God that, indeed, I was testing, but I just really had to know.

It felt like a deep hurt to be without God that day. In fact, the whole world seemed pretend and not real. It was like I wandered into a painting. All the while I was denying and ignoring a brightness walking beside me, so I told God to leave me alone so I could figure this out on my own. But the brightness was still there. I didn’t want to look at it and see what it was. I tried to pretend it wasn’t there. This wasn’t like Moses humbly not looking. I just wanted to do this on my own. I walked deep into a grain field where no one would see me so if there was the God-light following me it could be hidden. Again I said to the light I had to do this on my own. Then, in my secret, silent not-a-prayer I asked for a sign. In silent thought I made the deal with some kind of nothing that if God is, let the grain suddenly fall from the grain head I was gazing on. I expected something natural could actually happen that I could take as a sign: maybe a wind would loosen the grain, or it would just fall from ripeness. For me, that would be a sign that God was allowing it to happen, but it also would allow for nature, yet I would believe it to be a sign. But with no wind at all the seed heads in my sight turned from dull into beautiful colors, each seed a different hue and no wind. An array of brilliant seeds rose in the air, dancing in circles and swirls, high above me, then landing all around my feet.”

“Did your teacher punish you when you told this?”

(Continues tomorrow)

#51.6, Thurs., Dec. 14, 2023

Historical Setting, 610 C.E. the old road from Besançon to Luxeuil

         It’s true. I did have a silent prayer in my thoughts just now, it is gratitude. “So, Gabe, do you miss hearing all the prayers spoken aloud as they do at Luxeuil?”

         “No Papa. At Luxeuil I keep my prayers silent too. I miss talking with you and Momma and everyone at home where we can listen to God, invisible, and no one thinks we are pretending to be a saint or a bishop or a prophet.”

         “So you worry you will be mistaken for a saint if you pray aloud?”
 

      “Novices live two to a cell, and I told you, how I worried with my cell-mate over the meaning of the ‘fear of God’. You assured me God is not ferocious and when I want to know about God, I should just ask God.  God glints her beauty differently in different situations, making Godself known in a variety of ways and maybe comes to each person differently. So, I learned, too late, to keep peace with my cell-mate, that people meet God always only knowing a small facet which may be different from one person to the next. He called me disrespectful of God and reported me to our teacher. My teacher, Father Eustasius, called me before him and asked if I was spreading heresy. I touched the sign of the cross and said, ‘Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I never speak a heresy.’ He asked me if it was true that I heard God speaking, and then I was telling others what I thought God was saying. I said, I surely hadn’t meant to be speaking for God. I was just telling my cell-mate that I had a bright moment, an ‘ah-ha’ when God answered my prayer of doubt.”

         “What did your teacher say?”

         “He said not to talk to that fellow about this anymore. And then he asked me what language does God speak?”

         “What did you say?”

         “I said I don’t hear God speaking with words, in any way that I could even call language. Then he asked me how I know it is God who is speaking. And I wanted to turn the question back to him and ask how he knows God’s voice. But that seemed personal and disrespectful of his position. So, I told him the exact thing that I told my cell-mate, that thing that riled the fellow who said I spoke heresy.”

(Continues, Tuesday, December 19)

#51.5, Weds., Dec. 13, 2023

Historical Setting, 610 C.E. the old road from Besançon to Luxeuil

         The soldiers searching our wagon found the only things that would connect us with the escape of the Father — the extra monk’s robe Greg wore, and Ana’s dress, which was worn by Gaillard when he and Greg were investigating the area to make the plan.

         I offered the dress to the young soldier who seemed interested in it. His pleasure in the gift turned to embarrassment, then disgust when the other soldiers mocked it. He threw it down, and trampled it into the river mud before throwing it back into the wagon. Now we actually will be returning a “rag” to Ana so the little lie becomes truth.

         This delay has served its purpose, as we can see the horses crossing through the pass ahead of us are no longer in sight.

         “Is your search for the escaped prisoner going to take you through that pass up ahead?” I ask the officer in charge, “Because, we’ve heard there may be highwaymen lurking in that place and perhaps if you are with us, we will feel safer. As you can see, we have no weapons or treasure but we’ve heard robbers will even take a mule and wagon from monks.”

         “Don’t you suppose God will take care of his own?”

         Gabe adds, “But it’s a worry. We’ve heard stories.”

         “Sure. Our orders are to guard that pass, so I guess we are available to accompany you there.”

         Gabe holds the mule at a very slow pace which makes the soldiers anxious, and the slower we go, the more they seem to find this little good deed they are doing for us annoying.  Now, as we finally reach the pass, the muddy hoof prints of the four horses that just crossed the river here seem conspicuous. Gabe points them out to the soldiers who were also noticing these fresh, deep and hurried hoof prints in the mud. Gabe mentions, “Surely the robbers were just here waiting for us, and when they saw we had guards they must have fled in a flurry.  So, we are most grateful to you for our safe passage.”

         And I added a benediction of blessing.

         Then Gabe and I start northward on the road.

         Gabe interrupts my silence, “Papa you can say your prayers out loud, I know you are saying prayers.”

(Continues tomorrow)

#51.4, Tues., Dec. 12, 2023

Historical Setting, 610 C.E. on the road from Besançon to Luxeuil

Soldiers stop Gabe and I on the road to Luxeuil searching for the Father. We appear suspicious as monks from Luxeuil and driving a wagon. Gratefully, the Father escaped on horseback with guards, and is on a less traveled road north. But within sight ahead of us is the pass by the river between the hills. In the pass the roads converge to navigate through steep terrain.  The four horsemen will have to come onto this road ahead of us because all paths must use the same pass where the river cuts through. 

         We are in the wagon facing north, while the guards who stopped us are in front of us, facing south. And now in the distance we see the horses and men we are shielding. They can get through the pass unseen if we can keep the soldier’s attention here. 

         I asked the soldiers what they are looking for.

         “A prisoner escaped from the fortress of Besançon.” The officer is suspicious of us.  “In fact you could be hiding him under the tenting covering this wagon.” We are ordered to get down from the wagon seat and stand at sword point while they search through the wagon. We can look northward up this road and see the horses still moving through the river pass just now. It is important the soldiers don’t turn around and look to the north. 

         The two guarding us won’t see behind them, and the other three are pilfering through the contents of the wagon, our fleeces, a bag of oats we will share with the mule, Greg’s extra monk’s robe, and…

         “A-ha!” says one of the young soldiers, “It’s a women’s dress!’”

         “Is that what you are searching for?” Gabe asks the guard.

         “It’s a curious thing to have with you, wouldn’t you say?” asks the soldier. Now another, who is, as Gaillard had described to us earlier, a ‘tender youth’ [#49.13] recognizes the dress.

         “I’ve seen this azure gown before. So what have you done with the lovely who wore it?

         “We stopped at a farm near Besançon for a night. The warped wheel had been rubbing the wagon side at the wheel pin,” Gabe tells them, “So the farmer gave that to us as a rag along with some lard for grease. We used all of the lard on the wheel then we didn’t need the rag, so if you want the blue cloth maybe it could still be good enough to wear as a dress.”

(Continues tomorrow)

#51.3, Thurs., Dec. 7, 2023

Historical Setting, 610 C.E. a farm house near Besançon

Greg and I are the last of our group to arrive back at the safe farm house. There is a sense of victory among us, having freed the prisoners with no bloodshed and also having captured an extra sword, then contaminating a lovely, dark woods by affirming rumors of demons. Well, maybe the demon myth was just a convenient opportunity. Whatever, knowing of the rumor gives us another veil of stealth as we will soon return Father Columbanus to his community.

         The father seems no worse for wear, in fact, he seems invigorated by the success of the project. He thanks God for the miracle of Paul and Silas.

         We are sure that the Besançon soldiers will make a plan very soon to guard the road to Luxeuil. And we’ve already forfeited speed and surprise. If we follow the one old Roman road it will take us right passed the fortress and on in the most predictable way using the slow and steady mule wagon.

         “So, Gaillard,” I ask, “tell us the plan to get the Father, two soldiers with swords, and a monk and a mule and me all passed an army of soldiers.”

         “Make that, three soldiers with swords,” offers the farmer, taking the extra sword in hand. “And we can move faster on horseback along an alternate pathway I know of.”

         Gaillard explains, “The Father would probably prefer a wagon ride.”

         But Father Columbanus reminds us not to let his silvered tonsure and liturgical status keep him from the horses.

         “You ride, your holiness?”

         “Of course, did you suppose an abbot has no human legs under his vestment? I would love a good excuse to take a gallop through the hills once again.”

         The farmer readies his two horses as Gaillard and Greg prepare their own mounts.  So, the plan is that the Father will ride a horse, guarded by three swordsmen, and they will take an alternative path to the road to avoid the likelihood of meeting soldiers guarding the main road.  Greg and I will take our time on the well-known Roman road with the mule and the wagon and at best, we can serve the escape as a decoy. A wagon with monks going north toward Luxeuil might be just how the guards are expecting to find the escaped prisoner.

         And so it is that our mule wagon hasn’t come far passed the fortress when we are stopped by the soldiers from Besançon.

(Continues, Tuesday, December 12)


#51.2, Weds., Dec. 6, 2023

Historical Setting, 610 C.E. Besançon Fortress

         Now, as the light-shed off the guard’s torch shadows the walls around us, we are hiding with silence and stillness as our only stealth. A small contingency of soldiers following that single torch pass by us.  Apparently, they aren’t even aware we are here, so now we are safely behind them. As we continue toward the end of the tunnel, we can hear their plan to leave one guard at the rock pile while the others search the open field for the Father. They discuss a probability that he has fled to the alehouse. At least we are hearing them considering that as the best place to search, because the other possibility is the wood that borders the pasture and they share rumors of dread that the dark forests are where demons dwell.

         Apparently, the demons are on our side now, as we learn that if we can get by only the one guard left at the rocks of the tunnel opening, the woods will be a safe place for us.

         We wait here by the steps to go up to the opening of the tunnel, allowing time for the soldiers to cross the pasture to the alehouse and for this one guard left here to find himself some comfortable distraction.  Greg goes out first with his sword drawn. I follow, and here he has come up behind the soldier and as I emerge, I see he has his sword pointed into the back of this guard and is demanding the guard hand me his sword. I hesitate.

         Greg instructs, “Pretend it is a mere hunting knife, Papa, and take it with you into the woods where that horde of demons is waiting for us.”

         The lone soldier is terrified, and Greg orders him to go on to the alehouse as fast as he can run and to tell no one he has seen any demons out here.

         Without a weighty sword a soldier can run away fast.

         “See Papa, no blood was shed.”

         Should I lecture my son just now that a threatening sword and tales of demons are also forms of violence?

         Dear God, I probably must leave this lesson in pacifism for another time. Surely you know that a parent’s way of peace is a numb example for a soldier who has just captured a second sword. You must be disappointed. Forgive me. Amen.

(Continues tomorrow)