Post #18.10, Tuesday, March 23, 2021

Historical setting: Sixth Century Bordeaux

         It is one of the brothers who answers the door. I ask that they come out with me to the construction site. August slips by into the house unnoticed as we are leaving.

         “We met earlier” I remind them, “I’m a fellow traveler of Nic who owns the statue. We’re traveling with the two monks taking the art on to Ligugé.”

         “Yes, I know. You’re the one they call Laz.”

         “It’s Lazarus. I was looking over the site earlier and I wanted to ask you something. Surely it isn’t just the two of you — this is a massive project.”

         Shollo laughs, “It’s not just us. There is a large crew for this. We just live right here, so we are first to start work and the last to leave. Our father likes to think of himself as the building master ready to give instruction; but he is along in his years, so he just wraps himself in wools and finds a perch on the stones-in-waiting to watch over the work.”

         “I did see you have this large treadwheel. I supposed you had a larger crew or else a great need of a crew.  And apparently we will be staying here a while waiting for a healing. I’ve done this kind of work in years past so I was hoping I could be of use, if not for my skills, at least to walk the treadwheel.”

         Kairn asks, “What project have you worked?”

         “At the time I was in the area of Jerusalem, on the Eastern end of the Great Sea. Do you know that area?”

         Kairn answers, “No. Is it near Aux?”

         Shollo interrupts, “Whatever, I’m sure our wheel master can put you to good use.”

         Kairn adds, “We always need brawn.”

         “And whenever you go to raise up a Christian edifice like this the project seems to incite the hoards of frail-bodied holymen.” Shollo continues in a near rant. “What I’m talking about is those churchmen…

         Kairn explains, “What Shollo means is it is a rare day someone steps up who can actually do the work especially with a humble willingness to walk the treadwheel.”

         “I’m willing. So where do I find this wheel master?”

         “Come back in the fullness of the day tomorrow. If you show up at first light, you won’t find him here. The new master is not as driven as our father was once.”         

(Continues tomorrow)

Post #18.9, Thursday, March 18, 2021

Historical setting: Sixth Century Bordeaux

         “Please trust me, August. As the stranger that I am I see only the edges of your family and can only guess at the hidden longings and losses. But this reunion isn’t about the hurts. Since you’ve been gone your good gift to make beautiful things with your hands has only become greater with the grace of God. And your closeness with God has granted you another gift as well. Even though your brothers fear your return, it is now in your power to make beautiful things with the love and understanding as God has untangled for you. The great commandment is to love all people even your own family who are sometimes the hardest to love. When you meet your family again, they will see you are a new person. Don’t be afraid.”

         He argues, “Or maybe it is like you told us, when the brothers made peace with their brother Joseph who ruled Egypt, so many of their generations became slaves in Egypt until Moses set them free many years later.”

         “Indeed they were chipping and stacking stones until Moses rescued them to be farmers again.  But August, you are making excuses for missing the hard peace you need to create.”

          “You know, Lazarus, you are only a layman and here you are lecturing me who has holy orders.”

         He’s right. I offer no defense. In this pause August offers another thought. Now he slumps in penitence, “I need to untangle all this in prayer before we go to my parent’s door, don’t I?”

         “Yes, of course. I’ll go tell Nic and Brother Joel not to wait supper on us.”

         I return, and August is still kneeling in prayer, nearly hidden behind the ox cart. His icy sharp edge of self-defense is slightly melted to slush.

         Now amidst all his gratitude he even thanks me, for allotting him time for prayer.

         “I needed that moment of solitude.”

         “I don’t need to hear about your private God-chat, Brother August.  It is only you who is judging you.”

         “And” he adds, “Shollo and Kairn, of course.”

         “As you have also been measuring them. Pull your hood up.  I’ll knock on the door and ask for your brothers. Wait until we are away before you pull your hood back and greet your parents.”

         So I knock.

 (Continues Tuesday, March 23)

Post #18.8, Wednesday, March 17, 2021

Historical setting: Sixth Century Bordeaux

         “Laz, I have to tell you, knowing my brothers as I do, they aren’t that analytical, especially when it comes to their own jealousy and their own flaws.”

         “Who is?”

         August continues,  “It sounds to me like you are ready to pass judgment on me but not on the brutes. They are only looking to damage my family’s opinion of me. They have no wish at all for brotherly bonds.”

         “But Brother August maybe this burden you feel to impress your father with your amazing gifts is something like the fear they also imagine is you against them. They see your beautiful work and they feel you threaten their value in your father’s sight. Your ridicule of this workmanship won’t fix this project anymore than their objections to your perfectionism can make you sloppier in your art. And attributing more wrongs to your brothers won’t make your mother and father love you any more than they already do.

         “Never, at least since the story of Jacob who had sons with two different wives, have I heard of a parent whose love for his children could be diminished by the dazzling giftedness of another son. Maybe it’s a common fear among siblings, that a parent’s love is unjustly offered to some superior son but finding perfect equality in a parent’s love it is like trying to find symmetry in God’s grace. Grace falls unevenly on humankind, more by chance or need than by human virtue. A parent’s love, like God’s free gifts, flows unevenly among those who are beloved. Yet love is vastly abundant, all encompassing, never ending, so an uneven distribution shouldn’t matter. Love doesn’t require perfect symmetry. I don’t imagine you will make your father love your brothers less just because you are so good at carving stone, even now that you have turned your life over to God and God herself is inspiring your work.”

         I give August no time to answer with a defense. I just keep talking.

         “I have a thought. Let me go with you to your family now. When someone comes to the door keep your hood up so they see you only as a monk. Then I will ask Shollo and Kairn to come out with me to this worksite so that I may ask them about the work, and maybe talk about my own usefulness as a builder.”

         August is hesitant.

(Continues tomorrow)

Post #18.7, Tuesday, March 16, 2021

Historical setting: Sixth Century Bordeaux

         Darkness impedes our tour of the work on the basilica, and August is anxious to go on to see his family. I’m looking for a way to be the silver cup in Benjamin’s bag who helps the reunion become something joyful and not a tirade of remembrances of envy and guilt.

         “August” I stop him from going directly to the house. “There is something to consider here before you go to that door.”

         “What?”

         “I met your brothers Shollo and Kairn.”

         “You met them?”

         “They were looking at the sculpture, and they recognized who the artist is.”

         “Oh yes!  Did they admit to its wonder?”

         “August, you told us your art is your prayer. So was the prayer in your heart, ‘Dear God, let me teach my brothers I’m really good after all?’ or was it, ‘Dear God, Let my hammer and chisel take away the stone that hides the family love’?”

         “Lazarus, You’ve met my brothers, but you don’t know them.”

         Again, August rubs his hand along the new wood of the crane arm. “I believe my brothers are the exact people who are complicit in this construction atrocity. If it wasn’t them who set this thing here, they’ve found others with no standard of workmanship either, and they are all just basking here in the ease of shoddy work.”

         “I hear what you are saying, August. But I have to tell you I heard something else this evening when Nic and I were putting the animals in for the night and Shollo and Kairn were looking at the sculpture. Yes, it was as you say, they did take careful notice of the skill and perfection and they recognized your hand in the art. It could be maybe they were humiliated by its quality as you wish them to be. But I heard them recalling their brother August as a sour memory and a hurt to them. They defended themselves with a criticism that your work lacks symmetry. They may have a valid criticism.”

         “Of course it is not perfect symmetry! It’s inspired by God! The Greeks and the Pagans have symmetry! Creation is mysteriously random.  It is my gift to see that and to show that with the image of a mother and child having no symmetry!”

         “Their criticism is not really of the art. But, like your own argument, it is wrought in envy which is the fear of loosing yours and their father’s respect.”

         “You don’t know, Laz. You don’t know what it’s like.”

         (Continues tomorrow)

Post #18.6, Thursday, March 11, 2021

Historical setting: Sixth Century Bordeaux

         Brother Joel and Brother August are in the guesthouse let to Nic by the stable master.  And I know we will have to tell them Brother August’s family was asking about the artist who carves so perfectly in sandstone. Surely we can’t keep Brother August hidden from them, especially since he is anxious to see his parents again. Maybe I should go talk with August so that the revelation of finding one another will not become an unwelcome surprise.

         Now I understand the Joseph story and that mysterious reason for hiding the precious cup in the grain bag of Benjamin as though Benjamin had stolen it.  In that way the jealous brothers would come with humility bringing their father to the grain officer of Egypt still not realizing that royal assistant is Joseph who is preparing to surprise them with his reveal. In the bible story it makes such a happy reunion Joseph is said to have wept. But I fear we aren’t going to see any tears of joy in this reunion. [Genesis 44]

         With the darkness, all the workers have left the site for the day and I know August must be anxious to go to his family. Of course I’m not so sure if he longs to see his brothers again. I know they don’t yearn for his return.

         Nic is preparing our evening meal in the little guesthouse that has a fireplace with cooking pots and grates and all the luxuries of an indoor place in the wintertime. I ask August to come with me to the construction site so we can consider the work that is being done.

         I explain my interest, “I was apprenticed in construction as a youth before I took up the work of scribe and Christian messenger. This subtle, limy whiff of fresh mortar nudges my recollections and I was thinking while we are here waiting for the healing of Brother Joel, I could make good use of myself walking a tread-wheel or chipping stone.”

         “Yes, if my brothers have anything to say about hiring they will welcome more brawn.” August runs his hand along the wood supports for the crane’s tread-wheel. “Obviously they have no use for skill and precision. Even the carpentry is rough.”

         My observation, “They probably thought it was temporary while the build is going on. You have to admit they have stacked a substantial stone wall here so far.”

         “Is that the standard? ‘substantial’?” August asks, still critical of the workmanship.

(Continues Tuesday, March 16)

Post #18.5, Wednesday, March 10, 2021

Historical setting: Sixth Century Bordeaux

         We’ve overheard two brothers of August taking notice of the statue in the cart just outside this stable. Nic went down to confront these art critics.  I’m not sure if Nic means to defend the art or the artist, but now his demeanor is more of camaraderie, as is Nic’s nature.

         Shollo tries to justify his and Kairn’s dislike for August. “We who had to put up with all his bossing believe we work better in his absence. He was always measuring our work by his own superhuman standard of perfection.”

         Kairn adds, “And whatever way we tried to do something he always had a better plan, but since he was a little fellow who didn’t do the heavy lifting himself the real work of it was always on us.”

         Shollo gives up any thought he might have had of defending August, “He just told us how to do it and our father thought August could do no wrong and since we were always wrong we were required to listen to him.

         Kairn adds, “And what irked me was he was always setting aside sandstone blocks to add little carvings and do-dads to our great constructions, and now, seeing this thing we are feeling the creep of his work has chased us down again.”

         Nic affirms, “And you worry that your father has found him and now your brother is back to take over your work and make your lives miserable?”

         “You’ve got it!  So you must have a smart-ass older brother also.”

         Again, Nic answers with his relentless understanding. “I wasn’t born with any brothers, but believe me, I’ve had a long lifetime of smart-ass officers and bosses. I know just how you feel. Nothing is ever perfect until the guy in charge can take credit for it.”

         As I make my way down to meet the brothers, Shollo has an arm around Nic, in a gesture of greeting old friend.

         “Laz, these men were working on this new basilica, and they took notice of the sculpture I’ve purchased. They think the artist is their brother.”

         “And so it is a strange coincidence it is that we would stop here in Bordeaux for shelter while Brother Joel is mending.”

(Continues tomorrow)

Post #18.4, Tuesday, March 9, 2021

Historical setting: Sixth Century Bordeaux

         Nic and I are spreading our fleeces in the stable loft near the construction of a new basilica in Bordeaux and from here we can overhear the conversation between two of the workers who are looking over the stone sculpture still in the cart just outside.

         “Do you know, Kairn, I just had a terrible thought. Look at that thing closely for the chisel marks. Go ahead, examine it, even search the hidden places.”

         “It lacks symmetry. But there are no chisel marks. It’s perfect workmanship.”

         “Exactly. And don’t we already know the hand of this artisan?”

         “Oh, your not thinking its…”

         “… he’s back to taunt us, the small but mighty, August! Do you suppose Papa found him and ordered this work?”

         “Did you see who brought it here?”

         “It was two monks leading the ox with the two horsemen riding guard as though there were great value in a piece of stone.”

         At this point, Nic has strapped on his sword and gone down the ladder from the loft to encounter these art critics.

         “Hello fellows. I was in right here at the stable and I heard you talking about this art. I’m the patron who purchased it.”

         “We just wanted to know who the artist was.”

          “Yes, I heard you talking about it. To answer your concern, it was purchased from a marketplace for sacred Pagan and Christian works of art. And you will surely be pleased to know it isn’t intended for this basilica. It is meant to be a gift to inspire the scribes and artists working in the inks who have vowed poverty as seen in the face of this woman. It’s being transported to a monastery near Poitiers where the literate monks will appreciate this most as they are busy copying scriptures.”

         The one of these two called Kairn asks, “So who made this?”

         “Why do you ask?”

         “We had a brother who is gone now. Our parents grieve for him.”

         The other brother adds, “We aren’t grieving though.”

         Kairn interrupts, “I know it’s against God to speak ill of ones brother. So what Shollo means is…”

         Shollo adds his own words, “What I’m saying is we are much better off now that he is gone. And we hope he stays gone.”

          “What Shollo means is our father put that older brother in charge and he was a hard taskmaster.”

         “What Kairn means is that August, your artist here, was a very smart…shall I say, donkey. And we really don’t miss him.”

 (Continues tomorrow)

Post #18.3, Thursday, March 4, 2021

Historical setting: 564 C.E. Building site in Bordeaux

         Nic and I are looking for sleeping quarters in Bordeaux for the two monks and for ourselves, and we’ve stopped to ask at the thatched house near the construction of the basilica that August told us would be his family’s home. The woman of this house, who must surely be August’s mother, suggests a stable with a sleeping loft only a short distance away. She graciously offers that we may share the sleeping quarters of her sons if the stable owner doesn’t oblige.

         So now we find the stable is accommodating for our horses and ox, and Nic and I can sleep in the loft. And what’s more, the stable owner is happy to meet all of our needs because Nic has paid him well. He even has another little house of thatch where the two monks can stay, since Brother Joel cannot climb the ladder into the stable loft at this stage in his healing.

         We return to our wilderness camp with this place procured.  I told August of the helpful woman in the house adjacent to the construction, and he found delight in learning she was still wearing a tattered green tunic with a cincture and apron, but her hair has silvered. As much as he claims to be rid of family, I think August looks forward to seeing them again.

         We start on the short jaunt to Bordeaux at first morning light because ox-speed turns it into a day’s journey. We arrive late in the afternoon. Brothers August and Joel settle in at the little thatched guesthouse, while Nic and I tend to the animals.  The cart with the sculpture of stone is parked outside the stable in view of the construction project and it attracts the attention of two of the workers as they are wrapping up their day’s project. We are in the loft of the stables and can hear them talking about the artwork.

         “Lifelike, yes. But why would the artisan choose to set in stone the life of a poor woman with an infant?  A true artist could have made it anything, so why a poor woman?  An emperor or a god would at least have better symmetry.”

         “Worry not, my brother, it’s only sandstone so it won’t last.”

         “I wonder if the two monks we saw bring it here intend to add it to our work on the basilica?”

         “Do you know what this makes me think of?” One of the brothers asks the other.         

(Continues Tuesday, March 9)

Post #18.2, Wednesday, March 3, 2021

Historical setting: 564 C.E. The road into Bordeaux

         On this ride to Bordeaux I am telling Nic what I remember of my life before I was found robbed and beaten.

         “I was walking back to my family’s home from Tours when I was attacked.”

         “So how was your wealth worthy of a robber if you were living the poverty of a monk?”

         “I remember this all now.  I will tell you, Nic, why I had a treasure with me that day. I hope you find the humor in it.

         “There was this fellow, George who was supposed to teach me all the trimmings of a superstitious belief system which is searing a mark from a pagan root unto Christianity. He was writing a history of the Franks, a hagiography, and had his sights on becoming Bishop of Tours. He dreamed up his name to be, ‘Gregory of Tours.’

         “His assignment for my lesson was to claim an ancient saint as my patron. But I can tell you this Nic; a living breathing patron is much better company than a dead saint, even if the living guy is an old soldier.”

         “Again,” Nic mentions, “You know, Brother Joel would differ as to the value of a spiritual presence over the worth of a skin and bones man.”

         “Yes, Nic, but you notice Joel is back in camp. His spirit may wander, but it is his physical infirmity that is holding him back.”

         “So, tell me your patron saint provided you with a treasure they robbed from you on the road?”

          “As a matter of fact, he did. It was kind of a joke that I made a relic of my own to fulfill the instruction. So I was carrying a fray of my own whiskers in a walnut shell as a reliquary. That was the ‘true whiskers of Saint Lazarus’ a fourth century Christian martyr. He was no doubt, a heretic who still believed in a tangible human Jesus, but that seemed not to matter to young George.”

         Nic laughs. “Oh, so it is ‘Saint’ Lazarus now. But I’ll just probably keep on calling you Laz.”

         “I’m only telling you this because it explains the so-called ‘treasure’ that was robbed along with my clothing. It seems a pilgrim awaiting healing at the tomb of St. Martin saw my relic when I was pretending to calm the waters for our river crossing. The coincidence of the calming apparently gave credence to my ruse, and made it seem my walnut shell was a thing of value.”

         Bordeaux is just as August told us.

(Continues tomorrow)

 

Post #18.1, Tuesday, March 2, 2021

Historical setting: 564 C.E. The road into Bordeaux

          “That was two deaths ago.” I’m telling Nic what I was reminded of in my search for a doctor. I now have that memory of wife, Susanna and that foggy image of the family we sought in vain.

          “I can recall I buried Susanna before my own death from plague. After that rising I learned the two children who survived were taken to a pagan hag of healing and when they had recovered from plague my son was taken from her to be trained in the tending of vineyards and my daughter stayed and was apprenticed in the pagan art of healing. When the old woman died Eve inherited her book of remedies, and she herself, then filled the need for the healer in that place along the River Loire. When I returned and found them, Eve and Ezra were adults already living their own lives. Now they know about my oddity of life and life again since I reunited with them only a few years ago.

         “My son was the one assigned the task to bury the dead when a recent round of plague hit a nearby village, since he, himself bore the scars and the plague’s withered limb – signs that he would be safe from it.

         “After we reunited I thought I would be useful to my children in their daily work but then I realized I was really just a misfit to their families, and a tax burden so I decided to find my place in the scriptorium of Marmountier close enough to my family that I could return and help in the seasons when help is most needed.”

         Nic interrupts, “If Brother Joel heard you speaking like this, making things only about their earthly purposes — farming and taxes and the like — he would surely remind you that the spiritual oneness is more than a person’s measure of physical benefits.  I’m just saying what the wise elder would want said.”

         I know the ‘shoulds’ of faith, but I argue, “Regardless of holy virtue, I still keep looking for purpose in my tangible being. So I went to Tours to be useful in copying scriptures. And you know of the need and the dearth of writings. Even with no holy orders I was welcomed to work in the inks. I was tonsured as a monk, and I was being instructed in the growing Christian ways of saints and relic worship, a pagan ooze of superstition ever seeping into the Jesus way.”

(Continues tomorrow)

#Remembrances, #Scars of plague, #Finding purpose, #Value in life, #6th Century illiteracy,