Father L

Father L. looked at the crack between the door and the wall of the dressing stall. It was Wal-mart, no one else was in the dressing room. He could see into the stall no problem even from where he was standing a foot away.

So he bent over, and looked.

He did not need to bend over, but it helped him see better, so he stayed there, hunched over in his black robe and travelling monks hat.

He wanted to look to see what kind of body the bearded pilgrim had. If he was a faster, a doer of prostrations, a keeper of vigils, his body would show it.

Father L. knew it was none of his business what kind of life the bearded pilgrim had. But the bearded pilgrim acted more than slightly loony at Jordanville.

The bearded loon talked to himself, and not just talking, but giving sermons to the air. He even had the gall to try to instruct the seminarians! The man was in spiritual delusion, to be sure, if he wasn't flat out loony.

Father L. looked, and saw the muscled ribs and flat stomach of the bearded loon. The bearded loon did not have a defined chest from prostrations, but still he was taut.

Father L. was hoping he was wrong and that the bearded loon was a faster, but alas it was not so. Father L. could tell a person's spiritual state by their fasting, and this pilgrim was no more than the average layman.

Above, from the loudspeaker, a voice rang out:

"Um, management, we have a problem in clothing..."

Father L. stepped back and away from the stall door. The last thing he needed was for the town of Mohawk to think that the monks were a bunch of perverts.

Father L. was not gay, and thought the sodomites would get the recompense of their sodomite labors. But he was not looking at the bearded loon as he tried on clothes for the sake of liking another man's buttocks and crotch. He simply wanted to see if the bearded loon, sermonizer to the air and slammer of knees on the church floor while trying to pretend he could not do prostrations was really an ascetic or fool for Christ.

But the pilgrim did not fast. What a pity, another fake.

Father L. did not bring the pilgrim to Wal-mart only to check out the loon's body. He was also interested in the appearance of this man who walked up to the monastery with a big back pack on, straight from his tramping life. His pants were dirty, and even though washed they had stains. His shirts were second rate and faded. No, if loon was going to be in church every day at the monastery, he needed to look decent.

A pair of pants for services, two nice dress shirts. Enough for the loon to change after his daily labors and not scare away the visitors to the monastery.

The stall door creaked open, then hit the frame. Out came the loon, big beard and barely kempt hair, wearing the black Dickies pants and dark green dress shirt they picked out together.

Presentable at last!

The pilgrim changed, and Father L. paid for the clothes. The cashier looked at him with a scowl, and did not say a word to him. Did she know he was peeking through in the stall, or was it his black robe? It was impossible to be an Orthodox monk and not turn a few heads while out in the world. It did not matter, Father L. thought to himself. And silently he said a prayer for her.

Father L. stopped off at a liquor store on their way back from town to the monastery. It was a standard Hindu owned market, those unfortunate pagans who were stuck with their thousand gods. Father L. would not have gone into the place had it not been for the bearded loon. Now that Father L. did something nice for him, it was important to make the loon judge him.

So, Father L. bought a twenty-two ounce beer, a big, tall can of Steel Reserve, the most un-monk like thing he could think to do.

They drove in Father L.'s big boat of a car, an old Cadillac that should have its own two lanes rather than one. Father L. was at the wheel.

There was another test Father L. had to give. He had to see if the loon was a Mason.

Father L. had been a Mason at the same time in life he had been a Mormon. But it was the Masonry Father L. could not stand. He hated it. The paganism involved, the worship of devils, the twisting of scripture, the knocks and riddles: Father L. hated even thinking about it.

So Father L. began to tell his story, of bibles in ceremonies sat in the middle of the room, of secret handshakes and twisting of scripture. He tried to do a handshake with the loon but he was not biting. Maybe, just maybe the loon was hiding his Masonry. Masons are never at home in the company of Orthodox Christians, and it could be that the loon wanted to keep it secret.

That was fine with Father L. He hated even thinking about Masonry.

He had to finish his beer, or more precisely, Father L. had to find a place to dump the beer at. He had accidently taken a sip while pretending to gulp the thing and wanted to vomit at the foul taste of the liquor. He was a monk, and drinking beer was just plain wrong.

So he drove to a private place, to the cross up the hill which allowed a person to look out and down on the monastery. It would be a decent place to dump the beer out after a nice talk.

Father L. knew the loon was the spiritual child of Father H., a priest-monk who had been defrocked a number of years ago. Father L. remembered Father H. very well. He had stayed at Father H.'s monastery a couple of decades ago, but left due to the extreme lack of asceticism. No one stressed fasting, but instead tried to tell him to become human first. But the Holy Father's were clear, no one became human without fasting.

Those monks at Father H.'s monastery could not stand up to true monasticism, and when Father L. realized he could run circles around them in asceticism, he left and came to Jordanville. At least they gave him a blessing to eat how he wanted.

Father L. began to tell the bearded loon about Father H., what he was like and what all of Father H.'s problems where.

Father L. was only greeted with sighs from the loon. He did not seem interested.

At one point, the loon said, "Let's drop the subject about my spiritual father. Please don't talk about it anymore."

Father L. had to drive straight to the heart of the issue, to help the loon out. So he kept on about Father H.

Seeing an opportunity, Father L. said they had to go and dumped out the beer. He squeezed the sides of the can so that the beer would come out faster and give the impression of being almost empty. He started the big, wide Cadillac and turned around.

He forgot to mention something about Father H. With zeal Father L. informed the loon that Father H. was in spiritual delusion for, while at Jordanville, Father H. always pretended to be a monk before Father H. was a monk.

"Stop the car. I'm getting out," the loon said.

The walk back to the monastery was long, and the loon was using a cane from an ankle injury. Father L. could not let him out.

"I'm taking you back to the monastery," Father L. said. He continued to accelerate.

The tip of the cane. Father L. felt it close to his face.

"Stop the car, or I'll shove this cane down your throat," the loon said.

Father L. slowed the car and stopped. He was waiting for the violence to start. If he had to suffer for his sins he would do so praying for the loon. Father L. did the Jesus Prayer silently.

But nothing happened in that split second that normally determines if there is a fight or not. The loon simply started to get out of the car.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Father L. said. He put the car back into gear, not letting the loon close the door all the way, and sped off.

Father L. did not know how long it would take the loon to walk back, but two hours had passed already. Finally, the footsteps punctuated by cane thuds came up the steps. He had made it safely back at last.

The loon's bedroom cell door had opened and closed, and the sound of the latch being put into place came down the hall.

Father L. took the clothes in the white Wal-mart bag and set them carefully next to the loon's bedroom cell door.

He could not let the young man look indecent, after all. Loving your enemies, and loving the ungrateful loons of the world, was a part of the Gospel Father L. would keep no matter what.