his voice that invited Isaac to examine the gray sorrow of the priest’s eyes. He realized with regret that he hadn’t looked closely at his friend for many years. They had fallen into the routines of their private lives, both of them struggling under the burdens of their respective pasts, drifting along on the subtle currents of their losses.
Like so many in the church community, he had taken the priest for granted, knowing that he would always be there, ready to respond to any crisis promptly and with compassion. But where did priests go for their own renewal? Isaac sounded the depths in Evan’s eyes. To his sad dismay, he saw that there was little fire there.
“What is bothering you, Evan?”
“I’m not quite sure,” he replied stiffly. He hadn’t decided how best to break the medical news to his friend. But he did feel a need to reveal his ennui, to pour the emptiness of his heart into the encouraging hands of his long-suffering comrade.
“There is a numbness that has overcome what I used to feel. Everything I do and say seems to echo with the hollow ring of doubt. I know that I am tired. But I think this may be more than retirement can cure. I am afraid to admit it,” he paused and examined the edges of the rug beneath his feet, “but I feel that my faith has died.”
Isaac took the priest by the arm and guided him over to a chair. He sat down across from him and tried to find a thread of thought upon which he could weave the meaning of the priest’s life. But before he could say anything, Evan had risen and was looking down at Isaac with a worrying blankness in his eyes.
“I have become a phony. People come to me, to me ,” he emphasized by tapping himself on the chest, “for guidance and direction. But I am the most lost of the lost. And I have been for many years. The flock is following a shepherd who is astray in the wilderness. They are my responsibility. All of those souls seeking for God, and their priest hasn’t been in touch with God for so long that God has moved away. I am so afraid. What has happened to me, Isaac?”
Isaac’s mind was spinning and turning upon itself. Of all that seemed certain and solid in the upheaval of his world since his loss of Lessa, this priest had been the rock. Everything suddenly shifted beneath him, and the ground of his life fell away into the gravity of a foreign place.
His mind raced back to London. The circle had come back around. Evan Connor had once pulled him away from the brink of hopelessness and put him back in touch with some semblance of life. Now he sat here drowning in his own despair. Few things were worse than seeing an idealistic man shackled by the harsh jailers of disillusionment. The question was, what could he do for the priest when he, himself, so often struggled with a paltry faith?
“Evan, listen to me carefully. You have had a dramatic impact on countless lives, including my own. I have known you long enough to bear witness to that fact. What you are going through is common to the human experience. What would your faith really mean if it were never tested? You have often told me that suffering and uncertainty are necessary experiences for the forging of unshakeable faith. Take them into your own hands now, Father. This can only make you stronger.”
Evan walked slowly to the window. The leaves had begun to betray the arrival of autumn. He considered the cycles of life. Perhaps he should have tried harder to recapture his friendship with God before old age had caught up to him. Now he could only look upon his coming death with a weary resignation. He was a priest who had come to doubt Heaven…to doubt the encompassing love that he had once implored Isaac to place his trust in.
“You are right, Isaac.” He spoke with his back to the room. “And I am tired. More than I have ever been. I will go back to the rectory to consider this some more. I’ll work my way through it.”
He turned and smiled at his friend as an offering of
Like so many in the church community, he had taken the priest for granted, knowing that he would always be there, ready to respond to any crisis promptly and with compassion. But where did priests go for their own renewal? Isaac sounded the depths in Evan’s eyes. To his sad dismay, he saw that there was little fire there.
“What is bothering you, Evan?”
“I’m not quite sure,” he replied stiffly. He hadn’t decided how best to break the medical news to his friend. But he did feel a need to reveal his ennui, to pour the emptiness of his heart into the encouraging hands of his long-suffering comrade.
“There is a numbness that has overcome what I used to feel. Everything I do and say seems to echo with the hollow ring of doubt. I know that I am tired. But I think this may be more than retirement can cure. I am afraid to admit it,” he paused and examined the edges of the rug beneath his feet, “but I feel that my faith has died.”
Isaac took the priest by the arm and guided him over to a chair. He sat down across from him and tried to find a thread of thought upon which he could weave the meaning of the priest’s life. But before he could say anything, Evan had risen and was looking down at Isaac with a worrying blankness in his eyes.
“I have become a phony. People come to me, to me ,” he emphasized by tapping himself on the chest, “for guidance and direction. But I am the most lost of the lost. And I have been for many years. The flock is following a shepherd who is astray in the wilderness. They are my responsibility. All of those souls seeking for God, and their priest hasn’t been in touch with God for so long that God has moved away. I am so afraid. What has happened to me, Isaac?”
Isaac’s mind was spinning and turning upon itself. Of all that seemed certain and solid in the upheaval of his world since his loss of Lessa, this priest had been the rock. Everything suddenly shifted beneath him, and the ground of his life fell away into the gravity of a foreign place.
His mind raced back to London. The circle had come back around. Evan Connor had once pulled him away from the brink of hopelessness and put him back in touch with some semblance of life. Now he sat here drowning in his own despair. Few things were worse than seeing an idealistic man shackled by the harsh jailers of disillusionment. The question was, what could he do for the priest when he, himself, so often struggled with a paltry faith?
“Evan, listen to me carefully. You have had a dramatic impact on countless lives, including my own. I have known you long enough to bear witness to that fact. What you are going through is common to the human experience. What would your faith really mean if it were never tested? You have often told me that suffering and uncertainty are necessary experiences for the forging of unshakeable faith. Take them into your own hands now, Father. This can only make you stronger.”
Evan walked slowly to the window. The leaves had begun to betray the arrival of autumn. He considered the cycles of life. Perhaps he should have tried harder to recapture his friendship with God before old age had caught up to him. Now he could only look upon his coming death with a weary resignation. He was a priest who had come to doubt Heaven…to doubt the encompassing love that he had once implored Isaac to place his trust in.
“You are right, Isaac.” He spoke with his back to the room. “And I am tired. More than I have ever been. I will go back to the rectory to consider this some more. I’ll work my way through it.”
He turned and smiled at his friend as an offering of
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