simon p. murphy
04-20-2009, 09:53 PM
I heard a rumour of a holy man named Vodalus living among the Dominican monks of an abbey some way out of town. It was said that he was a true Saint, a perfect embodiment of the Holy Spirit. Having some interest in these things, I made arrangements to visit him. I had for many years been strongly interested by spiritual traditions and the holy men and women of various cultures said to have reached the pinnacle of virtue. I had once travelled broadly, meeting some of the most astonishing personalities in the process. I marvelled at the Taoist sages and Zen masters, their attitudes perfectly childlike and yet so bountiful with wisdom.
The rumour concerning Vodalus piqued my interest especially because I had never really met with any 'holy men' of the Abrahamic traditions. Priests, nuns and monks and such had always seemed so lifeless and boring to me. But I had read about the child-like spontaneity of some of the old saints, and they seemed to be inhabited by the same kind of vitality as those wise men from the East.
And so I came to the abbey. I was welcomed by a sincere looking old monk with a rough grey beard and a simple robe. He smiled at me with clear grey eyes and led me through stone corridors to the courtyard garden, where I saw a middle aged man wearing a purple robe running about chasing insects with a stick. I looked uncertainly at my guide who gave me an enthusiastic smile and a nod.
I stepped onto the garden path, reluctantly sauntering towards Vodalus. My guide followed close behind me. Vodalus was pudgy and red-faced, a bit like one of the munchkins I remember from The Wizard of Oz. As I came nearer he seemed to make an effort to pretend I wasn't there. He hammered a wasp into the gravel path with his stick, poking at it until it was a gritty smear.
"Hello", I said uncertainly, scratching at my beard.
He shot a glance at me with bloodshot blue eyes, and paid me a few moments of solemn deliberation.
"#### off!", he shouted, and returned to hacking at various things. My guide tried to muffle a snort of laughter.
I was really quite shocked and embarrassed. I shrugged my shoulders and turned to leave, but then Vodalus said something else:
"Hang on there, are you a Saint?"
"No", I replied, really unsure what he could possibly be leading up to.
"Are you a Christian?" he hissed.
"No, actually I'm not really..."
Vodalus began to laugh like a hyena, howling madly and kicking at my knees with his sandaled feet. He began mocking me with something like an impromptu schoolyard song:
"You're not a Christian, I-I a-am, you're not a Saint, haha, I-I a-am, I choose all the good things, you choose the bad things, I-I'm pu-ure, you're a dirty cheater".
Utterly disappointed, I walked away. My guide gave me an apologetic look which I'm sure must not have been sincere. "He's a real cunt, isn't he?" he whispered to me. It wasn't until after I had left the abbey that I began to wonder whether he had meant Vodalus or God.
The rumour concerning Vodalus piqued my interest especially because I had never really met with any 'holy men' of the Abrahamic traditions. Priests, nuns and monks and such had always seemed so lifeless and boring to me. But I had read about the child-like spontaneity of some of the old saints, and they seemed to be inhabited by the same kind of vitality as those wise men from the East.
And so I came to the abbey. I was welcomed by a sincere looking old monk with a rough grey beard and a simple robe. He smiled at me with clear grey eyes and led me through stone corridors to the courtyard garden, where I saw a middle aged man wearing a purple robe running about chasing insects with a stick. I looked uncertainly at my guide who gave me an enthusiastic smile and a nod.
I stepped onto the garden path, reluctantly sauntering towards Vodalus. My guide followed close behind me. Vodalus was pudgy and red-faced, a bit like one of the munchkins I remember from The Wizard of Oz. As I came nearer he seemed to make an effort to pretend I wasn't there. He hammered a wasp into the gravel path with his stick, poking at it until it was a gritty smear.
"Hello", I said uncertainly, scratching at my beard.
He shot a glance at me with bloodshot blue eyes, and paid me a few moments of solemn deliberation.
"#### off!", he shouted, and returned to hacking at various things. My guide tried to muffle a snort of laughter.
I was really quite shocked and embarrassed. I shrugged my shoulders and turned to leave, but then Vodalus said something else:
"Hang on there, are you a Saint?"
"No", I replied, really unsure what he could possibly be leading up to.
"Are you a Christian?" he hissed.
"No, actually I'm not really..."
Vodalus began to laugh like a hyena, howling madly and kicking at my knees with his sandaled feet. He began mocking me with something like an impromptu schoolyard song:
"You're not a Christian, I-I a-am, you're not a Saint, haha, I-I a-am, I choose all the good things, you choose the bad things, I-I'm pu-ure, you're a dirty cheater".
Utterly disappointed, I walked away. My guide gave me an apologetic look which I'm sure must not have been sincere. "He's a real cunt, isn't he?" he whispered to me. It wasn't until after I had left the abbey that I began to wonder whether he had meant Vodalus or God.