A Foray Into Religion

"Well at least, Isolde, you must admit your sister makes a good point.""

My daughter and I were in the library, discussing my youngest daughter Victoria's latest historical paper, "A New Take On The Battle Of Plataea". Isolde was complaining about the style of language --staid, precise, and in her terms, boring.

"Isolde, it's written for an historical audience. And her thesis is sound. The Spartans and Athenians couldn't believe the way the Persians set out their line of battle, and they employed a very good counter-strategy; that is, never interrupt the enemy when he's making a mistake. Napoleon picked up on this a lot. The principle works as well in other areas, such as politics and hockey games."

At this point my butler Irving interrupted. ""Er, My Lady, you have a visitor."

Irritated, I said, Good God, not Cousin Prudence again. I just can't face the whining and --"

"No," he replied. "It's Father Tom. From the Church of the Weeping Sepulchre."

"You go, Mum," said Isolde. "A little bit of Vicky goes a long way -- she should stick to playing dead bodies. And I should practice. The Sibelius is tricky, and the concert is tomorrow."

So off Isolde went, and I made my way downstairs to talk to Father Tom, whom I rather liked. I remember, when the weather was particularly fine, greeting him and stating, "You've done an excellent job in arranging things today." To which he replied, "Oh, My Lady, not me. After all, I'm in sales, not management." Good one, that.

We met, and he readily agreed to share some sherry from a fine cask of Amontillado I had received from a grateful Italian Government (such as it is). After some pleasantries were exchanged, he came to the point.

"That convent you support --"

"Ah, yes. The Little Sisters of Poverty and Pain. They do good work. And they do it for those who believe what they do not, because of the immense comfort such an act provides.Then there is the sanctuary, the soup kitchen, the outreach program --"

"The Bishop wants to shut it down," Father Tom said bluntly.

"Does he now? And just why hasn't he come to tell me himself?"

"Well apparently there was that issue with the stained glass window in his manse."

"Hah! As I recall, I recommended three fine artisans that could have done the work. But no, he had to pick one of his inept Benedictine cronies, and the result was crap. I mean, really. It depicts Salome, being nasty. I think the artist had seen what the Vancouver Opera had done with the Strauss version last May, where the soprano, I believe it was Mlada Khudoley, took the head of John the Baptist, opened her legs, and --"

"All right, My Lady, all right! Point taken. But what the Bishop objects to, and here I concur, is that all the nuns are atheists. Atheists!"

"And," I replied, "are to be doubly commended. What they do, they do for a very human reason. In effect, they feel the authority of compassion, and respond to it."

"I have no problem with their reasoning. But they are betraying the God they purport to worship."

"Rubbish. All of the sisters well realize that any God who permits innocents to come to harm, and does nothing to prevent it, is not a God worthy of worship. They have no quarrel with the free will thing, and that if you choose evil, then that's a choice that will be paid for, mostly in psychological terms, but also through the criminal justice system. But for the truly innocent to suffer --"

"There is a larger picture --"

"Perhaps. But neither they, nor I, have received the gift of faith that would encompass such a larger picture, as you term it. Now you tell the Bishop that if he acts on this, a certain matter will immediately come to light involving certain preferred shares purchased for the diocese involving an armament company that is sending weaponry to the Congo."

"How on earth --"

"Just inform the man. I think you will find that the matter will go away. In a hurry."

Father Tom looked crestfallen.

"I might add, this has absolutely nothing to do with your parish. By all accounts, it is doing its job, and your parishioners benefit, something in no small way due to yourself. More sherry?"

"No," he replied, "I must go and report back. Something I'm not looking forward to. I might, however, drop into the convent first."

"Why would you do that?"

"For comfort, My Lady. For comfort."