28. Chapter 28
Kingsley
Father Cruz had finally spoken a verdict. At least part of it.
I was placed under excommunication—meaning I wasn’t allowed to talk to my fellow brothers or eat with them.
Hence I was sitting at the common table by myself, eating dinner long after everyone else had left.
Frankly, I was grateful. I was too ashamed to look the others in the eye.
All of them knew what I’d done. Father Cruz had even pulled me from seminary even though I had only a month left. At least for now, he’d said.
I’d spent the past week once again fasting and in prayer. Repented, repented, repented. Begged God to give me a clear answer if being a priest or a monk was really my vocation.
He’d delivered His answer this morning, clearer than I’d ever heard from Him before. I burned to talk it over with someone—anyone—but I had to wait for Father Cruz to approach me.
“Brother Samuel.”
The hushed voice made me look up from my potatoes and chicken. Matt lingered in the arched doorway, an unreadable expression on his face.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” I said, the bleakness in my tone matching the stone walls surrounding us.
“I can’t—” He flared his nostrils. “I can’t watch you being by yourself any longer while we’re having the best time in the community. He doesn’t even allow you to attend Mass anymore. This is bullying.”
“I messed up, I pay for it. That’s got nothing to do with bullying.” I speared a potato wedge. “Now get out of here before someone sees you and you get excommunicated, too.”
He stepped into the room. “It has everything to do with bullying! In school, everyone treated me like that after I made one small mistake.”
Anger reared its ugly head, and it took everything in me to wrestle it into submission. “It wasn’t a small mistake, Matt,” I gritted out, gripping fork and knife so hard my knuckles turned white. “It affected the entire monastery. Our congregation is already shrinking because of me.”
“I saw a lot of new faces on Sunday. They came because of you.”
I closed my eyes. Took a calming breath. “Look, I know you’ve never experienced excommunication before, but it’s part of being a monk. You need to let it go.”
“Brother Samuel is right about that.”
I almost choked on the piece of chicken I’d just shoved in my mouth.
“Father Cruz.” Matt had whipped around to the abbot standing in the door, and now turned back to me, staring at me out of comically big eyes.
“Shouldn’t you be in your cell, Brother Matthew?” Hands folded behind his back, Father Cruz stepped into the dining room like a judge ready to announce our verdict.
Matt scratched his forehead. “Yup, I totally should. I just . . .” He gestured at me. Rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, no. I should definitely be in my cell. Doing . . . stuff. P-praying. That’s what I should be doing.” He nodded vigorously. “Yup.”
When he turned and made for the door, Father Cruz caught his cowl. It was only a light tug, but Matt acted like he’d been ripped back. He let out an exaggerated choking sound.
A grin ripped across my face, and I pressed a fist to my mouth to hide it. What a clown. Yet a smart move to defuse the dire situation.
“Please take care of Brother Samuel’s plate so I can talk to him.” Looking at me, Father Cruz jerked his head at the entrance.
“You know what?” Matt shook his head. “I should get punished, too. You know why? I kissed him. I kissed Brother Samuel.”
Clattering echoed off the stone walls, and it took me a moment to realize I’d dropped my fork onto the plate. Now total silence commanded the room.
Father Cruz stared at Matt, then his piercing gaze came to me.
“He didn’t kiss me,” I choked out.
“But I would have if you hadn’t stopped me. And I know it was wrong, okay? If I could go back and change it, I would, even though deep down I don’t want to.”
Shut up, Matt. Just shut up. Every word he dropped propelled him forward on the highway to perdition.
“I appreciate your honesty, Brother Matthew,” Father Cruz said. “Now please take care of Brother Samuel’s plate, then go to your cell.”
This time, Matt didn’t protest. He cleared my plate, then left the room.
A couple of minutes later I sat across from Father Cruz in the rectory. Darkness pressed against the windows, making me wish I would be allowed to sleep outside again. As for now I was confined to my cell. Good punishment, but still not enough.
“He’s clearly confused.” My voice sounded as raw as my soul felt. “And I’m pretty sure he acted in the heat of his emo—”
Father Cruz silenced me with a raised hand. “This is between Brother Matthew and me.”
I dipped my chin to my chest. Everything in me wanted to fight for Matt. It didn’t look good for him. But Father Cruz was right. This wasn’t my battle.
“How has the last week been?” he asked.
I pondered the question for a moment before answering. “I wish there was some kind of physical punishment, because isolation and repenting don’t do the job.”
“What kind?”
“Desert thorns and briars, if you will.”
“You got that from Judges.” Father Cruz sighed as if not knowing what to do with me. Couldn’t blame him. I’d given him a lot of grief. “Do you reckon that would make a change?”
Maybe. I didn’t know. There had to be a reason why physical punishment had been popular back in the day. Either way, I certainly deserved it.
I hung my head again. “Probably not. I just hate how far away God feels.”
Resting his elbows on the arm rests of his chair, Father Cruz steepled his fingers. “Repeat that last word.”
“Uh . . . feels.”
He nodded. “Our feelings can be deceiving. Your only job is to repent—as in confessing and doing a one-eighty-degree turn, walking away from sin and running towards God. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. ”
“I can’t do it on my own, Father Cruz.” I clenched my fists. “I did repent, but I just can’t forgive myself.”
“You don’t have to do it on your own. Keep asking the Lord to grant you the ability to move on. You can’t focus all your energy on serving Him if you keep wasting it on thinking about your past.”
More wise words I needed time to process.
“Have you prayed about God’s will for your future?” he asked.
This was the question I’d been dreading. I nodded nonetheless.
“Got an answer?”
I gave another nod.
Father Cruz leaned back in his chair. “Good, because I got one, too.”