Chapter Sixteen
Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor giving preference to one another.
Romans 12:10
On Wednesday, Seraphim came to visit Silas. Over a pot of tea, Silas asked,
"Would you do something to help me, Your Grace?"
Seraphim looked surprised but pleased, "If I can, Silas," he replied.
"I want to investigate an Abbey in Switzerland who may take me in. I don't want to reveal my identity until I know the Abbot's position on Opus Dei. Would you write on my behalf and not mention my name or that I'm currently in London?" he asked humbly.
Seraphim pondered this. It seemed a simple thing to do. He felt no fear in recommending Silas although he wasn't sure that Silas would be suited to monastic life in the long term. Perhaps a year or two as a Novice would give them the confidence to strike out on his own eventually before taking his final vows.
"I will do as you ask me," Seraphim said simply.
Silas was relieved. He knew of no other way of making enquires. An Abbot was sure to respect the recommendations of an Orthodox Bishop.
Before Seraphim left, Silas gave him a slip of paper with the Abbot's name and the Abbey's address. Seraphim put it in his pocket and waved cheerfully to Silas as we went off home to his cluttered and cosy flat.
When he got back to his flat, he rang Sennett at her work to discuss Silas' request.
"I'll see to any expenses like air fare and a contribution to the Abbey," Sennett said immediately, "I think he needs to have some idea of what his immediate future holds in order to finish healing."
"You won't miss him?" Seraphim probed gently.
"Of course I'll miss him but I want what's best for Silas too. It's about time somebody started thinking about what was best for him rather than being selfish," Sennett replied without hesitation.
"You're a good friend and a good woman, Sennett," Seraphim said.
"Tell St Peter that when I get to the Pearly Gates," Sennett joked.
That night, Seraphim sat up late at his laptop composing a letter to the Abbot.
Dear Abbot D,
I write to you on behalf of a friend of mine who has asked me, for now, to keep his identity and location a secret.
He was a numerary of Opus Dei and wishes to escape his past association with the organisation. There is good reason for this. Under obedience to a Superior, he did things that now make it difficult for him to leave his past behind.
This friend is still a young man of thirty-five and has spent the past 10 years within Opus Dei. His past before Opus Dei was cruel and difficult, and made him an easy target for the manipulations of clever and educated men. He was used like a tool in the hands of his masters, who had little regard for the effect on his soul.
He has made a full and honest confession to me and received absolution. The seal of the confessional binds my lips but why remember and reveal what God Himself has chosen to both forgive and forget?
This friend of mine now seeks the sanctuary of a monastery without the repressive and controlling spirit of Opus Dei. He wishes to study further (he speaks Latin fluently), and discover a new and better and freer way of relating to God than he has been taught.
I believe that my friend needs to learn to trust people and trust life. If you community can show him how to do this, I believe you will have done a great work. This man has good reason to trust nobody and nothing. All of his foundational relationships have been marked with violence and betrayal, even within the Church.
I do not believe this man is in any way dangerous to your community. He is a humble man, used to authority. He will obey anyone who treats him with friendliness – therein lies his terrible and pitiful vulnerability. This man needs to learn the difference between self-serving friendliness and true, selfless kindness. My friend has not eaten often of the Fruits of the Spirit in others. He needs to be fed on them now – love, kindness, forgiveness, patience, peace, gentleness, goodness. He cannot have too much of these things from others now.
In return, my friend will be sure to give you loyalty and obedience and discretion. These things are fundamental to his nature. They must not be abused in the future as they have in the past.
Although not well educated, my friend is intelligent and would benefit from further study as well as learning more practical skills that will enable him to make his way in the world if that is what he eventually chooses. I believe the disciplined and highly structured life of a Benedictine would suit him well as he is naturally ascetic. He would need to be watched to ensure he did not overdo his asceticism, if anything. Opus Dei had a disastrous effect on him in this regard, encouraging self-damaging practices which he undertook too rigorously to the detriment of his health and strength.
I commend this young man to you and ask you to consider taking him under your wing and within the protection of your community. I believe he will repay anything that is done for him with hard work and obedience. This young man has another friend who is willing to undertake any expenses that accepting him into your community would incur and is well able to do so.
Thank you for your time and consideration,
Seraphim S,
Bishop of the Russian Orthodox Church
The Abbot Philemon read the Bishop's letter with mixed feelings. On one hand, he immediately wanted to take the young man into the community simply to inconvenience Opus Dei, an organisation that he deeply mistrusted. He also immediately knew this reaction was probably merely spiteful rather than necessarily in the man's best interests. By now, the Abbot had learned to stand back from his own emotions and examine them for their appropriateness. He felt no sense of shame over his malice towards Opus Dei. He knew of many others who had left and never managed to regain a normal life again. However, he could not let his ill will, justified or not, decide what was best for this unusual man.
He would pray and meditate, and reply before the end of the week.
By the following Tuesday, Seraphim had a reply.
Your Grace,
I was deeply interested to read your account of this unusual young man but unfortunately, not surprised. It is no secret within my Denomination that I am no supporter of Opus Dei, a position which has cost me dearly in the past but which I cannot regret. I am not shocked to hear of his mistreatment at their hands as I have heard similar accounts many times before. I agree that this man needs to learn that there are other, and much healthier and well-balanced ways to be Christian and that his own Church, the Catholic Church, is a vast and diverse thing where he will be able to find a safe place.
I am concerned to read of his past before Opus Dei but again, hardly surprised. It is exactly the lost and lonely that Opus Dei would concentrate the worst of their excesses on. No numerary recruited from a large super numerary family would have been subjected to the abuse this young man has but there are many recruits who, like him, were taken out of insecure and isolated lives into Opus Dei. These are, without doubt, the ones who always suffer the most at the hands of those in power.
I would be happy to take this friend of yours into the community on a trial basis for several weeks. If he settles in well and wishes to stay, he may then begin as a Novice as he is already beyond Postulancy stage having the training from Opus Dei. If he completes his first year as a Novice, he may become a Profitent and take a 3 year vow. Once the Triennium is over, he can choose to be fully professed.
The only costs we will ask to be covered are any traveling expenses to the Abbey and a set of the robes of the Novice. After that, your friend will earn his own way by working within the Abbey as we all do.
I can promise you that your friend will be as safe as possible from the clutches of Opus Dei in our community and no further harm shall come to him at their hands that is within our power to prevent.
I would be very interested to meet you, Your Grace. I have enormous respect for the Russian Orthodox. It is a beautiful expression of Christianity and your reverential awe of God is to be admired in this modern world that tries to make God in our own image rather than a sacred mystery that He is.
If you let me know when your friend is coming, I will prepare a place for him.
Regards,
Abbot Philemon.
"What made you think of trying this Abbey?" Seraphim asked Sennett curiously, having received the reply.
"Silas seemed to be interested in monastic rather than apostolic orders. Of course, only the Benedictines and their off-shoots like the Cisterians are truly monastic. That narrowed it down considerably. Then there was the consideration of extradition. There is no extradition from Switzerland. He will be safe there," Sennett said mildly, deliberately not mentioning the angel.
"It is extraordinary good luck that the Abbot is so deeply opposed to Opus Dei," Seraphim said, not convinced he had the full story.
"It is, isn't it?" Sennett said, her dark eyes wide and innocent.
In the meantime, Silas was getting stronger every day. The doctor had decreased his pain medication, so he was no longer sleeping all day. He whiled away the hours in Sennett's flat reading her books and finding out everything he could about the Benedictines over the internet.
He felt ambivalent about living at Engelberg Abbey even if the Bishop did manage to convince the Abbot to take him. He put it down to not being quite sure that the whole thing wasn't a trap. Then again, why wouldn't Sennett just call the Police and have him arrested or contact Opus Dei and tell them where he was if that was the case? Why the elaborate plot to get him to Switzerland, a place with no extradition? No, his own fears didn't make sense. He knew it but he still felt ambivalent about Engelberg.
He found it increasingly lonely in the flat while Sennett was out at work during the day. Often, the Bishop would drop round in the late afternoon and occasionally stay for dinner. On the Sunday before the Abbot's reply came, the Bishop brought around communion for Silas again and stayed to lunch.
It struck Silas that Sennett knew a lot of people. He was not overly surprised that she knew people like the Bishop because of her area of expertise. Her range of friends due to her academic pursuits was diverse but somewhat expected. She seemed to have friends from all walks of life however, including a fairly even split between men and woman, young and old, educated and uneducated, rich and poor. She was also in contact with her family on a regular basis even at arms length. They seemed to expect a great deal of her. In some ways, Silas envied this and in others, he was glad to be on his own in the world without those demands.
Sennett and Silas talked over dinner and breakfast each day, and Sennett was able to answer almost any question that Silas put to her about the Catholic Church outside of Opus Dei. Over the days and weeks, he had built up a much clearer, well-balanced and more realistic picture of the faith. He was still hesitant and awkward about starting conversations by asking questions but as time went on, he learned to overcome it somewhat as Sennett never reacted strangely to any of his questions regardless of what they were. The only time she occasionally faltered was if he asked her about her own prophetic gift.
"The Bishop said we were to love all men," Silas said thoughtfully one evening.
"What about the women?" Sennett joked wryly, quite sure that Silas would have no more idea of the feminist movement than a baby. She was right. He stared at her blankly. "Sorry Silas, I know what you mean. I was just teasing you again. What were you saying?" she said ruefully.
"Well, I don't know what that means," Silas admitted, "Do you?"
Sennett put down her fork slowly and stared at Silas with sadness. She was sure he would have no idea at all. How could someone who had never been shown real love know what it was?
"Well, God doesn't love people generally en masse. He loves each of us individually and personally, right?" Sennett said.
"He does?" Silas asked wonderingly.
Sennett paused and thought about how she would explain it. "To love people generally is useless. Jesus didn't love all people generally did He? He loved each individual He came across specifically by healing them if they were sick, by forgiving their sins, by showing them compassion for their hurts, by eating and laughing and sharing with them, by getting to know them and sharing life with them – okay?" Sennett said.
Silas nodded.
"To love people generally is just a feeling, just an emotion. It doesn't do anyone any good. For example, if I had seen you bleeding to death in the grotto behind the Oratory and just stood there and projected a general sort of love your way and then left you to die – what good would that have done you? It would have been no use to you at all, regardless of how genuine the feeling was. In order for the love to be real, I would have to do something to help you. In the same way, it's no use to say to a sick person, 'I love you' and not give them medicine or to a person in jail, 'I care about you' and never visit them or tell a friend how much you care about them but never spend time with them listening to them and showing an interest in their life. Love is practical and it is shown to individuals, not to humanity as a whole," Sennett said, wrinkling her forehead and she tried to explain.
This was a thought that had never entered Silas' head before. Love was action, not just emotion. In order to love, you had to find out the needs of each person you met and do your best to meet them. You had to get to know a person one-on-one. Jesus didn't go out for huge charity drives en masse, He simply gave each person He came across what He could. If every person on the planet did that, no-one would want for anything. No-one would be lonely and no-one would be hungry and everyone who was sick would be taken care of.
"That's why you have so many friends," Silas said suddenly in his deep voice, "You love each of them individually in a useful way."
"Or maybe I just know a lot of people," Sennett joked but pleased Silas would think that of her.
"No, you know how to love," Silas said seriously, "I don't know how," he added to himself, frowning and shaking his white head.
"I don't know that you've had a great many good examples to show you how," Sennett said cautiously, not wanting to upset him.
Silas fell into a brown study. Bishop Aringarosa had visited him in jail, had fed him when he was injured in a serious fight with other inmates, had talked with him about God and answered the multitude of questions Silas had from reading the Bible he had found in his cell. Aringarosa had done the same for others in the jail as part of his pastoral role as a priest but his kindness had stayed with Silas. After the jail wall had collapsed in an earthquake, Silas had escaped to find him. Silas found him in the town's church, being attacked by a pair of robbers who had just fled the same jail Silas had. Without even thinking, Silas had killed them both to save Aringarosa. In a moment of revelation to Silas, Aringarosa had called him an angel. It was the first time anyone had ever called him anything affirmative. Silas had clung to the image like a drowning man, even calling himself the Messenger of God a decade later as an Opus Dei numerary. It had become his identity when he had wanted to forget everything else he had ever been – thief, murderer, street kid, jailbird, freak, ugly, the list went on…
Now he was confused. Aringarosa had loved him according to Sennett's definition. What had gone wrong? Why had the Bishop betrayed his trust in the end, sending Silas to murder innocent (if deluded) men and thereby endangering his immortal soul? Did the Bishop love him or not?
Sennett could see the painful confusion on Silas' face. "What's wrong?" she asked gently.
"Bishop Aringarosa - he told me to murder those Priory Guardians!" Silas burst out, "But before then, he visited me in jail and fed me and took care of my injuries and helped me understand God and gave me a home at Opus Dei. He showed me a lot of love, according to what you say. But he still hurt me too, ordering me to murder innocent men!"
Sennett sighed and glanced away, her vision turning inwards. Sometimes Silas' view of the world could be very black and white.
"Just because someone can show you love doesn't mean they can't also hurt you," Sennett said flatly, speaking from her own experience within her own family, "I think the Bishop did care about you but he got twisted up from the lies he was told by this Teacher person. He desperately wanted to protect the Church and it made him lose perspective completely," Sennett paused, "As though one man could protect the whole of the Church; that's God's job," she added almost to herself. "At any rate, he abused the trust you had in him in order to serve what he thought was a greater purpose – being the saviour of the Church."
Silas looked confused, "Then how do you know who to trust?" he asked.
"You can't really trust anybody but if you don't give people your trust and risk being hurt, you will never be able to give and receive love. No-one is completely good or completely bad. Are you completely good?" she asked him rhetorically.
No, Silas thought, I am completely bad. He itched to put on a cilice once again but he squashed the thought down. He was never going to do that again. He had promised himself. On the other hand, he was glad to know that Sennett thought the Bishop had really cared about him, however inadequately.
"Does that happen to you?" Silas asked her curiously, "Are you hurt by people who love you?"
Sennett smiled at him, "All the time," she admitted honestly, "My father was very abusive but he loved me too. It was very confusing," she told him, admitting something to him that she rarely told anyone hoping it might help.
"How do you cope with that?" Silas asked, awestruck by her ability to cope. He had killed his own abusive father when he had killed Silas' mother. Having to live all your life with an abusive father seemed an impossible ask to Silas.
"Well, I tried to love him out of it for 25 years of my life. I realized eventually that I couldn't change him, no matter how much I forgave or loved him. He didn't want to change himself. He couldn't admit any fault within himself and so didn't feel the need to change. In the end, to protect myself, I had to cut him out of my life. It was the best thing I ever did but it took a long time to make that decision. I clung to hope much longer than I should have," Sennett said simply, "Every child needs their father. You know that."
Silas hadn't known that because he had buried his need for his father under a huge pile of churning, boiling hatred.
"I hated my father," Silas admitted shamefacedly.
"I told myself I hated my father too. I was easier to simplify the complex emotions I felt for him into something as uncomplicated and strong as hatred but it wasn't the truth. I still loved him too. I was angry with him, bitterly so. I pitied him because I could see how miserable he really was underneath all the bullying and I knew he had suffered as a kid. I was exasperated with his stupid lies and irritated by his manipulative behaviour. I hated the way he treated Mum and the way she almost colluded with him at times. Most of all, I needed something from him that he couldn't give me and that created a lot of grief," Sennett said slowly.
Silas had been too young when he had murdered his father out of anger and grief over his mother. He had not had 25 years of trying to work out a relationship with his father to come to terms with it all. Once more however, it was something else he and Sennett had in common; an impossible relationship with their father.