CHAPTER 14 - CHINA
Reading these handwritten letters from our founder and foundress puts me into an altered state of consciousness. It's like I hurtle back in time to the fifteen hundreds and am in their presence, see them interact, and am filled with the light of grace. What a difference from the plaster saints we were raised with. This woman and man had hearts of flesh and blood. They became holy through life events, not by withdrawing from the challenges of life. This, too, is my call as a contemporary Salesian monk.
Whenever I bring up the question of where these papers came from, Theresa seems to shy away from the topic. Even when we are with a group of her friends, they all become ill at ease when I ask about the person who had these papers before me. I will try again this morning at breakfast.
The table was laden with steaming bowls of a wide variety of food. Some bowls were filled with liquid and some were filled with fruit A few of my favorites were prominently displayed. These are a type of white steamed buns and small egg custard pies. None of the many family relatives and friends were around. It was just me, Theresa, and the superabundance of food. I still don't know how I can get this woman to keep from cooking so much. I am grateful for the peanut butter that she has around. Sometimes it's hard to take more Chinese food. Being a vegetarian, peanut butter is a good source of protein for me--and I like the taste!
"Theresa, I have been totally absorbed by the letters of our holy mother St. Jane de Chantal and our holy father St. Francis de Sales. Every time I ask you about how these parchments came to you, you avoid the topic. I don't want to put you on the spot, so to speak, but I would love to understand how these documents traveled from over four hundred years ago in France and are now in my hands."
"On the spot?"
"It's just an American saying, Theresa. It means that I don't want to force you into saying or revealing something you don't want to talk about. That's especially important, given the fact that in the Salesian family we encourage liberty of spirit, not force.” The words I had printed on the remembrance card that I gave out when I took my solemn vows were from St. Francis de Sales to St. Jane de Chantal. It read: "All through love, nothing through fear."
"Brother Francis, I have been reading about your holy founders and find them to be delightful, very human. The only St. Francis I knew of was St. Francis of Assisi. I had never even heard of St. Jane de Chantal. Their message is so encouraging and so simple. I can fit their teachings into my life so easily. I would like to share with you what I know of the journey of those sacred letters now. Part of my hesitation included the fact that I was just learning about your founders. I read some modern books about them. There was, however, a more important reason for my evasiveness.
"My dear brother, my main hesitation in sharing with you the journey of those letters is because, even though I know very little of the details of their journey, I do know that the last person to possess those letters is now deceased. He was my cousin.” She smiled shyly. “Don't start that again, I know you're going to say that I have a million cousins. I know that I probably do and I am grateful for every one of them. This cousin had those letters passed on to him as a young man, from his father I believe."
"Can you tell me more about your cousin, Theresa? Where did he live? How old was he? How did he die?"
“My cousin lived nearby, a journey of a few hours only. He lived in the country with his wife and children. He was a woodworker. He earned enough to keep his family comfortable and not much beyond that. He was in his forties and a very gentle soul. A few months ago he was out hunting for food for his family and was accidentally shot. As you can imagine, his wife, just about twenty-eight years old, was distraught. She struggles to make sense of her ordeal. I do what I can to be of support to her. It is my hope that the two of you will meet before very long."
The monk’s mind could not take in the parallel between St. Jane de Chantal's husband being killed in a hunting accident when she was twenty-eight years of age, and Theresa's cousin having the same experience. The only link between the two women was the letters.
"How many children does she have?"
"She has four living children, and she lost two children around the time of childbirth."
Brother Francis was stunned. His mind began reeling. "Can we visit her soon, Theresa? I would really love to meet her. I am burning with the desire to understand how it came to pass that these letters came to me, and if there is some response I am supposed to be making because I am in possession of them."
Theresa began to cry. "I am very frightened for you, Brother Francis. The last person to possess those letters was killed. Perhaps the same thing will happen to you. I try not to be superstitious but I suppose I am. I would rather have you drop the whole topic. From what I've heard from my cousin Tian in the United States, however, I don't believe you're someone who can just let go of an unsolved mystery, even at the risk of his own life."
"You are getting to know me well in a short time, Theresa. I have always had to follow through on the “question marks” in life. This has gotten me into trouble and some danger at times, but my attitude usually bears good fruit. My approach to the discernment of spirits, to making decisions based on God's designs, suggests to me that we need to look at the fruit of our choices. My choices to follow through with mysteries typically lead to good fruit, not rotten fruit, as the Gospel puts it. These fruits include my own inner freedom, or another person's ability to make choices that are in harmony with his or her gifts and desires, or helping a person to become more healthy or happy."
"As you wish, Brother Francis. We can go to the country today and you can meet my cousin and her children. I know, I know, it will be one more cousin in a list of thousands," Theresa said, with the beginning of a smile on her face. Courage was gently replacing her fear.