Chapter 10
In a cozy room lined with books--too many books for the shelves--a meeting was being held. The community creatively used just about every corner of the building and every inch of space but continued to need more room. Most of the volumes were about the spiritual life, some of them ancient looking, others just off the press. Some books contained the wonders of philosophy and psychology. All of them were used as food for the soul. A library truly reflects the people who own it, especially when the people are striving to find their reflection in one another and in the Sacred.
Chantal, David, and Francis sat at an old oak table. Chantal was delivering the results of her psychological autopsy to this small but august committee. David's temper was starting to flare.
"You mean to tell me that you knew that Abbot Francis treated Beth in the late seventies and you never told me?"
"Yes, David, I couldn't get hold of you during the week and last night was so rocky that I just didn't get to bring it up, but I knew I'd be telling you today so where's the harm?"
"The harm is that this is material, Chantal, that I could have had in mind as I continued on with this investigation and am only now getting it."
"I only found out about it the other day, David."
The man and woman looked at Francis as he began to speak. "We have an ethical issue here. I treated someone in confidentiality and under the privileged conditions, supported by civil law as well as canon law. It was shortly after she left religious life and was floundering around. I was an intern at a hospital where she was an out-patient and didn't even know if I could get the records until a few days ago. I did get the records. Chantal has them now. We each have before us a copy of the psychological autopsy. How about we move on from there, presuming the good will of everyone involved?"
"Okay by me Francis, if I may call you that."
"That's fine with me, Dave."
"By the way, Francis, let me lighten the atmosphere a little and ask you a question. Does that title Abbot come from Abba, the Aramaic word for daddy?"
"Yes it does, Dave, you're right on target. I really consider myself a brother to the Brothers and Sisters here and that is why I tend to call myself that, but I do answer to 'Abbot' and 'Doctor' and 'Brother' and once in a while from Catholics 'Father,' although that's not really accurate."
Chantal wondered out loud: "Why from Catholics?"
"Well, Chantal, most Catholics are so used to priests that when they see a man in a Church-related position they stereotype him into being a priest whether he is one or not. My call is to monasticism, the vowed life of contemplation, silence, and the overflowing of that into service for others. I have monastic vows, that is my whole vocation from God and consecrates me to God. Baptism does that in many ways for all Christians."
"I understand that, Francis. I remember when we were in graduate school and even more as interns you were on the brink of making this decision to found the monastery. You always seemed restless in your original community. You stated that most of the men were priests. Even though you admired many of them and some of them were close friends and continue to be, the emphasis was not on the vowed life, it was more on priestly ministry."
"That's exactly right, Chantal, and that's good for some people, but I know what I'm called to and here I am with bills and broken water pipes and all that goes with it. We need to be honest to our primary call or those demons we call symptoms result."
"As fascinating as this all is," Dave interjected, "we=d better get to the heart of why we're here."
"Very well. I've written up a report," Chantal said," and you each have one for review, I will point out a few of the highlights at this time. I'll simplify the matter by cutting out background data with which we are already familiar and get right to the heart of the matter. Here we go. Her husband, her friends, her colleagues tell me in every possible way that Beth was not suicidal. She was experiencing hassles and struggling to live and be with what she felt called to be, but had been living with that kind of stress for many years now."
"Why do I sense a "but" coming?" questioned Dave.
"Because about fifteen years ago when Francis treated her she did exhibit some suicidal ideation. Many people do now and then and it passes fairly easily. Francis gave me a psychological assessment report that he did on Beth when we interned. He had a very competent supervisor who reviewed it and co-signed the report, which is mandatory for a supervisor. Beth was coming to terms with something. She had shed the identity of being a religious after having worked so hard for change and new life for her community, and now was struggling to make it on her own, and in the most challenging arena--by becoming a theologian, which had been largely a man's domain and a priestly domain. Here was this laywoman struggling to make ends meet financially, coming to clarity with her genuine identity and call and terrified about all of it."
"Some people call it a sort of Zen madness," Francis offered. "St. John of the Cross, the famous Carmelite mystic and contemplative, teaches that at some point all of our images of God, the afterlife, and ourselves, can collapse. We experience great disorientation and only then do we become truly who we are and know God for what God is. This is where Beth was. It was not a chronic mental illness. It was a profound rite of passage."
"Pardon me for saying this, Doctors,@ Gold pragmatically offered, Abut my boss is claiming that this lady theologian killed herself.@ With that Dave suddenly jumped up startling both Chantal and Francis and said, "Can I use the phone?"
"Is something the matter, Dave?" Francis said. "You jumped up awfully quickly without any apparent reason and we're not sure why."
"Oh, that, it's the beeper in my pocket. I have it on vibrate so when somebody is trying to get hold of me I feel the thing vibrate, even through the flab."
"Oh, I get you," Francis stated. "When I was an intern, we had the old-fashioned kind that simply made noise. And yes, there's a phone over there. Feel free to use it. Would you like some privacy?"
"No, that's all right. Dave punched in a number quickly and was overheard saying: “Yes, yes, where, how long ago, I'll be right there." He hung up, turned to his two colleagues and said: "There's been a death, I've got to go."
"Is there anything we can do?" Chantal said.
"No, I don't think so. On second thought, maybe you can pray. It's in a religious place."
"Where's that? Francis asked.
"A place you may know of, the Center for Traditional Catholicism. One of the priests there was either murdered or committed suicide."