Rubbing his hands together to warm them, he sat down on the curb. I sat down next to him. The fog was growing thicker by the minute. The church was already hidden from sight, and it was only sixty feet away from us.
All I could see was the well. I remembered what the young woman in Madrid had said.
'She is present,' I said.
'Who?'
'The Goddess,' I answered. 'She is this mist.'
'So, he must have talked to you about that,' he laughed. 'Well, I prefer to refer to Her as the Virgin Mary. That's what I'm used to.'
'What are you doing here? How do you know my name?' I repeated.
'I came here because I wanted to see you two. A member of the Charismatic group last night told me you were both staying in Saint-Savin. And it's a small place.
'He went to the seminary.'
The padre's smile disappeared, and he shook his head. 'Too bad,' he said, as if speaking to himself.
'You mean, too bad he went to the seminary?'
'No, he's not there. I've just come from the seminary.'
For a moment, I couldn't say anything. I thought back to the feeling I'd had when I woke up: the money, the arrangements I needed to make, the call to my parents, the ticket. But I'd made a vow, and I wasn't going to break it.
A priest was sitting beside me. As a child, I used to tell everything to our priest.
'I'm exhausted,' I said, breaking the silence. 'Less than a week ago, I finally learned who I am and what I want in life. Now I feel like I've been caught in a storm that's tossing me around, and I can't seem to do anything about it.'
'Resist your doubts,' the padre said. 'It's important.'
His advice surprised me.
'Don't be frightened,' he continued, as if he knew what I was feeling. 'I know that the church is in need of new priests, and he would be an excellent one. But the price he would have to pay would be very high.'
'Where is he? Did he leave me here to return to Spain?'
'To Spain? There's nothing for him to do in Spain,' said the priest. 'His home is at the monastery, only a few kilometers from here. He's not there. But I know where we can find him.'
His words brought back some of my joy and courage—at least he hadn't gone away.
But the priest was no longer smiling. 'Don't let that encourage you,' he went on, again reading my mind. 'It would be better if he
He stood and asked me to go with him. We could see only a few yards in front of us, but he seemed to know where he was going. We left Saint-Savin by the same road along which, two nights beforeor could it have been five years before?—I had heard the story of Bernadette.
'Where are we going?' I asked.
'To find him,' he answered.
'Padre, you've confused me,' I said, as we walked along together. 'You seemed sad when you said he wasn't at the seminary.'
'Tell me what you know about the religious life, my child.'
'Very little. Only that the priests take a vow of poverty, chastity, and obedience.' I wondered whether I should go on and decided that I would. 'And that they judge the sins of others, even though they may commit the same sins themselves. That they know all there is to know about marriage and love, but they never marry. That they threaten us with the fires of hell for mistakes that they themselves make. And they present God to us as a vengeful being who blames man for the death of His only Son.'
The padre laughed. 'You've had an excellent Catholic education,' he said. 'But I'm not asking you about Catholicism. I'm asking about the spiritual life.'
I didn't respond for a moment. 'I'm not sure. There are people who leave everything behind and go in search of God.'
'And do they find Him?'
'Well, you would know the answer to that, Padre. I have no idea.'
The padre noticed that I was beginning to gasp with exertion, and he slowed his pace.
'You had that wrong,' he said. 'A person who goes in search of God is wasting his time. He can walk a thousand roads and join many religions and sects—but he'll never find God that way.
'God is here, right now, at our side. We can see Him in this mist, in the ground we're walking on, even in my shoes. His angels keep watch while we sleep and help us in our work. In order to find God, you have only to look around.
'But meeting Him is not easy. The more God asks us to participate in His mysteries, the more disoriented we become, because He asks us constantly to follow our dreams and our hearts. And that's difficult to do when we're used to living in a different way.
'Finally we discover, to our surprise, that God wants us to be happy, because He is the father.'
'And the mother,' I said.
The fog was beginning to clear. I could see a small farmhouse where a woman was gathering hay.
'Yes, and the mother,' he said. 'In order to have a spiritual life, you need not enter a seminary, or fast, or abstain, or take a vow of chastity. All you have to do is have faith and accept God. From then on, each of us becomes a part of His path. We become a vehicle for His miracles.'
'He has already told me about you,' I interrupted, 'and he has taught me these ideas.'
'I hope that you accept God's gifts,' he answered. 'Because it hasn't always been that way, as history teaches us. Osiris was drawn and quartered in Egypt. The Greek gods battled because of the mortals on earth. The Aztecs expelled Quetzalcoatl. The Viking gods witnessed the burning of Valhalla because of a woman. Jesus was crucified. Why?'
I didn't have an answer.
'Because God came to earth to demonstrate His power to us. We are a part of His dream, and He wants His dream to be a happy one. Thus, if we acknowledge that God created us for happiness, then we have to assume that everything that leads to sadness and defeat is our own doing. That's the reason we always kill God, whether on the cross, by fire, through exile, or simply in our hearts.'
'But those who understand Him…'
'They are the ones who transform the world—while making great sacrifices.'
The woman carrying the hay saw the priest and came running in our direction. 'Padre, thank you!' she said, kissing his hands. 'The young man cured my husband.''
'It was the Virgin who cured your husband,' he said. 'The lad is only an instrument.'
'It was he. Come in, please.'
I recalled the previous night. When we arrived at the cathedral, a man had told me I was with a man who performed miracles.
'We're in a hurry,' the padre said.
'No! No, we're not,' I said, in my halting French. 'I'm cold, and I'd like some coffee.'
The woman took me by the hand, and we entered the house. It was simple but comfortable: stone walls, wood floors, and bare rafters. Seated in front of the fireplace was a man of about sixty. As soon as he saw the padre, he stood to kiss his hand.
'Don't get up,' said the priest. 'You still need to convalesce a bit.'
'I've already gained twenty-five pounds,' he answered. 'But I'm still not able to be of much help to my wife.'
'Not to worry. Before long, you'll be better than ever.
'Where is the young man?' the husband asked.
'I saw him heading toward where he always goes,' the wife said. 'Only today, he went by car.'
The padre eyed me but didn't say anything.
'Give us your blessing, Pere,' the woman asked. 'His power…'
'The Virgin's power,' the priest corrected.
