The Tree Within. Stephen Campana

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СКАЧАТЬ I first started off as a priest I worked as a missionary in Africa. We were there to bring them the gospel, but also to bring them food and medicine. I wanted so desperately to help those people. But day after day I saw them dying by the dozens. Little children, who had never harmed anyone, baking in the sun, their bellies distended with hunger, their heads swollen, their limbs like sticks, starving to death in the streets like dogs. I began to realize that if this life were a battle between good and evil, then evil was winning. Darkness was swallowing the light; the devil was stronger than God. But the more I read my bible the more I realized that maybe it wasn’t so simple. Isaiah 45:7 says: ‘I form the light and create darkness. I bring prosperity and create disaster; I the Lord do all these things.’

      It’s all of God, Kanye. It is not our job to conquer evil in this life, or even to discern its precise source or meaning. That is beyond our powers. Our job is to help people. To salve their wounds, to bring them food, to visit them in prison, to comfort them in their afflictions, to assure them their love ones are in heaven, and that their efforts do not go unrewarded. Our job is to give them the answers they seek, to simplify things for them, so their minds can process them. And this man, Adam, and his mission, will bring only confusion.”

      “You talk about mankind as if they are a collection of infants,” Kanye said. “They are infants,” the Cardinal replied, “And the church is the world’s biggest nursemaid. Who else but infants would believe that you receive forgiveness by confessing your sins to a priest in a dark booth? Or that you receive strength by eating a cookie that’s been transformed into the body of Christ? Or that you receive grace by praying the Hail Mary twenty times on a bead of rosaries? Or that you get your dead relatives into heaven quicker by saying novenas for them, or praying to so-called saints on their behalf? They are infants, Kanye; they are infants, and our job is to take care of them.”

      Kanye was shocked to hear the Cardinal talk this way. He had not known that he had grown so cynical. “The church you just described sounds a lot like Satan to me,” Kanye said.

      “I haven’t believed a goddamned thing the church has said for forty years,” the cardinal said. “I don’t serve the church. I don’t serve the devil. I serve man. God doesn’t need me; He doesn’t need my praise, my songs, my worship, my flattery. He’s quite comfortable in His heaven without a word from me. But people do need me, Kanye. Those children if Africa; they needed me. The people dying alone in hospitals; they need me. The people forgotten in prisons; they need me. And it is for them, and them alone, that I wear this clown costume, and do the things I do.”

      “So, where does that leave me? And my mission? If it’s all the same—God and Satan—then why are we serving either one? Why not just follow our own consciences? Because mine tells me that killing is wrong.”

      “Then you should follow it,” the cardinal said. “Maybe if Abraham had said ‘No way’ when God told him to kill Isaac five thousand years ago, we’d all be better off today.”

      “Maybe so,” Kanye said. And with that, he thanked the old cardinal for his time, and hung up. He didn’t know if anything had been resolved or not, but he did no one thing for sure: he had some serious thinking to do.

      9

      Jack just stared at her, unable to speak. She looked just like she did in his dreams. Of course, she did. Why wouldn’t she? It was the same person. She had her hair pulled back in a bun, and wore no make-up; beauty, in a place like this, was something you did not want to accentuate. Her features were small, her mouth slightly crooked, and her eyes were big brown limpid pools. He felt enveloped by them. She had a kind of latent grin on her lips, like she was trying to hold back a laugh. She was wearing jeans and a loose fitting grey T shirt.

      “So, how do you like it so far?” she asked, taking a small bite out of large potato chip. If she recognized him at all, knew anything of him or of their mission, her voice did not betray that knowledge. It was calm and casual, with no hint of excitement or tension. “It’s not so bad,” he said, his voice not nearly as shaky as he felt. “I’ve had worse.”

      And that was the truth; he had. The last two years had been a succession of crappy jobs, one worse than the next.

      “Where did you work before?” she asked. “A place in Akron,” he replied, trying not to stare too deeply into those all-consuming eyes. “Kind of like this one, actually. A packing plant.”

      She poured the chips onto the table and said, “Have some.”

      “Thank you,” he said, popping a chip into his mouth, and hoping he remembered how to chew. “So, how long were you there?” she asked. “About three months,” Jack replied.

      “What about before that?” she asked.

      Jack was starting to feel like he was under interrogation, with those eyes serving as heat lamps. “Two months at a vending company in Cedar Lake, Indiana” he said. “And before that, I did a stint in Ashford, Alabama.”

      “Akron, Cedar Lake, Ashford,” Diane said, furrowing her brow. “Are you a drifter?” Jack just shrugged, and said “Yeah, I guess I am.”

      “What about family?” she asked. “Do you have any?”

      “I left home two years ago,” Jack said. “That’s when the drifting began.”

      “Must get lonely,” she said, her voice still cold and impersonal, in stark contradistinction to her eyes, which bore holes in their target. “Yeah, it does,” Jack said. “But I was lonely with my family, too.”

      “How so?”

      “Well, my father was a Pentecostal preacher. Always trying to shove the bible down my throat. He thought . . .” Jack stopped. He could not tell her the real reason for the rift that had developed between himself and his father. That’s because it involved the mission, and he wasn’t prepared to mention that just yet. So, he just said “Well, you know how it is with parents sometimes.”

      “Sure,” she shrugged, although it was obvious she sensed that he was holding something back.

      An awkward silence ensued. It was awkward for him, anyway. He did not think she felt awkward in the least. To fill the silence, he asked “What about you?”

      “What about me?” she asked.

      “How long have you worked here?”

      “About six months,” she said, “But something tells me I’ll be moving on soon.”

      “You’re not a drifter like me, are you?” he asked.

      She smiled slightly—a crooked, wry, beautiful smile—and said “Actually, I am. Except I’ve been drifting for more than two years. I’ve been drifting all my life.”

      “How come?” he asked. He was surprised, yet kind of thrilled, that the conversation had become so personal so fast. Did she talk to everyone this way or did she know him? Recognize him? “I never had a family,” she said, “I bounced around in foster homes all my life. Then, when I was sixteen I ran away. Been on my own since then.”

      “And still bouncing around?” Jack added.

      “Yeah,” she said.

      “Guess we’re just a couple of strays,” Jack noted.

      “I guess so,” she replied. Another СКАЧАТЬ