Ockhamism in a Real World

Tomorrow Morning, a short story

Rockshire, England 1334

Adam fought back the tears. He never cried. Really he never did. But today the combination of salt, alcohol, and powder on his hands and clothes could not long avoid his face and eyes. It must be the powder. Surely his emotions were under control.

That was another lie to himself. His emotions were a wreck. Men were not supposed to cry, but Adam surely could not tell that to the screaming riot of a man dying in his arms. Damien could not sit still in church, why should he not flail as a flag in a storm with his chest cut open? The poor man had tremendous energy for what was sure to be his last hour of life. No amount of alcohol would calm him enough for Adam to wrap the bloodied bandages. Adam found the new worst part of his job. He was finding lots of new worst parts of his job.

His job. Recently he spent very little time doing his actual job. His primary function, as he had learned from his priest as a little boy, was to consecrate the bread and wine so that the Lord Jesus Christ would become physically present, enter the faithful and fill them with God's grace. Yet that grace was in short supply the past few months. The winds from the coast had blown in more than gulls; a fresh army from Paris currently occupied the tiny hamlet Adam had called home all his life. The "siege" of Rockshire lasted four days, which was four days longer than it needed to last. They were a tiny village, but French intended to demoralize their enemies. Fitting irony, it seemed to Adam, after hearing the proud stories of how un-Christian-like his own king had unsuccessfully marched toward Paris the previous Fall.

Well, call it the first French victory of the year, but the people of Rockshire were demoralized. They all were. All except their priest, of course. Adam had remained steadfast and calm through so many storms. Rockshire's "rock", as some of the old women called him in their gossip. Damien hissed and seized again, just as Adam nearly cracked a smile at considering himself the "rock". So many smiles had been aborted recently. The pain on the table echoed the pain of the town. Adam did not believe in Fortune or Fate; he believed in the providence of God. Fate, however, accepted blame much more easily than almighty God, at least in Adam's head. The discomfort of tying his neighbor's arms to a bed long enough so that his wife and daughter could come in to kiss him before he died multiplied by equal measure with the grafting realization that Adam did blame God after all. Yes, God did all this because God hated Adam. And God will never give Katie back.

Katie. Adam knew he would surely cry if he went down that road. He could not let himself think about her. He had to try to get her out of his mind. If he could clear his head and focus on helping Damien and the others, he could get through this night without personal regret. Tomorrow, when the French would perhaps finally be done searching the town for "spies" or gold or whatever ruse they are using to tear apart every home and kill whoever grumbled, Adam will want to tell his conscience that he did the best he could. Adam had to think about tomorrow. Tomorrow, probably in midmorning, the survivors will gather at the church and he will have to encourage them. He will have to, perhaps even lie, saying that they did the best that they could. More than encourage, he will have to lead. Because of the cloth he wears, old men who only days earlier were complaining over their beer about how lousy a job Adam does and how he should "just mind his own business" will look up to the pulpit for their own cues. Funerals will have to be arranged, and he will have to arrange them. Even in this disaster the townsfolk and farmers will be petty. They will fight over which family gets which burial plot, and who will pay for what and who will inherit what. Their Lord Protector died defending another small town downriver more than a month ago, so lacking a judge surely his town will look to their priest to bring the peace of God. Not that it will matter much, since the French will take or burn anything of much value. Still, Adam's neighbors were known to fight over shirts and kettles. He so wished Katie were still here to support him.

He wished anyone were there to support him. Everyone who was not dead or bleeding ran around in aimless despair. There were rumors that the French were raping the whole town. Everyone was talking about it. Yet in the past twelve hours Adam had checked in with every household, and, since no husband or mother had brought a wife or daughter with a covered face to him for an immediate blessing, he felt sure that the rumors were unfounded. Of course, he did not put it past the French to do terrible things; after all, everyone hated the French. But for now Adam had bigger worries than a pandemic of phantom victims. He grew frustrated with his parishioners. Why must they always and forever be gossiping? Is there nothing else to do in his small town than chatter? In that moment, Adam became gruelingly aware of the things to do, and that he would have to do them. The French knew that they had killed any government of the town a month ago. Adam would become the ombudsman between the French and their new subjects. The French commander's English met Adam's French skills halfway, and he seemed like a competent yet hands-off governor as far as he needed to fill that role. Adam expected that as long as Rockshire remained quietly reposing, the only contention (aside from the obvious forty-one dead men of England, a number that would grow this evening) would be how many animals the French would slaughter and eat or kill for sport. The town could forage or fish to live until the Winter, but without the animals now alive bearing offspring, the town would have neither grain nor meat for the Winter. Living animals would ensure the survival of the town, now that the fields had been burned. Adam suddenly felt the burden of his town's survival weighing on his shoulders. Tomorrow morning would bring not only a meeting with his town, but a meeting with the man who held the power of life or death for his town.

Life and Death: were not those things that God possessed sovereign control over? Adam had nearly completed the wrap of the arms and the chest, and Damien seemed more controllable, even weaker. Yes, Damien was weakening, and now seemed like a good time to bring the wife and daughter in to say goodbye. Waiting, Adam knew, would risk Damien losing consciousness and dying before the family could see him, and then all of the bandaging and cleaning would be for nothing. Not for nothing at all, perhaps, since Adam would also fill the role of mortician this evening, a role he had filled all week. In seminary at Canterbury, Adam heard a sermon from the Archbishop who stated that the priest should never perform the mutilation of bodies required at burials. Even at that time Adam was confused about his teaching, since the parable of the Good Samaritan taught that priests should touch or aid dying or dead bodies. More than that, it was completely natural for the priests to help with the burial preparations, since the sacrament of the last rites required the presence of the priest anyway. God held the power of life and death, and His ministers should not shy away from the most undesirable portions of either, Adam thought. Back then, Adam had little idea of how undesirable the job would get. He stepped back from the waist-high bed. Damien now breathed with only half of his chest. Adam looked at his own clothes, searching for a dry place with which to wipe his eyes and face. There was none. He raised his chin to check the room for cloth, but the aching in his neck and shoulders gave him pause. He closed his eyes, instead deciding to let them drain themselves. The room, he knew, had experienced a rainstorm of blood and dirt. Men had died here all week.

Adam just stood there, letting his eyes drain. God had the power to give life and give death. Adam kept standing. Just standing, not thinking. Just standing . . .

The door knocked again. Adam hoped he had not been out long. He cracked open his eyes, still standing, as he called out a groggy, "Come in". Quickly he looked at Damien before the man entered . . . unconscious, but . . . but . . . still breathing. How long had Adam been unaware? Duane, a poor child and impromptu assistant to Adam who witnessed his father die the previous day, came into the room.

"Father Adam, the family wants to know if Damien will live. Sir, they have been waiting."
"Please, bring them in."

Adam had just a few moments to rehearse his comforts before the two women would realize that Damien would momentarily die in their arms. Then it happened. Adam honestly and earnestly envied Damien.

Damien's daughter entered the room with her mother, wearing the same dress Katie used to wear. Could it be? It appeared to be the same dress, not a copy, but the same dress that belonged to his Katie . . . . The broken buttons were, oh no, they were the same. Oh God no, please no. Lord Jesus, if you love me, do not do this. How could she have it on? Why? No? No! Oh God no! Is there no comfort for me? Why can I have no rest? NO! God, no. Where is your salvation now? Where is your love? God gives life and death, but not love. God I hate you.

Adam fell to the floor.

Adam spent his boyhood in the church halls, cleaning and prepping, and when old enough, as an alter boy. As a boy his priest likened him so the prophet Samuel, who grew up in the temple, and Adam often had wished his name had instead been Samuel. His family was poor but self-sufficient, and mostly kept to themselves because, unlike all the other families, had no kin outside their house. Kinship was the fabric of Rockshire, and lacking any, Adam sought refuge in the Church, and in God. Adam's one friend growing up had been Katherine. Only Adam called her Katie, and although she protested, he knew she was disappointed whenever he did not call her that. Katie was born during the "hard winter", and was the only surviving child born in many months after or prior. Having no sisters, Katie struggled to homogenize with the small town, despite her warm attitude and pleasant features. Many days during their youth, several a week usually, Katie would hurry to finish her chores and run off to the church in early afternoon to find Adam scrubbing the church floors or cutting candles or even reading the Bible to their old priest. Katie often wondered if Father John could even read, since his eye problems only seemed to affect his sermon preparation. She was often flattered to hear ideas Adam had spoken about with her during the week in Father John's Sunday homily. Katie always thought that Adam worked too much, and whenever she arrived at the church he would briefly resist her, saying that God deserved his attention, but would soon give in and join her in some sort of adventure. They had explored all the fields, forests, and crags near their village, and would endlessly discuss or debate what it would be like if the two of them explored the rest of the world.

Adam had always thought they would grow old together. They never talked about marriage, since the whole town had always assumed he would be their next priest. Adam, despite his skill with books and with managing personalities, preferred a more solitary life than even the priesthood would offer, and imagined one day striking out on an exploration of the entire world with Katie. After his parents died, Adam spent two years clearing the forest near the church, and another building a comfortable home on the land. The town had already sacrificed to build Father John a parsonage, and since Adam should soon live there, thought his endeavor was pointless. Katie, however, seemed pleased, and would often keep him company there. The pair never discussed who would live there, but mutually consented to the layout and furnishings of the home.

It was on Katie's nineteenth birthday that it happened. A storm was brewing, and as was custom many of the poorer families of the town would seek the dry safety of the church and place their animals in their own homes. Adam and Katie had been cutting candles that day, and were carrying bundles across the field the short distance to the church. They hurried, as the rain had just begun and the wind was blowing colder. As they entered the church, Adam was pleased to see that the whole town had joined them there. Katie caught on more quickly, and as comprehension washed across Adam's face, his accuser spoke.

The man said that Adam had seduced Katherine under the guise of the priestly office. He accused them of a secret marriage, and that the two had plans of stealing the church's monies and fleeing the town. The accuser further suggested that Adam stand trial for fornication and thievery. Adam, growing hot, was ready to pummel the man, when the final horrific words were spoken: as a selfless act of salvation, the accuser would agree to marry the soiled Katherine. At that moment, men seized Adam and the trial, already rehearsed, began. An hour later, a "gracious" jury acquitted Adam of fornication and thievery on the condition that he join the priesthood and give his home to Katherine as a wedding present. He protested both, but the verdict was accepted without his input. The men accompanied him to Canterbury the next morning.

Two months passed, and word was sent to Canterbury that Father John had died, and that the town desperately needed Adam to return. A dispensation was given, and Adam returned to his town as their new priest. His first duty was to marry Katherine and his accuser, who had already begun living in the house he had built. Some months later, Katherine and his accuser's child died in childbirth. Adam performed last rites on them both, and the accuser left the town to join the royal army before Katherine was even interred. Adam delayed as long as he could, then put mother and child in the ground himself.

It was in the house that Adam built, now a hospital for its proximity to the church, that Adam lay next to Damien. Duane vigorously tried to revive him, and as it worked Adam tried to resist, wishing instead to remain unconscious. As Adam became aware, he realized that he lay next to Damien not on the floor, but on a bed. Sunlight glimmered on the walls of the room. Unsure, Adam asked if it was the morning, but was unable to form the words from the dryness of his mouth. Damien spoke.

"We made it, Father. We both lived through the night."

Adam thought this to be nonsense. Surely a trick. Damien's wounds were more than sufficient for death.

Damien's daughter, still in the dress, entered the room to bring Adam water.

"You did it, Father Adam, you saved him. You would have given your life to save his. Thank you, oh, thank you." She began to kiss his hands, then propped his head and poured him water. Adam required several servings of water before his strength returned.

"Dear girl, only God has the power of life and death."

Posted by Jake at March 13, 2004 11:18 AM | TrackBack