The Incense of my Absolution
Believe it or not, I’ve tried to live a virtually
transparent life for the past decade or more.
Don’t be deceived, I did say “virtually transparent.” I have believed for a long time that this is
expected of those in ministry. We do
live in glass houses. I attempt to make
my trials, struggles and humanity known.
There are, of course, some things I cannot share, or choose not to
share, but those are things I can’t keep inside either. To help me with that I’ve tried to maintain a
relationship with a spiritual director and/or confessor. I have one now, but he cannot compare in my
memory to my first, Brother Douglas.
Brother
Douglas was prior of Holy Cross Monastery. He had been a parish priest for years before
becoming a monk, and he was a recovering alcoholic. He died suddenly on his way to noon day
prayers 8-9 years ago. I wish he were
still in my life today to help me through my present struggles. Brother Douglas was a hugger. When he would see me coming he would throw
open his arms and envelop me in a huge, long hug. At first I didn’t like this because Douglas
was a smoker, and after his hugs I would smell like his pipe smoke. I don’t know what brand of tobacco he used,
but the only way to rid one’s self of that smell was to wash the clothes and
take a shower. He would provide the same
generous loving hug after our conversation and direction.
I
developed a deep and abiding love for Douglas, and I remember many of our talks
very well. He usually wanted to sit in
the refectory where we would drink coffee or tea over our conversation. The years of smoking had left him with a
deeper raspy voice, and his beard was stained from the smoke. He would listen intently to this young
priest; sometimes with practical problems; sometimes with deep theological
questions; sometimes with a troubled soul.
Afterward he would offer some advice and direction, or if need be,
absolution from whatever sins I felt I had committed. His love and care for me have never been
matched, and to my mind his wisdom and tranquil spirit will never be surpassed.
Did I
mention how I hated his pipe smoke? Over
the years I came to long for those hugs.
There’s just something about a good man-hug that makes the world seem
better. I came to look forward to those
hugs and the indelible scent of his pipe on me.
Today I look back on those conversations—hugs and smoke—as the incense
of my absolution. I love to leave church
with the smell of incense in my vestments and clothes because I know I’ve been
to church, and I came to love the smell of his pipe smoke on my clothes because
I knew I had been heard. I knew I had
been with Douglas. His prayer was
effectual, his ear was never too heavy, and his assurance of my forgiveness was
profound. I will continue to make my
confessions, but how I long for the incense of my absolution.
