While on my retreat, I wrote a short story about Cuthbert. I hope you enjoy. it is not perfect, but made a point for me at the time.
John and Cuthbert
John had always admired Cuthbert, of course.
John and Cuthbert
John had always admired Cuthbert, of course.
“But how would he cope with my life, my work, my problems”
he would sometimes mutter. The work and pressures of his particular monastic journey
were getting John down. He always seemed to be busy, never finding time to unwind.
“It’s alright for him”
he moaned, “wandering off to his island there whenever he wants to. Some of us
have to do the work that keeps him fed, you know”. The work that morning had
been particularly tough and unrewarding, meaning that he was going to have to
return later to finish off.
It was odd that they bumped into each other just an hour
later, passing in the cloister. John tried to avoid the meeting, but Cuthbert seemed
to make an effort to come over to him. John was not sure why, as Cuthbert simply
greeted him saying “God’s blessing on you, Brother John” as he passed.
It was the late afternoon, when the monks would normally be
free for a couple of hours private study or similar before the evening meal,
when John had to return to the field and finish off. He watched Cuthbert walk
over to his island, huddled in his hood as the wind lashed him. “It’s alright
for you” John thought. Even more so as the rainclouds gathered, threatening,
above him.
As he continued to work, Johns mood became as dark as the
clouds above him. The rain had started, and the only bright spot was Cuthberts
island.
Hang, on, that was wrong. Why should the island be OK, when
everywhere else was miserable and dark? That made no sense. As he finished on
bundle, he looked over and saw that, sure enough, the island was lit up, as if
it was bright sunshine.
“Typical” muttered John, “he even gets his own good weather”,
but he was puzzled, because the light seemed to radiate from the island, not
onto it.
As he watched, the island glowed, centred on the cross that
always stood there. The cross glowed too, but not the white shine of the rest
of the island – in the midst of the storm, the cross was a just visible red
streak.
John sat down and offered this vision to God. It slowly started
to dawn on him.
Cuthberts role wasn’t the easy one – it was just different.
His role wasn’t the hard one, it was just the place he fitted into at the
moment. It is probably true that Cuthbert would not have coped as well as he
did with some of the pressures of his work. It is almost certainly true that
Cuthbert struggled with the whole monastic life thing, just like John himself
did, sometimes. It was wrong to be jealous, because every place has its
challenges, its problems.
That was the thing, he realised. Being jealous is wrong, because every role has its challenges as well as its benefits. It is far too easy to see the benefits, and not realise the challenges, especially if these are hidden.
That was the thing, he realised. Being jealous is wrong, because every role has its challenges as well as its benefits. It is far too easy to see the benefits, and not realise the challenges, especially if these are hidden.
The truth is, John realised, that each has their own part to play. It may take a time to find that part, and the part will not necessarily be easy, but it is where you best fit. That is Gods ideal place for you at this time, and if it is Gods place, he had no right to be complaining.
He was still kneeling when he felt a touch on his shoulder,
and opened his eyes to see that it was getting dark. As he turned, Cuthbert was
standing there, smiling.
“Come, on, lets see if there is any food left” he said.
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