“Go ye, therefore, and teach all
nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the
Holy Spirit” Matt. 28:19
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The barred window looked upon a
dreary sky. Wisps of clouds meandered by unnoticed by the condemned man. Most
of the meal remained untouched, a few crumbs lying on the rough wooden table.
Head in hands, the lifelong criminal had no specific thoughts – only the desire
to be outside, out of this cold, damp place, free from the impending doom.
He lifted his head at the sound of
footsteps approaching, loud and echoing on the stone corridor outside the cell.
The key shrieked in the rusty lock as the bolt was withdrawn. Quickly he
reached for the hasp of his knife that was no longer there, the knife that had
ended the lives of several souls, the knife by which he had gained bread and
drink. Even now he thought he might be able to escape and return to the shadows
of the City and hide. A man of action, hope had failed long ago.
Three guards shuffled in with steps
bold yet shy, the look of death on their faces, uncomfortable with the reminder
of their own end to come. They took strategic positions around the cell to protect
the priest who now entered. The priest was dressed formally in the garb of
planned final rites, the symbols of religion correctly placed on his person. He
made the sign of the cross.
The priest took a deep breath to
express his righteous sorrow at the execution to come and said “Bert Nichols,
are ye reedy to meet yer maker”, just as he had been trained many years before
by the old priest who now was Bishop of the Diocese that included the Tower
Prison. “I am reedy to hear yer confession and offer cleansing according to the
precepts of the church”. “I’ve naught to say Priest. Be gone” replied Bert.
“Bert, ye need to unnerstan, the
eternal torments of hell that await one who dies with unshirven. Forever to be
tormented by Satan, poked and prodded by his demons with no escape, burning
thirst with no hope of a drap of water, constant torture with intense pain, no
friends, no hope, no comfort, darkness lightened only by the flaming embers”.
Good thought the priest, all the points as taught by the old priest that always
resulted in confession.
“Bah, go awn away. I don’t believe
ye, an whut’s more, ye don’t believe it yerself”. The priest just wanted this
over and the duty done. He was distracted by the thought of meat night at the
church; the other brothers whom were always kind to one who had completed an
execution duty, normally because they wanted to know the details of the
confession.
“Howzat? Whut did ye say”, the
priest’s attention was now full on the condemned man. “Do ye now blaspheme
against the beliefs of the church in addition to yer sin of murder? Careful
Bert, have ye never heard of unforgiveable sin. Confess and be cleansed.” The
priest tried to calm his trembling hand.
“I tell ye this, my little brother Priest.
The church has always kept to itself and I’ve always kept to myself. Ye come
out at times to toss a few crumbs to the old ones who stand by. Never have I
seen a priest around the docks where I plied a trade. If ye believed what ye
say, and I believed what ye say, we’d be crawling across England
Adapted
_____________________________________________________________________What is your broken glass? Ask Abba – He will tell you.
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