A multi-paneled glass door provided a side exit out of the ornate room. Elder Lewis and I journeyed at a slowed pace as if I were escorting him to a special event while he clung weakly to my bent elbow for support. The garden beyond the cold confining interior of the cherry-walled study seemed to capture every last ray of the evening sun injecting it into the beauty of the carefully placed flowers growing along the cobblestone walk way. The priest’s voice seemed much smaller and weaker in this open vastness of beauty and lavish serenity being made less significant by the slight shuffling of his shoe heels against the stones beneath them. The sunlight upon his elder face gave definition to the many wrinkles that were drawn upon his face by the suggestion of a thousand fine and sharpened pencil strokes.
Reverend Malcolm led me to his car parked in front of the entrance and we silently began our journey to my home. I am sure that I had projected much hatred in my inflections toward Reverend Malcolm, but he made no indication of offense. The sun had settled beyond the trees before we entered the highway through the large gates that contained us. I spoke not to Reverend Malcolm but to myself silently as rational thought returned to the forefront of my conscious. What had I done to my family? Why was my mind troubled with thoughts of evil when clearly I am surrounded daily by goodness and light? I missed Lynn and Doyle terribly, and felt that I must pay them back for deserting them as I had. Onward the road buried itself beneath the rubber tires as the car hood absorbed the reflections of the orange center lines before us. The monotonous drone of the tires upon the road seemed adequate conversation for the journey homeward.
“Mr. Abel, the gentlemen in this compound take much great pride in their daily work on our beautiful gardens. They work unselfishly to reflect God’s beauty through his gift of botany only to see them destroyed under the weight of the unforgiving winters. The winters bring extreme winds and cumbersome snowfalls that bury them beneath, most times breaking the evergreens and diminishing the hard work that toiled over them from spring to fall. It is an unforgiving cycle of life to say the very least.”
“I can tell that a lot goes into all of this. My wife would love to see it. What is all this anyway? It seems like quite a lot of work has gone into this…compound. Is that what you called this? A compound?”
“You must bring Mrs. Abel soon to witness this beauty; the season is short indeed. I fear that the coming months will be as hard on them as past winters have proven. I would be happy to show her around but I am afraid that my sojourns through the garden have become less frequent than years past. My age has made the beauty of this garden more of a chore then an enjoyment.”
The old man seemed to peer back towards the buildings as we ventured farther away and more removed to the countryside. He assumed an almost paranoid position as if someone may overhear our discussion. Once confident that we had journeyed far enough from the buildings he seemed to relax and talk freely, pausing atop the cobblestone pathway and turning to face me.
“Mr. Abel, I believe that I can trust in you. I believe that you are the one who I have been expecting for a very long many years. This compound was once a monastery quite some time ago before the Franciscan monks who lived here and built this beautiful area were forced out. Now, you will not find that in your history books, Mr. Abel, nor will any here repeat these words; but, true is the plight of the Franciscan gentlemen who were so dedicated to this beautiful and holy place. When these…men of reverence, these elders of the People’s Church sensed the growing disturbance in this area, their power, money, and greed established this…this compound where once God’s soldiers prayed, lived, and glorified him.
I was an older priest who found solace from the throes of war within these hills and hallowed halls, serving and praying; praying and waiting. You see, war, Mr. Abel, will bend men. It will force decisions. It will etch lines on a man’s soul with an indelible mark. War changes hearts and chases away childhood as the devil would so quickly shun prayer. So often I have damned the war that hardened the boy who would become my own father. I survived war as but at the loss of my own identity. Even a Catholic priest in war will discover himself in a way that he would not in a chapel in the woods. The young man who gave his life for me was named Bertrand Lewis and he was part of a culture called The People’s Church. They were not well known, as they are now, but growing in popularity among the wealthy. My name…my real name is Jessup White…Father Jessup White. Although I lived, I was changed. I heard Tonder speaking to me as the helicopter landed and my boots touched ground. Lewis heard it too and together we followed the instructions it gave us as it promised we would live a do his bidding; keeping evil at bay. Lewis was exalted, proclaiming that God would protect us and nothing could harm us. I grabbed him by the sleeve and started toward the tree line and out of the open clearing. He spun my body and slammed me to the ground. He placed his face in mine and said, ‘It’s Tonder, God is with us,’ then he turned and ran back in the direction we were headed. He ran alone as I watched him, still on my back.
When the land mine detonated, I watched as Bertrand Lewis’ body disintegrated into a pink haze that dissipated into the blast. I felt as though my legs were welded to the ground and my lungs filled with lead. Thirty seconds earlier, I was leading Lewis to that very place where the mine awaited. He saved me by unknowingly throwing me to the ground and leaving me there. His dog tags were all that I found and exchanged them with my own, putting myself through the duration of the war as a grunt and mourning the death of my past identity of Father Jessup White. God had betrayed me. Tonder mislead me. So, throughout these years I have shunned the voice of Tonder and followed its strength to this location.”
“So, Elder Lewis is not your name – it’s Father White?”
“Correct, Mr. Abel, war makes for secrets of the heart and soul. I am no exception. I live here in anonymity, listening to the taunts and demands of Tonder, ignoring the instruction and searching for truth. I also pray that my promised demise is that of holiness and not evil as I have come to terms with the certainty regardless of my own uncertainty. As every priest will tell you, Mr. Abel, he has an indelible mark on his soul. Once ordained he is always a priest. I accept that and I am blessed by the Lord in that aspect in spite of my sins of omission.”
The old man reached deep into an inside pocket of his robe and revealed a small, round, golden container in the palm of his hand. The metal container was scratched and dented, aged and worn. The hinged lid questionably attached yet affixed. He cupped the container in his open palm and smiled as he gazed upon it lovingly. He raised his squinted eyes toward me and continued.
“As a priest, Mr. Abel, I have a dedication to the Blessed Sacrament; to the Body of Christ. My adoration has continued since my ordination as a young man. Daily, I dedicate silent prayer in secrecy and in adoration of the Body of Christ. On the battlefield, and for my life, I carried His body with me. Contained in this small pyx for this many years is the Blessed Sacrament; the Body of Christ. This small portion of consecrated host is my connection to my priestly obligation; locked away in secret as I search to discover Tonder. My protection and strength is the Blessed Body of Christ. Corpus Christi; our salvation.”
“Elder Lewis, I mean, Father White; I am quite confused. What is the significance of Tonder? Is this God? As a priest, don’t you have an obligation to follow the word of God and His direction? I mean, I was raised Catholic and did my time in adoration; even went to confession and communion regularly. Where does Tonder come into all of this?”
“Yes, yes Tonder; the reason for your visit Mr. Abel, indeed. You see as early as the recorded history of the church, man has written of his exchanges with a supreme force; often through dialogue, sometimes through physical incantation. This force has always introduced itself as Tonder to man stating a purpose through trying times in extreme contact with evil. Man has always seemed to triumph over evil with Tonder’s aide, pushing it into a more submissive state but never entirely defeating the evil. Many believe that man cannot defeat evil but can only contain it until a final battle between good and evil will raise the forces of both sides; good and evil mind you, where they will battle for the ultimate reward: the reward of man.”
“Balsavoy told me that it would take mortals to fight the final battle.”
“Oh no, no, quite the contrary. Men will know nothing of the battle. The wars of man have continued throughout history and from the dawn of time. We seem to believe as humans that we see all and know all in our arrogance slating a dominion over all that we survey. The battles take place within our mind, every day, and are conducive to the decisions that we make at every given moment. You may view it as a chess game of our souls, Mr. Abel. Give evil strength and goodness will be defeated through your decisions.”
“And, Tonder comes into play how?”
“Evil is deception and deception is human. Man has always been blessed with free will from a loving God. Evil can tempt man but nothing more. Man’s free will helps him to decide on which side of the playing field he takes his stand. Evil forces; the devil if you will, does not play a fair game as history has proven. Evil walks among each of us every day. It is with us in our schools, our government, in our churches, and at our children’s daycare. It waits and it watches for flaws in our thoughts and actions until determining who are destined to be marked and who is too strong. Tonder has come to men who have proven strong enough to stand against the evil among us and has aided them in containing it. Only containing it mind you, this evil cannot die; at our hand. Tonder has given men instruction on containment through daily prayer that keeps it weakened and tolerable, but if neglected the evil strengthens and can escape to continue twisting man’s thoughts and de-sensitizing his feelings until the unacceptable becomes acceptable. Some believe that Tonder is deception; that the devil himself deceives men to follow him; to trust him as God. A de-sensitized heart is prone to deceit; and oh how he deceives. ”
“If Tonder is God, then why doesn’t Tonder just defeat the evil through man?”
“Man’s free will allows the evil to exist and alas thrive. Man could not survive without evil; it has become his way of life. As we witness daily in our schools and government with the separation of religion as it has been deemed a violation of someone rights. This scenario did not exist in my youth, Mr. Abel, but evil has gained much strength through influential people starting a slow, downward spiral of man’s morals. Subsequently, evil has grown very strong. Your friend mentioned to you that humans would fight the battle. He is correct in that they are fighting the battle and are winning a victory for evil. If man gave goodness the strength that it has given to evil, it would be a progressively more tolerable world until eventually life would be as was mentioned in the beginning of man’s existence: paradise.”
“How is the evil escaping now any different than past history? Has it never escaped containment before?”
“Evil has escaped containment in the past and has been successfully captured and weakened by Chasers such as yourself and your father and once again held by those who keep the word; such as your Balsavoy. Never before has one been given eklektos, but Tonder has promised that eklektos would be bestowed upon a single mortal in our time. You have been chosen as that mortal, Mr. Abel. To heighten your anxiety you have also been given a gift of sight by being the eklektos.”
“And could you please define this eklektos?”
“Eklektos is a blessing upon a soul protecting the person from being marked. It is Latin for ‘chosen’. This is regardless of what you may do to damn your soul, Mr. Abel.”
“Tell me why I have not learned of Tonder in church. I mean I grew up in a Catholic church and nothing was ever mentioned before.”
“Tonder is not acknowledged by the church, Mr. Abel. There are those that say man is being misled and Tonder is not the voice of God, but is instead the deception of evil. This has caused a separation within the churches many years ago and before my time. Those who choose to deem Tonder as the voice of God justify such that Tonder has protected man when confronted with evil; such is the position of the People’s Church. Also, Tonder has told man that it is indeed God and will protect him come what may. The other side argues that God would not assume a false identity as he is the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end; the great I AM. They plead that man is being guided by evil as it gains strength for the final battle; quite a lucrative argument. As each side raises their voices, the churches push the topic beneath a large rug and ask that we speak of it not. That is the very reason that young Reverend Malcolm was transferred from my teaching. My superiors received word that I had spoken to him of Tonder and immediately he was removed from my supervision. I must also add that this very monastery was built on this sight as a strategic location. Beneath these grounds are centuries old chasms that have existed beyond the written records of man. They are known to contain dormant evil that the church cannot begin to interpret. The bones of monks over the years have been buried beneath hoping to purify the ground as well as the daily prayer recited within these walls.”
Elder Lewis walked with me along the winding paths while the sun slowly began to reach beneath the horizon. I listened intently as his explanations filled in the holes of my history. The path that we continued upon lead to a distant door recessed within the earth resembling a root cellar as it was preceded by limestone steps of great mass and size. Cobwebs kissed my forehead as we descended the steps and approached the doorway.
“Mr. Abel, if what you have told me is correct than not only has the evil escaped from Balsavoy’s containment, but all of the contained evil has been freed signifying the beginning of the final battle. You must be strong in your faith and do not falter. I am relying on you, sir, as we enter this chasm below. May God bless you, Mr. Abel.”
“Wait a minute, Elder Lewis. What are you telling me? That I follow you into a cave just to see if the evil is awake? I can tell you first hand that I know it is, I looked in the eyes and it spoke to me! You’ve got to fix it yourself because I cannot go down there. I think that this whole thing is just something in my mind; maybe even a dream, I don’t know! But I do know this, after what I have been through I am ready to call it quits. You are the priest so if there is evil to deal with then you deal with it.”
“Mr. Abel, you possess nothing uncommon from that of ordinary man in your free will, but let me advise you that you also have a purpose. Choose to ignore that purpose and it will find you, sir; it will find you with a prejudice visited upon you that could make it impossible to avoid. Exercise your free will as you see that you must as clearly the choice is yours. I caution you that your decisions will not weigh lightly on those around you. Use extreme caution, Mr. Abel, not to damn those around you in order to protect your own self. Remember what we are told by Matthew: ‘The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!’ Leave if you must, Mr. Abel.”
I replied nothing to the old priest as I abruptly turned and began my way along the path leaving Elder Lewis behind. My mind was as a torment of guilt and selfishness as I became entranced by the notion of self-preservation and survival. I knew that I did not want to enter through the door without knowing what awaited me beyond it. I pondered as a child might on Christmas morning in anticipation of his gifts. I pondered this selfish notion loudly in my conscious without slowing my pace through the garden and into the meeting room where I was introduced to Elder Lewis. I pulled the mighty oak door open as it glided effortlessly upon its hinges exposing a waiting Reverend Malcolm beyond and seated in a rigid chair. He rose to greet me as if hungry to learn of my findings from Elder Lewis.
“Mr. Abel, how was your visit?”
“Reverend Malcolm, I need you to drive me home now.”
“But, Mr. Abel was Elder Lewis not Abel to help you? What about the demon and Tonder?”
“With all due respect Preacher, I am getting out of all of this. I should be home with my wife and son enjoying the evenings as I always have. You guys can fight this battle. You both seem more qualified than me. Please drive me home.”
“As you wish, but I think that you should reconsider.”
“Reverend Malcolm, you can drive me home or I will start walking, it’s up to you.”
“Of course I will drive you, Mr. Abel. I am very sorry if I have offended you.”
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