The Saint
“What’s lust, then?”
“You ask excellent questions. These are the questions of a young woman who is not of the lip-biting variety.”
“I’m going to bite my lip out of spite from now on.”
“That is exactly what I knew you would do. Would you like me to answer your question?”
“About lust? Yeah.”
“Let’s go into the sanctuary. You can sit down there.”
“I don’t mind standing.”
“You’re wearing combat boots.”
“They’re comfy.”
“Where does a young lady in Wakefield, Connecticut, purchase combat boots?”
“Goodwill,” she said.
“You’re wearing Goodwill combat boots?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations, Eleanor. Your footwear has achieved irony.”
Before she could ask him what he meant by that, he stepped past her. She spun around on the heel of her Goodwill combat boots and followed Søren to the sanctuary. He opened the doors, putting the stoppers down to keep them open.
“You’re really into this ‘avoiding any appearance of evil’ thing, aren’t you?”
“I am. I wouldn’t want either of us accused of anything we hadn’t done.”
“What if it’s something we have done?” she asked, kneeling backward on one of the pews to face Søren, who was seated in the row behind her.
“That’s an entirely different situation. But we’re talking lust.”
“I’m lusting for your answer.”
“You aren’t, actually.” He gave her a steady gaze with his unyielding eyes. “You’re simply desiring my answer. Lust is overwhelming or uncontrollable desire that leads to sin. A man might desire another man’s wife. It happens. The question he has to ask himself is, given the chance, will he act on his desires? Will he try to seduce her the first time they’re alone? Will he attack her? If she came on to him, would he give in? Or would he honor her marital state, politely tell her no and suggest she and her husband go to counseling?”
“So it’s a matter of how much you want something that’s the difference between love and lust?”
“Partly. But it’s not only a question of degree of desire, but what you do with it. If I were to find a young woman stunningly attractive, intriguing and intelligent, then I will not have committed a sin. I could take that to my confessor, and he’d laugh and tell me not to come back and see him until I had something worth confessing. Now, if I acted on my attraction to this young woman, then we might have a problem.”
“Or a really good evening.” She grinned at him. Søren cocked an eyebrow at her. “I mean, a really sinful evening.”
“Better.”
“So it’s okay to desire someone as long as you don’t act on it?”
“There are many situations when acting on one’s desires is not a sin.”
“Married couples, right? They can have sex all they want.”
“Married couples can certainly engage in sexual acts with each other.”
“And …” Eleanor waved her hand, hoping for more to the answer. “Nobody else? The rest of us are screwed? I mean, not screwed?”
“I believe that is a question for your own conscience. I’m not dogmatic when it comes to sexual behavior in the modern world. The church can proscribe anything and everything it wants to, but the church is still made up entirely of human beings. Heaping rule upon rule on our congregations isn’t going to make anyone holier. It’ll serve only to add to the guilt that is endemic in our churches.”
Eleanor pointed at the sanctuary doors.
“You said five minutes ago you were imposing new rules on the church.”
“The rules are not for the church. They are for me. If I were to allow you and I to be alone together in my office, I would be breaking the rule, not you.”
“So what are all these rules?”
“Nothing burdensome, I promise. Actually, you might be able to help me with one of them. I have a feeling it’s not going to go over well.”
“Oh, no. What are you doing?” Eleanor knew her church well enough to know any sort of big change would be met with fear, anger and confusion. She couldn’t wait to see everyone freak out.
“The rectory. I’m closing it off to parishioners.”
“Whoa. Wait. You’re closing the rectory?”
“No church members will be allowed inside it.”
Eleanor’s eyes nearly fell out of her skull.
“I take it from you look of wild-eyed horror that such a declaration will ruffle a few feathers?” Søren asked, a slight smile on his lips. He didn’t seem the least bothered by the prospect.
“If you turned the church into a McDonald’s, that would ruffle some feathers. This is going to ruffle the whole f**king turkey. Pardon my French.”
“Pardoned.”
“Why close the rectory? The church uses it all the time.”
“This church has a sanctuary, a chapel and a large annex. There’s no need to use the rectory for church services. I, however, will need a home. I’ll no more hear confessions in my bedroom than I’ll take a bath in my office.”
He said the words without a hint of flirtatiousness, but that didn’t stop Eleanor from mentally conjuring the image of Søren lying wet and naked in a bathtub. Or was it laying wet and naked?