The Saint

“I never would have guessed.”

Søren ignored her.

“And second, of all the saints, he alone has a verifiable criminal record.”

“He does?”

“He does. As a young man, Saint Ignatius, then still Iñigo Lopez de Oñaz y Loyola, was arrested for brawling. A street fight apparently. He had a hot temper, a sword and wasn’t afraid to use either.”

“Sounds so punk.”

“That would be one word for it. He was arrested and convicted. So you and the founder of my order have two things in common now. You both have police records. And you both received a second chance to do God’s will.”

Eleanor said nothing as Søren tucked the saint medal back under his collar.

“You know, no offense, but I’m not sure I believe in God.”

Søren shrugged. “Least of our worries. His existence does not depend on your belief.”

“Good news for Him, then.”

“Quite. Now let’s talk about the windows.” He swept his arm to indicate the stained-glass windows that lined each side of the sanctuary.

“Are the windows part of the Spiritual Exercises?”

“Yes and no. I’m interested right now in getting a sense of what parts of the Bible speak to you. Saint Ignatius believed images are powerful tools that lead us to discover what God intends for us.”

“You think God cares about what we want to do?”

“Of course. Desire is the most compelling of all human emotions. Desire prompts human beings to the heights of glory and drags us into the depths of Hell. Out of desire for Helen, Menelaus launched a thousand ships to win her back in a deadly war. Out of desire to save His people, Christ allowed Himself to be crucified. Desire is a God-given gift. Like any gift, we should use it to honor Him.”

“Desire is from God?”

“It is. Like any tool, it can be used for good or for evil. We’ll try to use your desire for good. Which leads me back to the question—of all these images in the windows, do any of them speak to you? And by that I mean, do any of them touch your heart or stir emotions or desires? Think about it. Study the windows. Take your time and—”

“That one.” Eleanor didn’t even have to look at the window. Without even taking her eyes off Søren she pointed.

Søren looked at the window she’d indicated and then back at her.

“Are you sure of that?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s always been my favorite. I sit in the pew beneath it every time I come to church.”

Søren walked to the window and stared up at it. Eleanor stood next to him.

“It’s the story from Luke, right?” Eleanor asked. She’d looked up this story after she’d fallen in love with the window.

“Yes, Luke chapter seven. Christ was invited to dinner at the home of a Pharisee. A woman in the town who all knew to be a sinner came to Jesus and knelt at his feet. She anointed him with expensive oils. She bathed his feet with her tears, she dried them with her hair. An act of utter humility on her part. Humility and submission.”

“It’s so pretty,” Eleanor whispered, not knowing quite why she felt the need to lower her voice. Something about this window always made her feel reverent. The woman was draped in a purple robe, Christ a red one. The sinful woman, kneeling before Jesus, focuses only on Christ’s bare feet as she washes them. Two men sitting behind Jesus glare but Jesus looks at nothing and no one but the woman. “She looks so peaceful. You don’t think she’d be peaceful, right? I mean, she’s in public crying and sitting at this man’s feet while other people talk about her. I remember reading that the Pharisee guy told Jesus she was a sinner. And Jesus told him off. I don’t think she gives a f**k what that Pharisee said about her. Why should she care? Jesus was letting her wash his feet. I think that’s why she was crying. She was happy to be so close to him.”

“There’s a tradition in the church,” Søren began, his voice also low and reverent, “that it was Mary Magdalene who washed his feet with tears and dried his feet with her hair.”

“The prostitute?”

“She may not have been. The Bible doesn’t say, but church tradition has perpetuated that story.”

“I hope she was a prostitute.”

“Do you?” Søren sounded intrigued by her comment.

“It means more if she was a prostitute. I mean, this is Jesus, the guy who never committed any sins. He’s never even had sex, right?”

“There is no evidence he ever married so no, following Jewish law he would have been chaste, a virgin most likely, although he may have married young and been widowed. There’s little to no evidence of that, but it would account for why no one made any mention of his being unmarried, which in that day and age would have been considered highly bizarre for a Jewish man.”

“Jesus a widower?” Eleanor had never even considered the possibility.

“It’s one theory. Far more likely is that the miraculous circumstances of his birth led him to believe he would be called to perform a special mission for God. He remained unmarried for the same reason a soldier being sent into battle would remain unmarried. He knew one day he wouldn’t be coming home.”

“So Jesus was a virgin.”

“That would be my guess.”

“Poor guy.”

“There are far worse things in life than living without sex.”