It was something he had forgotten, though he had known. “She is cutting herself,” his sister had told him ages ago, and now his niece stood before him, arms wormed with the healed remains of deep gashes. She did not do this anymore, and at the time he knew she would eventually stop, but it was another thing to see her pain slit across her arms despite the happy face.
He had not seen his family–his sister and nieces– in four years. His sister looked the same, one niece had grown taller, and the other still looked and laughed as she did as a child, save for the cuts that contradicted her otherwise content appearance.
“What have you been up to?” his sister asked, while taking note that he seemed to be the same old monk he had always been.
“Nothing much really. I am working, and reading, and trying to make good, but mostly in my mind.”
He made little use of his calling or powers. He had suspicions that he might be teacher, or a deep reader of the mind and heart, or able to heal with the touch of a word, but he was not sure.
Once his father told him a story, and a very short one:
There was a man who longed to do good and live a life of purpose. He remained vigilant, so as to avoid evil, and asked God daily what he should do.
He had a friend, a very learned friend, who said, “Don’t move, lest you fall into sin.”
And that is what happened. The man would not veer too far to the left, for surely Satan was trying to tempt him. Then, he would not veer too far to the right, lest he again fall into Satan’s hands. Everywhere was the devil’s handywork and he was sure that one wrong move would lead him into the ditch.
Before doing anything, he debated the issue, trying to discern if he was being led by God, or Satan, and whether it was better to go to the market today, or go to the market tomorrow, or go not at all.
Much time passed without movement, with the man living a very confined life. He grew old before old age arrived. Finally one day there was a knock at the door. It was his wise friend.
“What brings you here in this early part of the day?”
“I am come to bind you, and carry you away, ” said the friend.
“What say you?” said the man, with a laugh.
“My name is Satan, and I have come to take you away.”
“Ha. That is funny. Indeed you can be an evil one, come on in friend and breakfast with me today.”
They sat down for a meal of pork, wine, cheese and bread. During a moment of jovial shouting, the man got a piece of meat lodged in his throat.
“Help me, ” he said to his wise friend.
“Who am I, God, that I would help you? I care not whether you go left nor right, so long as you do nothing at all, and are of no use, ” the friend answered.
The monk thought about this story often. It would seem that the good left undone was just as important as the good done, and while Satan might still lose your soul to heaven, he could, at least, destroy the fruit your life might yield. He might get to you by making you do something, or nothing, and the road you take to flee the City of Temptation might be temptation itself, prostrated quietly at your feet.
His father told him this right before he died, so it was hard to forget, though, in practical application, he of course forgot it daily. It was usually his sister who tended to remind him of the passing and lapse of time. He watched now as she fluttered over his niece, tugging at the girl’s clothes, critiquing the colors and her weight gain.
