Mark had the sincere desire to serve God as a priest. He did not see himself watching his days glide to history except as ministering to God’s people. As his friend, the least I could do was help him keep an unflinching hold on this desire, caution him about movements that could endanger or make loose his hold on that desire, that dream. I believe that man’s thrown-ness into the world becomes meaningful only when he finds happiness in being. And that in turn is sought only when he is what he purposes to be. The coming-to-be of that dream was, to my thought, only that that could redeem Mark from the possibility of a life without sense. From absurdity, Camus would say.
I felt the wind read my thoughts, for a shiver ran through me as I entertained them.
Until the time when the potentiality of being a priest was already an actuality, every day would be a struggle for Mark (as it would be even as a priest). A struggle to be or not to be. Only if Mark authentically is could he lay a firm grip on the dream. Still, a struggle, true to its sense, doesn’t always yield victory. When the passions strike, they strike hard. Sometimes (or many times?), no amount of determination could shame them away.
His question shook me from my thoughts. “Ken, do you believe I can be strong?”
With a smile, I answered reassuringly, “I believe you can, Mark. And if I believe so, you must believe you can. Strength and courage are a matter of the will. Will to be strong. Will to be courageous.”
“Thanks.” His smile was gratefully sincere.
I just got to hope my assurance would do him good.
For the moments that followed, we watched the stars reclaim their spaces in the firmament. The moon shone again with a romantic brightness. And I wondered whether the sun could rise, too, in the west.
My wonderings were disturbed by the sounds of hunger down my belly. My watch said, it’s way past ten. Just one more imagining before being famished.
“Bro, how about getting some dinner?”
“I’d like that.”
“Let’s go.”
The waves came running after us. (February, 1998)
14 years ago
1 comment:
Your Mark is very alive in so many people, in so many ways. I know how the pain he has to hurdle through stings. It is like dying every second and comes back to life again going through the same passion and sorrow.
Congartulations! This piece of litearture deserves an applause. Its characters are so alive. it tells me I am not alone; I therefore should'nt be very desperate over my own passions. . .
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