Material Boy

I once heard the story of a young man who wished to join a closed religious order. He was instructed by the Father Abbot to spend some time in solitude, living an aesthetic life, so as to be sure of his vocation.

The Abbot gave him directions to a small hut on the riverbank where he could dwell, as no man laid claim to it.

Girded with only a loin cloth, the young man cheerfully embarked upon his journey of faith.

Each day would begin with prayer, and most of his hours were spent quietly before God in worship. He would fast for much of the week, drawing water from the river as he needed it and relying on the generosity of passers-by for some bread.

The young man would wash his loin cloth every day, for cleanliness was next to godliness, and it was quick to dry during the hot nights.

One day, in the heat of summer, the young man awoke to find that his loin cloth had been consumed by mice. Though he was not ashamed of his nakedness in the way that Adam was, the young man did not want to embarrass passers-by. Besides, it was more hygienic to wear some clothes. That day, he fashioned some leaves together and walked into the village to beg for a piece of material that he could use as a loin cloth.

The first dwelling he came to was home to an old spinster, who became frightened at the sight of the young man, clad in ivy.

The second dwelling offered him food and shelter, but they could not spare any cloth.

‘But,’ they said, ‘the hut at the far end of the village is the home of a seamstress, and she will help you.’

That night, the young man took off his new cloth and washed it in the river, giving thanks to God for the goodness in the hearts of the people who had helped him that day. He also gave thanks for the old woman he had first chanced upon, and prayed that God might show him humility should they meet again, and that He would look with favour upon her lonely soul.

The following morning, he arose with a fresh sense of wonder at the Beauty of Created Nature. He got to the floor and began to perform a series of press-ups as he whispered his gratitude to God for the day that he had been given, and for his health.

As he was performing his exercise, he glanced to his right, where he had carefully laid out the new loin cloth. It, too, had been devoured by rodents.

I can’t go again into the village, the young man thought, it is not right to live off other people’s generosity.

That day, he did not dress. He prayed.

During the night, he had a vision of Christ on the Cross. In the dream, the seamstress from the village was trying to hoist a piece of cloth on top of a stick to cover Jesus’ body, for He had been hung naked.

When he awoke, the young man understood that the seamstress was not being generous to him, but to God, for, ‘what you do for the least of these, you do for Me’. Recalling His words with renewed joy, the young man ran to the seamstress’ door and knocked.

That night, the mice visited the young man again.

It is no good, he thought, if I am blessed with another gift, I shall have to keep from washing it, or wear it wet.

As he was repenting his ingratitude, the young man heard a faint cry. It is a baby! he thought, and ran out of the hut to find where the sound had come from. For a while he could hear nothing, but as he trained his ears, he could hear a high-pitched call of distress. Wasting no time, the young man ran into the river and waded across to the opposite bank (for it was not deep), where he found, to his amazement, a young cat, who seemed stuck in a tree.

The young man was not particularly good at climbing trees and he found the bark rough against his skin but, steadily enough, he made progress.

After he had fallen for what seemed the hundredth time, the young man decided that he needed to approach the situation from a different angle. The tree was not old and did not have a wide trunk. There were no knots that might assist his ascent, and the branch that he had been using to give him access to the rest of the tree was not in the best position. If he had something to stand on, he might be able to gain some purchase. Looking around him, the young man saw a rock embedded in the riverbank. With the use of some bits of branch for leverage, he was able to prize the rock out and lay it flat at the base of the tree.

It was enough.

Soon, he found his arms had reached a plateau upon which he could hoist the rest of his body. Calling for the strength of Samson, he leaned his weight on his wrists and swung himself up. The cat was only a cubit away from him. He looked into its eyes and blinked, slowly. The cat swished its tabby tail and pushed its head forward.

Speaking to it softly, although not in the way that one talked to babies and animals whom one does not think of as sentient, the young man reached his hand forward and lifted it from its perch.

The descent was rather more difficult than he had anticipated, but at least he would only have to attempt it once, for if he fell out of the tree, he would still be where he wanted.

As it was, he did not slip; he only slightly grazed his foot on the rock and, so, carrying the cat on his shoulder, he waded back across the river to his hut.

The cat, seeming grateful, did not run off but instead proceeded to rub against the young man’s skin. It was then that it seemed to him that God had sent him the cat to protect his cloth from mice – for it was the natural order of things that cats hunted animals smaller than themselves.

First, though, he said to the cat, we should check in the village to see if you belong to anybody. For the young man did not want to cause anybody distress.

Having fashioned some covering for himself, he took the cat in his arms and walked into the village.

He knocked on the old spinster’s door first, and although she was not frightened to see him, she could not tell him to whom the cat belonged. She did, however, give him a garment which she had been making since she first saw the young man.

‘I was afraid, the first time I saw you,’ she explained. ‘Then God spoke to me concerning you and so I began to make you this cloth in case your need brought you back.’ The young man was overwhelmed by her kindness and he humbly accepted her gift.

After finding a discreet spot in which to change, the young man, now properly clad, went throughout the village, asking everyone about the cat.

Finally, when it seemed that there was none to claim the animal, the young man decided to take her (for it was a she cat) home with him.

‘I shall name you Felix,’ he said to the cat, ‘because you have brought me happiness today’.

That night no mouse took his cloth.

After some days, the young man began to be concerned that Felix was not being properly nourished.

He sought advice in the village and was told that the animal needed to drink milk and eat meat.

‘But I have no cow, nor animals,’ he explained.

Now it so happened that there was a farmer whose heifer had recently given birth.

‘I will give you my heifer,’ he said to the young man, ‘if you till my land for some hours each day, until the debt is paid.’ The young man agreed, although he was sorry that he would not be able to concentrate entirely on prayer. Still, he thought, Felix is dependent on me and I must provide for her.

As the weeks went by, the young man realised that he could churn the excess milk the cow produced into butter and sell it in the village. With the money, he bought a hen to lay eggs to sell, so that he could buy some more animals so that his cat could eat, and he would not have to continue working for another man. This was not because he was proud, but because he regretted having to devote all of his time to working the land, when he wanted to pray and read the Bible.

The young man did not really understand how it happened, but as the months went by, although he had never thought of it as such, his business enterprise became successful: The land by the river bank was fertile and the young man planted seeds so that he could feed the hens and the other animals that he kept. He bought a virile bull from good stock, and bred him with his heifer. Their calves were plentiful and produced more milk for butter and cheese, while the males sold easily.

Before he knew it, the young man had to employ others to work the land and to gather in the harvest. It seemed that God had blessed the young man with great abundance and he gradually grew in wealth.

Over time, the young man used his wealth to rebuild the village. He made houses from brick and mortar and built a road. The village prospered and others came to live in it. Still, the man prayed and read his Bible. He read it out loud to the others in the village and they worked together to build a church.

One night, after many years, when the man was no longer so young, and was stroking the cat, Felix, who was nearly blind and had not caught mice for many years, there was a knock at the door.

The young man opened it and was surprised to see the Abbot standing before him.

‘My son,’ he said, ‘what happened?’

The man invited the monk to join him for dinner and to spend the night. In the morning, he took him on a tour of the village and told him his story. The old monk listened with wonder and understanding.

‘You have departed from the vocation you were so sure God had called you to, my son,’ he said, kindly. ‘Why is that?’

The young man looked at the monk. He did not feel condemned, for he had used his wealth to bring good to others; yet, he felt a strange sorrow in his heart.

‘I cannot say,’ he said, honestly. ‘Except,’ he faltered, ‘it was the only way to keep my loin cloth’.