‘I was baptised Matthew, but when I came here there was already a Matthew, so they told me to pick a saint. I wasn’t too good on the old saints, but I said, What about Kevin? I didn’t tell Father Jerome, but it was for Kevin Sheedy. You know, the footballer? He wasn’t the best player ever, but he was a determined bugger. A good role model for me. I haven’t found it easy, being a monk.’ He took a large gulp of beer. ‘Good old Sheeds. I remember one game against Collingwood—we were three points down. There were seconds left on the clock. Well, Sheeds had been winded only minutes before, but he just snatches the ball out of the air and wham! Straight through the goalposts just as the siren goes.’ Kevin’s eyes shone with admiration. ‘Lucky for me,’ he added as an afterthought, ‘it turned out there really was a Saint Kevin.’
‘What made you come here?’ Finn was puzzled. The man seemed to lack the spiritual dimension that was evident, to one degree or another, in all the other monks he had met.
‘Funny you should ask. I’m an electrician by trade. Had my own little business and everything. I went to church but was never particularly religious. In some ways I came here kicking and screaming, but he got me in the end.’
‘Father Jerome?’
‘No—God.’ Kevin was suddenly shy. ‘I had a calling, you see, and in the end I knew I had to come.’
‘I don’t think I believe in God.’
‘Doesn’t matter, mate. As long as He believes in you.’
Finn’s talks with Boniface were different, but imbued with the same strong faith. He spent an hour a day, four days a week, with the old man, usually sitting in the little summerhouse in the front garden. Boniface spoke slowly, as though weighing the value of each word.
‘God has already forgiven you,’ he said once. ‘Your task now is to learn to forgive yourself.’
‘That’s easier said than done.’
The monk remained silent.
‘I mean, how can I do that? Can’t you help me?’
‘I wish I could, Finbar, but we all have to find redemption in our own way. Sit with me a while. The answer is in your heart and you will only hear the voice of your heart when all other thoughts are silent.’
Finn had never met anyone like Boniface and tried to define his unique qualities. Was he an ascetic? Not really. Asceticism suggested a remoteness, a severity, that was the antithesis of the genuine human warmth complementing the spirituality that lit Boniface from within. On that first night, he had humbly served Finn soup and made up his bed before bestowing a blessing. He could sit with Finn in a silence that was more powerful than words, but when he spoke, his message was simple and compassionate. The more time he spent with Boniface, the more Finn sensed that his humanity and spirituality were one.
He offered these thoughts to Kevin one day when they were working in the garden. ‘Father Boniface is amazing. He hardly says anything when I meet with him, but I always come away—refreshed. What’s his secret, do you think?’
Kevin leaned on his shovel. ‘Boniface is unique,’ he said. ‘A saint, in his own way. He’s managed to cut through all the palaver, all the crap, and see things with the eyes of faith. Look here.’ Kevin indicated the garden. ‘What do you see here, Finn?’
‘A vegie patch.’
‘Yes?’
‘Beans, carrots, zucchini, tomatoes . . .’
‘Yes?’
Finn was at a loss. ‘An organic vegie patch?’
‘All that. But do you know what Boniface sees here?’
Finn shook his head.
‘He sees this garden as a little world with its insects, worms, plants, the earth itself—all part of God’s creation. I’ll never forget the first time we met. There he was, one of the most senior and learned priests in the Order and here was I, a nobody, with dirty hands and muddy boots, smelling of manure. Do you know what he said? How blessed you are to be young and strong, Brother Kevin, doing the work of God in your garden. How wonderful to be an instrument of His creation.’ Kevin thrust his spade into the earth once more. ‘What I’m trying to say, Finn, is that Boniface is the most Christ-like person I’ve ever met. Or am ever likely to meet.’
Finn looked at the garden again and continued to dig with a new reverence.
He had found some peace in his time at the monastery, but the silent reproach of Amber-Lee’s