Father Vincent and the Startled Monk

Brother Hamish was the Abbey’s steward, which gave him oversight of all the Abbey’s stores. A most unfortunate choice, thought Father Vincent, who was an astute judge of character. He couldn’t imagine what the Abbot had been thinking. Brother Hamish liked to tipple. Not from the Abbey’s stores, of course, he told himself. As each batch of ale was brewed, Brother Hamish sampled some “for the good of the Abbey,” and stored some in bottles for quality control, or as it was known back then, to make sure it was “sound,” or did not go bad after bottling. All useful things to know, of course, but Brother Hamish set aside more than was strictly necessary.

It was not known by the monks, but Brother Hamish had two besetting sins: gluttony and thievery. This troubled his conscience, but apparently not enough, for he could be seen in the cellar, the refectory, and the cloister with a perpetual smile on his face. The other monks all thought he surely must be a saint

When they met in the cloister, Brother Hamish smiled and bowed to Father Vincent, whose normally serene face grew severe. He even frowned. Neither spoke, as was the rule.

“No one should be that happy,” Father Vincent. thought. “He must be hiding something.”

In due course, Father Vincent died of an infected leg wound that poultices could not heal. Dona eus requiem.

All Saints Day was to be here tomorrow, and Brother Hamish’s conscience was troubling him. He couldn’t receive communion without first confessing his sins, something he had been avoiding of late. He had been imbibing more frequently, too.

Worst of all, he had begun having dreams of Father Vincent visiting him in his cell . “Oh Oh Oh, if you only knew!” Father Vincent would whisper, “The pains I feel…” and then he would vanish.

“He’s in Hell? I would have thought Purgatory!” Brother Hamish mulled it over once again while getting ready for his nightly perambulation. “One last trip to finish a bottle.”

He was gently easing open the door to his cell, when to his horror he saw the ghost of Father Vincent standing there, glowing a ghostly green. Brother Hamish hastily shut the door, but the ghost came right through it. Brother Hamish gave a little squeak, pulled his cowl over his bowed head, and fingered his rosary beads nervously.

After a few minutes, when nothing happened, he ventured a peek from his cowl, only to discover that Father Vincent was inches from his face and staring right at him, with a look of agonizing pain. To have a specter face to face was a horror Brother Hamish had never imagined, so he said the first thing that popped into his head. “The Lord be with you…” His voice trailed off as he realized what he had said.

“Oh I do hope so,” said Father Vincent, who was still green around the edges, but had no sign of sulfurous fumes.

Maybe things have eased up down there? thought Brother Hamish. He tried one of his smiles.

“Brother Hamish, I suffer terribly. I ask you to please pray for me. I thought badly of you in the past life, and I repent of it now. Please pray for me, and I beg your pardon.”

“Oh dear! If bad thoughts put you in purgatory, then I am in serious trouble!” Brother Hamish quavered. “Please pray for me, Father Vincent, and I will pray for you every Mass! I am most assuredly more in need of prayers than you!” He fell down on his knees

Father Vincent smiled. “That is why I was allowed to come to you.”