In the Footsteps of Giovanni the Hermit
The dead man returns
“So, I see you have survived the first waterfall,” a voice said to Giovanni. The Hermit quickly whirled about trying to find its source. At a distance, he could distinguish the dead man re-materializing from out of the shadows. As Giovanni looked past him, he could see the village of Arroyo Seco bathed in blue light.
“Many men might not have survived the first glimpse into their very souls,” the dead man continued.
“I am a little surprised that I have,” replied the Hermit. “You see, ever since I was little I was taught that we die because we sin. In Latin we were told, ‘Stipendium peccati, mors est.’ [The wage of sin is death].”
“How then,” paused the dead man, “do you account for the idea that the Christ, whom you follow, could be allowed to die? If he was truly sinless, why did he die?”
“I was told by the nuns in our school that only the human nature part of him died, but that the divine nature of him did not die,” the Hermit replied.
“That is too easy of an answer don’t think?” taunted the dead man. “It is a bit precious.”
The holy Hermit hung his head without saying anything. He knew all answers came not so much from speaking but from listening. People were so busy talking that they had forgotten how to listen. He listened for the dead man to lead him in a new direction.
“Come,” said the dead man, “follow me.” He led Giovanni the Hermit toward the right of the first waterfall, up a steep incline that passed between the rockface of the mountain and some scraggly pines. Even though the Hermit was used to walking he knew that he had to pause from time to time to catch his breath. The dead man would wait patiently. Once he even smiled down at him and said, “There are certain advantages to being dead.”
He continued to lead Giovanni around the curve of the trail, turning to the left, past an outcropping of rock. He stooped low as he passed between two huge rocks, one resting upon the next. Then he climbed a narrow walkway and continued to veer left. He was standing at the top of the first waterfall, ready to proceed to the next.
“Now, you are still in doubt as to why the Christ, whose teaching you follow, had to die,” said the dead man with not so much as a glance at Giovanni. “Do you remember the story of how, when the people of Israel sinned in the desert as they were being led by Moses, God sent saraph serpents to bite them so that many of them died? Did it ever strike you as odd that the cure God recommended to Moses was to make a serpent out of metal and to mount it high on a bronze pole? Now, according to the instruction, whosoever looked at the saraph serpent on the pole would not die, but would live.”
“But did not the early church,” said Giovanni slowly, “teach that sin came into the world through the wiles of a serpent in the Garden of Eden?”
“Yes,” came the answer. “Just as the author of sin had to be held up by Moses in the desert, even so the Christ had to be held up on a cross. It was because he took on the consequence of sin, which in the second creation, after the Great Flood, was marked by suffering and death. The Christ took on the very consequence of sin, which included humiliation, torture, suffering and dying in order to redeem mankind. That was the only way in which man could be healed.”
“So you are telling me that sin is necessary?” the Hermit asked of the dead man.
“Recognition of some sin is necessary because it is part of what defines your human nature. Remember the holy Easter rites that say: ‘Oh necessary sin of Adam!’ For without his sin, there would have been no need for redemption.”
The holy Hermit pondered the response in the silence of his heart. He was approaching the second waterfall. He could already hear its water striking the bottom of the cave with a low “re” tone. Giovanni could see that the space behind the second waterfall was divided into two caves, one on the right and one on the left. He found it to be very ironic, since he had been discussing the dual nature of sin and man with the dead man.
Now he was now ready to face a second encounter with himself.