Benny Terry
A weight lifted from me.No, it was more than a weight.A metaphysical torture instrument had come undone, something I now realized I had endured for years.The spikes had come from so many directions, including Dyson’s proclamation, It’s just a big ball of gas. It was a feeling that brought back a similar feeling when Matt Fox spoke of Hildegard’s art as revelatory.Both Matt’s and Thomas’s words opened up a passageway.Perhaps this was what Dolores was saying concerning Plato’s cave.That it was possible to escape.All I wanted was to stay here in the light that washes over anyone who steps out of the cave.To set up a tent, like Peter the apostle.My fear that I would be pulled back inside the cave forced me to ask a deeper question.But there is a difference, I said.It’s a question of intention.Humans intend to be generous.When we got to the door I noticed I’d left the back window down.I asked Thomas for the car keys.The groceries, I said.He broke into a smile, tossed his hand at me.The First Basic Law of the UniverseThe tiny store had two banked glass display cases with trays of glazed pastries.The baker, rail thin, severe face, her bald head signaling ongoing chemo treatments, worked the cash register.As she handed over the white paper bag to the only other customer in the place, she turned to us.Father Thomas!Keisha!She edged between the two cases and threw her arms around him.When she broke off the hug, she saw she’d imprinted Thomas with flour.Even though Thomas laughed and told her not to bother, she employed a white cooking cloth to brush him off, ignoring his protests as she would a child’s.When Thomas said I was from Washington State, her eyes grew wide.Before I could relate my tiny connection to the SuperSonics, her eyes went wide again and she disappeared into the back.She returned with a sheet of paper held above her head, predicting that Thomas would be surprised.We were instructed to sit down, as the pies were not quite done.He had met Keisha at the funeral Mass for her husband several years back.Thomas was presiding at the Mass only because his colleague, Neal Sharkey, had fallen sick at the last moment and couldn’t find a replacement.Thomas himself rarely, if ever, performed the clerical services of the priesthood.He explained that he had entered the monastery in order to brood on the nature of the world, and the only two places he knew where this could happen without interruptions were the monastery and the penitentiary.As a monk, he could devote himself full time to study.His decision to become a priest had less to do with performing religious rites than with the opportunity to ponder the meaning of existence.Though he was unpracticed at giving sermons at funeral Masses, Thomas figured he must have said something that mattered because several weeks later Keisha came to him with a request.Would he speak to her son?Would he bring Cornell back to his happy self?So in addition to being the chair of the History of Religions program at Fordham University, Thomas was now a therapist for a teenager.Cornell visited every Saturday, pedaling over to the Riverdale Center on his bike.Having no professional training in counseling, Thomas proceeded with Cornell as if he were a graduate student, inviting him to his various discussion groups on history or cosmology or spirituality.In a matter of weeks, by dint of natural ability and hard work, Cornell blended in.This is where Carl Sagan entered the story.As was his habit, Cornell expressed his frustration with being stuck working at a bakery.He wanted to get away, to go where the really important things were happening.Thomas told him that without question he would soon be striding forth into the world, but if Cornell couldn’t see the important things taking place in the bakery, he would struggle seeing them anywhere.An idea came to Thomas.He recommended Cornell watch the Cosmos series, that he should try to understand what Sagan meant by proclaiming, If you want to create an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.Cornell did watch the series.He started to see his world in a new way.On multiple occasions, Keisha had offered to pay Thomas for working with Cornell, but Thomas would have none of it.She eventually came up with the idea of supplying apple pies for his symposia.And thus the tradition began, and as much as I appreciated it, I was also dismayed by the story’s culmination in Carl Sagan’s television series.I couldn’t have a conversation about the universe without his name coming up.Once again, all roads led to Sagan.I was simultaneously attracted and repelled by the shows and gave up watching after three or four episodes.But turning off the television was not enough to block his presence.Students in my classes laughed if I said the word billions.In our seminar in mathematical cosmology, small criticisms of his science cropped up.As he put it, I too learned by age five I was the center of the universe.
