The Fruit


(A Silent Dialogue in Two Pages)




 “You are mistaken, sir. I was only 20 then, perhaps 33. I was chosen, and knowledgeable… but naïve. The first two descriptives still apply; the latter and third descriptive does not. I am no longer naïve.


 “Yet that which is to be accomplished will not be done because of knowledge and a lack of naïveté. It will be done because the One Who Chooses --- the Triune Catholic God --- inexorably and sovereignly ordains that it be done. The instrument He chooses… weak and brittle? Malformed and ugly? Ineffectual and unreliable? All the better to demonstrate His Power and His Mercy.


 “I cannot wait to see it done!


 “Notwithstanding, He has made someone that is not so.


“This someone is His Son’s Mother. She is His Perfect Creature. She is the Ever-Immaculate and without sin. She never fails. She is the Virgin above all virgins, the Queen above all queens, Star of the Sea, a Lady --- the Lady! --- Who is the Template of all women and all that is feminine, thrice-vowed ark in the Temple’s Holy of Holies.


 “I am merely mud and slime.


 “The Almighty Creator has willed that this thing be done.


 “She is the crusher, the serpent the crushed. I am the crush-between. I count myself fortunate to be but the sole of Her Foot. Inasmuch as I share in Her crushing, I rejoice in accomplishing that for which I yearn. Inasmuch as I am crushed along with the crushed, I weep for my sins and the rebellions the snake has caused. But I rejoice to see him crushed and I rejoice to die for my sins. May I die a thousand painful deaths for what I’ve done --- only let him be brought down into dust, his venomous skull shattered and effaced.


 “Yet did I say a thousand deaths?


 “Yes, nonetheless, solely that life may follow upon this death, like a seed sown in the soil. When dirt is watered, it is cleansed and washed, with new life springing up where death alone existed before. And the seed, though dead, gives birth to new life.


 “Dust is fruitless and dry.


 “I have said that I would rather be the least in the Kingdom of Heaven than the greatest in the Domain of Hell. I have also said (if only in my prayers) that I would rather be greater in Heaven than lesser, and that Heaven rejoices in such ambition. Let me then proclaim that I am the least of all human beings on earth… and truly believe it.


 “For if I do not believe it, why die the death?


 “Why not grasp the forbidden fruit and be as God?


 “Why not follow our first mother and steal the thing denied?


 “Mother of all living become mother of all dead! Ultimately redeemed, yes, but why not imitate her badness and eschew her eventual goodness? Why not follow her into revolution and be my own ruler? Dead, true. Yet in death, unconquered… no?


 “Why not rule in Hell and not be ruled in Heaven?


 “Ah, but therein is the lie.


 “For in Hell I would never rule, simply be ruled.


 “And a bitter rule it should be, torment neverending, with waterless tears.


 “Whereas in Heaven, in being ruled, I rule. And a sweet rule it shall be, endlessly happy. I will never again weep or suffer or die or be in darkness or wander lost or ache in ignorance or drown in the flood of irrational passions or be afraid.


 “Wherefore I choose Heaven.


 “I will die the death, willingly, according to His Will.


 “But if I die the death, I die spitting & spewing the forbidden fruit out of my mouth and I die with God at my side, in Him. I die at His right hand, rebuking the bad thief and begging God to remember me. And I die with the Promise of Paradise in my ears.


 “You see, sir, I would rather die with God’s bitter but Blessed Fruit placed in my mouth, with Him and the Bread of Life in my grasp, than sweet yet poisonous fruit upon my tongue, against Him and the Dust of Death my only fate, stubborn hands weakening finger by finger till they lose their grasp and I plummet like a smoking, screaming, burning corpse --- putrid and reeking, worms crawling in my rancid flesh, oozing the fetid stench of hatred, despising what I am, loathing Who I look like, a werewolf beast howling with lucid insanity & disemboweled agony, frothing, cursing  --- into the abyss.


 “I am chosen, sir, and bitter is the taste in my mouth.


 “May that sweet bitterness wipe away every trace of bitter sweetness from my tongue, the poison finally expunged and I finally released --- along with all creation --- from the heavy, arduous & god-like burden under which we mere mortal creatures groan!


 “I will die, sir… yet on God’s terms, not my own.


 “Freely I take His terms as my own.


 “You see then:


 “I am no longer naïve.”


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