Forty days and forty nights, the monk camped in a remote mountain retreat in the Italian Dolomites. The ancient cabin was built by hunters centuries earlier. It had no electricity. There was a small wood burning stove added to one end of the cabin in the twentieth century at the same time basic plumbing was added. The water was drawn with a cast iron hand pump anchored on one end of a long white-enamel sink. The waste from the sink and the toilet in the corner went to a tank buried downhill from the cabin.
The first time the monk had been on retreat in this location, he spent most of his time worrying about whether or not the water he pumped in the sink was contaminated by the sewer that leached from the tank. After that short three-day break, the manager of the property explained that the fresh water was completely separate from the area where the sewage was stored and pumped out periodically. Besides, the manager explained, they tested the water regularly. No one was going to get sick at this cabin.
Years passed before the monk was given permission to retreat, like Christ had, for an extended period of meditation, contemplation and scriptural study. He prepared by packing a Bible and biographies of his favorite saints, and just enough canned and dry goods to provide one meal each day. He planned to fast, but was realized that planning for one daily meal would be better than ending his retreat to seek food elsewhere. He also didn’t want to put himself in the position of needing to kill an animal for a meal.
While packing his supplies, Pope Francis was discharged from the hospital and returned to the Vatican. He asked his Prior if he needed to reschedule his retreat.
“Even if the Pope dies, your solitary prayers on retreat will be as helpful as our community prayers.”
“But to travel to the Vatican to witness the events.”
The Prior waved his hands in a dismissive gesture. “Would you prefer to be one of thousands seeking a glimpse of the next Pope in a crowded Saint Peter’s Square or would you prefer to seek the grace of Jesus directly?”
“I guess I’m just anxious about the length of time that I will be out of touch.”
“I will give you a satellite cell so you can call for help if needed.”
“Whatever you think is best.”
On Easter Monday, April 25, 2025, the tenth day on his retreat, the monk felt a change in the atmosphere. He imagined that the lightness in the air was the Spirit of the resurrected Christ blessing him. However, he also realized it might be the impact of the mountain elevation and his minimum diet. The feeling passed.
It was another two weeks before a great joy of still silence overtook the monk. He didn’t move from his meditation for an entire day. When he finally moved again, his body felt stiff but also fresh, like he was learning to use it again. The rest of his retreat passed in blessed state of joy.
On the forty-first day, the Prior and another monk came to pick him up at the retreat. They rode ATVs (all-terrain vehicles) to reach the remote cabin. The monk exited the cabin as they approached.
The three men exchanged greetings before the Prior blurted out, “We have a new pope. He is an American.”
The monk laughed and said, “Americans are savages.”
“Yes, but not all savages are bad.”