A monk, the hunger of multitudes,
visits the village to fill his empty bowl
Feed a monk, feed a thousand
A priest, the bridge between right and wrong doing,
blesses souls on both sides of the line
Be touched by a priest, be touched
by the mother who blames no one
and the father who forgives
A common saint, the glad worker,
greets the eye of the lonely scribe who came for lunch
Meet a common saint’s welcome,
know the face of kindness omnipresent is affection’s longing to exist
And the monk and the priest are masks
necessarily worn in the common saint’s absence
And the common saint is rarely bread of ignoble compensation
The disappearance of courtesy is the protest of a full-bellied child starved
Children of the wealthiest nation are fed some of the poorest quality food produced. This because their parents are unable to afford high quality and someone is willing to produce low quality food for profit. The malnourished child's thinking and general development is compromised. Additionally, these children are served short-lived slavery-made products across the board for the same reason their food is poor. In turn, Albatross babes starve on bellies full of plastic.
Make the effort not about ensuring your own child’s well-being, but about ensuring the generation’s well-being. Then, may generations to come know the common saint so well that courtesy again is the norm.
Some flood of generosity is required to restore balance; to retire the monk and the priest.
The monk herein is informed by the story of monks squatting near a town in Oregon, where they knock on doors regularly with their empty bowls. The priest herein is informed by This Restless Sea: Contemplative Practice and Prophetic Witness Amidst Violence by Fr. James Krueger at On Being. The common saint is a waitress in Missoula, Montana who greeted me, the lonely scribe, with genuine affection; friendship.