RECTOR: Yes.
The Rector wished to include a view of the Recreation Room in the brochure, and so an effort would be made to complete the work there soon. The photograph of Father Louis in the garden was very unsatisfactory, and since the point was to show the same man worshipping and working (to bring out the ora and labora idea, which laymen found so attractive), the Rector wished to photograph Father Urban in the chapel and in the garden.
FR URBAN: Why me? What’s wrong with you? Or Jack, for that matter?
RECTOR: I just thought you’d take the best picture. However, if that’s the way you feel… I wish now I hadn’t tried to use Father Louis.
FR URBAN: All right. I’m game.
RECTOR: Thank you, Father. Tomorrow morning, if you don’t mind, before the ground’s covered with snow.
Although retreatants would always be welcome at St Clement’s Hill, more emphasis was going to be put on the warmer months there. St Clement’s Hill could be operating at full capacity through summer and into autumn. In fact, it might be necessary to keep Minor open during the cold months in years to come, but perhaps they shouldn’t cross that bridge until they came to it. The immediate target was Lent. It was hoped that the brochure would be printed and distributed by then.
FR URBAN: What do we do in the meantime?
RECTOR: What we’ve been doing. During the week we’ve been working around the place, improving the facilities — getting ready for the future — and on weekends we’ve been helping out in parishes. Two of us go to Olympe, and one to Great Plains.
FR URBAN: No weekend retreats then?
RECTOR: Not at present. When cold weather came, the demand for retreats fell way off. So now we all go out on weekends. Except Brother, of course.
FR URBAN: In other words, there wouldn’t be anybody here now to give retreats even if we had retreatants?
RECTOR: Look at it like this. We don’t have retreatants now, and we do have to eat. We’ll just have to go on doing this until we can afford not to — until we can make a clean break. A difficult situation, but not a permanent one, I trust. As I say, I’m hoping to change it by Lent.
FR URBAN: And you’re counting on a brochure to do it?
RECTOR: Not entirely, although I will say I have great hope for this brochure.
FR JOHN: It should be very helpful.
FR URBAN: How do you stand with the Bishop?
RECTOR: I think we can say he’s behind us.
FR URBAN: What kind of a send-off did he give you?
RECTOR: How do you mean?
FR URBAN: Well, didn’t he write a letter or something?
RECTOR: No. To tell you the truth, Father, I think the Bishop had other plans for us here — in case we didn’t make a go of this, I mean. When I saw him last spring—
FR URBAN: You haven’t seen him since then?
RECTOR: Father Provincial saw him, and then, some months later, I saw him. He spoke then of the need for a seminary — diocesan, of course. He only mentioned it in passing, and I’m glad he didn’t make it any stronger than that. As you know, our experience in co-operative ventures hasn’t always been good.
FR JOHN: Bolivar Springs.
RECTOR: With the clergy shortage there is in this diocese, it might be some time before the Bishop would be in a position to operate his own seminary, but it wouldn’t be long before he’d want a man or two on the staff. We all know that’s the beginning of the end.
FR JOHN: Bolivar Springs.
FR URBAN: Well, I must say it’s no mystery to me — why you aren’t getting local support.
RECTOR: I’ve never thought of it as much of a mystery. Even the Jesuits had their troubles before they got established in Minnesota. Frankly, I wish they’d had a few more. They’re drawing from our territory, and the Benedictines are almost as bad.
FR URBAN: You have to expect that.
RECTOR: Look at it like this. In cities we have boundaries to keep people from attending the church of their choice. Well, I say we need boundaries to keep them from making retreats outside their own diocese — unless, of course, proper facilities are lacking within it. Otherwise, the little fella gets squeezed out. He might as well close up shop.
FR URBAN: Unless the Bishop’s behind you in any diocese, you might as well close up shop.
RECTOR: I think we can say that Bishop Conor’s behind us.
FR URBAN: Dragging his feet.
RECTOR: No, watching and waiting. If we really make a go of it here, you’ll see a big change in him. After all, if he weren’t behind us, we wouldn’t be here. You mustn’t forget that. We’re still in the making-friends stage. That’s all. The Bishop’s well aware of the work we’re doing in parishes.
FR URBAN: He should be.
RECTOR: We’ve had our largest groups from parishes where we help out on weekends. So, you see, it works both ways. Once off the ground, we should be self-supporting.
FR URBAN: We’ve been here a year and we still aren’t fulfilling our real purpose.
This was a source of great regret to the Rector. The situation at St Clement’s Hill did indeed leave much to be desired, but it was not hopeless. Nothing was, with God’s help. And whatever one might personally think of the present course — the Rector, for his part, regarded it only as the best one possible—it had received the approval of Father Provincial, and therefore it would be followed out.
RECTOR: Any questions? If not, maybe we should all try and get a good night’s sleep.
FR URBAN: I was kept awake last night by noises in the wall. Whatever it was, it sounded too heavy for a mouse. Do we have rats? I’d appreciate a straight answer.
RECTOR: Probably a squirrel.
FR URBAN: A squirrel?
RECTOR: Your little red squirrel.
FR URBAN: I don’t get it.
RECTOR: Wherever you have oak trees, you have nuts, and wherever you have nuts, you have squirrels. They don’t hurt anything. I’m talking about the cute little fella with the white belly. Your great red squirrel, sometimes called the fox squirrel, is something else again. I wouldn’t want him in the house.
FR URBAN: I shouldn’t think you’d want any of ’em in the house.
RECTOR: They’re not in the house proper.
FR URBAN: Well, can’t we get rid of ’em?
RECTOR: That’s easier said than done. Generations of red squirrels have stored their nuts in this old house.
FR URBAN: Stop up their holes.
RECTOR: That’s been tried. It doesn’t work.
FR URBAN: It has to, if you get all the holes.
RECTOR: Have you taken a good look at the eaves, Father?
FR URBAN: I can’t say I have. No.
RECTOR: Take a good look at the eaves. For many years they weren’t painted, and now they’re beyond painting. The way the wood is now, a squirrel can eat his way in or out in a matter of minutes. I’ve watched ’em do it. To cover the holes with tin, as Father Louis did, is just a waste of time, and it ruins the appearance of the house. The squirrels are always one hole ahead of you. Father Louis found that out. Shoot ’em or trap ’em, and more just take their place.
FR URBAN: We need new eaves then.
RECTOR: Have any idea what they’d set us back?
FR URBAN: I have no idea.
RECTOR: Well, I do. I’ve had several estimates. No, the time to replace your eaves is when you replace your roof. One thing leads to another. It took years of neglect to get this house in the shape it’s in now, and there’s no use trying to reverse the process overnight — unless you’re prepared to go all the way, which we’re not, at the moment. You may not believe it, and maybe I shouldn’t say it, but there’s more to running a place like this than meets the eye.