Monkey and the Great Mystery

The sharp sound awakened me.

“You were snoring,” the voice declared.

The copy of James Lee Burke’s novel, Jolie Blon’s Bounce, lay open at my feet where it had landed next to the right rocker of my rocking chair after falling from my lap. Aside from Mike’s cat, Monkey, intent on cleaning himself and unfazed by the book’s having crashed inches from his hind quarters, I was alone on the porch. A rambunctious chipmunk scurried among the hostas plants next to the kitchen walkway, and it too appeared unaffected by the loud noise.

Strange, I thought.

“Are you there, Mike?” I asked leaning forward to peer around the corner of the porch hoping to see my wife’s son. No one answered and the walkway to the front door was clear.

“Please, stop staring at me,” I said returning to the taciturn cat now occupied with his forepaws.  I glanced over my right shoulder to see if anyone stood inside the screen door. The kitchen was empty. Monkey finished cleaning, stretched out on the wooden floor, closed his eyes and seemed to pay me no heed.

“Did you know,” the voice continued, “that cats sleep between fifteen and twenty hours a day but even when they’re in their deepest sleep they can hear and smell; amazing isn’t it?”

“Hello!” I shouted.

No one replied.

I picked up the book, opened to page three hundred forty-six, where I’d left off to nap before finishing the epilogue, and began reading.

I could see Legion running through the woods toward the bay, hogs scattering around him…

“Want to hear a joke?” the voice asked in a gentler tone.

I turned in the direction of the sound but heard only the familiar creaking of the empty twin rocking chair to my left as it rocked back and forth.

Shaking my head in disbelief I returned to the book, but before doing so grabbed the chair’s arm and stopped its movement.

… a bolt of lightning struck the bay or the woods, I couldn’t tell which…

“It’s short, funny, and I think you’ll get a kick out of the punch-line,” the persistent but not visible voice said.

Okay, I thought, I can play this game too.

Turning toward Monkey, I said, “Are you talking to me?”

Mike’s cat didn’t budge, but someone chuckled behind my back. I spun around but once again came face-to-face with the metronome-like movement of the empty rocking chair. Though the voice was disconcerting and frustrating, I had a hunch that I had become the butt of a well-designed prank. I smiled, then reopened the book, assured that eventually the perpetrators would be revealed.

…There were no wounds in [Legion] Guidry’s body. It looks like he was hit by lightning. His boots were blown off his feet…Anyway, he didn’t go out alone. He was [found] floating around with a bunch of dead pigs.

I shut the book and closed my eyes to savor the writer’s last scene before heading up to my second-floor office.

“He’s an excellent writer, Mr. Burke, that is. Do you know who gave him the idea for Legion and the hogs?”

Though tempted to answer the question, I hesitated then said, “I’m not biting.”

“Okay, think about it for a few minutes, but before we get to your answer, which I know you’ll guess, I’m beside myself with giddiness, because I want to tell you this joke, so here goes. Use your imagination. A state trooper has pulled over Fr. Hennessey, who’s heading to a senior home for a pastoral visit.”

The chuckling became a veiled giggle, but this time I located the sound coming from in front of me, near or at the base of the porch steps. Resisting the temptation to peek, I stubbornly kept my mouth shut and eyes closed. I’ll show them, I thought.

The voice continued.

“Officer: Reverend, have you been drinking?

“Reverend: Just water, officer.

“Officer: Then why do I smell wine?

“Reverend: Good Lord, He’s done it again!”

Demure giggling turned into thunderous rejoicing. The booming sound made me jump, wide-eyed from the rocking chair only to be met by the source of the untethered merriment—the tiny, hyperactive chipmunk, now on hind legs and holding its belly, was doubled-up in raucous laughter. I closed then rubbed my eyes, but when I opened them the unrestrained rodent, defying logic, remained in place on the slate walkway.

“What do you think?”

As I turned in the direction of the voice, toward Monkey, out of the corner of my eye I caught movement. The chipmunk was scurrying across the driveway then disappeared under the woodpile.

“Am I dreaming?” I asked, staring at Monkey. “And, if not, are you…?”

Monkey lay motionless. “Whether you are dreaming or not, I am who you think I am.”

My heartbeat increased. I took a deep breath and looked over my left shoulder where the empty rocking chair had begun to rock back and forth once more.

“You might explain what’s happening as a form of shapeshifting, but the Greeks knew it was ‘the appearance of god,’ and called it a theophany—heady stuff. I like to keep it simple.” The voice occupied the empty seat, no doubt about it, and though wanting to say something, I was dumbstruck and unable to sort through the swirling thoughts that took my breath away.

“It is a bit much to take in. Moses felt the same way, as did Saul on the Damascus road before he became Paul the renowned man of letters. Which reminds me of our Mr. Burke.”

I started to speak but nothing came out.

“Son, you’ll get your tongue back, don’t be concerned, and for better or worse you’ll find your speech. I’ve seen this so many times. However, I’ve got a point to make about your favorite author. Do you remember the story of the demon-possessed man at the cemetery in the Gardarenes?”

Though I remained puzzled and awestruck, a strange sense of assurance buoyed me as I replied that I did recall Jesus’ casting out the evil spirits.

“Matthew, Mark, and Luke recount the strange tale, but in Mark and Luke’s version when Jesus asks the evil spirit its name it replies, ‘Legion,’ and then my Son casts the evil spirits into a herd of pigs who stampede down the hill to their demise in the lake.”

I paused then realized where the voice was going. “Are you suggesting that James Lee Burke used the gospel writers’ story in his scene where Legion Guidry and the hogs are struck by lightning and found dead in the water?”

“You’d have to ask Mr. Burke.”

Realizing how unlikely it was that such a meeting and conversation would occur, let alone the one in which I was currently engaged, I remained silent and thoughtful.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the voice continued while chuckling, “but whatever else, remember Monkey, the wired chipmunk, and this empty rocking chair. Your Mr. Burke’s character, Dave Robicheaux, ended the book’s epilogue with this thought: “…I wonder if there is any way to adequately describe the folly that causes us to undo all the great gifts of both Earth and Heaven.”

No, there isn’t, I thought.

 The rocking chair stopped moving, Monkey raised his head and meowed, and a light breeze rippled through the hostas plants.

The Great Mystery is all around us in infinite and shape-shifting, creative ways that defy our finite capacity to see It. We must pay attention, and sometimes that means attending to the bizarre and unexpected that stretches us beyond our comfortable finiteness.

Joke courtesy of Dona

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