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Jesus asked me to start the Last Judgment, reverend abbot. His exact words were, “Paul, I want you to announce to the world who can enter the Kingdom of God and who is excluded.” I told him, “Only you can judge the living and the dead.” Jesus said, “Tell what you know and you become me.” I said, “I don’t want to be you.” He said, “Haven’t you always dreamed of telling the Final Story, Paul?” I said, “I will never tell the Final Story if it means starting the Last Judgment.” Then you know what I did? I told Maria Perez, the love of my life. That was Tuesday. Yesterday, I came this close to telling my friend, Ben Sachs, when he laughed and said there was no Last Judgment. And I wanted to tell John Clay before he made my appointment with you, reverend abbot. Do you think I came to your monastery because I’m strong? I came because I am weak. Because I can’t trust myself to keep my mouth shut without help. I came because you and your monks follow a strict rule of silence. I can’t start the Last Judgment if I’m forbidden to speak, can I? Still, I almost didn’t come. When I boarded my flight in New York yesterday, I believed coming here was the only thing to do. By the time the plane landed, I had serious doubts. I turned my rental car around four times. Please, don’t misunderstand. Your reputation for hospitality is the finest. From the moment I arrived, the warmth of your greeting made me feel I am among friends. And, please, don’t think my reluctance was a reflection on your monastery. What a sanctuary. I got up with the monks before dawn to hear them sing the Gregorian Chant. It could have been the ninth century. I saw hooded monks illuminated only by candlelight as they sang, Vidimus stellam eius in Oriente.
Approximate Word count = 1278
Approximate Pages = 5.1
(250 words per page double spaced)
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