35053668-Empire-of-the-Soul-Paul-William-Roberts

‘THERE’S BLOODLETTING AS WE SPEAK’
her own spiritual fulfilment. The thought surprised me with its
irreverence.
‘Are you consciously trying to be a saint?’
‘I share the passion of Christ,’ she said, looking at me angrily,
beads clacking. ‘If you wish to share this with us, you come to the
service in our chapel this evening to praise God with us. Then you
will see what we do here.’
I told her I’d heard that Jerry Brown had worked with her as a
volunteer, and since he was still an American presidential candidate
at that point I asked how he’d held up.
‘Brown?’ she repeated. ‘There are so many volunteers. Let them
all come. They come and work, though. No one comes here and
does not work. They must be willing to work.’
‘To suffer, you mean?’
‘It is all for the love of God.’
‘Is it, Mother? Or is it just more vanity – as Ecclesiastes would
have said?’ She rose abruptly, glaring at me. Her feelings weren’t
hurt, I felt; but her pride was.
‘Thank you,’ she muttered, hastening back through the curtain
from whence she’d appeared.
‘Hi,’ said a lazy American voice.
I looked up. A young red-haired girl in baggy salwar-kameez was
sorting through a pile of mail on the windowsill.
‘Hi. You’re a volunteer?’
‘Just for nine months.’ She mopped the sweat on her freckly
brow. ‘Are you a missionary?’
‘Sort of. How are you finding it?’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Can I be honest?’
‘Ideally.’
‘Half the problem here is laziness. We’d be this poor if we were as
lazy as these people.’
‘You think Mother sees it that way?’
‘Mother’s Mother – she likes doing everything for them.’ I asked if
that meant she liked them helpless and grateful. ‘Maybe it does.’
‘Are you disillusioned?’
She screwed up her eyes, shook her head, sighed, then said, ‘Yeah.
But that’s OK. I wanted to believe in fairies once, too.’
299