Paul rose early the next morning. He had to get ready for the Mass in the church at 6. He used the toilet and washed his face, neck, wrists, and hair. He had no shower, and water service in the colony was often interrupted so each Saturday he filled a barrel with water. If he was careful, it would last through the week, even during the summer. Paul was accustomed to washing in a small basin of water and bathing only every other day. He dried his hair, combed it, and then lathered his face and shaved.

He kept a small mustache but shaved the rest of his face clean. Many of the Christian men in the colonies wore a mustache, but only a few of them wore beards. Most Muslims were bearded. Paul rinsed and wiped his cheeks and chin, put on his glasses, and examined his face in the dim light reflected on the chipped mirror. The crease between his eyebrows was getting deeper. He tried to relax his eyebrows and saw the shadow in the crease dim. But the crease remained.

His hair was thick and black, but a few gray hairs had begun to appear on his temples and in his mustache. His complexion was light, his nose and chin strong, his lips full. He smiled, but his smile looked half-hearted and a little crooked. Not so handsome after all, he thought!

Paul went into his room, slipped on his cassock and his shoes, turned off the light, and quietly went out through the front room to the door. As he opened it, the faint light from the street allowed him to see the outline of three beds stacked against the wall. No need to wake them, he thought. He closed and locked the door, went out the gate, and then unlocked the gate and door of the house next to his. The church was simply a house that was used for services. The single room could seat about 25 persons on the floor.

Upon entering the church, he saw the candles and smelled the incense. He smiled at the familiar sight and scent. Martha always set up for the Mass before he arrived. He was lucky to have someone so punctual assisting him. Martha was kneeling in prayer before the table at the front of the sanctuary. Paul looked past her to the wall behind the altar, which had wallpaper depicting a garden scene. The wallpaper had begun to peel in several places, and children had scratched these edges off. The candles now cast flickering shadows across the perforated landscape. He had opposed the wallpaper, because he preferred a simple white plaster behind the altar. But some of the men had put it up anyway. Obviously, it had some meaning for them. It irritated him that Martha liked it. Probably, he thought, she had given the men permission to put it up.

He knelt facing the altar but several feet away from Martha, in the place where the men would sit. Custom dictated that men and women be on different sides of the church. Soon two other women came in, and then three of the recovering addicts joined them on the floor. When it was about ten minutes after six, he rose, bowed to the crucifix behind the altar, and then stepped around behind the table. Martha had arranged the missal and prepared the elements for the Mass. Paul began the familiar litany, surprised by how loud his voice sounded to him in the silence of the small sanctuary.

"The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all."

"And also with you," they responded.

Paul rarely had to look at the missal. He had committed the Mass to memory long ago. He merely had to look up the collect for the day and the readings.

He knelt before they said the prayer of confession together.

"I confess to almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned through my own fault in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do . . . ."

These words were never routine for Paul. In saying them he realized how he had failed to live up to his calling to be a witness to the love of God in Christ. He knew he was basically a selfish person. After all, he had fled when the police attacked the protest march, even though friends of his lay wounded in the street. God, forgive me, he prayed silently. Forgive me for thinking only of myself.

After the confession, he rose from his knees and spread his arms out toward the six persons who remained kneeling before him. "May almighty God have mercy on us, forgive us our sins, and bring us to everlasting life."

"Amen."

They all stood for the Kyrie Eleison. Paul sang this prayer, because the resonance of his voice in his chest made it more convincing for him.

"Lord, have mercy," he sang, and the six persons standing before him repeated,

"Lord, have mercy."

"Christ, have mercy."
"Christ, have mercy."

"Lord, have mercy."

"Lord, have mercy."

Then, together, they sang the Gloria.

"Glory to God in the highest and peace to his people on earth. Lord God, heavenly King, almighty God and Father, we worship you, we give you thanks, we praise you for your glory."

Martha sang a lovely alto harmony during the Gloria that made their seven voices seem more like a real choir. Her voice lacked strength, but she sang with an enthusiasm that added intensity to the sound of their singing.

"Lord Jesus Christ, only Son of the Father, Lord God, Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world: have mercy on us; you are seated at the right hand of the Father: receive our prayer."

Paul didn't care much for the image of Jesus seated on a throne in heaven next to God. It reminded him too much of monarchs and the British Empire. Instead, he always pictured Jesus on the cross, suffering for the sins of the world. And God? Paul didn't have an image of God. He thought of God as a spiritual power or energy.

"For you alone are the Holy One, you alone are the Lord, you alone are the Most High, Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit, in the glory of God the Father. Amen."

It struck Paul this morning, during the singing of the Gloria, that according to the blasphemy laws of Pakistan in the Mass they were committing blasphemy by praising Jesus as Lord. Jesus Christ, they sang, was the Holy One, joined with the Holy Spirit, in the glory of God the Father. This was their faith. For Muslims, however, this affirmation of the Trinity was a denial of the oneness of God.

The lessons for the day included the text from the gospel of Matthew, "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." Usually Paul didn't give a homily in the morning Mass, but today he spoke briefly about loving the Muslims of Karachi, even though it seemed that they were the enemies of the Christians. He reminded those praying with him that Jesus had loved the Jewish leaders who had turned him over to the Romans to be crucified. Loving our enemies, of course, did not mean accepting injustice at their hands. After all, Jesus had thrown the money changers out of the temple in order to cleanse it. Similarly, Christians needed to stand up for justice even if they might suffer for it.

The people had been seated on the floor during the readings and the homily, but they stood to say the Apostles' Creed. Generally, the morning service did not include reciting a creed, but Paul always used the Apostles' Creed during Lent as a kind of penance. It made the Lenten morning service a little longer and different from the other seasons.

"We believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth."

On this point, Christians and Muslims were in agreement. Both believed in God, the Creator of the universe. Muslims fully accepted the Genesis account in the Bible. In fact, they saw themselves as descendants of Ishmael, the first son of Abraham, whose mother, Hagar, had been the servant of Abraham and his wife, Sarah. When Sarah seemed unable to have children, she encouraged Abraham to father a child with Hagar, following the custom of their people at that time. Later, when Sarah finally gave birth to a son, Isaac, she became jealous of Ishmael and persuaded Abraham to send him and Hagar away. Even as the Jews saw themselves as descendants of Isaac, so the Arabs believed they were descendants of Ishmael. And all Muslims were the spiritual descendants of the Arabs.

"We believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord. He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended to the dead. On the third day he rose again. He ascended into heaven, and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again to judge the living and the dead."

Paul saw in his mind the crucifix in his room with Jesus hanging near death on the cross. Jesus was crucified by Pilate, the Roman Governor of Jerusalem, because he was stirring up the Jewish people with his preaching about the kingdom of God. But God gave Jesus new life, and the Church was part of that new life. The church was the risen body of Christ in the world.

"We believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen."

In seminary Paul had learned that the Apostles' Creed was originally written in Greek, which made sense because the entire New Testament was also originally written in Greek. In Greek the verb "believe" was a form of the noun "faith" that meant "to trust in." Saying "we believe" in the Creed was, therefore, actually saying "we have faith in" or "we put our trust in." It had been a revelation to Paul to realize that the Apostles' Creed was not a list of beliefs that you had to check off mentally, but instead was a way of pointing to the New Testament witness that called all Christians to trust in the God they knew through Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit. Saying the Creed did not mean you had to be convinced of the literal truth of all its assertions. For instance, you could in good conscience say the Creed without believing that Jesus was actually sitting at the right hand of God in Heaven. The language was metaphorical and not to be taken literally. Saying the Creed was a way of affirming trust in God, and in Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Spirit, and in the Church, which is how Christians have come to know and respond to God.

"The Lord be with you," Paul said to those before him.

"And also with you."

"Lift up your hearts."

"We lift them up to the Lord.

"Let us give thanks to the Lord our God."

"It is right to give him thanks and praise."

Together they sang the Sanctus.

"Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might. Heaven and earth are full of your glory. Hosanna in the highest. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest."

Paul generally used one of the shorter Eucharistic prayers. "Father, you are holy indeed, and all creation rightly gives you praise." As he continued to pray, he lifted the bread and wine in his hands. "And so, Father, we bring you these gifts. We ask you to make them holy by the power of your Spirit, that they may become the body and blood of your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, at whose command we celebrate this Eucharist."

He placed the plate with the bread and the chalice with the wine back on the table and lifted only the bread. "On the night Jesus was betrayed, he took bread and gave you thanks and praise. He broke the bread, gave it to his disciples, and said: 'Take this, all of you, and eat it: this is my body, which will be given up for you.'" Then Paul picked up the chalice.

"When supper was ended, he took the cup. Again he gave you thanks and praise, gave the cup to his disciples, and said: 'Take this, all of you, and drink from it: this is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven. Do this in memory of me.'"

None of the gospels recorded a statement by Jesus asking that he be remembered in the breaking of the bread. But St. Paul's first letter to the church at Corinth preserved this tradition, and these words written by St. Paul had been the core of the Lord's Supper for almost two thousand years.

Paul set the chalice back down on the table and again raised his hands: "Let us proclaim the mystery of faith."

Together they sang: "When we eat this bread and drink this cup, we proclaim your death, Lord Jesus, until you come in glory."

Paul continued with the Eucharistic prayer and, when he came to the end, the people joined him in affirming: "Through him, with him, in him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is yours, almighty Father, for ever and ever." And then they sang together, "Amen, amen, amen."

Kneeling they prayed the "Our Father," and after they finished Paul prayed: "Deliver us, Lord, from every evil, and grant us peace in our day. In your mercy keep us free from sin and protect us from all anxiety as we wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ." The people joined in saying, "For the kingdom, the power and the glory are yours, now and forever."

They stood and once again Paul stretched out his hands toward them: "Lord Jesus Christ, you said to your apostles: 'Peace I leave you, my peace I give you.' Look not on our sins, but on the faith of your Church, and grant us the peace and unity of your kingdom where you live for ever and ever."

"Amen."

"The peace of the Lord be with you always."

"And also with you."

"Let us offer each other the sign of peace."

Paul came out from behind the altar to grasp the hand of each person, and they all greeted one another in the same way, saying, "Peace be with you." After Paul stepped back behind the table, they began to sing together the Agnus Dei: "Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world: have mercy on us. Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world: have mercy on us. Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world: grant us peace."

Then Paul gestured with his hands toward the bread and the wine before him.

"This is the Lamb of God," he said, "who takes away the sins of the world. Happy are those who are called to his supper."

And all together they responded, "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed."

Paul broke a piece of bread, put it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed, and then took a sip from the chalice. When the people came forward, one at a time, he looked directly into the eyes of each person as he said: "the body of Christ" and the "cup of new life." And after everyone had eaten their piece of bread and drunk from the cup, he finished the wine, wiped the cup clean, and led the people in the blessing and dismissal.

"The Lord be with you"

"And also with you."

"May almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit."

"Amen."

"Go in peace to love and serve the Lord."

"Thanks be to God."

As Martha cleared the table and snuffed out the candles, Paul remained in the sanctuary to speak with Philip, one of the recovering drug addicts who came regularly to morning Mass. "You're looking good, Philip. Have you had any luck with work?"

"I've been able to get a few days of construction work, helping to clean up around the work sites and carrying bricks," he said. "It's hard, but it pays well. So I've got enough money to rent a place."

"That's great. But if you've got extra money, why don't you put it in the mission savings program?" Extra money in the pocket of a former drug addict was a great temptation, no matter how well things were going. Through the mission Paul had begun a small savings program. About twenty people in the neighborhood, mostly women, deposited their savings with him, and he put the money in a bank. The bank wouldn't accept their individual deposits, because each was too small. By putting their money together, however, he had enough to open an interest bearing account on their behalf. Each depositor kept his or her records and once a month they had a meeting to go over the bank statement and balance their books. They could withdraw funds from their own account, but Paul had to agree to any withdrawal by a recovering addict. They could also take out a loan up to twice the value of their savings, if they needed capital to buy something and all the participants in the scheme agreed.

"I don't have any extra cash yet," Philip said. "Just enough to buy food and pay my rent."

Listening to Philip, Paul realized that he'd have to watch him closely. Philip would have a real struggle resisting the temptation to buy drugs again.

Drugs were the devil of the modern world! They possessed people, turned them against their family and friends, and destroyed their lives. Even those who managed to recover were easily overwhelmed by the urge to get high. Paul made the sign of the cross over Philip. "Keep coming to Mass every morning," he said, looking directly into Philip's eyes as he spoke. Philip dropped his eyes and nodded. Then he turned and left the church.

Paul walked back to the sacristy where Martha was putting the chalice away. Her arms were raised above her head, as she stretched to reach the top shelf. For a slight woman she had large breasts, and with her dress stretched tightly across her body these were very noticeable. He knew he should look away, but he continued staring until she lowered her arms and turned toward him.

The startled expression on Martha's face made Paul feel like he'd been spying on her. "I'm sorry, Martha." He was sorry that he had frightened her, but regretted even more that he had watched her when she was in such a revealing position. He had just prayed for his sins to be forgiven, but here he was sinning again! "I just wanted to tell you that the three men who ate with me last night will be staying in my place for awhile. Please keep enough food in the house for them and, unless I tell you otherwise, we'll plan to be home each evening for supper."

"Of course." She looked closely at him, knowing that they were staying with him to provide protection.

Reading the question in her gaze, Paul said, "I can't tell you yet why they are staying, but as soon as possible I will explain our plans to you." Paul wanted her to know, but he didn't want her to be a target for those who might try to force her to talk. Once their plans were settled and communicated to all the elders of the colonies, then he would tell her.

"How's your family, Martha?" He wanted to make small talk so that he could stay with her a little longer. She had a plain face, but her eyes were full of light and her smile very warm. She was a little older than Paul but still lithe in her movements. He liked her and enjoyed being with her.

He listened vaguely to her account of her mother's illness and her sister's new baby. He wasn't really interested in the details of her family life, or the details of any family life. When he entered the priesthood, he left those kinds of concerns behind. His mother and father were dead, and his brothers and sisters lived in Islamabad. He didn't see them very often, and they weren't very interested in his life. They couldn't understand why he had chosen to be a priest.

His parents had belonged to a small, Pentecostal church, where he had learned about the Bible and being a disciple of Jesus. He was the best student in the family, so he was sent to a Catholic school. Because there wasn't enough money for tuition for everyone, he alone was able to attend. There he had fallen in love with Sister Elaine, an English missionary who taught science. He hadn't enjoyed science, but he had loved listening to lectures by Sister Elaine. She had an oval face with twinkling eyes. Her blond hair slipped out from behind her wimple, and her full figure was hardly disguised by her habit. Paul wasn't the only one who fancied her. None of the boys cut her classes, and they were always well behaved.

Paul, however, was her favorite. He used to come in after school to clean the blackboards for her. Then she would talk with him about her home in England and about the Church. Paul knew that he had become a Catholic because of Sr. Elaine. He wanted to be a part of the Church with her. He wanted to know that he was praying to the Virgin Mary, as she did. He could still see her clearly in his mind after all these years.

He realized that Martha had asked him a question. "I'm sorry, I was dreaming for a moment."

"I was just wondering if you would like a cup of tea."

"Yes, thank you, Martha. That would be lovely." He had learned the word "lovely" from Sister Elaine. It was such an English word. He noticed that Americans he had met never used the word. An American would have said that Martha's offer of tea was "nice."

As Martha prepared the tea, he recalled the year he spent in Birmingham. He had been so lonely. He was the only student in the school from Pakistan. All the others were English. The boys looked down on him and called him "Packie." England hadn't been the way Sister Elaine had described it to him, except for the cathedrals. Even the windows in the Gothic sanctuary of the seminary had dazzled him, and the smooth stone of the walls sent shivers down his spine. He used to enter the church by himself, touch the walls and kneel on the floor in the rainbow of light created by the sun streaming through the windows, to pray that God might be with him in his ministry and that he might always be faithful.

Martha brought in the tea and set it down on the low table. She poured him a cup and one for herself. Martha made tea the way the English nuns had taught her. She didn't mix in milk powder and sugar. She served the tea black with milk and sugar on the side. He put two spoonfuls of crystalline sugar in the tea and added a little milk. Then he stirred the tea slowly, watching the milk blend into the tea and then turn it a creamy brown. Martha poured milk in her tea but didn't take any sugar.

"I had a dream last night."

So, Paul thought, that was why she wanted to talk with him. Martha took the stories of the Bible literally. Jacob, Joseph and Mary had dreams that had given them an insight into God's will. Why shouldn't she have a similar experience? He took a sip of tea, savoring the warm, sweet liquid and swallowing it slowly, before he nodded to her to continue.

"I was standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. The wind was blowing in my face, and I could actually taste the salt in the air. Storm clouds were moving rapidly towards me, covering the sun and plunging the day into darkness."

Paul watched her eyes, as she told him of the dream. Her eyelids were wide open, her eyebrows raised in excitement and astonishment, and the light burning in her dark pupils drew him toward her.

"As the clouds came closer, I could see rain sweeping over the raging waters. I turned to find shelter, but the wind swirled around me and suddenly I couldn't see where I was going. I was terrified! Then the rain swept over me, drenching my body. I began to shiver. I was afraid to move, because I couldn't see, but I had to get out of the rain. I faced in the direction I thought was away from the cliff and began to walk slowly forward. But I slipped on the wet rocks and the next thing I knew I was falling down into the darkness."

Paul believed that dreams came from the unconscious part of the mind. He took them seriously, especially big dreams that were vivid, as this dream of Martha's certainly was. Dreams were messages from the psyche that were conveyed in symbols and as stories. Martha clearly had some deep fear within her, a fear related to her body, he guessed. The sea, wind and rain were symbols of her physical self. Perhaps she's already beginning menopause, he thought. Hormonal changes in the body were sometimes accelerated in men and women who were celibate.

"When I was falling," she continued, "I prayed, 'Father, if you save me, I'll give myself more fully to your service. I know I've been selfish. I've thought more of myself than of others. Please, Father, give me another chance.' And suddenly I found myself in a boat on the sea, but the wind was blowing more gently now and the water was calm. In the rear of the boat with his hand on the tiller was a man. The sun had come out behind him, so I couldn't see his face. He stretched his hand out toward me, and I started to move toward him. Then I woke up."

Martha was quiet for a moment, staring intently into his face. She thinks she's met Jesus in her dream, Paul thought, and she wants me to confirm that. I think, however, that her body is longing for a man, to love and cherish her and give her a child, as Sarah, the wife of Abraham, bore a child after being barren for so long. Paul knew, however, he couldn't tell Martha what he actually thought about her dream. It would shatter her faith, at least in him.

"It's a wonderful dream," he heard himself saying warmly. "It confirms the promise of resurrection. Your life was being taken from you, and then it was returned. You repented of your sins, were forgiven, and given back your life. The dream will give you comfort and strength for the rest of your life, Martha. Thank you for sharing it with me." He believed what he had said, even though he also thought the dream represented the repressed sexual feelings in Martha's life. The challenge of celibacy in the religious orders was to transform those powerful feelings into a life of renunciation for the sake of serving Christ in the Church. It was no small task.

Martha smiled at him, her eyes gleaming with tears. Paul wanted to reach out and embrace her, and she seemed to be leaning toward him, almost inviting him to respond. He laughed to release the tension in his body. "No need to cry, Martha! But I know those are tears of joy."

Paul stood silently for a moment, as Martha took a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. Then, not knowing what to say, he turned and walked to the door, opened it, and went out to the street.