The Wholly Graal

By Louis C. Medcalf

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     Once upon a time many years ago, in the land called the Truest West, there lived a knight named Dean. Sir Dean was a true and faithful member of the Romantic Catholic Church. Disdaining wars and unsatisfied with a quiet, courtly life, he took to listening to monks from various preaching orders who came to hold gospel meetings. Sometimes they preached about Jesus but mostly they talked about what his envoys wrote or did. Sometimes they urged more Bible reading for their listeners but more often they told the people to go to Sermon religiously and give more money. These things, however, did not ease his unease nor raise his malaise. The more uncertain he felt, the more fervidly did he pursue the advice of these mendicant friars.

     Then one day a new preacher showed up in front of the castle of Sir Alex, announcing a meeting that eve to tell of a glorious discovery concerning the will of God. The knight, who by now was not really expecting any relief for his problems went anyway to the tent, pitched by a stream below his castle.

     There he heard Brother Dichotomy

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preach while the summer stars came out. The lesson started much the same as usual so Sir Dean fell to scrutinizing the picture on the hand-operated fan he held, and filling in the printed letters with his ballpoint pen. The picture was a multicolored lithograph of an emptied tomb and below it was printed:

     The friar was speaking, of course, of the Graal. He then closed off his lesson with an invitation hymn called, "It is More Blessed to Give than to Receive and Go Home Without Paying." The pages turned up the torches and gave people the opportunity to respond by passing the plates.

     Now Sir Dean was neither a dope nor a dupe. He recognized this Graal business as a Coming Thing and accordingly sent for Dichotomy to join him in a crock of cookies and a mug of milk so he could ask further about the sacred cup.

     "I thought the original Graal was lost." Sir Dean had not been able to make that a question, but it really was not a statement either.

     "Not so, Sir Knight," the friar answered. "It went into hiding, no doubt, for we have no record of it, but there is no reason why it cannot be restored to its proper place.

     "And what of the Romantic Catholic Church," asked the knight.

     "It is a passing thing that hinders God's fun, I mean pleasing God," said the friar, a bit embarrassed at such a theological slip as to have attributed a frivolous state of mind to God. That sort of thing will get nowhere fast, he said to himself.

     "Where is the Graal?"

     "I do not know, but it cannot be far, for God would not permit that," said Brother Dichotomy, pouring himself another mug of milk.

     "But how will I know when I find it?"

     "Find what?" asked the preacher whose attention was taken up by a ginger snap.

     "The Graal."

     "Oh, that. It's easy and simple. Anyone who is a sincere seeker of the truth can, nay will, find it."

     Sir Dean realized that to ask any further questions about the Graal's specific physical whereabouts would only elicit vague metaphysical answers, to say nothing of being very uncool. Therefore, with great speed, little ceremony, and a small bag of silver coins, he ushered the preacher out the front gate.

     "Thank you," said Dichotomy, "tread not the ox that muzzles out the grain. That's scripture."

     Then Sir Dean retired to his chamber, for it was very late and he sat in thought for a long time before going to sleep. By the time he fell into deep slumber he had resolved to go a-graaling.

     The next day, rising betimes, he left the castle, and turning toward the West, rode off. He rode for weeks while his purse grew light, his heart grew heavy, and his sword grew rusty. He often stopped along the way to ask about the Graal but folk did not know, did not care, or sent him chasing wild geese.

     By the time his clothes were getting ragged, he finally stumbled on a cave enshrouded with moss, enveloped with fog, and enguarded by a hungry-looking dog. The knight, who had been expecting a dragon with at least one head, looked about to see if anyone was watching. Satisfied of his privacy he dismounted and boldly advanced on the dog who promptly lost all interest in the cave and retreated to a position where he could watch the knight who was far more interesting.

     "Begone, sirrah," said the knight, waving his hand. The dog, wellborn but in fallen circumstances, returned the wave with his tail.

     Sir Dean entered the cave, and in the gloom he tripped. Recovering himself, a formidable task in armor, he felt about his feet for the object which had thrown

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him, and his hands encountered a large drinking cup. Muttering something about haloes, he returned with the object to the sunlight. It was a cup, not large, but well-proportioned, lacking in ornament and a bit dented, but Sir Dean was wholeheartedly delighted. Not only had he found the Graal but he had it in his possession so that he could return and share it with other sincere seekers of the truth.

     But rather than go straight home, he resolved to go first to the king in Natchville. There, a few days later he found a lot of other errant knights with graals. Graals, you see, breed well in captivity (or anywhere else for that matter) and they were multiplying daily. Some of the other graals were larger than his and most were more attractive. Some had great retinues and were riding on velvet cushions or platforms borne by a score of young warriors. They were all like his in one respect. Each was touted to be the one genuine Wholly Graal.

     Now you might suppose that men who could agree that their country was the Truest West--much truer than the Past West which was actually pretty far east of the Truest West - agree on which was the Truest Graal. But not so, and Sir Dean sadly packed his graal in his worn saddlebags and turned homeward.

     It came to pass that night, that an angel awakened him from his sleep as he lay encamped along the Hills of Light. The knight was very frightened but the angel bade him to be of good cheer and follow. They went into the wood and walked a long while until they came to a small clearing.

     The angel turned to Dean and asked, "Do you still seek the Graal?"

     "Yes" he answered quietly, none too sure of himself

     "Then look," said the angel pointing to the sky.

     Dean looked up and slowly things began to move and change around him until he saw a fountain in a sunny summer garden, a thick furious column of sparkling water.

     "What do you see?" asked the angel.

     "I see a fountain."

     "Look closer," said the angel.

     It was then that Dean saw the outline of a cup at the center of the fountain and it was then that he knew that what overflowed the Graal was more important than the physical container. Then, when he blinked his eyes, he was back in the little clearing where insects were clicking, birds were fluttering and the moon was setting. But the angel was gone.

     It took him longer to get back to his camp because it was darker in the woods and the trees were thick. He lay down and went easily to sleep as he did when he was a child. He was almost home the next day when he discovered what was bothering or, rather, what was not bothering him. His heart was light and free and now he understood the mystery--not all, but so much more than ever before.

     He began sharing all that he had, money, understanding, joy and love. Many whom he taught became happy in the Lord. They left off graaling which had become (and still remains) all the rage. They stayed home to make friends, bind wounds and harvest the fields. You cannot do much reaping while off chasing graals.

     From time to time various errant and erring knights and all kinds of friars would come to his gate to urge him to help them find the graal or to covet his support of one of the graals already found. He always invited them in to eat. Those who had time stayed the night. Sir Dean was a polite listener and said little except to ask those who had a graal what it contained and those who were still looking what they expected to find in the graal. This always puzzled the guests. Some of them became quite angry. A few returned later to thank him for opening their eyes.

     He kept the cup he had found in the

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cave and when he polished it up it looked a lot better than he had even thought when he first found it. Thereafter, he kept it on the mantle in his bedroom where he used it from which to quaff milk while eating his cookies and ginger snaps.

     Louis C. Medcalf can he addressed at 1665 Pullan, Cincinnati, Ohio 45223, where he is engaged in writing a thesis on religious architecture as an aid to capturing the ideal of God for service to saints and sinners.