Ivan Klima - The Ultimate Intimacy

If I were to try and generalize, I would say that love awakens within my soul an unusual power, but the circumstances of that love crush my soul. Often I feel an unbearable longing for the other woman but the moment she suggests to me that we might stay together a little longer or even go away somewhere for a day and a night, I become frightened that it might threaten my home even more. My heart is staggering, in the words of the prophet. But what is a home? Can it still be a place where we sleep but at the same time yearn for someone who is not allowed to cross its threshold? Then I thought to myself how many spouses lie alongside each other in their homes and think about another. Is it perverted? It isn't natural, that's for sure. Except that man is losing touch with nature and therefore also with natural behaviour; therein lies his exclusiveness. His exclusiveness can be seen in his recognition of God above him, in having eaten from the tree of knowledge of good and evil and being aware of his end here on earth, as well as in the way he destroys nature, exterminates other creatures, deceives his nearest and dearest, and kills his brothers. In addition he prays and is always ready to converse with someone who never replies.

Two days ago Martin and I were returning from a ministers' course where we talked about absolution, among other things. Some were of the

view that it is actually a duty specifically rooted in Scripture to rid the believer of his feelings of guilt. (Paul to the Galatians: 'Bear one another's burdens.') Others pointed out that the priesthood has usurped this right for themselves, thereby improperly lording it over others.

'In my opinion, 'Martin said to me, 'those are all artificial quarrels. If one wants to lord it over others, there are plenty of other opportunities to do so. But people will always look for somebody who will tell them that even though aspects of their lives have gone wrong, they still have the hope of leading a decent life. If you don't tell them that, then someone else will, but they won't say the most important thing: Go and sin no more!'

I realized that my life was also going wrong and I too needed to hear that I have the hope of leading a decent life. Martin would undoubtedly give me absolution, maybe he'd even understand me, but I haven't yet made up my mind to talk about it. There is one thing that I have to talk to him about, though: I feel I can no longer go on preaching and I want to ask him or maybe Marie to take over my congregation for a while.

We said goodbye in front of the metro station and then the following happened to me: I took the train to Hradčanské and in the subway I came upon a group of obviously drunken skinheads surrounding a dark-skinned lad. I'd say he wasn't a gypsy, more likely an Indian. They weren't beating him, only yelling and jostling him. The people leaving the metro walked past them, giving them a wide berth, and the police as usual were nowhere to be seen. I came right up to them and saw the fear in the eyes of the encircled youngster.

Although I too felt some fear I addressed them: 'Why don't you leave him alone, lads?' I couldn't think of anything cleverer to say at the time.

One of them turned to me. 'What's it to do with you, you old git? Want your face smashed too?' And he shoved me with such force that I staggered sideways.

So now the others turned to me too. They seemed to be hesitating over which of us would make the more suitable victim. That momentary ' hesitation was enough for the dark-skinned youngster to take to his heels and for me to mingle with the people leaving the metro station. Martins right; they're all artificial, the things we debate on those courses, and they have precious little to do with modern-day life.

Mention of the police and the subway brings to mind something else that I noticed yesterday. I was walking along our street when suddenly a police car overtook me and stopped at the corner. Four policemen got

out. I observed them from a distance. They drew their pistols and looked as if they were releasing the safety catches too. They then lifted a manhole cover and started to descend into the sewer. I looked on in amazement at this film sequence but there was no camera or producer to be seen. I'd have loved to know if they were going underground in pursuit of mafiosi or skinheads, or to shoot at sewer-rats or to visit a ceremony by some particularly extreme underground sect. I reached the open manhole and stood there listening for several moments, wondering whether I would hear pistol shots, a shout or music. But there was deadly silence. It occurred to me that those four men would never emerge again. 'So they and all that belonged to them went down alive into Sheol; and the earth closed over them, and they perished from the midst of the assembly. '

The remaining policeman sat in the car observing me with indifference.

Bara's Saša has his spring allergy and Bára decided she would take him to the seaside whether her husband liked it or not. She asked me if I would mind her taking the trip to Barcelona.

I expressed surprise at the question.

'But I'll be away from you for a week, ' she explained. 'You'll have sent me out into the world and left yourself behind here. '

I told her I often went a whole week without seeing her even when she didn't go away anywhere.

That's different. She asked me whether I wouldn't come after all. I replied — as she had recently — that we oughtn't to tempt fate. When I got home the thought occurred to me: Why shouldn't I go over and see her, if only for a day? I can afford it. It was a tempting thought although I knew I would never actually do it.

A dream: I was on my way to a final-year class in my secondary school, bringing with me from home a drawing board, a blanket and a pillow. Then I realized I had taken my school-leaving exams long ago and there was no reason for me to go to school at all, so I decided to go home again. I didn't have a coat or a bag, so I put my purse and my wallet in the

back pocket of my trousers, aware that it was not a wise thing to do. But what else could I do, seeing that my hands were full? I kept checking every few moments in case my belongings had been stolen. They were, of course. And by ill chance it was the wallet, which was worse than losing money. Luckily I caught sight of a boy running away from me; I ran and caught hold of him and started to search him. His pockets were full of wallets, including mine. Once I had retrieved my wallet I walked to the tram stop. The tram didn't arrive, but instead a green bus with strangely high wheels appeared. A ladder was lowered down from the door and I was going to climb up it when I realized I had lost my blanket and pillow. I didn't know what to do, whether to get on the bus or to bok for my lost things. I let the bus leave without me but I didn't go anywhere. I just stood there.

That is my (our) situation: we are each losing our home but lack the courage to go and meet the other. She because she's afraid of her husband, and I because I'm afraid of God and the thought that I would be deceiving those who trust me. And we are both afraid of destroying our children's homes. But where are our homes? Not in the bedclothes or the identity cards, certainly. Either we carry them around within ourselves, or they are lost for good.

3

Daniel travelled to Zlín for a two-day pastoral conference. He had never been a particularly sociable person, which might have been one of the reasons why he had chosen such a solitary profession. Admittedly it involved one speaking to people and even experiencing mystic unity with them at the Lord's Supper, but at the same time one was separated from them by the pulpit, the gown and the exclusiveness of one's vocation. However, until recently he had always looked forward to these meetings with his colleagues: the more isolated he felt in his day-to-day activity, the greater the comfort he derived from being among those who shared the same fate and had to cope with similar problems and ask themselves similar questions.