it's quite easy to spot the differences in one's space, one's environment, when you're nervous or scared. in fact, it takes little if no effort at all, to absorb san fernando and kagel canyon, and exist stunned with how unfamiliar it all is.
but perhaps there is additional reason as to why houses like these, churches of god and mary and the blessed saints, are common destinations (or stopping points) for the wayward children, and the lost. stepping inside, the stories that litter the windows, that climb the pillars wooden and stone, stay consistent and recognizable. the cross hangs high, disciples painted with reverent eyes, prayer candles, pews, a quiet.
even the smell of aging wood and the careful darkness of the enclosure brings to jud comfort here. his attention doesn't spiral, his focus doesn't split, and in the aching he's privy to, forgiveness sits at the tip of his tongue. it is understandably vague, if the admission to one's overdue confession is of any value, and jud wants to assure the other man without frightening him. a complicated task, considering the question that follows.
"i believe that the world is rarely ever consistent. it is unsteady and without structure, often because people make up so much of our world. people who can be irrational, who can be selfish, who can be hurt. because of this, because we are complex beings, i cannot say with strong certainty that goodness will always be rewarded."
terrible things happen to kind people, and fortune — if viewed with a materialistic lens — favours the greedy, powerful, and selfish. there is no equation set that can distinguish why the world is the way it is, why being kind can feel detrimental and unsafe. to jud, this is where faith fits in. but to those who do not (as some cannot) see the church as a house of god, finding faith in being good for the sake of being good, and faith in humanity, in fellowship, is a self-sacrificing journey. one he merely offers, not as law nor as a prerequisite to happiness.
"but if pursuing goodness gives you courage, or if it looks like kindness towards yourself — if doing the graceful thing allows the weight you carry to shrink just so, it is an achievement nevertheless." jud cannot distinguish much from voice alone, but he assumes him younger, painfully quick to dismiss his own efforts under surrounding judgment. he swallows, sympathetic. "when we carry guilt in our heart, we often focus on rectifying it in a way that is almost surgical. we cut out pieces of ourselves and we give them away, hoping that in return, we will receive something purer. it is hard to live with it. this was true for me as well, still is. but your efforts are not lost on me, nor are they even lost to the world. you may not see it in gestures, in the faces of other people, but that you're here... this is goodness too."
