My name is Mordechi. The time of my tale? About the mid-nineteenth Century, I guess; time doesn’t mean much where I come from. The country? Rural Italy. It’s a dangerous place to be, especially after dark. It’s after dark…
Some years back, I was on assignment. I was sent to see that a man was not harmed that night. There were eight brigands hidden in the rocks ahead who intended just that. Their chosen victim was an unassuming rural priest making his way home after a church service. He would have fainted had he known one day he will be canonized: St. John Bosco. Yet, he never heard that from me; in fact, he never even saw me. But for that prophecy to come to truth, Bosco had to survive this encounter. That’s why I’m here. I am an angel sent for this task. But I wasn’t sent alone…
I looked across the deserted, dusty cart-trail, and easily saw what no human eye could discern: my colleague. He is not an angel, but an emissary of Heaven. His name in ‘Grigio’ [The Great Gray Wolf], and we have worked together now and then over the millennia.
I smiled as I sensed Bosco coming down the path. He was lost in thought, as usual, reviewing tonight’s sermon to see how he might have been more effective in delivering Heaven’s message, or, at least provided solace for the poor people who were his congregation. But, it’s hard to set your mind on Heaven when your stomach pains for food.
Bosco was across the path from me, head down, lost in thought. A sudden, threatening commotion ahead of him brought him abruptly back not only to the present, but to his peril.
Eight raggedly dressed men, armed with knives and clubs, formed an ominous semi-circle in front of him. Just inches and seconds from his fate, the little minister threw his hands upwards, and said in a voice freighted with terror, “Please deliver me!” and out of the mist roared Grigio.
Although Grigio is far too large to be merely a dog or wolf, that is what he most resembles, a gigantic mastiff. He is the size of a small horse – four and a half feet tall at the shoulder- and has a lustrous grey coat. However, it was likely his teeth that suggested to the outlaws that they quickly reconsider their plans for the evening. Grigio thundered towards them; they broke and ran screaming into the darkness. (Truth be told, the outlaws need not have worried that Grigio would have eaten them, per se. But – rip out a few pounds of flesh if needed to make his point? Oh yes!)
Grigio turned towards the trembling Bosco, then laid down, and wagged his tail. Gradually, the priest realized Grigio was there to defend him. He accompanied the priest back to his oratory, then disappeared into the night.
For the next thirty years, 1854-1884, Grigio would occasionally appear to accompany Bosco, yet, whether or not the two were together, whenever Bosco was threatened, Grigio would appear, dispense with the threat, and see the Father safely home. Like the night the good Reverend was passing alone through a harsh part of town, when he was accosted by two brutal ne’er-do-wells. They pulled a large sack over his head, and Bosco screamed, “Oh where is my Grigio!” Suddenly, out of a dark alley sped the gigantic Mastiff, clearly not in a good mood, a fact not lost on the two who fled in raw panic.
There are abundant witnesses to the relationship of the two to be found in monastic history and contemporary Catholic writing. Children could touch Grigio, even ride on his broad back; yet the huge beast was never seen to eat or drink.
After a fifteen year absence, Grigio appeared to Bosco for the last time, when the father had become lost in the mountains. Calling for his spirit protector, Bosco was faint with joy to see Grigio bounding joyously down a path. The Grey Wolf led his friend to his destination without incident. This was about 1883 in human terms.
I should also add this: from 1893 to 1930, a huge grey wolf protected the inhabitants of a nunnery, The Sisters of Salesia, a now world-wide order founded by Bosco. His presence, again witnessed repeatedly. In other words, Grigio was eighty-six years old in 1930. Or, it might have been his son or grandson, or something else… I’ll leave that for you to puzzle out.
Author’s Note
This story beckons and bestirs me, because it suggests not merely Heaven’s interest, but its involvement in our daily lives. There is, I believe, a difference between knowing and believing a thing. I believe in God, but sometimes I doubt, thus I long for more knowing and a little less mere belief.
To illustrate my point: The story of the most religious man on the rooftop during a rising flood. One rowboat, later another, came to rescue him, but he told the men within both, “No! I’ll wait for God to rescue me!” A short time later he drowned.
He arrived in Heaven soaking wet and hopping mad, berating God for His dereliction. God raised a hand and said, “Son, I sent you two rowboats.” Or, how about this: I sent you a Grigio.
So, we might all consider if there is or has been a ‘Grigio’ – or more than one – in our lives, And in this context, I mean a spirit as big as a bear, as small as a hummingbird, in human shape or animal; to be with us for a moment or many years; not always there to protect, sometimes to comfort, to teach, to reassure, and yes, sometimes – maybe – to escort us to the Other Side. I think of the patients I have encountered; think of my lost boy Rock…
There is a wonderful, seldom-used word, ‘asymtotic’; which means coming ever closer but never touching. I’ve always needed to feel closer to my God. While I know I can never touch Him [the ultimate knowing] never touch Him at least on this side of being [maybe afterwards], I yet hoped I could grow more firm in my belief. Having had several Grigio’s in my life –or so I conclude – this story warms and heartens me.
Look for Lucky’s books locally and on-line: The Oath of Hippocrates; The Cotillian; A Journey Long Delayed, and Campfire Tales.
