* This letter was found within the pages of Philip Callaghan's journal.

Luna Foundation
Angel Island, California

Philip, my friend,

That which we have always expected has come to pass. You've always known that one day you would receive a letter such as this, in my hand, saying good-bye. We had some good times, didn't we? Good discussions and hard battles won, and sometimes lost. I cherish the memories of those years, as I cherish your friendship. I hope mine was a good death - something to make a bloody-minded Irishman proud. Light a candle or two for me, but don't overdo. Ingrid will take care of that, I am certain. I cautioned her not to burn the chapel down.

You may not like what I am going to say to you. In truth, I speak as much of myself as of you. I've always seen so much of myself in you, my friend. I know you better than you do yourself. You have the soul of a poet, an Irish poet like Yeats, all lights and darks, horrors and joys, hints of what might be and what will be. "The blue and the dim and the dark cloths of night and light and the half-light," he once wrote. You want so much for all to be right with the world, but still terrible things happen. You find solace in "God's will" and "My faith is my sword and shield." True, Christ did say, "If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth." But even Christ walked into the Temple and overthrew the money changers' tables by the force of his own arms. Although, you may see faith as the hardest route to take, I have always seen it as the easiest - if taken for the wrong reason. It allows you to remain aloof. You offer your absolution and a shoulder to cry on and in return you receive a "Thank you, Father. Bless you, Father." If you retreat into your faith, you need never fear the guilt of a wrong decision. You need not fear the tainting your soul with an inadvertent or even an intentional sin that may have been the lesser of two evils. You need never bear the remorse of trying to the utmost of your ability and yet not having it be enough - you need not face failure and defeat. Your soul remains clean in your faith, while lives and souls may be lost for want of a helping hand. Sometimes I think you envy Christ and Peter their martyrdoms upon the cross. You'd gladly bear the pain and sins of the world, and yet it is for you that I fear the most. Bearing another's pain and sin is easy, bearing your own is much more difficult.

You and I, we think too much. I'd give anything to have been born a "happy warrior," a Brian Boru, a Richard the Lionheart. It is hard to be a dilettante warrior who thinks, who ponders the nature of right and wrong, good and evil, but that has been my lot. I know that you believed it to be pride on my part - that I take it upon myself to make life and death decisions, that I play "a cold-blooded, chess master, who moves his pieces about without a whit of concern for what they might think or feel." I did it for safety's sake, and to place the burdens upon my own soul, not upon yours. I cannot find refuge in "God's will," nor do I find what I do an act of arrogance. I find it an act of humility. I do not presume to ask God to conduct my life, nor do I ask him to shoulder the burdens of all mankind. He gave us all we needed when he gave us life, intelligence, free will, and the knowledge of right and wrong.

Was Auschwitz God's will? Was it Satan's victory? Or was it something that mankind did and for which mankind will be judged? If I have to wade into the mud and gore with a bloody sword in my hand to prevent an Auschwitz or stop a Manson or an Elizabeth Bathory, or a thousand other agents of the Darkside, and if I have to sully my own soul to do it, so be it. My conscience will allow no other choice.

On many a late night, you and I spoke of such things - destiny vs. free will, yin and yang, good and evil, light and dark. None exist without the other. We fight a war against the Darkness that we can never win. Ingrid told me that evil will be wherever we wish to see it. Do we look, or not look? I chose to look, and to fight with all my heart and all my soul even unto death. Sometimes exhaustion and despair set in at the futility of it all, then I realize that for that moment, that instant in time, we have stood fast in the Light. The sandbags have once more held against the dark tides.

So, my friend, why do I fear for you? You say the Legacy is no longer your way, that you will fight with your faith. I fear that one day you will awaken to discover that your faith has been empty. Faith and compassion are the yin and the yang of the Christian path... of the human path. Are you willing to sacrifice your pure, aloof faith to reach out a hand to those who need your help in a way your faith cannot suffice? Will faith alone save the drowning man or will you yourself jump into the maelstrom to save him or drown with him? If you will look into your own soul with a clear eye, you will know the answer - in that I have the utmost faith. I know with absolute certainty that your strength and your sense of righteousness will carry the day.

Tabhair aire! Deus tecum, amice mei,

Is mise do chara buan*,

~~~~~

* Take care! [Gaelic]
God be with you, my friend, [Latin]
Your friend forever[Gaelic].
Thanks to "Blair the Alien" for the proper Gaelic.

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