The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne (New York Review Books Classics)

by Brian Moore

Shortly before his death, Moore wrote, “there are those stateless wanderers who, finding the larger world into which they have stumbled vast, varied and exciting, become confused in their loyalties and lose their sense of home. I am one of those wanderers.“

He’s lonely, thinking of his old age like that. But how odd that he would discuss his private affairs without really knowing her at all. It was like something in a story, people meeting, struck by a common rapport, a spark of kinship or love. Although that was silly and she was being daydreamy again.

Ah, don’t worry, you’re okay, here in church with Miss Hearne, a fine woman, a lady, a pleasure to talk to her it is. But if she knew about me, Miss Hearne, if she knew about last night — ahh, I’m no good, drinking like that, pulling at that kid, but she was old enough though, what a build. Christ — I mean, Blessed Jesus Christ — why did I think that right in the church, an impure and filthy thought right in God’s house. O my God I am heartily sorry that I have offended Thee and because Thou are so good, I will not sin again. Not a mortal sin, no, I never, only tried to break it up, teach her a lesson, didn’t do a thing. Act of contrition, that’s absolution, couldn’t go to confession today anyway. Sunday, no confessions heard, if I die tonight, be in the state of grace. Say a rosary now, show my good intentions. Forget all that dirty thoughts stuff. This was religion. Religion was begging God’s pardon on a morning like this one when the drink had made your mouth dry and the thing that happened last night with the serving girl was painful to think about. It was making your Easter duty once a year, going to Mass on Sunday morning. Religion was insurance. It meant you got security afterwards. It meant you could always turn over a new leaf. Just as long as you got an act of perfect contrition said before your last end, you’d be all set. Mr Madden rarely thought of Purgatory, of penance. Confession and resultant absolution were the pillars of his faith. He found it comforting t...

Religion was there: it was not something you thought about, and if, occasionally, you had a small doubt about something in the way church affairs were carried on, or something that seemed wrong or silly, well, that was the Devil at work and God’s ways were not our ways.

She gave thanks then to the Sacred Heart that He had sent her the trials and tribulations of her last lodgings that she might move to Camden Street and meet Mr Madden and walk with him to Mass, and from him hear the secret things of his life. And she went up unto the altar of her Lord, her Lord who rejoiced in her youth. She sang His praises and she asked her soul why it was sad and why did it trouble her.