I understand shirking. Hell, I'd like to believe I've gotten pretty good at it over the years. After all, it would be nice to be good at something. But the truth is, I was probably born with this knack for shirking.
St. Isidore was not really a shirker, but his co-worker accused him of it. He was just a husband, a father, and a worker on a large farm -- a peasant serf sort of guy. The death of his son led him to believe that God wanted to live chastely with his wife and spend much of his time in religious contemplation. He began to attend Mass daily.
This was, of course, the problem. His co-workers began to grumble that he was sitting in church singing and praying while they were in the fields toiling and sweating. He ignored their complaints.
Then the Big Boss Man (the master, overseer, lord, whatever) showed up to check on these complaints. In truth, he found Isidore at Mass, but the plowing was being done by angels. (See picture, upper right). Tough to argue with that.
I doubt however that an angel graded those Cold War quizzes while I was posting this.
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