TRILOGY: Bk I, Ch 25 (Jackass for the Hour)

You look like such a jackass, just so useless

Shaykh al-Hasan’s promised ‘mosquitoes’ were actually homemade, man-powered, ultra-light aircraft. These had been moving along toward Plum Island just above the waves, having taken off from a barge that had been rented for the purpose. There were four operatives. Two of them, well-practised snipers, were now above the central bioterrorism research facility on the Island, and had just shot the guards outside the building, knowing the schedules to the second. They then dropped explosives around the building as a diversion until, according to their plan, they were killed, or until they killed themselves. Another, following them within seconds, exploded just as he landed on a predetermined part of the facility, destroying a small portion of the roof, though the hole went deep into the building. As the alarms sounded and the military island entered war mode in those few seconds, the final commando, with the most substantial aircraft, landed next to the destruction on the roof, and simultaneously threw himself into the gaping hole. He alone wore what looked to be a wet suit complete with air tanks, which would serve two purposes. He had attached himself to his aircraft by a thin, retractable cable before lifting off from their small barge. Before twenty seconds had passed, he had done what he came to do – hoping to have been protected by the wet suit and oxygen – and was already departing from the facility, returning to the barge. When the first two commandos saw that he was far enough away, they, as planned, blew themselves up in earth-rocking explosions at two other points next to the facility. Within thirty seconds, the remaining terrorist, now passing high over the beach, pressed a button on his phone, which he then destroyed and threw into the water. This phone call caused their rented barge, a half-kilometre offshore, to explode so forcefully that the shockwaves almost made his ultra-light aircraft stall. He detached the cable tying him to the aircraft and proceeded to the remains of the barge. What was left of it was burning as it sank, along with three Coast Guard gunboats which had already surrounded it. He dropped into the water in the midst of the wreckage and, making use of the scuba gear and air tanks a second time, swam down until he found the diving motor they had anchored to the bottom of the channel. He used this for twenty minutes, heading north-west, and then abandoned it in order to avoid detection by any submarine which would soon arrive to investigate.

Within a few hours, a bioterrorism alert went out to the world’s governments and news media, saying that, although no serious incident had occurred, a breach of security had taken place. The warning was made that people should acquire masks and stock a six-month supply of food and water. Although this put people into a panic for a few days, nothing seemed to come of the affair, and investigations were begun as to who would benefit from the production of the masks and bottled water, which were soon being advertised. The local populations on that part of the Sound and across the channel reported that they had heard explosions, but no pictures were taken of the destruction, as the air space was now more guarded than ever.

•••—•••—•••

A soldier with four years of service showed up at the church of San Lorenzo in Fonte at noon on that freezing February day. His superiors had told him how they had brought the priest to the temporarily abandoned church so that no one would know where he was. Father Alexámenos could be found, they said, locked in the ‘wine cellar’ of the church, whose entrance was just inside the entrance of the church, to the left. The soldier arrived dressed as a workman in a small vehicle, an Ápe 50, fitted with a small ladder and some paint buckets. He was to be the ‘gaoler’, the one who would feed the prisoner, keeping him alive for the trial. He grabbed a small bag, which had a piece of bread in it – he had forgotten to bring water – and entered the church through the adjacent residence, locking the doors behind him. Within the church, he saw the door to Saint Lawrence’s prison. It couldn’t be missed with the life-size statue of the saint next to it, and a sign over the door proclaiming it to be his prison and the site of the fount. He sorted through the key chain and eventually found the proper key. Opening this door, he came to a second. It was too dark to see, so he returned to the small building of the Oblates of Saint Joseph, whose entrance in the church was directly opposite the door to the cellar. He switched on all the electricity and lights, plugged in the space heaters he found, and turned on the water heaters. “At least they remembered to turn the electricity on, or maybe it had never been turned off,” he thought. He returned to the second massive door of the cellar and unlocked it. The door wouldn’t move. He threw his weight against it, budging it slightly. It was resting more on the floor than its hinges. He again threw all his weight against the door. This time it moved. He then shoved the door open. More keys were needed, this time for the metal gate. He tried to shove this open, but it seemed to be blocked. He shoved hard and pushed it open. He had intended to give his prisoner the bread, and then return to the residence. Instead, he gasped, dropping it to the floor.

Father Alexámenos, who had been sitting against the gate, had tumbled a few metres down the steps of the passage when the gate had been shoved open. He was already in a coma and did not come out of it even when he was kicked on his arm and subjected to a torrent of abusive language. The soldier then saw that his prisoner’s face was covered with cuts and blood. He checked for a pulse on his neck. He wasn’t sure if he felt it or not. He checked his eyes. The pupils were dilated. He was as cold as a corpse, and was soaking wet. The soldier knew his prisoner would die if he did not regain body heat soon, if he had not just killed him by opening the gate, knocking him down the steps, causing his heart to stop. He couldn’t get any medical help, as he was under strict orders not to let it be known that the prisoner was there. If he died, he knew it would be a bad mark on his otherwise perfect record. He would have to attempt to save his life, if just for his own sake.

He carried his prisoner to a bathtub he found in the buildings adjacent to the church, putting him in it just as he was. He turned on both the hot and cold water so that it was only slightly warm to the touch, pouring this over him continuously. A half hour went by. He checked his pulse. He still could not tell if he felt it or not. If his prisoner was breathing, it was so shallow it could not be perceived, even by holding a small mirror to his nostrils. It struck him that the pulse he thought he might feel on his neck was actually from his own fingers, and that he had been trying to bring a corpse to life for a half hour. This made him sick to his stomach, but he pulled the plug in the tub, draining it slightly, only to add some hot water, keeping the temperature just slightly warm. He recommenced pouring this water over the head of his prisoner. This went on for another half hour.

He drained more water, this time adding more hot water than before and, without knowing it, started to pray, in Hebrew, the same psalm which Rabbi Shelomoh had prayed for Father Alexámenos earlier: “Out of the depths…”

Father Alexámenos opened his eyes slightly. “Si!” exclaimed the soldier, whose career had just been saved. Father Alexámenos said nothing, nor could he, not yet. “My name is Eliyahu,” said the soldier, careless in front of someone who was defenceless.

Eliyahu drained the tub most of the way and let Father Alexámenos slide down to the bottom of the tub. He then went to the kitchen and found some packets of sugar, emptying them out into a cup which he filled with hot water from the tap. He brought this back, turned on the cold and hot water once again, pulling Father Alexámenos up into a sitting position, having him sip the hot sugar water. It was this, more than anything, which would have him recover from the hypothermia.

This went on for another hour, at the end of which Father Alexámenos began to shiver, a little at first, but then uncontrollably for a full forty minutes. This became more sporadic before ceasing altogether. The room was now quite hot. The bar heater had been on its highest setting the whole time. Seeing that Father Alexámenos could keep himself from sliding underneath the water, Eliyahu went through the cabinets in the various rooms of the residence until he found a heap of tools, among which was what he was looking for, a small grinder. The building was always in need of repair. He took this, as well as a chair.

“Sit on the edge of the tub with your feet in the water,” said Eliyahu. Father Alexámenos just looked at him without emotion. “I see,” said Eliyahu, grabbing Father Alexámenos under the arms and pulling him up. This was not easy, as Father Alexámenos was almost dead weight, being able to help Eliyahu only slightly. He was, however, able to sit without falling. Eliyahu slid the seat of the chair under Father Alexámenos’ handcuffed hands, seeing their mangled, bloody condition for the first time, that some of the fingers were clearly fractured. He leaned over to look at the face of his prisoner again, not understanding why he wasn’t complaining about his hands. “You must have a high threshold of pain,” he said. Eliyahu plugged in the grinder, and quickly cut through the chain of the handcuffs. Eliyahu lowered him into the tub, saying, “You’re free,” not intending to be sarcastic, and not yet realising the spiritual freedom Father Alexámenos now enjoyed. Eliyahu didn’t mind being especially humane when it seemed useful, so he said, “You look like such a jackass, just so useless, just like me when I was hazed during my first night in the military.”

He saw Father Alexámenos’ eyes come to life, as if he wanted to laugh, though he winced in pain instead. Eliyahu thought he could safely put more hot water in the tub than he had before. Since the water was so dirty, he drained the tub completely. “I didn’t know that boiling an ice-cube was possible,” said Father Alexámenos haltingly. His speech was almost unintelligible.

“You had a touch of hypothermia… probably no frostbite though,” Eliyahu replied. “What’s your name?”

“Father Alexámenos,” was the reply.

•••—•••—•••

That afternoon, don Hash went to San Lorenzo in Lucina, where the gridiron on which Saint Lawrence was burnt was kept as a reminder of the Charity of the Lord which the saint lived, a life stronger than death. He knelt before the Blessed Sacrament and, this time, felt entirely empty, as if he were nothing, distant from the Most Holy Trinity. “Who would I be, the one burnt or the one lighting the fire?” he asked in his prayer once again. He let these words hang before the throne of the Most High, knowing that his words had arrived there, spoken as they were, in dependence on grace. The ten minutes of his Penance seemed to take an eternity. Only at the end did he begin to realize that worldly fires meant nothing. The only important fire was that fire eternally issuing from the throne of God, purifying those who wanted to receive this merciful purification, but devastating hell for those who rejected this Charity who God is. He “knew” he was being nurtured by these flames of the Most Holy Trinity, a Purgatory and Pentecost at the same time. He spontaneously offered his own purification during his own earthly pilgrimage for those who would also accept these flames of Charity while on this earth, as well as for those who, in Purgatory, hadn’t been as generous with this fire as they could have been before they died. They needed to know how to thank the Lord more for their redemption and salvation, just as he was learning to do himself.

Don Hash continued his pilgrimages over the next few days, finally fulfilling his penance, the best one he ever received in his life. It was truly medicinal. He prayed for his Confessor, padre Emet….who, he thought, must be praying for him as well…

•••—•••—•••

Having drained the water, Eliyahu saw the reason why the water was so dirty. His prisoner still had his sandals on. When Eliyahu took them off, he noticed that there were cuts on his toes which had dirt and oil ground deeply into them when Father Alexámenos had been dragged along the subway tracks. He shook his head in disgust, thinking he had to clean the wounds lest they get infected, requiring a doctor.

“Are you some kind of Catholic priest?” asked Eliyahu. “You’re dressed like one.”

Father Alexámenos nodded his head that this was the case.

“Right,” said Eliyahu, and then, with some aggressiveness, “I’m a Jew.” This declaration elicited no reaction from Father Alexámenos that he could see. “Right,” he repeated, thinking. As he scrubbed Father Alexámenos’ feet, knowing the pain it must have caused him, Eliyahu said, “Let me explain to you the theology of washing feet.” Here he was, a Jew, telling something to a Catholic priest, which he knew the priest should preach about every Holy Thursday at the Mass of the Lord’s Supper. Eliyahu had often slipped into the churches of Rome during Holy Week to hear the homilies that would be given. He never heard any blaming of the Jews for the death of Christ as he expected. He was dismayed, however, at what he thought was trite nonsense about the symbolism of social service being expressed through the cleansing of feet. Corporal works of mercy were important, he knew, but there was another symbolism at work. This was his opportunity to teach a Catholic priest a lesson.

Eliyahu spoke of the Garden of Eden, how the serpent would have to eat the dust to which the body of Adam would return on account of his having sinned at the Serpent’s instigation. He then contrasted this dust cursed by God with the ground around the burning bush, which had been made holy by the presence of the Most High, a reason for Moses not to wear sandals. The ground had been taken out of the realm of Satan. Seeing that Father Alexámenos nodded his head in agreement, Eliyahu continued, speaking of Jesus commanding his disciples to kick dust off their feet if their preaching was to be rejected by any village, symbolising that the dust of Satan was being kicked back in their faces. He then spoke of the Last Supper, when Jesus washed the feet of the disciples and said that his Apostles were to imitate this humble service, which referred especially to the cleansing of people from Satan’s presence as part of the proclamation of the Kingdom of God. “Not all the Apostles were clean; Satan entered Judas.”

“Thank you,” said Father Alexámenos, struggling to pronounce the words. “God bless you.”

Eliyahu looked at him with curiosity, not knowing if he had a Judas priest in front of him. He had seen the news stories earlier in the day, but had seen enough setups in his few years of service to know these could be false accusations. He wasn’t going to judge anyone. The trial would sort things out.

“Stay here,” commanded Eliyahu needlessly. He then left Father Alexámenos so as to go and buy some groceries at the shop a couple of hundred metres down Via Cavour, returning in minutes. He heated the soup he had bought in the kitchen and fed this to Father Alexámenos, who could not even hold a spoon in his mangled hands. When he was finished, he said, “I’ve put plenty of people in the hospital, but I’ve never taken care of anyone… but I know that the best place for you is bed.”

With that, Eliyahu lifted Father Alexámenos up to the edge of the tub, and then dragged him out, trying to get him to stand, which he just managed. Eliyahu stripped him of his wet clothes. “What happened to you?” Father Alexámenos didn’t say anything. “These scars aren’t recent,” Eliyahu surmised, “and they’re not from any accident. You’ve been tortured. Either you’re too evil, or too good, or you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Father Alexámenos started to lose his balance, and so used his forearms to lean on Eliyahu. This didn’t help. He didn’t have the strength to stand, and so sat down on the edge of the tub. Eliyahu kicked the wet clothes out of the way, went back to the ‘Mission Room’ he had seen piled high with clothes for the missions and then returned, putting what he found on his prisoner.

As Father Alexámenos was being dressed, he reached out an injured hand and touched the end of what was one of a few strings hanging out from underneath the shirt of Eliyahu. Father Alexámenos knew that they were tassels of a prayer shawl worn by orthodox Jews. He thought that he would tell Eliyahu something about these tassels being a reminder to keep the Law as mentioned in the Law itself, thus returning the favour of Eliyahu’s instruction on the dust of the earth. “In the Gospels,” explained Father Alexámenos, struggling to talk, “a woman who had a haemorrhage for twelve years came up to Jesus and touched just such a tassel of His cloak. She was healed instantly because she believed that Jesus was innocent, the only one of all of us who was actually keeping all of the Law always.” He said all of this in Modern Hebrew, for he had heard Eliyahu’s prayer for him in Hebrew before he opened his eyes.

“Metzûyān!” exclaimed Eliyahu, impressed with this priest. “Time for you to go to bed,” he said, carrying the priest to one of the bedrooms. He threw a pile of blankets on him, careful to leave his broken hands on top. Father Alexámenos thanked Eliyahu and asked it he could soon offer Mass in the church. Eliyahu didn’t answer this, but just said, “I’ll take care of your hands later,” closing the door behind him. He went out to a chemist to buy some bandages and something for pain. Sleep was a cure-all, but no one could sleep with too much pain. The last thing he needed was for Father Alexámenos to get pneumonia. He was guessing that he might have some broken ribs as well. Eliyahu also brought Father Alexámenos’ clothes to be cleaned, taking the Fisherman’s Ring out of the top breast pocket of the cassock beforehand, examining it with curiosity.

Eliyahu knew what the accusations were against Father Alexámenos and that the whole world seemed to be against him. But it struck him that, had a picture been taken with the scene in the bathroom, when Father Alexámenos, naked, had tried to balance himself by leaning on him, the caption could have been terrible, reading, “Naked priest attacks worker.” “He could very well be innocent,” he thought. He vowed to take good care of the priest, not only for the sake of his own career, but just in case he was innocent.

When Eliyahu returned, he stopped in the kitchen to get a wooden spoon, and then into the bathroom to get the grinder. In the bedroom, he saw that Father Alexámenos was still awake, as predicted. Eliyahu threw the bandages on the bed, plugged in the grinder, and shoved the wooden spoon under the manacle of one of his hands. The grinder made quick work of the handcuffs. He then placed bandages on his feet, wrists, hands and most of his fingers.

Almost two weeks went by with Eliyahu taking care of Father Alexámenos. Every day, Eliyahu’s superior would come, also dressed as a worker, to check that the priest had not broken out. He was unconcerned with Eliyahu’s report of hypothermia, broken bones and chronic shallow breathing. During these visits, Eliyahu would lock Father Alexámenos in the cellar.

•••—•••—•••

The Ambassadors of the United States and Haïti in Italy, as well as Italy’s Secretary of State, finally met with Cardinal Elzevir at the Haïtian Embassy on Via di Villa Patrizi. They were complaining to Cardinal Elzevir that they were under a great deal of pressure from the Arab States to ensure that Father Alexámenos was punished severely. Cardinal Elzevir, who was always loyal in these situations, reported that the Holy Father, who would like to judge the case himself, could not sentence Father Alexámenos without a trial. They replied that they were quite pleased that the Pope would like to judge the case, and accepted that there had to be a trial.

“His Holiness is unaware of the location of Father Alexámenos,” complained the Cardinal.

“You can have him,” said the Italian Secretary of State, “if you guarantee a public trial.”

“That is acceptable to the Holy Father,” said the Cardinal.

“The transfer will take place tomorrow,” said the Italian Minister.

•••—•••—•••

During these weeks, Eliyahu and Father Alexámenos had discussed religion in Rabbinic fashion, with question being answered by question. Eliyahu referred to his rabbi as Rashi, so, Father Alexámenos, after some days, said, “Rashi was a great Jewish exegete of the middle ages.”

“That wasn’t his real name,” said Eliyahu. “It’s an acronym. My Rabbi shares the same name. He hates it when we use the acronym with him since he says that he’s not worthy to be called after Rashi. We’ve also nicknamed him ‘Ben-Nato’ since the election of Pope Tsur-Ēzer.”

“Why?” asked Father Alexámenos.

“Your Greek is not very good is it?” joked Eliyahu.

Father Alexámenos knew Attic, Koine and Modern Greek, but still didn’t understand.

“I’ll leave that one for you to figure out in a quiet moment,” said Eliyahu, “but you should know what I’m talking about. It shouldn’t have to be a riddle.”

Eliyahu would speak to Father Alexámenos about the questions which Rabbi ‘Rashi’ was presenting to his students. The present question was the list of the books of Scripture. Father Alexámenos guessed that Eliyahu’s Rabbi was his companion on the plane, Rabbi Shelomoh, so that ‘Rashi’ was short for Rabbi Shelomoh ben Yitshaq. Part of the conversation that Father Alexámenos had with the Rabbi on the plane covered similar ground. Father Alexámenos related some points which the Rabbi had made. Eliyahu was impressed again, but then Father Alexámenos confessed that the insights came from Rabbi Shelomoh, not himself.

“He’s an intellectual giant and charismatic leader in his own right,” said Eliyahu, “whose Faith is lived out in every aspect of his life. He puts many of us to shame. He’s encouraged us to have a living Faith, pushing us beyond suffocating political correctness.”

“Many of us Catholics have been asphyxiated for decades,” replied Father Alexámenos.

Eliyahu was amazed that the priest in front of him, accused of such horrible crimes, was speaking in the same way as his revered Rabbi. He knew that they had spoken on the plane, but it was, in fact, all too much. After a week, Eliyahu would lock up Father Alexámenos in the cellar for short periods so that he could go and speak with Rabbi Shelomoh. It took no time to go to the Jewish Ghetto, by going past the Mamertine prison – where three famous Jews had been imprisoned, Simon Bar Ghiora and Saints Peter and Paul – then running up the Scala dell’arce Capitolina, past Romulus and Remus, down the staircase on the other side of the Capitoline Hill, and taking the shortcut next to Portico di Ottavia. Eliyahu could not tell the Rabbi that he was Father Alexámenos’ gaoler. The questions of Eliyahu were, however, so much like the conversation he had had with Father Alexámenos in the plane that the Rabbi suspected this to be the case. At the end of a week, the Rabbi’s curiosity got the better of him. He saw Eliyahu to the door, watched him turn the corner, and closed the door, only to open it a few seconds later so as to follow him. When Eliyahu arrived at San Lorenzo in Fonte, he had trouble with the keys of the door, giving the Rabbi a chance to catch up. As Eliyahu was going into the church residence, the Rabbi entered behind him.

“You cannot come in here,” said Eliyahu, afraid of the consequences, which could be severe.

“But I must speak with Alexámenos,” said the Rabbi.

“I’ve never said anything about him,” said Eliyahu, unwittingly revealing the truth.

The Rabbi ignored him, walking further into the residence. Eliyahu locked the door behind them, shaking his head. They then entered the church. Eliyahu was going through the key chain, about to open the door leading to the cellar, but the Rabbi, staring at the far end of the church, tapped his shoulder. Eliyahu followed his line of vision. They saw Father Alexámenos offering Mass as Eliyahu had permitted him do every day. Eliyahu, knowing that he had forgotten to lock the doors, was relieved that Father Alexámenos had not escaped, but was worried that the Rabbi’s presence would get them all into trouble. As they went up to the main altar, he said, “Your conversation with him on the plane is the reason why he’s here in the first place.”

The Rabbi was not paying attention to Eliyahu, but was looking intently at Father Alexámenos. They walked up to the altar and saw what they could not understand. Father Alexámenos was holding up the Host, clearly seeing something which they did not see. He was witnessing, in Jesus, in the Blessed Sacrament, the reality that all things work for the good of those who believe, whether tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, the sword, death, life, angels, principalities, the present, the future, all powers, height, depth, everything in all creation. This reality brought him to understand more fully the saying of Jesus that, when we arrive in heaven, we will not have any bitter questions to make. This brought him to understand more of the crushing and, at the same time, uplifting truth of Jesus, God, offering Himself in sacrifice so as to fulfil the righteousness of justice in having mercy on us.

After half a minute, Father Alexámenos was able to lower the Host to the Altar and genuflect. The scene was repeated with the Chalice. His sotto voce voice was loud enough to be heard by Rabbi Shelomoh and Eliyahu. The Rabbi knew the Latin Mass well. After these weeks, so did Eliyahu. They were impressed that virtually every word of the Mass was to be found in the Bible, most of it in the Jewish Scriptures, with references to Sacrifice, to Abraham, to Melchizedek.

The Rabbi was an expert in classical and ecclesiastical Latin. He was studying the documentation of the reign of Pope Pius XII in the Vatican’s Secret Archives, for that period of time was now being opened to perusal. He wanted to read everything first hand, not depending on translations, which could very well be biassed one way or the other. Eliyahu had learned Latin by attending the Latin courses near the Pantheon, as did many of his fellow Jews, though Eliyahu, with a special permission, had begun the course immediately after his bar mitzvah. Eliyahu could speak Latin fluently, surpassing the other students, who were mostly Catholic priests and nuns.

When Mass was finished, they saw Father Alexámenos having difficulty taking the vestments off in the sacristy and helped him. His hands were still in a bad way. The Rabbi said, “The media is making you into the heretic of heretics and the leader of immorality. You’re a scapegoat. All scapegoats are put to death. I want to know why they are claiming you to be a heretic. Is it because of your view on the would-be sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham? The Roman Curia has been smothering me in these days with half-truths about child-sacrifice in the Jewish Scriptures. It sounds to me like they are doing damage control on behalf of Islam. They’re scared to death about our conversation in the plane about the would-be sacrifice of Abraham’s young son in both Genesis and the Qur’an. ‘Everyone is nice,’ they keep insisting.”

“That has something to do with it,” replied Father Alexámenos. He then explained his study.

“But they can kill you for saying that,” said the Rabbi.

“But Rabbi, it must be this way. The last thing I want to seek is martyrdom, which, then, isn’t martyrdom, but entrapping people into killing you. Instead, I witness about what I believe, and if that leads to my death, then…”

Violent blows against the doors of the church interrupted Father Alexámenos.

•••—•••—•••

Eliyahu went to see who was outside, but the soldiers had already forced open the church doors, not knowing enough to ring the bell on the residence next door. The wood was so old that the doors gave way, despite their having bars – two vertical and one horizontal – holding them in place. Four soldiers in full uniform came in with the Red Crystal, an ad hoc offshoot of the Red Cross. Many more soldiers were outside. All the media were there. Since two weeks had gone by, the Red Crystal complained, gaining publicity, that they had not seen Father Alexámenos; they said they wanted to check on his health and give him letters from his bishop, family and others. The Italians agreed, having secured a guarantee of a public trial from the Holy See.

Padre Emet and don Hash, who had been following the news closely, also found their way to the little church. Both were wondering about the significance of the site.

“Saint Lawrence was imprisoned here,” said padre Emet.

“Before he was burnt to death,” added don Hash. “I hope I do not have to light any fire.”

“It is the Lord who came to cast fire upon the earth, the fire of His mercy, purifying some, but destroying others who reject It, who reject Him,” replied padre Emet, always consistent.

Finding Rabbi Shelomoh inside was embarrassing for the soldiers. This would feed Islamic discontent within Italy and elsewhere. Eliyahu was told he would be severely punished.

The soldiers put handcuffs on Father Alexámenos, ignoring the bandages still around his hands. He was grateful that they did not put his hands behind his back to do this. Father Alexámenos asked the Red Crystal to put the letters they brought in the breast pocket of his cassock, which once again contained the Fisherman’s Ring. The soldiers brought him outside and told the media that Father Alexámenos would be transferred to the care of the Holy See. Many groups were there to protest against the presence of the priest in Italy, but then they protested even more vehemently that he would be given over to the Holy See, saying that this would just encourage another cover-up. The soldiers said that they were merely following orders.

Bishop Athanasius had come to Rome a week before, and was now in front of San Lorenzo in Fonte, but had been violently pushed away by the protesters.

The soldiers put Father Alexámenos in the military transport, letting don Hash and padre Emet get in as well. The soldiers knew that these two clerics now had special clearance.

Since the media had stationed some of their cameramen at the end of Via Urbana and up Via del Boschetto, the soldiers turned up through Piazza Zingari, winding their way up the hill through the steep labyrinth of streets. On Via Panisperna they passed the church built over the spot where Saint Lawrence had been burnt. “How providential,” thought Father Alexámenos. Leaving Via Milano, they went through the tunnel and then raced high above the city along Viale Trinità dei Monti, leaving the media far behind. They had no problem crossing the river and then circling Vatican City. They turned into the Vatican through the gate behind Domus Sanctæ Martæ. The Vatican guards would not allow the military vehicle to enter, and stopped them there. Having grabbed the chain of the handcuffs, one of the soldiers promptly dragged Father Alexámenos out of the vehicle and onto the pavement. Don Hash and padre Emet quickly followed him out, taken aback by the unwarranted violence. The soldiers left immediately, refusing to unlock the handcuffs. It was not their duty to unshackle a prisoner, merely to deliver him, perhaps alive. The soldiers had seen that some tourists were watching the transfer, and wanted to prove that Italy couldn’t care less about the fate of Father Alexámenos, especially after the Rabbi had been found at San Lorenzo in Fonte. It was a statement of damage control.

The Swiss Guards had a vehicle waiting for the transfer, and brought all three priests to the Courtyard of Sixtus V in the Apostolic Palace. They were taken by other Swiss Guards to the lift, bringing them up to the Papal Apartment as was requested by the Pontiff himself.

Upon arrival, the Holy Father, without greeting them, asked don Hash why Father Alexámenos was still shackled. Father Lia-Fail had the Vatican police come to remove the cuffs.

For almost two hours Father Alexámenos answered the questions of the Holy Father about his time in Pétionville, Port-au-Prince and, finally, San Lorenzo in Fonte. But then Cardinal Elzevir came to the apartment, asking to speak with the Holy Father. When he entered, he ignored don Hash, padre Emet and Father Alexámenos, telling the Pope about the crowds protesting below in the piazza, and commenting that the symbolism of keeping Father Alexámenos within Vatican City itself was horrific. The media were making the best of this and, indeed, had spent these hours doing their best to incite a public outcry about the transfer of Father Alexámenos.

“Oh dear Lord…” Father Alexámenos prayed.

“Your Holiness, I have arranged, if it be pleasing to you,” began the Cardinal, “that Alexámenos is to be kept in custody at the Papal Apartment on top of Castel Sant’Angelo. That would deflect media attention. He would be in Italy. The symbolism of him being there does not hurt us either, for that is where Popes Alexander VI and Clement VII fled during persecution.”

“I am fully aware of what my predecessors have done or not done, Elzevir.”

The Holy Father walked over to the window and verified for himself what the Cardinal said about the crowds below.

“The Italians want to use effective methods of crowd control,” added Cardinal Elzevir.

“Absolutely not!” exclaimed the Holy Father. “They only want to look efficient.”

“Castel Sant’Angelo and its surrounding park is already being closed down for the duration of the trial,” reported the Cardinal. “Given the fact of the above-ground Passetto between Castel Sant’Angelo and the barracks of the Swiss Guard at Porta Sant’Anna, it will be a convenient residence while the trial proceeds in the Paul VI Audience Hall.”

“An announcement is to be made in the piazza that there will be a press conference in the Paul VI Audience Hall for members of the Holy See Press Corps,” said the Holy Father. “Both the new residence of Alexámenos and the date of the commencement of the trial – whatever date is convenient for all concerned – are to be announced.”

After Cardinal Elzevir left, Father Alexámenos recounted to them in more detail the friendship he had with Rabbi Shelomoh and Eliyahu, and how the discussions had centred on child-sacrifice, from Abraham to the Holy Mass. The Pontiff did not respond, remembering his own discussions on this topic with Shelomoh when they were still boys.

Instead, the Pope pointed to the bandaged hands of Father Alexámenos. Since there was a small medical clinic in the Papal Apartments, the Holy Father sent Father Lia-Fail to summon his own doctor as so to care for him. The doctor discovered that he had two fractured ribs and many bones broken in his hands. He also found that his lungs had some fluid in them, giving Father Alexámenos a kind of walking pneumonia. When he noticed that Father Alexámenos could hardly lift his upper arms and saw the wounds on his wrists, he surmised the abuse he had received from the handcuffs. He didn’t ask Father Alexámenos about the scars he bore, seeing they were old.

“The ribs will take some time to heal,” he reported. “The same goes for your hands,” he added as he re-bandaged them with splints. “I can’t believe you weren’t brought to a hospital.”

•••—•••—•••

Afterward, Father Alexámenos was escorted by don Hash and the Swiss Guard to Castel Sant’Angelo. The passageway from the barracks of the Swiss Guard to Hadrian’s funerary monument – which had been turned into a fortress and now into a prison – had already been cleared and secured by the Swiss Guard in cooperation with the Italian Military.

After they arrived at the top of Castel Sant’Angelo and the Swiss Guard had taken their posts to protect the prisoner, Father Alexámenos asked don Hash to take out the letters that the Red Crystal had placed in the breast pocket of his cassock. He read the good wishes from his bishop, his family and friends. He also read some letters from those who wished to condemn him or pray for his conversion. He prayed for all of them, thoroughly understanding their concerns with the images that they had seen, as well as their thirst for effective interreligious dialogue. There were also many who sent letters stating that they were in the process of sending petitions to the Pope in his favour. Father Alexámenos particularly regretted these letters. The petitions could only do him damage, as if the petitions had been instigated by himself.

•••—•••—•••

The press conference had been announced immediately over the loudspeakers in Piazza San Pietro. Members of the Press would be allowed into the Paul VI Audience Hall for the conference to be held within two hours. Many hundreds of reporters had been newly accredited in those weeks. Cardinal Fidèle arrived just before this time had passed. The announcement was simple, and there were no questions allowed. The scheduling for the trial was such that the media would have time to run the story continuously, building it up to fever pitch, without danger of anyone losing interest. This care was hardly needed, for the drama was continuously fuelled with staged ‘Arab unrest’ daily depicted in flag burning and statements which they thought surpassed those of Father Alexámenos for their inflammatory effectiveness.

“By agreement with those concerned,” said Cardinal Fidèle, “the first session of the trial will be held here in the Paul VI Audience Hall on Monday morning, in two weeks’ time. Prosecutors are ecclesiastical and civil. The accused has opted to defend himself. He has two people for his counsel. All sessions are open to the public. However, members of the press who are registered with the Press Office of the Holy See will be given preference.” Cardinal Fidèle then added his own comments, praising the media for what he called their honesty and accountability.

•••—•••—•••

The two weeks passed quickly. A large crowd of reporters were lined up outside the Holy Office to go through the security screening within the colonnade of Piazza San Pietro. The process would not begin until 7:00 A.M., but they had been there for hours, hoping to be rewarded with good seating in the Paul VI Audience Hall. The line would make a U-turn through the colonnade, backtracking to the gate next to the Holy Office. The reporters all had their specially issued passes in hand. The first session of the trial was set to begin at 10:00 A.M.

The reporters and technical crew of Vatican Radio were already in their glass-enclosed rooms high above the left side the Audience Hall. Reporters from l’Osservatore Romano were taking their seats in the front row down on the floor of the Hall itself. They soon found that they had the worst seating in the house, for they could hardly see through the tangle of large tripods being used by the major television networks of the United States and Europe which had been allowed, as an exception, to invade the Hall. This was in accord with the recommendations of the United States Episcopal Conference to be open and accountable.

Father Alexámenos was anything but a hero, and the Americans were following the pitches given to them by the media, who were saying that they could be heroes themselves by rallying against the American priest. Some reporters were conjecturing that Haïti – a volatile country with a perpetually weak government – wanted the Holy See to judge the priest in case its citizens, who were mostly Catholic, had a different view of Father Alexámenos than did the government. Some news anchors were also speculating that Italy and the United States were using the Holy See in order to get out of the impossible problem created by Rabbi Shelomoh supporting the priest even while the Arab states were calling for his blood.

Not all the television cameras were inside. For variety, some were in Piazza San Pietro, reporting on the progress of the avian flu in Europe. That morning, there was a large number of dead pigeons in the piazza. It was curious to see a cameraman kneeling down to get a shot of the last, strained breaths of a pigeon, even while the pilgrims were uselessly throwing bits of food at the few living birds as they would do in all other piazzas of the ‘Old World’. No one was afraid of the ‘bird flu’ any longer, but the media wanted to make as much of it as they could. People were filling the piazza, wanting to follow the trial on the large screens which had been standard fixtures of the piazza for many years.

Inside the Audience Hall, three tables had been set up on the high stage. Each was supplied with many microphones, mostly belonging to the media, though some were for the sound system of the Hall itself. Since it was a media event, all tables on the stage, though in a slight semi-circle, faced the audience and cameras.

The central table was reserved for Cardinal Francisco of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, who, in his role as the Grand Inquisitor, would officiate at the sessions. He would be flanked by his Archbishop Secretary.

On the far left – if one is facing the audience from the stage – was a table for the Prosecutors. Even farther to the left, and closest to the front of the stage, a small table was also added for Cardinal Fidèle, as had been agreed more than a month before. Opposite them, on the right, was Father Alexámenos, as well as don Hash and padre Emet. Although don Hash was a strategist and padre Emet the foremost canon lawyer in the Church, their services, at this point, were mostly for moral and spiritual support. Opposite Cardinal Fidèle’s table, a chair and microphone had been set up for any witnesses that either side might wish to have subpoenaed.

The scene at the back of the stage, which had dominated the Hall since its construction, had just been removed some days before, according to one of the first orders of the new Pontiff after his election. What had been there was an image of Christ rising out of primordial ocean crud – for there was no other way to describe it – so as to become a necessarily unapproachable, impersonal, cosmic figure of biological and spiritual evolution. He had a nice expression on His face, but it was all a meaningless expression of post-modern, pagan mythology, a fitting expression of the mistaken view so many had of Revelation, of the Word Incarnate, the Revelation of the Father. The new Pope had ordered that this ‘artwork’ was to be replaced by another ‘ocean’, but this time, a rich blue velvet curtain as wide and high as the entire expanse of the back of the stage. In front of this curtain were hung two items, a large Crucifix of San Damiano and, just below and to the side, an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe. The lights reflecting off the golden colours of the crucifix and the rays of the sun emanating from the Blessed Virgin were strikingly beautiful against this blue ‘ocean’, changing the entire atmosphere of the Hall. The scene spoke of God being with us, personally, making us part of His Holy Family, instead of a scene implying that God was making Himself absent, however nicely.

==================

Chapter 26 coming soon…

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© 2007-2008 Renzo di Lorenzo — All rights reserved

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