TRILOGY: Bk I, Ch 31 (Jackass for the Hour)

One of his trademark donkey brays

Father Alexámenos answered Sister Nice’s question about the names of his children in rapid succession, “Filmèna, Mari, Estè, Ev, Simon, Toma, Pòl, Jozèf, Pyè…”

“Wow!” she said, with her French accent.

“They are reflections of God’s presence among us,” continued Father Alexámenos, “each of them able to contain within themselves not only the whole of the universe, but the very indwelling of the Most Holy Trinity. I must admit, though, that there is a troublesome child, Nice by name.”

Sister Nice didn’t know how to reply to the statement of Father Alexámenos that he was the father of many children. Cardinal Fidèle came to her rescue, passing her a note.

When she read it, she was visibly relieved and newly confident.

“Tell us, Father Alexámenos, you’ve been lying all the time, haven’t you?” she asked, glaring.

“The eyes, again,” thought Father Alexámenos.

“Tell us about your wife,” she demanded.

“She’s beautiful, always young,” said Father Alexámenos. “She’s my immaculate bride.”
“What’s her name?” insisted Sister Nice.

“Holy Mother Church, of course,” replied Father Alexámenos. “I thought I made that clear.”

“You must be so lonely,” she replied. “Even ex-priests, to be happy, should get married.”

“Not so,” he said. “To know blessedness, they must learn what true religion is and repent. Otherwise, they will be as falsely married to their wives as they were falsely married to the Church with their false idea of the priesthood. Almost all priests who leave the priesthood to marry regret what they have done. The rest are bitter. None are happy. Those who continue to celebrate Mass after getting married are the most miserable. They left the priesthood with a contraceptive mentality, for they did not know that they were supposed to lead a multitude of souls to God, to be God’s children. Their priesthood was sterile. Their civil ‘marriage’ will be the same. Do you think that they will promote vocations to the priesthood as good parents? Your understanding of marriage attempts to destroy the fatherhood of priests. Men see your kind of attitude and stop going to Mass, becoming more effeminate themselves with their contracepting, aborting mentality.”

“You must be so lonely,” she repeated, overwhelmed at what she thought was tunnel vision.

“Most priests, who think they are lonely, are, of course, merely distraught over the dearth of faithful religious, Sister, a dearth of faithful priests and bishops, and because of seeing many sheep without a shepherd, many of whom, then, go astray. There is a difference between grief and loneliness. Truly lonely priests don’t know that they are married to the Church or don’t know how to pray… surely both. Looking only to themselves, they are in grave danger. They must get on their knees and see that they, as Fathers in the Family of Faith, are united to people of all time and places by offering the Holy Sacri…”

“And you do not think that you are ill in the head?” interrupted Sister Nice. “The names you gave us… they are all people in Haïti, many of whom we have seen in the pictures, aren’t they?”

“That’s right, my children in the Faith,” said Father Alexámenos.

“What does that mean… that you can abuse them? You are a sick man, Alex.”

“They are my children,” he insisted again. “I do not abuse them.”

“And how do you go about begetting these children, if I may ask such an intimate question?”

“By offering a Sacrifice,” he replied, deadly serious.

“I see,” said the Sister, with her phone in her hand. “This is some sort of religious ceremony, is it? Perhaps there is also a kind of birthing experience during the ceremony… is there?”

“A certain woman does, in fact, go into labour pains, yes. How did you know?” he asked.

“I’ve published on cultural anthropology,” said Sister Nice. “If you weren’t removed from Haïti, those children would have died in your ‘ceremony’. You’re a serial killer, aren’t you?”

The audience gasped, but Father Alexámenos was not offended, though distressed. He was calling to mind the child soldiers who had died in the rebel camp, often directly in front of him, their deaths being used by the rebels as ‘warnings’. He himself, so little at the time, had killed many adult prisoners, especially between his seventh and ninth years, though always with the guiding hand of another soldier over his own hand on the blood stained mallet that they used.

“I have a phone here,” said the Sister, holding it up. “I can have an ambulance here with a straitjacket for you within minutes. It will be fun. What I want, Alex, it that you answer a question. Now. I see I have your attention. Tell me, how many times have you conducted this religious ceremony of yours?” She was trying to use fear as a last resort, not imagining that some people have been freed from all fear, having come to know Love, the Charity who God is.

“Daily, since I was ordained a priest,” he replied calmly, “and more on Sundays.”

“Finally, I understand, Alex. You’re talking about celebrating Mass, aren’t you? The Child-Sacrifice is Jesus at the Last Supper and Calvary, and the woman in labour is Mary, suffering upon seeing Him die, interceding for us with her Son, and so much in anguish that it is as if, by her intercession, she is giving birth to the Church which He redeems. Is that right?” she asked, almost hysterical.

“Yes,” he replied, “I speak of the Sacrifice of the Mass. Jesus took the worst we had to give, and, thus fulfilling the righteousness of justice, had mercy on us, asking, “Father, forgive them…”

“But the Mass is not a Sacrifice! It is a meal!” she shrieked, now truly beside herself. She was under too much pressure; her coping strategies were failing. “Where have you been all these years? Are you insane?” she asked with a high pitched voice. “I’ve published recipe books for Mass breads using fruits and sprouts and soya meal… the good things Mother Earth offers. That’s not Jesus.”

“They are your own words,” replied Father Alexámenos.

“You think you’re ahead of your time, but you are behind the times,” asserted Sister Nice, insecure in her jingoism. “Get up to date. Stop turning the hands of the clock back.”

“I’m trying to get people to see that all time is centred on one time, the Hour of Mercy, the Holy Child-Sacrifice of the Mass,” he said, “so that our own time might be filled with the same…”

“You’re hiding your child abuse behind the Mass!” she exclaimed, incapable of appreciating the profundity of his words. “You say Mass and then sacrifice a child to your own whims!”

“Instead, I become their father when I offer the Holy Sacrifice,” replied Father Alexámenos.

“So the Mass is like a wedding, and the altar is a wedding bed. Is that right?” asked the Sister.

“In a certain sense, yes,” he replied. “The priest is the instrument of God, of Jesus, who gives Himself to His Immaculate Bride, the Church, in His Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity. He offers Himself to the Father as a propitiation for our sins. This justice and mercy is accepted as fragrant incense rising to the Most High. It is the Wedding Banquet prepared by our Heavenly Father, who witnesses the offering of His Son for us. That’s why a priest wears a chasuble, his wedding garment. It represents the yoke of matrimony, whose grace he prays to live well: Domine, qui dixisti, ‘Iugum meum suave est, et onus meum leve,’ fac ut istud portare sic valeam, quod consequar tuam gratiam…’ After all, the words of consecration are the unique wedding vows of Christ: This is my Body, being given for you now… This is my Blood, being shed for you now…”

“But there is no sin, no being ‘bad’. There is no wedding. Marriage is not a matter of conscience. My priest doesn’t wear a chasuble. There… is… no… Sacrifice…” Sister Nice iterated pedantically. “There was only an unfortunate event in Jerusalem thousands of years ago, just before which there was a happy meal. We celebrate that happy meal, not offer it in Sacrifice.”

“The problem, Sister, is that you reject that a priest is a Father who, first of all, must know that he, with the grace of God, would be a devoted father and spouse, and that, far from running away from marriage, the priest takes on another spouse, the Church, by which marriage the gifts he would offer as a natural husband and father are magnified. A priest does not renounce a wife and children; he is married through the Sacrifice of Christ. Because you do not accept this, you mock my own marriage to the Church. You mock my fatherhood for God’s children, whom I love.”

“I’m not mocking; I’m a helper. You’re like that old Jesuit who told me never to become a spiritual counsellor. But now I am a ‘spiritual-direction’ consultor for seven episcopal conferences. You’re a danger to yourself and others,” she insisted, holding up her phone. She pressed a speed-dial number and then held the phone to microphone for effect. The ringing sickly echoed emptily, coldly over the sound system of the Hall.

“O dear Lord,” prayed padre Emet and don Hash simultaneously. Cardinal Francisco merely watched. Father Alexámenos prayed silently, “Eternal Father, I offer you the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of your dearly beloved Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ, in atonement for our sins and those of the whole world. Have mercy on Sister Nice. Thank you for letting me speak of the Mass. I ask you, Father, in Jesus’ Name, to make credible these words. Please, act, even now!”

As he prayed this, a commotion grew at the entrance to the Hall, opposite the stage, even as she explained at length over her phone the reasons for forcibly committing Father Alexámenos.

•••—•••—•••

Archbishop Pòv had heard on Monday that this session of the trial at the end of the week would concern Haïti. He informed Simon and Toma, who were upset that they were being used to attack Father Alexámenos for a reason unknown to them. They didn’t like being used.

No one wanted to bring the Haïtians to Rome as witnesses. The Prosecutors thought that the images were damning enough, and wanted to spare the victims the ‘embarrassment’ of appearing in person, while the defence thought that the Prosecutors might humiliate the Haïtians, trying to get them to speak about abuse, and then counting their denial as symptomatic. Cardinal Fidèle had kept quiet about what he knew might be Father Alexámenos’ innocence.

Archbishop Pòv had Simon and Toma put sufficient pressure on the Nuncio, Archbishop Cromeu, to arrange expedited visas and travel arrangements for all the ‘victims’ to Italy. They knew that they had bargaining power to do this. They didn’t have to push hard, however, for it was quite impossible for the governments involved to refuse. They wanted to keep the information to themselves since they did not want to cause trouble in any airports.

At the request of Archbishop Pòv, Filmèna, Jozèf and Pyè, Estè, Ev, Pòl, Simon and the rest of the clan, as well as Leo and Toma, departed Port-au-Prince on Thursday, and had arrived at Fiumicino Airport in Rome early that Friday morning. Mari was not able to come since she was now too sick. Archbishop Pòv accompanied them, wanting to be helpful to his fellow Haïtians. He now knew Father Alexámenos was innocent. Since the circumstances were extraordinary, the Nuncio had contacted Father Lia-Fail alone. He, in turn, told the Nuncio to keep the matter quiet.

Father Lia-Fail arranged that a bus would pick up the group at the Airport and bring them to the gate of Vatican City next to Domus Sanctae Martae. He himself went to the gate and was there for their arrival, waving the driver through without having the bus stopped by the guards. Not knowing where to go, the bus driver stopped in the piazza near the fuel pumps. Father Lia-Fail entered the bus and directed the driver to go further up Vatican Hill. The Holy Father was waiting for them there. Only Filmèna and Jozèf knew the significance of the office held by the Pontiff, though the rest were overwhelmed by his presence. The purpose of this re-grouping was to give them time in private to get up to date on the session that morning. Instead, it was Filmèna who had to give them last minute updates of Father Alexámenos’ trouble. Filmèna had been following the session on the phone supplied to her by her daughter Mari. They had no time to lose. Sister Nice had already called an ambulance to take Father Alexámenos away to an asylum.

Pyè, who had hurt himself playing during the renovations of the new convent in the shantytown in Port-au-Prince, was limping badly, but did not want to be carried. “No!” he cried, escaping his father, Jozèf, who had swept him up in his arms so that the group could make quicker progress. The cry, however, was no tantrum. He limped as fast as he could, virtually jumping on one foot, disappearing behind some bushes. They all followed him, anguished that they would be too late to save Father Alexámenos. What they saw lifted their spirits. Little Pyè was sitting proudly on the top of the donkey grazing there.

Jozèf took hold of one side of its halter and the Holy Father took hold of the other side. The group then quickly walked down to the Paul VI Audience Hall. They met some guards on the way, but Father Lia-Fail instructed them that they needed no escort. The drama was at fever pitch inside the Audience Hall, and only two guards remained at the main doors. The guards couldn’t believe what they were seeing. The Holy Father held his finger to his lips from a distance, indicating that they were to keep silence. They did so, enjoying the scene. The donkey did not hesitate to go right up the steps and into the expansive lobby. The strange procession went to the central doors leading into the Hall itself and then entered with anticipation for the meeting they knew was about to take place. “Thank you, Jesus,” Filmèna whispered as they entered the doors.

It was just then that Sister Nice, staring across the stage at Father Alexámenos, had successfully concluded her request for the ambulance, looking at Father Alexámenos with a sense of triumph, a sense of confirmation for her whole life of ‘service’ to the Church. She was on top of the world. The world was hers. She had acquired the whole world. This historic moment, she reckoned, would confirm her way of using psychology in seminaries now and into the future.

Father Alexámenos, however, had been distracted by the noise on the opposite side of the Audience Hall. Seeing the Holy Father, Filmèna and the rest… and a donkey… Father Alexámenos leaned forward into the microphone and let out one of his trademark donkey brays that – given the excellent sound system – threatened to bring the Audience Hall crashing down. The eyes of Sister Nice, who was staring in disbelief at Father Alexámenos, were virtually popping out of her head, frightened that she might be in real danger. But then another braying sound filled the Audience Hall. It was just as loud, but there was no need for a sound system. It was the donkey upon which Pyè was riding. Sister turned to see the donkey, the Holy Father, and the whole clan of Haïtians. The Swiss Guards in the side room rushed out onto the stage to see what was happening, giving Carpe Diem an opportunity to come out onto the stage and start an incessant braying match with the donkey carrying Pyè. Father Alexámenos went down the steps, and went to meet his friends. The boys did their best to imitate the braying sounds, something they had done since Father Alexámenos had left their shantytown on another donkey now called by his own name more than a month before. Sister Nice didn’t even realise that the phone had slipped from her hands to the floor. She was in deep shock. Cardinal Fidèle saw her difficulty and, despite his own frailty, used the opportunity to escape, afraid that his clever plan of sending Father Alexámenos to the Nunciature would soon be revealed. He grabbed his cane and took Sister Nice by the arm. It was clear that she was now retreating into a catatonic shell. Despite her nervous breakdown, Cardinal Fidèle pushed her. She was then able to put one foot in front of the other, and they made their way down the steps on the far left side of the stage. They stood there, against the wall of the Audience Hall, watching the incredible scene unfold. They could not hide, however, for Carpe Diem joined them, and kept up the braying match with the donkey.

The cameramen spun their cameras around, following Father Alexámenos up the centre aisle. The crowd saw the Holy Father, but no one stood up to greet him. It was as if they were frozen in their seats. They recognised the faces of Simon and some of the girls and boys they had seen in the pictures.

Father Alexámenos stopped half way up the aisle. Little Ev had squeezed past the donkey and the others, and ran towards Father Alexámenos, but did not slow down. She jumped into the air, throwing her arms around his neck. Father Alexámenos was just able to set her down when Estè embraced him, followed, more solemnly by Filmèna and, then, the other girls.

By this time, the donkey had arrived directly in front of Father Alexámenos, and was lifting its head up to his face, sniffing and snorting, half braying. Jozèf and the Holy Father were about to greet Father Alexámenos, but he was not paying attention to them. Instead, he was looking over the head of the donkey. Jozèf and the Holy Father could not see that little Pyè, just behind them, was, despite his bad foot, now standing on top of the donkey’s back. Thinking himself to be indestructible, Pyè launched himself into the air over the head of the donkey, knowing that Father Alexámenos would be able to catch him. He did so, setting him down on the floor, only to be swamped by the other boys who had now shoved their way past Jozèf and the Holy Father, almost knocking Father Alexámenos to the ground as they had done in front of the brothel in their shantytown in Port-au-Prince. All of them, from Ev to Pòl, were again as happy as they had been so many weeks before. Finally, Father Alexámenos greeted Jozèf, the Holy Father, Archbishop Pòv and Leo, Simon and Toma. Father Alexámenos was particularly pleased to see Leo, knowing that there was even more good news to be heard.

When the crowd realised that the clan’s screams were not accusatory, but were, instead, shouts of happiness, they realised that Father Alexámenos must be telling the truth, and that there was a scam unfolding which was making Father Alexámenos into a scapegoat of some kind, or was creating a distraction to draw attention away from something else, discrediting him so that he would not be a serious witness for whatever it was. Their minds rushed to the accusations of heresy and uncharitableness to other religions, and knew there might be another story to dig up in Port-au-Prince as well. This whole scene had not taken more than thirty seconds. A collective wave of emotion registered in the minds of those present, bringing them as one person to their feet in applause in support of Father Alexámenos, rejoicing on behalf of mankind in his innocence. He had been making so much sense, and the manner in which he had been attacked in these sessions now suddenly struck them. They hadn’t realised just how vicious this was up until then, thinking he deserved it, and much worse… for he might very well have been guilty. But now, their disgust at such a presumption of guilt on the part of the tribunal only fuelled their applause and shouting in support of Father Alexámenos.

The media could only make the comment that none of them had ever seen anything like it, and that the priest was ‘apparently’ innocent of all charges laid against him, at least in relation to Haïti. Before the applause was over, however, they had already begun to speculate about his heresy and the negative moral consequences it would bring to others, not to mention the dangerous problems caused by what they continued to call inflammatory comments against Islam. Yet, the applause and the obvious joy on the faces of the Haïtian clan was overwhelming their comments.

Jozèf was about to lift Pyè onto the donkey, but a woman grabbed his elbow from behind. When he turned around, she was holding out the now famous banner of the previous session, which she had folded into a rectangle of one by two metres, indicating that he may want to place it over the back of the donkey. He thanked her, and did so. He then lifted Pyè up. The procession moved forward, coming to the cameras in front of the stage, at which point the donkey lifted its head, snorting at the lens of one of the cameras on a large tripod right in front of them. The donkey pulled away when the large lens turned to refocus. The donkey was not convinced of the benevolent nature of the camera, and gave it a wide berth, finally walking directly up the steps of the stage. Jozèf and the Holy Father were on either side of the donkey, and the others followed behind.

Cardinal Francisco and those with him immediately removed themselves to the side of the stage, and remained there, not knowing how to handle this unexpected presence of the Holy Father. Rabbi Shelomoh and Eliyahu were allowed by the Swiss Guard to come from backstage. The guards themselves were now needed to make sure everything remained orderly… inasmuch as this was possible. Padre Emet and don Hash had already come to join them. They were rejoicing in the Lord who rules all, sees all. The applause continued. Pyè climbed on to the shoulders of Father Alexámenos from the back of the donkey. Jozèf made sure that Father Alexámenos had a good hold of both of Pyè’s ankles, ensuring that he wouldn’t fall to the stage. However, Pyè soon jumped down, realising that the donkey needed to be tended.

Cardinal Fidèle and Sister Nice were still standing along the wall. Sister Nice had forgotten about her radio microphone. Their whispered comments could just be heard over the noise in the Hall and the braying of Carpe Diem and the donkey. “I don’t know who I am anymore,” she complained. “I’ve lost everything that I am. I had everything in my grasp. I have nothing. I was a blessing like the mountains and the sea. My insight grew. I was at one with mud and water…”

“Some people just do not know how do deal with relativism,” Cardinal Fidèle said quietly.

She stared at him, wild-eyed. He had seen it before. She was going to do something rash. He knew he would have to keep her busy until the ambulance came. The straitjacket would have to be used for her, for her own safety. “Let me tell you a story…” he began. He rambled on about nothing in particular until the ambulance crew spotted her. They knew her from past patients she had sent to the asylum with their help. When they came up to her, they asked if Carpe Diem, who was standing next to her and who was still braying like a donkey, was the one who they were supposed to take away. She did not respond, except to become more wild-eyed than ever. They looked to Cardinal Fidèle for direction, and he simply motioned with his eyes to her. They understood, and wrapped her in the straitjacket. She did not resist at first, but merely softly repeated their words to her, again and again, “It will be fun! Che gioia!” As they were bringing her out, she started braying and stomping like the donkey she had seen. She was now psychotic, laughing hysterically. They injected her with sedatives. No one on stage saw this; the crowd was ignoring them, but some cameras had swung in her direction to follow that part of the drama. Signora Gagno arrived, took Carpe Diem by the hand, and led him to the side room next to the stage, but he wanted to see the donkey up close.

Meanwhile, Leo gave Father Alexámenos a quick update on what was now happening in Haïti, including his own re-admission into the Seminary, of which Archbishop Pòv was now also the Rector. Father Alexámenos introduced Leo to the Holy Father, who blessed him as he knelt. The Archbishop asked for a blessing for the seminary, explaining that he had been inundated with hundreds of applications, for he was actually trying to lead the seminarians to Christ Jesus.

The Holy Father motioned to one of the technicians for the projector screen to be raised again, so as to reveal the crucifix and the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe. The Pontiff then motioned to the crowd, trying to bring their applause to an end. This didn’t work. Turning to the large crucifix behind them, and, remembering the story Father Alexámenos had told him up in the Papal Apartments, he said, “Merci, Seigneur, Jésus.”

The Haïtians repeated, “Merci, Seigneur, Jésus.” The crowd became quiet.

The Holy Father, turning to face the crowd once again, said, “The so-called ‘victims’ have something to say to us after their long trip from Haïti.” Everyone sat down. The Pontiff said, “Perhaps, Filmèna, you would like to begin.” He deferred to her, for she was so well-spoken and was obviously the matriarch.

But, in her unfailing wisdom, she said, “I think it is better to let the children have their say first.” Looking around the stage, she spotted Pòl, and said, “Take the microphone, Pòl.”

Pòl had never even seen a microphone before, and he could not get the concept of the distance it had to be from him, a problem even the most learned people have. The technician brought a small stand for the microphone, and had Pòl stand behind it. This trouble only increased his credibility. Pòl then enthusiastically recounted every moment of that night of grace in the shantytown in fine detail, not leaving anything out. He spoke in creole, but Cardinal Fidèle, deputed by the Pontiff, translated what was said into Italian. Pòl mentioned the scene with the machete, including why this had come about. Next, he spoke of the use of the Fisherman’s Ring and how he carried Simon to the brothel, looking for the help of Father Alexámenos. He spent much time on what life had been like for all of them under Simon’s control. He continued with his account of the various events that happened during the Rosary, the gift of the shirt to Estè, the scars on the priest’s body, the statue and the Cross, the exorcism and the gift of the trousers to Simon, the Confession of Mari while they sang, her Anointing and reception of Holy Communion, the greeting of the priest by the girls, the adults and the boys, the guns placed in a fire, the blessing of the houses, the donkey, and, after the departure of Father Alexámenos, the transformation of the brothel into a convent. He even mentioned the cleaning up of the area, the interviews they had with the news media – which made the media executives who were present cringe – and the freedom they had in Christ, whom they were now receiving in Holy Communion.

Simon told his horrific story of voodoo, destroying the lives of others, and of his demonic possession. He described the exorcism, the authority of Christ, the gentle power of the Blessed Virgin, the fearlessness of Father Alexámenos. He mentioned why the boys had been dressed with such loose fitting boxing trunks. He added details of breaking into the charity clothes distribution centre, and the picture which Father Alexámenos had found in his luggage. He described how the pictures of their own, recent, first Holy Communion had been placed alongside of his. He said that since the police would not imprison him, he was helping to renew the shantytown.

When it came time for Estè to tell her story, she draped the blood stained shirt of Father Alexámenos over her blouse. Everyone immediately recognised it as the shirt they had seen in the pictures. This image was in striking contrast to the one they had seen so many times. Estè, like all of the others, was wearing dignified, store bought clothes, paid for by the Nuncio. Estè described what it was like for her to have someone put clothes on her, instead of strip them off; “He treated me with such respect,” she said of Father Alexámenos. Tears of gratitude were streaming down her face. Father Alexámenos was quite embarrassed by all of this, for he knew that he had not done anything extraordinary. Clothing the naked was something anyone would do, or, at least, should do. Estè then embraced him again as she had done in Port-au-Prince, overcome with emotion.

Little Ev then took the microphone from Estè and stood facing the crowd, her chest heaving with emotion. She was not thinking of the trauma she had been put through by père Jacques, who, with five large needles, had used her as a living voodoo doll, a child-sacrifice. She didn’t need to say anything about this. Simon had already described it. Ev was, instead, thinking of Jesus, whom she had now come to know. “Jesus was pinned to the Cross with five large needles to save us from selfishness,” she said. “Nails and a spear,” she added, correcting herself. “God our Father loved the world so much,” she continued… But then she couldn’t complete the citation about the Father sending His only begotten Son into the world to die for us. Her voice was choked up. The words she had spoken, however, had the unmistakable tone of a plea, as if to say, “Please, please, believe in Jesus, His goodness, His kindness… otherwise, what is to become of us children?” This rent the hearts of those in the Hall.

Filmèna added an additional comment to her story, attacking the media. “You have all been prostituting my great great grandchildren by constantly showing those images. You think that you are all better than Simon, my daughter Mari, and all of these kids, but you are worse than the worst of pimps, for you make advertising money that is capitalising on their nakedness. How dare you do this to those redeemed by Christ, sacrificing these children to your own self interest!”

“Excuse me,” said a media tycoon loudly, standing up in the front row of seats, “but even some of your more forward looking Catholic bishops encourage abuse victims to publish their stories in detail as therapy and an exercise in justice. I look on our broadcasting as my mission.”

“Any bishops who do that, any members of the media who do that,” replied Filmèna, “are only abusing the vulnerability of victims. If victims want to speak to a worldwide audience in detail about such crimes, it is not therapy, but a reliving of the crimes with an audience. They hurt themselves, hating their attackers, themselves, and all those who opportunistically offer them pity. Instead of growing after such a nightmare, they are condemned to be tortured into the future.”

“Look…” said the tycoon, “the Episcopal Conference of the United States praises to the heavens even the most pornographic of our films. What, exactly, is the problem? And as far as any abuse victims go, you have to know that psychologists say…”

“Shame on you!” interrupted Filmèna. These children were not abused, and you knew it! You had the story the next day, but you wanted to make a spectacle of bare flesh, depressing and irritating your viewers, your voyeurs, manipulating and brainwashing them with pornographic sublimation so that they buy advertised products which they now depend on to make them forget their ineptitude as human beings. You assault the whole person. You rape the world. One thing is sure: you do not reverence the living God.”

“How can I bow before any God when there is so much abuse?!” he exclaimed. “Alexámenos is innocent, but many are not. We were just using him as an example. I’m an atheist.”

“Two wrongs don’t make a right,” said Filmèna. “And you’re no atheist. You hate God. I know that, because you hate your neighbour. You hate us, the poorest of the poor. You make money off us, but we’re not your slaves!” She was black. He was white. Her words made him sit down in shame. The cameraman and crew of his network risked their jobs that day, keeping the cameras on him, trying to humiliate him. His anguish was one of the most dramatic scenes that day.

The last one to speak was little Pyè, who remained on the donkey to tell his story. He recounted how he wanted to be a priest. His maturity was notable. He did not say, “I want to be a priest like Father Alexámenos,” but, “I want to be a priest just like Jesus, with Jesus.”

“Ex ore infantium et lactantium perfecisti laudem,” said the Pope, who then led everyone in a decade of the Rosary, the intention for which, he said, was for the trial’s successful continuation. Some issues had to be resolved regarding the alleged difficulties Father Alexámenos had with the Magisterium, ecumenism, interreligious dialogue, especially Islam, and Revelation as such.

When he started the decade, the fifth Luminous Mystery, the Last Supper, Pòl, the oldest teenage ex-male-prostitute, grabbed padre Emet by the elbow. Pòl felt drawn to padre Emet because of the friar’s down to earth sanctity. They went into the empty room to the side of the stage. Kneeling down, Pòl immediately said in French, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, this is my second confession. My first was last week. But even though I go to Confession, I still feel like a sinner. When I see a beautiful young woman, well, because of my experiences as a prostitute, my heart goes out to her, and I feel as if I’ve committed sin with her…”

“Pòl,” interrupted padre Emet, “such feelings and emotions, in themselves, are not sin, no matter how long a time they may last or however much of a distraction to you they are…”

“I know that,” said Pòl, “Filmèna gave us catechism lessons. It’s only sin if I go after the temptation. But maybe I am only fooling myself in thinking that I have left prostitution behind.”

“The effects of experiences can remain for some time,” replied padre Emet. “But, Pòl, this can help you to look to Christ Jesus. Knowing your weakness, you know not to depend on yourself, but on Him. He uses your experiences to help you grow from strength to strength even as God already dwells within you by grace. Be content that He works in His own way, in His own time. Any temptation you might have is no obstacle to the spiritual life. The real obstacle would be to run away from the way the Lord deals with you. All you need to do, in His grace, is continue to look to Him, however far away He might seem at any given time. Don’t react to the weakness itself, just look to Christ, knowing that you are bigger than your feelings and emotions, which now try to support fallen human nature in its lack of integrity. That’s a cross, but it is one all mankind carries. But that suffering of justice works for the mercy. It is an occasion to run to the Lord.”

“Thank you, Father,” said Pòl, who then said, “For my Confession, I accuse myself of all the times this past week – and there must be dozens of times – that I’ve let myself be bitterly resentful of others, especially some priests in Pétionville, as if I were better, even without God’s grace.”

“Pòl, forgiving those who have hurt you – especially those who abuse God-given authority – is absolutely necessary if you are to have any freedom of spirit before God, who does give you the grace to forgive, even if your feelings and emotions would try to make you do the opposite. Ask our Lord for this grace. He will give it to you every time. It is He who gives you the grace to ask. This will help to heal your emotions. You will be raised above the quagmire of rancour, desiring the salvation of others. Yet, these others must be punished severely.”

Padre Emet then gave Pòl a most appropriate penance, to pray, one time, the Lord’s prayer for all those who had scandalised and abused him throughout his life. After Pòl’s act of contrition, padre Emet absolved Pòl, declaring, “Ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris et Filii + et Spiritus Sancti.” They then began together, both in decidedly modern French: Notre Père qui es aux cieux… and ended with, et ne nous soumets pas à la tentation, mais délivre-nous du mal.

Just as the Holy Father was about to dismiss everyone with a blessing, the same media executive who had challenged Filmèna some minutes before came up from the audience and started to walk up the steps. He was stopped by two Swiss Guards who crossed their pikes in front of him. “Let him come up,” said the Holy Father. When he explained what he wanted to do, Filmèna said that he should say it over the microphone. All were agreed.

He tapped on the microphone a few times, and said that he had been shaken by the words of Filmèna, and that advertising money received since the beginning of the saga some weeks before would go to providing employment in the shantytown, along with food and water, clothing, medicine, sanitary conditions, schooling, and whatever else was needed. He added that no work contracts would be given to companies he owned. All work would be managed by the Haïtians themselves, training them for the work if necessary. “It will make Pétionville envious,” he added.

There was dead silence. As had been the case for Toma during that special night in Port-au-Prince, the crowd was waiting for something more generous. Padre Emet and Pòl came out from the room backstage just in time to see another moment of grace. The media tycoon took the hint, and asked everyone’s forgiveness, “Please, forgive me, everyone.”

“Just everyone?” asked Filmèna.

Filmèna took his arm and turned him around, pointing to the images of the crucified Jesus and of the pregnant Virgin Mary. She then let his arm go and stepped back as he looked up at Jesus crucified, accompanied by His Virgin Mother. All the others stepped back as well, as if the executive was being singled out by some divine fire. The cameras took a closeup of him, and then refocused on what he was looking at. The flashing gold of the images seemed to set the rich blue velvet on fire.

“I am sorry, Jesus and Mary,” he said softly.

“What is it you said?” interrogated Filmèna.

He turned to Filmèna, with a shattered, yet thankful look, and said, “I am…” purposely not finishing his sentence. With his microphone in hand, he walked up to each of the Haïtians he had been featuring on television and said, “I am sorry, Estè,” and so on, until he had apologised to each person individually. He had been attentive enough to learn each person’s name. He finished with Ev. Only then was he greeted with applause.

“Merci, Seigneur, Jésus,” Filmèna said.

“Merci, Seigneur, Jésus,” he repeated. He had considered himself to be an atheist, but was now finding himself attracted by this religion which went to the heart both of man and God.

Many in the crowd followed the tycoon’s example, donating to the shantytown, spontaneously setting up a fund. This generosity would prepare them for what was to come in the following weeks. The tide was only temporarily turned in favour of Father Alexámenos. It was the very success of the day that made the Muslims upset. They thought that it might be an excuse for people to forget what the priest had said about Islam and about Allah.

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Chapter 32 coming soon…

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© 2007-2008 Renzo di Lorenzo — All rights reserved

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