Blood Symbols

by Izak Botha

  Extremis malis extrema remedia: desperate times called for desperate measures. Was it not only yesterday Rabin had chided Jennifer for jumping to conclusions prematurely? Now he was guilty of the same thing and bluffing one of the most powerful men on the planet. What else could he do? This was not the time for hesitation. ‘At any rate,’ he thought wryly, ‘if the Church could make unsupported claims, why not he?’ At least, if it came to it, he had something to show.

  He breathed deeply and continued with assumed confidence: ‘It is for this reason Miss Jaine is with us. She is a guest journalist from Geographic America as I’m sure you are aware, having vetted her yourselves. This world-renowned publication has secured exclusive rights to our discovery, and in Miss Jaine’s absence, I have reported our findings directly to her editor.

  ‘So, to settle this absurd situation amicably and extricate the Church from its unfortunate predicament, I suggest a truce. Before the Church makes matters worse for itself by harming those responsible for the relic’s discovery—which, I assure you, will happen if the accused are harmed, as I have already apprised Miss Jaine’s editor of the present situation—you can still prevent a complete collapse of your faith. We can only hold back for a brief time, and I know it won’t be easy, but you can present yourselves as having been deceived and, with some minor modifications to your orthodoxy, inform the faithful while making yourselves out to be the unwitting victims of an ancient conspiracy. Our findings confirm every aspect of the Church’s tradition about Peter except his presence in Rome and, therefore, the Apostolic succession. They do not repudiate Christianity per se. Consequently, the only ones amongst you who should be bothered by this plan are those who thrive on wielding absolute dictatorial power over the faithful. Those of you whose earnest desire it is to maintain this Church as an expression of monotheism and who wish to continue helping those in need and doing the will of God as you see it—those have nothing to fear.

  ‘On the other hand, you can do as I’m sure the cardinal here wishes and eliminate me and the accused in secrecy, but the editor will call my office in Antakya this evening, and if I do not answer his call, he will run the story in their next issue and report our presence here to Interpol. I, meanwhile, will call Interpol myself if I leave here without the accused.’

  The College of Cardinals were listening intently. They were puzzled and ill at ease. Rabin’s report had stunned them.

  Of all the cardinals, Santori was the most sickened. Whether the professor was telling the truth was beside the point, the Vatican could not afford a scandal. But this has now gone beyond humiliation. Saint Peter’s true remains, meant they were doomed.

  ‘You forget, Professor, crimes have been committed against our Holy State,’ he said defensively. ‘This man killed one of our priests.’

  Rabin regretted it had come to this, but perhaps it was for the best. He had hoped for a settlement without bringing John into the equation. When the professor spoke, his voice was husky with sorrow: ‘Your Eminence, your priest was not who you think he was. Father John Yilmaz was a Jew from Antioch. His real name was John Kepa. He was Simon’s brother.’

  A silence, the likes of which the Apostolic Palace had never known, fell on the Regal Room.

  Rabin turned towards the College of Cardinals. ‘Simon and John grew up as orphans,’ he announced painfully. ‘Their grandparents cared for them. For decades, they were the best of friends until the Church drove a wedge between them. John’s longing to join the priesthood led to their estrangement. Believing that his older brother would not support his vocation, John found that your message of love and acceptance didn’t apply to his only remaining family, and it wasn’t long before the passion he felt for God’s work turned into bitter regret. Knowing that John was alone in his disillusionment, Simon came here to support him. That is why they broke into your vault.’

  Santori caught his breath and steadied himself. Satan himself and all the fallen angels might as well have been standing before them. John, a Jew and Simon’s brother? Now how could he explain the Father’s death? In a panicked attempt to save himself and the Church, he reached for Schreider’s pistol. Ripping it from its holster, he swung the firearm towards Rabin’s chest.

  ‘You will not succeed, Professor!’ he shrieked.

  Santori snatched Schreider’s pistol and viciously jabbed at Rabin with the gun’s muzzle.

  Simon leapt toward the two old men, but Schreider jumped in front of him. If anyone was sacrificing his life for the cause it was the colonel himself. He was not letting anyone take his place.

  The Helvetians had their machine guns aimed at the Maggiore’s chest, but Schreider signaled for them to stand down.

  Santori had dedicated his life to protecting and promoting the Church. No one would destroy his life’s work. The world depended on individuals like him. A world without faith—the faith of the Holy Roman Church—was not viable. ‘We are the voice of God!’ he cried. ‘The mightiest tradition the world has ever seen; not even the Egyptians or Aztecs compare.’

  Schreider had a feeling he was not going to live to see forty. He just hoped he would not die right that instant. ‘I suppose there’s no such thing as being prepared for death,’ he thought, staring down the barrel of his own pistol. If it were the last thing he did, he would not let the cardinal kill an innocent man. Then, he recognized something the coroner had drawn his attention to the previous day.

  His gaze remained on the cardinal, but he addressed the Bishop of Rome: ‘Your Holiness, the person that killed Father Yilmaz is left handed.’

  Shaking as he clutched the pistol with his left hand, Santori was trying to steady his aim. ‘Good try, Colonel. How would you know? You weren’t even there.’

  Schreider’s muscles clenched like a tiger preparing to spring. ‘Your Eminence, but neither were you …’

  The thought of not dying a traitor’s death flashed through Schreider’s mind. But would he die a coward. Silently praying that Santori would not squeeze the trigger, he stepped in to take the pistol from the elderly man, but the cardinal swung at him, narrowly missing the colonel’s face.

  Simon—a skilled student of Krav Maga—leapt towards Santori, seizing the cardinal’s hand and forcing the pistol towards the roof. A slug burst from the barrel, missing Schreider’s head by millimeters. The sound reverberated off the walls, deafening everyone in the hall. Before Santori could fire another round, Simon had pulled the cardinal’s arm down, twisting it behind his back and flexing his wrist. The move softened the cardinal’s hold, allowing Simon to tear the firearm from the old man’s grip.

  Santori struggled to free himself, but Simon proved too strong for his aging limbs. ‘Get off me!’ he moaned. ‘You’re hurting me!’

  Cardoni placed his hand on Santori’s shoulder. ‘Leonardo, don’t. Your madness will destroy us all.’

  Santori’s bloodshot eyes flickered momentarily towards his friend. ‘They’ll destroy the Church. We must stop them. We can’t let them do this.’

  Cardoni held his friend. ‘Let go, Leonardo. We have nothing left to lose.’

  Pope Gregory stood, looking somewhat sickened at the cardinals’ embrace. He thanked God they were in the safe confines of their own Palace. Had this been anywhere else, they would have been doomed. He imagined what would happen if this had to go public. They would never recover again after this. He would have to act quickly and decisively. Turning towards Schreider, he ordered the Swiss officer to have his men place the rogue cardinals under house arrest. The Holy See would deal with them later.

  On reaching the Regal Room’s exit, Santori struggled with the Helvetians. ‘I am the next Vicar of Christ!’ he wailed. ‘You all know this! The Church needs discipline. She needs to survive! I am the only one who can save you from the destruction you’re bringing down on yourselves.’

  Chapter 50

  Pope Gregory now stood at the edge of the dais, ferula in hand, and gazing at the cardinals around him. The shocking revelation that one of
their own had killed the Jewish priest seemed to have paralyzed them. With eyes centering on him, as if pleading for reassurance and guidance, waiting for him to provide leadership, it was his duty to unite them as one body and somehow find a solution to this dreadful situation. The old religion would now be obsolete. The Church of Rome had served them for thousands of years, but now needed to undergo profound change if it was going to survive. He knew not all the cardinals would agree with him; the traditionalists, who, like Santori, adhered rigidly to Church doctrine, would fight change. Reform was inevitable, and perhaps would end the schisms that had lasted for centuries. Nothing stayed the same, not even religion. Society had evolved to the point that dogma no longer sustained spirituality. Their followers would not expect their Church to be the same two thousand years from now, so why had they striven to maintain the status quo for the past two thousand years? Archaic dogma would stultify the Gospel of Christ, but creative change could initiate its growth.

  Stepping from the dais the pope now symbolically made himself their equal. He handed his ferula to an aide, waving him away. As he passed Simon, Jennifer and Professor Rabin, they turned to follow him. The College of Cardinals filed into a horseshoe formation, allowing him to take up position in their midst.

  Pope Gregory’s demeanor was serene and his voice calm and deep as he spoke: ‘The Church has survived difficult times, but never have we faced the possibility of her dissolution. For two millennia, we have remained the most powerful institution the world has ever seen, yet today we stand on the brink of collapse. We have achieved a great deal and preached the Word of God, but like a cancerous growth, the sins from which our prerogatives derive are suffocating us. It is clear from the events of the past two days that we have no choice but to change. Reform more radical than probably any of us can vision is required, or the Church will cease to be. Superficial change is not enough. We must penetrate to the heart of the matter, and for nearly all this time, those of us tasked with leading the faithful have known what that is.

  Pausing, the pope waited until the echo of his voice slid off the marble walls around them.

  Staring at Rabin, he said, ‘What do you suggest we do, Professor?’

  Pope Gregory’s voice rang in Rabin’s ears, but in the gravity of the moment, an answer eluded him.

  Receiving only silence, Pope Gregory continued, ‘Well, you have made your point and had your say. You have questioned the Church, our history, our doctrine and us. Now, it is my turn to say what I think of your ideas. Like us, Professor, you must get your house in order. The Church asks the same questions as science but in a different way. The questions we both ask are “Where do we come from?”, “Where we are now?” and “Where are we going?”. Science asks these questions from the vantage point of natural laws, while religion does so from a spiritual perspective. Rightly or wrongly, we arrive at different conclusions, but it is the Church that dares to go further and glimpse God.

  ‘You have accused us of trying to speak for God, and perhaps you are right—we have assumed that right. You have wondered how anyone can speak for God, when arguably, just speaking of God limits Him. Mere human insight cannot define God you would say; it can at best attempt to know the unknowable. Yes, perhaps we and our predecessors have done wrong, but in altering DNA or speculating on the Big Bang, does not science also attempt this?

  ‘We live in a world where life has become mundane,’ the pope said, his eyes penetrating, his voice resolute. ‘Everything has to be instant: gratification, communication, travel, results. We have all these at the touch of a button or a screen. In a world where increasingly sophisticated technologies allow us to observe the inner and outer fabric of the universe, telescopes, microscopes and particle oscillators have become an extension of our senses. X-rays, computerized axial tomography, magnetic-resonance imaging and position-emission tomography are used to peer deep into our bodies. Nothing is out of reach now. Our technology has made us powerful creatures; even our ancestors of only a century ago would have considered us superhuman. Sadly, though, it seems that technology has superseded the soul.

  ‘Reductionism is the hallmark of science, and, because the soul eludes a scientific definition, science has reduced humans to mind and body. It is true that lack of evidence cannot support a belief, but it is also no argument against it. Contemporary thinking conceives of man only as a physical being. But isn’t this a false perception? Might it not be that Paul, despite his treachery, was right when he suggested the trichotomy of body, soul and spirit? Or, as Our Lord suggests in the Gospel of Matthew—body, soul and mind? The inability of technology to identify the soul does not negate its existence. God is God. He cannot be commanded to reveal Himself. To some this proves His non-existence, but there are some in this room who have had personal encounters with divinity, which are as real as anything you perceive with your physical sight. Unfortunately, we cannot command the seraphim to dance to our tune, but we may hope that, as technology and science advance, we will discover the means to identify the soul. The arrogance of assuming the soul does not exist is like denying the existence of the sun because the clouds obscure our vision of it. Maybe science should set itself the challenge of discovering the soul. Billions the world over profess its existence. Can the atheist be so sure he is right? Truth is found through assiduous enquiry and not through conformity.’

  The pope paused to ponder his next thought. What he was about to say he had never discussed with anyone. It was the result of years of solitary contemplation and prayer, but now elderly and infirm, the burden of carrying it alone was too great. He had long waited for the appropriate moment to share what to him seemed a divine revelation. If this day’s events had not brought him to that moment, nothing ever would.

  ‘Earth is not enough,’ he said, slowly turning to regard all the cardinals. ‘We live in a world that is running out of resources and real estate. Soon we will populate every inch of soil. The land will become barren, its resources drained. Look beyond Earth and our sun will one day perish. Look beyond that, and the universe will die as well. Without a soul, why do anything? Why religion and why science? Why the beauty around us? Poetry? Music? Love? Humanity has long known the Earth is not enough; we have intuited it, but still have continued to live in the same way. Hardwired into us is the realization that the soul, and spiritual immortality, do exist. Meanwhile, to ensure our long-term physical survival, we contemplate migration to neighboring planets in our solar system and even muse travelling to other solar systems in our galaxy, if not neighboring galaxies. Our refrain has become “Leave it to science!” But we do so at our peril, for in our own time, science has made Armageddon a possibility.

  ‘The nature of humanity needs to change if we are to survive. Science will modify our DNA and create a new species of man that is better, stronger and more resilient for space travel, perhaps even immortal, in the hope our descendants will live on. Science will also create more durable, faster spacecraft, find wormholes and bend time. But perhaps even science has its boundaries. E=MC2. Einstein's relativity has elevated us from earthly creatures to space travelers. Yet, it is this exact insight which shows us the impossibility of travelling beyond our own solar system. As impressive as the circulating theories and ideas sound, it is our mass that will prevent this. Even if it were affordable the time and energy taken to project mass to other solar systems or galaxies makes interstellar travel a theoretical dream. Unless we can rid ourselves of mass, there is no solar system within our reach. The only way forward is to let go of our physicality and attend to our immaterial, and God willing, immortal, soul.

  ‘Should we discard this precious aspect of ourselves at the behest of a select few? Should a handful of scientists decide our destiny? Can we allow them to play God? If they deny the soul, should we allow them to continue this path of arrogant intervention? What if they are wrong? Scientists claim to create life, but I ask: can you create life with a soul? Clearly, if the scientists do not acknowledge a soul, they cannot. Our mistak
e has been to fossilize faith, but faith cannot be frozen in time. And while we cannot speak for God, neither can science be left to act in His place.’

  Jennifer had been raptly listening to the pontiff’s speech and was now agape with shock. For once the man had sounded holy. Not once had he spoken of Christ as the Savior or pontificated with the usual rhetoric. He had spoken of things that were relevant and current, and he had made a rational argument for why faith—at least a recreated faith—must survive.

  In conclusion Pope Gregory proclaimed, ‘To determine our way forward, I now invoke an ecumenical council. Let us search within ourselves, not just as Catholics but as scientists. Let us join hands and begin again. Together, humbly and with the Grace of God, let us pray that a new path be revealed. I do believe that solutions to the questions presented here today shall be found with patience, kindness and love.’

  The pontiff’s address was at an end and, after the united applause, he turned to Schreider and said, ‘Take our young visitors to our doctor. Then, take them to my suite.’

  He waited until Schreider had escorted Jennifer and Simon from the Regal Room. Then, motioning for Rabin to join him, Pope Gregory strode towards the exit leading to the Apostolic Palace’s suites.

  Passing through the stuccoed doorway, he said quietly, ‘I hope you really did find Peter’s remains, Professor. If not, you have just replaced Saint Paul.’

  Chapter 51

  A cool breeze picked up, drawing Jennifer indoors. Reclining into the soft cushions of the leather sofa, she gazed into the fire. She smiled as she recalled the events of the evening. Strolling into the kitchen earlier, Simon had pulled out a stool for her and suggested she join him by the stove. The kitchen consisted of three distinct areas: a central dining area with a bulky wooden table and twelve chairs under a wood and brass chandelier, the cooking area where Simon had started preparing supper for them, and a fireplace flanked by two armchairs and the sofa.