by Rachel Lee
Miriam nodded. “She’s right, unfortunately.”
Paloma spoke again, and Steve translated. “She asks when are you going to take the medicine. She says your knee will swell up more the longer you wait.”
Miriam smiled and poured a bit of water into her hand, working the leaves until they became damp, then tucked them into her mouth. The taste almost made her gag, and the old woman laughed.
“She says this is the way it must be,” Steve says. “It’s only good for you if it tastes bad.”
“Tell her she sounds like my mother,” Miriam said.
He translated, and Paloma let out a cackle that echoed through the trees. She patted Miriam on the head and left to join the rest of the group.
“So this stuff really works?” Miriam asked.
He nodded. “Yes, it does. You’d be surprised how many of our ‘modern’ medicines are derived from ancient tropical remedies. Those leaves have a chemical compound that’s very similar to aspirin. And aspirin itself was first derived from birch bark. The native peoples used to chew it to relieve pain. The curanderas are not witch doctors, Miriam. They simply know the medicines in their environment.”
“Well, it tastes bad enough to be medicine,” she said.
He looked at her. “That’s not the only bad taste in your mouth, though, is it?”
“You mean what happened earlier,” she said. “Is it that obvious?”
“Miguel told me about it. He said you fought well.”
“Coming from him…” she said, not needing to finish the sentence.
“We may disapprove of his past actions,” Steve said, “but he knows a good soldier when he sees one. From what he told me, I agree with his assessment. But that doesn’t make it any easier on the soul, does it?”
“He said something I hadn’t heard since Quantico. ‘Think of them as paper targets moving in the breeze.’ And that’s what I did. But they weren’t paper targets. They were human beings.” She looked down for a moment. “I guess this is where I’m supposed to say ‘Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned’?”
“If you like. Are you Catholic?”
She shook her head. “My parents were Episcopalian. Now I go to a Baptist church. With Terry.”
“Terry?”
She smiled wistfully. “Terry Tyson. My I-wish-he’d-go-ahead-and-propose-already partner. He’s a homicide cop in D.C. We’re going on two years now, but he’s still dealing with the death of his wife.”
“You’re impatient with him?” he asked.
“I don’t know if that’s the right word,” she replied. “I understand his grief. They were married for twenty-seven years. That’s not a switch you can flick off. He needs time.”
“And still you stay with him.”
She nodded. “I love him. I know I’ll never replace her. I don’t want to replace her. I just want to be with him. He makes me smile. He makes me laugh. And he makes me feel beautiful. What more can a girl ask for?”
“A clean slate?” he suggested.
“Are you saying…?”
He put up a hand. “Not at all. The two of you seem to be well-matched. But we all want to look forward, not back. He looks back to his wife. You look back to this afternoon. If the two of you keep looking backwards, you will never see the future together.”
“So I should just forget about it?” she asked. “I’m sorry, Father. I can’t do that.”
“No, you can’t. And you shouldn’t. But you need to understand it, Miriam. What you did, you did to protect these people. Women and children. Innocents. I’m not saying it was right. And I won’t say it was wrong. It was necessary. Blood was going to be shed, no matter what you did. These people’s blood. Your blood. My blood. Or the rebels’ blood. I don’t think a loving God can condemn you for that.”
“He might not have to, Father. What if I condemn myself?”
“Then,” he said, “you have committed the worst sin of all. You have put yourself above God. Let God be God, Miriam. You’re not qualified for the position, and even if you were, it’s not available.”
She nodded. She hadn’t thought about it that way, but what he said made sense. It didn’t ease the ache in her heart, but it filled a void in her mind. Finally she looked at him and spoke. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
He moved closer and placed his hands on her head, speaking in a voice of solemn conviction. “God, in his infinite mercy, has granted unto us the gift of his forgiveness, purchased by the sacrifice of his own son. By the power vested in me through the sacrament of Ordination, and with the promise of God’s eternal love and mercy, I absolve you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Go and sin no more.”
Miriam felt the tears sting her cheeks. She scrubbed them away with the heel of her hand. Nearly a minute passed before she trusted herself to speak. “Thank you, Father.”
“It is my honor and my duty,” he said. Then he cracked a quick smile. “Or, to put it in common language, just doing my job, ma’am.”
Which raised an interesting question, and one she had never stopped to ask. “So, Father, what exactly are you doing here?”
“Ah.” He looked away from her into the depths of the darkening jungle. “I suppose, being non-Catholic, you wouldn’t be aware that we priests, particularly ordinal priests, go where we’re told.”
“I’m aware of that. I’m also aware when someone is evading a question.”
His gaze met hers. “FBI training?”
“That or women’s intuition.”
He sighed and sat on the boulder beside her, watching the others gather their children close and feed them what little they’d been able to take away with them, along with wild bananas and other fruits they had collected en route.
“I’m not supposed to discuss it,” he said.
“Don’t you think we’ve had a few too many secrets lately? Look at Miguel. What secrets drove him to kill a man he’d never met?”
“His father was hanged by the army. The army was supported by the U.S. There’s a trail of logic in there.”
Miriam sighed. “So what’s the logic of you being here? You said something about working here years ago and then going to Savannah.”
“Well, actually, I went to Rome between here and Savannah.” He looked thoughtful. “Rome was where my life took a turn, I guess you could say.”
“What kind of turn?”
“I used to think I knew. Now I’m not as certain.”
Miriam waited patiently. The distasteful wad was still stuck in her cheek, but the throbbing in her leg was easing. As night began to settle over them, a night that would be without fire or protection from rain, it felt as if she had all the time in the world to wait for the priest to speak.
“In Rome I was persuaded by a friend to join a group dedicated to preserving the true faith. They are called the Stewards of the Faith. It all seemed quite innocent at the time, to devote oneself to defending the Church from lies and half-truths, to dedicate oneself to living the gospels.”
“But it’s not innocent?”
“I don’t know. At times I’m not so certain anymore. You see, Miriam, I have an extraordinary curiosity. It’s not unheard of in a Jesuit, but it often gets us into trouble. When I left Rome, renewed and fervent in my faith, and returned to my home in Savannah, I began to do some deep study. Have you heard of the Nag Hammadi gospels? The Gnostic Gospels?”
Miriam nodded. “Vaguely. Aren’t they supposed to have been written by other Christian groups?”
“It gets a little more complex than that. The early days of the church were a time of great argumentation among apostles and the sees they founded. The bishops were often at odds.” He smiled crookedly. “Even the apostles themselves couldn’t quite seem to agree on what Jesus had taught. In the end, the Church decided to acknowledge only four Gospels. Three, those of Matthew, Mark and Luke, are considered to be synoptic, in that they give a synopsis of the life of Christ, and all three seem to derive from a common
source, referred to as Q. It’s pretty clear they were written by the last quarter of the first century, so they weren’t too far removed from Christ’s time.”
Miriam nodded. This was something she’d never heard before, and it was fascinating.
“And then there was John, quite unique and, unlike the others, slanted against the claim that Peter was appointed to head the church. But that’s a minor detail right now. It was accepted. It fit well enough. But a bunch of other gospels and writings, called ‘apocryphal,’ were discarded and basically lost until first century copies of them were discovered at Nag Hammadi.”
“Okay, I follow.”
“Tell me if I bore you.” He smiled. “Suddenly we had fragments of other gospels again. A gospel of Mary Magdalene, of Thomas, of Philip… I read all of these, Miriam. They were quite clearly influenced by eastern religions. Some of them I felt were so far out of line with anything Jesus could have said that I wondered at their authors. But the contents don’t matter. The study simply led me to start wondering a bit about what I’d always held to be the true faith. Mistakes may have been made. Politics were certainly involved. But they didn’t strike at the core of my belief in Jesus, the crucifixion or the resurrection.”
She nodded. “I’m sure they wouldn’t strike at mine.”
He looked at her. “But there’s this one little detail that kept coming through.”
“Which is?”
“That Jesus was married to the Magdalene, and that they had a child.”
Miriam drew a sharp breath. “Um…”
“I know. I felt quite the same way. But there are Mayan legends that…seem to corroborate it.”
“So that’s why you’re here? To find and demonstrate proof that Christ was married?” She was stunned.
“No, my dear. Others are seeking to do that. I was sent here to find it first. And destroy it. The Church has many enemies, Miriam. Some have been around nearly since its inception, and they continue to this day. Living in the shadows. Waiting for the moment to strike. And when they do…”
“Religious chaos,” Miriam said, clearly seeing the implications. “It might start a war.”
He shook his head. “Not just a war. The last war. Armageddon.”
22
Dos Pilas, Guatemala
It had begun to rain again, a soft rain that pattered on the leaves over their heads. In the growing darkness, families settled down to sleep, wrapped in colorful blankets that doubled as part of their clothing. Little children fussed for a while, then fell silent.
Steve and Miriam were still sitting on the boulder, an ominous silence enveloping them as she struggled with what he had earlier said. For nearly half an hour now, Steve had sat with his head bowed in silent prayer. Sometimes his lips barely moved; other times he was as still as a saint gripped in ecstasy. She envied him a depth of faith that could bring him to this place to minister to these people under such trying circumstances. She was here by accident, and steadily growing more aware of her need for a hot shower and a hot meal. She could never do what Steve Lorenzo was doing.
Finally he lifted his head and crossed himself. His prayer was done. He looked at her. “I’m sorry, I forgot to grab blankets for us.”
“Frankly, I’d suffocate under a blanket. I’m not used to this heat and humidity. It’s actually nice to feel my clothes starting to get wet. In fact, if we get a downpour, I’ll be wishing for a bar of soap.”
He smiled, his teeth gleaming in the little bit of light that still managed to penetrate the jungle canopy. “The higher we go, the cooler it will get. We may yet regret our lack of blankets.”
“I’ll take my chances. Listen, Steve…what you said about Armageddon… Isn’t that rather extreme? I mean, I’ve been sitting here thinking that it wouldn’t affect my faith at all to know that Jesus had married. That he had a child. Why not? It’s what everybody did in those times.”
“True. Some scholars argue that he would not have been granted the title of rabbi if he hadn’t wed. That only married men could be teachers of the faith.”
“So then…”
“But the problems continue from that, Miriam.” He sighed quietly. “Where to begin? It is all so complex.”
“Pick a spot. I’ll follow you in circles if necessary.”
He gave a quiet laugh. “All right. Let us start with the Middle East. We are already at war there, and many Muslims regard that as a Fourth Crusade, an attempt to exterminate Islam.”
“Extreme.”
“Maybe not so extreme. Put yourself in their shoes. The U.S. has supported Israel since the beginning, at great cost to surrounding Arab nations in terms of land and the Palestinians. We also need their oil. Perhaps we think it would be easier to get it if we just simply removed all opposition in the form of Islam.”
“What a horrible thought.”
“I quite agree with you. To make matters worse, there are some in our country who do want a Fourth Crusade. They follow the doctrine of Dominionism.”
“I don’t follow you,” Miriam said.
“These people believe that the United States has been anointed by God to establish a new Christian dominion in this world, to prepare the way for the Second Coming. It’s a Calvinist philosophy that has gained a great deal of strength with the rise of the radical religious right. In fact, many scholars, especially abroad, consider the United States to be a radical fundamentalist nation, little different from the Islamic nations we are fighting. And they have strong evidence to support their views.”
She nodded. “I’ve heard some of the talk since the 9/11 attacks, but I’ve always thought it was extremists.”
He shrugged. “Extremists sometimes gain power, either visibly or invisibly. It’s happened somewhat in Israel, as well, with the rise of their ultraright factions. They worked to free Jewish terrorists who tried to blow up the Dome of the Rock, on the Temple Mount. They believed that the terrorists were serving the will of God, because the Islamic shrine must be destroyed so the Temple can be rebuilt to usher in their Messiah. And most of those prisoners—terrorists, as judged by the Israeli courts—have indeed been freed.”
He paused and stirred the ground with his foot. “So we have three strains of fundamentalism fighting for religious and economic dominance. Suffice it to say the Middle East is extremely unstable and a hotbed of anger.”
“I’ll agree with that.”
“It wouldn’t take much of a spark to set it all into a conflagration.”
“But how does Jesus’s marriage come into this?”
“Let me take a step back and talk a bit about the Koran. Muslims believe that the Koran was given to Muhammad in its entirety. They also believe that Jesus was a great prophet, who spoke the word of Allah, as did earlier prophets. Muhammad spoke of Christians, Jews and Muslims as people of the book. In short, the old revelations were not cast aside. You might think that this would be a great point for understanding.”
“Well, yes.” Miriam shifted as her leg began to throb again. Since the mash in her mouth didn’t seem to be working any longer, she averted her face and pulled it out, tossing it into the jungle. Then she took a deep drink from her canteen.
“Actually, this becomes a source of great dissension,” Steve continued. “By the time Muhammad came along, certain beliefs among Christians had been set in concrete—the Trinity, crucifixion and resurrection. On these three points, Islam disagrees.”
Miriam stared at him, trying to absorb what he was saying.
He continued. “Islam teaches that Christ was never crucified, nor was he resurrected. Nor did Allah ever have a son. Their reasoning is simple. The entire world we know is profane. Allah would never enter into human form, thus sullying his divinity with the satanic. Nor had he any need of a son.”
Miriam nodded. “Okay. I can see that.”
“So Islam believes that Christianity has perverted the word of Allah as passed to us through Jesus, first by claiming he was crucified and rose from the dead, and sec
ondly by creating a Trinity, when for Islam there is no god but the one God, Allah. That makes Christianity a perversion of the true faith and a tool of Satan.”
“Big bones of contention.”
“Exactly. Insurmountable, really. But many early Christian sects didn’t believe in the crucifixion or resurrection, either. That sort of heresy was stamped out in the first millennium.”
“So back to Jesus’s marriage. How could that result in Armageddon?”
“What happens if you can prove that Christianity lied? That the basic foundations of the Christian faith were shaped by jealous men who wanted to guard their power base against Mary Magdalene, a woman whose presence they resented? What happens if you can prove that Christianity was founded on a huge lie?”
“Ouch!”
“Exactly. If Jesus was married, and we’ve been told for two thousand years that he was not, how much authority does the Church really have? How much can we truly trust? If all of Christianity is based on lies, what happens to the New World, which was apportioned out according to papal decree? Does that become invalid? Plenty of native movements would use that.
“In short, Miriam, the Catholic Church would lose its moral authority, and while it seems like a rather outdated thing in the U.S., around the world it is still a strong moderating force against radical fundamentalism. If you shatter that, what are the others going to do about it?”
“Move in.”
“Frankly, I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of bloodshed.”
“But what can you possibly think you would find here? This is so far from the seat of Christianity.”
He hesitated, then decided to get the rest of it off his chest. “There are those who believe that Christ’s grandson sailed for the New World to spread the gospel. And that here he was known as Kulkulcan, or Quetzalcoatl. The Maya were rich with Christian imagery when the Spanish arrived. Red crosses set in temple frescoes and carved in rock. Legends of a white, bearded man— Quetzalcoatl—who came from the sea to teach a doctrine of love and peace, and whose arrival sparked the ascent of the Mayan people. If there’s any proof of that, it has to be destroyed.”