by Lee Lamond
Austin looked at Madeline, and now he wanted to laugh. “So what are you doing tonight?” he asked.
“I have to clean my apartment. So when I get home I will be running the vacuum and doing the dishes.”
“That sounds like something that could wait.”
Madeline knew where Austin was going with that comment, and it was more than okay with her.
When dinner was over, they walked through the lights of a Paris night and back to his place. Thoughts of Susan ran through his head. One side of his brain felt guilt and the other wondered if people could be influenced by loved ones that had died. His relationship with Madeline was going too well, and Austin wanted to believe that Susan was in on it.
Chapter 6
Paris
Madeline left early after making breakfast for Austin. She always insisted on being at work on time, and even through she was offered an encore, she made it to her desk with three minutes to spare.
At nine, Austin made his move and called Father Moreau.
“Bonjour.”
“Father Moreau, this is Austin Clay. I have a message that you called.”
“Oh, yes, Monsieur Clay. I had a discussion with Andre Vassar the other day, and he suggested that we get together regarding your project.”
“Father Moreau, that is probably a good idea. I had mentioned to Andre that once our program was defined, a meeting with a representative of the Church would be mandatory. We have not yet completed our project outline, but talking with you sooner, rather than later, may be a good idea.”
“I have some time this morning. I know that this is short notice, but if you can be here by eleven, then perhaps we can at least begin the discussion.”
“Eleven would be fine.”
The good father provided an address, but he did not provide a sense of optimism. Austin was not able to get a sense of how the discussion might go. But he had to face up to the fact that without cooperation from the Church, there would be no project.
Moreau’s office was in a historic building in Paris, and the interior looked as historic as the outside. The woodwork and paneling were dark and heavy, and even the carpets were dark. There wasn’t a receptionist, so Austin went to the room number that Father Moreau provided. Austin opened the door slowly, only to find a corridor lined with cardboard boxes. At the end of the hall was an open door with sunlight shining in. Austin walked to the door and was met by a young priest who was perhaps no older than thirty-five.
“Monsieur Austin?”
“Father Moreau, I presume.”
“Yes, yes. Come in, please.”
The office was small, and the good father’s desk was a bit messy.
“Please don’t mind the mess,” said Moreau. “One of the things I pray will be in heaven for me will be someone to keep my desk more organized. Until then, I guess I must suffer here on earth.”
It was clear that the priest needed more room and perhaps some office help, but in a strange way it gave a clue to Austin.
The priest said, “I would offer you some coffee, but the coffee machine is way down the hall.”
“No, no, I am fine,” insisted Austin.
Austin had always assumed that when it was time to address the Church, it would be before a stern tribunal of cardinals who looked down from a high courtroom bench to the lowly Austin far below. Now he was dealing with a guy who looked like he’d just left the tennis court and was about to pose for a photo spread in Church Weekly. It was clear that if properly used, his picture could be used to bring women into the Church.
“Andre and I work together on a project now and then, and he has become a good friend,” said the priest. “He mentioned that you were preparing a very interesting proposal and that a meeting might help put some of your plans in perspective before you go too public. I work with something called the Committee of Sacred Art of the Diocese of Paris. Your plans would be of interest to this office.”
Austin’s mind spent a second or two on the phrase “too public.” That did not sound good, he thought to himself.
“Father,” he said, “as I mentioned to Andre, I have elected to take over a project that my wife began. She passed away about two years ago, and the project has haunted me since.”
“Andre mentioned that your wife had died. I am so sorry to hear that, especially when one is so young.”
“Thank you, Father. If she were here now, I suspect that this project would be well under way, and now I am just trying to get it started. Did Andre give you any of the details of the project?”
“Not enough to do it justice.”
“Okay, I don’t want to waste your time with too many details or too many opinions, but let me condense it down. My wife and I have had the opportunity to travel through every Western European country and some in Eastern Europe. The good news is that typically the churches in Europe were built with love and a commitment, and many are in good shape. But some of the finer detail is disappearing. I am sure this is not news to you, in your capacity.”
“Oh, no,” said Moreau. “The Church currently has repair work under way on hundreds of churches in France alone, and the needed investment throughout Europe is staggering.”
“Father Moreau, my wife and I also noted that some of the interior features are showing signs of age. Some of these cannot be replaced without losing the historical significance, but perhaps some of it can be saved. My wife developed a concept that would require the cooperation of many resources, with the objective of saving many of the paintings that hang in many of the churches that are suffering from age. If I might be frank, Father, there are paintings hanging in churches today that are almost lost to dirt, candle smoke, water damage, and insects. There is new technology that can restore some of these paintings and extend their lives and beauty for perhaps another two hundred years. But the more time that goes by, the more difficult it may be to achieve the amount of work required. We see this as a big project and one that would require a great deal of money for both the restoration and for the management of the program. The mission is not to take possession of the painting per se, but rather to create a resource in France, and perhaps other locations in Europe, that could be a focal point for restoration and corporate sponsorship.”
“Monsieur Clay, Vassar mentioned to me that you may not have been aware of the fact that the state has ownership of many of the churches built before 1905. I know this is a little surprising for many non-French people, but in this day of shrinking budgets, I must tell you that having the state responsible for many of our churches is a blessing. It does make your project a little complicated, but Vassar is connected and knows how to deal with this issue. With respect to the Church’s role in your project, let me mention this. I was in Ohio about five years ago, visiting family, and I noted signs on the side of the road that said that someone had adopted the highway to help keep it clean. I have often thought that the Church could use the same approach to restore buildings, and I could see something like that helping your plan. The one thing that is obvious is the need for a platform or structure to define the program and administer the rules.”
“Father, in the initial period of this effort, the objective is to define the scope of the project, including the inventory of paintings that might be candidates, as well as the means to fund the effort, which is perhaps the most important issue. We believe that the program can be packaged to allow all of the corporate sponsors to benefit beyond the amount of their contributions, and I have no problem if smaller groups or even individuals want to participate.”
“Monsieur Clay, let me give you my initial perspective. If you are going to give me money to do my job, I will accept it. If you want to do my job, then we must talk. This may not be my opinion alone. You must understand that the Church today, as it has been for the past one thousand years, is very conservative and perhaps slow to react to changing conditions. The thinking is that the world must conform to the Church, versus the Church conforming to the world. The truth is somewhere in the middle, but
I will admit to you that the Church in France has some issues that are perhaps as demanding as ever. Attendance is down, and to use a business term, the cash flow is down while the real estate overhead is growing. The number of active priests is down to the point that some churches hold Mass every other week and some churches are being closed or even sold and turned into retail establishments. As a Catholic that has dedicated his life to the Church, I find the decay heartbreaking. Your perception that there are some art objects that may have suffered is correct. I am not against what you want to do. My job will not be to say yes, but rather to help you get a yes from the Church in France.”
“Father, did I hear you say that you would be an ally in this effort?”
“Perhaps. It might be best if I don’t tell you what the Church will allow. It might be best if I tell you what it will reject out of hand. There will be shades of gray—in a healthy, cash-rich church, the politics might be against you, but I suspect that today there will be areas where your help would be accepted. Now that I have said that, let me give you a compressed perspective of the official party line of the Church. Are you ready?” said the priest.
Austin smiled at the priest and said, “Sure, I am ready.”
“Mr. Clay, the Church values its art and has some of the best resources in the world to manage and maintain its art inventory. We appreciate your interest and would welcome your financial support, but we believe that our current resources are fully capable and up to the task. In other words, Mr. Clay, send us a check, and then disappear. I won’t call this a lie, I will call it a perspective that may not be accurate.”
Austin sat quietly and looked at the priest. He understood and valued the contrast that the priest had provided. It confirmed that Father Moreau wanted to be an ally, if Austin gave him the ammunition.
“Father, I am currently putting together about a forty-page document that is intended for presentation to Andre. It is very preliminary and is intended as a basis for additional discussion, and hopefully that will result in a final plan. In talking with you I sense that I am not talking to the Church as much as I might be talking to a Church coach. If I am correct, I am very thankful and appreciative.”
“When you are ready, show me your draft.”
“How about Tuesday of next week? I hope to make my presentation to Vassar and others next Thursday.”
The priest checked his book and then looked at Austin. “Tuesday morning will be fine. Monsieur Clay, do you like beer?”
Austin was taken off guard. “I like beer very much.”
“Good. Let’s take an hour or so, and I will take you to a favorite place of mine around the corner.”
“I would be honored, but I insist on paying.”
“Well, I am sure that paying for beer is not the same as paying for a painting rescue effort, but it is a start,” replied Moreau with a laugh.
Austin was happy that he was getting some more face time with the cleric. The priesthood was for someone committed to a cause, and although Austin was not Catholic, he admired the commitment that Moreau had made.
In a little bar on a back street, the two men sat and communicated. The bar had seen better times, but the selection of beer was interesting, and so were some of the faces that occupied the space. It was clear that the priest was not concerned about posturing and was willing to mix with all levels of humanity. Austin kept checking to ensure that his wallet did not mysteriously disappear thanks to some of the other patrons.
“Monsieur Clay, I appreciate this meeting. If I were fully honest with you, I would tell you that the Church is desperate for someone to come in and inject your kind of thinking into many things. I became a priest to serve God. The Lord and I have come to an understanding that he will direct me to do his will on his schedule. That is why I am satisfied to be working on an art preservation program instead of serving the sick or people in the parishes of France where the need is very strong. It seems like a minor topic, but the art of the Church is the heritage of the Church and something that must be preserved, as a means to preserve the word of God. Unfortunately the Church has to increase its efforts in marketing both itself and its message, but it has one foot in the fifteenth century while trying to compete with television, the Internet, and cell phones. With all of the competition in this world, the Church is losing its importance in people’s lives. There is a slowness to react that is secure in Rome and a resistance to admit that the Church has committed mistakes in the past. This sets up the Church for criticism, and in today’s world it only helps the detractors. Monsieur Clay, I have seen examples of the artwork you talk about. I have seen the effects of time on many of the buildings, and worst of all I have seen the empty churches on Sunday. All of this gives the impression that the Church is dead. Unofficially, Monsieur Clay, I support you 100 percent, even if I may not agree with your methods. I look forward to reviewing your information prior to your presentation, and perhaps with an edit or two we can make everyone happy.”
“I would appreciate that very much.”
“So tell me, Monsieur Clay, what do you do when you are not out saving art.”
“I own a medical device company in North Carolina. I am an engineer that makes things to help cure people.”
“Are you a Catholic?” asked the priest.
“No, Father, I am a weak Baptist who has probably spent more Sunday mornings on the golf course than in church,” confessed Austin.
“Well, if you have not chosen God, perhaps he has chosen you. I think what you are trying to do is, in its own way, very important to the art world, and perhaps it is very important to the Church.”
The priest pointed at one of the beer taps. On top of the tap was an ornate figure with the name Fleur De Houblon cast in bold letters. “Have you ever tried this beer? It is Belgian and very good.” Father Moreau signaled the bartender that two more beers were required.
He said, “Monsieur Clay, I could assume a posture that some in Rome or some here in Paris would take and be an obstacle to your efforts. What the Church needs is someone to lead. Remember, Monsieur Clay, they just don’t fire priests, and I am not going to be pope, so I have nothing to lose. Let me make sure that you heard me earlier. The adopt-a-painting idea—like the adopt-a-highway idea in your country—is one that I see working. It would allow all levels of society to participate.”
Austin understood the coded message very well: “Do it the Father Moreau way, and I will support you.”
The afternoon drifted on. and the beer continued to flow. Suddenly the priest reacted to a new bartender that came on duty. “Austin, I want you to meet my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Monsieur Clay, this is Bridget,” said the priest as he put his arm around the woman’s waist.
Without hesitation the woman kissed the priest on the cheek, gave him a big hug, and then put her head on his shoulder, while Austin sat at the bar, bewildered. The French were known for liberal attitudes on many subjects, but this was unexpected.
“So, Father,” said Bridget, “what can I get you two fine gentlemen?”
The priest looked at Austin and said, “Do you have room for just one more?”
“Sure, why not?” said Austin, who understood how important face time with Moreau was.
With Bridget at the other end of the bar, Austin had to say, “Father, I am a little confused with your comments about Bridget.”
The priest smiled and took a drink of beer with a smile on his face. “Monsieur, before you get nervous, Bridget is a good friend and nothing more. Five years ago she was a stripper, and then she became a heroin addict and then a prostitute … or maybe she was a prostitute first. Anyway, she got into some trouble with a pimp, and he threatened to kill her.”
Austin listened very carefully, but the conversation just stopped.
“And?” said Austin, hoping to learn the rest of the story.
“And I beat the shit out of him, and he has not been a problem since. I knew the owner of this bar,
and after Bridget got herself cleaned up and off the drugs, I got her a job here.”
Austin was amazed. “Father, I thought the message of the Church was peace, and turning the other cheek, and stuff like that.”
“It can be, but on occasion, you have to make a lasting impression. I did a little boxing in seminary, but I think the pimp got the message when I smashed a chair on his head. I see him at Mass now and then, and I think he is trying to be a better person. You must remember, God works in mysterious ways”
Austin laughed. With a big smile on his face, he said, “Father, you and I are going to get along just fine.”
“Monsieur Clay, some priests would like to address the masses, but I find that I can do more by addressing people one by one. Sometimes you can have a real impact, and sometimes you get to see evil directly. Years ago, just after I was ordained, I was hearing confessions late one afternoon. Sitting in the confessional, I heard a noise and saw a small, youthful man using a metal bar to try to remove the lock from the poor box and steal the money. The Church will support those who need money, but stealing money from God is just not a good idea. I confronted the man, and he tried to hit me with the metal bar. I grabbed the bar after I felt it brush past my hair and almost kill me. With the bar in my hands, I thought the problem would soon be over, but the man pulled a knife. Suddenly I looked into the eyes of evil. I did something that I have long regretted. I hit the man on the side of his head with the bar. The bar had a sharpened end, and it caught him on the left side of his face and removed part of his ear. At first I regretted hitting the man, even though it was in self-defense. I quickly realized that evil takes many forms and that the real crime was that Satan had control of the man I hit, and I only wish I could have hit Satan himself. God makes many miracles, but we priests can only do so much.”