The Blood of the Lamb

by Thomas F Monteleone

  The video crews from ABC arrived just after 6:00 PM and began commandeering an entire floor of the building, concentrating their efforts on Peter Carenza’s office, the conference room, and the surrounding area. Lots of people in jeans, Banana Republic vests, and Sennheiser headsets hustled about the place like members of an electronic guerrilla army. Marion was familiar with all the pre-broadcast craziness and for once was grateful to not be a part of it.

  To avoid the planned chaos, and as a celebration of Peter’s appearance on NewsNight, she and Billy took the executive office staff out to dinner at a nearby Mandarin Chinese restaurant. Peter declined an invitation to join them, claiming a need to make last-minute preparations on his own.

  Maybe the office staff bought it, but Marion felt the snub personally.

  The party ordered the house special, “the Emperor’s Feast,” and the long table of Foundation workers spent several hours working through the endless variety of dishes, tureens, and braziers. The high point of the evening came when the waiter suggested that everyone take a bite from the head of the grouper—a gesture certain to bring good fortune to all the banqueters. No one wanted to be the first to crunch fishhead bones beneath their teeth. At last Billy volunteered, but even though he claimed it tasted like potato chips, nobody followed his lead.

  When they returned to headquarters, Marion and Billy retreated to her office to watch the late night news and NewsNight. Peter had requested that he be left alone with the ABC crew—no Foundation staffers present. Billy used the remote to mute the sound of the last of the news and the blur of commercials between programs. Finally the ABC logo appeared on the forty-inch screen that hung on her wall like a framed picture.

  “Okay,” said Billy. “It’s zero-hour.”

  Suddenly there was a lump in Marion’s throat and she realized she was nervous for the first time that evening. On the floor above them, she knew, technicians were running about, making last minute checks, the unit director was scanning his consoles, and perhaps the makeup person was dusting a few finishing touches on Peter’s classic features.

  After the familiar theme music died down, the camera zoomed in on the familiar face of Mel Cameron. He stared straight into the lens, eyes unwavering, his hair perfectly in place, as if it were a helmet of some synthetic material.

  CAMERON:

  Good evening and welcome to NewsNight. I’m Mel Cameron. Two days ago, at Mountain Rock Ninety-Nine, Peter Carenza, better known across the country as “Father Peter,” appeared as a guest speaker. The Festival was in trouble, having reported sanitation problems, plus food and water shortages. In an effort to help, Father Peter became the centerpiece of a controversial incident. When the Arkansas River inexplicably crested its banks and flooded the festival basin, thousands were killed. However, thousands of eyewitnesses claim to have had a “religious experience.”

  And that’s what we are here to discuss tonight—The Religious Experience In America or, more specifically, Christianity—Organized or Not? Our guests include Doctor Gerard Goodrop, the President and founder of the Church of God-Given Liberties; Father F. X. O’Brian, the president of Notre Dame University; Deacon Bobby Calhoun of the Righteous Television Network; Doctor Jonathan Edwards Smith, Chairman of the United Protestant Churches of America; Reverend Freemason Cooper, president of the Church of the Holy Satellite Tabernacle; and Father Peter Carenza, the peripatetic priest who claims that he is but a simple instrument through which God can perform His miracles.

  In light of Father Peter’s recent experiences and Reverend Cooper’s upcoming International Convocation of Prayer, to be held in Los Angeles on Christmas Day, we thought it might be of interest to examine Christianity’s place among the religions of the world—especially as practiced in America.

  We’ll return in a moment to begin tonight’s discussion. But first, these messages…

  As Cameron spoke, the huge screen behind his head had been illuminated, initially with footage from the rock festival, and then from one remote unit location to another, individually displaying the evening’s principals. Marion found them to be an outrageously sundry lot.

  “What a bunch…” said Billy, turning to look at her.

  “I know. I can’t imagine what this is going to be like. But watch Cameron. He’s the key. He’ll set the tone and subtly push his premise.”

  “You’re really a student of the game, aren’t you?”

  “Student? No, I think I’m a player by now, Billy. But you have to watch the best if you want to play in their league. This guy’s slick. No other word for him.”

  The montage of commercials faded to black and Cameron again filled the screen. Seated in a rigid pose, his impeccable suit looking like it had been pinned to a Fifth Avenue window mannequin, Cameron opened the forum.

  CAMERON:

  As the world careens toward the turn of the century, we face the end of the second thousand years since the coming of Christ. This marks an important moment for the Christians of the world. In order to better understand what is happening among the various religions which fall under the wide mantle of Christianity, we have gathered with us tonight prominent spokesmen from some of the most prominent Christian churches in the United States, and by default, the world.

  Cameron turned and faced the huge wall-screen. It blinked like an eye and revealed the image of a slender man wearing a dark suit and horn-rimmed glasses. He looked like a high school principal or perhaps an insurance salesman.

  CAMERON:

  Let’s begin with Doctor Jonathan Edwards Smith. Doctor Smith, after several decades of declining attendance and enrollment, the nineties have witnessed huge gains in church affiliation. How or why do you account for this?

  SMITH:

  Well, Mel, it is very gratifying to see so many people rediscovering God and their faith, so to speak. I think there are several factors which have fostered this: one, the baby boomer generation is slipping into old age territory—and it’s a well-known fact that people tend to “get religion” as they get older, and two, I think the modern Christian church has learned how to be truly modern—that is, to offer contemporary humanity a viable set of ethics and moral standards.

  CAMERON:

  A very reasoned response, Doctor. Thank you. However, I suspect others among us tonight would champion other reasons. How about that, Reverend Cooper?

  The screen blinked and Freemason Cooper appeared in all his sartorial splendor. He looked as stylish as Cameron, but infinitely more virile and handsome. He radiated charisma like gamma rays from plutonium. Marion had caught glimpses of him on and off for years. He was so ubiquitous, like smog or bad poetry, he was virtually unavoidable. And while he and his kind were a subject for snide remarks among the enlightened, it remained a fact he was wealthy and extremely powerful. Beneath his urbane smile, he was as dangerous as a snake in your boot.

  COOPER:

  Thanks, Mr. Cameron. I think we cannot overlook the idea that organized religion has become fun. I am forced to use my own Church and television programming to illustrate this. Surveys and polls have proven a simple fact: when people watch my satellite channel they enjoy themselves. My show makes them feel good! And isn’t that the bottom-line function of religion? To make people feel good?

  CAMERON:

  A good question. Let’s go to South Bend, Indiana and Father F. X. O’Brian for an answer.

  The wall-screen de-rezzed behind Cameron and reformed with the image of an elderly man in a black cassock and roman collar. He wore wire-rimmed spectacles, combed his thinning white hair laterally across his head, and smiled as though someone were forcing him to do it.

  O’BRIAN:

  Well, Mel, as you know, when you talk about the organized religion of Christianity, the Catholic Church is the oldest church of them all. It all started with us, so to speak. As far as Reverend Cooper’s comments are concerned—I’m not sure religion should be viewed as “fun”—at least not at the bottom line.

  The Catholic Church alway
s relied heavily on ritual and the celebration of the Mass.

  COOPER:

  But the Mass was becoming anachronistic! Latin was a dead, alien tongue, and you were losing members at a fantastic rate during the last half century. Why else would y’all have changed it to English?

  The screen blinked to show Cameron facing his wall portrait of Freemason Cooper. As each subject spoke the screen changed images. As the discussion heated up, the video display became a symphony of facial images.

  CAMERON:

  Good point, Reverend. How about that, Father?

  O’BRIAN:

  Ah, yes…Native languages certainly made the Mass more accessible. But—

  CAMERON:

  But maybe the Mass is out of synch with today’s congregations. Witness the popularity of television ministries, both large and small. Reverend Freemason Cooper runs the largest television church in the world; Deacon Bobby Calhoun operates a local cable channel church in Chicago. Is ritual still a viable, if not popular means of satisfying the flocks? What do you have to say about that, Deacon Calhoun?

  The screen rezzed into an image of a thin, long-haired black man wearing what looked like a white choir robe trimmed in purple and gold. His face was creased and grooved, and almost polished like old mahogany. The natural composition of his features made him appear eternally angry.

  CALHOUN:

  I don’t know what you mean by viable, Mel. All I know is my people do a lot of singin’ and prayin’ together, and they get satisfaction from doin’ it. I think the TV has made it much easier to reach everyone who needs to hear God’s word.

  CAMERON:

  Yes, but there are critics of the hi-tech church. They say television allows a handful of individuals to become extremely powerful—both financially and politically. Much negative criticism has fallen upon Gerard Goodrop and his Church of God-Given Liberties. Much has been said about your blatant attempts to have politicians legislate a particular brand of Christian morality, Reverend Goodrop, claiming you are advocating a violation of the principle of separation of church and state. Any comments, Reverend?

  GOODROP:

  Certainly, Mel. If people think the United States is not a Christian country, then how can they explain Christmas being a national holiday!? And what about laws already on the books preventing the spread of sinful practices, such as gambling and prostitution? Politics and religion have always been intertwined in America, Mel! My church has only blown the lid off the issue, and let the sun rain down on its shining face! I will always be involved in politics because I refuse to stand idly by and watch my country be handed over to junkies and harlots and gangsters and other godless minions of Satan.

  CALHOUN:

  Amen to that, Brother! A-Men!

  CAMERON:

  We have yet to hear from our final guest, Father Peter Carenza, a young Catholic priest who has been making news, in a most spectacular fashion, for over a year. Unless you have been living in a cave or on a desolate mountain-top you must know about “Father Peter,” as his followers most affectionately call him.

  Cameron’s studio screen revealed a very flattering shot of Peter seated in his St. Louis office. He wore a casual flannel shirt and corduroy slacks. His dark brown hair was fashionably long and just this side of unkempt. Artfully lighted bookcases composed a simple but elegant background for the shot. He could have been a young-turk author from New York, a chart-topping rock star, or even a brash, visionary defense lawyer. He looked directly into the camera with a force and confidence that would be obvious to even the most dull-witted viewer.

  CARENZA:

  Thank you, Mel. It’s a pleasure to be included among your special guests.

  CAMERON:

  You arrived on the religious scene only recently, Father, but undeniably with great impact. Your supporters are legion, your critics few. It’s been said, even by your detractors, they remain critical only until they’ve actually met you. You seem so accessible, and yet the real Father Peter Carenza remains largely a mystery.

  CARENZA:

  Why do you say that, Mel?

  CAMERON:

  Well, Father, let’s face it. Very little is known about you. I have a piece of paper here which tells me you were born thirty years ago, in Rome, were abandoned as an infant and raised in a Catholic orphanage. You were sent to an American seminary school as a young boy, and have essentially grown up in the church.

  CARENZA:

  That’s all true, Mel. No mystery, really.

  CAMERON:

  Perhaps not. And yet less than a year ago you began traveling the country, performing what many have called “miracles,” preaching to hundreds of thousands of people. Despite your involvement in the recent Colorado tragedy, no one can be found to cast any blame in your direction. Additionally, it’s been said you’re trying to start a new religion, or at least a church of your own.

  Peter smiled and leaned forward, growing more intimate with the camera and his audience. He did it so naturally, only a trained professional like Marion would notice the gesture, would notice how effective it was in drawing in viewers.

  CARENZA:

  I have no desire to start a new religion. There are certainly more than enough religions in the world already—especially among the Christians. Just look at all the groups represented here tonight. It seems—

  GOODROP:

  Wait a second, son!

  Cameron’s screen shifted to show the plastically-groomed Gerard Goodrop leaning forward on his desk. He was grinning, but it was anything but a benign overture.

  GOODROP:

  Are you trying to make fun of my church?

  Cameron’s big screen blinked rapidly as a spontaneous dialogue was quickly established. Then in a burst of digitized wizardry, it broke up like a jewel being cut into multi-facets, and became a collage of smaller screens with all the guests’ faces looking at Cameron at once. At first, the multiple imaging was distracting, and reminded Marion of the timeless Hollywood Squares game, but it was an effective techno-technique to carry on the heated-up dialogue. Just the kind of thing Cameron always hoped for on his show.

  CARENZA:

  Fun? No, not really, but I often wonder if the Jews and Hindus and Buddhists and other non-Christians are secretly laughing at all of us—everybody who calls himself a Christian.

  GOODROP:

  Laughing?! Let me tell you something, son! There is nothing funny about Christianity!

  CARENZA:

  Oh, come on, Doctor Goodrop, do we ever take the time to listen to ourselves? “Our church is the only true church,” we say. “Ours is the only true way!” We spend half our time and energy denouncing other faiths because secretly we’re all afraid our flocks might stray into someone else’s fold. We all can’t be right, Doctor. All the petty bickering—it’s just silly.

  GOODROP:

  Blasphemy!

  CALHOUN:

  Cast out thy tongue, boy!

  O’BRIAN:

  Now, wait a minute, I think we can at least listen to the point he’s trying to make.

  CARENZA:

  Thank you, Father.

  CALHOUN:

  I might-a known you Cathlicks would team up! Where’s the Pope! Why ain’t he on here tonight, too?

  CAMERON:

  Deacon Calhoun, I think you and Doctor Goodrop are only serving to demonstrate what Father Peter tried to point out in the first place.

  GOODROP:

  The Church of God-Given Liberties doesn’t even recognize the Catholic Church! So how could I even be accused of bickering with it?

  As the pace of the discussion slowed, the television began once again to show the speakers individually. Goodrop looked into the camera and smiled his snake-oil salesman’s smile.

  CARENZA:

  That is precisely the kind of silly, divisive, thinking I’m talking about. Right or wrong, the Catholic Church exists, and has almost three quarters of a billion members. Frankly, it doesn’t need Doctor Goodrop’s recogni
tion to hold its place in the world.

  SMITH:

  Well said, Father. I think the spirit of this program is being lost. If we continue in this vein, I fear we will do more to harm our respective causes than help them.

  CAMERON:

  An interesting observation. I agree, gentlemen.

  CARENZA:

  I don’t want to play the devil’s advocate here, but—

  CALHOUN:

  How dare you bring Lucifer’s name into this?!

  CARENZA:

  Deacon, it’s just a figure of speech. What I was trying to say is that it’s time for all religions—and not just Christian religions—to stop accusing each other. We’re all in this together. And as Jim Morrison said: “No one here gets out alive.”

  GOODROP:

  That’s very clever. Quoting a rock star who was known for his bacchanalian excesses—who died of a drug overdose, most likely while fornicating in a Paris bathtub!

  Peter laughed as he responded.

  CARENZA:

  Yes, you’ve got to watch out for those Paris bathtubs.

  CALHOUN:

  And you call yourself a Christian! Get down on your knees, boy!

  CARENZA:

  Deacon, have you ever listened to me speak?

  CALHOUN:

  Of course not! Have you ever listened to me!

  CARENZA:

  Well, let’s see…last Saturday night, you sang and prayed with LaBelle Washington. Then you gave a sermon on money being the root of all evil. After that, you spent an hour huckstering products.