by Paul L Maier
Jon handed Ferris the file, laughed, and said, “Read for yourself, Dick, my boy: you and I have some work to do!”
At home that evening, Jon let Shannon read the file as well. Now it was his turn to hear a stream of glad affirmations from her lips. Then he picked up the phone and called Kevin Sullivan.
After he had heard his “Pronto?” Jon said, “Your pleadings and your prayers have been answered, Kevin! In spades.”
“Is that you, Jon?”
“None other.”
“What do you mean? Will Joshua agree to meet with the Holy Father?”
“He will indeed!”
“Wonderful! When?”
“That depends on your schedule too. Ideally, within a month or two. Or three.”
“Fabulous! Where in Israel will we meet?”
“Not here. We’ll meet in Babylon instead . . .”
“What?!”
“Well, ‘Babylon’ as in 1 Peter 5 . . .”
“Oh, you mean Rome? Here in Rome?”
“Yup! Joshua was concerned that Benedict might be too frail to travel to Israel, so he’ll come to Rome instead. Mighty gracious of him, I’d say.”
“Wow! Made in heaven, I’d say! Fabulous!”
“But there are some strings attached . . .”
“Oh?”
“Not to worry: they’re pretty delightful strings.”
“Such as?”
“Too much to tell you over the phone, Kevin. E-mail won’t work either: too much joint planning is necessary. In other words, I’ll have to fly to Rome to work everything out with you and the Vatican—and as soon as possible. Can you check the pope’s schedule and get back to me?”
“Sure! Excellent, in fact! Couldn’t be better!”
“So I’ll hear from you soon?”
“Tomorrow afternoon at the latest. But Jon, one last time . . . and I sort of hate to ask this, but—”
“I think I know the question. ‘Is Joshua Jesus?’ Right?”
“Yes, that’s the question, of course. So what’s the answer?”
“How would you answer at this point?”
After a pause, he replied, “Yes, Jon, he is. His resurrecting ‘Peter’ removed my last doubts. The evidence is simply overpowering!”
“Same here, Kevin.”
“It all seems just too surrealistic for words. Cosmic events are taking place right under our very noses, Jon, but they’re happening in what seems to be a normal space-time continuum. I mean, who could ever imagine that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is flying to Rome to converse with the pope?”
“That is a problem: I tried to have him fly to Saint Louis instead and talk with the president of the Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod.” After a long pause, Kevin whined, “Jon, at times your attempts at humor leave so much to be desired.”
“Sorry, sport! It’s a problem I’ll have to work on. Actually, I’m just trying to keep us from going mad at the cosmic drama taking place in some sort of invisible nimbus surrounding us.”
“Makes sense to me. I’ll get back to you tomorrow morning. Ciao! ”
NINETEEN
Jon breezed through security at Leonardo da Vinci, Rome’s international airport at Fiumicino, and scanned the waiting crowd for Kevin Sullivan. He failed to spot him in the milling mass of expectant Italians, waiting to greet their friends and loved ones. Then he felt a tap on his left shoulder and was pulled into a friendly hug.
“Benvenuto in Roma, Jon! I thought I’d attack you from the flank!”
“Aw, you Cats have always had it in for us Lutherans! Hi, Kevin!” “Any baggage, persecuted one?”
“No, just this carry-on and briefcase with laptop.”
“Great! That’ll save us time!”
They proceeded to the arrival concourse, where a black Mercedes limousine was waiting at curbside, fluttering yellow-and-white Vatican flags atop the front fenders. When they had climbed inside and sped off, Sullivan handed Jon a suggested schedule for his two days in Rome. “Here’s your dance card, chum, subject to your veto, of course.”
Jon read it through and nodded. “Fine with me. It’s already two o’clock, so it’s good you didn’t schedule our meeting with the pope till tomorrow morning.”
“The Holy Father’s always at his best in the morning. This way we can run through what you have later this afternoon and into the evening if necessary. If it doesn’t take too long, maybe we can do the Via Veneto tonight. Or Tivoli? Whatever.”
While cruising up the Via Ostiensis toward Rome, Kevin filled Jon in on the latest Vatican politics. “There’s no longer much division in the Curia over Joshua,” he said. “The raising of Shimon was the last straw, so to speak. Only God in Christ could do something like that. Oh, there are a few important diehards, of course, who deny everything—like Gonzales and Buchbinder—but they haven’t had a new thought since the sixteenth century and the Council of Trent. We have our Fundies too, you know.”
“How about Benedict XVI?”
“Now fully on the side of authenticity.”
When they passed by the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls, Kevin remarked, “Just happened to think: St. Paul made it to Rome, of course, but Jesus never did. Now He’ll have His chance.” Then he shook his head and said, “Several months ago, if anyone had told me I’d be using language like that, I’d have called him a blooming idiot!” “I know, Kev. We’re all responding in ways none of us could ever have imagined a short time ago.”
“Here something . . . divine, something infinite is taking place right in front of us, and yet life seems to go on normally in apparently regular channels. It really rattles you!”
They drove through western Rome, along the Tiber, and then over the Tiber River bridge into Vatican City. “You’ll be staying at the same digs as last time, if that’s okay with you.”
“Fine, Kevin.”
“And here we are,” he said, as the limousine braked to a stop. “They’re expecting you inside. I’ll come back around, say, four-thirty with a bottle of sherry under my arm, all right?”
“Entirely all right!”
“Any particular brand?”
“I’m no wine snob, Kevin. Just don’t bring a five-hundred-dollar-a-bottle vintage.”
The Sandoz sherry that Sullivan uncorked was well within the budget Jon had prescribed. After filling two crystal glasses, he asked to read the document Shimon had delivered to Jon.
“Okay, here it is. But, fair warning: some of Joshua’s suggestions may startle you, and I hope you won’t get hacked off. I’ll supply any running commentary you’ll need.”
Sullivan smiled and started reading. Then his features turned neutral, and a mild frown or two appeared. At several points, his eyes bulged, but Jon’s quick comments—and a second glass of sherry—proved palliative. When he had finished reading, Kevin laid the document down, thought for a moment, and said, “It’s really all justified in the end, isn’t it? I was surprised because I had envisioned a spiritual summit between two people, and Joshua has a much broader conclave in mind.”
“You see, Kev, unless Joshua is Roman Catholic—and I know you’d like to claim that he is!—he’d be showing favoritism if he talked only with the pope. The rest of Christendom would demand similar conferences with all the bishops and presidents of other church bodies, which would be impossible. It’s really the only way. And besides all that, I think you should spell his ‘suggestions’ as ‘specifications,’ yes?”
“True enough! But now this changes our agenda: we’ll see the Holy Father in the morning, as planned, but then, pending his approval, we’ll have to see both the pope and much of the Curia in the afternoon, since they’ll have to be heavily involved in the new arrangements.”
“Can they fit this into their schedules on such short notice?”
“Of course not! If we had to work with all their schedules, we wouldn’t accomplish this until the month of May, three years from now!”
“Well, what are we gonna do?”
<
br /> “I’ll simply urge them to clear their schedules—for something as unparalleled as this. Have to run, Jon. I’m going to the Holy Father first, and then to the Vatican secretary of state. After that I’ll come back here, though maybe as an excommunicate!”
“There’s always room for you in Lutheranism!” offered Jon, with a nasty grin.
“‘From this preserve us, heavenly Father!’ In any case, we’ll do dinner after that.” Sullivan hurried off.
Jon marveled at his friend. Kevin had actually quoted from Luther’s Small Catechism in his riposte. Jesuits were a bright crowd indeed!
The next morning His Holiness, Benedict XVI—Bishop of Rome, Vicar of Jesus Christ, Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, Patriarch of the West, Sovereign of Vatican City, and Servant of the
Servants of God—opened the windows of his papal apartment high over the Bernini colonnade in front of St. Peter’s Basilica and breathed in the fresh morning air. On this, as on other mornings, he was wearing the simple white gown, caped at the neck, that marked what passed for a papal uniform.
The 265th incumbent of Peter’s chair kept looking at his watch, for at 9:00 A.M., his friend from the Rama crisis, Professor Jonathan Weber, would pay him a visit, along with Monsignor Kevin Sullivan. Now the bells at the Vatican started tolling nine, and before their last shimmering echo, there was a knock on the door of the papal apartments.
When the pontifical steward presented Jon and Kevin, Benedict XVI embraced them both and said, “I cannot tell you how much I’ve looked forward to this meeting, dear Jonathan!”
“As have I, Your Holiness.”
“Jonathan, Jonathan, at the time of our last visit, didn’t we agree to using first names?”
“Yes, but I didn’t wish to presume—”
“Ah, my good friend, presume at will! Have you two had breakfast?”
Both nodded.
“Still, I have some espresso or tea and cakes at the table here. Let’s all sit down, shall we?”
Kevin led off. “Thanks, Santìssimo Padre, for adjusting your afternoon schedule in order to meet with the Curia.”
“It is nothing. The cause is . . . momentous. Now, Jonathan, let me first thank you for having kept Monsignor Sullivan and me so very well informed about Joshua Ben-Yosef. As we all know, there can be only two options in his case: Joshua is either a deceiver, or he is the very Son of God visibly returned to earth. Can you possibly imagine any greater extremes?”
Both guests shook their heads.
“After months of studying that extraordinary individual, we have come to the conclusion that only God could accomplish the miraculous signs that Joshua has performed—especially the raising of his friend Shimon—and so we believe that he speaks the truth, and we are extremely eager to hear him.”
He now turned and looked directly into Jon’s eyes. “But before we do, I must ask you, Jonathan: are we being foolish in this matter? Or . . . are our conclusions justified?”
Jon thought for a moment at the immense freight loaded onto a question like that—and its answer. “I now believe that it’s the latter, Your Holiness,” he finally replied. “To be sure, we still have a standing investigation panel in Jerusalem, which has the task of searching out the past histories of Joshua and his twelve associates. Both the Israeli and the American governments are involved with their special agents, but they’ve uncovered nothing so far that would in any way undermine the integrity of Joshua or his claims. “Accordingly, after a long and careful study of Joshua’s words and deeds that we’ve conducted over the past months, our conclusions are . . . the same as yours.”
He interrupted himself to haul out two fat tomes from his briefcase, which he laid on the table in front of the pope. “Our findings are summarized in these monographs, which run nearly five hundred pages each. Volume one contains transcripts or summaries of Joshua’s major addresses, teachings, dialogues, and claims, along with information on where and when the words were spoken, and to whom. Volume two lists all the known occasions in which Joshua has demonstrated the supernatural, along with our commentary following. I’ll leave these copies with you, and they may be reproduced for anyone in the Vatican hierarchy.”
“Excellent! Thank you, Jonathan. We’ve also done something similar here at the Vatican—not as comprehensive, perhaps, but, since our theologians were involved, with far more commentary, I’m sure!” That brought a round of laughter.
“In any case,” Benedict continued, “it will be pleasant to compare the two research projects, and we will see that you have copies of ours as well. Now, may we see the document that lists Joshua’s suggestions for our meeting?”
“Yes, indeed. But let me first tell you that he proposes something far more ambitious than a meeting of just you two, Santìssimo Padre. Actually, it may be simpler for me to read aloud each item on the list and then offer an explanation for it. Would that be acceptable?”
“Yes, certainly.”
“I’ll begin, then, with the prologue. Please notice that I have two versions here: the Latin original and an equally original translation into English. His resurrected disciple, Shimon, delivered both to me. I find Joshua’s Latin perfect and his English version equally so. Which shall I read?”
“The simplest, I believe, would be to use the English version,” said the pontiff.
“I was truly hoping you’d say that!” said Jon, with a smile that easily spread to the others. He read aloud:
I thank the Bishop of Rome for agreeing to our meeting, and for supervising the necessary arrangements at the Vatican. I would hope that our conference could convene within approximately two or three months from today, subject to the schedules of all concerned. My suggestions for our conclave follow:
“I don’t think this needs any comment. We can work out the dates later on, all right?”
“Yes, please continue,” said Benedict.
1. My twelve associates will accompany me, as well as others in our party, including Professor Jonathan Weber and his wife, Shannon. He is serving as liaison between Jerusalem and Rome in arranging our conclave. We will make all flight reservations.
“I’m not really sure how Joshua will handle the last. When I asked him about it, he said only, ‘God will provide. Alitalia will provide.’” “I’m sure that I can interpret that,” said the pontiff. “Our national airline will certainly feel honored to put an entire aircraft at Joshua’s disposal, or one of its large corporate jets. At no cost, of course. Will you see to that, Kevin?”
“Certainly!”
Jon resumed reading:
2. As soon as convenient following our arrival in Rome, I would welcome a private meeting with the Bishop of Rome in his apartments or wherever he deems appropriate.
“Anyone have any problem with that? No? Fine, on to point three.” And here’s where the fun begins, Jon thought to himself as he read the following:
3. Soon after this meeting, I would welcome a similar private conference with the Patriarch of Constantinople, who must also be invited to our conclave, at whatever lodging will be arranged for him.
Relieved to see that Benedict frowned only slightly, Jon commented, “This and the rest of Joshua’s suggestions you will find quite ecumenical, Your Holiness. He feels that if he conferred only with you, the rest of Christendom would feel excluded and then plead for similar meetings between himself and the major patriarchs, archbishops, bishops, presidents, elders, and other principal church leaders across the globe. You see—”
“Enough, Jonathan,” the pope interposed. “I understand perfectly. There can be no other way. Please continue.”
4. After this, it is my desire to address the whole church universal through its representatives at an assembly that will include the presiding officers of all major Protestant denominations, all Roman Catholic bodies, all Eastern Orthodox national churches, and other Christian entities across the world. I envision this as a great ecumenical council for all of Christendom, which must be inclusive rather than
exclusive. Details on the invitation list, capacity, location, and the like will be coordinated through Professor Weber and Monsignor Sullivan.
Jon was pleased to see Benedict not only not frowning, but actually smiling and nodding. “This suggestion, Your Holiness,” he said, “resembles very much what you yourself had envisioned after the Rama crisis when you were talking about convening a ‘Vatican III’ ecumenical council.”
“Yes! Yes, indeed! Now we have the sublime incentive to do so!” “Joshua now speaks directly to that concept in point five.” He read:
5. This suggestion may seem presumptuous, but, in view of the previous, it would be more appropriate that the ecumenical invitation be issued in my name, rather than that of the Bishop of Rome. I have been saddened to see how some in both Eastern Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism have harbored grievances against one another for nearly a thousand years—ever since the Great Schism of 1054! I have been saddened to see Protestants and Catholics killing each other in Northern Ireland and elsewhere! Let all Christendom, then, replace hate with love and know that the One who invites them has no favorites.
Commented Jon, “Joshua was distressed also at the rude reception your predecessor, John Paul II, had received from some of the Greek Orthodox in Athens.”
“It is very sad,” said Benedict. “Some continue to fight battles that are ten centuries old.”
“Here’s the next point—six of seven:
6. While naming our great ecumenical council should be the prerogative of the host, if the name “Vatican III” is chosen, let it be clearly understood by all invitees, in view of the previous, that this name reflects only locational and not religiously preferential considerations.
Before Jon could comment, Benedict waved him off and said, “No problem. Please continue, Jonathan.”
“Here’s the last suggestion:
7. Finally, let prayer arise throughout Christendom that everyone may hear and heed my words to the church universal, so that all may enjoy greater unity in promoting the kingdom of God in this world, and in preparing for the world to come. Amen.