The Heretics of St. Possenti
Page 41
“We can only expand so fast while maintaining core disciplines and training. Optimistically, with funding, we might be able to establish ten monasteries in the next five years, each possibly saving ten to twenty a week. Theoretically, in ten years there could be considerably more graduates quietly spreading the Word than there are currently priests, monks, nuns, and all other clergy combined in all of North America and Europe. And we are penciling out how ongoing operations might look well beyond the initial growth stages.” The stunned expressions on the cardinal’s faces said far more than any words they might use. “That is, of course, merely theoretical.”
“But that’s… that’s…” Mierzejewski stuttered before being at a loss for words.
“How closely do you track these men, Thomas?” queried Mayes. “How many are staying on the path of righteousness?”
“St. Possenti’s is a new type of monastery, Eminence. It is not a prison. The Posse—as we sometimes call them, for Posse-nti—represent a new kind of monk. They are not paroled, and we do not track them. God gave man free will, and we—the monks—exercise it.
“That is part of our vow to them. They serve a time and learn, and then they are free to go as they will. We ask that if they are so inclined, they provide us a way to send them a message—all but a few do—and they know how to contact us. We ask that they donate what they can, what they thought we were worth, but… there is no leash on a collar. As one former military intelligence lieutenant put it, we are fourth-generation soldiers in the culture war to reclaim Christianity. No commanders, no lines of communication to disrupt, no centralized data-collection to seize control of. Simply solid faith, hard work, and the firm hand of low-key leadership quietly setting the example among the people.
“Overall, about twenty percent are not sufficiently religiously inclined or leave for some other reason during training. Most of these are decent men, just not cut out for the life and study—though we will welcome them back if they change their ways. Nearly all benefited greatly from the time spent with us. Most of them still view the Church in a favorable light and may well become a regular part of the flock somewhere. A handful have decided they like the abbey as a secular job and are staying as employees but not doing the monastic course of study.
“One in thirty are planning on becoming full-time monks—either staying with the St. Possenti posse or going elsewhere—because the life agrees with them; they are safe and secure there as nowhere else. We have no long-term data on how many follow through on that, but so far it’s holding. About one in fifty are actively studying for the priesthood. Some who were married or otherwise attached liked the idea of priesthood except for the celibacy part, but the only way to square that circle was for them to become deacons. Our first novice-master is one of those. A few have said they plan on going out, finding a wife, and then returning for that last piece. Something like one in fifteen, so far. But I’ve been asking them to keep it under wraps until we are more formally recognized.”
“That would change the face of the Church,” said Cardinal Mayes, his eyes hard. “That many new people, men with military experience and a suspiciously militaristic way of praising God, would alter the message people should hear. That is far too much power to be left unrestrained.”
“These men do have rougher edges and thicker skins than most of your brethren, no doubt. But it is that hard edge which is the bait to bring more into the fold; the hook that is the faith will save them. They will mellow with age, restrained by God.”
“No, Brother,” said Mayes firmly. “That is not how men like this are. They will seek open battle and scare away far more of those already in the flock than they number. It will lose the true faith people, souls and tithes alike. Look at her.” He waved toward Mrs. Mabry, still sitting and watching silently. “A long-time flock member too terrified to even move. Bringing in ten to lose a hundred is no solution.”
“With change comes uncertainty, and change can be frightening. She doesn’t know them yet. But she will. If we do nothing, then the trend continues, and lives will be needlessly wasted while our rolls shrink.”
“But this change is not the right one!”
“We shall see, I expect. We shall see.”
“Where have they all been until now?”
“Busy, very busy. Many have continued to meet on a regular basis for mutual support. I had asked them to keep a low profile until we were officially introduced in order to grow things slowly and steadily rather than to make a big news splash that might be countered by media narrative or narrow minds. They do not talk about it to the faithful, only to those that need to know because they have a need to go.”
“Then when will we start to see them as regulars in church?”
Cranberry shrugged. “I believe attendance has been up modestly in the last few weeks? Some will certainly come this Sunday. They’ve been slowly lighting a fire under lapsed members first, getting them to renew their faith, while giving the soft sell to others. A tectonic shift won’t happen in a day or even a year.”
“We don’t need a tectonic shift. We just need to get more ordinary people off the streets and into a more active faith and–”
Cranberry cut him off, speaking sharply for the first time. “No. The core of human worldly existence is family, and the core of the family is an able provider and leader. These men would never heed your ordinary homily, steeped in the secular world and dysfunctional and anti-male government as they have been for their whole lives. But this message—strong in body and embracing the warrior spirit of adventure and being active in attacking the evils they see in the world—is a clarion call they understand. It speaks to the deepest parts of the mind, the foundational basis of Western civilized man, and it buys them time to come to grips with what they have seen and done. You have no idea, no idea at all, what these men have been through. Those fires of war made their minds and souls fragile, brittle, and uncivilized. Our program met them where they were with what they needed, tempered it, bound them together with like souls, and brought them back into the fold of civilization, linking arms like rings of chainmail to protect those around them.
“If the end-times struck tomorrow, these men would be the much-needed steady hand in fighting Satan’s minions, meeting their blows stolidly, and giving back twice as hard. They would not fall aside and let others lose faith while fearing that God has forsaken them. To fail to reach out to all men as best we can is to fail to spread the Word as best we can. You want men who act like men in your churches, and these are men that others not of the faith will see as such. If it is not a path you dare walk, then let us walk it. Let me lead them to the path out of the darkness.”
“You do not lead them out of darkness with the Word. You lead them into darkness with a corruption of it!”
“We preach from the same Bible as you, Excellency. Regular Masses, some in Latin. But we put a little more emphasis on the less-well-trodden passages so this audience can hear the words over the thunder of gunfire, screams, and shelling that still echoes in their ears.”
Mayes looked back at Cranberry, clearly unhappy, but without rejoinder to such an image. Finally, he spoke quietly. “His Holiness will want a full report and accounting. I will be calling him this afternoon to give my initial impressions. I’m sure he’ll want a more complete set of numbers than has been passed along so far, as soon as you can put them together.”
“I look forward to that meeting, Your Eminence. I have nothing to hide, nothing to regret, and nothing to be ashamed of.”
* * *
The phone in Cardinal Mayes’s pocket rang. The ringtone was a Hallelujah chorus. He froze very briefly before fumbling for his phone as fast he possibly could. Before the second ring finished, he was standing bolt upright and answered it with, “Hello, Your Holiness.” The other three present exchanged looks. “Yes, I saw the homily…. It was as full a church as ever I’ve seen…. Yes… He is… Yes…” He held the phone out to Thomas and said in a hushed and surprised voice,
“It’s for you. Pope Leo.”
Reflexively, Cranberry reached for the phone. “Yes, Your Holiness?” He listened intensely. “Yes, certainly.” He faced the others and said, “Excuse me.” He walked about for the next few minutes with the phone’s camera pointed out, sending a stream of pictures back to the pontiff. Several times Thomas heard something, put it to his ear, nodded, and said, “Yes, of course,” and said the man’s name. To each, he whispered a few words and pointed over toward where the other priests were standing. After sending over five men, he returned with a sixth. It was a wide range. One in a suit, one in biker leathers, one looking healthy and buff, one hollow-cheeked, homeless-looking, and rough-edged, one who had his wife on his arm when directed over, and one wearing a habit. Thomas handed the phone back to Cardinal Mayes while they all looked at him curiously, expectantly.
“You have been selected to fly to Rome tomorrow to meet with Pope Leo XV so he can gauge firsthand what sort of men you are. Papers and reports can fill in some details, said His Holiness, but there is nothing like shaking a man’s hand and looking him in the eyes as he answers questions and tells his story to get his measure. The six of you will be in a private audience with him.”
He faced the other three cardinals. “He asked that you escort them back to explain protocols and expectations for the audience.”
“We’re meeting the pope?” asked Charles “Clint” Gronsky, the biker. “Yeah, I might need a little help. What’s the rule for packin’ heat around His Hugeness? Only little ones?” He held out his hands to illustrate the size of a pocket-pistol.
Mayes blanched and looked aghast.
“I think it might be a good time to play it straight, Clint. No joking around until he gets to know you somewhat…. You were joking, riiight?”
“Oh, yeah, boss, sure. O’ course. B’sides, airport security might not like it, assuming they’d see a little thing like that. Never have before.”
“Clint!” said Thomas, a reprimand in his tone.
“Yeah, got it, yer abbot-ness. Straight.” He drew himself up to his full nearly two-meter height, composed his features into a placid, genial smile. The change in appearance and tone were improbably major. “I look forward to meeting His Holiness. Should I wear my ordinary attire or the more humble habit sans hardware?”
“Better do business travel for the flight over and change into your habit once there.”
“Certainly.” Gronsky looked down on the much shorter Cardinal Mayes. “I know what best behavior means. Father-Abbot Cranberry taught us much and well.”
Bishop Cranberry spoke to Mayes with a grin. “Appearances can be deceiving. I do not know what His Holiness was looking for, but he… may be surprised. Clint here spent five years in military intelligence, mostly in the field. He’s a quick study. After we got his head put back together, he’s been working for a small defense analysis sub-contractor. You have no reason to be afraid or embarrassed for any of them.” He looked sternly at the taller man. “As long as you keep your humor appropriate and don’t scare security, Clint.”
Mayes flapped his lips for a moment before collecting himself. “Gentlemen, you have much to learn and only a short time. You have no idea how unusual this is for a commoner to be invited in to have an audience with–”
“Excuse me, Your Eminence,” interrupted Thomas. “These men are not commoners. They are avowed monks-errant and brothers, men of the cloth, and former brothers-in-arms. The least knowledgeable of them is brother Quinnet, who has been with us for almost two years. They have all studied and trained hard. Do not patronize them. Treat them as the handpicked representatives to the pope that they are. They have some rough edges, but they are good men and true.” He faced the six brothers. “Anyone need any help getting their things?” Two raised hands.
“Got’cher six,” said the one in a suit instantly. “Where to?”
And with that, they launched into addressing the details of packing and preparing for an international flight on short notice, letting family and co-workers know the barest details.
* * *
An hour later the six monks and the cardinals were away, the church was nearly empty, and a tired archbishop finally took a seat in a pew heavily. Thomas pulled out a folding chair from a side aisle and sat facing him. “In the hands of God now.”
“What do you think will happen in Rome, Thomas? Is there any chance at all? Even with a hair over 1.4 million dollars collected?”
“And from men who not long ago were all but penniless. Many even in debt. And that’s not counting the four and a half million in low-interest loans they have been paying regularly on. The debt-consolidation aspect has been an excellent deal for all concerned.”
“Hmmmm…”
“There is always a chance. His selections could hardly have been better. They have nine prosthetics and four suicide attempts between them. Clint is very smart and can be very self-controlled; he’s a bit of a joker, but he just plays the rebel as part of his job. Tony is a former junkie who would definitely be dead by now; he’s very passionate about his faith and has become sort of a low-key street preacher among the homeless addicts. He knows scripture as well as anyone. He has looked up a tall ladder just to see what most of us would call rock bottom. Chuck was an infantry sniper, very steady, now an insurance adjuster; he has a great mind for numbers. It looks like the blast damage has healed well. James was an AC and support systems tech for a base that got hit hard several times but is a top-notch personal trainer at a gym now. Very gregarious and personable. Bob had separated from his wife while overseas but never divorced. They reconnected after he got his act back together while with us. He called her up one Saturday out of the blue and asked if he could take her to church on Sunday, and they are back together now. No doubts at all they’ll become regulars, likely have at least a half-dozen kids. He’s the guy who turned us on to the Latin. Quinnet is still at the monastery. He was an APC driver; he’s very quiet, meek, and much more like a traditional monk. Had significant TBI… traumatic brain injury. He’s talked of either becoming a lifer to be a songwriter and chorus instructor or possibly joining another more traditional order. They all know one another and know the drills and chants and ways to deal with someone in a flashback episode. They’ll be fine.”
“You sound so optimistic. Even though you know this is a long shot.”
“They all make long shots every week,” Cranberry joked dryly. “The die is cast… or shall we say the trigger is pulled, and the flight path is what it will be, and we are past trying to predict the gusts of wind?”
Approval
We have composed this Rule so that, through its observances in monasteries, we may know we have made some progress in pursuit of virtue and the commencement of a monastic life. For those who are hurrying to attain a truly holy life, there are the works of the Holy Fathers. The following of these will lead a man to heights of perfection. For what page or word of the Bible is not a perfect rule for temporal life? What book of the Fathers does not proclaim that by a straight path we shall find God? What else but examples of the virtue of good living, obedient monks are the Collations, Institutes, Lives of the Saints, of the Holy Fathers, and the Rule of St. Basil? We who are slothful, bad living and careless should be ashamed. Whoever you are, if you wish to follow the path to God, make use of this little Rule for beginners. Thus at length you will come to the heights of doctrine and virtue under God’s guidance. Amen!
—The Holy Rule of St. Benedict, Ch. LXXIII (Of This, That Not the Whole Observance of Righteousness Is Laid Down in This Rule)
The six monastic envoys returned exhausted but exhilarated, but they were silent and somber until they were in the van Thomas had borrowed to pick them up. He turned to them. “Well?”
Slowly, they all started to grin and gave him a thumbs-up.
Chuck spoke first. “The Big Cheese is on board.”
“Conditionally,” added Quinnet.
“Conditionally? What sort of conditions?”
>
“We still make a lot of the high mucky-mucks nervous as all heck,” explained James. “The ammo factory freaked some of them out. Seriously. The only reasons they didn’t pull the plug on the spot were that we hyped our sales to police and law enforcement and the fact that the cash flow and product were the only things that allowed the abbey to function.
“We have to be self-supporting and keep a very low profile. Very low. Next-gen stealth low. So low as to be virtually nonexistent in the news or on the web. But because of your success reaching lost causes like us–”
“–and the fact that we’d done real monastic things like singing vigils and liked it–”
“–and we are generating deacons at an incredible rate. He’s looking into a more regular expeditionary force drawn from the faithful to help channel and control some of the anger and calls for action he’s hearing from people who are tired of always turning the other cheek. The economy means there will likely be plenty of recruits. He believes us and our stories, but many people don’t like the fact that we are not pacifists or on a leash. But His Holiness sees the power you have tapped into. Soldiers make them nervous in the best of times and with the tightest controls, but they really don’t like freelancers, even believers, acting like sheepdogs.”
Clint spoke up. “He’s a very wise man and a savvy politician. A great pope—one for the ages. He knows he has to keep up appearances and calm fears but also has to get things done. He sees that we are. Getting it done, that is. So we can keep going, with a very slender wisp of official backchannel support on a very minimal, and only as-needed, basis. At least until we have a much longer track record of success and keeping out of the news in a bad way.”