Jacob Shall Be a Fire
❖
A Catholic/Christian Theological Novel
of the End of Days
Rick Harrison, MSgt, USAF (Ret.)
Copyright © Rick Harrison, 2009.
Contact the author at…
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or
by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any
information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the
copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Photo Credits
Front cover photograph, “Operation Desert Storm” taken by
M.Sgt. Fernando Serna, U. S. Air Force photograph, file 071009-F-2911S-013.JPG.
Back cover photograph, “Combat Talon” taken by
S.M.Sgt. Rose Reynolds, U. S. Air Force photograph, file 021126-O-9999G-020.JPG.
Quotes from the two papal encyclicals, Providentissimus Deus, and Summi Pontificatus,
and the lecture by Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, “Biblical Interpretation in Crisis” used by
permission, courtesy Libreria Editrice Vaticana, Vatican City.
The quoted subtitles to the parts of this book are taken from quotes or paraphrases of the
following verses of the Holy Bible: Revelation 20:3 RSV (Part I); Matthew 24:7 NAB
(Part II); Zechariah 10:7 NAB (Part III); and Matthew 18:3 NAB (Part IV). (All Bible
verse citations in the preface are from the New American Bible.)
Unless otherwise indicated, scripture texts in this work are taken from the New American
Bible with Revised New Testament and Revised Psalms © 1991, 1986, 1970
Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Washington, D.C. and are used by permission of the
copyright owner. All Rights Reserved. No part of the New American Bible may be
reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
Quotes from the Catechism of the Catholic Church used by permission, courtesy Libreria
Editrice Vaticana, Vatican City.
Dedication
To the Lord God
Also dedicated to Scott Siefkin, a hero who gave his life in service to his
country, and to all the veterans and their family members who directly or
indirectly fell victim to Gulf War Illness.
http://www.gulfwarvets.com/cristie.htm
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First of all, my thanks to the Lord God, the Holy Family, and the host
of heaven who helped me through the difficult period of writing this
book under the devil’s oppressive interference.
I owe my brother, Mick, a great deal of thanks for helping me
financially over the past two decades as I struggled to survive Gulf War
Illness and lead a partially productive life. Without his help this book
would not have been possible. My thanks also to my son Jonathan for
investing significant money towards getting the first edition of this book
published, and again to Jonathan and my daughter, Julia, for a continuing
vote of confidence, encouragement and moral support that nearly always
exceeded my own level of confidence that I would eventually get this
book done right. The same goes for my older brothers, sister, and
extended family members.
My thanks to Dr. William Zambrano, author of the Tribulation Times
Catholic newsletter (free on the Internet) and Stephan McCarroll, author
of the Middle East Peace Update Report Christian end times newsletter
(also free on the Internet), for encouragement and support while this
book was in its very rough seminal phases. The same goes for Fr. Felix
Just, author of the Catholic Resources web site; Phil Ropp author of the
Radio New Jerusalem web site; Dr. and Mrs. Tom Strand who invited me
to the Catholic Church; Ron Smith who authors a Catholic questions and
answers report available free on the Internet; and all the excellent priests
who have served St. Charles Borromeo parish in Bloomington, Indiana
over the past eleven years.
During those early days of writing, being a novice in the realm of
biblical prophecy but feeling called to it, I was fumbling around in the
dark and making frequent errors. Without the encouragement of our
priests and these good Christian men and women, all with many years
more experience in the faith than myself, I would certainly have given up
long before the book began to take proper form.
My thanks to Garth Nicolson, PhD and Nancy Nicolson, PhD for
their cutting edge scientific research and heroic fight to get the truth out
about Gulf War Illness and the enormous benefits of long-term antibiotic
treatment for veterans affected by the germ form of the illness. Minus
their efforts, I wouldn’t be alive today.
Thanks to Joyce Riley, former Air Force Nurse, Captain, and Dr.
Stanley Monteith of Radio Liberty for getting the word out in the media
on Gulf War Illness. Their efforts led me to the Nicolson’s treatment
program and a nearly full recovery.
My thanks also to another great Christian man, my family doctor,
Bruce Records, MD, for having the courage to buck politics and save my
life with long-term Doxycycline treatment. Thanks also to Dr. Records’
entire office staff, including his wife, Penny, for their service to the
community and their Christian moral support and prayers.
Finally, my thanks to the Catholic, Christian, Buddhist, and Islamic
communities of faith in the Bloomington area, as well as their
counterparts statewide, nationwide, and worldwide, for their prayerful
support, including those who quietly show up in the coffee shops and
restaurants as spiritual warfare prayer support groups. Their prayers have
gone a long way towards keeping the devil off my back as I do my own
prayer and prophecy ministry here in town. Foremost among these, of
course, are the priests and pastors, their equivalents in the other faiths,
and the vowed religious sisters and brothers. Your prayers and service to
God’s Church are much appreciated.
To our own beloved priest at St. Charles Borromeo Catholic Church,
Fr. Thomas Kovatch, his associate priests who also serve St. Charles, and
their predecessors a special thank you for being such compassionate
shepherds of the flock. Thank you. The same goes for our beloved Pope
Francis, Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, and our own Archbishop Joseph
W. Tobin, and Archbishop Emeritus Daniel M. Buechlein in
Indianapolis,
For all mentioned here and many who aren’t to which I also owe a
debt of thanks, I pray that God will forever bless and watch over all of
you and yours.
CONTENTS
***NOTE: Page numbers are omitted for the electronic version until final editing is complete.
Acknowledgments......................................................................................
Preface............................................................................................................
Prologue .........................................................................................................
Part I
“Until the Thousand Years Were Ended”
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
“Spooky is Right” …............................................................
The Truth Shall Set You .....................................................
God is Real ..........................................................................
Part II
“Kingdom Shall Rise Against Kingdom”
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
“Guinea Pigs” ......................................................................
Our Father’s (War) Plan ......................................................
Part III
“Ephraim Shall Be Valiant Men”
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
“Who’s on First?” ……………………...............................
Counterstrike ………….......................................................
The Devil’s in the Details ....................................................
Part IV
“Unless You Become as One of These Little Ones”
Chapter 9
Moscow and the Magic Kingdom .....................................
Epilogue & Theological Afterword ..............................................................
Appendix 1 Theological Discussions with Fr. Bernie..................................
Appendix 2 Is This Left Behind Theology?.............................................
Appendix 3 How to Read Revelation, Antichrist, Signs of the End…....
Appendix 4 Does the Magisterium Teach Only One View of Prophecy
Endnotes....................................................................................................
From Pope Pius XII, Summi Pontificatus…
23.
24.
25.
Venerable Brethren, as We write these lines the terrible news
comes to Us that the dread tempest of war is already raging despite
all Our efforts to avert it. When We think of the wave of suffering
that has come on countless people who but yesterday enjoyed in
the environment of their homes some little degree of well-being,
We are tempted to lay down Our pen. Our paternal heart is torn by
anguish as We look ahead to all that will yet come forth from the
baneful seed of violence and of hatred for which the sword today
ploughs the blood-drenched furrow.
But precisely because of this apocalyptic foresight of disaster,
imminent and remote, We feel We have a duty to raise with still
greater insistence the eyes and hearts of those in whom there yet
remains good will to the One from Whom alone comes the
salvation of the world—to One Whose almighty and merciful
Hand can alone calm this tempest—to the One Whose truth and
Whose love can enlighten the intellects and inflame the hearts of
so great a section of mankind plunged in error, selfishness, strife
and struggle, so as to give it a new orientation in the spirit of the
Kingship of Christ.
Perhaps—God grant it—one may hope that this hour of direct
need may bring a change of outlook and sentiment to those many
who, till now, have walked with blind faith along the path of
popular modern errors unconscious of the treacherous and insecure
ground on which they trod. Perhaps the many who have not
grasped the importance of the educational and pastoral mission of
the Church will now understand better her warnings, scouted in the
false security of the past. No defense of Christianity could be more
effective than the present straits. From the immense vortex of error
and anti-Christian movements there has come forth a crop of such
poignant disasters as to constitute a condemnation surpassing in its
conclusiveness any merely theoretical refutation.
26.
Hours of painful disillusionment are often hours of grace—“a
passage of the Lord” (cf. Exodus xii. 11), when doors which in
other circumstances would have remained shut, open at Our
Savior’s words: “Behold, I stand at the gate and knock”
(Apocalypse iii. 20) …
Given at Castel Gandolfo, near Rome, on the twentieth day of October,
in the year of Our Lord, 1939, the first of Our Pontificate.
From Pope Pius XII, Summi Pontificatus Encyclical of His Holiness Pope Pius XII, On the Unity of
Human Society October 20, 1939. Copyright, Vatican Publishing House, Libreria Editrice Vaticana,
Vatican City, 1939.
*
(Quoted from Papal Encyclicals Online, http://www.papalencyclicals.net/
Pius12/P12SUMMI.HTM, accessed 3 May 2009)
PREFACE
Why
write another book about the end times? Arnold
Schwarzenegger pretty well covered it in the recent blockbuster film End
of Days. Left Behind (Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins) has no less than
twelve books on the shelves. A Canticle for Liebowitz (Walter M. Miller
Jr.) has been a cult classic for decades in this genre, with That Hideous
Strength (C. S. Lewis). Now Michael D. O’Brien has written a superlative
story on the apocalypse in Father Elijah.
Even Ayn Rand, an atheism-inclined agnostic (but a nice one) wrote
what may be the greatest novel of all time, Atlas Shrugged, about the
collapse of society from its own evil ways, and its subsequent renewal. In
2003, novelist Cormac McCarthy wrote the heart-wrenching Pulitzer
Prize-winning apocalypse, The Road, released as a Viggo Mortensen
movie. What’s left to do?
Even the obtuse questions of theological dispute between Catholics and
Left Behind have been well covered now by Dr. Paul Thigpen in his very
enjoyable book The Rapture Trap.1 The Rapture Trap, by the way, is a
good introduction to the Christian faith. (Also see Appendix 2 to this book,
which critiques Left Behind theology.)
My primary reason for writing this book is that modern man seems to
have no sense of urgency about the end of days. I would like my readers to
understand that it is time to act, it is time to “do something” as it says on
the Doritos bag. “Sense of urgency” doesn’t mean panic. Sense of urgency
is about midway between panic and total complacency. Perhaps
“reasonable concern” would be a better choice of words.
Clearly, everyone is dismayed at the news headlines, a horror story that
has continued now for decades. But what are we doing about it, that is, on
an individual basis? Wars, earthquakes, tidal waves, hurricanes, famine . . .
everyone knows the hour is late. It is therefore perhaps more correct to say
that the message of Jacob is not so much that it is time to act, but that it is
possible to act.
One point at least that most, if not all, theologies are able to agree upon
is that Christians will be present for the crux of Armageddon, the last
battle with evil, for we are the instruments of God’s victory in that battle.
God’s people, will constitute the bonfires (flames of the Holy Spirit) that
singe the evil “chaff” of the harvest (Obadiah 1:18; Zechariah 12:6;
Malachi 3:19-21). We will be God’s “stately war horse” (Zechariah 10:3;
Malachi 3:20-21; Micah 4:13). Our role in the end of days, the role of all
God-fearing people, and how to fulfill that role, is the primary theme of
this book.
In the Catholic view, the themes of the book of Revelation have been
underway in a real sense for two thousand years since Christ’s victory on
the cross. The scripture itself says as much, viz. John 12:31, “Now is the
time of judgment on this world;” and 1 Peter 4:17, “For it is time for the
judgment to begin with the household of God; if it begins with us, how
will it end for those who fail to obey the Gospel of God?” Many of the
other primary themes of the end times have been ongoing since Christ as
well, including his glorious reign from heaven, the struggle with the
Antichrist (1 John 4:3), and the fog of deception imposed by the deceiver
of 2 Thessalonians 2. This has all been ongoing.
Isaiah 7 tells us that the tribulation was another major eschatological
theme ushered in with Christ. The Roman martyrdoms that immediately
followed certainly underscored the point, as did Christ’s own words: “Do
not think that I have come to bring peace. I have not come to bring peace
but a sword.” (Matthew 10:34-36)
In Jacob we come to contemplate more fully some of the potential
manifestations of the last battle, the plausible meanings of prophetic
scripture’s dire forebodings for the future. Following the view suggested
by Caritas of Birmingham, AL in the Words of the Harvesters newsletter,
vol. #24, Dec. 2005, I, and no doubt many others, now contend that the
event of Armageddon is most correctly viewed as having commenced with
World War One—almost visibly so, one wants to say. The words of Pope
Pius XII at the outbreak of WWII suggest this possibility: “We believe that
the present hour is a dread phase of the events foretold by Christ. It seems
that darkness is about to fall upon the world. Humanity is in the grip of a
supreme crisis.”2 The excerpt of Pius XII’s encyclical Summi Pontificatus
reproduced in the front matter of this book echoes a similar feeling.
In this book I offer the hypothesis that at the beginning of the first
World War Satan was released from the pit per the vision of Pope Leo
XIII. For accounts of this vision see Dr. William Zambrano’s Catholic
excellent Prophecy Website at http://www.catholicprophecy.info/ and
author-theologian Emmett O’Regan’s very interesting Web blog at
http://unveilingtheapocalypse.blogspot.co.uk/2013/05/prophecy-of-popeleo-xiii-update.html).
Since the author of 1 Peter observes that the devil was already out
prowling around as of the first century, another plausible view of the
recent surge of evil commencing with WWI is that St. Michael the
Archangel has stepped aside, removing the restraint from “the deceiver”
per 2 Thessalonians 2. This allows an onslaught of evil so dramatically
obvious that it has the effect of revealing Satan’s presence in our world.
Whatever the underlying theological events to WWI & II may
ultimately have been, Dr. Zambrano informs us that one reliable report
(more detail on this event is given in Fr. Gabriele Amorth’s book, An
Exorcist Tells His Story at the beginning of the appendices) has it that in a
vision near the altar Pope Leo saw Christ and Satan in conversation
concerning the devil’s final assault on the Church. This vision occurred
circa 1885-1886, approximately forty years prior to the outbreak of
hostilities to commence WWI. What Pope Leo saw there in that vision, a
host of demonic spirits converging on Rome, is consonant with the
outpouring of demons from the pit at Revelation 9 or the release of Satan
from the pit at Revelation 20 where the “beloved city” is surrounded by
Satan’s forces. Fr. Amorth reports that Fr. Domenico Pechenino revealed
in a 1995 magazine article that Pope Leo immediately composed a set of
prayers beseeching God to send Satan back to hell and instructed the
prayers be distributed throughout the Church for regular use. This of
course suggests that Satan had in fact been released from the pit on or
about the time of Pope Leo’s vision circa 1885.
It makes a certain amount of sense. The demons are released; they have
several decades to do their foul work; and we are cursed with two massive
world wars as a consequence, plus innumerable smaller atrocities. It also
makes sense to view the event as a spiritual instance of Armageddon as
well as Satan’s final assault upon the Church. Other plausible
consequences of the release of the demons from hell are the production of
both the great apostasy and one or more major events of tribulation for the
Church.
We can’t say we weren’t warned beforehand. Pope Leo immediately
alerted the Church, instituting a worldwide prayer campaign circa 1886,
and St. Mary appeared at Fatima, Portugal in 1917, in the midst of WWI
during the birth month of atheistic Communism in Russia (October 1917),
where she forewarned of further impending disaster if humanity did not
return to an active faith via renewed devotion to prayer.
One need merely note the moral decline of society since 1950 and the
daily news headlines to give credibility to the theory that the tribulation
and the great apostasy are both presently underway. I am hardly the first to
note this. Protestant deliverance ministers have been screaming it from
rooftops for decades now, and even Catholic scholars like Blessed John
Henry Newman (Cardinal) equated Modernism and neo-Modernism with
the great apostasy. (See Fr. Vincent P. Miceli’s introduction to Newman’s
Antichrist sermons in A Confederacy of Evil: Cardinal Newman on the
End Times, page xiv.)
To see that the manifestation of evil in the horrors of the two world
wars was sufficient to ascribe the term “Armageddon,” after having first
prayed for spiritual discernment, one need merely review the video
documentaries on WWI and WWII. These include the Jewish holocaust
and other unthinkable tragedies among civilian populations, such as the
tortuous life in the Russian gulags—not to mention massive military
casualties.
The spiritual message that rings out over and over again from those
films as one views the bodies of mothers and their little children piled in
heaps from the Nazi massacres of Jewish families in concentration camps;
hundreds of thousands of frozen bodies of young idealistic teenage
soldiers of both sides left on the battlefield in Russia and Germany; the
young heroic kamikazes of Japan so poignantly summoning the last
courage to bravely salute comrades before flying off to certain death; the
barely living skeletons in the prisoner of war camps; the unthinkable
cruelties Stalin committed against millions of his own people in the gulags
during and after the war; families who froze and starved; the brutal rapes
of young girls who were really only children; the horror of thousands of
families burned to death or asphyxiated when Dresden and Tokyo were
fire-bombed into massive infernos; the relentless bombing of London; the
children horribly mutilated by the atomic blasts in Japan, where people
watched the skin suddenly melt from their own hands and face having no
forewarning or idea of what was happening . . . the message that rings out
over and over again is, “It couldn’t get worse than this.” What could
Armageddon be or do that would be worse?
No, there are two messages. First, “This has to be part of
Armageddon,” and second “This is evil!” And it is. Things so horrific
could only come from Satan. Thus, it is entirely possible and consonant
with scripture that we experienced a primary manifestation of the biblical
theme of Armageddon in the events of WWI and WWII.
Unfortunately that theme has continued into the present. Atrocities no
less appalling have been recently documented in the Balkans, the Middle
East, Indonesia, Sudan/Darfur, various African and South and Central
American nations, and many others. As I write these words genocide is
being perpetrated against 2.5 million people in selected tribes that are out
of political favor in the Sudan.
The total event of Armageddon includes more than world and regional
war. It includes a substantial, though invisible, spiritual battle as well, one
that can also produce tragedy. The invisible war, too, is well underway: the
devil’s final assault on the Church and everyone in it.
There have been many key moments in history where mankind has
stood at important crossroads, but none more critical than the dread hour
we now face. With the advent of Armageddon we must finally face the
truth. It is time. We must put on the armor of God and stride forward to
victory. We must renounce evil and affirm Christ and all that is good once
and for all. No more wavering; no more protecting our pet sins (and
becoming vulnerable to Satan’s attacks because of them). They all have to
go. We have to start living right again, and being good compassionate,
caring people. We must each do what we can in our own small way. It will
eventually add up to victory. Forward Christian soldiers!
Do not fear them, the evil ones, the demons. Fear God only . . . and
love Him . . . with all your heart, mind, and soul.
Rick Harrison
Bloomington, Indiana, USA
1 January 2009
Recommended Video Documentaries
CBS Video series World War I: The Complete Story
AIM International Television, Great Souls series, which includes,
among other relevant titles, Elie Wiesel, Alexander Solzhenitsyn and
Pope John Paul II who lived through terrible events of war and
oppression typical of the larger series of tribulation/Armageddon
related events since WWI.
Paramount Home Video, Shoah series, recollections of survivors of the
Nazi death camps.
A & E Video series (26 episodes), The World at War
NBC, Victory at Sea, distributed by Embassy Home Entertainment
BBC Video, The Battle of the Atlantic
BBC Video, BBC History of World War II Battlefields
A & E Biography series, including Joseph Stalin: Red Terror
La Mancha Productions/PolyGram video series Battlefield, especially
The Battle of Stalingrad
PBS Home Video series, Russia’s War: Blood Upon the Snow
Questar Video series, Why We Fight (especially Volume 2, The Nazi
Strike/ The Battle of Russia)
ABC News/MPI Home Video, Hiroshima: Why the Bomb was Dropped,
Peter Jennings Reporting, An ABC News Special
Questar Video series, Brothers in Arms: WWII and the Korean War
(especially Volumes 5 & 6, The Korean War—Our Time in Hell)
PBS Home Video series, Korean War Stories, Hosted by Walter
Cronkite CBS News Video series, Vietnam War with Walter
Cronkite
WGBH Boston/Central Independent VLUK/Antenne-2 France/LRE
Productions Vietnam: A Television History
Human Rights Video Project, Women Make Movies, Calling the Ghosts
(Bosnia/Herzegovina)
Globalvision, Inc./Chip Taylor Communications, Rights and Wrongs
series, Kosovo and Tajikistan
PBS Video Frontline series, The Gulf War, Parts I & II
Image Bearer Pictures, LLC, As We Forgive, survivors of Rwandan
genocide prepare to face those who killed their families, directed by
Laura Waters Hinson, narrated by Mia Farrow. Gold Winner,
Student Academy Awards, Best Documentary 2008
PROLOGUE
In late Spring of the year 2030 an event occurred that was in large part
beyond the ken of humanity. In the early hours of morning a number of
people awoke from sleep. A startling sound rang out. It rang at regular
intervals of a second or two duration, pulsing with enormous intensity.
There are no words for the quality of this sound. Shrill, strident, a
piercing series of notes, yet notes that came from no physical source on
this earth. The odd sounds were intimately accompanied by preternatural
light and a (seemingly) holy presence. The event continued for a scarce
few moments of “real time”—if divine encounters happen in real time—
but the impact was enduring.
Great blessings came to those caught up in this experience, Garfield
and Father Bernie among them. Most considered the phenomenon an
angelic trumpet call, some kind of prelude or manifestation of the Lord’s
return. Others were not so sure. They chose to hold their opinion in
abeyance pending a period of discernment—there are bad angels as well as
good ones. The only persons to correctly identify the odd sound were
Garfield and four-year-old Julia Scranton. She told her incredulous mother
she had heard God whistling.
PART I
“Until the Thousand Years Were Ended”
1 Peter 5:8-11 NAB
Be sober and vigilant. Your opponent the Devil is prowling
around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.
Resist him, steadfast in faith, knowing that your brothers and
sisters throughout the world undergo the same sufferings. The
God of all grace who called you to his eternal glory through
Christ Jesus will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and
establish you after you have suffered a little. To him be
dominion forever. Amen.
*Note to the reader: The main character in this book, Father Bernie happens to be
a priest with a good sense of humor. His military buddies have been through
some tough years with Fr. Bernie when he was an Army chaplain. They tend to
interact informally with Fr. Bernie—and they are not yet Catholic. I would like to
make clear that, despite the informality among these men, nothing in this book is
meant to detract from the sacerdotal dignity of the priesthood.
CHAPTER 1
“Spooky is Right”
Spring 2030
Saturday, 7:30 p.m.
As the cherry flavored smoke of Father Bernie’s pipe wafts around
the cozy old-fashioned rectory he puts down his pen to remove the longstemmed Church Warden from his mouth, pausing over today’s entry in
the secret end times journal.
“The reference again?”
“Zechariah 10 and 12”
“You’re sure it was an angel, not a demonic imposter?”
“I received a great blessing, Father.” Garfield stretches his enormous
frame and peeks through the curtains at waning sunlight. I hope the
demons don’t come out again tonight; I need some rest.
“Very well, add it to the journal. Let’s see, we now have Zechariah 10
and 12, Obadiah, Micah 4, and Malachi 3, with allusions to a Christian
move in the military forces of the West. I think it is time we started taking
this seriously.”
“I agree, Father; we should contact someone in the Church. How about
Opus Dei? They are close to the pope.”
“Fine. Let me know the moment you find out something. I’m going to
The Beanery to do some recruiting. We will need to build a team for this.”
“OK. I’ll step over to the chapel and pray for your success.”
Garfield places the journal into Father Bernie’s wall safe and spins the
tumblers. “Goodnight, Father.”
“Goodnight, Garfield. See you Tuesday. Keep praying; who knows
what happens next.”
***
Fingering the items in his portfolio, Joe thoughtfully scans the
customers in the dimly lit café. Perhaps I’ll sit down at Clayton’s table.
No, I can’t do that; he’ll just laugh me to scorn.
Clayton spots Joe leaning against the chrome and red patent leather ice
cream bar. He wiggles two fingers at the waiter who is just leaving with
his order and waves Joe over.
“Joe, can I confirm you for Trivial Pursuit Wednesday? Margaret is
planning the meal.”
“Yes, I think so, Clayton.”
After catching up on work and mutual friends, Joe takes the first pause
as his opportunity.
“The oddest thing happened . . . ”
The Italian milkshakes arrive preempting his disclosure. Sampling the
fresh Columbian espresso and premium chocolate, the urgency fades.
“Thanks Clayton, I owe you one.”
“No problem. Really—something odd happened, in West Lafayette?
Quick, call the Sentinel!” Clayton reaches for his shake, dipping the
spoon into mounds of whipped cream and cinnamon. Not to worry, at
6’7” he can handle it. I’ll work it off in the gym. Three years of power-
lifting competitions since retirement have added several inches of muscle
to the iron frame chiseled by twenty-years of Air Force pararescue.
Clayton nudges the empty stool out a bit, places his feet up and relaxes.
“It’s odd; but first, can I trust you?” Leaning the fuzzy brown head
that sits atop a very average frame in Clayton’s direction and raising
matching eyebrows, Joe emphasizes, “This has to be privileged.” Having
spoken, the redundancy strikes him. Clayton is the most trustworthy man
in several counties—bodyguard to the rich and famous, and a Medal of
Honor winner.
“OK, you have my word; it’s privileged.” Leaning back to savor the
drink, Clayton scratches his fresh orange military style razor cut, still
smelling of barber talc and lime, baffled as to what Joe might be up to.
“I heard something,” Joe reveals.
Whistle stop gossip, Clayton concludes too hastily. Moving on, he
mentally reviews tonight’s TV Guide listing. Science fiction marathon at
8:30! He’ll have to swing by the store and grab some corn curls, a few
sodas for the kids.
“OK, here’s the odd part, Clayton. I didn’t hear it in the usual way.
Telepathy—believe it or not I heard something telepathically.” Joe props
himself against the table. Come disparaging comment, abject ridicule or
even a straightjacket, I don’t care; I have spoken the truth.
“Telepathically!”
Joe confirms, still bracing for the worst.
“I’ll keep my word. But you are . . . uh” Clayton clears his throat,
squinting at Joe as if he might have missed some indication of instability.
“I mean . . . you’re feeling OK—right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. This actually . . . ” Joe leans over and hisses
“happened” at his best friend through clenched teeth, allowing the
exaggerated grimace to suggest perhaps the Hulk sitting on a tack or
Tolkien’s fighting Urukai in a death embrace.
Smiling at the dramatization, Clayton continues his challenge. “How
do you know you didn’t just hear yourself thinking?”
“It was different. First of all, it wasn’t the kind of thing I think: I am
not in the habit of blessing myself. Second, I wasn’t thinking it at the
time; and ‘C’ it was simple and clear. Someone spoke to me
telepathically. They said ‘Joe, God bless you.’”
Clayton begins to suspect this might have actually happened. “Did you
recognize the voice?”
“I think so—Father Bernie.”
“That is odd.” Odd was not entirely unwelcome to Clayton. West
Lafayette, Indiana offered little diversion compared to his dramatic career
overseas with the military. He was bored and knew it, the notable
exceptions being Margaret and the kids. After twenty years of antiterrorist response, hostage rescue missions, and national security
deployments, he finally has some time to spend with his family.
“That’s not all—and you’re still sworn to secrecy. Today my boss,
Steve, came over. Steve’s a great guy, by the way. He served in Special
Operations Command too, none of which he can talk about for another ten
years.”
“So he said. We met at the Habitat for Humanity construction site last
week, building affordable homes for hurricane evacuees. Now, there’s a
Christian ministry that’s changing the world!”
Joe nods agreement. “Anyway, the oddest thing happened.”
“More odd than telepathy?”
“Maybe. Steve thought I was oppressed by a demon.”
Clayton coughs. This is unexpected. Taking a draught of the throatfreezing concoction in front of him, he checks Joe’s rugged Scots-Irish
face for signs of a set-up. This could all be a practical joke. Finding no
indications of a joke, he dismisses the incident as the product of Joe’s
overactive imagination. His gaze wanders to the glass door and large
window up front, then to the headlights passing slowly down Main Street.
He takes a deep breath, exhaling a whisper: “Senior Master Sergeant
Delaney . . . retired.”
Technical Sergeant Joe Scranton, retired, smiles at his reverie.
“Retired” Clayton repeats, adjusting his position for greater comfort . .
. and back home for good. Cool spring air streams through as a family
comes in for ice cream. The scent of lilac blossoms comes with them, as
strong as perfume. It recalls Clayton’s happy childhood in Monon. Life
was simpler then. Armageddon was a page in the Bible, not a page on
your desk calendar.
“Clayton?” Joe calls Clayton back to the present. Joe reaches into his
backpack to retrieve the icebreaker he had prepared. “Here, Steve gave
me these; I thought you might be interested.”
Taking the items, Clayton reads aloud, “Evolution as a Religion, by
Mary Midgley, I’ll take a look. What’s this one?”
“Darwin’s Black Box, by Michael Behe. They explain how the bogus
myth of accidental evolution has been imposed upon the public mindset
minus proper evidence. It’s a vacuous political production of the atheistic
side of the scientific culture. Evolution seems real enough, but it certainly
wasn’t accidental.3
“Oh, and here’s the Web address for the archaeological research team
at BASE Institute that found Noah’s Ark!”4
“Noah’s Ark! How about that! Sorry I ignored you; slipped into a
daydream I guess. Where were we? Oh, yes. Whatever gave Steve the
idea you were possessed by a demon?”
“Oppressed, Clayton; there’s a difference. Oppression is not so severe.
Anyway, Steve’s busy, he didn’t really explain. We’re friends, perhaps he
felt he didn’t have to. I apparently did or said something out of character.
At his level of faith I suppose you begin to trust your instincts.”
“I suppose. You did remind him the Exorcist was just a movie?”
“I happen to know the Exorcist is based upon a true story of an
exorcism performed by the Catholic Church in St. Louis in 1949, and it’s
not the only one. Thousands have been done, though mostly in Europe.5 I
did hint at the fact that my head wasn’t spinning around, and that I hadn’t
levitated—I only do that when my tax refund comes back.6
Clayton laughs.
“Elizabeth said I could make a down-payment on a sports car this year.
I love that woman,” Joe confesses.
“She’s a good one. You might want to keep her. But what did Steve do
about the exorcism, chain you to the wall and burn a crucifix into your
forehead?”
“No, nothing so dramatic. He asked my permission to pray for me, I
gave it, and he prayed. He cast the thing out with a prayer—as simple as
that. He didn’t command the demon to leave in the name of Jesus Christ
as I expected. He didn’t wrestle with it, curse it and punch it with holy
water. In fact, he ignored it completely. Sais the foul things aren’t worth
our attention.
“Steve said that lay Christians should never confront demons directly.
It is too dangerous. Current Church policy forbids lay exorcisms. The
Church has reserved exorcism to the Bishops and their delegates, the
priests.
“Laymen can, however, effectively deliver and heal afflicted persons
with prayer—and should. Christ’s victory is fully extended to those who
affirm it with faith. All Christians can drive out demons with prayer, but
they should never confront the demons while doing it. An exorcism is
therefore seldom required; prayers of healing, when offered with love of
God and the afflicted person, get the job done.
“Full demonic possession is rare, the news headlines notwithstanding.
Cases that, given sufficient time for prayer, support and friendship to
work, do not respond, and the clearly urgent and dramatically obvious
cases must be referred to the Church for resolution. Steve has a letter from
the priest who is chief exorcist at the diocese of Rome, explaining it.7
Steve is a very devout Catholic.”
“I respect devout Christians. I wish my own faith were stronger. You
talk as if you think there actually was a demon. You’re starting to spook
me out, here.”
“I can’t rule it out. I have always tended to dismiss spooky things as
imaginary—but demons are in the Bible. I felt much better after the
prayer. Prayer has affected me that way since I was a child.”
“Well, I will at least admit that you’ve established ‘odd’ at this point.
In fact, I’ll go a bit further.” Clayton puts down six dollars. “I’m buying
your next one at Kilroy’s—and the sooner the better. Let’s change the
subject, shall we; talk of the supernatural gives me the heebie-jeebies.
What else is happening of great interest?”
“Well, Russia, Iran and Syria are holding secret talks again. They’re
moving tanks around—lots of tanks. We’ve gone to DEFCON 3.”
“That’s a little too interesting. In England, Prime Minister James was
livid. The Brits aren’t going to stand for it. Europe is a military anthill by
now. Some of our lesser-known forward military locations are
brandishing hardware the public has never seen.
“I know it,” Joe confirms. “The spooks in the war plans section out at
the base refused to have a beer with me. Not until this is over. They’re
afraid they might say something classified. Whatever they are up to, they
are very busy doing something. Let’s hope things cool down in a hurry.
With seven years to go in the Retired Reserve, if Congress pulls in retirees
to fight a major war . . . ”
“Right, I think we should check our uniforms—just in case.”
“I’m heading over to military clothing first thing Monday to pick-up a
field jacket and jump boots.”
“Take my advice, Joe; throw in a compass, survival knife, and first aid
kit…a few of the excellent Israeli combat wound bandages. You may
never need them, but it pays to be prepared.”
“You would know, if anyone does. I’ll add them to the list.” By now
the adrenalin is flowing in both of them.
“What else is new?”
“Well, back on the home front, the kids are cracking me up again.
They are at that age, four and six, you know—just too cute. We are into
reading stories now. I read them the Big Friendly Giant by Roald Dahl
last week. It was fun.”
“Big Friendly Giant . . . ? No, I think it’s called The BFG, isn’t it? I
read that to my kids a few years back.”
“I stand corrected, The BFG.”
“Now wait just a minute before you move on . . . there was something
odd about that giant. Yes . . . he did levitate! Brrrrp!”
Joe has to chuckle at his big musclebound friend. “Yeah. The kids
thought that was the funniest thing. The mere mention of a soda made
them giggle for days. Children are our most honest literary critics, you
know.”
“They are our most honest everything. I seem to recall that the lovable
self-propelled giant also had difficulties with language. He had to invent
his own version of the Queen’s English, being too large to attend primary
school. One felt downright sorry for the poor bloke.”
“Oh, his version of the language didn’t turn out so bad, really. He
would undoubtedly have been one of the West’s great philosophers, had
the situation been real.”
“No question, just ahead of Nietzsche, Hume, Machiavelli, and now,
in modern times, our very own Richard Dawkins—guys so brilliant they
can’t find the laws of God written on their own hearts.”
“Way ahead of them.”
“What else have you read to them?”
“Well, Julia likes The Berenstein Bears. We read the one on pollution
last night, the one with ‘Professor Actual Factual’ in it. They love stories.
They’re just too cute. It’s The Boxcar Children next, and then The Hardy
Boys.
“The kids already have a fondness for the Bible. We read a few verses
each night before bed. I decided that what is wrong with the world today
is that we are not teaching our children a real friendship with God.”
“Precisely right.”
“We should tuck them in at night with a wink and a hug, reminding
them that God loves us and will protect us in our sleep. That way, they
will meet God in their hearts before the world gets a chance to teach them
otherwise. Knowing that God is real, they will be immunized against the
incessant materialist propaganda that has been woven into every aspect of
this convoluted experience we call modern life.”
“Right again.”
“Kids can surprise you. As I was tucking Julia in last night a tear came
into her eye and she said, ‘God is holy, Daddy!’ And with that magical
twinkle that only children can have she whispered ‘God loves us. How
much is a secret. But he told me it’s a lot!’ ”
“Sometimes, Clayton, I think children are our teachers, not the other
way ’round.”
“Christ confirmed it: ‘Unless you become as one of these little ones
you will not enter heaven.’ You’ll have to protect the little ones; there’s a
lot of evil out there,” Clayton reminds. He has seen his share of it.
“I hope the evil is not as ambulatory as Steve thinks it is, out walking
around in other people’s bodies. You know something Clayton? Life has
become surreal. Sometimes I think the whole world, present company
excluded, has gone nuts!”
Right on cue, Father Bernie, unbeknownst to Joe, slips over from the
ice cream bar to stand behind Joe’s chair.
“My own observations tend to support your mass insanity hypothesis,
‘Sigmund,’” Clayton remarks. Passing an accusing glance toward Father
Bernie, he silently mouths, “If the shoe fits . . . ”
Missing his meaning, Joe continues.
“The senseless terrorism that’s been going on, the nonsense that passes
for intelligent commentary on the news, junk shows all over TV—and,
have you noticed how people look on the street? Something is definitely
wrong with society. People’s pants fall off them—and their faces. They
look awful. The whole thing is unnatural . . . almost—” He’s cut off.
“Demonic” comes matter-of-factly from behind.
Startled, Joe turns to find a priest standing immediately behind him.
“Oh, Father Bernie.”
Joe and Clayton exchange a conspiratorial glance.
“I didn’t notice you come in. Did you just get here?”
“No, Joe, I’ve been standing here since ‘I did or said something out of
character.’ In fact, I heard the whole thing from the counter—you’ve
been exorcised!”
Father puts his hand on Joe’s shoulder, leaning on him with much
meaning. “Couldn’t hurt your personality.”
“It’s been said.”
Father Bernie corrects himself. “Actually, I should have said healed by
prayers of deliverance; only Bishops and their delegates can perform the
Holy Rite of Exorcism.”
“So Steve has been telling me. Good to see you, Father. All well at St.
Mary’s?”
“Yes, and no.”
Father Bernie, an athletic middle-aged black intellectual, handsomely
distinguished by graying around the temples, is a military veteran himself.
Being closely matched, he and Joe often have real battles on the tennis
courts.
Father eyes the Italian milkshakes. “Got cinnamon and whipped cream
I see.”
“Yep.”
“Add the double shot of espresso this time?” (Father’s favorite)
“Uh-huh,” Joe hums over the oversized straw.
“The espresso does make it good!”
Father deliberates about one for himself. “If my charity regimen could
handle it . . . I’d sit down and join you.” His willpower wins out by the
smallest margin over his taste buds.
“Charity regimen?”
“Yes, I allow myself only one treat a month during Lent. The price of
the other two or three I would normally have goes to the poor.”
“That’s a great idea. Mind if I borrow it?”
“I beg you to borrow it! The poor urgently depend upon us to make
our best effort for them, as we would depend upon them should the
situation be reversed.”
Clayton assumes the demeanor of a police inspector, poking his large
finger into Father’s chest. “But if this is your off day for treats, Father,
what were you doing at the ice cream bar?”
“I only had a cappuccino, if you must know. It’s not a treat. It keeps
me awake long enough to put the finishing touches on my book. Writ-ing
a book is the most exhausting thing you can ever do. Take my word for it.
I could probably justify the espresso shake for the same reason, but I’m
not going to press my luck with God.
“Listen, why don’t the two of you stop by St. Mary’s when you have
some time, and we’ll talk. I could use your help on something.”
“Sure Father.” Joe enthusiastically agrees. “Always glad to help. It
will probably be Tuesday before I can make it. Maybe we could do
lunch?”
“Great! See you Tuesday for lunch.” Breathing a sigh of relief, Father
turns to go, but calls back over his shoulder: “Keep an eye on the news. I
don’t like the way things are shaping up overseas.”
“Right, Father. Goodnight.”
Turning to Clayton, Joe remembers something. “That reminds me, I
heard a good story today.”
“Well, it’s against my better judgment—but let’s hear it,” Clayton says
with a grin.
“OK, I have this from not so reliable sources, but I am convinced that
it is an absolutely true story.”
“When have I ever questioned your sources?”
“Well then . . .
It seems that a retired Catholic gentleman, Mr. Smith, had
been diligently following the lottery for many years, playing
the same numbers each week; had them posted on his
refrigerator door, you know—specialized in power ball. He
never doubted that he would someday win. Sadly, on the day
he did win, he was so ill in bed with a heart condition he was
unable to check the numbers.
His wife, however, knowing he would eventually ask, did
remember to check them. Calling the store to find out how
much the lottery was worth that week, she was stunned when
the clerk told her 225 million. She was in a quandary as to
what to do. The news, although good, could very well kill her
husband in his weakened condition. She debated for several
days and then finally called her Bishop, who only lived down
the street, and had been a family friend for many years.
“No problem, I’ll come right over. I’ll break it to him
gently—he’ll be fine. See you in fifteen minutes.”
True to his word, Bishop Walker was on her doorstep
ringing the bell in fifteen minutes.
“This way Bishop, but be gentle won’t you.”
‘Not to worry, not to worry, everything will be fine.’
So, the Bishop greeted his old friend, sat down and after a
few moments of small talk, worked the conversation around
to hobbies.
‘You’ve been playing those same numbers on the lottery
for thirty years now, Paul, what would you do if you actually
won?’
Paul never hesitated. ‘I know exactly what I’d do,
Bishop. I’ve been planning it for years. If I won the lottery,
the first thing I’d do is to give you half my old friend.’
The Bishop immediately fainted away, dead of a heart
attack.
“How’s that for a twist of fate?”
“Not bad,” Clayton chuckles. His watch says 8:10. “I have to go. See
you for lunch on Tuesday.”
“Later.”
Stepping into the clear night air and breathing deeply of the
invigorating scent of lilac, Clayton relaxes. This will be a great couple of
days. Twilight Zone, The Night Stalker, X-Files, a Robert Heinlein special
to boot, and both the original and Donald Sutherland versions of The
Body Snatchers. I better make that two six packs of soda . . . and a case of
popcorn. David and Jeanette always want popcorn with movies—and they
are growing so fast calories aren’t yet a problem.
Despite his children’s being eleven and fifteen now, they sat glued to
the sofa each under one of Dad’s powerful arms for the entire marathon.
The three of them remained happily in their childhood until Monday.
This, of course, is their way of catching up, Clayton having been so often
away with the Air Force. They never told their mother, Margaret, how
they missed Dad back then when they were toddlers, so afraid he would
never come home again. They believed their secret was safe because
Mom had never caught them crying themselves to sleep. But that’s over
now: Dad is home.
Margaret, just back from the Mall, slipped in and joined them for The
Body Snatchers and an enormous bowl of fresh buttered popcorn—she
knows. And she also enjoys snuggling up under those powerlifting arms.
***
Tuesday, 12:30 P.M.
Strolling across the plush lawn of St. Mary’s, Joe felt his mood
lighten. “I always feel good around Father Bernie. It’s not just his jokes
and dramatic impersonations. According to the stress management
experts, some people are just like that—eternal optimists. ‘Zappers’ I
think is what they call them. They lighten our load somehow, zapping us
with positive energy. Of course, there are the negative types as well,
people that will drain the energy right out of you if you give them half a
chance. I believe the psychological literature calls them . . . ”
“‘Buttockses’” Clayton interjects. “At least, that’s what the Nutty
Professor called them last night on the comedy playoff reruns. But even
the Nutty Professor knows that priests bless us with the Holy Spirit of
God.”
“Yes, that’s true, an amazing thing. But ‘Buttocks’ is grammatically
correct, as I believe The Professor pointed out. However, ‘sapper’ was the
word I was looking for. These people actually sap your strength.”
Clayton nods, “I know the term—and the people. It seems like the
world is filling up with the negative types: they’re ruining life as we know
it.”
“Precisely. Well, at least we’ve found an optimist in Father Bernie—
and his dramatic impersonations are to die for.”
Clayton laughs. “That much is certain. To his friends, he’s a funny
guy—outside the Church. But when he puts on those robes he carries the
full dignity of God’s presbyters. And while performing the Holy Mass he
acts in persona Christi, in the person of God. What an unimaginably
magnificent thing!”
“He’s a holy man., but also a good friend to those who know him.”
They pause to inspect the inscription on a small grave stone set into
the lawn: “IN MEMORY OF ALL THOSE CHILDREN WHO WERE
NEVER GIVEN THE CHANCE TO RUN AND PLAY.”
The main force of it hit them both at the same time.
Father Bernie happened out, noticing their bowed heads and emotional
expressions. “That’s a blessing! It happens there all the time. That was a
blessing from God.”
Joe, being nearer, responds for both. “It was powerful. Really a sad
thought, though—about the unborn children.”
Father crosses himself. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and
of the Holy Spirit, amen.” Looking up far beyond the rich blue
atmosphere of our earth, he smiles. “God takes good care of the little
dickenses when they leave this world. We should do as much while
they’re here.”
“Well said, Father, well said” Joe offers, planning a donation to
children’s charities.
“How’s your anti-abortion argument coming Joe? You go to court
soon, I understand.”
“Almost complete—it’s a strong case. I have a copy in my backpack.
Perhaps we can read through it at lunch. You can help me touch it up.”
“Great idea; I can’t wait to hear it. I need to step back into the office
and grab some things before we go. Why don’t you two come in for a
moment? Here, let me just get my briefcase out of the car.”
Though not Catholic, they gladly accept Father’s offer. St. Mary’s is a
fully imposing architectural marvel, Bedford stone and stained glass.
Blessed sacred art, sculptures, and magnificent woodcarvings everywhere
populate the large expanse of the cathedral. The sun peacefully basks the
interior in soft glowing colors. An ethereal mood dominates, lifting one’s
spirit inexorably upward and upward toward the gold trimmed dome until
. . . there . . . the cross suspended high overhead. The eyes can go no
further.
They love being inside the cathedral. Father Bernie knows this.
Clayton’s hunger demands his attention.
“Father, where are we eating today?”
“I don’t know. Where would you like to go?”
“There’s the steak house, Billy’s Pizza—how about The Beanery?”
“Perfect”—almost simultaneous from the other two. The Beanery did
have the good stuff.
They enter Father’s office. Many books are strewn and stacked about.
A beautiful string of burgundy wood Rosary beads with silver chain and
crucifix lies in the center of Father’s desk.
Joe, being a lover of books, takes in a few titles at a glance: The
Handbook for Spiritual Warfare, by Dr. Ed Murphy; Keeper of the Keys,
by Thomas McDermott; Newman: Light in Winter by Meriol Trevor;
Bible Concordance; Sign of Contradiction and Crossing the Threshold of
Hope both by Pope Saint John Paul II. And there is a beautiful one. What
a magnificent jacket! The Way of the Cross, by Benedict XVI.
Not all the authors are Catholic, notably Murphy, and Joe notices two
excellent books by Anglican theologian N. T. Wright in the ‘IN’ box:
Simply Christian, and Evil and the Justice of God. The love of books,
philosophy, and theology is something Joe and Father Bernie have in
common.
Father also has a nice leather bound ledger or journal of some kind
lying open on his desk. He quickly snatches it up, depositing it into the
wall safe. This is followed by a brisk spin of the tumblers. This rather
transparent tactic has failed in its purpose. Instead of protecting the
journal from discovery, Father Bernie has directed their attention to it.
“Check that out,” Father says with pride, handing Joe a softbound
manuscript. This is an extra printer’s proof of his new book, Darwin’s
New Clothes: A Critical Examination of the Accidental Theories of
Evolution.
“That’s my new one. I present a chapter to the University of
Evansville Philosophy Colloquium Saturday. You can keep that copy.
Here, I’ll autograph it for you.”
Father signs it with a flourish.
“Great, Father, thanks!” Joe means it. At forty-three he still gets as
excited about the exchange of ideas and original thought as he did in his
first Intro to Philosophy class in college.
Father grabs a shoulder bag from between two stacks, his reading
glasses, and a plaid English driving cap. They take a last appreciative
glance around the cathedral, and are on their way out again striding across
the freshly mown lawn in the sunlight.
Joe carefully loads himself into the back of Father’s bright yellow
‘bug.’ This has got to be fun to drive. Joe has admired Volkswagens for
years, but never quite got around to buying one. Clayton only just fits into
the front.
Breathing the cool forced air through the open window, Joe silently
counts the waves: nine, twelve, fourteen—fourteen waves from
parishioners in passing cars to the door of The Beanery. Not bad, even for
a Catholic priest. Father loves his flock, and they enthusiastically
reciprocate.
Having placed their orders, Joe begins to read from the legal brief:
Let’s go back to the start for a moment. Why don’t we consider
our unborn children persons whose right to life is protected under the
Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments of the Constitution? The language
of the Constitution does not explicitly rule them out. They have an
individual human genetic code distinct from their mother’s; and they
exhibit signs of life. Most have a 100% prognosis to become fully
functioning, independent adult persons. So why aren’t these
individually distinct living human beings considered persons in the
interim, pending certain and extremely rapid development through a
process nature itself requires? They will have a heartbeat as early as
21 days. Logically, as Pope John Paul II has said, what else could they
be, Aardvarks?8
A few further pages into it the food arrived and they agreed to study
the remainder in the library conference room next evening. As they leaned
into their hearty sandwiches, Father Bernie got the charismatic gleam in
his eye that was his trademark. Having known Father a long time, they
were forewarned that something was coming. They first met Father
Bernie in Iraq when he was a chaplain with the United States Army, the
others serving in the Air Force.
“Joe, are you a Christian?”
“What!?”
“Are you a Christian?”
“My friends at church seem to think I am!” Joe is not truly offended;
Father is known to be rarely serious outside the cathedral. The fact of the
matter is Joe is paying more attention to his sandwich than to Father
anyway. The horseradish mustard here is unique and the flavor of the
fresh smoked turkey and bacon club sandwich exceptional. He takes an
enormous bite. That Father Bernie is a real corker! Am I a Christian? Joe
is willing to play his usual role as straight man to Father’s jokes. It’s a
nice day; let’s see what else Father comes up with.
Joe wonders if all the priests are so comfortable and safe in God’s
hands that their joy just overflows in these odd ways . . . if they seem
lighthearted when in fact they are just happy—the way the rest of us could
be if we placed ourselves there as well.
Father’s facetious track record aside, something in his face signaled
today as an exception. He was serious.
“I mean, really a Christian, as in serving God, and not Satan. A lot
more people talk the talk than walk the walk.”
Clayton looks up with a start. His pastrami sandwich falls onto his lap,
and then smacks the hardwood floor. Constantly hungry from his extreme
weightlifting program, he glances down at the gourmet lunch with true
disappointment. He reaches out to recover it, but a snooty old lady across
the aisle gives him a disapproving look.
Being an avowed cynic of exaggerated social etiquette, Clayton stares
her down, his scowl passing the equivalent of a telepathic message:
nothing . . . significant . . . has . . . happened! A moment later as she looks
away he quickly snags the larger pieces in his massive grip, doing a
double take to ensure he wasn’t seen.
On Father’s cue, Joe had begun his move toward serious. He was
momentarily checked by Clayton’s comedic rescue of the sandwich. He
now returns to Father’s challenge.
“Wouldn’t that be visibly obvious? Black suit, bloody dagger, etc.?”
Joe gives Satanism no credibility. Studies in philosophical analysis
have led him to be skeptical—the, ‘if you can’t prove it with science, it
doesn’t exist’ approach. God is a notable, and perhaps the only, exception
to this rule for Joe. He feels the intelligent design argument is a sufficient
proof of God.
Father clearly disagrees concerning the visibility of Satanism: “It
would not necessarily be obvious, no. The devil’s work is all about
deception.”
Father Bernie, while respecting the disciplined methods of thought
used by philosophers and scientists, knows there are limitations, errors
and prejudices in philosophy and science nonetheless. In fact, his new
book details quite a few of those errors as well as the generally prevailing
academic prejudice against God.
Father studied at Oxford, taking a degree in philosophy before
Catholic seminary at the University of St. Thomas. A twenty-year stint in
the Army followed. Unknown to many, Father minored in drama. He is a
gifted though frustrated actor. Constantly on the lookout for dramatic
roles in local theatre, the lack of opportunity for artistic expression poses
a near Freudian conundrum for Father Bernie. The forced repression of
his singular passion for drama has, or so he has led the town to believe,
engendered a benign neurosis. The pretend affliction manifests itself in
Father Bernie’s regaling his friends with spontaneous dramatic outbursts.
For these he has become locally famous.
There was no denying that Father Bernie was generally the life of the
party, though he always took care to maintain his priestly dignity.
Something in Father’s tone today, however, was unexpected: drop-dead
serious—even ominous.
Joe leans in to study Father Bernie’s response. “Come on, no one
actually ‘serves’ Satan, do they Father?” Joe is hoping for a quick and
definite ‘no.’ He won’t get it.
In the next moment, Joe finds himself staring compulsively at the
portraits of famous authors smoking and sipping coffee together on the
café wall. Now he blinks twice, checks himself a third time, then has to
allow, that, yes, the portraits of Carl Sandberg and Robert Frost have
folded their arms. They now appear to be comically holding their smoke,
awaiting Father Bernie’s answer. Well, perhaps they have waited a long
time to see this truth revealed.
Sanity check, Joe thinks. He just manages to master these outré
thoughts when . . . there it is again, that surreal feeling! He quickly
dismisses the episode as a spike in blood pressure only to have Frost
demonstrably wink at him subsequent to Father Bernie’s “Unfortunately,
they do.” Now that actually happened!
Father’s response resonates accusingly across the room, posing a
blatant challenge to Joe’s lifelong conservative assumptions and
comfortable worldview. Joe prudently decides to keep the mural
observations to himself.
“People,” Father pauses for emphasis, “far too many people, do serve
the devil in an active way.” Glancing pointedly around the café, Father
passes as much meaning now with his eyes as with his words. “Judging
from your comments on how society has deteriorated, you must have
noticed some indirect evidence of this.”
Joe considers for a moment, taken aback by Father’s startling
revelation. “Well, the devil himself couldn’t have done more damage than
we’ve seen in the United States over the past thirty of forty years—I’ll
give you that much. That doesn’t prove an active satanic population:
rituals, sacrifices, all that mumbo jumbo.”
“Strictly speaking”—Father is forced to pause as a large muscular
patron sitting within earshot across the aisle distracts them. He is
grinning, nodding and jamming his fist toward the floor in the most
comical manner. Intentionally catching Joe’s eye, he nods disdainfully at
the “living” mural. “Beetle Juice, Beetle Juice,” he laughs. The patron
then breaks from his lunch to silently offer a prayer to Christ to remove
the poltergeist from the café wall.
Father Bernie pauses for a wave and nod of affirmation to the comic.
He knows there’s a maleficent spirit present. Father takes a moment to
pray the appropriate prayers of exorcism.
Recognizing a holy moment, Joe respectfully keeps silence for the
prayers, then inquires at the conclusion. “What were you doing there,
Father?”
“I was driving an evil spirit from the Café mural over there. The
thing’s been making faces at me since we sat down.”
“Oh,” is all Joe manages.
“Back to your comment. Strictly speaking, you’re right. The evil state
of society doesn’t prove a satanic culture; it merely suggests one. Smoke
doesn’t prove fire either, but there frequently is a fire. In this case, the fire
is harder to see in that the majority of satanic activities are quote unquote
underground, generally unseen. But they exist, which brings us to the
subject of needing your help. A team is forming and I’d like you and
Clayton to be on it.”
Joe, seeing no practical implications from their discussion, fails to
make the connection between ‘they exist’ and ‘team is forming.’ He
thinks the lecture is over and it is time to discuss the real reason for the
meeting.
“What kind of team are you forming, Father? I’m a little out of shape;
but,” he pauses as if considering an onerous burden that he might be
persuaded to bear for the sake of the community, “I could pitch if you
really need me.”
“I’m not forming the team.”
“Oh, who is forming it?”
“God!”
The hammer falls. Clayton slumps into his chair in sudden awareness.
His spiritual calling, dormant now for some thirty years, is reawakened.
Returning to that awesome day in his youth when the Lord first spoke his
name, Clayton sinks into the poignant state of awareness that author
Richard Bücke refers to as Cosmic Consciousness, the altered state less
reverently referred to in secular circles as an ‘aha experience,’ mysticism,
etc. Christians have even gone so far as to describe this as a personal
relationship with God!
The look Clayton gets from Father Bernie is full confirmation of both
God’s presence in this moment and of the unique earmarks of the larger
event. Somehow Clayton has always known . . . this would eventually
come to be in his lifetime. Something truly exceptional is happening. It’s
finally happening! But what is it exactly that’s happening?
Joe was slower than Clayton, not quite on the same page; but he got it
too. Father Bernie had something to say, and they’d both better hear it.
Father was such an expert with patience that one hardly noticed him
applying it.
“Now, let’s return to my question. Whom do you serve?”
Joe winces at the bluntness, but has nothing at all to hide.
“Well, I don’t claim to be a very good Christian—never have—but I
don’t serve the devil, that much I can tell you.” Then offhandedly, “A
little heavy today aren’t we, Father?”
“I have my reasons.”
Father leans across the corner of the chrome-trimmed glass table and
speaks more quietly.
“Joe, this is important. Have you accepted Christ as Savior? Formally,
I mean. Confessing your sins, repenting, being truly sorry, and asking Our
Lord’s forgiveness: full reconciliation?”
“I guess . . . not formally—not like that,” Joe responds, hastily adding
“I do believe in God, and in Jesus, though. I try to do the right thing and
help people when I can.”
Father Bernie reassures him. “That’s a great start—but not quite
enough. A full reconciliation is needed. A close personal friendship with
God is very possible—and certainly you are well on your way—but
confession is required to fully get there. Most of us have never been truly
bad people, but still there are times when we broke the rules on purpose,
when we rebelled against God and committed a mortal sin. We have to be
honest with ourselves and with God and admit that, do a lifetime
inventory, put the bad things out on the table, then ask God for
forgiveness and a chance to start over with a renewed friendship. You’ll
be surprised how good you feel when God grants you the chance to start
life over again, cleaned of any taint of past mistakes and sins. Life feels
fresh and new, and it leads on into eternity in paradise. God’s forgiveness
is a wonderful thing.”
“I’ll give that some serious thought, Father.”
Turning to Clayton to avoid singling Joe out, Father asks, “How about
you Clayton?” He knows the answer.
Father’s direct question calls Clayton back into focus.
“Yes, I have reconciled to God through Christ—a tremendous
experience—two really, in my case. It happened to me first as a teenager
listening to the Reverend Billy Graham on the radio late one starlit
summer night. I still remember the time, 11:00 PM. I was intoxicated with
the evening, the infinitude of the stars, youthful idealism—and then he
said it: ‘Just get out of your seats and come on down here and we’ll pray
together.’ I knelt to pray, and that was it. God forgave my past sins. And I
really did feel born again, weightless with the devil now off my back. Life
was full of joy again.
“God blessed me so powerfully that night! It was weeks before I
stopped crying tears of joy and shouting ‘God is real!’ at people I knew. I
resolved to be a youth evangelist. The next summer I signed up for the
Peace Corps.
“The Lord touched me again recently when I was shot pulling
Breminger out of that nest of terrorists in northern Yemen. I didn’t think
either one of us was going to make it. If you think your life doesn’t flash
before you, think again. Nothing like a near-death experience to aid a full
confession. Take my word for it . . . I made one.”
Gathering his emotions, Clayton defers direction of the conversation
back to Father.
A shadow passes, blocking the light, and they become aware of
someone roughly shaking Father Bernie’s hand—a veritable giant. It’s the
comic from across the aisle. He energetically departs with an odd “Got
your back, Father.”
The snooty old lady opposite Clayton pulls a magnificent gold cross
out of her bodice pocket. She puts a hand on Father’s shoulder as she gets
up to leave, “And so do I.”
Father Bernie smiles, and, with some conviction, returns to both, “Got
yours.”
This exchange holds no meaning for either Joe or Clayton, who don’t
yet know about Father’s end times study and prayer group.
“This is spiritual isn’t it, Father?” Joe less than astutely observes.
“Say again.”
“The stuff that’s going on overseas, the problems with society, Joe’s
demonic incident. Now your mysterious comments, the enormous
blessing I just received from that nice woman with the cross. It’s all part
of a major spiritual event of some kind.”
“Precisely. It’s a major event—several events really. It appears that
the very Trumpet of God has sounded! The time of judgment was first
opened with Christ’s ministry and victory on the cross (John 12:31 NAB).
It now draws hastily towards closure.9 Christians on earth are, as they
always have been, called to participate in the reign of Christ from heaven,
but with greater urgency now. Many having received a glorious
outpouring of the Lord’s spirit—an outpouring that continues.
“Satan, bound at least in part and for a time by Christ’s ministry and
victory on the cross,10 has recently, perhaps just prior to World War I,
been released from the pit. He has begun his final assault on the Church!
We have, by all indications, been living Armageddon for nearly a century,
and, thanks to the deceptive power of the devil, hardly anyone knows it!
“In doing it this way, Satan has succeeded in launching a very
complex stratagem, one that involves a many-layered system of traps and
obstacles. The subtlety of it all has taken society unawares. The daily
headlines now show the result: massive moral decay and endless personal,
family and international tragedy. We are immersed in nothing less than
the great apostasy.
“If the Roman martyrdom was the tribulation, what we have here is at
least a tribulation, an invisible, spiritually based form of persecution. In
any case, modern day persecution of Christians is acutely real, overtly
manifested in many countries around the world in martyrdom,
imprisonment, physical attack, and legal and financial harassment.
“Society’s moral apostasy offers the devil two concurrent tactical
advantages: lack of faith and moral compromise. These circumstances
greatly facilitate his beginning the final assault in force. There is no
question now, the final assault of evil is upon us!”
Clayton is stunned. Always a warrior in spirit, he has instinctively felt
he was being groomed for the last battle. With his retirement had come
the belief that Armageddon would, after all was said and done, pass him
by, occurring outside his lifetime. Now he has to come to grips with the
fact that he has apparently slept through the larger part of it. His next
response comes as a reflex. He is consciously aware of his words only
after he speaks.
“Count me in, Father.”
“Me too.” Joe is dazed as well, and responds on ‘autopilot,’ still deep
in contemplation. Autopilot or not, they are both prepared to do the right
thing if called.
Father takes a moment to consider and pray. He comes to a decision.
“OK, that’s it then . . . you’re on the team!”
Both of them feel a blessing this time. Overjoyed, they have a
thousand questions. Preempting those, Father offers a brief prayer. Noting
that they have made a commitment, Father Bernie chooses not to delve
further into the details until their next meeting. In many ways, the whole
thing is very troubling, though joyous. He doesn’t want to talk them out of
it. He’s had difficulty enough finding anyone in the parish to take this
event seriously. Not ours, he was forced to conclude about some of his
own staff.
Outside, Garfield feels it; they have joined the team! There is an
immediate thud. All look in the same direction. Garfield falls full force
against the café window, smearing it with an enormous grin just above the
frothy root beer mug stenciled in the center. The new inward-facing
advert of a crazed giant sucking up root beer suds is framed by a pair of
muscular arms giving a double thumbs up.
The café patrons breathe a sigh of relief that the glass has held.
Garfield, at seven feet, weighs 425 lbs. He is well known in the café as an
adorable though eccentric personality. Only Father fully understands him.
With a chuckle and raised eyebrow, Father Bernie dismisses further
inquiry into Garfield’s antics with “It must be the espresso.”
Father hastily closes as if all is set and agreed. “Meet me here
Tuesdays at 7:00 P.M., on an ongoing basis. You’ll learn more as we go.
Let’s do a little reading in preparation for our next meeting.”
Despite the fact that both men have formed a list of urgent questions
about the end times, their faces reflect the equivalent of I don’t have a lot
of time for homework.
“Three or four lines of scripture won’t kill you: Matthew chapter
18, verses 19 and 20—that’s all for the present.”
Given the implication of a major spiritual event, if Father says it, it is
good enough for Clayton.
“I’m writing it down.” He turns to lean on Joe with his huge right
forearm. “And so are you.”
Joe smiles sheepishly, pulling out his pen.
“Great!” Father rises. “See you next week. Oh, by the way, the satanic
forces will know you’ve joined God’s team. Expect to be attacked.”
“You’re kidding!” escapes involuntarily from both.
Father, though long adjusted to attacks from the devil, understands
their alarm. Only the truth will do, however, especially when dealing with
Satan. A simple “no” is all they get.
“I hope to see you both in Evansville this weekend for my book
reading at the university. Refreshments are served. The Lord’s peace go
with you.”
Joe and Clayton share a brief moment of dismay. In an instant they
have decided that coffee won’t be enough tonight. Without speaking, they
know exactly where they will go: Kilroy’s Sports Bar on 9th Street. What
they don’t know is what time they will leave. Their commitment to
moderation is firm, but it may take a cold beer to fully remove the chill
from Father’s warning.
Even the best laid plans may go astray, however; they are delayed.
Three steps out of The Beanery they find their arms locked in Garfield’s
much larger ones. Hustled down the walk and into a nearby alley, for
what purpose they dared not think, it occurs to them that Father may have
understated the gravity of their situation.
Recoiling with some fear and fingering the large caliber pistol he
carries as a professional bodyguard, Clayton issues a polite but firm
challenge.
“Have we met?”
“Yes, just now, in the café. I spoke with Father Bernie. Don’t you
remember?”
“Yes, but have we met?”
Clayton emphasizes the ‘we’ more to accuse than to inquire. He opens
his blazer far enough to give Garfield a view of the powerful gun.
Garfield steps back involuntarily.
“No. Not exactly.” Again noting the formidable weapon, Garfield’s
confidence waivers, but faith soon returns him to his mission. “Father put
you on the team, right?”
Garfield’s face oddly changes. He looks exactly like Father Bernie for
a moment, and then returns to normal.
“Did you see that?” Clayton turns, briskly heading off to Kilroy’s in an
exaggeration of Olympic style walking. Peering cautiously back over his
shoulder he notices that Joe, who happened to be looking the other way at
the time, has not fallen in behind him.
Advancing a few yards further, he pivots, instincts and curiosity
recalling him. “What’s all this about, really?”
Garfield responds with his own question. “When is your team
meeting? I’m on your team: Matthew chapter 18, verses 19 and 20?”
“Answer my question first.”
Garfield loses patience. “The Lord’s hand moves over the face of the
earth; that’s what it’s about. God is calling the remnant! He has whistled
for them; didn’t you hear it? The entire planet is embroiled in the last
battle!” Garfield is now speaking fully in the Spirit.
Clayton stares, struck speechless.
Garfield notes that his revelation, delivered in the power of the Holy
Spirit has stunned Clayton; but he did ask for it, after all.
Clayton is far too much a Christian to deny the Holy Spirit.
Nonetheless, he does not yet respond. He remains minimally concerned
with their being in a dark alley with this large, strange person, Father
Bernie’s warning still fresh. Faith enhanced by curiosity finally overrides
the urge to terminate the encounter and hail the nearest police cruiser.
Joe instinctively likes Garfield. He trusts his instincts. Garfield does
know Father Bernie. Daring to hope that Garfield is sane, he confirms.
“Yes, we are meeting. Tuesday evenings, 7:00 P.M. in the café.”
Jim Barnett, a retired school teacher, and another well-known street
personality, happens by, pressing between them to get past on his way to
an abortion protest rally.
“Thanks be to God!” comes back from Jim in angelic voice as he turns
the corner and moves out of vision onto Main.
In the next moment, he has poked his roughly bearded face back
around the corner to pull at his earlobes, still smiling. The warmth of a
holy blessing is unmistakable. Both Joe and Clayton clearly hear “God
bless you guys” telepathically in Jim’s voice, a phrase he has only mimed
without speaking out loud.
Jim reaches down into the stairwell behind the Knights of Columbus
conference hall, pulling out a wearable billboard that says, “Repent,
Christ is coming!” Turning, he reveals the opposite side: “It’s a child, not
a choice!”
Jim’s face now changes. He looks exactly like St. Padre Pio for a
moment. Joe sees it this time. They stare at each other in disbelief as
Garfield grins and nods his head up and down. “Jim’s on the team too.”
The enormous smiling head continues to bounce as Jim rounds the
corner and proceeds down the block. Clayton and Joe just stare after him.
After a moment, “Padre Pio, my patron saint, and I will keep you guys
in our prayers. You’re probably going to need them,” floats back to them
from no visible source whatsoever.
Clayton’s threshold for the abnormal has now been crossed.
“I think that’ll just about do it for ol’ spooky! I’m seeing things, and
haven’t even had a drink. But I’ll guarantee you this, I will be having
one.”
“Make that two.”
Shoving Garfield somewhat rudely aside, they sprint the seven blocks
to Kilroy’s for an early start to a long evening. They slide into one of the
blonde oak booths of the expansive sports bar and try to catch their breath.
The waitress raises her eyebrows by way of confirming the usual
order. Clayton nods in return.
A moment later she is back. Leaving them frosted mugs, fresh baked
giant pretzels, and a pitcher of ice-cold Blue Moon beer with orange
slices, the waitress overhears as she turns to go, “Spooky is right!”
They shake off the unexplained for the moment to turn their attention
to the opening toss of one of the classic NCAA championship games
frequently replayed on Kilroy’s flat screen TV.
The game lived up to its promise. As the last of suds drains from the
pitcher, coach Knight’s Hoosiers are climbing the ladder to claim snips of
the championship net as souvenirs.
Unfortunately, stress relief is minimized by a news alert issuing from
the Middle East.
“We interrupt this program for an important announcement . . . ”
“Let’s get home before the shooting starts,” Clayton suggests.
“Right.”
Clayton settles the check as agreed and they head two blocks north,
Joe’s modest two-story home being three houses down from the
Delaneys’ slightly larger one occupying the corner lot.
CHAPTER 2
The Truth Shall Set You Free
Wednesday, 1:00 A.M.
“Father Bernie speaking.”
Father gently replaces the oriental reading lamp to his antique
nightstand, having overturned it reaching for the phone. The colorful
shade serves to accent the black lacquered mother of pearl furnishings of
his room—treasured mementos of Army years in the Pacific.
“Father, these attacks are no joke.” Joe struggles to calm himself.
“This is real! Something attacked me in my sleep—a creature of some
kind! I thought evil was just an abstraction, you know, a concept, like the
existential theologians of the ’70s used to say—not a real being that can
reach out and strike you.”
“Joe, with all due respect to the existential theologians, their PhDs,
distinguished beards, expensive pipes and profound expressions, they
didn’t have it all right. Demons are real; they can hurt you if you don’t
pray for help.
“St. Padre Pio, for one example, was attacked by demons for six hours
one evening and practically beaten to death.11 St. Anthony, of course, is
noted for his having been heavily attacked for days on end out in his
isolated desert hermitage. Our own St. Meinrad, for whom the archabbey
near Evansville is named, was attacked as well. But God stood with them,
as he will with us.
“The way I see it, all the demons really accomplish in revealing
themselves is to prove the reality of the supernatural, and thereby prove
God’s existence. We may suffer a little for the proof, but it is a small price
to achieve absolute certainty about God.”
“That’s an interesting perspective to take on it, Father, and no small
comfort. But my hands are still shaking.”
“What’s that noise in the background—pinball?”
“Yes, I’m calling from Kilroy’s. Couldn’t sleep. After that demon
attack and all this coffee, I probably won’t—perhaps not ever again.”
“You’ll get over it. So, what happened exactly?”
“I was nearly asleep and this monstrous thing jumped on my back. It
tried to paralyze me with fear, tapping into my spine with a reptilian
tongue! Such an obscene disgusting feeling! I felt like I was being
dissolved, that it was consuming me. It was a spiritual being—horrible—a
reptilian, but yet humanoid. Somehow—I can’t explain it—it was just
there—a totally disgusting, nauseating thing. Spiritual or not, I could feel
its breath and its touch. It . . . licked me? Ugh!”
Joe shivers convulsively.
“The most disgusting thing I have ever experienced. This was no
nightmare. It happened!”
“A demonic attack, no question,”12 Father confirms. “Demons have no
true form. They represent themselves in various animal forms or
monstrous shapes to intimidate people or to give the satanic community
some consistent means of identification. I don’t rule out the possibility
that God may, on occasion, give us some clue to their character profiles
with these representations as well. How did you get it to leave?”
“I could barely speak. The thing paralyzed me. I was so angered and
repulsed that I said, ‘you’re dead.’ It fell back for a moment, and then I
said ‘in Jesus’ name’—which is when it groaned and disappeared.”
“The Holy Name of Jesus,” Father reflects. “Alleluia!”13
“I don’t know why I said those exact words, it just happened—an
instinct, or reflex, I guess. I wasn’t fully awake, being immersed in some
kind of altered state. I had to force the words out through a force field the
thing had placed upon me, restraining my thoughts and speech. I was
partly in a dream, or hypnotized, perhaps. I don’t know what it did; but
this—thing—was real. It was real!”
“You could have done worse. Jesus’ name is what you needed. It takes
prayer to fully remove the demonic presence, and some fasting. The Holy
Name of Jesus constitutes a prayer when spoken with quiet reverence.
Sometimes prayer and fasting for several days is required to fully clear a
demonic presence, possibly much longer. I was planning to discuss
demonic attacks, and what to do about them, on Tuesday. In your case, we
shouldn’t wait. I’ll meet you tonight—this morning, rather,” Father says,
checking the clock with a frown.
“We’ll say a prayer together. That will knock them down for a while.
Do your homework?”
“Not yet.”
“You’re not far from home. Do it now. I’ll meet you at Axton’s all
night diner, the one with Atlas carrying the globe on the roof—it’s in the
neighborhood: Hoosier and 8th. Walk if there’s a question of safe driving.”
*****
Five minutes later, turning to Matthew chapter 18, verses 19-20 in the
Holy Bible, Joe reads: “Again [Amen] I say to you, that if two of you
agree on earth about anything for which they are to pray, it shall be
granted to them by my heavenly Father. For where two or three are
gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”
The door to Axton’s diner flies open. Joe bursts in, scanning for
Father. Demons have caused him a near miss at the intersection. Visibly
shaken, he finally locates Father Bernie’s booth in the rear, sitting in time
for the waitress to place a grand slam special in front of him.
“Sausage all right?” the waitress inquires. “Father Bernie ordered for
you.
“Great, Pam, great.”
Sensing the demon’s presence, Father Bernie doesn’t wait to begin.
“Our Father in heaven . . . ”
“Our Father in heaven . . . ”
“Hallowed be thy name . . . ”
“Hallowed be thy name . . . ”
After the Our Father (the Lord’s Prayer) Father prays The Blessing on
the food. Joe contributes “Amen!”
“It makes you hungry.” “What?”
“Spiritual warfare. Put this book on your spiritual warfare reading list:
C. S. Lewis’ Screwtape Letters. It depicts demons conspiring with each
other concerning how they can best sabotage our lives. Screwtape reveals
the subtle ways demons attack us—interfering in our thoughts. You’ve
discovered some of the not so subtle ones. Demons are real enough, as
you now know—just invisible.”
“You’ll never hear another complaint from me about homework,
Father.”
“Well, in that case, here is some more of it. Read Frank Peretti’s
novel, This Present Darkness. It reveals the reality of the spiritual battle
from the angelic perspective. L. A. Marzulli’s novel, Nephillim,
approaches the same battle from a slightly different point of view, as does
Michael D. O’Brien’s Father Elijah, the primary Catholic entrée in this
genre.14
“Don’t follow their characters’ examples, however; don’t try to
command demons; don’t adjure or exorcise them; that’s a mistake for a
layman. Don’t speak to them; don’t even ‘look’ at them in the spirit.
Ignore them completely and pray for healing of the afflicted person
instead, to include yourself. Prayers of healing are safer and more
effective. Prayer keeps our focus off the total negativity of the demon and
puts it on Christ’s victory where it belongs. Stay positive, turn on the light
of Christian love and faith and the darkness of Satan can’t remain. The
presence of God in our lives and the presence of the devil are mutually
exclusive. We can’t punch out the devil and expect that to end the matter.
He just gets up and comes back harder. If, however, we ask our Father in
heaven, his son Jesus, and the Holy Spirit to help us, they come into our
lives and the light of divine love comes on, and the darkness goes away—
problem solved.
“Cardinal Suenens, in his small book, Renewal & the Powers of
Darkness, reminds us that the Our Father, the Lord’s Prayer, is the
consummate prayer of deliverance. It works every time when offered with
love and faith. Love is the key here. That’s where the power comes from;
the Spirit of God is love. We must simply trust our God to love and
defend us.
“The truths of the Spirit are emotional-spiritual truths, not merely
intellectual ideas. They are truths that we must live, not merely
contemplate, though we can certainly benefit from contemplating them.
“Prayers of healing offered from love with compassion for the
afflicted person will absolutely deliver those you pray for, releasing them
from demonic oppression. This assumes they will themselves affirm
Christ, at least in their heart, if not their head. Ultimately, they will have
to practice their own faith, of course, or the problem may return.
“Christ won this battle against evil; we don’t have to do it all over
again ourselves, our personal cross notwithstanding. But he won it for
those who will affirm him and his gift on the cross offered for our
salvation and deliverance. Satan’s dominance over the earth ended with
Christ’s victory on the cross, but we have to affirm his victory in order to
participate in it and benefit from it.”15
After another series of prayers and a few moments of contemplative
fraternal eating Father Bernie breaks the silence.
“Let’s get out of here, Joe, before it’s time to go to work.”
“Right.”
Father Bernie offers a prayer of thanks for the food, and they step
outside into the crisp early morning air. Father pauses at the curb to light
his pipe.
“I’ll give you a hint about reconciling with Christ. As a young man,
when I accepted Jesus and repented my sins, the thing I was most sorry
about was not helping the poor. This may seem surprising to you because
you know I have always been nearly poor myself. Still, I could have done
something. It doesn’t take that much. A very few dollars goes a long way
in third world countries. Twenty-four thousand people die from starvation
each day! Twenty-four thousand a day! By my not arranging a small
regular donation, sponsoring a child, for example, someone . . . died! A
young child died for no other reason than that I would not take a few
moments to research what I could actually do to help within my own
admittedly meager means.
“When I repented this, Joe, I didn’t just say I was sorry, I was sorry—
to the point of being ill—tears weren’t all of it. Sin is not a technical
matter; our guilt is real. We need forgiveness. Fortunately, God is good
and he forgives us.”
“Thanks be to God!”
“You see how important it is that we take all possible steps forward in
our faith—people need our help. There aren’t that many of us. Demons
attack even children, and the results can be tragic. Pray for guidance. Pray
for help in fully reconciling to God—as soon as possible. The assistance
will come.
“Of all possible prayers, that one is always answered. An honest
prayer for reconciliation with God brings reconciliation. The last battle
with Satan’s forces of evil is heating up for a final confrontation. ‘All
hands on deck,’ as they say. Everyone’s role in support of the Church is
important.
“As Pope Francis affirmed, even the prayer ministries of the
homebound or hospital bound elderly are extremely important. They yield
powerful benefits for the Church and the community. We’re depending on
you to take up your duty position for this last battle with evil, Joe.
Everybody’s got one. Pray about it.”
“I’ll work on it, Father. Goodnight—and,” Joe pauses, failing to find
the right words, “thanks.”
It was a nice try; but thanks won’t be enough. Father gets a hug, tears
forming.
“See you, Father.”
“Goodnight Joe. May God bless and keep you.”
Father hurries off to the yellow ‘bug.’
***
Clayton, it seems, was not on the devil’s good list either; he was
constantly harassed. For both Joe and Clayton the week passed tortuously,
each night becoming a gauntlet of demonic assaults in lieu of sleep. The
devil was trying to turn them back from their new commitment to the
Church. Even Father Bernie was not spared. Somehow, they got through
it.
Thursday, driving to work, Clayton spotted Garfield at the gas station
on his motorbike, dressed in leathers, doing a passable impersonation of
Elvis. Despite getting off on the wrong foot, he has come to like Garfield.
Having since been educated by Father, he decided there was more to
Garfield than just a 425-pound, attention-seeking drama major who had
partied too much in college. Certainly, this event was important enough to
warrant giving Garfield another chance.
He wasn’t wrong. Garfield was in fact a gentle giant with undeniably
redeeming qualities. His merciless sense of humor was legendary in West
Lafayette. Children adored him. Inevitably they would ask their parents if
Garfield could come over to play. This phenomenon was explicable in
part perhaps by the fact that Garfield made absolutely no distinction
amongst persons, regardless of age or social strata. He treated everyone
exactly the same—with the utmost dignity. Children have a sixth sense
about such things. They repaid Garfield’s respect for them with authentic
friendship.
While taking great care to maintain a charitable Christian attitude
towards all, Garfield did permit himself one small rudeness as a luxury.
When passing a suspected Satanist on the street he often took the liberty
of simultaneously praying for their deliverance (or defeat if they refused
deliverance) while ribbing them with a knowing “Beetle Juice, Beetle
Juice.” Having a charism for especially powerful prayers of deliverance,
Garfield relished the startled reactions and involuntary smiles as their
demonic burden was suddenly lightened.
Satanists are typically convinced that their secret practice of sorcery is
just that, secret. Garfield makes sure to burst that bubble, giving them
both pause and fair warning. The devil, of course, has solemnly promised
them that their activities would remain forever secret, himself not having
read or perhaps not fully believed the Holy Bible at Matthew 10:26. What
Garfield knows, that Satanists who avoid the Bible do not, is that the devil
was a liar from the beginning. Why anyone would trust the world’s
biggest liar, a purely evil entity with a supernatural ability to deceive was
beyond Garfield’s ability to comprehend.
Regardless of any human weakness that Garfield’s antics may evince,
they do serve as a genuine act of prophecy, a stern, albeit kindly, warning
to the Satanists. This is a warning they urgently need, considering that an
encounter with the righteous anger of the one, true, and almighty God
looms ominously in their future. We never know the moment we might be
called from this earth in an unexpected death. Who would want to look up
at God standing there in that moment of judgment with innocent blood
and demonic slime on their hands, and a satanic pentagram scribbled at
their feet?
Not him, and, in any event, Garfield refuses to participate in the
satanic lie. With mankind immersed in full-scale spiritual war with the
devil, and our very children at risk, he will not pretend that everything is
OK. Doing this could lull both the innocent and the guilty into a false
sense of security.
Late Friday night, after updating the end times journal at the rectory,
Garfield pauses in his nightly prayer to rethink and validate his approach.
The Lord’s response is clear, though not audible: No, the evil ones are not
going to have it all their own way. Acknowledge the truth in the open light
of day. In so doing, one of the devil’s two big guns, deception, will be
neutralized. The other gun, temptation, leave in the capable hands of
Father Bernie.
***
Joe, too, fought the good fight in his own way. The devil’s interference
had increased to the point that a demon was palpably looking over his
shoulder in the men’s room. These repugnant intrusions were successfully
met with fervent renditions of the Lord’s Prayer. It wasn’t long before Joe
began adding a few Hail Mary’s, Glory Be’s, and the Apostles’ Creed. He
was soon praying all day long.
With further instruction from Father Bernie, this routine quickly
congealed into a full Rosary. That’s when good things started to happen.
The severe headaches, back pain, fatigue, memory blocks, negative
emotions, digestive ailments, financial burdens and a host of other
demonically generated afflictions were rapidly cleared away once the
Rosaries started in force.
Clayton’s approach was similarly centered in prayer, though his first
move was to ignore the demonic attacks entirely. He felt the devil did not
merit his attention. Clayton understood that the devil was vying to distract
him from accomplishing the Lord’s agenda in his daily life, to prevent his
bringing good things into the lives of his family and community.
He regularly prayed for protection, but, as often as not, the demons
just fell off him. Clayton loved his God, he loved his wife, he loved his
kids, and he was literally strong as an ox. More importantly, there was
nothing negative in Clayton’s life. Minus the negative, the demons could
not get a handhold. The demons did not like Clayton.
The feeling was mutual. Clayton kept the prayer to St. Michael the
Archangel ready at all times, and used it liberally. Still he did not confront
the demons directly. He held his focus on the divine joy of friendship with
God Almighty. He exulted in this friendship, and the privilege of offering
a prayer to the captain of God’s heavenly host, St. Michael the Archangel.
Clayton’s faith soared. He best understood that victory does not accrue
in the absence of combat. He passed those days in a state of elation. It’s
finally happening! Now we can finish this battle and move past the
tragedy of this world and on to the joyous eternal life God meant us to
have before the fall. It’s happening!
When he wasn’t shaking his head in euphoric ‘disbelief,’ he was
burying it in biblical research. God the Father had always favored
Clayton, since he was the smallest child. As a result, the Holy Spirit
guided Clayton’s reading plan closely. Newly discovered gems of the
faith merely produced more head shaking. And so it went on.
Finally, having to share his discoveries with someone, he brought over
a copy of Bible software to install on Joe’s computer. He is immediately
ushered in past a maze of toys scattered over the powder blue and white
carpet in the living room and on to the upstairs den. Children are
everywhere.
“Neighborhood sleepover last night. Jon’s birthday,” Joe informs,
rubbing his eyes.
“Sleepovers! Yeah, I remember those days. Sleepovers are great.”
“Right.” Joe notes yet again just how far Clayton’s physical stamina
exceeds that of merely mortal men. He can see that Clayton is distracted,
driven by something. “What’s on your mind?”
“Joe, you know it’s amazing what you can learn from the Bible if you
simply pick it up and read it. For example, the footnotes to the New
American Bible seem to be saying that the abomination and the beast are
past historical events. I sure hope they’re right. What do you think?”
“I would be surprised if there is not more to it than that, though I don’t
question the biblical commentator’s pointing to the times of the Roman
martyrdoms as a uniquely pernicious period of persecution against
Christians. Those glorious martyrdoms are unrivaled in human history. I
would not expect the travail of those times or the faith of those early
martyrs, among which were Saints Peter and Paul, to ever be surpassed.
Certainly the crux of the initial battle to found the Church occurred there.
I tend to include the Maccabees in that honored group as well, though
their afflictions occurred earlier, before Christ.
“I don’t mean to diminish the sacrifice of modern heroes: the world
wars, the Cold War, and more recent conflagrations and persecutions. But
the glorious miracles performed and the involvement of the original
apostles and founding fathers of the Church confirm the central place of
the Roman martyrdoms in Christian history.
“Father Bernie says the themes of the Bible tend to repeat. Take the
demonic attacks we have been experiencing, for example. Beast,
Antichrist, abomination, Satan, Abaddon, Beelzebub…to me much of the
terminology is strictly academic. As often as we are being attacked, I
don’t think it much matters what you call it—it’s a significant event.”
“Spoken like a true PhD. Scott Hahn, eat your heart out.”
The upstairs phone rings: Father Bernie. He wants to discussing his
book reading on Saturday at the University of Evansville, and invites
them to Sunday service (Mass).
Using his cell phone on the balcony, Joe observes Garfield passing on
the sidewalk below, curly black hair disheveled, enthusiastically pushing
the thumbs up sign in his direction. Mimicking one of Father Bernie’s
dramatic outbursts, he uses stiff and erratic body movements to
impersonate Kramer from Seinfeld. The guy is funny.
Father continues: “Give Sunday Mass some thought, Joe—Catholics
are Christian too you know. And, don’t forget: I’ll see you Tuesday for
coffee.”
“Coffee—right. I’m looking forward to it.”
Joe places the phone in the receiver with the merest hint of a shove.
Leaning on it he stares out the window into space. What has Father
Bernie gotten us into? Just when retirement was going along so well.
Later that evening Joe broke through. He accepted Christ fully. At
first, not knowing quite how to do it, he had to ask God for help—several
times. Our Father answered. Joe saw the destructive nature of his sins.
People suffered when he chose not to share, when he avoided standing up
for social justice out of fear of the consequences, when he neglected
prayer and church, when he fell to temptation. His sins had offended God
and injured the purity of the Church community. He had been hiding from
himself an attachment to several sins that, in effect, constituted rebellion
against God. Some sins even constitute a form of idolatry, where worldly
things are placed at the top of one’s value system in the place where God
alone should reside. And there is the personal friendship aspect one
should never neglect. He should have spent more time with God, his
Father, more time with Christ, his savior, in prayer. There was no denying
any of it. He felt terrible. He cried. Then came the joy of forgiveness. He
was home. God had forgiven him. Now he could make a fresh start and try
again.
CHAPTER 3
God is Real
1:00 P.M. Saturday
Joe was excited about Father’s reading. An ardent
student of
philosophy in college; he is still in love with it. He hopes to begin work
on a graduate degree when he has saved enough. Father had waited to
give him the book until the advance copies went out to the colloquium
members. He only had a week to study it, but it looked like dynamite at
first reading.
They had a pleasant drive down to Evansville, taking the long way
along the Ohio River from New Albany for some hasty bird watching.
Colorful warblers were just arriving for the spring migration.
“Is that a Yellowthroat, Clayton?”
“It is. And there is a Chat just right of him, and a Kentucky Warbler is
singing up the hill there in the pines.”
“Wow! Life has returned. Did you ever notice, Clayton, how the
scents and hues seem somehow amplified by the early morning. A little of
God’s magic in creation seems to have been retained in the first light of
day, the fresh air of morning, and the sparkles of dew on the foliage. It is
the best time of the day.”
“Agreed.”
Joe talked Clayton into stopping at one of the better coffee shops along
the way so they could snag a couple egg sandwiches and go in alert and in
the proper mood. Joe loves the heady intellectual stuff . . . the search for
the truth . . . pressing the frontiers of knowledge . . . the foreign coffee . . .
the donuts . . . especially the donuts.
As they entered the lecture hall, they spotted Father Bernie near the
refreshments table along the right-hand wall. He was speaking with a few
other academic types. Father’s green tweed Andre Villard jacket with
sculpted “Fox Mulder” tie very nearly disguised his twenty years of Army
service, but not quite. His brusque approach to society’s moral problems
tended to quickly distinguish him from his strictly collegiate associates in
discussion.
They just had time to grab some fresh donuts and refill their cups
before the Humanities chairperson introduced the speaker. “We think you
will enjoy Father Bernie’s challenging approach to today’s topic. Father
will be reading from chapter 3 of his new book God & Science. Father
Bernie…”
Father Bernie shakes Chairperson Gervais’ hand and assumes the
podium with a spectacular smile, pausing a brief moment to relish the
pleasure of sharing his love of philosophy and theology; he then begins:
“In this chapter on the age-old dilemma and historical debate
about “proving” God’s existence, I have decided to try
something radically different. I’m going to tell the truth.
Now, let’s get to it. In many ways, the problem of proving
God’s existence is a false dilemma. Historically, we have
tried much too hard at it. We should go about it exactly as we
do proving the existence of our Uncle Bob, or anyone else:
we should go look for him, and see if he’s there . . . but we
must look as much with our hearts as our eyes and
heads. As the great American philosopher Charles
Pierce reminded us, a valid epistemology must admit
other means of direct human cognition beyond the five
senses. Not everything we know can be verified with a
microscope or a telescope. Our sense of artistic beauty
in painting and music; our love of philosophy and
literature; our sense of right and wrong, good and evil;
our love of family, friends and country; our awareness
of God in our hearts: these are no less truths of human
existence for lack of scientific verification. They are the
most important truths we have.”
After the paper, Joe and Clayton go forward to congratulate Father
Bernie on a job well done. They stayed around another forty-five minutes
for the spirited informal discussion that followed. Some of the scientists
were not happy with Father Bernie’s cursory treatment of entropy and
thermodynamic law, and one of the protestant theologians balked at the
concept of directed evolution as a method of creation. The philosophers,
on the other hand, didn’t find any logical flaws of substance, and all
seemed to enjoy the presentation. Father Bernie always takes care to add a
touch of humor every few pages. The day was considered a success.
Chairperson Gervais invited them to come back next month for her
presentation on Ayer, Carnap & Wittgenstein, which they enthusiastically
accepted, knowing her reputation for precise and rigorous analysis—
another day to look forward to.
The trip home was equally pleasant, with a few moments to view the
winding riverfront with binoculars. They spotted an unusual raptor
dipping and reeling over the river, a truly gorgeous specimen of God’s art,
which they would have to research for their birding lists. Adding this to a
perfect red-shouldered hawk at point blank range, plus two rough legs, a
Crider’s red tail, a bald eagle and an osprey diving on the river, made it a
good trip. As they approached the gravel parking enclave at the last trail a
Merlin flew in and landed just above and in front of them to have its
breakfast on a bear tree limb.
“Amazing!” Joe whispered as he snapped off a dozen photos with his
digital camera.
“We must be living right, Clayton.”
Clayton remarked that while that appeared true, they weren’t
necessarily living cheap. It would be an expensive outing, considering that
they had to bribe their wives with a trip to the fashion outlets at Edinburgh
to get the day to themselves.
Joe delivered the anticipated “nolo contendere” with genuine emotion.
***
7:30 A.M. Sunday
Rounding Lincoln onto 17th en route to church, Joe noticed someone
sitting on a bench waiting for a CityBus, newspaper in hand.
“Elvis! Right there, waiting for a bus!”
“I saw it.” Clayton leans out the window to take a second look.
‘Elvis’ stands up and shouts “Hail Gluteus!”
It was actually Garfield doing an Elvis impersonation.
“Hail Maximus!” Clayton responds in an equally Roman accent,
reversing his large frame and extending it further out the window.
Garfield has begun training with Clayton at the gym. He stands to
further improve an already imposing physique, considering Clayton is one
of the best power lifters in the region.
Joe and Clayton feel an odd weight descend upon them as they
approach St. Mary’s—now understood by both to be a spiritual attack.
Stiffness of the neck, aching back, pressure at the primary nerve centers,
the solar plexus and the base of the spine, the memory blocks again.
“I don’t think Satan appreciates us,” Joe offers, rubbing the back of his
head.
“Huh-uh. Our Father in heaven . . . ”
The attack is soon resolved.
The cathedral was its awesome self. The morning sun sparkled through
the windows’ stained glass biblical scenes creating an indescribable
luminescent beauty. They marked several new additions bequeathed by a
devout parishioner recently passed away: rough-hewn woodcarvings of
the busts of the apostles, a beautifully carved life-sized depiction of the
household of Joseph the Carpenter, and four towering ceramic figures of
the archangels. Their burden lessened as they passed by the Madonna and
Child at the entrance, most tenderly portrayed.
They nodded acknowledgment to Pam and her fiancée Hugh, who
were sitting in the back row, finding two of the remaining seats up front.
Unexpected, Garfield, only a few moments behind, slid in beside
them.
Team membership notwithstanding, they were not prepared for this
particular Mass. Father Bernie surpassed his own inspired self, bringing
the congregation to tears—and more than once. In keeping with the Easter
season, he (a complete surprise to the two visiting Protestants) brought
forth a large cross with Christ figure, as big as he could hold, solemnly
inviting the congregation to come forward and “venerate the cross.”
As Joe and Clayton were soon to discover, this meant showing some
gesture of respect such as kneeling at the foot of the cross, or kissing the
hands or feet of Christ, and they simply were not prepared. Choosing a
kiss—Jesus granted them a brief visitation. Stunned and overwhelmed,
they broke into quiet respectful tears. Neither spoke.
They were seated for lunch at the Beanery before Joe, still very much
in awe, ventured to break the silence.
“That did not happen.”
“It happened,” Clayton affirms, shaking his head backward and
forward, then sideways. “It happened.”
“We have to pray.”
“What shall we pray for?”
“Everyone’s protection. This tribulation-last battle with evil thing is
going to take an awful toll on people if they don’t affirm their faith. We’ll
pray that the nations return to devotion to Christ and his Blessed Mother
in the Rosary. Fervent prayer is the only thing that can save us now. An
incomprehensible disaster looms over the world. I know it.”
“Start the prayer, I’ll follow.”
“Our Father in heaven . . . ”
Caught up in a beatific trance, Joe absently notes a splash of tears on
the floor with no awareness that they are his own.
“Father’s right, something big is brewing. We’re going to have to stay
alert to the will of God,” Clayton warns.
“Not to worry on my behalf. As of this moment, God has my full
attention.”
“Right. Joe, in the visitation back there, at the cross…Christ called me
to the Catholic Church! Margaret’s family is Catholic. I’m going to look
at making the move: Rome Sweet Home, as Scott Hahn says.”
Joe laughs. “I already expressed my intent to join the Church to Father
Bernie. Instruction begins in the fall, first week of September. I’ll call the
religious education office. Perhaps we can get on the mail list.”
“First thing in the morning.”
Joe had the molé chicken, golden brown drumsticks in a mild
chocolate sauce. Clayton, constantly hungry from the spiritual struggle
and heavy weight training, had two full pastrami sandwiches. Both elected
double cappuccinos to celebrate and to replenish their strength against the
demonic beatings they have endured. Who cares, Joe reflects—it feels
good to stand up and do the right thing.
“It makes you hungry; I told you,” comes from behind.
Father Bernie pulls up a chair, smiling. “Pastrami on sourdough with
hot mustard, Italian milkshake,” adding to the waiter over his shoulder,
“extra cinnamon!”
“Make that two.” Pam sits down.
A familiar shadow passes. Garfield pulls out a chair, stepping over it.
Shaking his leg and tossing his hair back, he calls to the waiter:
“Three—thank you very much, I love you!”
Spotting his favorite waitress, Garfield switches to the Elvis spin-off
cartoon character, Johnny Bravo, and flexes a newly toned bicep in her
direction, along with his best smile.
Joe, lost in his own thoughts, remains in awe from the visitation at
Mass. The enormity of events is sinking in. A twinge comes from the
lump in his throat. Embarrassed by another sudden formation of tears, he
next realizes that he has unintentionally spoken his thoughts.
“God is holy, Julia.”
—End Part I
*
Dogmatic Disclaimer: This book is not an official publication of the Catholic Church. It
does not presume to authoritatively teach Church dogma. I intend for it to conform to
Catholic dogma fully, however, and have done my best to maintain fidelity. Any statement
or implication that appears to contradict the authoritative teaching of the Church should be
disregarded in favor of the Church’s teaching. I will immediately correct any such errors
brought to my attention.
PART II
Kingdom Shall Rise Against Kingdom
Obadiah: 17-18 NAB
But on Mount Zion there shall be a portion saved; the
mountain shall be holy, And the house of Jacob shall take
possession of those that dispossessed them. The house of
Jacob shall be a fire, and the house of Joseph a flame; The
house of Esau shall be stubble, and they shall set them ablaze
and devour them; Then none shall survive of the house of
Esau, for the LORD has spoken.
CHAPTER 4
“Guinea Pigs”
(Six months later) Tuesday 7:25 P.M.
The men are forced to jog in to the Beanery through the storm, after
hastily securing Father Bernie’s Volkswagen in the metered parking lot
across the street. They bustle through the waiting crowd to the coat rack,
shaking rain off as they come. For some reason Tuesday evenings have
become inordinately popular.
Pam rises to greet them. “Where have you been? We’ve had to start
without you to hold a table.”
“Top . . . ” Joe turns to look at Father Bernie for help against a sudden
demonic push into his thoughts, but Father has begun to say the same
thing, himself.
“Secret,” Father Bernie finishes against his own will, silently cursing
the demons for their confounded intrusions. Satan may have pulled a word
out, but that’s as much as he going to get.
The disdainful rotation of Clayton’s head tells them they should go no
further.
As a matter of fact they have just come from a meeting classified Top
Secret within the Department of Defense. Against Clayton’s better
judgment the three of them volunteered to be guinea pigs in a new
research program. It concerns genetic engineering of human beings, and
pays a handsome monthly stipend of $14,000 each. Clayton’s athletically
honed instincts balked at the idea of experimenting with his own body. He
was only finally persuaded by Joe’s “Father has prayed about it.”
A handful of other retirees attended the classified briefing. It was not a
surprise to see another retired Army chaplain, Father (Lieutenant Colonel)
Herman there, a long-time friend of Father Bernie, a prolific writer,
theologian, and tireless advocate for the poor. Where there was a dollar to
raise for charity, Father Herman would find it. Still, for a military event
there seemed to be an exorbitant number of Christians in attendance—
rosaries and crosses abounding in the medical lab as the “tough guys”
waited for their shots.
“You don’t suppose they’re afraid of getting a shot?” Father Bernie
ribbed his colleagues, many having combat experience, intentionally
allowing himself to be overheard.
“I would guess not,” Father Herman replied in response to the
(affectionately) grim stares returned by the veterans.
Father Herman has not revealed all he knows about the recent
mysterious events. Last spring he was blessed with a private revelation
concerning some kind of a Christian initiative in the military. He is still
trying to discern the full meaning of it. Unsolicited winks and nods
combined with the overwhelming display of religious symbols tell Father
Herman he did not hallucinate the experience. It is a little troubling to
know something big is brewing without knowing precisely what it is, but
he will be patient with God as God has been patient with him and his U.S.
Army flock over the years.
The research participants were flown to a classified meeting in the
Pentagon some months earlier. There sworn to secrecy, they received an
initial program briefing, followed by more extensive private interviews at
a local military base. The terms of participation included a $500,000 life
insurance policy, provided for the unlikely event that this DOD program
would be the first ever to encounter unexpected results.
The nearest clinical research center to West Lafayette, Indiana is in
Chicago. Paper signing, six months advance payment, and the initial
injections occurred there at the secret Chicago clinic tonight. The
procedure took longer than anticipated. However, they are officially in the
program—and they each have $75,000 cash in their pockets.
They can see Father Herman waving the money over his head in the
parking lot. “You know what this is?” he had prompted the trio. “This is
satellite TV for the orphans’ home; food for Mother Teresa’s poor in
Calcutta; new stations of the cross at St. Charles; this is a good day for the
homeless and the poor I meet on the street—that’s what this is!”
Father Herman literally danced to his car, a broken down black
Thunderbird with dents on both sides and part of a fender missing up
front. They wonder if it will occur to him to spend some of the money on
himself. With a clenched fist raised theatrically out the window, still
clutching the bag of life-saving cash, the T-bird charged off to battle in
the war on poverty, but only after a somewhat less heroic, “See you
Saturday for brownies.”
Father Bernie has invited everyone to view the upcoming eclipse of
the moon through his telescope at the rectory Saturday evening; the
presence of his famous brownies and ice cream has been assumed.
Refocusing on the present, Father deposits his old bomber jacket on
the wall hook provided and exhaustedly sits down with Joe and Clayton to
join the team, now grown to eleven members.
“I apologize for our being late. It couldn’t be helped. The traffic.
Where are we?”
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to announce we have been
accepted as an official chapter of Opus Dei, effective first of the month!”
Garfield sits back amid the excited chatter and applause, most satisfied
with himself. He saved this announcement especially so Father Bernie
could enjoy it. No one expected official recognition so soon.
“Outstanding! Opus Dei!” Father Bernie jams his fist on the table,
inadvertently striking with too much force. His vision blurs and he wavers
uncertainly in his chair. Grasping the table, he watches coffee splash from
his neighbor’s cup seemingly in slow motion. Coming to himself, he
apologizes.
“Please forgive my clumsy enthusiasm. My dexterity has actually
increased with age. As a young priest I would undoubtedly have upset the
entire table.” Father rubs his forehead and struggles to regain focus and
clarity. That shot.
Oblivious to Father’s difficulty, Garfield continues. He nods to the
lady on his left. “Pam.”
“Fundraising starts immediately.” She emphasizes the word while
holding out her hand.
His mind elsewhere, and distracted by an odd sensation of warmth
spreading from the inoculation site, Father reaches for his now
burgeoning wallet, extracting two thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills,
casually tossing it across towards Pam, his vision blurring her into an
indistinct red ball with a cream center. This amazes all except his coconspirators. They do approximately the same. It has not occurred to them
that the others will notice the amounts do not fit their known family
income-expense profiles.
Pam takes the bills and begins to fill out receipts from an office supply
pad, then notes the amounts. She sits back, staring. “Are you guys sure
you want to do this, there is more than six thousand dollars here?”
“We’re sure,” Clayton responds. “If Mel Gibson can risk $20 million
of his personal money on a controversial film project of Christ’s
crucifixion, we can kick in a few hundred to warn the planet about the
devil’s final assault on the Church.”16
“That makes sense,” Pam is forced to concede. “A stitch in time saves
nine?”
“Something like that,” Clayton allows. “If Paul Revere’s horse had
died from overexertion, I think we would all call it a good investment.
Horses were not cheap back then. Of course one should not be cruel to
animals as such. Pressing the horses limits in a life and death emergency
such as the pending assault by the British to kick-off the American
Revolutionary War would be an understandable tradeoff, though the loss
of such compassionate and beautiful creatures is always a tragedy.”
This thought prompts the other members to dig out a few more dollars.
Noting their second error in revealing increased income may have
been camouflaged by Clayton’s allusion to Mel’s Passion, Father hastily
changes the subject in an attempt to camouflage the first error, letting slip
the phrase “Top Secret.”
“Garfield, did you find out about all of the top secret strategies Opus
Dei is into, chasing down the Antichrist and all that great stuff?”
Father congratulates himself on successfully contriving a pretext for
use of the phrase “Top Secret” in a civilian context. He knows Opus Dei
does nothing of the kind, but it is a popular misconception and he is sure
Garfield will immediately correct it. Establishing the habitual use of “Top
Secret” in nonliteral contexts should satisfactorily protect the Defense
Department research from further inquiry.
“No Father, the regional office said they don’t do anything of the
kind,” Garfield replies. “No conspiracies at all, darn it. Opus Dei and the
associated JoseMaria Institute are simply trying to bring people to a closer
friendship with God in their daily lives . . . which, of course, is all very
right and good.”
“Jolly-good. Just so.” Father Bernie scratches that concern off his list.
During break Father Bernie tugs at Garfield’s sleeve, pulling him aside
to whisper in his ear.
“What about our journal project?”
“Clear to proceed. The regional secretary at Opus Dei said that,
although our end times journal does not fall under the auspices of their
group, it should do no harm if we keep it within the bounds of common
sense and the teachings of the Church. He did request we info the Vatican
with a copy of the journal as soon as discernment validates the
revelations. He is not sure what they will do with it, but said it should
float around the administrative maze of offices until someone finds it a
proper home. He said to address an info copy to the Pope’s secretary to
ensure it doesn’t get lost completely. The present pope happens to have an
interest in prophecy, among other more mainstream subjects.”
“Right.” Father pats Garfield’s powerful shoulder. “You’ve done well,
Garfield.”
“Oh, Father, there is one more thing. The secretary is not the only one
I spoke with. There was a Russian Orthodox Bishop there, acting as an
interfaith liaison. He invited himself into the discussion, as is, of course,
the episcopal prerogative. Bishop Spiridonov is his name. He has been
gifted with private revelations too. His revelations, however, came from
the Russian primate who had recently been looking over the pope’s
shoulder. The Patriarch happened to be present when the pope was
preparing an in pectore list of new bishops. It is to be kept secret. He
doesn’t know the details of when and where, but your name is on that list!
“Whatever is in pectore, Father?”
“The bishop must have made a mistake. In pectore appointment is
appointment in secret, under cover as it were. This is normally only done
for Cardinals, and then rarely. Appointment to the episcopate would be
the biggest joy of my life—I couldn’t dare hope for it…
“Garfield, I know you are a savant, but you never cease to amaze
me—or to amuse me.”
“That’s very kind.”
They both grin at the other’s friendly jibe. It’s a standoff. No points
scored in this round.
“In pectore . . . I guess I’ll just have to wait and see. I don’t know that
name, Spiridonov.”
“He said you would not know his name; his appointment is in pectore.
I was instructed not to speak of this beyond informing you of the
impending appointment. You are advised not to speak of it as well.”
“Very well, the subject is closed.”
Father stoutens his posture and lowers his voice to a solid bass,
throwing out one of his famous dramatic caricatures: “As they say in the
movies, ‘this conversation never took place.’ ”
Garfield smiles hugely at Father’s perfect James Earl Jones NSA Chief
impersonation.17 Cloak and dagger, secret appointments, end of the world
prophecy. . . how much better can this get?
Upon reassembly, Father clears his throat to address the group.
“Here’s some great news. Recent research into the Shroud of Turin,
long thought to be Jesus’ burial cloth, a cloth mysteriously imbued with
the form of a wounded man wearing a crown of thorns, shows the earlier
carbon dating tests to be incorrect. New information shifts the overall
weight of the evidence in favor of the shroud being Christ’s burial cloth.
That story is printed in today’s Mirror, a British newspaper available on
the Web.
“You may have heard that BASE Institute found what appears to be
Noah’s Ark near the top of a mountain in Iran. In addition to the escape it
provided for Noah’s family, the Ark symbolically represents spiritual
safety within the doors of the Church. The Church is our Ark in these last
days. This is not so loose an analogy as one might think. The spiritual
Church is truly in transit, in motion on her journey to her heavenly home.
That journey occurs amidst an invisible torrent of evil persecution and
obstruction from the devil’s forces.
“With the recent outbreak of both Christian prophecy and demonic
attack God is undoubtedly alerting us to get onboard our Ark, the Church,
to fall back into the safety of the Church for our protection. It is time to
‘call the chickens home’ as Johnny Cash says in his prophetic album,
When the Man Comes Around.
“Did you know that Johnny Cash had written a novel about St. Paul?
Imagine that. It is called Man in White. Reverend Billy Graham said it is
the best book on St. Paul he had seen. Unbeknownst to many, Cash
attended seminary in his later years and received a theology degree.
Taylor Caldwell, of course, wrote an earlier account of St. Paul in her
novel, Great Lion of God, a very compelling read.
Father pulls out a handful of flyers and passes them around. They
include the Mirror story and BASE Institute’s Web address.18
“Here’s an important update, this one on prophecy. Things are
beginning to happen in the heavens it seems.”
Clayton glances at his copy and reads aloud for the group:
Moon to Turn Blood Red
7 Nov 2022
This Saturday the world will be able to watch the moon change from
its normal gleaming white to an eerie blood red. Sky watchers from
four continents will be able to watch the celestial event as a full moon
passes through the earth’s shadow changing it into a red sphere in the
firmament.…This blushing of the moon will be followed by the
Leonid meteor shower and a total solar eclipse will be visible in the
Southern Hemisphere…19
Clayton stops reading abruptly. “Where did I just read that?”
Father recites perfectly from memory: “In Revelation, chapter six:
‘…the sun turned as black as dark sackcloth and the whole moon became
like blood. The stars in the sky fell to the earth like unripe figs shaken
loose from the tree in a strong wind.”20
“The one thing I thought I’d never see in my lifetime,” comes from
Joe as if he is in a dream. He shakes his head, as much to clear the side
effects of the experimental shot as to reflect awe of the prophetic
announcement. “But, you know, I always envisioned some enormous
cosmic catastrophe as the fulfillment of that passage, not just eclipses and
meteor showers.”
“That’s a common view, and probably the most intuitive reading,”
Father agrees. “This passage, however, can also be read as describing not
the very final moments of total destruction, but the preliminary signs of
the end such as we may now be witnessing.
“Considering the numerous biblical precedents, one should not be
dismissive of common astronomical events. Remember, the hour of
Christ’s crucifixion, the greatest event in all of history, was itself marked
by a mere eclipse of the Sun.”
“What happens next, Father?” Pam wonders aloud, the tension clear in
her voice.
“We can safely say that the harvest of souls is well under way, as is
the apostasy, and the tribulation, but most gloriously of all, the thousand
year reign of Christ. This will probably sound strange to some of our
Protestant members, but Christ’s reign, and our participation in it, has
been underway since Jesus’ ascent into heaven.”
“Thanks be to God,” spontaneously erupts from several members of
the group.
“The dynamics of Our Lord’s harvest of souls is facilitated by the
present intensified opposition of spiritual forces. On the one hand there is
Satan’s massive and sophisticated final assault upon the Church and all
things good, and on the other God’s greater blessings being concomitantly
poured out upon the faithful.
“The adversarial dynamic forces a separation of the wheat from the
chaff. People now have to choose between good and evil. The middle
ground of agnosticism or even simple indecision will be virtually
impossible to hold to in so embattled an environment. People are going to
have to choose. Satan will likely overrun anyone without the full armor of
God conferred by an active faith. That doesn’t mean everyone will make
the right choice, however, though they can always change it.
“At a glance, the orchard does not look healthy. A lot of folks appear
to be wavering precariously on the verge of a full demonic takeover even
now. The Church continues to reach out to them, but, as the old saying
goes, ‘You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.’ An
awful lot of heavy wavering is going on, indecision. There aren’t that
many of us consistently holding the straight path.”
Father Bernie is careful not to monopolize the floor during the
meetings.
“Enough doom and gloom; God is much bigger than the devil after all.
He’ll know what to do. Let’s hear from the other team members before it
gets too late. Who wants to start?”
“I have something,” comes from an attractive young woman at the end
of the table. “It concerns the fulfillment of Revelation at chapters 16-18:
the seas dying and turning to ‘blood.’ NASA has essentially confirmed
that such things are already happening in a big way in our oceans: red
tides and dead zones. Approximately a third of our oceans are already
dead! The United Nations is alarmed about the size, number and
increasing frequency of dead zones. The National Oceanic and
Atmospheric Association data suggest that these events are increasing.
Here is a list of Web addresses for related studies.21 I’ve made everyone a
copy.”
“Thank you, Sarah,” Father commends, handing them around. “That
should make interesting reading.”
Clayton is next to speak. “Father, Joe and I were discussing something
and I feel we should share it with the group, although we haven’t
completed discernment about it.”
“By all means, share it. We can do our own discernment. Practicing
careful discernment is a good habit to cultivate. We don’t have to always
be correct at the beginning. We have to always be careful at the beginning
so we can be correct at the end.”
“Very well, then, it concerns Zechariah 12. Joe and I take Zechariah
12 to be addressing the last battle.”
Clayton opens his Bible, a new St. Joseph edition in burgundy leather,
with gold leaf. “Here it is . . .
On that day, the LORD will shield the inhabitants of
Jerusalem, and the weakling among them shall be like David
on that day, and the house of David godlike, like an angel of
the LORD before them.
“That’s a powerful verse; what do you propose as the meaning of it?”
“Joe and I think it means that, as the Lord says in the verses preceding
this one, the tents of Judah will be secured first. Judah, we feel, represents
those with a faith full enough to be active spiritual warriors. Judah was
always the vanguard of the Hebrew army during the exodus. We feel the
Lord is extending additional gifts to his modern Church’s spiritual
vanguard as the Church prepares to exit this world for the next.
“It struck Joe and I that selected Christians from among those actively
pursuing the spiritual warfare mission might, as the Lord’s instruments in
the last battle, reigning with him as his priestly people, be granted
powerful charisms that allow them to extend God’s protection to others in
an angelic or even godlike way. In this way those whose faith is not yet
full will be protected by those who have a solidly developed faith during
the more intense periods of Satan’s final assault until such time as they
can be brought into closer communion with God to be able to stand on
their own spiritual legs, as it were.
“We were reading Cardinal Suenens’ small e-book, Renewal and the
Powers of Darkness. Cardinal Suenens makes a distinction between
power of all Christians and the authority of the bishops that we feel most
Christians, at least on the Protestant side, tend to blur as if they were the
same thing. He said that all Christians have Christ within them, and
therefore they have the full power to punch out a demon in a moment of
frustration, but not the authority to overpower a demon and keep them
down. In other words, it’s a very dangerous thing to do.
“A spiritual bridge is created between the demon’s home in the
netherworld and our higher world here on Earth by our reaching towards
the demon. This is reaching down, way down, and allowing negative evil
forces to then reach up to gain access to Earth that they would not
otherwise have.
“As the successors of Christ’s apostles the bishops have the authority
to keep the demon in its place while punching it out, banishing it from our
world permanently or at least long term. But when lay Christians punch
out a demon they are not prevented from punching back and they are
given that additional instant of contact with our world that they can
leverage to move to infect other people in our vicinity, and infect
ourselves, assuming we are not entirely free of all attachment to all sins.
We don’t have the authority to exorcise demons, and using the power of
Christ within us to punch them out is not a wise move because it gives
additional contact with our world they wouldn’t otherwise have.
“The Church has currently reserved the authority to exorcise demons
to the bishops and their delegates, the priest they appoint as exorcists.
Therefore, lay Christians cannot take the offensive against the devil with
God’s full authority in terms of exorcism until the Church policy changes.
What lay Christians can and should do is offer prayers of deliverance
while ignoring the demonic presence completely to minimize its points of
contacts with our higher world.”
Father interrupts to confirm.
“Prayers of deliverance are the correct approach, and they work. The
Gospels say that Christians will drive out demons, but prayer is the
instrument by which this is done, not direct combat. Prayer brings God
into the picture without increasing the demons’ points of contact with our
world. Where the light of God shines, the darkness of Satan cannot
remain. Go ahead and finish your thoughts. This is good stuff.”
“Well, we theorized, however, that, despite the lay Christian’s inability
to exorcise demons directly, a defensive charism might be offered to some
of the faithful for this special event. We think it possible that Zechariah 12
prophetically announces a gift of this kind. Since the gift of love is the
greatest gift and tends to produce similar protective effects anyway, we
thought it likely that God-fearing people with the gift of love would be the
most likely recipients of this kind of protective charism that could be used
to protect the weaker members of the flock during this embattled time as
they continue to grow in the faith.”
Clayton closes his first amateur attempt at scriptural exposition with a
questioning look at Father Bernie.
“Not bad—for your first attempt,” Father praises Joe and Clayton in
the dramatic personae of Ian McKellen’s movie characterization of
Gandalf the Wizard. “I’ll research the Zechariah 12 passage further, but
your reading rings true—yes, it rings true.
“Hey! All kidding aside, banish your doubts! As far as general
concepts are concerned you are right on the money. This is what priests
do every day when they bless the members of their parish in the Mass,
strengthen them for the spiritual battle. The only question concerns
specific charisms for the lay Christian to do something similar as God’s
priestly people. It is a perfectly natural thing to occur. The bishops
mandate to bring Christ to the flock is carried out in large part by the
priests and deacons, but the job is enormous and lay Christians also play a
big role. It is a perfectly natural thing to occur, but we can’t presume
extraordinary gifts such as charisms, they must be submitted to the
Church for official scrutiny. I take it, Clayton, that one or both of you
believes you may such a charism?”
“No, Father, it is actually Garfield who seems to have the charism, and
his gift seems to be largely directed at protecting children. Joe and I were
thinking that an organized prayer ministry directed at the same goal, to
protect the worldwide Church that is so intensively under attack, would
also be a useful way to contribute to solving the same problem of how to
help people vulnerable to demonic overrun.”
“I see. Garfield and I have discussed his charism, and it seems to be
valid. The bishop has someone reviewing it now. How do you plan to
implement your prayer ministry in practical terms?”
“We have tried to do it by simultaneously praying the Rosary for
community members and family who may need additional protection
while focusing the love and light of Christ on them in the Spirit. It seems
to work in a big way. We were blessed every time we tried it over the past
few weeks.
“We include the entire world community in our prayers at least once
each day, focusing on the particularly tough situations in the news, war,
famine, terrorism, extreme poverty, hostages, earthquake and tsunami
victims, trapped miners, children scheduled for abortion, the ill and
elderly in final perseverance, and the lost sheep living without Christ,
fallen dangerously under the devil’s influence.
“We are going to work up a chart of the international time zones. Then
we will spend a few hours praying for each nation during the time they are
most likely to be up and actively involved in making important policy
decisions, conducting rescue operations, etc.”
“You didn’t happen to be up late last night saying these prayers by any
chance?” Garfield inquires.
“As a matter of fact we were praying last night, and you were on the
top of the list. We were teaching the kids the power of prayer. Since you
are one of their favorite persons, we offered a number of prayers in your
behalf. It kept them up late, but was worth it. I suspect the entire
kindergarten and the high school are well cleared of demonic obstruction
by now.”
“Well I can tell you it works. A great burden was lifted from me last
night—thanks be to God! I slept like a baby afterwards and haven’t had a
demonic obstruction all day. I don’t remember such a clear day!”
“Thanks be to God!” comes from the team.
“Outstanding work!” Father commends. “You are clearly on the right
track. As a matter of fact, I felt a blessing last night myself. Thanks for
keeping me in your prayers.”
“You’ll always be there, Father,” comes from several members at
once.
Father Bernie bows his head as God blesses him on behalf of those
present who love him and appreciate his service to God and the
community.
By the time the invitation for comments gets halfway around the table,
the three guinea pigs begin to feel weak and disoriented. Father has no
choice but to excuse himself as not well. He hurriedly leaves for home.
Joe is not long behind him.
Clayton holds out another hour and a half until the meeting adjourns.
Once out the door, however, he wastes no time getting home and into
bed—sleeping thirty-six hours.
He awakens as his wife, Margaret, is on the phone with the family
doctor. Clayton has been known to sleep twelve to fourteen hours after a
week of intense workouts—but this? Stretching, flexing and rippling
muscles most bodies do not have, Clayton jokes about over training, and
having to keep up with Garfield in the gym.
“I never had to compete with a giant before.”
“At least he’s a lovable giant.”
“That he is.” Clayton laughs, remembering Garfield’s endless jokes.
Clayton’s pretense of wellness barely succeeds, and only because of
his rippling muscles. Margaret’s protective instincts have alerted—upon
what she doesn’t know. Clayton has not told her of the classified genetic
research project.
“False alarm,” she is obliged to inform the doctor. “He says he is
fine.”
Joe’s striking Korean wife, Elizabeth, has not been told of the genetic
engineering study either. She has been out on the West Coast visiting her
aging mother for three days. It seems that a suddenly generous husband
surprised her with a trip she had long hoped for.
***
Friday evening, Joe prepared his video camera to record the “blood
moon” astronomical event for the end time study group’s permanent
records.
Father took his beloved telescope out of the closet and cleaned the
lens. He set it up just inside the sliding glass doors to the back porch of
the rectory—excited to be witnessing an event of biblical prophecy
firsthand.
Come Saturday morning the guinea pigs were substantially recovered,
though still weak. They would have preferred to remain home in bed but
had promised to join Pam and Garfield on an early morning outing.
Margaret, Elizabeth and the kids negotiated another trip to the factory
outlets to upgrade their fall fashions as fair compensation.
Father Bernie and his entourage set out on the road to Bloomington
and the I.U. campus quite early, eager to do theological research at the
massive Indiana University Herman Wells Library. The genius of their
plan is to assault the giant library only after a bolstering breakfast at the
pleasant cafés downtown.
This scenic portion of Indiana is replete with antique sales and artist
colonies. Artists come in this weekend from a dozen states for the annual
arts and crafts fair.22 The trip is admittedly recreational, but Father Bernie
hopes to find some interesting materials at the library as a bonus.
Joe and Pam joined Garfield at his favorite spot: The Village Deli on
Kirkwood Avenue, a cozy spot divided between hardwood booths in one
room and chrome-trimmed, black-lacquered tables in the other. They elect
a booth on the left near the window.
“Babe-orama Avenue out there. Just look at it. Beautiful coeds
everywhere as far as the eye can see!” Garfield’s remarks are wasted upon
his friends, neither of whom has any interest in gorgeous college babes.
Joe ordered a huge Southwestern omelet, the biggest he has found
anywhere. “There must be five eggs in this thing,” he observed, hefting
the plate with both hands.
“There must be,” Pam responded, blowing her cheeks out to indicate
the way Joe would look soon.
“Mind if I borrow a small sample?” Pam warns, already reaching
across for the corner with the green onions falling out.
“You can borrow fully half of this thing if you want! Here . . . ”
Joe cuts off a large chunk, adding several spoons of salsa.
The toast, marmalade and coffeecake were all perfect, making it a
great start to the day. They aren’t overindulging for its own sake here.
Everyone knows the monster library will exhaust them in the end.
Garfield had the same as Joe, adding the Village Deli trademark giant
blueberry pancake. It overhung his plate by a good half inch.
Much to Pam’s credit, her figure reflects her practiced restraint at
table. However, having experienced the exhaustion of two previous
sorties into Herman Wells, she today permits a minor rules violation, glad
of the extra strength Joe’s remnants add to her poached eggs and fruit
bowl. When Garfield passes a wedge of pancake, she doesn’t object. They
are going to approach Father Bernie’s research assignment as a serious
though fascinating task.
Father Bernie and Clayton wandered down the opposite side of
Kirkwood Avenue to Michael’s Uptown Café. Father refuses to eat
anywhere else. As the waitress brings dessert, Father leans back with a
rich espresso and takes in the red brick-walled environment. Such a quaint
and unassuming little place—the answer to an old Catholic’s prayer.
He studies the current local art exhibition certain to adorn the walls of
Michael’s. This one features brightly colored Caribbean scenes in fused
glass: $300, $400, $550. Six months ago he couldn’t have contemplated
purchasing one of these, but now he thought how well the set of eight
would brighten his dark rooms at the rectory. Add another multi-bulb
array lamp and his working environment could be upgraded from
Transylvania to the Bahamas. After all, the artist has to earn a living too.
There is no way he could paint something like that in the time it takes to
earn several hundred dollars—no way.
Father suddenly remembers the giant paint-by-number oil painting set
he promised himself years ago (the year he failed to get it for Christmas).
Since that tenth birthday, he has repeatedly deferred getting one, instead
giving any accrued abundance to charity. Those paint-by-number sets can
turn out a landscape good enough to frame. I know, I’ll get a paint-bynumber set, the big one. Then I’ll donate the $3,000 difference from the
price of these gems in fused glass to the Little Sisters of Mercy convent.
Still, I bet it won’t be as bright as these babies. Well, maybe I can tinker
with the numbers a little.
“Clayton, don’t let me forget: I need to stop by the Treasure Chest on
the way home; there’s something I have to pick up.”
“Sure, Father. I’ll make a note of it.”
Breathing a sigh of contentment, Clayton savors the moment. He
acknowledges that Michael’s is his favorite spot as well. Delicious food,
nice people, no one shooting at him. The trademark silhouette of an
urbane man sipping a steaming cup of good coffee looks down from the
opposite wall. It seems to nod in his direction, welcoming him back.
“Father!” Clayton exclaims noticing movement in the image. He fears
another poltergeist.
“One of ours,” Father assures him with a smile.
Michael’s is noted for beautiful waitresses and the special charm of its
hostess who leaves her patrons in no doubt that they have entered her own
home as a good friend. The gregarious gourmet chef strides through the
dining room greeting everyone, consummating the perfect dining
experience.
Michael’s has brought a lot of class to this small town. Anticipating
the blessing Father invariably conveys during his perennial visits to the
café, the chef remarks “God bless you too, Father,” en route to the
kitchen. Tears form before he can get there. Father carries a bigger gun.
“It’s going to be a fun day. I think I’ll go so far as to permit myself the
rare drink to celebrate the Lord’s outpouring of his Spirit in these last
days.” Father looks through the silhouette window to the vintage leather
bar on the other side. They cover the check, slip through the saloon doors,
and settle in comfortably.
“Johnny Walker . . . Black . . . on the rocks.”
Turning to Clayton, Father wants to be sure: “You’re driving, right?”
“No, Joe is. They don’t have a bar at the Village Deli.
“Samuel Adams, please,” Clayton informs the bartender.
“Great. Make that a double,” Father impulsively amends his order.
“Congestion, you know.”
Placing a hand to his throat Father Bernie is surprised to discover how
rapidly that congestion is growing.
“Aha!” Pam startles them, peaking through the saloon doors. “Caught
in the act!”
As Mike, the bartender, places Father’s drink, she taps her finger on
the bar with an unmistakable nod. Mike pours her the same.
Taking in her pleasant smile and the amiable dispositions of the others,
Mike leans over the bar, listening. Father’s clerical collar notwithstanding,
he considers the unlikely possibility that he has three real Christians
before him. Virtually impossible in these troubled times. Just the same,
he’ll stay alert, perhaps probe around a bit for clues.
Mike is a veteran spiritual warrior. He has been working with a newly
formed charismatic cell of The Legion of Mary. They have expressly
opposed themselves in the Spirit to the large klatch of downtown Satanists
for which the town is somewhat infamous among the outlying middle
class Christian communities. While still hoping to bring the Satanists
home to God, the Legion has been compelled to acknowledge the
increased tempo of spiritual battle. In response, they have added the
defeat of Satan’s forces to their weekly prayer list.
Mike loves everyone, yet trusts no one—not until the fruit of the tree
becomes clear. Not in this late hour. He offers nonverbal prayer in his
heart throughout the day and very strictly gives a full 10% to the Church
and the poor. He does this, not from legalism, but from compassion. Mike
has traveled enough to know families are suffering out there. He cares.
God has generously blessed him because of it, and because of his
devotion to Mass, St. Mary and the Rosary. Mike, Miguel Oliva
Aravantes Martinez, retired trick rider and minor rodeo star, attends
confession regularly and absolutely refuses to end a day without a
heartfelt Rosary.
Confession alone keeps the demons off him.23 Mike has sins, of
course; but he doesn’t want them. More to the point, he doesn’t plan on
keeping them. Because of the wholeness of his faith Mike has attained a
joyous state of grace and is in full communion with the Church.
Pam notices the absence of a ring. She admires Mike’s chiseled
Hispanic/Italian features in a chaste way, with an artist’s eye only; there is
no other man in her life but Hugh Axton.
Mike is a struggling actor now, retired from the rodeo the past three
years. His pleasant but austere countenance blends Ché Guevara with the
Marlboro Man. He won’t be single long. Pam pegs him at 25 but he is a
good twelve years older. Competitive riding is now a thing of the past for
Mike. He’ll do the occasional Hollywood stunt, but that’s it. Miguel still
rides some. He frequents the local gym to stay in shape.
Pam has ostensibly come over in advance of the big eaters to inquire
about the research focus, but, truth be told, she just likes hanging out with
Father Bernie. Having the opportunity to follow-up theological questions
with an expert in real time offers more progress in a weekend outing than
months of self-study—no missing pieces, no fruitless rabbit trails, no red
herrings. Father Bernie’s expositions of scripture are always on target, and
he ties them into the entire book. His interpretations don’t have to be
tossed out later when additional cross referencing raises objections. Father
Bernie knows the Good Book backwards and forwards. Been there and
done that.
“What would you like us to dig out of the sixteen million materials at
Herman Wells for you today, Father?”
“I’m looking for references on interpretive methods and discussions
that reveal the full depth of meaning and richness of the scripture,” Father
informs her.
“Is that all?”
“As you may know, the recommended method of interpreting the
Bible, the Neo-Patristic method,24 implies a certain depth in
acknowledging that there are four senses in which any passage can be
understood. John F. McCarthy, in Lesson One of the Roman Theological
Forum’s Scripture Study Program, mirrors the catechism’s remarks in
describing those four senses as ‘ . . . the literal sense, the allegorical sense,
the moral sense, and the eschatological sense (also known as the final
sense).’
“If a scriptural passage is skillfully written, and they all are, it can say
something literal, symbolic, moral and apocalyptic all at the same time.
But the true depth of scripture goes far beyond even these four senses to a
profound message that can speak to anyone anytime anywhere, extending
further on to a true mystical quality. Ultimately a full understanding of
scripture can lead one to the beatific vision of God himself.
“One of my favorite quotes is from Pope Leo XIII’s encyclical
Providentissimus Deus: ‘For the language of the Bible is employed to
express, under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, many things which are
beyond the power and scope of the reason of man—that is to say, Divine
mysteries and all that is related to them. There is sometimes in such
passages a fullness and a hidden depth of meaning which the letter hardly
expresses and which the laws of grammatical interpretation hardly
warrant.’25
“The depth of scripture is further enhanced by recurring typological
themes. This can yield interesting insights. Revelation 6:12-13, for
example, is well known and often cited because it is so dramatic. We take
the signs in the heavens event happening tonight to be one of the intended
referents for that passage, as mentioned in the newsletter. However, given
the frequent recurrence of themes in scripture, we may be witnessing
tonight only one part of the events described in Revelation 6:12-13, one
occurrence in a set of similar events that occur through history. There may
be much more cataclysmic versions of similar astronomical disruptions
that will occur far later when the end actually comes. One constitutes the
signs of the end, and the other is the end of the signs!26
Congratulating himself on a nice turn of phrase, Father takes a sip and
continues. “Nonetheless, the amount of time involved between the
beginning of the true signs of the end, and the later events signaling the
final destruction of this world, could still be enormous. It doesn’t have to
be enormous—but it could be. The end could come tonight, of course.
Only God the Father knows the day and the hour.27
“Make mine Irish,” Clayton decides to permit himself the second drink
in celebration of these great events. Given Father’s last remark perhaps it
would be wise to squeeze one more in while he still can. He indicates the
bottle of Bushmills to the bartender.
Father and Pam shake their heads; two is enough.
“Time to head to the library,” Joe announces from behind. “Looks like
I’m driving.”
“It looks like you are,” Garfield remarks coming through the door
behind him and casting a shadow as he leans in at the bar. He holds up
Clayton’s empty Sam Adams bottle for the bartender.
Joe takes advantage of the delay to order an ice-cold non-alcoholic
O’Doul’s.
“How was breakfast at the Deli?” Father asks, knowing the answer.
“Great!” the men respond.
“I enjoyed mine too,” Pam puts in, pulling her long red hair back to
apply an elastic “scrunchie.” She creates an attractive makeshift ponytail
and fluffs it out at the bottom revealing beautiful copper highlights. “It’s
shaping up to be a good day—it’s glorious outside.”
“Well, let’s not spend it all in here.”
Garfield finishes his beer.
Father rises, reaching for his jacket but fails to retrieve it. Becoming
quickly faint, he, abruptly sits down again, a hand to his forehead.
Getting up quickly to check on Father, Clayton finds himself
immediately sitting back down with a bout of the same thing.
Joe seems to be feeling the better of the three guinea pigs today, but he
has had no alcohol. He makes a mental note that, whatever this DOD
experiment is, alcohol does not seem to mix with it.
Having picked up on Mike’s earlier scrutiny of their conversation,
Clayton leans on and then over the bar to shake Mike’s hand. Mike meets
him halfway, offering his.
“Yes, we’re all Christians, Mike, and God bless you.
“Clayton Delaney,” he says extending a large forearm towards Mike.
Mike shakes his strong hand with a grip equally firm, smiling. “Mike
Martinez.”
Pulling back his hand Mike realizes there is a business card in it:
Christian End Times Study Group
The Beanery, West Lafayette, IN
Tuesdays, 7:00 p.m.
Open to the public
God is real!
“He’s real!” Mike confirms. “I’ll stop in next trip north. You people
take care, and God bless!”
Mike prays for them. Knowing he would be unable to properly bless a
priest given his understanding of Abraham and Melchizedek’s meeting in
Genesis 14 where the spiritually senior person blesses the junior, he asks
God to do it for him.28
Squeezing through the saloon doors, Clayton is forced to use Father
Bernie’s shoulder as a crutch. The faintness returns. He raises his
eyebrows in a nonverbal “Whew!”
Father’s nod indicates that he is doing little better. Fortunately, Mike’s
prayer is soon answered and they are visibly strengthened.
“Mike, must have prayed for us,” Father remarks, stretching his back
and refocusing his eyes.
“I should say he did,” Pam confirms, dabbing tears.
Outside it is indisputably a glorious day, bright and clear, a light cool
breeze blowing.
“Hard to believe that Thanksgiving is only two weeks away. We’re
parked OK,” Pam suggests, “Let’s wander around a bit and enjoy the
campus. We can follow the winding streams up to the library.”
“Why not?” Clayton agrees. “We can make it alright.” Being the
physical equivalent of a small bull, he assumes a stroll in the fresh air
across the beautiful campus with its winding creeks, old stone
architecture, and expansive lawns will refresh him and relieve the malaise
of the shot. He also looks forward to intercepting a few of the inevitable
footballs passed around by the fraternity guys.
Father sees this jaunt as more of a threat of complete exhaustion than
refreshment, but he doesn’t want to alarm anyone. His I hope so is
unstated.
Angling left they arrive at a circular drive and fountain: seven streams
shooting twenty feet into the air bathe a reclining mermaid. Bypassing the
I.U. Art Museum on their left, they recall that the Western Room on the
ground floor has a first class collection of religious artwork.
“Not today, I’m afraid,” Father responds to the raised eyebrows and
craned necks extending in that direction. Father doesn’t know why,
exactly, but gets the feeling this is all occurring on a tight schedule. The
Lord works in mysterious ways.
The circuitous path of their recreational walk was uphill and turned out
somewhat longer than anticipated. Looking up at the looming monolith of
Herman Wells their resolve fails them.
Garfield reads the tired faces and instinctively provides the excuse
they need.
“What say we take a moment to review our research plan before
tackling the stacks. There’s a nice coffee shop just a block down 10th
Street over there. Some of the best fruit smoothies going?”
“Read my mind,” Father sighs.
“Hey guys, you’re not going to believe this,” Joe begins as they sit
down to enjoy their drinks. “I met the Antichrist last night.”
Both Pam and Father Bernie spew coffee and make fast recoveries
with napkins.
Father is first to return to the subject.
“You did what?”
“I met the Antichrist last night. At least that’s what he claimed under
the test of spirits when I prayed for it.”
“You can’t believe a word any of those demons say. They will tell you
yes and no to the same question if it will keep your attention on them. I
thought we discussed how dangerous it is to respond to demons directly.
They’re just looking for a point of access into our world, which is
provided by giving them your attention. You should pray for help and
ignore them completely. It is dangerous to listen to even a single word.
Demons don’t speak to communicate. Words are door-openers for them,
not language. They just want another opportunity to attack.
“And don’t look at them either. Their images are all lies as well as
their words. Demons will impersonate God himself. Hearing spiritual
voices and seeing spiritual images are dangerous events, almost always
demonic. God touches our hearts to give us a message; he doesn’t need to
bend our ears or give us a light show.”
“I know, I know Father. I made a dangerous mistake there. As you
instructed in our last meeting, the test of spirits is not a verbal inquiry of
spiritual entities; it’s a discerning evaluation of the nature of someone’s
actions to see if they are in line with Christ’s teachings or opposed to
them. But, having made the mistake from old habits, there it is, that’s
what he claimed to be.”
“The question is not what he claimed. ‘He’ is a liar. The question is
what did you believe, in your heart, what has your faith and the Spirit led
you to discern of the situation.”
Noticing from Joe’s body language that he hasn’t budged from this
conviction, Father takes a slug of hot coffee, and looks Joe in the eye.
“What has the Spirit led you to believe?”
“I believe it was the Antichrist,” Joe says bluntly. “Not just any one of
the many spirits that deny Christ, and therefore can, in a lesser sense, be
called an anti-Christ. They all do that. I believe this is the Antichrist: a
powerful spirit with a unique task aimed at deluding mankind and
directing them away from the truth about God.”
“You met the devil, Joe. Plain and simple,” Father proclaims.
“Devil, Antichrist: what’s the difference?”
“Not much.”
It’s Joe’s turn to look Father in the eye, “There’s something else.”
“There always is.” Father says. The shot is still beating him up and the
devil has now begun to set on Father Bernie regularly to try to aggravate
his medical condition.
“Give me a moment to get a refill. A spirit kept me up last night too. I
had no interest in getting its name, however.”
As an officially appointed exorcist with the Bishop’s authority he
waves the thing off on the way to the coffee tap with a brief adjuration
and prayer.
Father returns to his chair, adjusting his position to give Joe his full
attention. “OK, Joe. I’m ready. Let’s have the rest of it.”
“I couldn’t get this thing off me with prayer and fasting; it continues to
dog me. I can feel the thing pawing at me even now.”
“Really?” Father intones, tongue in cheek. He repeats the prayer and
adjuration just issued for his own protection again on Joe’s behalf,
forming the sign of the cross over Joe and tapping him on the head
affectionately with a blessing.
“Thanks for that, Father. You’re a life saver.”
“No problem.”
Unbeknownst to Father or Joe, Clayton and Garfield have had this
same experience of encountering the Antichrist. They immediately affirm
Joe’s discernment that for some reason the encounter seemed very
authentic.
Father is now openly alarmed. “Couldn’t get rid of it at all, huh? Not
even after prayer and fasting?”
Father Bernie looks first to Garfield to confirm this, though the others
attach no significance to the deference. They are unaware the two have
collaborated on a secret journal project outside the study group
concerning Satan’s final assault upon the Church.
“Not even after prayer and fasting,” Garfield confirms. “I’ve been
trying for weeks, and couldn’t do it. Or, perhaps I did remove it in the
sense of removing its tentacles from me personally, but the spirit is clearly
still out there haunting our world because it intrudes every time I try to
pray. I didn’t mention it because I was afraid someone would make fun of
me for believing the Antichrist was here. There is something different
about this one.”
“If someone makes fun of you Garfield, you tell me and I’ll take care
of it,” Pam ribs the 425-pound muscular giant, patting his enormous rocksolid bicep.
“I agree with Garfield,” Clayton interjects. “I became so frustrated that
in an act of faith I can’t fully explain I struck it with the Sword of Christ
per Ephesians chapter six, and not just once. I have a tentative theory
about this, but it’s not good news. It concerns 2 Thessalonians, chapter
two. This passage was mentioned in a recent newsletter from Stephan
McCarroll, your messianic Jewish friend, publisher of the Internet
newsletter, Middle East Peace Update Report.”
Father looks into his shoulder bag for his Bible. He reaches across to
gently smack Clayton in the chest with it. “Here’s another chance to hone
your expositional skills. We can practice the neo-Patristic method. It will
be a good warm-up for our research.”
After a moment to find the passage, Clayton begins to read.
“Verse eleven: ‘Therefore God is sending them a deceiving power so
that they may believe the lie, that all who have not believed the truth but
have approved wrongdoing may be condemned.’ And, just above in verse
seven it says the following: ‘For the mystery of lawlessness is already at
work. But, the one who restrains is to do so only for the present, until he
is removed from the scene. And then the lawless one will be revealed,
whom the Lord (Jesus) will kill with the breath of his mouth and render
powerless by the manifestation of his coming . . . ”
“That’s bad news alright,” Pam agrees.
“That’s not bad news, that’s good news.” One of Father’s patented
spontaneous dramatic impersonations erupts: Bud Abbot, of the 1950’s
comedy team, Abbot and Costello. “Jesus kills the so-and-so, and he’s
History Channel.”
“We’re not permitting you to drink any more, Father,” Pam announces
to chuckles from the group.
Smiling, Father braves another sip of coffee.
“Whatever are ‘manifestations’ Father?” Pam asks. “Why doesn’t St.
Paul just say ‘after Christ returns, he kills it’?”
“I’m not sure,” Father responds, “but I rule out neither the Holy Spirit
nor the body of believers who constitute Christ’s mystical body, the
Church, ourselves, as good candidates for that manifestation.
“The ‘breath of his mouth’ clearly refers to the Holy Spirit, who is
already present here, or perhaps it refers to God speaking through a
prophet, or both. Psalm 33 says that the host of heaven was made by the
‘breath of his mouth.’ Since the Holy Spirit is the Lord, the Giver of Life,
that firmly points to the Holy Spirit as the ‘breath of his mouth.’ From
that point of view, the deceiver could be quote unquote ‘killed’ anytime,
although exorcised fallen angels never fully pass out of existence; they
just pass out of our existence.
“The Holy Spirit can be expressed in a variety of ways. Therefore,
another possibility is that the destruction of the deceiver could result from
worldwide preaching of the Gospel. Psalm 33 closely associates the
‘Lord’s word’ with the Holy Spirit. Christ, himself, is substantially united
with the Bible, the word of God, himself being the Word of God, capital
‘W’, the living Word. Perhaps the more that the word of God is
manifested, the more the Word of God is manifested, and his Spirit.
“We, the faithful, are joined with Christ. Through baptism and by
accepting Christ and his gifts in the Eucharist, then actively developing
and expressing our faith in the Mass, the Holy Sacraments and in our
everyday lives, the body of believers may more and more come to be a
substantial manifestation of Christ’s impending return in and of
themselves.
“Being so closely connected, all of these things are very likely part of
that manifestation…or…perhaps Christ simply does return and kill it.
More probably, all the above.”
“I’m no theologian, but I will say this much, Father,” Joe interjects,
“as long as the killing of unborn children is sanctioned by society under
guise of law, I’ll wager that the son of a dog isn’t dead.”
“Abortion is the devil’s work,” Father admits, solemnly shaking his
head. There are moments when even he cannot believe, much less morally
countenance, how bad things have become: 50,000,000 innocent children
slaughtered. Righteous anger always builds within him when he
contemplates this unthinkable tragedy, no doubt another strike at God’s
most innocent creations largely contrived by the devil.
“By the way,” Father adds, “don’t underestimate the power of the
‘Sword of Christ’ as you called it. Don’t get me wrong. Lay Christians are
not authorized to do exorcisms, but the sword of the Spirit is a major
component of the armor of God that St. Paul exhorts us to put on in
Ephesians chapter six. It is a powerful offensive tool from the Holy Spirit;
the demons feel it. Don’t doubt that for a moment.
“But it is not intended for routine use as a direct weapon; it symbolizes
the entire gamut of positive actions taken by the entire Church that
together manifest Christ’s victory over sin, death, and evil. Though one
might have a charism to occasionally strike a direct blow against the
devil, it would be the rarest of gift, and is always a very dangerous thing
to do otherwise. This is not a valid routine expression of the what the
scripture calls the ‘Sword of Christ,’ rare charisms notwithstanding.
“The Church teaches that the only sure and safe way for a layman to
get rid of a demon is to pray for their removal. Confronting a demon
directly, even with the Sword of the Spirit, merely compounds the
problem of demonic affliction by instigating a spiritual wrestling match.
Invitation to personal combat brings the demon closer to our world. A
bridge is built in extending the human spirit to the netherworld in order to
directly address the demon. Laymen cannot win that supernatural match
minus the authority to perform an exorcism, which the Church has not
presently extended to them. It is reserved to the bishop.
“Demons keep coming back because laymen lack the authority to
make the action permanent via exorcism. Demons are presumed to be
infinite in number, or nearly so; they don’t need sleep; and they have
absolutely nothing else to do. We, on the other hand, do need sleep and
have much better things to do than wrestle a gigantic living moral
obscenity all day long every day for years. Better just to ignore the
demons entirely, pray, and report any persistent problems to your priest.
Knowing all of this, if the demons can get an attachment to you through
sin or convince some local Satanists to focus a spell or curse in your
direction in order to create contact, the demon will intentionally try to
provoke a fight with you knowing that you don’t have the bishop’s
authority necessary to win that fight. Don’t let them sucker punch you that
way. Ignore them and resort to prayer. Ask for the priest’s help if you
need it.
“Having said that, Malachi chapter 3 says that in the day of the Lord
those who fear God will gamble forth like calves from their stall and trod
down the wicked. Obadiah, Zechariah 10 and 12 confirm this. Micah 4
and others say much the same, many adding that the stubble of the wicked
will be burned up by the fire of the Holy Spirit expressed through God’s
people on earth.
“More to the point, if Clayton’s reading of Zechariah 12 is correct,
then the faithful warriors of God may even become angelic or godlike,
empowered to help shield the innocent once God has called the remnant
and poured his Spirit out upon them.
“In the latter days it is clear that we will be warriors of God, and
supernaturally empowered—but this still falls short of authorization to
perform the Holy Rite of Exorcism. And, while, these passages do smack
of extraordinary charisms, the bulk of this kind of work will still be done,
as always, through humble prayer.
“If, as it now appears, the genuine precursors of that great and terrible
day of the Lord are upon us, some of the laity may have special
charismatic gifts not otherwise routinely available to defeat these demons,
but those gifts must be submitted to the Church for official validation.
“In any case, the instrument almost always used to ground, empower,
invoke, and deliver a charism on target is the exact same instrument that
makes humble prayer so effective: genuine love and compassion for the
people you are trying to help and trust in the Lord to protect his people.
This is why Cardinal Suenens insisted that the Our Father, the Lord’s
Prayer, is the consummate prayer of deliverance. Prayer can accomplish
indirectly anything a charism can do directly, and in the case of ridding
ourselves of demonic afflictions prayer is the only safe approach to take.
“As far as the charisms that seem to be implied in the prophetic
passages you cited, it is far from clear that the demons are being
addressed directly. Almost certainly this is not the case.
“The charisms of Zechariah 12 and related passages appear to be
defensive in nature and are to be invoked only when in the Spirit. God
will lead us in the use of these gifts based upon the exigencies of the
moment, but the basic principle of the reservation of the authority to
perform exorcism to the bishop and his appointed exorcists is not altered
in any way by these passages.”
“That’s noted,” Joe responds.
“The bottom line is that, we, the entire community of believers, priest,
deacon, vowed religious, and lay Christian alike, as components of
Christ’s mystical body, will all have important roles to play in this final
conflict before all is said and done.”
“Father, do you really think the deceiver of 2 Thessalonians could be
present and active now?” Pam asks.
“In one sense, the deceiver has always been active. He is just a major
manifestation of Satan, after all. But you mean, could the deceiver be
active in the sense of comprising one of the primary historical eruptions of
evil such as the Beast and the Antichrist have traditionally been
understood to represent as real historical events. I’m not ruling that out.
But, if he is, many people who have unwisely chosen to serve him are in a
lot of trouble. They may not be able to break out of the heavy deception
the Lord has permitted to be visited upon those who have rejected the
truth in their hearts.”
He gestures to Clayton to return his Bible.
“Also, if you notice, this very passage of 2 Thessalonians chapter two
provides a perfect example of the multiple meanings concept we are here
to research. The footnotes cite three separate options for the interpretation
of verse seven.29 The authors stop short of saying these are all intended
meanings, but they are clearly implied to be interpretive options. Neither
do the footnotes rule out more than one option being true at the same
time.
“OK, the verse in question is verse seven: ‘ . . . But the one who
restrains,’ meaning he who, or that which, restrains the lawlessness that
comes from Satan, ‘ . . . is to do so only for the present, until he is
removed from the scene.’”
“The three interpretive options stated in the footnotes indicate that the
restraining force might alternatively be understood as (1) the Roman
Empire, a civilized culture holding to the rule of law, which holds back
the chaos of the barbarian world at or near the time of the writing of
Thessalonians, or similar forces acting even today to maintain law and
order; (2) heavenly powers (almost certainly St. Michael the Archangel,
captain of the heavenly host) restraining Satanic forces of evil (including
the Antichrist/deceiver); or (3) the completion of world-wide preaching of
the Gospel, which restrains the final end in the sense that the end cannot
come until the Gospel is preached to the entire world in accordance with
God’s will.
“There is a certain compelling logic inherent in the third option in that
evil should not be unleashed upon the innocent until they are given the
Gospel with which to defend themselves. Otherwise, it is a forgone
conclusion that the innocent would be defeated and overrun by the vastly
more powerful fallen angels.
“This same logic may also serve to support Clayton’s view of
Zechariah 12, providing a means for the faithful to make up the temporary
deficit in the faith of others, shielding them through prayer using personal
charisms of love and deliverance granted under Zechariah 12.
“Never forget, it is love that empowers these actions, not hate and
anger. Love empowers all Christian actions, otherwise, they are not
Christian. Although righteous anger is often called for in the presence of
evil, we should not allow anger to supplant love as the central focus of the
Christian spirit.
“Back to the subject of 2 Thessalonians. All three interpretive options
seem very reasonable on the surface. The first two are reasonably selfevident and the third is, of course, fully compatible with the truth
elsewhere expressed in the Bible, at Matthew 24 for example.30 Nothing
prevents all these interpretations being true at the same time.
“Furthermore, if the deceiver is sent by God, then it is God’s purpose
that is being served. The deceiver will be limited to deception of only the
selected people that God has allowed to be so affected. Much as when the
Lord selectively hardened the heart of Pharaoh in the first fourteen
chapters of Exodus and predisposed the Egyptians to plunder themselves,
the deceiver of 2 Thessalonians chapter two appears to be just such a
selectively targeted, God-directed event.
“Beyond that, as the excellent footnotes to the New American Bible
tell us at chapter 3 of Hebrews, the first fourteen chapters of Exodus
provide the perfect model for the overriding pattern of end times events: a
cycle of blessings and punishments that repeats until the wheat is fully
separated from the chaff.”
Pam breaks in. “But, given the urgent danger for those who don’t
know of the threat posed by the deceiver, shouldn’t the Christian
community be taking stronger action in an attempt to somehow break
through to the scientific, materialist, humanist groups, whatever you want
to call them—even the Satanists—who just don’t get it. If the light
doesn’t come on before the curtain of deception comes down from the
deceiver”—Pam is genuinely concerned that not enough is being done to
avoid the imminent catastrophe of people being locked into the deception
supernaturally imposed by the deceiver—“these people may be
condemned beyond help.” Pam finishes through a veil of tears she had not
anticipated.
Father reminds her that no one is ever fully beyond the opportunity for
conversion. Still fighting the mental fog caused by the shot, he then
smacks himself audibly on the head. “I think the light has just come on. I
had begun to say that we must hurry to their aid if your concerns are on
target . . . ”
“But they are not on target, are they Father? That’s not what’s
happening here.” Garfield’s amazing speed of cognition has caught him
up with Father Bernie.
“Huh-uh. ‘It’s not what’s happening’—it’s what has already happened!
“Let’s think for a moment. The author of 1 John refers to the
Antichrist as already present and working as of the latter half of the first
century.31 St. Paul says the mystery of lawlessness is already at work as of
his own time. The function of the Antichrist is not so different from that
of the deceiver. The Antichrist contradicts the true sign of Christ and
leads people away from the truth. It makes sense that the Antichrist and
the deceiver would appear shortly after Christ in order to immediately try
to discredit our Savior and limit the effect of his victory on the cross, or to
delay it as much as possible, thereby proving Simeon’s prophecy and
establishing Christ as a sign to be contradicted.
“Throughout the 2,000 years of Christian history, then, those who
chose to reject Christ have always succumbed to the fog of deception
imposed by the deceiver. They are punished for rejecting Christ by
permitting them to fall deeper into deception. This event of the deceiver
of 2 Thessalonians 2 has been an ongoing punishment since the time of
Christ! What we are now seeing, therefore, cannot be the initial coming of
the spirit of the Antichrist/deceiver. It is more likely that we are
witnessing the revelation of the deceiver described in 2 Thessalonians two
that occurs toward the end of his tenure, not his advent.
“To return to our specific example, 2 Thessalonians 2:7, it would now
appear that the Antichrist and/or deceiver has been restrained by St.
Michael the Archangel until the time appointed for it to be revealed. At
the time the restraint goes away the evil spirit’s activities will become
apparent to all—probably because of its unbridled aggression. When
something fully evil is attacking you with supernatural force, you tend to
notice.”
“Amen!” comes from Joe.
Garfield stands up and leans fully across the table.
“And . . . ?”
“And . . . we may, in fact, be beginning to notice just such an
aggression. I’ll give you that,” Father admits. “Certainly we are under
intensive attack.”
Pam interrupts. “But that would mean that, since the curtain of
deception has already been down . . . it is . . . exactly . . . ”
“ . . . the reason it is so hard to get through to people in the first place.”
Father finishes it for her.
“Let’s go to the library! Considering the news overseas, and all this
talk of the devil and the end of the world—it’s all starting to get to me.”
Pam is going to have to let all this digest for a while.
Six hours and many Signs of the Cross later, all except Garfield meet
at the tables near the main checkout desk.
“I don’t think the devil wants us to complete this study. I had to pray
constantly just to remember the library filing system up there. After
countless elevator rides and stairwells, and seemingly endless rows of
stacks I have only a few remote possibilities on bible interpretation in
video,” Pam begins, “—that’s it, nothing definite. I did a computer search
and found some possibly good articles in the Catholic theology journals,
LOGOS, Letter & Spirit and Concillium. I passed the titles onto
Garfield.”
“The stuff I found is the same, mediocre at best.” Father nods at the
few books under his arm. “Herman Wells is certainly not Catholic
focused, and not a premier theology library. It is not intended to be, of
course, but it is fully huge, and, as with all libraries, it is a treasure
begging to be explored. You never really know what you might find in
one of these places. Some of the foreign titles can be real gems if you
have the language skills to read them.”
Joe steps up, peeking over a wavering stack of seminal tomes barely
secured by his chin. “I have a copy of both of The Bible Code books at
least—they should be interesting reading, known criticisms of their
method notwithstanding—also two books on the Church Fathers, one on
the history of the neo-Patristic method; three each from St. Augustine, St.
Jerome, John Cardinal Newman and Pope Benedict XVI, including the
pope’s Jesus of Nazareth.
“Matthew Henry’s Bible Commentary shouldn’t hurt us either. They
don’t directly teach interpretation, but they do teach by example.”
“Outstanding,” Father replies. “At least we aren’t going away empty
handed. Let’s get checked out. We can still make it home in time to watch
the sky!”
“Not so fast, Copernicus. Garfield is still copying the journal articles.
He said he would meet us back at the Lilly rare book library,” Pam
advises.
“OK, Lilly it is then. Let’s get checked out.”
Father walks over to the checkout desk and places his books in front of
the attendant, who happens to be a heavy Satanist.
“Can I help you?” she says in a flagrantly rude tone.
Father looks up at the large “Checkout Here” sign just above her head
with an air of bemused cynicism. “Checking out,” he says a little too
courteously.
He casts out her demons silently in prayer. The attendant deflates like
a beach ball with the plug open, and smiles involuntarily at his kindness.
Receiving his books and computer receipt with a smile, Father blesses her
as he turns to go.
“God bless you, and have a joyous holiday season!” He means it. If
she doesn’t renounce Satanism and practice the Christian faith afterwards,
the demons will quickly return—but he did what he could.
They take the return walk briskly as exercise, electing to wait for
Garfield outside in the open air by the fountain. Pam wonders why she
keeps edging so far ahead of the men as they walk—that’s a first.
Garfield is not long after them, moving quickly in his enormous stride.
As he winds around to a meeting point of many paths he stumbles upon an
old friend from his undergraduate days coming the opposite way.
“Darren Mitchell! Is that you?”
Darren is visibly not well, completely buried under a satanic veneer.
Garfield stares down at Darren to see if his old friend is still in there.
Demons immediately rush out at him. Darren’s in serious spiritual trouble.
Garfield retreats to the kingdom of God in his heart, silently deferring to
St. Michael for help. After a moment of struggle, the negative force field
dissipates.
Unaware that he has roughly grasped his friend’s shoulders and nearly
stretched him beyond his natural height ,Garfield verbalizes his concern.
“You still in there, Darren? Hel-lo-o-o!”
“I’m still here,” Darren says, blinking and shaking off Garfield’s
mighty grasp.
“Well, don’t forget Jesus, Darren; he hasn’t forgotten you!
“Hey, it’s good to see you, roomdog. Merry Christmas, Darren if I
don’t see you before!”
“An early merry Christmas to you too, Garfield.”
Garfield prays for Darren’s deliverance. With Darren being one of
Garfield’s oldest dearest friends, Garfield’s charism for prayers of
deliverance is strongly invoked. Darren responds to the blessing with a
smile, temporarily freed from supernatural parasites.
“How long has it been, Garfield, nine or ten years anyway? Pop over
for turkey Thanksgiving; the wife would love to see you. We’ll find a
second bird somewhere,” Darren gests about Garfield’s appetite, though
fully intends to get one.
“Very funny,” Garfield replies, already visualizing the English feast.
Darren hands Garfield his card after scribbling a local number on the
back.
“Oxford library. Wow! You went home after all? Well done.”
“Aye. Near enough. Do stop by, Garfield. We’ll be at the bed and
breakfast at 7th and Grant through New Year’s. There’s a rare book
conference.”
“Fascinating,” Garfield responds, more interested in the breakfast than
the conference.
“Count on me being present. I’ll call you tomorrow night. I have to
catch up with the group. We’re filming the lunar blushing tonight,
Revelation 6:12-13, you know.”
Garfield says this with a wink. “What are the pagans calling it, old
boy? ‘Devil’s hangover’? No, seriously, really good to see you, Darren.
Really good.”
Garfield gives his friend a hug and starts off, praying to St. Mary that
Darren will find Jesus in time.
Remembering the constant hunger of their undergraduate days when
cash was scarce, Darren calls after him.
“Hey Garfield, I’ll have the wife check round the bakeries for you!”
“Thanks!”
“and, Garfield. . . I’ll not forget,” comes at the last moment, with a
strong twinge of emotion. Darren’s wife has been nudging him bit by bit
back towards Church for several years. Might as well just break down and
get it done.
Garfield is ecstatic that Darren has come home. He completes the
journey in no time. Arriving at Lilly breathless, he has an important
insight to share. “You know what is most important?”
The others have no time to answer.
“Finding the real person under the many satanic layers that can hide
them. We don’t have to condone or approve bad behavior, or to ignore a
demonic presence, but we do need to forgive the person. We have to
forgive, allowing the other person a new start, just as Christ has so
magnanimously forgiven us. If you look at the satanic veneer the devil
overlays people with, you won’t see any potential there at all, just an
eternally impenitent demonic obscenity. But as long as there is life there
is hope.”
“That’s a great insight, Garfield,” Father agrees, “often stated, but
seldom practiced. ‘To err is human, but to forgive is divine.’
“Nonetheless, forgiving has become very difficult in today’s coldhearted and hostile environment. Even as we forgive we must remember
that, in this last battle, some people remain dangerous; we should assist
them and pray for them, but from a safe distance. Prudence and common
sense uber alles.
“The demonic onslaught is now so intense that even prayer won’t do a
bit of good unless it originates in love; not in this late hour.
“To accomplish deliverance of our enemies and persecutors we will
have to follow Christ’s advice. We will have to become as little children,
emotionally—keep it simple. We care for people even if they have
mistakenly aligned themselves with the devil for the moment. They are
more his victim than his ally, in any case. God certainly did not intend this
fate for them, to be deceived and devoured by pure evil. It is God’s will
that all be saved, though he allows us freedom of choice in the matter.
“The most hardened Satanist can be saved though there be no visible
indications of it—all things are possible to God. Nonetheless, prudence
and strategy are called for in dealing with them until they come home. As
often as not, at least a spiritual safety distance will be required; stay out of
reach. In the worst cases, the safety distance may have to be physical as
well.”
Moving quickly across campus towards their parking spot downtown
the guinea pigs suffer another attack. They are forced onto the grass. Pam
assumes it’s the flu. Garfield ascribes it to their age. In any case, their
secret remains safe.
En route home the mood remains light; it has been an enjoyable day.
“Any other interesting encounters or discoveries to report?” Pam asks
as they casually cruise the pleasant countryside along Highway 52 having
passed through Indianapolis and headed northwest towards Lafayette.
“Well, y-e-e-s” Joe drawls in the tone of a guilty child. He’s not sure
they want to hear this.
“Well . . . ?” Father noncommittally prompts after a moment.
“I hate to mention it. The Antichrist is not the only major league spirit
that’s been surfacing in my prayers.”
“Let me guess,” Father jokes, “Frankenstein’s daughter or Dracula?
No wait, the mummy or perhaps the invisible man?” [the voice of Bud
Abbot again]
“No, Father . . . the abomination.”
Father’s expression leaves no doubt that he is not well pleased with the
social circles Joe has been moving in.
“You met the abomination that causes desolation?” [But Abbot]
“Well, we weren’t formally introduced, if that’s what you mean.
‘Encountered’ is a better word. ‘Attacked’ is best.
“The thing obstructed my prayer! I prayed for the demon’s removal
and got relief. When I resumed I was attacked again. This continued a few
cycles until I became upset at it profaning a sacred moment. Finally I
received a verbal response from this thing, pretending to be God,
accompanied by a heavy disgusting feeling. Its tentacles were all over me,
pushing and pulling at my chakras, you know, the major nerve centers.
All the alarms went off. I challenged it indirectly, praying for the test of
spirits. It took all the faith I could summon to resist being completely
taken over. I believe in this case my prayer did succeed.
“Led on by the Holy Spirit, I prayed the thing be placed under the
authority of Christ. I asked God that, if it be His will, the demon’s name
be given. I did not confront the demon directly. I never looked at the
demon in the spirit; I kept my attention on God. Nonetheless, God
permitted that I hear its response. It reluctantly gave up a single audible
word in the ugly guttural voice of a demon: ‘abomination.’
“The attacks diminished, but later recurred. I became so frustrated that,
as Clayton did, I fell back on St. Paul in Ephesians chapter six and drew
the Sword, the Sword of the Spirit or the Sword of Christ. The
abomination fell back. I felt the force field around me lessen, but then it
returned to its blasphemous interference. This one is apparently not going
away until it is fully time within God’s will, when its role in end times
events is complete. Hasn’t anyone else been having problems during
prayer, or at Mass?”
Father responds. “There are so many demons free now with the
apostasy and moral decline, and they don’t like us much. An instant
exorcism is the exception, you know.” He takes a moment to consider,
then adds thoughtfully, “The abomination that causes desolation . . . you
know it is possible…
“There is little chance of the rule of law going away. Therefore there is
no real chance for the lawless one or the abomination to come back into
the physical world in a big way, except in the smaller countries and the
totalitarian regimes, China, North Korea, the African warlords, South
American dictatorships and some of the former Soviet states. These
nations suffer under cruel regimes that violently persecute Christians to
this day. In some twenty nations around the world thousands of Christian
martyrs are being tortured and killed as we speak. If you haven’t signed
up for the Voice of the Martyrs newsletter at persecution.com, make a
point to do it. The Voice of the Martyrs team is the link the martyrs have
to the Church’s awareness and support. VOM staff have been attacked,
severely beaten and arrested in the process of getting the word out and
rendering aid.32
“The primary modern instance of the abomination must certainly be a
spirit, not a man. As a spirit, he can supernaturally coordinate the actions
of millions of willing or even unwilling human accomplices to subvert
Christ’s agenda while not having to stand up in the middle of church as a
human being and give offence openly, and subsequently to suffer an
unavoidable and visible defeat at the hands of our modern legal systems.
“A man or woman cannot get away with such crimes and blasphemies
as are ascribed to the abomination in the modern Church today in the free
world—not to a significant extent, and certainly not continuously for an
extended time, as Daniel 12 assigns to this event. Remember, the
abomination stands in the holy place, not in a position of secular
authority. Therefore, it must either be physically or spiritually in the
Church, interfering with those attending Mass, or other worship services,
or interfering in prayer offered elsewhere. Holiness is wherever God is, or
where prayer is being offered to God. This includes the Holy Sacraments.
One of those sacraments is marriage. Intensive sabotage by such a
powerful spirit certainly fits the high rate of divorce we have seen over
the past fifty or sixty years.
“The implication of 2 Thessalonians 2 is that the deceiver will be here
until it is killed by the manifestations of Christ’s return. If, following John
Cardinal Newman’s Advent Sermons on Antichrist, we assume the
abomination, the Antichrist, and the deceiver are the same, it becomes
clear that none of the earlier human candidates can be the deceiver or the
abomination. This is because they have not remained living until the
manifestations of Christ’s return could kill them as required by 2
Thessalonians 2. This assumes, of course, that they won’t be resurrected
by the devil as a dark miracle.
“One or more of the historical persons noted may have embodied the
abomination’s spirit for a time, being an instance of the same typological
theme, and one of them could be considered the primary embodied
instance. However, the final form of this thing is more likely to be a
demonic spirit. I’m going to pray about it . . . ”
Father Bernie offers a short prayer for discernment of spirits and
understanding of scripture. The others affirm.
Father deftly flips through his Bible. “Daniel chapter 11—according to
the footnotes, the abomination mentioned here has a concrete referent in
history: the statue of the Greek god Zeus placed in the Jewish temple by
the Seleucid emperor Antiochus IV Epiphanes. This occurred two
centuries before Christ. 2 Maccabees describes this event. Antiochus
himself, who persecuted God’s people in terrible ways, was the primary
actor in the event. The statue, however, more technically qualifies as the
abomination as it constitutes a false god being worshiped in the house of
the true God.33
“On the other hand, in Matthew 24:15, Christ refers to the abomination
in clearly a future tense. He warns his disciples and the readers of
scripture about what is to come later in the final days. The context of that
passage is Christ’s answer to his disciples’ inquiry about how they will
know when the end is near, what the signs of Christ’s return will be—his
second coming. Antiochus lived and died before Christ, so Christ is
clearly referring to something else. Consequently, we are not entitled to
dismiss the abomination as merely a past event.
“The footnotes at 2 Thessalonians 2:1-434 connect the deceiver of 2
Thessalonians 2 with the abomination references in Daniel 11:36-37.35
The description of the lawless one/deceiver presented at 2 Thessalonians 2
is verbally and conceptually identical to that of the abomination described
in Daniel. This establishes that the deceiver and the abomination are one
and the same thing, person, or entity.
“In this unified view of the three primary spirits, St. Michael restrains
the abomination/deceiver until it is time for it to be revealed. Once
revealed through the removal of that restraint, it is logical that the pure
unrestrained evil would manifest itself in truly abominable ways. Witness
the recent spate of senseless violence in the news, school and church
shootings, family members killing each other over trivialities, predation
on children, even cannibalism; it is clearly demonic. Thus, a similar
characteristic is established for identifying the presence of the demon that
is both the abomination of Daniel and the deceiver of 2 Thessalonians 2:
once unrestrained the spirit is palpably abominable.”
“I’d say that was a bit of an understatement,” Joe comments. “The
thing is intolerably abominable!”
“Here, here!” encourages Garfield.
“I’ll concede your correction,” Father agrees, “although I haven’t met
the thing myself—thanks be to God! I’ve no desire to, and as an exorcist
delegated the bishop’s authority, I guarantee you the meeting wouldn’t
last long.
“I think we can now see the logic of the scripture’s using three
different names to point to the same spirit. Only when it is unrestrained
is the deceiver free to act abominably in the holy places, thereby
becoming the abomination.
“This reveals the terms ‘Antichrist,’ ‘deceiver,’ and ‘abomination’ to
be more functional descriptions than formal names. In referencing them
by their function, God has not meant to individuate them as separate and
distinct beings. The mission of the Antichrist is essentially the same as the
deceiver’s after all, and the biblical descriptions of the abomination and
deceiver are identical. Much as John Cardinal Newman posited in his
famous Advent Sermons on Antichrist, we can confidently consider all
three essentially manifestations of the same entity, namely Satan.
“I suspect that most of the trouble caused by the
Antichrist/abomination will derive from this spiritual entity spreading
materialism and antireligious sentiments throughout society. John
Cardinal Newman tended to focus on the anticipated manifestation of this
evil spirit in the form of a man who would hold some key position of
world leadership from which he officially endorses the anti-Christian
worldview. But the ongoing dynamics associated with the biblical themes
of the Antichrist, deceiver, and abomination, are larger than any one man
and any single period of history.
“Going back to the theories about Antiochus or his statue of Zeus
being the abomination, one should note that the scripture gives two forms
of deliverance from the deceiver/abomination. They occur at clearly
different points in time. Therefore, we must be dealing with a recurring
theme and a spiritual entity, else the evil man must be resurrected. Though
theoretically possible, there is no biblical precedent for an evil
resurrection. The biblical resurrections were grounded in intense love, not
a desire to unleash evil on the world.
“In the first instance of deliverance from the abomination cited by
scripture, deliverance of the Hebrews from Antiochus’ profanations of the
temple, is provided by God afflicting Antiochus with a fatal illness, and
by the military defeat of Antiochus. Antiochus’ downfall then made
possible the removal of the statue of Zeus and the temple was purified for
proper worship of God.
“The second deliverance from the abomination cited in scripture is
effected by Christ himself in his second coming, or rather the
manifestations of it. Those manifestations deliver us from a (presumably
spiritual) form of the abomination described in 2 Thessalonians 2 as the
deceiver. The implication of a second occurrence of the abomination is
clear enough because neither Antiochus, long dead and gone, nor his
statue of Zeus, could pose a threat requiring Christ’s intervention via his
second coming. This continues the assumption that the three spirits, the
Antichrist, the abomination and the deceiver, are one and the same entity.
“Thus your assertion of a present appearance of a second instance of
the abomination is not obviously contrary to informed biblical
interpretation.”
“Um-hum,” comes from Joe at the wheel. “It’s as reasonable as
hypothesizing an outdoor toilet downwind from twenty yards. And
grounded in a similar olfactory experience.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute, all you theological geniuses,” Garfield
insists. “Keep your eyes on the road while I sort through my photocopies
for a moment.” Garfield alternatively fans, flips, probes, fingers and
separates the large stacks of articles on his lap and at his side. He finally
settles on an old issue of Biblical Archaeology Review.
“Here it is: the missing link. This article connects the spiritual form of
the abomination with Antiochus’ statue of Zeus. This is an article from
Biblical Archaeology Review, May/June 2006 called ‘Satan’s Throne.’36
“Satan’s Throne? That would be the outdoor toilet again, wouldn’t it?”
Clayton jests.
“That’s exactly what it is,” Father agrees.
Garfield continues. “In this article, the author reports that Saint Justin
identified worship of Zeus and the Greek gods with worship of Satan and
the demons. Introduction og Greek customs and the statue of Zeus into the
Hebrew temple was then tantamount to the introduction of devil worship.
It would appear that a primary satanic spirit was involved with the earlier
abomination then as well, in addition to the statue and the pagan cultural
practices that the Hebrews found so abominable.”
“Bravo Garfield! Rest assured there’ll be an extra brownie on your
plate for that one. I am planning a new journal article from this research—
still shooting for bishop, you know.” Father gives a slight twist of the
head towards Garfield to restrain any possible comment on the in pectore
list. “You might be interested to know that the term ‘Satan’s Throne’
actually occurs in the Bible at Revelation chapter two in pretty much the
same context. It might interest you to know that Revelation 2 also reveals
that the notorious prophetess Jezebel was deep into Satanism.”
Garfield smiles. Brownies revert him to his childhood. Having spent
many hours at the rectory working with Father on the secret journal, he
knows that vanilla ice cream is usually stocked as well. That only comes
out, however, when things are going especially well. He knows his man. A
second trip through these articles couldn’t hurt.
Clayton has developed a taste for Father’s brownies too. The
experimental shots have oddly increased his appetite and he is already
ravenously hungry. He also sees an opportunity for months of intensive
biblical research to pay off.
“Ahem. I have a scriptural reference that might go well with that
article Father, 1 Corinthians 10:19-21. This passage also connects idolatry
with the worship of demons, corroborating the assertion of St. Justin that
real demonic spirits had insinuated themselves into the practice of
worshiping the false Greek gods. It seems that the historical systems of
idolatry are likely to have involved more than mere superstitious
imagination, golden calves and totem poles. There is a note to John
Ryan’s translation of St. Augustine’s Confessions at book 1, chapter 17
that makes the same connection between fallen angels and Greek gods.”
“Job well done, Clayton. That snaps right into place.” Father lauds.
“But don’t be too surprised at your findings. All the ancient peoples at
times and in part at least occasionally fell into demon worship. Moses
indicted the Hebrews for doing it in his final speech at Deuteronomy 32. It
is a terrible thing, but for the fallen human race predisposed to sin, also a
terrible temptation. God will forgive it if we repent, but he is definitely
not pleased with it. As one of the gravest of mortal sins, demon worship
will send us to hell if we don’t repent it and renounce service to the devil.
Sorcery, same basic thing done from a slightly different angle. It is never
too late to seek God’s forgiveness, but it is also never too early to repent
such grievous sins.”
Following so much mental exertion, Father Bernie’s own hunger
pangs well at the last moment and it dawns on him that the appetites of
those coming to the rectory tonight for the lunar viewing aren’t exactly
normal. And that shot is messing with everything. I have never been this
hungry in my life. And after that enormous breakfast.
“I think I see where this is all going,” Father jokes. “Swing by the
grocery on the way into town, Joe. I’ll run in for another box or two of
brownie mix, and some vanilla ice cream.”
Smiles all around.
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
Arriving later than intended, they notice the blushing of the moon has
begun. Father Herman is waiting on the hood of his T-bird in front of the
rectory. “You’re late. I skipped dessert, expecting brownies. Have you no
conscience?”
Father Bernie laughs. “You’ll get your brownies, Father. Hold on a
minute.” The brownies turned out excellent, but the lunar blushing was a
bit of an anticlimax. From their vantage point the blood red turned out to
be more of a dirty brown. The event, however, was unmistakable. Joe
records it on video for Father’s permanent files.
Fortunately, Father Herman’s jokes saved the evening, and they all
had a great deal of fun.
“Did you hear about the Satanist who got lost in the woods?” Father
Herman begins.
“Is this going to be another joke, Father?” Pam challenges.
“Yes, it’s a joke, but did you hear it?”
“I have not.”
“OK, well, it seems an unfortunate Satanist had wandered far into the
woods and lost his way. He has hiked passed a den of bear cubs and an
angry mother Grizzly is now chasing him. The Satanist, middle aged and
fully out of shape, sees the bear gaining. He desperately appeals to God
for help. ‘God, could you please make me a Christian so the bear won’t
eat me?’ He was told that to be a Christian he would have to repent his
sins, be sorry for the things he’d done wrong, renounce evil and commit
to do good. He must ask forgiveness, accepting Christ as savior. He was
an evil man, not sorry, but merely crafty. He was trying to trick God into
helping him—so, he tried another approach. ‘God, could you just make
the bear a Christian?’ A sonorous voice from heaven then replied ‘It is
done.’ The bear immediately knelt to pray. Very much relieved, the
Satanist overheard the bear praying as he passed: ‘Father, please bless the
food I am about to receive.’ ”
More jokes followed. They laughed a long time until Father Herman
rose to bid everyone “Goodnight!”
***
Tuesday morning following Mass, the five of them met again for
coffee. All were exhausted, having been beaten up all night by demons.
“I hate to mention it . . . ” Joe begins.
Father sees the writing on the wall.
“Can it wait at least until the coffee arrives? I’m not ready to deal with
anything heavy yet this morning.”
“I don’t think so, the abomination that causes desolation attended
Mass with us Today!”
Jim, the waiter, a devout Baptist and their newest team member, has
just come over with the coffee. Startled by Joe’s comment, he
instinctively turns to Father Bernie. Still half asleep from the hypnotic
effect of the experimental shot, Father Bernie is already reaching absently
for his cup. The devil sees his chance. It doesn’t take much of a
supernatural shove for hand to meet tray with a little jerk at the last
moment and…they spill it all! Fortunately, no one is burned.
Now that is odd; something grabbed my arm! Father says a short
prayer of exorcism.
The embarrassed waiter leaves to replace their drinks as the custodian
is called over for cleanup.
“Now you’ve done it.” Clayton chuckles. “The four of us are persona
non grata in here.”
“Not likely, with the amount of business Garfield provides this place,”
Father muses.
“Grrrr . . . ” Garfield fumes affectionately. Jim returns with fresh coffee.
Father waits for the coffee to be placed, subconsciously reaching for
the cross around his neck, preempting another impulse to his arm that is
not his own. Father Bernie assures Jim that nothing really untoward is
going on; he will get a full report later tonight at the team meeting.
Jim places two heaping trays of complimentary, fresh from the oven
bear-claw pastries in the center of the table, relaying the manager’s
apologies for the spill.
“All my fault,” Father assures. “Don’t give it a second thought, Jim.
I’ll speak with Hugh before we leave.”
Hardly believing his good fortune, Garfield digs in.
“Those smell great!” Pam says, as exhausted as the rest.
Father tries one before responding to Joe’s new revelation, dipping it
into a steaming hazelnut mocha.
“Now, what was that you were saying? The abomination . . . ?’”
Father vigorously nods this comment with an incredulous expression.
His meaning is clear enough: this time a straitjacket will follow.
“Yes…attended Mass,” Joe matter-of-factly affirms. “The Satanists in
church were praying to it, if you can believe that—the whole thing was
disgusting! You know that chanting sound when everyone is in perfect
lockstep while reciting prayer. Some of that is not ours; it’s a satanic
chant. Some people are actually praying, if you can call it that, to Satan in
church at the same time that prayer is being offered to God. Demons are
involved in it! The evil is so close that it can be heard in the sound of their
voices.”37
“How can you be sure?” Father challenges only with his lips; his
intuition tells him he has heard the same thing.
“Spiritual perception—I prayed for the gift of discernment. One of our
Christian radio personalities recommended the gift of discernment some
time back in an e-mail concerning spiritual warfare. Of course, it didn’t
hurt that Father Herman, sitting in the back row, placed the demons under
the authority of Christ outright. He revealed the whole thing. He said the
monotone intonations we hear are usually just the devil pulling the voices
of otherwise good people who are trying not to clash and stay in step with
the cadence of the prayer, but in this case, we had some genuine Satanists
in Church. He said only the bishop or an exorcist could reliably tell the
difference.”
“Father Herman refuses to let the devil get away with anything; he’s
been fighting this battle for years. Father Herman is a designated exorcist.
As an exorcist, he can safely do these things. I’ve been appointed an
exorcist too, more recently, in response to the Vatican’s call for exorcists
in each diocese.38 I am forced to concede the possibility you address,
though one is loath to consider such an abomination. There is scriptural
precedent, however, Ezekiel 23:39: ‘On the very day they slew their
children for their idols, they entered my sanctuary to desecrate it. Thus
they acted within my house.’
“I’ll speak to Father Herman about this. In fact, I’ll invite him over to
a team meeting. He can give a presentation on St. Augustine, the Kingdom
of Heaven and the City of God, or one of his other books. He’s written
quite a few monographs on the saints and end times theology.
“I have good discernment too, you know. I’ve prayed for it—many
times. I probably have noticed such things. I suppose I’ve dismissed them
out of hand as too fantastic, or perhaps, from wanting not to believe it.
When you love and serve people so many years you come to expect more
from them—eternal optimism I guess.
“Couldn’t this be an elaborate ruse, the Antichrist or abomination
affecting people to give the impression such things are happening, when
in fact they are not?”
“It definitely could be a ruse,” Joe allows. “Anything’s possible when
it comes to supernatural deception—but that’s not what my gut is telling
me. Father Herman agrees. He said it usually is a ruse, but not in this
case.”
Father may be perfecting some of his other virtues, but honesty is not
one he has lacked. He reluctantly concedes. “That’s not what my gut is
telling me either . . . . The abomination that causes desolation . . .
logically, it does fit. A false god in church; it’s that simple. It’s a perfect
spiritual corollary to the previous profanation of the temple in 2
Maccabees 6, the Greek statue of Zeus. Garfield and Clayton, of course,
have now raised the possibility that more was involved even there.
“Since God’s people are now scattered around the world, one
abominable statue in a single temple would not suffice to profane
worship. This evil spirit is replicating the previous event theme on a much
larger scale. He has had the audacity to profane our church services,
bringing pagan Satanists in to revel in their abominations in the midst of
Christian prayer.
“This hypothesis of yours is not fully implausible, considering I’ve
been attacked by demons for eight years now without break. Whatever it
is that we’ve got on our hands here, it stands to be a major event on the
prophetic timeline. All I’ve got to say about the abomination appearing in
Church is it won’t be long now. That is the sign Christ himself gave to
indicate that he was close to returning, even standing at the gates.”
“Well, that’s an eye opener,” Jim says, leaning in to clear their plates.
Garfield rises to go. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’m due at the construction
site. By the way, there’s a pinball tournament coming up at Southern
Illinois University. Still time to register. Who’s in?” Garfield knows Joe is
one of the best players in the area; he won’t pass up a chance to challenge
the masters of the game.
“Count me in.” Joe says.
“What about the rest of you old-timers?” Garfield teases. “It’s easier
than tennis.”
“No thanks,” Father responds, smiling, “but I may come over to watch.
Joe invited me to go on a birding excursion sometime. I picked up a great
pair of 8 X 42 binoculars yesterday—fully coated lenses! Maybe we can
check out the area on the way home from the tournament. I’ve been
studying the new Peterson’s Field Guide to Eastern Birds. I can’t wait to
get out in the field! Something I wanted to do since I was a child.”
“Honestly, grown men chasing around after a bunch of silly little
birds—it’s so ridiculous! When do we start?” Pam loves doing anything
with these guys. “I’ll drag the boss along; Hugh and I are engaged now
you know.”
“Congratulations!” from everybody.
“Thanks, guys.” The group’s enthusiasm elicits a blush.
“I could use a vacation, myself,” Clayton agrees. “I’ll pack up the wife
and kids and we’ll find a nice bed and breakfast in the area, swing by to
see how the tournament is progressing, then join the caravan back for
birding. The kids enjoy nature as much as I do.”
“That sounds like a plan!” Father is in a hurry to get this pinned down
so he can put his new field guide to work. “Garfield, here’s my Visa, do
me a favor. Check on discount rates for hotels for the tournament visitors
and get us all a good discount if you can—good quality, though, nothing
cheap. Put Pam and her fiancée’s rooms on my card. It’s an engagement
present.”
“That’s very kind of you, Father.” Pam knows priests are not wealthy.
“You know, Hugh is almost as big a fan of your homilies as I am,” Pam
reveals.
“Make that adjoining suites, with room service,” Father instructs with
a smile.
“It’s being done,” Garfield confirms with military form throwing in a
Jack Black impersonation from Enemy of the State. The local drama club
would be hard pressed without these two guys. He pretends to make a
note on his napkin with the tip of his finger.
“Put your room on my tab also, Garfield. Merry Christmas!”
“Thanks.” Garfield pulls out a real pen.
As they rise to leave, Clayton’s wife, Margaret, comes in wearing a
startling fall ensemble, an original from Chicago’s best designer. It’s a
very limited issue called “Lady Scarlet.” Interestingly, the design is
named after the bird, scarlet tanager, not Scarlet O’Hara in Gone with the
Wind. Subtle and varied shades of lightly silvered green and yellow
closely correspond to the female of the species. They shimmer and blend
as Margaret moves towards them, effervescing new and more complex
hues and lines with each step.
“Wow!” comes from Clayton. “The dress came in!”
The Café’s patrons are visibly delighted. Often joining her husband in
the gym, Margaret has a physical beauty strong enough to carry the
elegant fashion. Her smile increases with each regal stride. Margaret’s
long hair is an especially rich shade of chestnut, but does not clash. This is
not so odd as Breminger designed the fashion with her in mind.
Occasional spears and splashes of faded chestnut appear at the curves,
offering a hint of the full fall partnership in nature, a hint that her
beautiful hair magnificently fulfills.
Clayton is already standing when she says, “Take me somewhere!”
“The ballgame?”
“No.”
He takes her arm, his mouth fully agape. “When did it come in?”
“Friday afternoon—I saved it.”
Clayton hears a snap of the fingers from behind. “Another suite
upgrade.”
“It’s being done.”
“That dress could have come from only one place. How in the world
did she swing an original from Breminger’s?” Pam wonders aloud, staring
at the visual magic moving towards the door.
“He saved the man’s life on the battlefield; that’s how she swung it.
Clayton was also a member of another team that rescued Breminger a year
later from a prisoner of war camp. Before all that happened, Breminger
did a tour as an Air Force pararescueman in Clayton’s squad.”
“His Medal of Honor! That’s the guy he saved, Rudolph
Breminger!!!?”
“That’s the guy.”
“He should have thrown in a tux.”
“Oh, he has one,” Father corrects. “I’m holding it. Clayton intends to
surprise Margaret when they renew wedding vows next year.
“In fact, Joe and I both have a tux from Breminger’s. He told us our
money is no good while he breathes on this earth. A friend of Clayton’s is
a friend of his. Breminger is a fascinating guy. I’ll introduce you
sometime.”
“I hate to beg.”
Father wraps the remaining pastry in a napkin as everyone stands to
leave for home. Jim slips up and hands them all a to go bag with more.
Hugh overheard the comment about the suite upgrade. He waves Father
Bernie off with a grand smile.
Falling behind with Joe as they exit, Father pumps his thumb between
his first two fingers near the opposite arm to remind Joe that tomorrow
morning is the second injection of the genetic experiment. The second
shot was described as giving people the most trouble; those in the group
ahead reported some real adverse reactions and side-effects. Father is a bit
worried, but Joe pats his wallet as if to say “money in the bank.”
They were not given a lot of detail about the goals of the experiment,
only that the Army hopes to reduce vulnerability to radiation and
chemical weapons. The unofficial scuttlebutt has it that they are really
trying to increase the human lifespan. As they all know, sometimes the
scuttlebutt is on target, and sometimes it is not.
As dusk settles in, Joe and Father Bernie retire early in anticipation of
another round of fainting spells.
Clayton, however, has forgotten the entire project. After spending the
rest of the morning browsing the art galleries and museums with his
elegant wife, further enhanced by fine dining in the evening, he is now
joyously gliding the most beautiful woman in the world around the dance
floor. The fairy tale continues long past midnight.
He’ll regret that bottle of expensive wine, tomorrow after the shot, but
it was a night to remember. Clayton drops off to sleep wondering the
same thing as Joe: how to explain the new sports car certain to appear in
the driveway after the next six months payment. He surprised his wife
with a Volvo station wagon tonight. Accepting delivery on the maxed-out
Toyota Spider will stretch his credibility beyond the breaking point. Their
wives still haven’t been told—waiting for the right moment.
The events of tomorrow, however, will obviate his concerns. There
will be no sports car.
CHAPTER 5
Our Father’s (War) Plan
Wednesday 2:00 P.M.
“Father Bernie speaking.”
“It’s Joe, Father. I feel like death warmed over.”
“I know, I’m on sick leave again today, myself,” Father replies from
the leather recliner next to his phone at home.
A series of beeps comes on the line.
“Hang on a minute, Joe. I’ve got another call. I’ll get right back to
you.”
“Father, this is Clayton . . . I . . . uh . . . ” Father hears the phone drop,
then something bigger. No further words are forthcoming. He clicks Joe
back on. “Joe, call your emergency contact. Tell them Clayton is in
trouble. I’m going over there.”
Running his Volkswagen through the gears in Grand Prix form, Father
cuts off his bishop at the first stoplight but doesn’t stop to apologize.
Bishop Karl was called in to cover Mass because of Bernie’s illness. He
just catches the Bishop’s enthusiastic wave and—“I hope you feel better!
Bishop Shasta” wafting out the car window. Some secret. He gives
himself no time to ponder the situation further. Sprinting the eight blocks
in record time, Father slides against the curb and exits in one motion,
leaving the car door open. Getting no answer at the bell, he knocks loudly,
announces himself, and then tries the door. Finding it unlocked, he looks
in. There’s Clayton sprawled on the floor near the phone in the dining
room! Blood is clearly in evidence.
“Clayton!”
Running over, Father immediately applies his Army first aid training.
A quick examination reveals that Clayton has banged his head on the
brass-shrouded foot of a table leg. Strong pulse, steady breathing: that’s
comforting. He bandages the head wound expertly, cutting strips and pad
from a towel, then pours a little cold water onto Clayton’s face. No
reaction—that’s not good. Well, they shouldn’t be long behind him. He’ll
get real medical attention soon enough.
Father stands and reads Margaret’s note on the refrigerator about being
out to the market. I hope they beat her home. If she finds out about this,
she’ll kill me. He remembers Clayton’s remark that Margaret did some
amateur boxing after college. He can see the headlines now: “Priest KO’d
by Enraged Wife.” Fortunate that he has tied up the episcopate.
A screeching of tires comes through the open door, then another, and a
third.
“Please God let it be the DOD.”
Joe enters first, followed by an Air Force officer in battle dress
uniform. Two enlisted men in hospital whites are next. The officer’s
sidearm goes unnoticed for the moment. No sign of Margaret.
“If adverse reactions are going to be the norm, we’ll need to get some
house keys made,” Joe suggests. “This is not going to be a walk in the
park.”
“Don’t bother with the keys just yet,” comes from behind. The Air
Force officer looks grim. “I’ll explain on the way to the clinic.”
Clayton moves a little.
“His back’s OK, sir. We’ll have him on a stretcher in a moment.” The
medics are all business.
“Good, we’ll wait in the car. Follow me,” the officer instructs. They
do. Twenty years of service don’t disappear overnight.
The ‘car’ turns out to be the sedan of an Air Force flag officer . . . and
the flags are flying. It is parked in front of a dark Chevy Suburban . . . no,
on closer inspection, two Suburbans, and plenty of occupants, all in
camouflage BDUs, short-barreled M-16s at the ready.
That was the first surprise. Several miles out of town, they get the
second.
“This looks more like an airport than a hospital,” Father observes.
“It’s an airport,” the driver confirms bluntly.
“Oh!” is all Father Bernie can manage. He knows there was no airport
here two weeks ago because he was out here looking for field birds at
sunrise on his day off.
Both Joe and Father Bernie notice the sense of urgency in these troops.
Experience tells them there is more to this than an adverse reaction to a
shot, even a Top Secret shot. They see hurried activity all over the tarmac:
planes taxiing and support equipment scurrying about. It’s almost like . . .
a military base—no, scratch that, of course it’s a military base. But it’s
more like . . . a forward operating base. The similarity strikes them all at
the same time.
Noting their alarm, the Air Force colonel reassures them. “We brought
in a mobile field hospital in that converted airliner ahead. After Clayton’s
debriefing the docs can check him more carefully. The rest of this is…,
well, its’ all Air Guard on annual training.” Gabriel’s instructions were to
tell them anything to get them on the plane.
“Field hospital . . . for one patient?”
Father knows that annual training traditionally happens in midsummer. But it can be scheduled at other times by exception. However,
that is typically done for individuals. There must be three of four whole
units out here.
He looks the colonel in the eye and doesn’t like what he sees. This guy
is BSing me.
There is a security corridor ahead: a ring of armed soldiers at a drive
through checkpoint. Off to the right a fleet of bulldozers is leveling
ground as if planes were coming in behind them.
“Training,” the colonel repeats.
The driver flips a wallet badge ID out the window, barely slowing as
they pass the security checkpoint.
As Father Bernie’s Suburban coasts to the gantry abutting the plane,
Clayton rolls past on a stretcher. He mumbles something incoherent and
waves his hand at the hectic flightline. Four medical technicians hustle
him on board.
“What did he say, Father?” Joe exits on the far side as the engines
begin warming up loudly.
Father shouts above the din, “It sounded like ‘Are you seeing what I’m
seeing?’”
“I didn’t catch it,” the colonel says. “Let’s go ask him.”
“I didn’t think we had an airport on this side of town,” Father remarks
as they find what they assume will be a brief seat on board the hospital
ship, already jammed with people.
“We don’t,” comes from behind. It’s Clayton, being laboriously
assisted by a groaning med-tech under each arm. He has bulked up to 260
pounds in the past year for local power-lifting competitions. The medtechs are happy to lower their lumpy burden into a seat opposite Joe and
Father.
“Mild concussion, he’ll make it,” the senior medical technician
reports. Clayton is way ahead of the others in his estimate of the situation.
Knowing he can blame it on the concussion, he risks a casual remark
to the colonel. Rubbing his head while staring vacantly into space, he calls
down the aisle. “I’ll take that drink now stewardess.”
This colonel, however, cannot be taken off guard. He’s heard it all.
Colonel Johnson smiles, surprising them in turn with, “I’ll see what I can
do.” Johnson fumbles through the storage compartments up front,
returning with a bottle of Jack Daniels from his personal gear. The inflight attendant provides plastic glasses all around. “I told you it was a
field hospital.”
The colonel pours one for Clayton, leaving him the bottle.
“We are off duty for at least another twelve hours. I’m in command of
this nonexistent unit. Consider this a prescription for everyone, moral and
religious convictions permitting.”
“Alcohol is not good for a concussion.” Joe checks the colonel’s
uniform insignia. “That’s a missile badge. You’re not a doctor.”
“No, I’m not, but my prescription is on the house. I’ll be up front for a
moment.”
“Game face” Clayton mutters weakly, taking a long sip despite Joe’s
contrary advice.
“What?”
“Game face . . . it’s what I was trying to tell you back there. These
guys have their game face on. They’ve been called to war. They are
executing an OpPlan, and in a hurry, and doing it pretty much in the dark.
They don’t know any more about what’s happening than we do.”
“What’s happening? What do you mean what’s happening? Is
something happening?”
“No, duh!”
“You mean they’re implementing a contingency response for adverse
medical reactions to these secret inoculations, right?” Father naively
suggests.
“No, Father, I mean an OpPlan. This is the real deal.”
Joe has an additional concern. “Did he say ‘we’ are off duty?”
“I think he did,” Father confirms. A washed out expression displaces
his natural confidence. The plane moves without warning. They fall in
behind a line of F-16 fighters taxiing to the main runway.
“Oh sh . . . !” Joe exclaims, catching himself too late. He starts to get
it. Looking out across the airfield, Joe sees a number of inbound planes
quickly traverse the recently installed temporary runway. There, another
just touching down. Man, he’s clearing in an awful hurry.
Joe turns to Father. “Adverse reactions my hind buttocks! We’re going
to war!” Joe reaches a plastic cup across the aisle to Clayton, who fills it.
Father takes that cup numbly, handing Joe an empty one in return.
The Air Force colonel returns to address their unspoken questions.
“Yours is not the only call we’ve received today.”
Looking out the window at the ever-increasing planes and helicopters
lining up, Joe leans over to whisper “This guy is a shoe-in for general.”
Clayton’s combat experience tells him the colonel is just warming up.
“What can you tell us?”
“The vaccines are contaminated—seriously.”
“That much I guessed,” Clayton confirms pointing to his bandaged
head.
“Sabotage?” Father speculates.
“We don’t know.”
“And . . . ” Joe prompts.
“And . . . there are more people in the program than you were led to
believe,” the colonel confesses.
Planes continue to arrive. Still at the window, Joe, notes with
increasing alarm an A-10 Warthog tank killer, F-117 Stealth Fighter, B-1
bomber, a C-130P rescue craft, Joint Strike Fighter, V-22 Osprey, F-15,
F-16, and a C-17 transport.
As an ancient B-52 lumbers in a security corridor springs up around it.
Joe reports his findings to the others. “Now I get it. We are flying patients
to the hospital in tank killers, in case of road rage. That makes perfect
sense—for the Army.” He elbows Father Bernie. Father does not take up
the gauntlet and insult the Air Force as custom would normally dictate.
He is far too alarmed by all this.
The colonel corrects Joe’s error.
“Actually, we are dispersing our inventory.”
Colonel Johnson is not insulted by what might otherwise pass for
disrespect in more routine matters. These men are all retired—civilians
for all intents and purposes. He respects Clayton’s combat experience,
having reviewed his military service record and decorations. He is
required under law to salute Clayton as a Medal of Honor recipient. Being
a devout Christian, he very much respects the priest. He’ll roll with their
punches until the shock wears off. The event being less than thirty-six
hours old, he is still wrestling to clear his own head.
Flipping back his eye lids, Clayton lisps “dispersing . . . our . . .
inventory” over a thick tongue with a comedic wide-eyed nod at all the
activity. He is trying not too successfully to impersonate the harried Mel
Gibson character, Jerry, from the movie Conspiracy Theory. “Gravy for
the brain” he laughs, tipping the glass. He’s on his third cup, but no one’s
counting at this point.
None of these men drink beyond moderation, but they are struggling to
fight the shock of being officially kidnapped into an ominous event of
terrible portent for which they have not the slightest explanation. It
doesn’t take a prophet to see that things are going to get worse before they
get better. Father is the only one who doesn’t crack a smile at Clayton’s
antics. He sees tragedy written all over this.
After lifting its nose to climb, the plane tilts to port revealing a line of
vehicles approaching the flightline below. This congeals into an
interminable snake as they watch, absorbing an increasing number of
buses and cargo trucks.
An AWACS pulls alongside to starboard.
Father is the first to comment. “This looks like a full activation:
Guard, Reserve…everything.”
Clayton goes further: “It looks like an evacuation to me.” The colonel
is silent.
“This might be a good time for a prayer,” Joe suggests.
Colonel Johnson surprises them by kneeling in the aisle to begin: “Our
Father in heaven . . . ”
Rising with the “Amen,” he heads forward. “I must confer with the
pilot.”
Joe is the first to speak the obvious. “Well Geraldo,” referring to
Clayton, “in your masterful interview of Colonel Johnson might there be
anything you forgot to ask?”
“Like what?” Clayton asks, numbly.
“Like where we are going?” Joe looks wistfully out the window at his
hometown fading away in the distance.
“And why?” Father adds.
It’s Clayton’s turn to gaze wistfully out the window. “Looks like our
wives are going dancing alone tonight.”
“Elizabeth should be getting her package just . . . about . . . ” Joe
checks his watch, and smiles “ . . . now!” Since the payments began for
the test program, Joe has made an exact science of studying both the
United Parcel Service and FedEx delivery routes in his neighborhood. The
gifts, arriving several times each week, are not extravagant. To his credit,
the larger portion of his extra income has gone to charity. But Joe allows
his family some reward for the risk he is taking with his health—and he
wants them to know they are well loved . . . just in case.
“What’s in it?” Father pretends to inquire. He knows full well that Joe
is baiting Clayton.
“Oh, something nice to wear . . . from Chicago.” Joe places the bait,
and then sits back, waiting.
Clayton isn’t long in taking it. “Chicago!”
“Yep.” Joe flashes an unmistakable Cheshire cat grin. “That
Breminger is the best!”
“You didn’t! I’m telling Father on you. Father, he’s a copy cat!”
Clayton pretends to be angry, waving his fists around like Fred Sanford.
Joe extends an arm to ward off a possible punch.
“It’s not the same color, shades of peach, orange pastels and light
yellows. It’ll be gorgeous. Just a hint of the oriental in the cut. Margaret
gave me permission. It’s called Summer Tanager. Now they can wow the
town together.”
“No question but they will.” Clayton’s facetious tantrum subsides. “I
can’t wait to see it, copycatting notwithstanding.”
“I hope we do see it,” Father worries aloud, as a fighter escort pulls up
off each wing.
As Colonel Johnson strides past to brief his troops in the rear, Father
Bernie takes the opportunity to probe for clues without pressing. “Are the
AWACS and the fighter escort coming with us?”
“They are, Father. I’ll keep you informed as the situation develops.”
“Thank you, Colonel.”
***
“Special delivery Mom . . . from Chicago,” four-year-old Julia
Scranton informs her mother.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Elizabeth says, hurrying to the door with the
cell phone for security.
“There’s fresh cheesecake in the freezer when your coloring’s done.
And, Julia, let Mom answer the door next time, will you, it’s not safe until
you are bigger, OK?”
“OK, Mom. Thanks!”
Julia gives her Mom a sideways hug on the way past. At age four,
she’s already a startling brunette soon to drive the boys crazy at school.
For now, though, she is content to snuggle comfortably under the arm of
her best friend and confidant—her mother, not in the slightest hurry for
adulthood.
Elizabeth turns to the delivery driver. “Breminger’s!”
“Are you Elizabeth?”
“Yes!”
“Sign here, please. Thank you.” He quickly hands her the box. “Did
you see the news?”
“I saw it.” She prefers not to think about it. Her family has been
through enough war. She struggles to grasp the wide package with her left
hand without dropping it. “This is awfully big.”
As the box slips, she looks back to the driver for assistance, but he’s
already gone. “Thank you, and may God bless,” she calls after him.
“God bless you too ma’am,” comes back.
She immediately removes the outer wrap, then the string around the
carefully cushioned box inside. The FedEx driver is in his truck before the
scream comes. A smaller one follows as Julia comes in and sees the
magnificent dress. Mom gets another hug.
Elizabeth carries the dress upstairs to the full-length bedroom mirror.
Dialing with her left hand, she holds the wildly effervescing fashion up to
the sunlight, which has a fantastic effect.
“Joe Scranton, please.” She holds . . . “He left work early?”
“Yes Ma’am”
“Is he coming back?”
“I don’t know, Ma’am. Just a moment, here’s the boss. Mr. Garger!”
“Steve, how are you? We missed you for Trivial Pursuit Friday night.”
“Better. A stomach bug of some kind,” Steve lies. “I’ll make the next
one. To what do I owe the honor of this call?”
“I’m looking for Joe. He’s in a lot of trouble,” she says, her voice
laughing.
“I see. Well, at the moment I’m looking for him too.” Steve doesn’t
say all he knows. He just had a phone call from his DOD contact. Steve’s
in the research program too, unbeknownst to the others. “Joe left in a
hurry about 2:30 and didn’t say where he was going. I need him rather
urgently myself. My computer died. He’s the only miracle worker I can
afford.”
“I can’t afford him! But I’m not complaining. Well, anyway, God
bless you and your computer. Ask him to call me the minute he comes
in.”
“You know I will, Elizabeth. Take care. Nice to talk to you.”
She twirls and glides down the hall, then back, then down the hall
again . . . . The dinner will be special tonight, she’ll see to that. Clayton
and Margaret will join them. Their children will baby-sit ours, then
dancing. Elizabeth quickly touches up the dress and hangs it with the
greatest care. She hurries downstairs to see to dinner. Noting her
enthusiasm, Julia decides to help . . . and they create a masterpiece.
Unfortunately, Dad will not get to eat it.
Two hours later, Margaret shows up with the kids, but without
Clayton. Then the news: DEFCON 2, followed by a Defense Emergency.
Later in the evening, an Air Defense Emergency is declared. Jargon and
acronyms! Why doesn’t someone just say what happened!
They had no idea what to do, or who to call—but this was no
coincidence. Their husbands were caught up in it somehow. They talked
the kids into avoiding the news with some difficulty, putting on Disney
movies instead. All stations were being preempted by Pentagon briefings.
Then Steve called. Then Steve came over. Elizabeth was immediately
in front of him, blocking his path.
“Where’s my husband, Steve? I don’t know how, but after twenty
years in the Air Force, I know you know something. Where’s my
husband?”
Sitting down, she begins to cry. Margaret consoles her, while barely
managing herself.
Steve can’t stand to see women or children cry.
“Elizabeth . . . I . . . uh”
He almost made a slip of the tongue. Saved by the doorbell! It’s
Garfield.
Steve’s relief is short-lived. Garfield’s four hundred twenty-five
pounds immediately backs him into the corner.
“OK, Chief Master Sergeant Steve, where are they? All the military
retirees have disappeared—except you!”
“I can’t tell you much. There’s a war on. Retirees have been
summoned back by an emergency act of Congress.” Boy, this is getting
tough in a hurry.
“Oh re . . . al . . . ly?”
Garfield leans down into Steve’s face, indicating that the obvious and
known won’t be nearly enough.
“Will they be here for dinner?” Elizabeth asks, knowing the answer.
“No,” is all she gets. Elizabeth has been through deployments before,
but not the very dangerous ones Margaret has had to wait out. She
decides. She’ll remain optimistic and calmly wait it out, like before.
“Let’s go in to eat. You two too.”
Elizabeth indicates Steve and Garfield.
“Steve, you can explain over dessert.”
She turns to shout up the stairs for the little ones. “Kids! Come down
for dinner.”
“Yippee!” comes back in a small feminine voice.
A moment later two of the cutest miniature people God ever made
carefully make their way down the stairs smiling, closely shepherded by
Clayton’s older ones: Jeanette and David.
“This better be good,” the little boy says to his sister. They were just
about to save the zoo animals that had escaped on the Disney computer
game.
“It will be. I helped to make it. Just wait ’til dessert!” Julia whispers in
her brother’s ear. “Where’s Dad?” she says, looking around.
Mom doesn’t hide anything from them. It’s better than their hearing
from another child, bluntly and out of context.
“Dad ’s gone on business again.”
David gives her a poignant look.
Joe’s six-year-old son, Jonathan, surprises them with his confidence.
“He’ll be back. He always comes back.”
“Mom?” Julia asks, her danger instincts alerted, but only at a
subconscious level. She doesn’t know what it all means.
“Yes, dear?”
“They’re fighting aren’t they? It came on TV.”
“Yes sweetheart, but it’ll be over soon. Let’s see how dinner turned
out, shall we?”
“Yippee!”
Elizabeth set a beautiful table, candles included, and the several
courses of gourmet creations were indeed perfect. Nonetheless, it was a
long time to dessert for the adults waiting for news, and also for Jonathan
who thought the ginger marinade on the salmon was a terrible mistake—
he is used to butter and lemon.
Steve braces to make the announcement. The adults visibly hold their
breath. Faces reveal the preparations they have made. Lips tighten, eyes
become moist, yet hopeful.
“Well, how’d you like it?” little Julia blurts to everyone’s delight,
preempting the awful tension. She is a precious little girl.
“The best meal I’ve eaten in my life!” Garfield effuses with complete
honesty. Their masterpiece has not gone unappreciated. He dips the
serving spoon into the persimmon pudding by way of corroboration. “This
pudding came out perfect!”
“Hurray!” Julia gives Mom a high five across the corner of the table,
smiling broadly at everyone.
“You kids run along upstairs and play, we have to do the dishes.”
“OK, Mom,” Jonathan agrees. His mind is already back in the game
room trying to figure out where a giraffe could possibly hide in the City
Park. “Mom, can you bring some more pudding to us up there?”
Now sister knows it was good; Jon doesn’t fake anything regarding
food.
Mom gives him a nod and a heart-warming smile. “No, problem, dear,
you run along and play.”
Garfield volunteers to deliver it. “It’ll be there before you find the
giraffe.” He knows what the kids have been up to.
David nudges the kids along. “Come on. Let’s help Goofy save the
zoo animals!” At sixteen, David already has some fatherly instincts. He’ll
make a good one. The younger children like David because he treats them
as equals. He isn’t rude like the other big kids.
Eleven-year-old Jeanette runs ahead to prepare the computer. Jonathan
jogs after her but little Julia slows and becomes serious as she passes
Garfield, who is one of her very favorite people. “I can count,” she
announces.
“Let’s see,” Garfield tests, holding out two enormous fingers.
“I can do more than that.” Julia responds, gathering her thoughts to be
sure—she’s been practicing. “Two fingers are for little kids.”
He puts out two more.
“One, two . . . three . . . four! See.” She has no doubt that she is right.
“Absolutely right!” Garfield says with surprise. “Great job!” He pats
her head softly, the gentlest of giants.
“Father Bernie is teaching me—mostly about God. He said God gave
me a wonderful gift, and I should learn to use it.”
“I’m sure he is right, Julia. Keep praying, and God will teach you.”
They hear music from the introduction to the Disney game coming
down the stairs.
“I think brother is starting without you.”
“Will you play it with us sometime, Garfield?” The kids have accepted
Garfield as one of themselves.
“Very next visit,” Garfield promises. “I like Disney too. Goofy is my
favorite.” Again, he is completely honest.
“Hurray!” She runs off to brother.
“Absolutely the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” Garfield confirms
everyone’s thoughts.
Elizabeth beams with pride.
Margaret is proud too. They’ve come through a lot. The kids have
turned out well, but she worries about invisible scars from Dad’s recurring
absence during the early years. She finds little evidence of it these days
and has come to believe the Lord has healed them and made them happy
again. Every prayer answered. The news broadcast from the Pentagon
blurt into her consciousness from the other room. Her hands go to her
face.
“Steve, I hate to put you on the spot. But we have to know something.
The news has everyone scared to death,” Elizabeth begins.
“We’re scared too, Elizabeth,” Steve surprisingly confesses. “This
situation is not normal. We don’t know what to expect.”
“Oh, God!” Margaret puts her hands to her face again, looking up in
prayer. All wait, giving her a moment, silently affirming. “Steve . . . ” she
takes another moment to recover, struggling to get the next words out
through the enemy’s unseen spiritual barriers. “I’ve been praying a lot
lately. God’s hand is in this.”
“It is,” Steve just manages. He is a tough guy, but he cries when God
blesses him. He reaches for his handkerchief. “I can’t tell you details, and
I honestly don’t know where they are. I haven’t been told. I’m still here
because of my prior personnel experience. I run the processing unit. Our
job is to get everyone else out.”
“Get everyone else out!” The language strikes Margaret as
incongruous.
“Deploy them. You know the routine, Margaret: arrange their
vaccinations and equipment, and send them to the right plane.”
“Steve, you said ‘get everyone else out,’ not ‘deploy.’ ” Margaret
reaffirms her challenge. She’s been through enough military crises to
know the language.
“Did I?”
Steve holds her gaze, his eyes twinkling enough to pass his message,
but not so much as would justify a court martial for revealing military
secrets. Last night’s security briefing does not permit him to say what is
happening in so many words.
After Drambuie and a Cuban cigar on the porch for the men, Elizabeth
escorts Steve to the door. “Steve, keep us informed, will you?” She averts
her face, not wanting to reveal the pleading that must be there.
Steve doesn’t have to see it, he knows. “Absolutely everything I’m
allowed to say. Just as soon as I know.”
“Thanks, Steve.”
“Oh, Elizabeth, will you do me a favor? Can I stash my gear in your
closet? I am afraid to let Susan see it. The news broadcasts have
frightened her. It’s not a deception, really, because my unit has no
intention of deploying me, but we are required to make these preparations.
If she sees the deployment bags, she’ll assume the worst, and nothing I
say will change her mind. It’s truly for the best, for her sake. Trust me.”
“If you think so, Steve. I’ll make some room.”
“Oh, great! I’ll be right back.”
Steve jogs to his car, retrieving two enormous canvas satchels from the
trunk. Despite the fact that he trains with Clayton at the gym, he labors to
get them to the door, where he is obliged to rest for a moment.
“Getting old, Steve?” Elizabeth chides.
“Yes” is all she gets. Steve groans as he picks up the bags. “Where do
you want them?”
“Here, in the foyer closet.” She strides across the white tiled squares,
gleaming beneath vaulted ceiling and brass candelabra, to swing the door
back.
Steve stacks them neatly to the rear with a sigh of relief. They might
need these, the little ‘dickenses.’ He dotes over Joe’s kids as if they were
his own. If worst comes to worst now, they’ll have what they need.
Steve ordered two Israeli children’s gas masks from the Internet and
added them to the water supplies, Nuke Protect radiation pills, freeze
dried food, and military issue adult gas masks stored in the bags. There is
a letter with instructions to the nearest, still secret, fallout shelter. He’ll
have to trust God to lead them to the bags. He truly wants to tell them to
be prepared now but he can’t say any more; he swore an oath. With any
luck, they’ll get a civil defense announcement in time.
“I’ll give you a daily update, Elizabeth. Not to worry, your Air Force
is awake.” Steve pecks her cheek and hurries off. He has a twelve-hour
shift to pull at the processing center tonight. Steve risks another
significant look back over his shoulder in the twilight. Elizabeth gets the
message: things are bad.
Elizabeth returns to the others. Garfield is just coming down with
empty pudding bowls. I can’t believe it. I actually found the giraffe! The
giraffe was the last. All are now safely recovered. Mickey and Goofy are
fully ecstatic over their success, as are the kids, who are all cheering
Garfield loudly. This is not only for saving the zoo animals but because he
has promised to bring up sodas and negotiate with Elizabeth and Margaret
for popcorn and an extra hour or two of extended play time.
“Permission granted, Garfield. Go for it!” he is informed by the
women. The ladies collapse into chairs and stare blankly at each other,
ignoring the by now ubiquitous maps of the Middle East on the TV.
Elizabeth clicks it off.
Margaret extracts one of the Cuban cigars normally reserved for the
men from the ornate silver humidor Elizabeth has offered, a gift from
Rudolph Breminger. Elizabeth leans over to light it, warning Margaret to
beware ashes falling on the priceless fashion she is wearing. The blunted
oversized stogie is a fashion accouterment even Breminger had not
anticipated. Retrieving one for herself, she puffs expertly after cracking
the windows open, enjoying the soothing effect, then replenishes the
liqueur.
“Are you smoking, Mom?” Jeanette accuses loudly from upstairs.
“Just this once, Jeanie. This war thing is hard to deal with. It won’t
happen again.”
“It better not!”
“Your daughter looks after your health I see,” Elizabeth says smiling.
“She thinks I’m old already. Hah!”
Emotional torpor is momentarily assuaged by the expensive
stimulants. But they soon fall back into the chairs and resume staring
blankly around the room, stunned beyond any avoidance.
“Just too much, too fast” Margaret sighs, collapsing further into the
comfort of Joe’s favorite brown leather recliner.
After a moment, Elizabeth makes an effort to reclaim her focus.
“We should stay informed.”
She punches the remote to bring back the news.
“I’ll get coffee and start the kids’ popcorn. It’ll take four bags for that
crew in there, or I’m no military spouse. Turn up the volume, Maggie. I’ll
listen from the kitchen.”
The first announcement has her leaning over the counter that divides
the kitchen from the living area on one side and the formal dining room
on the other.
“Not since the ’73 Arab-Israeli war and the Cuban missile crisis have
the nation’s strategic forces reached this level of alert . . . ”
“If that was our last meal, Elizabeth, I want you to know it was a darn
good one,” Margaret calls into the kitchen.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.
“Julia wants to be a chef, now. She doesn’t know it is a male
dominated niche. Isn’t that the oddest thing to have happened, men
dominating cooking?”
“Very strange.”
“Well, they don’t dominate it here. Although, in all fairness, Joe’s
charcoal-grilled burgers are to die for. More pudding?”
“Please.”
***
At the White House, the President calls his aide into the Oval Office,
meeting him at the door. “Number one: battle dress uniforms, medium
starch, enough for three weeks, followed by pizza, lots of nice lovely
pizza. Keep it all coming until told otherwise. We’ve got a situation here.
Sodas, coffee, Sobe Tsunamis if you can find them…brain food,
brownies, nut bread, whatever.
“Orange cream and coconut Tsunamis,” the Chief of Staff leans
around the President from behind.
The President pushes him back and continues. “Add a dozen aides to
White House staff on a ninety-day order; four more computer clerks; a
field grade war planner from each service; logistics technicians; and some
sane operations planners from the intelligence agencies. Let them pull
double duty if necessary, but I want six hours of their time seven days a
week until this is over.
“Also, round up the guys I used to work with in the Pentagon. Check
my duty history for the unit and the dates. Ask Headquarters USAF to run
a query. Give those names to Chairman Wiles. He’ll reassign them to me.
I’m building an operations planning and evaluation team right here in the
Whitehouse for my end of Gabriel. See to it.”
“Gabriel, sir? That’s a new one. What do I need to know about it?”
“Just the name, Bob. Just the name. I can’t smell the pizza . . . ”
“Out the door, Mr. President.” Bob turns to the Secretary’s desk, but
she is way ahead of him, already on the phone to the kitchen. “Lots of
nice lovely pizza . . . ” he hears.
“Bob,” she calls after him, “you had better call downtown too. We
won’t want to fall short on this. The boss is talking about putting a major
operations center in there, 24-7.”
“OK, Betty. I’ll take care of it right away.”
The President then turns to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of the
military services.
“General Wiles?”
“Yes, Mr. President?”
“Get somebody from your black operations team at the Pentagon in
here to brief me on Project Gabriel. Roscoco, if he’s available.” The
President looks out across the Potomac. ‘Be shrewd as serpents and
simple as doves’ . . . I never dreamed that acts of faith could . . .
“When do you want him here, Mr. President?” the Chairman of the
Joint Chiefs asks.
“Yesterday.”
The general nods to his aide who steps down to the secure
communications facility in the basement. He’s back in fifteen minutes.
“Roscoco will be here within twenty minutes. Here’s a classified disk
with the briefing notes.”
“Let me have it.”
Feeling a blessing, the President smiles returning to his desk. This
whole Gabriel thing seems to be in the hands of God—literally!
“You’ll need a special machine for that, sir,” the aide reminds him.
“I’ll use yours, Chairman, if you don’t mind.” President Lewis takes off
his jacket and roles up his sleeves. If I ever get anything right, it has to be
this. . . .focus!
“Yes sir, Mr. President.”
General Wiles places his Project Gabriel laptop on the President’s
desk, and opens the classified software.
“Just double click the file named ‘Messenger’ on the desktop. It’s
ready to go.”
“Thank you, Ken.” And whose side are you on? How can you be sure
of anyone in this demonic surge? He begins to review the briefing notes.
Fully automated combat decision support system—It’ll take God to make
this work!
After a few moments “Major Roscoco’s here, sir,” comes over the
intercom.
“I’ll come out to get him,” the President advises. He is up and across
the room in an instant.
“Good afternoon, Mr. President!” the major says formally, greeting his
old friend with a supported handshake that quickly turns into a hug.
“Hello, Gene,” the President says, releasing his hand and putting his
left arm around Gene’s shoulders as they pivot toward the desk to address
the daunting task at hand. “Skip the formalities, Gene. Assume a fieldworking environment until this idiocy is over. Let’s get this done. Our
school children think we are competent enough to keep them safe.”
“Right, Monty.” They march through the Oval Office quick time in
military cadence.
“Gene and Walt Books are the only two guys I allow to call me
Monty,” the President informs the room. “They know exactly where the
skeletons are buried, where I’ve been and what I’ve done . . . well, not all
of it.”
The Chief of Staff smiles. Always laugh at the boss’s jokes: rule
number one.
It is true that the President’s background in Air Force war plans and
CIA operations matches Gene’s nearly to the assignment.
“You’re on my staff, Gene, until this is over—effective immediately.”
He nods to the general. “Make it happen.”
“Yes sir, Mr. President.”
General Wiles nods to his aide, who picks up a secure cell phone.
“Walt, Captain Deter. I’m at the White House. TDA Major Roscoco to
the President’s staff—effective immediately. Mark the order Top Secret.
Mask key information with false data. Understood?”
“False data is what we do best, here, sir,” Sgt. Books says smiling.
“My typewriter seems especially designed for it.”
Answering the phone at his relatively new and fully unknown office in
the Pentagon, Technical Sergeant Walter Books speaks through the smile
his staff has come to believe has been surgically implanted. Walt, of
course, was alluding to his poor typing ability, not to a cryptography
machine.
No clerk-typists have arrived to support his office because of the
extraordinary background checks required to work Project Gabriel. Walt
is a good man to have in a tight spot, fully reliable; but secretary of the
month he is not. His rapid hunt and peck style has produced an error rate
already legendary in the Pentagon.
The incessant smile returns. Walt has been this way since the night of
the angelic trumpet call three years ago, the night he received a prophetic
revelation of his own death. An urgent call like this from the President’s
staff is enough to remind him of what project Gabriel is really about.
Though the black operations staff at the Pentagon has been in disarray
since the unexpected crisis developed—they are still scrambling to catch
up—Walt’s faith has held him up well. He actually seems happy about all
of this. Slaphappy, the staff suspects. They are exhausted to the point of
failure by the extra workload and extended hours. A normal office would
have laid on temporary help by now to alleviate the strain, but temp
personnel would not know how to use the new machine and they would
not have the extraordinary security clearance required to access its data.
“I’ll fax the order to you in five minutes, Captain,” Walt guarantees.
Walt turns to his trusted senior assistant, Sgt. Donald Strickland,
another good man lacking basic typing skills.
“Put Roscoco on a temporary duty assignment to the White House,
Don—do it now. Make something up for the code word and have him
report to the national security advisor. I’ll sign it, and fax it right back to
them. Don’t waste time on the bureaucratic details. Nobody cares. Fill in
the entire order with asterisks if you have to, fictionalize the key stuff. Do
it your own way, but I want that order in my hands in five minutes—
understood?”
“Consider it done, Walt.” Don has already turned to his keyboard.
“When it’s done go down to the lounge and get some rest and a
shower. We’ll worry about ‘adminisitrivia’ later.”
Walt twists his mouth in disgust, glaring at stacks upon stacks of nonessential paperwork piled up on their desks.
“Come back when you’re rested, Don, but no later than midnight.
Then I’ll do the same. We’ll make a proper shift schedule tomorrow and
be human again.”
“That’ll be nice, Walt.” Don nods his affirmation as he types. Don
knows about the revelation. It has placed a heavy burden on the two of
them. For this reason, and out of great personal respect, Technical Sgt.
Books has ignored protocol, putting Sgt. Strickland on a first name basis.
The President’s aide, Bob, has returned to speak with Betty at the front
desk of the Oval office after placing the call to HQ about the President’s
team-building requirements. “Twelve OpCenter folks inbound overnight,
Betty. They can each bring two aides. Make spaces for forty and warn the
kitchen.”
Betty picks up the phone as Bob runs off smartly for the President’s
uniforms. Bob may be the youngest, but he is not the fastest one in the
hallway.
The National Security Adviser, an athletic young lady with two PhDs,
who got caught by the emergency jogging around the White House
grounds, sprints past him headed the opposite way. Joshua Jackson, now
the oldest Vice President in history, is trailing her with an “I was never
that young” look on his face.
“Send it all to the airborne command post!” Jackson gasps towards
Betty. He barks further orders into the collar microphone of his beltmounted radio. Secret Service has the President’s door open before they
get there. They all burst in unannounced, the Vice President leaning in to
give the news.
“On the plane, Mr. President. An element from the Pentagon’s
OpCenter is already onboard. Bring the ‘football.’ CIA, CENTAF and
Space Command will brief you en route.”
Secret Service are everywhere, some in suits, some in combat fatigues,
and still others in jeans and t-shirts. Uzis, Berettas, shotguns, and Sig
Sauer 223 pistols dominate the scene as one would imagine they might at
a Pierre Cardin fashion premier at a drug cartel. “We’re recommending
DEFCON 1.”
“Gene goes with us,” the President orders. “He’s the only one who can
make these darn computers work.” The President winks at Roscoco. Gene
performs a sign of the cross in return.
“Let’s go Gene, follow me and stay close.”
They sprint to the front of the group.
“For delivery,” the President smiles back at his forlorn secretary. She
is frantically waving as if they were her own sons shipping out to Europe
for WWII. Her tears will have to stand in for those of their families for
now.
Arriving at Andrews Air Force Base by helicopter fifteen minutes
later, an impressive parade of pizza warmers follows them to the gantry of
the new prototype airborne command post they have opted to use in lieu
of the older Air Force One. Much of this pizza is gourmet commercial,
but even the stuff from the White House kitchen is delectably aromatic. It
seems that Bob wants to be Chief of Staff someday. He pulled rank, using
the President’s name to divert pizzas coming out of the ovens downtown.
In the spirit of patriotism, the D.C. shops agreed to make their customers
wait until the next round. The gate at Andrews was notified to have a
pickup standing by to transfer it all to the flightline.
“Write the drivers a blank check and let’s get out of here,” the
President’s security chief orders. “Twenty dollar tips plus reimbursement
for the insulated pouches. Let them do the math. Sign the checks and
leave the book. Let’s go!”
As the executive command post lifts off for a yet to be determined
location, the civilians onboard realize they have passed a point of decision
from which there is no returning. A solid wall of stress confronts them.
The Vice President sees it; he’s been there a few times. He’ll have to
lighten the mood. The staff and crew will be looking to the executives to
set the tone. Decades of service as a pastor have honed Jackson’s
supportive instincts, which inevitably surface when things get especially
tough. He peeks inside a pizza warmer. “Hey! It’s Dominos! Not bad!
Double pepperoni on this one. Come and get it!”
Jackson holds up steaming boxes for the military in-flight attendants
as a reminder that all is not lost. Having been through hell and back a few
times in the civil rights wars, he has no trouble telling the difference
between a merely tense moment and a bonafide tragedy. He decides that it
is going to take one of his patented Democrat-Republican jokes to
properly break the tension.
“Lighten up people. Just consider yourself lucky you are not flying
with a conventional administration, Republican or Democrat. They will
never admit a mistake, you know. I knew a party chairman with a PhD
once; I won’t say which party. He went into a tack and harness shop to get
some shoes for his horse. They happened to have a reenactment of a
traditional blacksmith shop in this one, one that actually functioned. The
smithy had just pulled a couple newly hammered shoes out of the fire and
placed them on a steel shelf to cool.
“Seeing a Monty Lewis Christian-Catholic Independent Party banner
on the wall, the ‘doctor’ immediately began to criticize the smithy’s work
and the quality of the leather tack and gear displayed for sale on the most
trivial of points. So engrossed had he become in proving his superiority
over the fledgling Christian party that he momentarily forgot his purpose.
“Embarrassed by drawing a blank to the clerk’s challenge of why he
had come into the store, a recollection of his purpose finally returned. He
arrogantly snatched up the freshly tempered horseshoes from the shelf,
intending to place them at the checkout desk. He immediately, of course,
threw them down onto the floor instead.
“ ‘Burn yourself?’ the clerk asked with a wry smile. ‘No, I did not
burn myself,’ the arrogant politician insisted, his eyes already tearing
from the pain. ‘It just doesn’t take me long to look at a horseshoe!’ ”
Many of the President’s staff are slaphappy enough to smile past the
nervousness even at such a lame attempt at humor; they’ve been putting in
more hours than the Pentagon. All onboard, military and civilian, have
something in common with the rest of the nation: they love the
distinguished VP like their own father. And they know from experience
that, as in most homes, if they don’t laugh at “Dad’s” first joke, additional
puns will follow. So they laugh.
After the mandatory situation report, and a quick slice of pizza, they
all have half a further moment to relax. More extensive briefings will
follow when the still breaking information is better organized. Some look
out the window. Each staff member is reaching to the limits of his or her
own favorite stress management techniques. The civilians are all having
the same success with these techniques: none. The military fare somewhat
better. They assume that if no one is shooting at you, it is a good day—a
simple but effective approach.
“Bill?” The President indicates his Chief of Staff, William Katz. “Yes,
Mr. President?” Bill mumbles this, relishing his first warm bite. He got
caught setting up the second round of briefings when the pizza was passed
out. As a result, he was left with veggie lovers. It has flavor enough, but
no staying power.
Bill signals the sergeant to leave the box. If he can’t trade Jackson out
of some double pepperoni later, he’ll turn in his Toastmasters card. He
knows the VP. He will have squirreled a few pieces away for later in the
evening. He’ll simply remind Josh that his doctor-supervised regimen has
firm dietary restrictions, cholesterol limits, and that vitamin C, like in
these veggies for example, regulates cholesterol naturally. Next he’ll
make a forceful play to Josh’s family obligations, commitments to the
nation, and so on. Prudence after all, is a Christian virtue. That pepperoni
will ultimately be his.
“What are those two large planes to starboard slightly leading us, Bill?
They weren’t in the game plan we practiced for the emergency egress op
plan,” President Lewis challenges.
Bill squints out the window. He’s near-sighted and has put away his
glasses to eat. “Special Ops I’d say, Mr. President. C-130 gunship class . .
. possibly tactical command and control birds, or maybe rescue. I don’t
actually know. This is something ad hoc they just threw in at the last
moment. They must coincidentally be going where we’re going on the
inventory dispersement.”
Bill glances over at General Wiles who looks to his defensive systems
technician, then nods confirmation to the President. “Not a threat, Bill,”
the General confirms.
“I see, and that small one over there, climbing towards us from
astern?”
“Astern!” General Wiles again turns to the defensive systems operator,
this time with alarm, already knowing there are to be no planes climbing
on the President’s command post from astern.
Alarms sound.
“Missile alert, Mr. President. We’re under fire!”
This comes from the defensive systems technician.
The nearest gunship banks sharply, coming quickly between the
President’s plane and the threat. It deploys an amazing spread of decoys,
providing the missiles several false targets. Two bright streaks zoom past
in the next moment, followed by booms and flashes.
The President’s plane dives to avoid debris.
General Wiles flips a toggle switch and nods. The defensive technician
speaks through the PA system. “They missed us, Mr. President. Two
exploded behind and two others pulled off course. Two got past the C130s’ decoys but had lost track on us by then. They’re out there flying
wild. We’ve turned away from them, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Thanks be to God!” the President begins to say, but his Chief of Staff
has already shouted it so loud it bleeds into the PA system, evoking mixed
reactions of giggles or sympathetic relief.
Boom! The makeshift enemy fighter that had been hugging the ground
under radar disintegrates as the President’s fighter escort places fully four
air-to-air missiles into it at nearly the same moment.
The President quickly renders an Our Father, Hail Mary, and Glory
Be.
Jackson is at the President’s side before his head comes back up with
the “Amen,” a hand on his shoulder.
“If it starts like this, Monty, how will it end?”
The President looks across at the open briefcase on the Vice
President’s seat, noting the presence of the Bible, always prominent
among its contents.
“Intel doesn’t have a clear line on this thing yet, Josh. We’re still in
God’s hands. You know the Almighty’s play book as well as I do,
Reverend.”
“I think I’ll just go double check it to be sure.”
“You do that, Josh . . . and . . . if the Coach should send in a change . .
. tackle me if you have to, but make sure we stay in touch with God on
this.”
“Be careful what you ask for Monty, you’re forgetting, I played pretty
well in college.”
“I’d forgotten that; but I’d rather be tackled by you than by Him.”
President Lewis looks affectionately up to heaven. “Do we have a secure
line to the pope?”
“Not yet. The Vatican wouldn’t opt in on Gabriel because it is a
combat support system, and would violate neutrality. The discussion of
alternatives has now been overcome by events.”
“Understood. Let’s get one, just the same. Tell Gene to work
something out.”
“I’ll see to it immediately.”
***
Colonel Johnson comes back from the cockpit with some small
printouts in his hand. “You’re activation orders are in.” He hands Joe,
Clayton, and Father Bernie each a slip of paper.
“You are recalled to active duty, effective three days ago. You’ll find
the first installment of your back pay there in the cupboard next to the
glasses. Seriously, though, you should sit down at the terminal up front
and use the Defense Accounting System Internet portal to assign your
automatic deposit. Then your families won’t be left without means. Do
that while you can. Something could occur to disrupt electronic data flow.
“Oh, congratulations, Father Bernie, you’re promoted to full colonel.
Army Reserve Personnel Center gave you credit for additional
professional experience since retirement. You’re assigned as installation
Chaplain, Detachment 7, Pentagon.”
“Detachment 7. Where is that?”
“Classified. Top-Secret. Current location unknown. They are moving
on the dispersement logarithm, as are we. Your orders are stamped ‘Top
Secret,’ by the way, and that’s what it means. Not to worry, when the dust
settles and they report in we’ll get you there.”
“Understood, Colonel. Where are they going?” Father Bernie nods to
Joe and Clayton.
“Their assignments are still pending. They could come through
anytime. Both have combat or combat support skills. Let’s see . . .
pararescue, and . . . munitions.”
Turning to Joe, the colonel says, “I commanded an ammo squadron
once, Okinawa Japan. Very interesting people, Ammo. Their propensity
for hard drinking aside, you can depend on Ammo to be there when you
need them. Their esprit de corps rivals that of the Marines.”
“Right again.”
“How long will we be in the air, Colonel?” Father asks.
“Last report we were headed across the big pond. I’d guess another ten
to thirteen hours. But that could change. I’m not sure they have decided
where to set us down. They put key assets into the air quickly to get them
off the ground where they were vulnerable to attack.
Resources of secondary importance have been hastily dispersed to
random locations on the ground. If Russia launches a full spread of
missiles . . . ”
“Why would she!?” comes from the retirees involuntarily. They
haven’t heard.
“Apparently, Israeli intelligence came up with satellite confirmation of
a nuclear strike in the offing, launch preparations in both Iran and Syria.
Russian-made mobile strategic missile launchers newly placed at key air
bases within the past six months confirmed in both countries. Those
particular launchers only shoot nukes.
“To make matters worse, Russian armor showed up on satellite as a
dark wave moving steadily south along both sides of the Caspian Sea
through Azerbaijan and Turkmenistan: 5,000 frontline battle tanks,
another 15,000 older models, double that in infantry support and logistic
vehicles. All the former Soviet republics and several Arab states have
pitched in everything they’ve got. It’s like flood waters draining off the
desert. The separate streams are converging now into a flood aimed
directly at Israel.
“The Russian Foreign Minister incredibly described it as a massive
arms deal done in conjunction with a regional military exercise. CIA says,
no way—the Russian drivers are staying with those vehicles when they
arrive. Incredibly, another roughly equivalent force seems to be massing
inside Russia to form a second wave.
“Russian military air traffic into Iran and Syria has been ‘maxed out’
for ninety days. Both countries are rapidly expanding airport capacity.
Russia has spent an enormous amount on these force movements, more
than she can plausibly afford for training.
“There is no regional provocation out there to justify such an effort.
Well-placed human intelligence sources say Russia intends to quickly roll
over the very northern edge of the new democracy in Iraq, flaunting the
Turkish border. She plans to duck across the border either way should
Turkey or Iraq move separately against her forces, claiming immunity.
She is counting on political maneuvers to initially preclude both nations
acting in concert against her. Our State Department is working towards
the contrary result as we speak.
“Russia then plans to move her force west to the northern border of
Israel, having obtained free passage through Syria. The United States has
mutual defense agreements with both Turkey and Iraq, but Russia is
depending upon an indecisive Congress slowing down the President until
it is too late and Israel has been overrun.
“As it turns out, Monty Lewis isn’t waiting for Congress or anyone
else. U.S. forces are already moving in response. You are part of that
response.
“One really cannot blame Israel for this. Combined with the placement
of the nuclear missile launchers, the massive armored incursion adds up to
a first strike. Foreign intelligence reports concur. In the grand tradition of
the six-day war of 1967, Israel was forced to act for her own preservation,
and she did. Three tactical nuclear detonations are confirmed: two in Iran,
one in Syria. Key air bases. The launcher threat is gone, but we are now at
DEFCON 1 awaiting Russia’s response. The wave of armor has been
stalled: rugged terrain, mechanical breakdowns, and a few giant
demolition bombs the Israelis were good enough to place along the
convoy route.”
“What are our allies doing?”
“Britain, Australia, Mexico, and Canada all came down with both feet
on the side of President Lewis and the good old USA: firm. They have
done themselves proud. They already have substantial forces moving to
the defense of Israel.”
“And the others?”
“The usual. Most of them talking out of both sides of their mouth,
afraid to commit. But they are talking noticeably faster than normal. Their
heads are spinning. They don’t know what to think. They can’t afford to
let the entire oil reserves of the Middle East fall into hostile hands; but
neither do they wish to lock in by preemptive strike so massive a conflict
that has yet to be confirmed as a certain hostile action.
President Lewis flat out told them ‘Make a high level decision or get
out of the Executive Washroom.’”
“What do you think will happen next?”
“Unofficially?”
“Unofficially.”
“I don’t think Israel is through violating ‘neutral zone treaty,’ as
Spock’s brother says in Star Trek V.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, they are outnumbered; they always have been. They have
to do something to offset that disadvantage. Historically, they have done
this with bold and decisive action, preemptive strikes that go to the heart
of the threat. This means that tactically, once their enemies are deemed to
be moving against them, they must do the same things we do. They’ll take
out the missile and the air threats first and then destroy the enemy
command and control capability. The enemy, although many times their
numbers, will then be disorganized, incapable of coordinated action, and
vulnerable to attack from the air.
“Once Israel gains control of the regional skies it will be the six-day
war all over again, writ large—that is until Russia puts the full weight of
her airpower into the battle. Until that happens, aggressor forces will be
weakened or eliminated via Israeli air strikes before they reach the
primary battlefield, that is, before they cross into Israel.”
“So you anticipate Israel launching a second strike against regional
command and control centers?”
“It is the logical thing to do.”
“And if you are Russia in this situation, what do you do now, Israel
having called your bluff?”
“The smart play would be to disavow the evidence and plead innocent:
not follow through with further aggression. Turn the tanks around and
loudly proclaim that the training maneuvers were a complete success.
Then accuse Israel of heinous war crimes and paranoia. But, personally,
and I am taking a biblical perspective at this point, I don’t think Russian
leadership is fully in control of the event. Major spiritual forces may be at
work, moving Moscow in irrational directions.”
“Armageddon?”39 Father asks bluntly.
“That’s my unofficial opinion as a Christian, Father. What’s yours?”
“I think the larger part of Armageddon will be a spiritual battle, not
one in the physical world. The fire from heaven that resolves Armageddon
is spiritual fire, the tongues of flame from the Holy Spirit as at Pentecost.
“If you look at Malachi 3, Obadiah, Micah 4, Zechariah 10 and 12 you
see that there will be a direct conflict between God’s people and the
devil’s people, a conflict decided by the flames of the Holy Spirit. The
consuming fire of the Holy Spirit will be expressed through God’s people
on earth: ‘The house of Jacob shall be a fire.’ On the other hand, I expect
there will be substantial military confrontations that spring from the
spiritual battle.
“As I have come to view it through private revelation and scriptural
study, the primary worldly manifestations of the final assault, if you will,
began with WWI. These manifestations continued through WWII and the
smaller though no less tragic conflicts around the globe on into modern
times. In addition to these horrendous tragedies, the final assault has
brought with it the great apostasy, the moral decay we see in society.
“Since our Blessed Holy Mother’s appearance at Fatima in Portugal in
1917 (and it makes sense that God would give us a dramatic last warning
prior to the last battle), there has remained the chance that Russia would
be converted to Christ. Although we did not see that conversion through
WWII and the Cold War, I suspect it has since occurred in large part. I
suspect that our friends in the Russian leadership are just that: good guys.
“What has happened here is anomalous. It’s a major demonic
incursion of some kind. The good guys have been overrun. If I am correct,
we should be able to see irrationality in the lack of military logic
underlying Russian tactical and strategic actions. But that’s basically the
same thing you were saying: Russia leaders aren’t fully in control here.”
“I think we can already see irrationality, Father. Mother Russia has left
herself wide open to ground assault from many directions while focusing
her best resources on one massive strike at tiny Israel. It makes no sense.
Her sheer size and the forbidding terrain are all that remain to defend her
against a major offensive on the ground.”
“Let’s pray they recover their autonomy.”
“Already on my prayer list, Father. But go ahead, I’ll follow.”
“Our Father in heaven . . . .” Father concludes and rises.
“Keep us as informed as you can, Colonel Johnson, we have people
back there on the ground, wives and children. These guys here are worried
sick.” He nods to Joe and Clayton, both deep in prayer for the safety of
their families. Father Bernie acknowledges to himself that he has adopted
both families as his own. He’s as worried as they are.
“It’ll be done.”
“Thanks.” Father shakes his hand. “Since we are both senior officers
now, how about that first name?”
“Gary . . . Gary Johnson. A pleasure to meet you, Father.”
“Same here. Are you a Catholic, Gary?”
“Just—confirmed at Easter! The scuttlebutt has it that a lot of the
military are moving that way, and in a hurry.”
“Scuttlebutt?”
“That’s all I can say for now, Father. I’d better check in up front. I’m
on a fifteen-minute protocol for variations in itinerary. We are masking
the movement of our key assets to Russian satellites as best we can for as
long as we can until we figure what exactly is happening and how best to
respond to it.
“While the logistics of managing so many combat airplanes gets a bit
complicated, our general strategy is quite simple. It’s that of a shootout in
a western movie. We are maneuvering to achieve a clear visible
advantage, one ultimately to be made known to our enemies. If you have
the drop on your opponent, as they say in the Westerns, your gun is in his
face and his gun is still in the holster, he gives up. Nobody shoots; no one
gets hurt. However, if you both draw at the same time, everyone shoots
until the other guy is no longer capable of shooting. People get hurt. There
is far too much at stake in a strategic nuclear scenario to permit the
second option to take place. The message has to be clear: ‘There is no
point in launching.’
“Israel has already let the regional cat out of the bag, but we are
hoping to contain the much greater specter of worldwide strategic nuclear
war with Russia.
“I’ll check in with you later, Father. Get some rest. We don’t know
what comes next.”
“I shouldn’t think a handful of old retirees would be considered key
assets, Colonel.” Joe observes. “I worked in deployment planning a few
years. I never saw an over the hill gang team in the system.”
Colonel Johnson smiles. “The great electronic brain that coordinates
Project Gabriel thinks you are key assets. Computers are never wrong,
you know.” Colonel Johnson chuckles to himself waiting. This remark
never fails to get a response in the military.
“You mean they never admit that they’re wrong.”
“That’s what I mean.”
Everyone laughs.
“That’s our code word, then, for this operation, ‘Project Gabriel’?”
Father asks.
“Yes. It’s on your orders.”
“And computers are calling the shots?” Joe challenges.
“That’s the gist of it,” Colonel Johnson admits.
“Angels and ministers of grace defend us!” Joe’s not sure if he’s
quoting Shakespeare, scripture, or Star Trek, but, as an experienced
computer systems analyst, he is sure that they need God’s help.
Father has picked up on something from the colonel’s comments.
Johnson’s remarks vaguely parallel some of the information he and
Garfield have gathered in their journal project over the past years,
unconfirmed private revelations with recurring hints of coordinated
Christian military maneuvers, divine assistance from “Gabriel,” meteors,
nuclear explosions, a bishops ring and many other powerful symbols—
unfortunately symbols vague enough to mean just about anything.
Garfield has the diary. Ambiguities notwithstanding, Father Bernie
clearly recalls references to “Project Gabriel.” If it turns out to be this
operation, the diary will have to be properly secured. The U.S. military
could not take it seriously, not on an official basis, but the demonically
infested Russian leadership would love to know all about it. It should be
resting in a safe in the Vatican. Father Bernie received a few of the
messages himself, but Garfield trusted them more. Seven years and yet
they were never called to take any action. Ye of little faith, Father chides
himself.
“Whose checking the computer for electronic brain farts?” Joe asks,
having experienced his share of same as a computer analyst.
“A select team of computer specialists and war planners. The team
chief is Air Force Major Eugene Roscoco—been in black operations
planning for years. His six years as enlisted slowed down his promotions
a bit, but he’ll get there. He hangs out in one of those nonexistent offices
at the Pentagon. He’s a born again Christian to die for. A man after your
own heart, Father, soon to be Catholic I’m told. I first met him at the
Desert Storm III out-brief at Andrews. The President loves his briefings.
He’s never at a loss for an answer.”
“How do you know all that?” Father asks.
“I’ve attended all the briefings. I’m his boss—one of them. As the
project officer for Project Gabriel during the test and evaluation phases
Roscoco reported to the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency and
the systems development and acquisition folks at Wright-Patterson Air
Force Base, Ohio. Now that the project has been moved to
implementation, it falls under Joint Task Force Gabriel, which is my baby.
“Air Force Special Operations Command has the lead now because we
are small enough to give it an immediate operational test and evaluation,
and because of the nature of the project itself. We have a more frequent
need for a fast, real-time, combat decision support system. No one denies
Space Command’s need to support strategic operations, but, if Space
Command has to use it in strategic nuclear war, there will be no
civilization left to implement any lessons learned. You can’t plan an
operational field test around a doomsday event everyone hopes and prays
never occurs. Space Command will implement the system, but only after
we’re through testing it here at AFSOC.”
—End Part II
PART III
Ephraim Shall Be Valiant Men
1 Cor 7:25-31 NAB
I tell you, brothers, the time is running out. From now on, let
those having wives act as not having them, those weeping as
not weeping, those rejoicing as not rejoicing, those buying as
not owning, those using the world as not using it fully. For
the world in its present form is passing away.
CHAPTER 6
“Who’s on First?”
Most of the passengers on the President’s command post have
joined the President in a nap with the exception of the night shift aircrew
and defensive systems console operators. One other is awake: the
President’s Chief of Staff, William Katz. He finds it hard to sleep sitting
up. This all feels so wrong to him. It’s not what he was given to expect
from the political science curriculum at Princeton. He risks a groggy
inquiry of his boss, who doesn’t hear the first three attempts. He’ll have to
risk more volume: “Mr. President!”
“Yes, Bill?” The President stirs uneasily on Bill’s last insistent
whisper.
“We’ve been in the air an awfully long time. I don’t feel safe up here
anymore.”
“I know, Bill. Go back to sleep.”
“We could have been anywhere in the world and back by now. When
are we going to set down?”
“When Gene tells me, Bill.”
“When is Gene going to tell you, Mr. President?”
“When his computer tells him. Now, let’s just get some rest.”
“That’s it, our lives are in the hands of that fourth generation laptop?”
The President concludes that Bill’s complaint isn’t going to go away.
He’ll have to deal with it.
“That’s it, Bill. You can go back to sleep now. I’ll look into it.”
“Thank you, Mr. President.”
Bill nods off to sleep in hopes of waking up safe on the ground—
preferably in his own bed at home.
The President looks around to see who is working night shift as shift
supervisor. “Gene! Stop punching those keys a moment and come over
here.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“How is Gabriel feeling today? When is he going to put us back on
Mother Earth again?”
“I don’t know, Mr. President, I don’t think even the programmers can
provide a detailed prediction of the system output.”
“Isn’t there someone you can call? We are well past a sanity check on
this thing.”
“Sergeant Books might know what to do. He supervised the field
trials.”
“Good. Put us on the same line. I worked with Walt twenty years ago
in Europe.”
“Very well, Mr. President. I suggest we step away from the others and
keep this between ourselves.”
“Gabriel is your baby, Gene; I just hope it grows out of diapers soon.”
“It passed the field tests with flying colors, Mr. President.”
“I know, Gene, but we’ve been in the air three days, minus the quick
maintenance stops and refueling. The safety factor with our aircrew is off
the chart; even the alternates are exhausted. The tankers are out of fuel,
and we are out of pizza.”
The President leans in close to offer the ultimate challenge.
“We can’t make big decisions without pizza, Gene. My stress
counselor confirms it.”
“It would be a break with precedent.”
“Let’s make that call.”
The two make their way back to the only private compartment left
empty on the President’s airborne command post. They place a call to the
Pentagon via secure satellite phone. Technical Sergeant Walter Books
picks up the line on the other end.
“Yes sir, . . . Mr. . . . President!” Walt doubts what he is reading on
the caller ID screen.
“You’re phone’s working, Walt, it’s me. We need your advice on
something.”
“Anything I can do, Mr. President. You know that. Lay it out for me.”
Major Roscoco breaks in. “Here’s the problem Walt: the Gabriel
program should have set us down hours ago, but we’re still in the air.
What do you suggest? Can the programmers run a check of the computer
code?”
“Under normal peacetime test program conditions they could. But we
are not in peacetime, are we Major?”
“Not hardly, Walt. If we shut the system down to check it we can’t use
it. If a major attack breaks loose in the meantime, and there is every
indication of it, we lose the advantage Gabriel gives to us. We can
revalidate the backup copies but that won’t tell us what’s going on with
the primary version we’re running. Those checks are pretty much useless
anyway. The backup versions haven’t been used since they were last
validated. We know they will pass. What else have you got up your
sleeve?”
“Well . . . ” Walt considers the situation. A solution comes to him,
though not from computer programming logic. He recalls the prophetic
revelation instead. “This is going to seem extreme to you two intelligence
pros, but I’m proposing a strategy that goes way out on a limb.”
“What’s the strategy, Walt? We’re already on the limb,” the President
prompts.
Tired from fourteen hours of bending over his desk, Walt stands to
stretch his stocky six foot frame. He plays out the phone cord walking to
the door, and peaks out and down the long empty corridor. He’s looking
for Don. In addition to being fully exhausted, Walt is suddenly very edgy
about something. I wonder what’s holding things up. Walt is looking
forward to being relieved and getting a couple hours rest. He
contemplatively combs back his slightly too long blond locks, then dumps
the punch line on the boss.
“Common sense. That’s the only strategy noncommissioned officers
use. We’re not properly educated, you know . . . and, well, it’s the only
strategy that works!” Walt takes a second look, catching Don just entering
from the stairwell sixty or seventy yards down on the right. Ah! Relief at
last.
“Translate it for us, Walt. You know commissioned officers are
required to turn in their brains for a hand receipt to be returned to them
only upon retirement,” the President jokes—“it’s a safety measure.”
“And all these years I thought that was just a bad joke,” Walt
dishonestly replies.
“That’s what I thought, Walt, until I became President.”
Major Roscoco coughs. “Go ahead with your suggestion, Walt.”
“Well, Major, it goes like this. We all know who the architect of the
project Gabriel program is, and it sure isn’t those pencil-necked geeks
from Communications Command that hang around my office. Their
names are on record as the authors, but the Holy Spirit designed this
program. You know it and I know it. The programmers coordinated the
design under His guidance to offset the supernatural advantage our enemy
has held in doing their strategic plans under demonic influence. Even so,
only a handful of us have the courage to admit this in the real world.”
Walt pauses for a moment for the light to come on with his superiors on
the other end.
“And?”
“And . . . if the Holy Spirit can influence those guys, he can influence
the rest of us just as easily. Do you feel it is time to set the plane down?”
The President answers, beginning to see his logic: “Yes, I feel it is
time. Any objections, Major?”
“None, Mr. President.”
“That’s my advice then: follow your heart. That’s how God talks to
us.” TSgt Books is one of the earliest team members of project Gabriel,
from the U.S. military’s perspective and from God’s. A few days after the
trumpet call he received a prophetic message that predicted his own death
following close upon the implementation of Project Gabriel.
“Thanks, Walt, as always you’re a veritable storehouse of wisdom,”
the President commends.
“Thank you, Mr. President. With your permission, I’ll be getting back
to work now.” Walt repeats the old joke he used to pull on the President
when his boss interrupted him with priority intelligence alerts in
Germany. The two of them worked several delicate issues together in the
old days regarding metal scavengers in the former soviet republics trying
to sell leftover radioactive materials to terrorists.40 This was back before
Monty Lewis became a political phenomenon; he was then only an
unknown major, and frequently an unseen one.
A knock comes at the compartment door. “Gabriel has alarmed, Gene.
She’s setting us down at a nearby airbase.” It’s the co-pilot, Lt. Col.
Robert Lance.
“Thank God!”
They both breathe a sigh of relief.
TSgt Books is smiling again as Sgt. Strickland comes into the office.
As Walt holds up his hand to ask for silence while the President’s call is
pending a holy blessing washes over the two of them. Walt immediately
intuits the meaning. He passes Don a disconcerting look, casting an
affectionate though troubled glance at heaven.
Don knows this can mean only one thing. In addition to concern, there
is a jubilance in Walt’s smile fully out of sync with the humdrum day the
two have yet again experienced in the tiny little office. He kneels to pray.
“But there is something else you should know,” Col. Lance adds.
“Hold a moment, Walt. What do we need to know, Colonel?”
“It’s not our base.”
“Did you hear that, Walt?” The President still thinks three heads are
better than two. “Gabriel is setting us down at an . . . ” he nods to Col.
Lance to fill in the blank.
“Israeli, sir.”
“ . . . at an Israeli air base. Can that be right? What do you think?”
“All are agreed that it is time to set down, including the computer. If
that’s where you’re at, go with the program.” And you had better do it
quickly, he doesn’t add.
“If this works out, Walt, I’m promoting you,” the President threatens.
“Thank you, Mr. President. But if this works out, I’m retiring.” “Great
idea, Walt. We’ll go sturgeon fishing, like we used to plan in Germany all
those years.”
“Thanks Boss! That could actually happen. Don knows a great spot,”
Walt lies, knowing now that it won’t.
“I look forward to it. Keep your head down for the meantime, Walt.
We’ll be in touch.”
“Godspeed, Mr. President.”
Walt kneels to offer what he believes could be his last prayer on earth.
In the President’s airborne command post the call is not properly
terminated. Although the line goes dead, Walt has not closed out his end.
This is because the blast and searing flash from a nuclear explosion has
just moved through the center of Washington D.C., obliterating the
Pentagon, and the Whitehouse. A series of similar impacts have destroyed
generally everything else from Patuxtent River Maryland to McClean
Virginia.
Gabriel immediately flags users that critical information is processing.
It looks to data verification checkpoints to confirm what it “suspects”
before announcing the tragedy. Most of those checkpoints no longer exist.
The programmers have centralized data control too heavily in and around
the Pentagon. Fortunately, the Gabriel program is smart enough to
compensate, going to other points on the system to ask for related data.
Heaven is faster responding to the tragedy than earth. The three men
on the plane feel it at the same time, falling to their knees with reverence.
Tears are unavoidable. St. Mary! A divinely gentle presence and the
softest touch, then “Godspeed, gentlemen,” and she is gone.
They do not rise. Major Roscoco immediately leads them in prayer.
Afterward a respectful period of silence, Lt. Col. Lance is the first to
speak. “Wow!”
Offering a sign of the cross, he returns to the work at hand.
“What about the Chairman, your Chief of Staff and the other personnel
on board. Shall I brief them on our landing site?”
The President, still smiling, is dazed with joy; he continues looking up
through the roof of the plane.
“Wow, is right! Oh…yes, Bob. See to it.”
“Yes, sir.”
The co-pilot hurries off to advise the others of the President’s decision to land.
President Lewis resumes smiling at the ceiling. Then after a moment
returns to the task at hand. “Plug it into the system immediately, Gene,
we’re landing here. Tell Bill to get me the Israeli Prime Minister. Call
your Israeli military contact and confirm what they’ll be seeing on their
computer screens and runway in twenty minutes.”
“Yes sir, Mr. President.”
Major Roscoco jogs up to the Chief of Staff. He’s back in less than a
minute. “Bill couldn’t get through, sir. Something’s going on with the
phones. Here’s the latest from our side: Gabriel is setting them all down,
except the stealth units we launched late last night. They’ve been assigned
targets. Our combined intelligence assets have made critical inputs in the
last six hours. The system now anticipates a strategic nuclear launch
against Israel. Not all the equipment rolling into the Middle East is armor.
More launchers have arrived. Gabriel gives Israel a five percent survival
rate unless that launch is preempted.”
“Monty!” It’s the Chief of Staff. “I’ve got the Director of Israeli
Mossad. It’s the best I could do. He’s senior in their OpCenter at the
moment. And some bad news. Their Prime Minister was just killed in a
terrorist attack. He insisted on staying out among the people to boost
morale.
“Some of his generals are doing likewise. The larger part of them, it
seems, are out in the field at the tip of a massive Israeli armored column
advancing on Syria as a preemptive strike—a huge force movement
Gabriel appears to know nothing about. The Director mumbled something
about ‘David and Goliath.’ Apparently, the Israeli leaders have all suited
up and gone into combat. They’re out there leading the charge: leadership
by example.”
“Bill, that’s the only kind of leadership there is. Give me the phone.
“Director, this is President Lewis. Listen closely. We are in the air
over one of your thought to be secret air bases. We’ll be landing in—he
pauses to check the overhead digital—eighteen minutes.” He gives the
Israelis their Global Positioning System coordinates and receives those of
the landing zone.
“Thought to be secret? Why Mr. President, I’m sure you don’t mean to
suggest that Israel would ever withhold the details of our absolutely
essential most secret defense information from the American President,
and thereby withhold it from his Congress, and thereby withhold it from
his public, and thereby withhold it from the entire rest of the world?”
“Of course not. It was a mere slip of the tongue . . . . We hope the
reception will be friendly,” the President add with a chuckle.
“I’ll see to it.” The Director points out a location on the wall map to
his aide, who immediately issues a flurry of commands to several
assistants. Radio’s relay instructions to the Israeli Base Commander, who
orders his personnel to prepare for distinguished visitors. Five aircraft
parking spots are made ready. Confirmation is then returned to the Israeli
OpCenter.
“And one more thing.” “Yes, Mr. President.”
“We think we can be of great help to you, if our planning information
is current and complete. Tell your entire staff that if they are holding back
any force deployment or targeting information to dump it into the Gabriel
system in the next five minutes or they can bend over and kiss their butt
goodbye. A nuclear strike on your country is imminent. We will respond,
but we don’t want to take out friendly forces in the process, or overlook a
known threat. Is that clear enough?”
“It is clear, sir. I’ll see that it’s done. Berths for your five planes have
been made ready.”
“We only have three planes,” the President corrects.
“That’s not what Gabriel says. It says five; there’s an American
Special Ops hospital bird and an AWACS just ahead of you, escorted by
four of your thought to be secret third generation high tech stealth
fighters, armed to the teeth. I take it your prototype fighters are not
landing with you.”
“That’s correct . . . and touché. Go with the program, Director,
concerning the additional planes. You have my sincerest condolences on
the death of your Prime Minister. Please pass them to your nation with
those of my wife.”
“They will be passed, Mr. President. Tell Anna Ben-Manashe that
Israel sends its love to her. We have two first ladies while she lives.”
“Thank you, General Avraham. Godspeed.”
“Godspeed, Mr. President.”
***
Colonel Johnson returns from the cockpit on the run.
“Heads up! We’re making a quick landing! Then get ready for a fast
exit!”
“Where are we?” Father Bernie groggily inquires, just waking from a
brief nap.
“Israel,” Johnson responds without stopping. He barks instructions to
the security team in the rear of the plane. They break out short-barreled
assault rifles, grenade launchers, handguns and ammunition. Gabriel has
alerted them to the danger of insurgents in the landing zone.
Joe and Clayton are equipped with a rifle each, while Father Bernie
gets a 9 mm pistol.
They are too high to see anything distinctly on the ground, but Father
looks out the window anyway, hoping for an angel, a cross . . . anything!
Butterflies multiply in his stomach. A plane pulls up alongside them.
“Look, the President’s airborne command post!”
“There’s you’re assignment, Father: Detachment 7, Pentagon. Just
follow that plane,” Colonel Johnson jests, as the pilot comes on the
intercom.
“Gabriel is advising us to hurry our descent, and that’s exactly what
I’m doing. Hold onto your hats!” Their plane banks and rolls right diving
steeply.
The President’s plane banks more sharply and cuts ahead of them,
plummeting, though not as steep as a dive-bomber. Johnson falls into a
seat and hurriedly buckles up. Inertia pulls them heavily against their seat
belts. Many instinctively raise their arms to defend impacting the roof.
The pilot comes back on the intercom. “Gabriel informs us we have
hostile aircraft approaching. They may be carrying unconventional
bombs, even tactical nuclear warheads. Twenty-four minutes out and
closing. I’ll be off the intercom until we land. Brace for a hard landing.
Immediately exit the plane. Good luck.”
Colonel Johnson amends his previous instructions. “Forget the
insurgents and perimeter defense. There will be no time for standard air
base defense tactics. The moment we touch down get off this plane and
run. Lay down covering fire for the rest of us on the run as needed, but
carefully, we have a total of five friendly planes in ingress, and who
knows what the Israeli security forces will be doing on the ground—
carefully!.
“Go where the Israelis point you. We’ll form up again after the danger
of that tactical nuke strike is over. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!” comes back from his security team leader.
“The same goes for you and your friends, Father. We’re guests of the
Israelis until further notice; follow their instructions.”
“Gabriel has alarmed, sir!” One of the sergeants calls out. “This
requires your immediate attention.”
Colonel Johnson reviews the computer notice quickly, and then
instructs his medical team. “Pull the orange kits from the equipment
locker up front—now!
“OK, everybody—med techs keep working, but listen—we have three
minutes to do this. This is a pre-exposure booster shot that protects
against chemicals, germs and radiation. It’s good for twelve hours, but
needs fifteen minutes to take effect. Roll up your sleeves!”
Colonel Johnson falls into a seat and rolls up his sleeve. The med techs
struggle through the aisle, progressively moving toward the rear, roughly
jabbing people in the arm as they go. It’s not painless, but it is quick.
“We’ll be lucky if we can run after these shots,” Clayton remarks. He
ignores the “Oh, my” his bicep elicits from the female med tech.
“God’s will be done,” followed by “Ouch!” comes from Joe. He
expects to pass out where he sits. If the basic shot can knock Clayton
down, he’s not likely to do well with this pre-combat booster. The war
planners almost certainly will be willing to take more risks with this one.
That is to say, they will be willing that the soldier take more risks, while
they remain safe in the Pentagon. There is a certain validity to trading the
long-term health of the soldier for short-term productivity on the
battlefield during decisive moments, but it is not comfortable logic to live
with on the business end.
Father is not oblivious to this possibility either. He is already praying
and doesn’t look up as the needle pricks his arm.
Having now seen to the passengers, the medical team forms a double
line. They each administer a shot to the “man” facing them, who
inoculates them at the same time, completing six shots in the time
required for one. They fall into their seats and buckle up, earning a “Job
well done, guys” from the colonel.
The plane slows, lessens its angle of descent, and seemingly floats in
behind the President’s plane on approach to the spot they believe to hold a
landing strip.
***
“Ouch!” comes from the President.
“Ouch!” from Major Roscoco.
The flight crew is inoculated next and most of the airborne command
post crew. Not all have joined the test program.
“Stay buckled up, everyone, we’re in a steep descent. Run for cover
the moment we hit the ground and get the doors open!” the pilot advises.
“The Israelis have made an update to Gabriel, Mr. President. Gabriel
now advises an immediate strike on the new strategic missile launchers in
Iran and Syria. The gigantic armored column in Iran and the large
armored cav, mechanized infantry, and logistics units now forming up
inside the Russian border are for some reason not on the hit list.
“A new Israeli war plan, David and Goliath, has appeared in the
system. A huge head-on armored confrontation is looming at the IsraelSyria border. We also have a ‘critical information processing’ flag in
Gabriel; it might take some time to resolve—top priority designator.
Clearly something major has happened. The same flag is appearing on
practically everything on the U.S. East Coast, plus several major
metropolitan areas.” This update comes from Major Roscoco.
“What do the Joint Chiefs advise, General Wiles?” the President
commands.
“As you know, sir, the others have been dispersed to different
locations for survivability. It could be twenty minutes before their input is
consolidated. We can’t get through to the Pentagon at all. I concur with
the strike plan.”
“The Pentagon is not answering, sir. None of their numbers respond,
not even housekeeping,” the general’s aide advises.
“Keep trying!”
Major Roscoco presses the President for a decision. “We don’t have
twenty minutes, Mr. President. We’ll be landing in seventeen. We might
not survive the tactical nuclear strike that could follow. Our fighters won’t
intercept the hostile pursuit for another eleven minutes. They may or may
not take it out. Gabriel gives us one minute and forty-five seconds to give
the strike order to successfully preempt enemy launch against Israel. Our
planes are in position. Shall I confirm?”
The President places his hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples.
“It’s confirmed Gene. Take ’em out. But don’t strike within the
Russian border. I want to give our friends there a chance to pull out of this
fiasco. It may not be all their doing. Repeat my order.”
“Understood, Mr. President. Take out the nuke launchers in Iran and
Syria; no strikes within the Russian border.”
“Affirmative. You are authorized to proceed.”
Major Roscoco sends the strike order through Gabriel. General Wiles
radios confirmation to the stealth fighter and bomber squadrons.
The strike force approaches its targets. Given the efficiency of the new
and much larger fuel-air bombs the stealth planes have loaded specially
for this mission, there is little chance a launcher will survive to threaten
Israel.
Israel has allocated six advanced prototype experimental fighterbombers of their own to destroy the same launchers. They are now seen
swooping down just behind the stealth teams, raising fiery plumes at
practically identical points. The new satellite-based integrated targeting
and guidance systems the Israeli’s have mounted in these Top Secret jets
even processes data input from Gabriel in real time. They won’t miss.
To be sure, U.S. Special Operations teams will follow up by
helicopter, land in the strike zones and manually destroy any surviving
equipment. Those teams won’t find any pieces large enough to cause
concern. The U.S. fighter jocks and Israeli test pilots do their job.
***
“Another alarm from Gabriel, sir. You’d better see this. Impacts, big
ones. . . in . . . ”
Major Roscoco leans over the sergeant who is speaking from the
console, staring in disbelief—stunned, despite long years of experience.
“Go ahead Gene, we have precious few minutes to landing,” the
President orders.
“Some of our major cities have been knocked out, sir: Washington
D.C., Dayton, Denver, San Francisco . . . hold on, multiple impacts in the
D.C. area. Strategic response against Russia not, repeat not
recommended. These are not ICBMs, Mr. President; something smaller.
Relatively large radiation yield, but small blast area, acute radiation
perimeter significant but still well below that expected from an ICBM.
However, there is more radiation exposure occurring immediately at
ground level. It’s a killing zone down there.”
“Satan’s not going to make it easy for us, is he Gene?”
“No, Mr. President!”
“ ‘Authentication complete’ shows on all computer and strategic radio
system readouts, General Wiles. The emergency command channel is
successfully patched into strategic alert forces worldwide. They will all
now be standing buy for your instructions.” This comes from an Air Force
major in charge of the “football,” the portable nuclear weapons command
and control computer console assigned to the President.
“Mr. President. What are your orders?”
“General Wiles, are we sure our satellites show no strategic missile
launches?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are we confident our satellite hardware, software or signal
transmissions have not been tampered with?”
“No, sir. Some of our satellite signal processing and evaluation
software units have clearly been tampered with; they are saying we have
ICBMs where we know we have nothing but ground-activated dirty
bombs based upon multiple independent visuals, radiation checks, and
spectrographic tests. The field teams we dispersed around the globe last
year from the CIA and National Security Agency were unanimous at the
time: no compromises to satellite function or data security. But we clearly
have some kind of a problem now. Someone has been horsing around with
a couple of our satellite ground stations since then, causing them to
generate these false readings. Someone is trying to start a ***!!!### war,
here, sir—pardon my language.”
“Don’t worry about the language, Ken; it’s a tough situation.”
The President clears his throat and takes a breath. The Chairman of the
Joint Chiefs looks the President in the eye as a question. The President
nods. His decision is made.
General Wiles turns the selector knob on his radio with a grimace.
This hails all nuclear-capable alert aircrews to standby on the emergency
channel. He presses the transmit button further down into the lock mode,
which keeps the line open. There are only two radios that do this, his and
the President’s. This is done so that the President’s command will have
been heard directly in the event the President’s plane goes down before
standard procedures can be carried out.
Authentication codes must be verified and triple checked in any case,
both manually and electronically. The assumption in allowing
complicated verification that slows down the response is that an
accidental nuclear strike will always remain more probable than an
unprovoked attack due to the deterrent value inherent in any use of
nuclear weapons. The aggressor will have to struggle through the
aftermath of a nuclear holocaust the same as the defender. With global
warming now established, and the total planetary burden of pesticide and
toxic chemicals beyond critical thresholds, it is an accepted fact that the
ecosystem of the earth would ultimately collapse over time following any
major nuclear exchange. Barring insanity, accidental release of nuclear
weapons remains the larger concern. The attack on the U.S. wasn’t
accidental, but it’s source is unknown.
General Wiles clears his throat and begins: “All personnel standby for
instructions…”
The next few moments of executive deliberation pass as an eternity to
the waiting strategic forces. Then finally the decision comes.
“No strategic response, General; repeat, no . . . nuclear . . . response.
Alert crews may stand down. Advise the Kremlin of our take on this so
they may do the same. Tell them not to worry about an overreaction from
the U.S.”
Wiles releases the key and nuclear force alert units worldwide
simultaneously exhale relief as if they were one man. The emergency
channel is closed and authenticated.
“Listen up,” the President orders. “Analyze the blast, fallout, and
satellite image data further to confirm Gabriel’s conclusion that there was
no ICBM strike. Preliminary reports from all service branches and intel in
eighteen hours. Understood?”
“Yes, sir! Can I have a moment, Mr. President, to get things moving?”
“It’s your planet, Ken. Let’s see what you can do with it.”
The President pauses to allow General Wiles to call his aides into a
huddle. An aide pushes a spill-proof insulated cup of coffee in his
direction, which he takes and motions for another for General Wiles.
Wiles finishes the initial briefing of his troops and they disperse. With
some help from his top aides, he soon completes the necessary calls,
electronic data transmissions, and radio messages. The basic military and
intelligence diagnostic effort to find out what just happened is now in
motion. He double times back to his Commander-in-Chief, accepting the
coffee gratefully as he arrives.
The President motions for them both to sit down in facing chairs, and
begins. “OK, Ken, let me give you some quick thoughts to get you started
before I get buried in calls to our allies and other heads of state. You’ll
need notes for this.”
General Wiles motions for his aide and grabs his clipboard, waving
him immediately away again.
“Number one, roll everything we’ve got in the States to the relief of
those poor stricken people: medicine, food, water, tents, field hospitals,
sanitation, evacuation convoys, decon teams—you name it. Recall every
Reserve doctor that’s still breathing,” the President commands.
Wiles scratches a few things down in his own informal shorthand.
“Yes, sir. Go ahead, sir.”
“Two: put our military hurricane response units in charge; they know
best how to handle a large disaster. With Washington out of the lineup,
FEMA won’t have a clue how to respond, if they ever did. Give them
something minor to do; keep them out of the way. There is no time for red
tape on this. No paperwork and no waiting lines. Is that understood?”
The resolve in the President’s face and voice make clear that instant
dismissal hangs in the balance for any deviation. The staff have never
seen Monty like this, but there is no doubt about that he means it.
The volume of Monty’s voice begins steadily rising as a natural result
of the pressure he feels to respond compassionately to a tragedy of such
immense proportions.
“We will not make excuses; we will not give explanations of what
went wrong. We are simply going to do this right. Is . . . that . . .
understood?”
“Yes, sir!” reflexively comes from everyone present, though they were
not addressed. The President ignores them, his focus locked on General
Wiles.
“Very good, sir. Message received loud and clear.”
The President stands up and paces, sending staff scurrying ahead of
him and leaning over seats to make room. Tension builds in his face. His
body moves rigidly, like a robot. Mental and emotional pressure is
translating to muscle tension. No one wants to be there when he crosses
the redline and the steam release valve blows.
“Three: press the civilian medical corps into service: nurses, aides, the
whole thing, but don’t make them military per se.
“Four: limited martial law is in effect for a hundred mile radius of all
impact areas, no more. Let’s not give the racist good ’ol boy network or
the military industrial complex/mafia weenies any opportunities to step in
and suspend constitutional rights here. We are not fascists.”
“Got it, Mr. President. Limited martial law, 100 mile radius. Go
ahead.”
“Five: create local emergency medical districts for ease of
administration. Get everyone evacuated and cordon off incoming traffic.
“Six: set up refugee centers along the northern border at the air bases
up there. Do the same thing in Florida and along the Gulf Coast. Their
plan seems to be to hit us along the midline. Don’t stop the relief convoys
until they say they have enough.”
The Chief of Staff, Bill Katz, breaks in. The shock has worn off and he
is starting to think politics and bureaucracy again.
“Until who says they have enough, Mr. President? Local government
does not exist in those areas; they’ve been wiped out. It’s chaos,” Bill
reminds him.
“The people, Bill, the people. They run this country, remember?”
Bill and Monty shared a couple political philosophy classes at
Princeton, Monty being Bill’s senior by two years. The President gives
Bill a sharp look that says it all: he’s in the middle of an emergency and
it’s not the time for politics and bureaucracy.
“Yes, sir!” Bill has not been through military basic training, but he
now understands it. He turns back to fiddle with his laptop and briefcase.
“Do this right, General Wiles. You are the absolute best man I’ve got,
hands down, and we are fortunate to have you…but, if the supply lines
stop one moment too soon, if there is one old man complaining he didn’t
get a coffee ration, let alone that his crippled wife didn’t get a seat on the
evacuation convoy, I’m going to have your job, your retirement check,
and your backside—understood? Don’t get in my way on this, Ken. I love
you as a dear friend, but there will be no more Katrinas!”
“Understood, sir. Understood. I fully agree with you. Katrina turned
my stomach. You may recall that I was the guy who called the press and
the Whitehouse at the time. I told them that the 82nd and 101st Airborne
were ready; our guys were itching to go in there and help. I nearly got
fired for that. The United States government failed those people, Monty . .
. we failed those people . . . I hated it . . . God, I hated it!”
Ken’s outburst is genuine. Many of the staff present who have been
unavoidably eavesdropping on this exchange felt the same empathy with
Katrina victims at the time; some are moved to tears.
“I know it, Ken, I know it . . . . Ken, go do your job. I’ll back you up . .
. and I’ll stay out of your way. Just give our people the best we have to
give them. Dismissed.”
General Wiles turns to his radio and immediately begins chewing out
his trusted deputy, Colonel Frank O’Connor. O’Connor is in the air
somewhere over the United States.
“We’ve got people dying out there, Frank! Let them know they
haven’t been forgotten. What do you think they pay 17% of their income
in tax for, our personal retirement fund? No. It’s for times like this when
they truly need help. Stop and personally change diapers if you have to.
We are going to put the lessons learned from Katrina to work here on a
grand scale. No supply shortages, no delays—take care of them. Give the
same instructions to all commands. Put my name on it. Follow that with
the President’s seal. Monty is absolutely adamant. We have to get this
right, or else. Do you understand me, Colonel?”
“Understood, General. The President is right, of course.”
“Very good, Frank. Go do it now. Time is crucial for those suffering
families. Put people in charge who have some ***###!!! common sense
and give them full authority to get the job done.
“Remember, only limited martial law. Ever since the Kennedy-King
assassinations, McVeigh-Nichols at Oklahoma City, and the Gulf War
Illness cover-up, we have known that not everyone in government or in
uniform is on our side. Most are, but not all. Let’s not give the racist
defense complex mafias anything to work with here. They will use this
opportunity to oppress the minorities if we let them. We are defending the
Constitution here, not just the border.
“Also, make a memo for Congress. Send runners to track down the
legislators who were not in Washington to fulfill notification
requirements. We need legislation to authorize pressing civilian medical
types into temporary national service on an emergency basis.
“Evacuate contaminated zones. Give the survivors our best medical
care. Many won’t survive the long term, but set them up comfortably
regardless of prognosis where resources permit. Keep families together.
This is not just about physical survival; the spiritual counts here too, the
humane. Let’s not exacerbate this tragedy with an inept response.
“I heard the President tell the Attorney General he was sending out the
FBI with presidential warrants. They will arrest anyone from the governor
on down who drags their feet in emergency response. They are actually
going to do it! The uniformed services are not exempt.
“Hurray for the good guys!”
“Right on, Frank. Remember, high capacity refugee camps all along
the northern tier at the airbases, the same on the Gulf Coast and Florida.
Are you gone yet?”
“Out the door, general.” Frank begins a brisk military pivot but turns
back to the phone.
“Oh . . . sir . . . General Wiles?”
“Yes, Frank.”
“What about the new draft disaster response Op Plan, the one the
President’s Chief of Staff was so fond of? You know, the one FEMA was
pushing? I think the President jokingly referred to it as ‘the talk and wait
concept.’ Do you want to implement it?”
General Wiles turns to the President.
“What about the new draft emergency response Op Plan FEMA’s
pushing—talk and wait?”
Monty’s face changes to a deep shade of red. A staff member
approaching the President with some reports does an about face and
mouths “Uh-Oh!” to the other staff facing in his direction. He slinks back
into a seat further down the aisle.
Bill Katz, sitting next to the President buries his head deeper into his
laptop and shuffles a few papers as if he hasn’t heard.
The President breaks in. “Frank, this is the President. I reviewed that
Op Plan, as you know. It’s three inches thick. It has committees in it,
Frank: committees. Crimeny! You cannot respond to a life and death
emergency with committees and red tape! I’ll tell you what to do with that
Op Plan: nothing. No, wait, here’s a better idea. Pull it out of the safe.
Sometime next week take a quick look at it to see if it suggests anything of
a common sense nature for this crisis, then rip the Top Secret cover page
off of it, put it in the men’s room in the event that we develop a shortage
of bath tissue. People will get the idea that bureaucratic procedures don’t
apply to life and death emergencies.”
Frank laughs. “I take your point, Mr. President. I’ll give it a quick look
sometime next week, have a couple of our guys recovering in physical
rehab mark over the sensitive parts, then drop in off at the latrine. Given
the extreme circumstances, may I speak freely, Mr. President—a quick
comment on a personal basis?”
“Absolutely.”
“Your still the best, Monty. It’s an honor to serve with you.”
“Thanks for that, Frank. I feel the same about you guys; you know
that. Now, go help those people! And . . . hey, Frank . . . God speed. Be
careful out there. Keep yourself and your people well.”
“Already gone, Mr. President. Thank you for your concern. God bless
the Commander-in-Chief.”
General Wiles chuckles, shortage of tissue. He and Frank both know
how fortunate the nation is to have a real leader at the helm in this crisis.
He would expect to see five or six resignations from FEMA within the
week once the word is passed that the President insulted their cherished
Op Plan. But that is impossible now that the President has signed an
emergency stop-loss measure. It locks all government employees in place
until rescinded, civilians included.
Frank relays General Wiles’ instructions to all Major Commands: “All
non-combat assigned military personnel and resources will be
immediately used to assist fully with relief efforts.”
As a result, several hundred rescue and relief helicopters immediately
rise into the air. Within twenty-four hours, five thousand trucks are rolling
east, augmented by giant transport aircraft and interminable lines of trains.
No one has bothered with red tape, paperwork, detailed inventories,
requisitions or anything else, not since the President’s executive order
came in on the FAX. It authorizes any deviation from procedure to save
time as well as reimbursement of civilian businesses rendering emergency
assistance, plus a commission, no questions asked, obvious fraud being
the only exception. It authorizes and commands that supplies of use be
moved in minimum time, anything that could save or maintain a life.
Ambulances and sheriff’s helicopters around the nation have been
given blanket authority to go in and do the best they can, using their own
judgment. No talk, no wait, no paperwork, no nothing. Keep air traffic
control informed, but otherwise don’t wait for anything: read the situation,
get the equipment you need, show your badge, and save a life.
The new disaster response cargo helicopters, preloaded, and standing
on alert since the fiasco with Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans will
arrive at the disaster scenes with life-saving aid within the first three
hours. Emergency medical, temporary shelter and security teams are
included in these helicopter delivered advance teams, along with bare
bones cadres of the unavoidable sanitation and mortuary units. On-scene
commanders are given complete authority to requisition what they need
and tailor the response to the local situation. General Wiles told them to
overstate their requirements by at least 20% in anticipation of the
unexpected. No offer of help from any quarter is to be refused.
As a result of this common sense approach, a massive surge of
volunteers and donations begins moving east. Meeting columns of injured
and dying refugees straggling out of the radiation perimeter, incoming
vehicles from civilian charities dumped their supplies on the side of the
road to be picked up as needed in an impromptu self-service supply
system. Having freed vehicle space, the drivers then rushed the injured to
field hospitals.
Supplies delivered in this manner didn’t take long to distribute
themselves, a most welcome relief to untold thousands of still mobile
refugees. For many these supplies will be the difference between life and
death. With water and food contaminated within the perimeter they by and
large evacuated with only the water supply in their own bodies to sustain
them for up to a three days march. Some marched into worse radiation
than they were fleeing from and perished. Those fortunate enough to
reach a clean sector arrived fully exhausted and dehydrated.
A ten-foot high pile of donated materials, foodstuffs, vehicles and
equipment, 200 yards wide, visible for miles from the air, soon
materialized into a ring around the exterior of the radiation perimeter
Virginia to Maryland. Volunteers continued to replenish it in real time.
Smaller supply rings appeared at Dayton, Denver and San Francisco.
Private citizens, small companies, literally anyone with a truck or a car
brought something to help. Bicycles were left, small vehicles, drums of
gas, tents, food, water, medicine and blankets. People who have never
lived far from the poverty line themselves borrowed gas money to drive
their only means of transportation to the disaster perimeter to be left there
for use by the refugees—tanks full of gas, trunks full of infant formula,
baby food and diapers. They simply left the keys in the ignition, got out
and walked away.
Some walked forty miles between bus connections to get home, then
walked or hitched to work for months after until they could accumulate a
down payment on another car. Not one of them ever regretted what they
did. Volunteers did become ill from radiation, of course. Not all made it
back, but relatively few fatalities were reported.
Though they hadn’t expected it, FEMA ultimately reimbursed those
who delivered aid, and for the loss of their vehicles—another of Monty’s
executive orders, though more than two years went by before most saw
the money. Fraudulent claims were minimal. And they did get a bonus of
sorts, a commission based upon a calculation of the approximate number
of victims they had assisted. They didn’t get rich, but they did get
economic justice.
And they made a difference. The refugees were getting out. They were
alive. Thousands escaped the massive death trap that would otherwise not
have survived without aid. Many family units were still intact, infants still
smiling. All because of the size and speed of the private response
combined with full use of resources from all levels of government.
On-scene reports and interviews with survivors were enough to
solidify team spirit in the American public—permanently. The majority of
Americans did initially interpret the event as Armageddon. If this is going
to be it, then, with God’s grace we will live and die like Americans . . .
and Christians: working together and sharing what we have. Placards on
donated cars and crates of supplies all read the same: “We stand
together.” Some added “One Nation Under God.”
At the point when the military cordon turned civilian aid vehicles
back, the civilians were assured that the supplies they had brought would
reach the refugees. Military drivers did their best to make sure they did,
and FBI inspectors made sure of that. Radiation sickness took its toll
among both of the latter groups, but they got the job done.
***
In the cockpit of the President’s plane the poor light of dusk
compounds an unexpected problem. “Colonel Lance, where’s the landing
strip?” the pilot inquires.
“I don’t see it yet, sir. The Israelis must be good at camouflage.”
“They’re good alright, but you can’t line up with what you can’t see.
We may have to make a second pass.”
An alarm sounds in the cockpit, initiating an orange light. “Jim! We’ve
got a missile locked on us now!”
“Where’d that come from?”
“Radar says thirty thousand at two o’clock, but we can’t climb up
there and fight him in this winged test tube. I’m releasing everything
we’ve got for defensive countermeasures now.”
“Ask our fighter escort to send them our best regards.”
“I’ll do that, Jim.”
Lance punches the radio key. “Echo Sierra leader, this is Gandalf.
Echo Sierra leader, this is Gandalf, acknowledge, over.
“Echo Sierra leader. Go ahead Gandalf.”
“Request immediate destruction of enemy air-to-air missile threat at
two o’clock. Repeat, immediately destroy missile threat at two o’clock,
high. Acknowledge Echo Sierra leader. Gandalf out.”
“Gandalf, this is Echo Sierra leader. Target confirmed as hostile and
acquired. Standby . . . two missiles away.”
“Two missiles away” comes from Echo Sierra’s wingman. “Four
Sparrows en route to target. Standby Gandalf. Over.”
“Roger, Echo Sierra.”
Time stops for the ensuing interval. Sins are repented.
“Gandalf, this is Echo Sierra leader. Target destroyed. Repeat, target
destroyed!”
“Good shooting, Echo!”
“The news is not all good, Gandalf. Time to duck! One hostile heat
seeker in close chasing your countermeasures. Contact in four. One
thousand one . . . ”
Col. James Ostler dives the president’s plane left to avoid missile
debris, then comes the boom!
“Thanks be to God! Echo, we’re still in the air! Job well done. Who’s
driving that thing? I’ve got your tab at the officer’s mess at Andrews
when we get home.”
“Richard Clarke, Captain, United States Air Force. They pulled me off
flight test at Edwards for this duty.”
“Dick, your money will be no good for a week when we get home.
Call your cousins in from out of state. Steak, shrimp, and champagne, the
whole nine yards! Just give your call sign at the bar. My card will be
there.”
“Roger, Gandalf. Two birds returning to base to rearm and refuel. Be
advised, Navy sending F-18s as replacement. Best regards to
Commander-in-Chief U.S. Forces.”
The defensive console operator has handed President Lewis a headset
in the meantime.
“Regards confirmed, Echo,” comes into the fighter group in the
President’s voice. “Dick, this is the President. Sorry for the career
interruption. When you need a recommendation for Air War College, give
me a call.”
“Roger that, Mr. President.”
“Your money’s no good either, Jim,” the president remarks to his own
pilot. “I’m sending my Gold Card number down there. My limit is not as
high as Bill Katz’ account, of course, but it should cover two aircrews and
families. Bring your wingman with you Dick. Team effort. The club
manager at Andrews knows I’m good for it.”
Cheering and laughter comes back from the fighter group.
The President continues to bolster his troops. “Godspeed, Echo. Job
well done! God bless and keep you all until we get home.” The President
closes with a double click.
“I’ll be back,” comes over the radio, then “Echo Sierra out” as the lead
fighter and his wingman dip and fall away gracefully.
President Lewis returns the headset to his defensive systems
technician. Passing a hand back over his hair, his thoughts come out in an
audible sigh, addressed to know one in particular.
“That was close, we barely had time to think. Here today, gone
tomorrow.”
The technician nods without taking his eyes off the radar screen.
Like all else on board, VP Jackson is shaken, but Reverend Jackson
reaches down deeper, drawing on the Lord’s hidden reserves. Assuming
he is not the only one who needs additional strength, Jackson stands up.
He walks the length of the plane whispering the Lord’s Prayer, stopping
to invite staff and troops to touch the “Good Book.” A few take the Bible
into their hands and kiss it, President Lewis being the last of these.
Jackson returns to his seat and just rests his head in his hands.
“We’re lucky to be here, Gene. I think we got a little help from
upstairs on this one,” the President remarks to Major Roscoco.
“Undoubtedly, Mr. President, undoubtedly.”
With that thought Major Roscoco reverses course to pound on the
cockpit door.
“Outstanding job, Jim! A fine piece of work. Don’t think you’re not
appreciated.”
“Thanks Gene. We love you too,” comes over the intercom.
Everyone takes a deep breath. The missile threat is passed, but the
tactical nuke strike on the Israeli Air Base below looms minutes away.
Brows shine with gathering sweat. They struggle to focus on the task at
hand: emergency egress and rapid attainment of the hardened Israeli
shelter.
Colonel Ostler informs his copilot there is more bad news. “The rear
stabilizer is moving erratically, Bob; we must have taken a shrapnel hit.
Other systems may be compromised. The loss of one link in the transfer
of forces chain can generate a whole cascade of additional failures, given
the right maneuvers—stress limits the engineers couldn’t have foreseen.
Trying to land on an invisible air strip while under attack is likely to
produce all those maneuvers. I’m going to land this thing right now before
the plane decides to do it for me.”
“Concur.” Colonel Lance strains out a joke while carefully working
through his emergency checklist “When . . . given . . . a choice . . . of
falling out of the sky . . . or landing . . . always choose landing—Aviation
101.”
“Right again, Bob. I’m told even the Army cadets get that one right.
Put some light on the ground down there for me.”
Colonel Lance flips every switch on the console for ground
illumination flare deployment. With a sweep of his hand the entire area
lights up like the Fourth of July.
“Well, the insurgents definitely know we’re coming now.” “Can’t be
helped.”
“Over there, Jim, on your left. But it seems to dead end at the
mountain. Can that be it?”
“Do you see another one?”
“No, sir. But since that booster shot I’m not seeing anything clearly.
I’m surprised they permitted those shots while we are in the air.”
“That’s all I need to know. I’m setting her down now while we still
can.”
Ostler puts the nose down and the command post begins to undulate
toward the ground like a sea snake. As the plane’s aberrant motion
becomes unmistakable to its passengers, the President presses the
intercom. “I concur with your decision to land early, Jim.”
“Roger that, Mr. President.”
“Amen!” comes from Jackson still clutching the scriptures across the
aisle. A moment later Gabriel confirms that they are cleared to land early
and on proper approach. There is movement ahead near the base of the
mountain.
Colonel Ostler sets the President’s plane down roughly, hitting the
ground with as much speed as he dares. He prays the landing gear holds.
The landing strip turns out to be paved after all. It’s been painted with a
brown substance to make it appear as desert soil. He continues to speed
toward the mountain. Gabriel tells him the AWACS and three special ops
ships are stacked fifteen seconds apart just behind him. He prefers not to
deliver them to the Israelis piggyback.
“You can ease off the throttle, Jim, the last ship is on the ground now,
minus Puff the Magic Dragon. She will remain aloft to cover the
President’s ingress. The hospital ship is carrying an AFSOC team with
enough fire power to do the same thing on the ground, Colonel Gary
Johnson commanding—a former missile troop according to his profile on
Gabriel.” Col. Lance reads this from his heads-up display.
“We’ve met.” “Desert Storm?”
“No, this summer at Franciscan University, Steubenville, Ohio.
Johnson spoke at the Defending the Faith Conference. The man’s a
regular theologian—a fascinating speaker.”
“I look forward to meeting him.”
“Get unstrapped, Bob. Head back there and hit the exit with the
ground troops. I’ll park ol’ Nell alright.”
Colonel Ostler wrestles the stick as he speaks and the violently
vibrating plane finally slows.
“Yes, sir,” Lance affirms. He unbuckles his harness and starts toward
the rear, pausing to see if the plane will actually stop before the vibration
disassembles it and the pieces fall separately to the ground.
“I’ll hold the door for you, Jim,” Lance says, cocking his 9 mm
Beretta pistol with firm resolve. He raises it to the safe & ready position
pointed at the roof. With the index and middle finger of the opposite hand
he signals ‘two’ to the in-flight steward who is handing out Uzis and Colt
AR-15 assault rifles from the Secret Service equipment locker. The
insurgents may have seen a dove grey converted airliner coming, but they
won’t be expecting the President’s private army.
Lance glances down the aisle at tripods being unfolded. Several light
machine guns, large caliber recoilless rifles and grenade launchers
seemingly materialize from thin air. The Service looks grim. This is
where they stop playing, when you shoot at their president.
The plane’s specially designed side windows are fitted with a
removable slotted panel. When trouble arises, the plane’s Crew Chief
installs an explosive cartridge on the forward end of the panel. When
ignited it propels the panel towards the rear where it eventually falls out
leaving the open slot in the plane’s side for use as a small arms firing port.
At the first hostile shot the entire side of the President’s plane will
become an orange wall of fire, the Alamo with wings, if you will, as the
newly created USSS combat defense squad returns fire. God help the
terrorists if the Secret Service finds an opportunity here to vent their
frustration. In addition to the loss of the nation’s Capital, this tragic event
claimed the lives of their own wives and children.
“Just follow your orders, Colonel. Do what I’m going to do: run—you
won’t stop a tactical nuke with that thing.”
“Roger that. I’ll see you inside the hanger, sir, if there is one.”
“Gabriel says there is. Now get out of here, Bob . . . . No, hold on a
minute. There it is . . . land ho!”
As a hole opens up in the side of the mountain, a fleet of speeding
Israeli jeeps rushes out at them. It seems they won’t have to run after all.
Fully two dozen heavily armed Israeli Air Force jeeps descend upon them
forming up on front, side and rear as escort. Others fan out into the desert
scrub along the runway, blasting fifty caliber volleys here and there
against sporadic small arms fire from insurgents well concealed in the
scrub brush and desert ravines.
Orange lights flash rearward from each jeep, shielded top and sides by
blackout visors. Combat-seasoned Israeli’s lead their distinguished
visitors to safety as fast as the jeeps will go, drivers seemingly oblivious
to the zing and whiz of AK-47 rounds that have for the moment replaced
the annoying desert insects in the air around them. Two Israeli machine
gunners are hit and bounce from their vehicles, both retrieved by trailing
jeeps like cowboys rescuing rodeo clowns from the bull.
Terrorist rounds begin to penetrate the shell of Johnson’s plane. It is
not armored as the President’s new plane is. Seatbelts fly off and bodies
begin to stack up in the aisles—bodies, not corpses, for they are as yet
unharmed. Passengers are variously seeking to make themselves smaller
targets by lying on the floor, or they are trying to protect someone beneath
them.
The female med tech, Charlotte Smith, moves forward to assist a
casualty. She is immediately downed with two substantial flesh wounds,
shrapnel wounds in the left side and right thigh—not deep but messy. A
bullet has also grazed a kidney. The resultant pain convinces her that the
wounds are mortal. In her defense, she has no way of knowing otherwise.
Blood is everywhere and she is already faint from the loss of it.
Assuming she will soon be gone, Sgt. Smith continues to tie off
bandages on the wounded airman in front of her. His blood loss is even
worse, and can’t wait. In the next instant she has collapsed backwards into
the arms of Colonel Johnson and Father Bernie who have rushed to her
aid.
“I love you, Colonel,” Charlotte confesses, reaching to touch Johnson
on the cheek. She figures her last words may as well mean something. To
her everlasting embarrassment (that is, until the two are married three
years later) she does not die. They are fortunate to have a first-rate flight
surgeon onboard. Charlotte’s paramedic colleagues very competently
assist him. The flight doc finally manages to stop her bleeding sufficient
to give her a fair shot at survival. The med-techs painfully but
professionally clean and close the wounds as the plane bumps along,
finally applying secure bandages and a tight protective outer wrap.
Charlotte is given morphine for pain and assured that she will live. She
senses the diagnosis is honest, but knows they would tell her the same
thing to increase her morale even if the chances were slim.
Colonel Johnson suggests a double shot of bourbon for good measure.
No point in leaving morale to chance. Charlotte drinks it gratefully (it’s
not her first encounter with Jack Daniels). “Thanks boss. I needed that.”
“Job well done, Sergeant! Air Force Cross, at a minimum. Maybe a
Silver Star.”
He looks over at the young man Charlotte saved, now receiving
plasma. “Tony’s alive because of you. You’re the best man I’ve got,
woman. You stay with us Charlotte; we are almost home free.”
Looking into her eyes, Johnson’s own cloud with emotions he cannot
stop to sort out. The professional response will have to do for now.
“We can’t afford to lose you.”
He crouches to make a dash for the cockpit to see if anyone is left
alive to drive the plane. The folks on the floor aren’t going to like this.
“Oh!” “Oh!” comes from the troops he has stepped on, then twenty
holes appear in rapid succession, slanting down through the skin of the
plane in front of him. Fortunately the burst is well high, except for one
accursed round. Johnson is knocked over, an ugly gaping hole torn
through the back of his shoulder.
“Bottle!”
“You mean, ‘Medic’ don’t you sir?” the lead med tech inquires. He
tends to be a regular occupant of the same bars Johnson frequents. They
have fun without going to excess. He quickly presses his fingers into the
wound against the artery to stem the awful blood loss, and then waves the
flight doc back to work.
“Yes, I’ll take a medic; but I meant ‘bottle.’”
Charlotte smiles, “Pass the bourbon, the Commander has proposed a
toast. To your health, sir.” Charlotte only wets her lips as the surgeon has
now forbidden her to drink anything but water.
“And to yours, Charlotte. May God bless all here!” Johnson assures
the doc that it will only be a symbolic lift of the bottle, but all notice that
the contents ebb substantially.
Charlotte smiles. If you have to go to war with someone, this is the
guy, right here.
Colonel Johnson notices the full beauty of her smile for the first time.
Having missed the meaning of her earlier remark, and not sure in his own
estimate that either she or he will live to see the inside of the Israeli
bunker, let alone ever come out of it, Johnson leans over to kiss her
forehead. He holds a genuine fatherly affection for each of his troops. “I
love you too, Charlotte.”
A breach of military protocol, sure, but if a politician has infiltrated
my special operations unit despite every effort at hand picking a team of
real people . . . well, then, they will just have to kiss my . . .
“Lie down, Colonel,” the flight surgeon. Col. Grace, orders with a
shove of his hand.
“…ass. I mean, Ow! That hurt Doc.”
“Sorry Colonel, but this is not the emergency room at Johns Hopkins,
though I’ve been called names there too. My wife, you know—she was
delivering our first child at the time.” The flight doc smiles through a
professional grimace, continuing to work with great intensity.
“Serves you right,” Charlotte admonishes.
A brilliant smile flashes as the surgeon finishes tying things off.
“Another job well done.” He nods to the med techs to clean and dress the
wound. The flight surgeon crouches, preparing to go forward, but
Charlotte’s hand is on his arm.
“We are very lucky to have you, Doc.”
“Thank you for that.” Grace is one of the very top men in his field. A
National Guard colonel only by choice—his family is quite wealthy—he
volunteered for a special tour of active duty with Project Gabriel. He darts
towards the cockpit to check on the pilot.
“Oh!” “Ow!” “Oh!” “Ow!” “Ouch!” “Oh!” “Ouch!” “Oh!”
Puff, the trailing gunship is last to be escorted into the cavernous
mountain fortress. They were instructed to stay up and hold their fire until
they had mapped the enemy positions as signified by muzzle flashes. This
they accomplished with the usual aplomb and efficiency for which
gunship crews have become famous. Once the dreaded Gatling gun
roared, insurgent fire soon halted.
Few terrorists survived Puff’s first pass. The others elected not to risk
a second, withdrawing into the failing twilight. They were surprised,
however, to find the escape vehicles they had stashed over the rise
knocked out by Puff’s bigger gun, the 40 mm cannon. It will now be a
long walk to the Syrian border.
“This place is huge,” Ostler gasps, looking around, amazed at the
enormous expanse inside. “This has to be the biggest hanger in the
world.”
“According to Gabriel it’s more than a hanger, population 5,500.”
Behind them, several large helicopters float in and unload Israeli
women and children, who are assisted into open-air electric trolleys. The
giant choppers are away again in an instant.
“It looks like they are seeing to the survival of their race,” Col. Lance
observes.
“It looks like they are.”
All except the pilots disembark rapidly. The AWACS pulls in smartly
as directed by Israeli ground crews. It snuggles up behind the President’s
command post, then Johnson’s hospital bird is securely parked, and the
two gunships. Ceiling fans are working hard to ventilate the hanger and
remove the aircraft fuel fumes to the outside air. The section is sealed
from the inhabited areas by a series of over pressured air lock doors,
access to which is gained from the second story portion of the aircraft
parking superstructure.
Clayton carries the wounded sergeant off. Charlotte accepted only a
partial dose of painkiller with the intent to provide small arms support to
the team. She unsnaps her holstered Beretta. Leaning back against
Clayton’s rock solid frame, another “Oh, my!” escapes her lips before her
strength fades.
“I’m going to pass out, Chief.” Clayton has been promoted en route, as
rescue trained personnel are now considered to be at a premium. “Leave
me for the medics and get yourself to safety.” She can just make out three
fuzzy shapes moving towards them.
“Friend!” the Israeli doctor emphasizes, noting shock in her glazed
expression and her white-fingered grip on the raised pistol. He gently
restrains her shooting hand. “You are among friends.”
Danger passed, her last wisp of adrenalin dissipates. Consciousness
goes with it. Charlotte is rolled away on a hospital gurney, the clickclick-click of the wheels steady and brisk, but her spirit moves faster. She
is already standing at the altar of her hometown church, radiant in a
superbly crafted backless white wedding gown, smiling, smiling . . . But
who is the tall man beside me, grasping my hand? She can just make out a
silver eagle on the near shoulder when he turns to say, “I do.”
She will remark for many years thereafter, that is, after the wedding
comes about in just that way: “It was so real.” The defibrillator issues its
first POP! Charlotte’s pulse resumes with the second.
A brief moment after the huge blast doors clang closed and all outside
air vents are sealed, an enormous shudder runs through the mountain. The
President and several others who stood back to make way for the
wounded to be carried out first are thrown into midair while sprinting up
the gantry that leads to the bunker’s second story access door. The
shockwave detached the gantry cleanly at the top. A single large bolt
holding the base structure to the concrete foundation remains, causing the
gantry to rotate wildly from side to side as the ground continues to shake.
Planes are left on their bellies, landing gear snapped. Fortunately, little
fuel remains to pose a fire hazard. Israeli emergency crews, alerted to
expect the worst, were safely strapped into heavy fire trucks when the
tremor struck. They quickly drown the area in water and foam.
Monty, awakened by a mist from the fire hose, rises from the concrete
below with an anguished cry of pain and a grimace terrible to see.
Thinking he should make a brave show of things, he manages to hobble a
few steps, but, with a severe skull fracture, a dislocated shoulder, broken
femur, and internal injuries soon collapses, out cold. Most of the others
lay still, either by choice or necessity.
***
“Kids! KIDS!!” Elizabeth collapses in tears, having just resolved not
to show panic to the children. The doorbell! Thank God! It’s Margaret,
with David and Jeanette.
“What’s wrong Mom?” Julia asks.
“Nothing dear, but we have to leave.”
Margaret whispers the latest update in Elizabeth’s ear: “The grapevine
tells Steve that terrorists may attack Indianapolis at any time. We have to
move out now, go somewhere safe, anywhere away from the cities.”
Elizabeth instructs her daughter. “Run upstairs, Julia. Get your favorite
clothes, teddy and a toothbrush, and then jump into the car. We’re going
to drive all the way to . . . uh . . . Disneyland! We’ll play name the bird on
the way, and you can get a rainbow pop from Cracker Barrel. It’ll be fun.
Maybe Dad will meet us there.”
“Hurray!”
Elizabeth doesn’t know why she said that; her rule is to always tell
them the truth—but it’s working. Perhaps it’s because they may only have
one shot to get out in time before the next bomb goes off and a little fib is
of small concern if it helps to avoid being at ground zero. She has already
packed the children’s clothes for a long stay, but elects not to raise any
alarms while teaching them some self-reliance.
Jonathan has remained behind to ask a question. “Mom?”
“Yes, son?”
“Can we take Dad’s gun? He might need it to shoot the terrorists. And,
Steve’s too, looks like he has a whole bag of them in the closet!”
“They’re not guns dear—at least I don’t think they are—but we’ll find
Dad’s just in case. Run and get your stuff too. Disneyland is waiting for
us!”
Jonathan is off like a shot, and back to wait on the sofa long before
sister who can’t decide which of the Lion King T-shirts she likes the best.
Elizabeth and Margaret come back from the bedroom with an
enormous revolver.
“That’s it Mom! Did you get the bullets?”
“Yes, Jon. We’re not afraid of no stinking terrorists are we?” She
places a Cuban cigar in her mouth and the large pistol under the belt of
her Levi’s, then briskly salutes her son.
Jon returns it smartly. “No, sir!”
“Load your stuff in the back of the car, Captain, we have to get
started.”
“Can I Mom?” Jon’s eyes open wide with the unexpected good news.
“Can you what, dear?”
“Can I be a captain?”
“Yes, you can be a captain. I’ll be right back.”
She jogs off to the wardrobe to take something from one of Joe’s
uniforms. It’s a sparkling silver munitions specialist badge: an eagle in
flight carrying a bomb.
“I award you this wartime promotion to captain, specializing in
terrorists!” She makes a big deal out of it, pinning the badge on his shirt
and shaking his hand vigorously.
Jonathan snaps to attention, salutes, and runs out to the car with his
bag. That was great. He attended Dad’s last promotion ceremony. Now,
I’ll just have to start digging into the nuts and bolts of the job.
“At that rate, he’ll be a general soon,” Margaret observes. “He’s a
good son, Elizabeth, you should be very proud of him.”
“That I am. I don’t think I’ll have to promote him to general, however;
he’ll probably be a real one.
Elizabeth looks down at the huge gun she is holding, raising an
eyebrow. She cracks an uneven smile of uncertainty. “Margaret, can you
shoot? I don’t know how to use this thing?” Elizabeth hands the
intimidating weapon towards her friend.
Margaret raises her hand to refuse. “Huh-uh”
“Give me that,” David, says, “before you hurt yourself.” He removes
the gunlock and expertly checks the gun, confirming it is loaded.
“Smith & Wesson .50 caliber magnum. This will stop a truck. Does
Joe have any more guns? They’ll be valuable items to trade if money fails
for a while, according to Ralph down at the store.”
“I don’t know. Let’s go look, but we’ll have to hurry. Come on.”
Assisted by Margaret , David, and Jeanette, Elizabeth rummages
through the drawers and closets. They find only a small Beretta Bobcat
.22 caliber pistol that looks like a toy.
“I remember now, Joe bought this for me a few years back, but I was
afraid of it.”
“Is it real?” Margaret asks, passing the tiny gun to David in the palm
of her hand.
“Eight shots real,” David confirms. He knows guns. “We’ll buy some
cartridges on the way out.”
“That’s it then, let’s get moving.”
“You’ll have to teach us to shoot, David, when we have time,”
Elizabeth requests.
“Roger that,” his mother agrees.
“No problem.”
The phone rings.
“Hello Steve. Yes, we’re leaving now.”
“Take the bags in the closet, Elizabeth. They’re for you; that’s why I
put them there. Sorry I had to lie to you. Radiation pills, water, food and
gas masks. Strap the mask carrier pouch on under your arm and keep them
ready. If the air looks or smells funny, or if people are acting odd or have
symptoms, get the mask on as fast as you can. It could save your life.
Adjust the straps evenly until you get an airtight seal.”
“Do the masks help with radiation?”
“No, not really, they are made for chemicals, poison gas. Take the
Nuke-Protect iodine and seaweed tablets for radiation. They make a
difference. Buy several bottles on the way out of town at the health food
stores. They should still be in stock. Not everyone knows the stores carry
it. Keep taking the tablets until you are in clean air (if there is any left)
and you start to feel better. Head for the northern tier air bases: Montana
and the Dakotas. They should have refugee camps set up soon. Move into
the mountains of Canada if, God forbid, the situation worsens. We fear
more truck bombs across the middle of the country.”
“Thank you, Steve, for the bags and advice. Any word on the men?”
“I can’t be specific, but I think they have found shelter. Just keep
yourself and the little ones safe until they get back.”
“We’ll do our best. What about Susan?”
“Do you have room for her?” He holds his breath. According to his
sources, there’s a fifty-fifty chance this area will be glowing within the
week.
“We’re taking two cars, Steve: one wagon, one van. We have room.
Shall we drive over and pick her up? We’re leaving now. You know she’s
welcome. I can’t win Trivial Pursuit without my city librarian partner!”
“God bless you, Elizabeth! That’s what I was hoping you would say.
Yes, please, and the sooner you start the better the chance of finding
enough gasoline to get you there. The whole state is under an evacuation
order. I’ll tell her to get ready. Oh, take the county roads; they’re less
likely to be jammed than the highways. It’s a mess out there already.”
“OK Steve, we’re leaving. You take care.”
“Goodbye, Elizabeth. Tell the kids I said to have fun.” And goodbye
Jon and Julia, he says silently. He’ll probably never see the little tykes
again this side of heaven. Never give up! He remembers reading that on a
Gulf War Illness Web page back in the ’90s. Never give up! He prays that
this can all somehow miraculously work out. If God can show me the way
out of Gulf War Illness, he can manage this too.
David and Jeanette load Steve’s heavy bags into the back of the van
and they start off across town. Halfway there, Pam and Hugh pull up
alongside them at the stoplight. Garfield is behind them on a motorcycle.
“Garfield!” The kids shout, banging on the window glass. “We’re
going to Disneyland! We’re going to Disneyland!”
“Can I come too?” Garfield asks with a glance to Elizabeth, posing
two questions, one, in fun, to the kids, and one to Elizabeth for real. “My
bike is on its last leg. It gets me around town, but can’t handle road trips.”
“Why not,” Elizabeth says. “You have always been part of the family.
I would think twice if I were a terrorist before attacking a group with you
in it.”
Garfield does a Hulk-flex of his arms, chest and shoulders. “Grrrr.”
“Hurray!” comes from the children in the back seat.
There is a sporting goods store at the corner and Elizabeth pulls off to
park. Garfield follows. David runs in for ammunition.
“Garfield, there’s a place for you right back there between the kids.
Get in.”
Garfield parks his bike and retrieves the heavy saddlebags he has
packed full of camp stove fuel and dehydrated food. This will be more
comfortable than biking wintry roads up north—or more likely
hitchhiking after the old bike fails. He also has a dozen Israeli gas masks,
purchased from the Internet. Garfield was forewarned by private
revelations that something was coming. He’s been packed for months.
The old van sighs audibly as he climbs aboard.
Pam is talking to Jeannette about something. Apparently Hugh’s car is
not running well. It seems unwise to take the time to repair it, with the
mass exodus underway. They decide to park it and join Margaret and the
teenagers in the new Volvo wagon.
Glancing out at the steadily building traffic flow as she hurriedly
buckles in, Pam notices a beautiful green Hummer pull in smartly beside
the parked motorcycle.
“Wanna buy a bike, cheap?” Garfield offers out the van window to the
unseen H2 driver.
“No, thanks,” comes the reply. “Can you tell me where The Beanery
is? I’m looking for a guy named Clayton Delaney.” He extends his head
out the window, proffering the ACTS business card Clayton had given
him in Bloomington.
“Mike!” Pam recognizes their bartender through the windshield.
“Hi Pam! Need a drink?”
“Yes, I think we all do. We’re evacuating the state. What are you
doing?”
“The same thing. I was heading north, so I thought I would swing by
and check on the Christian team. I’m driving to Canada. It’s my best
guess for a safe spot.”
Mike is towing a horse trailer and has a U-Haul luggage case full of
cold weather gear strapped on top. The inside of his H2 is packed with
food, water, guns and ammunition.
“A quick stop by the nearest army surplus store for a gas mask and I’m
out of here. Where are the others?”
“Recalled to active duty. They’re deployed, location unknown. Check
with Garfield about a gas mask, he has some extra ones.”
“Who has extra gas masks?” It’s Ralph, the storeowner. He is David’s
baseball coach and has stepped out to see him off. David works part-time
at the store as a stocker.
“I do,” Garfield says stepping out of the van to retrieve one from the
back for Mike. “The question is, what have you got?”
Ralph watches as Garfield stretches, slowly straightening to his full
height. “Caught in a growth spurt as a kid, huh?”
“Don’t start, Grandpa,” Garfield admonishes staring down at Ralph as
if from an immense height.
“OK, OK. Only kidding. I have guns, fishing poles, sleeping bags,
tents . . . . Am I getting warm? I could sure use a couple medium masks
for the wife and I.”
“We have handguns,” Garfield remarks. “How about this. I’ll give you
four masks. In these troubled times the extra two should be of enough
value to get back more than we’re asking, if you trade them smartly. You
give us three large tents, two fly rods, some trot lines, ten zero degree
sleeping bags, two sharp axes, and a sniper, I mean hunting, rifle with
scope and ammo. Take it or leave it.”
“I don’t know. That’s a lot of merchandise.”
Ralph looks out at the dense traffic evacuating the city with a
mischievous gleam in his eye. “ . . . Well, OK, I’ll . . . I’ll take it,” he
concedes reluctantly. “Go get what you want from the store. But let’s
have those masks first.”
“Done.”
David says, “I can take care of it faster, Garfield. I have the shelves
memorized.” He runs into the store to get the items requested. He knows
sporting goods. He makes five trips, finally returning with a Winchester
.270 cal. rifle with red dot scope and a small net bag holding several
boxes of ammo.
“If you miss with this, you can’t shoot,” David says, handing it to
Garfield. He’s spent a lot of time in the field hunting with Dad. His own
rifle is the same. I sighted the scope in myself. It is illegal to hunt with a
high powered rifle in Indiana, but some folks keep them for survival or
take varmints that have been causing problems on their farms. People get
nervous for their livestock, pets, and kids way out of town there, though
large predators are almost never seen in the state. Doesn’t mean it won’t
happen next week, though. Wolves and mountain lions are starting to
come back, expanding east again.
Garfield nods. “I read that on the Web recently. Hey, David, I don’t
even go out of town. I stick to civilization, though we have our own kind
of predators here. He places the rifle securely in the van alongside the
other two, David’s identical Winchester .270 and Clayton’s custom Ruger
SR-762 .308. “I can shoot though. Runs in the family. That Ruger SR is
an awfully nice piece.”
“Yep,” David agrees, followed by Ralph’s, “It sure is. One of the best.
Hated to see that one go, but gave Clayton a good deal because of his
service. Just a little heavy for me, but Clayton wouldn’t notice more than
a toothpick. I shoot the new DPMS second generation RECON in .308.
Only weighs seven pounds and a quarter. Got a beautiful scope for it and
attached a bipod. Handle just about any threat short of a fighter jet or
Panzer.”
Garfield playfully grips Ralph by the shoulder and trapezoid. “Not just
your ordinary rickety old retired grandpa are you Ralph? More there than
meets the eye.”
“So I like to believe, big guy. What I want to know is what a guy your
size needs with a gun in the first place?”
“Well you just never know these days, do you Ralph? Look at what’s
going on out there for instance—evacuating the entire state. Who
expected that to happen?”
“Good point. Good point.” Ralph shakes his head, then turns to see a
new Ford 350 pickup pull in towing a beautiful camper. The elderly driver
is Ralph’s wife Ethel. Ethel climbs down from the wheel and Ralph takes
her place. Ralph winks at David who runs back into the store and returns
with two large duffle bags and his pockets stuffed full of something. He
dumps the contents into the van, and returns for yet more supplies.
“Put the sign up, dear,” Ralph requests with another wink. “I’ll do a
final check on the engine and tires before we start out.” Ethel steps inside
the store and hangs a large white sign in the window that reads “Help
yourself, everything’s free! We’re out of here!”
David has been told to go in and remove any remaining guns. Ralph
and Ethel drive off, leaving the door to the store open.
“Go get what you want,” David tells the others. “Whatever’s left is
free for the taking.”
The women run in to grab some insulated hunting clothes, thermal
underwear, gloves, a camp stove, cold weather face shields, and two
miniature snowmobile suits for the kids. Garfield is still shaking his head
and mumbling about the everything’s free sign when they come back.
“Out maneuvered by an old grandpa…”
“Mike, come over here for a minute,” Margaret says, which he does.
She extends her hand. “I’m Clayton’s wife, Margaret.”
Elizabeth walks up to join the powwow.
“Canada is our backup plan,” Margaret continues. “The northern tier
air bases, Idaho, Montana and the Dakotas are our first stop. They should
have refugee camps set up by the time we get there. It could be a lot more
comfortable than roughing it in the Canadian mountains in winter. At the
first sign of a threat, we can move further north. How about it, Mike?
Want to tag along? There’s safety in numbers?”
“Your logic is good . . . and it feels right. Clayton would probably
want me to tag along to look after camp security. If you folks hit trouble
down the road I would be pretty uncomfortable trying to explain to your
husbands how I had a chance to pitch in and didn’t do it. Lead the way.”
“Thanks for helping Mike. Liz and I aren’t exactly shrinking violets,
but the world’s gotten awfully dangerous all of a sudden. Having some
outdoor male types along will makes us feel a whole lot safer. Try to stay
behind us as we pull out. We have to pick up a friend six blocks north,
first, and stop by the health food store for some Nuke-Protect tablets.
Then we’ll get underway.”
“You can skip the Nuke-Protect, I have two cases in the car.”
“Great! Let’s get going.”
Garfield comes running out of the store with hunting knives,
compasses, hand warmers, rain ponchos, more thermal underwear,
propane tanks, canteens and a lantern. He’s now wearing a top of the line
Camelback backpack stuffed with walkie-talkies and bags of trail mix.
“That old guy tricked me. I can’t believe it. I could’ve traded those
masks for a small fortune.”
“You did trade them for a small fortune. Get in.” Elizabeth pulls
smartly out into traffic, heading north to Steve’s house.
Margaret looks back over her shoulder with a sigh as she begins to
back out, already feeling homesick. She notices her son is not there.
“Where’s David?”
Jeanette points out the window, rolling her eyes. “He wants to be
Rambo.”
“Hold on Mom!” David shouts, lumbering out of the store. He has the
biggest gun that she has ever seen in one hand and an expensive short
wave radio set in the other.
“Isn’t it a beauty? A World War II vintage .45 caliber Thompson with
drum magazine and tripod—fully automatic. A classic collector’s piece.
Ralph gave it to me, Mom. It’s must be worth a fortune! Can you believe
it?” And the thing works, he doesn’t say.
“Put it in the back with the rest. You can go bear hunting later. Did he
give you any bullets for it?” She glances casually back over the seats
having given no thought to ‘fully automatic.’
“Yeah, a few” he says, patting two overstuffed duffle bags resting just
out of his mother’s line of sight.
They are away in the next moment, hurrying to catch up with
Elizabeth. Mike falls in behind, having seen to his horses during the
delay.
CHAPTER 7
Counterstrike
“Frank, stay with me. If my voice fades it may not be a weak
connection: I’m recovering from a concussion. Someone was kind enough
to drop a tactical nuke on our doorstep after we landed,” General Wiles
informs his Chief of Staff.
“Ouch!”
“By all rights I should be dead, but the Israelis have come up with an
impressive new shelter concept. Thanks be to God the darn thing works!
Where are you?”
“In the Midwest checking our force structure and trying to regroup.”
“Good. Listen to me, Frank. We’re reviewing the strike reports from
the stealth missions. We think we’ve taken out all the nuke launchers
meant to play in this game. On the other hand, if another launcher turns up
in Syria or Iran, they probably won’t get a third chance: look for bright
flashes on the horizon. This is for your ears only: the President may not
make it. We lost a couple of pilots and our planes are out of commission
for now. Still, it could have been worse.
“Frank, it looks like you are going to have to run the Ponderosa until
we get back. Think you can handle Commander, HQ CONUS?”
“I will handle any job that you drop in my lap, General. That’s what
the taxpayers and the children expect their uniformed soldiers to do.”
“Good. That’s what I hoped you would say. We have more senior
officers scattered around the country, but the President prefers to leave
existing leadership in place in the field, at base and command level, and
for the joint task forces. Those guys and gals may end up having to act
independently solely upon their own initiative. If that happens, they will
need the accrued field level expertise, technical competence, unit mission
familiarity, and seniority to pose a capable defense and counterstrike
effort from where they sit. Now is not the time to play musical chairs and
set everyone down in a new job that they don’t know a thing about. In
short, headquarters units are going to have to manage with headquarters
weenies; that is basically what the President said.”
“I’ll do my best, sir. I had a good teacher.”
“I hope he wasn’t too hard on you.”
“Just hard enough to make the lesson stick, General.”
“You always were a good kid, Frank—the son I never had. What are
you, forty something now I guess?”
“Something like that. I don’t feel more than twenty-five.”
“You will when the adrenalin wears off, trust me. What’s the radiation
level there in the Midwest?”
“Just livable for a short visit. Extended exposure is extremely
dangerous—it’s getting worse as we speak.”
“Let’s not do that to our people, Frank. Attach the deployment centers’
personnel across the Midwest to your headquarters and get them out of
there. The radiation monitoring and decon teams will be moving in soon.
The civilian population is already moving out. There’s nothing there to
manage except refugee traffic.”
“Consider it done. I can use the extra staff to organize new regional
operation centers, once we find a safe location. I was able to raise
NorthCom in Colorado on a satellite phone, and we have some personal
cell phones still working. We’re setting up communications protocols to
coordinate actions and maintain an ongoing liaison. Most of their field
troops, of course, have deployed to render assistance to the disaster areas.
They have enough fire power left at home, however, to form quite a few
strike teams if needed.”
“Great. Looks like you’re getting on top of the situation. It’s a great
comfort having someone with your capabilities there to handle things
while the CINC and I are stuck here out of battery.
“Oh, hey, one more thing. Our new chaplain here advises me that you
have a Chief Master Sergeant Steven Garger in West Lafayette, Indiana
running the regional deployment center. Garger and our chaplain are old
friends. Whatever you do, don’t tell the chief that Father Bernie and his
friends from West Lafayette are all safely bunkered at a friendly base in
the Middle East. Why, he might tell the whole parish that they are OK,
and they would stop worrying. Who knows what terrible repercussions to
national security might ensue if that got out. You do understand me, don’t
you Frank?”
“Loud and clear, General Wiles, loud and clear. And . . . General . . .
I’m sorry . . . for your loss. Katherine was a lovely woman, and a good
friend.”
“Thanks for that, Frank. You’re doing a great job. We’re counting on
you to hold things together until we get back to CONUS. Check in every
twelve hours. You’re promoted to two-star effective immediately. Now go
kick some butt!”
“Thank you, General! I’ll call you in twelve.”
“Don’t be too surprised. At the rate things are moving, I might have
your third star for you soon. Battlefield promotions occur as needed and
Monty is a take care of business kind of President. Keep the faith. Wiles
Out.”
“Out.”
“Thanks General, I owe you one,” Father Bernie says.
“You’re welcome, Father. When are we meeting again, for coffee?”
“Tomorrow, 7 pm, in the cafeteria. Quite a few of the Israelis are
coming.”
“I hoped they would.”
“They’ve been blessed with private revelations; there is even a few
bonafide charisms in that group. They’re fired up. They believe God is
firmly guiding events and they fully intend to get this right. The number
of messianic Jews here is climbing each day, by the way,” Father Bernie
reveals.
“Thanks be to God! You know, Father, they have been talking about
making a suicidal charge out of here to the relief of their soon to be
heavily embattled forces in the North, something like King Theoden
charging out of Helm’s Deep in The Lord of the Rings.”
“They’re a romantic bunch; heroism must run in their blood. I see why
the Lord loved them so much.”
“I see it too. Let’s check on the President. You said he surfaced
momentarily and asked for Viaticum, the final Eucharistic sacrament?”
“Yes, I’m on my way there now. Let’s talk as we walk. Time may be
short for our President.”
They head off toward the infirmary at a brisk pace. The general’s head
swims a little; he is forced to slow down. “Just a moment, Father, I need
to regain visual focus. I should never have let that quack Johnson
prescribe Jack Daniels for a concussion. Whew!”
“He’s got a long track record of malpractice.”
“We played a few hands of poker last night in the infirmary in between
the surges in emergency message traffic. He took me for $65! That ammo
crowd who work out at the base bomb dumps, they’re all card sharks you
know, especially the missile guys. You have to watch your wallet.”
“I’ll jot that down for future reference,” Father Bernie chuckles.
“You’re a good man, Father Bernie. I’m putting in a word with the
Lord on your behalf.”
“It couldn’t hurt—he use to listen to George Patton.”
“Speaking of military geniuses, Colonel Yosef has been toying with
some hare-brained scheme he has dreamed up. He wants to discuss it with
us in private. Yosef’s trademark throughout his career with Mossad and
the IDF has been wild ideas and risky plans. Inconceivably, so far they
have all managed to work out.”
“I’ve heard that too,” Father Bernie affirms. “Sometimes the resolve
and commitment of the people implementing a plan are as important as
the genius of those who designed it. Josef is one of those hard-charging
guys who just makes things work. He doesn’t quit. Christ had a crazy
notion once. It seemed hare-brained to the authorities and experts of his
time. He called it eternal salvation. Despite all the foolish mistakes of the
people down here he’s been trying to help, he still hasn’t given up on his
plan.”
“Right.”
“Tell the Base Commander I look forward to meeting him at his
earliest convenience.”
“Will do, Father.”
“While we’re on the subject of God hearing our prayers, General,
how’s your faith doing through all of this?”
“I’ll tell you in Confession, Father, when I’ve completed the
instruction program and joined the Catholic Church!” General Wiles
announces this triumphantly as something he is very proud of. He then
leans over and whispers more quietly, “The thought of that first
confession scares me to death.”
While cognizant of the humor inherent in the nation’s senior combat
leader being scared silly of the confessional, General Wiles is being
genuinely candid. Fear of confessing is a universal, though rationally
unfounded fear. Father Bernie is used to dealing with it.
“Don’t worry too much about it, General. Keep it simple. Do take an
honest look at your life, however. Check the important stuff, the Ten
Commandments. Read the catechism’s discussions of sin. Mortal sins
should always be addressed in confession. The Vatican encourages us to
bring even the smaller sins to confession as well, to be thorough, but some
of the parishes in the United States tend not to encourage that as much,
reminding us that our venial sins are forgiven in the Mass and that we
should not be psychologically compulsive about guilt. We should, rather,
trust fully in God’s mercy.
“Perhaps the wise middle ground there is to bring the stubbornly
recurring venial sins to Confession. Those are the ones that threaten to
become a vice, producing troublesome, long term attachments. Those are
the ones we need the most help with, and God strengthens us every time
we meet him in the Holy Sacrament of Confession, now called
Reconciliation.
“Both approaches are valid provided you select the method for its
strength and not its weakness, and provided, of course, that one succeeds
in identifying important sins so that healing can occur. I personally tend to
follow the late Pope John Paul II’s example and go to confession every
week, erring on the side of caution.
“Priests have sins!!!? I didn’t know that.”
“Priests are human too, so, of course they have sins. They are fighting
the same battle against Satan and the human tendency to sin as everyone
else. What moves the priest to more frequent Confession perhaps, though,
is not that they have more sins, which wouldn’t make much sense, but that
they are such experts on sin and so sensitive to offending the Lord that
they notice things the rest of us miss. God, of course, sets a higher
standard for them.
“What is a small matter for lay persons who are distracted with the
demands of daily life, who don’t know the rules nearly as well, and who
haven’t been given the transformational gifts of a holy character that the
Holy Spirit indelibly imprints upon every priest, is a larger concern for the
priest. He should know better and he is expected to set a high example for
others.
“One objective of Confession, often overlooked, is that its purpose is
not so much to bring in a “grocery list” of sins committed at specific
places and times, but to identify the deeper attitudes and tendencies we
have within us that spawn repeated occurrences of sins. Until we address
the permissive attitude or the tendency within ourselves to condone sin,
we are not being fully honest with God, or even with ourselves. Healing
and reconciliation are therefore not fully accomplished.
“The objective in Confession is to make steady progress towards
expiating our sins once and for all. Overall, forward progress in a
Christian’s personal growth is possible and expected, despite the fact that
we will sometimes slip back into sin. We are not condemned if our sins
recur while we are honestly struggling against them, but when we stop
struggling to expiate our sins permanently, when we begin to tolerate their
presence as OK, taking on a permissive attitude that treats sin as a trivial
formality that gets rubber stamped in Confession then we are in big
trouble. Confession is not a rubber stamp procedure. It is an extraordinary
grace of forgiveness and healing extended by a loving God who is fully
good to his human children, children who have seriously rebelled against
him in doing something selfish, evil, hateful, or immoral.
“Rebellion against God is not trivial. Doing evil and immoral things or
selfishly hurting others is not trivial. Forgiveness of our sins is not
something we merit based upon our own goodness; it is a freely given,
unmerited gift that God offers us out of unconditional love. When we
have committed a mortal sin we go into Confession literally with a death
sentence. Our behavior justly deserves that sentence. But, through the
pure grace and goodness of God we come out of Confession with a
reprieve, with eternal life restored to us and with our sick soul
substantially healed.
“Being reprieved from a justly imposed death sentence and
simultaneously having our hearts and souls healed and converted back to
good from evil is not a trivial rubber stamp event! It’s a magnificent event
worthy of great celebration!
“In this holy event, the Sacrament of Confession, or Reconciliation, as
it is now called, we are called to acknowledge that we, yes we, are in fact
sick and criminal. We should enter Confession with the recognition that
we urgently need forgiveness and healing deep in our souls. The term
‘mortal sin’ means a sin worthy of a death sentence, an eternal
banishment to hell where we will be separated from the light and love of
God, which is life itself.
“Of course, priests and pastors, the leaders of our churches, the pope,
the cardinals and the bishops are simply going to catch things that busy
working folks will frequently miss, such as lack of charity in a brief
personal interchange with someone, a moment where one might have
been more kind and supportive, for example. Often, and incorrectly, many
busy working men and women wouldn’t give these things a moment’s
thought; they only take time to look at major events and significant
interpersonal exchanges. These oversights aren’t usually of acts that
constitute mortal sins, but of negative attitudes or sinful thoughts.
Attitudes and thoughts, however, can constitute sins in the spirit.
“Only an honest examination of one’s moral conscience will reveal
whether the sin was serious or minor, mortal or venial. The Catechism of
the Catholic Church has an excellent little section on dealing with sin.
I’ve got an extra copy in my room, I’ll mark it for you and drop it on your
desk.
“Thanks, Father. That’s very kind,” General Wiles responds,
struggling to digest all of this in real time..
“No problem, General. I know I have burdened you with a lot to think
about, but most new Catholics looking at that first Confession would
rather have more info than less. It can be a bit of a daunting experience.
“Yes, it really is, and I do prefer the info.”
“Here’s a short cut that simplifies the whole thing: love. Stay centered
in the love of Christ and you will see clearly how to deal with sin. If, as
Christ so eloquently said, loving God with all our heart and our neighbor
as much as ourselves are the two greatest commandments,
commandments, commandments which sum up the entire law and the
prophets, then failure to love God and to love the people around us each
day is not only a sin, but the sin, the most basic and important one. On the
other hand, if we genuinely love God and others at the deepest level of
our souls, we will never permit ourselves to commit the sins of the Ten
Commandments.
“When the pope or a bishop catches himself slipping out of a lovecentered, generous, friendly, and charitable spirit in an exchange with
another of God’s children he may feel it to be grounds for Confession
although he hasn’t visibly done much of anything at all, only exchanged a
few words and barely moved an inch. Sin, mortal sin at least, has more to
do with what is inside us in our hearts and spirits than what we do with
our hands and legs—and mouths. Mortal sin concerns what we intended
to do of our own free choice after deliberating, not what we have done
unknowingly or inadvertently. We should take precautions against
accidentally doing something wrong, yes, but it is the times when we had
a chance to rationally deliberate beforehand, and chose to go ahead and do
a bad thing, knowing it was wrong, that mortal sin is incurred.
“Being willing to commit a sin in our hearts and minds is a sin even if
we never get an opportunity to do the sinful act. Therefore, in doing the
examination of our conscience required to prepare for Confession, and in
doing the similar examination that we should perform daily to determine
if we need to go to Confession, we must spend at least as much time
looking inside ourselves at our emotional and spiritual condition as we do
making an inventory of our outward behaviors and actions.
“Thanks Father, that helps a lot. In essence, you are saying that the
presence of love has a healing effect that defeats sin. That suggests to me
that love can be a real shortcut to ridding ourselves of bad habits.”
“Exactly right. To rid oneself of a bad habit, something good has to
take its place, and love is the best thing we have available. The truths of
the faith are emotional truths after all. It is the heart, not the head that
must grasp them.
“Wherever the light of love doesn’t shine, the darkness of evil and sin
is free to remain. So, simply trying to avoid sin is not enough to win the
battle. It is like running from one dark room to the next because you know
darkness is wrong without ever stopping to turn on the light. Christian
faith is a proactive thing more than an avoidance thing; we have to turn on
the light of Christian love. When we do that, obeying the Ten
Commandments comes naturally. ”
“Do these things and you will live,” comes from Wiles—one of his
favorite verses.
Father lowers his head, feeling the power of the citation. “You are a
quick study, General. You will do well in the Church.
“The thing to remember is that Confession is a joyous healing
experience that renews our friendship with God and restores eternal life!
But it will also deliver us from demonic attacks by restoring the light and
love of Christ as the center of our lives.”
“Thanks be to God!”
“As far as the details of the form of the Confession procedures, now
called the Holy Sacrament of Reconciliation, what you have to do and
say, I have one of the Church’s booklets that explains it all in my room. It
is Catholic Update CU 0176, I think. I’ll drop it in your mailbox.
Confession is easy and simple, not much to it in terms of complexity, but
as a Holy Sacrament we must take the time to learn how to perform it in a
respectful manner.”
“Thank you, Father, you have been a great help.” They stop at the door
of the President’s private room.
“I’ll leave you to administer the final sacrament. I’m going to walk
down to the temporary chapel and light a candle for the boss.”
Father Bernie is again moved by the Spirit. He is looking at a man of
faith. He performs the sign of the cross over General Wiles in blessing,
and then quietly turns to enter the President’s room. A young Israeli nurse
gently restrains his wrist as he approaches Monty’s bed. “The President’s
coma is not so deep, Father, but his condition is not strong. If he should
wake, do not task him. These instructions come from far above our Base
Commander. Monty’s doctor concurs. We have just lost our leader; we do
not want to lose yours. A neurologist will fly in tomorrow. Until then, the
less the President is disturbed, the better.”
“I understand. May God bless you for your concern. You’re a good
nurse,” Father says through welling tears for his president. Father Bernie
has always been a patriot. His arm automatically reaches out to form the
salvific cross over this young angel of mercy who has been so tenderly
watching over his Commander-in-Chief.
Compassionate, though agnostic, she is poignantly touched by the
blessing. Looking up in the wondrous joy of first realization of God, she
begins to scurry off to the chapel as a six-year-old might rush through the
gate of Disneyland, flailing her arms in joyous celebration.
She pauses, looking back over her shoulder with a teary smile,
simultaneously asking and affirming, “God is real?”
“God is real”
“He loves us?”
“Yes. He loves us very much.”
Welling emotions break out into a flood of tears. For lack of anywhere
else to go, the nurse falls into Father Bernie’s arms as if he were her
natural parent.
Father shares her tears for a moment. The joy of first conversion is
powerfully contagious. What a precious child!
She steps back a moment to look Father frankly in the eye. The cloud
of emotion has been replaced by a crystal clarity that only those free of all
guile and malice can ever attain. In her innocence the President’s kindhearted nurse has immediately intuited a truth that degreed theologians
often take decades to learn.
“But this is too wonderful. All problems are solved!”
“Yes. All solved.”
She dissolves back into his arms again, then, remembering her charge,
the U.S. President, bounces away.
“Oh, I’m sorry, you have to…” She points to Monty. “Thank you. I’m
going to pray. Thank you.”
***
A tall man with sandy hair approaches Steve’s desk through the open
door to the hallway.
OMG! Three stars!
“Chief Garger?”
“Yes sir.”
“Lieutenant General Frank O’Connor, Commander, HQ CONUS. I
represent the Chief of Staff, General Wiles, who is out of the country.”
“Yes, sir . . . but . . . ”
“You can say it.”
“Weren’t you a colonel three weeks ago?”
“I was. After the destruction of the Pentagon, what’s left of Congress
passed emergency measures granting field promotion authority for flag
officers to the President and the Joint Chiefs, removing all time in grade
requirements and permitting the service to delegate that authority further
down to field level as situations dictate. Until the war ends, Congress will
review our senior officer promotions, but they aren’t authorized to
overturn them short of an impeachable offense.”
“So…we got hurt.”
“We got hurt. Listen, Chief, to make a long story short, we’re heading
north to regroup and reorganize, ‘strategically advancing to the rear,’ as
they say—and you’re coming with us. Your people will remain under
your supervision, but I’m putting you in charge of my CONUS
redeployment operation. You’ll be in-briefed in two hours and we’ll be on
the road to Minot North Dakota in three. Understood?”
“Understood, sir. We have all been pre-packed for days, just in case.”
“Right. Be at the HQ van parked outside in two hours. Oh, by the way,
there’s something I’m not supposed to tell you.”
“Oh?”
“Father Bernie and his two friends are safely bunkered in the Middle
East for the moment—but you didn’t hear it from me, understood?”
“Understood, General. This conversation never took place.”
“It did not. See you in two hours, Steve. Jot down any thoughts you
have on managing CONUS personnel in this mess in the meantime.”
“Will do, General. Many thanks.”
A priest passes the general on the way out, offering a crisp salute
despite being long since retired. He steps into Steve’s plainly furnished
office and scans the room blankly for a moment, his mouth open,
breathing heavily. The priest grabs the arm of a padded chair for support
then turning and bending at the waist plants his other hand in the seat to
stabilize himself after a near faint.
“Father Herman! You’re not well. Have a seat. Here, I’ll get you some
water.”
“Thanks Steve, how are you fixed for Nuke Protect?”
Father Herman’s head lags in his chair. He is rapidly fading from
radiation exposure.
“Over there on the south wall. Take a few cases with you when you
go. Father, don’t get up; take two from my vitamin box for now. That’ll
get you started. How’s the evacuation coming?”
“Excellent! It should finish itself up. Whew! Give me just a second.”
He drinks some water and Steve hands him a foam cup with coffee. He
guzzles it straight down.
“There, that’s better. Yes, we are in good shape. We set up a pyramid
style team to canvas the neighborhoods and alert everyone to leave. Each
team member finds at least two others to team build, and so on. They each
launch two new teams, spend the maximum exposure time alerting others,
and then exit the contaminated zones. Residents who already have
maximum exposure are asked only to notify those they would naturally
pass as they are leaving, usually nobody as they won’t be rolling down the
windows of their vehicle. But, it’s working. We’ve got a hundred people
going door-to-door here in town, and another hundred going from town to
town, starting new pyramids. The entire state should be canvassed within
days. I’m out of here first light tomorrow. Heading to Canada in my new
jeep.”
Smiling, Father Herman pumps his thumb between the index and
middle finger near the opposite bicep to simulate a shot.
“I reach my thirty year service date the seventeenth of next month. By
the time the Pentagon gets that far down the activation list, I won’t be on
it! I always wanted to fish the Upper Peninsula. I ordered a stock of fish
lures that can’t miss: Rapalas, silver, gold, short, long, divers, skimmers,
the whole set. Bought an old fixer upper cabin just over the Michigan line
on the west shore. It needs a roof and a porch but the chimney and cellar
are intact, bed, table and cupboard built-in. No more than twenty yards to
the lake. A small boat came with it.
“Can you hear the reels singing, Steve? Smell the fresh bass on the
grill? There’s a fresh water stream feeding into the lake just over the rise.
I have a case of vegetable seeds and some tools for the garden. It’ll be like
Henry David Thoreau on his best day!”
“My money is still in the bank,” Steve responds, grinning.
“Won’t do you any good there.”
Steve offers Father Herman two more Nuke Protect tablets. “Seaweed
won’t hurt you.”
“You’re OK for an Air Force puke, Steve.”
Captain Powell, General O’Connor’s aide, pokes his head through the
door. “The briefing has been moved up an hour. Be at the van in forty-five
minutes.”
“Consider it done, Captain,” Steve responds. “Oh, Captain Powell,
meet Father (Lt. Colonel) Herman Stone, United States Army, Retired.
He’s one of our local priests. Father Herman, Captain Powell.”
“A pleasure, Captain.”
General O’Connor has stepped back in behind Captain Powell in the
meantime. “Guys, hey, let’s get out of here . . . while we still can. The
weather is changing and the security threat analysis for Indianapolis just
went through the roof. Everyone in the van, please! The briefing will have
to take place en route. A storm front from the west is coming in faster
than expected, bringing fallout from Denver with it, and Dayton’s
radiation perimeter is oozing the other way across the state line towards us
from the east. Counter-terrorism intel says Indy is about to light up. Let’s
go!”
Capt. Powell overheard Father Herman’s the bit about the cabin,
which makes this a tough question to ask. “Father, have you checked in
with DOD for activation instructions?”
“Um, no, Captain I’ve been too busy getting the ‘sheep’ ready for
evacuation.”
“Very good, Colonel; I’ll plug you into our system here. The general
will determine your assignment.”
“I wouldn’t bother, Captain. I’m so far down the service date list that
the Pentagon will never select me before my term expires.”
“I’m sorry to say it, Colonel, but there is no Pentagon, and therefore,
no list. We are simply playing it by ear, managing the best we can. Full
stop loss is in effect across the board in any case.”
This is the first Steve and Father Herman have heard of specific
damages. The public was only informed of a handful of terrorist bomb
detonations, and that the response was basically “the problem is well in
hand.”
General O’Connor confirms. “I am afraid he is right, Father Herman.
Consider yourself recalled to active duty. You can have one of my old
uniforms. You’ll be promoted to full colonel, in a week anyway—I
guarantee it. I’m the promoting authority.
“Add Father Herman to the system Captain . . . and open his
promotion file while you’re there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Put that Nuke Protect out in the street for the civilians, Chief; we’ve
got plenty. We’ll be in clean air before they will. Let’s go!”
“Yes, sir,” Steve responds.
Father Herman bows to the will of God. What the heck, a full bird
makes more than a priest anyway. He’ll dump his military paycheck into
the relief funds near the perimeter of the blast areas. No telling where this
headquarters team will go; he could wind up deep sea fishing in Monterey
Bay, San Diego, or even Hawaii—if he lives that long.
Steve looks at Father Herman with so much disappointment one would
think they were his Rapalas rusting on the shelf.
“Oh well, Steve, the fish will still be there when we get back. Duty
calls.”
“If the northwest winds prevail, they’ll be there. That’s keeps the
fallout from the east away. It is not yet clear how far north is going to be
far enough to miss the stuff coming from the West.”
“No wonder I got that place cheap. When we get back, I’ll fly in from
the north with a Geiger counter, just to be on the safe side.”
“Probably wise, Father, probably wise. We’d better get moving.
O’Connor is a bit of an unknown entity, a bird colonel only weeks ago.”
“Oh, he’s OK. I know a good man when I see one. Give me a hand up,
Steve. No big deal; once I get moving I’ll be fine.”
Lifting Father to his feet with one hand, Steve waves the other at his
work detail: six high school graduates, fresh from the recruiter’s office.
“Put that stuff in the street with a “FREE!” placard on it, then grab a
spot in one of the vehicles in the convoy outside. We’ll regroup at our
destination. Take your orders from the ranking member in your truck until
we arrive. Understood?”
“Understood, Sergeant Steve,” comes back from one of them.
“I’ll make the placard,” another offers.
They are done in an instant. Military training instructors don’t usually
have it that easy, Steve thinks. He is visibly proud of his young warriors.
Hoosiers, you know: always there when it counts.
The convoy moves out. O’Connor invites everyone to grab some
coffee before taking a seat in his olive drab forty-foot van for the briefing.
***
Susan may be a little neurotic, but she’s not stupid. She was out on the
curb, bags in hand, a good fifteen minutes before Margaret pulled up in
the new Volvo. They waited another two minutes, counting the seconds,
before Elizabeth and the kids arrived, followed closely by Mike’s H2.
They did not stop to chat. Margaret gave the “wagons ho!” sign,
waving her arm forward with a forceful gesture and they were off, making
for the nearest county road at best possible speed. They hoped to escape
what was certain to be urban gridlock any moment, despite the fact that
West Lafayette only has two major streets. Nonetheless, the traffic on the
county roads was bumper to bumper.
They elected to go to night driving exclusively to avoid creeping day
traffic, and to save gas. Averaging twelve hours on the road per day, they
stopped only for gas, seeing the “all out” signs go up behind them more
than once.
Giving the highways a wide berth turned out to be a good strategy.
Twenty miles per hour wasn’t much, but at least they were moving. As
the days advanced, they played leapfrog with the large pickup with new
camper that tended to stay just ahead of them.
Nearing La Crosse Wisconsin at the break of another overcast dawn on
the fourth day out they decided to pull in at Sackmann’s Wayside Inn to
wait out the sun. It seems like the explosions even have the weather all
riled up. It was an easy decision to make. Ralph and Ethel came out of the
inn on the run, frantically waving to them to stop. Seeing them about to
pass by, Ralph took an awful chance and stepped into traffic to force them
aside.
“That’s my coach, Mom! Pull over,” David pleads.
As everyone was fully exhausted from a long night of driving, there
was no argument. As a bonus, a “Food still available” sign flashed on top
of the inn.
“Looks like as good a place as any to spend the day,” Margaret sighs,
staring at the exit sign for La Crosse. She suddenly remembers. It was La
Crosse.
Ralph is pacing the window of the van before they have fully stopped.
“Have I got a deal for you,” he promises, leaning in with a smile.
“Grrrr” comes from Garfield in the back seat.
“This guy, John, here, who runs the place, has three, count ’em, three
fifty gallon drums of gasoline out back, which he is willing to part with
for the right price! Who’s in?”
“Grrrr” Garfield is a little gun shy from their last deal, but his 170 IQ
has already worked out what the extra gas means for their survival
quotient. “What’s he want for them?” Garfield concedes.
“Not much, considering. He’s on his way out: going further north.”
Ralph checks the note he scribbled about the deal. “He wants a horse, a
rifle, an axe, pup tent and sleeping bag, a survival knife, water purification
tablets and a rain parka. Let’s see,” flipping the note over he reads,
“folding pocket saw, canteen, salt, spices, and some dried fruit and trail
mix. That’s it. He’s getting venison and beef jerky from a guy up the
street and has his own bath tissue. I can cover all but the horse from what
I have extra in the camper, and so can you because I know you emptied
my store after we left.”
Ralph abruptly leans in with comic exaggeration to stare accusingly at
Garfield.
Garfield is taken by surprise and, with no other response prepared,
nods guiltily. Despite the free sign, he would have trouble in court if the
party is separated and Ralph changes his mind, what with no receipt and
all. He sheepishly holds up the overstuffed backpack. Oh, the shame of it
all.
Ralph leaves Garfield to squirm for a moment. He thinks a little comic
relief doesn’t hurt in the middle of a thermonuclear war. Then, noting
Garfield’s genuine embarrassment, he wonders if he didn’t overdo it. “I’ll
write you a receipt for that stuff next break, Garfield, in case we get
separated and you are stopped on an anti-looting inspection.”
Garfield begins to warm to the old coot despite himself. But two can
play this game. “Gas! Gas!” Garfield yells at the top of his voice, pulling
on his mask and pointing frantically out the window at nothing
whatsoever. He whispered to the kids that he is going to play a game with
Ralph, that they should not be scared.
Ralph and Mike are the only ones savvy enough to know to reach for
the gas masks strapped under their arms immediately upon the cry of
“Gas!” No time to verify things in a chemical attack—just get the mask
on. Mike happens to be inside the trailer tending his horses and does not
hear. Thus, Ralph is left to be the sole butt of Garfield’s joke.
After letting Ralph jump around in his mask for a few moments trying
in vain to get the others to heed the false alarm, Garfield reaches over and
stretches the back strap to raise the side pouch from Ralph’s ear.
“All clear, Ralphie. You’re still alive, so I guess it wasn’t such a bad
deal after all.” He gives the elastic an extra bit of tension before letting it
go. Ralph jumps at the sting on his neck.
“Very funny, big guy, very funny. But I did get the mask on in record
time.”
“You’re pretty good with it Ralph, I have to admit. The kid here says
you can also shoot the ‘P’ out of Pepsi at 75 yards.”
“David’s right, and so can he. And it’s the twelve ounce can, not the
two liter bottle.”
Ethel comes over to administer her daily admonishment to her
husband. She firmly believes that if she regularly corrects her seventy-two
year old husband he will someday finally emerge from adolescence. “If
you two boys are through playing now, we’ll get back to the necessary
business at hand. We have to talk Mike out of one of his beautiful horses.
That may not be so easy.”
“Consider it done,” Mike says, leaning in, an arm across Ralph and
Ethel’s shoulders. “It’s for the best. Minus that extra fuel, at the rate my
Hummer burns gas I will soon have to leave both horses behind and my
vehicle. Let’s go talk to John and see what we can work out.
“We’ll need to securely rig those barrels into the trailer and
camouflage them; then we can get some rest. Let’s split it up between the
adults as usual, six hours on watch and six hours of sleep.”
“Fine.”
“How’s the food inside?”
“Surprisingly good, Mike; but it is not Michael’s Uptown Cafe. They
have a good source of local beef, the same guy John knows down the
street who makes the venison jerky. We should swing by there on the way
out. His surplus won’t last long in this mass exodus.
“As far as the deal goes, I’ve got a presentation Bowie knife that
should get his attention, for starters. Just look at that baby!” Ralph offers
the beautiful gold inlaid Texas Ranger presentation case around for
inspection. “Let’s make him the best deal we can. Those gas drums may
be the difference between getting these kids here to safety or not.”
“No doubt you’re right, coach, there . . . that’s my last medium.”
Garfield hands over an Israeli gas mask with storage pouch and straps.
“That’s to clinch the deal—if needed. We’ll give it to him in any case;
he may need one. But don’t offer it until we’re sure we are getting the gas.
It might serve to convince him.”
“He doesn’t have to be convinced. He offered the deal to me; said he
has prayed about it.”
“May the divine assistance remain always with us,” Margaret says,
closing her eyes. That’s it, it has to be; it’s the gas. She had intentionally
steered for La Cross, having heard the words by spiritual voice two days
earlier accompanied by a blessing. Minus the Holy Spirit touching her
heart she would have ignored the words as almost certainly coming from
Satan.
Mike takes off at a run toward the inn, calling back over his shoulder.
“I’m shaking his hand on the deal before someone else does.”
“Right behind you,” Ralph says, erupting into a hearty jog, which, at a
spry seventy-two equates to his top speed. “You guys bring the rest of the
stuff in.”
Garfield takes the opportunity to bolster the spirits of the young
people. “John will step out to check the horse, then we’ll be 150 gallons
of gas richer. We can refill the drums again further down the road. Then
we’ll make it all the way to Disneyland. I bet we’ll even get to meet
Goofy in person!”
“Hurray!”
All disembark for lunch, except Garfield who remains behind to make
an entry in his journal. He had a vision the night before the bombs went
off. Prayers for discernment have yielded mixed results. He considers this
revelation more suspect than the others—it is undeniably outré—but he
stops short of invalidating it. He touches the tip of the pen to his tongue
and writes, “Assault on the Magic Kingdom.” Curiouser and curiouser—I
wish Father were here.
----------------------------------------------
CHAPTER 8
The Devil’s in the Details
“Ladies and gentlemen, the Commander.”
All rise in a single thunderous motion as Colonel Dan Yosef, the
Israeli Base Commander, strides into the auditorium from the rear,
General Wiles, Chairman of the U.S. Joint Chiefs, accompanying him on
his right. The body language of the war-hardened colonel is more than
athletic; it is combative. For Clayton, looking on from the third row with
his American friends, Yosef’s demeanor says it all: this is where
everything changes.
“Fight for your future or lose it!” Yosef steps to the back wall and
presses a button. A wall map is illuminated with sharp precision. Colorful
magnetic symbols represent the position of military units. The largest
groups are positioned at or near Israel’s northern border with Syria in
contrasting colors.
The first thing the Americans notice is that the red group on top by far
outnumbers the tiny blue collection snuggled just inside the Israeli border
below. The red force stretches all the way back past the Caspian Sea far
into Russia. The Israeli’s take no notice of the imbalance; they are tapping
their fingers.
“Your country is going to war . . . here!” The colonel’s pointer comes
down with controlled violence on the red symbols, scattering many to the
floor. “And you’re all invited,” Yosef adds with a devastating smile that
bodes nothing but disaster for his opponents. He pauses as his troops
cheer their renowned leader.
This Israeli team at the just completed state-of-the-art survival bunker,
mostly handpicked, are patriots first, and military technicians second. You
will not find cold, calculating, self-serving political analysts or careerminded specialists here. These guys are simply going to run over you with
an exultant war cry and keep going to the next objective.
“We have two thousand combat ready troops here in the bunker, a fleet
of twenty transport helicopters, and, courtesy of our American visitors,
two awesome gunships, two state of the art airborne command posts (one
tactical, one strategic), and a hospital bird that we will transfer to the main
strike force for casualty overflow evacuation to Europe. These planes
have been repaired and we’re going to use them.” At this point, he has
everyone’s attention.
“We will interdict the red armored columns and their supply lines
here, here, and here . . . ” Red symbols fall to the floor as he strikes ten
locations in quick succession. “every 50 miles, beginning at the front lines
near our north border with Syria working back incrementally toward
Russia.
“We will break them up into immobilized segments, still too large to
be fully digestible chunks, but we will stop them and we will hurt them—
then…we will increase pressure until we simply break them, break them
down into one enormous salvage yard of scrap metal.”
Cheering erupts and moves into a one-word chant of “tshuah,” the
Hebrew word for victory and deliverance from enemies: Tesh-oo-aw!,
Tesh-oo-aw!, Tesh-oo-aw!…
The general motions with his hand, indicating the need to continue.
The chanting subsides.
“Tshuah—yes! Though we are again finding ourselves David fighting
Goliath, we have every hope of winning. The Israeli main body of 500
high-tech fifth generation battle tanks are using technology that will be
unveiled to the world for the first time. They will rapidly maneuver to
envelop and destroy the enemy spearhead. They will then do likewise
with each succeeding segment. We will bring ten guns to bear on each one
of theirs—at a minimum. If the Red forces respond by hiding in the
narrow mountain passes where we cannot flank them, fine. That’s where
we want them to stay. It blocks their reinforcements, and it buys us time
for international help to arrive.
“By employing overwhelming firepower, albeit only on a localized
segment of the much larger enemy force, we greatly reduce their numbers
while incurring few losses to our own tanks. They can’t fight us with
tanks that have not arrived. Fighting a war on paper is always a fatal
mistake. The advance elements of the enemy armored column now
threatening your children will be decimated like a burning matchstick.
Their straggling line of reinforcements, massive though it is, will simply
feed the fire at the tip.”41
Colonel Yosef checks his watch, and then looks at his air assault
commander, Major Hirsch, with kindness. “Three hours and fifteen
minutes. Would you like leave to prepare, Major?”
“So requested, sir. May I be dismissed?”
“Granted. Take your CONOPS folder when you go.”
The Commander nods to one of his aides. Hirsch is given an order of
operations folder containing the plan of battle. “The details of your flight
ops are all in there. Implement Tab C now. Send three helicopters to scour
our supply points. Pick up demolition charges and shoulder launched
antitank missiles, all you can safely lift. Take them directly to the
battlefield. Distribute them to the others who will be engaged with the
enemy when you arrive. Understood?”
“Understood, sir.”
“Get the overview of our larger war plan from “David and Goliath”
in the command post safe before you go. Dismissed!”
Hirsch salutes smartly and strides out of the room, breaking into a
respectful jog near the back exit. He has a wife and two children in the
compound.
“I’m glad they’re on our side,” Clayton remarks to nodding
affirmations.
Colonel Yosef turns his attention back to the auditorium. “We are up
against a numerically superior force, and, therefore, we may not win. But,
with courage and good strategy, yet we may. With God’s favor, we will
certainly win!”
Wild cheers erupt from the Israelis.
“Here is what we plan to do. With your permission, General Wiles, we
will employ the awesome rapid firing 25mm Gatling gun and 40mm
cannon onboard the C-130 gunships to fly deep into the red supply route.
There we will take out fuel and munitions trucks. If we succeed, many
enemy tanks will ultimately run out of gas. Others will have fewer shells
to fire when they arrive. That’s our first objective: reduce the number of
guns they can make available to the firing line at a given moment.
“Step two: demolition explosives placed in narrow mountain passes
will cause rock slides to block the roads, thus causing an initial delay of
the primary armored columns. This earns us time to prepare, plus affords
us a few free shots at stragglers pulling away from the roadblocks.
“Step three: our infantry, using shoulder fired antitank missiles, will
selectively target vehicles up front in awkward spots in the terrain to
further slow the enemy advance.
“We can transport a limited number of rounds. With luck, we’ll take
out two, maybe three hundred tanks. The obstructions and delays will tend
to break the convoy into isolated segments, however, slowing the enemy
advance. The massive enemy force in the rear will have trouble moving
forward to the aid of the engaged segment up front.
“Beyond that, we can only trust to God that it will be enough to stop
them. We may at least delay the enemy until further help arrives from
friendly nations. This is where the airborne command posts come in. The
AWACS will lift off and stay close to the battle lines to facilitate close-in
radio communications between Israeli combat team components. Charlie
One, as the AWACS will be called, will give us a useful ‘eye in the sky,’
reporting enemy force movements.
“The President’s command post, code named Blue Spirit, will fly out
to a clear spot for long distance strategic communications. Blue Spirit will
coordinate the first waves of incoming friendly forces. If everyone here
does his or her job, we may buy enough time for their arrival.”
General Wiles stands up. “What about Russian fighter cover, assault
helicopters? They could easily take out our gunships and command posts.
Our snipers will have real trouble with heavily armed Russian choppers.”
“Every plan has a weak spot, or two, General. The Israeli Air Force is
making a major sweep towards Russia as we speak in an effort to destroy
some Soviet planes on the ground. They will come back, we trust, to
patrol the areas of engagement; but we don’t have the numbers we need.
We are fortunate the Russians haven’t already done the same thing to us.
“Apparently the Russians have been waiting to commit their massive
air forces until the tank columns were in striking distance of Israel’s
military and cultural centers so as not to blow the transparent cover story
of arms sales and training maneuvers—trying to get in close through
deception to reduce our reaction time. They don’t need air cover until the
shooting starts, in any case, but failure to suppress our Air Force with a
preemptive first strike will cost them, as will allowing time for reinforcing
coalition aircraft to arrive.
“Russia has badly miscalculated Israel’s resolve to respond
preemptively in the early hours of a threat. Our tiny nation cannot afford
the risk of deception inherent in such large armored maneuvers, if anyone
truly can. We must give ourselves the benefit of any doubt to preserve
necessary reaction time. This we have done both in striking Iran and Syria
preemptively with tactical nuclear weapons at nuclear launch sites, and in
advancing to meet Russian armor in Syria instead of waiting for them to
cross into Israel.
“Even having done something so blatant, we retain a brief window of
opportunity vis-à-vis Russian control of the air. The situation now poses
only an ambiguous threat to Russia, notwithstanding that it is a clear
aggression against Iran and Syria. We have struck two of Russia’s allies,
but only in a limited fashion and for known and specific reasons. Does
this mean that we will necessarily strike Russia? No. All the historical
precedents say, no. In the past Israel has been disciplined, controlled, and
circumspect, even surgical in her preemptive responses.
“Furthermore, had we intended full-scale war with Russia, we could
have already neutralized their tank columns with tactical nuclear strikes.
This would cripple the invasion force to an extent that must be presumed
decisive.
“By attempting to move in close minus a declaration of war, Russia
has tried to gain unfair advantage. They are hiding under a smokescreen
of ambiguity. We have now countered that advantage by doing precisely
the same thing. Let them eat ambiguity, to misquote Marie Antoinette.
“Our window of opportunity ends when the ambiguity ends, however.
Within hours of our direct attacks on their convoys and homeland airbases
the Soviets can be expected to commit the full range of their massive and
sophisticated airpower to the battlefield. As you say, General Wiles, once
that happens, we can consider our gunships and helicopters as of no use,
at least until a massive contest for control of the skies is fought and won
over the process of several weeks using substantial add-on fighter groups
supplied by allied nations.
“The cornerstone of our current strategy is the fact that the window of
opportunity is in fact now open, not that it will remain so for long. In
accordance with long-established land, air, and sea power doctrine, Russia
and its allies should have established air superiority over the battlefield
first. They have the resources to plausibly accomplish it, although the
Israeli Air Force, so highly trained and technologically more advanced,
will generally outperform the red force plane for plane.
“We are not going to wait for the Russians to realize their mistake.
“We may have picked up an additional day of breathing space, maybe
two, by the nuclear strikes in the U.S. I don’t think Russian planners were
expecting that, not at all; they are probably dumbfounded, and wondering
if we will hold our fire long enough to see what actually happened.
“The option to play innocent and turn the tanks around claiming arm
sales and training maneuvers has pretty much dissolved now with the
devastation of the entire East Coast of the United States. Before the
nuclear card was played in D.C., Russia and Iran had, in their own minds
at least, a chance for a free lunch. If no one called their bluff before they
reached Israel’s northern border with such a massive and unstoppable
force, they had a real shot at convincing Western coalition political
leaders to tolerate an occupied Israel. This is so because there would be no
effective way to prevent an overrun of Israel at that point. The invasion
force could conceivably be defeated over time, yes, but not until it had
rolled over the larger part of Israel. Any battle to eject the invaders would
devastate the physical infrastructure and the population of Israel. The
political choice would then be between owning a nation on paper
consisting of rubble and corpses now, or saving lives and infrastructure in
the hope of negotiating the reattainment of a viable nation after some
years of occupation.
“In the sense that this Russian strategy is more political than it is
military, it is a foolish ploy to throw at Israel. Israel must think in
exclusively military, not political, terms. From the first instant that a
concrete battlefield threat materializes Israel must play for a
comparatively short-term victory—there is no time for politics. This is
because we have insufficient depth in landmass, natural resources and
population to play the standard political game of wait and see.
“Russia’s smartest play is different. Known to have massive resources,
military bulk, and resilience even to Blitzkrieg, Russia stands to profit
more from a strategy of intimidation. Russia can benefit from first
throwing its political weight around, issuing implied or even overt threats
without striking at all. Hitler did this to great effect in the early days of
WWII. In doing so, he picked up significant additional resources for free.
These resources substantially strengthened his hand for the later time
when he would strike.
“Now, however, because of the ambiguous impacts in the U.S., no
merit remains in the free lunch strategy. Russia can’t use ‘free lunch’ now
because as far as they know the whole world thinks it is already at war—
though it is not yet clear whom they are at war with.
“How long will it take Russian leadership to clear their heads and
rethink the entire fouled up scenario? The stakes have grown exorbitantly
high in the meantime and their initial planning assumptions are now
unsalvageably compromised. It is anybody’s guess.
“Israel has further preempted Russia’s use of nuclear intimidation in
having first introduced tactical nuclear weapons to the battlefield. This
single weapon system is so fully capable of halting the Russian advance in
its tracks that Russian strategists are sent back to square one of the
chessboard; all previously anticipated second round moves now stand in
check. Russia, Iran and Syria are reeling from the shock of Israel’s
preemptive strike on the nuclear capable airfields, sure. But Russia is a
grizzly reeling from the sting of a hornet.
“What should we expect from Moscow? Mass resignations, a spate of
executions, and then what . . . ? Who knows? Successful strategies are
partially predictable because there are only so many ways to win. Once
winning has been definitively ruled out, predictability fails because one
can foul up a situation in a practically unlimited number of ways.
“Our one dread fear will always be that Israeli planners have
underestimated the alternatives of the great Russian bear. The fact that she
has ignored the checkmate of her armored thrust that is inherent in Israel’s
introduction of tactical nuclear weapons should give us pause. It means
one of three things: one, she is fully bluffing in an expectation of winning
politically by backing down the coalition; two, she has found a viable
military strategy option we have yet to perceive; or three, Russia is being
shoved forward irrationally by supernatural forces in the devil’s last
hurrah, a vicious and spiteful lashing out at God’s people.
“The last option of course will remain forever oblivious to good
military logic, involving as it does the supernatural. It is for that very
reason the most frightening alternative, being intractable to rational
analysis.
“What would I do in their place? If I were calling the shots in the
Kremlin now I would pick up the hotline and freeze everything, offer aid
to the U.S. and begin recalling the tanks in a very visible manner. Only
Iran and Syria are fully implicated in the nuclear launch threat so far. The
impact profile of the bombs detonated in the U.S. superficially clears
Russia of involvement. Unfortunately, they don’t yet know it.
“Once we get that information firmly across, Russia could try to
distance herself from the worst of it in the eyes of the world, separating
the three primary events as unrelated to each other, with Russia being
guilty of only a massive armored force deployment. Such a movement is
dangerously provocative, but it is not a major crime against humanity.
“That’s what I would do, deny and pull back. Russia may elect
something entirely different, however, something we have not anticipated.
But the fact remains that, for whatever reason, Russia has yet to commit
her enormous airpower to the area of operations. As a result we have an
indefinite though admittedly brief window of time to preclude the
enemy’s overrunning our homes, families and the seat of our government.
It is an opportunity we cannot afford to miss.
“The moment we strike Russian air bases, supply lines and tank
columns, however, the situation irrevocably changes in the minds of
Russian strategists. To avoid an unthinkable decimation of her inventory
of first-class armored cavalry, Russia must either respond with planes and
helicopters to their defense, or stop the convoys cold, put out the white
flag, and call for an immediate cease fire.
“Once Russia commits to fight, the wild card becomes U.S. coalition
air power: how soon and how many. If we don’t receive additional
fighters in eighteen to thirty-six hours of Russia’s committing her Air
Force, we expect the massive Soviet advantage in numbers to ultimately
prevail in the air.”
General Wiles stands. “I think that’s my cue, Colonel Yosef. Let me
make as many calls as I can get to go through now, and we’ll be that
much ahead. I’ll get planes moving your way. I’ll ask Vice President
Jackson to try to talk sense into the Soviet President, if he will speak with
us at all. We can’t afford to let a critical decision point pass by without
making every effort to avoid spiraling escalation. We may never get a
second chance to recall it.”
“Thank you, General Wiles. We are most grateful for your help.
How’s the President?”
“Still fading in and out, I’m afraid. He remains in grave danger. I’ll
keep you informed of his progress.”
Wiles steps off the stage through a back exit to make the calls they
urgently require for air support. His next stop is Jackson’s quarters at the
far end of the corridor. An urgent call will be placed to the Kremlin. They
will be much surprised at what they hear.
A single Israeli captain stands up in the auditorium and begins to
rhythmically clap his hands and chant, “Monty, Monty,” inviting the
assembly to acknowledge the President’s courage. It is well known that
Monty Lewis had completed an impressive career of service to the nation
before being drafted into politics. He now lies fighting for his life in the
center of what portends to be WWIII, his body broken, mysteriously
refusing to heal. He should have been sailing Lake Arrowhead, fishing the
Colorado River, or snuggled with his beloved Israel-born wife, Anna BenManashe, by a roaring fire in the snow-spackled resorts of Aspen or Big
Bear.
Colonel Yosef steps over to join his captain in applauding the
President. He casts a piercing gaze towards the infirmary. This is a nice
touch, my captain has added. In expressing his love for the President,
Yosef for the moment sets aside his own unique nationality, and his
regional leadership role. Dan Yosef is simply going to join his young
captain, humbly, as one world citizen joining another, to offer a gesture of
international amity to a respected colleague. Monty is a great leader and
has given his best when called. This is more than an Israeli battle, after
all. Yosef quietly contemplates the larger spiritual context as well as the
international import of the world-shaking events.
The big colonel does nothing to compel his men to follow suit.
Nonetheless, the full assembly picks up his captain’s gesture with
emotional force. They do not do this because Dan Yosef is their
commander; they do this because he is their leader, and because Monty is
the husband of their beloved Anna.
Yosef has an iron constitution, tireless in action. His applause stretches
on. He loses track of time, entering a mystical state to which only true
warriors receive an invitation. As he stares with awed respect toward the
President, his captain steps back from his side just far enough to focus a
similar gaze at him, projecting the affection and pride Yosef’s men hold
for their colonel.
When the applause threatens to fade, Yosef bids them all take their
seats. Then he makes a remark that strikes many as incongruous.
“Who remembers the Elton John concert in Birmingham, UK in
2004?”
This strikes everyone as out of sync with the gravity of the situation,
but Colonel Yosef asks this sincerely. What could be his purpose in
quizzing trivia at such a desperate time? “I was at the British war college
in those days. I had the rare weekend pass and was fortunate to get tickets
from a friend. Did anyone else happen to see that show? I’m serious.”
Father Bernie is the only respondent. “It looks like I’m it, Colonel.”
“Wasn’t that a kick-butt concert? Absolutely unbelievable!”
“Yes, it truly was.” Father Bernie simply tells the truth, and then waits
noncommittally to see where the eccentric Israeli Commander is going
with this.
“And what happened at the end; do you remember, Father?”
“Well, let’s see. That was a long time ago. After two tremendous
encores, the crowd clapped and stamped for five minutes solid until Elton
felt compelled to return to the stage yet a third time. He reappeared in a
tracksuit and announced that they had no further material prepared. The
crowd insisted, however, and Elton ultimately deferred to his adoring
fans, improvising ‘Saturday Night’s All Right for Fighting.’ He blew the
roof off. It was tremendous.”42
“Exactly. Now . . . let’s do the same thing for the President. Let’s
simply call him back for an encore, and not take no for an answer. It can
be done; even Christ had to tell Mary Magdalene to stop holding onto him
after his death so he could ascend to the Father. Monty can go to heaven
later. As a duly elected official he has an obligation to us first, the world
needs him here right now. He is the one man we have left who can pull
the whole planet together behind him, the Tony Blair we never thought to
see on the other side of the Atlantic.
“Father, if you will offer an appropriate prayer, I think my men and I
can do the rest.”
Well, then . . . Father Bernie thinks to himself . . . this man is not
crazy, he’s inspired. If this leather-skinned gladiator who has cheated
death a full half dozen times just to be able to stand here alive and
without crutches is going to laud the virtues of my beloved President, and
go on to call on the Lord God Almighty for a healing, well then . . . he’s
just going to get my best effort!
There is something more to consider here. These are all good men and
women. They love God. They are facing death for the sake of their nation.
Their wives and children are facing death alongside them here in this
bunker. They respect and honor our President who has been drawn
precariously close to leaving this world because of his loyalty to Israel.
Many of those present have only discovered Christ within the past week.
Father Bernie has been a priest long enough to read these signs; God is
going to do something for these people. Moved strongly by the Spirit,
Father Bernie stands up. He traces a Sign of the Cross over the assembled
troops as a blessing. He then renders an impassioned Hail Holy Queen,
after which he merely sits down and waits. All present become
immediately vigilant.
Father’s instincts are still good. Our thrice-holy God, compassionate
and merciful, has elected to act once again in the person of his humble
priest, Father Bernard J. Shasta, directing the salvific cross of our Lord
Jesus Christ to leave Father Bernie’s outstretched arm as an instrument of
extraordinary grace. A priest’s cross is often a palpable blessing, but this
one . . . it simply hangs there, chiseled into the open air. Eyes remain
fixed upon it. Once again, the new converts seem hyper-sensitized to the
Spirit, leaning forward in their seats. There is a preternatural pause.
Expectations are further heightened. Then flames of the Holy Spirit
joyously pass over those present. An invisible hand comes to rest upon the
shoulder of each warrior presently contemplating a near term death in
service to his or her God and nation, the affectionate, reassuring hand of
God their Father, the great eternal “I AM.”
Strong Israeli soldiers, women and men, all cry the same at that touch,
immediately oblivious to the presence of all else. They know their Father,
a special touch learned as children in prayer. Nothing else exists or is
necessary when He is present. Father.
Next, time is forever lost, irretrievable by any act of human will. It
resumes only with God’s departure. How much the world has changed in
the interim can only be guessed. For “with the Lord one day is like a
thousand years and a thousand years like one day.”43 Those present
instinctively offer a favorite childhood tradition of some kind, a prayer or
meditation, something they have come to associate most closely with the
loving presence of their God.
Yosef is sure now: God is with him. When it is clear that sound will
not be irreverent, he begins again but louder. “Mon—ty!, Mon—ty!” As
his troops bring the stamping and shouting to a crescendo, Colonel Yosef
recalls TV coverage of the precedent-shattering primary election that put
forth America’s first major Christian/Catholic candidate, and how
gloriously his cousin Anna, Monty’s spectacular wife, had represented the
Israeli people. Flexing the sinewy cables that pass for his arms, he raises
them powerfully overhead in a personal appeal to heaven. Repeating this
gesture again and again, Yosef invites his men to do the same. His
powerful silhouette grows larger. Arms of affectionate children reach out
to their Father, return to pray, and reach again.
Yosef is blessed. He receives a charism of healing. He falls to his
knees. “Please, God . . . ” Bending forward he simply cries, praying in his
heart for President Lewis to recover.
The committed defenders of Israel respond to their beloved and
eccentric leader, as always, and without reserve. The auditorium trembles.
“Monty, Monty…”
Then something happens…beyond hope. The Holy Spirit descends
upon the Israeli bunker in discernible tongues of flame. It is unmistakable
this time. All kneel. The converts try to immerse themselves more and
more fully in the joyous presence, hoping God will never leave them.
Called to alertness by the Spirit, the President feels vibrations. He
hears his name. Is he at the Christian Party convention awaiting
nomination? After a moment the fog clears and he remembers. What a
magnificent expression of Israeli friendship!
Esprit de corps like this comes from a select few places on earth, the
United States Marines, Navy Seals, Army Rangers, Special Forces,
Israel’s IDF, the ROK forces of South Korea, Britain’s MI6, SAS and
SBS, Germany’s GSG 9, France’s GIGN, Pakistan’s Special Service
Group, the Japanese Defense Forces, Moscow’s Spetsnaz, Poland’s
GROM, the U.S. 82nd and 101st Airborne, British Brigade of Gurkhas,
Israel’s Mossad and Shayetet 13, and a handful of other similarly inspired
organizations around the globe.
Lewis spent a year on an exchange program with the Mossad as a
young captain. The task then was to break a comparatively feeble attempt
by the U.S. and European Mafias to compromise the Mossad organization
the way they later compromised the CIA.
“Mon—ty! Mon—ty!”
I love you guys too. His thoughts go back to Anna and the kids.
Happier times . . . his beloved Anna Ben-Manashe, a ripe plum picked
from the heart of the Negev, then cousin to another young captain, Danny
Yosef. The same Dan Yosef who ran the strike team Mossad assembled to
provide multilayered physical security for their internal investigators. We
all slept well with Big Dan watching over us. The Mafia hasn’t been back.
Back to Anna. While her dual citizenship almost cost him the election,
it almost certainly also won it for him. What a magnificent first lady!
Dark, mysterious, playful, wise, elegant . . . and always gloriously
beautiful. Anna, Joseph and Ariel . . . may God protect you.
Consciousness oddly clarifies into tongues of flame. The President is
immersed in a joyous blessing of healing. This miracle of the Lord’s is
followed in the next moment by another of his masterpieces, a beautiful
young nurse. Is she real?
“Ouch!”
Yes, she is real enough to inject him with a broad-spectrum antibiotic.
“The drug is meant to counteract the cause of your slow healing.”
“Thank you.” Monty’s first words since falling off the gantry, where
his last one was “Viaticum.”
“What is it, the drug?”
“Ciprofloxacin, Cipro for short. Standard procedure since the first Gulf
War. When a patient does not respond normally in the absence of a known
cause, Cipro and Doxycycline have been producing great results. If PCR
is positive for Mycoplasma fermentans incognitas infection, or if you
respond favorably to empiric trial of the medication, you will be switched
to Doxycycline for extended treatment. Cipro hits the germ harder and
faster, but Doxy is better tolerated for long-term use.”
“Gulf War Illness? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“In a sense, yes. It is the same germ. We are finding it even in the
civilian population, and more often than you might think. Mycoplasma
fermentans incognitas is also the more lethal half of the AIDS complex,
killing more patients than the viral component. Half of arthritis patients
test positive for MFI, now that we are finally starting to look.
Fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue test about the same. Your military
vaccines appear to be contaminated with it.”
He can feel his strength coming back already. “Thank you” will be his
last words for today as well.
A wild chorus of applause, cheers, and prayer trails out through the
hallways, as the doors of the auditorium are thrown open in anticipation
of the pending dismissal. Clerks, nurses, administrators, mechanics.
Everyone joins in hailing the Holy Spirit.
A Hebrew cleric assembles some of the devout to march past the
infirmary singing traditional Israeli hymns. Their nation would want them
to do this, to offer hospitality and blessings to the American President. He
has gone to war for their nation. They have seen the news. They know: the
U.S. has been badly hurt and Armageddon is massing on their northern
border.
Israeli wives and children in the dormitories cry unashamedly in
joyous affirmation of God’s personal invitation to prayer. They too share
their commander’s love of the American president. They do not take for
granted staunch and vocal allies of their tiny and beleaguered nation. And
they will always hold a special place in their heart for the husband of their
beloved Anna.
A med-tech rushes down to the auditorium with great news. Colonel
Yosef raises his hand for silence. Turning to address the assembly, he
makes no attempt to hide tears, nor does anyone notice them, or their own.
Tears are like breathing when God is close, natural and necessary, yet
unnoticed. “The President is now alert. Thanks be to God!”
“Thanks be to God!” echoes from the troops.
Colonel Yosef turns to his mission. “The briefing is over. Do not leave
until your name is called. You will now receive instructions from your
team chief. Group leaders, call your teams; then go say goodbye to your
families. Increments of equipment and supplies have been identified and
assembled. They are now being loaded. Report back here in two hours.
You will receive a pre-departure meal, prayers and further instructions.”
Colonel Yosef assumes the position of attention and instructs in
command voice: “Team leaders, call your teams. Dismissed!”
***
General O’Connor drags his coffee cup to the raised platform at the
front of the van. It must be made of lead. It is refreshing, however. After
mounting the stage, taking a good long drink is the first thing he does. He
exhales, expecting the usual refreshment that coffee and mild exercise
produces in a healthy person, but, as has been the case since the radiation
exposure, it doesn’t come.
Looking around the room vacantly as if trying to find the lost physical
resources needed to do this briefing, O’Connor leans on the podium at
nearly forty-five degrees to emphasize radiation-induced fatigue as his
first point of concern. He sees Father Herman sitting up front,
demonstrably unwell. Oh well, they will just have to acknowledge their
limitations and go on.
“Folks, our first stop is Scott Air Force Base in Illinois. We’ll rest a
full night and put Father Herman on a plane for somewhere that has clean
air and proper medical staff. At first light we’ll move north, angle through
Wisconsin. We’ll dodge around stalled civilian refugee traffic as fast as
the terrain permits.
“We should find clean air and a temporary home further north and
west at Minot Air Force Base in North Dakota. Our job, once we get
there, is to rebuild DOD headquarters functions provisionally and then to
manage the entire CONUS military force structure from there. I’d like you
all to begin thinking about exactly how we are going to do that.”
O’Connor takes a few deep breathes to produce a little energy. He
wonders if his heart isn’t the problem, but it is just the radiation.
A shadow passes over the HQ van. It oddly penetrates the walls,
dimming the lights and spirits of those inside and sapping their strength.
The general returns to his coffee for strength, but is unpleasantly
surprised. All the coffee drinkers spew the suddenly putrid elixir onto the
floor—it is rancid! “What the ###***!!!”, General O’Connor exclaims.
“My coffee’s rancid!” comes from the young lieutenant at the back by
way of explanation, fully embarrassed at his unthinkable violation of
protocol in having just heaved his lunch into the corner waste can. “Sorry,
general, I . . . ” I’ll never make captain now, he finishes to himself. The
lieutenant begins an apology but O’Connor waives him off, himself afraid
to swallow. Sprinting to the van’s side door he spits the awful mud
outside, holding the door for the next in line. “Uhll, ull…###***!!!”
“Somebody get a Geiger counter in here to check for radioactive
contamination!” the General commands. A half dozen officers and NCOs
rush to the equipment locker.
“No need.” With a visible effort, Father Herman stands up, using an
improvised walking stick for support. “You’ll be wasting your time.” He
moves to the front.
“This coffee thing is not radiation; it’s supernatural. Trust me.
Certainly we should test everything to be sure, but radiation is not the
cause of this foul coffee, I assure you.”
One of the unbelieving staff, a captain, laughs outright. “The devil did
it? Come on Father, why would Satan, the great fallen angel, ruler of
legions of the dark forces, lower himself to do something so trivial?”
“Your question is reasonable on the surface, Captain, but you are fully
wrong in your assumptions. Your question fairly answers itself. First of
all, the devil does so-called ‘trivial’ things every day all day long. Satan
will make his initial overtures by any means at hand, nibbling at the
smallest morsels to gain entrée in hopes they might ultimately combine
into something larger.
“Furthermore, to say that the devil would not lower himself to do
something is a contradiction in terms; the devil is at the dark bottom of
every repugnant scale of measure. He is the very source of low things for
crying out loud!
“But let’s consider for a moment just how trivial this attack on our
coffee really is in more practical terms.
“Number one: Being partially debilitated by radiation exposure we
must now lean on this coffee for strength to stay alert enough to do our
jobs to even minimal standards for even half a day, in this, what may well
be the last battle for both democracy and the Church. After such a deepreaching nausea I suspect most of you will give up coffee for weeks, if not
for life. As a result when you need mental clarity or are called to make an
extra effort you will not have the assistance coffee provides. You may fall
out of your duty position.
“Two: Coffee is a mood changer, and one of the few treats available
on the battlefield. A reward for making an effort. Now, when we turn to
our coffee break we will think only of the repugnant. Here the devil gains
both physical and psychological ground over us at the time we most need
refreshment.
“Three: in this ‘trivial’ incident Satan has visibly demonstrated his
reach. He has shown us that he can intrude into our very headquarters,
that he can strike us at will, any time and any place. This serves to
intimidate and to lower our confidence. It serves as a standing threat, a
form of extortion. Under that pressure, some folks may fold, and cross
over to do Satan’s bidding to avoid being struck again. Still think the
incident trivial, Captain?”
“No sir, Colonel.”
“Very well. Skepticism is a healthy thing, Captain. You were not
wrong to question my explanation. One should hold onto skepticism; it is
healthy, but only in moderation. To be so skeptical as to be unable to
recognize the truth when it appears is self-destructive.
“We must remain on guard, even in apparently small matters, in order
to release the devil’s first attempts to grip our souls. A chain of
negativities no matter how small, if allowed to progress unhindered, can
lead to much bigger problems. We must discipline ourselves to maintain a
positive attitude under the most severe circumstances. ‘Don’t worry, be
happy’: this is not a daft expression of naïve and gullible idiots, far from
it. It is the master strategy of spiritual warfare. ‘Keep on the sunny side’
as the old song goes. These enduring aphorisms of popular culture are not
inanities; they have endured for a reason. Turn the light on and you dispel
the darkness.
“As many of you may have discerned by now, we are living in the
great and terrible “Day of the Lord,” the time of judgment. Satan, he who
deigned to be so ungracious as to despoil your coffee, has been released
from his bonds and is free now to pose his final assault upon the Church.
His dark hand has no doubt deeply influenced the tragic events we are
now witnessing. The conflict we are immersed in is no longer merely a
physical battle of world powers. By implication, St. James at chapter five,
verse sixteen tells us that a single heartfelt prayer can make as much
difference as a flight of jets or a battalion of tanks. For that reason I solicit
your prayers that good and right prevail. For the sake of our children, I
implore you: pray as often as you can.”
Two sergeants with Geiger counters offer their report. “No significant
contamination” is the finding.
“Thank you. Dismissed. Anything else, Father, before we get back to
work.”
“Yes, just another moment, please.
“God permits such signals as the devil’s intrusion today to remind us
that it is time to move into the kingdom of God in the spirit, to detach
ourselves from the material concerns of this world. The middle ground of
‘natural man,’ a creature purely of this physical world, partly good, partly
evil, a life option many have always taken for granted, is rapidly going
away. So is the opportunity for agnosticism and spiritual indecision. The
eternal harvest of souls is so fully under way at this point that we will
simply have to decide for Christ or the devil.
“A public poke through by the devil in real physical terms such as we
have just seen indicates not only that he is loose but that we may have
stepped far enough away from the purely good on some moral issue as to
permit he who is purely evil to exercise some claim upon us by default.
“The relentless spiritual dynamic of the harvest dictates that we are
either fully with God, or we are partially with the devil, Mr. Nausea. We
can no longer afford to err on moral questions. Leave God on some
important matter and we will immediately be in the devil’s hands to the
extent entailed by the gravity or our sin.
“In this instance, God may simply be sending us a preemptory warning
in order to keep us out of the devil’s hands. This present crisis obviously
leaves little room for error. Let’s hope that’s what it is. But we should try
to discern where we have strayed from the good and make any necessary
corrections.”
The van has stopped and several officers and servicemen and women
have stepped into the grass to further wretch their guts out.
“I know what it is, Father.” It’s the young lieutenant. “But it is not an
error of commission, it is an error of omission. We are sitting in here
playing God with millions of lives. We should at least be praying for
guidance at the beginning of each shift, and meaning it.”
“Well said, Lieutenant.” Father, reaches over and shakes the young
officer by his shoulder. “Well said.”
“Would you like to lead us in prayer, Father? I think one introduction
to Mr. Nausea is all I’ll require,” General O’Connor admits. “Any of you
folks in the ACLU can file a law suit later for infringing your right to be
free of religion. No one is obligated to participate in this prayer, but
anyone who wishes may darn well participate. Father…”
“Thank you, General, but I think I’ll defer to the young lieutenant
here, if you don’t mind. Go ahead Bruce, we’ll follow along.”
“Our Father in heaven . . . ” A burden is lifted from those who did pray
as the prayer concludes.
“There, that’s better, eh Bruce?”
“Way better, Father. Thanks be to God!”
“Thanks be to God. One more thing, and I’m done,” Father Herman
concludes. “In this late hour, we have to seek God’s protection or be
physically overrun, potentially even possessed by the devil. This is what I
fear has happened to our friends in Russia. What has happened is out of
character for them, at least for the new Russia. It therefore indicates
supernatural intrusion. We’ll need to fervently pray for their release from
demonic influence.
“That’s all I have. Your coffee should be fine, if you can get your
stomach to trust it. I advise a prayer first. The devil will try to hold the
ground he has gained. Minus prayer, you may never eat or drink again.”
“Thank you, Father,” O’Connor says. “Steve you’re up. For those of
you who don’t know Chief Garger, he is the best force management
analyst in the business. Chief…”
General O’Connor collapses into a folding chair next to the map. Steve
wearily takes up an opposite position and begins. “I’ve been discussing
the situation with my tri-service counterparts in the South, West and
North. With the exception of Maine, the east is just a group of casualties
heading south. With a view to both defensive and offensive options, our
forces in Maine will integrate with the Canadian armed forces under the
banner of Joint Task Force Joshua. JTF Joshua itself is currently under
hasty revision to integrate project Gabriel. The President, the Chairman,
and Colonel Gary Johnson are leading Gabriel from an undisclosed
location.
“Scratch Maine and the Atlantic seaboard off the resource list.
Pennsylvania and New York are caught between the dirty bomb impacts
in Ohio and D.C.; their support units are heading south by southwest,
trying to thread the needle. They’ll help with refugee centers on the Gulf
Coast.
“Combat units in the East will be forward deployed to Europe and the
Israeli theater of operations by way of a decontamination stop in
Greenland.
“There’s an awful lot of radiation damage. Direct explosive impacts,
fragmentation damage, and secondary explosions didn’t effect much
beyond a couple miles of ground zero, but we lost an awful lot of good
people in those small circles around ground zero.
“We took a pretty good punch, but it takes a lot more than that to
knock down the United States of America. We’re up off the mat now and
coming back strong. Our nation-wide force management plan is tentative,
but here is what we propose to do.
“Combat aircraft from our southern bases are moving forward to
Europe to fill Project Gabriel requirements, predominantly assuming a
defensive posture for Europe. Gabriel’s computer brain feels that Europe
is somehow at great risk, though our flesh and blood war planners do not
presently concur. We are going with Gabriel, with a few rare exceptions.
“Half our transport aircraft and helicopters will remain here to be used
for medevac, relief convoy, and rescue operations. We were fortunate to
get our east coast aircraft into the air before the blasts hit. Gabriel alerted
us to get planes up and distribute them randomly.
“Yes, Major?”
“How did we know to do that?”
“We aren’t cleared for all the intelligence data that the decision was
based upon. It’s a classified system; that’s all I can say.
“To continue with our response plan, three armored divisions are
moving from Europe by rail towards Israel, making all possible speed.
Two infantry divisions and the 82nd Airborne will get there first.
“Space Command reports no substantial damage to the strategic
missile fleet, and no land or sea based invasion threat to CONUS has been
detected, nor is any anticipated. Our satellites are still up there looking
down. Analysis of satellite data is proceeding in relatively normal fashion.
“So far so good. Our strong right arm, our offensive strategic
capability, is undamaged. We have taken a good shot to the gut, but we’ll
be getting our wind back soon.
“We have broken up the U.S. into four independent theatres of
operation for survivability: SOUTHCOM, NORTHCOM, WESTCOM
and ALASCOM. Canada has promised to fall in fully with ALASCOM as
needed. Aircraft, vehicles, equipment and electronics will be juggled to
cover critical shortages and balance out the capabilities of the four
commands to the extent that we have the time and resources to move
them. With quadruple redundancy, even if we lose another region, we’ll
still be in the ball game with a fully capable force.
“Denver and a chunk of Northern California are out of commission.
We were fortunate that our transport aircraft at Travis and McClellan
made it into the air before the bombs went off. We have Gabriel to thank
for that. The only thing we lost up there from the operational point of
view is use of the airfields. We did lose some army and DOD support
units in the Denver area—may God rest their souls—but nothing we can’t
function without.
“Army units in Missouri are trekking north to secure the refugee
centers along the northern border. Oklahoma units and those of the
Southwest are falling in around key Army and Air Force bases in the
western half of the country to protect stockpiled high explosive or
unconventional weapons assets. We don’t expect a major land assault.
However, we are stacking concentric circles of security around key bases,
anything having nuclear/biological/chemical or high explosive assets,
resources terrorists might try to hijack to cause further large scale damage.
We may not have been able to stop what they’ve done so far, but we don’t
have to help our enemies do more by giving them our own weapons. Intel
suggests we have at least two groups of foreign terrorists, heavily armed,
one group possibly in possession of a dirty bomb, both moving West
looking for a target—looking for the optimum place and time to stab us in
the back again.
“Since Kentucky is expected to have to evacuate soon anyway we are
placing the 101st Airborne on highway patrol duty to set up random road
check points and watch for anything suspicious from the air. Their task is
to find that bomb. They will function as a rapid deployment super-SWAT
team and be augmented by assault helicopters and law enforcement units
from around the country.
“Through-the-wall viewing devices, Geiger counters, biowarfare lab
kits, gas chromatographs and chemical spectroscopy sets, aided by
satellite detection, in addition to directional sound microphones and
electronic data analysis will be massively deployed to spot suspicious
cargo. The larger part of our helicopters and light police aircraft are
already over the highways. Checkpoints should be going up anytime now.
Their locations will be completely randomized with the exception of
following Gabriel’s advice. We expect to be interrogating our first
suspects within the week.
“It goes without saying that these remaining terrorists would love to
find us, for we would make one of the best possible targets. The intel guys
we asked to plot their best expectation for the terrorist track across the
country put them more or less right on top of us. Stay alert. Keep your
rifles loaded and strapped.
“We aren’t going to let them distract us from our primary task,
however, the rebuilding effort. You all have key positions in the Gabrielbased CONUS force re-structuring effort. The laptop computers you see
in front of you are linked with the minicomputer behind the partition to
my right and the worldwide Gabriel network. The flashing green units on
the first map are currently unassigned. Your job is to manage those as
effectively as you can for immediate emergency response and relief
efforts. Over the longer term, we will weave the entire mess back together
one piece at a time into some semblance of the force structure capability
shown on the second map. That’s the structure we started with before the
lights went out. Gabriel is going to help us do this in no small part, so pay
attention to the alerts that come on screen.”
“I’ve got an alert now, chief! It’s priority one,” an Air Force colonel
exclaims, having just lifted the top of his new computer.
“Right.” General O’Connor is up and moving. “You have ground
attack resources, right?” The chief and the general look over the colonel’s
shoulder at the rapidly flashing screen alarm.
“Yes, ground attack: A-10s, F-22s, F-15 strike eagles, and also attack
choppers,” the colonel confirms.
“Right.”
A message is displayed. “General Wiles signed this message,” the
colonel reports. “The President’s seal follows.”
TOP SECRET
FROM: CHAIRMAN, US JOINT CHIEFS
SUBJECT: ODG AIRCRAFT REQUIREMENTS
TO: COMMANDER DOD CONUS HQ, PROVISIONAL;
ALL JTF; ALL MAJCOM
1. Israeli situation urgent. President’s position threatened.
Enemy overrun imminent.
2. IMMEDIATELY assign sixty (60) A-10 and two hundred
(200) air superiority fighters in support of Israeli
Operation David and Goliath (ODG), Priority Designator
1. Redirect rapid response and standby aircraft to this
requirement and backfill source units as additional
resources come online. Cannibalize priority 2 resources
as needed—any shortfall creation is authorized for higher
priority fill of ODG requirements.
3. Immediately assign one hundred and eighty (180) attack
helicopters for deployment to ODG.
4. Flight commanders will coordinate with U.S. AWACS,
code name Blue Spirit, at Israel-Syria border. Israeli
OpCenter will generate daily mission planning. Assume
air superiority and tank killing as the initial planning
concept. Daily surplus resources default to support Col.
Dan Yosef and the Blue Spirit joint Israeli/US auxiliary
combat support team mission.
6. Surge all additional aircraft to ODG as they become
available until this order canceled.
7. Naval air resources to be assigned by separate message.
8. Authority to balance competing requirements of worldwide
taskings is delegated to DOD HQ Provisional/CC (LG
Frank O’Connor).
AUTHENTICATION
General Leon Kenneth Wiles
Chairman, US Joint Chiefs
President Monty Lewis
CINC, US Forces
TOP SECRET
Captain Powell interrupts. “General O’Connor, General Wiles is on
the secure line. He is calling to confirm the aircraft assignment request in
Gabriel. The authentication numbers match.”
“Tell him it’s being done. We’ll confirm through Gabriel.”
“Yes, sir.”
General O’Connor leans in close to the screen.
“Select every tank killing resource that’s free, drag it into the message
action field and click comply. I’ll confirm by secure satellite phone. More
is better. Don’t fail to meet the minimum requested. Confirm everything
redundantly, satellite phone, cell phone, land line, secure phone, pony
express, love letter, whatever. Make sure we get this right. All you folks
here that: redundant confirmation!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Who’s got air superiority fighters, heavy bombers?”
“Right here, sir”
“Here, sir” a colonel, and a captain report.
“Send him everything you can find. Do it now. Let’s give this our full
attention. Briefing adjourned for three hours. Get to work.”
Two and a half hours later they are finalizing aircraft assignment
orders. The headquarters van crosses the Indiana border into Illinois,
bouncing through a cornfield. Refugee streams are stalled on the highway.
All terrain tracks are lowered and locked into place at the rear of the van
to ensure traction in the mud. It is one sloppy mess. The general leans out
the door to make sure they can pull through.
A very angry eight-man team of Air Assault troops from Fort
Campbell has three foreign looking men on the ground by the road, hightech submachine guns pressed closely in their frightened faces. The Air
Assault team leader orders the men handcuffed and taken away. Radiation
placards are placed on the moving van the terrorists were driving. An
Army sergeant pulls it into the middle of the field to await airlift to a
nuclear weapons storage area.
“There’s one that won’t go off!” General O’Connor remarks, leaning
out the open door of the van. “Atta way to go, guys! Thatta way to be!”
The Air Assault team leader sees three stars just in time to get off a quick
salute. O’Connor doesn’t return it; he has caught the eye of the terrorist
leader and is giving him what for with a gang-banger taunt, dancing
around, grapping his privates, pointing and jeering. “Don’t mess with the
USA, pal.”
An additional 75 ground attack aircraft and 140 Black Hawk
helicopters are diverted to the Middle East, with many squadrons of air
superiority fighters, and many heavy bombers. In-flight refueling
capability will not be available for the remaining several hundred aircraft
allocated to ODG for another twelve hours. It looks to be a long night.
Gabriel warns them that six of the F-15/F-16 squadrons should be
reserved for air defense augmentation of Europe, but they choose to act
contrary to the system based upon the urgency of General Wiles’
message.
“Steve, why don’t you tie up the technical procedure side of the
briefing while we have a break for…sodas,” O’Connor instructs. “We’ll
get a few hours’ sleep and come back to match the new tankers to the rest
of the Middle East package later.”
“Yes, sir.”
***
When the Israeli assault force personnel have reassembled in the
auditorium, the room is called to attention once more as Colonel Yosef
enters. He immediately puts them at ease. Buffet tables ring the huge
room with cold meats, bread and salads enough for two forces that size.
Little will be left, however. How well they know the additional nutrition
will inevitably be called for.
Father Bernie and the base commander hold an informal talk over the
PA system as the seasoned troops eat voraciously. Colonel Yosef opens
the discussion. “This first part of our departure briefing is an optional
religious event. Father Bernie feels there are certain uniquely spiritual
aspects to this battle that may affect the success of our mission.
Nonbelievers are excused from listening, those of faith are encouraged to
follow along. As most of you know by now, I am a man of faith. How can
this be so, Father? Even as a believer I must admit it is rare that the
supernatural can be of practical relevance to a military mission, beyond
the power of prayer itself, of course, which is never to be dismissed”
“I’ll be brief. The devil is presumed to be assisting our opposition.
Expect to see some pretty strange things, unlikely coincidences—not to
our advantage—maybe even dark miracles, something truly fantastic.
There is no way to anticipate what might happen. On the other hand, we
trust that God will be assisting us. Expect to see far greater things from
him. But prayer is what is necessary on our part, just as the Commander
here has cogently observed.”
Cheers break out from the young Israeli believers, believers who
quickly return to their meal not knowing when they can expect another
one not provided by bag or can..
“That’s really all I have General Yosef. Remember the PA system,
prayer and action, pray before you act. And, as your late Prime Minister
loved to say, never forget, and never give up!” Father Bernie has been
tipped off regarding Yosef’s promotion from Colonel to General, he slides
his chair back from the buffet table to make room for one of Yosef’s
aides.
“General Yosef is right, Father!” An administrative aide and a captain
from the intelligence corps burst into the auditorium and hand Colonel
Yosef his promotion orders to one star general along with a tactical update
message from the Israeli OpCenter respectively.
Colonel Yosef ignores the applause and the stars in the aide’s hand for
a moment while he reads the operational status message. “It will soon
begin. Our advanced forces are set to engage the enemy’s leading units
sixty miles inside the Syrian border. Full scale war is breaking loose at
any moment. We are requested to make best possible speed to their
assistance. This we shall do. Finish your meal. After Major Weizman’s
intelligence briefing we go to war.”
Colonel Yosef turns to his aide who hands him the general’s stars and
a new uniform shirt with stars affixed. The general strips off his shirt
revealing a rugged frame worthy of an amateur boxing or bodybuilding
crown. This body however is tempered by years of field maneuvers in the
desert sun and seasoned by combat. Two large abdominal scars remove
any doubts about the latter. No one argues with Big Dan. The auditorium
again breaks into raucous applause.
“Ask the gate if Major Weizman has arrived,” the general commands
an aide standing at the intercom near the stage exit.
“He’s at the gate, sir, but they have refused him access. It seems he is
not on the Army or the Air Force rolls. They think his ID is a forgery.”
The intelligence unit captain steps up to the intercom. “This is Captain
Fogleman. It is a forgery; it’s my forgery. He’s Mossad. I did that card
myself.”
“Not bad, Captain,” comes over the speaker, “but not good enough!
Do you authorize his entry?”
“I authorize it. Drive him to the auditorium immediately. Remember,
there’s a war on. We need less guards and more paratroops!”
“Yes, sir!”
“He’s coming, General—ten minutes.”
“Very well. Finish your meals.”
The general sits down to finish his. He’s going too. Transport pilot is
his secondary rating. He will be flying one of the American gunships as
copilot. Several of the American pilots were injured in the blast following
their arrival.
As a young major, Yosef once participated in an exchange program
with the U.S. Twenty pilots from each nation cross-trained in the other’s
aircraft. He doesn’t have many hours in the C-130, just enough to get it
off the ground. He’ll worry about landing later, in the unlikely event that
the plane comes back at all.
Major Weizman arrives. The general motions him to the meal first, for
which he is grateful. He has had a long flight from an undisclosed
location. He makes it a strong snack instead of a full meal, abbreviating
for the sake of the mission. Ten minutes later he assumes the podium and
begins the intelligence briefing.
“My name is Major Moshe Weizman. I work for the Mossad: senior
analyst, field agent, and control officer. I am also a tenured professor of
history at Bar Ilan University in Tel Aviv, and visiting Professor of
Military History at Hebrew University in New York. My briefing goes not
only to the technical aspects of the comparative status of conventional
forces, but also to the spiritual underpinnings of the current conflict,
extending back into the history of war from World War II. This last part is
more a review of military blunders than a proper history—but I have my
reasons. If the situations weren’t so tragic, it would be funny. I could call
the briefing ‘Greatest Military Bloopers of All Time.’ But, of course it is
tragic. Mistakes in war invariably are.
“But first the technical stats on the Russian T-55, T-70, and T-90 main
battle tanks, a massive fleet having unsurpassed speed and heavy
firepower, but very poor electronics. The weak spot in the design is the
ammunition storage magazine built into the turret. Russian crews do not
survive direct hits . . .”
After twenty minutes of further design specifications, Weizman
introduces his closing segment on military bloopers.
“First, this portion is an optional religious event. Participation is
voluntary. I should mention my personal faith: I am a messianic Jew; I
believe in Jesus Christ.
“I will give you only a representative sample of odd military blunders
and supernaturally imbued events to make my point, but history is replete
with many others. Practically every major campaign in history is strewn
with tragic blunders and inexplicable omissions.”44
Weizman picks up a long wooden rod with a red tip and points to his
briefing outline, projected onto the wall by computer.
“Number one: Russia gutting its own military in 1937: 40,000
experienced officers murdered and imprisoned. Included among the dead
was half the entire command staff of the army and navy! This was done
with full knowledge that Hitler’s Germany had begun a massive military
buildup, and that Hitler had announced he was considering a large chunk
of Russian territory his own. To make matters worse, the Russians then
trained the German panzer tank divisions and permitted development of
military tactics and equipment on Russian territory. Military development
was forbidden on German territory by the treaty of Versailles. Hitler’s
aggressions, which were ultimately to be trained back upon Russia
herself, would have been seriously impaired without this help. This
grievous error soon spawned horrendous tragedy for mother Russia when
Hitler turned on his kind host and invaded with a massive attack.
“Two: Shorting the United States Pacific theater forces in WWII of
needed planes and equipment only to have thousands of available
bombers destroyed undefended by fighter escort over Germany in the
early phase of the air war.
“Three: Germany’s opening the Russian front in WWII, pulling its
forces and attention to the east thereby delivering England from imminent
defeat at the very moment England was near capitulation from relentless
Nazi bombing raids. Good for the allies, but a terrible mistake for Hitler at
his moment of greatest advantage.
“Four: The unwise diversion of Nazi U-boat raiders from enormously
successful destruction of allied shipping in the Atlantic. Ditto the
previous: good for the allies, but a huge blunder for Hitler.
“The list goes on and on. We’ll skip the numbering from here.
“Russia tragically faking out the Polish resistance in Warsaw in WWII
is one of the saddest chapters in human history. Russia sent Polish
resistance a message calling them to action against their Nazi occupiers as
a massive Russian army stood ready on the outskirts of Warsaw. Russia
clearly implied that it was prepared to invade and free the city of German
occupation. The understanding was that they would coordinate their attack
against the occupying Germans with Polish resistance forces. The
Russians, however, waited. After calling the Poles to action, they did not
concurrently invade. Polish resistance, acting alone, heroically, and
perhaps surprisingly actually succeeded in temporarily freeing most of
Warsaw. Unfortunately, without Russia’s promised assistance, they could
not hold on indefinitely against German reinforcements. Still the Russians
stood by and watched. They did nothing as the Polish resistance, 100,000
brave men and women, was methodically decimated by a continuing
stream of fresh German reinforcements. Only then, when the brave Polish
resistance was no more, did Russian troops enter Warsaw and deliver it
from German occupation. This, of course, served Stalin’s political
purposes well. It removed any threat of Polish independence being
asserted following Russian occupation. But it was such a monumental
tragedy and moral violation that it crossed the threshold of a ruthless
political tactic into being something truly evil.
“Next, Joseph Stalin used hundreds of thousands of troops and
thousands of vehicles to kill and imprison millions of his own people for
minor or completely contrived offenses in the midst of World War II
when these forces were sorely needed at the front to support critical
offensives against Hitler’s invading armies.
“Then came the Korean war. Macarthur was not permitted to advance
beyond the 38th parallel in Korea when the opportunity was present for full
victory. Then there was the better-late-than-never approach to beefing up
U.S. forces in Korea. They were reinforced only after they had been
overrun by the Chinese in each of several offensives. The initial cadre of
U.S. Forces in Korea was told to stop the tanks, which were overrunning
the South Korean forces at will. What they were given as an antitank
weapon to do it with, however, was a model that had already been
established as ineffective during WWII. Consequently they also were
overrun with heavy losses.
“Cuba. The Joint Chiefs and CIA recommending the disastrous
clandestine Bay of Pigs invasion in conjunction with a Mafia-mediated
assassination attempt on Fidel Castro. Patriotic young Cuban expatriates,
1500 of them, were induced to risk their lives in an invasion attempt by
the U.S. military and intelligence planners. When they ran into stiff Cuban
resistance, Castro having been tipped off, the United States then totally
disavowed the operation and withdrew all support leaving the young
heroes stranded on the beaches. As a result, 150 of those young men never
left those beaches, and the rest suffered incarceration in Castro’s jails.
Secrecy was breached; Castro saw the whole thing coming and
imprisoned 22,000 Cuban citizens who might have assisted the U.S.sponsored coup attempt before the invasion force ever arrived. Hopes for
a free Cuba were shattered by the operation, and the newly elected young
Catholic president, John F. Kennedy, was faced with a choice of evils he
had been assured by his military experts would never arise: abandon our
promise to the honorable young warriors on the beach or conduct an open,
known to be U.S. supported, full-scale war with Cuba.
“Ensuing events were equally tragic and unbelievable. President
Kennedy was permitted to ride unprotected in a convertible through the
streets of Dallas so closely upon the heels of our own assassination
attempt on Castro. Kennedy had just backed down Russia, seriously
embarrassing Nikita Khrushchev in the nuclear missile standoff, and had
recently cowed by brute force the violent racists in the South, enforcing
the civil rights of blacks to the point of using United States Army units,
guns drawn. The Russians were angry, Castro was angry, the white
supremacists were angry . . . and the Mafia was angry.
“The president’s brother, Attorney General Robert Kennedy, with the
president’s full support, was close to completing investigations and
indictments of most of the top Mob bosses at the time.
“The horrendous blunder concerning Kennedy’s Bay of Pigs Cuba
invasion was that, at the very moment Kennedy was about to put the Mob
bosses away for good, the CIA invited some of the same mobsters or their
lieutenants into the Bay of Pigs operation. The mob was shown an
intricate plan of how to assassinate a head of state and introduced to
military assassination teams with the technical savvy to do the job. This
gave the Mob a means to both sabotage the small scale expatriate invasion
of Cuba by warning Castro in advance so that they could court his favor
for ownership rights of gambling operations in Cuba, and simultaneously
delivered into their hands a perfect cover story for their own assassination
of the man who was about to put them all behind bars.
“With fully unbelievable ineptitude, the CIA put into the hands of the
Mob the perfect tool for the murder of their own president, a team of
professional military assassins who could fire with deadly accuracy from
a distance, who could plan, coordinate and execute an assassination under
the noses of the world’s best security and law enforcement agencies, at
the very time the Mob sought nothing more urgently than to be rid of
President John Kennedy and his Attorney General brother, Bobby.
“Kennedy’s assassination bore not only the unmistakable earmarks of
a professional intelligence operation and cover-up, but appeared to be the
exact political reverse of the intended assassination scheme developed by
the CIA against Castro. Lee Harvey Oswald, the primary suspect in
custody, was himself assassinated two days after his capture before he
could reveal what he knew. New Orleans District Attorney Jim Garrison’s
investigation revealed tie-ins to both intelligence agencies and the Mafia,
much of which has since been redundantly confirmed. Although a
precedent was set in the reconstruction of WWII Italy for military and
intelligence cooperation with the Mafia to get important things done, it
was just dumb to invite them into the heart of CIA operations while
Kennedy was trying to put them all into jail or have them deported.
“No one who lived through the triple assassination sequence that took
the lives of the three predominant moral crusaders of the era, President
John F. Kennedy, Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and Senator
Robert Kennedy, believes such a thing could be fully a coincidence. Three
lone assassins acting for purely personal reasons take out the three
greatest moral crusaders with the most powerful social and political
impact? No. This was no accident of circumstance; it was a major power
play by powerful political and supernatural forces.
“These three crusaders for justice had together made enemies of just
about every political and social element on this earth willing to employ
violence to accomplish its goals, and the crazies just so happened to get to
all three of them first? It is too much to believe. They had also earned the
animosity of the notorious director of the FBI, J. Edgar Hoover, who was
alleged to have been a racist and blackmailer with Mob ties. Hoover may
ultimately be innocent of these charges, but the entire subject of
Kennedy’s assassination has been shrouded in a dark heavy spirit of evil
until this very day.
“The subsequent Warren Commission Report on the President’s
assassination pooh-poohed away District Attorney Jim Garrison’s
investigation, overlooking the fact that Kennedy was known to have made
powerful enemies and that the event sequence closely fit the profile of a
professional hit.45
“Dr. King’s assassination is directly relevant to the event before us
because the demonic spirit of racism is closely akin to demonic influence
that caused the irrational hatred of the Jews in WWII, and now this flareup of a centuries old irrational hatred of the nation of Israel in the Middle
East. How and why has Russia been so suddenly and virulently caught up
in this? Hatred of Israel has never been Russia’s thing. I propose that the
emergence of a major demonic influence in Russian leadership is the most
plausible answer. Valid national security logic does not support Russia
doing such a thing. The entire thing stinks, and it’s a paranormal bouquet.
But back to the march of military history.
“A few years after the triple assassinations came the tragic and
fruitless Vietnam War. One of the indefensible occurrences in that war
was the employment of irrational rules of engagement that hamstrung
American pilots and cost many of them their lives. The rules precluded
them from taking out the enemy’s air defense missile systems until after
they were shot at.46
“Then came Operation Desert Storm and the first Gulf War. There
Saddam inexplicably sacrificed to unstoppable and relentless coalition
aerial bombing nearly half a million Iraqi infantrymen dug in at the front.
His frontline troops, locked in place as they were, also had no hope of
stopping the massive highly mobile U.S. armored invasion force. It
simply drove around them. Their lives were forfeited for nothing. Why?
Another avoidable tragedy having the earmarks of something truly evil.
“After the war, although thousands of veterans fell ill and complained
that the war had caused their illness, the U.S. refused to acknowledge the
proven threat of the Mycoplasma fermentans incognitas (MFI) germ, this
despite the fact that the U.S. Army held the patent on the germ the entire
time! A Florida lab sent medical use stocks of the germ to Iraq prior to the
war. MFI has since been shown to be the cause of about half of the Gulf
War Illness that hit U.S. forces. French forces in the Gulf were not
affected by MFI/GWI; they mysteriously took corresponding antibiotics in
advance of entering the battlefield.
“The U.S. Department of Defense refused blood tests and
Doxycycline treatment to Gulf War veterans and their families after the
cause and treatment was identified by a Nobel Prize-nominated
microbiologist who informed both the Congress and the President’s
Commission on Gulf War Illness of his peer-reviewed research findings in
sworn testimony. Yet another mystery, tragic blunder, and indefensible
cover-up.
“Moving closer to the present time, why did the U.S. prevent its active
duty rapid response forces from rescuing the victims of Hurricane
Katrina? They could have easily been there the first day after the winds
abated—yet another unexplainable faux pas that resulted in fully
preventable tragedy.
“In the same event, Katrina, FEMA failed to integrate U.S. Fish &
Wildlife Service personnel into the rescue operation after USFWS offered
assistance. Receiving no response to their offer, USFWS personnel
ultimately went in on their own initiative. Being trained and experienced
with boats, they rescued some 4,500 people at risk of drowning or
perishing from exposure and dehydration. How could expert disaster
response personnel in FEMA have made a decision from competence and
good intentions that would fly so flagrantly in the face of common sense
and, but for the persistence of USFWS, preclude 4,500 individual
rescues? There’s something really fishy about all of that.
“More recently, DOD provided inadequate vehicle and body armor for
U.S. troops in the bomb-ridden environment of Iraq. Could something so
obvious be an honest mistake for the very people who have the best
technical information available and are the most knowledgeable on
military operations?
“Likewise, why the failure to provide heavily armed escorts for Iraqi
police recruits after massacre upon massacre of Iraq’s new cadets?
“Let’s stop and take a breath for a moment.” Major Weizmann does
just that, grabbing a sip of water, then returns to the topic. “Now comes
the question. What do all of these tragic and irrational events have in
common?”
The room is silent—stunned by the cumulative tragedy of the endless
stream of avoidable fiascos that has plagued human history—though the
same thought has occurred to everyone there.
Father Bernie, a bit of a military historian himself, risks saying aloud
what everyone else is thinking: “Stupidity?”
“Yes! Stupidity!” the major confirms. “Certainly stupidity. But why
stupidity from experts in military strategy and emergency response at
critical times when so much was at stake in terms of human death and
suffering? Stupidity from subject matter experts acting within their area of
expertise? It doesn’t happen.”
Father tries again: “I see your point. In that case we are left with either
hidden human political agendas, supernatural evil, or possibly divine
intervention to enact mercy or punishment, possibly human political
agendas augmented by the supernatural, such as with the Nazi slaughter of
the Jews, and the Communist’s persecution of the Church.”
“Yes, Father, yes, that is right. We are left with politics or the
supernatural because sound problem solving logic is visibly missing in all
of these events, and both factors can come into play in the same event.
“Stalin did have a visible self-serving political logic, but what he did
to the hundred thousand patriotic Poles at Warsaw and then to millions of
his own people at home was so undeniably evil as to suggest the demonic
regardless of his hardline view of how to build a strong nation.
“All of these actions either made no sense or they were flagrantly
inhumane. They accomplished only one thing: the extension of the horror,
suffering, sorrow and tragedy of war and disaster. The devil’s agenda was
the only thing being served, his hatred of the human race and his intent to
destroy it.
“Conversely, where God’s intervention was involved, such as in
propitiating key blunders of Nazi Germany and the against-all-odds
victory of the U.S. Navy in demolishing the Japanese fleet at the Battle of
Midway, the result was a reduction in tragedy. God’s intervention
shortened the time to allied victory and prevented the evil of fascism from
dominating the world.
“Supernatural influence upon events and upon the decision makers,
either satanic or divine: that is my thesis. This is a reality of war that we
must now be prepared to deal with. This assault on Israel makes no sense,
not from the point of view of Russia’s long-term interest. It will only
produce terrible suffering on both sides. Even with the terrorist bombs in
the U.S. having debilitated civilian life in approximately a quarter of the
nation, the U.S. military remains far superior to the threat. There will only
be mass suffering in the meantime pending the delivery of the full U.S.
response.
“Our opponent is the devil in this crisis as certainly as it is those
nations who oppose us. I speculate that Satan began gearing up his final
assault upon God’s Church and the human race sometime before World
War I and that all of the major and most of the minor wars that followed
are, at least in part, his doing. They are instruments of that assault.
Certainly the horrendous atrocities that accompanied these wars,
genocide, torture, rape, poverty, plague and homelessness have Satan’s
fingerprints all over them. He hates us because we are made in the image
of God, against whom he has irrevocably rebelled with supernatural
malice.
“In a sense, all of these wars are parts of the same prolonged conflict,
what the Bible calls the battle of Armageddon. The most direct corollary
to the Bible’s description of Armageddon was the six-day war of 1967,
where Israel, surrounded by vastly larger armies, nonetheless achieved a
stunning victory. This was due in no small part to “fire from the sky.” In
that case the fire came from air superiority fighters and modern artillery.
But, Armageddon is a larger event that includes all nations, as Christians
have now been added to God’s people, limbs grafted onto the Jewish tree
by Christ the Messiah’s extending salvation to all who will accept his gift.
“During that six-day war Egypt committed several major blunders in
the grand tradition of those we have been discussing here. She threw out
viable war plans at the last minute in favor of playing directly into Israel’s
strengths. Then, upon being defeated by Israel, Egypt foolishly gave
bogus intelligence to her own allies, Jordan and Syria, who had yet to
engage the Israeli forces, falsely asserting that Israel’s air force had been
largely decimated in battles with the Egyptians. This was done to allow
Egypt to temporarily save face among the Arab peoples. However, that lie
also produced a false confidence in Syria and Jordan that resulted in both
Syria and Jordan subsequently losing their air forces in engagements with
the vastly superior and, in fact, undiminished, Israeli Air Force.
“This is a perfect match to the pattern we see in the Old Testament
where God routs the enemies of his people by inducing panic and selfdefeating behaviors. Minus supernatural influence, most of these
historical blunders are fully inexplicable.
“The twenty-five year term of Pope Leo XIII extended up to and
through the end of the nineteenth century into the early years of the
twentieth. Pope Leo said that St. Michael, aided by the prayers and active
faith of Christians on earth, would render Satan a humiliating defeat. Pope
Leo speculated that Satan might again be confined in the bottomless pit,
thus implying that the devil was loose at the time. Some people of faith,
with whom I have had the privilege to consult in high places during my
travels, have suggested to me that, if humanity expresses its faith in God
and prays for help, this could be the result of the present conflict, the
confinement of Satan back into the pit.”
“Alleluia!” comes from Joe up front and several others.
“Be this as it may, we have both historical precedent and a known
spiritual theme on our side to offset the numerical disadvantage we now
face. God has historically required his people to send only a
comparatively much smaller force against their enemies. This is done so
that the resultant victory will accrue to God’s credit and there will be no
doubt that God defends his people.
“Because of the supernatural element that the hypothesis of an
extended Armageddon introduces, we must now beware sudden
manifestations of supernatural power that could erupt on the battlefield in
unpredictable ways. These might range from fully subtle unseen
influences to events shockingly dramatic.
“The important thing to remember, the one and only thing predictable
according to scripture, is the biblical rule of faith itself: keep praying and
victory will be ours. The ‘PA system’: it’s easy to remember: prayer
before action. The Israelites were always victorious as long as Moses
followed God’s instructions. When he kept his hand outstretched exerting
the Lord’s spiritual force over the battlefield—a continuous expression of
faith—Israel routed her enemies. So pray always in your heart for God’s
favor, words are not essential to prayer. This should not be done selfishly,
but in the true Christian spirit that values the welfare of all, even our
enemies. We seek a good outcome for all, not just for ourselves.
“True, there are potentially other biblical themes to consider. The
possibility of God using Russia as he once used Assyria, Babylon and
other militant nations to punish his own people, viz. Zephaniah’s
doomsday prophecy, cannot be ruled out. To the extent that God intends
the destruction of Israel as a punishment, it will happen, of course. It
wouldn’t be the first time.
“But we have not been guided by the Spirit to stand down our
defenses, and the consensus view of prophetic scripture says otherwise.
One cannot fully anticipate God’s will, of course. Israel was once fully
destroyed in a chastisement from God, its people exiled, and clearly the
United States has already been severely chastised. The Churches there are
God’s people too.
“What will ultimately happen in the chain reaction of events that
follow the initial military showdown we are about to embark upon today,
is known only to God.
“The good news that I see in the history of supernatural intervention in
military conflict is that whereas the devil tried unsuccessfully to block the
progress of U.S. and allied forces and others representing freedom and
moral rectitude, causing unnecessary casualties and the extension of the
tragedy of war, God’s intervention in WWII and throughout the history of
Israel has always been decisive. It brought about an allied victory, and
with it improved prospects for freedom and justice for all of humanity. It
preserved Israel’s very existence time and time again against constantly
overwhelming odds. There was a high price paid, but the heroes and
victims of war have eternal reward and divine healing waiting in heaven.”
The general nods. “Anything else, Major, we have 20,000 tanks
expecting us for tea? One hates to disappoint.”
“Just this: the contamination of the experimental vaccines has been
identified. It is a new variant of Mycoplasma fermentans incognitas. We
can’t track it to a biowarfare laboratory as we did the first one, so it is
apparently an accidental byproduct of research that has somehow gotten
past quality control. Accidental from the perspective of demonstrable
human intentions, but almost certainly an event made to happen by
supernatural intervention.
“Affected combat forces are being placed on long-term Doxycycline
treatment to keep the infection at bay. It is almost impossible to eradicate
this germ from the body. It hides inside cells where the immune system
can’t find it. MFI has no cell wall, which further complicates matters
because the immune cells can’t identify it when it is found.
“The good news is that Doxycycline will resolve any serious
symptoms and is also a great cancer fighter. We will need all the help we
can get in the chemical and radioactive environments we expect to
encounter.
“No critical harm is expected from completing the series of
experimental shots. They do work for their intended purpose. The
Doxycycline will take care of the risk of further contamination.
“Your medicine will be issued before you leave. Double up on it for a
while, 500 milligrams per day, then bring it down to a maintenance dose
of 300 to 200 milligrams to manage the long term infection. The
temporarily higher dose will also protect you against many other
biowarfare germs the enemy may throw at us.
“Remember, this treatment is what saved the French from getting Gulf
War Illness in the first war: take the pills. You can expect some digestive
problems at the higher dose; antibiotics kill the good bacteria in the gut
that are necessary to digest food, but the protection is worth it. Those
bacteria can be replaced. Take large doses of probiotic tablets or capsules
with your meals for this purpose, and minimize sun exposure. Use heavy
sunscreen. You will be issued high potency probiotic capsules to keep
your digestion normal, and 45-70 factor sunscreen.
“That’s all I have. Remember, we have two enemies. One you can see;
one you cannot. Prayer is the weapon of choice for the invisible one.
“That concludes my briefing, General.”
“Thank you, Major. By the way, I’ve been told you speak several Arab
language dialects and that your Farsi is also excellent.” General Yosef
looks over to his executive officer for confirmation of Weizmann’s
language skills, and gets a nod in the affirmative. “How would you like to
accompany. . . Major Weizman? Where’s the major?”
The assembled troops who were focused on Major Weizman during
the briefing stand aghast. One moment he was there, in the next he wasn’t.
“What happened?” General Yosef asks his aide.
“I’m not sure, sir. I was looking at the major and then . . . ”
“And then what?”
“And then I wasn’t looking at him . . . he disappeared into thin air!”
“Well if you happen to find him, and I suggest the latrine, as a heavy
500 milligram dose of antibiotics can send you there on short notice, give
him his orders. He’s coming with us as translator. The rest of us are going
to war, starting right now.”
“Yes, General.”
“Fallout and form your teams gentlemen. The helicopters are warming
up. I’ll see you all in Syria. Dismissed!”
—End Part III
PART IV
Unless You Become as One of These Little
Ones You Will Not Enter Heaven
Luke 18:16-17 NAB
Let the children come to me and do not prevent them; for the
kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Amen, I say to you,
whoever does not accept the kingdom of God like a child will
not enter it.
CHAPTER 9
Moscow and the Magic Kingdom
General Yosef has telephoned the acting Israeli Prime Minister from
a forward battlefield position just beyond the Syrian border. He listens to
his nation’s boss, having explained newly arisen doubts about Operation
David and Goliath.
“Our information originates at the highest levels, Danny. You must
know this,” the Prime Minister assures him.
“I know who you are talking about, Ari, that asshole Boriskiev. I am
still on Mossad’s briefing list. In fact, they asked me to run the military
intel shop. They want an ally over there that won’t stab them in the back
at staff meetings. But I’m shooting for your job.”
“It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy, Danny—best of luck. But, hear me
out, we have never had a source that high in the Kremlin.”
“High, yes. Reliable, no. If Boriskiev gave me directions to the Men’s
Room after twenty hours on a plane, I would walk six blocks to ask
someone else. I’m giving my troops orders to hold their fire pending
further instructions. I recommend you issue the same orders to the
primary battle group. We cannot attack without confirmation—too many
conflicting signals. The Americans’ Combat Decision Support System,
Gabriel, has been screaming corrupted data warnings for the past thirtysix hours now. For once, I am forced to agree with a computer. It isn’t
possible that the Russian armored brigades have multiplied so fast. It
would take huge underground factories thirty years! It can’t be done, Ari;
our intel is better than that. We would have caught them at it. Therefore it
can’t be real. Our previous Russian force estimates are reliable. The
Russians would be lucky to field 15,000 tanks in working order at any one
moment. Their having two forces of 20,000 is unthinkable.
“On top of the impossible math, I trust my instincts. I have been at this
game too long. The Russians here in front of me have no sense of
urgency; it is like they are on holiday.”
Lying prone, Yosef peers through binoculars, inching his head up over
the crest of the hill that he and his bodyguard have climbed to view the
approaching Russians. “I am looking at them right now, Ari. The tank
commanders are sitting out in the sun drinking Starka and eating tins of
caviar as we speak. I know this unit. It is led by battle hardened senior
officers who have been there and done that. They don’t play around in the
middle of a war. No way are these people going to war. They probably
have their bathing suits packed. Joking, laughing, smoking, no sense of
urgency, no tension. It’s wrong Ari, very, very, wrong.
“Our current intelligence reports must be awry. This stands to be the
biggest foul-up in the history of military intelligence! If not for Gabriel’s
warnings our strike force would have taken the Russians’ heads off by
now, and you know what that means: tit for tat. They are going to come
right back at us, and we’ll know it when they do. When all is said and
done, Ari, I cannot guarantee you that there is a genuine Russian attack in
progress!”
“OK, big Dan, I get it, already. So, what is the source of the corruption and how do we fix it?”
“That’s just it. We don’t know. Everyone is at a loss. The Russians
deny having fielded any such force. Gabriel has deduced faulty satellite
transmissions, but the technicians on scene can’t find anything wrong.
Our own people in Russia say to flip a coin. They have two stories, both
equally reliable, both from high level sources, yet both cannot be true at
the same time.
“The American colonel, Bishop Shasta, has the most plausible
explanation: supernatural tomfoolery. I concur. If this were a normal
military intelligence knot we would have untied it by now. Unfortunately,
merely identifying the source as supernatural does not show us the
problem or the solution.”
“Of course it shows us the solution: prayer is the solution!” Where do
you think your family name, Yosef, comes from, popular novels; no, it
comes from the Pentateuch, the Torah, from the Word of God.”
“Our secular leaders would laugh that off, Ari, but I am not one of
them. I serve the Lord God. I will pray. But right now I need you to
cancel the attack order until we can force some sanity onto this situation
and ferret out the missing pieces.”
“And I, for my part, will not overrule my most experienced combat
commander in time of war. The main battle group will not attack. If it’s
supernatural, we will first go to someone who understands such things,
our Jewish clerics, the pope, the Greek and Russian Patriarchs.”
“I suggest starting with the pope to save time, Ari. He is also a head of
state and has his own budget and investigative resources.”
The Prime Minister agrees. “Shalom, Danny. I will speak with the
pope.”
After doing this, the Israeli Prime Minister sends the Patriarch of the
Russian Orthodox Church an encrypted message via the Israeli
intelligence network in Russia. His coded cable requests that some way be
found to validate the hypothesized monster attack as genuine. The
Russian primate then separately confers with the pope. The pope informs
him that he has a man closely embedded in the situation, Bishop Shasta.
Shasta however has been called to a related mission, confirming the
intentions of the advance elements of the Red armored columns in Syria.
The Patriarch will have to select one of his own to go to the Russian
buildup site south of the Crimea.
***
His Holiness the Patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church sits down
to think in his office in Moscow. Ah, yes. Spiridonov. The exorcist. So this
is why he has come from his beloved flock in St. Petersburg. Somehow
this man always manages to stay a step ahead of me . . . but I love him,
and he loves field trips. He will go. If this is the devil’s handiwork,
Spiridonov will make short work of it.
***
President Anton Nekrutenko has arrived via chauffeured limo for a
visit to the port city of Novorossiysk where CIA satellite photos show an
enormous Russian military buildup in progress. A massive armored force
and associated logistical stockpiling has been reported to fill a 100-mile
area south of a line from Rostov to Georgia. Nekrutenko has authorized
no such force. The reported numbers exceed his military capability
reports.
With him is newly appointed Archbishop Nikolay Spiridonov of the
Russian Orthodox Church in St. Petersburg. They are childhood cohorts,
Anton and Nikolay—tough kids, but good ones, and ferocious allies. A
friendly word over dinner was sufficient to arrange Spiridonov’s
cooperation. “It is not a problem. His Holiness the Russian Patriarch has
already ask me to go down there,” Spiridonov informs his President, “and
delegated complete Church authority.”
So they go, these two friends, riding down together in the Presidential
limo. Nothing is observed, however, that is, until the Archbishop issues
prayers of exorcism. This reveals a demonic shape of hideous
countenance and enormous proportions. The monster is visible only to
those supernaturally affected by the demon’s own powers (such as
Boriskiev) or blessed with the temporary grace of spiritual discernment
conveyed through the Archbishop’s prayers and blessings issued in
connection to the exorcism.
“Look! A regional demonic power in all his putrid glory!”
“Augh!” The Chairman opens the door of his limo to vomit. Coming
to himself he quickly swallows some vodka from the sealed gift stock he
always keeps on hand. The law permits no open containers in vehicles,
however. He will dispose of this one before traveling home. The
chauffeur will not drink.
“What kind of trick is this?” The President presses his eyes closed and
looks again, stunned by the horrible presence. “Can such a thing be real?”
“Fallen angels are all too real, Comrade Chairman. Though not
authentically physical, angels can take physical form. In the book of Tobit
the archangel Raphael, a good angel, assumed a form indistinguishable
from the physical. Demons are real enough, though normally invisible.”
“I . . . I am seeing a vision, a mirage . . . what is this? There are
photographs, an enormous army.”
“The army is yours, Comrade Chairman, at least CIA thinks it is yours,
thanks to the shenanigans of this evil creature.”
“Can it do such things?”
“The power of an angel is vast indeed, Comrade Chairman. Give me a
moment to find out more. We may not yet know the worst. I will place
this supernatural dog under the authority of Christ. Demons can do dark
miracles, break the rules of nature outright if God does not forbid them.
Has God given them some standing permission, a certain degree of
tolerance, a limited freedom of action or a special dispensation perhaps
for his own purposes in the end of days struggle? I do not know. I can
only say that it is possible.”
The Archbishop makes the sign of the cross, splashes holy water and
begins the exorcism. “I adjure you, dog from hell, by the Power of Christ
and the authority of His Holy Church . . . ”
For some minutes of holy prayers and powerful adjurations the battle
ebbs and flows between the surges of the demon and the faith of the
Archbishop. With a last desperate splash of holy water the Archbishop
summons all of his faith. The demon collapses and begins to babble in an
unknown tongue.
“Aha! My President, the damage may not be beyond repair. This
mirage/vision that you saw, or something like it, is what the American
satellite is transmitting. I have extracted that much with the initial prayers.
Millions have seen the ‘photographs,’ yet it is not real. The purpose is to
provoke an American first strike into Russian territory, to guarantee a
worldwide holocaust.”
“Dear God!”
“You believe in God, Comrade Chairman?”
President Nekrutenko assumed the additional title and position of
Chairman of the Government (Premier) in the aftermath of a recent power
struggle. Some radical conservatives have been talking of a new Union,
greater than before. The same group orchestrated a recent coup attempt
against President Nekrutenko and his allies in government. This revolt,
led by the previous hardline premier, was defeated by the timely
intervention of Chairman Nekrutenko’s security chief and with the active
support of the armed forces.
“Not officially. I told only our beloved leader, Comrade Putin, before
he left to lead the UN. He always went to church, Comrade Putin—a good
man. Putin had enough time in the KGB to be devoid of fear of Party
backlash; I have enough time in the KGB to fear it. The longer you stay
the more enemies you make. No one knows of my faith, but I will soon
announce it.”
“How did it happen? The state did not teach you this.”
“The Billy Graham Crusade in Moscow.” Nekrutenko renders a few
bars in booming bass: “Oh Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder…
“Only Billy could come to Russia, and of course Reverend Schuler of
the Crystal Cathedral, and the pope. Even atheistic Communists respond
to genuine charisms; they just didn’t understand where they come from.”
“Some of them found out. I was not alone in my conversion at that
glorious meeting. Thousands came trickling down from the top of
Moscow Olympic Stadium. ‘Just get up out of your seat and start
walking,’ Graham said. ‘No matter how long it takes to get down here,
we’ll wait. We’ll say a quiet prayer together.’
“And that is exactly what Reverend Graham did. He said a prayer with
group after group after group. Those last to be blessed left for home many
hours after the presentation had ended. That prayer took a great burden off
of my life, Comrade Archbishop. Joy has not ceased from that day. But I
digress . . .continue with your holy rite, Archbishop. We must gather the
facts needed to render a proper response.”
Spiridonov prays and issues commands in the authority of Christ’s
Church. He splashes holy water copiously in the direction of the
horrendous animalistic chimera gloating from the valley opposite. It has
partially regained its strength during his pause. Now it’s wrath flares,
sensing the crucial moment. It rises to an enormous height, towering over
the state limo. All is stench and nausea; they hold their breath.
The Archbishop leans out the window and spits. “Thpuewt. Take that
to hell when you go! In the name of Christ, his beloved Church and all
that is holy . . . ” Splash! The demon is down again, on its haunches
groveling. It concedes the battle to Christ’s greater power and authority,
spitting out the needed data against its own will in a variety of strange
tongues. The meaning of these ancient languages is discernible only to the
Archbishop who has the gift of interpretation of tongues. The air clears;
the horrible entity lies still, and its form begins to fade. Finally it fully
dissipates amidst tongues of cleansing holy fire.
The Chairman grins. “Job well done, Comrade Archbishop. What have
you learned?” He permits himself another drink in celebration.
“Comrade Chairman, American forces are well and strong, but CIA is
wounded. . . perhaps beyond repair. The Langley OpCenter is destroyed.
A mere three specialists in Australia are reading this demonically
generated signal and advising DOD remotely. They ‘see’ many more
tanks in the advance columns than are actually there as well as a huge
reserve force in this area, which simply does not exist. CIA analysts are in
the habit of claiming surety on less corroborated information than this.
Unequivocal satellite images evoke a full confidence rating. Why would
they question it? It comes from high technology.
“Two middle-aged desk jockeys and a twenty-year-old electronics
technician fall to demonic affliction and the world is destroyed! All
because of the ludicrous assumption that the intelligence bureaucracy
could not possibly be wrong. It is unthinkable!”
“You know much for a mere priest, Comrade Archbishop, too much, I
am thinking. Are you also an American spy? They threaten a voting
majority in the Duma!”
“Nyet, my beloved Chairman. Loyal Russian. But the Vatican knows
things . . . and we . . . talk.”
“Very well, Comrade Archbishop. It is a matter for the Church. I did
not hear it mentioned because you did not say it.
“My beloved Comrade Archbishop, bring some of your best men
down here and post them permanently until we can clear all of this up.
Instruct them to continue to exorcise any of these supernatural parasites
back to hell if the problem recurs. The demonic stench fouls our beautiful
countryside . . . tourism may decline.”
“It shall be done as you instruct, Comrade Chairman. This one is
dead.”
“Dead? Fallen angels can be killed?”
“No, not literally, in the sense of going completely out of existence.
But dead in the sense of gone from this world. St. Paul, of course stated
that we shall be the judge of angels, and Christ gave power over the
demons to his apostles who passed it on their successors. Being in that
line of succession, modern bishops hold that power and delegate it to their
priests who are exorcists. In any case, as far as we are concerned the
putrid thing is no more. With world war impending, I thought it best to
terminate it immediately before more harm is done. Boriskiev will be
crushed to learn of the demon’s departure. This one was a major regional
power: Boriskiev’s ticket to control, fame and glory, or so he must have
thought.”
“Boriskiev is behind this? I will launch him into space (no suit)!”
“He will be little less obtrusive here on earth now that his supernatural
powerbase is gone. But know this, my friend and President, these horrid
things are possibly infinite in number. Another may take the place of this
one. The task could exhaust my priests, though I will continue to send
them on your instructions. Fortunately, the good angels outnumber the
bad two to one. Heaven will defend us. But if hell has been fully opened
for just punishment, only the merciful grace of God will turn it aside. The
Church will continue to pray for that grace and mercy.
“As for the immediate problem, the photos do show tanks, Comrade
Chairman. I have no doubt of it. But computers, once mechanically
impaired or overwhelmed with too much data, can vomit upon themselves
as drunken men.
“Consider this too; a natural explanation of so-called dark miracles
must always be possible until God himself decides to directly reveal the
presence of the devil per 2 Thessalonians chapter two. Once a demon has
struck a blow to our world and fled they will wish to maintain plausible
deniability. The devil does not wish to himself prove the reality of God to
the entire materialistic world. It is counterproductive to Satan’s goals and
methods to be discovered. By supernaturally blundering about here for an
extended time, Satan could inadvertently be caught out if events are
otherwise inexplicable via natural means.
“There must, therefore, be a physical malfunction or humanly
orchestrated compromise in the satellite data processing system, perhaps a
manufacturing flaw built in via supernatural coordination when the
equipment was made. It has been sitting there waiting for just the right
twitch of damage to set it off. Something of this kind. Who knows what it
will turn out to be, exactly?”
“What!!!? You do not know what is wrong, specifically?”
Nekrutenko is crushed by this apparent failure.
“I thought the dog-faced boy told all; he was under the authority of
Christ!”
“He told me all he knew. Demons are not omniscient. A number of
demons were involved. They compromised both satellites and data
processing technicians, tried to lay the groundwork for several options.
The demon chose not to track which option was employed—only the
humans know it. Humans have free will under God’s plan; an exorcist
can’t force them to tell what they know. You do the same thing with
foreign travelers, do you not, Comrade Chairman? Restrict their access to
state secrets? If they are waylaid during travel and interrogated by the
enemy they have nothing to tell. Those who know things don’t travel.
Simple logic. Standard security practice is it not, my Chairman?”
“It is so, though such a policy is impossible to fully comply with.”
“I discovered this much. A closer analysis of the photos will show
replicated serial numbers and other unique characteristics, vehicle flaws,
physical damage, etc. It will reveal the same images cut, copied and
pasted hundreds of times over. These false duplicates will be found
overlaid upon what should be the image of a peaceful countryside—that
is, if anyone takes the trouble to look.
“Right, but why should they take the trouble? With the destruction of
the U.S. Capital, no one doubts the overriding assumption of impending
world war; many perhaps now simply wish it.
“The fictitious data replications could be arranged by something so
simple as the secret installation of a data reprocessor at the satellite
ground processing station. Conceivably this could have been added inside
the satellites themselves, though it would be difficult to get past security
inspections that precede launch. Artificially constructed canned images
could be substituted for a seemingly live feed, current and stored data
could be electronically blended, and so on. The U.S. presumably has less
photographic data on our forces than we have, my President. Your KGB,
or as I think you now call it, the SVR, would therefore be most likely
suspect in this latter case, Comrade Chairman, the military analysts, or
someone higher.”
“They teach electronic surveillance at Bible seminary now!!!?”
“No, Comrade Chairman. I learned these things from the school of
Tom Clancy, and as I said, I talk with the Church leaders abroad . . . and .
. . their staff. The demon himself told me as much. But there remain
pieces of the puzzle he didn’t know.”
“I understand, my friend. Satan will want to keep us from thwarting
his plans by restricting data access to need to know. It shall be checked
and checked again. You say Boriskiev knows . . . then I know . . . or I will
know, if I have to drag him into the boxing ring at Olympic stadium. I too
have lost personal friends in this. It shall not stand. The problem will be
found. I have long smelled a rat. But he was too close to home to track,
ever at my right hand.
“It starts to make sense. Before the blasts, when U.S. reconnaissance
flights started to show up following this mysterious building of tensions,
they were turned back. Somehow we were always tipped off. We knew
the U.S. flight schedules, the altitudes, the itineraries—some of the best
intelligence we have ever had. Too good, I am now thinking. In the past
two months, we turned back six manned flights in sequence before they
could penetrate 100 miles into Russian air space. Four high tech U.S.
drones were destroyed, the same ones that are nearly impossible to find.
“When they come this time, we will not interfere. We want the U.S. to
know we are not in attack mode. What are the U.S. surveillance platforms
likely to see, Comrade Archbishop, now that the supernatural interference
is gone?”
“Flaws in satellite performance should begin coming to the surface. A
change in the natural is always tied to the supernatural. The U.S will be
forced to check and revalidate its data. Satellite performance will be
questioned. Manned and unmanned overflights will be dispatched in an
effort to show the true picture. They will now get it. Unfortunately, you
do have 2,000 real tanks en route to Iran and Syria per an equipment
purchase agreement.”
“True, my Archbishop, some small risk of misinterpretation remains,
but doubt will also remain. With so much at stake, neither the U.S. nor
Israel will strike within our borders on the basis of conflicting reports.
“You have done well, Comrade Archbishop. The children of Russia
congratulate you!”
“You honor me, my Chairman. For God and country!”
“God and country!” They share a stout pull on their respective silver
vodka flasks. Nekrutenko has presented his Archbishop with one as
provision for extended duty in the countryside.
“Not overly cold here in the South, Comrade Archbishop. The locals
tell of fearsome vipers, however. This will keep you well if you are
struck. Offer none to the likes of him, should any return,” the Chairman
instructs, glaring at the spot left vacant by the hideous shape revealed by
Spiridonov’s exorcism. He shakes his head. “May God help us all.”
“I will take precautions, Comrade Chairman. And I will station priests
in the area. We will continuously issue the Holy Rite of Exorcism to
preclude a recurrence of demonic infestation until the threat of war has
passed.”
“I am in your debt, Comrade Archbishop. Dahs veedahnyeh, my
friend! I leave you to implore the blessed Lord God to defend us. I must
now call my other friend, the American buckaroo, Monty Lewis. Perhaps
God will smile on me and he will be absent. I can then speak to his
gloriously beautiful wife, Anna. She wears the pants in the family you
know.”
“Things will undoubtedly be done faster this way, my Chairman. May
God smile on all you do.”
“Until we meet again . . . my Archbishop. I am a Baptist now, right?”
the Chairman chuckles, intending to become Russian Orthodox in the
upcoming weeks.
“We will talk, Comrade Chairman. For now, I must find a residence
here and get to work pending the arrival of our priests.”
They exchange a laugh, a straight look into the eyes, and a Russian
bear hug followed by much shoulder slapping.
The Chairman is not a fool, of course, only a comedian. Nor does he
hold disdain for the Protestant churches. He truly considers himself also a
member of the church of his beloved Billy Graham though he is not fully
sure which church that is. There is only one God and one larger Church.
He merely gests. Laughter is the best medicine, after all. His doctor has
advised him that his liver is failing. The prognosis is not good.
Anton has always lived with gusto; but now . . . well, now he will
cherish each remaining moment. Fortunately, he believes in an afterlife
and has every hope of obtaining it in Christ. He will no longer take this
life too seriously, if he ever did.
The Russian President lets his life-long friend out of the limousine
with an affectionate wave. “A long way from the schoolyard, Nikolay!”
“Yes, my Chairman.” Spiridonov watches his President depart. He
flips open a cell phone to call additional priests to the scene. Three
experienced priests, all prelates of the Patriarch’s staff in Moscow, hastily
pack kits for exorcism. They are en route to the airport within minutes.
The regional exorcism will proceed continuously in two-man shifts,
twelve hours each, until completed.
The Archbishop takes a hearty slug of Vodka. He prefers strong red
wine, a good Shiraz or Merlot, of course, but this will have to do. He
advances aggressively upon the countryside, extending a large ornate
cross ahead and then to the sides. “In the name of the Father, and of the
Son and of the Holy Spirit . . . ”
The scripture, a text of the Holy Rite of Exorcism, and additional vials
of holy water are snapped into pouches along his belt. His backpack has
some rudimentary food and water.
Determining that the field is temporarily clear, he kneels to begin a
Rosary for the safety of his priests. If Moshe were here they would be well
fortified indeed . . . . Only the pope, the Russian Patriarch and he know
about Moshe.
“God is Great!” he exclaims loudly to the empty landscape.
“God is great!” is unexpectedly returned by an old peasant farmer
plodding up behind with a horse cart. He coughs harshly.
“Are you well my father?” the Archbishop inquires with genuine
concern. The old man does not sound good at all.
“As can be expected. Fuel is scarce. My wife is now gone. The lord
keeps us well, just the same.”
He doesn’t say that he can’t afford medicine for a treatable form of
tuberculosis. An unexpected attack bends him over in a violent paroxysm.
The archbishop winces. “Which farm is yours?”
“The yellow one, there on the hillside just to the west. It’s not much. A
few goats, three bulls, some chickens, plots of vegetables. I worked thirty
years for a horse breeder.”
He pauses to cough. “I became very expert, but my master’s stables
were auctioned when he died. He left me enough to buy this little place—
a great kindness.
“I know horses, but I cannot afford them. My son, an army sergeant,
used to send me a calf to raise twice a year before he was killed . . .
Afghanistan. When the three bulls that are left have been sold . . . ?
Perhaps a collective apartment; I am not fond of the idea.”
“I’m so sorry to hear of the death of your son. I will pray for him. The
yellow house, you say?”
“Yes.”
“I am a priest in God’s Church. I have work in this area. May I have
your permission to visit your house?”
“You are most welcome, but I can provide little for your comfort.”
“Give it no thought. I will bring a few things to the purpose. Here,
Comrade, in honor of your brave son. A personal gift from our glorious
Chairman!”
“The old man takes the silver flask, noting its obvious value. Three
rubies underlie a gold inlaid state insignia, the double headed eagle.”
“Drink, drink, my father. You may keep the flask. I will send for a
doctor. You will incur no cost. Now, go, get some rest. I will visit soon.
We will pray for your son, yes? Mother Russia is in your debt.”
Spiridonov washes down two of the antibiotic tablets he always carries
when working in the countryside among those with tuberculosis. He
traces the sign of the cross over the old man.
“You have no daughter to cook for you?”
“My Katerina. She visits twice a month from state university. She
graduates soon. It has taken all I have for her expenses. She hopes to find
government work, but . . . so many hoping and so few positions. How will
we live till then? I do not know. I have borrowed to give her one day at a
time, one more day . . . I have prayed. When the bulls are gone . . . ”
“Give me her name and college unit number. Your family name is?”
“Petrov.”
The Archbishop extends a pen and notepad. “I will speak to His
Holiness in Moscow. Katerina will work for the Church. I buy your farm
to raise horses with my inheritance—my father did well in arms sales, I
cannot deny it. You will share the profits, of course, and I will need your
advice and instruction at times. Then you can join your Katerina in a nice
apartment near the hospital and drive down for fresh air and exercise on
the doctor’s schedule. You will advise on the health, care and purchasing
of the horses. Consider it a gift from your nation in honor of your beloved
son who died for us all. Our God is a God of justice. This is done in His
name to honor your son. Do you agree to this arrangement, Comrade
Petrov?”
“I have no objections. It is very generous. I need a doctor it is true,
but…” he does not say, “cannot afford one.”
“Good. It is done. We will speak of it no further. The doctor who
comes will be paid from an advance of your wages as stablemaster. My
card.”
“Archbishop of St. Petersburg!” The old man kneels to kiss the
bishop’s ring.
“I must be here for two months, father Petrov. As it happens I am
granted an unusually generous expense account for this assignment,
funded by three nations. I have both the authority and the inclination to
use it. No one will ask. The matter is too delicate. Yet, I have no place to
stay. I am commanded by our Holy Father, by our Chairman, and by my
own conscience to stay near this place where our enemy has been
working. Will you rent me a room? It is a matter of no small importance.”
“Near this place? Oh . . . I see, the foul dog from hell, you mean? He
frightens my goats. I tell them to kick him when he is not looking. The
bulls would do worse if our God would let them. Do not turn your back on
them if you come.”
The old man looks out over the sloping snow-spackled landscape as if
listening. He breathes a deep breath, as if feeling the beginnings of relief
from the liquor and antibiotics, but then realizes the burden that is lifting
is largely spiritual.
“Aaah, so . . . you have done something here, Archbishop. It is gone.”
“You know these things?”
“I know. I can see spirits. A man from heaven came through here last
spring. He was always smiling. He gave me a charism, discernment of
spirits. He said to hold on a little while and it would be gone. He said . . .
he said God had noted Dmitri’s sacrifice, and that he would send someone
to help my Katerina. I never doubted him, or God. Do you know who he
was? A man right out of the scriptures!”
“The prophet, Elijah?” So there are four who know.
“Yes, yes, Elijah! But he used another name. He called himself Moshe
Weizmann. He spoke like a Jewish priest, but wore an Israeli military
uniform. Wherever he went, families were healed and the earth itself was
purified of this putrid demonic presence.”
The old man waves his hand over the fields. “There was a friend in the
old sense of the word ‘friend.’ A real ‘mensch’ with a heart of gold. He
slapped my back and my tuberculosis left for three weeks. It is only now
coming back. Do you know what I mean, a ‘friend in the old sense’
Archbishop?”
“Alas, even I am too young, father Petrov. The darkness descended
before I was born. But I know that you know. In that sense you are my
teacher.”
“And in little else, Archbishop, little else. The room is simple, but
adequate. My son’s room—as he left it.”
“It will be fine. I will bring a late supper. My priests should soon
arrive. If they are delayed, it will have to be breakfast.
“See to your animals, father Petrov; they will be missing you by now.
Buy a case of strong red wine for us please, no . . . two cases, and coffee,
cheese, anything you need—get the good stuff. You must eat well until
the doctor comes, keep your strength. It is essential.
“Here,” Spiridonov doles out a thick stack of currency, “here is
enough for two months provisions. Ask the woman of the house nearest to
run to the market, and share a tenth with them for their trouble.”
A generous amount! Two months? I could live two years on this.
“If you can find some ground nearby for our horses to run, arrange a
purchase. You know what we need. Offer a fair price. If the family is in
need, offer them more. It will be our secret. Make them a deposit, and I
will draft a check immediately.”
The archbishop counts out another thick wad of bills, pressing it into
Petrov’s hand. Petrov clips it and secures it deep inside his heavy coat,
looking up at the Archbishop for further instructions.
“And put on some extra coal . . . please father Petrov . . . a little extra
warmth. I am no farmer.”
The old man chuckles. He will throw some smoked salmon, sausage,
potatoes, peppers and cabbage in the basket as well, and plenty of eggs,
caviar, vodka. An archbishop of God will not starve in my house.
He kneels again, pressing his lips to the ring, then takes his leave.
Halfway up the slope the flask is raised high into the air:
“To our beloved Chairman!” floats back down the hillside.
Taking a deep drink of Vodka Petrov is eased in body and spirit. My
Katerina will be so pleased. A doctor . . . hope unlooked for. God is great!
Now Katerina will give her beautiful smile again. When a prophet
speaks….Words from God’s mouth never return to him without
accomplishing their purpose.
I owe God a prayer of thanks.
Petrov looks around to find a concealed spot not yet soggy from the
melting snow. He steps off the path and kneels, arching his neck up to
speak to the sky.
“Thank you Almighty God. You have done so much. I know you like
to see it too, Father, my Katerina’s smile. You are a good Father, our Lord
and God . . . a good Father to us. Thank you for allowing my son Dmitri
to intercede on our behalf, on behalf of Katerina and I.”
The old man slowly and respectfully rises. He ambles off breaking into
a dance as he climbs happily up the rise, holding forth with an old Russian
folk song, then pauses for another medicinal draft of vodka.
“God is great!”
***
VP Jackson: “Now just a minute, Mr. Chairman. Don’t you feel we are
far past the point of transparent deceptions?”
“Agreed, Reverend Mr. Vice President.”
“Then will you turn those masses of tanks around and disperse the
additional massive buildup south of the Crimea?”
“I have en route 2,000 tanks only, to be peacefully dispersed to our
Arab allies: sub-optimized T-90s. For this I will make a cool 215 million
U.S. dollar personal bonus—on the side, you know. That is all. My cousin
is buying a Holiday Inn in San Diego. The most agreeable weather in the
world. I will visit your church, no? There is no buildup in the South.”
“Mr. Chairman!!!”
“Do you have a priest there, a bishop?”
“Are you well, Mr. Chairman?”
“No, my liver. I retire soon.”
“Retire? That’s outrageous! The planet stands on the brink of
disaster!”
Turning to Ken the Vice President pleads for help.
“General Wiles, you know the man; see if you can make sense of the
Chairman’s thoughts.
“Mr. Chairman, will you speak to the Chairman of the U.S. Joint
Chiefs?”
“Ken Wiles? Of course, he is my friend, an honor!” the Chairman
booms within hearing of staff members and others mysteriously passing
outside. Nekrutenko whispers the next softly.
“But I would like one of your audio sermons on tape, please Reverend
. . . and Billy Graham. Can you do this? Money is not a problem. Your
embassy chief could bring them over, or perhaps the beautiful blonde spy
who works in the basement? She is still single, no? My nephew needs a
good wife; he is getting old. The next Air Force supply flight to Moscow?
Is this too soon? I will leave at embassy in your name a glorious fur coat
and stole for Mrs. Jackson? Business is good. Your new law, passed last
winter, allows occasional gifts between governments at top levels if
officially documented. Some common sense for a change. It will naturally
increase friendship and cooperation between nations.”
“If the processed is not abused, I agree. There is a lifetime limit:
$30,000 value accepted from a given nation. I will see to it, Mr.
Chairman. But can you please tell General Wiles how we can work this
crisis out without . . . invoking . . .WWIII?”
“It can be done, Mr. Vice President. Relax and be happy. God is good!
You have served Him well many years, Reverend. You must be in great
peace.”
“Thank you, Chairman Nekrutenko. Yes, you are right; to serve God is
a great blessing. So you do think we can work this out?”
“For our children’s future, we will work it out. The sermons, please,
Reverend. I have your word?”
“It is a small thing, Mr. Chairman. I promise you, a complete set. Billy
Graham crusade videos on the next flight out. I have Al Sharpton too.”
“The set! Reverend Al! May God be praised! Have Mrs. Jackson see
Maurice across the street at the Hay Adams for measurements. He is a
friend of a friend.
“She will be pleased with the coat. You are always welcome here,
Reverend Mr. Vice President. I have your football games on tape. Your
grandson plays well, I understand. A ship off the old dock.”
“That he is Mr. Chairman. If you do this Mr. Chairman, if you restore
peace, I will be on the next flight to Moscow to deliver those sermons in
person! We’ll play touch football and dance on the lawn! If you don’t let
me win, I’ll deliver a live sermon!”
“That’s funny, but I don’t doubt you will win. It is good to dance.
Enough pleasantries, Joshua. I will speak now to your hero, Ken Wiles.
He is an honest man. We know this. Your President is not well I am just
told. Don’t ask me how; we know this too. Our prayers are with him.
Please tell Anna . . . our prayers are with him.”
“She is in country. She will be told, Mr. Chairman. Dahs veedahnyeh.”
“Dahs veedahnyeh. . . .”
“Ken, the Chairman.”
“Ken? Anton. God be praised!”
“May God be praised, Mr. Chairman!”
“Ken, my Misca sends her best, and her condolences. We have been
crying in Moscow.…”
Ken pauses to collect his feelings.
“Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Katherine and I much enjoyed our visit
for the technological arms conference. You were a good host in 2015 as
the military intelligence chief. We were looking forward . . . to coming
back . . . for the riverboat tour.
“I am still a good host, Ken. You will come. It is a wonderful tour.
Katherine will be there in spirit. You will come. . .
A moment of silence follows while both collect their separate thoughts
for different reasons.
“I have him, Ken. I have him.”
“You have who, Mr. Chairman?”
“The dog that ordered the bombs in the East Coast of U.S. The man
who murdered so many of your citizens . . . and . . . ,” the Chairman
pauses to collect his feelings, “my Misca’s friend . . . Katherine.
“This is our secret for now. Your analysts are wrong. He is not a
Muslim. He is a German anarchist. He believes in nothing, a servant of
the devil. This dog purchased from Russian Mafia information about the
tank movements so that they could be made to coincide with the inane
Iranian missile launcher bluff—it is my deputy’s brainchild, for which he
will answer. The anarchists saw a chance to bring down the world in this
ludicrous scare tactic; they took it. One should not play with life. This dog
is going nowhere until you come to claim him, Ken—I have him.
“We are crying in Moscow, Ken . . . for Katherine and the others. My
Misca left a card . . . flowers . . . at the embassy. She is still glorious, my
Misca. More beautiful even than your blonde spy in the embassy
basement. She has weak ankles.”
“True, Mr. Chairman, but she sings gloriously after a few beers . . .
and tells risqué jokes. A tall bleach blonde Amy Winehouse; a woman
with character. Rachel served as aide to the National Security Advisor for
three years. The two of them used to run the executive bars in DC. Secret
Service never had so much fun trying to keep up with them.”
“Drinks and sings? Ankles are not everything in a woman, Ken.”
They laugh. Ken knows the Chairman is faithful to his beloved Misca.
Nor is he a male chauvinist; he just loves people, and life. After the frozen
Blitzkrieg, the gulags, the famines, he feels justified in helping his people
celebrate moments of goodness.
“Your analysts are wrong about something else, Ken. There is no
Russian armored ground assault in progress. It seems my deputy
disseminated a false confirmation to Israeli agents. I did not approve this.
The Iranians and Syrians were foolish to erect launchers while our tanks
were in transit; that was not to be per our trade agreement.
“In any event, there is no ground assault. Satellite and aerial
reconnaissance data is corrupted. I can prove it. You must trust me, for
our children’s sake. Put it to the test.
“Please pray about this, Ken, but trust me now. There is no more time.
The Israelis wait for no one when the balloon is up. We cannot give the
warmongers in Russia an excuse to wield the power they crave. If they get
that chance, strategic nuclear war will propagate itself until . . . until life
itself must depart its earthly home. It will be a dead planet, Ken . . . a dead
planet.
“This is what must be done to avert tragedy. First, and immediately,
stop the Israeli planes overhead before they strike. Do this now. Then,
come back to the phone. Then you will listen. I can trust you. Will you
trust me?”
General Wiles leaves the phone open, speaking over it to his VP.
“Vice President Jackson! I need your help. Alert the Israelis to stand
down all air strikes as of this moment. Immediately. No ifs, ands, or buts,
just return to base. The rest can be worked out. Time is critical. Tell them
they have my word on it, and the Chairman’s.”
“Stand down all Israeli air strikes, immediately?”
“You got it, Mr. Vice President! Please hurry!”
“OK, Ken. OK.” Despite his age Jackson does a record 100 to the
Israeli OpCenter. Then comes the waiting.
Finally the Israeli Air Commander’s response comes back, “Mission
safely aborted. But it was close. Our pilots got a few waves from Russian
MIG pilots on the way out. Fortunately, they were smiling.”
Wild cheering greets his voice in the OpCenter. General Wiles hears it.
He can relax now—a little. Ken gives his ear back to the Chairman.
“I did my part, Mr. Chairman. The Israeli planes are returning home.”
“Just a moment, Ken…Ok, it’s confirmed. Now, listen to me Ken. It
can be tested. Our tanks have no live rounds . . . training warheads only—
colored smoke and concrete. Also my Archbishop, Spiridonov, says you
will need a Bishop of the Church to clear supernatural deception. He is a
good man, Spiridonov, but alas, I fear he drinks too much.”
“Spiridonov drinks too much! Mr. Chairman! He is a bishop of God’s
church.”
“OK, Ken, I confess. The Archbishop only takes a little red wine with
his meal. But he can be induced to laugh and sing, with some
encouragement. It is I, Ken, who drink too much, as you full well know.
My doctor told you as much at the banquet. I remember. How do you say,
he ‘chilled the beans.’ It cannot be taken back.”
The Chairman chuckles. “I seem to remember you having a few drinks
yourself, while you were here, Ken.”
It’s Ken’s turn to chuckle. “Well, now that you mention it, perhaps I
did.”
“We had fun, you and I, Ken. We miss you here, Misca and I. We are
crying for Katherine . . .
“You must now listen Ken Wiles, if our children are going to live.”
“I will listen, Mr. Chairman.”
“Anton, Ken, we are friends. It is Anton.”
“I will listen, Anton.”
And so he does. He gets the full story. Boriskiev, the launcher bluff,
demonically facilitated deception, false data transmissions. As the
Chairman closes, Ken overhears Nekrutenko instruct his office Chief of
Staff.
“Bring that coward, Boriskiev, to my office. Pick him up in an FSB
field car . . . scare him a little. Say yours is in shop. His mood will change.
Boriskiev is no hero.
“He wants to make Israel sweat? Israel? The man is a fool. Israel does
not sweat . . . not mentally. Israel acts, with resolve and determination.
That is how she sweats, on the battlefield. Hard work, blood and courage.
Israel does not respond to intimidation with conciliation but by removing
the threat. The man is a fool. Look at the mess Boriskiev has made, taking
Iranian money to construct this bluff! Pure insanity.
“We will pull the tanks out completely and deliver them again in six
months—increments of thirty. I promote you to colonel, Anatoly,
effective immediately. You will have Boriskiev’s seat in Politburo in
three years. He is retiring soon. Don’t fail to mention it to him. I give you
and your delightful family two weeks on the beach when Boriskiev is
sitting here in front of me.”
Nekrutenko places a pistol on his desktop for emphasis. “This is clear,
Comrade Colonel?”
“Clear! Comrade Chairman!”
“Go now. You will do nothing more important.”
The Chairman smiles. Now he can relax—a little. He pours vodka, and
then instructs his young secretary.
“Type it up; withdrawal of tanks is to be Boriskiev’s idea. Perhaps
then he will keep his job, for now.”
Next Nekrutenko waves his security chief into the office.
“Sergei, here are your instructions. Boriskiev may sit in my office until
the tank recall becomes his idea. Arrest his bodyguards, then return here
and post guard on this door. You will see that this is done for your
Chairman?”
“It is being done, my Chairman. How else may I serve our country?”
The Chairman pulls back the slide on the pistol, loudly inserting a
bullet in the firing chamber. He gently places the gun in front of him.
“Full security alert. House arrest for Boriskiev’s loyal supporters in the
Council and Duma—only temporary—Asian flu, the newspapers will say.
Do the same with his men in the Army, FSB, and SVR. Understood, my
beloved nephew?”
“Understood, Comrade Chairman!”
“Your children like to play on the beach, Sergei. It is no secret; they
tell their Uncle Anton. Let them play. I give you three weeks in my
personal dacha, first son of my little brother. See to these things now, then
we will talk about your future. How does Deputy Director, SVR sound?”
“It sounds like more money, my favorite uncle?” Sergei says smiling.
“It is, and you deserve it. But for the moment, time is short. Take my
car. I want a full security alert. Lock everything down. Have our crack
airborne units parade out front this week. Visitors may speak with their
commander about our schedule. It is so tight this time of year. Give the
airborne units special rations for their families and triple their combat pay
until this is over. Sergei . . . you will do this for your Uncle Anton?”
“Right away, Comrade Chairman!” Sergei pivots and is gone.
“Ken . . .”
“Yes, Mr. Chairman.”
“You are no fool. Nor am I. Israel may later decide to strike these
tanks once in place in Iran and Syria, but that is not my concern. You sell
arms; we sell arms. Business is business. Their differences do not have to
be ours. Israeli preemption is redundant in any case. The new Syrian and
Iranian acquisitions will be no match for the fifth generation Israeli smart
tank. They will never be able to field more than 200 in any single
synchronized effort. This poses no substantial threat to Israel whose
commanders can orchestrate 500 tanks now as if they were fingers on the
same hand, integrating satellite data in real time with automated target
acquisition software and tactical battlefield decision support systems.
Save your denials, we know this.”
“Understood, Mr. Chairman.”
“Goodbye General Ken Wiles. You have work. God is good!”
“God is good. It is right to give him thanks and praise.”
“Ken, let your people know that Mother Russia is crying for its friends
in the U.S.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chairman. They will know. Dahs veedahnyeh.”
“Goodbye, my friend.”
***
In the meantime, VP Jackson has procured permission from the pope
to install a secure line to the Vatican. Major Roscoco comes in to confirm
that an Israeli phone unit has been successfully adapted for this purpose.
Father Bernie, now confirmed to be Bishop, has been designated by
the pope to investigate the possibility of a supernatural element being
connected to the fraudulent intelligence data concerning the massive
Russian armored force buildup. A smaller, related task, will be to keep the
supernatural interference out of a mission to inspect the leading Russian
tanks in an effort to confirm that the data is in fact fraudulent. The West
must know if they are carrying live ammunition and are outfitted for
combat, or merely carrying practice rounds.
These are jobs he has been assigned by his Church. They are all
unofficial as far as the U.S. Air Force is concerned, for whom he is
merely performing the routine duties of organizational Chaplain, and
Bishop of the military diocese pending the appointment of a new
archbishop to replace the man who was killed in the nuclear explosions.
Bishop Shasta has been inside his tent praying for the last two hours
awaiting the signal to go. Outside in the bright Syrian midday sun an
expert in airborne rescue is instructing a slow student.
“Can you rappel?” Clayton demands.
“I don’t know; is it hard?” Joe answers.
“Not really, it just takes a package check,” Clayton says, indicating his
lower groin as football players and rappers do, “a little courage.”
Joe performs the check, squatting and groping around as if he can’t
find anything of relevance. After a few grunts and disappointed
expressions, he finally gives a smile of discovery.
“Ah, yes. There we are. We’re O . . . K!” Joe proudly reports.
“Package confirmed. Besides, as you know, I have as little courage as
anybody. What the heck, let’s give it a try.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Clayton expertly prepares and then manipulates the rappelling rope.
“OK, wrap the rope around your thigh and ankle like this. Then wrap
your left arm above. Release the tension to lower yourself, tighten to stop.
Like so.”
Clayton demonstrates, lowering himself smoothly down from a short
length of rope anchored to the top of the doorframe of the helicopter.
“Nothing to it.”
“It can’t be that easy.”
“Takes a little practice, that’s all. Try it a few times, carefully. Short
bursts until you really feel comfortable.”
Joe starts slow, then goes a little further with each drop. “Yeah. I can
do this. It’s fun.”
“It’s fun . . . until the shooting starts.”
“Did I need to know that?”
“Probably not. The latest intel says the Russians aren’t supposed to be
at war.”
Clayton smiles. “That’s what we have to confirm, to avert an
unnecessary shooting war. You’re the guy who knows the difference
between a high-explosive cannon shell and a target-marking smoke
charge for marksmanship practice. These shells, however, are
differentiated only by Russian language markings. You can do this,
right?”
“I don’t speak Russian, but EOD training covers basic enemy
ordinance identification well enough. Yosef’s man gave me a Russian-to-
Hebrew pamphlet on the shell casing designs, ammunition nomenclature
and markings. He scribbled in the English. That’s all the reference data I
should need for this simple job.
Mentally facing the task ahead, adrenalin starts building. Joe gets the
pregame jitters.
“Let’s go before the shooting does start.”
“Good idea. Bishop Bernie’s ostensibly coming along as Chaplain, but
he’s there to sort out the supernatural buggers.”
“There’s another good idea. Load the colonel in here. Let’s hit the
beaches while the mood lasts. I’m startin’ to get butterflies already.”
“If you even have a mood to tolerate combat, consider yourself
blessed. The beaches should be quiet, though. No combat is anticipated.
Good luck convincing the butterflies—they always assume the worst.
“Bishop Bernie? Time to go!”
“Right again,” the bishop enthuses while sprinting out like Jack
LaLanne for early morning calisthenics on the deck of a cruise ship. “God
and country, gentlemen.”
“God and country!”
Bishop Shasta has been performing the Holy Rite of Exorcism or
something akin to it regarding their mission to validate Russian intentions.
He has cleared the event of demonic interference as is possible to do in
advance. Having discovered a demon interfering, the bishop employed the
Rite of Exorcism to quickly banish it, but remains troubled by something.
Its last words before departing for the outer darkness were, “They will do
it anyway.”
He apparently did not ask the right question before electing to cast out
the monster. Now he is stuck with a cryptic warning and no time to
interpret it. They load up and are immediately in the air.
It takes their flight commander a few moments to locate the Red
convoy using GPS coordinates provided by satellite. “There you go guys,
a nice endless line of Russian battle tanks. What fun! Life is good! Way
rocky down there, though. Not enough space between tanks to land, at
least not without an official invitation from the Russians. I have been
called brave, but I’m not stupid. Hovering for a rappel drop is the best I
can do.”
Joe steps up to the task a little too eagerly, nervously wishing it to be
over, covering fear with bravado. “Been there and done that, partners.
Trained by the very best. Just say when,” he yells out in an exaggerated
cowboy drawl, giving an energetic thumbs up.
The chopper pilot positions his craft at the front of the Russian line
just off to the side by 200 yards so as not to mentally crowd them or
pepper them with sand and rocks. Best keep this friendly.
Joe decides to try to show off a bit. He’ll just add a little speed and
style. Despite looking good and having fun on the way down, he sprains
an ankle on the drop. Not too bad. At least he can still walk. Limping over
to the lead Russian tank, a T-90 in tiger stripes, Joe removes a small white
flag from his backpack and waves it vigorously at the lead tank crew.
This T-90 is a monster upgrade from the infamous T-72. It wields an
intimidating presence on the battlefield, awesome firepower, but
technologically inferior to the fifth generation Israeli model. Nekrutenko
ordered a sub-optimized electronics package for these tanks in the Syrian
trade deal, not wishing to face his own best tanks in the event Jihad
overruns Syria, captures the tanks, and suddenly turns its attention north.
The convoy commander immediately exits the second tank from the
lead, resplendent in a dress uniform covered with huge multicolored
ribbons and medals. He seems somewhat bemused. Finishing a martini he
had with lunch, he casts the plastic glass aside.
“I accept your surrender; but who are you fighting?”
“Not at war?” Joe offers in very broken Russian upon the Israeli
translator’s prompting over the radio headset.
“No war. This is equipment delivery mission. Arms sale to Syria,”
comes back in Russian.
The translator says, “No war,” into Joe’s headset.
Joe decides to hand the radio headset to the commander so the
translator can form the question in proper Russian. It won’t be necessary.
The tank commander speaks perfect English, in addition to Farsi, Polish,
and Arabic.
The Russian tank group commander is a genius, two PhDs. He can do
anything he chooses with his life because of inherited wealth. Yet he has
chosen to drive tanks. This is not just because he is a patriot; he likes it.
Besides, he should make general on the next review and move up to
strategic plans section. Then he can add the chess element of strategy to
the fun of driving the heavy equipment. Better than counting money and
managing his family’s uranium mines.
Colonel Igor Stanislov enjoys his tanker job, and, yes, he pulled a few
strings to get it, but he is fully qualified, actually the best the Russians
have in terms of brains and raw talent, though not yet their most
experienced. A Rommel or a Patton would be hard pressed against this
man. He is only with this convoy at his own request. His romantic interest
is a Jordanian princess. He will drive a rented limo down from Damascus.
Then they will cruise the Mediterranean. He might even pop the question.
“Keep the headset. My English is OK.”
“I see. Would you mind if I inspect your armaments to confirm lack of
hostile intent. It could save your column being blown off the mountain by
mistake. It seems there has been some small misunderstanding about your
intentions among the Western nations.”
“Blown off the mountain! By all means, inspect, quickly, inspect!” Not
a good time to die, Igor reflects. No engagement, no honeymoon!
Not much chance of hostilities. Nekrutenko himself sent a note saying
not to worry, there should not be war. A veteran of several real wars this
is to Igor merely a pleasant diversion. After instructing his gunner to
comply with the inspector’s requests, Igor taps out a Marlboro red, a gift
from friends at the U.S. Consulate, and lights up.
Ammo for the tank’s main gun is quickly verified: training munitions
only, concrete with smoke charge inserted in the nose. So it is for the next
ten tanks in line. These tanks are not going to war. The machine guns up
top are live, but they would have to be to defend against Jihadist militias
now active in the region. Joe grabs his radio and calls it in. “Peaceful
mission. Arms sale only. No hostile intent.”
As the flight commander is relaying Joe’s findings to HQ CENTAF a
terrorist band of light trucks with machine guns mounted appears north of
them speeding over a ridge—coming their way. Unbeknownst to the
Russians, ISIL has a training camp nearby. Anonymous without uniforms,
ISIL is not afraid of permanently offending the Russians. This region of
Syria is not yet part of ISIL territory. Their vehicles are from captured
Syrian military. With so many militant groups in Syria, no one will have a
clue who they are. They won’t shoot at the Russians in any case.
Machine guns are not all the ISIL troops are carrying. Before the
Russian tank commander can say “Who the ###***!!! is that?” two
shoulder-launched stinger missiles disable the Israeli helicopter hovering
overhead. The Israelis have made an unauthorized incursion across the
Syrian border. However, these terrorists are not Syrians protecting
national sovereignty.
The Russian tank group commander doesn’t yet know that. He is on
the radio asking instructions from Moscow. He instructs his men to return
fire only if fired upon. In such a case, he instructs, don’t play around,
obliterate them. His tankers immediately deploy men on the turrets with
shoulder-fired antitank missiles. These are capable of making very short
work of the ISIL pickup trucks.
The terrorist commander uses a bullhorn to shout “Death to Israeli
invaders” in Arabic, then, in English, “Do not fire, our Russian friends.
President Assad sends greetings.”
You lying ###***!!!, the Russian commander thinks. One word from
Moscow and I will wipe that ###***!!! smile right off your face. He
keeps the radio pressed tightly to his ear and waves confirmation to the
terrorist leader, giving him his best fake smile, then a thumbs up.
Minus rudder control, the stricken Israeli chopper is forced to not-toogently limp to a crash landing several miles away. The pilot rides it down
like a rodeo bronc, never really driving it after the missile strike. He
makes a superb effort, but they hit hard.
Following impact with the ground, Clayton first confirms that he and
the crew are alive.
Everyone evacuates or is carried free of the smoldering wreckage—no
fire yet.
Bishop Bernie has a grievous injury to one leg, bleeding so bad it
requires an immediate tourniquet. This slows the blood loss, but it won’t
save the leg. Knee completely crushed, calf nearly severed. The Bishop
was mercifully knocked out. Otherwise the shock of such pain and trauma
might have killed him. Clayton asks the Israeli medic to double up the
morphine so Bishop Bernie doesn’t have to wake up before surgeons have
a chance to mitigate the damage.
Whoosh! Fire flashes over the crash site. There goes the fuel tank. The
chopper pilot quickly radios for fire team support, medical staff and a
backup chopper, all of which is standing by on the flightline warmed up
and ready to go.
“Don’t attack the Russians, however,” he is careful to clarify. “They
are on a peaceful mission, international arms sale equipment delivery. We
have been fired upon by an unidentified Jihadist militia, probably ISIL.”
He hands his radio to a sergeant, allowing the medic to bandage his
broken arm.
As the Russian tank commander awaits orders over his radio he keeps
his Kalashnikov trained upon the terrorists but does not fire. Twenty of
his men are similarly staring down the terrorists over the sights of
antitank weapons. Fifteen tanks in range have light machine guns
positioned, cocked and loaded. Another thirty individuals assigned to the
group’s security force are close enough to sight in assault rifles and
military shotguns. If the order comes from Moscow there will be one less
terrorist unit in Syria. However, the Chairman is in conference and can’t
be reached. Standing orders to return fire only if directly attacked are
confirmed.
The twelve man terrorist squad makes haste to quickly fade over the
rise through the scrubby brown desert terrain, finally disappearing from
view. There will be no tracking them once they climb further into the
morass of mountain trails ahead.
They are gone, and Joe goes with them, now a hostage. A jeep full of
ISIL forces in Syrian uniforms drove over during the chaos following the
downing of the helicopter and “officially” arrested him.
“Those guys are not Syrian,” Stanislov warns his troops on the radio,
still smiling and waving at the terrorists. “Standby for orders to fire.”
The Russian tank group’s intelligence officer has arranged radio
contact with the fake Syrian commander and is happily chatting him up in
Arabic, trying to keep them in range in case clearance to fire comes in
from Moscow. He can’t offer vodka to a strict Muslim, but they do have
food and water, binoculars, and first aid packs that would be of use.
The Russian Chairman is finally reached. Permission to engage the
terrorists comes back to the Russian tank commander, but by then the
ISIL forces are well out of range. It would be pointless to endanger the
American hostage with self-defense no longer an issue.
“Give me that radio, Colonel Stanislov instructs his intelligence
officer. “You lucky ISIL ###**!!! I was just about to send you to paradise
riding an antitank missile. We have been cleared to engage. Don’t come
back.”
Colonel Igor Stanislov is no fan of insurgents, having lost a brother
and a nephew in Afghanistan and Chechnya. He would have stopped
them.
The escaping terrorist radioman listens as, a flood of profanity pours
into his ear. He is shocked and angered by Igor’s free-flowing invective,
but keeps the worst of the insults to himself. If he tells his commander he
will return and attack and they will all be killed. Pointless.
“Why are you taking my American friend? the Russian asks,” the ISIL
radioman says to his group commander’s inquiring look. “By the way, the
Russians have received permission to fire on us. They know we are ISIL.”
“Watch them closely. See if they will pursue us,” he is instructed.
He turns to survey the Russian column with field glasses just in time to
see Colonel Stanislov deliver a chop to his right elbow popping his fist up
in insult, followed by a one-finger salute. The terrorist interpreter, a strict
and proper Muslim, is shocked. Who raised this child, anyway?
“Nothing,” he informs his leader.
***
The north wind cuts across the open spaces of Wyoming to rustle the
canvas as Garfield enters the tent. The gusts aren’t always this easy. None
of the tents have become airborne, yet. The kids are just waking up from a
nap. This is not going to be easy, but I must try.
“Hi kids! Wanna play something?”
“Hurray!”
“What do you want to play, Garfield?”
Julia brightens, and then fades as she remembers. “Goofy doesn’t
work—we don’t have electricity.”
“That’s OK. How about a game of hide and seek? Afterwards maybe
Mike will let us ride Nina around the camp. But we’ll have to stay in the
safe area between the ropes so we won’t get lost.”
“Yeah, That’ll be fun!” Jonathan agrees. He begins planning the
perfect spot to hide.
“OK, but before we start I need your help to do something really,
really important. This is to help your Dad. You are the only ones who can
do this.”
“Is it that important?” Jonathan challenges. This captain stuff gets
going pretty fast!
“Nothing is more important than this. Joe, your Dad, is in danger. The
terrorists may hurt him. God told me through St. Mary. Because you love
your Dad so much, your prayers can protect him the best.”
Julia’s eyes water and she makes little fists no less determined and
heroic than General Yosef’s. Her tender face looks up at Garfield with so
much pain in it that his own tears escape before he can impose control.
“Get over here, right now!” Jonathan instructs his sister. “I know what
to do. Father Bernie showed me. Hurry . . . before Dad gets hurt! Take my
hand, Julia. Kneel down to be respectful.”
Julia does as she is told. She loves her dad, and is not about to mess
this up. Garfield kneels between them taking a small hand right and left.
“Everyone ready? The Lord’s Prayer,” Jon suggests. “It can fix
anything. Father Bernie guaranteed it. God is a good friend of mine too,
you know,” Jon reveals. “If we ask for help, he won’t let anything happen
to Dad. I know it.”
“I know it too; God is a good Father to all of us,” Julia asserts.
Jon’s eyes fill with tears as he takes Garfield’s hand to complete the
circle. “Dad says . . . never give up.”
With his heart now in his throat Jonathan is forced to defer. “You lead
us Garfield.”
“Ok, let’s begin by telling God what we are asking.”
“God, please save Dad from the terrorists, please. You say it too
Julia.”
“Oh please . . . God, Dad is in trouble!”
Garfield pushes forward while he can, his voice shaking despite
himself.
“Our Father in heaven…”
“Say ‘amen,’ Julia—that makes it official. Then Dad will be OK.”
“Amen!”
The three begin to rise, then stand transfixed by the first wave of a
blessing of confirmation. An angel has reached down to touch them,
letting them know their prayer was heard. It’s a blessed moment. Julia
looks up with so much personal gratitude to God that one would think he
was standing immediately in front of her. As divine compassion again
washes over them all fold their hands, looking up in an angelic study.
Margaret pokes her head into the tent just then, but quickly pulls up.
The kids look so beatified—even Garfield. She gestures to Elizabeth to
bring the camera.
A quick snap is all they have time for as Ethyl has hurried up to inform
them she has become troubled about their destination. She has seen a
vision: frightening violence ahead. “I’ll see that everyone is warned at
dinner,” Margaret assures her.
“You should teach us all to fistfight Margaret, then we’ll be prepared,”
the old lady muses. “You used to be so good in the ring.”
“You get yourself ready tomorrow after lunch, Ethyl, and I’ll teach
you. We’re not afraid of no stinking terrorists, are we Jon?”
“No, sir!”
“I have a feeling Mike might have a trick or two to teach us as well,”
Margaret relays. “I noticed him practicing some martial art or another out
behind the tents this morning. He looks pretty good.”
“I may be seventy, but I want to learn it all,” Ethyl insists. She does a
Hulk flex that doesn’t change much but her facial expression. “Ouch! I
think I pulled something.”
Her husband, Ralph slips up beside her. “With that little gift I gave
you in your bag, Ethyl, I don’t think you will need a black belt.” He
winks.
“Just the same. You teach us Maggie.”
“No problem. Let’s give the kids an hour to play while we repack, then
we should get back on the road.”
Before the day is out reports from travelers heading east from Montana
confirm that terrorist attacks have caused havoc near the refugee camp
along the access roads leading west: automatic weapons and grenade
attacks. Not the blood bath it might have been, but bad enough. Looks like
the final leg west isn’t going to be a free ride.
The men are not afraid of a fight, but the terrorists will look like
everyone else . . . until it is too late—and they have the kids to consider. It
is an easy choice to divert south.
Mike suggests his ex-wife’s place in Paris, California: a forty-acre
urban ranch, a few horses, five-bedroom home and a bunkhouse. Both the
horse barn and bunkhouse have heat. Civilization is just around the
corner. They should be able to make do.
Mike is divorced from Claire under state law to simplify finances, but
they remain married under the Church, living separate by agreement.
Claire is an actress. She has done reasonably well. Seven years older than
Mike, she is now semi-retired at the ranch, making occasional theatre
appearances in Los Angeles, including being a regular in shows at
Disneyland. She also appears with a Hollywood equestrian unit in the
Rose Parade. Claire and Mike used to perform a romantic horse ballet
routine at Disneyland that people thronged to see. The Magic Kingdom is
only ten minutes west of Claire’s place and gate passes are a certainty.
“Hurray!” comes from Jonathan, Julia, and Garfield when they are told
of the change in plans.
***
I’m losing strength on this putrid grain/veggie ball and murky water.
I’ll have to make a move while I have the strength to do it.
His hands are securely tied, so Joe steels himself for a two-handed
swipe at the chin of his guard. Two weeks of enteric distress have left him
weak. This stands practically no chance of success.
Hearing a faint but familiar drone overhead, he forces himself to think
through the possibilities, then elects to wait, quickly sitting down and
stretching out as if to sleep. Joe doesn’t want his captors to know he
places any importance on the plane. The truth is far different, however.
The sound of a transport class ship in rapid descent in a hostile outlying
area with no runway for supply deliveries can mean only one thing:
gunship! He tenses, ready to rise. The sound grows louder…very close…
very low...
The possibility of an impending crash in their vicinity is suggested.
Joe can’t avoid being a little alarmed, though hopeful at the same time.
His guards step outside the tent to investigate.
Bingo! The deadly fire of a 25 mm Gatling gun rakes through the
terrorist camp. A C-130 gunship deftly swings past. It flips to a near 90degree wing-stand so fast one might think God had pinched the tail and
twisted it over.
This gunship has stumbled upon the ISIL camp only through an error
in navigation. However, its crew isn’t going to miss the opportunity now
that they have found it. A hostage was taken in the vicinity. HQ informs
the antiterrorist agent onboard that satellite data analysis confirms the
location as hostile. It’s a recent satellite find.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrpp! Joe’s guards fall to the ground mortally
wounded. Had he remained standing he would be lying there with them.
Joe is instantly up and out the door. Forgetting his sore ankle, he
charges headlong into the deep desert scrub brush, jogging abruptly right,
up fifteen yards, then back left twice the distance, then left at forty-five
degrees vertical. All this maneuvering is done to break a direct visual line
of sight for anyone trying to visually track him with the intent of firing
down his anticipated path. A few more steps, then straight up the hillside,
back right again, straight up.
He prays to reach the top where he can be seen by the gunship. No
shots in his direction yet. ISIL must be preoccupied with running in
confused circles dodging bullets, praying, or dealing with injuries. Or
perhaps the murky water combined with the excitement has sent them all
to the latrine again, where I would like to be right now. Shoot me, hang
me, spear me with a bayonet, but please God don’t let me die of
dysentery.
The gunship swings around for a more telling pass on the trucks and
armored vehicles with its large bore Vulcan cannon, revealing the pilot’s
personal logo painted in gold and black letters on the side “Knights of
Columbus.” A Catholic fraternal group--well, that’s a good sign, but I’ll
want to be out of frag distance for this one. Joe surges faster up the slope,
slipping and stumbling as he goes. Two trucks and a jeep erupt in flames
below sending the terrorists scrambling again into nearby rocks.
Another flip and a turn and Puff flashes and roars through the valley
once again. A few more secondary explosions and vehicle fires flare up.
Glancing back Joe sees that an armored personnel carrier and a SAM
missile transport have survived.
They’ll make another pass for those. I’m going to be a friendly fire
casualty yet. I have to go higher and increase distance. Climb. Push.
Climb. Lungs already burning? Too early for a side stitch. It’s heck to be
old. I’ll just have to ignore it. One second too slow and the kids will have
to grow up without Dad. Joe exhales forcefully, pushing harder with each
step, mentally willing himself to be twenty years younger just a few
minutes longer.
Those who survive emergencies know it is possible to willfully create
physical strength from pure emotion—so long as intense focus can be
maintained. One let down, however, and the miracle is over. Joe is
running on pure adrenalin, that is, running on empty. His heart and mind
are demanding what his body technically cannot do. If I stop surging, I’ll
just stop. He forms a mental picture of Jon, Julia, and Elizabeth at the top.
He surges faster.
Having his hands tied is not helping matters. Balance is precarious.
Careful, everything is loose here, scattered rocks, rootless dry scrub. I
don’t think my ankle can . . . Ow! His feet slide out on loose soil and he
hits hard, incurring a nasty gash across the side of his face. He holds his
hands to the wound checking the blood flow for a moment, then feels
around the neck to ensure nothing critical has been punctured. He takes
the offending bottle shard along to sever his bonds and stumbles on much
slower now, out of gas and breathing hard.
Well, the surge is over, but I’m almost there.
In the next moment, Joe is seemingly knocked to the ground again by
sheer noise, but it was a low duck followed by a reflex dive for cover. No
injuries this time. He finishes cutting through the rope on his wrists before
rising. Now he can pump his arms for speed and keep decent balance.
Puff’s cannon once again roars through the valley . . . and hell follows
with it. For once Joe hopes the gunship missed its target. He has been too
slow ascending the hill. He needs one more pass, just one more.
But they did not miss. All the vehicles below are burning. Glancing
up, Joe sees the plane turn to go.
As hope fades he senses the presence of St. Padre Pio, and hears the
voice of Jim Barnett faintly in his head, “Never give up.”
Then the terrorists do precisely the wrong thing from the point of view
of their own personal safety. They rush out to shout and fire at the plane
on egress, trying to rewrite the event as at least a spiritual victory.
Puff decides to turn and make an additional pass to suppress the
ground fire, not comfortable leaving enemy combatants intact in a
potential search and rescue overflight area. Cannon and mini-gun
alternatively rake the rocks around the campsite. Puff’s flight commander
commits to remain on station until the ground fire is halted. The crew
chief even puts his M-16 into the fight. In a moment enemy fire goes
silent, and Puff is turning for final inspection.
“Enemy camp out of operation,” the gunner reports. All are agreed.
The co-pilot is the first to scan the hilltop. “There’s a man over there!
On the hill to starboard. Is that a gun emplacement?”
Joe has taken up position next to a fallen tree trunk. From the diagonal
it first strikes the co-pilot as a possible artillery battery.
“Let’s check it out.” The pilot wheels the C-130 in a tight circle. “If it
is, it won’t be there long.” He instructs his gunner to confirm all targets
before firing. Ammo is low, and they were briefed of the possibility of
friendly hostages in the area. They approach from the low end of the tree
trunk in the event the possible howitzer decides to commence firing.
Noting their approach, Joe bursts into the open. He has scraped a large
“U… S…A” into the loose soil, bordering it with stones. Shouting and
kicking up dust in the area behind it is all he can think to do. A feeble
effort, the lighting and angle of approach will have to be just right or
they’ll never see it.
Somewhere in northern Wyoming two young Christians and a gentle
giant are just finishing prayer as the afternoon sun peaks fortuitously out
from behind a cloud in Syria, spotlighting the hilltops with dazzling
brilliance. The stark contrast between the illuminated ground and the
shadowed troughs Joe has constructed now paint an unmistakable
message.
Joe doesn’t know that, however. He is blinded by the sunburst. The
gunship disappears in the glare. There is no way to calculate the plane’s
current visual perspective to the ground. God please don’t let them shoot
me. I have to go home . . . and they will never forgive themselves.
The gunner’s eyes moisten with a blessing. He pauses to think, and
takes another look. “Bring the ship in closer,” the gunner requests over the
headset, “this might be a friendly.”
The crew chief rips out his binoculars, focusing on the movement.
“USA! It says ‘USA’ down there on the hill. That’s one of ours or I’m a
Ferengi!” They had just been discussing the longevity of Star Trek
following a round of movie trivia questions. “A hostage or downed
aircrew…”
“Or a trap,” the co-pilot cogently observes.
“Good point, but they don’t have much left to spring a trap with, do
they?” the pilot counters. “Knight takes queen.” After a further moment of
deliberation . . . “I’m risking it.”
Joe has moved to stand beside the message. Sensing the change in the
plane’s approach pattern might be a good sign he frantically jumps and
waves. Anyone in the vicinity would have thought it an odd way to pray
the “Glory Be.” He trusts God is not one of them.
Never give up. Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy
Spirit . . . Joe does a demonstrative sign of the cross, exaggerating the size
for the plane’s benefit. Puff has now turned to a dead-on frontal approach.
The news is now going to be either very good or very bad.
The crew chief is squinting into his 16-power binoculars.
“Sign of the cross. It’s one of ours!” he shouts into his headset. “We’re
going to need a rescue chopper!”
“It’s being done,” the pilot confirms. He radios the airborne command
post to dispatch a rescue team, well-armed.
***
Only after emergency surgery at an Israeli hospital does Colonel
Shasta put two and two together. “They will do it anyway” referred to the
terrorists taking hostages for their own human purposes despite his having
removed the demonic influence.
Lying in great pain in the intensive care unit of a mobile hospital,
waving off General Yosef’s gestures of concern, Bishop Bernie hears the
hostage recovery in progress call come in on the general’s radio. He
immediately knows it is Joe. He begins to pray the Rosary. Two decades
into the devotion the morphine is mercifully increased and he becomes
oblivious to everything around him for the next hour and a half.
During this time the surgeons finish up a very skilled piece of work.
“He should do well with a prosthesis. No complications in the nerves and
muscles above the knee and in the thigh.”
Finally coming to consciousness again, Bishop Bernie begins again
with the Rosary. Somewhere in the middle of those extended prayers a
middle-aged American power lifter with close-cropped red hair dangles in
midair, then reaches out to greet a very old friend.
Joe has been lying prostrate in the dirt forty-five minutes praying that
any surviving terrorists don’t come looking for him. They haven’t. They
may have concluded the open high ground was not the best place for them
right now, with Puff circling the area.
Seeing no further resistance, Puff now dips its wings and turns to go
home.
Clayton’s enormous right arm swings out to lift Joe onto the rope
ladder. An iron grip tightens to steel. Joe isn’t going anywhere.
“Thank God you came,” Joe exclaims.
“Oh ye of little faith” is the last thing Joe remembers as pair of
surviving terrorists’ AK47’s erupt again from the ground. Bullets rake the
chopper front to stern, stretching towards the door, inching closer;
then…searing pain radiates through Joe’s shoulder and legs as he finds
the top rung. Yosef veers sharply hoping to shield Joe and Clayton from
increasingly accurate ground fire. Puff is called back.
Joe’s head bangs roughly against the chopper door with the turn.
“You’re losing your gentle touch, old boy,” Joe chides Clayton,
refusing to acknowledge his wounds until he has to. His head was hurt,
but for a moment the pain from his back and legs stopped. Now
everything blurs. Realizing these may be his last words he adds, “May
God bless and save us all.”
“Get in there.” Clayton tosses Joe inside with a mighty swing. “You
can complain to General Yosef. He has a gentle touch.”
In the last moment of vulnerability, as he raises his torso up and
reaches to close the chopper door two bullets penetrate his chest. He falls
in agony, gasping for air—a collapsed lung, broken ribs, disruption of
spinal function from the bullet induced hydro-shock. Fortunately, given
his enormous physical condition, the long range of the shots, and lateral
distance of the points of impact from the spine, he is not killed outright.
“Most merciful God, our Father in heaven, Jesus, Mary and Joseph . . .
Most merciful God, our Father in heaven, Jesus, Mary and Joseph . . .
Most merciful God, our Father in heaven . . . ”
The pain is excruciating. He has little breath, but continues to whisper
the prayer. With his last breath he informs the medic that his lung has
collapsed, and his chest cavity is breached. He can’t breathe. It doesn’t
take long to see that he is right. The crew chief rushes over to assist the
medic. They tape a specially designed plastic film bandage onto Clayton’s
chest, made for air-sucking chest wounds. His good lung begins to
function again. I can breathe! But it hurts. Hearing no air passing, they
apply a standard Israeli battle pack bandage to the other wound, then look
at Clayton for feedback.
He gives them a thumbs up, the points to Joe.
The medic expertly examines Joe, quickly cutting away the uniform
around his wounds with medical shears. “Three broken bones, no major
arteries. Very lucky.” He checks Joe’s pupils and gently presses the
damaged area of his head: “Concussion, possible skull fracture. Not so
lucky.”
General Yosef, piloting the chopper, waves two fingers at Clayton,
indicating his second major medal award can be expected, in this case, the
Israeli Cross. In their last meeting the Knesset authorized the Israeli Cross
for foreign assistance to David and Goliath. They are not giving it away,
however. The usual conditions apply, heroism under fire, risk to life and
limb; life-threatening wounds. It’s not political. Joe, Bishop Bernie and
the President will ultimately earn one as well.
This chopper is Yosef’s primary qualification. He can land this one—if
it continues to fly with so many holes in it. After sticking a finger at his
own chest, two more fingers are offered with the general’s brilliant smile
as Clayton painfully struggles to breathe. “Two collapsed lungs over the
years.”
Remembering those awful scars, Clayton doesn’t doubt it. He nods to
the general from respect, but his grimace tells all, he is failing in his battle
to wrestle the pain.
“It won’t be fun for a while, Chief, but you’ll make it home, that is, if I
can keep this rock in the air. My troops know what they are doing. They’ll
take care of you. Morphine!” Yosef instructs the med tech.
“Next thing on my medical checklist, General.”
“Everyone not treating the wounded grab a fire bottle and wait,”
General Yosef commands his crew. His ominous meaning is clear enough.
Too many hits. Fuel will leak. It will blow back onto the searing heat of
the engine manifold. And then . . . and then it is just a matter of time.
Praying silently, Yosef pauses before pushing the throttle to full, then
waits for the inevitable fires that may doom his ship.
Another moment passes. All stand ready. There. Smoke rolls from the
top cowling towards the back. Flames are soon licking at the roof and
windows.
In an instant the crew chief and gunner have climbed out, extending
oversized extinguisher nozzles toward the engine cowlings. They press
forward to the edge of the fire. To extinguish the fire they hit the source at
the base of the flames. The distance to the fuel line breach and the
blowback from the forward airspeed are working against them. They must
inch even closer. This means temporarily entering the perimeter of the
fire. With the intense oxygen provided the fire by the airspeed it will be
like reaching a hand into a blow torch. Both emit kamikaze like screams.
A terrible act of will is required to continue for an additional two seconds
as flames sear the flesh of their arms. Both incur third and fourth degree
burns. They collapse back inside, and are replaced by other crew
members, who expend another round of extinguishers. The fire is
momentarily out, but it is a terrible scene in the cargo bay, filled with the
stench of burned flesh and screaming soldiers.
General Yosef increases airspeed to maximum hoping the increased
vacuum on the fuel lines will minimize leaks.
As they move for home, Puff empties her remaining store of ammo
into the hillside below, then falls in behind and above to see that the
crippled rescue chopper gets safely home.
Despite the anguished cries of his crew, the general has to know if his
chopper will continue to fly. “Report,” he instructs firmly into the headset.
“We are alive back here—I think” the crew chief says between curses.
For the first time he notices the right half of his jumpsuit is soaked with
his own blood, then he sees the seared and open flesh wounds from the
wrist to the shoulder. “We will stay in the air, my General! . . . #!!***!!”
“That’s good to know,” the general says, “the first part. . . . Medic!”
The crews ugly wounds are covered with antiseptic/anesthetic jell
from the first aid kits, though few bandages are left to wrap them. They
make do. The pain is eased a bit, but heavy doses of morphine will be
required. These are quickly administered.
Yosef winces, glancing back at his flame-ravaged men, and considers
what just happened—a superhuman act of courage and pain endurance.
“Guess what? I know enough about helicopters to understand what you
just did. You men just saved my life. I personally will never forget it. Each
man here will get the Israeli Cross or they will have my resignation. Here
me?! Each man here.” He shakes his head in disbelief of what he just
witnessed. “We go home now.” Which they do.
Puff dips her wings in salute as they land to a greeting of ambulances,
and circles until the runway is again cleared then comes down for a much
needed break. The American wounded spend a weak in intensive care
recovery with the Israelis and then are evacuated to Europe for follow-on
treatment and restorative surgeries.
***
In the meantime, the Hoosier evacuees who turned and moved towards
California have arrived, albeit exhausted, two days ago. They recovered
well, however, under Claire’s Western hospitality, and are at the moment
entering the gates of Disneyland for some much needed stress
management and therapeutic fun for the children. That’s the good news.
Unfortunately, German anarchists have themselves migrated south
intending to deploy a demoralizing attack on Disneyland with small arms
and light explosives. After convincing the decadent Americans that life
can no longer go on as usual after their masterstroke of vengeance against
perceived to be tyrannical world government systems, they plan to
ultimately escape through Mexico for their own R & R to celebrate a
major battle well executed..
They encounter more than they have anticipated in the way of
resistance at Disneyland, however. The well-armed Christian travelers
from Indiana have coincidentally arrived in very near proximity of time to
the terrorists.
At the moment the shooting and hostage taking begins, the party of
Hoosiers has split into two. Ralph, Mike and the ladies are en route back
toward the parking area to enjoy a luxurious picnic lunch prepared by
Claire that includes chilled fresh fruit, champagne, and a huge shrimp
cocktail platter on ice. “She’s still got class, I have to give her that,” Mike
allows, popping open the champagne and filling plastic tumblers.
“After we eat, I’ll ride Nina over to the Disneyland stables and sign
her in. Some of the show horses have been quarantined offsite due to an
anthrax threat, probably a hoax, but who knows? Nina rents out pretty
high at her level of training. It will help me reimburse Claire for
expenses.”
“We’ll all pitch in on expenses, won’t we guys?” Ralph assures Mike.
With the exception of David, the people Ralph is addressing are all
gals, not guys, but they affirm.
“No problem Mike. We’ll carry our share of costs,” Margaret
confirms.
They all unfold canvas fishing chairs and breathe a sigh of relief
amidst the reassuring bright Southern California sun.
“We should consider ourselves pretty fortunate to be able to take a
vacation in the middle of a national disaster,” Elizabeth reminds, popping
a giant cold shrimp covered with red sauce into her mouth. Their group
has barely missed being captured in the first group of hostages, but they
don’t yet know it.
“Darn right we’re fortunate,” Margaret agrees, pulling out a Cuban
cigar and lighting up to frowns of disapproval from her daughter.
“Ahhh! Whew!” she says, simultaneously blowing smoke and reading
a text message scrolling across her phone.
“You know I wasn’t real sure things would resolve so well for us in
this nightmare, though, of course for all too many families they haven’t
resolved well at all. We should keep them in our prayers.
Margaret continues working through her phone messages.
“Hey! Listen to this. Steve just texted that Joe and Clayton were
wounded in Syria but will be OK. They are headed for a hospital in
Germany. We should be able to visit them!”
“Excellent! I mean, the alive and visiting part is excellent, not the
wounded part,” David exclaims. “Call Garfield so he can tell Jon and
Julia. They’ll be overjoyed!”
Garfield and the kids, supplied with a bag of cinnamon pastries in lieu
of real food, have gotten back in line for a fourth trip on the new miniViper, a safer roller coaster for toddlers and kids under 8. A larger seat for
adult chaperone is provided in each car. Water splash at the end and
everything! . . . Julia reflects. Disneyland! It’s real.
Garfield throws his hands up with a scream as they come crashing
down—a little harder with him onboard. They don’t notice the
conflagration going on less than a hundred yards away. Fortunately, they
exit on the side opposite the trouble. A stampede is building over there.
The kids can’t believe it, Disneyland.
“Goofy is right over there, Julia. Look!” Jonathan instructs.
They stare across the oval track out into the busy causeway, and there
he is, seven foot tall if he is an inch: Goofy!
“They even have cowboys here,” Garfield adds, wanting them to be
thinking horses so they won’t miss Nina when she comes out as a show
horse later.
“The stables for the horses are over there somewhere,” he says
pointing off to the left. This is where they think the shooting has come
from, a cowboy act.
Given the troubled state of things around the world, Garfield does a
routine check of the area to be sure.
Isn’t that Ralph sprinting towards out of the parking lot? With a rifle?!
##***!!! There goes David and Hugh with the old Thompson submachine
gun. Something is very very wrong here.
The anarchists have a team moving closer in toward Garfield and the
children. A security guard a few paces ahead of Garfield moves to
challenge them, and they take him out.
Garfield looks over the crowd and appraises the situation accurately
this time. What’s the disturbance there. Dear God, the man’s been shot.
Too good to be true. Too good to be true.
###***!!! I’ve gotta move these kids in a hurry.
“Come on kids, I’ll race you to Mickey’s Castle. Everyone is right
behind us! Let’s try to beat them. Can we do it?”
“Hurray!”
“Let’s go!”
Garfield grabs a little hand on each side and they’re off like a shot. He
doesn’t look back until he sees a likely spot for cover, then gets Mike on
the outdoor walkie-talkie set they have brought just for fun. The cell
phones are still working, but in panic mode Garfield moves instinctively
to the field gear..
“Mike, what happened!!!?” He doesn’t say, we were having a great
time.
“Hostage situation. Many guns. Foreign men. What do you think it
is?”
“Terrorism, no doubt. The kids and I are at the Castle; what do you
suggest we do.”
“Stay put. We don’t know what we are up against here yet, so we are
going to deploy the guns we have around the kids. They come first. We’ll
defend their position until SWAT comes in and sweeps the floor with
these guys. I suggest a triangle. I’ll perform as roving sentry patrolling
with a radio. David and Hugh will take the Thompson to high ground to
cover as much turf as possible. The hillside there on your left contains a
stream bridge with a wall that offers a protected position. David will
throw a tarp over the gun tripod to conceal it until it’s needed. It will be
made to appear as a camera out of order. Hugh can take out his Polaroid
and sell photographs as needed.
“Ralph is our best shot. He’ll take the scoped .308 to the roof of the
admin office opposite your position at the Castle. The ladies will be
secured inside somewhere.
“To conceal the purpose of my patrol, I’ll pretend to join the
entertainment staff with Nina, and then report on any terrorist activities I
see so you will know what to expect from which direction. I’ll do what I
can to cover you once firing commences. Got it?”
“Ralph on the roof, heavy weapon on the bridge, horse patrol
surveillance. Play the rest by ear. Right?”
“Right.”
“Make sure everyone has a radio. Who knows, they might have other
teams that takes down the cell towers.”
“Right. I’ll bring you a weapon in five, Garfield. Meet me at the door.
I’ll be on horseback. God help the terrorist that tries to stop me. Pretend to
buy a photograph, and Nina will do some tricks for you.”
“At the door in five.”
“Garfield . . . ”
“No need to say it Mike, I’ll defend them—with my life.”
“Good man. Keep the kids out of sight. There could be more bad guys;
they could come from anywhere. Our first task is to be invisible and
gather information.”
“Understood.”
“Mike out.”
“Garfield out.”
Having delivered Joe’s massive .50 caliber scoped revolver to Garfield
with two quick reload cylinders, Mike gallops Nina across the trouble area
for a quick orientation look, On the way across Mike stops to “borrow” a
staff jacket at gunpoint from a passing janitor, along with his facility keys.
Mike hands him a fifty and a hard look for his trouble, flipping out an old
CIA credential that used to be real to reassure the staff member he is
doing the right thing. He folds it back again before the man can move
close enough to check the expiration date.
Mike canters Nina back to the H2 to change, putting on his rodeo
Stetson and buckskins for better cover. He returns to ride the perimeter of
the trouble area, He keeps Garfield informed by walkie-talkie, and the
ladies by cell phone. Margaret faked panic and a staff member locked
them into a ticket booth, where they have ducked down out of sight. They
can get out but no one can get in without breaking the door. There is no
reason for terrorists to break into a visibly empty ticket booth.
Mike prances along doing first class show stunts as camouflage,
occasionally getting glimpses of terrorists trying to manage their hostages.
It appears they are trying to round people up like cattle to be slaughtered.
If that is their goal, they will want to do it fast and then try to escape—to
Mexico no doubt. Things are going to start developing here really fast,
Mike concludes. He alerts everyone to stand by and prepare for an
exchange f gunfire.
Nina is pining heavily today for Boss, Mike’s stallion, wondering
where he could have gone. Still, she responds perfectly to Mike’s
commands as she ever did.
One of the terrorists is wandering the perimeter too, incognito, or so he
thinks. Mike has spotted him. He has a radio in his hand and a bulge in the
back of his jacket.
Riding in with his most gaudy show smile as if oblivious to events,
Mike tracks the man closely. Gotta keep looking for an opening, get
information that SWAT can use when they arrive. Gotta keep trying.
There might be a way to rescue those people. Doing a Roy Rogers/Lone
Ranger stand on the haunches, Mike prances his professionally groomed
golden-blond mare forward to much applause. People in this section are
still oblivious to the attack.
Nina is the perfect cover. The terrorist even comes over to get an
autograph. Mike pulls a Hollywood stage photo from his saddlebag stock.
“Five bucks, pal.” Mike takes the cash, ostentatiously adding it to his own
bankroll for cover. Showing so much money turned out to be a mistake.
Oh, his act succeeded, alright. The terrorist doesn’t suspect a thing; but
now he wants that bankroll. Waving a signal for backup at his German
comrades across the way as they move to collect more hostages, he
intends to pivot and draw his Glock on Mike, but Mike sees it coming.
The Palomino kicks him hard on Mike’s cue. Both the Glock and the man
go flying.
Observing this with 10-32X 50 mm binoculars atop the admin
building, Ralph breaks out in hysteric laughter. But he doesn’t laugh long.
This exchange with Mike will break things loose. The shooting will start
soon now for real. He will need to stay alert, but he has used the time to
positively identify his targets. There will be no mistake.
Mike looks around to be sure the terrorists within view have turned to
other matters. Not that lucky, He notices two sprinting his way to back up
their comrade. He leans over the man to block the view of the
approaching terrorists and adds a quick left hook to the chin of his wouldbe assailant to be sure he remains out of action.
Nina kneels on request and Mike heaves the man off a shoulder onto
the horse with a cry of “Medic! Medic!” This is done to make transport of
the man appear legitimate in the event his friends are tempted to shoot
from behind. If their friend really needs a doctor they will hesitate to kill
his ambulance driver. Mike gallops away before either real medics or the
terrorists can arrive.
Another of the terrorists, returning from a parked van, confronts Mike
on the way out. As the horse passes he recognizes his friend thrown over
Nina’s rump. “Oops!” Mike exclaims under his breath, immediately
reversing Nina to face his opponent.
“What the . . . ” The terrorist’s surprise rapidly clarifies into
understanding. Wheeling and drawing his gun expertly in one motion
does him no good as Mike has a pearl-handled Colt .45 in his face before
he can sight his weapon. “Don’t…move.”
Mike observes that the keen grey eyes in the handsome blonde face are
those of a professional soldier. He is thinking, calculating, evaluating.
Those eyes search the cylinder of Mike’s gun carefully, discovering with
disappointment dull grey heavy lead staring back from the chambers
instead of showplace glitter.
“Let me guess, it’s a real gun?”
“Um-huh. Long Colt. Twice the punch of your 9mm. One of these is
all it ever takes.” The terrorist puts his gun away. Mike slams the hard
steel barrel of his Colt revolver down on the terrorist’s head with such
violence that the man collapses to the ground with a moan. He soon
recovers, but not before Mike has bound and gagged him in the nearby
women’s restroom, securing the stall door and slipping under.
One in storage and one to go. “Giddyup. Hah!” Nina bursts into a
sprint without losing either her courtly bearing or her sleeping
passenger—still a prime show horse.
Nina can’t speak, but that is about all she hasn’t learned. Like all
sentient creatures, she thinks and feels in her own way. What she is
thinking today is that she misses the black stallion. Wherever is Boss? I
bet that nice man John is riding him. He’ll get a good ride. I hope Boss
gets his chopped apples and carrots, or he’ll be cranky when he comes
home. But Claire will fix it. She’s awfully nice.
Mike knows they are an item, Boss and Nina. After years of partnering
he can practically read Nina’s mind.
“Boss is OK, Sis,” he reassures, using his private pet name for Nina.
We’ll bring him home soon. He’ll come home.”
He rubs her neck firmly. Nina knows the word “home.” It is the best
one, after “carrot” and “apple”—and “Boss.” Boss home.
Mike’s first prisoner, his would-be captor, is tied and squirreled away
in the engine room of the ski lift. Heat from the powered machinery
makes it exceptionally warm in the windowless cubicle. Mike takes off
his leather shirt, revealing a hard, sinewy strength salted with scars. He
wakes up his prisoner with a splash from his water bottle, pouring the rest
on his own head.
“Afghanistan,” Mike lies, seeing his captive inventorying the damage.
They are rodeo falls mostly. Once, badly gored by a bull, he barely lived.
His beloved Nina pulled him away at the last moment with Mike
desperately gripping a stirrup. Her flank was grazed also, but not deeply.
Two hooves in the chops put the bull off his form for the necessary
moment. The clowns did the rest. Thank God for Bozo. Thank God for
Nina.
“I got away,” Mike says pointing to the big gash in his abdomen. “You
won’t.” Mike pulls a razor edged Marine Corps combat knife. Flashing his
old credential, he identifies himself, falsely, as a CIA antiterrorist agent
with executive authority to assassinate. Whatever it takes to get
information. Mike takes a long slug out of the .45 and holds it in the
man’s face.
“Ever see one of these, partner? Specially loaded by a friend. Superhot, heavy lead. Stop a mountain lion.”
“Now, talk to me. How many of you? Armament? Purpose?” He
repeats this in German, then clicks the hammer back on his gun and rests
the blade of the knife gently between the man’s toes after removing his
boots. He checks his watch. I am not going to wait for someone to die
here. You have 10 seconds!”
Mike makes a grim face as he reaches down to rotate the blade
sideways. It is enough. As a Catholic he won’t torture the man but the
terrorist needn’t know that. Mike may have to confess using the threat of
torture to his priest, the threat being psychological torture in itself, and
pray forgiveness, but his judgment is that it is the lesser of evils in the
circumstances. The man was only frightened for a moment, in any case.
He removes the knife and lowers the hammer to a safe position.
“Ok, you’re in no danger now; you can relax.”
“Twenty-two total, including this one,” Mike reports separately to all
stations, beginning with Ralph. “Limited ammo; two clips apiece and
what’s left in their guns. They were forced to leave equipment bags at the
last roadblock—barely escaped with their lives it seems. According to this
guy, they lost three men and the last remaining nuke in a quick exchange
with a crack air assault team from Fort Campbell. These guys broke
contact and ran . . . unanimously agreed to leave by a different route than
that by which they came. These guys aren’t soldiers.”
He kicks the man in his rump. “Ow! ###***!!!!” Comes muffled
through the gag.
“Of the twenty-one that remain in operation, one of those has combat
training and experience. He is presently trying to untie himself in the
ladies’ bathroom. One other is a recreational marksman with trophies. The
rest barely qualified on the range, nothing special.
“The marksman wears a black watch cap and the combat veteran is
covered as a German tourist, green cloth driving cap and expensive wire
rimmed spectacles. Handsome, blond, thirty-eight to forty-fiveish. Heavy
gash on his temple from my long Colt. He’ll focus poorly for a few days.
Mark those two, the “pros,” as primary targets if the shooting starts.
Again that’s the black watch cap and green driving cap with spectacles.
We have them outgunned, but not outnumbered. Hold your positions and
play defense. We hold the high ground, and access from the rear is
limited. SWAT should be here soon. Mike out.”
A good plan, but, unfortunately the peace does not last. A cluster of
terrorists fire on Mike on a later reconnaissance pass, having learned that
management would not allow any medical transport via horseback. The
Thompson erupts instinctively in David’s hands from the bridge in Mike’s
defense. This brings Ralph’s .308 sniper rifle to bear to cover his young
clerk from the store. Given the track record of these terrorists, nuclear
terrorism, the U.S. capital, millions dead, Ralph forgoes the standard
benefit of the doubt. His targets have been identified. He starts dropping
them the moment they commit to the fight . . . right to left.
Several terrorists are quickly downed by Ralph’s superior
marksmanship. The first to go is the black watch cap. Ralph fires
sporadically, ducking between shots, and randomly varying delay.
Because of this system, the bad guys have yet to identify Ralph’s exact
position. But they’ll get lucky soon. Ralph doesn’t kid himself about that.
David quickly gets their respect with the tripod setup of the .45 caliber
Thompson submachinegun. He is a natural shot, and a cool one. After the
first overwhelming full auto fusillade to clear Mike’s escape, he is not
using full automatic as default, but taking his time for accuracy and
conservation of ammo. This seems most prudent for the moment.
Seeing the drum magazine and tripod through their binoculars tells the
terrorists not to expect that to continue under all conditions. Having
encountered no paramilitary security with automatic weapons at the gate
or inside the park the Germans had relaxed their guard, seeing no need to
scatter their forces. That was a mistake. Before they do scatter, they make
another one. They kill a woman hostage in retribution.
David receives a call from Ralph recommending he take the
opportunity to reduce their numbers. It can only reduce the total number
of innocent victims to come out of this fiasco in the end.
David flips the switch. He just as soon not have to see another
mother’s head blown off in front of her children. An extended burst goes
to the center of the group. He holds the trigger and paints the area side to
side until his ammo drum is empty. What was twenty-one becomes ten.
Those ten are momentarily in a panic. Killing hostages is no longer
considered a wise move.
Round one goes to the good guys. The terrorists scatter, find separate
cover, and begin to individually return fire to the bridge. They don’t yet
know where Ralph is located. Hostages are left to fend for themselves.
Nearly all of them flee to safety. The handful wounded by friendly fire are
quickly shuttled to a staff-operated emergency medical station. All will
survive
Hugh ducks behind the three-foot stone wall of the bridge, but not
before incurring a stinging wound to his shoulder. He grimaces, handing
David a full ammo drum and receiving the empty for loading. David takes
a moment to apply a military battle pack bandage. This came from the
first aid kits Mike delivered to all stations from his emergency stocks in
the Hummer. Hugh starts chewing aspirins and guzzling water, having no
idea if it will help this kind of pain or not. He is too high on adrenalin to
care for the moment. He just keep plugging cartridges into the drum, then,
there it is, the last round they have available.
“Another half drum David, and that’s it. I’m alerting Mike and Ralph
that we may need backup.”
“Good idea. Please do that.”
Hugh gets on the radio and learns from Mike that several cars of police
have arrived, but they are methodically working their way through the
park, clearing each section and evacuating the occupants. They have
created a command post, and are marking off areas of the park map as
they can arrange to secure them. They know the Hoosier’s location but
estimate another thirty minutes to get there, possibly more. Three SWAT
teams are en route from as many counties. Three of the terrorists have
reestablished a hostage location, Most of the arriving police are stalled
there, carefully stepping through hostage response protocols. It’s eating
up time.
Mike’s original goal has been largely achieved, to find a way to rescue
those people, though not without some loss, and a major reduction in
David’s ammo stock. The terrorists are forced to regroup, rethink, and
seek new hostages. Unfortunately, for the larger group of terrorists still
operating here, those closest to hand are children. Goofy bravely steps
forward to shield a group of preschoolers from capture. He risks being
shot point blank for his trouble. Instead, he finds himself taken in their
place.
Observing this with disdain, Mike decides to make a rescue sortie with
his award winning horse. This time he’ll have to go in guns blazing if he
is to have a chance to rescue “the Goof.” It is admittedly not a very
strategic move, but there’s a principle involved. Two principles. First, you
don’t mess with Goofy in front of children. Second, the man has just
risked his life to save the little ones. He deserves a reciprocal gesture, and
Mike has nothing better planned for the day.
As good a shot as Mike is, he knows he is merely dreaming of pulling
this off single-handed, but he has to try. Help comes from an unexpected
quarter, however: another long burst from the Thompson. Being a longer
shot against now very gun shy targets, this produces no losses, but it
suffices to scatter the opposition who have clustered around the Goof—a
big clumsy guy inside a bigger clumsier costume—in an attempt to
maneuver their known to be valuable hostage inside away from sniper
fire. Another good move for David. He is thinking for himself up there.
Given their prior experience, the terrorists heads will stay down for a
very long moment, making the whole thing child’s play for the rodeo star
and his veteran performing horse. It has become a simple matter of a
galloping pickup, which Mike initiates immediately. Unfortunately, at six
foot three, even with Mike’s skill and Nina’s momentum, Goof doesn’t
quite clear the saddle, landing half on and half off. Mike doesn’t pause for
an adjustment, however, he keeps moving.
“Auugh!” comes from behind.
“Sorry about that rough landing Goof!”
Temporarily unable to speak through the pain, Goofy affectionately
pats Mike on the back to indicate that, although he will be limping and
using ice packs for a week or two, he is very grateful to be alive. Plus, he
knows children are still watching. He waves back to the crowd…Yes,
children who are no longer hostages!
Mike notices that Nina is limping too. Once they are safely away, he
leans back and to the right, discovering a 9 mm hole in his horse’s rump.
He quickly finds a place of cover, dismisses Goofy to find a first aid
station, and pulls his veterinary kit from the saddlebag.
“Missed the bone, Sis. Here…” Nina gets a second hastily-chopped
apple with tranquilizer added. “Eat this while I get the needle ready.”
Mike leans over his kit for a moment, then turns back to Nina
squirting anesthetic from the tip of the syringe after tapping it to free up
bubbles. “Poor girl, Mike will make it OK. You’ll get medicine first. It’ll
be OK, Sis. Boy, you did good today, old girl,” Mike praises, patting her
with pride.
Nina smiles to herself. ‘Did good’ she understands. Mike is proud of
her. ‘Medicine’ is usually a pretty good word, not always. ‘OK’ is
definitely good. But ‘needle’? ‘Needle’? She just feels the initial stirrings
of panic as it starts to come back to her, then, Ouch! She pulls at her
secured reins, and stamps, anxious from the pain after all the excitement.
“It’ll be OK, Sis. Everything’s OK. Mike is here.” Mike rubs her neck.
If I can just talk her down long enough for the anesthetic to kick in, we’re
home free.
I’ll trust Mike. Maybe the pain will stop. Oh, that’s right. It does stop
after the needle. That time with the bull horn. She holds on. In a few
moments it does. Mike wouldn’t normally have done this, but considering
that they are in the middle of a combat zone and her career is probably
now over, he felt it prudent to give her another twenty percent to speed
things along.
Fortunate it was a relatively shallow penetration that passed through,
Mike thinks. But her muscle and tendons were nicked. They won’t be the
same. She can live with it, but won’t be a competitive performer again. He
hastily cleans the wound, does some stitching, and applies antiseptic gel
and a strong adhesive bandage.
“Congratulations Sis, you’re officially retired from show biz! Believe
me, you earned it. Take a break for the rest of your life. Job well done.”
Mike gives her some sugar cubes and a big kiss, falling against her in a
proud hug. Tears slip down his cheek.
Well, that’s about as good as it gets. ‘Congratulations’ was always the
best word. I love Boss, but I bet he isn’t doing as well as I am today.
Mike ties her off out of sight loosely enough that she can pull free to
lie down if she has to. If she wanders he’ll just have to post a reward for
lost pet add for a wounded Palomino. Still got a situation here. He’ll try to
get back before the anesthetic wears off. Retrieving a box of cartridges
from the saddlebag, he grimly returns to the fray. “I’ll be back, Sis. No
worries.”
Garfield had not anticipated any of this Goofy rescue business. When
Goofy rode off to safety, Joe’s kids cheered loudly from atop the castle.
Garfield had ascended to the top, assuming it the best vantage point to see
trouble coming and defensible position good enough to buy time for
SWAT to arrive. The area around the castle is now empty, except for
combatants. Given the absence of the crowds and the kids cheering their
loudest for both Mike and Goofy, the terrorists’ gaze was naturally pulled
in their direction. No harm would have come from the discovery of two
children on a rooftop, but Ralph had just been discovered executing his
pop up and shoot routine.
It was not hard for the combat veteran to detect the bright muzzle flash
and sound of Garfield’s monster handgun as Garfield used Joe’s .50
caliber magnum to down a terrorist maneuvering for a shot at Ralph from
one of the roofs opposite. A long shot, but Ralph has installed a 4X scope
in transit and has the pistol sighted in perfectly. Ralph has been saved by
his own expertise, but Garfield has not been saved by it. They are both
discovered, but Ralph can move quickly to a new spot, while Garfield is
tied to the children.
Nodding and waving towards Garfield, the terrorist group commander,
having been released by an unsuspecting security guard from the Ladies
Room, gives a single finger to indicate a lone shooter. He assigns a fourman team to eliminate Garfield, electing to avoid chasing down the trick
shooting cowboy and prizefighting horse until later. He will execute a
logical sequence of steps.
The first step is to first remove the triangulation Mike has set up. We
are sitting ducks in this cross fire. That machinegun, it never misses. The
Munich airport doesn’t have this kind of security! I’ll wait until the odds
change in our favor. Then I’ll deal with Roy and Trigger.
When triangulation is gone, they can safely outmaneuver the
machinegun, flanking it from all sides. Once cover fire from the
machinegun is no longer available, they can set a trap for the cowboy.
Ralph is on the hit list to accomplish the first step, but, Ralph is three
stories up. Garfield is eight. Ralph would be gone before they got there,
but Garfield has two or more children to slow him down. Garfield is,
therefore, job one. His vulnerability, properly pressed, may cause Ralph to
make a mistake or take a risk that will give them further opportunities.
Garfield must now stand alone against a rush by four armed terrorists.
This he does. Seeing their cautious approach from the roof, Garfield
rushes down the stairs with a tremendous roar. He knocks out the first in
line and pushes the rest back to the street, locking the door behind them.
“Dear God,” one of the terrorists laments. “First Roy Rogers shooting
live ammo and now Jack and the Beanstalk is against us. We’ve been
cursed. This is a children’s place. We should not have come here.”
“Foolish superstitions. Recover your strength. We’re going in.”
As the terrorists form up to discuss their plan and begin pointing
around, Ralph sees the writing on the wall. They have resolved to negate
the crossfire. He must change his position before he is trapped by a
similar rush. He’ll have to forget his age until this is over, just as he
traditionally does on the annual deer hunt. This approach to his hunts has
all been contrary to the promise he made his wife to take things easy now,
but, best to stay in shape…you never know he always thought. Something
to be said for instinct.
Rapidly descending the stairs, Ralph becomes mobile on the quad
below, ducking, and surfacing, in and out, in and out, fire and move. The
he ceases fire altogether and doubles back against the directional pattern
he has established. Ralph wants to keep them thinking. He knows they
want that machinegun out of action above all else, but the triangulation
must go first to give them a clear approach to it. He loves David like his
own son, Bob. Bob was lost in Iraq this past year to a roadside bomb
while on routine patrol. As long as he can pose a viable threat to their rear
and flank, they won’t lightly risk a move forward to surround David. He
has found a spot to cover David from close in. He calls Mike to request he
rush over to backup Garfield.
After blasting the lock at the Castle, one terrorist is foolish enough to
charge directly up the stairs and out onto the roof. Exiting the door to the
roof intending to move to a low-profile crouch, he finds himself airborne
in the next instant. Garfield sidestepped him, gabbed an arm and executed
a powerful Aikido toss in the same direction the man was traveling. He
continued to travel in that direction . . . right off the roof and into thin air.
Flailing his arms didn’t help much; he impacted the ground hard.
The others dragged him back out of sight against the wall. He is alive
and safely hidden, but he won’t play again, not in this game.
Garfield takes advantage of the delay to place the children into hiding.
He is then forced into a tactical exchange of shots and maneuvers with the
others. Wielding Joe’s .50 caliber hand “cannon” at a strategic location
near the top of the stairs with plenteous light and sound, Garfield mounts
a formidable defense. He has taken the time to remove the scope mount
with a quarter to allow faster shots a close range. One terrorist is downed
with a through the wall shot. Plaster and slats go flying; they aren’t going
to stop this baby.
The two who remain execute an alternate charge and cover fire routine
that pushes Garfield back onto the roof. Once onto the roof, they split
right and left, causing Garfield a defensive dilemma. There are only so
many places of cover up here—and thin cover it is, all sheet metal, stucco
and slats. This cannon can rip the edge off of anything up here.
Unfortunately, the chances are their 9mms will also penetrate. I can’t
wait for them to out-think and out-maneuver me with a two-to-one
advantage. I have to force a one-on-one, win that, which leaves one-onone where I have an equal chance, and then wait for the last one to
approach, using the advantage of defense over offense. Perhaps he will
panic and make a mistake or perhaps SWAT will get here first. Well, time
is money, here goes nothin’.
He elects to take a combat target stance, and then advances stealthily
in the open upon one of his concealed opponents. He can hear whispers.
Probably making plans on radio or cell phone. His plan is to reap a split
second advantage from his better visibility and the element of surprise,
employing a snapshot to the edge of his opponent’s cover at the first
indication of movement. The goal is to take his opponent just before the
terrorist can reach around the corner and sight his gun. He will fire three
of four inches in from the corner of the vent turbine shaft. The shot could
be deflected, but will probably penetrate. Better odds than having them
simultaneously charge him from right and left. I need just a flicker of
movement or a sound to confirm the target and . . . Blam! . . . Blam!
The first terrorist is killed outright, but the second does the
unexpected, hurrying out into the open to trade shots with Garfield.
Garfield offers a fair trade, expending his last round in simultaneous hits.
Crying out in anguish, Garfield falls, seriously wounded. But his
adversary is very, very dead.
The kids involuntarily peek out from hiding, knowing something is
dreadfully wrong . . . “Garfield!”
Inadvertently falling upon Jonathan, who has rushed to his aid,
Garfield catches himself up just enough to shield the boy from being
crushed. They hearing the approach of the group leader, conversing with
the first battered terrorist who has recovered just enough from his fall to
carefully walk, They expect everyone is dead or dying, but are going to
proceed with caution in clearing the building.
Garfield orders Jonathan to remain silent, then painfully attempts to
rise. They manage to move back inside to a more concealed position.
Garfield has lost use of the giant revolver but slips out the small 8-shot
.22 caliber Berretta backup pistol from his belt that Mike handed over on
Jonathan’s request.
Jon gives him a knowing wink.
Hearing voices approach the utility closet in the stairwell where he has
retreated with the kids, Garfield lies quietly in wait, too grievously injured
to rise again without further rest. He is still suppressing involuntary gasps
from his wound. He whispers to the children to play dead, and then
smears blood on their faces. “They’ll never guess,” he assures. “Just
pretend and they’ll leave. The police are here to arrest them. We’ll just
have to wait a moment then go join your Mom and the others.” He lies
down to wait, close to passing out, motioning for them to do the same.
The three of them initially pass muster, for Garfield is now genuinely
unconscious, and the children fully into the game. The problem occurs
when the terrorists loiter for a cigarette. One of them flicks an ash onto
the children and Julia flinches. This is not seen, but she is caught peeking
in an attempt to find out if her flinch has given them away. The terrorists
decide to take her hostage. Why not. They have too few men left to fight
their way out given the approach of so many sirens. They don’t bother
checking Jonathan again. One child hostage has the same value as two
and much easier to handle.
Fearing Garfield has died or fallen asleep, Jonathan reaches over to
pinch him, inadvertently touching the painful wound..
While rolling over to sight his pistol, Garfield scares his now desperate
opponents badly with a roaring “He . . . rrrrr . . . re’s Johnny!” before
putting two shots into the head of the nearest terrorist. He receives a
violent kick to the chin from the blonde leader, which puts him out again.
The backup gun is tossed aside, though not far, hidden in the dark beneath
a steam radiator.
Jon lies still, having noted the gun’s position. Take Julia hostage . . .
No! Not gonna happen. Dad says if you pray first, then think, you can
solve any problem.
“Come on kid, you’re my ticket out of here,” the terrorist leader says,
twisting Julia’s wrist. He’s planning to move into the woman’s clothier
arcade next door, use Julia to standoff the police long enough to shave and
done a female disguise, then add a staff member’s ID badge he picked up
outside and slip through the crowds unnoticed.
The German is too anxious and distracted to be gentle. Julia cries out
in pain. Garfield’s eyes open, but still dazed, he has no idea where his gun
landed.
The terrorist jerks Julia forward further aggravating the sprain in her
wrist. She cries again in agony. Hatred and unqualified resolve flash in
Jonathan’s face. That’s it. He springs up, darting across for the gun.
Carefully, he reaches it over to Garfield, handling it with respect and
caution as he has been taught. The would be kidnapper, now mentally and
visually focused forward, remains unaware until he is shot fully six times
without pause before he can turn with his weapon. He staggers forward,
stunned, trying to will his body to turn and face the threat from behind.
He finally manages to turn. The small caliber rounds hurt him
critically, but without bringing him down. He blinks rapidly trying to keep
his mind and body from fading out. What was it he wanted to do? He
looks down at the gun in his hand. Garfield makes the mistake of trying to
get up, but can’t. What he gets is the terrorist leader’s attention. Julia
takes advantage of the distraction to break free and run to her brother.
As the German leader waivers and stares from shock, Jonathan
accurately evaluates the problem. It’s the same one he just solved. Same
problem, same solution.
He urgently scans the room, arms wide, mouth open in a question. An
extended “Ahhhhhhh” comes out of his mouth as he methodically rotates
his position, looking for the dead terrorist’s gun, expecting to say “hah!”
at the end, but, not seeing a gun, lets it trail off.
Julia understands her brother’s nonverbals. He’s looking for the gun.
She points, up and over, whispering. She saw the gun lying there on the
far side of a cleaning supply box as she was being dragged away. “It’s
behind the box.”
Signaling Julia to wait with an upraised finger, he slips around behind
the German, puts a cloth over the gun to conceal it, then carries the dead
terrorist’s large gun over to Garfield. Garfield immediately rips off three
rapid shots. The German finally falls, reflexively firing into the floor.
In the meantime Mike has been trading shots with the terrorist remnant
outside, trying to fight his way in. When Garfield’s magnum fell silent he
became concerned, then, hearing the eight smaller shots of the backup gun
expire, alarmed. Time is now critical. He sprints the remaining ten yards
to the Castle, dodging bullets, but getting through thanks to police
arriving on the terrorists’ flank.
Surging up the stairs, Mike finds the gentle giant grievously wounded,
and the kids covered in blood. He winces, but quickly discovers all is not
lost when Jon winks and Julia shouts “Hurray!” He competently applies
bandages to Garfield’s wounds and uses his cell phone to identify the
need for yet another ambulance. The walkie-talkie has a bullet in it.
Mike reassures the children that everything is OK now. Police are
pouring in from all sides. Help is on the way.
The six women who thought they were safely tucked away in a ticket
booth “too small to interest terrorists,” were about to head out toward the
multiplying police sirens, when they were surprised to discover two
fleeing terrorists caught between police in front and police in back, had a
similar thought about the booth.
They weren’t defenseless, as Pam and Susan had conspired to return to
the Volvo to smuggle in Hugh’s hunting rifle and 10 rounds of elk
cartridges as solace. They all felt better having the rifle there, but now
hearing someone trying the door, Jeanette felt compelled to remind them
that hunting rifle bullets would easily penetrate a human being and
continue to travel, potentially killing an innocent person in the vicinity as
far as a mile away. “That’s why Indiana law forbids hunting with highpowered rifles: the state has too many people too close to the hunting
areas.”
Pam, who was making ready to shoot lets out a sigh and relaxes over
the gun. “What do we do?” she whispers.
Margaret stands up close beside the door, the heat of anger plainly
visible in her complexion.
“Let’s play it by ear,” Ethyl whispers back. “Just stay calm and alert.
We’ll think of something.”
Margaret nods agreement, balling her fists up tightly, tensing and
assuming a boxer’s ready position.
The terrorists have begun to pry open the door with a bayonet. The tip
pokes through a bit, and then further. Ethyl’s hand goes into her bag and
comes out again holding a snub-nosed .38 caliber revolver—Ralph’s
birthday present.
The door lock yields to further pressure and a frantic young man steps
in with the large knife. “What!? It’s full of women. We’re at the ladies
bath!”
He doesn’t see Margaret. The knife looks like a problem to her under
the circumstances, so she delivers a powerful left cross that puts him out
cold. As he slumps to the floor his more experienced partner points a
pistol in, but Ethyl quickly takes him down with two shots to the center of
the body.
Margaret jumps back from the noise and fright of sensing bullets fly
past her face within inches. She has powder burns on her arms that she
hasn’t felt yet because of the adrenalin rush.
“###**!!! Ethyl. Next time tell somebody before you do that!
###**!!! Good work, Ethyl, good work, but ###**!!!”
“Really good work!” Pam praises. “These jokers have been killing
hostages.”
Jeanette is giggling at their excitement, but she is shaking from
adrenalin too.
“Right,” Margaret says. “Keep your gun ready, Ethyl. Everyone calm
down. Listen to the sirens. The police seem to be all over the place. Let’s
take a careful peak outside. Unload the hunting rifle and leave it here.
Come on, girls, let’s venture out. Ethyl, stay close behind me with your
gun hand hidden in the bag, ready to shoot. You ladies form up a few
steps behind Ethyl and look as harmless as possible.
Pam picks up the large knife on the floor. “Right.”
“Which direction do we go, Maggie?” Elizabeth asks.
“I don’t know,” Margaret admits. “Give me a minute to think.” She
lowers her head in concentration and takes some deep breaths. “Ok. How
about this. Let’s stay close to the walls here for protection against stray
bullets. We’ll watch and listen until we see either a good guy or a bad
buy, the we’ll either move towards or away from them.”
“Brilliant, Mom. That’s exactly what we need to do. Brilliant. Just
brilliant. Now give me a cigar, quick. I can’t stop shaking…or talking.”
“Here you go, girl” Margaret says, after clipping the end of one and
lighting it. “You may want to pass it around. I see a lot of shaking in this
group.”
“Amen!” Ethyl exclaims. “It’s been thirty years since I’ve had a
smoke, but I think the time has come.”
Margaret lights another for herself, and begins to reclaim her focus.
***
“Pretty cool head for a barkeep,” Garfield observes, noting the precise
bandages, remembering the immediate force placement analysis,
reconnoitering skills, and military communications protocols. “Where did
you get all that battlefield savvy?”
“I served six years. Instructed at Ranger school. I missed the rodeo, so
I didn’t stay. Did a little contract work for the government off and on
afterwards,” is all Mike offers.
“Um-hhm.” Nice guy classroom instructor, my butt . . .
David and Hugh have walked over to check on the kids.
Mike tightens up the bandage David applied to Hugh’s shoulder
earlier. There you go Hugh. The medics are here. They’ll fix you up
proper. It’ll be fine for the honeymoon, four or five months to heal.
Hugh was effective as David’s ammo drum loader, providing small
arms coverage as best he could. He made some noise, but didn’t hit
anything. They knew he was there, however. He was forced to concede
their presence as well, as the bandage around his arm attests.
“Come on guys, let’s check on Ralph he went down over there
somewhere a few minutes ago wrestling a terrorist,” David pleads.
Near the last moment of firing, while Hugh was kneeling to reload for
David, Ralph’s ammo ran out. He was forced to intercept a charging
terrorist football style, hitting him at the knees. In doing so he saved
David from a knife in the back. An intensive wrestling match ensued,
which Ralph decisively ended with his Bowie knife.
When the David’s Thompson machinegun went silent for reloading,
the bad guys assumed their man had put it out of commission.
Unfortunately for them, he did not. Hugh quickly snapped in a new drum
as the last of the opposition mounted a desperate charge. Thanks to
David’s deft use of his weapon, the terrorists’ heads were down when
Ralph made the game saving tackle.
As the terrorists charged the bridge with loud bravado David paints the
group with one final well-aimed burst until all are down, and the ammo
drum empty. He turns to survey the area. All quiet.
Scanning the campus as they walk, the bloodied group of Hoosiers
find the coach lying beneath a dead terrorist. They can just hear Ralph
fervently whispering the Our Father.
Hugh reaches down with his good arm and disdainfully flips Ralph’s
opponent to the side. He does check him for a pulse. Not much hope
there.
“Huh uh.”
He then turns his attention to Ralph, still intently whispering a prayer.
Hugh is relieved not to find the feared gunshot or knife wound, but he
senses that something is wrong. Ralph does not rise.
“Ralph seems OK. But look at his color. He’s purple!”
“It’s my heart, son . . . my heart.” Ralph has resigned himself now to
the inevitable.
“David . . . promise to visit and check on my Ethyl, will you, son? She
has no other family living.”
David looks at Hugh to make sure there is no mistake. Hugh’s
eyebrows go up in despair.
“It’s a promise Coach. I’ll be there . . . twice a week . . . run to the
store as needed. I’ll be there for her, you know that.”
Sirens scream sharply as multiple ambulance vans and countless police
cruisers stream in.
“Thank you.”
“You hold on though, coach. The ambulance is here. You can argue
with Garfield about who gets the bed near the window at the hospital. He
took a 9 mm slug center mass, but is holding on.
Ralph is a little encouraged. He’ll hold onto hope. “Dear God in
heaven,” comes from Ralph. “That man could wrestle a moose. I saw one
of them march out of the tower backwards. I thought Mike’s mare kicked
him. The next one flew off of it!”
The group gets Ralph to his feet, Mike and David each under an arm.
Then Ralph is carried to the exit near the ticket booth where they
encounter the ladies, still lurking alertly in the shadows.
Ralph is put down gently. David instinctively leans over to hug his
coach. Ralph smiles, but then goes limp. At that proximity David can tell.
Ralph is going.
“Dear God, please . . . ”
David applies the mouth to mouth CPR from his high school training,
motioning for Mike to give chest compressions.
An ambulance crew sprints up, immediately taking over CPR. A
defibrillator pops, and pops again. Med techs confirm fears with a shake
of the head.
The ladies all gasp from behind. Jeanette places a hand over her
mouth, turning away in tears.
“Oh Dear God, Ralph, no!” Ethyl collapses to the ground next to her
husband.
Discerning the relationship, the med techs make it official. “I’m afraid
Ralph has gone to a better place, Ma’am. His heart has failed. We’ll take
him on to the hospital, do everything possible. Sometimes they revive.
We’ll keep trying. God may do what we cannot.”
Ethyl manages an “Amen!” despite her grief, climbing to her feet, she
follows them.
Garfield, holding his side and bleeding profusely through the fingers
despite Mike’s knowledgeable first care bandage, limps forward to meet
the med techs rushing at him. He moves on past them, however, and on to
Ralph. They turn to pursue him, assuming he is in shock, which he is.
Garfield turns to Ethyl, “He took out seven, himself, Ethyl, seven. You
should have seen him . . . trading shots with those guys. Turkeys stood a
better chance with Alvin York. They chased Ralph out of his points of
cover, but he always found a better one. Buying us all time, that’s what he
was doing. He went hand-to-hand on the last one. A big sun-of-a-buck,
too. I saw it from the door over there. Ralph tackled him. Boom!
Textbook Rose Bowl at the knees. The guy never saw it coming. Hit the
ground like a ton of bricks.”
Garfield is so pumped with adrenalin he has forgotten a wound that
would be mortal to most men. He chatters quickly on, still in shock…
“He was on top of Ralph for a moment, a bigger man and stronger, but
the Bowie flashed. Ralph cut the tendons deep under his armpit, then at
the elbow. After releasing his grip on Ralph’s throat with the now useless
arm, the terrorist made the mistake of reflexively dropping his own knife
to grasp the wound. Amateur mistake, that’s what that was. Ralph caught
his breath enough to strike again.
“Mental discipline determined the result of that contest. The brute
reached for his knife again in a rage, but it was too late. Ralph’s combat
training had kicked in by then. He didn’t play with him, Ethyl. Straight up
under the ribs. That was all. Game over.”
“Ralph was always a tough customer. In the war, you know.”
With a flash of realization, Ethyl gives in to a moment of panic and
collapses on the ground into a cross-legged position. “What’ll I do
without my Ralph?”
The paramedics roll Ralph away from Ethyl’s still reaching fingers.
“You come stay with us, Ethyl,” Susan insists. “Well, that is, once the
radiation clears. We’ve just added on. Father will be back soon to look in
on you, and young David here.
“You’ve been there on that corner, at the store, since we were kids.
Sarah and I walked to the store for treats before we were old enough for
school,” Susan recalls, referring to her twin sister.
“Ralph always kidded us and threw in something extra. ‘The knot
heads’ he called us because of our high English foreheads and prominent
temples. We kids felt as safe in Ralph’s store as on the sofa at home.
Mom and Dad spoke of him the same as our aunts and uncles. Ralph was
a godfather to every kid in the neighborhood. You and Ralph are family to
us, Ethyl. You always have a place to go.”
“Yes, I will come—if I have to. I’ll just go check. Sometimes they can
do something.”
Rapidly succumbing to shock, though she doesn’t know it, Ethyl
stumbles the few steps back to the ambulance, not fully herself.
Hugh and David jog up close by either side to catch her should she
fall.
A stable hand walks over leading Mike’s patched-up mount.
“Lose something? Figure she must be yours, what with the buckskins
and all.”
Sis is chewing her third apple for the day. She feels a little better after
Mike’s stitching and the veterinary painkiller. Mike keeps his license
current but doesn’t practice commercially. She has, however, after that
second shot, decided to move “needle” to the bad list. She doesn’t know
this man’s name, but he’s got potential. Knows how to handle a horse, and
keeps apples around.
“Hi! Sis!
“Thank you my friend. Here, and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
Mike slips him two folded hundred dollar bills.
“When the dust settles, I’ll be back to buy you a drink. Claire will
want to fix you a steak out at the Paris ranch when she hears what you did
for Nina.”
“Our Claire? The equestrian actress?”
“Your Claire.”
“Look forward to it. Better get back to the horses. Too much
excitement for them.”
“ ’Till then.”
Mike moves to tie Nina to a railing and notices a body behind the
ticket booth.
“Hey! There’s another bad guy lying back there.”
“Ethyl got that one,” Pam shouts across from the ambulance. “A snub
nose .38 in her bag.”
Inside the ambulance, chest compressions have continued on Ralph.
Ethyl now prays aloud.
After a heart injection, Ralph surfaces for a moment, immediately
looking straight up.
“How I wish Father Bernie were here with the Final Sacrament,”
Ralph says to God and himself. Resting his head to the side he discovers
his wife.
She gently takes his hand. “I’ve prayed for you, Ralph, dear.”
“Good. They don’t last forever, you know, Ethyl.” Ralph points to his
ticker.
“I know dear, I know. Garfield says you are a hero, Ralph. I always
knew it.”
“We showed ’em a thing or two.”
“Yes, dear, we did.” Ethyl pats the Smith & Wesson Chief Special in
her bag.
“That’s my girl.” Ralph lauds. “You thought that was the queerest
Christmas gift.”
“Not any more Ralph, dear. You have taught me something. Life is
sometimes harder than we want to believe. You were always protecting
me, weren’t you Ralphie?”
“God will protect you now, gumdrop.” Ralph’s smile brightens, and
then fades. “Goodbye dear,” he offers with infinite tenderness.
“Goodbye Ralphie. I won’t be long. . . . Robert will be so glad to see
you.” She cries.
“Who’s Robert?” Pam whispers to Susan. They are standing by to help
Ethyl out of the ambulance.
“Their son. Army captain. Killed in Iraq.”
“I have to go now, Ethyl. The angels are here . . . and that devil. . . .
Why that stupid SOB is still clawing at me. Pointless, his coming here.
I’m holding onto Christ.”
Ralph’s eyes clear, his smile seemingly reflecting the brighter world
he is looking into.
His wife, joined in the spirit with her husband by God in the Holy
Sacrament of Marriage, smiles with him. Ethyl touches her fingers to his
cheek, and then he’s gone.
“Job well done, dear. Job well done.”
She releases his hand only to begin patting it gently. Something
unseen claws at her arm, but she ignores it. Ethyl could care less about the
devil. Jesus saw to him a long time ago.
Garfield is rolled up to the next van, his condition serious, but not
critical. He has some strength left, though he will have needed every
workout, every steak and every salad before he finally pulls through.
Ethyl pokes her head out intending to climb down. She shakes her
head to the questioning glances.
The kids are held back. They know who “Uncle Ralph” is. He’s the
candy expert down at the store.
“Goodbye Ralph my friend.” Garfield shakes his head, turning to
Ethyl. “I think I can appreciate veterans a little more now.”
“We always went to the ‘Wall’ in D.C. for Veteran’s Day, Ralph and I.
He lost friends there you know: Vietnam.
“Then of course, Robert was killed in the Gulf.
“Ralph served two tours in the infantry, himself. Sixteen of nineteen
killed in one fight. He was a sergeant of some kind, just under his
lieutenant. A platoon leader? Is that right? They were ordered to take two
machineguns from the top of a hill. They did. Nineteen went up, three
came down, Ralph, his lieutenant, and their medic. That’s all Ralph would
ever say about any of it. He didn’t like to talk about it at all.”
Ethyl momentarily loses her train of thought, fighting shock.
“You should marry, Garfield; have children. The little ones are a
blessing to us, you know, not a burden,” Ethyl chides.
“Kids are pretty cool,” Garfield admits. “Jon saved his sister back
there. That little guy has stones,” he says pointing at Jonathan, forgetting
he is talking to a real old-fashioned lady.
“Garfield! . . . .”
Having issued the necessary admonishment, and feeling sympathy for
Garfield’s injuries, Ethyl continues.
“Yes, they are pretty cool, those little dickenses,” she says leaning
down to pat little Julia on the head. She moistens her handkerchief from a
water bottle.
“Children are God’s way of blessing us old fuddy-duddies who forget
to celebrate and have fun,” she says, dabbing blood from Julia’s face. “I’ll
bet you’re just as brave as your brother over there, aren’t you Julia?”
“Noooh!” Julia corrects, looking up with wide eyes, shaking her head
innocently. But Jonathan corrects his sister. “Yes, she is brave as me,
too.”
“You’ve got a pretty good brother over there, don’t you Julia?” Ethyl
allows.
Julia nods a little in the affirmative, holding still for the cleaning.
“There. The men can do their own faces, can’t they, dear.”
Another quiet nod.
Ethyl pulls out a candy bag and passes it over to Julia.
“For you and your brother. Thanks for helping so much. It’s from
Ralph. Share with Jon.”
Julia runs it over and they peer down into the bag poking around with
little fingers, ultimately coming up with a sugar sprinkled gum drop and a
cinnamon ball.
“There’s chocolate in the silver ones, Julia. We’ll find another bag and
split it up. Don’t lose it.”
Julia tightens her grip, then they walk over to hand one to Garfield as
the medics gather to lift him in.
“That’s for saving us,” Jon says.
“Oooh! Cinnamon ball. Excellent!” Garfield exclaims, popping it in
his mouth and smiling.
“I’ll pray for you Garfield,” Ethyl affirms. “You hold on now, you
hear? You’re still a young man. And . . . thank you, Garfield . . . for your
part. It couldn’t have been easy. I’ll visit you . . when . . . well, when I’ve
rested a little.”
Ethyl turns away, moving the few steps to the other van, partly
stumbling, partly falling, to fawn over Ralph. Tears become a torrent now
that it is official. She knows Ralph is okay with God, but it’s right to cry.
Garfield may look like a brute on the surface, but as a literature and
humanities major he has his share of artistic and emotional sensitivities.
“Ralph was a wise man, Ethyl. A guardian of the community . . .
and . . . ,” Garfield tears up himself, “he married well. He loved you
dearly, Ethyl. I saw it in the way he looked at you.”
“God bless you for that. God bless you.”
The med techs are ready to lift Garfield in.
“You’ll have to be quiet now, big guy. Conserve your strength.”
“Right.”
Garfield reaches his hand over to Julia who intuits his meaning and
plops in a cinnamon ball for the road.
“Get well soon,” she says, figuring two of Ralph’s cinnamon balls
should definitely do it.
As they lift the gurney, Jon comes to attention and salutes. The others
follow suit. Next comes a close interview by police officers, and an
exhausted straggle to the parking lot.
Trailing along behind Mike, Nina notices how tired everyone is and
thinks, “Well, I guess we all had a big day.”
***
Back in Moscow things are also moving to resolution. Nekrutenko
confronts Boriskiev in his plush inner office. Black leather executive
chairs surround a heavy oak conference table. Sofas line the walls behind,
the Chairman’s own enormous desk dominating all.
Vladimir Boriskiev slumps into the limp cushion of a small wicker
chair Nekrutenko has purposively placed beside his massive desk. The
President’s desk and chair sit upon a base raised several inches above the
floor. President Nekrutenko peers down ominously at his traitorous
college.
A small brown gun lies near the desk’s center, the Makarov .380 auto.
It is the Russian version of James Bond’s German-made Walther PPK/S.
Boriskiev glances quickly in that direction, then away to study the walls.
The smile he tries to form keeps collapsing, so he just tries to look as
dignified and unfrightened as possible.
Anton looks down authoritatively at the fidgeting worm of a man he
has mistakenly held as friend for so many years, letting an additional
moment or two pass before he speaks. The awful tension is visible
through the open double doors to staff passing outside.
“What did the supernatural dog promise you Comrade? My chair, this
desk?” Nekrutenko’s hand moves to the gun. “Only the truth now,
Comrade.”
Boriskiev sees that the President will waste no time on this, so he is
direct. “Yes, Comrade Chairman. I was to have . . . your job.”
Progress, Nekrutenko thinks, the confession. Out of the way so soon?
That is good. He decides to reward Boriskiev for that progress by making
the mood more casual. Returning the gun to its drawer, the President
waves his hand around the office dismissively, and exhales a long breath,
signaling that Boriskiev’s surrender is accepted.
“You would hate it before a year was out, Vlad. It is a personal curse.
Still, it is a blessing to serve our people. But you would hate it. One
cannot serve himself here in this chair. . . .
A little more pressure, now, let’s not relax too much.
“Tell me the rest of it, Vlad. The dog from hell, the demon, what was
he planning?”
After a few seconds silence, Anton retrieves the gun. He studies it,
holding it aloft and turning it around.
“They give these away now in America, $170. Walther and Smith &
Wesson cost $800. Yet it has always served us well Vladimir, the
Makarov, has it not?”
Boriskiev nods without speaking, his head sinking lower in defeat with
each movement.
The door opens. Sergei, the security chief, leans in. “Is all well,
Comrade Chairman?”
“Yes, Comrade nephew. All is well.”
Sergei begins a smile, but notes that his Chairman has had to resort to
the Makarov. The smile turns to a frown.
After a hard look at Boriskiev, he closes the door a little too firmly. A
moment later, he thinks better of it, stepping back to crack it open
imperceptibly. Imperceptibly, that is, to the President, who is deep in
thought, but not to Vladimir, who begins to sweat, seeing the steely eyes
of the security chief fixed upon him. Better a pit bull were watching.
Nekrutenko returns from the reverie and decides to get to the point.
Corrective action must be taken immediately. “What was the dog
planning Vlad? I will waste little time on this. Make no mistake: your life
depends upon a full answer.”
Sergei’s attention to the crack in the door has evoked the concern of
another staff officer who has been waiting in the lobby with a foreign
guest. A red beret now pokes through the door. Beneath it is the iron face
of the Russian Airborne Forces Commander, General Alexandrov. He is a
man only to be loved or feared. Boriskiev does not love him.
“Is all well, My Chairman?”
“All is well, Comrade. We will make fire on the beach, fish at night,
the women will sing for us, no?”
Alexandrov appears crushed. “No jokes, Comrade Chairman? No
vodka?”
“There will be jokes, and vodka, my sister’s son. And we will feast on
‘river wolf.’ Misca’s new recipe is finished—a top state secret. But not
jokes and vodka alone. There will be singing. The women must sing from
their hearts or the stars will not come out to smile upon our campsite.”
“You are correct, as always, my Chairman.”
“My love to your children, Alex.”
“And mine to my favorite aunt Misca. Comrade Chairman, I apologize
for interruption. You have a female visitor from the American Embassy,
Ms. Taylor.” He coughs meaningfully. “She brings tapes and videos from
Vice President Jackson at your request?”
“Yes, Alex, that is so. Ask her to kindly step in, please.”
Ms. Taylor passes Alexandrov with her normal and unaffected but
nonetheless quite dramatic style of walking. She’s a knockout, but as the
song says “she can’t help it.” The general’s beret goes to his heart in an
exaggerated gesture behind her back.
The Chairman’s hand goes to his.
Taylor dismisses the excess attention with a disdainful smirk.
“Your tapes, Comrade Chairman. VP Jackson sends his best.”
“Thank you, Ms. Taylor. We are camping on the beach this weekend
at Lake Baikal over the Urals in Siberia . . . Irkutsk. You must know of it.
Best fishing in the world, bar none. Larger volume of water than all the
U.S. Great Lakes combined.
“Lake Baikal holds twenty percent of the world’s fresh water, truly
self-purifying. Pollution has not ruined the purity of Lake Baikal. Would
you like to attend?
Taylor’s eye brows go up in thought.
Nothing negative in her expression, so Nekrutenko moves to clench
the deal.
“All arrangements will be made for your travel. Rest before hand,
however—a long flight. We will sing to the stars, feast around the fire,
and fish at night. Perhaps the smallest drink to warm our souls . . . just a
little one if you happen to meet my doctor in the hall . . . and a few jokes.
All very informal. A handful of the Council will come. Their wives are
nice; you would like them.
The eyebrows shift, one now higher than the other. The lips purse in
thought. Nothing serious on for this weekend.
She’s almost there.
“General Alexandrov here who commands the forces parading outside
will also be present. He intones the most glorious bass after a few rounds
of . . .”
“Cocoa, Mr. Chairman?”
“Quite . . . as I think Prime Minister Blair used to say, or tea. The
herbal tea is good here in Mother Russia.”
“It is good, President Nekrutenko.”
The President stands to lean over his desk. He whispers an aside into
Ms. Taylor’s ear, nodding to Alex,
“Unmarried, you know. And his sister has had to cancel. Her seat is
available just behind me near the pilot’s cabin. Two Olympic medals in
wrestling…loves the opera.”
Then to all, “General Alexandrov could escort you officially, Ms.
Taylor. He is first rank hero of Russia.”
The general snaps to attention, and then bows formally to Ms. Taylor.
Nekrutenko insists. “Will you promise, Miss Taylor? We celebrate life
and the goodness of God. We are not here forever, my daughter. It will be
fun. Things have been a bit tense lately. It would do us good to relax.”
“Under the circumstances, Mr. Chairman, I think recent events
underscore your point. I am very pleased to accept your gracious
invitation.”
“Ms. Taylor! You make me a happy man. My secretary will send the
details. General Alexandrov will be punctual.”
Two snaps.
She loves this old guy, despite their sometimes-opposing duties. And
she knows his health status . . . and . . . as for Alex . . . I don’t know why I
am risking this. We will be too close, too long. I’m an idiot. I’ve always
suspected; now it’s official: I’m an idiot.
“I will await General Alexandrov’s call. Goodbye, Mr. Chairman. A
pleasure to see you, again, as always.”
“And you, my daughter . . .
“Oh, Ms. Taylor….Behold your well-placed source who confirmed
Soviet intentions to attack Israel.”
Nekrutenko nods to Boriskiev sitting passively to the side.
“We have no such intentions, of course. It is OK to spy on this one,
this Boriskiev. He is out of favor, and not to be trusted. You will watch
him closely if I let him go?”
“Very closely, Mr. Chairman, if you wish it.”
“Let it be so. Vohlk vah-vyech-yay shkoor-yeh! How do you say it?
He golfs in cheap clothing?”
“Vohlk vah-vyech-yay shkoor-yeh?”
“Dah!”
“A wolf in sheep’s clothing, Comrade Chairman.”
“Dah! A bad guy. Collaborated with the Iranians to bluff Israel with
nuclear missile launchers, and knew of the dirty bomb attack in advance,
collaborated with the anarchists who attacked your country. Told no one.
If I send him to U.S. on economic junket, you will see the Israelis do not
get him? They can be cruel when provoked.”
“That is harder, Mr. Chairman. The Israelis are not happy about all of
this, and well, the intelligence network of the Mossad extends
everywhere. We can only do our best. If a priority reassignment occurs,
an assassin might get through. Small chance, though.”
“It is enough. Until the stars come out, Ms. Taylor.”
“Until then Mr. Chairman. The VP says you owe him one for those
tapes. A small matter of recalling 2,000 battle tanks, or something like
that.”
“A small thing indeed. My assistant, Boriskiev here, was just
proposing the very thing when you brightened our day. He is, how do you
say, a bright and shining star of strategic analysis. He has discerned an
error in the satellite transmission, it seems. It will be worked out with a
minimum of difficulty, I assure you.”
Taylor notes first the well-worn pistol lying upon the Chairman’s desk
and then the two tough guys standing ready to hand at the door. “I see.
Dahs veedahnyeh, Chairman Nekrutenko.”
“Stay well, my daughter.”
Taylor gives Alexandrov a curt acknowledgment in passing,
accompanied by an undeniably flirtatious glance.
“General.”
He nods respectfully. That is a man . . . and his State Department
dossier makes him out to be an honorable one. Russian Orthodox Church,
some honest business investments, devoted to his niece and nephew, and
of course his beloved Chairman and Aunt Misca. Likes classical music
and good wine . . . All I ever meet are Deadheads and McDonalds junkies.
Blah!
“Mr. Chairman! Did you see? I think she . . . ”
Alexandrov leans forty-five degrees, stretching over to peak around
the door. He ostentatiously follows Taylor out with his gaze, quickly
retreating behind the door when she turns to smile back.
“To your duties, General!”
The Chairman chuckles at his nephew’s antics. Waiving him out with
fatherly affection.
“Dismissed!”
A proud father in this case. Alex is the cream of the Russian military
command staff, clearly being groomed for higher things. He steps out.
In the next instant the door has opened again and the mischievous
boyish grin of Alexandrov reappears.
“Thank you, Comrade Chairman!”
“Dismissed.” Nekrutenko laughs.
Alex is merely entertaining his uncle, but . . . there really is something
about Ms. Taylor. No, it is more than that, Alex admits to himself. It is not
just something about her; it is something about us. One should be honest
about matters of the heart. Given the state of international affairs it could
never be, but there it is.
Nekrutenko now turns to his less welcome office guest, Boriskiev.
“You were just telling me the plans of that evil supernatural dog in the
fullness of their detail, I think, weren’t you Vlad? Or was it a pig? I
couldn’t quite tell. The archbishop used words for it that even I will not
repeat.”
“Yes, My Chairman.”
Progress.
“I must have the details.”
Boriskiev grimaces with the thought of that full confession, fearing
both the devil’s backlash and the Chairman’s wrath. If the Chairman
judges my statement incomplete, well . . . whom do I fear most, Satan or
the Chairman?
Nekrutenko notes his struggle and pulls the gun a little closer. Carrot
and the stick.
“Have a drink, Vlad. It is over. God is good.”
“I am a Communist!”
“A Communist who, having made a deal with the devil, knows the
supernatural is real. And you object to the mention of God?” The
Chairman waives dismissively. “An objection not worthy of discussion.”
“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way, Vlad—your call.”
The Chairman pours Vlad a half ounce of vodka and a mineral water
in separate glasses, then does the same for himself. The vodka is quickly
downed in the traditional way, a single gulp followed by mineral water.
All glasses are then replenished.
“In two years your heroic work for the state will be finished, Vlad.
You will be congratulated and quietly retire—at half pension, of course.
Your personal gift to Mother Russia.
If looks could kill.
“I’m trying to save your life here, Vlad. Don’t screw it up.
“Here is your decision to withdraw the tanks, for which you will be
loudly acclaimed in the news. It needs only your signature. Take your
time to consider.” The Chairman’s hand moves to the Makarov. “I will
wait.”
Nekrutenko pushes the decanters over for Vlad’s use. It is their
decision-making ritual. Vlad will brood and study for twenty minutes,
pour two vodkas and then push the decanters back towards Nekrutenko.
He will repeat the procedure. It serves the same function as tobacco for
Sherlock Holmes.
Many cycles of this silent ritual will ensue, as each man intellectually
jockeys to discern which of the two possesses the political advantage.
The political chess match is interrupted briefly by a cold lunch brought
in.
***
Directed by temporary CIA headquarters in Miami, Rachel has found a
way to call the Israeli command post on a secure line.
“Yes, Mr. Vice President, the tanks are being recalled. The traitor is in
hand, and the problem identified: a compromised satellite feed.”
“I’ll tell the President. He’ll be ecstatic. Monty! . . .
“Still there Rachel? The President says to buy the Chairman
something, anything. Put Monty’s name on it. You know him as well as
anyone. Something nice. Tell him I’ll be over as soon as I can, less than a
week. We need a handshake and an eye to eye to close this out.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Vice President. You’ll have an encrypted report from the
station chief in your email in ten minutes, signed copy in dispatch for
tonight’s flight out.”
“Job well done, Rachel. I’ll see you in a few. May God bless and keep
you.”
The Vice President hangs up.
In Moscow, Rachel Taylor does the same, and pauses a moment to
think about the Chairman’s gift. Where can I find something in Russia
that the President cannot get for himself?
***
One hour (many vodkas) and twenty minutes later Boriskiev is still
silently doing an inventory of his allies: Federation Council, State Duma,
Army, KGB . . . it would be close. He must delay in any case until the heat
is off. A surprise move, however . . .
The intercom buzzes—from the outer office the young receptionist’s
crisply articulated voice follows.
“Ms. Taylor has sent over a gift for you, Mr. Chairman. Compliments
of the U.S. Ambassador, and the President!”
The Chairman smiles broadly. “It is too much. Open it please,” he
instructs. “I am a child about such things.”
“Oh, Mr. Chairman. It is beautiful! But . . . it’s a gun!”
The security chief has come back into the outer office. He examines
the gift and enthusiastically reports over the intercom.
“A scandium frame Smith & Wesson ultra-light snub-nosed revolver,
the new caliber: .327 magnum. There is a walnut presentation case and a
choice of belt clip or shoulder holster. Both in nice soft leather. It smells
so new! This must have arrived on the last plane. Very nice, Comrade
Chairman! Two boxes of cartridges are included. Taylor knows you like
to practice, as we know that she does.”
The receptionist adds, “The note reads, ‘The President hopes you are
pleased.’ ”
“Full of surprises, Ms. Taylor, and very generous. This was probably
intended as replacement for her service weapon. Prepare a formal thank
you letter to President Lewis for my signature.
“Sergei, take a moment to read from her file, please.”
The security chief steps around the corner, slides open a drawer,
retrieves a file, then returns on the jog. He lays the folder open on the
receptionist’s desk and speaks into the intercom.
“Born to an honorable military family of no special distinction.
Princeton undergraduate: political science/criminal justice. Joined the
FBI. Quickly moved to the Secret Service upon request of the President
after defending him in a firefight at a campaign rally in Houston. Took out
two Mafia pros with as many bullets . . . a dead shot. Finished her
Master’s Degree in International Studies at the University of Maryland.
Tapped for intern/assistant to the National Security Advisor—three-year
tour. Then moved to the State Department. Turkey, Iraq, back to
Washington, and now Moscow. Assumed to be a field service officer with
occasional clandestine foreign intelligence gathering duties, though she
hasn’t been caught at it…yet. Nothing derogatory. Comments from our
foreign relations officers say she’s as much a friend to Russia as one in
her position can be and remain fully loyal to her own country.
“That’s it?”
“Yes, Comrade Chairman. She did say on the phone that the President
almost died in Israel because of this fiasco. The Secret Service is not
pleased—an event not easily forgotten. They are wondering who is
responsible.”
This last is emphasized for the benefit of Boriskiev.
“Quite a lady, and a most beautiful gift.”
“Please bring it in.”
The Chairman takes a moment to thoughtfully load the revolver. It is
enough. Boriskiev signs. I have pissed off the entire world.
“My considered position has changed, Comrade Chairman. We should
withdraw the tanks. Too easily misunderstood in the current situation.”
“You are a wise shepherd of the people, Vlad. Cigar?”
“Thank you, My Chairman!”
Vlad exchanges the signed document for the smoke with a docile
smile.
All is proceeding according to plan. The Chairman decides to risk a
small bluff. It may save time and . . . well, trouble.
“Tell me the rest, Vlad. We know of the reprocessor at U.S. satellite
station in Australia. Other stations are being checked. But what of the
larger strategy . . . the primary aim and purpose?”
This is merely a guess, of course. But obtaining Boriskiev’s
confirmation now will expedite his report to U.S. intelligence. They are
anxious to dispel any further fears in the American public.
“You will find a second reprocessor in Greenland.”
Ah-hah.
The Chairman gives no outward sign, allowing Boriskiev to continue
uninterrupted.
“The other stations were not to be tasked for these pictures. There
were collaborators on both sides. It was all worked out. The aim was the
total destruction of military defenses in Europe and Israel, after which
both would be assimilated, along with the entire Middle East into a new
Soviet Union. The Soviet Union would be restored, but much greater than
before. Iran, a willing ally, would later become a satellite, and so with
Syria—while remaining fully independent Muslim theocracies in all but
name.
“The Russian Air Force Commander was to be overrun by a demonic
attack, as were you, Alexandrov, and others. Your faith prevented it,
however. We began to notice that many of the key pieces were not falling
into place as the demon had promised. None of this was expected. The
demon had assured us the Air Force Commander would direct his planes
to lie in wait for the Israelis. When their preemptive strike on Russia
came, he would annihilate them with a 20 to 1 advantage—a massive trap.
The fictitious tanks would intimidate the now crippled IDF into surrender.
Israel would be ours. With the world’s fourth most powerful military out
of action, the region would soon quail under further threat, and we would
dominate the world’s oil supply. From there we would simply grow
stronger.
“Iraq, Turkey and Saudi Arabia would be intimidated into cooperation
by what they believed to be an unstoppable armored force. In due time
they would be taken over from the inside. Our victory only presupposed
that the courage and faith of Israel, U.S., and allied leadership, and later
that of your own staff, would fail. It did not.
“After the Israeli dogfight, our planes were to refuel, then standby to
launch an all-out air offensive against Europe with no warning. We would
first watch for U.S. aircraft reinforcements to be committed to Israel.
Once they had arrived, out of fuel, our planes would over-fly them at high
altitude and proceed directly to Europe whence they could not
immediately follow. All Western Air Force bases in Europe would be
destroyed. NATO ground forces would then be systematically obliterated
from the air. Against this there would be no NATO air defense remaining.
“With the U.S. having committed every plane they could spare from
the defense of the United States to Israel, we would have them flatfooted.
They could make no further move. Their deployable planes would be
forced to land in an Israel or Turkey that would soon surrender. They
could neither refuel nor rearm. Their forward bases would no longer be
available.”
“That’s what the supernatural dog told you.”
“Yes, Comrade Chairman.” Vlad takes a large gulp of vodka.
“I was not posing a question, Comrade retiree. I was making a
statement. I mean that, while that was what the dog told you, what he told
the Archbishop under compulsion of the power and authority of Christ
was far different. He said you were all patsies. It was all a ruse to cause
the destruction of the planet, to destroy families, to torture children, and
abolish the Church.
“Israeli planes were presumed to be successful in their first strike, not
massacred at all. Americans were expected to follow with further
successful strikes into the heartland of Russia. And then you, who were
under the evil influence and therefore defenseless against demonic
possession, were to push for a massive nuclear retaliation that would
ensure worldwide holocaust. There was never to be a new and glorious
Soviet Union with Boriskiev at the helm, Comrade, only planet-wide
destruction. As the Americans say, you were being taken for a glide.”
“Dear God.”
“I will now deliver your order of tank withdrawal to the Army Chief of
Staff, and alert the CIA to the satellite deception.” The scandium snubnose is in Nekrutenko’s hand now. He cocks it. “As a reward for service
to the state . . . ”—Anton has to stop to consider for a moment what
possible use this man can now be—“you are given sabbatical to write a
book on the history of our glorious republic.”
The Chairman sights down the barrel, picking out a spot on the ceiling.
He then slowly brings the gun around, passing directly above Vladimir’s
head.
“This will be done at home and you will be quite busy with it.
Understood?”
“Understood, Comrade Chairman! I will make it first-rate exposition.”
“Dismissed.”
***
“It is a gorgeous bonfire, General. Buckets of beer on ice, fresh
Salmon on the grill. I could be home in Minnesota. It is fish, isn’t it,
Alex? I wouldn’t eat a real wolf,” Rachel laughs.
Alex laughs with her. “The Taimen salmon is called the ‘river wolf.’
This is because it consumes meat at about the same rate as Canis lupus. It
takes ducks whole from the surface of the lake. As big as a man is this one
we are eating,” he pauses to convert from kilograms, “over 150 pounds.
“I’m glad you are having fun, Ms. Taylor. May I bring you a shish
kabob? The Chairman’s chef will not forgive us if we do not try it. He is
deservedly famous for this. Each time it is different. Tonight the famous
Japanese beef: Kobe steak. Flown in especially for the Chairman.
Marinated in red wine and teriyaki sauce, sautéed on a sizzling grill with
red and green peppers, small red potatoes, fresh onions. The aroma alone
is dazzling.”
“Please.”
She watches the airborne commander make his way up the beach to
the main tent, his athletic profile accented by the larger bonfire there. This
will never work . . . our security access. I can’t bring my secrets here and
he can’t take his secrets there. But for the moment we are . . . friends. I
have another year on station here and . . . this is nice. She smiles.
Perhaps I’m not an idiot after all.
Alexandrov comes running back, long sticks of gourmet cuisine in
each hand. “Here you are, Ms. Taylor.”
“Rachel, please. The Chairman was explicit: all is to be very
informal.”
She takes the shish kabob, and then Alex’s arm with such grace that he
cannot object. She immediately ignores the fact that she has done it.
“Oh, this smells wonderful.” Her emotions begin to well but she
presses them down again with a ferocious act of will. And, then again,
perhaps I am an idiot.
“Rachel . . . ” He pauses a moment to enjoy the sound of her name,
and the pressure of her grasp on his arm. “Enjoy your food, but please,
accompany me back: special guests. You will want to see them.”
After a few moments of companionable eating, they walk barefoot in
the sand along the point back to the main tent.
They don’t have long to wait. A moment of suspense, and then
President/Chairman Nekrutenko appears to much applause. He is casually
fashioned in khakis, sweater, windbreaker and boat shoes.
Nekrutenko’s left hand comes up. He has an announcement.
“It has been a perfect day, and my joy at this moment is complete. We
have surprise guests, just arrived from Israel. May I present to you . . . the
President of the United States, Monty Lewis, his beautiful and charming
wife, Anna, and the new Prime Minister-elect of Israel, Danny Yosef.
“Welcome to the beach party, Mr. President, Mr. Prime Minister,
Madam First Lady!”
“Thank you, Mr. Chairman. You are a gracious host, and a good
friend.” President Lewis responds.
The U.S. First Lady, snuggled comfortably in several layers of rich fall
tweeds, does a charming bow-curtsey.
Yosef leans his powerful frame over in brown leather bomber jacket
and white woolen scarf to vigorously shake the Chairman’s hand.
Monty puts one arm around Nekrutenko, who returns the gesture. The
other goes around his wife.
She likewise embraces her cousin, now the Prime Minister of Israel,
but to her, and to him, still the young friend of her childhood. For them,
neither time nor high society will have any effect on family and
friendship.
Nekrutenko’s Misca snuggles under his arm as well. All wave to the
assembled guests, a typically informal beginning to one of Nekrutenko’s
luaus.
The dignitaries then disentangle to address the assembled guests.
Anton nods to Monty to speak first. “There will be no speech tonight, no
formalities, just a cordial visit with our friends in Moscow. Everyone is
exhausted. The planet is exhausted. Please . . . relax and continue your
wonderful meal. Mr. Prime Minister?”
“May God bless all here,” Yosef exclaims. “Do not let us intrude upon
your fun. Please . . . return to your meals. I look forward to meeting you
all.” This is not rhetorical flattery; Yosef still has the energy to make the
rounds. Big Dan does not view people as crowds, electorates, voting
blocks, etc., but as individuals worthy of his respect and personal
friendship. This is why he was elected. Israelis forgot their internal
political divisions and simply voted for their friend.
The President takes a shish kabob from Nekrutenko after one is first
offered to Anna. “Thank you, Comrade Chairman.”
Famished to the point of weakness after the flight and a long day of
meetings, Monty finds the tantalizing aroma of Kobe steak in wine sauce
overwhelming. His appetite and strength are fast returning with the
success of antibiotic therapy. Gulf War Illness was confirmed, but the
Doxycycline is doing its job. He has discovered that a strong diet, meats,
eggs, cheese and salad, have a noticeable effect on this accursed infection.
The brazed onions, peppers, beef and potatoes rotate in the air for a
moment as Monty circles the stick near his nose—then quickly disappear.
Anton immediately presses him with a second. At this rate I’ll be back
to full strength in eighteen months. Thank you Professor Garth Nicolson
for finding the cause of Gulf War Illness! We should have listened.47
Archbishop Spiridonov hikes over quietly to introduce himself, but
President Nekrutenko sees him coming.
“My archbishop approaches, Victor Spiridonov. I’m going to be
Russian Orthodox soon, you know.” The Chairman smiles broadly.
“Mr. President, the Archbishop of St. Petersburg, Victor Spiridonov.
Archbishop, meet President Monty Lewis.”
“Your Eminence. A pleasure to meet you.”
“I am most pleased to meet you, Mr. President. How is your health?”
“Improving. I picked up the Gulf War Illness germ somewhere along
the road, I’m afraid. Antibiotics are working well, however. I will be OK
soon.”
“Along the road! If you knew it was a germ, why did you pick it up!
This is terrible,” Nekrutenko exclaims.
“A figure of speech, Mr. Chairman. I apparently got the germ from a
contaminated medical vaccine.”
“Contaminated vaccines, yes. This I understand. We have same thing
here. It has only just been discovered. Mycoplasma something or other. A
new germ, probably made in laboratory.”
“Yes, Mr. Chairman. Mycoplasma fermentans incognitas. The whole
thing begins to look like a cover-up. We are going to investigate all over
again. Why did the government give no credibility to Professor Nicolson
when he informed the Congress and the President’s Commission of this
germ following the Gulf War in 1991? Nicolson is a top-ranked
microbiologist. At the time he made his findings and presented them to
the government he held a prestigious cancer research chair at the
University of Texas M. D. Anderson Cancer Center and had already been
nominated for a Nobel Prize. He swore by his research, and it filled all the
scientific squares. Veterans were recovering under his treatment protocol,
and no one else’s. Yet no one listened.”
“The way the U.S. experimented upon human beings and treated its
Vietnam and Gulf War veterans is a scandal, Mr. President. But I know
you do not do this,” Nekrutenko offers as a fatherly lecture.
“Professor Nicolson and his wife put the entire story in their novel,
Project Day Lily. Day Lily revealed the whole thing: compromised
biowarfare defense researchers and politically-cowed VA and military
medical officers. The truth that the veterans were suffering from an
infection by a new biowarfare germ was covered up. KGB has ten of the
first copies sold. And now you have this accursed plague yourself!”
“I do not do such things, you are right, Mr. Chairman. Granted I
missed the boat when Project Day Lilly came out. I was in the CIA at the
time. I just believed the company line—nothing too it. I personally
dismissed Day Lily because it was fiction. It never occurred to me that a
novel was the perfect way to get the information out without putting
peoples’ lives in danger by naming names, and useful to avoid law suits.
“I doubt no more, however. I am instructing the VA and all military
hospitals to make Doxycycline treatment available on a trial basis for any
veteran who presents a symptom profile similar to Gulf War Illness. Twoyear trials. If they improve, they stay on the treatment just like anyone
else who tries empiric antibiotic treatment for ailments in the civilian
sector. If it works, it works.
“It is too late to fix the problem fully. Much of the damage is done; but
I’ll do what I can. The whole thing was a travesty. Our Army held a
patent on the germ the entire time and when Nicolson raised his concerns
DOD pretended they had never heard of it.”
“Your Vietnam veterans were similarly dishonored, Mr. President,”
the Chairman reminds, holding up a stern index finger. “They too were
denied treatment: Agent Orange poisoning. Once again your medical
community asked the suffering veterans to prove their own illness,
accusing them of psychological problems.
“Shame and dishonor to your government for insulting your heroes . . .
shame and dishonor. I would assign such doctors to infantry. They would
never again leave the front lines. All their ailments would be documented
as psychological. Cold, flu, broken leg . . . psychological. They would
have one eternal choice: rifle and foxhole, or Prozac and straightjacket.
This would be justice!
“We here in Russia, we knew what was causing the Agent Orange
health problems. Dioxin and other toxics from herbicides, especially after
burning by napalm bombing. Burning a herbicide or pesticide makes it
more deadly. By following herbicide treatment with napalm burning they
created the rough equivalent of a chemical warfare nerve agent in place on
the battlefield. This is same as a binary weapon that becomes deadly only
when the ingredients are mixed. We follow such things. We assume it was
unintentional, but who knows. Public domain research would not reveal
the effects of burning on these chemicals for another 25 years, but . . .
there was a war on, and classified military research does tend to stay
somewhat ahead of the public domain.
“Then there were the 400 black sharecroppers in Alabama that the
United States Public Health Service used as human guinea pigs for
syphilis research without their knowledge. Shame and dishonor to your
government to treat these honorable men so. They were denied treatment
for known illnesses and allowed to slowly die while being tested
periodically along the way to accumulate data on the course of the
disease. It is sad.
“Historically, Russian hands are not clean, of course. Stalin did worse
in the gulags, as did Hitler. We must grow beyond such things, Mr.
President. The dignity and honor of the individual person must be
preserved, without that, nothing we do has meaning.”
“We must, and we will. Let’s drink to it: to a better world.” President
Lewis scans the area. “Do you have a cold beer around here someplace,
Anton?”
The President continues looking. Such a glorious feast, but incomplete
without an ice cold Bud to wash it down.
“Perhaps, Monty, perhaps. American beer is hard to find in Russia.
Nonetheless, for you, I will try.”
“Make that two,” Anna says politely, gesturing with her fingers.
“Four” her thirsty muscle-bound cousin adds with what seems to be
mistaken addition.
Nekrutenko does his math in similar fashion. He’ll bring four . . . if he
can find them, plus a few spares. He enjoys a cold American beer now
and then, himself, though he doesn’t drink them in public from a sense of
patriotism.
“Ms. Taylor!” the Chairman shouts at a passing couple. “Where have
they put the beer. Your President is thirsty?”
“Just beyond the point to the right, Mr. Chairman. It’s a beautiful stroll
in the sand. I can show you.”
“Such a lovely evening; let’s all go,” the Chairman encourages. “Then
some of us will have strong coffee and fish until morning. Fishing is
optional, but all are invited. We will be children again. It renews the
soul.”
As they walk Anna’s womanly instincts alarm on something. She
intuitively takes Rachel’s arm, then the Chairman’s, whispering into his
fatherly lean in her direction.
“Sign me up for fishing, Anton. But first, Rachel and I have some
catching up to do.” Then loudly “And she’s going to tell me all about that
gorgeous man clinging to her arm.”
And so she does. The men and women are now compelled to separate
by the universally recognized protocols of feminine gossip. There would
be more humor if the men stayed, but the ladies wouldn’t make nearly so
much progress.
The three most beautiful women in the world, Alexandrov reflects.
Anna Ben-Manashe Lewis, Aunt Misca, as everyone calls her,
affectionately contracting Misteria Katerina, and . . . Rachel. What an
evening. With a double snap and a respectful nod he acknowledges
Anna’s compliment, “Madam, First Lady.”
“Here,” Nekrutenko presses more shish kabobs into the men’s hands
as they pass the buffet table. He knows that healthy males can consume
such delicacies at great length without harm—meat and vegetables, no
sugar. For himself, he takes the same, adding a thermos of coffee. The
Chairman points to rows of twin thermoses near the end.
“Monty and Big Dan, you better take one of these if you are going to
fish.”
They do.
The Chairman calls his friends close to the fire with a wave as the
evening chill descends upon the rugged wooden benches surrounding the
bonfire. Nekrutenko has not overdeveloped the area, preferring the power
and beauty of nature to the comforts of civilization. The elemental force
of a brisk evening on the giant and pristine—one is tempted to say
prehistoric—Lake Baikal is unmatched anywhere in the world, except
perhaps in undeveloped Alaska.
“Monty, you don’t know how good it is to see that you are well.”
“Thank you, Anton. The doctors say it was close for a moment or two.
This man here, the big general from Israel, saved my life . . . with a
prayer.”
“This one I know, from battle summaries and intelligence reports: Big
Dan Yosef. And of course . . . prayer always saves lives.”
The Chairman comically mimes intensively flipping through a sheaf of
paperwork. “Yosef . . . Yosef . . . Yosef . . . and Yosef. All bad news for
militant Arabs, these pages. I do not feel a stranger to him. His only flaw
is having been born in the wrong country.”
Everyone laughs as Anton reaches across to shake Yosef’s strong hand
in honest friendship and gratitude for helping Monty to survive. “Thank
you for healing our President. And remember, Danny Yosef, the Arabs are
Russia’s friends and allies, yes. But you are not our enemy, Prime
Minister. I was telling Ken Wiles. Your differences with the Arabs are not
ours.
“Understood, Mr. Chairman. Someday we will all come to see that we
serve the same God, and that world peace serves all our children’s future
the same.”
“Let us pray for that,” Anton says. “Where two or more are gathered.
Is that right, my Archbishop?”
“Perfectly right, My Chairman!”
“Will you lead us, Victor?”
“Our Father, who art in heaven . . . ”
All follow along, and, with the Chairman. pause with heads bowed for
a moment of respect after completing the prayer.
“I would like to propose a toast,” the Archbishop quietly announces.
“A toast!” Alexandrov echoes more loudly to get full participation. He
raises his cup, a cup that began as honest coffee but was soon adulterated
with a healthy splash of bourbon from a flask President Lewis brought
along for the chill. “Ken Wiles sends his regards, General Alexandrov.
And I offer mine. Thanks for looking after our Chairman here, for keeping
him safe during the tough moments over the past few years.”
“You do me great honor, President Lewis. But it is no burden to serve
a real leader like our beloved Chairman,” Alexandrov responds, getting an
extra firm handshake from Monty and a slap on the shoulder.
Alex has never been happier in his life. The President’s bourbon is
delicious, though fully unneeded. Alexandrov has gotten well ahead of the
chill trying to keep up with Ms. Taylor, known to be a ‘party animal’ in
the more dignified official sense of the term. Alex can handle it. He still
runs the obstacle course, combat competitions with small arms,
equestrian—even a little playful wrestling with the Olympic team.
Alex tends to show up in Monty’s briefings much as Yosef appears in
Nekrutenko’s. What alcohol his 210 pounds of solid muscle will not
quickly burn through physical activity his active mind will quickly
consume.
The Chairman stands and raises his cup next to his Archbishop’s.
Anton’s cup has received a similar splash from President Lewis, “just for
good measure.”
Following protocol, all present stand with their host. Arms extend as
high as they can reach following Spiridonov’s dramatic gesture towards
heaven. Gazes are directed skyward.
“To the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit!” Spiridonov booms.
“To the Father, Son and Holy Spirit!” echoes from the crowd.
The Chairman motions to be seated.
“What an evening!” the President remarks, examining a magnificent
starry Irkutsk sky. The late evening Lake Baikal euphoria is beginning to
spread.
Nekrutenko nods agreement. “It is glorious here. I would not go back
to Moscow if I had a choice.
“Can you believe it, Monty? One day the world is coming to an end,
and the next we are sitting around the bonfire on a perfect evening right
out of Eden itself in absolute peace. Humanity has lost its mind.”
The Chairman reports this to the stars and no one in particular. He
shakes his head. Then he tells them the story revealed by Boriskiev.
“The work of the devil,” Yosef remarks after a full hearing.
“So my archbishop has been telling me, Mr. Prime Minister.
“Victor, how did it go down there, with the exorcism of that foul dog
from hell?”
“It is gone, Anton. Let us speak of the darkness no further, but remain
in the light of Christ. It is gone. One came back, only one. You can easily
guess which. But for now, the battle is over . . . for now. And for now I
am exhausted; my priests are exhausted. But God is good.
“I do not have your silver flask, I’m afraid, Anton. It was expended in
the line of duty. An old sickly grandfather needed strength. He was an
excellent host while I fought the evil one. His son gave his life for us in
Afghanistan, my Chairman. If you will tell me the flask’s value I will
soon replace it.”
“Give it no thought, Nikolay, friend of my youth, no thought. I have
several,” the President/Chairman assures. “For what you have done,
Nikolay, I will give you a replacement, and a medal.
“Alex, check to make sure the old man’s son gets a patriotic marker of
first quality.”
“Consider it done, my Chairman.”
“God is indeed good,” the Archbishop exclaims.
“It is right to give him thanks and praise,” Anton intones.
“Look! We thank God and he immediately gives us a wonderful gift.
The beautiful ladies are returning to brighten our night!”
The men adjust their positions to make room. Anna whispers not very
quietly into Monty’s ear, “I think Rachel is going to request an extension
of her tour in Moscow. She has an insoluble problem, it seems: love at
first sight. A marriage that can never be—security restrictions.”
“Alexandrov?”
“Ye-e-es! Isn’t he the most wonderful . . . I mean Ye-e-es!”
“I see. I’ll put in a word for Rachel at the State Department to request
another tour. It may take a few more decades, but the U.S. and Russia are
moving steadily towards full ally status. The world may take a while to
adjust, but so be it.”
The President speaks this in normal tones, perhaps due to the chill in
the air, the bourbon, or perhaps the GWI has caused him a slip—or
perhaps he has chosen to do the wrong thing for the right reason. We will
never know. Whatever the motive, Nekrutenko takes it as a non-private
discussion.
“You are extending, Rachel! This is wonderful!”
In Russia a word by the President equals a command. Anton assumes
it’s a done deal.
Alexandrov beams with delight. President Lewis! Is he not the most
wonderful man?
All are smiling.
Then it happens. The Chairman chills the beans:
“But why can’t you be married? Not under law, I mean. That is
impossible. I would have to put you both in jail. But married secretly
under the authority of the Church?”
“Victor? How about it? No records. No nothing. You take a walk. The
lovebirds take a walk. One witness (who can be trusted to keep his mouth
shut) takes a walk. So . . . a handful of good people all happen to meet at
the dock. So what. One says ‘How about a boat ride?’ another ‘It would
be fun,’ and then ‘Let’s all go,’ ‘There’s plenty of room,’ and so on—
perfectly natural. The boat goes out. The priest mumbles a few words. A
kiss is not a crime, even here in Russia—not anymore.”
Misca underscores his point by leaning over to kiss her husband
floridly on the cheek. He takes a moment to dramatically recover, then
continues his suggestion.
“No one hears, no one knows. They come back. Everyone is smiling.
The priest has another drink with his Chairman and the entire episode is
happily forgotten. It slips from living memory before anyone can think to
fill out the appropriate marriage forms. There is no record of it. In Russia,
if there is no record, it never happened.
“What has changed? The couple occasionally shows up in a hotel
together. So, what? God knows they are married; they know they are
married. He tells KGB she is a potential intelligence source; she tells U.S.
State Department the same about him. Career bureaucrats on both sides
congratulate each other on the intelligence coup of the century.
Promotions occur all around, yet absolutely nothing has changed. This is
normal in spy business, is it not, Monty? Big Dan?”
“The phenomenon is not unknown in my experience,” Monty replies.
“Have you guys read Robert Littell’s novel, The Defection of A. J.
Lewinter?”
Big Dan, bent over with uncontrollable mirth by the Chairman’s
humor, just laughs and nods, waving off further comment.
“Ah, but Monty, in Lewinter’s case something did change. He brought
over real U.S. nuclear missile trajectories, though precisely the same thing
would have occurred had those trajectories been false. All the players in
the novel, Diamond, Lewinter, Pogodin, Avksentiev, etc., acted based
upon what would get them promoted, not truth or patriotism. Had the
trajectories been false, exactly the same thing would have been done for
the same reason, promotion, but the reverse effect would have been
achieved in U.S. and Soviet defense postures.
“Robert Littell is one of my favorite authors: The Company, Walking
Back the Cat, and so on. The former British spy chief, Stella Rimington is
also good; Len Deighton, Charles McCarry…. The Chairman, an avid
reader, waives his hands around to indicated the large world of literature
waiting to be explored. “One can learn from fiction as well as nonfiction.”
As usual, the Chairman has his audience in the palm of his hand. He
enjoys the moment, but there is something important that needs to be
done.
“Well, listen to me, a senile old man. What have I been saying! Having
a romantic daydream in the middle of the night. It might work, a secret
marriage, but only in Walt Disney movie. It would all be terribly illegal,
of course. For any of us to know of such a thing and not report it, well, we
must dismiss the thought. How do you Americans say? I was merely
having a brain tart?”
“Terribly illegal,” Yosef agrees. “Besides, it’s commonly known that
the Israelis are the only ones who can keep their mouths shut.”
Big Dan leans back smugly congratulating himself on not having
missed an opportunity to rib his colleagues.
“Seriously, though, it is a beautiful thought, Mr. Chairman,” Yosef
continues, “in theory, mind, in theory. If you can believe it, I myself was
once accused of breaking the rules for the right reason.
Now it’s Nekrutenko’s turn to chuckle.
Yosef continues. “The ultimate purpose of rules, of course, is to
facilitate the achievement of what is good, not to prevent it. Locke,
Hobbes, Marx, Rousseau—all the great political thinkers agree on this. It
is the foundation of law and government itself.”
Yosef stands to stretch his limbs.
The Russian President grins as he watches Big Dan rise, Yosef’s brute
strength making it seem as though he has lifted aside a tree laid across his
back.
“Alas, my old wounds begin to ache in the evening chill, Mr.
Chairman. Not as young as I once was, I’m afraid. I think I’ll stroll
around your beautiful beach, if you will permit me. I must loosen up the
joints a bit.
“Lake Baikal! What a glorious night for a stroll.”
“Mind if I tag along?” the archbishop inquires. “My joints are
certifiably as old as yours.”
“Not at all. Men of the cloth are always welcome.”
As they pass the lovebirds the archbishop moves his hand close to his
body, turns his back to the crowd, and emphatically motions toward the
dock.
After a suitable moment, Alexandrov gets up and stretches. Rachel
takes his arm.
“Let’s stroll along the beach before the fishing starts, shall we?” the
Russian special forces officer requests gallantly with the usual formal
bow.
“We shall.”
Anton immediately checks his watch.
“The fish are biting now, Alex. Why don’t you take Ms. Taylor out to
the prime spot near the cove. But promise to leave a few for the rest of us.
I will go out again tomorrow with my lovely wife, Misca, here. If she
catches nothing, the staff meetings will not be pleasant.”
Misca laughs out loud, falling against her husband, head nuzzled
against his neck.
Alexandrov snaps twice. “A small catch, my Chairman.”
The Chairman laughs too, relishing these moments with his favorite
nephew and good friends. He pulls Misca close. Their arms having been
entwined from the moment she sat down. He whispers something and she
stands to leave.
“Enjoy your stroll, my friends.”
Nekrutenko stands to address the larger group. “If you good people
will excuse us, Monty and I have a few items of business to go over.”
He waves the bodyguards back a few yards. Lewis does the same.
They lean in close for a private exchange on selected international issues.
The others wander off toward the shore.
Anna takes Mrs. Nekrutenko’s arm. They stroll over to check for
cocoa and pastries. Anton’s wife, Misca, is a strong beauty in her own
right, descended from Polish royalty, and still in prime health. She will
nonetheless soon return to the nearest village by limo for the comforts of
home.
Misca likes regularity, maintaining a strict schedule and health
regimen. Her perfect figure and skin show the results. At forty-three she
easily passes for late twenties. Anton of course is much older.
Nonetheless, he will fish all night with the men, philosophize over a few
drinks, and enjoy snacks and steaming coffee.
Night fishing is a far different experience than lolling along the bank
in the midday sun. A powerful nighttime strike evokes excitement
anywhere, but the size of the game fish here. . .well, they could not
attempt such a thing in safety minus the aid of an array of floodlights, and
a well-trained captain and crew.
The evening’s catch will not be wasted. When “Aunt Misca” returns
tomorrow, her secret sauce, the herbs, the spices, the white wine sauce,
the hickory fire will all blend to produce an aroma to die for.
Accompanied by scrambled eggs and croissants it will be the perfect
outdoor brunch. Then the men will nap until evening, get up and do the
whole thing over before returning to pressing duties for their respective
governments.
Misca’s attendants will accomplish most of the work, unavoidable for
such a big gathering. But Misca, herself a most excellent chef, likes to add
a personal touch. She will closely supervise. There will be no hint of a 20year-old beauty queen if her instructions are not followed. Friends are still
family to the Russian people, as they once were in Western society. She
will give them her best as hostess, demanding strict compliance from
staff.
An hour later, the conference adjourns and it is time to fish. At the
dock the heads of state blissfully leave their high positions aside. Those
will keep well enough on the bank here until they return.
“Prepare to board!” Anton instructs.
Thermoses and snack baskets are handed over, then the men step
across to the deck of a small tug-like lake cruiser. They notice a motor
launch gliding in through the light fog.
“Look my chairman! Breakfast!”
The archbishop holds up a large lake trout, a lenok, similar to the
American brown.
Yosef has an even bigger one—real prizes—both pushing forty inches.
“Gifts for Mrs. Nekrutenko, whose recipes are known and relished
around the world,” the Israeli PM reports.
“Thank you, my friends. And you Comrade General? Ms. Taylor?”
“We didn’t fish, my Chairman. We just enjoyed the ride.”
The crew transfers the fish into a set of large live box holding
containers built into the dock. They lower a ladder for the men, who come
aboard. Rachel steps ashore and waves excitedly to the ladies.
Misca barely beats the American First Lady in a race to the shoreline.
The ladies will fish together from the dock for a bit, but first there is much
to discuss. The priority now is to hug the new bride.
After many tears of congratulation, Rachel recovers sufficiently to
thank the Chairman without being specific.
Shouting across to the boat, she raises her volume to reach above the
engines. “Thank you, Chairman Nekrutenko, for such a lovely evening,
and…for everything. An evening I will never forget!
“And such a peaceful lake. I would like to come back sometime!”
“You are welcome, my daughter.” Nekrutenko shouts back. “Of
course you will come back. Return as often as you wish. This area is
restricted, completely private. The general has an Aeroflot pass. Call him
when you wish to enjoy the lake. I order him to comply. When the
general’s duties bring him to Irkutsk, he will call at the embassy.
“The new beach house will be up soon. Right Alex?”
“Beach house? Comrade Chairman?”
Anton leans over to whisper, “I haven’t built it yet—your wedding gift.
Congratulations, my nephew. Just play along.”
“Yes, Comrade Chairman. Quite soon. It will be . . . ” He whispers a
quick aside to his uncle “Is it nice?”
“Dah!”
“It will be nice!” Alex shouts to his new bride.
“Very nice,” Anton adds, cherishing the opportunity to do something
for two of his favorite people, and under such glorious circumstances as
holy matrimony.
“It will be very nice.”
Anna places a hand on Rachel’s arm. “They have done their part. Now
see that you and Alex do yours. Mum’s the word.”
“I’m so very grateful . . . I . . . .” Rachel buries her head in the First
Lady’s shoulder.
“Sometimes the good prevails, Rachel, even in this world.” Anna
strokes her hair, giving Rachel a vigorous hug and peck on the cheek
before releasing her.
“Don’t forget to report any ‘foreign contacts,’ ” Anna jokes, bobbing
an eyebrow up and down in risqué suggestion.
Rachel laughs, blushing.
“You are a good man, Anton. I don’t care what they say about you in
the press,” President Lewis remarks, placing a hand on the Chairman’s
burly shoulder as they turn to get the fishing underway.
Anton steps up to the wheelhouse to rev the engines a few times
himself. He likes to listen to the powerful motors. He then transfers
control to his fishing skipper.
After a further moment to warm the motors and check the gauges, the
mate casts off. They begin a gentle troll towards the cove. The best
fishing lies two miles ahead on the right. The jutting point corresponds to
the bay opposite. A single beacon marks its furthest extension into the
water. Fishing lines are soon out, trolling rigs set for deep water.
Lewis takes a breath and relaxes. To be at peace with God and
nature—just once.
“If Thoreau had built here, he would never have gone back to town.”
“Dah! When I retire, I may not go back to town either, or even to
shore. I have a houseboat in preparation.”
“Excellent!” resounds across the deck in a broken chorus from a half
dozen men.
Anton locks his pole into a rail mount and steps over, clipping and
lighting up his favorite Churchill cigar.
He offers the cigar case down the deck to his other guests. Alex grabs
enough for all the men, distributes and graciously lights them, then returns
to monitor his line.
““There are truly magnificent sturgeon here, Monty. A bony
prehistoric relic, a brute, yes, but it fights like no other fish alive. You
know of it of course. They supply our best caviar.
“The fishing is very good here, Monty, very good. Taimen salmon here
go over 150 pounds! Delicious grilled, as you saw tonight. The sturgeon,
though . . . extraordinary! A class unto themselves. All the world records
now come from the rivers and lakes of Siberia. Lake Baikal’s sturgeon
may exceed 3,000 pounds! A ton and a half, Monty! Super heavy tackle . .
. tomorrow . . . you will see. After Lake Baikal, nothing in Texas will look
big to you again.”
“Amazing,” the U.S. President responds, then wanders the railing
splashing bourbon in everyone’s coffee.
When he comes back, Nekrutenko gathers him under an arm.
“A private word, please, President Lewis. Something personal.
“Monty, listen to me. I must tell you something. Do not be alarmed. I
had a dream, a vision. God is good. It’s about your friend, Walt . . . lost in
the tragedy in Washington. Walt is well with God. In the dream Walt said
he will be with us in spirit, here at the lake.”
“Probably a demonic imposter, Anton. The Church teaches that it is
very rare to know of someone’s status after death. It has occasionally
occurred, as with St. Maria Faustina Kowalska, but contacting the dead is
more the province of the sorcerers of the dark side. Christians must
beware of such things.”
“Yes, my Archbishop explained this. But Monty, the man is a saint.
He has healed people in his local church. The Archbishop checked in
Rome. It is being investigated. His cause has been officially opened.
Another miracle from heaven and it will be Saint Walt.”
“Saint Walt.” Monty leans over the rail staring into the calm waters. “I
always knew it. You will never meet a nicer man. God is good, Anton.”
“It is right to give him thanks and praise.”
Monty makes the rounds again, splashing bourbon. He returns with a
question.
“What did he say? No message?”
“Just a sentimental one, Monty. Nothing prophetic. He said that you
two had been planning an excursion to fish for sturgeon for thirty years;
he wasn’t about to miss it.”
President Lewis laughs, raising his cup.
“To absent friends”
“ABSENT FRIENDS!” is robustly returned from guests and crew.
Next, and fully unexpected, Saint Walt blesses them with a visitation.
Monty smiles. He bows his head and pinches the bridge of his nose to
stifle the tears, as the others offer prayer.
Walt leaves them with the understanding that they are to give thanks to
God for the gift of life and for renewed peace on the earth. He also asks
them a favor, to work tirelessly to fight global warming.
After a suitable moment the Chairman breaks the silence.
“What a blessing! Thanks be to God!” Nekrutenko exclaims.
“Thanks be to God,” the U.S. President echoes.
“Monty, giving due honor to our guest from heaven, we will not risk a
battle with the record breaking sturgeon in the dark, I am an old fool, but
not suicidal. At first light tomorrow, however, we shall have him.
“By the way, Monty I know all about your Walt Books. I looked him
up in KGB files. Your partner in Germany, yes? The uranium threat.”
“Exactly. So, you kept tabs on Walt too? Walt was truly a good man,
Anton. A lot of this, the happy ending, we owe to his work and his
prayers.
“We lost so many good people in the D.C. blast….”
“Yes, I know. A tragedy. And Mrs. Wiles among them. All so very
sad.
“Sergei says Walt dropped off our screen for a time when he left
Germany. He was later seen at Wright-Pat, and then at the Pentagon. That
probably puts him in new technology. We figured he got out of intel, like
you did. Merely chose to do something else. Here in Russia it is not so
easy.
“I’m sorry you lost a friend. Victor, here, says you never really lose
them. God doesn’t allow it. We all meet again.”
Nekrutenko looks over at the Israeli PM who nods his concurrence.
“When you’re right you’re right, as we just found out in amazing
fashion,” Lewis says. “I think it best that I not mention your knowledge of
Walt’s activities to our troops at home, Anton. They would just crank up
the usual spy-counter-spy apparatus and try to pin down who your
operatives were in the area at the time.”
“It is wise, though we do not kill agents outside of court these days,
Monty. Nonetheless, I have given orders to pull anyone involved with
Walt’s files back to Moscow and give them a desk—just in case you two
talk in your sleep. He nods at Yosef.
“But we have arrived! Here is the cove!” The Chairman waves to the
left. “There is deep channel; prime spot for lenok. Watch your reels
closely now.
“By the way, since we have a moment or two before the action starts,
when does Vice President Jackson arrive? He promised a sermon when
peace was restored.”
“Soon. He was delayed. His family is well, but there are many state
funerals, Mr. Chairman, and I am only just beginning to rebuild my
strength.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Josh apologized for the delay, noting that you did your part.
“To make up for it, he is bringing a surprise over when he comes. Ken
Wiles is tagging along. They want to try the riverboat tour, St. Petersburg
to Moscow.”
“May heaven be praised!”
“Ken said you had a closely guarded secret to tell me, Anton?”
At that moment fishing reels begin singing loudly. Even in the 21st
Century the thrill of a nighttime strike has to be experienced to be
appreciated.
“Pick it up Monty! A good one—set the hook!”
The Chairman sets his own hook and the battles begin. What fun.
Minutes later Yosef hooks a record lenok, then Alex.
Much excitement ensues before the night’s catch is safely aboard. For
a blessed few hours no trace of stately behavior is detected in anyone, just
friends helping friends land trophies—very edible trophies. But they will
be preserved on film by the Chairman’s staff photographer, also onboard
for the event.
All are flushed with fun and exercise, ironically, the most at peace
amidst the most intense activity. Had a psychologist hypnotized them at
that moment and, speaking directly to their subconscious asked, “Quick
give your age in two seconds without thinking!” they would all have said,
“Eight,” “Ten,” “Fourteen.”
After the first round and change of location, five more beautiful lenoks
follow. Breakfast is assured. Given such good fortune, they elect to close
early and catch a few hours’ sleep. All are exhausted. But now it is time
for the snacks. This recipe isn’t Misca’s; it’s Anton’s. His special
Kielbasa and horseradish sandwiches.
The skipper wheels the boat around, and they head back to camp.
Everyone has fallen into deck chairs near the bow, exhausted, and are
gazing at starlight reflecting magically in the peaceful lake.
Having given everyone a chance to wash down sausage and bread with
hot coffee or champagne, the Chairman thinks it time to return to Monty’s
unanswered question. He waves Yosef over to make a trio.
“I bit my tongue earlier, Prime Minister Yosef, when you joked about
keeping secrets. All in good fun, of course, but Russia can also keep a
secret.
“President Lewis, Ken Wiles will be taking a surprise back when he
returns home: the director and chief planner of the dirty bomb strikes on
America. He has told us much already. He stayed safely at home in
Munich while the others went to war—a real hero.”
“How in creation did you manage that!?” Yosef exclaims.
“I caught him—just like these fish. A simple matter of using the right
bait. I first let it be known that Russia was interested in providing funds
and safe haven for those who humiliated our quote unquote main enemy.
That would be you, Monty, if you recall the old Cold War jargon. He bit. I
reeled him in.
“My nephew, Sergei here, Chief of Security, was key to the
operation.”
Sergei comes over at the Chairman’s bidding to receive a
congratulatory handshake from President Lewis and Big Dan Yosef. He
returns to the station next to Alex beaming with pride. Alexandrov smiles
broadly and slaps his back.
The Chairman continues with his revelation.
“When we learned of the tragedy in Washington, of the loss of
Katherine and so many others, there was no shortage of volunteers to
help. Sergei was the best trained of them all, however, and so I accepted
his kind offer. He went undercover, taking plenty of muscle and some
brains. The details of that part even you will not know.
“They passed out a lot of money and, how do you put it, spoke the
droppings from a horse. They played along; they waited. When they were
sure they had all the names, when they were certain that no unknowns
were left in the system that might later strike them from behind, they
simply collected them from their beds one at a time all in the same night.
“The anarchists were careless. They should have stayed together in
camps, remained on a military footing, like the jihadists do. Then they
could at least put up a fight at home, cover each other’s back. But, no,
these anarchists too much like the comforts of modern life, the foreign
travel, the luxury hotels, fine dining, independent lifestyle, etc. Ironically,
these are all benefits unique to the capitalist world they were themselves
vowed to destroy. These anarchists won’t try again . . . and they have seen
their last luxury hotel for a long, long time. He gave us the entire
membership list; they’re all going down, Monty. These lunatics would
have been content to sit back and watch our nations completely destroy
each other. For that, they will feel the full ire of the Russian bear before
we are through with them.”
Monty and Big Dan wince with the suggestion that the full hardness of
the Russian military/intel apparatus will be poured out on the terrorists,
but they did ask for it.
“Oh, I didn’t hurt him, much. When Sergei explained our true position,
that they would not be dealing with their friend Boriskiev, but with the
people they had tried to destroy, he panicked. A tour of Stalin’s graveyard
in the basement of old KGB headquarters was sufficient to loosen his
tongue. He talked.
“Among other revelations, he explained that a Shiite splinter cell, fully
unbeknownst to the Iranian President, surreptitiously constructed the
tactical nuclear weapon that was dropped in your vicinity in Israel. Two
rogue pilots agreed to deliver it. It is the same group that assembled the
small, garage-built, makeshift fighter that took a shot at the executive
command post near Andrews. Oh, yes, he knew about that too.
“The Iranians somehow contrived to hang missile racks on a light
plane, reinforced the wings, boosted its power plant, and then gave it to
the anarchists. They took pains not to identify themselves by national
origin. Sergei, however, presented the anarchist commander with a book
of photographs taken of our friends in Iran who do the kind of work you
guys used to do. He found two of them easily enough. Definitely Iranian,
but acting without official sanction—extremists who merely happened to
be close to the government.
“Why they chose such an out of the way location to drop a one of a
kind resource, no one knows. Cold feet? They must have had second
thoughts about lighting up the planet with nuclear war, children and
families at home, something. He doesn’t believe anyone knew the
President was in the bunker at the time, nor the details of the facility.
They saw some sporadic Israeli activity, dumped the weapon so they
could say that they rendered pay back, and, as you say in your western
movies, got the heck out of Dodge.
“Delivering it upon a major city would have obligated an Israeli
response. As it is, it is merely tit for tat for Israel taking out the launchers
in Iran and Syria, nations, which, after all never fired a shot.
“Still, my archbishop here suspects supernatural foul play. It is too
much of a coincidence, the President being nearby.”
The chairman takes a contemplative moment. He looks out across the
bow at his line slowly cutting the water. Everyone else has pulled in for
the night but he indulges the addiction in these rare opportunities.
He turns to Archbishop Spiridonov. “Will it come back, Victor, the
evil?”
“I don’t know, my friend and my Chairman. I only know that it won’t
win.”
EPILOGUE
At
Wiesbaden Medical Center, Germany, General Yosef and
Colonel Shasta (Bishop Bernie) meet the visitors in the lobby in full dress
uniform. The general sports a spectacular display of medals. Bishop
Bernie has a few of his own, now including the Purple Heart.
Spotting the kids they share a knowing look. Yosef reaches into his
coat pocket and retrieves two solid gold medals, small-scale versions of
the Israeli cross. He places them on the information counter.
The visitor group from the United States begins filing in. Bishop
Bernie nods to two of the ladies to come over to the counter, which they
do.
“These are for the little heroes,” Yosef says, holding out the gold
medals.
“Looks like you are being promoted again, son—but this time it’s to
general!”
“Hurray!” comes from Julia. Julia always thought of her older brother
as a hero. But she is a little disappointed. She did her best too.
“You’re being promoted too, pumpkin,” Mom says to Julia. “You are
both heroes.”
Julia’s mouth falls open in wonderment at the beautiful medal.
“Stand up straight and still for a moment.”
General Yosef gently places the presentation ribbons around the
children’s necks as Bishop Bernie snaps to attention as best he can with
the prosthesis. It bears his weight well enough but he hasn’t learned to
trust it fully on side-to-side movements.
This is great, Jonathan thinks again. Man! General, and a medal to
prove it! He can’t wait to play army with his friends when they get home.
The two officers pump the little hands back and forth, then everyone in
the lobby slaps their backs. Julia smiles, copying her brother’s behavior,
and then, embarrassed, runs to her proud mother.
Mom picks her up and the group starts down the corridor to find Joe
and Clayton’s hospital room.
As sunbeams burst through the skylight, the hospital lobby is
showered in a glorious cascade of sparkles from the evanescent
Breminger evening gowns. Busy doctors and nurses stop to follow the two
ephemeral works of art down the hall, one glowing soft yellows and
greens, the other orange and yellow pastels. The two elegant creations,
both ably worn, glide effortlessly out of sight.
“Wow!” the attending nurse, Juma, remarks to the emergency room
physician, whose father happens to be a wealthy industrialist. Juma is a
darkly beautiful first generation Iraqi immigrant.
“Those dresses are from Breminger or I’ll kiss your anesthetic.”
“Magnificent! After your outstanding work in there patching up those
guys, maybe, just maybe, I’ll talk Dad into rewarding you with one. He
and Breminger are just like that, you know,” he says, twisting his fingers
behind his back and stretching the truth.
It won’t hurt to ask. Breminger’s a vet; maybe he appreciates military
doctors and nurses enough to bump us up the waiting list.
“Oh?” she says, looking up at the surgeon with both fondness and
skepticism while playfully taking his arm. They have been dating long
enough, three years now.
It has been a few months since she decided to nudge Dr. Roberts in a
more serious direction. She doesn’t know it, but he immediately went
shopping after her first hint. His courage did not keep pace with his
intuition, however. Roberts has been “looking for just the right moment.”
But now, with nuclear terrorism going on, our world could come to an
end any day . . . to heck with waiting. This has to be done!
He looks down into Juma’s eyes. His own have lost all trace of
tentativeness.
“Maybe Breminger will bump us up the list if he know it’s an
engagement present!”
“Oh!”
Reaching deep into the pocket of his lab coat, he flashes a magnificent
diamond and ruby engagement ring.
“Ooooh!” She collapses against him, looking up with gentle
expectation.
“Juma, will you marry me?” comes out a bit loud in his nervous
struggle to overcome his fear of both a lifetime commitment and possible
rejection.
“Yes!”
Roberts gets a lip-locker kiss and a pinched cheek.
“I love you, doctor.”
“And I love you.”
A small crowd of co-workers and visitors in the lobby who overheard
and noticed the gorgeous ring break out in spontaneous applause.
***
“Dad!”
Jon and Julia have run slightly ahead after being told the room
number. Seeing all the medical equipment, Jon stands back respectfully
waiting for instructions, but Julia walks straight over to the hospital bed to
hug the cast on Joe’s right leg. She wiggles the big toe, the only thing
visible.
“Dad,” she repeats to herself, collapsing against the bed in complete
serenity. She glances across to share her joy with brother and he points a
finger suggestively at his medal. Then she remembers. Proud, but too shy
to say anything, Julia coyly holds the radiant (and quite valuable) half-
scale Israeli Cross up for Joe to see.
“That is so beautiful! May I see it,” he asks, moving his head a little in
her direction. “You must have done something really important to earn
this.”
“She did,” The bishop confirms, easing through the door. “St. Mary
told me. St. Mary is her patron because of her middle name, Marie.”
He makes the sign of the cross over Julia. “Her prayers and those of
her brother were especially important to saving her Dad, and, according to
Garfield and the ladies here she had to wrestle a terrorist too!
“Jonathan saved her, then her struggle at the last minute saved
Garfield from being killed.”
“Exactly right,” comes from a large shape in the doorway. Garfield
had to pay his own way across the ocean, but it was worth it. He has a
hefty advance payment from his publisher for the book he has begun
writing, an ‘I was there’ motif giving a true account of the terrorist strike
on Disneyland. After travel costs, he has enough left for a small sightseeing vacation in Europe. Father Bernie’s tagging along, and they’ll do a
little bird watching as they go.
Having just managed to walk through the door, he eases down into the
wheelchair that has accompanied him. His enormous strength will come
back soon. For now he must approach rehab with patience. No
complaints. By rights he should be dead, and he knows it. God is good.
“Exactly right. She came through in a tough spot. Fought like a little
lioness.”
Julia’s patron saint smiles upon her. She glows in the warmth of the
blessing. Julia is very proud of St. Mary’s patronage. She is also excited
to be recognized as part of the team of good guys along with all the big
people.
Another beautiful girl arrives, this one to visit Clayton: tall with
flowing chestnut hair, all awash in color and sparkles. Then a shorter
beauty with auburn hair steps in, accompanied by her brother David.
“Hi Jeanette. Look at my medal!” Julia and Jeanette are so close that
Julia forgets to be shy with her.
“Isn’t that beautiful! This is real gold, Julia. It is worth a lot of
money.”
Jeanette continues to marvel at the Israeli Cross until she notices
Doctor Roberts peaking in to check on his patients.
“She smokes cigars, doctor” Jeanette points to her mother, her voice
dripping with accusation.
Still in a playful mood, celebrating his engagement, Dr. Roberts
scrapes one index finger across the other towards Margaret.
“Shame on you.”
“Only on special occasions . . . and this certainly is one.”
Adorably mimicking little Julia, Margaret hurries over to hug the cast
in the next bed. She bows her head momentarily towards the floor to
gather sufficient courage to survey the damage to her husband.
Then the gentle and demure face of the young girl Clayton first fell in
love with in 7th grade slowly raises her eyes to risk a painful look. The
preparations do little good.
“Oh, Clay!” Margaret weeps quietly, burying her head into the pit of
Clayton’s arm and trying to stop her body’s shaking with the sobs. “I
would’ve thought you’d done enough.”
“Call of duty, Maggie.”
Clayton’s strong hand tousles Margaret’s hair and strokes her cheek.
He gives her time to release the emotions that have been building and held
back since the crisis began.
David and Jeanette ostentatiously admire the children’s medals, giving
Mom and Dad a moment of intimacy.
Jonathan and Julia aren’t the only ones receiving medals. David and
the others have been notified; they will be receiving a Presidential Medal
of Freedom for their heroism in the battle at Disneyland.
Jonathan stands proudly, displaying the solid gold Israeli Cross,
smiling abstractly, not quite believing it has all been real. He’s not alone
in his failure to comprehend.
Elizabeth rubs his shoulders.
“Too much happening too fast, wasn’t it Jon.”
“It was,” Jonathan agrees. “but, Garfield, we did it!”
“Yes, Jon, we did. Well, actually God did the big stuff, and St. Mary,
stopping World War III—but we did our part to stop the terrorists.”
“We did our part,” the new general repeats, nodding.
Jonathan strides over to carefully shake his dad’s outstretched hand,
both arms still confined by slings.
“Job well done, son,” Joe says. “I am very proud of you both—very
proud.” Dad shakes Julia’s hand as best he can. “Job well done, my
daughter.
“I’m proud of you too Garfield. Bishop Bernie filled me in on the
phone. I guess I owe you a big debt of thanks. Thanks for watching over
them, and at no small cost to yourself.”
“That’s OK, Joe. Glad to do it. You have a couple of great kids there.”
“Yeah.” Joe can’t take his eyes off his cherished children, recalling the
doubtful future he had to contemplate in the terrorist tent. A few tears slip
out.
“Does it hurt a lot Dad?” Jonathan asks, mistaking Joe’s tears of joy
for pain.
Julia, who has been picked up by her mother, quickly turns for the
answer—the same question her heart has been secretly aching to ask since
they arrived.
“Not one little bit. Not anymore.”
“Good!” comes back from everyone, Dr. Roberts included.
“How about you, Dad?” David asks Clayton.
“Yes, the first couple of days it hurt—a lot, the first week really. But it
is just a matter of healing now,” he says, not quite telling the truth.
“Give Dad a kiss, pumpkin, to make him feel better,” Mom suggests,
leaning her down close to Joe. Instead, Julia reaches over to gently touch
one of her dad’s tears with her little finger.
“Tears of joy, the joy of coming home. It’s OK to cry about the really
good important stuff.”
Julia nods agreement, then gives Joe a little peck on the forehead.
Jonathan and Julia stare back at their Dad, now with tears of their
own—tears of happy disbelief. He’s really OK!
Brother and sister shake their heads at each other and smile. They have
shared a secret painful beyond an adult’s range of experience. Julia lets
another tear slip, but Jon prefers to be a tough guy in the daytime,
especially when Dad is around.
After a few moments, Jon thinks better of it and decides that’s long
enough to be a tough guy for today.
“I knew you’d come back!” he says throwing his arms up to hug his
father and crying openly. He snuggles his still downy head under Joe’s
chin.
Julia struggles to be let down, reaching out, and is let down to snuggle
in at Joe’s opposite side.
Margaret stands, motioning to David and Jeanette. They come over to
visit Clayton. Bending down, they gently hug dad, each resting a hand on
one of his shoulders as they talk.
“Home at last!” Joe smiles over his children.
Thank God for these precious gifts.
Elizabeth allows herself an honest moment of release and gratitude.
She cries. She doesn’t want to teach the children to be ashamed of their
feelings, but to rejoice in them.
Bishop Bernie and General Yosef offer a quiet standing prayer.
“God is good.”
“It is right to give him thanks and praise.”
***
[Two years later]
“Come on kids, it’s time for us to go home,” Joe instructs. “Two years
at Disneyland is enough. I need a vacation. The air and water are clear
again in Indiana. Bishop Bernie says we can all go fishing at Father
Herman’s cabin in Michigan. He may never come back from Lake Baikal.
He’s doing R & R with medical rehab at some private hospital. They let
him go out for boat tours and a little fishing. He claims its doing him a
world of good.”
“Hurray for Father Herman!” comes from Pam, Hugh at her side with
their suitcases.
“Just one more try with the apple, please Dad?” Jonathan pleads.
“Boss is just starting to make friends with us.”
“OK, son, but hurry over to the car when you’re done. There goes
Clayton now; he is already starting down the driveway.”
“Here Boss . . . here Boss . . . a nice fresh chopped apple and two
lumps of sugar,” Jonathan, now a tall ten, says, directing his words at a
magnificent black Arabian stallion gently nuzzling the golden Palomino
mare across the corral.
Boss has been home a week now. Mike’s search for John up in
Wisconsin turned up nothing. John had liked Canada so much he decided
to stay. Last week he finally called Claire’s phone number in California,
as Mike had asked him to do when everything was settled down.
Considering that Boss was starting to get old and that their deal to
collaborate earlier to manage the emergency was a fair one, John let him
go at a reasonable price.
Boss has not yet made friends with the kids. He is still getting
reacquainted with Nina.
Now giving in to the children’s prodding and the smell of fresh apples
in the air, both horses turn and trot over together.
Nina is glad to introduce them to Boss, but she expects fair wages.
Boss can be a little selfish at times, which he immediately proves, quickly
gobbling the apple.
Good kid, Boss thinks.
Nina knows Boss has first rights as the dominant male in the corral,
but she is still a little disappointed.
“Another apple, Mike,” Jonathan requests. He splits the sugar between
the two horses, letting Nina take a cube while she waits.
‘Apple,’ Sis notes.
Mike delivers some apple pieces to Julia who has wandered further
down the railing.
“Here, Sis! Apple.”
Nina trots down to Julia for her apple while Jon holds out another
sugar cube he has retrieved from his pocket to distract the stallion.
The kids have noticed a big change in Nina.
“Nina is happy now that Boss is home,” Julia observes.
“I think so too,” Jon agrees rubbing the stallion’s nose. “Aren’t you
Sis?” he calls down the fence line to Nina.
“Boss is home,” Julia whispers into Nina’s ear. They nuzzle to
celebrate this intimate secret among close friends. There has been a big
change in Julia too. She is now a strong and beautiful young lady of eight.
Boss. Home. Nina leans in close and gives Julia one of those doe-eyed
looks that make humans question whether they are in fact the most
sentient creatures on the planet. She loves Julia. They just have a natural
affinity for each other.
Julia nuzzles Nina’s cheek and rubs her neck.
Then boss has a thought to gallop off to the pasture gate, hoping Mike
will open it, which he does. Nina turns to follow.
“Goodbye Nina,” Julia says with a tear. “Goodbye Boss.”
“Let’s go home Julia and find our friends,” Jon insists. “Mike and
Claire said we are welcome to come back anytime. They will always have
passes to Disneyland.”
“Hurray!” is loudly returned, not from Julia, however, but from Bishop
Bernie and Garfield. They have enjoyed Southern California as much as
the children.
As they turn from the corral toward the drive Garfield leans over to
whisper in Bishop Bernie’s ear. “I don’t feel any demonic burden today,
Bishop.”
“I don’t either, Garfield. We must be in a denouement of some kind.
The problem has been steadily fading since the Russian archbishop’s
confrontation with the demonic manifestation in Russia two years ago at
the peak of the international crisis. Father Herman is consulting with
Bishop Spiridonov about what to expect next.”
“My vote goes for nothing to happen next. I think that was all quite
enough.”
“Right. Well, let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth. Let’s get out and
enjoy the freedom while it lasts, do something fun—some serious birding.
I am officially retired. I have the flexibility to travel and with my research
program stipend, and your disability health insurance, we could manage a
big year to challenge the North American record.”
The bishop pulls out some new binoculars. “Shall we go kick some
bird butt, Garfield? Run up Highway 1 on the coast, and then bird San
Francisco. We can check several wildlife refuges, including the little
Audubon sanctuary in Sacramento as we turn back east for Indiana? I’ve
got your expenses covered. Just chip in a bit on the food where you can.”
“Let’s!”
Joe honks the horn and shouts up the lane. “Come on kids; let’s go
home!”
Boss and Nina trot down the pasture fence line, neighing loudly.
“Goodbye Boss, goodbye Nina,” comes out of the van window with
waving hands.
Jonathan, Boss thinks. Good kid.
Nina looks thoughtfully down the lane at the car pulling away. Julia,
she thinks. Julia is one of the good words.
Mike and Claire have come out to feed the horses. The smell of good
oats comes down the pasture on the wind. Mike and Claire have decided
to make another go of it.
Boss and Nina gallop up towards the feed troughs. Mike and Claire
are good words, and oats.
***
[Three centuries later. Cardinal Bernie, having received an odd mutation
from the experimental vaccines has gone on living, and living, and living,
as have a handful of others, including Joe and Clayton.]
An odd light enters through the cathedral doors.
The old Cardinal stumbles in, tears streaming down his face. He is
immersed in an altered state of spiritual joy.
Someone cries out loudly to those few routinely assembling for Mass
as if everything were normal: “Have you not heard the trumpet?”
Garfield has received the same odd mutation; he’s alive too. He
received his from a blood transfusion following a nasty motorcycle crash.
Cardinal Bernie, who has the same blood type, was the first to donate
blood.
Garfield, Joe, and Clayton now sit reverently in the back row, never
more alert at any time in their long eventful lives. They acknowledge
Cardinal Bernie’s entrance with a nod, then immediately fall back into
prayer.
“They’ll be there,” Clayton assures the others about their departed
friends and family. “God is good.”
Falling prostrate Cardinal Bernie presses his face against the floor as
the faithful have traditionally done through the ages in the presence of
God (Ezekiel 43:3; Sirach 50:17-21 NABRE). He remains lying at the
entrance by the fount of Holy water, demonstrably pressing his palms and
forehead to the floor . . . just humility, nothing else. He is drowning in
reverence and awe of the divine.
He is a little ahead of the group, but now the Holy Spirit powerfully
washes over all those present. Signs of the Cross pass like a wave through
the congregation, followed by what appears to be a military salute, but is
really a shielding of the eyes. The faithful have instinctively raised their
arms to shield their eyes against the close proximity of God. This occurs
not as an avoidance of intense light, but from an intense awareness of the
guilt of past sins. This guilt awareness will pass with the glorification of
final judgment and the resurrection. Then those in heaven will be pure
enough to see the face of God.
Old couples rush out into the aisles to prostrate themselves. They
move as far back as possible and quickly press themselves to the floor. In
a moment all have followed their example.
Now . . . now: no one moves, nor does time. In this moment of nontime two columns will form, one in the streets outside, the other far above
in the heavens.
Families have been called to Church . . . as families. They first assume
this a call of the Holy Spirit restricted to selected individuals, perhaps a
few more charisms for these troubled times. As the lines approach from
all directions, however, estimates are revised upwards. The lines merge
and grow larger. It soon becomes clear that something quite extraordinary
has occurred. Then a gasp goes up from the crowd: “The sky!”
The sky fills with a spectacular three-dimensional epiphany. A moving
recapitulation of the history of God’s people is displayed in the air above.
All fall to their knees while holding an upward gaze. Inside the cathedral
the epiphany is as clear as outside.
The Holy Spirit directly imparts understanding of each scene. All
below becomes crying and singing. No one will enter Church today
without knowing with a certainty that God loves his people Israel.
A column of glorious marchers from heaven converge on the church.
As humble sinners of Earth enter by the cathedral door, angels and saints
press through the rear walls and approach the alter through the vestry.
Their presence is felt inside. A young saint, a girl sitting in the back,
moves into the aisle as Cardinal Bernie rises from prayer. I must move
further back. An invitation would be required to go forward. The intense
reverence of her gaze captures and freezes all in its path. That intensity
has long been reserved to pose this single question. “Your Eminence?”
Awe and compassion fill the Cardinal’s face, causing her to fall to her
knees. She kisses the ring. “Did you see? The glorious epiphany? Can it
be true? Is Christ coming to save us?” She remains kneeling, focused on
the ring.
The odd light inside the cathedral continues to increase though the
doors have closed. It is a good light. It adds clarity. That clarity seems to
penetrate and dissolve the walls of the Church.
Cardinal Bernie reaches to lift her up. “If it is so, my child . . . if Our
Lord has passed the Gates, we will know soon enough. As the lightning
flashes from east to west . . . ”
Again, and again the Spirit washes over them. All collapse to the floor,
crying, crying for the last time.
An old Hebrew quietly enters the Church from the rear, bows to the
tabernacle with the consecrated Host, and takes the last seat in the last
pew. Cardinal Bernie comes over to sit next to him—it is his old friend,
Major Weizman. He has continued to live too, though no one knows why.
In the next moment Moshe has slumped to the side, quite dead of old
age.
Then it happens: Love descends. Babes grasp their mother’s necks in
the fullness of joy. All has been made right. All is right. Small fists rise
into the air in triumph. God! Friendship! Family! The little hands wave
(there are no strangers now) . . . and everyone waves back.
Inside the Church time is lost forever. The doors open. Glory and
angels enter. A troop of holy angels marches through . . . a flood of hymns
. . . the processional moves to the altar to begin the Mass. But if angels are
leading the procession, who follows!?
Yes, heaven and earth have magnificently met on this day—but yet
predictably, for haven’t they ever done so on Sunday. (CCC 1137-1139,
1153) No man knows the day or the hour . . . but the place? Hasn’t the
place always been known? After all, we were told that God meets us at
the altar as far back as Exodus 29.
And now, finally, it has happened. heaven and earth are full of His
Glory!
The blessed holiness of God’s High Mass, ever sought by his devout
children on earth, descends. God Most High, descends upon his Church,
descends to embrace his little ones forever. Nothing will be the same . . . .
And now all are lifted, and in an instant transformed. A blaze of purifying
fire . . . a burst of joyous light . . . and . . . Our Father!
Cardinal Bernie waits for permission to look up. Where are the walls?
But this is not St. Mary’s in Lafayette! This is the One Church. All God’s
children and all his churches are present, all assembled to pay tribute to
Christ. Oh! Happy Day!
Glancing over at Moshe, Cardinal Bernie sees, instead, a radiant
glorified figure, the resurrected prophet Elijah deep in prayer, raised to
new life in Christ. Extending his gaze around the “Church,” the Cardinal
sees that all are similarly radiant. Each glorified person has some
interesting and beautiful aspect unique to themselves.
The vista of a glorified Israel in the Promised Land flows out in all
directions. Little hands continue to wave. They knew it! This is what life
should be!
The Guardian Angels smile at the innocence of the children. Welcome
home little ones. All will share that innocence again now. Families are
rejoined with departed loved ones. The assembly is complete.
The apostles of Christ approach the heavenly alter where Jesus has
now taken his central place. The elders bowed down before the throne,
and the angels and assembled host cried “Amen!”
—The End
* NOTE: Additional Christian writings by this author can be found at Rick’s
home page located at http://matthew1026.com.
THEOLOGICAL AFTERWORD
The basic premise of this novel is grounded in scripture. The details
are obviously fictional. In accordance with common sense and Catholic
teachings I assume that, although prophetic scripture is in large part
mysterious, once the events of prophecy actually come to pass, we who
are living them will gain substantial clarity concerning their meaning. I
refer the reader to the “Theological Commentary” by Joseph Cardinal
Ratzinger (later Pope Benedict XVI) in The Message of Fatima, a Vatican
document published in June 2000.48 This commentary clarifies a great deal
concerning prophecy and its interpretation.
Father Gabrielle Amorth (author of An Exorcist Tells His Story) and
Cardinal Leon Joseph Suenens (author of Renewal and the Powers of
Darkness) have given us the most direct guidance the Church has
provided on the subject of spiritual warfare by the laity. They are in
complete agreement that laypersons at no time should ever attempt to
command, to bind or to otherwise confront a demon.
As far as the lay man or lay woman is concerned, other than their
praying to get rid of the demonic spirits and to heal afflicted persons,
demons should be ignored completely. Demons reside in a dark kingdom
we wish to establish no connection with whatsoever.
Despite the previous distribution of what has been called the Leo XIII
exorcism procedure to charismatic groups where it was occasionally used
improperly by the laity, exorcisms are currently reserved by Church
policy to the bishop and his delegates, priests specifically designated to be
exorcists. Lay members of the Church are not authorized to do exorcisms.
The Leo XIII exorcism, once one has the document in his or her hands, is
an easy document to misunderstand. Although it was intended for use by
priest-exorcists exclusively when recited as an exorcism, and it contains
prayers that lay persons may use as prayers—big difference. Lay
persons may not perform an exorcism by use of any instrument including
the Leo XIII exorcism procedure.
Having said that, the prayers that were intended for the use of lay
persons are beautiful and powerful. The tricky part is that those prayers
are more or less seamlessly mixed in with the formal exorcism commands
and adjurations that only priest-exorcists and bishops may execute.
The only safe thing to do is to carefully edit the Leo XIII exorcism
prayers to remove any adjurations and commands to demons. When
approached in that way, the prayers themselves. once removed from the
exorcism procedure as such, are excellent for use by lay persons for
delivering themselves, their family, friends, and communities from evil
demonic influences.
The Our Father (the Lord’s Prayer) of course will accomplish the same
thing, but the prayers from the Leo XIII exorcism, are powerful and
already composed for the specific purpose of deliverance by a pope who
was clearly intended to play a central role in these great events. When
using these prayers be careful to check each word so that any command
type wording directed to demons is reworded as a request to God to
remove the demonic spirits. Never give the demons your attention or
address them in any way.
Our focus in prayer groups and healing ministries should remain
exclusively on the person to be healed or delivered, and more importantly,
on God. Prayers of healing will be successful when offered with love and
faith. The Gospels tell us Christians will drive out demons, but as Farther
Amorth instructed me in a note he was kind enough to send from Rome,
this is done by love-centered prayers for deliverance, not by exorcism.
There is a great need at the moment for these prayers, so I urge everyone
to offer prayers of deliverance regularly for those they know, and for the
larger worldwide Church as well as the community presently outside the
Church. Those outside the Church may need help even more urgently.
They are intended by God to be joined to the Church at the earliest time in
any case, so we should also pray they find a path home to the God’s
Church.
We have to face it. It is time. It is time to wake up and smell the
coffee, or perhaps the charcoal fire and fresh fish broiling on the shore by
the Sea of Galilee. As Malachi 3, Micah 4, Obadiah and, especially
Zechariah 10 and 12 indicate, God will be acting powerfully through his
people to defeat evil in these last days. It is time to step up and be
counted. One may be moved by the Holy Spirit to do truly great things.
What are the limits of such gifts? None, in the sense that they are limited
by the grace of God and the extent of one’s personal faith alone.
We know there have been valid charisms, but we don’t know their
theoretical limits, or what form God may elect for them to take at special
times in salvation history. While we should not deny God’s gifts, the devil
does impersonate them. For that reason, spiritual charisms must be
validated by the official authorities of the Church.
We must therefore present apparent charisms and dramatic spiritual
gifts to the Church for evaluation. The devil is supernaturally powerful.
Without the bishop’s intervention to protect us, Satan can always fool us.
Caution is called for, but we can be certain of this much, however. We
must answer the call of the Remnant! All hands on deck!
The standard approach to answering that call is via humble prayer
ministry centered in love and strengthened by regular receipt of the
Sacraments and attendance at Mass, not by use of dramatic charisms.
Such charisms are possible, but very rare.
What my characters on occasion do in the novel, that is strike the
demons with the sword of Christ, or sword of the Spirit, is not advised.
This is not a routine option available to Christians. It is to be viewed as
either a theological error on their part (Father Bernie corrects them, telling
them never to address a demon in any way) or as a charismatic action
taken “in the Spirit” under Zechariah 12, employed only when called by
the Spirit or for the briefest instant for those times when the devil simply
won’t take no for an answer. In the novel they were overcome by events
and didn’t have a chance to ask the Church to validate those kinds of
spiritual acts as a genuine charism, but, given Fr. Bernie’s admonitions,
the characters were obligated to consider those actions invalid until the
Church judged them otherwise. It could merely have been a case of the
devil trying to sucker them into a supernatural fistfight they had no chance
to win. Don’t fall for that bully’s trick yourself, put the bullys in the hands
of God via prayer--ignore the demons completely. In other words, it
basically makes a good story, but don’t try this at home, as the old joke
goes.
Prayer is our primary weapon against demonic forces, and centering
ourselves in the power and presence of Christ within us for our defense.
This is done by staying centered in love, which is the Spirit of God. Christ
resides within all Christians, and more so to the extent that we are
Christian love-centered people. As Fr. Thomas recently reminded me
when I mentioned the devil was beating me up regularly, affirm Christ
and the demons can’t hurt you.
We do have the power of Christ within us, but it is important to
distinguish between power and authority. We don’t have the authority of
Christ. That resides only with the bishops and those they delegate the
authority to, such as the priest-exorcists they appoint.
A simple rule of thumb is to never give the devil or a demon your
attention for any reason. It is exceedingly dangerous. They don’t deserve
it in any case.
I encourage the reader to suggest to the United States Conference of
Catholic Bishops or the equivalent body in other nations that they provide
more detailed guidance on deliverance ministry and more exorcists! A
solid move in this direction was taken circa 2004 when the Vatican
directed all dioceses to appoint an exorcist. (See Matt Baglio’s new book,
The Rite.)
Perhaps the remaining task now is for the entire Church, especially the
laity, to get the word out that the exorcists are available. Of course,
practicing our faith on a daily basis, especially receipt of the Holy
Sacraments of Reconciliation (confession) and the Eucharist, is necessary
before even an exorcism will be effective for long. Once we are properly
invested in the Sacraments, prayer and fasting will also bring deliverance
even without an exorcism (for those with the patience and faith to trust in
God while that deliverance progresses incrementally). An instant
exorcism is a rare exception in any case, in fact there may be no such
thing. Usually months of prayer and fasting are required (sometimes
longer).
However, having the “big gun” of the exorcist present during the
process can be most reassuring. If the afflicted person is dramatically or
dangerously affected, however, one should contact a priest immediately
and follow their guidance.
APPENDIX 1
Theological Discussions with Fr. Bernie
Note: the following sections of dialogue were edited out of the
novel to speed up the pace of the story but are presented here
for the value their theological content may have for those who
would like to prefer such subjects in greater depth.
The reader should note that some of these discussions involve
purely speculative concepts, for example, about the Satanic
community holding demonically facilitated gatherings in the
spiritual dimension. While it may be true that Satanists actually
do this, it is not an official teaching of the Church, despite the
fact that the fictional character affirming the concept of
spiritual gatherings is a priest. But he is not a real priest. This
appendix is a continuation of the novel, which is a work of
fiction. The theology represented by the characters has not been
officially reviewed and approved by the Catholic Church.
I have tried to keep the core theology as close to the official
teachings of the Church as my limited knowledge allowed, but
readers who require certainty on particular points of theology
should consult a priest, bishop, or degreed Catholic theologian.
My goal is to bring to the public’s attention the larger concepts
of the spiritual battle that are broached in this book; it is not to
do precise academic theology. Where a teaching of the Catholic
Church contradicts something I have said in this book, I bow to
the teaching authority of the Church, and will immediately
make corrections where such conflicts are brought to my
attention.
The non-fiction appendices of this book that follow this one are
theologically safer than the fiction component, as I have tried
hard to research the topics discussed in Church-approved
sources. However, even there, my discussion should not be
taken as official or authoritative. If certitude is required, consult
a priest, the bishop, or a Catholic theologian.
-----------
Father pauses for a moment to think.
“C. S. Lewis’s Space Trilogy is not a bad intro to spiritual battle, put
that on your list: Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous
Strength are the titles. It is called the Ransom trilogy in the index to
Christian literature. Professor Ransom, the central character, leads the
forces of good in an epic struggle against an evil takeover of world
government. A genuine page-turner. Stock up on snacks. You won’t want
to leave the sofa for a few days.
“Lewis, as you probably know, is the author of Chronicles of Narnia.
You may remember the movie with the lovable Christ-like lion. Lewis is
one of the premier Protestant theologians. He has written countless
uplifting books of the faith. The Ransom trilogy is fiction, but it reveals
the underlying spiritual war we are currently embroiled in, and how
government can be ludicrously affected.”
“I remember reading the Ransom trilogy in high school, Joe recalls. I
just considered it science fiction at the time.”
“You are technically correct. It is in the science fiction genre, but
Lewis is one of the premier theologians of all time. The implications for
our current struggle are there, trust me. Pray for discernment—you’ll get
it.
“Let’s take a real-world example, the absurdly slow response to the
evacuees at the New Orleans Convention Center during hurricane Katrina
in 2005. Remember the nursing home residents who drowned waiting for
rescue after they had phoned for help for four days? All the while,
sheriff’s department rescue helicopters from several states stood by,
waiting for permission to go in. Their offer was turned away, presumably
by FEMA or the governor of Louisiana, who knows, but they were never
cleared to go in.
“U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service personnel, familiar with boats and
watery environments, asked FEMA and/or the Dept. of the Interior for
permission to go in and help. They received no response. USFWS finally
went in on their own initiative and rescued some 4,500 people who
presumably would have otherwise died or suffered serious harm.49
“The U.S. Coast Guard, thanks be to God, did its normal superlative
job rescuing people, but they could not be everywhere at once. The Coast
Guard’s performance bordered on the miraculous, and USFWS did a great
job. But they did that despite the bureaucratic obstructionism. The
bureaucratic decision makers got in the way of an optimized application
of the resources available. People died because of it.
“That was a classic example of a government infected with demonic
intrusion. Inhumane idiocy of this kind has all the earmarks of the
demonic. Lewis’s trilogy takes the situation a step further to reveal its
fully insane potential.
“Take my word for it. The devil planned and assembled the Katrina
tragedy one piece at a time, as if he were laying out a jigsaw puzzle. He
then supernaturally blocked and delayed proper response until it was too
late for some.
“Rapid response military units should have been placed on standby the
moment Katrina entered the Gulf with Category 4/5 winds. They should
have been sent in immediately once the winds cleared. A big problem
requires a big solution. It’s common sense.
“However, neither the obvious nor the possible were done in this case.
Nonetheless, the bureaucracy will give you twenty years of congressional
investigations at the taxpayers’ expense and a hundred reams of complex
reports, all of which serve to do nothing more than mask or attempt to
excuse an inexcusable failure. We have Northcom now to perform the
rapid response function, but it could have been there decades earlier.50
“As John Cougar Mellencamp aptly satirizes concerning the similarly
inexplicable Florida election fiasco of 2004 in his recent album Trouble
No More, ‘They all looked pretty guilty, but no one took the blame.’51
“Contrived or exacerbated tragedy is one of the many forms spiritual
warfare takes. Natural disaster unfortunately provides the perfect medium
for the devil to work in. Burying effective response under layers of
complex bureaucracy and then excusing it under the guise of legal
technicality is one of Satan’s favorite tactics.
“Killing our unborn children through abortion is another prime
example of demonic intrusion via socio-political sabotage. The lives of
6,000 innocent children per day are legally being taken, often under
horrible circumstances. This atrocity was made ‘legal’ by the complex but
ultimately unfounded analysis in the 1973 United States Supreme Court
decision in Roe v. Wade. Fifty million (50,000,000) children have since
been killed under legalized abortion. Although Roe’s logic does not hold
up under scrutiny, most citizens will never invest the hours of research
needed to find that out. In the meantime, millions of innocent children
have been killed because we were unable to dig through the complex
smoke screens laid by the devil.
“Most citizens of the United States are probably unaware that the
horror of partial-birth abortion was ever practiced in this country, though
for many years it was up until a recent change in the law. Many of them
would not have stood for it if they had known—that is, if they had known
what partial-birth abortion really is. In partial-birth abortion a fully
formed and frequently viable child, five to seven months old, and
sometimes older, is delivered feet first until only the head remains in the
womb. The baby is given nothing for pain relief. The skull is punctured
with a sharp instrument and a vacuum tube inserted into the skull. The
brain of the child is sucked out while the child is alive, potentially awake
and aware! This is done so that the child’s head can be collapsed, making
its delivery painless for the mother. It is also done to avoid giving the
“unborn” child the full legal protection offered to born children under the
Constitution as interpreted by Roe v. Wade itself.
“Although the grey matter of the brain is insensitive to pain in the
sense of responding to a direct pin prick as does the skin, it is the seat of
consciousness. Deep panic, phantom pains, intense fears and powerful
psychological traumas can be expected to be induced by disconnecting a
living brain from a living body minus the use of an anesthetic, ripping and
tearing it, and forcefully compressing it through a vacuum tube!
“The defenders of partial-birth abortion will make ludicrous claims,
such as that there is no scientific evidence to support concerns for the
suffering of the child who undergoes this procedure. But what evidence
do they consider to have been possible to acquire? The only witness who
would know is dead. The seat of consciousness for the aborted child now
resides in a trash container! There is no possible means to survey the
aborted child’s experience! One need merely imagine undergoing the
same procedure oneself to realize the potential for trauma.
“After all is said and done, partial-birth abortion is the exact
equivalent of barbaric capital punishment; it is the equivalent of a
beheading, and one sanctioned without benefit of trial. It is even worse
because of the compression of the brain tissue in a violent manner. At
least the convict’s brain is left in peace.
“Beyond depriving the unborn child of due process of law prior to
capital punishment, to vacuum the still functioning and aware seat of
individual consciousness from a living human being into a machine to
simply be disposed of as garbage is an unthinkable horror and the ultimate
insult to human dignity. Beyond that, it is simply evil.
“Partial-birth abortion was a heinous crime against the most innocent
among us. It was an obvious attempt to artificially circumvent our own
laws, which state that a born child is a citizen with the right to life by
starting the delivery then stopping it artificially just prior to completion.
Obviously the child is born; the substantially completed delivery cannot
be reversed.
“Partial-birth abortion was a horror unmatched in the history of
civilization; it is practically a throwback to the abominable child sacrifice
cults of Moloch in biblical times.52 It is a tragic blind spot in a very sick
society, a blind spot supernaturally perpetuated by the devil.
“Another, perhaps more subtle, example of a demonically induced
blind spot is the current situation in our science classrooms. Accidental or
atheistic evolution (the neo-Darwinian form) is being taught in our
schools and colleges, but the public has been led to believe that only basic
evolution, descent with modification (a form that does not rule out God
and is compatible with the teachings of the Church) is being taught. The
federal courts have inanely refused to distinguish between the two
versions. They have permitted the philosophies of materialism and
atheism to be taught in science classrooms as if they were science.
“The war between good and evil rages on in the most unlikely spots.
Christians all too often underestimate their opponent. I’ll wager the devil
had his hand in the chemical explosion in Bhopal, India, in the nuclear
disaster in Chernobyl, and in most other major disasters, if only to
exacerbate the suffering after the fact.
“In the Ransom trilogy, C. S. Lewis tried to wake people up to this
problem by prophetically showing us how far satanically induced insanity
can go in government. Ironically, although Ayn Rand was an atheist
leaning agnostic, her classic novel, Atlas Shrugged, gives a startling
depiction of a government and academia overcome by evil influences, the
supernatural source of which Rand apparently did not discern.
Nonetheless, she described the resultant satanic idiocy to absolute
perfection in what is perhaps the most engrossing novel ever written.
“Father Gabriele Amorth’s books on exorcism go more directly to the
nuts and bolts of spiritual war. Dr. Ed Murphy’s Handbook for Spiritual
Warfare is a good one too, although he is not Catholic. Let me write those
down for you. If you can’t find them downtown, I’ll loan you a copy from
the rectory.”
After completing the note, Father produces a leaflet explaining how to
pray the Rosary.
“Start learning it. The Rosary is a series of short familiar prayers, said
in a certain order, while meditating upon the mysteries of Christ’s life.
The Rosary is a very powerful way to pray. In addition to being a
devotion to Christ our Lord, God the Father, and the Holy Spirit, the
Rosary is a devotion to blessed St. Mary. St. Mary is not reverenced on
the same level as God, of course, but rather honored as the Lord’s human
mother. ‘Honor thy father and thy mother.’ It is only right that the Lord
keeps the ten commandments.
“St. Mary’s intercession on our behalf is quite naturally powerful and
efficacious. She will protect you if you call upon her for help.
“We’ll put you in RCIA, that’s our adult instruction program, in the
fall, and you can join the Church next Easter—assuming you’re
interested?”
“Oh, I’m interested,” Joe confirms, holding out a trembling cup for
more coffee.
Pam steadies his wrist as she pours. “You take care of him, Father,”
Pam pleads. She has known Joe since first grade. She also knows the
harried look of heavy demonic attack. Three weeks ago, she was herself
sitting in the same booth across from Father Bernie receiving the same
instruction.
“You know I will, Pam. Do you have any day-old Danish back there
by chance?”
“I know, don’t tell me . . . it makes you hungry. Just let me go and
check.” Pam smiles mischievously and disappears into the kitchen to
check for Father’s pastries.
“Pick up a Catechism of the Catholic Church, you’ll need that too—
nine bucks. It answers many important questions. Most bookstores have
it, or can order one for you. The best nine bucks you’ll ever spend; or
simply read it at the library or reference the electronic copy on the
Internet.”
The pancakes disappear, the eggs, then the meat.
“God Bless you, Father—for being there,” comes from Joe.
“It’s what I do, but you’re welcome.”
They step outside to admire the pleasant garden setting and Spanish
décor of Axton’s second story veranda. Father walks over to the edge of
the balcony, contemplating the clear night sky.
“There’s a war on out there, Joe, and you can’t even see it. Our
children are overrun by demons in their sleep, and all the adults have time
to do is hurry along after another dollar. They drop their little sons and
daughters at kindergarten without so much as ‘Did you sleep well last
night?’
“Children do have significant protection from their guardian angels,
but the little tikes can be scared to death from the devil’s intrusions into
their sleep and dreams. They will remain scared until their parents either
affirm faith in Christ on their behalf or they can achieve an age sufficient
to learn faith in God for their protection. Not knowing of God’s love and
protection, children may feel they have no choice but to make an alliance
of some kind with the devil—just to survive. It’s a horror story, .in truth,
an enormous, invisible, heartbreaking nightmare!
“This is the final battle, Joe. We have to stand up and do something!
“Consider this. Sometime around the turn of the previous century,
Pope Leo XIII had a vision. He saw Christ and the devil in conversation.
This was just prior to World War I, an episode described at the Catholic
Prophecy web site, http://www.catholicprophecy.info/. Offering an
arrogant challenge, the devil had the audacity to ask Christ himself for
additional power over those who would consent to serve evil, and
additional time, in order to pose a powerful assault on the Lord’s own
Church. Satan bragged that, with only this much assistance, he could
destroy God’s Church. Accepting the challenge, Christ granted him the
additional power and time. Garfield and I have been studying this
possibility in connection with recent and historical events. We feel that
the day of that final assault has arrived! The devil has begun calling in his
people, just like in the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie, End of Days.
“The evil ones, the Satanists, have done the equivalent of writing the
devil a blank check, signing up to serve him in general terms. Christ has
apparently agreed to permit the devil to call in those checks for the
purpose of the final assault. Like a parent teaching a wayward child not to
smoke, in effect, God is doing the same thing: he is making the Satanists
smoke the full cigar, no getting away with a few quick puffs of rebellion.
They can get to know pure evil up close and personal so they will
understand the full implications of what they have done.
“Satanists can regain their autonomy in the ordinary way, by appealing
to Christ to save them53—assuming they repent in their heart and
renounce evil. Until they do, those who previously agreed to serve the
devil in return for some evil gain, perhaps not knowing what it entailed,
are now learning what is involved the hard way. Many have become
partially or fully possessed—a puppet-master scenario right off the big
screen. When the devil needs something from a Satanist in a given
situation now, he simply steps in and takes it.
“Unchecked by prayer or the intervention of God, even subtle
behaviors, when coordinated among thousands of people acting in
concert, can be a devastating weapon against the innocent. Good people
can be set up for sabotage in practically an infinite variety of ways, yet no
one can be held legally accountable.
“The heart of the satanic campaign is a nibbling away at a person’s
positive self-image, optimism and faith. Like a swarm of mosquitoes, the
undetected satanic masses inject bits of negativity here and there and
everywhere around us all day every day, waiting for just the right moment
when our faith and optimism falters. At the moment when the contrived
stress is at its peak, demons swarm in to gain control or to cause a direct
injury to person they have targeted. Satanists inevitably hit us at a weak
moment—cheap shots. There is no honor to be found among the entire lot
of them.
“Whole wars have been started using satanic coordination. Practically
any situation you can imagine can be orchestrated through the combined
effect of the supernatural ability of demons and the demonically coerced
or voluntary complicity of millions upon millions of people who either
actively serve the devil or have insufficient faith in God to insulate them
from powerful supernatural influences. The devil can even use Christians
as chessmen in this evil game, if we don’t’ guard against it.”
“Millions of people are playing into the devil’s hands? It can’t be that
bad.”
“I fear so. There aren’t that many of us, people of faith who are
sufficiently awake and aware of the threat and committed to fight back.
How many remain in the undecided middle is unclear.
“We are not defenseless, or course. Pope Leo XIII said God has
promised greater gifts to us so that we can counteract the evil threat. This
is done primarily by leading good Christian lives in the old-fashioned
sense, receiving the Holy Sacraments, and praying for deliverance. If we
do that, the Holy Spirit will imbue us powerfully as God pours out his
Spirit on his people in these last days per Joel chapter four. Intransigent
evil around us will simply be burned up in tongues of holy fire. ‘Jacob
shall be a fire’ as the scripture says.
“The full and ugly truth of the matter is that many of the Satanists
attend invisible gatherings in the spiritual dimension made possible by
connections with demons. Very few of them participate in black masses
held openly in the physical world; it’s all done invisibly in the spiritual
dimension. Having a heavy demonic connection (affliction really) is like
putting on a virtual reality headset. Much as the saints have been taken to
heaven, hell, and purgatory and reported on their visits,54 Satanists
actually gather and hold rituals in the spiritual dimension. There is a sort
of virtual reality community the Satanists participate in, but the
impression that it has genuine reality and consistency is an illusion. They
are simply being deceived at a level of complexity human beings cannot
see past without divine assistance. The other persons they believe are
present are frequently not even there; they spiritual presence is artificially
created by the demons and there is no way for humans to get past the
deception.
“This corresponds to Revelation chapters sixteen and seventeen, a
virtual reality international ‘city,’ ‘Babylon,’ the great ‘harlot’ that sits on
many waters. In the dark spiritual dimension, which is actually just an
extension of the demons’ foul selves, the devil and his fallen angels offer
lurid fantasies and experiences a person might not otherwise expect to
obtain in this world, complete with acute, though hallucinatory, visual,
auditory and tactile sensations. Like in the Arnold Schwarzenegger
movie, Total Recall, many people are willing to pay to escape dull
everyday life, having no patience to wait for the Lord’s perfect world that
is coming, and not long now.
“Perhaps I should say they think they are attending invisible gatherings
in the spirit. Satanic VR is ripe with dangerous deceptions—who knows
how much is true and how much a deception. Inexplicably, many have
chosen to live in this false reality. Certainly, being so closely connected to
demons for extended periods of time poisons the soul, mind, and body.
The risk of total insanity is heavy, if not inevitable. Yet people appear to
be heavily addicted to it, some possibly even from childhood.
“The bottom line is that there is an entire well-established, although
secret, satanic culture out there. Tragically, it is a very sick, evil, addicted,
and dangerous culture. Beyond the millions who are fully satanic, many
more are occasionally pulled into the experience and will trade things to
the devil for the privilege, or they trade him evil deeds in exchange for
some dishonest gain in this world.
“Your own legal brief against abortion shows this. Did you ever
wonder how such a psycho logic as underlies the Roe v. Wade Supreme
Court decision could become blessed at the highest levels of law? How
people could ever come to consider it morally right to kill their own
children? This was made possible because we the people allowed the
devil to orchestrate it, primarily in permitting our Constitution to remain
silent on the question of the unborn child’s right to life.
“This is not a personal indictment of Justice Blackmun and his court,
though neither is it absolution. The important point is that the citizens and
the Congress gave the Supreme Court an option it should never have had
by not correcting the deficiency in our Constitution. The law must be
clear to be of use, and, of all things, the law must be clear about the right
to life itself. The court’s job is merely to interpret the law, not to make it.
Given no reference to the unborn child in the Constitution, the Supreme
Court was, in effect, forced to make the law. They called it interpretation,
of course, having no other choice under the separation of powers.
“The Supreme Court could have saved the unborn child in Roe v.
Wade, but they were not legally obligated to do it. They opted for death
instead. This is a flagrant instance of the devil’s influence.
“The same goes for the President or FEMA’s decision to use or not to
use our large rapid response military units in the first days after Katrina.
Regardless of whether the President or any other decision maker was
unfairly obstructed by unstoppable supernatural forces, and they
apparently were, we the citizens must demand political accountability.
“More importantly, we must fulfill our own obligations to make the
law unambiguous. We must redefine the law so that it removes the option
for such legally sanctioned tragedies. We need a constitutional
amendment to protect the right to life of unborn children! Nothing less is
going to work.
“And, here is yet another orchestrated trap of the devil’s that I’ll bet
you would never guess: the two-party political system. Genuine corrective
action can often be impossible without additional political choices. We
have to work to create more voting options: Catholic-Christian candidates,
like our president, Monty Lewis. As it stood after Katrina, we had a
choice between killing unborn children with the Democrats or repealing
all of the environmental protection laws and leaving victims stranded in a
natural disaster with the Republicans. Thank God for the ChristianCatholic Independent Party.
“The list of the devil’s traps goes on. Occasionally Satanists are caught
at sabotage, but not often. That could soon change, however. With the
Lord’s help, the next few decades or centuries could reveal the satanic
activities in full. It is, even now, becoming difficult for them to hide.
“This kind of thing has probably gone on since time began, but I don’t
think it has been publicly made known within the larger Christian
community until recently. The novels of C. S. Lewis, L. A. Marzulli,
Michael D. O’Brien, and Frank Peretti have recently broken the ice on the
spiritual warfare theme in conjunction with the nonfiction efforts of
Father Gabriele Amorth, Ed Murphy, and Neil Anderson. Certainly,
though, some of the charismatic saints would have known of this secret
war in general terms, having at times been engaged in open warfare with
evil spirits and struggling to out-maneuver the evil persons who
cooperated with them.
“At this point in time the pace of that secret war seems to have picked
up. We may have entered the beginning of the period referred to in
Matthew 10:26 or 2 Thessalonians 2:6-12 where all will be revealed. The
previously secret activity of the satanic community will eventually be
coming out in the open in one form or the other. It should be interesting to
see—but by no means pleasant.”
Joe shakes his head. “Huh-uh.”
Father Bernie leans back admiring the stars, astronomy being one of
his hobbies. “You can see that this event is not just about the charism of
spiritual, angelic, or prophetic voice—a gift some may mistake for natural
telepathy. Certainly I treasure the gift of angelic-prophetic voice; with it
the Lord at times permits others to hear my prayers or scripture readings
in the Spirit.
“But far greater things are happening. As far as spiritual gifts go, the
most important primary gifts are the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit:
wisdom, understanding, counsel, strength, knowledge, piety, and fear of
the Lord. These all complete and perfect our virtues.
“Love, of course, is the greatest gift of all, without which the other
gifts have little meaning, as St. Paul instructs us at 1 Corinthians 13.
Additionally, visitations from one of the saints, an angel, or even the Lord
Himself are becoming more frequent. Now that’s something!”
“Are visitations possible for real people, like me—” Joe pauses, trying
to camouflage the doubts he had not meant to reveal “or just popes, saints,
and evangelists?”
“They are absolutely possible for ‘real people’—always have been. As
for as God is concerned that is the only kind of person there is. The more
real you are the more God loves you; pretension does not move us closer
to God—honesty and humility do.
“Church records document many visitations to laymen, and reliable
unofficial accounts confirm thousands more. They happen all the time,
and are, of course, the most wonderful blessing when they do.
“Saints have come from all walks of life, most of them fully reluctant
to be pulled into the limelight, and openly acknowledging the fact that
they too are sinners going humbly about the Lord’s work. The saints have,
as often as not, been as fully surprised and amazed at the Lord’s
outpouring of his Spirit around them as those who laud their virtues!
“Saints are mere mortals like the rest of us. They come from the poor,
the rich, and the in-between. They are otherwise normal people who
happen to have a personal love of God and their fellowman; generally,
they are just very compassionate and caring souls, people who God
decides to reward for having love in their hearts. We are all supposed to
try to be saints, though we are never supposed to presume to have
succeeded. We should remain humble. We are still sinners who need
God’s forgiveness, no matter how much good we may be doing
otherwise.”
Father Bernie finishes his coffee, says a brief prayer, and then
performs the sign of the cross. Seeing Joe’s cup quivering in his hand, he
gives him one with a little extra flourish.
Joe bows his head as the blessing washes over him, cleansing away the
demonic contamination and leaving him refreshed and renewed.
“Thank you for that, Father.
“Father, how bad can this all get?” Joe wants to know, still reeling
from the direct attack of the demon that occurred earlier in his sleep.
“Although Satan was substantially displaced as de facto ruler of the
earth by Christ’s victory on the cross, the two world wars nonetheless
give some indication of the devil’s capacity to wreak havoc. We may soon
find out more.
“What is the full range of a fallen angel’s power? We don’t know. The
supernatural remains largely mysterious to us. We have no true standard,
no inkling, really, of what Satan’s full capacity for harm is, that is, the
capacity he would have if he were not under the Lord’s restraint in some
measure. Had we known this, we would certainly have been on our knees
every day praying, thanking God for saving us from total horror. We
know angels, good and evil, have immense power; we just don’t know the
particulars.
“Now that Satan has temporary freedom, we can only pray for God’s
protection and hope St. Augustine is right, that God will grant his people
sufficient graces during the latter days to enable them to stand firm
against the devil’s final assault.
“Certainly we have every hope of success. Matthew 16:18 tells us the
gates of hell will never prevail against the Lord’s Church.
“Of course that won’t do much good for those who aren’t practicing
their faith sufficiently to be considered in communion with the Church.
But for those who are practicing their faith, the Bible affirms that much
help will be available. Ephesians 6 tells us the armor of God is available
to those who practice the faith. Malachi 3, the single chapter that
comprises Obadiah, along with Micah 4, and Zechariah 10 and 12 all
make clear that God’s people will trod down the wicked in the last battle,
functioning as God’s stately war horse.
“It is a funny kind of war, though, as love is still the primary tool we
use to attain victory. The good guys win; we know that. What we don’t
know is how dark it will become before the light returns, how intensively
we will have to struggle and suffer until final victory is gained.
“Even while acting as one of God’s instrument of the harvest, we must
continue to pray for our enemies, offering the love and mercy of Christ
until the very last moment, hoping against hope that all will finally seek
God’s mercy in repentance, if only on their deathbed. We will have to
oppose and struggle against people attempting to do evil things, but we
will not be their judges. Eternal judgment resides in the hands of Christ
alone. Nonetheless, God will burn up the ‘stubble’ of the recalcitrant and
unrepentant wicked via the presence of the Holy Spirit in his people
during the spiritual battles of the final days: ‘Jacob shall be a fire.’
“As the last age now rushes to a close, God will bring the evil ones in
close to us, close to the fire of the Holy Spirit. They will get a good look
at what genuine faith in God can do. Even while being attacked we must
continue to express God’s unconditional love towards them. This is what
the Bible teaches: overcome evil with good. In taking that approach the
Holy Spirit will reside with us.
“Lacking repentance, and intent only upon doing more evil, the evil
ones who reject God’s love and forgiveness will, tragically, be consumed
by the Spirit as the chaff of the eternal harvest. In effect, they will be
judging themselves by their own insistence on doing evil.
“This doesn’t have to happen to them, and in theory everyone could
make it, but it is possible for humans to enter a state of final impenitence
where they deny the forgiving spirit of God itself, and in so doing cause
their own destruction.
“The devil’s servants believe superior numbers will allow them to
overwhelm us, but the ‘chaff’ will not overcome the fire of the Holy
Spirit. As punishment for recalcitrant evil intentions, their human soul
will be scorched by the fiery wrath of God and subsequently wither and
fade. They may still seek and obtain salvation until their last breath, but
their risk of slipping into final impenitence grows greater the deeper they
fall under the devil’s influence. We should never give up on them; the
larger risk in these cases is that they may give up on themselves.
“At some point in the advanced progression of these end times
dynamics, God’s punishments and rewards will begin to incrementally
and inexorably advance in cycles. It will be the first fourteen chapters of
Exodus lived over. Deliverance of the righteous is guaranteed, but the
process will proceed methodically in steps: cycles of blessing and
punishments. The evil ones will have every chance to do the right thing,
to repent, within God’s will and grace. If God decides to harden their
hearts, however, as he did with Pharaoh, grace may be withheld. Those
who finally resolve to rebel against God’s will, after forsaking repeated
opportunities to save themselves in repentance, will be consumed in the
angry flames of God’s wrath no less than the Egyptian chariots were
overwhelmed by the Red Sea.
“Here, take a moment to check these tabbed passages from the
prophetic books.”
Obadiah 1:17-18
But on Mount Zion there shall be a portion saved; the
mountain shall be holy, And the house of Jacob shall take
possession of those that dispossessed them.
The house of Jacob shall be a fire, and the house of Joseph a
flame; The house of Esau shall be stubble, and they shall set
them ablaze and devour them; Then none shall survive of the
house of Esau, for the LORD has spoken.
Zechariah 10:3-9
My wrath is kindled against the shepherds, and I will punish
the leaders; For the LORD of hosts will visit his flock, the
house of Judah, and make them his stately war horse.
From him shall come leader and chief, from him warrior’s
bow and every officer.
They shall all be warriors, trampling the mire of the streets in
battle; They shall wage war because the LORD is with them,
and shall put the horsemen to rout.
I will strengthen the house of Judah, the house of Joseph I will
save; I will bring them back, because I have mercy on them,
they shall be as though I had never cast them off, for I am the
LORD, their God, and I will hear them.
Then Ephraim shall be valiant men, and their hearts shall be
cheered as by wine. Their children shall see it and be glad, their
hearts shall rejoice in the LORD.
I will whistle for them to come together, and when I redeem
them they will be as numerous as before.
I sowed them among the nations, yet in distant lands they
remember me; they shall rear their children and return.
Zechariah 12:1-10
An oracle: the word of the LORD concerning Israel. Thus says
the LORD, who spreads out the heavens, lays the foundations
of the earth, and forms the spirit of man within him:
See, I will make Jerusalem a bowl to stupefy all peoples round
about. (Judah will be besieged, even Jerusalem.)
On that day I will make Jerusalem a weighty stone for all
peoples. All who attempt to lift it shall injure themselves badly,
and all the nations of the earth shall be gathered against her.
On that day, says the LORD, I will strike every horse with
fright, and its rider with madness. I will strike blind all the
horses of the peoples, but upon the house of Judah I will open
my eyes, and the princes of Judah shall say to themselves, “The
inhabitants of Jerusalem have their strength in the LORD of
hosts, their God.”
On that day I will make the princes of Judah like a brazier of
fire in the woodland, and like a burning torch among sheaves,
and they shall devour right and left all the surrounding
peoples; but Jerusalem shall still abide on its own site.
The LORD shall save the tents of Judah first, that the glory of
the house of David and the glory of the inhabitants of
Jerusalem may not be exalted over Judah.
On that day, the LORD will shield the inhabitants of
Jerusalem, and the weakling among them shall be like David
on that day, and the house of David godlike, like an angel of
the LORD before them.
On that day I will seek the destruction of all nations that
come against Jerusalem.
I will pour out on the house of David and on the inhabitants
of Jerusalem a spirit of grace and petition; and they shall look
on him whom they have thrust through, and they shall mourn
for him as one mourns for an only son, and they shall grieve
over him as one grieves over a first-born.
Micah 4:11-13
How many nations are gathered against you! They say, “Let
her be profaned, let our eyes see Zion’s downfall!”
But they know not the thoughts of the LORD, nor understand
his counsel, When he has gathered them like sheaves on the
threshing floor.
Arise and thresh, O daughter Zion; your horn I will make
iron And your hoofs bronze, that you may crush many
peoples; You shall devote their spoils to the LORD, and their
riches to the Lord of the whole earth.
*****
“Zion, Jerusalem, Joseph, Jacob, Israel, Ephraim, Judah, and the
house of David are all used as symbols of God’s people. The house of
Esau, on the other hand, represents the evil ones who have rebelled
against God. This holy war, along with the other primary event themes of
the end of days including judgment, has been going on since Christ (John
12:31 NAB).
“This is one reason you are being attacked: you are, or are intended to
be the Lord’s stately warhorse in the last battle! That makes you a
concrete threat to the devil and his community. Another reason is that the
devil simply hates us because we are reborn of the Spirit and remade
anew in the image of God. Satan doesn’t need the first reason to hate us,
but we must be sure to give it to him. We must go to war for Christ. We
must protect the innocent with prayer, with service to the community,
with personal friendship, with devotion to the Church and its Holy
Sacraments and with uncompromised acts of faith. We have to stop
compromising the unlimited power, glory and majesty of God!”
Father Bernie smiles wryly, looking Joe squarely in the eye. “Turn up
the flame of the Holy Spirit in your life every chance you get: go to
Church, pray, do miracles if you are permitted. But always remember that
the Church is our center, the source of our protection and empowerment.
“The enemy wants desperately to douse the flame of the Spirit in our
lives. Satan is all too happy to see his own people consumed in the fires of
judgment, true, for that is his goal for all of us after all. But he knows the
flames of the Holy Spirit are first and foremost salvific. God isn’t giving
up on anyone until their last breath. The optimism, joy, unconditional love
and friendship generated by the Spirit of God inevitably breaks people
free from Satan’s grasp.
“To keep his grip on people, the devil, and, most unfortunately, those
people who serve him or otherwise fall under his temporary influence,
will try anything and everything to put those around them into a negative
frame of mind—anything negative whatsoever works to their advantage—
but especially sin. Conversely, the Spirit of God is increased in our lives
through a conscious choice to express goodness, love, friendship, joy, and
celebration of Christ—especially in the sacraments of the Church. It’s a
real and real-time struggle between the forces of good and evil, positive
and negative.
“This is why people around us appear to be doing an endless stream of
inane things, things that seem to have no other purpose than to ruin a
positive mood—for that is precisely the purpose. We must remain on
guard against the negative. ‘Don’t worry, be happy,’ must be our war cry,
following St. Padre Pio. Otherwise the devil will use us as an instrument
to promote negativity in the community around us.
“It is not such a bitter pill to take, that our master strategy for this
spiritual war is to trust God so fully that we are miserably happy—but
there it is. That’s how much God loves us. Our defense against the devil’s
final attack is to center ourselves in love, joy, faith and happiness! It’s a
funny kind of war, a war Christ has already won for us. Who would have
thought the last battle would be so simple! The requisite affirmation of
Christ is done, surprisingly enough, by simply practicing old time
religion, by living a humble Christian life and putting all the hard stuff
into God’s hands. Therein lies full victory!
“Of course, we do carry our own cross, each person in his or her our
own way. Life will have its tough moments. But Christ heals all wounds!
And he has overcome death itself on our behalf.
“Don’t give up on anyone, but do exercise prudence. Keep a safe
distance from anyone who shows signs of being truly physically or
spiritually dangerous. If contact can’t be avoided, affirm Christ with
confidence. Evil cannot stop you when you affirm Christ; the demonic
spirits must cower before the Lord. Evil shrivels and melts away in the
presence of the holy fire.
“In God’s wisdom, however, at times Christians are required to give
up their lives. We may become victims of violent persecution or other
more routine threats. Should martyrdom be required to glorify God, so be
it. Martyrdom is not a defeat. It is the greatest gift and victory the Lord
offers his children here on earth. It ensures an eternal place of honor in
heaven.
“And let’s face it; we are all mortals. Though our souls are eternal, our
bodies are going to die of something. It may as well be doing the right
thing in God’s service earning an everlasting reward.
“That’s not to say that it will always be easy. There will be suffering,
trials, tests and tribulations of no small magnitude—even martyrdom. But
both victory and eternal reward are certain if we hold on to Jesus.”
Father is exhausted. He moves to close.
“The direct spiritual warfare our team is designed to do is an important
part of the last battle, but our primary focus as Christians remains what it
always has been: love God and help your neighbor. It’s still just a matter
of old time religion.
“To get to where we need to be, we must first cultivate greater
holiness and closer friendship with God in our own lives. Having first
established a solid spiritual base to work from, we should look for ways to
help those around us on a personal basis, and if our situation allows, be
socially and politically active—try to improve the world we live in. We
should spread the Gospel in our own unique personal way among the
people we meet, not pushing our faith on others, but joyfully sharing with
those who show an interest.
“We must continue to give relief to the poor even if we can only afford
a few dollars per week; it adds up. We have to pitch in on the large tasks,
such as establishing and maintaining good government. And perhaps most
important of all, we have to teach our own children the faith.
“Our individual contributions in these areas may seem small, even
negligible, but with roughly 4 billion God-fearing people of the different
faiths on planet Earth working for God, it adds up pretty quick—and God
promises matching funds. God can afford a pretty big match!
Occasionally he honors our small efforts in very dramatic ways. As our
parents always taught us, it’s the thought that counts. St Theresa of
Calcutta said, “The smallest act of kindness is never wasted.”
Pam finally returns with pastries, fresh ones. She pretends they are day
old. Pam knows Father Bernie puts an equivalent donation into the local
food bank for the poor when he can finagle a freebee at a bakery or a
restaurant. It is too late to quibble over details in any case.
“These Danish are awfully warm and moist for day-old, Pam.”
“Oh really? Well, I just warmed them up a bit for my favorite homilist.
Priests work very hard for their community; they deserve a little help in
return.” She begins putting up the chairs for the night.
Seeing no reason to admonish Pam for having good taste in homilists,
Father invites Joe to help himself. In a moment, they have devoured six of
the delicious cinnamon rolls. Father says the concluding Grace.
“Oh, one last thing. Three of our other top priorities are saving the
environment from global warming and toxic pollution, saving the unborn
children by working to end abortion, and, a problem less well known,
rescuing the martyrs. Christians are being attacked, imprisoned, tortured
and killed for their faith in some twenty countries around the world even
today. This is no less a horror story than when the Romans threw the
Christians to the lions or boiled them in oil during the first four centuries.
A good place to start on that problem is to support the Voice of the
Martyrs organization at http://www.persecution.com/. Their free weekly
newsletter is a good guide to prayer for the persecuted Church in other
nations, and any small donation you can make can do wonderful things to
rescue those who have lost their homes, jobs, and health due to unjust
religious persecution.”
“Count me in, Father. I’m fully on board. I’ll start looking for ways to
help.”
“Great! Hey, let’s get out of here, Joe; it’s practically time to go to
work.”
*****
Smiling, Clayton tugs at his ear lobes.
“Spiritual voice is real. I heard Mr. Alvarez telepathically today, and
understood him. He doesn’t speak a word of English! He didn’t say much,
only ‘God bless you’ but it was enough. Unfortunately, spiritual voice is a
gift the devil loves to impersonate. He has been jabbering BS in my ear
most of the day trying to make me doubt the truth of the original
occurrence. I’m ignoring him, as Fr. Bernie instructed.”
Clayton hands over a Bible with a handful of colored page tabs.
“There’s something you should see here. The last chapter of Mark,
chapter two of Acts, and a few related passages.”
“OK,” Joe begins flipping the pages, “Matthew, Mark, here we go.”
His finger runs down the pages of Mark, and he begins to scan
silently: When the Sabbath was over . . . Jesus rose early . . . These signs
will accompany those who believe . . . In my name they will drive out
demons, and then speaking out loud as it hits him, “They will speak in
new tongues.”
He notices a second tab at 1 Corinthians, chapter thirteen. “If I speak
in human and angelic tongues . . . ”
Full understanding of a holy event might be beyond man’s grasp, but
you could get this far—you could confirm that it was happening. It’s
happening! Joe bows his head. Reaching again for the Bible he finds Acts
chapter 2:
When the time for Pentecost was fulfilled, they were all in one
place together. And suddenly there came from the sky a noise
like a strong driving wind, and it filled the entire house in which
they were. Then there appeared to them tongues as of fire,
which parted and came to rest on each one of them. And they
were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in
different tongues, as the Spirit enabled them to proclaim.
Now there were devout Jews from every nation under
heaven staying in Jerusalem. At this sound, they gathered in a
large crowd, but they were confused because each one heard
them speaking in his own language. They were astounded, and
in amazement they asked, “‘Are not all these people who are
speaking Galileans? Then how does each of us hear them in his
own native language? We are Parthians, Medes, and Elamites,
inhabitants of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and
Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the districts of Libya
near Cyrene, as well as travelers from Rome, both Jews and
converts to Judaism, Cretans and Arabs, yet we hear them
speaking in our own tongues of the mighty acts of God.”
They were all astounded and bewildered, and said to one
another, “What does this mean?”
But others said, scoffing, “They have had too much new
wine.”
Then Peter stood up with the Eleven, raised his voice, and
proclaimed to them, “You who are Jews, indeed all of you
staying in Jerusalem. Let this be known to you, and listen to my
words. These people are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is
only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken
through the prophet Joel:
‘It will come to pass in the last days,’ God says, ‘that I will
pour out a portion of my spirit upon all flesh. Your sons and
your daughters shall prophesy, your young men shall see
visions, your old men shall dream dreams. Indeed, upon my
servants and my handmaids I will pour out a portion of my
spirit in those days, and they shall prophesy. And I will work
wonders in the heavens above and signs on the earth below:
blood, fire, and a cloud of smoke. The sun shall be turned to
darkness, and the moon to blood, before the coming of the great
and splendid day of the Lord, and it shall be that everyone shall
be saved who calls on the name of the Lord.’55
“There’s something else. Look at James 3. He says the human tongue
is influenced by the forces of hell and cannot be tamed. Now look at what
St. Peter tells us in 2 Peter 1:19-21, that prophecy can make no errors at
all: it is wholly reliable. Therefore, the human tongue cannot be used for
direct real-time prophecy; a flawless vehicle of some kind must be
available. Otherwise prophecy must be subjected to the discernment
process over time and the real-time prophetic events of scripture in the
Old Testament become impossible without some exceptional gift from
God for the prophets to use in order to overcome demonic interference
and the tendency to human error.”
“Angelic voice, a gift of the Holy Spirit!”
“Perhaps. There is an alternative. God could simply boot out the devil
and control our tongues temporarily with perfect effect. On the other
hand, it is possible that when the apostles were speaking to the crowds at
Pentecost they used the prophetic gift of angelic voice so that they could
be understood by all and maintain the inerrancy prophecy requires.
“This would still allow that, when speaking to individuals they may
have used the more ‘down to earth’ gift of languages, or tongues, and
actually spoke the other man’s language using physical voice. Also, as the
Holy Spirit descended at Pentecost, the rapture of such a close
communion with God may well have, in addition, evoked the lesser gift of
unintelligible utterances, a form of tongues that is understandable only by
God, and perhaps the angels. This last form is what is more commonly
referred to as speaking in tongues.”
“Alleluia! I never thought I would encounter a genuine spiritual
charism, to hear someone speak with the voice of an angel! This whole
end times thing is amazing!”
*****
“In theory, biblical references to a darkening of the sun could signify a
complete burnout, the end of the solar system—and there are plenty of
cataclysms indicated in prophecy—but solar burnout is scientifically
predictable. Taking this view would contradict the biblical maxim that no
man will know the day or the hour of the Lord’s return.
“That predictability assumes certain things, of course. One, that we are
not moved to another solar system prior to the destruction of this one, and,
two, that God doesn’t miraculously cause burnout prior to the close of the
sun’s natural term.
“Then there is Murphy’s Law. At some point in the future man,
himself, might have the technology to destroy the sun with an advanced
missile of some kind as in Star Trek Generations. A lunatic might decide
to launch one in an insane nihilistic frenzy.
“The sun danced at Fatima, Portugal in 1917. It (or its shadow) went
backwards in Isaiah 38, and it stayed in place 24 hours for Joshua to
finalize his battle.56 We must allow that God could terminate the sun early
through miraculous intervention. Of course, the only biblical precedent
needed to ground the possibility of miraculous intervention of any kind is
the simple verse, ‘All things are possible to God.’
“Also, recall Christ’s comments that he could return at a time when we
least expect it. Jesus tells us to go so far in anticipation of his early return
as to sleep with our clothes on. This is a figure of speech, of course, not
literal. It refers to maintaining our dignity through purification from sin.
This way we are not embarrassed by sin when Christ returns. Despite this
deeper meaning, the implication remains that our Lord could return at any
time.
“Christ may also be teaching us the truth of individual judgment here.
Our death could come at any moment by accident, crime, war, or illness
with little or no warning. As they say in the movies . . . ”
Father takes a moment to gather his dramatic personae. Pretending to
pull out a machinegun, he mimes its shape, announcing loudly in the
voice of Jimmy Cagney, “‘Prepare to meet your God! I’m gonna give it to
you like you gave it to my brother.’”
Leaning backward against the imagined recoil of the formidable
weapon, Father sways from side to side spraying the group with
imaginary bullets.
“Plllllllup . . . Plllllllup . . . Plllllllup . . . ”
“Encore, encore!”
Feigning a psychological boost from the applause, Father drags out his
moment of glory a bit to entertain the group, then sits down to continue
the exposition of Revelation.
“So much for fun and games. Let’s return to biblical exposition. Using
common astronomical signs as a primary referent for Revelation 6:12-13
is not an absolute certainty. Eclipses are not uncommon; two to five solar
eclipses occur each year. The lunar eclipses are somewhat less frequent.
The Leonid meteor shower normally occurs only once per year. This
month the Leonid occurs twice, which is unusual. Having a double meteor
shower in the same month as both a lunar and solar eclipse is even more
improbable, something like one chance in fifteen hundred.
“Taken separately, none of these events serve as unique time markers.
However, an improbable convergence of all of them in conjunction with a
spiritual event corresponding to the passage’s symbolic meaning, in this
case a major demonic incursion, would seem to surpass standard
probability expectations sufficiently to constitute a valid sign.
“While these events are admittedly not as cataclysmic as most people
traditionally expect the signs of Revelation 6 to be, it is possible that God
is phasing in the severity of the signs to give those of us with spiritual
eyes and ears who can read the signs with spiritual discernment advanced
warning as a reward for our faith. Nonbelievers will not pay attention in
any case until things become catastrophic.
“Revelation 6 also uses the astronomical events non-literally as
symbols. At Revelation chapter nine the footnotes reveal falling stars to
be common symbols for fallen angels, or demons. What is on the surface
a reference to astronomical events is also announcing a major demonic
incursion through the use of symbolism.
“Both the literal and the symbolic import of Revelation six have now
seemingly been satisfied at least at an initial level of intensity. Given the
possibility that God’s message of the impending close of this world will
occur in cycles as they did in the first twelve chapters of Exodus the
current astronomical signs could be a genuine fulfillment of Revelation 6
without precluding the occurrence of more severe versions of similar
signs in the future.
“Reason, common sense, informed exposition and the inspiration of
the Holy Spirit must be capable of resolving the meaning of a biblical
passage at the point in history when God actually brings forth the sign,
else the sign is useless. Jesus rebuked the Hebrew religious leaders for not
being able to read the signs, so we know the signs are not there for
nonbelievers, but for the faithful.
“The purpose of using cycles of events with a recurring theme is not to
redundantly reiterate the obvious that the earth is to be destroyed by
cataclysmic events. Prior astronomical signs and the science of astronomy
have already told us the same thing. The purpose is give advance warning
to the faithful who have spiritual discernment so they may prepare
themselves in the spirit for the traumatic events ahead and for the full
purity and goodness of heaven and the next world. From that perspective
it makes more sense to give the signs early in a less severe form. This
gives us a chance to start working on our spiritual growth within
conditions that have some semblance of normalcy. Kind of hard to focus
on contemplative prayer and religious mediations while the stars are
literally falling around you. Spiritual growth takes time, and humans have
a long way to grow to approach the pure goodness of God.
“The Church does not do astrology, of course; the devil’s people work
with astrology. God does, however, use astronomical signs to guide us at
special times. There is a notable precedent: the Lord’s birth, ‘a star in the
east’? Also, as I mentioned, Joshua made the sun stand still for an entire
day, and, in Isaiah, God caused the shadow of the sun to go backwards
and retrace its steps.
“For Joshua, that sign represented victory. The sign for King Hezekiah
in Isaiah 38 signaled protection against enemies, personal healing, and
deliverance from death. Christ’s return represents the absolute fulfillment
of all of these kinds of gifts: victory, healing, and deliverance from evil
and death. Therefore, God would be consistent with biblical precedent in
using astronomical signs as harbingers of his return.
“Two questions remain to be clarified whenever signs are given: is
there involvement of the miraculous, and is the revelation public or
private?
“The star in the east might have moved in an unnatural course in order
to guide the wise men, perhaps even descending, or it may have done
nothing miraculous. It could have merely marked the spot from a normal
and stable position. The wise men might have been moved by the Spirit in
such a way as to maintain a corresponding course attitude that
periodically placed Bethlehem under the star from their perspective. There
is actually such a thing known to science as a wandering star. Along with
everything else these are described on the Internet.
“On the other hand, what was taken to be a star may simply have been
an angel whose radiance caused it to be mistaken for a star. The angel that
appeared to the magi to announce Christ’s birth may have intentionally
assumed the appearance of a star for the purpose of guiding them to baby
Jesus. Or it may have been an angel straight out. If traditional symbolism
can depict fallen angels as falling stars, then good angels might be
represented by unfallen stars.
“On the surface of things, the sun appears to have behaved
miraculously for Joshua. Joshua’s army had twenty-four hours of sunlight
in which to prosecute battle. Alternatively, it is possible that God gave
Joshua’s troops the ability to see in the dark until their foes were
vanquished, thus accomplishing the same result with a collection of
individual gifts in lieu of stopping the earth’s rotation around the sun. The
biblical language, in this latter case, may have employed symbolism as a
means to express the exalted status of God’s magnificent gifts, or it may
be a simple description of how Joshua’s men experienced the event in the
best way they knew to describe it. It is even possible that they were
supernaturally provided with an internal image of the sun to avoid their
being distracted from the frenzy of battle until the enemy was destroyed.
“However, as both the sun and the moon are described as holding their
relative positions for an entire day, a real public miracle seems the most
likely interpretation of Joshua 10. In either case, the event in Joshua 10
was fully anomalous and simultaneously known to many. It therefore
appears to involve the miraculous whether the orbits of heavenly bodies
were stayed or hundreds of people were simultaneously given the ability
to see in the dark.
“Interestingly, giant hail stones fell upon Joshua’s enemies, killing
more of them than his warriors slew in battle, another anomalous
astronomical-meteorological sign.
“The event of King Hezekiah’s observing the shadow of the sun go
backwards is more ambiguous than Joshua 10; it is as likely a private
revelation as a public one. However, in Sirach 48:23 the author says
Isaiah ‘turned back the sun and prolonged the life of the king.’ This need
not be literal, however, as it might be another instance of magnifying the
status of the event as a means to find some expression that approaches the
exalted state of miraculous divine gifts originating with Almighty God
himself.
“Even at Fatima, Portugal, with St. Mary’s appearance to the three
shepherd children there in 1917, the sun was quote unquote seen to do odd
things. At Fatima, however, not everyone in that part of the world
observed the same irregularities at the same time.”
“Due to the absence of the publicly miraculous in this month’s
astronomical signs, the intuitive tendency is to look for something more
dramatic and cataclysmic in the future to fulfill Revelation six. But there
is a scriptural argument against cataclysmic events as signs of the end.
The scripture says that most people will remain oblivious to the warning
signs of the end, as in the days of Noah. They will continue their normal
lives, eating and drinking, marrying and carrying on daily business as if
nothing unusual is happening right up to the last moment. That tells us
that, whatever the signs of the end will be, they will not be unequivocal;
they will remain plausibly deniable to the rational intellect minus the aid
of inspired interpretation.
“The people of Noah’s day apparently did not get extensive dramatic
astronomical-meteorological signs as premonitions of the flood. What
they got was Noah and his prophecy. If the days of Noah are to be used as
a template for the issuance of warnings during the last days, then subtle
astronomical signs being interpreted by a prophet would be a closer match
than outright catastrophe that anyone could understand.
“That would seem to definitively rule out employing the death of the
sun by any means, natural or supernatural as merely a sign. Business as
usual would be a bit difficult without it. Such a sign would not be
deniable; it wouldn’t require the interpretation of a prophet. And once the
sun has completely burned out, the warning period will be so brief as to
be of little use. Even with a gradual phase-out of the sun life would not
survive the first substantial change; our ecosystem is too sensitive.
“Only in pure and wildly speculative theory can science conceivably
construct an artificial substitute for the sun. This has not been shown to be
feasible. The passing of the sun must be assumed to be irremediable,
alarming everyone. But the scripture says such universal alarm will not
occur; most people will miss the signs of the end.
“This suggests that the primary import of Revelation 6:12-13 is
symbolic, representing a spiritual darkness, not a physical event at all, and
that more subtle astronomical signs may be given that require prophetic
interpretation. With the advent of the spiritual darkness, the demonic
surge, God is warning that His light will be withdrawn from an evil world
if it doesn’t repent and turn back to its God and Creator.
“This spiritual catastrophe teaches us how critical the light, love and
warmth of God’s presence in our lives is to our survival and wellbeing, a
presence we too often take for granted without giving God thanks and
praise. This kind of sign is immediately perceivable to good people with
spiritual discernment; they will be painfully aware of the Lord’s absence.
The evil ones, on the other hand, being oblivious to God’s actions in their
lives, will not notice the change, or, if they do, they won’t consider it
sufficiently dramatic to satisfy their conception of what the signs of the
end will be. It won’t be a big change to them because they are already
living in a self-imposed darkness.
“The Lord has told us that this is precisely his reason for using subtlety
in the scriptures when he explained the parables to his apostles. If the
signs were unmistakable, the evil ones would repent, but not due to
conversion of heart. They would repent merely to try to preserve their
lives.
“These signs are being given as the signs of impending judgment.
They would defeat their very purpose if by their nature they made the
separation of good from evil impossible. Although subtle, by putting our
eternal salvation at risk in the removal of God’s light from our world, the
event is even more cataclysmic than if mere physical survival were
threatened. One’s instinct to look for truly cataclysmic events in
Revelation 6:12-13 is therefore justified and fulfilled by this kind of
symbolic reading, though we are not in the habit of thinking is such terms.
After all, eternal damnation is the most cataclysmic event a human being
can experience.
“The imposition of a spiritual darkness may seem to contradict the
Lord’s promise in Joel 4 and Acts 2 to pour out his spirit on his children
in the last days, but that outpouring is directed not at the world as a whole
but only those living the faith. Thus, the message St. Mary has repeatedly
emphasized in recent apparitions: return to an affectionate friendship with
God through renewed devotion to prayer. This fits the end times prophecy
of Revelation 6:12-13 because St. Mary has posed this alternative of
renewed faith and devotion as the only way to avoid being overcome by
the surge of darkness symbolized in Revelation 6, the only way to stand
against the demonic assault.
“We will receive the promised outpouring of the Lord’s spirit in the
process of affirming Christ in our life each day, especially by devotion to
the Holy Rosary. St. Mary is our doorway to Christ.”
“Revelation 6 illustrates the important rule that to accurately interpret
a biblical passage it must be set within the context of the entire scripture.57
Prophecy especially requires this technique. Prophetic passages are so
mysterious that they could mean practically anything without further
clarification from context.”
“What do you think will happen next, Father?” Pam asks.
“More dramatic signs, actually a continuation of signs we have already
seen: earthquakes, tidal waves.58 hurricanes,59 degradation of culture in the
great apostasy, the tribulation, a spiritual form of tribulation deriving from
Satan’s final assault. Jesus’ comment at Luke 21 gives an additional sign:
‘kingdom shall rise against kingdom.’ In addition to the obvious allusion
to nations at war, this refers to the kingdom of God confronting the
kingdom of darkness in the final spiritual battle. This is a palpable fight
where good people stand up alongside the host of heaven to wage war
against evil. Christ’s reference to the kingdoms colliding is not merely a
poetic allusion to theoretical differences between moral and immoral
cultures; it is a real fight.
“I should note that the Church teaches that the thousand year reign of
Christ, at least in one important sense, is indisputably underway. This is
the Augustinian view that Christ has been reigning from heaven since his
victory on the cross, and that Christians are permitted to participate in that
reign by affirming Christ’s victory in their lives—see Revelation 5:9-10.
Granted, this is somewhat mysterious, but the Church teaches that we are
joined in Christ’s mystical body and participate in his resurrection even
now.
“Not only do Christians on earth have an immediate share in Christ’s
victory over death, but in a hidden and partially mysterious way we
participate in Christ’s heavenly life even now and share that experience
with the rest of the Church through the communion of saints.60
“While having stridently affirmed that Christians on earth are
genuinely resurrected with Christ in this mysterious and participative
Augustinian sense of the word, the Catholic Church has, nonetheless,
never made the question of a literal first bodily resurrection a primary
topic in theology. While Church dogma is silent on the topic, the unstated
assumption seems to be that there is no reason of substance to believe the
first resurrection is a literal bodily resurrection, but rather the resurrection
in the spirit of rebirth through Christ—dead to sin and reborn in the Spirit
in Baptism.
“Some Protestants have traditionally assumed a literal bodily first
resurrection as an unquestioned truth. Protestants potentially differ among
themselves on the specifics of how, when or even why and for whom or
how many the first resurrection occurs. Despite the lack of emphasis on
the topic of a literal first resurrection in Catholic theological tradition, and
despite the fact that a prima facie case can be made for a literal first
resurrection within the scripture, the Marian dogma of the assumption and
glorification of St. Mary indicates that her glorification is and will be
unique among men until final judgment. Pope Pius XII proclaimed this
infallibly in his apostolic constitution, Munificentissimus Deus. Thus any
resurrection occurring prior to final judgment would have to be of normal
physical bodies, not the glorified angelic form we are to assume after final
judgment.
“Let me see your Bible, Pam. Now, here is a passage strongly
suggestive of a literal first bodily resurrection. (Matthew 27:45-53)
From noon onward, darkness came over the whole land until
three in the afternoon. And about three o’clock Jesus cried
out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” which
means, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”
Some of the bystanders who heard it said, “This one is
calling for Elijah.” Immediately one of them ran to get a
sponge; he soaked it in wine, and putting it on a reed, gave it
to him to drink. But the rest said, “Wait, let us see if Elijah
comes to save him.” But Jesus cried out again in a loud
voice, and gave up his spirit. And behold, the veil of the
sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth
quaked, rocks were split, tombs were opened, and the bodies
of many saints who had fallen asleep were raised. And
coming forth from their tombs after his resurrection, they
entered the holy city and appeared to many.
“This passage is quite powerful. It remains mysterious to some extent
but the symbolic meaning is clear enough: we will be resurrected to
eternal life through Christ’s victory over death and sin on the cross. The
most likely reading of this event is that it was a dramatic small-scale
physical resurrection used to illustrate the spiritual resurrection we share
in Christ through Baptism and to symbolize the final resurrection to come.
That doesn’t mean there won’t be a literal first bodily resurrection, it only
means that there doesn’t need to be a first bodily resurrection for this
incident to make theological sense.
Pam has another question. “Father, that passage reminds me of yet
another tough theology question—something that has always bothered
me. Why would Jesus think God his Father had abandoned him, even at
the moment of death? All of his teachings tell us to place our values in the
eternal goods of the next world and not to value the things of this world,
even to hate this life. Was it simply the overwhelming intensity of the
pain that made him say that—I mean he was fully a human being as well
as the divine son of God, and he might understandably have been
speaking from delirium after so much torture, pain, and injury?”
“The fact that the Holy Spirit allowed that statement to make it into the
permanent version of the scripture created by the Church councils argues
against it being an unconscious act of delirium. Not that some purely
anecdotal details of storyline haven’t survived in biblical tales, but there
aren’t many that don’t serve some purpose toward supporting the meaning
of the passage. In this case, the statement “Why hast thou forsaken me?”
is not suitable as a meaning-neutral detail of the storyline because on the
surface it portends a lot of meaning.
“It must therefore be read as a consciously intended statement made by
Jesus for the purpose of communicating something to us. Given the pain
and effort involved to make that statement with essentially his last breath,
it is a rational assumption that the message was important. So, what was
the message. Obviously, he did not mean full abandonment in a literal
sense because it would, as you said, contradict his own teachings about
the goodness of God, his Father. Certainly, God the Father, being all
good, a perfect loving father, would never abandon his son, and Jesus
understood that better than anyone else.
“So, what did he mean? Christ’s statement is a quote from the Psalms:
Psalm 22. Jesus was praying the Psalm, not criticizing his God, and not
merely crying out in pain, though certainly he had every justification for
doing that.61 His very last words, “Into your hands I commend my spirit,”
were also an act of praying the Psalms—in this case Psalm 31:6. As the
Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) tells us at CCC 1093, praying
the Psalms is a part of the liturgy of worship originating in the days of the
Old Covenant that is still practiced today.
“It seems odd to have to say the obvious, that Jesus, who was God,
was actively practicing, that is, living his faith unto the very last breath.
How could God made man do anything else? He is the liturgy personified!
But a statement like “Why hast thou forsaken me?” legitimately calls for
clarification because, on the surface, it would seem to suggest a moment
of doubt. But the doubt was not his; it belonged to the originator of the
Psalm that Jesus was praying, King David.
“Even there we have good reason to believe that David, being a very
devout man who had lived through the many ups and downs of the
Hebrew people’s struggle, and had God’s prophets explain the reason for
the punishments that they at times incurred, knew that times of crisis arise
not because God has deserted us, but because we have deserted him. The
many other psalms of David are replete with thanksgiving for God having
delivered David from threat after threat and with affirmations that God
always does deliver his people.
“Even David would have been wise enough to use the expression as a
non-literal figure of speech meaning essentially “What have I (or we)
done wrong this time?” not “Why is God fickle to his beloved children at
times when they need him the most?” David knew that doesn’t happen,
and Jesus knew it more.
“Another thing to note in support of Christ not having lost faith in God
his Father in that final moment is that Christ was always teaching us his
entire life, and with his entire life. Psalm 22 is titled ‘The Prayer of an
Innocent Man.’ Christ used this vehicle, the 22nd Psalm, in conjunction
with the universally acknowledged veracity of a dying man’s last words,
to affirm his innocence, a condition critical to the efficaciousness of his
sacrifice for our sins: a lamb without spot or blemish. Jesus was offering
The Prayer of an Innocent Man to affirm that he was innocent, and that he
was so fully innocent that he qualified to serve as the paschal lamb that
atones for the sin of the entire human race, the long awaited Messiah.
“The 22nd Psalm epitomizes the suffering of the human condition.
Christ was also using it to validate his true humanity, to confirm that,
although divine, he chose to live and suffer authentically as a human
being. All the better to prepare him to be our advocate to God the Father.
So, Jesus was still teaching us on the cross, even unto his last breath.
Psalm 22 was the most apt instrument for the purpose, and properly
understood, perhaps a perfect instrument.
“In addition to the reasons just cited, we should remember that Christ
is the fulfillment of God’s promise to David that his line would never fail.
So, in a sense, with Jesus’ passion on the cross being an eternal timeless
event, he might be considered as directly answering any doubts David
might have been expressing personally in Psalm 22 about God’s loyalty to
Israel by consummating the event that places an heir of David’s on the
throne of Israel forever.
“The symbolic sense of the scripture at Psalm 22 wherein the doubt
expressed may be taken to be an expression of all of our moments of
doubt also has a resolution. The Catechism of the Catholic Church at
number 603 says that what Christ was doing with his last words was
taking up that symbolic sense and speaking not for himself but for the
entire human race, asking why God had abandoned us to slavery to sin
without rescue. In the very next instant, of course, he is gone, and sin and
death go with him. They are defeated for us all and for all time if we only
affirm Christ and repent our sins.
Three days later, Christ’s victory over death and sin is demonstrated
with his resurrection. He ascends into heaven to sit at the right hand of
God the Father, glorified and immortal.
“In submitting himself to death, Christ rescued all of us from it, taking
our death sentence for sin upon himself. Question—answer! Problem
solved! Christ reflects our questions and doubts about why we have been
abandoned to sin with his last breath, and in his next action he provides
the eternal solution in his own resurrected person!
“That situation is quite the reverse of a Father who didn’t care enough
to rescue Christ his own son from the cross. You talk about a caring
Father? Jesus had no sooner posed the request for our deliverance from
sin than it was carried out with the fullness of divine efficacy. Christ says
the equivalent of, ‘Father please rescue my brothers and sisters, your
human children. I am willing to take their punishment for them to give
them another chance,’ and God the Father answers with the equivalent of
‘Done! Next question.’
“God the Father answered Jesus so generously at that moment because
Jesus himself was, in the very moment of his death, proving that he was
willing to put his “money,” in this case, his total human existence and
immense pain and anguish, where his mouth was; he was willing to back
up his request to save us by investing everything he had in the effort.
“Under those circumstances of full commitment, what is God the
Father’s answer: ‘Done. Next question. Matching funds—you make an
honest effort and I will back you up 100%’ When we invest our own
resources and effort in solving a problem for the suffering and afflicted of
this world God is going to hear our prayers as well.
“Christ also here reminds us that he is the fulfillment of the messianic
prophecy. Psalm 22 is the Psalm that prefigures the Lord’s crucifixion.
“There may also be one additional lesson in Christ’s words from the
Psalm. As Christians we will be carrying our own cross. The devil will no
doubt suggest to us that we should consider ourselves abandoned by God
because he has permitted suffering. However, Jesus’ life proves this to be
a false alarm because he was gloriously resurrected on Easter morning,
passed into a much better world, and accomplished great things through
his suffering!
“Jesus is telling us, you may have doubts when moments of suffering
arise, but look what happens if you hold on to your faith!
“A magnificent reward awaits those humans whose souls are purified
through suffering. We are not being abandoned when we suffer, but rather
tempered and purified as preparation for a much greater gift: the paradise
of heaven and the perfect world to follow final judgment. We have to
invest some suffering to get those magnificent matching funds, but it will
be more than worth the investment.
“God needs to know we are committed to goodness and love before
admitting us into a divine paradise with only goodness in it. Holding on to
our commitment to Christ through suffering, Christ who represents
goodness and love, proves we mean it, proves we are committed, if not
yet perfect. Suffering forms our soul, preparing it to receive the divine
grace that will change us eternally into a purely good and glorified person
at final judgment. The willingness to give up all we have in this world to
hold to that commitment to Christ, to die for our faith if necessary,
similarly forms our souls and prepares them for God’s grace and the
glorification of our body and soul at the resurrection following final
judgment.
“In praying Psalm 22 Jesus was also teaching us that scripture is the
greatest comfort we have in difficult moments, while simultaneously
drawing his own solace in time of need from the divine word.”
“He was teaching us all that at the final moment of his greatest pain
and with his last breath? He must certainly love us a lot to make such an
effort!”
“Yes—he had reached the point of pain surpassing human endurance;
he was at the brink of death; and he expended his final effort to teach us—
and look how much he was teaching us! No wonder God the Father
qualified him for matching funds; Jesus invested everything he had in the
project right down to his last breath. He loved us a lot, is right: infinite,
unconditional, never-ending, divine love.”
“Wow!”
“Jesus wasn’t praying the 22nd Psalm to express doubt; he was praying
it so there would be no doubt, no doubt that God keeps all his promises, in
this case the promise that the Davidic line of kings would never fail, and
no doubt that we have been saved from sin and death by the divine
sacrifice of the Messiah.”
“Thanks be to God!”
*****
“St. Mary has reportedly warned in recent apparitions in clear and
definite terms that the devil is threatening a takeover of anyone
unprotected by faith. She exhorts us to return to the Rosary to acquire
sufficient protection. Many of these apparitions remain to be investigated
and approved but the message makes perfect sense whether the apparition
turns out to be officially authenticated or not. At this late and critical hour,
the only alternative to demonic possession or a stifling oppression is a
renewed devotion to prayer and church, especially the Holy Mass and
confession.
“Given the intensity that the last phase of this spiritual battle will
inevitably manifest, those who do choose Christ and successfully hold on
to an active faith may find themselves at times surrounded by evil. This
may take the form of either demons or people, or both. It could include
even one’s own family and friends62 who have, for the moment at least,
chosen wrongly and fallen under the devil’s influence. Demonic
oppression has reached epidemic proportions—and the threat of mass
possession looms ominously over battlefield earth.
“Not to despair, however. The close proximity of the enemy is not a
sign that God’s forces are losing, quite to the contrary. It represents an
advanced point in the progression of God’s plan for the harvest of souls.
God is intentionally bringing the evil ones in close to attack the faithful so
that the Holy Spirit within us will burn up the evil like chaff raked into the
fire at harvest, assuming they don’t respond to the Christian love and
forgiveness aimed in their direction in a positive way and accept God’s
grace and conversion. Those humans signed up to serve in the devil’s
army can still convert to Christ, and the Church continues to hope against
hope that they will. We will not be judging the evil ones, as only Christ
has that authority, but the harvest event will be spontaneously enacted
around us as we express our Christian faith in our daily lives.
“This magnificent spiritual event, as enormous as it is, nonetheless
remains fully discernible only to those the Lord has blessed with the gift
of discernment of spirits. An exception, of course, is the senseless horrible
violence in the news, which should serve as a sign of the demonic to
anyone capable of rational thought. Unfortunately, with Satan being free,
we can expect more of this kind of insanity.
“The ‘mark of the beast’ scenario is playing out in hidden fashion in
our modern world. It poses only a limited and invisible menace in
countries where freedom of religion is protected by rule of law and
constitutional government. Nonetheless, even in free societies, Christians
are being forcefully persecuted, albeit in subtle and hidden ways,
excluded wherever possible from influential jobs and positions of
achievement or social status through invisible machinations, sabotaged at
every turn via supernaturally coordinated prejudice, and even physical
obstruction and direct attack by supernatural forces.
“This is done in a thousand ways that, generally, only prayer can
defeat, but will defeat. The satanic community may (or may not) at times
invisibly predominate in various sectors of society, and the Satanists are
each willing to a greater or lesser extent to cooperate with the devil in
sabotaging our lives. Others, who have been overrun by the demons, are
manipulated to facilitate the devil’s plans. They are not consciously
intending to do evil, but they unknowingly get pulled into behaviors that
facilitate the devil’s agenda.”
*****
“Symbolism is another tool that adds richness to scripture. The
symbolism of the sun being darkened represents the change to our life
experience that will result from the heavy demonic incursion. Father
Gabriele Amorth, a noted author on the subject of spiritual warfare and
one of the most distinguished exorcists in the history of the Catholic
Church, remarked twenty years ago that the smoke of Satan had entered
everywhere.
“Amorth makes an ominous comment in his second book, An Exorcist:
More Stories, one that corresponds very closely with our view of the
current demonic incursion. ‘When I am asked how many demons there
are, I answer with the words that the demon himself spoke through a
demoniac: “We are so many that, if we were visible, we would darken the
sun.” ’63
“This has an eerie similarity to events in Revelation, including the
locusts being released from the pit, locusts with a scorpion’s tail that
torment those without God’s seal. Chapter nine of Revelation says the
locusts that come out of the abyss are led by the angel of death or
destruction, Abaddon, possibly another name for Satan. So, in both
Revelation chapters six and nine we have multiple symbols representing a
major demonic assault in the latter days.
“During that assault, the darkness of Satan’s oppression will encroach
upon all aspects of life, dampening our optimism and joy until we re-stoke
the fires of our faith. We will be living in a virtual darkness, a darkness of
the spirit. The moon’s turning to blood, in addition to any correlation to
physical astronomical signs, also symbolizes the incessant evil attacks and
tragedies spawned by the devil’s armies
“Our children are going to need extra nighttime prayers during this
tribulation, gestures of friendship, affection, and reassurance to defend
against demonic incursions into their sleep. Spiritual darkness has come
upon us unawares due to our collective sins and the moral decay of
society. Our children are not fully immune to it.
“It is like the story of the frog placed in a pot of water on the stove. If
the heat is turned up gradually, the frog is not alerted to danger until he is
paralyzed. The frog’s ‘goose’ is cooked, as it were, before he notices the
threat. When he does notice it, paralysis prevents his jumping out.
“Satan’s goal with phase one of his assault on the Church over the past
century has been much the same concept: produce a moral degradation in
society so gradual that no one is alarmed, and so pervasive that we
ultimately lose our sense of good and evil, and of sin itself.
“There’s no question. Modern society is suffering from boiled-frog
syndrome. We have become inured to the horrors occurring around us.
Since we take no corrective action, the devil remains free to further
sabotage our world, and with it our children’s future. Everywhere you
turn the devil and his supporters parade moral obscenities in plain view
unimpeded by a society so sick as to be incapable of moral outrage or
compassion. The unfortunate trend is that we have allowed the devil to
steal our faith in God, our self-confidence, our compassion, and our belief
in ourselves.
“Although Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Jr. may well be a
saint, the world tends to view his charismatic passion and fervor as a gift
unique to himself. The man was certainly unique, and thank God for him,
but spiritual gifts are available to anyone willing to apply them to the
Lord’s work. We are all capable, and we are all called to express that
same passion, the passion of Christ. Certainly Doctor King, himself, made
inspired and eloquent pleas to us to do exactly that. In my own
experience, outside of any personal sins Reverend King may have had, no
one so closely mirrored Christ’s own persona as did Doctor King.
“Scriptural truth reveals the situation to be quite different from our
current self-deprecating assumptions. ‘Jacob shall be a fire!’ We are
Jacob, God’s people. We are intended to be God’s stately warhorse in the
last battle!
“To our shame, we have permitted the devil to convince us that our
personal spiritual artillery, meant by God to be definitive in this final
confrontation with evil, only shoots blanks. This error must be corrected.
We must raise our heads and march forward. We must stop compromising
Christ’s victory. We must stop compromising the power and glory of God
and shine the brilliant light of Christ in our lives. This is absolutely
needed to offset the massive encroachment of darkness signified in
Revelation 6:12-13. Of course it’s a funny kind of war. It’s not about guns
and aggression, but love and forgiveness. As they say in the macho
movies, ‘Lock and load!’ Center yourself in the love of Christ and get out
there and start zapping people with it.”
*****
“Father,” Pam inquires, “why don’t we know the prophetic timeline
with certainty, why didn’t God just give the exact dates for these
important events? If we knew Christ was returning in ten years, we could
have that point of hope to help us through these most difficult times.”
“That’s a fair question,” Pam, “very fair, actually, but I think you will
be surprised at the answer.
“First of all, our hope should remain certain, whether we know the
date or not. By pure logic we know God is going to do the absolute best
thing at the best time. On the other hand, your point is well taken in
relation to human psychology. Having a certain end in view does help us
hold on through a grueling experience, to tough it out knowing the
hardship won’t last forever.
“Of course, God’s wisdom is greater than our own, and therefore
somewhat mysterious to us. Ironically, the strength of a situation can also
be a weakness. In this case, knowing the dates and duration of important
events like the tribulation, Armageddon, or our final deliverance by
Christ’s return would not only enable us to hold out, it would tempt us to
hold out. We would be tempted to do just enough to get by.
“God is trying to teach us to do more than that. He wants us to make a
full and permanent choice for good. Doing just enough for a few years to
get past judgment doesn’t produce that eternal resolve, and it doesn’t
accomplish the purification of our souls.
“There is another obstacle to God’s telling us the specific dates: it
defeats his purpose. This has to do with the fact that prophetic events are
not just independent event goals that God has deemed to be good in their
own right, events that would be just as good regardless of the time and
place that they occur. The major events of prophecy are primarily rewards
or punishments, and they are tools God uses to produce a specific result,
instruments of the harvest and purification.
“God has seen the future. He knows what we will do. But it simply
does not work to tell us that our reward or punishment is set for a specific
date when we have yet to do the things for which the reward or
punishment is issued. We are radically free persons and if we were told of
a certain reward being locked-in twenty years down the road there is
nothing preventing us from sitting down and resting twenty years, doing
nothing, or worse, doing evil. The nature of rewards and punishments
precludes announcing them in advance. If they are, the honest heartfelt
effort they are intended to reward may never take place, or a true
propensity for evil may never be disclosed out of fear of the
consequences. The purposes of both the harvest and eternal purification
are thwarted.
“Let’s imagine for a moment that God does tells us these things in
advance. He computes what is needed, tells us what he has decided, but
by telling us he causes a reaction on our part. Our reaction then introduces
a new element into the equation of what is needed. God must then
recompute what is best considering our reactions. This process could go
on indefinitely. One surprising reason why biblical prophecy is not
specific in terms of event prediction is because a behavioral axiom akin to
the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle applies: announcing rewards and
punishments in advance alters the situations they are intended to match,
causing an endless series of recomputations.
“The Catholic view of prophecy is that, with some rare exceptions
such as 1 Samuel chapter 2 verses 27-36 and the first five verses of 1
Kings chapter 13, it does not involve predicting the future. It involves
warnings and encouragements issued as types of positive or negative
event descriptions that loom on the horizon. These events are not usually
set in stone; they can typically be altered by humanity’s good or bad
behavior. When a prophecy is issued it is definitely time to pay attention,
however, and the appropriate response is always the same: we should
repent our sins with humility and return to a reverent friendship with
God.”
*****
“In prosecuting this last battle it is important to remember not to judge
our human opponents even as we struggle vigorously against them. As
Saint Paul says, our struggle is not with flesh and blood. We must
continue to pray for their conversion to Christ, while keeping a safe
distance as needed. God continues to hold out the grace of forgiveness
even to those who do battle with the Church. St. Paul, himself, once
discovered this, to his great joy. He persecuted the Church, of course,
from ignorance of the truth and with the good intention of preserving what
he erroneously believed to be the true and complete faith. We must never
forget that, with confession, repentance, and acceptance of Christ, all
manner of sin will be forgiven (Catechism of the Catholic Church 982,
1864). ‘If we acknowledge our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive
our sins and cleanse us from every wrongdoing.’ (1 John 1:9 NAB) We
must not fall prey to the temptation to judge others, no matter how bad
things get. We may judge their actions (as they may judge ours), but not
their souls. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church puts it (CCC.1861),
‘although we can judge that an act is in itself a grave offense, we must
entrust judgment of persons to the justice and mercy of God.’ “
“The one so called unforgivable sin, blasphemy against the Holy
Spirit, is defined as the refusal to repent and accept the mercy of God
through Christ unto one’s dying breath (CCC 1864), that is, it is defined
as final impenitence. Thus the only unforgivable sin occurs not because
God has marked some point in time action of ours as unforgivable—God
is willing to forgive any of our sins if we repent—but because the sinner
has freely chosen to deny that God’s Spirit is the essence of forgiveness
itself, to deny that God wishes to forgive, he or she essentially condemns
his or herself by refusing to repent when forgiveness is in fact available.
“To deny that God is forgiving is to deny Christ. Given the horrendous
suffering Christ endured on the cross so that we might be forgiven our
sins, to deny that God is a forgiving God is the most heinous affront to the
compassion and mercy of God. It is the most serious blasphemy or untruth
about God that one can be guilty of asserting.
“Anyone who will come to repentance can be saved regardless of their
past sins.* This includes even those who have once denied God’s
forgiving Spirit if they will revise their position, repent their sins, return to
the Church, and acknowledge God’s mercy.
“We may be forced by prudence to pray for our human opponents at a
safe distance, but we should never condemn them in our hearts. We do not
know the invisible demonic and emotional burdens they bear or the
fairness of the conditions of their childhoods and later path in life, etc. We
needn’t be naïve, reckless or imprudent, however; we don’t have to treat a
Satanist like a saint. Nonetheless, only God can judge.
“Just as we should never judge anyone else, we should also not judge
ourselves. One should never give up on his or herself. There is no action,
no statement, no emotion, no thought, no belief, no sin, that may occur at
any single point in time that is unforgivable, only an irresolvable
impenitence at the moment of death. Even the most hardened sinner who
sins throughout their entire life, even if they repent only at the last
moment of their life can be saved. (CCC 979)
“Our worst human enemy in this last battle, therefore, can still be
saved. The demons, of course, cannot. Their choice to rebel, made in the
divine realm outside of time, was made once and for all; it is irrevocable.
“And, of course, in another sense, our worst human enemy will always
remain, as has ever been the case, ourselves, our own propensity to sin.
As St. Paul comically and, simultaneously, almost tragically observed:
that which I choose not to do I do, and that which I choose to do, I do not.
*****
“We need not fear Armageddon, but neither should we ignore it.
Armageddon poses a genuine threat to our individual souls via many
routes. It constitutes a real threat to the viability of the Church and the
continuance of a free and moral society. As such, it must be aggressively
countered. This is done with prayer, worship, the Holy Sacraments,
increased devotion to God, and active service to the Church, with the
prosecution of just wars that oppose unjust military aggression, and with
aggressive social reform and charity. I will not attempt to define what is
or what is not a justifiable war, situations can be very complex. One must
consult God in prayer, consult his/her priests, and consult one’s own
conscience to answer that question in a given circumstance. The Catholic
Catechism offers good guidance on how to approach resolving the
question of which conflicts should be considered just wars and which
should not.
*****
“The current demonic surge, perhaps the last battle, may make it
appear that the dark days have returned, but not so. Christ’s victory is
both total and irrevocable, although it is still growing into its full
manifestation. We need merely affirm Christ’s victory in prayer, Church,
and our daily lives in order to participate in it. We absolutely do not have
to wrestle these demons, as psychologically satisfying as that might be at
times—considering the tragedy they have caused. They are simply too
big. They have a thousand unseen tentacles that will inevitably cause
harm to those around us if we are foolish enough to engage them directly
and react to their sucker’s bet invitation to a fist fight with entities
thousands of time more powerful than ourselves. We ignore them
completely, no matter how much that grab at us, and stay focused on the
light and love of Christ. It is a matter of light versus darkness, positive
versus negative. We win that struggle with love, which is the Spirit of
God.
“Don’t get me wrong; we should never fear them or permit ourselves
to be intimidated; God is on our side. By ignoring them we are not
running away; we are fighting smart. Prayer is simply a smarter way to
deal with demons than fisticuffs. Our attention provides the demon a
ticket into this world from the lower realms. Don’t give them that. Once
they get entry into us, they strike out at the people nearby through us.
They can infect the objects we touch, the material we write or paint, the
photographs and other media we produce; they can infest anything in this
world they get sufficient contact with.
“To prevent that, it is important to stay focused on positive aspects of
life, while not denying the genuine tragedies of this world. Better yet,
focus on the purely good aspects of heaven where there will be no
tragedy, suffering, or evil. That turns on the light of the Holy Spirit and
causes the demons to fall away back into the dark pit of hell they crawled
out of to take a swipe at us. They’ll claw at us a bit trying to hold on, but
we need only ignore them, turn to God in our hearts, and let them fall.
“Even people who are not actually possessed but merely oppressed
heavily by demons can be a sort of pariah to those around them, almost a
curse. But when someone is truly possessed the real trouble starts:
encounters with the dramatically supernatural, not just a hint of
paranormal bouquet.
“The senseless acts of family violence that are all over the news, the
campus shootings, homicidal road rage, apparently normal people ‘going
postal,’ etc. That’s where you look for demonic possession.
“Over fifty children die of abuse in their own home every year right
here in the little state of Indiana. The perpetrators of such horrible crimes
don’t necessarily need an exorcism to heal—prayer and fasting can do
it—but such extreme situations are more likely candidates for true
possession than someone who has merely joined a charismatic prayer
group and seeks help for serious but otherwise common emotional
concerns.
“Another indication of true possession is when previously faithful
people inexplicably begin to blaspheme God and exhibit an overpowering
aversion to the Church and the scripture. In such cases there is reason to
fear genuine possession.
“However, there is much we don’t know about the demonic activities.
The supernatural remains predominantly veiled and mysterious to human
perception. The devil may elect to employ very complex and subtle tactics
or he may use obvious direct attack. It may serve his purpose to conceal
his presence for a time in some cases. Visible indications aren’t always
going to be present twenty four hours of every day in all situations when
someone is demonically possessed. The only way to know for sure if
someone is possessed is for the bishop or priest to place the demon under
Christ’s authority in the Holy Rite of Exorcism. Only when the priest
wrings the truth out of the demon by the sheer power and authority of God
can the diagnosis be confirmed.”
“On the other hand, just because a person is not possessed does not
mean they might not benefit tremendously from properly performed
deliverance ministry. Nearly everyone these days is afflicted by demons
in one way or the other. Confronting demons directly within such
ministries, or otherwise, however, can produce a possession where none
previously existed! They have to be done right—prayer only. Otherwise,
even the prayer minister may become possessed.
“The demons need points of access to our world. But it is not a tunnel
from hell we are talking about, but a spiritual connection of some kind
with someone on earth. Confronting them, giving them our attention in
any way, builds a bridge in the spiritual dimension. Once that bridge is
built, only the authority of the bishop can restrain the criminal intent of
the purely evil and immensely powerful demonic forces that come across
it.
“Ironically, this same error is common to both sorcerers/witches and
deliverance ministers: thinking that the demons can be controlled by
humans outside the priesthood once contact is made. This is not true.
Control of a demon is not possible outside the bishop’s authority, and
that bishop must be within the direct line of apostolic succession from
the original apostles of Christ. Just assuming the title of bishop, even
within an otherwise legitimate church, is not enough.
“I wouldn’t go so far as to presume that Christ would not grant those
bishops charisms to do the same things, but the only known method to
receive Christ’s gift of authority over demons is to be in the line of
succession of the apostles, having the gift passed on via the laying on of
hands during ordination as bishop.
“An argument might be made, that, since Christians are given the
charismata appropriate to their position in the Church, all bishops would
have the same authority and power over the demons. That might be true,
but, since we don’t know that it is true, personally, to be sure, if I needed
or was recommending an exorcism I would consult the Catholic Church.
Some of the other churches also have bishops in the line of succession of
the apostles, but one would have to make a close study of things to be
certain. The safe bet is to avoid confrontational procedures unless a
Catholic priest-exorcist is in charge to whom the bishop has delegated his
authority over demons. And in those cases only the exorcist will be doing
the confrontation.
Fortunately there is a backup option that works in lieu of an exorcism
performed under the bishop’s authority: prayer and fasting with receipt of
the Holy Sacraments, especially Confession and the Eucharist. These
practices effect deliverance without an exorcism, and without any special
outside deliverance ministry. Deliverance can be done effectively in a doit-yourself approach, but we must remember that it is Christ acting
through the answer to prayer and through the Holy Sacraments that is
delivering us. He has the power and authority; we are just asking for help
and trusting in his goodness and love.
“Why redundantly belabor the point about withholding our attention
from the demons? Essentially, giving direct contact to a demon equates to
turning lions loose in the kindergarten. It is extremely dangerous and can
produce potentially tragic effects. From the point of their release into our
world through contact with a human being the demons do whatever they
choose. And, despite what some people believe, they cannot be controlled
by spells and incantations, though they can certainly be drummed up from
hell and brought into our world that way. Only the bishop and his priestexorcists can control a demon.
“It is therefore foolish and dangerous to participate in a deliverance
ministry that involves a confrontational approach to demons. A purely
prayer-centered therapy is the only safe approach. It is more foolish to
practice the dark arts of the occult, Black Magic, Voodoo, Satanism, etc.
Demons only want to destroy human beings, but they will pretend to be
good spirit guides and even God himself to get us to open the door to this
world for them. Don’t fall for it. Don’t interact with any spiritual being,
and pray to God for protection anytime one tries to interact with you. God
touches our hearts; he doesn’t have to talk our ear off. Demons may
pretend to be good spirits, say good things, and promise good things, but
they are not good; they are just good liars.
“It is even possible that our enemy, the devil, may arrange a
deliverance ministry situation with the express purpose of giving the
demons an opportunity to attack a good person, including the deliverance
minister(s), who is there trying to help deliver someone else. Satanists can
pretend to be Christians, and the spiritual war between the kingdoms does
rage around us even now, sometimes in subtle and deceptive ways. Better
to stick with prayer, and ignore the demons entirely. Confrontational
exorcism is always dangerous to all parties, but it could also be a trap. If
you or someone you know urgently needs exorcism, contact a priest
immediately.
“Certainly, we can refer difficult cases to the Church for exorcism as
required, but we are primarily called to pray the Our Father (the Lord’s
Prayer) and the Rosary to heal people of demonic affliction and to defeat
demonic attacks upon ourselves, our families and our communities. The
late Leon-Joseph Cardinal Suenens taught us the unstoppable power of the
Our Father, in his book Renewal and the Powers of Darkness. Fr.
Gabriele Amorth, Chief Exorcist of Rome, taught us in his books, An
Exorcist Tells His Story and An Exorcist: More Stories that exorcism will
at times be required, but only the bishops or priests that they delegate
must do them. Fr. Amorth rightly asserts that we need many more
exorcists to refurbish the depleted ministry of exorcism in this troubled
time.
“There is a lot of deliverance work to be done, but it must be done
right. We must now begin that work in earnest or risk our world
succumbing to a demonic overrun. Lay men and women can be of great
help in the deliverance of the people of their community by simply
praying for them. The institutional Church must advance its ministry of
exorcism on a more militant footing. As the scripture has always taught,
we must pray unceasingly. As long as Moses held his hand out over the
battlefield as an ongoing act of faith in God’s instructions, God’s people
were victorious (Exodus 17:8-16). We can do the same thing today with
prayer. Pray always.”
-------------------
AUTHOR’S NOTE: The symbolism resident in the events of Jacob Shall
Be a Fire portrays two obvious messages of prophetic warning, but Jacob
does not presume to predict the future as such. The first message is that
we can be profoundly deceived about what is really going on in our world
and must pray for the spiritual gift of discernment to be able to see the
truth. The second message is that God has been using terrorism to punish
Western societies for Satanism, immorality, materialism, and the
slaughter of 50 million children in abortion. He may use it yet again, if we
don’t correct these errors and turn back to God. I say this, not as a radical
terrorist threatening retaliation for abortion, but as a moderate law-abiding
Catholic who is merely commenting on the state of our world and reading
the prophetic signs. While I am not a terrorist there seems to be no
shortage of people who are, and there is ample biblical precedent for God
using other groups or nations to punish his people when they have done
egregious evil and refuse to repent. Homeland security seems to be doing
a great job, but it won’t be enough; we, the citizens, of the Western
nations have to return to Church and friendship with God and make a
major effort to “clean up our act,” as they say.
*NOTE: As Pope Francis recently commented to a gathering of priests
and bishops at the Apostolic Penitentiary (12 March 2015): “Let us never
forget, whether as penitents or as confessors: there is no sin that God
cannot forgive; not one.” This quote is taken from the Vatican Radio
story, "Pope Francis to Confessors: Be Authentically Merciful," 12 March
2015. The pope’s full remarks are posted to the Internet at
http://www.news.va/en/news/pope-francis-to-confessors-be-authentically-
mercif.
Other recent remarks of Pope Francis, in this case made in the chapel
of the Santa Marta residence in the Vatican following the readings at
Mass, are relevant here as well: “God always forgives, always – but He
asks me to forgive [others]. If I do not forgive, in a sense, I close the door
to God’s forgiveness.” This quote is taken from the Vatican Radio story,
"Pope Francis, to Receive Pardon, We Must Give Pardon," 10 March
2015. http://www.news.va/en/news/pope-francis-to-receive-pardon-wemust-give-pardon.
The point here is that, although there are no specific sins that cannot
be forgiven, there are ways to close the door to forgiveness. What has
been somewhat confusingly termed blasphemy against the Holy Spirit
closes the door to forgiveness by the refusal to allow that there is a loving
God waiting to forgive us when we repent our sins.
Refusing to admit that we have sinned is another way to close the door
to forgiveness. And a third way to close the door to forgiveness is to
refuse to forgive others.
The refusal to forgive and the refusal to admit that God wants to
forgive are both sins that can be forgiven as such—IF they are repented
with a contrite heart prior to progressing to a state of final impenitence.
This is why Christ says "blasphemy against the Holy Spirit" will not
be forgiven. It is not because it is a sin that God can't forgive, it is because
it is a state of mind that precludes a penitent spirit, which is itself a
prerequisite for forgiveness. A person that can obtain a penitent spirit can
be forgiven any sin at all, for God's mercy is infinite.
Repentance, as the pope reminds us, is more than just saying "excuse
me." Having seriously sinned, we cannot just say "excuse me" as if we
had bumped into someone on the bus. We have to throw ourselves upon
God's mercy as the perpetrator of a crime for which there is no excuse
available, only mercy and forgiveness. To obtain God’s forgiveness for
serious sins we must humble ourselves like a child who has done
something very bad and knows it. “Unless you become as one of these
little ones…”
The wording of typical translations of this biblical passage could be
improved as they do seem to suggest that there is a sin that God will never
forgive a person, even should they properly repent. That is not true:
proper repentance, that is, a person asking forgiveness with a penitent
spirit, always brings God’s forgiveness. The passage would be less
misunderstood if it were expanded to say "Those who deny that the Spirit
of God is love and forgiveness itself, who deny that their God is a
forgiving God, commit a sin that implies the existence of a state of the
mind and soul that can produce an impenitence that precludes forgiveness.
Such persons do not have forgiveness and mercy in themselves or they
would understand that God is merciful and forgiving. This sin will not be
forgiven either in this world or the next if that impenitence reaches such
severity that it becomes final." The Catechism of the Catholic Church
basically has already said as much, but non-Catholics would benefit from
a clarifying edit to the text of the Bible itself.
So much meaning was condensed into the few words of the original
Hebrew that a simple direct act of linguistic translation would not be able
to justify reaching to the fullness of the depth of meaning that was
intended by the divinely inspired author. The clarification might therefore
have to be done in the catechisms of the other churches instead of in the
text of the Bible, done by way of exposition as opposed to translation,
placing the passage in the full context of Christ’s entire message.
There are multiple passages occurring throughout the Bible that
explicitly state that God will forgive all sins. Placed into the larger
context of the complete Bible, the wording of this “blasphemy against the
Holy Spirit” passage should then be understood as we have discussed, not
as an exception to the rule that all sins can be forgiven, given repentance.
The passage is identifying a situation where repentance is precluded by a
recalcitrant refusal to acknowledge that the Spirit of God is love and
forgiveness itself.
I have belabored this point, but it is a very important distinction to
make because some people are laboring under the misconception that they
or others they know have committed a special category of sin that cannot
be forgiven. They believe they are therefore doomed to hell regardless of
whether they seek God's forgiveness or not. This a tortuous and terrible
false burden for someone to have to carry through life, feeling they are
doomed to hell and nothing can be done to save them.
It is incumbent upon all Christians therefore to do what they can to
dispel this false belief wherever they find it. Theologies that teach that
people can be condemned for certain sins beyond hope of God’s
forgiveness while they still live on earth are seriously wrong and need to
be corrected.
All sins will be forgiven, if we ask God with a penitent spirit, aware
that we have done something wrong. A penitent spirit means that we are
genuinely sorry to have offended God and injured the community by sin,
and resolve to do our best to avoid sin in the future. It does not require us
to be confident in our personal ability to avoid sin in the future, nearly
everyone stumbles and has a recurrence now and then. It only requires us
to be willing to try to avoid sin and to ask for God’s help to make us
stronger so that we improve as time goes on, ultimately reaching a point
where we have become strong enough that serious sin doesn’t recur.
Most if not all people will continue to have minor sins, but God
forgives those minor sins in our nightly prayers and in the Catholic Mass
and the worship services of the other faiths. Full absolution for serious
sins requires direct confession, contrition, penance, and often a follow-on
period of expiation (breaking the psychological, physical, and emotional
attachment to the sinful practice). It is not easy to break a long held habit,
but God gives us additional strength and help when we pray for it. These
battles against long-term sin can be won if we turn to God for help, and
will be won by those who do turn to God for help. It does take patience,
however, and there may be many slips where sins recur along the way, but
God continues to forgive and is committed to help us as long as we are
willing to try again.
God loves us with the unconditional, infinite, divine love of a perfect
father. He always forgives if we are genuinely sorry and mean to do
better. “Unless you become as one of these little ones…” To beat sin we
have to realize that we have a divine Father in heaven who is perfectly
good. To him, although we may be distinguished adults here on earth, we
are still children in the growing process. For humans to reach perfect and
permanent goodness a long patient journey of personal growth is
necessary, just as it is for human children trying to grow up into good
adults. In this journey too, we need our Father’s help at many points along
the way. We should therefore not be reticent to ask for that help; it always
comes when we do ask. We must approach God as a child approaches his
or her parent and assume the humility of an imperfect child who knows
they are imperfect and wants to do better.
APPENDIX 2
Is This Left Behind Theology?
No. Jacob Shall Be a Fire is based upon Catholic theology. Many
readers will already know that the Catholic view of the end times differs
substantially from the theology that underlies the Left Behind series of
novels. While the Left Behind series of Christian novels has captured the
imagination of millions, undoubtedly brought many people to Christ, and
helped us in the materialist Western societies refocus on spiritual values,
Left Behind theology, unfortunately, contains several major errors.
I should make clear up front, for those who skim and don’t read
carefully, that the Catholic view of the end times eliminates neither the
Parousia event of 1 Thessalonians 4 (called “the Rapture” in Left Behind)
or the thousand-year reign of Christ; it simply sees the first occurring at
the very moment of Christ’s return for final judgment, and views the
second as a glorious event that has been ongoing since Christ’s victory on
the cross, with Christ reigning from heaven, not on Earth. The Catholic
view omits none of the key events of eschatological scripture.
In the rapture concept of Left Behind, Christ is said to return to pull
Christians out of the tribulation and then, when it is over, establish a
thousand year reign on earth. In direct opposition to this is the Catholic
teaching, which asserts that it is our strength of faith that will save us
from the tribulation (Ephesians 6:11-16 NAB; Luke 21:35-36 NAB), not a
removal event, and that carrying our own cross and sharing in Christ’s
suffering is such a core concept of our faith that suffering through the
tribulation makes more sense for Christians than being pulled out of it. In
addition, in Catholic theology Christ’s thousand-year reign is conducted
ou
from heaven (see the Catechism of the Catholic Church at 1029), and of
course from the new creation that follows final judgment, not from this
earth. Finally, Left Behind involves a total of three appearances of Christ
in human history, as opposed to the traditional two of Catholic theology.
Protestants may want to ask, “But does the Catholic view make
biblical sense?” I am a former Methodist, myself. I grew up assuming a
Left Behind-like theology that I just absorbed from local popular theology:
it wasn’t taught by the Methodist Church, and I am not actually sure what
the Methodist Church does teach on the subject. I have been a Catholic
now for ten thrilling years, and having made an effort to look into what
the Bible teaches on the question of a rapture that delivers Christians from
the tribulation and of a thousand year reign of Christ on earth. I began
with several mistaken assumptions of my own, and early versions of this
book had some of those mistakes included.
I think the Catholic end times theology does make biblical sense. What
the Catholic view doesn’t do is give as many neat and clean, simple and
easy answers to some of our questions about what we can expect to
happen in the latter days based upon biblical prophecy. The Catholic
answers make more sense, but they are, at first glance, more complex
answers. However, as we are about to see, if one tries to make the
concepts of a Rapture and a thousand year reign of Christ on earth
compatible with other related passages in the Bible, the thought process
gets even more complex in a hurry, and it turns out the Bible, all things
considered, does not support either concept.
Here are my personal thoughts on the subject of end times theology,
and more specifically, the problems I see with Left Behind theology. The
reader is encouraged to compare my discussion to the works of competent
theologians such as Dr. Paul Thigpen’s Rapture Trap & Pope Emeritus
Benedict XVI’s Eschatology.
First off, I would like to ask the reader to consider a biblical passage
that seems to me, at least, to straightforwardly say that there will be only
two appearances of Christ in human history:
But now once for all he has appeared at the end of the ages to
take away sin by his sacrifice. Just as it is appointed that
human beings die once, and after this the judgment, so also
Christ, offered once to take away the sins of many, will
appear a second time, not to take away sin but to bring
salvation to those who eagerly await him. (Hebrews 9:26-28)
This passage is straightforward, so I will leave it stand on its own
merits without further comment.
Next we must consider the glaring problem of anyone’s being “left
behind” at all. This would seem to contradict the very essence of
Christianity. Christ suffered and died on the cross for the express purpose
to ensure that no one be left behind. Jesus’ description of his mission in
his own words reveals that he came to save sinners, to include them, not
to exclude them. St. Paul reflects this: “This is good and pleasing to God
our savior, who wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of
the truth.” (1 Timothy 2:3-4)
Christ suffered a most tortuous death to prove his point. He is,
therefore, not going to leave anyone behind until the ultimately
unavoidable act of judgment. Scripture affirms that Jesus will not let any
of His Father’s children go. He, therefore, is “not leaving any of them
behind!” (Ezekiel 39:28) We are destined not for wrath but salvation. (1
Thessalonians 5:9).
Pope Benedict XVI’s discussion of the importance of Deuteronomy
33:18-23 (RSV) to the understanding of the person of Christ, given in the
first chapter of his book, Jesus of Nazareth,64 reveals, by logical
implication, that such a rapture as Left Behind posits could not take place
as an intermediate event preceding judgment without extraordinary
dispensations made by the Lord for our purification. How so?
Put simply: we are not worthy of it, or, less harshly put, not yet ready.
Our God is a God of mercy and forgiveness. At the same time he is pure
and holy and we cannot approach him minus his invitation and minus
special preparations for temporary or permanent purification. “When I
summon him, he shall approach me; how else should one take the deadly
ou
risk of approaching me?” (Jeremiah 30:21) Leviticus 10:1-3 tells of
Aaron’s own sons being consumed by holy fire for approaching God in an
unholy manner. The footnote to this passage in the New American Bible
says that “the presence of God is so sacred that it strikes dead those who
approach him without the proper holiness.” The New Testament confirms
this at 1 Timothy 6:16: “ the King of kings and Lord of lords, who alone
has immortality, who dwells in unapproachable light, and whom no
human being has seen or can see.”
In Deuteronomy 33 it is made clear that sinful man cannot see the face
of God. Even Moses was refused this privilege. Are we of the latter days
and the great apostasy to take precedence over Moses? Probably not.
Given this purification problem, neither a thousand-year reign can take
place involving Christ’s immediate presence on earth nor a rapturous
meeting with God in the sky, if either event involves humanity standing in
the direct presence of God (seeing His face, as it were) prior to some form
of divine purification event. The only known event of that type that
affects masses of people that is documented in the Bible is the event of
final judgment.
One might call this limitation the Moses dilemma, as even Moses was
not allowed to see the face of God. Psalm 68 at verse 19 restates the
problem from a slightly different angle: “No rebels can live in the
presence of God.” We are all sinners, even Moses, and therefore rebels in
regard to our refusing to live as God has proscribed. While Baptism
washed away our guilt from original sin, we still have a propensity to sin,
we are still sinners or rebels by nature as it were, and that propensity to
sin won’t be removed until we are remade in glorified form at the final
judgment.
Other passages support the validity of the Moses dilemma as we have
called it, such as the transformation of Christ on Mt. Tabor (Mark 9:2-8;
CCC 2583) where Elijah and Moses appeared and spoke with Jesus.
When Christ’s disciples initially “saw” Elijah and Moses conversing with
Jesus after his transformation they were terrified. Then a cloud cast a
shadow over them. From the cloud came the voice of God the Father
telling them to listen to Jesus, and then they did not see anyone but Jesus
with them (apparently back in his earthly human form).
Due to the high esteem in which they were held by God as Christ’s
disciples, they were permitted to remain at the threshold of God’s
Glorious Presence without fully entering God’s presence. They were
permitted to be as close to God as they could be without causing their
destruction. Perhaps this is why they became terrified, and perhaps why
God the Father then mercifully cloaked them in the cloud and ended the
encounter. “Too close for comfort,” as the saying goes.
We sinners could stand in the presence of the human Jesus, yes, but
the time of Jesus on earth in truly human form is over. When he returns it
will be in the glorified form. The primary reference Left Behind
proponents cite for the Parousia, 1 Thessalonians 4, has the Lord shouting
his words of command with the voice of an archangel. This is not the
quiet, humble, subservient sacrificial lamb, Jesus, of the first century
passion victory on the cross, but the risen and glorified Christ, the second
divine person of the Holy Trinity that is the one, true, and almighty God!
Who will stand in his presence except as permitted for the purpose of final
judgment itself?
That poses the first leg of the two-legged dilemma faced by Left
Behind theology: the final purification of judgment must occur first or
sinful man will perish in the presence of God.
Left Behind theology can potentially avoid this first leg of the dilemma
by assuming that the event of a literal first resurrection is integral to the
rapture (as they define the rapture as an intermediate appearance of Christ
on earth prior to final judgment). Given that assumption, raptured
individuals who have partaken in the first resurrection in theory might
then be considered individually judged and purified sufficient for God’s
purposes of a thousand year reign on earth. Fundamentalist Christians of
the Left Behind camp, however, usually deny that there is an individual
judgment that occurs when we die. They only affirm the larger event of
final judgment after the full resurrection.
The Catholic teaching is that the so-called “rapture” event found at 1
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Thessalonians 4 is the beginning of the event of final judgment itself, not
an intermediate appearance of Christ for a thousand year reign on this
earth that precedes final judgment. (CCC 1001) This can confuse casual
students of prophetic theology who read both Catholic and non-Catholic
literature because believers in Left Behind theology will call their
hypothesized intermediate appearance of Christ for the “rapture” the same
thing that Catholics call Christ’s return for final judgment: “the Parousia.”
Indeed, we tell you this, on the word of the Lord, that we
who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will
surely not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the lord
himself, with a word of command, with the voice of an
archangel and with the trumpet of God, will come down from
heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who
are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them
in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. Thus we shall
always be with the Lord. (1 Thessalonians 4:15-17)
Note that Christians are caught up in the air with Christ and will
always be with him. Nothing is said about coming back down to earth.
The Catholic view of 1 Thessalonians 4:15-17, then, is that it is final
judgment, not an intermediate rapture followed by a thousand year reign
of Christ on earth.
There is a category mistake involved in assuming that an infinite
heaven or an infinite being from heaven could descend to a corrupted and
finite earthly realm. Heaven, being by far the greater dimension, infinite
in all positive aspects including holiness, goodness and purity, and
spiritual in essence cannot descend to the physical, limited and morally
impure earth. Earth cannot contain the Glory of God. Such an event
invokes both an ontological and a moral incompatibility. His realm can
contain us, once we are purified, but our realm cannot contain him. Again
notice that in the above passage, we are caught up in the air, God does not
descend to earth to institute an earthly kingdom.
The finite cannot contain the infinite. To paraphrase what God himself
says in the scripture, what kind of house will you build for me that could
contain me, the heavens are my throne and the earth is my footstool
(Isaiah 66:1).
Thus God as God in his full glory cannot descend to this earth for a
thousand year reign; he can only do that after the new glorified creation
has come following final judgment. That creation will be of a spiritual
essence and we will be purified and glorified sufficiently that we are
permitted to stand in the presence of God. We will have entered into close
communion with God in the Spirit and the new creation while still a
creation, won’t be a separate, or perhaps “separated” is a better word,
creation at all, it will be integral with the larger Spirit of God. The new
creation won’t contain God, God will contain it.
Christ’s attitude towards this world was never complimentary in
regard to its current state, although the creation is acknowledged to have
been created good initially and the creatures are wholesome. “My
kingdom is not of this world” “Do not place your treasures on earth.”
These kinds of comments and many others reveal a consistent disparaging
of all things earthly relative to the incorruptible and infinite perfection of
heaven, “Those who hate their (earthly) life will gain it (in heaven and the
new world),” and so on. [My parenthetical clarifications]
This world carries an enormous burden of sin and abominable
behavior. It is contaminated from centuries of sin and the putrid overtures
and contrivances of Satan. Leviticus 18 makes graphically clear that the
land has become defiled with man’s sins and requires purification.
Given the amount of access our sins and occult practices have given
them, demons have infested physical objects on a mass scale all around
the globe. This earth has to be burned, purified in holy fire; the scripture
affirms this.
Ultimately we have to face the fact that Christ’s own stated intention is
not to renew this earth when he returns, but to burn it and transform it into
a new one: “I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were
already blazing.” (Luke 12:49) One might interpret this comment about
setting the earth on fire as referring to the arrival of the Holy Spirit, the
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majestic event that began at Pentecost when God poured out abundant
blessings on St. Mary and the apostles. And so it probably does mean, and
certainly there is a renewal associated with the spread of the Holy Spirit,
but it is not a renewal that makes this earth into paradise; it is a renewal
that helps reform people to make them ready for heaven and the new
world that will be paradise. Another thing that fire of the Holy Spirit does
is purify evil from the souls of Christian people, commencing the
purification process integral to the larger events of the harvest and
judgment that end with the total destruction of the physical earth in an allconsuming fire.
“The present heavens and earth have been reserved by the same word
for fire, kept for the day of judgment and of destruction of the godless.” (2
Peter 3:7) This seems to leave little room for an enormous renewal of this
creation. While Christians are renewed by the Holy Spirit, the entirety of
physical creation is not renewed in full, a residual burden of demonic
infestation produced by man’s accumulated sin remains. We acknowledge
in the Church’s liturgy that the Lord “renews the face of the earth,” but
that is less than the full purification required to cleanse the earth from the
effects of millenniums of heinous sins.
The scripture affirms that nothing negative, no sins, no sorrows, no
sufferings, no imperfections, no bad memories, no failures, no
embarrassing moments, no negatives of any kind will follow us to heaven
or the new creation. Faith, hope and love are all that we take with us. All
sins and negatives will be forgotten and forgiven. (Isaiah 65:17-18)
But if negatives can’t go to the pure goodness of heaven, how is it that
heaven is going to come down to the negatives? Should raptured
individuals return to earth, they would, presumably, encounter people who
would remember the negatives of the former lives of those raptured and
those people would themselves be manifesting negatives. But those
raptured have already left all such things behind. They would have to be
purified to meet God “in the air.” They have entered the divine immortal
realm where such things are not only forgiven, but forgotten, eternally
taken away, divinely erased, washed from the record by the blood of
Christ.
To solve this dilemma for rapture theology, Christ could, perhaps,
segregate some people from others. New Jerusalem could be segregated
from the rest of the sinful world. But, if Christ and his followers are to be
fully segregated from the rest of the earth, why bring them down here at
all? It is a step down for them. They are already in a higher realm, and
they could not interact with anything here because of the impurity.
Beyond that everything on this earth and in this physical universe is
corruptible in its very nature (and too often, corrupted). Consequently,
Christ’s glorified and perfect 1,000-year kingdom could not be
instantiated here on the physical earth without fully purifying the earth
and fully transforming it. But in Revelation 20-22 we see that final
judgment occurs before the recreation of the new world, and St. Peter tells
us that the purifying fire of judgment won’t leave this earth intact; it will
dissolve the very elements themselves. (2 Peter 3:10) The full context of
the Bible tells us that the purification required for this earth is so grave
that it does not allow for the earth’s continued existence in its present
physical form.
Proponents of Left Behind theology may counter that in their view
final judgment does occur first, but it happens in two parts: the dead in
Christ will rise first for the first resurrection and the thousand year reign
on earth will then take place. After the thousand year reign, those who
were not saved will rise to complete the resurrection but go off to eternal
damnation.
That would solve the purification problem and the chronological
sequence of events problem but it doesn’t solve the incompatibility
problems. God cannot descend to reign on this earth. Those saved must
rise to enter a new pure spiritual kingdom “not of this earth,” to use one of
Jesus own phrases for his kingdom.
If we say the earth has in fact been recreated in purified spiritual form
at that point the thousand year reign just becomes a redundant event. It is
not really a separate reign on this earth, it is merely the beginning of
Christ’s eternal reign after judgment on the new earth, a new earth which
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is a creation of spiritual essence contained within the Spirit of God.
The only thing that Left Behind theology would be saying in that case,
beyond the fact that Christians are raptured out of the tribulation event, is
that final judgment occurs in two parts: the dead in Christ rise first and
then, following the creation of the new world and a thousand years of
Christ reigning in it, the damned are raised to be condemned to hell. That
difference would hardly seem to be worth all the trouble of the debates
over Left Behind theology vs. Catholic and other theologies.
To resolve the moral and ontological incompatibilities, or if you prefer
simpler language, to solve the purity/impurity and infinite/finite problems,
Left Behind theology must be gutted to the extent that it isn’t saying
enough to warrant being labeled a separate theology at all. The
intermediate appearance of Christ disappears when the Rapture event
becomes final judgment, and the eschatological model only requires two
appearances of Christ in human history the same as the Catholic model.
At this point we can see why the Catholic view makes sense. It solves
the ontological and moral incompatibility problems, the pure/impure,
finite/infinite problems.
Hebrews 11:13-16 tells us that the final homeland that God has
prepared for his people, a Promised Land far greater than the one God
promised the patriarchs and martyrs, is heaven. The footnote to Hebrews
3:7-4:13 (NAB) indicates that the promise given Abraham, Moses, and
the patriarchs of the Promised Land foreshadows the Christian promise of
arriving at the greater divine peace of heaven. In other words, we don’t
need a thousand year reign of Christ on earth to satisfy the symbolic and
eschatological senses of the biblical term “Promised Land.” Heaven does
that, as does the new creation following final judgment.
There are additional scriptural references to support the Catholic view.
In Matthew 24:40-41, for example (“ . . . one will be taken and one will be
left”), which may seem to suggest a rapture, the preceding verses,
specifically 24:3, 6, and 14, explicitly cite “the end” as the event being
described, in other words, final judgment.
Another convincing argument against an intermediate appearance of
Christ in human history for a rapture event is the simple fact that when
Christ’s disciples, some of whom at least possessed substantial gifts of
prophecy, asked him what the signs of his return would be, they
intuitively connected the Lord’s return with the end of the world. Nor did
Christ correct them and brighten their thoughts with a promise of an
earlier appearance for a joyous thousand years of paradise on earth. He
would certainly have done this had it been possible, for he had such an
intense and intimate bond of friendship with his twelve disciples that the
thought of their impending separation caused them all real anguish.
Perhaps even more definitive is Matthew 24:3-14, where Christ lists a
number of events in sequence, none of which are the Lord’s return for an
intermediate rapture, then says “then shall the end come.” Here Christ,
himself, has left no room for his second coming except at the end.
The author of 2 Peter at chapter 3 rebuffs scoffers who are asking
“Where is the Lord of the Christian faith?” He does this by saying that it
is a known fact that the world must be destroyed by fire upon Christ’s
return and that Christ delays in order to facilitate our repentance
beforehand. The scoffers could have been rebutted by a reference to the
Lord’s earlier return for a 1,000 year reign on earth, but no such
intermediate appearance is mentioned.
This reveals that the author of 2 Peter 3 is not aware of there being
another event of Christ’s appearance prior to final judgment and the
creation of the new world. Here final judgment and total purification by
fire is tied to the Lord’s next appearance, the appearance that will soonest
prove the scoffers mistaken.
St. Paul does very much the same thing at 1 Corinthians 15:22-24,
seemingly leaving no room for the intermediate appearance of Christ for
the rapture of Left Behind theology. Here we see Christ reigning from
heaven from the moment of his resurrection. He is shown battling his
enemies, the sovereignties, authorities, and (demonic) powers until they
are finally all placed under his feet whereupon he returns for judgment.
The event scenario portrayed here leaves no room for Christ returning to
earth to reign over 1,000 years of paradise here.
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And to me at least there is an argument to be made from the fact that
the “day of the Lord,” that is, any day of the Lord’s appearance on earth,
is simply an event worth mentioning! Yet there is only one “day of the
Lord” in the Bible that involves the direct presence of God. That is the
eschatological sense that is tied to final judgment. One might want to say
that 1 Thessalonians 4 is an exception, but it does not mention anyone
coming back down after being caught up in the air with Christ during the
Rapture, and therefore seems to be final judgment. This reading suggests
that when Christ returns for final judgment he will not be walking the
streets again in human form, but only making a “near approach” in the
spiritual dimension (and in glorified form), most likely due to the fact that
our world is so heavily contaminated by sin.
There is another sense of the phrase “day of the Lord” in the Old
Testament, for example at Isaiah 13:6-8 NABRE where it represents the
day of God’s victory or justice against Israel’s enemies. But this does not
involve the direct presence of God.
Consider again 2 Peter 3:10-12.
But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the
heavens will pass away with a mighty roar, and the elements
will be dissolved by fire, and the earth and everything done
on it will be found out.
Since everything is to be dissolved in this way, what sort of
persons ought [you] to be, conducting yourselves in holiness
and devotion, waiting for and hastening the coming of the
day of God, because of which the heavens will be dissolved
in flames and the elements melted by fire.
Note here that no mention is made of preparing ourselves for an earlier
appearance of the Lord for a thousand year reign on Earth. But we would
certainly have to do that, and we would certainly want to do it; so why
wouldn’t scripture warn us to do it? One would think if only the faithful
participate in the thousand year reign, the harvest is over, the wheat and
chaff have been separated, and so any opportunity we have to prepare for
the Lord’s return would occur before the Rapture posited by Left Behind
theology, yet that Rapture is not mentioned as the milestone driving our
preparations. This passage therefore strongly suggests there is no Rapture
involving an intermediate appearance of Christ.
In this same passage, 2 Peter 3:10-12, we are being told to prepare for
the next return of Christ, but that next return involves the total destruction
of our world. This leaves no opportunity for a thousand year reign to
occur on Earth.
There is a further point to consider. Christ said that people would
ignore the signs of the end right up to the moment he returned for final
judgment, that the signs of the end would either be so subtle as to be
ignored, such as Noah building the Ark, or that the evil ones would
obstinately ignore even the dramatic signs. This precept alone rules out a
magnificent earthly reign of Christ for a thousand years, for such an event
could hardly go unnoticed.
If Christ in his glorified form is reigning over the earth for one’s entire
lifetime, that sign won’t be missed. Left Behind defenders can only say
here, well, the evil ones will already be gone. They will have been
destroyed in the final phase of the tribulation that Christians were lifted
out of, or they will be physically segregated.
However, in the case of physical segregation, if the risen and glorified
Christ were to be present among the evil ones in his full glory (prior to
judgment) for a thousand-year reign, the effect would be startling, not
subtle. If the evil ones are already gone, final judgment has occurred for
all intents and purposes, so what is the purpose of Christ holding a
thousand year reign here on a world he said he can’t wait to set in flames
and St. Peter said would be destroyed by fire. If the world is good enough
to host the Lord God for a thousand years, why would it have to be
destroyed?
There is, then, no purpose in bringing heaven down to earth for a
1,000 year reign—not under any scenario one might imagine. Any evil
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ones who might remain here aren’t permitted to have heaven on earth. If
we assume a Rapture scenario, the good who have been raptured are with
Christ in heaven and already have heaven there “in the air.” And in a
scenario where there are good people remaining on Earth, they must finish
carrying their cross in an imperfect world of trials and tribulations in order
to achieve the purification requisite to going to heaven.
Although God’s people on earth merit salvation, we do so only
through Christ. This entails sharing his suffering. We must follow him,
carry our own cross, and be purified in suffering. That purification
process, which is the defining essence of the Christian faith, the
willingness to carry one’s own cross, would be preempted by a 1,000
years of paradise on earth because the entire lifetimes of many
generations would be free of any suffering whatsoever. That wouldn’t be
a Christian world. Births and deaths would have to be put on hold for the
1,000 years. Yes, God could do it; but what is gained from doing it? If the
human experience of birth and death is over, why not just get on with the
final judgment and move to the eternal world?
More and more readers are probably beginning to see how the Catholic
view makes sense now that we have progressed a bit further, because it
makes short work of all of these complications. In the Catholic view the
1,000 year reign symbolizes the eternal reign of Christ, beginning from
the moment of his ascension into heaven through the creation and eternal
duration of the new world created after final judgment. A thousand years
in biblical terminology symbolizes any very long period of time,
including an infinite period of time.
The Catholic view makes even more sense when we consider how
central the experience of suffering is to the Christian faith, the experience
of carrying our own cross for Christ, who carried his for us. To be lifted
out of the tribulation instead of bearing up under our cross and suffering
through it, contradicts the central concept of Christianity.
1 Peter 4:12-13: “Beloved, do not be surprised that a trial by fire is
occurring among you, as if something strange were happening to you. But
rejoice to the extent that you share in the sufferings of Christ, so that
when his glory is revealed you may also rejoice exultantly.”
If we are to be purified by “trial by fire,” and if we have more cause to
rejoice the more we share in Christ’s sufferings, why does it make sense
to pull Christians out of the tribulation when Christ himself was tortured
to death? St. Peter (by traditional belief) likewise suffered unto death,
crucified upside down, and countless others of the faithful have been
tortured and slaughtered for their faith in God, including St. Paul and
others of the apostles? Are we living here in decadent modern times or
Christians of the future better or more deserving than those early Christian
martyrs? Are we less in need of purification than they? No. Not a chance.
We will not be spared our own cross.
And when it is all over, we would not want to have been spared. We
will have the satisfaction of knowing we shared in Christ’s suffering, and
we will have a substantially greater reward in heaven accrued from having
shared his suffering.
We should also note the obvious: the descent of New Jerusalem at
Revelation 20-22 does not show the holy city resting on the old earth.
Rather its descent is immediately preceded by the purifying fires of
judgment, followed by the appearance of a new earth. The old corrupt
creation flees from the advancing presence of the thrice-holy God and
perishes in eternal purifying fire. The holy city comes to rest only upon
the new creation.
God’s announcement at Revelation 21:3 is also relevant to the rapture
and thousand year reign questions. The statement there, “Behold, God’s
dwelling is with the human race. He will dwell with them and they will be
his people,” seems clearly to indicate that no previous dwelling of God
with men on earth has taken place. Else, why the “Behold!”? What’s the
big surprise? It has already been going on for a thousand years. This verse
alone would seem to rule out a thousand-year reign of Christ on earth
prior to final judgment.
Nothing of the primary Christian beliefs is lost in the Catholic view.
The first resurrection is real enough for Catholics in the mysterious
Augustinian sense. In that sense Christians have died to this world and are
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resurrected as spiritually reborn persons through Christ. We participate in
his resurrection and in his reign even now as long as we stay in
communion with the Church. This is done by avoiding sin, and by going
to Confession when we don’t manage to avoid sin. Those who have been
in communion with the Church have participated in Christ’s glorious
thousand-year reign since his resurrection and ascension. (Colossians
2:12-13; Romans 6:3-11; Ephesians 2:5-6)
Different people have different gifts, but in our own unique ways we at
times are permitted to share in Christ’s heavenly life. These are rare but
very blessed moments. (Galatians 2:5-6; Ephesians 2:5-6)
In an appeal to common sense, one can also say that the Catholic view
incorporates the reason that kings have thrones. It is, after all, to raise
them to a higher point above their subjects. Thrones symbolize the fact
that good kings reign from the higher spiritual ground of full moral
authority. The most perfect and purest realization of the concept of
kingship is, of course, Christ himself, and the highest and purest
moral/spiritual ground is in heaven, by definition. Christ, therefore, reigns
from heaven, not from earth. (Psalm 103:19 NAB)
Another less than direct, but still suggestive, proof of the Catholic
view can be found in Revelation 5. Here the seven spirits are sent out into
the world, and God’s people, made a kingdom of priests through Christ
blood on the cross, are reigning on earth. God, himself, however remains
on his throne in heaven.
Still other scriptural passages argue the Catholic view. Plausible
interpretations compatible with other views can be given for some of
these passages, but, as with all of scripture, they are worthy of additional
study and consideration.
For example, the Left Behind version of the rapture event removes
Christians from the tribulation in contravention of the fact that the
scripture makes clear that we will be here for it. St. Paul says in Ephesians
6 that we will need the armor of God to stand in the “evil day.” We will,
therefore, be here for the “evil day,” not absent via an intermediate
rapture. And what would that evil day be if not the tribulation?
Armageddon, perhaps? Perhaps. But St. John’s words to the church in
Smyrna at Revelation 2:9-10 reveal that the church there was already
undergoing tribulation in the first century. Matthew 24:20-22 also
explicitly places the elect in the tribulation, not out of it: “for at that time
there will be great tribulation, such as has not been since the beginning of
the world until now, nor ever will be. And if those days had not been
shortened, no one would be saved; but for the sake of the elect they will
be shortened.” Why shorten the days of the tribulation for the sake of the
elect if the elect will be pulled out before it gets too bad?
Furthermore, as Dr. Paul Thigpen points out (citing Matthew 24:13)
the tribulation is an element essential to completing the functions of the
harvest and therefore unavoidable. Those who endure until the end, those
who persevere through the trial of persecution will be saved, not those
who are miraculously removed via a rapture.65 Those who skip class don’t
learn the lesson and don’t pass the course.
The Catholic Church teaches that the meaning of prophecy becomes
clear to those living at the time of the enactment of the prophesied event.
Exposition of prophecy is best done concerning the present, not the future.
Jeremiah 30:24: “When the time comes, you will fully understand.”
Pope Benedict XVI (writing as Cardinal Ratzinger) in the
“Theological Commentary” in The Message of Fatima, affirms this.66
Gaining understanding of the meaning of a prophetic event at the time it
occurs, requires, of course, that one’s theological framework is properly
informed by study, and that prayer and careful discernment are employed.
The novel, Jacob Shall Be a Fire, basically poses an argument from
the gift of spiritual discernment. It says, “Hey, get up and take a close
look at the world outside, and take prayer and spiritual discernment with
you. You may be surprised by what you see once the Lord gives you eyes
that see and ears that hear.”
Regardless of what interpretation of present events turns out to be
most correct, things have clearly become intense enough that we should
be praying for the gift of discernment of spirits. I honestly believe that
that gift will inevitably lead people to the Catholic theology over time.
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Jesus himself, at Luke 21:35-36, gives what is perhaps the most
definitive statement that Christians will have to endure the tribulation
without supernatural escape: “For that day will assault everyone who
lives on the face of the earth. Be vigilant at all times and pray that you
have the strength to escape the tribulations that are imminent and to
stand before the Son of Man.” (My emphasis) The escape that is offered
here is not supernatural removal from earth by a rapture event, but, rather,
strength of faith: it is the armor of God that St. Paul recommends in
Ephesians 6:11-16.
Adopting the theological misconceptions of Left Behind can limit our
full psychological participation in the ongoing reign of Christ, as we wait
passively, or perhaps pensively, for an hypothesized intermediate
appearance of Christ on earth to remove us from the tribulation, an
appearance that will not be occurring. It can only enhance our
participation in the thousand year reign of Christ, the Tribulation, and
Armageddon to know that they are underway.
That way we begin building our spiritual and physical strength to
prepare for impending hardships, instead of crossing our fingers and
sitting on our duffs hoping we won’t have to because Christ will appear
first to pull us out of it. The devil can use Left Behind to talk us into
sitting out the game on the sidelines, skipping the devil’s final assault on
the Church, or at least not giving our full effort.
Of course, no Christian will ever sit out the battle in full. I certainly do
not accuse Protestants (or any other faith) of sitting out the battle. Most
Protestants do not affirm Left Behind theology in any case. All the
Protestant people I know are actively engaged in battle. Protestants, in
fact, are the people who taught me the larger part of my personal faith in
Christ. I was born and raised Methodist and have attended a variety of
other good churches. Though I am now Catholic, I still at times attend a
Methodist service (after the Catholic Mass). Protestants are included in
the universal Catholic Church, as are all God-fearing faiths. All these are
visibly and admirably involved, fighting the good fight, and working for
God/Christ. Ironically, and to the credit of Christian fundamentalists who
do hold to Left Behind theology, the fundamentalists are as actively
fighting the battle as anyone. While that is visibly the case, it remains true
that their theology could still serve to tempt some of us with less resolve
and commitment to sitting out the last battle in an armchair holding up a
Bible as if it were a bus ticket waiting to be picked up in the Rapture.
Otherwise, some sense of urgency and the fullest psychological and
spiritual sense of engagement in the last battle may conceivably be lost
through lack of awareness that the event is already in progress. The
dignity of God’s warriors is another of my concerns. That dignity is,
perhaps, diminished somewhat by one’s not knowing that the last battle is
in fact the event they are presently experiencing. Knowing the Church
was presently engaged in the final battle with evil might spur some
Christians to even greater heroic levels of effort, although most are
already doing all that is physically possible to do. However, different
situations require different approaches. For that reason some people
would like to know this is the thousand year reign of Christ and the last
battle, Armageddon and Satan’s final assault on the Church, so they can
tailor their approach to the situation.
Putting myself in their place, I would just want to know—period. I
believe this is one reason God called me to the Catholic Church at the age
of fifty, so that I not miss this event—and to issue a wake-up call so
others don’t miss it.
Once again, in contradicting the Left Behind series theology, the
Catholic intent is not to deny the magnificent events of the end times (or
to deny that the Left Behind series inspired and alerted a lot of people, and
no doubt brought many home to Christ). Rather, it is to fully affirm the
end times events in their full glory, but with a more rigorous technical
fidelity to scripture.
As Pope Benedict XVI has emphasized, we must consider the context
of the whole Bible as a unified message in order to properly discern the
meaning of any one scriptural passage. In the Catholic view, judgment
and the harvest have been underway in a real sense for two thousand years
since Christ’s victory on the cross. John 12:31: “Now is the time of
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judgment on this world.” 1 Peter 4:17: “For it is time for the judgment to
begin with the household of God; if it begins with us, how will it end for
those who fail to obey the Gospel of God?” Many of the other primary
themes of the end times have been ongoing since Christ as well, including
the struggle with the Antichrist (1 John 4:3) and the fog of deception
imposed by the deceiver of 2 Thessalonians 2; this has all been ongoing,
as has the thousand year reign!
It turns out that the tribulation, an event many of us traditionally
assumed would only occur at the very end of things, is integral to the
harvest dynamic and has been going on since Christ as well. The Christian
martyrdoms under the Roman emperors suggest that both Armageddon
and the tribulation had already begun in the strongest terms.
Most of the Catholic biblical commentators I have read view the
Roman martyrdoms as the quintessential and primary instance of the
tribulation. Given the tortuous deaths of the martyrs, it is a hard thesis to
oppose. The Catholic Church views the tribulation as a broader event than
just the Roman martyrdoms, extending from the first century up to and
including the present time.
In this novel I reflect the mainstream Catholic view that the themes of
Revelation have been ongoing since Christ. But I go a bit further when I
suggest that a case can be made that Satan has been loosed upon our
world as of WWI. This doesn’t contradict Catholic theology, but it hasn’t
achieved the position of a mainstream belief either.
However one prefers to read biblical prophecy, it is clear enough that
the spiritual battle is presently intense. Horrendous persecution and
martyrdom of Christians continues in nations like China, India, North
Korea, Indonesia, Egypt, Sudan, Syria, Iraq, Vietnam, and Laos even
today (and many others). Certainly many thousands of people have been
martyred for their Christian faith in modern times.67 It is a simple
historical fact that these Christians were not bodily removed from their
tribulation in a rapture. And St. Paul’s audience for the Left Behind
theologians’ favorite passage, 1 Thessalonians 4, weren’t rescued from
their tribulation either.
I don’t doubt that many of them found, as did the Roman martyrs on
record clearly did, miraculous divine protection in a powerful spiritual
communion with God that insulated their hearts and souls from the pain of
their tortures. That is not the rapture of Left Behind, however, which,
involves a physical rescue. On the other hand, such a close communion
with God in the Spirit can arguably be considered an even greater gift—
and the eternal reward in heaven that followed, greater still.
--------------
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APPENDIX 3
How to Read Revelation, Prophetic
Scripture, Antichrist, Signs of the End…etc.
Many end times commentators, theologians, even Fathers of the
Church have insisted that “the Antichrist” will be a future human being.
In this book I pose what might appear to be an opposing view, that the
Antichrist concept can also be fulfilled by a demonic spirit as well as by
past godless tyrants such as the Roman emperor Nero. These views need
not conflict. One can be the fulfillment of the literal sense of a verse and
the other the fulfillment of the allegorical or symbolic sense. One can be
the meaning of Revelation while the other corresponds to the meaning of
1 John, 2 Thessalonians, or Ephesians, etc. My thesis of the present
demonic threat, while allowing for a human Antichrist to come, reminds
us as St. Paul did in Ephesians 6 that at the foundation of things our real
battle is with the devil and his demonic spirits, the fallen angels.
Prophecy scholars like Desmond Birch (author of Trial, Tribulation &
Triumph) and saintly theologians like John Cardinal Newman (in his
“Advent Sermons on Antichrist”) may seem to have authoritatively
resolved this question in favor of the Antichrist only being a human being.
I respectfully disagree. While there may certainly be a human Antichrist
to come, there is quite a bit more involved.
Cardinal Newman, himself, in A Confederacy of Evil (p. 76), allowed
both that his view could be mistaken and that the Antichrist could fake us
out by doing something subtle and tricky:
This is what I have to say about the last persecution and its signs. And
surely it is profitable to think about it, though we be quite mistaken in the
detail. For instance, after all perhaps it may not be a persecution of blood
and death, but of craft and subtlety only…Satan may adopt the more
alarming weapons of deceit—he may hide himself—he may attempt to
seduce us in little things, and so to move the Christians, not all at once,
but by little and little from their true position.
As Dr. Paul Thigpen tells us in his excellent book, The Rapture Trap,
what many people perhaps do not know is that the Church has yet to issue
an authoritative interpretation for the mysterious symbols of Revelation;
she is awaiting further guidance from the Holy Spirit. Yes, several basic
truths about the end times are authoritatively affirmed in concept, such as
Christ returning for judgment, the struggle of the tribulation, the last battle
of Armageddon, the appearance of Antichrist and the Beast, etc. However,
the details of how even these primary concepts are to be fulfilled in future
events remain unknown.
Even Cardinal Newman acknowledged that eschatology remains
largely mysterious to the Church: “But all these things are in God’s hand
and God’s knowledge, and there let us leave them.” My feeling about
Newman is that he, issuing his Antichrist sermons as he did just as the
two world wars were impending, was as much doing prophecy as he was
clarifying and expositing it. Hitler and Stalin were just around the corner.
Human manifestations of evil would, for a time at least, need to be
humanity’s primary focus.
Newman made clear that the Church does affirm that there will be a
human Antichrist, but in the course of this novel, and in its extension in
the first appendix, I give, through the person of Father Bernie, arguments
why I believe the human Antichrist, though a real problem, and someone
the Church firmly asserts will appear toward the very end of things,
should not be the Church’s sole concern. The components of my argument
are exclusively scripture and logic. Even Fathers of the Church (used by
Birch to emphasize the human Antichrist) may not dispense with those.
From the point of view of our total experience of the faith and the
larger themes of the Gospels, Acts, and the Epistles of the New
Testament, it is obvious that our primary struggle is, always has been, and
always will be with Satan and his demons, not human politicians
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(although we struggle with those too). It is his, Satan’s, final assault on
the Church after all. He’s the mastermind and the driving force behind it.
I do not mean to suggest that we should eschew the invaluable
guidance of the Church Fathers who firmly point at a human Antichrist—
quite to the contrary. But a reference to the Fathers only becomes
necessary to expositing the base propositional content of scripture where
the sufficiency of scripture text and logic falls short, that is, where the
scripture is silent, incomplete, vague, symbolic, or mysterious. Of course,
Revelation is precisely all of those things and then some. But Revelation
is not all there is to the Bible.
While referring to the Fathers is always edifying, it is not always
necessary—and when it is necessary it is not always enough. Sometimes
the Church is just waiting further guidance from the Holy Spirit, and this
is the case with much of Revelation.
Certainly insights gleaned from the Fathers can never contradict what
is already authoritatively affirmed to be in the Bible. And when
Revelation seems to conflict with other parts of the New Testament the
smart money is on the New Testament read as an integrated whole.
Outside of Revelation it is usually easier to obtain clarity and precision
about definite meaning. Revelation is not just mysterious, it is
extraordinarily mysterious—the gospels and epistles are much less so.
Even if we allowed that the consensus of the Church Fathers plus John
Cardinal Newman definitely placed the view of a future human Antichrist
under the authoritative teaching umbrella of the Church, we have to
remember that it was a human being in their future, not necessarily our
future. We have had Hitler, Stalin and Mao since then, and they certainly
appear to be legitimate candidates for the Antichrist. It made no
perceivable difference to their millions of victims that they did not rule
the rest of the planet in addition to their already massive holdings. In the
authentic experience of these victims they did live under the Antichrist.
Reading Revelation the way I do following Pope Emeritus Benedict
XVI, that is, allowing for symbolic meaning as well as multiple prophetic
fulfillments of the same passage, does not mean that we will not have a
powerful manifestation of evil in the form of a future world leader; it
means that we are likely to see more than one such abominable leader.
Indeed, history shows this to have already been the case. Antiochus IV
Epiphanes, Nero, Diocletian, Domitian, Hitler, Stalin, Mao—the list goes
on. Those names are from major world/regional powers only; smaller
nations have had at least their share of the same, such as the Ugandan
king Mwanga in late nineteenth century Africa.
Anyone who doubts that communist leaders of cold war Soviet Russia
qualified as an instance of Antichrist need merely read Tortured for
Christ, written by Rev. Richard Wurmbrand. A Romanian pastor,
Wurmbrand suffered imprisonment for many years for spreading the
Gospel of Christ. Some of the episodes of the brutal torture of Christians
in Soviet prisons were too horrible for him to recount, and the ones he did
report are too gruesome for me to comfortably repeat here.
Fr. Gabriele Amorth, Chief Exorcist of Rome, stated in a Daily Mail
interview with Nick Pisa that he believes both Stalin and Hitler were
possessed by the devil. He also noted that recently released Vatican
documents indicated that Pope Pius XII attempted a long-distance
exorcism on Hitler but without effect. (Nick Pisa, “Hitler and Stalin Were
Possessed by the Devil, Says Vatican Exorcist,” Daily Mail, 28 August
2006).
Pius XII (then Cardinal Eugenio Pacelli) had spent several years in
Germany as the Vatican representative there. He no doubt felt a closeness
to the German Church and German people. This may explain his trying a
long distance exorcism, that, according to Fr. Amorth, seldom succeeds;
most exorcisms won’t work unless they are performed face to face (and
supported by months of prayer, fasting, regular Mass, and the Holy
Sacraments—some go on for years). Amorth also noted that the possessed
person must consent to the exorcism for it to succeed.
Researching ungodly despots through human history reveals that
things could hardly have been worse for Christians of the past in more
than a few instances. Having read such alarming historical accounts as
those of Church historian Eusebius, it is not difficult to understand why
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many Catholic theologians have taken the position that the period of the
Roman martyrdoms satisfactorily, if not exclusively, fulfills the
Antichrist, abomination, Beast, and similar prophecies, at least to the
point of being the paradigmatic or type-defining instance. Eusebius’
account of the Roman martyrdoms in chapter 1 of book 5 of his Church
History is available in the Catholic Encyclopedia. It is offered free at
http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/250105.htm by the New Advent
Website.
In fact, a close reading of the history of the first three centuries after
Christ reveals an unthinkable horror story. A more modern Antichrist
could hardly surpass those persecutions short of total extermination of the
Christian community. The only thing a future Antichrist could add is to be
technically ruler of the entire modern world; he could add scope but not
intensity. When Christians are tortured to death for their faith, then, on the
individual level obviously it could not be more intense.
Though Nero and the bad Roman emperors ruled over the entire
civilized world of their time, and could thus qualify under the Antichrist
prophecy, it was admittedly a much smaller world than ours is today. One
can say, well the future Antichrist will simply do more harm, more often,
more aggressively, to more people. I concede that such is possible, as
horrific as it is to contemplate, but also note that Hitler, Stalin, Mao and
company have already done this; they have far exceeded the number of
victims of Nero and the anti-Christian Roman emperors (see the preface
to Frederick Forsyth’s The Odessa File, 2012 New American Library
edition).
The fact remains as St. John tells us in 1 John and 2 John, that the
Antichrist has long been at work. His prior manifestations are more than
substantial enough to qualify as genuine instances of the scriptural type
and theme of Antichrist, Beast, etc. Our own Pope Emeritus Benedict
XVI, writing then as Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, says the same in chapter
6 of his book Eschatology (Johann Auer’s Dogmatic Theology series, #9).
As far as the antichrist is concerned, we have seen that in the New
Testament he always assumes the lineaments of contemporary history.
He cannot be restricted to any single individual. One and the same he
wears many masks in each generation.
While there may be some value in picking out one manifestation of the
Antichrist above and beyond the others to appease one’s personal
curiosity of how best to piece together a linear end times chronology of
major events, a prophetic timeline, on either a practical or theological
level this is much less true. All such calamities constitute significant
crises with which the Church and the public must come to grips, and each
generation tends to have their own large or small battles of this type.
The Wikipedia article on Christian persecution estimates that over 70
million Christians have been killed for their faith since the first century,
65.5% of them in the twentieth century. In addition to proving beyond
doubt that we would be foolish to wait further to raise the alarm about
Antichrist, this statistic demolishes the logic of Left Behind theology.
Why would God deliver future Christians from violent persecution at
some point in the future in a rapture event when he has already left 70
million to be brutally tortured, burned alive, torn apart, eaten by wild
beasts, boiled in oil, fried on a metal grate, crucified, starved, and left to
freeze in the middle of winter?
The single-Antichrist-in-our-future view has always been an overly
simplistic read of the Bible. Jacob invites the reader to consider, as the
late and much beloved radio announcer Paul Harvey was famous for
saying, “the rest of the story.” In this case, the whole Bible and the entire
rest of human history since Christ is the rest of the story. Christ himself
ushered in the last age that is the subject of Revelation, and every bit of
the past 2,000+ years of our history since Christ is part of that last age. As
such, any historical event since Christ can qualify as satisfying the events
predicted by Revelation.
Documented within that history is the fact that we have already
suffered monumental struggles with Antichrist and periods of intense
apostasy and tribulation. But at the same time it is also evident that
Antichrist has been making a strong move on society today. In an audio
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broadcast in 1965 Paul Harvey explained, in very few but powerful
words, how the Antichrist is presently going about subverting modern
society. The accuracy of his 1965 prediction is startling viewed from our
current situation today. His homily was titled “If I Were the Devil” and
can easily be found by searching the Internet, at YouTube, for example. It
is well worth a listen.
Harvey was right, of course. The Antichrist is pressing his end game
on society right now, and it is the very same strategy Harvey described.
Conclusion? We should not be sleeping just because we don’t yet see the
Antichrist leading a one world government. Some of the key moves we
will need to make in our chess game with the devil are on the table before
us even now.
Revelation may seem to be telling us the dark knight takes the white
queen sometime in the future, but that may be a warning of an outcome
that can be avoided more than a prediction that is set in stone. Key moves
in the defense of that queen (the Church) are available for us to play
today. We can count on Jesus to make the final move to Checkmate,
removing the dark King from the board permanently when he returns for
final judgment, but our part comes earlier.
In interpreting the Bible we are not constrained by any valid
expositional principle that I know of to restrict defining references for the
Antichrist to just Revelation. The term “Antichrist” doesn’t even occur in
the book of Revelation.
Although the book of Revelation may, to those commentators who tend
to literal interpretations at least, seem to be predominantly concerned with
the quintessential human manifestation of the spirit of “Antichrist,” the
“deceiver” of 2 Thessalonians 2 clearly embodies an Antichrist-like theme
as well. The work of the deceiver has gone on since Christ brought the
truth to earth. The deceiver has characteristics more appropriate to a
demonic spirit than a human being.
The abomination is another concept closely related to Antichrist. The
abomination makes an appearance as early as the second century before
Christ with the profanation of the Jewish temple by Antiochus IV
Epiphanes. Something similar occurred later during the French
Revolution when a living statue, alleged by some to be a naked prostitute
and by others the wife of the event producer in a transparent gown, was
placed upon the alter of Notre Dame cathedral. This was followed by
worse travesties in other churches replete with genuine obscenities and
onsite orgies. (See the comments at the FishEaters Catholic Forum blog,
http://catholicforum.fisheaters.com/index.php?topic=3442252.0;wap2.
Taking the Bible’s complete set of references to Antichrist figures
entire gives us multiple appearances of Antichrist at different times. The
letter of 1 John, chapter 4 indicates the Antichrist was active as of the
time of the apostles shortly after Christ’s death on the cross. The book of
Revelation, if we are to take the Beast of Revelation as the Antichrist,
places Antichrist at the very end of the world.
One human being obviously cannot span the entire past 2,000 years of
opposition to the Church. The common sense read of scripture on this is
that the theme repeats and there are multiple fulfillments; it is that simple.
Demonic forces are the common thread in all these appearances, and they
are major players, albeit acting behind the scenes.
So, after traipsing through centuries of Catholic prophecies with
Desmond Birch and Yves DuPont (and admittedly being totally
fascinated, a bit frightened, and learning a great deal in the process), I
propose that we all slow our scholarly minds down here just long enough
to consider the obvious along with the traditionally presumed, the
academically obtuse, and the fascinatingly esoteric. I propose that we dare
to add a touch of common sense. Let us integrate into our analysis the
words of St. Paul, whose stature is certainly above that of even the Fathers
of the Church, as his words comprise a goodly portion of the word of God
itself, the Holy Bible.
St. Paul’s words in Ephesians 6:12 NAB alone are sufficient to prompt
us to extend the scope of the concept of Antichrist: “For our struggle is
not with flesh and blood but with the principalities, with the powers, with
the world rulers of this present darkness, with the evil spirits in the
heavens.” The principalities and powers are fallen angels, demons; they
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are not human beings.
Let’s begin a simple argument with that as premise one. Here is
premise two. With whom does the Church on earth, the Church Militant,
struggle more paradigmatically than with the Antichrist himself? No one,
obviously. This is true practically by definition of words. From here a
simple logical axiom is all that is required to complete the deduction that
the Antichrist is in essence a demonic spirit.
If our struggle is not with flesh and blood as St. Paul says, and our
struggle is with the Antichrist, then the Antichrist is not flesh and blood.
Simple logic.
In Ephesians St. Paul has answered the question of whom we are
struggling with in the last battle in the larger sense, while not addressing
the Antichrist prophecies of the book of Revelation per se. St. Paul and
the author of 1 & 2 John address, instead, what I call the whole-scripture
sense of Antichrist. This does not mean that the “Antichrist” (Beast)
prophecy of Revelation does not point to a man; it means that our larger
universal struggle is not predominantly with that man, but with the evil
spirit that will engender, empower, and motivate him.
It is this same evil force that has produced the present demonic surge
first identified by famous exorcist of the diocese of Rome, Father Gabriele
Amorth, as well as several noted Protestant deliverance ministry authors
such as Dr. Neil T. Anderson and Dr. Ed Murphy (and let’s not forget the
loveable radio announcer, Paul Harvey). In my novel, Jacob Shall Be a
Fire, I echo the concerns of Fr. Amorth, arguing that the Church must
finally take this event into cognizance and implement a focused plan of
action to ameliorate the damage. (Significant action was in fact recently
taken when Pope Benedict XVI instructed that exorcists be appointed in
each diocese.)
Another of the primary themes of Jacob is that discernment reveals
that we have a spiritual instance of the abomination that causes desolation
in our Churches right now in the form of invisible demonic spirits and
perhaps even followers of Satan brash enough to intentionally bring such
things into Church. The larger Church should be made aware of this
putrid contamination of the Catholic Mass and Protestant worship
services. The abomination is also present in the Church today in another
form: the priest sex abuse scandal. In such evil manifestations we see
biblical themes repeated and expressed in a variety of ways through
history.
In saying this, I don’t dispute any scholar such as Birch, Yves DuPont,
or anyone else who feels that the quintessential referent for the Beast in
Revelation must involve a massive worldwide paganization or
humanization of the Church and society consequent to the rise to power of
the human Antichrist. This could well be so in regards to the literal sense
of those passages—though the Church will never succumb to complete
defeat by any form that evil may take.
The true Church of the Spirit will remain, even if the institutional
churches and open worship are outlawed. In Reverend Wurmbrand’s
book, Tortured for Christ, we see that the Church went largely
underground in the former Soviet Union, but it survived and remained the
Church. When the Communists compromised the dogma of the Church in
Romania with Marxist beliefs, there remained an underground church true
to Christ.
The result of that monumental struggle in the former Soviet Union and
its satellites is that the true Church is again thriving there and Marxism is
not. The Church lost some battles, but won the war. And no matter how
bad it gets, the last struggle with Antichrist will be permanently resolved
in favor of the Church by Christ himself in his awesome display of power
and glory as he returns for final judgment.
So, yes, there does seem to be a human Antichrist to come at the very
end who gains great power and influence, perhaps even world domination,
but prophetic concepts, events, and symbols can have multiple instances
of fulfillment even in the literal sense. Scripture has potentially four
senses imputable to any given verse: the literal sense, allegorical sense
(symbolism of a key concept of the faith, teaching principle, or an
historically recurring theme), moral sense, and eschatological sense (final
events of the end times).
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Significantly different applications of the same or similar terms by
different authors can also occur in different places in the Bible. For
example, traditional commentators such as John Cardinal Newman have
connected the Beast of Revelation with the future human Antichrist. If
this is so, the Antichrist of 1 John, said to be active at the time, cannot be
the future Beast of Revelation; the time periods of their appearance do not
coincide within the range of a human lifespan.
If we allow that the first century Roman emperor Nero is the
Beast/Antichrist of Revelation, as many commentators have held, then 1
John and Revelation can be synchronized on this concept in the literal
sense. This requires only that we recognize that the end times covered by
the prophecies of Revelation actually began with the arrival of Jesus
Christ. To be more specific, the Church teaches in the Catechism at CCC
732 that the arrival of the Holy Spirit sent by Christ after his ascension
inaugurates the “last days” as of Pentecost morning (described in Acts 2).
However, Cardinal Newman along with much of Christian/Catholic
tradition argues that the eschatological sense of the Beast of Revelation
suggests a still future human dictator, Nero’s otherwise “superb”
qualifications notwithstanding. (Note: Newman wasn’t Catholic, he was
Anglican at the time.) Thus, the terms “Beast” and “Antichrist,” often
equated with each other, are seen to be used in at least two different ways
in the Bible: as the future Beast of Revelation as read by Cardinal
Newman in the eschatological sense, and as any one of many similarly
behaved prior historical persons (especially Nero, Diocletian, etc.) by the
author of 1 John and 2 John as well as the author of Revelation in the
literal sense, and also by the authors of the footnote commentaries in the
New American Bible Revised Edition (NABRE), which is the latest
Catholic Bible as of this writing in 2013.
I make a strong case below that Roman Emperor Nero is our best
candidate for the literal sense of the Beast of Revelation (along with
several other emperors who horribly persecuted Christians of the first
three centuries after Christ). As Fr. Vincent Miceli tells us in the intro to a
collection of Cardinal Newman’s Antichrist sermons (published as A
Confederacy of Evil), Nero and many of the Roman emperors, as well as
the prior Seleucid emperor Antiochus IV Epiphanes (who introduced the
“Abomination that causes desolation” into the ancient Hebrew church at
the time of the Maccabees), called themselves gods and set themselves up
in seats of worship as if they were God. Fr. Herman Bernard Kramer in
his commentary on Revelation (The Book of Destiny) tells us that emperor
worship reached its most intense phase towards the end of emperor
Domitian’s reign. Thus, the Roman emperors, the bad ones, would
eminently qualify as the Antichrist.
For Catholics who balk at the Nero hypothesis I should point out that
the latest best effort in terms of Catholic Bibles, the New American Bible
Revised Edition (NABRE, released March 2011) cites Roman emperor
Nero as the Beast and Domitian as the second Beast, Satan being the
dragon that commissioned them to persecute the Church
(http://www.usccb.org/bible/rev/13:4). That reading makes perfect
historical sense. Nero began the persecution of Christians and emperor
worship culminated with Domitian.
While non-Catholics may balk at this interpretation, they usually do so
in deference to Newman’s Antichrist sermons and his emphasis on a
future human Antichrist. Newman, of course, became a Catholic, rising to
the rank of cardinal, and himself allowed that his view of the Antichrist
could be wrong in the details.
Our sense that Nero couldn’t be the Antichrist because the end of the
world should come more quickly after the Beast/Antichrist might be
explained simply as a case of thinking too small—Job’s mistake. This is a
common error humans encounter while trying to fathom the will of God.
After all, for God, one day is like a thousand years and a thousand years
like one day. God reminds us in the Bible, “My ways are not your
ways….” Time is irrelevant to God as such, and his scope of cognition
and depth of planning are going to dwarf ours.
Another reason modern commentators may slip into emphasizing a
future Antichrist over Nero & Co. is egocentric thinking. We have a
tendency to think Revelation was written specifically for us and our times
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because we are naturally concerned about our future.
It is an historical fact that Revelation was written to reassure
Christians of the first three centuries that Christ would give them ultimate
victory over the horrible persecutions of their age. In the introduction to
The Book of Destiny, Fr. Herman Bernard Kramer says the purpose of the
Apocalypse was to console the early Christian congregations trying to
practice a virtuous life amid violent persecution and to reassure them of a
speedy judgment upon the enemies of Christ and the ultimate triumph of
the kingdom of God. However, Kramer also said that purpose extended to
consoling Christians of all centuries.
Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI recently said basically the same thing in
responding to increasing public interest in end times theology. Christian
communities have continued to suffer persecution and extreme hardship
in many regions around the globe over the past two thousand years. For
those Christians, that reassurance of ultimate deliverance is no less
essential than it was for Christians suffering during the first three
centuries.
We in modern times also get guidance from Revelation, but to make it
possible to give useful guidance to each succeeding generation,
Revelation has had to take on the form of a template of themes and
general concepts that can be flexibly applied to different generations
where current events manifest the themes in variable ways. For this
reason, trying to force a very specific interpretation on Revelation that ties
it down to only one century or one generation and one instance of each
named actor and event is doomed to fail.
Yes, the events and actors in Revelation may each have one best
referent for the literal sense, but the symbolic, moral, and eschatological
senses all have to span the entirety of history from Christ forward. Thus,
the language of Revelation must be flexible enough to admit of multiple
instances that manifest the same them as the Church’s continuing struggle
against evil goes forward. The book of Revelation is meant to speak to all
of us in our own times. It basically gives us conceptual models of event
types that say when something of this kind occurs here is what to expect
and here is what to do—and don’t worry the evil won’t last forever; Christ
will ultimately return and vanquish it permanently.
Yes, we are obviously in the end times, but what is often overlooked is
the fact that so were they in the end times during the first three centuries
after Christ. And Rome did rule the entire civilized world of the time.
They, the Christians of the first three centuries after Christ, did have a
“world-wide” evil dictator as stipulated in the Beast/Antichrist
prophecies, whereas we don’t seem likely to ever have one. One can
always say, well anything can happen in the distant future, but given the
strength of Western democracies, the United Nations, NATO, recognition
of international law and human rights, international bodies that review
war crimes and crimes against humanity, and gross human rights
violations, etc., the probabilities are in fact small.
It would therefore take a nuclear holocaust or the equivalent (from a
comet strike, for example) to set civilization back so far as to negate all
the modern deterrents, and then there wouldn’t be sufficient technology
available to support a world-wide society—an Antichrist of those days
would have no greater geographical reach than Nero had.
One can say, well what if the pagan philosophy takes hold and they
work their way back to high technology? Yes, then they could have a truly
global Antichrist. While that is possible, I don’t give it a high probability
because when catastrophe strikes the human tendency is to turn back to
God for help. I don’t see a pagan surge coming out of a holocaust so much
as a Christian revival.
In Old Testament times the Hebrews at times were pretty obstinate,
turning away from God even after stern warnings, but they did tend to
return to God when things got really bad and they needed deliverance.
This is human nature, of course, though it is not a virtuous part of it.
Humanity should do the same when things get really bad in future times,
and more so because the Hebrews didn’t have Christ to convert their
hearts and the Holy Sacraments of Baptism, Confession, and
Confirmation to solidify conversion and give them increasing supportive
gifts of the Spirit along the way.
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That, of course, is all hypothetical. In pure theory, anything could
happen.
A more concrete key to my case for Nero being our best candidate for
Antichrist is the resolution of the interpretive question of who the two
witnesses of Revelation are. I propose that Sts. Peter and Paul are
obviously our very best candidates for the two witnesses of Revelation
because they were the two most notable pillars of the Church—and they
were martyred under Nero. Nero’s name, Nero Caesar, transliterated from
Greek into Hebrew does form the number 666. It was a Hebrew author,
after all, who wrote Revelation for Hebrews, so we need not look to other
languages to find the number of the Antichrist.
Nero therefore becomes the obvious, and the only known fully
qualifying candidate for the Beast in the literal sense of that scriptural
passage. Other aspects of the two witnesses passages from Revelation best
fit the times of Nero and his successors, such as the display and mocking
of the bodies of the dead martyrs who were not permitted burial. Combine
the independently strong cases for Nero being Antichrist and Sts. Peter
and Paul being the two witnesses, and the fact that the cases crosscorroborate each other, and you have a strong case that the literal referent
of the Beast and two witnesses passage of Revelation is the period of
Nero and Sts. Peter and Paul. Combining these arguments with the
horrible martyrdoms of the first three centuries under the anti-Christian
Roman emperors yields a strong case that the literal sense of the
tribulation is satisfied during the same period, the first three centuries
after Christ during the Roman persecutions of the Church.
You may want to ask, “If that case is so good, why didn’t John
Cardinal Newman arrive at the same opinion, and echo St. Paul’s
emphasis on our struggle with the demonic spirits as well?” I think the
reason is that when Cardinal Newman issued his sermons on Antichrist he
was himself functioning as a prophet (and a Protestant prophet). Given
the timeframe of his sermons, the late 19th century, his preoccupation with
a human Antichrist can be seen as a prophetic mission inspired by the
Holy Spirit, and for every good reason. WWI, WWII (with its Antichrist
figures of Hitler and Stalin), and the Cold War with atheistic Communism
were just around the historical corner. They understandably produced
more victims and martyrs than the first three centuries, given modern
weapons systems, grater overall population, and the availability of
modern transportation, communication, and construction methods to assist
totalitarian systems to oppress the people.
Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom: two world wars, the epic Cold War
with atheistic Communism, the assassinations of so many Christian and
moral crusaders (Kennedy, King, Kennedy, Sadat, Lenin, Benazir
Bhutto…), the shootings of Pope John Paul II and President Reagan, the
massive decline of basic human morality (legalized killing of our own
children in abortion, same sex marriage, epidemics of pornography and
gross indecency in the mass media, a culture of violence and drugs, open
worship of Satan, etc.).
Certainly there was plenty of cause for prophecy in Newman’s time.
His generation was sitting on an historical powder keg from which was
about to explode two world wars, the great apostasy (at least one of them),
and major thrusts of Satan’s final assault upon the Church (which we
continue to endure today in various forms).
Nero may be the literal referent for the Beast of Revelation, but Hitler
and Stalin were the two most quintessential Antichrists of modern history.
They may not have conquered the entire world of their time, but they
intended to, and they victimized more people than Nero did. While
Church historian Eusebius shows us that the Roman martyrdoms very
strongly match the Antichrist/Beast passages of Revelation, the number of
martyrs produced during the Cold War in the Soviet Union was greater
than the number of Roman martyrs, as was the number of God’s people,
the Jews slaughtered by the Nazis in WWII.
That should give us pause. If many learned theologians of the modern
Church have agreed on the exposition of Revelation as referring to the
Roman martyrdoms, and those martyrdoms were in fact as gruesome and
horrible as Eusebius describes, and if the two witnesses were so clearly
Sts. Peter and Paul, why would Newman deviate from such a strong and
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well-supported exposition to focus on a future Antichrist instead? Simple:
things were going to get even worse.
We know that Newman was following a consensus among the
majority of Church Fathers’ expositions of Revelation that the Antichrist
would be a future world leader occurring closer to the final end of things.
But I think Newman was also prophetically focused on the future for the
reasons cited, impending calamity. He was himself acting as a prophet.
The Holy Spirit was telling him through the spirit of prophecy that there
was soon going to be one or more human antichrists, who, in terms of
numbers of victims, would constitute something worse than the Roman
martyrdoms. Moved by the Holy Spirit, Cardinal Newman, exercising his
own gift of prophecy as a leading shepherd of the flock, emphasized the
threat of a future human Antichrist because the purpose of Revelation is to
guide all of God’s people through the traumatic times of the end, not just
those living in the first few centuries after Christ. The purpose of the
original Nero & Co. prophecy was served; its time was past, and there
remained the job of continuing to shepherd the flock through
extraordinarily difficult times.
Although the literal sense of Revelation was written for the early
Christians of the first three or four centuries, the symbolic sense is there to
guide us all. As Newman delivered his Antichrist sermons, God’s human
flock was poised on the verge of grappling with two seriously catastrophic
manifestations of the very thing Revelation is there to warn us about. It
was more important to guide the present flock through those catastrophes
than it was to be academically correct about the best candidate for the
literal sense of the Beast of Revelation. Newman wisely opted to give the
role of prophet preference over that of academic or popular theologian. In
emphasizing the symbolic sense of Revelation over the literal sense, he
served his own and succeeding generations by providing a urgently
needed heads-up.
True, Newman used language that seemed to indicate that he believed
the future Antichrist fulfilled the literal sense as well as the symbolic
sense of the “Beast” of Revelation. He may have chosen that language
knowing that it wasn’t the best interpretation but entered into the “error”
for the reason just mentioned. Sensing that the popular religious mentality
in England at the time was focused towards one literal referent for the
prophecies of Revelation, he played to that mentality for the purpose of
successfully alerting them to make preparations to oppose impending
totalitarian regimes. The Holy Spirit may have guided him to do this
either by giving him conscious knowledge that there was an impending
future threat, or by inspiring him to do prophecy without giving the gift of
interpreting that prophecy.
The language Newman employed unavoidably leads one to believe
that he held the literal sense of the “Beast” of Revelation to be a future
Antichrist. If so, I believe in that technical point of interpretation he was
simply in error. But it is an excusable one, for there is no authoritative
teaching that directs a given reading of Revelation be preferred over the
other alternatives otherwise compatible with the infallible core teachings
of the Church on faith and morals. Ultimately, I think Cardinal Newman,
at least when he was in the process of delivering a sermon, was simply a
pastor first and a theologian second. The Holy Spirit inspired his sermons
to embed the prophetic warnings the people of his times and near-term
future needed to hear, and that was that.
We find ourselves pretty much in the same situation as Cardinal
Newman today. Yes, the literal sense was Nero, but whoop de do! The
symbolic moral, and eschatological senses are the ones we of modern
times need to be concerned with. The additional, and perhaps even more
powerful and wide-ranging, evil regimes that could arise in our times are
an immediate and potentially deadly threat to us. So, if changing the
academic labels around concerning which referent best qualifies in the
literal sense serves to motivate us to effective preventative action, it is a
justifiable distortion of academic theology. Better to stop evil and make
an academic mistake than to let evil run the world over and be
academically correct.
It remains possible that Cardinal Newman in his own thinking simply
made that academic “mistake.” It wasn’t a hard mistake in any case as
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there was and is no official dogma that requires any one specific reading
of the Antichrist/Beast references of the Bible in the literal sense. And, in
a sense, it wasn’t actually a mistake imputable to Newman. The mistake is
imputable to the public, the listeners to whom his Antichrist sermons were
addressed. They were the ones who held the mistaken reading of
Revelation that ascribed the literal sense of “the Beast” to a future
Antichrist.
Newman was intellectually, academically, and theologically adept
enough to make the not terribly subtle distinctions required to get it right.
But if Newman’s warnings were to be effective, what he was saying had
to in synch with his listeners, otherwise they would have brushed it off.
Off course, being human, they have brushed it off in any case, but to give
the prophecy a chance to succeed it had to be tailored to match the
expectations of the popular religion of the time held by the masses that
Newman was trying to warn. The Spirit may have moved Newman to
make this “mistake” when he was otherwise capable of forming a
different reading, or Newman may have chosen to alter the reading
himself for the sake of his audience, while actually holding an
academically more complex view that he felt the masses weren’t ready to
take in.
Perhaps the most defensible view is that Newman’s opinion was
precisely what he said. Newman didn’t convert to Catholic from Anglican
until October 1845, roughly ten years after delivering the Antichrist
sermons. Protestants have a much stronger tendency to focus on the literal
sense of scripture than Catholics. This is especially true concerning
prophecy, where the Catholic Church holds that we are awaiting
additional guidance from the Holy Spirit necessary to pinning down the
meaning of many of the prophetic segments in Revelation.
Coming from a Protestant background it may actually have been
Newman’s opinion that the best candidate for Antichrist was a future
human being, not Nero and the other anti-Christian Roman emperors. So,
in this view, although Newman wasn’t consciously trying to match the
expectations of his audience in order to get the prophetic warning across,
perhaps God was by selecting a representative who was still in tune with
the Protestant approach. Perhaps God was using Newman and his (at the
time) Protestant conception of the book of Revelation to warn the largely
Protestant audience to begin preparing a stronger culture of faith that
would be more resistant to the impending Nazi menace of WWII, a
menace to be closely followed by the atheistic Communist threat and the
Cold War. WWI, of course, was a closer threat, but it didn’t pose an
ideological menace opposed to the Church as such.
Despite the fact that Newman’s read of Revelation is incomplete at
best in the context of all the additional things we will consider here, it
remains true that the Holy Spirit placed the right man in the right job. This
“mistaken” reading was the only one the public (who were largely
Protestant in England) would respond to, and affirming the theological
significance of the Roman martyrdoms of the past, while academically
correct, does nothing to prepare future generations from 1835 forward for
the powerful modern threats looming in their future.
So, God chose Newman, who would compose the Antichrist sermons
in a straightforward literal sense in place of a more correct but too
sophisticated theology (like the one I present here , though I am only a
writer, not a theologian), to which complex counter-intuitive readings the
public would have turned a deaf ear within the Protestant-formed social
milieu of 1835 England.
So why didn’t Newman correct his view of the Antichrist in a popular
lecture after he became Catholic? The short answer is “for every good
reason.” The Catholic Church has no authoritative position on how to read
those prophetic passages of scripture, and Newman’s school of thought
remains as strong as any other. Plus, the sermons, as all sermons, were
inspired by the Holy Spirit, and since they were not dogmatically in error,
prudence would dictate leaving them alone. So would common sense.
They were issued to guide future generations of the public, not to inform
academics about the best read of the past. His original interpretation best
served that purpose.
To be understood universally among the public a message must be
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simple and clear. This is even more important for prophetic messages
whose purpose is either to warn of dire consequences or encourage the
faithful to hold up under most difficult conditions. In electing not to alter
his Antichrist Sermons after he became Catholic, Cardinal Newman may
have been guided by the common sense understanding that nobody except
academic theologians has any interest in heavily academic theology—
especially where life and death guidance is involved. He remained a
pastor first, and an academic theologian second.
Of course, the explanation may be so simple as that as with all priests,
bishops and cardinals, the Church, the flock, the devil, and world events
kept him so busy that he never found an opportunity to revisit the
question. The Catholic Church has traditionally spent near zero time on
prophetic questions. As a Catholic, Newman would be caught up in this
prioritization scheme that minimalizes concern with prophetic
interpretation. The Catholic Church is a very busy organization, doing
many important things for the faithful as well as for the poor and suffering
around the world. It would have taken a clear mandate from God to bring
the Church back around to the subject.
The fact that such a mandate didn’t arise suggests that Newman’s
approach was correct for God’s purposes at the time he delivered his
famous Antichrist sermons. But let’s remember what that time was: 1835.
Since that time we have had two enormously powerful manifestations of
Antichrist that threatened to overrun the entire planet: Hitler’s Nazis and
the Communist empire of the former Soviet Union and its satellites. There
were also some strong national and regional tyrants that cut good
Antichrist figures as well. So, while it served God’s purposes in 1835 to
focus the public’s concern on a future Antichrist, it may be much less of a
concern today to fear future Antichrists as much as a resurgence of past
Antichrists: the Nazis and the Communists.
And we should keep in mind that Church leaders are not infallible in
interpreting prophetic scripture. They are only infallible in teaching items
of faith and morals. It is an item of faith that there is an Antichrist and a
Beast corresponding to biblical references, and that there will be one
fulfilling a major role prior to Christ’s return, but it is not an item of faith
that related biblical passages must be interpreted so specifically as to tag
those references to only one man and only one point in time once all four
senses of scripture are taken into consideration (literal sense,
eschatological or end times sense, symbolic or analogical sense, and
moral sense).
St. John, in fact, says in the Bible at 1 John 2:18 (NABRE) that many
antichrists had already come as of the first century after Christ. At verse
22 he tells us to make allowances for the possibility of many more
antichrists.
18
Children, it is the last hour;* and just as you heard that the antichrist
was coming, so now many antichrists have appeared. Thus we know this
is the last hour….22 Who is the liar? Whoever denies that Jesus is the
Christ. Whoever denies the Father and the Son, this is the antichrist.
Despite this clear statement about multiple antichrists in 1 John, we
need to understand that Cardinal Newman was addressing the book of
Revelation specifically. Such an expositional “mistake” in reading
Revelation could much more understandably happen. Newman was
properly giving a great deal of weight to many centuries of popular
tradition, which focused on a future Antichrist as being the primary
referent of the Beast of Revelation.
In formulating its dogma the Church always gives a great deal of
weight to popular tradition, such as when Pope Pius XII affirmed the
Marian dogma of St. Mary’s assumption into heaven. St. Mary’s
assumption was a traditional belief dating back to at least the fourth
century, and probably further to the second century. Popular tradition is
not permitted to contradict or replace the Church’s existing authoritative
teachings, but it is allowed a role in proposing and developing future
additions to Church teachings.
The problem is that interpreting prophetic symbolism is a different
kind of task than documenting an historical event. With St. Mary’s
assumption there were only two options, either she was assumed bodily
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into heaven or she wasn’t. Tradition was clear that she was.
With the question of the Beast/Antichrist prophecies of Revelation
there is both the literal sense and the symbolic, moral, and eschatological
senses that must be dealt with. The public masses of Christian believers
living during the fourth century forward were understandably more
concerned with the Antichrist appearing in their future than with historical
events of the past. Not being theologians themselves, the public easily
slipped into the error of confusing the literal and eschatological senses of
Revelation concerning the Beast/Antichrist.
When reading Revelation the Spirit was guiding them to be cognizant
of future threats for their own sake and the sake of generations to come.
Perhaps Newman was guided by the Spirit in the same direction for the
same reason. The Church Fathers by and large made the same “mistake,”
so perhaps the Holy Spirit was guiding them in a similar way to see to the
wellbeing of the future flock as the priority concern, giving that task
precedence over academic considerations about what to best term the
literal referent of the Beast of Revelation.
While looking to the Fathers and longstanding tradition is definitely
the correct thing to do on issues of faith and morals because God guides
the entire Church on core issues of faith, prophecy is different; it provides
unique opportunities for error. End times (eschatological) prophecy
provides many more opportunities for error due to the flexible thematic
template used to guide many centuries using one prophetic text.
Prophecy is God’s own tool; he knows best how to use it in a given
time and place. As in the case of Daniel and his gift for interpreting
visions, the task of interpreting prophetic revelations is best left in the
hands of those God has given specific gifts for that purpose. The purpose
of prophecy is to guide the flock, so the shepherds of the flock, the priests,
bishops, archbishops, and cardinals are the most likely recipients of the
gift of interpreting prophecy, though not the only recipients.
As a shepherd of the flock appointed by the Church, Cardinal Newman
deserves our deference. His view must be given the most weight in terms
of guiding our actions and behavior. Academically, however, we may still
allow that calling Nero the best literal referent of ‘the Beast’ term in
Revelation is technically correct.
Cardinal Newman’s purpose of guiding and strongly motivating the
flock, a massive Catholic/Protestant population spanning many nations,
on how best to mentally, physically, spiritually, and politically prepare to
do battle in an impending calamitous world struggle against supernatural
evil and totalitarian political regimes is a far different and vastly more
important kind of task than a theology professor doing a linguistic
analysis and historical study to find likely referents of the term ‘the Beast’
in Revelation. Both are correct for their intended purposes.
When we step into the library for some contemplative study and
research, it is perfectly correct to acknowledge the academic argument for
Nero being the literal referent of ‘Beast’ and ‘Antichrist,’ though we
probably should extend the coverage of those terms to include the entire
set of anti-Christian emperors. When we step out of the library onto the
mean streets of the real world and face looming political and spiritual
threats in our turbulent world, however, Cardinal Newman should be our
guide: beware and prepare.
Giving deference, respect, and homage to the early Christian martyrs,
which included St. Peter and many of Christ’s apostles, and probably
included St. Paul, serves a legitimate function of the faith. It rightfully
affords a special place of honor to the founders of our Church and the
time of Christ of himself.
Those martyrs suffered terribly to allow the Church to survive to bring
salvation to us. Many of their deaths in and out of the Roman
amphitheater were brutal and horrific. And in some ways it was harder for
those early martyrs to face death than it would be for us today, since we
have had centuries of confirmation, miracles, cross-corroboration, and
mass affirmation to bolster our faith. What they did they did on the basis
of a few inspired personal testimonies and a conversion experience in
baptism. Many of them evinced miracles in the event of their death.
It is correct to mark those times as the quintessential tribulation and
era of “the Beast” on both technical expositional grounds and proper
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honorific grounds. When we move to address future threats, however, and
the remaining practical uses of prophecy, Cardinal Newman’s focus on
the future Antichrist again rightfully assumes its central place as our
guiding theme.
In academic terms, to take an ambiguous written symbol like “Beast
with seven horns” and know which of hundreds of historical political
leaders it refers to takes both an in-depth knowledge of history, technical
expertise in scriptural exposition, and Daniel’s spiritual gift of interpreting
prophecy. The general public is especially unqualified to perform this
task, and thus it is no surprise that the popular tradition got it wrong-academically. In the prophetic arena, however, which is not concerned
with the dead past so much as guiding the living flock, the general public
and their noteworthy shepherd John Cardinal Newman were not nearly so
wrong.
St. Paul tells us that even those with the gift of issuing prophecy don’t
necessarily have the gift of interpreting prophecy. I suggest that either
Newman had the gift of prophecy but not the gift of interpreting it, or he
consciously or unconsciously (driven by the Holy Spirit) elected to place
his emphasis on issuing prophecy for the sake of assisting people through
the dire events that looming in the immediate future. Newman himself of
course very much confused the issue by explicitly couching what he was
doing in terms of interpreting prophecy, when in fact he was more truly
issuing prophecy than interpreting it. Still, given the dire events ahead, he
did very much the right thing because it motivated people for the
upcoming struggle and infused into the popular mindset the need to be
vigilant and guard against the rise of the Antichrist.
The prophetic emphasis on the future human Antichrist at the time of
Newman was precisely as it should be given the context, the ominous
events impending at the time. To underscore this point, St. Mary came
along at Fatima, Portugal in 1917, three years into WWI, and put the same
warning, as it were, up in neon lights.
Why didn’t St. Mary appear before WWI began? Apparently because
wars between Christian and god-fearing nations did not pose a new,
greater level of threat to the Church and free Christian society. The advent
of atheistic Communism, however, just occurring in the October
Revolution in Russia in 1917 and immediately around the corner in the
formation of the Communist Party in China in 1921, would pose a threat
to Christian society worldwide, as well as untold deaths and endless
suffering within the Communist nations in addition to deprivation of the
right to worship.
In the event of Newman’s Antichrist sermons, urgent prophecy
supplanted the task of academic exposition of scripture (which,
technically, favors Nero as the Beast of Revelation). There was a most
pressing need to shepherd the flock with prophecy, and Newman stepped
up and filled it. The purpose of prophecy, to guide the flock through
difficult times, here rightfully took precedence over a concern to create
technically unimpeachable academic journal articles. Thus we can easily
forgive Newman’s technical mistake about the literal sense of the
Antichrist, if mistake it was.
Why belabor so much this one point that it can be simultaneously true
that Nero is the best referent for the Beast of Revelation in the literal
sense and that more modern eras should still be concerned with the
Antichrists of their own day, as well as future Antichrists to come (the
symbolic sense). The integrity and credibility of the Church, and the
integrity and credibility of those scholars who are imminently qualified
and yet arrive at seemingly incompatible positions—that’s the reason I
take so much trouble to sort this out. Otherwise, readers, especially
nonbelievers are going to look at these controversies and apparent
contradictions and say, well, even the leaders of the Church at the highest
levels can’t produce anything but contradictions from the Bible.
Overly simplistic readings of the Bible can do a lot of harm by
destroying the credibility of the Church among nonbelievers. One
example of such a case is Matthew 16:28 (NABRE): “Amen, I say to you,
there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see the
Son of Man coming in his Kingdom.” Critics of the Church who assume a
literal simplistic reading is the only option available may say the Bible has
ou
been proved false here because if some of Christ’s original apostles had
continued living until the present it would be such a sensation that we
would unavoidably know about it.
This assumption isn’t true, of course, because those apostles would be
savvy enough to know to conceal their identity at this point because
enemies of the Church, such as Communism, would want to hunt them
down and kill them to remove such a visible proof that God was real (a
bogus proof in their minds) by showing the apostles weren’t immortal
after all. The Communists would be misunderstanding that the gift wasn’t
physical immortality but just extended life, but the threat to the apostle’s
lives would be no less real because of this mistake.
Those apostles Christ chose to give such a gift could be alive without
our knowing it, but the more important point is that literal simplistic
readings don’t always exhaust the valid interpretive possibilities. That
same passage could be legitimately read several different nonliteral ways.
For example, the verse could be employing figurative language
indicating the coming sainthood of the apostles, the fact that they would
not be falling asleep in death but experiencing the continued conscious
self-awareness of a living soul united with God in heaven, from where
they would see Christ’s return when it occurred. Another possibility is
that the verse refers to a magnificent spiritual gift Christ intends to give to
his apostles prior to their martyrdom, someone like St. Peter perhaps.
Within that vision the apostle about to be martyred could indeed see the
event of the return of Christ, perhaps, in a sense, even be present at the
event since the event will be occurring in the eternal and timeless realm of
the divine. This last reading makes a certain amount of sense in the
context of the prior verse where Christ is talking about rewards. He says
that people should hold onto their eternal soul even at the cost of their
mortal physical life on Earth because God will repay them in full for their
suffering when he returns.
So the meaning of verse 28 that immediately follows may be that God
will give magnificent rewards of the spirit to some even before they die,
including the gift of miraculously being present at the Lord’s return by
way of a vision that allows the martyr to momentarily enter the timeless
divine realm while still living in the body here on Earth. This reading
makes sense as a gift fitting the situation. What fear or trepidation could
the otherwise horrible execution event cause in someone who had just
entered the divine realm and seen firsthand that death itself had been
overcome and experienced the divine joy and healing available in heaven?
Such examples illustrate that insisting on literal simplistic readings
introduces unnecessary and false concerns about the credibility of the
Bible. Other fully legitimate readings are available that don’t produce
grounds for serious criticisms.
Back to the point about Antichrist, many traditional commentators and
Church Fathers also emphasized the human Antichrist at the very end of
times. So it was true that Newman was, and he so stated, expositing a
consensus interpretive view from tradition (as well as prophesying for the
near term). However, modern expert Catholic theologians tend to mark
Nero as the proper referent for the literal sense of ‘the Beast’ of
Revelation. This seems to produce a contradiction between the views of
top Church experts. I take pains to attempt to sort out the apparent conflict
here to save the Church’s reputation of intellectual competence in the eyes
of some members of the public who wouldn’t have time to pursue such a
complex analysis on their own initiative minus a book that walks them
through it.
Of course, fans of seers, clairvoyants, precognizant inventions,
predictive prophecy, including end times prophecy, Nostradamus,
Leonardo da Vinci, St. Malachi, and all of that, are fascinated most by the
prophecies that go into more detail about the future than even Newman
could go into. Biblical prophecy itself doesn’t yield details about the
future, but occasionally individual prophets have offered some details,
usually for the moderate to short-term future only. I refer those readers
who love to read such detailed prophecies to Yves DuPont’s book,
Catholic Prophecy, for a survey of a plethora of interesting prophecies
and their proposed interpretations, some of which, go into detail as to
future events.
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As far as what degree of prophetic speculation I am willing to venture
on myself, I am not able to enter into detailed prophecies of the future.
However, one of the most eye-opening possibilities to consider that has
occurred to me is that both Newman’s interpretation that the human
Antichrist would appear at the very end of things and the prophetic
warning of the impending appearance of Hitler and Stalin, were
concerned with the very same thing: the final manifestations of Antichrist!
In other words, although the events inaugurated by WWII and the Cold
War struggle against Communism may only be a first phase of a string of
related events to occur later, they could still be a noteworthy introduction
of the very final phase of Armageddon that leads us right up to the end.
It remains possible that Hitler and Stalin were the last major
Antichrists, or the introduction of the last phase that may include others
that will be, and possible that the demonic surge we are presently
enduring may be the release of Satan from the pit depicted in Revelation
20, the event that occurs subsequent to the final Antichrist and lays the
social-political foundations for his appearance!
Even the horrible events of demonic overrun that we see daily in the
news headlines may not seem cataclysmic enough to fulfil the Antichrist
prophecies for some readers, but for the prophetic intent and purpose of
guiding the individuals of the different periods of history who lived under
the cruel despots of their time and faced horrific persecutions, it is true, or
true enough, to say that from the perspectives of the people involved in
those times the Antichrist had come to world power.
Certainly from the perspective of Christians coated with tar and
burned alive as garden lamps in Nero’s garden to amuse his pagan guests,
the Antichrist had come to power. For the Jewish men, women, and
children burned in the furnaces of Nazi concentration camps, the
Antichrist had come to power. For the millions who died of cruel
conditions or torture in Soviet prisons, gulags, or work projects,
condemned perhaps for nothing more than worshiping God, it was no less
true that the Antichrist had come to power.
My speculative contribution to the prophetic discussions is that present
events might be part of a direct progression to the final end from the
appearance of the last major Antichrist(s), who within this hypothesis
would be Hitler and Stalin et seq. That is only a possibility, of course, but
one worthy of consideration. I don’t propose this as a cause for panic. We
shouldn’t allow ourselves to fall into the neurosis of “End Times Fever,”
but it is certainly food for thought. The last phase of this world must occur
sometime, and although our focus should remain on heaven and the next
world, the end of this world is hardly to be considered a negligible event.
The release of Satan would present us with an even more powerful,
tricky, and purely evil opponent to grapple with than a human Antichrist.
Given the undeniable indicators of moral decline and the fact that the
great apostasy would logically be produced by the intense temptations and
supernatural effects of Satan’s release from the pit, viewing Hitler and
Stalin as the final Antichrists or the precursors thereof is a very reasonable
interpretation given the events presently occurring in our own time. As the
prophet Jeremiah says in Jeremiah 30: “When the time comes you will
understand.”
Just because we might see additional Antichrists doesn’t mean that we
will, of course. The article of faith that affirms an Antichrist at the final
phase of events is not contradicted in this view. If we stop and remember
2 Peter 3:8, to paraphrase, to the Lord a thousand years is like one day.
Just because we seem to have had a partial denouement since the Cold
War doesn’t mean we have to have yet another Antichrist. That
denouement may not be significant enough in the eyes of God to list
separately in Revelation.
The WWII struggle with Hitler and the Cold War struggle with Stalin
and Communism may have been the last hurrah in the sense of being the
two biggest individual events of that type. Or perhaps there is no reason to
announce a denouement because there is no denouement: the struggle
with Nazis and Marxists continues to this day. Although they have lost
most of their national sponsorship and large military strength, they are
still here.
And we have had many smaller struggles with Antichrist since WWII.
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Some are ongoing even now in some twenty or thirty nations around the
world that still violently persecute Christians. Radical Islamic Jihad,
though an outcropping from a legitimate religion, in that it attacks
Christians can be considered a manifestation of Antichrist.
Thus, Christ’s return need not be held up (as far as we humans can
know) pending the arrival of yet another Antichrist. We have had enough
Antichrists already, and (as Popeye the Sailor used to say), “enough is too
much!”
Probably the overall best view of Revelation and eschatological
prophecy is that it is driven more by God’s personal love and concern for
each one of us than it is by a wish to satisfy human curiosity about future
events of world history. We are curious to see a detailed roadmap to the
future or even a more general philosophical exposition of the dynamics of
end times events in a model concrete enough to aid a visualization of
future events so that we can say “OK, this is this in Revelation, and that is
that in Daniel, and so on.” It is a natural instinct both to seek concreteness
in prophecy and a knowledge of the future to enhance security. However
we won’t necessarily be getting either to any great extent.
In this case we make the error of thinking too big, instead of thinking
too small. We, individual Christians, don’t have to navigate the entirety of
human history, but only the seventy or eighty years of our individual life
up to our physical death and individual judgment. The purpose of
prophecy is to help us navigate difficult events, yes, but God is concerned
for us personally as individuals more than as a culture or society. Nations
don’t achieve eternal salvation, individual people do. God wants to see us
personally achieve salvation within those seventy years, and so the
prophecies of Revelation and all the other books refer to recurring themes
that affect all of us within a typical lifespan. Revelation is a template for
personal guidance in all generations, not a rigid roadmap of future events.
So what is the import of this personalized view of prophecy on the
Antichrist question? Was Nero the Antichrist? Yes! Was Stalin the
Antichrist? Yes! For the people of their time, they were. And Nero is the
best candidate for the literal sense, whereas Stalin qualifies in the
symbolic, analogical sense, as do many others. The ultimate fulfillment of
the eschatological sense is really the only open question. Might there be
others? Yes, but it is not necessary. Hitler and Stalin may turn out to be
the last and therefore the despotic leaders who qualify as the Antichrist in
the eschatological sense as well.
So much for sorting through the human referents for ‘Beast’ and
‘Antichrist.’ Let’s return now to the demonic side of this threat to round
out our understanding.
Even if we grant the assumption of one or more evil human beings still
to come as the future Beast of Revelation, we can still ask the question,
“Is a human Antichrist the quintessential fulfillment of all the Antichristlike figures in the Bible such as the deceiver of 2 Thessalonians 2 or does
a major demonic spirit do the job better?” This remains an entirely
legitimate question, despite Cardinal Newman’s having somewhat
unhelpfully thrown the terms “Antichrist,” “deceiver,” “Abomination,”
“Beast,” and false prophet all into the same referential hat before
pronouncing that they would be the same human being appearing very
late in human history.
To begin our approach to the subject of the supernatural side of the
prophetic threat, we should note that Revelation is not all there is to the
prophetic sections of the Bible. I will make the case here that the best
integrated interpretation of all ‘the Beast’ and ‘Antichrist’ prophecies,
once relevant passages from all the books of the Bible are considered, is
that the Antichrist and Beast references, as least in the analogical or
symbolic sense, point to a demonic spirit (probably Satan).
Nero, Hitler, and Stalin are gone, but that doesn’t mean it is time to go
back to sleep. We must remain on guard. The battle with evil still rages in
human political terms, but we also have the continuing battle with evil
spirits to manage.
So, moving on to the supernatural theme of the novel, while Hitler and
Stalin produced human tragedies even greater than Nero, there is an evil
operating in human history greater yet than Hitler and Stalin, and it is not
human. As St. Paul instructed us, our enemy is not flesh and blood.
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Although Antichrist-like terms occurring outside of Revelation may
have as one of their multiple instances of theme/type fulfillment all the
human Antichrists of the past, present, and future, they also have broader
analogical (symbolic) extensions that clearly point to our larger battle
with demonic spirits. Consider the following quote from my character Fr.
Bernie in Jacob. “The footnotes to the NAB at 2 Thessalonians 2:1-4
connect the deceiver of 2 Thessalonians 2 with the abomination references
in Daniel 11:36-37. The description of the lawless one/deceiver presented
at 2 Thessalonians 2 is verbally and conceptually identical to that of the
abomination described in Daniel.”
Taking this as sufficient to establish the two entities, the abomination
and the deceiver, as being the same, we are then stuck with the fact that it
takes manifestations of Christ’s return to kill the deceiver/abomination as
stated in 2 Thessalonians 2. But nothing so radical as the return of God to
earth has ever been required to depose a human political tyrant.
You may recall from the Old Testament that God arranged an illness
and military defeat for Antiochus Epiphanes, who, with his statute of Zeus
was an abomination to the faithful Hebrews. Scriptural sons have killed
royal fathers and biblical kings have been struck down with madness, etc.
This is all small stuff compared to the return of Christ. It just doesn’t take
God’s presence on earth to kill a human being.
However, if the deceiver/abomination is a major demonic spirit
immune by the will of God to anything but divine action until its purpose
for the harvest of souls has been served, then and only then does it make
sense that the manifestations of Christ’s return would be required to “kill
it.” [Note: My understanding is that demons aren’t actually killed in the
sense of going out of existence entirely; however, they can be rendered
“dead” to this world, permanently removed.]
Jacob, proposes that a demonic force, our main enemy, has now
appeared in powerful spiritual form and is actively obstructing our daily
lives, even deigning to interfere in the Holy Sacraments. This latter
manifestation in Church would seem to qualify as an instance of the
“abomination standing in the holy place.”
While such interferences are not new—the Bible is replete with
incidents of demonic possession—they seem to be taking a more
organized and focused form, and perhaps a more massive one. The theme
of Jacob is that the devil is presently orchestrating a vast plethora of
demonic attacks of various kinds. His aim is to totally subvert society,
dominate it, and put the world explicitly under his control and direction.
The Antichrist is making a bid to come to power.
The method the Antichrist uses to dominate society, however, doesn’t
have to involve evil political leaders. It can simply be powerful cultural
trends towards evil, sin, and negativity. Leaders don’t always direct the
course of the people; sometimes it works the other way round. This is
especially true in democratic societies.
I propose that our world is under massive assault from a demonic
surge that attempts to manifest evil in every aspect of our lives, from the
most personal up through small group behavior into international
relations. Should this assault fully succeed, even our best leaders will be
powerless to keep government unaffected in the long term.
The effects of these demonic intrusions into our lives extend over a
wide range. Within the domain of the very personal, demons try to
convert love to lust, because love is the Spirit of God and demons cannot
harm us while love is present.
To initially break through those defenses, demons seek to gain access
into our bodies by sexually attacking us in our sleep (not all erotic dreams
are innocent natural events). Their purpose is to get the physical sexual
chemistry flowing so they can create lifelong sexual addictions.
Supernaturally manipulating our bodies from the inside, they intensify the
sensory experience of small everyday expressions of our natural sexuality,
minor flirtations, artistic admiration of a beautiful body, etc., producing a
constant stream of artificially intense sexual chemistry that goes well
beyond the natural range of sexual reaction to that kind of experience.
These artificially exaggerated body chemistry effects, for all intents
and purposes, differ little from a super drug high. Unfortunately the
media, TV, movies, and magazines, have gotten on this “ubersexual”
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bandwagon to sell their products. Now everything we see all day long has
sexual cues in it. The whole thing has become a vicious cycle that feeds
on itself producing greater and greater levels of addiction.
Combining all these sexual cues with demonically intensified
responses basically drowns us in addictive sexual chemistry. Yes, it feels
good, to start, that is, until the demonic presence builds up and poisons us,
eventually adding a dark evil slant to the entire sexual experience, making
us very sick people.
The transition from pleasure to psychological illness is orchestrated by
the demon to be so gradual that people don’t see it happening. It’s boiled
frog syndrome again. Turn up the heat gradually and the frog doesn’t
think to jump out of the pot until he has been paralyzed by the heat. Once
the demons get access to our systems via this sexual trickery, they inject a
supernatural venom, very gradually at first. The poison builds up to a
point where we are immobilized by it, and demonic possession is the
result.
Months of church attendance, prayer and abstinence from sinful
behaviors, along with the Holy Sacraments of Confession and the
Eucharist are the only things that can save us at that point. Of course, we
should be doing those things regularly, in any case, but in modern society
not everyone does.
Given only natural stimulants, the levels of sexual chemistry that many
modern people now experience all through the day nearly every day
should only be occurring well into the love-making process, and within a
love-centered marriage. In that context, the sexual experience remains
positive and healthy. Addiction, psychological illness, and demonic
influence don’t occur from love-centered sex within a Christian marriage.
The sexual expression of Christian love within the Holy Sacrament of
marriage produces a pleasure and joy that is even more intense because
the demons are not there to foul it up with their putrid evil presence.
Sex within the marriage is a gift from God to enhance the marital
experience of love between man and wife. Christian love allows the union
of man and wife, whereas the demons’ goal is to separate us all from each
other, from all truth and reality, and from the Spirit of God. Their intent is
to fully isolate us, and then destroy us. They hate the entire human race
that has been made in the image of God.
The demon’s intent in producing sexual addiction is to get us to throw
away personal lifelong commitments in marriage, to make sex a
recreational game instead of an expression of love. When the addiction
reaches an overwhelming strength in our lives, the demons want us to
throw away everything that has meaning, especially love, and focus
exclusively on physical pleasure seeking: kill our children in abortion
because they slow down our addictive lifestyle; abandon our wives,
husbands and children in the home for the same reason; and go out in
search of a new, more exciting sexual experience.
The demon’s goal is to thwart the Holy Sacrament of Marriage and
destroy the traditional family structure. The family structure, in
combination with the Church, forms the only solid foundation a society
can have. When the family falls, a society falls with it.
In short the demons want us to throw away love, family, and church
for lust and physical pleasure. But, as with everything Satan does, in this
case even that physical pleasure is a lie; it is a demonically created
physiological fiction. The physiological effects are real, but the source is a
demonically generated false erotic stimulant.
Yes, the sexual experience based on love and occurring in marriage
involves intense physical pleasure, but the physical experience of sex in
marriage is different in that it comes from a different source: natural
physiology and supernatural love—love is the Spirit of God, the good
form of the supernatural. The intense physical “pleasure” of demonically
created sexual addiction comes from an evil source that reaches into our
bodies to artificially produce a heightened pseudo-sexual chemistry that is
unnatural. It isn’t real pleasure and it isn’t real sex; it is a poison that we
have failed to recognize as such, a poison with a physical chemistry so
close to the real thing that we are deceived until it paralyzes us.
To make a long story short: we’ve been had! We’ve been conned,
ripped off at the most personal level of our experience. This whole
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Western phenomena of sexually addictive culture is a huge
embarrassment to the human race because the entire thing is a lie. The
experience is not real! And it’s not natural.
The sexually addicted person is a victim of sexual abuse, and the
abuser is a demonic spirit. One has to pray for discernment to detect the
demon at work, but detect it you will if those prayers are offered. If you
find yourself thinking about sex all the time or have been drawn into the
hypersexual lifestyle, pray about it. Don’t be the victim of supernatural
sexual abuse.
The demonically engendered sexual experience per se has nothing of
love in it, and little of natural physiology. It is the equivalent of a purely
evil supernatural monster giving a person a drug injection to produce the
artificial chemical high. The content of that injection is the putrid evil
spirit of the demon. That evil spirit infects our human systems, producing
a fully addictive, but fully destructive experience of life.
Artificial sexual addiction is one of the devil’s big guns, but not the
only one. In other cases, the demonic infection produces a greedy drive to
be a millionaire, and in others the drive for personal power. When large
groups are infected, international dominance or racial superiority
movements may be the result. In other cases the demons drive us to seek
egotistical self-aggrandizement, produce an inordinate craving for social
status, obsessions with physical pleasure, etc.
Similar to the artificially exaggerated sexual experience phenomenon,
in these cases too the passion that drives the person towards the
experience and the pleasure derived from it is artificially intensified.
Rational consideration of more balanced and healthy approaches to
pursuing those goals is blocked by demonic interference and the affected
person becomes obsessed with pursuing a single-minded lifestyle. The
focus of that lifestyle might be power, status, money, sex, obsession with
hobbies, career advancement, rabid philosophies of nationalism or race
hatred, or a myriad of other things.
Hatred is a very strong emotion in physical terms. It produces an
intense body chemistry that is very addictive, similar to the chemistry of
sex, exercise, or laughter. Perhaps hatred is even more addictive than the
others because the affected person experiences a sense of power and a
feeling of being in control, in addition to pleasurable addictive chemistry
from the powerful emotion and a peace of mind derived from the
overpowering emotion having temporarily erased all memory of and
concern with the worries and burdens of everyday life.
The other addictive lifestyles, careerism, personal power- and statusseeking, obsession with wealth or impressive objects, intense pursuit of
hobbies, etc., in addition to the classic addictions to drugs and alcohol,
produce this derivative peace of mind effect as well by fully distracting
the person from concerns and burdens of life, while in some cases adding
some insulation against those concerns by increasing wealth or power.
When these pursuits become our highest concern in life they equate to
idolatry, supplanting God as our highest value and diminishing love and
concern for our fellow man. This sin opens the door to demonic spirits
during our conscious activities in addition to sleep access via the
subconscious. Demons then push the experience further and further along
until it assumes a negative dynamic and becomes very destructive to the
affected person and those around them.
In addition to minimizing the importance of other people and their
concerns, these obsessive greed- and power-oriented mental states also
tend to generate a disregard for the long-term health of our natural lifesustaining environment in favor of a short-term gratification of the
obsession. The effect of millions of people practicing such demonically
induced neuroses while employing modern industrial age technology has
been devastating. Earth has accumulated a toxic chemical burden that is in
the process of producing a mass extinction and die off of animal species
that could plausibly include the human race. Global warming effects are
now undeniable. Weather changes alone threaten the planet’s ability to
support human life.
Huge socio-political power dynamics can also be altered by demonic
intrusions. Racial hatred and conflict comes largely from demonic
instigation. Through history the cumulative effect of demonic
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interferences have ruined international relations, at times even driving us
from peace to war.
The theme of this novel, though spiced with humor and levity to
entertain, is a very serious theme. It is that those types of demonic attacks
and destructive influences are busily at work in our world today. Left
unaddressed by the Church, things could get worse in a hurry—as if they
weren’t bad enough already.
Thus, although I am very interested in a rigorous academic exposition
of the book of Revelation, and interested that someday we finally learn to
do it right, for my present purpose in this novel, I could care less if
someone wants to argue that this is or is not the great apostasy, the
Antichrist, the tribulation, or the final battle. While those themes do play
out in each generation, the present situation is so bad that the Church
cannot afford to lose any further ground to it.
These conflicts, being supernaturally powerful, affect us little human
beings so strongly in each of their iterations that we will always be
tempted to call them the final battle. And in a sense we will always be
correct when we do because that larger battle encompasses all the smaller
ones; it has been raging since Christ’s victory on the cross, some 2000
years ago.
So, you can call it whatever you like and place it where you prefer on
the prophetic timeline following your favorite authors and prophets. but
the fact remains that we are going to have to deal with this. It is
happening. And, because we risk catastrophic consequences if we ignore
it, simple attention to academic precision and caution in historical
scholarship is not going to be quite enough.
We are going to have to do something, as it says on the Doritos bag.
Each of us must fight his or her own part of this battle in real time. We
have to fight first for our own personal freedom from demonic
dominance, moral responsibility, and regain psychological balance in our
lives.
This requires moving away from all the negativity, away from a
preoccupation with racism, greed, power, pleasure, social status, material
possessions, and sexual lust to a focus on friendship, love, family, and
social justice. Stabilizing and reorienting our own life, getting free from
demonic domination, is the first step.
So, how is that done. It’s not complicated, but it can be difficult. It
requires patient effort over many months to several years—self-discipline
and persistence.
Sounds a bit intimidating, but the alternative, of course, is that things
just get worse. We have no choice but to try—and God will support us if
we ask for his help. With God on our side, success is assured in the long
run.
Here is what you do. First, make a firm decision to reject everything
the devil temps you with and turn to God for help. You (we) may (and
will) slip at times, but keep asking God’s forgiveness and coming back to
your decision to do better.
Go to Church regularly; that is where God delivers the most powerful
gifts of strength and healing—in Church. That’s where the real help is
found. You are going to need every bit of it.
Stay centered in love and friendship, positive emotions. This breaks
the devil’s grip and empowers prayer. This gets you 99% free of the
devil’s influence, but not totally free of his grasp.
There will come moments of supreme struggle when you will have to
resolve to break free of the devil using every ounce of willpower you
have. Exorcists tell us that it takes absolutely all the strength of will and
resolve a human can muster to break free of the devil when he poses his
last desperate move to hold onto us as we begin to break free. Ultimately
it comes down to making our decision for God and freedom with 100%
commitment. We must be fully resolved to break free of sin once and for
all. We will still slip now and then because we are imperfect humans and
the devil is supernaturally powerful, but we have to be fully resolved to
keep fighting when we do slip.
While it is mostly a matter of good old fashioned will power and a
final, permanent resolve to do the right thing, being aware of the devil’s
tricks can make the process a whole lot easier. As we all know by now,
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the devil is an inveterate liar and consummate con man. We have to learn
his tricks to get past his deceptions.
One of the devil’s tricks that can be particularly devastating to good
people trying to break free of his evil grasp is to poke thoughts into our
heads through the subconscious mind. We do not have to consider
ourselves failed in our rejection of sin when one of these thoughts pops
up; they are not from us; they are from him, the devil. We need only reject
the thought and replace it with something positive. There may be a
struggle involved, but as long as we do not affirm the thought and are
working to replace it we have not committed a sin.
The thought the devil likes to push on us the most is that we have
failed in our struggle against sin entirely—permanently—and that we
should now simply give up the struggle against sin forever, resign
ourselves to being condemned by God and going to hell. Don’t go there
girlfriends. It’s a lie. Jesus died on the cross so everyone who wants to
win the struggle against sin is guaranteed of winning it. It is just a lifelong
struggle, that’s all. But we will all win if we keep trying until we pass this
earth. God forgives our failures as long as we are trying.
So, don’t give up on yourself and condemn yourself as a failure when
the devil plants this thought in your mind. It’s just a trick that plays off the
structure of the human mind, the division between the conscious and
subconscious parts of the mind.
You are not a terrible sinner if the devil gives you dreams of sinful
things while you are asleep, though we should suggest to ourselves
positive thoughts as we retire for the evening and pray for protection in
our sleep. If you go to sleep seeking these kinds of sinful fantasies in your
dreams that’s different; that is a sin. However, if you do not want the
dreams and they occur anyway, it is not a sin; it’s just the devil poking
into your subconscious mind hoping you will choose to retain some of it
after you wake up.
This kind of mental intrusion can get really tricky when it occurs
during that grey area, the twilight mental state midway between sleep and
fully waking conscious awareness. The devil is a back-stabbing cheap-
shot artist. So, yes he will attack us there in the intermediate state when
we are not fully awake and not fully asleep. He will strongly suggest our
favorite sins and then try to convince us that it is our conscious decision to
accept and act out these sins. However, that can’t be true because we are
not yet fully conscious. Mortal sin requires free choice after rational
deliberation. Rational deliberation can only occur when we are fully
awake.
Don’t fall for it. Develop the mental habit to expect these deceptive
maneuvers in and immediately following sleep. Roll out of bed prepared
to shake off all thoughts except those required to get moving and begin
the day’s activities until you are fully awake. Don’t tolerate the
continuation of sinful fantasy dreams as you move from sleep to waking.
You will end up hypnotized, sleep walking through the day under the
devil’s influence. The results won’t be good.
Is the “average” person vulnerable to this kind of half-waking satanic
hypnosis? Maybe. Modern life has become complicated. For most young
healthy people “fully awake” occurs when they have been up and moving
around for twenty to thirty minutes. They aren’t vulnerable for long,
unless they are exhausted from work or getting too little sleep. For older
folks and people with health issues that cause fatigue or change body
chemistry, it may take an hour, possibly more.
Diabetes, cardiovascular illness, brain and nervous system infections,
alcohol and drug abuse, prior traumatic brain injuries from wartime
explosions or blows to the head, concussions from sports, chemical
injuries to the brain from toxic chemicals, long-term occupational
exposure to fuels or industrial solvents and adhesives, etc., can all weaken
the system and change brain and body function and chemistry. The result
can be a slower waking process or an outright aberrant mental state that
allows the devil to manipulate our thinking and behavior by poking
through the subconscious because our brain has been injured in a way that
impedes our attaining a fully conscious clarity of mind. We have to learn
our own systems and take care to guard against such vulnerable
moments..
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After attainment of a fully alert, conscious, waking state of mind we
should come back to the choice about the particular sins the devil was
suggested we should admit failure about. (We should also avoid pursuing
that sin consequent to the devil’s pushing until we reexamine our attitude
toward sin in the full light of day.) Ask yourself the same question at noon
in the bright sunlight. Only then will you know if you have fully given up.
Don’t let the devil convince you that you have failed by poking his
preferences into you sleepy mind. God only holds us accountable for what
we do with our conscious mind, not what bubbles up in the subconscious.
There is no point in giving up in any case. God doesn’t expect us to be
perfect in our battle against sin; he only expects us to choose to struggle
against it and to honestly prefer to live without it. Occasional events of
slipping back into sin don’t mean we haven’t chosen against sin; they
mean we had a strong habit and aren’t presently strong enough to break it
without some slips and more help from God. It means we are human. If
you have given up the fight against sin, the solution is simple. Change
your mind and try again. God will support you in that struggle.
God allows us time to improve and gradually win these struggles. He
forgives our slips and allows us to get up and try again. Don’t let the devil
trick you into giving up on yourself with these cheating tricks that aim to
produce hybrid states of partly conscious partly subconscious mental
activity. These states can occur in the middle of sleep as well as in the
early moments of waking in the morning.
We are not fully accountable for such mental activity because it
doesn’t involve fully consciousness and free rational deliberation. We are
responsible for our physical behavior, but even there, if the devil is
attacking us with supernatural force trying to coerce a sinful behavior
before we are completely awake, there is substantial mitigation from the
degree of coercion and the lack of fully conscious rational deliberation.
There is no full excuse for sinful behavior, but the sin can be moved from
the mortal category to the venial by such mitigating circumstances. Venial
sins won’t send us to hell; mortal sins will if we don’t repent them and
work to avoid recurrence.
On the other hand, embarking upon sleep while hoping to get a
favorite lurid sinful fantasy dream is a sin; it shows a tolerance for the sin,
an attachment to it, even a relishing of the sin. Jesus reminds us that
committing a sin in spirit is the same as acting it out. We aren’t allowed to
protect our pet sins while deceiving ourselves that we are really struggling
against them. Tolerating an indefinite repetition of the same sins because
we accept or prefer keeping the attachment to those sins involves a vice,
and does not qualify as honest effort. Tolerating a vice is a mortal sin that
must go to Confession and be future repetitions, while forgivable, must be
opposed with all our strength and will.
Coming back the other way, the final complication in all of this
sleeping-waking business is that when the demons actually physically
attack us with supernatural force, altering our physical and mental states
in powerful ways, then any sins we are induced to commit are largely
mitigated due to the severe coercion involved. They are still sins, but they
are not mortal sins. We are obligated to resist, but minus God’s
supernatural help, we will never out-wrestle a fallen angel. Prayer, the
Sacraments, and the Holy Mass will protect us in large part, but only in
the measure of our faith. Even a direct use of the Holy Rite of Exorcism
can take months to remove a demonic presence once established. It takes
an extended effort, patience and endurance, to win this struggle against
the forces of evil. If there is a secret to success it is to stay centered in
love and trust fully in God’s goodness; put the situation in his hands.
So, don’t give up on yourself when a heavy demonic attack engenders
sin. But do confess and ask forgiveness for the part of the sin that came
from your own attachment to that sin or from your moral weakness in not
holding out further in the struggle to avoid committing the sin.
Getting supernaturally bullied like this doesn’t necessarily mean you
are presently choosing sin over faith. It means either you previously
picked up an attachment to one or more sins and the associated demons
are leveraging the opportunity, or someone in your circle of acquaintances
is practicing sorcery (witchcraft, voodoo, etc.) of one kind or another and
has targeted you specifically. If the attack is heavy, it probably means
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both are involved.
Requesting an exorcism from the Catholic Church is a good idea in
such a case, but the attachment to the sin must be addressed to preclude
recurrence. The attachment to the sin must be broken and the sin expiated.
This is normally accomplished by months of prayer and fasting and
reception of the Holy Sacraments of Confession and the Eucharist.
Fasting by the way, doesn’t mean you avoid food entirely (that can harm
your digestive system). It means you eat less, usually one meal with fish
instead of a heavy meat, and one light to moderate snack.
Eating less assists in achieving a mental state where we can remove
our focus from things physical and enter a lightness of spirit that assists
fruitful meditation on the Word of God. This is primarily done by
lowering blood sugar to slow the pace of mental activity and to remove
the heavy distraction of ongoing digestion, but there may be other
complementary factors involved. By releasing our attention from earthly
concerns, such a state facilitates a closer communion with the Church in
Heaven.
When we are just mildly weakened by a light diet we are not tempted
to get out and do active physical things, so we are more likely to remain
quiet and stationary long enough to accomplish some fruitful religious
prayer and meditation. In modern life, we need all the help we can get to
escape from the incessant distractions and spending any real quality time
with God. As God says in the Bible, “be still and know that I am God.”
(Psalms 46:11 NABRE) Once you start getting some real religious
meditation going, the devil won’t hang around long.
The meditative state of mind is the goal of fasting; it is not a hunger
strike. Everyone’s digestive system is a little different, so be careful not to
overdo the food reduction and injure yourself.
As far as dealing with individuals practicing sorcery in the
neighborhood goes, about all you can do is pray and take care to remove
any objects that may have found their way into your possessions, burning
them where possible. Consult Father Gabriele Amorth’s books for further
guidance: An Exorcist Tells His Story, and An Exorcist: More Stories.
Suffering supernatural attacks that coerce the commission of sins
typically means that through the habitual commission of prior sins we
have given the devil an open door and a roadmap to our souls. He will
follow those directions forever after, hitting us in weak moments when we
are not sufficiently protected by practicing our faith. Once the devil learns
the way to our door, even though we choose to do the sin no more, as long
as a subconscious attachment to the sin remains, he can beat the door
down and coerce a repetition of the sin by entering through the
subconscious. At least this is the way I have come to understand the
situation from personal experience and study.
Heavily coerced sins aren’t mortal; they are venial, but they are sins.
The risk is that they will be tolerated over the long term and become a
vice. The longer a sin is tolerated the deeper the attachment becomes.
Once again, tolerating a vice is a mortal sin. The Catechism of the
Catholic Church (CCC) has a good discussion of sin beginning at CCC
1846.
We humans are sinners, a fallen race. Fortunately we are not a
condemned race. We can be saved by the grace of God, but the tendency
for sin to recur will always be present throughout our lives. Fortunately,
God forgives us and does not want us to ever give up on ourselves. It’s a
lifelong struggle.
Most fortunately, it is a struggle that Christ has already won on our
behalf. Jesus gift of atonement for our sins on the cross assured us all of
eventual victory over sin—if we try, try, and try again. It’s a free gift—a
magnificent one. But to receive that gift of victory over sin when we die,
we must fight the good fight while we are here, though we will never fully
win that struggle based upon our own merits alone.
Once we regain control of ourselves and get back to church and a
regular practice of our faith to maintain that control, there is much work
waiting to be done in many areas: direct support to the Church,
missionary work, evangelistic outreach, deliverance prayer ministry,
charitable work, work for social justice and better government, and the
fight to save the planet from global warming.
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The global warming problem is a relatively new awareness for the
Church, but the problem is already urgently in need of attention. We have
to pitch in to fight this battle, reduce energy consumption, move our
personal behaviors and national policies away from fossil fuel burning to
solar power, wind and water power, and safe environmentally shepherded
forms of nuclear energy production.
Each person must make a contribution to this particular battle, though
their primary personal focus may be in one of the other areas. Our
individual contributions will add up to an amazing success because God
will provide generous matching funds once he sees we are doing our part.
The good news is that being a good loveable Christian person is
contagious. It starts a fire of the Holy Spirit in the people one meets,
potentially creating an avalanche of positive healing, a forest fire of
spiritual renewal in the community. So light up! Pray for healing and
deliverance, and get back to the love of the Christian community at
church. Be the flaming brazier in the forest that the prophetic books
celebrate that gets the renewal started in your neighborhood!
Many Christians have been quietly doing this all along, of course, but
the time has come to be not quite so quiet. We must hold on to humility
and avoid egotistic approaches, but raising the alarm at this point is key to
raising recruitment and increasing individual effort.
The nitpicky approach of academic theology is not the answer to the
present crisis, though the firm conclusions the academics have achieved
(if endorsed by the Church) do help to inform it to some extent. Academia
cannot, for fully legitimate reasons, move in real time. Therefore, the
quest for academic consensus is misapplied when offered as a limiting
factor to the initiation of a real-time battle-focused ministry. How we go
to battle has to be informed by Church teachings, but we can’t wait for the
university scholars to all come to agreement before we pitch in and begin
the fight to save a dying planet, an injured Church, and our own
demonically afflicted souls.
Deliverance ministry cannot contradict Church dogma, but it does not
have to await a blessing from a quorum of theological experts in academia
to assume the field of battle, It must avoid incorrectly putting lay
ministers into the role of the Bishop’s formally appointed exorcists,
however. This is dangerous because it is a role laymen and laywomen are
not authorized or equipped to perform safely or with proper effect.
Jacob urges readers to respond now to the demonic assault that is
currently underway by increasing their faith and actions for the Church in
all the typical ways lay persons normally contribute, except with more
vigor, and with an addition of constant and compassionate prayer for
healing and deliverance.
Love, forgiveness, real personal concern, and holiness are the key
factors that will drive the success rate of the healing and deliverance
efforts. The same virtues form the basis for success in efforts to clear
away supernatural barriers to successful environmental and social justice
actions. The “PA System” works. Issuing prayer before taking action
removes supernatural barriers that would otherwise defeat human
effort.
So, let’s answer the call of Pope Francis, use the PA System, and dig
in to our own little part of the world—get something done. Given that we
can easily discern that the battle is well underway today, including major
happenings in the spiritual dimension, we would be fools to sit around on
our hands waiting until the equivalent of Emperor Nero appears to lead a
one-world government before we form an active opposition.
One of the dangers of confusing the larger scriptural sense of
“Antichrist” with the narrower references to “the Beast” in Revelation is
that we will attempt to pose no resistance to present efforts to get the
Antichrist’s social foundation and organizational support structure up and
running. Once that foundational structure is fully built it will be too late to
prevent the human Antichrist from simply stepping in and taking
possession of society. As radio commentator Paul Harvey made clear
enough, the construction of the launching pad for the future Antichrist
has long been under way.
Waiting to begin work until the historical event of the appearance of
the human Antichrist as world leader is tantamount to waiting until the
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battle is largely over in any case—lost! One doesn’t wait for defeat to
start the war.
To remain always waiting for yet another, yet another, and yet another,
evil human to appear (after all those evil leaders we have already had)
prior to joining battle is simply to waste valuable resources, effectively
rendering the Church impotent, incapable of response—and to eschew
common sense. This gives away far too much ground to our enemy. This
approach to prophecy of always postponing the call to battle may in fact
even be sponsored by Antichrist. Certainly he must favor it. If a human
Antichrist does appear later, he/she/it will simply be in a much stronger
position for our having failed to take action today.
Let’s not do that to our Church, family and friends of the future. Let’s
make the full investment, our best effort, in the Church today. If we fail to
respond to the spiritual form of the Antichrist and abomination now, the
human Antichrist will be a shoe-in later, further empowered by our lack
of resistance and lack of contributions to strengthening the Church. A
future more malevolent human Antichrist may or may not be predestined
and unavoidable. Birch says it is predestined, and, if the Church agrees
with him, so be it. I take no specific exception here to his view, but we
don’t have to obligingly cooperate by burying our heads in the sand while
Satan scurries about in our backyard today laying the foundations for the
disintegration of all that is good and holy in society.
I therefore ask you in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to join the
battle against Antichrist today. Please pray about it.
Yes, all the prophecies of the Bible are fascinating to contemplate, but
in contemplating them we should realize that their purpose is to call the
reader to constructive action in his or her own lifetime, not merely
entertain us with dramatic and mysterious apocalyptic stories. We may
not be able to prevent the events of Revelation, but what we can do is
substantially minimize their tragic effects. We do this by investing our
effort in the Church’s side of the Christ vs. Antichrist struggle today.
That struggle permeates the lives of all generations and extends
through all the centuries since Christ’s birth. Considering the battle of the
god-fearing Maccabees against the abomination of Antiochus IV
Epiphanes one can properly say that that battle began even before Christ’s
birth. He who has seen the Son has seen the Father, and in a sense he who
has defended the Father has defended the Son.
Are we experiencing the defining instance of Revelation 9, Abaddon
leading a horde of demons out of the abyss to torment the earth? Is it a
case of the devil being released from the pit for a little while as in
Revelations 20? Are these two passages referring to the same event?
Maybe, maybe not, but clearly we are under assault and experiencing a
heavy demonic incursion.
Father Gabriele Amorth, Chief Exorcist at the Diocese of Rome, has
been warning of this for years in his books, and the news headlines have
been screaming the same thing to anyone with an ounce of discernment.
Am I trying to ratchet everyone up into a fevered state of panic (“End
Times Fever”), causing folks to run around like chickens with their heads
off, risking social disorder and chaos?
No. No chaos, no headless chickens. I am only asking people to plug
themselves into a safe form of deliverance prayer ministry, to support the
environmental crusades, to work at the social justice efforts, and to take
political action to save the unborn child from abortion. Nothing really new
there. But what is new is that I am recommending we do these things with
an increased sense of urgency.
In addition to the demonic surge, global warming is seriously
increasing stressors on society. Given the decline of the traditional family,
which, with the Church and our schools forms the primary cohesive fabric
that holds society together into a functional system, we are going to
individually have to make increased efforts to compensate. We have to
rebuild faster than the destructive forces tear down. Otherwise, our system
fails. Then chaos erupts and barbaric forms of pagan power-oriented
social dynamics return: the bad old days.
At this point we are going to have to work intensively to hold onto a
God-fearing, equality-based and environmentally sensitive civilization—
or we’re going to lose it. It took centuries of heroic struggle, with millions
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of lives lost in wars for freedom and struggles for equal rights, to build
our modern god-fearing, rule-of-law societies. We have to work to
preserve what those good people of the past gave their blood, sweat, and
tears to create, whether they were Christian, Moslem, Buddhist, or just
good-hearted caring secular folks with a concern to preserve rule of law
and human rights..
The “fight” we are engaged in against forces of evil is not won by
means of a violent Jihad, though it is a holy war. Rather, this fight is won
by actively building and rebuilding the positive elements of society faster
than the forces of negativity can tear them down. For that to happen,
everybody must plug themselves into some kind of effort. Prayer ministry
at home and on the streets makes as big a contribution as anything else.
Prayer is the most powerful thing we can do outside worship at church
and receipt of the Holy Sacraments. Without prayer and worship to garner
God’s support, none of our efforts will succeed in the long run: Satan will
merely overwhelm them with supernatural force.
Left Behind tells us we won’t have to fight the worst of the last battle
because we will be pulled up off the earth in a rapture event when things
get too bad. This, while well-intended, is theologically wrong. For some,
it may take away too much motivation and sense of urgency. What we
need to do today is step up to our part in the last battle with evil, not step
out on the porch to be picked up by angels so we can skip it.
This is not strictly a fundamentalist Protestant vs. Catholic issue. Other
scholars and theologians, even Catholic ones, seem to be telling us that
because what they consider to be the prerequisites for the final physical
battle with the human antichrist have not been satisfied, we should, to be
academically correct, and to avoid the noxious sin of “End Times Fever,”
not presently announce the last battle at all. This although the world is
visibly, as Father Amorth indicates, already being overrun by a demonic
surge.
There are situations where a concern to avoid panic is appropriate, but
when the day of battle arrives and all hands are needed on deck at battle
stations one cannot refuse to announce the battle even if the academics are
uncertain which battle it is. Should Paul Revere not have rode through the
countryside announcing “the British are coming” for fear of inducing
panic? If your boat is taking on water, holding off the instruction to start
bailing for fear of panic is not going to help. You have to bail water to
stay afloat. That is where we are today. We can’t bury our heads in the
sand any longer. It is time to go to work and start bailing.
Otherwise, society is going to sink.
The current crisis deserves a response, and there is an underlying
supernatural element that must be addressed to achieve a full solution.
That’s really all this book is saying. That, and that the response must
include not only work at the individual level, but also aggressive action by
the institutional Church. While evil will not completely prevail against the
Church, it may do tragic damage otherwise preventable by a full official
mobilization of Church resources.
In my opinion, although I will never criticize priests and bishops,
catechists and the others who serve the Church because I am painfully
aware that they are doing much more than I ever have to make things
better, I will offer this much criticism of the official Church as an
institution. While the individual efforts of everyone in the Church have
been exceptional, selfless, and heroic, I think the Church as an institution
has missed the boat, as it were. on two important issues.
For several decades now the socially and politically active laity have
needed but been deprived of the Church’s full resources to do two very
important things: 1) mount an effective campaign to amend the U.S.
Constitution to outlaw abortion from the moment of conception; and 2)
create new political parties that, while not governed by or organizationally
intertwined with or otherwise beholden to the Church, offer a platform of
positions on the issues that match all the Church’s major concerns.
Both of these tasks involve counteracting enormous opposing social
forces. Without the facilities of the Church to hold meetings, without the
bulletins and newspapers of the Church to get the word out, without a
strong call to action from the bishops, day-to-day encouragement from
parish priests for social activist organization members, and multi-million
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dollar donations from the Church to the nonprofit organizations that take
these tasks on, change in these areas just isn’t going to happen. The
opposed social organizations and political parties have this magnitude of
resources and they have learned to use them effectively. We need the
Church to fully commit its organizational, financial, communications, and
administrative support to these tasks. Some work has been done along
these lines, but it is a small fraction of what is necessary to offset the
massive opposed socio-political forces.
Pope Francis’ call to crusade to save the environment has brought into
even sharper contrast the dilemma Catholics face in the voting booths:
throw away the environment with the Republicans or throw away children
with the Democrats. Catholics don’t have acceptable choices at the
polls—period.
Merely telling lay people they should be more politically active is not
enough to correct this problem. The problem of creating new Catholiccompatible political party platforms can only be solved by the investment
of tens of millions of dollars (probably hundreds of millions) and making
the full use of Church facilities, publications, and staff support available
to those trying to do these enormous jobs. Otherwise, we will always be
outgunned; our efforts against abortion and for the environment, human
rights, immigration reform, and economic and social justice will continue
to fall short.
To me it is fully incongruous for the bishops to (correctly) remind us
that our immortal soul is at risk if we don’t vote for life and against the
intrinsic evil of abortion at the polls, and the pope to (correctly) remind us
that we need an urgent crusade to save the planet, and then not to offer the
level of resources required to put the proper choices on the ballot. The
Church is the only source available to obtain that magnitude of resources.
Most other holders of large resource pools are already committed to either
the democratic or republican agenda, or to a fundamentalist Christian
approach that is not compatible with Catholic views.
Lay Catholics themselves are donated-out, as it were, after all the
special collections and Red Cross drives to support untold millions of
victims of seemingly unending tragedies around the world. A special
collection could be taken for these purposes but the Church will end up
paying for it anyway because lay donors are already donating the
maximum their situations permit. What they give for a drive for an antiabortion amendment to the Constitution and the construction of new
political parties will have to be taken from what they are already giving to
other Church causes and secular charities.
Even the most casual student of military history knows that enormous
advance logistical preparation is required to win a major war. If the
Church did invest heavily in these two tasks, a constitutional amendment
prohibiting abortion and the creation of new political parties, private
donors with good judgment who tend to invest in either Democratic or
Republican causes, could feel it was a safer risk to invest further in these
efforts as well, seeing for the first time some real practical chance to
succeed.
Citizens have been trying, but they need far greater resources to
succeed. The National Committee for a Human Life Amendment,
NCHLA, reports that “since 1973 more than 330 Human Life Amendment
proposals have been introduced in Congress.” Several congressional
hearings have been held on abortion and related right to life issues, and, in
1983 the U.S. Senate held a vote on a right to life amendment but it
garnered an insufficient number of votes to pass. Without the Church
throwing the full weight of its financial, administrative, and logistical
resources behind this effort we are not going to get the needed amendment
to the U.S Constitution granting the unborn child the right to life.
Enough said on the practical side of things. The Doritos bag is right; it
is time to do something, and that includes the Church as an institution
holding enormous resources as well as its individual members. Now let’s
return to end times theology and try to tie up a few loose ends.
----------
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Could Christ’s Return Really Be Imminent?
In my understanding, the answer to that question is “Yes.” While the
Bible does establish some prerequisites to Christs return, this is done in a
general conceptual way without specifying the details. The analysis I
present in this section suggests that there are no remaining hard and fast
prerequisites to the Lord’s return known to us, though there may be some
further prerequisites known to God that remain to be satisfied.
Further, as I understand the teaching of the Church, Christ’s return has
always been held to be imminent. (Catechism of the Catholic Church,
673). Christ himself exhorted us to be watchful for he would come at an
unexpected hour.
On the surface of things, of course, a biblical case might be made for
some remaining prerequisites to Christ’s return. Mark 13, perhaps more
than any other reference, seems to lay out hard and fast prerequisites for
the Lord’s return. However, Jesus did not clarify in concrete and detailed
terms how these prerequisites would be fulfilled. We do not know his
specific intentions. Only he, and/or God the Father, knows the concrete
details of how these conceptual prerequisites must be fulfilled to satisfy
God’s will in the matter. Only God the Father knows the day/hour of
Christ’s return, and there are no interpretive tricks that can get us around a
divine “media blackout.”
God is not telling us the time of Christ’s return, and he is not allowing
us to indirectly deduce it either. God has a purpose in doing it this way.
By creating a genuine expectation that Christ could return for judgment at
any time, God defeats the human tendency to procrastinate and lie to
ourselves that we will do the hard stuff tomorrow (certainly by next
month). Naturally, putting off leading an authentic Christian life until the
signs begin to look more ominous/joyous is just going to land us in
Purgatory, or worse. This is one reason we won’t know the time of
Christ’s return: we are the reason. More specifically our lack of selfdiscipline is the reason.
This is kind of a tricky concept: there are prerequisites to Christ’s
return, but we don’t have the concrete details of them, only God does. But
this is not as strange as it may sound. Prerequisites can still be definite
even though they are only broadly defined in abstract conceptual terms.
Times, places, and faces need not be given for a prerequisite to be
genuine. Just because a broad abstract definition of a prerequisite doesn’t
satisfy our insatiable curiosity about the future doesn’t mean it can’t serve
God’s very different purposes. God may not want to tell us that much
about the future in concrete terms. Knowing the future takes our focus off
living a good Christian life today and, for some who possess less selfdiscipline than they need, puts it on developing a strategy to optimize
what we can get from selfish pursuits before we have to knuckle down
and follow the rules again.
Thus, we can have the situation where Christ himself (or one of his
primary apostles such as St. Paul at 2 Thessalonians 2) seems to lay out
firm conceptual prerequisites to Christ’s return for final judgment, and it
still be correct for us to say that as far as any Christian has known since
the time of St. Paul it has always been correct to say that Christ could
have returned on any day of their lives.
Because closely similar themes in salvation history visibly, and
sometimes dramatically, recur, a review of Church history since the first
century provides copious alternatives that might satisfy the conceptual
prerequisites for Christ’s return as far as we know. God, of course, may
know differently.
It could be, for example, that the extensive travels of St. Paul and the
other apostles in the first three centuries satisfied Christ’s intentions that a
witness be given to all nations (that is, all nations of the time), or that the
extensive evangelism and missionary work that has occurred since has
satisfied the Lord’s intentions.
In any case, it is clear that in the same chapter, Mark 13, Christ both
admitted that he did not know the day or the hour of his return (only God
the Father knows that day) and that he exhorted his disciples in the
strongest terms to be watchful for his return, without specifying time or
event prerequisites. Thus, Christ himself was teaching that, as far as it was
possible for humans to know, Christ could return at any time after the
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Apostle’s initial heroic and monumental effort at evangelizing the known
civilized world of the time. While the modern Church is certainly tasked
to continue evangelizing the planet as long as it remains, the only portion
of that ongoing task that can legitimately be considered a prerequisite to
the Lord’s return is the part Christ himself assigned to his apostles. That
part was demonstrably and heroically satisfied by the apostles, signed in
their own blood in many cases.
In the most excellent treatment of end times questions referenced
earlier, Eschatology: Death and Eternal Life (in Johann Auer’s Dogmatic
Theology series, #9), Joseph Ratzinger (later Pope Benedict XVI) tells us
that it is both true that the requirement that the Gospel be preached to all
the world seems to have been satisfied as of the times of the apostles, and
that the sign will never be fully satisfied so long as there are humans on
earth. This means that, unless Christ is to return to judge a dead planet
(contrary to 1 Cor 15:51-52), the most extreme and literal sense of this
particular sign cannot be used as a hard prerequisite to Christ’s return.
It was possible for the “witness to all nations” to have been satisfied
(as far as we know) within the lifetime of Jesus’ original apostles and
disciples (including St. Paul), and certainly within a century or two after
Christ’s Ascension. It is an accepted fact of theology that many of
Christ’s disciples expected him to return in their lifetime. Are we to
expect that when his disciples earnestly beseeched their master for the
signs announcing his return the most just and compassionate man and
most loyal friend who ever walked the earth chose to fake out his closest
friends and supporters, many fated to crucifixion themselves, while
reserving the truth about his return for modern scholars? I don’t think so.
Similar considerations apply to St. Paul laying out the events of the
great apostasy and the revelation of the deceiver as prerequisites to
Christ’s return at 2 Thessalonians 2. An event satisfying the conceptual
requirements of these prerequisites must occur, but must it involve a
human Antichrist in our future with “worldwide” political dominion that
literally spans the physical globe of Earth? No. The descriptions given of
these events by St. Paul are too general—all the concrete details are
missing. The phrase “entire world” in Jesus day typically referred to the
Roman empire, the charted “civilized” world reachable by ship or
caravan, not the physical planet. It might so happened that this sign is to
be fulfilled that way (with a truly global antichrist); tradition may strongly
expect it to be fulfilled that way; God may have both foreseen and
revealed to some via private gifts in the Spirit that it will be fulfilled that
way, but the raw logical-conceptual-linguistic content of the text of the
Bible does not require it.
So far as I have been able to determine, the teaching magisterium of
the Church does not at present require it either. Nero, and the antiChristian Roman emperors, along with Hitler and Stalin and several other
regional tyrants might have satisfied 2 Thessalonians 2 in terms of the
appearance of Antichrist, and the great apostasy prerequisite might have
been satisfied by the emperor-worshipping Romans or the atheistic
Communists. The two events of Antichrist and the great apostasy needn’t
fully overlap. God’s view of an event timeline is unavoidably going to be
much broader than our own.
A strong argument can be made that St. Paul’s statements in 2
Thessalonians 2:3-12 signify a demonic spirit as opposed to a human
being. Whatever the “lawless one”/deceiver is, it was already present and
working as of the writing of Thessalonians. It is the revelation of the
deceiver, not his advent, that is the yet to be fulfilled prerequisite to
Christ’s return.
Further corroboration for the demonic hypothesis is to be found in the
fact that the deceiver is a “power,” which is a common biblical term for a
fallen angel, a demonic spirit. Also, the deceiver/“lawless one” is
“doomed to perdition.” No human being is doomed to perdition prior to
his or her death because of our radical freedom to accept the salvation of
Christ. My understanding of Church teaching is that no one knows the
final disposition of anyone’s soul except God. So it would seem
inappropriate for God to be telling us the disposition of the human
Antichrist’s soul in advance. Fallen angels, however, are known to be
doomed. It therefore makes more theological sense that the “Antichrist,”
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“deceiver,” “abomination,” and “lawless one…doomed to perdition”
passages refer to Satan or other fallen angels, demonic spirits. A future
human Antichrist still qualifies as exemplifying the same theme but he is
not the primary example and most fully qualifying example of that theme.
Another line of argument that the deceiver/“lawless one” is not a
human being is that because it requires a powerful act of the Holy Spirit
integral to the manifestation of Christ’s return to kill it, the deceiver is not
human. God can easily arrange for other humans to kill a human
antichrist, and angels could do it more easily yet. One angel killed many
tens of thousands of Assyrian soldiers in a single night. It doesn’t take a
major act of the Holy Spirit and the very manifestation of Christ’s return
to kill a human being.
Thus, my interpretation in Jacob closely comports with what St. Paul
has told us at 2 Thessalonians 2 and Ephesians 6: the deceiver is a
demonic power. It has been here all along. Its mysterious and largely
hidden workings closely match up to my thesis of a satanic subpopulation
that secretly collaborates with demons behind the scenes.
That evil community “cheats” by calling upon supernatural
intervention from the devil to invisibly steer the course of events in favor
of their selfish personal interests. Satanists are in turn manipulated by the
devil, the demonic form of Antichrist. Their collective behavior is
orchestrated by Satan to morally degrade society and produce mass
apostasy.
Satan’s goal in all of this is to defeat the Church, but Christ’s victory
on the cross is irrevocable, albeit manifested more in the spiritual
dimension of Christ’s kingdom than in the physical world. The forces of
darkness will never overcome the spiritual Church, no matter how much
apostasy and moral decay takes hold in the rest of society.
So what is our conclusion concerning Antichrist? Despite the fact that
Nero seems our best candidate for the literal sense of the Beast prophecy
in Revelation, and despite the fact that Hitler and Stalin did more damage
still, might there be another human Antichrist after all the ones we have
already had? Yes, of course. He or she might even come to world
domination. But the point I am trying to make about interpretation of
scripture is that we are not required to read-in “human” every time the
“deceiver/lawless one,” “Beast,” “abomination,” or “Antichrist” is
mentioned. The symbolic sense of those scripture passages allows for a
demonic spirit. In some cases the scripture requires a demonic entity as
Antichrist/deceiver where that entity is seen to have been acting over time
spans far exceeding the life of a human being, or is impervious to being
“killed” except by a special act of God that closes out the deceiver’s role
in the harvest of souls event dynamic of the latter days.
“End Times Fever?”
If (as the Catechism teaches) Christ’s return has always been
imminent, and if (as Pope Benedict XVI wrote as Cardinal Ratzinger in
the “Theological Commentary” section of The Message of Fatima) it is a
valid prophetic office to interpret the meaning of the present time, how
can it be wrong to announce the last battle if one has arrived at that
discernment merely by reading the signs of the present? One is free to
disagree, and to make an opposing case, but, in my view, this is neither
heresy, anathema, noxious sin, nor “End Times Fever.” It is simply an
honest acknowledgment that the hour is late and that major events of
Revelation are in progress, including a demonic surge. Of course,
nonverbals count, that is, the manner in which the announcement is
delivered can make all the difference to the effect it produces. If one is
running around in a panic screaming bloody murder, then, of course, it is
End Times Fever. But if one is closely examining the Bible, calmly but
seriously evaluating present signs, and concluding that it is time to get
back to Church or face further catastrophic decline as a society, it is a
fully legitimate prophetic insight. Merely to ascribe some degree of
urgency to this warning does not constitute End Times Fever.
Things can occasionally get that way in spiritual battle; they can
become urgent. The Antichrist has been at work here for over 2,000 years
already. He has mercilessly tortured and killed many of the best of the
best the Church has had to offer, including Sts. Peter and Paul. The
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Catechism itself announces the final assault of evil as an inevitable event,
and explains that our battle with evil is comprised of recurrent and
ongoing typological manifestations of Antichrist (CCC 675-677 & 680).
Presumably the ebb and flow of battle will produce moments of
greater or lesser intensity. Are we to ignore the intense phases completely
as if nothing whatsoever was wrong? Revelation was written for the
express purpose of reassuring the faithful of their participation in Christ’s
ultimate victory despite such traumatic events. It would seem appropriate
to echo the themes of the Apocalypse in modern prophecy when events do
become intense. What after all do we expect the last battle to be, a cake
walk with door prizes!!!??? It is not always going to be that easy.
However much emphasis the present signs are held to deserve, the
time to act in faith with a rationally governed but still genuine sense of
urgency has always been now. Today, now is the only time things get
done, as we all know from experience. Procrastination becomes less and
less a tolerable defect as the urgency of the task mounts. I therefore urge
the reader to pray for the gift of discernment of spirits. If you do I am
confident that God will bless you with the ability to perceive that demonic
powers are presently interfering with our Church, obstructing the Holy
Sacraments of Confession, Baptism, Marriage, and Confirmation—even
Holy Orders. They are interfering with prayer, and with a whole lot
more—that’s before we even get to the horrors of war and criminal
violence in the news headlines.
Demonic powers cannot thwart the divine efficacy of the Holy
Sacraments—true, but they are blocking people from “getting there” to
receive them, contaminating the experience of receiving the Sacraments,
obstructing the physical implementation of the Sacraments, and heavily
distracting participants at Mass. I read this as being one form of the
manifestation of the abomination that causes desolation.
Here and now, then, for those gifted to discern it, is the abomination
standing in the holy place, albeit in a spiritual demonic form. There were
prior instances (Antiochus IV, Caligula, desecration of Cathedrals during
the French Revolution, etc.) and there may be future instances of the
abomination, but I contend that here and now we have an instance of the
abomination that is also genuine. It is having substantial negative impacts
on the Church.
Does this current evil surge then satisfy Christ’s own criterion for our
knowing that he is truly near, even at the gates, or must that await the
worldly manifestations subsequent to the human form of the Antichrist? I
don’t think we will ever know the answer to that question (until Christ
does return). Christ’s purpose in making such statements was to reassure,
not to ground specific predictions. He was saying the equivalent of “I
won’t be tolerating this very long!” or “Don’t worry, it won’t last forever;
I’ll be coming back soon to fix it.”
I will leave you to argue the finer points of how much specificity can
be extracted from various prophecies with Desmond Birch and Yves
DuPont, who, in my opinion, tend to expect too much specificity from
prophecy. But, coming back the other way, in his impeccably documented
book, Angels, Billy Graham says the current demonic activity might be a
sign of Christ’s imminent return. Who is going to step up and accuse
Reverend Billy Graham of End Times Fever? Not me; and my personal
view is that I have seen all the demonic signs I ever care to see!
Still, one doesn’t want to miss the signs either. They are there for a
reason. It makes sense that the signs of the return of a heavenly kingdom
not of this world would be manifested in large part in the spiritual
dimension. “My kingdom is not of this world….”
Birch, DuPont and other traditionalists remain tightly focused upon
expositing the physical events that comprise what they take to be a linear
historical timeline of the book of Revelation. Their concern is largely with
worldly manifestations of each prophecy—they tend to ignore the
spiritual dimension—and they seem concerned to identify only the one
most quintessential instance for each event type in a given prophecy.
Their approach ignores the fact that each of the main events of prophecy
defines a theme that extends back to Christ’s birth in Bethlehem (and even
earlier), a theme that continues forward to the last moments of this world
at Christ’s return for final judgment.
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While formulating a linear chronological timeline with only the most
dramatic examples of each biblical theme on it does comport with most
“traditional” and most popular approaches to reading Revelation, it does
not serve God’s full purpose in giving us Revelation. The purpose of
Revelation is to guide each generation through similar events. The
oversimplified “traditionalist” approach, while strongly grounded in
human traditions does not serve God; it only serves human curiosity about
knowing the future, and it is egocentric, tending to shift emphasis from
the prior to the present generation as time goes on. There is a
contradiction built into this approach. The major events of Revelation
can’t simultaneously be in the near future of people living two thousand
years ago, in our near future, and in the near future of people living two
thousand years from now.
Yes, there is a Church tradition that moves along these lines, citing the
Fathers and Doctors of the Church and John Cardinal Newman, but we
have to remember that what was in their future could be in our past (or
present). Once we allow that this could be true, what is left of the
traditional argument for an Antichrist at the very end is merely a feeling
that the end times as referenced in prophecy should be the very end where
things will take a uniformly downhill slide into a terrible apostasy
resolved only by Christ’s return for final judgment.
However, the most literal sense of this kind of reading where the very
end is defined as the last 100-200 years and no qualifying events that
constitute manifestations of Antichrist occur prior to those last two
centuries is just a personal feel for the language and concepts of
Revelation by those predisposed to a literalist approach to Bible
interpretation; it is not a Catholic Church tradition where “Tradition” has
a capital ‘T’ and is held to be inviolate.
Church tradition says the end times began with Christ’s birth. While
Church tradition says the Antichrist will appear at the end in conformation
with the book of Revelation it does not specify the precise time frame and
does not rule out other manifestations of the antichrist theme, including
demonic spirits being the primary actors behind the scenes.
When we consider that for God one day is like a thousand years and
vice versa, we see that the final phase of the latter days could be a very
long time. Within that period of time a lot of variation could take place
and many examples of the recurring themes of prophecy could occur,
many or all of which might warrant our notice and a well-considered
energetic response.
It is well-established that the book of Revelation was written primarily
for the Christians of the first three or four centuries, yet the
“traditionalist”/popular view is that it is largely about our future, no
matter which century we happen to be living in. That is egocentric. In
doing it that way we ignore both the place of honor given to the first three
or four centuries of Christian history for which the book was primarily
intended as well as all the other centuries between those centuries and our
own where millions of Christians were martyred and suffered under
despotic and atheistic regimes whose societies certainly manifested the
themes of antichrist and apostasy. Yes, Revelation is about “the End” but
“the End” began 2,000 years ago with the birth of Jesus Christ.
Events on God’s timeline can be very big, and God is concerned to
give guidance to every generation not just to ours and those that come
after us. The popular religion, fundamentalist, and Catholic
“traditionalist” approaches get hung up on the phrase “whole world” or
“entire world” or similar phrases that seem to imply a one-world globespanning government headed by a human Antichrist. We have to
remember that the phrase “whole world” in the times when the authors of
the Bible lived meant either the Roman Empire or the equivalent in
regional civilized society of the time reachable by maritime or land travel.
When we consider that God has a personal concern for each of us and
our generation and that the themes of the Bible repeat we are forced to
allow that the prophecies were templates meant to apply to many regions
and times so as to help the people of those times live through oppressive,
even horrible, persecution and despotic ungodly regimes.
Although there may be a globe-spanning Antichrist at the very end, it
is also true to say that Antiochus IV Epiphanes was Antichrist from the
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point of view of those he afflicted. The same holds for Nero, Diocletian,
Caligula, Hitler, Stalin, and so on. For the people living in those eras it is
true to say that the despotic leaders they suffered and died under
obviously manifested antichrist more than a tyrant with a large geographic
span of control who may come long after they have departed this life.
In Jacob, therefore, I try to allow for this larger perspective by
invoking the whole-scripture sense of Antichrist and allowing for multiple
instances of the fulfillment of a given prophecy. Each of the four senses of
scripture given in the Patristic Method of Bible interpretation can apply to
a given prophecy, and multiple historical events can fulfil each of those
senses within a given culture.
Each new generation within the world’s various cultures can, in turn,
have their own series of events that qualify as legitimate manifestations of
the biblical prophecies. There can be globe-spanning events that also
qualify, and Revelation does seem to specify a round of such events at the
very end, but the smaller manifestations of the same themes are valid
instances of the prophecies as well—and some of them are not small at
all. I also allow