The Beginning of the End
Benedict sat alone in the dark staring out of his office window overlooking the eternal city. The rising moon highlighted the dome of St. Peter’s. The last of his many trusted advisors, Msgr. Sciculuna, the Minister of Justice had just left with the latest news. The sexual abuse scandal had spread to his own country, to his own diocese where he had served as bishop. This news on top of the news from Brazil, Brazil mind you! This was not supposed to happen in Catholic Brazil! Americans are oversexed whiny babies who just like to show off and draw attention to themselves like their movie stars. The Irish and the Australians, their relatives, are not much better. This is simply too much to bear! All these people want to do was smear the church and discredit him. No good could come out of this.
Then the Irish had the nerve to criticize his letter! He had spent hours crafting a reply that outlined the church’s position. The church as the spotless bride of Christ and the pope as the vicar of St. Peter simply cannot make mistakes. Whatever happened, happened, but they were not really not the same kind of mistakes that the laity make. Clerical mistakes have a sort of eminence of degree about them that make them seem less grievous. He was doing his best within the spotless bride construct. He, Benedict, was the successor to St. Peter himself for God’s sake! Did the media that dog his every step and question his every pronouncement really think that the pope could ever say he’s sorry? It would be like God saying he’s sorry.
Benedict was an old man and he was tired. On this fine spring night as the stars twinkled in the deepening blue sky, he had no idea that when the sun rose the next day, he would be a different man with a different agenda. His head drooped and he began to doze. Rome was just getting started on its daily round of evening revelry. It would be the last nap Benedict would have for a very long time.
A tall young woman with curly black hair and bright green eyes strolled through the Roman streets, her jacket flung over her broad right shoulder. Even jaded Romans used to sizing up beautiful young women looked up from their pasta to notice her shiny green tank top. Several men followed her, trying to engage her in conversation. Something in her eyes stopped them from pursuing anything more than an admiring glance. “Quanta si bella!” The woman only smiled.
She approached St. Peter’s and walked up to the pope’s palace, opened the door and entered, unchallenged by the Swiss guards. She wandered up and down and along hallways lined with oriental rugs and ancient tapestries. As she neared the papal apartment, She almost bumped into Cardinal Levada who was running towards the pope’s apartment, paper in hand. When Levada saw the woman, one of the cardinal’s hands went to his mouth, the other to his cell phone to call the guards.
“Don’t even try,” God said evenly. “Besides, it won’t work. It’s dead.”
“Who are you? How did you get in here again?” The cardinal was ashen and his heart pounded. His right hand moved from his pocket to his chest. “Don’t worry, William, you’re not going to have a heart attack. I need you to do My work.”
“But who are you?” he asked again, inching backward down the hall towards the panic buzzer. God looked at him calmly and put Her hand on his shoulder, pressing him up against a tapestry. William’s shoulder felt warm where the woman touched him.
“Do not fear, William,” God replied calmly. “I shall be who I shall be.” William’s eyes registered Her reply. “What they told you in seminary is an incorrect translation. The Hebrew is quite clear. I am who I am, but more importantly, I shall be who I shall be. One can never pin God down in silly human words. I am here this way because I choose to be.
The hand changed to a gentle poke in the chest. “By the way, William, I don’t appreciate your white male representations of Me, printed or pictorial. It’s so boring. It’s all wrong, as you can see. Causes people to assume all sorts of silly things, like you look like Me.” God threw her head back and laughed, a huge belly laugh that William thought would send the Swiss guards running. ”Please change all of your prayers to include female language – immediately- tomorrow if possible In fact, you will make an announcement tomorrow, even if you need to stay up all night. Hmmm.” Her eyes sparkled as She continued to poke him. “William, I don’t think you’ll be sleeping much tonight anyway.”
William fainted dead away. He woke up to find himself in the pope’s apartment lying on the sofa. Benedict nodded towards God. “She carried you in. Like a baby.”
God spoke. “You know, I’m not all that into titles like you and your guys, but I’m not “she” like the cat’s mother. Just in case you stubbornly remain unclear, I am the Lord your God, Creator of heaven and earth. God stood up to her full height, considerable in the hallway, William thought, but unimaginable in the pope’s apartment. He thought he saw Her Head in the spring heavens crowned with stars and simultaneously but unbelievably, the world spinning at Her feet. She also appeared to be very pregnant.
But then, he had just awakened by a faint. There She was, in fact, adjusting the strap of her emerald tank top. She placed her jacket on the back of the pope’s armchair and sat down, then rearranged the chain around her neck. God raised Her eyes to meet Benedict’s. “No, I don’t wear a crucifix. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t believe in that kind of sacrifice. Then I would be a monster, not the Lord God almighty.”
“But there are, Joseph,” She continued, reaching for her green leather computer case, “Other sacrifices, like the one I made. Like the ones made in the pages of scripture or in the records of martyrs. Being a Christian means more than just admiring God and coming home to the fire in your hearth and a good bottle of red wine thinking how good it is that you and God are on the same page. It means speaking the truth like my son Oscar Romero, whose canonization you will announce tomorrow.” God said brightly. “I am just full of good ideas tonight.”
Benedict blinked. Looking at them expectantly, She said, “ If you think announcing the end of gender specific language and canonizing Oscar tomorrow will be difficult, there is more, my sons.” She ran Her fingers through her curly black hair and shrugged her shoulders. “I shall require much of the two of you, probably your lives, most definitely, your professional life. That’s what you signed up to do, in case you forgot. You agreed to do My will, whatever the cost.”
The two men sank lower and lower into the plush chairs. They never thought signing on meant stuff like this. No wife and no kids maybe but not a girl God. God’s tone had a sharp edge to it now. “I told you this Joseph last year. Honestly, I don’t know what you’ve been thinking and doing for 365 days. You have seen God and dismissed Her. You knew I would return. Don’t you pray fervently for My coming all the time? Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again. Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of the faithful and enkindle in them the fire of your love? Did you really mean it? Because I’m here!” She practically yelled. God’s eyes flashed. Joseph and William lowered their eyes. Their ears tingled.
God frowned. “I see. I know what you’re thinking. I had inspired My child Fyodor Dostoevsky to write “The Grand Inquisitor.” Obviously you did not read it or you ignored that message like you ignore Me, just like your predecessors. You know, good literature changes behavior more readily than anything coming from this godforsaken building.” God sniffed in disgust and took Her computer out of its carrying case. “You, like all the rest, would rather I just go away so you can do things your way. Usually when people get a visit from God, they at least try to do what She says. Mary did what she was told. Isn’t she your role model? I know you guys get off on that purity thing. But Mary risked her life for Me.”
Joseph and William hung their heads, not even bothering to exchange glances.
“So the question is, “ She said staring at them intently, “Are you ready to do My will?’ God sat back in Her chair, swinging Her crossed leg, waiting expectantly for their answers. “Please look at Me when I talk to you, my sons.”
The second William Levada, the head of the Confraternity of Christian Doctrine looked into God’s green eyes, the words to the announcement that he was supposed to make in the morning popped into his head. He began to laugh uncontrollably. “We have met the Lord and She is not one of us as we believed for so long.” He got down on his knees and bowed his head to the floor. “My Lord and my God, I will do what you want of me. Forgive me for I have grievously sinned. And I know what to say tomorrow at your behest.”
“That’s good, William. That’s one less issue we will be addressing tonight and I appreciate your vote of loyalty and the acknowledgement of My identity. God smiled for the very first time.”
She turned to Joseph. “ Now for the rest. I’m afraid, Joseph that I have very bad news for you. A story will run in the New York Times tomorrow morning. I’m afraid it’s very bad, Joseph, very bad. The absolute worst you can imagine. The article will prove to the multitudes that you have treated the wounds of my children carelessly. You failed to act when my innocent babies were being harmed.”
God began to sniff and large tears ran down her cheeks. She pulled out tissues from Her purse and dabbed at Her eyes. Leaning towards the pontiff She demanded rather harshly for God, “ What were you ever thinking?” Her voice was loud, so loud, in fact, that it seemed to echo off the dome of St. Peter’s.
“Joseph, you do not need to protect me, the Creator of heaven and earth. I am beyond the protection of any human being. But you needed to protect my little ones, my dear sweet ones who could not protect themselves. You have committed the greatest sin of all, the sin against the Holy Spirit and I’m afraid that I will need to have your job.”
Joseph’s jaw dropped. William began to cry. He had begun to believe that there might just be a little period of adjustment, a little surgery here and there, some snipping at the top that did not include him, but nothing substantial because surely God knew that they were all doing their jobs.
“I need your job as well, William, in spite of your acknowledgement of My divinity. You are safe here in Rome because your brother saved you from the law in California just as he saved Bernard Law in Boston. In fact,” She said leaning forward, “I will have the jobs of all of these bishops. You were to protect the most vulnerable, not grown men who know the difference between right and wrong.” God handed a long list of names to Joseph.
“But, my Lord,” Joseph responded after reading a very long list, “This is just about every single bishop in the world. This will be the end of the church.”
“If you all don’t resign, it is the end of the church. You have spent your time and your money protecting the wrong people.”
Joseph sighed and put his head in his hand.
“”If you think, Joseph,” God said gently, “Being one of a handful of popes to resign, try scourging, nakedness, and crucifixion.” God began to cry again, her shoulders shaking with great sobs. I don’t know what more I could have done to make you see that when you do these things to your sisters and brothers, you do them to Me. I am one with those who suffer. How could you have forgotten?”
A knock at the door interrupted God’s tears. “ Your Holiness, Your Holiness,” a voice called insistently. “I’m sorry for the late hour but I just learned some terrible news.” Benedict got up and walked towards the door. He could not longer bear to look into the eyes of God.
“Ah, you are awake, Your Holiness,” Tarcisio Bertone, the Secretary of State, fairly burst through the door.
“I’m not your holiness,” Joseph answered and gestured towards God. “God is.”
Tarcisio looked from William and back to Joseph and then bustled into the room, grabbed God’s coat from the back of God’s chair and attempted to shoo Her out of the room.
“This is unseemly, Your Holiness, unseemly, to have a half naked woman in your apartment. What will the Swiss guards say? What will people think? I have some disturbing news and you are sitting here with this, this this..” His mouth could not bear to say the word, “Woman.”
As Tarcisio grabbed God’s hand roughly, attempting to yank her out of her seat, he saw the deep wound in Her palm. “I’m so sorry,” he gasped, “Did I do that?”
“You all did,” She replied, gently extricating Her hand from his.
God began to type busily on Her computer as the bemused Tarsicio stood with his mouth open looking at God’s wounded hands fly across the keyboard. “Don’t be surprised by the technology,” She said. “All of this is real, not a vision and I don’t want you to awaken tomorrow and think I’m a dream you can ignore again. Sit down, my son.” She nodded to Tarcisio. “We have a lot of work to do.”
She looked at the three men. “This is the plan. We will begin the day with two announcements. The first is the fact that gender- neutral language in worship will begin tomorrow, on the Feast of the Annunciation. The second is the planned canonization of Oscar Romero on the Feast of Pentecost. That will set the stage for what will follow.”
“You, Joseph Ratzinger, aka Pope Benedict XIV, will announce your resignation tomorrow, effective on Pentecost. You will also announce the resignations of all the bishops whose names appear on that list. All of you are going to go to monasteries and spend the rest of your lives in prayer and repentance. You or one of the members of your cabinet can call them tonight. I am sure they won’t mind being awakened in the middle of the night to hear this news,” She added dryly.
God continued. “You will invite any member of the church who has been abused by a priest to St. Peter’s in Rome on Holy Thursday. You will invite the bishops whose names are on that list as well. Forget about the clergy in Rome. There will not be room for them. During the Mass of the Lord’s Supper, you will wash the feet of every single survivor who presents him or herself. You will kiss their feet and beg their forgiveness. You will beat your breast and say to them, “Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.” Your bishops will do the same. It is up to the survivors to absolve you of your sin.”
In the days between tomorrow and Pentecost, you will contact Professor Leonard Swidler in Philadelphia, a former buddy of yours, I think, to come to Rome to plan what will happen when the walls come tumbling down.
To be continued….
Eileen DiFranco
The Feast of the Annunciation, 2010
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