The Second Messiah

“My brothers, you may doubt my sanity even more when I tell you that the second coming we must prepare for is our own. I believe that all of us who take up the torch to carry light into the dark corners of the human heart are Christ returned, His second coming. For in truth, I believe this is the complete fulfilment of the meaning of Christ’s presence on earth. He planted the seeds and it is up to us to cultivate and gather the harvest, or else it will wither.

“So from this day, we must decide not only our fate but our faith. Do we wish to be bureaucrats and remain behind these walls? To sit here and debate the finer points of theology while the sick are untended, the hungry go unfed, or children are left unloved? Or do we go out as priests to the people, just as Jesus and His disciples went out two thousand years ago, with nothing to call their own, nothing but honest belief in His words?

“From this day, I want us to divest ourselves of all our wealth and worldly goods. To divest ourselves of every stone and brick. I want us to use that wealth to alleviate the wrongs we witness, the poverty and injustices all around us.

“I want us to go forth in peace, to pronounce the brotherhood of all men, without exception of country, creed, or race, and in the belief in one God. And to those who will criticize us, we will answer them with the same answers Jesus answered with, and if need be, we will suffer the same wounds.

“My brothers, my authority as Supreme Pontiff is absolute. No matter how many arguments are railed against me, my word is law. But I will give you each a choice. To remain behind, or to walk with me as true disciples and step out from behind these walls to fulfill Christ’s promise.”

Becket stared out at them all and said, “So now I must ask you, Mos vos insisto mihi? Will you follow me?”

John Becket stood waiting and looked around the chapel. For a moment there was a silence so intense that it almost felt like a crushing weight. No one spoke. Some of the cardinals looked at one another awkwardly, as if uncertain what to do. Becket knew instinctively that he could not count on these men, that they would waver.

But one by one, a number of red-robed cardinals rose, some of them moved to tears, others fearful. Some were empowered by his words, others aware of their own weaknesses in the face of such an enormous challenge. Yet it was one elderly cardinal who raised his frail voice above the uncertain crowd and spoke first. “Yes, I will follow you!”

Another man next to him repeated the cry.

And another. A chorus of voices rose to give their answer, and then one by one, in a single procession, they came to kneel before John Becket and kiss his ring in a token of commitment.

It was very still in the Sistine. In a single procession the cardinals had left, until finally John Becket was alone.

He was aware of two things: the terrible weight upon his shoulders, as heavy as a cross, and that the most difficult journey of his life was about to begin.

He was conscious also that many of his cardinals had been carried away by his noble words and by the consensus of the crowd. That in the days ahead some of those men would change their minds. Some would consider the task too challenging. Reflecting on their decision, others would choose not to join him.

But many would, he was convinced of that. The ones who mattered, the ones who shared his honest intent.

Was it too difficult a path that lay ahead?

Was it too ambitious a plan?

Would it succeed, or would the process destroy the church?

But with his candid questioning came a deep sense of purpose. Becket knew at that moment he was intensely alone, except for the presence before him now, within the golden tabernacle.

That presence would be all he would ever have to guide him in the days and years ahead, yet he knew that it would be enough.

He dropped to his knees in front on the altar. He felt something brush against his cassock. He reached into his pocket and drew out the worn newspaper photograph of Robert and Margaret Cane. In the coming days he would publicly reveal his part in their tragic deaths and the theft of the scroll, and he would face those consequences. But for now, racked by guilt, he held the photograph in his palm, touched the image of their faces. As it always did, his memory flooded with pain for all the hurts and wrongs that had been done in the name of God. As always, he would pray for forgiveness and the redemption of that pain.

As was his habit in these personal moments, Becket laid himself prostrate in front of the altar, his pained and wounded body outstretched, and the words that spilled from his lips were spoken with deep and honest conviction. “Our Father, who art in heaven. . . I beseech you to bring peace to Jack Cane’s soul. That you quench his pain. That you allow him to glimpse the eternity of your love, your reason for our being. . .”

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