Vatican Intervention by Andrew Lee Sullivan

Author:Andrew Lee Sullivan [Sullivan, Andrew Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Creativia
Published: 2016-05-06T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

The chapel door swung open. Everyone popped up as Father Duran and his priests and altar servers progressed into the chapel. I was one of those priests. The opening hymn burst forth. Trying to shake the memory from her head, Olha opened her eyes, found a songbook next to her, and rose at a snail's pace.

The Mass sped along without fuss, until the sermon. Oblivious to the real entrapment Olha experienced within her, Duran harangued about his latest crusade. Nothing energized him more than a good fight.

The L'osservatore Romano, the Vatican's illustrious newspaper had published an article referring to the Epiphany Feast as a 'little Christmas.' This had enraged Duran and set in motion a newly formed Miles Jesu committee to draft a detailed response to the editor. Although Jesus had spared me a place among the weary researchers and writers, it was impossible not to be a spectator of the fiasco. Duran spearheaded a veritable war to topple the 'thoughtless and ignorant journalist' from his throne.

Like a captain at the helm of an advancing warship, Duran stood defiantly at the chapel podium, demanding to know the status of the ever expanding letter. A lone sailor read the damn thing. Public corrections and additions followed. Everyone sat there in silence nodding in agreement, guarding their true feelings. The entire affair felt exaggerated and tiresome.

The ostentatious spread of Christmas decorations, broad brush strokes of red and gold tinsel flowing everywhere, the baby Jesus on angel hair in the middle of the room on the last day of January suggested an out of touch backdrop. Outside, Christmas had come and gone more than a month ago. Despising cultural expediencies, numb to the inner world of distraught members, Duran thrived in his own universe.

A spirited defense of the Epiphany marched unchecked like a thousand troops heading into battle. Citing festive traditions and quoting ancient big shots, elegant words of defiance hung in the air. Duran's face glowed with approval. If Duran had his way the journalist would have been fired.

I raised my head and looked past the altar to the other side of the chapel, twenty-five feet away. My wondering eyes discovered Olha looking back at me. We caught each other looking. When a vital conclusion echoed in the room, I tilted my head and raised my eyebrows in phony surprise. Duran didn't notice. Olha welcomed my playfulness and giggled.

For an instant, our souls communicated. We experienced a passing solidarity of some sort. We recognized our survival together in the same plummeting boat. A spark of mutual attraction ignited.

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