Jackass for the Hour: Chapter 21 – They burned them in a raging fire

Jackass for the Hour: Chapter 21 – They burned them in a raging fire

Although Father Lia-Fáil had received the fax from père Jacques and had alerted the Holy Father about the contents of the web-site, he hadn’t heard from anyone else, including Father Alexámenos. Pope Tsur-Ēzer had don Hash and padre Emet summoned.

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As the plane kept its course to Rome far off the coast of New York City, many in the plane were glued to the windows on the port side of the plane, leaning over the passengers in those rows of seats, who were themselves trying to get a glimpse of the Tribute in Light, two beams of light piercing high into the night skies from where the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center had once stood, now One World Trade Center. The Port Authority finally understood that a memorial was not meant to facilitate one to look merely ‘at’ something, but to gaze ‘toward’ Someone. Every year on September 11 the memorial was lit up, and was being tested with some new technology on this evening. The plane’s distance from the Big Apple, more than three hundred kilometres, made the effect of the light piercing many kilometres into the heavens all the more dramatic. They were high enough in the plane so that the beams of light were able to be seen over the curvature of the earth.

Thousands simultaneously ‘burned at the stake’ by Islamic fundamentalists raised strong emotions in the viewers, regardless of their nationality or religion, especially since they were flying. The cabin crew knew that they had to delay the main meal until New York was behind them. Father Alexámenos was impressed that the years had not meant the usual out of sight, out of mind.

A Rabbi in his seventies had been sitting a few rows in front of Father Alexámenos. He was returning to Italy after visiting Bard College in New York – where he debated the interpretation of the Talmud – and then The Shoah Memorial in Miami Beach, where living anguish reached up to Heaven. After he caught a glimpse of the beams of light, he saw that Father Alexámenos, obviously a Catholic priest, was still asleep next to the window and had no one sitting next to him. He had also noticed that the gentleman seated immediately in front of Father Alexámenos had not bothered himself about the Tribute in Light, and still looked upset that everyone had made such a fuss. He was wearing a taqiyah and Thawb, traditional clothing for a Muslim. The Rabbi chuckled with such an opportunity for entertainment and, perhaps, according to the will of the Most High, an advance in what was otherwise the murderous intrigue of merely interreligious politics. The Rabbi took the seat next to the aisle leaving the middle seat of row between himself and Father Alexámenos empty.

Father Alexámenos was soon awakened by the question of the stewardess: “Chicken or Fish, Sir?”

“Fish, thanks,” said Father Alexámenos, rubbing his eyes, careful not to displace the bandages below each eye, though the wounds were now scabbed over. He put his seat ‘table’ down with one hand as he took the meal tray with the other. He quietly said a meal blessing and made the Sign of the Cross over himself and then over the food.

The Rabbi was impressed that the priest didn’t go out of his way to hide his religion, thinking that too many of his fellow Jews and so many of his Catholic friends were apologetic about religion. “Congratulations. That’s what I like to see,” he said to Father Alexámenos.

Before Father Alexámenos could respond, the stewardess said to the Rabbi, “And here’s your meal, Sir.” She hadn’t asked him any preference. It was a pre-ordered kosher meal. That the Rabbi had changed his seat didn’t make it hard to guess who he was. He was wearing a Kippah.

“Shalom!” said Father Alexámenos. “I’m pleased to meet you. I am Father Alexámenos.” He thought he had seen the Rabbi elsewhere, but could not place him. He did not expect to be sitting next to this particular Rabbi, whom everyone knew as the Rabbi who had greeted Pope Tsur-Ēzer immediately after his election on the Loggia of Saint Peter’s Basilica. Though the scene had been played endlessly on the television, Father Alexámenos did not watch television. He had been thrilled to see the meeting between the Rabbi and the new Pontiff in person, for he was among the crowd in Piazza San Pietro. He had been standing in the middle of the Piazza, close to the steps of the Basilica, and could not see the closeup images of the Rabbi and the Pontiff put up on the large screens just below the statues of Saints Peter and Paul and at the beginning of the colonnades.

“I am Rabbi Shelomoh. I am likewise pleased to meet you. I wasn’t sure if I would; it looked as if you were dead to the world, especially with those wounds on your face.”

“When living for the Lord, it is a blessing to be dead to the world,” said Father Alexámenos.

“It is the Lord of History, the Most High, who knows the hour of death, when we will be blessed to come closer to Him,” replied the Rabbi. He was pleased that the young priest did not recognise him. They could have a more candid conversation if he did not. He had already had his fill of politically correct comments made to him by so many of the Cardinals present for the election of the new Bishop of Rome.

As they took the plastic wrap off their meals, the Rabbi said, “You must have been dreaming.”

“I hope I was not talking in my sleep,” said Father Alexámenos.

“Lo,” said the Rabbi in Hebrew, indicating that he had not.

“It wasn’t like any dream I have had before,” responded Father Alexámenos in modern Hebrew, following the Rabbi’s example. “It was so vivid. I could feel the hot breeze. The sun was beating down in mid-afternoon. I was standing in front of an enormous Rock. I realised that… Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be boring you with my dreams!”

“No, please, go on,” said the Rabbi. “Where did you learn modern Hebrew?”

“I took a semester off from studies in Rome to go to Hebrew University on Mount Scopus. I also took some special classes at Hebrew Union College,” said Father Alexámenos. “I’m studying the Liturgy. I couldn’t imagine continuing without knowing the Jewish Liturgy better. The Roman Canon of the Mass is filled to overflowing with references to the Hebrew Scriptures.”

“What was this rock in your dream?” asked the Rabbi, well aware of the Catholic Mass and wondering what to think of this priest.

“It was on the summit of Mount Moriah,” said Father Alexámenos. There was no Temple, only the Rock of Sacrifice.”

“Go on,” said the Rabbi, becoming interested in the dream itself.

“I saw a very old man and a young boy. The old man had a machete in his right hand. The boy was acting like a donkey, burdened with a large bundle of wood on his back. The boy asked, ‘Where is the lamb for the holocaust?’ And then the old man replied…” But then both Rabbi and priest continued together: “God will provide for Himself a lamb for the holocaust, my son.”

“I know the story,” said the Rabbi, chuckling.

“But not my dream,” insisted Father Alexámenos, “which has a slightly different ending.”

“Go on,” said the Rabbi, beginning to eat his meal, and bidding his companion to do the same. The Rabbi had noticed that the Muhammedan, having heard that the conversation was in Hebrew, had begun to listen to them intently. The biblical account was also mentioned in the Qur’an, though with an entirely contradictory meaning.

“The ambiguous reply of Abraham, the old man, left the boy, Isaac, devastated,” continued Father Alexámenos. Abraham then laid the boy on the wood he had arranged on top of the Rock. Just as he raised the machete in his hand to slash the boys neck and plunge it into his heart in order to drain the sacrifice of the last drops of its blood…”

“…an angel stopped him and showed him a lamb caught in a thicket by its horns, which he was to sacrifice instead. I know,” said the Rabbi, “but how is that so different from Genesis?”

“What happened next,” said Father Alexámenos, “is that as Abraham names the mountain…”

“…The Lord will Provide,” interjected the Rabbi.

“It is then,” continued Father Alexámenos, “that Abraham kneels and says, ‘I praise you God, Lord of heaven and earth, for instructing us, your children, that no son of Adam is worthy to be sacrificed, marked as he is with Adam’s sin. I was ready to obey, knowing you would raise Isaac from the dead immediately, for there would be no other way to raise a progeny from him as you promised. Thank you for teaching us that you will provide Someone who will be a Lamb without blemish, someone innocent, who will take on the sins of all, taking on the death we deserve for our sins, and so fulfilling justice while having mercy on us, someone who will then rise from the dead, conquering death, bringing us to life. Thank you for promising us the Woman’s Seed.”

The Rabbi was busy eating his meal, but put his utensils down and said, “That ‘Seed’ must be divine in order to avoid being corrupted by Adam’s sin. Is that what you are telling me?”

“Genesis 3:15,” said Father Alexámenos.

“I see,” said the Rabbi. “You say that there is only one Revelation, that the Messiah is Jesus, the Lamb of God, who takes away our sins. He is the ‘Seed’ born of the Virgin, Miryam.”

“That is what I believe,” said Father Alexámenos.

“And you don’t think that this is insulting to me?” asked the Rabbi.

“Rabbi, I would insult you if I were not to tell you of my love for the Messiah.”

“So, you think that Catholics are Jews, who have accepted the Messiah?” asked the Rabbi.

“Of course, just because someone calls himself a Catholic and publically professes the Faith does not mean that he has truly given assent to Christ in Living Faith,” said Father Alexámenos. “But, yes,” continued Father Alexámenos, “even gentiles of any background, if they believe in Jesus, also believe in the Revelation first received by the Chosen People, for all of Revelation must necessarily point to the Messiah.”

“So, you would effectively exclude modern day Jews from salvation. You would exclude me,” said the Rabbi, pretending to be offended, fully expecting a decent answer from him. However, just to put more pressure on, he added, “The non-acceptance of Jesus as the Messiah to this day makes us look like we want to be guilty of His crucifixion, does it not?”

“Instead, it is because you are the children of the promise that I must speak of the fulfilment of the Promise to you,” replied Father Alexámenos, not undercutting any missionary impetus, “but when I speak, it is not because I have anything to offer you myself. How can a student teach his master, or a younger brother his elder? My having anything of the truth has nothing to do with me. It is all according to the providence of the Most High,” he said, repeating the words of the Rabbi. “The Romans put Christ to death, but original and personal sin of all Jews and Gentiles of all times was the real occasion of His death. It would not matter when or where Christ walked upon the earth. His goodness as the Messiah would be too incriminating for those who did not want to change their ways. He would be put to death in any culture, among any people. We are all guilty of His blood. Rabbi, if I say that you – indeed, all Jews – are guilty of the crucifixion of Jesus, it is not simply so as to accuse you. It is because I am thanking the Lord for His mercy and goodness in wanting to bring you to Himself, laying down His life in front of you. He has done the same for me. I slew Him with my sins. It is because I am the greatest sinner, the greatest enemy of Christ inasmuch as He loves me as an individual – and yet I have sinned – that I feel unworthy to proclaim His mercy to you. Yet, I rejoice, as this is the Lord’s good humour!”

“So, you accuse the Jews of killing Jesus, bringing us to Auschwitz,” concluded the Rabbi.

Looking intently into the Rabbi’s eyes, Father Alexámenos said, “If the Lord excluded the sinful Jews among all of the sinful peoples of the world in reckoning who was guilty of His blood, only the Jews would be excluded from the merciful Redemption He wrought for us all. So, Yes! Praise the Lord! I am accusing the High Priests… and the Rulers… and the people… indeed, you and all the Jews along with the rest of us, not to bring anyone to Auschwitz, but because His mercy endures forever. The one who translated Luke 23,13 as “chief priests, leaders of the people” should be burned at the stake for making just one category of people when there were really three. As far as the Shoah goes, the Fiddler on the Roof is wrong; people can be pushed by those who are evil to show their goodness, the very Faith given by the Most High… may His Name be blessed.”

“Blessed be the Name, indeed! You are amazing… for a Catholic priest,” said the Rabbi, now laughing heartily and going back to his meal. “You’ve seen right through me, through us. We’ve been condemning Catholics right along for the vapid statements of a few individuals through the ages, who have accused us of killing Christ as if no one else, including themselves, needed salvation, as if no one needed mercy, as if no one needed to have the Messiah, the Suffering Servant, die and rise for them. These few, arrogant accusers were simply individuals who were hurtful to others, including themselves. We know that. But we wanted to shove such words in the face of the Church to see if the Church was anti-Semitic. But many in the Church have retreated, becoming afraid to say that anyone sinned, that anyone was in need of Redemption. ‘Everyone is always nice.’ That rubbish is all I hear. You’ve given me some hope. But aren’t you rejecting that mankind is getting better, evolving toward a cosmic omega point of niceness?” he asked, again taking the role of the devil’s advocate. “Aren’t you undercutting hope for mankind’s progress?”

“Anyone who speaks of an evolution of ‘niceness’ – as does each Marxist Kibbutz – speaks for Satan,” replied Father Alexámenos, “especially after the human sacrifice in the Shoah, the violence of the twentieth century, and now, well into the twenty first century, with world-wide cultures of death. They say the resurrection is an ever-dying humanity moving through time.”

“But what about the loss of identity being encouraged by the impersonal, evolving, cosmic nirvana presented by modern Catholic theological psychobabble?” asked the Rabbi.

Father Alexámenos responded to the sarcasm with academic precision, knowing the Rabbi was aware that some Jewish authors were not so different from the Catholics whom the Rabbi was condemning. He said, “In reducing everything to an epistemology of phenomenological relativism, they set up a violent dialectic by which they pretend everything progresses toward a wholeness of utopia, which they do not even want to see arrive. They miss out on the fact that wholeness and integrity finds immediate fulfilment with graced obedience to God in Faith, whose sanctifying grace does not flatten one’s present, personal worth – as does dialectical materialism – but transforms the person now into the one whom he is called to be by this grace. But if mankind is not getting any better – as is obviated by people going into denial about violence – this fact does not take away our hope. It gives us an impetus to look all the more to the Messiah, our only hope. Rabbi, people talk about ‘springtime’, but it is winter. Mankind is worse, not better. Jesus asked, ‘If they do this while the wood is green, what will happen when it is dry?’”

“That is my fear,” said the Rabbi. “There are more Judas priests now than ever. The Church has well over a billion members. Jews are in danger if there are no Catholics who are willing to speak as you do. You hold out the mercy of God to us just as you recognise that He has held out mercy to you. The Church does not deny sin, but, practically, how many go to Confession? How many priests or bishops offer this mercy? Inasmuch as you all think of yourselves as having developed into niceness without God, that you are doing well enough without His mercy and goodness, what is, then, to become of us Jews? If there is no sin, you can lead us straight to Auschwitz and congratulate yourselves as to how nice you are, murdering Jesus’ own family.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Rabbi. Thank you.”

“But tell me this,” said the Rabbi, “John the Evangelist called Jews ‘Jews’ in a derogatory way as the Italians do today, but Jesus’ tribe of Judah is the most blessed. Why did John do that?”

“He was simply contrasting the universal nature of God’s call emphasised by the death and resurrection of the Messiah, with the way that the Tribe of Judah, at that time, was collapsing in on itself inasmuch as it was not opening it arms to the whole world as did Jesus, the Lion of the Tribe of Judah, on the Cross. Calling Jews ‘Jews’ was an invitation to them be the Light to the Nations. John the Evangelist was not claiming to be better than his own fellow Jews. He knew of the goodness of God’s mercy for all. He even cited the Hebrew Scriptures, not the Septuagint.

“You are a Master Dreamer,” said the Rabbi, cleverly quoting the ‘Joseph story’ of Genesis.

“My dream, in fact, continues,” said Father Alexámenos.

“Go on, please,” said the Rabbi, not having enjoyed a conversation so much for a long time.

“At first, I didn’t see the face of the boy. It had been covered by the wood he was carrying and then by the hand of the old man when the boy’s throat was about to be slit. When the lamb of sacrifice was burning, when the flames where filling the skies and reaching to the heavens, I saw the face of the lamb. It was that of Jesus on the Cross, His face suffering, beaten, disfigured, tortured. As I watched, the heavens opened and the weight of the glory of the Lord was upon us. I was kneeling beside Abraham and Isaac in the presence of the Most High. The smoke of the offering arose into the heavens like incense. When the heavens closed and we stood to our feet, they turned to me and clasped my hands in friendship. It is then that I saw the face of the boy.”

“And…” said the Rabbi.

“Rabbi, it was again the face of Jesus.”

“Of course it was the face of Jesus. Isaac is the ancestor of Jesus. It could not be any other way,” asserted Rabbi Shelomoh. “That means nothing, unless you understand the suffering face of Jesus replacing both that of the lamb of sacrifice and Isaac to mean that Jesus was set to suffer in the place of those who were to be redeemed. He would have to be put to death for their sakes to fulfill justice while having mercy on us. Is that right?”

“That is what I believe, Rabbi.”

“But Father Alexámenos,” said Rabbi Shelomoh, “is what you say about the would-be child-sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham what Islam also believes?”

“Rabbi?”

“You, a Catholic, are brave enough to tell me, a Jew, about what you believe you think both of us should believe. But I want to know what you think about what the Qur’an has to say about child-sacrifice… and be concise, please. I’m getting tired.” The Muhammedan seated in front of them looked to be a native of the west coast of the Arabian peninsula. Father Alexámenos did not know he was there since he had gone to sleep before the Muhammadan had boarded. The Rabbi could guess what the answer of Father Alexámenos would be, but wanted to broaden the conversation to include the Muhammadan by way of reaction to a Catholic’s understanding of the Qur’an.

Father Alexámenos said: “Abraham’s would-be sacrifice of his son as imagined in the Qur’an has nothing to do with an immediate resurrection, which only comes at the final judgment. Besides this, there is no stricture in the Qur’an that a progeny would necessarily come through either Isaac or Ishmael or both. In Genesis, it must be from Isaac that the promised progeny comes, excluding Ishamel, necessitating the instantaneous resurrection of Isaac. Instead, the Qur’an imagines Allah as being a blood-thirsty god, who is pleased with child-sacrifice as the best method of bribing one’s way into his favour. It is the essential text used to encourage child-sacrifice terrorist bombings. It is the central text of Islam. The Qur’anic version of Abraham’s would-be sacrifice of his son has nothing to do with the account in Genesis. The true Abraham is not the father in faith of Islam. Promoting Qur’anic style child-sacrifice is not true religion.”

“I’m sure Brussels will have something to say about such a diatri…” began the Rabbi.

But Father Alexámenos interrupted him: “If this critique is offensive to the non-emotive-language police in Brussels, it is not because they are ignorant, but because they know the truth is being told, a truth they want to hide as they encourage the islamicisation of Europe, Africa, Asia, the world. They complain that academic critiques like this risk the radicalisation of Muslims, cynically aware that it is they who are saying that the roots of Islam are terroristic, for this is what the word radical means. It is those who forbid the truth to be told who are true terrorists. They create the conditions in which terrorist bombings will continue. They are afraid to permit a reasoned critique of Islam, a fear which bodes the end of society as we know it.”

The Rabbi could see that the Muhammadan just ahead of them was now predictably agitated, extremely so. Father Alexámenos could see only the movement of the back of the seat, but did not know that the man was a Muslim, and did not know he was upset because of what he had just said. Since the conversation was in Hebrew, the Rabbi knew that the Muhammadan was fluent in the language. This told him much about him.

After some seconds, Father Alexámenos added, “Of course, almost no Muslims have any idea about the significance of the story as recounted in the Qur’an. They think it simply means that they are to submit to Allah no matter what, not realizing that there is a difference between doing something against reason, which would be the Qur’an’s account of Abraham’s sacrifice on the one hand, and, on the other hand, doing something which is not unreasonable, such as Abraham’s sacrifice recounted in Genesis. Muslims are simply victims of Muhammad, a Judaeo-Catholic heretic, who advanced his own brand of Pelagianism, of working his own way to heaven, which always involves bribery and violence. We must be thankful that Muslims have not been deeply infected with Muhammad’s thought. Most just go through the motions, trying to be religious despite the perversion of true religion that Muhammad shoved down their throats.”

The Rabbi was pleased with Father Alexámenos’ answer, but thought he would push further, asking, “So, you’re saying that it is not our generosity which gains acceptance by God, but our Faith, which is not so much ours, but is God’s gift to us…”

“That was part of my dream too, Rabbi.”

“Do, go on,” said the Rabbi, content with the progress that he thought was being made with the Muhammedan.

“I was near the same Rock of Sacrifice, but with different mountains in the background. The Rock was now on Mount Sinai. I watched as the people swore to obey the Law of the Lord…”

“I know!” said Rabbi Shelomoh, impatiently. “They were sure that they could keep the Law of the Lord under their own power. They ignored the symbolism of the blood of the Sacrifice being thrown on the altar and then upon themselves. They loudly proclaimed they could, should and surely would do and obey all that the Lord had spoken. They refused to be reminded by that blood that they themselves should have been put to death for their sin and that they should, by grace, come before the Lord with the humble and contrite heart that He was providing for them. They did not look forward, on account of that animal blood, to the Messiah, their suffering servant, to the Redeemer’s blood, which would be thrown on them and on their children. They suppressed the truth that He alone could fulfill the justice needed for this ever present mercy, the mercy of Himself being sacrificed for us!” Having said that, the Rabbi concluded: “They should have known that they could not keep the Law of the Lord without His grace. They ought to have said, ‘By the grace of God, all that the Lord has spoken we will do and obey.’ I know all that better than you. But many take the cry, ‘His blood be upon us and upon our children’ – which we Jews screamed during Pontius Pilot’s condemnation of Jesus – and hold it against us.”

“Rabbi,” said Father Alexámenos, distressed at the horror of the Shoah he heard in his voice, “in my dream, all the people had the same face as I watched the blood being thrown upon them, the face of the Suffering Servant, who hates the sinner and his sin, so that, with their repentance, He will take them to Himself on eagle wings, forgiving them. He loved them so much as to die for them while they were yet sinners. He took upon Himself Adam’s sin and their personal sin…”

“Anything to drink?” interrupted the stewardess.

“Orange Juice, please,” said Father Alexámenos.

“The same,” said the Rabbi. “Thank you.”

“Next, in my dream, I saw Moses raising the Tablets of the Law above his head, looking down in disgust at the people,” continued Father Alexámenos. “They were worshipping a golden bull. In my dream, Moses threw down the Tablets of the Law, shattering them on the precipice upon which he stood. The pieces scattered and broke into ever smaller pieces as they tumbled down the mountain. These stones violently slammed into each person there, from the youngest to the oldest. To my horror, they did not even notice. They had hearts of stone. But then they looked up at Moses. I froze when I saw their eyes. It looked like they had no conscience.”

“And, of course,” asserted the Rabbi. “the only thing that can be done for someone without a conscience is to shove their faces in their sin, even while and because of holding out forgiveness to them… and goodness and kindness. It is most merciful. The Lord made them sacrifice the very animals they were worshiping. Incorrect following of the rubrics could mean the death penalty. But, as all the prophets have noted, they were still not getting the right idea, which would have been to look forward to a redeeming Messiah with a humble and contrite heart. They immediately became proud of their sacrifices, as if the very action of the sacrifice would make them worthy to be in God’s presence, as if they were bribing God by way of their ‘goodness’ and ‘generosity’. Now, I hope your dream is going somewhere.”

“The Rock of Sacrifice then accompanied the Chosen People to the promised land,” said Father Alexámenos. When they took Jericho, they killed all of the men and women, the young and the old, even the smallest of babies. They burned them in a raging fire. I saw their faces.”

“Jesus’ face again?” asked the Rabbi with a sceptical voice.

“Yes,” replied Father Alexámenos.

“And the faces of the Chosen People?” asked the Rabbi.

“The same,” said Father Alexámenos.

“I see,” said the Rabbi with feigned sarcasm. “How is that?”

“God was teaching us all about the serious nature of sin,” said Father Alexámenos, “and that Redemption was necessary. This was a pedagogical action both for the Chosen People and for all nations on earth. The Chosen People carried the Revelation of the Most High. No one should have had the audacity to be their enemies. Anyone who did so deserved death.”

“But what of the little ones, the babies… surely they were not our enemies. How could we slaughter them? And why not just go around Jericho, ignoring it?” asked the Rabbi, marvelling that a non-Jew, and a Catholic priest at that, would take the Jewish Scriptures seriously. The Rabbi was not asking him questions to find out something. He knew the answers. He simply wanted to confirm Father Alexámenos in his understanding.

“The little ones are as much a part of fallen mankind as you or I, Rabbi, and are not exempt from God’s justice. It was just a matter of sooner than later that they died of the just effects of Adam’s sin, which corrupted us, Adam’s children. But the Lord provides or permits what it takes to get the knowledge across to us that we belong to Him, including sickness, violence or old age. In Jericho, the violence prepared both Jew and Gentile for the coming of the Suffering Servant, teaching all involved, including us, how serious is the justice that makes God’s grant of mercy the fulfilment of righteousness. We know little of what it means that Jesus, God, died and rose for us. This truth is too crushing for us. The way Jericho suffered is nothing compared to what we need to learn about the overwhelming weight of the Jewish Messiah’s Sacrifice.”

“Hold on right there,” said the Rabbi, guiding the conversation for the sake of the Muhammedan sitting in front of them. The Rabbi was expert in his situational awareness of the murderous intrigue of interreligious politics. “If the sacrifice of human beings at Jericho has pedagogical force, helping us to keep the full weight of the meaning of the other sacrifices before us, is it not true that Jews who do not accept that the Messiah has come have the right, in their own minds, to continue this divine pedagogy by slaughtering all of the Palestinians as if they were all from Jericho… a kind of divine mandate, shall we say, to prepare for the Messiah, a kind of lesson about God’s justice? I mean, really, isn’t the continuing ethnic cleansing wrought against non-Jews in the Promised Land exactly what your Cardinal Froben keeps saying should happen when he repeats ad nauseam that the Covenant which the Jews had before Christ came is valid and salvific today even after Jesus has come with the New Covenant that was prophesied by the prophet Jeremiah? One would have to think that the Vatican wants all the Palestinians dead…”

Predictably, the Muhammadan was beside himself. He was repeatedly calling the stewardess with the button on the arm of his airline seat. When she came, he asked how he could get online so as to send an email. She explained that there were easy to follow directions in the folder in the seat pocket in front of him. The Muhammadan was making such a commotion that Father Alexámenos had to wait a moment to provide an answer to the Rabbi.

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Up next: Chapter 22 – Sag niemals nie! Never say never!

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© International 2005-2018 – George David Byers