Archangel of Sedona (12 page)

“No. I was a business major at A&M.”

“You’re an Aggie?” Hansen asked.

“Gig ’em!” Gretchen responded, showing her right fist, thumb up.

“A big fan of Johnny Football?”

“Of course.”

“I went to Arizona for undergrad.” Hansen explained.

“Figures,” I said. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Tony went to ASU,” Gretchen said, smiling.

“Ah, Tempe Normal, the Farm. Tell me, Tony, have they managed to accredit any of the colleges at your alma mater yet?” Hansen asked.

If you think that there’s a more bitter rivalry among American universities than Arizona and Arizona State, you are out of your mind. It’s too complex to explain here, but I assure you that it’s true. It’s immature, embarrassing, and unnecessary, but those bastards from Arizona started it. Yes, I’m sure all colleges at ASU are accredited. Anyway, that’s what they claim when they ask for alumni donations.

“What he means, Gretch, is that since he matriculated at U of A, he’s intellectually superior to you,” I counseled my wife.

“No kidding? Are you an arrogant prick?” Gretchen asked Don, batting her eyes innocently.

“I told you he went to U of A, sweetie. So he must …” I began.

“Did she say that?” Father Pat interrupted, as he drained half his pint of Dead Guy. As a priest, his dinners and social outings with parishioners never included profanity. Then again, he never ministered in College Station.

“Padre, she’s an Aggie,” I said. Father nodded his head as if he understood.

“I’m not an arrogant prick, but I did study the Spanish conquest of the Americas,” Hansen responded. “A small number of men with a huge technological advantage conquered two very powerful empires with strong native forces that vastly outnumbered the conquerors. After the conquest, the unique aboriginal cultures with complex religious beliefs imploded.”

“You’re saying that could happen here if the inter-dimensional beings made themselves known,” Gretchen concluded.

“Yeah. That’s one issue. Another is that not all of these inter-dimensional beings are benign. Some are good, very good. Some are the worst you can imagine. Some want to help us. Some would harm us or exploit us, like the Spanish exploited the Native Americans.”

“You won’t tell us if you’ve seen these beings yourself. Will you tell us if you believe that they come to Earth through a portal here in Sedona?” I asked.

“Yes, I believe that they come here,” Hansen said.

“Why?” Father Pat asked.

“Why do they come here, or why do I believe that they do?” Hansen asked.

“Both.”

“I believe that they come here because I trust the people who claim to have seen them. I’ve seen evidence that they’ve been coming here for millennia.”

“What evidence is that?” I asked.

“Have you ever been to the Native American ruins at Schnebly Tank? There are petroglyphs that go back at least ten thousand years. Though rough, they depict deer, elk, bear, mastodons, big cats, ancient humans, and the like. Two prominent petroglyphs are the spitting images of the Christus,” Hansen explained.

“Don, assuming that inter-dimensional aliens visit Sedona, why? It can’t be to get one of your tantric massages,” Gretchen said.

“Don’t be so sure, I’m very skilled,” Hansen said, as he leered at my wife.

“I’ll bet you are,” my bride agreed, as she batted her eyes.

“These beings come here for the same reasons that we want to go to Mars. Some are benign. Some are dangerous and cruel,” Hansen said.

“Don, I’d like to see the petroglyphs,” I said.

“Happy to guide you there when I have a free day. It’s a hike. It’s a good twenty-five miles north, northeast of Palatki. From the trailhead, it takes at least five hours in and an equal time out. It’s moderate to difficult in spots, but you look like you could make it.”

“We can’t do that. We have one more day here. We’re driving up to Flagstaff tomorrow. Tony wants to show me the Sunset Crater,” Gretchen countered.

“What’s that?” Father Pat asked.

“The crater is the remnant of an ancient volcano north of Flagstaff,” Hansen said. “Erupted a thousand years ago. Tore up the real estate. From what we can tell, it devastated the tribes that lived north of the Mogollon Rim. The local tribe, what the archeologists have named the Sinagua—Spanish for without water—fared well enough to hang around for another three centuries. You’ll like the crater. It has awesome hiking trails around the base,” Hansen said.

“Do these inter-dimensional beings believe in God?” I asked Hansen, trying to get back to the alien issue and pin him down.

Once again, Hansen took his time, thinking through his answer.

Turning to me, he looked me in the eye and said, “The short answer is yes.”

“What’s the long answer?” I pressed.

“It’s too long for our little happy hour. Sorry folks, but I’m booked for Eight p.m. I need to go. A man has to eat.”

“Can you meet with us tomorrow?” I asked.

“No, sorry. I’m full up with tourists from Chile. I know that you’re leaving. I realize that you have a thousand questions.”

“How about one last question, Don?” I asked.

“Shoot,” Don said with a phony smile.

“Why did you leave the priesthood?”

“To answer that would take a couple of hours and several more doubles,” Hansen observed. “My religion is very tolerant. We accept lifestyle choices that you Catholics would view as aberrant. As I got more interested in New Age, Reiki, tantric massage, extra-terrestrials, and inter-dimensional contacts, I made no secret of my research. The hierarchy became uncomfortable with me. One bishop told me that he was afraid that my notoriety would put too much
alien
in Episcopalian.”

Gretchen and I laughed at the intended joke. Father Pat did not.

“I quarreled with the church leadership for about a year. Eventually, they agreed that I should pursue my personal journey outside of my vocation. They released me from my vows. Simple as that.”

“When is your next available date to talk?” I asked.

“Tony, here’s my e-mail address. When you get back to Tampa, contact me. I’ll try to help. Cheers!” Hansen said, as he finished his scotch and passed his card to me.

With his salute, Hansen grabbed his hat, slid out of the booth, waved, turned around, and strode out of the Cowboy Club.

“That was one very interesting man,” Gretchen said. “After that, I need another drink and good meal.”

“How about it, Father? Want to eat with a lapsed Catholic and his Aggie wife?”

“I need something to soak up the beer,” Father Pat responded. “Tony, you hedged quite a bit earlier. Let me ask you a different way. Do you think that there’s any truth to Mr. Hansen’s claim? If accurate, it would create some chaos in organized religion,” Father noted.

“I may be the worst Catholic since Judas, but I hope that I’m a spiritual man.”

“You are, honey,” Gretchen confirmed.

“Thanks, babe,” I said smiling at my wife. “Father, I understand the arguments that my atheist friends make about organized religion. Some of their thinking makes sense because our religion has taken arbitrary and indefensible positions on science for short-term political gains. Later the official views proved to be invalid. Yet, at the time, the hierarchy enforced its will with the full power of the Catholic bureaucracies.”

“Can you give me an example?” Father Pat asked.

“Sure, that’s easy. Galileo.”

“Why Galileo?” Gretchen asked.

“By the mid sixteen hundreds, Galileo was involved in science and religion. Due to his astronomical observations, and relying on the earlier work of Copernicus, he preached that the sun was the center of the solar system and the planets revolved around it.”

“Well, that’s how it works, right?” Gretchen said.

“Sure, today everyone knows the solar system is heliocentric. Back in the seventeenth century, the pope and his minions fought the Protestant Reformation. They had invested in the theory that the earth was the center of the universe and all the planets, sun, and stars revolved around us. They claimed that scripture supported their view. Since it’s Church doctrine that the Pope is infallible on issues of Faith, they could brook no scientific dispute or they’d risk losing more ground to the Protestants.”

“No shit?” Gretchen asked.

“Though he’s oversimplifying a complex issue, your husband is correct. Cardinal Bellarmine, a Jesuit, helped the Pope to silence Galileo.”

“How’d they do that?” Gretchen asked.

“Bellarmine convinced the Pope to try Galileo in an ecclesiastical court. The tribunal found that he was highly suspect of heresy. They could have tortured or killed him, but they commuted his sentence to house arrest for the balance of his life.”

“Tony, your precious Jesuits did that?” Gretchen asked.

“Yep, but the Order is very different four hundred years later,” I suggested.

“I’m confused.” Gretchen said. “What difference does it make to the issue of the existence of God, if the sun revolves around the earth or the earth revolves around the sun?”

“It doesn’t,” I said. “An omniscient Creator could organize this universe any way that pleases Him. He makes the rules. The scientists, who advocate the existence of multiverses, claim that some have different laws of physics. So, it’s not out of the question to have a universe structured in a way that’s very different from ours. An act of Creation that includes a universe that stretches from the Higgs Boson all the way out to thirteen billion light years—and may be one in a quadrillion multiverses occupying the same space and time—is a much grander Divine work, than if earth was the center of the only reality and a million stars revolved around it.”

“The Church punished Galileo because he advocated an idea, which could undermine the power that the Church exercised. The existence of inter-dimensional beings doesn’t call into question the existence of God. Such a phenomenon would make Creation all that more grand,” I pontificated. “The theory of evolution does not preclude the existence of a Divine Spark. The Big Bang and Fiat Lux are not mutually exclusive. In fact, they kind of sound similar, don’t they?”

“What does
Fiat Lux
mean?” Gretchen asked.

“Let there be light!” Father said.

“Oh, that comes from the Bible, right?” Gretchen asked.

“It comes from the Book of Genesis 1:3. And God said, let there be light! And there was light,” Father Pat said.

“Gretch, the Jesuits explained to me decades ago that belief that our universe, our planet, and our species have all evolved over eons does not call into question belief in God, so long as you concede that God had a role in getting it all started,” I said.

“Tony, you’re a man of many parts, aren’t you?” Father Pat suggested.

“Thank you, Father.”

At this point, the waitress returned. We postponed our teleological discussion to wade through the options in the unique menu.

Gretchen ordered a rattlesnake appetizer and a venison steak. I ordered buffalo meatloaf. Father Pat didn’t feel adventurous. He asked for a chicken Caesar salad.

I promised Father Pat that if we had one more beer, I’d front the money for a pink Jeep back to the rectory. He accepted.

While we waited for the food, we changed the subject. Father told us a bit about himself. He’d grown up a Catholic in Northern Ireland. Later, he studied at Trinity University in Dublin. After graduation, he felt the tug of the priesthood. Four years later, his parents watched his ordination. In September he’d celebrate his fifth anniversary as a priest.

Father Pat was on assignment in America. The Bishop of Phoenix had met him in Boston and invited him to spend a few months at various parishes in Arizona. He’d heard how beautiful the southwestern United States was. He jumped at the chance.

During our dinner, Father Pat counseled me on the concept of annulment. He felt that I should straighten out my issue with the Church. I listened politely.

When we’d finished and the waitress informed us that a Jeep had arrived to take Father Pat back to the parish. We began our goodbyes.

“Hope you enjoy the rest of your American tour, Father,” I offered.

“And I hope that you unravel the mystery,” He responded. “Gretchen, you are a delight. You should consider converting.”

“Not a chance, Father,” Gretchen said. “I like being married to a Catholic wannabe. I’m not interested in becoming one. It’s too tough on the knees. Besides, I’ve got a feeling that I have more pluses than minuses in St. Peter’s Great Book. I’ll see you in Heaven.”

“By the way, Father, what do you make of the inter-dimensional beings? I’ll bet they didn’t address that little issue in the seminary,” I said.

“Tony, I think that they may be real. If they are, they could be angels. Some are good. They serve the Creator and protect us from the bad ones. What else could they be?”

“Father, you surprise me with your candor.” I said.

“You’re right, Tony. We didn’t talk about aliens, extra-terrestrials, or inter-dimensional beings at the seminary. I received two bachelor degrees at Trinity College. I have one in physics and one in mathematics. We did consider these issues at university.”

“Father, as a scientist, what do you tell your atheist contemporaries when they challenge the scientific basis for your belief system? You must have encountered that, even in Dublin,” Gretchen asked.

“I have indeed. I tell them that when they can demonstrate a valid, scientifically provable explanation for a non-Divine cause for the original Singularity—the minute, infinitely dense element with zero volume—that inflated faster than the speed of light and began the evolution into our vast universe at the Big Bang, I’ll consider questioning my Faith,” Father Pat explained.

“Stephen Hawking has tried,” I pointed out.

“Bless that man and his genius,” Father said. “Despite his great intellect, I’m not convinced. I don’t find his arguments to be compelling.”

“Father, you are a man of many parts, as well,” I said, as we shook hands.

“Watch your back, mate! Don’t follow in the footsteps of your college friend.”

I nodded and smiled, but had no comment to the priest’s warning. Gretchen and I slid out of the booth and made our way from the restaurant.