The Accidental Pope (33 page)

The pope frowned, aware that he was not yet in the loop. Here was a man meeting with him for the sake of courtesy, because he was pope. They apparently didn't consider his opinions relevant yet, he realized. And he was an American! His mind began to assimilate previous information that Cardinal Robitelli had mentioned and the
avviso
's warning concerning his native land. He had never been informed, actually, about the underlying issues involved.

When Bill Kelly became angry, his mind accelerated like a computer. An idea formed four squares in his head. “Say, Your Excellency, did you ever read or hear how some people try to learn God's will by flipping open the Bible and choosing a random passage to see what it says?”

The archbishop stared at the pope in disbelief, remembering St. Augustine.
Robitelli is right,
he thought.
This upstart is a gadfly.
He shifted, uneasily but smoothly, in his chair. “Why, yes, Pope Bill. I have heard about that. You know, St. Augustine. I have done it a few times myself … as a young boy.”

The pope reached for the huge Bible resting beside a pile of papers on his desk. Archbishop Locatelli watched in amazement as the pope leafed through the Bible, lifted it, and then let it drop loudly on the desk. His forefinger came down on the open book, and he bent over to see what revelation it would offer, not noticing the archbishop shaking his head in astonishment.

Locatelli thought he might as well humor his deranged pontiff. “What did God tell us? Any solutions to our problems?”

The pope looked up momentarily and back down. “I don't know exactly. ‘Tell Pharaoh to let my people go!'” he recited loudly.

The two men looked at one another questioningly. “Maybe try two out of three, Your Holiness,” Locatelli swallowed and suggested. “Sometimes these things take time.”

The pope seated himself in his chair with a slight grunt. He looked at the archbishop, then back at the book. Suddenly the light seemed to dawn. He settled back in his chair, eyes closed. Locatelli nervously watched someone who seemed lost somewhere in his thoughts. “Eh, Pope Bill,” he prompted, “are you all right?”

The pope's eyes abruptly opened, looking straight at the nuncio. A smile curved his lips. “Yes, Your Excellency, I'm fine. Now I think I see our answer.”

The nuncio uneasily shifted in his chair again, not sure of his ground as the pope continued. “I think we should look at that statement in a more contemporary and spiritual sense. As if we are pharaohs.”

The nuncio's brow furrowed noticeably. “I'm afraid you've lost me, Your Holiness. What do you mean, ‘we are pharaohs'?”

The pope pushed himself up and out of his seat, walking toward the window behind him. He stared out at the blue sky. After a few moments he turned around to face the nuncio again. “Don't you see? Who was Pharaoh? A man of power and authority. He pushed poor people around. He couldn't find any solutions either, because he couldn't look at other people's problems, only his own. To keep the old customs going. The old ways. To separate rich and poor … slave versus master … whatever. Even the miracles Moses performed couldn't alter his mind, or his heart. Maybe that's what's wrong with this whole setup, Your Excellency. Maybe we need to really become more understanding of those homeless people, drug addicts, and inner-city poor. We need to be less pretentious about what we are doing. By our action or by our lack of action, by our misdirected action, we hold God's people in bondage.” He pointed his index finger directly at the archbishop and his voice quivered. “Tell them to let my people go!”

The archbishop sat mesmerized. His mind kept reverting from a review of the pope's words to the confidential conversation he had recently held with Cardinal Robitelli before leaving his ornately decorated office. “The man's a nut, a total nut.”

In silence Locatelli sat gathering his thoughts as he watched Peter II move away from the window to sit down. He waited while the pope dried his eyes and reached for a pen and paper. Suddenly the nuncio felt sorry for this poor fisherman who had been thrust into a foreign environment with absolutely no idea how things worked in the vast, Byzantine complex of the Vatican. His own innate goodness urged him to help. He began impulsively.

“Well, Pope Peter, I must say you have a very interesting way of interpreting this passage. I'm not sure it suits our situation. We have always set up soup kitchens and clothing bins where the poor can come for help. It costs us a great deal of money to rent buildings for shelters for the destitute. Our people in the field are pushed to the limit donating to others without enough to take for themselves. I don't see how we can do more. But I admire your deep concern for God's people.”

Archbishop Locatelli paused, becoming aware that the pope was not looking up at him as he spoke but was silently scribbling something on a pad in front of him. The nuncio waited for some sign of recognition. After what seemed forever the pope looked up.

“Open your Churches, Your Excellency! Open the Churches and schools and leave them open … all the time!”

“What?” the archbishop mumbled in bewilderment.

“Are you deaf, man? I said open the Church doors and leave them open.”

“We can't do that,” Locatelli snapped, shocked. “They would come in and steal … make a total mess of the place. It's impossible!”

“You see,” Bill shot back, “always concern for our possessions. Let them take the candlesticks or whatever else isn't glued down. Then we won't have to worry about them anymore. Yes, that's it! Apostolic poverty. Like the old days, when I was a boy. We stopped by our Church anytime to talk to God. Don't you remember? It's exactly what set us apart. It could, should, be like that again! Everyone will know that they can find refuge in the Catholic Church. I don't believe it would be all that bad. People respect property if it is theirs. Let them know it is theirs. In time they'll get used to it. Maybe the other denominations will do the same. We don't serve
things,
Archbishop Locatelli. We serve
people.
We need to address those people, discover their problems and how we might help them.”

The nuncio, stupefied, was left speechless. He didn't know whether to reply or to run. The pope made the choice for him. “Discuss my idea with Gino Robitelli and the finance staff. Then maybe we can kick it around and come up with some realistic conclusions before you leave. Thank you for coming here to fill me in on my native country's problems.”

Bill followed the nuncio, who was beating a hasty retreat to the door and all the while glancing back uneasily at the pope.

“And I deeply appreciate your courageously expressing your concern about American Church leaders. I agree the Church must fight in the political arena for what we believe in, and I strongly believe that U.S. leaders cannot be cafeteria Catholics either. They can't choose which issues are politically popular, like AIDS, housing, and health care, then take a walk on other Church issues that are less popular. Everyone wants to be a leader, but they only want to lead on certain issues. Like they say at the Portuguese Club in New Bedford, ‘Everyone wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die.' It seems to me that the United States needs a pro-life, pro-family, and pro-needy political movement!”

By then the nuncio had fled down the corridor, taking the first turn that would put him out of sight.

28

THE EASTERN ORTHODOX CONSPIRACY

Bill chuckled to himself as he watched the black-and-red-swaddled archbishop virtually fleeing down the long marble hall leading ultimately to the Sistine Chapel. The usually taciturn Swiss guards were looking after him, openly puzzled. Tim Shanahan glanced at the unnerved nuncio quizzically.

“What's with him?” Tim asked as he entered the outer reception room.

“I'm afraid I made a suggestion that sounded as though I advocated the Church sharing its wealth with the parishioners,” Bill confessed. “Come on into the library. Fortunately, I have no other appointments this afternoon. Some tea and Irish bread, Tim? My daughter Meghan baked it last night. The Irish nuns here love it.”

“Sounds lovely.” They entered the secure, bug-free apostolic library. Instead of retreating behind his desk, Bill took a seat on the sofa, gesturing to Tim to sit in the facing armchair. He wasted no time getting to the topic concerning him most. “Gus Motupu called. He couldn't talk openly on the phone but he needs to see me as soon as possible.”

Tim nodded. “From sketchy news reports and what I hear from my own net, the Church, Cardinal Moputu in particular, has big problems in Africa.”

“I keep current, Tim. What am I missing?”

Tim took a deep breath. “It all goes back to World War II and, of course, Pope Pius XII.”

Bill nodded thoughtfully. “From the
avviso
I know that events of half a century ago are shaping our destiny in the new millennium. My predecessor has warned me.”

Tim gave the pope a questioning glance. “The
avviso
?”

“I finally cracked the code.” Bill grinned. “Learned Italian, that is.”

“You still haven't shared it?”

“Robitelli keeps asking, but I told him John Paul II did not want it made public. Some of what the pope confided flies in the face of his own public stance. For instance, he never wanted to criticize the Eastern Orthodox Church even when he knew the patriarch was responsible for outlawing Catholicism in Russia and the continuing campaign against our Church in the Balkans, despite John Paul II's missionary visit to Romania.”

“He told you that in this
avviso
?”

“He wrote that and more in full confidence that it will never be published.”

“Any other information you would like to”—Tim's voice took on an ironic tone—“communicate to your ‘private secretary'?”

“Certainly. The time has come for me to share his revelations with a few trusted people. The pope was shocked and horrified when the Russian Orthodox patriarch refused to join him in protesting Serb conduct in the 1999 war in Yugoslavia. The Serbs turned thousands of people in Kosovo out of their homes and country. They froze and starved these victims of religious and ethnic persecution, which the Russian Church could have prevented by joining the pope's call for a Serbian cessation of the war. The Orthodox leadership in Moscow showed their true colors by not telling its Belgrade adherents to stop persecuting, driving from their homes, and killing all the ethnic Albanians, who are mostly Muslim, they could find. A terrible revenge for past centuries of Muslim outrages against Christians, no doubt. But as Pope John Paul said about capital punishment, an eye for an eye merely means two people are blinded, not one.”

Both the pope and his top adviser were silent for some moments. Then Bill said, “The message of the
avviso
unequivocally states that it will be John Paul II's successor's job to steer a course between Muslim extremism and the Eastern Orthodox Church in the Balkans. The danger may be great. It might take the reigns of two or three popes, ‘short ones,' he wrote ominously, to succeed in bringing peace between regions, which, he pointed out, was far from accomplished in his own reign.” After a long, contemplative pause, Bill observed quietly, “Now you tell me about the relevance today of what happened over half a century ago.”

“I'll sum up the situation as briefly as possible, Bill.”

“Take the time you need. Gus has a problem he can't even talk about over the telephone. By the time he arrives here, I need to be aware of all the ramifications of whatever difficulties he finds himself confronting.”

Tim nodded and stood up, walking over to a mahogany table on which were arrayed certain personal artifacts. He picked up the carving dedicated to Our Lady of Fatima. “Here is the crux of the problem that faced us midway through World War II and confronts Africa today. It concerns the message Our Lady gave to three Portuguese children in the year 1917.”

“I'm deeply concerned about what remains the third secret's revelation,” Bill said. “But it seems every time I ask to see if there is any more information following the message dictated by Sister Lucia, some Vatican excuse surfaces. Cardinal Robitelli doesn't think I'm ready for it and that only he should deal with it. That's just speculation on my part, but I'm certain I'm right.”

Tim smiled. “Back at the height of the War in 1942 and '43, the Vatican was virtually held hostage by Hitler and the Nazis.” He examined the wood carving a moment. “The second prophecy warns us that Russia, unless converted, will ultimately prove the cause of world destruction. Pius XII concluded because of wartime suffering in the then Soviet Union that a part of the prophecy—the beginning part—was coming true. That was, quote, ‘Only if Russia were changed would there be peace in the world,' unquote!”

Tim flashed a mischievous grin at the pope. “I'm afraid Pius XII jumped the gun a bit when he announced in a prayer broadcast about Europe that in effect ‘Russia will be converted and there will be peace.' The Nazis linked this apparently pro-Russian prayer to the Allied invasion of North Africa and a general marshaling of religious forces throughout occupied Europe favoring the Russian side. The overall feeling among people in the pews was that Communist Russia would be reconverted, and, thanks to Russia, after the war there would be a spiritual renewal throughout the overall Christian Church. That being so, the Communist danger did not really, ultimately exist.

“The pope's interpretation of the second Fatima prophecy was seized upon by the Nazis, especially in light of their defeats on the Russian front, as a wave of Catholic-inspired anti-Nazi sentiment generated throughout the world, particularly in Italy. This general belief would adversely affect the German war machine—or so the Nazis felt.” Tim Shanahan replaced the carving on the table and turned back to the pope.