Now, sitting in this oaken box, he could not repress a deep unease that took him back to those days at St. Luke’s at the south end of Hartford, where Father Infantino tried to pound the fear of God into his adolescent brain.
“Were you were raised Roman Catholic?”
“Yes—early on.”
“So, you strayed from your faith.”
“Something like that.”
“What made you choose this parish to return?”
“I guess it’s like the traditional Catholicism I grew up with.”
From what he knew, St. Pius Church still held sacred pre–Vatican II dogma, resisting efforts to modernize the Church—holding fast to the sanctity of the literal Bible, the Latin mass, the dress codes for women, the firm stand on divorce, and the conviction that there was no salvation for those outside the Roman Catholic Church. The parish also rejected reconciliation with the Jews. From what Roman had heard, St. Pius Church was a small, white, conservative enclave of traditionalist worshippers who upheld Catholic purity within a Church that had become too liberal and a culture that rejected God’s Word. Given his sins, Roman figured that he needed a ministry of severe unction.
“Then we welcome you back, my son, but know that your sins are very heavy.”
“I know and I’m asking forgiveness.”
“Good, and no matter how heavy, there is a way back to God, my son.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“But for such special circumstances, special sanctions are necessary. Do you believe in God the Father Almighty and his son Jesus Christ our savior?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe that God answers prayers?”
“Yes, and I ask that He save my soul.”
“He will because God sees you and He loves you. And He will welcome you home.”
Roman took in the comfort of those words. “Thank you, Father.”
“Do you believe in evil?”
“Evil?” The question caught him off guard. “I guess. There’s a lot of it out there.”
“So it seems. Do you believe in the devil?”
“No, not really.”
“So you believe only people are evil.”
“Yeah. Because evil is what people do, what gives them pleasure.”
“I see. Did you get pleasure from your profession?”
Roman picked up on the careful wording, though he was beginning to wonder about the direction of the interrogation. “It was a job, and I was good at it.”
“You did it for money, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And what do you think are the motivations of evil?”
“I never thought about that. I guess lots of motivations—power, money…”
“No, only one: revenge. It is the one true source of evil in the world. All other motivations—power, money, lust—they’re mere variations. Revenge. It’s what Satan taught mankind. It’s his sole motive: getting back at God. You plied your trade to get back at the economic inequities in your life, correct?”
Plied your trade. The guy was being discreet, knowing that Roman was looking for any sign of a trap. “I guess you can look at it that way.”
“Revenge against higher forces,” he whispered. “It’s the same motive behind Satan’s attempt to overthrow God. It’s what Satan did to get back once ousted from heaven. It’s still what he does, filling the world with evil in vengeance against God. If you believe in God, my son, belief in Satan is only a half step away. He’s as real as you and I.”
All Roman could think to say was, “Okay.”
“Would you like to reinstate your soul with God?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Would you like to reconcile your life of sin with God, to make up for your transgressions?”
“If I can, yeah.”
“You can, but you must believe completely. And if you have any doubt in God’s love and forgiveness, you must ask yourself if your disbelief is worth forfeiting eternal life in paradise. And that’s what hell is—never waking up, being dead forever and not knowing it. But for those who believe, heaven is living forever in the eternal awareness of God’s love.”
Roman was losing him. “Okay.”
“And you are wrong about evil being solely the acts of man. The greatest evil is the handiwork of Satan—Satan, the Great Deceiver. Satan, who leads man astray. Satan, whose greatest trick was convincing the world that he doesn’t exist. Satan, who stands in the way of your own salvation.”
Now the guy was going off on a tangent.
“Do you know about Saint Michael?”
“No.”
“Saint Michael was the perfect Christian soldier, the archangel of God who led forces against the darkness of evil led by Satan. He is the defender of God and the protection of the Holy Catholic Church.”
“Uh-huh.” Roman wished the guy would give him his Hail Marys and let him leave.
“Your being here is not an accident. God sent you to earn your way to salvation by following the path of Saint Michael through the darkness into the eternal light of heaven.”
“I’m not sure what you’re telling me.”
“I’m telling you that a mission of salvation is before you.”
“What mission?”
“To be a warrior for the Lord God Almighty, Mr. Pace.”
Mr. Pace. “How do you know my name?”
“That’s not important.”
Roman wondered if maybe a security camera outside the church had recorded his license plate and they had somehow had access to the RMV database.
“What is important is that you accept this mission to redeem yourself in defense of the Lord Jesus Christ.”
More silence filled the booth. “What are you asking me?”
“To ply your trade in the name of the Lord.”
It must have taken the better part of a minute for Roman to absorb what the man was saying. “You want me to whack Satan?”
“No, one of Satan’s doormen. Someone who’s blasphemed against the Lord God Almighty.”
“This is crazy. Who are you? How do you know me?”
“None of that’s important.” Then the small door at the base of the grille slid back and the priest’s hand slid through a plain brown envelope that was as thick as a brick. “Please open it.”
Roman did. Inside was $15,000 in three banded five-grand packs of hundred-dollar bills.
“This is yours, and so is salvation should you accept this mission.”
Roman looked at the money, feeling the heft. He placed the pack on the sill between them. He still could not see the priest’s face—if he was a priest. “This isn’t what I came for.”
“I’m sure, but your coming was a godsend.”
“That’s a lot of money,” he said, feeling his resolve slip. “So, what exactly did he do?”
“He and his associates are offending the Lord in the worst possible way.”
Roman muffled a chuckle with a humpf. “What’s worse than murder?”
“Blasphemy against the Holy Spirit. And God is asking you to be His warrior and is offering you a second chance at life eternal.”
A second chance at life eternal.