Doubting Thomas

by Adam Grinter

“Hi, I’m Thomas.” I said to break the atmosphere that had descended on our silence. I was also trying to elicit some information about where I knew him from.

  “I know.” His terse reply gave nothing away. His focus on the road in front of us conveyed that no further conversation would be forthcoming.

  Our silence filled the car again. We were used to our own thoughts by now. This had a different feel to it though. The addition of our unknown driver had given the quiet an almost physical, oppressive feel to it. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and could sense slight movements from the back seat; I suppose we hoped a change of position might change the mood. It didn’t work.

  Our driver propelled us forwards wordlessly with the world around us passing much like the TV of my flat, present but not registering on our conscious thoughts.

  It didn’t take as long as I’d hoped for us to reach central London. I preferred the uncomfortable silence to the tribulation that awaited us. It was early on a Sunday morning. The traffic was light and we continued our relentless journey unimpeded.

  Our driver pulled up outside the Cathedral on a nearly deserted street. He parked the car and put down his sun-visor to show his parking permit. He was a regular visitor here then, I deduced. He got out and slowly walked round the car to open the door for John. He was glancing around himself constantly looking to see what was in every direction. His muteness and demeanour were slightly disconcerting, but that issue was very low on my list of worries. John got out of the open door, Maria and I had to open our own doors. I didn’t begrudge John his moment, he was, after all, the guest of honour.

  We walked towards the Cathedral and I looked up to see William waiting for us. He was standing like a doorman at a five star hotel, poised but ready at a moment’s notice to spring into action. He saw us and smiled. Beckoning us towards him, we quickened our step. He opened the door and we stepped into the gloom of the building.

  “John.” William said ignoring Maria and myself.

  “William.” John replied.

  They shook hands and as William withdrew, I could tell there was still a reverence in his movement. It was as if he couldn’t quite believe he had touched this person, this celebrity. It felt as if he would never wash his hand again just so it continued to contain the dirt, the DNA, the essence of the person it had once come into contact with.

  “Follow me, follow me.” William moved into the main body of the building. We did as we were urged and walked through the empty pews. Our driver stayed with us and he tagged along slightly behind our small group.

  William stopped suddenly halfway down the aisle as if he had just remembered something.

  “Oh, you’ve met Charles haven’t you?” He asked, looking at our driver.

  We nodded greetings to Charles even though we had been together for around forty minutes.

  “Thomas, you met him in Liverpool.” William stated.

  That was where I knew him from. The coffee shop in Liverpool. He’d sat silently with Martin during my first interview.

  “He’s in charge of ‘special tasks’ for us.” There was a simplicity in his words that said this was an everyday job description. “Let’s face it they don’t get more special than this.” William smiled at his own humour. We smiled along with him so as not to offend, but the smiles got no further than our lips.

  I looked back at Charles and tried to work out what was meant by the euphemism ‘special tasks’. I didn’t get a chance to come to a conclusion, William continued to drag us onwards towards the altar. He stopped in front of it and turned to us. He spread his arms to the sky so our eyes were drawn to the vista laid out before us.

  There was a festive feel to the decorations, they were gaudy and tacky. I felt they somehow summed up the whole episode we were living through. Silvers and golds were everywhere. Jesus played a part in the decoration, looking down on those who would congregate here in a couple of hours. A banner bearing the word miracle was draped around the pulpit. It looked like a frame for the headline act. A giant video screen was set up directly behind the altar for the video clips they’d planned.

  “What do you think?” William asked looking only at John.

  “Very nice.” John replied politely and diplomatically. Maria’s face betrayed a different emotion and I hoped mine remained neutral. I wasn’t sure I pulled it off.

  “Let me show you.” William put his hand on John’s shoulder and ushered him off away from us. Our presence on this tour was obviously not needed so the three of us stood awkwardly for a minute looking around, not quite sure what to do. It was Maria who tried to break the atmosphere this time.

  “So, what is ‘special tasks’ you do for William?” She had caught the comment too, she was just more brazen, and asked directly.

  “This and that.” Charles’ deep voice said cryptically. He turned and wandered after William and John ending any more enlightening conversation.

  Maria looked at me and we both shrugged our shoulders. I had an idea as to his inference. I was sure Maria did as well. Confirming our suspicions would lead to questions and they definitely weren’t ones I wanted to ask.

  “I met him briefly when I was interviewed for the job. He didn’t say anything then either.” I told her, she now knew as much about him as I did.

  “Interesting.” She ruminated.

  “Coffee?” I asked changing the subject deliberately and breaking through her moment of thought. She nodded and we walked down to my office. It was just I’d left it two weeks previously. Empty and soulless.

  I boiled my little kettle and made two black coffees as the milk had soured in my time away. The bitterness adding to the despondency I was currently feeling about my situation.

  I sat in my now comfortably familiar office chair as Maria paced and took in the small, sparse space. She studied the wooden crucifix with a steely gaze as if she could intimidate an inanimate Son of God.

  Most of my time in this job had been spent killing time. Now sat in familiar surroundings, time dragged as the dreaded hour approached. The disquiet and nervous energy built until it was almost unbearable. There was no way to release the knot tightening in my stomach. I just had to let the scene play to its inevitable conclusion.

  I could hear muffled noises coming down the hallway into my office which told me our time was nearly up. The die was cast.

  Maria heard it as well and she took a final swig of fortifying bitterness and put the empty mug next to the still warm kettle. I did the same, with a grimace. We both took a deep breath of slightly musty air to steel ourselves for the ordeal to come.

  We exited the small side door back into the main Cathedral. The building was starting to fill up. People were moving towards the pews with a determination I’d never witnessed for a church service before. There was a controlled speed to their movements, a reverence to their location but a need to find a seat and be one of the lucky ones to witness this event.

  Maria and I went looking for William and John. Behind the altar and to its left was a small vestibule and Charles ostentatiously stood guard making sure only the accepted were allowed access. We wandered over.

  Charles barred our way and wouldn’t let us in.

  “Not now Thomas.” He stated. There was a hint of menace in his voice that told me not to argue. Considering the location and John’s presence I didn’t feel it was in anyone’s best interests to disagree. The fact the world’s press was in attendance and I didn’t want to be in a fight shown around the globe forced my hand. Maria and I withdrew to sit on the far end of the front pew. John would see us when he walked by and we could give him moral support from where we sat.

  “We about to lose him.” Maria said quietly to me.

  “It’ll be alright.” I replied, attempting to offer hope when I agreed with her despair wholeheartedly.

  The Cathedral continued to fill up. Stationary TV cameras at the rear of the building rolled and shot atmospheric landscape shots of the build up to this seismic event. Roving reporters with
hand-held cameras tried to interview anyone who would talk to them. I was sure the content being beamed into houses around the world was building the hype the church had put into this moment. It felt very much like the launch of a new blockbuster movie. Microphones were being thrust into the faces of anyone within arm’s reach. They hoped someone would say something profound, stupid or unexpected. They would then be able to spend twenty-five minutes discussing the meaning behind the banality.

  I looked at my watch. Ten minutes.

  The organist started playing quietly. I didn’t recognise the hymn, it was surprisingly uplifting and jolly in a way that was at odds with my feelings. I let the music wash over me in the hope it would seep into my consciousness and change my mood. I closed my eyes and concentrated on positive thoughts.

  Maria nudged me. “Were snoring.” She whispered as I opened my eyes.

  We both genuinely smiled at the brief moment of normalcy.

  There was a swell in the music and William walked out to take centre stage in this drama. A hush descended over the assembled crowd.

  Normality was about to change.

  Song of Songs

  John sat alone in the vestibule. He’d never been alone in the vestibule of a church, let alone a Cathedral. He felt quite privileged to be allowed.

  He’d been whisked through the building by William. Now as he sat catching his thoughts he realised Thomas and Maria were not here with him.

  Where were they?

  Why had they left him?

  Why wouldn’t Charles let him find them?

  Mother did her best to calm him.

  ‘They are in there for you. Close your eyes and feel their good wishes for you.’

  He closed his eyes but couldn’t feel anything except a rising panic. He would have to do this on his own.

  ‘I’m here with you. I won’t leave you. I’ll help you. Trust me. I love you.’

  Her words helped and the calmness returned.

  William had thrust two sheets of paper in John’s hand before walking out of the small room.

  “You will need to read this when you give your talk to the congregation.” William had told him.

  John wanted to read it. Mother told him not to.

  ‘I’ll help you. Leave it to me.’ She’d told him. He folded the sheets in half and held onto them.

  John could hear the service taking place from the other room. The music was beautiful, he allowed it to sweep him up in its glorious swells. The congregation was full, the sound of joyous voices filled his heart with happiness.

  A muted sermon was delivered. John couldn’t make out the words but knew the sentiment behind them. A final Amen was delivered with gusto.

  Charles’ head poked around the door and told him to follow him. John was scared of Charles.

  He did as he was told.

  Chapter Thirty

  Charles led the way and John followed behind him as they made their way to the stage. John ascended the stairs to stand framed by the word miracle for all to see.

  He looked small. He looked young. He looked terrified.

  My heart went out to him. He’d been thrust into this position by an establishment that didn’t seem to care how much they damaged him.

  He slowly opened the sheets of paper held in his hand and smoothed them on the dais in front of him.

  The Cathedral was silent. Everybody’s eyes were glued to him. I assumed the eyes of the world were glued to him as well.

  Slowly, slightly falteringly in a voice that only just rose above a whisper. He started to read the words laid out before him into the microphone strategically placed to pick up his message.

  “My… my name is John, John Byrne.” Pause. “I am here because I have a message that needs to be heard.” Long pause. “That’s not just my opinion even God has told you to listen to me.”

  The footage of the priests began to play on the screen. I had seen one or two of the videos but there were about twenty clips edited together. All different but all inherently the same. The subtitles underneath reiterating the message that John needed to be listened to.

  I looked back at John. He was turned towards the footage, watching it with a steely determination. Having got to know him briefly over the last couple of days it was a look I had not seen on him before.

  He stood straighter. His eyes were wider. There was a confidence emanating from him I didn’t know he possessed.

  Maria nudged me again, she’d seen it too.

  “I know. I know.” I whispered to her.

  When he spoke again there was no hesitation, there was more volume and there was a strength to his tone that had not been there before.

  “The Lord has spoken through his servants on Earth. The message I have is Heaven sent, it is divine, it is undeniable.”

  He was sticking to the script, that would please the bishops.

  “I have come to share the word. I am here to build a bridge.”

  That wasn’t in the script. I leaned forward on the pew.

  “In this time of anger and division, stop your arguments. Listen to each other. Agree with each other. Find the common ground. Reconcile with your enemy, celebrate with him.”

  Can’t argue with that.

  “You have all been given a gift. Your gift is you. You are perfect, you are in His image. You need to give that gift to the world. You need to share you with others. Don’t hide your gift. Talk to others share their gift, give freely of your gift, share it with the world.”

  “The ten commandments laid down from the time of Moses tell us God’s laws. I have not come to change these laws but so you remember them. They tell you right from wrong, they give you the keys to unlock the gates of Heaven. Live by them and you will have eternal life by His side.”

  “You have forgotten the message sent down with His only Son. You have gone back to the old teachings. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. He has told you to turn the other cheek. You recite the Lord’s prayer but ignore its meaning and words. You take the lines that suit you and ignore the ones that inconvenience you. You wear the words you agree with as a cloak to shield you from the cold of this disconnected world. Have you forgotten; forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those that trespass against us. God forgives us when we do wrong but if you can’t forgive those that wrong you, how can you expect our Heavenly Father to forgive you.”

  “God lets the sun shine on the good and the evil. He lets the rain fall on the evil and the good. He treats all equally. He does not judge you as you judge each other.”

  “God knows what is in your heart. In these times of social media, of everything being public property, of everybody’s fifteen minutes of fame, the most divine are those that keep their beliefs and good deeds to themselves. They do not need to shout from the rooftops, they do not need other’s approval. The fake news of Godliness does not impress our Father. He knows you, you will have your reward. Those hypocrites that shout openly of their beliefs, that profess their holiness. They will be judged.”

  “Our Father knows what you need. Do not ask him for things you want, He knows what you need. He will deliver. The animals in the fields and the wild, the flowers and the trees. God provides for them. They do not go hungry they have all they need if treated right. Are you not better than the animals and plants? Treat people right and you will have all you need.”

  “Worldly possessions do not complete you. The kingdom of Heaven awaits us all and you cannot take it with you. You will have all the riches you need when you reach His house. Stuff can break, stuff can rust, stuff can moulder, stuff is temporary. His kingdom is eternal.”

  “In order to change someone else, you must change yourself. How can you take the pain away from another if you are in pain. Heal yourself.”

  “Not all will heed this message but all those that hear it and believe it and live it will know our Father. If you ask you will receive. Whose father would cast them out in their time of need? None, none.”

  “Your legacy will sho
w our Father your heart. He knows not every good deed is done in his name, but every good deed has his blessing. Not every heart will turn to him, but all whose hearts do will have their reward at his table.”

  “His message is a simple one. Do good. Spread good. Believe in him. Your reward will be eternal.”

  John’s shoulders slumped as he delivered the last line. He staggered slightly backwards and Charles who stood watching from the bottom of the small staircase put out a hand to steady him if he were to step too close to the edge.

  The silence in the Cathedral was deafening as the congregation took in the meaning of what had been said.

  William returned to the altar looking confused at what had just happened.

  “Thank you for your time today, we will see you next week.” He said weakly.

  The organist struck a hymn that obviously signalled the end of the service. It was almost like the signal the congregation had needed. The reverence they had shown during the service disappeared. The noise rose as people discussed what had been said. I saw pieces of paper being clutched in hands nearest to me. I could make out some of the writing, it was a copy of the words the church had wanted John to deliver. The words they expected to hear.

  The church wanted people to take away his words and be ready for the fight they were about to undertake. Their call to arms had fallen flat. Rather than getting ready for a war they had been called out to their faces. They had been called hypocrites, they had been called out for not doing enough, they were being asked to change the whole way they believed.

  There was pandemonium. People were pushing to reach William, to reach John, to ask the meaning of the insults. The noise level was increasing as people were shouting to be heard.

  The world’s TV cameras took in the scene of Christians baying for blood. Of normal people ignoring the message and immediately taking offence. Proving the words right.

  Maria and I sat still taking in John’s words. They were the message the church should have told him to say. They were words of reconciliation. They were a real message of love, not anger. They promoted togetherness not division. They were good. They were right.