The Father's Son

by Jim Sano

  At four o’clock, Izzie interrupted, “Mr. Kelly, I have your calendar blocked off for the rest of the day. I hope I have that right for today?”

  David really didn’t know what to do. In any event, he was feeling as if he needed to get out of the office. “Thanks, Izzie. I appreciate the reminder. Why don’t you leave early yourself to avoid the rush and spend time with your family?”

  Izzie thanked him as he headed downstairs with his bag in hand.

  When David reached the lobby, he saw Tom sitting on one of the couches dressed for playing but with his jacket on.

  Tom waved and came over. “I didn’t know what you were planning on, but with the cooler weather, I thought I’d see if you were up to playing indoors?”

  David was actually glad to see Tom and appreciated that he made the effort to wait for him.

  They walked the few blocks to St. Anthony’s and into the churchyard, toward a door of the school. School had been let out for the day, but there were still students finishing up projects, helping out with chores around the school, or waiting for their parents to pick them up. As they passed each student, Tom greeted each one by name.

  When they got to the gym, the late afternoon sun was streaming in through the windows and onto the well-used floor. David loved the feel of older gyms that reminded him of playing on the old courts in Lynn where he first came to love the game. The sound of the basketball pounding on the old wooden floor and the swish of the net as Tom sank shot after shot had a different feel, sound, and smell than playing on an outdoor court. Both had their advantages, but David loved playing indoors where memories of practices and tense games flooded his senses.

  When David was ready, Tom made a two-handed chest pass to him that he caught and turned into a quick jump shot without touching iron.

  “So, what do you think?”

  David smiled because he knew just what Tom was asking and took the ball to the basket for a reverse layup shot. “I think I like it. I didn’t know you had your own court. No wonder you come so ready to beat me each week.”

  “First of all, it isn’t my court, and what would a respectable Catholic church be without a basketball gym? Secondly, I don’t get time to practice, so you can get that thought out of your head.”

  Two of the high school players showed up and challenged them to a series of competitive games. Afterwards, David and Tom sat on the floor with their backs to the wall, forearms resting on their kneecaps, and the sun on their faces as the good feeling of sweat dripped down their foreheads. Staring forward, Tom said, “Now what are we going to do?”

  David asked, “About what?”

  Tom’s smile went to one side of his face. “Those boys have worn us out and we haven’t even played to see who’s buying tonight.”

  David nodded. “Ahhh, that is a problem because, right now, I would just roll the ball out on the court and let you win.”

  Tom said, “Sounds good. I’ll take the win and a nice cold Guinness.”

  Luckily the pub was only a few blocks over, and David put up two fingers as he nodded to Dempsey. The two of them made their way to their favorite booth to rest their weary bones.

  Dempsey came over with two beers and teriyaki wings on the house. “You boys look like you could use nourishment.”

  They raised their glasses to Dempsey and then clanged them together before taking that first soothing sip.

  “That was hard work but fun today,” David said. “Those boys must’ve been well coached by someone. Should I guess who that might be?”

  “I could use some help coaching the younger boys’ team this year if you are ever interested.”

  The idea intrigued David, but he didn’t know how practical it would be with his schedule.

  “Think about it. We will be having tryouts after Thanksgiving before starting practices.”

  David took another sip and said he’d think about it, but that he was thinking about something else as well.

  Tom leaned forward, stared at David with interest and asked with an Irish accent, “Now, what is it that is troubling you, David?”

  David was quiet for a minute and then pulled out the picture postcard but didn’t display it as he spoke. “Tom, I had questioned you before about the last two notes and I don’t want to do that again, but last night—”

  Tom interrupted, “You got another one? Who has access to your place?”

  David said, “I did and no one else should have access since I had all the locks changed. The only reason I’m showing you this one is because of the name on the top.”

  David slid the postcard across the table to Tom, who looked at it with great interest. “I assume you mean the name ‘Luke’ and you think it may have some connection to my little brother?”

  David said, “I really don’t know what to think anymore. Somehow, someway, someone is playing a game with me, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out what it’s about. It seemed to start after we met, and the first two messages seemed to have something more to do with your job than mine, and now the name ‘Luke’ appears in the third one? Can you think of anything? Because I’ve racked my brain on this one.”

  Tom studied the cryptic set of letters:

  Luke

  H A

  U

  W ? T

  Tom was struggling to figure the message out but was coming up short. “Well, it’s clear that the name at the top is ‘Luke’ but the rest is a mystery. Did you find anything else besides the note? The building on the front of the postcard seems like a nondescript white building, not new and nothing fancy. Does it look familiar?”

  “Nope and there was nothing else. Oh, wait a minute. The only other weird thing was that my clock was moved.”

  “Moved to where?”

  “They didn’t move the clock, but the hands were moved. It is an old clock that hasn’t worked for over thirty years, so the hands have always been in the same position, 10:15.”

  “Huh. What were the hands moved to?”

  David looked down at the picture. “The hour hand was on the nine and the minute hand on the four. I don’t know why they would bother.”

  Tom was nodding his head and said, “I don’t think they would unless it was connected. So, it was 10:15, and they moved it to 9:04?”

  “No, the minute hand was on the number four, so it was set to 9:20.”

  “Okay. I think the question mark means it’s asking a question versus a missing letter because no letter would make sense. Also, the ‘U’ is bold, so I think it’s separate from the other letters. If we were to remove the Luke, the ‘U’ and the question mark, the remaining letters say—”

  David said, “H A W T. Maybe it’s just someone from Hyde Park who spells the way he talks–like ‘It’s wicked hawt out’?”

  Tom laughed. “I’m glad you’re keeping a sense of humor. You can see that the W and T are placed further out, so I think it’s W H A T and the letters are around the letter U and then a question mark.”

  David scratched his head. “So, it says, ‘Luke, what around you?’”

  Tom was thinking and then muttering, “Luke, what around you? Or Luke, what about you? That probably makes more sense. 9:20? Luke 9:20. Luke 9:20, and then, “What about you?’”

  David felt more perplexed. “Okay. I still don’t know what it means.”

  “I hate to tell you this, but it’s one of the key verses in the New Testament from Luke, not my brother Luke, but the Greek physician that followed Paul and wrote one of the four Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles. Jesus was asking the apostles who people were saying he was, and the apostles said that people were saying he was John the Baptist or Elijah or another great prophet come back to life. Then in Luke 9:20, Jesus asks his apostles, “But what about you? Who do you say I am?’”

  “So, what did they say?”

  A few of the other guys in the next booth started listening for the answer.

  “If you read through the Gospels, it’s amazing to see how often the apostles
admitted to not really understanding everything Jesus was saying or the full extent of who he was. Jesus was now looking at each of them and asking them who they thought he was. Peter was the only one to answer the question, ‘You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.’ This is when Jesus knew that Peter would be the rock he would build His Church on. He looked at Peter and said, ‘Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven. And I say also to you, that you are Peter, and on this rock, I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. And I will give to you the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatever you shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatever you shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.’ Jesus then told all of them what He had to do and what would happen to Him in Jerusalem.”

  David gazed at him. “And you know that all off the top of your head?”

  “Well, I have studied it, and I recently read the passage for a talk I gave on the same topic. It’s a pretty pivotal reading of the Gospel. The real question for us is, ‘Who do we say that Jesus is?’ The message may be just that: What about you?”

  “It’s not really something I’ve thought much about or something that I’ve really wanted to think much about.”

  One of the guys in the booth behind them got up and asked, “Hey, how do we even know that Jesus existed?”

  Tom replied, “Well, the overwhelming majority of historians have looked at the evidence, the Gospel witnesses, Paul’s letters, references by the Roman historian Tacitus and Jewish historian Josephus, writings by governor Pliny the Younger, Justin Martyr, an ossuary stone box from the first century referencing Jesus, and the very strong oral tradition of that time and era. Many of these writers would’ve run into some major criticism from witnesses and others of the time who had a stake in not letting the story of Jesus gain traction.”

  The man said, “But you can’t trust that the gospels were actually written anywhere near the time of Jesus or that the writers didn’t just concoct a myth.”

  Tom agreed. “There have been a lot of conspiracy theories such as Constantine actually creating the myth of Jesus in the fourth century and writing the gospels then or at least cherry picking the writings he liked. How interested are you in the truth about this?”

  The man said, “I’d like to know. I’m always open, more than most, anyway.”

  “Okay, good,” Tom responded. “Historians have found fragments of gospel writings from the first or early second century that match exactly to current Bible writings. No other ancient writing has more numerous and earlier copies to validate its accuracy. The very early Church fathers and writers talked about the practices and gospels of the Church long before Constantine made Christianity legal in the Roman Empire. Until that time, Christians had been oppressed and killed. You would need to study oral tradition at that time, but it was strong and valid as a passed-down source of truth. Expert translations have confirmed that the Gospels were written fairly early based on the eyewitnesses and those that followed them.

  “It’s important to note that, despite years of teaching by Jesus before his death, the apostles were still afraid and not that enlightened. Jesus said that he would send the Holy Spirit to fill them with the truth and the courage to go out and teach as Jesus taught, to forgive sins, to heal the sick, and to spread the truth with an inspired understanding of His good news. After they were breathed on by the Holy Spirit, these men went from hiding and fearing for their lives to speaking in languages they didn’t know, performing miracles and being willing to suffer imprisonment, torture, and gruesome deaths to spread the Gospel. Does it make any sense that all these apostles would’ve done this if they all knew it was a lie?”

  By this time, several others gathered around the booth. One of the men said, “It doesn’t make sense that they would all do that, and it wouldn’t make sense for secular historians of the time to reference someone who didn’t exist, but what makes you think that Jesus was anything but a man who happened to have a gift?”

  Tom said to the rest of the men, “Any thoughts?”

  Someone who was standing said, “Well, it’s safer and easier to believe he wasn’t actually God because, if he were, then we would have to seriously pay attention to what he said and did.”

  Tom said, “Well said. The answer to this question is a really big deal for each one of us. No lunatic showed the level of wisdom that Jesus did, but if He wasn’t who He said He was, He’d have to be a lunatic or a liar to claim to be one with God Himself. The founder of no other faith has made that claim. Jesus said, ‘I and the Father are one,’ ‘before Abraham was, I am,’ and ‘He who sees me sees the Father.’

  “Lunatics and liars don’t perform the many miracles that Jesus did. There are about fifty pretty amazing miracles in the Gospels, but I think that being resurrected from the dead and then being witnessed by more than five hundred people might be worth taking note. How could all these people be so willing to give everything up for a lie that could be refuted by so many people? You have to decide if you truly believe that Jesus was a liar, a crazy man, or who He said He was. Better than that, take time just to read through the four Gospels and see what you think. I guarantee you that it’s the most surprising and profound true story you will ever read.”

  Sam said, “Let me ask a question. You two guys have come into this pub for the past several weeks with the authentic-looking sweat of a couple of regular guys, but you bring in these debates that you never hear in a pub or most any other place. Truth, God, Jesus.”

  David said, “Is there a question in there?”

  Sam said, “Well, is this some type of devious way to get us into adult religion classes or something?”

  Tom laughed. “Not by us, but maybe Dempsey has been planting these clues because he is worried about you guys.”

  Dempsey, who was always paying attention to everything going on in his pub, loudly cleared his throat. “I’d be charging tuition if this was my doing.”

  Someone yelled out, “Hopefully, you are making enough off of the concessions,” and everyone laughed.

  Tom said, “The two questions I always ask myself are, ‘If it were true, would I want to know?’ and if it is, ‘What would I do about it?’ For me, I found that Jesus is the answer to all the important questions in life and about what being a man really means. Most of us are drifting through life, too busy to stop and think about what it’s really all about until we retire. Then we’ve lived most of our lives without meaning, without purpose, and without real love and joy.”

  Sam said, “You really believe that?”

  Tom said, “I do.”

  Someone else said, “Do you believe it enough to die for it?”

  Tom said, “I do.” This made David look up at Tom, and it was as if he got a peek inside Tom’s soul for a second, which was a new experience for David.

  David and Tom finished up their beers and said goodnight to Dempsey. On the way out. Dempsey said, “We have a pool going to try to guess next week’s surprise topic lesson. Did you want to get in on it?”

  David said, “Dempsey, if we can have them break into your house to leave you the clues, then I’m definitely in.”

  Outside the pub, Tom said to David, “With the break-ins, are you concerned about going back to your apartment?”

  “Maybe I should be concerned, but I think I’ll be good.”

  “Okay, but you can stay at my place anytime. Do you think you should call the police?”

  David replied, “It probably makes sense, but like you had said before, they probably aren’t trying to do me any harm. I’d just like to figure out who it is and how the heck they are getting in and out without a trace.”

  “Maybe it’s a miracle?”

  David didn’t take the bait.

  Tom patted him on the shoulder. “Have a good one, and nice playing tonight. I hope the evening was a good one for you.”

  “It was good,” David said
and started walking towards Beacon Street.

  Tom’s voice drifted to him: “And think about the coaching too. You would be a great teacher.”

  Chapter 25

  When Tom got back to the rectory, he took a shower, relaxed, and attended to the readings for the morning. The house was quiet as he got ready for sleep and left the side door open for Luke, in case he was staying that night. At some point in the night, he heard Luke coming in, but he also thought he heard whispering as well. When there was more movement than one person would make, Tom got up and gave a gentle rap on the guestroom door. Luke cracked opened the door. “Hey, Tom. I hope you don’t mind if I stay here tonight.”

  Tom said, “You know I don’t mind at all.”

  Luke said, “Thanks. I really appreciate it. Sleep well,” and closed the door until it hit Tom’s foot that had slid into place to keep the door open.

  Tom whispered, “Like I said, I don’t mind your staying but—” and he opened the door to see a girl sitting on a comforter on the floor. “Hello, Miss. I’m Luke’s brother, Tom, and unfortunately, the nasty landlord.”

  “It isn’t what it looks like,” Luke said. “This is Gabby, and she just needs a place to stay for tonight.”

  The girl glanced up at Tom, her huge brown eyes brimming with tears she was desperately trying to hold back. “Hi. I hope I’m not imposing.”

  “I don’t want to put you out on the street on a cold night, but unfortunately you cannot stay here with Luke, nor is a young woman leaving a priest’s residence early in the morning a great idea either.”

  Luke stepped closer. “She really needs a place to stay, and we weren’t sleeping together.”

  “I think you meant that you were only sleeping together. Gabby, if you really have nowhere to go, I can see if you can stay with Sister Helen tonight.”

  Luke rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t want to become a nun.”

  Tom ignored the comment and waved the two of them toward the door. Sister Helen lived with several of the other sisters just a block away from the school in a portion of the old convent that had been subdivided into affordable housing for poorer families. Two of the sisters also taught at St. Anthony’s School, others worked at the local hospital, and one at a pregnancy crisis center. Tom got dressed and walked Gabby and Luke down to the sisters’ house, tapping lightly on the door. While most of the sisters were early to bed, he knew Sister Helen was a night owl and seemed to maintain high energy on only five hours of sleep a night. He knocked gently again and could see the hall light come on through the window. When Sister Helen saw Father Tom’s face, she rolled her eyes and opened the door. “So, what in heaven brings a group like you to my door in the middle of the night? Come in before you catch your death.”