The Queen's Companion

by Maggi Petton

  “The interpretation has Jesus telling us that his parable about allowing weeds and wheat to grow together is really about the end of the age, when angels will come and reap the final harvest, burning up all the wicked people, and rewarding the righteous in heaven.” †

  Catherine could not help but smile as she waited to hear how Father Tim’s sermon would compare to the bishop’s. She found herself wishing Sofia could hear it, too.

  “This part was written during an extremely polarized and dangerous time. By 70 or 80 AD, the Romans had destroyed Jerusalem and scattered both Jews and Christians around the Mediterranean and Middle East. It was also during the beginning of violent persecutions against Christians. †

  “It was, for the audience of Matthew’s gospel, the end of the world. They expected Jesus to come back in their lifetime and deal with this horrifying violence, to get rid of those evil people who wiped Israel off the map and those who were destroying their Christian communities.

  “They also expected Jesus to protect and lift up the persecuted faithful who were only trying to follow the gospel, and make them shine like the sun in heaven. It is an understandable hope.” †

  Bella reached out both of her hands, one to either side of her, to hold James’s and Catherine’s hands. Catherine recognized this small act as Bella’s way of saying, “Listen, my two loves, this is important.” Catherine squeezed Bella’s hand.

  Father Timothy walked slowly back and forth as he continued. “But what did Jesus mean when he originally told this parable? Taken by itself, it doesn’t necessarily point to an end time when God would separate people into evil and good, burning the former and rewarding the latter.

  “The parable is a simple farming metaphor. Jesus tells us to allow weeds to grow alongside wheat. The workers are instructed to avoid trampling through the tender shoots, ripping out what they thought were weeds, destroying the good grain in their zeal. No, let the weeds and wheat grow together until harvest time, when you can really tell the difference between them.†

  “Told at a time before all the violence against Christians and Jews, this story seems to be about our tendency to judge one another, and to judge parts of ourselves we don’t like. It is about the difficulty of sorting out good from bad, and how if we try to do this too vigorously, we’ll destroy whatever good is there, too. Instead, we are to accept both the shadow and light within ourselves, and refrain from judging others as well, letting God sort these things out. †

  “In our lifetime there are those of us who want to trample through the fields, furiously ripping out the weeds among the wheat.”† Tim paused and looked around. He smiled as he made eye contact with each person present before he continued.

  “But who is weed…and who is wheat? We all have the tendency to see ourselves as the wheat. How wonderful life would be if we could only get rid of those nasty weeds? Are those who cry the loudest, who run around arresting ‘witches’ and ‘heretics’ the weeds? Is their fear of evil any different than ours?

  “The fact is that what we think is evil may reside within ourselves. The danger is in thinking that if I can eliminate the evil in the world around me, perhaps I will not be tormented by it within me anymore. Ah, but it is not so simple.”

  Tim watched as some of his visitors shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Their faces reflected disappointment and even anger as he spoke. He knew that these were good men, devoted to fighting the wrongs of the Church, but he also knew that in spite of this, and because of it, it was important to push them to examine their thoughts and actions in the matter.

  “As we live alongside others who are very different from us we come up against our own fears, our own prejudices. We make judgments about others by the way they dress, by the language they use about religion or politics or heresy, and we shift them from the category of ‘wheat’ to ‘weeds’. †

  “But if we are willing to look closely at ourselves, we shed light on our shadow parts…those ‘weeds’ within each of us. We must offer God an opportunity to heal us. The way this healing happens, however, is not by ripping out our nasty weeds, but by transforming them into something healthy and good.” †

  Tim was winding down.

  “Perhaps you are ashamed of something you desire. Perhaps the anger you try to hold at bay is a thirst for things to be set right. Perhaps your perceived lack of faith is a call to leave behind simplistic answers and travel bravely into the mysteries and paradoxes of the spiritual life.” †

  Catherine looked up. Her head had bowed as she listened to Tim. But as he spoke this last sentence, she felt certain he was looking and speaking directly to her. He was on the other side of the aisle, however, and looking out at some of the other visitors.

  “Jesus advises us to let our weeds and wheat grow up together, until it becomes obvious what they are, when the Spirit will work with us, to transform us. Our inner weeds may turn out to be wheat, after all, and what we thought was good grain God may eventually reveal to be nothing but thorny weeds. †

  “That, I believe, is what Christ wanted for the church. In the end, the vision of heaven is not a population that has been cleansed of all evildoers, and our own redemption is not us with big parts missing. Instead, heaven is a community whose members have finally found their true purpose, with all of their traits made useful, and each one of us happy that everyone there has a part to play in God’s kingdom. † Amen.”

  The discomfort caused by Tim’s sermon was reflected in the gathering following Mass. At first the tone was subdued, each member afraid to condemn the likes of Inquisitors or the failings of the Church.

  As they gathered around the table in Father Tim’s home, Catherine sensed the distress and moved to acknowledge it. “I didn’t like to hear, Father, that my own sense of righteousness might actually be fear of my own evil!” she laughed. “You are either very brave, or have shifted your alliance to stand with the Pope and the Grand Inquisitor,” she announced when the entire group settled.

  Tim laughed. “Not at all, Your Majesty. I only speak to what I have had to examine in myself. My own righteousness regarding the papacy and the persecutors of the innocent is both my shadow and light.” He prayed over the food and wine, and indicated for all to help themselves.

  “You mean,” Bella chimed, “that unless we are willing to see all sides of ourselves, both good and bad, we are in danger of becoming more like those we see as all evil?”

  “Precisely, Lady Isabella,” Tim agreed. “It is in our nature to create our monsters outside of us. In that way we can feel good about slaying wickedness and evil without implicating ourselves.”

  One of the visitors, a man named Vincenzo, said, “But it sounded like you were defending the persecutors of the innocent.”

  “No, Vincenzo,” Tim replied. “I would never defend the actions my Church has taken against its body. I only believe that we must be aware of the good and bad in ourselves. Without acknowledging that the persecutors of the Church may have some good in them that can be redeemed, we condemn our own wickedness without first acknowledging that we, too, are sinners.

  “The kind of spiritual battle in which we find ourselves is a wrestling match. We need to examine the ways in which we enter these battles. What kind of victory do we hope for?” †

  Vincenzo looked at Father Tim, his confusion evident on his face. “We hope to stop the atrocities of the Inquisition. Is that not the aim?”

  “That is the ultimate goal, yes,” Father Tim acknowledged. “But how do we accomplish this task? While I do not agree with those who persecute and condemn and torture others for their perceived heretical beliefs, I don’t want to demonize and dominate the persecutors, to cast them out. I want to be in relationship with them, and hope that through this relationship we can find ways to be together, find ways to see the light in one another – and accept the darkness that lives in each of us, as well.” †

  “Why,” asked Stephan, who had been quiet until then, “would I want to accept someone else�
��s darkness? If I am a true follower of Christ, is He not all light? Do I not walk in His light? Is He not the light itself? There is no darkness in Christ.”

  “Really?” Father Tim responded, his eyebrows arched in question. Then he smiled and continued. “As I read the gospels and spend time reflecting on the life of Christ, what speaks to me the most is his own struggle with the light and dark within him. Yes, the light of Christ is what we know wins the spiritual battle, but it seems that he had his share of darkness with which to contend…as do we all.” †

  “How do you deal with your own dark thoughts, then?” Vincenzo asked.

  Father Tim had just taken a bite of bread. He chewed slowly and took a sip of wine before he answered. “Years ago, I realized that every time I thought I had put my anger, my fear and resentments to rest, they found new ways to plague me. They found new ways to reveal their faces again and again. Eventually, I shifted my spirituality from trying to walk only as a child of light, with no darkness at all, to a spirituality of light and dark. Sitting in silence, as my inner demons revealed themselves, I let them be, feeling them, seeing them as they were, without any attempt to judge or rid myself of them.” †

  Bella was pouring wine from a carafe into Stephan’s cup. She stopped and looked at Father Tim and interrupted him. “That must have taken an enormous amount of courage.”

  Father Tim smiled at her and nodded. “At first, yes, it did. But I soon found that as I befriended these thoughts, as they came out into the open, they lost some of their power. The problem with splitting off things we don’t like about ourselves is that they only grow more powerful when they are forced into hiding. Out in the open they can be put in perspective, and we can even find a gift in each one of them, something that, I hope, contributes to our becoming whole.” †

  “Father,” Vincenzo stopped him, “forgive my interruption, but I am still unclear on some of what you are saying. I think I understand what you mean by demonizing others. That clearly goes against what Christ taught us about loving our enemies. But, I don’t quite grasp the part about accepting anyone’s darkness…my own included. I am in this underground movement to fight for justice, not accept others’ evils.”

  “Vincenzo,” Father Tim looked at him and nodded, “you should stand firm in your convictions and fight for what you believe is right. But remember, we are, all of us, members of God’s family. God will ultimately be victorious. Good will win in the end. Our security does not have to fearfully depend on us, or upon how much fragile progress we can make in our Church, our kingdoms…our souls. Our security is rooted in the eternal goodness of God, who loves us completely – our darkness and our light – and loves our enemies in their darkness and light, as well. So, even as we contend with the evils of the Inquisition, or the evils within our own souls, we have a safe place in which these struggles occur. We live in God.” †

  Father Tim looked around and realized that his sermon had continued. All eyes were riveted on him. “I feel as if I am still preaching. That was not my intent,” he said sheepishly.

  Stephan laughed and said, “I don’t think that is a bad thing. You are making me think about things I have never before thought about. But, I still don’t understand about giving my darkness a place to exist.”

  “Let me tell you a story that may help.” Father Tim sat back and reflected for a moment before continuing. “Years ago, when I was a very young priest, I served in a small town where a very pious and devout family lived. The father was a pillar of the community, very religious. He had several children, but only one daughter, who was quite beautiful. The father became very involved with a local group who had taken up the cause of fighting heresy. In particular, the focus of the group was to target women whom they believed to be witches.” Father Tim got up from his seat and walked around the table toward a window. He looked out for a bit before he continued.

  “As you have already learned in your endeavors to right the terrible wrongs of the Inquisition, the women were not witches. Many of the men were unable to reconcile their carnal lusts to their wayward beliefs that such reactions to women were sinful. So they made witches of the women, blaming them for what they, themselves did not wish to see.”

  Tim turned toward the group and walked to the table where everyone sat. “You all know what happened then. They tortured women to get them to admit that they were responsible for inciting their sexual responses. They tried to rid themselves of what they perceived as evil, by blaming it all as something outside of themselves. They thought that if they could just rid themselves of the cause of the ‘evil’ being done to them, all would be well. And they did so by justifying their actions as God’s will.”

  “I have seen more of that than I care to remember,” said Antony, who had been quiet until that moment. He spoke so softly that it was difficult to hear him. His head hung down and shook slowly back and forth.

  Stephan reached over and patted Antony on the shoulder.

  Father Tim sat back down at the table.

  “What happened?” asked Vincenzo.

  “Eventually, his daughter became the group’s focus. Because she was beautiful, it was inevitable. She was as sweet as any girl I have known, but her beauty made her vulnerable to the uncontrolled lusts of the men. In spite of her father’s protests, the group tortured her until she admitted that she used spells to arouse them.”

  “Did they murder her?” Bella asked.

  “No.” Father Tim said quietly. “But they disfigured her horribly. Her father could not live with the knowledge that he had participated in the very same activities with other women. He knew his daughter was good, and pure, and not a witch. His shame was more than he could bear. He tried, unsuccessfully, to make the group understand that perhaps they were misguided. They turned on him and burned him for heresy.

  “It is imperative that we examine our motives and actions within ourselves. If we don’t, we risk the danger of becoming like those whose very actions we despise. We must fight the battles within ourselves before we fight the battles outside of us.”

  He stood again, “We live in God,” he repeated. “That is our safe place to do battle. That is the only thing upon which we can truly depend – not a new pope, or new government leaders, not a perfected self or an enlightened Church. Our only place of ultimate safety is in God. Know that the outcome of the war has already been won, and it takes place in heaven itself. Take your battles seriously, but not too seriously. For we live in God, and all shall be well.” †

  On the ride home James was the first to speak. “I felt as if Father Tim were speaking directly to me--not about the witch stuff, but everything else. He really makes me think about my anger toward people I don’t like.”

  Robert laughed, “I don’t see how that’s possible, since it was obviously me to whom he referred.”

  “Father Tim,” Bella announced, “has the uncanny ability to speak to a multitude of listeners and cause each one to believe that they are the only one to whom he speaks.”

  Catherine remained quiet the entire ride home.

  Chapter Forty Six

  June 1568

  “Why?” Sofia asked James as they wandered through the outer courtyard. “Why must you go to Castiglione d’ Orcia?”

  “I suppose I don’t have to go,” James shrugged. “But I enjoy going. I like the change of scenery. I like spending time with your cousin, Robert. He is teaching me the art of swordsmanship. Did I tell you?”

  “Only a thousand times!” she laughed. “What about Father Tim?”

  “What about him? I like him.” James bent over to pick up a long stick on the ground. “This will make a great walking stick. I think I’ll carve some designs in it for my mother!”

  Sofia was not about to be distracted. “What is it about him that you like?”

  James was already creating designs for the stick in his head. “About whom?” he asked.

  “About Father Tim!” Sofia sometimes found it exasperating to carry on a conversation
with James. His thirteen year old mind wandered so quickly from one thing to another that she often found herself having to work to keep him on a topic.

  “Oh.” James shrugged again. “I don’t know. He is so kind. I like his face, too.”

  “Apart from his face,” Sofia pressed, “what do you think about his philosophy?”

  “What do you mean?” James held up the piece of wood in the air in front of him and it became a sword.

  “His beliefs are not shared by the Church. You do realize,” she stopped and turned to him so that he was forced to lower his ‘sword’ and face her, “that he openly defies everything that the Church is working to establish?”

  “What are you talking about?” he said.

  Sofia knew he really didn’t understand what she was talking about. She had to take a breath. Her studies with the bishop really helped her to understand these matters. Sometimes she was still infuriated with her parents for not allowing James to study with her and the bishop. “Father Tim is a heretic.” She finally stated. “The only reason that he hasn’t been arrested and tried is that my mother protects him.”

  James stopped and looked at her aghast. “From what?” James expressed his concern.

  “From the Church. From the Bishop.” She offered impatiently.

  James looked at her. “How do you know this?”

  “I know.” She looked at James and there were tears in her eyes. “James, please don’t go there anymore. Please.”

  “Sofi,” he dropped the stick, “what is it?”

  “Do you promise not to tell?” she asked.

  “Come here,” he pulled her over to a secluded bench partially hidden under a trumpet vine. They sat and he reached for her hands. “Tell me.”

  “You must promise to say nothing!”

  “I promise,” he said softly.

  “I’m worried you are in danger of going to hell. I know that the things that Father Tim talks about are against the Holy Church. He is a heretic and he is turning all of you into heretics, as well! I am afraid for you. Please promise me that you will stop going to Castiglione d’ Orcia,” she pleaded as she threw her arms around him and buried her head in his neck.