Anastasia's Grail

by Mary Pearson

but sometimes I like his ideas.”

  Stacy awoke early the next morning and baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies for Darius. She hoped her peace offering would smooth things over. While the cookies were baking she pulled out the books Father Joseph had lent her. One was called A Case For Authenticity, by Fr. Vittorio Guerrera. The other was thicker and had a lot of glossy photos. Written by Frank Tribbe, it was called Portrait of Jesus?. In this one particularly she found the mother lode of historical data, including whole sections which alluded to the Shroud as the Holy Grail, attributing much of this line of thought to the work of Daniel Scavone. Excitement did not half cover her feelings about this jackpot of useful data. She began to read voraciously. Her mother had to forcibly drag her to the car when it was time to go to school. She and Emily rode together in the mornings, but Emily’s school got out an hour earlier than Stacy’s. Stacy always teased her sister that she was more educated because she put in more hours, even though Emily attended a private Catholic school, while Stacy attended the regular public school—by choice. Stacy had not been interested in going with Emily when her mother asked them three years ago.

  “Check this out.” Stacy showed her sister a picture of Jesus Pantocrator that was identical to the mosaic that was displayed on the domed front ceiling of Holy Apostles. There had been major renovations to the old Cathedral three years ago and the stylistic representation had been much criticized by older parishioners. Little did they know how ancient the Pantocrator icon was—it had been copied off of the Shroud of Turin anywhere from the fifth to thirteenth century, and was Eastern in style, which suggested it may first have been painted while the Shroud was in Constantinople (before the twelfth century). The Shroud was taken as spoils of war during the fourth crusade. After that it had belonged to the House of Savoy and ultimately, to the Vatican. Stacy had no idea her church had chosen a replica of the Shroud as their main representation of Christ.

  “Apology accepted.” Darius was still munching one of the cookies Stacy had sent him as he sat down that morning. “How about a rain check on coming to my house. We can make it tonight.”

  “How about you come to my house instead,” Stacy hastily suggested. She wanted to avoid a near occasion of misbehavior. She knew there would at least be people coming in and out of her house all evening, making it less likely they would get into trouble. This was her real reason. To Darius, she explained, “I want you to meet my family.”

  Darius looked annoyed, but agreed anyway. It was decided he would come after they finished up at the bread shop.

  “This is Darius,” Stacy introduced him to everyone who hadn’t been there when he had picked her up for the winter formal dance. Zeke pumped his hand enthusiastically. “I like a man who wears black.” Darius was wearing a black sweater over jeans that evening. “It’s very 007.”

  Arthur just nodded with no hint of a smile. Uncle George lowered his glasses to peer at him over the top of them. He walked up and looked Darius full in the face. Then he backed off three paces and extended his hand. “Do you have a job?” George asked him.

  Stacy was mortified, but Darius smoothly nodded. “I front for local talent,” he told Stacy’s uncle.

  George tilted his head. “What does that mean?”

  “For example, rock bands. There are a number of amateur ones in this area,” he patiently explained. “I find the gigs that they need and act as a go-between.”

  “And you take a cut,” Stacy’s uncle clarified.

  “Of course,” Darius’ gaze shifted a bit, “it’s only temporary. Ultimately I hope to become a politician. I hand out political tracts and such during election time to try to get my foot in the door.” Darius put an arm around Stacy. “Of course it never hurts to be associated with the right people if you want to get ahead.” Stacy wondered when she had become ‘the right people’.

  “Hi, Darius!” This was Reecie.

  “You do remember my little sister, Clarice?” Stacy hoisted her up on one hip so that Darius could shake her hand.

  “We never properly met.” He gave Reecie his hand.

  “High five!” said Reecie, and smacked it instead. Darius smiled.

  “Let’s go across the street and get something to eat.” Stacy grabbed his arm. “I’m hungry.” Darius waved politely to the others and went with her, Reecie still in tow.

  After they had eaten a pepperoni protein bread pizza and mozzarella sticks that Stacy made in the little convection oven, she, Darius and Reecie, who seemed to be enamored of him, settled in on the living room couch for an evening of TV. Anytime Stacy would try to sidle closer to Darius, Reecie would impose herself between them. If it hadn’t been annoying, it would have been funny. At any rate, it accomplished Stacy’s goal of keeping herself from doing anything that went against her new moral code.

  “Doesn’t she ever go to bed?” Darius asked with exasperation.

  “Reecie still sleeps with my mom,” Stacy told him. “She’ll probably take her to bed after the rosary, which is where they all are now.”

  “What’s that?”

  Stacy looked at Darius and sighed. They were so very different. “Evening prayers that my family says together.”

  Darius seemed mildly alarmed. “Are you guys some kind of a cult?” he asked her.

  Stacy laughed, but then shrugged. “We do take our faith seriously, if that’s what you mean. I plan to raise my children Catholic.” She gave him an appraising glance. “You know, the family that prays together, stays together.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Darius said this with distaste. “Well, don’t expect me to get all caught up in that religious nonsense.”

  Stacy’s eyes couldn’t help reflecting her disappointment.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he hastily amended. “I know it’s got its place. Children who are raised with religion,” his words seemed to imply any religion, “do tend to become better individuals—more disciplined. I just don’t appreciate all of this morals crap coming between you and me, if you know what I mean. Really, what business is it of your church what you and I do when we’re alone together. They shouldn’t be able to say this is wrong—that’s OK.” Darius’ tone was exasperated. “Your church is far too anti-sex for me.”

  “That’s funny,” Stacy said.

  “I don’t think so.” Darius did not appear amused.

  “Not that,” she said. “In school today, Mr. Hershel said it was the Catholic church’s promotion of rampant and unbridled sexuality that caused the population explosion.”

  “See what I’m saying…?” Darius didn’t seem to realize he was disagreeing with himself. “The church has no business saying anything about sex. It’s far too out of touch.”

  Stacy gave up trying to talk to him about it. They were simply not on the same page. In fact Darius grew tired of Reecie fawning on him and excused himself. By the time her mother and Emily got back from the rosary, Darius had already left.

  After her mother and sisters had gone to bed Stacy sat on the couch. She couldn’t sleep. She felt the need to talk to someone, so she went across the street to see if the guys were still there. She found Zeke and Arthur in the work out room. Zeke was on the treadmill and Arthur was bench pressing what looked to be a couple of hundred pounds. Stacy sat cross-legged on the floor by the bench.

  “Where’s your boyfriend?” Arthur exhaled as he lifted.

  “He went home. We were kind of arguing.”

  Amid grunts Arthur kept up his side of the conversation. “What about?”

  “Religion.” Stacy put her chin in her hands. She couldn’t help feeling glum. “It seems like everyone is mad about something having to do with Catholicism, but nobody can agree on what to be mad about.”

  “What do you mean?” followed Arthur’s whoosh of expelled breath.

  “Well, Libby says the Church is war-mongering, but Chad says it’s too meek and pacifist. Ms. Felch says the Church is the enemy of women, forcing them to continual childbearing and subordinate positions, but Cla
ncy says the Church was invented for women and no self-respecting man would have anything to do with it. Frank says the Church is too austere, with its fasting and sackcloth, Libby says it’s extremely opulent, with its vestments and art treasures. Now tonight, Darius says the Church is anti-sex and controlling personal freedom,” Stacy noted that Arthur raised a brow,”but Mr. Hersh says the Church promotes unbridled sex and is the reason for the population explosion. For Gosh sakes, who’s right?” She felt as if her head were going to explode.

  Arthur placed the weight in its bracket and sat up. “Let’s go to the chapel where we can talk.”

  After they were comfortably situated on a cushioned pew, Arthur took a swig of ice water. “Have you ever heard of G.K. Chesterton?”

  Stacy shook her head, so he continued. “He lived around the turn of last century and was well-known for his common sense. He was actually a newspaper reporter, but he could have been a professional debater. At first he wanted nothing to do with Christianity, but as he attempted to go against the flow of unoriginal thought, his radical positions led him right back to orthodoxy. He wrote many books, but the one called Orthodoxy has become known as a classic of common sense. He deals with your question in this book.”

  “Which one?”

  “Pretty much all of them. Basically what he says is it depends on your vantage point. For example, if a fat man were to see someone who is