by J A Bouma
Father Jim closed his Bible and paused, scanning the cavernous room, allowing this ancient apostle’s weighty words to hang free and clear.
“I am afraid, dear friends, that history is repeating itself this dark hour. And it is time that we all take our stand amongst the faith-keepers from centuries past to contend for the once-for-all faith that Christ himself has entrusted to his people. For the sake of our people, the Church, and Christ our Lord.”
The room Amened in unison.
“A few centuries ago,” Father continued, “the Church of Jesus Christ was assaulted by the specter of modernity, the demonic forces of the so-called Age of Reason had dawned. It was an era of revolt against authority, giving rise to individual autonomy and reason by crowning the individual rational man with the primary authority to decide what to believe and how to behave. The Enlightenment, as it was called, led to a feeling of optimistic progress, in which the idealized hope for transforming this world became the end goal of modern humanity. Except that hope was not rooted in God, but in man.
“The opening phrase of Genesis 1 ‘In the beginning God’ was replaced by wild abandon with ‘In the beginning Man.’ Man was thought to be capable of providing himself with whatever knowledge of nature, morality, and religion was necessary for his goodness and the goodness of society. In due course, the Church and orthodox Christian beliefs in Europa were pushed to the periphery of intellectual and social life, because the credibility and necessity for such supernaturally inspired doctrines were confronted by rational, anti-dogmatic modes of thought.
“This age was the dawn of what would become known as Christian liberalism, a scourge on the Church if there ever was one. These apostates of Ichthus conceived of our human problem relating to our failure as individuals, and collectively as humans, to live up to our greatest human potential, an ideal common spirit of brotherly love. Sin was viewed as social and environmental, rather than an inherited nature and guilt—a view which, might I add, stole a page from the playbook of the condemned heretic Pelagius from the ancient Church. They believed this impairment of the universal human ideal was a historical phenomenon that demanded a historical solution. They contended this solution came in the historic person of Jesus of Nazareth.
“Jesus of Nazareth, the person who bore the solution to our problem, was not considered God, but merely divine because of how he lived out the universal human ideal of love. They insisted the significance of Jesus’ work was his life, rather than his atoning death on the cross. This made sense, of course, because they argued the solution to our human problem was found in the kingdom of God, a utopian society founded by Jesus—rather than him dying for our sins in order to transform our hearts. His death was considered important only to the extent it was the climax of his life of love. And the kingdom of God was viewed as the means by which humanity was saved—humanity was beckoned to place their faith in this way of Jesus rather than Jesus’ person and work.
“In the end, the gospel of liberalism was that the kingdom of God, the universal human ideal and essence of human existence, had come near in the life of Jesus. People were called to live their best life now by turning from the destructive stories and dysfunctional systems of this world and turning toward everyday acts of brotherly love.”
Father Jim took a breath and scanned the room. People shifted in their chairs, trying to pay attention to his impromptu sermon.
“Now why the lecture, you ask? Because every generation since Friedrich Schleiermacher, the grandfather—or should I say, godfather—of liberalism, put pen to paper to make the Christian faith more palatable to the modern world, false teachers within Ichthus have been making the same mistakes ever since. The Prosurgent movement did it through their books reimagining the Christian faith for postmodernity back at the dawn of the 21st century. And now the phoenix is rising once again out of the smoldering ashes of liberalism to transform the Christian faith into something entirely different—though its actors are all too familiar.
“Bishop Apollos Nicolai, Cardinal Dominic Weiss, Father Marcus Bohls are asking the same questions for this ultramodern day as those people asked in their postmodern and modern days. Whether first-century religion can ever stand in company with eighteenth century or twenty-first century or twenty-second century science and culture. At least these new innovators are doing in practice what those ancient liberals were doing in theory: abandoning the Christian faith in favor of something entirely different. By relinquishing everything distinctive about Christianity to the science and culture and religions of the day, these Christian despisers, as I call them, have actually created a religion in a distinct category from the Christian faith itself.
“Modern liberalism and its postmodern cousin were entirely different religions from Christianity. And the movement by our ultramodern Christian brothers and sisters is to do what they should have done in their day—abandon Ichthus entirely in favor of a trans-Christian religious affiliation. I’m just glad they’re doing what modern and postmodern Christians didn’t have the guts or gumption to do themselves! But this requires decisive action by the Fidelium, the keepers and contenders of the faith—”
“I’m sorry, Cardinal Ferraro,” a voice called out, interrupting Father Jim’s monologue.
“Yes?” he said, eyeing the crowd of ecclesial leaders for the interrupting voice. “Bishop LeBlanc.”
“I’m sorry, but I have an inquiry.” The room pivoted toward Albert LeBlanc of the Francia province of former Europe, who was rising from his seat. He was one of the more reliably orthodox voices in Europa, but still a loose cannon at times. When he spoke, people waited for what would transpire.
“I appreciate your impassioned tour through historical theology, Cardinal Ferraro. As enlightening and engaging as it has been, I wonder, however: What’s the point?”
A few others around the room nodded in agreement. Others murmured in surprise at his confrontational tone.
He continued, “What I mean to say is, what is the problem, really? There have been dissenting voices throughout the Church’s history. Some of those voices have even reformed the Church. I have in mind my own people’s patron saint, John Calvin, the great seventeenth-century Reformer. Perhaps Cardinal Weiss and Father Nicolai are cut from the same cloth.”
While not an outright challenge, Bishop LeBlanc’s pushback gave that effect, reverberating through the hall and soliciting a wave of whispers.
Father Jim leaned against his podium, pursed his lips, and pressed his fingertips together as he contemplated a response.
He said, “Thank you for your inquiry, Father LeBlanc. I appreciate your opening a dialogue about the subject, because that is the reason we are gathered. So what is the problem? Consider the most sacred of the Church’s creeds, the one forged out of the soil under which we now sit. We recite it every day and lead our people into reciting it:
“I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible,” Father Jim bellowed.
“And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all worlds; God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God; begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father, by whom all things were made.”
A few voices began joining Father Jim as he recited the Nicene Creed, which had anchored the Church for nearly two millennia.
“Who, for us men for our salvation, came down from heaven, and was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the virgin Mary, and was made man; and was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate; He suffered and was buried; and the third day He rose again, according to the Scriptures; and ascended into heaven, and sits on the right hand of the Father; and He shall come again, with glory, to judge the quick and the dead; whose kingdom shall have no end.”
By now the entire chamber was reciting the creed from memory, filling the hall with a unified affirmation of Ichthus’s central, guiding orthodoxy and identity. Even Bishop LeBlanc had joined the chorus.
“And I believe in the Holy Ghost, the Lord and Giver of Life; who proceeds from the Father and the Son; who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and glorified; who spoke by the prophets.
“And I believe one holy catholic and apostolic Church. I acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins; and I look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Amen.”
“Amen,” Father Jim repeated. “This is why Cardinal Weiss’s and Father Nicolai’s maneuvering is so dastardly. They are denying historic Christian belief in the oneness of God, as well as his threeness! The one true God has been reduced to a vanilla pan-deity, an amalgamation of the world’s false gods. A shape-shifting chameleon that ultimately denies the deity of our Lord and Savior himself.”
Several in the room nodded and Amened in approval. Alexander found himself at once agreeing with Father Jim and yet uneasy. The memory of his father’s own experience with the Fidelium still simmered in his heart.
“And where they affirm the oneness of God,” Father Jim continued, “they claim that God the Father has sent the Son and Spirit on different saving missions through the various world religions, as if there is complete harmony between Buddha and Jesus, between Mohammed and the Son of God, between Krishna and Christ, between the ancient anima spirits with the Holy Spirit. There isn’t!”
“Alright, Cardinal Ferraro, I see your point,” Bishop LeBlanc interrupted. “But what do we do about it? What are the consequences we dole out? Keeping in mind, the gravest consequences from the past have included drownings and stake burnings. Surely, you’re not proposing that course of action, are you?”
Father Jim laughed, sweeping the chamber with a large, toothy grin. “Well, that’d sure be the easiest route!” Others joined him in laughter.
Alexander winced at the cavalier suggestion, given his father’s own experience with the Ministerium for precisely the same reasons. He understood the impulse to defend the teachings of the faith, but at what personal expense?
“Seriously, James,” Father Kojo said, joining in the discussion. “Father LeBlanc is right. What should we do? What can we do?”
“It seems they have made the choice themselves,” Mama Mara added. “They’ve announced to the world they’ve left the Church.”
“No, they announced to the world they’ve dismantled the Church!” exclaimed Mother Kayo.
“Which they can’t do!” Mama Mara replied.
“But does the world know that?” Alexander added.
The room turned toward him, unprepared for such a young voice adding to the mostly older chorus of debate.
“Father Zarruq is right,” Mother Kayo said. “As far as the world is concerned, they’ve just witnessed major Christian representatives joining with the leaders of the other major religious faiths to disassemble Christianity in favor of a one world religious entity. That cannot go unanswered!”
Passions were beginning to run high as the great hall alighted with the perspectives of Christ’s global Church leaders.
“I don’t mean to press the question, brothers and sisters,” Father Kojo interrupted, “but Father LeBlanc is right. What can we do, really?”
“Well, we aren’t a group of impotent eunuchs, Brother Kojo!” Father Jim said unexpectedly. “We can do what Ichthus has always done to false teachers. Anathematize and excommunicate.”
Several gasps ricocheted around the chamber, others grimaced at the suggestion. Alexander himself recoiled at the mention of the words, finding it difficult to alienate people in such extreme measures. His heart leapt forward, his breath grew shallow at the memory of what his own father had endured—and the tragic outcome.
Father LeBlanc recoiled as well. “Anathematize and excommunicate? Seems to be the default answer for you, doesn’t it?”
A few laughed at his insinuation. A few more nodded, wary of taking such drastic actions against such powerful people.
Father Jim grinned and bowed his head. “It is not my default. Only a viable possibility. And why not? In essence, they’ve denied Christ anyway. Just as it is impossible to have the Church without Christ, so can you not have Christ without the Church—no matter how much you insist you are following Jesus or following in his way. You reject Ichthus and you are rejecting Christ. It’s that simple. And considering what the false teachers of the faith are proposing in terms of doctrine, swift, decisive action on the part of the Fidelium will show the world they do not speak for the Church.” The cardinal leaned forward and said with purpose: “We do! It will also send a message to the worldwide Ichthus body in the same way generations past who dealt with heresies instructed the Church.”
“Fine, Father Jim,” Father LeBlanc said, interrupting again. “So we approve a writ of anathema and excommunicate them from the Church of Jesus Christ, stripping them of their ecclesial power and property and pray God’s mercy upon their souls. So what? What does that accomplish when they’ve left on their own accord, anyway?”
“What Cardinal Ferraro is proposing, Albert, is well within the rights of the Order Chair,” Mother Kayo retorted. “What he is suggesting is not wild. It’s well within the rights of the Fidelium.”
“I am not questioning whether it is possible, Kimura Kayo,” Father LeBlanc said, omitting her title as she did his in response to her own slight. “I am questioning whether it is prudent.”
“It is prudent, and he’s explained why,” Mother Kimura responded curtly. “We must show the world, as well as the worldwide Body of Christ, that the Church lives on. We must also expose them for what they are—false teachers. Not merely for the sake of heresy hunting, but for the sake of the unity of Ichthus and the preservation of our people.”
Silence spread as Father LeBlanc retreated, taking his seat in a heavy, huffing slump.
As he did, Father Kojo spoke. “While I agree with both, Mother Kayo and Cardinal Ferraro, that we need to make a show of ecclesial authority and expose these brothers and sisters as false teachers, it seems we must do more than merely swing the battle ax.”
“What do you mean, Brother Kojo?” Father Jim asked.
“How are we to address their false teaching? How are we to contend for the one, true, historic Christian faith? How are we to preserve the next generation of believers who are a breath away from extinction? How are we to counter the persecution of our churches, not only for the faith they believe but the countercultural rituals and behaviors they practice? Or what about all the thorny questions of this life of ours—the ones about justice and equity, or how it looks to live a life of meaning and purpose on the other side of the Reckoning in Solterra, or who we are as humans in the face of so much technological and social change? Disassociation from Ichthus and assembly with Panligo is only the beginning. Surely you must know that, Cardinal Ferraro. Therefore, excommunication cannot be our only response. It is but a bandage over an infected, gaping wound that has been festering for centuries and is now spreading its pandemic far and wide.”
“He’s right, Padre…err Cardinal Ferraro.” Alexander blushed at using Father Jim’s nickname. He continued, “So we kick them out. Fine. But how do we address the needs of my generation who are losing their grip on understanding what has always been central to the Christian faith? Father Nicolai and Cardinal Weiss are offering an alternative to that faith that seems awfully attractive to our ultramodern culture. I share Father Kojo’s concern that we’re not actually addressing the real issue of the matter.”
“Thank you for your thoughtful concern. I agree, Father Kojo and Father Zarruq. Which is why—”
A heavy thump outside the chamber cut Father Jim short.
Several muffled voices rose in intensity beyond the heavy wooden doors that sealed the chamber, as if a crowd were being thwarted entrance.
The cardinal looked at Mother Kayo who looked at Mama Mara.
Alexander looked at Father Jim in confusion as the voices continued vying for a way into the chamber
Voices that sounded alarmingly familiar.
Chapter 9
The doors of heavy wood shuddered with purpose, diverting the attention of the conclave from the dais to the sudden turn of events at the back.
Several loud, muffled voices were heard beyond the shuttered doors, followed by another violating shudder.
The gathered Fidelium leaders began to shift in their seats and murmur to one another, wondering who or what had discovered the meeting and was trying to force their way inside.
Without warning, the doors crashed open. A well-appointed Swiss Guard tumbled backwards, the man with the scar Alexander had spotted earlier, paving the way for the intruders to enter at will. Father Jim whitened as those intruders emerged into view.
Striding confidently into the room was Dominic Weiss, the powerful cardinal from Americana with alabaster skin and hair who had also been one of Alexander’s professors at Oxford and a colleague of Father Jim. Trailing him were four other members of the Ministerium Alexander recognized, bishops and priests from the liberal wing of the Church, Protestant Orthodoxy. They stood in contrast to the conservative factions of Catholic Orthodoxy and Evangelical Orthodoxy that dominated the Ichthus sectarian landscape of the worldwide Church post-Reckoning. Making up the rear of the intruding group was Apollos Nicolai. Alexander followed Father Jim’s surprise, reddening with anger.
“Well, well, well,” Cardinal Weiss intoned as he and his compatriots strode into the center of the conclave hall, piercing the room with his ice-blue eyes. “A Fidelium party and no invitation. What a shame. The good Lord knows how much I relish a good Ministerium jamboree.”
His companions laughed, flanking him with forceful solidarity.
Bleach-white teeth gleamed behind a pure-white complexion accented by bleach-white hair. The cardinal stood tall with steely confidence as he stared down Father Jim, waiting for a reply.
