by Gavin Reese
“Just so you shitheads ain’t too surprised later,” John continued, “I’m gonna be your primary instructor for all the combat sports, everything that involves fightin’, shootin,’ and stabbin’. Those skills demand a solid base in faith and philosophical doctrine. Takin’ up a sword on behalf of God or in defense of others ain’t got nothin’ to do with takin’ a few M-M-A classes, buyin’ an undersized black t-shirt, and pickin’ fights all over town for shits and giggles. So, because-a that, I also teach most-a the combat mindset and warrior philosophy classes. Doesn’t always work out, but I do my best.”
John acts like he’s been places and done things, Michael thought, but it’d be nice to know more about the background of the guy that’s gonna try to convince us his methods and mindset will save lives.
“I wanna draw your attention to these two panels, for lack of a better word.” John walked to the large, canvas-covered rectangle that hung from the stalls to Michael’s left. With some flair and a lot of force, John pulled the canvas covers off and dropped them to the concrete floor, which revealed two massive placards. Michael saw the first one, which hung to the left, displayed verses from the Book of Matthew commonly known as “the Beatitudes” in a generic, non-descript font. Visually plain, the beauty’s in the words themselves.
“I know y’all oughta know these by heart and most-a you probably started studyin’ ‘em in grade school,” John explained, “but I’m gonna ‘em read aloud just the same. ‘Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 5:3-10.’”
John stepped aside to allow his trainees to read the other panel. Michael also recognized those verses, and he understood their stark contrast to the Beatitudes. That’s probably why they displayed the Proverbs in a calligraphy font, Michael thought. They beautified the darkness of those verses and dulled the beauty of the Beatitudes. Interesting psychology.
“And, same thing here,” John announced and read the verses aloud. “’A scoundrel and villain, who goes about with a corrupt mouth, who winks with his eye, signals with his feet and motions with his fingers, who plots evil with deceit in his heart—he always stirs up dissension. Therefore disaster will overtake him in an instant; he will suddenly be destroyed—without remedy. There are six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to Him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies and a man who stirs up dissension among brothers. Proverbs 6:12-19.’”
Michael subconsciously shook his head, unsure if John understood the audience before him. I’m pretty sure we’re all ordained priests, and those are two of the most basic and well-known scriptural verses on Earth. It’s like he wants Di Vinci’s thoughts on kindergarten finger paintings.
John ambled away from the signs and returned to the front of the room as he spoke. “It would behoove you to keep those opposing lists in your thoughts and prayers. Just like a lotta things in the coming months, I expect you might understand new meaning in what you thought you already knew.”
A new round of wind gusts picked up outside and whistled through the stable’s gaps. That’s gonna be a constant companion out here, like a damned herpes virus, Michael realized.
“Those opposing verses,” John continued, “are the first thing I wanted to cover with y’all today, the first seed I wanted to plant in your minds. That’s mostly what I’m gonna try to do this mornin,’ is just get the seeds planted for the bumper crop we’re gonna harvest by the end-a this thing.
“The second seed concerns the human spirit and psyche. Saint Thomas Aquinas postulated, damned near eight-hundred years ago, that they were two distinct and separate parts of our being. This is especially relevant whenever we discuss criminal psychology and mental illness. My seed is that, if they are separate, isn’t there surely some interaction and relationship between ‘em, considering they’re both part of the same human being? Therefore, doesn’t infection or trauma to one inherently impact the other?
“Next seed,” John rhetorically pressed onward, “is the possibility of a link between criminal psychology and an evil infection of the spirit. Not talkin’ about narcissism, A-D-H-D, none of those kinda things. Psychopathy. Antisocial personality disorder. Pedophilia. The kinda troubles that end up addin’ the prefix ‘serial’ to people’s rap sheets. There’s gotta be a reason those people can’t be fixed, right? Scientific studies provide mountains of confirmation that only a few, specific mental ailments exist that have never been rehabilitated or remedied. Is it possible, just possible, that evil, once rooted deep in the human spirit, has found a way to infect the human psyche? Could that be why our docs and head-shrinks are so unsuccessful at rehabbing these ailments, if they’re tryin’ to treat the psyche when the problem’s rooted in the spirit? If there is a link between those two, the psyche and the spirit, then the clergy oughta be uniquely prepared and qualified to remedy these specific problems, gentlemen. If that’s the case, whaddayou as priests, and we collectively as the Church, what can we do to address these afflictions that medical science has no answer to?”
Michael tried to anticipate where John was headed. He’s obviously done this before, and it’s kinda like ‘Public Defender 101.’ The first day of law school might be spent on civil torts, but the rest of the time there is spent formulating questions that start with ‘isn’t it possible’ and always demand an affirmative answer.
“Next seed’s a moral quandary. In the course-a your clerical duties, let’s say you hear confession from a serial killer. You know everything. His identity, his home address, the victims and where they’re buried. Let’s up the ante and say you know he’s got a victim tied up in his basement right now, a little nine-year-old girl, and he’s gonna go back home and take her life when he leaves your booth. He admits that he’s basin’ that presumption on the fact that he’s already killed a dozen others in similar fashion, and denies havin’ any self-control to stop from takin’ another victim when he’s done with the last.
“I’m not lookin’ for an answer today, but what do you do? You can’t break your sacred vow and violate the Seal of the Confessional. So, what can be done?”
No idea how these other guys are gonna answer, but I know what I’d do, Michael thought. I might be able to convince that asshole to let me take him to his house to meet the cops and rescue the girl but, if he didn’t agree pretty quick, I’d have no problems changing course to something less pleasant for him.
Bartholomew responded with frustration and moral offense evident in his voice. “We can only work within the boundaries of the sacrament of reconciliation. We have to care for the penitent first and foremost, so we can only do what they’re willing to allow.”
John frowned at the trainee and paused before he replied. “I appreciate that we might eventually get cross over issues of morality and faith, but I’m gonna demand you keep your goddamned tone civil. We don’t know each other that well yet.
“Where was I,” John asked as he scanned the other trainees. “Oh, yeah. What about your obligation to protect the human dignity of his victims, past, present, and future? Armed with that kinda information, doesn’t that change what you might consider necessary? Are you willin’ to bear the spiritual burden of having that man take another life?”
Bartholomew just shook his head and didn’t respond.
John continued, with no apparent animosity over the exchange. “Is it possible that God sent the penitent into your church, into your confessional booth that day, specifically because He knew this man had t
o confess to someone strong enough to make tough choices? Couldn’t that mean you’ve got the only opportunity God’s afforded to save the lives and dignity of dozens, perhaps hundreds of His children?”
John rhetorically paused before pressing them further. “I’m sure y’all already endured similar debates in seminary, but I’m hopin’ we can broaden your horizons maybe even just a bit further. So, lemme add a few things about your obligations to the penitent, the serial killer himself. You obviously have to protect his confession, but I wager you’d agree that you’re called to help provide this penitent, despite his evil, the same relief as you would to any other child of God. The problem is that his psyche, and I assert the underlying evil in his soul, allows him to remain absolved only until his next impulse. Unlike run-of-the-mill sin, his temptations degrade human dignity and create new victims. Whaddaya think? Hours? Minutes? Seconds? Depends on the evil, I imagine.
“I believe,” John continued, “as humans try to cast evil from our species, whether by prayer, chemical, cleaver, or scalpel, the basic reason we’re compelled to do so is love. Love for our fellow man, love for God, and love for ourselves and the hope that someone would be willin’ to do the same for us. So, as you sit here today, do you believe we in the Church can love such men enough, and care enough for their eternal salvation, to put in the tough work to absolve their sins and save their immortal souls from the greatest evils known to man?”
Michael followed John’s gaze around the room, and he saw that everyone else seemed as stumped as he felt. With God, all things are surely possible, but this isn’t a practical hope. He’s headed toward a theoretical fantasyland.
“I absolutely believe we can,” John beamed, “and, that God compels us to do so, upon the very risk of our own immortal souls.”
He might be all sunshine-and-rainbows on the inside right now, Michael surmised, but his outside’s still foreboding as hell.
“I think it’s important for y’all to understand somethin’,” John explained. “We’re talkin’ about all this for a reason. I’m gonna work to get y’all prepared for special assignments in the Church and the Holy See, but that’s gonna demand that you know a damned mountain of material about righteous warfare. Even if I can’t talk about specific roles and assignments, I believe you gotta know that’s what we’re about here. You’d best realize that early on, accept it, and be onboard with it. I hope that we’re gonna challenge your hearts and your minds in how you view your service to God and mankind, but we’re also gonna thicken your shields and sharpen your swords to protect and defend the same. Some of mankind’s greatest goddamned problems require moral, violent, and unpleasant solutions. God’s warriors are thinkin’ men who prefer peace and, even when they’re in the midst of violent action, always seek peace. I’m here to train you to be those kinda problem solvers.
“From my perspective, I propose that most all of today’s topics can be tied together with just one thought. I’d like for y’all to keep this in mind, and lemme know how you think it fits in as we go along here over the days, weeks, and months ahead.” He stepped to the dry erase board at the front of the room and wrote in large block letters as he spoke. “This statement was written by a Frenchman named Charles Baudelaire. He wrote a book in the 19th-century called ‘Flowers of Evil.’ You mighta heard this paraphrased in a movie or two, but it’s gonna be a central theme to our ongoing discussions.” John stepped back from the board and revealed the quote to his trainees.
THE FINEST TRICK OF THE DEVIL IS TO PERSUADE YOU HE DOES NOT EXIST.
“Like I said earlier,” John reminded them, “I expect y’all oughta find new meaning in lotsa shit you thought you already knew and understood.”
SEVENTEEN
Training Day 2, 1629 hours.
Rural Training Compound. Niobrara County.
Michael stood near his unofficially assigned seat in the classroom and awaited John’s return from a short break. The instructor’s philosophical questions had weighed heavily on Michael during the short lunch break, and he’d kept to himself to consider them. How are we as priests supposed to uphold our vows of confidence and simultaneously protect humanity from evil inspiration and action? All while risking our eternal salvation to equally care for the souls of the certainly damned? I don’t see it. The dichotomy and weight of John’s suppositions had kept him preoccupied through much of the afternoon sessions. What are we really working toward here?
As John strode through the classroom’s back door at the precise appointed time, Michael sat and resumed his struggle against his flimsy chair. Damned torture device, gotta be an international sanction against this kinda treatment.
“I try to keep the all-classroom days to a minimum, but it just ends up being kinda necessary at the beginning of the program. Gotta get the housekeeping work outta the way near the front end-a this thing to make sure we’re all on the same page.”
“To that end,” John continued, “we’re gonna press on with some philosophy. I mentioned Thomas Aquinas earlier. In the interest of full disclosure, I’m an avid Aquinas man myself, got tremendous admiration for the fella. Anyone here know much about him?”
Zeb spoke up quickly. “Saint Thomas Aquinas was a friar from Italy, born in the early 1200’s, and died at about fifty-years-old. His philosophy shaped much of Western Civilization and frequently focused on the earlier writings of Saint Augustine.”
“Goddamned right,” John happily confirmed, “he’s canonized while the Church still used Devil’s Advocates in that particular process to weed out all but the most worthy. Only ninety-three saints were canonized before 1983, and there’s been somethin’ like five-hundred identified since. Speaking for myself, I like to know a little bit about the philosopher before putting too much stock in their opinions and ponderings. Just because they’ve been canonized doesn’t necessarily mean they’re the top of the pile, at least among the saints.
“Taking a secular philosopher, for example. Y’all probably heard ‘o Friedrich Nietzsche, right? That ole boy’s a German atheist and philosopher that wanted to know ‘who’s gonna watch the watchers.’ ‘If you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back.’ ‘Those who pursue monsters should take care to ensure they do not become one.’ All that pompous, anti-authority shit, along with a lot that criticized faith and organized religion.” John fished a fresh dip from his Copenhagen can and continued. “But, see, that sum-bitch lived out his years in a goddamned asylum, where he died of syphilis. So, I personally choose to seek my philosophy elsewhere. Kinda blurs the line between thought and insane, syphilitic wonderings, ya know? Maybe it’s just me, but I’m kinda funny that way.”
“Anyhow, I digress,” John surmised. “Saint Aquinas said there were four critical components to waging a ‘just war.’ The very existence of the term ‘just war’ implicitly tells us that violence, circumstantially, is allowed and reasonable, a valid act. Anyone know what the first consideration is?”
Zeb spoke up again. “The war must be waged by those in authority. Aquinas originally identified them as ‘princes,’ but our understanding of the text has since expanded to include all with lawful authority over a population or nation.”
Not surprised he’s good with academics, Michael thought, he looks like he spent all his time in the library and not out on the fields or a wrestling mat. He’s gonna need a lotta heart to stay here, as small as he is.
“You a history buff, Zeb?”
“Not really, but I wrote a research paper on Aquinas in seminary.”
“Alright, well, put your damned feet up and let someone else answer. I know there’s someone else in here that knows what Aquinas had to say. Who’s got his second condition?”
“There must be a just cause for the war,” Sergio answered.
Of course, he would know about ‘just war,’ Michael silently concluded, he was a Marine for six years!
“And, Jude,” John asked Sergio’s pseudonym, “who gets to decide, subjectively, what constitutes ‘just cause’ for
warfare?”
“Aquinas said it could be to avenge injuries, punish wrongs, or any action ordained by God Himself.”
“Still subjective, though, right?”
“Yeah, it could be, but I think he intended the underlying basis to be consistent with the scriptures.”
“I can agree with that,” John stated. “Anyone hung up a little bit that Aquinas identified vengeance as the first of his defined ‘just’ reasons for going to war?”
The group fell silent, and Michael mulled over the question. This feels like my argument with Monsignor Medina, just that John seems to side with me. “For me, there are conflicting examples in the Holy Scriptures, and even in the Catechism, that state on the one hand that vengeance is solely God’s right, but then, on the other, God celebrated or rewarded violence and retaliation for unjust wrongs. It’s not a hang-up for me, personally,” Michael explained, “and I believe God allows and endorses conditional violence.”
“I think vengeance is one of the most hotly contested topics among the faithful,” John offered, “and the most-cited criticism from those that wanna punch holes in the validity and divinity of our faith. We’re mostly accused of being too violent, or selectively endorsing violence against our own enemies, or what-the-hell-ever the goddamned secular hashtag is today. By the way, young-uns,” John facetiously smiled at the class, “that’s called a ‘pound sign,’ and it ain’t nothin’ new. Back to work. Who's got the third condition?”
“War must be waged for the right reasons,” Michael answered. “We’re compelled to fight either to do good or avoid evil. Effectively, we go to war to preserve or reacquire peace or justice, even beyond the initial justifications for war.”
“I like that explanation,” John responded. “We go to war to preserve or reacquire peace or justice. I’m gonna steal that, Andrew. Now, I’ll give you the fourth, just because I think it’s funny. Aquinas demanded that training exercises are only allowed if your soldiers don’t participate in actual violence and ransacking.” John chuckled and offered the first broad smile Michael had seen on the man. “That’s my favorite,” he explained. “You know shit was bad in his society when the local militia went out to train and accidentally pillaged the countryside. Oops. Talk about takin’ shit too far.”
