As much as I love writing social commentary, and please don’t take that as sarcasm as I honestly do writing about the contemporary machinations of man, what I am, at my heart, is a storyteller and I think today I will try as hard as I can to go back to that if only for a day, to see if I can still do the thing I love to do the most.
His fingers flying over the onyx rosary beads his grandmother had commissioned for him years before, the bishop Jacob whispered a silent prayer over and over again to simply have what he had just heard to be a falsehood, to be cleared up when he met with his direct superior Cardinal Vanmanti, in his offices in the Istituto per le Opere di Religione, the Institutes for the Works of Religion, or as it was more colloquially known around the world, the Vatican Bank. Vanmanti would never simply summon him, it had to be false. Yet, he had to go.
Vanmanti was the President of the Commission of Cardinals that was responsible for overseeing the Bank, and Jacob was a direct employee of his, a troubleshooter of sorts, although to call someone who found a missing addition sign more often than anything else was hardly what he had dedicated his life to God for.
What he had seen since his time began at the Holy See, however, how could anyone ever come here and ever want to leave? From the nearness of the Vicar of Christ himself to an entire city that was essentially a priceless work of art. Jacob may not have been the shepherd of a flock any longer, but to be in a place where the holiest men in all of God’s creation have stood more than made up for this most days.
The various laypersons and new priests nodded to him as he walked, as calmly as he could, into the offices of the Bank. He walked to the young priest who served as the secretary for the Cardinal.
“Good Day Father Stephens, is His Eminence available?” his voice was calm and he nearly felt the tinge of pride in maintaining his composure.
Father Stephens, a young man from Eastern Europe, smiled up to Jacob and nodded with a smile. “His Eminence is waiting for you Bishop, you are to go in immediately and without knocking.”
The last was unusual because Vanmanti insisted that people knock on every door in the building before entering. They handled the finances and property of the most exclusive people in creation, a sudden movement could destroy history was his favorite line to use to explain the need.
Jacob nodded once before walking through the ornate door that held Vanmanti’s offices and was waved over to the gargantuan desk the man used to keep the Church afloat financially.
“Jacob, sit and pay very close attention to the phone call that is about to happen.” There was a bead of sweat running down his cheek and Jacob was about to speak when the Cardinal’s direct line ran and after a few button pushes, a crystal clear voice came over the phone, it spoke quickly, but with no trace of panic or fear.
“Cardinal Vanmanti, Bishop Jacob, I am glad that you could attend to this business with us all. You were the last of the connections that needed to be made before we could officially begin.” There was the sound of movement and then a voice that no one in all of the Christian World could not recognize immediately, His Holiness, The Bishop Of Rome, The Pope.
“Followers and Servants of Christ, I have called you in this unique way to tell you of a development that cannot be addressed by the very small amount of people who currently know about it any longer. See this as a form of confession gentleman, and take the sanctity of that into consideration when you hear what I am about to say, outlandish as it may seem.”
“There are more than Three Secrets of Fatima.”
I am a significant fan of writing about the former Church of my Heart, so I present this as a sampling of what I hope will eventually become something more significant than what it currently is. I will not explain the Three Secrets of Fatima, it seems a little awkward for a pagan to describe the secret of secrets of the world’s largest religion.
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