The God Machine (18 page)

A
RCHBISHOP
D
AMIAN
L
ACEY STOOD IN THE CONFERENCE
room at the heart of the WCC complex in Los Angeles, drinking his second cup of bad coffee, staring at the portrait of Thaddeus Rose on the wall. Senior Pastor Rose had an impressive demeanor, with a broad ready grin, sparkling blue eyes and a well-shaped bald crown whose glow the artist had rendered with unusual aplomb. He was sitting on a low wooden bench against a pale golden wall, with a small wooden crucifix just off to the side and above him. He wore a simple white shirt and gray slacks. Lacey took another sip of his coffee and sighed. Rose looked like a basketball coach at a large university—Notre Dame or Loyola. From his expression, it appeared as if he held the answer to the question just beginning to form on your lips. It was priceless. No wonder the voice of the Heart of the Family had risen from nowhere to become the most powerful Evangelical leader in America.

The archbishop looked down at his watch. It was almost three o'clock. His appointment with Thaddeus Rose had been scheduled for two. Lacey had flown all
the way in from Rome through New York, and this Protestant talk-show host couldn't even be bothered to greet him on time. But the journey was necessary he decided. Now was not the time for old squabbles.

He looked back at the portrait. Lacey had initially learned of Thaddeus Rose when the Arizona-based preacher first hit the airways with his Heart of the Family radio show, back in the mid-seventies. It was billed as a simple call-in program with homespun Bible-based advice on family affairs. Correspondents answered letters and phone calls from listeners on a wide range of subjects, from philandering husbands to kids high on drugs. The ministry got more than ten thousand letters a month, an impressive beginning. Interestingly, Thaddeus seldom talked about politics. And it was this that gave his political diatribes strength. He would interrupt some regularly scheduled programming—some show on adolescent angst or teen pregnancy—to do commentary on a piece of extraordinary legislation that he just had to talk about, and because his rants were so rare, they somehow had more credibility. In no time, his mailing list grew to over three million.

In '83 he founded the Heart of the Family Research Council, a Washington-based lobbying group. It sputtered along until Barry Glazier joined the organization six years later. Leveraging the skills he had honed working for Reagan, Glazier set the organization on fire. By the time he left to run for president in 2000, the Council's budget had ballooned to ten million, ostensibly supplanting the Christian Coalition as the premier Christian Right special-interest group in America. And that was just the beginning.

Thaddeus Rose employed an all-or-nothing strategy when it came to politicians. Instead of supporting multiple candidates, like Ralph Reed of the Christian Coalition had done, Rose honed in like a missile. There was a lesson
to be learned from Reed's fall from favor after supporting the moderate Dole. Rose went to the opposite extreme. He announced that Reed had been ineffectual on key issues like abortion, and he threatened to leave the Republican Party unless his candidates toed the Evangelical line.

Soon, Rose created a series of state-based organizations called the Heart of the Family Policy Councils. They worked hard to elect Republican favorites, including President Alder. In the end, Ohio had been won by only two hundred thousand votes. Evangelical votes. They had pushed Alder over the top. The Heart of the Family Research Council injected over two million dollars into the election, thereby ensuring a constitutional amendment against gay marriage on the ballot. Rose labeled gay marriage their “D-Day.”

The Council for National Policy met in Phoenix in '98, and then a few months later in D.C. The group set up Values Action Teams within Congress, designed to promote key Evangelical issues. But now that another presidential election was looming, the Council was fractured. Most felt the leading Republican candidates weren't sympathetic enough to their issues. Some wanted to rally behind Michael Huckabee, a conservative former governor, but others wondered if he were truly electable. Some favored Mitt Romney, even though he was Mormon and had been a social liberal in the past. If Rudy Giuliani or John McCain got the nod, Evangelicals wouldn't come out at all. It was a difficult time, uncertain and fluid. One quarter of the electorate in 2006 had been Evangelical; now the Democrats were managing to peel many away. It was that damned Values vote against the Republicans for their sordid corruption—the Mark Foley and Tom DeLay scandals.

If the Republicans were to win the White House again, they desperately needed the Evangelical vote. But
it was tattered and frayed, due to internal strife. Only Rose could pull it together. Only Rose, with his database of millions of loyal listeners, with his Heart of the Family Policy Councils, could prevent a bold swing to the left. The last thing they needed now was a seismic distraction, something to fragment the Christian community further.

The door to the office burst open and a large man with thinning blond hair barreled into the room. It was Michael Rose, Thaddeus's lieutenant and son. He strode toward the archbishop.

“Your Excellency,” he exclaimed. “It's a pleasure to meet you at last. How was your flight?”

They shook hands. “Uneventful,” replied Lacey. “Is your father…”

“My father's out of town. On retreat. He won't return for some days, I'm afraid. But when we got your message, he empowered me to act in his absence. This is a historic occasion, your Excellency. Our two churches coming together in this way. A minor Camp David, as it were.”

“Indeed. I mean no offense, Pastor Rose, but the things I have to discuss with your father are of an extremely sensitive nature.”

Michael looked down at the archbishop. He smiled thinly, scratched his face. “I find it interesting,” he said finally, with a chill in his voice, “that you're chasing a man who was once instrumental in toppling Archbishop Grabowski from power.”

Lacey took a step back. “Excuse me?”

“You work for the Vatican Bank, do you not? And this Joseph Koster was personally responsible for the political fall of your former employer, Grabowski. Some might consider that a conflict of interest, or at best a… personal distraction.”

Lacey smiled. The man might be manic and strange,
the archbishop considered, but Michael Rose was no idiot. “My personal feelings on this issue are irrelevant,” he said evenly. “I am fully qualified to represent my Church in this matter.”

“As am I,” Michael answered firmly. Then he smiled. “I suggest we don't let anything distract us from designing a uniform strategy that will help protect both of our Churches. When we received your message about the Gospel of Judas, I knew instantly that it was of the utmost importance, something I should address personally. The Gospel of Judas
must be
found. Koster and Robinson
must
be stopped. The allegation that Judas may have been murdered is more than just troubling, for who would be the most likely suspects but the apostles themselves? But the notion that Christ manipulated Judas into engineering His betrayal is beyond incendiary. It would cast doubt on the legitimacy of the Synoptic Gospels, on the Bible itself.”

“I'm glad we're on the same page,” Lacey said, “when it comes to the gospel's importance. I put it to you, Pastor Rose, that if we are not successful, the Catholic and Protestant Churches—indeed, Christianity itself, and all that it stands for—will be irreparably damaged. Overcome, perhaps, by alien creeds.”

“Or worse,” countered Michael. “By some new Gnostic hybrid, some blasphemy.” He reached suddenly into his herringbone jacket and pulled out a photograph. He gave it to Lacey. “You know who this is?”

The snapshot had been taken at some formal affair, for the woman in it was wearing a scarlet evening gown, Indian bracelets of gold and a long strand of luminous pearls. “Yes, of course,” Lacey answered. “Savita Sajan.”

“The Mystery Babylon. Revelation seventeen makes it clear:
Arrayed in pearls and scarlet, adorned with gold
. It's possible that if this gospel is discovered and published, it could usher in a new kind of Christianity, a
Gnostic Christianity, based on
gnosis
, self-knowledge. A new world religion.”

“You can't be serious?” Lacey exclaimed. “It's just a photograph. She could have worn anything to that function.”

“She could have, but didn't. You think it's a coincidence she's working with Koster and Robinson?”

The archbishop took a deep breath. He had to be careful not to get bogged down in dogma and ecumenical differences. There was too much at stake here.

“While I completely agree we have to be unified in our efforts, Pastor Rose, I'm less inclined to view the Bible so literally. It used to be that the Catholic Church thought the New Testament Gospels were actually written by Luke and by Matthew and the rest of the apostles. But back in '64, the Pontifical Biblical Commission officially defined three basic stages through which the teachings of Jesus have come down to us. The first is represented by the actual words and deeds of Christ. The second is that of the Apostolic Church, when the apostles gave testimony to Christ's vision. And the third stage is recorded for us by the evangelists
—‘in a way suited to the peculiar purpose each one set for himself.’
These are the exact words the Commission used, and they imply that the ‘gospel truth’ is not to be found in a naïve, literal interpretation of the Bible.”

“Naïve!” Michael spluttered.

“What I mean is,” said Lacey, “the Synoptic Gospels were written ‘in the spirit’ of Luke and Matthew, sometime within the first hundred years or so after Christ was crucified. We know this from physical evidence—carbon dating and the like—and from a technique of analysis called form criticism, which studies the themes and literary forms of early manuscripts. One such theme or
Gattung
is the use of sayings. The
Logoi Gattung
for example, is extremely primitive, dating back to the
Logoi
Sophon
of the Jews. Long before anyone began to write anything down, groups of these sayings were passed from generation to generation. Eventually they were placed into a narrative framework, like the Beatitudes in the context of the Sermons on the Mount and on the Plain. What we have in the Synoptic Gospels is not a tradition of the first or second stage, but only of the third—the words and deeds of Christ, yes… but colored by the early Church's experience of Easter, after several decades of apostolic preaching, the words the Holy Ghost empowered them to keep.”

“The horns are blowing, Your Excellency, whether you hear them or not.”

Lacey winced. It was so distasteful to be joining forces with this Evangelical toad. Michael Rose looked like a junkie, the way he stood there and scratched at his face, his manic demeanor, his fidgeting. Lacey thought about Sister Maria and the flotsam she had picked up here in the States, the Cuban mercenaries arranged by Senator Santiago Fernandez of Florida, the first-ever Cuban senator in the United States, who was a member of the Knights. What was the organization being forced to resort to? The Knights had protected the Church for uncounted generations, functioning as the shock troops of Catholic reaction. First, in the wars against the Saracens. Then, the Protestant heresy. Against the Evil Empire of the Soviet Union. And now, once again, against Islam.

“Let us not squabble,” Lacey told Michael Rose. “The reference in Franklin's journal was written in Mishnaic Hebrew. If the Gospel of Judas is as old as it appears to be, it might be the most ancient set of
Logoi
ever discovered. Think of it, Pastor Rose. The very words Christ spoke. Think what it would mean if we had a historically valid collection of His sayings! And then think what would happen if those sayings turned out to be Gnostic.
Can you imagine the headlines?
‘Christ Uncovered as Heretic!’
It would mean anarchy, mayhem. The New Testament would no longer be viewed as the Word of God, but only as one set of truths out of many. Who could possibly cause more damage to Christianity than Jesus Himself? Such a thing must not be allowed to transpire. It would fracture your audience base, throw the Christian right into chaos. It would help rally our enemies in the East, embolden Islamist extremists. Whether we like it or not, we have a common interest in locating the Gospel of Judas, if only to prevent its premature publication before it can be… studied by experts.”

“I thought I could spin cotton candy. You take the cake. Frankly, I'm amazed you even bothered to seek out our assistance,” said Michael. Then he added, “But, with the Pope's failing health, and your tenuous connections in Washington, I suppose it makes sense. You can't afford another scandal right now, can you? Not with your candidate trailing. You need the air cover only we can deliver as your people hunt about for the gospel. You need
us
, Archbishop.”

“We need one another, Pastor Rose.
Christ
needs us.” Lacey paused. Should he tell him about Turing and Boole, about the El Minya and the da Vinci schematics? Should he tell him what was really at stake here? No, he decided. Why show his cards when it might not be necessary?

“We have more in common than we have differences,” said the archbishop. He laid a hand on Rose's shoulder, then pulled it immediately away. There was something… something cold and reptilian about Michael Rose. No, something vacuous, void. It brought him in mind of Sister Maria. They both seemed to emanate the same sense of emptiness.

“Our interests are inexorably intertwined,” he continued awkwardly. “I suggest that we pool our resources.
It's uncertain what Robinson knows. But I've already set things in motion to help recover the gospel.”

“Your infernal agents of Malta, I suppose.”

“By any means necessary.” The archbishop looked down at his watch. “Indeed,” he continued, “a part of our problem may already be solved.”