The Omega Scroll (7 page)

‘Bobby Shanahan, Hughie Taylor and little Jimmy Osborne. All of them. Not eatin’, wettin’ the bed, sullen, just not themselves. The first one to suspect anything was Grandma Taylor. She came to me and to my undyin’ shame … to my undyin’ shame I told her I would have none a’ that sorta talk in ma parish.’

Mitch Coburn was normally a big jovial gentle giant. Today he looked as if he’d been run over by a Massey-Harris tractor.

‘Ahm afraid to say ah was wrong. Ah’ve been in touch with the Bishop and he’s told me on the quiet that it’s not the first time it’s happened. He’s removed Father Courtney and the Cardinal is coming down next week from Chicago to make amends.’

‘What do you mean it’s not the first time it’s happened, Mitch?’ Eleanor asked, a steely edge to her voice. ‘What sort of “amends” does this Cardinal think he can make?’ Her stomach was churning like a washing machine. ‘My Tom has never been the same since he went out with that priest and now he refuses to discuss it.’

Eleanor’s face was white, matching an anger that was directed at the only target she could find. ‘I stood up for the priest and now you’re saying this might have happened before! My son has had heaven only knows what done to him and all I can do is stick up for a Church that protects its priests and ignores my child and every other child they allow Rory Courtney and others like him to be with. Well, you and your precious Church and that priest can all burn in hell!’

Mitch Coburn blinked at the ferocity of a mother’s anger.

‘I know, Eleanor, I know. It’s the most terrible thing. Terrible,’ was all he could say.

Tom Schweiker groaned wretchedly in his sleep at the memory of a Church offering each family fifty thousand dollars provided that everyone agreed to secrecy. The searing memory of a mother refusing to sign unless the priest was struck off and a cardinal who insisted that was the Church’s business, not hers.

He woke sweating at the memory of a little town that had been destroyed by the suicides of Bobby Shanahan and Hughie Taylor. An anger at a Church that couldn’t care less, callously protecting its image and leaving the Rory Courtneys of the world free to go to the next parish and destroy more lives, all in the name of Christ.

Lorenzo Petroni had good reason to feel satisfied. Karol Wojtyla of Poland had been elected as Pope, taking the name John Paul II. Cardinal Villot had been reappointed as Cardinal Secretary of State and Petroni had been retained as the new Pope’s Chief of Staff with control of the Vatican Bank. But there were still two loose ends. Petroni drummed his elegant fingers on his desk as he wrestled with the available solutions. The Omega Scroll had been removed to a little known part of the Secret Archives and the brief destroyed, which left the old professor from Ca’ Granda and Father Giovanni Donelli. Professor Fiorini would have to be dealt with quickly. The ‘Italian Solution’ would need to be applied. Lorenzo Petroni resolved to speak with Giorgio Felici at the earliest opportunity. Which left Donelli.

The new Pope had brought his own private secretary and Petroni had assured Pope John Paul II that Donelli would be looked after. Angered by Donelli’s calmness in a crisis and his resistance to the Vatican’s press line on the death of John Paul I, Petroni had immediately found him a mind-numbing filing job in the Vatican library in the hope he would resign. Young priests, he reflected angrily, were usually much easier to control. So far there had been no sign of resignation and Petroni had resolved to get Donelli out of the Vatican and the corridors of power at the earliest opportunity. Still considering his options, Petroni began to scan the files that were marked for the new Pope’s attention, only allowing those he was happy with to pass to the Pope – an investigation into a Sainthood … a delegation from Opus Dei … a request from the US Ambassador to Italy for an audience with His Holiness …

The next file irritated him immediately – the university proposal. Petroni had forgotten about it, but now the doddering old cardinal in charge of the Congregation for the Clergy had dutifully provided the four names that the dead Pope John Paul I had insisted on. Petroni was about to consign it to archives when he had a second thought. He glanced at the four names – two priests and two nuns. At least they got the number right. There was less chance of a priest getting close to a nun if there were two others watching. None of the names were familiar which meant that there was less control over the program but, he mused, if Donelli were put on the program it would get him out of the Vatican.

Again he wondered how much of the brief the young priest had absorbed in the minutes he had been alone in the dead Pope’s bedroom, and he fleetingly reconsidered the ‘Italian Solution’. Donelli was too close to the dead Pope; it would be too risky. The speculation on the death of John Paul I had wound down and eliminating Donelli might open up a full-scale inquiry. Donelli had worried Petroni from the moment he’d met him. The athletic young priest appeared to have a razor-sharp intellect and an astute ability to effortlessly grasp the most complex of issues. Unable to feel a genuine liking for anyone but himself, Petroni had reverted to his standard jealous response to any rival. He had done his customary detailed research into Giovanni’s personal history which had revealed a very close family background. No doubt a major reason for Donelli’s ability to mix easily in all walks of life. An image of his own violent father flashed into his thoughts and Petroni subconsciously redirected a burning hatred towards the unsuspecting Giovanni. While this emotion ran hot he marked the young priest with a single star in his little black book. True to form, Petroni calmed his anger and realised the university proposal could work to his own benefit. Sending Giovanni back to university would give Petroni a double advantage – it would get Giovanni out of the corridors of power and stall his growing reputation. More importantly, it would give Petroni a channel of communication and a measure of control over this unwanted secular program. Petroni smiled thinly as he put a line through one of the priest’s names and substituted that of Father Giovanni Donelli.

In answer to Archbishop Petroni’s summons Giovanni paused before knocking on the door to the inner office. He collected his thoughts and went over the issues that he thought might be exercising Petroni’s mind. This week the Curial Cardinals and the Archbishop would again be discussing Vatican II and contraception. He knocked and entered the office.

‘Have a seat, Father Donelli.’ Archbishop Petroni waved his right hand towards the high-backed chair that had a permanent position in front of his desk. Petroni had arranged for his desk and his own chair to be raised several centimetres so he could look down on whoever was sitting in the chair opposite.

‘The Curial Cardinals will be meeting tomorrow to receive a progress report on Vatican II.’ As he spoke, Archbishop Petroni absentmindedly examined his fine bony fingers. Giovanni recognised the ploy – one of feigned indifference – and he was instantly on guard.

‘You’ve served in a small parish, where was it again?’ Petroni asked.

‘Maratea, Excellency. It’s a small village south of Naples on the Tyrrhenian Sea.’

‘Ah yes, I remember. Tell me, how did the parishioners react to Vatican II?’ It was a fearfully loaded question. In 1962 when Pope John XXIII was asked why the second Vatican Council was needed, His Holiness had got up with a twinkle in his eye, opened a window and said, ‘I want to throw open the windows of the Church so that we can see out and the people can see in’. Faced with that sort of logic the Curial Cardinals had been careful to support Vatican II in public, but in private their opposition had been scathing. Concepts such as the possibility of ordinary people gaining salvation outside the Catholic Church seriously threatened the power of the priesthood.

‘When Vatican II was introduced I had only just been made an altar boy, Excellency.’ Giovanni’s mind flashed back to the little fishing village of Maratea where he had grown up in the Faith. His first day as an altar boy was not only a defining moment for himself; it had been a cause for celebration for his whole family.

High above the fishing port of Maratea, the parish church of the Addolorata nestled amongst the terracotta roofs of the houses on one of the Apennine ridgelines that tumbled into the Golfo di Policastro and the emeralds and blues of the Tyrrhenian Sea.

Giovanni Donelli was robed in the white cassock his mother had stayed up sewing the night before. He glanced at his family who had arrived half an hour before the service to make sure to get the front pew. Papà was beaming, Mamma quietly proud, and his younger brothers Giuseppi and Giorgio were trying to look uninterested. The old wooden pews protested as the congregation settled back and Father Vincenzo Abostini prepared to address them all. The beautifully kept little church didn’t have a pulpit, but Christ and his Mother Mary would have certainly approved. The altar was covered in the finest white lace, which
le donne
of the village laundered every week. High on the wall behind the altar between two marble pillars was a life-size statue of Mary, standing watch over the little congregation, six gold candlesticks at her feet. Giovanni could still remember sitting on the marble steps that led up to the chancel, listening to Father Abostini, a quiet gentle man with an ample waistline, thinning hair and flushed, pudgy cheeks.

‘I have a message from the Holy Father himself,’ Father Abostini began, grasping the sides of the lectern. On Sunday 14 October 1962, the same message was being read in tens of thousands of Catholic parishes around the world but Father Abostini had the ability to make it seem as if it was a personal message to the villagers of Maratea.

‘Il Papa sends his blessings to each of you and he asks for your prayers. Under the auspices of the Virgin Mother of God, the Second Vatican Council is being opened in Rome beside St Peter’s tomb. I want to add my own message to that of Il Papa. I know that many of you have great hopes for Vatican II, but,
i miei amici
, please understand that reaching a conclusion will take time.’

Like a true priest of the people, Vincenzo Abostini was warning them against expecting too much. He had spent time in the Vatican and knew well the formidable power of the Curial Cardinals massing against any change.

‘Many of you, I know, have deep concerns over issues such as birth control, but I would caution that change will not happen overnight.’ The Vatican’s dogged ban on contraception had caused millions of Catholics enormous pain. He glanced at Giovanni’s mother sitting in the front pew. He had shared the guilt of her confession as they’d sat either side of the grill in the church’s little white wooden confessional the previous day. Like so many of his flock, tormented by the Church’s teaching. A dogma that had very little to do with the Bible and a lot more to do with the Vatican using sex to maintain its power over the masses.

‘In convening such a Council our much loved Holy Father has shown great leadership,’ Father Abostini continued. ‘In his own words, he has flung open the windows of the Holy Church to what he has called
aggiornamento
, a process of renewal and modernisation of the Faith. He has reached out to the Jewish faith with a concern for the Church’s anti-Semitism of the past. Instead of denouncing other religions he has rejoiced in their common spirituality. Il Papa is truly a man of the people. He is one of us. I am reminded of the story of him catching a reflection of himself in a mirror and remarking ‘
Sono fa brutto
– I am so ugly!’

The laughter of the villagers of Maratea was full of affection for a Pope who was truly ‘one of them’. A Pope who held the view that the Church should be less hierarchical and more open. More responsive to her grass roots congregations and the world outside the walls of the Vatican. In the tradition of Christ himself, Pope John XXIII held that the villagers were the most important part of the Church. Rather than a tree with the Pontiff and his bishops at the top, Pope John saw the Church more like a field, each blade of grass making up the People of God.

It was this view of the Church that made an indelible impression on Giovanni and it had become stronger as his career progressed. It was a philosophy that resonated deeply within him and formed the foundations for his interpretation of his faith and its teachings. This philosophy was a guiding light in times of doubt and darkness. It gave him an inner strength that would be sorely tested in the not too distant future. Archbishop Petroni and his supporters were quietly massing against any departure from the dogma and were preparing to silence the echoes of Vatican II. But across the Mediterranean, as the heat haze shimmered off the Dead Sea and a few grains of sand trickled from the roof of a cave, a much greater threat to the dogma was yet to be discovered.

‘And what did Father Abostini have to say about Vatican II?’ Archbishop Petroni demanded, frustrated with Giovanni’s noncommittal answer.

Giovanni was jolted back to the present with the realisation that, on the one hand, Archbishop Petroni seemed to need reminding as to which parish Giovanni had belonged but on the other, he knew precisely which priest was in charge.

‘He was supportive of the Holy Father’s message, Excellency.’

‘Of course. And what were the peoples’ views on
Humanae Vitae
?’

‘Maratea is only a small village, Excellency, but the news of the world does not go unnoticed and many villagers follow
The Catholic Weekly
. When it reported that the Canadian bishops had allowed informed conscience on birth control, it was also reported that this had provided a great many Canadians with relief from the burden of guilt. Many of the villagers in Maratea expressed their disappointment, Excellency, that they did not receive the same relief.

‘The disobedience of the Canadian bishops has not gone unnoticed, Father.’

‘The people of Maratea are fishermen, Excellency. They have a strong faith that is a great comfort when times are hard.’

Archbishop Petroni got up from behind his desk, turned his back and walked over to the windows overlooking La Piazza San Pietro. Giovanni remained seated.