Chapter Two: The Wolf's Lair
Archbishop Rupert Weakling met Fr. McNutty in the lavish entrance hall of his Georgian Palladian mansion. Interiorly, the opulent residence seemed reminiscent of the mediaeval castles that McNutty had seen in books when only a lad. The archbishop was wearing a light-blue silk shirt with gold cufflinks dipped in platinum, double-pleated white trousers, and patent leather slippers with his coat of arms embroidered on each one. Balding, with dark blotches decorating his skull, the squat Weakling could best be described as an evil looking toad. "Have a sherry", he said, as he led his new rector into his office."Thanks", said McNutty, sitting down and putting his feet up on the Archbishop's antique oak desk. Flicking off a possibly imaginary piece of fluff off his sleeve, the archbishop poured himself a copious amount of whiskey, then took his place behind the desk.
"What's that?" asked McNutty, gesturing vulgarly towards a picture that had been turned towards the wall. "Oh, Pius something or other, err Pius X actually", replied the archbishop. "Yep, just thinking about him gives me a headache. I keep it here so as to keep an eye on it. I'm going to sell it and don't trust it leaving my office".
"Why don't you put up Kung in his place"? asked the still learning unimaginative modernist. "Well, Aidan, he's a bit old-hat now, I want a real beakthrough thinker. I'm thinking of Fr. Matthew Fox".
"Wow! shouted McNutty, jumping to his feet, "he's great"! "He sure is", said Rupert, lighting a cigar. Leaning back in his armchair, the archbishop puffed and pondered his next move against the Catholics. Something was disturbing him, it was someone that he knew he would have to face sooner or later...
Breaking the archbishop's train of thought, young McNutty interjected, "Oh, Rupert, to change the subject, the schools are beginning the new year and the Sex Ed courses - are they printed yet"?
"Just look at this", said Weakling. Rising from his armchair, he strode into a side room and returned with a glossy book and DVD package. "I've got twenty boxes - in total 2000 of these".
McNutty flicked through the photo riddled book with salacious glee. What a wonderful programme he thought! "Just think Rupert, before the Council we would have been booted out of the priesthood for stuff like this. No pension, no flats, no luxury", mused the young man.
"That's right my boy, answered the archbishop, "a few years ago we would be know as purveyors of pornography. Now, we are respected clerics."
"Well, what about those meddlesome people who keep going to the Latin Mass? You've got to get rid of them Rupert".
The Archbishop, visibly annoyed, twirled his cigar and then after chomping on it angrily, ground it into his ashtray and picked up the phone. "Sadie, get me Teresa Insane", growled the archbishop. After a few seconds, the Archbishop began speaking with probably the power in his diocese - the frightful feminist, a lesbian-Marxist with an un-resplendent crew-cut: Sr.Teresa Insane!
Young Aidan, pouring himself another dry sherry, listened to his master chatting with Teresa.
"When can we expect the chancellery to come up with some sort of canonical pretext to outlaw these idiots?.......Oh....... I see....well can't we confuse the issues?.......great, that's brilliant- just confusion, that will do it.......you are so right, most people are obedient and will follow us.......anyhow, I believe that we have convinced people that Latin is dumb and as such they won't want to go......but I think we have to think something up in the long run........you see, it is the sex-ed, if they get started, it could be difficult.......I have my own problems here at the seminary. I've got my own gang in, they are a diverse lot and we are very open about things here........after all, did we not take a few lessons from the the way you recruited your.......'your sisters' "?
So saying, Weakling roared with laughter, adding: "I always remember the day when that moron cardinal came from Rome to investigate the seminary. Did we EVER fool him!" The archbishop sniggered and giggled evilly with his eager conspirator in sin, and then hung up the phone.
"These Romans are dumb, aren't they"?, offered McNutty.
"Yes they are, replied Weaking, "but only for the moment. If they ever awoke and regained power we could be eliminated in a flash. Vigilance, Aidan, vigilance". "Yes Rupert, " said Aidan obediently, and as if to emphasize the point, gulped down his sherry.
The archbishop, seemingly inspired by a dark inner force, began to sermonize and educate his underling.
"We bishops must be watchpersons (sic) against these fascists who would turn back the clock to clericalism. The church (sic) is now a human-rights organization with liturgical ceremony as window dressing. It is a communitarian experience. In this way we have progressed and developed beyond what even the great men before us could ever envisage. Marx proposed destroying the church. We propose destroying her, yes - but still maintaining the structural corporate body. Marx did not see that far. We still pray to God - but Marx could not see the day when "God" meant oneself! The Modernists could. We follow our Modernist greats: do not destroy the church (sic), corrupt her. My dear Aidan, we are worshipping ourselves and therefore we are the leading exponents of human rights and humanism. Don't ever forget that you are involved in a great and noble enterprise - the advancement of a humanism that only prophets like Comte, Nietzsche, de Chardin could see. Aidan, the Omega point is nothing but the reality that we are all progressing to be as gods. This is really what Jesus teaches - the Gospels are window dressing - fluff. What they really mean is that each and every one of us is divine".
Rising to his feet, Weakling vulgarly imbibed his 18 year Laphroaig and walked towards the door. "I have to go now Aidan. I'm flying out to Rome play a few rounds with Msgr. Frederico Fabrizzi. He's one of our boys and an important ally." The archbishop strolled out onto the grounds at the rear of the multi-acre property and boarded a diocesan leased executive helicopter for the short trip to the airport. From there, the repulsive prelate would fly by private jet to Rome.
... to be continued ...
... to be continued ...