From the Heart of the Shepherd

From the bulletin for The Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (2025 July 20)

The Eschatological Adventure, Part 10

Shalomon Scuritas always got what he wanted. He was still a boy when he realized that this was not the case for other mortals. (One confirmation among many that he was someone of great importance.) From his earliest days, the world of men smiled upon him. Granting unexpressed wishes, opening doors otherwise closed, and furnishing every comfort which taste could crave and munificence afford. As he grew older and his desires became more complex, he learned to put up with failure: the failure of others (which he never failed to note, and to whose causes he never gave a second opportunity), the annoyance of the unforeseen, the uncooperativeness of the weather, etc. But as he grew in shrewdness and power, even these unfortunate aspects of the human experience were bent to his will. At least, they were factored into his seemingly inexorable designs. 

Therefore, Catholics–those of the primitive observance, who employed wheat bread in their worship and not only still married but would not divorce–must needs be found to stand in attendance at the upcoming ceremonies. He wanted this; it would happen. Indeed, it was of the utmost importance for all that the day was to signify that a token quantity of these otherwise-lamentable elements be present. Mr. Roque, his most reliable disciple, knew better than to debate the point. Even so, the difficulty of the task warranted a rare word of cool protest, despite the risk entailed.

“As you wish All-Father,” he began, employing already the title that would be officially sanctioned at the Ceremony itself. “But just as you know all things, you also know that subset is practically extinct. There hasn’t been a sale or purchase made by a dogmatist Catholic for more than a generation. And if it becomes known that any exclusivists are not merely still alive but actually present at the New Beginning, there is no telling what will result. The success of the One Mind curriculum virtually assures a violent reaction to absolutists, as you well know.”

Mr. Roque knew that he was extending himself, but as he had not yet been cut off, he decided to exhaust his objections. “Moreover,” he persisted, “there will already be Nonjudgmental Christians of every stripe present, including nearly all the patriarchs and cardinals of the so-called apostolic cooperating communions, who have already cast their ballots as agreed and will declare you Pope of the Reunified Universal Church, in conformity with the declarations of the other credal groups.” 

Scuritas studied the face of his servant while he pontificated from across the desk at which he sat. “The art of listening,” was how he referred to it in his books and interviews. But privately, he preferred the phrase of the ancient Pythagoras: “A wise man is known by his silence, a fool by his words.” Scuritas liked to know what kind of fool he was dealing with, that he might best make use of him or her. So he waited to make sure that Mr. Roque was finished. He nodded, though not in agreement. Then came the edict. 

“They are practically extinct, not actually. I know exactly what will result from their presence. Leave that to me. You know where to find them and how to induce their participation. Do it. The time has come.” 

The steward nodded solemnly and retired. Scuritas was left alone in his working quarters, famously modest for their simplicity, which contained “only those instruments necessary for peacemaking,” he would explain to astonished visitors. Besides its simplicity, what was impressive was the view. From the top floor of the unfinished WorldSpire that ascended miles above the surface of the earth–supported by columns of localized energy, not matter–and pierced outer space with its pinnacle, one could behold practically all the nations of the earth with a single glance. 

To that view Shalomon Scuritas now turned. On his face, reflected in the glass, broke a slight grin as he contemplated the world beneath him. That face, youthful but severe, had in a short time become the most recognizable on the planet, a veritable symbol of the hope and possibility of humanity. And its time had come.

From the Heart of the Shepherd: The Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time