CHAPTER 18
I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use. - Galileo Galilei
While Tad spent Saturday morning at the mosque, Toby and Trey continued their follow-up interviews with hotel, restaurant and convenience store owners near Savannah who were convinced that they had seen the terrorists. They interviewed a waitress who claimed to have overheard “two foreign men with funny accents” talking about a plot to “bomb Mt. McKinley.” When asked if they could have said, “climb” Mount McKinley, she admitted that was possible.
They also talked to a convenience store clerk who said that he had seen “an olive skinned, black hair 40-year-old male in a white pick up truck, license number GA11X22, staring at a gasoline tanker truck with a strange look in his eyes.” Upon further inquiry, Toby and Trey determined that the pick up truck belonged to the clerk’s brother-in-law with whom he had recently had an altercation.
“I don’t know about you, but as far as I’m concerned, this has been an exercise in futility,” Toby said as they drove back to Savannah after their fourth interview of the morning. “What happened to Giordano? Wasn’t he supposed to come back last night and join us today?”
Trey looked at his partner. “I’m sorry. We were so busy with the interviews that I forgot to tell you that he called late last night to let me know that Drake had called him to Washington. Apparently he has a lot of training in identifying the origins and signatures of bombs and bomb-making materials.”
“So we get to keep all of the glamorous work to ourselves,” Toby said. “Maybe I would feel a lot better about things if I could catch a late afternoon flight back to D.C. so I could get some clean clothes and catch a little rest on Sunday. Doesn’t that sound appealing to you?”
Trey responded quickly. “It sure does. I’d like to see my family and attend church. Let’s call Margaret and ask her to get us on the next flight out of here.”
After grabbing a few things from their hotels, they raced to the airport and caught a 5 p.m. flight, via Atlanta, which arrived at Washington National a little after 9 p.m. While in Atlanta, Toby contacted Tad to let her know approximately when he would arrive. Trey contacted his wife, Trisha, who was waiting for him when their plane landed in D.C.
“Can we give you a lift home?” Trisha asked Toby after greeting her husband with a smile and a kiss on the cheek.
“That would be nice,” Sullivan answered, “but I don’t want to take you out of your way. It isn’t that hard to catch a cab.”
“Don’t be silly,” Trisha responded. “It’s just a couple of minutes longer, if that much.”
“Well, I accept then,” Toby responded. “How are the kids? Trey tells me that they are growing up much too fast.”
“They sure are,” said Trisha as the trio made their way toward the parking garage. “Matthew turns 13 next week and he is starting to put pressure on us to allow him to attend what he calls a ‘real school’ next year so he can have more friends and play on the football team.”
Before Toby could respond, Trey answered rather emphatically, “Well that just isn’t going to happen. The public schools in our area are overrun with kids who use drugs and have sex parties, and most of the private schools have too many secular-leaning teachers who fill the kids’ heads with anti-Christian propaganda.”
“What about a Christian school?” Toby asked. “With the new school-choice and voucher legislation, they’re springing up like weeds all over the country. There must be a hundred of them in the D.C. area alone.”
“Matthew’s just going through a stage,” Trey responded. “Trisha is doing a great job with the kids academically, and they can play sports in the local church league.”
“It’s not the same to them and you know it,” Trisha said. “And besides, the children need to be exposed to other kids and teachers to get a better-rounded education than I alone can give them. I think we need to pray about this a little more.”
“I’ve already prayed about it enough and have made a decision,” Trey said with a sense of finality that Trisha apparently did not share.
“We’ll see,” she said, leading to a very quiet walk to the parking lot and their mini-van.
Once inside the van, with Trey occupied driving, Tricia turned her head toward Toby who was sitting behind her. “I haven’t seen you since all of these terrible terrorist attacks. I’m so glad that you weren’t injured in the bombing at your church. Do you agree with Director Drake that Islamic terrorists are responsible for all of the bombings?”
“It appears that way,” Toby responded, “but all of the evidence we have is either circumstantial or hearsay and there is no direct link to al-Quaida such as we had after previous attacks.”
“But who else could be behind such horrible acts?” Tricia asked as if she already knew the answer. “Who else would bomb a church filled with innocent worshipers including children? Muslims are the only ones I know who will even bomb their own mosques. The Sunnis bomb the Shiite mosques and the Shiites bomb the Sunni mosques. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I admit that I have no better suspects,” Sullivan answered, “but I want to keep an open mind so that we catch the people who truly are responsible.”
“That’s wise,” the attractive and smart scientist- turned homemaker and teacher- agreed, looking first at Toby and then at her husband. “I wish some other people I know would keep an open mind about things.”
Toby exchanged smiles with Tricia and then glanced at Trey who was not smiling. The three remained quiet for the final few minutes up the Rock Creek Parkway and Connecticut Avenue to Toby’s condo. When they arrived, Toby thanked his friends, grabbed his suitcase and placed his finger on the new fingerprint identification device that unlocked the lobby door. As he rode the elevator to the top floor, he wondered what Tad had in store for the evening, because they had made no firm plans during their phone conversation earlier. After rolling his suitcase from the elevator to his condo, he opened the door and was greeted by J. Edgar.
“Jeddy, buddy, how are you? Did you miss me?” he asked as he held his hand down to rub his furry friend.
“Why should he miss you when he has me? Trey asked as she came into the entrance hall wearing nothing but an unbelievably skimpy nightgown.
Suddenly, Toby could feel his plans for the evening firming up.
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On Sunday morning Tad awoke very early in order to make it to St. Jude’s in time to help Sister Mary Frances Sweeney prepare breakfast for the homeless. Before leaving, she gave Toby a kiss and asked if he planned to sleep-in or attend his usual 10 a.m. service at the Cathedral.
He awoke long enough to answer, “Yea, I’m going. It may be the last time I ever go there, but I think I at least need to give the new rector a chance. Would you like to meet me at the new coffee shop in Cleveland Park around 11:30? Then we can take a walk through the zoo if you’d like.”
Tad agreed to meet at 11:30, encouraged Toby to get more sleep and then headed out the door to catch a cab. She arrived at the school kitchen at 6 a.m., just as Mary Frances was unlocking the door.
“Good morning Sister,” Tad said cheerily. “How was your week?”
“Pretty good, dear,” the spry nun responded as she led the way into the kitchen, activating the motion sensor that turned on the lights. “How about yours?”
“Not too bad,” said Tad. “It would have been better if we’d made any progress in finding the people responsible for the bombings.”
“A horrible thing,” Sister said, shaking her head. “If I live to be 110, I don’t think I’ll ever understand how people can be so cruel to each other. I’d like to believe it is because they have no moral or religious framework, but too often these days it seems to be just the opposite. They use their religion to justify violence.”
“Watch out, Sister,” Tad said with a grin. “You’re beginning to sound like me.”
Mary Frances looked very serious as she spoke to her former student. “Tad, I’d rather sound like you than some of the religious kooks I know. They scare the bejeevies out of me.”
“How’s that, Sister?” Tad asked, bothered by the pained look on her friend’s face.
“Oh, I shouldn’t be so dramatic,” Mary Frances responded. “It’s really nothing new. We’ve had kooks in the church for as long as there has been a church. It’s just that there seem to be more of them today.”
“What kind of kooks?” Davenport asked.
Sister Mary Frances looked at Tad and lowered her voice. “Well, the kind that scare me the most, don’t you know, are the ones who are always quoting the Bible to justify anything that they or the government does or, in their opinion, should do.”
“What do you mean?” asked Tad as she reached for a large pan hanging over the stove.
“Well, most of them are just talking and probably don’t believe half of what they say,” Sister Sweeney explained. “They talk about bringing back the death penalty, because the Bible talks about an eye for an eye. And they talk about having to wipe all Muslims off the face of the earth, because the Bible says that believing in Jesus is the only path to heaven.”
After a slight pause, the nun continued. “But the ones who really scare me are a few I have encountered here and there who seem to believe very sincerely that violence is justified, not just in response to violence or to prevent further violence- such as stopping the people responsible for the bombings, don’t you know- but also to achieve the goal of making this a more Christian nation and world.”
“Sounds like a modern day crusade,” Tad said.
“You might call it that,” Sweeney replied, “a crusade proclaimed by some really misguided people.”
“What kind of violence are they talking about?” Tad asked. “Do they actually advocate overthrowing our government and installing a minister and a bunch of deacons to run the country?”
Mary Frances smiled. “No, I can’t actually say that I have heard anyone talk about a coup, but in discussions I have heard people- even some who work in the government- say that violence against the government could be justified if it resulted in making this a more Christian country.”
“Well, to play devil’s advocate here- not that I believe in the devil any more than I do the other side,” Tad responded, “but hasn’t the church always taught that there are times when violence can be justified if oppression is the alternative?”
“At one time or another I believe the church has taken almost every side of every issue,” Sister Mary Frances responded, “but, I don’t believe the modern Catholic Church has ever taken the position that people in a democratic society are justified in using violence to further any goal, however well intentioned.”
“Well, if the church doesn’t teach these ideas, where do people get them?” asked Tad as she pulled several cartons of eggs out of the refrigerator.
“That’s a good question, dear, and I’m afraid I don’t know the answer. I do know that there are a lot of religious societies- some small and some large- that have been formed within the Catholic Church and across denominational lines whose members espouse a much more fervent and evangelical brand of Christianity. And I have heard that there may even be some secret societies that are more radical in their beliefs.”
“Radical secret societies, huh?” Tad didn’t seem shocked. “I’ve heard the same thing from friends. Doesn’t surprise me in the least. People like that feed off each other. Look back in history at organizations like the KKK. Put people like that together and pretty soon, they think that everyone else is nuts. Only the ones inside the secret society really understand how to view the world.”
“Enough of this,” Sister said in a voice that she might have used to quiet a class of second-graders. “We have more important and uplifting things to do this morning. Let’s not worry ourselves to death over a few kooks.”
“Whatever you say, Sister,” Tad said while remembering the comfort and stability of being a student at St. Jude Elementary School. “Can you please hand me some bacon?”
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Toby heard the organ as he neared the west entrance of the Cathedral. He was comforted by the fact that the music was a familiar composition of Handel. He had no idea what to expect under this new vicar’s administration.
Taking a seat in his usual spot close to the column near the northwest corner of the main nave of the Church, he thought about his evening with Tad- especially the closeness they felt while making love- as he waited for the service to begin. Probably he shouldn’t be thinking about such things in a church, but it seemed perfectly appropriate to him, because love should be what religion is about, and yes, sex can be a wonderful expression of love, and certainly was last night.
Suddenly he was shaken from his pleasant- or were they prurient- thoughts as the pipes of the giant organ filled the church with the familiar sounds of Hymn Number 362.
Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty!
Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee;
Holy, holy, holy, merciful and mighty!
God in three Persons, blessed Trinity!
Holy, holy, holy! All the saints adore Thee,
Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea;
Cherubim and seraphim falling down before Thee,
Who was, and is, and evermore shall be.
Holy, holy, holy! though the darkness hide Thee,
Though the eye of sinful man Thy glory may not see;
Only Thou art holy; there is none beside Thee,
Perfect in power, in love, and purity.
Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty!
All Thy works shall praise Thy Name, in earth, and sky, and sea;
Holy, holy, holy; merciful and mighty!
God in three Persons, blessed Trinity!
So far, so good, Toby thought as he sat down and prepared to think about the events of the past week. The new rector had kept the classical music that he loved.
Through the Acclamation, the Collect, the first and second lessons, the Gradual Hymn and the Holy Gospel, Toby’s mind wandered from one memory to another of the bombing in Savannah, the interviews and his evening with Tad.
But then the rector began his sermon, and Sullivan listened with rapt attention. He wanted to know whether the new rector believed- as Father York did- in a “big” God who could be sought and discovered in many ways or a “small” God found only through the words of a single book. It did not take long to find out. This was a different kind of Christianity than he had previously encountered at the National Cathedral. It was a sermon that might have been delivered by one of those television evangelists.
“I am often asked,” said the rector, “what evidence exists that Christ is the only path to heaven. Well, the answer to that question is that Christianity is not based upon evidence...but it is backed by evidence. Obviously anyone could ‘claim’ to be God. The difference with Jesus is that His life completely backed those claims. If you don’t believe me, check out the history, check out the claims.
A primary focus for your study should be that Jesus fulfilled over 300 messianic prophecies written in the Old Testament scriptures. With the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls and the reliability of the Septuagint version of the Old Testament, both of which have been proven to exist prior to the time Jesus walked on the earth, you can be assured that these prophecies were not ‘conspired’ after-the-fact. They were truly fulfilled by the Messiah, Jesus Christ.”
So that’s why so many people believe that Christianity is the one and only true religion, Toby thought as the rector continued with his sermon. Finally, after reciting scripture verse after scripture verse to bolster the claim that salvation comes through Christ alone, the rector concluded.
“Christians do not go around saying Christianity is the only way because we are arrogant, stupid or judgmental,” the new rector said.
“We do so because, based on the evidence, we believe what Jesus said. Christians believe in Jesus, who claimed to be God as written in John 8:58 and Exodus 3:14; who forgave sins as written in Mark 2:5 and Luke 5:20; 7:48; and who rose from the dead as reported in Luke 24:24-29 and John 2:19. Jesus said that He was the only way.”
“Well, that does it,” Toby thought as the homily concluded. “No Muslims; no Jews; no Buddhists in our heaven.”
And then when the choir director announced that the next hymn would be a special hymn of praise found in the program, and a guitarist appeared, Toby listened briefly:
You are holy, you are mighty.
You are worthy, worthy of praise.
I will follow, I will listen.
I will love you, all of my days.
Then he turned and walked out, taking one final look at the dimly-lit, but still beautiful Rose window above the west entrance door and thinking to himself. “No Muslims; no Jews; no Buddhists in our heaven and no Winston Tobias Sullivan in this Cathedral.”
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The Rawlings family arrived at the Holy Trinity Evangelical Church at exactly 10 minutes before 10 a.m., as they did every Sunday morning, rain or shine, cold or hot. Associate Director Drake greeted them when they arrived and pulled Trey aside for a quick word.
“I had a talk with Giordano yesterday, and he tells me that you are quite the Bible scholar,” the taskforce leader said to his agent. “He also said that you seem to have a real grasp of the true meaning of scripture and of the importance of Christianity to our country,”
Trey wasn’t sure how to respond except to say, “Well, that was nice of him. I hope that my knowledge of Christ’s word helps me live a Christian life.”
“I don’t think there is much doubt about that,” Drake responded. “You can tell just by looking at your family that you are raising them with the right Christian values. But what I want to talk to you about concerns the Society of Saints. I want you to come to a meeting tonight at 8 p.m. Can you do that?”
“Eight p.m.? I guess so,” Trey answered. “We eat dinner early on Sunday so the children can get to bed and get a good start on the week. I normally go to bed early myself- around 9:30- but I can stay up a little later tonight. Where is the meeting?”
“It’s at my house in N.W. Washington,” Drake said. “It isn’t that far from where you live. Here are the directions. I’ll see you at eight.”