needs to do while communing with
God-whether that's wearing pajamas, or eating an Egg McMuffin, or dozing off during my sermon.'
'Now, Shay Bourne isn't the first person to come along and stir the pot,' King said. 'Few years back, a Florida State football quarterback was found lying in the street, claiming to be God. And a fellow in Virginia wanted his driver's license changed to reflect that he was a resident of the
Kingdom of Heaven. What do you think it is about Shay Bourne that makes people believe he might be the real deal?'
'As far as I understand,' Fletcher said, 'Bourne's not claiming to be the
Messiah or Mary Poppins or Captain America-it's the people supporting him who have christened him, no pun intended. Ironically, that's very similar to what we see in the Bible-Jesus doesn't go around claiming to be God.'
' ' I am the way, the truth, and the life; no man cometh unto the Father, but by me,' ' Justus quoted. 'John, 14:6.'
'There's also evidence in the gospels that Jesus appeared in different forms to different people,' Fletcher said. 'The apostle James talks about seeing Jesus standing on the shore in the form of a child. He points it out to John, who thinks he's nuts, because the person on the shore isn't a child but a handsome young man. They go to investigate, and although one sees an old, bald man, the other sees a young guy with a beard.'
Reverend Justus frowned. 'I can quote the Gospel of John forward and backward,' he said, 'and that's not in there.'
Fletcher smiled. 'I never said it was from the Gospel of John. I said it was from a gospel. A Gnostic one, called the Acts of John.'
'There's no Acts of John in the Bible,' Justus huffed. 'He's making this up.'
'The reverend's right-it's not in the Bible. And there are dozens of others like it. Through a series of editorial decisions, they were excluded- and considered heresy by the early Christian church.'
'That's because the Bible is the Word of God, period,' Justus said.
'Actually, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John weren't even written by the apostles Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. They were written in Greek, by authors who had a modicum of education-unlike Jesus's fishermen disciples, who were illiterate, like ninety percent of the population. Mark is based on the apostle Peter's preaching. Matthew's author was probably a
Jewish Christian from Antioch, Syria. The Gospel of Luke was allegedly written by a doctor. And the author of the Gospel of John never mentions his own name... but it was the latest of the four synoptic gospels to be written, roughly around A.D. 100. If the apostle John was the author, he would have been extremely old.'
'Smoke and mirrors,' Reverend Justus said. 'He's using rhetoric to distract us from the basic truth here.'
'Which is?' King asked.
'Do you truly believe that if the Lord chose to grace us with his earthly presence again-and that is a big if, in my humble opinion-he would willingly choose to inhabit a convicted murderer, two times over?'
My hot water started to boil, and I disconnected the stinger. Then I turned off the television without hearing Fletcher's answer. Why would
God choose to inhabit any of us?
What if it was the other way around... if we were the ones who inhabited
God?
M I C H A EL
During the drive to Maggie's parents' home, I wallowed in various degrees of guilt. I had let down Father Walter and St. Catherine's. I'd made a fool of myself on TV. And although I'd started to tell Maggie that
Shay and I had some history between us that he didn't know about-I had chickened out. Again.
'So here's the thing,' Maggie said, distracting me from my thoughts as we pulled into the driveway. 'My parents are going to be a little excited when they see you in my car.'
I glanced around at the quiet, wooded retreat. 'Don't get much company here?'
'Don't get many dates is more like it.'
'I don't want to burst your bubble, but I'm not exactly boyfriend material.'
Maggie laughed. 'Yeah, thanks, but I'd like to think even I'm not that desperate. It's just that my mother's got radar or something-she can sniff out a Y chromosome from miles away.'
As if Maggie had conjured her, a woman stepped out of the house. She was petite and blond, with her hair cut into a neat bob and pearls at her neck. Either she'd just come home from work, or she was headed out-my mother, on a Friday night, would have been wearing one of my dad's flannel shirts with the sleeves rolled up, and what she called her Weekend Fat
Jeans. She squinted, glimpsing me through the windshield. 'Maggie!' she cried. 'You didn't tell us you were bringing a Mend for dinner.'
Just the way she said the word friend made me feel a rush of sympathy for Maggie.
'Joel!' she called into the house behind her. 'Maggie's brought a guest!'
I stepped out of the car and adjusted my collar. 'Hello,' I said. I'm
Father Michael.'
Maggie's mother's hand went to her throat. 'Oh, God.'
'Close,' I replied, 'but no cigar.'
At that moment, Maggie's father came hurrying out the front door, tucking in his dress shirt. 'Mags,' he said, folding her into a bear hug, which was when I noticed his yarmulke. Then he turned to me and held out a hand. I'm Rabbi Bloom.'
'You could have told me your father was a rabbi,' I whispered to
Maggie.
'You didn't ask.' She looped her arm through her father's. 'Daddy, this is Father Michael. He's a heretic.'
'Please tell me you're not dating him,' Mrs. Bloom murmured.
'Ma, he's a priest. Of course I'm not.' Maggie laughed as they headed toward the house. 'But I bet that street performer who asked me out is starting to look a lot more palatable to you...'
That left two of us, men of God, standing awkwardly on the driveway.
Rabbi Bloom led the way into the house, toward his study. 'So,' he said. 'Where's your congregation?'
'Concord,' I said. 'St. Catherine's.'
'And you met my daughter how?'
I'm Shay Bourne's spiritual advisor.'
He glanced up. 'That must be unnerving.'
'It is,' I said. 'On many levels.'
'So is he or isn't he?'
'Donating his heart? That's going to be up to your daughter, I think.'
The rabbi shook his head. 'No, no. Maggie, she could move a mountain if she wanted to, one molecule at a time. I meant is he or isn't he Jesus?'
I blinked. 'I never figured I'd hear that question from a rabbi.'
'Jesus was a Jewish man, after all. Just look at the evidence: he lived at home, went into his dad's business, thought his mother was a virgin, and his mother thought he was God.' Rabbi Bloom grinned, and
I started to smile.
'Well, Shay's not preaching what Jesus did.'
The rabbi laughed. 'And you were around the first time to know this for sure?'
'I know what it says in scripture.'
'I never understood people-Jewish or Christian-who read the
Bible as if it were hard evidence. Gospel means good news. It's a way to update the story, to fit the audience you're telling it to.'
'I don't know if I'd say that Shay Bourne's here to update the story of Christ for the modem generation,' I
