Three to one, p.9
Three To One, page 9
“How much is this?”
She looked at him like he was crazy. “That? Man, you can have that. No charge.”
Vince walked out of the store ten feet tall. He held the bible by his side, getting the feel of the soft leather, and the weight. He looked down at it, admiring how cool the ribbons looked. Now he needed some proper clothing, and he’d be ready. She had the perfect bible, and she gave it to him for free. Vince knew for sure, it was a sign.
Dr. Stevens listened attentively as Maggie laid out her concerns. When Dr. Stevens had her first day here, Maggie had been a member of the faculty for fifteen years. So even though she was technically a subordinate, she was someone who commanded a good deal of respect, and she had a personality that would bristle at any sign of being taken for granted.
“…So that is why I feel you must take definitive action to curtail this young man before he does real harm to our students.”
Dr. Stevens smiled, and nodded.
“Have you spoken of this to Dean Callandahl?”
“He won’t listen. This place would burn to the ground before he takes any kind of action. You would do well to keep your eye on him as well. Bill’s asleep at the wheel.”
“I understand your concerns, Maggie. And while I think your assessment of Bill’s performance as Dean is rather harsh, I do support you in your concerns about keeping the philosophy here at the institute unambiguous. But may I offer some insight, which might ease your fears somewhat?”
“You can try.”
“I had a face to face meeting with Professor Faulk, concerning this very topic. I asked him pointed questions, and I am convinced that he does not attend church and has not for most of his life. He seemed baffled when I told him a student had expressed concerns.”
“Aha. So, I’m not the first person to bring this to your attention.”
“The first was a student, who I think misinterpreted something Professor Faulk said during a lecture.”
“And I suppose you think that I’ve misinterpreted something he said as well?”
“Maggie, I’m not saying that. What I’m saying is that I spoke with him myself, and he was shocked that someone saw him as a religious person. He does not have any religious affiliation whatever. He’s just a young man exploring his way through the world. Let’s give him some time to sort things out.”
“He has deeply-held convictions about mingling science and religion. He went as far as to assert that Einstein was a religious person.”
“If he follows Einstein, he will be fine.”
“If he misrepresents Einstein, he could have a serious detrimental effect on the development of our students. And I’m saying that as a Doctor of Psychology.”
Maggie pulling out the big guns. She could be a bit of a drama queen.
“I’ll tell you what, Maggie. I will keep an open ear for any more concerns. But I’m quite sure he is just a young man getting a feel for this new job of his.”
“And I’ll tell you what, Dr. Stevens, that young man is a closet creationist, disguised as a liberal professor. If you ignore these warnings, great harm will come to some of the young people entrusted to our care.”
“Please, Maggie, I’m asking that you show a little restraint on this issue. He is very new to his role of professor. Give him some time to sort it out.”
“You may give him time if you want, but I am telling you here and now, that I will not allow that young upstart to undo the progress which has been so carefully accomplished over the last two decades. If you won’t take action, I will.”
Around 11:45am, Father John was deep in thought as he opened the door of the church and stepped through. He was thinking of the years spent discerning his vocation prior to entering the seminary. Now, it was as if he was doing the same thing all over again. He wanted nothing more than to be a good, and holy priest. But it seemed like he was failing at it. He could feel himself weakening. He was tired deep in his soul. For some reason, he paused, and thought about doors. No two were the same. These doors leading into the church were very different from the doors to the church office. They were only a few yards apart, and yet, they were completely different.
The doors to the office brought the ebb and flow of Christian ministry. There, one ring of the doorbell brought joy, the next sadness. One bell brought marriage planning, the next a request for divorce. One bell was a request for infant baptism, the next, a request for help planning a funeral. One bell brought life, the next death. There was a rhythm to it, like the ebb and flow of waves on a shore. It could be stressful, but the poetry of it was beautiful and profound.
The doors to the church building, offered something different. When throngs of people were present, the place was filled with a sizzling energy. Rather than a rhythm, it was a rich kind of chaos. They were talking excitedly all at once about the new baby, the new job, the great windfall, the engagement ring, the tremendous blessing, and at the same time others were crying about the loss of a child, the death of a parent, the discovery of the disease, the treachery of a spouse, the loss of the job, and the schism within their family. The full power of human existence was present, but not as ebb and flow. When the congregation was gathered in the church, it was as if time had collapsed in upon itself, and the whole of human experience was present in the same instant. The old, the young, the unborn, and the deceased were all here, present and palpable, united in sending broad streams of prayer flowing outward to the Father.
It was chaos, but also completeness. It was… it was disorienting for the priest, exhausting at times, people gathering around to speak to you, each bringing their piece of the whole, but all at once, surrounding you, overwhelming you. The one constant was love. Love won, love lost, love restored, love sought, love given, love received. It was an amazing experience, and one you cannot find anywhere, except when you are deeply involved with a vibrant parish congregation. Could he really give all of that up?
He wondered if that was how God saw the world. No compartments, no ebb and flow, no timeline, just now. Every facet of humanity, good, bad, pure, vile, selfless and selfish, all blended together, to become one beautiful thing, so complex it was simple. For a human, it was overwhelming, but it would not be that way for God. He contains all of it, absorbs it, nourishes it, breathes it in, and breathes into it. He doesn’t just love, he is love, and yet he isn’t anything, he just IS. I Am Who Am. Mind boggling.
Today, the church was quiet, and peaceful. There was still a powerful presence, but different. The place filled to brimming with the silent echoes of all past gatherings, the residual holiness of every sacrament ever celebrated, every hymn ever sung, every prayer ever whispered, every tear that ever fell. For a century and a half, humans had been drawn to this very spot, fingers reaching, straining to reach out of the void of earthly existence, trying in their own private hearts to experience the power of a touch from the finger of God. All those prayers, tears of joy and pain, laughter and sobs, hearts opened and poured out, and the Spirit poured into them, a hundred and fifty Easter candles come and gone.
Countless baptisms, weddings, funerals, anniversaries, birthdays, holy days… had changed this place. It was no longer just a piece of real estate. This was hallowed ground. And inexplicably, in this moment in history, that legacy of holiness had been entrusted to him, John Bianchi, to shepherd. The thought of failing was too dreadful to consider. He stood for a moment, breathing in the complete absence of sound. He could feel it. The silent presence that filled this place. All the being that had occurred here, embraced, absorbed and contained by the very essence of being itself. He felt a slight shudder. He walked on soft soles across the vestibule and opened the door to the sanctuary.
Two banks of old wooden pews, stained a deep walnut color, framed a long aisle, which led his eye forward. There was the reassuring red glow of the tabernacle candle, indicating the presence of God, the huge crucifix, a reminder that God had already paid the ultimate price to reconcile us to himself, and further up, between the high gothic arches, a large dome, adorned with a scene of Christ ascending to heaven. Far below, silent, and permanent, the stone altar. The ancient symbol of man’s contact point with God. Once only a table of sacrifice, now, in the Christian era, also a table of gathering, of communion with God.
Father John inhaled deeply. There was a faint lingering of incense, and behind that, the subtle scents of wood, stone, and water. Solid, earthy elements. He remembered Father Alex’s voice from seminary.
“The Church keeps its heart straining toward heaven, but its feet are firmly grounded here, in the now experiences of life on Earth.” He inhaled again, then exhaled slowly, letting himself relax. He needed this. Maybe one day he would fail. It was possible. Maybe. But today, he was going to pour himself out as a priest of Christ’s Church. He genuflected before the blessed sacrament and slowly made the sign of the cross on himself. With a deep sense of peace in his heart, he went to the side aisle, and opened the door to the reconciliation room. He lit a simple candle and flipped the switch which turned on the small light outside the door. He prayed quietly while he waited for someone to arrive. He didn’t have to wait long.
September 12
Peregrine was eating at the food court, eating alone, as usual. He didn’t mind. The tablet in front of him and the free wi-fi provided a nearly infinite supply of fascinating reading material. Students were coming and going, book bags being dropped beside tables and cans of soda being opened. There was laughter, lively conversation, and a general atmosphere of positive human interaction. Even though he was not really a part of it, he enjoyed being around it.
“There you are.”
He looked up and saw a frowning countenance.
“Professor Blumstein. How are you?”
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
“Okay?”
“I spoke with Provost Stevens about you.”
“You did?”
“I understand students have been complaining about you pushing your creationist views in class lectures.”
“I am only aware of a single student.”
“And you lied to Dr. Stevens, when she asked you a direct question.”
“No, I did not. Hold on. How do you know what was said between Dr. Stevens and myself?”
“She told me. You don’t think I have clout around here? I was here before you were born.”
“Okay…”
“And it is a breach of ethics to lie to a superior member of the staff, especially on a matter of such importance.”
“Professor Blumstein, I respect you, and I acknowledge your authority. But I don’t think you have any right to call me a liar. I was completely forthcoming with Dr. Stevens and answered every question truthfully.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, Ma’am, it is.”
“Well, I have a question for you, and I want a direct answer. Are you or are you not a creationist?”
Peregrine felt a coldness in his center. His fingers were tingling.
“I don’t even know what you mean by that term.”
“Stop being evasive! Do you or do you not believe the universe was created by an act of some invisible being?”
“I believe the universe evolved. Over a tremendously long timeline.”
“That doesn’t sound like what you said when we were out for drinks.”
“Well, that is what I believe.” There. All he had to do was shut his mouth right now, and he’d be out of it, free and clear. But something about her annoying accusations had sparked a little fire that was expanding and replacing the cold feeling inside him.
“That is your sincere belief?”
“Yes. My sincere belief is that through a long evolutionary process, the universe was created under the guiding hand of some type of infinite intelligence. I am a scientist. I am open to discovery. If you can find a way to disprove my hypothesis, using the scientific method, I will adjust my understanding of the universe to align with the data.”
“So, you are a closet creationist. Admit it.”
“I reject that label, whatever it means. I am a scientist. If you want to apply a label to me, apply that one.”
“Hmmf.”
“Professor Blumstein, I have some reading I need to do. Is there anything else?”
“Only this. Know that I am onto you. You may be able to fool others with your circular answers, and your careful wording, but I am not so easily hoodwinked. You are going to slip up, and mark my words, when you do, I will be there to make certain you pay the price for your duplicity. I wouldn’t get too comfortable on campus if I were you. I have a sense you won’t be here long.”
She spun on her short, blocky heels, and clacked her way out of the room. Only then did Peregrine realize that every student in the food court was staring at him.
September 13
Now Vince had it all. The black suit didn’t cost him but ten bucks at the Good Samaritan store, and it fit everywhere, except the bottom of the pants and the ends of the sleeves. They were a little too short. But the coat had a secret pocket inside that was perfect for holding a half-pint bottle. He took a little nip, to get some inspiration going. This was the day he was gonna do it. He was gonna stop thinking about it and start making a difference in the world. All he had to do was figure out who to deliver his message to first. It seemed plain that it needed to be a sinner. Change one sinner at a time, you should be able to change the whole stinking world, especially if you could recruit some followers to help you.
A block ahead, he saw a group of gang bangers jaywalking across the street. They were for sure sinners, but they wasn’t hurting nobody, and plus, it wasn’t likely he’s going to be able to save a whole group of people all at once, at least not until he’d had some practice. They walked up to a small, scrawny homeless looking guy, and struck up what looked like a friendly conversation. The homeless dude put his back to the wall, standing next to a green dumpster, and looked up at the big one, looked like the leader.
They talked for a little bit, but the small guy started getting mouthy, and the big guy started getting mad. Why do small guys always gotta get mouthy like that? Then, one of the other bangers tries to take a shot at the little guy, but the big guy decked him, put him right on his back.
See, that’s what this world needs more of. Even though the little guy’s mouthing off, the big guy protected him from a member of his own gang. If everybody would be like that, the world would be a better place. But even after the big guy protected him, the little guy kept getting mouthy. It went back and forth, until finally the big guy got tired of the little guy’s mouth and shoved him against the brick wall. The homeless-looking guy stood and scowled at them as they walked away.
Vince figured it was probably a sign. He was the one. Vince backtracked a little bit, crossed the street, and waited by the side of the building, for the homeless guy to turn the corner. When he did, Vince pointed the bible at him, with an outstretched arm, and said “I been watching you.”
“Yeh? So?” the homeless guy said.
“You are on the path to perdition, young man.”
The homeless guy side-stepped, but Vince stepped in front of him again.
“I am here to save your immortal soul.” It felt so good to say it, Vince knew he had finally found his true calling.
Two weeks into the semester, Professor Faulk was sitting at a table by himself in a pizza parlor on a Friday evening. A lonely business, being the youngest faculty member on campus. Most of his peers on the faculty were his dad’s age or older. Not that he would be unwelcome at some of the impromptu gatherings that happened after work. He wasn’t. If anything, most of the older professors went out of their way to make him feel welcome. Peregrine tapped his tablet, opened the browser tab for World Scientific, to read a few articles while he waited for his pizza.
He had joined the other staff members a few times, but the conversation followed a predictable cycle. Interesting talk about funding research, or upcoming projects, maybe the latest publication of note. Peregrine enjoyed those conversations. But inevitably, after an hour or so, maybe a few beers, the conversation would shift to what university their children were attending, or sometimes even what their grandchildren were doing. At that point, he was lost, a man at sea alone. Trying to extricate himself without seeming rude, or anti-social, was awkward. He browsed the table of contents, looking for an interesting article.
“Professor Faulk is that you?”
The gorgeous young woman from the front row of his survey class. Miss Jorgensen. D. Jorgensen.
“Oh, hi. Yes, how are you?”
“It’s me, professor, Dove Jorgensen.”
Dove? How cute is that? He thought. The most beautiful little bird God ever created, and her parents named her Dove.
“Yes, of course, I –”
“Are you here by yourself, Professor Faulk?”
“Uh- Yes, I’m waiting for my order.” He wondered how a professor is supposed to interact with a student during a chance meeting in public.
“I was getting ready to order. What a happy coincidence.”
My Lord, she really is beautiful, He thought. A natural genetic beauty, emitting goodness and sincerity.
“Professor Faulk?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want you to think I am saying this to get on your good side, but your lecture on that first day of class was the most inspiring and informative opening lecture I’ve had here.”
He felt himself warming, and hoped his skin was not flushing.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“But it did raise a question for me.”
“Oh?”
“I was puzzled why you mentioned the DNA in Mitochondria, specifically. I think I understand now, but would you confirm for me if I have it right?”
