The Last Day (53 page)

“I therefore decree to you,
ex cathedra,
that this woman, known to the world as Jeza of Israel, is
not
a New Messiah;
nor
a New Christ;
nor
a prophetess of God. Rather, that she is the False One of whom the Bible prophesies. She is the enemy of truth and the greatest of immoralities against which the faithful have been preparing for two millennia. She is the Great Antagonist, the Profane Seductress, the Harlot of Babylon—

“Jeza of Israel is the Antichrist!”

With that terrifying pronouncement, the pent-up, visceral desperation and hysteria that had been coiling ever tighter since the turn of the millennium was suddenly released. The cathedral disintegrated into uncontrolled panic and disorder.

“We must rally together the army of God!” the pope exhorted his troops over the bedlam. “We must oppose this Jeza in every manner possible, fighting this evil to the death, body and soul, with every ounce of our strength until the Lord Jesus Christ comes in judgment to relieve us!”

Feldman buried his face in his hands as the huge basilica reverberated with soulful agitation. Why he had not anticipated this Antichrist ploy, he did not know. It was, perhaps, a predictable next step in such a ruthless, relentless war of one-upmanship. And sadly, as this bizarre, see-saw battle lurched toward its finale, it would appear as if the Church had just dealt the Messiah a staggering blow.

Feldman was appalled and furious.

And worried. Not only was more world conflict now inevitable, Feldman also knew that Jeza's life was in serious danger.

Presiding over the disrupted cathedral, the pope endeavored to regain control. He accomplished this masterfully by invoking the promise of Christ's “One Thousand Year Glorious Reign,” commanding the crowd to calm themselves immediately to receive a special “atonement” blessing. Desperately dependent on the Church for survival now, the faithful responded in short order, with fearful compliance.

Amid the myriad emotions coursing through him, Feldman was dimly aware of a presence to his right. In preparation for the forthcoming interview, a WNN assistant had seated Cardinal di Concerci in the empty chair next to Feldman. The reporter, flushed with anger and amazement at what he'd just heard, turned to face the prefect's characteristically unwavering gaze. A gaze edged this time with the slightest tinge of victorious self-satisfaction.

Feldman did not wait for Nicholas to finish his benediction, nor for the cameras to switch over for the live interview. Reeling from the
ex cathedra
pronouncement, Feldman confronted the cardinal.

“Do you have any idea what you've done?” he cried out. “Your Church has just set the entire world on a bloodletting. A rampage! This decree of yours is a death sentence for Jeza!”

Erin Cross, who'd been sitting to the other side of Feldman, engrossed with the pope's startling edict, was jolted back to reality by the spontaneous eruption at her side. She laid a placating hand on Feldman's arm, to no avail.

As if dealing from a position of superior strength, the prefect responded calmly and dryly. “That's a surprising observation coming from a representative Of WNN, given that your network is singularly more responsible for the rise of world tensions than any other factor.”

WNN's directors and camera crews, caught completely off-guard by the untimely start of the interview, were all facing in the opposite direction toward the pope. Frantically they came about, making confused, self-absolving gestures to one another, undecided as to whether they should interrupt the imbroglio and restart the interview, or simply pick up the altercation in progress. But the look on Feldman's face told them there was no going back. Cameras were hurriedly swiveled into position, lights switched on, cables kicked out of the way, boom microphones lowered. Erin was waved off the set to leave the two combatants alone in the ring.

“It doesn't matter anymore who's responsible for the world tensions,” Feldman snapped as the cameras zoomed in on his taut face. “What matters is that you're in a position to quell the violence. Instead, you call for Armageddon! Just consider the incredible human suffering this will cause.”

The cardinal didn't hesitate. “If it's God's will that there be human suffering, then it's hardly within the province of the Church to interfere.”

The newsman was astonished. “Surely it isn't God's will for there to be more violence and senseless killings?”

“Neither you nor I can presume about God's intent, nor sit in judgment of it,” the prefect declared with finality. “Do you think that Lot of the Old Testament understood God's annihilation of Sodom and Gomorrah? Or that Noah could fully comprehend God's anger as the rising floods inundated all the peoples of the world? It's not man's place to question the workings of the Almighty!”

Feldman was no match for di Concerci, and he knew it. His outrage had caused him to charge prematurely into this battle, unarmed, unthinking. Anxiously he searched beyond the glare of lights for his tag-team partner, but Mordachai Hirschberg was nowhere to be seen.

Feldman parried. “Your turning one man against another isn't an act of God. No one has authority to do that.”

Di Concerci reclined in his chair, in complete command. “Mr. Feldman, the
Church
is an act of God. The Church, with all its human flaws your network is so fond of pointing out, is, nevertheless, God's instrument on earth; established personally by Jesus Christ to guide the faithful and to instruct them in the ways of the Lord.

“If you were to fully appreciate this, you'd realize that the decree
ex cathedra
is not a political document. It was not uttered in defense of property or position, as some will no doubt claim. It's the result of intense spiritual meditation, consecrated by Divine Revelation.”

As the cardinal spoke, Feldman grabbed a notepad from the coffee table, frantically scribbling: “Where's the Rabbi? Get him
now!”
and passed the note off-camera to a stagehand.

“God has spoken to His Church, Mr. Feldman, directly and clearly,” di Concerci continued. “And the decree, however disquieting it may be, is very much the will of God.”

Feldman's face had steadily darkened and he was starting to sound strident. “Even presuming the decree is the Will of God,” he argued, “is it necessary for man to carry out God's retribution? I thought ‘Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord’ was a pretty decent concept, myself.” He ransacked his mind, sorting through his limited store of scripture. “What about ‘Love thy neighbor as thyself?’ and, ‘Thou shalt not kill!’ In branding Jeza the Antichrist, the Church has just condemned her to death. How can you live with that knowledge?”

“You let appearances blind you to the diabolical truth, my young friend,” the cardinal replied, a look of sincere concern developing on his face. “What more cunning a ruse could Satan concoct than to fashion his messenger in the form of an attractive young woman? A seemingly innocent, defenseless little woman. Yet a woman with amazing powers of magnetism, oratory and authority. A woman who can look inside your very soul and know everything about you—your weaknesses, your sympathies, your vulnerabilities.” His eyes bored into Feldman's with accusation and his voice inflected knowingly: “—
how to seduce you and manipulate you!”

This observation stopped the reporter cold. With effort, Feldman was able to shake off the disconcerting images the prefect had so forcefully planted. But he realized be had little reserve left. He could no longer sustain a theological argument. Without the rabbi, Feldman had only one hope for reversing the seemingly inexorable direction of this lopsided debate. Inhaling deeply, he gained control of his anger, squared his shoulders to the camera and turned his resolute eyes on the world of frantic viewers glued to their TV sets.

“In my entire career as a reporter,” Feldman declared clearly and forcefully, “I've never once attempted to interject my own editorial opinions into my work. Unbiased news coverage has always been at the core of everything I value as a journalist. But tonight, in light of what I've just witnessed, I cannot remain passive anymore. I can no longer sit here and let the fate of this innocent woman, Jeza, and her followers, turn on the provocative, false, self-serving charges being leveled against her.

“Obviously, I'm ill equipped to argue scripture with this learned cardinal here. I have no formal religious background. But there is one relevant skill I bring to this debate: my knowledge and expertise as a trained observer. I'm a reporter. A professional journalist, experienced in seeking out and recognizing the truth. And in exercising that one qualification I do have, I'd like to make an important observation to all of you who've been watching these disturbing proceedings.

“By a remarkable stroke of fortune, I've had the opportunity to assess Jeza more closely and personally than any other human being alive, beginning with her very first public address nearly three months ago. With that unique and privileged perspective, I feel I'm more qualified, by far, to define her than any of her accusers.

“I can solemnly attest to you that
none
of the arguments advanced by the Vatican tonight ring true. None of them spring from direct observations of Jeza. They are all theoretical. Academic. So much theological speculation.

“None of these arguments serve to evaluate Jeza in the fairest, most credible way possible—from time spent with her; watching her gentleness with children; her kindness with the elderly; her sensitivity and generosity to the poor and the ill and the helpless. None of these arguments take into consideration the warm, heartfelt response she elicits from people with whom she's directly shared her message.

“I must tell you that the Jeza I've seen is a very different Jeza than the one this pope and cardinal paint for you tonight. The Jeza I've come to know and appreciate isn't evil. She's not deceiving, cunning or hateful. The Jeza I know is loving and empathetic. A very sensitive person, deeply upset by the hypocrisy, self-righteousness, materialism and politics that she sees permanently fixed in the structures of the world's established religions—”

Boldly interrupting, di Concerci regained the camera, directly addressing the world audience himself. “You must bear in mind that Satan is the master defrauder! He speaks in compelling half truths to achieve his ulterior purposes. While it may appear that Jeza serves a higher purpose in exposing the human failings of our world religions, to what end is this? Not true reformation. She doesn't seek to ‘clean out the temple’ as Christ did. She seeks to
destroy
it. To destroy religion as we know it! Look at the results of her work. Is the world a better place? Are people more moral? Happier? Better off than before her coming? Most certainly not!

“Indeed, when you look at the pervasive deterioration that's occurred in the world as a result of her brief ministry, you see the dangerous cunning and true genius of Satan. And that's why it is clear, beyond any question, that the Second Coming is upon us. Circumstances are so hopelessly degenerated, there is only one person with the power and the glory to restore this earthly community to normality again. And that person is most certainly
not
Jeza!”

Feldman's eyes implored the camera for reason. “I cannot sit here and tell you that I know for certain whether Jeza is or is not sent from God as some new Messiah. In all my time and dealings with her, I still don't know the answer to that great question. But what I can tell you is what I firmly believe in my heart. And that is this:
at the very worst,
this little, isolated woman is not someone deserving of all the hatred and violence that's been stirred up around her.
At the very worst,
she's nothing more than a well-meaning, intelligent, tragically deluded human being. Not some sinister, diabolical creature, but a truly unique, extraordinary person—an innocent victim, robbed of her childhood, separated from her family, denied her humanity and her identity. Misguided and caught up in a charade that casts her in an impossible role. A tragic role with dire consequences for herself and for all mankind”—anger surged in his voice and he pointed accusingly at the cardinal beside him—“if you listen to this man!”

He consciously composed himself, appealing directly to the camera once again. “All I ask of any of you is one very reasonable and simple request: I ask only that you wait. That's all. Just wait. Do nothing. Take no actions, make no decisions, just wait. If God is indeed calling down His Judgment on us, it will all become very apparent soon enough. Without any man-made violence and bloodshed to obscure it.”

“It's apparent already!” di Concerci came storming back, his eyes flashing.

“It is
not
apparent!” a faltering, breathless voice from off camera vehemently insisted. “The Final Signs are not yet in evidence.”

Requiring the assistance of two WNN staff members, a deathly pale, afflicted but determined Rabbi Hirschberg made his way slowly to his chair. Feldman would have been relieved if it hadn't been for the rabbi's alarming appearance.

“Rabbi!” Feldman leaped to his elder's assistance.

“It's all right now,” Hirschberg asserted with a grimace, gingerly taking his seat and motioning Feldman back to his. “We have more important concerns at the moment.”

Feldman was not reassured, but hesitantly acceded to the rabbi's wishes. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced to his world audience, “may I introduce to you the distinguished biblical authority and spiritual leader of the Lubavitcher movement of Hasidic Jews, Rabbi Mordachai Hirschberg.”

If the prefect was surprised by this unannounced intruder, or if he felt more challenged by an adversary with worthy credentials, it didn't show. Di Concerci curtly nodded his acknowledgment of the rabbi, who warily returned the gesture.

Despite his apparent infirmity, it was obvious Hirschberg was not about to shrink from his mission. “I must tell you, Cardinal di Concerci,” he rasped between breaths, indignation replacing discomfort in his face, “in all candor, while I respect your pontiff and his office, I am appalled by what I've heard here tonight. I must concur with this young man's observations. There's no need to escalate the confrontation. Why can't you do as Mr. Feldman here suggests? Why can't you simply wait and let the predicted Final Signs of your Apocalypse manifest themselves before you condone this destructive course of action?”