Saints and Relics

By John Kelly

A casket containing a remarkable relic of a 17th century nun, Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque, is stolen from a devout society in France by one of its members, a priest from Sydney. The priest, Father James, secretly entrusts the casket to two women in Monterey Creek, a small country town in New South Wales. The Society immediately sends Monsignor Henri Pascal from Paris to recover the casket.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Kelly
• Release date: Jul 23, 2009
• ISBN: 9781452301655

John Kelly

John Kelly, who holds a graduate degree in European history, is the author and coauthor of ten books on science, medicine, and human behavior, including Three on the Edge, which Publishers Weekly called the work of "an expert storyteller." He lives in New York City.

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Saints and Relics.

A Novel

SAINTS AND RELICS

JOHN KELLY

By the same author:

SATAN’S LITTLE HELPERS

ANDREA’S SECRET

HIROSHIMA SUNSET

"He told me to write it in my blood according as He dictated it to me; I then signed it on my heart, writing thereon the Sacred Name of Jesus, with a penknife."

Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque

Published by Aquinine Books

51 Roy Street, Donvale

Victoria, 3111 Australia.

www.members.optusnet.com.au/~xjbkelly

Except for two brief quotations from the Autobiography of Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque, this book is a work of fiction. The characters and incidents portrayed are the product of the author’s imagination and are not real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons or real organisations similar in name and description, is purely coincidental.

Originally published in 2007 as ‘Monterey Creek’

Copyright © 2007 by John B Kelly

Copyright © 2009 by John B Kelly

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

Author:            Kelly, John Bernard, 1945-

Title:             Saints and Relics  / John Kelly.

ISBN:              9780646512310 (pbk.)

Dewey Number:      A823.4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner, without the written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations contained in critical articles or reviews.

Cover Image ‘Wandering’ reproduced with the permission of Melbourne Artist, Barbara McManus FVAS. AGRA.

Saints and Relics

1.

Father Andrew James was nearly seventy-seven years of age and in remarkably good health. He put it down to his single-mindedness, the absence of uncertainty in his life, sober habits, and to God’s good grace. He was a short fellow with gentle blue eyes, grey hair and a commanding voice that compensated his feeble handshake. When he entered the seminary straight out of secondary college at age eighteen, the Catholic Church was at its zenith in power and influence. The middle of the twentieth century was a time when churches were full, respect for the clergy was at an all time high, and seminaries around the world were full of bright young men eager to dedicate their lives to the greater glory of God.

While there were those in academic circles who felt the Church had become flawed, with too much emphasis on dogma and too little on ministry, Andrew James was not one of them. He was a bullish character with a conservative mind, and after his ordination entered diocesan parish life full of enthusiasm and eagerness. He was ready to tackle the task at hand, to put his training to the test, and guide the hearts and minds of Catholics in the one true faith, whether they liked it or not. He was dedicated to the Church and its canon law and dogmas. He thrust himself into the business of saving souls in a world he perceived as being in moral, political and economic decay. To him, the Catholic Church was the world’s only means of salvation.

He was fluent in French, the legacy of his mother who came from Burgundy, and he travelled there frequently over the years to visit and maintain family ties. He loved France; he loved village life, the community, the simplicity and the devotion to the saints demonstrated by street parades and feast days.

Early in his priestly life however, the Church signalled a new direction and the certainty of once permanent ideologies began to crumble. Pope John XX111 opened the windows to encourage new thinking and fresh approaches; the aggiornamento. There were many who disagreed with him. Many clergy felt the Church had taken the wrong path in its reform. This unexpected development in the Church took Father James by surprise and he struggled to adapt. Allowing the uneducated masses the luxury of thinking for themselves was counter to his concept of ecclesiastical superiority. He continued in his role however, but was not always obedient to the wishes of the hierarchy. He never felt comfortable with the more relaxed approach toward the primacy of conscience or the preference for compassion over discipline. At times, he was belligerent even to the point of defiance. Over the years, he maintained a stubborn discipline, holding firmly to the staunch religious attitudes of Pope Pius X and the battle against modernism. Not surprisingly, he joined Opus Dei as an associate, attracted by its rigid discipline, its insistence on obedience to authority, and its mission to promote sanctity in the workforce. He judged the direction he saw the world heading, as a vindication of all that he and Opus Dei stood for and defended, and wasn’t about to be seduced by the new liberalism. He clung to his traditional beliefs and values.

The years passed and in due course Father James was appointed a parish priest in the Sydney Archdiocese, although his ultra conservative values and abrasive manner had won him few friends in high places. Finally, he fell out of favour at the Diocesan centre when a complaint was received that he was refusing to allow the third rite of reconciliation. The matter was resolved by having him dispatched to the ‘bush’ as the parish priest of Saint Francis de Sales in the small town of Monterey Creek, known fairly widely for its annual Festival of the Flowers, but for little else. At Monterey Creek, Father James felt more at home, freed from the chains of conformity. It gave him the opportunity to run his parish in his own way with minimal interference from outside influences. He felt in control among country people, equating them with those villagers in France that he like and admired. In his first year, he was deeply impressed with the community involvement generated by the annual festival. It reminded him of community life in France. A number of the organizers were members of his parish and he encouraged them to expand the activities of the festival to include a street parade, with each group, school, service organization, and church submitting a float to pass down the main street ending at Remembrance Park. There, a carnival of sorts would begin and continue with dancing into the night. The organizers took the suggestion on board, although it took a few years to properly develop the idea. Each year the festival continued to grow and commercial interests from the surrounding locations joined in. More and more floats took part in the street parade and more attractions developed at Remembrance Park. There was the merry-go-round, the food stalls, the art exhibition, the parent and child one mile relay, the firemen’s tug of war and the teenage singing contest. As the momentum gathered, the townsfolk never really noticed that the float entered by Saint Francis de Sales had been altered to present less of a community theme in favour of items displaying a more religious motif. Each year a subtle inclusion of religious fervour adorned the float. Each year, Father James would push the envelope that little bit further. He encouraged the organizers to open the carnival with a non-denominational prayer service and one year successfully proposed the prayer be led by the Diocesan Bishop. On that day, he cleverly included the statue of Our Lady of Fatima on the church float, and positioned three young children kneeling at the base. As a result, the festival took on the unintended appearance of a religious and decidedly Catholic affair. It was typical of the way Father James promoted his God in the district. Country parishes moved somewhat slower than the city. At Saint Francis de Sales, nobody thought much about it when Father James actively promoted the nine first Fridays, the five first Saturdays and the Novena to the Sacred Heart, devotions which had largely disappeared from most parishes. He had a passionate commitment to these devotions, but generally ignored many of the changes introduced by the Second Vatican Council. He even said the Latin mass in private, gathering around him a small band of loyal supporters such as Maud Baker and Dorothy Proctor who shared his conservative attitudes and who became cooperators of Opus Dei. When Father James first arrived as the new parish priest, Maud Baker had been pleased to see a strong conservative priest take over. That’s what the town needed, she said more than once.

It was on one of his trips to France, visiting relatives in the town of Janots, in Burgundy, that Father James was urged by his cousin to attend a meeting of a society of like-minded Catholic laymen and clergy. He was introduced to Jean Paul Colombière, a young businessman in the town of Paray-le-Monial. That society meeting had the most profound effect on Father James and at its conclusion, he had consented to be nominated as its eighth member, replacing one who had passed away suddenly. The society he had joined was the SVE, the ‘Société de la Vérité Eternelle,’ the Society of Eternal Truth, and his succession had been well thought through by the existing members before he was invited by his cousin to attend their bi-annual gathering. With Father James now a part of SVE, their membership was restored and continued to dedicate itself to guard and protect certain relics of Paray-le-Monial.

Passed down by dedicated believers over three hundred years since the death of Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque, the relics the society held and protected were separate from those held by the Convent of the Visitation at Paray-le-Monial. They were kept in secret, and spirited away from the Convent shortly after the death of Saint Margaret Mary in 1690. The chronicle held by the society showed that the relics were hidden by one Sister Péronne Rosalie de Farges who, fearful that those who resented the dead nun would discard them as preposterous, and the fruit of outrageous presumption, said nothing of their existence. She arranged to have them smuggled out of the convent and placed into the hands of trusted family members. From this simple act of faith, a handful of devoted individuals and groups accepted the awesome responsibility of guarding the relics and passing them on down through the generations. The tradition continued to the present day.

On returning to Australia, Father James confided with Maud Baker and Dorothy Proctor on his appointment to the SVE and the nature of the relics held by the society. As a reward for their loyalty, Maud and Dorothy enjoyed special status, referred to as ‘Friends of SVE’. Although they were never introduced to the governing body or played any part in its decision making processes, they were encouraged to participate in prayers and novenas to the Sacred Heart and Father James saw to it that they received occasional pieces of information from the management at Paray.

2.

But while Father James had friends, his abrasive, bullish manner, and his intolerance for dissident ideas caused some to turn against him. He encouraged the youth of Monterey Creek to sign up and take the pledge, a commitment not to drink alcohol until the age of twenty-five. Understandably, in a country town, there were few takers and plenty of mockery. Much of it came from Maud’s husband, Harry Baker, a lapsed Catholic, and his protestant friend Sam Spent, two Vietnam veterans who never suffered from too serious an attitude to anything. Harry was never strong in the faith, a situation reinforced by his Vietnam experiences, but in the early years of his marriage to Maud he maintained the appearance of a practising Catholic. He continued to accompany his wife to Sunday mass, but avoided the confessional. He respected Maud’s religious fervour but found reasons not to join her when she attended her special devotions, such as benediction and prayer meetings.

Early into the marriage, Maud fell pregnant and gave birth to a daughter, Allison. Harry was besotted by the child but as Maud became more religious, he felt that they were drifting apart. Allison then became the focal point and principal joy of his life. As the years passed, the pressure continued to build on the marriage. Harry became less interested and found solace with Sam Spent and friends, drinking at the Bush Bar Hotel.

Sam Spent was a rogue of a fellow, stout and rugged, with a wonderful sense of humour, a generous liberal protestant heart, and a weakness for the ladies. His problems began when he returned from Vietnam, and purchased a Saw Mill, taking out a huge mortgage. In all the excitement, he forgot to insure any of it. Just one year later, the mill burnt to the ground. Two days later, his wife left him, taking their two boys and he was given temporary shelter at the local Anglican Church vicarage.

Not long after, his father died and on the day of the funeral he introduced two of his brothers to two elderly pensioners he met through his association with the local church seniors group. When his brothers were found guilty of embezzling the two elderly pensioners out of their life savings and given 10 year sentences, the parson who had given him refuge felt his presence somewhat compromising and he had to leave. He moved onto his brother’s farm with one of his sons.

Things started to improve a year later when his wife returned with their other son to help on the farm and they began raising sheep. They actually made some money that year before the bottom fell out of the wool market. That’s when Sam’s drinking problems began. He found the whiskey settled his nerves but left him with an empty wallet. His wife left him again and moved to Hampton Bells. His two sons however, remained with him on the farm.

Harry’s story was different. While Maud raised Allison in the strict Irish Catholic tradition, he balanced the scales with a more laid-back approach to life. Harry encouraged Allison to challenge anything she neither agreed with, nor understood, and he was always at odds with Maud as to the intensity of Catholic teaching at home and in the schools. He claimed that it was too oppressive; too punishment centred, and stifled initiative. Maud thought it was all that stood between salvation and everlasting damnation.

As time passed the young teenager tended to side with her father and proved something of a rebel. There were times when it brought her into conflict with her tutors, the nuns. When she was a senior student in year 12, if she disagreed and found their theology implausible, she said so. ‘Codswallop’ was more often than not her uncensored response. In her teenage years she developed a mind of her own. The nuns despaired.

And Lazarus who had been dead four days, came out of the tomb, the nun taught her students. ‘Codswallop,’ Allison whispered to the girl sitting beside her in class.

On another occasion, the sister claimed, …and his work done, Our Lord was raised up above and ascended into the clouds…

"Codswallop," Allison said out loud to the chuckles of some and the murmurs of others.

Allison Baker, stand up, the sister demanded. Allison obeyed in silence.

What do you mean by that outburst young lady?

Allison was far from fazed and grasped the opportunity to have her say. It’s utterly irrational in this day and age to expect anyone to believe that, sister, she replied fearlessly. It has to be metaphorical. It has to be symbolic. The nuns were horrified. Often notes were sent home to her mother Maud, complaining, or suggesting a firmer approach to the teachings of Holy Mother Church. Maud said she would pray on the matter.

As Allison’s unruly, disrespectful attitude developed, it was suggested that a meeting with Father James might be in order. Perhaps he could demonstrate to her the error of her ways. The nuns, fearing that her carefree expression would expose their own shortcomings, decided not to pursue the matter, and it was dropped into the ‘too hard’ basket.

It was Father James who brought matters to a head when he gave Harry the opportunity to stop practising the faith. Harry had promised to help Sam Spent on the farm one Sunday after mass and arrived at the church dressed in work clothes.

It was Father James’ custom to stand outside the church each Sunday to greet the faithful as they arrived. When he noticed Harry in his work clothes he called him aside.

You’re not coming into my church dressed like that, he said to him arrogantly. Harry was stunned.

As if the Lord cares what people wear to mass, Father, he answered.

You’re not coming in like that, Father James insisted churlishly.

Rather than pursue the matter, Harry took the easy way out.

Okay then, he replied. I won’t.

With that, he left. The priest had to explain to Maud who was standing at the front steps with Allison, what had transpired. Harry waved to Allison, I’ll see you later, pumpkin, he called out as he jumped into his car and left to join Sam on the farm.

He’s a defiant man, Maud. His heart has turned against God, the priest told her. You can’t be expected to change him now. Leave him to Almighty God who will find another way to reach him. Maud, never one to argue with a man of God, took strength from his words. Later that day, Father James subsequently sought out Harry and Sam privately and told them he had no time for their irreverent attitude. That set them against him, and even though the conflict compromised his close spiritual relationship with Maud, Father James was unyielding. Harry never attended church again.

Conscious that she and Harry were drifting apart, Maud became even more devout. She attended prayer meetings at the presbytery weekly with her close friend Dorothy Proctor and supported home rosaries recited before the statue of Our Lady of Fatima. Harry sought refuge at the hotel with Sam Spent. In Maud’s eyes, Sam was a bad influence. Sam and Harry both had a weakness for drink and together, they could solve the problems of the world after a few quick ones on Saturday night at the Bush Bar Hotel. Maud hated drink and hated what it did to Harry. It was a natural extension of her piety and commitment to the Church that she judged Harry’s association with Sam as an occasion of sin. With Maud, now more devout, pious and prayerful, and Harry a seemingly drunken, hopeless case, the end of their marriage was inevitable.

Their daughter Allison was oblivious to what was coming. She saw her father as a kind, loving, jovial fellow who always looked after her and made her laugh. When her father left home one day with no explanation, her mother said it was for the best.

Allison was devastated. She was sixteen at the time and never knew if her father left or her mother threw him out. But she knew that the drink was at the heart of it. Harry was never going to be a farmer. He was a labourer at best and travelled south to Melbourne for work. Labouring opportunities were good. He found a place to rent and kept in touch. He sent Allison letters and cards. He never forgot a birthday. But he never came back. Allison was allowed to spend some of her holidays with him and the occasional weekend. They both loved it. They shared a zest for life. Allison respected her mother’s religious commitment, her pious ways, but was not drawn to imitate her.

She finished school and entered University at Hampton Bells campus. At age twenty she left home to complete her studies in Melbourne. Reunited and living with her father she was happy. Boyfriends came and went, but one in particular left his mark in more ways than one. Nine months later, Amy was born. The boyfriend disappeared, unable to cope, but Harry was there and it was the making of him. He became the quintessential doting grand-father. He scaled down the grog, worked on city construction sites diligently and reliably, supporting Allison and Amy, giving them added security by taking out a mortgage and buying a house for the three of them. Graduating from University, Allison worked as a journalist at a suburban newspaper. The three of them remained together for the next nine years. All this time, Maud Baker remained at Monterey Creek, as housekeeper to Father James. But she was never denied her role as grand-mother. Allison and Amy visited regularly.

It wasn’t until the appointment of Father Michael Ryan as curate at Monterey Creek that the parish was brought up to date with the changes introduced by Vatican 11. He was thirty five, handsome and refreshingly candid. Father Michael introduced the sign of peace, the third rite of reconciliation, preached about a loving, compassionate, forgiving Jesus, and the townsfolk and parish faithful warmed to this young man. Father James made no attempt to reign him in, he knew certain changes had to come, and he appreciated the workload Father Michael assumed. But neither did he change his ways, preferring to let the young curate take care of the liberals while he concentrated on what he thought mattered most. Then, two years after Father Michael arrived, a series of unfortunate events took place within the community of Monterey Creek, events that subsequently extended well beyond its tranquil outskirts. It began when Maud Baker’s health failed. It was her heart, and a call for help went out to Allison.

With Harry’s blessing and her promise that she and Amy would visit him regularly, Allison decided to give up her job at the newspaper in Melbourne and return with Amy to Monterey Creek to care for her mother. As she eased herself and Amy back into the community, and they adjusted to the idea of a single mother in their midst, her closest friend was Sam Spent. He had not mended his ways much but he had always felt partly responsible for the marriage break-up with his boozing and brawling. If Allison needed help in any way around the house, Sam would do it for her. Sam became a de-facto great-uncle to Amy, much to Maud’s horror. Maud drew Amy closer to her for fear of Sam contaminating her immortal soul. Allison did not object. She was distracted by the young curate, Father Michael. She was oblivious to the psychological impact Maud’s religious fervour was having on Amy. She even attended Sunday mass herself now and then, but only when she knew that Father Michael would be the celebrant.

The following year, Father James reached the age of seventy-five, and it was time for him to stand aside and allow Father Michael to take over as parish priest. Times had changed and the aggiornamento of the good Pope John had been methodically restrained, and reigned in. The wheels had turned and were heading back the other way. Retirement beckoned for the old man, but a chronic shortage of priests prompted the new Bishop of the Diocese to offer him a post back in Sydney as an incentive to stay on. He wasn’t to be a parish priest but a part-time assistant in the larger city parish of Saint Eudes. Father James was tired of running a parish and accepted the opportunity to spread his influence among those he perceived as a more sophisticated gathering of the faithful in the city. The workload would be gentle and leave him free to continue his activities with SVE, and also maintain ties with those at Monterey Creek with whom he had developed a close relationship, his two friends, Maud Baker and Dorothy Proctor.

Allison was wary of Father James and delighted at the news that he was retiring to the city. It was only after he left and Father Michael was appointed parish priest that she began to relax her attitude to the Church.

In Father Michael’s first year as parish priest, Allison became an active member of the community and volunteered her services to help organize the Saturday night social for the Festival of the Flowers. She signed up a band to come from Sydney for the night. She promoted the band to the neighbouring towns and over two hundred people responded, enjoying the evening so much they had to be told to go home at twelve-thirty. At one point during the evening, when the music slowed and the over 30’s took to the dance floor, she brazenly took Father Michael by the hand, led him onto the floor and they danced the quick-step together. They looked in every way a natural couple as Allison laughed and danced her way around the hall with the young priest. They also set the town tongues wagging.

This would never have happened if Father James was here, Dorothy Proctor told Alice Eastward, owner of the local pie shop, as the couple twirled past them. Yes, isn’t it wonderful? Perhaps we should have got rid of him sooner, Alice replied. Dorothy was miffed.

It wasn’t that simple for Father Michael however. In those early days, he and Allison had found common ground on many issues and became friends. Behind a veneer of propriety he harboured feelings for her that he never allowed anyone to see. Her happy, carefree nature was intoxicating to the young priest, all the more because she was something he could not have, if he were true to his vows. She was available but yet, not available. No matter what manner of spiritual exercises he performed, she was constantly in his thoughts. Recurring images appeared regularly during the day, but it was in the evenings that the temptation was the most challenging. Even as he said his daily office, her image loomed large. And at night in bed, what should have been for him the sleep of the just, was a constant battle of the mind. When her image appeared he quickly dismissed thoughts of her lying there with him only to have them return minutes later. He wondered if she thought of him at all, or was this no more than a foolish fantasy. Each night in bed, he wondered about many such things until the rigours of the day overtook his active mind and he finally drifted off to sleep.

3.

It was on the occasion of Father James’ most recent trip to France to attend a special gathering of the eight members of the management of SVE that the real troubles began.

Fifty kilometres west of Cluny, in the picturesque town of Paray-le-Monial, it was ten o’ clock in the evening. Below street level in the basement of an office building on the Rue de la Visitation, eight men of noble and independent mind had gathered under a veil of doubt and secrecy. The basement was rectangular in shape, the walls adorned with religious pictures set within ornately carved timber frames, each with a small wooden cross at the apex. The pictures featured the Sacred Heart of Jesus on one side of the room, the Sacred Heart of Mary on the other. The aisle was carpeted with a thick red strip that displayed a tapestry of hearts with flames rising from within and a crown of thorns around the centre. There was an archway in the middle of the room, suggesting this was once two rooms at some time in the past. The altar was laid bare but for a white linen cover that bore the inscription SVE. Behind the altar, mounted in a small alcove, stood a white tabernacle with gold plated edging around its door. Above the tabernacle hung a huge framed print of the painting by Louis Caracciolo of the Apparition of the Sacred Heart to Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque. The painting depicts the nun on her knees before the Altar of the Chapel of the Visitation at Paray. Above the Altar standing on a cloud, Jesus, covered in a thick red robe looks down upon her, His Sacred Heart exposed. Behind Him is a monstrance containing the consecrated host. To His left and right cherubs watch on. The painting brings the room to life, dominating all else. As the eight men sat on simple wooden chairs, arranged in an arc facing the altar with the tabernacle open, the mood was sour, the tension at breaking point.

Those present this night represented the entire membership of SVE, the ‘Société de la Vérité Eternelle,’ and the course of the discussion that prompted the meeting had reached a crisis.

My brothers, the time has come for us to put the motion to a vote, Monsignor Henri Pascal said. There was a murmur of voices, some in agreement, others not.

Surely we are not ready to decide on something as momentous as this, François Dante protested.

We have all had more time than we need, Jean Paul Colombière countered. It is time to face reality. What have we to fear? Surely Almighty God will guide us.

It is wrong, said Father James, the representative from Australia. This will be the end of the society. We must remain true to the wishes and promises stated in the manuscript.

Those who agree that a vote should now be taken please raise your hands, Henri Pascal said, determined to push ahead.

You are making a mistake, my brothers, Father James pressed, again making no effort to conceal his annoyance.

Two hands went up immediately, that of Pascal and Colombière. Then, slowly two more; the doctor from Brussels and the solicitor from London. It was four in favour, and four, it seemed, against.

It is deadlocked, Father James said with excitement and relief. The motion is defeated. The four members with their hands raised looked around to the others. Was there just one more that would join them? Seconds passed before the deadlock was broken.

No, said the Jesuit from Lyon. I think we should proceed as proposed. I think it is better to know than to believe in blind faith. I vote yes. He too, then raised his hand.

Henri Pascal examined their faces, listening to the tone of their voices and heaved a sigh of relief. Then let us proceed, he said. This matter has been delayed long enough. All those in favour of the motion to submit the relics to technical examination please raise your hands now, he stated.

Again, he and Jean Paul Colombière raised their hands, followed by the doctor and the solicitor. Their eyes then turned to see if the Jesuit from Lyon would follow through on his earlier statement. A few seconds passed but then slowly, he too raised his hand. Then a surprise, as the antiquities dealer José da Silva from Lisbon lifted his hand also.

I am sorry François. I too think it is better to know, he said speaking to the retired Bishop of Paris.

Six in favour, Henri Pascal said. "Two against! The motion is passed. The relics are to be entrusted to our brother from Lisbon at such time as he is able to arrange appropriate examination. José, you will make arrangements and report back to us