The Bishop’s Temptation

By Mariana Gavrila

A journalist’s life is full of many surprises; every day. Nowhere else can one find more cluttered news, nowhere is life more fugacious; their hierarchy is of little importance. Bad, good, they close in upon us.
The underground water of our daily life comes up over our heads and most of the time we can barely float over its captious waves. That is why we know our acquaintance more and more superficially only. We dismiss so dangerously fast his ambitions, the anguish.
For instance, I did not know about Mariana Gavrila, my true friend, that she was searching in her heart for literary achievement. Our meetings were rather worldly than spiritual, having spent our lives according to the editorial program set for us by others. We spoke very rarely of our stuff when leaving the park from the vicinity of our apartments, just like when guys go and grab a beer. She changed various editorial offices, so did I, just like one would change public transport, quickly communicating the new addresses, most often over the phone.
Until one time, when in the calmness of the same park where we had come after a crazy day at work, I felt that her words lead with fear to something new, something profound for her life. These were not related anymore to editorial gossip, they were not echoes from others’ philosophical or literary books, the only thing that we were still practicing during our walk with gymnast like easiness.
She was suggesting I should read a book that was born from within her very own life.
Knowing the rancor of the civil society that says that in every run-of-the-mill writer there lies a journalist of mark, but not in any remarkable journalist there lies a true writer, I took the manuscript home and three pages later, that I read out of true amity, I entered a new life of hers, totally unknown to me. Events with people torn apart by the cruelty of social precepts, dogmas, overwhelmed by love that has come at bad age. Crucial moments were unfolding to me from her pages; in a very crushing way.
I just could not leave the manuscript off my hands, until I read the last word of the novel to-come. Because that was all about, without any doubt.
I am not recommending Mariana Gavrila’s book to be perceived like a frivolous read, but as a dispute of one of us, the women who don’t know whether we’re tossed in hell or in heaven ...

Jeni Pasca

• Language: English
• Publisher: LETRAS
• Release date: Apr 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9786303123158

Book preview

MARIANA GAVRILĂ

THE BISHOP'S TEMPTATION

NOVEL

Copyright

The Bishop's Temptation / Mariana Gavrilă

ISBN eBook ePUB 978-630-312-315-8

Cover: Adrian Buzaș

The entire responsibility for the content of this book belongs to the author.

Copyright 2024, Mariana Gavrilă

This book is protected by the copyright law.

A book distributed by www.piatadecarte.net

email: [e-mail]

Orders at phone no. 021 367 5228 // 0787 708 844

For publishing requests, you may address the publishing house, by mail: [e-mail]

Letras Publishing House / www.letras.ro

[e-mail]

Content

Copyright

Preface

Part I

Part II

The final part

Preface

A journalist's life is full of many surprises; every day. Nowhere else can one find more cluttered news, nowhere is life more fugacious; their hierarchy is of little importance. Bad, good, they close in upon us.

The underground water of our daily life comes up over our heads and most of the time we can barely float over its captious waves. That is why we know our acquaintance more and more superficially only. We dismiss so dangerously fast his ambitions, the anguish.

For instance, I did not know about Mariana Gavrilă, my true friend, that she was searching in her heart for literary achievement. Our meetings were rather worldly than spiritual, having spent our lives according to the editorial program set for us by others. We spoke very rarely of our stuff when leaving the park from the vicinity of our apartments, just like when guys go and grab a beer. She changed various editorial offices, so did I, just like one would change public transport, quickly communicating the new addresses, most often over the phone.

Until one time, when in the calmness of the same park where we had come after a crazy day at work, I felt that her words lead with fear to something new, something profound for her life. These were not related anymore to editorial gossip, they were not echoes from others' philosophical or literary books, the only thing that we were still practicing during our walk with gymnast like easiness.

She was suggesting I should read a book that was born from within her very own life.

Knowing the rancor of the civil society that says that in every run-of-the-mill writer there lies a journalist of mark, but not in any remarkable journalist there lies a true writer, I took the manuscript home and three pages later, that I read out of true amity, I entered a new life of hers, totally unknown to me. Events with people torn apart by the cruelty of social precepts, dogmas, overwhelmed by love that has come at bad age. Crucial moments were unfolding to me from her pages; in a very crushing way.

I just could not leave the manuscript off my hands, until I read the last word of the novel to-come. Because that was all about, without any doubt.

I am not recommending Mariana Gavrilă's book to be perceived like a frivolous read, but as a dispute of one of us, the women who don't know whether we're tossed in hell or in heaven ...

Eugenia Pașca

Part I

The New York archpriest passed through Otopeni airport's entranceway as if he was remote controlled, pensive as if he had come out of a museum, troubled by the bliss of discovering the art's boundaries. The emotion he was feeling increasing around him as a thundering blast was affecting his entire being. He had forgotten about his friend, Father Nicolae from Holy Trinity church in Chicago, with whom he had travelled for more than ten hours. He 'd forgotten about the luggage, too. The idea of meeting his former colleague from the Faculty of Theology after twenty years in such a solemn and important moment for the entire Romanian Orthodoxy, had him feel a such a deep pleasure that it almost became a guilty one.

During the flight he hadn't uttered a word. He was mentally displaying, frame after frame, the nights when he and his bench mate were theorizing about life and death and they would contradict until dawn on clerkly dogmas and human destinies. He was smiling when he remembered how dedicated Daniel was to discovering the mysteries that had become revealing through their very own sacrament, free of any response. He, in return, was more inclined to explore the paradise before the pleasure, he wanted to feel and live that bedraggled, spiritual pleasure in its full form, happy just because and which does not know degradation, perversity, vice or decadence.

'' Your Eminence, the luggage...., beckoned Father Nicolae. He woke up as if from a deep dream. 'Oh Lord, I am in Bucharest'. He ran his hand through his grey hair and turned around.

''Forgive me, my friend, I believe I am way too excited'' . His cellphone that he had totally forgotten about, started to vibrate from one of his pockets.

''Yes, please'', he said after having had some difficulty in finding it.

'' It is me, Daniel'', said the unmistakable voice of his former colleague.''I wanted to know if you arrived well''.

''We just landed, your Very Reverend. I am with the priest of the Orthodox church in Chicago ...we're trying to find a taxi to the hotel.

''I sent for you a car to pick you up. I cannot wait for us to meet...''

''But Your Grace … ''

''I'd like you to call me Daniel, the way you once used to call me …''

''Daniel, but you need to get ready for the big day tomorrow. You must be very nervous''

''Nervous?' I' am also nervous for seeing you''.

''I also feel like I'm standing in line for a very hard exam....''

''You are actually having an exam, because I have an important mission for you …''

''May God help us get over tomorrow and then we'll have time to talk quietly about other things as well''.

''May God help us and welcome home!''

A young man wearing a cassock approached the archpriest. He smiled at him as if he had known him for a long time.

''You must be Your Eminence, archpriest of New York'', he said, slightly bowing his head.

''And if I told you that I wasn't?'' replied the debonair prelate.

''I would be grateful to you anyway'', he said, pointing at the direction where the Patriarchate car was.

''He is right, replied Father Nicolae. I warned you many times that the word bishop is written on your forehead, trifled he with him, taking advantage of his friend's good buoyancy.

The car started off very fast, driving to one of the hotels that was booked for foreign guests that came especially for this occasion, putting the Orthodox patriarch Daniel of Romania in office. On the way, the New York archpriest lowered the back window of the car.

The balmy temperature of the autumn air was flagrantly opposing with the absurdly congested streets of Bucharest.

Even from the hotel's entrance, the glance of the hierarch was arrested by the journals' headlines, that were put in plain sight on the shelf of the reception desk. We've got Patriarch, The Sacrament of electing Daniel, Anania's personality qualm; these were the titles of the front pages, alongside with the photograph of the one who would cotrol the orthodoxy in Romania starting the very next day. He took a newspaper randomly, and in the dim light of the elevator, he was studying the face of his former colleague. 'God, he hasn't changed at all. He's got the same firm, inquisitive features who used to give him an even more of a serious gravitas among his fellow theology students and professors alike and that regard... yes.. the regard, always benighted and acute. It was often said about Daniel that he would become a good diplomat or a successful businessman, but he was and remained God's servant ', reckoned the archpriest. ''Something interesting in the Romanian newspapers?'' asked father Nicolae.

''They are writing about the election of His Grace.''

''I will let you get some rest and I will come later to pick you up for dinner''.

The archpriest let his unopened luggage in the hall of the room, he put his coat on the seat back of the armchair and grabbed the newspaper anxiously. The Sacrament of Daniel's Election.... what did they mean by sacrament? What sacrament could exist in the democratic election of a patriarch? With such thoughts, he impatiently turned his pockets inside out, searching for his spectacles. He finally found them and opened the newspaper.

'The night between 11th and 12th of September, 2007 A.D was one of sacraments. The Alba Iulia metropolitan , His Grace Andrei Andreicuţ, revoked his support for His Grace, Bartolomeu Anania '

The latter would have had a 'personality qualm', manifested through raising his voice. His Grace Teofan announced his withdrawal from the Patriarchy race, his place being taken by the bishop of Harghita and Covasna, Ioan Selejan.

''Interesting'', thought the hierarch, looking for the continuation of the article in the pages from inside.

The information he got in New York let him only know who the candidates were and that his friend had been chosen by the Holy Synod after two rounds of voting.

' The next day, the cards seemed to already be dealt.'' Beginning with 10 o'clock, the Holy Synod was statutorily assembled by the patriarch's vicar, His Grace Daniel, in order to choose two or three candidates for the patriarchy seat. What did actually happen at the 10 o'clock ''sacrament meeting''? There were three rounds of voting, followed by the election of the first, second and third candidate, number three being specially elected to recall the Three-in-one.

The first elected was His Grace Daniel, metropolitan of Moldova-with 27 votes out of 47. At the second round of voting the candidates, with 18 votes out of 47, winner has His Grace Bartolomeu, metropolitan of Cluj, Alba, Crişana and Maramureş. The surprise candidate was all-holy Ioan Sălăjan, bishop of Harghita and Covasna. The latter got 30 votes out of 47.

Off the record, there were all kinds of backstairs games. After the first round withdrew, in order, His Grace Teofan, the metropolitan of Oltenia who declared himself 'unworthy' and His Grace Laurenţiu Streza, metropolitan of Ardeal, who said that ''he does not need this fight''. Starting with 5 o'clock p.m., 161 members from all 169 representing the Ecclesiastical Voting Board had the benediction to take part in the election of the new patriarch. At 7:30 in the evening, it was officially announced what everyone seemed to already know: Daniel is the new patriarch. The big loser, His Grace Bartolomeu Anania, came in front of the crowd with tears running down his face and declared: ''No comment'. ended the article.

The archpriest's sight aimed the window of the fancy chamber. It has become dark. He knew pretty well the character, ambitions and even more, he knew well the frustrations of the people mentioned in the press articles. In order for them to get at the top of their career, most of them would have closed a deal with the devil, they would have exchanged their fate with Lucifer within a second. Because he could not tame his fury and the will to become a leader, Lucifer said : 'Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven.' Watching the late sunrays that were elongating in narrow shadows upon a few buildings, the hierarch wondered if patriarch Daniel would be mentioned in history as one of the leaders who managed to keep united the Romanian Orthodox Church. Would that however depend on him, the Patriarch or on the hyenas that surround him, especially when there were more and more often talks of a schism? He was sunk so deep in his thinking, that he hasn't even noticed when Father Nicolae came in.

''Your Eminence, I came to pick you up for dinner''.

' 'I am so tired that I think I won't be able of eating anything now'', said the hierarch, trying to find an excuse so he could stay again by