The Religious Life

Chapter 4

It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me…

Dear Mother and Father,

I arrived safely in Rome yesterday, which is Sunday here, but I haven't had time to begin writing this letter until now. In fact, I've barely a moment's rest since I've gotten here, with all the people and places Father O'Brien has been asking me to see. The city is beautiful, but it isn't Scotland, I must say. Ah! I've got to postpone, another appointment awaits—Seems I'll have to finish this letter in steps.

It's Tuesday already, they've sure been keeping me busy—exams and physical assessments, I didn't know priests had to go through all of this! I feel exhausted, yet edified that God has called me to serve like this. All the priests I meet keep telling me that I've been called in a special way, then they smile in an odd way, I wonder what it could mean. I'm sorry, I really must get some sleep, Mass tomorrow is early, and I haven't quite adjusted to the time difference here. I'll write tomorrow more tomorrow. I wonder if by the time I'm done I'll be delivering it by hand!

It's late Wednesday, but I have some bad news to report. It seems they want me to stay in Rome longer than the week we thought. They keep mentioning some type of special training; I think it is because of my age. I don't see why that matters though, it's not like I will be ordained tomorrow, you know? Other than that though, I'm still having a pleasant stay here. They treat me well (besides the busy schedule they're keeping me in) and it's amazing to see so many people working so hard for Mother Church. It almost feels like I've finally come home…

Mom and Dad…I want to thank you for everything. You've been so good to me, even giving God the chance to work on me, and giving me the chance to respond. I doubt I'll be coming home anytime soon, but maybe around the holidays, huh?

With love, and God's blessing

Alex.

Alex put his pen down and surveyed the finished note. He didn't quite perceive it, but he was a changed person from he had arrived in Rome a week ago. His limited introduction to theology and interview upon interview about what it mean to serve the Church and asking him if he was truly prepared to listen to it had ended in a much different way than expected: In a class about demon exorcisms. Unbeknownst to his parents, Alex had sworn already both an oath of secrecy and obedience to his superiors in what he was told was the Vatican Section XIII—the Iscariot organization. They had repeated to him how God had given him a special blessing of health in order to fight the enemies of the Church. He alone in his class had this ability, called "regeneration," and he began to take it very seriously that he was specially chosen for God for this ministry. So to, it wasn't like he was ready to go out and begin fighting. He intended to see this as all part of his vocation to priestly service, beyond simply defending the Church, but upholding it as well.

Years passed, and Alex was able to keep his vigor and vocation alive and burning. As he had grown, he had seen many an fearful, envious, even bitter eye turned towards him as he studied at Rome and elsewhere. His fervor and his knowledge grew with each passing week. The scorn of many, the pride of many. By the time he finally was able to go home for the holidays, his family saw a great change in their young son.

"Alex, would you like seconds?" His mother asked in a quiet possession.

It was now 5 years later, Christmas eve, the first family dinner since Alex had left, the first time he had even seen his family since then. His parents saw their son matured, physically, intellectually, mannerly. They barely recognized him when he had finally knocked on their frosted front door and strode into the warm room, garnished in the black clerics of priest-in-training., but they had soon grown to love and respect the young man Alex had grown into. He, of course, was cordial to his parents, affectionate in a real, loving yet; yet removed. His passion wasn't for his family, but for his study, his work, his Church. "Yes mother, please," Alex responded hurriedly, then pressed on to his next point, "…so, would you believe that? How can you take Christ seriously if you ignore the Keys of Peter? Without that power of authority…we'd certainly be in tight straits." His father in turn nodded appreciatively, even though there was an obvious lack of understanding. "Yes, all very interesting Alex. But please, tell us more about Rome, friends you've made, places you've visited…"

"Well…" Alex paused, reflecting on the past years, "Father O'Brien and I have kept up a friendship. He's had to travel often, but he checks in with me when he's in the Vatican. Been a great support for my vocation. Other than that…a few classmates I get along well with, but mostly competition—of a healthy kind, mind you."

The conversations that night continued in the same fashion for the rest of the night. They enjoyed a great reunion, but the Andersons could definitely tell their young boy was changed. There was a new intensity in his eyes than the formerly lazy Alex would never have displayed. It both edified, and frightened them. As Alex went outside to reminisce of his old hometown, his parents collapsed into each other's arms, both with the feeling that their child was no longer their own…

The air outside was frigid, typical of a Scottish winter. Breviary in hand, Alex recited his evening prayers while allowing his feet to choose his destination. He stopped for a moment, taking a movement to push up his study-induced glasses up on his chilled nose. He suddenly recognized the place. It was here, five years ago, where he had first encountered that demon of the night, through which he found out he was blessed with the gift of regeneration. A cold chill blew in suddenly, and it carried with it an evil intent.

A voice called out in the darkness, menacing, vengeful, "You've returned, the boy who blessed himself…"