“As most of you know,” the pastor said, “Roberta Gunnel of our congregation suggested last June that we invite Mr. Aran to speak to us. After several discussions and a certain amount of heat, it was decided we would, and we got in touch with him.”
Corkery wondered amusedly what they’d think of that decision-making procedure back in Ireland. Or for that matter, what they thought of the Holy Father meeting with the guru. At least Aran’s last name was Irish. He put a hand in the right pocket of the warm jacket he wore, briefly fondling the detonator, the size of a pack of cigarettes.
The pastor continued. “Mr. Aran graciously agreed, and suggested we compile a list of written questions, to be presented to him on his arrival. A number of you suggested questions, from which the senior deacons and myself selected fifteen that we felt covered a suitable spectrum.”
He turned. “Mr. Aran,” he said, “the pulpit is yours.”
A sheet of paper in one hand, Ngunda Aran stepped to the pulpit and stood beside it. Not behind it. To explode the bomb now, Corkery thought, might not kill him. Quite likely cripple him, but the man might well survive.
“Thank you for inviting me to speak,” Ngunda said. His deep rich voice filled the sanctuary without need of a microphone. “The first question asks my view of God. God is the universal creative power, which is all there is. I generally prefer the word ‘Tao’; it carries far less extraneous baggage. But those are labels. The reality behind them I perceive only vaguely. Incarnate souls, like you and me, comprehend only limited aspects of the Tao, and those imperfectly.”
To Corkery it didn’t seem like much of an answer. I wonder, he thought, how much they’re paying him? Maybe they’ll be satisfied with the voice.
“The next question is, ‘Will humankind ever become spiritually enlightened?’ ” He scanned the crowd. “It will, but step by step. We evolve as individuals, and in the process our species evolves collectively. That is as true spiritually as it is biologically. From time to time, however, our spiritual evolution bogs down. Then that aspect of the Tao which you might think of as the Infinite Soul, comes among us in human form, resulting in a new level of awareness, a new point of view, a new social and religious paradigm. Jump-starting us, so to speak.
“But God does not coerce. We make our own choices, and evolve our own enlightenment.”
The answer bemused Corkery. The language was unfamiliar, but some Jesuits would be comfortable with it. Near the front, he saw a hand stabbing the air. Aran pointed.
“The lady in the indigo coat,” he said. “Speak loudly, please, so the congregation can hear you.”
“Are you talking about a messiah?”
“The question is, am I talking about a messiah. Yes, I am. But let me clarify. A messiah, in the way we usually use the term, is exemplified by the Christ. Jesus of Nazareth didn’t start life as the Christ. He was conceived by the usual sex act between two not terribly exceptional human beings. Like you and me, he was human, a soul occupying a primate body. . . .”
An image appeared in Corkery’s mind, of the parish priest of his childhood, and he almost laughed aloud. Wouldn’t Father Malachy love to hear that! he thought.
“For some thirty years, Jesus continued to be a human being, a messenger of extraordinary wisdom, compassion and enlightenment, with significant paranormal powers—but a human being. A few weeks before the crucifixion, the soul of Jesus left the body to join the . . . angels, so to speak. That is, he returned to the astral plane.”
Corkery’s eyebrows raised. Astral plane? Bald-faced New Age-ism, he told himself.
“At that point the Infinite Soul assumed the body of Jesus, and became the Christ. Or in Hindu terminology, an avatar, an incarnation of God.”
The tall black figure paused behind the pulpit and leaned his forearms on it. In the congregation, more hands thrust upward. Straightening, he pointed. “The man in the plaid jacket.”
Corkery’s thumb found the trigger and pressed it.
Nothing happened. He pressed again. Still nothing. He resisted the impulse to take the detonator out and look at it. This would never do! Could the batteries be bad? He’d put them in this morning, fresh from the package, and tested the device with the apparatus the Iraqi had provided.