A Future History of the United States

With the bishop’s sudden departure, the worshipers sat in stunned silence. Never had they experienced a church service like the one just completed. They had just observed the power of the Holy Spirit settle on the man in front of them. They had to believe their own eyes, yet to admit such a miracle would cause them to question everything they had been taught all their lives. The message he had presented contradicted the Church’s emphasis on finding and punishing heretics, but the Bible passages he had quoted were clear.

While they were still seated, there once again came the sound of a great wind, yet they could feel not even the slightest breeze. As if in response to the wind, the candles, still sitting on the altar, flared once again, and then their flames died. It was as if this were a signal. Everyone started to shout at the same time, each trying to be heard over the general tumult.

A group of four men who had been seated near the main doors stood and hurried out into the street. This started a mass exodus with everyone pushing and shoving, trying to get to fresh air. Once outside, some took off running as if Satan himself were chasing them.

One of the men who had been in the first group out told his friends, “Archbishop Rand must be informed of this immediately!”

Another responded, “Yes, but who was that bishop? The way he wore his hood I never got a look at his face.”

A third chimed in, “Are we sure he is really a bishop? I can’t believe any bishop would dare speak like that.”

The first man replied, “He had to be a bishop. He had all the mannerisms, all the right words, all the correct moves. It was just another boring church service until his voice seemed to come from heaven!”

The fourth member of the group finally got up the courage to speak. His voice betrayed the fact that he was in awe of the performance he had just witnessed. “He performed miracles.”

The others turned to look at him, so he went on, “Can any man do such things without the power of God?”

The first man, who appeared to be the leader of the group, replied, “It seems to me it might well be the power of Satan! If the people start believing what he was preaching, it will cause trouble for the whole Church. Right now we need to tell the Archbishop about this. He will know how to handle it.” With that they began walking toward the Archbishop’s residence.

They trudged on in silence for some time, each lost in his own private thoughts about the church service they had witnessed. After a good two hours one of them spoke up. “I’m beginning to wish the Church hadn’t banned all mechanical transportation on Sunday. My feet are killing me, and we’re only about half way to the Archbishop’s place.”

“Aw, be quiet,” replied another, “the walk will do you good. You spend so much time sitting and copying books you’re going to get permanently attached to your chair.”

“For your information those ‘books’ you refer to are the approved translations of the Scriptures. I have to get copies to the other eleven Archbishops so they can put their scribes to work making copies for the priests. Without these copies, they might accidentally use an old version and teach something the Church doesn’t approve of.”

“You mean something like what we heard this morning?” said their leader.

“Exactly, but I still can’t get over those miracles!”

It was late afternoon by the time they reached the Archbishop’s estate. The property had at one time been owned by one of the richest men in the entire area. When he had been accused of heresy, the Church had seized his estate. The Archbishop had moved in within a week of the man’s first appearance on the charge.

Such actions on the part of the Church were common. A person with great wealth could pose a great danger if they were to use it against the Church. Of course the money from such estates gave quite a boost to the Church’s financial condition. To avoid infighting between the Archbishops, the Church had divided the country into twelve regions, each overseen by a single Archbishop. Property confiscated within any given region came under the control of the Archbishop of that region.

When they arrived at the main gate they were stopped by one of the servants. Stating they had some news of critical importance to the Archbishop they demanded immediate admittance.

“Give me the information you have,” he said. “I will pass it on to the Archbishop. If he feels it deserves his attention he will schedule an appointment for you sometime within the next two weeks.”

“That’s preposterous!” they all exclaimed together. Their leader then said, “This can not wait! Even a delay of one day could result in problems beyond imagination. We must see him NOW!”

“The Archbishop is a very busy man. Give me your names and a brief message. He will contact you at his convenience.”

“I tell you any delay will be disastrous! We attended a church service this morning where a bishop delivered a message that will have the people in revolt if something isn’t done right away.”

Growing tired of the confrontation the servant said, “I’ll pass your message on to him. Good bye.” With this he turned, walked into the gatehouse, and shut the door.

“You didn’t even get our names! How can he get in touch with us?”They all shouted in unison.

It was futile. They could see him sitting back in his chair, eyes closed, arms across his chest, seeming about to go to sleep.

“What do we do now?” someone asked.

The leader replied, “Go back to the church, find the priest, and find out from him what’s going on.”

“You go,” said one of the others, “I’m not going to make that walk again today. I’m going home.”

With that they separated. As they walked toward their homes their thoughts were in turmoil. What had they witnessed that morning? Had they been overly anxious about reporting this to the Archbishop? Could one sermon by a single bishop really have much impact on Society? None of them could really answer the questions they were asking themselves.

It was late the next day before the gate keeper thought to tell Archbishop Rand about his experience of the evening before. He went into detail with his description of the men, referring to them as a group of hooligans. “People just don’t understand how busy you are. I tried to get them to make an appointment but they refused.”

“Did they ever tell you just why they wanted to see me?”

“Well, just before they left they said something about some bishop preaching a sermon that could cause some problems.”

The Archbishop rose to his feet, a look of concern on his face. “Are you sure they said ‘bishop’?”

“That’s what they said. To be precise one of them said, ‘I tell you any delay will be disastrous! We attended a church service this morning where a bishop delivered a message that will have the people in revolt if something isn’t done right away.’ That was so unbelievable I just walked away from them. They must have been drunk.”

“It’s not possible. None of my bishops are within a two hundred kilometers of here this week. Any visiting bishop must always visit with me before conducting any church service.” The Archbishop was talking to himself. Suddenly realizing this servant was still in the room he turned, “You may be dismissed. Don’t tell anyone else about this episode.”

Still talking to himself he walked to his secretary’s office. Finding him seated at his desk working on some papers the Archbishop interrupted and asked, “Did you go out into town today?”

“Yes, I did. I had to get some fresh chicken for your evening meal. The cook was very emphatic that the chicken had to weigh no more than one kilo.”

“Did anything seem unusual out there?”

“Not really. Someone said something about a rabble-rouser saying it’s sinful to accuse your neighbor of being a heretic. I hear that kind of thing pretty often. Usually from someone who is afraid they might be accused. There was one thing different though. They said they heard this in church.”

“Did they mention which church?”

“Not that I heard. I was in a hurry to get back here with the chicken.”

The Archbishop stood quietly for a few moments trying to decide if any action were really needed. The gatekeeper’s story seemed unlikely. The overheard comment was common enough. Yet, this time it was attributed to something said in church. Finally he spoke, “I need to think some things over. Don’t leave your office. I may need you to check some things out for me.”

He returned to his office. Standing before the window, which looked out over the vast expanse of a flowering garden, he was hardly aware of the view. Deep in thought he kept going over what he had just learned.

A church service conducted by a strange bishop. Would any bishop actually have the nerve to conduct a church service without his approval? A sermon that some unknown people, possibly drunk, said could cause revolt. Was such a sermon even possible in this day and age? An overheard remark about some one saying turning in your neighbor as a heretic was sinful. The remark in itself was not unusual. He got reports of similar remarks several times a year. But coming the day after the alleged sermon?

Any action taken on such nebulous information could be counterproductive. Besides, what could he do? Without even knowing which church was supposed to be involved he had no starting place. Archbishops who overreacted when there was no real danger to the Church soon found they were no longer Archbishops. Not responding appropriately to a real threat could result in his excommunication from the Church.

The one thing he did not do spoke volumes about how far the Church had fallen from the ideals of Christianity. He did not pray!

He finally decided his first impulse while in his secretary’s office had been correct. He needed more information. He called through the open doorway, “Mark, I have some instructions for you.”

Mark was by his side almost before the sentence was completed. “Yes, Sire!”

“I need you to go back into town for me. I know it’s late but this is too important to put off until tomorrow. One of the few ‘worldly’ things the people are still allowed to do is have a few beers at the local pub. I want you to join the crowd and see if you can pick up any more comments about an unusual church service yesterday.”

Mark was shocked by this request. “But, Sire,” he protested, “you know I don’t drink. Everyone there will think I’m a spy or something.” As soon as he said that he realized the irony. He actually would be a spy!

The Archbishop was ready for this excuse. “The local pub master knows you. I have made a point of letting him know that at sometime you may be required to visit on business for me. He will provide you with a drink that looks just like beer but tastes like orange juice. You will fit in fine. Just keep your eyes and ears open. If you hear anything, see if you can find out just what church was involved. Take as long as you need, but whenever you get back, report to me immediately.”

“That could be quite late,” Mark reminded him. “The pubs don’t close until 2 A.M.”

“It makes no difference. This is urgent enough that I will be awake anyway!” With this remark the Archbishop turned back to the window. He heard the door close gently as Mark left him to his thoughts.