Blasphemy: Chapter 9 - The Bishop

The next morning Paul left the mission after Mass to visit "the Bishop," as all the Roman Catholic priests called him. There were three Bishops in Karachi. There was the Roman Catholic Bishop, and Bishop Gregory of the Church of Pakistan, and the old retired Bishop of the Church of Pakistan, an English priest who'd stayed on after the war of independence and the partition of India into India and Pakistan. The old Englishman had been Bishop until about ten years ago, when Rev. Gregory was elected. The election had been contentious, because the churches in Pakistan were filled with scheming and politics. Thus far, however, Bishop Gregory had been a good Bishop and had treated his opponents fairly.

Bishop Gregory was a progressive thinker. Paul recalled the last time he'd visited not more than a month ago. They'd discussed the problems of the Christians in Pakistan, and together they'd worked out a plan for several programs on the Christian radio informing the people of their human rights. Bishop Gregory was willing to take some risks. The radio station, which was located next to the rectory, broadcast music, Christian education, and news all over the subcontinent. Paul was amazed that the government hadn't shut it down. Maybe Bishop Gregory had a good connection with a high government official.

Before Paul left the rectory during his last visit, Bishop Gregory invited him into his library. Paul was startled to find a whole collection of books on Hindu religion and philosophy. When he'd asked about them, Bishop Gregory had said that he studied other religious traditions whenever he had a little free time. He was particularly interested in the Bhagavad-Gita and the many commentaries on the Gita in Hindu literature, including Gandhi's nonviolent understanding.

Nearing the rectory of his Bishop, Paul grimaced. He wouldn't be invited to discuss Hindu thought or even Roman Catholic theology today. The Bishop was one of those Catholics who kept to the book. He knew the teachings of the Church, but he also knew that the present Pope was a cautious, conservative man. Therefore, the Bishop was also cautious and conservative. He supported human rights, because the Church taught that these rights were the social conditions for human dignity. But he was more interested in promoting the Church's teachings on personal morality, which opposed every form of birth control except the rhythm method. Paul had already had an argument with him about the use of contraceptives. The Bishop was totally opposed to their use, but Paul was convinced that only the distribution of condoms to drug users and prostitutes would prevent the rapid spread of the HIV virus in Karachi.

Paul reached for the bell beside the rectory door, then paused and looked at his watch. He was a few minutes early. He backed off the step and walked around the rectory toward the church. Stepping into the colorful sanctuary, Paul realized how much he loved coming here. The walls were a simple white plaster that, to his credit, the Bishop kept a brilliant white. Many white walls in Karachi buildings were yellowed with age or streaked with water marks where windows had leaked and dripped. But in this sanctuary, you had a sense of brilliant white light that was breathtaking.

Stained glass windows stood in rows like soldier at attention, side by side, along the walls of the sanctuary. The sunlight streaming through them splashed bright spots of red, blue and green across the walls, as if an artist had run amuck that morning. The communion table at the front was a simple concrete slab, and behind it there was a wooden crucifix that showed Jesus in all his agony on the cross. The face of Christ was contorted, his body was sagging, and blood was running from his hands, feet and the gash in his side. Paul generally didn't like a crucifix that revealed the suffering of Jesus in such detail, but he found it hard to look away from this one. It certainly seemed at home in Karachi.

Paul knelt before the altar, bowed his head, and without thinking about it, began to sing one of his favorite psalms.

"The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear?"

"The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear. The Lord is the refuge of my life, of whom shall I be afraid."

"When the wicked draw near against me to devour my flesh. My enemies and my foes, they stumble and fall"

"Though an army encamp against me, my heart will not fear. Though war break out against me, even then will I trust."

"One thing I ask of the Lord, this do I seek; to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life."

"I am sure I shall see the Lord's goodness in the land of the living. Hope in the Lord and take heart, hope in the Lord."

"The Lord in my light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear?"

Paul loved singing the psalms. When he was in seminary Sr. Elaine had given him a Singing Version of the Psalms published with the help of the Grail in England. It used the musical formulas of Joseph Gelineau, which were adapted from traditional Gregorian chants. Many years ago he had spent each Sunday looking at different translations of a psalm, fashioning his own translation, and then memorizing it with the appropriate Gelineau psalm tone. At any time one of these psalms might come to mind.

Paul remained in silence for a few moments, feeling the warmth of the colored light from the stained glass on his back and sensing the suffering figure of Jesus above him. Gandhi had been moved by the teachings of Jesus about loving our enemies. In England, however, Gandhi had come to realize that the story of the Bhagavad-Gita might be interpreted metaphorically as a call to nonviolent resistance against injustice. In his own life Gandhi had combined the Gospel and the Gita, seeing both as reflections of truth. God calls us to love even those who persecute us. That was the meaning of the crucifix. It reminds us that God has forgiven us for our sins and calls and empowers us to forgive others.

Paul crossed himself, rose from his knees, and then walked resolutely out of the church and back to the rectory door, where he rang the bell. Fr. James, a small, dark man, came to the door almost immediately. He was a young priest who had worked with the Bishop for a little over a year. He greeted Paul formally and led him to the Bishop's receiving room, which was a bit Spartan but tastefully decorated. Several straight back chairs were arranged around a low table. A crucifix hung on one wall, facing the only window in the room. The other wall held a large painting that was surprisingly abstract, Paul thought, for such a conservative Bishop.

Fr. James invited Paul to be seated and left the room to inform the Bishop of Paul's arrival. Paul pushed his buttocks back into the straight chair and sat erect in order to be prepared for the arrival of the Bishop. Scanning the room, his eyes were drawn to the painting. He knew it was supposed to depict the Last Supper, when Jesus ate the Passover meal with his disciples before he was arrested. In the painting there was a swath of brown, which Paul took to be the table and then swirls of different colors surrounding it. One of swirls was very dark. Paul thought that it must represent Judas, who betrayed Jesus later that night. In the center there was nothing but white light that radiated out into the rest of the painting. It was as though Jesus had already been crucified and resurrected.

Perhaps the artist was thinking of John's gospel, Paul thought. In that gospel Jesus always seems more divine than human. It was intriguing that in John's gospel Jesus doesn't institute the Eucharist. That is, he doesn't tell the disciples to observe the meal in order to remember or commemorate his death. But John's gospel has Jesus explicitly saying that he is "the bread of life" and that all those who "eat his flesh and drink his blood" will have everlasting life. In some ways John's gospel was the most Eucharistic of the four gospels.

His thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of the Bishop, who walked quickly toward him. Paul rose from his chair but before he could bend his knee, the Bishop had grasped his hand firmly and indicated that he should be seated again. The Bishop seated himself directly across from Paul and gave him a tight smile.

"It's good to see you, Paul. How is your ministry?"

Paul had expected this question. The Bishop always asked first about one's responsibilities to the Church. "It's slow, as you might imagine. A few men have broken free from their addiction, but even for them the temptation to fall back into the life of the streets is almost overpowering. But, God willing, at least some of them will make it."

"Do the men come to Mass in the morning?" the Bishop asked.

"Some of them do, but not all."

"Try to encourage them to be more faithful in that regard. The Eucharist can be a great source of strength. It is far more powerful than prayer, although we tend to stress prayer more."

Paul examined the face of the Bishop carefully. As the Bishop spoke, his eyes moved nervously around the room. They didn't focus for long on Paul. The Bishop's hair was white, but his slender eyebrows were still dark. The skin on his cheeks was drawn tightly over his high cheekbones in a way that gave his mouth a slight smile. Yet, the smile wasn't warm. It was more mocking or even judging. When he met with the Bishop, Paul always felt like a small, naughty boy brought before his father.

Paul had to admit, however, that the Bishop might be right about the Eucharist. It was a source of great strength to him. He couldn't imagine being in one of the Protestant churches that only took Holy Communion, as they called it, a few times a year. He looked forward to the Mass each day.

"Paul, I've heard about the petition you're planning against the blasphemy law."

"I wanted to come and talk with you before any public statement is made."

"It would have been considerate to have spoken with me before the whole Church in Pakistan knew about it."

Paul kept his head up but his eyes fell, and he felt his will weaken. "I'm sorry, I should have come to you earlier."

"Well, there's nothing to be done about it now," the Bishop said briskly. "Of course, your decision will put the Church in Pakistan at great risk. Did you consider that?"

"Yes. But the elders are almost all in support of the strategy. If the Christian community can stay united, the Catholic Church won't be blamed for the petition."

"You know that the government officials are masters at keeping Christians divided and quarrelling with one another. It weakens our community, and that's good for them."

"I know. But perhaps we can unite behind this petition," Paul replied. His voice sounded plaintive and weak. He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders.

"You mean unite behind you, don't you?" said the Bishop, looking intently at him now. "Are you feeling the temptation of pride, Paul? Do you see yourself as a Christ figure, giving your life for the sake of the world?"

Paul was shocked by the mocking tone of the Bishop's voice. He'd been aware of his personal feelings, but he was sure that his decision to file the petition was more than just a desire for martyrdom. It was a good strategy, perhaps their best bet.

"I'm trying to follow the example of Jesus," he answered quietly, "but not because I have a feeling of pride." He felt his pulse slow, as the stillness expanded within him. The Bishop was wrong to accuse him of pride. "I'm afraid of what might happen, and I don't feel strong enough to challenge the authorities," Paul replied, his voice much firmer now, but gentle nonetheless. "I feel called to take this action, and the elders support it. I hope you will also support us."

The Bishop sat quietly for a moment, with his hands folded in his lap and his eyes on Paul. Then he smiled. "Your sincerity does you justice, Paul. And your modesty. I wanted to test you a bit. There must be no pride in your voice when you oppose the blasphemy law, nor any ill will toward the Muslims. That will undermine all the good that you hope to accomplish."

The Bishop stood and motioned with his hands for Paul to stand. "You have my blessing, Paul, and my prayers. But keep me fully informed. If you get into trouble, I may be able to help."

Paul bowed his head and leaned forward to kiss the Bishop's ring

"No need for that!" the Bishop said in a husky voice, making the sign of the cross over Paul. Paul glanced at the Bishop's face and saw moisture in his Bishop's eyes. "Go in peace," the Bishop said. "And may God be with you."

On his way out of the room Paul looked once more at the painting of the Last Supper. In the swirl of light and colors in the center he thought he saw a hand raised in blessing. But the hand was dripping with blood. He crossed himself and went out to the street.

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