The Friar and Jesus’ Son
Jack, the Son of the Son of God, resurrected in the middle of nowhere.
“You jumped too, huh?” asked my husband Bob.
All three of us had resurrected mere moments before. Bob had slipped and fallen over the side of our airship. I jumped after my husband without a second thought, and, apparently, Jack jumped after us both.
“What else was I supposed to do?” Jack asked.
“See, that’s what I said,” I agreed.
“You could’ve stayed put and given me a minute to resurrect next to you on the ship,” Bob suggested.
“Sorry, I’m not apologizing for following you,” I said. “I mean, what if you had landed in a haystack or something? Speaking of which, where did we land?”
The three of us were in a lush box canyon, next to a pond fed by a waterfall. We were wearing our white stain-proof heavenly uniforms and sandals. Bob and I had our wedding rings, and Bob was wearing his pentacle necklace, spirit-side properly pointed up. But there was no sign of the clothes or the bodies we were wearing when we died.
“You must have both died at the same instant,” Jack said. “The resurrection algorithm would have split the difference. So, one of your bodies is some distance in one direction, and the other body is that same distance in the opposite direction.”
Bob and I, being married and truly in love, were guaranteed by God’s Law to resurrect next to each other. And Jack, being God’s Grandson, was able to resurrect wherever he wanted to.
“What about your body?” I asked Jack.
He shrugged.
“Grandpa knows. I just followed you guys.”
“Well, great,” I said. “Lucifer put the tracking devices in our clothes. He’ll find our bodies, but he’s not going to find us.”
This wasn’t a good thing. Lucifer was our ride home.
Bob grabbed his pentacle, which was Network-enabled.
“Mnemosyne, identify our location,” he said.
Nothing happened.
“MNEMOSYNE, I DEN TI FY OUR LO CAY SHUN!”
“Don’t bother,” Jack said. “There’s no signal.”
“What do you mean, no signal?” I asked.
Every human being was connected to the psychic Network. We generally needed devices or rituals to access it, but it was the main form of communication between the gods and their worshippers. I knew comm union over the Network was limited by certain laws of physics—it wasn’t instantaneous, and places like the globe could have slow connections to the outside world. But I’d never heard of a place where you couldn’t get any signal at all.
“I mean nobody lives here,” Jack said. “It’s pure wilderness. No people, no Network. This is a godless land.”
Jack said that last part like it was a technical term, but the thought still landed hard.
“Great,” I said. “So we’re lost?”
“Pretty much,” Jack said. “Our best bet is to stay put, wait for Lucy to find our bodies, and hope he can triangulate our position from there. This water looks drinkable, at least. We’re going to need to find food, though.”
“Even in these bodies?” I asked.
We all had supercharged metabolisms, ever since first resurrecting into Jack’s heaven, and I’d gotten used to just shoving whatever into my mouth.
“These bodies still need to follow the laws of thermodynamics,” Jack said. “We can overeat without problems, but we still have to eat.”
“So glad I was a cub scout,” I said sarcastically. “Now’s my chance to put those Art and Computer badges to use! Dude, if you don’t got some serious mountain man skills, we’re fucked.”
“Don’t look at me,” Jack said. “I’m not a survivalist.”
We both looked at Bob.
“You’ve had a shit-ton of lifetimes,” I said.
“This is now my hundredth, actually,” Bob said. “Don’t everyone wish me happy vitaversary at once...”
“Any chance you were a hunter in one of them?” I asked.
“Not since they invented writing,” Bob said. “I snagged the first desk job I could find and never looked back.”
“So, we’re fucked,” I said.
“Nah, I’m older than writing,” Bob said.
“Can you get us food?” Jack asked.
“I’m not making any promises,” Bob said. “I mean, it was the stone age, so it’s not like I need a rifle. But I’m not sure how much I remember—it’s been like six thousand years. And also, y’know...”
He pointed down at the water.
“...there’s lots of fish. Just saying.”
The pond was absolutely teeming.
“Can you make a fire?” Jack asked.
Bob nodded.
“Me make big bright-hot-ow,” he said, getting into character.
“Looks like you’re in charge,” I said to my husband. “Tell us how we can help.”
Bob did not need to be asked twice. Per his instructions, Jack and I started collecting firewood.
“This would be a lot easier if I had a fire rock,” Bob said, poking around the stones at the water’s edge. “Or if I had a chopping rock. Or at least a chopping-rock-making rock. Any help?”
“Sorry,” said Jack, “I don’t know how to make different kinds of rock.”
“This pointy-stick-making rock will have to do,” Bob sighed.
By that first night, we had a campfire going with a few leaf-wrapped fish cooking away. On the second day, we got a signal fire going on the high point up past the waterfall. We took turns tending to it.
We were in an Eden of sorts, the kind of place that can only exist where there isn’t a civilization to exploit and pollute it. It was the great outdoors on the easy setting, and we did alright. Weeks passed.
Bob was a good enough hunter to add a few squirrels and rabbits to our diet, but he couldn’t find any larger game. His knowledge of edible wild plants was limited to a very small slice of the pre-Gilgamesh Middle East, so we stuck to meat. We weren’t afraid of dying, but we didn’t want to risk suffering.
Jack did what he could with his transfiguration power. He couldn’t just zap things into existence, but he was able to construct things out of stone and wood, so long as he had a basic understanding of how they should fit together. He’d taken underwater basket weaving in college, so he made us some sleeping mats, traps for small game and fish, and lots of baskets. Jack and Bob worked together to build a small shelter. Sleeping under a roof helped us stay sane.
Having neither wilderness skills nor telekinetic superpowers, I was dubbed the cook. It didn’t take that long to spit-roast a squirrel, though, so I did a lot of standing around and thinking. I regretted not stashing a marijuana inhaler in my pocket before we left Slack Heaven. Jack said that we resurrected with our meaningful jewelry because it was core to our identity. Wouldn’t the same have applied to me and my weed? Luckily, I’d gotten so much practice watching flowers grow in heaven, I discovered I could manage it sober. I wasn’t afraid to be alone with my thoughts.
Life wasn’t exactly difficult there, but maybe some difficulty would have been good, because the boredom started to gnaw at the other dudes. Bob coped by becoming increasingly feral. He stopped wearing clothes and started covering himself in mud—to mask his scent, he claimed—and he spent most of his waking hours traipsing through the woods in search of any meat bigger than a bread box.
Despite Bob’s contributions, we were clearly overfishing our little pond, so we started rationing even in the face of immediate abundance. Everyone was grumpy. We became increasingly anxious that Lucy wasn’t going to find us. We didn’t talk much, I think because we knew we’d end up talking about that. In silence, there was hope.
I was fond of visiting a nearby clearing alone at night to practice my bravery. I was less than proud of how I acted in hell, the way I burst into tears well before anyone even had the chance to disembowel me. So I made myself stand alone in the dark, intentionally thinking of all the monsters that scared me as a child—monsters I now knew were real. I was going to have to live with that knowledge for the rest of eternity, and it was going to take more than repression and cuddling with my mud-caked husband to get over it. So I stood out there and stared my PTSD in the face, daring it to come at me, until one night, it tipped its fedora and walked away.
After that, I came to value my time in the darkness for its own sake. It wasn’t really dark, you see. Even on a moonless night, once my eyes adjusted, the brilliance of the milky way cast enough light for me to avoid running into anything. The moonless nights were better, actually, since nothing got lost in high-contrast shadows.
It was around the fifth or sixth full moon since we first arrived that I met my woodland friends. I’d gotten used to the sounds of small creatures scuttling around me. Usually, I would just sniff and shuffle my feet to make whatever was nearby run away. But then one night a possum got brave and walked right past me. I made enough noise that it must have known I was there. It just didn’t care.
Nice.
A few nights later, it was a family of raccoons, five pairs of eyes glaring at me from the darkness before crawling into a rotted tree trunk. Some time after that, around daybreak, a bunny came hopping right up to my feet. Much to my delight, I fed it a flower, and it allowed me to pet it.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Bob you’re here,” I promised it.
I began spending all of my free time in that clearing. I supposed the wildlife were getting used to my smell. After watching a woodchuck go to town on some dandelions mere inches from me, I wondered if they weren’t in fact taking advantage of my smell, letting me scare away predators while they feasted in peace. I was happy to be helpful.
Full moons came and went, and I lost count of them sometime into our second year. Wherever we were didn’t seem to have seasons. The weather was usually comfortable, and the occasional rain was gentle and brief. I learned to be perfectly at ease in my clearing. The fresh air and the sounds of the forest got me as close as I could to being high—though weed would have certainly made it even more beautiful.
I was enjoying some late afternoon sunshine and fluffy clouds when a deer came barging into the clearing like it owned the place. It froze in its tracks when it saw me.
“It’s alright, I won’t hurt you,” I said.
The deer believed me. It lowered its head and started munching away. Bob would probably kill me if he heard I let venison get away, but I didn’t care. I was enchanted. After a bit, it walked close enough for me to touch it. I held up my hand and let it sniff. It nuzzled into my hand, and the next thing I knew, I was petting it.
Tears poured out of my eyes. In all my centuries of hanging out with literal gods, I’d never experienced something so magical. I was Snow Fucking White. Jack had his superpowers, and Bob had his lifetimes of competence, but I had the trust of the peaceful creatures of the forest. And I knew, deep in my soul, I’d take this over all the strength and bravery in the infinite world.
The deer reached around and nudged me in the ass.
“Hey now!” I laughed. “Maybe we should take things slow!”
It nudged me in the lower back, and I took a step forward. It trotted a bit ahead of me, then looked back at me, waiting.
“You want me to follow you?” I asked.
It turned and kept walking, so I followed. I heard a man singing.
The heavens are telling the glory of God!
And all creation is shouting for joy!
He was wearing a brown habit and robe, tied off with a rope with three knots in it. He had a wooden cross hanging from his neck, and a tonsure cut into his short brown hair. He was kneeling on the ground, digging up some kind of root vegetables and piling them next to him.
Come dance in the forest, come play in the fields!
And sing! Sing to the glory of the—
“Hello!” he said to me.
“Uh, hi,” I said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“That’s ok,” he said, standing to offer me a bandaged hand. “I’m Frank.”
“I’m Jo— Ze— Leif,” I said, shaking my head before shaking his hand.
“It’s not often I meet a fellow traveler out here,” Frank said.
“Oh, um, I’m not a traveler,” I explained. “We’re stranded.”
He picked up one of the tubers and began feeding it to the deer.
“Stranded?” he asked, looking around. “Is someone keeping us trapped here?”
“No, I mean—our ship crashed,” I explained. “We’re waiting for a friend to pick us up.”
“Oh! Well, this is certainly a beautiful place to wait, isn’t it?” he asked cheerfully.
I couldn’t help but eye the tubers.
“Are those...edible?” I asked.
“Should be,” he said. “Would you like some?”
“If you don’t mind,” I said. “All we’ve had to eat lately is meat.”
“I take it you’re not Catholic then,” he chided gently. “Here, come help me dig, and we can bring a share of God’s bounty back to your friends.”
The deer went about its business as I got down in the dirt to help Frank dig. I was also digging through my brain to figure out where I recognized this dude from.
“Hey, you’re not St. Francis of Assisi, are you?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m no saint!” he laughed. “Just a penitent beggar dedicating my life to the Lord for the forgiveness of my sins.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I guess I’ve just gotten used to meeting famous people.”
“I did live in a town called Assisi for awhile,” Frank said, “though there are hundreds of those, I’m sure. Here, help me load these up.”
He stood and lifted the front of his robe to make a pouch, and I filled it with our harvest.
“So, you’re travelling somewhere?” I asked as we headed back to camp.
“Wherever the Lord leads me,” Frank said. “Wherever the good news of Jesus Christ is needed most.”
“And the Lord lead you out here?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t He?”
“There’s nobody around to preach to,” I said.
“There’s you,” he said.
“I don’t think...maybe, um, hold off on the preaching when you meet my friends,” I said, trying to be delicate about it. “They’re really good guys, don’t get me wrong. You’ve got nothing to fear. But they’re...already aware of Jesus. They have their own opinions.”
“Ah.”
I felt like I just insulted the virtue of his mother, but he was still smiling.
“What about you?” Frank asked. “Do you have an opinion on Jesus?”
“He seemed like a decent guy,” I said, opting not to add when I met him.
“That He is,” Frank agreed.
The camp was empty when we arrived, and it was getting dark. I began to prepare dinner, placing the tubers directly on the coals of our campfire. I wanted to ask Frank more about how he ended up in these woods and, more importantly, if he knew a way out. But he knelt and started quietly reciting the Our Father. I didn’t want to interrupt.
Bob returned from hunting carrying two dead squirrels by the tails.
“A bunch of nutmunchers for a bunch of nutmunchers!” he announced.
“We’ve got a guest,” I said, nodding toward the praying friar. “He brought food.”
“Oh!” Bob said. “Then, uh, why don’t you get these going while I, um, put on pants.”
I was grateful that my husband could recognize when tact was called for. I cleaned the squirrels and put them on spits over the fire. Frank finished praying and joined me, and Bob returned shortly thereafter. He had both shirt and pants on, his pentacle was tucked away, and he’d even attempted to tame his hair.
After introductions, Bob pointed at Frank’s cross.
“Do you get the Network on there?” Bob asked.
“This is an icon through which I commune with the Lord, if that’s what you mean,” Frank said.
“But do you actually get a signal out here?” Bob asked.
Frank looked confused.
“We’ve been praying for months,” I explained, “but we’ve gotten no response. Any way of sending a message for help would be greatly appreciated.”
“Jesus always answers,” Frank said, “for those who have ears to hear.”
“Yeah but we’re not trying to get ahold of Jesus,” Bob said, “we’re trying to contact Luc—”
“—anyone who could get us out of here,” I said, interrupting just in time. “It’s just, we didn’t think the Holy Spirit reached out this far from civilization.”
“The Holy Spirit reaches everywhere,” Frank said solemnly. “Through every rock, tree and animal. Through the wind and the water, the sun and the moon. We are all connected through the web of God’s creation. Your prayers will travel on the wings of the birds, and on the backs of all creatures, great and small. It’s how you found me, is it not?”
“That does sound wonderful, but I’m talking technology, not theology,” Bob sighed, missing the literal significance of Frank’s last question. But it got me thinking, had I reached out using...deermail?
Soon the squirrels and tubers were ready.
“Jack, time to eat!” I called up the waterfall.
I was on high alert as Jack walked down the trail from the signal fire. Jack usually avoided overly pious Christians, and I wasn’t sure how he’d respond to Frank. But introductions went smoothly. Jack behaved himself and even expressed delight at the food.
“Thank Grandpa, fiber!” Jack exclaimed when he saw what I’d been cooking.
Frank didn’t seem fazed by Jack’s familial turn of phrase. Did he know who Jack was?
“Shall I lead us in prayer?” Frank asked.
Bob looked questioningly at Jack, but I gave them both a look that made it clear I expected us to defer to our guest.
“Please do,” I said, reaching out to hold hands with Frank and Bob. Jack begrudgingly held their hands as well, completing the circle.
“Let us pray with confidence to the Father in the words our Savior gave us,” Frank began.
Jack said, “Dad of heaven...”
Simultaneously, Frank said, “Our Father...”
Jack frowned, but Frank plowed on ahead without missing a beat, reciting the more traditional (though less authentic) take on his Dad’s prayer. Frank was the only one praying. I knew the words, but I felt like saying them would be taking sides in a fight I wanted no part of—like, way more so than whether I said trespasses or debts.
“...and deliver us from evil,” Frank said.
“Great!” Jack exclaimed. “Let’s—”
“Deliver us, Lord, from every evil,” Frank continued, “and grant us peace in our day. In your mercy, keep us free from sin and protect us from all anxiety, as we wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ. For the kingdom, the power and the glory are yours, now and forever.”
All three of us were staring at Frank, waiting to see if there was more.
“Amen,” Frank said, looking up with a smile.
Everyone else took a seat around the fire. I dished the food up onto our good plates (large rocks that Jack had zapped flat) and began handing them out.
“No, thank you,” Frank said when I got to him.
“But you’re the one who found the food!” I protested. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“Starving,” he said. “But tonight is the last night of the Lenten fast. I’ll eat my fill tomorrow, in celebration of the resurrection of our Lord.”
I stood there holding his plate, unsure of what to do with it.
“I guess I could get you a to-go basket, or...”
“When you leave this earth, you can take nothing that you have received, but only what you have given,” Frank said with a smile.
“I’ll eat it if nobody else wants it,” Bob offered.
“I’ll be able to find more in the morning,” Frank assured me.
Hesitantly, I scraped his portion onto Bob’s plate. I sat down on a log and started eating. The roots tasted like sweet potatoes. I never thought potatoes could taste so exquisite.
“You don’t have to fast, you know,” Jack said to Frank. “Dad doesn’t care.”
“I’ve taken a vow,” Frank explained, “to live in obedience, to observe the holy gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
“Yeah, you don’t need to do that, dude,” Jack said. “My Dad saves everyone who wants it, so long as they accept the offer. He doesn’t even expect you to take anything on faith, he will show up in person...”
“Indeed, our Father shows mercy to all in this age,” Frank agreed, “as he commands us to show mercy to our enemies. But in the age that will follow, when Christ comes in glory to judge the living and the dead, a man who has not made satisfaction through penance will have his soul torn from his body, and he will know anguish and tribulation the likes of which we cannot imagine.”
Frank continued smiling like he was high. The rest of us were stunned. Jack was frozen mid-chew.
“What a horrible thing to believe,” Bob said quietly.
“I assure you,” Jack said flatly, “our Father has no such intention.”
Bob and I had a few more bites in silence. Jack stared at his plate.
“I think I’ve lost my appetite,” he said. “I’m going for a swim.”
He stood up and stripped very deliberately, strode naked to the pool and dove in.
“Uh, it’s my turn to tend the signal fire,” Bob said. “I’d better get to it.”
He scraped the remaining contents of Jack’s plate onto his own, and took it with him up the trail. Frank continued to sit there placidly.
“Sorry, dude,” I said to Frank, “but I tried to warn you. They’re closer to Jesus than you might think, for what it’s worth.” I continued to eat.
“I can tell,” Frank nodded. “For if men say ‘no’ to the Father, but then do His will, they shall enter the kingdom and sit at the table He has prepared.”
I don’t know what came over me just then. But between all the talk of God’s punishment, my ongoing concerns about Jack, and my recent trip to actual hell, Frank’s last statement triggered me. I didn’t think he had any reason to know the answer, but I had to ask.
“Brother,” I said, nearly whispering, “I know Jesus will save us from hell if our souls say yes to his offer of redemption when we die. But nobody seems to know what happens in that time between death and new life. Nobody actually remembers saying yes. How can I be sure I’ll say yes when the time comes?”
“Brother, the answer seems simple to me,” said Frank. “Say yes to Christ every moment of every hour of every day of every year of your life, with all your mind, body and soul, and you will say yes to Him when it matters.”
“That would do it, I guess,” I said.
It seemed like overkill, if there was only the one time it mattered, but I had to concede that Frank’s approach would probably do the trick. I tried to imagine myself thinking of Jack’s Dad constantly. It seemed like it would just be creepy and obsessive. But I kept these thoughts to myself.
“I should be on my way,” Frank said, standing.
“No, please!” I said, standing to intercept him. “I know Jack comes off as a bit abrasive when the topic of Christianity comes up, but he’s a really well-meaning guy. I promise you, you’re welcome here as long as you’d like to stay. We could build you a tent...”
I felt foolish as soon as I said it. Did I just pull a Peter?
“You welcomed me,” Frank said. “That’s what matters, for you and your friends. For God sees all things, and will count all kindness when balancing the ledger. Remember that, my brother. God is always there. You just have to listen. Do you understand?”
I wasn’t sure I did, but I nodded. I was on the verge of crying. Despite Frank’s reassurances, I felt like we had all just failed an important test.
Frank raised his hand above me. Realizing a blessing was incoming, I bowed my head and closed my eyes. The habits ingrained in young Catholics die hard.
“May the Lord bless you and keep you,” Frank said. “May He show His face to you and be merciful to you. May He turn His countenance to you and give you peace.”
When I opened my eyes, Frank was gone.
Jack was still sulking in the pool, doing the back float with his eyes shut. I was in no mood to talk to him anyway, so I went for a walk.
Jack had always done so much to take care of me, practically from the day we met. And of course I loved him, and he loved me, and I was grateful for all of it. But wasn’t it his Dad who was out there suffering every day to save us from hell? And if Jack had a beef with his Dad, what did I risk by taking Jack’s side?
Jesus, what should I do?
I hadn’t really prayed to Jesus since long before I met Jack. For a moment, I expected a clear response. There had been a time once before when I thought I heard the voice of God, at my moment of greatest despair, so why not now? But no answer was forthcoming. Just like anyone who ever prays, I thought. When prayers are met with silence, it can be disappointing to think God doesn’t really exist. But when you know God exists, the silence is so much worse.
A sparrow flew over and landed at my feet, hopping around and pecking at the ground in the early morning light.
Was this an answer?
The sparrow flew up into a nearby tree. My heart racing, I followed. It flew ahead to the edge of my vision, then waited for me to catch up. This had to be intentional.
I continued following the sparrow as dawn woke up the forest, my thoughts focused on memorizing the path so I could find my way back. Eventually, I stumbled out onto a gravel road.
The sparrow was in a bush on the other side of the the road, and it flew deeper into the woods. I could continue following it. But...a road! I was torn. Follow the magic Jesus bird? Or, do the sensible thing and follow the road?
As caught up as I was in the notion that Jesus was responding to my prayers, I couldn’t help but hedge my bets. Maybe I was supposed to keep following the bird, maybe the bird was supposed to lead me to the road, or maybe the bird was just a bird, and finding the road was sheer luck. The weight of the possibilities favored following the road.
I was glad I did. Reaching the top of a hill, I saw the road lead up to an iridescent gate in a tall white wall. Beyond it was an open field, and off in the distance, houses.
I ran back to camp.
“Jack! Bob! Get your clothes on!” I shouted.
“What’s going on?” Jack said, stumbling out from our shelter.
“I found a gate!” I stammered. “A place! With...probably people! And hopefully a good Network signal!”
My mouth was running as I tried to explain while leading Jack and Bob back through the woods.
“...and I didn’t expect it would work but I prayed and a bird appeared and following the animals is what lead me to Frank who I’m pretty sure was St. Francis so I followed the bird and there was a road so I stopped following the bird and followed the road and—see!”
I pointed at the gate as soon as it came into view.
“You say you were praying to Dad?” Jack asked with a smirk.
“Yeah,” I said. “Why?”
“Because that right there is a Christian heaven.”
Next: Easter Eggs with Jesus’ Son
Doing Drugs with Jesus’ Son is always free.