"If someone had
wanted me dead he would have missed a good chance when..."
Approx. 1,409 words.
For the Love of God
©2004 by W. E. Lopez
Father Carlos Catalina crashed
through the heavy underbrush lining the tropical shore. He was incensed by his talk earlier today
with Monsignor Felipe de Hidalgo, when Carlos reported the wanton killing of
innocent natives by men of the small fleet consisting of four carabelas.
“Your pardon, Monsignor, but the men
have been using the natives simply for sport, killing them as if they were no
more than targets for them to practice upon.
It is wanton slaughter!”
“Carlos, my son, Capitano de Mendana
has been informed of the edict issued by His Holiness in Rome; if indigenous
natives cannot be converted to Catholicism, they may be destroyed as enemies of
the Church for they have no soul, and God will not think unfavorably of his
Christian Emissaries.”
“I cannot believe God in His mercy
would condone the slaying of His Children, Monsignor! These are Children of God! They are human beings! You, as the venerated spiritual counselor of
our fleet, must surely be more aware than I; the twentieth chapter of Exodus
clearly explains the word of God and commands us not to commit murder! Will not you attempt to persuade Capitano de
Mendana to restrain his men?”
“Carlos, do not question the wisdom
of His Holiness, for only He can correctly interpret the scriptures and we, as
ministers of the Church, are bound to spread the Word and Faith throughout
civilization. In this enlightened age of
discovery, we have met pagan worshipers who are an abomination in the sight of
the Lord. His Holiness has decreed they
shall be given the opportunity to accept the True Faith, and if they will not,
if they refuse, they must be destroyed lest they destroy the Church.
“Capitano de Mendana has but a
handful of men, scarcely more than four hundred, while the native population
exceeds fifty thousand! For the
protection of our fleet, he must strike fear into the heart of all the non-believers. It is a matter of self defense.”
Realizing he could not dissuade the
Monsignor, Carlos begged his forgiveness and asked to be excused. The rest of the afternoon Carlos tried to go
about his duties as if nothing had changed, but secretly he had made up his mind
to quit his ship and the fleet of Capitano de Mendana and to take sides with
the natives. The Spaniards had been
among the islands Mendana named for his patron, Islas de la Marguesas for three
months as they loaded provisions of fresh fruit and water aboard the
boats. Father Catalina and the other
priests assigned to the fleet spent much of their time learning to converse
with the natives of the twelve islands, but three months was hardly time enough
to develop a working vocabulary that would encompass the spiritual meaning of
life. The fleet would soon sail into the
vast Pacific on their voyage of discovery, but Catalina would remain behind and
treat friendly with the natives to bring them salvation and resurrection.
When the sun set and night descended
upon the islands, Father Catalina waited until the brilliant tropical moon had
slipped beneath the waves, and then he had slipped over the side of the
boat. He wore his coarse wool robes and
carried his most treasured possessions, his crucifix and Holy Bible, wrapped in
oil-skin as he swam the short distance to shore, quickly disappearing into the
heavy brush.
"If
someone had wanted me dead he would have missed a good chance when I was
helplessly slipping over the side, or weighted down as I swam ashore,” Father
Catalina thought. “Surely God has
blessed my mission and protected me when I was most vulnerable.”
When the
four vessels were blocked from view by the trees and vegetation along the
shore, Father Catalina began to relax.
He knew where the main village lay, not far along the trail beside a
clear brook tumbling down the verdant mountainside on its way to the sea, but
he could not seek refuge there because the Spaniards had earned the enmity of
the natives by their senseless killings.
He would have to make his way further into the mountains where he knew
the natives would respect a man of God and he would grow to love them as his
children under God while he brought them to salvation.
Working his
way along the side of the mountain, as the sun began to spread a diffusing glow
along the Eastern horizon, Carlos felt buoyed by his decision to remain with
these beautiful people. The day promised
to be as glorious as all days are in this paradise created by God, and he would
soon find friends with which to revel in the beauty of creation.
Carlos
pushed his way past a fruit tree the natives called “mango,” ducking beneath a
low hanging branch. Too late he became
aware of the sound of movement to his right, but he was startled only briefly
before the heavy war-club, stitched with broken coral bound to its killing
edges struck him behind the right ear.
Father Catalina fell to the ground, dead before his cracked skull hit
the earth.
* *
*
“Why did
you bring the corpse back to the ship?” First Officer Juan de Silva asked the
shore party in the lighter below the rail.
“He is a
man of God,” Manuel Ortega answered.
“Surely he deserves the Last Rights and a Catholic burial?”
“Yes, yes,
of course, but you should have left him ashore and summoned the Monsignor to
conduct the services. Now get him away
from here before the smell begins to overwhelm the Captain! I’ll see to it the Monsignor comes ashore
directly. Be sure to place the body in
the shade before the sun swells it up like an over-ripe peach!”
“Aye, sir,”
Ortega answered and directed the oarsmen to push off and row the vessel back to
shore. Damned officers! All they cared about was their scented linens
and not one peseta for the sailors and men.
De Silva
went below to the Monsignor’s cabin and softly knocked. “Father
“Eh, de
Silva?” came the quiet voice from beyond the door. “Please enter.” Juan removed his braided cap and ducked
through the door-frame to meekly confront the priest.
“I’m afraid
I have bad news, Monsignor. Father Catalina’s
body was found ashore this morning. The
shore party returned him to the ship, but I instructed them to return him to
the beach for you to conduct burial services.
I’ll have the assistant to the fleet surgeon prepare the body for burial
and send a work party to prepare a grave.”
“Poor
Carlos,” Monsignor
“Your
pardon, sir?” de Silva asked. “I was not
aware Father Catalina was troubled.”
“It is of
no consequence, de Silva. Father
Catalina was upset by the wishes of His Holiness and felt he could better serve
the natives among these islands. He was
committed to bringing the word of God and salvation to these heathen
devils. I commend his ambitions for the
Church, but he failed to ask the heathens if they wanted to be saved!”
* *
*
It is not
my intention to find fault with the Catholic Church. Throughout history, all churches have at
times behaved shamefully toward non-believers.
Only recently, with the advent of worldwide communications, have some
institutions been held up to public scrutiny, forced to yield to public
criticism and admit other cultures have the right to other beliefs without fear
of reprisal.
Spanish
Explorer Alvaro de Mendana did indeed arrive in the