The Revelation
Fr. Agustin encounters his ancestor in a dream.
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An excerpt of Fr. Agustin’s homily for the 12th Sunday of Ordinary Time:
Every decision we make does not merely affect ourselves. They also affect the people around us. The same is true for sin. Not only does it wound our relationship with God, but also with the Church. You might not see the consequences at the moment, but it lingers even in the shadows of…
I assumed that I was preaching a homily to an empty church. It turned out that I was not alone.
There was a hooded figure facing the statue of Mary. The black robe nearly hid within the shadows of the narthex.
I descended from the ambo and crossed the center aisle. This figure kept its eyes on Mary, as if he was a statue himself. I recognized the black and white Dominican robes as I moved closer. I was about to touch his shoulder, until I noticed translucent flames emanating from his person.
He finally turned to me, seemingly unphased that he was on fire. He removed his hood to reveal the classic tonsure of a religious man.
“You must be Agustin.” He said.
I recalled the pictures that Dr. Emilia found from all of her research.
“Yes, Father. You are Josue.”
He nodded. The flames continued to burn, yet they did not bite at his robes or his skin.
“In my time, I was known as Fr. Echevarria. However, it is rather refreshing to be simply called by my name.”
A pain interrupted his introduction. He sucked in air as if he had touched a hot stove. Yet as soon as the pain came, it left.
Josue looked around us.
“Your church is very quaint. It seems that they are designed with minimal adornment compared to my time.” He gestured while making his observation.
“Thank you…” I replied, unsure if this was a compliment.
“Tell me, Agustin: are you happy with this vocation of yours?”
Whenever I’m asked about my vocation, it is usually regarding when and how I knew that it was my calling. Happiness, while a natural result of answering God’s call, was never explicitly questioned.
“I heard God’s calling while I was in college. I was fully supported by my family and friends. It was not a seamless transition, since I was in a relationship at the time. But overall, I am happy to say yes to God.”
Josue’s pensive survey reminded me of the scrutinizing eyes of my professors in seminary. They often searched for something to criticize us: the fingernails were too long, or the beard was not groomed to their personal preferences.
Another grimace appeared on his face. The flames brightened every time he drew back. There was something bitter behind his dark eyes.
“Do not take for granted the blessing of freely choosing your vocation.”
He walked past me to cross the center aisle. The architecture suddenly transformed to a medieval style church. A veiled woman sat in the front pew, silently whispering a stream of prayers in Spanish. Josue stopped a few rows behind her, watching her piety.
“My mother and father struggled to conceive for years,” Josue began.
“So when my mother was pregnant once again, she prayed that the baby would be healthy. She attended every single mass to light a candle. Endless rosary beads passed her fingers for this one intention.”
The woman stopped praying and fixated on the cross. The detailed stripes of a crucified Christ was a hallmark of the Spanish crucifix.
“God answered her prayers twofold. Not only was the pregnancy successful, but she gave birth to healthy twin sons. As a sign of thanksgiving, my mother promised to offer one of us to the Church.”
He turned to me sharply.
“Her promise was the true origin of my vocation.”
Josue strided past me towards the exit. I followed behind him.
“Throughout my time on earth, I doubted His plan for me. I had many trials and tribulations during my formation, and for most of my priesthood. Juan de San Matias described this spiritual desolation as the dark night of the soul. This darkness afflicted me with temptation.”
He thrusted the double doors open, revealing a lively market in the middle of a plaza.
To our right, Martin and a young woman with striking hazel eyes strolled side by side. I watched Catalina secretly reach her hand out to his. I assumed that she was going to hold his hand. Instead, the back of her hand brushed against his.
“My brother lived a life I could never have, and so I lived through him.” Josue continued.
“His successes were my successes. His failures, my failures…”
Martin looked at Catalina adoringly. Though she looked forward, she offered an affectionate glance his way.
“ …His beloved was mine as well.” Josue finished, breaking an otherwise tender witness.
Another version of Josue followed behind the couple. A green incense appeared to trail behind his steps.
The flames grew bright, and the Josue next to me held himself through the pain.
“You ended Martin and Catalina’s engagement.” I concluded.
Remorse fell on his face.
“Yes.”
“But how? I have been working with a historian to understand our past. There’s no letter from anyone accusing you of your interference.”
“There was nothing written against me, but my brother was aware of my sins.”
“Martin knew all along?” Shock followed behind my question.
Josue shook his head.
“No. I am referring to my brother in Christ, Ignacio. Your historian found his letter, but his name was lost to history.”
A concerned voice echoed the open space:
…I witnessed him give her a rosary crafted out of onyx…his behavior has grown into a character of possessiveness…his countenance brings to mind the Biblical Cain.
“Ignacio attempted to reason with me. Yet my arrogance caused me to hate him when I should have hated my sins instead.”
Josue took an immediate right, as if to walk away from his admission. He flinched as he led me towards a breezeway. Yet another outburst from the flames. We crossed between its pillars and right into a spacious library.
Another version of himself had his back to us, sitting at a table by candlelight. Loose papers congregated around a familiar leather-bound book. This Josue dipped his pen into an ink bottle and scribbled around a family tree.
It wasn’t a literal tree, but rather names connected through a continual, branching line. Towards the bottom of this page was himself and Martin. Josue lingered over a blank space next to his twin. He rested the tip of his pen on the space, yet he seemed to resist the act of writing.
Suddenly, this Josue let out a cry of frustration. A scratch of paper was followed by a forceful closing of the book. The sound echoed across the library, only it grew with each repetition. The Josue sitting at the table stood on his feet on alert. The Josue next to me looked on knowingly.
Out of nowhere, wind shook open the book. The Josue in front of us jumped out of his seat and backed away. We all watched as the book flipped over to his family tree. Rays of green emanated from the page. The fearful Josue made the sign of the cross as he watched the chaotic spectacle. When it fell quiet, he cautiously approached the open book. I followed beside him and looked over his shoulder.
I caught a glimpse of fading text below Josue and Martin:
She should be my destiny.
“The curse might have orchestrated the events of their ruptured engagement, but my sins fathered its power.” He admitted.
“Though I confessed my sins and received absolution, I never revealed the nature of this book. Shame and guilt haunted me for the rest of my time on Earth.”
Josue led me out of the library and back to the medieval church. His mother was no longer there. He stopped in front of the crucifix, staring pensively at the crucified Christ.
“I foolishly believed that the consequences of my actions would pass once I had left Earth. The book continued to document our family legacy after my passing. And now, our descendants suffer because of me.”
I was certain that “our descendants” included Catalina’s.
“If you caused this, then it stands to reason that you can undo the curse. Are you not aware that because of it, Gael is hospitalized and Celia is in distress?”
He sharply turned to me, his face twisted in frustration.
“You, of all people, should know that I cannot intercede for them!”
Josue let out a cry as the flames grew the brightest I have yet to see. Even so, neither his clothes nor his body were affected. The flames diminished.
“God has been merciful to me, but I still need purification. I have no influence.”
For once, I felt pity for this man. He is my tío, and my vocational brother. In the end, he was a man who followed family obligations at the expense of his peace.
“You may not be able to intercede, but I refuse to let this curse continue to meddle with our family. Perhaps the key lies somewhere in your sins.”
I looked at the Crucifix to think.
“It certainly seems that it was His will for Martin and Catalina to be married, does it not?” Josue mused. He offered a melancholic smile to Christ.
“My mother would have loved to see me officiate their matrimony.”
An epiphany lit my face.
“Were you asked to officiate the wedding?”
He reacted to my question with a grin.
“My parents decided that I would officiate their wedding on the night I created that family tree.”
Hope grew brighter in my heart.
“If Martin and Catalina were meant to be married, and Celia and Gael are their descendants, then it stands to reason that they ought to be married to right what was wrong. ”
“Yes. And YOU must officiate their matrimony.”
Josue placed his flame-licked hands on my shoulders. I flinched, expecting to be burned. But the fire did not harm me.
“Make no mistake, they are crucial to undoing the curse. They are the true ministers of the sacrament. But you can fulfill what I refused to do all those years ago.”
There was a question nipping at the back of my mind.
“Gael still needs to recover from his aneurysm. Plus, their marriage is months away. What if something happens before the wedding day?”
Suddenly, everything around me began to darken. Whenever I’m about to wake, my dreams fade to black like it’s the end of a movie. Josue looked at me apologetically.
“I am truly sorry that I cannot protect them. But there are others you can ask for their intercessions.”
“Yes, I’ve been praying to Our Mother and St. Michael.” There was a slight panic in my tone. Everything went dark as Josue offered his last words.
“Celia and Gael need prayers from those who experienced the curse first hand.”
Part 14 / Part 16
There's lots of little details in this! Sounds like he's in Purgatorial fire and not hellfire, which is, you know, GOOD. Josue getting his posthumous redemption arc???? Celia and Gael not out of the woods yet but Fr. Augustin can be their hero?!?? This is a cool way of revealing details without ending the story--there's still stuff left to do! Looking forward to the next one!