Jodi Picoult - Change of heart

"Especially when the Church is going through its own identity crisis," Fletcher said. "I'm sure you remember how Irenaeus decided to unify the Orthodox Christian Church-by figuring out who was a true believer, and who was faking. Who was speaking the word of God, and who was speaking... well... just words?"

On a pad in front of him, Fletcher wrote GOD = WORD = JESUS, then spun it around so I could see. "Irenaeus came up with this little gem. He said that we can't be divine, because Jesus's life and death were so different from that of any man-which became the very begin 264 ning of Orthodox Christianity. What didn't fit this equation became heretical-if you weren't worshipping the right way, you were out. It was sort of the first reality show, if you want to think of it that way: who had the purest form of Christianity? He condemned the folks who got creative with faith, like Marcus and his followers, who spoke in prophecies and had visions of a feminine divinity clothed in the letters of the Greek alphabet. He condemned the groups that swore by only one gospel-like the Ebionites, who were attached to Matthew; or the

Marcionites, who studied only Luke. Just as bad were the groups like the Gnostics, who had too many texts. Instead, Irenaeus decided that

Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John should be the four cornerstone gospels of what to believe-"

"-because they all had a narrative of Christ's Passion in them... which the Church needed, in order for the Eucharist to mean something."

"Exactly," Fletcher said. "Then Irenaeus appealed to all those people who were trying to decide which Christian group was right for them.

Basically, he said: 'We know how hard it is to figure out what's true, and what's not. So we're going to make it easy for you, and tell you what to believe.' People who did that were true Christians. People who didn't were not. And the things Irenaeus told people to believe became the foundation for the Nicene Creed, years later."

Every priest knew that what we were taught in seminary had a

Catholic spin put on it-yet there was an incontrovertible truth behind it. I had always believed that the Catholic Church was evidence of religious survival of the fittest: the truest, most powerful ideas were the ones that had prevailed over time. But Fletcher was saying that the most powerful ideas had been subjugated... because they jeopardized the existence of the Orthodox Church. That the reason they'd had to be crushed was because-at one point-they'd been as or more popular than Orthodox Christianity.

Or in other words, the reason the Church had survived and flour ished was not because its ideas were the most valid, but because it had been the world's first bully.

"Then the books of the New Testament were just an editorial decision someone once had to make," I said.

Fletcher nodded. "But what were those decisions based on? The gospels aren't the word of God. They're not even the apostles' firsthand accounts of the word of God. They're simply the stories that best supported the creed that the Orthodox Church wanted people to follow."

"But if Irenaeus hadn't done that," I argued, "chances are there would be no Christianity. Irenaeus united a whole mass of fragmented followers and their beliefs. When you're in Rome in A.D. 150 and you're being arrested because you confess Christ as your savior, you want to make sure that the people beside you aren't going to turn around at the last minute and say they believe something different. In fact, it's still important today to figure out who's a believer and who's just a nutcase-read any paper and you'll see how anger, prejudice, or ego are all routinely passed off as the Word of God, usually with a bomb strapped to it."

"Orthodoxy takes the risk away," Fletcher agreed. "We tell you what's real and what's not, so you don't have to worry about getting it wrong. The problem is that the minute you do it, you start separating people into groups. Some get favored, some don't. Some gospels get picked, others get hidden away underground for thousands of years."

He looked at me. "Somewhere along the line, organized religion stopped being about faith, and started being about who had the power to keep that faith." Fletcher ripped off the sheet of paper with Irenaeus's equation, leaving a clear, blank slate beneath. He crumpled the paper, tossed it into his trash can. "You said that the purpose of religion was to bring people together. But does it, really? Or does it-knowingly, purposefully, and intentionally-break them apart?"

I took a deep breath. And then I told him everything I knew about

Shay Bourne.

Lucius

None of us were getting any sleep, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

Crowds have their own pH, and the remarkable thing is that they can change in an instant. The people who had been camping out outside the prison-who were featured in a countdown every night on the local news

(MR. MESSIAH: DAY 23)-had somehow gotten word that Shay had been hospitalized for an injury. But now, in addition to the camp that was holding a prayer vigil for Shay, there was a very vocal group of people who felt that this was a sign, that the reason Shay had been hurt so badly was because

God decided he had it coming to him.

They got louder, for some reason, after dark. Insults were hurled, fights were picked, punches were thrown. Someone sent the National Guard down to patrol the perimeter of the prison and keep the peace, but no one could shut them up. Shay's supporters would sing gospel to drown out the chants of the disbelievers ("Jesus lives! Bourne dies!"). Even with headphones on, I could still hear them, a headache that wouldn't go away.

Watching the eleven o'clock news that night was surreal. To see the prison and hear the resonant shouts of the mob outside echoing the broadcast on my television-well, it was like deja vu, except it was happening now.

There's only one God, people shouted.

They carried signs: JESUS IS MY HOMEBOY-NOT SATAN.

They were separated from the Shay loyalists by armed guards toting guns, who walked the fault line of public opinion between them.

"As you can see," the reporter said, "sentiment in support of Shay

Bourne and his unprecedented case to donate his heart is waning in the wake of his hospitalization. A recent poll done by WNRK news shows only thirty-four percent of New Hampshire residents still convinced that the courts should allow Bourne to be an organ donor; and even less than that- sixteen percent-agree that his miracles are divinely inspired. Which means that an overwhelming eighty-four percent of the state agrees with Reverend

Arbogath Justus, who's joining us again this evening. Reverend, you and the members of your church have been here for nearly a week now and have been instrumental in turning the tide of public opinion. What's your take on the Bourne hospitalization?"

The Reverend Justus was still wearing that green suit. "Ninety-nine percent of the state thinks you should burn that outfit," I said out loud.

"Janice," the reverend replied, "we at the Drive-ln Church of Christ in

God have of course been praying for Shay Bourne's speedy and full recovery in the wake of the prison attack. However, when we pray, we pray to the one and only Lord: Jesus Christ."

"Is there any message you have for those who still don't agree with you?"

"Why, yes." He leaned closer to the camera. "I told you so."

The reporter took back the microphone. "We've been told that Bourne will be released from the hospital in the next few hours, but doctors haven't commented on his condition... " Suddenly, a roar went up from both sides of the crowd, and the reporter covered her earpiece with one hand. "This is unconfirmed," she said over the din, "but apparently an ambulance has just driven into the rear entrance of the prison..."