Death & Restoration

Fathers Jean and Xavier sat facing each other in the hospital room, neither really knowing what to say. Father Xavier seemed tranquil and content, Father Jean was more perturbed. It was a lot to absorb, to be told that your superior general had acted in a way which was so—well, immoral. To go against the perfectly clear and unambiguous vote of the council, however narrow the majority, was shocking. Unheard of, in fact. It was even more disturbing that Xavier had chosen to tell him, of all people. The person who was most likely to act on the news. It was exactly what he’d wanted, of course; a handle to stop the man’s reforming tendencies.

And he couldn’t do it. There was no secret of the confessional involved, of course; but in the past few days he’d thought hard, reconsidered his own behaviour and judged it savagely. Had he known this a few days ago, it would have been very different. Now he felt that he should apologize, not the other way around. Rather than give his unquestioned obedience, as was Xavier’s due, he had done his best to undermine his authority. He had caused this situation, and was responsible, every bit as much as the superior.

“I will of course resign as head of the order,” Father Xavier said after a while. “And I am sure you will be elected in my stead. Perhaps that would be the best.”

“This may come as a surprise, but I would beg you to reconsider,” Father Jean replied quietly. “This whole business was unfortunate, but I do not think you should resign. I was as much at fault as you, for not giving you the support that was your due. I am prepared to say so in council.”

Father Xavier looked up, half wondering what his old foe was up to now. “That is kind, Jean. But no use, I’m afraid. I will have to relinquish the post. My error was too great, and is bound to become public knowledge eventually. I do not wish to bring dishonour on the house. And, of course, my injuries will not mend so quickly.”

“The doctors say you will make a full recovery.”

“Eventually, no doubt. I hope so. But it will take time, and in that period I will be quite incapable of discharging my duties. It would be very much better if I stepped down. You must take over.”

Father Jean shook his head. “Not long ago I would have grabbed the opportunity with both hands,” he said with a faint smile. “But now I must conclude that I am not an appropriate person to lead us. I am too old and hidebound. If we choose someone else, and choose well, this episode can become a great turning point for us, rather than a period of sadness.”

“We?” Father Xavier said. “We? I feel that you do not mean the council when you use that word.”

“No. If we can decide on someone, and both recommend him, then the council will agree. You know that as well as I do.”

“If we can agree. Who would you recommend?”

Father Jean shook his head, and drew the chair closer to the bed.

“How about Father Bertrand?” he asked. “A man of no known political views and a good administrator.”

“And someone dedicated to his hospital in Bulgaria. You’d never get him to agree to come back. A good man, of course, but not for us. I thought maybe Father Luc.”

Father Jean laughed. “Oh no. A saintly man, I admit. But he makes me seem radical. We’d be up all night flagellating ourselves with birch rods again if he took over. No, sir. Spare us from Father Luc.”

“Marc?”

“Too old.”

“He’s younger than I am.”

“Still too old.”

“Francois?”

“Terrible administrator. We’d be bankrupt in a year. More bankrupt.”

They paused for thought.

“Difficult, isn’t it?” said Father Xavier.

“What we need is someone new, not wedded to any faction, who could bring in fresh ideas. All these people we’ve been suggesting, they’re no good at all. We all know exactly what they’d do. We need someone from the outside, in effect. Someone as different as Father Paul.”

Father Jean made the suggestion carelessly, but once it was made, the name reverberated around his brain. It was a shocking idea, he knew.

“He’s in his thirties, has no experience of administration, no constituency in the order, he won’t want the job and he’s an African.”

“Exactly,” Father Jean said. Now the idea had occurred to him it suddenly gripped his imagination almost irresistibly. “He’s neither a reformer nor a traditionalist. The reformers will like him because he’s enthusiastic about missions. The traditionalists will like him because he’s very orthodox liturgically. When he’s not in Africa, anyway. Heaven knows what he gets up to there. And he’s a good man, Father. He really is.”

“I know. Father Charles spotted him, did he not? Brought him in? I was doubtful, I must say, but I’ve grown to like him.”

“The only hesitation I have is about what people will think,” Father Jean said. “An African? The youngest superior we’ve had for three centuries?”

“Perhaps it’s time not to think of such things. Besides, I hate to be practical, Jean, my friend, but it’ll make us the most talked-about order in the church. Think of what that will do for recruitment.”

“Is he up to it, do you think? I must say, I believe he is. More than anyone I can think of. He has dedication and integrity. And common sense.”

Xavier folded his hands on his stomach with satisfaction. “He will do very nicely,” he said with finality. “Especially if we give him our support.”

“Will you?” Father Jean asked, conscious that a momentous decision was on the verge of being taken. “Give him your support?”

Father Xavier paused for a fraction of a second, then nodded. “With my whole heart.”

“And so will I, then.”

Father Xavier chuckled for the first time in days. “In that case, we have a new leader. We need to draft some memoranda for the committee. For my sake, I would like it done as quickly as possible. This afternoon, even. A letter from myself stepping down, and a joint note from both of us recommending Father Paul. I will make a few phone calls when you leave, but you will have to run the meeting. The problem is Father Paul himself.”

Jean shook his head. “I think it would be best not to tell him in advance. He would only refuse to stand. If it’s sprung on him in the meeting and we have a quick vote … well, he won’t have any choice.”

Xavier lay back in his bed. “My goodness, Jean, my goodness. This’ll make the Jesuits sit up and take notice.”

Father Jean stood up to go, feeling as though an immense burden had been taken from his shoulders. With a small tear in his eye, he clasped his former leader’s hand, and shook it firmly. “I’m so glad,” he said. “Do you know, I believe we have been guided?”