Ch.351Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

**Be Your Own Master, Not Another’s**

“Be your own master, not another’s.”

Only you can be your own master; who else could take that place?

**One Who Masters Oneself Attains True Wisdom**

“One who masters oneself attains the law of true wisdom.”

Cultivate yourself to become your own master, and you will attain true wisdom and enlightenment.

-From the Dhammapada.

Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

When the difficult and perplexing question opened the main discussion, what arose in Lucia’s mind was doubt.

However, Lucia didn’t show it. Calmly steadying her breath like a librarian organizing scattered books, she composed her cluttered thoughts and began to speak.

“Your Holiness… I’m not sure exactly what aspect you’re asking about.”

“Saint.”

At the Pope’s sudden address, Lucia quickly raised her gaze.

Before her, Pope John XVI was looking at her with deep-set eyes, both hands resting on his staff like a sage.

“I believe someone as perceptive as you surely knows what I’m asking.”

“…”

“Please answer without concealment.”

The Pope said.

“Can you swear to speak truthfully here, without telling lies?”

Unlike a magician’s oath that binds the soul, a cleric’s oath carries no power or constraint.

However, words are like keys that knock on the door of the heart.

“…Yes. I will speak without any falsehood or concealment.”

Lucia answered that she would.

*

“You asked if our church is moving in the right direction? My answer is no.”

Lucia criticized the church directly, but the church’s leader did not rebuke her. It was the answer he had expected.

Although no one except the person making the oath could know whether it truly had any effect, the shrewd cleric could read the sincerity in those eyes as blue as the Sea of Israel, so the Pope simply nodded silently.

The Pope merely gazed into the distance with what appeared to be a sorrowful expression. The wrinkles etched on the back of his hand as he caressed the handle of his staff seemed particularly deep today.

“…Thank you for answering honestly.”

“I promised I would.”

The Pope suddenly smiled at Lucia’s matter-of-fact response.

He shifted his gaze from the distance to her.

“The more I see you, the more remarkable you seem.”

“Pardon?”

“You didn’t speak the truth, did you? Usually when I ask such questions, people either avoid answering or tell lies.”

A faint smile appeared at the corners of the Pope’s mouth, as if an interesting topic had occurred to him. John XVI mentioned a previous incident in his usual calm tone.

“Come to think of it, you were like this before too. Do you remember when we first met?”

“Yes. It was in the garden of the cathedral where the Holy See is located. There was a beautiful flower garden.”

“At that time, I made a suggestion to you. Do you remember that as well?”

A suggestion.

Looking back, Lucia had indeed received something like a suggestion from the Pope there.

“You suggested I smell the fragrance of the roses in the garden… Yes, I remember. You certainly made such a suggestion.”

“That’s right.”

The Pope, who had been caressing his staff, suddenly looked down at his feet. With a smile still on his face, he bent down and reached out his hand, allowing a small flower petal to gently brush between his wrinkled fingers.

It was a bright yellow wildflower.

Considering that the Tranquille Cathedral was maintained by gardeners, this wildflower must have sprouted from a seed carried by the wind.

Despite the still chilly weather due to the considerable wind, the wildflower had successfully pushed through the grass and proudly bloomed its petals despite the cold.

Following the Pope’s gesture with her eyes, Lucia absently thought that winter must be ending and spring arriving.

Her contemplation was interrupted by the Pope’s voice as he caressed the small wildflower.

“Isn’t it remarkable? That such a tiny wildflower endured the harsh weather and bloomed its leaves.”

“Yes, I think it’s truly remarkable.”

“If I were to suggest that you smell this flower’s fragrance, would you do so?”

“I probably would, Your Holiness. I’ve never seen this flower before, so I’m curious about its scent.”

John XVI smiled gently at her somewhat sentimental answer. He carefully moved his shoe and staff away from the flower so as not to damage the petals, and looked at Lucia.

“The Saint seems to enjoy looking at flowers and smelling their fragrance.”

“To be precise, I like flowers themselves. Observing their appearance or smelling their fragrance is just a way to get closer to them.”

“Then, to smell the fragrance of such a small flower, would you pluck it?”

“I probably wouldn’t.”

“Why wouldn’t you pluck the flower?”

“Because it’s a life.”

Lucia answered briefly. Her tone was confident, as if there was no need to dress up her words with logical reasoning or flowery language.

At this, John XVI, sitting across from Lucia, gently pulled up the corners of his mouth.

“Is that why you didn’t pluck the rose in the garden?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a first.”

“Pardon?”

What was a first?

Before she could organize her thoughts and voice her question, the Pope’s answer came first.

“Of all the clerics I’ve spoken with in the garden, you’re the first who didn’t pluck the flower when I suggested smelling its fragrance. When I suggest smelling the fragrance, everyone else hastily plucks the roses.”

“Me, you say?”

The Pope silently nodded.

“I’ve suggested it to all the bishops and cardinals. Incidentally, Raphael, my successor, also plucked the flower.”

“What about others?”

“Clerics, monks, and guards weren’t much different. Saint Veronica was also there at the time…”

At the sudden mention of Veronica’s name, Lucia urged him to continue, curious.

“What did she do?”

“She frowned in disgust, saying she couldn’t stand getting pollen on herself, and ran away. She said she was going to take care of something and left, but when she didn’t return for over an hour, the priests had a hard time searching for the missing saint.”

“…”

Recalling Veronica’s past of abandoning a tea gathering and disappearing, John XVI couldn’t hide his discomfort.

While Lucia blinked her blue eyes blankly at the unexpected answer, the Pope cleared his throat and continued speaking.

“In that sense, I want to express my gratitude to you. You’re the first person to give me an unadorned, sincere answer and to value even the smallest life. Congratulations, Saint. You have earned my trust.”

“Uh, um… thank you…?”

“There’s no need to thank me. I trust you as a person, but not as Pope.”

“What do you mean…?”

“You heard me correctly.”

The Pope said.

“As a cleric, I trust you, but as Pope, I do not have faith in you.”

“…”

“Also, as Pope, I trust my successor Raphael, but as a cleric, I do not. Do you understand the difference between these two?”

“…I don’t understand the difference, but I think I know one thing.”

“What is that?”

Lucia answered.

“The fact that Your Holiness doesn’t fully trust anyone.”

*

“You’ve hit the mark precisely.”

From a distance, the two might have looked like clerics engaged in a friendly conversation. But if one were to approach and observe them closely, they would notice something peculiar about the atmosphere of the dialogue between the Pope and the Saint.

In the garden, permeated with an odd aura of discomfort or tension, the Pope asked with a composed expression amid the awkward silence.

“You don’t seem curious about the reason.”

“To be honest, I am a little curious.”

“Then why don’t you ask?”

“Because I thought there must be valid reasons why Your Holiness doesn’t fully trust anyone, why you didn’t explain those reasons, and even why you’re telling me this.”

Lucia concluded with a calm voice.

“All of these must have their purpose.”

The Pope let out a faint sigh at Lucia’s resolute response. He brought the hand resting on his staff closer to his face, placing his lips on the back of his hand as if resting his chin, resembling someone deep in contemplation.

In fact, John XVI was half-absorbed in his thoughts. Lucia, aware of this, patiently waited for the Pope to organize his thoughts.

“…Humans cannot be free from their shackles.”

After a long silence, the Pope who finally spoke gently brushed his eyes. His white eyebrows trembled slightly as they were pushed by his wrinkled fingers.

“Even the most exceptional human cannot satisfy everyone. Committing sins, experiencing frustration, falling into corruption… Saint, can you claim that you’ve never committed a sin in your life?”

“No, I cannot.”

“Neither can I.”

The Pope discoursed on humanity.

“Humans are the only beings among all creatures made in the image and likeness of the divine. But unlike the omnipotent deity, humans commit errors.”

“Is that why you don’t fully trust others?”

There was no verbal response.

However, the Pope’s silent nod was answer enough.

“Your Holiness.”

Lucia said.

“Those who emphasize sin say that people cannot be trusted. But we are beings who live depending on each other. Without trust, we cannot depend on others, cannot love, and a life without people cannot exist. That’s why we must take time to build relationships. Because…”

“‘Trust is like a seed. You must plant it and nurture it for fruit to grow and be harvested.’ I know that saying too.”

It was bound to be familiar. It was a message delivered to believers worldwide through the Pope’s lips during last year’s New Year’s Mass.

However, the Pope himself seemed rather indifferent.

Despite Lucia quoting his own words, the Pope merely looked at her with a dispassionate expression.

“The essence of what I want to say is not about trusting others, Saint. Rather, it’s something more microscopic… Ah, yes. It could be described as a discussion about how humans view things.”

“You mean perspective?”

“Yes. You’ve identified it precisely.”

The Pope discoursed on human perspective.

“Humans can only see objects that enter their field of vision. Their sight becomes the standard for identifying and defining objects.”

A peak viewed from above might look like a small hill, but the same peak viewed from below might appear as the summit of a distant high mountain.

“Even when looking at the same beast, a short person might only see its legs, while someone with poor eyesight might only see a blurry shape. Humans identify and define objects based on the scenery that enters their field of vision. And that applies to me as well.”

John XVI discoursed on the position of Pope.

“In a narrow sense, I am an individual, and in a broader sense, I am a cleric and the Pope who protects the Holy See. But in protecting the Holy See, there are moments when I must make decisions that are difficult to contemplate as a human or as a cleric.”

Beasts of the field and birds of the air see the world differently, and even among the same species, if their positions differ, so does their field of vision. Humans are not much different.

“Over the past decades, I have committed countless sins while protecting the Holy See. I have abandoned those seeking help, and I have chosen not to walk the path of tolerance even when I could have.”

The Pope’s expression as he spoke was quite different from usual. Observing his solemn and grave countenance, Lucia carefully opened her mouth to ask a question.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I believed.”

The Pope answered.

“I believed that tolerance was a path of cowardly compromise and submission, and that I couldn’t save everyone who asked for help. I truly believed so.”

Turning a blind eye to the deaths of priests who, on the orders of the Papal See, went east to prevent religious wars.

Rejecting the documents of a cardinal requesting support from the Papal See to protect slums exposed to fierce civil war, in order to mediate conflicts between powerful nations over territories.

Arresting magicians as heretics while seeking to improve relations with the Magic Tower through the mediation of neutral countries, to prevent the rise of the Magic Tower and the division of the church.

The Pope thought all these actions were necessary and unavoidable. That was half true.

With a bitter smile, the Pope slowly raised his head.

“At the time, I believed it was justice. I had a firm conviction that I was fulfilling God’s will on this earth, that He was with me.”

“…”

“But for some reason, lately I sometimes think that He might not be watching over me anymore.”

To this, Lucia asks.

Why do you think so?

At this quiet question, Pope John XVI suddenly smiled.

“…The reason.”

Many reasons came to mind.

“As I mentioned earlier, as I’ve aged, I feel like I think more. It’s as if I now notice small things that I couldn’t see or missed before.”

Yes.

“It seems that my faith no longer resides deep in my heart. To borrow your expression, it feels like only religion remains, not faith.”

The aged cleric continued speaking in a calm tone.

“In the past, I always felt fulfilled after finishing a prayer. It felt like my inner self was filled with some warm energy. But lately… I feel nothing.”

“You feel emptiness, you mean.”

“…Yes. Emptiness. Isolation. It feels like being alone on a remote island in the vast sea, like my heart is completely empty. That’s exactly the right expression.”

No answer comes down even with daily prayers.

When feeling grateful for the given day, when hoping for blessings before undertaking a task, when praying for help to defeat a demon risen from hell.

As always, the deity does not respond to prayers.

“I’ve pondered for a while why I feel nothing. Especially after meeting you and discussing faith, religion, and confession, I’ve been thinking about it continuously. No matter how much I think about it, there’s only one conclusion.”

John XVI explained the answer he had come to.

“The deity is no longer with me.”

“…”

“Is it because I turned a blind eye, thinking it would be fine to ignore the corruption of the church? Or is it because I’ve committed numerous sins that shouldn’t be committed as a human? Perhaps… He is now questioning the sin I committed long ago by turning my back on my wife and child.”

“…”

“What’s certain is that He is angry because I’ve walked the wrong path. That’s why I cannot fully trust people.”

It’s not that he can’t trust others, but that he can’t trust himself.

Having lived for religion and deity, but no longer having the certainty that the deity is by his side.

The Pope doesn’t trust people. He cannot trust them.

Whether this is a belated regret for the past or an old man’s whim, no one knows. Only the Pope and the deity would know.

But.

Just as he had seen, she too had seen the distinct color dwelling in those deep-set eyes.

Lucia sat beside the Pope and silently listened to his story.

At that moment, John XVI, adjusting his grip on his staff, expressed his thoughts.

“Of course, I didn’t lie to you earlier. As a cleric, I do trust the Saint.”

“But as Pope, you don’t have faith in me.”

“That can’t be helped. The positions that a cleric and a Pope can hold are inevitably different.”

“…I understand.”

“As a servant of God and a cleric, I can only place unlimited trust in you. You have upright character, possess compassion and empathy, know how to be grateful for small things, and have the courage to fight against demons.”

There’s no need to praise me like that.

Lucia was about to say, but the Pope shook his head and replied that it wasn’t so.

“No, I truly think so. I can confidently say that if you were to stop any passing cleric and ask, they would likely say something similar. Above all.”

The Pope’s deep-set gaze turned downward. In the space cleared by his red shoes and staff, a small bright yellow wildflower was blooming.

“How could I say someone lacks the qualities of a cleric when they value even a tiny flower?”

“That… seems like an exaggerated interpretation…”

“You need to remember that others plucked roses without hesitation, claiming they wanted to smell the fragrance. Did the cardinals and bishops have any special reason for plucking the roses? No. They simply sacrificed a small life without hesitation to achieve what they wanted.”

“I’m concerned that you’re attaching too much significance to actions taken without awareness.”

“Actions that emerge unconsciously reveal the inherent nature of humans. Also, sin doesn’t disappear just because it wasn’t intentional. Just like how I turned my back on my wife and child.”

A faint regret permeated the Pope’s voice as he recited the past.

However, John XVI didn’t show it. Lucia also didn’t bring it up.

“That’s why I trust you as a cleric. But as the guardian of the Holy See, I find it difficult to readily place my faith in ‘Saint Lucia’ rather than ‘Father Lucia.'”

Lucia immediately grasped the meaning behind his words.

Trust as a cleric refers to trust as a human being. It’s about determining whether someone is trustworthy or not, encompassing their character, qualities, and personal aspects.

Conversely, trust as Pope signifies political trust. It’s about assessing whether someone qualifies as a bishop, cardinal, Pope, or saint, and whether they can lead the church well as a high-ranking cleric.

After a long silence, the Pope spoke.

His voice was calm.

“To be honest, I sometimes wonder if you, as a saint, can overcome the hardships and adversities that lie ahead.”

“Are you saying I don’t qualify as a saint?”

“No, that’s not it. I think you’re more than qualified. I’m just saying that merely having qualifications doesn’t make it possible to overcome obstacles. Especially in these turbulent times.”

He paused briefly, then continued.

“I can’t articulate it, but… I have an ominous feeling that the next few years will be the most difficult period for our church. I sincerely regret that you have ascended to sainthood during such a time.”

“How can that be Your Holiness’s fault?”

“If I had known a little earlier, perhaps I could have created a slightly better situation than now.”

A black magician has appeared after decades, disasters and wars are breaking out everywhere, and even demons that exorcist priests rarely encounter have emerged.

The confrontation between the Magic Tower and the church intensifies day by day, and the conflicts between religions with long histories deepen further. As mysteries have been unveiled, religious authority has declined, and now it’s rotting from within, tainted by secular influences.

And amidst this, a new saint is born.

“I’ve never acknowledged it before, nor thought deeply about it, but… I deeply sympathize with your opinion that our church is moving in the wrong direction. I also recognize the need for change now.”

“…”

“It won’t be easy to convince Raphael, the bishops, and the cardinals. There are people everywhere who resist change. I was once like that too.”

“It will change.”

“How?”

“It will change because I believe it will.”

There’s no certainty of being with God, and a vague anxiety about the future looms. The once vast divinity has dried up like a split riverbed, and the blessed body weakens day by day.

Unable to believe in oneself anymore, unable to trust others.

But if this very moment is the last chance granted by God.

At the edge of life, one could make a final move, risking everything.

So the Pope asks.

John XVI, leaning on his staff and standing on the rock with his aged body, looks at Lucia.

“Do you believe that the church can move forward on the right path?”

The Saint answered.

“Yes, I believe it will.”

“Can you endure the hardships that will come in protecting faith and conviction?”

Lucia, who had made the sign of the cross hundreds, thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of times, clasped her hands together.

“If it’s something that must be done, then of course I must do it.”

John XVI asked.

“Even when executing justice?”

“If that justice is for others, then gladly.”

“I entrusted my fate to God’s will long ago, but I believe your fate is still in your hands.”

The Pope nodded.

“I will believe in your conviction.”