The Omega Factor(6)
Andre nodded.
It was during the consolamentum that the Holy Spirit inhabited the Perfectus’ corporal body as a symbolic death from the material world and a rebirth in the Spirit. The ceremony was striking in its simplicity. Unlike other religious baptisms no water or anointing oil were required. No towering churches laden with idols, or priests clad in gold-embroidered robes. Only belief and devotion cemented the bond, most times administered in the forest, beside a lake, in the mountains, or before a hearth in the homes of those wanting salvation. Once done, any deviation from the righteous path and you were no longer a Perfectus. The journey to salvation had to be restarted. The consolamentum had to be immaculate, without blemish, that element necessary as a counter to the corrupt priests and bishops that had existed in the thirteenth century and whose profane acts were still allowed to go unpunished. The cursed Catholics had long considered the rite a distorted imitation of their own baptismal ritual. But that was not the case. Instead, the consolamentum dated back to the earliest Christian church, handed down from generation to generation without the interference of priests or popes.
“Pray God to make a good Christian of me, and bring me to a good end,” Andre repeated three times.
He’d been fully apprised on Andre Labelle by those who’d worked with him over the past three years. Thirty-one years old. Possessed of an arrest record. Petty theft. Assault. Disorderly conduct. Once a wild, impulsive man who never admitted a mistake living what some would say was a wanton, reckless life. Thankfully, he’d come to the attention of another Perfectus who’d started him along the right path. Andre had been born not far away to the south, in the Roussillon, where nature loomed larger than life and mystery reigned. An extraordinary place with a rich heritage full of all sorts of legends and tales involving Moors, Charlemagne, and Roland. Andre was reflective of the hearty stock bred there. A slim, muscular youth with dull black, curly hair and a flat nose that projected a tough-guy look. Only the dark eyes betrayed the clouds of pain that still haunted a troubled mind. But every report Bernat had received had noted an exemplary record and a deep dedication to the faith. The road to salvation stretched long and narrow, reserved only for those in full possession of their faculties and enjoying the support of the Elders, which Andre had earned.
Bernat stood from the chair. “Proceed with the melhoramentum.”
An Occitan word meaning “improving,” which began with an acknowledgment that the Holy Spirit dwelled within the Perfectus standing before you. An initiate had to believe that to be the case or none of what was about to happen would matter. Andre stayed kneeling on the carpet and folded his hands, bowing three times. “Bless me, Lord. Pray for me. Lead us to our rightful end.”
He provided the correct response. “In our prayers, I ask from God to make a good Christian out of you and lead you to your rightful end.”
“I will devote myself to God and the Gospel,” Andre said. “I will no longer eat meat, eggs, cheese, or fat apart from oil and fish. I will not swear any oaths and will never forsake the sect out of fear of fire, water, or death.”
“Do you have anything to confess?”
Part of the ceremony was a cleansing of the soul.
“Only that my pride and arrogance can, at times, still get the better of me.”
“We could all say the same thing.”
“But mine must be controlled.”
“Then do that. Without fail. Please recite the Pater Noster.”
Andre murmured the Lord’s Prayer. Bernat took the moment to step over to the desk and retrieve his Bible. He opened to the Gospel of John, then held it above Andre’s head as had been done for centuries by other Perfecti. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
Andre began to tremble.
“The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. There was a man sent from God whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all might believe. He himself was not the light, he came only as a witness to the light. The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.”
Andre’s head stayed low, to the floor, accepting the Holy Spirit into his heart, cementing his choice to become a Perfectus.
Now the most important part.
“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. He cried out, saying, ‘This is the one I spoke about when I said, “He who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.”’ Out of his fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given. For the law was given through Moses and grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” He paused and allowed the moment to take hold. Finally, he asked, “Are you at peace?”
Andre rose up but stayed on his knees. “Totally.”
“Stand.”
Andre came to his feet and Bernat stepped close, reverently laying the Bible atop Andre’s head and gently kissing him once on each cheek.