*****
The mural always had a way of calming Janison's mind and opening his heart. When Stalling approved the construction of the campus chapel, Janison had the budget to create a house of worship as resplendent as St. Pontivail's or even Flaterious Cathedra.
Of course, it would have not been of the same scale or magnitude, but no less breath taking. He admits, at least today, that the young acolyte in him was more than tempted. He had always been enchanted by the pageantry and ornate treasures captured within those prestigious cathedrals. In the end, he listened to his liberal sensibilities and created an atmosphere that would foster his interpersonal relationship with God. He wanted a place of worship that fostered a personal connection to God and always challenged that relationship according to growth and culture.
The chapel Janison chose to build was a contemporary version of those built in the beginning, when the Church of Salvation was less than a century old. I was a time when Leviatus was revered as merely a man. A self-actualized, enlightened man, capable of feats no person before him or since has ever accomplished, but a man all the same. So the house of worship Janison built resembled those first established by each of the Six Apostles and their devout followers. The maverick communities served by monks, dedicated to spreading Leviatus's timeless teachings of love and compassion.
Therefore, it was to be a modest, limestone chapel, with an octagon shaped nave. A small, eight-sided alter sat in the middle while a simple pulpit was centered on the north wall opposite the short narthex. The imported block-glass creating the ribbon window along the top of each wall and the mahogany doors, pews and rails were the only opulence separating it from the humble, original blueprints. That and, of course, the mural depicting the "Homily in the Valley" painted on the wall behind the pulpit.
In Janison's opinion, the artist did nothing short of capturing the divinity surrounding the historic event. It was truly a beautiful portrayal of Leviatus in his greatest moment. Before the famous scene took place, Leviatus had been on the run for over a year. Hunted like an animal, his few followers at the time imprisoned or killed, he sought sanctuary from whomever would provide it. Yet he still compelled to teach once he arrived in the small hamlet of Drakarle.
With painful detail, the artist captured the Retriach Mountains in the background. Leviatus sat before the Tree of Enlightenment with the Apostle Drestan, an infant at the time, resting on his belly across his knee. Radiant sunbeams shined down as Leviatus preached the Way of Life to the soon to be anointed Six Apostles and their families.
If not for the perseverance of those six souls, Leviatus and his message would have been lost in obscurity, a footnote in history.
Would I have been as faithful under the same circumstances? Would I have risked the painful, elongated death of me and my family?
In a very similar way, the hollowed shell of what those original founders fought so hard to establish challenged his contemporary faith today.
But my faith has yet to be fully tested.
The sound of Antone entering the narthex halted his ruminations. No need to turn around to confirm who it was; Antone's presence filled every room he entered. The tranquility of the moment was gone, replaced by the suppressed fear he had in seeing his friend again. Janison tried to calm his nerves as he listened to Antone cross the room and stop directly behind him.
"You've come to pray with me?" Janison asked after a long minute of silence.
"It’s time to go," Antone replied, flat and level.
Yes, it is time. Janison stood up from his pew and turned to face his friend. He never saw which fist smashed into his nose; it could have been a right or left for all he knew. Nor did he recall flipping over the pew behind him. All that registered was the sudden pain throbbing in his nose and the back of his head. Through the tears that had instantly appeared after impact, Janison looked up to see Antone standing above him. He threw Janison a white handkerchief and pulled his white cuffs free from the sleeves of his sport jacket.
"Get up, it’s time to go," he said in the same monotone.
"I see you are still being punished by your anger," Janison said to his friend's back, awkwardly getting to his feet as he pressed the handkerchief to his nose.
Antone stopped in his tracks and turned back around. His lip curled up into a nasty sneer as he placed thumbs on hips and flared out his elbows. Janison's regret in antagonizing the man further was immediate. He recoiled from the taut body, prepared to strike.
Antone relaxed in response to Janison’s pathetic attempt of defense and simply asked, "Why Janison?"
The question hurt more than any punch. I knew the immediate impact of my recent actions would hurt Stalling, but I never feared he would find a way to empathize with my struggle. Not only did he move on, he managed to find a positive to it all. Antone is a different animal altogether but the one friend I desire back in my life more than he could ever know.
Janison stood taller, dabbed his nose that now bled freely from both nostrils and a gash across the bridge, and answered his friend as best he could. "I made a mistake. I do not regret the spirit in which it was made but I now realize it was not a good decision."
"When I first met you, you were no different to me than any other self-righteous, entitled Drakarlean. Your devout faith only confirmed this initial perception. But it was not so, was it Janison?"
Janison knew better than to answer the rhetorical question. He simply stood there, one hand held to his nose while the other probed the goose egg forming on the back of his head. Prepared as he thought he was for this confrontation, his knees still buckled in anticipation for what Antone said next.
"No, you introduced me to a Leviatus that broke through all the bullshit. You provided substance, real life meaning, to what it meant to treat others as I wanted to be treated; to not judge others; to love my enemy!" Antone spat. "Eh, Janison? Isn't that what you taught me?"
"Nothing I have done has changed any of the truth behind those lessons," Janison replied with weak conviction.
"Save it for some other puppet! I have learned the only lesson that will ever matter from you or your make believe prophet. Shame on me if I ever have to learn it again." Antone straightened, brushed his hands down the front of his sport coat and popped the collar of his starched white shirt.
Once composed, he addressed Janison in the same tone reserved for a disrespectful underling. "Let’s get a few things straight. Stalling trusts you. I do not. I don't begin to think I understand the layers of experiences the two of you share that would result in your return. If Stalling says we need you to pull off this final step, then so be it. And once we are done," Antone paused with a coy smile, "well, nobody knows better than you do just how irrelevant your fantasy will have become to the world."
Janison watched Antone walk back out the narthex without another word. "On the contrary my friend, once we have completed our mission, Leviatus and his teachings will mean more to the world than ever before," Janison said to the empty chapel. He turned around turning and followed his old friend.