Snarky Theolgy 6: Easter: HE IS RISEN

Today's work of art is provided by the ever-charitable Matthew Funtime.  I don't know about you, but I find it funny as heck.  But then again, I am quite possibly a sick, sick man.



And it's Easter, so there.



When I first started this blog series, I promised you I would introduce you to the rabbit hole that is my faith, but I wouldn't shove anything down your throat as far as my belief in it.  This still holds. I'm going to do a little walkthrough on the story of Easter Sunday.  Pretty much it.



As mentioned in my surprisingly popular blog post on Lent, Easter is more of an estimated time, and it's conveniently located at the start of spring.  Or, if you live on the East coat of the United States, when spring is supposed to start.  It was put in near Passover, and there were a whole bunch of computations put into the matter that I don't pretend to understand. 



I want to say it was programmed up against a pagan Roman festival of Ester, though I think I may have had my wires crossed there, if only because the Catholic church did something similar with Christmas, put up against Saturnalia, a pagan feast that involved an orgy of food and drink and other things that happen at orgies -- it's still celebrated as the office Christmas party.



Anyway ....



So, when last we left our Deity, He was about six feet under.  More accurately, He had been put into a cave, a tomb on loan to him from Joseph of Aramathea -- a wealthy businessman, disciple of Jesus, and he was either unconcerned about sharing a crypt, or he figured he'd only be loaning it out.



Also, someone was intelligent.  When Jesus was put into the crypt, one of the Sanhedrin suggested that "Well, this Jesus guy hinted that if we put Him into the ground, He'd come back.  Might we suggest a few guards to make certain that none of the groupies steal the body?"



Since politics were, in large part, the reason for putting Him into the ground in the first place [see last week], this seems like a reasonable suggestion.  If Fred Phelps ever made a suggestion about coming back from the dead, when he died, I'd want an armed guard just to make sure he'd stay in the ground, one way or another.



Also, while Jesus was getting the heck beaten out of Him, His acquaintances, are, largely, nowhere to be seen.  The women in His life are the only ones who moved within swinging distance. His Number Two man has already sworn up down and sideways that "Nope, don't know Him, never saw Him, no idea what you're talking about, bye," thereby setting a standard that church bureaucrats never fail to live up to.



So, the moral of the story thus far is that you can be a good little boy all your life, and still get nailed to a set of 2x4s, while all of your friends pretend you never existed. 



Sounds like high school. 



So, this God is so wimpy, weak, and pathetic that He gets publicly humiliated, whipped, beaten, and publicly executed next to the Hekyll and Jekyll of death row, and His backup are rejects from the Keystone Kops.



Let's say that it's about thirty-six hours after the 2x4s when the story gets interesting.  Mainly because the Twelve apostles are (1) down to Eleven and (2) are busy hiding in their hotel room, hoping that they don't find themselves in a similar position to the guy they'd been hanging out with for the previous three years.



Maybe they didn't think the crypt had seating for twelve.



So, the Roman soldiers are on guard at the tomb, like most guards, are bored out of their mind.  They don't fall asleep, because Roman soldiers are, more or less, the equivalent of marines, only the penalties for slacking off on duty are tougher.  Much tougher. 



And then ... why did the earth just move, and why is the tomb now empty?



I don't need to be a mind reader, a psychic, or posess any measure of ESP to telling you exactly what went through the minds of those soldiers at that moment. 



"No es in profundus feces."



Or, in English: "Oh darn.  We're in trouble."



Hmm, now what?  These Romans, who have been shipped to the back end of the Empire, have no interest in taking any more abuse from the locals, and really didn't want to be parked in front of a grave all night long in the first place, probably pondered their options.  They could either (A)  go to their nearest Centurion (Sergeant), and get the heck kicked out of them, or, (B) "You know, those old Jewish guys wanted the dead guy watched.  Maybe they can come up with something."  The story goes that the Sanhedrin came up with something perfectly reasonable -- "Just say you fell asleep, the body was stolen, and here's monetary compensation.  Since, let's face it, if you say that the guy just vanished from the crypt, well, what's Latin for 'funny farm'?  Yes you'll get a beatdown, but this should make it worth your while."



A few hours later, after dawn, two of Jesus' closest female associates come up to the tomb and find it empty.



Their first thought: "They stole Jesus!  Those bastards!"



Soon after, Jesus pops up again.  "Yes, I was dead, but I'm feeling much better."



In theory, it could have been mass hysteria and people seeing things ... but no one ever hallucinates the same thing when there's mass hysteria.



Also, I'm trying to imagine those eleven boneheads called the apostles sitting in a room.  Their dead friend came in, walked through the wall, had an extended chat with them, and ... they never compared notes on what just happened?  Not impossible; the apostles were never a brain trust, but I think something like that would make most people take a step back, reevaluate their sanity, and compare notes....



And, of course, someone could have stolen the body ... why they would have stolen the body would make sense if I could believe any of the original bozos as having the potential to be Fred Phelps in progress.  After all, if Jesus didn't pop up of His own accord, it would have been obvious that, nope, no Messiah here.  They would KNOW that they were part of a fraud, risking their necks for a hoax. So, that would be sort of stupid.



The only reason I can come up with to disappear the body would be as part of as a massive power play ... Considering all of the candidates for such a conspiracy ended up being crucified, fed to the lions, and having been immortalized in the Bible as not being the brightest lights in the night sky, I'm thinking .... no.  After all, the apostle Peter turned out to be the leader of this ragtag bunch of fishermen and ex-thieves.  His nickname translated as "The Rock," or "Rocky," or, perhaps most accurately, "Rockhead."  He ended up being crucified himself.



Welcome to the moral of Easter: you have Heaven and Glory ... though you're still going to have to go through a Good Friday of your own, even if it's only death.



Narrative-wise, the Easter story makes sense.  The story is now back when the Bible begins.  As we see in Genesis, the point is ..... People Are Stupid ("I tell you don't eat the apples, was that so hard?").  And that the God of Abraham does not come in a show of force.  He comes in a gentle breeze.  He doesn't pick an empire and adopt it, but a bunch of nomads and farmers.  He picks a stuttering nervous wreck found floating on the Nile.  He picks the smallest and weakest boy of a family of brothers, from the smallest tribe.  You have the thing with the 2x4s, and the Twelve morons.  And there were more wars for survival fought over the years, it looks like everything AFTER the 2x4s meant a problem once every hundred years or so.



Welcome to the Catholic church.  Everywhere you don't want us to be....



What, you thought I was going to end on an uplifting, soulful note?  Sorry, wrong blog.



This concludes my Snarky Theology posts.  I hope you've enjoyed reading them.  I've enjoyed them so much ...



I hope to never do it again. Thank you.



Next week, I will not be doing a blog.  I will post a short story.  One for Sean A.P. Ryan.  Which means there will be blood.



A Pius Man, slipping theology and history in between the gunshots since ... well, whenever I get published.



See you next week.

Snarky Theology 5: The Passion, Jews, and Good Friday.

Yes, I know I considered doing a post on Atheists, but it didn't really fit into snarky theology.  More like snarky good behavior...



This Friday is Good Friday, so guess what I decided to do instead.



You got it, we're looking at the last 24 hours of the pre-Mortem life of Jesus of Nazareth...



Yes, pre-mortem, as opposed to the postmortem life.  Back when I started these Snarky Theology blogs, I told you I had lived in a strange sort of rabbit hole. 



This one is going to be blogged more or less by random trivia I've had kicking around in the back of my head for a while now, so forgive me if there are any minor mistakes.  I would hope no one would try to use me for a footnote on a historical paper.  And, once again, this is my attempt to translate, to the best of my ability, Catholic theology into plain English.  If I thought Catholic education was worth a darn as far as educating Catholics in their own religion, I probably wouldn't bother.  But I don't, so, here we are.



Now, as far as Good Friday is concerned, that particular story has gotten a bad rap in the last few years, thanks to one particular film.



Does anyone remember when the film  The Passion was released by oddball, drug addict, and possible nutcase Mel Gibson?  Before the movie even premiered, people kvetched.  They talked about “passion plays,” they discussed pogroms, they whipped out everything that tried to say that the film was anti-Semitic. There are even a few idiots out there who try to say that Christianity, by its very nature, is anti-Semitic.



I saw The Passion with my friend Jason Bieber, who is an observant Jew.  When he saw the film, his commentary focused more on the bad acting of all the Romans, and was full of trivia about everything that had ever happened to actor James Caviezel during the filming of the movie (arm dislocated, flayed, struck by lightning).



Now, Professor Jason Bieber, currently of Florida State University's London Study Center, gave his evaluation of the history of anti-Semitism, which I think could be summed up as "It's not Catholic doctrine; the Popes tried protect Jews against anti-Semitic mobs. But people are stupid."



Anyway, so, just to clear away a lot of the stupidity, what exactly happened on Good Friday?



Believe it or not, a lot is explained by The Passion … only if you read the scholarship around the events, and if you have a very, very good editor.  Start by cutting out the boring parts with Judas and the hermaphrodite devil, and you have a start ...



In the film, if you blink, you miss dialogue that explains a lot (darned foreign-language films). If you saw The Passion, you might have noticed that, after Jesus was brought in the temple, the temple guards were shoving out a whole bunch of people. These people were shouting “Why are you meeting in the dead of night? Why isn't the full council here!”



The word used, if you listen closely, is “cabal,” implying a small clique was involved.



Something the film didn't mention, and would make the first half-hour make more sense, is what happened earlier that week.  Even if you've never been ten feet near a bible, you might vaguely recall that there is a story about Jesus going into the temple of Jerusalem, kicking over some tables, and driving out merchants with a whip, because they're trying to make money off of the religious pilgrims passing through Jerusalem for Passover.



One of those people Jesus drove out was the son of the elders who turn Jesus over to the Roman authorities. Guess what, it's personal. Hence Mel Gibson's council of elders being of about six guys.



Another factor, also touched on in The Passion, but from the political side, was best looked at in, of all things, Jesus Christ, Superstar. The Romans had come eleven times into Israel in a period of ten years, in order to quell riots. And now, all of a sudden, they have this moron, a carpenter with his own little cult of followers, coming into the holy city to the sound of trumpets, his way lined by hordes of people...



From a government point of view, "This cannot end well. This is bad politics, and cannot be good for business."



Pontius Pilot, Roman Governor of the State of Israel, was also in the movie The Passion. Mel Gibson says he tried to design him as this gray little man, this average, ordinary schlub.  It sounds like he tried to design Pilate on Eichmann, who was also a gray little man ... Given how screwed up Mel was, is, and may always be, I wouldn't be 100% sure that it was his idea.  He was responsible for keeping the peace.  And eleven invasions in ten years is a fairly cruddy track record.



Anyway, only the Roman authority in Israel could authorize an execution.  Bringing Jesus to Pilot, and viewing it in context, the argument for putting down Jesus could be read as “this annoying carpenter is trying to stir up rebellion against Rome, put down the little prick so we can get on with business.”



From the side of Pilot, it has to look odd – this Jesus twit is Jewish, the Rabbis handing him over are Jewish, and it looks like Pilate's being dragged into the middle of a civil war within a religion.  In standard bureaucratic fashion, Pilot tries passing the buck, twice, once by kicking it up the chain of command, and again by offering up Barabbas, another troublemaker, as part of his annual clemency.



However, something that wasn't covered in The Passion, and maybe not in your bible, unless you have some kick ass footnotes: Barabbas was a “murderer” because he was a rebel against the Roman Empire. It became a matter of “So, you're threatening me with a riot? Fine, how about I make you choose between a certified political nuisance, or this moron you want me to put down?”



Barabbas was only a threat to Rome.  He wasn't a rebel against the elders, and he didn't attack one of their sons. 



Barabbas wins, fatality.



So, any time I hear someone, at some time, mention “the Jews killed Jesus,” I want to tell them “Jews didn't kill Jesus, politics did!”

Who killed Jesus?

Everybody.



Theologically (you know theology had to come in somewhere), Jesus died for the sins of all people.



Think about it from a religious point of view. Humans screw up, offend laws of man, nature, and God—which have been the same thing for most of human experience. The magnitude of the offense is dictated by the magnitude of the offended.....



Right now, you're wondering what I'm talking about, aren't you?



Example: If you take a shot at some random idiot on the street, you may get a few years for assault with a deadly weapon. If you shoot at the President of the United States, you will probably disappear into the darkest hole they can find for you.



In this case, the offended is God … yeah, what gift can a human provide that can atone for offending against an all-power, enternal Being?

Previous generations used scapegoats. Literal scapegoats. They would write down sins, strap it to the goat's neck, and send it out into the desert, carrying the sins with it.  However, the goat doesn't really measure up.  It is a finite sacrifice trying to pay down an Infinite debt.  Sort of like trying to pay just the interest on a loan without ever paying the primary.  So, the answer is ....



So, you sacrifice something on par with God … but there's only one thing on par with God, and that's ... God.



Enter Jesus, "Son of God."  No, he's not direct offspring, and we're not going into Zeus here. And I had considered doing a post on the trinity, but I ran out of Lent....  For simplicity's sake, imagine the Trinity, defined as "Son, Father, Holy Spirit," and then think of steam, liquid, and ice -- they're all water, aren't they?  Well, Father, Son and Spirit are all God.  Long story.  See the Trinity and Augustine if you're really interested.



That is why, in the Catholic creed, you get the line that Jesus “died for us men and for our salvation.” Not Christians, not Catholics, men, period … and before someone gets pissed-off, it's men as in mankind, and not the pro-wrestler.



And as far as the historical elements of Jesus, the whole thing is well documented.  There is actually more, and better historical documentation for the existence of Jesus of Nazareth, historical figure, than for the warrior Hannibal ...  of Carthage, not "The Cannibal".  (Hannibal is best known for trying to march on the Roman Empire with war elephants.)  All evidence of Hannibal's existence comes from sources a hundred years after the fact.  Jesus has the historians Josephus and Tacitus -- one is a Jewish Roman citizen, the other is a Roman soldier, so you don't get more neutral as far as outside observers go.  And both historians swrote their histories within a generation of Jesus' crucifixion  They noted that Jesus existed, and that there was a potential for an uprising, and that Jesus was put down.



Sad thing is, that's still more primary document evidence than Hannibal has.



Now, as I mentioned above, The Passion came out, so did claims of anti-Semitism.  The anti-Semitism in Christian groups comes from some very strange places, mostly through stupidity.  As Professor Bieber himself has noted to me, Popes tried to protect Jews from Catholics everytime the Catholic populace did something stupid.  Every hundred years or so, it looks like a Pope issues a new Papal message on Jews within Christian theology. 



The message can usually be summed up as

"Salvation comes from the Jews, for we are merely an extension of the covenant that God made with Abraham.  God made a covenant with the Jews, and God does not reneg on His deals.  In short: leave the Jews alone, you frigging morons!"

Yes, I always thought of any Pope who issued that particular statement did so while leaping up and down, screaming, and pulling his hair out.

Anyway, I'm going to conclude with three quotes.



Maimonides: “Jesus of Nazareth interpreted the Torah and its precepts in such a fashion as to lead to their total annulment. The sages, of blessed memory, having become aware of his plans before his reputation spread among our people, meted out fitting punishment to him.”  This actually makes me wonder what inter-office memos he recieved on the matter ....



"Spiritually, we are all Semites." Pius XI



Vox Day: “My philosophy is that if a guy comes back from the dead, no harm no foul applies.”

The Guest Blog Index -- "Catholic fiction"

This is going to look like a strange post.  But I like things to be organized.  I try not to buy history books unless I go to the index and see if they have certain topics.



For example, there is a recent biography of a Protestant minister involved in the Valkyrie plot to assassinate Hitler .... you may have seen the movie ... I went and looked in the index for Pope Pius XII.  And I found him!  I flipped to the page....



And the minister "met with an aide to Pope Pius XII for a meeting."  That's it?  That's all you had to say?  You don't know anything else?  Thanks, I'm not buying you, you stupid book....



Yes, I think of books in terms of anthropomorphized entities.  If you didn't know I was weird before, You do now.



But, our guest blogs have been some of our most popular thus far.  The only series to outdo them have been the Snarky Theology series, and the blogs beating up on the Phelps Family.



So, my mild OCD has kicked in, and I'm going to do a little sorting.

Our first official guest blog was from Ann Margaret Lewis, of Murder in the Vatican, the Church Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes.  THe premise isn't hard to deduce -- these are "missing" cases of Sherlock Holmes, cases that Arthur Conan Doyle aluded to, but never fleshed out.



Madam Lewis discussed what ie was like using historical figures as characters in a novel.  If you weren't here for it, I'd recommend it.



She was also gracious enough to let me interview her on the novel.  I got to ask her about how she wrote through the book in two different voices, that of Pope Leo XIII and Dr. John Watson.  We also touched on a few other topics along the way ... it was a fun interview.



And, last, and possibly least, I reviewed her book, breaking it down by story.  And by writing elements.  And a few other things here and there.



The three articles were a lot of fun to go through.  It was an absolute joy, and a pleasure to have Madam Lewis on the site.



Why did I host a Sherlock Holmes pastische on my blog?



A Pius Man is about a mystery surrounding the Vatican.  This had two murder mysteries IN the Vatican....  That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Next came the virtual book tour for Infinite Space Infinite God II, an anthology of Catholic science fiction.



Yes, Catholics have science fiction.



First, we had the editor, Karina Fabian, discussing religion in science fiction. 



Then I pumped her for information on the book.  We wandered into Doctor Who territory, Star Trek, science fiction in general, and how religious folk always seem to be the bad guys, hmm....



And I wrap up the week of ISIG2 with my own review of the book.  Considering that I hate anthologies to start with, this came out relatively unscathed. 



And how can I justify science fiction on the blog?  One of the other popular posts on the blog is about my time at DragonCon in 2010.  In this case, demand creates supply.



There is one last thing that I should point out:  I was lucky enough to host both of these fine authors through my tenuous connection to the Catholic Writers Guild.  I'm not actually a member, since I'm too cheap to pay dues ... and I haven't actually published anything.  So, I have no bias towards them one way or another.  I think my review of ISIG2 showed that best -- it had some good stories, some stories I skipped, and some absolutely great tales.



In any event, I would like to extend my thanks to both of these fine authors once more, for allowing me to host them here at A Pius Man.



Have a good day.

Review: Infinite Space, Infinite God II

[A Review of Infinite Space, Infinite God II, a science fiction anthology of Catholic-related tales. Edited by Robert and Karina Fabian ]



One of the themes of this blog is that I try not to get too religious. Most of my consistent readers are not Catholic, or even Christian, so it just won't fly. And, as I've said before, the most I really want to do with this blog is possibly explain the utter insanity that is my religion …. which, as far as some religions go, might be the most reasonable (And if you don't believe me, look up the Aztecs, and the Roman cult of Mithras).



Infinite Space, Infinite God II, however, fits in perfectly well with the rubric. It's not preachy. And there is not even a whiff, a hint, a suggestion, of pro-Catholic propaganda. In fact, the entire premise of this book is that systems fail, fall apart, and don't solve everything, leaving it up to individuals. Sometimes, an individual combined with faith, and sometimes not.



Sometimes, the individual isn't even human.





Welcome to the world of Catholic science fiction.  And, in case you were wondering, yes, there are Catholic science fiction nerds, as evidenced by my DragonCon posts on this blog.



This is not, mercifully, one of those books where you have to be Catholic to understand everything. In fact, aside from a few in-jokes, this is not a book that requires you know Catholic theology—one of the authors is a Presbyterian Minister. Far as I can tell, if you don't mind having Catholics as the good guys, this book is quite enjoyable. This doesn't even require a belief in God.... but it doesn't hurt, either



The sense of humor in some is almost sly. You don't need to be Catholic to understand the actual jokes, though there are some bits where there are Catholic in-jokes.



Karina Fabian's tale of interstellar rescue nuns includes their base convent as being the Convent of Joseph du Cupertino—the patron saint of pilots. Most relevant jokes are spelled out: one ship is called the Mark 16, even though there were only seven models—only to discover that it's actually Mark 16:18...



Let's just say that I've never seen “Snakes on a Star ship.”



There was also a question from an alien to a nun that started

“What do the wings on the hat signify? Something to do with aviation?"

"This is a full habit."

"I didn't ask how often you wore it."

It's cute.



However, one of the more interesting parts of this collection is that it's a science fiction story that uses—gasp—science. We get to keep inertia, Kepler's laws, and no, you are not going to rewrite history as a time traveler. Thank you.



(If you are not an active science fiction fan, let's just say that finding science in science fiction can, occasionally, be hit-or-miss. There are Baen novels, some of which use so many scientific elements that they have physicists co-writing books, and then there's Star Wars and Star Trek media … don't even ask).



Now, to be fair, this comes with the usual mixed bag in any anthology. There are one or two stories that I read and didn't think came up to the standard set by the editors' own tales. I don't know if they were feeling charitable, or if they just really liked “The moral of the story.” The biggest, and I mean the biggest, problem with this anthology is actually … in the introductions. Some of the story intros push a little too hard in trying to explain the moral of the story, and some even give away the ending. But then, if that's the biggest problem with this book, it's not that big at all, when compared to the fun of the rest of it.



If the editors are reading, a simple word of warning for the next volume: stop trying so hard. The story will sell itself. And if you don't think it does, move the introduction of each story to the end of each tale. That's it. “Problem” solved.



And, in this entire collection, I can only suggest skipping two stories. That's it, two. Well, one and a half, really.



The opening tale, The Ghosts of Kourion, is so full of exposition, and takes place so much inside of the protagonist's head, that I can't honestly recommend it. I got bored, and moved on.  And, to be honest, I'm not a big fan of anthologies, considering how variable the quality can be.  I was very tempted to give up on the entire book, if Ghosts of Kourion was going to be an example.  It might be me, but I couldn't really get into it...



And then I read the Karina Fabian tale Antivenin … referred to above as “Snakes on a Star Ship.” Rescue nuns and poisonous snakes. In zero-gravity.  It was fun.  It was a nice, solid adventure.  Though I did expect there to be a line that read "I am sick and tired of these .... snakes on this .... star ship."



It made up for "Ghosts of Kourion," in spades.



As for the rest of the stories, well …



An Exercise in Logic: A nun brought in to argue for saving a few thousand people, in a logic game of chicken.  The alien race's argument? “Yes, we could save this planet … how do you know that the aftereffects won't endanger more people?”   And I can't quibble about a nun who has to fight the urge to slip into the vocabulary of a sailor.  It was entertaining and amusing.  And the ending was cute.



As I mentioned before, I'm a bit of a philosophy nerd, so this one appealed to me. The philosopher Kant once argued that since you can't see all of the ripple effects of your decisions, saying that the ends justify the means is an invalid premise. This story deals with an alien race that argues, The name of Kant is never mentioned, but I liked this one if only for the premise alone.



However, the funniest part of this story may be in the brief bio on author Barton Paul Levenson, who is, in fact, Presbyterian, not Catholic.



However, the best line of the story: "You can't pray to your god in here! This is the Ecumenical Temple! Stop it at once!"



And there will be no fighting in the war room ....



Cathedral (Author: Tamara Wilhite) A short summary of this one could be “Blade Runner goes to church.” A biologically engineered soldier has a limited lifespan, and only has a few months left to try to extend her lifespan ... or to make her life mean something.



This was a very well-designed story, with a nice punchline.  The setup was nice, and the takedown was well executed.  It was touching.  I generally despise "touching," but this one worked for me quite well.



Otherworld (author, Karina Fabian, one of the editors): Remember when I mentioned that there was one and a half stories I would not recommend? This is the half.



The premise here is that there's a Jesuit doing missionary work in virtual reality (VR) … like a net chat room, complete with trolls (not literal … okay, some of them are literal). Imagine that a VR World of Warcraft, or perhaps Second Life, can be so addicting, it can cause the user to fall in and never come out.



I like this premise. Honest. I like the idea of VR missionaries. And how can you not enjoy a story that has a line like “I've just left a discussion on Catholic Social Justice with a white rabbit, a raven and a hamster. I feel very close to St. Francis at the moment”?



However, the main problem isn't the author, or the story, but the narrator. Our protagonist, a Jesuit priest, is a very, very serious fellow. I understood the character's problems because I'm Catholic, and while I even agreed with what our first-person narrator preached, the way it was delivered was in a rote fashion, without thought or explanation to the audience. Why do I blame the narrator, and not the author? Because Karina Fabian is also the author of Antivenin, noted above, which was a fairly excellent story.



And, yes, I'm a mildly schizophrenic author who sees no problem blaming a character as a completely separate entity from the person who writes him.  We've covered this before.


The Battle of the Narthex (Alex Lobdell): I loved this one, it was hilarious. It had intergalactic politics, alien princes going to mass, an old bodyguard who wants to get away from cutthroat palace politics, military tactics, an assassination squad, and motion sensor flush toilets as a threat to invisibility camouflage units. And we get to see a “Come holy spirit” banner on fire.

Imagine the Catholic church from the point of view an alien, and you get something that looks like my “Catholic Cannibals”post from a while ago. There is no theology in this one at all, and the protagonist of this one is an old alien soldier who's an atheist … but there is a nice little touch at the end...

Let's just say that Father Brown would be proud.



Tenniel (Colleen Drippé): In the future, when humanity meets alien worlds, there will be alien converts. In this story, an alien Catholic Bishop comes face to face with one of the local alien “pagans,” who is intent on wiping out the “alien faith,” and any who worship it. The barbarians here really are at the gates, and they are pissed.



I suggest you skip the introduction on this story altogether, since it gives away the ending, and pushes far too hard on the moral of the story. The story speaks for itself. 



I'm thinking ... Constantine.



And not Keanu Reeves.



Tin Servants (J Sherer). In 2147, a Catholic priest has gone undercover as an android soldier being shipped into Africa, and what happens when, for once, the human has to act like an android, instead of vice versa. 



It's a nice inversion of cliches.  In the grand tradition of science fiction, it deals with a lot of modern problems with a fictional guise. Though in this case, the guise is a thin gauze. Not that I'm complaining. Half the science fiction I read lately seems to have a light crust of science over a Grand Canyon of politics—Tin Servants is downright subtle in comparison. There isn't much in the way of theology here, and that's a good thing. It's nice and low key and elegant, with a solid punchline you won't see coming.



Basilica (John Rundle). I loved this story. Up until this point in the collection, I thought that Antivenin alone would justify the cost of this book.  This was just as good.  Possibly better



This story is very much like a Doctor Who episode. To prevent a super-weapon from falling into the hands of ancient heretics, a priest has to hijack a star ship and fend off a boarding party of killing machines.



Basically, run.



Cloned to Kill (Derwin Mak): A military clone named Lorraine … hiding in St. Joan of Arc church … and she hears voices.  Enough said.  This one was fairly awesome, and very well constructed.



Frankie Phones Home (Karina Fabian). This was a cute story, told mostly in the form of dialogue – imagine if the kid from E.T. went along with his friendly neighborhood alien back to his home planet … and then came back.



Dyads (Ken Pick and Alan Loewen) – Premise: Catholicism doesn't mesh with non-human species, but we can all get along.  However, when a missionary from a backwater sect decides to covert the local "heathens" his way, interstellar diplomacy can get messy. 



The nice part about this one is that the culture shock isn't human to alien, but two religions (one human, one alien) looking at a third and saying "Wow, are you weird or what?"



Dyads takes time to really get going, but it's ultimately worth it. There are some details that are a touch overwritten, and there were some sections where I would have liked dialogue, not exposition. But if you ever wanted to see what would happen with interstellar cultural misunderstandings and missionaries, you have an interesting story here. Ultimately, it's quite touching. As I said above, this is coming from someone who typically holds standard “cute and cuddly” in the highest disdain.



Oh, and fair warning - - there are furries.  Tall, bipedel, fox-like furries.  They're aliens, but still, you have been warned.....



At the end of the day, if you like science fiction, you'll enjoy this book. It's worth the price of admission, and I'd even pay money for it, even though I already have a digital copy.



And if you don't want to take my word for it, I'm sure other people can give you a second opinion.



And, now, you get several samples from Infinite Space, Infinite God II

Excerpt from "Antivenin" by Karina Fabian:

No, Ann was not durak. Now if Rita could just keep from doing anything lethally stupid. She grabbed the line, gave it a tug of her own to make sure it was secure, and pulled herself to the Mark 16:18.



Once inside the other ship, they exited the suits, positioning them for emergency donning. Then Rita set up the rescue balloons: nanomylar bags large enough to hold a man. Once sealed, a small motor generated air and heat for thirty minutes--an hour with an expansion pack. She pulled out the retractable strap on her medical kit and slung it over her shoulder.



Ann, meanwhile, had tried to contact the pilot and passenger both via the intercom and by yelling down the hall. Nothing.



Sr. Thomas spoke over their headsets. "Small asteroids coming. Brace yourself!"



They managed to grab the threshold just as the ship jinxed wildly to the left.



Sr. Thomas called, "At least two more, but you have a couple of minutes. Ann, can you disable those sensors before we jerk that tow line off?"



Rita's stomach clutched at the thought. "You go to engineering. I'll search for wounded."



Ann hurried down the corridor, while Rita followed more slowly, opening each door to scan the room. The ship was larger than she'd expected: six doors on each side led to rooms that had been converted to storage. Most were packed wall to wall, floor to ceiling, with an empty strip just wide enough for a person to pull something off a shelf and carry it out. She wondered what kind of cargo the ship carried.



It was eerily quiet, with nothing but the background hum of the engine, the hissing of doors and the sound of her own footsteps. What had happened to the crew?



"Rita! I found someone in the center compartment. He's unconscious. Respiration shallow. He's drooling a lot. I've never seen anything like it."



"Ann, pull up your collar, now." She pulled at the collar of her own skinsuit. The tightly compacted fibers stretched until the fabric covered her mouth and nose. She pressed along her nose and cheeks with thumb and forefinger, creating a seal. The fabric, actually a sophisticated biofilter, would enable her to breathe while blocking most airborne hazards. "Make him comfortable. I'm on my way. If there's nothing you can do, go on to engineering."



"I thought I heard something in the port corridor. I'm going to check that first."



"But if the tow line breaks--"



"Basilica has more. Tommie will catch us again."



It only took Rita a minute to get down the long hall, through the pie-shaped galley room and into the central hub. Ann had set the man upright against the wall and put a slap-patch on his cheek: Oxyboost and a mild stimulant. A second patch read his vital signs.



Rita knelt beside him and puzzled over his stats. They looked more like poisoning than a virus. His face was slack, eyelids drooping. She lifted one. The dilated pupils responded sluggishly to the bright light of the room.



Sr. Thomas called over the headset: "Brace!"



Rita braced one hand on each side of the victim. Again the ship jerked. Rita heard the metallic sound of dishes sliding and clattering to the floor. The man bumped against her arms, but did not fall.



Sr. Thomas said, "One more coming. You've got about two minutes-thirty, maybe three."



"Ann?"



"I'm fine. I definitely heard something this time. Last room on the left, port corridor. Door's jammed."



The man was stirring feebly now, but not enough to help. Rita muscled him around until she could get her arms under his and drag him back to the rescue bag. Despite the months of heavy exercise, she was panting from exertion as she all but dumped him into the nanomylar bag. The man forced a moan. His hand twitched and bumped her.



"Be still. We'll get you to our ship where we can treat you."



He tapped the floor: three slow, two fast. Universal Space Code for "Attention."



"You want to tell me something? Go ahead. I'm listening." They'd drilled the universal tap code daily in her training, and at the convent Mother Superior declared "tap code hours" to keep everyone in practice. It had annoyed her no end, but she was glad of it now.



But he tapped, "No. Look. Attention."



"All right. I'm watching your hand." Slowly, as if it took great will, he spelled:



A...

N...

T...

I..



"Anti?"



Ann called, "Got it! Opening the door now."



V...

E...

N...

O...

M



"Antivenom? What?" Was he hallucinating? She pulled up his sleeves, then his pantlegs.



"Rita?" Ann's voice was a thin ghost of a wail. "Serpents..."



Two small puncture marks, like pinpricks around a slightly swelled area.



"Annie. Just walk out quickly but calmly--"



"Brace!" Sr. Thomas called.



The ship swung, knocking Rita off balance. Through the headset and the ship, she heard Ann scream.

Excerpt from "An Exercise in Logic " by Barton Levenson:

In her room, Julian pored over data she had downloaded from the honendo library. She aligned pictures of a honendo, a desli, a meschottu, and a human. The first three had tails, the human didn't. Tails? Could it be that simple?

Don't be stupid. Look at the other similarities. The three alien species were all reptiles, and all about the same size -- the human picture on the same scale was shorter than the others. All three alien species were egg-layers, and that was probably a big part of the picture. If reproductive physiology was as important to them as it was to humans, that might be the key. The religious primers she had looked through often used a picture of an egg to illustrate existence. Their writers talked about the inside of the shell of the sky when talking about astronomy. And even though their written symbol for "zero" was a sort of check mark rather than a circle, the word for zero (sfuh) also meant "egg."

Doesn't matter. Whatever the difference is, they don't believe humans can produce a luendo. It's a dead end. Think of something else.

* * *

Seventeen days to go.

"How many worlds do the honendo still occupy?" Julian asked the High Council.

Greddil replied, "If you mean how many have a honendo majority, I'd say about eight, isn't that right, Rann?"

"Eight is correct," said Rann.

"But there are over a hundred worlds and habitats with at least a few honendo on them," added Greddil. "Used to be millions, but we've declined since then."

"Do your people ever indulge in interstellar travel?" asked Julian.

"It has been known to happen."

"Then I submit to you that there could be honendo on New Canaan now, even as we speak, and one of them may have laid an egg. The egg may contain a fetal luendo."

"It doesn't seem very likely," said Greddil. "But I'll put a request through TravelNet. It may take a few days to get an answer."

Uh oh. There went her argument, except in the unlikely case that she was right. "Does TravelNet keep tabs on every individual honendo?"

"Of course," said Greddil.

* * *

Thirteen days to go.

"I have researched legal precedents," said Julian. "Please take note of the case In the Matter of Charril, 11,319,255. The court held that Charril had, and I quote, 'The legal, moral and religious duty to render aid,' and that she had failed egregiously in not warning the family of the defect in the robot's programming."

"You raise an interesting point," said Greddil. "We do respect court decisions here. Will you hold on a moment while I review the case?"

"Certainly."

Greddil manipulated something on the bench. It was too high for Julian to see if he had a Pad or used something built in to the surface in front of him.

After a while, Greddil said, "The court referred to the earlier precedent of Honendo Sphere of Enlightenment v. Drann 5,123,582, which said that the legal, moral and religious duty to render aid was implied by the duties to one's family, and that all living honendo were ultimately to be regarded as one family in such matters."

"Surely that distinction is not pertinent," said Julian. "In a larger sense, are not all sentient beings creations of the gods, or as my beliefs have it, of God? And are they not all, therefore, to be regarded as one family in the sense required? A great expounder of my religion, anticipating the coming days of space travel, said, 'Those who are, or can become his sons, are my brothers even if they have tusks or feelers'."

"Well, that's very nice, but note that the Honendo really are biologically related to one another, having all come from the same evolutionary ecology. We and humans did not come from the same ecology and are not really related."

"You're not related to desli or meschottu either, but they can produce luendos, can't they?"

"Yes, but humans cannot."

"Why not?"

"It should be obvious," said Greddil. "You're not our type."

"But don't you see Lewis's point? It's not the physical things that matter. What makes someone a person is the ability to reason and make moral decisions, not how they're shaped or what color they are or what planet they come from!"

"That may be," said Greddil. "But we have no legal precedent for saying so."

* * *

Eight days to go.

Julian said, "Imagine a polity coming together from a state of nature in which individuals of many species are forming a government. They have to make their social system function fairly. They deliberately adopt a veil of blindness -- they do not know, beforehand, which roles they will occupy in the new society. Is it not obvious that they would not institute rules making one species the masters and another slaves? Because with the veil of blindness, they might wind up as the slaves!"

"I see your point without taking its significance," said Greddil.

"People should be treated with a presumption of equality whatever planet they come from. I submit that it is immoral to treat humans differently from honendo based solely on the fact that they are of different species."

"Based on the social contract you envision?" asked Greddil.

"Yes."

"But, you know, societies don't really form that way," he said gently. He began to talk about anthropology.

* * *

Five days to go. "At T minus two days we're going in," said Captain Todd. "It's against my orders and I'll undoubtedly be court-martialed for it. But I don't give a damn if the library gets blown, and I certainly don't care about my career path. I'm not going to stand by and let thousands of innocent people be wiped out. T minus two days, and I'll grab those honendo bastards by the scruff of the neck and make them give us the recall code."

"If the library wipes its memory it may wipe the recall code as well," said Julian.

"Unless one of them already knows it."

"Why would they?"

"To be prepared in case they change their minds!" said the captain. "If I were in their situation, I would want to know the code."

"But you can't be sure."

"No, I can't be sure. But it's a better chance than doing nothing and allowing all those people to die!"

"Perhaps you're right," said Julian. A thought occurred to her. "How, exactly, would you make the priest give up the code?"

"Have you ever heard of waterboarding?"

* * *

Three days to go.

"Tomorrow, if you have not recalled the asteroid, Captain Todd is planning to blast in here, capture you, and get the code out of you," said Julian.

Greddil looked at each of his companions. "Are you referring to the use of military force?"

"Yes."

"The Temple Guard will fight them."

"The Temple Guard will lose." Julian looked down. "Captain Todd didn't want me to say anything, and I haven't told him that I'm telling you this. But I'm telling you because I don't want it to happen! They're planning to torture you on the chance that one of you might know the recall code."

"None of us know it," said Greddil. "It's in the library. And the library will wipe if anyone forces their way in here."

"You will never convince Captain Todd that none of you know the code. Your library will be destroyed and so will each of you if you don't call off the asteroid."

"An argument by the use of force is no argument at all," said Greddil. "It is a logical fallacy. It cannot determine truth."

"I know that! I don't want to see it happen! It wasn't my idea to threaten you! But it's not up to me. Please, I beg you -- save human lives, and honendo lives. Recall the asteroid."

"I'm sorry, not under the threat of force." Greddil smiled. "I was coming to like you, Sister Julian. You plural, I mean; humans. This destroys any respect I had for you. Of course we will not change our minds if threatened. If anything, it will only make us more adamant."

* * *

T minus 51 hours.

Greddil yawned. The priests on either side of him also looked sleepy, with drooping eyelids. "You wish to see us at this ungodly hour?"

"In three hours Captain Todd is going to launch his assault," said Julian. "They didn't want to let me out of the ship; I had to sneak out with the help of a crewman."

"What do you want of us?"

"To recall the asteroid."

"I'm sorry, I see no reason to do so."

Julian said, "Then I will pray until you do." And with that she knelt on the floor and brought her hands together in front of her lips. "Father in Heaven, please move the hard heart of this man to protect your children who are in danger from the unholy wrath of this dead empire. Break their hearts of stone and give them hearts of flesh. Let them know the despair of your children as doom approaches, and let a little love bloom in their hearts. Make them--"

The honendo priests had watched in growing astonishment as Julian prayed. "Here! Here!" said Ahherril, the sociologist and philosopher. "You can't pray to your god in here! This is the Ecumenical Temple! Stop it at once!"

Excerpt from "Cloned to Kill" by Derwin Mak

Lorraine, a clone who has escaped from a cloning lab and sought sanctuary in a church, has been watching a baptism.

Lorraine had been standing by the statue and watching the baptism. A woman wearing a blue jacket and skirt stood with her. Father Markham approached them.

“That was a beautiful ceremony,” the woman said.

Markham said, “Thank you, Sister Clara.” He turned to Lorraine. “What did you think about it?”

“Is it part of the human experience?” Lorraine asked.

“For some humans, it is,” Markham said.

Sister Clara said, “I’m going to call the Big Chicken Coop. What do you want?”

“The usual,” Father Markham said.

“The roast quarter chicken dinner,” said Lorraine.

“Gravy with your French fries again?” Clara asked.

“Gravy,” said Father Markham.

“I will have baked potato with sour cream instead of the French fries,” Lorraine said.

“Money,” Clara demanded.

“Oh, yes,” Markham said as he gave his money card to Clara. “It’s still got fifty dollars.”

“That should be enough,” the nun said as she took the card. “I’ll call the Big Chicken Coop and go pick up the order. I’ll be back soon.”

She turned to Lorraine. “Place the plates and knives and forks on the table, like I showed you, will you?” Lorraine nodded. Clara left for her car, leaving Lorraine alone with Father Markham.

“Is it true that only humans can be baptized?” Lorraine asked. “Sister Clara told me that you do not baptize animals or equipment.”

Father Markham had noticed that when Lorraine was fighting, she spoke in an angry, emotional tone. But when she was calm, she spoke in an emotionless monotone. She never seemed happy, and she never smiled. This had to be due to a life without family, friends, and schoolmates, a life of only neuro-programming and combat training, Markham thought. “That’s true, only human beings can be baptized,” Markham replied.

“Was the baby human before he was baptized?”

“Of course, he was.”

“Then why does he need to be baptized if he was already human?” Lorraine asked.

“While it’s true that only humans can be baptized, baptism does not make someone human,” Markham explained. “Baptism is for people who are already human. It’s a ceremony of purification and entry into the Christian community.”

“Purification? Was that baby impure?”

“In a limited sense. He was born with original sin. The baptism is a remission of original sin.”

“Original sin. I read about it in L'Osservatore Romano in your library. Sister Clara talked about it with me. It is a general condition of sinfulness into which all humans are born. However, I am not sure how it exists and works,” Lorraine said. “Unlike you, I was not born from humans. I was cloned from a donor’s cell. Do I have original sin?”

“I think you do, and for once, I think that’s wonderful,” Markham said.

“Wonderful? How can being sinful be wonderful?”

“Because it means you’re human.”

“Only inside this church. I am non-human outside it,” Lorraine said. She paused for a moment and asked, “Father, if I am truly human, will you baptize me?”

She was unsmiling and unemotional as usual when she asked about baptism. She did not fully appreciate people’s feelings for life’s milestones. Not yet.

“I’ll baptize you if you are willing to learn and join the Christian community. The choice is yours.”

“Perhaps I can do that. I will read more articles in L'Osservatore Romano.”

“You might have to read more than L'Osservatore Romano,” Markham said. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you recite the names of the sacred monkeys in the Vatican.”

“If the monkeys in the Vatican are sacred, have they been baptized?” asked Lorraine.

Markham wondered if Lorraine had developed a sense of humor.

***

The rectory was in a house separated from the church but still within the church grounds. In the rectory, Father Markham, Sister Clara, and Lorraine again dined on take-out food from the Big Chicken Coop.

“What do you say when I pass the bread to you?” Markham asked.

Lorraine took the basket of bread. “Thank you?”

“That’s right. You’re learning.”

Lorraine bit into the bun.

Father Markham felt happy about Lorraine’s progress. Her neuro-programming and combat training had included no social graces, but she was learning them faster than he had expected.

“So how was your day?” Clara asked.

“Why do you need to know?” Lorraine said in her flat, emotionless tone.

“It’s just something people do when they eat together. They make ‘small talk,’ harmless conservation about things that happened,” explained Clara.

“Oh, okay,” Lorraine said. “I heard the voice in my head again.”

“Do you recognize the voice? Do you know whose it is yet?”

“No, I do not. All I know is that it is a man’s voice.”

Father Markham took a sip of wine. “Does it remind you of a voice you heard during neuro-programming?”

“I do not remember.”

“Could it be an instructor at the mercenary training camp?”

“No, it is not one of them. They are within my recent memory. I would remember them.”

After the dinner, Father Markham brought a decanter of port to the table. Drinking port after dinner was a tradition of Canadian military officers’ messes.

“May I have some port too?” Lorraine asked.

Father Markham shook his head. “You’re too young. Do you want coffee or tea?”

Lorraine shook her head and stood up. “No, I will go back into the church and look at the statue.”

“Don’t leave the church grounds,” Father Markham said. “The Clymene Biogenesis people might try to capture you.”

“I can protect myself if they try to capture me,” Lorraine said.

“I know you can,” said Markham. “It’s your enemies I’m worried about.”

“All right,” said Lorraine as she left the room.

As Sister Clara poured some port into her glass, she said, “She seems to like that statue of St. Joan of Arc. I think she identifies with St. Joan after reading about her in The Lives of the Saints.”

“Like St. Joan, she hears voices in her head,” Father Markham observed.

“At least she doesn’t think it’s God’s voice. We get enough people hearing Him,” said Clara.

“I suspect the voice is someone she remembers from her neuro-programming. I’ve heard of other neuro-programmed and force-grown clones experiencing voices or visions. Some of them become mentally ill due to the way they grow up. After Lorraine was created, her creators force-grew her to a sixteen-year-old size in five months, and she learned eight years of primary schooling in six months of neuro-programming.

He sipped his port. “What she doesn’t have is all the people and experiences that develop a teenager’s mind: family, friends, schoolmates, or any memories of childhood or adolescence. She has none except the cloning hatchery and the mercenary training camp.

“In addition, clones are brainwashed into slavish devotion to a specific role, usually dangerous or low-paid jobs, like uranium miner, landmine sweeper, garbage picker, or prostitute.”

“But Lorraine’s different. She’s the first of her kind, an elite combat soldier,” Clara said.

“Yes, a soldier who can get killed without any pensions or payments to a surviving family,” Father Markham said. “She’s the perfect expendable human. Sorry, non-human.”

He shook his head. “Have we come to this: creating people just so they can kill? Or just so they can die?”

“You were a military chaplain,” Clara said. “Is creating a clone any worse than recruiting and conscripting people into the military, where they may also be forced to kill or die?”

“No, that’s different,” Markham said. “Society considers natural-born people to be human, and they keep all the rights of a human being and citizenship when they join the military. They have the free will that God gave them. Even a conscript can disobey orders that are illegal. I told my soldiers that it was their duty to refuse any orders that violate the laws of armed conflict.”

He put down his glass. “We treat clones differently. They have no human rights, and they don’t have any rights of citizenship. And we neuro-program, brainwash, and train them so they won’t have any free will, just an urge to obey us.”

“Not Lorraine,” Clara said. “She escaped from the mercenary training camp because she wanted a different life.”

“She resisted her programming and training,” said Markham. “Something must have gone wrong in the factory.”

“Perhaps,” said Clara. “She got some rather intense training, though. I’m amazed that she hasn’t attacked us.”

Father Markham grinned. “She came here on Victoria Day, when I was wearing my medals for the parade. I must have imprinted on her mind as a military officer, and therefore, a commander.

“But she hears voices that aren’t there, so I don’t know how long I can control her.”

Interview with ISIG2 editor / author Karina Fabian

Yesterday, we had guest blogger Karina Fabian, editor of Infinite Space, Infinite God II (ISIG2) give us her views on faith, science, and writing science fiction.



If you didn't read yesterday's post, feel free to go back and read it, we'll wait for you....



All caught up now?  Good.



Now, as a bonus blog, we get another shot at Madam Fabian.  Now, it's time to sit her down and ask her some questions about the book itself. 



You all remember that ISIG2 is an anthology of Catholic science-fiction short stories.  What exactly does that entail?  Are we going to have more acts of blantantly violanting the laws of physics?  Will we have alien converts?  A patron saint of starships?  Worse yet, a Saint Captain Kirk?



Read on to find out.



1. So, you're now on ISIG 2 -- Since this blog didn't even exist for the first ISIG, how about you tell the readers why you got started on these collections?



Karina: We sort of happened into it. Rob and I had decided to write stories together on our date nights, and when we had a few, I sought a publisher. That led a publisher to ask us to edit and anthology of Christian sci-fi, then one to suggest Catholic SF. Leaps of Faith was our first anthology and covers a broad range of Christian faiths. Infinite Space, Infinite God I and II are exclusively Catholic in their stories, although many of the authors are not Catholic--just great writers.



2. Why do science fiction in particular?  Nowadays, it seems that anytime a religious person makes an appearance in any genre, the audience can usually guess "Yup, s/he's the villain."



Karina: Exactly! We wanted science fiction that recognized faith, established religious faith, as a natural part of the human condition, and a positive force for our future. We also wanted a book that didn't demonize science in comparison to faith. The two work together just fine for the most part in real life--why let the fringe elements dictate what we have in fiction?



3. In the description of the book, it is described as "Infinite Space, Infinite God II offers solid sci-fi and life-affirming faith."  How much of this is "hard" science fiction (SF that relies on actual scientific principles), and how much is it the treknomancy of Star Trek, or the magic wand that is Dr. Who's sonic screwdriver?



Karina: It's a combination. We have some hard SF, some space opera, some "furry" sci-fi (anthropomorphic animals), some classic SF, and some cyberpunk. So readers are going to get a wonderful variety. Of course, because Star Trek and Dr. Who are copyrighted, you won't see the Enterprise or sonic screwdrivers, much as we love them!



4. What science fiction do you both generally read?  And how did it impact the choices for the collection of ISIG 2?



Karina: Rob (co-editor Robert Fabian) is the real reader in the family, and we reads everything from military SF to SF-fantasy. I tend more toward fantasy, personally, although I used to love Asimov. However, we tried to think of the readers when we chose stories. We had three hard-and-fast rules: There must be convincing science (convincing to the world, not necessarily scientifically possible now); there must be an accurate depiction of the Catholic faith as it stands now (i.e., the Magesterium); the interaction of faith and science must be positive, as must the individual depictions of both faith and science. Really, those three rules enabled us to weed a lot out. Next, we looked for great writing. We wanted to get whisked away. Finally, we tried to get a variety of sub-genres: time travel, near-future, space opera, etc. I wrote "Otherworld" specifically because no one gave us a virtual reality story that really worked.



5. You're both Catholic.  How much of an impact does it have on the series?  Can we expect to see Rabbis in space? And if so, can alien food be kosher?



Karina: We did Infinite Space, Infinite God as Catholic SF because a Catholic publisher asked us to. When they decided science fiction was too risky for them, we were blessed to find Twilight Times to publish the book. ISIG I has won both popular and critical awards, so Twilight Times asked us to do another.



There has been some Jewish science fiction, but I don't know the faith enough to judge it well; ditto, Muslim, Buddhist, etc. And, frankly, we have enough on our plate and not a lot of interest in compiling those anthologies--though we'd love to know they are out there!



6. This blog is about A Pius Man -- essentially a thriller that seeks to take every Catholic cliche, turn it on its head, inside out, throw them in a blender and hit "frappe."  Was there any particular cliche, or set of cliches, that ISIG 2 took joy in subverting?



Karina: Read Alex Lobdell's "Battle of the Narthex." Alex is a genius with humor. The Saturday Mass-and-Spaghetti dinner becomes the battlefield for alien assassins and their targets.



7. So, what does one do with alien life forms?  I know of three major science fiction novels /series (and one tv series) that directly address faith and alien life: CS Lewis's science fiction trilogy, Andrew Greeley's The Final Planet, and the television show Babylon 5.  How about ISIG 2?  Will there be ET on a crucifix?



Karina: We pretty much took the view that God will manifest Himself to each species in a way that they can relate to. "Dyads" is the best example of this. The foxlike aliens who mate for life understand the trilogy as Husband, Wife, and Holy Dance, and the spiritual danger comes when humans try to convert to their faith or they to human faith. It's a fabulously complex story with a very rich universe. Ken Pick and Alan Loewen have a talent for worldbuilding!



8. In addition to being editors, you're both writers.  Robert writes articles on the military and commercial use of space.  Karina writes about zombie exterminators.  How did that affect your editing of the book?



Karina: Rob was the tech guy, and in a few cases, we requested rewrites not only because of the technology but also because the characters didn't use the technology logically. I am more character driven, and edited for story flow and emotional content.



9. What did you enjoy most about ISIG 2?



Karina: Like with Leaps of Faith and Infinite Space, Infinite God I, we loved discovering new writers, reading fabulous stories from established writers--and putting the whole thing together over a candlelight dinner at Olive Garden.



10.  Hmm, the Olive Garden, my condolences ... So, in the future, does the Pope's spaceship look like the Popemobile?  Is there a Saint James T. Kirk?



Karina: In one story, the Pope has had to move the Vatican to Mars. It's very traumatic.



St. Kirk? *headdesk* No. No, no, no. However, there are some new saints who are born and bred in space; including St. Gillian of L5, the founder of the Order of Our Lady of the Rescue. Rob and I wrote stories about these sisters, who do search and rescue operations in space. Those stories are what led us creating these anthologies in the first place.

We here at the A Pius Man blog would like to thank Karina for her time.   Everyone please recall that Infinite Space, Infinite God II can purchased through the publisher at Twilight Press. It is also carried on B&N and Amazon.  Again, the Kindle version of ISIG is on sale for 99 cents through April 13. It and ISIG II are for sale for 2.99 through April 23rd.

For those who have any interest in Karina Fabian's work, she can be found at her site at 

www.fabianspace.com

Guest Blog: Karina Fabian of Infinite Space, Infinite God II

For those of you who may have missed last week, we had a guest blog from the gracious and talented Margaret Ann Lewis, author of Murder in the Vatican, the Church Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes. It was followed shortly thereafter with an interview and a review.



 If you were looking for another Snarky Theology blog, sorry, you're out of luck. Because this week we have a guest blog from author Karina Fabian, editor of Infinite Space, Infinite God II, an anthology of Catholic science fiction. You can find it at B&N, Amazon, etc.



Some may ask why I would host a science fiction author / editor on my blog. Murder in the Vatican was at least a Catholic mystery, and, in a way, A Pius Man is a mystery, but science fiction? Since one of my top five post at the moment is a report from DragonCon, 2010, I'm assuming there's an interest.



Oh, yes, and while I think of it, I have been asked to inform you that the first book, Infinite Space, Infinite God is on sale for .99 cents through April 13. It and the sequel are for sale for 2.99 through April 23rd.



From here on out, Infinite Space, Infinite God II will be shortened to ISIG2.



This concludes all the formalities.  Now, the blog:

Faith in Science Fiction

By Karina Fabian

John asked me to write about religion in science fiction. It’s becoming a big topic lately, from SFGospel’s “Ten Best SF Stories About Religion” to Charlie Jane Ander’s “The Seven Deadly Sins of Religion in Science Fiction”. Why is religion and SF becoming a big deal?



Truth is, religion and science have always been a big deal . In ancient times, religion and science were often one and the same. The ancient Pythagoreans tries to determine the work of the gods in mathematics, for example. The medieval Catholic Church sponsored many great scientists—and still does today. Gradually, the two separated in their functions, so that religion addressed the why of creation and science the how (an oversimplification, I know.) Today, the Catholic Church still sponsors scientific symposiums, with scientists of all faiths and even atheists. Many scientists are very faithful followers of a religion.



Yet with the Age of Enlightenment, religion began to be seen as something separate from “reality,” including science. That attitude held on well into the 20th century, and in the new genre of literature born of that era—science fiction. Too often, humankind was portrayed as having “outgrown” such archaic ideas, or the religious figure was brought in as a foil to the hero, which pitted the religion and science against each other. Over time, the ideas of separation of Church and State morphed into the idea that Church should be separated from everything—even our entertainment. For a long time, the author who stepped into religious grounds, even for the purpose of worldbuilding, was risking their book; and the publisher who took them on risked losing money. Only a few were able to do it successfully, and they were the exception rather than the rule. Most, even then, took a light hand.



Then came the movement of Christian Fiction, but often, they took the same approach but in an opposite direction—pitting the evil scientist against the moral and courageous religious hero. That did find some readers, but in my opinion, only hurt themselves and the idea of that religion and science can support each other.



My husband, Rob, and I are both devout Catholics. We are also major sci-fi geeks. We don’t see a dichotomy between faith and science. Science teaches us how God made the world to run; use of science gives us technology that makes our lives easier. Religion teaches us why we are here and how to treat each other; use of religion guides us in the use of science and technology to make our lives better. This is how we live and frankly, this is what we’d like to see when religion and science combine in fiction. That’s why we created the anthologies Leaps of Faith, and Infinite Space, Infinite God I and II.



What’s exciting is that we are part of a growing literary movement that sees religion as a legitimate part of world building, and not just a tool for evangelizing—either for religion or for the end to religion. There are publishers like Splashdown Books and Marcher Lord Press that are dedicated to religious speculative fiction and there are secular publishers, like Twilight Times that published Infinite Space, Infinite God I and II, that are not intimidated by the mix as long as the writing is strong. And, whether done well or badly, we are starting to see the re-emergence of religion in our entertainment. It’s no longer a separate aspect of human lives that needs to be shut away.



Rob and I consider that a blessing.

About the Author / Editor: Karina Fabian

After being a straight-A student, Karina now cultivates Fs: Family, Faith, Fiction and Fun. From an order of nuns working in space to a down-and-out faerie dragon working off a geas from St. George, her stories surprise with their twists of clichés and incorporation of modern day foibles in an otherworld setting. Her quirky twists and crazy characters have won awards, including the INDIE book award for best fantasy (Magic, Mensa and Mayhem), and a Mensa Owl for best fiction (World Gathering). In May 2010, her writing took a right turn with a devotional, Why God Matters, which she co-wrote with her father. Mrs. Fabian is former President of the Catholic Writer’s Guild and also teaches writing and book marketing seminars online.

Review: Murder in the Vatican, the Church Mysteries of Sherlock Homes.

After a guest blog from author Ann Margaret Lewis, and the interview with her, it's now time for my review of her book. 



I wanted to hold off on this for the end, to make certain that there would be no influence on her one way or another.  The same ground rules will apply next week for Infinite Space, Infinite God II editor Karina Fabian, who will also submit a guest blog, and be subjected to an interview.

Now, on with the review....

When I was thirteen, I started reading through the collected stories of Sherlock Holmes. I made it about halfway through. I had been stopped dead by "The Adventure of the Gloria Scott"—the one and only time Holmes was the narrator.  I wasn't the only one who had a problem with that story. Another author of the day, G.K. Chesterton, said that the Gloria Scott showed why Watson was relevant: because Holmes was an awful storyteller.

Since then, I have been critical of anything about Sherlock Holmes written after the death of Arthur Conan Doyle. Some stories went wildly off track. Others were riddled with so many anachronisms it was painful. Of the vast quantity of Holmes-related material published, my family of readers owns only a fraction.



When Robert Downey Jr. starred in Sherlock Holmes, I crossed my fingers and hoped it didn't suck … instead, I got a checklist of what they did right.

When Doctor Who scribe and show runner Steven Moffat created a show called Sherlock, I also crossed my fingers. It was surprisingly awesome.



Then I heard about Murder in the Vatican. The Church Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes on the newsletter for the Catholic Writers Organization. It had an interesting premise: author Ann Margaret Lewis takes Watson's offhand references of Holmes working on cases for the Pope, or involving religious figures, and turns them into entire stories.



I experienced the same feeling of dread. How off would the narration be? Would someone try converting Holmes? How lost would a detective from Victorian, Anglican England be in Catholic Rome? How many different ways were there to screw this up?



I stopped worrying when I read the first sentence.  And, oh my God, this book is awesome!  I loved this book....



Lewis caught the voice of Dr. John Watson as though she had taken it, trapped in a bottle, and used it to refill her pen into as she wrote. I liked the voice. I liked Watson, the doctor, trying to diagnose an ailing Leo XIII (85 at the time of the events of the first story). I like the brief sketch of the political situation between the Vatican and Italy. I even enjoy Watson's discomfort at the Pope slipping into “The Royal We” when he speaks of himself as The Pope.  Even the artwork was as though it had been lifted from issues of The Strand magazine.



Someone had fun here, and it shows.



Thankfully, there is no overt attempt to convert Holmes, evangelize or proselytize him. There is only enough theology in the entire novel that explains to the casual reader exactly what the heck the Pope is doing. The closest the book comes to exposing Holmes to theology is a page-long sequence that ends with Leo saying, “Perhaps you should spend some of your inactive time pondering that conundrum [of Jesus] instead of indulging in whatever narcotic it is with which you choose to entertain yourself.”  That is the best zinger I've ever seen a character use on Holmes regarding his drug use.  Even the most secular person I know can appreciate a page of theology for one of the better one-liners I've ever seen.



Also, the little things were entertaining for a nerd like me. For example, the casual mention of John Cardinal Newman, referred to as “a recent convert.” The political situation at the time is given just enough of a sketch to explain what's going on, but nothing obtrusive; history nerds like me can be satisfied, but you don't have to have a degree in it to comprehend what's going on.



There are truly parts where the novel seems to merge all the best qualities of Sherlock Holmes with those of G.K. Chesterton's Fr. Brown short stories ...



At this point, I must make a small confession. I write these reviews as I read the book. There is plenty of backtracking, to fill the blanks, and rewrite it as the book goes. I wrote the above line when I finished the first tale. In fact, the interview questions I sent to Ann Margaret Lewis were written before I even received a review copy of the book.  I then read “The Vatican Cameos,” and discover a Deacon, named Brown …



I swear I didn't see that coming.



The first story in this collection is "The Death of Cardinal Tosca."

In this memorable year '95 a curious and incongruous succession of cases had engaged his attention, ranging from his famous investigation of the sudden death of Cardinal Tosca -- an inquiry which was carried out by him at the express desire of His Holiness the Pope  . . . .



—Dr. John H. Watson, “The Adventure of Black Peter”

Imagine Sherlock Holmes on vacation … if you see that vacation turning out like an episode of Murder, She Wrote, with a body hitting the floor at some point, you pretty much have the setup. It has a poison pen letter, with real poison, some Masons, references to two different cases in the space of two paragraphs, and a Papal commando raid with a real pontiff. This story is so delightfully odd and over-the-top, but still preserves as much reality as any other Holmes tale. I enjoyed every moment of it. And I can't argue with any story where the pope gets most of the amusing one-liners.



Heck, even the murderer gets in a good line.  When confronted, our first killer sneers.  “Let me guess. You're going to explain, to the amazement of your friends, how I did the deed?”  Holmes replies, “I've already told them that. It would be old news. They already know you blundered badly.”



I think the story concludes on a nice, solid note.  As Holmes tells Watson, “[Leo XIII] is genuinely pious. He is also imperious, but in a most endearing way.”



Watson merely replies, “Yes, well. I'm used to that.”

 "I was exceedingly preoccupied by that little affair of the Vatican cameos, and in my anxiety to oblige the Pope I lost touch with several interesting English cases."

—Sherlock Holmes, The Hound of the Baskervilles

The second tale, "The Vatican Cameos," is a bit of a flashback episode to when Holmes first met the Pope. Leo XIII has sent a collection of cameos to Queen Victoria. The cameos are secured tightly in the box they're delivered in, but upon their arrival in London, the box is empty. The Queen has a simple solution: send Sherlock Holmes. Watson is busy with a medical emergency, so he wasn't around.



When Watson asks Sherlock about the incident, Holmes says, quite clearly “Watson, I am incapable of spinning a tale in the way you do. The narrative would read like a scientific treatise.”



Madam Lewis certainly read "The Adventure of the Gloria Scott."



So, there is only one person left who can narrate this tale … the Pope himself. This was the story that truly showed that the author did her research, assembling little details of Leo XIII's interests and hobbies and putting them together into a rich, vibrant character. He is shown here as witty, humorous, and bright.



The byplay between Leo XIII and Holmes in this story was marvelously entertaining. The Pope is shown to be about as smart as Watson … maybe a little smarter. When Holmes first meets the Pontiff, and rattles off conclusions in his usual rapid-fire manner, the Pope takes a minute, and deduces how Holmes came to most of them. Not all, but most. This is a wonderful inversion of what is so typical of early Sherlock Holmes films—in the Basil Rathbone movies, whenever Holmes walked onto the screen, the IQ of everyone in the room dropped about ten points. Making Leo this smart only serves to make Holmes as impressive as he should be—yes, everyone else may be smart, but Holmes is smarter.



Also, having Leo XIII using Thomas Aquinas to talk with Holmes of reason and science … it works for me.



And the scene with Holmes, the Pope, and the gunman was fun, too.

"You know that I am preoccupied with this case of the two Coptic Patriarchs, which should come to a head to-day."



Sherlock Holmes, “The Retired Colourman”

"The Second Coptic Patriarch": The third and final tale is from yet another throwaway line of Arthur Conan Doyle's.



In this case, a former criminal comes to Holmes to solicit his services; the priest who converted him away from his life of crime is in jail for murder. A bookstore owner has been murdered with a book (“The Rule of Oliver Cromwell--weighty subject, no doubt,” Holmes quips), and the priest will only say that the victim was dead when he arrived.  It's almost Sherlock Holmes meets Alfred Hitchcock ... I didn't know someone could do I Confess like this. It's a fun little read, and possibly the most traditional of the Holmes stories -- it's a good tale.  From the perspective of the overall book, it's a perfect cap to the character arc.



Now, after reading Murder in the Vatican, I think I'm going to go back and finish the Sherlock Holmes series -- and keep Murder in the Vatican handy, so I can read them all in chronological order.



Ann Lewis said that the book was "meant to be fun and lift your heart for a short time. I had a blast writing it, and I hope you have a blast reading it."



Mission accomplished.



At the time I read this book, I had been reading another recent work of Sherlock Holmes-related fiction called The Sherlockian.  It was written by a Graham Moore, and it was about a Sherlock Holmes nerd who was sucked into a murder mystery.



Between the two of them, read Murder in the Vatican.



I want to thank Madam Lewis for her time and energy with the guest blog and the interview, and I want to thank her for this marvelous book.  It has been a pleasure to have her on board.

And, now, a surprise .... a sneak peek of the novel.



Enjoy.

An Excerpt

From “The Case of Cardinal Tosca”

“Good Lord.” Harden’s face grew pale. “Rosalinda—!”



Pope Leo blanched as well. Tapping his right fist in his opposite hand, he turned to look out the window behind him. The rain clouds had now blotted the sun, making it seem as dusk in the early afternoon sky.



The pope turned back to us, his dark eyes flashing with decision. “Giocomo!” He commanded suddenly. “Come here.”



Father Dionisio came quickly to his master’s side.



“Remove your cassock.”



“Holiness?”



“Subito!” As Leo spoke, he lifted the pectoral cross over his head and set it on the table. He then unwrapped the sash from around his waist and tossed it on his chair. “Presto! Presto! We have no time to waste.”



Hurriedly, the young man unbuttoned his cassock even as Leo unbuttoned his own. Holmes came around the table and knelt to help Leo with the lower buttons.



“What on earth —?” I asked.



“You’ll see,” said Holmes.



Dionisio removed his cassock and stood in simple black shirt, clerical collar and black trousers. Holmes helped Leo slip out of his white cassock and into the black gown provided by Dionisio. The black was almost the right size, though fuller through the midsection due to Dionisio’s thicker frame.



“You’re not serious, Holiness,” said Harden. “You’re not actually leaving the Vatican. Someone may recognise you—”



“‘If the highest aim of a captain were to preserve his ship,’” Leo replied, quoting what I later learned was Aquinas. “‘He would keep it in port forever.’” He buttoned the top of the cassock while Dionisio crouched to fasten the bottom. “We must go. An innocent child is in danger for my sake.”



“Signore Harden is right, Holiness,” said Dionisio from floor. “This is madness.”



“Basta.” Leo pulled the young man from the ground by the elbow. He gestured emphatically with an open hand to the top of his head. “Portami un cappello. Presto!” Dionisio dashed into the next room. “And black stockings and shoes—ah, never mind I’ll find something.” The pontiff marched with remarkable energy into a side room that I guessed to be his sleeping area and returned promptly with black calf-length boots. His gentleman servant now trailed him protesting in rapid Italian as His Holiness moved. While the pontiff sat on a small bench to kick off his red slippers and pull on the boots, the agitated servant knelt beside him rambling so quickly that neither Harden nor I could decipher any meaning from him.



Apparently the meaning didn’t register to Leo either. “Basta, basta, BASTA!” He barked, stomping his boot-covered foot. He pointed a thumb to his chest. “Ego sum Petros!” He made sweeping gesture to drive the man from in front of him. “Vai!” Struck with terror, the butler dodged from the old man’s path as Leo charged to a baroque style cherry wood cabinet. From it he removed a worn, black leather case that he tucked under his arm. He finished buttoning his cuffs and Dionisio returned with a small, wide-brimmed black hat, which Leo snatched from him. He then plucked off his white zucchetto and slapped it into the bewildered priest’s hands.



“Allora, Signori,” Leo said to us, dropping the black hat on his head. “Andiamo.”



“You’ve forgotten one detail, Padre,” said Holmes, in reference to the pope’s new attire.



“Che?”



“L’anello.” Holmes held up his right hand and pointed to his fourth finger.



“Ah.” Leo pulled the fisherman’s ring from his finger and dropped it into the left pocket of the black cassock. The young priest then handed him a tall black umbrella, and Leo set its end to the floor with authoritative thud.



It is amazing how clothes can change the appearance of a man. Where once stood the proverbial Vicar of Christ on Earth, now stood a simple, venerable Italian priest. Strangely, he resembled the aged Italian cleric persona Holmes once adopted to avoid the notice of Professor Moriarty.



I glanced at Holmes and saw him giving me a knowing grin. “Very well then,” he said. “As the man says—let’s go.”