Apocalypse of Jude

“You remember when you went to Mass at Pentecost.”

From the armchair in Caul’s room, Jude simply nods his head at him, aware that a deep silent chasm is pushing between them. But Caul remains focussed, wanting to say more.

“Well, I had this weird trip that night when everybody I saw in the bar was part of the living dead. Except you. You had this life as if burning from within you, fighting against the death trying to steal your life away. And I remember suddenly feeling that I had to help you escape from that death. It seemed that if you escaped that death, then maybe we could be restored to life. Later that day, in my room, you told me that maybe you had the Holy Spirit inside of you, but you didn’t know anymore. It struck me that if you had the Spirit in you, then that’s why you weren’t dead like the rest of us. But it didn’t make sense, because you are the person Paul and I have uprooted most. You should be dead. But you’re not. Why not?”

There is a long silence as Jude calmly finishes smoking his cigarette while looking distantly through the door of Caul’s room and beginning to wonder which way the betrayal really ran.

“I recall that when I was confirmed I received the spiritual seal. Let’s see if I can remember.”

Jude gazes ceilingward for a moment.

“The spirit of wisdom and understanding, of right judgement and courage, of knowledge and reverence and the spirit of holy fear in God. And I was told to guard what I had received; that God had marked me with a sign which Christ had confirmed by placing the Spirit in my heart.”

He laughs one of his elegant laughs.

“So you were right those months ago about me having the Spirit in me. But I have obviously not guarded very well have I? Otherwise, I might have been able to offer you some holy wisdom as to why you think I’m not dead.”

He laughs now in a mocking way, remembering that night when Paul ritually mock executed him in the bar as a substitute priest king for the true dark deed still to come.

/it is me that paul killed/ /not you caul/

“For what it’s worth, and it’s ironic I know, but preparation for confirmation includes recognising your wretched state, so you can be in a state of grace to receive the sacrament. And it also includes growing familiar with the Spirit and his workings. So maybe there’s hope for you yet Caul to find your grail. Maybe your death is not what you think it is. Then you can come heal me if you find it. God knows I need it.”

He laughs again, but this time sadly to himself and for the first time really desiring to put his betrayal of Caul right.

“So I say, let go of this maniacal dream that Paul’s sucked you into. Uprooting people’s hope has never ever been you. You’ve got every reason to hate people and want to make their lives miserable. I mean, you’ve been treated like dirt ever since you arrived. Yet something lies within your breast that wants to triumph over that hate. And it has always given me hope, even though you know I despise you for that unfortunate trait.”

Jude smiles and for a moment feels a glint of light burn against the darkness in his soul. But darkness overpowers him with unworthiness, and in the torturous moment he finds worthiness only in vindicating himself of his own betrayal. He rises from his chair.

“Right my questing healer, I think I will go back and join the living dead while you mull on what’s to be the best medicine.”

After he leaves, Caul steps up to his bedroom window and looks out over the darkened town.

/why is it that they in this town do not realise they are dead/ /havent we undone them enough/

Waiting in the silence, he suddenly comes to understand.

/because weve got them preferring to believe in fortuitous order rising from chaos//rather than nothing at all/

Caul lets his mind turn back over his conversation with Jude.

/i desperately want to know the source of life that jude does not know he has/ /if i can find the door that leads back to life again/ /will that life come to me/ /will i be able to receive it and lead others to that door/

/who can lead me to this door but jude/ /but he knows not that he stands at it/ /and who will come through it as light to take me out of this darkness/ /will it be mae/ /how can it be/ /even if she does come round and accept what is now happening/ /the death has her too/

Hopeless, he breathes and holds out the palms of his two hands, weighing in them the worlds in which he now lives.

/if i am to continue languishing in this hell/ /i need to remember that im in purgatory as well/ /surely paradise must be at hand ready to breathe its light into me/

Wasteland Mix: Fragment 25