The Underground Church

26-3/9-7/2010

Part 2

Chapter one

Guido was taken to the police station in Tel Aviv, where he was searched for the second time.  Now though he denied any knowledge of the penknife and the yellow envelope, Guido was charged with smuggling illegal drugs and as a terrorist accessory, because of his association with the Hamas terrorist, Ibrahim al-Rashid, alias Abdul Rahman, alias Omar.  As evidence, the Israeli police had in their possession a photo of Guido and Ibrahim al-Rashid celebrating together in a restaurant some days previously.  Although Guido claimed innocence of all these charges, the police kept him in custody that night.

The following day, Guido was transferred from Tel Aviv to Ofer Prison Carmel[1] and placed in solitary confinement in a room three meters square, where he was kept for several weeks without trial.  He was aware that he was there on trumped up charges, but there was nothing he could do about that.  Guido had been set up by Samia and her accomplice, Abdul Rahman, or whatever his name is.

Needless to say, during this period of detention at Ofer Carmel Prison, Guido’s state of mind was at its nadir.  Unbeknown to him, this detention centre was notorious for the appalling conditions in which the mostly Palestinian prisoners were kept.  So Guido was very lucky, after a few months in Ofer Carmel Prison, to be still alive.

September 2002: Jerusalem Detention Center[2]

Three months later, Guido was transferred to the Jerusalem Detention Center.  Here he had more space to move about.  Now Guido would be able to spend half an hour each day outside his cell, in the “open-air”, where other inmates could be seen and, maybe, talked to.

A dream

It happened, during the second month of his captivity, that Guido had a dream.  He is inside a big church, or a cathedral... he is not sure.  Guido sees himself walking in several places at the same time - all churches, apparently.  It is dark inside; however, he can see that this place is definitively a house of worship.  There are other people there too.  Some of them are attending the celebration of the Holy Mass; and others are just there... 

On his way out, Guido sees a priest, but from behind, standing near the altar of a chapel dimly lit by a few candles set there on the reredos of the altar.  The priest turns to face Guido and says: ““Guido, will you grant me a talk with you some time during the day?” 

Guido wakes.  It is now six o’clock in the morning. “What a dream!” Guido said aloud to himself.  Those eyes of that priest!  They were unmistakably humane and compassionate.  He will never forget them.  He tried to make sense of his dream, but unsuccessfully.

8^th December 2003: Paul Waldo

“Guido Salvaterra ...” said the warden, as he walked into the cell where Guido was detained.  There behind him was another man, bespectacled, standing at the door waiting.  “Here is a person who wishes to talk with you.”  And as he spoke, he made a signal to the man behind him to go inside the cell.  The stranger came inside; while the warden, after cursory inspection of room, walked out, closing and locking the cell door from the other side.  

“Mr. Guido Salvaterra, my name is Paul Waldo.” said the bespectacled man.  “I am a lawyer and a friend of Tonino Sassia.  I am here to tell you that you will be released soon, perhaps, within a few days.” 

Now Guido was staring at the lawyer in total bewilderment.  He couldn’t believe what this man was telling him.  After what seemed like hours, Guido finally said: “But what happened..?  Who told you about me?”

“Guido,” said the lawyer, “I have been working on your case for about six months now - after you failed to contact your friend Br. Ignacio in Jaffa. He phoned me and told me about you.  That was 1st July 2002.”

“Oh!  Ercolino,” exclaimed Guido, “I mean Br. Ignacio, didn’t let me down after all.”

“No, Guido,” Paul Waldo said, sympathetically, “Br. Ignacio did not forget you.  Actually, he was so worried that he was even prepared to contribute some of the legal costs you might incur.  But I told him not to worry about the cost.  Somebody else was footing the bill.”

“Do you mean,” Guido said, with a mixture of surprise and elation, “Tonino Sassia is paying you for this?”

“Yes, Guido, everything has been settled and there is nothing for you to worry about.”

“But tell me,” Guido said impatiently, “how did you do it?  I mean, how will you succeed in getting me out of here shortly, as you just said?”

“I’ll be frank with you, Guido; it wasn’t that easy.  But I have some connections within the Israeli government; particularly with people who work in the department of Internal Security here in Israel.”

“I see,” said Guido.  “So all the charges they have laid against me have been dropped then?”

“More or less...” said Paul Waldo, “although technically speaking, the charges against you still stand.  The legal prosecutor in charge of your case said that you are guilty.  But on the basis of your actual mental state, your case will be closed, once you’re out of here, of course.”

“Oh, I see... that is the way they do it,” Guido said, rejuvenated, as if finally a heavy burden was lifted from him.  “Technically, you said; that means legally I’m still a criminal regardless, and a loony as well.” 

“Yes, if you like to put it that way,” the lawyer said, smiling surreptitiously.  Then he continued, “Another thing is - and I don’t want to hide this from you - you will be out of here also because of your father’s Jewish background.  You see, in spite of his conversion to the Catholic Church, the Salvaterras’ ties with the Yiddish crowd were never completely severed.  Keeping you here in prison indefinitely would not look good for the Israeli government; it would also further exacerbate its already shaky diplomatic relations with the Vatican.”

“I see. I would never have thought of that,” Guido replied.  “Can you tell me a little more; how these mishaps and intrigues all came against me?”

“Alright, in your case, Guido, I will tell you what I discovered.  Now does the name of Nogara Giovanni mean anything to you?”

“Yes it does, but why?”

“About six months ago, you were in Rome, asking some hot questions; first with your friend Nogara Giovanni, then with Montefiori Giovanna, who happens to be the daughter of Montefiori Egidio.  Then, thanks to Giovanna, you were able to meet with her father and with Bongiorno who, incidentally, was there at the time of your meeting with Montefiori Egidio; isn’t that so?”

“Yes, that’s what happened,” Guido replied.  “But please go on.”

“Guido, as you probably already know, for centuries the Nogaras, the Montefioris and the Bongiornos have been part of the old Roman Black Nobility.  They have a lot in common.  Historically, these families sided with the papacy, because of their Catholic faith one may say, but mostly for political reasons, because of the power of the Catholic Church held in those days.  Moreover, because of their good standing with the Catholic Church, they become rich and influential within Italian society and internationally. 

“Although today, for the outsider, the affiliation between these families and the Vatican is seen to have taken a different position; for the insider, actually their affiliations are largely still the same.  In other words, the Nogaras, the Montefiori and the Bongiornos are still connected to the Vatican, because of their many long-standing vested interests in the Vatican bank - and within the ‘international community’ which in turn, is under the spell of the synagogue.”  Paul paused for a few moments.  “Guido, are you still with me?” he asked.

“Yes, I am, Paul. Go on.”

“Now back to Nogara Giovanni, after you talked to him at the café in Piazza Navona, the day you were expecting his call which never eventuated, for the reasons you now may guess - he phoned Montefiori instead.

“Then after Nogara contacted Montefiori, Montefiori contacted Bongiorno who then turned up ‘coincidentally’ at the meeting the following morning.  You asked them for information on ‘the Pope in red’, Cardinal Siri, Pope Gregory XVI; then, in regard to the Fatima message, the attempted assassination on John Paul II and what was behind it.  All those questions scared the shit out of them.  That was the last thing they wanted to hear.  In their view, you were sticking your nose into dark affairs which they would rather never hear mentioned.  So Guido, are you getting the picture?”

“Yes, I am starting to,” Guido replied, “but I still can’t see why my questioning upset them so much?”

“As I said before, it is because everything is tied to the State of Israel and its reason d’etre.  In other words, Israel stands on the deathbed of Catholic Church – or if that isn’t possible, at least on her neutralised and weaker position.  Because the Catholic Church and Israel cannot coexist – one has to relinquish its prerogative for the other to exist.  This conflict has been going on for 2000 years, my friend.” 

“Okay,” said Guido. “I understand that. But it’s still not clear to me what part Nogara, Montefiori and Bongiorno have in all this.”

“Guido, you have to try to see things from a different angle.  You are seeing these people as individuals rather than as families.  You have to see them as a group of persons who have a lot in common.  Or even better, look at them as dynasties, whose real interests are tied to the most powerful and influential people on earth, in this case, Israel with its alliance to international Jewry.  The Vatican, being weak and compromised with the powerful synagogue and Israel, the Black Nobility peripheral has switched to Israel’s side.  For that reason and for convenience, Nogaras, Montefioris and Bongiornos did likewise.  They know on what side their bread is buttered.

“So Guido, now can you see how Nogara was instrumental in your arrest here in Israel?”

“Yes, I can see that.”  Guido said.  “But your analysis has some missing links.  What about Samia, and Ibrahim al-Rashid, Abdul Rahman, or whatever his name is.  Did you find out anything about their involvement to my arrest?”

“I was coming to that,” the lawyer said.  “Samia is a Shin Bet agent.  You know the parallel of Mossad.  And she works in  Montefiori Giovanna’s tourist agency, Beltempo, which is a shop front for Shin Bet’s covert operations in Rome.  First, as you probably noticed, Samia was sent to follow you to New York and to gather information on you for the Israeli government.  Then she turned up in Tel Aviv at Pensione Eden House where she set you up to meet Ibrahim al-Rashid, her companion in the army.  One night, the three of you got together in a restaurant, ostensibly to celebrate her birthday.  She took photos of you together drinking a glass of Chianti.... the rest of the story you know already.”

“Yes,” said Guido, “almost everything fits the picture.  But why was Ibrahim al-Rashid arrested by the police for the explosion at the market in Tel Aviv if he was in league with Samia, who was working for the Shin Bet?’  

“Ibrahim al-Rashid,” the lawyer said, “is a double agent.  He was a Hamas member - like others posing as fellow travelers - but on the pay of the Shin Bet.  Also, Guido, you have to know that Hamas is a creature of the IDF[3].  Like some other Middle East ‘terrorist groups’, Hamas is controlled by the IDF.  It suits Israel to have these terrorist organizations working for them to justify their murderous bloodlust and to enable their illegal occupation of zones, like the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, in perpetuity.”  At this point Paul Waldo stopped talking and peered at his watch: “My time with you is over.  Now I must leave you, Guido.”

The cell door opened, and the warden, standing at entrance, asked Paul Waldo to leave.  After Guido and Paul exchanged blessings and a strong handshake, the lawyer departed.

Chapter two

6th January 2003: Italy

It was rather chilly the morning Guido was freed from prison, however the sky was deep blue and the sun shone its glorious light around him.  

The same day Guido flew with Alitalia from Ben Gurion International Airport to Italy.  On the plane, he was served a meal – the first decent food he had tasted for six months - then Guido asked a pleasant Italian hostess for something to read and she brought him two newspapers: ‘Il Corriere della Sera’ and ‘The Telegraph’.

Guido was shocked to see the article on page 3 of Il Corriere della Sera:

What drew Guido’s attention was the photo.  The face of the dead man was too familiar to Guido.  It was that of the lawyer Paul Waldo.  ‘My God! not him!’  Guido was totally shocked.  And it took him hours to recover.

‘This was no ordinary accident,’ Guido told himself.  ‘Paul Waldo has been assassinated by thugs working for Shin Bet or Mossad.  They killed him because he spoke the truth with me when he came to see in that prison.  I bet my cell was bugged.”  

On arrival in Italy, Guido traveled by train from Milan to Ravenna to visit his mother and sister Agnese.  The sheer joy for Guido’s mother and sister to see him finally out of prison! He was again a free man and relatively in a good health, in spite of the suffering and privation during the six months inside those terrible walls in Israel.

In Ravenna, Guido had plenty of time to ponder what to do with himself.  To continue his investigation was out of the question at the moment, he thought.  His briefcase, with all his vital papers, was seized by the prison security staff, never to be returned.  So what now?  

At the moment, there was a very urgent matter for Guido to deal with - Paul Waldo.  His only desire now was to shed light on this fatal accident, if it truly was as the media said. He decided to call his contact in Tel Aviv, Max Miller.

“Hello ... is this Max Miller’s office?” Guido asked.  He was calling from a pay phone in his home town. “Yes, who is speaking?” a male voice answered.

“Is that you, Max? This is Salvaterra Guido here… in Italy.”

“Ah! Guido, finally… How are you, my boy?  I haven’t heard from you since you were here at my place.”  From the sound of his voice, Guido had the impression that Max was totally in the dark about what had happened to him in Israel. Or was he feigning ignorance?

“I am fine, Max,” Guido replied, uneasily.  “I wanted to ask you about the lawyer, Paul Waldo...”

“Paul Waldo, yes what about him?”  Max’s gravelly voice sounded a bit hesitant.

“Didn’t you read the paper, Max?” then, without waiting for an answer, “Paul Waldo was found dead on the street in the centre of Tel Aviv, presumably killed in a hit-and-run accident.” 

For some seconds neither of them spoke.  Then Max Miller broke the silence: “Yes, I read about Paul Waldo’s accident.  I am really sorry for him, and more so for his family.”

“Max,” Guido said edgily, “do you really think it was an accident?”

“What are you implying, Guido… that he was murdered?”

“Yes, that is what I think, Max.”  The line went dead.  Guido tried to call Max again, unsuccessfully. 

Once he regained his composure, Guido began thinking over the time spent at the Jerusalem Detention Center.  The fresh image of Fr. Joseph Charpentier was still with him. 

“Guido, when you’re out of here and back in civilian life please keep me in your prayers; but pray God that my many sins will be forgiven by His fatherly mercy,”  Fr. Joseph tenderly asked Guido a couple of days before was he released from prison.

Chapter three

Father Joseph Charpentier

Fr. Joseph Charpentier was a Jesuit priest, about 70 years old, from Avignon, France.  He was over six feet tall with the physique of an athlete.  While on vacation in the Holy Land in 2000, he was arrested in Jerusalem by the Israeli police, on the pretext that he refused to conceal his crucifix which was forbidden to be worn publicly in Israel.  Once at the police station, the police added two new accusations: proselytizing and assault, both of which Fr. Joseph denied.

He was imprisoned, first in Facility 1391[4], a secret Israeli prison the whereabouts of which Fr. Joseph had no knowledge.  It was a very dark night, and he was blindfolded when the Israeli police drove Fr. Joseph to Facility 1391.  He spent a couple of months there.  After that, Fr. Joseph Charpentier was moved to the Jerusalem Detention Center, where Guido first met him.

The horrific story of the time Fr. Joseph Charpentier spent at Facility 1391 had no equal. For the first few weeks, Fr. Joseph had to put up with sleepless nights, without mattress or blanket, on the concrete floor of his cell, the ceiling light on 24 hours a day.  His toilet was a rusty container in the corner.  The food was meager and tasteless. He was not allowed visitors.  Not a few times, Fr Joseph complained to the wardens about not feeling well, but no assistance was given.

To make his suffering worse, for a year or so Fr. Joseph never saw the light of the day, for his only living space was his cell.  He received verbal abuse constantly from most of the prison staff.  They hated him, because of his garb and for what he represented to them – a traditional Catholic priest who would never compromise his status.  He was aware, though, that he was not the only one to suffer there; other prisoners were faring even worse than him.

Notwithstanding all the miseries and atrocities within the walls of the detention centers, Fr. Joseph never lost hope and faith in God.  As a real traditional Catholic, his strength sprang from his profound spirituality.  He was a man of deep and inexhaustible prayer and very devoted to Holy Mary, the Mother of Jesus Christ.    

Now when Guido first saw Fr Joseph, he was a little at a loss.  Fr. Joseph’s eyes were the reason for Guido’s mystification, for want of a better word.  Those kind eyes reminded Guido of his dream some months earlier.  How could he forget them?  But was there a correlation between his dream and this priest?  He did not know.  Only time would tell.

It seemed to Guido that the only worthwhile time spent in that detention centre was when he was able to see Fr. Joseph during the brief recreational open-air periods.

It came to pass that the few times Guido could talk to Fr. Joseph were a real blessing to him, though it wasn’t easy to talk during those ‘open-airs’, for in fact they did not allow it.  It depended on which warden was on duty monitoring their movements – if sympathetic, they knew they could talk; if the contrary they dare not,   and so had to await a better opportunity to be able to exchange ideas more freely.

Fr. Joseph’s disclosure

By-and-by, after several encounters with Fr. Joseph, one afternoon Fr. Joseph said to him: “Guido, can you keep a secret?”

“Of course I can, Father.”

“I know that you are a man of honor and your heart is all for our   Lord Jesus Christ and His beloved Church.  As I understood you, my friend, in the few weeks of our talks, your heart and mind are now set on finding out if there exists on earth a remnant of the traditional, Apostolic Catholic Church as we had before Vatican II; and, if so, where is she now?”  

Fr. Joseph stopped talking for a moment and kindly laid his eyes on Guido’s expectant face; then he resumed, “Guido, the true head of the Catholic Church is no longer in Rome, but in Antioch, near the modern city of Antakya, Turkey, but we our underground there.”

“We are underground?” Guido interjected. “Do you mean, Father, like in the catacombs of ancient times, and you yourself are part of it?”

“Yes, Guido,” said Fr. Joseph, “I belong, even though at present, in chains.”  Then the bell rang, it was time for them to go back into their cells.

Those reminiscences were poignant...  yes, even now… but worth more than anything I can think of, Guido deliberated.  Then he thought about the task his Dad had entrusted to him to complete; it lay unfinished now.  ‘What shall I do?’ Guido thought to himself. 

“The truth be told, if I want my search to come to something, I don’t have any other alternative but to go to Turkey.  There I might find the answer.”

Guido’s dilemma

Before setting out for his journey to Antioch, there were still some crucial points Guido needed to clarify.

“There is no salvation outside the Catholic Church”, Guido deliberated. “But which church can claim that nowadays, the official church in Rome or the underground church?  The official church in Rome doesn’t hold this credo any longer, for it is out of line with ecumenism and is it not politically correct to declare it.  As far as the ordinary people are concerned, the underground church doesn’t exist.

“For over 2000 years, the Church has been the centre of gravity for true light, justice and peace on earth.  For belief and stability, the people looked to Rome as their ultimate assurance. Roma locuta, causa finita est – Rome, that is, the Pope, has spoken, the cause, that is, discussion, is finished[5], the saying goes.

“Thus, if Rome is silent today on many important issues, so is the underground church; but for different reasons - because she has nowhere else to go, to be out of sight from her perennial foes, lest the worst may happen to her. 

“Furthermore, there is still Fatima, with its messages and three secrets that I have to take into account.  Fatima carries no weight with the church in Rome today.”  Guido brooded intensely over all this. 

Fatima

Fatima conveys the apparitions of our Lady, the Immaculate Mary, to the three children at Fatima in 1917.  Actually, to Guido Fatima also conveys the ultimate message from Heaven that Mary, the Mother of God, is inseparable from Her Son, Jesus Christ.

Nowadays, though, whoever denies that, as many Novus Ordo Catholics seem to [following the example of most protestant denominations and the Talmudic Jews] is not a true Catholic. Now in Guido’s mind, two noticeable characteristics set true Catholics apart from counterfeit Catholics: our Lady, and the Jews.[6]

From the Church’s inception, Mary was, and still is, part of traditional Catholic doctrine and devotion. Moreover, in a nutshell, the Fatima message tells Guido, unmistakably, that Communism, rooted in Satanist Talmudic Judaism, by spreading its poisonous philosophy, will conquer the minds and the hearts of Catholics and non-Catholics alike – bringing global apostasy - if Russia is not consecrated to the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

Chapter four

Antioch, Turkey

It was the middle of spring when Guido arrived at the Ankara airport.  A gray haze covered the sky, a mild air and an unidentifiable calm reigned.  This was his second visit to Turkey.  His first was a three weeks vacation in the year 2000.  Turkey was his favourite country; its rich architectural heritage had kindled his desire to learn more about its Christian history.  It was here in Anatolia, present-day Turkey, where Christianity was established by the great Apostle St Peter with St Mark as his companion, and St Paul, accompanied by St Barnabas, between the years 45 and 68 AD.

It was to Antioch[7] that Guido was heading.  In Ankara he had only to spend a day or two, then on by a bus to Antioch.  Now, according to Guido’s study, Antioch was a chief center of early Christianity.  The city had a large population of Jewish origin in a quarter called the Kerateion, and so attracted the earliest missionaries.  Evangelized by St Peter himself, according to the tradition upon which the Antiochene patriarchate still rests its claim for primacy, and certainly later by Barnabas and Paul during his first missionary journey.  Its converts were the first to be called ‘Christians’.

So here Guido is, walking in the ruins of the ancient Anatolia, which soil has been soaked by the blood of many Christians during the Roman Empire.  

One may well wonder if Guido’s coming to Antioch is to follow the steps of Saints Peter and Paul, and so regenerate his own Catholic faith, or is it to ascertain if there is still a remnant of the true Catholic Church on earth, in spite of the demise of the Church in Rome?”

Probably both; or maybe for something even greater. But what?  Guido did not yet know.  Deep in his heart he felt there were a vacuum to be filled, but only by a divine love, and a shadow of an uncertainty to be dispelled by the knowledge that Mother Church, although suffering, was still alive and true to her Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

“Now isn’t suffering part of life?” Guido reflected.  The Gospel says:

Nowadays, it seems that the enemies of Mother Church, the rabbis, heretics, schismatics, Masons, Communists and self-styled Jews – the modern-day Pharisees - have won the war against her; but not the final battle.

Assuming that Cardinal Siri was elected to the throne of St Peter as Pope Gregory XVII in 1958 - although forced by the Masonic B’nai B’rith to relinquish his title – then the subsequent election of Cardinal Roncalli as Pope John XXIII was illegitimate, that is, not valid.  And the next three successors to the throne of St Peter were invalid also.

Subsequently, the ‘Pope in Red’ having yielded to his foes’ pressure, Pope Gregory XVII became virtually a prisoner of Rome Newchurch.  Then, on June 3rd, 1990[11], it was reported that Pope Gregory XVII’s Cardinal Camerlengo called for a papal election.  After Pope Gregory XVII died a new Pope was elected.  However, his name and his domicile is unknown. 

According to Fr. Joseph Charpentier, the authentic traditional and Apostolic Catholic Church is underground in Antioch.  But where, exactly?  Everywhere in Turkey there are hundreds of tunnels underground, some of them hundreds of kilometers in length.  So probably Antioch is no different from the rest of the ancient places in this country.

It won’t be an easy task.  Guido is aware of the difficulties he is going to face, once in Antioch.  No, come what may; God will provide.

Chapter five

Göreme[12] Cappadocia

The five-hour night trip by bus from Ankara to Göreme was rather uneventful, though Guido was glad to stop at Göreme for perhaps two or three days. After that he would continue his journey to Antioch.  He got a taxi to his lodging, Guven Cave Hotel, which had been booked a day earlier.

Now Guido’s decision to break the journey wasn’t accidental. He needed time to think over what concerned him most: his faith in God and his commitment to the Catholic Church, and lastly, how he’s going to contain in himself this excruciating longing for the true Catholic Church that pains him so much. 

The following morning, Guido had breakfast on the terrace, on the hotel roof.  From here, the view of the town of Göreme was exquisite – just as the hotel brochures describe it:

Yes, it was the right place for reflection and rest.  Right now, though, Guido was looking for a cup of good Turkish coffee and something to eat.

It was early, so most the tables on the terrace were still vacant.  A lone couple sat at a table near the white stone wall.  The man in his mid-thirties, a Lyndon Johnson look-alike, was drinking coffee; the woman, with short-cropped blond hair, was about the same age as her companion, with a matronly figure, but good looking, nonetheless.

Rachel Cohen & Peter Pierleoni

As Guido walked to the table next to the couple, the woman turned, looked at Guido and said: “Good morning.”  From her accent, Guido guessed she was Canadian.

“Good morning,” Guido said, “are you new travelers here too?”

“Yes, why? Are you also a visitor here in Göreme?” the woman enquired.

“I just arrived early this morning from Ankara,” Guido said, “But my destination is Antioch actually.”

“Ah!  That is interesting, we are traveling into that direction too,” she said smiling at him.

Their talk went on for a while longer.  It transpired that the woman was a Canadian, Rachel Cohen, and her companion was Peter Pierleoni, a USA citizen living in Canada for the last five years.  The two of them were partners in some sort of import-export business; but they said at the moment they were on vacation in Turkey for couple of weeks.

After breakfast, Guido walked to the travel agency, Matiana, located in the centre of town.  Inside the travel agency, Guido asked the woman at the desk for a map of the area. She was around 25 years old, with long jet-black hair and rather attractive.  Guido got out his wallet, but the young woman told him: “It’s free, you can have.”  Guido thanked her and left.

Armağan

Just a few meters from the travel agency Guido noticed a shop selling antiques. Over the door was a plaque with the inscription, 'eski is yeni iyi' [the old is better than the new].  Guido stepped in.  Old candelabras, old metal irons, aged metal bathtubs, medieval icons, second-hand books, worn carpentry tools, rusty medical instruments, old navigation devices, pre-Byzantine stones, Ottoman jewelry, 12th or 13th century Ottoman clothing, etcetera.

There was everything in that shop that would catch the eye of an enthusiastic antique buff.  But what caught Guido’s attention was a small terracotta pendant with a fish carved on it.  Not only that, but this pedant had the inscription, ichthus.  Now Guido knew that ichthus is the ancient Greek word and symbol for Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior.[14]

“Good morning. Is there anything you are interested in?” said a soft, educated voice behind him. It was a Turkish man of average height, around 35 years old, with a short beard, black hair and a spark of light in his dark big eyes.

“I’m only browsing,” Guido said, bemused. “I see you have a lot of interesting stuff in your shop.  I want to ask you, though, this pendant with a fish on it...”  Guido pointed it out to him.

“Oh that!” the shopkeeper said. “Why? Are you interested in it?”

“Well,” Guido said warily. “I am just curious; because I see there is a fish on that pendant, and that’s a Christian symbol, isn’t it?”

“Are you a Christian?” 

“Actually, I’m a Catholic ...” Guido replied warily, thinking to himself: most likely this guy is a Muslim with not much sympathy for Christianity, let alone Catholicism.  Now what am I to tell him - that I’m here in search of the Holy Grail?  .

“I am a Catholic too!” he said; then offering his hand, added, “My name is Armağan; I am pleased to meet you.”

They shook hands.  Armağan was a local person. He and all his family were Orthodox, but he had converted to Catholicism only recently.  Just then, the entry bell sounded as Rachael and Peter entered the shop.  Guido glanced at them but said nothing.  As they came closer, Armağan said quietly, as he slipped a card with his address into Guido’s hand, “Guido, why don’t you come to my place this evening for dinner, so we can talk privately?”

Chapter six

“What brought you to Göreme?” Armağan asked Guido, while he was serving dinner.  Armağan lived in a one-bedroom apartment on top of the hill, just ten minutes walk from his shop.  Still a bachelor, hopefully one day he would marry, if he can find the right girl.  Now, for dinner, they are having tandır with vegetables, and a bottle of Italian Valpolicella, followed by sϋtlaç, a type of rice pudding served with fruit. 

“It was Turkey’s rich ecclesiastical history that prompted me to come back here.” He paused for some moments as for breath, then continued. “You see, Armağan, I am here in a sort of mission...”  Guido told him part of his story about his father death, his work as a freelance journalist, and the investigation he was making. 

“So from here, Guido, you’ll be going to Antioch, searching for the underground Church.”

“That’s what I intend to do,” Guido responded.

“Guido, do you really believe there is an underground church here in Turkey, or for that matter anywhere else on earth?” Armağan asked, in a friendly way. 

Guido gazed at him for some time not knowing how to answer.  He had never even evaluated or dared to ask such a question to himself.  Was he wrong, all along after all?  Does he really believe that the underground Catholic Church exists?

“Well, yes I do. Why, do you think…” Guido said, finding his voice again eventually.

“Guido, listen,” Armağan said sympathetically, “now I’m not saying that the underground Catholic Church doesn’t exist.  What I am trying to convey to you is that you should not take it too literally.”

“What you mean by that, Armağan?” Guido asked, not a little distressed by now.  “Is this to be interpreted somehow as a consolation for gullible people like me?”

“No, my friend,” Armağan answered affectionately, “Metaphorically speaking, Guido, the true sense of the underground church is that the Catholic Church is hibernating; it’s in winter mode at present.  Even though we don’t deny that the underground church exists; here we say she is out of sight, for fear of the Jews.  So once you are in Antioch, Guido, don’t be disappointed if you don’t find what you are looking for.”

“Are you saying that my coming here is fruitless; that I’m on a wild goose chase?” Guido asked indignantly.

“No Guido, your coming to Turkey is a blessing, for both of us.  For you, because it will be an opening for a new spiritual perception; and you will see things in a different light now.  Here you will learn how to live your Catholic faith under totally new circumstances to you.  For me it is a blessing, for I am very happy to know that there are still people like you in this world who, for love of Mother Church, would die rather than compromise their faith for the things of this world.”

“But Armağan,” said Guido, “did you ever come across people who belong to the underground Church?”

“As I said before, the underground Church is in winter mode for the time being,” Armağan replied. “Being out of sight, although her centre truly is in Antioch, her members are spread everywhere.  I am one of them.  And in my kind of business, from time to time I meet people like you who enquire as to the whereabouts of the true successor of St Peter and his followers.  I tell them that I don’t know the whereabouts of the head of the Church, because it’s unknown except by the few who are constantly with him.  But where they are, is a secret.”

“So if the state of Church affairs is as you say, what about the sacraments? Where do you go to receive them?”

“As for myself, I received the sacraments anytime a priest of ours comes this way to celebrate the Holy Sacrifice; or I go where one of them is visiting.  Remember that in China there are Christian communities living for decades without the consolation of the presence of a Catholic priest, and the graces they bring through the sacraments.  They survive somehow, by God’s grace, of course.”

“Thanks, Armağan, for warming me with your kindly and wise words.” 

Now as Guido prepared to leave, for it was almost midnight, Armağan spoke again: “God bless you, Guido. Keep in mind the parable Jesus spoke regarding the Church of God:

“Likewise for the underground Church, hidden away and waiting for springtime, when our Lord Jesus Christ will come again. Another passage from the gospel, most dear to me, which recaps everything we had been talking about tonight, is:

“So, my dear friend, it is also for us to die in order to yield much fruit.”

Were these last words which Armağan spoke to Guido somehow prophetic?  Was Armağan telling Guido something that was unknown to him?  Continue on, dear reader.

The following morning, Guido was breakfasting on the terrace when Rachael and Peter arrived and joined him at his table.  “Good morning, Guido,” Rachael said cheerfully, “do you mind if we join you?”  Without waiting for a reply, she added, “How was your day, yesterday, anyway?”

“It was very interesting; thank you Rachael.”     

“Peter and I saw you in that antique shop, but you were busy talking to the shopkeeper and….”  At the moment she said that, a feeling of anticlimax held sway between them. 

“Oh!  I am sorry, Rachel,” Guido spoke hesitantly.  He felt awkward and uncomfortable, for he was not in the mood for small talk.

“Anyway, Guido,” Rachael said, unperturbed, “...yesterday I was going to ask you about the town of Konya.  Have you been there?”

“No, I’ve never been there. Why?” Guido replied.

“We, I mean Peter and I and a friend of ours from the US, have booked to go to Konya tomorrow.  It happened, however, our friend has changed her plans and she cannot come tomorrow.  So I was wondering if you’d be interested in taking her place on the bus.  You don’t have to pay anything, it’s on us.  What do you say?”

‘Oh! That is very generous of you,” Guido said.  “Yes, I would be interested to join you.  What time is the bus departing?”

“We’ll be leaving here in the morning at 8:30; and we’ll back in Göreme the next day around 10 a.m.” she said with a sense of finality.  Peter was sitting at the table listening to the conversation, but never said a word.

The Konya[17] excursion

The bus was just half full when Guido, Rachael and Peter took their seats in the second row.  The weather was fine and an undefined stillness surrounded them.  The first hour of the journey went calmly. Suddenly, the driver, for no apparent reason, pulled over on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.  Guido noticed two cars, one red and one black, parked on the side of the road behind them.

Hijacking

Two occupants of the red car came to the front of the bus.  The driver got off the bus to meet them and they talked for a while.  Both parties each held a sheet of paper in their hands and were peering at those sheets of paper as if comparing notes - most probably the list of passengers’ names.  Guido couldn’t understand what they were saying because they were speaking Turkish.  Then one of the men, still holding the sheet of paper, came onto the bus. “Guido Salvaterra, Peter Pierleoni and Rachael Cohen, please, get off the bus and follow us.”  Guido, now puzzled, looked at the couple for enlightenment but there was none.  Then with a shrug of his shoulders, Guido climbed down from the bus, followed by Rachael and Peter.

Guido got into the red car, and sat in the passenger seat beside the driver, while Peter and Rachel got into the back seat of the black car, which had two other occupants.

Then both cars hit the road at the same time, speeding over the bumpy surface.  After ten or fifteen minutes of driving like maniacs, the young driver screeched to a halt on a deserted secondary road in the middle of the country with no houses in view.

The black car joined the red car there, then the two men got out of their red car and approached the black car, where Rachael and Peter were.  They had a chat with the driver through the wound down window.  After a few minutes, the two men returned to their car and drove off, back onto the main road.

Guido was now very worried.  He couldn’t work out what this was all about.  He had the feeling something was very wrong; but because of the language barrier he felt totally at loss.  Suddenly a sharp pain accompanied by lightning went through his skull and he lost consciousness.  Guido had been hit with the butt of a gun by the man who sat in the back of car. 

The red car continued its course for about fifty kilometers until they reached a small dusty town.  The car turned left at the second intersection, and stopped in front of an iron gate in a five foot whitewashed stone wall which surrounded a nondescript property.  The man got out of the back and opened the gate.  They drove through on the narrow dirt path, turned left to the back of an unfinished stone house where the car stopped.   

Guido was still unconscious.  The two men got him out of the car and dragged inside the house.  The house was fairly small, and some weeds could be seen growing between the stones.  Now the two men carried Guido into the basement of this stone house, which was rather damp and musty.  Most likely, nobody had ever lived there. 

How long Guido remained unconscious is hard to say. When he came back to his senses, his face was suffused by a strong, bright light.  From the corner of the cellar he heard a guttural voice: “Guido Salvaterra, can you hear me?”

“Yes, I do...  But who are you? What place is this?”  Guido tried to identify where the voice came from, but in vain, because of the intense light in his eyes - he could see nothing but shadows.

“We are here to ask the questions; you only have to answer to them,” the voice said peremptorily.  “Tell us, where is the head of your underground church?”

“The head of my underground church?” frightened now, Guido responded with a sense of deep anxiety.  “Why do you ask me that?  I don’t know where the head of the underground church is…  Even if I knew, I would never tell you.”  From the dark corner of the room, a man approached Guido and hit him across the face with the back of his hand.  Guido, in pain, but did not mutter a word.

“Salvaterra,” the same voice said, “we know that you belong to this church.  We know about your friends, Fr. Joseph Charpentier... and Armağan in Göreme.  They must have told you the location where the pope of your rebel church lives.  You just tell us where he is and we will let you out of here.”

“I only know from Fr. Joseph and Armağan that the underground church is here in Turkey ... but no more than that, because the whereabouts of our leader is a secret and I have never been privy to it...”

“Now, you are telling us lies,” the angry voice said.  “You will never get out of here alive if you don’t tell us where your pope lives.”  At this point, someone in room rose and hit Guido on the face again with his fist.  After that they left him slumped on floor, his face badly bruised.  At this point, Guido was not only scared for his life, but a profound sense of despair took hold of him and he had no energy to fight against it.

Two hours later, two armed men paid Guido a visit. Guido was now sitting on the cellar floor with his back against the wall, motionless and praying as he never had in his whole life.  Behind the two armed men was another man in a dark suit holding in his hand the crucifix which was taken from Guido while was unconscious in the car. 

“Guido, we’re giving you one last chance to save your life.  Here is your crucifix which we took from you,” the visitor said, as he dropped the crucifix on the concrete floor.  “Now, what I ask you is that you trample on it; after you’ve done it, you will walk out of here a free man.”  Now a chill went down Guido’s spine. 

Guido’s death

“I will never do that, even if you kill me...” was Guido’s answer, and his heroic final words.  Guido was shot with two bullets to the head at close range, by one of the armed men.  He died instantly.

What happened to Guido after he was shot dead is only guesswork; because Guido’s sister, Agnese, was his only contact, and there is little documentation as such, but mostly hearsay. 

Although three things are known: Guido’s body was never found; part of his research papers were lost; and lastly, Guido’s abductors were Turkish sayanim[18] in league with the Turkey’s Military,  which in turn is in league with the Israeli government.

Maranatha 

Back to part one, please, click here.

Postscript

For the outsider, the underground Church may convey an image of a church without an identity – needless to say, having no official status whatever. In one of Guido’s notebooks, he wrote:

“Long before Dad died, I considered myself as a sort of Catholic believer. Today I see myself as a traditional Catholic who stays away from the Novus Ordo type of people.  The Orthodox Church and Protestant denominations, I never even consider them real churches, because most of them are pro-Israel.

“Then what is left for me?  Ah! I’ve almost forgot.  There are more than a few splinters from Catholicism, such as the Society of St. Pius X (SSPX) or Priestly Fraternity of Saint Peter (FSSP) or some others.  However, all of them follow the same line as the Newchurch in Rome - tacitly or officially – pro-Israel.

So should I consider the underground church as a symbol rather than a tangible reality?