Tag Archives: Santo Stefano

2.32 Two Roads Diverged

Book II: Chapter 32
July 14

God has set eternity in the hearts of men, yet they cannot fathom it.

I was sitting on my back porch, wasting another day. Off in the distance I spied a raccoon nosing around the area that covered the body of my intruder from a month ago. It set me to thinking…

What is Man? He is nothing but an animal – for his fate is the same – all come from the dust and to the dust all return. Who knows if the spirit of man goes upward and if the spirit of animal down to the earth? It’s all meaningless!

Eccl 3: 19-21

I took another sip of my version of Stone Pale Ale and got ready to ponder further, when suddenly a new vision was forced upon me — a view of my friends as they continued on with their pointless escapade…


Alan and Miriam were now sitting at a corner table outside a small cafe in Rome. Like the other diners, my friends were masked and gloved and all the tables were socially distant – as always this was claimed to be for protection against the virus, but was in reality just another population control method to keep the people separated so they couldn’t ‘conspire’ against their NWO overlords. Waiters (read: guards) constantly checked on guests (read: patrolled) to ensure the diners wear wearing their specialized Meal Masks correctly.

(You’ll recall that Meal Masks were an invention that came out around 2022 that allowed diners to wear a specially fitted mask that had a small opening around the mouth. That opening could be used to insert a paper straw into for drinking liquids or it could be configured so that it sensed when food was near the face and thus briefly opened to allow the diner to insert a small amount into their mouth. When used in the latter manner, the masks included a timer that only allowed the diner to insert food no more than once per minute to ensure the diner wasn’t contaminating the air with too much of their own breath. All of this was beyond absurd in my opinion, since like everything else with the Covid plandemic, there wasn’t any science to support Meal Masks doing anything to prevent the spread of the virus, but since Dr. Flipflop and the WHO recommended Meal Masks they’d long since become a fixture at public restaurants. Meanwhile, on a more positive note, one of the unanticipated side effects of Meal Masks is that, by limiting people’s time to eat, they became a fantastic method for portion control and in turn weight loss. You’ll probably remember the Meal Mask Diets that were all the rage a few years back – when it seemed like every celebrity was peddling some version of their own glammed up Meal Mask that they sold for a massive upcharge – causing more than a few fools to spend their entire monthly UBI’s on so they could show off to their friends).

“Why didn’t you tell me you about Purgatory?” Alan was chagrined as he left his espresso untouched on the table.

“Alan, it was not my place to tell YOU about your own secrets.” Miriam soothed, knowing that he was both embarrassed and pained.

(Lord, do I really have to sit here and watch this lover’s quarrel?)

“But, Miriam, what a fool I have been in front of you all these years!”

“Hush; don’t say such things.”

“So Jesus told you about me?”

“Yes. In the same way that The Teacher told you about my mission.”

“Of course — for surely if Jesus was willing to tell me about your purposes, why did I not realize he would explain to you about me? Oh, how bloody stupid I’ve been!”

“Alan, stop. What’s done is done. I knew eventually you would come clean with me before our time was through.”

“And yet… would it… have been different between us?”

Miriam fiddled with her mask and whispered, “Oh, Alan, who can say? We can’t change the past.”

(Now ain’t a classic woman’s answer? Ha!)

Alan sank into his chair, “I suppose there’s always a consequence for the choices we make.” But then, raising his head, chin jutting out, he averred, “Miriam, I’m going to believe that, had I honored you by telling you the truth immediately, then events would have turned out more like Jesus promised me – if I had only trusted in him completely, rather than trying to figure everything out according to my own designs.”

Miriam reached her gloved hand across the table to grasp Alan’s hand, “Thank you, Lazarus.”

“But, what about the future? What happens now, Mary?” Alan’s eyes was hopeful.

(Sorry, buddy, it’s not happening…)

Looking down, Miriam pulled her hand away, “Alan, right now we have a mission to complete.”

And after a pause, she whispered, “I’m sorry, but there is no time for a love that might have been.”

(Ouch!)

I watched as Alan did his best to swallow a (re)broken heart. In a stony voice he replied, “Alas, Miriam. You speak the truth. Even Solomon echoed your words, ‘No man can control the evil times that fall unexpectedly upon him.’ Such is the case with us too, neh?” And rising from the cafe table, “Well, we best be moving forward again. Ready?”

“Ready.” Miriam nodded, keeping her head down as she arose so that Alan would not see her tears.  


There was a brief haziness to my Sight, but soon enough it returned.

Apparently some time had passed, because when I saw Alan and Miriam again they were disguised as tourists – complete with obtrusive cameras, dollar-store sunglasses, and an armful of sightseeing brochures. Naturally they also had on their Covid QR Cards hanging around their necks so that the omnipresent patrols could scan them to verify their Vax Status. And of course they were masked and gloved like all the other visitors to The Vatican.

My friends looked to be part of socially distant tourist group on a tour of Saint Peter’s Basilica. It was amusing to see them pretending to listen to the masked clergyman giving the tour as he told all about the history of the grand structure – pointing out the architectural contributions of grand masters like Bramante, Michelangelo, and Bernini; explaining how the church could seat upwards of 60,000 people for a mass; and even giving interesting tidbits of knowledge about some of the unique furnishings inside the cathedral.

I could tell that Alan was rather enjoying the tour. Oh, probably not because the information provided was new to him – for in truth, Alan knew far more about this place than the young priest who was their guide – but instead because the subject of Religious Antiquities was his passion. I’m sure that such a discussion allowed his mind to escape some of the recent pains that had been reopened regarding Miriam.

Unable to resist, Alan ventured a question – modifying his voice in a Hungarian accent, “My friend, I noticed that you didn’t mention the old church of Santo Stefano degli Ungheresi?”

Miriam’s looked in surprise at Alan’s unexpected query, yet her Nano Mask effectively hid her facial expression from others.

Meanwhile, the tour guide hesitated only a moment before advising, “Oh, scusi me please, I didn’t realize you were Hungarian. How could I forget to mention your country’s national church? Certainly, my friend, Santo Stefano once stood over here.” And he led the group to a different area of Saint Peter’s. “In 1776, Santo Stefano was torn down in order to make this section of the Grand Basilica. My apologies, friend, but surely you’ll agree the space was put to good use, eh?”

“Of course. Grazie.” Alan replied.

“Shall we move outside to the Piazza?” The guide asked the group.

As it turned out, Alan and Miriam never did go outside with the rest of the tour; instead they loitered inside Saint Peter’s, using the mandated social distancing requirements to get lost in the shuffle and eventually making their way into a cordoned off section known as the Chapel of the Choir.

Once inside, Miriam shuffled Alan into one of three wooden stalls.

“We can’t hide here,” Alan protested as he removed his mask to get some fresh air. “Surely the guards will check these stalls before closing.”

Miriam kept her mask on, but pulled a hidden lever under a section of molding that opened a secret inner chamber and then proceeded to pull her startled friend into it.  

(Oh, you didn’t know about that hide-away? No matter. But surely you DO realize that The Vatican is filled with hidden labyrinths, right? Why there are probably more secret meeting places there than anywhere else in the world).

Ensconced in their hiding place, Alan and Miriam were able to remain on site long after the church closed. Although my Sight thankfully did not force me to endure the monotony of waiting in real-time, I was amused to catch one tidbit of their conversation – Alan coaxing Miriam to tell him the history of this secret chamber, clearly unable to believe that there was yet another piece of religious history that he was not aware of.

(It wasn’t the last time he was due to get such a surprise).


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33 – The Secret of the Lie
Book II Table of Contents

2.27 A Rose by Any Other Name

Book II: Chapter 27
July 12

My last jibe did not disappoint – and with both Alan and Miriam wfhite-faced, I went for the kill, “Lighten up, people. I know we can’t switch sides. But if Michael wants to do his thing – fine. And if you two want to stop Bates or Ma’bus or whoever he is – also fine. Just leave me out of it.” Then I clicked on the TV – hoping they would finally get the hint.

Miriam walked over, rudely snatched the remote (yes, the remote that I had just recently learned how to use!), and then turned the TV back off. “Stern discipline awaits him who leaves the path, John! You’re not listening.”

“WHAT?” I roared. “WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO KNOW?”

“Don’t you see — Michael’s offensive is a SECRET attack! I wrote about this in my letter to La Papessa. In the end, after consulting the scriptures, she marked my letter signum eternus and locked it within the most secret of the Vatican’s vaults – where it been ever since.”

“The Biblioteca Apostolica?” Alan asked. When Miriam shook her head, he wondered, “Then your letter must be in The Archives of the Apos–?”

The Vatican Archives

“Alan,” Miriam interrupted. “It’s not in any location under the control of The Apostolic Penitentiary.

“Then what other secret vault could you be referring to?”

“I’m referring to the… the… Sacra Crypta.” Miriam whispered.

The Sacra Crypta

(Bingo! That’s what I was trying to remember when Joseph was considering Cardinal Marrollo for Confuto Penitentiary – a post that would give him access to the Sacra Crypta. Damn, it’s all starting to make sense now).

Alan’s eyes narrowed, “My dear Miriam, remember who you’re talking to – you don’t seriously expect me to believe that such a warehouse has remained outside of MY knowledge for lo these many centuries?”

“I’m not sure what to say, Alan, but The Sacra Crypta does indeed exist.”

“Then where is it located?” Alan snapped, clearly embarrassed.

“Beneath the church of Santo Stefano degli Ungheresi.

“Impossible. That church was pulled down in 1776.”

“True. But what else do you know about it?”

Santo Stefano was established by Charlemagne in the 9th century.” Alan recalled. “And I was in attendance when Pope Sylvester II later granted it to King Stephen I of Hungary back around 1000. In fact, that church was a key diplomatic link between Hungary and the Vatican for centuries.”

“OK. OK.” I tried to move the story along. “What happened next, Professor?”

“Hmm.” Alan tried to remember. “I moved away from Rome again around 1100, and by then the church fell into some disrepair. In 1776 Pope Pius VI pulled down Santo Stefano and built a new sacristy for St. Peter’s.”

“If you loved it so much, why didn’t you stop this?” I teased.

“John, as you might recall, we three were tied up dealing with Weishaupt at the time. Regardless, Saint Stephen’s church was torn down – so now all that remains are its Roman columns – which I convinced Pius, by letter, to place in the new sacristy of the St. Peter’s.”

“Alan, you’re correct on all of that.” Miriam agreed. “I know how much you loved that chapel. However, you overlooked one thing.”

“Oh, what’s that?” Alan asked, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“There was a secret cellar under Santo Stefano.”

“What?!? That’s impossible.” Alan was offended. “Why, I’ve been there a thousand times, how could I never have known about it? There wasn’t any such feature in the original construction.”

“She said it was a secret.” I laughed.

Alan’s look at me was pure ice, yet it was Miriam who spoke again. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Who built this vault? Who kept you from telling us?”

“The answer to that question is one and the same.” Miriam began.

But it was I who filled in the blank, “Don’t tell me — Pope Joan?”


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28 – The Bible Code
Book II Table of Contents