Ranell’s Best?

“What’s wrong?” Ranell’s friend, and confessor, Monsignor Raphael Mendoza wore jeans and a polo shirt. He’d come to the chapel of Our Lady of Refuge in response to Ranell’s urgent telephone call.

“I had to get out of the office and talk to somebody, Father.” In social settings, Ranell typically addressed his friend as Monsignor. His use now of the priestly honorific was an instinctive reflex brought on by his intense sense of spiritual turmoil.

“Of course. Of course.” Mendoza’s kind face was a mask of concern. “I’ve never seen you so upset.”

Ranell tried to answer, but a sob caught in his throat. So he sat in silence while he tried to master his emotions. “I’ve lost everything,” to Ranell, it was a statement of the obvious. “It's a catastrophe."

Mendoza furrowed his bushy eyebrows and clasped his hands. “A catastrophe… let's talk about that.”

Ranell ground his teeth together, looking up at the ceiling like he was trying to find an answer, a way to explain. He groaned. "Yes and no. Father, the whole world is collapsing. The US and China are on the brink of war. GML got caught up in it. We exposed ourselves to economic danger, and now GML will pay the price. Our shareholders have abandoned us.”

“Did you do your best, Josef?”

Ranell stopped and glared at Mendoza. “What difference does that make? I’ve been working fourteen-hour days, seven days a week, for over a year. My marriage is on the rocks. My retirement will be wiped out, and healthcare gone. I've got nothing left, Father. I've lost everything, and I guess I deserve it because there are six thousand other people out there tonight who will find out they've lost everything too. My best?” Ranell cursed, and then looked apologetically at Mendoza.

I don’t care how upset you are, Ranell inwardly scolded himself. You can’t cuss like that in front of a priest. Downcast, he mumbled, “If this was my best, it sure wasn’t good enough.”

“I asked you if you did your best?” Mendoza repeated, “Did you?”

Ranell was perplexed. “I didn’t save the company. I didn’t save anybody. Yeah, I practically killed myself doing it, but I didn’t win. I tried, Father. I really tried...”

Ranell couldn't hold back any longer, and he began to sob.

Mendoza embraced him.

After a few moments passed, Mendoza suddenly pushed Ranell away by the shoulders and peered into his eyes, “Did you steal? Did you murder anyone? Did you lose your faith in God?”

Ranell was shocked by the questions. “No, no,” he stammered. “Nothing like that!”

Mendoza squinted suspiciously.

Ranell was caught in the power of Mendoza’s penetrating gaze. He had to defend his actions. “There was a man, a spy. His name was Hétóng Rén. He wanted me to give the Chinese information about our airships. But I turned him down.”

“Why?” Demanded Mendoza.

Ranell thought about the question. I could never betray my country. He finally answered, “I would’ve been making a deal with the devil.”

Mendoza released his vice-like hold on Ranell's shoulders and nodded sagely. “That may be more true than you will ever know, my son. I know you are worried about your company, and your country, but these things come and go. The real battle, the eternal struggle, is what I am trying to show you now.”

“Are you saying I passed some sort of test?” Ranell asked.

“You faced temptation and rejected it.” Mendoza beamed. “Yes. You could say you passed the test.”

“How can you know that?” Ranell's words trailed off, but he no longer fought to fix everything. He was beginning to accept the facts being presented to him.