“We haven’t had a chance to talk much about what it will be like to be the parents of such a…unique child.”
The bride pulled her eyes away from the groom and looked up at the priest. “I thought the Vinces wanted the baby raised in as normal an environment as possible.”
The priest smiled. “Yes, that is true, and for that reason you must never tell anyone who the child really is.”
The bride glanced at the groom and back at the priest. “They covered that when I was being interviewed, but I never really understood why.”
The priest stood, walked around his desk and sat on the corner. “Ok—a hypothetical situation—we go right to the media and tell them about the baby... or say, you tell your neighbors, parents, friends, that your little boy is the clone of Jesus Christ of Nazareth. First of all, they’re gonna’ think you’re crazy, or maybe they just might believe you. Imagine how they would then react to the child.
“Think of it this way,” the priest continued, rearranging himself on the corner of his desk, “there are roughly around—oh, let’s see—six and a half billion people in the world today. About a billion of those people are gonna’ believe your little boy is God’s own clone, and some of those folks can be pretty radical. There will be the crazy fringe bunch: those who will look upon the child as an abomination, or maybe a threat to their particular belief system. What I’m telling you now is not hypothetical. We know for a fact these people exist.”
“But, what about the baby?” the bride said. “How can we expect a little child to keep such a secret?”
“Easy, we don’t tell him.”