“The Chessboard of Heaven and Hell”
(The same dim rectory. A small TV flickers in the corner, playing a clip from Pawn Sacrifice—Bobby Fischer (Tobey Maguire) hunched over a chessboard, his eyes burning with manic intensity. Fra Jozo scoffs and shuts it off.)
Fra Jozo:
“Look at him. The world called Fischer the ‘smartest man alive’ because he could move little pieces of wood on a checkered board. A chess autist—worshipped for his madness, not his wisdom. The media crowned him a false messiah of the mind, while true wisdom was in the confessional, not in some outdated game of kings and pawns.”
Fra Slaven:
“But didn’t Fischer convert? Didn’t he seek the Church?”
Fra Jozo: (nodding gravely)
“Yes. In the end, even he saw the truth. The world had lied to him. Chess was not life. Genius was not holiness. His one good idea? ‘See a priest as much as possible.’ He understood—too late—that the real battle was not on a board, but in the soul.”
Father Peter: (leaning forward)
“Just like the Rothschilds. They think they control the game. They move nations like pawns, sacrifice entire generations for profit. But their ‘green’ messiah, their plastic Jesus—David de Rothschild—is just another false genius, another Fischer, playing a rigged match against God.”
“The Grandmaster of Sin vs. The King of Kings”
Fra Filip: (hesitant)
“But if even Fischer, the greatest chess player, fell into paranoia and rage… what hope do we have against men who own the banks, the media, the very air we breathe?”
Fra Jozo: (standing, gripping his rosary like a weapon)
“Because we do not fight on their board! The Rothschilds think in money and carbon credits—but we think in grace and sacraments. Fischer wasted his life staring at sixty-four squares. We stare at the Cross—and there, we see the true endgame.”
(A beat of silence. The sanctuary lamp flickers.)
Fra Slaven: (smirking)
“So what’s our move, then?”
Fra Jozo: (grinning fiercely)
“We flood the world with confessions. We sacrifice not pawns—but pride. We let the Devil think he’s winning… until the King of Kings checkmates him with a single breath of divine justice.”
Fra Jozo (leaning forward, voice low and grave):
“The Devil’s greatest trick was not making the world think he didn’t exist—it was making the world worship his false Christ. A plastic Jesus. A ‘green’ messiah who preaches salvation through carbon credits while his family owns the banks that enslave nations.”
Father Peter (crossing himself):
“David de Rothschild… the so-called ‘eco-savior.’ His ‘religion’ has no cross, only recycling symbols. No repentance, only ‘sustainability.’ And behind it all? The same bloodline that funds wars, controls currencies, and now disguises tyranny as ‘climate virtue.’”
Fra Slaven (frowning):
“But how do we fight bankers and politicians? They are beyond the reach of any court.”
Fra Jozo (smashing his fist on the table, making the candles flicker):
“With the weapon they fear most—confession.* The sacrament that breaks their spells. Every sin confessed weakens their grip. Every soul purified is a dagger in the heart of their New World Order.”*
“The Living Dead: Rothschild & Epstein’s Disguise”
Fra Filip (hesitant):
“But surely Jacob Rothschild is dead? The news reported—”
Fra Jozo (interrupting, eyes blazing):
“A lie! Just as Ricky Gervais joked—‘funny how these elites never really die.’ Epstein? Rothschild? They vanish, just like Radovan Karadžić did in Serbia, growing a beard, playing the wise old monk until the world forgets. Now they hide in plain sight, in Israel, in their fortified villas, laughing as the masses kneel before their false green god.”
Father Peter (nodding grimly):
“And their Antichrist is rising. David de Rothschild does not just want your money—he wants your worship. His ‘eco-religion’ replaces the Holy Trinity with ‘reduce, reuse, recycle.’ His ‘crucifixion’ is a PR stunt—sailing on a plastic boat to ‘save the oceans’ while his banks drain the lifeblood of the poor.”
“The Battle Plan: Flood the World with Grace”
Fra Jozo (standing, pointing to the crucifix on the wall):
“This is how we fight. Not with guns, not with protests—with grace. We must fill our confessionals until they overflow. Every stolen dollar, every lustful thought, every moment of despair—drag it into the light. The Rothschilds feed on sin, on despair, on division. So we starve them.”
Fra Slaven (determined):
“Then we will preach it from the pulpit. No more hiding. No more fear. The bankers think they own the future? Let us remind them—the gates of Hell will not prevail.”
Fra Filip (whispering):
“And if they come for us?”
Fra Jozo (smiling darkly):
“Then we will have already won. For if they strike us down, we will rise again—not in cloned flesh, not in plastic eco-paradises—but in the Resurrection that truly matters.”
(A sudden gust of wind extinguishes the candles. The men sit in darkness, the only light now coming from the red sanctuary lamp near the altar—the sign of Christ’s enduring presence.)
(Outside, a distant church bell tolls—like a clock counting down to the final move.)