no one's coming
Wherefore in the name of God the All-Powerful, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, of the Blessed Peter, Prince of the Apostles, and of all saints, in virtue of the power which has been given us in binding and loosing in Heaven and on earth, we deprive N. himself and all his accomplices and all his abettors of the Communion of the Body and Blood of Our Lord, we separate him from the society of all Christians, we exclude him from the bosom of our Holy Mother, the Church in Heaven and on earth, we declare him excommunicated and anathemized and we judge him condemned to eternal fire with Satan and all his angels and all the reprobate, so long as he will not burst the fetters of the demon, do penance and satisfy the Church; we deliver him to Satan to mortify his body, that his soul may be saved on the day of judgment.
:... The Prometheus Problem ...:
The feel, the very essence, was always meant to be Konrad meets Kundera and surrenders somewhere in the process. The point is the greatness of the sacrifice, the 1:15 mark of "Dies Mercurii", how clean, how pure, an act so beautiful that you could weep from the sheer beautiful simplicity of it. So how to draw the line between Serafeim - the angel who got pushed, the one who got away and regretted it - and Prometheus the Titan, who sufferer God's wrath sans remorse to bring mankind from darkness. Serafeim has a unique conception of Prometheus, built up in Eleanore's miniature glass-doored, green-shelved library: a heartbroken Prometheus, one who screamed at the daily torment and tore his wrists and ankles to ragged, bruised ruins of flesh and bone, thin ribs straining against the chain; red-eyed, white-lipped, soaked in embryonic/amneotic sweat and terrified. A Prometheus who would weep in winter. A Prometheus who could feel regret and selfishness.
If this was Kundera's novel, how would be approach it? "If Prometheus Wept in Winter"... If Prometheus wept in winter, how fine that would be, how liberating, to know that there is no one left to admire, to worship, to awe - selfless, godless, we have at last become human enough to cry again. A novel of pure existentialism, clean-white as Mozart. The image of the Titan weeping in the cold signifies the final break from the neurosis of Christianity; there's no one left better than we, no one to worship. Prometheus is Serafeim's catch-all for a better world, a perfect world. A world without sin. In a world sans God, man is required to become Him. Serafeim believes that God exists - senile, blind and vindictive though He is - and by offering himself up, like Prometheus, for the betterment of humanity, he frees them from a world of sin, a world of faith, a world of God.
The question: what if a world without sin is only made possible by a world without God?