Back Again

Please note a new email address: danw@nc.rr.com.

Chapter 3 -

The summer passed and even though nothing like the situation at Greenwood Village developed, the day to day operations of two churches kept Father Danny and Pastor Davy occupied. The two did try inviting each other to give a Sunday sermon at the other’s church. To put it mildly, the casual agreement between the two best friends was a disaster. They discussed it that night on the front porch.
“It was my fault, you had no reason to know. Three minutes after I began my sermon today, I looked into the faces of the people in your congregation and remembered something my step-father told me years ago. Something I had honestly forgotten.”
“What did he tell you?” asked Father Danny.
“He told me that if I was going to give a good Baptist Sermon, it would have to be a Baptist sermon, it couldn’t be a sermon like you would give in a Catholic church or a Lutheran or Episcopal church. It had to be a Baptist sermon.”
“Today was a disaster. Most of your people avoided shaking my hand and went out that side door. The few who did come out the back smiled and shook my hand with the enthusiasm of a wet rag. You want to tell me why that was?”
“All I can tell you is what my step-father told me.”
“You just did and it makes absolutely no sense. Give a Baptist sermon. What the hell is a Baptist sermon. I thought a sermon was a sermon.”
“No, it’s not and I should have thought about it and told you long before today. Again, I am sorry.”
“Quit apologizing and tell me what your step-father said.”
“Okay, when a Catholic, a Lutheran, an Episcopalian, any of the Roman based church members walk into their church, they bring with them two thousand years, more or less, of church history. That history is a part of what they are. Their mass is a celebration of that history. The Apostle’s Creed, the Nicene Creed, all those things from that history, the entire function is a celebration of that history and honestly, little more. But, it is enough. They are reminded that they are a part of something that began with Jesus Christ. That is enough. It lifts them, it gives them what they need.”
“Okay, that makes sense.”
“For them, the Catholic, the Lutheran and the Episcopalian, the Bible is a part of that history, it is a part of that service, but only a part, and not really a major part. It is read, something from it may be mentioned, but it is still only a part, a portion.”
“Okay, I’m still with you.”
“For you, what would you say was the high spot of the service.”
“I guess if I had to pick a part, would say communion.”
“And you would be right. But for the Baptist it is the sermon. All the prayers, all the hymns, everything that is said or done, leads up to the sermon. To put it in a rather vernacular way, the Episcopalians get their buzz from the communion. That’s been built in for two millennia. The Baptist doesn’t have anything built-in. If the people get that buzz, it has to be from an inspiring sermon from the preacher. It has to lift, it has to move, it has to inspire. If your people can’t remember your sermon when they get to the back door, so what? They’re not there for the sermon. The sermon is no more than one of the hymns. For the Baptist, the sermon is his reason for coming. It’s the sermon that inspires him. It’s the sermon that makes him want to be one with the Lord. The Episcopalian can pop a communion host in his mouth and that, mixed with all that history and he is one with the Lord. The Baptist doesn’t have that history. For a Baptist, the Bible is the beginning and the end of the entire religion. It is the entire crux of their service.”
It’s doubtful that one in a hundred could tell you anything about the history of the Baptist church. They could probably tell you the history of their church building, but the Baptist church, they don’t have a clue, but why should they? It’s unimportant. They come for the Bible and the sermon.”
“Oh yes, it would have been nice if you had told me all this beforehand. Five minutes into my sermon, the ones who weren’t yawning were asleep.”
“My people were asleep and your people were looking at me like I was a wild man. I did the normal. I screamed two or three times, paced back and forth and threw my hands up into the air.”
“I know, I already heard.”
‘They told you?”
“Oh yes. But you knew better. You were raised on Catholic sermons.”
“Yea, but I’m going to ask you a question. You’ve seen good black Baptist preachers preaching. You know with the rocking back and forth and talking at the top of their voices?”
“Yes.”
“Who do you think is having more fun when he’s preaching, him or the Pope?”

Today's Treat

Hope to be back Monday


“You know this is probably going to get the reporter a Pulitzer don’t you? Have you picked out a reporter?”
“Not really,” said Davy, “I was thinking of something else. If we talk to a reporter, he or she is going to know who we are, do we want that?”
“No.”
“If you will remember in the Shawshank Redemption, after Andy DeFrane escaped, he sent the warden’s records to the newspaper and he let them take it from there,” said Davy with a sheepish grin.
“My Baptist Amigo, I loved that movie and I love your idea. We send the disk and the trash bag to the TV station and let them take it from there. It is nothing short of brilliant!”
Before dawn the next morning Father Danny heard the door to his room open and saw the light come on. “I know who it is and if you’re not ready to meet your–“
”Shut up and look.” Danny felt something land on his chest. He opened his eye, it was a newspaper. The headline read “THEFT AND EXTORTION EXPOSED IN EAST SIDE”.
“I thought you were going to send it to the TV station.”
“I did, it’s been on the news all night.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Because you get so bitchy, now read it.”
Evidence of large-scale extortion has surfaced on the east side of our city. Numerous senior citizens have been victimized by gang members who regularly stole their Social Security checks. In an all night roundup, members of a gang known as the “Aces”...
“I didn’t know they called themselves the Aces.”
“Neither did I, read on.”
  ... have been placed under arrest and now face Federal indictment for numerous offenses including theft of federal funds, money laundering and racketeering. The case has been placed into the hands of the United States Attorney General.
Evidence leading to the arrests was turned over to Ray Potter of television station WTPG who claims to have no knowledge of it’s source. Inside a bag of evidence given to Potter was a complete list of the gang members, their bank accounts and other information. Judge Preston Ward refused bail and an early conviction is expected.
“You know this is unbelievable.”
“Oh yes, I doubt we’ll ever top this one.”
“But you know something,” said Danny, “there was something just as rewarding that day you brought that family back together.”
“The Hanks?”
“Yea.”
“I wonder how they’re doing.”
“You’ll know Sunday.”
“Sunday?”
“I haven’t told you, but they’ve been to church every Sunday since you talked to them and last Sunday they asked me if there was something they could give you to show their thanks, love and appreciation. I couldn’t think of a thing, then it occurred to me, something you would like is for them to come to your church. They’ll be there this Sunday morning.”
“That is nice.”
“Yes, it’s nice, but it worries me.”
“Why would it worry you?”
“Because you’re a better preacher than me.”
“Ah, maybe so, but you have a thousand years of tradition to fall back on. I only have a couple of hundred. I need theatrics more than you do.”
Danny patted Davy on the back and said, “That, my friend, is probably true too.”

Into Danger

When they entered the gang’ hangout every eye was on them. One of the gang members looked up from his pool game. “What you need, Padre?” he asked.
“Just wanted to visit, fella’s. We’ve been meaning to stop in for a while. How are you doing and what’s your name?”
The man looked around at the others and smiled. “My name is Juan, Padre. How are you today?”
“I am doing well, Juan. It’s good to meet you. Who are these other fella’s?”
Juan was grinning. He couldn’t believe the priest was actually in their place. “What do you want, Padre.”
“I want you and your friends to come to church, Juan. I believe you might enjoy it.”
Juan took another shot and sank the eight ball. “Yea, we’ll do that real soon, Padre, right now this is a very important game if you’ll excuse us.”
“You want to play me?” asked Davy.
“What does a priest know about playing pool?”
“Enough to whip your tail,” smiled Davy.
“Priest, you crazy.”
“You want to make a bet?”
“What kind of bet?”
“I win, you all come to church this Sunday.”
“What if I win, Padre?”
“If you win you get ten dollars.”
“Ten dollars, I don’t chalk up my cue for ten dollars.”
“Oh, you’re afraid I’ll beat you huh?”
Juan looked around the room trading smiles with all the gang members.
“While you two play, I gotta’ go to the pot,” said Danny.
Juan motioned to the back of the building.
Davy and Juan began their game and Danny went to the back of the building. There was nothing in the back but some car parts. On his way back he stepped outside. There were some boxes beside the trash cans but nothing looked fresh. He came back into the room and when Davy looked up he gave a quick nod no. Davy miscued his next shot and Juan ran the rest of the balls from the table.
“That’s the game Padre, that’ll be ten dollars. You want to win your money back?”
“No, you’re too good for me. I know when I’m beat.”
Juan grinned at the others. “Well, Padre, why don’t you and your friend come back when you have another ten dollars?”
“I may just take you up on that, Juan. It was good meeting you. It was good meeting you all.”
The two of them returned to the car. “The place is clean, I didn’t see anything. I even went out back... nothing.”
Just ride around the neighborhood, somehow I feel like we’re close,” said Danny.
“Me too, but where?
Davy looked at Danny. He had a pensive look on his face. “What are you thinking about?”
“Something Mr. Watson said the first time we visited. He said that the gang cashing their checks was just like a grocery store. There was no difference.”
“Right, that’s what he said.”
“Have you seen any grocery stores around here?” asked Danny.
“What company is going to put a million dollar business in this neighborhood?”
“Ahh, my preacher friend, you’re thinking like middle America, when I say grocery store you’re thinking supermarket, but in a neighborhood like this, a grocery store is like that place over there.” Danny pointed to a small block building across the street with ‘International Market’ scrawled over the door. Now, we’re what, less than a block from the banger’s hangout and a store about the size of a Chevy with a name like International Market just happened to be here–“
”And no bank is going to question a deposit from an impressive name like the International Market–“
”And the third of the month, one would expect a big place like the International Market to cash a bunch of Social Security and Welfare checks–“
”I’m on it,” said Davy as he twisted the wheel toward the International Market.
As he pulled in front, Danny said, “Just circle the place. I swear I’m getting a chill.”
As they pulled around back Davy grinned and said, “The Lord does work in mysterious ways.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Over there, leaning against the trash can, that bag.”
“That brown bag? What about it?”
“Time to get the old spectacles examined my good friend. That is a clear plastic bag and that brown color you see is from a bunch of envelopes that I believe will say ‘United States Treasury’. Pull up to it.”
“No, wait a minute," said Davy, "you’re the camera nut. Don’t you believe Spielberg would be impressed with a nice panoramic picture of the International Market and a soft drift up to the trash bag?”
“I believe that would be one brilliant move of cinematography, absolutely brilliant.”
Davy circled the International Market and slowly drove to the trash cans and plastic bag. Danny was filming the entire time. Danny hopped out of the car and pause a second looking at the bag. He threw the bag into the back seat and got in. “One of us is living right.”
“What do you mean?”
“You saw that other trash in the bag, you know what it is?”
“I imagine trash.”
“Oh no, mixed in with our Treasury envelopes are bank statements, bank statements from the International Market. These people are so ballsey they didn’t even tear them up. We have enough evidence here for a good hanging! I am not believing this.”
“I wonder if Deep Throat ever felt this good?”

Thursday Lunch Day

This story is moving nicely... hope you like it!



Two days later, the two of them parked and waited at the entrance to Greenwood Village. At four minutes before ten, a car pulled up in font of the first house and parked and another car parked a half a block down. A few minutes later, a red, white and blue mail truck stopped in front of the mail boxes at the first complex, inserted his mail in the individual boxes, then moved off. Father Danny’s camera was rolling the entire time. Five minutes later, a man got out of the first can, walked across the street, sat on a bench at the bus stop, lit a cigarette and waited. After he finished his cigarette the man stepped in front of the mailbox like he was going to check his mail and went down the row of boxes deftly removing the brown Social Security envelopes.
“Are you getting this,” asked Davy.
“Every single motion,” smiled Danny.
The man returned to his car and moved two blocks up. As he parked in his new location, Pastor Davy moved his car a half block up. Just as he parked, the second man calmly went to the corner, smoked a cigarette, then stripped the mailboxes of every brown envelope in a casual, unconcerned move. If either man saw the two pastors, they paid him no mind. Twenty minutes after the mailman departed from Greenwood Village, every brown Social Security envelope delivered that morning was in one of the cars on its way from the complex and from its true owner.
“It’s over,” said Davy. “Did you get it?”
Danny held his camera out to the side and bowed in the front seat. “I wish to thank the members of the Academy, the actors and everyone else who made this minute possible.”
“Fantastic!” shouted Davy.
As they rode along, Davy noticed that Danny kept replaying the disk. He would play the disk, rewind it and play it again.”
“You’re going to wear that thing out before we even get a chance to use it.”
“No, it’s not right.”
“What do you mean it’s not right?”
“Exactly what I said, it’s not right.”
“Why, it shows every detail, you even have closeups of the guy’s faces and some of the house numbers. I think you did a great job.”
“Oh yea, the video is fine, it’s first class, but it’s not enough.”
 “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? Those guys are going to have an attorney. And, that attorney is going to clean ‘em up and have them looking better than anybody in either one of our choirs.”
“Okay.”
“Your honor, there has been a terrible mistake. These lads weren’t taking anyone’s Social Security checks. My goodness, that is ridiculous. The boys had sent out invitations to the folks in the neighborhood to come to an ice cream party and when their mamas discovered the party was scheduled at the same time as their Bible study, they told the lads they had to get those invitations back and schedule the part another day. Those boys didn’t know they weren’t supposed to take the invitations out of the mailboxes. They were just doing like their mamas told them to do. They know now that was wrong and they feel real bad about it. But the boys were purely innocent, Your Honor. They were just doing as their mamas told them.”
Davy pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car. “What can we do?”
“I’m right, and you know it.”
“Oh yes, you’re definitely right, so what do we do?”
“We need those envelopes. We need to prove those bangers knew what they were stealing.”
“The federal offense won’t stand up?”
“Nope, how many times have you gone over the speed limit rushing to someone’s aid? You broke the law, but if a cop had of stopped you, after you explained it what would he have done?”
“You’re right, he would wave me on.”
“Right. There’s laws then there are laws... even for the gangs.”
Still, what do we do?”
“My suggestion is the hospital.”
“The hospital?”
“Mr. Watson.”


“Mr. Watson, we have evidence of what you were telling us. The gang members were going from mailbox to mailbox pulling out Social Security checks like they were picking cherries. But we have a problem.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Why did you watch them?”
“We wanted to see what you had told us.”
“They will know who told you. They will kill me.”
“We promised you we wouldn’t tell, and we haven’t.”
“Then what good is it? What does it matter if you saw them taking our checks? What good is it if you don’t tell somebody?”
“We promised you we wouldn’t tell who told, which we won’t, but we didn’t promise you that nothing would be done. Something is going to be done, that too I promise you.”
The old man looked at the two ministers. “You two are preachers, why would a preacher want to get involved in this mess? Preachers don’t get involved in this kind of thing.”
“I’ve got two answers for you, Mr. Watson,” said Davy. “Maybe they should get involved and, we do get involved.”
The old man looked Davy in the eye then Danny. “What do you need to know?”
“These gang members,” asked Danny, “Where do they hang out?”
At first Watson was silent. He appeared to be thinking. Then he said, “There’s a dump of a building toward the end of Third Street. They hang out there. You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Watson.”
Watson began to speak, but stopped.
“I know,” said Danny, “we didn’t hear it from you.”
The old man smiled and nodded.


“Okay, stop by Mrs. Peele’s next.”
“Why, did you forget something?”
“Sort of. Just stop in front and I’ll run in. I won’t be a minute.”
They stopped at Mrs. Peele’s and Danny ran inside. He came out opened the door and threw something into Danny’s lap.
“A Roman collar, you want me to wear a Roman collar?”
“Around here, most of the gangs have a strong Latin influence. Latin influence means what? Catholic church. I don’t think that crowd is going to be too intimidated by an Episcopal priest and some Baptist wearing street clothes ain’t gonna’ cut it.”
“I take for granted we’re headed to the gang’s hangout.”
“You got any other plans?”

A Lovely Color Combination Indeed

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It Is Beautiful Outside

Good Morning All! Accomplish something today.
Let's go:



The next morning Davy was already at the hospital when Danny arrived. “Good morning, I got Willie Watson’s room number and he’ll be coming out of x-ray any time.”
“What’s wrong with hiim?”
“Somebody beat the hell out of him. That’s really all I know. You know how these hospitals are, they’re terrified of law suits. You want to go on up?”
The two walked into the room just as the orderly was leaving. Inside was an elderly black gentleman laying in the bed. His face was wrapped in bandages and he had a cast on his arm.
“Mr. Watson, I’m Pastor David Tate from Meredith Baptist Church. One of your neighbors suggested we drop by and see you.”
“Who?”
“Ahh, I can’t say we got the gentleman’s name, but he lives in your Complex and–“
”A lot of people live in that complex. But since you’re here anyway, come on in if you’ve a mind to. You will understand if I don’t get up.”
“Yes sir, that’s perfectly alright.”
Davy and Danny came in and sat beside the bed.
The old man turned his head toward the two. “If you here to do prayifying, go ahead and do it. I done all my praying and I still ain’t gonna’ ever be the same, but if you a mind to, go ahead.”
“Actually, Mr. Watson, we wanted to ask you something. The gentleman we were speaking with said that a lot of your neighbors’s electricity had been cut off because they hadn’t paid their bills. But, he wouldn’t say anything else.”
They could hear the old man laugh. “Ain’t sayin’ nothin’ ‘cause they scared.”
“Scared of what, Mr. Watson?”
“Damn gang-bangers.”
“Gang-bangers? And you’re not scared of them?”
“Hell no, damn punks. ‘Course I’d be a sight better off if I had been scared. I wouldn’t be stove up in this place, damn tubes running in and out of me. Can’t even go to the bathroom without help.”
 “Gang-bangers do this to you?”

“Damn right they did. ‘Course they warned me. Told me to keep my mouth shut. I didn’t, and here I am. Ain’t right, man seventy years old get beat up by them punks. Just ain’t right.”
“They beat you up because. . .”
“They beat me up ‘cause I told the police. Next thing I know there’s three of them punks waitin’ for me when I got off the bus. Beat the hell outta’ me.”
“What did you tell the police, Mr. Watson?”
“I told them the truth. Most of the folks in the projects get Social Security an’ fast as them checks come in, them gang-bangers taking them checks from the mailbox.”
“They’re stealing your Social Security checks?”
“Oh no suh, they give us some money back. They only take half, ain’t that right kindly of them?”
“I don’t understand, Mr. Watson.”
“No an’ I don’t guess you do. If I tell you, they probably gonna’ come back and finish me off, but it don’t matter. This ain’t no way to live anyhow.”
“We won’t tell a soul you talked to us, Mr. Watson.”
“Don’t make no neverminds if you do, this ain’t no way to live.”
The old man paused a few seconds saying nothing. When he began, his voice was weak, but they could understand.
“Them gang-bangers smart. They come to us and tell us that takin’ our check would break some kind of law.”
“Federal law,” thought Davy out loud.
“Maybe so, but they tell us that cashin’ our checks is perfectly legal jus’ like at the grocery store and ain’t nobody can say anything or gonna’ do anything ‘cause all they doin’ is cashin’ our checks.”
“Why don’t you just keep your checks?”
“A whole lot easier said than done. The third of every month five minutes after the mailman puts our check in the mailbox there’s a gang-banger comin’ right behind him takin’ it out.”
“Can’t you just meet the mailman and let him hand it to you?”
“Oh yea, you can do that an’ as soon as he sees the check’s not in the mailbox he breaks open the door an’ takes the check anyhow.”
“Can’t you get your money direct deposited, right into the bank?”
“Preacher, how many of them people you think got bank accounts? We live in the projects, not Park Avenue. How we gonna’ get back and forth to a bank and even if we do, banks charge for accounts. Ten bucks a month may not seem like much to you, but to us it’s a hell of a lot to us.”
“Maybe so, but it sounds a whole lot better than giving them half your money.”
Once more they heard the old man laugh. “Preacher, you funny and you live in a whole ‘nother world. Ain’t no games we can play. It don’t matter what we do, if we hide the checks, they jus’ break in and steal our money from us. It’s better we jus’ play their game.”
“You said they keep half. When do you get the half they let you keep?”
“They kind of organized. If your check comes on the third, they come that night, give you your half and a reminder to keep your damn mouth shut. It’s the same every month. They so smart, even if you get your check on a Wednesday instead of the third of the month. The night your check comes, they come a callin’. Ain’t no way to beat ‘em. If you try. . . look at what happened to me.”
“Thank you for telling us, Mr. Watson and I promise you we won’t tell anybody.”
“Like I said, it don’t matter. I’d be just as well of dead anyway.”
When they left Watson’s room, they went to the coffee shop.
“What do you want to do?” asked Davy.
“What do you mean what do I want to do?”
“We found a problem, I think we need to handle it.”
“Hold on, Rambo. What do we know about gangs?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Right, and this isn’t little Jimmy Spencer on the playground, these are bad guys with knives and guns and stuff.”
“Are we going to do something?”
“Of course we are. That was a stupid question.”
“Do you have any idea what?”
“For now, that was even a stupider question than your first one. I don’t have the foggiest idea.”

A New Week - A New Chapter

If I'm throwing too much at you two let me know. I try to do a thousand words a day on this project but I have been doing more because this thing is almost writing itself. Have a good day:



Chapter 2 -

For the next few weeks the two settled into the daily duties of running their churches. Summer was coming and with it the normal rash of weddings. For Father Danny, there seemed to be quite a few funerals.
They continued to enjoy their after dinner chats on the front porch and Mrs. Peele continued to wonder what kind of theology could be entertaining enough to keep two grown men in laughter. Their day to day tasks seemed to meld into business as usual until one evening on the porch.
Since it was warm, but the summer heat had yet to make it hot enough to be uncomfortable, after supper several people came out and rocked in the white oak chairs. One particular evening, Preacher Danny seemed to be a bit impatient for the others to leave and when the last resident turned-in for the night he said, “Thank God, I thought they would never leave.”
“Why? What’s up,” asked Father Danny.
“Remember how we used to find a problem in school and handle it?”
“Yes, we talked about picking up where we left off, or have you forgotten?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten and we may have something in the fire.”
“What do you mean?”
“A woman in my church came in today and said she had a problem.”
“Okay.”
“She said she visited her mother this weekend and noticed she was twitching. She knew her mother was taking medication for the twitching and asked her if she was taking her pills. Her mother didn’t answer her. Later, she slipped into the kitchen to get a drink of water and looked into the refrigerator. All that was in the refrigerator was some half-eaten cans of dog food.”
“Dog food?”
“Yes, and the woman’s mother doesn’t own a dog.”
“She went into the medicine cabinet and her mother hadn’t refilled her prescriptions for months, any of them.”
“Is her mother alright, I mean like Alzheimer’s or anything like that?” asked Father Danny.
“I asked the same thing. The woman said her mother’s mind was clear as a bell. She knows her mother gets enough Social Security every month to take care of her basic needs, but she’s not taking are of her basic needs. She asked her what was going on, but her mother refused to say anything. She wants me to talk to her”
“When do you want to go?”
“We can go any time. Right now would be okay. The lady lives in public housing and I would imagine she would still be up.”
“Let’s go,” said Danny.
They had no trouble finding the complex or the street. They drove slowly down the street looking for the apartment number.
“There’s the apartment,” said Danny, “but it looks like we’re too late. The lights are off. I’ll bet she's already gone to bed.”
“Yea, it might be better–“
”What is it?” asked Danny.
“There’s a flicker in the apartment. The woman is using candles.”
Then Danny looked around the complex. “What time is it?”
“Quarter to eight, why?”
“Look around here. There’s what, fifteen or twenty apartments and the lights are on in only a couple of them. I would think at least half of them. . . no, I would think most of them would be watching TV or reading a book or something. The whole complex wouldn't  be in bed before eight, would they?”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“Park and let’s walk back to her apartment. This doesn’t make sense.”
The two got out and began walking down the sidewalk in front of the building. They could see the flicker of candles through the blinds in several of the apartments and most of the apartments were dark. They found the lady’s apartment and knocked on the door. They heard a woman’s voice inside asking know who it was?”
“Pastor Dave Tate from Meredith Baptist Church, Mrs. Lane.”
A voice came through the door, “I already gave, go away.”
“No, Mrs. Lane, your daughter asked me to come by and see you.” There was no sound for a moment, then the door slowly opened and a frail looking woman peered out. “Emily asked you to come by.”
“Yes ma’am. She thought we could have a nice visit.”
“Who is that other man?” she asked.
“I’m just Pastor Tate’s assistant, Mrs. Lane, can we come in?”
“I guess it’ll be okay,” she said as she pulled open the door. “I’m not really prepared to see company.”
“No ma’am, I’m sure you’re not and we won’t stay but a minute. We just wanted to come by and say hello and see how you’re doing.”
“Come in, I’m sorry it’s so dark, I’m having trouble with my lights.”
“Yes ma’am, it appears several of your neighbors are too.”
“I guess so,” she said, “I wouldn't know.”
“Your daughter seems to think you might not be eating like you should and maybe not taking your medicine as often as maybe you need to.”
“My daughter should learn to mind her own business. I'm fine.”
“Okay, I’m sure you are, Mrs. Lane, but you can’t blame her for being concerned.”
“My daughter’s a busybody. She needs to mind her own business.”
“Sure, Mrs. Lane, I understand what you’re saying.”
“Good, is there anything else? If not, you’re welcome to leave.”
“Yes ma’am, we will be on our way and is there anything we can do for you while we’re here?”
Mrs. Lane shook her head and pulled open the door. The two stepped outside and before they could bid the lady good night, she pushed the door closed and they could hear the sound of a lock snapping closed behind them.
“Okay,” said Davy, “She’s hiding something.”
“Oh definitely, but what?”
As they walked back to the car they saw the flash of a match. An elderly black man sitting on his front stoop as lighting a cigarette. They stepped toward him. “Good evening, how are you doing?”
“Passable, passable.”
“I’m Pastor Tate from Meredith Baptist Church, and this is Fa. . . my assistant Preacher West. We’re just in the neighborhood.”
“Good to meet you,” said the man as he puffed on his cigarette.
“Yea, Mrs. Lane says you folks having problems with the lights.”
“Yea, if that’s what you want to call it.”
“What would you call it?”
“I ain’t to bright, Preacher, but I’d call it not paying the bill.”
“Oh, is that right? I figure most of you get Social Security and I know it’s not much, but I would think–“
”Yea, you would think, wouldn't you.” The man looked around. “Look, I’ve said enough, tell you what. Don’t you preachers visit at the hospital?”
“Yes we do, I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“Good, why don’t you visit a fella named Willie Watson. You might enjoy talking to him.”
“If you want me to, I’ll be glad to stop by and see Mr. Watson while I’m there. But, I was just wondering why so many of the lights–“
”Willie Watson, he’s in the hospital,” said the man curtly as he stood, flipped his cigarette into the yard, went inside and closed the door.”
“What time you want to go to the hospital” asked Danny.
“Eight o’clock works for me.”
“Eight o’clock it is.”

And Moving On

   I debated on whether to send out this on a Sunday. After all, you two will be laboring today, so you might enjoy a break! 

   Here we go:

That night after supper, the two met on the front porch.

“You did good this morning, Davy. Like I told you, I was impressed.”

“Like I told you, I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“You got a dating life going? You said you’d been back a couple of months.”

“No, not really, there is a girl in the congregation that’s really nice, but I don’t feel right about asking her out.”

“Because she’s in your congregation?”

“Right. If I approach her and she’s not interested, what kind of signals would that send?”

“You’re right. Now, if she starts coming on to you, that might be a different thing.”

“I don’t know. That will be one bridge that I will cross when if it ever happens. There was a girl in the seminary, but she had one thing on her mind, she wanted to be a priest. Nothing else mattered. I pulled every trick I could think of to get her to notice me. . . nothing worked.” Davy began laughing.

“It’s not funny,” said Danny.

“I’m not laughing at you, Turkey. I was thinking of when you tried to get Peggy Allen’s attention back in school. You tried everything from carrying her lunch tray to falling down in front of her. You couldn’t get here to notice you no matter how hard you tried.”

“Oh yes, Peggy Allen. Every raging teenage hormone I had led to that girl. And she was always nice. Like you said, I tried carrying her lunch tray. Where did she lead me? To a table with her girlfriends and there was one vacant seat, which she took.”

“I remember that.”

“But we did double date to that movie.”

“Oh yea, the movie. I sat there trying to figure out how to put my arm around that girl, and when I did it, she stood up. She stood up and got out of her seat.”

“Of course she did. The movie was over. You spent the whole movie trying to build up the nerve to put your arm around her, and when you did, the movie was over. Oh, I remember that.”

The two were howling with laughter as Mrs. Peele opened the door and looked their way. They saw her looking and Danny’s face became straight as he said, “Theology.”

Davy wiped the smile off his face and repeated. “Yes, theology.”

The woman nodded and slipped back inside at which point the laughter resumed.

“Do you know who the last person I talked about my love life was?” asked Danny.

“Probably me,” smiled Davy.

Danny’s smile ended. “That’s right.”

Davy quit smiling.

Danny said, “In all these years, I never had a friend I trusted enough to talk about my sex life. Not after you.”

Davy began to smile.

“What,” said Danny.

“If I remember right, neither one of us had what you could call a ‘sex life’ except for you and what was her name. . . Barbara Finnerty. Yea, Barbara Finnerty.”

“You had to remember that. I wanted nothing–“

”Don’t give me that. Barbara Finnerty had you in the bushes behind the convent. If Sister Mary Margaret hadn’t have come out, God only knows what Barbara would have done to you.”

“Yea, that was the one time in my life I was glad to see the penguin.”

For the next several days the two were involved in their work and often missed their meals at Mrs. Peele’s. They did catch an occasional few minutes of conversation on the front porch, but the rigors of their duties as pastors of their congregations was increasing.

The following Sunday, Danny was beginning his eight o’clock mass and noticed the lay reader wasn’t present. It was not unusual for someone to oversleep on Sunday morning, and when it happened, Father Danny would simply do the scripture reading himself. Most people in the congregation never even noticed.

This Sunday, as the good father began his mass he heard a bumping noise behind the altar in a room where people put on their vestments for the mass. It was a good sound because it meant the lay reader was there and had just been running a few minutes late. Yet, when it was time for the lay reader to begin reading the scriptures, he hadn’t come out. Danny assumed he had been mistaken about the noise behind the altar and reached for his Bible. Just as he began flipping to the assigned page, a door beside the altar opened and a man walked out wearing the black and white vestments of a lay reader. It was David Tate, Pastor David Tate, Baptist Pastor David Tate, who without a single wasted motion, stepped to the lay reader’s place at the front and began reading. Danny had to turn his head to keep from laughing. He knew that if he laughed, Davy would laugh and the entire solemnity of the service would be over. At the conclusion of his reading, Davy closed his Bible and stepped to the seat behind him where he sat, crossed his legs, and placed his hands in his lap looking at Father Danny as to say, “It’s your turn.”

Danny shook his head and said to the congregation, “Ladies and gentlemen, I know some of you are not familiar with our lay reader today, but I would like to introduce him. “This is David Tate, Reverend David Tate pastor of Meredith Baptist church just down the street. And, if I look surprised, it is because I am. Davy and I are childhood friends and I really didn’t expect to see him here this morning, and I especially didn’t expect him to be a part of our service. I would like you to welcome Pastor Tate.”

At that point, Davy stood. “Thank you, Father West. I wanted to surprise you this morning and am delighted to see that I did. Also, for a couple of you I saw turning through your Bibles looking for the this morning’s reading, it's not there. I was reading from the first book of the Maccabees which is in the Catholic Bible, but doesn’t appear in the Protestant Bible. I figured it would be very suiting for your pastor if a Baptist Preacher read a Catholic Bible to the congregation in an Episcopal church. To my knowledge it has never happened before and will, more than likely, never happen again.” Davy turned, took his seat and once more assumed his ‘it’s your turn position’. 

On the porch, “You got me this morning. I was not expecting. . . “

”I know. A couple of ideas went though my head. I was going to come in, kneel at the altar and start giving Latin responses to your mass.”

“We didn’t learn the Latin responses.”

“I know, darn it.”

“Then, I had a brainstorm. I was going to come in carrying a Jewish Torah, and do the lay reading from it. But, there was a couple of problems.”

“Problems?”

“Oh yes, first thing, I can’t read or speak Hebrew.”

“And.”

“Did you know the Torahs in the Jewish Synagogues cost about twenty-five grand each.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Oh no. Rabbi Stillpass said he’d loan me his, but he wanted twenty-five thousand cash to guarantee its safety.”

“That’s why no Torah. It’s probably why you never heard of a Gideon Torah. Can you imagine twenty-five thousand in every room in every motel in America?”

Once more the two roared with laughter and once more Mrs. Peele stepped out onto the porch. “Let me guess, theology.”

“Yes ma’am, theology,” said Davy.

“I need to make a change,” she said.

“Make a change, Mrs. Peele?”

“Yes, I’m a Presbyterian and I don’t ever remember ever seeing any Presbyterians enjoying their theology as much as you two. I’m going to start going to one of your churches, maybe both.”

Davy’s face became somber. “If it is in God’s plan it will happen, Mrs. Peele.”

As soon as the door closed Danny looked at Davy. “Predestination?” he asked.

“Predestination,” grinned Davy. Immediately, their laughter resumed.

The two totally enjoyed their after work time on the front porch and caught themselves rearranging their schedules to make sure there was time of the sessions, but one Wednesday evening, Father Danny appeared down. “What’s wrong with you tonight. I thought you Episcopalians were always happy.”

Danny gave a less than enthusiastic smile. “That’s just P.R. Besides, most of the time we have a drink or two to perpetuate the illusion.”

“No, seriously, what’s wrong?”

“I have a problem I don’t know how to handle.”

“What kind of a problem?”

“Parishioner kid’s parents are splitting and she’s taking it really hard.”

“When are you going to talk to her?” 

“The girl and her parents are coming to my office tomorrow.”

“When?” 

“At two-thirty, why?”

“I’ll be there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did your parents ever divorce?”

“No, but–“

”Mine did.”

“Did you ever feel your world coming apart because of a divorce?”

“No.”

“I did.”

“I know and I appreciate it but–“

”But what? Don’t you remember how we used to laugh at Father Crane and him giving advice about marriage. It was a joke. The man had never been married. How could he advise someone, anyone, about marriage.”

“You’re right, and when the penguin caught Barbara Finerty and me, she spent a half hour lecturing me on the dangers and responsibility of relationships with virtuous young ladies. It was a laugh. What did Sister Mary Margaret know about relationships, much less dangers and responsibilities? At the time, I wondered which Bible tract she got here information from and Barbara Finnerty. . . a virtuous young lady? Give me a break.”

“Okay then, you get my point. You know nothing about divorce. I do. I’ll be there at two-thirty.”

The next day at two-thirty, four people walked into Father Danny’s office. The parents and their daughter introduced themselves and sat down. Then, Danny introduced Pastor Davy as someone with experience in the matter who had asked to help.

“I don’t think there’s much anyone can do,” said the girl’s father. “Her mother and I have just reached a point where life together is impossible.”

The mother immediately began. “My husband is right. I cannot put up with his ways any longer. The marriage was a mistake, a mistake we need to correct.”

Father Danny looked at Davy. “Folks, thank you for being here. I really do appreciate it, but we’re not here about you we’re here about your daughter. You two have failed. You have blown it out of the water. It’s too late for you, but it may not be too late for your daughter. Pardon my French, but I don’t give a tinker’s damn about you. Like Mrs. Hanks said. It was a mistake. Now, I don’t know if your marriage was a mistake or this divorce will be a mistake, but either way, at then end of the day, a mistake will have been made and your daughter will be paying the price.”

Four people’s eyes were wide open staring at the young minister virtually in shock. “Is divorce a sin? I don’t know. It says so in the Bible, but there was no one sitting at God’s feet taking notes when the Bible was written. The Bible was written by men. Was it divinely inspired? We hope so, but if it was or it wasn’t really doesn’t matter. If this divorce you two are so set on is a sin, you two will be the ones paying the price on judgement day, not you’re daughter. Her Hell has already started. You may get off scot free. Divorce may not be a sin and God may not care, but what he will care about is what you two are doing to your child. . . Your Child, a child you made in a time of love, but are now destroying in a time of hate.”

If it was possible, the four people’s eyes were open even wider. Davy looked at the daughter. “Amy, I’m sorry you’re having to go through this, but you father doesn’t  love your mother and neither one of them love you.”

The two parents immediately popped from their chairs, “Wait just a damn minute,” said the man. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but you’re not going to stand there and tell me I don’t love my wife and child. They are my life and I don’t appreciate–“

”Oh, gosh,” said Davy. “I just assumed you didn’t love them.”

“You assumed wrong. My wife just thinks I work to much, not that I don’t love her. And to say I don’t love my child. That is ridiculous.”

“Oh, my mistake,” said Davy.

“Damn right it was,” said the man as he sat down. The wife also returned to her seat.

“That’s a nice dress you’re wearing, Mrs. Hanks.”

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“You live in a nice house?”

“Yes, very nice, thank you.”

“Are you a good cook? A good housekeeper?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Where are you going with this?”

“Just making some observations. You may or may not be familiar with a man named Lou Holtz. Holtz was a big name football coach. He made a lot of money. And one day his wife asked him to try and spend more time at home, cut down on his working hours. He didn’t immediately respond, but that Sunday after church, they went riding around and he drove to the worst neighborhood in their town and parked in front of the shabbiest shack on the street and just sat there.

“In a while his wife asked him what he was doing and his answer was simple. He said that he had thought about it and if she wanted him to stay home more and not work as hard he would be delighted to, but that if she wanted him to do that, she would have to agree to live it that house and he pointed toward the shack.”

“There you go,” said Mr. Hanks with a broad grin on his face.

“And you, Mr. Hanks. Looking at your midsection, I would say Mrs. Hanks was right. She is a good cook.”

“My wife is a fantastic cook.”

“Then you say you can’t live with her, what seems to be the problem?” 

“All she wants to do is fuss and complain. We never go out, she says. We don’t do anything together. We never have fun. I get tired of it.”

“You work during the day and your wife stays home, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever stayed at home? I don’t mean on a Saturday afternoon, or a holiday, but I mean day after day after day.”

“No, can’t say I have.”

“Take it from me. Other than maybe prison, it is the most boring experience a human can endure. There’s only so many books you can read and if you have an IQ over your shoe size, television is a waste of electricity. It is horrible. Try it for a few days. I promise you that you will be begging to go back to work.”

For a time, not a word was said, then the man patted the seat of the couch beside him and his wife smiled and slid over. “I’ve been an asshole,” he said.

“Yes, but I haven’t been thinking like I should either. Can we work on it?”

“Yes,” she smiled.

“Can I make a couple of suggestions?” asked Davy.

“Sure,” replied the man.

“Set up one night a week as your date night. That night of the week is yours, you go out, go to a movie, go dancing, go parking and make-out, it’s your night and nothing comes in the way. If someone gets sick, they’ll be better the next day. If friends come into town, meet them at the motel after your date. And take the whole family to church on Sunday.”

“I can’t stand church,” said Mr. Hanks.

“You know,” said Pastor Davy, “Neither can I. I despise it, but I get paid, so actually it isn’t so bad. Tell you what, try it. Mrs. Hanks, would you mind slipping ten dollars or so from the grocery money to pay Mr. Hanks to take the family to church?”

“I would be delighted,” she cried.

Mr. Hanks smiled and laughed.

As the Hanks family left Father Danny’s office, the daughter lingered behind, hugged Davie and Danny, and gave them a bright eyed “thank you” and a kiss on their cheeks. Davy held the door for the family and waved them goodby.

Davy turned and returned to Father Danny’s office. “I believe that went well,” he said.

Danny didn’t immediately respond but began shaking his head.

“What’s wrong?” asked the Baptist preacher.

“Nothing, except that in what seemed like a hundred years in Catholic school, the seminary, and God only knows how many hours in church, I have never seen a miracle until now, and who did it? A damn Baptist preacher. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to think. How did you know what to say?”

“You get pretty good at it when you’ve got fifteen years to think of what you wish someone had said to your parents.”

With that, Pastor Davy turned, gave Father Danny a quick wave and left.

That night, Danny came out onto the porch carrying two glasses and handed one to Davy. “You know Baptists don’t drink.”

“I’m just giving you a drink, not asking you to be seen in the liquor store.”

“Oh, okay, as long as you’re not asking me to do that.”

“Look, what you did today was something. I can’t get over it.”

“We don’t know it’s going to last.”

“No, but we do know it’s been started. That’s what matters.”

“I hope it does last.”

“I hope so too, but that’s not what’s bugging me. Something has been eating at me since this afternoon.”

“What?”

“Something you and I have left undone.”

“What do you mean?”

Danny exhaled and took a sip of his drink. “Years ago, Sister Mary Margaret accused us of thinking we were two Robin Hoods who felt called by God to protect the children in the school. Were we two Robin Hoods?”

Davy looked Danny straight in the eye but did not answer. 

“Did we feel called on by God. .  or something?”

“Did we? I don’t know, but it did feel good. How many kids did we help?”

“I don’t remember, but it was nice.”

“That’s what I mean by ‘unfinished’.”

Again, Davy looked Danny in the eye and said nothing. When he spoke he asked, “Do you think God is calling us to start again?”

“I don’t know. You’re the Baptist. You’re the ones that are always saying that God spoke to you. God has never said a thing to me, if he did, I’d probably have a heart attack.”

“There’s a lot of difference between roughing up some bully on a playground and righting some of the wrongs that go on now, especially in this town.”

“I will agree, but who is in a better position to find out the people’s problems? I probably call the police six times a week to report something the people are afraid to mention. Plus, we’re a lot bigger now than we were then and a lot smarter..”

“If we were too smart, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“So you want to do it?” asked Danny.

“You knew the answer to that before you asked.” answered Davy as he reached out and shook his friend’s hand.

I'll Try Again

  In case you two haven't figured, you are the spark plugs for Men Of the Cloth.  But, what you don't know is that I set up a blog this morning. It makes the email easier to read. The blog will only go to you two. Donn prefers to wait until my books are in print before he reads them, and I really don't believe I need to give anyone else free reads.
   Now, if anything in the book gives you pause, makes you uncomfortable, or any manner challenges your psyche, speak to me. I will listen with great compassion and interest and nod at the appropriate times. Now, where we left off yesterday:


“It has, Danny, it has. It’s about time for supper. Mrs. Peele gets real testy when you’re late. I’ll let you get ready then come on down.”
“That sounds like a winner. I’ll be right down.”
Little was said during supper. Mrs. Peele introduced the new minister to the other residents and since their seats were at opposite ends of the massive table, the best they could do was an occasional nod. After supper, Father Daniel motioned for Davie to join him on the front porch.
The two went out on the huge front porch that covered the entire front of the rooming house. They sat in two of the twelve white oak rocking chairs that formed a line across the porch. As they came outside, the smell of honeysuckle enveloped them.
“It’s nice out here,” said Davie. “Any of the rest come out?”
“Every now and then, Mr. Perkins, the thin man with the big ears comes out, but not often. Most of the time, I think they prefer the air conditioning inside.”
“How long have you been back?”
“Going on two months. You remember when we left?”
“Yea, I remember. I thought I had lost my best friend.”
Danny smiled. “You had. Dad found a job at some textile plant, but that didn’t last long. And, from then on we were like migrant laborers. Dad went from job to job and we tagged along. When I graduated from high school, they kept going, but I stayed.”
“I tried to write you, but the letters came back.”
“I would imagine, I guess we moved six or seven times in that five years. There was no way a letter could find me. I wish one had. I missed my old friend.”
“And, you became an Episcopal priest.”
“Yep, my parents carried the church and the Pope to every new place we moved. God was going to do this, and God was going to do that, and good Catholics do this and good Catholics don’t do that. I couldn’t see where God was doing anything. And, I damn sure didn’t see where being a good Catholic was getting my father or my mother anywhere. Long before I was on my own, I was fed up with being a Catholic and for a while I dated an Episcopal girl. She took me to her church and that was it. There it was, all that ritual and hoopla I had grown up with. . . and loved, and not one shred of the ‘this is a sin’ crap and you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Oh yes, I know exactly what you’re talking about, but I also know you wanted to be a priest. I figured. . .”
“What? I’d become a Jesuit or something? No way. Like I said, I found girls. But, I did still want to be a priest. I met with the priest at my girlfriend’s church and he was a really nice guy. We became friends. We talked about religion, politics, things we might not should have talked about, but not once, I mean not once did he say ‘God wants us to” or ‘the Bible tells us that we should’. Not once. All that stuff I hated was gone. Long story short, I got involved in the church, met the Bishop, became a deacon, which for us is sort of like an assistant priest, applied for a scholarship to the seminary, and here I am. Father Daniel West. Roman collar without the Roman hang-ups.”
“In other words, you found what you wanted.”
“I guess so.”
“Is it perfect?”
“Absolutely not, most Episcopalians suffer from a bad superiority complex.”
“You mean inferiority complex.”
“Oh no, superiority. . . they think they’re better than anyone else. No, let me take that back. They think they’re better than everyone else.”
“I hate to bust your bubble, buddy, but Episcopalians don’t have a corner on that. Most Baptists believe their way is the only way. They believe that if you’re not a foot washing Baptist, you’re bound for Hell.”
“That is funny. Don’t you remember how they used to tell us straight out that if you weren’t Catholic, You were going to Hell.”
“Oh yes, Hell must be one crowded place.”
They looked at each other and laughed like they had done fifteen years before. Mrs. Peele heard the laughter and stepped out onto the porch. “You two seem to be getting along well.”
Davie answered, “Yes, we were just discussing. . .”
“Theology,” chimed in Danny.
“Yes, theology.”
“I don’t understand,” she said as she shook her head and slipped back inside.
Another round of laughter began.
“And you, a Baptist of all things.”
“I told you I was going to do that years ago.”
“You did, but you didn’t ever say you were going to be a Baptist preacher.”
“No, and I had no intentions of becoming one, but I was different than you. You loved all the ritual, I didn’t. I thought it was just so much hoopla. I couldn’t see where it had one thing to do with God. Somehow, I couldn’t see Jesus giving less of a damn how many candles there were on the altar or if I genuflected the correct way. You remember how they used to yell at the altar boys if we missed a word or took a wrong step?”
“Oh yes, I remember it well, too well.”
“I just didn’t see where that stuff was important. Anyway, you know my parents broke up.”
“Oh yes.”
“Well, of all people, my mom fell in love and married a Baptist minister.”
“If I remember correctly, your mom was Miss Super Catholic.”
“Oh yes, that was my mother.”
“I’ll bet there were some heated discussions in that house.”
“Oh, there were, but you know something? No matter how much they disagreed, there was never the hate that there was between my mom and dad. The guy loved my mother and the guy loved me. The man was wonderful.”
“Really? A Baptist preacher?”
“I never saw anyone like him before. He was there whenever a member of his congregation needed him and the amazing part, he was there whenever I needed him. I used to slip into the church when he was preparing his sermon. The man’s voice was magic. It was almost magnetic. You could watch the people in the congregation almost move toward him when he was preaching. And, it wasn’t that old Pentecostal stuff. Every word that came out of that man’s mouth was love and I wanted to be just like him.”
“Did you make it?”
“Did I make what?”
“Are you like him?”
“I’m still trying.”
“Let’s see, how do I ask this? Where are you working? Where are you preaching? What’s the right way?”
“Probably where am I preaching. I don’t know, I never had to ask anyone the question. But, to answer your question, I deliver my first sermon at the Meredith Baptist Church this Sunday and I am nervous.”
“Why? Haven’t you delivered sermons before?”
“Oh yes, in the Marne Corps. I was a chaplain for years, but it’s not the same. These people can walk out.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“I wish I was as sure as you are.”
“You could try praying.”
“I had rather have a written guarantee.”
“I don’t believe that’s available. You want to slip down to Saint Titus and see if Father Crane is still around? He can give you a blessing.”
“I’m not that worried.”

 The following Sunday, Pastor David Tate delivered his first sermon at Meredith Baptist Church to a standing room only assembly. Davie wasn’t naive. He knew the majority of those who filled the seats were there out of curiosity to see how a former Catholic delivered the word, and he did his best. At one point during the sermon he thought he saw the congregation move slightly forward. It was inspiring.
A long line waited to shake the new minister’s hand as they left the church and toward the end of the line a firmer grip than usual wrapped his hand and a man pulled him into a hug. “You did good, Fella,” said the man. As he pulled back he could see it was Danny.
“What, no collar?”
“Today was your show, Davie, and you did great. I believe your stepfather would be proud of you.” A tear fell down the young pastor’s cheek.
“Thank you for saying that and thank you for being here.”
“What? You think I would miss the opportunity to see you fall on your ass?” Danny realized what he had said and cut a quick, but embarrassed, smile to the lady beside him. As he did, Davie pulled him into another hug.
“You know that magnetic thing you wanted. You’ve got it.”
“You really believe that?”
“Believe it, I saw it. How many of these people have you seen trying to slip by you without shaking hands? Look over at that side door. How many are using that door to avoid speaking to the preacher man? Last I counted it was none. Not that it matters, but I am proud of you.”
Davie squeezed Danny’s hand. “It matters.”

Okay and Good Morning

   In case you two haven't figured, you are the spark plugs for Men Of the Cloth.  But, what you don't know is that I set up a blog this morning. It makes the email easier to read. The blog will only go to you two. Donn prefers to wait until my books are in print before he reads them, and I really don't believe I need to give anyone else free reads.
   Now, if anything in the book gives you pause, makes you uncomfortable, or any manner challenges your psyche, speak to me. I will listen with great compassion and interest and nod at the appropriate times. Now, where we left off yesterday:


“It has, Danny, it has. It’s about time for supper. Mrs. Peele gets real testy when you’re late. I’ll let you get ready then come on down.”
“That sounds like a winner. I’ll be right down.”
Little was said during supper. Mrs. Peele introduced the new minister to the other residents and since their seats were at opposite ends of the massive table, the best they could do was an occasional nod. After supper, Father Daniel motioned for Davie to join him on the front porch.
The two went out on the huge front porch that covered the entire front of the rooming house. They sat in two of the twelve white oak rocking chairs that formed a line across the porch. As they came outside, the smell of honeysuckle enveloped them.
“It’s nice out here,” said Davie. “Any of the rest come out?”
“Every now and then, Mr. Perkins, the thin man with the big ears comes out, but not often. Most of the time, I think they prefer the air conditioning inside.”
“How long have you been back?”
“Going on two months. You remember when we left?”
“Yea, I remember. I thought I had lost my best friend.”
Danny smiled. “You had. Dad found a job at some textile plant, but that didn’t last long. And, from then on we were like migrant laborers. Dad went from job to job and we tagged along. When I graduated from high school, they kept going, but I stayed.”
“I tried to write you, but the letters came back.”
“I would imagine, I guess we moved six or seven times in that five years. There was no way a letter could find me. I wish one had. I missed my old friend.”
“And, you became an Episcopal priest.”
“Yep, my parents carried the church and the Pope to every new place we moved. God was going to do this, and God was going to do that, and good Catholics do this and good Catholics don’t do that. I couldn’t see where God was doing anything. And, I damn sure didn’t see where being a good Catholic was getting my father or my mother anywhere. Long before I was on my own, I was fed up with being a Catholic and for a while I dated an Episcopal girl. She took me to her church and that was it. There it was, all that ritual and hoopla I had grown up with. . . and loved, and not one shred of the ‘this is a sin’ crap and you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Oh yes, I know exactly what you’re talking about, but I also know you wanted to be a priest. I figured. . .”
“What? I’d become a Jesuit or something? No way. Like I said, I found girls. But, I did still want to be a priest. I met with the priest at my girlfriend’s church and he was a really nice guy. We became friends. We talked about religion, politics, things we might not should have talked about, but not once, I mean not once did he say ‘God wants us to” or ‘the Bible tells us that we should’. Not once. All that stuff I hated was gone. Long story short, I got involved in the church, met the Bishop, became a deacon, which for us is sort of like an assistant priest, applied for a scholarship to the seminary, and here I am. Father Daniel West. Roman collar without the Roman hang-ups.”
“In other words, you found what you wanted.”
“I guess so.”
“Is it perfect?”
“Absolutely not, most Episcopalians suffer from a bad superiority complex.”
“You mean inferiority complex.”
“Oh no, superiority. . . they think they’re better than anyone else. No, let me take that back. They think they’re better than everyone else.”
“I hate to bust your bubble, buddy, but Episcopalians don’t have a corner on that. Most Baptists believe their way is the only way. They believe that if you’re not a foot washing Baptist, you’re bound for Hell.”
“That is funny. Don’t you remember how they used to tell us straight out that if you weren’t Catholic, You were going to Hell.”
“Oh yes, Hell must be one crowded place.”
They looked at each other and laughed like they had done fifteen years before. Mrs. Peele heard the laughter and stepped out onto the porch. “You two seem to be getting along well.”
Davie answered, “Yes, we were just discussing. . .”
“Theology,” chimed in Danny.
“Yes, theology.”
“I don’t understand,” she said as she shook her head and slipped back inside.
Another round of laughter began.
“And you, a Baptist of all things.”
“I told you I was going to do that years ago.”
“You did, but you didn’t ever say you were going to be a Baptist preacher.”
“No, and I had no intentions of becoming one, but I was different than you. You loved all the ritual, I didn’t. I thought it was just so much hoopla. I couldn’t see where it had one thing to do with God. Somehow, I couldn’t see Jesus giving less of a damn how many candles there were on the altar or if I genuflected the correct way. You remember how they used to yell at the altar boys if we missed a word or took a wrong step?”
“Oh yes, I remember it well, too well.”
“I just didn’t see where that stuff was important. Anyway, you know my parents broke up.”
“Oh yes.”
“Well, of all people, my mom fell in love and married a Baptist minister.”
“If I remember correctly, your mom was Miss Super Catholic.”
“Oh yes, that was my mother.”
“I’ll bet there were some heated discussions in that house.”
“Oh, there were, but you know something? No matter how much they disagreed, there was never the hate that there was between my mom and dad. The guy loved my mother and the guy loved me. The man was wonderful.”
“Really? A Baptist preacher?”
“I never saw anyone like him before. He was there whenever a member of his congregation needed him and the amazing part, he was there whenever I needed him. I used to slip into the church when he was preparing his sermon. The man’s voice was magic. It was almost magnetic. You could watch the people in the congregation almost move toward him when he was preaching. And, it wasn’t that old Pentecostal stuff. Every word that came out of that man’s mouth was love and I wanted to be just like him.”
“Did you make it?”
“Did I make what?”
“Are you like him?”
“I’m still trying.”
“Let’s see, how do I ask this? Where are you working? Where are you preaching? What’s the right way?”
“Probably where am I preaching. I don’t know, I never had to ask anyone the question. But, to answer your question, I deliver my first sermon at the Meredith Baptist Church this Sunday and I am nervous.”
“Why? Haven’t you delivered sermons before?”
“Oh yes, in the Marne Corps. I was a chaplain for years, but it’s not the same. These people can walk out.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“I wish I was as sure as you are.”
“You could try praying.”
“I had rather have a written guarantee.”
“I don’t believe that’s available. You want to slip down to Saint Titus and see if Father Crane is still around? He can give you a blessing.”
“I’m not that worried.”

 The following Sunday, Pastor David Tate delivered his first sermon at Meredith Baptist Church to a standing room only assembly. Davie wasn’t naive. He knew the majority of those who filled the seats were there out of curiosity to see how a former Catholic delivered the word, and he did his best. At one point during the sermon he thought he saw the congregation move slightly forward. It was inspiring.
A long line waited to shake the new minister’s hand as they left the church and toward the end of the line a firmer grip than usual wrapped his hand and a man pulled him into a hug. “You did good, Fella,” said the man. As he pulled back he could see it was Danny.
“What, no collar?”
“Today was your show, Davie, and you did great. I believe your stepfather would be proud of you.” A tear fell down the young pastor’s cheek.
“Thank you for saying that and thank you for being here.”
“What? You think I would miss the opportunity to see you fall on your ass?” Danny realized what he had said and cut a quick, but embarrassed, smile to the lady beside him. As he did, Davie pulled him into another hug.
“You know that magnetic thing you wanted. You’ve got it.”
“You really believe that?”
“Believe it, I saw it. How many of these people have you seen trying to slip by you without shaking hands? Look over at that side door. How many are using that door to avoid speaking to the preacher man? Last I counted it was none. Not that it matters, but I am proud of you.”
Davie squeezed Danny’s hand. “It matters.”