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Chapter 8 -

Davy and Danny had never thought of their little congregation growing, but it grew beyond their wildest expectations. Problems did developed when people from St. Egbert’s Episcopal Church and Meredith Baptist showed their displeasure with their pastors’s affection for “foreigners”. But ironically, the number of non-Spanish speaking members approached the number of “foreigners”. The two pastor’s response was always the same to every nay-sayer from the in-town churches who sought to criticize them. “I am a part-time minister here. If my service displeases this congregation, it is certainly the congregation’s option to dismiss me.” Deep down in their heart, the two pastors relished the thought that they might be released. Their new method of Sunday service was unique, but time consuming. Every Sunday service required hours of research and planning. Nothing was left to chance. Danny had asked the bishop to accept his resignation three times and three times the bishop begged him to stay.
“It amazes me,” said Davy.
“What amazes you?”
“What do I need to do to get fired?” he asked.
“If I believed for a moment you wanted to get fired it would be different. I’ve heard you. There’s too many people at Meredith Baptist you care about, and, who care about you.”
“Yea, you’re right. But I do get tired of the bitching.”
“What, is the church split?”
“Danny, there’s no such thing as a Baptist church that’s not split. You’ve always got half going one way and half going the other. That’s the way it’s always been. That’s the way it will always be.”
“Okay,” said Danny. “Some man came by today and said he had a program that would improve our accounting and tax structure. He’s coming by tonight to talk to us.”
“Do we have an accounting?”
“Not that I know of.”
“What’s a tax structure?”
“Beats me.”
“Then why is he coming?”
“I wanted you to hear what he has to say. We might need whatever it is he’s pushing.”
“I wish you had just sent him on his way.”
“I didn’t. He’ll be here tonight.”
Later that evening there was a knock on Danny’s door.
“Father West?”
“Yes.”
“Arnie Miller, we talked today.”
Danny introduced Davy and they all sat. Miller kept glancing around the cabin with a look of concern. "Father, is this your fishing cabin or your getaway place or what.”
“No,” answered Danny. “This is my home.”
“Oh, I see,” said the man. “And Pastor Tait, you live in town?”
“No, here in Camp Eden, three doors down.”
“Oh, okay,” said Miller.
“Well, down to business. Over the last year your church has taken in well over a million dollars.”
“How do you know that?” asked Danny.
“From Mrs. Sanchez. I believe she’s your accountant.”
“She counts the money, if that’s what you mean?”
The man smiled. “First, I have certain methods that you might consider to organize your church affairs.”
Davy looked at Danny, neither man said anything.
“The first thing we would need to do is look at the structure of your organization.”
Danny smiled and held up his hand. “Mr. Miller, may I be so bold as to ask your religion?”
“I am a Presbyterian, why.”
“A Presbyterian, that is good. I’m an Episcopalian and Preacher Davy here is a Baptist.”
“That’s nice to know,” said the man, “But–“
”No, what I’m saying is that Christ’s first followers were called Christians. The term was considered derogatory by some, and I guess acceptable by others, but nonetheless, they were known as Christians.”
“Okay,” said the man obviously confused.
“The point I’m trying to make, Mr. Miller, is that Christ’s first followers were simple folk. Most were uneducated and certainly not sophisticated. After Christ’s death, the number of his followers grew exponentially. Yet, they were still simple, plain folk. In time, that simplicity diminished. Following the words of Christ was not enough. There came a feeling that the increasing number of followers needed to be organized. It needed to be structured. Low and behold, disagreements arose about this new structure. The followers split into segments one preferring one structure, others preferring another. Before long, the simple ways of Christ evaporated. In the next few hundred years, that first simple group became something that Christ himself would have difficulty recognizing. The point of this, Mr. Miller, is that had that simple first group not been ‘organized’ and ‘structured’ the Christianity of Christ would still be as much here as it was in the days Christ walked the earth. One person wouldn’t be one denomination and another person in another denomination. Do you agree, Padre Davy?”
“Oh I do, Padre Danny. Indeed I do.”
“Mr. Miller, we have a simple group. We prefer to keep it that way.”
“Okay then, gentlemen,” said Miller obviously miffed by his rebuttal. “Then we need to look at your compensation and tax structure. With the amount of money you are receiving, your salaries should be drastically higher.”
Danny looked at Davy. “You need any money, Davy?”
“No, why, if you’re running a few dollars short, I believe I got a twenty.”
“No, Mr. Miller, seems like Preacher Davy and I are doing okay.”
“Well, reverends, you are bringing in a fortune. You need to consider putting it into some long term investments.”
“Hmmm,” said Danny, “What are we doing with it now?”
“You’re giving every cent to the poor!” the man exclaimed.
“That is interesting. Preacher Davy, you’re the expert on the Bible, you remember Christ saying anything about giving money to the poor, seems like I remember him saying something about that.”
“Yes he did, Padre Danny, he mentioned giving to the poor any number of times.”
“Hmmm, you recollect him saying anything about putting anything in long term investments?”
“No, Padre Danny, I don’t remember him ever mentioning long term investments, course I may be wrong, I can go back and look, but I don’t remember a thing about–“

Another week, Another opportunity.

That afternoon, after the last person left the church, Danny and Davy walked back toward the cabins. “Did you notice the time?” asked Davy.
“Not really, I forgot my watch this morning.”
“It’s almost one thirty.”
“You need to check your watch, fella. That means we would have been in church over two hours. That could never happen.”
“I know. Usually the people start squirming by eleven forty-five. By noon, their feet are pointed toward the door.”
“That’s the truth. We may have gone a few minutes over, but not an hour and a half.”
Just then, they walked past one of the buildings in the camp. Davy stopped Danny, tugged at his shirt and pointed at a window. “See that clock inside? What does it say?”
Danny looked and said, “That is impossible. We were in there for two and a half hours. That is impossible. Nobody left.”
“Danny, the service this morning was good. It was really good.”
“Yea, but Davy, two and a half hours?”
“The thing with the communion went for a good thirty or forty minutes. I imagine by the time all the questions were answered it went well over an hour. That sermon of yours. . . I can’t say enough good about that sermon.”
Danny’s face lit up. “Did I almost give a good Baptist sermon?”
“Oh, I think you went well past it. If you had have thrown in a few altar calls, you could have almost made it to level three.”
“Level three, what is level three?”
“A Pentecostal Holiness sermon with people jumping, screaming, yelling and speaking in tongues.”
“Is there a level four?”
“Yea, but you don’t want to go there, it’s real hard on the furniture.”
“Ohhh, that good?”
“That good?”
The two laughed, then Davy’s smile faded. “Two and a half hours, I’ll bet we won’t have twenty people here next week.”
“If that’s all we have, we’ll give those twenty people the best service we can muster. Agreed?” smiled Danny.
“Totally agreed, Padre.”

Tuesday evening the phone rang in Danny’s cabin.
“Father West,” Danny answered.
“Preacher West?” asked the man on the phone.
“Yes.”
“The preacher at St. Egbert’s Episcopal Church?”
“Yes sir, for now, one in the same.”
“Preacher, I just heard something and I just wanted to check and see if it was true.”
“What is that, sir?”
“Fella said he went to that Mexican church of yours last Sunday and somebody there said there was a couple of things in the Bible that didn’t agree.”
“Okay.”
“You’re not denying it?”
“No sir, there are quite a few things in the Bible where the ones who wrote the gospels don’t agree.”
“Look, I was told the Bible is the word of God. Ain’t that what you were told?”
“Yes sir, we consider the Bible the inspired word of God. I don’t see a problem.”
“No, you miss my point. Is the Bible the word of God? Either it is, or it ain’t. Which is it. If God wrote the thing, God don’t make no mistakes.”
“Sir, the Bible was written by men. We like to believe that God inspired the men who wrote the books of the Bible to write the words they wrote. The men who selected what would go into the Bible believed the books were inspired works, inspired by God.”
“Men who selected? I don’t understand.”
“Books to be included in the Bible were selected over several years. Some books made it, some books didn’t.”
“Who did this decidin’?”
“Several hundred bishops about sixteen, seventeen hundred years ago. Over time, they voted on what would be included and what wouldn’t. It was a long process.”
“Bishops? What kind of bishops?”
“Catholic bishops.”
“An’ they voted? Catholic bishops?”
“Yes. That is correct.”
“I was always told God wrote the Bible and it couldn’t have no mistakes because God wrote it.”
“All I can tell you, sir, is the way it happened.”
“An’ that was the way it happened?”
“That was the way it happened.”
An abrupt,“Thank you” followed and then a dial tone.
Danny was concerned about the phone conversation and grabbed two cold drinks and headed for Davy’s cabin. When he arrived, he told Davy about the phone call. Davy laughed and shook his head. “You’ve had one call? I’ve had eight. Same questions the man asked you and I give them the same answers you gave. The way I figure it, these people think that one day God decided he would write a book. He sat down at his desk and started writing. When he was through, he decided he would call his book the ‘Holy Bible’. He dropped the book from Heaven to earth and from then on, we had the Bible.”
“Nobody’s that stupid, Davy.”
“Maybe not, but what did the man who called you think?”
Danny just looked at Davy and shook his head. Davy was right.
“And that part about the bishops deciding? Try telling some yellow dog Baptist that the Bible that they worship so fervently was put together by a bunch of Catholic bishops. Try it. They go ballistic!”
“We were worried about not having twenty next Sunday, you figure we need to cut that number in half?”
“That still may be generous. Tell you what, if nobody shows up, why don’t we just go fishing?”
“You got it, brother.”
But it didn’t work that way. Sunday morning, one of the men knocked on Danny’s door. “Padre, you need to come right away. Someone has gone to get Padre Davy.”
“What’s the problem, Fernando. Is someone hurt?”
“No, Padre, please come.”
As Danny stepped off the porch, he looked toward the church. Cars filled every available space. “And Padre, the cars are lined up well down the road. The cars fill the road.”
“Just then, Davy ran up beside Danny. I cannot believe this.”
“You can’t. I can’t either.”
“Padres, what should we do? There’s so many people.”
“Fernando,” said Danny. “I don’t know what you need to do, but Padre Davy and I need to play Baptist.”
“Pardon Padre, I do not understand.”
Davy smiled and placed his hand on Fernando’s shoulder. “What Padre Danny means, Fernando, is that we need to go do something bigger and better.”
“Can we do it? Davy?”
“Hell, Danny, we’ve got to do it.”
And they did it bigger, and they did it better. Each week the crowds increased. People who had always looked upon going to church as a duty, an obligation, something they had rather not do, were now flocking to the little church in the middle of Camp Eden. Each week, Danny and Davy took something from the Bible and showed in detail the history of the chapter or verse and, above all, how it related to every person there.
For the balance of the spring and that summer, when the weather was nice, church was held outside on the lawn. On cooler days or when it was raining, as many people as could huddled in the little church. Those who couldn’t get in  gathered as close as possible. Regardless of whether the people sat or stood, regardless if the heat came from the furnace in the church or from a wool blanket they brought, when the people left the little church, God had new meaning. God wasn’t some far off entity floating on a cloud. God was their friend. God was someone they were beginning to know better and God was someone who already knew them.

Danny's Sermon

When everyone was finished, Davy and Danny returned the trays to their place and stepped to the front of the altar. Davy placed his hands together and asked if there were any questions. A lady raised her hand and stood. With tears running down her cheeks, she said in Spanish, “I have been taking communion every Sunday since I was eight years old, yet I have never really known what it meant. Yes, I knew ‘this is my body, this is my blood’ but they were only words. You have made it come to life. You have made our Lord’s love real, Gracias, Gracias.”
The lady’s words were translated and the room came alive with voices in both Spanish and English. One woman came to the front and kissed Danny and Davy’s hands. People were nodding and speaking to each other. Some were smiling, others cried. Another man stood and said, “We’ve had the Lord’s Supper in our church since I was a kid, you know with the cracker and the grape juice, but I thought it was something like singing a hymn. It was just a nice thing to do, sort of a Jesus thing. I didn’t know all that stuff you said. I heard it but it didn’t register. I know this is out of order, but if you don’t mind, I want to shake your hand. Before the man could get from where he was sitting, Davy ran to where the man was with an ear to ear grin on his face and shook the man’s hand. On his way back to the front, Davy glanced at Danny. Danny was wiping tears from his eyes.
It took several more minutes for everyone to regain their composure. As the crowd settled, Danny stepped behind the pulpit. He was silent as he looked at the people, then began. “And Jesus said, ‘Do this in remembrance of me’. Simple words, simple words. As I look at you wonderful people I see many sitting close together.” Danny smiled. “I would assume it’s because you are sitting with the ones you love.”
A moment of silence.
“That night at the Last Supper, Jesus was sitting with people he loved, people he had been with since the beginning of his ministry, people he had been with night and day for years. They had been with each other in the good times. They had been with each other in times that, maybe weren’t so good. These were people Jesus loved. For them, it was pretty much a night like other nights. They were together. They were sharing a meal. For them, it was a night like most nights. But for Jesus, this night was far from business as usual.”
Danny leaned forward on the pulpit.
“Right now, for you, and the ones beside you, it’s pretty much Sunday morning business as usual. You are in church.” Danny smiled and continued. “Soon the man talking in the pulpit will finish. You will leave this place and gather at your home for your Sunday meal. But, I would pose a question. What if you knew the Sunday meal you were about to share would be your last meal with the people you love? What if you knew this time, and the next few hours would be the last time you would spend on this earth with these people? Would it be the same? Would it be ‘business as usual’? I think not.”
Danny’s voice got a bit louder.
“But Jesus knew these things. He knew all too well what was to come. He also knew that the terrible things to follow would have to be completed for the sake of the ones with him at the table, and those not at the table, ones he loved every bit as much as Peter, John, and the other apostles seated with him. Ones who were yet to be born, ones who would not know this world for centuries to come.” Slowly Danny said, “Ones like you and like me.”
Danny looked around the room.
“What would you do if such an awesome burden fell upon your shoulders? What would you do if you knew the people you were with, the people you loved, were depending on you suffering and going through inhuman agonies, and yes, dying? What would you do? What would you do if you knew all humanity depended on you and your actions in the next few hours?”
Total silence.
“Jesus knew these things. How do we know? Let’s look at his words. Words he said just before he shared bread and wine with the ones he loved just as you, a few minutes ago, shared bread and wine with the ones you love. The accounts of the gospels differ in many ways, but the message is the same. Jesus took the bread and said, ‘This is my body which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’ He took the wine and said ‘This is my blood of the new covenant, which is poured out for many’. Were these the words of someone who knew nothing of what was to come? He knew his body would soon be broken. He knew his blood would soon be spilled. He also knew who he was doing it for. He would be doing it for the ones sitting with him at the table. He would be doing it for those yet to come. He would be doing it for you and for me.”
Danny looked at Davy. Davy smiled and though his hands were placed in his lap, he raised his thumb slightly giving Danny a ‘thumbs up’. Danny had done good.

Today... El Tap

That Sunday, Father Danny and Preacher Davy stood at the front of the church. Danny made the announcement, “Brothers and Sisters, today we will be doing things just a bit differently than you may be accustomed to. It will take more time. If you have something important to do, please watch the time and leave when you must leave. We understand people have obligations so don’t feel bad if you must leave. God still loves you.”
Davy stood and made the same announcement Spanish. Then Davy sat and Danny began.
“As Jesus and the disciples went along, one of the disciples asked Jesus to teach them how to pray. Danny smiled at the congregation and said, “When we come to the prayer, please let me say it for you.” Then, Danny continued, “And Jesus said ‘when you pray, say ‘Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, as in Heaven so in earth. Give us this day, our daily bread. And forgive us our sins, for we also forgive every one that is indebted to us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”
Danny stopped and asked “Are there any questions? If so, please ask.”
One man in the back slowly raised his hand. “Yes sir,” said Danny.
“That’s not the way I learned the Lord’s Prayer,” he said. “Where did you get that?”
“Book of Luke, Chapter 13,” Danny replied.
“Oh,” said the man as he sat down.
Danny glanced at Davy. Davy subtly pointed at himself, which meant the man had been from Davy’s congregation.
“What about, ‘for thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory’? You didn’t say that.” asked a woman on the back row. Danny pointed at himself the same way Davy had done. This question was from a member of Danny’s congregation.
“That is in the Book of Matthew but not in the Book of Luke. I don’t know which one is correct. I wasn’t there.”
There was brief laughter followed by more laughter as what was said was translated into Spanish.
“Are there any other questions? If there are, please do not be embarrassed to ask.”
A man toward the front stood. Danny looked over toward Davy. Davy’s finger was on his chest pointing toward himself.
“You mean the two books of the Bible do not agree?”
“No sir. Check it in your Bible to make certain." He looked out on the congregation, smiled and then continued. "Any other questions?"
No one responded. Danny lifted his hymnal and said, “Please join me in singing hymn number one hundred and nineteen, one hundred and nineteen.”
As they began singing, Danny looked at Davy. Davy was smiling. They had made it through the first prayer of their new program to bring people to God.
Davy was next. He stood and said, “Today we will have communion. Many of you are thinking ‘so what? We have communion every week’. Some of you are thinking ‘we do it every month or so’. A small few may be asking ‘What is communion?’.”
“Every Christian is familiar with the Last Supper. It is the subject of some of the world’s greatest art. It is a pivotal part of the Christian faith. The last supper and communion are probably the most repeated segments of Christianity. At the last supper, our Lord took bread and wine and offered them as tokens of his body and blood. Some faiths say this is only symbolic. Other faiths believe that the bread and wine is actually transformed into Christ’s body and blood. Some Christian denominations equate the practice with cannibalism.” Davy shrugged. “I can’t really say, but what I can say is that communion is a striking reminder of Jesus’ love for us. Because, keep in mind, the supper and the communion we commemorate happened almost a full day before Jesus went to the cross to die. How did he know he was going to die in excruciating pain?” Again, Davy shrugged. “Again, I can’t say, but it was certain he knew his death was coming and he obviously knew the manner it would take and, yes, he cried later that night in the garden. But, even knowing what was to come, he allowed it to happen. Would you have a love such as that?”
Davy removed a cloth covering several loves of flatbread and two cups. “Padre Danny and I will pass in front of you. As we do, please break a piece of bread from the loaf and take a sip of wine from the cup. If you prefer, you may dip your bread into the cup. You may take the bread only. You may take the wine only. Or, if you prefer, take nothing. It is entirely up to you, but, as we pass, think to yourself of the love required to know of the horror that was to come and what you would do.”
Danny took a tray of bread and wine and went to the left side of the church. Davy took a tray and went to the right. They stopped in front of each individual and as the person would break off a piece of bread, they would say, “This is my body”. As the person dipped his bread into the cup, they would say, “This is my blood”. As the person ate his or her portion, they would repeat, “Do this in remembrance of me”. Nothing was rushed, nothing was hurried. Some people stood. Some sat. Each person had his time with the bread and the wine.

Marking Time

“Be glad to. Any idiot can read a bible. I had a great-aunt who could quote anything in the bible chapter and verse. I have people in my own church who take great pride in the fact they can quote any passage chapter and verse. They have memorized every word. What a waste. If you were to ask them what that chapter and verse actually means, they don’t have the foggiest idea. They will sound like a first grader trying to explain quantum physics. They take untold pride in knowing the words. But, that’s all they know, the words. What a meaningless effort. That is not what I’m talking about.”
“My step-father, who did know what the words meant, said that in any group of Christians there are actually three groups. One group of people believes that every word in the Bible came straight from the mouth of God. The second group believes it’s a nice book with some enlightening stories. And, the third group sincerely believes that from cover to cover it’s nothing but bull. He said not to worry about the last group because the last place they would ever want to be is in a church. He said it’s the other two groups you concern yourself with.”
“That makes sense.”
“He said that the ones who believe that every word in the Bible is accurate and true are never the brightest bulbs in the package. But, if you play to them, the others will be satisfied.”
“Play to them? What do you mean.”
“The first group believes the words are absolutely literal. The other group doesn’t really care. They don’t care if Jesus was riding on a donkey or an ass, they’re educated enough, and smart enough, to look at it simply that Jesus was traveling. If you say that Jonah was swallowed by a whale, the first group will correct you and tell you that the Bible says that Jonah was swallowed by a huge fish. As far as the second group is concerned, Jonah could have been swallowed by the shark in the movie Jaws, it wouldn’t matter. The gist of the story is that Jonah was swallowed by something. What it was really doesn’t make a whole lot of difference. So, you try to satisfy the literalists, you satisfy both.”
“It does make perfectly good sense.”
“Yes it does. Anyone with a shred of good sense knows it would be impossible to flood the entire world. The water has got to come from somewhere and wherever the water comes from is dry. But, you tell a literalist that and you’ve got a pissing contest started. You just say the whole world was flooded, the literalist is happy and the other guys will concern themselves with the story, not where the water came from.”
“All this time as a priest and I’ve never thought. . . never mind.”
“Okay, next, avoid bear traps.”
“What pray tell, is a bear trap?”
“A bear trap is something that will slam shut and not let go. The television preachers get caught in bear traps all the time, just listen to them. They constantly say, ‘God wants us to. . .’. If you’ve got a church full of people who can’t tie their own shoes, saying something like that is okay. They’ll take what you said as true and move on. But, if you have one person in that church who has the ability to think beyond his next meal, he’ll know that what you said God thinks is just your opinion and anything else that you say will just be opinion and therefore, wasted air. At no place in the Bible did God say ‘I want you to’.”
“Amazing, damn amazing.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Okay, but how do you make the Bible exciting, even motivating?’
“By not trying to make it anything but what it is.”
“Glad you explained it. That makes no sense.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t over examine the Bible. We don’t have any idea who wrote what or why they wrote it. They might have been inspired or someone may have waved a few silver shekels at them. We don’t know. We don’t know how many changes the monks who copied the bible for a thousand years made, but it is still the best collection of moral stories ever compiled. Just find the story and tell it. Who cares if it actually happened or it didn’t? Who cares if it happened on Mt. Ararat or on top of Old Smokey? It’s the story that matters, not the details. The Good Samaritan helped the traveler. That’s all that matters. Whether he was laying on the left side of the road or the right doesn’t mean a thing. Whether he was knocked in the head or had a broken leg doesn’t change a thing. Whether it actually happened or not doesn’t mean squat.”
“No it doesn’t. And the second you concern yourself with that, you miss the whole story.”
“Bingo!”
“You want to do the sermon Sunday?” asked Davy. “You want to pick out something and bring it down to the basics. Just like we said about Lombardi. . . ‘Gentlemen, this is a football’.”
“Yes, I want to do it. Believe it or not, I’m excited about it.”
“Good, just make it a good Baptist sermon.”

Tuesday, A trip to Flo's and Hardened Arteries

“Now, is it reasonable to think that we can convince people who think that a Bible is nothing but a nice shelf ornament that there may just be something in it, while we convince other people that church history didn’t begin when the cornerstone to their church building was laid?”
“That sir,” said Davy, “may take some doing.”
The two filled their glasses and sat quietly for a time. As they sat, people passed by and smiled. Occasionally someone would reach up on the porch and shake a hand or just touch them. Then, Davy spoke. “I keep going back to the things my step-father told me. The Bible thing isn’t going to be that difficult, I’ll tell you why later. The history thing is going to be the bugaboo.”
“Bugaboo?”
“Yea, you and I had all that history and pope and saint stuff pounded into us by the nuns from the time we started school. Before that, our parents pounded it into us. Why was it important to us? Because our parents and the nuns and God only knows who else said it was important. But, let me ask you a question. Was there one thing in all that history that brought you or me or anybody else on this planet one bit closer to God?”
Danny sat there sipping on his drink not saying anything. Occasionally, he would look at Davy, but he said nothing.
Davy finally looked at Danny and said, “You’re not saying anything.”
“No, I can’t think of a time that I was kicked in the balls that I had an urge to talk.”
Danny stood and walked out onto the lawn in front of the cabins. He bent over and picked up a piece of grass and threw it into the wind. He walked back to the cabin and sat on the steps. “You’re right. It was important because they said it was important. That’s the only reason. Just because they made us think it was important. It was interesting, yea, I’ll give it that, but important? Oh, I know why they did it. The impressive altar accouterments, the lavish vestments, gold chalices and impressive churches, it all evokes emotion, the same emotion you try to evoke with your words. God didn’t say,’Pick this Pope’ or ‘Build this church’. God didn’t ever say, ‘say this prayer’ or ‘move this way or that way on the altar’. What does that young man sitting in the third row on Sunday morning care who was the fourth pope or the fortieth? What does he care if I read the gospel before or after the lord’s prayer? If he thinks that stuff is important, it’s because mom or dad or Grandma Annie said it was important, not because it is.”
“Is this leading somewhere?” asked Davy.
“I believe so. When one of the nuns or mom or dad said any of this stuff was important, did they ever say why?”
“You mean why it was important?”
Davy looked at Danny and shook his head. “No, never.”
“Then, are our Latinos who were raised the same way you and I were one bit more knowledgeable about that stuff than your Baptists who wouldn’t know a pope from a pimp?”
Davy began smiling.
“What is it?”
“I was just thinking of a pimp wearing a pointy hat.”
“Shhh. . .  Am I wrong?”
“You know you’re not.”
“Then what’s wrong with pulling a Vince Lombardi?”
“What do you mean?”
“Vince Lombardi, winningest football coach in history. He began every training camp by telling the players that they were going back to the basics. His first words each year were ‘Gentlemen, this is a football’ and he held up a football.”
“Back to the basics? The basics of Christianity?”
“Why not?”
“Yea,” thought Davy, “Why not?”
“Today, people, you will receive communion.”
“Yea, but we already say that.”
“Yea, at ninety miles an hour. And the ‘bread’ we give them is a rock hard disk that more resembles a miniature man hole cover than any piece of bread they have ever seen. You Baptists give them a damn cracker that looks like something a dentist would shove into a root canal.”
Davy smiled.
“We say the bread and the wine, and you give ‘em grape juice? How fake is that? You’re the expert on the Bible, at any time did Jesus pass around a cup of grape juice?”
“You know you’re being funny don’t you?”
“No, I believe we should tell them slowly and sincerely how the last supper went, what Jesus said and when we give them communion, we give them bread like Jesus would have eaten and real wine. Certainly not prepressed disks and grape juice. We make the communion very slow, personal and deliberate. We do the same for every single element in our service. If we can’t do it with meaning, the kind of meaning God deserves, we don’t do it. And, if someone has a question, or doesn’t understand, it’s safe to assume others don’t understand. We stop the service and answer the question.”
“It’s never been done.”
“Come here, Davy,” said Danny as he jumped off the porch. “Follow me.”
They walked closer to the church. Look at that sign, there’s never been a Baptist Episcopal church before. If you agree with me, we do it that way.”
“I totally agree with you.”
“Then, we do it our way. Now, we talk about the Bible.”
“Sounds good,” said Davy. “As far as I’m concerned, none of my teachers in the seminary and nobody else I have ever met was as well trained in the Bible as my step-father.”
“You mean he really knew the Bible?”
“That’s not what I said. I said well trained.”
“Okay, tell me what you’re talking about.”

A Brand New Week

“What do you mean?”
“Like the ones who came Sunday. How do they react?”
“I don’t follow.”
“The people here at Camp Eden, I think they’re okay. Our. . . hybrid, services we’ll call it, give them enough ritual to bring what they learned as Roman Catholics to the surface. And, like it or not, your fantastic preaching adds a lot to it. But I’m not talking about the people here, I’m talking about the people from town. What does our hybrid service evoke in them?”
“I still think you’re making too much of the visitors from town. They’re just curiosity seekers. They won’t be back.”
“What if they are?”
“Okay, what if they are? Let’s quit thinking Danny and Davy. Let’s look at the big picture. Aren’t we looking at one of the greatest opportunities of our lives?”
“Whoa, is it possible Mrs. Ramerez slipped a little wacky spice into your tacos?”
“No, listen to me. What is our purpose? What is it we do?”
“Hopefully, we bring people closer to God.”
“Right, and aren’t we sitting on an opportunity to do that better than it has ever been done before?”
“I don’t know about better,” said Davy, “but different.”
“Yes, different! For well over a thousand years some priest has said some prayers, sung a few hymns and flipped a communion wafer onto somebody’s tongue. For what, two, three hundred years some Baptist preacher has said some prayers, sung a few hymns and blasted out some sermon designed to make somebody think if they don’t do what he says they’re going to piss off God and end up in Hell.”
Davy smiled. “Love the way you bring it down to the basics.”
“Am I saying anything wrong?”
Davy inhaled, “No.”
“Okay, let’s look at this like God would do.”
Davy smiled, “Alright, go ahead and look at it like God would.”
“Do you think God gives a tinker’s damn if I wave a few pieces of flat bread around on Sunday?”
“Not really.”
“And do you think he gives a damn if you drag some lost soul up front screaming and crying to an altar call when you, the man and God knows that he’ll be back running around on his wife in a week?”
Davy nodded.
“And don’t get me wrong. They say even a blind hog finds an acorn every now and then. Every now and then, my sermon brings some derelict to the altar rail crying, but I know that when he comes back next week for communion, if he comes back, the whiskey on his breath will out smell the wine in my cup.”
“I agree, but where is all of this leading?”
“If we do our jobs bigger and better than anyone in history has done, we may actually bring people to God, not just put on a weekly show.” Danny pointed to the church on the little hill in the center of the camp. The sun was reflecting off the sign in front. “Look at that. What does it say? Read it however you want to, it comes out ‘Davy’s and Danny’s Baptist Episcopal Church’. It’s ours, why don’t we use it to bring people to God?”
“Why do I feel like you have some sort of majestic plans for us?”
“Because I do, my Baptist Episcopal friend, I do.”
“As you often ask me, are you going to tell me those plans?”
“Oh yes, because the plans are really quite simple. We’re going to take what we’ve been given and move it in the right direction.”
Davy shot his eyes up. “That makes no sense.”
“It will. Go open a couple of Cokes.”
When Davy got back, Danny motioned for him to sit. “Let’s look at what we’ve got. I know you have never been Episcopalian. I have never been Baptist. But, if the truth is known, I believe we have a better working knowledge of the two faiths than the average Episcopalian or Baptist. Do you agree?”
“Oh yes, whole heartedly.”
“Okay. Now, the difference between the Catholic church and the Episcopal church is all hierarchy. That’s it! The modes and forms are more or less the same. The big difference is just some codes that are changed ever few decades to suit the times and a bunch of babbling old men whose mentalities would improve with Alzheimers. That said, what would you say was the best part of the Episcopal church?”
“I would say without a doubt, the history. The connection to Jesus Christ.”
“Okay, what would you say was the worst part, the most ineffective part?”
“I would say, and I’m throwing some Baptist in here, I would say the lack of emphasis on the Bible.”
“Okay, so far so good.”
“You agree with me?” said Davy in surprise.
“I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck.”
“Hmmm. . . interesting.”
“Now, my good Baptist friend, what would you say was the best part of the Baptist church?”
“Actually, I would have to reverse the things I said about the Roman churches and say the best thing about the Baptist church is an adherence to the Bible and the worst thing is its total lack of history. It’s not connected to anything.”
“Okay, but I can’t really find fault with your members because I don’t know where the Baptist church started either. I’m sure you do. At least I hope you do.”
“Ironic as it may seem, it was started by an Anglican priest.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” smiled Danny.
He questioned infant baptism and said only adults should be baptized–“
”Let me guess, that’s where they got the term Baptists?”
Davy smiled and nodded. “Kind of weak isn’t it?”
“I’ve heard of weaker. But, bottom line is my history is strong but my Bible stuff is pitiful. Your history ain’t gonna’ cut it, but your Bible stuff is first class. That sound about right?”
“By George, I think he’s got it!” said Davy as he lifted his glass toward Danny. Danny brought his glass to Davy’s.

Entering the Third Hour of the Last Third of My Life - It Has Been Good

Chapter 7 -
The following week, a truck backed up to Father Danny’s cabin at Camp Eden and two of the men from the camp began unloading Danny’s possessions and carrying them into the cabin. Preacher Davy heard the noise outside and came out just in time to see two large white oak rocking chairs being placed on the back of the truck.
“Why did you get those? I have two of them on my porch, you know that.”
“Yep, but have you ever thought I might cook supper sometimes and I don’t want to ask you to bring the chairs? Those things are heavy.”
“No, I haven’t thought about that because I’ve never known you to cook. So, honestly, it didn’t cross my mind.”
“Pardon me, Martha Stewart, let me rephrase that. Have you ever thought I might pick up something at McDonald’s–“
”Okay, that’s better. Mrs. Peele haggle with you on the chairs?”
“No, I thought about that. You bought the two chairs we had been using, so I went somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else?”
“Yea, same place Mrs. Peele bought hers, front porch of Cracker Barrel.”
“Cracker Barrel? That old fox told me they were handmade in the Adirondacks. That’s why I paid so much.”
“Hmmm, all I can think of is P.T. Barnum.”
“P.T. Barnum, you mean ‘There’s a sucker born every minute’.”
“I didn’t say it, you did.”
Davy just smiled, shook his head and picked up a box from the back of the truck.
Later that evening, Davy and Danny were sitting on Danny’s new porch when Mrs. Ramerez, another lady and a man came up carrying baskets of food.”
“Mrs. Ramerez, you shouldn’t have.”
“You and Padre Davy shouldn’t have done what you did for me and my daughter.”
“Have you talked to Ramona? How is she doing?” asked Danny.
“Fine, thanks to you two. It was a long trip, but she survived. She’ll be okay and the baby will be beautiful.”
“I thought we might hear something from Raul’s gang buddies, but evidently those gangs aren’t as close as I assumed.”
Mrs. Ramerez turned to the man and translated what Danny had just said into Spanish. The man grinned.
“Did I say something funny? Asked Danny.
“No, not really, I forgot, you and Padre Davy do not know.”
“Know what?” said Davy and Danny at the same time.
Mrs. Ramerez looked at the man and said “Tell them”.
The man laughed, shook his head and said something in Spanish. The man, Davy and Mrs. Ramerez roared with laughter.
“Come on, tell me.”
“It is funny,” said Davy. “They figured Raul’s gang buddies would be back, and they were, but a few of the men were there with shotguns to greet them at the gate. This happened for two nights and each night, while the men held the guns on the gang, someone went down the line of motorcycles slipping a knife into each one of their tires.”
“They didn’t come back?”
“Oh yes, two nights later, but if you will remember, beside the front gate there is a walkway.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“The walkway is just wide enough for a motorcycle to pass through.”
“Okay. Then they got in.”
“Only a few feet. Seems some boards with nails mysteriously appeared in the path. The gate was locked so several of the bandits roared through the walkway. Blam, blam, blam, blam. Every one of their tires.”
“So they got tired of that twenty mile hike back to town?”
“Very tired. Haven’t seen them since. But, in case they do, there’s some nice nail boards waiting,” said Mrs. Ramerez.
Mrs. Ramerez sat the food up on a small table on Danny’s front porch and the man set the two rocking chairs in place. Then, with nothing more said, the two motioned for Danny and Davy to sit.”
“I guess you’re moved in, Father West.”
“I guess I am, Preacher Tate.”
Davy shook his head and said, “When we were altar boys, way back then who would have ever figured you and I would have been here you an Episcopalian and me a damn Baptist?”
“That’s right, that’s what we used to call them, damn Baptists.”
“It’s been a long time, Davy.”
“Yes, but sitting here in this beautiful place–“
”I know. You’re right.”
“Not to change the subject,” said Danny, “but did you notice we had visitors at church Sunday.”
“Yea, six from St. Egbert’s and four from Meredith Baptist.”
“I don’t think we should make much of it. I have all ideas they were just curious. They want to know why would two upstanding ministers from two of the wealthiest churches in the city want to be with a bunch of migrant laborers?”
“Yea, and you, one of the best preachers–“
”You know, you keep saying that, and maybe it’s so, but have you figured you might be a damn good Episcopal priest?”
“What do you mean?”
“You might be good at what you do. No, maybe you aren’t the preacher Davy Tate is, but Davy Tate lost the enthusiasm for the communion and the ritual that you have a long time ago. That means that Davy Tate isn’t the priest that you are. You ever consider that?”
“No, can’t say that I have.”
“Well, start!”
Danny looked at Davy and nodded. “It’s good we can talk it, but are we doing the right thing for our people?”

Today Lunch

That afternoon, like most Sunday afternoons, Camp Eden was quiet. Some people had gone fishing, others had gone to town, but most were in their cabins resting for another week of hard work yet to come. Danny walked the few yards to Davy’s cabin. When he got there, Davy was in his rocking chair sipping a Coke. “Have you got another one of those?” he asked.
“Got one fresh and cold right here beside your chair.”
“You knew I was coming.”
“I sort of imagined you would be along.”
“You knew what was going to happen this morning.”
“Yep, I did.”
“How did you know?”
“You told me so.”
“Me?” questioned Danny.
“You said I was a good preacher.”
“You are. This morning proved it. But I wasn’t the one who needed proof. You did.”
“Then, I guess you were right.”
“We pick up the girl in the morning?”
“At ten o’clock.”
“Get enough for the ticket?”
“More than enough, you want to go with her?”
“Can’t say that I do, will there be enough for her to get by?”
“More than enough. We did good.”
“Yes, Padre Tait, we did good. No, back up. You did good.”
At ten o’clock the next morning Davy and Danny were parked outside the Mendez Apartment. A small Latino girl slipped out the front door and into the car. Within a half hour, she was on a bus to Mexico and to safety.
“We did good, Padre Danny?”
“We did good, Padre Davy.”
“I’ll be staying at the camp tonight,” said Danny.
“Why? The worst is over.”
“You think so? I don’t believe that tattooed behemoth who came to the car the other day would agree.”
“You think he’ll come tonight?”
“Yes, I believe he will.”
“What do we need to do?”
“That’s funny.”
“What’s funny?”
“That you would think I have the least idea.”
“Yea, that is funny.”
Yet, later that night, they heard a commotion from the direction of Mrs. Ramerez’ cabin. “Father West,” said Davy, “I do believe our guest has arrived.”
“Yes, Reverend Tate, I do believe you are right.”
The two rushed to Mrs. Ramerez’ cabin and saw Raul Mendez holding a knife to Mrs. Ramerez’ throat. “Tell me, bitch, where is she. I know she’s here.”
“Good evening, Raul,” said Danny as they walked through the door. “You seem to be an intelligent man and I’m sure you have looked around your mother-in-law’s cabin, now where in the hell could she hide anyone in this tiny cabin? Go ahead, look around.”
The man sort of grunted. He knew Danny was right.
“Put the knife down, stupid. Mrs. Menendez doesn’t know where her daughter is. Look at her, she’s terrified. If she knew, she would have already told you.”
The man looked at Mrs. Ramerez, once more grunted and lowered the knife. “That means you know where she is, then Padre,” he said as he lifted the knife toward Davy.
“Me, I don’t have the least idea,” he said as he moved away from the door and toward the back of the cabin.
Raul turned and pointed the knife toward Danny who was also drifting toward the back. “Then you know,” he said as he shook the knife toward Danny.
“Me?” said Danny. “Why would I know?”
“Somebody here knows where my wife is and if somebody don’t start talkin’ somebody’s gonna’ start dyin’”
“Now, Raul, aren’t you in enough trouble as it is? Why would you want to make it worse?”
“I ain’t in no trouble, you focks is the ones that’s in trouble. An’ if someone–“
”Raul,” said Danny, “I don’t believe the men standing behind you holding the guns would agree with you.”
“Real cute, Preacher man. Now, I’m supposed to turn around an’ you hit me in the head. Ain’t that the way it works? No, Padre, I ain’t that stupid. Ain’t nobody behind me.”
With nothing said, one of the men standing behind Raul tapped him on the shoulder with the barrel of his shotgun.
“Father Danny,” asked Davy, “isn’t this the place where somebody is supposed to imply how stupid it is to bring a knife to a gunfight?”
“You know, Pastor Davy, I believe it is. Now, Raul, if you’ll just sit there on the floor and let the men tie you up, I believe the Sheriff should be here soon. You won’t have to wait long. You should be in jail in plenty of time for breakfast. You should be there in time for a lot of breakfasts.”
“Go to hell, Padre. I ain’t goin’ to jail. You see, I ain’t done nothin’.” The man began to grin.”
“I don’t know about that Raul,” said Davy, “three counts of attempted murder should send you away for a long time.”
“I ain’t tried to murder you, or nobody else.”
“Now here, I would have to disagree with you, Raul. You pointed a knife at me. I believe that’s one count. Didn’t he point a knife at you, Father West?”
“That he did and shook it too. I saw murder in his eyes and I trembled for my life.”
“Sorry, Raul, that’s count two. And Mrs. Ramerez, that’s number three.”
“That old bitch ain’t testifying against no one. Look at her, she’s scared shitless.”
Mrs. Ramerez shook her head and smiled. “That is where you are wrong, son-in-law, you are going down.”
“Yea, Raul, I figure by the time you get out, you’ll have forgotten all about your wife.” Then Davy laughed. “Matter of fact, the way I hear it is in prison, by the time you get out, you’ll have forgotten about women entirely.” One of the men translated what Davy had said into Spanish and all the men laughed.
The two of them watched as the sheriff’s car moved away. “You shouldn’t have said what you did about how it’s going to be in prison for Raul,” said Danny.
“Why, it’s true.”
“I know it’s true, but I also know I’m going to have years of laughter from my mental picture of Raul and the boys.”

Looking Forward to Tomorrow

Sunday came and, as was becoming usual, Danny did the first part of the service in his tried and true Episcopal way, after he read the scripture, he moved into a chair to the side of the altar. There, he was joined by a lady who had been translating Danny’s words into Spanish for the congregation. From here on, she would be translating Davy’s Spanish words to Danny alone. She slipped into the seat beside him. Preacher Davy stood and walked toward the pulpit. Davy stepped behind the pulpit and slowly looked at those sitting before him. In Spanish he said, “Buenos Dias.” meaning “Good Morning.”
The congregation responded “Buenos Dias.”
Davy began his sermon. “We have a problem,” he shouted, “I am not telling you anything you do not know. In a community like ours, news travels fast and is surprisingly accurate. One of our own is about to lose her granddaughter, a granddaughter she has never met and a granddaughter she will never meet if we don’t do something and do it now.”
Davy became silent and looked around the church. Then he spoke. “I was taught years ago that when a problem occurs, the first place to look, the best place, is in the Bible. This I have done. In the Bible it says ‘An eye for an eye’. But, a few hundred pages later, Jesus tells us that if someone strikes us on the right cheek we should turn the other cheek.” Again, a moment of silence followed by, “Which is it? This is confusing.”
Several in the congregation looked at each other and nodded.
“In Genesis and throughout the entire old testament for that matter, God kills his enemies. He rains brimstone down on Sodom and Gamora and kills every man, woman and child in those two cities. Then, he kills Pharaoh’s entire army by drowning them in the Red Sea. Okay, fair enough, we kill the man who is threatening this woman’s granddaughter. We’ve never killed anyone before, but God is telling us to do it. That’s what we’ll do. We will kill the man.”
The eyes of people in the congregation widened and people began to dart looks at each other. The people begin to shift in their seats. They were becoming extremely uncomfortable.
“Then, I read, ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ God is now telling me that it would be wrong to kill this man. I am more confused. No, the answer is not in the Bible. If it's not in the Bible, where is it?”
Davy shakes his head then says, “I’m sure some of us have thought about this matter and prayed. Prayer is good. Prayer is one of the foundations of our faith, but unfortunately, prayer is not very time sensitive. Though our situation today is worse, much worse, it does remind me of something that occurred years ago at a former church. It was the middle of the winter and one of the members of the Sunday school stood and said a lady in their church was about to have her electricity turned off because she couldn’t pay the bill. She needed ninety-seven dollars. After some discussion, the leader of the class stood and announced that they would pray for the woman, and he began moving onto something else. One of the men in the class stood, obviously concerned, and said, ‘Wait just a minute. The power company doesn’t want a prayer. They want money. It’s cold outside, and if we care in the least about this woman, that is what we need to give her, money, not prayer.’ The class realized the man was right, passed the hat, and helped the woman pay her bill.”
Davy started getting louder.
“People, that is what we are facing now. We don’t need to pray. We need to do something to take this dear woman’s daughter out of harm’s way. We need to buy her a ticket to someplace safe. To where, I won’t say. What she will do when she gets there, I don’t know. But what I do know is that her child will not be murdered.” Davy emphasized the word “murdered” at the top of his voice.
“No, I couldn’t find the answer in the Bible, it wasn’t there, but God gave us something even greater than the Bible, much greater than the Bible, he gave us the ability to think and he gave us a heart to love our fellow man.”
Then, Davy almost whispered, “And I ask you now, what does your God given ability to think and your God given ability to love tell you to do?”
Davy shouted, “It tells you, and it tells me, to help this woman. It is something we can do, me and you, NOW!”
Even louder Davy screamed, “Together we can prevent a murder. I don’t know about you, but I have never had an opportunity to stop a murder. I don’t know if I’ll ever have it again, but I do know one thing, opportunity is knocking. It’s knocking loud, and I’m opening the door!”
Davy literally ran to the back of the church, grabbed one of the offering baskets and threw his money inside. He handed the basket to man who did the same and passed the basket along. Another man stood, went to the back and passed the other baskets out to the people. In a matter of seconds, one of the baskets overflowed and money fell to the floor. Someone went out the door and returned with a cardboard box and began dumping in the contents of the collection baskets. People were writing checks, everyone in the church was smiling. Everyone knew they were doing something good.
Danny looked in total disbelief. Davy knew that what was happening would happen. He knew it the week before. He knew it when they were in Ramona Mendez’ apartment. Davy knew these things and somehow, Danny knew that at that very moment, God was watching.

Now, we move along further

The next day saw Davy and Danny pulling up to the address Mrs. Ramerez had given them. It was a less than seedy neighborhood with gang graffiti painted on every wall.
“It may be better if we can just get the girl out of this neighborhood,” said Danny.
“I agree,” said Davy, “no child should have to grow up in a place like this.”
They went to the door and knocked. A voice from inside asked who was knocking. “Father Daniel West and Pastor David Tait, Mrs. Mendez.”
“I have no money, what do you want?” the voice asked.
“Your mother asked us to come by.”
The door slowly opened and a very young, very pretty Latino face peered through the slight opening. “My mother asked you to come?”
“Yes, your mother Mrs. Ramerez.”
The door opened the rest of the way and the girl said, “Please come in.”
The apartment had few things, but what little was there was neat and tidy. In the corner a candle burned in front of a picture of Jesus.
“Why did my mother ask you to come?” asked the girl.
“She said you were expecting,” said Davy, “that you were going to have a baby,”
“There is no baby, she was mistaken.” the girl began crying.
“She told us about your husband, Mrs. Mendez. We know.”
The girl sat down.
“My husband is a very mean man. Did she tell you what would happen if he caught me talking about it?”
“I believe we know, Ramona. It is Ramona, isn’t it?”
“Si.”
“That is a lovely name,” said Davy.
The girl was visibly shaking. “I am scared, Padres. I do not know what to do. My husband wishes me to kill my child. If I do not, he will. I am scared.”
“One question, Ramona, do you want to keep your child?” asked Davy.
“Oh yes, Padre, but it is impossible. I have–“
”Another question.”
“Si.”
“Are you willing to leave your husband?”
“Si, I have made a terrible mistake. He is not the man I married. He is mean. He is bad. Did my mother tell you he was in a gang?”
“Yes.”
“They call themselves the Diablos. Do you know what Diablo means?”
“I believe it is Spanish for Devil.”
“That is right and they are devils. They are straight from hell and my husband is one of the worst.”
“If we could make arrangements to get you to a safe place where you would be away from this man and keep your baby, would you be willing to leave?”
“Willing? I have prayed for such an opportunity.”
“When would the best time for you to leave?”
“It must be soon.”
“Your mother said this week. Could you get away Monday?”
“Si, he leaves and goes to meet the other members of the gang at a service station. He leaves every morning and does not return until night. He rides by many times a day, but he seldom stops.”
“If we are here at ten o’clock Monday morning, could you come out front and get into our car?”
“Si, oh yes, si, Padre.”
“Don’t bring anything with you. If he should come home early for any reason and sees you have not taken your things, he will think you are off visiting. It may give us the time we need. Can you do that?”
“At ten o’clock and I bring nothing, si. I will be ready. Bless you Padres. Bless you.”
“We must go now, but we will be here when I said. Tell no one and I mean no one. Understand?”
“I understand, Padre, I will do as you say. Gracias, gracias.”
Davy and Danny left the apartment and as they were walking, a loud car drove into the front yard and a man jumped out. “Who the fock are you? You were leaving my house.”
“You must be Raul, Raul Mendez,” said Davy.
The man was covered with tattoos and body piercings. His very look was terrifying.
“I asked you who the fock you are? Repeated the man, “and what you were doing in my house?”
“I am Padre Davy and this is Padre Danny and we were here to invite you to church. The lord misses you, my son.”
“Invite me to church, huh?” The man laughed. “Keep going, Padres, and as far as the lord, he can keep missing me.” The man continued laughing, shook his head, jumped into the car and roared away.
“It appears we have met the Devil,” said Danny as they got into their car.
 “I think we have,” responded Davy, “and I must admit, he is more terrifying than I imagined.”
“Now, Preacher Davy, let me understand this. It appears we are going to be picking up the girl Monday at ten.”
“It appears.”
“And we’re going to do what with her?”
“We’re going to put her on a bus to her aunt’s house in Mexico.”
“That is a wonderful idea,” said Danny, “I suppose you have the money for the ticket?”
“Not exactly.”
“By not exactly, how much have you got?”
“Close as I can figure, nothing.”
“Great, and I have nothing. If I remember my math correctly, nothing plus nothing is what . . . nothing?”
“Have you ever noticed that you worry too much?” smiled Davy.
“I suppose you have a plan.”
“Oh yes.”
“Would you mind letting me in on it?”
“You said I was a good preacher.”
“Yes, so?”
“Sunday we’ll know.”
“Davy, how much money is in the Sunday collection at Camp
Eden? You are talking about Camp Eden aren’t you?”
“Yes. Usually twenty-five maybe thirty dollars.”
“A ticket to Mexico cost almost four hundred. I checked yesterday.”
“Right. We should be okay.”
“As usual, you’re making absolutely no sense, but that’s okay, I know when to shut up.”
Danny smiled to himself.

A New Week

“Why is that, Mrs. Ramerez?” asked Danny.
“The man she married, a low life by the name of Raul, says she must have. . . she must have, an abortion.”
“An abortion, Mrs. Ramerez, why is that. I thought Hispanic people loved their children,” commented Davy.
“We do. We adore children. But this man, this filth my daughter married, is a member of a gang. The gang members take pride in the number of sons they can father.”
“I take for granted the baby is a girl,” said Danny.
Mrs. Ramerez slowly nodded.
“When my daughter told Raul of the great news, his first words were that she must get rid of ‘the thing’. He called my baby granddaughter ‘the thing’. He said there was no time to waste having the baby. She should get rid of it and they would keep trying. Next time it would be a boy.”
Mrs. Ramerez covered her face and wept.
“Mrs. Ramerez,” asked Danny, “does your daughter, Ramona I believe you said, want to keep the baby.”
“Oh yes, Padre, she is heartbroken. She would leave him, but where would she go. With me is no good. He would find her.”
“The decision on whether or not to keep the baby is your daughter’s, Mrs. Ramerez. He has no say in that.”
“I wish it were so, Padre, but he gave her a week to get rid of ‘the thing’ and told her if she didn’t, he would. Raul has told her he will kill the baby, he will kill my granddaughter. She has no money, what can she do, Padres? I do not mean to burden you with–“
”Your problem is no burden, Mrs. Ramerez,” said Davy. He looked at Danny. “Mrs. Ramerez, may I ask you a question?”
“Si.”
“Is your daughter willing to leave her husband?”
“Si, Padre, but there is nowhere she can go. I have a sister in Mexico. She would be safe there, but it is so far. It costs much money.”
Again, Davy looked at Danny. Danny nodded once.
Davy touched Mrs. Ramerez’ shoulder. “I know some people who may be able to help. Would it be alright if Padre Danny and I went to see your daughter?”
“Oh, Padre, would you? That would be so wonderful if you know such people.”
“We will go, if you would give us the address of your daughter and your sister.” Davy went inside and returned with a pencil and paper. The lady wrote the addresses on the paper and handed it to Davy.
“We will see what can be done, Good Lady, now go home and try to sleep. Leave it up to us,” Said Davy.
“And to God,” said Mrs. Ramerez.
“Si, and to God,” said Davy.
The two watched Mrs. Ramerez go down the path.
“I wonder if it’s the same gang that we dealt with at Greenwood Village?” asked Davy.
“I doubt it. I believe most of them are in prison.”
“We go tomorrow?” asked Davy.
“We go tomorrow,” nodded Danny.

A New Week

“Why is that, Mrs. Ramerez?” asked Danny.
“The man she married, a low life by the name of Raul, says she must have. . . she must have, an abortion.”
“An abortion, Mrs. Ramerez, why is that? I thought Hispanic people loved their children,” commented Davy.
“We do. We adore children. But this man, this filth my daughter married, is a member of a gang. The gang members take pride in the number of sons they can father.”
“I take for granted the baby is a girl,” said Danny.
Mrs. Ramerez slowly nodded.
“When my daughter told Raul of the great news, his first words were that she must get rid of ‘the thing’. He called my baby granddaughter ‘the thing’. He said there was no time to waste having the baby. She should get rid of it and they would keep trying. Next time it would be a boy.”
Mrs. Ramerez covered her face and wept.
“Mrs. Ramerez,” asked Danny, “does your daughter, Ramona I believe you said, want to keep the baby.”
“Oh yes, Padre, she is heartbroken. She would leave him, but where would she go. With me is no good. He would find her.”
“The decision on whether or not to keep the baby is your daughter’s, Mrs. Ramerez. He has no say in that.”
“I wish it were so, Padre, but he gave her a week to get rid of ‘the thing’ and told her if she didn’t, he would. Raul has told her he will kill the baby, he will kill my granddaughter. She has no money, what can she do, Padres? I do not mean to burden you with–“
”Your problem is no burden, Mrs. Ramerez,” said Davy. He looked at Danny. “Mrs. Ramerez, may I ask you a question?”
“Si.”
“Is your daughter willing to leave her husband?”
“Si, Padre, but there is nowhere she can go. I have a sister in Mexico. She would be safe there, but it is so far. It costs much money.”
Again, Davy looked at Danny. Danny nodded once.
Davy touched Mrs. Ramerez’ shoulder. “I know some people who may be able to help. Would it be alright if Padre Danny and I went to see your daughter?”
“Oh, Padre, would you? That would be so wonderful if you know such people.”
“We will go, if you would give us the address of your daughter and your sister.” Davy went inside and returned with a pencil and paper. The lady wrote the addresses on the paper and handed it to Davy.
“We will see what can be done, Good Lady, now go home and try to sleep. Leave it up to us,” Said Davy.
“And to God,” said Mrs. Ramerez.
“Si, and to God,” said Davy.
The two watched Mrs. Ramerez go down the path.
“I wonder if it’s the same gang that we dealt with at Greenwood Village?” asked Davy.
“I doubt it. I believe most of them are in prison.”
“We go tomorrow?” asked Davy.
“We go tomorrow,” nodded Danny.

Thursday

And Davy did get his front porch at his cabin at Camp Eden ready. In two days he was completely moved in. To celebrate the move, Danny stopped by the Colonel’s and got chicken, slaw and mashed potatoes.
As he pulled up to the front of Davy’s cabin, Davy came out the door.
“I saw your headlights. Is the front porch at Mrs. Peele’s getting lonely?”
“Oh, you just don’t know. You moved off the front porch and Mrs. Ledbetter took your place. I now know more about hysterectomies and arthritis than any third year medical student. I know what kind of medicine controls what and how many milligrams of each is prescribed. Incidently, I brought chicken.”
“You shouldn’t have. One thing I have discovered over the past couple of days is these people do feed their saints well.”
“If you don’t want it, I’ll–“
”Oh yes, I want it. Something without a chili pepper would be wonderful.”
The two finished their dinner and moved out onto the front porch. As Danny began to sit, he jerked up and looked at the chair. “Did you steal these chairs from Mrs. Peele’s.”
“Steal them? No. If anything she did a number on me. I could have gotten them made out of some exotic wood by a distant relative of Chippendale for what she made me pay for these chairs, but she said they were our chairs and she knew they had sentimental value. She charged me for every bit of that sentiment.”
“You are a softy.”
“Yes, I am.”
The two began rocking and Davy was telling Danny of how it was living at Camp Eden when a lady came to the steps.
“Good evening, Mrs. Ramerez. It’s good to see you. You know Padre West.”
“Si. Good to see you also. I hate to bother you but–“
”Father Danny, Mrs. Ramerez is one of the finest cooks in Camp Eden. When I get to four hundred pounds, it will be her fault. Mrs. Ramerez, please sit. Tell us what is on your mind. Davy stood to offer the lady his chair.”
“No, Padre. I would prefer to just sit on the steps.”
It soon became obvious why Mrs. Ramerez wanted to sit on the steps facing away from the two ministers. She was crying. “My daughter Ramona married a very detestable man. I told her when she first showed me the man he was no good. Now, she knows it. She is pregnant with my first grandchild and I should be overjoyed, but I am not.”

Wednesday Morning

“I’m just saying it. Who knows what she thinks? But, the important thing is before long, we’re going to have to get down to business at the camp.”
“Down to business?”
“Yea, little things like confessions.”
“Confessions?”
“Yea, remember confessions?”
“Oh, I had forgotten about those.”
“You might have, but I can promise you the people at the camp haven’t, and you’re going to have to hear all of them?”
“Why am I going to have to hear all of them?”
“Because, until I learn Spanish, someone could confess being the second shooter on the grassy knoll and I would probably tell them to say three Hail Mary’s and a Lord’s Prayer and be done with it.”
“Yea, I see what you mean. But, you are learning some Spanish.”
“What do you mean?”
“The other morning when Mr. Fuentes was asking us questions you answered most of them with ‘si’. You are learning Spanish.”
Danny smiled. “I guess I am.”
“Si.”
“I do worry about the confessions though. I remember when we were in the sixth grade having to walk into the confessional. How many eleven year olds have sinned?”
“I don’t know about that. Seems like about then you and I were doing some pretty shady things.”
“Maybe so, but I had a hard time thinking that a God who could wipe out Sodom and Gamora or drown all of Pharaoh’s men in the Red Sea would think locking Benny Wilson in the broom closet until he coughed up Peggy Turner’s homework was a capital crime.”
“You mean having to go to confession and not having anything to confess?” grinned Davy. “Okay, I’m with you, but I had that figured out. Three or four generic sins, unclean thoughts, late for church, things like that and then if I had lied three times, I just tacked another lie on for what I was saying then. Worked every time.”
Danny laughed, but then his smile faded. “Davy, are we biting off more than we can chew?”
“What do you mean?”
“These people. They’re different. For my good Episcopalian congregation, the church, everything it does, hell, everything I do, is just an ornament on their coffee table. They wear being an Episcopalian like a great big sign on their chest. . . ‘Look At Me, I’m An Episcopalian. I’m Better Than You’. But the people at the camp, they’re different. God is a part of their lives. They sincerely want to be good and do the right thing. That’s why they’re here, they’re trying to do better for their families. There’s just something pure about them. I don’t want to let them down.”
“I know what you’re saying. Your Episcopalians are better than everyone else and my Baptists are holier than everyone else. It’s the same thing. You’re just a trinket on their table. I’m a hood ornament on a great big car with ‘Look At Me, I’m Holy’ painted in great big letters on the side. Are we doing the right thing? Danny, I think for the first time in a long time, we are doing EXACTLY the right thing. Are we biting off more than we can chew? No. We’ve been in training for this since that morning so long ago that you tripped Jimmy Dempsey in the hall. I’ll never forget what you told him. I can hear it just as clearly as the day you said it, ‘Look you little son-of-a-bitch, I ever see you taking a pencil out of Emily Drake’s pencil box again, you will wish to God you hadn’t’. You even scared me.”
Davy was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “I don’t know why you and I do the things we do. I don’t know why we did them back then. But, we do and we are damn good at it. Mr. Fuentes would say it’s a God-given talent and I don’t know if it is or if it’s not, but there are people out there who need us, they don’t have anyone else.”
Then it was Danny’s turn to be quiet until Davy broke the silence. “I didn’t mean to upset you, that’s just the way I feel,” he said.
“Oh no, no, no, you’re one hundred percent right, but that’s not what I was thinking about.”
“Then why did you get so quiet?”
“I was just thinking, if that second shooter on the grassy knoll does confess to me, how many Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s should I give him?”
Davy shook his head, stood and went inside. In a minute he came back with two glasses and handed one to Danny.
“Oh, we going to have a bit of evening refreshment?”
“Yea, but this time it’s Coke. We need to be thinking clearly on what we need to do.”
“You’re right,” said Danny. My suggestion is, you’re okay with your church, why don’t you move down to the camp. And, as soon as I find out for certain what the Bishop wants to do, I’ll come along too.”
“That quick and simple?”
“That quick and simple.”
“This porch is going to be a lonely place without me.”
“You think I haven’t thought of that? Best thing you can do is to get your porch at the camp ready.”
“Yea.”

We're Baaack!

Fuentes escorted them to the church and closed the door behind them. Danny looked around at the beautiful place that surrounded them. “That old fox,” he said.
“Look around us, the place is more inspiring that Saint Peters in Rome. It’s soft, it’s gentle. . .”
“Are you saying it’s Godlike,” smiled Davy.
“I guess I am,” answered Danny.
The two sat there silently for a long while. “Damnit, Davy, blurted out Danny. Isn’t this what we wanted all along? When I was a Catholic I didn’t want to be a priest in Rome. When I became an Episcopalian, I didn’t aspire to be the Archbishop of Canterbury. Unless I miss my bet, you have never had one desire to be... wherever the top Baptist is.”
Davy smiled. “Wherever the top Baptist is?” He laughed. “No, I never had a desire to be the top Baptist.”
“Then, isn’t this what we wanted, to be surrounded by good people in a gentle place like this?”
“You can’t speak the language.”
“No, but I can learn.”
“You would have to leave your church.”
“What, a bunch of self-centered people whose only accomplishment in life was to be born to Episcopal parents? I promise you, that would not be a problem. You would have to leave your congregation.”
“Yes, Baptists are good people. They are the friendliest people in the world, but no matter who you are, there always seems to be a hand held up between you and them. Besides, what would you think of a good Baptist sermon in Spanish?”
“It might be interesting.”
Danny looked at Davy. “Have we made our decision?”
“No, I still can’t go with this thing of them giving us everything.”
“No, I forgot about that. No, that won’t work.”
“Why don’t we call Fuentes back in?”
“Okay, I’ll go get him.”
Danny went to the door. Fuentes was seated on the steps. “Mr. Fuentes, can we talk?”
Fuentes came inside and sat between Davy and Danny.
“Signor Fuentes, a couple of questions.”
“Si,” he nodded.
“I’m sure the people here were raised as Roman Catholics.”
“Si,” again responded Fuentes.”
“Neither of us are Roman Catholics.”
“This concerns you?” the old man asked.
“It would if it would concern your people.”
“Padre Danny, have you ever been outside on a clear summer night and looked into the sky?”
“Si,” answered Danny.
“You saw millions. . . billions of stars.”
“Si, I did.”
“Languages, rituals, vestments, even the hundreds of versions of the Bible itself are all contrivances of man. Do you really believe that anything capable of creating the magnificence you behold when you look into that night sky could care less about such things? As long as you speak of God with the love he deserves, that is all that matters.”
Danny looked at Davy, “Whew,” thought both of them.
“You said two questions,” smiled Fuentes in a gentle way.
“Yes, Pastor Davy and I may sometimes be gone for a while–“
”Helping others as you have helped us?”
Danny’s face jerked toward Davy. Both men’s eyes showed their total surprise. It took a second for Fuentes’ words to completely register before both men slowly nodded yes.
“This week, when you performed your miracle for us, it took time away from others, we know this. We thank the ones you couldn’t be with for understanding.”
“But sir, That was only a day, not even a full day. We may be talking about several days or weeks.”
“An hour, a day, a week. . . a year, does it really matter? Each morning, someone will step into the church and light a candle to let God know that you will return soon.”
“Whew,” whispered Danny to Davy, “did you just have a chill?”
“Oh yes.”
Davy looked at Danny. Danny’s face said all Davy needed to know. “Signor Fuentes, could we apply for the position of pastors of your church.”
“Why would you apply? The church, it is yours.”
“No, this we cannot accept. It is too much, just the salary you mentioned will be more than sufficient.”
“I did not mention an amount.”
“No, but it will be sufficient.”
“We have for years wanted the church and the camp to be the our gift to the Messiah,” he smiled, “the Messiah’s.”
“Unfortunately sir, we are not Messiahs. We are just men and would like to continue as that, men helping others.” Danny handed the deed back to Fuentes. Fuentes pushed it away.
“No, please keep it. It is where it should be.”
“Signor Fuentes, you are a hard man, and don’t think asking us to come into the church to talk went unnoticed.”
Fuentes smiled, stood and went to the back of the church. There, he grabbed a rope hanging through the ceiling and began pulling it. The sound of a bell peeled through the camp and through the countryside. Their church had found a pastor, no, pastors.
Davy pushed open the door and dozens of people were outside. They began to cheer.
“Why do I feel like white smoke is probably drifting over the Vatican?” whispered Danny.
Davy nodded and whispered, “Why do I feel like we just had a conversation with God?”

More

As Pedro moved away, the front door to his cabin opened and a beautiful young woman stepped outside carrying two coffee cups. She stepped to the ground and handed Davy and Danny the cups. She said something in Spanish.
Davy looked at Danny. “This is Pedro’s wife, Juanita. She says she is honored to have us visit her home.”
With that, she hugged the two ministers and returned inside.
Danny crossed his legs and took a sip of his coffee. “These are the huggingest people I have ever seen. I think it’s wonderful.”
“I do too, don’t you wish everyone was that way?”
“I can promise you one thing, this would be a much better world.”
“Yes, and it looks like Pedro is back with Signor Fuentes.”
Pedro introduced the old gentleman.
“Pedro, please explain to Signor Fuentes that we are honored, but feel we have done nothing to deserve what your people have given us.”
“I have explained this to Signor Fuentes, and he understands English.”
“Sir,” said Davy, “Please understand it is no disrespect for your more than generous gift, but we cannot accept it, it is too much.”
“You would do what you have done and expect nothing in return?”
“Sir, Signor Fuentes, we have been doing this kind of thing all our lives. When we were children, we used to give bullies a bloody nose for taking the other kid’s lunch money. For us, it’s just the thing to do. We expect nothing, we ask for nothing.”
“I understand. I have listened to you. Now, will you listen to me?”
“Certainly, Sir.”
“Many years ago my people came to this area to pick your crops, to tend your fields, to do your work. We were greeted with less than human places to sleep, terrible housing, beds full of bugs and vermin and unimaginable conditions. Sometimes it was worse than what we had left at home. Several people said 'no'  to what was offered and knowing that they would be returning year after year, started the place you see here. I am told it began with two cabins on a single acre of land. Over the years, it has grown to what you see here now. Each person who comes here pays a small amount to stay. Though it is small, that amount pays for the upkeep and maintenance. That way, if someone wishes to return here year after year, he has a clean, decent place to live. Some have decided to stay here. And here, they are around their own people. They are happy.”
“Yes, Mr. Fuentes, but–“
”No, let me finish. The one, I believe you people say ‘the bug in the ointment’–“
”The fly in the ointment,” injected Davy.
“Yes,” smiled Fuentes. “The fly in the ointment is our church. It is a beautiful church. It is a place to feel close to God. Yet, none of your people wish to be a part of our church. Oh, some do-gooder missionaries come here off and on, but they are soon gone because they want no part of us strange people with our strange language and strange customs.”
Davy and Danny looked at each other. It was sad.
Fuentes continued, “Years ago, we were told that things were the way they were and if we made trouble, I believe you say ‘made waves’ we would have to leave this country. So, we made no waves. We accepted what was offered. At the same time, what you call an urban legend began. The legend said that one day, a man would come who did not fear the landowners, or the police, and he would make things better for our people. We have waited for this man for years, this Messiah, and you two are that Messiah. For years, we have waited for this man and have built this place with the plan to give it to him. The money the people pay is more than enough to keep the church in better than excellent repair, and. . . more than enough to provide our padre with adequate needs.”
“Whew,” said Danny as he sipped the last of his coffee.
“Whew is right,” agreed Davy. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Mr. Fuentes,” said Danny, I don’t know what to say about this Messiah thing. I assure you we are not Messiahs and God did not send us here. You call this place Camp Eden.”
“Yes, Eden, the beginning,” said the old man. “It is a place for a good life in a wonderful new country. And as far as God not sending you here, something did. How would you explain it? Something made you stop where the men were picking peaches, how are you certain it wasn’t God?”
“You were told about the incident at the orchard?”
“We all know about it.”
Danny looked at Davy, neither knew what to say.
“Might I suggest the two of you go into the church and speak with each other. Give me a minute and I will have it prepared.”
Fuentes motioned to two of the several people who had gathered around. They scurried off toward the church.
“Will you do that for me, Padres? Will you talk with each other in the church?”
Davy and Danny nodded.

Moving Forward

The next couple of hours were spent greeting people and sharing time together. When they finally got back into Pedro’s truck for the trip home, Danny said, “Pedro, you know your people did far more for us than we did for them. You know that, Don’t you?”
Pedro thought for a minute, then said, “No, I do not know that Padre. You and Pastor Davy were the first people in this country to even treat us as humans. Others smiled at us when they wanted much labor for little money. Like the man said tonight, you smiled at us, gave us a miracle, then went away. No, I do not know that, Padre.”
When the two arrived at Mrs. Peele’s, most of the lights were out. Everyone was asleep. Danny and Davy took seats on the front porch.
Danny rocked back in the chair. “It looks like we have the world’s first Baptist Episcopal church. My question is, what do we do with it?”
“Danny, I don’t want to get too gushy in the God stuff, but that church was given to us for a reason. You think maybe God does want us to do something special with it?”
“Oh, I have no doubt he does, but what?”
“That, my friend, I have no idea, but we do owe those people Sunday services. If you want to go Episcopal, I can get a Spanish book of Common Prayer and be good to go. And since you can speak Spanish and I can’t, and you are so damn good at preaching, I guess we have the Baptist part pretty well covered. But, what we don’t have covered is two congregations in town who may not appreciate their pastors moonlighting.”
“Ohhh, I hadn’t thought about that,” said Davy, But you know something, I believe that’s one of those bridges we’ll just have to cross when we get there.”
The two stood, shouted a muffled, “Yes,” and jumped up giving each other a high-five. When they did, an envelope fell out of Davy’s back pocket onto the floor.
“What’s that?” questioned Danny.
“Something Pedro gave me tonight at the church, but to be honest, I was so emotional I forgot about it.”
“Probably a card or something,” said Davy as he sat back down.
“Yea, probably, but I didn’t know Hallmark had cards for occasions like tonight.”
Danny watched Davy read what was in the envelope. Davy turned totally white and said, “Danny, Saint Davy’s and Saint Daniel’s. . .”
“The church, yes, what about it?”
“Did you know it was on nineteen acres of land?”
“How would I know that? How would you know it?”
“Because it’s right here on the deed.”
“The deed?”
“Yes, a deed made out to Reverend David Tate and Reverend Daniel West. Dude, tonight when they said ‘Padres we give you this church with our gratitude,’ they actually gave us the church, hell, they gave us the whole camp.”
“No, no, no,” said Danny, “that’s not right.”
“You look at it then,” said Davy as he handed the paper to Danny.
Danny looked at the sheet of paper and turned as white as Davy. He began shaking his head. “No, we didn’t do this for any kind of personal gain. It’s never been for personal gain.”
“You’re right, we would never do it for money.”
“I think the best thing for us to do is to be at that camp in the morning. We need to straighten this out. This is just wrong.”
“I agree. We need to be at the camp in the morning at sunrise. I guess that’s when they leave for work.”
“Can we even find the place, it was out in the country, do you remember how to get there?”
“No, but the address is right there on the deed. Somebody can tell us how to get there.”
As the sun lifted over the woods, Davy and Danny pulled in the road to the camp. There was a neat sign beside the road they hadn’t noticed the night before, “Camp Eden”. Sitting on a hill in the center of the camp was a beautiful white church and the sign they had seen inside the night before had been placed in the front. The gold leaf letters of “Saint David and Saint Daniel Baptist Episcopal Church” glowed in the morning sun. The two sat silent in the car looking at the sight.
Danny broke the spell, “We need to find Pedro,” he said. Just then a man came out onto the lawn and lit a cigarette. “I’ll go ask that guy,” said Danny.
“Oh, you’ve learned Spanish now?” said Davy as he opened the car door and stepped out.
Danny watched Davy speak with the man and he got a lump in his throat as he watched the man pull Davy to him and give him a hug. Davy returned to the car, “Down the path, third cabin from the front. The man said there is a cross on the door.”
“Why am I not surprised?” commented Danny.
They drove to the house and tapped on the door. A yawning Pedro came to the door obviously surprised to have visitors.
“Pedro, can we talk?”
“Si, Padre. Please come, sit.” Pedro motioned them to the edge of the small porch in the front of his cabin.
“Is something wrong, Padres. Have we done something to–“
”No, Pedro,” began Davy, “nothing is wrong. Yes, something is wrong. It looks like your people gave us the church and the camp.”
“Si,” said Pedro matter-of-factly.
“We have done nothing, and I mean nothing, to deserve such a great honor.”
As Davy was speaking, Danny looked at the camp. Labor camps were always the property of a landowner and were the least that could be offered. But here, there were no ramshackle cabins or block barracks, just neat rows of small, neatly painted cabins sitting on neatly trimmed grass. If anything, the camp was pristine.
Pedro looked confused. “May I go get Signor Fuentes, he is a wise man and can explain much better than me.”
“Yes, please, my friend, do.”

Fourth of July

Let's see... Doug is headed for the mountains, Donn just got back from Wilmington, Phil just did a wedding in Middlesex, I think I'll go to Simms, I don't want to appear homebound.

All Mrs. Peele’s borders were sitting around the table the next Friday evening when the doorbell rang. Mrs. Peele went to the door and when she returned she said it was for Father Daniel and Pastor David. The two went to the door and greeted two men on the porch. One was Pedro, they remembered him from the incident at Tyson’s orchard.

“Pastor Davy, Padre Danny, it would be our honor if you would come with us.”

Davy pulled Danny to the side. “Didn’t you tell them to forget who we are?”

“I told every man when I gave them their money to enjoy the money and forget how it came about.”

“Obviously the message didn’t sink in. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t think we have a choice. We’ll go with them now, see what they want and maybe that will be the end of it.”

“You think so?” asked Davy.

“I don’t know, I don’t see that we have any choice but to give it a try.”

“Where you want to go, Pedro?” inquired Davy.

“We have a small thank you supper at our camp we would like to share with you.”

“See, no big deal,” said Danny. “A little dinner. It sounds nice. We’ll go, eat, say our thank you’s and that will be it.”

Davy smiled and nodded.

“Pedro, we told you we expected nothing. I believe Padre Danny told every man to forget it.”

“Si, this is true, but just a little supper for all you have done seems so little.”

Davy looked at Danny and lifted his eyebrows. What would a supper hurt?

As they pulled into the camp, they saw what these people called a small supper. There were hundreds of people, three Mariachi bands wandering through the crowd and tables of food everywhere.

“Yea, a small supper,” said Danny.

Davy and Danny pulled Pedro to the side. “Pedro, what is all this?” asked Danny. “Didn’t I tell each of your men we expected nothing?”

“Si Padre Danny, and I promise you that outside of these people your names will never be mentioned, but inside our group, you two are saints.”

Danny leaned over and whispered into Davy’s ear. “I guess, Saint Davy, we may as well enjoy it.”

“Do we have a choice?” whispered Davy.

Pedro guided the two through the sea of smiling faces and outstretched hands every one wanting to greet them and say thank you. There were tears, smiles and laughter. Repeatedly, the two ministers looked at each other. They couldn’t believe the outpouring. Eventually, Pedro inched the two to seats at the center of a long table and motioned for them to be seated.

For the next half hour, food of every description was placed in front of them. The two were overwhelmed. Then, seemingly from an unheard signal, the bands stopped playing and everyone became silent. A small Latino man with a thick moustache stood and held his glass up to Davy and Danny. He spoke in Spanish, so Davy interpreted for Danny.

“Gentlemen, Padres, tonight we say thank you and bless you. The people who sit before you cannot tell you of their appreciation for what you have done. We, those of us before you, have much in common. We came to this strange place, with its strange language for one reason, to give the families we love a better life. We took the jobs your people did not want because even though they may have been below your people, the jobs meant the money to buy things for our people. We were spit on, we were disrespected we were hated, but it did not matter because it was a small price to pay to give our families a better life.”

Once more, the man lifted his glass to the two, then continued. “Then one day, God sent two men our way. Two men who did not despise us for what we are, but respected us as fellow human beings. They gave us much then quietly went on their way. They gave us a miracle and asked we tell no one. What kind of men are these? We do not know, but we do know they are truly gifts from God. Please accept this evening and these gifts from a truly grateful people.”

The man again stood and lifted his glass. Davy and Danny followed his lead, but a lead made difficult by the tears that were blinding their eyes.

One of the mariachi bands began playing a soft, but reverent tune. Pedro stood beside them. “There is one more thing,” he said.

“Thank you, Pedro, but I couldn’t eat another thing,” grinned Davy.

“Me neither,” said Danny. “This night has been–“

”No, this is not food, would you come with us?”

Two young ladies stepped up behind Davy and Danny and placed blindfolds on their eyes and gently tied them behind their heads. Neither man knew what to say, and only smiled. 

Pastor Davy an Father Danny were taken by the hand and led a short distance. Unseen by them, the hundreds of people present that night followed silently. In time, everyone stopped and Pedro asked, “Are you ready?”

The two had no idea what Pedro was talking about but smiled and said “Yes.”

When their blindfolds were lifted, they stood in the door of a small but gloriously decorated church. Candlelight flooded the sanctuary. In front of them was a beautifully carved sign, “Saint David and Saint Daniel Baptist Episcopal Church”. In the front was an altar with a small sign “Padre Danny” and to the right was an ornately carved pulpit with a simple “Pastor Davy” sign attached. Pedro looked at the two and said, “Padres, this church is yours with our gratitude.”

Danny uttered an almost Jewish “oy” and Davy fell backwards into a pew. Neither had the least concept of what to say. The cheers of the crowd filled the church and once again the people filed past them shaking hands and kissing their cheeks.

This Is Good!

“You see, Mr. Tyson,” said Davy, “We know about bribes. Our whole business started with a bribe, it was what, thirty pieces of silver, Father West?”
“I believe it was, Pastor Tate, I believe it was.”
“Now, that’s interesting. I assume those pieces of silver were about an ounce, doesn’t that sound about right, Father West?”
“I would say so, Pastor Tate, about an ounce sounds right.”
“And last I heard, silver was about thirty dollars an ounce. Let’s see, thirty times thirty, that’s a far cry from a hundred.”
“Wait a damn minute,” shouted Tyson. “I went to church. I know about Judas’ bribe. I know about that.”
“Strange,” said Davy, “you know about the thirty pieces of silver the Sanhedrin paid Judas, but you missed all that other stuff about paying a fair wage and treating your fellow man fairly. That is strange. Isn’t that strange, Father West?”
“Indeed it is Pastor Tate, indeed it is.”
“Look,” said Tyson, “what do you bastards want?”
“What do us bastards want? That’s a good question. What do us bastards want? Isn’t that a good question, Father West?”
“It is an excellent question, Pastor Tate, an excellent question.”
“Let’s see, Mr. Tyson. The way I see it we have three options. One, we can hold these men here until the labor people arrive and they can make you pay the workers what you owe plus a few thousand in fines and penalties. That’s one way, don’t you agree, Father West?”
“I do agree,” said Danny as he flipped his toothpick. “That is one way.”
“Another way is we can get a few people from our churches down here to march back and forth carrying signs telling everybody what a louse you are. Most of my people aren’t gonna’ give a damn, but I think I can get fifty,  more or less. How many you think you can get, Father West?”
“About fifty sounds right, yea, I think I’m good for fifty.”
“Of course, Mr. Tyson, all that’s going to take time and your fruit is ripe. I can’t guarantee it won’t be rotten by the time we get everything in place.”
“Smart son-of-a-bitch, what makes you think I’m just going to stand here while you do all that?”
“That is a good question. Probably the police Father West has likely started dialing by now will stop you. Isn’t that right, Father West?”
“One more number and they’re on their way,” grinned Danny holding out his cell phone.
Tyson began looking down and shaking his head. “You said three ways, what’s the third way?”
“The third way is you go get your books and pay these men what you owe them. Father West and I will do the calculations.”
“You sons-of-bitches,” said Tyson. “You sons-of-bitches.”
“I guess we’re sons-of-bitches, Father West.”
“You know, I have often wondered about mom. You think maybe that was what it was?”
“This man says so, Father. This man says so.”
“Well, it must be. I’m so glad to know.”
That afternoon, Davy and Danny finished examining Mr. Tyson’s records and discovered Tyson owed his men quite a large sum of money. Danny wrote the total on a piece of paper and slid it toward Tyson. “I’ll get you a check,” Tyson said with all the hate he could muster.
“We prefer cash,” said Danny. “We can wait here until you run to your bank. But, I would suggest you hurry. Your peaches aren’t getting any fresher.” Tyson twisted away cursing, slammed the door to his truck and sped away.
“You feel good, Danny?”
“I believe I do, Davy.”
“One question.”
“Yes sir.”
“What was with the toothpick?”
“It was cool, wasn’t it?”
“Definitely, but what was it?”
“James Dean, Rebel Without A Cause.”
“It is better than your Stan Laurel impression.”
“It is? You think so?”
“It is, trust me. It is.”
A short time later, Tyson slid his truck up to where the others were standing. He got out and handed Danny a large packet of money.”
“Thank you,” said Davy. “And one more thing.”
“What the hell do you want now?”
“A list of the other farm owners around here.”
“For what?”
“Just make out the list.”
Tyson listed several names on a piece of paper and handed it to Davy.
“Thank you, Mr. Tyson. We wanted the list so we’ll have it in case we need to turn over names to the Department of Labor for the same trick you were pulling.”
“That’s right, Mr. Tyson, because you see Pastor Tate here speaks Spanish very well and you know what he told these men while you were at the bank?”
“No, what did he tell them while I was at the bank?”
“He told them that you had given us an extra hundred dollars, which you did. You didn’t know it but you did, and it would be a reward for any man who reported one of the land owners paying less than the minimum wage. Wasn’t that a fine idea, Mr. Tyson?”
“Are we finished?”
“Oh, I think so, Mr. Tyson and it was real good meeting you. Just as soon as we pay these men their money they’ll be back picking your peaches. Of course, you will pay them the right money from now on won’t you?”
Tyson turned away with an under his breath “Go to Hell”.
“You know, Preacher Davy, I don’t believe we made a very good impression on Mr. Tyson.”
“I disagree, Father West, I believe we made an excellent impression on Mr. Tyson.”