“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.”
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