The Hathaway

The Fiery Furnace

The greeter hesitated for only a moment before nodding and handing us programs. We made our way past a few pews before settling in an empty space on the left. It seemed that the evening service was less formal than the morning service. The program only listed the title of the sermon and a scripture reference for the evening, while hymn numbers and various other information was included for the morning. We drew a few curious stares from various quarters of the congregation, and I noticed Evelyn sitting near the front with one or two other co-workers. They hadn’t seemed to notice us yet, but I knew it was only a matter of time.

The service proceeded informally. The song leader asked for favorites and we spent the first fifteen minutes or so singing old familiar tunes, some of which even I knew. Then, after the offering, it was time for the sermon. The minister introduced a man who seemed to be the leader of the protesters, and from the response of those in attendance, this was not the first time he had preached there.

Having been raised in an Episcopal tradition, I was expecting a five to ten minute affair with lots of literary or scholarly references, essentially read from a script in a calm manner. That was not how they did it here. He spoke casually, seemingly from memory or perhaps making it up as he went along. He also spoke with passion and ardor. This was not an intellectual exercise, it was deeply emotional with only a touch of intellect. Clearly the success of the sermon did not rest in its theology, but the feelings it instilled in the listeners, the zeal with which they responded.

“Today we are reading from the book of Romans, chapter one, verses eighteen to thirty-two.” He proceeded to read the passage which spoke of the wrath of God and condemned human sinfulness, especially homosexuality. His manner grew more and more intense as he read, finally ending with an insistent and absolute, “...Those who practice such things deserve to die!”

He paused and scanned the congregation, noticing us as he did. His eyes narrowed and he smiled an evil grin. After a few introductory remarks that made it clear he was going to go on a tirade about the sins of the world in order to congratulate the ‘faithful’ gathered here on their righteousness, he began his attack. “I tell you flock, there is no place safe from the evils of this world! No place! It is in the high places and the low. Wickedness has no boundaries. It can be found in the workplace. Yes, the Devil is there! Can you see him in the corruption of your co-workers, their greed, their laziness, their carnality?” He dropped his tone a bit and stepped down from the pulpit, drawing closer to his congregation. As he stepped onto the floor, he continued, “Wickedness can be found in the home! Yes, even our good Christian homes. We must remain vigilant and drive it out whenever we find it!” He dropped his tone even lower, speaking softly now as he continued moving down the center aisle. “And finally, wickedness can even be found in the house of God! Yes, even here in the bosom of our Lord!” He paused a moment for effect, before bellowing, “Right here! In the heart of God’s beloved family, lustful, shameless, debased fornicators!”

He spoke these last words directly to us, and an audible gasp rippled through the room as the remaining people who hadn’t noticed us come in, finally recognized us. He stood in triumph, glaring at us, probably expecting us to beat a hasty retreat from his angry accusations. Instead, Ben looked him in the eye and said, “Yes.” The preacher was taken aback. The last thing he expected was for one of us to respond, let alone agree with him. Ben continued a little louder, “Yes! Wickedness has found a home in the house of God!” He stood up and stepped into the aisle, forcing the preacher to retreat. “A great wickedness. A wickedness that tempts the faithful to usurp the roll of God. Romans twelve, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord’!” Did not Jesus himself warn us against passing judgment lest we be judged in Matthew seven? How convenient to end today’s reading where you did! For does not the very next verse reveal that when we pass judgment others we condemn ourselves?”

By now he had driven the preacher back to the front of the worship space and had become as animated and passionate has his opponent. As I worked to pick my jaw up off the floor, he turned to the congregation and continued, “A great wickedness! A wicked teaching, that insights wicked actions! A wickedness that entices you to put yourself in the place of God and pass judgment on your neighbors.” He turned and faced Evelyn at this point. “But the fires of judgment born from that wickedness have no power. As with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the book of Daniel, the flames of false judgment cannot burn or destroy the righteous.” He began to lower his tone and address the entire congregation. “But woe to those who pass such wicked judgments. For they will be judged with their own judgments, and the only mercies they will find will be the mercies they offered. Instead of storing up wrath for yourselves, store up treasures. Practice true religion by helping the fatherless. Obey the greatest commandment by loving your neighbor. Give no room in the house of God to the works of hate and wickedness, but drive them out and follow the heart of God, who is love.”

The silence that ensued was palpable. No one, not even the leader of the protesters, dared to speak while Ben held his ground. Only after he began to walk back down the aisle toward me did someone respond. Not with words, but with a guttural half scream, half growl. It was Evelyn. She jumped from her seat and furiously lunged toward him. Hearing her, he stopped and turned to face her down. She stopped inches from him, baring her teeth and contorting her face with rage. “Heretic!” she shrieked.

“Silence!” She took a step back, but did not speak. He faced her calmly and continued. “You have cast a shadow on this child of God for long enough.” He turned and stretched out his arm, inviting me to join him. I was so confused by what was going on that I responded without even thinking. “And as light drives out shadows, so love drives out hate. Be gone!” With that he drew me towards him and kissed me passionately. I was not usually self-conscious about kissing him in public, but public wasn’t usually the middle of a fundamentalist church service, where we were surrounded by people who had been openly hostile towards us. Even so, I was surprised to find myself getting lost in his embrace and focusing only on that. I felt warmth and passion pouring through me until I could feel nothing but my love for him.

I became aware of an echo, a wail of anger and despair, retreating rapidly as Ben withdrew himself. “Be wary,” he warned. “The evil one will try to seduce another. Offer no room for shadow or hate, and seek no vengeance. But fortify yourselves with the fruits of the spirit.”

Evelyn was sprawled on the floor and Ben bent down to help her up. She looked at him in bewilderment for a moment before catching sight of me. “Joey?” Her voice was shaky and tremulous. “Can you ever forgive me? I couldn’t…” She dissolved into tears. “I couldn’t stop him.”

Ben blinked and seemed to let out a slight shiver. Then, realizing he was the center of attention, leaned over to me and quietly asked, “What the hell’s going on?”

“I think we were just leaving,” I said. Some of the ladies had come to claim Evelyn and the men advancing on us did not exactly look friendly. As we reached the door the ushers let us pass but blocked the advancing men from following us.

We trotted down the stairs to find two cruisers waiting for us. When we approached one the officer asked, “Everything ok?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted, “I don’t know if they’re going to try to follow us home or what.”

He smiled. “Hop in, I’ll give you a lift.”

Come to find out, the officer who had been watching the church had seen us go in, and knowing the situation, he reported it and asked for back up, just in case. I didn’t think we were in any real danger, but I was grateful for the ride home, and the continued surveillance would also allow us to sleep easier tonight.

“So who are Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego?” I asked when we finally reached the privacy of our own apartment. “I didn’t realize you knew the bible that well.”

“Shad…? I have no idea. I don’t know the Bible at all. I was an utter failure at Sunday School. They gave up on me by the time I was ten.”

“Well you certainly seemed to know it earlier. Do you remember any of it?” I asked.

“A little.” He struggled to piece his memories together. “I remember that preacher guy getting closer and closer, and I remember getting angry, wishing I knew how to shut him up, and then it’s sort of like a dream. I could see someone putting him in his place and pleading with the people to show love instead of judgment. Then it went dark, like...like I was lost in a shadow, but then I could feel your kiss and the light began to resurface. Finally I was in your arms and everyone was looking at us. I vaguely remember helping Evelyn up as the fog cleared and then we left.”

“I thought so.” He looked at me in my confusion. “I know how much you hate public speaking. I wish I had the presence of mind to have recorded it, ‘cause I doubt I’ll ever have the chance to see you preach a sermon like that again.”

“Me? Preach? You’re fucking kidding, right?”

“Oh, no. It was you who put that preacher in his place. You were quoting scripture left, right, and center. It was a wonder to behold!” I chuckled as he shook his head in disbelief.

“It couldn’t have been me. How…?”

I think you were channeling one of the ghosts from the ruins. I still don’t know who they are, but they seem to be pretty powerful. Thank goodness they’re on our side.

We both realized that it was getting late and we had never managed to fix supper beyond the little bit of pizza we had shared with the kids. We decided to head down and say goodnight and see if there were any leftover slices in the fridge. The same night supervisor as last night was here again. I had managed to overhear Sylvia calling him by name earlier, but, of course had already forgotten. Rather than pretending, I decided to be direct. “I’m sorry, I’m terrible with names. Could you remind me?”

He just laughed, “Of course, Skeet.”

“That’s right, Skeet.” I pretended I remembered but it didn’t really ring a bell. “That’s an unusual name, you’d think I’d remember it.”

“It’s a nick name. My real name is Robert, but most people call me Skeet, short for mosquito.”

“Mosquito?” I asked.

“Yeah, evidently I used to annoy my big sister when I was little and she’d try to swat me away like a bug. It kinda stuck.”

“I like it. Persistence is a virtue. Never forget that. Any pizza left?”