Benediction

34

THEY MET IN THE BASEMENT of the church in what was called the fellowship hall. A big open room with a kitchen at the back, with the smell of mold rising from behind the trim at the edges, and long folding tables and metal chairs stacked against the wall, and an old upright piano in the corner.

Outside the church the light was beginning to fade, and there was a little breeze. But it was dark down in the basement and the recessed ceiling lights had been switched on.

The five members of the ministerial relations board were there along with the assembly director from Greeley, a middle-aged man with bifocal glasses. He was wearing a white shirt and tie but it was a warm evening and he had draped his coat over a chair. They all sat around one of the long tables that had been unfolded and set up.

The director had opened the meeting with a prayer and then they had begun to discuss Reverend Lyle. The board wanted to put this outrage and unhappiness and disruption behind them, they wanted Lyle to be replaced, to be discharged and not to be allowed to preach in Holt again.

Maybe he doesn’t even want to, one board member said. He wasn’t here this last Sunday.

No, he was here, one of the others said. He just didn’t do any preaching.

Would you be willing to allow him to stay, the director said, if I talked to him and he agreed to avoid this kind of controversy?

I don’t want to take the chance, the first man said. There’s no knowing what he’ll say when he gets up in the pulpit. You can’t trust him. He could say anything.

But I think he would be willing to make some kind of promise if I talk to him.

I don’t even want to try.

What about the rest of the board here?

They looked back at the director, in his tie and white shirt, and didn’t say anything.

I’ve spoken to him by phone, he said, but I haven’t seen him yet. Does he look pretty bad? I understand he was attacked.

Attacked. I wouldn’t call it that, another man said.

What would you call it? I heard two men stopped him at night and beat him.

He was out wandering around town at night, looking in people’s houses. What would you expect? After what he said in church.

And you think that justifies what those men did. Settling the score for the whole town, so to speak.

I’m not saying that. Did I say that?

But they did hurt him.

A little. Not much. I don’t think he was hurt very bad.

That makes it all right then.

No. Somebody roughed him up. We know that. But nobody knows who. If anybody knows who it was they aren’t saying. And he never made any complaint or accusation to the police. It wasn’t much anyway.

So he’s all right now. He’s not seriously hurt.

He’s able to talk at least, the first man said. Like we said, he came to church last Sunday and spoke a little.

What did he say?

I wasn’t there. I heard he just said that he didn’t have anything more to say. He told people to go home. It wasn’t a sermon.

It was then that Willa and Alene Johnson opened the basement door and looked in at the board members and the director.

Yes? the chairman said. We’re meeting here, Willa. This is a board meeting.

We know you’re meeting. That’s why we’re here.

But you’re not on the board. This is a private conference.

I know, Tom. I’ve been on the board myself. Before you were even a member of the church, when you were still just a little boy scurrying around here in the basement bothering people.

She and her daughter stepped into the room and shut the door. Willa was carrying her purse. Otherwise they had nothing with them. They came up to the table where the five men and the director were sitting, watching them.

I want to talk to you, Willa said.

But you shouldn’t even be here, the chairman said. I’ve already told you. You must see that.

I know what the rules say, but we’re here nevertheless.

Let’s let her speak, the director said. If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear her.

But this isn’t the normal way, the chairman said. This isn’t official now. We’re going off record now.

Have we met before? the director said, looking at Willa.

Yes, but you don’t remember. I’m Mrs. Willa Johnson and this is my daughter Alene Johnson. We’re both longtime members of this church.

It’s good to see you. Will you sit down?

I don’t think so. I don’t expect we’ll be here long enough to bother with chairs. We know what you’re doing here.

We’re talking about your minister.

You’re talking about removing him. About refusing to let him stay here and preach to us anymore.

That’s still under discussion. We haven’t decided that yet.

You will, she said. Before you do, I’m going to say something in his behalf. She looked at Alene. We’re both going to say something.

That would be appreciated, the director said. If you can help us be fair and just, we’d like to hear from you.

Oh, we don’t expect you to be fair, Alene said. That’s not going to happen. That would be a shock to everybody here.

Wait now, the chairman said. That’s too much.

No. It’s not, she said. He was trying to remind us of the truth. The real truth. To help us to think bigger than we do. We need to listen to him. But we’re not. Not enough of us.

That wasn’t the truth, one of the men said. That was just insanity. Craziness.

It’s in the Bible, Willa said. Do you think the Gospel of Luke is craziness?

That was out of context. He takes it literally.

Don’t you? Aren’t we supposed to? At least that passage?

Not here. Not now. Not like that.

Yes. Right here, right now.

My God, are you that ignorant, woman? There’s a war going on.

There shouldn’t be, she said.

Wait, the director said. That’s not the issue. Let’s just calm down. This isn’t helping. Let us pray again. I think we should. He looked at them. Will you all pray with me? He bowed his head and folded his hands on top of the table.

So they prayed again, but it didn’t change anything. Afterward they would not allow the Johnson women to say whatever else they had come to say and the chairman led them each by the arm across the room to the door and went up with them to the street. It was dark now and the corner lights had come on.

I thought better of you than this, Tom, Willa said. I thought you were a better man.

You shouldn’t have come here.

We had every right to come here. We’re members of the church.

No. You didn’t have the right. We’re the duly elected board. But I’m not getting into that again. Is your car here? Will you be all right? Watch your step in the dark.

You need to watch your step too, Tom. And don’t ever touch me again, please.

Good night. He went back to the basement.

In the basement they went on talking.

Do all of you want Reverend Lyle to leave? the director said. You don’t seem to have given him much chance and opportunity to prove himself. Have you already made up your minds?

Is he kind of stupid? one man said. Is he slow? Is that the trouble with him?

Maybe he’s having a breakdown, one of the others said.

He’s like some kind of ignorant and dangerous boy. Wanting the world. Wanting what’s on the other side of the store window and making trouble for everybody around him.

What is wrong with him anyway? the board chairman said. You know him.

Nothing’s wrong with him, the director said.

Something is. Look at what’s happened here.

And Denver too. Or he wouldn’t have been sent out here. We wouldn’t have got him. He wouldn’t have been given this charge. We all know that.

You shouldn’t have sent him. This isn’t a good place for someone like him. With his ideas.

It wasn’t only my decision, the director said. Others help make these choices.

Then those others screwed up.

Here now, the director said. We don’t need that kind of talk.

But it was a bad mistake. Say it how you want to.

I think he’s a good man, one man said who hadn’t spoken yet. I can see that. That’s not in question. He’s someone with a vision of how it could be.

Not here though.

Maybe not here, maybe not now. But it could be. It’s like what the Johnson women were saying.

Never mind that, the first man said. Let’s get this over with. Let’s vote.

Afterward the director stayed behind. He called Lyle on the phone. Will you come over now? We’re finished talking. I’d like to speak with you now.

Where are you? Are you still in the church?

Yes, in the basement.

We could go upstairs and talk in my office.

No. I have all my materials down here. This’ll be fine.

Lyle left the house and walked out in the mild evening and went down the steps to the basement hall where the director was waiting at the long table. The director had gotten himself a glass of water in the kitchen and he was sitting with the half-empty glass and his notes and papers in front of him. He had put his suit coat on again. He stood up when Lyle came in and they shook hands. Lyle was wearing old jeans and a T-shirt. He sat down on the same side of the table as the director with three of the empty chairs between them.

You didn’t bother to dress up tonight, I see, the director said.

No. I assume the decision has been made already.

I thought you might have put on appropriate attire out of respect for the greater Church, if not for me.

Does it matter?

The formalities matter.

It still comes out the same.

The director took a sip of water from his glass.

So. Is this what you want? What’s happened here tonight?

It wasn’t. But it is now.

You’ve done what you could to make it come out like this. Haven’t you.

How much time do I have? I will need some time to move my family.

You don’t even ask if you can be reassigned.

No.

Don’t you want to be?

No. I’m done. I’m finished with all of this.

We could probably reassign you as associate pastor somewhere. If you agreed to cooperate.

No, I don’t think so.

It doesn’t have to be this abrupt, so all-of-a-sudden.

Yes it does, finally. It was headed this way for years. It’s just taken this long to get to this day.

The director stacked the papers on the table in front of him. You don’t understand, do you?

What don’t I understand?

How to make changes. How to transform things and move people in God’s direction gradually. It doesn’t have to be fire and brimstone. Bombast and arm waving.

I’m sure I never waved my arms.

But you take my point. Changes can be made by slow accretion.

Not in my experience. I don’t see it.

Well, you didn’t, and you haven’t. That’s true. Still, I want to give you time to reconsider. To sleep on it and reflect and pray over this tonight.

I’m not changing my mind.

It wouldn’t be official until the decision had gone through the formalities and the appropriate channels and the church hierarchies, then they would talk again. The director insisted on shaking hands once more and gathered up his papers, put them in a briefcase and went out the door. Lyle stayed behind and carried the water glass the director had used to the kitchen and washed and dried it and put it away in the cupboard and stacked the chairs against the wall and put away the table. He turned the lights off and went back up to ground level. A car was going by on the dark street. He walked home in the quiet night.

At the parsonage he called his wife and son into the kitchen and they sat at the table looking at him. Is it over? she said.

I’ll tell you.

Then he told them: the board had made its decision tonight, he was being discharged and they’d have to leave. But they had time to consider what to do, until the end of summer. They could stay in the house in the meantime while they decided.

I’m going now, she said. I’ll leave tomorrow. I won’t wait. It was bad enough coming to a place where they didn’t want you in the first place, but the shame of being dismissed … I can imagine the glances and the whispers now. How people will act in the stores. I won’t endure that.

It’s not shame, he said. That’s not what this is. It’s something different from that. I don’t feel shame.

Well, don’t tell me about it, she said. I don’t want to hear it.

Mom, John Wesley said, I’m going with you.

Oh, you poor boy, she said. What a hard time for you. She lifted her hand to his face but he pulled away.

I’m coming with you.

No. You can’t. Stay here with Dad. For a while longer. Just for a while. Wait till I have a job and a place for us. We don’t even have a place to put our heads down in Denver. You can come when I find something.

Yes, that’s better, Lyle said. Your mother needs time. Stay with me, son. He turned again to his wife. You’re sure this is what you want to do? Or should you stay until we figure out what we’re all going to do?

It’ll be a relief.

You don’t think about me, the boy said. He was close to tears. Neither one of you does. You never do.

He stood up shoving the chair out of the way, it fell over backward, and he ran out of the room.

Let him go, she said. He needs a chance to take this in.

They stayed in the kitchen talking and afterward she went upstairs and began to pack.