Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [105]
But there was no sign of Theophilus and Rev. James.
When they had met that morning, Theophilus had been worried that they'd be late for the service, but Rev. James seemed to be focused entirely on the meeting with Booker and Pompey.
"Bishop Jennings asked us to march in the processional," Theophilus reminded him.
"I know. But this is more important. I think Percy would rather I do this first."
Theophilus had to agree—catching and stopping Bishop Caruthers was far more important than walking in a special processional at the Triennial Conference. If they didn't do something about Bishop Caruthers, there might not be much of a denomination to march before anyway. Negro church folk were mighty particular about how much dirt they could tolerate before they began asking themselves if the denomination they belonged to was one led by God or had been infiltrated by the devil. They would run people out of the church in droves—and away from God—if they didn't deal with this mess.
And now, Booker and Pompey's report was every bit as shocking as they feared.
"Murcheson, this ain't just no smokin', drinkin, and gettin'girls-to-the-preacher thing like I first thought it was," Booker said. "This thing being set up just like any other regular kind of business, even with offices."
Pompey chimed in, "Lawd! Lawd, y'all. It is some real nasty, stanky, skanky, low-down nasty business."
"So like we was sayin', you all need to get off your behinds and do something about it. 'Cause y'all know this devilment ain't right. Preachers!" Booker spat out the word like he was cussing.
Rev. James said gravely, "What I say we should do is get some podium time from Bishop Jennings tomorrow. Then, Theophilus, I want you to get up and tell folks what been goin' on."
Theophilus frowned at Rev. James. "Who said anything about me being the one to go up and expose anybody?"
"I did. I did as your new bishop," Rev. James stated, with a slight grin crossing his face as he recognized how a little bishop's power could come in handy at times.
Theophilus gave him a look that said, "Oh, so it's like that, huh?"
And Rev. James looked right back at him as if to say, "Yes, it is like that."
Theophilus brushed his hand over his forehead. Bishop Jennings or Rev. James were always talking about standing up for what you believed was right, and here they were putting this tremendous burden on him.
"Rev. James, I understand where you coming from. But what I don't understand is why I have to be the one to do this thing. Why aren't you going up there to do it?"
"Son," Rev. James said. "Son, the bishops and pastors who got some decency in them believe that you have what it takes to lead this denomination into the next century. Don't you realize that in twenty, thirty years, this church gone be faced with some things we don't even have the sense to begin thinking about right now? You have what it takes to be a bishop in the next century, Theophilus—the right kind of bishop. But you got to cut your teeth on some church mess to get you ready for that responsibility. You hear what I'm trying to tell you, Theophilus?"
Theophilus nodded his head yes and just sighed.
"Now tell me, son," Rev. James asked. "Just what is it you so afraid of?"
Booker and Pompey looked at Theophilus with disappointment. They had long placed him in the category as a man with some "balls."
He took heed of those looks, got quiet for a few seconds, and took a few deep breaths to gain some composure. The last thing he wanted to do was fail those two—not to mention Essie, himself, and God.
"Look," he said, "before I go jumping up on the podium making serious accusations against some of the most powerful men in this church, I need proof—some serious proof— in writing. That's what I thought we were going to be getting this morning."
"No," Booker interrupted. "We said we would get proof. Didn't nobody say a thing