Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [123]
Marcel looked at the book with a perfectly contrived, perplexed expression. He shrugged and said, "Don't believe that I do, Rev. James."
"Well that's odd. Because your name is right here in the front of it. Here, come on down and take a better look."
Marcel narrowed his eyes at Rev. James and stayed in his place. Nothing, not even the flames of hell lapping at his feet, would make him admit that this book belonged to him.
Rev. James looked around at the church folks and knew from the looks on their faces that no one believed that Marcel was telling the truth. He held up the blue book, saying, "Ernest"—he opened it—"Ernest, it says right here that you incurred expenses at this club and that your church was to be billed to pay for them. Now, how do you explain all that? I have a copy of your signature right here."
Ernest ran over to Rev. James and jumped up in his face. He said, "That is a bald-faced lie and you know it," loud enough to be heard all over the gymnasium.
A few of the older women held their fans up to their faces and whispered things like, "Chile, he know he courtin' the devil to carry on like that." And, "I always knew he was a big devil—always prancing around here like he got the spirit and all he got is a fit for evil-doing."
Rev. James continued to flip through the pages, prompting Ernest to leap at him, trying to snatch the book out of his hand. But Rev. James dodged his lunge, and Ernest fell flat on his face. Stepping over Ernest, Rev. James presented the book to Bishop Jennings. As Bishop Jennings turned the pages, he said, with disgust, "We don't need to waste another minute talking about this sordid mess. What Rev. Simmons has told you is the truth. Aaa . . . men. Now, some of you sitting out there may not want to hear this truth, and some of you might not want to believe it about the leaders in your church. But accept and believe it you must. Because the lamp of truth is shining down on our church. Aaa . . . men. And I just have to tell you people that the Gospel United Church is too fine an institution to be desecrated with this filth. Aaa . . . men.
"Church, you need to think long and hard and decide what you want to do about this. You delegates out there, you need to vote right tomorrow. If a preacher's name is in this book, don't make him a bishop. And if a pastor's name is in this book, run him out of his church. Be strong and have the conviction to do right with the Lord. Aaa . . . men."
Folks started jumping up from their seats and running to the stage to see if their pastor's name was in one of those books. Many were not all that surprised by what had transpired this morning—they had been gossiping about their ministers' bad behaviors for years. Maybe, as one lady put it, they had all become so accustomed to the status quo operations of their church that they had lent those no-good preachers a helping hand toward this fall. And perhaps, she had surmised, this is just what everybody needed to get them back on track to doing right in how they served the Lord.
Chapter Twenty-nine
REV. JAMES FORKED UP A BIG MOUTHFUL OF ROSE Neese's chit'lin's, looked up to heaven, smiled, and said, "Thank you, Jesus!" Theophilus laughed. He had never met anyone who loved chit'lin's as much as Rev. James. He dipped his fork into his own pile of chit'lin's, covered in hot sauce, and tasted them.
"Whew," he said, eyes watering, and reached for his glass of iced tea.
"Now see, Baybro," Thayline said. "I have told you almost all of your life to quit piling all of that hot sauce on your chit'lin's. But do you listen to me? No . . ."
"Honey, let Baybro enjoy his food," Willis chided. "He's only gonna be with us a few more days, and then you'll be moping around the house all sad and lonely for your little brother."
Theophilus looked over and raised an eyebrow at Thayline, who ignored him.
"Don't act like you don't care," Willis said. "Baybro, it's true. Whenever you and Baby Doll leave, this here woman gets all long in the face and worry me something