Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [89]
"I still can't get over those two getting together," Theophilus said to Essie.
"Well, get over it, Theophilus, because they are," Essie said, wondering to herself why a woman as stuck-up and proper-acting as Saphronia McComb would want a jive, whorish man like Marcel Brown.
"All right, all right, quiet down, you good Detroit people," the Bishop said with a broad grin. Ernest Brown was his own top choice for bishop. He was a company man, with enough of that Detroit smoothness to cajole whatever he wanted from folks without resorting to the butt-kissing of Willie Williams or the overwhelming forcefulness of Jimmy Thekston. He waited a few more moments for the cheers to die down and said, "For those of you who don't know it, that voice you keep hearing belongs to none other than Rev. Marcel Brown. In fact, young Rev. Brown, why don't you come on up here and stand next to your daddy—let some of that good bishop air just blow all over you and get you ready for your future."
Marcel, a fairer, more slender version of his father, mounted the stage, decked out in a white dinner jacket, black and white striped bow tie, and matching cummerbund. He waved at the audience, who clapped and cheered for him. He even blew kisses to the ladies—a few giggled—before hugging his father and exchanging hearty handshakes with the other men on the stage.
"I don't believe this crap," Theophilus mumbled out loud, then looked embarrassed when he realized that he was practically in church swearing like that. "Bishop Jennings, please forgive me my manners, I—"
"Theophilus, if it looks like crap, if it sounds like crap, and if it smells like crap, then I'd be inclined to think that it is crap."
Rev. James sniffed at the air a couple of times. "Lord knows you right in this case, Bishop Jennings."
The Bishop cleared his throat, to announce the last candidate, the first man who would be elected bishop next Friday. "And, the last of our top six candidates for bishop," he said without enthusiasm, "is Rev. Murcheson James, 915 votes, from Mount Nebo Gospel United Church in Charleston, Mississippi."
Rev. James stood up slowly, looking first at Susie and then at Bishop Jennings, shaking his head in total disbelief. "Bishop, you know you a miracle worker. I am the last man they want elected a bishop."
Percy Jennings smiled. He knew Murcheson believed he hadn't made the cut when Willie Williams's name was called, thinking that he had been outvoted. He suspected that Murcheson had been almost relieved to put the business of church politics behind him, and eager to return to his work at Mount Nebo. But God had other plans for him.
When Rev. James walked onto the stage, the Senior Bishop gave him a lukewarm "Congratulations." Rev. Thekston stared at Murcheson out of the corner of his eye, clenching his fists.
Of all the men he could bully, Murcheson James was not one of them.
Willie Williams was vexed. He knew that Murcheson would fight him tooth and nail on anything he believed would hurt the church and its people. Rev. James was a do-gooder who believed all those platitudes about what made for a good preacher. And if he took all that seriously, Williams could only wonder at the extent he would take his vows when he was consecrated as a bishop.
Silas Jones was seething. It was bad enough, once again, he had the least number of pledged votes. But it was a slap in the face to stand in the shadows of an old country boy like Murcheson James.
The most intense hostility came from Ernest Brown, who had counted on being the first one elected a bishop. Here he was pastor of one of the largest churches in Michigan, taking second place to a man who pastored a church with only one-hundred-odd members in a country-bumpkin town like Charleston, Mississippi. When they were finally consecrated as bishops, he was going to make Murcheson James the most miserable