Nothing Sacred

Not sure he’d even be preaching, David had been waiting all night and most of the early morning for a phone call. He’d tried to imagine who’d make that call. Mayor Parsons? Someone from the church council? Martha Moore?

He’d heard from Whitney. She’d been angry that he’d turned his back on her so completely. But mostly she’d just had a free afternoon and been curious about him, wanted to find out how much he’d changed. And to remind him of who he’d been. That he was no better than she was… Then the time had come. His parishioners had started to arrive. So, as he always did, he moved to the back of the sanctuary to greet them as they came in. To welcome them all. And to give anyone who needed anything an opportunity to let him know.

He’d sung the first song with the rest of the congregation, careful to avoid catching the eyes of Martha and her children in the front row. They’d all dressed for the occasion. Tim was wearing slacks with creases and a matching shirt and tie. All four of the Moore females were in skirts and hose. Martha had on a navy suit that not only made her more beautiful than he could comfortably stand, but made her intimidating as well.

Or maybe that was because he knew she could stand up at any minute and denounce him….

Scripture reading, offertory. A special musical number by the choir. Through it all, David waited.

And then it was time for his sermon. He wondered if that was the time when Martha would take her stance.

He stood anyway. It was all he could do.

Moving slowly to the pulpit, he slid the microphone out of its holder. Crossed to the three wide carpeted stairs that led down to the pews. There were at least three hundred people here, most of whom he knew. A lot of whom he’d grown to love.

“Good morning.”

That went okay. But then, he always started out with a greeting.

Keeping his gaze focused somewhere down the middle aisle, David said “Good Morning” a second time.

Giving Martha a chance to do what she must. Waiting to take his cue

from her.

“Good morning.” His third greeting was met with rustles from the crowd. The few people he could see in his peripheral vision were looking at each other, and him, in question. And worry?

“Yes, well, the sermon I meant to give this week, the sermon I prepared the day after we made the headlines…” He paused. Didn’t know where to go from there. What to do.

“…is the one I’m still going to give you.” David had no idea where the words came from.

But there they were. “I didn’t intend to,” he said. “I’d decided last night to prepare something else entirely, but I’ll save that for another time.”

Relaxed, even if just for those moments when he did his Father’s work, David spent the next twenty minutes talking about forgiveness. Forgiveness for the man sitting in a jail cell in Phoenix, for the spouse who’d yelled that morning, for the business partner who’d cheated, the friend who’d hurt, the husband who’d left. He still didn’t look at Martha, but he could feel her there.

“Because the thing is, folks, your anger and your desire for vengeance aren’t going to punish the people who’ve hurt you. Those negative emotions will turn on you, instead.” He was certain of this, at least. “If you hold a grudge, it’s not those who’ve mistreated you who suffer. It’s you. The only way to true peace and happiness, is to let go. And the only way to let go is to forgive….”

Nods from the people around him, the honest concentration shining from hundreds of eyes, gave David the confidence to keep walking back and forth on those stairs. To keep talking when he wasn’t sure he had the energy to hold the mike.

When he finished here, he had no idea what he was going to do. Where he was going to go.

Despite the truths he was proclaiming, he knew two things.

Without his life purpose, his existence had no value.

Without Martha Moore, life had no love.

“Remember…” He was coming to the end. “You don’t have to forgive the act, you forgive the person who committed the act. We’re all one, brothers and sisters,” he said, addressing his congregation in a way he’d never addressed them before. “We’re all of one human blood, and we all share one universal love. That entitles every single person, no matter what he or she has done, to forgiveness.”

As he’d long since forgiven his mother. And, in more recent years, the father who’d so brutally sired him.

The sermon ended. The service ended. And people seemed to be hanging around an unusually long time. Try as he might, David just was not up to smiling and small talk. As soon as he could, he slid away from the people, from the church building, back to the home he’d soon be leaving, to sit alone in the office there—the room where he’d been when his life had fallen apart.

He was done.

“YOU KNOW, PASTOR, you’re condemned to living here for the rest of your life.”

Even the voices in his head were beginning to sound like Martha Moore. “Oh, really,” he said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm or open his eyes.