“It can be both, though I believe most of his are people switching.”
“Including from the Catholic Church,” she remarked quietly.
His eyes flashed to hers, then he sighed. “Yes, including a good number from us. I know of seventeen previous regular attendees here who now go to Balfour’s church on Sundays.”
Seventeen. And Father Merstory knew the exact number. This was definitely a sore point.
“What are the typical members of his congregation? You know . . . ages, blue versus white collar, education . . . all those sorts of details.”
Merstory thought for a moment. “I don’t know if I could give you a good generalization. I suppose for those who are Catholics, they are generally less educated, blue collar, late thirties on up.”
“Forgive me, Father, but am I correct that you have some issues with Pastor Balfour and his church?”
Merstory harrumphed. “I really can’t give personal opinions about other churches and their leaders.”
“I understand. Please be assured I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
“This is something that can cause lots of trouble. It’s the sort of thing the press loves to play up. We’ve been instructed by our bishop to studiously avoid going down that path.”
“Again, this investigation is very serious. While I can’t tell you more at this time, any background information you can give me will be a big help. What I can promise is that there’ll be no report of our conversation, and nothing you say will be part of any case. It’s all background information.”
He rubbed his chest with one hand while he considered. After a minute, he said, “All right, Greta. As long as you assure me nothing I say will go beyond you.”
“I promise, Father.”
He sat in a pew, and she sat next to him. He faced her, one arm over the back of the pew and a leg bent onto the seat. “There’s something about him that makes me uneasy. To be honest, I resent his poaching on other churches like he does. Obviously, for me it’s those Catholics I’m most concerned about. Not just that we may have lost them, but the few I’ve talked to about this sound too enthralled with him. Almost like it’s a cult.”
“Does he try to control their lives, like some cults do?”
“I can’t say how much that happens, but I do know he manages to get a pretty high level of tithing. Naturally, we want that for the Catholic Church, too. On the other hand, we understand different levels of income and different abilities to tithe. In Balfour’s case, there seems to be tithing from people already living close to the edge. I know one case of a family living entirely on welfare, yet they manage to give ten percent of it to that church.”
“Where do the tithes go?”
“Balfour’s salary, of course. He seems to live well for an evangelical pastor, though not extravagantly that I know of. I’ve heard no such complaints. I’d be surprised if the total level of regular tithing on Sundays, plus special contributions by church members, doesn’t total well into hundreds of thousands of dollars per year. Then there’s the church itself. I know they’re expanding it to accommodate future growth. And, of course, the mission they run in Peru.”
Bingo! she thought. Let’s see what the good father knows.
“Yes. I’ve heard of this missionary activity. Do you know any details about it?”
“Only that he travels there a couple of times a year and that a good part of the tithes goes to its support. I have to admit, it looks like he’s doing some good down there. Not only is there an associated school, but last I heard they were trying to start a small clinic. The people there certainly look like they could use help. I just wish it was the Catholic Church doing the helping.”
“You say the people there look like they need help. How do you know that?”
“He gave a presentation to our Ecumenical Committee and other community leaders about a year ago. He used PowerPoint slides of photos he took of their mission. The village they work in is literally dirt poor and gets hardly any education or medical support from the Peruvian government. Again, I have to give him credit for helping. I’m ashamed to admit it, but most of his converts in Peru were probably Catholic before. Yet our church isn’t doing anything for those people the way he is, such as schooling and now a planned clinic.”
“PowerPoint slides, huh? Too bad. I wish I could have seen them.”
“Oh, I have the slides,” the priest said off-handedly.
“You have them?”
“The meeting was here, and he used our projection system. I keep all the files for such things, in case there’s anything I want to use later.” Merstory smiled. “It’s always handy to have slides you can modify for your own use. He had some nice ones—nice formatting, that is—and some of the village scenes were memorable.”
“Could I look at those slides?”
“Sure. Wait a moment while I go to the rectory and see if I can find the file.”
He rose from the pew and walked to the front of the building and through a side door. Greta looked around. She had been here several times since moving to Oregon. At home, her family went to Mass every Sunday. Her mother was more devout than her father, and they lived a not atypical American Catholic life—attending Mass, depending on the family member; donating small amounts each Sunday; participating in social activities; and sometimes ignoring the more conservative church positions.