And a contemplating stare
You know, you know, know I don’t care.”
The doors to the church are large and ancient, having hosted many thousands of worshippers through-out the years. So many Christians had come here to reaffirm each Sunday that they are the submissive servants of God. I walk in side by side with my Mom.
I feel the glances of the congregation upon my body. It’s as if all of the attendees know what I did last night. We walk into the community establishment and receive barely a single “hello”. I feel unwanted here.
As the music from the organ plays on and on, I see the minister walks up to his position on the pulpit. I swear that he makes a judgmental eye contact with me, reinforcing what I know: I’m going to hell. Soon.
He is a short and bald man, but becomes loud and powerful when he speaks. During sermons his face becomes a glowing red, and his mouth bellows the words of God out like a thunderstorm. Every Sunday he makes it seem like the next day will be Judgment Day, and he tells the congregation to be ready.
“Praise God!” He begins, motioning towards the organist.
“May He see that we are here to worship Him and grant forgiveness upon us sinful mortals.” He says. I hope God sees me here. Maybe just coming to church will earn me a place in heaven. I hope so.
The minister explains the course of the day’s worship. I mindlessly follow along in the pamphlet that shows the schedule of the proceedings, and my heart stops for a beat when I see the sermon. The sermon is entitled: “The Sins of Sexuality in Today’s Modern Culture”.
I start to nervously shake a little, thinking about the night before; all of the nights I’ve had like that. God hates me, and I will burn for my sins. I’m pulled away from my thoughts by the minister’s loud voice.
“I would like to begin the service today by reminding everyone of the parable of the rich young man.” He starts.
“A rich young man came to Jesus and asked, ‘Good Master, what good thing shall I do, that I may have eternal life?’. And Jesus told him, ‘keep the commandments.’” The minister pauses for a moment and then continues.
“But the rich young man pressed on. He asked which of the commandments were the most important to keep. Jesus then told him, ‘Honour thy father and thy mother: and, Thou shalt love they neighbor as thyself.’ The church leader continues with the familiar story.
“The young man told Jesus that he had kept the commandments, and inquired what else that he lacked. Jesus then said to him, ‘If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me.’”
“But the rich young man did not like this answer. You see he had many possessions and did not wish to sell them. He walked away and left, grieving for he did not wish to give up his many things.” The minister then reads directly from his bible.
“Jesus then says, in the holy gospel of Matthew, ‘Verily I say unto you, That a rich man shall hardly enter into the kingdom of heaven. And again I say unto you, It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.’” His voice then gains more power, building up into a tremendous volume.
“It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God!” He shouts as he scans across the faces of the congregation.
“Do not be like the young rich man. Do not desire these things. Surely, the eternal kingdom of God is worth more than your clothes, your car, or even your house?” The organ starts playing again and four ushers with offering plates stand at the front of the church, just in front of the minister. They then start walking and passing the offering plates systematically down each of the pews.
“Do not be like the young rich man.” The minister repeats, a bit more quietly this time. As the offering plates near our pew, I see my mom pull out her checkbook. She makes a check out to the church for a hundred dollars. I wonder silently if she has enough money in her bank account to cover it.
The service goes on, and my attention comes and goes. My mother and I stand when appropriate, read along from the pamphlet when required, and sing along to the age old hymns carried by the timeless pipe-induced vibrations of the organ. I begin to realize how tired I am, and just as I am mentally checking out (yet looking awake), the minister’s voice brings me back.
“They have made our sons and daughters sexually immoral! The sinful music and celebrities and television tell our children that these actions are OK!” He begins to really yell.
“They tell our children in the schools that these actions are OK! They have defiled the sanctity of marriage!” He picks up the bible from in front of him and reads.
“For this is the will of God, even your sanctification, that ye should abstain from fornication: That every one of you should know how to possess his vessel in sanctification and honour; Not in the lust of concupiscence, even as the Gentiles which know not God” He quotes the scripture in a powerful tone.
“God has told us his will! We must obey! We must submit ourselves to the Lord!” He shouts downward at the congregation. The room begins to feel warm to me. There’s a light buzzing in my ears that is growing louder with each passing moment. I’m seeing small dark spots. I try to ignore these things and continue listening to the sermon.
“And what happens to those who do not listen to the warnings? What happens to those who pay no heed to the will of our God? The bible tells us.” The minister says, and then flips through his bible to another marked page.
“In the holy book of Revelation, it is written: ‘But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death.’” He reads and then pauses for a moment while still looking downward at his bible. Lifting his face, he addresses the congregation.
“Hell. Let it be known to those on the radio, to those on the television, to those teaching in our schools. Eternal damnation awaits the sinners who ignore the Lord! Let it be known to everyone who partakes in these physical acts, which dishonor the all-powerful and almighty Father, that the worst and most horrible place imaginable shall be their home.”
The buzzing in my ears reaches such a high volume that it begins to drown out even the minister’s booming voice. I feel as if the weight of the world is pressing down on me. I feel as if my heart is being crushed. I only catch words here and there for the duration of the service. Throughout the rest of the day, the minister’s voice periodically rings through my mind.
“The lake which burneth with fire and brimstone” echoes in my ears. I know it is true. God cannot love me anymore. No one can.
After church, I go with my Mom to her house to eat lunch. Her house is located in a lower-middle class suburban neighborhood. The home is rundown with cracked windows and chipped paint. The lawn looks like an overgrown jungle where landmines wouldn’t be entirely out of place. The residence is full of problems, which have been largely unaddressed; a symptom caused by a missing consistent man in my mother’s life.
My Mom prepares lunch and we sit at the table ready to eat. Apparently, my brother has told her that he will attend the meal as well. After a half hour or so of waiting though, we decide to start eating anyway. My brother is notoriously late for everything.
As we eat, my Mom starts to make conversation. She asks me about work and my new apartment. She genuinely cares about me, but her prying can become annoying at times. She takes a spoonful of soup and questions me further.
“So Katie, have you thought about taking a few classes again next semester?” She asks. I look at her for a second before responding. Her comment makes me slightly angry.
“Mom, you know I can’t afford to. With rent and my car payments, taking out more loans to go to class for God-knows-what