The Visitation Part 5

"You're saying this is all a myth?" Paul Daley asked.

"A myth," Burton said with a nod, his arms crossed. Then he added, "Not that myths aren't a legitimate expression of culture-"

"I don't want to get sidetracked on that," Morgan cautioned.

"Well isn't that what we came to determine," Sid asked, "whether we're dealing with myth or reality?"

"It doesn't matter."

"What doesn't matter?" asked Howard.

"What matters is what it all means. I don't want us to get into a big fight over whether this is G.o.d, demons, or myth and miss the deeper causes."

"But you said it was a myth," Andy protested.

She brought her chin low over the table and scolded him. "I did not say it was a myth! I said-"

"Arnold's healing is real enough," said Al.

"Well what was your point?" Sid asked, trying to help out.

"This is a human thing."

"A human thing!" Burton repeated with another nod.

"So Arnold healed himself?" asked Al.

"The pilgrims aren't visiting Arnold," Paul observed.

"May I finish?" Morgan's Janis Joplin voice was rising. The others backed off. "When people have religious experiences like these, I take that as the expression of a need. Now we can expend our time trying to attribute this stuff to G.o.d or demons-or myth- or we can look for the spiritual needs these occurrences represent and be ready to minister to those needs in practical ways."

"But you're totally overlooking the deception that could be involved," Kyle countered.

She shook her head emphatically. "It doesn't matter."

"It does matter! The truth always matters!"

"Whose truth? Yours or theirs?"

Burton raised his index finger and plopped it down. One more point for Morgan.

Al jumped in, addressing Kyle. "These people are not wors.h.i.+ping an idol! They are waiting and seeking the G.o.d the image represents."

"They don't need an idol to do that."

"It's not an idol!"

"They don't need any mediator save Christ himself!"

"Judging, judging, judging!" Armond Harrison bellowed. "Of all the arrogance!"

Sid was shaking his head, looking toward heaven. "Our Lord must weep."

Paul Daley looked at me. "Well Travis, what's your view on all this?"

"NO!" Sid shouted-and shouting was something he rarely did. "I don't think-"

"He's no longer a part of this ministerial!" Armond growled.

"Then let him speak as a layman," said Bob Fisher.

"You don't get it," Morgan lamented, still on her previous subject. "You just don't get it."

Burton Eddy said something about my prior record, but by now everyone was talking at once and I couldn't make it out. Armond heard it and bellowed out his agreement, but Paul was still harping on getting feedback from everyone present while Morgan was still trying to make her point, whatever it was. Howard and Andy had gotten into an argument that somehow drew in Bob Fisher, and Sid was trying to straighten out Kyle on what was and was not acceptable in a ministerial meeting. Nancy Barrons was having trouble taking notes.

I did hear Al Vendetti counter Sid. "I might like to hear what he has to say."

"Me too," said Bob, turning from Howard and Andy.

"If he speaks, I'm leaving this table!" said Armond.

"Now, now . . ." Sid tried to calm things.

"He's my guest!" Kyle objected.

"If either one of you says another word, I'm leaving the table!"

Kyle rose from his chair. I reached over and pulled him down again, but that didn't keep him from saying another word. "We are commanded by the Word of G.o.d to contend for the faith once and for all delivered to the saints, and if there are lies and deception-"

"So now we're all liars?"

"Has anyone seen Jesus?" I asked.

"In the latter days there shall be false christs and false messiahs showing great signs and wonders!" Kyle was preaching by now.

But Sid heard me. "What?"

Howard and Andy stopped arguing and looked my way. "What did he say?"

"In order to deceive, if possible, even the elect! Read your Bible! That's all I'm saying!" Suddenly Kyle noticed how quiet the room was and how everyone was looking at me. He looked at me.

Paul asked, "What was that, Travis?"

I scanned the room, a little jarred by the sudden silence. "I was just wondering, has anyone seen Jesus? That's what this is all about, isn't it?"

For a moment, they just looked at each other.

Morgan offered, "Sally's *angel' spoke about the answer being on his way."

Al said with emphasis, "The pilgrims here are looking for Christ."

Bob built on that. "My person said the angel said *Jesus' was coming."

Suddenly, to the surprise of everyone, Brett Henchle spoke up. "That's what an angel said to me!"

Everyone's head turned so quickly I thought I heard some neck joints crack.

"You saw something?" Sid asked.

"A hitchhiker," said Brett. He quickly recounted the story and then said, "So there's one more side to this. It might not be G.o.d or the devil or myth. It might be some clever huckster moving in on the town, and he might have some friends in on this with him. Now I'm not here to downplay anyone's religion, but I'm not looking for some heavenly vision here, I'm looking for a suspect. You tell the people in your churches that if anyone sees these guys again, I'd like to know about it." He rose from the table. "Thanks for letting me sit in. It was interesting." Then he walked out, his boots clunking on the linoleum in the hall, his portable radio hissing as he clicked it on.

"If Jesus shows up, then we'll really have something to talk about," I said.

Silence.

"Well, if I may change the subject," said Bob Fisher. "As most of you know, we're having a week-long revival with Everett Fudd. We expect the Lord to do some great things and we'd appreciate it if you'd pa.s.s the word around."

"What about the softball team?" asked Paul. "When does that start?"

EVERYTHING WENT WRONG on the way home. Kyle, emotionally wounded, kept bleeding all over me and making it sound like my fault, and I was sour and brooding about a conversation I'd just had with Bob Fisher.

"You just sat there!" Kyle huffed as we drove across town. "These are pastors, ministers, people answerable to the Lord for how they lead their flocks and they get off on this stupid, wishy-washy, tolerance stuff-that's Morgan Elliott's bag, right? She and that Burton what's-his-face. She's some kind of liberal, feminist, radical, politically correct female pastor type, and all the men in there don't want to stand up to her, right?"

"She's a widow, and she made sense."

"Not if she thinks the truth doesn't matter!"

"I was talking about the people-having-needs thing. She's concerned about people, and I think that's commendable."

"At the expense of the truth?"

"That's an entirely different issue."

He really turned on me. "It should bother you!"

I shrugged. "I've already been bothered."

He shook his head in dismay and disappointment. "Something's happened to you, Travis."

I muttered, "Sure it has."

"What'd you say?"

"Nothing."

"And who in the world is that Armond Harrison character?"

"He's a cult leader."

Kyle checked for traffic, jammed on the brakes, and pulled over. "What?"

I did not want to go into it. I didn't have to go into it. I don't know why I did go into it. "He came out here from Michigan with about thirty followers, and they have their meetings in his house over on Maple Street. Some of them work in town; I think a few commute to Spokane. They're just average, hard-working people."

"But they're a cult?"

I ran down the list-an old, wrinkled list ingrained in my mind through months of public and private discussion, debate, accusation, counteraccusation, and vitriol. It was a list peeled off a can of worms, and I would have loved to forget it. "The Apostolic Brethren deny the deity of Christ, don't know diddly-squat about atonement or salvation, and think they're all going to be christs someday because Jesus was just one of many *christs' one of many *sons' of G.o.d. They're into pop psychology-you know, deep meanings behind bodily excretions and private body parts and whether or not your mother breast-fed you. They consider the whole church one big extended family, so they move the kids around from family to family wherever Armond wants them to go. Armond usually requires the young women to live with him for a while so he can teach them about s.e.x-whatever his view of it is, anyway. They, uh, they do things." I wanted to cut this short. "That's about the gist of it."

Kyle's grip on the steering wheel was so tight I thought he'd bend it. "And he's on the ministerial?"

"You have eyes."

"Why isn't anything done about it?"

"Something was done about it."

"But he's still there!"

"End of story."

"But he's a heretic! He's a pervert!"

"n.o.body's asking you."

He yelled at me. "What?"

I tried to explain, even though I was pretty sure it wouldn't do much good. "Kyle, in the long, drawn-out scope of things, it's really none of your business what the Apostolic Brethren do and believe. You can preach the truth just as G.o.d called you to do, but what Armond and his bunch choose to believe is up to them and you're better off just leaving them alone. If you don't believe me, just try to break up their little church. See how far you get. After you fall flat on your face, you can thank G.o.d you live in a country where heretics like Armond Harrison can still roam free, because his freedom is your freedom."

Kyle shook his head. "I can't . . . I can't be on this ministerial!"

"Oh, you'll break their hearts."

"Travis, you're talking like you're in agreement with all this!"

I did not need or desire this conversation. I was looking at the door handle, seriously thinking of bailing out of the car. "Not in agreement. Just wiser, that's all. We did talk about that before we went in, remember?"

"So you just sit and let people like that on the ministerial? You just sit and let me do all the fighting, all by myself? You let me walk right into that wolf pack and don't lift a finger to defend the truth, to help me out?"

"I warned you."

He sighed a deep sigh, shook his head, and reiterated, "Something's happened to you, Travis. I mean, the things I used to hear about you, the great spiritual warrior you used to be. You need to come back to the Lord, Travis. You need to get right with G.o.d."

I grabbed the door handle and just about tore it off. "See you around."

"What are you doing?"

I flung the door open and practically leaped out. "The ride's over." Kyle leaned over, calling to me. "Travis, I'm just trying to help you. You're heading down the wrong road."

I was already walking. "I know my way home, Kyle!"