believe
Believe
1905, Virginia
All you can see is the sun setting over the west, which is sort of ironic which to me symbolizes an end of an era. This can be described as the taming of the grand country of America. As the sun sets in the west, it shows that the name “West” is a dying concept as we enter a new age of modernization, where we don’t see that many cowboys or saloons or even Indians. The Indian and their beliefs in nature gods seemed as ridiculous as believing in Santa, or the Easter Bunny. Yes I must see that we are living in different times, where Cowboys don’t tame the west that often. Horses are being replaced by mechanical wonders, such as cars where science flourishes among the brightest minds. I never wondered that these thoughts of man could be sparked by an all powerful being. I always knew that we were alone on this earth, because why would God have made us believe that it was flat so many years. I had always believed into what I wanted to believe, but my religious parent had always thought otherwise. This had forced my mind to stay into the confines of being in an all powerful being that knew every instance of our lives. How could he let all those bad things happen in the Civil War, where men died by the thousands to the point that even the impoverished Indians wondered what true genocide was really about. It was really a matter that could have easily been negotiated if both parties were willing to listen, but neither was willing to make that choice. It was the human nature of violence that had taken up arms. Take in point the Indians of many tribes that had roamed the land before our forefathers for many generations. They had a form of nobility in their manner as kings of the frontier. They had looked proud in their feathered caps, red skin, tailored weapons and majestic horses as they rode like the wind across the plains in unison, which was a sight to behold. They had decided on fighting back, which had lead to their inevitable destruction, but where was the Gods of Nature that this critical time I wonder….yet we believe.
I was, but a child, when I had those thoughts. It was really my opinion that I smartly kept to myself, due to my father ways with a strap. Despite his religious sense, I showed much love to my father who was a reverend at a church just north of our town we lived in. His love for our individual education balanced my hatred for his obsession with God. He truly knew the importance of love, which to me was a emotion rather than a gift from God. The other recipient of his love was my brother, who wished to follow the exact opposite path as me. It was to devote his time in the light of God. We were not distant however because we had love for each other and fond memories to last a lifetime as children. We both grew distant as time went by, for most men, we saw that nothing must be an obstacle for our goals in life. But I have not told you anything about myself which I now apologize for.
My name is William Angle and I can be described as a white, dusty brown haired boy living in Richmond, living the life as a pastor’s son, who as you can see is little disappointed with the lord. My brother Edward is a tall black haired young man who is 17 ,as I am 15, where I am a little shorter but a little stronger. My mother had died in child birth with me even though my father’s faith had remained strong, which was something that I admired about my father. The scary part of admiration was maybe the person you had idolized was doing a feat that you could not do. My father’s regular job is one of a lawyer which shows his education and oddly enough contrasts his love of the truth, in my opinion. But my father had taken many cases as a lawyer for justice such as freeing African American people from the constraints of living with white people being quite unfair. My father could be seen wearing a tall hat with a bushy beard walking through the streets of Richmond looked upon with contempt as a nigger-loving, educated, man by the many white, rich residents. Oh as we walked through the streets the people would have dirty looks, with much anger, as they forced to give up their money to black folk due to his crafty form of justice. He had once won a case that had awarded a man by the name Fredrick Brown all the back pay he had worked from building and painting a house for Mr. Augustus. It was a grand house, which was well crafted and well constructed. The rich white man in question, had decided on paying the man 1/6 the price he was promised and planned on keeping it that way. My father decided that was not too fair and had another offer to Mr. Augustus, which had swift justice in the end. My Father had a way with words that could convince a wolf to eat cabbage, where he explained with much research that Mr. Augustus had been doing this to all his black employees in the past. He also showed that Mr. Augustus had a wealth of money by all the businesses he had owned. I was there when the verdict had fallen down and watching Mr. Augustus’s face turn bright red, when the verdict was recited was almost priceless. Fredrick had gotten all his money plus some, due to my father’s uncanny ability to well…… be a lawyer. The man was so grateful, he had offered to repair the church in thanks for the money. My fathers skills resulted in many people coming to the congregation of the church which were mainly blacks, converted Indians, and good fair white folk. All were welcomed and it did not matter what you were, for my father believed that was the will of God. He also believed that the will of the lord was not to judge unless you be judged.
The church was the stone of the lord according to the good book, which people strongly believed at that time whether you were black, or white. The good book was really the foundation of what made black and white most similar, even though they often segregated each other’s greatest similarity. The blacks went to their church believing in the lord and the whites went to their church believing in the lord. It was funny that they used the good book as the same tool to spread Christianity towards each other, but took each other for granted as if they were doing different religions. My curiosity towards religion was a fuel for me being pessimistic towards all religions but where was God to quell the tension between the races? Why would a deity that is being praised not all be united in worship that would end racism and make us love one another. I had asked my father for an answer to this, wary of the strap that hung on the kitchen wall.
Instead he simply said “Our church is a start and even in the bible Christianity went through turmoil and hardships with people being fed to lions and other forms of persecution. Christianity lived on and not only lived on but grew throughout the world after being started by a band of thirteen men, who was really one man who sacrificed all for us. God molds the future for us and we must show him that we are people that are ready to do good so that good spreads throughout the future for all of us.”
I looked a little confused that day and said “So you mean we are meant to lead by example, so the future is brighter” My father smiled “now you are getting it son” He put on his coat and patted me on the head with his black shaved beard and tall Lincoln like hat. “You know the answers son, but don’t let the confusion of questions fool you. Sometimes faith is all you need”. I thought about this for moment. I realized that his answers were something that was lead by faith, which seemed that he had unfairly advantage in arguments. I scolded a little but had love for my father as I watched him go on his horse to go to his small but successful law firm in the middle of town. He never trusted those cars, or any new technology for that matter, as if we were going back in time. He had a gun though not for protection but to hunt game as if we were living in the Wild West.
We sometimes went to the market but my father rather enjoyed hunting in his spare time for he had theory of hunting. “If a bobcat can hunt a rabbit, why can’t I, but if I hunt a human, I will be hung so I can’t”. This was something he would say on the belief that Christianity had brought laws to people of the idea of murder even though he was open to other religions. He often incorporated religions in his sermons as something of comfort to those who were starting to believe without comprising the gospel. He prized his gun which was a Winchester rifle with engraved initials of his father, which it had originally belonged. It may have killed countless animals but it had never hurt a person in its 25 year existence.
The church could be described as a small wooden church near some trees that had looked beautiful in the fall. The wood was cut and tempered, and each board of cut oak trees was nailed together by the community of the town, north of Richmond. This was made up of many different people that most would seem had no business being together in the first place. They brought together by mostly curiosity of seeing one man in his spare time hammering and cutting wood as if he had a full congregation. Slowly but surely, one man would help him out and by example ,as my father had said above, more and more would come. It was probably the sheer determination of one man in the cold winter and hot summer trying to build a church all by himself that caused many to heed the call. It was as if God was watching them letting this man do it all by himself. My father believed that’s how Jesus won people over as well. So you would see a bunch of people cut, shave, measure, and nail a church together in only two years. Many believed God was a part, so they simply came to mass after building it. The church was not fancy but unpainted wood put in a great orderly form, where they had cut the wood in a dome like shape(nothing close to a cathedral but a feat non the less). They carved crosses on the sides of the dome and oddly enough put a small 4 foot cross on top of it. I had expected better, but for my father this had sufficed for his pleasure in the church. The church had a huge barn- like door to it that opened up to show almost all the church with specially carved out pews that even had a holder with a bible in each pew. Unfortunately their was not enough money for any fancy windows or any windows but the light the barn door had let in showed a heavenly glow in the summer anyways. Oh my ….you could see people coming from all areas in America sitting down to a service ….White Southerners, Black Southerners, White Northerners, Black Northerners, all different tribes of Native Americans, Spanish and converted Asians, who best known for their contributions to the railways. All these people sat down and worked hard for a living and seeing that they had built this church from the ground up had given them faith. They believed some force had brought them together to achieve this as they had sat anywhere they wanted and praised God. You often saw people enjoying the sermon as they sat with fans knowing that they are the foundation or stone. They were always welcome. You could see more successful blacks and whites in cotton dresses and suits as well as farmer blacks and whites in rugged overalls sitting or standing listening to the sermon. You could see Indians standing in the background, often too shy to come forward even though they were welcome in their tradition gear. The altar had a huge cross in the back made of simple wood but awe inspiring non the less. This was where my father had preached to the masses and was proud of his church. My beliefs?…..Not bad father but I believed that this was simple coincidence that people were simply believing that God had done what their arms, backs, minds and curiosity had accomplished. Maybe this was faith but in the form of persuasion by my father, who didn’t know that he was doing it; by the psychology of people seeing him alone build a church which made them believe in this all powerful being that had brought them together. No, it was the seeing this man accept other people, which sort of alienated the others. I am not saying they were not good but they sort of just believed in themselves to build the church and be a flourishing church community. I just didn’t see the world as my father did or my brother who was trying to follow in his footsteps. He loved us both the same but I simply believed in doubt ,which was sort of my beliefs.
My father was very inspirational speaker that touched the hearts of many, who sat peacefully and anxiously awaited the poetry like sermon that was heard from a mighty strong voice. His southern Virginian dialect with a strong deep voice was almost like no otherthat it made you feel that it echoed off of heaven itself. The whites prayed in their usual calmness, which was common among them as they seemed to try to show respect in their manner as they prayed. The blacks were quite different often responding to the good reverend’s sermons with dance and movement in the hallways. They actually seemed to feel the lord flow through them. The first day and the days that followed it happened there was a sense of being uncomfortable, but my father with his shrewd manipulation responded to Miss Wellingtons stares. Miss Wellington was a visiting aristocrat from lower Alabama, who was used to segregation in her state but whose resident son was a believer. This man, like many others, had helped build this place. She was no racist but believed that things should always be separate a little and found this church to be mighty strange and uncomfortable. My father had looked into her direction and noticed she was looking at the black members of the congregation as very different, for their hyper response to the sermon and physical emotional movements.
My father, from his altar, simply said “Now we are all here to praise the lord for we all have the same purpose my friends, which is to honor the same lord and savior with who we are. I have a question to ask. How much do you love the lord in your own way?”
That quote opened a sea of discomfort and confusion among all the races which sat and stood looking at each other. My father then said “Thomas and his family love the lord more than anyone in this building by the looks of it…gosh….They express the lord by dancing and talking to Jesus himself…shoot…. they might have a free pass to go to heaven right now”
The church looked bewildered except Thomas and his family that responded by showing beautiful white toothed grins even though they were very black and probably very poor. The reverend smiled slapping the altar and clapping his hands in joy for God. He was secretly staring at Mrs. Wellington, who was a Catholic and extremely religious in her community in Alabama. She looked like she was not trying to be uptight but she showed the look of being overly jealous at the idea that someone of any ethnicity, black or white, loving the lord more than her. The reverend in the corner of his eye could easily see her emotions turning into anger, which put a smile on his face.
He whipped his head around and said “Why Mrs. Wellington you are our honored guest and I know you love the lord very much with all your heart …..right”
Stunned by being picked out by my father like that put an odd expression of surprise on Mrs. Wellington’s face who spoke saying “Why yes….I love the lord with all my heart but….”
“Your Catholic I heard, and you even belong to a choir right”
Mrs Wellington spoke more softly saying “Yes.. Yes(more confidently) I sing every Sunday and practice Wednesday with my church….why do you ask?”
My father smiled saying “Why we would all love to hear your beautiful voice….I have heard its pretty good from your son you know”
For the first time she smiled saying “really? you have given quite a complement but I am old I never sung by myself”
My father responded earnestly “Well try; we don’t usually try to force people to sing but a beautiful lady like yourself can probably belt a tune”
Mrs Wellington smiled to herself blushing. In most cases she would not do it but the competitive nature that my father slickly created, made her stand and belt out a tune. She sang “Amazing grace” for 5 minutes in voice that could melt anyone’s heart, who ever had a grandma or mother. It was fine singing, but honestly that touch of an elderly voice to it made it beyond good. It was even more than my father expected. The church was silent at first but burst into applaud to the elegance of the song. She was nervous at first when she sung it but slowly gained confidence to do her first solo performance. She looked down grinning to herself trying to help herself from blushing further.
Thomas turned around and looked at her and said “You sung nice you luv da lord mam”
“I guess I do….smiling to herself not to be outdone but having appreciation for even Thomas”
My father looked satisfied laughing “We all show expression for the lord in our own special way but even though the path is different the destination is the same…..the lord”
That’s how my father worked bringing everyone together through love, but there was a serious side to him as well. He preached sermons that he no longer had a kind voice, but bellowed it through the church that rang throughout the wooden pillars. No one danced or sang or talked when my father spoke from the good book. He put the gospel in his own words that in a sense taught lessons. I simply thought that the purpose of church was for people to fear the consequences of doing an obvious wrong action and to give them a feeling of self elation for just following the law. To a further extent, maybe be nice to someone else who is more of a stranger than a loved one. You reward yourself by getting acceptance from God, which hasn’t been proven to exist. It is better than getting admiration from another human being for doing something that you should have done anyway. I always thought church was a beacon for this kind of behavior both good and bad. Mainly good, but bad for a human being to think highly for themselves. This was my opinion anyway.
I remembered a very unusual sermon from my father that had put a chilly fear in my bones. The talk of the devil’s wrath, which was more of an alternative consequence to the idea of living in a great, happy existence in the very cloudy heaven in the skies. No, this was an alternative that lead to going far underground in the very center of the earth that was past the dirt and rock. I guess your soul would be sent there, which would move past all those obstacles to your new domain. It was thought that the heat from that place would melt your skin and you would dwell there until the end of time. There was many different ways to describe hell, which were all bad and often lead to many different forms of discomfort. It was expressed to you, hideously, at your own expense due to the lifestyle you chose. That discomfort would be exposed to you at a horrible level till you basically cracked. You then wished that you could go back and tell yourself to be more generous in life. That wish, like many others, will be kept from you as you realize that this is your new home for all eternity and the path to righteousness is too late; where the inhabitants of heaven watch in glee as your tortured senselessly by the demons around you. The word “too late” is what scared me above the myths of being covered by maggots or that other nonsense. If a greater being created the world, why wouldn’t you be put the souls of righteous in one place and the damned in the other? I mean the only thing that I agreed with the bible was some of the laws that it had instilled in place like “thou should not kill or lie”. I know I am not a believer but this was an idea that my brother had put into my mind when I told him that this was nonsense.
He had told me softly “If there is no God then why were these rules put in place if he had not loved me to give me a world that has law?”
He was chopping wood at the time on a stump often pausing when looking around at nature in his slacks in front of our house. I looked bewildered at his similar responses to fatherthat went against everything I usually argued about. I kicked a rock in frustration on how I could not convince my father or brother to at least consider my ways.
My brother wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled saying “who made the laws of gravity that made that rock come down from the air?”
I smiled “Newton of course but he was a human”
My brother calmly lifted the axe ready for another swing and said “I said who made the laws not prove them, which is an entirely different thing”
I looked angry for I had no answer for this but I said in an educated voice “They follow math with equations and those equations are absolute. In fact math is the only thing that can be proven, which goes against what your saying” My brother looked up into the sky and began stretching in pain from cutting this wood with this heavy axe “why doesn’t the clouds fall”
I paused for a minute thinking “they have different equations for evaporated water”
“why does it have properties like that”
I thought longer and said “they just do”.
My brother slowly picked up the wood from the ground and said “When you come to the point that “they just do” then God is the only explanation left……..infinite unknown”
I annoyingly spoke “But there will always be a way to explain it in the future”
“And there will always be an unknown that cannot be explained. I mean according to science a tree bears fruit in order to spread its seeds through animals, right? Well what tells the tree that the animal will like to eat the fruit? If the tree has no eyes or ears….How does it know? How does the seed know to be hard enough to withstand the acids in the stomach of the animal? Well is the tree a chemist or a material scientist? Another tree spreads its seed through gliders that use the wind. Well is the tree an aeronautical engineer as well?( flight was at its infancy, but there were attempts and success with the Wright brothers) How does everything fit into place so nicely without something thinking about it? Are you going to say they just do?”
My brother then walked back into the house with all his wood making the fact that he won the argument like nothing at all. I really hated my family that could be with God or not. I suddenly thought about another argument, which was why the heck were there rules in the first place? I mean, if there was a God why were we not God- like as well? Why were we nothing but animals that worshipped this being in the first place? Why was there rules that guided us in the first place, which made someone believe that because I think therefore I am. It was a conundrum that both questioned the existence of a God or No God by having rules to a certain point. It was based on who made the rules and why the rules existed in this fashion. As if it was puzzles designed for our intellect to master but constantly go farther. I should have mentioned to my brother that the point of, they just do, is the point where religion is often formed. It explained the churches needed the halt of science going past that point of, they just do. There will be always a point of they just do for a limited time. I repeat….a limited time. I smiled then frowned. My brother would probably say “Religion that was based on nature is now based on human emotion, thinking, love, laws, and discipline which has no beginning so there is no “they just do”. I didn’t know how to beat him and why I predicted what he would say.
Anyway the argument was won by my brother as usual by the love of God or some crap.
Anyway the thing that made me think the most about beliefs and hell was an unusual sermon that father had spoken that had even commanded respect. There was silence from those who often vocally expressed God, which were aimed at the African Americans. The other races, who kindly shown prayer for God in a form of meditation, now were entranced with the vibrant verses of my father. You could see them looking with their eyes wide open, taking in everything that came from my fathers mouth. I even though I was a nonbeliever, I was somewhat effected by the sound of my father's voice, which commanded respect even from me. Everyone sat in an orderly way that showed that maybe it was more of fear than love. I smiled at that for they believed in something that to me didn’t exist in any tangible form. Why think that the water will turn to blood according to my dad when it hasn’t and probably will not in the future. But there was one sermon that made me think about it which came from my dad which ironically is the day I met Ben Cott.
Ben Cott and the sermon
As I entered the wooden church one day on a hot summer afternoon, which was the usual fiery mornings you would find in Virginia. It was common to see overweight men to even skinny young children wipe their faces with white rags on any race. The women usually had fans, which cooled them that if they were bee wings. The front row of church looked like a hive of bees fluttering their wings in order to take off and fly away. The heat was extremely hot this morning that gave me a bad vibe of whether this was a usual occurrence or some divine sign of the sermon I was about to hear. Another thought came to mind under this horrible heat which was that Satan had come up from hell and brought the heat with him to enter this church. I didn’t know why I thought that but I actually scared myself for a moment. I laughed at that and entered my usual seat which was the last row of pews. They were a little not finished but still served its purpose for seating. As I turned into the church after getting handshakes from everyone for just being the pastor’s son and waiting patiently in line between a black and Indian family for my seat. I was just going through the wooden beams and I saw someone who I had never seen sitting there in my seat as if he had never entered here. But by the looks of his appearance and the fact that I knew everyone intimately I knew that he was a stranger. So he probably had never entered this place and this was the first time he had seen this unusual looking church. He was dressed in a formal black suit with his legs crossed in a confident manner, which was out of place the way other people dressed in this church even the rich ones. He had sandy blonde hair and a red tie with spectacles sat lazily on his nose as if he could care less about paying attention to the sermon. His posture was that of someone who could have been of nobility of some sorts but didn’t dress the part. He wore a top hat was rounded around the corners that didn’t seem fashionable for a place like church. This was where many didn’t wear a hat for respect for God. He could seem to care less about what anyone thought as I approached my unfinished seat to wonder what to say to this thin medium height man.
He noticed me on the side of his eyes and spoke to me as I walked up to him silently under the chatter of people being prepared for church. “Oh young sir I am sorry that I disturbed your church…You are talking to me about my membership of course”
His voice sound like that of a refined young man that had money even to see the world, which I had craved to do with my life. “No, No bother all are welcomed here …no membership required…I was just wondering about my seat?”
“Oh I am sorry sir but aren’t you the pastor's son and shouldn’t you be sitting up front instead of this unfinished seat in this dark corner over here?”
That made me feel uncomfortable for no other church member ever questioned why I didn’t sit up front with my brother near my father. It actually made me think about it and since I had no answer the next emotion was…anger at this man who was never in this church inquiring about my seat.
Before I could express it he spoke with a thin smile “Well I don’t question a man where he sits but I don’t like being up front either so I suggest that we share this seat as goodwill to men”
I looked puzzled at his answer but never noticed until now that there was just enough room for two people to sit there or the fact that I had just questioned my reason for being in church with temporary anger. I was mannerly gestured by him to sit down on the unfinished pew and got warm firm hand shake from him
“The names Ben Cott and how do you do young sir”
I felt a little uncomfortable saying “Oh yes my name is William Angle and I hope you find what your looking for” “Ben’s grin widened “Oh I probably will….Oh I probably will”
I looked into Ben Cott’s face and noticed that he was of young age maybe in his late teens which made me think of him as a possible friend, which removed what was left of my anger of him. He crossed his legs ever so confident, as I mentioned, with a look of mild interest of his holy surroundings. He didn’t even look in my direction but continued to talk to me as if I was paying attention to his every word. The funny part I was paying full attention to this unusual man that gave off a feeling of not caring one bit about where he was or even where he was going.
Cott spoke saying “I am not really a religious man but I feel that I can come to one of these buildings and enjoy the sermon…..well its good for my lecture”
I couldn’t believe that I didn’t see it before, where he came off as an educated man by his clothes and mannerisms. He looked attentively at the sermon now, which gave me disappointment that my loathing for religion would impede us from being fast friends.
I simply nodded in disappointment asking him in a annoyed lethargic voice “what is your lecture about….another priest in training or (in a more annoyed voice) a reverend or(in a sarcastic voice) an altar boy… Ben Cott was silent for a moment then bellowed a laugh as if he understood my emotions, when I was talking to him.
It was loud in a way that echoed through the church but it only disturbed a few seated Asians that turned around to look. Ben looked at me and my confusion and said “No I lecture in science of things not religion ….heck I don’t even believe”
I looked confused and he answered my question before it came out of my mouth “The only reason that I am here is the same reason Sherlock Holmes would go to Professor Moliarty own lectures if you have read Sir Conan Author Doyle of course”
I shook my head in even deeper confusion
“Well they were arch enemies in the books that were written by the author, where both men believed in observation of the situation to solve or cause crimes. In other words you must see the viewpoint of all aspects of things in order to understand them.
I was merely stating by example that Sherlock Holmes would study a person like his arch enemy before trying to tackle taking him on. “So what your saying is that this church is your arch enemy” I have never been more confused but also interested at the same time.
“No it is not my arch enemy but I must confess that I don’t believe in it but I believe that places like this impede science discovery for the hungry mind”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well everything can be explained by science but I believe that religion forces that discovery of how something works to be watered down as something that is controlled by a supernatural being. The question of WHY doesn’t yield many different answers but one answer ….GOD. It's like many roots (medicine, physics, biology, chemistry..etc) coming up to one tree(God)….but we don‘t explain why go to that tree you see and the roots get more tangled every time. I believe that by cutting down that tree we can plant a whole eternal forest of new trees leading up to that question “why”
I could see the reasons behind his logic, but why was he here in this church of all places. He answered that question before I could ask it.
“I am here with no disrespect to your father but I heard he could convince anyone to believe in the Lord and that he was a passionate speaker so I was curious”
Ben looked nervous telling this to me probably because I was the preacher's son but I was a little nervous myself for I never met anyone that was a disbeliever like me. I was embarrassed by the fact I was the preachers son, but Ben made me feel uncomfortable coming into a church to disprove it. Maybe it was feelings for the church or my Dad but I felt that someone, who respected the church would not try to tear it down. Was Ben making me feel…..religious or maybe a strange loyalty to a place that I help build or even having faith? I dismissed that immediately and just came to the conclusion that I didn’t like him.
I was still thinking to myself …. Ben said “I can give you a copy of Sherlock Holmes, you know, to read if you like” I was taken back by this gesture for I was an avid reader with copies of Jules Vern, which were my favorite. I didn’t know how to perceive this which made me feel wrong for trying to give him the cold shoulder. But I was also a man of science and knew that he would make a wonderful ally in the fight against my brother’s faith. I also knew that I was somehow betraying my father, who was preaching gospel this whole time as if my distractions were a double crime. Was it loyalty that haunted me in discusses these things or something far more spiritual that had rubbed off on me from constantly coming here. I simply nodded my head to Ben in an instant thought that lead to me accepting his offer. The preachings that my father was doing was routine things where he read from the bible, then preached in different styles, the benediction and such. Everyone enjoyed this but it was my father’s powerful sermons that did the trick, when it came to fame and awe. It was like reading a book to your favorite storyline in a character’s particular point of view. The other points of view of the other characters were interesting and helped structure the story but you wanted the story from your favorite character in a book. You often just read faster to get to his or her storyline then you read like nothing else mattered. You were then enthralled in the book. Sorta like the scenes with Captain Nemo in the book “20,000 leagues under the sea” That was what it was like to get to my father's sermons. I was almost excited into what Ben would say after he heard my father’s sermon. I knew that he wasn’t going to be converted but he would see why people of all nationalities showed up. Ben seemed uncomfortable with my silence, as we sat in the dark room probably because he thought that he insulted the preacher’s son who had mad faith. He just accidentally ran into a partial disbeliever very similar to himself.
I purposely stopped talking to him in hopes to relieve my strange guilt inside, for I was literally fascinated by the way he talked, dressed, and acted. It was not something, I myself, wanted to attain but liked being in the company of it.
I was wondering how I would depart from Cott until he spoke. “I noticed that this church contains a large amount of people of all races. I see Asians, Negroes, and Native americans….oh my. By all of science, how did you obtain a set of all these different people?” The way he spoke it was like the people were a set of good china from the four corners of America.
I hesitated, at first, deciding on playing the part of the preachers son and then said “It's what my Dad calls faith where God has brought all these people together in unison as one to pray to him”
Ben Cott smiled to that “Is God ….a him?, which hooked all these fishes in the boat? Why can’t it be a she or is it unisex”
He seemed to be over trying to worry about insulting me and more aimed at proving his point “God created females and males right so why can’t he be a “her” or in his magnificence he decided that men should be dominant or so our societies believe.”
I thought about it. I was then thinking that women right now were fighting for their rights and it didn’t even occur to them that God could be the sole purpose ,for not just now, but since the beginning of time. They had female deities in many different cultures, but not many worshipped one as the main leader of all the Gods. My thoughts were expressed in Ben’s next statement “maybe that’s why we have looked down at our women and they never thought to change it…ironic”
I was a stout disbeliever but I found myself defending the church anyways “Faith is God, Faith is the hope for all people but what is faith? Is it a woman or man but a feeling or emotion that relates to us all whether we are anything at all. And yes faith is what brought these people together and it yields no sexuality. Man has for all time fashioned God in his image but its faith that has brought us together and since faith is hope then all women are HOPING for equal rights under God’s faith. I believe in women‘s suffrage and I believe that the way women are being mistreated over the years is atrocious. They are our mothers that result in the production of men of all races. Just as the black man has fought to rise from ashes after its culture has long since burnt much like the phoenix that must endure this. But isn’t the phoenix the same in its form, prior to being ablaze but only more radiant from having those hardships. Women will do great things in the future so their time is coming. Doesn’t God watch from above making these things happen.”
Ben smiled at that with much disbelief saying as he changed posture with much uncomfortable movements as if he was having trouble keeping up with me. “Why do bad things happen then?”
Ben looked me in the eye for that one
“I guess that darn old Satan is Jesus’ nemesis in the things you do bad”
Ben paused silently waiting for an answer as if he was fed up with the back talk that I was copying from my family. “Well you see that things happen for a reason…..for progress of the human race that’s all.”
Ben responded “I don’t understand and I think you don’t either”
I signed and closed my eyes where I just spoke “I believe if a person dies it’s a tragedy but if you look closely the human spirit or man will live on. You see the humans learn through God to continue and pass the gospel to other generations and through his will, we will only progress in everything”
Ben looked astounded at my answer as he looked me in the eyes serious-like and then lost posture by clapping and laughing. “Bravo young sir you could make me into a believer! I like the loyal ones like you….I bet you would recite hail Mary’s with a gun to your head…Ha Ha”
He went back to looking serious-like saying “What about guns and all these weapons coming about? Why would God allow us to evolve to have them unless death is in order! I didn’t know what “evolve” meant but it took me a second to respond
“God gives us many different tools but it is the human spirit and the choice of humans who decide to use them. You can kill with a sword as well as a gun but humans are still here aren’t they?"
Ben just smiled “for now preacher…for now”
I felt like my brother and even father arguing like this with Ben Cott this way, but I didn’t know how to handle it. I thought to myself even though I didn’t like Ben Cott, I was becoming well a preacher and I didn’t understand it. Ben Cott was me ,in a sense, but I couldn’t understand it but it was the way I thought.
I was going to finally tell the man I did not believe but the church was beginning to hush down from all this chatter to hear my father’s sermon. It forced me to be quiet because we would now be heard as my father walked up to the wooden podium with his head held down looking at the pages of his bible. He then looked up as his face as it reflected the lights of the open windows of the church. The church was now quiet to a whisper that left a faint cry of a baby to be the only sound to be heard. The people quietly looked attentively at my father as if they were staring down in his soul. Finally the white farmer’s baby was comforted, who sat at the back.
My father raised his strong arms in prayer and quietly asked God to guide him into the hearts of everyone who resided in this church. Amen
The sermon
My father talked in his powerful and magnificent voice that had brought all people who had no business to be knowing one another or associating in this particular time period. But here they all were.
“What will we talk about today, my people of this wonderful church that has showed you that we are all the same in the eyes of the Lord that blesses us and our children. Jesus Christ of Nazareth is known for his kindness and Lovethat he shows to all the children of the Lord. Can you look upon a baby of any race and not smile at its innocence and beauty; for its beginning of life. It is the beginning of the earth that showed us that the rib of the Adam created Eve and started this beautiful cycle. God is the carpenter that shaped us in his image so our beginning is all the same. It’s not a coincidence we are all here in this church for we are all Gods creations and he had worked painstakingly to create each and every one of you. Like a baby, this church is a beginning as innocent and fragile as a child in his crib. We will work to not show bigotry to one another, but allow this love and kindness for one another to grow as if it is life itself. But as we get buried in the earth this church’s love will be immortal and rise from the cave as Jesus walked on the third day. We will be going to heaven, hand and hand, to meet the Lord but generations after us will allow the blessed commitment to strive so that the future can have a chance. But what of the sinners that walk with hate and despair for that’s the only thing, they have known in their lives. It is our duty as Christians to show love and a helping hand for these people. Jesus sat with the sinners much more than the holy, for the sinners need Christ’s love more than even than a saint. We are in the business of healing and not accusing with the gossip of many, who become another man’s jury. Did not God say that “he who has not sinned toss the first stone”
Many people looked at each other in sad looking eyes for they realized that non of them not even the most kind white person was much different than any other person in the church. They were just a bunch of people who were living life with raising their kids and really coming to church. They did it for bless reassurance that they religiously above most people. Just for coming to church they would relieve all the sins each person was guilty for. But listening to my father; you can see the need that people felt that they desired or even craved. This need was the feeling of contentment in their lives that they were really good people far beyond just self-belief. They knew that they were going to be good people, for no one but themselves, or the free trip to the wonderland known as heaven. They were going to do it for their future alright, but the continuation of the spread of righteousness for generations to come. The white children would hopefully learn that they could live with other races as one nation rather than a white only nation. This prohibits the progression of races like black to strive in a land, where they only know the feeling of race-isolation. Black children will hopefully learn that when they get that chance to grab every opportunity and not dash upon the ground to be wasted. For the heart of every race in America is the chance to prove themselves in any field or any occupation beyond any doubt. In essence we will come to time that everyone will learn to simply just live and tolerate each other and that’s what my father was going to prepare them for. Doubts had gone in my mind that with all the racism and lynching that was going ; maybe the preparation was too fresh like fruit, where it had to mature so others could taste the excellence of being free. I often wondered that maybe what my father was doing was too early for the residence of this town. I continued to listen to my father's sermon after drifting away in thought almost forgetting about Mr. Cott who just sat there in full attention.
My father just lifted his hand in prayer with his eyes closed as he spoke.
“We have spoken about why we should do the right thing but we haven’t spoken about why we should not do the wrong thing. The wrong thing has his roots in our self consciousness as we were once pure innocent as Satan tempted the newly formed couple with the fruit of wisdom. Ever since that day, we our tempted by Satan’s voice in the back of our minds. We now have lost the command of the beasts and our trust in God. Yes, yes this may be farfetched to believe with all the talk of non believers.” My father just briefly looked at me in the eyes for a moment and then looked away as if he had failed in something somehow. “We are given strange ideas from many different sciences and people who just don’t believe in God. This is their opinion but what of Satan whispering in their ears and the one where God HIMSELF gives you an ultimatum. Ignore the temptation of the foul demon Satan as he tempts you to do his will for the battle for your soul or suffer the evitable fate of coming closer to the existence of living without God. Hell is the least of your troubles, because you will become a creature that has no love for his fellow man and that is something a non believer can even relate too as well. When you finally see the wretched creature you have become as you do sin after sin ; Satan just smiles at his final creation and his new edition to his domain. You can be rich or poor, black or white but there is no discrimination in hell as the skin crackles and bubbles hotly, as you will suffer. There is no amount money to pay for repentance, for Satan does not deal with currency of this world. But there is a way to come back by seeing how cold your soul has become, where even if you don’t believe, a place cannot exist without love for our fellow man. Hate always leads to destruction and sins are disregarding their brother and that leads to HATE. God has created a system where we are linked by our current society and by how our afterlife will be. As our world destroys ourselves we are lead on a path of death that can only lead into Satan’s hands.”
My father looked fearful to even himself as he spoke in a deep southern voice. He looked at the crowd with eyes that could be described as accusing as if he already knew the sins of the people in the church already. The people clutched their children and others standing looked uncomfortable. They all thought that this sermon was for them ,but secretly and selfishly, I believed it was for me.
My father spoke loudly “Even Jesus himself was very close to be tempted by the serpent beyond just a whisper. He made an appearance to Christ our lord himself as it was documented he went to the Wilderness to fast 40 days and 40 nights!"
My father bellowed this last part for it was quite a feat to fast like that.
“As Jesus stayed up there, he hungered for food for he was part human. He probably had pains in his stomach as it twisted itself inhumanly like squeezing the water out of a rag ever screaming for any type of sustenance. He was human so he probably thought to eat the plants or his own fingers or a field mouse even. But he continued to pray as he believed God would watch out for him. He must have lost a life threatening amount of weight, where you could see his ribcage hugging to his skin but he continued to pray as the elements of this human vessel began to set in. He did this probably in a disillusion state in the offset of madness in this hot sun, which he still believed. While he was in this state, Satan appeared with his jagged smile figuring no one has refused him in this need yet in his existence without God. Satan talked to him gently at first saying that this pain could all go away with fresh baked bread as Jesus probably salivated at the mere thought. The rocks changing to bread or something that can be eaten. The memories as Jesus as a child probably set in, where he had eaten some bread his mother had bought for him. He was talking to the corrupt Pharisees and trying to spread the word of God. The smell of the bread was what made Jesus feel an unbearable pain as his body begged to accept the deal and be done with it. Jesus then thought about his father and closed his eyes and ignored Satan and began to pray in defiance. Satan’s jagged grin turned into a snare for he did not just whisper to Jesus but appeared to him in his greatest state of need. He realized that his will was strong but man’s desire for power always overcomes the faith of god. So many rulers have succumbed to stop believing in any form of religionthat would deny them money or power. This was the ultimate way to bring out the evil in man for they love controlling other men. Satan grinned at the thought where these rulers didn’t understand who was controlling them. Satan went back to a whisper and gently said “I will give you all the kingdoms of the world and make you ultimate ruler if you will kneel before me” Satan’s grin widened as he felt content as God who had kicked him out of heaven would have his only Son bow before him. Satan’s evil glowing confidence grew as he approached the son of God revealing his talon hoofed cursed foot. This foot had stepped on the souls of the damned and now approached the son of God in his most vulnerable state prepared to be worshipped by the seed of God. Satan bellowed a laugh with his snake like tongue. But Jesus just prayed to God ignoring all the temptations and simply ignored Satan. Satan screamed in anger for losing this prized soul that outweighed all the souls currently in hell. Satan screamed as he returned back to his domain in violent anger turning around one last time to see Jesus praying, not just for God but for all of us. Satan disappeared from the rocky mountain as the sun came out in aluminous beauty as a symbol of hope for us all. If Jesus can make this sacrifice and then make a greater one later then maybe we can do the right thing for us all. Church has ended and we can all go in peace”
The people of the church were amazed by the sermon with fear and joy at the same time. My father closed the bible and walked slowly down from the podium kissing the holy cross. People began to vacate the church in single row in the center of the aisle not before shaking hands with each other.
Ben looked pretty impressed but I got a statement I expected from his atheist mindset “You know the whispering he is talking about is in psychology where he is talking about conscience and ignoring that conscience. These are forms of thinking within the mind where different thoughts that shape the mindset and ultimately your decision.”
I was sort of becoming a believer and wanted Ben Cott to shut the hell up. As I turned to talk to him he just disappeared. I looked wildly around wondering how he did that magic trick and then fearing that he was a ghost of some sorts. As I looked though the congregation for the Ben Cott and suddenly believing that he might have had something to do with the devil; my father patted my back. He looked at me in confusion asking what the heck I was looking for?
I said “nothing father just impressed by your sermon”
My father smiled saying “If I can impress you then I am doing my job”.
We both smiled at each other for that “Well I am going back to the house so don’t forget your chores”
My father turned around and I slowly touched his elbow saying “I may not believe in everything you do but I love you cause you loved me and if Jesus believes in that then I am a believer” We looked at each other with large grins and we both went our way.
Belief was something that had to be earned in some senses, where you sacrificed your desires to accommodate a way of life for that belief. I would later try to make sense of it all to myself but it was a test of time to every religion of some sorts. I may have defended my father’s and brother’s religion, but I was still skeptical of God and trying to live by those constraints. But I loved my father so much that I practically converted to his religion, when someone tried to oppose his strong beliefs. I thought about that day weeks later and wondered why I didn’t just agree with Ben Cott so we could be friends. Instead it leads to actually hate for the man, which was proof that I loved my father more than my own beliefs. It was strange but Ben Cott seemed like a part of me that decided on not believing for very sensible reasons. Reasons that I had shared but had disappeared in thin air much like Ben Cott. I could not forget him though even though I had not seen him for weeks. His reasons for leaving my father’s religion behind were not only sensible but were desirable after what happened to my father some 8 weeks later.
He was shot down by an assassin’s bullet in the middle of town where noone had seen anything. The town was mostly populated by white people who could care less about the negro or anybody for that matter. The main desire in this town was being segregated and finding ways to line your pockets from segregation. An upstart nigger who began believing that he or she was someone often found there selves hung from a tree or even worse, as if death by suffocation was a easy path. The idea that anybody didn’t find white people right all the time was even dangerous to white people who didn’t agree with it. The local klan or even normal white citizens often were the people, who upheld that idea that would at a regular basis lynch a nigger. The strange thing was these people believed in God and went to their white churches but at a regular basis broke many ideas of God such as murder and loving thy brother. Even believing that people of color were subhuman made no sense for the scriptures of the bible were founded in the middle east and Africans were mentioned more than white in the texts. (You could count Jewish people as white but as a old man I witnessed world war 2 and realized that people liked to make their own beliefs over what is right) Even painting a black Jesus was like servile insurrection to most of these people but my father believed Jesus represented more of a symbol of brotherly love than actually worrying about his appearance. Sure he had lived and died for our sins but my father was pretty sure that he could care less about what he looked like. Over truly understanding his message was really the important part, which was to love unconditionally to the point that the commandments came naturally. That was the message that my father tried to practically yell out to Virginia, which was that it should come out naturally. You should just know the commands not just from memory but from instinct. One time my father’s friend was lynched who was working in his congregation as a middle aged black man from Tennessee that had moved here with his family and befriended my father. His name was Thomas Crowe and he had befriended my father. He was a devote Christian and an avid family man with two daughters with a Christian wife. He was a hard worker who was a quiet able body that truly believed that blacks and whites can coexist, when he had seen what my father accomplished. He had truly accomplished a lot to where everyone was almost comfortable going to church together.
Anyway going back to the story my father was sitting around our kitchen table talking to him about expanding the congregation and Thomas just laughed, for he was a delight to be around saying “You can’t just convince everyone to see your point of view my friend”
Thomas’s voice was clear and deep while revealing a strong good soul.
My father responded by saying “Not when this view is the view Jesus sees from heaven above. Look we can do it, I believe it so why can’t you”
Thomas was an educated man, who saw vision but always took caution. He slowly took off his spectacles and looked my father in his eyes “We can’t just change things my friend so quickly….it takes time and a lot of healing. People can’t just….well…believe you after years of anger and hate”
Thomas shook his head smiling slowly probably seeing this man’s madness and just accepting that. Thomas slowly put his strong hands on the table and used it to get up. He was much weakened by this ,for before he had gotten an education he had lifted boxes, at the docks as the only means to support his family. Maybe a little too much for negroes were paid very little. His medium frame body could only take so much but it was a living I guess. My father personally educated the man where he spent time on him and even letting him borrow money till he obtained a job. Yes I was rather fond of the man who had a deep voice but a heart of gold. He was the nicest man white or black you ever met. It was night and he was walking home not minding anyone’s business or giving anyone a hassle as we know of. It was after the talk and he hugged my father preparing to say goodbye in a most loving friendship way.
He turned around and looked at me saying “God bless you and your father”
Those were the last known words he ever said to me which haunt me to this very day. He walked away whistling to the vibrate beat of the insects and birds that sung in the night air as if he was truly going to make it home to his two daughters and kiss them goodnight.
We found him later that morning hung by a rope on a old oak tree as the dawn shown its first light. His spectacles were seen on the ground broken to pieces as the metal lining was twisted and the glass cracked with a touch of blood. It showed that he was hit in the face with a blunt object repeatedly as the glasses were still on his face. He was just looking down on the ground in a lifeless daze as his eyelids were partially open due to the force of the strangulation. He had an emotionless look on his face as the rigor mortis had set in, where his skin had hardened to shown an inhuman hideous face. This was all shown worse as the light from the rising sun came over the horizon. Blood stains on his body shown that he was repeatedly stabbed by a sharp object showing no mercy on the part of the killers for even in this state. They decided on hanging him up on a tree. Who could do this to a fellow human being just for being a middle aged black man walking home on a dirt road for the crime of just being black. No other reason or logic. Just being black at that time period along that particular dirt road.; to them just another nigger swaying in the wind after being tied to a rope.
When I first saw it I had hoped that it was quick and painless but when someone had said “Good lord cut him down please!”
My father looked at his neck and noticed that the skin had been pulled back by the throat to a disgusting sore. It showed that they were pulling him up and down on the rope while he was high on the tree. I could see the murderers laughing to themselves as poor Thomas was barely alive as they were pulling on the rope then letting it loose just before he choked to death. Up and down like a butter churn as if this was not a creature of God. In their polluted ideas of a person who could love like them, do what they can do and even be educated equally like them was not a creature worth being alive. If black was subhuman or animal then it could not accomplish that in any instance but as fate would show through history that African Americans would make a mark in America. This would be done through invention and accomplishment. The truth was that racist was not afraid of black’s subhuman ways but that black could actually do what they could do. That was the truth in their subconscious but even they didn’t know it. My father took it the hardest where he would not sleep or eat like he regularly did. Once in his room he was throwing things as if to wonder about his faith and even cupping his face in his hands sobbing to himself. My father cared about the welfare of black people so to see a grown white man cry about his black friend was a sight to behold in its self. He was truly bigotry challenged, which was in his soul that made me believer of some sorts till he died. His death would mark my return to being an atheist
I was there when my father died which in most cases was not a man who was in the wrong at the wrong time. You obviously knew that his death was a casualty in the struggle for racial equality so most likely this was planned. You also knew that there were many different suspects due to the fact my father had crossed many racist’s paths. As I was running to my father’s body after being told by an African American friend that something had happened to my Dad upon Gifford’s creek near the town that my father’s law office was located. A split second reaction occurred like it was something that was eventually going to happen to my father but I was silently waiting for it. It was like dark coal in my soul that I knew this day had finally come as my friend Todd rushed out of breathe from running yelled “Your pappa…..Gifford creek….something happened sir”. I immediately threw down my axe and began running into what I had feared for years to come. We ran through the forest running through leaves and shrubs until we reached town as we dreaded the worst. I began to just hope it was just a beating or an argument which was strange as a more optimistic viewpoint in this insane place know as America the so called free. That’s when I saw the body of my father all laid out on the mud as I turned around the building. I watched as my father just laid there as if he was getting some peaceful sleep even with his eyes closed. I first thought that he finally met Thomas in heaven as they embraced while watching other racist in hell being tortured in full pity. He was not killed as hideously as Thomas was killed, where his body was almost beaten senseless for no reason. Yes both deaths had caused a crowd but my father’s death nearly brought the whole town whether they liked him or not. They looked all sadden by this outcome even if they didn’t entirely agree with the man’s tactics or beliefs. But even normal non-extreme Whites agreed like him or not, this was a man that was a child of God much as some believed that all men were a child of God. You know in a sensethat everyone knew that we are all created equal but a death of a highly religious man just reminds us all that we already knew, no need to tell us. The body of my father was stretched out with just a slight amount of blood in the chest area where he was shot. His head was turned to the side as if the mud was his pillow and his arms were raised above his head in a lethargic type motion. His hands were covered with blood which meant that he had clutched his chest when he got shot as a last ditch effort to try to survive. But as strong as my father was in faith he could not survive the bullet to his chest. He must have fallen down all alone in the mud near the pigs without anyone for he was discovered hours later. The only one there must have been God.
All I could do was fight back the tears for no one here could really understand, even the non whites that this was my father that I had loved more than life itself. I wanted to scream to the world, not just the United States that my father is dead and he has been taken away from me. I sat there at the barn looking at the last glimpses I would see of my father, wondering why me.? Why the hell would God have taken Thomas and my father so brutally and in my anger, I decided that I wanted to hurt God by simply going back to not believing in him. Many kept the faith but even Ben Cott challenged me in thinking why do bad things happen? I could care less about passing the gospel because I just wanted my father and the fact that he was critical in these racial relations didn’t make sense. Maybe what I was saying was wrong to Ben Cott and not the other way around. My anger watching them cover up his body in clothe and black people crying “Mister Angle es dead” I didn’t really care about God right now cause I wanted revenge. How dare some racist kill someone as God-faring as my Dad who could convince a bird it was better to walk instead of fly south for the winter. I could not see God wanting me to love these creatures of Satan but maybe that was just it. Maybe we were wrong…..no the anger talking…..I have to go to sleep. I slept that night at my house not hearing the faint snoring of my father for the first time in my life. I sobbed like a baby.
The funeral
The funeral was three days later as almost all the town came to see the last glimpses of my father which there was talk that this could be a funeral for the congregation as well. My father was being buried near to his death at Gifford cemetery. I never liked cemeteries but maybe because I never had to come to one before this ordeal. My father was the one that put this together and now there was no one. Another reason to not to believe is why would God destroy the congregation like that. Wasn’t the point to continue the good word even over strife and hardships? Anyway the funeral brought many from the congregation and even ones who were not regulars. You could see black people from miles around come to the funeral where you knew it was a long walk cause of the sweat on their clothes. The sun was hot that day and everyone had brought makeshift fans from newspapers to even bibles. I couldn’t imagine everyone being here but they were here as the sky was blue. The Chinese came wearing their traditional funeral precession clothes which were very colorful and most unknown to the rest of us due the fact they were the most recent immigrants. They were long sleeved with many different patterns which shown strange but beautiful designs. The sun seemed hot as if hell had come to Richmond, which again contradicted my statements to Ben Cott. Why was the day not perfect and cool for the funeral which again contradicted my statements to Ben Cott. I was standing beside my brother who stayed inconspicuous the whole time not hiding his tears away but was quiet. My brother and I just sobbed away in the church, we as a family built with the many guests, as well, wondering what might happen. It was quite a site to see all these people in one place for not a joyous occasion for a change but a mournful one, which is when it most counted. The white occupants of the church had come but came in fear as if they were going to be the next target. But I guess what’s important is that they came to honor a man who had shown them something that was beautiful and they had not seen before. Truth was that even that disturbed look on their faces that they were all here in respectful mourning. I wanted to say that I was pleased at the turnout but if my father had not decided on pursuing what he believed in, he would probably be alive right now. I could not abandon my church family but these thoughts lingered in my mind. God could not do this to my father and allow those who found it justified to continue breathing on this earth with their journey to the lowest bowls of hell. He didn’t exist that was the only explanation and as I saw them carry my father’s corpse to buried under the filthy dirt to be consumed by worms. I gave in to the fact that maybe all these people were being fooled. When we reached the loose soil after carrying my father’s coffin over the wooden chipped sign that had painted “GIFFORDS CEMENTARY”; We decided that this was a good time for everyone to take a break from walking and carrying. One black and one white grave keeper looked at us from a distance with a look that said “I don’t care about when we bury him but how and where” They looked too old to be doing this with sluggish like movements on their sweat drenched shirts. One of them spoke saying
“Looka here mister….Wen we gon to do this? I aint got damn all day”
This hurried most of the mourners into assembling into a square around the grave site as both grave diggers dug like their life depended on it. The sight of all these people were emotionally enhanced by the beautiful humming of the African Americans as they sung their songs lovely like. It started with the blacks rocking by and forth then by everyone else to the rhyme of the beat. The sounds complied by the insects and birds gave a unified sound that in my opinion should have been recorded. It was that good, as the men dug the place where my father would rest in eternity. Amazing grace was sung by a young girl, who was a regular at the church as the people except the children closed their eyes in prayer. The child like voice gave a positive feeling to everyone as she sang with much innocence. I felt to myself that it was her innocence that opened up the hearts of the people for I still had my grudge with this being known as God. It was an instinct response that normal people find a child’s voice so captivating and innocent, so they simply would take care of them to continue the race. I truly knew the cause of my Dad death was more of martyrdom, like the bible, to try and unite people in the name of God. But I could not get mad at all these people even if I tried, simply because it was not in my nature. I would be stepping on all the things my father believed in even if the temptation of calling these people assistants to murder. No chance and I hated myself for thinking it, even though the thought was inevitable probably like my father’s death. I loved these people and had an attachment to them as if they were an extension of family. I may not believe in God anymore but I deeply understood what my father was doing was not only for the best but for the future of this great nation. I signed and waited for the sermon by an Indian known as Redfoot.
Mr Redfoot’s sermon
Mr Redfoot as we all called him was a Cheyenne Indian who had come far from the west to live into our close knit community near Richmond, Virginia. He was quite a tall man who was usually soft spoken but commanded such a presence of integrity from being such a proud race of mighty warriors. This would later be the legacy of Native Americans to be a mighty culture without a true set of people left to live it. The manifest destiny of white people would leave them to the near point of extinction as they are being moved from area to area. They were like something I saw at a creek in the middle of a forest on a rainy day, which was an ant trying to move through a creek that had rising water. It tried to move to all the dry spots but the truth was that the rain would overcome and the ant would not be able to move so it would drown. This was the plight of the Native Americans whose culture had so much interest among everyone but no one seemed to care about the people who created it. Sure I would always remember the ant but now it was probably dead. I sat patiently on the wooden bench as Mr. Redfoot slowly walked up to the makeshift podium at the age of 50 years old with all his wisdom that everyone was anxiously anticipating. He did not wear his traditional uniform but a jacket with slacks and pants which took away from the mood but I also thought it was insulting to just assume every Indian wore feathers. He looked up to the sky directly into the hot sun, then at my father’s casket, and then at the crowd of anxious people. He rubbed his wrinkled face off with a clothe that showed even an Indian was susceptible to the blistering heat. He coughed and then spoke
“We are here to honor a man who showed us the way. What I mean by that ….the way of peace. … the way of love….the way of choice…These things exist in my culture as well and I love how his man integrated them in a way that we all understand…..The interrelationship between animals of our great land is very similar to our laws which lead to God. I love that….Our laws have been created by God but these similar laws not to lie or kill had existed in my culture as well. He took it a step further saying that in no instance should we kill another man which humbled me. My culture gives a set of rules to maybe kill invaders or other tribes but this man had touched my heart with his kindness. He let me in his home and showed me there is difference in ways but no difference in the souls of the human race. The interrelationship I was talking about with animals was that nature keeps a balance with everything. The fish keeps the bugs in check while the bear keeps the fish in check or the eagle keeps the chipmunk in check while the chipmunk spreads the seeds of trees. This balance I am talking about exists in nature which I worship. But this man explained to me God creates laws which keep the people in check so society can exist. He showed me that this similarity is what pushes the world to just work. We in a sense have always worshiped the same God but never knew about it. The Africans lived by this principle in their country and the Chinese believe that we are trying to find a sense of finding something known as nirvana. This Chinese belief also goes with God in a sense cause aren’t they trying to find an answer to a question started by one man…a prince I believe. This answer is being at the highest state of being, which could be described as a heaven since our question would be answered if we pray. What is the difference between praying and mediation? I see none nor did this man. What is a world without suffering as nirvana states……heaven……… what else is a world without suffering?
I looked very sadden by this man’s speech because it was beautiful yet haunting to see his logic of things but my father would be proud of these things he was saying. Maybe there is hope for the congregation after all.
Slowly my resolve on my position of religion and being an atheist had never been stronger watching piles of dirt be thrown on my father’s coffin and that my father’s killers were still roaming around along with Thomas’s. The state of hate grew in my heart despite the Indian’s sermon, where I could kill these men since the local authorities never messed around with Klan business. That was probably why maybe dozens or even hundreds of so called nigger’s murders never were solved across the deep south. Why would they care about a nigger lover like my father anyway. As each pile of dirt covered what was left of my father I felt that justice should prevail. As time went by weeks after the funeral and the idea of no resolve made me believe that maybe just maybe I should take justice in my own hands. At least I didn’t believe in God and have these thoughts which would be a contradiction by itself. God was supposedly forgiveness and the pain in my heart could not forgive.
I was found wandering the streets as if I was someone who did not belong. I took to drinking, where I felt that my whole life was one flamboyant lie. It was like the whole world was functioning in its own time space and I was an invisible blur in the middle of nowhere. I was found in the dirtiest alleys just lying down and thinking about life. But what was life? I was without parents and was not much of a believer in the realm of thinking that justice will prevail. My father’s or Thomas’s killers were but a forgotten memory and I was living with the curse of not forgetting. I was never going to believe that this “God” that my father so desperately sought out could be so forgetful of my father. He damned believed to the point of giving his life for the so-called love of God. What was he given in return? Slain friends who also believed and were considered family. I was often found screaming “Why lord!” to the top of my lungs as I began my journey to be a bum. The whiskey felt good even though it was bad for you. Shooting the killers with my father’s Winchester would feel good even though God said it was bad for you. The alcohol seemed to ease my mind which made me feel like doing things that didn’t seem in my nature. Who was I anyway I wonder? This was a question that I had asked myself very often. Was it in my nature not to beat up the people who found my ordeal amusing? Or was the teaching of father imprinted in my head. I would see people feel emancipated from civil rights or any other disturbance my father provoked with his law skills. I would see those racist bastards grin from amusement when looking at me, walking in town. I was not sober but even in that state I remember it vividly. I thought about who I was and wondered if it was the alcohol talking to my mind. Was it saying for me to follow my emotions and do what I want? I could believe that despite the fact that my father used to tell me things about those thoughts. It is the devil’s path to do things we want without considering what it would do to someone else. I finally came to a conclusion that maybe it was a battle between the alcohol and my father’s teachings. What scared me for a moment was maybe it was a battle between Jesus and Satan. That contradicted the fact that I was not a believer but like I said, my father could convince a rock to move.
One fine day after consuming a bottle of Tennessee whiskey and laying there near a shit smelling latrine. I noticed that I saw a silhouette of a man walking towards me. It was raining and I was in the mud just laying there in an weaken alcoholic state where my movement was very lethargic. The rain washed my face where it was the only thing that was keeping me from being unconscious. The whiskey bottle fell out of my hand as I tried to respond to the man approaching me. My mind could only register a few things but I suddenly believed that the man was my father’s killer. The smell of alcohol on me, made me realize it was my brain playing tricks on me. I was then trying to multi-task the idea of me killing the man, realizing that he was not the killer and defend myself if he was a mugger. All this thinking just lead to me falling on my stomach with an uncomfortable grunt of pain. Everything was getting blurry as I was trying to react to the unknown. My sight was too drunk to make out a clear picture of what was happening. I could only roll around in the mud with my slacks and then suddenly remembered that this was how my father died. I was a drunken fool and I did what any drunken fool would do when he remembers a tragedy. I wept like a baby in front of this man. I began talking to myself saying “DAD I WANT TO BELIEVE BUT I CAN”T!” The man just looked at me as his silhouette just straightened up and stood still. I was 17 at the time but I looked pathetically like a 5 year old child. Here I was, covered in mud and probably horse shit as flies would buzz annoyingly around me. I dropped my bottle and I was just weeping uncontrollably as the rain poured more violently as the black clouds forced the sky darkened to nearly night.
I opened my eyes as I found myself wide awake and started to get up from my slumber. I winced in pain from the incredible headache I received from my movement. I rubbed my head looking around and found myself in the church. Not any church but the church that my father built with his bare hands. I looked at the place and realized that not many people came to it at all anymore. I never thought about it much. I just figured that my brother would take over the sermon and people would return. As I started to get up I noticed that my father’s Winchester was laying over on a pew. It looked as if it was already loaded as shell casings were scattered all over the floor. Even with all the dust in the church it seemed that a gun in the church was like a slap in the face of God. I looked around half expecting my father to be the man at the latrine. But I knew in my heart that he was dead. I just laid there in sitting position as I tried to figure out how I got there.
I was going to just leave with the gun when Ben Cott just suddenly appeared from behind the altar.
“Sorry old chap I had to drag you out of there or you were going to die of ammonia…..by the way this church was closest to the latrine to get you out of the cold” I looked confused but almost pleasant at the same time to see him. I walked towards him in my stained and tattered clothes where I yelled in a pathetic, giving up tone “You were right all along that there is no God cause this should not happen to me! I just believed cause I wanted to impress my father….. We are all imprints like a press…impressions of someone who wants to justify the “WHY” while ignoring the how, what, where, and whom. It was just like you said where my father was a printing press for all these people. We as people must justify our existence by simply making stuff up and passing it down to generation after generation”
I looked defeated as if I had just betrayed my own father and his magnificent God. I looked like a bum talking bad about things that I had needed. I looked up at Ben Cott as he stood there with his hands behind his back while looking sternly at me with a frown.
“I am glad that you believe that but what if I told you that I was the one who had taken your father’s life?”
My head swung up in disbelief as I could not comprehend what I was hearing
“What if I had told you that I had taken Thomas’s life too”
Ben Cott spoke in a flat unforgiving tone that seemed to echo through the rafters in the church. I looked confused as he continued to speak “Would you not kill me for my crimes? We as humans kill every day….to eat, fight wars, to survive……Maybe we do it under our Gods as they are considered a difference”
Ben Cott looked at the cross hanging over the rafters “I believe that Jesus serves a purpose…..it was disbelief that had killed your father…..A man needs purpose for existing…..Love is the only way man can live in harmony, where he sees each other as his equal and friend. Love is for our future as an emotion that makes life exist in unison with each other. Whether you believe in science or God you must respect love. It is what binds us so we don’t kill each other to point of extinction. Love does not require God but is truly only form of evolved instinct...we live to pass our knowledge down to one another from the aftermath of our mistakes. Logic is the true divider among Men that choose to follow their instincts. It is the animalistic impulses that do what we were meant to do as any living creature on this planet which is to survive. But the pollution of logic in all our brilliance and intelligence is the idea of our supremacy of all the creatures of the earth. We truly should obtain a type of balance with the earth, yet in our self infallible minds we have taken the earth for granted to the point that a fellow creature of similar intelligence yet separate differences has been enslaved. It was bad enough that we, as humans, take the plentiful earth for granted, but something that is our own species as well. The disbelief alters a balance that we can do what we want, and not follow the laws of man. Yes man, who forged the earth but forget what he had learned from simple history, and MORALLY logic teachings. Your father’s killers were not true believers so that’s what lead to this outcome. I AM YOUR DISBELIEF!"
I looked astounded at this but equally angry where I could pick the gun and shoot my father’s killer.
I was just considering it when my brother came from the other side of the altar and walked up towards me saying “Please put the gun down my brother and listen to your disbelief…..He may be wise but their must always be a purpose or logic to everything……I am different for I love you…..That is my nature as a fellow human being. You weep because your father was taken away from you but rather than avoiding God this is the time to embrace him. I may have killed your father as well. I am the reason that he is a martyr cause he died for his beliefs as many christens have been slaughtered over the centuries. A purpose for a human being does not need validation but for what he loves. God loves you and you know our father is in good hands. You spent years reading the bible texts and loving the poetry it invokes. These words are poems that express love, law, and faith. Faith keeps us from falling off that horse to hell or just being a good human being. All the wars that we have been through we have learned that peace is a greater weapon. God exists in you and you know that you need him right now. You need the thought of his existence to relieve the pain of you father dying by knowing that he is in a better place and that he did not die for nothing. Evils like racism will slowly die by what your father did and he did it with faith from God. God is often the beginning and the end But I believe science serves a purpose because it moves us up in technology in all forms, where it enlightens us to go beyond normal thought and even darwin believed something extraordinary was causing changes in man. Science is the inevitable truth that gives us the future we not only want but need to see beyond the constraints of time. However have faith in God. I AM YOUR BELIEF!
I wondered if I was still drunk or I was crazy or I was in limbo.
I looked at both of them and asked “why are you here?”
Both of them smiled
Ben Cott saying “We may not agree on all things”
Edward “But we do agree that love is for the future”
Ben Cott “As a mother eagle nestles her eggs to allow them to grow”
Edward “As man developed faith after the days of chaos and madness”
Ben Cott “ We don’t really existence only in your head” Edward “I believe that you figured it out”
With that there was a light and they were gone. So I figured it out according to Edward, which to me meant that I had balance with my beliefs and disbeliefs. I felt relieved in a sense that this madness is behind me and the darkness in my heart. I was sitting in the pew contemplating what I would do next in life after this until I heard a sound. It was a piercing sound that started quiet but got a lot louder as time passed. It was as if something was coming closer toward the church and it was coming for me. The church had now just gotten darker and more menacing as the clouds overhead shut out any form of light. I felt a fear of dread as I heard a darker deeper voice that I haven’t ever heard.
The voice said “You wish to kill racist people don’t you. They put you into this state haven’t they? You were a young man about to go off to college and make something out of your life. They took it all away….the church, your father, and even your imagination. I left that gun for you cause you know that Mr. Augustus had planned for your father’s death.”
I paused asking “How do you know that?”
There was a laugh that bellowed even louder than Ben Cott. “It's not a matter of proving, it is a matter of knowing! You saw that fat greasy monster grin at you in your time of sorrow. So don’t think about it but just act. It is the time to act and kill those MONSTERS! It will relieve your pain….so act.”
I looked at the gun and then at the cross and then back at the gun. I closed my eyes and fell to my knees and prayed. The prayer in that instance took away the hate, the sorrow, the pain and suffering. The idea of thinking of something that was the opposite of the idea of evil cleansed my mind. I prayed for my father, Thomas, the victims of death, and even the killers. The piercing noise stopped.
I opened my eyes and the light shown in the church as if it was a normal day. I carried myself up to a standing position. I kicked the gun with all my might off the seat where it went through the window. I walked out of the church knowing full well that last voice was my temptation.
1 year later
I was diagnosed with a brain disorder where I see things and hear things by a well known British doctor up in New York city. We became fast friends for I liked how this country was open to everything. He would talk of the king and the Queen and the many different British authors. I evidentially moved there after I could not take the racism and having these strange headaches. I managed to get enrolled into a small college up there where I was studying to be a doctor. I guess he inspired me in a way being a sort of father figure. It turned out was having this problem since I was born. It was evident since my brother didn’t exist and I was an only child. Everything else in the story happened pretty much the way I told it(besides my brother and Ben Cott )
I told the story to the doctor, who was treating me and he said “I am a man of science but I am also a man of God and the story you told me is one of either a great coincidence or a miracle from God”
I looked at the good doctor saying “Why do you say that, when you just diagnosed me with this brain disease?”
He smiled as he looked as his many degrees in the office and rubbed back his white haired aging head. “Well we as people are free to believe whatever we what to believe. The question your really asking me is if God exists? Well I am too insignificant in this argument but as you keep saying through your a hallucination….The true purpose of religion is to better ourselves whether it is meditation, discipline, love or honor. It is the defining moment that hope has never been stronger. It gives us purpose as well. Many cultures can attain to that. These are things that we all need in ourselves a little or a lot.”
The doctor got up from his chair to pour a cup of tea. I remember him telling me that it was tradition to drink tea at a given time. How long has that custom gone on? Is it like religion which is something that just happened or was it something that only the British would come up with. I pondered that for a moment.
The doctor smiled saying “I suppose you could be a good man and not believe….But I wonder….why impede something that does so much good for so many people? Or why impede the logic of science if you believe? These questions seem to find a balance in way things work. I thought about that thinking for a while and decided that you really should believe in what you want and that was all to it….things should just co-exist. The good doctor interrupted my thoughts by offering me some tea. He sat down slowly finally asking me something that I thought about all my life from then on.
“You have told this story if it is coincidence but ask yourself ….If you had not heard from Edward or Ben Cott…would you have shot Mr. Augustus or a random racist with your father’s Winchester rifle that you brought from the house? If you did not hear the sermon your father preached ….would you have listened to your temptation?” He stirred his tea and waited on an answer. I looked baffled for I would like to believe but part of me wouldn’t.
The doctor spoke “Maybe your disbelief and belief psychologically knew that you were going to ruin your life but maybe so did God. This is the maze of things that occur when believing and not believing. As science proves itself to be right, it becomes dominant until there is a unknown obstacle or random occurring odd miracle of some sorts. The truth is that we may never know until we are deceased. I found that your hallucinations made a certain point…..we need both science and faith. In fact I believe an omnipotent force controls beyond any doubt. Rather than see so called evolution as a force of science, why not accept it as a God of nature. Your imaginary brother quoted that everything works together with equations but how that existence happens, no one really knows. Why we die and flies know of death to reproduce in the beginning is an enigma that no science can explain…… yet. Until then I will believe in my faith because some God controls all this science together. Life itself is a cohesion of all sciences working together to sustain a working person……chemistry, biology, physics, electricity (how do they know to work together?)…etc”. For this reason alone, as I said before, science and faith can exist together. I think racist viewpoints limit that Africans or other races are a part of that natural construct. It’s not that they don’t believe that Africans are equal but it’s the fact that they refuse to believe due to the natural differences in skin color. Their skin color is an evolved trait that allows them to absorb hot ultra-violet rays of the sun much like white skin color works well in the cold areas. Other than that a person of color can achieve anything a white man can do, when not impeded by racism. (History has shown that by black people willing to gamble their lives in pursuing a goal)Yet white hesitates when seeing black as a person due to their backgrounds as second class citizens during slavery. If nature has shown us anything, if a species can reproduce together, it is equal in most cases due to survival of the species. Racist must not understand this balance or wish to stay enclosed in traditional walls. However your father’s killers still roam this earth unpunished and free to murder with malice. Why would God allow this and other acts of hate throughout the world. Murder is something that doesn’t just affect you but Billions over the centuries. Families still yet pray to God much like Thomas’s . So the truth is that I don’t know and no one will till judgment day. The good doctor leaned back into his chair and sipped his tea. I nodded my head to agreement and was awe struck by the wisdom of my good English doctor friend.
I never returned to the church due to the bad memories of friends and loved ones, who didn’t see the end of my story. I heard that it was in disarray until a fire from lightning in 1915s that took it out of the Lord’s hands. The congregation still believed as they would sometimes go to the spot of its demise, thinking of what my father had accomplished bringing together such an unlikely gathering. The town may not have liked it but they understood to leave things up to the lord. In its debris, I left my father’s legacy with it. It was something that could not be forgotten, which gave it a type of immortality even though my father was long gone.
I thought about that conversation with the doctor until my death in 1950. I never lived to see my father’s dream of ending segregation come a reality but with all these marches occurring; that was going to be inevitable. I figured that good would always occur but no one could ever predict the time. We are not Gods so this is true. I was surrounding by my children and grandchildren at my deathbed. I knew that the life I lived was worth it, so I was ready for whatever the afterlife held or didn’t hold.
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