That would be appreciated, the director said. If you can help us be fair and just, we’d like to hear from you.
Oh, we don’t expect you to be fair, Alene said. That’s not going to happen. That would be a shock to everybody here.
Wait now, the chairman said. That’s too much.
No. It’s not, she said. He was trying to remind us of the truth. The real truth. To help us to think bigger than we do. We need to listen to him. But we’re not. Not enough of us.
That wasn’t the truth, one of the men said. That was just insanity. Craziness.
It’s in the Bible, Willa said. Do you think the Gospel of Luke is craziness?
That was out of context. He takes it literally.
Don’t you? Aren’t we supposed to? At least that passage?
Not here. Not now. Not like that.
Yes. Right here, right now.
My God, are you that ignorant, woman? There’s a war going on.
There shouldn’t be, she said.
Wait, the director said. That’s not the issue. Let’s just calm down. This isn’t helping. Let us pray again. I think we should. He looked at them. Will you all pray with me? He bowed his head and folded his hands on top of the table.
So they prayed again, but it didn’t change anything. Afterward they would not allow the Johnson women to say whatever else they had come to say and the chairman led them each by the arm across the room to the door and went up with them to the street. It was dark now and the corner lights had come on.
I thought better of you than this, Tom, Willa said. I thought you were a better man.
You shouldn’t have come here.
We had every right to come here. We’re members of the church.
No. You didn’t have the right. We’re the duly elected board. But I’m not getting into that again. Is your car here? Will you be all right? Watch your step in the dark.
You need to watch your step too, Tom. And don’t ever touch me again, please.
Good night. He went back to the basement.
In the basement they went on talking.
Do all of you want Reverend Lyle to leave? the director said. You don’t seem to have given him much chance and opportunity to prove himself. Have you already made up your minds?
Is he kind of stupid? one man said. Is he slow? Is that the trouble with him?
Maybe he’s having a breakdown, one of the others said.
He’s like some kind of ignorant and dangerous boy. Wanting the world. Wanting what’s on the other side of the store window and making trouble for everybody around him.
What is wrong with him anyway? the board chairman said. You know him.
Nothing’s wrong with him, the director said.
Something is. Look at what’s happened here.
And Denver too. Or he wouldn’t have been sent out here. We wouldn’t have got him. He wouldn’t have been given this charge. We all know that.
You shouldn’t have sent him. This isn’t a good place for someone like him. With his ideas.
It wasn’t only my decision, the director said. Others help make these choices.
Then those others screwed up.
Here now, the director said. We don’t need that kind of talk.
But it was a bad mistake. Say it how you want to.
I think he’s a good man, one man said who hadn’t spoken yet. I can see that. That’s not in question. He’s someone with a vision of how it could be.
Not here though.
Maybe not here, maybe not now. But it could be. It’s like what the Johnson women were saying.
Never mind that, the first man said. Let’s get this over with. Let’s vote.
Afterward the director stayed behind. He called Lyle on the phone. Will you come over now? We’re finished talking. I’d like to speak with you now.
Where are you? Are you still in the church?
Yes, in the basement.
We could go upstairs and talk in my office.
No. I have all my materials down here. This’ll be fine.
Lyle left the house and walked out in the mild evening and went down the steps to the basement hall where the director was waiting at the long table. The director had gotten himself a glass of water in the kitchen and he was sitting with the half-empty glass and his notes and papers in front of him. He had put his suit coat on again. He stood up when Lyle came in and they shook hands. Lyle was wearing old jeans and a T-shirt. He sat down on the same side of the table as the director with three of the empty chairs between them.
You didn’t bother to dress up tonight, I see, the director said.
No. I assume the decision has been made already.
I thought you might have put on appropriate attire out of respect for the greater Church, if not for me.
Does it matter?
The formalities matter.
It still comes out the same.
The director took a sip of water from his glass.
So. Is this what you want? What’s happened here tonight?
It wasn’t. But it is now.
You’ve done what you could to make it come out like this. Haven’t you.
How much time do I have? I will need some time to move my family.
You don’t even ask if you can be reassigned.
No.
Don’t you want to be?
No. I’m done. I’m finished with all of this.
We could probably reassign you as associate pastor somewhere. If you agreed to cooperate.
No, I don’t think so.
It doesn’t have to be this abrupt, so all-of-a-sudden.
Yes it does, finally. It was headed this way for years. It’s just taken this long to get to this day.
The director stacked the papers on the table in front of him. You don’t understand, do you?
What don’t I understand?
How to make changes. How to transform things and move people in God’s direction gradually. It doesn’t have to be fire and brimstone. Bombast and arm waving.
I’m sure I never waved my arms.
But you take my point. Changes can be made by slow accretion.
Not in my experience. I don’t see it.
Well, you didn’t, and you haven’t. That’s true. Still, I want to give you time to reconsider. To sleep on it and reflect and pray over this tonight.
I’m not changing my mind.
It wouldn’t be official until the decision had gone through the formalities and the appropriate channels and the church hierarchies, then they would talk again. The director insisted on shaking hands once more and gathered up his papers, put them in a briefcase and went out the door. Lyle stayed behind and carried the water glass the director had used to the kitchen and washed and dried it and put it away in the cupboard and stacked the chairs against the wall and put away the table. He turned the lights off and went back up to ground level. A car was going by on the dark street. He walked home in the quiet night.
At the parsonage he called his wife and son into the kitchen and they sat at the table looking at him. Is it over? she said.
I’ll tell you.
Then he told them: the board had made its decision tonight, he was being discharged and they’d have to leave. But they had time to consider what to do, until the end of summer. They could stay in the house in the meantime while they decided.
I’m going now, she said. I’ll leave tomorrow. I won’t wait. It was bad enough coming to a place where they didn’t want you in the first place, but the shame of being dismissed … I can imagine the glances and the whispers now. How people will act in the stores. I won’t endure that.
It’s not shame, he said. That’s not what this is. It’s something different from that. I don’t feel shame.
Well, don’t tell me about it, she said. I don’t want to hear it.
Mom, John Wesley said, I’m going with you.
Oh, you poor boy, she said. What a hard time for you. She lifted her hand to his face but he pulled away.