The drum sergeant lets cymbals quake as his foot pounds the bass drum pedal to cover the churchs silenceyes, finally, silence from the flockraining down from both balconies. Reverend Jacks eyes switch about holes in the movie screen pictures as he wipes the ballpoint end of his nose.
We gotta know who our brother is if He expects us to be keeping him, dont we, Church? You gotta answer soon if You expect me to look out for him on our way to Your bosom. Im gon listen to what You tell me, whatever it might be, Lord, but You gotta tell me something soon. We had a talk, me and the Lord. Know how I tell yall bout getting down on humble knees and praying to the Most High for guidance, and mercy, and deliverance for the wicked? This time I got down to pray and asked Him for an answer, Church. Understandings what I was after. Do yall hear me?
Amen, Reverend, the first balcony shouts, honey mamma Eva louder than all the rest, purple shame gone from her now. We hear ya. Go head on.
But Church, in His benevolent wisdom, Im still waiting out an explanation from on High, Church. Its one of them mysteries; Lord puts um down here for us sometimes, in this maze of concrete and glass. Lays rhyming riddles in the cracks of our lives. Like when He sent His son into the shadow of darkness to withstand the temptation of Beelzebub, Churchyall remember that? Whyd He put His One Son through such tribulation? He dont never give us no questions we cant handle though, Church. Never an answer thatll break us.
Glory, ah-ley-lu-ya, the woman says down below before hobbling into her pew.
He left me to think on it, amidst all this wicked darkness in the city Gomorrah. I sought for understanding, and I waited patient, Church. Is my brother the hustlers and the pimps and whores and crooks and killers scampering about like dark ratsis my brother Teddy Mann? Jesus the Son Himself kept even the most vile sinner close to Him as He spread the word of His coming. But that was back before Satan took over the living earth and the minds of the lost. Lord didn't have to think on pandemic pestilence and Tech-Nines and poison powders in the mail and flaming terror wielded by the lost. Them Romans overran Judah long before Satan swallowed the minds of the wicked, you see. Not like nowwe gotta be cautious on the Mount today. Its a good day for fellowshipping, yes it is, long as we stay cautious, Church. Yall still with me?
Amen!
Reverend Jack snatches the microphone from its stand and slides his wiggling Stacey Adams from the podium to spin inside the microphone chords electric circle, and my camera follows him just below us, broadcasting Reverends jig to the four corners and up above, too. The crusty-faced boy jumps wood pew to not-so-plush balcony carpet, and sweet Evas face turns sun-kissed as she applauds, and the balcony folk praise him on high. I try to listen still. Im patient as the flock, as the reverend beseeches us to be. No matter I may be one of those gypsy cab Jews with loss and confusion beating against my stolen holy book. Patient, because if Jesus came now I know hed be a gold-medallion cabbie; taking folk where they asked to go because thats the job script, just waiting for his chance to save them from their requested destination. Church, dont you know that gypsy-cabbie Jesus would catch the lost way switching about those passengers eye holes long before the rides end?
Its time for a cleansing, Churcha rapturetime for us to start preparing the path. As He prepped the way for us into His Fathers Kingdom by shedding His own blood. We, brothers and sisters, must shed wickedness, so the city is purified for His coming. He's riding in on that pearl white horse of His, come again to destroy the most Wicked One and deliver His peace unto the chosen. Well. Yall know I got mercy in me, Church, yall know itwe gon go out there and give the wicked and the lost their fair chance with the two-step test. Those that pass, we gon keep them and wait for Him to ride on to the Mount and deliver us together. The rest of them, Church? Old preachers used to talk about forsaking immoral means on the way to righteousness. But when the ends we preparing for is His return, Church, I cant think of no means that qualify as immoral. Slick-tongued serpent lives a long, lavish life, if yall let him do it. But its time for us to go bout changing this city, getting it ready, Church. Time for lies and false righteousness and double-dealing and back-sliding and all such wickedness to be cast down from the Mount and out of the city, so we can start to make a way for salvation. Yall hear me?
I hear you, I say, as Reverends come to his main point in these tiny ears of mine. The answer rains with the heel stomping and the skin-pounding drum sergeants celebration. Honey mamma Eva sings alleluia and jumps on the red carpet like the child in Row A, and she claps those pretty hands together, more than going through motions now.
The Reverend steps further left of the podium in the big movie screens, spinning and sliding and whirling without ever touching the chord that connects him to sound. He chants into the mic as clean sweat pours free along his brow, and the black angels sing with him. Celebrate the Good News. Celebrate the Good News. Mount Calvary shakes with the power of His glory, and I know the path, Church.
Celebrate the Good News.
I walk toward the balcony ledge once, twice, until my waist bounces against drywall and the Good News steel does feel so very mighty. Reverend Jack tells the truth about this, so very mighty, this message gripped in the left hand. Put it between his gray-black eyes, and the Mount is silent once again. Miracles do abound. Flocks quiet enough even for the reading of the Word hidden against my chest. Save for this bouncing boy screaming out because he aint ready for the News like he thought he was gonna be when it was delivered all funked up in charcoal and war fatigue drummer skins and rhythm guitar strum, and those sweet black angel hymns. When it comes in silence, the Good News tears righteousness from the child until his eyes fill with yellow rot like mine. He is as lost as I was lost.
Underneath this obnoxious fear, the sound of pearl hooves sound near. Klump. Ku-lump. Since the drum sergeant mustve lost his sticks, let the Good Lords pony keep the rhythm for you. These boys is just scared is all, Churchdont pay them mind. Just aint used to Good News without screaming in exaltation, alleluia; so feel their trepidation, amen.
I want to look over my shoulder at Eva, feast upon her glory one last time. Finest thing to ever set foot on Mount Calvary since they strung Him to that tree and drove in the spikes. Since the Lord called imminent domain over our salvation for the price of His Own Sons blood. Cant look back there though, for Teddy Manns black steel has got meand its throbbing in its hot might, shining and reflecting the gray in Reverend Jacks movie screen eyes. I've never seen a yellow testifier with pupils this color; bet they never seen a Black Jew with eyes rotted yellow neither. Wicked City.
I let go the Good News truth blasts, one, two, three times. For Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, though my real religion tells me to only believe in the First. Church, you hear this boy screaming wild still?
All the black angels run down from the bandstand. One of them, the curly headed Alabama queer who bit into thick lips as Reverend damned the sodomites last month, he dashes to the podium in time to catch Reverend before his heads fallen from the circle, and this black angel cries as sacred life spills to turn the choir robe a darker red than Mount Calvarys carpet. Purple-crimson sea to swallow the main point in whole.
Celebrate the Good News, and hold on to it tight, Church, cause the wicked will make one last stand on this good day for fellowshipping, stand against the Mount until He comes to vanquish them. Yes, they must. Says so at the end of their holy book.