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Ninety Days Inside The Empire: A Novel by William Appleman Williams

The Reverend

Page 11

Then, as Griff entered the world of patients, it became apparent that his touch with music extended to dealing with people. He had a way of listening that encouraged them to talk about dreams and fears; and his hands and fingers learned how to discover things as important in their own ways as X-rays and blood tests. Old as well as young folks began to come a little early, and he made the time to sit with them.

Hence it was not particularly surprising to some members of the medical faculty when he veered off into a serious study of religion. As he began to practice sermons and counseling, he became ever more sensitive to Basie's old warning about noise instead of music. The one-time old back country preacher who became his advisor, and who could pump the organ better than fair, understood the point. "People want you to talk about Love and Grace of God, and what good works is down their road for them to do. They got no time for that theology you memorized."

On beyond a year, the preacher-professor sent him back to medicine. "You be one of those who's best off doin' both, young Mr. Jones. It goes back and forth. You'll be a better man of The Lord by bein' a doctor, and a better doctor for understanding and accepting The Love and the Grace of God."

And so he had done that and now found himself yanked abruptly out of his memory and into the present.

"Mornin' and Amen, Reverend. You thinkin' on that sermon?"

Three generations of Negro women were coming by on their way to the market in Five Corners, the children playing make-believe hopscotch on the gravel path.

"Thank you, Ladies. I guess I better start, not doin' so good so far."

"You just funnin' us," laughed the one old enough to be his grandmother.

Her daughter stopped, more serious. "Reverend, lots of us really grateful to you for startin' the Sunday School. It helps us as much as the children. We talk with them better at home."

Griff stood up and walked off the knoll, stooped down and put an arm around each child. Said aloud, some to himself: "This is Lulu and this is Rosie. You need a penny to play that game right." Then to the women: "Sometimes I think the children ought to give the sermon and me in Sunday School."

"You just tired," said the other older woman, "Workin' too hard." She patted his arm. "Just you walk on down there to the ocean and refresh yourself. The good words'll come to you."

-- Oh, Lord, if it was only that easy. And what about the good works.... they never just come to nobody.

They laughed and went on their ways. The Reverend cut back toward home, his mind now fretting about what to say and do about Maggie and all the problems behind that problem. Once he had figured a way on that the sermon would maybe come to him. Lette was still asleep, so he let the black Imperial roll down the driveway before starting it, and then eased off toward the Blakes.

He began to see what he was going to do, and how that connected with with the sermon. He was feelin' kind of happy sassy when he knocked on the screen door. Mr. Hank and Maggie looked better than he'd feared. They were close and smiled and seemed to have slept a few hours.

Together: "Thanks for comin', Reverend."

"Where's that nip? You tell me about it, Maggie, and then we'll go for a ride and I'll tell you a couple of stories."

It took two nips before Maggie had spilled it all, cried a little, and finished up saying the same thing she'd told Mr. Hank.

"We can't do this us selves. We need help."

"You's right, Maggie, and we goin' to get some help. Now let's play like we was white folks and go look at the sun on the water."

They settled in the front seat and pulled out. The Reverend worked his way through the traffic back to Five Corners, and as they waited for the light he began to talk.