Post by Radrook Admin on Aug 14, 2021 20:04:20 GMT -5
The Church Meeting
The short, stout, white-bearded priest, father Nicanor Garcia, had reached the limits of his patience. It had been four years since he had been preaching Bible morals to the villagers on the fringes of the Amazon Jungle and his fervent sermons just didn't seem to sink in. Adultery and fornication, as well as many other sins which were clearly condemned by the Bible, were notoriously rampant at his parish and he didn't know why. But what really irked father Garcia most, were the smug contented Mestizo faces parishioners brought to the church services. It was as if they believed that God was totally unaware of their effrontery. As if they felt that there was actually somewhere to hide from his all-seeing eyes. But inclement weather that evening would show them.
Fortunately for him no villager had heard the news on the radio. They had been far too busy hunting and fishing in preparation for a grand festival scheduled for the next day. Sure, a few dark clouds had been sighted. But that was nothing unusual in the jungle. So the unexpected thunderstorm during his sermon would hopefully have great spiritual salutory impact - especially with the sermon that the had prepared. No he wasn't being wickedly cruel. In fact, he had been patient and cared about his fledgling congregation since the church had assigned him to this parish. But there comes a time when people need to be traumatized in order to pay attention to the Lord, and he was sure that this experience would set them firmly on the path to salvation. After all, had not God repeatedly awed Israel into a reverence that they had previously been reluctant to show? So with the help of inclement weather, hopefully, he could finally reach their hearts and motivate them to a repentance that inevitably leads to salvation.
So there they all were that gusty afternoon, dressed in their finest as usual. But as Jesus had said to the Pharisees, the outer cup might appear righteous, though the inside needed cleansing. "I suppose many of you are planning on coming to me for confession after the service right?" he said, glaring over his thick, tinted, bifocal glasses. His stentorian tone was met with silence. They had heard him preach before but it had always been with gentleness born of a Christ like patience. Their surprised reaction made him hesitate but he forced himself on. "Apparently, many of you believe that this is all some kind of a game!" at that moment it thundered and a gust of wind shook the building, followed by the loud patter of raindrops on the church's corrugated tin roof. The congregation stirred worriedly momentarily, but settled down after a spattering of worried murmurs. He smiled at the fortuitous coincidence. After all, he needed all the help he could get in order to get through to these morally-decadent thick-headed people. "Adam and Eve believed the same thing, and lost their lives! You fine folk all know that by now, don't you?" "Amen and Hallelujah!" the village's notorious prime adulterer, Jonatan Riviera, suddenly intoned in a high-pitched, quavering voice while eyeing the exposed lower leg of his best friend's wife with whom he had been secretly, amorously involved for the past five years. "Praise be the Lord almighty!" she suddenly exclaimed in response, and there followed a slight giggle from the others in attendance who were aware of their illicit relationship, but had never informed her pudgy, sleepy-faced husband about it.
"Do not be deceived! For whatever a man is sowing that also shall he reap!" Father Garcia shouted while pointing in the general direction of the two. "Amen! The truth shall set you free!" the decrepid village thief shouted with an emaciated, sanctimonious face and a black leather Bible firmly clasped in his bony, right hand. Then he danced and shuffled around a bit, as if inspired by holy spirit, as he usually did at all church services before finally taking a seat and dozing off for the remainder. "It is not by bread alone!"" the priest started to utter, but before he could finish, he was interrupted by the four-hundred pound morbidly obese, porcine-faced, village glutton, whom God had gifted with an unusually resonant deep voice that never needed amplification. "....but by every utterance proceeding out of the Lord's mouth!" the glutton blared and his triple chin undulated in response. He had made a Herculean effort to come to his feet assisted by his cadaverous-looking mother and anemic, emaciated brother and was sweating profusely from the effort. Unable to stay on his feet, he dropped to his seat and destroyed it in the process as both its bamboo legs snapped like twigs.
Father Garcia was pleased to hear two immediate thunder claps as this happened, and the lights in the church flickered ominously adding to his conviction that it had indeed been the Lord showing his deep displeasure. "For he who steals let him steal no more!" Father Garcia continued with one ear perked hopefully to the increasing howl of the wind outside and the growing cacophony of the downpour on the church's tin roof which nearly drowned out his voice. "Amen!" shouted the village thief, Benicio Garalofago, whom Father Garcia had found stealing money from the church contribution box on numerous occasions while everyone else stood with eyes shut and in silent prayer. He noticed that the thief, don Garalofago, was now sporting a new pair of black, patent-leather shoes and wondered where he had gotten the extra money since his cane-cutting salary was obviously too meager to allow it . That's when he noticed that a golden crucifix on one of the church walls was missing. Controlling his growing suspicion and frustration, and his growing desire to wring his neck as he did the chickens he slaughtered each weekend, he managed to continue: "And he told the woman whom the crowd was about to stone, "Go and sin no more!"" he shouted, a thick purple vein bulging from his pale neck and spittle flying from his thin lips with the effort to be heard above the pelting rain.
At that moment, the the village prostitute, Maria Del Carmen, who had been promising to mend her ways for the last ten years, but never had, arrived soaking wet. He had always suspected that the only reason Maria had ever attended services was for advertising purposes. Always smilingly displaying her burgeoning, finely delineated breasts, tight skirts always hugging her generous hips, and scarlet lipstick always on her thick luscious lips. Of course the wetness of the rain provided an assist by causing her clothing to stick to her form. Reluctantly of course, ogling eyes of the faithful, including his own, were drinking it all in. Her appearance usually disrupted his sermons by forcing him to stutter, but tonight he would prevail - by God he would prevail! After feigning a deeply-reverent embarrassment, and giving the Father a furtive almond-eyed glance, Maria quickly and delicately genuflected and took a seat at the back, as usual, from where she could survey any prospective client. After she had sensuously settled into her seat, the Father took a deep breath and silently asked the Lord for spiritual fortitude. Then he continued: "It is because of your sins that disaster will finally befall you! Repent before it becomes too late! Before the day of his wrath arrives." he shouted from the pulpit just before the village constable and his assistant, Felipe Belgrano, forced open the church doors, tackled, handcuffed and led him away for embezzlement of church funds used for gambling purposes. Incidentally, it thundered several times as they led him away.