"Why do you have an iron here?"
"All the robes I have to wear? You'd keep an iron, too. Can't go out front in a wrinkled surplice."
"Shocking!"
"Some of the church ladies keep me freshly pressed. The vestments go to the dry cleaner's, but they don't always transfer well."
"Gotcha. You know I don't care, right?" He eyed himself in the mirror. "Don't suppose you've got a spare tie?"
"Nope. Sorry. That's as good as it gets."
"Thank you."
"We'd better go sit down, or someone less deserving will sit by our women."
Laughing, the brothers headed to the sanctuary. Walking through the narthex, several people stopped Obi.
"Father Randolph, what are you doing in civilian clothing?" one older man asked with a chuckle.
"I'm taking the day off, Ralph. My folks are visiting, so I asked my dad to step in for the service. You know my brother, Clive, don't you?"
"I surely do. My wife has told me all about you."
Turning his head, as if to hear better, Clive squinted at the older man. "Wife?"
"This is Ralph Bannister," Obi explained.
"Oh, Lorna's husband. Pleased to meet you, sir." He held out his hand, giving the older man a firm handshake. "She speaks of you often, sir."
"No need to sir me, young man. I'm a working stiff, just like you."
"Beg to differ, Mr. Bannister. A man who served his country as a Marine Major, deserves a sir."
"In that case, I'll accept it. Came up through the ranks the hard way."
Chatting, the three men walked into the sanctuary together.
"Lorna's reading the scripture today," Ralph explained.
"We'll save her a spot."
Obi looked around, wondering where Eagle was. He didn't even see him in with the band, who were setting up. Leaning over to his brother, he asked about the youngest Randolph.
"He's not coming," Clive said.
"Great. Because of last night?"
"Yes. You really upset him."
"I upset him?" Obi rolled his eyes. "That's choice. He can say whatever he wants to me, but I stick up for myself, and he has a fit. Will that boy ever grow up?"
"Maybe if we stopped calling him a boy, and coddling him?"
Shaking his head, Obi sighed. "Maybe? Who knows. I'm over it."
"Makes two of us. Oh, here's Mom."
The men stood, guiding Hester to her seat. The organist started the first hymn, and they all stood. Everyone in the congregation sang with great gusto—some with more exuberance than skill. Obi had encouraged them all, talented or not, to sing. It was his theory that nothing praised God as much as music. Fortunately, this flock had enthusiastically taken to the idea.
The service started. Reciting the familiar prayers and responses, Obi felt at peace. During the sermon, Wynter's hand crept over to his. Feeling like teenagers, they held hands between them, where no one would see.
"I'm delighted to be back here at St. Pete's," Prescott began. "It's good to look out and see a lot of old friends and familiar faces. Today's scripture, Matthew 19:26 tells us With God, all things are possible. I firmly believe this. Sometimes, it takes us a while to figure it out. I'll admit, I was one of the slowest. In my family, it's traditional for the first male of the generation, to become a priest. I took religious orders, just like my father, grandfather and great-grandfather. My son, your pastor, is the eldest of his generation, therefore he also sought religious life."
Smiling, he walked around to the front of the podium. "It takes a lot of courage to give your life to the church. It's a vocation which requires much contemplation and prayer, and is not to be entered into lightly. That said, it's a rewarding life, full of ups and downs. We preside over baptisms, but we also must officiate at funerals. We marry young couples, some of whom we've baptized, and watched grow up. We counsel couples when they argue. We console them when one partner dies. We are everything to our congregation, which is why they call us Father."
A few sniffles reached Obi's ears. Closing his eyes, he listened to his father's words.
"Under these vestments, we're only human. From time to time, despite our training, our prayers and calling, we can still lose ourselves in doubt. It's a terrible thing to question your faith, especially when you have so many people counting on you for guidance. There is nothing worse than kneeling to pray, and wondering if He, in whom you have always believed, is listening. The wonder and fear that He won't answer—or He will, in a way we don't want. Then, having to explain to someone else, who is suffering, why their prayers weren't answered by a God, whose will you question. Belief, in the face of doubt, is the hardest thing any of us can do."
He walked down the steps, standing in the aisle in front of the altar. "What can we do in a time like that? Well, you can talk to someone else, who has strong faith. It might be your parish priest. It might be a friend, or family member. It might be a total stranger, whom you meet by random chance—though with God, there's no such thing as random. He puts people in our paths at just the right time. And He puts us in the paths of others. Whether you're a priest or not, your faith can be used to help someone else. In the times of greatest uncertainty, when you feel tested to your limit, that's when you can reach out to someone else who is suffering. Someone who might not ever have had a belief system. Someone who is as miserable as you, or more. For in helping one another, we can build back our own faith."
He spoke a few more minutes, but Obi wasn't giving him his full attention. Instead, he felt the impact of the words hit home. He suspected his father had written this sermon for him, at least it felt that way. The sermon over, it was time to sing another song before concluding the service. Ushers lined up with the offering baskets, ready to send them around as the congregation sang.
©Dellani Oakes 2023
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