October 19
Am sitting in a Starbucks in Cheyenne drinking coffee. But whose coffee? Not theirs, the capitalist pigs! I brewed my own in Squatter and poured it into my Steinbeck mug from Salinas. Now my mug sits beside me leaving little brown rings on their table. In the words of Afro Man, “F--- the corporate world, biotch!”
I am so rebellious. And so deep.
On Sunday I went to church. I parked Squatter in the church lot the night before, then drank beer and listened to the radio before I fell asleep. In the morning a couple Sunday school teachers came out to speak with me.
I saw them coming and opened the door of the camper to come out and greet them. They declined my invitations to coffee and breakfast couscous but extended an invitation to the church service. This was a Southern Baptist church, they said, way out here in Casper, Wyoming.
The fatter one had seen my license plate. “Yeah, we’re pretty conservative out here, kind of like in Georgia,” he said. “This is Dick Cheney’s hometown, you know.”
I swear it wasn’t 120 seconds later that the wind kicked up and blew the camper door shut, revealing the Kerry-Edwards sticker on the back of Squatter. The fat one left shortly thereafter. The other man – Lyle – stayed until he had to go teach. He invited me to his class, but I respectfully declined and told him I’d see him at the eleven o’clock.
Aside from the sermon church was great. Everyone was friendly and laid back. Some wore tee shirts. In my oxford shirt and khakis I was one of the dressiest worshippers. The hymns were fun, and I found myself tapping my foot along to “Standing on the Promises of God.” I wondered why such a large hall of worship drew so few people.
I discovered the reason when the preacher – a young fellow called “Brother Rob” – took the pulpit. I say outright that I did not like Brother Rob. Whereas other speakers said to the congregation, “Let’s stand,” Brother Rob spoke in the imperative. I pass this quotation along because I found it representative of Brother Rob’s attitude. “You may sit down,” he informed us. Then, drawing on his twenty-something years of worldly knowledge, he instructed the congregation on the rights and wrongs of marriage.
First he told us that according to God marriage could exist only between a man and a woman. This was because marriage “evens out male and female tendencies.” Here I think Brother Rob blended the word of God with his own conclusions. A man’s testosterone was like the magma inside a volcano, he told us. He was not smiling. A woman exerted a civilizing influence on the man – he recalled some of the wild times he’d had in an all-male seminary dormitory as evidence – and “harnessed” the man’s desires.
I was trying not to grin because in a congregation of thirty Brother Rob could have spotted me. A laughing liberal in Casper, WY might be subject to exile. But what Brother Rob was about to say would make me nauseous.
“Marriage is a model of the relationship of Christ to the church,” he said. The man was like Christ, the woman like the church – Jesus loved the church, and the church bowed to his authority. Never mind that the church did not exist until Paul created it after Jesus’ final disappearance. What will happen, Brother Rob asked rhetorically to the women of the church, “if you constantly rebel against the authority of your husband?”
Brother Rob presented other arguments against same-sex marriages. What if a gay couple chose to adopt? They could potentially stand in line ahead of you, a heterosexual couple, he pointed out. Nevermind that the number of adoptable children far exceeds the number of willing and able couples. And Brother Rob added, “No society with rampant homosexuality has flourished.”
“What about Greece?” I thought. “And Rome?” Ancient Greece produced Socrates, Plato, Aristotle and tragedy that many modern dramatists say has never been equaled. Rome produced Pax Romana, peace like the world has never seen, and a system of governance that lasted well over 1000 years.
As if in answer to my thoughts, Brother Rob spoke. “Greece?” he said. “Gone. Rome? Gone.”
One day, I thought, you will be gone too.
After the service Lyle took me by the arm and led me up to meet his preacher. Jeb,” he said, “I want you to meet Brother Rob.” I wanted to grab the back of Brother Rob’s head and dunk it in a toilet. Flush! I imagined his carefully combed hair rearranged like twirled ice cream. I shook his hand and walked out of the church.
I am so rebellious. And so deep.
On Sunday I went to church. I parked Squatter in the church lot the night before, then drank beer and listened to the radio before I fell asleep. In the morning a couple Sunday school teachers came out to speak with me.
I saw them coming and opened the door of the camper to come out and greet them. They declined my invitations to coffee and breakfast couscous but extended an invitation to the church service. This was a Southern Baptist church, they said, way out here in Casper, Wyoming.
The fatter one had seen my license plate. “Yeah, we’re pretty conservative out here, kind of like in Georgia,” he said. “This is Dick Cheney’s hometown, you know.”
I swear it wasn’t 120 seconds later that the wind kicked up and blew the camper door shut, revealing the Kerry-Edwards sticker on the back of Squatter. The fat one left shortly thereafter. The other man – Lyle – stayed until he had to go teach. He invited me to his class, but I respectfully declined and told him I’d see him at the eleven o’clock.
Aside from the sermon church was great. Everyone was friendly and laid back. Some wore tee shirts. In my oxford shirt and khakis I was one of the dressiest worshippers. The hymns were fun, and I found myself tapping my foot along to “Standing on the Promises of God.” I wondered why such a large hall of worship drew so few people.
I discovered the reason when the preacher – a young fellow called “Brother Rob” – took the pulpit. I say outright that I did not like Brother Rob. Whereas other speakers said to the congregation, “Let’s stand,” Brother Rob spoke in the imperative. I pass this quotation along because I found it representative of Brother Rob’s attitude. “You may sit down,” he informed us. Then, drawing on his twenty-something years of worldly knowledge, he instructed the congregation on the rights and wrongs of marriage.
First he told us that according to God marriage could exist only between a man and a woman. This was because marriage “evens out male and female tendencies.” Here I think Brother Rob blended the word of God with his own conclusions. A man’s testosterone was like the magma inside a volcano, he told us. He was not smiling. A woman exerted a civilizing influence on the man – he recalled some of the wild times he’d had in an all-male seminary dormitory as evidence – and “harnessed” the man’s desires.
I was trying not to grin because in a congregation of thirty Brother Rob could have spotted me. A laughing liberal in Casper, WY might be subject to exile. But what Brother Rob was about to say would make me nauseous.
“Marriage is a model of the relationship of Christ to the church,” he said. The man was like Christ, the woman like the church – Jesus loved the church, and the church bowed to his authority. Never mind that the church did not exist until Paul created it after Jesus’ final disappearance. What will happen, Brother Rob asked rhetorically to the women of the church, “if you constantly rebel against the authority of your husband?”
Brother Rob presented other arguments against same-sex marriages. What if a gay couple chose to adopt? They could potentially stand in line ahead of you, a heterosexual couple, he pointed out. Nevermind that the number of adoptable children far exceeds the number of willing and able couples. And Brother Rob added, “No society with rampant homosexuality has flourished.”
“What about Greece?” I thought. “And Rome?” Ancient Greece produced Socrates, Plato, Aristotle and tragedy that many modern dramatists say has never been equaled. Rome produced Pax Romana, peace like the world has never seen, and a system of governance that lasted well over 1000 years.
As if in answer to my thoughts, Brother Rob spoke. “Greece?” he said. “Gone. Rome? Gone.”
One day, I thought, you will be gone too.
After the service Lyle took me by the arm and led me up to meet his preacher. Jeb,” he said, “I want you to meet Brother Rob.” I wanted to grab the back of Brother Rob’s head and dunk it in a toilet. Flush! I imagined his carefully combed hair rearranged like twirled ice cream. I shook his hand and walked out of the church.
posted by Jeb Butler at 5:55 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home