Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Short Story

Looking at the clock, Michael realized how long it had been since he'd gotten home from his morning shift at the Feed & Seed. It had been passed down from his grandparents, to his father and, then, to him. It would be another hour before his wife, Christie, got home from her job at the hospital. Fondly, he remembered the day they met, in his senior year of college. She had come into the store to purchase a pack of nails and he had been running the counter. They had met for coffee the next day and fell in love almost immediately, or, at least, he did. Immediately, he had known that there was something special about her. For as long as he could remember, he had felt called to help people. In talking, he learned that she too wanted to help people. She said she felt as if it was her purpose in life--that, if she were born for only one thing, it was to be a doctor. She wanted it so much that she was willing to do it for free. Call it a tad self-centered, but he was glad she didn't have to. Upon graduation, she had received an offer from a prestigious hospital nearby to work full-time. To be honest, he didn't have stomach to work in an ER. What he wanted to do was to be a counselor. He wanted to clothe the poor and feed the hungry. He wanted everyone to have a home and a job. He wanted to abolish the helplessness, hurt and anger so many people were forced to live with. Above all, he wanted to give hope. He wanted everyone to know that someone cared enough to notice them, really notice, and step up. Unable to do everything, he had done all he could, throwing himself into everything he could, every chance he had. Everytime he had seen someone in his community in need, he had acted. He organized food drives and other community events continuously.

One day, he was called by James, the head of a local like-minded nonprofit, and asked to come speak. It had come to the man's attention that Michael was very well-thought of in the community--so much so that he could go almost nowhere without hearing about something Michael had done. After learning more about him and consulting a close friend, James decided to meet him in person. That was almost a year ago and he was now speaking weekly. It made for very busy days, between the Feed & Seed, planning what he would speak on the following weekend and everything he still did in the community, but he wouldn't have it any other way. If and when he retired, he would slow down. Maybe.

Stretching, Michael rose from the somewhat uncomfortable desk chair and stepped into the hall. It was time to put dinner in the oven. He liked to surprise Christie whenever he could and the surest way to do it was by having a delicious dinner waiting for her on the days she had to work longer shifts, or by picking her up after work for dinner at a restaurant, or by having a bundle of flowers delivered to her at work. Today, it was dinner at home. Bending to retrieve his mail from the floor below the slot in the door, his back protested the effort and, for easily the thousandth time, he vowed to purchase another, more comfortable chair the first chance he got. He was not even thirty yet and he felt old some days. Guiltily, he realized, as he always did, that he had been saying this for a couple years. Again, he supposed he shouldn't complain about his chair as he could have to go without a chair and, indeed, there were people less fortunate than he. The padding was replaced with a pillow the Fall before last, and twice since, but the chair itself was still intact. His wife kept saying that, one of these days, she would replace his chair, no matter how much he protested. Once, he had even agreed, but then had seen the price tag on a decent desk chair and had bought a seat cushion instead. For the price of a desk chair, he could feed a family of three for nearly a month. He thought he might go ahead and get the desk chair this time. They had a little money in the savings account. For a while, Christie was getting flack from some of her colleagues about how much money they gave away each month, but she would just smile until, finally, they stopped. She said she explained her outlook on life the first couple times, but they thought it was foolish. Her colleagues dreamed of nicer houses, new cars and at least one vacation trip each year. She however had grown up poor and was happy to have a car she could count on, a comfortable house and the security of being able to pay the bills. The rest was extra. Over the last several months, they had expanded their outreach to include the surrounding counties. He and his wife were truly fortunate to be able to do so much for people and to see such good things happening in the lives of those around them.

After setting the timer, Michael stepped back into the office and used his pocket knife to open the first of the envelopes, then eased himself back into the chair. It was a letter from a young couple, thanking him for the time he had spent with them over the past few months. Barely out of high school, they had found themselves expecting a child and the father had freaked out. He had wanted an abortion, but she had not been raised to believe in abortions. They fought bitterly and he walked out. Not knowing what else to do, she had tearfully called Michael, an old family friend, and he called her boyfriend. Four hours later, they reconciled with Michael's promise to help in every way possible, from maternity supplies to help with the bills to, if necessary, help finding adoptive parents. If they decided to keep the child, he promised to continue helping for as long as he could. As it happened, business had recently picked up at the store. In addition to the job he had, the father would be working part-time there until they decided what they wanted to do. Another letter was less heart-warming, but nonetheless welcome for its significance. A young teenage boy had been sexually abused by a relative and, when he told his parents, was called a liar and punished. Devastated, he had run away. Michael had been on the way back from the grocery store when he saw the boy huddled under an overhang, waiting out the rain storm. Without thinking twice, he had pulled over immediately and, after introducing himself, gave him a ride home. They talked for a while and, after dinner, he called the police and social services. Thankfully, they agreed to let him stay with Michael and his wife until his aunt and uncle could come. Today, almost two weeks after helping him move, Michael was reading a letter in which the boy thanked him for everything, then moved on to talking about his new life.

Michael swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped his eyes. Setting the bills aside to go through later, he returned his attention to the speech in front of him. He only had another day to finish it, but he just didn't know what to speak on. Nothing seemed right. Then, he thought of a conversation he had overheard the other day, as he was closing the store. He thought of the concern in the voices of the small group of people, and the frustration on their faces. The country was steadily growing more apathetic as the years passed and people were not only not being helped, but were being blamed for circumstances that often, they had no control over. This was a large part of his passion in life. Even if he were the only one, he wanted to be the exception. As he passed by, he recognized them from the nonprofit. They were there almost every week when he spoke. It had unsettled him to hear one of them express disappointment in the fact that neither he nor James ever spoke on political issues. The others had agreed, saying that they wished more community leaders would speak up. Many times, he had spoken on social issues, but never political ones. Now, especially with the elections coming up, he knew what he would say.

* * *

It had been a few weeks since he gave his speech and it had been very well-received--so well, in fact, that his email account had been flooded with requests to hear him speak on various other subjects. Michael dropped onto the sofa and opened an official-looking envelope that had arrived that day. Scanning the page, he thought it must be a mistake. He had broken no laws. Immediately, he picked up the phone and called the number at the bottom.

"Hello? How may I direct your call?" a calm, soothing voice answered.

"Good afternoon. I'd like to speak to Senator Donaldson, please."

"He's out on business. Is there something I can do for you?"

"I just received a letter from him informing me that I am not allowed to speak on political issues because the place in which I choose to do so does not pay taxes."

"Um, I don't know why that would be a problem. Could you please give me more info? Why does it not pay taxes?

"It's categorized federally as a nonprofit."

"I see. I'm sure there must have been a misunderstanding. If you could please hold one moment, Senator Bryant just walked in. Hopefully, he can straighten this out."

"Thank you."

"Hello. This is Senator Bryant."

"Good afternoon. This is Michael Patton. I'm on the staff of the Foothills Outreach Center in Maryton, South Carolina. I received a letter from Senator Donaldson today informing me that I am not allowed to speak on political issues because the center is a nonprofit and, therefore, does not pay taxes. In addition, I've been warned that, if I continue, we will lose our nonprofit status and be taxed like everyone else."

"That's correct."

Taking a deep breath, Michael swallowed his rising anger and spoke calmly. "Why exactly is it not allowed? Nothing I have said is illegal, arousing of violence, hate or bias, or, in any other way, in violation of any law."

"It is not allowed because your organization does not pay taxes. In addition to being a nonprofit, it is a religious one and, thus, for you to speak on political issues is a violation of the Separation of Church and State because your doing so mixes your religious beliefs and politics."

"I see. Well, on the first point, that the center does not pay taxes does not mean I do not pay taxes. As the owner of the Feed & Seed here in Maryton, I pay taxes. My wife, a doctor, pays a lot in taxes. We pay taxes on everything except food, from our house, to our car, to the things we purchase. Every, or nearly every, person who attends each week pays taxes. Am I to understand then that, on this point alone, my Constitutional right to freedom of speech applies everywhere I go, anytime of day or night, except in this one place, where, it just so happens that a large portion of my community has grown accustomed to meeting, and that their Constitutional right to freedom of speech applies everywhere except there?"

"Well, I...I guess not, but there's also the second part. The Separation of Church and State is what complicates things. It clearly states that there is a barrier between religion and politics, keeping any religious group from influencing how the country is run."

"On the contrary, it does not say that. If it did, almost no one in the country could vote because the majority of the country claims one religion or another and religious beliefs play a heavy role in people's lives. What this statement says is "
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or the press; or of the right of the people to peaceably assemble and to petition the government for a redress of grievances." This was written in a letter from Thomas Jefferson to the Danbury Baptist Association. I understand that our founding fathers were very religious men and, in many of Jefferson's writings, he encouraged the free exercise of religion. Therefore, as long as church leaders do not encourage their congregations to treat others with bias, to commit acts of violence or to break any other laws, there is no law that stops us, as pastors, from speaking about social or political issues. I earnestly believe it to be to the benefit of the country and its people for church leaders to speak on social issues because people look to their leaders for guidance and support. When we are able to give that, people are able to live in a more structured and successful manner. Fewer laws are broken. Communities are safer, families are stronger and, in some cases, businesses are successful. If you want to look up Maryton sometime, you'll see what I mean."

"I'm familiar with Maryton," he said quietly.

"Then, you know what it was like, not that many years ago, and how much it's changed. I'm not one to toot my own horn; but, without my work, and without the Foothills Outreach Center, Maryton would still be going down that dark road it was on before."

There was a long, thoughtful moment of silence. "I have to go, but you've given me a lot to think about today. The more I think about it, the more I realize how many churches and church-based organizations there are in the U.S. To silence all of them would likely cripple our country, more than it already has been. I will be spending a lot of time this week researching the laws and speaking with Senator Donaldson, in order to, hopefully, resolve this issue. I would advise that you hold onto the letter you received, just in case, but I don't think you're going to have any further issues."

"Thank you."

"My pleasure. Thank you."

Hanging up the phone, Michael rested his face in his hands and wearily thanked God for the way that conversation had turned out. That it had even been an issue told him it would again and he was all too aware of how different it would have been if Senator Bryant had been just a little less open-minded, a little more anti-religion. Until then, he had only really thought of himself as an advocate and community leader. Being a pastor wasn't something he really put a lot of significance in, since he represented Christ in everything he said and did. Now, it took on new meaning. Someone had contacted the senators' office with a complaint against him, not because he was speaking about social and political beliefs, but because he dared to do so as a pastor. If he were not a pastor, that person would most likely have gone about his/her business, not appreciating his viewpoint, but not filing a complaint either. He made a note to email James later, just in case he received this letter too. With resolve, he also made a note to write his next speech--sermon--on the Separation of Church and State and what the Bible says about being involved in society and politics.

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To the best of my knowledge, no churches have yet received notices like this, but they are continuously being sued, and threatened with lawsuits, for teaching and enforcing Biblical standards that are contradictory to what other members of society want, even though they are not in violation of any laws and only apply within the boundaries of their individual churches. Likewise, there is a growing movement demanding that churches either stop speaking about social/political beliefs or that they be taxed separately for their right to do so. As Americans, we already have the right to freedom of speech and freedom of religion, without limits on where and when, as long as we do not violate other laws in doing so. Please speak up now for the First Amendment and the true meaning of the Separation of Church and State before every member of the country is silenced.

Why, you ask, do I say every member? Because "religion" is defined as a person's beliefs with regard to a deity or deities. As such, by definition, even atheism is a religion because, as strongly as I believe in God, atheists believe there is none. As strongly as I believe that God's word has a role in every aspect of my life, many people--believers and nonbelievers--believe it does not, that it should only apply to my personal life and, then, only as far as it doesn't affect anyone else--terms that, to truly meet, I would have to be a hermit. To truly remove religious beliefs from society and politics, we would have to remove religion from the country. Because even atheism is a religion, it's pointless to even try. So, please eliminate this form of bigotry against churches by speaking up for our rights as Americans and the true meaning of the Separation of Church and State. If you have the courage, go one step further and encourage your church leaders to get involved more, in their communities and socially.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

I thoroughly enjoyed reading Night Sighs by Emma Meade, available through www.emmameade.com. My only regret is that they're short stories and that there weren't more of them. As good as the ending was, I would like to have kept reading.

Excerpt
    "It’s who I am."
    "Yes."
    "A vampire Alex."
    "Uhuh."
    "I never make them suffer."
    "My hero."
    Tristan pushed her away and she stood. Sunlight had crept halfway across the dusty, attic floor and he watched Alex step back into it, out of his reach.
    "What do you want from me?" he asked after a long minute’s silence.
    Alex shook her head.
    "Nothing but this."
    "Do you really love me?" Tristan wanted to know, not releasing her from his unwavering gaze. He never blinked.
    Alex smiled warmly. "More than anything else in this world."
    "Promise?"
    "Promise," she said as if to a child.

* * *

    "She left me that morning," Tristan spoke to his avid audience. "Crept out into the light, knowing I couldn’t follow. Saving herself and me is how she put it. Because the night was too dark for her..."
    A roar rose up from the 50,000 strong crowd in the rural landscape miles outside London. Tristan stepped back from the microphone and lowered his head. His long black mane had been cut into jagged spikes. Silver crosses hung from his ears and on a chain around his neck, gleaming brightly against his black t-shirt and dark ripped jeans. A glance behind at his band told him they were good to go.
    The moon illuminated the five vampires on the roofless stage, spotlighting Tristan as the opening bars on the piano sounded. His fans screamed again. Some were crying, others fainting, many more were as high as the grey clouds overhead.
    Because the Night was a favourite cover the band liked to perform. Another haunting note on the piano followed and then the first strum of Tristan’s guitar. His thumb scraping well used strings was met with the wild screams of teenage girls. He satisfied them with a few more twangs.
    And then. Silence. The band stopped. The crowd was unsure, excited and dizzy with anticipation.
    Tristan lifted his head and stared straight ahead. The cameras focused on him for a close up and his face appeared on the dozens of temporarily erected screens throughout the park.