Two Medicine (31 page)

I looked at the clock by my
bed and it said 6:30 a.m.
What the
hell?
When did this weird church
start
exactly? It was the
earliest I had even been up since arriving there. Larry was always
criticizing me and Ronnie that we were missing incredible sunrises
by sleeping in, but Ronnie always reminded him that he was missing
the vast stretch of stars and the Milky Way panoramas by going to
bed so early, and that he was going to miss the Perseid meteor
shower to boot.

I nevertheless dragged
myself out of bed, remembering how intently Katie had asked me
about going, in the hall, drunkenly. I splashed some water over my
face and got dressed.

Katie and I left together
and strolled slowly down the gravel path that led from the store
towards the campsites. She was carrying her old, tattered Bible. It
was a brilliant day – white sunlight blanketed everything, and it
wasn’t too hot. It was the perfect kind of warmth from the sun that
lights up everything in a clean, bright white, yet doesn’t bake
everything to a crisp and ruin it all.

It was about 7:30 when we
finally arrived at the campsite, which was actually more of a
cleared-out meeting spot on the ground than a campsite, because
there were wooden benches set up there. It looked like a place a
ranger would give a talk to some kids perhaps, or where there’d be
a Boy Scout meeting.

There was a small group
present already, a few families with kids struggling out of their
parents’ grasps to run around in the camp area, and parents trying
to hold everything together for an awkward young preacher who was
standing near the center, about to start.

Katie had told me that the
young guy was just another staffer at the lodge, working for the
park like us, but that the park looked for people every year from
different faiths who would agree to give sermons on Sunday
mornings. This kid looked to be about nineteen years old, and he
was dressed strangely – he wore the common tan cargo pants and
hiking boots that people in that area often wore, but he had put on
a button-down dress shirt and even stranger a blue suit jacket, to
add a little decorum to the service apparently. The jacket stuck
out oddly amongst all of us dressed in t-shirts and shorts, but it
added a sense of apartness to the young man which kind of fit – in
the prophet-among-the-people sort of way. He had a dark crop of
hair, a dark beard kept short, and glasses; and he looked like a
studious science student more than an outdoorsman or errant
prophet.

He began with a prayer and
he definitely sounded nervous. I figured he was just some kid who’d
grown up in the church and was very devout, and picked up the call
to preach this summer as an extra job for the park; or maybe he was
a seminary student and this was part of the deal for them to
graduate – preaching somewhere for the summer. He seemed to really
be taking this service seriously, though, and I admired his trying
to do his best – his earnestness was nice to see.

After the opening prayer
and a quick greeting to those of us in the congregation as his eyes
flicked around at the group, he went into the sermon, reading a
verse from the New Testament. He then he gave about a 10-minute
talk on it, telling us what he thought was important to take away
from the words.

“
Matthew 5, verses 3
through 11,” he said. “Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs
is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn: for they
shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit
the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after
righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful:
for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: for
they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be
called the children of God. Blessed are they which are persecuted
for righteousness’ sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and
shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my
sake.”

He closed the book,
keeping a finger in the place where he had read, and looked up to
us, his erstwhile congregation, sitting in the sun on the benches,
listening respectfully to him. Growing up going to church, it felt
both strange and normal for me at the same time, sitting there in
the middle of such natural splendor and listening to this young,
earnest preacher, among strangers on their summer vacations. Bible
preaching always seemed to fit the outdoors, to me, though.
Probably because it mostly happened outdoors in the Bible, as far
as I could remember of Jesus’ traveling around. There was also John
the Baptist, who came “out of the wilderness…” I remembered, as the
preacher began his talk. In the Bible everything happened out in
the wilderness…

His voice brought me back
into the moment. “In our faith,” he began, his voice still peppered
with a nervous shakiness, and his bespectacled glance flitting from
one face to another, “These verses are called “
the Beatitudes
,” which means
“joyful,” or, more accurately, “blissful” in Latin.”

He paused a moment and
then started to pace in front of us, looking down at his scripture
and then up at the trees, alternating. I had the feeling that the
pacing was planned as a part of his presentation. “They are the
teachings by Jesus that describe 10 blessings, which are very
short, and a little unusual to our modern ears,” he continued. “But
they are so full of meaning.”

He stopped and faced us.
“Each Beatitude consists of two parts: the first is the condition
and the second is the result. Poor – rich; meek – dominant; in
mourning – comforted; persecuted – honored. Poor, mourning,
persecuted, these conditions were well known to the Jews in Jesus’
time, and were a part of their regular lives and synagogue
teachings. But Jesus teaches here a new way to think about them
lowly places. Those conditions were of suffering and were well
known to humble, displaced, and ruled-over people, as the Jews
lived under the Roman rule.

“
But,”
he stabbed a finger at the pages in his hand, “Jesus was also
talking about Christianity. Each of these conditions, these
unpleasant states of being, the early Christians were going to
experience, soon – from the Jews and the Romans, and everybody
else. By promising that their lowly and painful way of life would
soon turn into a victorious one, he gave his followers hope, as it
should also give
us
hope.”

“
So,” he resumed after a
pause, “the Beatitudes give us a new set of models, Christian
models, that focus on a spirit of love and humility – different
than what they were used to hearing in Jesus’ time. These verses
show us the highest ideals to strive for, showing us how to live
for mercy, humility, and compassion. Even when we are
persecuted.”

He looked at us for a
moment, peering at us as debating in his head if he should say
more, and then he said, “So let us pray.”

He began his closing
prayer, asking God to help us live under those ideals that would
lead us to victory. I looked over at Katie who had her head bowed
and eyes closed; she was mouthing some words that were different
than the prayer the young preacher was giving. Katie had sat like a
stone the entire talk, as I had seen in a couple sideways
glances.

After it was over some of
the campers came up and shook the preacher’s hand, and spoke for a
few minutes. I asked Katie if we were free to go, but she didn’t
respond and just got up and went over to him to talk. After she
said something to him, he nodded his head vigorously and they
talked for a good ten minutes more.

I sat on the bench while
they talked, still a little groggy from the early rising. I idly
kicked at the gravel and dirt with my boots a bit, and watched the
campers in the various spots I could see through the trees along
the footpath around us. They milled around, some making breakfast,
others packing up, some just arriving and unpacking, ready for a
few days in paradise. I would seem them in the store, soon, I
reflected. A few of them had small trailer campers pulled into the
lots, but mostly there were just tents, large and small, colorful
domes that peeked through the pine boughs as the wind blew through
the trees.

I thought about
what the preacher had said – about how the meek
shall inherit the earth. Was did it mean to be meek, really? And
what did it mean to inherit the earth – in this life, or the next?
Phyllis was meek, it seemed; would she dominate over Larry someday?
Would she inherit anything? Katie was meek, in her own tough and
eccentric way…

I resolved, if was dragged
back here by Katie again some early morning, to ask the preacher
what the meek will inherit. But Katie suddenly kicked my boots as I
looked through the trees. “Let’s go.” She grabbed my hand and
pulled me forward.

I looked at her out of the
corner of my eye as we walked, trying to gauge her mood, which was
never easy with her at the best of times, and certainly not at that
moment. She seemed more moodier than when we had set out that
morning, despite what I thought was a actually a pleasant little
sermon – nothing to get upset about…

“
I liked his message,” I
said to her, politely testing the waters. “Short and
sweet!”

She didn’t acknowledge
that I had spoken, and didn’t say a word at first, and we walked
on. But suddenly she said in a sad voice, “I was supposed to be the
pastor here this summer, not that guy. But I canceled after I got
here; told the park I wasn’t going to do it. They just found that
guy at the last minute, I think.”

“
Oh?” I asked. “I don’t
think I could see you preaching the Beatitudes up there, for some
reason.” I smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back, but just
stared straight ahead.

As we walked on our boots
crunching the gravel; our shadows stood out sharp and black under
the white sun that fell in force around us.

“
I just couldn’t act like
I was some big Christian, and stand there and preach to people like
I was some holy roller or something – like I’m a part of the
church,” she said bitterly.

“
Are you not a part of
it?”

She snorted. “Well my
parents are
both
pastors, and I grew up in a pretty strict Christian home – a
preacher’s kid times two. I was actually in seminary studying to be
a pastor, to go on missions overseas, until last year.”

She paused. “What happened last year?” I
asked.

“
Last summer I did serve
the preacher out here, in Two Med.” She pushed a blonde strand that
had come loose from her ponytail back behind her ear. “I just
couldn’t do this anymore – I felt like such a
hypocrite.”

I could feel something
dark flowing around like lava inside her – just by the way she
walked I could see something was affecting her. We crunched on;
there is nothing like just walking to bring out even the most
difficult of conversation.

“
My father is this big
deal back home,” she said after a few moments of walking. “But I
just got a note from my mom that the family is moving, again.” Her
voice sounded strange, and I looked over at her and saw tears in
her eyes. She wiped them away with her palms. “My father moved us
seventeen times when I was growing up,” she said.

“
My father has cheated on
my mother seventeen times; and each time he did we have to move
because of it – and they are these big shots in the Church
community wherever they go. Nobody knows about it.” She sniffed
back tears and looked at the ground as we walked.

I stepped a little closer
and reached for her hand, she glanced over at me and then took my
hand. It was shaking a little and after a moment she started to
cry, wiping her tears away again with her other hand as we walked.
She tried to speak again but just made a muffled,
gurgle.

“
Katie, it’s ok,” I said.
“You’re here now, with us, in this weird place. It’s a different
life.”

She shook her head and
said, “But I’ll eventually go back. I know I will. Like last time
he did it he said he had finished forever – he swore on the Bible –
his hand on the actual Bible. And now I get a letter from my mom
that they are moving – that’s all it said. I
know
what it means. I feel horrible
for my little brother, still with them.”

She sobbed for a moment.
“My father… that fucking pig! Swore on the Bible, and what good did
it do?” She pushed me away suddenly, and bracing the Bible under
her arm, wiped the tears from her red eyes with her forearm, like a
child does. “My mom is such a sucker,” she said
viciously.

She sniffed, “If that’s
what it’s like to be a Christian, then, I don’t want any part of
it.” She held up the tattered book in her hand, stared at it a
moment, and then reared back and threw it as far as she could into
the woods off to our left. I heard it crash though some brush and
land with a thud in the leaves on the ground.

I looked over to where it
had landed, off somewhere in the trees. I imagined some person
finding it out there and seeing it as some sign from above… a
direct intervention from God himself!

Katie kept walking and
didn’t look back. “
And
he’s a fucking drunk,” she said, tears replaced with an angry
glare focused straight ahead of us down the trail. “He drinks all
the time, but when he drinks heavy he goes bat-shit crazy. Last
time, before I left for Two Med the first time, I was at home one
night, like a Friday night, and he comes into the basement where us
kids used to hang out and watch TV.