21: Finrod Gets Religion

Sunday morning, Finrod felt restless for some reason, and so, shortly after nine, once breakfast was over, he announced that he was going to take a walk. Several people offered to join him, including Glorfindel.

“We could spend the time discussing how we will handle things between us,” he suggested.

“And under other circumstances, I would welcome such discussion,” Finrod said, “but I really need to be alone, I think. Perhaps when I return we can discuss it.”

“Well, enjoy your walk then,” Glorfindel said with a smile.

“I will not be very long, perhaps just an hour or so,” Finrod promised and he grabbed his cloak and stepped outside, breathing in the fresh air with delight, enjoying the cold, piney scent on the breeze, which was unusually mild, hinting of spring yet to come. The sky was still dark, but most of the stars were fading into the midnight blue. The sun would be rising shortly, though it would not be staying for very long yet. Still, he could tell that already the daylight was lasting longer. He made his way past the gates and turned right, taking Kodiak with the intention of strolling through town. There was little traffic and no pedestrians, giving the place a deserted feel. As he reached the corner where St. Mary’s was, however, he saw the cars and heard the singing. The church was all lit up and its stained glass windows shone in a multitude of colors. On an impulse, he entered.

Once inside the foyer, Finrod hesitated, unsure of his welcome, and willed himself to stillness and being unnoticed by the Mortals. From where he stood he could see that nearly every pew was occupied and some people were standing in the back. Glorfindel had told him something about such places and their purpose, but the idea of worship was alien to him, for when one conversed with Valar on a regular basis, there was no need of worship. It seemed to be a Mortal need.

Curiosity drove him forward, stopping at the doorway into the sanctuary, not quite entering it, fearful of offending anyone with his presence. One or two of those standing in the back looked to see who had come in, and their eyes widened in surprise at the sight of him, but no one attempted to deny him entrance or ask him to leave. Had any done so, he would have complied with all humility, apologizing for his intrusion, but that did not happen and so he stood there in the doorway, his gaze taking in everything. Everyone was standing and he saw Charles in green robes standing at a podium and he was reading from a book.

“….A man fell victim to robbers as he went down from Jerusalem to Jericho….”

Finrod listened to the tale of a man being left for dead with interest, wondering what the story was meant to convey. He was unsure what a Levite was or who a Samaritan was, but he felt he knew the moral as Charles finished reading.

“The Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ,” the old priest intoned, holding the book up.

“Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ,” the congregation said in return and then sat.

Charles placed the book on a side table and then came down from the altar to speak. “‘Who is my neighbor?’ the young scholar of the law asked. Now, on the face of it, that’s a pretty stupid question. After all, most of us know who are neighbors are, don’t we? Yet, what the young man is truly asking Jesus is: who should I consider my neighbor? Remember, he was a scholar of the law, he was probably a Pharisee, well versed in all the laws of the Jews and a faithful follower of them, yet, he needs to know just who, under the law, is his neighbor. Jesus, as was typical, answered with a parable. Now, you have to understand just how radical this story is. The man attacked by robbers is assumed to be a Jew and the first two people who come upon him, the priest and the Levite, were careful followers of the law, but they did not assist the victim, for under Jewish law, they probably would have become ritually unclean. It was a Samaritan, whom the Jews hated for many historical reasons I won’t bore you with, who comes to the poor man’s rescue.

“So you may say to yourself: I guess, like the Samaritan, I’m supposed to show compassion and do good works and that’s how I will earn my ticket to heaven. But that is not what Jesus is telling us here. Oh no, my friends, he’s not saying that at all. What he is describing is how God sees us, each and every one of us. God’s love and compassion makes human distinctions irrelevant, just as it did for the Samaritan. The Samaritan saw a fellow human in need and responded accordingly, without thought for himself. God does the same.

“And now you will say to yourself: Well that’s all fine and good, but what does that have to do with anything? I’m a good person. I treat most people fairly, although Mr. Smith across the street drives me bananas with his loud music and I could cheerfully strangle Mrs. Jones, the miserable gossip. So what’s the deal?”

The congregation chuckled at this point and Charles smiled. “The deal, my friends, is this. Who is my neighbor? That is the burning question of the day. Who is my neighbor? And the short answer is: everyone.”

All the time he was speaking, the priest had been moving back and forth, speaking directly to individuals in the pews, but at that moment, he happened to look up and his gaze locked onto Finrod and he hesitated for a split second before resuming his speech.

“Our neighbor is not just the person living next door to us, or across the street. Our neighbor is not just a member of this parish or a resident of Wiseman. Our neighbor is the stranger who shows up at the café for a cup of coffee on his way to Deadhorse. Our neighbor is the alien among us, come to us from distant shores. Our neighbor is anyone and everyone we encounter in our daily lives and like God, we are enjoined not to make any distinctions between them. They are our neighbors and our fellow sojourners in life, and just as the Samaritan showed spontaneous love and compassion for the man who fell victim to robbers, so we must do the same to whomever we meet, whether we think they deserve it or not.”

The priest spent a few more minutes speaking, mentioning passages from other readings which Finrod had missed hearing before finishing and making his way up to the altar to stand before a chair. “So let us stand and profess our faith. I believe in God….”

The congregation stood and began reciting the Creed, but Finrod paid little attention to it or to what followed. He was thinking of leaving, not wishing to intrude any further, but curiosity kept him rooted and he watched the ceremony unfold. He little understood what was being said or done or why and he vowed to himself to speak with Charles later.

“Let us offer each other a sign of peace,” Charles said and people began turning to one another to shake hands or, in some cases, exchange kisses. Finrod remained standing where he was, an island of stillness in a sea of movement. And then he saw a child, a young boy of perhaps ten or twelve approach him, holding out his hand. “Peace be with you,” he whispered shyly. Finrod felt rather than saw those nearby becoming still, watching. He looked down at the child and smiled, taking the proffered hand. “Sérë asetyë, hinya,” he said softly. “Hantanyet.”

The boy grinned and then ran back to his family where his mother gathered him into her arms and kissed him. The father nodded gravely at Finrod, who nodded back. He decided it was time to leave and ignoring the looks of the Mortals around him, he pulled up his hood and walked out of the church to resume his walk.

He was not sure where he was going, but he felt driven for some reason as he crossed through the town square and onto a side street, one he’d never been down before. He came upon a small white brick building nestled between two stores. A sign outside announced that it was the ‘Hickory Street New Jerusalem Gospel Church, Rev. Josiah Makepeace, Pastor.’ He could hear singing, something bright and cheerful and full of joy, and it drew him. He stepped inside, expecting to see something similar to what he had seen in St. Mary’s, but this was different. For one thing, it was very plain and there was no altar to speak of. A large group of people dressed in red and gold robes stood to one side and they were singing and clapping their hands, but so was everyone else sitting in the pews. Most of the people there were African-Americans, if he recalled the designation correctly, but there was a sprinkling of others with lighter skin tones and even a few whom he recognized as oriental. To his surprise, he saw his employer, Nicholas Greene, sitting in a pew to his right, singing and clapping along with everyone else.

Someone came up to him, a young Man with dark skin and a wide smile, dressed in what Finrod knew passed as formal wear among the Mortals of this day.

“Welcome, Brother!” the Man said, holding out his hand to shake.

“I do not wish to intrude—”

“All are welcome, sir. I’m Marcus Makepeace, by the way.”

“Quinn O’Brien,” Finrod answered automatically. Marcus gave him a surprised look, but he ignored it. “Makepeace. You are a relation of Josiah Makepeace?”

Marcus’ smile widened even more and he straightened. “My dad,” he said proudly.

The choir finished its song and then a Man stepped forward in black robes. His features were an older version of Marcus’ and Finrod knew this was the young Man’s father, Josiah Makepeace. The Man stood before a podium and began speaking. “Matthew five, verses forty-three to forty-eight. You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” As he finished reading, he closed the book.

“Amen,” the congregation intoned.

Josiah Makepeace moved down to speak more directly with the people. “Love your enemies. Now there’s a hard saying. It’s hard enough just to love your neighbor!” He pointed to a Man in the front row to his left. “Walter, here, don’t even like his neighbor, and Emily returns the favor.” Now he pointed to a Woman sitting three rows back on the other side of the aisle. There was some mild tittering in the audience. “Oh yes! We’ve seen you, both of you, snarling at one another, don’t you be thinking we haven’t. The whole town knows you two can’t abide one another.” He gave them what appeared to be a malicious grin, but Finrod detected a glint of amusement mingled with love, similar to one he had seen on many a Vala’s face when dealing with an Elf. Both Walter and Emily appeared abashed, keeping their eyes down.

“And if we poor Mortals can see it, surely the Lord can,” Makepeace continued.

“Amen, Brother!” someone shouted.

“Praise the Lord!” another added and there was a great deal of head nodding all around.

Finrod glanced at Marcus standing beside him, the young Man’s face wreathed with a smile and catching Finrod’s eyes, he winked, leaning over to whisper. “Dad always likes to pick on people. Ain’t no one who hasn’t been mentioned in one of Dad’s sermons.”

Finrod nodded and turned his attention to Josiah who was still speaking. “Love your enemies! Love your neighbor. Love God. Love. Love. LOVE!” He held out his hands wide, arching his back so he was looking up at the ceiling, though his eyes were closed. He held the pose for a split second before lowering his hands and looking about him. “The Lord don’t tell us to love just our neighbors, as he mentions in the Parable of the Good Samaritan.” Finrod started at that, remembering what had been read at St. Mary’s. “He don’t tell us just to love God and ourselves and nobody else. No. He tells us to love everyone.”

“Tell it like it is, Reverend,” someone yelled out.

Finrod hid a smile, amused by the people in the pews commenting on Josiah’s words. He had a sudden image of his atar’s court and people saying things like ‘Good judgment, Arafinwë’ and ‘That’s telling them, Sire’ and forced himself not to laugh out loud at the ludicrousness of it all, though he suspected that his atar would find it all very amusing.

Josiah moved up the central aisle to speak to someone in the fourth row. “Do you love everyone Asa Danforth?”

“I surely do, Rev’rend,” the Man said with a nod. He was elderly, with snow-white hair.

“Even those godless Elves?” Josiah whispered, though everyone in the church heard him.

Finrod stiffened and a thrill of fear ran through him as he unconsciously went for a sword that was not there. He started backing up, determined to leave, but Marcus grabbed him by the arm and whispered, “No, Brother. Don’t be running away. You’ll miss the best part.”

Finrod stared at the young Man, seeing the light of anticipation in his eyes, recognizing that Marcus knew exactly what his father was going to say and relishing the outcome. That alone intrigued him, and he relaxed slightly. Marcus released him, turning his attention to the drama unfolding before him. Finrod followed suit. Josiah had not moved, and neither had anyone else.

Asa Danforth just goggled at the pastor. “Wha’ you mean, Rev’rend? Them Elves ain’t human. Why should I love them or give them the time of day?”

“Why indeed?” Josiah said rhetorically. “Who are your enemies, Asa?”

“Why, nobody,” Asa replied hotly. “I ain’t got no enemies to speak of.”

“Indeed?” Josiah retorted skeptically. “I beg to differ.” He turned to look directly at Finrod and pointed. “There is your enemy!” he shouted and everyone turned to look and several people gasped and not a few moaned, looking terrified. Finrod found he could not move, frozen to the spot as he stared at the Man pointing at him, wondering how he was going to get out of there alive.

“Yes, he’s the enemy, ain’t he?” Josiah said with a sneer. “Not human, godless, ain’t got no soul, a deceiver and a liar, seducing your children to the Dark. Ain’t that true, Brothers? Ain’t that true, Sisters?”

Finrod felt his blood freeze as the litany of hate rolled off Josiah’s lips.

“Praise the Lord,” someone said rather faintly.

“Amen” and “Alleluia” were also uttered by one or two of the congregation.

“THEN LOVE HIM!” Josiah nearly screamed. “Pray for him!”

“Bu…but… Rev’rend he… he’s an Elf,” a Woman protested.

“But he’s your enemy, Carlotta. You just said so. And what does Jesus tell us to do? Love your enemies.” He glanced around, apparently gauging everyone’s reactions. Finrod noticed Nicholas sitting there grinning like an idiot and he could not figure out why. Did Nicholas truly believe him an enemy? The thought saddened and sickened him and he wanted to just leave, but the next words out of Josiah’s mouth stayed him.

“If you love someone, are they not your friends? Are they not your family? If you love someone, how then can they be your enemy? ‘Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect’ Jesus tells us. He don’t tell us to be good. He don’t tell us to be friendly. He tells us to be PERFECT! Are you perfect, Daniel?” He pointed to a young Man who shook his head in embarrassment. “Are you, Graciella?” he asked a middle-aged Woman who shrugged and gave him a tentative smile. “No. We’re none of us perfect. Why? Because we don’t love our enemies or those we think are our enemies. How can we call ourselves Christians, followers of Jesus, if we have hatred in our hearts for just one person?”’

“Elves ain’t persons, Rev’rend,” Asa retorted. “Ev’ryone knows that.”

“I don’t,” Josiah shot back.

“But they’s not in the Good Book,” a Woman shouted. “They’s devil spawn.”

Finrod felt himself grow faint, the air closing in. Marcus grabbed his elbow. “Steady, Brother. If you faint or leave, you’ll miss the best part.”

Finrod’s eyes widened and he steeled himself, focusing on Josiah, whose expression one could only call triumphant, as if he’d just won a great battle, and perhaps he had or was about to, Finrod realized: a battle for these people’s souls.

“True, true. I searched every word and passage and saw no mention of Elves,” Josiah allowed. “Saw no mention of dinosaurs, either, but we’ve seen their bones and know that once they ruled this world, before any of our ancestors ever came to be. Why not Elves? Who are we to tell God who He can and cannot create? We’re nothing but clay, my friends. Does the clay tell the potter what to make or how to make it? No! Nor should we. If there be no mention of Elves in the Bible, so what? There’s no mention of television or cell phones or computers either, yet we have them and use them and no one says, ‘Oh they’s the devil’s work’.”

“Except when they don’t work properly,” someone said and there were titters of laughter all around.

Josiah smiled. “Love your enemies, whoever they are,” he said softly, returning to the topic of his sermon. “Jesus doesn’t say, ‘Love the people you think deserve it’ and he doesn’t say ‘Love your enemies whenever you feel like it’. He says ‘Love your enemies and pray for them’. We pray for our friends and our family all the time. How many of us truly pray for those we think are our enemies?  And that’s the key, isn’t it? We think they are our enemies, but God doesn’t. You want to know why?”

“Tell us, Reverend!” someone shouted.

“Because God doesn’t see enemies. He sees children. His children. His creations. His universe and everything and everyone in it, including Elves. They’re all his and he loves it… and us… and him.” He pointed at Finrod. “And if God loves him, how can we dare do anything less? If we call ourselves God’s children, then we’d best be acting like it. Love your enemies and you will find that you have none, only friends.”

The silence that followed that statement was complete. Josiah remained still for a brief moment and then straightened. “Hymn one-forty,” he said as he turned to walk back to his chair. The choir rose somewhat hastily and there was a great deal of scrambling about as people grabbed hymnbooks. The organ sounded and then people began singing an upbeat song, the choir clapping and swaying in rhythm:

“Holiness is faithfulness, holiness is joy. I am not bound for loneliness when I follow Christ my Lord. Alleluia!”

Finrod made to leave, no longer interested in staying. He felt emotionally and physically drained, as if he’d fought a great battle, and all he wanted to do was to return home. Marcus stayed him. “My dad would like to meet you. There’s coffee and donuts after the service. Please stay.”

“I am not sure I am up to dealing with any of you at the moment,” Finrod said.

“My mama makes the best coffeecake in the whole wide world,” the young Man said, as if he’d not heard a word Finrod was saying. “She’ll love to meet you, too.”

Finrod sighed, glancing toward where Josiah Makepeace was standing, singing along with everyone else. Somehow their eyes met and the Man smiled, giving him a nod. Finrod turned to Marcus and shrugged. “I will stay,” he said simply and the young Man beamed.

****

Words are Quenya:

Sérë asetyë, hinya. Hantanyet: ‘Peace be with thee, my child. I thank thee’ [familiar form, used in addressing children and social inferiors].