Holding a bristle brush in his right hand, Tim sat by the fire, and cleaned his boots. The corners of his mouth were turned downwards in depression as he scrubbed away while the flames that roared up, making shadows dance on the walls.
He saw a clump of mud and pine needles sticking to the ridges of the sole and this triggered an avalanche of memories. A gut wrenching fear churned his stomach when he thought about just how close he’d come to death the night before.
The snow-covered forest ghosted past his mind’s eyes and a shiver ran down his spine. His emotions swinging back and forth like a pendulum, Tim sat there. One minute, he felt elation at the thought that he was still alive, sitting in front of a fire, listening to the wind howling outside.
The next minute, he felt despair at the realisation that he -- and everyone else he knew -- would die sooner or later, as surely as the fire would burn down, leaving nothing but ashes behind. Yes, life, which had seemed so solid and real, was just a dream, after all, like the philosophers had said. Life was, in fact, a kind of nightmare on closer inspection.
Tim was sitting lost in these gloomy thoughts when he heard a creak. Cormac came in carrying some logs. He stamped his boots on the mat, then thrust out his elbow and sent the door flying shut behind him. He threw the logs down in a corner, then took off his hat, gloves and jacket.
“What a storm!” he said, smiling. “Did you ever see anything like that?”
He brushed away the snow flakes that stuck to his beard and eyebrows. His face glowed with health and his towering figure breathed robust energy from head to foot.
“We’ll be snowed in soon enough at this rate. We have enough supplies, mind you. Are you alright, Tim?” Cormac asked, glancing around.
“I’m fine,” muttered Tim.
Cormac took a few steps forward, and gave him an affectionate slap on the shoulder.
“You’ll need a few days of rest and then you’ll be as right as rain. You’ll see. Lucky, you didn’t get any frostbite. That’s a miracle! Just make sure you stay warm and eat plenty of food and you’ll be as fit as a fiddle in no time.”
“Sure, sure. I feel much better already,” muttered Tim, forcing himself to smile.
He picked up the stiff bristle brush again and scraped it back and forth across the toe of the boot, scouring away the dirt.
Cormac said and picked up some logs and threw them onto the fire. He rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. As if to please Cormac, the fire roared into spectacular life, filling the entire room with light and cosiness.
The cat, lying in a basket, opened her eyes and stretched out is paws and got up. She meandered closer to the fire and settled down, curling up on a blanket.
Cormac walked over to the stove. A fish soup was cooking over a fire.
“Looks like supper is almost ready. I’m ravenous,” he said.
“I bet! You've been out most of the day and in this weather!” Tim said as he rubbed the brush against the heel of his boots with short, jerky movements that generated a harsh, unpleasant sound. Then, he picked up a cloth and mechancially applied some polish to the dry leather and rubbed it in.
Cormac came up and handed Tim a steaming mug of tea.
“This’ll do you good,” he said.
“Thanks, said Tim.
He put down the boot and cloth and took the steaming mug in his trembling hands.
Cormac drew up a chair by the fire. He sat there, sipping the tea, gazing into the fire, peaceful and contented.
“Say, Cormac, don't you ever get lonely up here?“ Tim asked.
“Lonely?”
“No, I can’t say, I do. I don’t know but nature just has this soothing effect on me. I feel at home.”
“But...what do you do all day? I mean, I never see you around?”
“It’s no secret. I wander about here and there. I often go to a place on the other side of the mountain. There’s a stream there and a stand of old pines. That place has a lot of energy. I go there, open myself to that energy and then I try to reroute that energy so that it flows out into the world around me. I guess some people would call that praying.”
“That’s a new definition,” said Tim, laughing.
“Do you think it does any good? I mean rerouting this energy”
“Thought has incredible power.”
“It does?”
“Haven’t you ever read a book that really inspired you?”
“Of course, I have. I’ve read books that changed my whole life.”
“There you are. Books are born of thoughts, aren’t they? Someone has a thought, writes it down, and a book gets printed. Some one reads it. The thoughts of the author jump over into the reader’s brain and those thoughts can inspire a person, change their whole life.”
“You’re right!”
“Our thoughts, as a Hindu philosophers once said, travel faster than light. They through ether like electricity.”
“No kidding.”
“The electromagnetic spectrum includes not just the visible light but also gamma rays and x rays...”
“And it contains thought rays too, you’re saying?”
Cormac smiled.
“Exactly. Our thoughts affect objects in the same way as other form of energy does.”
“Explain that?”
"Look," said Cormac, lifting up his arm. "I had the thought about lifting up my arm and there is my arm moving."
"I guess so."
“In that case, there was a direct cause and effect. But thoughts can affect objects at long range."
"Oh?"
"Picture a rubber duck flaoting in a bath tub.”
Tim half closed his eyes.
“Okay, I can see a yellow rubber duck floating in a bath tub,” he said.
“Now imagine you put your hand into the bath tub. You wiggle it about in the water. What happens?”
“I’ll make waves.”
“Right. Those waves will spread out and reach the duck and then…”
“Then the duck will bob up and down on the waves…”
“And maybe even spin around and change its orientation. Now imagine there are several ducks in the bath tub!”
“Several? Getting crowded in that tub, heh.”
“We’re talking about sociable group of ducks. What happens when the waves strike all the ducks in the bathtub?”
“Easy question, Cormac! All the ducks will start moving, and cause more waves to be created. In fact, the bath tub could get pretty choppy.”
“Something similar happens when it comes to the waves of our thought. They move through the atmosphere, the ether, and they produce vibrations or waves that affect the minds of anyone who picks them up, just as their thoughts interact with ours. That means if we’re thinking good, peaceful, kind thoughts, people are going to pick those up those thoughts and become energised. Our thoughts will impact them just as the waves impact the rubber ducks. Our thoughts are faster than light and they can get to every part of it in a fraction of a second. That means that our every thought affects the whole world. In fact, you could say out thoughts are a bit like the sun that shines on everything, on trees and plants allowing them to flourish by sending out good energy, energy they can convert for growth. In the same way, our thoughts can shine on the whole world every minute of the day, and so stimulate good, inspiring thoughts in others.”
“Interesting idea.”
“Now imagine this. Imagine our minds are full of hatred and anger, envy and greed...”
“Then we also transmit those thoughts to others, right?”
“Right. Our negative vibes move through the ether just as fast.”
“That's true. I mean, you go to some places or some bars and you can pick up a bad vibe from the people just sitting there, if you know what I mean.”
“You see. We can pick up good and bad vibes. Right now they're a lot of bad vibes around, a lot of negative energy. We have to fight that by thinking good, clear, benevolent thoughts and so change the balance of energy.”
“So that’s what you do, is it, up here in the mountains, then? You think good thoughts.”
“And why not? What better way is there? Faced with all the problems today, the wars, the economic crisis, the threats to our free society, the poverty, injustice, the damage to the environment, we have to go back to square one. We have to find the energy to fight the evil. And that’s what Jesus Christ brought all those years ago. Christ’s teaching is powerful because he shows us the way to the source, to the mystery at the heart of creation. If we go and tap that source, and constantly replenish our soul with energy, we can find the energy, the inspiration, the life force we need to be happy and to live productive lives no matter how hard times get, no matter how desolate the state of society around us might be. We can be a part of the bigger intelligence that created the universe if we follow the spiritual path laid out by Christ. We can find fulfil our life purpose. The kingdom of God that is in you, in there, in your heart, your soul, your spirit,” said Cormac, thumping his chest.
“I wish, I wish,” muttered Tim. “I’ve often felt so down, so dead, so far from any God and also from other people.”
“Don't worry. Yes, inside you, Tim, is the endless energy, the pure energy and inspiration that comes from the heart of Creation. Allow it to bubble to the surface and flow through you and connect you with the mystery of the unvierse, and that energy will wash away your stagnation, depression, frustration and apathy. You’ll feel like new, re born. The greatness of people, the vitality of people is not to be found in their position or money but in their relationship to the truth inside them and around them, to the source inside them."
“I really wish I could find that source.”
“You can, Tim. Everyone can.”
“How?”
“All the great philosophers like Plato and leaders of the world’s religions have shown us the way to find the source within us, that spring of living water that never ends. So you just have to follow them."
"I've been a Pastor at a born again chruch for years and I never found the source."
"Maybe you were too busy? You need to give yourself enough space and time to spend with your own thoughts and get to know them."
“I’m afraid of what I’ll find if I look into my soul.”
“Don’t be. If you feel angry or sad, don’t repress those feelings. Don’t push them aside.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Have faith. Stay with your feelings, allow depression and sadness their place, accept them as natural, and look beyond them to find the source inside your, down there in the depths. The infinite richness of the kingdom of the spirit is inside you but right at the bottom of it all below all the waves and ruffle on the surface. When you find that source, that treasure, you’ll find bliss and knowledge, also knowledge of your true authentic self. That’s the amazing thing. You’ll find the glory, the power and the peace you’ve been looking for is in the world around you and also in yourself. You and the world are two sides of the same coin. Anyone who lives in tune with the essence of reality, with the order of the universe, finds everything easy. You won’t need drugs or drinks or other people to pick you up, any more. Who wants drugs or drink if they can get something much better? When you tap the source, you will be able to draw strength from something that will taste sweeter than wine and be nourishing than bread. It is the nectar that the mystics talk about. The illumination, the keys to the realm of never ending bliss."
“True, true.”
“If you can tap the source inside you, Tim, you can get close to heaven itself, close to the sky itself, to the sun, the light, the warmth that gives life to everything on earth. You will see how interesting, wonderful every single thing is: the water and the wind, the sun and moon, the taste of water, every blade of grass, the pure scent of the flowers, the wisdom and goodness in people. We come from God and we return to God when we die, like waves emerging out of ocean and then returning to the ocean. And in the space in between we have the opportunity for a great adventure, a great opportunity to learn, develop and grow and so accrue good karma that will affect our chances to experience eternal bliss in the afterlife. To be alive is a great privilege, a great opportunity! As long as we are alive, we have a chance to change secure a better place in the next world. We shouldn’t waste our time with trivial, banal or negative thoughts. That is to side with Satan.”
“Satan? Do you really believe he exists?”
“Jesus Christ says Satan is real. There is an evil energy in the universe that is real and dangerous to humans. It is now embedded in the social, economic and political systems of our world. It has got to the point where the whole world is facing total collapse because of the extent to which evil has taken hold. Everywhere are lies....”
“Like September 9/11!”
“Right! The amazing thing is that the evil is so widespread that no one has been brought to trial for this crime even today. The Senate and Congress, the CIA and FBI, the law enforcement are all corrupt."
"Say that again! And so are the churches! At least, my church was! Yes, it's hard to admit but my church was also one big fraud."
"People have to go make the journey to God on their own if necessary. By finding the source within us, we have the power to escape the snares of the world and of evil.”
“I sure wish I could find that source.”
“Everyone can like I said.”
“How?”
“There are many different spiritual practices that connect us to the source, to the energy, to the inspiration…”
“Such as?”
"Mine is called the Jesus Prayer.”
Tim frowned.
“You know, I’ve heard of that. I recall it’s some meditative prayer to do with the Russian Orthodox church.”
“Right. It’s a way of tapping the source within us that has been used successfully for centuries. The Jesus Prayer allows us to find the source inside us. Because it's an interior prayer, it lets us drink from the source all the time whatever our outward circumstances might be. It's suited to fighting stress and anxiety of all kinds because it quickly brings inner calmness and peace. It is a simple prayer but whoever repeats it can find an island of tranquillity, a rock within themselves, a freedom and lightness of heart that makes all our problems much easier to bear.”
“Sounds great! Sounds like Yoga!"
“It is in a way. The prayer connects us with the world of the spirit directly. That is the essence of Christ’s teaching. The sum of all virtues is not a mechanical obedience to the commandments or church doctrine but the élan vital, the inner connection to the spirit, to the energy of God, to the wisdom and intelligence of God that we can find through uniting our consciousness with Christ’s consciousness. The first commandment Christ gave us was to love God with all our heart and all our soul and to love our neighbours and love is dynamic force not a static moral commandment. The kingdom of God is in you, Christ said. We should worship the Father in spirit, and the spirit blows wherever it wants to, totally free like the wind. Freedom in this sense doesn’t mean laxity and depravity. On the contrary, ethical actions come much more naturally when we are accord with this source, this essence. When we live in harmony with this essence, we have a strong sense of rightness, an the intuitive sense that that’s how it should, a sense of being anchored safely in the heart of a great mystery that goes far beyond this life, a sense of being valued and at home. All our feelings of guilt, doubt, shame, failure, degradation, feelings of unworthiness are washed away. If we don't stick to basic ethic standards, we find our psyche ends up at war with itself. Pur energy is sapped away by internal battles. Anyway, we find it easy in this state of mind when we are in tune with the universe to be well intentioned towards others and to perform good, just actions. The universe's benevolent energy flows into us and we can allow benevolent energy to flow back into the world..."
“I’d love to learn that prayer.”
“You would?”
“Yes, I really would. It sounds just like what I need right now,” said Tim. “Can you teach me?”
“Sure, but what about our supper?”
Cormac got up, went to the stove, ladled some hot soup into a bowl.
He handed it to Tim together with a chunk of black bread.
Tim shook his head.
“Thanks, I’m not hungry. The tea is just fine.”
“Come on, just a bite,” Cormac said with a smile.
His eyes shone in the light of the fire.
“You need to get back your strength.”
Tim smiled.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’d better eat something.”
He put down the mug and took the bowl in his hands.
Cormac sat down on the other side of the fire and started to eat his soup.
Tim lifted up his spoon, but next tears welled up in his eyes. He heaved a sigh and put the bowl back down, his fingers trembling.
“Are you alright?” asked Cormac.
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry,” Tim said, embarrassed.
“What’s up?”
"I don't know what's the matter," he said.
More tears came to his eyes. He wiped them away from his red cheeks, tilting his head to hide his shame. What a weak muppet he was!
"I'm sorry to get so emotional, but I feel I have to talk to someone," he said, at last.
"Sure, sure," Cormac said, sympathetically.
He put his hand on Tim’s shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze of sympathy.
“Just get it off your chest. It always does people good to talk about their troubles.”
Tim hesitated, picked up a stick and poked the fire.
"I can't find the words to tell you how I feel. I feel such black, black emptiness like there's nothing inside me, nothing inside my soul.”
Cormac listened attentively, but said nothing.
"Last night…., “ Tim began, then stopped and bit his lips, which were quivering uncontrollably. How ridiculous his behaviour was! He felt so embarrassed and yet he felt he had to get what was burdening him off his chest or he would burst.
“Last night…,” he said, wiping away his tears and drawing a sharp breath. “…Well, I never expected to meet death like that. I mean, I've had a pretty average life, Cormac. I guess at the back of my mind I always expected to have an average death, too. Safe in my bed. Tucked up in my duvet. With all the lights in my house functioning. That kind of thing. I’ve never seen danger or been in the military or any organisation like that. Anyway, there I was last night in the forest. I could feel my last moments slipping through my fingers, and there was nothing I could do about it. That was when I realised what a small, thin and petty life I’ve had! Yes, how miserably and stupid my life has been! I haven’t really cared for anyone, not for my wife, not for my kids, not for my job, not even for myself. I’ve never served any ideal. I paid lip service but I never put my blood and sweat into those ideals. I’ve never made a real difference to this world. I’ve never had the courage to hit out and do anything on my own. I’ve always played it safe. I’ve gone through life like someone who is blind and deaf, not seeing, not hearing….”
Tim stopped, and poked the fire with his stick, then said.
“Last night when I thought I was about to die I realised how much I loved life,” he blurted out. “Isn't that typical? That you decide you actually goddamn love being alive when you're within minutes of freezing to death on a goddamn mountainside in the middle of goddamn nowhere? Only then, when it's nearly curtains, do you decide that life is actually something precious!
Isn't that goddamn typical! Yeah, you live fifty goddamn years and you don't give a toss about your life. In fact, you find it absolutely loathsome and full of bullshit and then five minutes before you are set to die, you think, o shit! I didn't make the most of that. You know? When it's too late. And then you die full of regret, full of this awful longing, this incredible desire to live all over again, to have a second chance, but this time to do it right, to follow a big dream, a big idea, to put your blood and sweat and tears into it. You know what I'm saying?"
“Sure I do,” Cormac cried.
"I was so afraid of dying with my soul in that state…well, I guess you'd have to call it, a state of utter darkness. I look back on my life now, and it all just seems so sordid, so ugly, such a constant jockeying for my own advantage. It seems so thin.
I had all these beliefs in God and goodness but they were all such abstract beliefs, second hand beliefs taken over from others. I had all these thoughts and plans but they were all just delusions and fantasies. I’ve always been driven by this feeling I don’t have enough, by this feeling of deficiency. I’ve always worked hard, trying to build up my empire. I was always ambitious. I wanted the biggest church, to be the most famous pastor. I always wanted more and more. I didn’t care who suffered. I made my wife and children suffer," Tim broke off, his lips trembling. "The truth is, I'm up here now because no one wants me because I was such a shabby sleaze. My own wife can't bear to be in the same room with me. All because I lied and deceived her.
Yeah….There might be such a thing as a glorious or a noble failure in life. I mean, there are heroic characters out there, who have big and noble goals in life, great qualities of courage and generosity, and who come to grief because of a fatal flaw that is heroic in its own way or because of tragic circumstances beyond their control. I'm thinking about Scott in the Antartic, for example, or a soldier fighting out in some hell hole in Iraq for his buddies. Geez, some people have guts and a sense of sacrifice even if governments misuse it and waste their blood needlessly so some executive can stuff his trousers with the profits. Blood money!
But me? I've always only batted for myself for all my pretense of serving a great cause. I’ve hidden my own egoism and vanity behind the church. My fate isn't even tragic because I am not noble enough for tragedy. My story is more the stuff of comedy. But I guess I ought to tell you the whole of it, huh?"
"If you want to, go ahead and tell me,” Cormac said, taking out his pipe and lighting it.
Tim's lips trembled as he shook his head.
"It's just so awful, so painful to tell you. I'm afraid you'll throw me out in disgust at such a mean-minded little story, and I don't know where else to go."
Cormac laughed, and slapped Tim affectionately on the back.
“What are you talking about?” he said. “And to think I used up half my supply of fire wood trying to rescue you last night! Mind you, you’re going to have to work to replace that wood, buster.”
Tim smiled.
“That’s the least I can do.”
“Indeed.”
Tim drew a sharp breath.
"Well, like I told you, Cormac, I was a pastor," he began, cautiously. "In fact, I was the senior pastor of a really successful, born again Christian church in Denver, an evangelical church with more than 70,000 members. Mine was a fundamentalist church, you know the kind that claim to base their teaching on the literal word of the Bible and also on inspiration from the Holy Ghost. It was financed by politicians and also got lots of contributions from the ADL and other Zionist organisations. I was the top dog, the decision maker, the big shot. In fact, I’d founded the church myself after I’d moved up here from the South. I’ve always had this hunger in me, this hunger driving me on, this hunger for more success, more recognition. It’s just always been there, a part of me. I’ve always felt this lack, this need like I said. It’s pushed me and pushed me all my life to get more money, more power, more fame, more followers.
Anyway, I know how to put on a performance. I turned my sermons into a big show. There was a band, music, lights. The whole shebang! I gave these really stirring sermons about good and evil, the importance of defending Israel, how awful the liberal left was. For a lot of people I was the genuine article, a living prophet! They saw me as a man inspired by God. They believed I could show them the way to God.
My church was big and prosperous and growing all the time; it was growing so fast we had to build a new complex. I found myself something of a celebrity. I knew all the influential people. I earned a fortune, too. My church had a revenue stream of about 100 million dollars. Tax free. A lot of it came from sponsorship like I said. Churches are a way of mind control. The people who rule our country, the shadow government, the bankers and the Israelis, see the use of having a church that makes Christians obedient and compliant. Anyway, I stood up and gave sermons every Sunday and told my congregation all about God and how they should live and what they should and should not do. I condemned homosexuality and infidelity in my sermons, and I praised Israel and the government. I was even part of a FEMA programme to get my congregation ready for martial law. I was supposed to tell them it was the best option."
"I bet! What a crime!"
"My congregation looked up to me. They saw me as a good man! In reality, I didn’t live up to the standards I was preaching like the rest of the church board. Anyway, the whole pack of cards fell in when everyone found out that I'd been visiting a male escort for two years and scoring meth. At first,…" Tim trembled. “I denied it all. I even went before the TV cameras to protest my innocence. I had only one thought in mind. I wanted to be spared the shame of being found out to be such a hypocrite, such a fraud! I guess it was my pride, my vanity! I didn't care about whether what I'd done was actually wrong or not, I just wanted to escape the punishment and the disgrace.
I just wanted to be the big shot like before, the idol! In my own mind, I half excused myself for going to see Rob Owen. To see him was a craving. It was like a drug. When I wasn't with Owen, I felt so flat, so down. At the time, I thought what I felt for this man was genuine love, but looking back I realise it was just a projection, an unhealthy fixation, a diversion from my real problems. If it had been real love, I would have tried to help him, wouldn’t I? I didn’t. He was broke and living from hand to mouth. He told me he didn't like his job, you know, as an escort. He had a boyfriend who was a vet and had all kinds of psychological problems as a result and no help from the government, no place even to live. But I just did what I wanted with his body for an hour, paid him some cash for my thrills, then went back to my life like nothing had happened. Well, the elections were coming up, and the issue of legalising gay marriage was on the table, and this gay escort, Rob Owen, went on radio and told the world about what I had been doing and how I was the last person who should be condemning gay sex and gay marriage. He was only pointing out a flaw I really did have and what a hypocrite I was. I wanted so much to be a hero-idol, an honest guy, a brave guy who everyone looks up to and admires. I felt such a failure inside. I have always loathed myself. I lacerated myself with my own thoughts about myself. I was screaming out for help but if anyone actually came to help me, I was terrified and ran back into my hole. I was afraid of being with others and even more afraid of being on my own. I was a mess. I guess it was an insecurity that has been with me from my childhood. My father was a really respected man. I really admired him too. He was a doctor and everyone looked up to him in the small town I grew up in Kansas. He was also a prominent member of the local church. He was a strict, but practical, no nonsense kind of man, who was always out helping sick people. He gave his services for free. If he was called out of his bed in the dead of night, he went. He had high standards. He expected his kids to measure up. If things didn’t go just as he planned it, he would fly into a rage. I was the eldest and I guess I always felt that whatever I did wasn’t quite good enough for him. It seemed to me that there was always disappointment in his eyes whenever he looked at me. He seemed up there, like a god, perfect to me, and I was down there, unworthy of his attention, unable to measure up. The only time he noticed me was if I came first in the class or something. That gave me such a thrill. I would go around basking in the glow for days if he said a word of praise to me. Boy, did that seem good! I longed for that approval and so I channelled all my efforts in getting better and better grades just to get a word of praise. But those words were few and far between. Most of the time I felt not good enough for him. He was always busy with more interesting, worthwhile things or so it seemed to me. He used to work 12 to 14 hours a day in his practice and had night duty and all that. My mother was a quiet kind of woman, gentle in her own way, not given to big emotions, more practial than anything else, and very concerned about her appearance. She was always out at the hairdressers or the beauty salon or with her friends or attending social events, and didn't have much time. She was very ambitious too. Everything had to be perfect. Her kids had to be better than the neighbours. That kind of thing.”
Tim picked up a stick and poked it into the logs with depression and anxiety.
“Even as a kid I felt so down. I always felt so depressed, so unnecessary somehow, so superfluous. My greatest fear all my life has been other people turning away from me, abandoning me, I guess. I fear people just ignoring me, not noticing me more than anything else in the world. I soon realised that everyone would admire me and notice me if I was good at sports, got good grades, was popular with my peers and went to our local church. Anyone who had psychological problems or was depressed was considered a looser. And so I tried to live up to that ideal. I worked hard at school and I got good grades in all my subjects. I became the best in sports in our class. I did everything to be popular. I always wore the latest, most fashionable clothes, had the latest, coolest gadgets, and was cheerful. I saved up and got myself a Ford when I was 18. I went out to the cool bars. I was aware even then that I loved men more, but I hoped it was a phase that would pass. I was ashamed of what I saw to be filthy feelings. Eveyone in the town including my parents considered gays to be like perverts and diseased and I didn’t want to be classified as one of those!”
Cormac shook his head, sadly.
“That’s a crying shame,” he said.
“Yes. I went into denial, I guess. I wanted to be the good guy, the clean living guy, the all American hero and tough guy. So I just suppressed any emotions or desires that didn’t fit in with that ideal. I denied my feelings for other men. I figure I denied too many of feelings because I became mumb somehow. Other people didn’t really touch me on some level. I’d buried my desires for other men but also a big part of my psyche. I threw myself into my role, did everything to be successful, get noticed. I started dating girls in my high school because everyone else was dating and I wanted to be just like everyone else. I guess that is what they mean by the American dream – to be like everyone else, right? I guess that is the American ideal – to have the same house, the same car, the same short hair, the same uniform and stand in front of the same flag with your hand in the same place with a good looking spouse beside you singing the same words as everyone else, right? The American dream is the dream of a bunch of sheep, isn’t it? Where’s the rugged individualism left? You’re called successful if your car is a little bigger, your hair cut a little shorter and your uniform has two strips instead of one and you earn 200,000 dollars instead of 100,000, right? If you leave that path altogether to say log wood in Alaska, you’re a total failure, even if you live a more natural, healthier and better life. That is the American ideal! A fully functioning clone or tool in the big machinery of government or corporation or the army controlled by the New World Order behind the scenes. A loyal and obedient servant who does what those in control want without asking any questions – even if it’s wrong. That’s what you get rewarded for in our country! Mindless conformity! Banal materialism! The idol that’s worshipped is the golden calf! Money is all that counts. Money and power and belonging to the elite. Anyway, I graduated from high school top of my class. I saw some of my class mates heading off to exciting new lives, to colleges on the west coast, enrolling at West Point or Annapolis, breaking out of small town life. I wanted new horizons, too. I wanted to study at liberal arts college on the east coast, but my father refused to help me even though he could easily have afforded the fees. He wanted me to study medicine like him. That was all he was willing support. I didn’t want to be a doctor like him in a small town. For the first time in my life, I dared to challenge him. There was a huge row. I left home and went to Houston with my savings. I dreamed of a fresh start, a new life.
I didn’t have much money and I got a job in an oil company to keep myself going. I got caught up in the money thing, the career thing. I had all these dreams about becoming a successful manager, having a life full of glamour, making important decisions, a Porsche car, a villa and travelling the world and all that. I’ve always been really good at maths and I was given a job crunching statistics and the pay was good. I started to save up and applied for a place at an Ivy League college and got accepted for the following Fall. It was then that I realised that Man cannot live from bread alone. Like everyone else in the company, I had to sit all day in front of a computer, in a cubicle, doing some mindless thing. At first, it was new and interesting. But after about six months, I began to hate the place. My spirit was so hungry, so hungry for happiness and for affection, for contact with other people that was more than few words exchanged at the office. I was so thirsty for some meaning, for some bigger purpose to my life than calculating some chart. I got so lonely that I went to the local born again Christian Church a block away from where I lived in a poor part of town. I went because I had nothing else to do on a Sunday and I just hated staying in my hole of a home. I’d rented a really cheap apartment to save money. There wasn’t any place I could really go to kill a few hours in my neighbourhood either. It was a run down and pretty dangerous place at that. I took to wearing sneakers all the time, just to make sure I could run fast enough if any of them chased me. Anyway, the church seemed the best way of doing something without getting into trouble. I liked it. During the service, there was singing and emotion, happiness and sadness, people holding hands together and clapping, and the warm and generous atmosphere.
I was so grateful to those people for lifting up my spirits. The preacher got up on the stage and talked about the love of God and how important we are to Him, and how God had a great plan for all our lives. I loved that message. I loved to think that there was a God who had a big dream for me too. I loved to think there was a bigger purpose to my life. I left and I felt ten feet tall. I decided I wanted to be a pastor. Anyway, I swallowed my pride and went back home to my father. It so happened that Billy Bright was giving the service at our local church. Hearing him was like a revelation to me. The Lutheran church I went to when I was growing up in rural Kansas was so sober, so uptight, so formal. I liked the way Billy Bright gave such a passionate speech. I liked the way he created so much emotion in his audience. I liked the way he talked about the Holy Spirit and its grace. I decided I wanted to join his church. I wanted to be like him one day, up there on the stage, adored by the crowds, a man of God! Above it all! My father was pleased with my choice. A pastor was the second best thing to a doctor in his eyes. At least, it was respectable. Anyway, I went to Tennesee and studied at Bible college. When I graduated, I became a pastor of a born again Christian church in a dirt poor town.
It wasn’t hard for me to make a splash. Most people were farmers, decent enough people but with little or no education, who had only one way out of poverty, and that was the military. To them, I seemed like a man from the big world. I was up there on a pedestal with my college education. I loved it.
Looking back, I realise most of the people felt lonely and alienated from a society where to get any kind of respect you had to be good looking, have gone to an ivy league university, have rich parents and also a glamorous job, and all that. Most of them were living paycheck to paycheck. Lots of the boys had only one dream of getting into the army, rising through the ranks and becoming a hero. The army and sports was the only way out. That and the church offered and escape for people who found that reality was turning sour. Back then, I thought it couldn’t get worse. But if you look at the state of America today with the poverty and the foreclosures and the tent cities, and the fiasco that is the war in Iraq and huge budget deficit, then you have to say it is really getting worse and worse,” Tim said and prodded the fire, thoughtfully.
“America has become so cut throat. It’s all about money and corruption. You are what you earn. You are the sum of your possessions; your houses, SUVs, stocks and shares. To get that, you really have to sell your soul. The more corrupt, the better. It’s depressing! Geez, I remember when I was a boy, America seemed like a fairytale land, so rich and plentiful and also quite fair. I remember my parents never even locked the door of their house in our town. There was no crime. Everyone seemed to have enough money for good life style and also plenty of time on their hands for their family and friends and hobbies. There were still plenty of well paid jobs at the local factories even for people without a college education. But then, there was the oil shock and times changed and most of the factories closed down. It was the same story in Wichitakee where I had my first church. The factory and the shops had shut up because of the wave of outsourcing that sent so many well paid jobs abroard. The banks wanted that, of course. They wanted to drive people into debt. They make money on the interest if people haven't got good salaries. They need to take out bigger loans for mortgages, education, everything! And if they don't pay, the banks foreclose on the home. A great deal for them. I know one banker who admitted they pushed for legislation to get those jobs out of America to get people into debt.
Christian Fundamentalist churches are just financed by these same corporate groups to distract from the social breakdown that comes with this kind of turbon capitalism, high taxes for the poor and constant wars that profit the rich. Jesus Christ talks about our duty to help the poor. Churches like men never did. Poverty was never discussed. It was all marginal issues like abortion. Our church was very conservative, very much in line with the neo cons when it came to economics. Tax cuts, deregulation were held up. Patriotism, enrolling in the military, was encouraged. No one ever criticised the war in Afghanistan or Iraq. To ask questions about 9/11 was to be a pot-smoking liberal! That's the way it was! Everyone was supposed to get behind Israel! Christianity was equated with Zionism. For that we were liberally funded by lots of Jewish organisations. This guy from AIPAC turned up, and made it clear we'd be rewarded for loyalty. And we were. They pushed through a special earmark for us to get funds to build our new complex. The Jewish lobby more or less controls the US government, the media and the banks. Just look at the President's team! If you don't go along with it, they call you anti Semitic.
Anyway, there were lots of unemployment and crime and problems in the families, divorce, drugs and drinking in my first post. It wasn’t all plain sailing being the pastor there I can tell you. It was socially conservative, tight knit kind of place where everyone believed in the flag, in America. Gays and blacks were not welcome. But I was accepted because I was white and married, and had a relatively good salary. I soon learned people came to church because they want to escape from life. Those who have a guilty conscience go to church so they can escape their guilt. Others just want some excitement in their dreary lives.”
“That’s a shame,” said Cormac, thoughtfully stroking his beard. “I’m sure they didn’t all go to church just to escape. I’m sure some people were really looking for something, for God.”
“Maybe. You know I remember there was a guy called Norm Tennent and he was kind of typical. He’d lost his job when he was about 50; I forget what it was, a quality controller or something at a factory that had been closed down so that the production could be moved to Taiwan or some other place where the labour was cheaper. Anyway, he had a family of four kids, and he’d found a job at the local supermarket where he earned about 6 bucks an hour stacking shelves when I got to know him. His wife was sick, but they had no money for the doctor. Going to the church was the highlight of the week for Norm. He could go into a hall with the bright banners and music and a party atmosphere; hear a stirring speech by the preacher about God and how important he was in God’s eyes; feel proud about being a member of an evangelical Christian church and a true American again; and then go and have a beer and a barbecue down at the river and socialse. It all made him feel good about himself. He could stand tall because though he was a loser without a cent, he was a Christian and an American and God was on his side!”
“I think your church sounds okay.”
“Sure, we did some good work. People like Norm knew that if he was in sick or ill, he could depend on the congregation to help him out. That was something important for a guy like him without any way of paying the doctor’s bills. I don’t know if he believed in God any more than I did, though, to be honest.”
“Really?”
“I’m not sure. Sometimes when the music was playing and the crowds were clapping, I remember he would get so emotional. Tears would come into his eyes.”
“Maybe he did believe?”
“I’m not sure. I remember one night I was driving home, and I saw Norm and a bunch of his friends beating up this black guy. It was sickening to see these six guys beating up one man. They were kicking him in the head. It was just brutal! Just unbelievable! I was so shocked. Anyway, I stopped and got out of my car and I went up to Norm and tried to stop them but I saw so much hatred in his face that I was afraid he would turn on me if I didn’t the hell out of there. I couldn’t reason with him. The gusys said the black man had been caught red-handed stealing from the kitchen. Did that justify being beaten to a pulp? I was sickened”
“I bet!”
“After that incident, I decided to quit that town. I dreamed of a bigger church in a more sophisticated place. I decided I on Colorado and figured out that the best way of getting what I wanted was if I founded my own church. The church board, you see, didn’t want me to go to Colorado, but I told them I’d had a vision. So, they finally had to agree. My church grew really fast thanks to the amount of support I got from all these groups like the ADL. Like I said, I realised that the key to success was giving people what they wanted and plenty of entertainment and positive emotion. I realised that people came to church to get away from the stress and pressures and disappointments of their life. They wanted a safe, friendly, clean-living environment where they could meet others, too. They wanted a leader who made them feel good about themselves by saying they are God’s loved ones. They wanted someone who relieve them of the burden of thinking for themselves. They want someone who clears up all the confusion and anxiety and explains the world in simple, black and white terms.
My church grew and grew. I had an average attendace of ten thousand people on Sunday; a church board was appointed and I became a part of a big structure that was modelled on a corporation and that was focussed on generating revenues. The church became a business, I guess. The commercialisation of religion is a part of a bigger trend in society to turn everything into a business and make a profit, I guess. That meant, control over every member of the church and what they did, what they cost and what they brought in in dollar terms. Every aspect of the church life from the Bible sessions to the sermons was distilled into numbers, and calculations and ways to maximise profits were calculated. Loyalty was elevated to the highest virtue. What members should and should not believe in was clearly specified in prayer plans and Bible study plans that taught the principles of obedience to a hierarcby. The focus was on organised group activities rather than individual spiritual guidance. A corporate sense of identity was created, I guess, a church brand.
People were made to feel proud of belonging to an “elite” church, and encouraged to give as much of their money as they could. In fact, the size of their donation was equated with their virtue. There was a clear hierarchy and very authoritarian style of leadership. The pastor laid down the law and everyone else had to follow. To ask questions was to be one of Satan's children, subverting the church. The passages from Paul's Epistles were all cherry picked to instill obedience in the congregation.
As the senior pastor, I was at the top. I was equated with God himself, in fact. My word was law. Below me came the pastors and next in rank came the lay group leaders, who were in charge of running smaller groups. Women were considered far inferior to men. No woman was allowed to be pastor. It was your position in the church hierarchy that decided how much of a Christian you were, not your real conduct or faith, in my church. I swear, if Jesus Christ himself, full of love, light and tenderness, had joined our church, He would have been put at the bottom of the heap and treated as an ignorant nobody. And if He hadn’t shaped up and attended all the bible sessions and bleated out the church line, he would have been thrown out! There was no tolerance of anyone who questioned the official line, the pastor or the way the church was run, like I said. Anyone who raised questions about the church organisation and its priorities was accused of trying to lead God’s children astray, as I mentioned. Yes, there was a real fear in our church, a real fear of doing something that would incur the wrath of the pastor, that is, to say of God himself. Funnily enough, I was afraid too of the monster I’d created. I was afraid of the other pastors below me. I knew how ambitious and competitive they were. Everyone was always watching what the other guy did and making sure that he didn’t miss out on an opportunity or a promotion.”
“Sounds familiar!”
“I was afraid they would turn on me if I revealed I was gay, and use it as an excuse to throw me out of the church altogether to take my job. By that time, I had a great salary and standard of living! The church was my ticket into the places I’d never have gotten to see otherwise. I met the president and hobnobbed with senators and celebrities. What a high that was! Loneliness and poverty had brought me to the church, and fear of more loneliness and poverty kept me there even when I began to realise that I was suffocating under all the expectations and pressures coming from every side. Building up my church took up so much energy. After about tens years, I was burned out, stressed, but I didn’t dare to step back because I was afraid of losing my power and influence. Inside I was withering away. I was getting more and more desperate. I started to look for a thrill, a kick, for something to make me feel alive again. I was looking for love, too, I guess. The only love that came really naturally to me was the love I felt for other men. I started to crave that strong sense of love, the company of other men. I started to cruise around Denver looking to meet other men in secret. I came across this guy called Rob Owen in a bar. He was a male prostitute. I liked the look of him. After a while, I quit the other men and visited only him. I became addicted to him. It was like a drug. I saw him and I had such a thrill. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself. I kept it all secret. I thought I could have my bread buttered on both sides. I thought I could pretend to be preacher dedicated to God while had all the time visiting this man. I was afraid of telling the truth. The church was the only family I knew. I knew the vilification of anyone who was gay or had an abortion or who didn’t vote for the Republicans was wrong. I knew that had nothing to do with the teachings of Christ. That was just social control, a power game to make sure the troops lined up like the pastor wanted. But I figured playing along with it was a small price to pay to belong to such a big family. I figured the overall purpose was good, so why bother about the little details. I figured I was something special, a cut above the rest, and I could cut myself some slack when it came to following the rules.”
“So what happened?”
“Everyone found out about my visits to this guy in Denver and about how I took meth. Rob Owen shopped me. The church board sent me up here to the mountains to reform my character. Now, I have to accept I'm almost fifty, and I've made all the wrong choices in my life. I’ve shirked the responsibility. I just followed the herd. I wanted power and money and sex and I just hid in the church and hid in religion to avoid seeing what a vile man I had become. I lied to myself. I deluded myself.
It's been fifty useless years. Fifty years on a downer. Worse, I've hurt other people. I betrayed them. I pretended to know God, but I hadn’t a clue. I failed everyone who trusted me and mattered to me. I made them suffer. I hurt them. I made them doubt in themselves. I made them lose faith in life and in other people. I probably made them lose faith in God! Now it's too late. What's done is done. I have to face my squalid and deluded life.”
"Ahh!” said Cormac, puffing on his pipe. “What on earth are you talking about? It’s never too late! If you ask me, you should thank God that it came to such a crisis, and thank Rob Owen, too, for telling the truth. If he hadn't, you might never have woken up and seen the way things stood with you and your life. That is to say, you would have continued suffering like you did before and you would have continued to make others suffer, and you would have lived the whole of your life in misery and darkness. Luckily, fate intervened! Now you have the chance to make a great leap forward and find real happiness and also genuine love and truth.”
“Think so?”
“Of course! Sometimes we have to reach the bottom before we are willing to make the effort to really change.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“As for the church you’re describing, it sounds like the Taliban! Talk about intolerance! Seems like your church has created an environment which is so intolerant that people are in denial about their true feelings, thoughts and failings, whatever they might be. I don’t think that’s healthy. First, you have to look at your failings honestly before you can move on. No one ever became perfect by denying their desire for power, money or their lust, only by facing them, accepting them and seeing they are not the way to true fulfilment and happiness.”
“Yes, yes,” muttered Tim.”I was in denial, alright. I was always pointing our fingers at others. It was always other people who were evil. It was other people in other churches, in other countries, who were wicked, dangerous, violent. It was the Arabs, the Chinese, the Russians, the Socialists, the Communists, the Feminists! It was always someone else who was in the wrong and who had to be eliminated or destroyed for goodness to reign here on earth. There was always some good reason why we had a special right to the truth and why we had the right to acquire more power and money and start wars and kill others. We were always the good guys no matter what we did in our own eyes. And now it’s too late. I’ve lived the best years of my life in the wrong way. I’ve been busy pointing my finger at everyone else instead of making an effort to find out who I was and overcome my own selfishness and lust and love of power. What a waste! What a shame! It’s too late now. It’s water under the bridge.”
"Stop talking like that, Tim! It's never too late! Never! You shouldn’t waste any time on regrets about the past. Look to the future.”
Tim lowered his head.
"What future...…"
"As long as we want to change our lives, we can. God is merciful and forgiving. His love and mercy is all around us. It is manifested in the beauty of nature for one thing, in the beauty of children and of people for another. If we make an effort to find him, God is always there. Just think of Bartimaeus, the blind begger who asked Jesus Christ to give him back his sight. Instantly, his request brought a response. Christ healed him. That is the law of the spiritual world. A sincere desire for spiritual awakening always brings a spiritual impulse from the other world to help us on our way. God loves us and wants us to find the way to truth and contentment. That was why he sent his only Son, that is to say, a guide who could really help us because he was able to empathise with us. The trouble is we're often only too happy with the status quo. However miserable we might feel, at least we know that misery, and the familiar is always comforting in its own way. New things, even good new things, can be frightening. We prefer to be blind than to have our sight. We prefer to sit like Bartimeaus in the oasis of Jericho rattling our tin asking for money and power and lust to making the effort of getting up on our own two feet, standing up straight on our own ground, casting aside our old habits and clothes and opening our eyes to the palms, the water, the sky, the people. To see the bigger world is to be humbled. How many of us want to be humbled?”
“I really would love to change my life, Cormac. I’d love to start all over afresh, turn a new page. I just don’t know how. I feel like there’s a desert inside me. I’m all dried up and withered."
“You just have to change you way of thinking, Tim!”
"I'm just not so sure it's that simple. I mean I'm a real egotist. Yes, a 100 per cent egotist. That's me. Egotist supreme! The king of the egotists! My thoughts are 99.9 per cent about me and how I feel and what I want. All I care about is me, me, me, me! I just don't see how I can free myself of me, right?"
Cormac smiled.
“Of course you can. Life is all about change. No human being is static. Existence means change, constant change, growth or decay, but always change.“
"Ah Cormac! You mean well, but you've obviously got no idea how low a human being can get. You’ve always been a good man, not like me!”
Cormac stroked his beard, thoughtfully.
“Ahh! If you only knew my story then you wouldn’t say that I’ve been good!” he said, fell silent and sat and stared glumly into the flames.
“What do you mean?” asked Tim, amazed.
"i'll tell you..."
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