Wise Blood

by Flannery O'Connor

  Nothing was working the way Haze had expected it to. He had spent every evening preaching, but the membership of the Church Without Christ was still only one person: himself. He had wanted to have a large following quickly to impress the blind man with his powers, but no one had followed him. There had been a sort of follower but that had been a mistake. That had been a boy about sixteen years old who had wanted someone to go to a whorehouse with him because he had never been to one before. He knew where the place was but he didn’t want to go without a person of experience, and when he heard Haze, he hung around until he stopped preaching and then asked him to go. But it was all a mistake because after they had gone and got out again and Haze had asked him to be a member of the Church Without Christ, or more than that, a disciple, an apostle, the boy said he was sorry but he couldn’t be a member of that church because he was a Lapsed Catholic. He said that what they had just done was a mortal sin, and that should they die unrepentant of it they would suffer eternal punishment and never see God. Haze had not enjoyed the whorehouse anywhere near as much as the boy had and he had wasted half his evening. He shouted that there was no such thing as sin or judgment, but the boy only shook his head and asked him if he would like to go again the next night.

  If Haze had believed in praying, he would have prayed for a disciple, but as it was all he could do was worry about it a lot. Then two nights after the boy, the disciple appeared.

  That night he preached outside of four different picture shows and every time he looked up, he saw the same big face smiling at him. The man was plumpish, and he had curly blond hair that was cut with showy sideburns. He wore a black suit with a silver stripe in it and a wide-brimmed white hat pushed onto the back of his head, and he had on tight-fitting black pointed shoes and no socks. He looked like an ex-preacher turned cowboy, or an ex-cowboy turned mortician. He was not handsome but under his smile, there was an honest look that fitted into his face like a set of false teeth.

  Every time Haze looked at him, the man winked.

  At the last picture show he preached in front of, there were three people listening to him besides the man. “Do you people care anything about the truth?” he asked. “The only way to the truth is through blasphemy, but do you care? Are you going to pay any attention to what I’ve been saying or are you just going to walk off like everybody else?”

  There were two men and a woman with a cat-faced baby sprawled over her shoulder. She had been looking at Haze as if he were in a booth at the fair. “Well, come on,” she said, “he’s finished. We got to be going.” She turned away and the two men fell in behind her.

  “Go ahead and go,” Haze said, “but remember that the truth don’t lurk around every street corner.”

  The man who had been following reached up quickly and pulled Haze’s pantsleg and gave him a wink. “Come on back heah, you folks,” he said. “I want to tell you all about me.”

  The woman turned around again and he smiled at her as if he had been struck all along with her good looks. She had a square red face and her hair was freshly set. “I wisht I had my gittarr here,” the man said, “’cause I just somehow can say sweet things to music bettern plain. And when you talk about Jesus you need a little music, don’t you, friends?” He looked at the two men as if he were appealing to the good judgment that was impressed on their faces. They had on brown felt hats and black town suits, and they looked like older and younger brother. “Listen, friends,” the disciple said confidentially, “two months ago before I met the Prophet here, you wouldn’t know me for the same man. I didn’t have a friend in the world. Do you know what it’s like not to have a friend in the world?”

  “It ain’t no worsen havinum that would put a knife in your back when you wasn’t looking,” the older man said, barely parting his lips.

  “Friend, you said a mouthful when you said that,” the man said. “If we had time, I would have you repeat that just so ever’body could hear it like I did.” The picture show was over and more people were coming up. “Friends,” the man said, “I know you’re all interested in the Prophet here,” pointing to Haze on the nose of the car, “and if you’ll just give me time I’m going to tell you what him and his idears’ve done for me. Don’t crowd because I’m willing to stay here all night and tell you if it takes that long.”

  Haze stood where he was, motionless, with his head slightly forward, as if he weren’t sure what he was hearing.

  “Friends,” the man said, “lemme innerduce myself. My name is Onnie Jay Holy and I’m telling it to you so you can check up and see I don’t tell you any lie. I’m a preacher and I don’t mind who knows it but I wouldn’t have you believe nothing you can’t feel in your own hearts. You people coming up on the edge push right on up in here where you can hear good,” he said. “I’m not selling a thing, I’m giving something away!” A considerable number of people had stopped.

  “Friends,” he said, “two months ago you wouldn’t know me for the same man. I didn’t have a friend in the world. Do you know what it’s like not to have a friend in the world?”

  A loud voice said, “It ain’t no worsen havinum that would put…”

  “Why, friends,” Onnie Jay Holy said, “not to have a friend in the world is just about the most miserable and lonesome thing that can happen to a man or woman! And that’s the way it was with me. I was ready to hang myself or to despair completely. Not even my own dear old mother loved me, and it wasn’t because I wasn’t sweet inside, it was because I never known how to make the natural sweetness inside me show. Every person that comes onto this earth,” he said, stretching out his arms, “is born sweet and full of love. A little child loves ever’body, friends, and its nature is sweetness—until something happens. Something happens, friends, I don’t need to tell people like you that can think for theirselves. As that little child gets bigger, its sweetness don’t show so much, cares and troubles come to perplext it, and all its sweetness is driven inside it. Then it gets miserable and lonesome and sick, friends. It says, ‘Where is all my sweetness gone? where are all the friends that loved me?’ and all the time, that little beat-up rose of its sweetness is inside, not a petal dropped, and on the outside is just a mean lonesomeness. It may want to take its own life or yours or mine, or to despair completely, friends.” He said it in a sad nasal voice but he was smiling all the time so that they could tell he had been through what he was talking about and come out on top. “That was the way it was with me, friends. I know what of I speak,” he said, and folded his hands in front of him. “But all the time that I was ready to hang myself or to despair completely, I was sweet inside, like ever’body else, and I only needed something to bring it out. I only needed a little help, friends.

  “Then I met this Prophet here,” he said, pointing at Haze on the nose of the car. “That was two months ago, folks, that I heard how he was out to help me, how he was preaching the Church of Christ Without Christ, the church that was going to get a new jesus to help me bring my sweet nature into the open where ever’body could enjoy it. That was two months ago, friends, and now you wouldn’t know me for the same man. I love ever’one of you people and I want you to listen to him and me and join our church, the Holy Church of Christ Without Christ, the new church with the new jesus, and then you’ll all be helped like me!”

  Haze leaned forward. “This man is not true,” he said. “I never saw him before tonight. I wasn’t preaching this church two months ago and the name of it ain’t the Holy Church of Christ Without Christ!”

  The man ignored this and so did the people. There were ten or twelve gathered around. “Friends,” Onnie Jay Holy said, “I’m mighty glad you’re seeing me now instead of two months ago because then I couldn’t have testified to this new church and this Prophet here. If I had my gittarr with me I could say all this better but I’ll just have to do the best I can by myself.” He had a winning smile and it was evident that he didn’t think he was any better than anybody else even though he was.

  “Now I just w
ant to give you folks a few reasons why you can trust this church,” he said. “In the first place, friends, you can rely on it that it’s nothing foreign connected with it. You don’t have to believe nothing you don’t understand and approve of. If you don’t understand it, it ain’t true, and that’s all there is to it. No jokers in the deck, friends.”

  Haze leaned forward. “Blasphemy is the way to the truth,” he said, “and there’s no other way whether you understand it or not!”

  “Now, friends,” Onnie Jay said, “I want to tell you a second reason why you can absolutely trust this church—it’s based on the Bible. Yes sir! It’s based on your own personal interpitation of the Bible, friends. You can sit at home and interpit your own Bible however you feel in your heart it ought to be interpited. That’s right,” he said, “just the way Jesus would have done it. Gee, I wisht I had my gittarr here,” he complained.

  “This man is a liar,” Haze said. “I never saw him before tonight. I never…”

  “That ought to be enough reasons, friends,” Onnie Jay Holy said, “but I’m going to tell you one more, just to show I can. This church is up-to-date! When you’re in this church you can know that there’s nothing or nobody ahead of you, nobody knows nothing you don’t know, all the cards are on the table, friends, and that’s a fack!”

  Haze’s face under the white hat began to take on a look of fierceness. Just as he was about to open his mouth again, Onnie Jay Holy pointed in astonishment to the baby in the blue bonnet who was sprawled limp over the woman’s shoulder. “Why yonder is a little babe,” he said, “a little bundle of helpless sweetness. Why, I know you people aren’t going to let that little thing grow up and have all his sweetness pushed inside him when it could be on the outside to win friends and make him loved. That’s why I want ever’ one of you people to join the Holy Church of Christ Without Christ. It’ll cost you each a dollar but what is a dollar? A few dimes! Not too much to pay to unlock that little rose of sweetness inside you!”

  “Listen!” Haze shouted. “It don’t cost you any money to know the truth! You can’t know it for money!”

  “You hear what the Prophet says, friends,” Onnie Jay Holy said, “a dollar is not too much to pay. No amount of money is too much to learn the truth! Now I want each of you people that are going to take advantage of this church to sign on this little pad I have in my pocket here and give me your dollar personally and let me shake your hand!”

  Haze slid down from the nose of his car and got in it and slammed his foot on the starter.

  “Hey wait! Wait!” Onnie Jay Holy shouted, “I ain’t got any of these friends’ names yet!”

  The Essex had a tendency to develop a tic by nightfall. It would go forward about six inches and then back about four; it did that now a succession of times rapidly; otherwise Haze would have shot off in it and been gone. He had to grip the steering wheel with both hands to keep from being thrown either out the windshield or into the back. It stopped this after a few seconds and slid about twenty feet and then began it again.

  Onnie Jay Holy’s face showed a great strain; he put his hand to the side of it as if the only way he could keep his smile on was to hold it. “I got to go now, friends,” he said quickly, “but I’ll be at this same spot tomorrow night, I got to go catch the Prophet now,” and he ran off just as the Essex began to slide again. He wouldn’t have caught it, except that it stopped before it had gone ten feet farther. He jumped on the running board and got the door open and plumped in, panting, beside Haze. “Friend,” he said, “we just lost ten dollars. What you in such a hurry for?” His face showed that he was in some kind of genuine pain even though he looked at Haze with a smile that revealed all his upper teeth and the tops of his lowers.

  Haze turned his head and looked at him long enough to see the smile before it was thrown forward at the windshield. After that the Essex began running smoothly. Onnie Jay took out a lavender handkerchief and held it in front of his mouth for some time. When he removed it, the smile was back on his face. “Friend,” he said, “you and me have to get together on this thing. I said when I first heard you open your mouth, ‘Why, yonder is a great man with great idears.’ “

  Haze didn’t turn his head.

  Onnie Jay took in a long breath. “Why, do you know who you put me in mind of when I first saw you?” he asked. After a minute of waiting, he said in a soft voice, “Jesus Christ and Abraham Lincoln, friend.”

  Haze’s face was suddenly swamped with outrage. All the expression on it was obliterated. “You ain’t true,” he said in a barely audible voice.

  “Friend, how can you say that?” Onnie Jay said. “Why I was on the radio for three years with a program that give real religious experiences to the whole family. Didn’t you ever listen to it—called, Soulsease, a quarter hour of Mood, Melody, and Mentality? I’m a real preacher, friend.”

  Haze stopped the Essex. “You get out,” he said.

  “Why friend!” Onnie Jay said. “You ought not to say such a thing! That’s the absolute truth that I’m a preacher and a radio star.”

  “Get out,” Haze said, reaching across and opening the door for him.

  “I never thought you would treat a friend thisaway,” Onnie Jay said. “All I wanted to ast you about was this new jesus.”

  “Get out,” Haze said, and began to push him toward the door. He pushed him to the edge of the seat and gave him a shove and Onnie Jay fell out the door and into the road.

  “I never thought a friend would treat me thisaway,” he complained. Haze kicked his leg off the running board and shut the door again. He put his foot on the starter but nothing happened except a noise somewhere underneath him that sounded like a person gargling without water. Onnie Jay got up off the pavement and stood at the window. “If you would just tell me where this new jesus is you was mentioning,” he began.

  Haze put his foot on the starter a succession of times but nothing happened.

  “Pull out the choke,” Onnie Jay advised, getting up on the running board.

  “There’s no choke on it,” Haze snarled.

  “Maybe it’s flooded,” Onnie Jay said. “While we’re waiting, you and me can talk about the Holy Church of Christ Without Christ.”

  “My church is the Church Without Christ,” Haze said. “I’ve seen all of you I want to.”

  “It don’t make any difference how many Christs you add to the name if you don’t add none to the meaning, friend,” Onnie Jay said in a hurt tone. “You ought to listen to me because I’m not just an amateur. I’m an artist-type. If you want to get anywheres in religion, you got to keep it sweet. You got good idears but what you need is an artist-type to work with you.”

  Haze rammed his foot on the gas and then on the starter and then on the starter and then on the gas. Nothing happened. The street was practically deserted. “Me and you could get behind it and push it over to the curb,” Onnie Jay suggested.

  “I ain’t asked for your help,” Haze said.

  “You know, friend, I certainly would like to see this new jesus,” Onnie Jay said. “I never heard a idear before that had more in it than that one. All it would need is a little promotion.”

  Haze tried to start the car by forcing his weight forward on the steering wheel, but that didn’t work. He got out and got behind it and began to push it over to the curb. Onnie Jay got behind with him and added his weight. “I kind of have had that idear about a new jesus myself,” he remarked. “I seen how a new one would be more up-to-date.

  “Where you keeping him, friend?” he asked. “Is he somebody you see ever’ day? I certainly would like to meet him and hear some of his idears.”

  They pushed the car into a parking space. There was no way to lock it and Haze was afraid that if he left it out all night so far away from where he lived someone would be able to steal it. There was nothing for him to do but sleep in it. He got in the back and began to pull down the fringed shades. Onnie Jay had his head in the front, however. “You needn’t to be afraid
that if I seen this new jesus I would cut you out of anything,” he said. “Why friend, it would just mean a lot to me for the good of my spirit.”

  Haze moved the two-by-four off the seat frame to make more room to fix up his pallet. He kept a pillow and an army blanket back there and he had a sterno stove and a coffee pot up on the shelf under the back oval window. “Friend, I would even be glad to pay you a little something to see him,” Onnie Jay suggested.

  “Listen here,” Haze said, “you get away from here. I’ve seen all of you I want to. There’s no such thing as any new jesus. That ain’t anything but a way to say something.”

  The smile more or less slithered off Onnie Jay’s face. “What you mean by that?” he asked.

  “That there’s no such thing or person,” Haze said. “It wasn’t nothing but a way to say a thing.” He put his hand on the door handle and began to close it in spite of Onnie Jay’s head. “No such thing exists!” he shouted.

  “That’s the trouble with you innerleckchuls,” Onnie Jay muttered, “you don’t never have nothing to show for what you’re saying.”

  “Get your head out my car door, Holy,” Haze said.

  “My name is Hoover Shoats,” the man with his head in the door growled. “I known when I first seen you that you wasn’t nothing but a crackpot.”

  Haze opened the door enough to be able to slam it. Hoover Shoats got his head out the way but not his thumb. A howl arose that would have rended almost any heart. Haze opened the door and released the thumb and then slammed the door again. He pulled down the front shades and lay down in the back of the car on the army blanket. Outside he could hear Hoover Shoats jumping around on the pavement and howling. When the howls died down, Haze heard a few steps up to the car and then an impassioned, breathless voice say through the tin, “You watch out, friend. I’m going to run you out of business. I can get my own new jesus and I can get Prophets for peanuts, you hear? Do you hear me, friend?” the hoarse voice said.