Theophilus grabbed Uncle Booker's hand and sighed out loud with relief.
"Mr. Webb, I understand that you need to know what I'm all about. I'm not perfect but I was raised right."
They were interrupted by the sound of Essie pulling at the screen door. She didn't know why her mother waited until the last minute to send her out for kosher dill pickles, big green olives, pickled okra, jalapeño peppers, and potato chips to go with lunch. She thought they had enough to eat, with the fresh-baked turkey stuffed in large, homemade rolls, fresh garden tomatoes, butter lettuce and cucumber salad, and homemade custard ice cream with lemon-flavored tea cakes.
But Lee Allie had insisted that these things would make lunch so much better. Essie hoped Theophilus didn't think she was rude for not being there when he arrived.
Theophilus stood up, trying hard to control the big grin stretching across his face when Essie walked into the house.
"Afternoon, Reverend. Hope you haven't been waiting too long."
"No, I haven't been here long."
Lee Allie looked back and forth between the two of them, took the bag of groceries from Essie, handed it to Booker, and said, "Rev. Simmons was telling us a little about his church in Memphis." She turned to Theophilus and asked, "Reverend, how big is your choir? Most solid congregations have good choirs."
Theophilus sat back down. "Mrs. Lane, we have a little over thirty people in our choir, a pianist and organist. One of the first things I did as the new pastor was to appoint a new choir director. Seems like the old one didn't want to sing what the congregation wanted to hear. Lot of folks at Greater Hope love hard-core gospel and they have said that service is so much better now that the choir is rocking the church with some good music. I know I enjoy listening to the choir more now than when I first came as the pastor."
While Theophilus was talking to Lee Allie, he could not stop himself from stealing looks at Essie, who was leaning against the doorway leading to the hall. She was wearing red pants, a red and white horizontal-striped, short-sleeved knit top, and red sneakers. Although the pants showed off her figure well, he sure wished he could have caught another good look at those big legs before he went back to Memphis.
Later, as Essie and Lee Allie sat in the kitchen, shelling snap beans for supper, Lee Allie said, "Essie, I don't know why you didn't hold more conversation with the Reverend. The whole time he was here, you held up that wall, just sizing him up like you was looking for something wrong with him."
"Mama, I didn't have to look for something to be wrong with him. Whole time he was here, he ran his eyes all over me, head to toe, when he thought nobody was looking."
"Essie Lee, he was looking at you so hard because he likes you, girl. And I hate to tell you this, baby, but a man gone look at you like that when he likes what he sees. Even a good man gone look, baby. He cain't help it 'cause he a man. And the Reverend young, too. So he really gone be looking before he can catch himself. What is he, about twenty-eight or so?"
"Twenty-nine. The revival program said he was twenty-nine."
"Well, like I just said, at twenty-nine, he still young enough for his nature to spill out over his home training when he think nobody's lookin'. And remember, even Booker had a good impression of him. I think the Reverend is a decent man. He sure 'nough a good-lookin' one, too. So the next time he comes, you be sure to give him a chance to talk to you."
"Mama, what makes you think he coming back anytime soon?"
"Because I invited him to be our church's guest preacher for Missions Day," Lee Allie said with a smile on her face. "I called Rev. James and my missionary group. Rev. James said that Rev. Simmons was a fine preacher and that he would come at a price we could afford. So now you'll have a chance to see him again."
Essie rolled her eyes, not wanting her mother to know she was happy that Lee Allie had engineered a reason for Theophilus to return to Charleston.
"Girl, why you rolling your eyes like that? You the one who invited him over here in the first place. Besides, you need to meet somebody and leave Charleston. 'Cause you don't need to stay here."
"Mama, I'm not that crazy about preachers. They can be some worrisome men and wear on your nerves something terrible when you are around them. Some of them can be so greedy—buying big cars, always wanting folk to cook them a whole bunch of food, and then will sit there and practically eat up everything in sight. Remember the last guest preacher who came to Mount Nebo? Ate all of the best pieces of ribs and he didn't even offer Rev. James the last piece. Just snatched it out of the pan and gobbled it up."
Lee Allie interrupted her. "That preacher was greedy, all right, but the problem was that we shouldn't have let Mother Harold convince us to invite him in the first place. Several people knew something about him and didn't care much for his ways. But we just sat back and let Mother Harold have her way again. Should have known better. 'Cause we all knew from the get-go that she wanted him to come just so she could look him over for Saphronia. Lord, if that woman don't wear out my patience looking for some preacher to marry her old stuck-up grandbaby."
She shook her head a few times just thinking about the preacher and Mother Harold.
"But Mama—" Essie began.
"But Mama nothing, Essie Lee. Every preacher ain't like that and you doggone well know that fact is the truth. Rev. James is a good man who loves God and takes his pastoring seriously. And you think Rev. Simmons is okay, too. Otherwise, you sure were some fool to let him come over here to see you. You know, Essie Lee, some preachers really do want to do right."
"And you think Theophilus is a man that wants to do right?"
"Umm hmm. I think Theophilus, as you seem to be callin' him now, wants to do right," Lee Allie answered with emphasis on his name.
Essie looked embarrassed. She didn't want her mama reading any more into this situation than she knew she already had. She said, "Well, he'll just have to convince me he is all that you saying he is."
Lee Allie gave Essie a "look" and dismissed that foolishness with a wave of her hand.
Chapter Three
THEOPHILUS STOOD IN THE PULPIT OF ESSIE'S church exactly one month from the day he met her at Pompey's Rib Joint. Mount Nebo had a small congregation of about 160 members from in and around Charleston on the rolls. Most of them were working folk—domestics, gardeners, farmers, seamstresses, cooks, factory workers—with a sprinkling of those who counted themselves among the middle class (two teachers, the secretary for the Negro undertaker in Oakland, the head janitor over at the white high school, and the assistant head cook over at Ole Miss in Oxford). With its plain, red-brick exterior and simple inner decor, it was a warm and welcoming place that was lovingly cared for by its members—as evidenced by its expertly shingled roof, its manicured lawn, and the flowers planted all around the building, as well as its immaculate interior, which gleamed and smelled of fresh lemon wax.
Theophilus held on to each side of the pulpit podium, rolling his shoulders back, looking out on the congregation, and not feeling all that confident about his sermon. He gazed at the folks sitting in the plain, polished pews and focused his attention on a baby girl who looked like a big chocolate doll in a frilly pink dress and matching bonnet trimmed with pink ribbons. He wondered, as he watched the father hold her up on his shoulder, what it would feel like to hold his own baby girl in his arms. He looked at the baby a few more seconds and shifted his attention back to his sermon. So far, he had been quiet this morning—not one whoop, shout, or even the use of a rhythmic cadence of words to emphasize a point. And even though he had some reservations about this sermon, he knew he had captured everybody's attention with his title, "Lovin' Your Woman like Jesus Loved the Church."
The inspiration for it had come when he was listening to B.B. King sing "Sweet Sixteen." He loved the song and the way B.B.'s voice glided up and down the melody, just as Theophilus imagined his fingers were gliding up and down the neck of his guitar, Lucille. At the end of the song, the call and response between B.B. and
the other singers reminded him of a church service. He wanted to preach a sermon that echoed what B.B. did in that song. And, while he always prayed that the Holy Ghost would work through his preaching, to unite and uplift the congregation, challenge them, and speak to their hearts—he really did want to impress Essie Lee Lane.
One or two of the older women had pressed their lips together when he gave the name of the sermon, making him a little nervous about starting, but he noticed that it made the younger women sit up in their seats and look a lot more attentive. And he became even more encouraged when he looked at Essie sitting with her mother and Mrs. Rose Neese, and realized that she was waiting to hear what he had to say.
Theophilus took a sip of water from the glass that was sitting on a table behind him and wiped his forehead and the corners of his mouth with a soft white handkerchief. It was warm in the small sanctuary. He wiped his cheeks and forehead again and unzipped the top of his robe a few inches before he began.
"Now, before I go on, church," he said, his lush baritone voice sending a shiver or two through a few young women in the congregation, "I need to explain myself a bit. See, I don't want to go back to Memphis and wake up in the middle of the night in pain because my ears feeling like they're on fire because you fine folks are discussing how I preached that strange sermon at your church."
Mount Nebo's First Lady, Mrs. Susie James, was sitting on a front-row pew, just a few feet away from the altar. She looked at Theophilus and said, "No need to be frettin' about what you think we gonna say when you gone. Folks at Mount Nebo honest people. We get you told to your face. Now go on and preach!"
A few chuckles circulated around the church because Mrs. Susie James always made it her business to give her own distinct response to Mount Nebo's guest preachers.
Theophilus smiled at Mrs. James. "If the First Lady says hurry up with this sermon, I guess I'd better quit tarrying and give you all a piece of what God inspired to come on into my mind. You see, church, when St. Paul told men to love their wives like Christ loved the church, he left out something."
"And, what did he leave out?" Rev. James asked as he leaned forward in his seat in the pulpit.
"Well, Rev. James," Theophilus said, turning around to look at him. "Paul left out the juice."
"The juice? Well, well, well."
"Yes, Reverend, he left out the juice. And I don't have to tell you that most good stuff like collard greens, pot roast, baked ham, watermelon, peaches, and so forth is not worth too much without the juice. Church, if you leave out the juice, you leave out the best stuff."
Theophilus started getting nervous again when he saw a raised eyebrow on the face of a trustee sitting in the front pew across from Mrs. James. He was looking at him like he wanted to say, "Son, what in the heck you talkin' 'bout?"
He rolled his shoulders again and boldly pressed ahead. "You see, when Paul spoke to us in the Bible, he commanded us men to love our women like Jesus loved the church too dry and neat-like. Now think about it. There is nothing dry and neat-like about love—especially that good kind of loving that is chock-full of passion."
There were a few surprised gasps in the congregation. Mount Nebo had never had a preacher come close to talking about man-woman love, let alone "that good kind of loving that is chock-full of passion."
Rev. James raised his eyebrows and then relaxed them. He had known Theophilus for a few years and had heard him preach more than one controversial sermon in that time. He was confident that Theophilus would deliver a sermon the congregation could use in their daily lives—even if he did shock the socks off of them before he made his point.
Lee Allie nudged Essie and told her to poke Rose Neese in her side so that she could get her attention. The two women looked at each other, behind Essie's back, and said with their eyes, "I don't believe that boy stood there and said that."
"Now, church," Theophilus went on, "you all will have to bear with me. I know this sermon is different and provoking. But you all have to realize that sometimes God pokes at us and the best way to poke is to provoke. So I'm gonna poke and provoke this morning until I finish saying what God is laying heavy on my heart."
He steadied himself at the pulpit podium and continued: "Now, church, real love between a man and a woman ain't all neat and tidy like we think St. Paul is talking about in Corinthians. I hope he understood that real love was a whole lot messier than that. Because real passionate love can throw your heart, mind, and body every which way but loose. Gentlemen, you all know that when a woman truly stirs your heart, every part of you goes into a fit and you can almost feel the blood rushing through your veins whenever she is near.
"And you ladies out there—you ladies know that the right man will make you smile all over yourself, light up your faces like sunshine, put some natural blushing on your cheeks, and give you reason to strut all sassy-like when you get to walking. And I know you all know that walk I'm talking about. It's that walk you good Christian men in Mississippi like to sing and talk about when you're not up in church."
Both the women and the men laughed when he said that.
Theophilus wiped his face with the handkerchief again and smiled at the congregation.
He looked right at Essie when he said: "I'm glad to know you all know what I'm talking about with those walks. Even I, a preacher, want to sing some songs a preacher isn't supposed to know about when one of the brown flowers in this congregation does that good ole Mississippi walking."
Now Theophilus backed away from the pulpit podium and moved out front, the Bible in his hand, to make more direct personal contact with the congregation. He didn't need the microphone. His voice was strong and projected easily across the small sanctuary.
"Mount Nebo, I didn't come here to get you all upset with me. But I have no choice other than to preach from my heart."
"Then get on with your sermon, son," a man sitting in one of the middle pews said. " 'Cause I'm gone be gettin' hungry directly and want my soul fed first."
Everybody started laughing and Theophilus relaxed some more. He did as he was asked.
"Church, I think the reason we men can't figure out how to love these sweet brown flowers sitting up in this congregation right, is because we just don't understand how God could call us to commit ourselves to a higher level of humanity through our relationships with women. Sometimes we men get off track and act like these relationships interfere with serving God—like women get in the way of man and God. But I'm here to tell you that God didn't mean for that to be so. The passion that is stirred up between a husband and a wife—if treated with the respect God intended for us to treat it with—helps us become filled with a love for the Lord, our brothers and sisters, ourselves, and life in general, that makes us better in every way.
"You see, church, this kind of love ignites the senses and it makes you glad to be alive. And that kind of stuff flowing through your soul can inspire all sorts of wondrous things. It can make you want to be closer to God. It can make you want to be closer to people. It can make you want to stir up life in the people around you. And a lot of you know that it can make you want to create new life—new life like that baby doll sitting over there in her daddy's lap looking all sweet and precious this morning."
Folks in the congregation turned to look at the baby and her daddy as she just cooed and smiled as if she knew that she had helped Theophilus along with his sermon.
Theophilus smiled at her and said, "That's right, sweetie pie, tell us all about how we should be living."
Essie's heart felt warm and tingling as she watched Theophilus talking to the baby from the pulpit. She couldn't help but wonder what kind of father he would be. She imagined he'd be the kind who showered lots of hugs and kisses on his babies—bringing home bagsful of candy they didn't need, just so he could see bright smiles on their faces and hear the squeals of delight in their voices. These thoughts warmed her heart even more and she looked up at the pulpit and gave him a smile that was so sweet and lovely, it made her face li
ght up.
Theophilus saw Essie smiling at him and felt good all over. His voice boomed out, even stronger: "A thinker named Alan Watts wrote in a book about men, women, and nature, that the coming together, the shared passions between a man and woman, was one way of experiencing God. Now don't get me wrong, church. I didn't say the way but one way. You all have to remember that. You see, Mr. Watts seemed to believe that passion, or in our case, good loving, was indeed part of the gifts God gave to us—and that this passion was sacred."
The congregation had grown quiet, and Theophilus could tell that they were listening and thinking about what he was saying. He now sat down on the altar steps, adjusting his robe around his knees, then leaned forward to give them a mischievous grin. "You all must be thinking that I'm kind of crazy about now," he said. "That's all right, though. Back in the Bible days, folks thought Jesus was kind of touched in the head, too. But, church, you have to realize that dealing with this husband and wife thing is very important—the church is mighty dependent on having a steady supply of married folks with each passing generation. Healthy, happy, sane, and productive folks I might add."
Then he delivered the punch: "But more importantly, we are fighting hard in this country for the right to be equal to everybody else in America. And since this fight is important enough for some of our bravest soldiers of the cross to die for, we need to deal with how we act at home. Before we go out to combat the evils of racism, fight the evils of segregation, refuse to yield to the evils of the Klan, wage war against the evils of poverty, and engage in all-out battle against the evils heaped upon us just for being a Negro in America, we need to get right at home.
"Church, I'm sick of the injustices we Negroes heap on one another—especially what we Negro men can do to our own women. We run around this country screaming and hollering for all the world to hear that we're men. Then we come home all puffed up with manly pride and take away the very rights we are demanding for ourselves from our own Negro women and children. Now, church, that's not right. In fact, it's downright ugly. You all hearing me?"
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