by Jay Rubin
Tom stopped and turned toward Mitsuko. Her eyes rose toward his, and he perceived the amazement in her face when she saw his exultant smile. He took both her hands in his hands.
“It’s true!” he announced.
“Pastor Tom, please!” she cried, struggling to free her hands from his grasp.
“It’s true!” he repeated. “I am a ‘white Jap!’ I am the White Jap!”
At home, Tom strode triumphantly back and forth in the living room while Mitsuko prepared their lunch.
“What is it?” she asked with a mystified smile each time she looked at his beaming face during the meal. But he would only smile more broadly.
After the meal, Mitsuko took Billy to his room for his nap. Tom waited, sitting, standing, pacing, looking out the window, and when, finally, Mitsuko entered the living room, he insisted that she sit on the couch next to him.
“Mitsuko,” he said, taking her hands, which, this time, she surrendered less hesitantly, “I have seen the ultimate plan of God almighty—the building of His kingdom on earth as it is in Heaven.”
He paused to drink in the wonderful look of expectation she wore. How she would rejoice with him!
“I want you,” he said, as calmly as he could manage, “to be my wife.”
Then, as her eyes widened in amazement, he told her of the many truths that God had given him to know over the past week, culminating in the moment of enlightenment this morning.
By the time he was finished speaking, her eyes were full of tears. She bowed her head and let them flow freely. But when she looked at him again, her head was moving almost imperceptibly from side to side.
“No,” she whispered. “I am afraid.”
“Afraid? Afraid of what?”
“I am not strong enough.”
“We will be each other’s strength. The Lord will be our strength.”
“But there is so much hate.”
“I know,” he said, almost joyfully. “And that is exactly why we must not hesitate. We will conquer hate with love. I will show my people that to be a ‘white Jap’ is to walk in the footsteps of Christ.”
“If your people were the only ones with hate, I would not be so afraid.”
Her words brought him up short. “What do you mean?” he said, his exultant smile fading.
“Do you think the Japanese have no reason to hate?”
“Of course,” he said, “there has been great injustice, but those who have embraced Christ—”
“—are still yellow, and you are still white.”
“But my congregation, my flock—”
“—are still yellow, and you are still white.”
“No!” he shouted, gripping her hands until she winced in pain. “Mitsuko! Do you love me?”
She fell to her knees before him, bowing her head and sobbing. Her whole body shuddered as she fought for breath. “Oh, God!” she gasped, “I do love you! Please believe me. I would die for Billy and you!”
“Thank God almighty!” He placed his hands gently upon her head and waited patiently, smiling again, until she had cried herself out.
“I am still afraid,” she whispered, raising her tear-streaked face. “If we marry—”
“When we marry!”
“What will the congregation think? What will they say?”
“They’ll be thrilled, of course!”
“I am not so sure.”
“You’ll see, I promise you. I’ll tell them next week.”
“No,” she said, with quiet determination. “Do not tell them.”
“But that’s impossible,” he said. “We could never hide our marriage.”
“I do not mean to hide it. I mean do not tell them: ask them.”
She was right. If they were to have any hope of fulfilling the life he had planned for them, it would have to be with the support of the people in his ministry. He was certain that, if he bared his heart to them, they would respond with love. He cradled her face in his hands, and for a long while they looked at each other silently. Here, he thought, within my hands is the woman the Lord has chosen to be my wife. But when he bent to kiss her on the lips, she turned aside.
“I will be yours, my Pastor Tom, when we both know for certain it is what we want.”
“I know for certain now.”
She looked at him deeply, without speaking for several moments. “Until that day,” she said, “let us continue to live as loving brother and sister.”
Her intense gaze moved him profoundly. “I swear I will,” he said, “as God is my witness.”
9
TOM AND MITSUKO were at the dinner table in the Nomuras’ cozy house on East Olive Street. The childless Nomuras lived well on Goro’s salary from Nichi-Bei Bank. A modest but handsome chandelier hung from the dining room ceiling, and the walls were covered with colorful Japanese prints. On the mantelpiece stood the foot-high porcelain figure of a cat.
“We must be realistic, Pastor Tom,” Goro said, peering through his thick glasses. “The people of this country can be very cruel about matters of race.”
“How well I know that, Goro!” Tom responded with feeling. “But we must not allow the worst in our brothers to shape our lives.”
“And you, Mitsuko,” Yoshiko said, her hair parted in the center like her sister’s. “Do you have any idea how difficult marrying Reverend Morton will be?”
“I know,” Mitsuko said, “but my love for Pastor Tom and Billy is like nothing I have ever known before.”
Yoshiko glanced uneasily at her husband.
“Believe me, Goro, we have thought out everything carefully,” Tom insisted.
“I hope so,” Yoshiko responded. “My sister has already suffered much in her young life.”
“Never again,” Tom said. “With the Lord’s help, I can promise you that much. Never again.”
By mid-week, their plan was ready. Tom would first confer with Reverend Hanamori and ask his blessing. Mitsuko would come with him to be certain there were no language difficulties. That hurdle crossed, Tom would ask the reverend to announce only that Tom had a message he wished to deliver to a joint worship service of the entire congregation. The announcement of the time change could be made at both the Nichigo and English-language services this weekend, and the following Sunday they would hold the special service at 10:30, a little late for the Nichigos and somewhat early for the Niseis. Tom would present their case in the form of a sermon, and Mitsuko would rise at the end to join him in their petition. This would be the correct way to proceed, even if the process were a time-consuming one.
But the first hurdle proved unexpectedly high. The Reverend Hanamori greeted their solemn plea with equal solemnity. Did they realize the suffering they surely had in store for them if they took this momentous step? he asked. They assured him they did, but even so he asked for time to think it over. One Sunday went by, and then another.
To Tom, each day seemed twice as long as the one before, but Mitsuko went about her domestic duties with the same cheerful efficiency and tried to comfort him with protestations of her belief in the elder cleric’s wisdom.
Finally, after two weeks, through Yoshiko, the reverend gave his approval. The following Sunday, a special “Service in Unity” was announced for the week ahead, March 3.
Tom spent the intervening weeks writing his special sermon, polishing it, memorizing it, and practicing his delivery. As the day drew near, the intensity of his anticipation increased, and rumors that both segments of the congregation were looking forward eagerly to the special service confirmed his feeling that this was to be the most important performance of his life.
His heart was pounding as he stepped to the podium that Sunday, but when he saw the smiling faces turned to him in communal joy, a feeling of serenity overtook him, and he began to speak with calm confidence.
“My friends,” he began, pausing, and allowing the truth of even this simple phrase to permeate the sanctuary, “I come before you today to tell you that ‘His Love is One.’�
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Already, his eyes were gleaming, and he looked from face to face as the Reverend Hanamori translated for the Nichigos. “His Love is One!” he repeated more forcefully. “Oh, my wonderful Nichigo brothers and sisters! If only I could speak to you in your native tongue. If only my words could embrace you as my arms have embraced you and as my soul now embraces you.
“And you, my English-speaking flock. Week after week, month after month, I have stood before you with the word of God and pretended to be one of you. That’s right! Pretended! And I confess it to you, here and now.”
He paused to let the meaning of his words sink in.
“Look at me! Look at this white skin, this yellow hair, these blue eyes. Think back, my children, think back to the countless times your minister has come to you and professed to understand your suffering, and to preach to you the love of God, and never once has he—have I—mentioned these things. It is as if you and I have been sharing a secret of which neither of us has dared to speak. But today, in God’s Truth, I dare to speak of it. I dare to proclaim openly before you that you and I are different. We are not the same.”
By now, the confident smiles of the congregation had been replaced by furtive glances, as he had known they would be.
“Does this disturb you, my children? Does this make you uneasy? It should not. It is the truth. The truth is something you should welcome. The truth is always good. The truth is always God’s truth. And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.
“My people, my beloved children of God, let us together recognize that you and I are different, because that difference tells us of the glory and majesty of God. His Love is One! Do you hear my words? Do they penetrate to your hearts? His Love is One. What a blessing and a miracle this is. God’s love is so great and all-embracing that it brings all of us into His bosom, whatever the color of our skin. To other men, we are irreparably parted: they look at you and see black hair, they look at me and see blond, and they think that because of these differences, we are forever doomed to be sundered in two.
“But not God! God’s Love is One. If all of God’s children were the same, what miracle would there be in his loving us equally? But, my beloved brothers and sisters in Christ, the great, the awesome miracle is that He loves us all the same. Look at this! Look!”
Pastor Tom suddenly pinched the flesh of his cheek and began pulling and stretching it.
“Look at this ugly, white stuff. No, it isn’t even white: we who have it like to call it white, but what color is it, really, this rubber or leather or whatever it is? Can you believe it? Can you see what I mean when I tell you what a miracle it is that God can love this?”
Tom’s antics were easing the tension in the congregation, and laughter rose here and there in the sanctuary.
“Yes, it’s funny, isn’t it? Of course, God doesn’t love this. He loves this.” Tom pointed to his heart. “God’s Love is One because he loves the hearts and souls of all his children, and he doesn’t care what those hearts and souls are wrapped in.”
He could feel his audience opening themselves to him, and he waited for the wave of amusement to quiet down.
“Now,” he continued, returning to his subdued tone, “there is something else I must confess to you. What I want to confess is that I never realized any of this in the years I have been your minister. I have stood up here—yes, up here, above you, feeling I was closer to God than you, and delivering to you His holy message, the Gospel of Our Lord Jesus Christ. I hope and pray that some of His truth made it through to you, and I believe that, if you let me, I can truly be your minister of God in the years to come.
“Now, you may be wondering what has opened my eyes in this way. You may be asking yourselves, ‘How comes it that our minister has suddenly seen the light?’ Well, I am proud to say that the agent of God was one of your very own.”
The eyes in the sanctuary shifted to Reverend Hanamori, who began to fidget and to wave feebly as if to sweep away the misdirected admiration.
Beaming, Tom held his hand out to Mitsuko, who was seated today in the front row with Billy in her lap. Having heard Tom’s rehearsals, she rose on cue and, leading Billy by the hand, she walked to the podium, where she stood beside him, head bowed.
“By now, you all know Mitsuko, the sister of Mrs. Yoshiko Nomura. God, in his infinite wisdom, drew to her my little son, Billy, who has never known a mother’s love. Those of you who were there on the day the Lord brought them together cannot doubt that it was, indeed, a miracle. They have been inseparable ever since. Dear Yoshiko made it possible for her to come and live with us, and as Mitsuko cared for Billy, I have tried to teach Mitsuko to understand more fully the words of the Gospel in English.
“I say that I have tried to teach Mitsuko, but in comparison to what she has taught me, I cannot claim great success. For she has taught me everything that I have said to you today. It was from Mitsuko that I learned the truth of today’s sermon: His Love is One. It is a truth which, I hope, you will all feel in your hearts. I say this because today I am going to ask you to act upon that truth and to share its glory with Mitsuko and Billy and me.”
By now, he could see, the point of his talk had dawned on some of the members of the congregation, and they did not look pleased. Still hopeful, he continued.
“The three of us wish to become a family.” He paused. “I have asked Mitsuko to join me in holy matrimony, and she has accepted my proposal.”
A few of the younger worshippers clapped their hands in joy, but the faces of the Nichigos were grim.
“But this miracle can only happen with the blessing of our brothers and sisters in Christ. We stand before you today as a witness: His Love is One. We have experienced this truth in the profoundest depths of our souls, and we humbly pray for you to experience it with us. We know all too well that those outside our church will continue to see only the outward differences that separate us, but I believe—and Mitsuko believes, and surely, when he is older, Billy will believe in his mind as he now so clearly does in his heart—that the Love of God binds us together as one, and that, in this Unity of Love, I can be one with you as never before.”
Tom paused.
“We will go out now,” he concluded, “and I have asked Reverend Hanamori to lead you as a community in deliberating on our solemn petition.”
Tom turned to Mitsuko, who bowed to the congregation and spoke to them in Japanese. He was taken aback when she stopped speaking after only a sentence or two. Now there was nothing left but for the three of them to withdraw from the sanctuary and wait.
No sooner had the door closed behind them than Billy ran to the water fountain. Mitsuko went to lift him up to the stream.
“Why didn’t you say more?” Tom asked her while Billy drank.
“I asked them for their good will—yoroshiku. They could understand. I am only a woman. They would not want me to say too much.”
“Still …”
But there was no point in talking about it now. For the next hour, they walked up and down the hallways of the church, listening to their own footsteps echo off the floors and walls.
When Reverend Hanamori came to call them into the sanctuary, his expression was blank. As he walked ahead down the center aisle, the congregation did not look at them. When they reached the center of the sanctuary, the reverend spun on his heels, and, with a broad smile, he proclaimed something loudly in Japanese. Tom recognized the syllables, “o-medeto”—“congratulations,” and the entire congregation converged on the trio to offer handshakes, bows, and good wishes. Only a few of the older members seemed to be hanging back, but Mrs. Uchida was not one of them.
“Beelee, Beelee!” she cried, pushing her way through the crowd and sweeping the little boy up in her arms. “You so lucky! Now you have mommy!”
Billy grabbed the nose of his old baby-sitter, which brought a roar of laughter from those nearby.
The modest wedding took place six weeks later, in April. The Fukais in Japan and th
e Mortons in Kansas allowed the event to pass in silence. Neither Tom nor Mitsuko felt a honeymoon to be necessary or appropriate. Mitsuko said she had no intention of leaving Billy for any length of time, and, although he said nothing about it, Tom had no desire to encounter any angry Manfredos on the road.
After the festivities, Mitsuko gave Billy his bath and sang him to sleep while Tom sat in the living room, reading and half-listening. Instead of taking her own bath, however, Mitsuko came to him and suggested that Tom bathe first.
“In Japan,” she explained, “the master of the house should be the first to enter the bath.”
Instead of complying, he merely looked at her and said, “Come here.”
When she was an arm’s length away, he took her wrist and pulled her down onto his lap. She let him kiss her mouth, but she did not return the kiss, and she stood up as soon as she could regain her footing.
“Please,” she said, gesturing toward the bathroom.
Tom sighed and went to the bathroom, where Mitsuko had prepared everything for him: fresh soap and towels and even a new bathrobe. It was a light kimono with a gray sash.
When he was through washing, he lay in bed, feeling the crisp cloth of his new sleeping robe and listening to the sound of the bath water. It was the same splashing he had been hearing for nearly a year, but tonight it sounded different. Tonight, his new wife was in there, preparing herself for him. The bare walls of the bedroom were lighted only by the small oak pull-chain lamp on the simple nightstand that he and Sarah had brought from Kansas. When, at last, he heard the bathroom door open, he looked up, expecting to see Mitsuko enter his room in her usual bluish-grey kimono. Instead, the room’s shadows seemed suddenly dispelled by a burst of gold and red from the doorway. She stood before him now, as if swathed in the burning red of the sun, its golden rays spilling in all directions, long and sinuous.