Chapter XVIII. KANDUDE AND MORTON VISIT THE HOLY LAND
By afternoon of the next day, Kandude and Morton found themselves in Nashville. Unsure how to focus their search, they stopped in at a neighborhood library to see if there was a church directory or other helpful resource. They found the reference librarian in a back room. She was crying as she threw stacks of books into a rollaway trash bin while checking off titles on a list that was several pages long.
The librarian, who wore a badge that said Mandy Brooks, said that she had been ordered by the newly appointed Library Board to dispose of a long list of books that in any way mentioned slavery and racism; sexual development or activity by anyone under 21; sex outside of Christian marriage; sex involving non-missionary postures; the words “sex,” “breast,” “buttocks” or “organ”; non-binary gender references; colonialism; historical treatment of Native Americans; anything that might suggest that Christianity isn’t the one true religion and all others aren’t a total crock; all books written or published in California; and materials suggesting that free speech rights and literacy values should interfere with banning books. At the moment Mandy Brooks was pitching books titled The Bluest Eye, They Called Themselves the K.K.K., Lord of the Rings, Changing Bodies, Growing Up, Sex and Sexual Health, and Animal Farm.
“We librarians and many local teachers did our best to resist these orders,” said Mandy Brook, “but then I started getting notes telling me that they know where my children play, suggestions that I need to be given a personal lesson about having proper sex with real men, and explicit death threats. Somebody tagged “House of Satan’s Works” on the front of the library, and they swatted my house.”
Even though they didn’t know what ‘swatting’ was, Kandude and Morton expressed shock and dismay over this turn of events and offered their sympathies. “My dear Professor B,” said Kandude, “always said that ‘libraries are the true arsenals of democracy.’”
“This is shameful, indeed,” added Morton. “Librarians should be honored as learned travel guides to the world of knowledge. Censorship is a universal harbinger of fascism. Of course, what else can you expect in these depraved times, which, unfortunately, are much the same as any other times.”
Mandy Brooks thanked them for their concern, expressing the wish that more would rise up in opposition to the reactionary Thought Police. However, in spite of her distress, being a true librarian, she asked how she could help them. After learning of their quest and admiring the picture of Cardoshia, she observed that the entire state was a teeming nest of fundamentalist churches. However, it seemed to her at least somewhat likely that a church with a budget for this kind of recruiting might well be a wealthy Megachurch.
“The grandest megachurch in the region is the Booty of God Cathedral, near the little town of Crassus not far off highway 41,” said the good librarian. “It was started about five years ago by Pastor Boral Copensteam. These days, cars full of worshippers pour in from all over the state every Sunday. Which happens to be tomorrow.”
After thanking the librarian and wishing her well, Kandude and Morton found a place for BBQ and a cheap motel for the night. The next morning, after a visit to Dunkin Donuts, they headed out to the Booty of God Cathedral, swept along in a swelling stream of traffic headed for the same destination.
They followed the pack through a large green and gold arch into a rolling woodland campus, passing a private airfield with several sleek jets and an 18-hole golf course with each hole numbered after a Biblical verse. They rounded a corner, and there, atop a manicured hilltop, stood a vast building with two lofty crystal towers topped with golden domes and crosses. On approach, there was a large overflow parking lot with a massive Jumbotron allowing people to attend services from their cars. This lot had hundreds of parking spots demarcated by little poles with some sort of module mounted on top.
Kandude and Morton parked and joined the throng, entering the cathedral through giant green and gold doors. Inside was a space that appeared to be able to hold at least 10,000 people, with ascending tiers of pews filling each transept. At the culmination of the nave, was a stage big enough to put on Phantom of the Opera. Twin choirs with hundreds of gospel singers in glittering green and gold robes flanked the stage. Eight Jumbotrons hung from the vaulted ceiling which itself featured luminous green and gold expanses of stained glass. On the screens Kandude and Morton could see that the name of the choir was “The Divine Mammonites.” Somewhat overwhelmed, they took seats in the back.
Suddenly there erupted a great fanfare and the Divine Mammonites burst into gospel song. The Pastor Boral Copensteam and his beautiful wife swept in from a central runway to the thunderous applause of the multitude. Pastor Copensteam bounded up to the microphone array, replicated on a large scale by his own enormous images on the mammoth screens, and basked in applause with a dazzling smile that would make a tax-deductible continuing education credit cruise ship full of cosmetic dentists lose consciousness. An elaborate camera system worthy of the NFL Superbowl captured the action for the remote participants and pre-recorded fundraising events.
“Brothers and sisters in Jesus,” he intoned, drawing out the name ‘Jeeezuzz,’ “welcome to the holiest fiscal day of the week here at our Booty of God Cathedral.” More applause ensued. “Let me remind you all on this holy day, of the Parable of the Talents, in which those who double their master’s money will be known as good and faithful servants, and those who offer no returns on investment shall be rightfully deemed wicked and slothful servants.”
“Today we are truly blessed by the Lord,” continued Pastor Copensteam, “to welcome into our midst as our featured guest a true apostle of our redeemer and most esteemed celebrity spiritual counselor to our President for Life, Tantor von Pyubengrabbler.” The crowd clapped, gasped, and nearly swooned at the full formal name of their True President.
“Visiting from her ministry in the great faithful state of Florida, and fresh from sharing the light of the Lord at Mor on Logo, it is my great privilege to welcome Righteous Reverend Pawlah Whallah!”
The Divine Mammonites swelled in joyful harmony. The loud thumping of a helicopter descending onto the rooftop helipad shook the entire church.!-- /wp:paragraph --> As the sound of rotor blades subsided, a stunning blonde woman in a sleek pink dress flowed down the runway, trailed by an entourage of six men in elegant black suits, and mirrored above by her colossal Jumbotron replicas. The congregation exploded.
Arriving at the microphones, Righteous Reverend Pawlah Whallah was met with hugging, kissing and tears by Pastor Copensteam and beautiful Co-Pastor Mrs. Copensteam. Pastor Copensteam expressed his boundless spiritual joy through highly animated hugging and petting of the renowned Reverend Pawlah. After disconnecting from this warm greeting, Reverend Pawlah approached the microphones, waving and mouthing thank you during the several minutes it took for the tumult to subside.
“I can feel the power of the spirit in this house,” she said in a throaty voice, “and I know that here today are gathered children of destiny who will attain perfect health, abundant wealth, and glory in the eyes of God and man. For many of you are now, and all of you can be, people of the covenant. As with any sacred membership, such as my membership in the private club at Mor on Logo (at this mention the crowd murmured), the covenant requires the contribution of an initial membership fee and appropriate ongoing dues.”
“Before we go deeper into today’s sacred commitments of spirit and finances, I must speak to you frankly about a moral imperative of our time, second only to the godly accumulation of wealth,” said Reverend Pawlah. “We all know that our country and our Christian faith face great peril. In order to preserve and protect our faith, our footing, and our finances, I say unto you that it is our duty – it is your duty – to pray and vote for our President for Life Tantor von Pyubengrabbler (here Reverend Pawlah slipped into a rhythmic cadence), to forever guide our holy congregation, to forever lead our Christian nation, and to forever thwart unjust taxation. Furthermore, I say unto you, as the Gospel teaches, our True President’s righteousness, infallibility, and status as the ordained defender of our faith and fortunes are indisputably proven by his limitless wealth, fortitude, and divine immunity from assassination attempts, which may only be achieved by the grace of God.”
The vast congregation stood as one, clapping wildly. Many took up the chant “TvP, TvP…” while others intoned “Whallah Christian America! Whallah Christian America!”
As the clamor subsided and the Divines tunes receded to a soothing background hum, Reverend Pawlah leaned into the microphones. “If you are sick, investing in God will make you well. If you are hungry, investing in God will bring you sustenance. If you are poor, investing in God will make you rich. The more you invest, the greater the returns. God is the great Banker in Heaven – this church is just his ordained earthly cashier. I urge each and every one of you now to sow these resurrection seeds during this limited sacred window of opportunity.”
At this moment, card readers mounted in front of each congregant lit up with bright red flashing LED lights. Pastor Copensteam stepped up to the microphone again, putting a warm ministerial arm around his fellow broker in Christ, Reverend Pawlah. “I say to you all that now is the moment to tap. Tap for the Kingdom. Tap for the Power. Tap for the Glory.” His voice was melodious, hypnotic, and compelling. “Know that this tapping is tapping into the greatest mutual fund of all, the Mutual Fund of God. And your tapping will, as surely as day follows night, be richly rewarded here on earth.”
The congregants began reaching into their wallets and purses, extracting credit and debit cards and began tapping the card readers with a fervor born of their love of God, compound interest, and high yields. By the thousands, the red flashing LEDs turned to steady greens. Soon only Kandude and Morton stood with Red Beacons of Shame, captured close up on every merciless Jumbotron. The rapt attention of the greenlit multitude gazed upon them, 10,000 strong.
Morton grabbed Kandude’s arm. “We need to get out of here,” he urged. He pulled Kandude from the pew and they fled out through the massive front doors, escaping just as they swung shut and locked behind them. They could see themselves running from the church on the outdoor Jumbotron, but quickly the cameras cut away and Reverend Pawlah resumed the proceedings as if nothing untoward had happened.
On the outdoor screen, Reverend Pawlah exhorted the faithful to renew their commitments, and called upon members of the congregation, especially those new to the church, to come forward to the Altar for a Second Work of Grace. She reminded those blessed respondents to bring up their wallets, jewelry, watches and spare change.
In the meantime, Kandude and Morton were making a beeline for their Subaru. As they were fleeing, someone in a rusty old Honda watching the service on the outdoor jumbotron honked and urgently waved them over. A middle-aged man and women in threadbare Sunday clothes sat in the car, beside which a card reader on a pole was flashing red. They pointed at three men in dark suits and green and gold ties, walking briskly across the lawn toward them. “Follow us, friends – the Collection Disciples are after us!”
The Honda wheeled around and sped away. Kandude and Morton jumped into the Subaru and followed. They wound their way through a back road and away from the campus, across which were arrayed a multitude of surveillance cameras.
The couple in the Honda drove a somewhat circuitous route, finally arriving at a small park on the shores of a beautiful lake. The couple got out and introduced themselves as John and Mary. They indicated that Kandude and Morton were not likely to be followed, but warned that the Collection Disciples now had their license plates and would be sure to add them to the church rolls, mailing lists, and lucrative prayer visit rosters.
John and Mary commended the two men for resisting the financial seductions of God’s cashiers Copensteam and Whallah. “We were once deeply faithful to the BoG church,” said John and Mary. “We gave every cent we had, and for years worked jobs at the church for less than minimum wage, barely surviving in hopes that our Resurrection Seeds would finally bloom. While there, we eventually noticed there was a great deal of traffic from various investment firms, Mediterranean looking fellows in pinstripe suits, and luxury car dealers.”
“Pastor Copensteam seemed to have very warm relationships with several among his large numbers of young, attractive personal assistants of both sexes. The Pastor got a Gulfstream G650, and we got letters urging us to activate our automatic deduction Prayer Request Accounts and go deeper into debt. We believe in our Lord Jesus the Redeemer and the value of prayer and hard work, but suspect there is something not right at the BoG.”
Kandude and Morton commiserated. “The whole experience did seem a bit disconcerting,” offered Kandude, “but my learned advisor, Professor B, would likely have been impressed by the syncretism of profits and prophets. Anyway, thank you for getting us out of there.”
John and Mary asked them to share their story. After learning of their quest and admiring the picture of Cardoshia, they said they had never seen her, but shared that another fast-growing church seemed to be making a name for itself and was lately making some use of the media. They said the Bible Nation: Da-Vision Church was not far away, in the small town of Jericho.