The Real Issue

The saga continues...

“Martha,” the pastor said, “what do you think I should do?”

“First,” she said after a deep sigh, “shut that door behind you.”  The pastor closed her office door and leaned against it.  “I don’t want the whole town to know what I said,” she growled in low tones, “before I get done saying it to you.”

“Yes, Martha,” the pastor nodded.  “I feel your pain.  This gossip thing is cancerous.”

“That’s another story right now,” she nodded.  Then she pressed her lips together and wrinkled her nose as if someone had just dumped last week’s garbage on her desk.

“You have to run that self-important little stinker off the church council and probably out of the church.  And you have to do it in such a way that it’s his fault and not yours.  And you have to do it in such a place that there are all sorts of witnesses—and not just a crowd of his toadies and people who owe him money or jobs.”  She stopped, breathed deeply, took off her glasses and rubbed the sides of her nose.  

It had cost Martha a great deal to say all that.

The pastor rolled his eyes and at grinned at about the fifty percent level.  “That’s all, huh?  Engineer a palace coup and have all the members of the court thank me for it afterwards?  Well, that should be easy enough!”

Martha smiled a bit now as well.  “Easier than you think, perhaps.  Most of the folks around here would like to see that short and miserable excuse for a human being tossed out on his ear.  But they don’t have the courage or the skill or the position to do it.”

“And,” the pastor said out of the side of his mouth, “they don’t really have the option of leaving like I do.  They don’t see themselves as expendable in the same way that I am.  I came late to this party, and I can leave any time—isn’t that what they think?”  He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head.

“Yes, Pastor, that’s what some of them think.  And it’s the truth, isn’t it?  One of the reasons you can say the hard things and take the difficult positions is because you have—at least in theory—somewhere else to go.  If you don’t do it, then who will?” 

There was the only question that really mattered.

At that moment, the knob on the door turned.  The pastor stepped away in surprise, and the door flew open into Martha’s office.  Bill fell face first into the room.  Martha’s waste basket sat on the door-side of her desk.  That day she had switched toner cartridges on the copier behind her desk.  One of the cartridges in the box was damaged and leaking.  She had thrown that one in the wastebasket  and the fine, black dust had filled the metal trash bin.  Bill’s face found the ruined cartridge.

He had banged his chin on the edge of the waste basket, and it was bleeding a bit.  His nose was black as soot, and under his eyes were shadows that would please an NFL linebacker on gameday.  It took him a few seconds to lift himself up from the disaster.  When he got up, he had a red streak on his chin and black smudges all over.

The pastor flashed to a cartoon image of the devil he had seen recently.  And he simply couldn’t suppress a smile.

Of course, Bill saw the smirk.   “Oh, so you think it’s funny when someone falls and is bleeding?” Bill shouted.  “Aren’t you just the most wonderful, compassionate pastor we’ve ever had!  As far as I’m concerned, you are a worthless piece of…Martha, hand me some tissues, for crying out loud!”

Martha used her index finger to push a box of tissues toward the blackened and bleeding buffoon.  She looked as if she were dealing with high explosives as she did it.  “Do you want me to call 911?” she sniffed.

“Don’t you dare, you impertinent b…” Bill knew he was less than a second from having to duck the steel paperweight on Martha’s desk.  So he pulled up short.  He wiped off the worst of the blood.  He didn’t realize yet that he looked like a small, balding and bleeding raccoon.

“I heard every word of your plan, you idiots!  You think you can get me thrown out of here?  Let me tell you, I’ve been at this game a long time.  And you’ve got another thing coming if you think you can get the best of me.”

The pastor had finally gathered himself and put on a straight face.  “Bill, just how did you hear all that?  The door was closed and I was leaning against it.  You weren’t…listening at the door were you?”

Bill was about to reply but stopped with his mouth hanging open.  He knew he’d been caught in a foolish position.  The pastor continued.

“But, surely, Bill, you wouldn’t have done something as silly as all that!  You must have tripped as you came in.  Poor fellow!  Let me go to the work room and get the first aid kit so that we can clean you up.  And then we can just have a good laugh over this and get one with our days.

“You think you’re so smart,” Bill hissed.  “Let me tell you something, Preacher.  My family has been in this congregation for four generations.  My great-grandfather was one of the charter members of this place.  And he ran out a pastor who got too big for his britches.  My grandfather was the president here when they chased Reverend Brueggeman out.  My father was in charge here when they tossed that stupid Pastor Beeman out on his ear.  And now it’s my turn.  Start packing your bags, Reverend, because you are going to hit the road.”

Martha’s eyes were wide with both terror and rage.  The pastor remembered wise words from the Ancient Source of Solace: “Step backward to move forward.”  He physically took a step back and drew several deep breaths.  Then he made a choice that, later, even he found surprising.  He chose to learn rather than to lash out.

“Bill, can you help me understand why you think it’s important that I should leave now?”  Then he waited for the answer.

Bill was expecting some sort of tirade.  He was hoping for a physical assault that would end the pastor’s tenure on the spot.  He never expected to be invited into a learning conversation.  But he was ready for the dialogue.

“You’ve been here seven years.  That’s long enough.  If you stay longer, you might actually be in charge of things here.  And as far as I’m concerned, pastors cannot be trusted.  It’s time for you to go before you hurt somebody.”