The Vessel

Chapter 3 - The Preacher

NOTE: This is a work in progress and will be edited as I go.

3. The Preacher

"Hallelujah!" His voice boomed across the nave of the Holy Trinity (Mega) Church.

Thousands of congregants – a crowd larger than the population of Woodwell itself – sat in a mass of bolted, folding chairs that formed a massive, encircled cross. They came from near and far to witness the miracles and festivities promised to them within the walls of the holy hall.

The speaker, Pastor John Hagerty, stood at the center of the aisles on an elevated, circular stage. He wore a cheap grey suit and red striped tie, had the kind of haircut one would expect and a million-dollar smile. Already an hour into his Saturday sermon, the crowd remained ever enamored by the preacher. He held a microphone in one hand and a leather-bound black bible in the other. Behind him stood a vacant grand organ, two large, booth-like constructs concealed by a crimson tarp-like sheathing, and an ivory, seven foot-tall-replica of Jesus on the cross. Several camera podiums were attached equidistantly around the perimeter of the stage, though only two of the turreted recorders were manned. The bi-weekly sermons were always recorded but were not yet played live.

John tilted his head upwards. The upper confines of the church were a jungle of metal girders and countless glass panes, forming a sunroof to illuminate the dais. John's unblemished, tanned skin glimmered in the sun's rays; his eyes scintillating with aquamarine brilliance. He spoke for God and wanted the world to know it. John closed his eyes.

"Now, join me in prayer." The horde of worshippers bowed their heads in unison in one collective motion.

"Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good!" he started. The PA system carried his soothing, confident voice across the breadth of the congregation's existence; he offered all the answers most desperately sought. "His faithful love endures all!" He paused for a moment, as if he was being ear-fed the sermon from the Lord himself. "Who can declare the Lord's mighty acts or proclaim all the praise due him? How happy are those who uphold justice, who practice righteousness at all times? Remember me, Lord, when you show favor to your people, come to ME with your salvation!" John halted the monologue again to bask in the warm sunlight.

"So that I may enjoy the prosperity of your chosen ones, rejoice in the joy of your nation, and boast about your heritage!" The pastor bowed his head; the flock was enraptured by their cheap-suited, albeit well-manicured demagogue's sermon. He exhaled into the microphone in his hand, his breath whooshing through the crowd like blizzard gusts. John opened his eyes.

"Today! Today you will all bear witness to a miracle!" He paused his speech again, this time motioning for the crowd to stand. They obeyed and applauded; thousands of hands slapped in deafening unison. The preacher, ever the showman, bowed slowly, waiting for the mass to quiet down.

"I have brought to you, my flock, two men who have been plagued by the disease of addiction! By the power in me, through our Lord and Savior, I will cure them of their ailments! Hallelujah!" The crowd roared.

Two stoic, larger-than-most men that could have passed as twins, with shaved heads and goatees, clad in expensive, black silk suits emerged from the side of the circled platform. Behind them followed a pair of ruffled, dirty men in their 20's; all were headed to the dais.

The Dirty Pair's smell could have made a pig farmer vomit, the crud on their mottled skin so thick and oily it could be used to paint on canvas. Their clothes were torn and tattered and holey; both men clawed at itching, scabrous wounds that dotted their arms like constellations. The crowd, aghast and disgusted, fell silent; a palpable tension buzzed in the air. These men were sinners. How could even God save them, those who were so unclean, the crowd pondered in unison. The unholy men were judged; their verdict death by a thousand silent stares.