Questing Parson

Will We Ever Get There?

The parson drove home perplexed.

Many months before this drive home and interesting thing had happened at the parson's church. It was about twenty-five minutes to a half-hour before the service began. Two women walked into the sanctuary. The parson was in a room at the rear and overheard their conversation as they walked down the aisle.

“Oh, Mildred, what a beautiful little church.”

“Thanks,” replied Mildred, an elderly matron of the church. The proceeded a few feet further down the aisle. And the parson overheard Mildred say to her friend, “And this, this is our lesbian pew.”

It wasn't said in a negative way. Indeed, the tone of Mildred's voice conveyed, “We've got a lesbians in our church and you don't.”

The Soup Suppers every Monday night, begun so many years ago by Ms. Parson, were a delight to the church. Florence, who wasn't homeless but remained only a stone's toss from it every month, was a fixture. The parson thought of how, after Florence's vehicle broke down, the church members began picking her up to bring her to the suppers where she could fill her tummy and usually bum some money for the coming week. Florence was a part of the fabric of the church now.

And the parson thought to the many times families of non-white races had come to the church and been greeted with full acceptance and joy at their presence, of the generally wonderful reception of the black preacher the parson invited.

The parson thought back to a few weeks ago when the church council has suggested the parson consider putting, “We are an inclusive church,” on the sign out front.

And then the parson thought of the little class he'd just finished teaching. He'd been trying to make a point about land displacement in the Holy Land, from the time of the Israelite occupation of the Canaanite land to the Jewish occupation of the land in recent history. Trying to make a point he asked one of the members of the church how long his farm had been in his family.

“Oh, gracious Parson,” the member had said, “over a hundred years.”

“Since 1830?” the parson asked.

“Well, that would be about right,” said the member.

“So your family took possession when the Cherokees were forced upon the Trail of Tears?”

“That's right.”

“Well, suppose,” the parson suggested, “the United Nations passed a resolution saying that our country had been wrong in that removal and you had to return you farm to the Cherokee nation?”

The parson waited for the reply, expecting some real agony from the member as he wrestled with the complexity of the situation. What the parson got instead was this:

'Well, I'd rather them get it that those blacks.”

Ten steps forward and nine steps backward?

This Is A Pop Test?

The parson had just popped the trunk of his hybrid and begun placing the groceries he'd just purchased inside.

“Hello, Parson, how are things with you?”

The parson turned to behold a young man whom he did not recognize.

“Things are well with me,” he said. “I'm sorry; do we know each other?”

“Ah, no, no we don't know each other. But I've heard of you. And I've heard of that church where you're the pastor. Friend of mine told me you folks have what you call an “inclusive” church.”

“We try to be inclusive,” said the parson.

“Inclusive. Well, what's that mean. Does that mean you let foreigners worship there?”

“Foreigners?”

“Yeah, foreigners. Them illegals. Are they welcome to worship there?”

“We don't ask for documentation at the door,” said the parson.

“Bet you don't. And I heard that homos are welcome there. That true, too?”

“The doors are open to everyone.”

“Yeah, well you realize you're only encouraging illegals and you're condoning a sin that is an abomination in the eyes of the Lord.”

“The doors are open to everyone.”

“I bet. So, you're telling me it's okay if I come to your church and worship with the low life?”

The parson stared at the man a moment. “The door is open to everyone,” he said.

“Right,” said the man. “Tell you what, I'll see you next Sunday.”

The parson finished placing his groceries in the trunk. He closed the lid and then slid in behind the wheel. He cranked the car, but before taking the car out of park he looked up and the cloudless sky and said, “This is a pop test, right?”

Inclusive Means You and Yours

The parson had checked the doors of the church. Everything was locked. Now he exited through the fellowship hall, the door easiest to secure because of the absence of a deadbolt. Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion exited with him and promptly scurried across the parking lot to sit beside the left rear door of the car, waiting the opening.

The parson was halfway between the door and his car when Edwin Merchant called out.

“Hey, Parson, got a minute?”

“Hey, Edwin,” said the parson; I thought you would have been gone by now.”

“Tell you the truth, Parson, I hung around a bit to talk to you.”

“Talk about what?” asked the parson as he opened the door to the car to allow Charlie Brown to jump in.

Edwin leaned against the rear fender of his Dodge Ram pickup and said, “Parson, you know everyone knows that you’re really big on this inclusive stuff. I mean, you mention it often in church meetings: ‘We have to be an inclusive church’ and such. Well, Parson, don’t you think we can carry this inclusive stuff too far?”

“Are we having a conversation about being inclusive or being exclusive, Edwin?” the parson asked.

“You do get to the point, Parson. Okay, look, I don’t mean any offense at anything you’re doing around here. I pretty much go along with just about all you suggest. But when you carry this inclusive stuff as far as it seems you’d be willing to carry it, well, gracious, Parson, just imagine the folks the pews would be filled with on Sunday.”

The parson smiled. “Edwin, would you be offended if I got a little personal with you?”

Edwin wrinkled his brow. He stared at the parson a moment and then replied, “No, I guess not. Why?”

“How’s Roger?” asked the parson.

“Roger? You mean my brother?”

“Yes, Roger, your brother; the one who’s been spending more time at the American Legion than he does at home each evening?”

“Well, that’s a hell of a question, Parson.”

“It is, Edwin. And how’s Howard?”

“Howard?”

“Yes, Howard, whose in the jail for drug use and maybe distribution.”

“Damn, Parson, you’re getting a little personal.”

“I am, Edwin, I am. And I want you to know that despite the fact that Howard and Roger have not been on their best behavior I know that they are still family to you. I know that despite their problems you love them. But I want you to know something else, Edwin.”

“What’s that, Parson?”

“I want you to know that every one of those-fallen-from-grace relatives of yours are welcome here at this church. They’re welcome, Edwin, because they are part of your family, and because they are part of your family they are part of ours. And that’s why we’re an inclusive church, Edwin. We’re inclusive so we can include you and your kin folks.”