A CONFEDERATE, STATIONED

By Ben Greenman

from forthcoming collection, as yet untitled

Yesterday afternoon the bishop performed a consecration ceremony for the new sanctuary on Family Street. He began, of necessity, in the adjoining churchyard, welcoming the congregation, which stood outside in the rain, not one of them complaining, after which he led the group to the door of the new church, knocking three times and stepping back as it opened as if by magic. Once inside, he visited each region of the building, moving his hands in an enclosing gesture, clearing the space of unholiness. He then invited the members of the congregation to take their seats and, ascending to the pulpit, delivered a sermon based on the thirty-first verse of the first chapter of the Book of Avowal: “We have within us life’s mainsprings, work and play and love. They operates in times of war and bring us peace, but in times of peace we risk forgetting them. Let us never forget. Let us not consign them to the scrap-heap of ‘feeling good’ or ‘entertainment’ or any other category that does not acknowledge their centrality to the entire human experience, still and forever an experiment we perform and hope for the best.” Refreshments were then served in a small reception in the narthex. The bishop, three glasses of wine deep, revealed that he had stationed a confederate just inside the church door to open it when he knocked.