Idolatria Ch. 00-01

"So... yes! How wonderful, how great is God!" he was saying breathlessly. He came out from behind the altar and joined Jeff at the small table that was set out on communion Sundays, laid with a silver cup and a loaf of bread with a white cloth napkin over it. The pastor before Len had been partial to the tiny bread cubes and thimble-sized cups of juice that were customary at many churches, but our congregation had switched to this method when he retired - a way of receiving the sacrament that was, in my opinion, more intimate and less manufactured. As the organ hummed back to life, the people in the pews stood, and I stepped out to take my place off to the side of the steps.

As I walked, I looked back at the rear of the sanctuary... Between the rising bodies, I saw that the strange man in black had not stood up with us. It seemed he was forgoing this as well.

Pastor Len's voice snapped me back to earth. "Heavenly Father, as You invite us to Your table on this day... We pray to be renewed in Your holy spirit; Father, we pray..."

I stood and kept my head bowed in prayer like everyone else, my hands folded in front of me, as Pastor Len went on. He dragged on a bit with the call to the table, like all things, but I genuinely enjoyed the ritual of it all. Still, I couldn't help the vision of the man in the back pew intruding into my mind.

"... and that the Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took the bread and broke it, and said, 'This is my body, given for you. Take it and eat, in remembrance of me.'" At this, Pastor Len tore the loaf of bread in two, gave half to Jeff beside him, and instead lifted the silver cup. "In the same way, he also took the cup and said, 'This is the covenant of my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.'

"We now invite our congregation to come forward and receive communion. Come, and renew, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ."

Amidst a solemn song from the organ, people filed out of the pews and organized themselves into a line. The concept was that you would come down, tear off a piece of bread from the loaf that Pastor Jeff was holding (while he said the usual blessing), then turn and dip the bread in the cup that pastor Len held (with a similar blessing).

But our congregation was aging, and there were those who couldn't really stand in line to receive communion. Before I had volunteered, there was an older lady who brought some bread and a smaller cup to people who were sitting down. Now she was one of the ones I helped. Pastor Len smiled at me as I came forward, handed me my cup and a quarter of bread, and let me go off to assist.

I was friendly with the three or so people who needed my help. The old volunteer, Mrs. Carmine, who still gave me birthday cards with a couple dollars in them every year; George, whose knees had gone bad after a lifetime of construction work; and sweet little Felicity Melrose, who carried a white miniature poodle in her lap - a poodle with fur that matched its owner's wispy, curly hair. Mrs. Melrose had an electric scooter too big to fit in the pews, so she sat at the end of one, all the way in the back, and she gave me a grateful, shaky smile when I knelt on the ground beside her.

"The body of Christ, broken for you," I said quietly, and held out each thing in turn as she carefully tore off a piece of bread and dipped it in the juice. "The blood of the covenant, poured out for you and for many..."

"Thank you, Asher," she whispered back, and patted my head as if I were another poodle - I let her. I rocked to my feet and was about to take my own communion and head back to my seat, when I was stopped in my tracks.

The man in the back pew was still sitting in the same way that he had been the entire time. I'd noticed this when communion started, but now, I was in a different position... He was only in the next aisle, and I found myself suddenly in the position to do something.

Only earlier that morning, I had told Marc that we were supposed to be welcoming to people. And that maybe, just maybe, this man needed someone to reach out. Now here I was. Before I realized it, I was walking around the back of the pews, to the center of the aisle where he was closest.

When I approached, he turned his face to look at me - only a fraction of an inch at first, but then entirely, so that our eyes locked. He didn't seem shocked that I was walking towards him... If anything, he looked somehow intrigued. But aside from that, he didn't move. I felt my heart beating hard in my chest, a little nervous to be so forward. But someone had to do this. If not me, then who? And so, level with the strange man, I knelt at his side at the end of the pew.

"Good morning," I said in a low voice, smiling warmly at him. I held out the torn-up piece of bread. "Take some. The body of Christ, broken for you."

It was odd to see him from this angle - face to face, slightly below him, so that his eyes peered down at me over slim dark circles. His mouth twitched into a smile, and then, in a deep, silky voice, he said, "No, thank you."

My own smile faltered slightly, but I held my ground. It wasn't an outright refusal. He wasn't ridiculing me... Or was he? If he was, he was being very polite about it. "It's just... It's bread and grape juice," I explained, wondering for a moment if he knew what I was offering him. "We take communion to remember the sacrifice of the Savior -"

"No, thank you," he repeated. His tone didn't change, but the smile got ever so incrementally wider.

I felt lost now. I hadn't planned in my head for a situation in which he said no. Why hadn't I planned? Instead, I found more words spilling out of my mouth. "If you have a dietary restriction or - or an allergy or something, we have rice wafers you can eat instead -"

This got a reaction out of him. He laughed. Quietly, politely, his arms unfolding... he laughed at me. "Gluten-free Body of Christ?" he said. "That's very progressive of you. Still... No, thank you."

This, I assumed, was the end of it. I'd have to just give up and leave him alone. But I didn't get that far. Instead, he leaned forward, lowering his face to mine so that we were mere inches apart, his hair falling and brushing his hard cheekbones, and he whispered to me.

"But I adore how eager you are to serve."

Something pulled tight inside of me, strings in my abdomen yanking at something around my navel... I felt the blood drain from my face in the strangest way, and I could only stare back at this man as he drew upright in his seat, a playful smirk on his lips.

"What?"

But if he heard me, he didn't show it, and my weak word was drowned in the final rising notes from the organ before the music ceased entirely and plunged us into silence. I don't know how long it was before I realized I was still kneeling, and scrambled to my feet unsteadily, very nearly spilling the grape juice in my hurry to get back where I was needed.

Pastor Len was finishing his recital of the sacrament as I dunked bread in juice and stuffed it into my mouth - not really the intimate, quiet communion I wanted, but we were past that point. By the time I got back to my seat, we were erupting into the final song of the service, and I was too flustered to find the right page in the hymnal. Beside me, Dan hissed "What was all that about?" My mother shushed him.

I wished I had an answer for him. If the man had wanted to rile me up, he accomplished it - but I wasn't angry, only confused. What had he meant by that?

More importantly, what did he want?

*****

~ A/N: Welcome to Idolatria! If you're here because you followed my previous work Hematoma, I hope you enjoy my new endeavor. This story is going to be much more pleasant. Nothing supernatural, unfortunately, but hopefully you'll like it regardless. If you've never heard of me before... Good! I hope you enjoy anyway! Thanks as always. - Asbel