Americana and God

[Americana and God is a satire about the adventures of a group of persons whose faith leads them to search for the resurrected messiah. This excerpt comes just short of halfway through their journey.]

09. THE ~~RAVEN'S~~ DOVE'S FLIGHT . . . FAITH? . . . WORDS TO

LIVE BY

Somehow the dove still just sat there, a serene look on its aviary face. It was looking at Dem mostly, its head cocked, its short beak closed. Westmoreland opened the driver's door, leaned in, and put the pistol back under the seat. He slammed the door back shut. It was undisturbed.

"Do you have a permit for that?" Sue asked, pointing at the gun.

"Now what?" I asked.

"We follow the bird," Dem said.

"Where?" I asked.

"If I knew, Thomas, I'd just go there," he said.

Sid, who was leaning against the passenger side of the SUV (the far side from the whole incident), was mumbling to himself. Sue didn't know what to do with herself, either; she threw up her hands in exasperation and walked towards the SUV, squeezing past Westmoreland to get to the back door on the driver's side. She and Sid both climbed inside and sat, sulking.

I scratched my head. This was quickly going from an interesting quest to a very surreal crusade. I wasn't sure exactly at what point it had happened or why Dem was suddenly entranced by a bird—or why suddenly he knew what to do. Then again, I guess that's why he was the Prophet and not me. I wasn't the one hearing voices and seeing omens or looking for the reborn-Christ. I looked down at my mini-tape recorder. It was still going. Westmoreland and Dem were talking. I was tuning them out. The tape recorder would get it. What the hell was happening?

"Let's go," Dem said quietly, putting his hand on my shoulder. The physical contact broke my reverie. I shook my head, blinking, and looked up at him.

"Where to?" I asked.

"We're going to follow the dove," he said.

"Okay," I said, shaking my head again, as if trying to wake up. "Okay."

Westmoreland was climbing into the driver's seat.

"I think if we all get in, the bird will start to move," Dem said.

I looked back at my rental car. "Okay," I said again. I started fishing for my keys in my pocket.

"You can come with us," Dem said.

I looked up at him. "Are you sure there's room?"

Dem looked straight at me, blinking. "Look at it," he said, holding his arm out.

"You're right," I said. "You're right. Just let me get a few things out of my car."

Dem nodded and trotted over to the passenger side and opened the front door, climbing in. Westmoreland looked at me impatiently as Dem explained that I was joining them.

I pulled out my keys, opened the passenger side door, and sat down, leaving the door open. I stopped the tape that was running and pulled it out. It was almost done. I reached onto the floor of the back seat and pulled out a small satchel, the kind that was slung over one shoulder, and hung by the opposite, crossing in front of and behind your torso. I unzipped the top and dropped the tape in. I opened an inner pocket and pulled out one of the fresh tapes. My hand hovered over the inner compartment. I wondered how many tapes to bring, but then decided just to bring the whole bag. I closed the inner pocket and zipped up the outer layer. Letting the bag sit in my lap, I inserted the one tape into the recorder. Taking the satchel with me, I got up and locked the door, closing it behind me.

By the time I jumped into the SUV next to Sue, pushing her into the middle, the Prophet was as impatient as Westmoreland to move. The big man started his truck.

I started the recorder again.

Dem was leaning forward, trying to look for signs of the dove moving. Westmoreland unrolled his window and looked out, craning his neck to look up at the roof of the building. He waved his hand vaguely. "Go," he said, as if the bird was listening to him in particular.

"Don't force it," Dem said.

Sue and I exchanged glances.

His face smashed against the side back-side window, Sid was the first to see it move. "There," he said, pointing with impotent ambiguity. "It's moving."

"See?" Westmoreland said, shooting a quick glance at Dem. “It heard.”

With only that small pause to gloat, Westmoreland jerked the vehicle backwards, caught the tires, and spun back forward too fast. We were all jostled forward, then back, hitting the backs of our seats, held stable only by the thin belts at our waists. Dem and Sid had their windows down now and were leaning out them, braving the suddenly seemingly fast-moving mist, quickly soaking themselves, but keeping an eye on the bird. Even Sue was trying to follow it from her awkward non-window position.

"Do you want to trade seats?" I asked her.

She shook her head, her eyes still trying to find the bird, adjusting her glasses.

Even Westmoreland was crouched over the steering wheel, dangerously letting his eyes linger on the dove and not so much on the road. That was good, I thought; no need to do that. Then again, we were authorized agents of God. Why would He/She/It let us get in a car wreck?

It was rather hard for me to see, but it seemed that the dove was flying at a fairly level plane. It could have been cutting across parking lots and people's backyards, but it seemed to be leading us down the road, as if we were carpooling. When we hit a red light, the bird would perch on top of the traffic light. Before it even turned green, it would get up and start flying, building speed. And every time, Westmoreland and Dem would start to freak out, thinking that in the airborne-gray liquid miasma and suddenly dense traffic that they would lose their aviary miracle, somehow forgetting each time that that was what the dove had done at the last red light: as if the mist and other cars were blocks put there specifically by the great Adversary to stop us (hell, maybe that's why the SUV got poor gas mileage too – blame it all on Satan).

As it was, we didn't have that far too go. The dove perched atop a fence outside of a large church. If Dem and Westmoreland had fretted about the traffic before, it was even more crowded here, as people were just starting to file in for the late morning mass. Westmoreland swerved into the parking lot, driving right to the back of the lot where there were open spaces, not wanting to waste time looking for one. Everyone, myself included, jumped out, walking quickly in a sort of half-jog, toward where the bird was. I slung the bag over my shoulder, letting it hang at my side, more towards my rear, tape recorder in hand.

We stopped near the entrance of the parking lot, perhaps twenty feet from the church entrance. The dove had jumped off of a small fence before a small patch of landscaping: an earthy birm, scattered with flowers and assorted small green-leaving plants. It had hopped to the ground, eating small seeds that a middle-aged woman was tossing towards it.

"What are you doing?" Westmoreland asked her.

"Oh, hello, gentlemen," she said. "I'm feeding this beautiful bird."

"We can see that -- " Westmoreland started, before Dem touched his shoulder softly.

"Do you always bring seeds to church?" Sid asked.

"Well, no," the woman laughed. "But you see, my husband took our two sons to the basketball game in Toronto today, so they went to church last night. When I go to church by myself, I like to stay after church and feed the birds that usually fly about on the rear property. I just happened to see this bird here and it looked hungry, so I decided to feed it before church."

"Well -- " Dem's touch cut off Westmoreland again.

"Did you know the dove is a sign of peace and the Holy Spirit?" the woman said.

"We sure did," Sue said.

The woman made a tsking sound, rebuking Sue's quick sarcasm, shaking her head.

"My name's Dem," the Prophet said.

"This is Westmoreland, Sid, Susie, and Thomas."

"My name is Mary," the woman said. "I take it Westmoreland is your last -- "

"Mary?" Dem and Sid said at the same time.

"Why yes," the woman, Mary, said.

"That's a very special name," Dem said.

"I was blessed by my mother with such a holy name," Mary said, smiling. She threw more seeds down at the dove; it kept consuming them greedily.

"Interesting," Sid mused.

Dem shot him a look.

"How soon does the mass start?" Sue asked her, nodding towards the church.

"Oh, not for another ten or fifteen minutes," the woman said. "That's why I stopped to feed the bird. I like arriving early so I can sit up front."

There was silence for a moment. The only sounds besides the voices of people walking into the church around us were the dove's feet clicking on the sidewalk and a soft clicking sound of seeds being crunched.

"It's kind of funny," Dem began. "We actually followed the bird here."

"Followed it here?" Mary asked.

"Yes," he said. "What you said about it being a bird of peace, and the Holy Spirit?"

"Uh, huh," she said, nodding, narrowing her eyes.

"In this instance," Dem continued. "I tend to take that as a very literal statement."

"How exactly do you mean?" Mary asked.

"Well. I think it's a messenger of God. Directly."

She looked at each and every one of us. Our stone faces tipped her off that he was not joking. I held out the recorder.

"Well," she stuttered. "Well. I see. And what message exactly is it delivering?"

"It's supposed to lead us to the Son of God."

The woman looked up indignantly. "Excuse me?"

"It's supposed to lead us to the Son of God," Dem said.

"Well for His sake, maybe you should start looking in a Church," Mary said. "I don't know what you expect from this poor bird. Jesus will listen to anything you may have to say."

"Well, yes. Of course," Dem said. "But I mean it quite literally. I'm looking for the returned Messiah."

Mary made that tsking sound again, shaking her head.

"I'm not crazy," Dem said. "We're not crazy."

"Young man," she said to Dem, though she couldn't have been any more than ten years our senior—if that. "God sent his only son Jesus down to earth two-thousand years ago to save us from our sins and promised that he would return to judge us. I think you would know if he had returned."

"I would have agreed with you a few days ago, ma'am," Dem said. "But Thursday night I had a vision. Angels appeared to me.”

"Angels?" Sid said, frowning.

"Angel. One," Dem said, annoyed. "He told me to find the Messiah. He said I would find him in three days. This is the second day."

"That's a very interesting story," Mary said.

"It's not a story," Dem said. "You have to believe it."

"He's a prophet," Sue said, nodding.

Mary tsked at them again. "You should be careful what you say near the House of the Lord," she said. She leaned forward as if telling us a secret. "This is holy ground."

"That's why I'm glad to be here," Dem said. "The bird led us here, to a church."

Westmoreland shrugged. "Seems good enough."

"But why here?" I asked.

Everyone turned to me.

"What?" Dem asked.

"Well if Jesus was going to pop up somewhere obvious like a church, do you really think the Lord would need you to find him?"

"I hate to say it,” Sue said. “But he has a good point."

"Well, I never thought of that, Thomas," Dem admitted, scratching his head.

"You boys are serious, aren't you?" Mary asked.

"Very," Dem said.

"What you're doing isn't normal," she said.

"But what is normal?" Sid asked.

"Normal is believing that god is all-powerful and omnipresent. You don't need to go looking for him: he's everywhere. Normal is going to church every week. You can do your part by giving to the collection plate. Confess your sins to God. He will forgive you. You do not need to project your religious crises into any kind of physical quest. God does not talk to us directly, he whispers in our ears. He has his angels watching over our shoulders. He is an indirect, loving, good father. He allows free will. He doesn't send us running off on some kind of silly crusade."

"Projection. See?" Sid muttered.

Dem shot him a look before twisting back to face Mary, looking straight at her. "But he used to. The Bible’s full of stories like that."

"Those were very different times, son. The Bible is one time and we are in another. We all know that no one today is parting the Red Sea. No one now can turn sticks into snakes."

"But you believe he did then?" Sue asked.

"Of course, it's in the Bible," Mary said.

"So you trust the authority of the Bible completely?" I asked.

"Sweet Jesus," Mary said. "Of course I do. The Bible is the word of God, handed down to his prophets."

"So who's to say that he's not handing dopwn new word to Dem now?" I asked.

"Hunt -- Thomas is a journalist. He'll write the epistle," Sue said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You need to have more faith in God and patience that he will deliver you from your sins. Do not let your anxieties make you look for Him. He has already found you. You simply need to accept him," Mary said, tossing more seeds to the dove.

"But," Dem started.

"God is all-good and all-loving. You can base your life around him and live like him without actually searching for him. Just follow the Ten Commandments."

"I've always liked the Seven Deadly Sins better," I said, shrugging.

"What?" Westmoreland asked, whipping his head around to look at me.

The rest all turned to me, too. Again. At this point, I almost felt as if they were all bobbing-head dolls, their heads ricocheting off of their shoulders, bouncing towards Dem, towards Mary, now towards me.

"Living according to them always seemed to make more sense than living by the Ten Commandments," I said. "There's too many exceptions to the Ten Commandments."

"Blasphemy," Mary said, putting her hands on her hips.

"Why?" I asked. "They're part of God's message too, right?"

"God gave Moses his Ten Commandments and told us to keep them above all," Mary said.

"The Seven Deadly Sins?" Westmoreland said, his eyebrows furrowed deep on his brow. "Those aren't even rules, Thomas. They're vague, obscure definitions that don't instruct you how to live your life. The Ten Commandments do that."

Mary and Dem were nodding.

Sue and Sid shrugged. If neither of them were going to say anything, I certainly wasn’t going to push it. Why should I? I wasn’t the story, I was just a reporter.

"They’re definitely too confusing as to what exactly they mean, Thomas. Most people don't want to have to guess on something so important," Dem said.

"Yeah, people want to be told the rules," Westmoreland added.

"God gave us all our life. Our friends' lives, our families' lives," Mary said.

"Discounting, of course, the sexual act that made each of us who we are -- "

Mary’s eyes widened. "You will not talk like that on God's property!" she demanded, cutting Sid off.

"But that's where -- " Sid tried to continue.

"The flawed, sinful physical body comes from married union, yes,” Mary said. “But life is not possible without the soul, interjected at the moment of conception, left to nurture just as the infant body itself. And God certainly gave us the decency to not talk about things like that."

"Sid's a doctor," Dem tried to explain, not wanting to lose God’s grace. "A psy -- "

"I don't care who he is. He should have more respect than to speak with such a foul mouth on this property," Mary said.

"So people should act differently on the property of church?" I asked.

"Of course," Mary said, shaking her head affirmatively. "It's common decency."

"So they can behave sinful elsewhere?" Sue asked.

"Of course not," Mary said.

"Then why do you have to be especially good here?" I asked.

"It's hallowed ground," Dem said, trying not to lose Mary’s favor, either.

"But if you are supposed to follow God's laws at all times, what exactly are you doing differently here?" I persisted.

"Enough of your questions, you doubting Thomas," Mary said.

"I don't really doubt anything, miss,” I said. “I just report what I see."

"And I think you try to ask too many questions, just trying to find something to report. Trying to make something out of nothing. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I need to get into mass. It should be starting soon. You might be joining me if you were all smart. You need to understand that God is everywhere. You do not need to blaspheme Him by looking for him in any one place or person. Read the Bible, go to mass. Follow his laws in everything you do. Live your life according to Jesus. Now good-bye and God bless you."

The five of us watched her walk away.

"That was fun," Sue said.

"Where's the dove?" Dem asked, suddenly realizing that his Holy Spirit-guide was gone.

"Goddammit," Westmoreland said.

"Oh shit," Sid said at the same time.

"Where'd it go?" Dem said, looking from side to side, starting to panic. "Where'd it go?"

We all started to flank out, looking around. I was looking back towards the parking lot. I'm sure Sid would say that my unconscious was yearning to return to the SUV and get the hell out of here. I don't think he'd be far off if that had been what he had said.

"There!" Westmoreland said. "I got it. Atop the church."

We all looked up at the huge cross sitting atop the front of the church, protruding up and over the roof. The dove was perched there. Squinting, I could swear it was laughing at us.

"It wants us to go in," Dem said.

"To sit through mass?" Sue asked.

"Let's go in," Dem said.

Sid shrugged and started walking towards the entrance.

"Whatever you say, Dem," Westmoreland said.

I looked at Sue. She was skaking her head. I guessed we were going in.