Comfort and Affliction

by Michael Frosolono

  Most of the congregants seemed to be paying attention to Eric’s words; no one had walked out of the sanctuary. “Christ’s resurrection secured victory in the war against evil. Clearing out pockets of resistance remains a formidable task; nevertheless, Christ—speaking through St. John the Divine or St. John of Patmos in the Book of Revelation—assures us of complete victory with unconditional surrender of our great enemy.

  “In the arena of civil rights under our secularly noble U.S. Constitution, great battles resulted in our war against inherited privilege. Nevertheless, significant opposition exists in some parts of our society. For instance, we still must deal with the role inherited wealth plays in the debilitating aspects of economic injustice. Even so, we anticipate ultimate victory as we fight to subdue the last vestiges of inequality based upon unequal application of the law.

  “I have no way of determining if racial overtones or simply the immaturity associated with teenage hormonal influences were the primary cause of the unfortunate events this past Tuesday. Probably a mixture of both contributed. Regardless, I do know the way we Christians speak and act will be the determining factors in how the citizens of our town react to this event. Will we continue our march to victory or will we become enmeshed in a pocket of resistance?

  “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

  A forceful Amen started Eric. Taliaferro rose to his feet and vigorously clapped his hands; soon more people applauded. Eric could not evaluate the proportion of the congregation who stood in concert with Taliaferro or simply to sing the recessional hymn. He made a mental note to ask Mary how many first-time visitors had filled out pew cards.

  After the service, the editor of The Alexander County Messenger, Joan Mitchell, interviewed Eric for what she termed “a biographical article, an introduction to the people in Alexander Country.” Near the end of the interview, Joan switched off her tape recorder and put down her pen and notepad.

  “Reverend Jameson, I appreciate you taking the time for this interview, but my trained journalistic senses tell me you’re holding back something.”

  “Do you have anything specific in mind?”

  “I don’t think you’re a closet pervert or that you have a criminal history.”

  “I am not, and I don’t.”

  “I’m guessing you’ve been less than forthcoming about your military service.”

  “My years of service are part of the public record.”

  “I did some research, and I’m reacting purely as a journalist. First, I don’t doubt your status as an American hero.”

  “But?”

  “The publicly available information about your military career is beyond sparse in some critical details. I don’t guess you’d like to comment?”

  Eric asked, “Do you by any chance come from a military family?”

  “My father was killed in Vietnam.”

  “So you’re familiar with the idea that sometimes the military can’t participate in full disclosure?”

  “I’d like to think concealing the truth was more a characteristic of the CIA.”

  “I can’t say any more and I trust you not to bring up the issue in the article you publish.”

  “You have my word: nothing in The Messenger, nothing from my lips, pen or computer.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I have a request.”

  “Which is?”

  “If you ever decide on a full-disclosure biography, I’d like for you to consider letting me help you write it.”

  Although Eric realized a complete account of his military exploits would be highly unlikely to be published in the open press any time soon, he said, “I’ll give the idea my full consideration.”

  Joan laughed. “I won’t hold my breath.” She stood up to leave Eric’s office. “I and many others are glad to have you with us.”

  “I’m happy to be among you.”

  The article resulting from Joan Mitchell’s interview with Eric appeared in the next edition of The Alexander County Messenger:

  We benefit from the large number of military men and women who have retired to this area. All of these warriors had distinguished military careers, and many of them have transferred that ideal of service to involvement in local politics, helping in our schools, participating in organizations such as Lions Clubs and other forms of community activity.

  Reverend Eric Jameson, the pastor of Aldersgate United Methodist Church in Vickery, typifies that ideal. He retired from the U.S. Army as a Medal of Honor recipient with the rank of colonel. His Medal of Honor citation speaks to his intrepidity and conspicuous bravery under fire in action at the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan. Jameson, while a major, led a team of highly specialized warriors who disrupted enemy activities and gained valuable intelligence for the U.S. and other coalition forces. Major Jameson’s covering fire as a rear guard allowed the rest of his team to reach safety, although he was seriously wounded at the end of the battle. This heroic action established the rationale for Major Jameson’s Medal of Honor and his subsequent promotion to colonel.

  Colonel Jameson testifies that while he recovered from his wounds at the Walter Reed Medical, an epiphany propelled him into the ministry. He retired from the Army, graduated from the Chandler School of Theology at Emory University, and was an Assistant Pastor at Athens First United Methodist Church before his assignment to Aldersgate United Methodist Church here in Vickery.

  Reverend Jameson says that he exchanged his Kevlar armor and “battle rattle” for the full armor of God. He wants to help his congregation revitalize and move forward into the 21st century.

  Reverend Jameson is a native Georgian, born in LaGrange. He is unmarried and the last surviving member of his immediate family. “At this time in my life, my comrades and my brothers and sisters in the faith are my true family,” Reverend Jameson said.

  Eric spent the rest of the summer and early fall without intentionally eliciting much controversy with his sermons. He directed the bulk of his ministry to becoming better acquainted with his congregants and comforting the afflicted who were shut-ins or patients at the City-Country Hospital. He began visiting his congregants in their homes, always first having Mary set up the times for his visits, usually in the early evenings. He occasionally was invited to evening meals when Mary arranged the family visits. Eric joined the local Lions Club and was quickly appointed chaplain. The local ministerial association welcomed him to its monthly meetings. He was invited to preach at the Fifth Sunday Night Service at the First Baptist Church.

  The Aldersgate congregation grew steadily in both attendance at the Sunday worship services and new members from a wide spectrum of occupations, age, and political and theological beliefs. Eric characterized most of the new people, many of who were ex-military, as more progressively inclined in their politics and theology. He was especially gratified that several young families with children joined the Aldersgate congregation.

  Eric and Allison continued to meet most weekday mornings in Jean’s Coffee Shop. They developed an easy relationship that seemed to be progressing beyond friendship. Eric sensed Allison wanted more out of the relationship but that she hesitated to move toward explicit affection. While he was impatient for a deeper relationship, his instincts told him not to press Allison.

  Miz Lizbeth frequently invited Eric and Allison to dinners at the Andrews home. Many of Miz Lizbeth’s business and political allies also attended these dinners, but she always managed to have Eric and Allison sit together at the large dining room table. Eric usually drove Allison, sometimes accompanied by Joseph, to these dinners. Joseph did not seem awed by the adult conversations and often offered his opinions. Eric was not surprised at the way Joseph handled himself because, in addition to his native intelligence, the boy had been raised in the company of a highly intelligent and well-spoken adult. He seemed naturally to have incorporated adult speech patterns and behavior.

  Eric had many of the same thoughts about Cathy Stockman. Wh
en he visited with Big Al and Sister Ruth or interacted with Cathy and Joseph, Eric observed that she spoke and behaved much like an adult, in common with Joseph. Big Al’s facility with the English language and sometimes his ministerial cadence showed up in Cathy’s speech patterns. Eric was sure that Cathy, like Joseph, retained many teenage characteristics, even if they did not often surface. He suspected Joseph and Cathy probably behaved more like teenagers than adults in adolescent bodies when they were alone.

  CHAPTER 15

  Monday, 08 September

  Eric finished the last bite of the bacon, provolone cheese, lettuce, onion, and tomato sandwich he had prepared for lunch when his iPhone announced an incoming call. The caller ID identified Mary as the person contacting him on his day off. “Hey, Mary. Is there a problem?”

  “A situation requires your ministerial attention.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Do you know Linda Rollins? She’s a tall, blond attractive lady with three stair-step sons. The family’s on your visitation schedule for later this month.”

  “Ms. Rollins and her sons sit about midway in the sanctuary to my left. The boys don’t fidget. She must have them under firm control.”

  “As you might expect from a military family.”

  Eric’s blood ran cold. “No.”

  “The family received a visit earlier today from two Army officers in dress blue uniforms. Master Sergeant Phillip Rollins has been killed in action in Afghanistan. He and Linda grew up in this church; the boys were baptized here.”

  “The two men would be a casualty notification officer and a chaplain. Please text me the address and the names of the three sons. I’ll go to the home ASAP.”

  “Good.”

  “Did Ms. Rollins call requesting a visit?”

  “Not yet.”

  “How did you find out about Master Sergeant Rollins?”

  “I keep telling you, nothing much can be kept private in a small town like Vickery. The family needs our support.”

  “I’m on my way as soon as I receive your text.”

  “Good. The family will appreciate a ministerial visit from a former soldier. You should receive the text in a few minutes.”

  Time for me to be even more comforting, Eric said to himself.

  A tall, muscular boy, who looked to be about Joseph’s age, answered the doorbell. For a moment, he seemed surprised to see Eric. “Reverend Jameson, please come in.” The boy opened the door to admit Eric.

  Eric offered his hand. “Phillip, I’m terribly sorry to hear about your father.”

  Phillip gravely shook hands with Eric. “Dad told us what could happen over there.”

  “No adequate preparation exists for this kind of loss.” Eric saw moisture form in the boy’s eyes while he struggled to maintain his serious demeanor.

  “I guess not.”

  “Is your mother at home?”

  “Yes, sir. She’s upstairs in her bedroom. I’ll get her.”

  “I can come back rather than disturb her at this time.”

  Phillip turned to go up the nearby stairs. “Please stay. Mom will want to see you.” For a brief moment, the boy almost lost his composure, his voice revealing the inner struggle. “I’ll also get my brothers. All of us need you.”

  In a few minutes, Phillip returned with his mother and two younger brothers. He led everyone into the living room where John Luke and Frank sat beside their mother on the couch. Phillip went around the couch to stand behind his mother, who covered the hand he placed on her shoulder with one of her own. Eric sat opposite the family.

  Eric said, “No words exist for me to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. Be assured the healing and comforting power of the Holy Spirit surrounds and supports you even in this time of tragedy.”

  Linda Rollins stifled a sob. “I only feel a great loss.”

  “You and your sons have indeed suffered a great loss.” While Eric’s ministerial training had taught him that simply being present at times of sorrow often provided important comfort to suffering individuals like the Rollins family, he felt the need to say something else. “St. Paul, speaking through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, told about one of God’s greatest promises: No circumstances exist under which we can be separated from God’s love in Jesus Christ. The promise applies to you, Phillip, John Luke, and Frank. And Master Sergeant Rollins benefits from the same promise, even now.”

  “You really believe what you just said, don’t you?” Phillip asked.

  “I do. I won’t talk about my own experiences on the battlefield other than to tell you the promise sustained me through the loss of several comrades. The promise will sustain you.”

  “Phillip, my husband, was on his second tour in Afghanistan. He had already served one tour in Iraq.” Linda squeezed her oldest son’s hand and looked in turn at the other two boys. “Phillip did his best to prepare us for what might happen.”

  “Nothing could adequately prepare you for the reality of his death,” Eric finished for her.

  “No.”

  “I will be here for you, as will the church. We’ll do our utmost to help you and the boys through this time.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If you can speak about it, do you know any details?”

  “Only that Phillip was killed in action, in a firefight with Taliban insurgents.”

  “Would you like for me to see if I can find out more details?”

  “Please, if you can.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Reverend Jameson,” the older son said, “we’ll want a military funeral. Won’t we, Mom?”

  “Yes,” Linda said. “Your father specified a military funeral, if he didn’t come back from Afghanistan.”

  “His wish will be fulfilled,” Eric said.

  “Will you conduct the service?” Linda asked.

  “Yes. The Army will send an honor guard. We’ll hold the funeral in the church and then go to the cemetery. Everything will take place with full military honors.”

  “Good.”

  “Do you have any word when Master Sergeant Rollins will come home?”

  Linda raised her eyebrows at Eric’s choice of words. “Probably by this weekend, the casualty notification officer said.”

  “We’ll hold the services as soon thereafter as you think best.”

  “There’s no need to prolong things.”

  Eric knelt on the floor before the couch, placing his hands within easy reach of Linda and the two younger boys. “Let us pray.” She grasped Eric’s hands with a tight grip. Soon the two boys beside her placed their hands on top of the adults’ hands. Phillip leaned forward to add one hand. “Almighty God, we rely upon receiving the full blessings and comfort of the Holy Spirit to help us go forward through this awful time with the calm assurance of never being separated from your love in Jesus Christ. Help us to live with the confidence this family will be joined together again upon our resurrection when Jesus Christ comes to put an end to all death and suffering. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.”

  Even the younger boys understood the ritual, because the entire family responded with soft Amens.

  CHAPTER 16

  Tuesday, 09 September

  Early the next morning, Ralph Whitfield placed a call on one of his disposable cell phones in the privacy of his Cadillac Escalade. An irritated voice heavy with malice answered. “I don’t like calls from people I don’t know, especially at this time of day.”

  “You’ll appreciate my call, Reverend Hathaway.”

  “Why?”

  “A funeral with full military honors will be held in Vickery, GA, this Monday at ten o’clock, in the white Methodist church, Aldersgate United.”

  “Why should I be interested?”

  “The deceased was well-known and respected in Vickery, sort of a local hero, beginning when he played football at the high school. They’re expecting a lot of people to come to the funeral. Be a great opportunity for you and your church to get t
he country’s attention.”

  “Perhaps this event could be interesting. How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  “You can verify what I’ve told you by going to the online edition of The Alexander County Messenger. They did a story on the deceased soilder a while back. Everything will be there except for one important fact.”

  “What fact might that be?”

  “The minister of the church sympathizes with faggots. He even supported gay rights from the pulpit. This sorry excuse for a minister served in the Army, a career soldier who has sold out to the liberals. I don’t even consider him a real American.”

  “You really have my interest.”

  “If you decide to bring your group here on Monday, I suggest you don’t put an announcement on your excellent website.”

  “Why?” Hathaway asked. “We don’t attempt to hide what we’re doing.”

  “Surprise might provide you with a bigger impact and also prevent the local law enforcement from making plans to inhibit your freedom of speech.”

  “What about the media? We’ll want them to know about our demonstrations.”

  “The media will be there. Like I told you, the dead soldier was something of a local hero. I’ll let my contacts at the local TV stations know they should be alert for a newsworthy event.”

  “When can we meet?”

  “Maybe after your demonstration. I’ll introduce myself.”

  “The True Word of God Baptist Church will be at the funeral in full force. You sound like someone I can trust. Don’t disappoint me.”

  “You won’t be disappointed; you’ll be pleased.”

  Chief Holderfield received a telephone call prompting him to close his office door. After the conversation ended, he went into the adjacent office where Captain Timmons sat behind his desk. “Let’s grab an early supper, Tiny.”

  “Something on your mind?”