Pride House: The Quest for Vainglory

by Rob Summers

Chapter 39 Fleeting Fame

  On Sunday morning Pride slipped out early to drive to the Mammon Mart Church. He wanted to have plenty of time to talk with Pastor Hypocrisy before the service at nine, so as to make sure of returning to Grace House for the wedding at ten.

  After knocking gingerly on the door of the pastor’s office, he was answered by Hypocrisy himself. But the pastor did not open the door more than a few inches, as if he were hiding the interior, and he peered out with a bothered, angry expression. Pride saw in his eyes neither friendliness nor, surprisingly, recognition.

  “We’re having the pre-service meeting of the worship leaders,” Hypocrisy said curtly. “We’ll be done at ten till nine.”

  “But this is just what I wanted,” said Pride. “Let me join the meeting. I want to discuss the earlier time for my acceptance speech and make sure that I’m—”

  “You’re jumping the gun. You’re not even a deacon yet, and certainly not a worship leader. Is it me you want to see?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Then I’ll try to have a minute with you before the service. Wait out here.”

  The door snapped shut.

  No chair was in the little hallway outside the office, but Pride was too nervous to sit anyway. He wondered now if Confusion had failed to deliver the message after all, either due to her natural vacuousness or out of spite for having been evicted from his house. The talk he was about to have with Hypocrisy might be the first word the pastor would hear on the subject, and only minutes before the start of the service. It was all so stiff and unreasonable. But surely, his cousin would not be so difficult to deal with? He would go call Grace House quickly and ask Reason, for his sake, to postpone the wedding until he should arrive. She had said there would be no wedding without him, had she not? Did she love him or not?

  He did not move. What if the leaders’ meeting should break up while he was away at the phone? He had Hypocrisy cornered now, and with a promise to discuss matters with him. The pastor had told him to wait there. He must not lose the precious few moments of Hypocrisy’s time that had been promised him. If need be, he would make the phone call later. He waited where he was told.

  A doorless opening in the hallway let out directly onto the rear of the sanctuary, so Pride was able to observe the arrival of worshipers. Confusion and Tedium came together and took seats uncomfortably near Pride’s vantagepoint. He did not want them to see him, since they had been thrown out of his house. Then he remembered that Confusion could tell him whether she had given his message to Hypocrisy. Perhaps he should ask her. But would he get a clear answer? Did she herself know? It was ten till nine. He would know soon anyway. Unless—unless the leaders’ meeting lasted right up to the hour. What if there was no time to speak to the pastor at all?

  As the pews filled, he recognized more people. Mammonette came in supporting her ancient husband, the ailing Mr. Mammon. Arrogance appeared, and so did Selfishness and Worry, arm in arm. Mr. Influence could be seen talking with Mrs. Disdain while Mr. Pretense hovered in the background. All heads turned as Vainglory made her entrance. She glanced around as if expecting to see Pride, then fell into conversation with Beauty and Fashion. Finally, and to his surprise, his own parents appeared, also evidently looking for him. They apparently intended to surprise him by being present at his moment of glory.

  Pride looked at his watch. Five minutes till nine. He simply must go call Reason immediately. But miraculously the doorknob was turning, and out from the office came the worship leaders: first the elders Reputation, Disdain, and Tradition: then the deaconess Mrs. Faith who, Pride recalled, was really named Good Works and was an accomplished actress. At this distance, however, he could see plainly that she was not Faith, if only by her simpering look of self-satisfaction. Mr. Power was next to emerge. He was church treasurer, and rightly enough, for his own money did much to maintain the place. To Pride’s surprise, Power nodded to him, even favored him with one of his rare smiles, and passed on. At last Pastor Hypocrisy stepped smartly out, his Bible in his hand and a look of simple, manly sincerity about him. He greeted Pride warmly.

  “The place for you, my friend, is on the platform in that small pew on the side.”

  “Excuse me, pastor, did you get my message?”

  “What message was that?”

  “The message I left with Miss Confusion,” Pride said desperately, “that I need to make my acceptance speech early in the service in order to make it to my cousin’s wedding at ten.”

  Hypocrisy fixed him with a look of tender contempt. “The service is beginning. There’s no time for a change now. Your part comes quite naturally at the end after my sermon on the responsibilities of youth to assume church leadership. Don’t look at me so hang doggedly now. As a future minister of the gospel, you will have to get used to missing out on family occasions when duty calls. What’s the problem, anyway? I saw the announcement of your cousin’s wedding in the paper, but I never thought of it as a conflict. Frankly, I’m surprised you’d want to attend.”

  “Surprised?” Pride said stupidly.

  Hypocrisy exhaled suddenly with a hint of laughter. “I mean, considering the man she’s marrying. A renegade street preacher who gets himself thrown in jail whenever the handouts are thin, so he can have meals and a bed at the taxpayers’ expense. You know, few people realize it, but he’s never been to a Bible college or seminary. No formal training at all. Well, he must consider himself well fixed with a place in your house and no need to hustle for a living any more.”

  Pride struggled to maintain a friendly face. “It’s not really my house anymore,” he said as evenly as he could.

  “Really? Well, we’ve no time to discuss that. I can only say that this scheduling conflict of yours is really a piece of luck. Since it happened by accident, you won’t offend your cousin; and you are also keeping your name out of any connection with the wedding. As a leader here, you’ll need to be sensitive to what associations might be offensive to the congregation. Not the man’s color, I mean, but his reputation.”

  “Are you telling me,” Pride asked with a restraint at which he himself marveled, “not to associate with Truth?”

  “Good Lord, no! What gave you that idea? I mean you musn’t appear to champion him and this church at the same time. Associate with him all you want; but not in a way that suggests you take his claims about himself seriously. Surely you’ve heard he claims to speak with the voice of God? That sort of thing may get him somewhere with the poor and uneducated, and perhaps he even does them some good, but it won’t do here.”

  Hypocrisy glanced to the front of the sanctuary. “It’s time to start. Come on now and I’ll show you where to sit. Your parents are here, did you know that? They’re very proud of you. They’ve been staying in a hotel, so you really must get them moved into your house as soon as possible, or it will look bad. You know how people talk.”

  As the pastor strode toward the altar, Pride hesitated a moment and then dashed into the vacated office, snatched up the phone and punched the buttons. He was shaking and practically in tears. Immediately someone answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Reason! It’s Pride. No time to talk. You’ve got to help me. I’m at the Mammon Church and making a fool of myself as usual. Quick, tell me what to do. I’m in trouble.”

  “Do you want to be rescued?” she asked.

  “What? Rescued? I—I guess so. But your wedding—”

  “Hang my wedding! We’re on the way!” She hung up.

  He put down the receiver and in a second was sprinting up the aisle toward the pulpit. He caught a glimpse of Fame, who smiled to see him. Then he was in his seat. A moment later everyone rose for the opening hymn.

  “Truth! Truth!”

  Reason was yelling his name in the corridor. Truth paused while fumbling with a cuff link and looked at Humility and Joy.

  “I’m not supposed to
see her before the wedding, am I?”

  But Reason burst in among the tuxedoed men and practically tackled her fiancé with a hug.

  “Easy now, you’ll smash your wedding dress. What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Pride,” she gasped. “He just called from that church. He wants help. He wants to be rescued!”

  He stroked her hair. “Calm down. We’ll do whatever we need to do, but what about the wedding?”

  “Oh, surely you understand,” she said. “I’ve told you I can’t go through it without him. Let’s get him and bring him back for it. Please? Oh, won’t you, dear? He said he’s in trouble.”

  “All right,” he answered, taking about half a minute to say the words. “What’s the plan, Humility?”

  “Well, let’s all get in the van and the Electra, drive over there, and see what happens. No need for any more plan than that until we find out what he’s gotten himself into.”

  “Great!” said Joy. “I’ll round up the kids.”

  Pastor Hypocrisy could not ignore the disturbance at the rear of his sanctuary. His ushers were apparently trying to enforce his rule that no one was to be seated after his sermon had begun. Voices were being raised, his people were turning to look. There was a scuffle and one of his ushers was shoved backward.

  Hypocrisy continued his sermon, hoping that matters would right themselves. In a moment he saw that his ushers had relented, for a whole troupe of people, all dressed up as a wedding party, paraded down a side aisle and sat themselves in an empty front pew. The men were in tuxedos, the women in matching blue formals, except for the bride. Quite a few children were in the group, as well. Throughout the sanctuary much whispering and craning of necks resulted, but Hypocrisy held on with his second point.

  “The youth of today are the church of tomorrow. They will take their place in the great historical pageant of dates and names that is the church. They will take up authority in that vast organization of buildings and schedules that is the Kingdom....

  As the congregation quieted, he realized that the intruders must be the members of Reason’s wedding party. Well, he decided, they had come too late. Pride was about to be made a deacon. Soon he would testify against them in court, regaining control of his own house. The boy might not be blessed abundantly with intelligence, but he knew which side his bread was buttered on: the side of Power and Mammon and Vainglory. Yes, and religion, too. Hypocrisy’s religion, the religion of the majority.

  He closed with a flourish and a prayer.

  After another hymn, he rose to make the announcement about Pride, first asking Neglect and Folly to come to the front of the sanctuary, where he joined them below the pulpit.

  “These are two proud parents today,” he said, “because their son is about to take up a position of trust in the church they first brought him to as a baby. Pride didn’t even know his mom and dad would be here today. It’s a special surprise for him.”

  Glancing back at Pride, the pastor almost missed a beat. The boy looked ill, wretched.

  “C-come down here now, Pride, and stand with your parents. Yes, right here.”

  He leaned in and whispered fiercely to Pride, “Smile!” The boy made a ghastly effort.

  “This is a moment of continuity,” Hypocrisy intoned, “of passing the torch. Mr. Neglect was here at the very first service of this church, long before I came here, and Folly started coming soon after. They were married here and supported this church through the years with generous offerings. Now their son Pride has grown up and is ready to serve his turn.”

  Folly, as he had expected, began to bawl.

  “And people, I know this young man. I know his zeal. I know his willingness to serve and be a part of Mammon. As the torch is passed, you won’t let it drop, will you, Pride?”

  He turned to find an expression on Pride’s face such as an engineer sees when his train’s headlight shines on a face in a railway tunnel.

  “Of course not,” Hypocrisy quickly answered for him. “Now, uh, step up to the pulpit, Pride, and though I know you’re too overcome to say much, if you’ll just give us a few words. No need to say much.”

  While Hypocrisy, Neglect, and Folly found their seats, Pride stepped to the guillotine. He took a paper from an inner pocket and laboriously unfolded it.

  “I am here today—” Only a fine sound system kept his voice audible. “—because I’m supposed to accept the board’s kind nomination to be a deacon.”

  During the pause that followed, Pride smoothed his notepaper with his hand. The pause lengthened.

  “Of course, I’d be a fool not to,” he mumbled.

  “No, you wouldn’t!” a woman cried from the first row. It was Honesty. The Orchard children, never quiet, began to grow louder than usual.

  Hypocrisy decided to take control before matters could get out of hand. Moving to the pulpit as quickly as decorum would allow, he hustled Pride out of the way and called for the closing hymn. His final prayer was long and soothing.

  As soon as he had dismissed the congregation with a benediction, he drew Pride into a small room at the front corner of the sanctuary where were kept a great pile of old hymn books and an assortment of scenery flats used in Christmas plays of years past. When Pride began to apologize, the pastor reassured him.

  “Not another word,” he said. “Anyone could see it was those foreigners that were troubling you, barging up front and harassing you, making a mockery of the service. It was enough to make anyone tongue-tied. But you stood your ground, man, and that’s what counts.”

  He shook Pride’s hand. “Let me be the first to congratulate our new deacon.”

  “But I never made the speech,” Pride said.

  “That was just a formality. It doesn’t matter.”

  The door opened and Vainglory slipped in.

  “Are you all right?” she asked Pride tenderly.

  “Deacon Pride will be fine in a few minutes,” said Hypocrisy. “He showed real bravery up there in the pulpit. He faced them down.”

  “Yes, you outshone them all,” she told him. “You made your own independent way, and you’re going to be successful, more successful than any of those troublemakers will ever be. They’ve been holding you back.”

  She slipped her arm through his.

  “I’m going to circulate and shake hands,” Hypocrisy announced. “Why don’t you two just stay here for a while? I’m sure you have plenty to talk about. You have quite a future ahead of you.”

  As Hypocrisy left, Pride noticed that the pastor nodded to Vainglory in a knowing way.

  When the door had closed, Vainglory said to Pride, “Those people are still out there, waiting for you.”

  “They’re not troublemakers actually,” Pride said. “They’re some of the best friends I ever had.”

  “They make me sick.”

  “Wh-why?”

  “Well, partly because of what they’re doing to you, trying to emasculate you. But mainly because of their own pathetic weakness. They can’t play the game on our level, so they creep around town snuffling out the losers and castaways of society to prey upon —or ‘save’ as they say.” Fame’s voice grew strident. “And after all that they put on airs! You’d think that Faith and Love were queens, the way they act. I’d like to tell them a thing or two. Well, they nearly had you, dear, but you’ve regained your strength now.”

  Pride wanted to answer this. He wanted to tell her that he indeed had been a loser and a castaway in the world’s game and that it was partly her fault. He wanted to tell her that the Orchards were the only ones who had cared whether he committed suicide, that they had saved him from himself when she, Fame, had forgotten him. He wanted to tell her that God was real and alive at Grace House, caring for and guiding them all. However, Fame was standing very close to him, her arm touching his, and her face and hair were breathtaking. For once he had all her attention. She had called him ‘dear.’<
br />
  “Let’s go have lunch someplace,” he said.

  “I was just going to suggest it,” she said. “This other door lets out onto the back lot and I’m parked there.”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “It’s just them,” Fame said. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “Come in,” he said.

  Faith took a step inside and looked around calmly and cheerfully. “We’ve been waiting for you,” she said. “You haven’t forgotten the wedding, have you?”

  Pride looked sheepishly away. He had forgotten again. To his surprise, Fame crept behind him as if to avoid Faith.

  “Is something bothering you?” Faith asked.

  Pride stepped out from between the two women and began an introduction, but Love came in behind her mother, interrupting.

  “Come on, Pride, it’s time for the wedding.”

  Mother and daughter were resplendent in their formals.

  “Fame doesn’t think I should go,” Pride said. “She thinks that you’re a bad influence on me.”

  Vainglory backed against one of the scenery flats, her mouth twisted as if she were in pain, her eyes wide with fear. “Oh,” she gasped thinly. “Make them get out of here. I’m sick. Let me by. I’ll leave.”

  Love stepped closer to her. “Well, we’ve never cared what Fame thinks,” she said. “This is very pretty. Is it supposed to be Jerusalem?”

  With some effort Pride realized that she was referring to the painted scene on the flat behind Vainglory—a landscape with a walled city in the background.

  “Pride,” said Vainglory wispily, “I want you to take me out of here right—”

  One moment Pride was watching two lovely women standing face to face, and the next moment Vainglory disappeared, leaving only Love standing alone, admiring the painting.

  “Where is she?” he cried. “She’s gone!”

  “Who’s gone?” Love turned to him with a sincerity that could not be denied. She really did not know.

  “Fame, of course. She just disappeared into the air. Good Lord, am I seeing things? Where is she?”

  “So she was in here with you?” said Faith. “Well, no wonder you were taking so long to come out. Now, don’t go looking for her. I think I can explain what happened. It’s the opposite of what you’re thinking. You haven’t stopped seeing Vainglory, you’ve just started seeing her.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s still here, I suppose, as much as she’s anywhere.”

  Love said, “We tried to explain to you before, don’t you remember? I told you she’s a sort of mirage.”

  Pride’s expression slowly changed from puzzlement to revulsion. “And you mean I was running after—that—for all these months?”

  “Yes,” said Love, “but don’t feel too bad. Jesus will take care of you, no matter what. Just come to the wedding and rejoice.”

  When they went back out into the sanctuary, he found that most of the congregation had dispersed. The wedding party remained, however, and so did his parents. Neglect and Folly were evidently in an argument with Honesty, an argument which broke off at his approach.

  “Pride,” his mother said, “this woman—whatever name she wants to call herself—is telling us that we can’t come to the wedding. The ingrate! After all we did for her!”

  Pride was reeling from the pressures of one emotional scene after another. He looked at his parents with nearly vacant eyes.

  “What? No, of course you can’t come.”

  “Can’t come to the house we gave you?” asked his father with scorn.

  “Right, right, I gave it away. Excuse me, where is Reason? There she is. I have an apology to make. Excuse me.”

  As he left them, Folly confronted Honesty again. “Why did you let him give the house away? We were counting on you to be a good influence.”

  “Well, thank God I failed,” answered Honesty.

  Folly began to cry. “Doubt,” she pleaded, “help us. Talk with him. We have to bring him to his senses.”

  “Of course,” Honesty answered, showing her uneven teeth in a tight grin. “I’ll help you. I’ll bring him back to his senses.” She exploded in laughter.

  Meanwhile, Hypocrisy and Power were in the pastor’s office counting and recording the offering. The loose cash had already been bagged. They were now working through the checks.

  “Mr. Conformity,” Hypocrisy read aloud from one of the checks. “His usual twenty dollars.”

  “Will that man never tithe?” Power muttered. He entered the information in a notebook.

  “Miss Sacrifice. Seventy dollars.”

  “And on a part time salary,” Power commented, while his pen scribbled. “By the way, how is the situation with young Pride? I think he let those foreign scum shake him this morning.”

  “He’ll come around,” Hypocrisy answered. “I have Vainglory working on him right now. After a few months in the organization, he’ll be ready to cooperate about the eviction of those Heaven people. He just needs time to find his feet.”

  “That’ll be one in Grace’s eye,” laughed Power.

  Suddenly, Pride came in without knocking.

  “Hey, no one is to be in here while we’re counting the offering,” Hypocrisy said sharply. “I’ll talk to you after we get done.”

  “No, now,” Pride said. His boyish features had an unaccustomed firmness. “I’m rejecting my nomination as deacon. I don’t want it.”

  “Don’t want it!” Hypocrisy fairly shouted. “Can you give me one good reason why?”

  Pride stammered for a moment.

  “Do you realize,” Hypocrisy went on, “how many people you will be letting down?”

  “Wait a minute,” said Pride, annoyed. “Let me answer your first question. The reason is because God isn’t here.”

  “And who are you to judge that?” Hypocrisy rose. “Several hundred people who attend here say He is. Are you going to answer for Him? This is the biggest, the most effective ministry in town—”

  “You hate Truth!” Pride said, pointing a finger at him. “And you—” He turned to Power. “—a man of God? That’s a laugh. Yeah, I’ve heard the way you use God’s name, when you cussed me out the night you had me arrested. Well, I’m not coming back to this place.”

  He stepped out and slammed the door.