“One night, Taylor came to see me. At first, I thought it was a play for money, but he came to the rectory. He knew I was a priest. He knew I had no money, but he came in and started to talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“You’re going to think it’s silly.”
“Don’t worry about what I think.”
“He talked about bringing people to Jesus. Frank, I have never once brought anyone to Jesus. The people who come to church at St. Claude's come because the church is there. Not to see me, or to learn about God or about Jesus. If they’re young, they’re there because their parents made them come. If they’re old, they’re there because they have been coming there, or to a church like it, all their life. The only reason they are here is because that big stone building on the corner is there.”
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“Then, Taylor started talking about the number of people who came forward at each of his crusades. It was amazing.”
“You mean coming forward to be saved? Bill, you don’t even believe in that silliness. Especially for what Taylor was doing.”
“No, you’re right. I don’t believe in it, but wasn’t there some possibility that if you cut through all the canned emotion, all the shouting and singing, that some people might find a Jesus they never really knew?”
Frank smiled. “You know I can’t answer that question.”
“No, and neither could I. But Frank, was there a possibility?”
“A possibility? Sure, I guess there is a possibility.”
“Yes, there is. And, one hundred percent of what Taylor does is designed to bring people to Christ. There’s no bums in the front office with their sob stories wanting money they should have had anyway. There was no going to the hospital to visit some hypochondriac old lady or some old man whose children wouldn’t give the time of day. I wouldn’t have to worry about if the plumbing leaked or getting the heat to work. Truthfully, it sounded ideal.”
“Yea, I guess it does, but you know that Taylor couldn’t give less of a damn about bringing people to Jesus, he is just lining people in that audience and people watching television to fleece them.”
Bill exhaled heavily. “Yes, deep down I knew that, but it all sounded so perfect. Maybe Taylor was bringing them down to fleece them, but couldn’t I bring them down to give them God?”
“Okay, and how long is Taylor going to put up with that crap?”
Bill looked straight at Frank and said nothing. Bill picked up his glass and took the last swallow. “Whew. . . still tastes like shit.”
“Said like a good priest. Welcome back.”
“It’s good to be back.”
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