For the Love of God: The Big Empty

It was a brief and pure silence; and extended moment of private ecstasy surpassed only by more private moments in my teenage bedroom with Miss October. I was completely underwater, my eyes closed, and in that moment of submersion I felt a peace I couldn’t fully understand but enjoyed immensely. I opened my eyes and saw a silvery slip of light play across the thin veil separating my watery solace from the cacophonous world of air and people. A thin smile played over my lips. I wondered if I couldn’t just stay down here awhile.

The preacher’s arms, distorted and askew above the water line, came into sharp focus in the purified water. I saw his thin forearms extending past my face, wrapping around my head. His hands felt hot on the back of my neck in the cool water. It was disturbing to think he could hold me under and I’d have to fight to breathe once again, but the thought was so fleeting it had no time to take hold, as the pull of the preacher’s hands pulled me back into the moment. When I felt my body begin to lift towards the veil, when I saw the glassy lights wavering in front of me begin to brighten, a moment of sadness so powerful overtook me I practically gasped in shock. I had to return to the noisy din of the breathing world! My face broke the surface and I heard the preacher say too loudly, “…and in the name of Jesus Christ, you are now baptized! Hallelujah!” It took some seconds to regain a steady view of my surroundings. Again I stood before a congregation of well-wishers, now soaked and coughing the water away. I heard the clapping of happy people, the joyful celebration of another brother joining the fold. I reveled in the attention, standing dripping from head to toe, sanctified and deified, and I knew I had found my calling!

It was a wonder I didn’t feel like a sinner. Just the night before, I’d been out at my favorite nightclub, drinking copiously and making the acquaintance of a mysterious older woman in black, seducing her, then screwing her in the back seat of her Cadillac El Dorado. It didn’t bother me then she was married, or that I had only known her less than three hours. All that mattered was the heat flowing between her femininity and my crotch. The passion I felt in the minutes of sweaty copulation felt much like the energy welling up from within me now.

Surveying the well-dressed members, my eyes met my Mother’s. She had tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks, a huge smile on her face; she fairly beamed with love and satisfaction! Her little boy was saved! A moment of shame washed over me as I thought of the night before. If only Mom knew what her little boy had been up to. The feeling was quickly lost in the attention of the crowd, however. I felt energized. All my senses were buzzing with the heightened adrenalin. The adulation of the moment was all-too-short-lived, and reality came smashing down like a brick on a mirror, the view shattered, when the thought slipped through my mind that this glorious feeling had nothing whatever to do with baptism or being saved!

The shock froze me on the spot. I couldn’t even wipe the smile off my face; it had taken on the twisted form of a doll’s toothy grin. I looked out on all those happy faces, each one with their pretenders’ visage: that smarmy, dangerous falsehood barely concealed by the “love of God.” I saw their lies; I saw their hypocrisy mirroring my own. I was laid bare in that instant and knew that I would never be able to view myself nor religion the same ever again. I was the actor, taking a bow after a command performance, not the cleansed soul of a wrongdoer prostrated lovingly before Gods’ merciful forgiveness. They were the audience, lauding adoration to my masterful work, not Gods’ faithful servants welcoming a lost child into the warm fold. I nearly choked with laughter. Yes, it was only a brief moment, but a thin smile played over my lips, and I wondered if I couldn’t just stay up here awhile.