The Minister

He sits at his desk in his well appointed and large office. He looks out the window at the leaves falling from the trees.

His office has bookshelves filled with leather bound books, medieval art hanging on the walls, a large marble conference table, and leather couches and chairs around a coffee table. The office consoles the weary and forlorn as he ministers to them. The office comforts the wealthy and powerful as a spiritual home away from home.

His mind roams to the early days when he first started his ministry at a humble church. He built the congregation to include many of the rich and mighty who are his parishioners. His ministry is broadcast to millions each Sunday morning.

He’s been a successful evangelist.

He talked to the President yesterday. The President asked for his continuing political support. The President used to ask for his spiritual guidance, but during the past year that has changed.

He has accommodated. He tells the press that the President is God’s Anointed One on earth.

Yes, celestial order and hierarchy is as it should be.

He breaks from reverie and looks at his watch. It is time to start the service for the young man who has fallen in the war. A flag draped coffin stands beside the pulpit in the church outside his door. Inside the coffin is a head, part of a rib cage, an arm, part of a leg, and a foot with no toes.

He shivers. He looks at his watch again. He rises from his chair.

He walks to the pulpit. He sees the college law professor and his wife sitting in the front row, the father and mother of the boy who is no more. He remembers them coming to church each morning and leaving their children at Sunday School. He remembers them sitting in the pews at service for more years than he wishes to count.

He cannot remember the face of the young man who went off to war.

Later, he would sort out what was Caesar's and what was the Lord’s. He would sort out whether he’d been doing the Lord’s Will or his own.