Chapter 7: Bible Cruddy

Without having to spend his time constantly job-hunting, my father was able to focus more energy on his religious pursuits and impositions. He became more adamant about going to church – rain, shine, or apocalypse. That Sunday was the first time we stayed to attend the after-church blesstivities: Bible study for my father (my mother refused to escalate to this level of insanity), and Sunday school for my brothers and I.

I came to the Sunday School room hesitantly. My dad guided me there and patted me on the back, encouraging, “Okay, Ms. Dawn Nevil will explain the Bible. Pay attention and you’ll be happy and assured of salvation,” he promised. “Soon enough God and I will carry you to comfort.” I swallowed. I had been told of God’s power; I just didn’t know in which direction it would lean. The teacher was a middle-aged, barrel-torsoed lady. Her hair looked like a silver mine and her face looked like it had never frowned, which put me a little bit at ease.

“We have a new acolyte!” Ms. Nevil introduced, “This is Julia, so let’s give her a warm welcome.”

“Hi Julia!” my classmates (most of whom were a few years older than I) eagerly grabbed my hand and welcomed me. I gave a smile as awkward as my introduction felt and sat down, grumbling silently.

Ms. Nevil’s focus was a gross simplification of the Pastor’s sermon, which had gone way over my head. “Okay, today we’re going to learn about other religions. Who knows what religion Jesus was?”

“Christian?” one kid logically asked.

“Scientologist?” another illogically asked.

“The Elian Gonzalez Religious Movement?”[1] Leonor attempted.

“…not quite; Jesus was Jewish. Do any of you know what Jewish people believe?”

“Um…chewing?” Leroy guessed.

“No, dear, it’s Judaism, not Chewdaism,” Ms. Nevil reinforced.

“Was he a Wookie like Chewbacca?” Amy inquired.

“No, I said he was Jewish!” she wrote it on the board. “Like us, Jews also believe in a messiah. They just don’t believe he’s arrived yet. Idiot kykes,” she muttered under her breath You know what a messiah is, don’t you?”

“Jesus was one, wasn’t he?” Richard asked. “Isn’t that why he wore a bib at the last supper?”

“What in Heaven’s name…?” Ms. Nevil hesitantly probed.

“Well, I’m messya, too, so I have to wear one at Easter…”

She rubbed her temples, “No, the Messiah was sent by God to save us.”

“Even murderers?” Clarissa asked.

“If they believe in Jesus,” Ms. Nevil boasted. It may have only been an aside, but the comment filled my head with images of me fleeing rabid criminals across Heaven. She continued, “We believe in the Old and New Testaments; Jews only believe in the Old. They’re still waiting for the Messiah.”

“Is He in customs? When daddy comes home from business trips, he says he was in customs for a few days.” Andrew stammered. “They give him a lipstick stamp when he’s able to go home.”

There was an awkward pause, “…our messiah has come; that’s what matters. But Jews follow certain rules to be Jews. Since they don’t follow Jesus, they must wear a cap to cover their bald spots and they can’t eat pork, shellfish, or cheeseburgers as punishment for not believing.” This confused me. I knew that Mr. Salisbury was Jewish, but he had barbecues where he ate ribs and cheeseburgers, and he never wore a hat.

“But didn’t you say that only people who believe in Jesus and stuff get to go to Heaven?” Amy queried.

“That’s right.”

“Then why would Jews follow rules if they’re going to Hell, anyway?”

Ms. Nevil was in over her head. She flipped through her notes. Not even religion can survive an inquisition of fresh minds. Eventually she found what she was looking for, “Revelations 7:3-8 says 144,000 Israelites (the old term for Jews) will go to Heaven.”

“Did Old Testament guys like Solomon get to make it to Heaven?” Donald, who was older, asked.

“The Transfiguration suggests that’s the case.”

We stared, confused, but nothing she said made sense, so we clammed up and let her continue until she tuckered herself out. “Okay, kids, now the last thing I want to discuss is Hell…”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to use that word…” Amy suggested.

“Depends how you use the word. You can use ‘ass’ for donkey, ‘bitch’ for dog, ‘cock’ for rooster, or ‘pussy’ for cat,” she encouraged (no wonder we got a new teacher next week). “Anyhow, if you insist on talking about it, Hell is incredibly hot, children.”

“Is it hotter than summer camp? I sweated so much it got in my eyes!” Leroy exclaimed.

“Trust me. It’s far worse. Imagine your eyes being pulled out like overripe grapes,” she warned, eyes wider than wide.

Clarissa cried.

“It’s okay! Sh…!” she reassured. “What’s the most painful thing that happened to you?” she asked us all, as if that would reassure us.

We all thought silently, then Pat muttered, “My uncle kept me tied up to a pipe in a basement and touched…”

“That’s just Catholicism,” Ms. Nevil interrupted. “Point is: Hell is a million times worse than anything you imagine.”

Pat burst out crying.

“But you won’t go there!” she reassured. “You only go if you don’t believe Jesus saved the world. All Christians go to Heaven, which is better than anything on earth!”

“Like when Uncle touched…?”

“The best feelings possible forever…just for obeying God,” she steamrolled over Pat’s statement.

“So anyone goes to Heaven? Even Pat’s uncle…if he believes in Jesus?”

“Enough about uncles, children…if you believe, you’re saved. So what is it that we believe?” she tested.

“That Jesus saves…stuff?” we queried, mostly to shut her up.

“The world, Jesus saved the world, okay? See you next week!” she said, bidding us goodbye.

On the way home, my father asked what we learned.

“We learned about Jews…” Zach asserted.

“That’s what black people sing when they’re sad!” Eli chimed in.

“That’s blues, dummy. Jews were the people that Jesus came from. Moses came before Jesus, but then Jesus went back in time to save him! How cool is that?” he asked, mimicking the Pastor. “And some Jews may be saved if they follow the commandments God gave to Moses!”

“Yea, Tom said that…” dad muttered, gears rolling. “What did you learn, Julia?”

“Not to talk to uncles,” I mumbled, watching the land scroll by like frames of life.