Rescue

table did the same, except for Lutrice and me, keeping our eyes open and on each other.
    Wyeth intoned, “Oh, Lord, we thank Thee for providing this bounty, for nour -ishing our bodies and pre- serv -ing our souls for the fight against Satan and all his minions. For these gifts we are grateful unto Thee, and hope to live in the bosom of Thy Love forever and ever.“
    Everyone at the table said “ A -men,“
    The food was old-fashioned good, but bland. No spices I could taste. Checking around the table, I didn’t see even salt and pepper.
    Royel Wyeth said, “And so, John the Pil -grim, what brings you to us?“
    “Well,“ I said around a bite of chicken wing, “I’d read about the Church in some pamphlets, and I was very impressed by how... fundamentally you seemed to be attacking problems.“
    “Yes. ‘Attack’ is a fine word for it, too. One must be ever vig -ilant, and vig -ilance often requires action. Tell me, John, were you ever in our armed forces?“
    “The Army, but a long time ago.“
    “I’ve often feared that as we make our young men good warriors, we ex- pose them to unfortunate and unnecessary temptation.“
    “Absolutely right, Reverend.“
    We went back and forth on that for a while as the aproned women circulated again, clearing the table and setting a generous slice of yellow pie in place of the dinner plates. No coffee, though, and no smell of any brewing.
    I said, “Lemon pie, Reverend?“
    A shake of the head, the pomaded hair staying firmly at attention. “Key lime pie, John. A staple of the area.“
    I said, “I don’t usually eat dinner this early, but it’s almost refreshing.“
    “Yes, John. The Good Lord never meant for man to stay awake past the sun. The man who goes to bed with the sun can rise with it, begin the Good Lord’s work earlier than most. It is also important to have the tent meetings here earl- ier on Fridays rather than later. Can you guess why?“
    I felt a little like a nephew being bounced on a pompous uncle’s knee, but I said, “No. Why, Reverend?“
    “In order that our flock, most of whom are paid on Friday, do not have the temp- ta -tions of the night competing for what would be, and should be, their do- na -tions to the work of the Lord.“
    Good opening. “About those donations, Reverend. I wonder if you could tell me what sort of projects I’m helping to support?“
    Lutrice gave a stagy look to the watch on her wrist. “Oh, my, Royel! We will have to hurry to make that satellite hookup.“
    Wyeth patted her hand lightly without looking at her. “Patience, my dear, pa -tience. Our efforts take many forms, John. There is the spread -ing of our Lord’s Word, of course, through the pamphlets, as you’ve read, and our radio and television broad-casts, as Sister Lutrice is reminding me. We also have the Compound.“
    “The Compound?“
    “Yes. A spir -itual community where good Christian families, members of our Church from all over this fine country, can spend their vacations, a spiritual res -pite from the temptations of the secular world in which they must strug -gle to remain as God means them to be.“
    “I’d love to see that, Reverend.“
    “Royel, honey, we really must—“
    “I’m afraid you cannot, John. No, no, you first must go through a screening process, to be sure you’re pre- par -ed to join our Church and to be sure it may re- ceive you.“
    No time for that. “Any other projects, Reverend?“
    “Yes.“ The eyes began to glow, the same fervor that electrified the audience in the tent and probably the viewing audience in front of their TVs. “We’ve established the first Center for the Study of Sin, an institute whose sole mission is the investigation of and research into sin.“
    I thought, “The Sinstitute,“ but kept it to myself.
    Wyeth was on a roll now. “How Satan in- sid -iously inserts sin into every good soul’s life, Pilgrim John. How his minions, especially—“
    Lutrice said, “Royel, I really must in- sist. We can speak to Pilgrim John at another time, but the satellite hookup simply can- not be postponed or we’ll lose it and all the money we’ve paid for it.“
    Either her mimicking his way of accentuating words or the mention of money broke through to her husband. With a decisive nod of his head, Wyeth rose and everyone else did as well, me slower than the others.
    The pastor shook my hand firmly, regarded me solemnly’ “I hope our breaking bread together at the Lord’s Table has