Stranger in a Strange Land

platform had both his arms raised; the great cave became quieter. Suddenly he brought them down. "Who's happy?"
                "WE'RE HAPPY!"
                "Why?"
                "GOD... LOVES US!"
                "How d'you know?"
                "FOSTER TOLD US!"
                He dropped to his knees, raised one clenched fist. "Let's hear that Lion ROAR!"
                The congregation roared and shrieked and screamed while he controlled the din using his fist as a baton, raising the volume, lowering it, squeezing it down to a subvocal growl, then suddenly driving it to crescendo that shook the balcony. Mike felt it beat on him and he wallowed in it, with ecstasy so painful that he feared that he would be forced to withdraw. But Jill had told him that he must not ever do so again, except in the privacy of his own room; he controlled it and let the waves wash over him.
                The man stood up. "Our first hymn," he said briskly, "is sponsored by Manna Bakeries, makers of Angel Bread, the loaf of love with our Supreme Bishop's smiling face on every wrapper and containing a valuable premium coupon redeemable at your nearest neighborhood Church of the New Revelation, Brothers and Sisters, tomorrow Manna Bakeries with branches throughout the land start a giant, price-slashing sale of pre-equinox goodies. Send your child to school tomorrow with a bulging box of Archangel Foster cookies, each one blessed and wrapped in an appropriate text-and pray that each goodie he gives away may lead a child of sinners nearer to the light.
                "And now let's really live it up with the holy words of that old favorite: 'Forward, Foster's Children!' All together-"
                "Forward, Foster's Chil-dren! Smash apart your foes
                Faith our Shield and Ar-mar! Strike them down by rows-!" 
                "Second verse!"
                "Make no peace with sin-nen! God is on our side!"
                Mike was so joyed by it all that he did not stop then to translate and weigh and try to grok the words. He grokked that the words were not of essence; it was a growing-closer. The snake dance started moving again, the marchers chanting the potent sounds along with the choir and those too feeble to march.
                After the hymn they caught their breaths while there were announcements, Heavenly messages, another commercial, and the awarding of door prizes. Then a second hymn, "Happy Faces Uplifted," was sponsored by Dattelbaum's Department Stores where the Saved Shop in Safety since no merchandise is offered which competes with a sponsored brand-a children's Happy Room in each branch supervised by a Saved sister. The young priest moved out to the very front of the platform and cupped his ear, listening- "We ... want . . . .Digby!" 
                "Who?"
                "We-Want--DIG-BY!"
                "Louder! Make him hear you!"
                "WE-WANT-DIG-BY!" Clap, clap, stomp, stomp. 
                "WE- WANT-DIG-BY!" Clap, clap, stomp, stomp- It went on and on, getting louder as the building rocked with it. Jubal leaned to Boone and said, "Much of that and you'll do what Samson did." "Never fear," Boone told him, around his cigar. "Reinforced, fireproof, and sustained by faith. Besides, it's built to shake; it was designed that way. Helps."
                The lights went down, curtains behind the altar parted, and a blinding radiance from no visible source picked out the Supreme Bishop, waving his clasped hands over his head and smiling at them.
                They answered with the lion's roar and he threw them kisses. On his way to the pulpit he stopped, half raised one of the possessed women still writhing slowly near the altar, kissed her on the forehead, lowered her gently, started on-stopped again and knelt by the bony redhead. The Supreme Bishop reached behind him and a portable microphone was instantly placed in his hand.
                He put his other arm around the woman's shoulders, placed the pickup near her lips.
                Mike could not understand her words. Whatever they were, he was reasonably sure that they were not English.
                But the Supreme Bishop was translating, interjecting his words quickly at each pause in the foaming spate. "Archangel