Whew~! I was beginning to think that I’d have to buy a copy of this book. I’d seriously hate to spend money on it. Thankfully, it finally turned up after a systematic search (as opposed to the haphazard “shuffle through boxes” approach).
Alright, where were we? Oh yeah…. real estate.
Andy and June Forsythe had a very nice home, a modern log house on the outskirts of town, not far from Forsythe lumber.
oh god anything but more real estate.
Oh good, it’s actually a “dinner fellowship”. So, okay, so google tells me a lot of churches have this on their schedule but not what it is, and wikipedia tells me that “fellowship” is the people in a given church, so… do they… eat people? Or something? No, I’m joking. Obviously this is some kind of event… in a home… with food apparently… and… churchy people.
Chaos doesn’t know either. He posits that “it might be where you have a church dinner and then afterwards talk about God?” Kae suggests “it kind of sounds like it’s basically a… group of people who host dinner for each other in turn?”
We’re really wrong for this.
Anyway, so the fellowship in question consist of Hank, Mary, and “many others of the Remnant” (and can I just take a minute to say I hate that name? Seriously, it sounds so… post-apocalyptic. They’re facing a downswing in their particular faith, not the end of the world.). The humans appear to be the Colemans, the Coopers, the harrises, some college kids, and the Forsythes, and some other unnamed humans; there are also the angels Krioni, Triskal, Seth, Chimon, and Mota hanging out in the rafters.
Oh god, and then the next few pages are going down the lineup of everyone’s backstory. Alright, let’s see what we can make of this:
The first couple we meet have been churchgoers “all their lives” but only “made a serious commitment to Jesus Christ a year ago”. You know, going to church every week is a commitment. If you can’t find Jesus in a church, how is anyone supposed to find him? If it takes a special action on his part, as here when the “Lord had spoken to their hearts”, then how does anyone escape hell? Doesn’t that mean everyone who is damned is damned because Jesus wants them to be damned, since he didn’t reach out to touch them? And they’re damned whether they go to church or not?
The next couple had been going to another church, but “never knew much about the Bible or about Christ”. See previous answer.
The next couple always knew the Lord. Always? As infants? Well whatever.
Oh look, more glossing over. You know, if you can’t write more than a handful of unique characters, maybe you shouldn’t write the chronicle of an entire town on a grand scale? Maybe you should stick with the small secret rebels and build them in-depth? Just a thought.
And now comes the interesting sociological phenomenon: everyone’s fears and darker impulses building on each other. One person says it’s war, he can hrdly walk outside without feeling like he’s “running through a shower of spears”. The next insists it’s Satan out there, like a lion trying to devour everyone. The next adds that they should do something about it. Someone brings up the university, and the high school: “The kids are messing around with Satanic stuff like you wouldn’t believe. We used to trip out on drugs, now it’s demons,” says a high school student, who totally sounds like an ordinary high school student. Next thing you know it’ll be mass hysteria and rioting and then innocent people being burned to death for wearing hippie leis.
Ron discusses the classic gateway drug: “I think I got into the Satanic Stuff […] when i got my fortune told. Hey, that’s when I caught it, no doubt.”
So… non-Christian religion is not only of the devil, evil, makes you turn into a drug addict, makes you steal and do “all kinds of horrible things”, makes you “end up sleeping in the weirdest places. . . and with the weirdest people”, but it’s also a disease you can catch just by partaking in innocent activities, say, at a carnival.
“There are more witches and fortune-tellers around here than Sunday school teachers!”
Well all I can say is…..
They gather to pray for the poor lost souls of the teenagers of the town, possessed and strung out on drugs. I’m just glad they’re not reaching for the torches and pitchforks. The fervent prayers become a song and the angels sing along.
(can it be this song? Please?)
Meanwhile, Kate sits alone, eating dinner her husband didn’t bother to come home for, wondering where her daughter was tonight, crying into her plate.