David Dickinson - Death on the Holy Mountain

‘There was no other good enough

To pay the price of sin,

He only could unlock the gate

Of heaven and let us in.’

The church had been built in times when the Protestant population of Butler’s Cross was much greater. If Father Brady had been faced with so few worshippers in Our Lady of Sorrows he would have thought that a catastrophe must have struck, a second famine come to decimate his flock. Richard Butler was there, of course, Sylvia by his side. Several other members of his family and friends come to visit managed to fill up a couple of pews. Johnpeter Kilross was there, feeling rather hung over, and Alice Bracken in a summer dress. There were some more Protestants from outlying districts who travelled miles to come and show the flag at Sunday Matins. Behind them stretched row after row of empty pews, dust gathering on the wood, the prayer books unopened, the hymn books abandoned.

‘O dearly dearly has he loved,

And we must love him too,

And trust in his redeeming blood

And try his works to do.’

At the back of the Catholic church the young men were trying to attract the attention of the girls who looked so unattainable in their Sunday best. Father Brady moved on.

‘ Kyrie eleison ,’ he intoned, Lord have mercy.

‘ Kyrie eleison ,’ replied the congregation.

‘ Christe eleison ,’ continued the Father, Christ have mercy.

‘ Christe eleison ,’ came the response.

‘ Kyrie eleison ,’ boomed Father Brady.

‘ Kyrie eleison ,’ said his parishioners.

The Reverend Cooper Walker had resolved to read the first lesson himself. He had changed the reading, which was meant to come from the Book of Isaiah, to one from the Book of Samuel.

‘Second Book of Samuel, Chapter Eleven,’ he began. The lectern was magnificent with a great gold eagle on the top. ‘“And it came to pass in an eveningtide, that David arose from his bed and walked upon the roof of the king’s house: and from the roof he saw a woman washing herself; and the woman was very beautiful to look upon.

‘“And David sent and inquired after this woman. And one said, Is not this Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?

‘“And David sent messengers, and took her; and she came in unto him and he lay with her”.’ The Reverend Cooper Walker looked directly at Johnpeter Kilross for a fraction of a second. The young man’s face had turned bright red. The vicar carried on. ‘“And she returned to her house. And the woman conceived and sent and told David, I am with child.”’

Maybe it was the colour of Kilross’s face or Alice Bracken hiding her head in her hands, but a current of excitement was running through the tiny congregation now. What was going on? Did the vicar know something they didn’t? The Reverend Cooper Walker carried on, outlining the device used by David to have Uriah the Hittite killed in battle so Bathsheba might become his wife. The vicar paused before the final words of the chapter: ‘“But the thing that David had done displeased the Lord.”’

At twenty minutes past eleven Father O’Donovan Brady climbed the steps to his pulpit. He stared at the young people whispering to each other at the back of the church. He paused until there was complete silence in the Church of Our Lady of Sorrows.

‘The Devil is abroad in Butler’s Cross,’ he thundered to his congregation. ‘On our peaceful streets, in our community of Christian souls, Satan is doing his work. Let me remind you of the seventh of God’s commandments, handed down to Moses on the mountain for the guidance and instruction of his people.’ Father Brady paused again. ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery.’ He repeated it in case some of his flock had not heard, this time with a heavy emphasis on ‘not’. ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery. Do not get me wrong, my friends.’ The priest had noticed some members of his congregation looking decidedly sheepish and wondered if Cathal Rafferty might not have been better employed on his snooping missions closer to home. Still, there could always be other fishing expeditions later on. Sin was sin wherever it was to be found. ‘These are not members of our congregation here, devout Catholic souls, who are breaking the laws of God. It is two Protestants who are staining the pure air of Butler’s Cross. Even Protestants claim to believe in the Ten Commandments. They too subscribe to Thou shalt not commit adultery. But what do we find? We find two of their number doing the Devil’s work in broad daylight.’

At twenty-two minutes past eleven the Reverend Cooper Walker climbed into his pulpit. This was going to be one of the most difficult sermons he had preached in his entire ministry.

‘In the first lesson this morning,’ he began, ‘we heard the story of David and his lust for Bathsheba. We also heard at the end how God was displeased by what David had done. For he had broken not one, but two, of God’s commandments. Thou shalt not kill, by his plotting to have Uriah the Hittite, Bathsheba’s husband, killed in battle. And he had broken the Seventh Commandment, Thou shalt not commit adultery.’ The vicar paused and looked round his little band of worshippers. Most of them looked bemused. But not all of them.

‘I have not come here this morning to name names,’ the vicar went on. ‘I do not think that would be helpful. But I ask each and every one of you here this morning to look into your hearts and ask yourselves if you have broken the Seventh Commandment. It should not be a difficult question to answer.’

‘Johnpeter Kilross! Alice Bracken! These are the sinners who reside in Butler’s Court and who have broken God’s holy law and commandments!’ Father O’Donovan Brady was in full flow, thumping the side of his pulpit. ‘These are the people, one a single man, the other a married woman with an absent husband, who have committed adultery in a cottage on the Butler estate! So great is their contempt for their Saviour, they didn’t even close the curtains properly! These are the wretches who have brought disgrace unto themselves and despair into their families! I bring you this message this morning. If you work in Butler’s Court, think before you serve them their food. Think before you are asked to wash their garments, befouled and besmirched no doubt with the sins they have committed. If you are asked to clean their quarters think rather if they would not be better left in the squalor they deserve. If you are a shopkeeper in the town think before serving them any sustenance that might give them strength to continue their sordid debauchery. Their behaviour might be fitting in the souks of Cairo or the brothels of Bangkok: it is not fitting here, in St Patrick’s island.’ Father O’Donovan Brady stopped briefly. ‘This is the message of God’s teaching. Abide by God’s commandments. Keep God’s word. Let not sin intrude into innocent lives. Let us work together to banish Satan from our midst for ever. In nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti , Amen.’

‘We are few, here in this land, we who belong to the Church of Ireland,’ the vicar went on. ‘I would not say a happy few, not today, nor would I refer to us this morning as a band of brothers. But the fact that we are few, our numbers small, means that our responsibilities are great. We must be seen to lead virtuous lives. Our Catholic colleagues may think we are in the wrong Church but they must not think we are not decent Christian souls, intent on leading as good a life as we can in this world in the hope of finding salvation in the next. When people in our faith commit adultery, they not only demean themselves, they demean all of us. I would ask you to pray for the sinners, pray that they may sin no more and be brought back into the light of God’s gracious mercy and forgiveness. If you have sinned, I would ask you to repent. Above all I would ask you to be mindful of Christ’s words to the woman taken in adultery, “go thou and sin no more.”’