Alex Preston - The Revelations

Marcus and Abby were still flushed, their cheeks red and their chests rising. Marcus knew that it was in music that he came closest to God, came nearest to the appreciation of the divine that Abby seemed to find so easy. It allowed him to escape himself and the cynicism that questioned religion in a mocking voice, that laughed at Abby’s credulousness. There was another round of applause from their group when they walked into the small room in the crypt. Marcus took Abby’s hand and they bowed together.

‘Thanks, guys,’ Marcus said, sitting down. ‘I enjoyed that. Now tonight I’d like to talk to you about the issue of suffering. Because, as David said earlier, it’s one of the biggest questions we face. I almost ended up leaving the first time I did the Course, just because I couldn’t get my head around it. And I still have trouble with it. I still have doubts. So I’m going to ask my lovely wife to help out if I go slightly off-message.’ He looked at Abby and smiled. She still seemed wired: she was sitting on her hands and rocking forward on the balls of her feet, leaning into the centre of the circle.

‘You heard David refer to it in his speech, the fact that there are much easier ways of explaining away suffering. Either that God isn’t able to stop children getting leukaemia or whatever, or that He can’t be everywhere at once and helps some but not all, or that He doesn’t want to end their suffering. And when you watch the news at night it makes it very difficult to believe that an omniscient, omnipotent and omnibenevolent God exists.’

Marcus saw David in the doorway watching him. He paused for a moment, looked at the faces all turned towards him, saw that Abby was still sitting on her hands, although she was now rocking her chair backwards, coming perilously close to falling. Marcus rose and stood behind his wife, his hands upon her shoulders. He knew he was mimicking David’s tone, his modulation.

‘When Eve ate the fruit in the Garden she took a decision that would affect everything that came after. She acted with her own will rather than being a slave. And thus the moment of Original Sin was also the moment when we gained freedom. And every small victory, every freely willed act, is a celebration of that first rebellion. God punishes us through the suffering in the world. He punishes us because that is the natural balance of things: we had the chance to stay in Eden, to live a life of comfortable slavery, but we chose freedom. And how much richer even the most tragic life, even a life cut short, knowing that we have the freedom to make our own choices, to carve our own way through that life. .’

Marcus felt like he was growing, inflating to fill the room. It was not a feeling that he enjoyed. He stared down at the faces of the members of the group, the young blonde girls and their boyfriends, Neil, Abby; he looked over to David, who was smiling broadly in the doorway. He continued to speak and there were no questions, no interruptions, just the purity of thought expressed in clear, calm words. But all the time there was humming at the back of his mind the static of hypocrisy. He knew he sounded slick, knew they were all hanging on his words, that Abby would be proud of him. But he felt fraudulent and spivvy.

When the session was over he tried to slip away from the group. He wanted to sit in the car in darkness until Abby had finished helping Sally clear up the dinner pans, then drive them back to the flat to continue their reclusive life. As he climbed the pale stone stairs into the church he felt an arm around his shoulders. It was David.

‘That was wonderful, tonight. You seemed inspired. Did you feel like the Spirit was moving in you?’

Marcus paused. David began to rub his thumb gently down the line of Marcus’s collarbone. Marcus shivered.

‘I don’t know. It felt very fluent and easy, but I don’t know if it was spiritual. You know that I had a problem with this part of the Course, and so I’ve worked really hard to make sure that I’m on top of it, that I know all of the arguments and can regurgitate them almost without thinking.’

They were now walking down the aisle together. Their voices were distorted by the height above them. Marcus watched Abby collecting forks in a bowl; Sally followed after her throwing paper plates into a black plastic bag. The priest dropped his hand from Marcus’s shoulder. They sat down together facing the altar. Marcus tried to explain himself, but he felt his words were now muddled and fumbling.

‘When I was speaking earlier it felt a lot like it does when I’m arguing a case at work. You know it’s very rare that anyone I’m defending is innocent. We’re expensive, so we usually get the guilty guys. I don’t ever get to do anything as glamorous as speaking in court. But I always get sent in to speak to the other side’s legal team. And it’s because I can speak like that, with that fluency, giving the impression of being totally in charge, totally on top of things. When, in fact, I’m peddling half-truths and relying on intimidation and legal sleight of hand. It was like that tonight. All that stuff about Original Sin and Free Will — it’s not enough. It’s not enough of an excuse for the bad stuff that happens in the world. And I know it’s bullshit, but I spout it anyway.’

The priest was silent for a moment, then stood up slowly. He hovered over Marcus. Marcus could see the muscles in David’s jaw working. He watched the priest’s hands. The right hand seized the fingers of the left and squeezed until they were white, corpselike.

‘I’ve built something astonishing here, something that will outlast all of us.’ David’s voice was icy. ‘I’ve been watching you very carefully. I’m worried that I made the wrong choice when I decided to bring you into the inner circle of this church. Look around you. You could be someone here, really make something of yourself. The Course is exploding. It’s going global.’ He focused his eyes on Marcus’s and extended his cold, thin hand to Marcus’s shoulder again. He pressed his thumb on the collarbone.

‘I’m trying. I just thought that I should tell you if I was having these doubts, rather than keep them to myself.’

David continued as if he hadn’t heard, increasing the pressure on Marcus’s collarbone.

‘Have you stopped to think about why two of your members left after the first week? Because it certainly wasn’t Abby’s fault. People can sense the contradictions in you, how you struggle against yourself. You drink too much, you smoke too much. I watch you; I can see all that excess. I see the flames of hell lapping at your feet. Remember that the Devil is always there. He is desperate for me to fail, for the Course to fail. So I have to look for him at every turn. Don’t let the Devil work through you, Marcus. Don’t let it be you that he uses to bring this all down. I am watching you.’ The priest dropped his hand from Marcus’s shoulder and began to walk away from him. Course members scuttled in the shadows of the north and south aisles. David turned back towards him, his hand held in the air, fingers still in pincer grip.

‘I’ll see you on Sunday. Remember what I said.’ David’s voice had returned to its public register. Marcus watched the priest make his way to the door and out into the night.

Marcus sat for a while longer, feeling flat and confused, his collarbone throbbing. Then the lights began to go out, and he was sitting in darkness. He knew the layout of the church and found his way in blindness to the door and out into the damp autumn night. He sat in the Audi and listened to the radio until Abby’s outline appeared against the warm yellow of the open rectory door. She bounded towards the car, climbed into the passenger seat, and let out a long, contented sigh.