You
may say, Preacher, where is your black Bible?
Why
ain't you preachin down sin?
You
may say, Preacher, why ain't you talkin about hell?
What
about lipstick and short dresses?
What
about cigarettes and whiskey?
What
about dope and long hair?
Well,
I didn't bring my Bible for a purpose.
Because
this morning I wanted to say to you
I've
been through all the books and come out on yonside.
I'm
educated, but not like the Brown boys.
Let
me tell you about the Brown boys.
Feller
over close to where I live
wanted
some little cedar trees dug up
and
planted in a row beside his house.
Tried
to hire the Johnson boys, his neighbors,
but
they were too scared to do it, didn't believe
in
digging up cedar trees; they'd always heard
you'd
die whenever the trees got tall enough
for
their shadow to cover your grave.
Get
somebody else, they said.
Get
old Jim Brown and Tom Brown.
They're
educated, don't believe in nothin.
Well,
I'm educated, but not like the Brown boys.
There's
something I believe in:
You
must be born again.
[from "Brier Sermon" by Jim Wayne Miller]
- - -
Strains
of sacred hymns still echo off hard poplar pews, faint and reverent.
Or
may be it's just the sound of the walls peeling and ceilings flaking?
[from "Death of a Church" by Robert Miller]