Novel ~~- Hiroshima Stones (Novel)

Excommunicated

4397 Characters =~4.4Min. Reading Time
The next Sunday Morning, 6 AM, the children set up film and slide projectors, so excited that I'd agreed to let them flash movies and slides of the group's antics on a makeshift movie screen during the presentation.
But the deacon's balding heads hit the roof when they saw the big white screen obscuring the giant crucifix.
The deacons tore the screen down.
I saw Guntar in tears, his father screaming at him for desecrating the sanctuary.
I told the children it was OK.
We went to Plan B:
No technology, just the pleas of good kids who wanted to make a difference.

The wealthy parishioners filled the pews of the golden Cathedral, clothed in conservative black and white.
On the women's breasts hung the elegant Nazi Mother Cross.
My beloved Bishop Frederick, who'd raised me since I was 15, introduced me with a wink.
I walked to the lectern in my black robe, lip trembling:
"Dear congregation, I must ask for your generosity to help the children..."
It was going well - very polite, nothing controversial.
Kids alternated speaking at podium:
"What a nice youth priest Klaus is!"
"He encourages us to be good Germans."
"How much fun we have in youth group!"
The congregation smiled.
To cap the wonderful presentation, my dear apprentice Guntar stood up, looked at me with shaky eyes, and said, "Yes, and Klaus always tells us how evil Hitler is and we should never join the Hitler Youth and someday his friends will assassinate the Fuhrer!
Klaus told us 'A dictatorship is like a snake- if you step on its tail, it will just turn and bite you and no one will be helped- you must strike at the head.'"
The crowd recoiled in horror; the sanctuary bristled with hate.
All eyes on me.
Guntar's father winked approval at his dutiful boy.
The Bishop got up and hushed the room back to order, but no one heard his sermon that day.
After the service no one would look in my eyes.
Even my friends, who hated Hitler, walked the other way to avoid me.
The elegant parishioners walked out, poo-pooh'ing the impropriety of kids speaking in the cathedral, while the powerful elders held a private meeting, demanding I be excommunicated.
I waited in the hall, my heart pounding, my trembling shadow moving across the floor.
The Bishop stormed out of the meeting, dragged me by the collar into his office, threw me down into the chair, shouting at the top of his lungs, towering over me, spitting, his monstrous red veinous neck bulging from his tight collar; heavy red gown flailing with rage. "I will reprimand you with the words of GOD!"
Waving his Bible he began to scream:
"Romans 13:1 : Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which GOD has established!"
His bloodshot eyes flared, "He who rebels against Authority is rebelling against God, bringing judgment on himself.
For rulers hold no terror for those who do right, but for those who do wrong.
Do you want to be free from fear of the Fuhrer?
Then do right and he will commend you.
For he is God's servant to do you good.
But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword for nothing.
Hitler is God's servant, an agent of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer!'
Hear the Word of the Lord!!"
I pleaded through tears, "Romans 12:21: Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."
The Bishop screamed louder, flipping pages madly and spitting me down further into the chair:
"Hebrews 13:17 Obey your Leaders and submit to their Authority. They keep watch over you!" Pages tearing:
"First Peter 2:13! Submit yourself for the Lord's sake to every Authority instituted among men... to the Fuhrer, as the supreme authority!"
I cried back, "Yet Your Excellency, it continues: 'For it is God's will that by doing good you should silence the ignorant talk of foolish men.' ... 'We must obey God rather than men! Acts 5:29!'"

The Bishop raised his hand to strike me, then collapsed in his chair and whispered: "Get out of here. You can't come back."
The Bishop held his head in his hands and wept. "Get out!"
I ran down the hall crying.
Behind me I heard what sounded like his heavy robe hitting the wall.
"My son!", the Bishop cried.
Crashes as the Bishop threw all the papers, books and ornaments off his desk.