The Priest and The Parson

By Dan Weatherington

Can two ministers from different faiths bring about change? Can the two look at the world, say “This is wrong” and make it right? Can these same two ministers take a look at their own faiths, see things that are wrong and create something entirely new? Can two people’s love of God be greater than their commitment to the past? Yes!
The Priest and the Parson looks at ministers as what they are, real people with real strengths and real weaknesses, not the super human people would like to believe their ministers to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dan Weatherington
• Release date: Sep 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476059754

Dan Weatherington

Dan Weatherington was born in Raleigh, North Carolina, the only son of Harry Rodman and Mary Weatherington. Much of his childhood was spent at his aunt's home on the Pamlico River, the influence of which is obvious in his novel Brandywine Bay. And, influences of which are shown in the novel The Seventh Gift of God. Dan attended grammar school in Raleigh and high school at Carlisle Military School in Bamberg, South Carolina. His college years were spread between The Citadel in Charleston, South Carolina, the University of South Carolina and North Carolina State University in Raleigh. He and Judy married in August 1969 and remain married today. She worked to allow him to complete school and together they have two children, Wendy and Leslie. At age 31, Dan was elected to join the Masons. By the time he was forty, he had found a niche in Masonic research and writing. Most of his work has been of a Masonic nature and has been published in Masonic publications throughout the United States and Canada. He is Dean Emeritus of Wilkerson College, North Carolina's College of Freemasonry, has been the Chair of the Committee on Masonic Education of the Grand Lodge of North Carolina for several years and writes quarterly columns for the Philalethes, a publication of an international Masonic research society. In addition, he publishes the Lodge Night Program, a quarterly educational booklet distributed to almost four hundred Masonic lodges across North Carolina. The novel Recognizing Prince Hall will hopefully be a tribute to the gallant men who have done much to erase racism in North Carolina Masonry and their efforts to accomplish this task. His novel Blemished Harvest documents his career in the Mortgage Banking industry and how he was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in 1986. While many would have given up after such a diagnosis, Dan and Judy still continue to be active in their community and own and operate businesses in their hometown.

Book preview

THE PRIEST AND THE PARSON

TWO GREAT MEN WHO DIDN’T FEAR

TO SAIL WEST

By Dan Weatherington

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013

Dan Weatherington

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual locales, events or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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Books written by Dan Weatherington can be obtained either through the

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www.danweatherington.com

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A Personal Message from the Author:

I love to write books and I love to hear from my readers. If you enjoy this book or any of my other books, it would mean so much to me if you would click on http://www.danweatherington.com

to send me a short email, introduce yourself and say hello. I will always respond to you and value your thoughts.

THE PRIEST AND THE PARSON

TWO GREAT MEN WHO DARED

TO SAIL WEST

By Dan Weatherington

-Dedicated to a real Priest and a real Parson, two real friends, who change lives for the better every day-

Chapter 1 -

You two are aware that you are bound for Hell, aren’t you?

Both boys sat quietly saying nothing.

David, doesn’t the thought of Hell scare you?

With all due respect, Sister, I don’t believe we are headed for Hell.

No, you wouldn’t.

You and that little ruffian beside you are cut from the same cloth. God has sent you to me as a test.

Danny covered his mouth and muttered, I think you’re failing the test, Sister. He muttered the words just loud enough for Davy to hear. Davy began to giggle, not like a girl, but like twelve year old boys do when they’re caught doing something wrong.

I have to admire you two for standing up for the other children, but why does it always have to be with your fists?

Fists work, muttered Danny in the same low voice. Davie’s entire body shook trying to hide his giggling.

David, do you find something funny about all this?

Yes, Sister Mary Margaret, I do. Michael has been taking Larry’s lunch money for over a week, so Danny and I decided to speak with him.

"Speak with him? Is that what you call it? The boy’s blood is all over the sidewalk, his nose is probably broken and his father is on his way here now to speak to Father Crane. And you two spoke to him?"

We tried to reason with–

I don’t want to talk about this anymore. For three long years you two Robin Hoods have taken upon yourself to protect the children of this school. You act like God was calling you to do it.

Humph, he called me, muttered Davy, didn’t he call you?

Oh yes, twice. I remember it well. There was this loud, booming voice and–

The two of them broke out laughing. There was no attempt to hide their laughter from the nun.

That’s it. The two of you are suspended for the rest of the day. I am going to teach you two some humility if it kills me.

Promises, promises, said Danny through his laughter. Davy laughed even harder.

You two get out of here and report to me first thing in the morning, now get out, screamed the nun.

As the children were reporting to class the next morning at Saint Titus Catholic School, they walked past two boys on their knees scrubbing the sidewalk.

Davy straightened up on his knees and wiped his forehead. Let me see if I understand this. Us being down here on our knees scrubbing the sidewalk with these two little brushes is supposed to teach us humility, have I got that right?

That’s what she said.

Do you believe her?

Nah, but it’s keeping us out of class. It works for me.

Good point, but I’m having second thoughts about this whole religion thing anyhow. The penguin and Father Crane have been on our cases forever. We do something right, and it offends God. We don’t do anything and it offends God. Seems to me that God can’t make up his mind. I think I’ll become a Baptist.

Whew, that would kick Jesus in the nuts.

I prefer to think it would kick Sister Mary Margaret in the nuts.

You think she has nuts?

You really think there’s a woman under all that cloth.

Good point. The possibility does stretch the imagination.

Besides, this may be our last adventure.

What do you mean? asked Davie.

I haven’t said anything to you, but I think my parents are breaking up.

Bummer.

No, they argue all the time, it might be for the best, I don’t know.

Most kids blame themselves when their parents split. You doing that?

No, I hear ‘em arguing, but they don’t mention my name. Besides, I haven’t done anything, or nothing I can think of.

You may be right, this may have been our last fling.

Don’t tell me your parents are splitting.

No, nothing like that. It’s just that my old man got word yesterday, they may be laying off at the mill and if he get’s laid off, all that Christian charity crap you hear around here ends. No tuition check, no Danny at Saint Titus.

Davie’s parents did break up and Danny’s father was laid off. Within a year, Davie’s mother moved out of state taking him with her and Danny’s parents moved two hundred miles away to get work. It seemed the two close friends were never again to meet.

Fifteen years later, Father Daniel West began work in a small church in his hometown. There was no rectory so he took a room at Mrs. Peele’s Rooming House on East Street. Mrs. Peele’s was a nice place. It was clean and Mrs. Peele was an excellent cook as attested by her rather large girth.

As the roomers sat for supper one Tuesday evening, Mrs. Peele looked across the table. Father West, I may be renting a room to a Baptist preacher I spoke with today, will it be a problem?

I don’t understand, why would there be a problem?

I didn’t know. I just wanted to make sure.

Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Peele, but I think everything will be okay.

I didn’t know, some of you preachers–

Everything will be fine, Mrs. Peele. Now, if you’ll pass the potatoes.

The next evening when Father Daniel returned to the rooming house, the door to the room next to his was ajar. On the bed was an open suitcase. Daniel assumed the Baptist preacher Mrs. Peele had mentioned was moving in. He tapped on the door. Reverend, he called. He could hear steps moving toward the door.

When the door swung open, though it had been fifteen years, he recognized his old best friend Davy. He was aghast.

Davy? Davy Tate?

Danny, I can’t–

I will be damned, said Father Daniel. I never thought...

Come in, close the door and sit down, it’s been too long.

Way too long, and you, a Baptist preacher. You did kick Jesus in the nuts.

No, like I told you along time ago. I kicked Sister Mary Margaret in the nuts. He grinned a broad grin.

I wonder if she’s still alive?

Oh, I figure she’s somewhere up in Heaven telling some poor angel the proper way to do his job, or her job, or whatever angels are. I see you kept the faith of Mother Church.

Oh no, somewhere along the line I found out about something called women and if that didn’t do the Pope and his gang in, that vow of poverty did. I am an Anglican, an Episcopal priest.

Ah yes, an Anglican, all the ritual without the guilt. How have you been doing?

Well, I am happy. And you, a Baptist, a Baptist preacher.

I told you I was going to do it, and I did.

Let me guess, too much structure and not enough God.

Davy smiled. You got it! I’m not complaining, but why are you here?

Excuse me, I didn’t introduce myself, I am Father Daniel West from the Welcome Wagon, pleased welcome you to Mrs. Peele’s.

Oh hell, said Daniel as he hugged his old friend. It’s been too long, Davy.

It has, Danny, it has. It’s about time for supper. Mrs. Peele gets real testy when you’re late. I’ll let you get ready then come on down.

That sounds like a winner. I’ll be right down.

Little was said during supper. Mrs. Peele introduced the new minister to the other residents and since their seats were at opposite ends of the massive table, the best they could do was an occasional nod. After supper, Father Daniel motioned for Davy to join him on the front porch.

The two went out on the huge front porch that covered the entire front of the rooming house. They sat in two of the twelve white oak rocking chairs that sat in a line across the porch. As they came outside, the smell of honeysuckle enveloped them.

It’s nice out here, said Davie. Any of the rest come out?

Every now and then, Mr. Perkins, the thin man with the big ears comes out, but not often. Most of the time, I think they prefer the air conditioning inside.

How long have you been back?

Going on two months. You remember when we left?

Yea, I remember. I thought I had lost my best friend.

Danny smiled. You had. Dad found a job at some textile plant, but that didn’t last long. And, from then on we were like migrant laborers. Dad went from job to job and we tagged along. When I graduated from high school, and they kept going, but I stayed.

I tried to write you, but the letters came back.

I would imagine, I guess we moved six or seven times in that five years. There was no way a letter could find me. I wish one had. I missed my old friend.

And, you became an Episcopal priest.

Yep, my parents carried the church and the Pope to every new place we moved. God was going to do this, and God was going to do that, and good Catholics do this and good Catholics don’t do that. I couldn’t see where God was doing anything. And, I damn sure didn’t see where being a good Catholic was getting my father or my mother anywhere. Long before I was on my own, I was fed up with being a Catholic and for a while I dated an Episcopal girl. She took me to her church and that was it. There it was, all that ritual and hoopla I had grown up with. . . and loved, and not one shred of the ‘this is a sin’ crap and you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Oh yes, I know exactly what you’re talking about, but I also know you wanted to be a priest. I figured. . .

What? I’d become a Jesuit or something? No way. Like I said, I found girls. But, I did still want to be a priest. I met with the priest at my girlfriend’s church and he was a really nice guy. We became friends. We talked about religion, politics, things we might not should have talked about, but not once, I mean not once did he say ‘God wants us to or ‘the Bible tells us that we should’. Not once. All that stuff I hated was gone. Long story short, I got involved in the church, mt the Bishop, became a deacon, which for us is sort of like an assistant priest, applied for a scholarship to the seminary, and here I am. Father Daniel West. Roman collar without the Roman hang-ups."

In other words, you found what you wanted.

I guess so.

Is it perfect?

Absolutely not, most Episcopalians suffer from a bad superiority complex.

You mean inferiority complex.

"Oh no, superiority. . . they think they’re better than anyone else. No, let me take that back. They think they’re better than everyone else."

I hate to bust your bubble, buddy, but Episcopalians don’t have a corner on that. Most Baptists believe their way is the only way. They believe that if you’re not a foot washing Baptist, you’re bound for Hell.

That is funny. Don’t you remember how they used to tell us straight out that if you weren’t Catholic, You were going to Hell.

Oh yes, Hell must be one crowded place.

They looked at each other and laughed like they had done fifteen years before. Mrs. Peele heard the laughter and stepped out onto the porch. You two seem to be getting along well.

Davy answered, Yes, we were just discussing. . .

Theology, chimed in Danny.

Yes, theology.

I don’t understand, she said as she shook her head and slipped back inside.

Another round of laughter began.

And you, a Baptist of all things.

I told you I was going to do that years ago.

You did, but you didn’t ever say you were going to be a Baptist preacher.

No, and I had no intentions of becoming one, but I was different than you. You loved all the ritual, I didn’t. I thought it was just so much hoopla. I couldn’t see where it had one thing to do with God. Somehow, I couldn’t see Jesus giving less of a damn how many candles there were on the altar or if I genuflected the correct way. You remember how they used to yell at the altar boys if we missed a word or took a wrong step?

Oh yes, I remember it well, too well.

I just didn’t see where that stuff was important. Anyway, you know my parents broke up.

Oh yes.

Well, of all people, my mom fell in love and married a Baptist minister.

If I remember correctly, your mom was Miss Super Catholic.

Oh yes, that was my mother.

I’ll bet there were some heated discussions in that house.

Oh there were, but you know something? No matter how much they disagreed, there was never the hate that there between my mom and dad. The guy loved my mother and the guy loved me. The man was wonderful.

Really? A Baptist preacher?

I never saw anyone like him before. He was there whenever a member of his congregation needed him and the amazing part, he was there whenever I needed him. I used to slip into the church when he was preparing his sermon. The man’s voice was magic. It was almost magnetic. You could watch the people in the congregation almost move toward him when he was preaching. And, it wasn’t that old Pentecostal stuff. Every word that came out of that man’s mouth was love and I wanted to be just like him.

Did you make it?

Did I make what?

Are you like him?

I’m still trying.

Let’s see, how do I ask this? Where are you working? Where are you preaching? What’s the right way?

Probably where am I preaching. I don’t know, I never had to ask anyone the question. But, to answer your question, I deliver my first sermon at the Meredith Baptist Church this Sunday and I am nervous.

Why? Haven’t you delivered sermons before?

Oh yes, in the Marne Corps. I was a chaplain for years, but it’s not the same. These people can walk out.

I’m sure you’ll do fine.

I wish I was as sure as you are.

You could try praying.

I had rather have a written guarantee.

I don’t believe that’s available. You want to slip down to Saint Titus and see if Father Crane is still around? He can give you a blessing.

I’m not that worried.

The following Sunday, Pastor David Tate delivered his first sermon at Meredith Baptist Church to a standing room only assembly. Davy wasn’t naive. He knew the majority of those who filled the seats were there out of curiosity to see how a former Catholic delivered the word, and he did his best. At one point during the sermon he thought he saw the congregation move slightly forward. It was inspiring.

A long line waited to shake the new minister’s hand as they left the church and toward the end of the line a firmer grip than usual wrapped his hand and a man pulled him into a hug. You did good, Fella, said the man. As he pulled back he could see it was Danny.

What, no collar?

Today was your show, Davie, and you did great. I believe your stepfather would be proud of you. A tear fell down the young pastor’s cheek.

Thank you for saying that and thank you for being here.

What? You think I would miss the opportunity to see you fall on your ass? Danny realized what he had said and cut a quick, but embarrassed, smile