“Well, yes, I suppose so.” Then she teared up.
Alicia had pulled the whole story out of her when Kat, Marta, and Barbara showed up.
“What’s wrong, Nona?” Barbara asked.
Nona struggled to compose herself. Alicia gave them the abbreviated version.
“So because she thinks you were being heretical, your aunt broke a Trinitarian tape?” Kat asked.
“Next time Mrs. Waters wants an example of irony in English class, I know what to say,” Alicia agreed.
“She saw it only as a rock and roll tape,” Nona told them. “I’m not allowed to go to the Celtic services any more, either.”
“I doubt our parents would let us go to them, either,” Marta said.
“Could you go somewhere else?” Barbara asked. “What about Alicia’s church?”
Alicia laughed. “Nona is trying to concentrate on worship, not on having everyone talk.”
Nona shot her best friend a grateful look.
“What about the other up-time churches? Church of Christ?”
“I’ve had enough legalistic nonsense,” Nona stated.
“Ouch.”
“Well, I have. Look, they don’t have instrumental music in church because they can’t find where it is explicitly commanded in the New Testament. That puts them in the same camp as the Calvinists—everything not specifically allowed is forbidden. If I were going to pick one of the other churches, it would be Lutheran, where anything not specifically forbidden is allowed.”
“Adiaphora,” Kat supplied.
“I like the theory,” Nona said. “But the Lutherans don’t really follow it. They have their own list of doctrines which must be correctly believed in order to be saved. Kat, you’ve called Johannes Musaeus out on that often enough.”
Kat nodded vigorously. “I will say one thing for Johannes. He has a shorter list than most Lutherans.”
Marta Engelsberg spoke up. “One of Dr. Green’s up-time church histories says that sometimes this time period was called the Age of Protestant Scholasticism. Lots of emphasis on believing things just exactly correctly.”
“Thank you, teacher.” Marta was definitely the historian of the group.
“Up-time there was a reaction.”
“I should hope so,” Alicia muttered.
“Three reactions, really,” Marta continued. “Pietism emphasized a personal relationship with Jesus and living a godly life. Rationalism looked for scientific explanations for everything. Mysticism was exactly what it sounds like.”
“We want pietism, right?” Alicia asked.
“You Methodists ought to,” Marta agreed.
“But pietism with sound doctrine,” Kat warned. “Otherwise it will all fall apart in two generations like in the up-time.”
“What do you mean ‘we Methodists’?” Alicia asked.
“According to the up-time church history book, you are basically English pietists,” Marta answered, “with influences from Calvinism, Arminianism, and the Radical Reformation. But also from the Moravians.”
“Moravians? Wallenstein’s people? I thought he was Catholic.”
“Wallenstein converted to Roman Catholicism. His father was Lutheran, and his mother was an Utraquist. That’s one kind of Hussite. Comenius’s Unitas Fratrum. See, it started with Wycliffe in England. He wasn’t allowed to preach like he wanted, but Jan Huss heard him and began preaching many of the same things in Bohemia. He was burned at the stake by the Council of Constance. In the up-time, about a hundred years from now, a Saxon count named Zinzendorf invited the Hussites to his estate. They became the Moravian church. One of their missionaries was preaching when John Wesley was saved. That is how Wycliffe’s message got back to England.”
“Missionaries?” Nona asked.
Marta told them about the Moravian missionaries and the hundred-year prayer watch.
“Orphanages,” Alicia mused. “I always thought of being a missionary as going somewhere else.”
“Me, too,” Nona confessed. “That’s why we wanted to go back to America.”
“You’re both somewhen else,” Kat pointed out.
“We sure are,” Nona agreed. “Marta, you said this Zinzendorf worked with people from different denominations? Well, I’m grounded. I can’t even go to the Celtic service.”
“What if we brought them to you?”
“How?”
The girls had fun brainstorming increasingly impractical ways to make that happen.
Finally Barbara asked, “Was this tape like the ones at First Baptist that are used to record the sermon?”
“Yes.”
“Could the Celtic monks not record their service?”
“I think we have a tape recorder that still works,” Alicia offered.
Friday, October 19, 1635
“Ugh! I am glad that is over!” Barbara declared as they entered the locker room.
“Soccer’s not so bad,” Alicia stated. “You should try it wearing something other than ankle-length skorts.”
It sparked one more round of an oft-repeated discussion between down-time and up-time girls.
After they had showered and dressed, Nona asked mischievously, “What was that about short skirts?” She pirouetted in her skirt.
“Ah, nothing.”
“You sound like you’re doing better today.”
“I am.”
“Good, because I’ve got a surprise for you,” Alicia told her. “Come to the music rooms.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
“I don’t have long, but I can stay ’til the late bus,” Nona told her. “My aunt is making me go to a youth group activity.”
“Oh?” Alicia asked as they hurried down the hall.
“Michelle Carson, Melisa Higgenbottom, Aaron Craig, Jack Sims…”
“Ah, another of those up-timer youth group activities,” Alicia observed. “Allen Green?”
“Strangely, his name didn’t come up. And Jason Cheng had a family thing. Again.”
“Again. Nona, you might want to talk to Jason and see if he’s having his family plan events on Fridays on purpose. Besides, he’s kinda cute.”
“Alicia!”
They reached the music rooms. Alicia led Nona into one of the rooms.
“Brother Oran!”
“Miss Nona,” he returned as gravely as he always did. “This is Johannes Huber.”
“I have seen you at church, Herr Huber.” Nona shook hands with him.
“And I, you.”
“Herr Huber heard the tape,” Oran explained. “He knew of someone who could fix it.”
“Really?”
Huber produced the tape. Oran slid it in and pushed play. The four of them listened to the up-time song, Oran and Huber drinking it in.
“Thank you so much,” Nona told them.
“I must seek your forgiveness for your aunt’s displeasure,” Oran said.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Nona told him. “Really, it wasn’t.”
Brother Oran inclined his head. “It is kind of you to say so. I understand that you are not allowed to come to our services anymore.”
Nona nodded. “I’m grounded.”
“Miss Alicia brought one of these tape recorders yesterday.” Brother Oran produced a second cassette tape. “Bishop Aidan agreed that she could record the prayer service.”
Nona squealed in surprise. “Thank you! Thank you!” She hugged each of them. Then she switched the cassettes, and the Celtic service filled the room.
Eventually Alicia hit stop and eject. “Nona, you have a bus to catch.”
Al Green
Thursday, November 8, 1635
“Chief Richards can see you now. This way, please.”
Al Green followed the receptionist to the chief’s office.
“Brother Green.” Press Richards came around his desk and shook hands. “Please, have a seat.”
“Thanks, Press.”
“You asked to see me? Is this in an offici
al capacity?”
“I don’t know.” Al Green sat down and sighed. “Press, I’m about to lose my job.”
“Sorry, Brother Green. Wish there were something I could do about it.”
“Pray, of course. But Claudette and I have been doing that, and it’s looking like Albert Underwood will get his way sooner or later.”
“I thought we voted to keep you on.”
“That was in August. After Underwood engineered a deacons’ vote of three to one with one abstaining. That part didn’t set well with a lot of folks—calling a no-confidence vote on the basis of three out of eight deacons. The others didn’t miss another deacon’s meeting, not until October when Hale Myers couldn’t get leave to come down from Magdeburg for a couple days. That vote was three to three with one abstaining. It’s likely that, sooner or later, Underwood will find a way to make it four to three. And y’know, it might be that the good Lord has other plans for me. You know Joe Jenkins left us his farm, on the condition we turn it into a Bible institute.”
“I heard. Do you know where Old Joe went?”
“He left town. Headed north on a steam wagon he cobbled together.”
“He hasn’t been in touch with you, then?”
“Nope.”
“Well, Brother Green, I hear from Dan Frost that there’ve been Old Joe sightings across the USE. Generally trending north to Magdeburg, and then maybe toward one of the ports.”
Al Green chuckled.
“So you’re going to start this Bible institute. Do you plan on having a church up there?”
“I reckon we probably will, for the students and their families. Some of the Anabaptists still attending First Baptist will probably come. They won’t be very welcome after Underwood gets rid of me.”
“So the church is going to split.”
“I’m not asking it to,” Green stated. “I just think that if you tell down-time Germans they can’t drink beer and have to worship in English, some of ’em are going find another place to go.”
“And the up-timers?”
“Some of the nondenominational evangelicals who started coming after the Ring of Fire have already left. The Chengs started their own house church. They’re worshipping in a mixture of Chinese, German, and English.”
Press chuckled. “I bet that frosts Albert Underwood but good.”
“I expect so. Claudette was talking to Kathy Sue Burroughs the other day. Her husband Reed has been preaching every Sunday. Some men from his unit, a few from other units, sometimes a handful of people from the town they’re in at the time. They’re in Bohemia now, and he’s made contact with the Hussites. Kathy Sue’s parents are up in Erfurt. Garland and Mary Sue Alcom are holding services for whomever shows up. So you might say this whole situation is multiplying churches.”
Press Richards leaned back in his office chair. “So you are multiplying churches rather than dividing the congregation. But really you are going to add one church and subtract some members from the other.”
Al Green winced. “I wish you wouldn’t put it that way, Press. It’s accurate enough. I just don’t like the terminology. You see, add, subtract, multiply, divide is one of the ways of diagnosing a cult.”
Chief Richards’ expression darkened. “Funny you should mention that. Please, explain.”
“Add to the word of God, subtract from the person of Christ, multiply what you have to do to be saved, divide loyalty.
“It’s easy enough to tell when someone’s adding to the Bible, but sometimes it’s subtler, acting like the leader’s books or sermons are almost Scripture. Subtracting from the person of Christ—well, He’s fully God and fully man. When you leave out one or the other, you got a problem ’cause if He’s not both, He can’t save. As far as multiplying requirements for salvation, some groups come right out and say, ‘You have to do this, this, and this.’ Others at least give lip service to saved by grace through faith. But then they turn right around and say ‘if you aren’t doing this, this, and this, then you aren’t in the will of God.’ I don’t mean living in sin. I’m talking about the leader’s pet hobbyhorses. And dividing loyalties is dividing a person’s loyalty between God and the group’s leader—usually to the exclusion of their family and friends, too.”
Press jotted that down on a pad and stared at it. “That’s pretty catchy,” he allowed. “Does it always work?”
Green ran through a few examples he knew Chief Richards would remember from up-time.
“All right, so it’s a good diagnostic tool for preachers.”
“Well, it’s also what I came in here about, Press.”
“Oh?”
“There are new groups coming into Grantville all the time now. Some of them could be trouble.”
“Yeah, I know.” Richards’ voice was harsh. “We lost Fred Jordan trying to protect a group that probably trips at least some of what you just said. But they’re harmless and being persecuted by the big churches—who’ve been on their best behavior since Krystalnacht, of course.”
Al Green nodded. “I’m with you on that. A lot of Protestants who ought to know better slip into the more subtle form of multiplying requirements for salvation. For that matter, doesn’t Underwood’s position boil down to ‘if you’re in the will of God you’ll follow these rules’?”
Chief Richards sighed. “Al, I know you must be sore about this, but not everybody’s a potential cultist. I can’t arrest anybody for fitting your four math points here.”
“’Course not. Trying to compel people to believe the right thing is wrong—and ineffective. No, I’m hearing things about a new group. They sound like Socinians, but—”
“Bro—”
Green held up a hand. “Hear me out, Press. I’m not suggesting you investigate Socinians. If you were going to do that, you’d pretty much have to open a file on Mary Simpson.”
Chief Richards winced.
“Yeah, Unitarianism is a development of Socinianism which in turn diverged from the Anabaptist movement. But this group…Kat Meisnerin put me on to them. She said Young Joe—Joe Engelsberg, that is—ran into a street preacher. That was in September. I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground, and here’s what I know. I’ve heard of three different street preachers in Grantville and others elsewhere. I actually listened to one of them for a while. They use some Anabaptist language but they’re not really part of it. They’re sent out by a Brother Caspar. They describe him as a skilled speaker and a strong leader. I’d use the word charismatic except that that would confuse people, make them think he’s part of Chalker and Fischer’s bunch. He’s not. Brother Chalker I disagree with, but he’s a good man trying to point people to God. See, this Brother Caspar is having his preachers tell people God’s made a new revelation to him, about how the Ring of Fire figures into the end times. His preachers are pointing people to him, telling them to follow Caspar no matter what.”
Press Richards nodded. “Yeah, I know who you mean. There’s been some pushing and shoving. Just another group of crazies, though, right? I mean, it’s not like we’ve got a shortage. Uh, you didn’t hear me say that.”
Al Green leaned forward. “I think this group bears watching, Press. See, they quote this Brother Caspar’s revelations on par with Scripture. That’s the adding. They don’t think Jesus was God. That’s the subtracting. They had a whole laundry list of what you had to do to survive the end times. That’s the multiplying. And following Brother Caspar is the dividing of loyalties.”
“So you think they’re a cult?”
“Oh, I know they’re a cult. Unlike the Stiefelites or the Socinians, I think these guys have the potential to be dangerous.” He let that sink in a minute. “Like I said, Press, I think I’m about to lose my job. If so, I’ll be up on the mountain getting the Bible institute going. I won’t hear as much of what’s going on in town. So I’m saying something to you now. This could be more important than what’s going on at First Baptist.”
“Appreciate it, Brother Green,” Richards said. “I
’ll pass that along to my officers. We’re not going to violate anyone’s rights, but after the Dreeson Incident, I don’t want to get caught by surprise, either. And I’ll pass it along to Dan Frost next time we talk.”
“Thank you.” Green leaned back.
“How long do you figure?” Press asked.
“’Til they vote me out?” Green asked. “Until Underwood finds an issue that changes one more deacon’s mind, I suppose. Unless the good Lord has plans to the contrary.”
Anna Mae Foster
Monday, November 19, 1635
“Well if you ask me, Brother Al Green is the number one religious problem in this town! Why let me tell you…” Anna Mae Foster proceeded to recite her pastor’s failings into the phone at great length.
Finally the person on the other end of the line interrupted.
“That’s right, Lois. Roger Dobbs ran off somewhere. Mary Jean went after him, and left their kids here in Grantville. Her daughter’s been getting into all sorts of trouble. Carole Ann caught her sneaking out with Catholics, if you can believe that.”
She paused while Lois replied.
“Yep, just like your Emily…”
Anna Mae actually edged the phone away from her ear a bit. Willard and Lois Carson hadn’t spoken to their daughter Emily since she married Joe Ugolini.
“No, I have no idea if she actually intends to marry him,” she finally got in.
A few minutes later, she added, “No, they were listening to rock and roll.…”
There was another pause.
“Yes, Lois, all of us up here at the Manning Center agree with you about that. I know everybody at Bowers does, too.”
Lois spoke again at some length.
“Huh. Well, if you think we can do it. I sure want to add no rock and roll music to our list of expectations, but do you think we convince five deacons?”
This pause was shorter.
“Albert Underwood and Willard, of course. And Chauncey Monroe and Bert Dotson…Hmfph. Well, Lois, you simply must talk to Okey.…Yes, I know he’s married to your niece.…No, I don’t think any of the other three will change their minds although one would expect that Lincoln Reynolds would see things the same way as Bert. Desiree Reynolds was a Dotson, you know.…No, come to think of it I don’t know what Larry Ray Reynolds thinks of the whole thing. Keeps to himself, don’t he?”