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Gospel

Mark Keane

    We gathered in the old Bingo Hall on Eldon Street. Drab surroundings, malachite green walls and worn nylon carpeting. A good turn-out, no empty seats, a hundred or so in attendance. Gilbey told me some nights they had to turn people away. He suggested I go along, said I’d find it interesting. I had nothing better to do-Wednesday nights were quiet. Afterwards, I planned to drop into The Barony for a pint on my way home.

    A burble of voices punctuated by coughing, as the congregation grew restless. A side-door opened and in walked the speaker, carrying a wicker basket and a bottle of water. He wore a duffle-coat, brown cords and desert boots. Average height, slim, in his mid-forties, curly hair thinning at the front. Nothing distinctive, I doubted I’d recognise him if I passed him on the street.

    He put the wicker basket on a table and turned to face the congregation.
    “Terrible weather,” he said with a slight Scottish burr. “Glad you could make it.”
    He unscrewed the bottle and took a sip of water.
    “I won’t keep you long. I’ll just say my piece and answer any questions.”
    A murmur rippled through the room that I interpreted as general approval.

    “There is no God.”
    This was met with a louder murmur, definite approval.
    “There is no evidence of God’s existence and no need for proof of non-existence. I won’t waste your time with specious claims and counter-claims.”
    He leaned back against the table, at ease, neither meek nor cocky.
    “The question is, how do we deal with this reality and manage a productive life?”

    He took another sip of water.
    “I’m not here to tell you what to do, or rail against desires and temptations that will be your undoing. There is no soul, only skin and bone. Why put your hopes in a saviour to sort everything out? You’re not helpless. If you’re anxious, you have every reason to feel that way. Anxiety is not a disorder. It’s a consequence of awareness. Believing in the unbelievable is a symptom of mental illness.”
    “Well said.” An old gent in a flat cap stood, and gave the speaker a thumbs up.

    “Dreading and fearing your fellow man is only to be expected. You should fear others and be appalled by their greed, their spite and ignorance.”
    “Couldn’t agree more.” Flat cap nodded, and sat back down.
    “Don’t look to an imaginary entity for sustenance.” The speaker pursed his lips. “Rely on your intellect and follow your conscience.”
    A middle-aged woman in the front row clapped her hands. “So very true.”

    “No magic spirit fills your heart, giving you strength.” The speaker paused, and closed his eyes for a moment. “The heart has two atria, two ventricles, valves and vessels and no Holy Ghost. There’s just you, nothing more.”
    Movement along the rows of chairs, people turning and whispering.
    “He’s dead right,” said the woman next to me, a granny with a puffy face and two moles on her chin.

    Gilbey had told me the attendees were predominantly regulars with a sprinkling of the curious and aimless.
    “A service for the irreligious,” he explained. “Preaching to the converted but no preachiness or worship. Nothing like that. Very basic. More a vote of confidence in the individual. It’s better you go along and see for yourself.”

    “As for the Trinity,” the speaker continued. “Three distinct consubstantial persons in one person. An absurd notion, predicated on the mystery of faith. Take it for what it is, rationally untenable.”
    A hum of voices, some of the congregation repeating, “Rationally untenable.”
    “No one sent me to talk to you,” he added. “I’m not guided by any divine hand because there is no divine hand or guidance. I am here to say how it is. No dogma or rhetoric or righteousness. Plain and simple, there is no God. No sermon, no judgement, no visions of a charred wasteland caused by sin or a shiny afterlife where non-sinners are rewarded by a benevolent deity.”

    A good speaker, calmly compelling. Not an academic, down from his Ivory Tower or a professional public performer, a politician or union official. Gilbey had said no one knew what he did for a living. Rumour had it that he worked in the Lost and Found at the train station. There was nothing new in what he said. All the same, it was reassuring to hear him express it. More than reassuring, encouraging.

    The voices around me expressed approval.
    “Entirely logical.”
    “Makes sense to me.”
    “It’s how it is.”

    “Are there any questions?” the speaker asked.
    A thin youth in a bobble hat waved his arm. “Do you have a group we can join?”
    “No group, nothing for you to join.” The speaker shook his head. “You’re on your own. There’s no need for a leader as there’s nothing to follow, and no particular goal other than being and making the most of it.”
    “The world’s a mess,” a young woman cried. “What are we to do?”
    “You must find your own way, but don’t expect too much. Pollute less, and help others where you can. Laugh more. Laugh at yourself.”
    “Do you have a cure for a sore knee?” A smart aleck in the back row asked, nudging his sniggering mates.
    “Better see a doctor.” The speaker smiled with no hint of annoyance. “I have no gimmicks, no laying on of hands or miracles. Not a single party piece. I sing out of tune Puccini in the shower, but I won’t subject you to that.”

    He looked around the hall.
    “Any more questions?”
    Nothing from the audience.
    “That’s it then. I wish you a pleasant evening.”
    “Thank you,” came the group response.
    The scrape of chairs, people standing, gathering gloves and scarves. The speaker cleared his throat.
    “Can I ask you to put some change in the basket on your way out? A pound or so from each of you should cover the cost of renting this space.”

    I dropped two pound coins in the basket, joined the others as they funnelled out the door, and listened to their banter.
    “The man knows his stuff.”
    “He put on a good show.”
    “Better than anything on TV.”

    A soft night, the street lights haloed in misty rain. I buttoned my coat and turned up the collar. Feeling better than I had for some time, I headed for The Barony, looking forward to my pint.

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