Slouching toward Zion and More Lies

Mission to Mexico

Mission to Mexico j I In Chillicothe, the Baptist Church was pastored by old men on their way to the cemetery or young men on their way to the seminary. Bruce McCoy was on his way from Jerry Falwell’s Liberty College to Southwestern Baptist Seminary with a layover as pastor of Chillicothe. McCoy was so young he could make it through an entire Baptist service, including an invitation to join the church accompanied by every stanza of “Just As I Am” repeated twice, without going to the bathroom. He was so new to the ministry he hadn’t learned to hate the sinner and envy the sin. He was so innocent he thought oral sex was a greater sin than corrupting the Supreme Court, even if the sex partner were as eager to be corrupted as the Supreme Court. When he was eight-years-old, Bruce McCoy was mightily moved by the story of Nathan the prophet branding King David, “Thou art the man!” From that moment, “the real McCoy ” as he liked to be called, fantasized about condemning his parents, teachers, and the principal. Later it became sales clerks, fast-food employers, and those who worked in college admissions offices. By the time he got to Liberty College, Bruce McCoy lusted after the authority to point his finger at a senator , president, or pope and say, “Thou art the man!” McCoy had learned that only three professions offered such power. Judges had the most authority—“by the neck until dead”—but that meant law school, years of seeking experience in an unsavory business, and pandering to special interests whether the judgeship was by appointment or election. 121 Doctors made the most money—“$10,000 or die”—but that meant medical school on some offshore island with suspicious food, and catering to those who were disgustingly sick, bored, or wealthy. He didn’t mind the handwashing. He washed his hands after touching anyone. Preachers had the easiest path from decision to denunciation —“thou art the man—” four years of Bible drill at Liberty College and ordination by his home church. He had often thought of being a minister but his church had only two offices for ministers—business managers who were called pastors and entertainers who were called evangelists. There was no need for theologians because everything that could be written without heresy had already been written. Anything new raised questions and caused doubt. Ordination required more of McCoy than college, not because of the questions he had to answer correctly, but because other ordained men placed on his head the hands that had caught coughs and sneezes, tied shoelaces dragged across lawns and parking lots, and scratched pits and crotches. He dodged congratulations to bolt home and scrub his hair with disinfectant shampoo. He was chosen; he didn’t need their blessing. Ordination gave McCoy the authority to quote God when denouncing those with whom he disagreed; he was unencumbered by a wife. It wasn’t that he lacked interest but the girls he liked preferred doctors and lawyers. Baptist preachers, like sopranos , never got the girl. The first month in Chillicothe, McCoy had condemned those present for not attending church, for not protesting television programing, and for not demanding that creationism be taught in public schools, pointing a finger at the congregation and shouting, “Thou art the man.” The result had been startled deacons jarred from their dreams of sugarplum virgins and tittering choir members who watched the dozers lurch out of sleep. No one had confessed their sins or repented of them. 122 SLOUCHING TOWARD ZION AND MORE LIES Brother McCoy turned his attention to the youth who were easier to intimidate. Young people no longer risked for the Lord, he declared, they no longer suffered for righteousness. He pointed his finger at the three boys and four girls who were the young people, and shouted “Thou art the man.” The youths proved to be no readier to confess their sins than their parents. To rouse them from their lethargy, McCoy announced that he would take them on a mission to La Vida, Mexico. They would travel in Born Again, the ancient Suburban a member had donated to the church in lieu of two years of tithing. In Mexico they would sing, he would preach and together they would deliver Mexicans from Satan. The young people were delighted, their parents were agreeable , the deacons...