POSTLUDE
Nadezhda said, "Open it!"
Which Mischa did, immediately feeling the difference in stocks of paper. Looking at the letter, he said, "It's in English." It was instructions. There was a KGB stamp at the bottom: received 30 June 1991. Mischa said the date aloud with some incredulity: "Nineteen ninety-one! We'd been home for 3 1/2 years in 1991! That was when the KGB was still in business!"
He then noted that there was something else at the bottom of the envelope. He turned the envelope upside down, and a small silver chain with a cross fell out. On the cross was engraved the date: January 1983.
Nadezhda picked it up, felt the length of the chain with her fingers, then put it on herself. Mischa noted this as one of those rare times when Nadezhda Borisovna Popova, now Nadezhda Borisovna Petrov, had broken into tears. Or had worn a Christian cross. That was very un-Marxist
Then there was the letter which he read.
PRELUDE TO INTERESTING TIMES
I'd only been the office manager of Reed Street Church for 3 years before drawing a line in the sand. By early 1979, I'd had enough. Dad had said to be loyal to the church above everything, but by 1979 it was that bad. Of course that was before Pastor Tim and Pastor Dale had arrived to turn things around.
No, it had nothing to do with this being a White church. My dad had been a been a founding pastor of the Progressive National Baptist Convention in 1961 when I was a teenager. I had met Dr. King, who had led the, then, 1961 exodus from the National Baptist Convention. The latter had rejected the importance of civil rights, Black folk like us could not abide that. When Dr. King had been ousted for not toeing the line, my dad followed. Dad had been at Zion Baptist Church in Cincinnati. Until his death, my dad served congregations which allied themselves with both conventions. Thus, his congregations were mainly African-American, but also racially diverse.
CHURCH VEGAS
To be honest, three years before getting fed up, in 1976 I'd simply needed the job. I was a daughter of the manse, and had congregational life in my bones. I'd also heard my dad many times - usually over family dinner - say that it was really 'the secretary' who ran the church. He'd say, "The secretary can make or break any man in the pulpit."
For the sake of my dad, I had stayed at Reed Street Church through its troubles. I'd just not known that being in the office would put me in the middle of the firing line of factions. Reed Street Church was an independent church in Alexandria, Virginia. At the time it had advertised itself as 'Progressive', as well as non-aligned. It took me a week to see the place not as 'Progressive', but as 'regressive'. 'Non-aligned' meant that there were no denominational standards. The local 'power brokers' controlled the board. It was bad.
I'll write this as briefly as I can, simply to set up what I really want to talk about, only as background as to what was to come. I actually do want to talk about what turned it around.
I also want to address - at length - why I'm writing this to begin with: namely, what Pastor Tim got mixed up in. That was to be something completely foreign to anything either me or my family had experienced - inside or out of the church.
The answer I actually needed: what the heck to do with the envelope Alice (Pastor Tim's wife) had passed to me? When Pastor Tim had gone missing? Ok, that's for later…. really later!
So here's the prelude, put as briefly as I can.
When I was hired in 1976 to run the office, Reed Street Church had a dark secret, one that the, then, board was actively covering up. The, then, pastor as well as one of the more important board members were harassing women. Badly. A tag team. It was disgusting that a pastor would do such a thing, never with me. On choir night, after board meetings, during a pastoral visit. Whenever a someone tried to raise a complaint, that first guy would simply donate a larger pile of cash. That would quell dissent.
I can still hear my dad at the dinner table, troubled by whatever had happened to him (in his day) as a pastor. Mamma would ask about it. He'd always say that he couldn't talk about it. That's when mamma would quip, 'Church Vegas. What happens in church-Vegas stays in church-Vegas.' Then we'd get on with the meal in silence.
So it was with church secrets - I learned as a young girl to keep silent. Secrets were a church's cancer.
Ok, that's the prelude. At the beginning of 1979, I drew a line in the sand at Reed Street Church, job or no job. I was rescued from resigning, because the pastor himself had resigned, he was moving to California. The continuing presence of that board member hinged on who would be called next. Would the new pastor be a harassment-buddy?
The board was now advertising for two pastor positions (one half-time). Plus a youth pastor. The irony was that it was the illicit money which had made it possible.
Pastor Dale Woods had wowed the hiring committee. When he'd met with the board, he'd wowed them too. Only downside - he was not married. He was hired on the spot as the full-time, senior pastor. The only opposition came from the money-man, but his donations were already in hand. He'd also voted in favour of a five-year plan which had called for an, 'expanded ministry team,' to take Reed Street Church into the 'Progressive '80s', as was the slogan.
That campaign alone had filled our pews. Many liberal baptists were fleeing the conservative turn that Southern Baptists were taking, and Reed Street Church benefited, all-be-they mainly white folk. Me, I was the busiest I'd ever been. With Pastor Dale there, the line in the sand for me was now a thing of the past.
Just as well, I really needed that job.
CONCLUSION TO A PRELUDE
For continuing context, Pastor Dale had been in the senior pastor's office for only two weeks. Fourteen days. The half-time associate pastor's position was still unfilled. Zach had been hired as youth-pastor and his groups were already growing. We were seeing teenagers, young families and 20-somethings in the pews - coming out of the woodwork. I had hours added to my job, I really needed that extra income. I made it my business to help Pastor Dale in those first few days in who he should be visiting.
Pastor Dale just needed a chance just like my dad had.
Then he called me into his office. "Hey Jackie, I wanted you to be the first to know." What now? He'd been at Reed Street Church for all of fourteen days! "I've just been asked to lecture at Wesleyan Seminary in D.C. Tonight I'm asking the board to shift me to the 1/2-time associate position. Turns out I can't work full-time, and also teach at the seminary."
Oh no. Pastor Dale had not asked, but I heavily recommended that he spend his time between then and that evening visiting with three people. Board members who had been critical of the shenanigans of the past few years, but always caved into the 'power people', including the remaining guy who'd donated all that money.
Pastor Dale visited who I pointed him to. It worked. Those three stood their ground this time. They backed Pastor Dale's request. The caveat? It had an 'if' attached to it.
They would move Pastor Dale to the half-time position on July 1st, 1979, if and only if he himself could recruit a suitable candidate for the senior position. Someone who could inspire the congregation in the new Progressive 80s direction. Someone who Pastor Dale could work with. Someone who would support Zach in his youth ministry.
The board was risking a lot. Placing this into Pastor Dale's hands with such a short timeline had undercut the money man. It was so satisfying to see his money lose influence so quickly. The money man had tried one last 'manipulation', a huge one-time donation. It was a large amount of money!
It didn't work. Pastor Dale had talked with an old friend of his, a progressive pastor straight from a mission in South America. He, Pastor Dale and the board were meeting that night.
Yet Reed Street Church had the cash! And soon after agreeing to Pastor Dale's plan, the manipulative board member left the church. For good. With his money safely in the church's account. (I knew, I had deposited it!)
Years later, Pastor Dale was of the opinion that it had been me who'd engineered the money-man's take down. I had not. I had merely made it possible for the guy's cheque to clear before he could put 'stop payment' on it. That's all I had done.
It is often hard to see the hand of God in these things. But I truly believe that it had been God's hand which had, by that July 1st deadline, brought Pastor Tim and his wife Alice, to join Pastor Dale and Zach. He'd been a friend of Pastor Dale's. Newly married, he was fresh from mission work in Ecuador. He was a wonderful speaker. He was filled with the Spirit. He was practical. He and Pastor Dale formed a formidable team.
All things being equal, I could see him as one of the white faces in my dad's old church. I won't say he was colour-blind. Both he and Pastor Dale had not lived where my dad served. But they idolized Dr. King and were committed to the Progressive 80s path Reed Street Church had set itself on.
What could go wrong?
As Pastor Tim used to say, my oh my.
Not to mention - years later, what to do with Alice's letter she'd given me to hold?
STILL ON MY TOES
Still, I kept my eyes open. I fulfilled the role that my dad had spoken of - the secretary of a church, she was the centre of a wheel. Even the pastors, they were out there on the 'rim of ministry' as dad would say, the secretary was the lone-hub to whom all the spokes on the rim were connected.
Even for the pastors.
Why was it that I became so loyal to Pastor Tim? Because in 1980, he approached some of the women who'd been abused by his predecessor. He'd wanted to know how to 'make it right'. He kept it quiet so as not to embarrass the women, or make them public when they'd not wanted that.
I did not know the ins and outs of it, but Reed Street Church's former pastor, ended up being removed from ministry out in California.
Word must have gone around Reed Street Church's homes, particularly the young moms and families. I don't want to reduce everything to 'money' - but by the end of 1980 we were balancing our budget - with a small surplus - without the money man's money.
By the end of 1980? Larger events took over. They invigorated us further. In November, arch-conservative Ronald Reagan beat sitting president Jimmy Carter. Just as Reed Street Church was committed to a Progressive 80s, the whole country had gone in reverse.
All of that had had positive effect on our congregation. Indeed, teenagers swarmed the place for a John Lennon vigil, the day after he'd been shot. That had hit them like Dr. King's killing had hit my family. This church was a real antidote to the backsliding of American society.
Reed Street Church was set. Pastor Tim was an inspiration. Zach was changing lives in his youth group.
There was nothing that could derail this.
