"The church ought to be separated from the state, and the state from the church."
- Pope Pius IX
"..the government of the United States of America is in no sense founded on the Christian Religion...."
-US Treaty of Tripoli, 1797-JUN-10:
Josh watched the orange-draped monk pass through the common room, in search of the hidden Michele, from his room. He shook his head. "He's going to be attacked."
"Jon's got faith," was the reply from the bathroom.
"In Christ? If not, it doesn't matter."
Water sloshed, bristles scratched. "You have Windex? Need to clean the mirrors."
"Oh, yes." The man leaned over to the windowsill and plucked the blue bottle from its perch. He got up and padded over to the second-floor bathroom, then peeked inside.
A short-haired Asian woman of petite stature was engaged in an honest beating of the toilet. In shorts and a tank, she wrestled with the brush inside and the scrubber outside at the same time. Neon white suds showed on the ivory surfaces.
"You cleaned this bathroom two days ago, " he said, confused.
She was the youngest of their college group, a freshman when the government shut the University down. But it wasn't her position in the fellowship that made her clean.
She corrected him. "Five days."
And in that week since the stoning, she had attacked with insane vigor the lower bathroom, all the rugs in the house, all the windows inside and out, the kitchen twice, the floors, the attic, the garage, the cobwebs -- he found it hard to believe that a shred of dust could exist in the house. Or dirt. Or germs. Or even two stones on top of one other.
She made Martha Steward look like a mud wrestler, when she was driven by anxiety. She often was - no one knew whether it was because of general anxiety, or perhaps Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.
"He doesn't believe in God," Josh said, returning to their Buddhist roommate.
scrataskrshhscratach.
The woman refused to debate such an obvious fact.
"He has not accepted--"
Evie looked up. Josh stopped. He didn't like to argue with Evie, because he knew how it ended up each time. Neither would agree, and she'd be cold for days. Seeing as how she was one of the few people that talked to him, or openly tolerated him in the group, that was not a good possibility.
A flush, and the old, water-wasting toilet became Charybdis. Potent symbolism for their lives right now.
She stood and plucked the windex from his hand, misted it over the mirror. His reflection grew distorted, inhumanized.
"That's how I believe."
"Rachel?"
Josh opened his mouth immediately, then shut it from guilt. He tried again, and suceeded, straining himself: "She never said she wasn't Christian. There are Christian Humanists, you know. Maybe she was only saying it to get attention..."
He stopped again, trailing off. You could see the ellipse, the obvious lie to the words. But Evie didn't take advantage of his temporary weakness of position. That wasn't how she worked. Her method was much worse.
One passage of clarity through the looking glass. Josh saw himself, clean-shaven, dirty blonde hair. Even with a fair build, he towered over Evie.
The younger woman finished wiping down the mirror. Once done, she sat down on the floor and sighed.
"And do you think that they were right to stone her?"
Josh jumped back into the wall, shocked at the simplicity of Evie's accusation. "Never! It's only her right to say what she believes in, even if it's against Christ. She shouldn't have been killed!"
"She said Jesus was mortal. That he sinned. That he wasn't the Son of God. That the government was not correct in it's actions."
"Even if what she said was blasphemy, she shouldn't be dead!" he exclaimed.
Evie looked up, looked through him. "But that's the bible's exact punishment for blasphemy. Exodus, I believe. And in multiples of other places." Her voice laid the trap for him.
Josh stood firm. "Holiness Code. We are not the Israelites, Evie."
She looked to the side, out the door, and he followed her gaze. He could see Gabriel passing through, going to his rooms. "Then why do you demonize him to me?" she asked, nodding in the Wiccan's direction. "That 'man laying with man as woman' is part of the Holiness Code. If part of the Code is invalid..."
This time, she left off. And in the best spot - because Josh filled in the blank in his mind better than any phrasing she could pull up.
"Are you calling me a hypocrite?!" he demanded.
Evie's demeanor grew soft, but hidden. "I did not say anything." She got up, sorted the cleaning instruments in a bucket.
Josh watched her as she passed by him, overloaded with the tools of her trade, going to the closet.
"Yes."
Her head tilted, and her body paused.
"I believe that Rachel is in hell. I believe that what she did was horrendous, to try to steal people from the Faith and lie about Christ." He looked up. "I would never do such a thing. And when she was stoned, I knew that it was the Law."
Half the truth.
Josh pushed off of the wall, trod despondently to Evie. He made eye contact, stood up straight. His hands turned to fists, clenched. "But even if she had desecrated a church, the fact is that she lived in a secular nation. The United States was, and should be, a secular nation. It was Rachel's right to say what she believed. And we all should have the right to think and say what we believe. That was the beauty of the United States: freedom. By becoming a 'Christian' nation, we've destroyed those rights. That can't continue."
She moved to Josh, and took his hands. He felt the shuddering inside her. The fear and faith warring.
She saw his contradictions, his confusions, his determination to God and Constitution uneasily making truce.
They bent their heads down.
Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from all evil. Amen.
He said Ay-men. She said Ah-men.
Doug, hanging out in the kitchen, sneered softly, before calling out to them.
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