Attendance was increasing and that was starting to worry Declan. The overall uniformity of the new attendees worried him as well. As did the note taking.
People in white shirts and ties, people who..., no, men, who almost to a one, wore corrective eyewear, had short haircuts and intent eyes, and were looking around at the various fixtures of the church, looking at the banners and stained glass, tapping their fellows, pointing in the direction of some of the icons, recording notes all of it while Declan continued with his sermon.
This wasn't inspirational anymore, he was starting to think he was being audited. Could these people be from the government? Could it be some cult, well no, they just looked like business people, accountants, office workers. The fact that they now outnumbered the Lifers was something he never figured to see again and that was startling as well.
What was going on, he wondered as he continued? They had joined the Maundy Thursday service, they'd even washed feet and now they were back again, who were these guys?
The fellowship coffee hour was equally disturbing, all quoting the same line of interest, spreading out, chatting with parishioners, gathering information, making notes, talking to him, interrogating him, maybe they were from the Synod, Declan realized he'd have to ask about that.
Maybe it was an audit, some hither too unmentioned church audit of his congregation. But they didn't look like synod reps, they couldn't be Anglican anyway, he'd never met an official Anglican in his life whose hair wasn't a tangled floppy mess, they couldn't be from the Synod either, not with grooming like that.
Still… they were intent weren't they, and when they discovered the library, well it was like a feeding frenzy. All of them rushing to peruse the literature there, the gothic images between the pages, they were thirsty for knowledge and Reverend Smalls was sure now that this must end.
As politely as he could he waded into the group and began to collect the material from them, in some cases nearly tugging the books back from the most interested grip.
Their leader suddenly realizing what they must have looked like and stopped. He pulled back and then called the group off before addressing the Reverend directly. He apologized, he didn't mean to scare anyone. They were working on a research project and being the Type A personalities they are when the topic moved onto religion, well, they were all info-nerds and one thing led to another and another thing led to the only church in town.
Declan reared up, nearly a head taller than any of them. He measured his words as he told them that he understood but clearly, carefully he reiterated that this was a house of worship, the books were for worshippers. “Information” he reminded them “could be retrieved from the public library where even many of these texts were held”.
That did the trick, a glance between them, communicating reams of unspoken agreement and the group started off, thanking everyone for their cooperation as they went, leaving like a rushing tide or a hoard of locust after the crops were destroyed.
Leaving Declan to replace the books, back on the shelves where they would remain undisturbed for another decade. Leaving the Lifers to their dreary stares at the blank painted brick walls of the church hall and the pitter patter sounds of the lone three year old child running around in circles between them.
