Storymania - The Curse Of The Moloch by Norman A Rubin

The Curse Of The Moloch (8)
Norman A Rubin

And the righteous ones knew that their deep faith would protect them from all the terrible afflictions.

They believed and called out in the 'magic of words'...

Chapter Sixteen

The good believers of the settlement revered the holy Sabbath day; it illuminated the light of day that shown through the trials of their miserable existence. On the holy Sunday they cleared their hearts from evil thoughts and wicked feelings, "Not fitten fer th' good soul on thet Sabbath day... " The folk scrubbed their bodies till the purity of skin was visible; and they dressed themselves in their best store boughten clothing which they thought proper-like in the presence of the Lordy.

They looked foward to the blessed Sabbath and on that day they trod the road of righteousness to celebrate the ritual of their holiness. From the time of distant memory they had made their away with hope and fire in their souls on the Lord's day to the Sunday-go-to-Meeting services at their rough-hewn clapboard chapel centered in the hollow. Upright they walked the sacred road, clutching proudly the sacred symbol of their faith - the 'Good Book' of the 'Lordy's' just words.

They had come to seek salvation and grace for their souls; and the sinners, hanging their heads in their shame, had come to ask for forgiveness to the good 'Lordy'. All trod the road to their little church on the Sabbath morning to seek answers that will direct them to the right path that will offer a better life on this earth. And all hoped at the end of the sacred services that the good 'Lordy' had heard their words and will offer redemption and salvation.

The good preacher, the able messenger of the blessed 'Lordy', offered his flock the virtuous words of the 'Good Book'. He rendered his interpretation of the message within which he hoped would direct the humble folk towards the blessed path for a good and just life. The parishoners were told that those words were the key to eternal salvation. Every Sunday the well-meaning cleric thundered out the phrases over and over again at the chapel service until the meaning of the words were clear in the minds of his humble parishoners.

The man of cloth was well reknowned in the community; he officiated at the christening of the new-born, chuckling with the shaking of his corpulent belly at the mewling child. He blessed the newly wedded couples, his veined hands held over their heads as he offered benediction - and a stern word was severly given to both, coupled with a lecture on the grave sin of carnality if the girl was full in the belly. He stood tall on his stubby legs as he committed a soul to the bosom of the 'Lordy'; his deep-set eyes shadowed in their deep sockets were moist from the solemn rites. And, secretly, he had the taste for dandelion wine with a drop of spirits, which he deemed beneficial for his soul.

The good preacher had a name but woe to a living soul if they would pronounce it within his hearing. Theophilius Zebulun Parker was his Christian name that was blessed him by his saintly parents. The name as difficult as it was to pronounce was as difficult to bear as it provided a cause for jibes and jest in the cleric's earlier years. Around the settlements in the hollow he was simply known throughout the years of his office as 'thet good preacher' and to those more intimate he was addressed as 'Rev'rend Parker'.

Rev'rend Parker was renowned throughout the parish in the hollow as an earnest fighter of the devil sin and all its wickedness and the continuing evil of its vile and dastardly acts. The saintly man saw sin everywhere. Sin, in his eyes were seen in the idling of time, in the passing of the jar of illicit spirits, the act of carnality by bedding with a painted woman; jealousy of another man's or woman's possessions; and forgetful in the blessed giving of charity. But, the worst sin of all in his eyes was in the wicked gossip of wagging tongues whose words tainted and hurt the innocent.

There were other foul sins committed; and these sins were seen through his vigilant eyes. The fighter of sin and its damnantion searched throughout the hollow to find the signs of transgression, and, when found, offered the prepetrator of the sinful act the salve of redemption followed by the needed blessing for forgiveness to the Lordy.

The cleric fought a hard and rough battle against the devil sin that was caused by the temptation of the devil's delights; and he had the pleasure in his hard won victories. But, at times he lost the battle with the devil sin, which saw the fall of grace of a good soul of his congregation, followed by its damning ruin of life and property.

The good preacher had a strong weapon in his arsenal and that was the eternal fear of the pagan god, the calf-headed fire god, the Moloch. No, he did not believe in paying obeisance to an alien god, which the prophets of the 'Good Book' warned against. He simply used the threat of the sacrificial fires in the damnation of hell as a symbol or retribution for sinning. And his good parishoners accepted and believed his just phrases of the fear of the hellish fire god of the world below; and they understood that the punishing requital for sinning was the sacrifice of the evildoer in the idol's fiery pit of the damned.

The preacher's kin folks, both his pappy and grandaddy, both preachers in their own right, committed this reasoning to his thought; and their imaginative words of the fiery vengence of the Moloch for sinful acts were branded in his mind. From them he inherited the vision of eternal damnation that pictured clearly a supposed hell; a vista of forked devils, hideous demons, hidden shadow spirits forever tormenting the sinners. His kin folk told him that in the bodes of the nether world, misers were forced to roll heavy stones; murderers driven into bloody slime; those that wagged their tongues given molten lead to quench their thirst. The endless list of sins and the punishing rewards for the sinners were gruesome in detail; and the endless torment of Satan and his emmissaries was equal in its misery.

The cleric remembered the phrases of his kinfolk, which he considered correct in their meaning. Ever since, when he first donned the robes of his office and when the opportunity arose, the good man included the fiery words of his inheritance in his thunderous sermons.

Chapter Seventeen

Jeremiah, his mother, Miz' Jezebel to the neighbors, and Lemmuel, his father, before his sudden departure from the good earth, were considered loyal and pious parishoners of the chapel. Every Sunday, ma in her best Sunday dress and a cloche bonnet, the young boy and his paw in their best and only go-to-meeting clothes, would make their way along the beaten path to the church. On their way they greeted neighbors on the same liturgical procession with a "Howdy do on this blessed day" or they would simply nod their heads in greetings. To a few they would stop for a bit of innocent chatter, namely a few words on the pleasant weather, if any, or on the well being of their respective families.

Jeremiah remembered how he, Miz' Jezebel and Lemuel together with the other congregants filed into the chapel with the clump of their high-laced boots; and, noisily, found their respective places on the roughly crafted benches. They all called out the blessing of the day to their friends and neighbors as they made their way to their seats; with lots of scraping and shuffling they set themselves down and awaited the beginning of the service. At the later years Jeremiah only shared the rites with his mother; the memory of his father's former presence at the services was revered.

Jeremiah thoughts of remembrance left him as the goodly preacher, cloaked in the black vestments of his office and carrying a large care'worn Bible, entered into the church from the small fronted ante room. The cleric traced his steps to the small lecturn on a narrow platform that faced his congregation; as he stepped heavily on the boards he turned his head and scanned his faithful flock. Seeing the filled benches, a slight smile of contentment emerged on his florid face. Then returning to a semblance of sobriety he placed the large tome noisily on the lecturn and faced his loyal parishoners; the smacking noise was a signal for the cessation of the clearing of hacking throats, the chatter of tongues and the shuffling of feet by the expectant congregation.

Silence reigned within the small chapel and seeing the waiting attention of his flock, the good cleric, with the clearing of his throat, started his address. "Before we start the blessed service I would like t' read out a few notices," the good prelate stated. He then read announcements of the time and place of two weddings, three chistenings and the time of the Bible study group for the good folk which he expected a good attendance.

He emphasized that all the good children of his flock should attend Sunday School, which followed the Sunday service; and that the lessons were under the tutelage of his good woman. He didn't mention that his wife taught the lessons in Biblical lore coupled with threat of hell-fire, and for the soul's passage into the depths of the underworld for sinning ways.

Then with a commanding voice he instructed his flock to rise and turn the pages of the hymnal book to a page of his choice. The good people rose, opened and searched through their hymnals; those that did not know of the written word were told of the praise song to to be sung. The good preacher set the pitch and the congregants, with loud and gruff voices, some off key, burst into a hymn of praise to the 'Lordy'; their eyes shone as they bellowed out the words.

Finishing their vocalizing they seated themselves noisily on their places. After a few moments of throat hacking and coughing the congregants looked towards the pulpit. A pause of silence followed which cleared the echoing sounds. Then the good cleric looked straight at his congregants and with a hearty thump on his worn Bible he began his sermon...

"Yea! King Manasseh made his son t' pass thro' th' fire. Yea, King Manasseh followed th' hellish abo... abo' minations of th' heathen," thundered the preacher as he banged his ham-like fist hard upon the lectern causing it to vibrate noisily on th' small platform. " Yea, King Manasseh did thet an' he tole th' chillun of Israel t' do th' same an' hit was real bad, mighty bad in th' eyes of th' Lordy," he called out hoarsely.

"Oh my, oh my, my, deary me," exlaimed a few mixed hushed voices of some of the women folk. The buzz of their quiet tones filled the chapel until the stern look of the good preacher signalled their end, and in the following silence he paused for a blessed moment.

The stocky black-clothed preacher stood erect as he looked onto the overflowing assembly in his small clapboard church, "Yea! he made his son pass thro' th' fire an' also th' chillun of th' Hebrews." He then searched through the leaves of the Good Book and intrepreted the correct paragraph, "King Manasseh was condemned by the Lord for unholy act for worshipping of the Canaanite devil god, the Moloch", "who the Lord cast out from before the children of Israel." "Yet those h'yar who commit ter'rible sins r' taking their wicked souls and those of their wee ones to th' Moloch; a bad thing in th' eyes of th' Lordy'. When th' sinners r' doin' these awful things they r' comin' an' worshippin' this devil god. Tis' th' truth." His fleshy face turned florid in the temper of his sermon; his breath came in spasms from the fury and wrath of his words..

"King Manasseh forced th' Lordy's chillun t' follow th' devlish blat' of horns and th' beat of them thar' drums in honour of thet' demon' fire god, the Moloch," thundered the agitated parson. The good cleric paused and after a search through a few pages of his well read Bible continued in his hell for leather sermon, "And the Children of Israel had to shout in Canaanite tongue allegiance to thet' calf headed idol. 'Yah. Yah Moloch, El El,' chanted the Hebrews and King Manasseh was pleased. But the good Lord watched over His children and punished the King for his wicked acts.... Yea, He did.."

"YEA! Yea... Praise the' Lordy... Halelujah t' th' mighty Lordy," exclaimed the garbled excited voices of the congregation.

The preacher's blazing eyes, deep-set in their sockets, were fierce as those of the prophets of the ancient past as he gazed sternly at his congregation. Then he grasped the winged collars of his black linen robe and shook his shaggy maned hair in admonishment, "Yea he blasphemed th' Lordy!!" He thundered louder, "Yea King Manasseh blasphemed th' Lordy. Did he not hear th' words of th' Lordy when he tole them no t' cause their sons an' daughters t'pass thru' th' fire. Yea, he blasphemed!!" He turned the thumb-marked pages of the holy tome and quoted the written words, "And he made his son pass through the fire." The cleric paused for a few moments to catch his wavering breath. "I'll go ahead with this h'yar readin," he reiterated, "he wrought much wickedness in the sight of the Lord, to prokoke Him to anger.... Yea, th' king, he done did it agin' th' Lordy!"

"Yea, yea, King Manasseh blasphemed th' Lordy," echoed jumbled responses from a few of the congregants...

"And mah friends we r' doin' the same and followin' th' ways of King Manasseh... We r' shoutin' praise t' thet hell-god in our sinnin' ways," the preacher thundered through his hoarse voice as he drove foward his interpretation.

Did not thet vile critter King Manasseh spill th' blood of th' innercent?" The good preacher continued to read from the text of the Bible adding his interpretations. "And this Manasseh shed so much innocent blood that he filled Jerusalem full to the brim, not to mention the sin which he let Judah..." emphasized the feverish parson. Then, after his fiery words, he wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with a red polkdot kerchief that miraculously appeared in gnarled and veined hands.

"Yea! Yea! thet wicked king done did thet'," responded the echoing reply of the expectant parishoners.

"An' did not th' just Lordy in His mighty ways punish King Manasseh fer his wicked acts, Yea He did!!"

YEA, YEA, th' Lordy did thet... HALLELULAH T' TH' LORDY!!",

And again the preacher searched the text of his care worn Bible and again quoted and intrepeted the phrases, "Yea, man, th' good Lordy did punish thet wicked King Manasseh - 'And the servants of Amnon con.. cons..pired against him, and slew the king in his own house..' Yea, th' people went agin' th' king fer his wicked acts an' put him down - 'and he was buried in the garden tomb of his family..'"

"YEA MAN!.... HALLELUJAH T' TH' GOOD LORDY!"

"Mah good people, mah friends an' neighbors, listen t' this h'yar story of thet wicked King Manasseh an' fer y' t' learn a bit from it. He called upon his parishoners to mend their ways and not to follow in the ways of King Manasseh and through his wicked acts. The good preacher repeatedly compared it with the sinning and wickedness that is corrupting the good folk in the settlements in the hollow. "Yea thars' a mighty lot of sinning in these h'yar parts - drinkin' th' devil spirits, waggin' th' loose tongue, sleepin' wit' fallen women, an' many many more," the good cleric emphasized as he thumped heavily on his tome.

Then he loudly called for the members of his flock to come foward and seek redemption and salvation in the name of the just and fair Lordy. The preacher told them this is the way to cast off their sins and find the righteous way. He pleaded again and again for the congregants to come foward and seek repentance and the blessing in the name of His Son.

A few of the congregants heard the earnest plea of the blessed preacher and came foward to him to seek salvation. As the redeemers stood in front of the lecturn the cleric laid his strong hand lighty on their heads; he blessed them in the name of His son. Some of recipients of the blessing swooned as they accepted the bread of faith; outstreched hands were ready as they fell in their religious trance.

The remaining parishoners jumped to shuffling feet and the clapping of hands to the rhythm of their ecstatic shouting as they rejoiced in the sight of the believers going forth in this blessed act of salvation. They responded with loud shouting in mixed voices in praise of the Lordy, "HALLELULAH, PRAISE BE... GLORY T' TH' MIGHTY LORDY.. "

Pandemonium reigned throughout the confines of the chapel as the congregation shouted hosannas through hoarse voices; some were swooning in the holiness of the hour; others were on their knees grovelling on the floor, calling out praises. Sinners, with their hands raised, called out passionately to the good Lordy to absolve them from their wickedness; and they cried out fervently for the plea of redemption.

"HALLELUJAH, HALLELUJAH! Lordy, Lordy.." they hooted and called out as they glorified in the holiness.

"Praise be, blessed tis' His name, hallelujah," they clapped and stomped to their excited words.

Jeremiah Micaiah, too, was caught in the excited fevor of the passionate congregation; he thought of the time when Lemmuel, his lately departed father, trod the righteous path. He was proud when his 'old man' accepted the offered redemption and salvation. As he looked to his side he only saw Miz' Jezebel, his pious mother alone in religious devotion, upholding the traditional spirit of the family's faith. She was spread on the floor as she groveled on bended knees; her spittle smeared mouth shouted praises in the name of the just Lordy.

The innocent boy joined in the calling out of praises and his piping voice was barely heard; the increasing fevered pitch of the holiness of the hour ran madly through the simpleness of his mind.

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