deVan and Picture #12: deVan’s Tenth Visit

                    

Visit #10: Lovelife

 

            “That door is heavy.” Aubrielle, deVan’s possible new friend, had just strode up beside him to the first picture on the wall of the Church, the picture that was titled, “Jesus is condemned to die.”

            “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” deVan said. “I’ve been standing here for an hour.”

            “I am three minutes late.”

            “It seemed like an hour.”

            Aubrielle looked up. “So, this is one of the Stations you talked about.”

            “Yes, the first Station of the Cross.” deVan had recently informed Aubrielle of his frequent visits to the Catholic church. Of course, she wanted to join him and see things for herself, so he told her about the back door that was always ajar.

            Aubrielle looked up at the picture. Jesus stood, hands tied, crown of thorns piercing his head, while several men stood around him. “That is how I pictured it.” Aubrielle, a five-star Christian, though not a Catholic, knew a lot about the Bible. “What now?”

            “We go to the next Station, like a train. There are 14 of them all around the church.”

            And Aubrielle and deVan walked the story. They saw Jesus take his cross. They saw him fall three times, (Jesus admitted he fell more often, though.) They saw the women weeping as he walked by. (“The men mostly ran and hid,” Aubrielle commented.) She became very quiet as she watched Jesus get his clothes stripped off, get nailed to the cross, get taken down and buried.

            “Follow me,” deVan said, and they walked from the 14^th Station to the 12^th. Jesus was looking down from the cross. “Hello, Jesus, this is Aubrielle. She wanted to meet you.”

            “Hello,” Aubrielle said as timidly as deVan had ever heard her. Her eyes widened then, and after a pause, she said, “Yes, I’m Aubrielle Vinly.”

            deVan heard only Aubrielle’s voice but knew Jesus was conversing with her. He also became aware that his time with the man on the cross had come to an end. It was fine. Aubrielle knew a lot more about the Bible than deVan did; she might have more to talk about than deVan had.

            deVan strode slowly and silently past the altar and through the sanctuary door. He pushed hard on the heavy outside door and squinted in the bright sunlight. “Hey deVan.”

            deVan was a bit dazed as the bulky frame of Henry Slacken came into focus. Henry Slacken, the bully, deVan’s nemesis, the kid Aubrielle whacked in the face. “Henry,” he said.

            Henry furrowed his brow. “I didn’t know you were an altar server.”

            deVan knew Henry was Catholic and that this was probably his parish church, but he had no idea what an altar server was. “I served too,” Henry continued. “But I quit two years ago. What’s the matter?”

            “What do you mean?” deVan said. 

            “Why are you crying?”

            deVan had no idea tears were running down his cheeks. He put the fingertips of both hands on his face and confirmed it. How could he not know he was crying?

            “A funeral, right?” Henry said.

            “What?”

            “There was a funeral in there, right?”

            deVan knew the answer to this. “Yes,” he said accurately. “A funeral.”

            Henry nodded wisely. “Serving a funeral mass can be sad. I get it.”

            On the contrary, deVan thought. Neither of us is getting anything, although Henry seemed to have gotten everything figured out to his satisfaction. He surprised deVan by taking a seat on a small concrete pylon, getting all comfortable.

            The silence that followed was less comfortable. deVan felt he couldn’t just leave, and Henry was sitting there looking down at his shoes, hands on his knees. “So,” deVan said. “You quit being an altar thingy.”

            “I quit being a server two years ago. After a funeral.”

            deVan took a stab. “Someone you knew?”

            “Yes.”

            Another silence. Henry looked like he was going to talk, and then he just exhaled.

            deVan didn’t really know Henry Slacken. Henry moved into the neighborhood a couple of years ago, and it didn’t take him long to discover that deVan was transgender. Soon enough, deVan was the recipient of a full scale barrage of bullying from the former altar server and future WWE wrestler, perhaps. This ongoing encounter was less rancorous but no less disturbing.

            Henry looked up. He mumbled something. “Sorry,” deVan said. “I didn’t hear you.”

            “It was my sister’s funeral.” Henry almost yelled it. “My older sister.”

            “Henry!” That was all deVan could think of to say.

            Henry immediately took the tone he assumed when he bullied deVan. “I didn’t want to. I told my father I didn’t want to serve her funeral mass. He forced me to.”

            “Why?”

            Henry sniffed loudly. “He told me to be a man, to get up there and serve my sister’s mass. I yelled at him, said, okay, I’ll serve her mass, but I’ll never be a server again.”

            “And you never were.”

            Henry scoffed. “Never. He didn’t care, but that didn’t matter.”

            deVan’s voice softened. “How did she die, Henry?”

            “We were swimming. In the ocean. We swam way out; we’re both good swimmers, but Effie was really good, champion butterflier. No chance of anything going wrong.”

            “What happened?”

            “We were swimming along. Effie fell behind. I heard a kind of gurgle from her. When I turned around, I saw her shaking and gasping. It was awful.”

            “Shaking?”

            “Yes,” Henry said. “We found out later she had a seizure. She was farther away than I thought. With the waves and all, I had a hard time even getting to her. She looked like a buoy bobbing up and down. She couldn’t move her hands. When I got to her, she was unconscious and went limp in my arms.”

            deVan stayed silent as Henry gathered himself to continue.

            “It took a long, long time to get her to shore. No one even heard me yelling till I was pretty close. Then a bunch of people swam out. I was screaming help her help her but I knew.”

            deVan was shaken. “Were your parents there?”

            “No. They were back at the rental. I went in the ambulance to the hospital and they met us there. The doctor was sitting beside me when they ran in. She walked up to them and told them. Mom started screaming and fell on her knees. My father did what he always did and got mad, told the doctor to take him to Effie. He just left Mom there on the floor. I went to her, got her to a chair.”

            deVan had been standing in front of Henry the whole time. “That’s the awfulest thing I ever heard. But you never left her, right?”

            “I would have drowned myself rather than leave her out there.”

            “That’s brave.”

            “Not if you asked my father. Even after he found out about the seizure — the doctors said it was amazing I could get her in like I did — he blamed me, said I could have done more because I’m a man.”

            “You couldn’t have done more, though. You couldn’t, Henry.”

            “I know.”

            “You were brave.”

            “I wasn’t brave, deVan. She was my sister.”

            “I know what you mean, Henry. You loved her. That’s all it took really.”

            Henry nodded. He hadn’t cried this whole time. He would, but later.

            “You’re the first person I told about Effie since I moved here.”

            deVan smiled. “You can trust me to keep a secret because you’d squish my head if I didn’t.”

            Henry couldn’t help smiling a bit himself. “Yes, that’s true. But I know I can trust you anyways.”

“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re different, deVan.”

“Yes, Henry. You remind me of that every day.”

            “No, it’s not that.” Henry took a breath. “Yeah, well, it kind of is that. Most guys hate it if they don’t fit in. That’s where you’re different. You fit in where you fit in, and when you don’t fit in, you just don’t and you’re okay with that. Even if people make fun of you.”

            deVan shrugged. “It’s too much trouble trying to be what I’m not.”

            Henry looked him in the eye. “It’s a lot of trouble being who you are, isn’t it?”

            “Yes. But it’s who I am. That makes it worth the trouble.”

            “deVan,” Henry said. “You’re the one who’s brave. My father should meet you.”

            “What?” deVan said. “Why?”

            Henry smirked. “He’d see what a real man is.” 

deVan and Picture #12: deVan‘s Ninth Visit

Visit #9: Guests

 

Another bright and sunny morning found deVan hauling open the unlocked back door to the Catholic church he regularly visited. Another door took him to the churchy part of the church where along the walls were the 14 Stations of the Cross, a kind of picture book of his good friend’s final journey, to a terrible death and quiet burial.

            After circumnavigating the 14 Stations, deVan took his usual U-turn and approached the 12^th, the one with his friend looking down from a cross he was nailed to. “Hello, Jesus.” “Hello, deVan.” Jesus’s voice was clear and distinct, although in the picture nothing moved. “What’s new?”

            “Everything,” deVan said.

            Jesus chuckled a bit. “I hear a story coming.”

            “Oh, yes,” deVan agreed. “I’m not even sure where to begin.”

            “I’m in no hurry.”

            “Okay, listen to this. I went to our meeting at the Rainbow Cellar.” The Rainbow Cellar was just that, the cellar of the nearby Episcopal church, the place that had been redecorated to accommodate the weekly meetings of any LGBTQ kids who wanted to attend. The Assistant Pastor, Reverend Marjorie, ran things there.

            “You are going every week now.”

            “Yeah. I like meeting up with other queer kids. We get each other, you know? Or maybe you don’t know.”

            “Why wouldn’t I?”

            “You were one of a kind, right? I mean, there you were, part of Tri-OON, and then you transition to a boy.” Jesus had informed deVan that, a bit like deVan who was transgender, Jesus too transitioned from being one of the three persons in the Triune God to being a human boy. “No one else ever pulled that off. So, no one could start a Triune Rainbow Cellar where kids like you could get together.”

            Jesus sighed. “It definitely had its advantages and disadvantages. Anyway, you were saying you like meeting with other queer kids.”

            “Sure. I mean, they can be as annoying as anyone…”

            “Yourself included.”

            “Uh-uh,” deVan said, “I don’t annoy you. You can’t wait till I show up. When I go around the Stations, I can tell you’re over here saying to yourself, ‘I wish he’d hurry up; I’m so excited to see deVan. Oh, please, hurry up, deVan!’”

            “Whew!” Jesus said. “Talk about annoying!”

            “Yeah, that even annoyed me a little. Maybe I should get back to the story.”

            “Maybe.”

            “Right. So the meeting starts like normal. All us regulars are in a circle and ready to go. Reverend Marjorie starts off. She has a question we all have to answer as we go around the room for the first time. She says, ‘As we go around, each of you answer this question: why did you decide to come here today?’”

            “Good question,” Jesus said. “Makes you think about what pushed you to go on this particular day.”

            “Except, guess who answered first.”

            “You?”

            “Bad guess. The voice came from the bottom of the stairs, the stairs to the Cellar. She had just that second arrived. She said, ‘I came to listen.’”

            “Was it…”

            “Aubrielle. It was Aubrielle!” Aubrielle was deVan’s extra smart, extra Christian non-friend who once socked a bully in the mouth for bothering deVan.

            Jesus was clearly surprised. “She just decided to go to the Rainbow Cellar?”

            “Yep. She said she came to listen and then she sat beside me.”

            “Good thing there was an empty chair beside you.”

            “Are you kidding? She went to the wall and grabbed a chair, unfolded it, and brought it to the circle and just squeezed in. Then she said, ‘I’m Aubrielle.’”

            “What happened then?”

            “Then Reverend Marjorie said, ‘Welcome, Aubrielle. I hope you have some good things to listen to.’ Reverend Marjorie always says the right thing. You could learn a lot from her.”

            “Annoying,” Jesus said. “Don’t forget, deVan, the things I said made it to the Bible.”

            “Oh, a little sensitive there, Jesus old buddy. Don’t worry, Reverend Marjorie always says you are tops. She just phrases things a bit better than you.”

            “So, shall we go on?” Jesus asked. “What did Aubrielle do then?”

            “Nothing,” deVan said. “The stairs to the Rainbow Cellar started squeaking again.”

            “Someone else was coming?”

            “Oh, yeah. It was — ready for this? — Ma’am!”

            “Ma’am? Oh, right.” Ma’am was what deVan called the sacristan, the thin, six foot tall woman who stalked deVan in the Catholic Church and then revealed that she was the sacristan of the Episcopal church. She told deVan she was upset about the Rainbow Cellar because she thought it was bringing sin into the church. Then she found out deVan was trans.

            “I said, ‘Hello, ma’am.’ She didn’t even look at me. Reverend Marjorie told her to take a seat. Jeremiah Font, remember him? He jumped up and grabbed a chair and set it beside him. Ma’am sat right on the edge of the chair, so she could be as uncomfortable as possible.”

            “What did ma’am have to say?”

            “She was nervous. She started by saying she prayed and prayed for guidance. Then, off she went.”

            “Off where?”

            “She starts by saying she came to offer us salvation.”

            “Salvation?” Jesus said. “She has salvation?”

            “No. You do. She said we must turn to you and be saved.”

            “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

            “Oh, yeah, a big big ‘but.’ She says to turn to you we must turn away from sin.”

            “Sin.”

            “Yes. Then her voice got real high pitched. She said ‘homosexual’ a lot. I think it was her shorthand for LGBTQ. I could have told her queer was fine. I think you might say she was a tad judgy.”

            “Possibly, yes.”

            deVan took a deep breath. “Then came the scary part. Ma’am looked right at me, even pointed at me, and told me off. She said I tricked her, that I won her trust and then betrayed her. She said I was — check this out — steeped in sin, you know, like a tea bag.”

            “What did you say to that?”

            “Ha!” deVan said. “I didn’t get a chance to say anything.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because Aubrielle decided right then to stop listening and start talking.”

            “What did she say?”

            “She was irate. That’s what she said after, that she was irate. She told ma’am that I’ve never betrayed anyone in my whole life. She said I’m not a liar, I’m a truth teller. And she said if I’m steeped in sin, it’s only because we’re all steeped in sin.”

            “She said that?”

            “Yep. We’re all a bunch of hot wet tea bags!”

            “Yes, Jesus responded. I once said that I have come not to call the righteous but sinners to think anew.” 

            “OK, well, Reverend Marjorie could help you with the wording there, but I get your point.”

            Jesus likely shook his head at this. “Anyway, what you’re saying is, things got a little tense.”

            “Yes. Aubrielle and ma’am went back and forth. Ma’am said we were on the path to hell, especially me. Aubrielle said the only path I was on was the path to kindness, that I never said a bad word about anyone. Kind of made me feel bad about saying Henry’s zits were ugly.” Henry was the bully Aubrielle punched.

            “That was just descriptive.”

            “Good point. So, eventually ma’am gets all frustrated. She stands up and yells, ‘You have been warned! You’ve all been warned!’ Then she stomps up the stairs.”

            “Goodness. What happened then?”

            “It was totally silent for a while. Then Reverend Marjorie said, ‘That was an interesting exit interview.’ Then she thanked Aubrielle for speaking up. Aubrielle just nodded. She was crying pretty hard.”

            “Then what?”

            “Then we continued around the room telling each other why we came here. Alana, the one who told me I needed a haircut, remember?”

            “I do.”

            “Alana said she came to learn how to be brave. Then she turned to Aubrielle and said that now she knew how, that Aubrielle taught her. Alana said she hoped Aubrielle would come back to our Rainbow Cellar meeting again next week. Aubrielle just nodded.”

            “Do you think Aubrielle was brave, deVan?”

            “Yes, but that’s something I’ve always known about her. Some people are just naturally brave, and she’s one. Also, she lives in love even when she doesn’t realize it.”

            “I know what you mean.”

            “After the meeting she came up to me. Her voice was shaky from all the yelling and crying. I asked her why she did what she did. That’s when she said she was irate. She said nobody gets to talk about me that way. I felt bad, actually.”

            “Bad?” Jesus asked. “Why did you feel bad?”

            “Aubrielle is always standing up for me. I wish I could do something for her.”

            “DeVan,” Jesus said in a quiet voice.

            “Yes, Jesus?”
            “Believe me when I tell you, you have given Aubrielle more than you will ever know.”

deVan and Picture #12: deVan’s Eighth Visit

Visit #8: Jewish

 It was a bright and sunny morning when deVan stole into the Catholic Church through the unlocked back door. He had a few questions sizzling on his brain, but, still, he visited each of the 14 Stations of the Cross, the picture story of his friend’s walk to death. After seeing his friend buried in Station #14, deVan backtracked to #12.

            “Hello, Jesus.” Jesus looked down from the cross, and deVan heard his words clearly, although absolutely nothing moved. “Good day, deVan.”

            “I’m confused,” deVan confessed.

            “I’m not at all surprised.”

            “Is that a dig?”

            “Yes. It’s off-brand, isn’t it?”

            “It sure is. Aubrielle never once said you made fun of confused people.” Aubrielle was deVan’s consultant when he sought answers about the Bible; she knew a lot about the Bible.

            “I’m not proud to admit it,” Jesus said. “But I did. I once called one of my friends a devil because he didn’t understand my mission.”

            “What did you say exactly?”

            “I said, ‘get out of my sight, Satan.’”

            “Dang, that’s harsh. What did he do to deserve that?”

            “Short version, he said he didn’t want me to die.”

            deVan raised both hands. “Oh, your friend didn’t want you to die, and that made him a devil?”

            “I had to die. I didn’t need anyone talking me out of it.”

            deVan squinted at this. “Are you sure he was the one who was confused?”

            “The whole thing was hard, deVan.”

            “Go easy on yourself, Jesus. You’re only human.”

            “Um…”

            “Oh, I forgot. You transitioned. You were Tri-OON.” Jesus once told deVan that Jesus was part of the Triune God and then became a boy, somewhat like deVan, who was transgender.

            “Right,” Jesus said.

            “You know, Jesus, that sort of thing can also be pretty confusing.”

            “So, here we are back where you started.”

            deVan nodded. “Yes, confusion. You were Jewish, is that right?”
            “Yes.”

            “My best friend — I think I mentioned him to you — Stewart, he’s Jewish. I went to his Bar Mitzvah, remember?”

            “You said it was long and boring.”

            “Not exactly. Besides, the party after made up for it. That was fantastic.” deVan looked up at the man on the cross. “Did you have a Bar Mitzvah when you were twelve?”

            “Yes, of course. My parents were observant. They went by caravan to Jerusalem every Passover. When I was twelve, I had my Bar Mitzvah in Jerusalem.” Jesus probably smiled at the memory. “When we got ready to return home, I left the caravan and stayed behind in Jerusalem. My mom and dad went on for a day not realizing I wasn’t there.”

            “They didn’t know you were missing?”

            “Lots of our relatives and friends were part of the caravan. They thought I was with one of my uncles. When they realized I was missing, they went back to Jerusalem.”

            “By themselves? Wasn’t that dangerous?”

            “I guess. Travelling by caravan was definitely safer.”

            “What happened then?”

            “They found me in the Temple. I was talking with the synagogue officials.”

            “You were bad, Jesus. What did your dad say?”

            “He made a face I’d never seen before. Mom said, ‘how could you do this to us?’”

            “Sounds right. So here’s where you say sorry and beg forgiveness.”

            “Not exactly. I thought they knew I wanted to be a rabbi. I said they should have realized I wanted to stay in the big Temple and chat with the officials.”

            “Are you joking? I’d be grounded for life if I said that.”

            “So,” Jesus said. “What has been confusing to you?”

            deVan was jolted back to the topic he came to discuss. “Yes, right. The confusion is, if you were Jewish and had a Bar Mitzvah and became a rabbi, how come Stewart is a different religion from Christians?”

            “Oh, you decided to ask an easy question this week.”

            deVan took a breath. “I assume you are being sarcastic.”

            Jesus sighed. “Yes, a little. There’s a lot of history behind your question.”

            “I’m sure, but I’m not asking about history. It’s the same question I always seem to be asking you.”

            “Which is?”

            “Who’s right and who’s wrong?”

            Jesus looked down at deVan with a warmth that deVan felt like a quiet embrace. “There is only one answer to that, deVan.”

            “Live in love?”

            “Live in love, that’s the whole story, every law ever written, every word spoken by every prophet.”

            “And love is bigger than all of it.”

            “Yes, deVan, much bigger.”

            “So,” deVan said. “Maybe we humans come up with different ways of living in love, and they’re all one hundred percent right.”

            “Is that possible?”

            “I think so. I remember how I felt at Stewart’s Bar Mitzvah, with his parents and relatives and friends all smiling and rooting for him, me included. They were saying, ‘here’s how we live in love.’ I felt it when Aubrielle stood up for me with that bully, Henry. I feel it in the Rainbow Cellar when us queer people tell each other we’re all just fine.”

            “That’s living in love.”

            deVan shook his head. “Dang, Jesus, it just hit me. Love is work.”

            “Yes. Sometimes it’s private work, like when Aubrielle confronted that bully.”

            “And sometimes it’s public work like a Bar Mitzvah ceremony or whatever Catholics do around here.”

            “They celebrate Mass.”

            “Yeah, that.” deVan paused to consider all this. “Maybe love is so big we humans have to come at it from different directions.”

            “Maybe,” Jesus said.

            “Did you ever stop being Jewish, Jesus?”

            “No, I didn’t, and I didn’t have to.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Do you know what happened when your friend Stewart had his Bar Mitzvah?

            “They told me he became a man. I thought twelve was a little young for that, but I wasn’t going to argue.”

            “Actually, it means being a son of duty.”

            “Uh-oh, here comes another complication. A mitzvah is what, a duty?”

            “A mitzvah is something I do because it is my responsibility to do it.”

            “Responsibility to who?”

            “To God.”

            “To love.”

            “Yes.”

            “Wait,” deVan said. “So when you called your friend a devil, you were telling him that he was trying to keep you from doing your duty.”

            “My mitzvah.”

            “Mitzvah means duty, got it.”

            “It means more than that. A mitzvah connects me with love, puts me in touch with God. Listen, deVan, why do you go around the Stations of the Cross whenever you visit me here?”

            “When I first came, I saw the first picture over there and just went there. Then I noticed the other pictures along the walls and they told a story. Your story. Now, when I come, I can’t just walk up to the twelfth Station; I need to do the story first.”

            “Because it connects you.”

            “Yes, that’s right. I walk with you when you get convicted and when you get your cross to carry and when you trip and fall and then when you get stripped and nailed and die. Then I am ready to walk up to the twelfth Station and say hello.”

            “The need to connect is strong. That’s what a mitzvah really is. Connecting. Walking the Stations is connecting. Attending synagogue on Friday or Mass on Sunday, those things are connecting.”

            deVan liked this concept. “Joining other queer kids at the Rainbow Cellar, is that a mitzvah?”

            “Is it?”
            “Yes, Jesus, I think so, especially for Reverend Marjorie who runs it. She definitely connects with love.”

            “I agree. Any action that connects with love is a mitzvah.”

            “Like when Aubrielle’s fist connected with Henry’s mouth.” Henry was the bully Aubrielle stood up to. That ended pretty much the way deVan just indicated.

            Jesus mused. “I’m not sure that was a love connection.”

            “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t. At least not with Henry.”

            “So,” Jesus said. “Are you less confused?”

            “Much less.”

            “Good for you, deVan.”

            “But not so good for the rest of the world. They seem as confused as ever.”

            “There’s a way you can help.”

            deVan did not hesitate. “Don’t judge. Live in love.” He was pretty sure Jesus nodded. Or at least flashed a quick smile.

deVan and Picture #12: deVan’s Seventh Visit

                         

Visit #7: The Rainbow Cellar

 

deVan had a serious look on his face. He entered the back door of the church, the door left ajar even though the front door was locked tight, and entered the area where the 14 Stations of the Cross were hung, the pictures circling the walls around the pews. These pictures told the story of the execution of Jesus by Roman authorities.

            After stopping at each Station, deVan strode back to Picture #12, the one with his friend looking down from his cross. “Hello, Jesus.”

            “deVan, good morning. Have you had a good week?”

            “I’ve had an interesting week. First of all, I met some Christians who think queer is just fine. They are Episcopalians. Do you know what they are?”

            “Yes.”

            “They have bishops and priests and guess what? They have the Stations of the Cross in their church.”

            “How did you meet them?”

            “This is the interesting part. They opened up something they called “The Rainbow Cellar.”

            As always, Jesus was fascinated by deVan’s discoveries. “What is it?”

            “Obviously, it’s a cellar.”

            “I see.”

            “It’s the basement of the church. A real cellar, with concrete walls and floor. They dressed it up with chairs and tables and a few rugs. I think they added some lights to make it brighter. You walk down old wooden steps to get to it.”

            “What goes on there?”

            “It’s for me and other queer people.”

            “How did you find out about it?”

            “A kid at my school told me about it. Jeremiah Font. He’s gay and Episcopalian. He gave me a flyer telling me all about this Rainbow Cellar.”

            “What happens there?”

            “Reverend Marjorie is in charge of it. She’s the assistant to the pastor. She said we’ll figure out what will happen as we go along. She said The Rainbow Cellar is a place of welcome and inclusion, which I’m not sure what all that means.”

            “This sounds like a good thing, deVan.” 

            deVan nodded. “It is. Our first meeting we all sat in a circle and said our names and what we thought made us part of the LGBTQ+ community. There were 16 of us, all teenagers. That first time around the circle was emotional, you know?”

            Jesus didn’t know. “What made it emotional? You were just telling everyone your names.”

            deVan shook his head. “You should have been there. Three of the kids said their names out loud for the first time ever. A couple of others only use their names with their closest friends; their parents don’t even know they picked their names. One girl started crying and couldn’t stop. I ran over and stooped down in front of her and held her hand.”

            “What happened then?”

            “She looked up at me with tears all over her face. She said, ‘You need a haircut.’”

            “What?”

            “It was great. Everybody laughed. It didn’t bother me.”

            “No?”

            “Well, I got a haircut the next day.”

            “You did need one. What happened next?”

            “Reverend Marjorie said we had enough tears. She had us go around again and say the best thing that happened in the past month.”

            “How did that go?”

            “Good. I don’t remember all the best things everybody said. One person said he got his first banana split ever, and it was delicious. A girl got new running shoes and the members of her track team said they were the coolest.”

            “What did you say?”

            “I told them about my talk with a homophobic woman.”

            Jesus was getting accustomed to deVan’s sudden digressions into topics more interesting than the one being discussed. “Who was this woman?”

            “She was the sacristan for Reverend Marjorie’s church. That means she takes care of the church. Before our Rainbow meeting I went into the church. That’s when I found out they have the Stations of the Cross. I was checking them out when I heard her in one of the back pews.”

            “So you know they are called pews.”

            deVan sighed. “What I know is everything in these churches has a different name, so I just Google them. I don’t want to walk up to you and call a pew a bench.”

            “It wouldn’t bother me.”

            “And I wouldn’t want to call a sacristan a cleaning lady.”

            “That would be fine with me.”

            “Sure it would, except for the little smirk whenever I make a mistake or say the wrong word for something.”

            “I don’t smirk. You won’t read anywhere in the Bible, ‘And Jesus smirked.’”

            “Like you said before, the people who wrote about you thought you were all high and mighty.”

            “I was.”

            “My point is, they all knew you smirked. They just didn’t think it was a great idea to write about it.

            “Tell me about the sacristan.”

            “She loves her job and she’s good at it. She said being over six feet tall — she’s very tall — means she can do her work way faster than most women. She can reach anywhere. Then she found out about the Rainbow Cellar.”

            “She did?”

            “Yeah. She was invited to a meeting of the top church people in this church where they discussed the idea.”

            “She didn’t like the idea.”

            “She said she came around when they started having women priests, even though that took some getting used to.  And all kinds of new stuff she also had to get used to.”

            “What stuff?”

            “She didn’t say. But, this, this homosexual thing, I think that’s how she put it, was too much. ‘Too much what?’ I asked her. She said we were letting sin into the church.”

            “What did you think about that?”

            “I felt bad for her. She is homophobic. Can you imagine what it’s like for her to clean up the rainbow cellar after a bunch of sinners were just there laughing with the Associate Pastor?”

            “What did you tell her?”

            “That I felt bad for her. She didn’t know I was one of the sinners. She said she knew I’d understand because I had great faith.”

            “What did she mean by that?”

            “Oh, I kind of knew what she meant. I said to her, ‘Just because you saw me going around the Stations of the Cross a couple of times, that doesn’t mean I’m some kind of saint.”

            “What?” Jesus said.

            “She was shocked. She said, ‘you knew I was there?’ I said yes. She said she was back in the shadows, that I couldn’t have seen her. I said that’s true for most people, but not me. I said she has a very unusual shadow, long and thin, and that dress that goes almost to the floor.”

            Jesus was more than intrigued. “So this sacristan, a six foot tall very thin woman, was the ghostly figure you saw over by the third Station.”

            “Yep. She came to pray and slipped into the shadows when she heard me come in. She came back the next week too.”

            “Pray? She has her own church.”

            “Jesus, people can pray anywhere. I could go to my bedroom and shut the door and pray in total quiet. In fact, I think more people should do it that way.”

            “Me too. But back to the story.”

            “Right. She came to this church because, first, she knew about the open back door, and, second, she said she wasn’t comfortable praying in her own church because of the homosexual thingy. When she saw me at the Stations, she thought I was an angel or something. Then I ran into her at her church and she said God sent me. I wanted to say, whoa, lady, God didn’t send me; a flyer sent me. But guess what, Jesus?”

            “What, deVan?”

            “ I did what you said. I decided to just listen to her. I said, ‘what made you think that?’”

            “Excellent, deVan. What did she say?”

            “She said she felt in her heart I would give her guidance. I’m thinking, whoa, lady, I’m a kid. I don’t guide; I stumble, you know? But I kept listening. She said seeing me at the Stations of the Cross was a sign, since she’s carrying her own cross. I never felt so – so symbolical.”

            “What did you say then?”

            “I said, ‘live in love, ma’am.’ I called her ma’am because I didn’t know what else to call her. She said, ‘how do I do that? These people are sinning.’ I said, ‘Yeah, it’s hard sometimes when people think differently from you. I have a friend, Abrielle,’ I said, ‘who doesn’t think I’m an angel at all. She passes me in the hall and ignores me.’”

            Jesus said, “What did…uh, ma’am say to that?”

            “She got upset, really upset. She said, ‘How could someone do that to you? It’s cruel.’ I said, ‘Well, you know, she also punched out a bully who was harassing me.’ That surprised her. ‘Then this girl doesn’t hate you.’ I said, ‘No, ma’am, we have different feelings about each other.’”

            Jesus smiled, one supposes. “How did ma’am handle that?”

            “She basically asked me how I handle it with all kinds of feelings flying around.”

            “And you said?”

            “Ready for this? I said, ‘Tomorrow is all new. We keep working at it. If we haven’t figured it out, there always another tomorrow.’ Pretty good, right?”

            deVan was sure Jesus nodded. “I couldn’t have said it better, deVan. How did ma’am react to that?”

            “Ha,” deVan said. “This is where it gets interesting. All of a sudden, I think she realizes I’m not really an angel. She squints her eyes and says, ‘What brought you here? I know you’re not part of this Church.’”

            “You mean she suddenly realized that?”

            “Exactly.”

            “What did you do? How did you respond?”

            deVan took a deep breath. “Okay, I turned toward her and put my hand on top of hers. She looked down at my hand and then up into my face. I looked at her and said, ‘I came to the Rainbow Cellar, ma’am. I am transgender.”

            Jesus paused for a few seconds. “What happened then?”

            deVan took another breath. “She cried, Jesus. She just cried.”