The afternoon was full of rainbows; it was complicated

The priest held the service like normal, just after dawn, a short time after the birds had ceased their morning racket, and a long time before the sun would get round to splitting the arms of the old oak with bars of sunlight to fall on the cobblestones. And what was strange about this particular service, the sixth Sunday of Lent, was that no one showed up. Sure the church had been in decline for a while, people were often watching television or eating brunch, or reading Agatha Christie novels, but it had never dipped below a respectable double digit number, though a certain Sunday had had only eleven souls, twelve counting the preacher, but the weather had been nasty that day, and a large portion of the congregation lived far enough away that it would have been near impossible to get to the church anyway.

But this particular Sunday not a soul arrived, though he waited in his vestments until ten after, hoping that just one of his flock would walk through the door and sit down. At eleven ten, when it became apparent to the preacher that the church would remain empty, he had to decide what to do about the service and about the blessed water and wine. And, like any respectable preacher would have, or so he believed, he put on his vestments and processed down the center of the church with the Gospel clasped tightly between his hands, conferring no blessings on the absent congregation, but staring firmly and intently at the cross in front of him, at the crown of thorns on his beloved Savior’s head. The first part of the service came off easily; he filled the parts of the readers admirably, read a passage from the Gospel of Mark about the Lord processing into the city over palm leaves on the back of an ass.

When it came time to deliver the sermon, he stood behind the podium, just beyond the altar and delivered, what he felt was one of his most rousing sermons. He did not shy away from the exhortations that he’d planned for the congregants. No. He redoubled them in the sight of the Lord. Rainbow colored light was lying in the floor having pitched its way through the stained glass near the ceiling. It was to this spot that he delivered a good portion of his sermon, knocking the thing about for its idleness, its basic selfishness and inherent sinfulness. Eventually the light moved on, but he felt that the message had been heard.