A HANDS-ON APPROACH

A HANDS-0N APPROACH

The waiter placed the tray of cakes on the table and went back to fetch the tea. Patti’s was one of the very popular tea shops in Colombo. It was where the three girls enjoyed meeting regularly.

‘Utterly unbelievable! the traffic on the Galle Road is an absolute nightmare. It’s taken me twice as long to get here today,’ moaned Rita as she wiped the sweat off her brow with the flourish of a silk hanky. ‘And all because of some sort of religious convention taking place in front of The Wellawatte market.’

She showed her annoyance by engaging in battle with the chair before plonking herself down on it with a sigh. Rita did have some airs and graces about her and one of them was to make much of little, but she was very much a no-nonsense person.

‘We’ve got a flyer about it,’ chirped Manel as she rummaged through the contents of her handbag and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper. ‘Tina and I thought it might be interesting to attend, it’s on for the entire week. Look,’ she said as she straightened it out for Rita to read, ‘it’s some sort of new-fangled Evangelical ministry from The States and it’s some local chap who’s preaching…, claims that he can heal on the spot. Of course, it’s drawing crowds of people from all over Colombo and the rest of the country as well. Seems to be quite a sensation.’

Manel was in her mid-twenties, always quietly spoken. She was slender in build and generally preferred to remain in the shadow of her older sister, Tina. The three girls had known each other since school years.

Conversation while waiting for the tea to arrive revolved around all the gossip that the girls had to give and take. Manel gave eye signals to the other two to look towards her right. Sitting in the corner was a tired-looking woman with two little children. She was trying desperately to feed the baby on her lap while the older child, who looked around two, was demanding her attention with shrill cries while tugging at her arm and dress.

‘Aren’t you glad we aren’t in that situation?’ remarked Tina in a hushed tone. ‘The poor woman can hardly manage those two and she looks pregnant with a third. God help her! Manel and I are glad marriage is not on our agenda,’ said Tina. Manel gave the woman a sympathetic smile as she caught her eye for a moment.

‘I totally agree,’ remarked Rita, looking at the woman with pity. ‘Just imagine, she’d never have the time to meet with friends like we do or have any time to herself. How lucky we are to be independent!’

The tea arrived, and now the girls had other things to discuss.

‘Let’s see now…, who’s this preacher?’ said Rita as she ironed out the pamphlet with her palm. ‘Dennis Perera! No, it can’t be the Dennis Perera I’m thinking of.’

She screwed her face to scrutinise the small portrait inset.

‘My God! It is him! I’ll never forget those large, piercing eyes of his. This really is the same person. He lived next door to us and he got kicked out of school when he was just twelve. After that he was in no end of trouble with the police; breaking and entering, burglary, car theft, you name it, he was involved. So now he claims to be a man of God! Yes, we must definitely attend to see what this chap’s up to. Let’s make it tomorrow, are we agreed?’

‘Yes, after what you’ve just said, I’m even more interested to hear what this “man of God” has to say,’ remarked Tina.

Arriving at the scene the next day was an experience in itself. There was an immense throng gathering for the convention, which was housed under a large tent with loud speakers fitted all around. The market stallholders were still busy packing up for the day; large piles of rubbish had yet to be collected. A strong aroma of roasted peanuts and ripe fruit - mangoes, durians, and bananas wafted around with the occasional breeze. It was the open-air market that was being used for the convention and already the space appeared to be inadequate; such was the public interest and enthusiasm to hear this radical speaker whose fame was without a doubt spreading far and wide. The girls felt increasingly uncomfortable as more and more people made their way in, pushing and jostling for a reasonable enough spot. Rita kept mopping the sweat off her brow every few minutes and Manel was never gladder that she carried that small fan in her handbag. The air inside the tent had become stale and oppressive, unbearable until the meeting got under way. When it did, they soon forgot the physical discomforts; the crowd focussed with intent on the stage.

The voice boomed out from behind the podium. ‘Hallelujah! Thank you, Lord, for saving a sinner like me. Thank you for washing away my sins. I was once a sinner, a lost soul. Yet, you took me by the hand and washed me in the blood of Jesus Christ and I am now re-born! Thank you, Lord, hallelujah! We praise and give thanks to you, Oh Lord, Amen… Amen!’

As pastor Dennis’s voice boomed through the loudspeakers, the audience swayed and swooned, mimicking his words. He in turn paused after each utterance, to hear their response and ensure their participation.

‘Praise the Lord.’

‘Hallelujah.’

‘Amen, thank you, Lord.’

‘Wash me in the blood of Jesus Christ. Let me be re-born. Amen.’

This prologue was followed by a sermon like no other the three girls had ever heard. It honed in on the stories of Jesus healing the sick, making the blind man see and enabling the lame to walk. The audience was tantalised, mesmerised; the sincerity injected into this sermon was compelling and utterly impossible to dismiss as fraudulent. This expectation, after all, is what the three friends had come to confirm, and now they were utterly dumbfounded.

‘My word, he certainly is one hell of a speaker,’ said Tina. ‘I never expected one of our countrymen to speak with such clarity and power.’

‘I am totally and utterly impressed. I can hardly believe that I am here listening to this guy speak this way. Let’s move a bit closer to the front so we can see him better,’ said Rita. The girls squeezed their way towards the front and waited in anticipation.

Pastor Dennis had gone into a sort of trance, still vociferous but in a gentler, quieter tone. He was coaxing those who were infirm, whatever that infirmity be, to have faith in God, mount the podium, and ask for healing. Slowly but surely, five or six people made their way up. Together with two other pastors, they prayed, asking for forgiveness and cleansing. Then came the laying of hands on the sick individuals, one by one. Pastor Dennis then proceeded to ask each of them to testify about what had happened.

‘I was blind in my left eye…, but now I can see! It’s a miracle, praise be to God! I can cover my right eye and I can see you and you…, and you,’ he said, pointing to the three pastors on the stage. ‘And I can see all of you down there,’ he said, pointing to the masses in front of him. ‘Thank you, Lord, for healing me.’

‘I have used these crutches for the last ten years when I lost the use of my right limb in a road accident. But look…, I don’t need my crutches anymore. I can walk again!’ The man threw his crutches on the stage and strode up and down the podium to demonstrate his mobility. He flung his arms up to praise the Lord and give thanks, as did the audience in happy bewilderment.

The faith healing was what the people had come for and what they had witnessed had convinced much of the audience that Pastor Perera had delivered on his promise. Here was a genuine man of God, a man so blessed that they could really hope to have their ailments and disabilities disappear; all that was required was their faith, to allow him to lay his hands on them. Miracles were taking place in front of their very eyes! The fervour inside the tent was high. Emotive music blared out of the megaphones singing songs of praise; the audience caught on quickly and the sound built up to a thunderous crescendo.

An usher herded the newly healed to the rear of the podium, whence they presumably left, and re-joined the audience to share their experiences. Rita astutely made note of this. She was determined to find out what was taking place backstage, and so it was that the three girls attended the convention yet again the next day. 

‘I know you say he was a terrible person, Rita, but people do change and I am convinced that Dennis has changed for the better,’ remarked Manel.

‘Rubbish!’ said Rita. ‘We’re going to check this out again…, properly.’

Arriving early the next day, they positioned themselves towards the side of the podium. It was the ‘faith healing’ that the girls questioned. They waited. The rejoicing over the healing ended, and the participants were being moved to the rear of the stage. The girls squeezed their way through the crowd to the back of the tent.

‘Tina! Watch your step. You’re about to trip on that peg sticking out.’

‘My heels are getting stuck in the mud,’ wailed Tina.

‘Shush, be quiet and watch. Listen, and try not to be seen,’ said Rita in a sharpish voice.

They peered through the flaps of the tent into the back room. An assistant had guided in three men and two women; he stood in front of them, monitoring the process. A man was sitting at a table, counting out ten-rupee notes and stacking them up in neat piles. The five ‘devotees’ were beckoned to line up in front of him. The first was handed a pile of notes which the man in charge counted out loud.

‘This is only one hundred rupees. I was promised five hundred!’ the recipient sounded indignant.

‘Keep your voice down or you won’t be getting anything,’ said the other. ‘You have not finished your job as yet. Remember, you must go out…, mingle with the audience. Rejoice and praise the Lord and remind them that you have been healed. They must get a positive message from you, and don’t forget, you must be here tomorrow as well when the convention wraps up. That’s when you’ll get the rest of your money. And the same applies to all of you.’ With that, he gave each their down payment and had them escorted out.

‘Ah-ha, exactly what I thought,’ whispered Rita jubilantly.

Manel and Tina seemed shocked and aghast. Was this really what was going on? They tip-toed around the side and left the show, leaving the gullible to enjoy it.

‘I need a cup of tea badly,’ said Manel. ‘Let’s go to Patti’s.’ They trundled off to discuss this fresh but disturbing experience.            

This was just the beginning of the evangelical movement in Colombo. It grew into a mass movement with exponential momentum. Island nations seemed particularly drawn by what the ministry offered and people attended the rallies in droves. But the three friends soon forgot all about their personal experience until six months later, when a newspaper article caught Tina’s observant eye.    

‘Well-known and respected evangelist minister, Pastor Dennis remanded in connection with smuggling of contraband comprising gold watches and electronic goods worth one million US dollars…’

‘Didn’t I tell you, that man is as crooked as they come?’ remarked Rita jubilantly. ‘Once a thief, always a thief.’

Manel was bitterly disappointed and insisted that there was possibly a misrepresentation of facts. The charismatic Dennis with his hypnotic eyes had very much swayed her. The girls followed the case with interest, but eventually, the news seemed to fizzle out. Dennis, no doubt, had the right connections to bail him out. The incident had a negative impact on his congregation. This was bad news; they began to doubt him.

But Dennis insisted on preaching, carrying on the ministry, and confessing to his weaknesses of falling prey to evil. Yes, he had faltered, but he had repented of his sinful ways, and prayed fervently for God’s forgiveness. And God had forgiven him…, Hallelujah! Dennis re-established his former glory and ministered on.

***

Almost a year passed by and this time it was Manel who saw the news article, which made headlines.

‘Pastor Dennis Perera, well-known evangelist and faith healer caught by customs inspectors in connection with the smuggling of illegal and harmful drugs worth ten million US dollars. Pastor Perera has been denied bail because of to the severity of the offence and several past convictions ….’

Manel, Tina, and Rita had a field day that evening, staying on into the late hours at Patti’s Tea House.

The case dragged on for months and this time there was no wriggle room for “His Holiness”, the pastor. He received a ten-year jail term; and thus, ended what could have been a lifelong career of hoodwinking a gullible congregation. Dennis Perera became a forgotten name within a few years.

***

Five years later at Welikada, Maximum Security Prison, the prison warden knocked on the door and waited.

‘Come in.’

‘Your Holiness…, Pastor Dennis, they have asked me to summon you to a meeting with the superintendent. If you would just follow me, please…, I’ll escort you to his office.’

‘Thank you, Sunil. You are a good man and God will surely bless you and your family,’ said Pastor Dennis, giving Sunil a gentle pat on his shoulder.

‘Thank you, Your Holiness. I feel most blessed to be addressed in such a manner by Your Holiness.’

They walked down and around a few corridors. The warden knocked on the superintendent’s door and bowed as he ushered Pastor Dennis in. He closed the door, still bowing to Pastor Dennis. He was a reformed man since he had attended Pastor Dennis’ prayer meetings.

‘Ah! Here we are at last. Do sit down, Pastor Dennis,’ said the superintendent. ‘I hope your quarters are a little more comfortable since we last met. I asked the wardens to ensure that you have everything you need…, within reason, of course.’

‘I have no complaints, brother John,’ said Dennis. ‘What I do hope is that you have some good news for me.’

‘Of course, that is why I wished to see you,’ said John in a semi-whisper. ‘The seagull has landed, and it’s roosting safely in its nest…, awaiting further orders. Rather a big catch, I believe!’

‘That’s splendid news, John. In that case, we should celebrate… Any champagne?’

‘At your service, Pastor Dennis,’ remarked the superintendent as he deftly pulled out a bottle and two glasses from his drawer.

‘The commissioner knows the situation then?’

‘Of course. All’s in order. Not a thing for you to worry about, Sir,’ remarked John. He was intoxicated with the thought of his cut, his dream life come true at last.

‘In that case, I’ll be sleeping well tonight.’

Dennis smiled to himself. He would soon be a multi-millionaire, jetting off into the sunset.