Valentina

                              Valentina 

                             Jack Bernard Rhodes   

The bedroom door creaked open, and I was once again overwhelmed by terror. I was about five years old when my sister, Valentina, would quietly walk into my room at bedtime. Sometimes I could fool her by pretending to be asleep.  One night I remember her saying, “I know you’re awake, Marco. You just went to bed, and it’s time for your prayer. You’re so silly, and why do you act like you’re sleeping? Do I scare you? She asked with a giggle. “It’s just a simple bedtime prayer. Now, put your hands in mine.” It became a nightly routine that I dreaded.

For me, it wasn’t just a simple prayer but a nightmare. Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep? Really? Is God going to take my soul? If I should die before I wake? Hearing those words left me too petrified to sleep, for I was certain that one night I would never awaken. A few of those nights, I would arouse and scream in utter horror, for in my dreams, I was dragged away by a giant hand. It wasn’t just the realism of those words that scared me. It was also the sound of Valentina’s voice.  She was blessed with an exceptionally eloquent and persuasive speech. She was only nine but had a rare gift, that made her prayer seem so real.

The following year our church was preparing for an annual event that allowed its teens to do an entire Sunday service. One of the boys was always chosen to conduct the spiritual message on Youth Day. Another would lead the choir and a group of four boys would collect the offering. Teenagers of both genders would make up the choir. 

Valentina had been anticipating the event since the year before when Matthew was its chosen teen pastor for that Sunday. He nervously stammered partially through a written sermon his mother prepared. He finally raised his head after reading only for a minute after stuttering and mispronouncing his words. He was overwhelmed with a wave of shock at the sight of over four hundred people sitting in the pews, staring back at him. He stood frozen, with his head down, until his mother hurried on the stage and grabbed his shirt collar to lead him back to their pew.

“You want to be this year’s youth pastor? Are you kidding?” Esther, our mother asked Valentina, in astonishment. 

“Well, I heard they were going to let Matthew do it again! Abigail Spinster said he pee-peed his pants.” Valentina said with a laugh.  

“Don’t say such a thing! Matthew is Pastor Finnigan's son! That poor boy was just nervous. He’s such a sweet young man and he wants to be just like his daddy.  It’s not biblical for girls to participate in a church sermon anyway, honey”. Our mother tried to reason with Valentina. “You're too young, anyway”! 

 Valentina waited for our dad to arrive home from work. She was the epitome of a daddy’s girl and he loved her to the breaking point. He would pretty much do anything for her and he would not deny her the chance to be the youth pastor. For one so young, she expressed herself clearly and effectively in a way that was difficult for either of our parents to resist her charm.

Pastor Franklin Finnigan, sat in his office and pondered how life could have been different if he’d not chosen to be a clergyman. He remembered, as a child, how he combed the area collecting arrowheads. He had an impressive number of them he’d kept all these years. It was really the only time he enjoyed true happiness. He decided to be an archaeologist and travel the world to study artifacts. However, his overbearing father, who was also a pastor, said it was a stupid idea. He persuaded Franklin to forget about such a silly dream, as he described it. “It’s always been my wish, son, that you follow in my footsteps,” his dad would say. 

Pastor Finnigan had received an unanticipated visit from Booker Victor, one of his most active and generous laymen. He had the audaciousness to ask that the church break with its tradition and allow his daughter, Valentina to deliver the sermon on Youth Day. Finnigan guessed her age to only be about ten. Not only would the deacons oppose a female child, but Eleanor, the pastor’s wife, decided that Matthew would do the service again. This was despite his disastrous performance the previous year. He took an antacid to relieve his indigestion that was coming and going in waves.

 Martha Higginbotham was known to speak her mind. It seemed she would scrutinize every word that Pastor Finnigan uttered, as he stood behind the podium. Often, on Sunday afternoons as he relaxed with family, she would call to take issue with his morning sermons. Finnigan had just arrived home after an exhausting day that finished with a meeting with his deacons. A number of topics were discussed including the request that the young Victor girl be the annual youth pastor. After a contentious debate that concluded with a prayer, a final decision still wasn’t made. Finnigan usually allowed the deacons to make decisions, upon a vote, although he had veto power. The phone rang and as he picked up to answer he was not surprised to hear the voice of Mrs. Higginbotham.

 Without even a greeting, she shouted, “you’re not going to allow that little girl to try and preach a sermon, are you?”

He had no doubt that one of the deacons would leak this matter that should have been kept confidential until approved. He didn’t think it would be disclosed this soon after the meeting. Overcome by frustration of the day, his patience with Mrs. Higginbotham had run its course and he shouted back. “Yes Martha!” He had never used her first name. “Valentina Victor will be our youth pastor!” 

Egos were normally left at the door when the church members disagreed, even concerning earthly political differences. However, news that Valentina would be the youth pastor, even though it would be for just one Sunday service, caused many to threaten to find a church home, elsewhere. It was a hotly debated issue in the church of that time over the issue of females serving as pastors for it violated the articles of faith. Nonetheless, overcome with curiosities, the church was at its capacity on that day. Parents filled with anxiety, prayed their teens performed well. Others who usually skipped previous annual youth services, because they felt it was boring, attended as gawkers. For many it was viewed as an unbiblical and unforgivable practice.

 The atmosphere inside the packed auditorium seemed as if its attendees expected to witness an enigma.

The buzz in the auditorium quieted as the organist played Beautiful Savior and performed surprisingly well for a thirteen-year-old. One-by-one the choir made their way to their seats. A young song leader wearing a suit, one sized too big, borrowed from his dad, stood before the patrons. After the end of three short hymns, Valentina walked confidently to the stage. Profuse Gasps could be heard as she stood behind the podium. Sitting on the front row was Herschel Berger, the director of Deacons, who glared in disdain. 

During the days leading up to that moment, Valentina was very careful that nobody could overhear her rehearsing her sermon. She repeatedly practiced in front of a mirror and did numerous recordings. Within the first five minutes of her message, the mood among the crowd became lively. Within minutes “amens” could be heard from all over the auditorium. Then someone sitting in the back row loudly uttered a word that had never been used in memory of the congregation when he shouted “hallelujah”!  Then the word was loudly heard again and again. People rose to their feet in excitement and dozens walked to the alter to kneel. Many were praying out loud and Mrs. Higginbotham was dancing in the aisle. Deacon Berger looked up at the ceiling with his arms held out as if he was reaching for heaven. 

Cell phone videos, of the scene, were posted on various social media sights by that evening.  Rumors had spread throughout the community and beyond the following day. Some believed the behavior that was out of character within that church was a bizarre form of mass hysteria of an unknown cause. Others said it was somehow drug induced possibly from spiked communion wine.  Those in attendance said it was the Holy Spirit that made itself present and roused the church like never before. A televangelist that would one day captivate the nation and the world was born.