The Pastor

By Asche

Copyright 2015

Chapter 8 -- Meeting Jessica

The next morning, as the pastor was finishing breakfast, they got a call. Mary handed him the phone. It was Mrs. Taylor.

"I just sent Jesse off to school. He said he'd like to meet you as Jessica. Would Saturday morning work for you? I don't have to be at the store until 11:00. And Jessica would be very happy to have Mary there, but she wants to know what she should wear?"

"I think that would work fine for us. Bonnie has ballet at 9:00 and Jeff has basketball at 9:30. I think Jessica should wear whatever she likes best. I'm sure whatever she picks will be pretty." They said their goodbyes, and the pastor hung up.

"Mary," he said, "I have a favor to ask of you. It's about this -- pastoral issue I've been wrestling with."

"Warren, you know I'm ready to help you with anything I can. But what is it?"

"You know that little boy Jesse and his momma? Well, it seems he believes he's really a little girl inside. His momma has been giving him girls' clothes and letting him pretend to be a girl named Jessica when they're alone. They've been talking to me, but I haven't been able to help them. I asked if I could meet 'Jessica' tomorrow morning, while Bonnie's at ballet and Jeff is at basketball. And I was wondering if you might be willing to go along, so he doesn't feel so much like I'm coming to judge him."

"Of course I'll come."

"I really appreciate it, Mary," he said as he got up and headed towards the door. Mary came up behind him and put her arms around him.

"Warren, I'm really -- I'm really touched that you would trust me with something like this. There's a big part of your life that you usually shut me out of, and I feel like I'm the Martha in your life. It's nice to be your Mary sometimes."

The pastor went to his office with a heart that was lighter than it had been in weeks. He still wondered if what he was doing was doctrinally correct, but he knew, whatever the answer might be, he could do no other than to accept Jesse as he or she was and stand with her.

But once he was sitting in his office, surrounded by his books and responsibilities, doubts began to creep in. Was he not committing the sin of pride, imagining that his feeling of right and wrong were wiser than the theologians of the church? He knew he was an indifferent scholar, good enough to write sermons for a small town like Hopewell, but he had no hope of refuting the arguments of those who had taught him the proper way of understanding the Word of the Lord. It was his little heart against the wisdom of the Church.

Yet when he thought of Jesse's sad face at church last Sunday, and of the polite and mannerly way he spoke on the phone, he knew he could not follow the Church's teachings in this. He thought of the German pastor who, when the children were being sent to the concentration camps, went with them and died along side them, so they at least would not be alone. If Jesse's going to Hell, I'll be there with him. But then he thought: and if he's going to Heaven? "... for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven."

* - * - * - *

The next morning, the pastor and Mary decided to walk to the Taylors' house. It was one of those crisp December days when winter seems almost kind, and parsonage and the house where Jesse and his mother rented the second floor were near the middle of town. Mary had on a silver cross on a necklace, but the pastor had chosen not to wear any of the signs of his office. Mary had brought a bag of her home-baked Christmas cookies, because of course it wouldn't do to come empty-handed. (It couldn't possibly be because she was proud of her baking!)

Mrs. Taylor answered the door.

"Marisa!" "Mary! What a surprise!" The two women hugged and exchanged pleasantries like they were long-lost cousins. "And Reverend Hanley, it's an honor. Come on upstairs, Jesse" -- here she got a little more sober -- "that is, Jessica, is waiting to meet you."

Mrs. Taylor led them up the stairs to the apartment, where they found themselves in the kitchen. "Set yourselves down, I'll get Jesse." The pastor had said not one word, and wasn't sure he could have even if he'd wanted to. A few minutes later, Jesse -- no, Jessica -- came shyly into the room, gently pushed by her mother.

She was wearing a knee-length light blue dress -- the same light blue that the Virgin Mary is often depicted as wearing. It had a white Peter Pan collar, a smocked bodice, puffed sleeves that came down just past her elbows, and a gathered skirt with a ruffle at the bottom. She had white cable-knit knee socks and black patent-leather shoes with a strap, and on her head was a broad-brimmed hat in the same blue as the dress. She was holding her hands behind her back and had a nervous smile.

"Oh, aren't you just adorable!" gushed Mary as she got up and approached Jessica. "May I have a hug?" Jessica put her arms around Mary's waist and Mary put her arms around Jessica's shoulders. The pastor got up, too, but wasn't quite sure where he belonged in the love-fest.

"Let me look at you again," said Mary, disengaging from Jessica. "That dress is just so pretty. And the hat! Jessica, please give it a whirl so we can see the whole thing." She obligingly twirled, and the skirt flew up just enough to see the hem of a simple eyelet-trimmed cotton petticoat.

The pastor finally found his voice. "That's mighty pretty, indeed, Jess--ica." He hadn't yet found his eloquence.

Jessica's face turned somber. "You mean, I won't go to Hell?"

"No, Jessica. I mean, the Lord doesn't consult with me before rendering His judgements, but I can't believe that He'd send you to Hell. I can believe that He made you to be just as you are, like the lilies of the field."

Hearing that, Jessica got a huge smile on her face and ran over to the pastor and threw her arms around him and gave him a big hug. "Do you mean that?" she asked.

"Yes. When I said it was a sin, I was wrong. I can see that now. I can see that this is who you are, and it is not wrong. God doesn't make mistakes."

"Ooh, I'm so happy," squealed Jessica as she hugged herself and danced and twirled around the kitchen. She grabbed her mother's hands and they sashayed around in a circle.

Eventually, she settled down and they all sat down. Marisa put the cookies on a plate and served them drinks. Jessica had milk, Marisa chose apple juice, while the pastor and Mary went with water.

Midway through her third cookie, Jessica got a serious expression on her face. "Reverend, do you think Jesus would like it if I wore a dress to church tomorrow?"

"Well, that's up to your momma, but if she says it's okay, it's fine with me. And if anyone gives you grief, let me know and I'll have a little talk with them." When Marisa and Mary both gave him a questioning look, he added serenely, "judge not, that ye be not judged."

The pastor couldn't help noticing that Jesse's -- Jessica's face was filled with a smile that he didn't recall having seen in ages. And she was filled with more life than could possibly fit into her seven-year-old body. He wasn't quite sure what he would do if -- more likely, when -- Jessica showed up in church, but he was determined that he would take her side somehow.

When the cookies were gone, Marisa sent Jessica off to wash her hands. "Mrs. Taylor," said the pastor. "I can see you were right. It would have been like drowning kittens. I'll do whatever I can to help her, and you both."

"I will, too," said Mary. "Maybe we can invite her over to play with Bonnie during Christmas vacation."

"We'll have to see," said Marisa. "To be honest, this is quite a shock. It'll take me some time to adjust to it. Both of us, I think."

Jessica came back in, with clean hands, and they said their goodbyes. As Marisa was showing them out, Mary said, "we'll be in touch. Don't hesitate to call me."

The pastor was lost in his thoughts. But as he pondered, he had a sense of a Gentle Shepherd looking down from Heaven and smiling at him for the first time since he was a little boy.