The AC Phoenix
March 2003
Page 5
EVERYDAY HEROES
(The Bahama Journal)
By: Colin Tatem
The Church Business
When I was 18 years old (in
1960), I found myself on an
extended visit to Cocoa Beach,
Florida, while my ship was in dry
dock. All of the crew members
pulled shipboard duty, but we had an enormous amount of time left to
just hang around the docks (none of us had any money). A kind, very
gentlemanly, dock worker befriended me, and invited me to visit his
church. He was a minister. The following, beautifully serene Sunday
morning, I was collected by a chauffeur driven, immaculately polished
white Cadillac, and taken to a large church, where the Reverend and his
Deacons greeted me.
The good Reverend advised me that “everyone,” knew that I was
coming, and that he wanted me to, “say a few words.” It was a joyous
service of praise and worship. The choir, of about 40 strong, rendered
songs of fhe love of God that I had never heard before, which
mesmerized me, and drew me into the wondrous spirit of celebration.
My feet moved rhythmically, and I clapped my hands, as my body
swayed with the music, and perspiration poured down my face, and from
every pore of my body. I felt myself in fhe presence of Almighty God,
and I danced like David.
In my lengthy conversations with “Rev” on the docks, I told him that I
was a member of Youth For Christ on Grand Turk in the Turks & Caicos
Islands, and that we held services on street corners and in meeting halls.
What I did not tell him was that what attracted me to Youth for Christ
were the charming young ladies who attended (I also went to the
Anglican, Baptist, Methodist and Church of God services, for the very
same reason). My only contribution to Youth for Christ was occasionally
transporting and setting up the public announcing system, which gave
me bragging and hang about rights. I did listen intently to every sermon
though, and even today, I remember many of them.
After a while, the church became very quiet, with everyone seated and
airing themselves with cardboard fans on pop-sickle stick handles,
contributed by a local funeral home. We all needed to cool off after the
songs of praise. The Reverend went to the pulpit and spoke for some
time, with the congregation cheering him on. Seated on the dais behind
the pulpit with the Deacons, I joined them in shouting “Amen,” and
“Praise the Lord,” at regular intervals. “Rev” was good, he delivered
each line with that wonderful cadence of the American rural black
Southern preacher.
Then it was my time to, “say a few words,” but when the Reverend
introduced me, he said, “My brother Colin Tatem from the Youth for
Christ in the islands is our preacher today.” As I joined him at the pulpit,
I whispered, “How long?” To which he replied, “Take an hour.” I stood
there quietly, and stared at the sea of women and young children in the
congregation, with a few wizened old men sitting on the aisles and at the
back of the church. The words of an array of sermons rushed through
my mind, sermons I had heard since I was a boy - and I knew what I had
to say - God guided me.
The swishing fans stood still mid-air, and all eyes, like little radiant
pools of warm embracing light, focused on me, as I heard myself say, “I
bring you greetings from my islands, and a message of Love.” 1 took my
text from John 3:16, “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only
begotten Son, that whosoever believed in Him should not perish, but
have everlasting life,” and I preached, yes, I preached, for a little over an
hour. Many came forward to receive blessings.
I was treated to a soul food afternoon meal by the Reverend, his
Deacons and their wives, presented with a stuffed manila envelope, and
sent back to my ship, in the white Cadillac. It was not until that night
that I counted the enormous fortune I was given, as my share of the
collection (the baskets were passed several times). Over the next few
days I reverted to being the typical young reprobate of a sailor,
frequenting every bar room, night club and brothel I could find. Enough
money was left over to buy a brand new BSA motorcycle after I left the
ship in San Salvador on the voyage down-line to the missile tracking
stations, and returned to Nassau.
Many years later, after a late night flight from Atlanta, I ran across
“Rev” again, supervising a cleaning crew at La Guardia Airport in New
York. He had “lost” his church in Florida and had reestablished himself
in a Harlem storefront. I accepted an invitation to visit his new church.
Another shiny white Cadillac collected me at my mid-town hotel (“Rev”
loved those white Cadillacs!). After the service, the good Reverend,
now a gentleman rather advanced in years, treated me to a tasty and
filling meal at a little restaurant filled with a myriad of smells of the
Southern pot, where we talked about old times, and future plans.
The Reverend made me an interesting proposition. He offered me
the Pastorship of his church, with him serving as Deacon and Business
Manager. He was certain that within a year we could have at least a half
dozen storefront churches, in Harlem, the Bronx and Brooklyn,
operated by Deacons, with me as the visiting Pastor. Reverend told me
that I had a silver tongue, and that for a “pretty, red, soft haired nigger”
like me, the sisters would open their purses. He winked and roared a
thunderous belly laugh, as he pointed out that there would also be,
“fringe benefits.” I promised to consider his offer, but we never saw
each other again - he became a memory of my exciting, but errant
youth.
Now, as a Monk and Writer, I wield my pen to earn the money to
support my ministry of prayer and service to people in need, The Order
of St. Cornelius the Centurion (do an Internet search - Abbot Dr. Colin
Tatem). My stipend as a guest speaker is a maximum of $100.00, if a
church, organization or educational institution insists on giving me
something, with transportation extra of course, as I no longer drive, but
train, bus or any old car will do. I regret the many sins of my rebellious,
but eventful and enlightening youth, and all the other sins I have com
mitted over the years, in my search for the face of God. Like Paul, I
have seen the Light.
All churches collect money, and they use it to buy property, pay
ministers and other staff members, operate schools and colleges,
provide social services, and for evangelizing. Some of the very best
preparatory schools and universities in the world are church owned and
operated (I got my grounding at St. John’s College), by many Christian
denominations (as well as Judaism and Islam), and Catholic
Community Services is one of the largest global social service
agencies. The advancement of Western Civilization is tied to the
spread of Christianity, and the church still has a major role to play in the
future development of well ordered sociefies. The Bahamian church
has always been, and will always be, a major force for good In our
islands.
God bless and guide all who serve their brothers and sisters through
the church, and help them to search out Your lost sheep, returning them
to Your flock.
God bless you, guard you, and remain with you, this day and forev
er.
God bless us all, and guide us on our journey as individuals, and as
one people of our beloved Bahamian nation, as we move Forward,
Upward, Onward Together.
I invite you to visit my web-site. The Order di St. Cornelius The
Centurion at: http://community.nj.com/cc/stcornelius.