My congregation is a member of the New Esoteric Christian Church. We are a flock of discriminating souls sharing a unique collection of beliefs. Some outsiders consider that we have unorthodox Rites and Liturgy. We perform Gregorian chants and use incense wafted from swaying censers. We observe the tenets of a religion that encourages sex for procreation but not for gratification. Once you have sufficient children, or are unable to have children, sex becomes wantonly superfluous.
Rejuvenation by prayer and group visualization is ecstatically gratifying. Imagine group hugs and sitting in a circle holding hands to focus positively on one individual's problem? Not mainstream! We don't have Sunday barbecues and parish outings nor know each other's business.
The uniqueness of our religion means that we don't all live locally. Congregants travel to gather for about three hours on Sunday and occasionally on a weekday evening for special observances. I have a few hundred believers scattered around town in various areas of the city. They are a devoted and bountiful assembly. I try to visit them in their homes at their request or by a social invitation whenever possible.
For example, I visited one couple I have ministered to for many years, Rex and Jill Shannon. Recently Rex had suffered some kind of stroke which had left him paralyzed in a coma. Consequently, they were unable to attend our Sunday services. Jill phoned to see if I could look in on them at my convenience.
******
I drove over to their luxuriant community. Rex's single-level home is set on a half-acre treed lot. Jill welcomed me at the door and ushered me into the spotless living room. The fragrance of pine redolent of fresh cleaning. I settled in one end of a settee and Jill sat in an adjacent chair. Before her sat a jug of iced tea with glasses placed on a classy tray.
Jill Shannon is a 34-year-old government economics analyst who enjoys jigsaw puzzles and bird-watching. She is a gentle woman, always ready to help when needed. Jill was raised by her mother after the premature death of her dentist father when she was young
Her adherence to the enigmatic New Esoteric Christian religion bemuses her friends. As a vegetarian who plays tennis and speed walks, Jill keeps in fine shape. She is of average height with smooth, freckled skin. Her ginger hair and hazel eyes invoked the image of a Celtic enchantress.
She took me in to see Rex who lay on a bed with his eyes closed. This was not the Rex I remembered. Physically, Rex was of average build, a touch overweight but otherwise in good shape. A hint of grey hair above the ears indicated late thirties. He loved to watch sports and relaxed by doing crossword puzzles. Rex grew up in a working-class Boston neighborhood. His Irish mother left when he was young, leaving him with his father, who was a drunk.
Rex had a competitive ambitious character that led to a business degree from UMass. As a cultivated and congenial person, success beckoned Rex. His agreeable personality propelled him into management at an early age with an insurance company.
Rex's room, which had been the dining room, was rearranged like a private hospital room. There was medical equipment with monitoring dials with blinking lights, and an IV stand. The sterile room breathed of a purified hospital area. Yet subdued lights and quiet, mellow jazz implied more of a piano bar ambiance.
We returned to the living room and settled down to our tea. I asked how she was coping. She sorely missed Rex's companionship. They have been married for nearly twelve years and regretted being childless. Financially they were quite comfortable. Rex had great medical insurance and, if necessary, he would be eligible for long-term disability. This was fortuitous as Jill could devote herself to his care if necessary. After a long chat and tender commiserations from me, we prayed together. I was preparing to leave when Jill moved closer to me and asked in a hushed voice.
"Reverend, can I discuss a medical issue with you?"
"Of course!" I answered. "But my medical knowledge is about as good as my Chinese language skills!"
With a gulp. Jill continued softly, "This is more of a moral thing, really."
"OK. Let's see if I can help." I probed, intrigued.
"Rex has been in this condition for nearly a month now. We have great health insurance and all our medical needs are taken care of," she explained.
"A nurse comes in to see him twice a week." Jill continued. "She takes care of all the medical matters. I look after his personal needs daily." Anyway, she passed on instructions from the attending physician to ensure Rex was sexually relieved once a week." Jill said.
She hesitated, unsure how to continue.
"This revelation startled me! Rex and I have a very low-key sexual relationship, in line with our church's teaching. Both of us are rather inhibited. Just the basic missionary stuff. And no experimenting, if you know what I mean?"
Directing her gaze downward, Jill faltered
"We essentially followed the church teaching apart from the occasional lapse. Before this, Rex usually ended the evening by doing a crossword in bed."
"And you?" I inquired
"Well, it's hard to do a jigsaw puzzle in bed" she smiled demurely.
"Of course." I needed to uncomplicate this explanation which I surmised was difficult for her. "This requirement must have come as quite a shock!"
"Apparently, it would be beneficial for Rex's continued health and possible recovery." Jill continued. "So I told the nurse to go ahead."
"'Good heavens, Jill! I can't do that!'" barked the nurse. "'It's unprofessional and I could lose my license. Anyway, as a loving wife it should be your duty and your joy to assist in his recovery and well-being.'"
"After the nurse left, I made an attempt but it was frustratingly unsatisfactory." continued Jill.
"First of all, I'm not really sure how to do it properly. I probably did it all wrong because I got no reaction from Rex."
"It's possible you can't get a reaction at all depending on his condition." I offered "Or maybe it's just too early in his recovery."
"Can you show me what I should be doing? Is that too shameless to ask of you, Reverend?"
******
Rex lay flat on his back, arms at his side, covered by a light bed-sheet. The room temperature was controlled for comfort. Jill folded back the sheet to reveal Rex in a loose-fitting nightshirt. I didn't realize these survived the last century. Jill explained that it was way more serviceable than traditional pajamas. The lightly patterned cotton garment had a half dozen buttons down the front. Jill unbuttoned it up to his waist and folded it back on each side.
"So where do I start, Reverend?" asked Jill.
"I suggest that you bring some type of light lubricant or lotion so that you don't irritate his organ. Is that what you call it?"
"If I need to refer to it, I just call it a 'Willy'" Jill stuttered.
Rex's penis just lay there vegetating on his thigh. It looked puny, probably shriveled up from underuse. As Jill went to fetch the lotion, I reflected on Rex's collapsed member. It seemed rather sad just reposing there like a circumcised mislaid memory. A proclamation of emasculated promise. Jill reappeared with a miscellany of creams, oil, and lotions.
"Okay! Now apply the lotion generously to your hands and apply it to the shaft. Include the testicles. This segment here," I pointed to the helmet-shaped onion, " is the most sensitive, especially the rim.
