As I climbed the stairs to the pulpit, I braced myself. Although I had seen it fairly clearly from the altar and during the weeks and months before, it made it no less disheartening. And indeed, when I finally got myself up to the pulpit, once again I could see one more.
A seat was empty and another of my flock had decided not to show up to Sunday mass. She was just middle-aged so I doubted it was likely she had died. Unlike some of the regulars. Of course it might seem a bit rash to assume they weren't going to come at all after one absence but it had grown to be a trend. Attendance had dropped steadily during my predecessor's time as well, leaving only the most fervent believers. Curiously, however, the largest drop had come after a woman had taken the pulpit. I wish I could have told myself that it wasn't about that, but some of the former comers had been rather adamant on expressing their views of me and my position.
It felt slightly meaningless to start a sermon about the unity of a community when mine was abandoning me. I suppose God was still with me, although they did say something quite to the contrary in the gatherings of my former flock members. As I was telling of a modern Samaritan I had read of online to my congregation of mostly empty pews, I wondered if I should keep coming up here each Sunday even after everyone else had stopped.
There was, however, one comfort, which God had provided me: a new church-goer. During the past few weeks a young man had come on every Sunday to listen to my sermons. He had not sung any of the hymns but I think I had seen his lips move during prayer. All in all, he seemed like the shy sort. Apart from his looks — thin, about my own height, I'd guess, with light brown hair — I didn't know much more about him. It seemed like he was the first to leave no matter where he had sat during the mass, and even though I would have wanted to, I hadn't had a chance to have a word with him. Most likely he was simply too shy to be too outward about his faith, but I was glad that he had joined my flock.
This time I couldn't see him too well, however. He had chosen to sit near the end of one of the pews next to the pulpit. He was on the edge of my vision though so I could at least be certain that he was there, unlike the few other people in the very first rows on the pulpit side. Looking at him from the corner of my eye gave me a faint sense of pride and hope and I glanced at him quite frequently. When I watched the near-empty pews, I certainly needed a bit of a self-confidence boost from time to time.
I quickly glanced down to check my notes I had prepared for the sermon. Each time I did so, I could see my newest flock member slightly better. It was always just for a moment so as not to seem like I had actually forgotten what to say. Lord only knows how many of my remaining comers would I lose if that happened. He wasn't quite with his back to me nor was he next to me, and I mainly saw the left side of his face, shoulder, and somewhat his legs as well.
Usually he seemed rather stiff and nervous to be here but today I had noticed far more movement from him. He still seemed nervous but not in the same way. Instead, he had been looking around quite a bit during the whole time I had been in the pulpit, like he was looking for something. Whatever that was, he soon either found it or gave up looking, and I saw him settle down from the corner of my eye.
As I started telling my flock to not be afraid about the seeming chaos of the world, that God had a plan for all of us, I glanced down again. I saw the young man had changed position slightly, sitting now with his hips slightly closer to the edge of his seat. Perhaps more relaxed than the last but with my quick look, I thought I had seen something lighter against his trousers. I shifted slightly to bring him a bit away from the very edge of my vision. While keeping up the appearances for the rest of the congregation, I spied the young man opening the front of his trousers.
I immediately lost my train of thought and stumbled over my words. I saw the young man cover himself at once and turn to look at me — just like the rest of the people on the pews. It took me a moment to find my words but I continued the sermon roughly where I left off. A moment after that I could see the man turn back away and reveal himself once again. I couldn't be certain but it seemed like he wasn't wearing underwear and the dark and the pale I could somewhat see were indeed his pubic hair and penis.
I do not know why I didn't say anything. Someone was masturbating in my church — during mass no less! — and I had said nothing. Was I this needy for more people to come to church? So needy that I didn't care if sin — and if anything was sin, then this — was committed right under my eyes? Still, I continued my sermon as best I could.
I started looking at my notes more often. Partly it was because the distraction making it hard to remember and partly because of the morbid curiosity to see the very thing distracting me. With no-one sitting close to the man and rows of pews protecting him from all other sides, he was freely stroking himself, with his hand moving at slow, savouring pace on his fully erect member. Only I from above had a line of sight to him and the only thing the rest of the congregation could see was my flushed face, which I desperately tried not to have reveal that anything was wrong, like I was somehow paralysed by shock.
I decided to skim over most of the well-thought out rhetoric of my sermon to speed my way to the prayer at the end. With my eyes turned down, I could look at the man uninterrupted and nearly unhindered. He had not joined the prayer but instead his hand was moving faster now. It was clear that he knew I would soon turn around to come down from the pulpit and he was trying to reach his climax before that. As I recited the words of our prayer to God, I noticed myself to be curious of seeing him climax, to see the finale of this secret he thought only he knew. Was this the reason he had started coming to my church? I could have told myself it was simply a morbid curiosity that drove me but under my robes I could feel warmth emanating from between my legs and my increasing moistness. It seemed that I was becoming an unexpected accomplice in the young man's sin.
However, he didn't have a chance to finish, and as I was getting to my "amen", I saw him quickly cover himself. He couldn't have done a good job of it in his state, and as I descended the pulpit steps, I could clearly see the outlines of his erection through his trousers. His flushed face, however, lost its colour as he noticed I was looking down on him from the stairs.
There were still a few hymns left. While at the front near the altar, I could not help myself from glancing at the young man quite frequently. I wondered if he would continue now that I couldn't see most of him over the pews, but I had to doubt that. He looked mortified and embarrassed at the same time, and quite a few times our eyes met although each time he immediately looked elsewhere, down at his feet most often. I think that I should have felt glad that he had stopped and felt ashamed as he should. However, in truth I was slightly disappointed. I would have wanted to let him continue and for myself to continue to be privy to his secret. Under my robes, my body had started to turn from hot and wet to dull and needy for re-ignition.
I would have to talk with him. It was my duty as the priest of this community. And I wanted to know why he had done it, why here. When the last hymn was over, I stepped toward him almost before telling my congregation to go in peace and with God. He didn't really have a chance to get away and was still trying to get out from between the pews when I blocked his path. I don't think I had ever seen someone so terrified.
"Hello", I said trying to keep my voice calm so as to not reveal that anything was amiss to the other people leaving the church. "Could I speak with you for a moment?"
It seemed like all the blood had disappeared from his face, and after a small moment looking for escape routes, his grey eyes lost any sign of hope as well. I felt bad looking at how I had affected him but I knew I should stay firm and do my duty. But he nodded and I lead him past the altar to the sacristy. It was just a small room with the church's robes and other ritual items in addition to a desk, on which I could do my paperwork. It also had a few chairs, one of which I motioned the young man to sit on. After removing my stole and robes behind a screen, leaving only my more normal black trousers and jacket with a clerical collar, I sat down to another chair. I decided not to take the one behind my desk, hoping to seem a bit more approachable.
"I think you know why I asked you here", I started with a kindly voice. When the boy didn't answer and continued simply staring at his knees, I continued: "Can you tell me your name?"
After a moment of hesitation, he managed to mumble: "Adam."
"Well Adam, I'm not angry with you", my words reminded me vividly how my body had in fact reacted. "I just want to know why you did it."
He shrugged and refused to meet my eyes. His silence gave me time to look at him better. I estimated him to be nineteen, twenty at most. It was hard to say what he was like normally, but I doubted he had been caught before. Maybe he hadn't even tried before.
"Adam", I began again and reached to touch his knee to comfort him. "You can tell me anything and it will not leave this room. Through Jesus, God forgives our sins."
He flinched at my touch, and I pulled away slowly. Like trying not to scare a deer. However, he managed to mumble out: "I like it. In public, kinda." He quickly added: "But so no-one really sees."
"But God did see", I reminded him, "as did I."
The colour returned to his face, turning it scarlet. "Can I still come to sermons? I want to listen to them too."
