My name is Ted Ashton and I am twenty-six years old. I am assistant pastor at what some of our detractors have called the richest church in northern Virginia. We are that, of course, but I don't like to describe us that way.
It was a choice job offer that I got right after I received my Doctor of Theology degree. Unlike most assistant positions it paid well and I was looking forward to a good appointment in one of several churches in Virginia or North Carolina where several pastors were well into their sixties.
I had preached sermons by invitation in several of these churches and I thought some were looking me over seriously. In school, Homiletics was my best subject and I took pride in reaching my listeners with a simple, clear message that they understood, remembered, and took to heart.
There was a professor at Chapel Hill who gave a lot of talks about "The Historical Jesus" and every time one of my flock heard him I was faced with questions. I finally developed a sermon titled "The Historical Jesus in a Christian Context" which turned out to be the most popular sermon I had ever given, as well as a popular Sunday school lesson.
I was often asked to give that sermon. Unfortunately it was not popular with some of my friends who were theological scholars. The last time I was in Danville at a theological meeting I took a lot of good-natured kidding from them.
My pastor was Doctor Wade Jiles, from an old southern family. He had been a very successful minister and, like many pastors in our denomination he had received the DD degree, which was an honorary degree. This meant he was addressed as "Doctor."
For reasons lost in the mists of history, our denomination preferred to address their ministers as "Doctor" rather than "Reverend" or "Pastor" like the Lutherans. It was often said, and sometimes it was true, that if a congregation donated enough money to a seminary, their pastor would get a DD.
Dr. Jiles was past his middle fifties and his health was not good. There was talk of his moving to emeritus status. This would open a position for me and I had several enthusiastic supporters in our church.
Dr. Jiles wife, Pam, was a solid rock of support for him and, indeed, she was a key leader in our church. Her education had been in counseling, and she was consulted more often, even, than her husband by parishioners seeking advice. Their daughter, Chris was a senior at Charlottesville, majoring, like her mother, in psychology. She was destined to be a preacher's wife. I had dated Chris on numerous occasions and I think Dr. Jiles saw me as a prospective son-in-law. I agreed.
In short, I felt like I was knowledgeable and on top of things and in control and ready to advance in my chosen profession. Then my safe and cozy world collapsed all around me in an unlikely series of unbelievable events and I found myself in an impossible situation, as difficult to describe, as it is to imagine.
It all began in Dr. Jiles' study just off the sanctuary on a cloudy fall afternoon. Dr. Jiles sat me down in a big, soft leather chair where people consulting him always sat. He was at his desk and he began to speak in a solemn voice.
"Ted, there have been some developments in my medical condition. It's hard for me to discuss this because it is so very personal. Pam and I have talked about it night after night and we have finally reached what we think is a possible solution -- an unusual solution -- you may even think it bizarre. But it all depends upon you. I want you to have a talk with Pam about my condition and then you and I need to talk again."
It was a simple direct statement and when he completed it he rose from his chair and left the room, holding the door open for Pam who entered and sat down. When he was gone and the door was closed, Pam began to talk in the same solemn voice her husband had used.
"It's so painful, that Wade can hardly talk about it, even with me. On his annual physical exam, the blood test for his prostate was elevated. He had a biopsy and they found cancer. After a lot of talk and tests we decided to have surgery. We kept everything very quiet and went to Hopkins where the best guy in the field operates. But even the best guys aren't always perfect. The wrong nerves got cut and he became impotent."
Pam poured a glass of water from a pitcher on the desk and offered me a drink. I declined and she drank half the glass herself. I think she wanted time for me to absorb the gravity of what she had said. I remembered the "vacation" they took six months ago. I had preached a series of sermons on Job while he was gone.
Pam continued. "Our life became a living hell! We have always had a solid sexual relationship and he was frustrated with a desire he couldn't fulfill. I was just as frustrated as he was. And, although I tried to keep that a secret from him, I think he figured it out."
"Then last month his scans and blood tests showed that the tumor had spread. That's when his doctor tried to suppress his male hormones with a drug called leupro-something. I think it might have been leuprolide or leuproside. Anyway he had a very bad allergic reaction -- like a heart attack. They said he couldn't take that drug, or anything like it ever again."
She poured some more water and sipped some before asking me if I understood.
"Do you know what that means? What they have to do now?"
It sounded bad. "Do you mean? He might die?"
"No, not die. There's still a treatment that often controls prostate cancer. Do you know what I'm talking about?"
I shook my head no.
She said it harshly, head down looking at the desk.
"Castration! They're gonna castrate him! If he can't take that drug, that's the only way to shut off the male hormones that are making his cancer grow. "
I didn't know what to say. I sat in silence. Finally Pam looked up at me.
"They said, at least his desire for sex will go away."
