The Exorcism of Anna

Morrow lets his outstretched arm drop to his side. He raises his voice. When he speaks, his voice rings through the PA system is as if God is roaring at the world.

"Confess! Confess before your brothers and sisters! Have you strayed from the True Path, child? Have you been infected by immoral thoughts? Have you indulged in Sin? Answer!"

Every word hits Anna like a physical blow. He watches her quiver as a murmur rises up from the congregation.

"Silence!" He continues, dropping his voice now, changing his tone to one of reason. "Know this, Anna. God loves sinners. It is for sinners that Jesus died. There is no error in sinning, only in pretending one did not. To lie is another great sin. So, speak. Confess. That is the way to forgiveness." He pauses. "And redemption."

He spreads his arms again, looks skywards.

"Because, brothers and sisters, it is through redemption that we come to the Lord. So shout 'Amen'! Shout it thrice!"

"Amen! Amen! AMEN!"

Each shout is louder than the preceding one, the last setting the window glass shaking. Morrow waves them back to their seats, beckons for silence.

"Well?" he says, staring at Anna. "We are waiting, child."

Anna's stomach is in knots, as if it were the birthing place of vipers. Her hands are shaking, her palms slick. She places them beneath her breastbone, pressing against the turmoil within.

"Please, Reverend. Please. I can't bear the thought of disrespecting the Church." Her voice catches. She takes a breath, then another. "I have lost my way. I confess it. I have had immoral thoughts. But I seek forgiveness!" She falls to her knees, hands raised above her head. "Please! Forgive me! Please God, forgive me!"

The sound of a single gasp might not have been heard, but the combined volume of a hundred can not be ignored. "No!" and "Anna!" and "God save us!" rise up into the air like a flock of ravens.

Morrow shakes his head. "Hallelujah!" he says, softly. He has not intended to say it, nor for the word to be heard, but the PA system picks it up. He raises his voice.

"Hallelujah! She confesses. God is with us. She confesses. That is the first step towards redemption, child." He pauses. "But the road back to God is not smooth.

He raises his arm in the air, finger pointed at the ceiling. "For the Bible says:

It is impossible for those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, who have shared in the Holy Spirit, who have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the coming age and who have fallen away, to be brought back to repentance. To their loss, they are crucifying the Son of God all over again and subjecting him to public disgrace.''"

He let his arm drop to his side. "The Book of Hebrews, brothers and sisters. Chapter 6. As you well know. Those who sin crucify Christ yet again. It is as if they themselves, with their every wickedness, drive a nail into our Saviour as he lies, bleeding, on the Cross. We are at a new Golgotha." He nodded. "But it is good, Anna, that you confess. That, having hammered the iron spikes into the wrists and ankles of Christ, that you now drop the cruel implement. And fall to your knees at the foot of the One Cross."

He turns and steps down out of the pulpit. He walks to the edge of the stage and stands at the top of the steps that lead up from the aisle.

He nodded to Samuel, an Acolyte, one of those who assists Morrow. Samuel placed a mic stand and microphone in front of the Reverend. Morrow stared Anna in the eye, his gaze magnified by another two hundred. Had they been beams of sunlight, they might have melted her with their intensity.

Morrow spread his arms, mimicking Christ on the Cross.

"Come to me, child. Approach. Stand before me. Face your brethren. And make full your confession. Tell us your every sin, so that you may be saved."

Anna feels tears form. She reaches up to brush them away, but one escapes running down her cheek, dripping down onto her right foot, almost exactly at the point where a Roman soldier would have hammered a nail into the Saviour's foot. That was what the Reverend said she had done through her sin.

The shame courses through Anna as the man she had idolized throughout her life chastises her in front of the church. Anna knew now that all she had done had been born of resentment, resentment at her own narrow life compared to the limitless vistas of the Mainlanders. She had watered that weed, fed it with her disobedience. She had sheltered it from discovery. But now that weed was trampled underfoot. By the Foot of God. Perhaps this was part of His Plan, after all? Perhaps He intended her to be discovered, to be punished and so, to be saved? Now, despite the heaviness in her heart, she feels a sort of lightness, a shred of hope, a shard of gratitude.

Anna glances at her mother and mouths, "I'm sorry!" Seeing her mother in tears takes the strength out of her. She crashes to her knees.

The small voice in Anna's head is back. It hisses at her. "Confess! Confess your Sins! Confess them all! Return to The Way. It is your soul at stake! Your very life!"

Her cheeks redden as she realizes she must confess everything. That is the way. That is the only way.

Anna says a silent prayer, then rises to her feet. She wipes her sweaty palms on her skirt and walks up to Morrow, head bowed in submission. She could not bear to look him in the eyes, so low does she feel.

A line from Psalms 22 comes unbidden to her lips.

"But I am a worm, and no man. I am scorned and despised by all."

Morrow bends down, his ear close to her face. "What did you say, child? Come stand here. Say it before your brethren." He places a hand between her shoulder-blades and pushes her forwards. She stares at the microphone. Morrow raises his voice.

"Brethren! Silence! Young Anna wishes to address you. Go on, child."

She draws a breath. It is quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Her heart is rattling in her chest. She clears her throat and speaks.

"But I am a worm," she says,"and no man. I am scorned and despised by all." Her voice catches. She stops, fighting back tears.

"Hallelujah!" Morrow whispers. "Do you hear, brethren? Hallelujah! Repentance is at hand." He raises a hand to kill the noise. "Go on, child. Go on."

She composes herself. Her voice is stronger. She dares to raise her head to look out. Every eye is fixed on her.

"Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned. I can only prove I'm worthy of forgiveness through confession. I hope that with the Church's guidance, I can earn the forgiveness of everyone here as well."

She glances at her parents. Her mother nods at her, dabs her eyes, smiles. This gives Anna courage.

"I had received a phone, something I knew to be forbidden. Dressing immodestly, I took part in vanity. I looked at myself in mirrors. I had impure thoughts. I'm not proud of what I've done. I just wanted to fit in, but I made those choices, and I know I must pay the price."

Over Anna's shoulder, Morrow studies the faces of the congregation. Most are stunned into immobility. A couple of heads are shaking. More than a few have their eyes closed, their hands locked in prayer.

Marion Oates is sobbing again, her face clutched in her hands, bent over double so only the top of her head is visible. Her husband offers her no comfort. He sits as a judge, arms crossed, lips so firmly clenched that the colour has drained from them.

Morrow nods, then steps up to Anna so a bare inch separates his body from his. He places a hand on each of her shoulders. He feels her body quiver under his touch. Morrow leans forward and speaks into her ear, his voice amplified.

"Well done," he says softly. "It is well done, Anna. There is hope for you yet. This, this alone, might have been enough to redeem you. With this, we might, as a church family, excuse, permit you to go on with your life, believing in the Truth and the Power to wipe you clean of your sins. But forgiveness requires trust. Trust that you have been entirely truthful. Have you? Have you told the whole truth? Or do you still try to conceal? Is there something further you wish to confess to?"

He takes a half-step forward. The belt of his robes presses into the small of her back. He places a hand on each of her shoulders and pulls her backwards so that she leans against him. Her head falls back against his chest. He can smell her hair. Her buttocks fit snugly into his groin. Her flesh quivers against Morrow's. She feels soft, warm and wet with sweat. Morrow feels himself stiffen. Instead of drawing away, he presses further into her.

"Speak, Anna. This is your last chance. Have you anything else you wish to confess?"