The Coat
Robert Rice
I stumbled upon the book quite by accident. It's battered cover and tattered pages and personal notes told of the love it's former owner held for it. He was long since gone and now it had fallen on the hardest times for a book, an estate sale. I took the chance spent my dollar and took it home. It seemed the most unassuming of books King James Version published in 1904 but it had character. It's leather cover was a classic. The gold leaf was unique. I opened it's pages on occasion read of things I did not understand, but I was compelled to read it just the same. So I did . It was a strange world within it's pages. A world I had not considered or concerned myself with. So on nights when nothing else grabbed my interest I would read the thing with a pint or two of ale. I sat and pondered could all this be ? Perhaps so perhaps not but interesting all the same.
On a particularly cold and bitter day I chose to follow the book . I wondered could this be true? Let's give it the ultimate trial a personnel litmus test of sorts. So I followed the book. At first it seemed as though nothing had changed. The sun did shine the next day and perhaps in a small way it seemed a bit brighter. The road a bit clearer where it had been dull before. This strange book had a way of deceiving one into thinking something had happened or perhaps I had a strange way of deceiving myself that something had not. All the same I chose to follow the book.
I found the Church in an accidental way. I was heading for the market and made a wrong turn. There it was right on the sign. We follow THE BOOK ! That seemed like a place I should try as I had begun to find the book a source of wisdom I had never expected. Sadly I can say I even began to search the book for answers to things I did not understand . So a whole group that followed he book seemed like a place I should pay attention too. I copied the phone number down and called the following evening. The man who answered was very happy to hear from me. He invited me over for dinner. I accepted and we talked. It was agreed I would attend these services of his on Sunday.
So I went , the music droned on much to long and the speaker used but a few words from the book but somehow , someway it made my day seem a bit brighter. I was only mildly offended when I was called to the front and paraded around like a prize farm animal. Inspire of all that there was comfort when people said welcome to the family. It seemed strange that neither one of us actually knew each others names , but it was brighter to belong to something I decided. So I stayed.
I went back, again and again and again. The man's few words from the book kept my interest up. I wondered could all this be true ? It was interesting , yet painful. Occasionally a word, a phrase a sentence from the book would creep past all the music and noise and sting me in a place I did not like. It seemed to be part of the power of this book the more you understood the more you wanted. The more you wanted the more it pains you. A thoroughly strange setup if I do say so myself. So I continued my litmus test all the while becoming a different man. Things that once fascinated me lost their luster and the book began to fill their place.
One time the Man was talking about the lost souls in some far off land who needed our money so they could have the book and a man . I shocked myself and spoke up during his speech and ask "what about the people out in our street , don't they need the book too ? Plus they can come right here to meet the man !. We already had a man here and the book it was everywhere. It suddenly seemed obvious we should bring the book and the man out to the people of the street! It seemed too simple. Some people clapped but others stared as if I had sang off key. A cold breeze blew past me and I shivered naked against the wind.
So the man ask me over to dinner again. We ate and talked ! He explained in oh so long fashion about the district and it's policies and how I did not understand the politics of the whole thing. Which was true, I did not care much for politics and districts and understanding had just become a recent hobby. So it was agreed I would not speak up in the Church again and would bring any questions I had to the man. The Man would tell me how things really worked. Perhaps that was best. Maybe the book was harder to understand than I thought. The man was happy . My belly was full and I noticed it was getting a little cold outside and headed home.
It came again as it did every Sunday and I was there. As I was heading in I was stopped by a stranger a handsome fellow who ask me " Don't you think its time you get some protection from the cold" ? He was right , how he knew, I don't know, but the cold had ached my bones for some time now. So I agreed. Suddenly in a wing of the Church I had never seen before he led me to row after row of thick lush, head to toe coats. "We had one tailored just for you " he said. I looked upon the many names on the coat hooks. The names of young and old , deacon and visitor until I found my coat. I slipped it on and suddenly the ache was gone.
I walked into the service and saw for the first time that there were so many coats out there. How I had missed them I don't know but they were right there. Most of the congregation wore them while the man was talking. The people seemed contented to sit in their coats and relax while the man spoke. Safe and secure in their comfortable thick coats. Some of the coats seemed rather foul in appearance and odor but their owners seemed happy. What harm could their be in a warm comfortable coat to protect one from the cold ?
I was surprised to find how much I liked my coat. I missed it all week. Somehow I found comfort in its folds of fabric. The world seemed almost painful and cold without it. I was happy to find my coat back on it's hook come Sunday. How it got there I did not know but I liked it. The stranger the giver of the coat, I saw him in the crowd on occasion but never met him again face to face. Perhaps his job as coat man kept him too busy. Just the same I had wanted to thank him but I never got the chance.
I wore the coat every Sunday and noticed it protected me from more than just the occasional aches and colds. I found that people and words that I found uncomfortable just bounced off the coat. I now understood what the man meant when he talked about policies, and districts it all made sense to me. The risk of taking to the street was to high. Imagine if those outsiders suddenly appeared some Sunday. They would not understand and would cause a disturbance. The coat was more and more like the book after a while. The more I used it the more I appreciated it. It somehow changed my life.
On the third year with my coat I became a deacon. With my new found power I decided it was time to wear the coat full time . Night and Day rain or shine the coat was on. It became so much a part of me I became one with the Coat. When newcomers would talk on what the book said I sat comfortably in my coat. Their opinions interpretations and radical ideas along with words like me and my were replaced by them and theirs. Strange how after you are safe from aches and pains it becomes easier to talk about them and their problems. Life was comfortable. The coat began to show its wear and tear just a bit but I could not seem to remove it. It might be tattered and torn it might be a bit foul smelling but it was mine. With the coat the pain was dulled just enough . With my coat I was king. That in itself made it worth the cost. No more painful words, phrases or bits of radical interpretation from the book.
On my eighth year for the first time the coat let some pain seep in. I drew it tighter until the pain subsided. The holes and rips left gaps in my protection. When pulling the coat tighter I caught a bit of it's foul odor. It was becoming rather ripe. However when you consider the protection it provided it was obvious I could not give up my coat. With my protection I took on more power and responsibility in the church.. The man he knew about the coat. He owned one himself not as nice as mine but he owned one. Together we kept the things as they should be no pain no problems. Radicals were minimized and tranquillity was the norm . Times were good..
Quietly I began to find the company of my coat superior to all things. I did not mention this to others. The risk of honesty, friends , a family, the truth were all too painful. So I pulled my slightly moldy coat just a little tighter. The book now is retired, it sits as a charming antique of things gone by. The bookshelf holds it in a place of prominence so everyone who comes into my office can see I had it. If I ever tired of the coat I could always come back for the book.
On the fifteenth year my coat became offensive to some. They called it foul, insensitive, cold and bitter. I knew it was a small price to pay for the protection from the cold it had given to me over the years. The newcomers who followed the book called ME old fashioned and inflexible. It hurt to much so I decided it was time to leave the church. The book was just to much for my coat to handle on a weekly basis. The holes were many but the flesh beneath was weak
Now some years have passed and the coat is pressed to my body day and night. I have to cover it's many holes by shifting it often but it is worth it. The stench keeps most people away but it is still worth it. A stranger passed me on my way to the market today. He looked at me as I looked in the plate glass window. I could hardly recognized myself. The years had turned me into a weak old man . A man who without his coat would be lost. The stranger who passed me looked much like that handsome coat man in the church so many years ago. He smiled and snickered as a stared into what I had become. He snickered and I began to understand.
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