​My name is Ethan, and I am writing this short story as was instructed. Its intent is to make you pause, think deeply, and respond according to how you feel you should. This is my account of what happened on one summer afternoon, during a vigil mass.
 
It was Saturday afternoon, about two hours before I was to attend the Saturday afternoon vigil Mass at St. Luke’s Church and I was watching the local weather. They were predicting thunderstorms to pass through our area shortly. Many attend the late afternoon vigil Mass so they can sleep in on Sunday and I was one of them.
 
I was a member of the Church’s Knights of Columbus, and we had planned a dinner to be served after the Mass. I drove to the church’s social hall an hour before to offer any help they may need.
 
When I entered the kitchen, I was greeted by many of the other Knights who were there helping to prepare the dinner. I shook each of their hands and offered to help in any way I could. They said they had everything handled, so I just hung out for a while and shot the breeze with the guys. I then wandered through the social hall and talked with some of the fellow parishioners who were also waiting for the Mass to start. 
 
Many of the people helping or intermingling before Mass hold one volunteer position or another and are involved. They help in many different ways and contribute their time and talent.
 
But, as active or helpful as they may be in the church, many will be more than happy to talk about others when they’re not in hearing range. Gossip and innuendo are common. Little circles, clicks, and pecking order are common. Of course, you don’t see this until you get involved, and the more involved you get, the more you see and hear.
 
At one point, I was an officer for our Knights of Columbus Council, and couldn’t believe what was being said about others in our officers' meeting. “These were Christians?” I thought. But the cursing, dirty jokes, penchant for power, and deceitfulness were far more than I ever expected. Heck, even our bishop lives in a gated community. Is that what Jesus would have done or lived in? Where was the humility and kindness that is taught in our readings and homilies? I left my position, and the Knights for a while then came back, but not as an officer, just to help out.
 
As I headed from the social hall to the Church, I passed by so many “holier than thou” parishioners. All smiling and hugging and kissing each other, as if they were all best friends. I entered the church from the rear entrance and found a seat near the middle of the church. Some already sitting inside were praying on their Rosary or kneeling and praying. Some were reading the bulletin or on their phone. Many were talking to each other.
 
When Mass started, we began singing, and the altar servers and the visiting priest walked down toward the altar from the rear of the church. Even as the priest was already starting the Mass, parishioners kept coming in late, making noise and making other parishioners move down so they could sit on the end of the pew.

As Mass continued on to the start of the readings, the incoming afternoon summer thunderstorm that was predicted was now on top of us. I just thought how fortunate the timing was to be inside now instead of this storm coming before or after mass.
 
As the first and second readings from the bible were being read, the storm was in full effect. Thunder would crack so loud that I would jump in my seat. The whole church would shake from the intense booms.
 
The Priest, Fr. Gill, was visiting from Argentina, (and spoke excellent English), started reading the Gospel about the leper and how the town shunned him because he had this terrible disease. But Jesus shamed them for not accepting the leper. Jesus healed the man, and he was thankful, and he decided to follow Jesus and help spread the word of God.
 
Once done, Fr. Gill, started his homily (lecture). By now, the storm had gotten even worse. So much so, that the electricity would flicker on and off quickly and I could hear the wind start to pick up.
 
Fr. Gill started his homily by talking about being a hypocrite, and although one may not denounce someone to their face, will do so behind their back to others. As he went on, his voice started to rise in volume. People started to take a bit more notice, and a few straightened up in their seats to listen and pay more attention.
 
But at least ten to fifteen percent of the parishioners didn’t care about anything the priest was talking about. They were reading the bulletin, talking to each other, looking at their watch, or staring at the ceiling due to the storm. Ten minutes into his homily, the wind outside started to become much stronger. I could start to hear some objects get thrown around outside, hitting the roof and doors. The rain was torrential, and the thunder and lightning were non-stop.  I was personally starting to think we would lose power or maybe have a tornado in the area.
 
The priest went on and on, telling those in attendance, that they too were hypocrites, and have committed serious sins, and needed to be held accountable for their actions.
 
“Who among you has been guilty of one or more of these misdeeds!?” He asked in a loud, booming voice.
 
Then, in a surprising move, Fr. Gill walked into the congregation with his microphone and walked up to one of the most popular parishioners in the church.
 
“Patrick, why have you lied to all these people?”
 
Patrick couldn’t believe it. A gasp was heard from many around the church, even over the thunderous rain. “What was this?” I thought. “A visiting priest. How did he know Patrick’s name?”
 
Immediately, everyone was now paying attention.
 
Patrick didn’t know what to say. He just sat there and stared at the priest, in shock.
 
“Patrick, I’m waiting! Why have you lied to all these people?”
 
With wind gusts blowing at least 50 m.p.h. and the lights flickering on and off, Patrick said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
 
“Tell them what great lies you have used to portray yourself as a great person of faith. Tell them your desires and passions and what you do behind closed doors, Patrick! Tell them!"
 
Patrick stood up and said, “You must be mistaken, Father. I have done nothing wrong!”
 
“Well then," Fr. Gill replied as he walked up close to his face, "you shall not see your path forward tonight, because you are blinded by your own ego!”
 
Then Fr. Gill turned his attention to another very popular parishioner a few pews away.
 
“Bobby, can you tell me why you have betrayed these great people?” He asked.
 
Again, silence. Who could answer and why? Who was this priest and how did he know these things? He didn’t personally know anyone here, especially their pasts. And no one could leave because the storm outside was so intense and getting even worse. We were trapped, and this priest seemingly knew too much.
 
“Bobby!!” Fr. Gill yelled at the top of his lungs, “What have you done to be ashamed of? Let these great people know; you profess to be of great stature and esteem. Tell them who you slept with the other night other than your wife!?”
 
Bobby looked at his wife next to him, and her eyes and face were in shock.
 
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he said to her.
 
His wife started breaking down and crying. I could hear people start talking and mumbling. Were they pointing fingers or afraid of what was next?
 
Then Fr. Gill yelled out, “Susan! My dear Susan! You have much to share, don’t you?”
 
He repeated himself as he walked over to the other side of the church and halfway down the aisle.
 
“Susan, you have become richer because you have taken what is not yours. You have betrayed those you work for, and soon they will know.”
 
With the storm at an incredible intensity and no one knowing what was next or what to expect, everyone just sat in fear. Petrified.
 
All of this phoniness, this fake façade so many parishioners have was no longer there. This priest has come in and reached into each of our souls. Who would he call on next?
 
He started to walk toward the front of the Church and said, “I see those who come in late. I see you reading the bulletin during the Mass. I see you talking when you should be listening."
 
He stopped and asked one man to stand up. “Look at what you’re wearing. Jeans and tennis shoes, and a t-shirt. Was it a bother for you to get dressed appropriately? Was this an inconvenience? Were you just at a bar or hanging out at the mall and decided to come to Church?”
 
“Look at your family. Your teen daughter has flip flops on?”
 
​He then walked all the way toward the front and stepped onto the altar. He turned to face the congregation and said, “All of you are sinners! All of you have secrets that need to be revealed. But for those of you who have confessed and tried to do right, you are a true Christian. Those of you who wish to hide your misdeeds, and act as if you’re above humility, you are the deceivers. You have betrayed those around you. Feel shame now and forever until you redeem yourself to the One!”
 
Just then, the wind started blowing so hard that the windows started breaking from flying objects and parishioners began crying and yelling because they were so scared.
 
Fr. Gill yelled as loud as he could, “Those who believe in eternal salvation, come to the altar and step into the storm to be saved!”
 
Who would stand? We were afraid of the storm. A thunderous freight train sound started to be heard. Hail pelted the roof and windows,
 
The lights were flickering but stayed off more than on. You could hear parishioners screaming for help and others running around trying to figure out what to do.
 
There was debris being blown around the Church. I could see a few people that were bleeding from the cuts they received from the broken glass.
 
As the freight train rumble came closer and closer, Fr. Gill screamed, “I say to you once again, if you believe in the Lord and wish to be saved, step onto the altar and into the storm!”
 
I never considered myself a hard-core Christian, but I just stood up and started walking toward the altar. About ten others did too. The freight trains sound was almost on top of us. I turned and looked at the rest of the congregation and couldn’t believe how many just sat there or stood there. They looked at us like we were crazy.
 
Then Fr. Gill turned off his microphone and said to follow him. We walked to the side of the altar and toward the door. He opened the door, and the wind snapped it and flung it open wide! The rain and hail were howling and pelting everything.
 
Fr. Gill yelled, “Walk and be saved!”
 
I walked outside feeling blistered by the hail and just kept walking. The others were next to me and behind me. I walked toward a large tree and stood under it, then turned to face the Church.
 
The fierce lighting revealed a massive tornado starting to rip apart the Church. With each flash of light, you could see the Church getting smaller and smaller. The storm was so loud, you couldn’t hear anyone inside the Church scream, but knew they were.
 
“Oh my God!” One lady yelled. “They are all going to die!”
 
As we stood there and watched where we just were, the Church was shredded into pieces and sucked up into the mammoth funnel. Before the Church was completely gone, Fr. Gill turned toward us and yelled, “You have been rewarded for your faith! Now, spread the word of what you have just seen!”
 
And then. Just like that, everything stopped, and the storm went silent. The afternoon light started to come back out. As the light became brighter, we could see there was no more Church. No pews, no altar, no parishioners. We looked around for Fr. Gill, and we he was gone too! It was just the eleven of us, all unscathed.
 
Afterward, the police reports and news media attributed our survival to luck, or instinct, not faith. We seldom tell others about what happened. I was hospitalized for almost a year because no one truly believed me. They said I was religiously preoccupied and had suffered from a post-traumatic stress disorder.
 
I was fortunate enough to run into a missionary, who did believe my story and brought me to a safe place. He told me, “Someday, Ethan, they will hear your story, and some will believe you as I do.”
 
E.

​