Swain Hammond, the protagonist in Peggy Payne’s novel, Revelation, is a self centered jerk who could
never have been able to get through the process of being ordained in the
Presbyterian Church without lying several times along the way. He readily
admits having felt no call to ministry; he sees it as a job, and unfortunately,
the only job for which he has any training.
Sadly, he has found the perfect congregation for his
intellectual approach to talking about God. Most of the members we meet are
just as afraid of actually encountering God as Swain is. So what’s the problem?
Swain is starting to hear the voice of God. Worse than that, he starts
believing, even if only momentarily, that God actually works miracles, that
maybe prayers to heal a boy who has been blinded in an accident might work. In
Payne’s world, that is cause to consider getting rid of the pastor! Seriously?
Now I’ve been ordained for almost thirty years, and I have
known God’s frozen chosen—I’m an Episcopalian after all—and I’ve never seen a
congregation that would react to their pastor praying for healing as a sign the
pastor must be crazy. Then again, most pastors would likely be humbled by hearing
God’s voice. Not Swain; he just becomes even more insufferable. So maybe these
people deserve each other.
The emotionally abused wife, on the other hand, needed to
walk long ago. Swain is simultaneously so distant from her and so co-dependent
that you want to stage an intervention. And watch out if she gets pregnant; the
man hates children!
All of which is to say that, if this had been written as a
farce, I could have loved it. I know all these people. They are toxic church
killers. Put them all together in one place and the buildings would likely burn
down, especially in Chapel Hill, home of liberal mystics who could survive
anything short of speaking in tongues as long as one uses the correct
silverware. Painted a bit broadly, this could be a wonderful commentary on all
that is wrong with a certain kind of parish that actually does exist. As drama,
though, I found both Swain and his members unreal. And, frankly, after the
first one hundred pages, I just found him tiresome.
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