A Liturgy of Lechery

ORDER OF SERVICE

PRELUDE

He was a brilliant choirmaster, organist, and pianist at the cathedral. An unsmiling man from England, twice my age. A devout and pious servant of the church.

PROCESSIONAL

He announced tryouts for an exciting, contemporary cantata with full orchestra. Many came forward to sing for him, but he needed more sopranos. I auditioned. He chose me.

OPENING PRAYER

Rehearsals were exhilarating. Moved by his musicianship, I asked to study piano with him. He said yes, if I met his exacting standards. I prayed my years of playing meant I’d be good enough for him.

THE GLORIA

Rejoice! He proclaimed I had immense talent … but needed work. He believed with his guidance, and his alone, I could become a truly gifted pianist.

FIRST LESSON

I practiced incessantly, hungry for his approval. He offered mostly criticism, doling out just enough praise to keep me hooked. He expressed concern that my Midwestern upbringing prevented me from playing Rachmaninoff and Brahms with the requisite passion. You’re too rigid, said the solemn Englishman. I practiced harder.

OFFERING

After telling me I needed to perform with more emotion, he offered to take me to New Orleans to introduce me to the city’s sultry magic, its soulful music, the scent of jasmine. He promised it would loosen me up, help me play better. He’d pay. No strings attached.

HYMN #167: I WILL TRUST THEE

I was unsure about his invitation, but he seemed so respectable, so religious. Plus, several choir members had whispered that he had no interest in women. I had nothing to fear.

THE GATHERING

He picked me up in a shiny Porsche convertible, wearing tight black jeans and a gold chain. It was unsettling. He looked so different. Driving 100 mph on the highway, it took less than two hours to travel the 200 miles to New Orleans. I was terrified and pleaded with him repeatedly to slow down. He rolled his eyes and told me to lighten up.

ANTHEM

I expected Bach. Yet, his car stereo blasted hard-edged rock the whole way.

SECOND LESSON

When we arrived in the French Quarter, he whipped into a parking space outside a seedy oyster bar: music blaring, tires screeching, me flinching. He laughed and said I really needed to relax. Inside, he ordered two dozen oysters, showing me how to suck them down with hot sauce and crackers. He leaned forward and softly said they were good for the libido. I began to feel uneasy.

LITANY OF THE TABLE

That evening we dined at Galatoire’s on Bourbon Street. It was so elegant, all gold and mirrors and crystal. I partook of the wine and bread he offered, and the French Creole cuisine was exquisite, like nothing I had ever eaten. He put his hand on my thigh. I brushed it away.

SCRIPTURE: MATTHEW 7:15

Beware of those who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravening wolves.

THIRD LESSON

He told me he’d reserved two rooms, but when we arrived at the hotel, only one was available. A mix-up, he said. Once in the room, he offered me more wine. I declined. He asked me to undress. I declined. He said he had paid for everything and expected me to be appreciative. I reminded him he’d said no strings. In a low, angry voice, he said I was either very naïve or very stupid.

EXHORTATION

I took a deep breath and said if he put his hands on me, I would go to the bishop, the vestry, and anyone else at the cathedral who would listen, and tell them he’d assaulted me. He narrowed his eyes. Suit yourself. He lay down on the bed, fully clothed, and fell asleep.

CONFESSION

I had been a fool.

RECESSIONAL

I stayed awake all night. In the morning, he declared the weekend ruined and we drove the 200 miles back, even faster this time. In silence.

DISMISSAL

I said I would not be taking piano lessons any longer. Fine with me, he said. You have no talent anyway. A waste of my time.

And you, I shouted as I slammed the door of his precious Porsche, are a sleazy waste of mine. He sped off. I wept with relief. Then shame.

Sorrow periodically resurfaced, flooding me with regret that I’d trusted him. I wondered if I should have told someone. But, I wanted only to forget. And so I tucked this story away.

BENEDICTION

Shame only survives in silence. Today, let shame and judgment move into the light, the light of spoken words, of hope and healing. Freed from darkness, shame no longer has any power. Go now in peace, with an abundance of self-forgiveness and wisdom.

AND THE PEOPLE SAID AMEN.