TWD - Chapter 568: The Priest’s Sermon (Patreon)

When Gabriel announced he would be giving a sermon, Carver was busy gulping down a bowl of stew.

He nearly spat a mouthful across the table. “A sermon? Are we going to start pulling the same nonsense as The Pope?”

Across from him, Mike kept his eyes on his porridge, scooping it up with the blank expression of a machine programmed to eat.

Carver wiped his mouth and leaned closer. “Mike, remember what Gabriel was like when he first arrived?”

Mike did not answer, but Carver knew he remembered.

Back at the prison, Gabriel had taken moral pride in being a priest. Then Greg deceived him, and his conviction that he could save lost souls nearly ended with his throat being slit and his blood drained.

The ordeal shattered his convictions. By the time he reached Rock Fortress, he was timid and jumpy, like a groundhog startled out of its burrow.

Only Mike’s punishing boot camp had finally toughened him up.

And now he was going back to his old line of work?

Carver shook his head in disbelief. “Think he got a taste of what The Pope had going and decided there was something to this God business? He was doing fine as a soldier, and now he wants to be a priest again?”

Mike finished his porridge and set the bowl down with a clack. “People change. If you’re curious, go and see for yourself.”

Carver leaned in again. “You really think anyone’s going to sit through his preaching?”

Mike merely nodded toward the cafeteria entrance. Carver followed his gaze and saw Victor slowly making his way outside. A chest brace held his still-healing fracture in place, and his face showed both anticipation and nerves.

Carver clicked his tongue. “Well, that idiot will be first in line.”

Then he glanced at Mike. “What about you? Going?”

Mike got up and straightened his shirt. “I’ll take a look.”

Carver grinned. “Then count me in. Might as well see what all the fuss is about!”

Gabriel had scheduled the sermon for Sunday afternoon in the middle of the industrial park’s main square.

He hauled a table into place to serve as a pulpit, spread a white cloth over it, and set out a Bible, a cross, and a kerosene lamp.

Carver took one look as he passed and nearly laughed aloud. “Gabriel, this is like the bargain-basement version of a country church!”

Gabriel ignored him and concentrated on adjusting the lamp’s wick.

Carver came closer. “You sure anyone’s coming? Be embarrassing if you’re up there all by yourself.”

Gabriel finally looked up and met his gaze. “Carver, will you come?”

Carver blinked. “Me?”

“Yes. Will you?”

Carver shrugged. “I’ve got nothing better to do. I’ll stop by so you won’t have to stand there with no audience.”

Gabriel smiled. “Then that’s enough.”

For a moment, Carver hardly recognized him. Was this really the same skinny, frightened priest from before?

He still wore his black cassock, but everything else had changed. He stood straight, his eyes were bright, and there was none of his old timidity left.

Mike’s words came back to Carver. People change.

He clicked his tongue again. “Fine. I’ll be here this afternoon to watch the show.”

Then he wandered off.

Gabriel quietly went back to adjusting the lamp.

That Sunday afternoon, a few dozen people gathered loosely in the square. Most were off duty and looking for something to do. Others were simply curious.

Carver stood in a corner beside Mike, who had his arms folded.

Mika, Samuel, Malcolm, and other former Reapers were there. Victor pushed his way to the very front. His injuries were still healing, and the bruises had not faded from his face, but his eyes were bright.

Gabriel stepped up to the makeshift pulpit in his black cassock, a silver cross hanging at his chest. The afternoon sun warmed the dark cloth.

He opened the Bible to a page he had marked, looked out at the crowd, and said, “Today I want to talk about being alive.”

The crowd looked baffled.

Being alive?

That was a pretty ordinary way to start a sermon.

Gabriel spoke calmly, almost as though telling someone else’s story. “Before the apocalypse, I preached at church every day. Love, redemption, heaven. I thought that was faith.

“Then the world fell apart, and I locked myself inside my church. I don’t know how many days I stayed there. There were walkers outside, and inside there was only me and a Bible.

“Every day I prayed. I begged the Lord to save me, to make the walkers disappear, to let me live.”

He looked around the crowd, his voice quiet but cutting. “The Lord didn’t come.”

The square fell silent.

Gabriel continued, “Instead, a few living people came. They broke open the church door and pulled me out.”

He pointed toward Calista’s office. “The people of Rock Fortress taught me that praying is fine, but first you have to survive.

“How do you survive?

“You farm. Build walls. Kill walkers. Protect the people around you.

“That’s when I understood. The Lord didn’t come to save us Himself. He sent people in His place.”

Several people nodded, picturing the scene.

They imagined a terrified priest dragged from his church and told to focus on staying alive before worrying about faith.

He had survived that way, all the way to the man standing before them now.

There was something miraculous about it.

Gabriel closed the Bible and spoke slowly. “Scripture tells us, ‘Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.’

“I didn’t understand that before. Now I do.

“Bearing each other’s burdens means that when you’re in trouble, I help you. When I’m in trouble, you help me. That’s survival. That’s faith.”

Gabriel spoke for more than an hour.

He wove together stories from the Bible, his own experiences, and everyday life at Rock Fortress until the crowd was deeply moved.

As he drew to a close, he suddenly changed direction. “Do you know why we’ve survived this long?”

The crowd shook their heads.

Gabriel pointed toward Calista’s office building and raised his voice.

“Because of that person.

“Because of her, we have defensive walls, water, electricity, food, medicine, and hope.

“The Lord didn’t come Himself. He sent someone!

“She was chosen by the Lord! She is our Chaos!”

The square fell silent for a beat.

Then someone roared, “Amen!”

It was Victor, beside himself with excitement.

More voices joined in. “Amen!”

The calls swelled until they seemed to shake the air.

Gabriel raised a hand and the crowd fell quiet at once. He looked at them all and spoke each word clearly.

“We aren’t waiting for a savior to rescue us from the walkers. We’re following her, and together we’re building the future!”

When the sermon ended, the crowd slowly dispersed.

Gabriel stood beside the table, tidying it away. The setting sun wrapped him in golden light, and for a moment he stood with the Bible in his hands, as still as a figure in a painting.

Carver and Mike watched from a distance.

Carver shook his head in amazement. “Gabriel really has changed. But who’s Chaos supposed to be?”

Mike shrugged. “Chaos is a creator deity from Greek mythology...

“Victor, Samuel, and the others were probably the first to start calling her that.

“They suffered terribly before they came here. Compared to what their lives were like then, living here feels like a miracle in the apocalypse.”

Carver sighed. “So they need some way to explain the miracle. Even knowing we use walker attractants and disruptors, they still believe Calista is the Chosen One, huh?”

“Yeah.”