Jeremy Fink and the Meaning of Life Read online

  “Sleeping,” I reply.

  “Or at church.”

  I shrug. “I guess.”

  “Maybe we should go.”

  I stop walking. “To church?”

  Lizzy points to an old wooden building right on the edge of the beach. THE ATLANTIC CITY SPIRITUALIST CHURCH. ALL ARE WELCOME. SERVICES BEGIN AT 9:30.

  “We’re right on time,” she says, pulling me toward the building. From the looks of it, the church was probably once a T-shirt shop!

  I pull back. “Are you serious? I can’t go in there!”

  “Why not?”

  “For one thing, I’m part Jewish. We don’t do churches.”

  “All are welcome,” Lizzy says, tapping the sign with her finger. “That means you, too.”

  “Why do you want to go so badly?” I ask, suspicious. “Something to atone for?”

  “Very funny. I just want to try it. Learning all that stuff about the universe has made me curious, that’s all. What’s the worst that could possibly happen?”

  “I don’t know. They could chase us out with pitchforks and torches.”

  Behind us a woman says, “We got rid of the pitchforks years ago, didn’t we, Henry?”

  “We sure did,” a man’s voice replies. “Except for that one time. But that guy really deserved it.”

  Cringing, I slowly turn around. An elderly couple is standing a few feet away, holding hands and grinning.

  “Sorry about my friend,” Lizzy says, approaching them. “He doesn’t get out much.”

  “No worries,” the woman says. “We didn’t mean to make fun. We’re a wacky bunch. If you’d like to give the service a try, please don’t feel shy. You can sit in the back so you won’t feel awkward about leaving in the middle.”

  “What do you say?” Lizzy asks.

  Her expression is so hopeful, how can I say no? “All right.” I thrust my hands into my short’s pockets. “But you have to promise to leave if I ask you to.”

  “I promise,” Lizzy says, pulling me toward the open door. As soon as I step through the threshold I relax a little. It really doesn’t seem too threatening. Long windows in the back face the wide beach with the ocean behind it. About twenty rows of folding chairs are set up in front of a small stage. Maybe fifteen people are already sitting down. I don’t see any crosses, or anything really religious at all. Then out of nowhere, a woman in a flowing white dress places a bible in my hand. I look up in surprise, but she’s already moved on to the next person.

  “How come she didn’t give you one?” I ask Lizzy when I see she’s empty-handed.

  “She said we’re supposed to share,” she says, pointing to two seats in the back row. “Come on, let’s go sit down.”

  I follow, in a bit of a daze. “When did she say that?”

  Lizzy rolls her eyes. “Right before she handed it to you.”

  I shake my head and sit in one of the hard plastic chairs. The seats are starting to fill up with people from all walks of life. Some in dresses and suits, one guy in tattered pants without any shoes, a surfer complete with surfboard, and a few Goth teenagers. Everyone says hello to each other like they’re old friends. A few smile at us, and we smile back like we do this all the time. I open the Bible, and am surprised to find it isn’t a bible at all. It’s a songbook!

  I turn to Lizzy. “What kind of church is this?”

  She shrugs. “Beats me.”

  I slide down in my chair. A few minutes later, the minister, or whoever he is, instructs us all to stand and to open to page three in the book. I expect to find a religious hymnal, but instead page three is the lyrics for “The Wind Beneath My Wings.” I do a double-take, and then tilt the page so Lizzy can see it. Mom is a big Bette Midler fan, and I’ve had to sit through the movie Beaches more times than any boy should ever be subjected to.

  Lizzy giggles and whispers, “Did I ever tell you you’re my hero?”

  I reply with the next line, “You’re everything, everything, I wish I could be.”

  “Really?” she says, looking up from the page.

  I mouth No and shake my head.

  As the whole congregation sings about flying higher than an eagle, I actually feel moved. Hearing the song sung by this big group in this church on a beach is really uplifting. No one would guess that thirty feet away, people are playing blackjack and slots while extra oxygen is being pumped through the vents to keep the gamblers from getting tired.

  Maybe this is why people go to church. For a sense of belonging, of escaping the everyday routine where people don’t generally burst into group song. I’ve only been here ten minutes, and I feel it already. I also feel Lizzy tugging at my shirt. It takes only a second to realize I’m the only one still standing. I hurriedly sit down.

  The minister begins talking. He welcomes all the old faces and the new ones. Then he says, “Mankind is the eye through which the spirit of God views his or her creation. Let us today, on this beautiful Sunday morning, be vessels through which we can see the infinite. For there rests our true natures. We are spiritual beings having an earthly life. When our life here is done, we return to the source. What is life? Life is love. Do not make the mistake of thinking loving is easy; it is not. We must love ourselves, not just other people. We must be awake. Do not sleepwalk through your life. Enjoy it fully, because none of us gets out of here alive.”

  People laugh a bit at the last part. Lizzy leans over and whispers, “Wow, that was deep.”

  I nod. I’m thinking about what he said about returning to the source. Is that where my father is now? In the source? Just as I’d never really thought about the meaning of life before all this, I’d never really thought about what happens to you after you die. Even when Lizzy made me do that séance last week, I didn’t really think about it. Do we really get reincarnated like Rick said? Are Heaven and Hell real, and not just something they scare you with in Sunday school? Or is the end just the end, like a blank screen, over and out, thanks for the ride? I bet the meaning of death is tied to the meaning of life. This is something I really should have considered sooner.

  The minister guy is still talking. “Now is the time for healing. Anyone who would like to participate, please take a seat in the row of chairs on your left. Our healers tap into the life force of the universe. They can help anyone who is in physical, mental, or emotional distress. They are waiting to help you.” He points to a group of about ten chairs set apart from the others. Each chair has a man or a woman standing behind it. People are starting to get up from the audience to make their way over to them.

  I watch as the chairs fill up one by one. I turn to Lizzy to see what she thinks of all this, but to my utter disbelief, she’s not in her seat! Did the healing stuff push her over the edge, and she left without telling me? I look around wildly, and finally spot her in the last place I had thought to look—in one of the chairs in front of a healer-woman. My mouth falls open. The healer looks around sixty, with gray and brown hair hanging all the way to her waist. She has her hands on Lizzy’s shoulders and is whispering something in her ear. Lizzy’s eyes are closed, her hands folded in her lap. I blink twice to make sure I’m not seeing things.

  In a minute, the woman moves her hands from Lizzy’s shoulders to the top of her head, and then back to her shoulders. Up and down the row, the healers are doing the same things. Some have their eyes closed, too. A line of people are waiting for their turn. One by one, someone gets up from a chair, thanks the healer, and another person takes the seat. I am dying to know what Lizzy is feeling up there. Not to mention why she went in the first place! Trying not to make any noise, I carefully unwrap the corner of one of my peanut butter sandwiches and nibble on it while I watch, fascinated.

  Finally it’s Lizzy’s turn to open her eyes and thank her healer. She quickly makes her way back through the rows of seats until she reaches me. “Come on,” she says, grabbing my arm and causing me to drop my sandwich. Luckily it is still mostly wrapped. I bend down to pick it up from the floor.