The children stopped playing at flopping and fainting, and they watched quietly, eyes wide open. The whole tent had gone from boisterous to silent. In the silence, the gaunt preacher’s voice seemed to echo back from the canvas walls.
“Faith is not some small thing we do once a week,” he said. “We must hold faith inside of us all times. With faith, there is no danger, for there is no door through which Satan can enter. Close your hearts against evil, and open them to the Lord!”
Voices whispered throughout the crowd as the largest rattlesnake nosed its way up the preacher’s neck and cheek, its forked tongue tasting his ear.
“We have no need to fear,” he continued. “God has already vanquished the devil, and He will do it again, and there will be a final Judgment. If the Lord chooses to take us today, or ten years from now, or a hundred years from now, it’s all the same...we’re all going to face Him, we’re all going to answer for our sins...and there will be a reckoning!” He thrust a fist into the air to make his point, startling the rattlesnake, which drew back and opened its jaw, poised to bite his face.
The preacher fell still and quiet, looking right back into the snake’s eyes.
“Go ahead,” he said in a loud stage whisper. “Go ahead and try, Satan. God is with me. I’m filled with the Spirit and the light.”
The entire audience stayed silent. After a minute, the rattlesnake relaxed and turned away, crawling back down his arm. The preacher resumed his sermon, while his three acolytes walked to different areas of the stage, letting the audience see the snakes in their hands.
He spoke on and on, like the previous preacher. As he wrapped up, the three men returned their snakes to the basket and picked up buckets on long rods. They held these out to the audience, collecting coins and cash from the stunned crowd.
The next preacher was a different sort. He wore an odd pastel-colored suit, and his dark, curly head of hair looked like a wig to Juliana, because it didn’t quite match his handlebar mustache. He was followed by a chorus of three young women wearing high-neck dresses and no makeup, who stood together at one corner of the stage. Behind him, a black man in a green snap-brim hat and matching suit took over the piano.
The preacher walked to stage center, looking around, apprising the crowd, with the automatic bright smile of an experienced showman.
“I hope this is him,” the woman from the wagon said. “I’m exhausted.” Night had fallen, and the rain hadn’t let up, so the tent remained crowded and humid. Everyone was sweating. Juliana worried that her sweat might fall on somebody, like one of the two children who insisted on staying close to their pet carnival girl. She didn’t know whether her sweat could harm anyone, and she certainly didn’t want to find out the hard way.
“He don’t look no healer to me,” commented the woman’s husband, Henry.
“I’m sleepy,” their little girl complained.
“I want to play with snakes!” the older boy announced.
“Ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters, let us pray,” the preacher finally said. Nobody was going to argue with that, so everyone lowered their heads and closed their eyes, and many grasped the hands of the people around them. The little girl, Izzy May, grasped Juliana’s gloved hand and wouldn’t let go, which made Juliana edgy and nervous.
“...as Your wonders are limitless, oh Lord, we beseech you to bless this humble house of worship with Your grace today. As Your Son healed the blind and the sick, we ask that You pour Your love upon our brothers and sisters here, those who are in need, those are ill, those who live in pain...”
Juliana opened her eyes and looked up. Maybe this was the healing preacher, after all. If so, he didn’t inspire much confidence.
“Amen,” the preacher eventually said, and many people echoed him. “Children of the Lord, we have been called together for a great purpose today,” he began. “And that purpose is to recognize the Lord’s place in our lives...” As he spoke, the piano player went to work, providing a backdrop of fast, punchy notes that helped rouse the crowd as the preacher continued. Soon the preacher was keyed up, racing around the stage. “...and when trouble arrives, what do we say? We say oh, precious Lord, take my hand!”
This was the cue for the three women to sing the hymn ‘Oh, Precious Lord, Take My Hand,’ a hymn which a lot of the crowd seemed to know, because they sang along. The piano player immediately switched from his jazzy melody to a deeper gospel sound.
When the song ended, the preacher resumed strutting up and down the stage, talking up the healing powers of God and recalling the stories about Jesus and the lepers. He grew more and more animated, slapping his hands together and stomping his foot for emphasis.