Mr. Gigon [1]
Peter Bichsel [2]
Translated by xia23
Amen. The women left the room. They coughed, arranged their scarfs, straightened their coats, waited at the end of the bench row for their neighbors, smiled at them, formed groups and whispered. Some of them had brought their husbands with them, who followed behind them and held their hats by the rims, ready to put them on. Mr. Gigon stood in front of the benches, the Bible in his folded hands, he nodded quietly to the open faces. His words sank back to him again.
He glanced over the empty benches, whose dark brown wood bore deep grooves from pocket knives of long-suffering candidate confirmations. He stood for a long time in front of the benches, they were comforting. Then he turned back to those who had stayed behind, answered their questions and thankful, squeezed their hands, looked into their eyes, thanked for their coming and then followed their eyes.
Now the room was green again, hopeless green with greasy oil paint, a lectern, the harmonium, the benches, the four evangelists [3] by Dürer [4], four windows that led steeply upward and also did not let much light in even during the day, a basement under the church, next door to the kitchenette for the mission bazzar and the benches, the dark brown benches with their grooves, their hearts, their names. And he sat down, covered his forehead, eyes and nose with one hand, caressed his face, sank in himself and said: Lord.
He felt his face and did not know if he was still praying. In his right hand he held the Bible, it lay lightly in his hand, almost slipping from him. With thumb and middle finger he felt the eyeballs under the eyelid, stroked the bridge of his nose, did not know if he was still praying and did not add an amen. Then, in between, he said “Lord” once more.
“Lord send me drunkards, send me prostitutes, thieves, that I might bring them to you”, was the prayer at the preacher school. Now his prayer is: “Lord”, and not one of his listeners was not more religious than him. He was there to tell them: “You are so religious, so religious as the religious.” He spoke into their rosy faces, into their parable-loving soul, he held the black book up to their eyes and cried: “Life is written in here”, and they nodded like model students and shone on their faces: “Yes, dear Mr. Gigon”.
And he answered their questions.
He looked at them and nodded.
He sat down.
Lord.
And he stood up, went to the lectern, open the offertory book, took a linen bag from a folder, emptied the content of the folder, put the bag and the Bible in his folder, grabbed it with both hands, remained standing, looked at the benches again and said something.
[1]. p. 38. Herr Gigon. Eigentlich möchte Frau Blum den Milchmann kennenlernen. Suhrkamp Verlag Frankfurt am Main, Walter-Verlag AG, Germany. 1996.
[2]. Peter Bichsel. 3/24/1935 - . Swiss writer and journalist. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_Bichsel
[3]. Four evangelists.
Here, this might be an error from Peter Bichsel. Dürer painted four Apostles, not four evangelists.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Four_Evangelists
Four evangelists were painted
1. by Dutch painter Abraham Bloemaert. 1612-1615
2. by Flemish Baroque artist Jacob Jordaens, 1625
3. by Italian Baroque artist Mattia Preti, 1656-1660
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Four_Evangelists_(painting)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abraham_Bloemaert
From wikipedia.
4]. Dürer.
Four Apostles https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Four_Apostles was painted by German painter Abrecht Dürer. 5/21/1471 – 4/6/1528. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albrecht_D%C3%BCrer
From wikipedia
