BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 2

ZELLA LaSTELLA-SALLIE

HERE IS THE PATIENCE OF THE SAINTS; HERE ARE THOSE WHO KEEP THE COMMANDMENTS OF GOD AND THE FAITH OF JESUS (Revelation 14:12)

            I laid in bed thinking about Inga for a long time before I fell asleep. By all appearances she was world hardened and tough. Yet as she climbed into the bed I had prepared for her, her demeanor became meek and childlike. Her large, lovely eyes that gazed up at me were arctic blue, like the sky at the North Pole on a sunny day. That color only made the brown circles underneath them stand out all the more.

            In my mind I kept hearing her tell me the bed was the most comfortable thing after four years in her sleeping roll. I was delighted to be bringing her such joy, yet my heart also ached for what her life must have been like. I prayed earnestly for wisdom in dealing with the broken young woman on the other side of the bedroom wall.

            Another element that brought mixed emotions was food. I smiled at the remembrance of her shoveling in the lasagna last evening and stuffing bite after bite of garlic bread into her mouth. It was as if it were the last decent meal she would ever have. And in her mind it very well could have been.

            She slept for more than eleven hours, and I wasn’t surprised. I had been listening to my husband’s daily podcast when just before ten in the morning I heard a low strum coming from my son’s guitar. I walked to the bedroom door and heard Inga quietly singing ‘Amazing Grace.’ My jaw dropped. She had the voice of an angel! I couldn’t help knocking on her door.

            It went completely quiet, and I couldn’t help giggling. Seven loved watching ‘Andy Griffith Show’ reruns and this moment reminded me of the first episode featuring the hillbilly family ‘The Darlings.’ The family played old time country music. When the father checked into the local hotel, he registered as the only occupant. But then the clerk heard the sound of several instruments. When he and Sherrif Taylor knocked on the door, the music stopped except for the hoots coming from Briscoe Darling’s jug.

            That scene is what made me giggle. When there was a prolonged silence, I imagined a jug beginning to hoot. I knocked again and then I could hear Inga pad to the door. She opened it about six inches, and those arctic blue eyes peered out at me. She meekly said, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

            “No, no, Sweety,” I smiled. “I just heard you playing guitar and singing, and came to say good morning.”

            “Oh, good morning,” she replied cheerfully.

            “You sing beautifully.”

            She shrugged modestly but then added truthfully. “Yeah, thankfully my voice has filled my cup with change many, many times.”

            I knew she referred to singing on the streets with a tip jar. I also recalled her reason for shop lifting; she hadn’t eaten in two days.

            “Are you hungry, do you want some breakfast?”

            “I’m starving,” she declared happily. “I’d love some.”

            I couldn’t help laughing as I recalled how much she ate last night. “How did you sleep?”

            “Wonderful! Thank you for letting me stay here last night.”

            I read between the lines. “You know, like we said told you yesterday, you’re welcome here until you get on your feet.”

            Given what she had told us yesterday, I made sure not to say back on your feet. She looked at me with a baffled expression. “I don’t even know how to go about that.”

            “We’ll help you figure it out.”

            Her countenance became anxious, and this triggered anxiety in me. I bit my lip and offered up a silent prayer. Then cautiously I tried, “Honey, can I ask how you ended up homeless?”

            She looked away from me as if ashamed. “It’s complicated, and a long story.”

            “That’s okay. I’ve got time.”

            “No, it’s not okay,” she spit, turning her eyes back to me with fire in them. Then as fast as the blaze in her gaze came up, it faded away and her countenance softened. “I’m sorry, it’s just… Let’s just say I grew up under bizarre circumstances. I don’t think I can fit into the real world.”

            “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

            She looked at me curiously. “You mean how you and Seven don’t really fit into the real world either?”

            I tilted my head with a curious expression. “What do you mean?”

            “I mean touting Saturday as the sabbath when most of the Christian world is all gung ho over those Sunday laws. Seven was even arrested over the issue. Plus you invited a homeless girl into your home while a large portion of the religious world just don’t want us uglifying their streets. I fear for you guys.”

            “You fear for us?” Said the homeless girl? I frowned.

            “Yeah, I mean, when God became a human being, the powers that be put him to death for rebelling against the religious, political agenda. Now with Sunday laws, we have religion mixing with politics. I see Christ’s Sermon on the Mount as not just a way to live and think, but also a political statement. You know, like, these are the rules in God’s kingdom vs. the rules of earthly kingdoms. Jesus’s own followers wanted Him to be an earthly king, but He said, My kingdom is not of this world.”

            My mouth was agape as I stared at Inga. This young woman was bright! Why did she feel she couldn’t get a job and a more substantial place to live than a tent? She giggled at my astonished expression. “I may be homeless, but I’m not necessarily an idiot.”

            “No, I should say not.”

            “On the other hand, I don’t understand why it’s that big of a deal for you guys. I mean, isn’t shutting down one day of the week good for the environment? And also ensuring workers time with their families?”

            “That’s all well and good, but where the problems come in is with its progression. I assume you didn’t listen to the podcast that got Seven in trouble?”

            “No, I didn’t.”

            “He didn’t necessarily get in trouble for teaching the Biblical Sabbath. He got in trouble for pushing back on the talk of mandatory worship on Sunday. When he called it the mark of the beast, the powers that be called it hate speech.”

            “I thought the mark of the beast was a computer chip in your hand and even your forehead.”

            “A computer chip might play a role when it comes to the aspect of buying and selling. But the main characteristic of the mark of the beast has to do with worship. The mark in your hand represents what you do, and the forehead is in what you think. The test is over the ten commandments. A key verse is in Revelation 14:12. And the key commandment that is being disputed is the fourth, right in the middle of the Decalogue.”

            “What’s the Decalogue?”

            “It’s another word for the Ten Commandments.”

            “Weird. So you’re saying this whole issue with Sunday ordinances is the mark of the beast?”

            “Not just yet. That’s why Seven has been issuing warnings on his podcast. The business closures, limited travel, and suggestions of going to worship services was just the start. But now there are more and more calls by political and religious leaders to make Sunday worship mandatory. Capitulating to this is the mark of the beast in the fullest sense.”

            “What do you mean by ‘capitulating?’”

            “You know, giving in, surrendering to the demands. There are already several states on the verge of making, so called, worship of your choice mandatory, for the good of society, they say.”

            “Did this all start back when several states started putting the Ten Commandments back in schools?”

            “Good question! That did play a subtle roll in my opinion.”

            “I still don’t get it. The majority of Christians view Sunday as the Sabbath. How could so many be wrong?”

            “Biblically speaking, when has the majority ever been right? Were they right in Noah’s day? Were they right when Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego refused to fall down and worship Nebuchadnezzar’s golden image? Were they right at Christ’s first advent, when there was no room at the in, and Jesus was born in a stable? Were they right when He was crucified?”

            “I see,” she said thoughtfully as she pondered these things.

            “Sunday posing as the sabbath really took off in the fourth century when Constantine made Christianity a legal religion. This church and state combination brought a lot of paganism into the church. Hence, the ‘Venerable Day of the Sun’ became prominent as the Christian sabbath. Just google venerable day of the sun or look up Sabbath truth. com.”

            I heard Inga’s stomach growl and recalled her say she was starving. She blushed because it was rather noticeable. “Oh, Honey, I’m sorry. Let’s get you some breakfast.”

            “No worries,” she said with a meek smile. “I’m used to being hungry.”

            As we made our way to the kitchen, I felt a lump in my throat, once again, at how her life must have been. As I made pancakes, I tried to extract some details about her life, but she did a masterful job of side stepping the questions with vague answers.

            When I put a tall pile of flapjacks onto the table, Seven emerged from the basement. He had a studio down there where he broadcasted his daily podcast. He declared, “Something smells good. Oh wow, pancakes for lunch?” “

            “It’s called brunch if it’s before eleven,” I said before giving him a quick kiss.

            “Suit yourself. But if it’s before eleven, but you get up before five, I call it lunch. So did you listen to my podcast?”

            “I started to,” I told him. “But then Inga and I got to talking.”

            He winced. “I think I might have pushed things with the thought police.”

            A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. As Seven aimed a fork full of pancake toward his mouth, he said, “I’ll get it.”

            I chuckled. “I’ll get it.”

            My heart skipped a beat, and my smile fell when I saw the two people standing on our stoop. One was Lieutenant Louis Lewis, and the other was Seven’s cousin Brock’s ex-girlfriend, FBI agent Nora Medora. Her face was blank, but her dark eyes cold. Triple Lou wore a stern expression as he said, “May we speak with Seven Sallie, please?”