The Wishing Ceremony
by Miriam E. Neiberg
After nine months of backache, bloating, swelling and never-ending mood swings, Annabelle Fields-Rayhorn was finally holding her bundle of love; a six-pound, bouncing, bald baby boy. He was the only firstborn son to arrive in the Fields Family in over three generations.
Her young husband, Mac, was busy thanking the doctors and nurses while at the same time trying to grasp the idea that he was now a father. Nine months seemed a long time, yet neither parent was prepared for the sudden rush of relief and elation that they felt when this birth actually took place.
Mac rushed out to the waiting room. “It's a boy! Oh man, we have a boy!” he yelled to the new grandparents, aunts and uncles, who cheered and returned hugs, kisses and smiles with unrestrained exuberance.
In the birthing room, Annabelle lay quietly reviewing the moment she first held her son in her arms. Her body was exhausted from the whole birthing ordeal, but she smiled and began thinking of her son, who was so beautiful, so perfect. As he lay in her tired arms, she felt herself bound to him like Crazy Glue. He slept quietly, totally oblivious to the chaos his appearance in the world was creating in the Fields and Rayhorn households.
Her mind also began reaching into spaces not visited for a long time, stopping at secret wishes and promises only whispered in prayers throughout her girlhood, left not so long ago. A more perfect candidate than her son did not exist for the Holy Task. In her arms was the proof that God had judged her and her Mac worthy.
Outside, still surrounded by family, Mac joyously grabbed the cell phone, hit that one magical number known to all, and began speaking: “Seer Roper, AB and I discussed it and you can count on us. We're in!” He was equally relieved and satisfied from all the joy and happiness extending from those surrounding him.
For many, Annabelle, the magenta-lipped teacher was like the older sister; for others, their only adult protector. She showed up at her students' games on weekends to cheer them on loudly or to comfort them patiently when they lost. After all, the good Lord commanded His followers to treat others as one would have themselves be treated.
Her husband, with dark brown wavy hair and big smiling black eyes, Mac Rayhorn, behaved much the same with the folks that came in contact with him. He worked in his father's electronic store, answering customer questions in an unrushed manner, happily demonstrating the newest gadgets for those souls intimidated by all the contraptions that glared back at them. They felt understood; they felt safe. No one but his Annabelle knew the hours Mac spent reading the boring instruction manuals. It was this ceaseless warmth and care-giving that made them the darling couple of their community, a community made up of over two hundred precious souls.
During the week, the community did what everyone does. They worked, had social evenings, helped their kids with homework and held Bible study get-togethers. But on the Sabbath, all went to the House of Worship to join their revered Seer Roper in praising the Lord and keeping in the good Lord's graces.
The Wishing Ceremony of Mac and Annabelle Rayhorn's child would be a great event for everyone in the community. Above all, a firstborn son was always held in high esteem. Everyone knew that a firstborn son meant that even more blessings were to be brought to their faithful community.
On the thirtieth day after the birth, Elder Laban Hudson, the town's apothecary, visited the Rayhorn household to make the traditional arrangements for the big event. Their Wishing Ceremony would be held at the Moriah House of Worship. The date of the ceremony was carefully calculated by Seer Roper along with Elder Hudson based on complicated numerological and astronomical factors.
The guest list had to be made, but this was easy: the whole congregation would attend. After all, a firstborn son was not just a prophecy for many good things to come but also a rare opportunity for each member of the community, since not every son is firstborn, nor is every firstborn a son.
Special arrangements would even be made to bring old Delilah Umson, the ninety-year old, “oldest worship member” back and forth from her home to the House of Worship. No Wishing Ceremony had ever taken place without her, and all in the community had come to expect her presence at these holy events.
Then there were Rebecca and Earl Winn who were out of town, again. Ever since Earl got his lucrative promotion — soon after the Wishing Ceremony of their own firstborn son — he and Rebecca had been attending worship services much less often. When one of the Elders had made mention of this to Seer Roper, the Seer had counseled forbearance. “Earl's recently acquired position has put him in the limelight and so, perhaps, Earl should be given some latitude as he adjusts to his very recently acquired good fortune.” Earl's promotion so quickly after his Wishing Ceremony was proof, to all, of the ceremony's mystical ability to bring about blessings.
Elder Reuben Bilaam, a jovial fellow holding an impressive government position in their state, would take care of all the administrative paperwork. These sensitive procedures could understandably not be expected to fall on the family's shoulders.
The caterer, also a staunch worship member, was contacted. The ceremony was always immediately followed with a backyard barbecue that cleverly blended smells of a variety of burning flesh, producing an air of family, friends and community bonding together after the significant religious experience.
Cora Fields, Annabelle's overjoyed mother, splurged on the forthcoming special occasion. She would make sure that her husband and all her children would be in their holiday best. After all, this firstborn son was the first in the Fields family in over three generations. The Seer himself would bless the family at the Wishing Ceremony.
Cynthia, another teacher at Annabelle's school, assisted by her two daughters, would take the community's children out into the country for a day of fun, far away from the sights, sounds and smells of the Ceremony and barbecue. Parents could hardly be expected to cope with the powerful emotions of the day while their children scampered around them.
On the eve of the appointed day, Mac looked nervously at his young, beautiful wife as he tried to ascertain what was going on in Annabelle's mind. He couldn't help but notice that her strawberry ponytail seemed to be hanging limply. “AB, we're sure, we're really sure about this, right? We're really gonna go through with this?”
AB turned herself around from the closet. With bloodshot eyes, she stared directly into her husband's strained face and simply whispered, “Yes. This is our Holy Task, our test of faith and we have to do it. If it were easy, all would be able to do it. Now go finish packing.” She turned back to the closet and continued pulling and tearing uncooperative clothes off the stubborn hangers. She refused to speak to Mac until it was time to go to her parents' house, as custom required.
Just before bed, Mac and AB nervously swallowed the tiny white pills that had been provided by Elder Hudson. They did so in front of Mr. and Mrs. Fields who stood guard to see that they did all that was required, quietly and successfully. Everyone in the family went to bed, but only drugged Mac and Annabelle slept.
They woke to find their son already in his Wishing apparel. Elder Hudson was in the kitchen chatting casually with Annabelle's father about the high school basketball team's chances this year. Mr. Fields stammered and barely gave audible answers.
“This day is testing my last nerve. I don't know how I'll get through it. I've grown to love him; my f-fir... first grandson, my beau... beautiful grandson” said Mr. Fields. He couldn't look into the elder's face.
Elder Hudson looked at him with eyes that had seen the emotions of family members on Ceremony mornings. He took out the little individual white envelopes he had brought for Mr. Fields and the rest of the household. All would be calm. All would go exactly as planned, as always.
At the Moriah House of Worship, members sat quietly. Delilah Umson, the very first to have gone through the sacred Ceremony, was already there dressed in her very best. The familiar white hat, which she wore only on these special occasions, sat proudly on her head. She understood the tremendous significance of the day. Being so many decades removed from her childbearing years, she could look upon the ceremony with composure. Also in attendance: Earl and a very pregnant Rebecca Winn, who had arrived that morning from out of state, specifically for the Wishing Ceremony.
Mac and Annabelle calmly walked in side by side, silent, unblinking, their faces eerily expressionless. The rest of the Fields and Rayhorn families followed, vacant faces also showing evidence of effective white pills. Elder Hudson's apothecary skills were a boon to these blessed events.
Like soldiers stoically marching off to war, the family members walked in a divine procession and sat in rows reserved for them. Like the rest of the parishioners, they were a gentle and obedient flock that heeded their adored shepherd, Seer Roper.
Up front in the first rows sat the Elders with their families. At last, a beloved family friend and respected worship member carried in the little white bundle. He walked confidently toward the front row, eyes straight ahead. He sat holding the sleeping baby in his arms.
Seer Titus Roper walked into the room, a proud man, his height and rigid stance proclaiming his authority which easily turned proud men into his willing followers. These men of action gladly did his biddings. Many left jobs in the middle of the day or left family dinners to obey their captain's command.
Seer Roper was a charismatic leader who flourished in the respect and love of his devoted flock. His made sure his congregants felt themselves respected for their abilities to get their leader's tasks done. He listened as a loving father to their concerns. He motivated his people whenever they needed uplifting, and they obeyed him enthusiastically, for all knew how committed Seer Titus Roper was to the Lord.
Seer Roper was a man knowledgeable in the ways of persuasion and human emotion. He knew that in order to attract the caliber of men he needed to achieve his vision, he had to offer these men more than mere trivial monetary incentives.
It was no secret that the top priority of all the men in the congregation was to become a member of the Seer's exclusive team of Elders.
Seer Roper walked, glancing neither right nor left, upon the cold stones leading to his pulpit. Once there, he cast his forceful gaze upon his congregation. Some were biting their nails. Others let out little nervous coughs. Quite a few looked at him with adoration. He regarded everyone as a proud parent would, smiling his impossibly perfect smile.
An expectant, silence enveloped the crowd. The crowd had simultaneously shifted itself forward stretching their individual backbones to better hear their leader's every magisterial word.
“My dearest ones” he began calmly, “we are here today to become one and to partake in a Holy Task that has stood the test of time. Our task has endured attacks on our commitment to our Lord. Yet we persist. We are an island surrounded by a sea of heathens. Their children run wild without guidance. They join gangs in order to find a loving family. Among them, adultery has become commonplace.” Sweat dripped from his face; Seer Roper's eyes bulged.
“Random murder is flourishing like never before with no signs of lessening. Corruption rules everywhere. We stand alone. The Lord has told us to follow His path. Live a righteous life and He will grant us all we wish.”
“In following our Lord's way, we are asked to show our undying devotion and belief in Him, The Supreme Giver of Life. We show our gratitude and love by offering up to Him our most beloved, our most treasured, in the hopes that He will see that we rely on Him for our all.”
The Seer's face was red, and shiny with sweat and the veins on his neck stood out. His mouth, usually so calm and controlled, uncharacteristically grimaced as he shouted his message.
“Dearest ones, we cannot find the correct words to show our gratitude to Annabelle and Mac Rayhorn and their worthy families, the Fields and Rayhorns, for giving us, this holy congregation, the priceless gift of the sacred messenger.”
“Due to them, we will be able to send to our Lord a deliverer who will take our heartfelt wishes directly to the One and Only. As Abraham was tested with the sacrificing of his beloved son, Isaac, we take on our Holy Task and commit ourselves, our families, and our children.”
Quite abruptly his voice dove octaves lower. He ended the speech quietly. “Holy ones, blessed art thou to be given a deed which the world has been deemed unworthy to partake of. The deity wants your precious ones to be his angels, his messengers. Join me in this Holy Task and know that Heaven is awaiting our faithful gift!”
The women got up quietly with heads lowered to their chests. There were no passing glances. Many tried to relive their own Ceremony Day, but the little white pills, which they had dutifully taken, had robbed them of the memory. They doggedly exited the Moriah House of Worship, intent on getting out to the yard without stumbling or falling.
Elder Bilaam quickly led Annabelle, Mac and their mothers to his waiting car and drove them home. Their fathers had already joined the other men and. followed the Seer up the steps through the large Brazilian Rosewood doors into the Great Room. The men nervously took their places. No one spoke. No one could.
The Great Room was stark. No pictures adorned the walls. No seats graced the large barren chamber. A solitary stone stood in the middle of the sparkling waxed floor. In one of the walls was a big fireplace with flames protruding eagerly out of its confining boundary. Even the fire seemed too impatient to wait for the moment it would play its role in the sacred ritual.
Elder Hudson laid the undressed Rayhorn baby on the stone mound. The men stood quietly in line. Each man went to the baby and whispered his request into the baby's ear so that their messenger would be able to reiterate it properly when he reached his final destination.
When all the wishes were conveyed to that small recipient, Seer Roper took the freshly sharpened knife and held it over the child. The blade reflected the colors of the flames.
When the ceremony ended, the men headed outside to their waiting wives to begin the feasting. It was a glorious day to have a barbeque, but then, it always was. Good weather, good health, a community turned extended family, all these were undoubted signs from the Lord that He was pleased.
Copyright © 2021 by Miriam E. Neiberg
