Expecting that I might need a bible for reference while in the company
of Rasta Priests, I brought along the very old King James version,
given to me by my favorite dumpster-diving salvage artist, Steve Neilsen.
he had found it in a dumpster, but it had been wrapped in successive paper
bags, held together by a heavy rubber band. Probably because of it's like-
new condition; the previous owner wished to pass it along in good shape.
It was a handy size, bound in leather. In truth, this was a bible meant for
a much more serious servant of the Lord than I ever was or will be. It sure
looked good on my mantel though.
Brother Ivy made complementary mention of it when we first met and when
the service was underway he introduced Bob and I to those in attendance.
When the cheering subsided (I think those present mistook Bob for the
movie actor, Robert Kidwell whom he did sort of resemble) Brother Ivy turned to me, put his hand on the bible which I held between us. "Brother Gideon" he
asked, "Do you know the bible?"
"I read it about 10 years ago, but much of it I didn't understand then and much more of it I've forgotten by now. No, I'm afraid I can't say I know it"
"Don't worry yourself about it, I know it as though I wrote it myself, but
I'm now one of a very small minority, he said. Perhaps a singularity".
Then he seated us in the front row of pews and took his place in the pulpit.
Then he seated us in the front row of pews and took his place in the pulpit.
He began by calling the shortcomings of some of the most egregious sinners
there, to the rest of us in his audience. This turned out to be a consistent
part of every evening service I saw. So far as I was aware, the sinner and
the sin were never specified but the rant was heavy with judgment and con-
demnation but thankfully, not much duration. He apparently liked that part
as little as the rest of us but thought it necessary. No need to dwell on it though and on he went to the next item on his agenda: The addition to the shower-house was nearing completion. The framework was complete except
for rafters, and those would be cut tomorrow. (Anyone able to stop by and
lend a hand would be most welcome).
Brother Ivy covered other items of business involving the Rasta community
and I kinda drifted away in thought and sight. Half listening to brother Ivy,
half watching his audience while thinking about the place and people among
whom Bob and I had been a day earlier and how it might be if they were among us now. (When you are with the Rastas, there are no moments devoid
the offer of cannabis use). I'm pulled from my reverie to hear Brother Ivy
call my name: "Brother Gideon, if you will open your Bible, to any page and
begin reading wherever you wish, I'll show you how well I know the Bible.
OK ? Go ahead."
"OK. And all the congregation lifted up their voice, and cried: and the
people wept that night" I said, reading from page 242.
"Numbers, Chapter 14, verse two: And all the children of Israel murmured
against Moses and against Aaron: and the whole congregation said unto
them, Would God that we had died in the land of Egypt! "Brother Ivy said
without hesitation, without missing a single word and strangely, in a voice
not like his own; with the thick Jamaican accent, but one with extreme clarity,
and unique, God-like Timbre. (Really, he hadn't spoken but a few words, and
I thought "The Voice of God?.....and the Brain of God? I should point out that
while I've just mentioned him reciting the verse just following the one which
I read, he actually went on for six or eight or more verses before prompting
me to choose another point for him to begin again and again. Thirty-three
times that evening, by actual count. (I pencil-marked each page that I
opened to and tallied them at night's end) Every single one of the 33 which
he recited was exactly the same as it appeared in my Bible. He identified
book,chapter and verse each time before starting and it seemed that he
needed to hear only two or three words of any verse to correctly locate him-
self. A couple of times my reading wasn't correct and he pointed out my
mistake and corrected me before giving book,chapter and verse and
proceeding with his recitation.
I must admit this demonstration completely puzzles me, even to this day.
How an illiterate street person with no particular moral compass and no
regard for his fellow man, could be transformed in the space of three days
into the Brother Ivy that I experienced, is beyond me. It does seem to
border on the miraculous, but that area is really out of my territory. I
would have suspected some kind of chicanery, but there was no evidence
that I could see that would support such notion. And, except for the voice
that came from him when he recited the verses he seemed so commonplace,
so at ease with it all,certainly not like one practicing deceit, unless he had
had much practice at it and was able to deceive effortlessly. His entire
demonstration was conducted while he stood in front of the pulpit with no
Bible, no notes, no one standing near him with any reference material, no
one signalling to him...I,m pretty much convinced that the Bible was, some-
how in his head.
end ofVisit with Jamaican Rastas, part 4
there, to the rest of us in his audience. This turned out to be a consistent
part of every evening service I saw. So far as I was aware, the sinner and
the sin were never specified but the rant was heavy with judgment and con-
demnation but thankfully, not much duration. He apparently liked that part
as little as the rest of us but thought it necessary. No need to dwell on it though and on he went to the next item on his agenda: The addition to the shower-house was nearing completion. The framework was complete except
for rafters, and those would be cut tomorrow. (Anyone able to stop by and
lend a hand would be most welcome).
Brother Ivy covered other items of business involving the Rasta community
and I kinda drifted away in thought and sight. Half listening to brother Ivy,
half watching his audience while thinking about the place and people among
whom Bob and I had been a day earlier and how it might be if they were among us now. (When you are with the Rastas, there are no moments devoid
the offer of cannabis use). I'm pulled from my reverie to hear Brother Ivy
call my name: "Brother Gideon, if you will open your Bible, to any page and
begin reading wherever you wish, I'll show you how well I know the Bible.
OK ? Go ahead."
"OK. And all the congregation lifted up their voice, and cried: and the
people wept that night" I said, reading from page 242.
"Numbers, Chapter 14, verse two: And all the children of Israel murmured
against Moses and against Aaron: and the whole congregation said unto
them, Would God that we had died in the land of Egypt! "Brother Ivy said
without hesitation, without missing a single word and strangely, in a voice
not like his own; with the thick Jamaican accent, but one with extreme clarity,
and unique, God-like Timbre. (Really, he hadn't spoken but a few words, and
I thought "The Voice of God?.....and the Brain of God? I should point out that
while I've just mentioned him reciting the verse just following the one which
I read, he actually went on for six or eight or more verses before prompting
me to choose another point for him to begin again and again. Thirty-three
times that evening, by actual count. (I pencil-marked each page that I
opened to and tallied them at night's end) Every single one of the 33 which
he recited was exactly the same as it appeared in my Bible. He identified
book,chapter and verse each time before starting and it seemed that he
needed to hear only two or three words of any verse to correctly locate him-
self. A couple of times my reading wasn't correct and he pointed out my
mistake and corrected me before giving book,chapter and verse and
proceeding with his recitation.
I must admit this demonstration completely puzzles me, even to this day.
How an illiterate street person with no particular moral compass and no
regard for his fellow man, could be transformed in the space of three days
into the Brother Ivy that I experienced, is beyond me. It does seem to
border on the miraculous, but that area is really out of my territory. I
would have suspected some kind of chicanery, but there was no evidence
that I could see that would support such notion. And, except for the voice
that came from him when he recited the verses he seemed so commonplace,
so at ease with it all,certainly not like one practicing deceit, unless he had
had much practice at it and was able to deceive effortlessly. His entire
demonstration was conducted while he stood in front of the pulpit with no
Bible, no notes, no one standing near him with any reference material, no
one signalling to him...I,m pretty much convinced that the Bible was, some-
how in his head.
end ofVisit with Jamaican Rastas, part 4
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