“Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.”

The words of his sermon ring through his church. Monsignor Jefferson stands atop his perch. Purposefully above the pews so the churchgoers can look up at him. His regulars sit where they always do. Watching intently. Dr.Sharp and Lee sitting by themselves. Simone in her wheelchair between the front pews. Vera sitting with Cy. Martha and Samson sitting together in the second row. An earbud in Samson’s ear so he can listen to the baseball game, his radio tucked in his pocket.

This is where Jefferson feels most powerful. Standing in front of his congregation. Speaking his sermons. All eyes on him. Waiting with bated breaths for each word that falls from his lips. His robes shift and sway with each passionate movement of his arms. The echo of his voice against the the stone walls. With the strength he feels it could shake the stained glass.

But there was a newcomer in the midst of his people.