The Passion of Pastor Ferris

Earnest Ferris, pastor of the Evangelical Free Church of Harper Village, was known for quite literally holding his head high. It was not out of pride, as some of his detractors thought. It was not to hide a double chin, since he was a very slender man indeed. Nor was it to keep his eyes directed to Heaven and his Lord, as many of his congregants surmised. Pastor Ferris held his head high, eyes never steering too far down, to fight temptation.

Pastor Ferris was an exacting man. He would spend two or three hours a day, six days a week, to craft his sermon for the coming Sunday. He attended every committee meeting, listening attentively and offering his advice and insights to the lay leaders of the church. But he was most exacting, most demanding, in matters of dress and appearance. Men must have neatly trimmed short hair, neat clothes, and ideally be clean shaven. Women must not wear too much makeup or jewelry, or skirts above the knee, or anything even slightly immodest or indecent. There were allowances, of course - the occasional fellow with the well-trimmed beard, for example - but there was one point on which he was quite firm. Women's shoes, he insisted, must be plain and simple. Sandals and high heels were out; the ideal footwear for women was the simply styled brown loafer.

It was an odd little thing, but the members of his church didn't seem to mind, because otherwise he was a fine man and a truly inspired servant of the Lord. So he has a thing about women wearing plain shoes. And he wasn't too demanding about it. Why, the time Hillary Whitlock came in wearing dark sneakers to Sunday worship - imagine, sneakers! -- he never said a word and never raised a fuss. Turned out she had a good reason, what with that broken toe, poor girl, but she didn't even need to explain it, he just paid it no mind.

Earnest Ferris was a good man, and an exemplary pastor. He led his congregation in worship and fellowship, and in their charitable acts throughout the community. And they in turn supported him in times of trouble, most importantly when his wife of twelve years became ill and eventually passed away. Earnest Ferris loved his church, and his church loved him.

It was on an October day when Maggie Timson came knocking on the door of his study. He took off his reading glasses and nodded with raised eyebrows, his silent way of welcoming her in. Maggie smiled as she walked into the office and sat down, and he sat across, looking straight into her eyes as he always did.

"What can I do for you today?"

"Well, Pastor, I have a friend named Jessie. She hasn't been to church in a while, and I was thinking of inviting her to Sunday worship."

"Of course," he replied.

"The thing is," she continued, "she's also in need of a job, and I know you're still looking for an administrator, ... "

"I see," he said. "Well, you can introduce us after worship, and we can take it from there."

Maggie grinned. "Thank you, Pastor. I really appreciate it."

He smiled and nodded, and she left him to finish his work.

That Sunday, Maggie brought her friend to worship. Jessie Astor made quite an impression on the congregation, and not just because of her natural beauty and brilliant red hair. Jessie carried herself with grace and dignity, and spoke with remarkable confidence. Men felt drawn to her - and more than a few women felt threatened by her. She and Maggie sat in one of the front pews, and as the congregation sang the opening hymn, Jessie's soprano voice floated above them all like the feathers of an angel's wings.

But it was something else about Jessie that would stir the church, and especially its pastor, who stood at his pulpit and stare uncharacteristically downward, unable to speak for a full minute before he cleared his throat and delivered his sermon, and in a manner atypically imperfect.

It was her boots, burgundy red leather, covering her feet and calves, with slender heels adding nearly an inch to her stature. As the pastor struggled - yes, struggled - to keep from staring, and his congregants noticed his distraction, they eventually put the pieces together. And Maggie, her face turning pink, felt her heart sink for her friend, whose prospects for employment at the church had now grown very dim indeed.

Still, the pastor was civil, managed to compose himself, and chatted briefly with Jessie. And, strangely enough, he agreed to meet her the next day for an interview. Jessie later remarked to her friend how stand-offish he seemed, so different from how he'd been described. "I think it was your boots," Maggie managed to stammer, and nervously explained his eccentric preoccupation.

And Jessie laughed, head thrown back, a hearty and brassy laugh that made other people's heads turn. Then she grew calm, albeit with a knowing smile across her face.

That Monday, she arrived at the church just a few minutes early. She dressed professionally - and with black boots this time. Pastor Ferris sat frozen as she seated herself across from him and handed him her resume and letters of reference.

He pointed at her footwear. "Why do you insist on wearing those?"

"My boots?" she said innocently, "Well, they're specially designed. You see, I have a congenital circulation problem in my lower legs, and these keep my feet and calves from swelling like balloons."

"Oh," he said blankly. "Isn't there anything else?"

"Well, I've tried support hose and wrapping Ace bandages, but they don't work as well."

"You ... don't wear those to sleep ... do you?"

She grinned and giggled. "Of course not, Pastor! I have these custom knee-high socks, although when I wear them I have to remain lying down with my feet elevated. Really, it's quite manageable, and nothing to worry about."

"I see. Sorry if I intruded."

She waved her hand nonchalantly, and he adjusted himself in his seat and looked through her resume. Jessie had quite an impressive record, and the letters she brought backed that up; her only reason for being jobless was that her previous place of employment had gone out of business. As the interview went on, he managed to keep his eyes focused firmly on hers, and stayed on course about both her work history and her faith. Jessie had come from a more liberal church background, but found herself wanting to deepen her spiritual growth and commitment. She seemed indeed an ideal candidate as both his assistant and as a member of the congregation.

Then she did something which unintentionally made the pastor break out in a sweat, his eyes grow wide, and his hand tremble so strongly that the papers in his hand rattled like shutters in a windstorm.

Jessie crossed her legs.

The pastor, having glanced downwards for only a split second, swallowed hard and asked her: "How soon can you begin?"

"Whenever you're ready," she answered him.

She began the next day.

Jessie became a member of the church fairly quickly, and the pastor took a personal interest in her. He recommended that she join the church choir, given her God-gifted voice and her love of music. And she found that he was not so stand-offish as she initially thought, especially when she was wearing her church robe, or sitting behind her desk. Their conversations over lunch grew more and more interesting, from the Bible and philosophy to other mutual interests. Soon they became friends - and then something more.

It was in January when Pastor Ferris called Jessie and invited her to dinner and a movie. "A date, you mean?"

"Well," he said nervously, "if you'd like to see it that way."

She couldn't help smiling. "Thursday, at seven?"

"Uh, ... Yes! I mean, that would be fine, yes. Thank you."

And on Thursday he took her to Harper Village's best restaurant, and they sat and ate and talked for so long into the night that they never got around to the movie. Instead he walked her home, always keeping his eyes facing front, until she stopped, placed a hand on his chin, and turned his face towards hers.

"Earnest?"

He was pale. "Y-Yes?"

"Would you do something special for me?"

"I - I suppose."

She leaned closer and whispered in his ear. "Look at my boots."

Earnest slowly looked down. Jessie had six pairs of boots - two black, two dark brown, one light brown, and the burgundy red which she was wearing tonight. Her navy blue dress came just below her knee, and when she lifted one leg, the hint of her light skin peeked between the fabric and the leather, and her knee seemed to shimmer in the night. He shuddered as he stared.

Then she gently guided his face to look back into her generous green eyes. "See? Nothing to it."

"Jessie," he struggled to say. "I have something to confess to you." She nodded slowly, caressing the side of his jaw, reassuring him to proceed: "I've always had ... this thing ... about feet."

"Women's feet," she filled in.

His head jerked about as he nodded. "And shoes. Certain shoes, like - " His eyes went down to her boots again, then flashed back up to her eyes. "For so long, I've had to resist the temptation - "

"You thought it was wrong."

"It is wrong! To be drawn to just a part of a woman, and nothing more? Don't you see how objectifying, how disgusting - "

"Earnest," she demanded, "look at me!" He froze, and focused on her face. "I know, after all of these months, that is not true, that you respect me and care for me as a whole person."

He closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "Yes, Jessie. I do. What we have, and who you are - it means so much to me."

Her eyes glistened, and she leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek. "And that's why I have to confess something to you. Not as congregant to pastor, but because, if we're to go any further with this, then we need to be completely honest."

He took her hands in his, and looked tenderly at her. "Go ahead."

"Do you remember when I told you why I wore these boots?"

"Yes, that circulation problem of yours."

"Well," she admitted with a shrug, "that wasn't entirely true."

"What do you mean?"

"I did have that problem in college, and I did wear boots like these because my doctor recommended them. But, even after the problem went away, I was so used to wearing them that - "

Now his face changed completely, so much so that she needed to step back from him. "You knew! You knew about me the whole time!"

"It wasn't so difficult to figure out, Earnest."

"And you used me! You - "

"No, I swear!" she protested, rushing to take his hand. But he shook her off and stormed away. Jessie called out his name, but he ignored her as he walked off, leaving her where she was.

The next day, he called in sick, leaving Jessie alone in the church. He refused to talk to her, not even saying whether he wanted her to keep working there. On Saturday, he informed the chair of the Board of Elders that he would be too ill to lead worship, and so the deacons led an impromptu service that Sunday. And Jessie was absent that day as well.

Finally, on Monday, Pastor Ferris arrived at the church. Jessie was already there.

"We need to talk," he intoned, his gaze averted.

"Are you going to fire me?" she asked.

"I'd prefer," he struggled to say, "if you could leave voluntarily."

"Why?" she insisted. "Because I lied, or because I don't think that you should be ashamed?"

He shut his eyes tight. "Because you used my ... peculiar desire to get what you wanted."

"Let's say that I didn't wear these boots," she said, "but plain brown shoes like you make every woman around you wear. Would you have hired me then?"

"Of course," he answered coldly. "You're more than qualified."

"And if I had no feet at all, confined to a wheelchair?"

"That has nothing to do with your job, or your faith."

"Exactly!" she cried out. "Yes, I lied, and I am sorry for that, but I didn't do so to 'use your desire.' I did it so that it wouldn't be an issue, so that you could see me as qualified for the job, as a whole person. And you did see me that way, didn't you?"

He still couldn't look at her, but he managed to nod. "But you still can't understand why this is ... so wrong. It's like the Chinese, insisting that their women bind their feet - "

"No, Earnest," she corrected him. "Appreciating a woman's feet as they are, as God intended, that is nothing like foot-binding. But your insistence that every woman around you wrap their feet in clunky plain brown wrappers - "

Now he turned and glared at her. And then he began to realize that, yes, he'd been enforcing a demeaning legalism on every woman about him, insisting that they conform to an outward code for his sake and his alone. And now, having heard and realized this, he found it even harder to look at Jessie.

She reached over to his desk, grabbed his Bible, and handed it to him, and he sheepishly took it in hand. "If you can show me in Scripture," she challenged him, "where it says that a man may not admire a woman's feet, then I'll leave and not come back - painful as that is." And with that she turned and went to her office.

It was now the end of the day. The pastor had not come out of his office the entire time. Jessie had finished all of her work, neatly stacking and filing what needed to be put away. She took the coat from the closet and put it on, then draped her scarf about her neck.

As she stepped out of the hallway, the pastor was standing at the door of his study. His face was white like linen, drops of sweat covering his face. She slowly walked up to him, and when she was within reach, he gently took her face in his hands.

"Song of Solomon," he whispered, his voice quivering. "Chapter seven, verse one."

Jessie closed her eyes, feeling her heart turn to lead. Then he kissed her, more tenderly and passionately than either had kissed another, and tears came to his eyes, and she began to cry as well. And then Earnest Ferris, pastor of the Evangelical Free Church of Harper Village, sank to his knees, caressed her brown leather boots with the tips of his fingers, and through his sobs recited the verse:

"How beautiful are thy feet with shoes, O prince's daughter! The joints of thy thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning workman."

She burst into peals of delight, now crying with joy as he bent down to smother her feet with kisses, and then to embrace her about her legs.