Wishful Seeing by Janet Kellough

how Thaddeus was taking this point. He remained calm and showed no reaction. As far as he was concerned, the Baptist had already hanged himself.
    â€œFurthermore,” Brown went on, “the translators were all sprinklers themselves. As a result, the language has been so changed by this influence that it is not to be depended upon.”
    Thaddeus knew what the next gambit would be. And sure enough, the man made his pitch, repeating the argument he had put forth at their first confrontation.
    â€œMy good friend here,” Brown pointed to Thaddeus, “relies upon the King James version of this Book of Books. He does not know how to read Greek or Latin.”
    Thaddeus allowed himself a small nod of the head in response to this.
    â€œI, however, have read the original Greek and Latin texts for myself, and I can tell you that this Bible, this Protestant Bible, has been mistranslated, particularly with respect to Baptism. If you read it in Greek, or if you read it in Latin, it is clear that the Lord Jesus was in favour of full immersion.”
    There was another round of clapping from the Baptists in the crowd. Brown bowed in acknowledgment, and then he nodded smugly at Thaddeus and stepped back.
    Thaddeus was astonished. This was no argument at all. Brown had quoted no verses, cited no authorities, had done nothing but repeat the statements he had made at the camp meeting. This was too easy. Thaddeus felt a twinge of disappointment. He had been looking forward to a spirited debate that would test his skills as both an orator and a logician, not this pale excuse for a debate. Then he recalled his duty, and knew that this day he would bring many to the Methodist Episcopal Church.
    He stepped forward, cast a long look around him, resisted the urge to look toward the fence, and then turned to Brown.
    â€œThank you very much for that insightful summary, Mr. Brown,” he said. A handful of people caught the sarcasm in his voice and snickered a little.
    â€œI’m afraid, however, that you have seized the wrong end of the argument. Now, you must understand me clearly. I certainly do not mean to say, or to be understood to say, that the Reverend Mr. Brown is an infidel.”
    There was a gasp. Thaddeus held his hand up in admonishment.
    â€œNo, indeed, I hold him as a Christian brother. But I do believe that he has mistaken his way on the doctrine of Baptism. And I must say that I have never in my life met an infidel who strove to invalidate and render useless the Protestant Bible so much as he does.”
    He had the crowd’s full attention now. This was more like what they were expecting.
    â€œNo, I would prefer to believe that Mr. Brown just didn’t understand properly what he was saying or doing. He pressed the open Bible to his heart and declared his intense love for it.”
    â€œYes, he did!” someone shouted.
    â€œHe said he esteemed it above any other book. That it was the Book of Books!”
    Thaddeus paused for a moment to let the tension build before he went on.
    â€œAnd then he turns right around and claims that this Book of Books, this Book that he loves with all his heart, is nothing more than a mistranslated piece of nonsense!”
    There was wild applause at this. Thaddeus waited until it had just started to diminish, just slightly, and then he turned to the Baptist minister. “Well, which is it, Mr. Brown?”
    He thought he would be deafened by the roar that went up. He had to admit to himself that it was a lovely piece of rhet­oric, and he couldn’t believe that any minister who had achieved ordination would not have seen the contradiction in the Baptist’s argument. Brown was red in the face, his mouth opening and closing. He wanted a rebuttal, Thaddeus could see, but the crowd wasn’t going to let him have it. Neither was Thaddeus.
    He held his hand up to quell the noise. He wasn’t quite finished yet.
    â€œIt is true that I read neither