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morning, Sister Simon and Sister Brown,” Pastor Tellings said. He refused to cut his miniature Don King Afro.
    “Good morning,” they responded together.
    “Good morning, Jada. Your mother’s waiting for you.”
    “Good morning, Pastor.” Jada hugged her Bible to her chest and shook Pastor Tellings’s hand.
    The congregation had doubled in membership over the past five years. The pastor had added two additional services: one at seven o’clock in the morning and the other at seven o’clock at night. Jada and her mother still attended the eleven o’clock service. Stained glass covered every window, and a picture of Christ on the cross hung high upon the wall behind the pulpit.
    Jada enjoyed when Pastor Tellings opened his sermon with a poem. This morning he recited “Ask Why,” which was one of her favorites.
    Heaven on earth

Hell for some

depends on whether

you ‘re smart or dumb

depends on whether

you ‘re rich or poor

or whether you ‘re four feet

or six feet or ten

from the floor

depends on whether

you ‘re white or black

skinny or fat

depends on whether

you ‘re ugly or cute

bony or brute

funny or shy

please ask why

Heaven on earth

is Hell for some

most smart people

are really dumb

Heaven should be for all

and Hell

for NONE.
    “Pastor is really hitting home this morning,” Mama whispered.
    Pastor Tellings continued with his sermon topic: “Heaven Should Be for All and Hell for None.”
    “God is the only one who can judge us. Therefore, it matters not what material gains you’ve acquired, or what size you are, or the color of your skin. Christians help those in need. How can you leave your nice cozy home and walk right by a homeless person. Then you walk through the doors of the church, praise God, and ask him to bless
you.
You walk out of the church, pass the
same
homeless person, and walk into your home
without a conscience.”
    Pastor Tellings hardly resembled Don King. Sister Armstrong always called him ReverendJames. He was fifty-five and single. His high-yellow complexion, flat nose, and slender face clashed with his hair. He sparingly accepted dinner invitations from married couples and never from single women in the church.
    “You need to hold yourself accountable and
ask why.
Don’t you know that if each one teaches one to be self-sufficient, Heaven on earth would be Hell for none?” Pastor picked up his white handkerchief, dried his forehead, then took a sip of water.
    “In closing, I ask each of you to
ask why.
Ask yourselves why, and the next time you pass a person in need of help or in need of prayer, take a moment. One day it might be you standing in the need of prayer.” He sang. Pastor Tellings had begun to sing and not a soul in the church reached for the hymnbook that sat in the pew’s bookcase facing them. The choir and congregation joined in.
    Afterward, a lot of the congregation wore guilty expressions. Jada commented on the mother and two children living on the corner of Ninety-eighth Avenue and East Fourteenth Street.
    “Baby,” Mama said, “do you think we can really help them?” Mama’s eyes were slightly red.
    “Well, we can definitely try.” Jada felt obligated.
    They approached the woman. A large-brimmed navy hat and sunglasses hid her face. A scarf was tied around her cheeks and under her chin. She sat on an old blanket with holes. The cardboard sign in her ashy hands read LOST OUR LEASE ON LIFE PLEASE HELP. Tears formed in Jada’s eyes. She felt ashamed for having so much and sharing so little.
    “Hi, my name is Jada Tanner and this is mymother, Ruby Tanner.” The story they heard changed their outlook.
    “My name is Jazzmyne. These are my children. Brandon is three and Shelly is eight. I’m not looking for a handout. But I do need help.”
    The normally busy intersection was fairly quiet. Sister Brown with Sister Simon drove by and tooted her horn. The overcast sky hung low but there was no rain in the forecast. Jada and her