Today in Salem: It’s the Sabbath, and Rev Parris is raising his hands skyward and thundering on about the Father of all mercies, comforting us in our despair so that we can, in turn, comfort others.
Next to the pulpit, a large hourglass trickles sand, marking time until the meeting ends. The sand is mesmerizing, and one man in particular can’t look away. He is far from feeling comforted. His wife, the nervous Sarah Cloyce, has been in jail for two and a half months. Both of her sisters are there as well, the pious Mary Esty and the beloved Rebecca Nurse.
It’s hot in the meeting house, and the man waves a fly away as he thinks about the sand. Nine days ago, the unruly Bridget Bishop was hanged. And nine days from now, the Trials will resume, this time for his sister-in-law, the beloved Rebecca Nurse. Today is a midpoint, as dangerously empty as the time between the last breath of this day and the first breath of the next. What will fill the space? Is time moving too slowly? Or too quickly?
The meeting house rustles as people stand for prayer, and the man joins them, grateful to close his eyes and break the spell of the hourglass. Thy will be done, he thinks. But what if that means his wife and her sisters must die? Is it wrong of him to pray for their lives?