The Outsider
Stories
Object:
Contents
"The Outsider" by Keith Hewitt
"God Is Faithful to Godself" by Richard Jensen
* * * * * * * * *
The gospels are a reflection of a life in tiny bits, like beads of moments strung on a wire. Blessed -- or burdened -- with the responsibility of sharing the life and times of the Messiah, the writers of the gospels were limited to sharing only glimpses of that life, put together for the purpose of illustrating some teaching or some pivotal moment in his ministry. In "The Outsider," Keith Hewitt imagines one of the many moments in between -- a moment of rest and reflection on the day's events. But still a teachable moment…
* * *
The Outsider
Keith Hewitt
Luke 17:11-19
This was his favorite time of day. The sun was low, dipping behind the hills, and the sky was pearly gray mottled with dark clouds, as though night had fled and left pieces of itself behind. He sat beneath a tree at the top of a hill and stared toward the horizon; let the cool breeze wash away the worries of the day. Below, in the little pocket of a valley where the trail wound through, his companions were starting a fire and spreading blankets where they would sleep for the night.
Sure, there was always the chance of running into the occasional bandit, or a bear, but he preferred sleeping out in the open, these nights, rather than in the smoky, stifling homes crammed together in the villages that marked the road between Galilee and Jerusalem. He let his head rest against the rough bark of the tree and breathed deeply of the cool, clean air.
Then a twig snapped and his eyes were suddenly open and alert, looking toward the sound. Almost instantly, they relaxed as they fell on the familiar form and face of the Teacher. He put one hand down next to himself, started to get up -- stopped when the Teacher looked down at him and shook his head slightly. Instead, the Teacher sat down next to him and nodded toward the valley; he relaxed, and laid his head back again.
"So, Thomas -- what happened today?" the Teacher asked, his voice gentle as his eyes.
Thomas turned his eyes toward the Teacher without moving his head, until he could see him out of the corners, looking almost sideways. He hesitated and then admitted frankly, "I don't know." Then he smiled, shrugged slightly. "But then, I often don't, until you've explained it to us."
"You're learning -- you're all learning. But there is much to learn and little time."
Thomas frowned; he didn't like it when the Teacher spoke like that. As often as he was confused by what the man said, he was all too sure about what the Teacher meant when he talked about time being short… and it made him uncomfortable to know the what without understanding the why -- if there was one.
"Do you understand leprosy?" the Teacher asked.
Thomas shrugged. "I don't know anyone who's had it, of course. But I know it's a sickness that attacks your body and makes you inhuman, unclean."
"It's more than just a painful, shameful sickness -- it's more like a wall," the Teacher said, his face drawn down in a frown as he spoke. "It's a wall that's thrown up overnight, from the moment it's discovered, separating the leper from his family, from his home, and from his livelihood. When a man becomes a leper, he becomes unclean, and when he's unclean he's cut off from everything he ever held dear, from everything that completed him as a man. A man with leprosy is separated from who he could be, by what he's become."
Thomas nodded in the dimming light. "It's a tragic illness."
"That's why the Samaritan was so full of praise when he returned. It was as though I had opened a gate through that wall by healing him -- in any real sense of the word, I had given him his life back."
"I can see that," Thomas said slowly. "I think I understand. But then why did only the Samaritan return?"
It was the Teacher's turn to shrug. "Who can say?"
Thomas raised his head, then, and looked at him -- smiled as he met his eyes. "Not I, Teacher -- but I'm pretty sure you can."
The Teacher reflected his smile, nodded. "Perhaps it was because he was already an outsider, so he had a deeper appreciation of the pain of being apart from having a whole life. Or perhaps it was because he is not as closely tied to the priests of the Temple as the others, and was willing to give thanks outside the walls of the Temple. Perhaps he recognized that he could give thanks to the Father through me and did not have to be in the Temple to do it."
Thomas studied the Teacher for a few moments -- his expression was harder to see, now, in the gloom. "Teacher," he said slowly, "it is times like this that my head begins to hurt."
Another smile flickered in the shadows. "I'll leave you with this thought, then. Consider that sin is like leprosy -- it disfigures men, makes them less than what they could be, and it cuts them off from the completeness of being in harmony with the Father. And now the Son of Man offers a chance to be cleansed, a chance to be healed -- a way through the wall of sin, back into harmony with the Father, just as the leper who is cleansed of his disease can rejoin life."
The Teacher stood up, then, leaned down and stretched his hand to Thomas as he continued. "Like healing, forgiveness is there for anyone who has faith -- perhaps it's right that an outsider should be the first to praise God for it. Perhaps it was easiest for him to recognize what it meant to have the chance to go home again."
He grasped Thomas' hand, pulled him up easily. They stood face-to-face for a moment, then, hands clasped -- and it seemed to Thomas that the Teacher's grip held him tightly. "Know this, Thomas -- I've come to take on their burdens, and to share the gift of forgiveness with all men… but only those who are blessed with faith and truly understand their own nature, their own brokenness, will understand the power of forgiveness to make them whole, to bring them back to the Father again."
Thomas looked back at him steadily. "I think I understand."
The Teacher looked at him closely, nodded, and released his grip. "You begin to understand," he agreed, "but you have questions." Then he smiled. "With you, Thomas, there are always questions."
And so the two men continued to talk as they descended the hill, rejoining their companions in the valley.
Keith Hewitt is the author of two volumes of NaTiVity Dramas: Nontraditional Christmas Plays for All Ages (CSS). He is a lay speaker, co-youth leader, and former Sunday school teacher at Wilmot United Methodist Church in Wilmot, Wisconsin. He lives in southeastern Wisconsin with his wife and two children, and works in the IT department at a major public safety testing organization.
God Is Faithful to Godself
Richard A. Jensen
2 Timothy 2:8-15
His hands were surely trembling as he lifted his hammer to nail his theses to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany. The year was 1517. The man was Martin Luther. Luther had lived through many a crisis in his personal relationship to God. Out of his struggles he came to believe that much of what his church had taught him was simply wrong. It was wrong teaching that had caused his faith crisis.
Luther decided to go on the offensive. The topic for his offensive was the matter of ''indulgences.'' The Christian church at the time of Luther believed that sins committed after one was baptized that were not specifically forgiven would have to be paid off in purgatory. Purgatory was understood to be the place where souls lived after their death and before their resurrection. An indulgence from the church freed one from punishment in purgatory for a prescribed number of sins. Luther accepted some of this belief, but he was enraged when he discovered that the church was actually selling ''full indulgences'' to people while asking nothing from them in terms of repentance and new life. This Luther protested. He nailed his 95 Theses for debate on the matter to the Castle Church door.
Think about this! One man. One man stands up to challenge a fundamental teaching of his church. Who did he think he was anyway? What gave him the courage to carry out his convictions in this way?
Thanks to the new media of print, Luther's 95 Theses were spread all over Europe. The church was not pleased. They tried to curb Luther in a variety of ways. They even declared him to be excommunicated from the church. The matter came to a head several years later in a meeting held in the city of Worms, Germany. The meeting was called a ''Diet.'' It was a meeting of none other than the Holy Roman Empire that governed most of Europe in those days. It was presided over by the Emperor, Charles V, himself. Before this incredible display of political and churchly power Luther was asked two questions. All of his writings were placed on a table in the center of the room. ''Did you write these books?'' he was asked. And a second question: ''Would he recant any of what he had written?''
Luther was forced into a corner. The answer he gave is perhaps the best known words he ever spoke. He would not recant. ''Here I stand,'' he said finally. ''I can do no other. God help me! Amen.''
Again we ask: How could one man have the courage of convictions so that he might stand against the Holy Catholic church and the Holy Roman Empire? Luther, himself, gives us an answer to our question. A year later he preached a series of sermons in his home church in Wittenberg. To the question, ''How did you do this?'' Luther replies, ''I did nothing.'' Here are his words: ''I simply taught, preached, and wrote God's Word; otherwise I did nothing. And while I slept or drank Wittenberg beer with my friends Philip and Amsdorf, the Word so greatly weakened the papacy that no prince or emperor ever inflicted such losses upon it. I did nothing; the Word did everything!''
What gave Luther his courage? His confidence was in the word and promises of God. He simply believed that God is always faithful to God's promises. God cannot deny Godself. Even though we be faithless, God will be faithful. That's where Luther stood!
(from Richard, Jensen, Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit, 57 Stories For Cycle C [Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Co.], 1994)
**************
StoryShare, October 10, 2010, issue.
Copyright 2010 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
"The Outsider" by Keith Hewitt
"God Is Faithful to Godself" by Richard Jensen
* * * * * * * * *
The gospels are a reflection of a life in tiny bits, like beads of moments strung on a wire. Blessed -- or burdened -- with the responsibility of sharing the life and times of the Messiah, the writers of the gospels were limited to sharing only glimpses of that life, put together for the purpose of illustrating some teaching or some pivotal moment in his ministry. In "The Outsider," Keith Hewitt imagines one of the many moments in between -- a moment of rest and reflection on the day's events. But still a teachable moment…
* * *
The Outsider
Keith Hewitt
Luke 17:11-19
This was his favorite time of day. The sun was low, dipping behind the hills, and the sky was pearly gray mottled with dark clouds, as though night had fled and left pieces of itself behind. He sat beneath a tree at the top of a hill and stared toward the horizon; let the cool breeze wash away the worries of the day. Below, in the little pocket of a valley where the trail wound through, his companions were starting a fire and spreading blankets where they would sleep for the night.
Sure, there was always the chance of running into the occasional bandit, or a bear, but he preferred sleeping out in the open, these nights, rather than in the smoky, stifling homes crammed together in the villages that marked the road between Galilee and Jerusalem. He let his head rest against the rough bark of the tree and breathed deeply of the cool, clean air.
Then a twig snapped and his eyes were suddenly open and alert, looking toward the sound. Almost instantly, they relaxed as they fell on the familiar form and face of the Teacher. He put one hand down next to himself, started to get up -- stopped when the Teacher looked down at him and shook his head slightly. Instead, the Teacher sat down next to him and nodded toward the valley; he relaxed, and laid his head back again.
"So, Thomas -- what happened today?" the Teacher asked, his voice gentle as his eyes.
Thomas turned his eyes toward the Teacher without moving his head, until he could see him out of the corners, looking almost sideways. He hesitated and then admitted frankly, "I don't know." Then he smiled, shrugged slightly. "But then, I often don't, until you've explained it to us."
"You're learning -- you're all learning. But there is much to learn and little time."
Thomas frowned; he didn't like it when the Teacher spoke like that. As often as he was confused by what the man said, he was all too sure about what the Teacher meant when he talked about time being short… and it made him uncomfortable to know the what without understanding the why -- if there was one.
"Do you understand leprosy?" the Teacher asked.
Thomas shrugged. "I don't know anyone who's had it, of course. But I know it's a sickness that attacks your body and makes you inhuman, unclean."
"It's more than just a painful, shameful sickness -- it's more like a wall," the Teacher said, his face drawn down in a frown as he spoke. "It's a wall that's thrown up overnight, from the moment it's discovered, separating the leper from his family, from his home, and from his livelihood. When a man becomes a leper, he becomes unclean, and when he's unclean he's cut off from everything he ever held dear, from everything that completed him as a man. A man with leprosy is separated from who he could be, by what he's become."
Thomas nodded in the dimming light. "It's a tragic illness."
"That's why the Samaritan was so full of praise when he returned. It was as though I had opened a gate through that wall by healing him -- in any real sense of the word, I had given him his life back."
"I can see that," Thomas said slowly. "I think I understand. But then why did only the Samaritan return?"
It was the Teacher's turn to shrug. "Who can say?"
Thomas raised his head, then, and looked at him -- smiled as he met his eyes. "Not I, Teacher -- but I'm pretty sure you can."
The Teacher reflected his smile, nodded. "Perhaps it was because he was already an outsider, so he had a deeper appreciation of the pain of being apart from having a whole life. Or perhaps it was because he is not as closely tied to the priests of the Temple as the others, and was willing to give thanks outside the walls of the Temple. Perhaps he recognized that he could give thanks to the Father through me and did not have to be in the Temple to do it."
Thomas studied the Teacher for a few moments -- his expression was harder to see, now, in the gloom. "Teacher," he said slowly, "it is times like this that my head begins to hurt."
Another smile flickered in the shadows. "I'll leave you with this thought, then. Consider that sin is like leprosy -- it disfigures men, makes them less than what they could be, and it cuts them off from the completeness of being in harmony with the Father. And now the Son of Man offers a chance to be cleansed, a chance to be healed -- a way through the wall of sin, back into harmony with the Father, just as the leper who is cleansed of his disease can rejoin life."
The Teacher stood up, then, leaned down and stretched his hand to Thomas as he continued. "Like healing, forgiveness is there for anyone who has faith -- perhaps it's right that an outsider should be the first to praise God for it. Perhaps it was easiest for him to recognize what it meant to have the chance to go home again."
He grasped Thomas' hand, pulled him up easily. They stood face-to-face for a moment, then, hands clasped -- and it seemed to Thomas that the Teacher's grip held him tightly. "Know this, Thomas -- I've come to take on their burdens, and to share the gift of forgiveness with all men… but only those who are blessed with faith and truly understand their own nature, their own brokenness, will understand the power of forgiveness to make them whole, to bring them back to the Father again."
Thomas looked back at him steadily. "I think I understand."
The Teacher looked at him closely, nodded, and released his grip. "You begin to understand," he agreed, "but you have questions." Then he smiled. "With you, Thomas, there are always questions."
And so the two men continued to talk as they descended the hill, rejoining their companions in the valley.
Keith Hewitt is the author of two volumes of NaTiVity Dramas: Nontraditional Christmas Plays for All Ages (CSS). He is a lay speaker, co-youth leader, and former Sunday school teacher at Wilmot United Methodist Church in Wilmot, Wisconsin. He lives in southeastern Wisconsin with his wife and two children, and works in the IT department at a major public safety testing organization.
God Is Faithful to Godself
Richard A. Jensen
2 Timothy 2:8-15
His hands were surely trembling as he lifted his hammer to nail his theses to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany. The year was 1517. The man was Martin Luther. Luther had lived through many a crisis in his personal relationship to God. Out of his struggles he came to believe that much of what his church had taught him was simply wrong. It was wrong teaching that had caused his faith crisis.
Luther decided to go on the offensive. The topic for his offensive was the matter of ''indulgences.'' The Christian church at the time of Luther believed that sins committed after one was baptized that were not specifically forgiven would have to be paid off in purgatory. Purgatory was understood to be the place where souls lived after their death and before their resurrection. An indulgence from the church freed one from punishment in purgatory for a prescribed number of sins. Luther accepted some of this belief, but he was enraged when he discovered that the church was actually selling ''full indulgences'' to people while asking nothing from them in terms of repentance and new life. This Luther protested. He nailed his 95 Theses for debate on the matter to the Castle Church door.
Think about this! One man. One man stands up to challenge a fundamental teaching of his church. Who did he think he was anyway? What gave him the courage to carry out his convictions in this way?
Thanks to the new media of print, Luther's 95 Theses were spread all over Europe. The church was not pleased. They tried to curb Luther in a variety of ways. They even declared him to be excommunicated from the church. The matter came to a head several years later in a meeting held in the city of Worms, Germany. The meeting was called a ''Diet.'' It was a meeting of none other than the Holy Roman Empire that governed most of Europe in those days. It was presided over by the Emperor, Charles V, himself. Before this incredible display of political and churchly power Luther was asked two questions. All of his writings were placed on a table in the center of the room. ''Did you write these books?'' he was asked. And a second question: ''Would he recant any of what he had written?''
Luther was forced into a corner. The answer he gave is perhaps the best known words he ever spoke. He would not recant. ''Here I stand,'' he said finally. ''I can do no other. God help me! Amen.''
Again we ask: How could one man have the courage of convictions so that he might stand against the Holy Catholic church and the Holy Roman Empire? Luther, himself, gives us an answer to our question. A year later he preached a series of sermons in his home church in Wittenberg. To the question, ''How did you do this?'' Luther replies, ''I did nothing.'' Here are his words: ''I simply taught, preached, and wrote God's Word; otherwise I did nothing. And while I slept or drank Wittenberg beer with my friends Philip and Amsdorf, the Word so greatly weakened the papacy that no prince or emperor ever inflicted such losses upon it. I did nothing; the Word did everything!''
What gave Luther his courage? His confidence was in the word and promises of God. He simply believed that God is always faithful to God's promises. God cannot deny Godself. Even though we be faithless, God will be faithful. That's where Luther stood!
(from Richard, Jensen, Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit, 57 Stories For Cycle C [Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Co.], 1994)
**************
StoryShare, October 10, 2010, issue.
Copyright 2010 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
