Reasons For Rules
Stories
Object:
Contents
What's Up This Week
"Reasons for Rules" by Larry Winebrenner
"Simple Faith" by Craig Kelly
"Foolish Strength" by Larry Winebrenner
"Cassandra's Meditation" by Larry Winebrenner
"A New Passover" by John Smiley
"The Tomb" by Larry Winebrenner
What's Up This Week
The world can be very complex -- and if we let it, that can be true of the Christian faith as well. But in feature stories of this edition of StoryShare, Larry Winebrenner and Craig Kelly provide dramatic depictions of how children sometimes have a gift for cutting through all sorts of rules and historical arguments and boiling our faith down to its most essential understanding: that God loves us and cares for us. Larry Winebrenner also shares an intriguing account of a "difficult" pastoral visit, and John Smiley spins the tale of an animal-loving young man who witnesses Jesus' tirade in the temple courtyard.
* * * * * * * * *
Reasons for Rules
by Larry Winebrenner
Exodus 20:1-17
Andy was only nine years old, but already he had memorized the rules posted in Poppa's workshop. He had his own set of goggles to wear when power machinery was in use. He always looked to see if anything would be in danger if he turned the power to the machine on -- especially fingers!
Poppa was fond of telling his safety story. Andy had heard it a million times and didn't think it was really funny, but he laughed dutifully anyway. Poppa said a man was trying to explain to his boss how he had lost a finger.
"The man said, ‘I just set the board on the bandsaw table and pushed it like this -- oops! There goes another finger.' "
While Andy didn't think it was funny, he did realize Poppa was trying to impress on him the importance of safety.
"Your rules are like the Ten Commandments," he told Poppa one day.
"No," said Poppa. "My rules don't punish you for breaking them. They save you from harm."
"That's what the Ten Commandments do," said Andy.
Poppa picked up some sawed-off ends of boards from the floor and placed them in the trash barrel. One of his rules was "Keep your workspace clear of trash. It might cause you to trip and fall against a power tool." Poppa answered Andy's statement with a question. "How about the first commandment? I know you're supposed to do it. But how does having no other gods before the Lord save me from harm?"
"Well," drawled Andy, "s'pose you made money your god -- then you got sick and all your money couldn't get you well."
"Then I'd pray to the Lord," said Poppa.
"You reckon God'd listen after you'd been worshiping money instead?"
"God didn't promise to listen to me if I worship only the Lord," huffed Poppa.
"We weren't talking about promises, Poppa," said Andy gently. He didn't want to get Poppa mad. "We were just talking about how your rules were like the Ten Commandments, how they helped you not get hurt. Besides, there's only one commandment with a promise."
"What's that?" asked Poppa.
"Honor your father and your mother, so that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you. I honor you, Poppa."
The adult took off the nail apron he was wearing and carefully hung it on a hook. "Come on, son," he said, tousling Andy's hair. "You reminded me of something. I haven't seen Dad in a month of Sundays. Let's go see if he'd like to go to the ice cream shop and get a shake."
Larry Winebrenner is now retired and living in Miami Gardens, Florida. He taught for 33 years at Miami-Dade Community College, and served as pastor of churches in Georgia, Florida, Indiana, and Wisconsin. Larry is currently active at First United Methodist Church in downtown Miami, where he leads discussion in an adult fellowship group on Sunday mornings and preaches occasionally. He has authored two college textbooks, written four novels, served as an editor for three newspapers and an academic journal, and contributed articles to several magazines.
Simple Faith
by Craig Kelly
1 Corinthians 1:18-25
For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God's weakness is stronger than human strength.
-- 1 Corinthians 1:22-25
"Look, it's only going to be a week or two, just until Mrs. Wilson gets back on her feet," he said with an apologetic look.
Janine leaned forward in her chair. "I still don't understand why you're asking me, Pastor," she said. "I've never worked with kids. I work with seminary students throughout the week, and granted, sometimes I think some of them belong back in kindergarten, but actually working with kindergarten kids...."
The pastor nodded. "I know, I know, Janine. You do a great job, by the way. That Biblical Doctrine class of yours I audited last quarter was very insightful."
Janine held up a hand. "Now, now, Pastor, I didn't think you'd resort to flattery to try to get me to agree to this."
"You see now how desperate I am?" the pastor pleaded. "I tried getting one of the parents to teach the class, but I got stonewalled at every turn. You're my only hope, Janine."
Janine sat back, letting out a sigh. Well, it probably couldn't be worse than teaching a bunch of seminary students, I suppose. "All right, Pastor, but just for a week or two. Deal?"
The pastor enthusiastically extended his hand across his desk. "Deal!"
Janine thanked the pastor and returned home, back to the stack of essays that still needed to be graded: "Reinterpreting the Crucifixion." She cast a defeated look at the essays on her desk, made a cup of instant coffee, and sat down with her pen.
That Sunday, Janine arrived at the church early, making her way to the classrooms in the church basement. According to the note left by the teacher, this Sunday's class was covering Jesus' prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane. Okay, no problem. Just tell them what Jesus said, sing a song or two, and say a prayer. Cut and dried. Janine looked around and found the picture Bible the teacher used. She turned to John and found the passage, complete with a picture of a serene Jesus kneeling down by a rock with his eyes looking up to heaven. Looks pretty calm for a guy about to be tortured and killed, she thought.
Slowly the kindergarten class started filtering into the room. Of course, to a five-year-old, slowly means not tackling each other in a desperate attempt to be the first to the finish line. As they took their seats around the long white table, their various conversations began to grow in volume as each child decided the best way to participate was to talk louder than everyone else in the room. This continued until Anna, a dark-haired girl sitting next to Janine, contributed to the discussion by shouting in her loudest possible voice, "At school, I saw Mark pick his nose and eat it!"
This, of course, caused all the class to erupt into roaring laughter -- all except Mark, who turned five shades of red and looked like he wanted to crawl under the table until he was 21.
Janine decided small-talk time was over. "Okay, everyone, I don't care who ate what, but it's time to get started."
This caused Nathan, a small red-haired, freckle-faced boy at the other end of the table, to look at Janine with a quizzical look and ask, "Who are you? Where's Mrs. Wilson? We like her."
Well, that's a nice way to be welcomed. "My name is Miss Forrest, and I will be teaching you today because Mrs. Wilson had to have her gall bladder removed, but she'll be back soon."
"What's a gall bladder?" asked Jason, who was dressed in his favorite soccer jersey. Must be a jock.
"It's, uh, something in your body that filters out bad stuff," Janine replied.
"Ew, sounds gross. Yuck," Anna said, followed by loud choking and hacking sounds.
"Okay, on that note, why don't we get started?" Janine said. She started talking about Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, how he had just finished the Last Supper, telling his disciples how he was about to be betrayed, tortured, and killed. She opened the picture Bible and read them the account of Jesus' prayer, how he desired this fate to pass from him, yet remained determined to follow the will of his Father. She turned the book around every so often to show the kids the pictures of the garden and of Jesus.
Hey, this isn't going too badly. I might get through this yet.
Just when it looked like Janine was about to get through the lesson, a hand went up. It was Mark, the kid who had been embarrassed at the beginning of the class.
Oh, great. "Yes, Mark?" she said, trying to smile.
"Miss Forrest, why did Jesus have to die on the cross?" All eyes turned to Janine.
Well, let's see, she thought. McKinney thought it was just a tragic end orchestrated by the Jewish ruling class to maintain power. Jamison doesn't think the gospel account is accurate, but grew out of propaganda against the Jews. Marcus believed that it was the inevitable result of a world resistant to change that such a radical teacher would die. But how would I explain any of this to a kindergarten class?
Janine was surprised to hear a chuckle from Jason, the jock.
"That's easy," he said. "God told him to die on the cross ‘cause he loves us. He said that Jesus had to come back to life so we can go to heaven. He couldn't come back to life if he wasn't dead! Duh!"
Matt's face flushed red again. "Is that true, Miss Forrest?"
Janine sat there for a moment, thinking. All the interpretations, all the theories, it all came down to Christ on the cross, showing us how much he loves us.
"Um, yeah, I guess that's about it," she finally said.
A week later, Mrs. Wilson was back in the kindergarten class, a little tired and tender, but none the worse. As she began to teach the class, she was surprised to see Janine sitting in the back of the room.
"Professor Forrest, what brings you here?" she asked. "If you're afraid I might not be up to teaching the class, the doctor told me I could be out and about now. I appreciate you being all concerned about me, but really..."
Janine held up a hand. "Mrs. Wilson, I'm sure you're more than able to handle the class," she said, smiling. "The reason I'm here is because I want to know what else I can learn."
Mrs. Wilson smiled. "All right, then." With that, she opened her picture Bible and began to teach.
Craig Kelly writes copy for CSS Publishing Company in Lima, Ohio. Hesitant to call himself an aspiring freelance writer, he is a self-proclaimed "dabbler" in writing.
Foolish Strength
by Larry Winebrenner
1 Corinthians 1:18-25
One day the Lord looked at the earth God had created. Noting a long, flat rock mountain, the Lord said, "What a wonderful place to make a deep gorge."
The band of angels surrounding the Lord looked at the site of the proposed gorge. They had no doubt that God could do it. "You going to speak to it and split it open?" asked Gabriel, the only angel bold enough to question the Lord.
"No," said God. "I'm just going to let this little trickle of water run across the surface and sculpt it for me."
A little trickle of water? The angels looked at each other knowingly. In time the water might wear away a mighty ditch on the side of the mountain. But a sculpture? It sounded foolish to them. But they were only angels. They carried messages and did tasks for God. They didn't really know about changing the landscape of the earth or changing the stony hearts of humans.
More than six million earth years later the first human creatures came across the spot God had been examining. They crept to the edge and peered over. It was a gorgeous gorge, a vast canyon. Below, at the very bottom, was what appeared to be a tiny stream. It was in fact a mighty river, a raging river in its season. The sound of rushing wind and roaring water became familiar features of this place the humans settled. The foolishness of God became the great Grand Canyon.
Six million years after the trickle of water had been set on its way over the Colorado plateau, God viewed a different kind of rock in another part of the world.
"That man of Tarsus has great abilities I can use," God told his band of angels.
"But Lord," cried Gabriel without thinking, "that man's heart is like flint. He's intent on destroying your people. It would be foolish to depend on that man." Then Gabriel placed his hand over his mouth and waited for the Lord to annihilate him.
"Yes," said the Lord. "But I will foolishly show him how much he will suffer for me. And one day, he will write to the church he will found that the foolishness of God is wiser than the wisdom of humans."
Then the Lord turned, looked at Gabriel, and smiled. God added, "And of angels, Gabriel -- than the wisdom of the angels."
Cassandra's Meditation
by Larry Winebrenner
Psalm 19
She has gone on to her eternal reward, and her name wasn't really Cassandra. I use it to protect her privacy.
I had been asked to substitute for a pastor with cancer. The first thing I did when I went to the church was to visit the pastor. "I was never much one to visit members," he told me. "But one person you need to visit is Cassandra."
Cassandra was in a nursing home. The first week I stopped by to see her was an exhausting experience! Cassandra couldn't talk but that didn't stop her. She carried on a running conversation the entire half hour I was there. Nor was it one-sided. I had to listen carefully to her and respond correctly. If not, she hit me with the same comment, the same phrase, the same question until I responded properly. I would have read a few verses, mumbled a quick prayer, and fled in the first five minutes. I just couldn't find a graceful way to do so.
Finally, she asked me to read from the Bible. Aha! A chance to escape. What kind of scam had that preacher pulled, anyway? He was lying in his hospital bed laughing his head off, I just knew.
I started to read a passage I had chosen when Cassandra said the one word she clearly enunciated: "No!"
"You don't want me to read from the Bible?" I asked fearfully. "Lord," I prayed, "not another round of ‘conversation.' "
She did want me to read -- Psalm 19.
As I read about nature, which had no words, praising God, I thought I knew why this psalm was one she loved. Then, a new insight came as I read, "Keep back your servant also from the insolent." I guessed those serving her needs were as reluctant to be with her as I had been. No wonder she clung to the one person obligated to stay and talk with her.
Then I came to the passage that revealed it all. I read the psalmist's final words, so important in this un-speaking woman's life: "Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer."
Larry Winebrenner is a retired pastor and college teacher who lives in Miami Gardens, Florida.
A New Passover
by John Smiley
John 2:13-22
I grew up in the Galilee region, just a little east of Nazareth. My town was a lot busier than Nazareth .We lived on the trade route, and so we were exposed to lots of Roman soldiers. My family was Jewish, and though we couldn't make the trip to Jerusalem for every Passover we did make it as often as we could. My father was a stonemason, so he was always working on houses and roads, and occasionally he'd even make something fancy, a decoration for a building.
I enjoyed the trips down to Jerusalem. What I really liked best about going there during the Passover was the opportunity to walk around the outside of the temple and see all the animals. They were such amazing animals, not like the animals we had at the synagogue in my community. They had beautiful turtledoves, magnificent goats, and if I could only describe to you the beauty of the bulls. Every year that we went to Jerusalem for Passover… that was what I wanted to do most… I always wanted to go to the temple and see the animals.
It's a long walk from the Galilee region down to Jerusalem, but it's a walk that I enjoy every time we get to make it. First we head west, walk down the mountain to the Sea of Galilee, and then we follow the Jordan River all the way down to Jericho. It's good walking along the river, for whenever you get hot you can cool off with a drink or a little dip. We would have such wonderful conversations about all the things we would do in Jerusalem for the Passover. And on the way my father would always talk to us about the meaning of Passover and why as Jewish people it meant so much to us. He reminded us how when we were slaves in Egypt the Jews were passed over -- how the houses that were marked with a sign given to Moses were spared the death of their firstborn. He told us of the plagues that came upon the Egyptians and how the firstborn of all the Egyptians were slaughtered in a single night.
On the way we would talk about the foods we wanted to eat when we were in the city. We would talk about visiting relatives and were reminded about the kind of behavior we were expected to have. It was one of those wonderful times that are rare in the midst of the busyness of stonecutting and cooking and everyday life. As I mentioned earlier, whenever I had the opportunity to tell about what I was looking forward to most I talked about the animals that were on the outer edges of the temple. I've always been attracted to animals -- in fact, when I grow up I think I'd like to care for animals. That doesn't mean I want to be a shepherd, but perhaps there's a way that I can help farmers who have animals take care of their flocks. I think that would be a good way to make a living. I'd especially like to work with cattle; there's just something about their way that has always appealed to me. Perhaps it's the milk that they give, and of course it is always a tremendous blessing when the beef from a bull enriches our table.
The last part of the journey was always the most difficult. After spending a few days in Jericho, we would make the ascent from well below sea level to the great city Jerusalem. On the Mount of Olives we would stop amidst the olive trees to gaze at the golden city whose walls glistened in the sun. From the Mount of Olives we could see the temple mount, and if the wind was blowing just right we could hear the cries of the animals and the voices of the people -- the sounds of the city, sounds of life and death.
On this particular Passover we decided to sleep in an olive grove on the Mount of Olives. Many pilgrims were there. There was some excitement among us because nearby, camping near us, was the one named Jesus and his disciples. I'd heard of Jesus; there were stories about him having visited our region… stories of how some of the fishermen from Galilee followed him, leaving their nets behind them. There were stories of how he wandered throughout the land and how lepers were healed, the blind were made to see, the deaf could hear, and the lame walk. I couldn't believe that he was right by us camping there with his disciples. I so wanted to sneak over in the night and listen to the conversation, but I was too afraid -- and besides, Father had given us strict orders to stay right where we were. He didn't want us to be a bother to the others on the hillside.
All of us woke up early the next day as we prepared to make our journey to the temple mount. As it turned out I did get to see Jesus, because he and his disciples were walking right in front of us as we descended the hill of the Mount of Olives and then climbed the hill that would lead us to the stairs and the pools for washing on the south side of the city. We listened to them talking and I could hear Jesus becoming agitated, which surprised me. He seemed disturbed about something, and it was only moments later that I saw something I'll never forget. There amidst the cattle and sheep and doves and the moneychangers, something burst out of him. Looking back on that moment I'm not sure if he was angry or deeply wounded, but I know he felt overwhelmed with a kind of fierce passion. I'd heard that Jesus was a man of peace -- then I saw him make a whip of cords and begin swinging it around his head, lashing out at all those who were selling the cattle and sheep and doves. Cages of doves fell over and the doves burst forth and flew over the city, then sheep became frightened and began to run, and then the cattle (particularly the bulls) started charging through the temple mount, down the stairs, and out into the valley.
The chaos around him was immense. Leaders from the temple began to run toward him. Angry words were spoken, and the disciples gathered round him trying to protect him from those who would have his blood. Who did he think he was?, they asked. What right did he have to cause such chaos? And he told those who questioned him and those who were running toward him, "Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father's house a marketplace!"
Answering their charges -- confronting their questioning of his authority -- he said, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." It was insane. The beauty of Passover felt disrupted by the prophet Jesus. The doves and sheep and cattle that I so long to visit with and admire scattered from the temple mount, and I found myself in tears crying at the chaos.
Father kept silent, putting his arms around me and the rest of our family as he ushered us away. He knew something beyond our understanding and even our imagining happened that day -- we all did. It was more than just whips and chaos and animals on the run and doves flying over the city. Something more was happening; the Passover was coming to an end. At least, the Passover as we knew it. Deep within us we all knew that Jesus was right, that our religious system had become a place of commerce, that our temples had become designed for profit rather than worship. Our rituals were more about pleasing our own needs than honoring the God who liberated us at the time of our greatest need.
I've thought a lot about that day, and it seems to me that moment will always remain as a reminder to every worshiping community to make sure that we get it right. Jesus was right to challenge the system, to overturn the tables of the moneychangers, and to set free the animals. And Jesus is right when he comes into our communities through his messengers and through his prophets to his people, because he taught us that day that the temple is more than a building and worshiping God is more than ritual. Everything we are and everything we do and every aspect of our life needs to be consistent, congruent, and designed to honor the one who made us.
It was only a few days later while we were on our way back to our home that we heard that Jesus had been nailed to a cross. We then heard that the tomb he was buried in was empty and that he was alive.
John Smylie is the rector of St. Mark's Episcopal Church in Casper, Wyoming. Previously he served as the dean of the Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist in Spokane, Washington. He is a published author and storyteller as well as a singer-songwriter. Smylie recently completed Grace for Today, a collection of 25 stories that explores how grace, loss, and restoration are part of the same fabric.
The Tomb
by Larry Winebrenner
John 2:13-22
If you go online and type "tombs" in Google's search window, you'll discover over ten million references. One site that shows up again and again is one about the greatest and most significant tombs in history.
That's a far-reaching claim, and the treatment is impressive. Photographs of the tombs as they appear today and a short blurb about each is included on the site. The ten tombs on the list are:
* Mausoleum at Halicarnassus (Turkey)
* Hadrian's Tomb (Rome)
* Lenin's Tomb (Red Square, Moscow)
* Taj Mahal (Agra, India)
* Grant's Tomb (New York)
* Pantheon (Rome)
* Westminster Abbey (London)
* Saint Peter's Basilica (Vatican City, Rome)
* Tomb of Cyrus the Great (Iran)
* Great Pyramid of Giza (Egypt)
Admittedly, that's an outstanding list. It is, however, strongly biased in favor of Western culture. Where, for example, is the army of 2,200-year-old terra-cotta soldiers, including more than 8,000 life-size ceramic soldiers, chariots, and horses buried there to protect the tomb of the first Qin emperor?
And how about King Tut's tomb? Wasn't that an outstanding example and of great significance? The burial mounds of Native Americans are not mentioned. And who these days dares to leave out the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier?
One left out of the list, probably because it wasn't a tomb afterward, was Jesus' tomb. There was no tomb that could hold Jesus. As he told the temple authorities, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up."
They didn't understand. Neither did the disciples.
Then.
After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this.
No. It was not a tomb for Jesus -- just a temporary resting place.
Larry Winebrenner is a retired pastor and college teacher who lives in Miami Gardens, Florida.
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StoryShare, March 15, 2009, issue.
Copyright 2009 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., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
What's Up This Week
"Reasons for Rules" by Larry Winebrenner
"Simple Faith" by Craig Kelly
"Foolish Strength" by Larry Winebrenner
"Cassandra's Meditation" by Larry Winebrenner
"A New Passover" by John Smiley
"The Tomb" by Larry Winebrenner
What's Up This Week
The world can be very complex -- and if we let it, that can be true of the Christian faith as well. But in feature stories of this edition of StoryShare, Larry Winebrenner and Craig Kelly provide dramatic depictions of how children sometimes have a gift for cutting through all sorts of rules and historical arguments and boiling our faith down to its most essential understanding: that God loves us and cares for us. Larry Winebrenner also shares an intriguing account of a "difficult" pastoral visit, and John Smiley spins the tale of an animal-loving young man who witnesses Jesus' tirade in the temple courtyard.
* * * * * * * * *
Reasons for Rules
by Larry Winebrenner
Exodus 20:1-17
Andy was only nine years old, but already he had memorized the rules posted in Poppa's workshop. He had his own set of goggles to wear when power machinery was in use. He always looked to see if anything would be in danger if he turned the power to the machine on -- especially fingers!
Poppa was fond of telling his safety story. Andy had heard it a million times and didn't think it was really funny, but he laughed dutifully anyway. Poppa said a man was trying to explain to his boss how he had lost a finger.
"The man said, ‘I just set the board on the bandsaw table and pushed it like this -- oops! There goes another finger.' "
While Andy didn't think it was funny, he did realize Poppa was trying to impress on him the importance of safety.
"Your rules are like the Ten Commandments," he told Poppa one day.
"No," said Poppa. "My rules don't punish you for breaking them. They save you from harm."
"That's what the Ten Commandments do," said Andy.
Poppa picked up some sawed-off ends of boards from the floor and placed them in the trash barrel. One of his rules was "Keep your workspace clear of trash. It might cause you to trip and fall against a power tool." Poppa answered Andy's statement with a question. "How about the first commandment? I know you're supposed to do it. But how does having no other gods before the Lord save me from harm?"
"Well," drawled Andy, "s'pose you made money your god -- then you got sick and all your money couldn't get you well."
"Then I'd pray to the Lord," said Poppa.
"You reckon God'd listen after you'd been worshiping money instead?"
"God didn't promise to listen to me if I worship only the Lord," huffed Poppa.
"We weren't talking about promises, Poppa," said Andy gently. He didn't want to get Poppa mad. "We were just talking about how your rules were like the Ten Commandments, how they helped you not get hurt. Besides, there's only one commandment with a promise."
"What's that?" asked Poppa.
"Honor your father and your mother, so that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you. I honor you, Poppa."
The adult took off the nail apron he was wearing and carefully hung it on a hook. "Come on, son," he said, tousling Andy's hair. "You reminded me of something. I haven't seen Dad in a month of Sundays. Let's go see if he'd like to go to the ice cream shop and get a shake."
Larry Winebrenner is now retired and living in Miami Gardens, Florida. He taught for 33 years at Miami-Dade Community College, and served as pastor of churches in Georgia, Florida, Indiana, and Wisconsin. Larry is currently active at First United Methodist Church in downtown Miami, where he leads discussion in an adult fellowship group on Sunday mornings and preaches occasionally. He has authored two college textbooks, written four novels, served as an editor for three newspapers and an academic journal, and contributed articles to several magazines.
Simple Faith
by Craig Kelly
1 Corinthians 1:18-25
For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God's weakness is stronger than human strength.
-- 1 Corinthians 1:22-25
"Look, it's only going to be a week or two, just until Mrs. Wilson gets back on her feet," he said with an apologetic look.
Janine leaned forward in her chair. "I still don't understand why you're asking me, Pastor," she said. "I've never worked with kids. I work with seminary students throughout the week, and granted, sometimes I think some of them belong back in kindergarten, but actually working with kindergarten kids...."
The pastor nodded. "I know, I know, Janine. You do a great job, by the way. That Biblical Doctrine class of yours I audited last quarter was very insightful."
Janine held up a hand. "Now, now, Pastor, I didn't think you'd resort to flattery to try to get me to agree to this."
"You see now how desperate I am?" the pastor pleaded. "I tried getting one of the parents to teach the class, but I got stonewalled at every turn. You're my only hope, Janine."
Janine sat back, letting out a sigh. Well, it probably couldn't be worse than teaching a bunch of seminary students, I suppose. "All right, Pastor, but just for a week or two. Deal?"
The pastor enthusiastically extended his hand across his desk. "Deal!"
Janine thanked the pastor and returned home, back to the stack of essays that still needed to be graded: "Reinterpreting the Crucifixion." She cast a defeated look at the essays on her desk, made a cup of instant coffee, and sat down with her pen.
That Sunday, Janine arrived at the church early, making her way to the classrooms in the church basement. According to the note left by the teacher, this Sunday's class was covering Jesus' prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane. Okay, no problem. Just tell them what Jesus said, sing a song or two, and say a prayer. Cut and dried. Janine looked around and found the picture Bible the teacher used. She turned to John and found the passage, complete with a picture of a serene Jesus kneeling down by a rock with his eyes looking up to heaven. Looks pretty calm for a guy about to be tortured and killed, she thought.
Slowly the kindergarten class started filtering into the room. Of course, to a five-year-old, slowly means not tackling each other in a desperate attempt to be the first to the finish line. As they took their seats around the long white table, their various conversations began to grow in volume as each child decided the best way to participate was to talk louder than everyone else in the room. This continued until Anna, a dark-haired girl sitting next to Janine, contributed to the discussion by shouting in her loudest possible voice, "At school, I saw Mark pick his nose and eat it!"
This, of course, caused all the class to erupt into roaring laughter -- all except Mark, who turned five shades of red and looked like he wanted to crawl under the table until he was 21.
Janine decided small-talk time was over. "Okay, everyone, I don't care who ate what, but it's time to get started."
This caused Nathan, a small red-haired, freckle-faced boy at the other end of the table, to look at Janine with a quizzical look and ask, "Who are you? Where's Mrs. Wilson? We like her."
Well, that's a nice way to be welcomed. "My name is Miss Forrest, and I will be teaching you today because Mrs. Wilson had to have her gall bladder removed, but she'll be back soon."
"What's a gall bladder?" asked Jason, who was dressed in his favorite soccer jersey. Must be a jock.
"It's, uh, something in your body that filters out bad stuff," Janine replied.
"Ew, sounds gross. Yuck," Anna said, followed by loud choking and hacking sounds.
"Okay, on that note, why don't we get started?" Janine said. She started talking about Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, how he had just finished the Last Supper, telling his disciples how he was about to be betrayed, tortured, and killed. She opened the picture Bible and read them the account of Jesus' prayer, how he desired this fate to pass from him, yet remained determined to follow the will of his Father. She turned the book around every so often to show the kids the pictures of the garden and of Jesus.
Hey, this isn't going too badly. I might get through this yet.
Just when it looked like Janine was about to get through the lesson, a hand went up. It was Mark, the kid who had been embarrassed at the beginning of the class.
Oh, great. "Yes, Mark?" she said, trying to smile.
"Miss Forrest, why did Jesus have to die on the cross?" All eyes turned to Janine.
Well, let's see, she thought. McKinney thought it was just a tragic end orchestrated by the Jewish ruling class to maintain power. Jamison doesn't think the gospel account is accurate, but grew out of propaganda against the Jews. Marcus believed that it was the inevitable result of a world resistant to change that such a radical teacher would die. But how would I explain any of this to a kindergarten class?
Janine was surprised to hear a chuckle from Jason, the jock.
"That's easy," he said. "God told him to die on the cross ‘cause he loves us. He said that Jesus had to come back to life so we can go to heaven. He couldn't come back to life if he wasn't dead! Duh!"
Matt's face flushed red again. "Is that true, Miss Forrest?"
Janine sat there for a moment, thinking. All the interpretations, all the theories, it all came down to Christ on the cross, showing us how much he loves us.
"Um, yeah, I guess that's about it," she finally said.
A week later, Mrs. Wilson was back in the kindergarten class, a little tired and tender, but none the worse. As she began to teach the class, she was surprised to see Janine sitting in the back of the room.
"Professor Forrest, what brings you here?" she asked. "If you're afraid I might not be up to teaching the class, the doctor told me I could be out and about now. I appreciate you being all concerned about me, but really..."
Janine held up a hand. "Mrs. Wilson, I'm sure you're more than able to handle the class," she said, smiling. "The reason I'm here is because I want to know what else I can learn."
Mrs. Wilson smiled. "All right, then." With that, she opened her picture Bible and began to teach.
Craig Kelly writes copy for CSS Publishing Company in Lima, Ohio. Hesitant to call himself an aspiring freelance writer, he is a self-proclaimed "dabbler" in writing.
Foolish Strength
by Larry Winebrenner
1 Corinthians 1:18-25
One day the Lord looked at the earth God had created. Noting a long, flat rock mountain, the Lord said, "What a wonderful place to make a deep gorge."
The band of angels surrounding the Lord looked at the site of the proposed gorge. They had no doubt that God could do it. "You going to speak to it and split it open?" asked Gabriel, the only angel bold enough to question the Lord.
"No," said God. "I'm just going to let this little trickle of water run across the surface and sculpt it for me."
A little trickle of water? The angels looked at each other knowingly. In time the water might wear away a mighty ditch on the side of the mountain. But a sculpture? It sounded foolish to them. But they were only angels. They carried messages and did tasks for God. They didn't really know about changing the landscape of the earth or changing the stony hearts of humans.
More than six million earth years later the first human creatures came across the spot God had been examining. They crept to the edge and peered over. It was a gorgeous gorge, a vast canyon. Below, at the very bottom, was what appeared to be a tiny stream. It was in fact a mighty river, a raging river in its season. The sound of rushing wind and roaring water became familiar features of this place the humans settled. The foolishness of God became the great Grand Canyon.
Six million years after the trickle of water had been set on its way over the Colorado plateau, God viewed a different kind of rock in another part of the world.
"That man of Tarsus has great abilities I can use," God told his band of angels.
"But Lord," cried Gabriel without thinking, "that man's heart is like flint. He's intent on destroying your people. It would be foolish to depend on that man." Then Gabriel placed his hand over his mouth and waited for the Lord to annihilate him.
"Yes," said the Lord. "But I will foolishly show him how much he will suffer for me. And one day, he will write to the church he will found that the foolishness of God is wiser than the wisdom of humans."
Then the Lord turned, looked at Gabriel, and smiled. God added, "And of angels, Gabriel -- than the wisdom of the angels."
Cassandra's Meditation
by Larry Winebrenner
Psalm 19
She has gone on to her eternal reward, and her name wasn't really Cassandra. I use it to protect her privacy.
I had been asked to substitute for a pastor with cancer. The first thing I did when I went to the church was to visit the pastor. "I was never much one to visit members," he told me. "But one person you need to visit is Cassandra."
Cassandra was in a nursing home. The first week I stopped by to see her was an exhausting experience! Cassandra couldn't talk but that didn't stop her. She carried on a running conversation the entire half hour I was there. Nor was it one-sided. I had to listen carefully to her and respond correctly. If not, she hit me with the same comment, the same phrase, the same question until I responded properly. I would have read a few verses, mumbled a quick prayer, and fled in the first five minutes. I just couldn't find a graceful way to do so.
Finally, she asked me to read from the Bible. Aha! A chance to escape. What kind of scam had that preacher pulled, anyway? He was lying in his hospital bed laughing his head off, I just knew.
I started to read a passage I had chosen when Cassandra said the one word she clearly enunciated: "No!"
"You don't want me to read from the Bible?" I asked fearfully. "Lord," I prayed, "not another round of ‘conversation.' "
She did want me to read -- Psalm 19.
As I read about nature, which had no words, praising God, I thought I knew why this psalm was one she loved. Then, a new insight came as I read, "Keep back your servant also from the insolent." I guessed those serving her needs were as reluctant to be with her as I had been. No wonder she clung to the one person obligated to stay and talk with her.
Then I came to the passage that revealed it all. I read the psalmist's final words, so important in this un-speaking woman's life: "Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer."
Larry Winebrenner is a retired pastor and college teacher who lives in Miami Gardens, Florida.
A New Passover
by John Smiley
John 2:13-22
I grew up in the Galilee region, just a little east of Nazareth. My town was a lot busier than Nazareth .We lived on the trade route, and so we were exposed to lots of Roman soldiers. My family was Jewish, and though we couldn't make the trip to Jerusalem for every Passover we did make it as often as we could. My father was a stonemason, so he was always working on houses and roads, and occasionally he'd even make something fancy, a decoration for a building.
I enjoyed the trips down to Jerusalem. What I really liked best about going there during the Passover was the opportunity to walk around the outside of the temple and see all the animals. They were such amazing animals, not like the animals we had at the synagogue in my community. They had beautiful turtledoves, magnificent goats, and if I could only describe to you the beauty of the bulls. Every year that we went to Jerusalem for Passover… that was what I wanted to do most… I always wanted to go to the temple and see the animals.
It's a long walk from the Galilee region down to Jerusalem, but it's a walk that I enjoy every time we get to make it. First we head west, walk down the mountain to the Sea of Galilee, and then we follow the Jordan River all the way down to Jericho. It's good walking along the river, for whenever you get hot you can cool off with a drink or a little dip. We would have such wonderful conversations about all the things we would do in Jerusalem for the Passover. And on the way my father would always talk to us about the meaning of Passover and why as Jewish people it meant so much to us. He reminded us how when we were slaves in Egypt the Jews were passed over -- how the houses that were marked with a sign given to Moses were spared the death of their firstborn. He told us of the plagues that came upon the Egyptians and how the firstborn of all the Egyptians were slaughtered in a single night.
On the way we would talk about the foods we wanted to eat when we were in the city. We would talk about visiting relatives and were reminded about the kind of behavior we were expected to have. It was one of those wonderful times that are rare in the midst of the busyness of stonecutting and cooking and everyday life. As I mentioned earlier, whenever I had the opportunity to tell about what I was looking forward to most I talked about the animals that were on the outer edges of the temple. I've always been attracted to animals -- in fact, when I grow up I think I'd like to care for animals. That doesn't mean I want to be a shepherd, but perhaps there's a way that I can help farmers who have animals take care of their flocks. I think that would be a good way to make a living. I'd especially like to work with cattle; there's just something about their way that has always appealed to me. Perhaps it's the milk that they give, and of course it is always a tremendous blessing when the beef from a bull enriches our table.
The last part of the journey was always the most difficult. After spending a few days in Jericho, we would make the ascent from well below sea level to the great city Jerusalem. On the Mount of Olives we would stop amidst the olive trees to gaze at the golden city whose walls glistened in the sun. From the Mount of Olives we could see the temple mount, and if the wind was blowing just right we could hear the cries of the animals and the voices of the people -- the sounds of the city, sounds of life and death.
On this particular Passover we decided to sleep in an olive grove on the Mount of Olives. Many pilgrims were there. There was some excitement among us because nearby, camping near us, was the one named Jesus and his disciples. I'd heard of Jesus; there were stories about him having visited our region… stories of how some of the fishermen from Galilee followed him, leaving their nets behind them. There were stories of how he wandered throughout the land and how lepers were healed, the blind were made to see, the deaf could hear, and the lame walk. I couldn't believe that he was right by us camping there with his disciples. I so wanted to sneak over in the night and listen to the conversation, but I was too afraid -- and besides, Father had given us strict orders to stay right where we were. He didn't want us to be a bother to the others on the hillside.
All of us woke up early the next day as we prepared to make our journey to the temple mount. As it turned out I did get to see Jesus, because he and his disciples were walking right in front of us as we descended the hill of the Mount of Olives and then climbed the hill that would lead us to the stairs and the pools for washing on the south side of the city. We listened to them talking and I could hear Jesus becoming agitated, which surprised me. He seemed disturbed about something, and it was only moments later that I saw something I'll never forget. There amidst the cattle and sheep and doves and the moneychangers, something burst out of him. Looking back on that moment I'm not sure if he was angry or deeply wounded, but I know he felt overwhelmed with a kind of fierce passion. I'd heard that Jesus was a man of peace -- then I saw him make a whip of cords and begin swinging it around his head, lashing out at all those who were selling the cattle and sheep and doves. Cages of doves fell over and the doves burst forth and flew over the city, then sheep became frightened and began to run, and then the cattle (particularly the bulls) started charging through the temple mount, down the stairs, and out into the valley.
The chaos around him was immense. Leaders from the temple began to run toward him. Angry words were spoken, and the disciples gathered round him trying to protect him from those who would have his blood. Who did he think he was?, they asked. What right did he have to cause such chaos? And he told those who questioned him and those who were running toward him, "Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father's house a marketplace!"
Answering their charges -- confronting their questioning of his authority -- he said, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." It was insane. The beauty of Passover felt disrupted by the prophet Jesus. The doves and sheep and cattle that I so long to visit with and admire scattered from the temple mount, and I found myself in tears crying at the chaos.
Father kept silent, putting his arms around me and the rest of our family as he ushered us away. He knew something beyond our understanding and even our imagining happened that day -- we all did. It was more than just whips and chaos and animals on the run and doves flying over the city. Something more was happening; the Passover was coming to an end. At least, the Passover as we knew it. Deep within us we all knew that Jesus was right, that our religious system had become a place of commerce, that our temples had become designed for profit rather than worship. Our rituals were more about pleasing our own needs than honoring the God who liberated us at the time of our greatest need.
I've thought a lot about that day, and it seems to me that moment will always remain as a reminder to every worshiping community to make sure that we get it right. Jesus was right to challenge the system, to overturn the tables of the moneychangers, and to set free the animals. And Jesus is right when he comes into our communities through his messengers and through his prophets to his people, because he taught us that day that the temple is more than a building and worshiping God is more than ritual. Everything we are and everything we do and every aspect of our life needs to be consistent, congruent, and designed to honor the one who made us.
It was only a few days later while we were on our way back to our home that we heard that Jesus had been nailed to a cross. We then heard that the tomb he was buried in was empty and that he was alive.
John Smylie is the rector of St. Mark's Episcopal Church in Casper, Wyoming. Previously he served as the dean of the Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist in Spokane, Washington. He is a published author and storyteller as well as a singer-songwriter. Smylie recently completed Grace for Today, a collection of 25 stories that explores how grace, loss, and restoration are part of the same fabric.
The Tomb
by Larry Winebrenner
John 2:13-22
If you go online and type "tombs" in Google's search window, you'll discover over ten million references. One site that shows up again and again is one about the greatest and most significant tombs in history.
That's a far-reaching claim, and the treatment is impressive. Photographs of the tombs as they appear today and a short blurb about each is included on the site. The ten tombs on the list are:
* Mausoleum at Halicarnassus (Turkey)
* Hadrian's Tomb (Rome)
* Lenin's Tomb (Red Square, Moscow)
* Taj Mahal (Agra, India)
* Grant's Tomb (New York)
* Pantheon (Rome)
* Westminster Abbey (London)
* Saint Peter's Basilica (Vatican City, Rome)
* Tomb of Cyrus the Great (Iran)
* Great Pyramid of Giza (Egypt)
Admittedly, that's an outstanding list. It is, however, strongly biased in favor of Western culture. Where, for example, is the army of 2,200-year-old terra-cotta soldiers, including more than 8,000 life-size ceramic soldiers, chariots, and horses buried there to protect the tomb of the first Qin emperor?
And how about King Tut's tomb? Wasn't that an outstanding example and of great significance? The burial mounds of Native Americans are not mentioned. And who these days dares to leave out the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier?
One left out of the list, probably because it wasn't a tomb afterward, was Jesus' tomb. There was no tomb that could hold Jesus. As he told the temple authorities, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up."
They didn't understand. Neither did the disciples.
Then.
After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this.
No. It was not a tomb for Jesus -- just a temporary resting place.
Larry Winebrenner is a retired pastor and college teacher who lives in Miami Gardens, Florida.
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StoryShare, March 15, 2009, issue.
Copyright 2009 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., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
