In The Wilderness
Stories
Object:
Contents
"In the Wilderness" by Peter Andrew Smith
"Something to Believe In" by Sandra Herrmann
In the Wilderness
by Peter Andrew Smith
Luke 4:1-13
Sid wandered into the hotel restaurant and picked up the menu. He wasn’t really hungry at this late hour but there was nothing on television and nothing for him to do until the morning. He took a seat and considered his choices.
“What’s good?” he asked the waiter.
“Pretty much everything.” The waiter pointed at a few selections. “Personally I like the fried platter or the burger with the works.”
Sid scanned the options. “I think I’ll go with the chicken sandwich.”
“Fries with that or a salad?”
Sid thought for a moment. Carolyn was onto him about his weight and he knew he didn’t need the calories. “Salad.”
“And to drink?” the waiter asked. “We’ve got a fully stocked bar so you can have whatever you want.”
Sid looked over at the bottles behind the counter. He wasn’t driving anywhere and Carolyn wasn’t there to get upset and tell him he had a problem with alcohol. Sure he might have drunk too much when he was younger but that was years ago. Sid thought it over. Maybe after his meal he would have something.
“Just water please.”
“Sure.” The waiter took the menu. “Maybe I can tempt you later.”
Sid gave him a weak smile. He wondered if maybe he’d made a mistake coming down here. It was just that upstairs with the internet access and nothing to do, he had thought about going to some of those sites that the guys at work were always talking about. He would never think of it at home with Carolyn and the children around but here there was no reason for him not to see what all the fuss was about. He sighed. He was at a religious conference, a gathering of people talking about church and God. The session today had been inspiring and uplifting. Why was he now thinking about all the things he shouldn’t be doing?
The waiter arrived with his drink. “Your sandwich will just be a minute.”
“Thanks.”
“You mind if I ask you a question? Things are slow here.”
“Sure.” Sid gestured to the empty chair across from him.
The waiter sat. “Are you with the Christian conference group?”
“I am.” Sid nodded. “It’s been a great gathering.”
“The delegates have certainly been enthusiastic.” The waiter paused. “Are you a pastor?”
Sid shook his head. “No, just an ordinary Christian.”
“Oh. You mind if I ask you a question anyway?”
“Not at all.”
“How do you resist temptation?” The waiter gestured around him. “Working here and working nights I see people at their lowest. Hurting people who have tried to drown their pain with booze or drugs. Lonely people who will do anything to not be by themselves. I get offers pretty much every night for things that I know I shouldn’t do.”
“And do you give in?”
“Sometimes.” The waiter looked down. “I don’t like myself when I do.”
“I hear you.” Sid took a deep breath. “To resist temptation I make sure I read the Bible and pray regularly. That keeps me focussed on knowing what’s right and wrong.”
“What about the things that are hard to resist?”
Sid thought for a few moments. “Having someone to talk to is a great help.”
The waiter scratched his head. “You mean like a friend I could confide in?”
“Someone to keep you honest. To remind you of forgiveness and grace but also to not accept excuses.”
“I think I know someone who could do that,” the waiter said.
“A friend your age?”
“Yeah.”
Sid shook his head. “That might be okay but I think sometimes friends don’t challenge us enough. And sometimes that is what we need when we are facing temptation. Someone who isn’t afraid to call something wrong a sin.”
“I never thought of it that way.” The waiter paused. “Maybe my grandmother. She’s a good listener, a straight shooter, and the best Christian I know.”
Sid smiled. “I think if you can talk to her about what happens here she’ll help you for certain.”
“Your sandwich should be ready.” The waiter stood up. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” Sid stood up as well. “Can I get it to go? I think I’d like to call my wife before it gets too late.”
“No problem.”
Sid went to the counter and realized that the words he shared with the waiter were actually what he needed to hear tonight. A call home and some honest conversation with Carolyn about how lonely he was being away, then some time reading the Bible and some time in prayer was what Sid needed to keep living the life Jesus called him to lead as a Christian.
Peter Andrew Smith is an ordained minister in the United Church of Canada currently serving St. James United Church in Antigonish, Nova Scotia. He is the author of All Things are Ready (CSS) a book of lectionary based communion prayers and a number of stories and articles, which can be found listed at www.peterandrewsmith.com.
* * *
Something to Believe In
by Sandra Herrmann
Deuteronomy 26:1-11
“Tom! How are you, man?” The tall, shaggy-haired man held out his arms, and Tom smiled.
“Doing OK, Musa.” He leaned into the hug he was offered, and embraced his friend. “And you are well, I can tell,” he said, looking Musa up and down. When the two men had first met, Musa was wearing what amounted to a college uniform: khakis and a plaid shirt over a T-shirt. But today, he was wearing a long-sleeved pale shirt and matching pants. And a new beard.
Musa wrapped an arm around Tom’s shoulder. “Come with me to the coffee shop. I have all sorts of news to share.” As they walked along, Musa related his story.
“I have just returned from Jordan.” He sighed and shook his head sadly. “What a mess my homeland is in. There are 18,000 Syrian refugees right on Jordan’s border with Syria, in a desert area, lacking any of the comforts of a home. It is just too much for our government to handle quickly, and the U.N. is pushing them to move faster than is possible. We are supplying them with food and water, but it takes time to make space for so many.” Musa shook his head wearily. “This is where I have been for the last month.”
Tom frowned in confusion. “What, you skipped class for that length of time?”
Musa nodded. “I told them that my family was in trouble, and that I may have to drop out until next year. They have given me an extension on all of my work so that I might be able to catch up.”
“But you don’t have family in Jordan any more, do you? I thought your parents and brothers and sisters were all here in the United States?”
“Oh, right. I forget how small your concept of family is. The truth is, I have many cousins, aunts and uncles, plus the families they married into. When one of us is in trouble, we can count on all the relatives to gather around to help us. That’s what I was doing ? helping my aunts and uncles build new beds so they can take in some of the refugees. That’s the way Islam works.”
Tom was quiet until they had their coffees and crispy cookies and were seated in the café.
“You are being very thoughtful, my friend,” Musa commented.
Tom sat up straighter and sipped his coffee, then added more cream to it. “Any time we talk, I feel that I’m lacking so much that you have. Your very different idea of family, for example. My aunts and uncles are scattered around this country, and if they were to come for a visit, they’d have a place to stay with us for a few days, but your family is taking in refugees, who are bound to live with them for a long time.”
Musa laughed. “Yes, a very long time, in your way of thinking. Months, in fact. But your parents would not take in a family member if she were in trouble? If she lost her home, as the Syrians have?”
Tom slumped a little. “No, we wouldn’t. My mother has her career, and she wouldn’t be able to just drop everything to look after her sister, even though she might want to. And my Dad travels so much with his job, he couldn’t do much to pick up the load.”
“But hospitality demands this care of others. Have you never read the Bible? Exodus 23:9 says ‘You shall not oppress a resident alien; you know the heart of an alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt.’”
“Really? You know the Old Testament?”
“Yes, of course. We consider the Bible to be our book as well as the Quran. Your prophets are our prophets, too.” Musa smiled benignly at Tom’s look of confusion. “We are all people of the book, friend Tom, all Jews, Christians and Muslims.” He reached into his knapsack and pulled out a leather-bound book with designs in gold on the cover, opened it and began to read aloud.
At last, Tom said, “No, I’ve never read any of that stuff. I haven’t been to church since I was confirmed, and in Sunday School we got a bunch of stories about people like Abraham and Sarah and Samson and Delilah, like that. And, of course, stories about Jesus healing people. I personally liked the story about Jesus turning water into wine.” He grinned as he said this, leaning back in his chair.
Musa handed Tom a Quran. It, too, was in a beautiful binding, with gold on the cover and the edges of the pages. Tom started to look inside it, but Musa stopped him.
“When you read this book, my friend, you must first pray. Then you wash your hands, so you don’t damage the paper. I will help you understand what it says.”
Tom stiffened. “I’m sure I can read it for myself.”
“Of course,” Musa leaned back in his chair. “I did not intend to offend you. I can see my eagerness to get the Quran into your heart has made me push too hard.” He placed his hand on his own chest. “I apologize. Please forgive me.”
Tom relented. There was no reason for him to offend Musa. It was just that he didn’t want him to think he was completely ignorant about his own faith. Though as he thought over this conversation later, he realized that he was ignorant about his own faith. He said as much to Musa one day a few weeks later. Musa grinned, his teeth gleaming in his newly-grown beard. “We are careful to educate our boys in the ways of Allah, both at the mosque and at home. Parents take a major role in teaching their children about the requirements of the Law.”
“The Law.”
“Yes, Sharia Law. There are certain things that are required of a man, and these are all written down. If you break the Law, there is swift and certain punishment. But he must also be kind to his wives and children, and it is required of a government that everyone in a Muslim caliphate be safe, fed and sheltered. To have beggars in the street is a shameful thing. If you would like to see how this works, you could come with me to Jordan in a few weeks, and from there to the caliphate. You could go with me.”
“I don’t have a passport.”
“No problem, I can help speed up the process. I know some people.”
Tom stared down at his toes. Should he? Or not? It would certainly let him see for himself what his friend was talking about. He’d always wanted to travel. He also wanted . . . He wasn’t sure, it sounded stupid to say “inner peace.” But say it he did, and Musa smiled broadly.
“Of course you want inner peace. There is nothing stupid about that! Islam is constructed on five pillars just so a man can find peace.” Musa held up his left hand, and pointed at one finger at a time. “We believe in the Oneness of God, and that the purpose of our life is to obey and serve God. We pray daily, at least five times a day; and in Muslim cities, we do not have to hide this, the call to prayer is sounded, and everyone stops what they are doing and bows down to God. This reminds us of our need of God. We also fast regularly to purify ourselves. We care for the needy, not just on certain holidays, but all year. And then the fifth pillar is to travel to Mecca, if we are able, at least once in our lifetime. Everyone knows what is required for happiness. No one makes fun of you for being religious, not like here.”
Tom wondered why he felt so strange, listening to his friend. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that what he had been looking for was a creed to believe in. He wasn’t sure about Islam, but he was sure about his friend, and so he agreed to make the trip. He applied for a passport and visa, with Musa’s help, and three weeks later they were on their way. Tom kept scratching at his new beard.
“I realize that every new thing takes getting used to, but does a new beard always itch like this?” he asked, as they sat down in the plane. Musa just laughed. “You’ll get used to it.”
When they landed in Jordan, Musa led Tom over to a Humvee parked near the terminal door. “Tom, these are my friends. They are going to escort us to the caliphate, and help get you oriented.” The three men in the Humvee were heavily bearded, but they all smiled and shook Tom’s hand.
“Welcome to your new family!” they said as the driver pulled onto the highway.
Tom’s parents never saw him again.
Sandra Herrmann is pastor of Memorial United Methodist Church in Greenfield, Wisconsin. In 1980, she was in the first class ordained by Bishop Marjorie Matthews (the first female United Methodist bishop). Herrmann is the author of Ambassadors of Hope (CSS); her articles and sermons have also appeared in Emphasis and The Circuit Rider, and her poetry has been published in Alive Now and So's Your Old Lady. She has trained lay speakers and led workshops and Bible studies throughout Wisconsin, Iowa, and Indiana. Sandra's favorite pastime is reading with her two dogs piled on her.
*****************************************
StoryShare, February 14, 2016, issue.
Copyright 2015 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.
"In the Wilderness" by Peter Andrew Smith
"Something to Believe In" by Sandra Herrmann
In the Wilderness
by Peter Andrew Smith
Luke 4:1-13
Sid wandered into the hotel restaurant and picked up the menu. He wasn’t really hungry at this late hour but there was nothing on television and nothing for him to do until the morning. He took a seat and considered his choices.
“What’s good?” he asked the waiter.
“Pretty much everything.” The waiter pointed at a few selections. “Personally I like the fried platter or the burger with the works.”
Sid scanned the options. “I think I’ll go with the chicken sandwich.”
“Fries with that or a salad?”
Sid thought for a moment. Carolyn was onto him about his weight and he knew he didn’t need the calories. “Salad.”
“And to drink?” the waiter asked. “We’ve got a fully stocked bar so you can have whatever you want.”
Sid looked over at the bottles behind the counter. He wasn’t driving anywhere and Carolyn wasn’t there to get upset and tell him he had a problem with alcohol. Sure he might have drunk too much when he was younger but that was years ago. Sid thought it over. Maybe after his meal he would have something.
“Just water please.”
“Sure.” The waiter took the menu. “Maybe I can tempt you later.”
Sid gave him a weak smile. He wondered if maybe he’d made a mistake coming down here. It was just that upstairs with the internet access and nothing to do, he had thought about going to some of those sites that the guys at work were always talking about. He would never think of it at home with Carolyn and the children around but here there was no reason for him not to see what all the fuss was about. He sighed. He was at a religious conference, a gathering of people talking about church and God. The session today had been inspiring and uplifting. Why was he now thinking about all the things he shouldn’t be doing?
The waiter arrived with his drink. “Your sandwich will just be a minute.”
“Thanks.”
“You mind if I ask you a question? Things are slow here.”
“Sure.” Sid gestured to the empty chair across from him.
The waiter sat. “Are you with the Christian conference group?”
“I am.” Sid nodded. “It’s been a great gathering.”
“The delegates have certainly been enthusiastic.” The waiter paused. “Are you a pastor?”
Sid shook his head. “No, just an ordinary Christian.”
“Oh. You mind if I ask you a question anyway?”
“Not at all.”
“How do you resist temptation?” The waiter gestured around him. “Working here and working nights I see people at their lowest. Hurting people who have tried to drown their pain with booze or drugs. Lonely people who will do anything to not be by themselves. I get offers pretty much every night for things that I know I shouldn’t do.”
“And do you give in?”
“Sometimes.” The waiter looked down. “I don’t like myself when I do.”
“I hear you.” Sid took a deep breath. “To resist temptation I make sure I read the Bible and pray regularly. That keeps me focussed on knowing what’s right and wrong.”
“What about the things that are hard to resist?”
Sid thought for a few moments. “Having someone to talk to is a great help.”
The waiter scratched his head. “You mean like a friend I could confide in?”
“Someone to keep you honest. To remind you of forgiveness and grace but also to not accept excuses.”
“I think I know someone who could do that,” the waiter said.
“A friend your age?”
“Yeah.”
Sid shook his head. “That might be okay but I think sometimes friends don’t challenge us enough. And sometimes that is what we need when we are facing temptation. Someone who isn’t afraid to call something wrong a sin.”
“I never thought of it that way.” The waiter paused. “Maybe my grandmother. She’s a good listener, a straight shooter, and the best Christian I know.”
Sid smiled. “I think if you can talk to her about what happens here she’ll help you for certain.”
“Your sandwich should be ready.” The waiter stood up. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” Sid stood up as well. “Can I get it to go? I think I’d like to call my wife before it gets too late.”
“No problem.”
Sid went to the counter and realized that the words he shared with the waiter were actually what he needed to hear tonight. A call home and some honest conversation with Carolyn about how lonely he was being away, then some time reading the Bible and some time in prayer was what Sid needed to keep living the life Jesus called him to lead as a Christian.
Peter Andrew Smith is an ordained minister in the United Church of Canada currently serving St. James United Church in Antigonish, Nova Scotia. He is the author of All Things are Ready (CSS) a book of lectionary based communion prayers and a number of stories and articles, which can be found listed at www.peterandrewsmith.com.
* * *
Something to Believe In
by Sandra Herrmann
Deuteronomy 26:1-11
“Tom! How are you, man?” The tall, shaggy-haired man held out his arms, and Tom smiled.
“Doing OK, Musa.” He leaned into the hug he was offered, and embraced his friend. “And you are well, I can tell,” he said, looking Musa up and down. When the two men had first met, Musa was wearing what amounted to a college uniform: khakis and a plaid shirt over a T-shirt. But today, he was wearing a long-sleeved pale shirt and matching pants. And a new beard.
Musa wrapped an arm around Tom’s shoulder. “Come with me to the coffee shop. I have all sorts of news to share.” As they walked along, Musa related his story.
“I have just returned from Jordan.” He sighed and shook his head sadly. “What a mess my homeland is in. There are 18,000 Syrian refugees right on Jordan’s border with Syria, in a desert area, lacking any of the comforts of a home. It is just too much for our government to handle quickly, and the U.N. is pushing them to move faster than is possible. We are supplying them with food and water, but it takes time to make space for so many.” Musa shook his head wearily. “This is where I have been for the last month.”
Tom frowned in confusion. “What, you skipped class for that length of time?”
Musa nodded. “I told them that my family was in trouble, and that I may have to drop out until next year. They have given me an extension on all of my work so that I might be able to catch up.”
“But you don’t have family in Jordan any more, do you? I thought your parents and brothers and sisters were all here in the United States?”
“Oh, right. I forget how small your concept of family is. The truth is, I have many cousins, aunts and uncles, plus the families they married into. When one of us is in trouble, we can count on all the relatives to gather around to help us. That’s what I was doing ? helping my aunts and uncles build new beds so they can take in some of the refugees. That’s the way Islam works.”
Tom was quiet until they had their coffees and crispy cookies and were seated in the café.
“You are being very thoughtful, my friend,” Musa commented.
Tom sat up straighter and sipped his coffee, then added more cream to it. “Any time we talk, I feel that I’m lacking so much that you have. Your very different idea of family, for example. My aunts and uncles are scattered around this country, and if they were to come for a visit, they’d have a place to stay with us for a few days, but your family is taking in refugees, who are bound to live with them for a long time.”
Musa laughed. “Yes, a very long time, in your way of thinking. Months, in fact. But your parents would not take in a family member if she were in trouble? If she lost her home, as the Syrians have?”
Tom slumped a little. “No, we wouldn’t. My mother has her career, and she wouldn’t be able to just drop everything to look after her sister, even though she might want to. And my Dad travels so much with his job, he couldn’t do much to pick up the load.”
“But hospitality demands this care of others. Have you never read the Bible? Exodus 23:9 says ‘You shall not oppress a resident alien; you know the heart of an alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt.’”
“Really? You know the Old Testament?”
“Yes, of course. We consider the Bible to be our book as well as the Quran. Your prophets are our prophets, too.” Musa smiled benignly at Tom’s look of confusion. “We are all people of the book, friend Tom, all Jews, Christians and Muslims.” He reached into his knapsack and pulled out a leather-bound book with designs in gold on the cover, opened it and began to read aloud.
At last, Tom said, “No, I’ve never read any of that stuff. I haven’t been to church since I was confirmed, and in Sunday School we got a bunch of stories about people like Abraham and Sarah and Samson and Delilah, like that. And, of course, stories about Jesus healing people. I personally liked the story about Jesus turning water into wine.” He grinned as he said this, leaning back in his chair.
Musa handed Tom a Quran. It, too, was in a beautiful binding, with gold on the cover and the edges of the pages. Tom started to look inside it, but Musa stopped him.
“When you read this book, my friend, you must first pray. Then you wash your hands, so you don’t damage the paper. I will help you understand what it says.”
Tom stiffened. “I’m sure I can read it for myself.”
“Of course,” Musa leaned back in his chair. “I did not intend to offend you. I can see my eagerness to get the Quran into your heart has made me push too hard.” He placed his hand on his own chest. “I apologize. Please forgive me.”
Tom relented. There was no reason for him to offend Musa. It was just that he didn’t want him to think he was completely ignorant about his own faith. Though as he thought over this conversation later, he realized that he was ignorant about his own faith. He said as much to Musa one day a few weeks later. Musa grinned, his teeth gleaming in his newly-grown beard. “We are careful to educate our boys in the ways of Allah, both at the mosque and at home. Parents take a major role in teaching their children about the requirements of the Law.”
“The Law.”
“Yes, Sharia Law. There are certain things that are required of a man, and these are all written down. If you break the Law, there is swift and certain punishment. But he must also be kind to his wives and children, and it is required of a government that everyone in a Muslim caliphate be safe, fed and sheltered. To have beggars in the street is a shameful thing. If you would like to see how this works, you could come with me to Jordan in a few weeks, and from there to the caliphate. You could go with me.”
“I don’t have a passport.”
“No problem, I can help speed up the process. I know some people.”
Tom stared down at his toes. Should he? Or not? It would certainly let him see for himself what his friend was talking about. He’d always wanted to travel. He also wanted . . . He wasn’t sure, it sounded stupid to say “inner peace.” But say it he did, and Musa smiled broadly.
“Of course you want inner peace. There is nothing stupid about that! Islam is constructed on five pillars just so a man can find peace.” Musa held up his left hand, and pointed at one finger at a time. “We believe in the Oneness of God, and that the purpose of our life is to obey and serve God. We pray daily, at least five times a day; and in Muslim cities, we do not have to hide this, the call to prayer is sounded, and everyone stops what they are doing and bows down to God. This reminds us of our need of God. We also fast regularly to purify ourselves. We care for the needy, not just on certain holidays, but all year. And then the fifth pillar is to travel to Mecca, if we are able, at least once in our lifetime. Everyone knows what is required for happiness. No one makes fun of you for being religious, not like here.”
Tom wondered why he felt so strange, listening to his friend. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that what he had been looking for was a creed to believe in. He wasn’t sure about Islam, but he was sure about his friend, and so he agreed to make the trip. He applied for a passport and visa, with Musa’s help, and three weeks later they were on their way. Tom kept scratching at his new beard.
“I realize that every new thing takes getting used to, but does a new beard always itch like this?” he asked, as they sat down in the plane. Musa just laughed. “You’ll get used to it.”
When they landed in Jordan, Musa led Tom over to a Humvee parked near the terminal door. “Tom, these are my friends. They are going to escort us to the caliphate, and help get you oriented.” The three men in the Humvee were heavily bearded, but they all smiled and shook Tom’s hand.
“Welcome to your new family!” they said as the driver pulled onto the highway.
Tom’s parents never saw him again.
Sandra Herrmann is pastor of Memorial United Methodist Church in Greenfield, Wisconsin. In 1980, she was in the first class ordained by Bishop Marjorie Matthews (the first female United Methodist bishop). Herrmann is the author of Ambassadors of Hope (CSS); her articles and sermons have also appeared in Emphasis and The Circuit Rider, and her poetry has been published in Alive Now and So's Your Old Lady. She has trained lay speakers and led workshops and Bible studies throughout Wisconsin, Iowa, and Indiana. Sandra's favorite pastime is reading with her two dogs piled on her.
*****************************************
StoryShare, February 14, 2016, issue.
Copyright 2015 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.
