Sellers in the Temples (cont'd)

Sellers in the Temples (cont'd)

      

       by Bubba Reimer

Remember, I said that I had seen Jesus in a temple myself? Well, I mean it. I say it again. I did see Him and I touched Him with my own hands. To my shame, like Thomas, I asked Him to show me His wounds. He smiled and shook His head a little sadly at my doubtage but obliged and I saw His nail holes. So, how can this be, you wonder; if this guy is telling the truth I am a horse's ass. If he is not telling the truth the last thing I want is to be sucked in by his story and then be disappointed later. We do not want to be disappointed in something as stupendous as seeing Jesus alive, now do we? Some of you shyer ones are nodding, but most of you are waiting to see what I will do to prove this outrageousness. It's as simple as apple pie and I will explain myself.   

       All of you are doubters much like Thomas was, let me tell you. You are all sinning right now, refusing to allow the possibility in.  But, that is the nature of mankind, isn't it? We are all, Jesus told us, sinners, and that is why He was sent to us, to save us from our own unwillingness to believe. But listen to me! Yes! He is alive! Yes, He lives today! I have seen Him with my own eyes, praise God! Glory, hallelujah, God be praised! I saw Him, and my soul rejoices that once despaired! I saw Him and my heart is free and light! Ladies, gentlemen, only believe and you, too, will be freed of your longings to see the invisible. To experience the Lord in living flesh. You will once more, maybe for the first time since you were a little child, love the earth and all that it produces. You will love it with such innocence that no great sadness will ever again infest your senses, infect your mental arteries and shut down your psychological vital systems. No, you will be free!

       I begin by telling you that the proof is in the pudding. Seeing Jesus is as possible as possible can be. Do you believe that I can make myself disappear and then reappear right before your very eyes? On stage here? No props anywhere in sight? No lights turned off? And you don't have to close your eyes for even one second? You don't believe, do you? I know you don't. You are likely turning to your neighbor right now and saying, "Ah, that old trick. I've seen it before." But you are mistaken, my friends. You have not. See, I will now be still for a moment. I will pray to the divine. He will take me away from you for exactly one minute. I am not allowed to do this trick for more than one minute at a time. The rapture has to occur first before I will be permitted more than a minute there on those golden streets. And let me tell you, the streets in heaven are made of pure gold in case you were wondering. Yes, the most beautiful sight you have ever seen. Can you picture a perfect fall evening in Fredericton with the leaves on the sumacs and birches turning such reds and golds? No breeze to stir them, and the temperature sitting lovely at almost too hot to wear a shirt? That is nothing to the perfect beauty of the avenues of trees and the golden trees on the bungalow-lined residential districts of the great city of the heavenly Jerusalem, let me tell you.

       Well, I'm back and you hardly missed me, didn't you? I just saw Jerusalem again and I have seen it many times before. And, each time I do it gets lovelier. How one's soul rejoices there at the sight you would not believe, my fellow travelers.  Now I will show you another trick of even more amazing impossibility in a few minutes as I prepare the complicated yet simple steps in my proof. But Jerry is motioning to me that it is time for questions. First though let us take a short break. After coffee we will return to speak further of these things.

          

Sellers in the Temple

Sellers in the Temple

      

       by Syclopsis Bulls

"There are no temples nowadays. Oh, of course, Calvary Temple, run by the locally famed Pastor Barber. And there's Jimmy Jones and the something temple where the 400 followers killed themselves. And the Waco Texas religious cult whose buildings the US government accidentally brought down by fire. But these hardly constitute temples. Interesting, by way of aside, how millennial cults, end-of-the-world cults, various secret association cults, sun-worshipping cults, and every other kind of cult officially names itself a temple. That's neither here nor there. What the aitch. And there's also the Masonic Temple. Remember, they were the ones with the lap dancers and the strippers last year at their annual Canadian get together. That's neither here nor there. Men like to watch women divest themselves of clothing. Religious men, irreligious men, effeminate men, man's men, sleepless men, fanatical men, leader men, and even gay men. All like nudity to the extent that their guilt levels let them see it without inward cringing. The least common guilt level is that of the evangelical Mennonite man, sincere in his faith, who sees pictures on TV of young women in teeny swimsuits and goes to turn it off. He does this not because his wife is sitting there and she will suspect the truth about him, nor because he feels little, but because he feels much when he sees a naked or semi-naked woman and the turn-off (ha ha) is itself the sign of his interest. Yes, the Masons can be accused only of a political faux pas, not a moral one.

       I am Chintar the magician. And I am just now not at all interested in nudity per se any more or less than is the average male on the average working morning when he has much to do. Oh, he may make a quick foray to a sex site on a company computer, or peek once at his secret personal favorite photo in a file at the back of the second drawer from the top, but really he can't afford to get that caught up with sex in the morning. He has way too much to do.

       Which brings me to my story. Those of you have not ever been inside a Jewish temple raise your hands. Okay. I see there aren't many of you. A few may have, I can tell by the timid up and down movement of your hands and the looking around to see if you are making the right decision. How many of you have been, then? Right. That's better. Okay, four or five. Now, of those who have been, did you ever see Jesus there? No? No one is nodding or shaking heads. No wonder. This is a ridiculous question. Of course you haven't! Am I stupid?! Come on, that was two thousand years ago, you are still thinking. But--------I have! I have seen Jesus in a temple in Jerusalem. Yep. Oh, Jeez, you are thinking to yourselves, we've got ourselves a kook here. Why didn't we get a proper speaker. Once a year and we have to get a delusional one. Ah, but friends, don't be so hasty. I will explain and it will all come out sounding reasonable in the end for all of you.

       So, let me begin again. Thank you for inviting me to your Promise Mennonite Church Winter Retreat. I am honored to have been invited to speak to you. Twice over the next two days, I believe. Am I right, Jerry? Yes. Thank you. Today I wish to speak about Jesus. Tomorrow I will be performing some magical tricks that will knock your socks off. Even you unbelievers. Yes. You will see things done before your very eyes that you would never have credited possible before! But let me get on with it."

(to be continued)       

Guard

Guard

by Disraeli Reimer

"Now class, what Miriam said to the Egyptian queen was, 'I know a nurse who could take care of it for you.' And the queen told Miriam to fetch that nurse and she ran to her mother and told her all that had transpired. Her mother hurried to the queen and bowed and was admitted into her presence. Whereupon the young queen inquired of her credentials and skills, handed the baby over to her and so Ruth found herself (God be praised!) in charge of her own baby, Moses, all the other young Israelite sons in the land having their necks wrung by the Pharaoh.

       "And Moses grew up to be a strong young lad with beautiful features and great strength in his arms and legs. He could run faster than any of the other youths. He lifted heavier weights. His hair grew long and gorgeous, and women, both Egyptian and Israeli, coveted him. His marksmanship excelled to such an extent that when a lion came to seize a sheep one day as he tended a flock alone, he killed it with a single stone from his sling. At studies, too, when he reached a certain age and the desire took him to know the history of his beleaguered people, he startled the rabbis, for he was both astute at memorizing as well as fierce of opinion.

       "'We have been long enough a nation of brick makers and stone masons,' he would say to the Wednesday evening Bible study group. 'I intend to find out who collaborates with Pharaoh and lets him know the names of every last one who dissents with his politics,' he would also say, dangerous as was such outspokenness against Egypt. Once, when he was working on a labor crew and an Egyptian overseer beat an Israeli worker for talking, Moses could no longer contain his anger and, strong as he was, rushed up to the guard and slew him with one downward stroke of his heavy hand. He looked left and right, saw no one, and buried the body in the sand. None ever discovered the truth. No enemy, that is. Moses was willing to kill for his love of land and people!

       "His problem, class? He stuttered! He did! Really! He was not perfect! He did not have it all together! And that should teach us that we all have our problem, don't we? We think, well, the heroes of the Bible were somehow perfect and good and strong and wise and loved and neat and nifty and nice and true and loyal and foresightful and perspicacious and observant and calm and restrained and incorruptible and whiffling and spirited and respectful and responsible. We hardly think of ourselves as that, do we? We see ourselves as horny, vain, ludicrous, weird, bullying, seductive, befouled, wicked, winsome, nasty, lickspittal, reckless, laborious, disheveled, snickering, pissed-off, witless, besotted, notorious, and beshatten. We do not think of ourselves as at all similar to the grand ones who preceded us in days when God cared enough for his people that He chose, selected, and took special notice of particular souls to do his bidding.

       "Well, Moses had his problems. Yes, indeedy he did. I am tickled to say this. Uuu, uuu, uuu, uuu uuu. Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm! And wring my hands. He couldn't speak in public. I doubt if he could speak at all. Those few times when he announced his strong opinions, or when he made some revelatory comment on a matter of law or erudition, were the exception, most like. I believe, I am sure, that he spoke little to his acquaintances as a matter of course, in the heat of the moment or, as one might say, extemporaneously. He simply did what the shy, red-faced and reticent do, which is to be and not speak. Thereness, not garrulousness. Anyway, to make a long story short, Moses so dominated God's imagination that before long He had him (that is, God had Moses) pinned down with a duty that our hero would much rather have run from. Where is Nineveh when you need it, eh? Where the sounding whale? Only barbarity all about! Oh, sorrows! Only the building of towers and the babbling of workers in brick and stone.

       So, God chose Moses to be his messenger and that is the lesson that I wish to leave you all with, Sunday School class. God loves even those who sit and wait. He loves, in other words, those among you who find it difficult to speak. Uttering sounds is easy for many. Take me, for instance. But, for others among you, ones like Danny here, the production of even one syllable of sound smacks him in the face as if a truck had driven over him and then backed up more than once and driven over him again to make sure he was dead, if you get my drift. An eighteen wheeler. A crowded bus. A steel-wheeled trolly car. A double-diesel locomotive train. Now, Danny is not the only one with an impediment. No, No! There are others. Many of us. You. Do not feel embarrassed any longer about that, for God loves you, and one day He may even show you a small favor. When He does, do not hesitate to fall on your knees and praise Him for His great kindness to you. Stutter away with a will, then. Put put. Snick snick. Make those silly sounds that bring smirks and smiles to listeners' faces. Gag on phonemes. Stumble over diphthongs. Snag on hyphenated words or words beginning with 'h's or 's's or other aspirants. Wrack your ships on plosives and founder on alliteratives. 'P p p p p p p p p p present.' No matter. You will one day prove your value even if now you feel and are worthless to the causes that form themselves here and there in our social lives. Class dismissed. Next Sunday it is David and Goliath. Bring your King James's."   

Henry and Henrietta

Henry and Henrietta

       by Douglas Haremscaren

               "Treat every man as he deserves 
               and who shall 'scape whipping?"
               (or was it skipping?)

Once upon a time a brother and sister lived with their father and a wicked stepmother in the forest beside a mountain. The boy's name was Henry, the girl's Henrietta. She loved her brother very much and he loved her equally. They loved their father, too, but not the ugly and bad-tempered widow he had married when their real mother died. Every day their father would journey far into the forest to cut wood, but he was getting old and could hardly chop enough to make a living for all five of them (they did have another brother,  a stepbrother, but he was mongoloid and they seldom involved themselves with him). Every day, too, the stepmother would nag the children, yelling at them about how lazy they were, threatening to take away what little food they got, and promising one of these days to be rid of them for good. Poor Gippetto, he loved his children and begged his new wife to be kind. But, all in vain. One day, when he had grown so very tired of her scolding and nagging, he agreed to take the children into the woods and let fate care for them, for that would be better than their present misery.

       He had okayed quietly to do this, in their bedroom with the door closed. But, Henrietta heard all this and made it known to her brother that very evening.

       "Hurry!" she said. "We haven't a minute to lose! Let us go find some crusts of bread and pieces of cheese to put in our pockets to take with us because poor father has given us over and is willing to abandon us and let nature take care of us as it wills!"

       Henry, younger, dismayed, and none too strong at the best of times, swooned then. Worried about him, Henrietta ran hither and thither gathering necessaries for their journey. She let Henry sleep where he fell, taking time only to cover him with a light blanket and place his head gently, as was her nature, upon an eider pillow so he would not take a kink in his neck. He was prone to such cramping of muscles.

       Soon, Henrietta had enough food for both of them, enough to last them two or three days if used judiciously. She had filled a thermos bottle with water mixed with a little ketchup, since that was Henry's favorite drink. It tasted a little like the tomato juice they used to get when their real mother was still alive. About the time that she had gathered all together, Henry awoke from his sleep and, looking around, inquired if she had found all the comforts they would need. She affirmed this and, content, prepared as best they could be, they awaited the morning with growing excitement. Soon, they would leave this wicked house behind and find their own way in the world. Such was their delight that they hardly felt tired. Finally, however, blessed sleep overwhelmed them and before they had closed their eyes, it seemed, morning and their new adventure was upon them.

       Breakfasts had become less substantial as the months of stepmother's reign waxed. This morning, finally, there was no breakfast at all. Hungry, they set out down a brightly lit trail that many feet had trod. Before long, however, it branched and they took a darker one, and then a darker yet until, after a dozen such forks, neither girl nor boy could have begun to tell how to find the way home. Never mind. Henry is a clever one, and Henrietta a bonny lass. They will come to no harm if there is any justice in the world. Their father told them, of a sudden, to pick berries at a certain spot while he went a short distance off to cut trees. When evening came, and they had picked ten or twelve ice-cream pails full of the juiciest saskatoons, Henrietta began to agree with Henry that the sound they were hearing in the distance must simply be a tree branch whacking against a trunk. They were free! Till his moment they had waited out of respect and politeness lest their father actually was chopping wood and intended not to leave them behind after all. Now they could go as they chose. They flung their jackets on, picked up their pails of berries and headed toward the nearest town, Endover, some five miles or so to the east if the light from the tv tower in the distance was a reliable indicator.

       Once there, they sold their berries for a tidy sum, enough to rent a room for the rest of the week and even to buy the ingredients for two suppers and as many breakfasts. They felt rich!

       "Wonderful!" Henry intoned.

       "Neat!" Henrietta echoed. The first stop on their agenda was the local barber. Henry had his black hair cut in the latest fashion and Henrietta had her long yellow locks made up like a t.v. actress's whom she admired. They appeared dashing and debonair when they sat down to sup that evening. In new clothes and spruced up hair, and after a bath, they were king and queen! When they could eat no more, they went up to their rooms to retire for the night. Before long they were snoring in each other's arms, oblivious to the evils the wide world held in store for travelers such as themselves.