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."