"Out With The Old..."

Numbers 1-25

The adage, "Out with the old and in with the new," is one that takes a minute or two or three for many of us to get our mind around.  I have clothes that I simply cannot part with, furniture that is more hazardous to my body than trying to climb a tree, and friends that I know secretly wish for my misfortune.  But there is something about familiarity that comforts me and keeps me doing the same thing even if it is not in my best interest to continue to do so.  So too is the case when many Christians encounter our faith tradition and the sacred text.  As evidenced by the frequency of their appearance on this blog, I have a special affinity for the old Negro Spirituals.  They move me in ways the contemporary Gospel music does not.  It doesn't change the fact, however, that I am more left of center when it comes to my faith walk.  I, too, am often chided about my taste in Gospel music, although, I have found that when the music is heard again, it brings back fond memories of years past.

So yes, it is easier and more comfortable to continue down the same road.  We know the route, we know all the landmarks and nothing is different or changes.  The road becomes stale, dank and dusty with potholes of (mis)understanding and cracks of misinterpretation of the scriptures.  This is what I call "auto pilot Christianity."  Rather than delve deeper into our faith, utilizing our fully engaged mind, we walk into church and flip on the "auto pilot" switch, letting the preacher and the worship service take us down the same path the same way we went last week and the week before that and the week before that.  There are no new awakenings, no new sightings and experiences.  The same songs are sung and the same people get up and go on display (that is if you belong to one of those churches).  And if you do, you know exactly what I'm talking about. 

The problem with bringing our whole mind into the worship experience, however, is that we would have to admit to at least a few things; 1) The bible is not infallible, 2) The bible is not written in chronological order, and, in this case, 3) An individual by the name of "Moses" did not write the Pentateuch, rather - as scholars suggest - the first four books were compiled by a group of "Jerusalemite priests," during the Babylonian exile.  Believe it or not, I get it.  For many, letting go of the old, revamping tradition, is harder than throwing away an old comfortably worn out pair of jeans.  The operative word or phrase there is "worn out."  It is old, tired, outdated, antiquated, stultifying and repressive.

It appears this may have been the case for the first "wilderness" generation.  That is the generation that is reported to have endured extreme persecution in Egypt and fled into the wilderness.  They were the generation who lived through and gave us the stories of making bricks without straw, the plagues on Egypt, the mass exodus, the parting of the Red Sea, that mysterious food from heaven, and the establishment and set up of the Priesthood and the Tabernacle respectively.  They are also the generation that, surprisingly enough, was consistently disobedient to God.  Consequently, at the end of chapter 25, this entire generation dies and none of them (and we'll find out later, including Moses), is allowed to enter into the "Promised Land."

I don't know about you, but it seems to me that there could be an argument made here about tradition when it fails to remain faithful and relevant.  When tradition becomes so rigid in practice that it yields little to no ground for new, reinvigorating, rejuvenating energy, and ways of knowing and ways of being.  I mean for real, how much longer can we continue to go to church on those special "Holydays" and hear the same sermon that we've heard since we were children?  How much longer will we continue to sit, waiting for the moment when we can participate in the Black Church's tradition of "call and response," because we already know what the preacher is going to say?  Furthermore, the greatest reaction during the worship service is when the preacher manages to throw an unexpected twist into the story.  C'mon now... Where's the beef?!!

Like the first 25 chapters of Numbers, I am grateful for the experiences and sacrifices of those who have come before us.  I am grateful for the narratives that taught us "How [we] got over."  I am even grateful for the tradition that has brought us "thus far on the way."  But like the scripture informs us of Israel's lack of faith, that although they may have witnessed God's holiness and seen the signs of God's glory, "yet have tested [God] these ten times and have not obeyed [God's] voice" (Numbers 14: 1-24).  And again, like the writer's of the scriptures inform us, God is going to do a new thing.  S/HE, like the narrative of Numbers infers of Caleb, "because he has a different spirit and has followed me wholeheartedly," is calling forth a new socially, culturally, politically, religiously and spiritually conscious generation to take us into the next phase of our journey to the Promised Land (v.24). 

Are we there yet?  No.  Will we get there?  Yes, indeed we shall.  But we cannot and we will not get there, if we continue on the same course.  We must change our collective mind.  We need greater validation and prominence of women Pastors, more legitimacy of out lesbians and gays in the pulpits, theologians of every faith tradition, scholars and social critics, and spiritualist of every persuasion.  Then and only then will we be able to look back over the course of our life and testify in a new way of triumph over tragedy, liberation over persecution, of love over hate and sing a new song about, "How [we] got over!"

© Dorinda G. Henry, 2011

THEOLOGIA HABITUS EST! 

"I Remember Mama"

You know I never realized how many "special days" there were between December and June.  Without a doubt they have played a major part in the postings of this blog.  Never fear, we will get back to our regularly scheduled blogs regarding the process of Reading the Bible Again for the First Time.  Especially since I have serendipitously learned that so-called bishops (little b), with little to no real theological education or training and who in times past, have showed no respect or regard for such, are now attempting to teach the same.  While I wrestled with continuing with the blog as it is, to God be the glory, for it is more important that the information and truth be revealed through as many avenues as possible to bring God's people to a place of mature and authentic faith and an understanding of that faith than my own human frailties.  So, for those of you following along with us in your reading, be informed that we are now squarely in the book of Numbers.  For now, however, I am compelled to do what many of us are doing or preparing to do, and that is to reflect upon, remember and honor our Mothers.

Since 2009, Mother's Day has been one of the most dreaded days of my life.  I was borne of a woman that was ill equipped and prepared to be a mother.  She was young, wild and loose.  Thankfully, she had a mother that would step in in a way unparalleled by most.  My maternal Grandmother (Mama), like many before her, took on the responsibility for my care, nourishment, protection and shelter.  She showed up in my life when my biological mother had chosen to leave and abandon me.  What's more, she took it a step further and legally adopted me - taking total and complete responsibility for my well-being, safety and security.  In an instant, I went from being an abandoned child to a wanted and cared for child.  She spent the rest of her life making sure that I knew and understood what love was and that I indeed, was loved.  Subsequently, I grew up to be a social, cultural, political, religious and spiritual activist that often times found myself in situations that threatened my life.  And as much as she prepared to care for me in life, in like manner, she equally prepared to care for me in death by keeping life insurance on me until the day she died in the event that she lost me to a just cause.  I, however, was never prepared to be in this world without her.  But, as God would have it, S/HE called Mama to return HOME - leaving me here still.

It took some time, but I'll never forget what it is to be lonely and alone.  I'll never forget being borne of a woman who didn't want me.  I'll never forget the sadness felt watching my birth mother walk out on me time and time again.  But thanks be to God, I'll remember, eternally being chosen by a mother to be her child.  I'll remember, eternally, being held and rocked in the bosom of a woman who represented in tangible ways, God with us.  I was her Ruth and she was my Naomi.  So in honor of my Mama, I confess the same vow, "Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you!  Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God.  Where you die, I will die - there will I be buried.  May the Lord do thus and so to me, and more as well, if even death parts me from you" (Ruth 1: 16,17)!  Rest easy Mama - I love you - eternally. 

"Now mama is sleeping in the bosom of Jesus Christ
Somehow I know she's smiling, she's smiling on us right now
One day I'll see her again, how happy I will be
And I remember mama in a happy way."

                                             (Shirley Caesar)

© Dorinda G. Henry, 2011

THEOLOGIA HABITUS EST!

"Strange Fruit"

"Southern trees bear a strange fruit,

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,

Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,

Strange fruit hanging from the popular trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant south,

The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,

Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,

Then the sudden smell of burning flesh...

For those of you familiar with the song "Strange Fruit," originally written as a poem by Abel Meeropol under the pseudonym Lewis Allen, and sang by the incomparable Billie Holiday, no doubt you are wondering why I would highlight such a polarizing song that arguably has more to do with the social and political climate of the south in 1930 than it does with anything religious or spiritual.  Surely, you're probably thinking that I could have found something more suitable to write about on the most Holiest of Sundays for Christians than a song written about the 1930 lynching of two Black men (Thomas Shipp and Abram Smith in Marion, Indiana).  The truth of the matter is that I can't come up with anything more "Holy" to write about in remembrance of the reported crucifixion of a revolutionary Mediterranean Jewish Peasant  man than this. 

The title of the song bears witness to the regularity of lynchings of Black men across the south.  The act was often preceded by a public scourging with the intent to strike fear in the hearts and minds of any so-called "agitators," or individuals criminalized for the ordinary fact that they were Black, unprotected and/or that they had possibly broken some imaginary Jim Crow Law.  To ensure the message got out to any and all who might decide to challenge the social, cultural, and political power structure of the day, many, if not most of the lynchings took place in select places or on "popular trees" for farther reach and greater impact. The irony of the sweet smell of the magnolia trees, systematically robbed of their true purpose by the bile of hatred that lit the match that would help to create the stench of burning flesh suffocating its leaves and thus the atmosphere, is reminiscent of Mary using the sweet smelling nard to anoint Jesus feet before his impending death.

It is all the more reason that this is the perfect remembrance of  the reason for the season.  If one were to read articles written by theologians and physicians in medical journals exploring the reported events surrounding Jesus' ministry, public scourging and lynching/crucifixion, one would also find striking similarities between this revolutionary man's life and death and that of the lives and deaths for which the song sings about.  Often enslaved Africans were scourged with various instruments - quirt, "cat-o-nine tails," or a flagellum (a leather multi-thong, sometimes having pieces of wood, bone and steel balls attached) - for maximum punishment.  So too, were the reports surrounding the scourging of Jesus of Nazareth.  So too, were the reports for which he was accused - challenging the social, political, cultural, economic, religious and spiritual power structures of the day.  An "agitator," whose message and ministry was so threatening to the status quo, they had to kill him.

As we get all dressed up and gitty over this most "Holy" day, be reminded of the man, the message, the mission and his ministry.  Be reminded of his life and his death.  Do justice, shout aloud, challenge unjust laws.  Question the plethora of social, sexual and racial double standards.  Denounce excess, war, materialism, racism, sexism, homophobia, economic exploitation - and do this in remembrance of them all - Jesus, Martin Luther King, Jr. Mohandas (Mahatma) Gandhi,  Fannie Lou Hamer, Steven Biko and all the other freedom fighters known and unknown!  RIZE UP and BE FREE!

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,

For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,

For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,

Here is a strange and bitter crop."

                                       (Abel Meeropol)

 © Dorinda G. Henry, 2011

THEOLOGIA HABITUS EST!

"Aren't We There?"

"Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Oh sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble,

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?

Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?

Oh sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble

Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?..."

If you're reading this post, then once again, you, me, friend and foe, have made it through another year and are now traversing the Holiest week for Christians.  While I have endured numerous challenges including, but not limited to technological setbacks and was the victim of a rear-end collision, I, too, can say that I am excited about what this week brings in terms of observance and hopefully some earnest reflection.  Hell after the month I've had, I'm even a little "gitty" at the chance to gaze upon some man wearing a yellow, orange, lime green or even purple/lavender suit on Easter Sunday.

I remember those days when I was too young to know better or to say anything about being forced to wear patent leather shoes (be they white or black), rolled-down socks with the lace at the top, with a pretty little pink, yellow, white or powder blue dress on (complete with petticoat).  Of course my hair was in at least two - no more than four ponytails or plats (that's what they called braids back then), and depending on just how precious all of that was - a pair of white gloves was the equivalent of a black woman's church hat.  Now c'mon... You know in the Black church, especially on Easter Sunday, a black woman was not really dressed up until she put on that hat.  And baaaaby - Honey chile please!  You had better know when our mothers stepped out the house and into the church house with a hat on...; It was serious business!  She was sharper than two tacks and a nail!  Look out now!  Whatchu say!  We were all dressed up to go listen to the story about how they led poor Jesus to be lied on, beaten half to death and nailed to the cross.  

A tree is more likely what he was hung from, but hey, I was a little girl then and if that's what Mama said he was nailed to, that's sure as hell what it was.  Whatever the case may be, we were all dolled up to see and be seen!  I personally couldn't wait until after church was over so we could go out back or across the street to the park for the Easter Egg hunt.  Sometimes I wondered what would have happened to Jesus if only he had planned an Easter Egg hunt for the children.  Would they still had beaten him up and killed him?  The thought of that made me kinda sad.  I mean really...  What would have happened if only he had organized an Easter Egg hunt for the kids.  I reasoned, "The grown up people appeared so happy watching us hunt down all those colorful eggs.  And, everybody knows that Easter Eggs taste better than a regular ole eggs.  So instead of telling the kids stories and sitting them on his lap with a bunch of sheep laying around, he should have had an Easter Egg hunt!"  It just made more sense to me.  If he had done that, instead of getting dressed up to go hear the sad story about the people crucifying Jesus, we could have heard about the multitude of Easter Eggs he made appear for the children and the grown ups.  He would have been crowned the Easter Bunny and not the King of the Jews!  I'm jes sayn...

But seriously, all across this land and abroad, Christians everywhere are singing, "Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna in the Highest," in celebration of Jesus' "triumphant" entrance into Jerusalem.  The expectation being the establishment of the new Kingdom.  A Kingdom that is otherworldly, inward and all around us.  Churches are preparing for Easter Sunday Festivities, Easter Egg hunts and the yearly, "Seven Last Words" Service.  Each observance is meant in praise of Jesus' ultimate sacrifice for our eternal salvation.  That's all well and good.  But for me, I no longer have the luxury of a fanciful imagination that youth affords.  Consequently, it's all so very neat, so very clean and so very pretty.  A man was lied on, conspired against, beaten almost to death, nails driven through both his wrist and feet, and mocked as his life slipped away.  Why?  For what?  Because he dared to question the religious leaders and traditions of his day?  Because he dared to recognize the sacred worth of each and every human being?  Because he walked with and talked with women as freely as he did with the men?  Because the poor, the lame, the widow were at the forefront of his mind?  Because the "haves" had no greater standing or importance than the "have nots?"  Because he dared to encourage others to live and love as God has loved us?  Because he dared to be present in the life of others suffering - taking it on as his own?  And finally, because he instructed us to be kind, just and to actively fight against oppressive doctrine and rule?

When I think about it, indeed, "sometimes it makes me tremble, tremble, tremble."  If the way we treat each other today is any indication of what we have learned from his death, I fear today's social, cultural, political, religious and spiritual leaders would do the same as before.  Quiet as it's kept, save a few exceptions, in many ways, we crucify him daily.

"Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?
Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?
Oh sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble
Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?
                                                           (Negro Spiritual)
© Dorinda G. Henry, 2011

THEOLOGIA HABITUS EST! 

"As With A Woman"

"...  Did you know somebody almost got away wit me/
me in a plastic bag under their arm/
me dangling on a string of personal carelessness/..."

Hello there!  Did you miss me?  You had better say "Yes!"  I missed you sumptn terrible.  Okay, here's the skinny....  "Somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff!"  For real! they almost walked off wid alla my stuff!  If you are like me and you use your computer for EV-ER-Y-THING, and suddenly, some smarty pants with way too much sense for his/her own good invades your computer space and leaves a nasty little bug that threatens to separate you from all of your stuff - then you understand exactly what I mean.   I was temporarily knocked down and my computer had to spend some time at the "clinic" to get the nasty bug out of its system.  But "Sofia home now..."

Yes, it has been a few weeks since my last post and since I know you all have struggled through the very exciting and engrossing book of Leviticus, you also know that it has been misused, misinterpreted and exploited by prejudicially motivated Preachers, teachers, lay-leaders and social and political activist seeking to justify the denial of human rights protections to same-and-both-gender loving people.  Yes, here it is, one of the most overly used, misused, misinterpreted and misunderstood text thrown about to condemn others; "You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination" (Leviticus 18:22).  Lord today!  Do you know how tired I am of hearing that scripture?  I mean really.  Every time I hear it, I am struck by the sleepy monster and instantaneously nod off!  I know some of you think and maybe even hope it bothers me and for that, but I'm sorry to disappoint you.  Because it simply does not.  Hear me when I say, "not much ever bothers me."  I told you, I ain't never scared.  And by they way, did I ever mention to you that I went to seminary?  Yes?  No?  Well I did, and one of the most memorable lessons I was blessed to learn came by way of an extraordinary New Testament scholar, who in one statement, blew this whole bible thing wide open for me.  He said simply, and I paraphrase - "If it's in the bible or if there is some admonishment against it, it is because it was a prevalent occurrence."  That is to say that it was a common practice.  Practices that generated cultic/holiness codes that were culturally and contextually conditioned.  They were not intended to be and cannot be binding outside the culture and context in which they were understood and originated.  

Now if we consider the text, "You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination," with a contemporary understanding applied to it, at the very least, it  begs the question(s); What exactly does that mean?  Does it apply to women?  Were they not laying with each other or, did it not matter?  And, could men lie with men in other ways?  Surely you know I want to and could go deeper - no pun intended - but I'll let you sit with that and enjoy the exploration all by yourself.  Send me a message and tell  me all about it.  ;) ;)

Moving right along...  Legislation has been introduced and passed.  Elections have been won and lost on the mere inference of the mysterious threat that two adult same-gender-loving people wanting to enter into a lifetime covenant with one another pose to the "sacred" institution of marriage.  If it is so "sacred," and if the aforementioned text in the book of Leviticus is one of the strongest religious arguments for depriving individuals of their human rights and privileges, where is the legislation banning divorce?  Why is it so easy to end a marriage?  I haven't heard of any legislation being introduced banning bald-headed men from becoming Priest or approaching the sanctuary either.  And while I'm at it, where's the legislation restricting anyone, for that matter, with any manner of skin blemish, or physical deformity or handicap from going near the sanctuary (vv. 21:16-20)?  Hell I think I might run for office just to introduce legislation that would ban anyone from approaching "a woman to uncover her nakedness while she is in her menstrual uncleanness" (v. 18:19).  It might save somebody's life!  I'm jes sayn...  All of these and more are listed as abominations.

But seriously, much in the way society, church, family structures and yes, even kindred spirits converge to steal away pieces of us with little to no care of the void they leave behind,  so too is their use of the bible.  They carelessly hurl about some callous and hateful quip about something they know little to nothing about.  Such has been used to harm and to keep a free people shackled in chains of misguided accommodation and a strict adherence to tradition - tradition many have no clue of its origin.  The bible has also been used, misused and even defiled for selfish, political, sexual and economic gain.  Though wounded and shattered, as it is with women, I'm still standing - reclaiming all of my stuff - including God and the sacred text.  No longer may they be used to hurt or to harm others in the name of God or the Holy Spirit.  I'm weary of the lies.  Haven't you heard?  I've taken me back!

"... I'm spattered with mud and city rain/
no I didn't get a chance to take a douche/
hey man/
this is not your prerogative/
I gotta have me in my pocket/
to get 'round like a good woman should/..."
                                           (Ntozake Shange)

© Dorinda G. Henry, 2011

THEOLOGIA HABITUS EST!

"Torat Kohanim"

L E V I T I C U S - An Introduction

"A charge to keep I have,

A God to glorify,

A never-dying soul to save,

And Fit it for the sky.

To serve the present age,

My calling to fulfill:

O may it all my powers engage

To do my Master's will!

I remember growing up in a close knit Baptist Church family.  Every Sunday I would watch my Great Grandmother, "Jelly," as she slowly and painfully rose from her usual spot on the third row pew, on the right side to  go before the church, stoop down on her "one good knee" to lead morning devotion.  One of the songs  she would lead the church in was the line hymn, "A Charge To Keep I Have."  As a little girl, I always thought she was wailing and moaning because she was on that one good knee and the congregation was somehow experiencing the same pain by osmosis or something!  As you listen to the video, you'll understand what I'm talking about.  Thankfully I grew up and learned the lyrics only to find a wonderful and beautifully written warning to all charged with the keeping of the Temple or in my case, the Church.  So listen closely and enjoy.  In the meantime, let me get to this post.

We have finished Elie Wiesel's NIGHT and are now returning to Reading The Bible Again for the First Time.  This week we will be sticking our naked minds and wicked thoughts into the book of Leviticus. 

I'm sure many of you may think the book of Leviticus, or its early rabbinic name, "Torat Kohanim," (the Priests' Manuel), would or should strike fear and terror in the heart and mind of a skinny, little, ugly, nappy-headed, black girl with a particular particularity that is particularly particular for most, especially one being in the vocation of ministry... Yes?  Well, I'm sorry, but let me remind you of something; "I ain't nevah scared!"  But what say you?  Are you afraid little girl?  What about you little boy?  Well sit back, relax and be ye not afraid!  Because the problem with Leviticus is how it has been interpreted, misinterpreted, used, misused and abused to set apart, ostracize and condemn those that contemporary Preachers and religious leaders have determined to be unfit, out of order, morally deficient or depraved, and unworthy of God's love, mercy, protection and infinite grace.  In its  purest sense, Leviticus (the Priests' Manuel) is about Israel's Priesthood - and I doubt very seriously that contemporary Preachers who journey down this road for social, economic and political expediency are on the rode to converting to Judaism.  I'm jes saying...

In short and in preparation for your reading, here's a tip and don't forget it...  The book of Leviticus is primarily about rituals, specific sacrifices and duties of Israel's Priests.  And, about the Priests making the distinction between the "holy and the common and between the unclean and the clean" (Leviticus 10:10).  A more universal understanding that is implicit within the book's title is an awareness of the moral character, code of conduct and a certain standard by which the Priests are governed - though there are no hard and fast laws for the Priests alone - it is a standard set forth in the Torah.  I'm sorry, what was that you said?  Make it plain?  Alrighty then...  Take for example tithes and offering;  Now there's a topic, I'm sure we can all get our minds around.  It is not only important to bring an offering into the Temple/Church, but it is equally (if not more) important that the Priests/Preacher consecrates the offering respectfully and properly appropriates it toward all matters pertaining to the preservation and success of the Temple/Church and the worship experience.  When was the last time you heard a sermon about that?  I'm willing to say - NEVAH!

As we delve deeper into the book, for obvious reasons, I will use Priests and Preacher, Temple and Church interchangeably.  But know this, the Priests of the Temple, Preachers and religious leaders of the Church are consecrated, sanctified and set apart as holy unto God.  They, WE, are to be exemplary stewards of that which we have been "called" and given charge of.  This is not a willy-nilly charge or vocation.  It is purposeful and should have deliberate intent.  For where we lack honesty and sincerity, there, most assuredly, we shall be held to account. 

Arm me with jealous care,

As in Thy sight to live;

And O Thy servant, Lord, prepare

A strict account to give!

Help me to watch and pray,

And on Thyself rely,

Assured, if I my trust betray,

I shall forever die."
(Charles Wesley, based on Matthew Henry's commentary on Leviticus)

© Dorinda G. Henry, 2011

THEOLOGIA HABITUS EST!

"SILENCE... Test In Session"

"Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my Faith forever.  Never shall I forget that nocturnal silence which deprived me, for all eternity, of the desire to live.  Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust.  Never shall I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself.  Never."

(NIGHT by Elie Wiesel)

Before I begin, a not so quick joke;  There were four young college students on their spring break.  They had collected their goods, their tools, tricks and treats, anxious to get to a good time waiting to be had.  They loaded up in the choicest of the coolest, brightest, fastest, girl and boy magnet of a car they could afford for the week ahead.  Before leaving, they threw out any and all things that caused them any gloom, stress or strife.  Gone were the books, the pencils, the late night study sessions and that midterm - worth 60% of their final grade -  scheduled first thing Monday morning.  They were free!  As the week flew by, the end came much too soon.  With fun and good times still to be had, they conspired with one another to stay an extra night.  So, they devised a plan that required each of them to call in separately and tell the professor that on the way back, the car had a flat tire and they had to wait countless hours for roadside service to come and assist them with the busted tire.  Gracious and understanding, the professor allowed each of them to take the test without penalty, and on the same day.  Flying high from the week's activities and feeling like they had gotten over on the nutty professor, the four students arrived early that morning, all bright and wide-eyed as a baby covered in bubbles splashing around in a tub of water.  The professor greeted them calmly and after some pleasantries and expressions of concern and pleasure that they had arrived safely, save the inconvenience of that flat tire, she engaged them a few moments longer about the unfortunate delay.  

Each of them had something extra to say about the difficulty in changing the tire.  As the professor handed out the test, she laughed and joked about her own mishaps with car repairs and the like.  She had arranged for them to be staggered in various spots throughout the class room, centered squarely on her.  Once done passing out the test, she informed them they had the entire hour to complete the test.  She then sat down, almost motionless - in complete silence - while she watched intently as they scribbled, erased and rewrote their answers to the questions.  She watched as one by one the student's amazement at the simplicity of the questions showed on each of their faces.  They breezed through the test with the ease of a hot knife meeting butter.  Almost simultaneously, they reached the last question - worth 80% of the grade.  It was also the shortest question on the test....  Which tire was it?

"What then do we say about these things?"  Sometimes life and living is hard.  It has very high mountain peaks and deep dark valley lows.  It has twists and turns, curves and clefts.  It has quick starts and hard stops, but the measure of a life is not so much what happened in those moments, rather the details of how we got there.  I have a friend who loves a good story.  But you can't just tell her what happened.  She wants the full scene from beginning to end.  You have to tell her EV-ER-Y-THING!  What day was it?  Was it cold or hot?  How cold or hot was it?  What did you have on?  What and who was in the room?  What were the facial expressions of the individuals involved in the story...  What were you feeling when all of this was going on?  I mean, she wants all of the details so she can feel like she was sitting right there with you.  The truth of the matter is that it IS the details that can make or break any given situation.  Take for instance the not so quick joke at the beginning of this post.  The students thought they had it all together.  They had had an extra good time and made a fool of the professor.  She was so foolish, they thought, that she chimed in and added some of her own life experiences into the overall plot.  But at the end of the day, it didn't matter how long it took them to wait for help, or how long it took for them to make it back to school.  All that mattered was one small detail.  If they had focused on that detail and not rushed on to the end, they would not have found their countenance shift from smug and sheer delight to resembling the fright of a deer about to be caught in the headlights of a speeding car.

Details are exactly what we are going to experience in the next phase of our reading.  As a compliment to our Reading The Bible Again for the First Time, I have included NIGHT, by Elie Wiesel.  It is the story of a young Jewish boy, Elie Wiesel, born in the town of Sighet in Transylvania.  He was a 13-year-old man-child forced to witness the death of his family, of his innocence and even "the death of his God."  It is an extraordinary tale of faith, loss of faith, hope and loss of hope that warns an entire world that nothing like it must never be given chance to happen again.  It is also a story about life's tests and the importance of the details - of tradition that often times fail us - of faith that seems ridiculous when it appears that God, like the professor, has set us up for the test.  A test to see if along with an understanding of our faith, we also got the details of it.  A word to the wise, and something I believe a young Elie Wiesel had to learn much too soon; When the test is in session, the instructor is silent.

© Dorinda G. Henry, 2011

THEOLOGIA HABITUS EST!