WELL, MARGE, I WENT to church last Sunday…. No, the doors did not cave in on me! And if you’re going to think up jokes, I wish you’d think of new ones. It’s true that I don’t go very often but you know most folks go ’round Christmas and Easter time, so I thought I would surprise my pastor by goin’ a week early this time…. Oh, the sermon was so-so, and I saw a lot of friends that I hadn’t seen in a long while, but wait until I tell you what happened just as I was leavin’!
The pastor caught up with me at the door and spoke out real loud, “My, it certainly has been a long time since we’ve seen you! What happened to you?” Now, in the past when he’s done this I always told him some lie about bein’ busy or sickly or some such tale as that, but all of a sudden I decided that I was goin’ to let him in on the truth. I spoke out real plain: “I haven’t been comin’ to church because you ain’t been sayin’ anything whenever I do get here.” … Marge, he was some upset, and asked me to step into his study and explain what I meant…. Of course I did just that!
“Not meanin’ any disrespect,” I said, “but every time you give a sermon, I find that you reach way back in the book and pick out a text about people bearin’ up under a whole lot of misery that the Lord has visited upon them. For example, the last time I was here you told me all about Job’s sores and boils, how all his children was killed off and a million and one other miseries, the whole object bein’ how nicely he bore up under these things.” … Marge, he shook his head and said, “That’s in the Bible, I’m sorry you didn’t like the text.”
“Well, reverend,” I told him, “it’s true that you are the one who gets to select the sermon, but I notice that it’s almost always something about people bein’ destroyed or cursed or something from Lamentations. And when I leave, it’s always with the feelin’ that I’m lucky to be breathin’ and had better be thankful that I ain’t any more miserable than I am.” … No, Marge, he wasn’t offended, especially when I told him what I would like to hear.
“Reverend,” I said, “the Bible also tells us that Jesus did not act meek and mild and enjoy the fact that some folks were walkin’ all over others. He raised his voice and spoke to crowds, told them that the rulers were puttin’ heavy burdens on people’s shoulders, devourin’ widows’ houses. He called Herod a fox and told the people they were livin’ amongst a generation of vipers. He advised people to feed the hungry, take in the stranger, visit the prisoner. He told them there was no justice in the court, he accused the rich of misleadin’ the people and seekin’ high places for themselves. He taught the people to break bread in common brotherhood. He taught them ‘The kingdom on Earth as it is in Heaven.’ And it was for teachin’ and preachin’ these things that he was hauled into court and charged with overthrowin’ the Lord, the prophets, the religion of the land and settin’ himself up as King. It was for these things that he was nailed to the cross. Today his message has become lost in stained-glass windows and mournful songs. The message of love, hope and forgiveness has been drowned out by false prophets screamin’ about hell-fire and damnation and destruction.”
My pastor smiled a little and said, “I asked and you told me. You’ve said a great deal and I’ll have to think about it a while.”
“Yes, reverend,” I said, “and if you could find it in your heart to preach a sermon like that it would make Sunday a day of real meaning and inspiration.”
And it would, wouldn’t it, Marge?