THOMAS GIVES JESUS THE FINGER

THE ANGELUS TRUMPET

The Unexpurgated Source for Alternative Bible Facts

THOMAS GIVES JESUS THE FINGER 

by Jack D. Sypal

Dateline: Jerusalem, April 23, 20:19:31

This is the third in a series of interviews with first shapers in The Way, or as we know them today, Christians.  Earlier I covered conversations with Peter and with James and John.

This week I was fortunate enough to stumble across Thomas who was between trips to India. He was generous enough to give me some time as his acolytes unloaded burros with goods from India and then reloaded their packs for the pending journey back. I was intrigued by the number of woodworking tools they were packing and questioned Thomas about them.

It appears, even though he has very limited vision, that Thomas is a builder. He claims with a good plumb bob, an accurate square, a hand full of marbles, and a pan of water, even the blind are able to build. Working as a fisherman when he was recruited by Jesus the Messiah, aka Jam-Man, Thomas first learned the lessons of his rabbi and then his rabbi’s trade as a builder.

“I wouldn’t have believed that my building skills would be so important, but Raj Gondophares has commissioned me to build him a palace. So, I have come back to Jerusalem to get my tools. It’s not that they don’t make tools in India, but I’m used to these. They are the tools the Jam-Man also used and gave to me.

“Yeah, that’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it.”

One of the first things you notice about Thomas is his vision. His eyes are milky white and he is almost sightless. He walks with one of his acolytes now, but he was most often seen walking with Jesus or one of the other disciples back in the day. His nicknames, Ditto or Didymus, even Thomas itself, meaning twin, were not given him because he was genetically related to one of them or anyone else for that matter; he was so-called because he was always connected to another disciple by touch.

“I know the guys say that I went to India because of a night vision, but the truth of the matter is that I just had a vision. The night and the day are both alike to me. Maybe it was at night.

“I wasn’t going to go, but the young man I was walking with that day ran off when this merchant and soldiers showed up. I felt a little like Samson for a while there. One minute I felt like I was in control of my life and my destiny, the next minute I was seized and made a slave for the entertainment of the merchant Abbanes.

“Abbanes took me to India; I started talking about the days of walking with the Jam-Man and how he had lifted me up from the life of drudgery and social death from my blindness and how he had taught me to build things; and, pretty soon, I was given permission to build a church.

“I’m sure that they didn’t believe that I could do it, but, when I did, people were really impressed and asked me to build another. Finally, Raj Gondophares told me to build him a palace.

“Okay, I’m back here in part to let the Raj cool off a little. He told me to build him a palace the gods would be proud of. When he said that, I recalled the young, rich kid that came to the Jam-Man that day. I didn’t think that I could convince the Raj any more than the Jam-Man could convince that kid…so, I decided to help the Raj along. I took his money and gave it to the poor. Each day when he would ask me how things were going, I told him that the work on his palace was progressing magnificently. One day he came out to see the palace, and, of course, nothing was there.

“When the Raj asked for the money back, I told him that I had spent it on building the palace that God would be proud of.

“‘But where is the palace?’ he asked me.

“I told him that I had given his money to the poor and that these people would be the living stones that would build for him a magnificent place in heaven.

“I guess Raj Gondophares doesn’t have a sense of humor and couldn’t appreciate the living conditions of the poor. He definitely didn’t get the Jam-Man’s memo about loving one another, so I decided to come home and get my tools while he cools off. I should really be able to show them how to build with my own tools in my hands.”

Asked about his tools, Thomas was more than willing to show them off. I was surprised at how well they seemed to fit his hands and how lovingly he handled them. I reminded him that he had said earlier that all he really needed was a square, a plumb bob, a hand full of marbles and a pan of water, and then indicated that I saw many more tools than that.

Thomas explained, “Well, of course you need more tools than that for all of the adornments, but plumb bob and square along with the marbles and the pan of water keep everything just so, you know.”

I understood the use of the plumb bob and the square, but asked him about the marbles and pan of water.

He clarified it for me. “Oh, yeah, put a marble on top of something you are building, and you can tell the lean by which way the marble rolls. The pan of water can tell you how far you’re off. If the water starts running out on one side, you know you’re in trouble. Then it’s time to do some serious shimming. Usually the marble is enough, but they can get away from you sometimes, and then you have to go looking for them. The pan of water is also more accurate. Sometimes I need to have one of my helpers check it out, but for the most part you can skim the palm of your hand over it and feel the variation on the walls of the pan. For the most part, the plumb bob and the square do the job. The rest is showing off.”

As interested as I am in these stories, I am most interested in those early days of The Way. In order to get back on track, I asked Thomas why he was known as Doubting Thomas, a term he dismissed.

“The guys never called me Doubting anything. That came from a bunch of people who didn’t want to believe that a blind guy could be part of the gang with the Jam-Man.

“You know, in those early days, soldiers were everywhere. They were looking for us because they claimed that we had stolen Messiah’s body in order to scam Rome. We had our safe house, really, it was just a safe room, where we gathered, but, too much activity around there, and it wouldn’t have been safe anymore. So, I volunteered to slip out at night when people wouldn’t be as likely to notice me moving around without a lantern or a torch ’cuz, like, I didn’t need one. I knew that part of town pretty well, and so I could get around by myself easily. All I needed to do was get away from there before it got too light and then not come back until after it was dark again.

“During the day, I could get the news and talk with some of my friends. Mostly I hung out with the beggars outside the temple or at one of the city gates. I liked the Dung Gate the best because the people were pretty friendly there. In this way, I picked up some change and bought food for the rest of the guys.

“I did say that I would lead any of them out, but they were pretty scared. Rocky was so full of self-recrimination I wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t go and do the same thing the Bag Man had done. And the rest of them were suffering from extreme disillusionment.

“I was more interested in living and being around the living. That room got to be like a tomb of its own, and I’ll tell you, ten guys living in one room for any time at all makes the stink of the tomb smell sweet. Nate the Great had a particular issue with flatulence that made close confines challenging. Now you know how he got the great attached to his name.

“One night when I returned, the guys were all excited. They said that the Jam-Man had come and stood among them, that he had spoken with them and then breathed on them. Philip said that he didn’t even have halitosis like Lazarus had had.

“I told them that it was a nice try, but I wouldn’t believe them until I put my finger in the marks of the nails in his hands and put my hand in the hole in his side. I mean, that’s how a blind guy sees, ya know?

“So, it was a few days later when the Jam-Man showed again. One minute he wasn’t there, and then, all of a sudden, he was. When he called me, I wasn’t really sure that it was him. He sounded like himself…sort of…but…different. He told me to give him my finger, so I did. I gave him my reading finger and then knew it was him. From where I stood, the marks were just dark spots, but there is no way that you could fake those holes.

“Of course, I claimed him. It wasn’t so much that I had ever doubted him, but I did question the other guys. They’d pulled some fast ones on me before, but the Jam-Man, he always treated me like real people, ya know?

“There were so many political maneuverings in those days—the issue of Beloved, some trying to prove that the Jam-Man hadn’t risen, the ‘Gentiles are Welcome’ program, whether women were to be acknowledged as disciples. The thought of me being blind was just too much for many early followers to swallow, so they thought that it would be better to call me a doubter than blind, so to them I became Doubting Thomas.

“I mean, what do I care. I’m going back to India. I have my own life to live, and it is going to be a long way away from them. I’ll do fine as long as Raj Gondophares chills a little. I mean it’s not like he’s really going to miss the money.”

Before I could ask anything more, Thomas rushed on.

“I’m afraid that I’m going to have to go. Mummsy is over at John’s place, and a few of the other guys are back for a conference. Rocky’s supposed to be there with the other guy with sight trouble, Saul or Paul, something like that. He’s annoying because he never fully recovered from the flash blindness on the Damascus road, and he’s always talking about having the thorn in his flesh being removed and his self-consciousness about writing so big. I keep telling him to just get on with his life. You can’t live backwards—that’s like being dead. The Jam-Man is all about life and living. Maybe he’ll come around.

“In the meantime, Mummsy has probably made her famous chicken casserole again ’cuz Rocky’s going to be there. She really does know how to cook other things. You know, she’s a pretty good cook, but, somehow, she’s just got to push Rocky’s buttons.

“Well, it’s been nice talking. Luv ya, man.”

With that, Thomas got up and walked over to where his acolyte was waiting with his burro. He pushed his elbow out a little nudging Thomas. Thomas took his elbow and off they went.

It's Not About the Blind Guy, John 9:1-41

Before we begin, I want you to take a moment to think about one thing that you know well enough to teach someone else. It doesn’t need to be complicated or involved, and I’m not trying to say that it is the only thing or the most important thing you know. I just want it to be something that you feel competent in and something that you are comfortable sharing with others.

 

For me, this is one of the most difficult stories to preach on. And yet, it is one of the stories that I might be most qualified to talk with you about, but there is the difficulty. I could talk with you about this text for the next day or so and not run out of material and never get to the good news. So, let me say from the beginning that this text is not about a blind guy. It is all about identity, community, and acceptance.

Let us begin. At the beginning of this story, the identity of the person born blind is firmly established. He has a family. He has a job, that is, begging, and he has a community, the other professional beggars sanctioned by Scripture. His identity is that of the blind beggar. It is not an identity that people are going to study for, but he is recognized by his community and welcomed there. Where ever he would go to beg, he would be known and welcomed. He is one of a number of people who are permitted by Mosaic law to beg. Indeed, God’s people are commanded to share their alms with those who have the right to beg. Because he is an adult, he has probably been begging for years. He has made enough money at this job to support or help support himself and his family.

Although he is to be supported by the alms of the people, and is mentioned favorably in Leviticus 19:14, “Do not revile the deaf or put a stumbling block before the blind. You shall fear your God! I am the Lord,” he is not allowed into the synagogue. As this story begins he is outside of the synagogue with his own identity. What happens next is that this man’s entire identity changes in a matter of moments. Afterwards this man who was formerly blind loses everything that has meant anything to him. His status in the community changes—those around him, his neighbors and others, challenge whether he is the same person or someone who looks like him amid his protestations of claiming to be the same person he used to be.

He is challenged by the synagogue court, brought before the Pharisees, and questioned about this new life he is leading. He is challenged to prove that he was not sighted before. At last his parents are brought before the synagogue, and, in fear, they turn away from their son and make him speak for himself since, as a sighted person, he is able to enter the synagogue.

Finally, after further questioning, the man is cast out of the synagogue, the synagogue he was not able to be part of before, and he sits outside the synagogue destitute. He has no identity. He has no profession. He has no community. He has no family. He has this gift of new vision, but no one to share it with. No one to share it with until Jesus finds this man again.

This story, which has most oftentimes been preached as this amazing miracle, a story of celebration, may be one of the greatest struggles in and of the Scriptures. As Jacob’s confrontation at the Jabbok river with God, that great wrestling match back in Genesis, resulted in a change in Jacob’s identity, so now the man who was formerly blind has a new identity. Jacob’s wrestling match changes his name from Jacob to Israel for he wrestled with God, and he carried the limp from his hip being dislocated for the rest of his life. This man will wrestle with seeing for the rest of his life, and yet he is never named. So, what is this story about?

As I said, I do not believe that this story is about the man born blind. It is all about identity, community, and acceptance. Further, I believe that this story is for us today and challenges us in all kinds of ways. Again, let us begin.

I cannot think of a time when we, that is the Church, have been challenged in our identity the way we are being challenged today. The old days of being able to be the moral compass of our communities, of being places where we could quietly study the Bible and get baptized, confirmed, married, and buried are gone. The days of living in a world where people assumed that everybody is Christian and that we lived in a Christian world (an illusion we often carry), are gone. The days of living quietly in our own corner of the world without concern for what is happening in other parts of the world is long time gone.

I tell you today, Christ is standing before us, mixing up the stuff of creation, God’s spit and dirt, forming us into a new Adam, a new community, with new ways of living. This is the world of artificial joints and limbs; heart transplants, kidney transplants and even lung transplants. We are living in a cyber-world that not only allows instant communication, but demands it. We live in a world that not only doesn’t care about the poor among us, it brags about creating systems that will continue to deprive the poorest of the poor of their very dignity. The days of food baskets anonymously showing up on our neighbors’ doorsteps as they did so many times in the midst of the Great Depression are long gone.

It is time for us to have our eyes opened. It is time to wrestle with the disapproval of those around us. It is time to even leave our families for the vision of God’s possibility kingdom before us. It will not be easy. But when it is all said and done, the one who searches out the outcasts will find us too, and that one will reveal himself to us, reminding us that we have met before, and that we will be able to walk together with a new identity received in the new life given to us in baptism, in the relationship with new eyes to see God’s work in the world, shaped from clay in his image, and claimed as children of God.

It has been many years since Daniel Berrigan said this, but his words are still true today. “The mark of a Christian is that you must look good on wood.” We are called, gathered, and challenged to see the world around us—to see the world around us with all of its sores and scabs, and then we are sent into that world to be the body of Christ for our neighbors, to be the ones who will stand before the outcasts of the world with words of encouragement and acceptance.

We are the ones who can offer the purifying waters of Siloam to a mud-covered, thirsty world that it might be sent with the living waters of endurance and hope, with the character of Christ and the anointing of the Holy Spirit. It is a hope that gives new identity. It is a hope that comes with pain. It is a hope that depends on and builds new communities of faith. It is a hope that accepts the gifts we have been given and uses them.

The man born blind receives his sight so that we might see. He suffers the challenges of that world so that we might know that there is life beyond rejection. He wrestles with his seeing and shows us the way to true vision in the one who makes all things possible, Jesus Christ, our Lord and savior. No, this story is not about the man born blind, it is about us today, the people of Albany Lutheran Church. You did not ask for it, but Jesus, while he was passing, stooped down and opened your eyes. What do you see? What are you going to do about it?

Again, let us begin. Remember that thing that you know well enough to teach? When are you going to start teaching it? How can we help you make that happen?

New World Vision

March 26, 2017

John 9 “I am the light of the world.”

Leviticus 19:14 “You shall not revile the deaf or put a stumbling block before the blind; You shall fear your God: I am the Lord.”

Deuteronomy 27:18 “”Cursed be anyone who misleads a blind person on the road.” All the people shall say, “Amen!”

New World Vision

When, in a world of fearful darkness where disability and misfortune are regarded as signs of sin, Jesus and his disciples encounter a man born blind, Jesus sheds new light on the condition of blindness. It is not about sin, but “that the works of God might be revealed....” In a world of darkness, Jesus claims a place of light and vision: “As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

 

Jesus’ bold, challenging statement continues to lead Christians in their faith. In the Eucharist service, the assembly proclaims the great mystery of their faith: “Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.” With this proclamation they recognize the historicity of the crucifixion, Christ’s continued presence in the world, and an eschatological future that includes Christ in all of history.

 

For a world that does not see the opportunities of community wholeness, but instead maintains a place of separateness, blindness continues to be a choice rather than a physical condition. In this darkness, however, Christ’s light continues to shine showing us a new way to live.

 

Christ continues to take the creative dust of the world and makes mud for the eyes of the blind to be washed away to enable them to see new ways of living. And from the baptismal waters, the cleansed, just like the blind man sent to wash in the pool of Siloam, see new ways of living and are sent into the world to witness to and cooperate in revealing God’s work of healing wholeness.

 

This new way of interacting with the world will not always be easy. There will be those who, like the Pharisees, challenge this new vision, but, with Christ’s presence before them, the faithful continue to believe and worship in their churches and daily lives in the daylight of Christ’s resurrection world.

Correction: Former Blind Guy Sues Jesus!

THE ANGELUS TRUMPET           

The Unexpurgated Source for Alternative Bible Facts

 

Correction

Former Blind Guy Sues Jesus!

 

Dateline: Jerusalem, March 26, 09:01:41

by Jack D. Sypal

Some may not be able to admit that they are wrong, but we at The AngelUS Trumpet value revealing the complete truth. What follows is a corrected copy of Mr I. Seituwel’s statement published in today’s earlier edition. We apologize for this extreme case of parablepsis and over-correction resulting in mishandling the first paragraph in his statement of the situation. The full article is included for your convenience.

On Sabbath Day last, it is alleged that Jesus gave sight to a man who was blind from birth. Now this same former blind man is suing Jesus for lack of income, loss of companionship, and severe emotional distress.
I spoke with this man at length. What follows is Mr. I. Seituwel’s story in his own words. It is a rather lengthy statement, but I think you will find it enlightening, both as to how this itinerant “do-gooder” works and the ramifications of his actions.

“I was minding my own business, begging as I always did outside the city wall, when this guy came up and spit on me. It wasn’t the first time I had been spit on, so I was prepared, sort of, but then this guy smeared mud all over my face. Afterwards he said, “Your face is dirty. Go wash your face in the pool of Siloam.” He wasn’t as nasty as some have been, so I went.

“Little did I know that, when I washed my face, my sight would be given to me and that getting my sight would be the beginning of myriad, nightmarish problems.

“The first thing that happened after I washed my face was that this excruciating pain hit me in the head. I now know that it was light, but who would have thought that it would be so painful. When things started flying at me from all directions, I suddenly fainted. I guess it was sensory overload, or at least that is what some of the doctors have said.

“After that, the guys I used to hang with refused to talk with me because I didn’t belong anymore. Other people refused to recognize me at all. My friends have left me. Even my family turned on me.

“In the meantime, my means of making a living is gone. Having sight means that I can’t beg outside the city wall.

“Some think that I had been faking it all along, and so they have brought fraud charges against me, and the police are after me.  

“The temple is after me because they think I’m a new disciple of this Jesus guy, and they want me to point him out to them. I can’t get them to understand that I never saw the person and probably couldn’t identify him anyways.

“I still don’t know what half of the stuff I see is. I have to close my eyes and listen to stuff or touch it in order to know what most stuff is. I’m terrified of moving around the country because I don’t know if what I am seeing is safe or not. The other day I saw something dark in front of me, and, when I stepped on it, I fell all the way to the bottom of a cistern. I could have broken my neck. As it was, I was pretty scraped up. Who knew? If my eyes hadn’t been opened, if I had been using my stick, I would never have had that problem. Everyone wants me to be sighted, but I have no idea what that means!

“If I had asked for this, it might be different. But, I was just sitting there minding my own business. I want my life back. Short of that, I want compensation for all of the insults and disparaging comments I’ve endured. I never had much before, but I had blind faith and a good reputation. Now what do I have?

“People ought to be more considerate before they start showing off with their special powers. Did I ask for this? No!!! So, I think that it is only right that he ought to pay for my troubles.”

Former Blind Guy Sues Jesus!

THE ANGELUS TRUMPET           

The Unexpurgated Source for Alternative Bible Facts

 

Former Blind Guy Sues Jesus!

Dateline: Jerusalem, March 26, 09:01:41

by Jack D. Sypal

On Sabbath Day last, it is alleged that Jesus gave sight to a man who was blind from birth. Now this same former blind man is suing Jesus for lack of income, loss of companion-ship, and severe emotional distress.

I spoke with this man at length. What follows is Mr. I. Seituwel’s story in his own words. It is a rather lengthy statement, but I think you will find it enlightening, both as to how this itinerant “do-gooder” works and the ramifica-tions of his actions.

“I was minding my own business, begging as I always did outside the city wall, when this guy came up and spit on me. It wasn’t the first time I had been spit on, so I was prepared, sort of, but then this guy told me to go wash my face in the pool of Siloam. It’s not as nasty as some, so I went.

“Little did I know that, when I washed my face, my sight would be given to me and that getting my sight would be the beginning of myriad, nightmarish problems.

“The first thing that happened after I washed my face was that this excruciating pain hit me in the head. I now know that it was light, but who would have thought that it would be so painful. When things started flying at me from all directions, I suddenly fainted. I guess it was sensory overload, or at least that is what some of the doctors have said.

“After that, the guys I used to hang with refused to talk with me because I didn’t belong anymore. Other people refused to recognize me at all. My friends have left me. Even my family turned on me.

“In the meantime, my means of making a living is gone. Having sight means that I can’t beg outside the city wall.

“Some think that I had been faking it all along, and so they have brought fraud charges against me, and the police are after me.  

“The temple is after me because they think I’m a new disciple of this Jesus guy, and they want me to point him out to them. I can’t get them to understand that I never saw the person and probably couldn’t identify him anyways.

“I still don’t know what half of the stuff I see is. I have to close my eyes and listen to stuff or touch it in order to know what most stuff is. I’m terrified of moving around the country because I don’t know if what I am seeing is safe or not. The other day I saw something dark in front of me, and, when I stepped on it, I fell all the way to the bottom of a cistern. I could have broken my neck. As it was, I was pretty scraped up. Who knew? If my eyes hadn’t been opened, if I had been using my stick, I would never have had that problem. Everyone wants me to be sighted, but I have no idea what that means!

“If I had asked for this, it might be different. But, I was just sitting there minding my own business. I want my life back. Short of that, I want compensation for all of the insults and disparaging comments I’ve endured. I never had much before, but I had a good reputation. Now what do I have?

“People ought to be more considerate before they start showing off with their special powers. Did I ask for this? No!!! So, I think that it is only right that he ought to pay for my troubles.”

Snow Under Your Feet

I was sitting at the kitchen table just after breakfast thinking about what to do, and, like so many nine-year olds, I didn’t have sense enough to keep my wonderings to myself. “I’m bored. What’s there to do?” I asked.

Without any hesitation, my mom, washing the breakfast dishes said, “Grab the dishtowel and wipe these dishes; then go shovel the snow.”

This was 1962; I had recently lost my sight for the first time and was finding my way into blindness. Because there were some chores around the house I disliked and because I was testing the limits of what I could get out of doing because I was blind, I pleaded greater helplessness than my capabilities. I had already tested the dishwashing and wiping projects, and so I knew that I was stuck there, but snow shoveling?

As I went to the end of the counter to get the dishtowel, I said, “But I can’t see the sidewalk. How can I shovel it?”

Laughing, Mom quipped, “I can’t see the sidewalk either. The snow is covering it.” Then, with more patience, she said, “Peter, think about it. You know where the sidewalk is, and you know there is snow outside. You know how to shovel. You even like to shovel snow. So, if there’s snow under your feet, you need to shovel it.”

“But how will I know where the edge of the sidewalk is,” I asked, hoping this might change the decision.

“When you hit the grass edge, you stop,” she said.

“But what if I miss the edge of the grass and shovel out into the street,” I asked, thinking that I could arrange that easily.

“I’ll watch from inside and, if you get out in the street, I’ll come get you.”

“But what if I go too far,” I asked, not wanting to do too much shoveling.

“Then the neighbors will come out and thank you,” she laughed.

I knew I was stuck, but I had to try one more time. “But, what if I throw the snow too far and it gets on the neighbor’s driveway?”

“I’ll come out and clean up afterwards if that’s a problem,” she said.

So, when the dishes were dried and I had complained again about finding the right place for the frying pan, I put on my hat and coat, my boots and mittens and headed out into the snow.

It was my intention to prove that this was a chore that needed to have sight to be done properly. I started to scoop haphazardly and indiscriminately, but, after a few scoops of snow, I discovered that it was too difficult to keep my bearings and continue to do a bad job.

Besides, Mom was right; for some perverse reason, I liked to shovel snow. I was proud of the fact that at nine, I could handle the full-sized shovel, and, besides, cleared sidewalks made it easier for me to get around. So, after a few more feeble attempts at looking helpless, because I knew that my mom and sister would be looking out the window, I finally went back to the side door and started over. This was my introduction to my dance with winter.

What I discovered that day is that snow shoveling isn’t about seeing so much as it is about rhythm. Shoveling involves a kind of dance one does with winter. It is not elegant, but the foot-plant, scrape, brace, lift, throw and shuffle of snow shoveling are rhythmically dancelike.

After the muscles are warmed up and your rhythm gets started, the mind is able to disconnect in order to consider other issues, problems, and concerns. At times, the repetitious movement has given me time to pray, but that came much later. On that first day, I learned the fundamental steps of the dance and gained a sense of accomplishment. An hour later I was finished.

When I came back into the house, I was hot; I was tired; my clothes were wet with sweat. I was done, and Mom was waiting at the top of the stairs. She said, “I almost came out to get you, and then you finally set your mind to do it. We’ve got the cleanest walk on the block. How ‘bout some hot chocolate?” I don’t know whether her praise was true, but after that day I was hooked. I could shovel snow and it was good.

I learned several things about problem solving that day that have proved helpful throughout my life, but the single best lesson I learned that day was to shovel the snow under your feet. There is no trick to this. If, in the midst of winter’s dance, you feel snow under your feet at the end of the shuffle, go back and scoop again. It is this last step that has influenced so much of how I approach life.

Her Name Was Saphronie

But she was always Miss Peterson to me. She wasn’t quite five feet tall. She had been blind all of her life. She started teaching the week after she graduated from high school and then worked her way through college during summer school. In 1962 she was my fourth grade teacher, and, later in life, she became a model of faith for me. At eighty-four, she had cancer and needed a ride to the treatment center. I had gotten my sight back by that time and could drive, so I drove Miss Peterson to her appointments for several weeks.

Following each treatment, I took her to a Bible study where her friend, a professor at the university, was part of a study on the book of Psalms. It was part of an ongoing Bible study where professors could come and speak about their faith with students at the Lutheran Campus Center. It was fairly academic, so I mostly took notes and kept my mouth shut. This Bible study was my first real introduction to scholastic disciplines that could be used as helpful tools for interpreting God’s living word. The conversation was miles above me, and yes, I was a little intimidated by my professors talking about their faith and admitting to wrestling with faith issues.

Now you have to understand that, although I had great respect for Miss Peterson as a teacher, her years of service, the years of activism and commitment to advancing living conditions for blind people around the state, and, although I knew that she was involved in the life of her church in Janesville, I thought of Miss Peterson as an aging elementary school teacher who had been retired for many years and not current in modern biblical study.

Since I was a student and she was a guest, I was unprepared for her standing up during one of the studies to raise questions and challenge some of the ideas of these university professors. What shocked me more was that she quoted extended passages from the Psalms from memory, apologizing for only knowing the King James Version of the Bible when we were using the New Revised Standard version. She revealed she had memorized all 150 Psalms when she was young and not taken the time to memorize the newer versions, and so she hoped they would forgive her antiquated language.

Yes, I was amazed. Her questions were appropriate, insightful, and poignant. This was my fourth grade teacher. She was holding her own with these university professors, and I was proud to claim her as my friend and mentor.

Following the study that day, one of the women came and talked with Saphronie. She said, “You are such an inspiration to all of us. I can’t believe that you have memorized all 150 Psalms.”

Saphronie replied, I’m blind, I’m not retarded.”

Taken aback, the woman continued, “I know that you have cancer and are taking treatment, so I wanted to tell you that, as talented and gifted as you are, I know that, when you get to heaven, you will be completely healed and able to see just like the rest of us.”

I had smiled at Miss Peterson’s first response, but I was totally unprepared for her next statement, “If God won’t take me the way I am, then I don’t want to go.”

What Saphronie Peterson understood and believed more concretely than most of the seminary professors I have studied with since is that, if we have to change in order to be acceptable to God, then our challenging lives and the struggles we encounter have no meaning because what makes us who we are is the sum of our life experiences. If we need to change ourselves or be changed in order to be acceptable in God’s eternal kingdom, then we are no longer who we are and the goodness of our creation is discounted.

Is there anyone who believes that a black person needs to become white in order be part of God’s eternal kingdom? Do we think that everyone will have red hair? Do we have to leave our race, our sexuality, our nationalities, or our knowledge here and have all of that changed in order to be acceptable to God? Do we really believe that we are created in God’s image? That means all of us, and that we are good. Or do we think that only some of us are truly God’s creation? Can we say with confidence that our wholeness comes from Christ and not from ourselves?

If we are all created in the image of God and our wholeness comes from Christ, then is it possible that God’s being is so far beyond our understanding that not only is God’s image able to be understood as male and female, but that God’s image can also be known as black and brown and red and white and yellow, gay and straight, and able-bodied and disabled, and smart and cognitively challenged? Is it possible that since the one who is raised up from the dead; the one who appears to us with the marks of the crown of thorns, lash marks, and holes in his hands, feet and side; the one who shows that what was once death producing is now death defying is the one who appears before the disciples without change, that we might also retain our worldly marks in the death defying life of God’s eternal kingdom? Might it be that the great change in 1 Cor. 15: 51-58 is only about the perishable putting on imperishability and the mortal putting on immortality so that death might be terminally defeated in a way that does not disparage or discount the lives that we live but, instead, lifts up our lives as having great value in shaping who and whose we are? Can we know the breadth and depth of God’s love and forgiveness if we cannot come before him as we are? And if we need to change, can God even be God? Does not knowing who and whose we are enable us with Paul to say, “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?”

I am reassured by the thief on the cross in Luke’s Gospel.  “But the other [criminal] rebuked [the first] saying, ‘Do you not fear God since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.’ Then he said, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’ [Jesus] replied, ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.’” (Luke 23: 40-43, NRSV)

Jesus does not tell the criminal that he must first repent of all of his ways. The criminal need not repay what he has stolen nor repent of the lives he has taken. Jesus does not tell the criminal that he needs to change, but only to know him and to lead his life from this time onward bearing witness to who Christ is. The only person in Scripture to be assured of paradise is accepted as he is.

So, with Miss Peterson, small in stature, blind in life and faith, holding onto: the rock of our salvation, our present help in time of trouble, the one slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, the good shepherd, the mother hen who longs to gather us under her wings, I stand by her side. If God won’t take me the way I am, then I don’t want to go either.

Thank God for God’s grace revealed to us in the person of Jesus the Christ who redeems us and forgives us even when we don’t know what we’re doing. Let us stand firm in our faith, secure in the wholeness of Christ’s incarnational body, without sight but with a vision of God’s kingdom that includes us all. Yes, let us go in Christ’s shalom wholeness and peace, loving and serving God!