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Today's Lenten Devotion
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The Way, the Truth, the Life
Jesus said to him [Thomas], "I am the way, and the truth, and the life.
No one comes to the Father except through me."
-- John 14.6
My father was a drive by Christian. He would drive by the church on Sundays pausing long enough to drop me off or pick me up. He felt he was fulfilling his baptismal promises. I was lucky. This particular church gave new classes a teacher who would work with them until they were ready to be confirmed. My class was assigned to a husband and wife team, the Hepners. The first thing I learned was that Jesus loved me. We sang it, they said it, and I believed it. That knowledge was enough for me as a small child.
When we were a bit older they taught us about the Bible. I was ten when we began looking at the psalms. I learned a phrase that has had meaning for me in my life: "The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear?" Psalm 27 and again Psalm 46: "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in times of trouble ... Therefore we will not fear ... " The psalmists' words resonated with me at that time in my life as my uncle age 42 had just died, and my aunt was trying very hard to recover from the horrors she had seen as an Army nurse in World War II.
After Confirmation I felt lost at St. Paul and began attending the Episcopal Church with my friends. Again I met another committed couple, the Clarks. They taught us on Sunday mornings and led Youth Group Sunday nights. Each Sunday night as Youth Group ended we formed a circle, joined hands, and recited the Nunc Dimittis ... "Lord, now lettest thy servant depart in peace according to your word for mine eyes have seen your salvation ... " Truly, I had. I was standing in the presence of earthly salvation, people who lived the committed Christian life.
The next big step in my faith journey was taken at Gettysburg College. In my freshman year chapel was still compulsory. I had to attend three times a week. No escaping it, they took attendance. I would sit in chapel and look straight at the words "I am the way, and the truth, and the life ... " More than the sermons or the liturgy those words had an impact on me. We also had to study both the Old and the New Testaments, and during the course of these studies I knew once again that the Jesus who loved me would be my companion and guide as I moved forward in life.
I am no theologian. I guess that I would call myself a catch phrase Christian. The catch phrases that stuck with me came from the Bible or from the few theological works I had read. As I took my place in the adult world, I knew certain things. Jesus loved me, God was my refuge and strength in times of trouble, love thy neighbor as yourself, and Jesus the way, the truth and the life was the way to the Father. I knew that I wanted to live a committed life so that perhaps I could make a difference in some other child's life. I decided to become a teacher and worked toward that end.
A year later I was facing a room of first graders. My acquired knowledge of history, philosophy, puppet making, statistical analysis, and child psychology deserted me as the children squirmed and chattered filled with excitement. Somehow we managed to pull it together and the year went forward. I especially remember one little girl, Donna. She was bubbly, giggly, and talkative. No matter what I did she just could not keep quiet. Eventually I put her desk next to mine so that the other children could work in peace. As the year wore on, I wore down. I was dimly aware that Donna was the first real test to my belief in Jesus as the way, the truth, and the life ... .
Donna had a way of driving people to distraction. She taught me that loving the "unlovable" isn't easy when they are chattering in your ear. Her mother confessed to me that she never let Donna stay home from school. I wondered if I could endure all 180 days of togetherness. Donna found great satisfaction in our relationship. Eventually she would spend time with me after school too. I felt that giving this child some attention when others pushed her aside was what I was called to do.
In my mind I felt that I had followed the example of Jesus by tolerating the child's presence. A few years later I had a rude awakening. One day my phone rang and a friend from the school asked me if I had heard about the fire. I was devastated to learn that Donna, her sister, and parents had died in a fire that destroyed their home. Donna's death added a new dimension to my understanding of Jesus' words. Now I knew that when Jesus called us to love our fellow man he was not talking about mere tolerance. It took the finality of her death to make me realize that my attention had amounted to tolerance not acceptance. I felt that I had failed the test of my faith.
Years later I went back to teaching. I had learned to focus on the good in people rather than dwell on their faults. It was a step closer to the love we are called to as Christians. As the years passed I grew in this ability and the children felt cared about. They trusted me and wanted to learn. Life was good.
However, good things do not always last forever. After about twelve years at St. John's I was faced with a new challenge. I had to deal with a teacher whose dislike for me bordered on hatred. Love thy enemies is no piece of cake when you are the hated. When she refused to sit down with the principal and me to see if we could iron things out, the confusion I felt gave way to anger. Fortunately the weekend was about to begin. By Monday I had gained perspective on the situation. Her behavior was not going to dictate mine.
My response to her behavior towards me was to keep on being myself. I focused on my job, teaching. It was difficult, but I managed not to change my way of relating to her. I greeted her in the morning and wished her a nice evening when I left. I smiled at her unsmiling face when we passed in the hall. Nothing I did changed her feelings towards me, but what I did changed my feelings towards her. I saw her differently and my anger evaporated. Life went on. The situation got worse before it got better. One night the principal called me to warn me that the teacher had left the school that day vowing to "get me." "God is my refuge and strength a very present help in times of trouble." I knew that I would be able to handle whatever transpired the following day. Jesus, the way, the truth, the life would guide my actions if I managed to let him.
As I walked into the building in the morning, I knew that two little words were not going to change my actions. Needless to say, she did not have an opportunity to get me because God gave me the strength not to give in to her anger.
All stories do not have bad endings. Her actions gave me the opportunity to have a unique teaching experience. I got to teach the same group of children part of each day for five years. During the years of anger I stayed and taught in fifth grade even though it was not my specialty. At first I resented what amounted to my exile from the middle school grades, but came to enjoy teaching fifth grade. I did not teach religion so when my class was having religion, I taught science in fourth grade. This was the beginning of our journey. I admit that I fell in love with them the first week we worked together when they were beginning fourth grade.
The following year, they began fifth grade on a Wednesday. Everything was sweetness and light until Friday mass. As we went to mass, one of the boys, Philip, was hanging back. I told him to get into his place in line. He ended up sitting in the middle of the row.
When we were passing the peace, I noticed that he stood with his hand out, but no one was shaking it. When we said the Lord's prayer the chain was visibly broken because no one reached out to take his hands. This bothered me, but in the excitement of a new beginning I forgot to look into it further.
It happened again the following week except that this time one person shook his hand, me. Clearly something unchristian was going on. I decided to address the situation with an edict. However, I did not want to be obvious and make him feel worse. In the middle of an English lesson, I turned away from the board asked the class if they thought it was God's will that the chain was broken when we prayed the Lord's prayer. I had taken them by surprise. At first they looked puzzled but as the words sank in the guilty looks began to appear. Of course, no one wanted to answer but in the face of my unrelenting silence one brave soul finally said, " No". Next I asked, "If it was not God's will whose was it?" Someone answered, "Ours." "Wow, while we are praying that God's will be done we still do what we want!" I remarked as I turned back to the board and went on with English.
As we lined up for mass the next week I issued my edict. Each person had to shake the hand of the person in front, behind, and on both sides during the passing of the peace. Most of the children complied. They had all figured out that there would be no broken chain during the Lord's prayer and to ease the situation I let Philip hang back and sit next to me.
If mass took an upturn, group work was a nightmare, and the playground a lonely place for a solitary boy. At conference time his father came in, and we had to address the social issues Philip faced. His father broke down and cried when he told me how hard it was for his son and asked me to help his child. I wanted to cry too, but I managed to hold it together and worked out a plan for the boy to go to the counselor to work on social skills.
I knew that his classmates were entrenched in their negative attitudes towards him. I also knew that I had to do the best I could to turn this situation around. I prayed that in some way I could get these children to understand that their behavior was not in line with the way Jesus wanted us to live and inspire them to change their attitudes towards the isolated boy. I also had to be careful not to go too far and make the situation worse for him.
The girls came around first. They knew what I expected and were still young enough to want to meet those expectations. The boys were hardcore, but pushing them was not the answer.
Philip's father took an active role in his son's life. He became an assistant coach for the basketball team, and the boys who were the most rejecting found that he did not discriminate against them for the way they were treating his son.
At the end of the year, Philip was no longer the social isolate that he had been when he first came into my room. However, the class still had to grow in their acceptance of him. I had the opportunity to move up with them and the class and I agreed it would work.
The breakthrough came in sixth grade. One of the boys asked Philip over to his home to hang out. Philip had the courage to go and the other boy had the courage to tell his disbelieving classmates that no one was going to tell him whom he could like. After that there were many breakthroughs until Philip was a very popular boy in eighth grade. His father took every opportunity to thank me, but I told him to give Philip the credit. His faith had changed his life
At the end of our journey, the group dedicated their yearbook to me. As they presented me with the first copy of the book, they read the dedication. In one statement they told me I had taken them farther than they ever thought they could go. That puzzled me, as they were a bright class. Finally I realized that, in part, they were referring to the transformation that had taken place within each of us in our journey of almost 900 days.
Jesus, the way, the truth, and the life. First I had to know about Jesus. Then I had to learn about the way that He wanted me to live. Once I committed myself to the Christian life I had to grow in my understanding of the way, the truth, and the life Jesus asked me to follow so that I could reflect to others a glimpse of the God in whose image I was made.
Barbara Blank
stblank1@msn.com
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