The parson was emptying the trash cans at the eatery his church operated at the regional fair. He was tying off one full bag after relining the can with a new one. A voice interrupted his skilled seminary-trained labor.
“Hey, parson, they said I could take a break. You ready to take one, too?”
Ginger, the parson's favorite twelve-year-old and on her way to being ordained church member, had been manning the order window throughout the evening.
“That
sounds great, Ginger. Let me haul this trash over to the dumpster and
wash my hands.”
“Okay, you need help with the trash?”
“I can handle this one. I'll be right back.”
The parson carried the trash bag away and returned to the screened porch dining area where Ginger sat waiting in less than two minutes. He headed into the food preparation area and washed his hands, and then returned to Ginger.
“Ready?”
She jumped up. “I'm ready. Let's go.”
Ginger and the parson headed down the lane lined on both sides with carnival food booths and carnival games where workers trying to entice the willing to toss rings, to shoot hoops, to engage in any number of games of chance in which the odds were tilted away. The parson reached into his pocket and pulled out a purple plastic bracelet. He handed it to Ginger.
“What's this?”
“When you're wearing that bracelet you can ride any of the rides free.”
“Are you serious?”
“No, I'm the Parson.”
“Funny, funny.”
“Look, I've got a bracelet, too,” the parson informed. “So, what's your choice for the first ride?”
“You're going to ride with me?”
“I”m going to ride with you, unless you've got a boyfriend stashed along here somewhere.”
“Funny, funny.”
“Pick one.”
“Do you think I could ride that Ring of Fire?”
“I guess so.” The parson looked down the lane toward the ride that dominated the fair grounds. The Ring of Fire was a 360° upright track with roller coaster cars that at the apex had the occupants hanging upside down in the open cars. “But you have to promise not to throw up on me.”
“Funny, funny.”
The parson and Ginger headed to the gatekeeper of the Ring of Fire and presented their “We're Special People” bracelets. They were strapped into the first car. As they waited for the ride to fill up, Ginger began examining the structure.
“I sure hope this bar holds us in,” said Ginger.
About that time the gatekeeper announced for everyone to keep their arms up. When they did the restraint bar clicked into place.
“That's better,” said Ginger.
The ride started. Up the circular track they moved, they stopped and fell backward only to stop and begin upward again. The process repeated itself with each repetition gaining more momentum until finally they came to a full stop at the top and Ginger and the parson hung completely upside down.
“Oh, my gosh,” cried Ginger. “This is so cool!”
Then suddenly the car moved slowly forward and they flew downward toward the ground until they began the ascent again and the process repeated. Over and over again the ride continued with Ginger screaming in glee. It seemed an awfully long time before it stopped. When it did Ginger literally skipped down the ramp to the pavement.
“Thanks,” the parson whispered to the gatekeeper.
“No problem, Parson,” he replied.
Just a few feet from the ride, Ginger turned and said, “Parson, do you think we have enough time on my break to ride the ferris wheel?”
“We'll make time,” the parson said.
The ferris wheel was certainly mild compared to the Ring of Fire, but Ginger was delighted to see the sights from the top of the circle.
After two or three circuits, Ginger spoke. “Parson, can I talk to you a minute?”
“Sure, Ginger,” said the parson as he made a circular motion toward the operator on the down side.
The operator nodded.
“I've got a friend who goes to Reverend Holland's church. Do you know him?”
“I know him,” said the parson as they paused at the top while others got on at the bottom.
As their seat rocked, Ginger continued, “Well, they had a black man preach there last Sunday. My friend told me some of the members of that church didn't come to church that day because the preacher was black.”
“Oh, that's so sad,” the parson said.
“Well, it got me to wondering about something.”
“What's that.”
“I'm theologically confused,” said Ginger.
“Theologically confused?”
“Yes. Here's my question.” Their seat began moving and the circular route of the ferris wheel continued. “Those people are members of the church. So, that means they were baptized as believers in Jesus Christ. That's right; isn't it?”
“I would think so,” said the parson as he felt the wheel coming to a stop so others could exit and enter.
“They're Christians but they are acting like non-Christians. I mean, being that prejudice about someone God created is not Christian. It's just not. But they think they are Christians and they are baptized in the Christian faith. So which is it? Are they or are they not?”
The parson stared out over his parish as he contemplated this child and her penetrating questions.
“There's an old saying, Ginger. 'Always look at Christ and not the Christians.”
“That's easy to say,” said Ginger, after a half-circuit of the wheel. “But it's not Jesus standing in front of us acting like an idiot.”
The wheel paused two-thirds the way toward the bottom. The operator caught the parson's eye. He moved his fingers in a circular motion and shrugged his shoulders. The parson gave him an affirmative nod.
“Ginger,” the parson offered, “one of the hardest things for us to learn is come to the realization that when an idiot becomes a Christian what you have is a Christian idiot.”
“A Christian idiot that doesn't act like a Christian. So is a person who doesn't act like a Christian really a Christian? Or does not doing Christian things get excused because you're an idiot Christian?”
The parson felt the sway of the seat as they lingered at the top of the circuit again. Mentally he kicked himself for having skipped so many seminary classes.
“I'm not in the excusing business, Ginger. I think that's in the Lord's job description.”
“Ah, but Parson, we judge them. We judge them because we think people who are racially prejudice are idiots. I've thought about this a lot. I don't think you can judge anyone without at the same time deciding whether or not what they do is excusable.”
Ginger held her hands up in the air in a gesture of frustration. “So, here we are back at the beginning. I think they are idiots. So I've made a judgment. And at the same time my judgment that they are idiots becomes my excuse for them. So, are they Christians?”
The parson let the ferris wheel make a complete circuit before he responded.
“Ginger,” he finally said, “when I was just a little bit older than you, my grandmother taught me a poem. It went like this: 'He drew a circle and shut me out, a heretic, rebel and a thing to flout. But love and I had the wit to win, so we drew a circle that took him in.'”
The parson sat back in the seat satisfied. He made a motion to the operator and the wheel stopped when they reached the bottom.
As they exited the parson whispered, “Thanks, Ed,” to the operator.
Ginger and the parson walked silently among the crowd back toward the eatery. The break was over.
“You're kind of quiet,” said the parson.
“What's there to say, Parson. You love idiots. I'm still working on whether you love just plain idiots or Christian idiots.”
Nothing was said until they got back to their assigned duties. The parson prepared to take out more trash. Ginger pulled on an apron and made ready to take more orders.
As they moved apart, Ginger said, “I'll get back to you on this one, Parson.”
definitely a bunch of "christian" idiots. The trouble is that that's what we all are, right? "there is no one who is righteous, not even one" after all. luckily, God loved us first!
(to be picky, too--technically "judging" isn't so christian either, right?) Love the circle poem--I use it often!
Posted by: Teri | September 09, 2008 at 08:26 AM