Mazuza Consciousness
Stories
56 Stories For Preaching
Jim brought in the last of the boxes from the moving van.
Sally met him with a glass of iced tea and they sat on the porch.
Jim gulped his drink down. Sally sipped hers and looked at the
porch -- their porch, their house. She felt like running in and
out of their front door; a little girl playing house. She was so
excited to have their own front door, their own home.
"Isn't it great to be home -- our own home?" Sally clinked her glass against Jim's.
She carried on, "I can't wait to really make it our home -- paint it the way we want to, put our furniture where we want to, find the cat wherever she's hiding, put up our cross on the front door and have the pastor come over to bless our new home."
Jim looked up at her. He gazed past her to the front door sill. "What are you going to do about the mazuza?"
"The whatza?" Sally asked.
"The thing on the door that our Jewish predecessors left behind."
"What is that?" Sally got up and touched the scroll-shaped piece of brass on the door sill. It was nailed on a 45-degree slant inclined into the house.
"It holds a bit of scripture: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord Our God, the Lord is One.' Jews touch that on the way into their house to remember to love God. I learned that in Israel."
"Why is it crooked like that?" Sally was touching the cool brass. Her finger was the same shape and size as the scroll.
"Rabbis still argue about that. Some think it's the natural angle of someone's hand as they pass into the house. Make's sense to me. See how your hand fits on it right now?" Jim stood up to touch it. "What will we do with our Christian cross for the door?" Sally asked.
"Let's leave the mazuza where it is, on the side of our front door and put the cross central to our entrance into our new home."
Sally smiled. "People who come to our home will wonder if we're Jewish or Christian."
"We'll tell them we're the best of both; We live within God's law, we love God as his children in Christ, and love our neighbor as ourselves through Christ."
"Jim, I think you just blessed our home for us."
"Isn't it great to be home -- our own home?" Sally clinked her glass against Jim's.
She carried on, "I can't wait to really make it our home -- paint it the way we want to, put our furniture where we want to, find the cat wherever she's hiding, put up our cross on the front door and have the pastor come over to bless our new home."
Jim looked up at her. He gazed past her to the front door sill. "What are you going to do about the mazuza?"
"The whatza?" Sally asked.
"The thing on the door that our Jewish predecessors left behind."
"What is that?" Sally got up and touched the scroll-shaped piece of brass on the door sill. It was nailed on a 45-degree slant inclined into the house.
"It holds a bit of scripture: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord Our God, the Lord is One.' Jews touch that on the way into their house to remember to love God. I learned that in Israel."
"Why is it crooked like that?" Sally was touching the cool brass. Her finger was the same shape and size as the scroll.
"Rabbis still argue about that. Some think it's the natural angle of someone's hand as they pass into the house. Make's sense to me. See how your hand fits on it right now?" Jim stood up to touch it. "What will we do with our Christian cross for the door?" Sally asked.
"Let's leave the mazuza where it is, on the side of our front door and put the cross central to our entrance into our new home."
Sally smiled. "People who come to our home will wonder if we're Jewish or Christian."
"We'll tell them we're the best of both; We live within God's law, we love God as his children in Christ, and love our neighbor as ourselves through Christ."
"Jim, I think you just blessed our home for us."
