Two Men In The Dark
Stories
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Contents
"Two Men in the Dark" by Keith Hewitt
"Lesson from the Shamrock" by Constance Berg
* * * * * * * *
Two Men in the Dark
by Keith Hewitt
John 3:1-17
"In there. Go. Sit. Wait."
The speaker pointed to a gloomy alcove off the main courtyard, the front half of which was lit by the flickering light of a brazier, and the back half of which lay in shadow. A stone bench ran across the back wall, occupied by two figures -- a man, sitting, wrapped in a cloak; and another man who lay on half the bench and snored with angelic innocence.
Nicodemus eyed the space dubiously, pondering the efficacy of resistance, and glanced at the man who had spoken. He must have been more than five feet tall, helmeted, and wore the Roman short sword on his belt the way Nicodemus and his countrymen wore the twisted fringe of the tzittzit on their prayer shawls -- as much a part of who he was as his hands and feet, and a reminder of obligation to a higher power. His commands were staccato, uttered with the complete confidence of a man who knows that his words will be obeyed without question.
It shan't be long, he thought. This should all be cleared up quickly.
Nicodemus shrugged, and stepped into the alcove, paused and sniffed the air -- yes, the sleeping man was almost certainly drunk, but there was something else... fear, maybe? The other man on the bench moved over, made room, without looking directly at him. Nicodemus studied his face as best he could in the shadows, tried to place it... and could not. "Do I know you?" he asked, as he sat down, hugging tight against the wall so his hips would not touch that of the stranger.
There was no telling what his condition might be -- sick, unclean... the possibilities were endless and disconcerting.
"No," the man rumbled, without looking directly at him. "I don't know you, friend."
"Odd." Nicodemus shrugged, shook his head. "So tell me, why are you here, tonight?"
"I was stupid enough to get stopped by a Roman patrol, after curfew." His voice was gruff.
Nicodemus gathered his tunic and robe about himself and leaned against the wall. "And me, you asked?" he said, after a long silence. "The same. I went out of town on an errand this evening and did not get back before curfew. When they picked me up, I told them who I was -- but with no way to prove it, I was detained."
Another long silence, then almost in spite of himself the other man asked, "And what was this errand that caused you to be detained by the Romans? Something worthwhile, I hope."
"I went out to seek enlightenment," Nicodemus said simply.
The stranger's head turned, looked at Nicodemus; half his face lay in shadow, the other in dim, flickering light. "Enlightenment in the dark? From whom?"
Nicodemus looked around the alcove, as though there might be someone else crouched in the shadows, then leaned forward, closer. "Do you know of this teacher, Jesus of Nazareth?"
The figure nodded slightly, a rustle of cloth in the gloom.
"Then you know who I went to see. I sought enlightenment from this man."
"False prophets are six to the shekel -- why waste your time with this one, friend?"
Nicodemus hesitated, then dove in. "Because I don't think he's a false prophet. His words have the ring of truth to them, but I cannot understand everything. I thought if I went to see him, had the chance to talk to him one on one, I might learn more."
"And did you?" The stranger's tone left no doubt as to the expected answer.
Nicodemus opened his mouth to answer -- hesitated, closed it -- then finally licked his lips and said, "I'm not sure. I wanted to understand just how it was that I could approach God more closely... how I could achieve this closeness to God that Jesus talks about... because, in truth, my heart yearns for that. I could not put words to it, before, but I know, now, that the law is not enough, because no man can follow it."
"And what pearl of wisdom did Jesus spout for you? A parable? A riddle?"
Nicodemus frowned in the darkness. "He told me that I must be born again."
The stranger chuckled without mirth. "Typical. I've heard similar things before."
"So you know Jesus?"
"I know what he is. He's a confused, mad prophet. Half the time he speaks eloquent truth, the other half he says things like you must be born again -- nonsense. Frustrating."
"I'm not so sure. I was thinking about what he said as I was walking back to the city, and I think I understand, now. You see, as I walked the route I was familiar with, I realized that I was in total darkness. I could follow it because it was routine, and I did not have to think about it. That's how I've been going through life for -- well, many years, now. All that I do in supposed worship, I do because it's what I've learned to do, because it's what I know I'm supposed to do... not because I feel it. Not because I understand it. Not because I want to do it."
"And this has what to do with becoming a child again?"
"When you're a child, you look at everything with fresh, excited eyes. You question everything, and you learn much because you're always asking questions... always trying to push the boundaries of what you know, and what you can do. And though you start out crawling, you soon learn to walk, and even run. Though you start out babbling, making sounds without meaning, you soon learn to talk -- to give weight, and meaning to your words." He paused. "As a child, you approach life fresh, wanting to learn everything. And you are untainted by the world around you."
There was a long pause. Finally, the stranger grunted. "And that's what it means to you?"
"I think it's obvious. To understand what Jesus is preaching, we must unlearn everything we thought we knew -- and be ready to learn again. To learn the truth, and then to grow in truth and knowledge." Nicodemus looked out toward the courtyard; there seemed to be some minor commotion out there. "I think Jesus is trying to say we must regain our innocence -- and then be prepared to grow up in the way that God wants us to grow."
Another long pause. "I suppose that's the sort of street corner philosophy you get, when you seek out would-be prophets in the dark."
"I wouldn't expect you to understand -- you weren't there. But trust me, friend, it makes sense if your heart is open. I went seeking knowledge in the dark -- a darkness in my life, as well as the world. I found light -- even if I have to strain to see it."
The stranger shook his head. "A dozen times -- a hundred times -- I've heard this kind of nonsense. It never changes."
Footsteps were approaching, now. Nicodemus stood up, gathered his cloak about him and turned toward the shadowed figure on the bench. "I think that's what the rabbi is saying, friend -- the change has to come from within. Until you're ready to experience it, like a child taking its first steps in the light, you're just going to be like our friend, here, sleeping his way through life... in the dark."
There was no answer, but he seemed to shrink deeper into the shadows as the Roman soldier and another man -- a younger man in fine clothing -- approached. The Roman held a lantern, this time, and as they eclipsed the light from the brazier he held the lantern high, bathing the alcove in dim light. With his other hand, he pointed toward Nicodemus. "That's the one."
"Of course it is," the other man answered at once, also in Latin. "His name is Nicodemus, and he is a member of the Sanhedrin -- as he told you." He took a step toward Nicodemus, held out his hand and clasped Nicodemus' in greeting. "Nicodemus, brother, how did you get yourself caught by these?" he asked, shifting to Aramaic.
"I was delayed in getting home," Nicodemus answered cautiously. "You know how old men are -- never paying attention to time."
"Well, everything is fine now -- we'll get you home." He turned back to the guard, said in Latin, "We will return home, now, Centurion, if there are no other problems."
The Roman shook his head, stood aside. As the lamp shifted, and the newcomer turned, the other man in the alcove caught his eye. He finished turning -- then stopped, and turned back, his eyebrows drawing together. "Judas? What are you doing here?"
The other man shrugged. "Caught leaving the city. No pass. I told you I needed a pass."
The newcomer shook his head and caught the soldier's eye again. "Centurion, this other man was visiting the temple on business earlier this evening. I neglected to give him the proper documentation to allow him to leave. Can you please see that he is released, as well?"
The revelation did not seem to please the soldier, but he shrugged. "As you say." He caught Judas' eye and said, "You're free to go. Try to stay out of trouble."
Judas got to his feet uncertainly and followed the other two out of the alcove. They crossed the courtyard in silence, and as they left it, their paths diverged...
And one continued in darkness.
Keith Hewitt is the author of two volumes of NaTiVity Dramas: Nontraditional Christmas Plays for All Ages (CSS). Keith's newest book NaTiVity Dramas: The Third Season will be published September 2012. He is a local pastor, co-youth leader, former Sunday school teacher, and occasional speaker at Christian events. He lives in southeastern Wisconsin with his wife, two children, and assorted dogs and cats.
Lesson from the Shamrock
by Constance Berg
Romans 8:12-17
Shar was worried. She was in charge of the children's sermon this Sunday, and it was Holy Trinity Sunday! She had read for weeks about the meaning of Trinity Sunday and had learned much from it. But which image would speak to the little ones who would come forward?
She considered the classic example of the apple cut in half. Shar had seen it in a children's sermon book. She could show that although the apple had three parts, skin, fruit, and seed, it was still called an apple.
Or was the illustration of the newborn more apt to catch their attention? The baby is brother, son, and grandson all in one, yet still named John. Shar wondered about what she would say. Maybe the apple illustration would be better. It was Saturday evening and she was growing more nervous.
Her mind wandered to the past week. Shar was a third grade teacher at the elementary school downtown. She loved to see the eager young learners as they studied different things. This month was Irish month and the children heard Irish music, watched Irish dancing, saw the beautiful countryside, learned about the terrible wars, and ate Irish food. They had great fun. The students even tried to speak English with an Irish brogue.
Though it wasn't March, Shar included a study on Saint Patrick, the man who was sold at age sixteen to be a laborer only later to become the patron saint of Ireland. When Patrick escaped from his slavery, he became a monk. One of the objects he used as he taught the concept of the Holy Trinity was the shamrock.
That's it! Shar would use a shamrock, with its three leaves, to illustrate the Trinity. She could explain how the shamrock had three even sides, yet each part was important. Each side represented a part of the Trinity: the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Each side was a mystery to understand, but each side represented a powerful part of the Christian faith. As the shamrock's leaves protect the ground underneath, so God protects us with the three parts of the Trinity.
Relief flooded her as Shar prepared her talk. She gathered up several shamrocks from the garlands left over from class. She would have enough for each child to take one home. It would be a fun little reminder of the children's sermon. Shar was getting excited. And in her excitement, the little poem her mother used to say every morning when Shar went off to school repeated in her head:
The sacred Three
Be over me;
The blessing of
The Trinity.
(from Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit, Series II, Cycle B, 0-7880-1370-X [CSS Publishing Company, Inc.: Lima, Ohio, 1999], pp. 84-85)
*****************************************
StoryShare, June 3, 2012, issue.
Copyright 2012 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
"Two Men in the Dark" by Keith Hewitt
"Lesson from the Shamrock" by Constance Berg
* * * * * * * *
Two Men in the Dark
by Keith Hewitt
John 3:1-17
"In there. Go. Sit. Wait."
The speaker pointed to a gloomy alcove off the main courtyard, the front half of which was lit by the flickering light of a brazier, and the back half of which lay in shadow. A stone bench ran across the back wall, occupied by two figures -- a man, sitting, wrapped in a cloak; and another man who lay on half the bench and snored with angelic innocence.
Nicodemus eyed the space dubiously, pondering the efficacy of resistance, and glanced at the man who had spoken. He must have been more than five feet tall, helmeted, and wore the Roman short sword on his belt the way Nicodemus and his countrymen wore the twisted fringe of the tzittzit on their prayer shawls -- as much a part of who he was as his hands and feet, and a reminder of obligation to a higher power. His commands were staccato, uttered with the complete confidence of a man who knows that his words will be obeyed without question.
It shan't be long, he thought. This should all be cleared up quickly.
Nicodemus shrugged, and stepped into the alcove, paused and sniffed the air -- yes, the sleeping man was almost certainly drunk, but there was something else... fear, maybe? The other man on the bench moved over, made room, without looking directly at him. Nicodemus studied his face as best he could in the shadows, tried to place it... and could not. "Do I know you?" he asked, as he sat down, hugging tight against the wall so his hips would not touch that of the stranger.
There was no telling what his condition might be -- sick, unclean... the possibilities were endless and disconcerting.
"No," the man rumbled, without looking directly at him. "I don't know you, friend."
"Odd." Nicodemus shrugged, shook his head. "So tell me, why are you here, tonight?"
"I was stupid enough to get stopped by a Roman patrol, after curfew." His voice was gruff.
Nicodemus gathered his tunic and robe about himself and leaned against the wall. "And me, you asked?" he said, after a long silence. "The same. I went out of town on an errand this evening and did not get back before curfew. When they picked me up, I told them who I was -- but with no way to prove it, I was detained."
Another long silence, then almost in spite of himself the other man asked, "And what was this errand that caused you to be detained by the Romans? Something worthwhile, I hope."
"I went out to seek enlightenment," Nicodemus said simply.
The stranger's head turned, looked at Nicodemus; half his face lay in shadow, the other in dim, flickering light. "Enlightenment in the dark? From whom?"
Nicodemus looked around the alcove, as though there might be someone else crouched in the shadows, then leaned forward, closer. "Do you know of this teacher, Jesus of Nazareth?"
The figure nodded slightly, a rustle of cloth in the gloom.
"Then you know who I went to see. I sought enlightenment from this man."
"False prophets are six to the shekel -- why waste your time with this one, friend?"
Nicodemus hesitated, then dove in. "Because I don't think he's a false prophet. His words have the ring of truth to them, but I cannot understand everything. I thought if I went to see him, had the chance to talk to him one on one, I might learn more."
"And did you?" The stranger's tone left no doubt as to the expected answer.
Nicodemus opened his mouth to answer -- hesitated, closed it -- then finally licked his lips and said, "I'm not sure. I wanted to understand just how it was that I could approach God more closely... how I could achieve this closeness to God that Jesus talks about... because, in truth, my heart yearns for that. I could not put words to it, before, but I know, now, that the law is not enough, because no man can follow it."
"And what pearl of wisdom did Jesus spout for you? A parable? A riddle?"
Nicodemus frowned in the darkness. "He told me that I must be born again."
The stranger chuckled without mirth. "Typical. I've heard similar things before."
"So you know Jesus?"
"I know what he is. He's a confused, mad prophet. Half the time he speaks eloquent truth, the other half he says things like you must be born again -- nonsense. Frustrating."
"I'm not so sure. I was thinking about what he said as I was walking back to the city, and I think I understand, now. You see, as I walked the route I was familiar with, I realized that I was in total darkness. I could follow it because it was routine, and I did not have to think about it. That's how I've been going through life for -- well, many years, now. All that I do in supposed worship, I do because it's what I've learned to do, because it's what I know I'm supposed to do... not because I feel it. Not because I understand it. Not because I want to do it."
"And this has what to do with becoming a child again?"
"When you're a child, you look at everything with fresh, excited eyes. You question everything, and you learn much because you're always asking questions... always trying to push the boundaries of what you know, and what you can do. And though you start out crawling, you soon learn to walk, and even run. Though you start out babbling, making sounds without meaning, you soon learn to talk -- to give weight, and meaning to your words." He paused. "As a child, you approach life fresh, wanting to learn everything. And you are untainted by the world around you."
There was a long pause. Finally, the stranger grunted. "And that's what it means to you?"
"I think it's obvious. To understand what Jesus is preaching, we must unlearn everything we thought we knew -- and be ready to learn again. To learn the truth, and then to grow in truth and knowledge." Nicodemus looked out toward the courtyard; there seemed to be some minor commotion out there. "I think Jesus is trying to say we must regain our innocence -- and then be prepared to grow up in the way that God wants us to grow."
Another long pause. "I suppose that's the sort of street corner philosophy you get, when you seek out would-be prophets in the dark."
"I wouldn't expect you to understand -- you weren't there. But trust me, friend, it makes sense if your heart is open. I went seeking knowledge in the dark -- a darkness in my life, as well as the world. I found light -- even if I have to strain to see it."
The stranger shook his head. "A dozen times -- a hundred times -- I've heard this kind of nonsense. It never changes."
Footsteps were approaching, now. Nicodemus stood up, gathered his cloak about him and turned toward the shadowed figure on the bench. "I think that's what the rabbi is saying, friend -- the change has to come from within. Until you're ready to experience it, like a child taking its first steps in the light, you're just going to be like our friend, here, sleeping his way through life... in the dark."
There was no answer, but he seemed to shrink deeper into the shadows as the Roman soldier and another man -- a younger man in fine clothing -- approached. The Roman held a lantern, this time, and as they eclipsed the light from the brazier he held the lantern high, bathing the alcove in dim light. With his other hand, he pointed toward Nicodemus. "That's the one."
"Of course it is," the other man answered at once, also in Latin. "His name is Nicodemus, and he is a member of the Sanhedrin -- as he told you." He took a step toward Nicodemus, held out his hand and clasped Nicodemus' in greeting. "Nicodemus, brother, how did you get yourself caught by these?" he asked, shifting to Aramaic.
"I was delayed in getting home," Nicodemus answered cautiously. "You know how old men are -- never paying attention to time."
"Well, everything is fine now -- we'll get you home." He turned back to the guard, said in Latin, "We will return home, now, Centurion, if there are no other problems."
The Roman shook his head, stood aside. As the lamp shifted, and the newcomer turned, the other man in the alcove caught his eye. He finished turning -- then stopped, and turned back, his eyebrows drawing together. "Judas? What are you doing here?"
The other man shrugged. "Caught leaving the city. No pass. I told you I needed a pass."
The newcomer shook his head and caught the soldier's eye again. "Centurion, this other man was visiting the temple on business earlier this evening. I neglected to give him the proper documentation to allow him to leave. Can you please see that he is released, as well?"
The revelation did not seem to please the soldier, but he shrugged. "As you say." He caught Judas' eye and said, "You're free to go. Try to stay out of trouble."
Judas got to his feet uncertainly and followed the other two out of the alcove. They crossed the courtyard in silence, and as they left it, their paths diverged...
And one continued in darkness.
Keith Hewitt is the author of two volumes of NaTiVity Dramas: Nontraditional Christmas Plays for All Ages (CSS). Keith's newest book NaTiVity Dramas: The Third Season will be published September 2012. He is a local pastor, co-youth leader, former Sunday school teacher, and occasional speaker at Christian events. He lives in southeastern Wisconsin with his wife, two children, and assorted dogs and cats.
Lesson from the Shamrock
by Constance Berg
Romans 8:12-17
Shar was worried. She was in charge of the children's sermon this Sunday, and it was Holy Trinity Sunday! She had read for weeks about the meaning of Trinity Sunday and had learned much from it. But which image would speak to the little ones who would come forward?
She considered the classic example of the apple cut in half. Shar had seen it in a children's sermon book. She could show that although the apple had three parts, skin, fruit, and seed, it was still called an apple.
Or was the illustration of the newborn more apt to catch their attention? The baby is brother, son, and grandson all in one, yet still named John. Shar wondered about what she would say. Maybe the apple illustration would be better. It was Saturday evening and she was growing more nervous.
Her mind wandered to the past week. Shar was a third grade teacher at the elementary school downtown. She loved to see the eager young learners as they studied different things. This month was Irish month and the children heard Irish music, watched Irish dancing, saw the beautiful countryside, learned about the terrible wars, and ate Irish food. They had great fun. The students even tried to speak English with an Irish brogue.
Though it wasn't March, Shar included a study on Saint Patrick, the man who was sold at age sixteen to be a laborer only later to become the patron saint of Ireland. When Patrick escaped from his slavery, he became a monk. One of the objects he used as he taught the concept of the Holy Trinity was the shamrock.
That's it! Shar would use a shamrock, with its three leaves, to illustrate the Trinity. She could explain how the shamrock had three even sides, yet each part was important. Each side represented a part of the Trinity: the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Each side was a mystery to understand, but each side represented a powerful part of the Christian faith. As the shamrock's leaves protect the ground underneath, so God protects us with the three parts of the Trinity.
Relief flooded her as Shar prepared her talk. She gathered up several shamrocks from the garlands left over from class. She would have enough for each child to take one home. It would be a fun little reminder of the children's sermon. Shar was getting excited. And in her excitement, the little poem her mother used to say every morning when Shar went off to school repeated in her head:
The sacred Three
Be over me;
The blessing of
The Trinity.
(from Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit, Series II, Cycle B, 0-7880-1370-X [CSS Publishing Company, Inc.: Lima, Ohio, 1999], pp. 84-85)
*****************************************
StoryShare, June 3, 2012, issue.
Copyright 2012 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
