My Teachers

I am too old to be in a second and third grade bible class, but the children who are in there have been nice enough to invite me to study with them for a four month trimester. They are quite knowledgeable, so I study for hours for each class to keep up.

They do not discuss “Billy hit Bobby and Susie cried,” in this class.  They insist on bible knowledge and it’s the Old Testament, at that.  There are some rocky parts to the Old Testament, accounts of murder, sin, prison, plagues, etc. but they lead me through so I’m not afraid. We did Cain killing Abel and they tell me that it is clear that jealously can lead to murder.  So, when we see jealousy later, in Joseph’s coat of many colors, or the parents of Jacob and Esau playing favorites, they remind me of the lesson that jealousy is dangerous.

We memorize the books of the Old Testament; they sing them and I say them, having never learned the tune.  They take it to heart.  One of them left out Esther.  So, I asked them to tell something about Esther. They said she was a queen, but one of them went further.  He said, “Like Joseph and Moses, she had to leave her home and live with strangers to save her people.” And, indeed, she did.  I once heard a preacher say that the book should be called Mordecai, that he is the one who pushes the action forward. But I think I have learned from my class that it is right that it is called Esther.  Mordecai got to live among his people and Esther did not.  She had to leave and live a dangerous life. We forget the lesson of what a blessing it is to live among our people, but I doubt Esther would have.

I like to think I contribute to the class, and since I am the one who can sew, I do that.  I made them little packets of lentils when we studied Esau and wrote on them, “What would you give for the promises of God?” Esau gave his place in line for the greatest blessings ever for a bowl of pottage, after all. The kids were lovely about their lentils, but after class, one of them came to me and said, “My mother always makes lentil soup in case the kids in her class want to taste it.” I really had spent hours on that lesson, but I guess I should have thought to make soup—though I do not like lentils. I am always running to keep up, it seems.

I know fashion, it’s a hobby that goes with sewing, so I made costumes for them like both Egyptians and Israelites would have worn.  First we ask the men in a larger room to trade so we could sit crisscross applesauce on the floor in a roomy space.  Then, I asked two of the boys to come forward so I could dress one as an Egyptian and one as an Israelite.  The first chose to be Pharaoh and the second chose to be Rueben, because he was the oldest of Jacob’s sons.  They could see that the Egyptians and the Israelites did not have the same customs.  One kept cattle; one kept sheep.  One had a god for everything; the other had one God.  (There was a side conversation among the boys about whether or not the Egyptian’s loincloth covered everything necessary for modesty. They decided it did. They think I did not hear them.) The co-teacher took a picture for them.  She said, “Smile!” “Pharaoh” looked at her like, “Pharaoh does not smile!” He has a wonderfully arrogant pose in the photo. Later, when we talked about the new Pharaoh that made the Israelites slaves, the class pointed out that these were two very different looking and acting peoples, so it was natural that one would become afraid and try to enslave the other, even though they shouldn’t.

Now, we are talking about the plagues.  They are faster at reeling them off in order, so I have to fill in blanks to be worthy of meeting with them.  I showed them pictures of some of Egypt’s “gods.” The cow-headed one, the frog-headed one, and the fly-headed one look rather odd.  We talked about Moses making boils from dust, because the Egyptians, oddly, had a god for dust. We discussed the name of God as “I AM.”  I wrote it out for them:  The gods of Egypt were not gods but I AM.  Other gods are not gods, but I AM. And to throw in something interesting, I told them that first born sons slept in cots up off of the floor while the other sons slept on the floor, so the Death Angel had an easy task to know who was oldest, should he have needed the help. He probably did not, but I like to bring little things to light so they will let me stay and not send me off to the adult classes.

I wanted them to experience the instant shock of a plague.  Since plaguing them would be unkind, I had my husband draw a page of locusts for me. I colored them, copied them, and cut out nearly 200 paper locusts.  My husband I went over to the building early one afternoon and spread them around.  They were on their chairs and on their door, where they lay their books on the table, etc.  It was everything I hoped for and more.  One child left and came back with his mother so she could see the “plague.” One young man gallantly took them off of the chairs for the girls as they arrived. It was, in a word, chaos.   Chaos is a good way to learn, actually.  They pointed out the gross unfairness that I had put “Goshen” on my teaching stand and “Egypt” on their tables, so my space was clean. I planned to stay and clean up the mess—I’m old enough to know that if you make the mess, you must clean it up.  But they took the paper locusts with them. I warned them that if the cleaning help complained, it would be my head on the pike. The other teacher shrugged and said there are ladies who give out candy after services and my locusts were not sticky, so we would be fine. 

This week we have the Passover.  I’m not sure what they will teach me, but I plan to draw their attention to the Passover that Jesus ate with his apostles on that worst of nights long ago.  It explains why Communion is unleavened. During Passover, leaven had to be put out of the house. Jesus and the apostles would have followed the Passover laws.  So, we follow that tradition of purity in our own Communion.  The ancient is not as far away as we might think.

In a month, I will go back to those my own age.  Perhaps someone will let me hold their baby while I listen and learn from other adults.  The freshness of a child just adds so much to learning. But, if not, I will take the lessons I am learning and be the better for it.  I cannot tell you how grateful I am that at my age, the children let me sit with them for these few incredible months.