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It’s Only a Story

Last Sunday afternoon I decided to take a break from my usual routine. Instead of studying about the sermon I intended to post on my blog this morning, I chose to read a novel that I had purchased a while ago. I’m sure glad I that I did. Little did I realize at the time that certain insightful excerpts from that inspiring book would provide me with all the material I needed for what you are about to read, not only today, but, Lord willing, next week as well. I fell asleep before finishing it, but right after breakfast the next morning I picked it up and did just that. As you read this sermon please try to remember that, “It’s Only a Story.” The author tells us that:

It was a quiet, sultry afternoon in Auburn. People were gathering at Sanders’ store for news and the latest gossip. The weather had been sticky and hot for the past few days, just like before a thunderstorm. It was the kind of day that puts people on edge when mosquitoes and biting flies invade the nearby woods and annoy everyone in town.

The Persini brothers had given up laying pipe for the day; the ground was too soupy from recent rains and the site was infested with mosquitoes. Why waste time working mud? They had already left the job and were walking towards Sanders’ store when they met Pat Zumbar, who had also taken the afternoon off.

Pat greeted them with his usual friendly attack: “What the hell are you guys doin’ away from the job? When are you gonna finish that pipeline so we can use our sinks? The women are furious you’re taking so long.”

“Cool off, Pat, it’s too hot to work today. You took off, didn’t you, and all you do is sit on a bulldozer. You should be in that mud hole, then you’d have something to bellyache about.” That was big Tony. He never took much of Pat’s gruff. And today was no time to horse around. It was too hot and everyone was on edge.

As the men walked along the sidewalk their heavy work boots pounded the wooden planks like rolling thunder. The men liked to hear that noise. It made them feel important. Pat reached Sanders’ store first. He opened the squeaky screen door and let the others enter, then followed them as the door slammed behind him. The noise startled Katherine Sanders, who was cleaning the counter. “You guys back again? I thought I just got rid of you,” she said as she continued working.

“It’s too hot to work today,” Ernie said matter-of-factly. “I should have gone fishing like I wanted to.

“Never mind your fishing,” Katherine shot back, “you better finish that water main so we can clean up around here.”

At that point George Sanders came out of the back room. He was a mild mannered man, recently retired from the county highway department, where he had worked for the past thirty years. He now spent most of his time around the store, even though his wife, Katherine had been running it efficiently for years without his help.

This wasn’t just a store, and these fellows weren’t just customers. They had been friends since childhood and knew each other better than brothers and sisters. There were few secrets among them. They knew everything there was to know about each other and they were still friends. The store was the natural meeting place when there was nothing else to do, and even though the small counter was hardly adequate, the men were content to just stand around and drink their coffee or eat their sandwiches. Good-natured banter and needling was ordinary fare, and at this they were experts. The current topic of conversation was the new fellow living in the old cottage at the edge of town. No one knew much about him except that his name was Joshua and he was a plain man. He kept pretty much to himself, which piqued everyone’s curiosity. Once or twice a week he would walk up the street to the grocery store and buy food and other things he needed. He wasn’t particularly shy, though he didn’t talk much. He just went about his business and smiled hello to whoever he met along the way.

Joshua was an object of intense curiosity because no one knew anything about him, and there was no way to learn anything about him. He didn’t seem to have a family. He didn’t have a job that anyone knew about, yet he didn’t seem to be well off enough to live without working. According to the mailman he wasn’t getting any dividend checks or social security checks or government mail. How did he live? That’s what had everyone baffled. Whenever he came into town to buy food, what he bought was a loaf of unsliced French or Italian bread, fresh fish when it was available, pieces of chicken, some fresh ground hamburger, a few cans of sardines, fresh fruits and vegetables. It rarely varied and never amounted to much. Usually after leaving the market he would walk across the street to the liquor store and buy a gallon of table wine. Then, with his arms loaded down with packages, he would walk back to his cottage.

But all this revealed little about the man except that he was orderly in his schedule, regular in his diet, and moderately well disciplined. Beyond that he was still a mystery.

It was George who brought up the subject of Joshua. “That new fellow from “the Little House on the Prairie” came in just before you guys got here. Katherine gets butterflies every time he stops in for a cup of coffee. I think she’s got a crush on him,” George said, with a big laugh.

Katherine was furious. “That’s not true,” she retorted sharply. “I just get nervous when he’s around. He’s not like other people, and I get tongue-tied when I try to talk to him.” And George is no different. He just stands there gawking at him like a fool.” George just laughed good-humoredly.

You know, he really is a likable guy once you get to know him. And he’s not stupid either.” George went on. “I asked him what he thought of the Israelis invading Lebanon, and he answered that everyone has a right to live in peace. That was a shrewd answer. He wasn’t taking one side, but he took both sides when you think of it. He knew I was feeling him out, and he was polite in answering but, he didn’t reveal a thing about what he really felt.”

…. The rains came hard and furious and finally broke, allowing the Persinis’ to finish their work. It was a big relief when the sun appeared and blue sky replaced the heavy, laden clouds. The feel of dampness still clung to ones bones because the long rains had left the ground wet, but it was warm and one could smell summer. The birds started singing and the flowers in everyone’s garden were bursting into bloom. The sweet smell of lilacs pervaded the whole town, causing delight to some and asthma attacks in others. Customers who came into Sanders’ store to transact their daily business were in high spirits, like school kids who are given a day off.

Even Charlie, the testy mailman, was in a cheerful mood and got the courage to knock on Joshua’s door one day under the pretext of asking what he should do with any large packages that he might have to deliver. Joshua was so friendly that he caught Charlie off guard. He even invited him inside to have lunch with him, which made Charlie forget why he had gone to Joshua’s in the first place. And even though it was against regulations, Charlie couldn’t resist. He accepted Joshua’s invitation and followed his host into the house, where he eyed everything in sight, cataloguing them and tucking them away in his memory so he could tell every detail to the folks at Sanders’ store.

What Charlie actually saw wasn’t much, but the very simplicity of the furnishings was a story in itself, and with Charlie’s vivid imagination that would provide enough to create a whole story. Charlie could hardly contain his glee over what he had accomplished.

…. Joshua pulled out a chair and offered Charlie a seat. He sat down and continued to eye everything in sight, much to the amusement of Joshua, who knew he was being given a thorough going-over.

“Would you like a bowl of soup?” Joshua asked. “I’m just having lunch, and I’d be happy if you would have some with me.”

Charlie was shocked by the casual familiarity of someone who was almost a total stranger. “No, well, yes, I think I will,” Charlie stammered as he rubbed his chin and cheek with the palm of his hand.

The aroma of fresh chicken soup filled the kitchen. Joshua took the loaf of bread lying on the counter, cut two thick slices with a sturdy butcher knife and placed them on the table with no dish. He dished out the soup in two heavy pottery bowls, than took the jug of wine and poured some into two water glasses. Not used to repressing his curiosity, Charlie asked bluntly, “How come you had everything ready? Were you expecting someone?”

Joshua chuckled. “I had a feeling someone might stop by so I thought I’d put on a little extra, just in case.”

“You’re beautiful,” Charlie said in bewilderment as he sipped his soup, “You don’t put on airs or act like a snob, and everyone’s curious. Would you mind if I brought some of my friends over to visit sometime? You’d like them; there real people. They’re related to practically everybody in town, and if they like you, you’re really in, if it means anything to you.”

I’d like that very much,” Joshua said with an appreciative smile. Joshua took a piece of bread as Charlie watched. He broke the bread in half and offered a piece to Charlie. The mailman was amazed. How unusual! Here was a total stranger offering a piece of his own bread as if he had been a friend for years. Half embarrassed at the intimacy of the gesture, Charley took the bread and blurted out, “Thanks, Josh,” as if Joshua had given him a hundred-dollar bill.

“Like being a mailman, Charlie?” Joshua asked.

“Most of the time. The pay is good, but the bosses are miserable. They’re always on your back for something or other.”

“But you make a lot of people happy, and that’s a wonderful thing. That’s more than you can say for most jobs.”

“By the way, Josh, everyone in town is wondering what you do for a living. Do you work?”

“Of course I work. How do you think I feed myself?”

“What do you do?” Charlie asked.

“I make things for people and repair wooden objects like broken chairs and other household items. Sometimes I make toys for little children, nothing grand, just little things. Children like simple things, you know.”

“Do you charge much?” Charlie asked bluntly.

Joshua smiled at his simplicity. “Not much, just enough to buy a little food and pay the bills.”

“Maybe I’ll have you make something for me sometime. Where’s your shop?”

“In the back. It’s just a small place. I do everything by hand so I don’t need much space.”

Joshua got up and asked Charlie if he would like to see his shop. Of course he would. He was dying to see it. What a scoop to tell his friends about!

…. Charlie was far from being a connoisseur of fine art, but he was genuinely impressed and had more than enough information to take back to the gang. He was getting impatient to leave, not only because he had accomplished his purpose, but also because he was afraid someone might complain about getting their mail late.

Joshua could sense his uneasiness and started walking out, with Charlie behind him.

“That lunch really hit the spot,” Charlie said as he shook Joshua’s hand, thanked him for his hospitality, and started across the lawn to his jeep. As he was getting into the jeep Joshua yelled out to him “By the way, Charlie, if I should ever get any big packages, you can just put them here on the porch. They’ll be safe enough here.”

Charlie scratched his head in bewilderment. He hadn’t remembered asking Joshua, and that was why he stopped in the first place. He waived, got into his jeep, and drove off. Joshua watched him and smiled, then he went back into the house.

Charlie couldn’t wait until he got to Sanders’ store. When he went in with the mail it was lunchtime, just as he had planned it. The whole crew was there: Moe and George and Katherine, as well as the Persini brothers, and Pat Zumbar, the roly-poly character made of solid muscle whose voice could be heard clear across town. Herm Ainutti was there as well as a few others, a formidable lot, but jovial, good hearted, and totally loyal to each other.

When Charlie appeared in the doorway his figure filled the whole space. He was a huge man. His face was flushed, as it usually was, a few strands of silvery hair hanging over his red forehead. He had unusually large feet, which pointed outward when he stood still. Charlie liked to play cat-and-mouse, and this time he knew everyone was waiting for what he had to tell them. They all knew he had been to Joshua’s house, since Pat had seen his jeep parked outside. It was clear from the look on his face that he couldn’t wait any longer to tell them about his visit, and no one would give him an opening, so finally he tried for one himself.

“Anything interesting happen today?”

“Nothing,”: George answered. Everyone’s tired from partying all weekend.”

“Hear about Pat winning the daily double?” Herm interjected.

“No,” Charlie said. “How much did it pay?”

“A hundred and forty-five dollars,” Herm answered.

“Whew, you really hit it good. When you gonna buy us lunch?” Charlie asked, looking at Pat.

“Next Tuesday, right here. So make sure you’re all here,” Pat said in mock generosity. Everyone knew next Tuesday was a holiday and the store would be closed.

Finally, Katherine slipped and gave Charlie the opening he needed. “What are you having for lunch, Charlie?”

“I already ate lunch,” Charlie blurted out, ”that new fellow, Joshua, invited me in to eat with him. I had a great time. You should see the inside of his house. Fascinating.” Moe asked about the shop. Herm asked what they had for lunch. Charlie told them everything, then some. You would think he and Joshua had been friends for years. And he told them they were all invited to stop in anytime. He reassured them that Joshua was a nice guy and would fit well in their little club.

This revelation made Charlie the hero for the next few days. He had broken the ice with Joshua, and now the door was open for the rest to visit him and get acquainted.

…. Auburn seemed immune to the current turmoil in society. It was peaceful there and people lived simply. They owned their own houses, and though not pretentious, they provided security. When bad times hit the economy Auburn was little affected. About the most stirring news was usually about changes taking place in the various churches.

There were six churches: the Methodist, which had a warm and friendly pastor named Reverend Joe Engman; the Presbyterian, whose minister was a very proper person; the Episcopal, whose pastor was a born actor; the Lutheran, whose pastor was rigid and pompous; the Baptist, which had a simple but likable man for a pastor; and the Catholic whose pastor was aloof and inflexible.

Major changes in the Catholic Church had affected and shaken the whole congregation loose from the crusty customs and traditions that had shackled them for generations, to say nothing of the prejudices that had marred everyone’s social relationships in one way or another. As usual, people were more willing to make the changes than the clergy. The clergy become insecure when changes are discussed. They may seem brave enough about changes in ceremony, which don’t really affect people’s public lives, but when things that affect life-style and peoples relationships with other religions, they often get nervous.

Since everyone was supposed to be ecumenically minded, the clergy did get together on occasion. They scheduled interfaith services once or twice a year. They even met for coffee and donuts once a month and talked about all kinds of irrelevant topics. But when members of their congregations attended another church, they were highly indignant and, indeed, personally offended that someone would think another church might have more to offer than theirs. In fact, the clergy became upset when they saw their people socializing too much with members of other congregations. So ecumenism was more window-dressing that a serious attempt to bring the people closer together.

As friendly as the people of Auburn were, they were, by family tradition, clearly marked packages and knew just where they belonged. Occasionally individuals had, over the years, developed strong friendships that went a lot deeper that denominational loyalties, as was the case with the gang that hung around Sanders’ store. They were all of varied nationalities and religions and formed a veritable ecumenical movement, except they weren’t overly interested in religion.

Because relationships were so tightly knit in the village, a stranger had little hope of ever becoming a part of it. And a stranger was anyone who had lived there for less than fifteen years. In Auburn relationships were established in childhood. You grew up together as friends.

Joshua living in a cottage on the outskirts of town was not just a geographical fact. It was a symbol of where he stood in relation to the community outside. He was the focus of everyone’s attention and his solitude intensified their curiosity. Charlie’s uncharacteristic intrusion into his privacy was an expression of the townspeople’s curiosity about this quiet man. Most newcomers in a town make desperate attempts to be accepted, but Joshua gave the impression he couldn’t care less. He was the talk of the village precisely because they couldn’t get to know him. But now that a beachhead had been established, and Joshua made everyone welcome, he could expect a steady stream of visitors in the days to come.

Before I end today’s sermon I want to remind you that, “It’s Only A Story!” I hope I have given each of you a lot to think about. Thanks for visiting my blog.

Lord willing, next week ….

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January 25, 2015 Posted by Categories: Stories 3 comments

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