Woe to you…hypocrites! for you tithe mint and dill and cummin, and have neglected…justice and mercy and faith; these you ought to have done, without neglecting the others. Matthew 23:23
A picture is worth many words. Watch the scribe and Pharisee painstakingly count out tiny cummin seeds. Forty-six, forty-seven…hold the count and go wash hands. Sweaty fingertips make for sticky labor. For a moment the pungent aroma has the mind wander into the kitchen. Mrs. Scribe is flavoring the soup with cummin, while Mrs. Pharisee adds it to her bread. Both women keep a small stash in their medicine cabinet. Forty-eight, forty-nine…one hundred: Bingo! Ten cummin seeds go to the temple. We can replicate the thrill by counting out ten greenbacks and setting one aside for church.
If that is not enough imaginary fun, how about the tale of the worn-out paper money traveling in a canvas bag back to the mint to be destroyed? The fifty-dollar bill tried to cheer up the lot. “You know,” it said, “my good memories leave no room for regrets. I attended lots of great concerts and sports events.” The twenty-dollar bill chimed in, “Same here, friend. I went to numerous movies, bowling alleys and pizza parlors.” The one-dollar bill sighed deeply and then reluctantly confessed, “All I ever did was go to church.” Would that call for a Good Grief rather than a Bingo shout-out moment? (Part 1 of 2)
Comment: Please bear with me while I count in reverse: 41, 40, 39, 38, then restart with 32, work my way up to 37, and simply sail through the last four chapters of the scariest John Grisham thriller I have ever read. I’m almost embarrassed to say how it happened. After nerve pain medications were prescribed to help me deal with the severe pain of ankle ulcers, I noticed not only that they gave me scarce relief, but also damaged my eyesight. I could no longer read books. Thankfully, magnifying glasses helped when I was stumped maintaining my morning devotions. In May of this year a friend returned the Grisham book she had borrowed and misplaced. So “Sycamore Row” came to briefly sit on my kitchen table. Sheer habit compelled me to open it and scan the first three pages. Once again, I was immediately hooked, but discovered to my amazement that my eyesight was back to normal. So I went back to Grisham binging, until I finished “The Chamber.” The subject of grisly executions got to me, but also the rough language top heavy with “ass” in one form or another. So I skipped over “The Associate” and buried my nose in “The Firm.” Gone was the Ku Klux Clan of the evil racist past, and I didn’t mind running into filthy rich tax lawyers in Memphis. However, before long their love of money testified to the biblical “root of evil” which Grisham, the brilliant storyteller, fleshed out in horrifying scenarios that scared the heck out of me. So, for the first time ever, I decided to read the end first. The satisfying outcome relieved my anxiety to such an extent, that I actually enjoyed the hairy chapters leading to the climax. But, guess what? This was my ultimate take-away: Let me go back to the Book of Revelation and firmly take hold of the triumphant final “unveiling” of Jesus Christ, thus overcoming the fear of our dangerous, scary world. Try it, it works! Amen
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