A Jolly Good Time at the Cemetery

Preparing for the ministry, my brother Doug and I attended Faith Theological Seminary near Philadelphia. As you can imagine, a seminary can be a rather solemn place, as learning to rightly interpret and proclaim God’s truth is serious business. (One of our visiting chapel speakers enjoyed poking fun at the somber atmosphere. More than once he began his message, “It’s an honor to be back at Faith Cemeter----I mean Seminary.”)  Thankfully, there were a few classmates who found ways to enliven things.

All our classes were taught by men, with one exception.  A required English course was conducted by an elderly, dignified, no-nonsense widow who had taught for decades in Philadelphia public schools. Dr. Dickie was on a mission to teach proper English to men before they ascended the pulpit.  My guess is, she had been scandalized one-too-many times by the grammar mistakes of young preachers, so she volunteered to come out of retirement to assist the cause. 

Her practice was to bring to class her well-mannered little West Highland Terrier Jolly and tie his leash to one of the front legs of her desk. I suspect she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Jolly home alone for several hours, so she had agreed to teach only if he could accompany her. Jolly would snooze calmly by the desk, listening to the grammar lesson with what appeared to be the same level of interest as the rest of us.  

Then came the day when my friends Phil and Al brought squirt guns to class, having determined to boldly go where no man had gone before (and where, it could be argued, no wise man has yet gone). They waited patiently through much of the day's lecture until Dr. Dickie rose from her chair and turned to use the blackboard. This was their chance. Seated near each other in the front of the room, they drew their weapons and sent streams of water in Jolly's direction, the squeaking of the squirt guns timed to be drowned out by the sound of scraping chalk. Their intention was evidently to get Jolly barking and cause a disruption, providing us with a brief respite from gerunds and independent clauses. 

At first Jolly reacted with only mild curiosity. It seemed he too was thankful for a break from the routine. Without any audible protest, he hopped to his tiny legs and looked around to pinpoint the source of the distraction. From his subdued response an onlooker might have thought (had any onlooker been thinking) that it came as no great surprise to Jolly to be sprinkled in a Presbyterian Seminary.  As the occasional carefully timed effusions continued, he appeared to embrace the fun, yipping, wagging his tail and trying to catch the water in his mouth. His restlessness drew some mild rebukes from Dr. Dickie as she continued busy at the blackboard. 

"Shush, Jolly, lay down."

"I would have said 'lie down' Mr. Sukhia, I was not asking Jolly to place or lay an object on the floor, I was instructing him to prostrate himself." 

Yes, of course, Dr. Dickie, I remember now; you told him to lie down.  As I recall it was an Imperative Sentence.

"Don't patronize me, Mr. Sukhia."  

Yes Ma'am.  I'll just get back to my story now.  

"Please do."  

Having been commanded to lie down, Jolly obediently settled himself again. Phil and Al bided their time to extend the fun, and a few minutes later, Jolly received another squirt.  By this time the interest of the entire class was focused on this drama. 

“Meanwhile the interest of your Stale Bread readers is long gone.” 

Why Tommy (AKA Pretty Boy) Humphrey, my friendly antagonist, I wasn’t expecting you!  I would have thought the setting of an English class would have kept you out of this story. 

“I heard talk of dogs and guns. I thought this might be about hunting----you know, the kind of thing real men do, Rusty. I’m disappointed again."

Of course, you are.

“By the way, I’m surprised you weren’t involved in this little caper, Rusty. Wasn’t disrupting classes your specialty in high school, like when you claim you landed a plane on the football field, then climbed your school’s bell tower and rang the bell?  I think you say you were being chased by a bear at the time.” 

You’re jumbling my stories, Pretty Boy. You must have read the first Wry Bread book by the “Pick-a-Random-Page” method.  But to your point, while at seminary I was working nights, so it was enough of a challenge for me to just stay awake in class.

“That’s interesting; it’s the same challenge your congregation has every Sunday morning.”

Well, it’s been nice chatting with you Tommy, but I was in the middle of a story. 

“Wait. What was that about you working nights?  I’m trying to picture you working.”

If you must know, I was the third-shift desk clerk at a motel, and later, a security guard stationed at the front desk of a closed office complex.

“I see. So, you basically sat on your keister the whole time. Good training for your life’s ‘work.’ When you were a security guard, did you get to carry a squirt gun?”

Please excuse my friend Tommy. He suffers from the lingering effects of what he likes to call an old football injury.  (He did receive a severe blow to the head at a game----it was from an irate Ravens fan as Tommy rooted for the Steelers in Baltimore.) 

As I was saying, Jolly was restless, and Dr. Dickie was beginning to take notice. Although to that point each of the spectators had succeeded at stifling his laughter, it was just a matter of time before one of us would crack. Perhaps sensing this, Phil and Al waited for an appropriate moment, and then released a full barrage. Finally Jolly began barking vigorously. Dr. Dickie interrupted her lesson and walked over to where Jolly was tethered to investigate the fuss, and she found a small pool of liquid on the tiled floor. 

This was the decisive moment.  A cursory examination of the puddle would reveal it was simply water, and a cursory examination of those in the front of the class would reveal two weapons of class disruption. I imagined that soon we'd be visiting Phil and Al in a cell in the seminary basement, reminiscing about the best English class ever. My daydream was interrupted by Dr. Dickie addressing her dog.

"Jolly, look what you've done!"  

Wonder and relief swept the class. This was great!  Apparently Jolly was going to take one for the team. But then Dr. Dickie looked at Phil in the front row and said: 

"Mr. Futoran.”

Uh oh. Had she spotted tell-tale water on his desk?  We held our breath.

“Yes?” 

“Would you please take Jolly outside; it seems he's had an accident." 

Phil (greatly relieved, no doubt) stood and took Jolly's leash with a wry smile, saying something like, "Yes, I'd be happy to."   

Al graciously volunteered to bring some paper towels from the nearest restroom to clean up "Jolly's mess." 

For what remained of the class, Perp #1 was strolling around the lush seminary grounds, safe from all grammar talk, while Perp #2 was enjoying a gratuitous bathroom break. Meanwhile, Dr. Dickie's other students were trying to determine if what we had just witnessed should be labeled ironic or paradoxical.  I for one was pretty sure no onomatopoeia was involved (nor any mutt-a-pee-a, come to think of it).

Looking back on that class in an attempt to find a spiritual lesson, here's what I came up with: Sometimes crime does pay (temporarily at least).  

"That's a bit of a stretch, isn't it Rusty? What was the crime here?  Amusing some bored students while they were learning to become boring preachers?"  

Give me a break, Pretty Boy, I don't have much to go on here. 

"That's never stopped you before."

Psalm 73 records the reaction of one who saw some get away with offenses a bit more serious than interrupting a grammar lesson.

“My steps had nearly slipped, for I was envious of the boastful, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked, for there are no pains in their death, but their strength is firm. They are not in trouble like other men, nor are they plagued like other men; therefore, pride serves as their necklace; violence covers them like a garment. Their eyes bulge with abundance; they have more than heart could wish. They scoff and speak loftily. They set their mouth against the heavens.” 

The Psalmist was troubled when he saw wicked men prosper. Although they scoffed at God, boasting against the heavens, they were wealthy, and healthy.  They lived to old age and died without pain. It shook his faith to see this. He says his steps nearly slipped. It can happen to us when we see men get away with crimes and escape all justice here.  But the Psalmist continues:

“…until I went into the sanctuary of God; then I discerned their end. Truly you set them in slippery places; you make them fall to ruin. How they are destroyed in a moment, swept away utterly by terrors!” 

He was reminded that although man’s justice may fail, God’s justice does not. Even those who face no consequences for their crimes here must stand before the bar of God’s justice, and the judge of all the earth will do right.

“…we will all stand before the judgment seat of God, for it is written, ‘As I live, says the Lord, every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall confess to God. So then each of us will give an account of himself to God.’” [Romans 14:10-12]

Now when I think of that Jolly day at Faith Cemeter---I mean Seminary that's the lesson I’m reminded of.

“You are reminded of, Mr. Sukhia?”

I’m sorry, Dr. Dickie. What I meant to say is, that's the lesson of which I’m reminded.