Drawings in the Sand

            “You’re a cheat, Joseph! You’re a cheat and I’ll make you pay!”

            Jeshua was frightened. He had seen many people mildly upset with his father over the carpentry work they had done together, but nothing like this. The man’s eyes seemed glazed over with a look of wild disdain. He looked more like an animal than any human Jeshua had ever seen. The altercation had transformed the man more and more with every exchange, and by now, Jeshua was starting to fear for his father’s safety. Unseen behind the entryway, Jeshua looked on in anticipation.

            “Have you nothing to say, Joseph? Have you no words to explain this unsatisfactory craftsmanship? I will blacken your name across town if not!”

            Jeshua turned from the livid man to his father. Joseph’s calm expression had not changed. Jeshua knew his father to be a good man, and a collected man in his dealings, but also knew of his father’s unbending inner-convictions. Jeshua knew the situation well. His father’s work was not only satisfactory, but exceptional. The fuming man was trying to shave down the price with his anger, a tactic Jeshua had seen before, but never so vehemently as this instance. The boy wondered which side of Joseph would respond, the peaceful or the self-assured. Jeshua saw no compromise.

            Waiting for the calm to give way to the impassioned, Jeshua held to his father’s face. But it simply looked on. Direct. Uncompromising. Still kind, but resolute. What was his father to say, with such a man wound as a raging bull waiting for his moment?

            Moments had passed with no words. The tension was palpable at this point. Jeshua considered interjecting, standing up for the work his father had done. He didn’t want to see his father taken advantage of. But he simply stood there, looking on! “I must act,” thought young Jeshua.

            Just as he was about to spring forward, Joseph moved for the first time. But it was not his mouth that moved first. He broke his gaze with the man, and slowly crouched to the ground. The angry man looked on in confusion, his fixed hostility breaking for the first time since the altercation began. He looked on as Joseph took his index finger and, to the surprise of his audience, began tracing into the dirt of the floor. Jeshua watched in shock. His father seemed to disregard the presence of the man entirely, shaping the ground to his liking.

After moments of baffling silence, Joseph looked up at the changed countenance of his customer. “What more must I do to fulfill my obligation to you?”

The man was startled by the kindness and sincerity of the question. He took his leave after apologizing for losing his temper, paying Joseph in full.

Jeshua emerged from behind the doorway, amazed at what had happened. “Father,” he begin to ask, “why did you kneel and draw in the face of such persecutions?”

            The father looked lovingly at his young son. “You will learn, son, that some fights aren’t worth winning, and others,” he said with a soft smile, “are own in moments of silence.”

John 8

2 And early in the morning he came again into the temple, and all the people came unto him; and he sat down, and taught them.

 3 And the scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taken in adultery; 

Matthew 17: 15, 18

Throw yourself.     I see them all, angular and twisted like a kaleidoscope. People walking, people buying, people eating, people chatting. But their wallets are bigger than their hearts, and their mouths never seem to end, whatever they do. Rotate the glass, and here I am, not a master, not a lover, not a merchant, not a friend. Just look away; keep pruning olive trees at midnight, without once paying attention to the boy in the

Throw yourself.      Clams are hard to open but worth it if you like pearls. Pull, cut, pull, cut, pull, cut. I don't want these sandals. All I want is a warm hearth with a dancing flame and a cherished name. All I want is nobody, because at least nobody can't ignore you. And the flame grows higher, and it laps at your skin until

Throw yourself into the fire.      Hold your nose because it will start to smell. I'm doing it. I'm jumping in. Like hot knives it pierces and smolders and chars and burns. Did someone light a cigarette because it's starting to get

[Someone places two hands upon his head.]

What are they doing. What are they saying. Please stop. I'll jump, I swear I will. You don't even have to look at me twice to know

[The man pats him on the shoulder. Then he turns and leaves.]

In seventeen years nobody has ever--what did you do? How did you stop it?

[The boy feels the scars and taps his burns.]

Nobody has ever--who was that man? It's over. Stay, please. Don't leave me. Please stay.

The Barren Fig Tree

Photo courtesy of LDS Media Library

An old gardener named Thomas tended a vineyard in Japha. He had wrinkly fingers and dirt-encrusted knuckles and kind, but firm, eyes. He has worked all his life for a great master who has a wide and sweeping vineyard. He had dedicated the past twenty years of his life to caring for the vineyard with his son, Peter.

While the son was young he would follow his father all the day and learn how to tend the fig trees. Thomas taught Peter how to prune and tend the trees so that the soil was lively and the tree could bring forth new buds. But most importantly, Thomas taught Peter, that the trees needed love.

Peter was assigned to care for one fig tree. But, he would often forget to dig about the tree, and he hated dunging it. The pruners were too big for him to cut the tree correctly. But Peter always sat with his tree. Many afternoons, after attempting to care for the tree, he would fall asleep under its leaves and dream of great things. He would tell his father about these dreams and endure his scolding for loving too much and caring too little.

Years passed and soon Peter became interested in “so-called” prophets. To Thomas’s frustration, he could not speak sense into Peter, and when Peter turned 21 he followed after an Essene named John the Baptist, and Thomas was left alone to make his rounds in angry loneliness.

The gardener did his best with the vineyard, but he was now old, and he had to cycle through which parts of the vineyard he could visit week by week. Most of the garden did quite well under this system, but Peter’s fig tree waned no matter what Thomas did. Whenever Thomas saw that fig tree it reminded him of the lost sunny days when Peter would follow him, and they would talk of life and trees. Soon Thomas avoided the tree completely.

Three years after Peter had left, Thomas was surprised by a visit from his master. The master stood by the barren fig tree. Thomas thought, “Of all the trees in this beautiful garden, my master has to notice this barren tree for which I can do nothing.” Nervously, Thomas approached his master and the tree and wondered if the tree would have become barren if Peter had stayed.

The master looked up at Thomas with a sad smile and said, “This morning I wanted to taste the fruits of my garden to calm my troubled heart and noticed this tree is still barren. On many mornings such as this, I have come walking and have noted that all these trees produce well except this one tree. It takes up needed space, in an otherwise plentiful vineyard. It is time to cut the tree down, Thomas.”

As the master turned to walk away, Thomas found himself saying, “Wait. Let me care for it one more year. I will dig it, dung it, and prune it, and we will see if it can bring joy to the vineyard once more.”

“You have one year.” And the master walked away.

Later that year, the news went abroad that a new religious leader has risen up and that John the Baptist had been beheaded. But Thomas remained in his vineyard, pruning, digging about, dunging, and loving the tree, hoping.