Clanging Symbols

The little ones in Texas – my grandchildren – have started to a new pre-school. I had worried about separation anxiety for the younger of the two, the redhead. Last year everyday for her meant tears as she was left in her classroom.

But surprise, no such angst now.

In an almost apologetic moment, she said to her mother, “Mommy, you know I don’t cry anymore when I go to school.” Maybe that was meant to console her Mom as well as to give credence to a good thing.

Her brother, only 15 months older, has transitioned as well. He can now be on the playground at the same time as his mom’s class without anything more than a wave. Last year, he ran away to find mommy on a daily basis; once tunneling beneath the security fence to “walk home.” Such actions prompted the Frustrated Old Man of “syndrome” fame to research GPS chip implants. They do it for dogs, but is it inhumane for children?
Maturity is bringing a sense of wisdom and security in Texas.

The new school is also adding a new dimension to their world of counting, colors, and letters.

You may recall from earlier blogs that the Dallas folks are in a “searching” mode with respect to their practice of their religious faith. However, with the new school being based in an established Methodist church near their home, the little ones are beginning to experience a more “hands-on” approach to religious education.

On Friday of each week, the four-year old class has “chapel time” in the sanctuary of the church. Generally, the minister of the church will come, greet the kids, they will sing, and then hear a short Bible story. I am certain that the stories will be adjusted seasonally, much like the liturgy on Sunday.

The first “chapel time” happened this past week and since the minister was otherwise involved, a nice “grandma type” volunteer met with the kids instead. She used this time to point out the various architectural elements that are important to underscore the worship experience.

Now, the four-year old is already into bell towers. From his seat by the window in the SUV, he points out each one he sees. He does a remarkable imitation of their sound. His mother also uses this to teach the concept of high and low sounds as he mimics the bells.

Being inside the sanctuary of the church was a totally new experience for him.

So with the two classes of youngsters seated near the steps of the Chancel, the volunteer proceeded to explain to the children what they were seeing around them. She pointed out the banners, the pulpit, the altar, brass candlesticks, stained glass windows, and then the Cross.

“This is a symbol of our faith. It is called a cross.”

“I thought cymbals were round like a big metal plate,” said one energetic listener.
“Cymbals make loud crashing sounds,” said another. Realizing they were confusing the word symbol with cymbal, she hurriedly added, “No, this is the cross on which Jesus died.”

The silence was deadening. Pardon the play on words.

Now, the first thing you learn in dealing with young, impressionable minds is that you avoid anything traumatic. You don’t sing songs about Grandma moving to Peru like Phoebe Buffay on “Friends.”

The “Aunt Bea” lady hurriedly changed the subject and mentioned that there were two beautiful windows that could only be seen when the lights were turned on behind them. So she went to make that happen.

When she was out of sight, my grandson stood up and in a loud questioning voice asked of his teacher, “Mrs. Moss, why did Jesus die on that cross.”

Of course, that is a question beyond the grasp of his young age.

However, it got me to thinking. It has been a week of hearing hatred spewing from the mouths of people like the Quran burning Terry Wood, Newt Gingrich, the mosque protesters at “Ground Zero,” the Tea-Party enthusiasts who want to get us “Back to God,” and yes, Mama Grizzly herself. Weary of it all, I found myself asking: “folks, why did Jesus die on that cross?”

What did it all mean?

In the 1971 MASS that Leonard Bernstein composed for the opening of the Kennedy Center in our nation’s capitol, there is a song, “God Said,” whose lyrics seem appropriate for the ugly vitriol which has become the current image of many who claim Christianity. One verse goes:

God made us the boss God gave us the cross We turned it into a sword To spread the Word of the Lord We use His holy decrees To do whatever we please

As I think of the reason for Jesus and the Cross, I find it boils down to one simple word – love. Love, acceptance, forgiveness, compassion, charity – it is what our faith is supposed to be about. These are characteristics inherent in all the great religions of the world.

I am also reminded of the passage from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians:

“Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as a sounding brass or a clanging cymbal.”

To my grandson, I say, “there are a lot of people around who profess something they cannot seem to be able to live – we will call them ‘clanging symbols.’”

Sadly, some of the worst offenders have made it a career path.