Story of the Month at The First Church

Stories of the Month

This year we have introduced a new feature to our religious education program: “Sunday Stories.” Your RE student will be bringing home a monthly story for the family to read out loud and discuss. By now you should have received 2 stories for Sept & Oct - The Better Offer, and A Lamp in Every Corner.

Stories are a great way to reach children and can be used as a springboard for family conversations about our search for truth and meaning and our values. Stories also help provide a fun focus for family time or bedtime.

Our hope is that being a UU will not be limited to Sunday mornings. Bringing a bit of the Sunday experience home helps children find pride and meaning in their faith. Learning these stories and sharing them with your children helps everyone know how they fit in the church community. We hope that you enjoy this new link from our classrooms to your family.

For more information on our Story of the Month program, please contact Deb DiGiulio at re@firstchurchinsalem.org. Copies of the Story of the Month for September and October are available in the Barnard Room. Pick one up during Fellowship!

* * * * * * *

January 2009

A Messiah Is Among You
Recrafted with permission of the author, Francis Dorff, O. Praem

Mr. Cohen was the teacher of the most quarrelsome third grade class you could ever imagine. The kids in that class argued about everything. They argued about who should stand in front of the lunch line. They argued about what games they should play during recess. They argued about who was the best reader in the class. And if Mr. Cohen asked them whether it was sunny or rainy outside, they even argued about that!
Mr. Cohen was at his wits' end. There was so much arguing going on that no one was learning anything. When they tried to do multiplication problems, Janie and Stan argued about whether "two times two" was the same as "two plus two," or not. When it was time for spelling, Carmen and Ling began to quibble about who should get the first turn in the spelling bee. In music class, Carlos and Beth each tried to grab the tambourine and Carlos ended up in the nurse's office when the
tambourine hit him on the head.

Mr. Cohen tried everything. He promised the class an ice cream party if they could get through just one day without an argument. No sooner had he made this offer than Charles and Bobby began to argue about whether they should get chocolate chip ice cream or cookie dough.

Mr. Cohen threatened the kids. He told them he'd send anyone who was arguing to the principal's office. That didn't work either. The principal, Mrs. Sanchez, pulled Mr. Cohen aside at lunch time and politely but firmly told him that 15 students in one morning was quite enough, thank you, and she hoped to be able to get some work done that afternoon.

Mr. Cohen called parents. He tried asking the kids to stop very politely. He kept the class in at recess. Nothing was working. There was only thing left that he could do. Mr. Cohen went to his synagogue on the Sabbath and prayed. His rabbi noticed his look of despair and went to sit by him. The rabbi listened to Mr. Cohen's tale of the most difficult, argumentative third grade class in history. When she had heard it all, she simply said, "Stay home from work on Monday
and leave it to me."

That Monday, the kids walked into their classroom and found the rabbi sitting at Mr. Cohen's desk. Of course, they immediately began to argue about whether Mr. Cohen was sick or whether Mrs. Sanchez had finally gotten so tired of the steady stream of arguing children that showed up at her office every day that she'd fired him.

The rabbi sat and listened. She didn't yell or try to interrupt them. She didn't plead or scold. She simply sat quietly at Mr. Cohen's desk. After awhile the kids began to wonder what was going on. The arguments gradually died down as the kids watched the rabbi to see what would happen next.

When the classroom was finally quiet, the rabbi slowly stood up. "Mr. Cohen will not be here today. I am your substitute teacher but I have only one thing to teach you. Listen carefully for I will not repeat it."

The kids were too surprised to argue. The rabbi's voice rang out in the stunned silence. "Last night in my dreams, God told me that the messiah is among you."

[Leader - Ask, "What do you suppose happened next?" Wait until someone identifies "arguments."]

They argued of course! Pandemonium broke out in the classroom as they argued about who might be the messiah.

It couldn't be Charles - because he was always getting into mischief. But on the other hand, Charles could always be counted on to help a friend or share his lunch. And Ling was clearly too bossy to be a messiah - but then again, Ling went to church every single Sunday and prayed every night before bed. What about Janie? She always did her work so carefully and neatly.

The arguing didn't stop over night. When Mr. Cohen returned to school on Tuesday morning the first thing he heard was Stan's angry voice. "I'm telling you Carmen, Bobby is the messiah. Just the other day I saw him comforting a little first grader who had scraped her knee. Isn't that the sort of thing a messiah would do?"

Soon, however, the arguments began to disappear. When Janie began to argue with Charles about who would be the line leader she suddenly offered to stand behind him in line. After all, Charles might be the messiah.

And in music class, Carlos and Beth took turns using the tambourine. After all, one of them might be the messiah.

All that year the kids kept trying to figure out who might be the messiah. They began to think about each other differently and to notice all of the good things about each other. Stan was a great artist with a huge imagination. Ling was passionate and strong. Carmen was the most loyal friend you could ask for. As for Mr. Cohen, he was a gentle, kind teacher - maybe he was the messiah.

The kids also began to think about themselves differently. Each child wondered: could I be the messiah? The children were inspired to try to be the best people they could be.

Soon the kids in Mr. Cohen's class had such a reputation for treating one another well, teachers came from far and wide to visit the class and ask Mr. Cohen for teaching tips. The year ended and the kids in Mr. Cohen's class graduated having learned a very important lesson which they would never forget - everyone around you is special and anyone could be a messiah.

The next fall, Mr. Cohen looked at his brand new class of beginning third graders. Already Jon and Anna were arguing about whether or not alligators were the same as crocodiles. "Good morning, boys and girls," he began. "Has anyone here ever heard of a messiah?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "It's a secret. You can't tell anyone - but I have been told that there is a messiah in this class."
________________________________________________

November 2008

The Empty Pot
Adapted from The Empty Pot by Demi (New York: Henry Holt, 1990); permission pending.

Long, long ago, the Emperor of an ancient land was old and dying. He loved children but had none of his own. So the Emperor decided to choose one of the children of his land to be the next Emperor.

The Emperor also loved plants, and of these, he had many. So nobody was surprised by the test he offered the children of the land.

The Emperor called all the children to his palace. He said, "I will give one seed to each of you. Come back in one year. When I see what you have grown from your seeds, I will choose the next Emperor."

The children ran from the palace smiling. All they had to do was grow a seed and they would be Emperor. But a year is a long time. Most of the children decided to wait a while to do their planting, and as the year went by, many children forgot their seeds.

But one child, a boy named Chen, took care of his seed right away. Just like the Emperor himself, Chen loved plants. Chen carefully carried the Emperor's seed home, sealing it securely in his hands so it wouldn't fall, but not so tightly that it might crush.

As soon as he got home, Chen found a clay pot made by his Grandfather. He thought that pot would be just right to grow his seed. He washed the pot and dried it carefully. Next Chen found rich, black soil that had many worms in it to make it nourishing. Chen filled the pot with the soil. Then he planted his seed, carefully covering it with the soil.

Chen set the pot in the sun. Each day, he lightly sprinkled water on the seed. But nothing grew from the seed. Nothing at all.

Some weeks went by. The other children boasted to each other of the wonderful large plants they had grown, but Chen's seed did not grow. He tried moving the pot to another window. He tried watering his plant more, and even singing to his plant. But no matter what Chen did, his seed did not grow.

Then, a year had passed. It was time to return to the Emperor. Chen was ashamed that his seed had not grown.

His wise Grandfather said, "You did your best, Chen. You were caring and patient. Be honest with the Emperor and explain that you did your best. It will be enough."
So Chen returned to the palace with his empty pot held carefully in his arms. The children lined up to present their plants. The first child had a large plant with thick leaves, a ginseng plant that could be used to make paper and medicine. The next child had a eucalyptus plant, a healthy, strong plant that soon would become a tree big enough to produce food for many animals. By the time Chen's turn came, he was so sad about his empty pot.

Feeling very embarrassed, Chen held his empty pot up for the Emperor to see. Chen explained how he had lovingly cared for his seed. Chen talked about his love for his Grandfather who had made the pot. He told the Emperor everything he had done to care for the seed, and how sad he felt that the seed would not grow.

The Emperor smiled and spoke. "There is only one among you who is honest enough to be the Emperor," he said. "The seeds that I gave you had been boiled so they would never grow. These wonderful plants some children have shown me did not come from the seeds I gave them."

Now some of the other children looked ashamed, because they had not been honest. And the Emperor knew it. "Only one child cared for the seed even when it did not grow," the Emperor said. "Only Chen gave the seed all it needed and asked for nothing. Only Chen was honest enough to show me an empty pot. Chen will be the new Emperor."

Chen moved to the Emperor's palace with his Grandfather. The old Emperor taught him many things, about gardening and much more. And when the Emperor died, he was smiling, because he knew that Chen would care for his land with love and honesty.

Discussion Questions:

1. Why was Chen ashamed when his pot was empty?

2. Do you think it was fair for the Emperor to give the children seeds he knew would never grow?

October 2008

The Better Offer
Adapted from an historical Islamic tale

Uthman Ibn Affan was one of the very first followers of the prophet Muhammad, who started the Muslim religion. He was a very wealthy man who was known far and wide for his generosity. In fact, he was so generous with his money and possessions that people still tell stories about him today, more than a thousand years later!
Uthman lived in Medinah, which is in modern day Saudi Arabia. This is a very dry part of the world where there isn't a lot of rainfall. One year, in the year 640, to be precise, the rains did not come and there was a drought.

Without any rain, food crops withered. There were no figs on the fig trees, no olives on the olive branches. The people of Medinah and all of their animals were running out of food. In fact, things got so bad that the people had to eat the leaves from the trees in order to survive. Without food, the people knew they could starve.

You can imagine how happy the people were the day they learned that a caravan of 1000 camels was approaching Medinah. Each camel was laden down with food. The people began to imagine the smells that would fill their kitchens when they were cooking their favorite meals. Their mouths watered as they imagined the tastes of their favorite foods. Best of all, they imagined going to bed with full
bellies for the first time in weeks.

Knowing that the caravan belonged to Uthman ibn Affan made the people rejoice even more, for they knew of his reputation for generosity. Surely he would give them a good price on the food he had for sale.

The merchants also rejoiced to hear that the caravan was approaching. For months business had been slow because they had no food to sell. The people of Medinah had stopped spending money in their shops. The merchants began to imagine their shops filled with hungry people, willing to spend any amount of money in order to eat and feed their families.

Knowing that the caravan belonged to Uthman ibn Affan was not welcome news for the merchants, however, for he had a reputation for being a very sharp businessman. Although he was fair, Uthman ibn Affan drove a very hard bargain.

Nonetheless, the merchants immediately went to Uthman ibn Affan. They wanted to buy the food from his caravan from him so they could sell it in their shops. They knew that in this time of famine, they could re-sell the food in their shops for two or even three times its usual price. So they were ready to pay any price Uthman ibn Affan asked.

Uthman ibn Affan received all of the merchants graciously. No one was surprised, however, when he rejected their first offers.

"I am afraid I cannot do business with you," he said, "for I have already received a better offer."

The merchants had expected they would have to offer him more money for the food, and they did. They raised their offers, again and again, but each time Uthman declined, repeating, "I am afraid I cannot do business with you, for I have already received a better offer."

The merchants began to grumble among themselves. At this rate, they would barely make any money when they sold the food. Besides, they would have to charge so much money for the food the people of Medinah would barely be able to afford it. Perhaps Uthman's reputation for generosity was exaggerated. By refusing the prices they offered, he was driving the price for the food higher and
higher. Some folks in Medinah might not even be able to afford it at all.

Finally the merchants made their best offer: five times the value of the cargo. Surely Uthman would accept. Who could possibly have offered more?

"I am sorry," Uthman responded. "I cannot do business with you. You see I have received a better offer from Allah, from God, for Allah has said that anyone who gives away wealth in Allah's name will get back far more than he gave away."

So it was that Uthman ibn Affan refused all of the money the merchants offered him. Instead, he gave away all of the food carried by the 1000 camels in his caravan. He gave it away in Allah's name for free to the starving people of Medinah.

Questions for " The Better Offer".

1. Do you think the merchants cared about the starving people?
2. What would you have done if you had been Uthman ibn Affan?
3. Are people in the world today starving? Does some one try to help them? How can you help?

 

September 2008

A Lamp in Every Corner
Janeen K. Grohsmeyer

Many years ago in the land of Transylvania, in a mountain valley watered by quick rushing streams and shadowed by great forests of beech trees, there was a village of small wooden houses with dark-shingled roofs. The people in the village were of the Unitarian religion, and they wanted a church of their own. A church set on the hillside, they decided, looking down upon the village as a mother looks down upon her sleeping child.

So all the people of the village labored long and hard to build themselves a church. The stonemasons hammered sharp chisels to cut great blocks of gray stone, then set the stones into stout and sturdy walls. The glaziers made tiny glass panes and fitted them neatly into the windows with leaded lines. The foresters sawed tall beech trees into enormous beams and laid the trusses for the ceiling, then covered the roof with close-fitting wooden shingles that wouldn't leak a drop of rain. The carpenters carved wood for the pair of wide-opening doors, setting them on strong pegs so that the doors hung straight and square. A bell was brought from a faraway city, then hoisted by ropes with a heave and a ho to the top of the tower. The weavers wove fine cloths for the altar table, cloths embroidered with flowers and edged with lace. The smiths hammered black iron into tall lamp stands and hammered thin bronze into shining oil lamps.

Finally, when the building of the church was done, the painting of the church could begin. The painters mixed bright colors: royal red and shimmering gold and brilliant blue, and everyone in the village-old and young, women and men, boys and girls-came to decorate their church. They painted flowers. They painted trees. They painted designs around the windows and different designs around the doors.
And at the end of the day, when it was finished-when their church was finally done-all the people of the village stood back to admire it . . . and then to sing, a song of happiness and praise. Their village had a church now, a church set on the hillside, looking down upon the village as a mother looks down upon her sleeping child.
"We will eat now!" announced an elder of the village, because everyone was hungry after their long day's work. "And later tonight, we will come back to pray."
So the people of the village went down the hillside to their homes and their suppers, all except one little girl named Zora and her father, who stayed behind. They had brought their own bread and cheese. They ate their food slowly, sitting on the grass on the hillside and admiring their new church with its strong stone walls, its tall tower, and its magnificent bell.

After they had eaten, they went back inside, opening those carved wooden doors to go into the gloriously painted sanctuary inside. "Oh, look, Father!" Zora cried, running from picture to picture, with her footsteps echoing off the stone walls. "See how pretty the church is!" She stopped in the center of church and twirled slowly around. "See how grand!"

"Yes, it is," said her father, looking around and nodding with pride. "Yes, it is."

"But, Father," she said suddenly, "we have not finished!"

"What do you mean?"

"There are tall iron lamp stands all along the walls, but there are no lamps! The church will be dark when the people come back."

"Ah no, little one," said her father. "The light of the church comes from its people. You shall see!" He rang the bell to call the people to worship, then took his daughter by the hand and led her back outside. They waited on the grassy hillside, next to their beautiful church of strong gray stone.

The sun had set behind the mountains, and night was coming soon. Yet in the growing darkness, tiny points of light came from many directions and moved steadily up the hill.

"Each family is entrusted with a lamp, little one," her father explained. "Each family lights its own way here."

"Where is our family's lamp?"

"Your mother is carrying it. She will be here soon."

The many lights moved closer together, gathering into one moving stream, all headed the same way, growing larger and brighter all the time. Zora's mother arrived, bearing a burning oil lamp in her hands. The father lifted Zora so she could set their family's lamp high in its tall iron stand. All around the church, other families were doing the same. Soon the church was ablaze with light in every corner, for all the people of the village had gathered to pray and to sing.

All through the worship service, Zora watched the lights flicker and glow. She watched her family's lamp most of all. When the service was over, her father lifted her high. She took the shining bronze lamp from the lamp stand. Its curved sides were warm and smooth in her hands. Her mother carried the lamp home, with the flame lighting the way.

The lamp flame lit their house when they returned home. Zora washed her face and got ready for bed by the light of that flame. "Mother," Zora began, as she climbed into bed and lay down.

"Yes, little one?" her mother asked, tucking the red wool blanket around Zora's shoulders.

"Father said the light of the church comes from its people."

"Yes."

"But also, the people take their light from the church!" Over on the table by the fireplace, the shiny bronze lamp was still burning. "And we have that light every day."

"Yes, indeed," said her mother. "And even when we are not in church, even when the lamp is not lit, we carry the light of truth in our minds and the flame of love in our hearts to show us the right way to be. That light-the light from truth and love-will never go out."

"Never?" asked Zora.

"Never," said her mother. "And this bronze lamp will last for many, many years. When you are grown, we will give the bronze lamp to you, and when your children are grown, you will give the lamp to them, and all of you will carry it back and forth to church every time."

"But there is only one lamp," Zora said.

"So make another, and let the light grow. And someday, tell your children to make more lamps, too. And now goodnight," her mother said and kissed Zora once on this cheek and once on that cheek and once on the forehead. Zora closed her eyes and drifted into dreams, while her mother looked down upon her sleeping child.
The years passed; Zora grew. The bronze lamp came into her care. She kept it polished and clean, and when the bell rang out across the valley to call the people to worship, she carried the lamp back and forth to the church on the hillside, the flame always lighting her way. When the time came, she made more lamps and gave them to her children, who made more lamps and gave them to their children, and so it went, on through the years, even until today.

And always, the light of truth and the flame of love from that Unitarian church on the hillside continued to grow and show them-and us-the way.

Source: from the storybook A Lamp in Every Corner: A Unitarian Universalist Storybook - Janeen K. Grohsmeyer (UUA Lifespan Faith Development, 2004)
Copyright: The author has given Unitarian Universalist Association member congregations permission to reprint this piece for use in public worship. Any reprints must acknowledge the name of the author.

Lamp in Every Corner story questions

1. How do you take the "light from the church" home each Sunday?

2. In the story, the people of the village work together to build their church. our building is old, but do you think we are still working together to build our church? I what ways?

3. In what other ways is the church in the story like the First Church?