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I was in first grade
when I learned with joy
how to mark the counting
of five items with four
vertical lines and a
slanted one laid across
them. On a Big Chief
tablet I happily
recorded the number of
spoons in the silverware
drawer, the number of
towels on the clothes
line, the number of
chickens in the henhouse
(difficult because they
kept moving and
squawking). Soon
afterwards, I had the
disturbing vision of
God, looking down on me
and marking in his
ledger all my misdeeds.
Had I left the back door
open? Had I broken the
lead of a pencil and
laid it aside without
re-sharpening? Had I
made faces at my baby
sister?
In my vision, God was
using the same four
vertical lines and
crossbar that I had
become expert at. What
punishment would I
deserve for my
naughtiness, my
iniquities? Even at six,
I had learned that some
behaviors warrant
rewards . . . and some
warrant punishment.
Sixty years later I
still do not want the
treatment I sometimes
deserve. As Prince
Hamlet rebuked the
foolish chamberlain
Polonius, "Use every man
after his desert, and
who should `scape
whipping?" (II.ii)
No, indeed. Each of
us comes to a time when
we do not want what we
deserve. We hope for
something gentler,
something more generous.
We hope for mercy.
And so with the
psalmist, we wait for
forgiveness. We wait in
hope. |