A Sermon About a Donkey for Asses Like Us - John 12: 12-19

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

It was just a donkey – a young one, at that. Jesus rides into the city of Jerusalem on the back of a beast of burden. Not much of a hero’s animal, is it? We might expect Him to be astride a stallion – Hi, ho, Silver! – or in a chariot pulled behind a magnificent mare. Perhaps some would have expected Him to be riding in a litter – the raised, boxed platform on long poles carried on the shoulders of slaves – used by kings. Jesus rides a donkey, instead.

Donkeys are loud, stubborn, not of great stature, and slow, plodding beasts of burden. They are the punchline of jokes and the antiheroes of stories. People who behave in a stupid, stubborn way are referred to as a three-letter synonym of donkey. In the Disney adaptation of Pinnochio, the boys turn into donkeys because they misbehave and fall into a trap. 

The English poet, philosopher and lay theologian G. K. Chesterton wrote a poem called “The Donkey.” [1]

When fishes flew and forests walked

   And figs grew upon thorn,

Some moment when the moon was blood

   Then surely I was born.

 

With monstrous head and sickening cry

   And ears like errant wings,

The devil’s walking parody

   On all four-footed things. 

And Jesus choses to ride into the city on the back of this very animal. It’s a rather strange pulpit, isn’t it? But then, again, Jesus has been in strange places before, preaching in fields, on hillsides, and in boats.

When Jesus rode into Jerusalem astride a donkey, he let us in on a secret.

“God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, the weak things of the world to shame the strong, the base things of the world and the despised, God has chosen, the things that are not, that he might nullify the things that are, that no man should boast before God,” (1 Corinthians 1:27-29).

God choses to ride into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey.

I don’t know a lot about donkeys. I am making an assumption, here, that in some aspects they are like horses. One does not simply climb onto the back of a horse and ride it. It has to be trained, broken to the saddle. There’s a reason that the back of an untrained horse is called “the hurricane deck” – it’s going to be a rough ride until the horse settles in. I assume the same is true of a donkey. One does not just climb onto the back of a donkey – especially a young one, full of fire and brimstone – without having a series of appointments preemptively made at the chiropractor’s office.

Jesus rides a young, unbroken donkey colt. It’s as if this humble beast of burden knows Who it is riding upon his back, that he, one of the most humble pieces of creation, is carrying his Creator. He, the donkey, submits to the will of the One who, Himself, is submitting to the will of the heavenly Father. The beast of burden carries the One who carries the sins of the world. The servant of all animals serves the One who came to serve and give His life as a ransom for men.

We know that Jesus came to die for sinners. He came to rescue and redeem you and me and all of humanity. But, and this is an important “but” in light of this morning’s Gospel reading, never forget that Jesus also comes to redeem all of creation. From live oak trees suffering from oak wilt, to Texas horney toads that are slowly disappearing, from wild-fire scorched prairies to hurricane-torn oceans, from volcanoes that spew ash across thousands of square miles to earthquakes that rent the earth apart, Christ also redeems creation.

And, that includes the humble donkey upon which He rode into Jerusalem. Jesus is carried by one for whom He will carry the cross.

As Jesus enters Jerusalem on the back of a donkey, He is surrounded by asses, all braying their shouts of “Hosanna: save us!” The Jewish leaders don’t get the fuss. The crowd thinks of Him only as a glorified physician who can raise the dead. The disciples don’t yet understand or believe the purpose of the cross. The Romans don’t care who He is, as long as He doesn’t cause a riot. But the donkey cares. He is carrying Jesus, Son of David, Son of God. He is heading to the cross. At the cross, Jesus is Messiah, the Christ, the Savior, the Son of God who fulfills all of the promises of God. In his book, A Glorious Dark, A. J. Swoboda notes the irony. “Jesus, the Savior of humankind, rides awkwardly on a plodding donkey to a prepared spot where he’d soon die for a whole wide world of asses. Jesus rides upon the thing he’d soon die for.” Jesus dies for donkeys like the one who carried Him; He dies for asses like you and me. 

If you look at the back of a donkey, there’s a dark line that runs down his spine. It meets a dark line that runs laterally across the shoulders. From the side, it’s hardly noticeable, but from the top down you’ll see that those lines form a cross. There is a legend – please hear that word, like Paul Bunyon and George Washington’s cherry tree speech – there’s a legend that the cross appeared on the donkey after he carried Jesus into Jerusalem. If you look on a donkey’s back, to this day, they are thus marked for the honor he had in carrying the Master. Whether true or not, it remains true that the only one who recognized Jesus for Who He is has the God of Creation sitting on his back.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,

   Of ancient crooked will;

Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,

   I keep my secret still.

 

Fools! For I also had my hour;

   One far fierce hour and sweet:

There was a shout about my ears,

   And palms before my feet.[2]

The donkey is the faithful preacher, preaching to us in silence. But, he carries us where we also need to be this Palm Sunday, entering Holy Week just as Jesus entered into Jerusalem. The donkey takes Jesus towards the cross. With his head, and with the mark on his back, the donkey points us where we need to be: the cross. That’s where we see Jesus.

 

 

---

[1] https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47918/the-donkey

[2] ibid

Demanding Glory and Getting the Cross - Mark 10: 35-45

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Jesus called James and John “The Sons of Thunder.” I can see why. They make a thunderous, loaded request: “Teacher, do for us whatever we ask of you.” On second thought, it’s less a request and more a demand. At least when your children do this, they have the decency to ask, “Mom, if I ask you a question, will you promise to say ‘yes’?” These guys demand it of Jesus: give us what we want. It’s insult to injury: first, merely calling Jesus “teacher” – not recognizing He is their Lord and Master who has called them to discipleship; second, assuming that they know better what they need than He who is God-in-flesh.  Sons of Thunder, indeed, acting as if they were the sons of God, not Jesus.

Their request: glory. They want the positions of honor at Jesus’ side when He enters His kingdom that they presume to be, well, glorious. I wonder how that conversation went beforehand – who was going to get the right side, the number one spot, and who would get the left, the number two spot. How did they determine that? Arm wrestling? Lawn darts? Either way, they wanted to corner the market, leave the other Ten out in the cold. Somehow, those thunderous boys saw themselves as worthy. Surely, when Jesus ascended His throne, those positions would come with fame, fortune, and corner offices – the equivalent of Vice President and Secretary of State. Jesus would make a name for Himself and they would make names for themselves. And, perhaps one day, one of them would inherit His kingdom. The other ten? They can be in the cabinet.

Sounds foolish, doesn’t it? Such behind-the-scenes chicanery; manipulating and maneuvering to get on Jesus’ good sides (literally); seeking out positions of power. And, more than that, demanding Jesus give them what they want.

But, before we berate them too heavily for their foolish demands, perhaps we should place ourselves in the picture as well. For, when we do, we realize that this is an affliction that we share with those brothers, thundering to tell God what it is that we need, what we want, and we expecting – no, demanding! – that He hear and answer in the affirmative. Give us what we want, God! New job, good grades, popularity among peers, new cars and fashionable clothes, a relationship with Mr. or Miss Right or fix the one we are in, health, wealth and happiness, the right school, the right career, the right house, the right life on 123 Easy Street. We want it our way, right of way, and we want it without pain, struggle or heartache. Give us what we demand of you, God…even when we don’t realize all that comes with it.

I find it interesting that in Mark’s Gospel, every time Jesus speaks about His going to the cross, the disciples just don’t, won’t or can’t understand what he means. This is the third time in Mark when Jesus clearly predicts His passion and resurrection. In chapter 8, Peter rebukes Him (8:32), in chapter 9, His disciples argue about who is the greatest (9:34), and now James and John seek positions of honor.

The brothers didn’t realize what Jesus was talking about, let alone what they were asking. Jesus even calls them out on it. “You do not know what you are asking.” He speaks of drinking a cup, of a baptism He must undergo. Jesus is talking about the cross. He is speaking of His suffering and dying, the mockery and tragedy, all at the hands of the Jewish leaders and the Gentiles who hold the power of execution.

That doesn’t slow the boys down an iota. You can imagine them nodding their heads, oh, yes we do, but their ideas are all pie-in-the-sky. They are thinking glory in earthly terms where armies protect, gold buys, politicians exert power against the will of others, and kings sit on thrones in vast palaces drinking wine out of fancy goblets while surrounded by servants and slaves. It’s the kind of thing that has caused wars and bloodshed since the beginning of time.

Jesus’ glory is backwards – or, it appears so from an earthly and worldly perspective. He has not come to be served but to serve. His Kingdom is not of this world; yet it is in the world without anyone seeing it. If you look for Jesus to be surrounded by pomp and circumstance, you will never find it. His reign is so subtle that it is almost unnoticed.  His army is heavenly and angelic, not sweaty, grungy soldiers. His weapons are not swords and spears, but words, words that call sinners to repentance and promise life, forgiveness, grace, and compassion; words that fall on ears that are not willing to hear and listen to the very Word of God incarnate. He will not sit in a fine palace while sipping the finest of aged wines. He will have a throne, though – a cross-shaped, rough-hewn throne, thrust into the ground, where He will hang, surrounded by those who hate Him and His word. When Jesus was baptized in the Jordan, water dripped from His face and beard while the Father’s voice echoed, “This is my son.” In this baptism He is soon to undergo, the Father will remain silent as blood drips from Jesus’ hands, feet, and from His thorn-pierced head. All the while, Jesus submits passively to those authorities whom God has placed in positions of honor, uttering not a word against them, instead praying for their forgiveness. He dies as He lived: perfectly, sinless in Himself but drenched in the sins of the world; fulfilling God’s wrath against mankind’s sins; drinking deeply of the cup filled with the nastiest and grossest of the dregs, the flotsam and jetsam and detritus, of mankind’s sins.

That is the glory of the Son of Man, for he comes not to be served but to serve and give His live as a ransom for many. His glory is only seen the cross.

The positions of glory that the brothers so desire? They are not Jesus’ to grant. Those positions will be given to two special people – neither of which are James or John. Luke reports it this way: “And when they came to the place that is called The Skull, there they crucified Him, and the criminals, one on his right and one on His left.” One criminal hung onto his theology of glory: “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” He wanted Jesus to demonstrate His power now – never mind that he apparently had no use for Jesus in death, not in life. He wanted a glorious spot next to Jesus away from the cross. But the other understood life under the cross: that it wasn’t about the immediate, but the eternal; it wasn’t about his name, but the Name of the one who hung next to him: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Jesus comes as a suffering Servant to serve. His followers, His disciples, His baptized believers who share His cup. It’s no longer a cup of suffering. His suffering was enough. Take and drink, He invites; this cup is a cup overflowing with forgiveness, life and salvation in His blood. He drained the dregs of curses so you might instead be filled with the cup of blessing.

James and John will not understand this until after Jesus dies and rises. You have seen the resurrected Jesus. You, baptized children of God, are here to serve, to lay down your lives for the sake of the Gospel, the Good News of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. We live in a world filled with glory seekers, power hounds, and easy button hunters. They laugh at the cross and see it only as a symbol of foolishness and weakness. You see it otherwise. You see the cross as an instrument of death that God used instead to give life. You know that greatness in His kingdom is not about power but about sacrifice. “Whoever would be great among you must be your servant; whoever would be first among you must be slave of all.” That’s how the kingdom of God looks in this world. Humble, self-giving servants of the Servant of all, who endured the baptism of His cross and drank the cup of God’s wrath in order to save you, me and the world.

Do you want to be great in the kingdom of God? Be a servant of all. Do you want to be first? Then be last. Do you want a seat near Jesus? Then go sit among the least and the lost and the lowly and the losers of this world and you will find the Savior of all. He has a cup for you, drink it. He has a Baptism for you, be baptized into it. He has forgiveness, life and salvation for you. Believe it.

 

 

The Equality Act is Anything But "Equal"

From the Desk of Pastor Meyer

March 1, 2021

Dear friends in Christ,

In my February Messenger article, I wrote and encouraged you to pray for our government officials, including those with whom we disagree socially, politically, and theologically. I urge you to continue doing this most important and noble of tasks in your dual vocations as Christian and as citizen. I also encourage you to be mindful and attentive to what is happening in government so you can be well informed as a Christian citizen. Be prepared to offer both a Christian worldview and critique to fellow citizens and to the men and women who serve us in Washington. Support them when you are able; disagree when you need to; oppose when necessary – always in Christian love.

On Thursday, February 25, the United States House of Representatives passed a bill that has been called “The Equality Act.” The bill passed by a vote of 224 to 206, largely along party lines. This bill now heads to the Senate for debate and vote to become law. Because of this bill, it may be time for us to speak against that which is taking place in Washington.

The name of the bill is laudable: every citizen does deserve to be treated equally under the laws of the land. Unfortunately, in many ways, this Act does exactly the opposite. The Heritage Foundation is a social and political conservative research group. A recent article on their website summarizes this bill in this way (https://www.heritage.org/gender/report/11-myths-about-hr-5-the-equality-act-2021):

The proposed Equality Act of 2021 (H.R. 5) would make mainstream beliefs about marriage, biological facts about sex differences, and many sincerely held beliefs punishable under the law. The Equality Act makes discrimination the law of the land by forcing Americans to conform to government-mandated beliefs under the threat of life-ruining financial and criminal penalties. Presented as a bill with commonsense and decent protections against discrimination, H.R. 5 is anything but. The Equality Act politicizes medicine and education and demolishes existing civil rights and constitutional freedoms. (Emphasis mine.)

The article offers careful criticism of eleven popular claims made by the bill’s proponents. I would commend the article, and other resources at www.heritage.org, for your information.

There is no doubt that with its current language, the Equality Act will negatively impact the Christian Church and our confession of faith in the public sector. The Act stands opposite of our beliefs regarding what the Word of God says about sin, repentance, and grace. It will attack the Biblical role of genders, forcing girls to compete against boys in unevenly matched athletic contests and making women share private spaces (like restrooms, dressing rooms, and locker rooms) with men who claim to be women. It opens the door for taxpayer-funded abortions, gender mutilation, and will force health professionals and educators to follow this line of thinking under threat of losing their jobs. It would even strip parents of their right, responsibility, and beliefs regarding gender and sexuality issues for their child.

It is easy and tempting to think all is hopeless. With it having passed the House, President Biden has indicated his support for the bill to become law should it pass the Senate.

What can you do? Instead of playing the hopeless victim of an increasingly secular society, I offer you both a spiritual and a temporal response.

Spiritually speaking, know this: we are battling against things that are not of this world and an enemy that is not flesh and blood, satan himself. He is hard at work to neuter the Church and Her confession – anything to get in the way of God’s Word proclaimed in truth and purity. Jesus’ question, “Who do you say I am?” must be able to be answered without retribution. The devil wants to silence these words and he is gleeful, I am sure, at what is being done behind the premise of legislation couched in “equality.” In times like this, the words of St. Peter are most apropos: “But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander” (1 Peter 3:15-16). 

The greatest weapon you have as a Christian citizen is prayer. If you do nothing else, carry this to the Lord in your prayers, for wisdom and courage as you speak against this bill; that He guides Congress to humble themselves before Him; that He leads our citizenry to repentance; and that He gives the Church leaders who are willing and able to stand firm for the Gospel. The Psalms offer many prayers for God’s people when facing enemies that attack, such as this.

Temporally speaking, get involved as a Christian citizen. We are blessed with two state Senators who oppose the bill. Take nothing for granted: write them, anyway, indicating your strong support of their opposition to this bill. You can find the contact information for Senators Cornyn and Cruz at https://www.senate.gov/states/TX/intro.htm and write, call, or email. Be succinct, courteous, and kind but be firm in expressing why you oppose the bill. It may be helpful to briefly summarize the points from the Heritage Foundation article, or those I expressed above, in your communication. We need to speak out about this together, as members of our congregation, as Lutherans, as Christians, as part of the body of Christ who are also citizens of this nation.

The same is true in your relationships with other people. Speak winsomely but firmly to persuade others of the Biblical worldview against this bill. If you know people who live in other states, encourage them to become involved, too, in contact their senators, speaking with others, and joining in prayer.

Lest you think this is all an academic exercise, that this could never happen in the United States, Canada is already under a similar law. Clergy and churches have been forced to neuter their message against sin, sinful behavior, and so-called “lifestyle choices.” To those who have refused to comply, clergy have been jailed and churches severely punished with fines, forcing some to close their doors. This is a real and present danger to our Christian confession as American citizens. 

Finally, remember this: the Lord is still the Lord even if all around us seems to be crumbling. Jesus warned us that there would be temporal enemies against the Church. This is not unexpected. We continue to live in the world as Christian citizens by being Biblically aware, socially informed, and involved. Remain strong in faith, trusting that in the Lord, our labors are not in vain. Be of good courage and speak boldly knowing that the Holy Spirit will guide your words of confession. Be as wise as serpents and as gentle as doves. I’ll continue to share information on this as I know more.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, that you may overflow in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13. 

Pastor Meyer

Grumbling About Snakes and Looking Up to Jesus - Numbers 21:4-9

Last Saturday, we went to the Houston Zoo. Before we hit the park, we went out to breakfast with my mom, sister, Christopher’s friend, Alyssa, and the rest of us. While we were eating, we were laying out our plan for visiting the animals – where we would go first, what critters we were most wanting to see, the exhibits that had changed since the last time we were there. And, then it happened. “Of course, Dad won’t go with us in to the snake house.” Everyone laughed. Someone pointed at me. “No…he’s scared.” I can’t argue that. It’s a fact, a matter of record. If there was a line on my 1040, “Are you afraid of snakes,” I would gladly check that box and donate a dollar to study a cure for Ophidiophobia – the fear of snakes. Laura told a story of an experience I had 23 years ago, where I huddled up on the couch while my dad tried to sweep a grass snake out the back door. More laughter.

Mom looked at me. Ah…Mom would rescue me from this sneaky, snake talk. She leaned up, crossed her arms, and innocently said, “Well, yes – where did this terrible, crippling, debilitating fear come from?” The sarcasm was palpable.

I told her about the time when I was five and I finally got to help the neighbor big boys collect firewood for our campfire, but the stick I grabbed wasn’t a stick. I told her about a TV character that I idolized who was bitten by a snake and almost died on the show. I argued that my hero can be bitten and die, what chance do I, a mere mortal have? Mom nodded in mock sympathy. “Oh, you poor baby…how have you managed to survive all these years?” They claim dogs smell fear; do snakes smell sheer terror?  Obviously, I was not winning any sympathy points. I gave up the debate and finished breakfast, grumbling something about how I was not going into the snake house and no one was gonna make me.

I tell you this so you can understand why this morning’s Old Testament strikes me every time I read it. They were growing impatient in their journey and were more concerned about their own needs than faithfulness to God and trusting His promises. They complained to Moses; they complained to God: “There is no food or water,” they said, complaining even about the mana that God had provided for them earlier. To be fair, it had been decades since they left Egypt; it had been a generation that had eaten manna three times a day, seven days a week, for ten…twenty…thirty plus years. Imagine, going to HEB Plus – 60 rows of nothing but oatmeal. And the next day, the same; and the week after that, the same. We can understand Israel’s grumbling…but that doesn’t justify it, that doesn’t make it right to grumble against God.

When God hears the grumbling, His reaction is swift, strong and decisive. He sends fiery serpents among the people who begin to bite the Israelites. Many die from the painful bite. Don’t misunderstand God’s actions, here: He is not vindictive, but He does this to cause Israel’s repentance. It doesn’t take long. “And the people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned against the Lord and against you. Pray to the Lord that he takes away the serpents from us.”

This is a logical prayer request, isn’t it? It both identifies the symptom – the snakes – and confesses the disease at the same time – their sinfulness towards God and His servant Moses. Their prayer makes the request that God removes the snakes from them so that people stop dying. The people pray; Moses prays. It’s a good prayer; it’s a sound prayer – at least a B+ rating. And God hears their prayer. God is good; God is holy, so of course God will remove the snakes – right?

Except He doesn’t. He doesn’t remove the snakes – at least, not yet - not as far as our text tells us, anyway. What He does do, however, is tell Moses to make a bronze serpent and hang it on a pole. “Everyone who is bitten, when he sees it, shall live.”

Why the bronze serpent? Why look at a bronze caricature of the very animal that is causing so much pain, suffering and death? Why must one look to the bronze serpent to live? Isn’t that God commanding idolatry – going against His own 2nd Commandment? For that matter, why allow the children of Israel to continue being bitten?

First, the power is not in the serpent, as if it were a god. That was Egyptian thinking, that animals were diety. Likewise, it is not in the sculpture, an idol. That was Caananite thinking. The power comes from the promise of God: look at this and live. Don’t overthink this, that God is promoting decision theology – you must decide to be saved. When you are dying, how can you choose to live? God is providing the life-saving and life-giving promise. Receive it in faith and you shall live; reject it and you shall die.

The bronze serpent also reminds the people that it is their sinful complaining that has caused these snakes to appear in the first place. Do not blame anyone but themselves for this terror. The power of the promise of God stands over and against the sins of the people.

But why allow the Israelites to continue to be bitten? Why not simply drive the slithering reptiles away so that they would all be safe? If the snakes were to disappear, the temptation would then be for Israel to turn back into their arrogant self-reliance and away from trust in God and His promises. With the snakes remaining, Israel must rely only on God’s mercy in the face of their sinfulness; His grace in the face of their destruction.

It all started with the grumbling. What’s the big deal, we think, after all we grumble all the time. This morning, we’re grumbling about the time change. Some grumble about having to wear masks; others grumble that people refuse to wear masks. We grumble about a teacher who assigned homework over the break. Or, the increasing cost of gasoline, or the length of our daily commute to work or school. Maybe we grumble about family at home, or family far away who never calls home. Grumble when it’s too hot or when it’s too cold; when it’s raining or when it hasn’t rained in weeks. Parishioners grumble because of the length of the pastor’s sermon, pastors grumble because of the comments made about his sermon and we grumble when no one says anything about it. We even grumble because people next to us are grumbling. Do you get the idea that we, as children of God, grumble a lot? And, yes – sometimes we grumble against God Himself: God, why did you; God, this isn’t fair; God, I thought you were… 

God doesn’t send snakes among us today, at least not that I’ve heard about, but that doesn’t mean the firey bites don’t still happen. There is a venom that courses through our hearts and minds. It shows up when you feel pessimistic about your life. It appears when you don’t see people in a positive light and instead, you assume the worst about people. When there’s a lack of peace, a discontent with what the Lord has given you. When you become unthankful, or even bitter. This is the kind of venom that courses in our veins.

What’s even worse is what that venom does with our relationship with the Lord. Remember – venom is toxic. That grumbling, complaining, negativity and bitterness – it causes you to lose focus on God’s gifts and blessings and seeing His hand in your life. Then praise and thanksgiving starts to more and more shallow and less and less frequent. It can become so toxic that you actually start to wonder what God is doing, why He even bothers with you, if it is worth your trying to be His child.

You notice what Israel did…they confessed their sin of grumbling, and they looked up and lived. You know what it is that we do…we confess our sins of grumbling, and look up and live. You don’t look up to a snake on a pole; you look to Christ on the cross. When Jesus is lifted up on the cross, the pattern is true for us as well: recognize our sins, confess them to our Lord, and look up in trust and live.

The cross is not a magic talisman, that if you look at this object, this wood or bronze or stone or glass or foam or paper cross gives life – no. The cross is the place, the locatedness, where God hung His Son so that whoever looks at Christ in faith, the Savior of the World who died on the cross; when you look to the cross as the place where your salvation was won, you shall live. The cross is the place where your grumbling and complaining and negativity and venomous outbursts all died in Christ and with Christ. And the cross is the place where, in Christ and through Christ, you receive life.

You look up at Jesus lifted up and you are raised up and you give thanks. Thanks replaces the grumbling.

Complain about family? No…give thanks you have a home and people there who love you. Grumble about a co-worker? No, give thanks that you have employment that provides for you and your family. Grumble about the weather? Give thanks for the rain and sun, the warm and the cool that makes the flowers and plants grow and produce beauty and food. Grumble? No…give thanks.

Just A Phone Number

My mom disconnected her landline on Monday. It sounds strange, but it caused a rather visceral, emotional reaction in my brain. That number, 863-9794, had been our family's phone number since we moved to Walburg in the summer of 1981, forty years ago. I was quickly taught to memorize that number and, if I was ever in trouble, I knew I could call that number or give it to an adult to call Mom and Dad for me. I wrote that number countless times for friends, teachers, and oodles of paperwork over the years. 

I called it even more. When baseball practice ended early, I fished the quarter ("Always carry a quarter in case you have to call home!" Mom taught me) out of my shoe. I knew the number to call. When I forgot my homework, or my pants ripped at recess, or we made it to the State marching contest finals so we'll be late getting back home, or the car didn't want to start, I dialed on auto-pilot. When I went to college and got my own landline phone, those seven numbered buttons got shiny from use. I called home to cry, to brag, to hear a friendly voice, to ask for a little extra money in my account. When our kids were born, I called that number long-distance to say "Grandma and Grandpa" for the first time. The morning my Dad died, I didn't have to see through my tear-swollen eyes to call Mom back - my fingers knew what to do.

Originally, it was a party line. If you don't know what a party line is, you literally shared a telephone line with other people. If you were stealthy, and picked up your receiver very carefully, you might get all sorts of useful - or totally useless - information about the neighbor's teenage daughter's newest interest. Of course, she might also hear what you were saying, so you had to keep a sharp ear out for a slight "click" that meant a new listener was on the line. If the neighbor was on the line, you had to wait 'til they were done, or if the conversation drug on and on, you would start picking up your receiver and replacing it less and less gently. It was a passive-aggressive form of telephone road rage that only party-line users understood. 

Our phone was '70s goldenrod color, almost the size of a shoe box, mounted to the wall, and had a 6 foot spiral cord (which could stretch to about ten feet) that connected the receiver to the main unit. It was heavy plastic and when you held that thing to your ear for too long, your arm started to go numb and you would switch hands - and ears! - to let circulation flow. To make a call, you picked the receiver up from its cradle, listened for a "hum" called a dial tone, and dialed the number. Yes, dialed - as in "turn." Our phone was rotary - no buttons at all. You stuck your finger in a hole correlating to the needed digit and turned the disc clockwise. As it cycled back around, counterclockwise to it's resting place, it made a slight "whir" sound and a series of clicks. Somehow, these magically and mysteriously translated into someone - my friend, our other neighbor, the lady selling eggs, Mickan's shop, or school - knowing we were calling them and then answering. And, if you were angry - really angry - you had the satisfaction of pounding that receiver on the counter, slapping it against your open palm, or even slamming it back in the cradle so that the person on the other end of the call knew just *how* mad you were at them. Nothing punctuated a conversation's end like a slammed phone.

When I was in college, Dad upgraded to a private line and then to a push-button phone that made tones, not clicks, when dialing. It sounds corny, now, but that was about a fifty year tech leap in our house. The phone was sleek and low profile, with an LCD screen that told you both the number you were calling or the number calling you, and sat on a cabinet. And when he added an answering machine, we thought we were in high cotton. 

After Dad passed, Mom built a house in the same town and moved her number with her. Come to think of it, I think the same phone moved, too. It was a comfort knowing that, even though there was a new address to learn and some new directions to follow, if I got lost (not likely in our small town, but you get the idea) I knew who and what to dial.

That number is now in the hands of someone else, I guess. Unlike fruitcake, numbers don't get saved by phone companies for special family members who are only seen at Christmas. Numbers get repurposed, reused and recycled. Maybe some day I'll call and find out who has it, now. Maybe I'll tell them about the five people who called that number "ours." Maybe I'll tell them about the phone calls made from and to that number. Maybe I'll wish them best of luck in making and getting their own memory-making phone calls.

But not today. Today, I'm in mourning. It'll never have the fame of 867-5309, but 863-9794 will always be a special place in my memory, my finger tips and my heart. But, I guess I best get busy learning Mom's cell number. It starts with an 8. I think. Only six more digits to go. Gotta get that committed to memory in case I get locked up for reading an unlicensed copy of Dr. Seuss or something.

So, I'll sign off the way my Dad did from that number: "Take care, now. Um-hm. 'Bye."