Special excerpt from Homespun Jewish Folktales

The following homily was told as a time story on Robert Schuller's Hour of Power program in 1990. Variations of the story have been told for years. I read the story first from Dr. Clarence Riedenbach in a report from the Oakland Ecumenical Council, and years later this version from Patricia Polacco. Regardless of the origin or the characters, the theme and the inter-religious relationships touch us. It is a story that could have occurred anywhere in America, but here it is set in my home state of Michigan.

                                     THE HOLIDAY QUILT

As a long time practicing Kabbalist I have learned that nothing happens by accident, everything has a purpose. However, there are those who say there is no balance in the universe and that all things simply happen randomly . . . without purpose. Take for instance, one Jonathan Jefferson Weeks. He was most upset that his family came all the way from Memphis, Tennessee, when his father accepted the position of pastor at the tiny Elk Creek Baptist Church just inside the city limits of Detroit, Michigan. Even though their new home was on the outskirts . . . It was still Detroit! Nothing like the South, nothing like Tennessee! What possible good reason could there be for leaving their comfortable home and coming to this almost foreign place? Jonathan decided that there could not be any good purpose in coming here. After all it wasn 't Memphis.

Jonathan Jefferson Weeks' father's church in Memphis had been so beautiful—new and gleaming. Everyone had loved to come to his father's services and Jonathan loved his school. He had just made it on the soccer team! And even though he was a "PK," a preacher's kid, his friends there didn't treat him any differently than anyone else.

Here in Detroit, Michigan, his father's new church was practically falling down. It was rickety and old. And the parsonage was right next door. Here everything about their life screamed . . . PK!

"Why did we come here, Daddy?" Beth asked her father at dinner one night. "The church building looks awful. And nobody comes to the services."

"The deacons sent your father here because this little church is in such need of new life!" Jonathan's mother said. "Your father made our church in Memphis into something beautiful, didn't he? You should have seen it when we first arrived there!"

"It couldn't have been as bad as this place," Jonathan said.

"Oh, but it was, Jonathan . . . Worse!" His father smiled. "Something tells me we should be here, and that is why we are here. Their parents took them into the living room and pulled out a photo album from one of the packing boxes. Jonathan and Beth couldn't believe their eyes. Their father was right. The Tennessee church had been worse ... far worse!

"How did you do it, Dad?" Jonathan asked.

"Just the way I'm going to do it here. But I am going to need both of you to help me! There's a lot of hard work needed here. It is going to take lot's of it to repair and rebuild this church. But I'll also need you to be cheerful and brave. When you see what we're going to do to this church, your spirits will be lifted." Beth and Jonathan tried to smile. "I predict that by, let's see ... this very Christmas, the church building will be something that we will all be proud of!" their father said. "When it is finished, people, special people will come. You'll see!"

Even though Beth and Jonathan missed Memphis, they threw themselves into the tasks that were assigned to them. For that whole summer they both helped clear out trash, cut back bushes, mow the lawns and plant flower bulbs for the next spring. They scrubbed floors, washed walls and even helped with the painting. When school started, they were so involved with the rebuilding of the church, they didn't even miss their old friends. They were in fact, making new ones.

By fall, not only was the church looking better, but Sunday services were becoming more and more crowded with people. Jonathan's father was just what this neighborhood needed. Folks were very friendly now, and everyone was anxious to help. Even Jonathan's new classmates came to help paint. It seemed that everything that the neighbors and friends and family did was turning the church into a beautiful place!

As fall stretched into winter, the church was almost finished. Jonathan's father was right ... It would be a perfect Christmas. "Here Dad," Jonathan said as he handed up a loaded paintbrush to his father on the stepladder one December day.

Reverend Weeks dabbed the last spot of paint on the sacristy wall. "There! Now the artist can paint the wonderful scene we've planned," he said. "It's going to be a glorious painting of our Lord."

Jonathan could hardly wait to see the painting. And it would be done in time for Christmas Eve. He walked over to the window and watched the snow steadily falling outside. "I've heard that a blizzard may be coming, Dad . . . And here in Michigan, a blizzard can be really bad!"

"I've heard that, too, but our home is very warm and cozy and so is out new church," Reverend Weeks said as he hugged his number one son. "We won't let it bother us, will we?"

That next week brought the worst snow that had been seen in Detroit in twenty-five years! One morning, Mr. Brown, the caretaker, knocked at the parsonage door. He looked full of dread. "Reverend Weeks, come quickly!"

Jonathan, Beth and their parents rushed next door. As they entered the church, they all gasped. A dark water stain covered the sacristy wall . . . Right where the painting of Jesus was to be.

"Ice built up on the edge of the roof and held back water," Mr. Brown said. "Standing water, that ran into the building and down the sacristy wall."

"How can this be happening?" Mrs. Weeks cried. "The artist we commissioned to do the painting was going to start tomorrow."

"Isn't there anything we can do?" the reverend asked Mr. Brown.

"We can chip the ice to let out the standing water on the roof." He lightly pushed at the watery wall. There was a huge crack, a rush of water, and a piece of plaster fell on the carpet with a dull thud.

"Dad!" Jonathan cried out. "Now there's a big ugly hole in the wall . . . Right where everybody will see it. I even see wooden slats."

"I know a plasterer. He lives in the same building I do. His name is Abraham Zukor. He'll be able to fix it for us," Mr. Brown said.

"Before Christmas Eve?" Jonathan asked, filled with innocent youthful hope.

"No sir!" Mr. Brown said. "This here wall needs to dry out first. The plastering may not be finished until spring.

"I just knew something would spoil our Christmas!" Jonathan cried.

"Now, now. I'll call Abie anyway. He may have a different solution," Mr. Brown added softly.

Later that night, Reverend Weeks sat on a stool near the edge of Jonathan's bed. "I miss Memphis!" the boy cried. "I know you believe God always has a plan, but what plan could have brought us here?" Jonathan sobbed. We've worked so hard, then God sends this blizzard. Everything is ruined. Christmas will be ruined. What good could possibly come out of this. I don't understand."

"Well, son, although we don't always understand, the universe unfolds as it should," his father said rocking the boy in his arms. "Tomorrow will be another day, and perhaps things won't seem so bleak when you wake up to a new morning." Then he kissed the boy good night and closed the door.

The nest morning, Jonathan awoke to a cold snap and freezing snow. His mother has asked his father to drive to downtown Detroit to pick up some Christmas decorations that she had ordered from Horrocks. Jonathan didn't want to go. He felt so bad about the church wall. What good would decorations do now?

Then, as if the damage to the church wasn't bad enough, the battery to the family car was dead. "It's all right, Jonathan. We can take the bus," his father said.

The boy's face fell. Take a slow old bus all the way downtown and back? Yeeck. "Why do we need decorations anyway—the church is ruined. Everybody will just sit and look at the hole in the wall," he mumbled as they boarded the bus.

Downtown, Jonathan and his father slogged through freezing snow. The wind stung their faces. After they had picked up the decorations, they stepped into an alley to get out of the bitter wind. It wasn't an alley, really, because it was lined by odd little shops. Antiques mostly. Jonathan and his father leaned against one of the windows to catch their breath for a moment, before going back into the freezing cold.................

Miracles unfold and you will need a Kleenex when you read the ending of this truly wonderful story. You can purchase Homespun Jewish Folktales from Amazon.com  or from our order page.