YOU NEED A HATCHET [M, 10-21-23]

BEYOND WINTER: Irrelevant Memories of an Old Man—YOU NEED A HATCHET [M, 10-21-23]

 

When I was a young preacher, back in the 1950s, I heard my bishop, Richard Raines, tell this story: A little boy went to the corn crib to chase away the rats. There was one really big, scary rat that bared its teeth and glared at him. He did battle, and “vanquished” it. He ran to the house to tell his parents. He burst into the parlor. “There was this big scary rat. He bared his teeth at me. I swung my sick and hit him. I hit him again and again. He was a bloody mess…” He realized his parents were looking at him in wide-eyed shock. Why? They were used to… Then he saw another figure sitting there. The preacher! So he piously put his hands over his heart and sonorously intoned, “And then the Lord called the rat home.”

It was hilarious. If you lived on a farm. And if you understood that the preacher might drop in, unannounced, at any time of day, to check up on your spiritual condition. And if you understood how piously people tried to act on those occasions.

I understood all those things, and so did the people of my churches. So I used that story every time I was in a new church. It was great… until the telephone and television changed the whole culture.

Before telephones, not only preachers, but neighbors, relatives…almost anyone… would just drop by. But once folks had telephones, people no longer wanted anyone dropping in unannounced, especially the preacher. You were expected to telephone ahead and make an appointment. And you certainly didn’t want anyone, especially the preacher, interrupting your favorite TV program, since it aired only once and was non-retrievable.

But people really didn’t want you in their house at all, even if you did make an appointment, or the TV wasn’t on. Checking on your spiritual condition? That was way too personal. The need for an appointment was a handy way of avoiding that embarrassment entirely. 

In a way, I was ahead of my pastoral colleagues, for I was only nineteen when I started, and I did not feel comfortable dropping in on people. [Old widows were an exception. They thought of me as a grandchild.] Especially unannounced. And asking people about their spiritual condition? And giving advice or “counsel” to these people who were all older and more spiritual than I?

I knew, however, that this was an expected part of the job. I wasn’t quite sure why or how, but I tried. Until I stopped. The last thirty years of my ministry, I always made appointments. Still, I have dreams to this day of suddenly realizing I was supposed to be calling in the homes of my members and I had forgotten. And wondered if anyone had noticed. I wake up in a panic. [As much of a panic as I can muster about anything these days.

There were lots of funny stories about pastoral drop-in visits, and I loved hearing them, and telling them. In the one I like the most…a family had a front door that stuck badly. They could open it only by inserting the thin end of a hatchet blade between the door and the frame to pry it open, so they just didn’t use it. They went around to the back. All their friends and neighbors knew to go to the back door. The new preacher did not, so when he made a drop-in visit, one of the children looked out the window and saw who it was. The poor pastor heard a yell from inside, “It’s the preacher. Quick, get the hatchet.”

Anyway, you can relax. I’m not going to drop in on you, even if your spiritual condition could use some sprucing up.

John Robert McFarland

Daughter Katie Kennedy, the author, says that all the recent “weather events” have taught us that you need to keep a hatchet handy in case you have to chop your way out of your house after a tree has been clown down and blocked the door, etc. I keep a hammer beside the bed to break the window in case of fire, but I think I’ll replace it with a hatchet, which is more versatile in providing escape possibilities.