Monday, 23 May 2016

Blind Faith

I had assembled a rattle, a teddy, a pencil sharpener and a Duracell battery to flourish at a circle of three-year-olds in Sunday school. With these I hoped, by some divine miracle, to explain the mystery of the Trinity. Why, if things went well, I might even end up understanding it myself.

As the introit hymn began, my optimism was fading. How do you teach the infinite and the unknowable? How, armed with my household plunder, do I foster faith in the unseen?

I had underestimated the quiet certainty of children.

Has anyone, I asked, seen God? The Duracell battery, concealed in a rummage bag, was waiting to show how one can believe without seeing.  But…

"I have!" piped a three-year-old.
"Where?" I asked, disconcerted.
"In the jungle."
"What did He look like?"
"He had a long trunk".

A pause. I held my props ready to enlighten the doubters.

"Has anyone else seen God?" I asked.
"I have!" replied a four-year-old.
"In the garden."
"What did He look like?"
"He had a white T shirt."
"How do you know it was God?"
"Because I saw him."