Trial

Ned was in a jam. He had his back up against the wall and the wall had a number of dysenteric pigeons roosting on its ledge. Ned sat in his office and reviewed the facts. The guinea pig was dead, there was no doubt there, and the second grade students wanted someone to blame. The students were threatening a revolt and how would that look on his resume. If he were a personal injury lawyer he would sue. He was not sure whom, but there was always somebody to sue. Fortunately for Ned, he was not a personal injury lawyer. Unfortunately, he was no great thinker either. The idea that he might explain to the children that death was the natural extension of life fully escaped him. So he did the only thing that the Principal of a school could do. Ned called a school assembly.

School assemblies were always held in the cafeteria, which also served as the school’s gym, art museum and theater. The children in each class lined up single file and marched into the large dining commons. We took our regular lunch seat places amidst a cloud of muffled accusations. The tables at which we sat created four long rows extending the entire length of the cafeteria. The older students sat near the back and the first and second graders up against the stage.

A rumble of anticipation swept through the audience as Ned walked to the middle of the stage and spoke into a microphone. I could see tables and props from last years Christmas pageant piled high on the stage behind Ned.

“Students, yesterday the second grade class lost a close friend and true hero," Ned said. "Today we have come together to mourn that loss.”

“And get satisfaction,” Sally shouted from her seat in the crowd. The students howled their approval.

“And get satisfaction,” Ned repeated nervously. “Although as a wise man once said,” Ned continued, “I can’t get no satisfaction.” He then laughed to himself and shrugged his shoulder as the congregation looked on in silence. Ned’s cheeks blazed red. He let go a squeak. “Well...pupils, after much deliberation I have decided that a one week suspension will be appropriate for the responsible student.” The students gave out a roar and many started clapping their hands and banging their fists against the table.

Ned leaned in close to the microphone. "First, we must identify the responsible student," he said.

The assembly went quiet.

The Principal ushered Jesus and another child up onto the stage. Jesus was immediately recognized by all of the students because of his recent notoriety. The other child was a second grader who had been caught stealing a carton of milk from the lunch lady.

The fact that the stealing of the milk had nothing to do with the guinea pig’s death escaped the Principal. It did not get pass the children, however. This student body had not gathered to admonish a scapegoat. They were here to condemn God for allowing death into his creation.

Ned asked each of the accused students to address the congregation.

The kindergarten students were normally kept separate from the rest of the school. However, today they joined the assembly as one of their own was on trial. Jesus stood calm, his confidence buoyed by the presence of his classmates.

Jesus was the smallest kid in school and on the large stage, backed by a fake donkey peering through a manger's window he appeared even more vulnerable. He walked to the front of the stage and did not appear nervous. He reached out to grasp the microphone, pulled it down and looked up so he could speak into it.

Jesus said, “There are things that we learn and others that we know."

The hall was silent and Jesus' words seemed to echo in its cavern. He continued with the knowledge that he held every child's attention. "I have trouble writing the letter J," he said. "I never know which way to curve its leg. I do not understand rhyming words and can not yet count to a hundred. I guess these are some of the things I might eventually learn."

"I do know that the power to heal is within each of us although the cured may not necessarily appear in the way that we desire. I know that each of you in some small but still very real way, control your own destiny. You need not look to others to create miracles for you because each of you is a living one."

"Rather than being troubled by the immutable nature of life you should focus on those things that you can change. The greatest miracle of all is the power that lies within you. You must seize this power and use it to the betterment of mankind. In this way we will create our own heaven.”

Jesus let go of the microphone and stepped back away from the microphone.

The children remained in their seats and gazed up on my brother, waiting for more. They had expected an apology or some final effort to raise Lazarus who lay in a Nike shoebox at the head of the second grade table. Some children stirred but nobody spoke. What Jesus said did not seem to make any sense to them.

Jesus looked over the crowd that had gathered before him and approached the microphone a second time.

"Finally, here comes the apology," I heard Steven Sodenberg say.

Jesus said, "My mind is full of ideas and I do not always know what they mean. I can see that you are all disturbed and seeking solace. There is comfort for those who depend on each other for strength; it is only by relying on each other that heaven becomes available to us. When sorrow touches our heart and we cry because of the pain of loss, it is in each other that we discover understanding and peace. We can see the true gift that is this world only when we become humble and realize our diminutive place in the great creation. When you place your neighbor above all human desires your thirst will be quenched." Jesus played with the hem of his sweater. He rolled the edge between his fingers as he thought. "We must learn to show mercy, then one day it might find us in our time of need. In keeping our hearts pure we will gain infinite sight and by making peace we will all become the children of God. There are blessings for those who are mistreated for the sake of love; justice will seek them out. This is the message I have for you."

I was so proud of him and began to clap my hands together, joined only by my father.

Our applause appeared lonely in the large auditorium. It soon found itself smothered by a slow stream of crescendoing “boos.”

"What kind of an apology is that?' Sally screamed. "We want Lazarus back."

The crowd showed its agreement with Sally by shouting even louder.

I stood up and cheered for my brother but Ned waved to me to sit down. I remained standing clapping my hands together until the last boo died away.

The Principal next asked the second accused to speak to the school. The little boy who stood near Jesus on the stage nervously stumbled up to the mike. The boy paused for a moment looking down at his feet unable to actually look at the jury assembled before him. Although the boy was not in my class, I quickly recognized him. He had dark, black, thick, curly hair. He was the only second grader to grow a full mustache and beard, which made him stand out from all of the other students. Mother had told me that he was on some medication that caused his body to become covered with hair.

“My name is Barabus,” he exclaimed in a deep voice, “I need to go pee.” He then backed away from the microphone.

Silence again descended upon the cafeteria.

Ned walked to the mike and asked whom we wanted to set free.

Sally stood up and yelled, “We want Barabus.”

Like a cloudburst breaking the night, the entire student body joined in a chorus of, “Set Barabus free. Set Barabus free.”

Barabus smiled. Always chosen last in kickball. Always wearing clothes bought at the Uniform Re-Sale held in the gym. Constantly ridiculed for growing a full beard in the second grade (children could not understand hirtsuism although they definitely knew how to hurt). Straddled with the heavy name of a famous thief, Barabus stood on the stage and beamed a smile. I think it was the first time he was chosen for anything.

“But what am I supposed to do with Jesus?” Ned asked.

The schoolchildren chanted, “Suspend him. Suspend him.” At first a handful stood and called out but soon all of the children from all of the rows stood and joined in the call. Jesus looked out from the rear of the stage, confused over what he had done to warrant such hatred from the multitude.

Satisfied that the matter had now been resolved, Ned wiped his sweaty hands off on the breast of his jacket. The students were sent back to the classrooms and the Principal carted off Jesus and called our mother to pick him up.

Jesus was forced to spend a week home from school. During that week Mom taught Jesus that the leg of his J curved to the left and that ignorance rhymed with fear.