Tales from the Cryptic

So, I was doing some spring cleaning the other day and getting rid of things I don’t use anymore, like old shirts, a CD player, and my right to an opinion (because I’m married).

Then, at the bottom of a large box, I came across a small, folded rug from my childhood. It truly is a mysterious carpet that defies explanation. Speaking of fascinating carpets, you wouldn’t believe how hairy my neighbor’s back is. Whenever I see my neighbor mowing the lawn without a shirt on, I think, “Wow. She’s very comfortable in public.”

Anyway, when I was a little boy, my mother made a hook rug. It's mostly beige, with a multicolored border. In one corner she inscribed a catchphrase I used to say all the time when I was about three years old. The mystery is that no one, including myself, knows what I meant by it.

Be a biber.

It's anybody's guess what I was trying to say. My mother recalls that exchanges with me frequently went something like this:

"Sweetie, would you like a cookie?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I be a biber."

"What's a biber?"

"I be a biber."

Or:

"Honey, let's put your rubber boots on. It's raining outside."

"No, mommy."

"Why not."

"'Cause I be a biber."

And so on. Mom would try to get me to clarify what I meant, but I refused to give an explanation. And, since I was only three years old, waterboarding was out of the question.

Jesus used to say things that made about as much sense to his listeners as "Be a biber." In his case, he had to transmit divine truths through human words, and the end results were often bewildering. Sometimes even funny. I can imagine his first attempt to teach the parable of the mustard seed.

"The kingdom of heaven," declared Jesus to the crowd, "is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in the garden. It grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches. Do you understand?"

A guy spoke up. "You're saying there are birds in heaven? I don't like birds! One dropped a mess on my shoulder the other day. Are there slingshots in heaven? And if I kill a bird in heaven, what happens to it?"

"Well,” said Jesus, “there are birds in heaven, but that's not what I'm--"

"No, no, you fool!” hollered another guy to the first guy. “ Jesus is saying that there's mustard in heaven! Heaven is a land of milk and honey mustard!"

Jesus gave a patient smile. "Let me explain. Heaven is like a mustard seed. Do you know what an analogy is?"

"Yep!” said a third guy. “I have an analogy to pollen and dust."

"Okay, forget the mustard seed." Jesus thought for a long while, then spoke again. "Heaven is a happy place."

"Hurraaaaaay!!!" shouted the people.

"Whatever," said Jesus.

Or one time, as recorded in John's gospel, Jesus was preaching and a message was brought to him by his disciples. "Lord, some Greeks are in town and would like to meet with you. What shall we tell them?" This was Jesus' answer: "Very truly, I say unto you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit."

I imagine the disciples scratching their heads. "Uhhhh ... So, is that a yes or a no?"

Whether or not Jesus' followers understood all his parables, they were bound by discipleship to dig deep into them for truth. Jesus taught that, through faith and obedience, the Spirit would eventually reveal his teachings’ transformative power.

Just as my mother lovingly worked my perplexing phrase into the rug, so it is that God asks us to cherish and preserve his words even when they don’t make sense to us. “Keep my commands and you will live; guard my teachings as the apple of your eye… write them on the tablet of your heart” (Proverbs 7: 2-3).

On the surface, Jesus’ words often make little sense to his hearers: “Lose your life to save it” … “Humble yourself to become great” … “Love your enemies” … And yet when we “write” those words on our hearts and put them into practice, we sooner or later discover the profound truth of them, and experience the spiritual fruit that grows as a result. Jesus’ most baffling statements and commands begin to make sense only when we live them out.

All of this I’d explain in more detail but … well, y’know … I be a biber.