Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

One of the few mementoes I have from my childhood is my gold pin representing 5 years of perfect attendance  at our Lutheran Sunday School–I believe from age 2 through 7, or thereabouts.  At some point early on, I remember having a Sunday School teacher that seemed so warm and friendly.  I guess I thought I could trust her.  I remember speaking up to ask her of a bible story, “But how do we know that really happened?”  To which she replied, “Because The Bible tells us so.”  Eyebrows furrowed, I even asked again, “But it was so long ago, how do we really know?”  This time she was clearly agitated because she got that stone face as she reiterated with a frozen jaw “Because The Bible tells us so!”  That angry look had a chilling effect.

It was just like at home.  I should have known not to ask questions.  Asking questions made people mad.  Even as a small child I guess I understood the response of anger was caused by frustration over not being able to put into words what they didn’t know or didn’t understand or what they didn’t want to feel.

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