Chapter 3: “I’ll Have a Hot Assorted”11
“Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them, And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth me. But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.” Matthew 18:2-6
So on his way Luke went. The next day was an interesting day, perhaps one of those special days the Man of God had referred to, Luke hoped. Because after having wandered through the wilderness for an afternoon and a mostly sleepless night, in the morning he found a highway. And began to walk along it, with his guitar slung across his back, and his Bible in hand. “I thought the man said ‘no burdens’,” realized Luke, who was used to having his hands free. Then he got a great idea, found room for the Bible inside his guitar case, and decided: “That’s better.” He smiled and faced the day, holding only hope, carrying only promises.
Before long, he met three men coming the other way. Seeing in them potential teachers, and being a straightforward fella, Luke figured the best thing to do was to ask. “’Scuse me, fellas. My name is Luke the Hun. I was hoping and wondering whether you might have any wisdom you would care to share with me?”
Now this is not your typical question to be asking strangers, and Luke soon learned that its tendency to provoke a response was about halfway in between “Do you have the time?”, which most people will take the time to answer, and “Can you spare some change?”, for which few people will stop. Doubtless because offering wisdom doesn’t cost anything, but it does take some thought, which lets a few people out.
The first three men Luke stopped were, by strange chance, a Butcher, a Baker, and a Candlestickmaker (purely coincidence, I must insist.) After a startled pause, the Butcher, who was the type to grab the bull by the horns, spoke up first: “Kid, listen, if you wanna enjoy life, the main thing is, you gotta get yerself a good job. Like mine. Something where you can really get into the meat of things, and get your hands messy.” Luke noted the suggestion, but he had already had a job uncomfortably similar to the Butcher’s, so he took the Butcher’s offering with a grain of salt.
Next spoke the Candlestickmaker, with a bad French accent: “Ah, but ze butcher comes home filthy and steenking like a pig. Me, not only do I get to enjoy ze pleasant ah-roma,” (slowly, savoring the very word,) “of candles all day, but zen I can use mah ten pair cent employee dizcount to take pretty candles home for ze pretty damsels. And then...oolala....” he tapered off, burning with wick-edly naughty thoughts, eyes aglow.
Luke was never very patient with those playboy types, so he jeered, “You know what else the girls like? Expensive jewelry. We Huns took a lot of that from you guys last time we raided France.” So that shut him down.
Next up was the Baker, who explained calmly: “As far as the job goes, I make more dough than either of these guys. ‘Aroma’? I come home smelling like cinnamon danishes and hot cross buns, and my wife practically wants to gobble me up. But enjoying your work only gets you so far. My advice to you is, ‘Sunday mornings’.”
Luke wondered what that meant. He vaguely knew that some people went to church on Sundays, so he asked the Baker eagerly if that was what he was talking about, hoping the Baker might take him a little further towards understanding what the man of God had started.
“No,” the Baker replied, “I mean the smell of the donuts coming from the chimney and filling the winter air, and slowly reading the newspaper after you are done baking them, and watching happy neighbors come in and buy them, and just sitting and enjoying the fact that you are done for the week and can relax and let life creep by slowly for a few precious hours. No, not quite church, but the sentiment is the same in this respect: knowing that your whole week has led up to this. Knowing that your loyal service is never in vain, and never without reward.”
“Um, yeah, ditto that,” the Butcher said, changing his answer when he saw Luke furiously scribbling notes. Luke thanked those three for their contributions, and went on.
Shortly before lunch, Luke met three more men coming down the thoroughfare. One had a tin-horned hat and a cape, the next wore a leather jerkin and big stompy boots, and the third sported a shiny breastplate and a long saber. When Luke made his humble request for them to share some advice, the middle one responded with typical fighter’s bravado and eight fingers beckoning: “Make me... Come on!”
Luke accepted the challenge, and after defeating them at wrestling, arm-wrestling, and thumb-wrestling respectively, he was able to jot down the following aphorisms:
From Paul the Gaul: “Love is All.”
Added Mike the Viking: “Love is the truest when it starts as liking.”
Luke was starting to become surprised that these fighters would tell him about love (though who would presume to give a Hun tips on fighting?), when the episode was brought back to earth by the shoot-from-the-stomach drawl of Pete the Geat: “Love is aaaw, right aaah, guess; but aaah, druther haaave, somethin’ ta eat!” This prompted congratulations and claps on the back from his two peers, who felt redeemed, and the three continued cheerily on their way.
In the early afternoon, under warm summery skies, Luke stopped to join a young man who was having lunch at a picnic table beside the trail. After talking for a bit, Luke was pleased to discover that this was none other than that renowned warrior, Raymond of Corbeil!
The valiant men of Corbeil, by way of explanation, were the only nation ever to convincingly repel the assaults of the Huns. Every fifth year, the Huns raided to the west, through the tiny Kingdom of Camlachie, the jostling twin cities of Matstimander and Markwart, the People’s Republic of Wabash, and the Serbian Protectorate of Chickakookacowamaugamungabunga: where there was seldom anything very valuable to take, but at least the Huns had fun throwing rocks through their windows. (The state motto there was the high-pitched, plaintive, “Cut it out!”--much like Massachusetts.) Every fifth year they attacked to the south, through the Empire of Peru, the tempting Queendom of Pellylara, an Earldom, a Churldom, and the Commonwealth of Kentucky. Two years in every five they would thrust eastward into France (it was just such easy pickings, and with such lovely pastries, how could they resist?) And every fifth year the Huns would stream north, sacking the city-states of Aubretia and Aubergine, Delmara and Whitebread; then always somehow missing their most-anticipated target, the wealthy city of Circumventia, and once past it, scratching their heads wondering whether it was protected by some strangely curved magic, or just by poor Hun map-reading skills. Then, with a shrug, it was always on to Corbeil, where they had once been fought to a standstill for three hours in the legendary Battle of Osborne Field, after which time both sides, out of mutual respect, had lain down their weapons so that no one would get hurt, and proceeded to square off just for fun in an old-fashioned bare-knuckle donnybrook followed by a light buffet lunch--which had now become the tradition, with both sides saving face by the Huns considering the free meal their “tribute”, and the men of Corbeil calling it “hospitality”.
So of course, like an old friend, Ray shared half his submarine sandwich (a Hot Assorted), and gave Luke his pick of the apple and the brownie (apple), and even let Luke open the fortune cookie, which promised: “A difficult journey will be rewarded at the end.” They all say stuff like that, Luke told himself, but he took it as a good sign nevertheless.
“Thanks, Brother Ray,” said Luke. “Now, if you have not yet tired of assisting me, my situation is this: I seek to gather truth and wisdom, so that I may figure out how to live a fulfilled and happy life.”
“Ah, the end is insight,” quipped Ray.
“No, actually I’m just beginning,” Luke deadpanned, deliberately overlooking the pun.
; Ray thoughtfully told Luke some stories of when he had been in trouble, and had done the right thing, in order to prove his lesson: “As I see it, the easiest way to smooth through life is to stay out of trouble. And the best way to stay out of trouble is to admit your mistakes, and stand up and take responsibility when you have done something wrong.” Luke stopped him there for a second, just to make sure he heard that part right, coz some people might think the best way to stay out of trouble is to lay low and hope no one finds out what you did. But Ray insisted, “Ironically, you get in less trouble when you turn yourself in--because everyone makes mistakes, and no one can blame you too much for being human. But the moment you cover it up, lie about what happened, what-have-you, then it becomes a deliberate act, and your guilt increases exponentially. Not to mention the disrespect that deception shows...”
This reminded Luke that the same scenario had happened to his own brother, the mighty warrior DavidGorki. As youths, Luke had been absolutely petrified of their father Chief Otis, and hence afraid to tell a lie when the Chief asked what they had been up to. His younger brother, however, had been just as petrified of their father, and hence afraid to admit to anything that would get him a hiding! Since they were usually into mischief together, it played out predictably: DavidGorki would lie about it, Luke would have to confess, and Luke would be beaten with few stripes, and his brother with many. The audacity of anyone lying to his face absolutely infuriated Chief Otis.
One might have thought that after a few such incidents, DavidGorki would have learned that ‘crime doesn’t pay’, and not to try to evade. Instead, being a Hun, the lesson he learned from it first was: “Hey, I am pretty tough. I can take a lot of punishment and not get hurt.” Luke remembered well his surprise the first time his younger brother had challenged him during a quarrel, saying, “I’ve had some of Dad’s beatings, you think I’m going to be afraid of yours?”
In other words, while Luke had been developing strength of character (um, kind of), DavidGorki had just been developing strength. In Hun-Country, the one gets you further than the other.
But instead of pointing out this anomaly to Ray, Luke thanked him for what was for the most part a valuable principle. Then he went so far as to inquire, based on his preliminary investigation of the Bible, and the discussion with the Man of God, “Is that what repentance is about then? God understanding our mistakes?” Ray wasn’t sure if he was qualified to testify about that, but he said it seemed like the theme might apply. They both resolved to give it more thought, shook hands, and said they would look forward to seeing each other again in five years.
In the middle of a stretched-out-forever afternoon, Luke made the acquaintance of a Beaver named Miskokomon, gathering sticks in the forest by the roadside. Not knowing whether to expect an answer, Luke posed his question, and was a little startled to receive what seemed to be a telepathic response, as the beaver shared some of his immense store of experience:
“If ever you clash with a Wolf named Menudo,
Just give him a headfake and defeat him with judo.
If you follow that advice you can’t go wrong.
Now I’ve got to be going. So there. So long.”
And with that the Beaver was gone.
Amazingly enough, that very same day not many miles later, Luke did in fact meet a Wolf named Menudo, and he did in fact give him a headfake and defeat him with judo. Cha-cha-cha.
Farther along the road, further along in the day, Luke passed through a village, and saw a kindhearted and generous woman tending her beautiful garden. When he asked her opinion, she offered the observation: “Things grow, and things die. It is better to help them grow.” And resumed her work, singing.
Just as dusk began to fall on the still-warm world, Luke the Hun met a Barracuda named Moriarty in a shallow green bay, who when asked responded: “You want to know a helpful hint? When they told you ‘Don’t go swimming for an hour after you eat’, they said it wrong. It oughta be ‘Don’t go swimming until an hour after I eat.’” (With a slight barracuda-chuckle, mouth full of sharp teeth.) “The sign ‘No Lifeguard, Swim at Own Risk’ still applies, however.”
Luke was curious: “I would think it would be safer for someone to swim just after you had eaten. That way you wouldn’t be hungry anymore.”
The barracuda’s one-word, smile-toothed reply was: “Dessert.”
Luke was still convinced he was on to something, though, so he asked again, “But after an hour, wouldn’t you be getting hungry again, for another meal perhaps?”
Moriarty shrugged his fish-shoulders and said slyly, with the same piercing grin, “Yep.”
Luke, already a little afraid of the water, resolved to be extra careful around it now that he knew the Barracuda’s secret. He hastily waved goodbye to Moriarty, and the Barracuda went back to swimming around looking for something to bite.
After a long day of many meetings, Luke was sitting in the dark, reviewing his notes by candlelight (a free sample, it pays to advertise after all, from the Candlestickmaker.) After reviewing the day’s lessons, Luke was struck by a sudden realization: he only had a few blank pages for notes in his Bible, and he had already almost filled most of one on the first day! Since he didn’t feel that he was that close to finishing his learning process, he decided he would have to do a better job of conserving space, so he adopted a more efficient method of notation: he would choose a single word or two to sum up any particular lesson. Then mark the date and name of the teacher, to aid recollection of each accompanying story or doctrine. Luke had about had his fill of endless note-taking in all those years of college anyway, so this wonderful idea would almost totally free him of that burden, without allowing him to put off his more important responsibilities to think, digest, summarize and select.
Applying this process to the characters he had met so far, he recalled that the Frog had taught him to Look (for a preacherman) and Listen (for a voice.) The best word to sum up what the Man of God had offered him was God. Out of the day’s encounters, he saw fit to add the words Sundays, Honesty (he shied away from Confess), and Grow. He considered Dessert, on behalf of the Barracuda, but shuddered and prudently kept that out.
While thus adjusting his notes, Luke was alarmed by a sound, and realized there was someone coming rapidly down the road. Though it was likely too late to escape, he blew out his candle and slipped into the forest, to better observe the approaching threat.
Turns out it wasn’t a threat at all, just a bald guy in dirty clothes, hurrying home from working the afternoon shift. Luke decided it was better to announce his presence loudly, and give the man a little start, before the man got right up to him and discovered him hiding there anyway, and then had a heart attack or something. (He looked kinda huffenpuffery)12.
The startled bald man caught his breath, as Luke observed: “You were hurrying. Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no no,” said the man, regaining his composure, and his breath. “Just trying to get home to see my wife and daughter. She’s 2. I like to see her before she goes to bed. I mean, she’s cute when she is sleeping, but it’s not quite the same; I would feel like I missed something, like another day of her youth had passed by without me,” The man got a little sad at the thought, and made as if he should hurry on.
But Luke was interested, and asked for just a minute more. “You love your child very much, don’t you?” he perceived, from the way the man went on.
“You should meet her,” the bald man said wistfully, then chuckled at an amusing memory, and wondered. “Do you have any children?”
“Not yet,” said Luke, for whom they were barely a distant thought.
“It changes you,” the man couldn’t help sharing. “Makes you a better person, in some ways. Definitely it’s a responsibility, but is that a bad quality to learn? Softens your heart is the main thing though--I’m not as good a lacrosse player as when I was single and could be a tough guy, but that’s a small loss compared to all the Love I’ve gained! There is such a thing
as being too tough--if you make yourself hard, the world bounces off of you. How much more you can experience if you soften up and let life sink in! There’s a Bible verse,” he volunteered unprompted, “that says ‘a woman shall be saved through childbearing’, and some people might think that’s sexist, that it means women are just for making babies or something, but that’s not it at all! Absolutely women are saved through childbearing, but their men are saved through it too! When you see that child, so young, so innocent, so delicate? It changes you. Makes you do the right thing, do the selfless thing more often, so that tender one will be happy and safe. And it absolutely and irresistibly fills your heart with love! If that’s not a step towards being saved, I don’t know what would be.” The man was beginning to get the start of tears in the corners, though it was from sentiment, not sadness, Luke could tell.
After a pause, the man continued, hesitantly, “I wrote a poem about her, about my daughter that is. Would you like to hear it?”
Luke never liked that question, coz you never know if what comes next will be a good, wily poem, or a bad, saccharine one, but in this case it didn’t even seem to matter--there was such a sincerity there that Luke sensed that there would be a goodness in the poem coming from the emotion at least, if not from the words. He motioned to the man to proceed, and he did so.
“She has come from God to be our guide
in the paths of love and streams of wonder.
Maps of the heavens shine in her eyes,
and she boasts of shortcuts with her laugh.
She has come from Christ to be our courage
through streets of grief and cities of madness.
The darkness flies from the flash of her smile,
and the monsters run from her roar.
She has come from heaven to be our hope,
in days of joy and hours of plenty.
She shows us miracles in trees and stones,
and talks of Truth in simple words.
She has come from the Lord to share our lives,
through the long months, and the weary years.
Time goes racing when she runs,
and she lifts the pressing skies as she grows.”
The man smiled with tears in his eyes, thinking about her, and was about to hurry off, when he decided to add one more equation: “I know that God forgives me, because Jobi forgives me.” The bald man laughed, “I don’t know if that passes as theology, but I guess it’s kind of a corollary of sorts. ‘If a man does not love his brother, whom he has seen, how can he love God, whom he has not seen?’ Well, God is greater than any of us. So if a man can love his brother, of course God can love that brother! If we forgive each other, we know that He also must be able to forgive us! After all, ‘we love because God first loved us’. So it happens that, whenever my daughter forgives me for scolding her, or correcting her, or denying her candy, or even for going away to work, things that must seem to her to be grievous sins, and yet her love always remains, never dims, always forgives, I understand the way that God forgives us! And every time she hugs me, I totally and completely am sure that God loves me and I am saved!” Then he added humbly, “For what it’s worth. Bye now,” and ran along.
Luke wrote in his Bible, ‘Children’. And then, partly because he was moved by the man’s experiences, but mostly recalling his own bitter memories, and a certain tragic event involving a two-year old child, Luke sat down and cupped his hands over his head, and rocked in the darkness, and sobbed, and keened, and wept for a sin that could never be cleansed.