Back in
September of 1984, when I was six years old, I was promoted. I became a member of the Junior Department
here at Saint John’s Church, which for over half a century was known to
everyone just as “Mrs. Truax’s class.” I
can still remember those first few weeks. We read through, of all things, the
Book of Esther. The Sunday School
superintendent had presented to me with a brand new black King James Bible on
Rally Day, the Sunday before. I was very proud of myself for being able to keep
up with all the sixth graders in the class, piecing together all the words.
And then, a
few weeks later, the Junior Department changed dramatically. All those sixth graders were confirmed, and
moved on into another class, taught by someone else over on the other side of
the Fellowship Hall. I was the only one
left. Now by the rules we follow in most
parts of life, that should have been the end of the Junior Department. You just don’t prepare a Sunday School lesson
each week for one six year old boy.
But Mrs.
Truax did.
Every Sunday, through most of
my elementary school years, she taught a class of one. And she taught me with all the skill she had:
a different story each week, Bible memorization games, paintings and maps. We sang and drew pictures and once made a terrarium
in a Sanka can. It was a real class,
usually the high point of my week. It
opened to me the world of the Bible and the truths of the Christian faith that
remain at the center of my life and my vocation.
She also trained me to serve as Saint
John’s only acolyte for the same number of years, and then gave me a place to
sit beside her—right here on the front row.
If I’m honest, I don’t remember too many sermons from those days. What I remember is the Lord’s Prayer, the
Gloria Patri, and the verses of all those hymns we sang. I remember her mother who sat with us every
week, the very distinguished Mrs. Weller, who wore hats covered in black
netting and brandished a lacquered cane, carved with serpents. And I remember thinking just how important a
job being an acolyte must be. I knew it
brought such joy to Mrs. Truax to have me beside her, so surely, I thought, it must
give glory to God as well.
Today, we
give thanks to God for a woman who devoted her life to Christian
Education. And as someone who also had a
distinguished career as an elementary school teacher, Mrs. Truax would be one
of the first to tell us that to teach and learn the Christian faith is a
distinct process, a special kind of education.
Christian Education is about stories and places and ideas to be
sure—things to fill the mind. But it’s
also about opening the soul, nurturing the spiritual impulses that sometimes
rise up so strongly in the very young.
It’s about helping the young to find a valued and respected place in the
life of the congregation. The gifted Christian
teacher, especially the teacher of children, is more a guide and a host than a
lecturer, holding wide the door to life with God and beckoning the child to
step closer to the light.
When Jesus
parted the huddle of disciples and led a little boy into their midst in the
story I just read to you, he was challenging them to honor and respect
children. He called them to value
children because they were humble, instead of despising them for their
weakness, as was widespread in ancient culture.
And Jesus also commanded them, and all others who would be His
followers, to welcome children, to receive them graciously, with sincere
love. In terms that He would also use to
describe the hungry and the thirsty, the sick and the imprisoned, Jesus told
His disciples to receive children as if they were receiving Him. You will find me in them, He was saying; so
you must love them for my sake.
Above all, I
think, that’s how Mrs. Truax taught us, we hundreds, maybe thousands of her
students. She loved us so deeply. She loved me enough to prepare that lesson
every week, to train me to serve as an acolyte, to form me in the disciplines
of study, prayer and common worship that have shaped my life profoundly ever
since. She loved us enough not to quit
when she was already tired and in pain, when her efforts were ignored, when she
was misunderstood.
She wasn’t
just loving us for our own sake. She was
finding Christ in us, and sharing with us that supernatural love that only He
can give. Mrs. Truax cared for us as
she cared for the Lord who had redeemed her and was her constant companion
through all the joys and struggles of life.
Children, I know, can sometimes be very charming, and the stories of the
Gospel are compelling. But you can only
go back to eight year olds with the Good Samaritan every October for fifty four
years because something—no, Someone-- even more joyful and profound is drawing
you to back to the classroom. Mrs. Truax
loved the Bible, to be sure, and teaching was in her bones, as natural as
breathing to her. But I think it was
seeking Christ and finding him every year in those ordinary kids, that was what
really brought this extraordinary calling to life.
It goes
without saying that we aren’t likely to see another one like her soon. Volunteers just don’t sign up for 54 year
stints, 52 weeks a year. It was a such a
beautiful and important thing to name the Christian Education annex here after
her as a sign of just how completely she gave herself to that ministry. Christian Education remains one of the great
gifts that this congregation offers to the world. And if you trace back the story of Vacation
Bible School here, or the Alive Program, you’ll find Mrs. Truax at the heart of
the thing, full of wisdom and encouragement, committing herself completely to
serving the children of God.
It’s been the curse of most Sunday
School teachers I have worked with as a professional minister that in the back
of my mind, I’m always comparing them to Mrs. Truax. In the parish where I now serve, the Sunday
School coordinator was fretting to me the other day that she only has two
teachers for the high school class, which means they will each need to teach at
least twice each month during the school
year. “This is the third year for those
teachers,” she noted with a furrowed brow, “do you think they’ll burn
out?” Not if they’re really called to
this, I told her. They’ll find the
strength they need. Think of Mrs. Truax,
I thought. Jesus will meet them in the
children, and in the love they share, He will fill them with joy, and help them
all to grow closer to Himself.
Today, we
send Mrs. Truax on, in part, to rest, something she never found so easy in this
life. But even more, we send her on to
share in the Lord’s joy and peace, to see more clearly the fullness of His
grace, and to receive her long-promised crown.
She sought Him for years among us, her students, and surely she found
him from time to time—I suspect in the unlikeliest of places. Now she will see Him face to face, and share
in His love with all who have taught and all who learned His way.
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