Sunday School Stories

When I arrived to pick up Bug from Sunday School a few weeks ago, the students were sitting in a circle discussing the harvest festival of Sukkot. The teacher went around the group, asking all the kids to name their favorite fruit or vegetable. Here in the land of Whole Foods Organic Market, the pre-schoolers all named things like Fuji apples, Japanese pears, and heirloom tomatoes. I wasn't even sure if Bug would be able to respond, as his verbal skills are just emerging, so I was prepared to prompt him to say "banana" or "melon," two items that regularly appear in his lunch box. But he spoke up clear as day, announcing to those assembled that his favorite snack was "fruit roll-ups and coffee." I immediately clapped my hand over his mouth as I sheepishly explained to the others that, no, I don't actually serve him coffee - though the fact that I was tightly clutching a steaming commuter mug at that moment probably didn't help my case. (I didn't mention the fruit roll-ups, since I am guilty as charged). Bug found this hilarious, and continued to shout "fruit roll-ups and coffee!", slapping his hand to his mouth and convulsing with laughter. This is probably why they haven't tapped me to be in charge of class refreshments.

Yesterday Bug's grandpa drove him home from Sunday School, as I was busy hosting the mother/daughter book club. When they arrived at my house, my dad told this story: The class is now learning about tzedakah, the Jewish committment to helping others. The pupils have all made brightly decorated boxes to which they add a few pennies each week. During circle time, the teacher asked them to consider some of the different things they could do with the money they are collecting. One of her ideas was to donate it to families who are homeless.

"Did you know that some boys and girls don't have houses to live in or beds of their own to sleep in?" she asked. At this, one of the little boys burst into tears.

Awwwwww, said all the women in my book group. How sweet and how sensitive this child was, so personally moved by the plight of homeless children.

But no, said my dad.

Through his tears, the boy explained: "I don't want to give away my pennies!"