Out Our Way: Goliath's Gospel: Mama and the three bears

When the crowd had left and Jesus was alone with his disciples and those who were closest to Him, they asked why he spoke in parables, He said, “Only those who are willing to receive the knowledge of God will understand what I say. To those who remain aloof and distant, they will only hear parables and yet not understand them, for if they did they would return to God, change their ways and be saved. (A paraphrase of Mark 4:10-1)

Out our way, we sometimes hear of folks being attacked by mountain lions or chewed up by grizzly bears, or gored by bison. Usually these folks are not native to the area — often tourists — but clearly ignorant of the realities of nature.

Years ago, I served a summer in the Shenandoah National Park in Virginia as part of the Ministry in the National Parks program. I lived in a small cabin on a ridge called Matthew’s Arm and clerked in the store there when I wasn’t being a camp chaplain to hikers and vacationers on the Appalachian Trail.

I recall one day a lady from New York came up and asked, “What time do you let the bears out?” In all seriousness, she thought all the signs on the trail about taking precautions against bear attack, using bear bells, carrying bear spray and not leaving food around the camp site was just for show. Surely, wild animals would not be allowed to simply wander around wild.

Some say ignorance is bliss, but sometimes ignorance is dangerous, and when one consciously chooses to be ignorant, it’s just plain stupid.

Now, up in the Blue Ridge Mountains, there was a bear we called, “Momma,” an old sow bear with three cubs: Winkem, Blinkem and Nod. Momma had had many a scrap with other bears and although small and badly scarred up, she was a tough old gal who had managed to stake out one of the picnic grounds as her domain.

So it happened, at dusk one evening when Momma and the kids were usually most active, they came down to the picnic grounds. Usually the grounds were deserted after dark but there was a couple who had decided they would camp there instead of in the camping areas — and had set up a sumptious feast on one of the picnic tables. There were all sorts of signs warning abut bear activity in the area, cautions about leaving food laying around and signs prohibiting camping in the picnic area. These folks paid no attention,

So it was, at dusk one evening, Momma and the gang came out of the woods and found food scattered all around the grounds, open garbage containers and such, and decided they would have a picnic of their own. Now, I grant you, Momma wasn’t that big of a bear, but she was a bear and she had cubs. Anyone from out our way knows that is a combination you want to give a lot of space to. But not these folks. Momma started going through the garbage and the cubs heading for the food on the table — and these folks thought they would shoo them away.  Momma ground her teeth, but they didn’t understand that — then she reared up on her hind quarters and growled. They didn’t understand that either. Indeed the man of the party, who might have been quite intimidating on a street in Brooklyn, tried to run the bears off. When she didn’t back down, he hit her.

“Bad move, Bix!”

Momma swung one paw, fortunately in a backhand movement, and clouted Mr. New York across the picnic tables — and then went back to feeding. Our urban gent was smart enough to figure out that going one-on-one with a black bear was not overly smart, so he and the missus ran for the car got in and drove to the ranger station to report the “bear attack.”

They loudly demanded the ranger go out and shoot the wild bear at once!

He later told me he was certainly ready to shoot something at that point — but it wasn’t the bear.

Nevertheless, he did his best to placate them, explaining that wild bears are, well, wild. After all, they were the trespassers on the trail, not the bears and, further, they were the ones who done the attacking, not Momma.

But they wouldn’t listen, and threatened to get the ranger fired and the national park closed if they didn’t address “the bear problem.”

I don’t know if they attempted to make good on the threat, but if so, it didn’t go anywhere. As the ranger winked and reminded me later, the park had no “bear problem,” but there was one heck of a problem with stupid people.

Every ranger I have ever met has stories like this or worse, of people who refuse to read the signs or believe the brochures or obey the safety rules posted throughout the habitat. And so people get hurt, gored, mauled, stomped and too often get dead because they won’t use their heads or listen to those who know better.

How do you get across to people who don’t have a clue that nature must be treated with respect and with caution. There are rules and regulations for behavior in the national parks that are not arbitrary, but created to keep idiots like me alive. But as it has been said, “Ain’t no cure for stupid.”

In the text referred to above, the disciples wonderd why Jesus taught in parables, and the answer was that He was trying to teach those who might listen to stories instead of sermons. God hasn’t given up on any of us yet, and there is no one-and-only way of sharing the Gospel. That is why Goliath and I are here — aiming to talk to those who have no use or interest in the church but are yet open to God.

Some will never hear. Some will reject the Gospel no matter what. But good soil that is open and receptive to the seed of God may yet be found in the most unlikely of places. There may yet be small patches of good soil even in the road way, in the shallow ground and in the weed patch that might yet receive the seed and grow. The sower sowed the seed without regard in even the most hopeless of places in the hopes that some would nevertheless find a place to grow and prosper. And so it was that even in the most unexpected places, the good soil was found and the seed took root. He who has ears to hear, let him hear and understand. Amen.

The Rev. John Bruington