THE TRIAL chapter 99

In Sunday school, we had been discussing what constituted being a Christian and could one person really know if another was a Christian. Since belief is a matter of the heart, what could one person know of someone else’s heart? We had gone through  “by their fruits you can know them,” and had asked can those fruits be faked? It was a hot topic and we were already in our third or fourth week of yakking. I loved what was happening. There was meaningful conversation about what it means to believe.

OK, I need to apologize here. I never did follow the curriculum and never told anyone I was not following the book. If something took more than a week, I went with it and kept it going until it was exhausted. I was somewhat concerned about this and had no idea what I would say if confronted.

The adult’s working with me in Sunday school at that time were Betty, a nurse, Dr. Hindmarsh, our doctor, and Wes, a law student at the university of Saskatchewan. We debated putting someone on trial for his or her faith. We all agreed it would be very difficult. We batted around the pros and cons. What if the outcome was — you cannot know. We knocked that around a bit and decided that was not the worst thing that could happen. But was it worth the chance and how would it be done? Also, who should be put on trial?

We considered the logistics and possible consequences. Wes knew the law best and was asked to be the judge and keep things moving in the right direction — whatever that was going to be. Wes would be available to both sides for consultation. We picked a core group of teens for both the prosecution and defense. Holden Bowker was chosen to lead the prosecution. He made me nervous. He is extremely bright and determined to win at all costs. We gave him a team of three others. Rich Hindmarsh, the doc’s son, and no intellectual slouch either. He led the four-member defense team. We were still debating who would be on trial but decided to talk to the prosecution and defense teams and kick around names about who should be tried. Everyone wanted the pastor, but it would mean he had to be there every Sunday and with other responsibilities, that was impossible (also, potentially dangerous). A few elder’s names also popped up. Most of this was beating around the bush. Many really wanted me. I made it simple. I volunteered

We presented the plan to the class the following Sunday and gave the rest of the class an opportunity to join either side than gave the rest of the class time to the sides to begin preparing their cases. We used another few classes to let the teams work. Both sides were asked to use Scripture liberally.

I, of course, was a nervous wreck. I was being a pretty good guy at the time, but there were enough things in my past to embarrass me and nail me to the floor. I did not tell them anything was off limits. I did ask that they be gentle. My best hope was that they knew very little about my past. I hoped and prayed they did not know about my college problems.

On the Sunday the trial was to begin, we had set the room up to look like a courtroom. The rectangular space was used lengthwise. We had a raised platform with an imposing wooden desk for the judge. A witness chair was on a slightly lower level. Both had microphones in place. One corner sported the Canadian flag. A student court reporter was seated at a small desk in front of the judge. She took notes, supposedly. The bailiff dressed in his full Christian Service Brigade uniform with all his medals and badges said, “Court is now in session.” He also swore in the witnesses. The bailiff asked the court to rise and introduced Wes as the judge. He entered wearing a black robe and a white wig. He looked great. After being seated the judge slammed his desk with the gavel and asked the bailiff to call the cases for the day. The bailiff presented a very legal description of the case and the judge addressed the jury (class) giving them clear instructions as to their responsibility.

The room was packed. Best attendance of the year. On the first Sunday each side presented their case, what they intended to prove and how they were going to do it. The judge instructed the class that they would all be the jury and asked to make a decision at the end of the trial. Unlike most trails, they were encouraged to talk about it all they wanted and even give ideas and suggestions to either side.

During the week each team met with an adult and laid out their plans. The adults were asked to keep them on track, but not to tell them what to do.

I believe Holden took two weeks to present his case. He was too good. I should have been hauled off to sinner jail immediately. Yes, I was sweating. Did he even like me? He was brutal. He called witnesses that had seen me mess up.

Guests began coming to class. Parents, Elders, Governing Board members — even the pastor showed up secretly hoping my lawyers could prove I was a Christian. I wondered if I would lose my job if convicted.

Rick was equally competent as my counsel. He also used a couple of weeks and the class was getting crowded. My wife became my best witness. I expected the CBC and CTV to be waiting outside to rush the lawyers demanding to know the outcome. They were never there. What a disappointment. We could have been the lead story on the news.

The last week was rebuttals and the jury broke into small groups to deliberate. The judge had to rush them at the end so we could finish and get to church. Each group presented their decision on a ballot and the bailiff took the votes to the judge to read the judgment.