The Great Thirst Part One: Prepared

by Mary C. Findley

  Chapter Eighteen – “Are You So Selfish?”

  “Ms. Ramin, Mr. Bradley, can I see you in the teachers' lounge?”

  Keith cringed. Why was his dad poking his head in their classroom? Talia called out the reading assignment and the students bent over their Bibles and notebooks.

  Keith and Talia joined his dad in the hall. Mrs. Farris slipped into the Bible as Literature classroom to monitor and Principal Bradley led them to the teachers’ lounge. A strange woman sat at the table.

  “I’m sorry I had to interrupt that lively discussion you were having,” Principal Bradley said, “but this is Doctor Williams from the State Education Department.”

  Doctor Williams looked over her half-glasses at them. “We just got word that your Bible as Literature class has been approved for a cutting edge study of electronic media development. We are hoping it will provide a model that will revolutionize education. We wanted you to be fast-tracked into the Bible Conversion Project.”

  “What’s the Bible Conversion Project?” Talia asked. “We’re already filing the weekly reports on what we teach, and the students are uploading their assignments. I thought that was all we needed to fulfill the requirements.”

  “All your records are in excellent condition,” Doctor Williams said. “As far as they go. That’s why you were chosen for the next phase,” Doctor Williams said. “Because you’ve made excellent progress, but you’re not yet fully compliant. Even in this digital age, so many people still study physical, print Bibles, underline verses and commentary, and make notes in the margins. They write longhand in notebooks or on cards. We need a virtual record of these physical studies. We need scans of everything – from the originals.”

  “What?” Keith jumped up. “What are you saying? We’re supposed to take the kids’ Bibles away from them? Their prayer journals? Their memory cards?”

  “There’s no need to be defensive.” Doctor Williams glared up at him. “Please be seated. No one is taking anything away, just borrowing the items to get them scanned. We will bring equipment here to the school and do it on the premises. Everything will be returned the same day.

  “We want materials from everyone in the community. Parents, grandparents, clergymen – Anyone who studies the Bible. Don’t you see? To get a complete picture of a student's study, we need more than just the class assignments. The archives should include everything that inspired them, and a record of the further thought and study their assignments inspired. This will become a resource people all over the world can use, for all time. Mr. Bradley, your prayers, your thoughts, your study of the Bible could teach someone in Thailand, Mali, Alaska – someone in a spaceship traveling to Mars – these insights will become eternal.

  “In return, we are going to help bring everyone into the digital age. We will give each participant a very simple-to-use tablet with a permanent link to the Bible Repository website. Just as soon as everything goes live they will be able to access all the work everyone has done to enrich the corpus. You will get back much more than you give.”

  “But it’s voluntary, right?” Talia asked. “People don’t have to give us their Bibles, do they?”

  “This program fails if it doesn’t accomplish the critical goal of gathering all the possible data,” Doctor Williams insisted. “So far, you have only given us what students felt they had to turn in to meet assignment requirements. We have no picture of the surrounding faith journey. It must be fully inclusive to succeed. How can we say that only fifty percent, or seventy-five percent, or even ninety-eight percent of people’s Bible study information gives a complete picture of this vital topic?”

  “What exactly do you mean by ‘this program fails’?” Keith’s dad demanded.

  “It doesn’t fulfill the requirements,” Doctor Williams said. “It doesn’t qualify for the grants.”

  “You mean additional grants,” Keith prompted.

  “No, I mean any grants,” Doctor Williams responded.

  “You mean we lose everything we’ve gotten from implementing the Bible as Literature program?” Principal Bradley choked.

  “It’s clearly stated in the contract you signed that this is a graduated program, consisting of steps that must be followed. The program itself is voluntary, but you agreed to provide information – complete information. There’s nothing scary or unreasonable being asked for here. Are your Bible studies secret? We aren’t even asking to spy on them or listen in to your private reflections. We just want you to share what is written down on paper. Why does the idea of sharing them with the world disturb you? Are you that selfish?”

  “We need some time to discuss this … maybe to sound out the parents and others who would be affected,” Principal Bradley said. “I'm wondering if we should consult the school's attorney.”

  “Consult whoever you like. You will learn two things: One: There is no scary government plan to burn your Bibles. Two: No one forced you into this program, but you did sign a contract to which you are legally bound. I suppose we can give you until a week from Monday.” Doctor Williams stood up. “I’ll return at ten AM on that date, bring the scanning equipment, and hear your decision. If you withdraw from the program, the funds will need to be returned within ten days.” She snapped her briefcase shut and marched out of the room.

  “But Keith, Mr. Bradley,” Talia protested, “she promised they would scan everything right here and then give it all back. Nobody’s confiscating anything, are they? We just bring them to the school, and while the scanning’s being done, we watch them like hawks. It’ll be fine.”

  “I suppose that’s true.” Mr. Bradley locked eyes with his son. “Do we have a choice? Luckily it’s only the families of the students in your class and maybe a couple of pastors. Shouldn't be too much to collect, right?”

  “I would have agreed when we started the class,” Keith said. He couldn't believe what he was about to say scared and depressed him. “But Dad, you already know kids have gotten saved in the class. They’ve taken their studies home and witnessed to their parents – their brothers and sisters.”

  “It’s been like a mini-revival, or Great Awakening.” Talia nodded. “We have people dusting off Bibles they haven’t touched since they got out of the military, that they got as high school graduation presents – We never figured on this being such a fruitful outreach.”

  “You’re saying we’d have to collect a lot of Bibles and a lot of notes,” Principal Bradley sighed. “And I’d have to face my own mother and ask her to give up her Bible. She’s still got my father’s, too.”

  “Grandma?” Keith said. “No way. I can imagine what she’ll say about all this.”

  “Are you crazy?” Talia cried. “This is not that big of a deal. No one’s giving up anything.”

  “Today is Friday,” Mr. Bradley sighed. “I’ll send out letters with the students today, and explain that this is very time sensitive. Realistically I don’t know if we can make this happen by a week from Monday morning. And I’ll talk to your grandmother, Keith. Maybe it would be good if you talked to her too.”

  Keith and Talia stood together at the buses, handing out the hastily-produced information sheets about the Bible Conversion Project. They had crammed from the website where they had been uploading the Bible as Literature classwork, and had found descriptions of the wireless devices that would connect to the site and access all the materials. They had made sure to include that in the information sheet. The kids seemed positively giddy about the news.

  “Ms. Ramin, we should totally do this.” Jayna came up behind them. She blew on her hands as they watched the kids file into the buses.

  “But Jayna, remember how we talked about times when the governments took people’s Bibles away?” Keith argued. “All over the world people’s Bibles have been collected by governments and burned.”

  “This isn’t the same thing,” Tom insisted. “They’re giving us a way to share what we’ve learned with everybody. Everybody in the whole world. It’s a good thing.
I know it is.”

  “So you both will give up your Bibles? You’ll ask your families to do it too?” Keith could see the relief on Talia's face.

  “I totally will,” Jayna said. “I peeked at the website you linked to in the letter. They’re saying the stuff I underline and my notes are just as important as fancy commentaries and famous preachers. They want everybody’s ideas and thoughts that they write in their Bibles. Won’t it be cool? I could help some sister a thousand years from now understand the Bible better!”

  “Besides, what’s the big deal about the paper Bibles?” Tom asked. “Every kind of Bible’s online, right? And everything we did with ours will be right there online too. Plus we get those cool tablets.”

  Talia looked up at Keith. Everyone shivered as another icy blast blew through the bus parking lot.

  “Mr. Bradley, are you going to ask your grandmother about letting them scan her Bible?” Jayna demanded. “What do you think she’ll say?”

  “I … I’m going over after school to ask her.” Keith looked across the street. “I’m not sure yet what she’s gonna say, though.”

  “Jayna, go get on the bus. I can’t drive you home again,” Talia ordered.

  “You tell her it’s a good thing!” Jayna ran a few steps toward her bus but turned back. “This is a good thing, Mr. Bradley. This is gonna make history! You tell her not to be old-fashioned.”