Matthew and the Stone

by Bob Blanton

  “Now why do you smile that way every time you say my name?”

  “What way?” Matthew played dumb.

  “You know that inside joke kind of way. You wouldn’t be wondering whether I would be better suited to be Bishop Bishop, now would you?”

  “Well, it did cross my mind. I don’t mean any disrespect by it.” Matthew relaxed and sat back in the chair.

  “I’m sure you don’t. I’ve read Catch 22 and so have several others of my parishioners, so you’re not the first person to make that connection.”

  “I guess not.”

  “But it’s not to be. See we don’t have bishops in this church.” The reverend paused and took a sip of water. “And it wouldn’t really be right, since I’m just Jonathan David Bishop; that’s not the same as Major Major Major Major.”

  “Did your parents think about you being a minister?”

  “No, thankfully, they didn’t. So it wouldn’t be a fitting tribute to the name thing anyway. Now I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to tease me about my name.”

  “No, actually I’ve done something wrong, but I’m not sure why it’s so wrong. I was just trying to help our family and I messed it all up. Mom says I have to give the money away, so I decided I want to give it to the church,” Matthew finally took a breath.

  “Now slow down, I’m sure the church would be happy to accept your donation. Now why don’t you start from the beginning?”

  “Well, I had some money to invest in the stock market. I got this tip about a company that was looking to buy out another company. So I looked everything up on the Internet and put a stock play on the four contenders,” Matthew paused.

  “Now that doesn’t sound so bad. Where did it go wrong?”

  “Well I tried to find out more information so I could guess which one the big company would decide to buy. That way I could shift the money over.”

  “Go on.”

  “So I have this way of getting inside the companies’ board meetings.” Matthew wondered how much to explain to Reverend Bishop about his virtual camera.

  “Like hacking into their computers?”

  “Not exactly, but kind of like that,” Matthew hoped his response would be sufficiently honest that it wouldn’t be like lying to the reverend.

  “Okay, that’ll do for now.” The reverend didn’t want to push Matthew on exactly how he’d obtained the information.

  “So, I was able to figure out that one of the companies was having problems and that their stock would likely tank. I mean take a sharp drop in value.”

  “I understood what you meant by tank,” the reverend smiled at Matthew. “Now go on.”

  “Anyway, I sold the options and bought puts on the company. Puts let you make money if the stock tanks,” Matthew paused to see if Reverend Bishop understood.

  “I’m with you so far; go on.” The reverend gave Matthew a nod.

  “Well, then I checked out the board meeting for the other companies and found out how they stood. Then I changed my investment around.”

  “You sold your options on the weak ones and bought on the strong ones.”

  “Right, and after I checked out the big company, I was able to find out which company they had decided to buy and make a real killing.”

  “I see.” The reverend scratched his chin.

  “See, I didn’t steal anything,” Matthew pleaded. “Not really,”

  “I’m sure there are lots of people that would consider what you did just par for the course,” the reverend said, “a good investment strategy.”

  “Right,” Matthew said brightening up.

  “But you obtained information not readily available to the public and used it to guide your investments,” the reverend said. “That’s called insider trading.”

  Matthew’s mood fell, “I guess so.”

  “And obtaining the information without the knowledge or consent of the companies is probably illegal, too. It is definitely unethical.” Reverend Bishop talked in a calm relaxed tone; his fingers pressed to his chin.

  Matthew just looked down.

  “Now I’m sure your mom would like you to have better strength of character than to engage in unethical activities.”

  “But I didn’t really do anything illegal. I just kind of overheard what they were saying.” Matthew decided to make one more attempt to explain away his wrongs.

  “Well, did you overhear it in a public place or was it in a private setting? And did they intend for other people to overhear their discussion, so to speak?”

  “I guess they expected their conversation to be private.”

  “That is one of the great moral dilemmas facing the world today,” the reverend said. “With everything connected and wired, it’s just too easy to overhear conversations that you’re not supposed to.”

  He filled his and Matthew’s water glasses. “Let me explain it this way. There are lots of societies in history and around the world today where people share very cramped living conditions, like in Japan, China and even in some areas of this country. Places where families share very limited living space.”

  He looked at Matthew. “Do you see the problem here?”

  “I guess.”

  “There are many homes where the parents share their bedroom with several children or where the walls are so thin and the rooms so small that the people in the next room might as well be in the same room with you. But privacy is a basic human need, so how do they cope?”

  “I couldn’t live like that.”

  “You would adapt. Now these places have rules of behavior that are strictly followed. Children learn from a very early age to not hear sounds and conversations that they are not involved in.”

  “How can you not hear?”

  “Coming from a teenager that’s an unusual question. How many times do you not hear your mother when she’s talking to you?”

  “I see your point.” Matthew didn’t want to admit to ignoring his mother.

  “The sound is there, but you learn to not pay attention. You let it become part of the background noise that we all ignore. Does that make sense?”

  “I guess it does.”

  “You learn not to let your attention drift to activities or conversations you’re not a part of. That way people can have privacy even if they have to live very close together. And if you should accidentally overhear something, you know never to use it. You have to pretend that you never heard it.”

  “That would be hard.”

  “Yes, it is hard, but that’s how you act ethically and with respect in a society where it’s so easy to see into other people’s lives. Does that make sense?”

  “I guess so. But what if you hear someone having a heart attack or stop breathing?”

  “In that case it’s okay to act on the information. It’s like when the air conditioner stops running, you notice it stopped but you weren’t necessarily listening to it run. Again, what’s important is that everyone can trust you to not abuse the fact that you can see or hear what they consider private.”

  “That makes sense. But I’m glad I don’t live in a place like that.”

  “But you do. And respecting people’s privacy is what your mother expects of you, what the church expects of you. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes, I see. It’s just so hard not to take advantage of the information when it’s right there for the picking. Like being in a candy store and not being able to eat any candy.”

  “That is what the Bible means when it tells us to resist temptations. There are temptations all around us every day. You have to recognize the ones that are asking you to do something that’s immoral or unethical and not give in.”

  “Sounds hard.”

  “It is. The temptation will always be there. But it’s our character that helps us to ignore it and move on with our lives.” Reverend Bishop took a sip of water.

  “Thanks, Reverend Bishop. That makes a lot of sense.”

  “I’m glad I could help.”


  “Now you need to tell me how to donate the money to the church.”

  “Well the building fund could use a little help. We want to replace the roof next year and that would benefit all the parishioners.”

  “It’s a lot more money than the roof will need,” Matthew winced as he realized the reverend didn’t know how much temptation he’d given into.

  “Just how much money are we talking about?”

  “It’s over half a million dollars,” Matthew said.

  “I see we’re talking a lot of temptation, no wonder your mother was so upset. Well how about this? You can put seventy thousand in the building fund, that’ll cover the roof. As for the rest of the money, how about Habitat for Humanity, you’ve heard of them?”

  “Sure, you’re always talking in church about getting people to volunteer.”

  “That’s right, the church works with them to build and repair homes for the poor. That seems a good place for such ill-gotten wealth. And for additional penance, you can come with us next weekend when we go to Mexico to work on some homes.”

  “That sounds great,” Matthew was relieved that Reverend Bishop had thought about the penance part. “I’ll move the money right away, that way you can buy extra stuff for Saturday.”

  “All right then, I hope to see you in church tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be there, and thanks Reverend Bishop.”

  “You’re welcome, Matt.”

  Relieved Matthew went home and told his mother. She said she wanted to go with him when he went to the project. It would be a chance to spend some time together doing something important. During Sunday services Reverend Bishop told the congregation that the church had come into some extra money for the Habitat For Humanity program, so next Saturday they could use as many volunteers as possible to really make the day a success. He asked people to sign up by Tuesday so they could buy the right amount of supplies and make plans with the project coordinator in Mexico.

  . . .

  The next week was uneventful for Matthew. With just school, work, his Kung Fu lesson and a tennis lesson on Thursday night, Matthew was grateful for the rest. On Saturday when he and his mom met the church bus to go to Mexico for the Habitat for Humanity project, Matthew was looking forward to an uncomplicated day of work. He wore jeans, a tee shirt and his hiking boots and had packed a flannel shirt in case it got cold later in the day. He also brought his father’s work belt and tools. His mother also wore jeans and a tee shirt with one of his father’s old denim shirts over it. She looked younger than Matthew had remembered her looking in a long time.

  “Come on, Matt, let’s go, we don’t want to miss the bus.” Mrs. Brandt carried a lunch basket to the car. “Mrs. Maier is looking after Jessie, so we’re all set. Are you bringing your father’s tools?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got the tools, his work belt and that Aussie hat he always wore outside. Look Mom, I’m really sorry. I know I disappointed you and ...”

  “It’s okay, Matty. I know you’re sorry and I can see why you did what you did. But we’re going to be fine.”

  “I’m glad. Are you still mad at me?”

  “I’m not mad at you, and I think you’ve done the right thing. So don’t keep beating yourself up over it. What’s done is done, and we move on.” She put her arms around him and gave him a hug.

  “Thanks, Mom. I’m glad you’re coming.” Matthew hugged her back. “It’ll be fun working together.”

  . . .

  “Hello Matthew, hello Margaret,” Reverend Bishop said as they boarded the bus. “Are you ready for some hard work?”

  “I guess so,” Matthew said walking to the back of the bus.

  “Hi, Matt.”

  Matthew was startled to hear Jennifer’s voice. When he looked around, he saw Jennifer waving to him from the only seat in the back of the bus that wasn’t already full.

  “Hi, Jen.”

  “Come on and sit with me,” Jennifer moved over to make room for Matthew. “I won’t bite.”

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” Matthew sat down next to Jennifer.

  “You’re surprised to see me? I’m the one who’s surprised. I go on almost every one of the Habitat for Humanity projects and I’ve never seen you before.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know you did this. This is my first time.”

  “Well it’s going to be fun. It’s so cool, helping people build a home or fix up their old one. Reverend Bishop said we’re going to build four homes this weekend.”

  “Four homes, that sounds like a lot.”

  “It is, usually we only can do one because it costs so much for the supplies. But we got a big donation, so we’re going to do four this weekend and another four next month, and maybe four in December if the weather holds.”

  Matthew could tell Jennifer was really excited. “Are you going on all of them?”

  “If I can. You should see the kinds of places these people have to live in. Some of them are no more than big cardboard boxes with dirt floors.”

  “I’ve seen them on TV.”

  “It’s even worse when you’re there. But when they get to have a real house with real floors, it means so much to them.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “And the children, they really need the shelter before winter sets in. So many of them get sick, and some die from the cold in the winter.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “I just wish we could build hundreds of homes.” Jennifer was really excited talking about the projects.

  Matthew looked around the bus, “How are we going to build four homes in one weekend? There aren’t enough of us; and who knows what to do?”

  “Don’t worry. When we get to the site there will be some buses from other churches and some construction workers from both the American and Mexican sides of the border.”

  “That’s good.” Matthew was relieved to know they would have help.

  “We just have to do what they tell us. Mostly it’s carrying and fetching, or holding a board while someone else nails it, but you get to watch the house go up.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “It is. You might get to hammer nails in, since you’re big enough and you brought your own hammer.” Jennifer looked at Matthew’s tool belt with admiration.

  All the way to the building site, Jennifer told Matthew about the different projects she’d been on. Lots of them were in Mexico, but some were in San Diego. Two or three times a year they would go to some of the poorer communities of San Diego and help people fix up their homes, adding insulation, repairing the walls, painting, cleaning up the yard, whatever needed to be done. The people were always so nice and so excited to find somebody who cared enough about them to spend a weekend on their home. By the time they got to the building site, Matthew was truly excited.

  As they got off the bus, Matthew was overwhelmed by the poverty. The houses were mostly made of sticks with tarpaper for walls, the streets were dirt and the houses were so small. They were barely more than a single room with a hole in the ceiling. Along the back of the little community there was a row of eight neat houses built up off the ground. They were small three-bedroom houses, but they looked like mansions compared to the rest of the homes around them. There were a series of concrete stands ready for houses to be built on them.

  As Matthew was staring at them, Reverend Bishop walked up and explained, “Last spring, we got a concrete mixer and put in the foundations for thirty-six homes. We figured it would take three years to put houses on all of them. But now we’ll get over halfway there before it starts raining. And by next spring, we’ll need to put more foundations in.”

  The volunteers were divided into four teams. Each team had a foreman, an experienced construction worker, who would guide and coordinate the activities of the team. One team would do foundations and floor decking, then the next would frame the houses, and the next would handle putting on the siding, and the last would do roofing. Each team was subdivided into two crews with an experienced construc
tion worker on each crew. Matthew was assigned to a crew with Jennifer and his mom. The crew leader was Raul, a Mexican worker who was smaller than Matthew and looked to be about fifty years old. He spoke broken English as he told them what to do. He explained that the house was designed so that it would require minimal cutting of the lumber. The standard size boards from the lumberyard would normally fit.

  “Young man,” he said, “You know how to use that hammer?” He was pointing at the hammer in Matthew’s tool belt.

  “A little. My dad taught me how, and we built the deck behind our house together.”

  “Okay, we see,” Raul said. “Now you two, you bring the boards.” Raul pointed at the stack of boards. “Then we men will try to nail them together, okay?”

  He explained that they would build the walls while they were lying on the ground and then stand them up. The other crew would get the floor started and handle decking and the roof. He would call for the board size he wanted. Studs were in that pile and cross beams in that pile, etc.

  When Jennifer and his mom had laid out the first set of boards, Matthew and Raul started nailing them together. Raul would take a 16-penny nail, tap it into place then with a full swing of his hammer drive it in completely. Matthew was amazed. He had to hit the nail four or five times to drive it in. He started to copy Raul, swinging the hammer through a full arc, like he did with his staff or broadsword. He soon got to where he could drive a nail in only two or three swings. Raul watched him and smiled. When they had finished the first wall, it was Raul who had nailed about two thirds of the boards; he was so much faster than Matthew.

  After they set the wall up on the foundation and started the next wall, Raul walked over to Matthew. “Young man, you hit the nail real good for a greenhorn,” Raul said. “Where you learn to do that?”

  “Oh, I do martial arts. So I have good hand-eye coordination.”

  “If you do martial arts, why you not drive the nails in with your hand?” Raul asked, smiling.

  Matthew turned red, embarrassed that Raul was making fun of him. “It would hurt my hand,” Matthew said, hoping that Raul wouldn’t tease him too much in front of Jennifer and his mom.