The Last Question

“I cried when I wrote this song, sue me if I go too long.” – Steely Dan

There are moments in life when inspiration suddenly appears without warning. In 1976 I was fourteen years old. I had just completed two difficult years in confirmation classes. I was raised Lutheran. Lutherans are famous for two initiatives: music and education. Confirmation classes were long and exhausting. The exams were thorough and lengthy. Memorization was imperative. Bible reading was essential.

I had just moved to a new town and started middle school without knowing a single person my age. Spending your time in a Bible does not help with making new friends. But I was dedicated and worked hard. By the time the second year came to a close, me and my fellow classmates began preparing for our final exam. It was to be the biggest and most difficult of all the previous tests. We all studied for weeks.

Classes were always held on Thursday evenings. Next Thursday was to be the final exam. Everyone doubled down on studies and verse memorization. I felt prepared when I arrived the night of the exam. And to my happy surprise I found the exam easy. I had done my homework and the answers poured out of my fourteen year old brain. I scored a near perfect score and celebrated with my parents when I got home.

This should be the end of the story, but the Lutherans have one more nasty trick up their sleeves. All passing students would be submitted to a Thursday evening service in the church. There, we were placed in the front pew. The service was very straightforward. The pastor would read off questions from the pulpit and chosen students would rise, receive a microphone and answer their question to the whole congregation. This was some real nail-biting stuff. The church was naturally packed.

Facing the congregation with microphone in hand was an act of early adulthood. There was no one there to hold your hand or excuse you because of fear or even worse no answer to offer. I was the star student in our class and got the first question. It was a bible verse. I needed to recite it. I knew it so I leaned into the microphone and recited scripture to an attentive congregation. Laughter burst out when the pastor stopped me and said I had finished the verse a while ago and just kept going. I knew my lines well.

Passing the question and answer service held great excitement for all of us. Now adults, we would be allowed to participate in the sacraments with the other adults.

But first we had to answer our questions. We were promised that we would each receive five questions although we did not know which ones. Religious explanations on our faith and verse reciting were among the more than two hundred question we were given to prepare.

One by one I received my question and recited my answer. I began to feel like the finish line was in reach. A calm began to fall over me. I had done it. I am going to make it. When I answered my fifth and final question, I returned the microphone to helper and sat down. A smile came over my face and I knew I had done it. Two years of hard work was finally behind me. I watched my fellow classmates finish their last question and sit down overwhelmed with relief. It was a wonderful feeling.

When the last student answered their last question we all looked around. The service was coming to a close and we had all done well. I expected the pastor to call everyone to their feet and sing the last hymn together.

That did not happen.

Instead something very unusual happened.

“Michael Hemphill” my name was called. This must be wrong. I had completed my five questions. I’m done. We are all done.

“Michael Hemphill, please stand. I have one more special question just for you.” My stomach flip-flopped. I reached out with sweaty palms and received the microphone not knowing what to expect. I listened while the pastor spoke.

“Michael, you have set an excellent example for your fellow students and proved you are a role model and an accomplished student. I speak for the whole congregation when I say that you have made us proud.” I looked at my parents. They were beaming. I was terrified.

“Michael, can you tell me and the congregation before you, what have you learned from these past two years, in your own words please?”

I turned to the congregation and paused. I searched my shaking mind for something to recite, something to repeat. I had nothing. Slowly, I began talking.

“I walked into this church this evening to prove to myself that my faith and my mind were strong.” I began not knowing where it would lead. “I let my beliefs and faith wash over my heart and calm my mind. I have accepted my Savior into my life and want to live by his example. Our faith has taught me well. The scriptures provide many examples of an idealistic life that encourages a young mind like myself. I stand before all of you a peaceful young man and hope that I can live my life in a way that follows my teachings. I love God, Jesus, my parents, and all of you. I love my life. I am thankful, grateful to be here right in this moment.”

I heard the words coming out but I had no idea how I was formulating the sentences so quickly. Then suddenly. I stopped. I looked around and people were crying. My parents were crying. And then I began to cry.

Later at the door as people were exiting for the evening, the entire class had gathered and shook hands, hugged and kissed. I was well received by nearly everyone in the church. I did not yet understand what had happened. I would learn more later in my life.

I no longer have that faith. I lost it over the years. It started in university when I allowed my mind to open up to newer thoughts of the whole world and universe. There were teachers cast throughout the ages that I had never heard of and I wanted to know what they all had to say. I became a lifelong reader and watched my mind open to new concepts that challenged the very limits of my faith, never losing my religion but rather melding it into something more personal for me, something that I could believe in.

I know that there is good and evil. This paradigm exists in all the halls of debate and contemplation. I know that our concept of life is elusive in a way that allows for any truisms to be challenged. Our whole existence could be caught in a teardrop of a giant turtle that lives in a universe that belongs to a larger experience too complex to understand. Before we were born millions of years passed by and when we are gone we will be gone for eternity. Maybe for you that is a place called Heaven. There is a sure sense of comfort in that thought. But I have lost that concept over time. I see my life now as the most important thing I need to experience. For when it is over, for me anyway, it is over. If I believed in reincarnation, I would like to return as a spoiled house cat, because I love taking naps, but I don’t believe that anymore either.

Life is a journey. Enjoy it. Love often, don’t hurt others and forgive quickly.

P.S. Happy birthday dad!

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