A Shallow Grave

"We have gathered here today to bury something that is dear to Brother Xavier Johnson. It has been with him for much of his life. But wonderfully, he has chosen to leave it behind. Brother Johnson, would you like to say a few words?"

The attendees sat in a field on scattered wooden pews placed around a hole with a pile of dirt and a shovel next to it. Brother Johnson rose from one pew and stood next to Reverend Williams.

"I've kept this with me for too long. I'm burying my sin today. It has caused me so much pain and anguish and it's time I left it behind. It has injured my wife, my children, those who work with me, and really everyone I know. And it's injured me."

Reverend Williams cleared his throat. "And God."

Brother Johnson continued. "And it has injured God. He has helped me so much. It is the least I could do to bury this fault, to get rid of it and never pick it up again."

Reverend Williams smiled deeply. "Brothers and Sisters, what a great example Brother Johnson is. Repent! Bury your faults. Leave them behind. Be done with them!" He turned to Brother Johnson. "It is time, Brother."

Brother Johnson nodded. He walked back to the pew and grabbed a large cloth bag. Undoing the pull string, he reached in and pulled out a box with a handle which extended about three feet from it.

Brother Johnson ran his hand along the handle. "This handle is really quite comfortable." He looked over the box. "And honestly, this hasn't been that heavy to carry around. With the nice handle, I hardly notice it's there."

The reverend looked concerned. "Brother Johnson, it is time. Let it go. These graveside ceremonies are difficult. It is always hard to see something we love buried. But, it is time. Be strong!"

Brother Johnson nodded. "Yes. Of course. You are right. It is hard. But, of course, I want to do this."

He stood staring at the box with the handle smiling, and saying a few things to himself.

"Brother Johnson!"

"Oh yes, sorry!"

Brother Johnson moved to the side of the hole and dropped the box in it. He grabbed the shovel, paused briefly to wipe something from his eye, and then started shoveling. Within five minutes, the hole was full.

"Brother Johnson."

"Yes, Reverend?"

"The hole isn't deep enough. The handle is still sticking out."

"Yeah. I guess it is. But the box is buried. It is buried and I'll never pick it up again."

"Brother Johnson, the handle is still sticking out. You could come by and grab it any time and pull it up."

"Oh, I would never do that, Reverend. It is dead and buried, in my past, never to be grabbed again."

"I'm not so sure. Where do you work?"

"The factory, right over there."

"And do you walk to work?"

"I do."

"So you would come by here every day on your way to work."

"Well yes, I guess I would."

"And you would see this handle sticking up."

"It's a possibility. But I'm sure I would never look this way. After today, this is out of my mind. I'm sure I'll never think of it again."

"Brother Johnson, I have some advice for you. You need to dig a bigger hole. You need to bury it so deeply that you will never see that handle. Bury it deeply in the earth!"

"Wow, Reverend, I don't know about that. Do you know how long it took me to dig that hole? A long time. And now to dig it back up and make it deeper? I don't know if I have that kind of time."

"So you're going to leave it with the handle sticking out?"

Brother Johnson took out his handkerchief and dabbed the handle, wiping some dirt off one side. He polished the metal part, rubbing it vigorously. "Oh, Reverend, I'm sure it is done and buried. It's over. I'm very certain of that."

The Reverend sighed. "Well, that makes one of us, Brother Johnson. That makes one of us."