Tag Archives: Resurrection

The Miracle

hare-head01plFaith and politics, Gertruida will tell you, have a lot in common. A lot of what we believe are based on promises that we choose to believe. The action following the promise, however, is a matter of personal interpretation.

Take for instance – and here Gertruida will smile knowingly – the case of Ma Roberts’ rabbits. If ever there was a club for non-believers, then Ma would have been the founding member and life president. And it wasn’t like Oudoom didn’t try either. Back then, the townsfolk would observe a full minute’s worth of silence – staring longingly at the glasses in front of them – every Wednesday afternoon as Oudoom’s old Ford huffed its way down Voortrekker Weg to pay a visit to this formidable woman.

Oudoom used to say Ma Roberts was his equivalent of Jonah’s whale, especially placed on earth to test his faith, his conviction and his commitment. To his credit: it must be said that he never wavered. Regular as clockwork, he visited the huge lady with the short temper – every Wednesday afternoon. He took his Bible along, of course; but he was careful not to overplay his hand. With Ma you had to be careful…extremely careful. She had a way of clamming up, growing red in the face while her eyes bulged ominously, before telling you what (exactly) you could go and do with yourself. This was the same for the occasional traders that visited her farm, the campaigning politicians, and poor Oudoom. He said she can move surprisingly fast, just like a hippo – which we all know is the animal responsible for most killings in Africa.

And, Gertruida will add, one must not forget that Ma was a progressive farmer. Quite successful too, if one considers her methods. She started off with chickens, which she supplied to the fried-chicken franchise in Grootdrink. It is rumoured that she made quite a fortune with this endeavour; which one can understand if you take into consideration that after two months, her neighbours didn’t have a single chicken left. These neighbours remembered what happened to Japie Mulder, the chap who had a dream of representing the district for the ANC in the town council. Oh, he can walk quite well again, even without the crutches (for short distances).  But still, one thinks about such an incident quite deeply before accusing Ma Roberts of stealing a simple thing like a chicken.

With her supply of chickens gone, Ma Roberts contemplated the prospect of a diminishing cash flow, which would have meant reducing her intake of peach brandy. That’s when she took up rabbit farming. Actually, it wasn’t rabbits she kept in that cage behind her house: they were hares. But skin a hare, marinate it ever so slightly in lemon juice, and not even an expert will tell the difference.

Gertruida says one mustn’t confuse hares with rabbits. Rabbits have a soft, succulent flesh – which is why the Belgian restaurant in Kimberley was keen to procure the real thing. But hares? They’re a lot tougher than rabbits. They occur naturally in the Kalahari, fend for themselves within an hour after birth, and do not need the fancy feeding rabbits do. As an aside, Gertruida will remind you that a baby rabbit is called kittens, while the young of hares (which are hairy at birth) are called leverets. This she says just to impress you – not because it has anything to do with The Miracle.

So Ma sent out her labourers to catch the hares on her farm (for a start) and after a week she had eight of the furry animals living in her old chicken coop. After a month, she had twenty-four, due to the original hare’s natural…er…social interaction.

And during this time, Oudoom redoubled his efforts to get Ma Roberts to reconsider her faithless life. He told her about Hope, Love and Mercy. Ma wouldn’t listen, telling him that’s why the country is in such a terrible state. Oudoom changed tack and told her about Jesus – His life, His teachings, and His crucifixion.

Now, Gertruida adds happily, it’s time to talk about Herman du Preez, the chickenless neighbour. Herman was a sickly old man, patiently waiting for the end of his days on the dying farm where the drought (and Ma Roberts) finally stole his hope of a better life on earth. Realising The End was slowly creeping up on him, he took to reading the Bible on his stoep every day, while the only other living thing on his farm – Butch the sheep dog – rested at his feet. Oudoom visited him occasionally to assure him the Paradise was real, and yes, the streets were paved with gold, indeed. This made the old man very happy.

That is, until the day he realised Butch was missing. He closed the Bible, noting the chapter in the book of Job he was studying, and shuffled to the back of the house to look for his faithful friend.

And he found Butch.

With a hare in his jaws.

The hare was dead.

And old Herman looked up at the sky and told the Lord he still had to finish Job. And the New Testament, old Herman prayed earnestly, needed another going-through as well. Surely he can finish that before he closed his eyes for the last time? He reminded his Maker that Ma was a rather deadly opponent, just look what happened to Japie Mulder?

So he sat down, took the dead body from the guilty-looking Butch, and he thought about his problem deeply. If Ma knew his dog had taken one of her rabbits…er, hares…

Herman washed the little body in the basin in his kitchen. Then he dried the dead hare, fluffing up the fur as well as he could. He remembered his long-departed wife’s meagre collection of cosmetics, fished out the almost-dry lipstick and added colour to the lips and a touch of rouge to the cheeks. The brush came in handy, too.

That night, when all the Kalahari slept peacefully, old Herman walked all the way over to Ma Roberts’ farm. Being old and frail, this took longer than he expected, but he made it an hour or so before dawn. He found the wooden gate to the chicken coop, opened the latch, and quietly deposited the small corpse next to the one sleeping hare, who didn’t seem to mind too much.

Then he started shuffling back home.

That Sunday he attended church as usual and was completely surprised to see Ma Roberts in the front pew. Oudoom smiled broadly and halfway through the service he said one of the members of the congregation had something to say.

Ma Roberts hoisted her hefty frame upright, turned around and said she was happy to announce that she’d been wrong all along.

“Look,” she said, “Oudoom has been badgering me about faith for a long time now. As you all know, I thought it was just to soothe his own conscience. But…” and here the whole district saw Ma Roberts falter for the first time in her life, “I was wrong.”

She took a deep breath.

“Oudoom told me about the Resurrection last Wednesday. I listened with one ear. He asked if he could pray for me. I said yes because I wanted his sorry ass off my property.” She ignored the giggles. “Well, he prayed for a sign. Any sign, he said, to make me see the Truth.”

Another deep breath…

“Then one of my rabbits – er… hares – died and I buried it in the veld. It was dead. Really dead.

“And you know what happened? That bloody hare rose from the dead, returned to the coop and looked more alive than I’ve ever seen any hare look like – in all my life.”


Old Herman died the following month – peacefully in his sleep. When Koos Kadawer laid him out, he was amazed. Corpses, in his experienced opinion, have slack faces. Mostly expressionless. Unless they died of fright or after being struck by lightning, like Electric Eddie, the best weather forecaster the district ever had.

Not so with old Herman. He looked contented. Happy. His lips curled upwards in death, like a smile.

Or like somebody who knows a delicious secret he doesn’t want to share.

Oudoom’s Easter Sunday Semon – Them Stones

Oudoom gives the same Easter Sunday Sermon every year. He’d read the passage in Mark 16, and remind them of the young man in robes who waited for the disciples in the open cave where they had buried Jesus.

Now, who was this young man, and where did he come from. What was his name? Why was he there?  We dont’t know. Mark doesn’t tell us he was an angel – he describes him as human and gives him a human voice. What is important about Mark’s account – it occurs in the other gospels as well – was that the stone was rolled away for them to see the young man.

Let us consider these events for a while. The young man mentioned by Mark, waited for Mary and Salome. He had a message for them. These women would go down in history as the ones who were the first to be convinced about the Resurrection.

Would it have been accomplished, if the stone in front of the grave was still there; in its place? No! Jesus didn’t need the stone rolled away to get out…we later hear the gospels telling us that He could walk through walls. He needed the stone rolled away so that his Mother and Salome would witness His absence. The very fact that He left had to be retold – like we do today – to convince the world that He had risen from the dead.

The rolled- away stone was the revelation of His Resurrection. Had the stone been in place, they wouldn’t have been any wiser.

So, think about stones for a while. We read about hearts of stone. The Ten Commandments were written on stone. There are accounts of the most important stone being rejected by the builders. A father will not give his child a stone instead of bread. Stones, in the Bible, are stumbling blocks. We stumble over Gods commandments, because we are unfaithful and we want proof. We hesitate when we have to cement in the most important stone in our temple; and when God gives us bread, we often think about it as stone, because we don’t understand the reason for hardship.

But here, we read that the stone has been rolled away, revealing the Resurrection. This is what you all have to experience to understand the grace of God. The Resurrection is the revelation of God’s grace – but we have to remove the obstacles that prevent us from seeing it.

Initially, Gertruida had to spend considerable time on Boggel’s veranda to explain the sermon. Kleinpiet remembered the stone that punctured a wheel. Vetfaan said something about a detour he had to make around a huge rock in the way of his route to the farm. Precilla said not all rocks are bad, because it was a quarry that was responsible for the origin of Rolbos. Boggel reminded them of the rocks they carted in to lay the foundation of the church.

“Yes, that’s all very true and great and all that. But then there is the stone we place on every grave. Maybe it says something about the deceased – that they wanted to take their stoneswith them? That they couldn’t face life – or death – without a stone?” Servaas is always the last to understand.

And every year, after Oudoom spoke, they would talk about stones and how they’ve made them important parts of their lives. When the rooibos tea is finished, they’ll sit quietly as they contemplate the revalation of the absent stone.

And every one of them – without exception – will wish that young man will come and help them move some rocks. Sometimes they think they’ll be scared by what they see, just like Mary and Salome were. And sometimes they’d wish the stone would continue to hide the truth, because they fear the change it’ll bring about. But mostly, when Oudoom walks back to the pastorie, they’ll get up respectfully to thank him for the message.

And, verily, they’d see tears in the eyes of the old man as they shake his hand, because Oudoom knows their stones have been rolled away such a long time ago. They’re just too afraid to go and have a look, that’s all.

That’s why he’ll give that same sermon on every Easter Sunday … until they get it.