Today's Scripture Reading (October 3, 2025): Psalm 92 & 93
I love the story of the Ragman imagined by Walter
Wangerin. Wangerin tells a tale of a ragman that the storyteller saw one Friday
morning. The Ragman's voice rang out loud and clear. "Rags! New rags for
old! I take your tired rags! Rags!"
It was a fantastic sight because this man stood six
feet four inches tall, and his arms were thick, like tree limbs, firm and
muscular, and his eyes were full of intelligence. Why would a man like this
spend his time as a ragman in the inner city?
Soon, the Ragman found a woman on her porch, crying
into her handkerchief. But the Ragman stopped when he saw the woman. His voice
spoke gently. "Give me your rag and I will give you another." The Ragman
took the handkerchief from her eyes and gave her a new crisp white piece of
cloth. But then something unexpected happened. He placed the woman's dirty
handkerchief over his own eyes, and he began to weep while the woman was left
without a tear.
After a while, this Ragman came upon a child whose
head was wrapped in a bloody bandage. The Ragman took a yellow hat from his
cart and offered it to the little girl. "I'll trade you," he said. The
child loosened the bandage, gave it to him, and took the yellow bonnet for her
own head. I couldn't believe what happened next; the wound went with the
bandage. Now it was the Ragman's head that bled, and the child was healed.
Next, the Ragman met a man leaning against a pole.
The Ragman asked the man, "Do you have a job?" The man looked at the Ragman
as if he were crazy and showed him the right sleeve of his jacket, which had no
arm. The Ragman smiled. "Give me your jacket and I will give you mine."
The trade was made, but the arm of the Ragman went with the jacket. Now the man
had two arms, while the Ragman only had one.
The Ragman found a drunk sleeping under an old army
blanket, but the Ragman took the army blanket and left new clothes. Now the Ragman
was weeping uncontrollably, bleeding profusely from his head, and pushing his
cart with only one arm.
He came to a landfill. He cleared a space and lay
down. He used a handkerchief and a jacket as a pillow. He covered his body with
an army blanket. And there, he died.
There I cried until I fell asleep. I slept through
the rest of Friday and through all of Saturday. I was awakened on Sunday by a bright,
demanding light. There stood the Ragman, folding the blanket. He had a scar on
his head, but he was healthy and alive. And all of the rags he had gathered
were clean and shining.
I went to him and introduced myself by name. Then, I
took off my clothes and asked the Ragman to dress me. And he dressed me. He put
new rags on me, the Ragman, the Ragman, the Christ.
The Psalmist says the righteous will flourish like a
cedar in Lebanon. There were cedars in Israel, but the ones in Lebanon were
stronger. Like the cedar, what matters is where the righteous person is
planted. If we are planted in the House of the Lord, if the Ragman has dressed
us, we will flourish. But it matters where we are planted.
Some might be offended by what I am about to say, but
please stick with me. The House of the Lord, the Church, is the trash heap on
which the Ragman died. But if our roots are in that landfill, then we are
raised with Christ, clothed by the Ragman, and growing strong and straight
because of the Ragman's presence in our lives.
Tomorrow's Scripture Reading:
Psalm 94
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