My Attempt at Sunday School

 There was a time, half a century ago (okay, 56 years ago), when my Grandmother attempted to convert me to Christianity. She and my grandfather went to the "First Church of Christ," then a generic Christian church, now gone full evangelical. It didn't work in general, although I did become friends with a girl my age, who was even less religious than I.

This story concerns my 30 minutes in an hour-long Sunday School class.

So, they put me in a classroom with kids my age, but who had been in Sunday School the entire time. And after a few prayers, we moved on to the "lessons." The Chaplin in training said to me, "Scott, how many books are in the Bible?"

I was too clever to be caught in such an obvious trick question, and so I answered, "One."

"No," he said, "How many books?"

"One"

He sighed, now realizing the depth of my ignorance. "No Scott, there are some number," he said (however many I don't remember). X amount are in the Old Testament, and X amount are in the New Testament."

I repeated my answer, and he repeated his. I actually remember this conversation. I could not believe how dumb he was. So I walked over, held up a Bible from the shelf and said, "One. It is one book."

Now he understood. He understood what I meant and tried to correct me. He took the Bible, and moved to the first page of a couple of books. "See," he said,  "each of these is a separate book."

But I had been quizzed often on other things by my father. I knew a trick when I saw one. "No," I explained, "those are chapters. Sometimes, they have names, not numbers." I was nothing if not well-read at this point in my life.

He got up and walked away. A few minutes later, my Grandmother took me back into the Chapel. I was convinced I had graduated from the class, and I could not believe those other dummies.

Turns out my grandmother was pulled out of the sermon to remove me from the class where I was supposedly disruptive.

My first and last Sunday School - that I remembered.