The Gift
Can a person possess
too many virtues?
This question often
crosses my mind when I contemplate Brother Van de Lugt. He is a man brimming
with admirable qualities: he’s kind-hearted, diligent, loyal, meticulous, an
exemplary family man, and more. Moreover, he possesses an extraordinary memory.
Mr. Van de Lugt is
an accountant and also serves as the clerk of the church council, adding two
more virtues to his list.
His household runs
like clockwork, a testament to his wife’s efficiency. But the credit for
choosing such a woman goes to him, highlighting his thoughtfulness and
thoroughness.
However, his most
striking trait is his prodigious memory, which he often emphasizes with the
irksome phrase: “Don’t you remember?”
I’m certain many of
my colleagues know whereof I speak. We all know a Van de Lugt, don’t we?
Someone who recalls your sermon themes and divisions from five years ago and
remembers precisely when Jan Jansma married Betsy Pieterse (“Pastor, you used
that text from I Corinthians for Dirk Theunissen and Grietje Meinders’ wedding
last year, don’t you remember?”).
When I crack a
joke, he remembers a slightly different version I told months ago, or he even
recalls an event his father experienced in 1929, “. . . or was it 1928?”
You can imagine my
delight when the publisher of the Church Bulletin called to inform me that the clerk
had apparently forgotten to send in the announcements. Almost skipping with joy,
and schadenfreude, I hurried to Brother Van de Lugt’s. He has nine
children, and one of them opened the door.
“Come in,” came Van
de Lugt’s friendly voice. The poor man had no idea what was coming.
“You see, Brother
Van de Lugt, the publisher of the Bulletin called me about the announcements.”
“The
announcements?”
“Yes, it seems you
forgot to send them in.”
I smiled
insincerely, but he didn’t. He simply said, “I already gave you all the
information on Sunday. You were going to take care of it yourself because the
groom’s full name still had to be filled in, don’t you remember?”
He was right. Of
course, he was. If anyone is correct, then Van de Lugt is.
After a few feeble
attempts to save face, I stood up. My joy had turned into gall, and the urge to
skip had evaporated.
“Shall I take care
of the groom’s name?” he asked.
“Oh, no,” I said
stiffly, “I’ll ensure it is correct in the bulletin.”
“Now that I’m
speaking to you, Reverend, have you sent in the information for classis? The convening
church needs it before the fifteenth, don’t you remember?”
“Right. I’ll ensure
it is mailed on time,” I said lamely.
“I’m sorry my wife
isn’t home; she’s just gone to Mrs. Laatsman’s. We talked about her at the consistory
meeting and you were going to bring her a visit, don’t you remember?”
He was right.
Because. . . well, see above.
Afraid that more of
my shortcomings would be revealed, I hurried out.
At the door: “Oh, Reverend,
I hope you don’t mind, but do you still have my pen? I lent it to you last
Sunday, don’t you remember?”
With the feeling of
an apprehended pickpocket, I handed over the pen.
“You remember
everything,” I said with just a bit of bitterness.
“Well,” he said
innocently, as the voices of the nine children echoed happily from within the
house, “perhaps I do have the gift of memory.”
Well, I left it at
that.
Yes, that Van de
Lugt, he is indeed as I have portrayed him above.
But the distressing
thing is that when I re-read what I wrote, I wondered: have I actually
described his virtues or my flaws?
From “De Gave,” pp 96-98, Peper en Zout, M. E. Voilà: Kok, Kampen, n.d.; tr. George van Popta, 2024
