Disclaimer: I hope this story is not
misunderstood. I mean no disrespect to Gypsy people around the world. Our church
works with the Banjara Gypsies in India, and I have learned a lot about them.
Historically, they have been the victims of cruel prejudice and have been
persecuted in many ways throughout history.
This story happened to me in 1985. Since it
actually happened, I feel okay about telling it.
Seminary was a surreal experience for me. I
never could get used to being around so many ministers. The place is lousy with
them. Everywhere you look. I kept my head down and busied myself with my
studies, mostly. I did make friends with a cab driver from New York City, who
became a Christian and decided he would go to seminary to find out the inside
scoop on his new religion. I don’t recommend that to anyone, but David was the
sort of person who did things his own way and usually to an extreme. I wrote
about David once before; maybe you remember that story.
David and I worked together driving limousines
while we were in seminary. Driving a limousine is NOT a glamorous job. Glamorous
people don’t hire limos very often. You mostly end up with drug addicts (the
back of a limo is a safe place to do drugs), people who have fallen into money
and are spending it as fast as they can, and prom dates. Prom dates are the
worst. Drunken abusive kids, vomit on the carpet, and no tip.
I did drive Steve Young to the Davy O’Brian
awards in downtown Fort Worth. He was a senior quarterback at BYU that year and
already sort of famous. But he was still just a college kid. I remember looking
in the rear view mirror and seeing him wolfing down the pizzas provided by the
local businessman – an owner of a pizza chain - who was escorting him to the
fancy, rich-guy club where they hand out that award every year. You’d have
thought he’d never had pizza before.
That was as glamorous as it got, I’m afraid.
And then there was the gypsy wedding.
David and I were called by the owner of the
limo company and assigned to drive two limos for – and I quote – “A whole bunch
of gypsies who are in town for a wedding or something.”
Yeah, there was a whole bunch of them. They
piled into our cars, filling every seat and even sitting on the floors. Some of
them had to sit in the front seats. The bride and groom sat next to David in his
car. They looked kind of young, so he asked how old they were. They were 14,
which amazed and concerned him. The following conversation ensued, as reported
to me by David later that evening.
“You’re only fourteen? You can’t get married
that young, can you?”
“We can. It’s part of our religion.”
“What religion is that?”
“Gypsy.”
[pause]
“Since when is Gypsy a religion?”
Maybe it was his background as a cabbie, but
David could be pretty direct at times.
It was an interesting night, to say the least.
We saw some things we had never seen before. There was lots of drinking and
dancing and shouting. We drove them all over Dallas and Fort Worth, stopping at
various clubs and restaurants along the way. We had a few emergencies. One man
screamed at me because he had to “take a piss REAL BAD!” I pulled the car to the
curb and he staggered away and peed on the wall of a Burger King, while everyone
in the car howled with laughter.
Like I said, driving a limo isn’t exactly a
glamorous job.
About 1:30 or 2:00 in the morning, things were
settling down. While we were stopped at a McDonalds, one of the older men told
David and I the legend of the 4th nail.
According to the legend – at least as it was
told to us that night – there originally were four nails to be used to crucify
Jesus. One for each hand, one for his feet, and a final nail to drive straight
through his heart. Of course, if they had driven the nail through his heart, he
wouldn’t have lived long enough to say all the neat stuff he said from the
cross. If that had happened, Mel Gibson’s movie would have only been about 30
minutes long.
But before they could drive home the final
nail, a Gypsy stole it.
Anyway, after that God was so grateful to the
Gypsies that he gave them a permanent dispensation or something so that they can
steal whenever they like. So it’s really not a sin for them or anything. Which
comes in handy at times, I’m sure.
David and I, steeped in our theological
studies, thought this was absolutely hilarious and wonderful. We talked about it
excitedly while the last of the Gypsies piled into the cars after getting their
McRibs. I told David, “I’ll tell this story for the rest of my life.”
And so I have.
After that, the evening was pretty much over.
We dropped them off in front of a house in south Dallas. They stood in the yard,
all of them, waving at us. No one made a move toward the house.
I thought that was a little strange, but
everything that night was strange.
As I drove down the street I took one last look
in my rearview mirror. There they were, still standing in the yard waving at us.
They never moved until after we rounded the corner.
That wasn’t their house. Bad address. Phone
didn’t work. Check bounced. The cashier’s check for the deposit was a forgery as
well.
The legend of the 4th nail. Yep, it
comes in mighty handy sometimes.
rlp
The Gypsy
legend of the 4th nail takes several forms, as do many legends. In one version
it is a Gypsy who forges the nails used to crucify Christ, and he and his kind
are cursed. This might be a way of explaining the historic persecution of
Gypsies. In another form, a Gypsy steals the fourth nail, in some way helping
Christ and gaining the Gypsies permission from God to steal. More information
here and
here.
