A Crazy Tale about Mothers and Books and Wichita

Many years ago my parents owned a bookstore--well, actually, a gift and bookstore.  But for my mother it was the book part that really counted.

Mother loved operating that little shop in part because it gave her ample time to sample the wares.  I can still picture her sitting in her rocker near the checkout counter, engrossed in one or another volume she had slipped off the shelves!

They sold the business over thirty years ago, but to this day, my mother loves bookstores.  Most any kind of bookstore.  from big chains like Barnes and Noble, to small musty ones that sell second-hand books.  She loves them all!  She can get lost amongst the rows of bound pages for hours on end. 

For several years now her favorite bookstore has been a rather eclectic place in Wichita, Kansas called Eighth Day Books.  It is run by an Eastern orthodox fellow who is a big fan of Wendell Berry and C. S. Lewis.  It has sections devoted to literature, liturgy, spirituality, science--even a section devoted to the art of reading!  And it also has a very large stock of icons.  The eyes of Mary follow you all over the store!

But while mother had poured over Eighth Day's catalogues, which included reviews and lengthy descriptions, and while she has ordered dozens of books from the shop by mail, she had never set foot in the place! 

So earlier this summer she was talking about Eighth Day and off-handedly said, "You'll just have to take me there some day!"  We both laughed.  I live, as readers of this blog know, in Florida.  Mother lives in Kentucky.  The store is, as I said earlier, in Kansas!  But when I got off the phone and told my wife Linda about the conversation, she said, "Why not?  Why don't you take her to Wichita?"

So, the next Sunday, when we talked on the phone, I told her--and she was thrilled!

"Wichita?"  she almost shouted, "You're really taking me to Wichita?"  And so an adventure was born.

And this week we've been to Wichita.  The owner of Eighth Day Books, Warren Farha, and his staff, were most welcoming!  I suppose it's not everyday somebody comes all that distance just to visit their store.  But we did!

Crazy, right?  I mean, Wichita?  In August?  But such is the draw of books--for Mom, and quite honestly, for me as well.  My sister, who lives in the same town as Mom, tells me Mother has told everyone about the trip.  Everyone.  her friends, her pastor, her pharmacist, probably the guy who pumps her gas.  And when she gets back home I'm sure she'll regale them all with tales of our trip.

Who knows what the future holds for me and Mom as we both continue to grow older.  But, hey, we'll always have Wichita!

(Photo:  Warren Farha, owner of Eighth Day Books, my mother, Dr. Connie Danner, and me at Eighth Day Books)

Imagine That: Another Shooting

Another child has been shot in the neighboring city of Fort Myers.  Her name is Luxury--Luxury Vance.  She was at a family gathering when she was shot three times--probably for no other reason than the simple fact she was in the way of gunfire.  According to the police, "the child was not ithe intended target."  (News-Press, 8-3-15)

She's a good kid, folks are saying.  A really fine basketball player--and a leader on her school team.  And she's just twelve years old.  One year older than three of my own grandchildren.   It could have been any one of them.  Imagine that. 

Of course, that's the problem.  Lots of folks refuse to imagine such a thing.  Luxury is a black child--she lives in one of the more challenged parts of town.  Of course such things happen--it's Dunbar--what do you expect?  But such a failure of imagination is part of the reason such things happen--  because we refuse to identify.  We refuse to think it could happen to "our" children, "our" grandchildren. But it could--and even if it couldn't, the Luxurys of the world matter.  No child's death should be "expected" or acceptable!  And as long as we also refuse to create and enforce serious gun control measures, such things will continue to happen.

A week or so ago I saw a cartoon that spoke to the problem with real eloquence.  It was published shortly after the most recent mass shooting.  It picture a traditional old man God, complete with long white beard, looking over a cloud, holding a lightening bolt in his hand.  "OK," he said, "enough of the prayers for the victims and their families!  How about enacting some serious gun control measures!"

I don't think we should give up on the prayers, and I'll add Luxury and her family to my prayer list.  But enough is enough.  The time has come to put our imaginations to work, and to finally come to grips with the reality that we need to do something about the guns.

Imagine that!  Really.  Imagine that!

Just Because

A parishioner recently lent me an anthology of sacred prose and poetry titled God Makes the Rivers to Flow.  It is a lovely collection of poems and prayers drawn from a wide array of religious and spiritual traditions.  One prayer that caught my eye was penned by St. Ignatius of Loyola, the Spanish founder of the Society of Jesus--better known as the Jesuits.

St. Ignatius is especially well-known for a series of devotions he developed based on the scriptures, designed to help one move along his or her spiritual journey, called the Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius' discipline is built on using one's imagination to enter into the Biblical story.

Here's a part of the prayer that caught my eye:

 

Oh, my God, I want to love you,

Not that I might gain heaven

Nor escape eternal hell

But, Lord, to love you just because

you are my God.

 

 

As I pondered that prayer I realized that's how it is with all of us.  We want to be loved not because of what we can do for the other, but rather, just because.  Just because we are who we are.  That, in the end, is the purest expression of love--is it not?  To love another, just because.

 

(The photo is an icon of St. Ignatius of Loyola)

The NEW Modern Family

All six of my grandchildren have been with us over the 4th of July weekend.  All six!  They range in age from seven to fourteen and are all very unique human beings.  While I consider each and everyone of them my grandson or granddaughter, I realized at some point this weekend that not one of them is biologically tied to me.  None of them carry my DNA.  Which may be to their advantage!  But each of them came into my life in other ways.  Through stepchildren, through adoption . . . but not one in the traditional fashion.

I've been thinking about that a lot.  My wife Linda and I have a friend who refers to us as "the New Modern Family"--referencing the popular television show.  I suppose she calls us that because in our mix are folks of varying racial backgrounds, religious backgrounds and sexual orientations.  But she is, I suppose, right.  Our  family is representative of many, many families in the world. 
Yet we still cling to the mom, dad, and two biological kids model as the ideal.

So is there an "ideal family'?  I don't think so.  I think family configurations are as varied as people--and each comes with its own strengths and weaknesses.  Each comes with its own blessings, and its own challenges.  And sometimes, those are the same--what appears to be a challenge, is a blessing in disguise.  And what looks for all the world like a blessing, proves to be the ultimate challenge!

Whatever the case, I am most grateful for my family.  And all six of my grandchildren.  We're having a good time together--and when they go home, Linda and I will take a very long nap.  A VERY long nap!

The Work of Loving

Last week's Supreme Court decision concerning marriage equality is welcomed and celebrated by many.  Various polls indicate a majority of Americans support the concept.  It is now the law of the land in all fifty states.  But that doesn't mean the work is over.  Clearly, there are also large numbers of Americans who are opposed to same-sex marriage.  And, as we have seen in other civil rights struggles, a change in laws--whether legislatively imposed or judicially--is not the same as a change in attitudes and behaviours.

So what can we learn from the past?  First, things take time.  Many have commented on the fact that this change has taken far less time than many other changes in societal rules.  To think it will be implemented free of issues, to think that overnight people's understandings will change, would be very naïve.  That will not be the case, most assuredly.

Second, I think we must continue to recognize that the best way to convince someone of any such change is in and through personal experience.  One of the reasons a majority of folks support marriage equality is that they realized they have family and friends who are gay or lesbian.  And they want for them the same considerations as the heterosexuals in their circle.  If people experience same sex marriages there will be a better chance they will accept them in general.

All across the internet and beyond, one sees the phrase, "Love Wins" in reference to the Court's decision.  And I suppose, judicial decisions are always about winners and losers.  But Love isn't really about winning.  It is about accepting the other, caring for the other, doing right by the other.  And the work of loving--like love itself--never ends.

Changing Symbols, Changing Hearts

Earlier today I signed a petition urging the removal of the Confederate flag from the State House in South Carolina.  Apparently hundreds of thousands of other folks have done the same.  And  there is little question in my mind that such action needs to happen.  The flag symbolizes a movement that sought to undo our nation based on a desire to perpetuate slavery.  Period.  Keeping it aloft only antagonizes at this point.  It needs to come down.  Yes, put it on display in museums as a reminder of the past--but it has no place on a governmental institution.

All that said, however, signing that petition is low-hanging fruit.  Anybody can sign a petition.  The biggest risk in doing so is receiving unsolicited e-mails and social media posts that ultimately can be stopped with a keystroke or two.  And while the petition  may help push South Carolina's legislators into doing the right thing, ultimately, it is a distraction.  Not that it is unimportant, symbols are very important.  As a pastor I deal in symbolism all the time.  But to really make lasting changes we need to do far more than merely eliminate or change the symbols around us.  What we really need to do is change our hearts and minds.

Let's be clear.  The attack on Emanuel AME Church in Charleston was racially motivated.  It was a hate crime.  Let's not get distracted from that reality.  Let's not lose sight of the fact that it is far from the first such attack in the history of the Black church.  Time and again, innocents have died and buildings have been burned.  Not because somebody was mentally ill.  Rather, because somebody was filled with hatred.

The folks at Mother Emanuel know that better than I ever will, I suspect.  But they also know that the only way to combat hate is with love and forgiveness, and their witness has been amazing!  Mind you, forgiveness does not mean saying, "What you did was OK."  It doesn't mean saying, "Don't worry about it!"  Rather, forgiveness means letting go of one's need for revenge. Don't misunderstand, that doesn't mean there are no consequences to be paid by the perpetrator.  There are.

The question now, however, is what are we going to do besides signing a petition.  How are we as individuals, as religious congregations and as a nation, going to bring about real change in the way we think and feel about race?  Yes, we need, in some cases, to clean up our language, and stop sharing racist jokes. Yes, we need to take down the flags.  But we also need to take a deep, long look at the ways we systemically and institutionally perpetuate racism.  And more than that, we need to look deep in our hearts and, with the help of God, root out all that prevents us from living lives of love and forgiveness.  And what better symbol of that than the steeple of Mother Emanuel Church in Charleston?

(Photo: The steeple of Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, taken by Rebecca Travis)

A Word about Dress Codes

It may have been 1968 or 1969.  I don't remember for sure.  I was in high school at that time, and our local school board was considering instituting a stricter dress code.  In particular, they wanted to ban jeans.  They already had certain requirements in terms of things like shorts (they weren't allowed) and skirt lengths for the girls (no more than a certain number of inches above the knee, as I remember).  But now they wanted to add jeans to the proscribed list.  And we students were not happy about it.

Most folks--just like in the adult world--just groused about it.  But some of us decided to take on the school board and attend their open session.  It we would a show of solidarity around the issue.  We didn't really consider if any one would actually address the board during the public comment period, but that night, rather on the spur of the moment, I did.  I went to the mike, voiced my concern, and then used an analogy to explain my position.  "Diamonds in the rough," I said, "are still diamonds.   Clothes don't make the man or the woman or the boy or the girl.  What determines how a student acts, thinks, works, is deeper than clothing."  My fellow students applauded--I don't remember how the board reacted--I was too nervous to look at their faces!  I guess I didn't make that much of an impression though--for in the end, they banned jeans.

I've been thinking about that as I've followed with interest the case of  Caroline Boland, a young woman here in Lee County who was initially stripped of her office as Historian for the District Chapter of the National Honor Society because she wore a dress that violated the dress code.  She is, obviously, an excellent student, as well as an accomplished athlete (she plays basketball)--and this was her first "offense"--somewhat unwitting, it appears.  Whatever the case, the Superintendent of Schools finally overturned the decision. 

That's good, but still . . . . should it even have been an issue?  As an adult, I have a bit more patience with the idea of dress codes than I did as a high school student, but still, my position remains basically the same.  What really matters is what's on the inside, not the clothes one wears.  And  seems to be just the kind of student that we want to--need to--applaud and hold up as a role model for others.  This kid's a real gem--a diamond--let's let her sparkle!