Contagious Courage
Cruelty and unkindness hurt my heart. And with an inundating loop of news stories, it is too easy to viscerally react, or somehow feel at the mercy of. And a part of me wants to shut down.
“Courage is one of the most contagious things you can imagine.” John Meacham said in an interview this week.
Yes. But what does courage look like? And please tell me, what can I do?
Sometimes we need stories more than food to stay alive. Stories about profiles in courage, that remind us what really matters, and allow us to see with our heart.
On June 11, 1963, history was made when James Hood and Vivian Malone walked through two white wood doors at Foster Auditorium to enroll at the University of Alabama, the first African American students in the school’s history.
Their action proved all the more courageous, given that they needed to pass the Governor himself as he stood in that doorway, defiant in his intolerance and the fanaticism that still reverberated from his inaugural address, “Segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever!” said Governor George Wallace.
I cannot imagine their courage, or their fear. I can imagine that they shook more than just a little on the inside, and wondered, if only fleetingly, “Is it worth it? Maybe, this is a good time to turn around.”
And not that many years ago, I walked past those ordinary white wood doors—now enshrined in the lobby of the renovated Foster Auditorium—into a gymnasium with fellow pilgrims to hear the words of Dr. Sharon Malone (Vivian Malone’s sister) and Peggy Wallace Kennedy (the daughter of Governor George Wallace).
Diminutive in stature, Peggy is still youthful and carries a Southern grace in her face and demeanor. I had no expectations for her address (save for my skepticism radar in all matters having to do with the heart and reconciliation).
In story form she took me to a swing-set outside a family home where a 13-year-old girl swung, unaware of the fateful remarks made by her father, a 13-year-old girl who would grow up pondering and wrestling with what it would mean to live under the shadow of her father’s words.
While her story is a long way from that of a nine-year-old boy in rural Michigan, we did have one thing in common: the realization that just because a parent lives from certain script, it does not mean that script is binding to the child. At some point in her life Peggy Wallace Kennedy knew that she could choose her path, choose her script, and that she must stand where her father stood with her own son as a testament to change, to bear witness as to why she chose to say “NO” to exclusion, and “YES” to the need to protect the least among us.
“So today I rise,” she told us in the gymnasium. “Today I rise to stand in the schoolhouse door. Every day I rise… to speak to a child. To comfort a parent. To offer a hand. To enable justice.”
The doors she walked through were not literal, but very real nonetheless.
And here’s the deal: each and every one of us fashions a life by the choices we honor—or more fundamentally, by the doors we open, and the doors we close.
However, we must first open that door to our self, our own refueling, replenishment and rebirth. Only then do we realize that when we walk through that door, we say No to resentment and self-righteousness, and fear and indifference, and numbness and hopelessness, and hatred and despair.
“Count me in,” I say, knowing full well that this will be easier said than done. Because, I tell myself, courage is not easy to come by.
When I was young, it was essential to verbally affirm your beliefs as a Christian. “I believe…” And yet; when and where there were opportunities to push back, when I saw people who were mistreated, or victimized, or demeaned, and I didn’t step up or step in, how is that an affirmation of my “beliefs”?
I can tell you that I deeply regret those choices. Saying nothing is also a choice. Thinking that my life was safe (sheltered) without having to “get involved” is also a choice.
So. Where will we go from here?
We can’t look away. We do have the power to make a stand—to speak out—for equality, mercy, compassion and human dignity and justice, even if it feels uncomfortable, because silence only allows hate to grow.
We can create…
Bridges for reconciliation and second chances and peace making.
Roads for mercy and generosity and justice.
Bandages for wounds and fractured spirits and broken hearts.
Sanctuaries for safety and prayer and hope.
Let us stay connected to our hearts. To a place where empathy and compassion are the compass to true north.
I was so grateful for this from David Brooks column this week in the NYT. “Many great moral traditions have always stood against paganism and rebutted it. If paganism stands for manly dominance, Judaism, for example, stands for piety, learning and strictness of conscience. Think of the words so highly valued in Jewish life: chesed (loving kindness), simcha (joy, especially communal joy), anavah (humility), tzedek (justice and charity), limud (study and learning) and kedushah (holiness). Those words lift us up to an entirely different moral realm…
For the Romans, the cross was a symbol of their power — their power to crucify. The early Christians took the cross as their symbol, too, but as a symbol for compassion, grace and self-sacrificial love. Christianity is built on a series of inversions that make paganism look pompous and soulless: Blessed are the meek. Blessed are the poor in spirit. The last shall be first. The poor are closer to God than the rich. Jesus was perpetually performing outrageous acts of radical generosity, without calculating the cost.”
And this I know my friends: We are walking each other home. And I am so grateful you are a part of Sabbath Moment.
I write this after Choral Evensong at St. Mary Le Strand (London). And the choir was indeed heavenly, and very good for the spirit and soul.
Tomorrow I will be on a plane heading back home to the PNW, very grateful for a month of heart replenishment.
Quote for our week… “You many think I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one… someday you’ll join us.” John Lennon
BULLETIN BOARD
Today’s Photo Credit: My final photo from England. Hawthorn bloom. Along the drive through the Cotswolds toward London, there is a ubiquitous explosion of blossoms–on the trees and hedgerow. Considered a common plant, and yet, alive and life-giving, literally teeming with wildlife from bugs to birds. And I love this: the primary spiritual benefit of Hawthorn Berries lies in their connection to the heart chakra, the energy center responsible for love, compassion, and emotional healing… And thank you to all, I love your photos… please, keep sending them… send to terryhershey.com
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Letters that do my heart good…
–Thank you Terry for the constant reminder of living life to the fullest! Loretta
–Terry, I look forward to Sabbath Moment every Monday to start my week. I use my voice of mercy every Monday as I call a group that I call “my old ladies” (ages 70-89). Hopefully, they in turn use their voice of mercy to call others. Thanks for being a catalyst in today’s need for mercy. Tucker
–Thank you for this beautiful message today. I just hugged a friend that’s gone through so much in the last few years and is recovering from cancer. He looked weak and frail from all his surgeries. I hadn’t seen him for some time and when I hugged him, I held him tight. I just wanted him to know how special he is. Carol
–Dear Terry, Thank you for your beautiful words this week regarding Pope Francis and Mercy. I too, like so many, have been journeying with you through these Sabbath Moments. I am very grateful for your wisdom and gentle pastoring heart. Coming to terms with life’s realities, tribulations and joys. Pondering the suffering servant. Accepting. The Cotswolds. Wow. Peace in Christ, Marion
–You speak from your heart, opening yourself up to the reader and listener. You let us know we are not alone in our brokenness. You try daily to instill in us, with your God given gift of words, the ability to realize that we have the strength to reach out to others in Mercy. There are so many in need. You tell us that you write Sabbath Moment because you want to live with a “soft heart”. You have already
accomplished that. We thank God for the gifts you share with us daily. Love, Elaine
