Room in the Inn--Sorta

JrWooley6 / flickr

Maybe you read the story of the bathrobe drama at church. I think I read it first in Guideposts years ago. As Mary and Joseph stumbled to find their places on stage nobody was more enchanted by that night than little Wally. He stood in the wings waiting his turn. He was the innkeeper in the play--dumbfounded by the wonder of it all.

Joseph and Mary walked in and knocked on the door of the inn. Joseph knocked hard as Wally, the innkeeper was there, waiting. "What do you "want? Wally asked, swinging the door open. "We seek lodging," Joseph said. Wally spoke vigorously, "Seek it elsewhere. The inn is filled."

Joseph persisted, "Sir we have asked everywhere in vain. We have traveled a long way and are very weary." Wally shook his head. "There is no room in this inn for you."

Joseph was unrelenting. "Please, good innkeeper, this is my wife. She is heavy with child and needs a a place to rest. Surely you must have some small corner for her. She is so tired."  Now for the first time the innkeeper looked down at Mary. There was a long pause and the audience wondered what would come next. No one said a word.

The Prompter backstage grew nervous. She whispered, "Say: No! Begone!'  Wally said, "No!" and then added, "Begone!" Joseph laced his arm around Mary and slowly began to move away. The innkeeper just stood there watching the forlorn couple. His mouth was open but no words came.  But there were tears in his eyes.

And suddenly the pageant took a different turn. Wally spoke, "Don't go Joseph. Don't go. Bring Mary back." With a great smile Wally said,  "You can have my room." The audience broke up. Some left the program thinking the play had been ruined. Yet there were others that thought this was the best Christmas pageant they had ever seen.

As I thought about all those refugees fleeing Syria for their lives, I suddenly remembered Wally and his story. And just this morning I picked up yesterday's New York Times and read about Kamal, age 33, refugee from Syria. He is struggling to find a place for his family and himself in Texas. Read it. We Americans need to listen to the human side of the refugee crisis. Maybe if we ponder the reality of the enormous needs laid at our doorstep--we, like Wally might just begin to say: "You can have my room."

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

Christmas Musings

photo by David Wright / flickr

It's Christmas morning. My house in a nice neighborhood is quiet. Music fills my house. The Christmas trees are lighted--yes two trees I got carried away. Meanwhile outside the house down the street people with little sacks move form the grocery store down the street . They have no car. At Hardee's this morning a slender man covered in tattoos brings in a cake and gives it to one of the workers. "It's vanilla" he says as he smiles. Some of the politicians are growling, "we've got to take our country back." To where pray tell.

All this silly talk about political correctness--spoken with a sneer is strange. Worrying about Happy Hilidays and messages on Starbucks cups. Wired thinking. Last night our family sat together at our Christmas Eve service. The church was packed. On the second row was a Mother and Father that buried their thirty-something the day before. As the Bread was broken and the cup poured we one by one walked to the table. Talk about political correctness. There we were Republicans and Democrats and the who cares. There were blacks and Chinese and women with tattoos on their necks. One man hobbled to the front with his cane. Young couples with children. An old woman living alone came to the Table. The little man whose wife with Alzheimer's not knowing him made his way to the front. There were kids and proud old parents sitting with grown kids from all over. One by one we came. With a common need. We were all hungry for something. Acceptance. Love. Hoping to start over. Maybe just to get through the day without falling down.

Yes the world outside the doors was complicated and hard. So much going the wrong way. Yet we
last night like pilgrims from all over streamed down some aisle. We've been doing this for hundreds of years. One of the root words for faith is rope. I love that word. Rope. To hold on to. To pull us through. To just survive or make it. Maybe the old fashioned word save us.

The tree will come down soon. We'll consign the Christmas music to the back of the stacks. We'll put up a new calendar. We don't know what this new year will bring. But we have this slender rope. And remembering last night and the trail of need and hunger that walked to a table we will remember on the hard cold days ahead. And we will go on.

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

It's Christmas!

(For years I keep coming back to one of my Christmas memories. I have printed it in several newspapers and a couple of Christmas blogs.)

High up on our Christmas tree, near the top, if you look closely you may see it. If you don’t squint your eyes and look carefully you’ll probably miss it entirely. I’m talking about the star. 

It may be the tiniest ornament on the tree. The little star is probably an inch and a half in diameter. The star was made in the church kitchen by a little girl and her Sunday school teacher over forty years ago in Southside Virginia. 

Every year, without fail she breezes into the house with her own two daughters. After lugging in suitcases, pillows and presents she always moves toward the Christmas tree in the corner. She asks the same question year after year. “Where’s the star?” Christmas would not be Christmas without that star. I used to think it was a foolish request hanging on to that old homemade star. But I have changed my mind.

We all need some ties to back there. We need some stack pole of remembering that sends us back, back toward yesterday and the past and our roots. What’s your star? Probably not a paste ornament. What is it that calls you back to what used to be with a tug and a pull that is almost magic? I have a buddy who keeps high on a shelf an old threadbare teddy bear. Some of the stuffing is missing and one eye has been lost. His Daddy bought it for him at the fair one time. They stood there looking at the wonderful stuffed animals and he pointed and his Daddy shook his head. The little boy burst into tears and snubbed and snubbed. Finally the Father sighed took out his billfold and handed the clerk the money. His Daddy has been dead for more than thirty years, yet that teddy bare are one of his most precious possessions. I have another friend, long gone now, that kept an old pouch of chewing tobacco pinned to the bookcase behind his desk.  He told me he grew up in this little tiny cotton mill village and smoke breaks were few and far between. Almost everybody then chewed tobacco in the mill.  The man has written a score of books. He taught hundreds of students. And he always kept a pouch of chewing tobacco as a reminder of how far he had come and how grateful he was. Five years ago I stopped by to see the old black lady that we would now call a Nanny. She kept my brother and me for years and loved us fiercely. As I started to leave she told me she wanted to show me something. She opened a dresser drawer and pulled out something wrapped in tissue paper. She unfolded the yellowing paper and held up a slip. “Miz Ruth give me this slip. She always gave me the nicest presents.” She had never worn it but she kept it and remembered. 

Christmas is a time for stirring memories. Silver Bells. Silent Night. Santa Claus is coming to town. I’m dreaming of a white Christmas. O Come All Ye Faithful. But this season is much, much more. The faces loom up before us. Names of those long dead get mixed up with fun-filled times from our crowded pasts. Christmas is a remembering time.

Some of us hang the symbols of our memories on a Christmas tree. Some pack them away in tissue paper. Some place these mementoes carefully in a jewelry box and open it up from time to time and just smile. Some of us just keep our treasures tucked away in our hearts. 

“Where’s the star?” Good question. Unpack it gently. Hang it high in your own way. And remember. Remember Remember.

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

Open Letter to the United States at Christmas

Syrian refugee breaks out in tears of joy arriving in Greece
photo by Oguzhou Ali / flickr

"To an open house in the evening

Home shall all come,

To an older place than Eden

And a taller town than Rome;

To the end of the way of the wandering star,

To the things that cannot be and that are,

To the place where God was homeless

And all people are at home."

--G.K. Chesterton

"In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own town to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. Hyde went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn." Luke 2. 1-7

(You might want to read Roger Cohen's splendid article in the New York Times on what Germany is doing to receive refugees from Syria.)

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

Talking to Muslims at Christmastime

 photo by quixotic54 / flickr

After hearing all this disturbing talk directed at Muslims—I wanted to see how our neighbors of the Muslim faith felt about all this hate. Identifying all Muslims with the terrorists that have caused so much havoc in California. I wanted them to speak about this turning away all Muslims to the US. Asking visitors if they are Muslim or Christian. Closing Mosques. Monitoring services in Mosques. Refusing to take any refugees from Syria. So I scheduled an appointment with the local IMAM and the President of the local Islamic Center of Clemson.

The President of the Islamic society told me he had been in this country for 40 years. He served in the United States Air Force for 22 years. He is the father of three grown children which grew up in the United States. They are all citizens of this country.

The IMAM has been in Clemson three years. He came here from Egypt and this was his first charge in America. He has been the leader of the Islamic Center in Clemson for three years.

Roger: I want you all to know how distressed I have been over all this anti-Muslim rhetoric I have heard lately. This is not my idea of America. Our Constitution says “liberty and justice for all” and I believe that. Yet—I see certain segments of our population that are scared to death of Muslim terrorists. I can understand this fear—and yet we cannot paint all Muslims with the same brush. 

President: Thank you for coming. When we hear all this anti-Muslim talk it disturbs us deeply. What these people say is not who we are. We strongly condemned the terrorist action in San Bernardino and Paris as much as anybody. They don’t represent us or our religion. These actions by the few tarnish Muslims in general and Islam in particular. The majority of us are peace loving just like most  other American citizens.

Roger: Tell me about how many Muslims there are in the United States. And in your community too.

IMAM: We have a congregation in Clemson of 300 people. We worship on Friday afternoons. I preach a sermon and this is followed by our weekly prayer time. Sometimes we have as many as 150 people attending our services. 75% would be men and 25% women. We have been a part of this community since 2000. In the United States it is estimated that there are six to eight million members of our faith. We also have over 80 Muslim students  at Clemson University and we have a small worship place at the University.

President: I was in the service for 22 great years. The Armed Forces, especially the Air Force is the ideal place for acceptance and equality. Discrimination is against the law and is not tolerated by any member of the Armed Forces. Those who discriminate would be punished. I really wish our whole country had the same attitude, understanding and acceptance for all its members.  It is estimated that we have about 10,000 Muslims in the different branches of the US Military. Many of them gave their lives defending the United States in the Afghan-Iraqi wars.

Roger: We have had all this talk about Muslims and terrorists. How has this affected your people?

IMAM: Our people are afraid. Muslim ladies especially.are very scared to go shopping by themselves like they used to do. They are afraid that someone might act violently due to all the rhetoric and hate statements from our presidential candidates. I would like to convey to the general public the words from Luke 1:13: “But the angel said, “ Do not be afraid, Zechariah! God has heard your prayer.” The American people should not fear us; we all stand together to defeat this atrocious enemy. 

Roger: What the children in school? Have they felt this animosity too?

President: There have been incidents when some students will say to our children:  “Why don’t you leave? You’re not a real American. We don’t want you here.” It just breaks our hearts and the hearts of our children to to hear such statements; we are all Americans, ISIS killed more Muslims than all other religions combined.

Roger: This is appalling. My whole understanding of America is a place where people are safe. So many have fled so many places because they lived in danger. Many students and families come here seeking a better life. And for good, decent people to feel afraid and uncomfortable in the United States  is just heart-rending. These terrible attitudes do not reflect the American way. But I would remind you that America being a democracy where all can speak has has some bad days in our history. Native Americans, slaves, Irish, Poles, Jews, Italians have all felt the sting of our prejudice from time to time. But we have come a long way. Now it looks like the Muslims are our target.

President: I know that the actions of some Americans do not reflect the feeling and attitude of everyone. It is hard for many of us to live up to our ideals our faith. But we must respect the law of the land; the Constitution; we must never forget the words engraved at the Statue of Liberty: “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses, yearning to breath free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, Send these, the homeless, tempest toss’t to me…” These are the words that they were dreaming they would hear when they reach the safety of our shores.

Roger: I’m wondering about ISIS. Beheadings, terrible treatment of women, destroying whole cultures. Forcing people into a narrow kind of servitude. Killing Christians. What do you say to these?

IMAM: We decry ISIS as much as you do. You know there are groups that bend the faith and distort its teachings until it is hardly recognized by us Muslims. Their actions are not part of the teachings of Islam. Their hatred and destruction is not part of any faith and shouldn’t be condoned by any human beings regardless of their faith.

Roger: Tell me the essence of your faith. You say you totally disagree with ISIS and terrorists. What do you believe? 

President: The essence of Islam is obeying God., the Prophet Muhammed, the law of the land, and respect for human lives.

IMAM: The essence of our faith is Glory to God. The great words of Islam are Peace and love and submission to God. God says in the Quran chapter 49 verse 13:” O ye men! surely We have created you male and a female, and made you tribes and families that you may know each other; surely the most honorable of you with Allah is the one among you most careful (of his duty); surely Allah is Knowing. Aware.”

Roger: If you had a microphone and could speak to all the people in our area—what would you say?

President:  I would say Fear God. Do not give in to hate. Treat us in the Christian way “treat us the way you want to be treated.” the way you want to be treated”. Remember the words of your Jesus: “Inasmuch as you do it unto the least of these you do it to me.” I would say: Follow your wonderful Constitution. Love and respect all people.

Roger: I want to thank you both for taking this time and especially opening up your hearts. When people begin to realize that we are all just alike with the same hopes and dreams maybe that peace we all long for will become more of a reality.

(You might want to read Samuel Freedman's article in the NYTimes on how one Muslm woman has faced bigotry in New Brunswick, New Jersey).

photo by vipez / flickr

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

Christmas Comes to A Prison

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photo by sushieque / flickr

We sometimes forget that Christmas can come anywhere--especially in those unexpected places where God sometimes does His best work. This story was told to my Liz Smith years ago. It his about her experience in a woman's Prison in Columbia, South Carolina. Liz left us almost two years ago and I miss her much. She was a Mama. A wife. A Grandmother. South Caroolina Teachere of the year--in Art no less. And a whole lot more. 

Liz Smith lived in Columbia, South Carolina for a while.  It seems that her Sunday School class decided to do something for the prisoners at the Harbison Women's Prison outside Columbia. So Liz got her Sunday School Department to buy, wrap and label all the presents according the prison regulations. She decided to deposit them to the prison authorities and be on her way. But the Warden suggested that she stay a few minutes and meet the prisoners. The gifts would be given to those who received no mail or presents. She was searched and then the great iron doors admitted her and closed behind her.

Inside one of the first people she gave a gift to a black woman named Geneva. Geneva right off the bat asked Liz to be her invited guest at the annual Christmas pageant that would be held the next week. Liz didn't want to go. She was busy. And her shopping was not done. And she was having drop-in and it just wasn't a good time. But kept looking at Geneva knowing the woman had no one else. And she nodded that she would be there.

And so, on the Sunday before Christmas Liz found herself in a long line of cars that had turned into the prison gates. Showing her pass, she was led through several doors and corridors and then into a small auditorium . She looked around at the strangest assortment of people. Old, wrinkled family members. Middle age people. Some very young. There were little children, and of course, some crying babies. A few were dressed in fur coats and some in overalls. They were white and black. And Liz said the smells were what she remembered. Loud, cheap perfume, some expensive stuff and the odor of the human body. On the stage there was a makeshift cardboard stable decorated with pine boughs. In the center there was a manger made from an orange crate nailed to wooden legs. 

Suddenly, a large black lady, enveloped in a white choir robe and a red bow appeared from the side door and went to the old upright piano at stage left. She began to rustle through the music and the crowd began to quiet down. All talking stopped as the pianist began to play "Away in a Manger" with a real gospel beat. A host of black and white angels dressed in white sheets with coat-hanger wings came and took their places behind the manger. They began whispering and then suddenly gathered together around the manger.  One angel flew offstage and returned quickly. After circling the manger once, they returned to their original positions. Later Liz said she learned that somebody had forgotten to put the baby Jesus in the manger. An angel had been sent to get the baby doll.  The others were trying to act cool and cover it up.

Mary and Joseph came on stage and positioned themselves and Liz said she was in shock. The pretty little blonde teenager that looked so much like Liz' own daughter was playing Mary. Liz remembered Mary was serving time as an accessory to the murder of a highway patrolman in Myrtle Beach. Joseph, with a fake beard, was another one of the female prisoners.

The strains of "While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night" came loudly from the piano. And the white-sheeted shepherds with walking sticks as crooks came down the aisle to worship the Christ child. They knelt with great dignity in front of the manger.

There was a pause in the music and everybody could hear the sound of turning pages. Finally, the piano started again, "We Three Kings of Orient Are." They marched down the aisle bearing perfume bottles and a small jewelry box. In the very middle was Geneva--who found Liz and gave her a big smile and wave as she found her place. A child on the front row stood up as the wise men took their places and yelled: "There's mama."

After they had presented their gifts and the angels sang, lustily, "Joy to the World," the formal part of the pageant was over and the audience clapped loud and long. Then the program director came up to the stage and asked everybody to stand and sing "Silent Night." And they all began to sing. But by the middle stanza--there wasn't much singing. Everybody was crying. Holding back the tears. Wiping their eyes as the pianist played on and on.

Why were they crying? Why do you think they were crying? Prisoners and matrons, invited guests, family members and old people. Why were they crying?  I think I know. I think I know. 

And in the region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by      night

And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear.

And the angel said to them, "Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people..."

I remember what Liz said as she finished her story: "And that's why we were all crying."

photo by Mary Constance / flickr

--RogerLovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

Christmas Cancels Fear

This Christmas comes at the right time. There was one theme running through that first Christmas. Zechariah heard it. Elizabeth heard it. Mary heard it. Joseph heard it. Shepherds on windy hillsides heard it. Wise Men from far away heard it. Two little words: “Fear not.”

Sometimes it was three words: “Be not afraid.” That was the essence of that first Christmas. Strange words. The world was awash in hatred and injustice. Rome ruled their land with an iron hand. Every male child under two was murdered by Herod’s command. There was no room in any inn unless you were wealthy. It was a dark time. And it was a hard world. And this was the setting of those unlikely words: “Fear not.”

Our country needs to her those words. “Fear not.” Someone has said there is more fear among us than there was after September 11th. Strange. Gun sales are going through the roof. Assault rifles especially. Political candidates are fanning the fear flames. Pundits on TV of all persuasions tell us over and over that this is a troubled time and we are besieged. The social media whether it be Facebook or Twitter and all those others have not helped. They keep saying: Everything nailed down is coming loose. Fearful people need a scapegoat. Yesterday it was the Samaritans and other outsiders. It was the Jews, not once but again and again. It was the Indians and the Irish and the Italians and people from the Orient. It was Yankees or Southerners—take your choice. Sadly now it is still the poor and the gays and the non-Christians, the Hispanics and a multitude of refugees. Towering above them all are those hated words—Muslim and ISIS. As if they were synonymous. Churches as a whole have sung carols and told stories about no room in the inn—not even thinking about the implications today. Those politician that yell the loudest and spew out the most hate seem to be drawing most of the crowds. Have we lost our minds or our courage or especially our faith? Dangerously these rivals for President are fanning the flames of hate and many have bought into the message.

Christmas calls us back to a better way. ”Fear not” the angel said over and over. What can those simple words from a far-distant time and land teach us? Someone has said that Paul talked about faith and hope and love—and love was the greatest thing in the world. No, someone else wrote: Hope is the greatest thing in the world. She may be right. Hope shatters fear. But so does faith and love.

Let us recover from amnesia. We are not the first people who have faced hard times. In fact, looking back at our own history we have been here before. Coming across the water hoping to find freedom and safety. Wars with England. Slavery. The Civil War leave 500,000 dead. Lynchings. Incarcerating Japanese. Segregation with our dogs and water hoses and billy clubs. War over and over. Deacons standing in church doors and shaking their heads to blacks. Let us remember that, as the old song goes, we really have come “through dangers, toils and snares.” And we must not forget that there really is a grace that is amazing for any  age—and that grace can still led us home. 

So this Christmas let us listen closely to what the angel said: “Fear not.” “Be not afraid.”  No Pollyanna talk. No evading the harshness of our world. No sunny optimism. Just knowing that in the middle of a trying time—fear really is not the answer. 

Last fall my family and I wandered into a restaurant in downtown Philadelphia. There was a room with a fireplace and a bar. And over the mantle these words were carved in wood and painted a golden color. They read:

                                       “Fear knocked at the door

                                       Faith answered. 

                                       There was no one there.”

I like to think that someone sitting there trying to drown their sorrows looked over their shoulder at these words. And I hope that all those servers with sore feet working mostly for tips would stop long enough from their busy-ness to ponder the words. And I can even envision the hungry customers, coming in out of the cold, warming their hands at the fireplace and reading the hopeful words: Fear knocked at the door, Faith answered, There was no one there.” 

And I would like all of us to remember the message is still “Fear not.” Which means it isn’t guns and it isn’t money and it isn’t some political candidates spewing out words of hate. No. It is faith. A very stubborn faith that remembers a harsh world and a dark night and a mad King. But more. A light that shone in the darkness. A light that the darkness can never put out. Then or now. Is it any wonder the angels said over and over: “Fear not.” “Be not afraid.”  

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com