By Roger Barbee
This morning as I prepared my
stationary bike for my ride in the damp, dark morning, I noticed our front spot
light was still on and made a mental note to turn it off after my ride.
Mounting the bike, I hoped that I would remember.
Growing up in the 1950s of the South,
all the mill houses, like ours at 312, had front porches that ran the width of
the house. Chairs of various types would always be available for relaxing, and
often porch swings hung by their chains from brackets in the porch ceiling,
comfortably accommodated two adults or four playful children. Always painted
white, the swings waited for a family member or members to “sit a spell” and
rest or visit with a neighbor who happened by. After dark, they sometimes held
young lovers who pushed gently back and forth whispering, snuggling, and maybe
kissing—until a parent in the house turned the porch light on as a signal that
it was time for the boy to leave and the girl to come into the house.
The porch light of 312, where I grew
up, was a bare bulb screwed into a white, porcelain fixture. Usually white, the
25 or maybe 40-watt bulb, would be replaced by a yellow one during the hot
months because mosquitoes and other unwanted bugs would not be as attracted to
it as the white ones. Because the houses had no air conditioning the front
porch became an extension of sorts for the family or living room where the
cooler temperature of a hot summer day could be enjoyed. The dim, porch lights
were turned on at dusk and turned off at dawn. Not as majestic as a lighthouse
beacon, they served the same purpose- to guide sojourners by their 25-watt
bulbs. Those bare bulbs led family and
visitors through the dark and into the house.
I did, for once, remember to turn
the front spot-light off following my ride. The back one, which illuminates the
kitchen area, was turned off earlier. Our house, like all in our neighborhood
and most neighborhoods today, has no front porch or, at best, has an outside
vestibule large enough to stand while unlocking the front door. Modern homes
are mostly built far from roads making contact with passers-by impossible, and
the climate controlling system in each makes the desire for outside cooler air
during hot, humid Southern nights obsolete. But modern homes have improved on
the dim porch lights of post WWII America. Like ours, all or most, have
spot-lights that come in several models, wattage, and other choices. Ours are
operated by a switch in the house, but we could have ones that are motion
detector controlled, dawn to dusk controlled, cell phone controlled, or with other
systems. But the porch lights of today are installed for other reasons than the
types I grew up with.
The modern porch light is designed
to repel. It is a beacon, but one that shouts, “Go away, or the house alarms
will signal the police to quickly come.” It does not invite the sojourner but
is a Maginot line sold to make us feel safer.
There was a time in our lives that
such home defenses were not needed, but those days slipped away. We now live in
a culture of home invasion, purse snatching, and more. I do not fault
homeowners for protecting their homes and family, but I question why our
society has fallen to such a level that some are so brazen to invade a home or
snatch the purse of an elderly woman in broad daylight. What bred in some
people such bitterness that led to desperation then vile action?
Just as with the outside lights, I
am like many people. But instead of lights, I am thinking about The Sermon on the Mount, which before
this week I would have assured you that I had a solid understanding of, until I
began reading Clarence Jordon’s explication. In Matthew 5:22, Jesus says, “
Whereas I say to you that everyone who becomes angry with his brother shall be
liable to judgment; and whoever says ‘Raca’ to his brother shall be liable to
the Council.; and whoever says ‘worthless reprobate’ shall be liable to enter
Hinnon’s Vale of fire.” (Hart)
These are strong words that cause me
to wonder if one reason we feel a need for stronger porch lights and such, is,
as Christians (individually or collectively), we have shouted “Raca” to many of
our citizens? Have we and do we look at Christian brothers/sisters and think
“worthless reprobate”? If so, then we
have marginalized our fellow Christians and are in danger of being cast into
Gehenna, regardless of our porch lights and alarm systems.
