Roger Barbee

By Roger Barbee

 I was flying from Myrtle Beach back to home, and I had a connection to make in Charlotte.  As it seems to happen at times, I landed at gate D-20 something and had about 30 minutes to get across the airport to gate A-something. And, I am the first on a plane, but the last off. So, my connection time was shortened. However, after I de-planed, I gathered my two bags, placed them on my knees, and began quickly to cross Douglass Airport.

The concourses at Charlotte are connected by a rather steep, carpeted, and long ramp which I had managed before on trips. However, this time I had two bulky gym bags riding on my legs.  I hit the ramp with speed and was powering up quite well, and then the top bag began to slide, and before I recovered, the bottom bag began to go with it. As I tried to adjust them with one hand, my wheelchair began to turn sideways, and I was running out of time. I had a connection to make and this mess was going to cause me delay. As I leaned into the ramp, trying to hold the bags with my chest while pumping to get all the way to the top, I felt two hands take control of my chair and a strong voice said, “I got you.” Someone had taken control of my situation and before I knew it, I was on the level hub and the same voice said, “You got it now?” And before I could turn and say “Thank you”, he melted into the crowd, going back the way he had been headed.

As I think of the Cruxification and the latter words of Jesus, “I thirst”, I think of my experience. No, I was not suffering like Jesus, but I was in distress and an angel came out of the crowd and took control for me and gave me relief from my thirst. We thirst for many things in this life. Sometimes we thirst for knowledge and wisdom, sometimes we thirst for friendship, or love, or any number of things. And, sometimes we may thirst but not be aware of it, and I hope that you may have an angel come out of the crowd and satisfy your thirst.

By Roger Barbee

David McCullough’s The American Spirit is a timely read. A 2017 collection of fifteen of his speeches covering several years and settings, it is timely because its sub-title, Who We Are and What We Stand For is a reminder that 2022 is a good time to re-examine our character.

The selected speeches scan from 1989 to 2016 and were delivered at the White House and the United States Capitol and Monticello and other such settings, but, as fitting for a scholar like McCullough, most were shared at colleges and universities. As expected, each speech gave some history of the occasion, information about some of the people behind the occasion, and as he writes in the introduction, he always came away from each speaking date “with my outlook greatly restored, having seen, again and again, long-standing American values still firmly in place, good people involved in joint efforts to accomplish changes for the better, the American spirit still at work.” But, best of all, he gives a lesson or lessons in each speech.

 At Hillsdale College in 2005, for instance, he quotes Daniel Boorstin, Barbara Tuchman, E.M. Forster,  John and Abigail Adams, and speaks of such Signers as Benjamin Rush. Not surprisingly, all of his words are spoken from his love and appreciation of our history, which he implores us to learn. He shares how his friend Daniel Boorstin thought that “trying to plan for the future without a sense of the past is like trying to plant cut flowers”,  and he cautions us that, “Citizenship isn’t just voting.” And he shows us how to be more than just voting citizens.

“Read. Read, read!” A command from a fellow citizen who knows the necessity of being informed.

Now, I am sure that when McCullough delivered these speeches he was thinking of our secular citizenship and the debt we owe our country. He is correct that a good citizen does more than vote in every election cycle. A good citizen reads and studies and thinks of history and the events and people who came before. And a good citizen understands that those folks were like us-fallible humans.

But McCullough’s words are applicable to another citizenship role in many of our lives—the role of citizenship in Christ. Just as we are told to read our secular history, we need to read and study not only the Bible but other sources concerning Christianity.  Read the histories of Jesus’ world and better understand the forces He encountered. Read modern day Christian writers such as Clarence Jordan, Howard Thurman, C.S. Lewis, Samuel Wells, A.W. Tozer, or any number of the good writers available. Their words are reminders of how a Christian life should be lived, and when attending Sunday service do not act and think like the secular voter McCullough warns us against who believes that showing up is all that is required.

McCullough tells us that being a citizen requires more than voting just as Jesus tells us that being a Christ Follower requires more than sitting in a pew on Sunday.  Both citizenships require action: Acts of study, thought, and deeds. Anything short is false.

By Roger Barbee

The Gospels and Rome

Jesus and the Empire of God

Warren Carter

Cascade Books, 2021

Carter wastes no time in explaining his use of cultural intertextuality avenue for reading and studying the Gospels. He reminds us that Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John composed while Rome ruled: “The empire does not disappear from the Gospels just because an emperor or  governor or soldier or tax is not mentioned.” He then uses selected Gospel texts alongside Roman texts to create an opportunity for the reader to “make meaning in the intersections among them.”

Intertextuality is an interesting way to read the Gospels and while I had unknowingly done it in the past, I had not been aware of its wide range. For instance, one of the Gospel stories that Carter uses is the scene where Jesus instructs two disciples to go into Jerusalem and they will find a donkey with here colt tied. If asked, the disciples are to say that the Master needs them. Jesus then rides the donkey into Jerusalem.

Carter shows how this well-known arrival by Jesus, where he is greeted by the screaming crown, is like the manner a Roman ruler or victorious general would enter a city.  He cites many historical accounts to support and then compare the entry of Jesus with that of Augustus, Gaius, and Titus into Rome or other locations.

I enjoyed Carter’s examination of the Gospels by intertextuality because it directly shows the Roman world that Jesus lived in with all its problems: “Rome-sanctioned, Jerusalem-based local leaders, pervasive sickness, food insecurity, occupied territory, language of sovereignty, fantasies of revenge, and visions of a new and just world all interact with Roman imperial structures and [practices.” Carter in those words shows us the world in which Jesus walked and preached. It should give us encouragement for the world we face.

By Roger Barbee

  My first Frederick Buechner arrived this week;  Speak What We Feel (Not What We Ought to Say)  is his reflections on literature and faith.                                                                                                         

Now, I have always been a reader. Not a good student, it is my reading that helped me salvage my academic and intellectual self. Because of my reading I managed to attend college and even read through to obtain an MA. My modest library contains books about literature, biographies of writers and other leaders, examinations of religion, political studies, investigations of nature, and more. As a life-long learner, I subscribe to the words of Abigail Adams quoted by David McCullough in his 2008 speech at Boston College’s commencement: “Learning is not attained by chance. It must be sought with ardor and attended with diligence.” McCullough goes on to tell the graduates to “Read! Read, read…. Read for pleasure, to be sure. But take seriously-read closely-books that have stood the test of time.” Those are words I followed, taught my students, and still follow in my retirement. And I especially like Adams’ use of ardor and diligence. However, I share my reading history not out of arrogance, but so that the reader can better appreciate my feelings when a good friend recently asked me had I read Buechner. My friend, also a retired educator with whom I worked, shared with me how Buchner had influenced his teaching, faith, and life. Interested, I later typed in Frederick Buechner on the Internet search engine only to read that he had died a few days before. I read of  his peaceful death at an advanced age, but I was swept away by the tributes to and the deeply felt appreciations of such a writer/thinker that I only had not read, but one of whom I had never heard. I wondered, as I read, exactly where had I been while Frederick Buechner was being such an influencer of all kinds of folks. Feeling ignorant and a bit self-cheated, I ordered two books—the one mentioned above and my friend’s favorite, Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC.

          To the present, I have only read the first two writers Buechner reflects on in Speak, Gerard Manley Hopkins and Mark Twain. His reflections of the writers at first encouraged me to rush on into this thinker’s words. Yet, reading a sentence such as the following one he writes to describe Hopkins cautions me: “Again and again Hopkins chooses words open to so many interpretations that, like prisms when the light touches them, they cast across the page a whole spectrum of possible meanings.” That is a sentence to chew, taste, and savor for what it says and how it says it. If you doubt Buechner’s insight, read The Windhover and then wonder at his depth of compassion that leads to  his deep understanding for Hopkins and Twain.

I look forward to reading and studying Buechner in the same manner that Abigail Adams advises to approach learning–with ardor and diligence.

By Roger Barbee

Many years ago a fellow member of a church I then attended gave me a small piece of paper. As he handed it to me, he said, “I’ve always tried to live this poem.” On the paper was printed “A Better Way”  below which were twelve lines of rhymed poetry. At the bottom of the  page was printed Edgay [sic] A. Guest. While I did not like the poetry in and of itself, I did like the message by Edgar A. Guest.  I tucked the small rectangular piece of paper in my Bible and read it or referred to it often. Recently I even used all twelve lines of A Better Way in an essay. Until yesterday.

Yesterday our pastor used a poem in his weekly message to the congregation. He shared how he had read the poem in the 7^th grade and was influenced by it. The poem he referenced was Live Your Creed by Langston Hughes. My wife noticed the similarities between Guest’s and Hughes’ poems, and she asked me about them. Oh, what I discovered about the poets and me.

 Edgar Guest was born in Birmingham, England in 1881, and his family moved to Detroit, Michigan when he was ten. When his father lost his job, young Edgar worked odd jobs after school and in 1895 was hired as a copy boy for the Detroit Free Press, where he would work for almost sixty-five years. When he was seventeen his father died, and he began working full time for the paper. He slowly worked his way up and his first poem appeared in the paper in 1898, and by 1904 his weekly column, “Chaff” was published. Eventually his verses became the “Breakfast Table Chat” which was syndicated to over 300 United States newspapers.

Guest broadcast a weekly NBC radio program from 1931 to 1942, and in 1951 his show “A guest in Your Home” appeared on NBC television. He published over twenty volumes of poetry and has been called “the poet of the people.” Concerning his poems, he said,   “I take simple everyday things that happen to me and I figure it happens to a lot of other people and I make simple rhymes out of them.”  Edgar Guest died on August 5, 1959.

Now, I was more familiar with Langston Hughes and his poems. I had even taught some of them and admire his work. However, after much looking on the Internet and reading the listed poems in the PDF of The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes, I can find no poem titled Live Your Creed composed by Hughes.  I did find many praises to the poem for its inspiration written by ordinary folks like me, but no references from serious scholars.

The two poems are too similar: The Sermons We See begins: “I’d rather see a sermon than hear one any day”, and Live Your Creed, as quoted by several admirers,  begins: “I’d rather see a sermon than to hear one any day.” One word (in bold) difference. I found that Guest wrote his poem in 1926 and that the poem I had carried all these years was just the first two stanzas of Guest’s four stanza poem and “A Better Way” was not the title. The original poem had been all hacked, and I had blindly accepted the fake. Now I know better, but I still have not found out all I want to know about the poem alluded to Hughes. I now stand corrected and better informed about Guest and will continue reading and searching more about Hughes.

By Roger Barbee

The freedom for college athletes to make money by sponsorship opportunities has begun. While that is an on-going active discussion concerning how being paid through an NIL will affect college sports, some folks are preparing for NIL’s seeping down to high school or even lower athletic programs. One of those folks who is getting prepared for that seepage is Henry Jolly III who has two sons he is packaging in order to take full advantage of the NIL’s. Jolly has created a family logo, “Born to Go Pro” and his sons wear headbands that read “Jolly Boys.” The boys are 9 years old.

According to the Washington Post,  Jolly has taught his boys that everything they do is part of their brand — from the way they play to their shoulder-length brown braids, which their father has made clear must be allowed by any middle school or high school coach recruiting them. He curates their social media feeds, spends hours editing their YouTube highlight videos and sometimes wears a T-shirt he made with the logos of seven youth basketball rankings websites, all of which have rated his sons the top second-graders in the country. The father is quoted, “That’s part of my strategy: Build their name up, build the expectations up, build their skills up, build their bodies up, so that by the time they get to high school, these companies are going to pay them to play. We want to do it as early as possible. I believe we’re going to be the pioneers.”

The seep of money invaded the NCAA during the 1930’s and has, in my opinion, ruined the game. Instead of learning through sport, we now have “How much can I make?” By today, the seepage has slid lower, and we have parents all over the country like Henry Jolly III. While he is free to parent as he wishes, his parenting skills remind me of a meeting some years ago when administrators were discussing possible actions to help a struggling student. As we examined the comments and actions of his father a fellow administrator observed, “To get a dog you need a license, but anyone can have a child.”

A book I read has the  following words: “For the love of money is the root of all evil:…” Sadly, those words are often mis-quoted as “Money is the root of all evil.” If quoted correctly and followed we will view money as what it is- a commodity to be used by us, not use us.

By Roger Barbee

Two articles from last week’s reading resonate with me—one from a religious magazine written by a minister and the other in a major newspaper written by a columnist.

The columnist writes about “feelings of hopelessness and self-hatred [that] can leave you to live with a smoldering rage.” He writes that the problem facing Washington, D.C. is not one of moral failure but “public health problems coming our way at the point of a gun.” He asks, “But what are we doing about what we already know about the forces driving violence?”

The minister shares her need for heaven, but not the heaven “beyond clouds, harps, and chubby baby angels.” She objects to “Our culture’s images of heaven [that] are so saccharine, so sentimental, so boring.”  What she wants is for us to have a heaven with the “possibility of actual peace, reconciliation, and abundance for all.”

Both writers want the same thing—an assurance for a better world, one free from hate, poverty, chronic pain, violence, and more. They both want a world of justice, one full of hope. But how do we give hope to those who suffer from the massive violence of our country-the violence not only of guns, but the violence of injustice, the violence of a low-paying job, the violence of chronic pain, the violence of addiction,  the violence of believing that this is all there is? If we can give citizens hope, then they will more likely be equipped to fight the obstacles of modern-day life.

One writer’s obvious way to combat the ills she faces in her personal and cultural life is her religious faith and “The hope of heaven is the glimmer of steady light that guides and protects me in the valley of  the shadow of death.” Her hope drives her days.

However, the newspaper columnist tells us that “The exposure to violence does something to you.” It is that violence lived and seen daily that probably causes there to be “no hope in the future to drive the day,” so why not gravitate to the easy path of drugs, guns, wanton sex, and alcohol that make life something not cherished but something cheap and expendable?

How do we give hope to such a life as that? We can’t by ways of large government programs. They can help, but we should have learned that large government won’t succeed because we have tried for years to give hope to downtrodden members of our communities through that channel.

I grew up in a single parent household during the segregated south of the 1950’s and 60’s. My mother hemmed washcloths in a cotton mill and reared 6 children. We were poor. We were White. But we were not trashy because our mother demanded of herself and us children. She once told a sister that she, a fine-looking divorced woman, could have spent every weekend at the beach, but she stayed home with her children, doing the hard work of a single parent. She made us go to church, and she had expectations  of us. She parented us. She was not perfect, nor were we, but we all grew into professionals who contributed to society. She showed us “hope in the future to drive the day.”

Governmental programs, as churches and schools,  help individuals succeed. However, when an individual faces the brutality that some of us do each day, that person needs an adult to guide him or her as if lost in a dense forest. A map of that forest is like governmental programs—it can help, but it can’t offer encouragement at each step and turn the same way as that of a guide. The guide not only leads but gives hope, and that kind of hope can only be built from the intimate involvement of an adult who gives unconditional love at each  step on the path through the dense forest. We all need maps, but we also need guides who will help us, not hinder our journey. And the best guides are parents like my mother who did the difficult work of guiding and encouraging.

This kind of hope comes from a belief that there is more to life than what is seen. It comes from a belief that there is something larger than self—call that something whatever suits you, but real hope comes from believing that each of us is a part of a larger existence. This kind of hope will give a future to drive each day.

By Roger Barbee

As a life-long reader I was interested in a recent article in a major, national newspaper that focused on how nine contemporary authors arranged some of their bookshelves. I looked at the photographs and read some of the text. But I became disinterested because I had never even heard of any of the writers much less read any of their books. I pasted a copy of the article to my four sons and two never responded and the other two laughed at (with?) me. So, I placed all the communication about the article in my trash folder and forgot about it until this morning.

My modest library holds a vast range of books that are arranged by topic. The religion shelves hold books by Thomas Merton, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, Elaine Pagels, C.S. Lewis, and other examiners of our spiritual selves. The western section is loaded with Wallace Stegner with many other lovers of that land such as Terry Tempest Williams. The shelves dedicated for Black studies have books by Gloria Naylor, Langston Hughes. Ernest Gaines, and other writers who are brave enough to investigate race in America. The four-tiered lawyer’s bookcase holds prized first editions and some are signed such as the treasured  copy of W.S. Merwin’s last book, Garden Time. Next to that collection is a closed cabinet with English writers. Some loved first editions of Thomas Hardy’s poetry sit on the top shelf beside a modest collection of J. L. Carr. There is shelf space for nature books and political ones and biographies. It is a small, personal library, but I am pleased with it and continue to add to its growth.

So what’s the rub concerning those nine writers and their libraries?

While I did enjoy reading some of their explanations for how a  particular shelf was arranged it still rankled me that I had never heard of any of them, so I went to Google and read of their successes and awards. It should be an humbling experience not to recognize the name of a best-selling author, but I felt none of that. In fact, I felt no negative sense for not ever having heard of any of the nine. I began to wonder if I am illiterate concerning current, popular authors. Am I a snob in by reading choices?

None of us,  I suspect, want to be illiterate about anything and never to be accused of snobbery. But what does this self-examination of my reading choices say about me? Discerning. That fits! We all are given gifts by our Maker and discernment is one of those gifts. So, while I may not know of or have read any of the nine authors in the article, that fact says nothing about them and their writing, but it reveals that I am a discerning reader who unlike other readers does not choose to “try anything” to read. But then,  there is still the chance that sometime in the future I will pick up a book by one of them and bring it home, read it, and find it one to keep and place it on a shelf in my modest library.

By Roger Barbee

Some years ago I led a men’s Sunday School class in Woodstock, VA. When we were studying Job, a member of the class shared an experience he had had during the week. He was a supervisor for a company that performed maintenance on I-81, and his crew and he were working on exit ramps. Tim explained that English was a second language for most of his crew, but some of the workers were better speakers of English, and he managed to communicate with them all in order to get the work done. One day during a morning break, one of the crew approached him and asked in an almost timid way. “We’ve been wondering, Mr. Tim, what religion you are, if you’ll tell us.” Tim explained that he had never discussed religion with his crew, but he told them what Christian religion he belonged.

Our class had a great discussion about Tim’s story and how, even though he had never proselytized to any member of his crew, they had sensed, by his words and deeds, that he was religious; they just didn’t know of what religion but were curious.

Many times through the years I have recalled Tim’s story and what it means for us  Christians. In Matthew 5-7 we are given the Sermon on the Mount and later in chapter 28 we are given the Great Commission. That seems to me to be quite a bit of directive on how to live if we are Christ followers. However, if these words prove difficult to follow, Edgay A. Guest states it all easily enough in his poem The Better Way:

I’d rather see a sermon than hear one any day;

I’d rather one should walk with me than merely show the way;

The eye’s a better pupil and more willing than the ear;

Fine counsel is confusing, but example’s always clear;

And the best of all the preachers are the men who  live their creeds;

For to see the good in action is what everybody needs.

I can soon learn how to do it if you’ll let me see it done.

I can watch your hands in action, but your tongue too fast may run;

And the lectures you deliver may be very wise and true,

But I’d rather get my lesson by observing what you do.

For I may misunderstand you and the high advice you give

But there’s no misunderstanding how you act and how you live.

The current political chatter from some elected officials who suggest that we adopt Christian Nationalism as our new way of doing things has caused me to once again recall Tim’s story. Take a moment and think about it: Language is somewhat of a barrier, but the crew and Tim overcome that issue to accomplish the necessary work. How? They do it because Tim followed the words of Jesus and Guest: Be kind, be patient, and show generosity. With those virtues present, language became secondary in order to accomplish complex tasks.

It seems to me that we don’t need Christian Nationalism or any other man-made creation to help us in our complicated lives. As a Christ follower I try to adhere to the words cited above in Matthew believing that that is the better way; but if not that, just follow those of Guest and watch wonderous things happen.

By Roger Barbee

Some years ago the high school wrestling team I was part of wanted to honor our coach, Bob Mauldin. With the help of his wife Donna and our spouses, we planned a surprise tribute for him, and about 80 old wrestlers and spouses attended. It was a success, and our beloved Coach was surprised—at being the main guest and by words admirable spoken about him after supper.

The spoken tributes for Coach Mauldin varied-some serious, others full of humor, but all centered on our coach and how he had influenced our lives as boys then later as men. But one talk stands out, and when I received word yesterday that Danny had died after battling cancer, I thought of him and what he said and did that night.

Mementos are usually privately kept, stored away for reasons known only to the person placing the small item away in a secret place. Even if the memento is a flower or clover leaf placed between the pages of a book, it serves a role in someone’s life. As J. L. Carr observes in his novel of memory and lost love, A Month in the Country, someone in years hence may purchase a book at a sale and later find a dried Sara van Fleet rose carefully placed between two pages. But no wonder, most folks put seemingly insignificant things in private places as reminders of someone or a time or both which was special but is now past.  But the memory of the importance signified by the memento lives as long as the memorizer.

As I recall, Danny was the  last speaker at Coach’s tribute. Watching him walk to the microphone, I noticed that he was still rather small, like the wiry wrestler he was those years ago.

He then shared how when he was a soldier serving in Vietnam he received a letter from Coach. Danny did not share with us the contents of his letter, but he did explain the importance of Coach’s words to him, a young man far away fighting in a brutal war. Coach’s words were a salve to his soul Danny said, and with that Danny reached into his hip pocket, pulled out the letter, and then thanked Coach for writing him and said something like, “It’s your letter, Coach, and now I give it back to you.”

            Most mementos are private, but at Coach’s dinner we all were witnesses to a memento of one of us, shared publicly, who is now dead as is the writer of the letter. While we do not know the contents of the letter, we were given the privilege of acknowledging a gift to one of us from our Coach  Mauldin. The white, small, and crumpled envelope held a message to Danny, one that he had cherished, carried,  and held close for years. His  public sharing of it told much, but most of all it was a witness of what we all do—hold seemingly insignificant things like cloverleafs or flowers dear to our selves. Danny shared his beloved memento of Coach with us.

            I think Danny saw his talk as a thank you to Coach, which it was, but it  also spoke of holding close what is dear, no matter from whom or from what circumstance–even if only a Sara van Fleet rose between the pages of a book.