THE ONLY WAY OUT [T, 5-5-20]

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith & Life for the Times of Winter

THE ONLY WAY OUT            [T, 5-5-20]

Old clergy friend, John Shaffer, long-time Alaska missionary, has been stirring up a lot of memories for me, because we have been exchanging end-of-life lists—best lists and worst lists of funerals, weddings, meals, professors, books, etc. Sometimes something on one of John’s lists reminds me of a long-forgotten incident from my own past. So it was with Richard Bednarsky.

Richard was the only black person in Cedar Lake, IN when I pastored there, while commuting daily to Garrett Theological Seminary, at Northwestern U, in Evanston, IL. Well, he was only half-black, but that was enough. His mother was white. He got Bednarsky from his step-father.

Richard was smart and handsome and fun. He was liked by his classmates, including several MYF kids. So he came to church, by himself, to be with them, the only black person in the church. In those days, I gave an “altar call” at the end of the service, which was just, “If you would like to join the church, come forward during the singing of the last hymn.” The day Richard accepted the call, and came forward up the aisle, all by himself, at the age of 14, one couple stormed noisily out and never returned.

Richard was a good swimmer and worked on the life boat on the lake, saving drunken white people out of the water. He was allowed to be on the boat, and in the water to save people, but not on the beach, or in the water to swim with his friends. So when there was a picnic at the lake-front home of our MYF sponsors, he had to stay in the house, while the other kids went swimming and frolicked on the beach.

Then came the time to start high school. The Cedar Lake kids went to high school in Crown Point, the county seat of Lake County, “da region.”  Except for Richard. He was met at the door by the principal and turned away. So, I went to see the principal.

I was polite, but I was clear. Richard was a graduate of the school in Cedar Lake and had a right to come to high school with his classmates. He was smart and nice. He would be an asset to the school. Etc.

The principal didn’t argue with me much, except for the usual “people aren’t ready for it yet,” and “it’s still too soon,” and “it will cause trouble,” and “you need to be patient and stop being pushy.” The bottom line: it wasn’t going to happen. There were black schools in Gary. He could go there. It was an hour away, and there was no public transportation between Cedar Lake and Gary, but that didn’t bother the principal.

Now the truth was that a black kid in a white Lake County high school at that time was not a novelty. The white schools in Gary, also in Lake County, were already accepting black students. Helen went to Tolleston, basically an all-white suburb of Gary, several years before, and she had black classmates, who were so committed to their school that when their class had a 50 year reunion, some came from as far away as California to see their old classmates, especially their lauded valedictorian, who refuses to let me use her name, since she thinks it would be unseemly. Froebel and the other white schools in her school days were also admitting black students, especially if they played football.

As I continued, politely but firmly, to argue Richard’s case, the principal sat down at his desk and began to shuffle papers and act like he was working. He didn’t say anything, didn’t say our conversation was over. He didn’t tell me to leave. He just acted like I wasn’t there. That didn’t deter me. I could tell he was hearing me, because his face was getting red, but he refused to acknowledge my presence. Finally, I just left.

As I thought about it, I wondered if perhaps Richard might be better off in a different school. Any child would be better off in a different school. That principal’s approach was to ignore anything that you can’t deal with. Not good modeling from the head educator. Not a very good approach to life.

Contrast that with Ron Wetzell. He was a sophomore at ILSU when I went there to be the Methodist campus minister. We’ve been friends for lo, these 54 years now. After college, Ron’s career was in child protection. Indeed, he was the head of child protection services for Hennepin County [Minneapolis] for several years before his retirement. He had one motto for himself and for his staff: The only way out is through. It’s not original with Ron. It’s usually attributed to Robert Frost. Wherever it came from, Ron made it into his own.

That’s what you need in any leader, especially one charged with the care of children. You don’t sidestep the difficult issues. You don’t ignore them. You deal with them.

I think about the political leadership in our nation, our states, the world-- in this time of corona virus plague. Perhaps more importantly, I think about it for you and me, I think about what we are doing, how we are living. I think about Jesus on the cross. The only way out is through.

John Robert McFarland