Many years ago I was browsing through the Illinois Wesleyan University library. I think I was doing it just because it was a new library, and I like libraries.
I pulled a book off the
shelf about Lyman Beecher and his thirteen remarkable children, by two
different wives. I suppose Harriet Beecher Stowe is the most famous, but Henry
Ward Beecher is a close second.
My favorite, though, is Arthur, for three reasons that I learned from that book.
First, he was hired by the Presbyterian Church in Elyria, NY for a one-month trial. He stayed 40 years, on one-month calls. Can you imagine being voted on by your bosses every month for 40 years?
Second, the first month he was in Elyria, he was thrown out of the ministerial association, for heresy. He never missed a meeting of that group, for forty years, although he was never readmitted to membership. That’s being true to your heresy! It’s also a good way to avoid having to serve as an officer or pay dues.
Most importantly, once he was invited to come down to Brooklyn to fill the pulpit for his famous brother, Henry. The place was packed to hear the great orator. When it was announced that Henry was not there and his brother would preach, people started to leave. Arthur leaped into the pulpit and proclaimed, “Those who have come to hear Henry Ward Beecher may leave. Those who have come to hear the Word of God may stay.”
Not as well known, but perhaps most important, was Isabella Beecher Hooker, who was so important in the fight for women’s rights. When she was nearing the end of her life, she said to her granddaughter that she felt so unnecessary, that she was doing nothing to make the world better.
“But you have the satisfaction of knowing you did so much in the past,” her granddaughter said. “All that does,” replied Isabella, “is remind me that I am unable to do anything now”
That’s a dilemma for old people. Today is Labor Day, and we are reminded that work gives us a worth and dignity that we do not have without it. but there comes a time when you simply can’t work, even as a volunteer. Your health and energy are not sufficient. Caring for yourself alone is a fulltime job. Does that count as labor? Do we get to celebrate this day, just because we worked in the past? What gives us dignity and worth now?
I think the final answer is trust.
Yesterday in church, Sheri and Ann had with them the most recent of the babies they care for as emergency foster parents. The social people call up and say, “We’ve got this parentless new-born…” and Ann and Sheri are out the door to the hospital or police station to get that baby. This one they call Maddy. She is tiny and so beautiful.
Her temporary moms sit up front on the left. Sheri and Ann sit there because it’s convenient to a door to the rest of the building in case they need to take Maddy out quickly to change a diaper. It’s convenient to the rest of us because we can watch the baby side-eye and make the preacher think we’re paying attention to what’s going on up front.
Midway through the service yesterday, Sheri got up, cradling Maddy in one arm, the way running backs carry a football, and came over to Leanna and Gene, sitting right in front of Helen and daughter Mary Beth, who is visiting for the weekend, and me, and just put the baby into Leanna’s arms. When Leanna held her on her shoulder, she was able to look me right in the face, and we had the best time making googly eyes at each other!
But this little parentless football baby did not know who I was. or who was holding her. Sheri and Leanna are different colors and different generations. That made not a whit of diff to Maddy. That baby did not know where she came from, or what would become of her. Labor Day was the very next day, but she was not going to do any work at all, to care for herself or to make the world a better place. She was just trusting the moment, trusting those who held her, regardless of where they sat, to care for her.
At the beginning of life, or at its end, our labor is trust.
The indefatigable John Wesley’s last words were: “The best thing is, God is with us.”
John Robert McFarland
Marvelous!!
ReplyDeleteI gave my "religious" book to Austin Presbyterian, years ago, so I don't have the name of the book or the authors I want to refer to. (or to whom I want to refer). They were monastics. A man and a woman (priest and nun) at Lieb Shema, a Catholic Retreat Center south of Kingsville on the Kings Ranch. From the time you entered the grounds til the time you drove out, you had to honor a vow of silence. No talking...even during the common meal times. Except for one hour each afternoon when the two monastics share their writings and theologies, opening the door to group discussion. The book I gave away was their theology on God's pattern of life experiences. In a nut shell, they said old age is the most important and highest level in our spiritual journey, because it is then that we are required to come to terms with dying. It is such an important time for spiritual contemplations that we should not allow matters of this earthly life clutter up our minds. I think they are right. I wonder if smoking a cigar and sipping a bourbon is considered a worldly intrusion to my thoughts about the after live. (By the way, I loved the thing you wrote about the "here after".)
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