The Boys on the Bus

The chant is awful, horrible, racist, violent. Watching young men say it so gleefully (in 2015!) is a stark reminder of how far we have yet to come as a nation. The rapid and strong response has been heartening, but the questions raised by this event are deeply troubling.

What about the boys on the bus? Without a doubt, some of them were singing their deepest sentiments.  Surely, though, not all of them truly believed that if a black man wanted to join their merry band, it would be better if they executed him by hanging him rather than let him become an SAE. Why would otherwise “normal” boys sing with such gusto about killing someone?  We underestimate the power of belonging, and we forget the great lengths to which we humans will go to feel like we are part of the crowd. Even if the crowd is dead wrong, at least it’s our crowd. 

Coincidentally, I’m working on Holy Week and Easter worship today. On Maundy Thursday, we will conclude with a congregational litany in which the response of the congregation is the same each time:  “Crucify him.”  All those years ago, a group of people in a crowd urged the execution of a man, although they were urging hanging on a cross rather than dangling from a tree. We’ve spent the last 2000+ years trying to understand what might have made that group of otherwise “normal” people call for the death of a man who had helped many of them. We still don’t understand fully. 

Worst of all, we cannot rid ourselves of the sneaking suspicion that, had we been in the crowd (or on the bus?) that day, our voice might have joined in also.

On Maundy Thursday, the litany will end with a searing truth, enough truth to hold us until Easter’s resurrection joy:

One: GOD! I have tried to be good enough

All: Crucify Him

One: But I have failed again and again

All: Crucify Him

One: But I stand here in this place and say

All: Crucify Him

One: Because I need a savior.

The Fire Board Meeting

(Note: In general, I try to avoid publicly taking sides on issues that might seem to be partisan. This one, however, doesn't have to do with church politics or Republican/Democratic issues. Instead, I see it as an issue of public safety, one that has had a direct impact on many people, including two of my neighbors and one family in my congregation, all whose houses burned significantly, partly as a result of this situation.)

 Andy and I didn’t discover that our new-ish house in the City of Blue Springs was served by a rural fire department until 2 houses on our block burned our first year here.  Each house sustained significant damage, made worse by the fact that our little rural fire department station is much farther away than two other, modern fire stations belonging what we thought was our fire department.  Ever since then, we and our neighbors have been trying to change our fire department boundaries.  Unfortunately, the only entity that can sanction this move out of Prairie Township Fire Department is. . . Prairie Township Fire Department.  Suffice it to say that they do not want us (and our tax dollars) to go.

Their resistance has been disheartening on many levels.  This fire department was begun in 1954, and it served the needs of the then-rural community well.  Population patterns have changed dramatically since then.  In the same way that some churches that were exactly where they needed to be in 1954 have found themselves no longer able to serve their current community well, the safety needs of our part of the Blue Springs community have changed.  It's not a failure on the part of Prairie Township, it is simply that shifting population that brings new demands. Sometimes being true to one's mission means being willing to let go.

By going door-to-door, our group has been able to gather almost 700 signatures for a petition. Tonight was the night that we were going to present the petitions to the Prairie Township Board Meeting. We had a great turnout of supporters, and we were ready for a chance to make our case respectfully.

(Note: Irony alert ahead.)  The Board filed in, along with at least one of their firefighters.  And then one of them pointed to the sign on the wall:  “Occupancy 42.” With the Board and company now in the room, we were at 44.  There was, in reality, plenty of room, but we were in violation of the fire code. At the meeting at the fire station. (Note: That was the irony.)

In an act that still seems unnecessarily punitive, they made two of us leave.  Coincidentally, it was the two clergy in the room who left. And so I found myself standing outside in 17 windy degrees (windchill was zero-ish or below).  I thought briefly about departing for the warmth of my car, since I’m always the coldest person in any room, but then I reconsidered.  I stood outside at the window, peering in, right in the line of vision of the Board Members. I know I was shivering visibly. Other people arrived late to the meeting and left as soon as they found out they couldn’t get in. Only one other hardy soul (the other clergy) stayed outside with me the whole time.  Inside, our spokesperson was testifying about our deep concerns about the level of fire and ambulance service we receive from Prairie Township. Outside, I shivered and pressed my nose against the window, wishing Prairie Township would let me in.  I didn’t have to fake being miserable, I really was. They didn’t let me in.

They didn’t let me in, and they likely won’t let me go, to another Fire District, that is. We’ve got enough signatures to bring it to the ballot in August, which is our next step.  Standing in the bitter wind on a cold February evening makes me know how very easy it will be to go to the poll on a warm August day.

Dollars, not Shades

It might be harmless fun, or it might be violence against women disguised as harmless fun. I don’t know, because I haven’t read the book or seen the movie, nor do I intend to. In general, I try to stay on top of various cultural phenomena that might be influencing the folks in my church or my community, but not this time. It’s not that my little eyes are too delicate to read such stuff,  it’s simply that I have no interest in it. After hearing from a couple of trusted reviewers, I am giving myself permission to sit this one out.

In terms of reflecting on this movie, I got nothin’.

But what I do have is fifty dollars, not shades, and I intend to donate it to a local shelter that helps women who are working to escape violence in their lives. If you loved the movie, or hated it, or abstained like me, you might consider doing the same. (Hope House and Newhouse are a couple of worthy shelters in this area who can put your gift to much-needed use.)  Any excuse is a good excuse to do good.