A VETERAN'S DAY STORY

      Earl Parker was in love with Viola Shrader, one of the prettiest and most popular girls in town.  He was a country boy who grew up on a beef farm in the rolling hills of Virginia.  He loved baseball and hunting, but he loved Viola more.  They married in 1940.  Times were hard, money was tight and Earl wanted to provide for his new wife so he joined the National Guard for “a dollar a day.”

 

       The world as Earl and Viola knew it changed forever on when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941 propelling the United States into the Second World War. Suddenly the National Guard training became much more serious and intense.  Earl was rarely able to return home and see his beloved Viola.  As Adolf Hitler continued his relentless assault across Europe, Earl and his company learned that they were going overseas.  Viola had something very important that she needed to tell her husband and she wanted to do it in person.  She made a desperate, ill-advised trip to New York to try to see him before they were shipped to England.  But she couldn’t get close to him.  The camp was sealed; she couldn’t even leave a message telling him that she was expecting their first child.

     Earl didn’t learn that he would be a father until he arrived in Britain. Convinced that the baby would be a boy, he and Viola agreed via letters to name him Danny.  When he received the letter informing him that his baby had been born, Viola shared that the baby’s name was indeed Danny.  That was the name of his baby daughter. 

     Earl was anxious for the war to be over so he could go home and see his little girl.  In December of 1943 he wrote his baby a letter:  “Dear Danny, Maybe Santa Claus will bring you lots of things if you are a good little girl.  I sure hope I will be there next Christmas.  I don’t suppose you will know your Daddy when he comes home.  I don’t believe it will take us long to get acquainted.  Don’t tell Mother that I said this, but I love her a lot and think she is real sweet.  I wish I could be there with you and Mother tonight.  With all my love, Daddy.”

    Earl wrote home at least once a week, but as June 1944 approached the letters became infrequent and eventually stopped.  Everyone knew that the inevitable invasion was imminent.  Earl would be among the first men to hit the beach at Normandy.  He knew there would be massive casualties.  Some were even referring to his company as the “Suicide Wave.”  On June 4 the soldiers boarded the British troopship the Empire Javelin.  As it crossed the choppy English Channel in the middle of the night Earl stood at the railing with some of his hometown friends.  “It was a solemn thing,” a friend recalled.  “We sat around and talked about what we would do when we got back home.”  Suddenly, Earl pulled out a picture of his sixteen-month-old daughter, Danny and said:  “If I could just see her once, I wouldn’t mind dying.” 

     Earl’s friend cried almost sixty years later as he recalled the story. 

    Danny went overseas in 1997 and visited the beaches of Normandy.  She carried her father’s dog tags, his purple heart, and the letter he wrote to her in December of 1943.  She couldn’t visit his grave because they never found his body, but she stood before a wall in the Garden of Missing and among the 1,557 names she found the name of her daddy, Earl Parker. 

     Tomorrow is Veteran’s Day.  We will honor all the brave men and women who have served our nation with valor and courage.  And we will remember men like Earl Parker who never had the privilege of holding his baby girl named Danny.  Because of men like Earl Parker, we continue to be free. 

                                                                       

(Earl Parker was one of “The Bedford Boys” as chronicled by Alex Kershaw, 2003)

    

In The Eyes of A Child

 

                                                                                                           

                 I see it in the eyes of a child:  excitement, wonder, innocence, hope, and joy.  On Christmas Eve as the children gather during our Candlelight Service, I see the lights of our Chrismon Tree reflected in their shining eyes that are brimming with wonder and expectation.  The love, trust, and innocence are so real that you can feel it.

        This week I will see the excitement and sheer joy sparkling in the eyes of children as they walk through the front gate of the Davidson County Agricultural Fair.  They will point to the Ferris Wheel and then the Merry Go Round as the magical neon lights of the Midway are reflected in their eyes that are wide open with bubbling enthusiasm.  The children will be so excited they won’t know where to start as moms and dads anxiously try to keep them in tow. 

        I see wonder and happiness reflected in the eyes of my grandchildren as simple things, such as enjoying ice cream or catching lightening bugs, become an amazing revelation as if they are experiencing the world for the very first time.  At nighttime they cuddle up and squeal with delight with eyes all aglow as I promise them a bedtime story, a “One Day Story” they call it, because I always begin with the words, “One day.”   Then a little arm falls around my neck and I hear the words “I love you G-Daddy” as sleepy eyes reflect perfect peace and trust and all is right with their little world. 

        But sadly for many children right here in Davidson County, all is not right with their world and it too is reflected in their eyes.  I see fear in the eyes of a child whose life is full of turmoil, threats, and violence and who never hears the words, “I love you.”  I see despair in the eyes of a child who is hungry and knows there is nothing in the house to eat.  I see anger in the eyes of a child who has every good thing taken away and distrust in the eyes of a child who has been hurt and betrayed by adults.  Nothing is more painful than to look into the eyes of a child and see hurt, sadness, and despair.

        That is precisely why members of the Lexington Kiwanis Club will take leave from their “day jobs” this week and go to work at the fair.  Doctors, lawyers, accountants, realtors, farmers, pharmacists, administrators, bankers, dentists, policemen, funeral directors, educators, and even a preacher will park cars, sell tickets, give directions, manage crowds, and welcome everyone to the Davidson County Agricultural Fair.  It will be a big and exciting week full of good food, thrilling rides, farm animals, blue ribbons, beauty contests, foot-stomping music, and just plain fun.  But all of that is secondary to the reason why the members of the Kiwanis Club run the fair. 

        You see, all of the money that is raised by your admission to the fair goes to operate and maintain a summer camp, Kamp Kiwanis, where we welcome children whose eyes are often full of hurt and fear.  Each summer around 180 children who are selected by the Department of Social Services will spend a week at our camp where they will be loved, encouraged, and affirmed.  We provide good food, a safe, nurturing environment, and a fun-filled week of camp activities.  As the week progresses, we begin to see a change, a change that is reflected in their eyes.  Fear gives way to trust, suspicion to acceptance, and anger gives way to love.  And at the end of the week, eyes that have finally reflected happiness and joy are full of tears as the children don’t want to say good-bye. 

        I’m one of those guys who will be working at the fair this week.  There are many other things I could be doing, but if I ever question why I am there, I simply remember what I have seen.  Come and join us at the fair.  It begins Monday afternoon and continues all week through Saturday.  You will have fun but you will also be making a difference in the life of a child.  I know you will because I have seen it in their eyes. 

                                                                       

 

 

                                                                       

       

         

 

             

 

FIFTY YEARS LATER--A LESSON LEARNED

            I was eight years old when my daddy loaded us into the old Plymouth station wagon and told us we were going to see a movie.  “This is an important movie,” he said:  “a movie that will teach you about one of the most important days in history and will help you to understand how thankful we should be for our freedom.”  

            We went to the Bowline Drive-In Theater and my daddy rolled down the driver’s window and affixed the heavy metal speaker so we could all hear.  We wanted popcorn and drinks, which he provided, and then told us to be quiet and watch the movie, which we did not.  My mother soon released us and we spent the warm evening playing on the playground in front of the big screen, oblivious to the carnage and destruction depicted above us as John Wayne and Richard Burton starred in “The Longest Day.”   We left the movie that night knowing that daddy was not happy with us, for we never realized that the reason we could laugh and play on the playground in front of the big screen was because so many brave men fought and died on the longest day, June 6, 1944.          

            There were parts of the movie that I remembered.  My brother and I used to play soldier when we went to the beach, pretending we were those soldiers in the movie exiting from the landing craft as we stormed the beach and fought through the mighty waves.  It was great fun, but I didn’t have a clue what it was all about.   I later studied about the Second World War in school, but it was always at the end of the school year and we had to rush through it.  In college I studied Western Civilization, but the focus was on the political, socio-economic, and philosophical causes and effects of the war.  I still had not learned the lesson that daddy tried to teach me a half-century ago. 

            It is hard to overstate the significance of D-Day.  It was not only the turning point of the Second World War, but many historians argue that the Allied Victory saved Western Europe not only from Nazi domination, but also from eventually being conquered from an equally barbaric Soviet Union.  As General Eisenhower said, “We cannot afford to fail.”  

            A 5,000 vessel armada, the largest the world had ever seen, transported over 160,000 men and 30,000 vehicles across the English Channel.  Over 13,000 men parachuted in from over 800 planes.  By the end of the longest day, almost 150,000 Allied soldiers were on French soil.  It was the beginning of the end for Hitler and the Nazis.  But knowing that is not the lesson my daddy wanted me to learn that night at the Bowline Drive-In so many years ago.

            Four weeks ago I stood on the top of the Normandy cliffs overlooking Omaha Beach and the English Channel.  It was so very quiet and peaceful.  I tried to imagine the horror and terror of that day when so many young boys died.   Many were just teenagers.  They had never been in real combat before that day.  Most didn’t have a chance.  The Nazis gunned them down like sitting ducks at the fair.  More American soldiers died on D-Day than in the entire war in Iraq.  As war correspondent Ernie Pyle wrote after the battle, “It was a pure miracle that we ever took the beach at all.”

            The American Cemetery sits high above Omaha Beach, one of the most beautiful cemeteries you will ever see.  It is immaculate in its appearance.  Its beauty and serenity belies the gruesome carnage that it silently holds.  There are 9,387 actual graves and a “Wall of the Missing” containing 1,557 names.  These men did not return home.  They never had a family.  They never had the privilege of enjoying the freedom they died to preserve. 

            Walking through the cemetery is a powerful, emotional experience.  As I stood looking at the graves I suddenly remembered my daddy taking us to that movie back in 1962.  He was doing something that none of the men lying in the cemetery were able to do. That was when I finally realized what my daddy was trying to teach me 50 years ago. 

                                                                                   

SATURDAY IN LONDON

        Saturday, July 7 was a great day to be in London, England!  Well, it did rain, but hey—we were in London!   We expected rain!   We even had an umbrella in our hotel room and walking around London with a black umbrella is very British indeed!

        I had a long list of places I wanted to see in London, but needed much more time.  Saturday morning we walked to the nearby Underground station and took the Tube to The Tower of London.  I had studied the Tube map very closely and determined that we could take the Central line to Bank where we could transfer to the Circle or District line that would take us to the Tower.  However, I did not anticipate that the transfer was not as simple as changing subway lines in New York or the Metro in DC.  There was a series of tunnels and stairs that seemed to take forever before we got to the other line.  But we persevered with strained knees and shaky legs and soon were waiting for the rain to stop so we could enter the legendary Tower of London.

          We were greeted by the fascinating “Beefeaters” the Yeoman Warders who guard the Tower and actually live there.  We saw the Bloody Tower, the Traitor’s Gate, and the Tower Green where Henry VIII had two of his wives executed.  Sir Walter Raleigh died at the Tower and the last prisoner to be held there was the infamous Nazi Rudolf Hess.   But by far the highlight of a visit to the Tower of London is the Crown Jewels.  In preparation for the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, the Jewel House had received a marvelous upgrade and the presentation on the jewels is excellent.  The Crown Jewels are simply magnificent and it is well worth a visit to the Tower if only to see them. 

        Following our time at the Tower of London we decided to go to the British Museum.  After stopping for Fish and Chips (not quite as good as the first day’s) we made our way to the greatest (and oldest) museum in the world.  On the way we passed the first YMCA (yes, the Y was born in London) and I took a picture for Gene Klump.

        Each time I have visited the Parthenon in Athens I have heard about the British Museum, but not in positive terms.  The original Parthenon sculptures are not in Athens, but in London, much to the dismay of the Greeks.  When you visit the Parthenon you will hear an impassioned argument on why the sculptures should be returned.  The Brits on the other hand, feel that they rescued the sculptures from destruction and saved them for future generations.  They have printed brochures at the British Museum stating their side of the story. 

        At last I was able to actually see the original sculptures and it was a thrilling moment.  We could have spent all day in the museum, but only hit the highlights.  My “must see” list included the Rosette Stone, and we were able to see it as well.  A serendipitous treasure was the many artifacts from the Ancient Near East.  We saw treasures from ancient Nineveh, the Assyrians and the Babylonians.  I felt like I was in an Old Testament class!  It was exciting. 

        We could have stayed longer, but we needed to get back to our hotel because we had tickets to the theatre! 

        Joyce and I love Broadway and I had always wanted to see a show in London in the West End.  We ordered tickets to see War Horse in the New London Theatre on Drury Lane.  Some of our group took a taxi while many of us opted for the Tube again.  The theatre is very small, like many on Broadway, and we had great seats (even though some of our group ended up in the balcony).  The show is very moving and the horses are actually puppets that are manipulated by humans.  It was breathtaking. 

        It was raining after the show and trying to get a taxi in the rain was a challenge, but I found running down the middle of the street helps.  We took the Tube back after securing a taxi for some of our group and ran into a multitude of young people leaving a concert in Hyde Park.  But we were finally back at the hotel where we spent our final night in London before leaving on Sunday for Southampton.  We would be leaving from the same port the Titanic sailed from a century ago.  But there were no reported icebergs!  Not in July!    My next blog will be on one of the most moving places we visited, Normandy. 

EXCITING LONDON!

        I’ve had a special interest in watching the Olympic games from London because we were fortunate enough to visit London a couple of weeks before the games began.   I went to London on a mission trip in 1970, but didn’t get to see a lot of the city.  It was Joyce’s first trip to London and we were very excited about the opportunity.

        We had a non-stop flight from Raleigh to London’s Heathrow airport.  It was the first time I had ever traveled overseas on a non-stop flight and it was great not having to worry about making connections and bags that didn’t make it, etc.  We departed from the new Terminal C at RDU and the check-in and security were as easy as I have ever experienced.  Our flight departed right on time and after a short night, we started to descend over cloudy Great Britain. 

        Our first glimpse of London was from 10,000 feet up.  We broke through the clouds and there it was—a massive city!  London has a population of over 7 million, making it the most populous city in the European Union.  There was the River Thames meandering through the city.  We could spot Big Ben, the Tower Bridge, and the huge Ferris Wheel known as the London Eye. 

        We landed at Heathrow and after standing in line almost an hour to clear Passport Control, we claimed our bags and exited customs.   A gentleman was waiting for us and after a stop at the ATM to get some Pounds, we followed him to a comfortable van for the ride into the city.

        Everywhere you looked you saw signs of the Olympics.  There were banners and traffic boards informing motorists of designated “Olympic Lanes” that would soon be in force.  Our driver took us through Hyde Park to our hotel, The Grosvenor House, located adjacent to Hyde Park on Park Lane in London’s Mayfair section.  It was a GREAT location.  We could walk to Buckingham Palace, which we did, and could access the Underground through two nearby stations. 

        It was around 10:00 a.m. by the time we arrived at the hotel and, much to our delight, found out that our rooms were ready!   I used to never take a nap after an overseas flight.  My theory was that you should push yourself and stay up all day, then go to bed early and certainly sleep well.  Now that I am older, I am willing to take a nap if possible.  Joyce and I slept for a couple of hours, and then took a shower and we were refreshed and ready for the day! 

        We joined Doug and Alice Pearson who had been on the flight with us and walked a couple of blocks to a little pub the driver had recommended where we enjoyed our first meal of Fish and Chips!   They were excellent.

        Our first challenge was to master the “Tube” or the Underground, London’s extensive subway system.  In most big cities you can get around very efficiently using public transportation, but every subway system is different.  The Underground is the oldest subway system in the world.  We had done our homework and decided the most efficient way to pay for the Tube was by purchasing an “Oyster” card.  We paid 5 pounds (that was refundable when we left) for the card and then added value to it depending on our needs.  The station we entered did not have a ticket window open, so the helpful agent allowed us to take the Tube to the next station where he said we could purchase our cards.  This took a few minutes but soon with Oyster cards in hand we were ready to see the town!  

        We had pre-purchased a London Pass, which I would recommend if you visit London, that gives you access to all the major sites.  After traveling on the Piccadilly Line to Leicester Square, we picked up our passes and traveled to the Tower Bridge where we jumped on a ferry.  We thought this would give us a good overview of the city, and it did.   We rode up the Thames to the Westminster Millennium Pier next to Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament.  My plan was to walk back to the hotel by way of Westminster Abbey and Buckingham Palace, but the long day was finally catching up with everyone, so we took the Tube back.  I thought about going to explore Hyde Park, but fatigue won out and we went to bed early sleeping 12 hours!   But early the next morning, we were really ready to go!

        We were refreshed after a good night’s rest and waited in the hotel lobby for the members of our group who were arriving that morning.  Jim and Beverly Black came in first.  They were tired, but said they were ready to go!  Then Ashley and Gay Whitfield, Joe and Gail Biesecker, and Kay Hardin and Melba Bridges arrived. 

        “Is everyone ready to walk!”  

It was a pleasant morning, a light London rain was falling as we made our way through Hyde Park, down Constitution Hill and on to Buckingham Palace.  We were able to watch the Changing of the Guard and then we strolled through St. James Park on the way to Westminster Abbey. 

Westminster Abbey is, in a word, fabulous.  From the moment you walk through the door, history unfolds before you.  Every British Monarch since William the Conqueror has been crowned here.  The funeral for Princess Di was held here and most recently, the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton. 

After being inspired by the grandeur of Westminster, we walked across the street to the Methodist House where we had lunch.  London is also home to John Wesley, founder of Methodism.  We had a nice lunch and the funny thing was it was like eating in a Methodist Fellowship Hall! 

We then went to the Churchill War Rooms, the cramped subterranean rooms where Churchill directed the British war effort.  The Map Room was especially inspiring and we saw the telephone that was a direct line to President Roosevelt in Washington. 

        If we had walked a few yards beyond the Churchill War Rooms we would have seen the outdoor volleyball court that has been featured during these early days of the Olympic Games. 

We walked down to the Houses of Parliament where we had a great view of Big Ben.    Our London Pass included an admission to Kew Gardens, which is outside of London but accessible by the Underground, so we jumped on the Tube to see the lovely gardens.  However, once we arrived we learned the gardens were closing early due to a concert.  We pleaded our case to no avail, so we enjoyed a stroll around the little town, then headed back into London where we had a nice dinner at the hotel with the Pearsons and the Whitfields.  Jack and Joan Briggs and Joe and Libby Sink also came in to eat.  Our group was gathering and we had another full day in London to anticipate!   I will report on our Saturday in London in the next blog. 

VACATION BIBLE SCHOOL

                It’s not summer without Vacation Bible School!   Like catching lightening bugs, freezing homemade ice cream, watching baseball, eating watermelon and swimming on hot, humid days, Vacation Bible School is synonymous with the summer experience.  While many churches have already had VBS for the summer, our church begins Bible School on Monday morning, July 23.

            I love Vacation Bible School.  With the exception of a couple of years in college, I have been involved in Bible School for over half a century!   When I was a kid Bible School was the highlight of the summer.  We kicked off Bible School the Friday before opening day with a big parade down Main Street.  I remember one year getting to ride on the fire truck.  Life couldn’t get any better.  It was in Bible School that I learned to recite the books of the Bible, all 39 in the Old Testament and 27 in the New Testament—in order.  (We did not learn about the Apocrypha!)   I memorized Bible verses and we focused on a different Bible story every day.  We didn’t just sing “The B-I-B-L-E, Now That’s the Book for Me,” but for two weeks we lived it. 

            Without a doubt the biggest thrill of Bible School was carrying the flag.  Each morning Bible School started with an “Opening Ceremony,” in the church sanctuary.   Boys carried the American and Christian Flags while a girl was relegated to carrying the Bible.   Every boy wanted to carry the American Flag, but at least carrying the Christian Flag was better than carrying the Bible—a girl thing.   Yes, we were unashamedly sexist!   But it seems we had an inverted understanding of what was most important.  After all, it was Vacation Bible School, not Vacation American Flag School.  

            Carrying the Bible should have been the greatest honor followed by the Christian Flag (I mean, we are a Christian church, right?) and then the American Flag, but little children didn’t understand it that way and sadly, many adults don’t either.  I guess adults are too old for Bible School, but we are never too old to study the Bible.  And judging from studies I have seen, adults need a refresher course. 

            Sixty percent of Americans cannot name five of the Ten Commandments, 50% can only name one of the four Gospels and 50% of high school seniors think Sodom and Gomorrah were married.  Americans may revere the Bible, but most never read it.  When I started preaching 40 years ago, I assumed most everyone understood Biblical references in my sermon.  If I mentioned “The Good Samaritan” or “The Prodigal Son” I assumed most everyone knew what I was talking about.  Not anymore. 

            Dr. Stephen Prothero, chairman of the religion department at Boston University, says that our ignorance of not only our own faith, but other world religions, is dangerous.  His book, Religious Literacy: What Every American Needs to Know — and Doesn't, argues that everyone needs to grasp Bible basics, as well as the core beliefs, stories, symbols and heroes of other faiths.  “More and more of our national and international questions are religiously infected,” he says.

             The Apostle Paul wrote that he was a child, he thought like a child, but when he became a man he put away childish things.  When I was a child, I attended Vacation Bible School in the summer, but now that I am a man, I am involved in Bible Study all year long.  I teach several Bible studies including an ecumenical Bible Study every fall and spring on Monday nights and Tuesday mornings.  There are dozens of good Bible studies that meet in homes, churches, and businesses.   You can also download a good Bible App for your phone.  Most have systematic plans to help you read the Bible and you can arrange to have a Bible verse emailed to you on a daily basis.   The Bible is more accessible today than ever before.  

            We will have both boys and girls to carry the flags in VBS and also the Bible.  While I have fond memories of carrying the flags as a boy, I wish I been privileged to carry the Bible.  I didn’t get to, but I hope I will carry the Bible with me for the rest of my life.  

                                                                                                           

             

LET RELIGIOUS LIBERTY RING!

Fifty years ago I stood beside my grandmother in the beautiful rotunda of the Jefferson Memorial. After studying the imposing statue of the "Gentleman Farmer from Virginia," she pointed to the words inscribed on the walls. "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal …" And then she showed her young grandson the words that she considered to be just as important, "Almighty God hath created the mind free … all men shall be free to profess and by argument to maintain, their opinions in matters of religion."

"We are free to worship the way we feel led," she told me. "We are free to be Baptists. There are many people in the world who don't have this freedom."

It seemed so simple back then. My preacher would speak often of religious liberty and the separation of church and state. He would tell us stories of Baptist ministers who were arrested just for preaching. The authorities would come into the church and drag them out of the pulpit. They would be whipped and thrown into prison.

Often, as he preached, I imagined the local police coming into our church and ordering him to stop. I could see my preacher raising his Bible and proclaiming that he must obey God rather than men. Then as he continued to preach the policemen would drag him out of the pulpit as he waved his Bible, urging us never to give up. I pictured my grandmother and the ladies in her mission circle meeting to pray for the preacher and bake brownies to send him in jail.

Sometimes I would see myself, a little boy, bravely ascending the pulpit and saying something like, "They can silence the messenger but they cannot silence the message!" As I became a teenager I would picture myself being dragged out of the church while all the teenage girls wept and proclaimed me a hero while I sat in prison sharing brownies with my preacher.

Yes, it seemed so simple back then. My understanding of religious freedom was that the authorities would not interfere with my preacher. He was free to say whatever God led him to say, and he could say it for as long as he desired (and he usually did!). No one could stop him — not the Methodists, or the Presbyterians, and certainly not the Catholics.

We had just elected the first Catholic president, but even JFK was on record stating that there is "absolute separation of church and state." He stated that no Catholic prelate would dictate how a Catholic president should govern any more than a Protestant minister would tell his congregation how to vote (not that any Protestant minister would ever think about telling his church how to vote).

I never even considered the possibility of religious freedom protecting someone of a different faith. My childhood was very provincial. We didn't even have a Catholic church in our town, much less a synagogue. A mosque? I don't think I knew what one was. What if an atheist wanted to preach at the depot square? No one had any problem with the street preachers who stood on their soapboxes there — but an atheist? Well, that's different. I thought religious liberty simply protected the Baptists.

Religious liberty in a pluralistic society is far from simple. Issues such as abortion, contraception, health care, homosexuality, religious instruction in school and marriage equality have created an ongoing and contentious debate. Precisely because of this religious freedom is more important than ever. A society that respects religious liberty and allows differing claims to truth to compete beside one another creates an atmosphere of openness, integrity, and respect.

Earlier Saturday, I stood once again in the beautiful rotunda of the Jefferson Memorial. We are in Washington with the youths from our church (including my granddaughter) on a Religious Liberty Trip. I pointed out the timeless words inscribed on the panels of the monument, the same words my grandmother read to her grandson almost 50 years ago. Then we sat the on steps of the memorial and talked about religious liberty. Religious faith must be a matter of conviction, not of coercion. Jesus never forced anyone to follow him. That's not too hard to understand.

I don't know if my granddaughter or any of the youths will take their grandchildren to Washington 50 years from now and talk about religious liberty. I would like to think they would. But more importantly, I hope that the bell of religious liberty will still be ringing with a clear, clarion call. "Almighty God hath created the mind free …"

Let religious liberty ring!

MINE EYES HAVE SEEN THE GLORY OF THE COMING OF THE LORD!

Julia Ward Howe was a remarkable woman.  She was a crusader for social justice, an outspoken abolitionist, an early advocate for women’s right to vote, and a crusader for world peace.  She was a direct descendent of Roger Williams, who is often called the first Baptist in America, the founder of Providence Plantation in 1636, the first American settlement that was founded on the principle of the separation of church and state.  She came from a extraordinary family.

        President Abraham Lincoln was inspired by the writings of “Miss Julia” and invited her to the White House in November of 1861.  That evening she was invited to a public review of the troops.  As the soldiers marched by they were singing a popular battle song of the day.  The inspiring tune was a campfire spiritual called “Canaan’s Happy Shore,” that came out of the camp meetings, the revivalistic movement of the day.  But at the beginning of the Civil War, soldiers changed the words and it became known as “John Brown’s Body”  

Old John Brown’s body lies a’moldering in the grave,

While weep the sons of bondage whom he ventured all to save;

But tho’ he lost his life while struggling for the slave,

His soul is marching on.

        The soldiers added many other verses when the war started including one about hanging old Jeff Davis from a sour apple tree!

        Standing beside “Miss Julia” at the troop review was a Washington clergyman by the name of James Freeman Clark.  He turned to her and suggested that she write new words for the fighting men’s song. 

       

        She went back to the Old Willard Hotel in DC.  The youth who went to Washington last week walked right past it, it’s on Pennsylvania Avenue just two blocks from the White House. 

        She said that she slept soundly that night but awoke before sunrise with the words beginning to “Twine themselves in my mind.”  She said to herself, “I must get up and write these verses down, lest I fall asleep and forget them.”  So she sprang out of the bed and found in the dimness an old stump of a pen and “scrawled the verses almost without looking at the paper.”  Before the morning sun reached the paper the words were all there, as if written by another hand. 

        Those stirring words have become one of our nation’s most beloved hymns.  Dr. Martin Luther King, loved this song and quoted it frequently in his speeches including the speech at the end of the Selma to Montgomery march and in his final sermon the night before his assassination he proclaimed, “Mine Eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!”

        Sir Winston Churchill loved the Battle Hymn of the Republic so much it was played at his funeral at St. Paul’s Cathedral.  And on September 14, 2001, at memorial services for the victims of 09/11, it was played both at the National Cathedral in Washington and at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. 

        The beautiful and compelling words that Miss Julia penned early that November morning were not for half a nation to march to, but for a united nation, a whole people to stand up and sing. 

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,

With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:

As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,

While God is marching on.

        This Sunday morning (July 1) as part of our service on Religious Liberty, our choir will sing “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”  

WASHINGTON DC AND RELIGIOUS LIBERTY

          Next week we leave for a long awaited youth trip to Washington, DC.  We had originally planned this trip two years ago, but a snowy winter cancelled most of Spring Break and we had to postpone the trip.  But now it is finally here and when Amtrak # 80, the Carolinian, rolls through Lexington next Thursday morning around 8:00 a.m. 27 youth and adults will be on board bound for Union Station in our nation’s Capital!

        We will tour the US Capitol on Friday morning and travel to Mount Vernon for a Friday afternoon and evening tour.  In fact, our group will have the interactive Reynolds educational center all to ourselves Friday night. Then we travel by bus back into DC and we tour all the monuments on a moonlight monument tour. 

        The next morning we visit the monuments (we walk!) and then begin our time at the Smithsonian.  We will start at the Air & Space Museum and then go across the Mall to the American History Museum.  Early Saturday evening we will go the National Archives to view the original Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, followed by a great meal at the Hard Rock Café.   We actually have t-shirts that have the Hard Rock logo on the front and a special youth group logo designed by Jack Davis on the back.  

        We will visit Arlington Cemetery Sunday morning and come back into DC for an afternoon tour of the Newseum, devoted the First Amendment of the Constitution.    Our whirlwind trip will conclude with a ride back to Greensboro on the Amtrak Crescent, one of Amtrak’s premier long-distance trains that runs between New Orleans and New York City.   We arrive in Greensboro at 12:15 a.m.

I’m a firm believer that every child and young person should visit Washington.  There is no better place to learn the guiding principles of our government and to reflect on the significance of freedom and liberty.  

Once reason I feel so strongly about this is because my grandmother took me to Washington when I was 9 or 10 years old.  I remember the trip well.   We went to Birmingham and caught the Southern “Southerner.”   The Southern “Crescent” was more of a Pullman train, while the Southerner had more coaches.  We rode in a coach, not a sleeper. 

I remember going to the Britling Cafeteria in Birmingham before we went to the station.  My grandmother was a firm believer in arriving at the station at least two hours or more before the train departed.  “You never know when something might happen,” she would say.   “It’s always better to be early.”

I’ve adopted her philosophy and Joyce will tell you that when we travel I’m always at the airport well ahead of schedule because, “You never know what will happen!”

Birmingham had two train stations, one for the Southern RR and one for the L&N.  The Southern Station “Birmingham Terminal Station” was a massive Byzantine styled structure with a massive dome over the center of the station.  I was awestruck by the sight.  Sadly, the old train station was demolished in the late 1960s.  

We left Birmingham in the afternoon and headed for Atlanta.   Atlanta also had a beautiful old station that has long since seen its demise.   I remember the train having to back a long way into the station. 

A highlight of rail travel was the dining car.  We sat down to silver service on a white linen tablecloth.   A seasoned waiter in a starched white jacket took our order.  I marveled at how he could almost effortlessly carry a tray of drinks and plates as the train swayed back and forth. 

Arriving in DC on the train is a thrill.  You can see the Washington Monument looming in the distance as you approach the city.   The train crosses the Potomac and you pass by the Jefferson Memorial.  Soon you can see the US Capitol, the Washington Monument and other well-known landmarks.   Suddenly everything turns dark as you enter a long tunnel that takes you into Union Station.  

Some of you might remember those old black limousines that would give DC tours back in the 60s and 70s.  My grandmother contracted for a limousine and driver to take us around the city and visit all the monuments and museums.  We visited the Capitol and the White House.   It was a lot easier to do so fifty years ago.  Security was a far cry from what it is today.

   I actually saw LBJ in Washington.   We were standing in line to go into the White House when a motorcade flew past us and LBJ waved from his car.   It had only been a year or so since JFK had been assassinated.  Washington was full of JFK memorabilia.  I saw a small bust of John Kennedy that I wanted.  I remember the store owner telling me how fragile it was and I was to take good care of it.  Fifty years later it has a few nicks, but it still sits in my office.   

I can remember as a child standing in the rotunda of the Jefferson Memorial and my grandmother pointing out Jefferson’s powerful words that are inscribed in the marble panels.  There is, of course, the opening lines of the Declaration of Independence, "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, . . .”  Right next to it you will find these words on Religious Liberty:  "Almighty God hath created the mind free. All attempts to influence it by temporal punishments or burthens...are a departure from the plan of the Holy Author of our religion...No man shall be compelled to frequent or support any religious worship or ministry or shall otherwise suffer on account of his religious opinions or belief, but all men shall be free to profess and by argument to maintain, their opinions in matters of religion."

I’ve stood under that rotunda with both my grandsons and pointed out these words.  Next week I will stand there again and point out these words to our adopted grandchildren, the youth of our church.  And our granddaughter, Hannah, will also be with us.  More than anything else, I want our youth to understand the power and the significance of freedom. 

Later we will visit the World War II memorial as well as the Korean and the Vietnam.  Here we will see the cost of the freedom that Jefferson proclaimed.  Freedom is never free. 

I always get inspired when I visit Washington.  I can’t wait to share this with our youth next week. 

God Bless America!   Land that I Love!

THE WITCH OF PUNGO

        Memorial Day weekend we traveled to Norfolk to visit with our son, Knight, and his wife, Amanda.   Knight is stationed on the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower, a nuclear-powered aircraft carrier.  Knight had been out at sea for a few weeks and is scheduled to leave in three weeks for a 10-month deployment, so he was looking forward to break. 

        Knight told us that the small town of Pungo, Virginia has an annual Strawberry Festival every Memorial Day weekend and he always wanted to go.   I love strawberries, and the thought of multitudes of strawberries prepared in various and sundry ways sounded very enticing.   So early Saturday morning we drove over to Pungo, which is located just south of Virginia Beach.  

        We paid $5.00 to park the car in a muddy field and then walked a pretty good distance to get to the center of activities.  The first attractions were carnival rides, much like the ones we have at our county fair.  There was also a big tent with farm animals and a petting zoo.   Loud speakers were blaring all over town as the opening ceremonies were kicking off and the MC was rattling off the names of all the important people who would get their feelings hurt if their names were not mentioned.  

        I must say the MC was no Lee Jessup!   He needed a little more pizazz!   And unless I missed it, there was no blessing!   I always have the honor of blessing the BBQ at our annual festival, and I was sure some local minister would bless the strawberries, but if one did, I missed it. 

        As the subdued MC was naming the people sitting on the master stage, he saved his best enthusiasm for “The Honorary Witch of Pungo!”

 I looked at Joyce and said, “Did he say, “witch?”  

        “I think so,” she responded. 

        Knight and Amanda went off to find an ATM and when they got back we decided to find something to eat.   I envisioned strawberry waffles, strawberry pie, strawberry omelets, strawberry biscuits, strawberry sandwiches, strawberry soup, but all we saw was fair food.   We finally settled on a Gyro (it wasn’t bad at all) but as we were eating it I remarked, “I haven’t seen a strawberry yet!”

        About the time we got finished we heard sirens and a parade started.   We saw the motorcycle officers with lights flashing and sirens blaring leading the way.  After a slew of police cars and fire trucks, there were several convertibles carrying the distinguished guests, including one carrying the “Honorary Witch of Pungo” who was just as happy as she could be waving to the crowd.  

        Then came a marching band, the Shriners, the spelling bee champion, and the local dance studio students.   A local contemporary church had a big float with their rock band playing and about 50 people following on foot.  Then came antique cars—a bunch of them!   There were fire trucks, rescue squad vans, and several cars that seemed to have gotten in the parade by mistake.  I think they were looking for a parking place. 

        There was a lady who looked official standing in front of me keeping people off the street, so I struck up a conversation with her. 

        “This is a nice parade,” I said.  

        “Sure is,” she responded.  “And this is just the beginning.   This parade will last for 90 minutes, and longer if they keep stopping.”   

        I looked at my watch.   Only 10 minutes had passed. 

        “I kinda thought I would see a few strawberries here,” I told her. 

        “That’s a problem,” she said in a low voice.  “Our crop was awful this year.  What we have they had to ship in.”  

        I had one more question I just had to ask, “Could you tell me about the Witch of Pungo?”

        He face lit up and she said, “Well, it goes back 300 years when Grace Sherwood was accused of being a witch.” 

          The witchcraft case of Grace Sherwood is one of the best known in Virginia. She was accused of bewitching a neighbor's crop in 1698. Allegations grew over time until the Princess Anne County government and her accusers decided she would be tested by ducking, since water was considered pure and would not permit a witch to sink into its depths. Sherwood's accusers, on July 10th, 1706 at ten of the clock, tied her thumbs to big toes cross-bound and dropped her into the western branch of the Lynnhaven River near what is now known as Witchduck Point. Sherwood floated, a sign of guilt. She was imprisoned, but was eventually released. Sherwood lived the rest of her life quietly, and died in 1740. Was she really a witch or was Grace a woman before her time? She was a healer, a midwife and a friend to the children and animals.

(If an accused witch drowned, then she was declared innocent, which strikes me as some consolation!  However, Grace Sherwood was innocent, but it would take 300 years to clear her name.)

          On the 300^th anniversary of her conviction, the Governor of Virginia pardoned Grace Sherwood with these words:

"I am pleased to join the Mayor of Virginia Beach in extending best wishes as you work to promote justice in the 1706 "Witch Ducking" case of Grace Sherwood. With 300 years of hindsight, we all certainly can agree that trial by water is an injustice. We also can celebrate the fact that woman's equality is constitutionally protected today, and women have the freedom to pursue their hopes & dreams. The historical records that survive indicate that Ms. Sherwood, a midwife and widowed mother of three, survived her "trial by water" in 1706. Those records also indicate that one of my predecessors, Governor Alexander Spotswood, eventually helped her reclaim her property. The record also indicates Ms. Sherwood led an otherwise quiet and law abiding life until she died at the age of 80. Today, July 10, 2006, as 70th Governor of the Commonwealth of Virginia, I am pleased to officially restore the good name of Grace Sherwood. Sincerely, Timothy M. Kaine, Governor, Commonwealth of Virginia

        She became the only deceased person in Virginia to ever be exonerated of a crime.

        Having received this great gift of knowledge and learning that there would not be a blessing of strawberries, we decided to depart.  But on the way out we found a Lion’s Club booth selling Stawberry Shortcake.  Even with imported strawberries, it was mighty good!      

        But the best thing was that we got see the “Honorary Witch of Pungo!”   Don’t you love it!