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!

       

BEING TRUE TO MYSELF AND TRUE TO JESUS

        I was on the charter bus Monday morning with 39 wonderful Bible scholars (who attend the Monday night/Tuesday morning Bible Study) making our way to Savannah, Georgia for the 16^th Annual Bible Study Field Trip when I received a call from my friend, Max Walser.  Max had seen all the letters in the paper in response to my article on Amendment One and wanted to know how I was doing.  Max has been in public service his entire life and knows what it is to be attacked.  He thanked me for standing up for the truth and said, “You knew this would happen when you wrote the article.”

        “Yes, I did, but as Jim Phillips (who was sitting beside me) told me, you have to be true to yourself.”

        I knew the article would generate a lot of discussion, but I never imagined it would explode the way it did.  The Dispatch can track how many “hits” an online story has and primarily because of the article being shared on Facebook and Twitter it was viewed over 46,000 times.  It generated a lot of feedback!

        While some of the responses both online and in the paper were thoughtful and reasonable, the angry, vitriolic, and hateful ones were disturbing.  I was told many times I was going to hell.  I was called a false prophet, a minister of Satan, and a son of the devil.  My credentials were questioned as a minister and one writer even admonished my church to question my Biblical integrity. 

        The personal attacks do not bother me.  But I was upset when my family and my church family were condemned.  I was told my entire family and my church family were all going to hell.  Last Sunday an anonymous package was left at one of the doors to the church.  It had a letter with my name on it.  The letter was another hate-filled attack.  The package was not opened but turned over to the Lexington Police Department.  The identity of the sender was quickly determined.  It was one of the letter writers. 

        It was evident that many of the responders never read my article.  I received many emails in which the writers gave very detailed Biblical reasons to oppose same-sex marriage.  Never in my article did I endorse same-sex marriage.  I was opposed to the amendment. 

        The issue of homosexuality is one of the most difficult issues to understand.  I have known people who simply have chosen this lifestyle for a variety of reasons.  I think that is wrong.  I believe this is condemned in Scripture.  But the problem comes with people who feel they were born as homosexuals.  I have known more people who did not “choose” this lifestyle but tell me this is who they are.  If someone is born a homosexual, they have no choice.  They were created this way.  And that is where this issue gets complicated. 

        This presents a major challenge to the Biblical interpreter.  What do you do with the passages that specifically list homosexuality as a sin?  Didn’t God create us “good,” and in his image?

        As a Christian I believe in interpreting the Bible Christocentrically.  That means we interpret everything through the “Jesus filter.”  I always go back to the last night before the crucifixion.  One of the last things Jesus did was leave his disciples with a “new commandment.”  “Love one another,” he said, “as I have loved you.” 

        Whatever we do, whatever we say, whatever stand we take must be grounded in love.  I was opposed to the amendment because it was not grounded in love.  It singled one group of people out.  It marginalized them, isolated them, and made them feel like second-class citizens.  This is wrong.   

        I don’t pretend to be an expert on the homosexual issue, but I will not judge.  God will be the judge, not me.  But I have been commanded to love others as Jesus loves me.  That means loving unconditionally. 

        If I’m going to be criticized and attacked, I have no regrets knowing that I took a stand for Jesus.  I took a stand for love.   I was true to myself.  I was true to Jesus.  I will gladly take the heat. 

THE AMENDMENT ONE ARTICLE

                    Joyce and I spent the weekend at a hospital conference in Williamsburg, Virginia.  I love Williamsburg and it had been a number of years since we had visited.  I always get inspired when I think about those brave patriots who believed that freedom was worth risking “their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor.”   We saw a film one afternoon on “The Great Awakening and Liberty.”   It was about how the spiritual movement known as the Great Awakening influenced the American Revolution and, of course, religious liberty.  

        Because I believe very strongly in religious liberty and the separation of church and state, I am always reluctant to speak out on political matters.  I do not believe it is my role to be political and politics do not need to be in the pulpit.   But what happens when an issue that should not be political becomes just that?   What happens when an issue on which the church should be guardian crosses over into the political arena?  

        This is exactly what has happened with the so-called Marriage Amendment.  I believe very strongly that marriage is only ordained by God, not the state.  The state recognizes the marriage that is ordained by God within the church, but the state should not be in the business of defining marriage.  

        I am speaking out on Amendment One because I believe this is a moral and spiritual issue, more than a political one.   Unfortunately, however, people have made it political for their own selfish ends. 

        I also am speaking out because I believe this amendment, if adopted, will result in unrighteous discrimination and many innocent children will be hurt and others will be victimized by its consequences. 

        My article on the issue was first published on the Dispatch website Friday and then appeared in the print edition on Saturday.  Because we were out of town, I saw the article online and checked it several times because I knew I would get some feedback.  But I never expected what happened!   On the Dispatch website there is a section that gives you the five top “Most Read” articles.   Now understand that Ray Howell’s religion column NEVER even makes the Most Read.  But it appeared there late Friday afternoon and then became the #1 article by Saturday morning and remained there until Sunday night when the article on Rev. Pam Strader’s excellent presentation at Grace Episcopal appeared.  As of Monday at noon, The Grace Episcopal article was number one and mine was number two, followed by the story on the weekend’s BBQ cook-off.  (As of Monday night my article was back at # 1)

        I’m not concerned about publicity, but I am concerned that people have the facts and see the hidden dangers that this Amendment holds.  This tells me that many people are reading the story and according to the Dispatch website, my article has been recommended on Facebook over 1,000 times.  

        I have received comments and emails from people all over the state and even received a phone call Monday morning from South Carolina.  The great majority of the feedback has been very positive, although there have been a few negative responses.  (Some of the comments have been very hateful and judgmental)

        Here is the article as it appeared in the Dispatch this weekend:  

On May 8, thousands of sincere, well-intentioned people will go to the polls and vote yes for Amendment One (the so-called Marriage Amendment) believing they are doing the right thing by ensuring marriage in North Carolina will always be between a man and a woman. Sadly, like many moral issues that cross the line into the political arena, this issue is far from being simple and straightforward.

In my opinion, this amendment is unnecessary, unbiblical, unrighteous and may even be unconstitutional. Voting against this amendment is not saying you are in favor of same-sex marriage, and voting for this amendment will not guarantee traditional marriage. In fact, the adoption of this amendment could backfire and have exactly the opposite result.

This amendment is not necessary. North Carolina law already prohibits same-sex marriage, and the law is crystal clear. (N.C. General Statute 51, Article 1, 51-1) No court can challenge it. However, if this amendment is adopted, it opens the door for federal review as possibly being unconstitutional. The California Constitutional Amendment banning same-sex marriage was overturned in February by federal court. The same result is very likely to happen here. If we already have a secure wall that prohibits same-sex marriage, why do we want to replace it with a flimsy fence?

The biggest problem I have with this amendment is that marriage is God's business. The only one who truly ordains and blesses marriage is God, not the State of North Carolina. I know some ministers will faithfully proclaim: "By the power vested in me by the State of North Carolina …" But when I pronounce a couple as "husband and wife" I call on a greater power. "Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder." I will dutifully fill out the marriage license and personally hand deliver it to the Register of Deeds (lest another government agency become involved), but the State of North Carolina only recognizes marriage, it doesn't ordain it.

So why have we taken this debate to the political theater? I find it ironic that the majority of those who are promoting this amendment are also those who believe philosophically that government should be less involved in our lives. Why do we want the government to become involved in one of our most sacred institutions?

Homosexuality is one of the biggest issues facing the church today. Christians have widely different interpretations on this issue, but there is one truth I hope all believers accept as non-negotiable. Every person, regardless of sexual orientation, is a child of God, created in the image of God and deserves to be treated with love, dignity and respect. This amendment opens the door for needless discrimination, marginalization and judgment. Jesus never said one word about homosexuality, but he spoke many words about injustice, unrighteousness and hypocrisy.

Jesus also spoke about rendering unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's and to God the things that are God's. Marriage belongs to God, not Caesar. The Apostle Paul wrote about the problems that are created when we bring the government into religious matters. Throughout history whenever religious beliefs have been codified into law, the results have usually been a disaster.

We don't need Amendment One. Its adoption will open a Pandora's Box of problems that will result in unintended consequences hurting many, many people. Unmarried couples who have children will be negatively impacted as well. Let the church debate the issue of marriage, not the state! This amendment is a bad idea. It is political grandstanding that plays on the fears of the public.

Because I believe that Jesus calls us to love one another as he loved us — unconditionally, without prejudice or judgment — I am voting against Amendment One. I would humbly ask you to prayerfully consider joining me.

The Rev. Dr. Ray Howell III is senior minister at First Baptist Church on West Third Avenue.

MY EASTER IN GREECE

        A wonderful group of young people along with parents and leaders are leaving this Thursday for Greece along with their beloved Choral Director, Lee Mabe, who was recently named Lexington’s “Citizen of the Year.” 

        I have had the privilege of traveling to Greece three times and each time the experience has been awe-inspiring.   In the late 1990s we took a great group of folks to Greece to follow the journeys of the Apostle Paul.  This trip came to mind since we left right after Easter and the kids are leaving this Thursday, Maundy Thursday.  It was on our trip in the 90s that I learned the Orthodox Calendar is often different that the Western Calendar, so rather than being in Greece on Easter Sunday, the youth will experience a second Palm Sunday this Sunday, April 8.  Last year, 2011, Easter was actually observed by both traditions on the same day, April 24, but this year and the year we went, they are different.   Both traditions use the same formula for calculating Easter, “The first Sunday after the first full moon on or after the vernal equinox,” but the churches base the dates on different calendars.  Western churches use the Gregorian calendar and Eastern churches the Julian calendar.  It’s actually even more complicated because the two traditions differ in their definition of the vernal equinox.  Western churches use a fixed date, March 21, and Orthodox churches set the date according to the actual equinox as observed along the meridian of Jerusalem, site of the Crucifixion and the Resurrection. All of this is very confusing, but the bottom line is that the youth will experience two Palm Sundays this year and the year we went, we experienced two Easters—and that is what I want to tell you about!   My Easter in Greece. 

        We were visiting the island of Rhodes on Easter Eve and learned that the Greek Orthodox Easter celebration was scheduled for that night.  We arrived around 11:00 p.m. and found hundreds, well over a thousand, people surrounding the Greek Orthodox Church.  There was no way that all of those people were going to get inside the church and most of us didn’t even attempt to go in.  After all, we were told, the action takes place outside the church.

        Precisely at midnight deep in the sacred chambers of the old church, a single candle, the Christ candle was lit by the High Priest.  All of the other clergy wait.  Following an ancient liturgy (Greek Orthodox are called “Keepers of the Tradition” and scholars say they may come closer to early worship in the church than any other tradition), the High Priest emerges carrying the candle with great pomp and ceremony. 

        Outside the church everyone is anxiously waiting.   We have been given candles and we wait and watch the entrance of the church.  As the first member of the clergy emerges (beginning with the lowest and ascending in importance and rank) a wave of anticipation swept through the crowd and you could feel the excitement, much as when the first members of a football team emerge from the tunnel before a huge game. 

        There were a number of the old priests, dressed in black with long, flowing beards, but they were preparing the way for the big man, the High Priest, who finally emerged carrying the lighted candle.  The crowd momentarily erupted with joy but then quickly was hushed as the High Priest prepared to make the most significant and explosive pronouncement of his life.  There was a dramatic pause, the crowd held their collective breath and then, then the High Priest thundered “Christos Anesti!”  (Christ is Risen)

        The crowd exploded with the response, “Alithos Anesti!”  (He is risen indeed!)  Then the crowd cheered, but it more than a cheer, it was a joyous, thunderous, exclamation of celebration and victory!   Jesus is alive!   Then people began to sing.  They sang and sang as the old priests lit their candles from the Christ candle and then proceeded to light the peoples’ candles.  As each Candle was lit, the affirmation “Christos Anesti” was shared. 

        That night a perfect stranger who no more could speak English than I could speak conversational Greek shared the light of Christ and said, “”Christos Anesti!”  “Alithos Anesti” I said in return and I turned to light the candle of another stranger who at that moment, became a brother in Christ. 

        The goal of every family was to keep the candles burning until they made it home and then the children would light the candles on the table that would be filled with a joyous feast—yes, they would feast throughout the wee hours of the morning.

        I have always recalled that experience as one of the most powerful spiritual moments of my life.  A long way from home, on a Greek island far away, I experienced the power of the Risen Christ and shared his light and love with strangers.  My hope and prayer is that these young people who travel to Greece will also find Christ’s light and love.  

WHEN YOU KNOW THE ENDING

        We were watching the North Carolina basketball game last Sunday when it came time to leave for a meeting at the church.  “I’m going to record the rest of the game,” I told my wife.  “And if it is an exciting finish I want to watch it when we get home.”  I’m not a Carolina fan, but since I have a daughter who graduated from UNC, a grandson who is a student in Chapel Hill, and another grandson who lives and dies with the Tar Heels, I was pulling for them to win.  They were also representing our state and the ACC.  I wanted Carolina to beat Kansas. 

        I heard the final score before I returned home.  I promptly erased the recording.  It makes a difference when you know the outcome.  It’s hard to be excited when you know the ending is not good. 

        This Sunday at high noon hundreds of people from area churches will gather at the Square in front of the old courthouse for a Community Palm Sunday Celebration.  It will be a festive atmosphere.  You will hear shouts of “Hosanna!  Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!”  Trumpets will sound, worshipers dressed in their Sunday finest will wave Palm fronds, different choirs dressed in colorful robes will sing “All Glory, Laud, and Honor,” and the local clergy dressed in liturgical vestments with purple stoles will pray, read Scripture and proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ!

It will be a celebration which raises an interesting question.  How can we celebrate when we know that the ending will not be good?  If we follow Jesus throughout Holy Week, we will find tensions building in Jerusalem as he drives the money changers out of the Temple, the religious authorities will conspire against him, the people will turn against him, and finally one of his own disciples will sell him out for a pocketful of money.  Jesus will be arrested, paraded back and forth between political leaders, victimized by a travesty of a trial, and finally sentenced to die by crucifixion.   His closest followers will go into hiding, he will be severely beaten and ridiculed, and after a humiliating death march through the city forced to carry his instrument of torture and execution, he will be stripped of his garments, nailed to a cross, and lifted up for all to see on a public hill called Golgotha just outside the city walls.  

Just knowing that this will happen tempers our celebration, but yet, we still celebrate.   We know that even though the immediate ending is not good, there is a greater ending that transcends all human expectation and experience—a greater ending that transforms our very existence.  It teaches us that the worst case scenario is never the last word.  There is always hope, always light, and always a reason to lift up our heads and hearts and yes, celebrate, even in the most desperate situations. 

As people of faith we understand that pain, suffering, injustice, and death are all a part of life.  We can erase the recording, but it doesn’t change the reality.  It’s how we view the reality of suffering that makes all the difference.  Left on its own, suffering, pain, affliction, and failure will overwhelm us, driving us into a deep, dark abyss of depression and despair.  Life loses all meaning and purpose and we are plunged into hopelessness.  But if we understand that Jesus not only died for us, but he died to suffer with us, we can allow him to absorb our anguish and despair through his crucifixion.  Fredrick Buechner wrote, “Because of the cross our greatest pain endured in love and faithfulness, becomes the greatest beauty and the greatest hope.”  Therefore we can sing, “In the cross of Christ I glory!”

And so this Sunday, Palm Sunday, we celebrate precisely because we know how it will end.  And next Sunday, Easter Sunday . . . well, nothing can ever erase that ending!

Scheduled to appear in The Dispatch, March 31, 2012

       

Elsie Banks Loved to Laugh

          We are in the midst of a Lenten sermon series on the Fruit of the Spirit.  This Sunday we are talking about goodness.  I was thinking about the best way to define goodness, and I thought about Elsie Banks.  Elsie personified the meaning of goodness.   But last Sunday we talked about kindness.  Kindness defined Elsie’s life.   And there was love, and joy, peace, patience . ..

        In Elsie’s life the Fruit of the Spirit were not only present, but active, vibrant, transparent and contagious.  

        Elsie died at her home Tuesday night after an extended illness.  Her funeral service was Saturday at First Baptist Church where she was an active and faithful member for the majority of her life. 

        There are nine “fruits” of the Spirit.   While Elsie displayed all nine in her life, perhaps the one that stood out above all the rest was “faithfulness.”  

        Elsie did not have an easy life.  She was raised at the Junior Order Home, and while that was a difficult journey in many ways, Elsie would quickly point out all of the positives, the love, the support, the life-lessons, the encouragement that we received there.  

        She experienced a great deal of loss in her life, her parents, her husband, her brothers, but most painfully, her son.  For many years she battled a serious and life-threatening illness.  But through it all, while some would have become bitter, callous, and angry with God—Elsie was faithful. 

        In good times and bad, Elsie was faithful.  In times of sickness and distress, Elsie was faithful.  Through heartache and loss, Elsie was faithful. 

        She loved First Baptist Church.   It was her extended family.   And it was rare that an event was taking place at our church without Elsie.  Whenever the church bus or one of our charter buses pulled out of the church parking lot on a trip, Elsie would be on board.  We had some great times traveling together and Elsie was always at the center of the action, her joy and enthusiasm were contagious.  Everyone loved to be with Elise. 

        Elsie’s joy was communicated through the sparkle in her eyes and her loveable laughter.  All I had to do was mention a memorable experience from one of our trips, like the banana pudding we had at Natural Bridge, Virginia that didn’t have any bananas, or the trip to West Virginia when it rained the entire time and we had chicken for every meal, or the continental breakfast we had in Williamsburg at which everyone was rationed two mini-muffins, or my 50^th birthday Cruise when we hit the Nor’easter coming back up the East Coast and everybody in the group was too sick to eat the cake, or the time we celebrated Martha Kinney’s birthday in Savannah and everybody on the bus was laughing, but no one can remember the reason why—and Elsie’s eyes would sparkle and she would laugh.  

        In the 31^st chapter of Proverbs, the wisdom writer is describing a virtuous woman and he writes:  Strength and dignity are her clothing and she laughs at the time to come.  To be able to laugh in times of distress, sadness, pain, and suffering, is the visible sign of faithfulness.  The writer goes on to say:

She speaks wisely.
She teaches faithfully.
She watches over family matters.
She is busy all the time.
Her children rise up and call her blessed.
Her husband also, and he praises her.
He says, "Many women do noble things.
But you are better than all the others."

The passage concludes by saying:  Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

THE DAY MR. LOONEY DIED

        There are two things I read in my hometown newspaper—the obituaries and a feature called, “A Look Back” that reports on what was going on in my hometown 50 years ago, back when I was a boy. 

        I’ve often told the story of my first encounter with death.  Mr. Looney was a kind policeman who often worked the school crossing on Main and Milner Streets.  Back when I WAS A BOY, I would walk to school!  (Yes, it was rough back in the day!)  The Main and Milner crossing was one block from my house, two blocks from the school.  (Okay, give me a break!  It was only 3 blocks but I was just a kid!)

        Mr. Looney knew us all by name, or at least our family name.  I was “little Howell.”   He would joke around with all the kids, sometimes let us play with his handcuffs, and he would make sure we were safe and sound. 

        One morning I saw Mr. Looney on the way to school.  I’m sure he called me “little Howell” and had some encouraging words for me.  He wasn’t there when I walked home.  I stopped at my grandmother’s house and she told me that Mr. Looney had died.  It was a sudden heart attack, just after working the school crossing. 

        My memory doesn’t always serve me well because in my mind we got in her car right then and went to the funeral home.  More than likely it was the next afternoon when we went to the funeral home.  It was the old Peck Funeral Home up on the hill across the tracks from the Hartselle Depot. 

        We walked into the viewing room and I remember flowers everywhere.  And there, in the middle of the floral arrangements, was a casket with Mr. Looney, dressed in his police uniform with his hat resting to his side.  My grandmother walked up to the casket.  She beckoned me to come join her but I was reluctant.  I had never seen anyone in death before. 

        She started talking to me, telling me that this was just Mr. Looney’s body.  His spirit, she said, was already in heaven.  Mr. Looney was rejoicing in heaven.  He was up there with Jesus and all of his family and one day, we would be there too. 

        Then she said to me, “Do you want to touch him?”  

        Well, I didn’t, but Nana didn’t give me a choice.  She took my hand and placed it on Mr. Looney’s cold hands.   A chill went up my spine.  She was teaching me a life lesson about death.  “Death is a part of life,” she always said.

        That event had quiet an impact on me.  Obviously, I have not forgotten my first encounter with a dead man.  The other day in my hometown paper, I read that 50 years ago Police Chief Looney had a sudden heart attack and died.  His funeral was scheduled for First Baptist Church.    

        So it has been 50 years.  I would have been an eight year old boy in the second grade.  And I never remembered him being the Police Chief.  Of course, my hometown was so small there were probably just a handful of policemen.   But even so, it was the Chief who worked the school crossing and made friends with all the kids.   Fifty years later, Mr. Looney is still influencing me. 

        Now, here is the “rest of the story.”   I don’t know if that experience had anything to do with it—but I think it did—when in college I got a part-time job at a funeral home.  I certainly wasn’t scared of being around the dead.  My grandmother saw to that when I was in the second grade. 

        I have always felt that my experience in a funeral home gave me a better understanding of how to relate to families at a time of death, which I do right often as a minister. 

        And here’s another interested twist.  Having experience at a funeral home in college led me to find a job with Bright Funeral Home in Wake Forest when I was in seminary.  When I went to work at Bright, they were still running ambulance service, so I was certified as an EMT.  When I was called to my first church, they quickly found out that I was an EMT with ambulance experience so I was soon a volunteer with the rescue squad.  My youngest brother, Jon, came to see me and went on an ambulance call with me.  He must have liked it, because he later got a part-time job with an ambulance service.  Today, he is the CEO of HEMSI, the emergency medical services of Huntsville, Alabama.  

        Somehow there is a connection that goes back 50 years to the day that Mr. Looney died.   Death, after all, is a part of life. 

NANA'S BIRTHDAY

     

          This past Monday, February 27, would have been my grandmother’s 110^th birthday!  I was born on her birthday and each year I cannot celebrate my birthday without remembering hers.  She always said I was her birthday present, and it established a strong bond that continues to this day. 

“Nana” lived two doors down from our house.  Growing up, we spent as much time with Nana at her house as we did our own.  All the major holidays and big events were celebrated at Nana’s house.  Whenever we gathered around her large dining room table, there were always others who joined us.  Nana was very mindful of neighbors and friends who didn’t have family, and if she found out someone would be celebrating a holiday alone, she insisted they come to her house and dine with us. 

        Nana had a profound influence on my life.  When I was in the second grade, my teacher Mrs. Howell (no relation), would routinely assign me speeches to make before the class.   February was busy as I had an Abraham Lincoln speech followed quickly by one on George Washington.  I would normally go to Nana’s house after school and tell her what my assignment was.  It was amazing that even before I told Nana, she had the World Book encyclopedias out and had done other research on my assignment.  She helped me write the speech and then Nana and “Auntie” (my great-aunt who was a High School English and Drama teacher) would coach me on memorizing the speech and my delivery.  I guess I never thought it was odd that none of the other kids in the class were ever assigned speeches.  Come to find out, Nana, Auntie, and Mrs. Howell were in cahoots with each other. 

        When I was sixteen and made my church aware that I felt called to preach, someone told me, “Your grandmother has been praying for this since the day you were born.”  Seems she was doing more than praying!

        Nana loved the church and served in many capacities of leadership.  She started our church library and would always arrive at church an hour before Sunday School to open the library.  Most Sundays I would be with her.  We got there before the preacher did!  She was Mrs. WMU, she always hosted the visiting revival preachers for a meal, visiting missionaries stayed at her home, and she would sometimes play the violin in the worship service.  She loved Ridgecrest and for a number of years attending Ridgecrest for a week in the summer was our summer vacation.

        Nana also loved to travel and instilled within me the same love.  When I was small I would listen to her exciting stories of her European travels.  She brought me some wooden shoes from Holland that stayed in my room for years.  Her niece was a Pan Am flight attendant, back with that was a glamorous occupation and she and my grandmother would fly all over the world. 

        When I was old enough to travel, she took me on some amazing trips, including two trips to Alaska and a six week odyssey that took us to Salt Lake City, Yellowstone Park, San Francisco, Los Angeles, the Grand Canyon, Carlsbad Caverns, Dallas, Texas, and two weeks in Hawaii!   It was on that trip that my suitcase was stolen.  While I was devastated, Nana reminded me that I had a Bible in that suitcase, and she was convinced that it was all part of God’s plan.  She told me that whoever stole my suitcase would read the Bible and get saved.  And she believed it!  

        Nana wanted me to get my education.  When I graduated from seminary she told me I wasn’t through yet!   “You need to get your doctor’s degree,” she said.

        In May of 1983 I graduated for the last time with my Doctor of Ministry degree.  I called her that night and she told me how proud she was.  It was the last time I ever talked to her.

        She died in her sleep early on a Sunday morning.  Of course, she was always early on Sunday mornings. 

        Monday night, just before the Bible Study, the class sang “Happy Birthday” to me.  I then shared with them that it was also my grandmother’s birthday, and I know Nana would be proud to know I celebrated my birthday by teaching a Bible Study!  

REMEMBER YOU ARE DUST

        We observed Ash Wednesday this week.  I find the Ash Wednesday service to be the one of the most difficult services for me personally.  Ministers get to do a lot of things: celebrate births, officiate at weddings, baptize believers, dedicate babies, comfort families at funerals, and visit hospitals and nursing homes, (and preach sermons) but nothing is more difficult for me than to place ashes on the forehead of a friend (and when you have been around as long as I have, everyone in the church is my friend) and say the words, “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”  

        I am basically telling people they are going to die.  And I find that hard to do. 

        Twelve years ago in March of 2000 we were in Israel for Ash Wednesday.  Dr. Bill Leonard from the Wake Forest Divinity School was on that trip with us and he and I talked about having an Ash Wednesday service for our group.  The problem, that we did not anticipate, was where to find some ashes.  The correct way to prepare the ashes is to save the palm branches from the previous Palm Sunday.  You burn the palm branches and mix them with olive oil.  (Not cinnamon like the Lutheran Minister did one year for the community service.   People went around town for a week with a cross burned into their foreheads!)  

        We certainly didn’t pack any old palm branches to carry with us to Israel.  You don’t go into a store and purchase ashes, not even in Jerusalem.   We didn’t know what we would do. 

        The night before Ash Wednesday (Fat Tuesday) we noted a Catholic group staying at our hotel gathering for an Ash Wednesday service.  Bill talked to the priest and discovered that they were flying home the next morning and therefore were observing Ash Wednesday that night.  Bill explained our dilemma and the priest graciously said we could have all of his remaining ashes.  I don’t know if Bill told him we were a Baptist group or not!

        Ash Wednesday was a beautiful day in Jerusalem.  We visited the Garden of Gethsemane, one of the most sacred sites in the Holy Land.  There is a beautiful church, “The Church of All Nations” that rests over the traditional site where Jesus prayed, “Not my will, but thine be done.”  On the steps of this church, in the very garden where Jesus prayed and then was arrested while his disciples fled, we prayed, sang hymns, read Scripture and received the imposition of ashes. 

        Standing on the very site where Jesus yielded totally to God’s will, within sight of the Temple Mount and the old walls of Jerusalem, we received the ashes as we heard the words, “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.” 

        Never had I felt so vulnerable and weak.  One day I will surely die and I will return to the dust. 

        But then I will hear the words, “I am the resurrection and the life, the one who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live.  Whoever lives and believes in me shall never die!”

        Thanks be to God!

ITS ABOUT THE PEOPLE

      The last three Wednesday nights were some of the best attended in recent memory.  Everyone was interested in hearing from three outstanding specialists.  All three of these physicians came to our church without charge.  The arrangements were made through Wake Forest Baptist Health-Lexington Medical Center.  I was especially pleased since I serve on the hospital board, both here in Lexington and in Winston at Baptist. 

        A few weeks ago when I received my hometown newspaper, I couldn’t believe the headlines.  The local hospital was closing!  For good!   When I was growing up the town actually had two hospitals, but one closed a number of years ago.  I realized as I read the articles that the same sad story could have happened to us.  

        When our hospital board first started talking about merging into a larger system, I didn’t know what to think.  I didn’t realize how bad things were financially for us until we got into the merger process.  The truth is if we had waited much longer, it might have been too late, like it was for my hometown. 

        I found myself on the merger committee and spent a lot of time a few years ago talking about what our new hospital would look like as a part of a larger system.  I also spend a lot of time talking to my good friend, and trusted confidant, Dr. Bob Team.  Bob was so happy we were going with Baptist. 

        There are so many good things about our relationship with Baptist.  Jamie Young told me that because our two hospitals are one system, the transfer of their newborn baby Jacob to Brenner’s Children’s Hospital was seamless.  I highlight some of the other benefits below.

        My newspaper article won’t run for a couple of weeks, but after reading about my hometown hospital going out of business, here is my first draft on my March 3 article: 

IT’S ABOUT THE PEOPLE

        My mother insists that I receive my hometown newspaper, the “Hartselle (Alabama) Enquirer,” even though I told her that the only names I recognize are those in the obituaries.  It was therefore not surprising when I did not recognize the name of Sandra Smelser in a recent front page article that I read in its entirety.  She was at a candlelight vigil and was quoted as saying, “It’s the only job I’ve ever had after graduating from high school.”  With tears in her eyes she added, “It’s just like losing a family member.”

        Sandra Smelser was employed for 43 years by Hartselle Medical Center, my hometown hospital.  On January 31 of this year, the hospital closed its doors, going out of business.  Several attempts to sell the hospital or merge with a larger healthcare system were not successful.  The hospital, that first opened in 1948, stopped admitting patients a week before the end.  Signs on the doors announced the hospital was closing.  All remaining patients and Emergency Department admissions were shipped to hosptials in neighboring towns on the 31st. 

     I read the article with great interest, not only because it is a painful tragedy for my hometown, but also because I realized that it could have happened here, in Lexington. 

        Five years ago, shortly after I went on the Lexington Memorial Hospital Board of Directors, our hospital President, Mr. John Cashion, told the board that he felt it would be good for us to study the opportunities of merging into a larger healthcare system.  He understood what I as a new board member did not, that in the rapidly changing world of healthcare, small community hospitals were struggling to survive and it would only get worse.  As we spent several months systematically exploring our options, our hospital’s financial situation grew more and more serious.  The question was no longer “will we merge?” but “with whom?”

        We looked at several viable options.  Each one of the larger systems offered us something attractive.  But when we sat down for the first time with Donny Lambeth and other representatives from Baptist Hospital, it was like we had come home.  There was a sense of immediate trust.  We shared core values.  It felt like family. 

        As everyone knows, we made the decision to go with Baptist (now Wake Forest Baptist Health).  Have we been disappointed?  What do you think!

        We have a world-class cancer center, new cardiac and pulmonary rehab services, bariatric surgery, reconstructive surgery, ENT head and neck surgery, and vascular surgery.  Over 25 new physicians have been added to the staff, Wake Forest Baptist physicians now staff our much improved emergency department, outstanding specialists see patients in Lexington, the employee base has grown, the financial condition is much improved and we are beginning a major expansion of our Physical Therapy and Emergency departments.  Wake Forest Baptist has matched well over a million dollars in foundation funds, the hospital is engaged in the community in a positive way and annual capital expenditures have increased by almost 2 and one-half million dollars.  We can be assured of world-class quality health care right here, in our own little town.  But even with all these incredible improvements, there is something more important.

        At the candlelight vigil that was held on the night my hometown hospital closed, one (now former) employee said, “It’s more than just bricks and mortar.  It’s about the people.” 

        From the first day we sat down with Baptist Hospital we realized that “it’s about the people.”  It has been true from day one and it continues to be.  I’m thankful that rather than holding a candlelight vigil for what was, we continue to celebrate what will be!