American Heroes

It's American Hero Day at Smaller Manhattans.

Yuliya Timoshenko/ Юлія Тимошенко, former prime minister of Ukraine/ Украина (see, Cyrillic isn't so tough) recently co-wrote an interesting opinion piece in the Wall Street Journal. You don't have to read it.  Actually I was more struck by the article's title than the content: Letter from a Kiev Jail, which is where Timoshenko is these days. Of course the title borrows from Martin Luther King's Letter from a Birmingham Jail, written in 1963. So this got me thinking again about King's letter, which I read for the first time about 35 years ago.

King and his memorial in Washington, DC are in the news, and I've been hearing snatches of King's "I Have a Dream" speech on the radio, and quotes in print.  "I Have a Dream" is inspiring- no wonder it gets such attention. But I find the Letter to be much more compelling: when I think of King, I think Birmingham, not DC. In fact, the pith of the Dream comes from the Letter.  Part of what makes the Letter better is that, unlike the lovely Dream speech which is a sermon being preached to the choir (which is not a criticism), King wrote his letter to a group of clergymen who did not share his "urgency of now."¹ So it's direct, thorough, and not very charming; but no less eloquent than the Dream speech.

Letter from a Birmingham Jail takes about 20 minutes to read. If you haven't read it before, you may be surprised by its sweep and depth, and the people who influenced King's thinking. Reading it again today reminds me that like the prophets of antiquity, people may still be chosen by God to accomplish a single great and necessary thing.

If you aren't inclined to read the whole letter right now, that's ok. Here is a critical paragraph from the middle:

"We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God-given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jetlike speed toward gaining political independence, but we still creep at horse-and-buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging dark of segregation to say, "Wait." But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six-year-old daughter why she can't go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five-year-old son who is asking: "Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?"; when you take a cross-country drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading "white" and "colored"; when your first name becomes "nigger," your middle name becomes "boy" (however old you are) and your last name becomes "John," and your wife and mother are never given the respected title "Mrs."; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you go forever fighting a degenerating sense of "nobodiness" then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait. There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair. I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience."

And here is that same paragraph paraphrased in the Dream speech:

There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream." ²

 American Hero

I love "Somewhere over the Rainbow."  It's a perfect song, especially with the prologue ³ that didn't make it into the Wizard of Oz.  In 2001 it was voted the best song of the 20th century, and I agree that it is.  I don't know if there's been a similar vote for prose, but I can't think of any more significant than this letter, written by one of my heroes.

Speaking of heroes, here's another one.  Even though he isn't mentioned in King's Letter or Dream, the influence is there. Here's a bit from one of his speeches:

"What, to the American slave, is your 4th of July?  I answer: a day that reveals to him, more than all other days in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim.  To him, your celebration is a sham; your boasted liberty, an unholy license; your national greatness, swelling vanity; your sounds of rejoicing are empty and heartless; your denunciations of tyrants, brass-fronted impudence; your shouts of liberty and equality, hollow mockery; your prayers and hymns, your sermons and thanksgivings, with all your religious parade, and solemnity, are, to him, mere bombast, fraud, deception, impiety, and hypocrisy—a thin veil to cover up crimes which would disgrace a nation of savages.  There is not a nation on the earth guilty of practices, more shocking and bloody, than are the people of these United States, at this very hour.  Go where you may, search where you will, roam through all the monarchies and despotisms of the old world, travel through South America, search out every abuse, and when you have found the last, lay your facts by the side of the everyday practices of this nation, and you will say with me, that for revolting barbarity and shameless hypocrisy, America reigns without a rival."

Yeah, that's ummm...William Wilberforce?  Mr. Bleeding Kansas, John Brown?  Harriet Beecher Stowe?  Nope.  That's the escaped slave, orator, author, agitator and abolitionist Frederick Douglass. Douglass' words don't roll off the tongue as easily as King's, but he was speaking in a more formal age.

You may recall how rudely the prophet Jeremiah scolded the Temple personnel 2,600 years ago:

"Will you steal, murder, commit adultery, swear falsely, burn incense to Baal, and go after other gods that you have not known, and then come and stand before me in this house, which is called by my name, and say, 'We are delivered!'--only to go on doing all these abominations?  Has this house, which is called by my name, become a den of thieves in your eyes?  Behold, I myself have seen it, says the LORD.  Go now to my place that was in Shiloh, where I made my name dwell at first, and see what I did to it for the wickedness of my people Israel.  And now, because you have done all these things, says the LORD, and when I spoke to you persistently you did not listen, and when I called you, you did not answer, therefore I will do to the house which is called by my name, and in which you trust, and to the place which I gave to you and to your fathers, as I did to Shiloh.  And I will cast you out of my sight, as I cast out all your kinsmen, all the offspring of Ephraim."

You can hear all of Jeremiah's righteous anger and indignation in Douglass.  I imagine that Douglass was also well aware of Jeremiah even as he spoke on that 4th of July.

 American Hero

The older I get, the more I'm grateful that these two men dedicated their lives to cleansing my dear country, America, of this great sin.  Thank y'all both.  I know you can hear me.




1. I love King's phrase "the urgency of now."  And I like to hear it in two songs by Smashing Pumpkins: Tonight, Tonight; and 1979.

2. It always pays to look at the wider context of any Bible quote; King surely expected his Bible-literate listeners to do so.  That bit is from Amos 5: "I hate, I despise your feasts, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.  22 Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and cereal offerings, I will not accept them, and the peace offerings of your fatted beasts I will not look upon.  23 Take away from me the noise of your songs; to the melody of your harps I will not listen.  24 But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.   25 "Did you bring to me sacrifices and offerings the forty years in the wilderness, O house of Israel?  26 You shall take up Sakkuth your king, and Kaiwan your star-god, your images, which you made for yourselves; 27 therefore I will take you into exile beyond Damascus," says the LORD, whose name is the God of hosts."

Years later, when Jeremiah laid into the Temple staff, he may have been thinking of Amos a tiny bit.

3. When all the world is a hopeless jumble
And the raindrops tumble all around
Heaven opens a magic lane
When all the clouds darken up the skyway
There's a rainbow highway to be found
Leading from your window pane
To a place behind the sun
Just a step beyond the rain

Somewhere over the rainbow....

Right Answer Wrong Question

In Wednesday Sunday School I try to keep the class at a low boil all the time so the kids stay energized. There's usually an urgency to getting fast answers to questions, and often a child will belt out a wrong answer that's an excellent answer to a question I haven't asked. When possible, I will shortly follow a wrong answer with a new question that affirms that wrong answer, like so:

"Somebody remind me what happened fifty days after Easter...the Ascension! No, that's a good answer, though. C'mon, fifty days after Easter...umm, Pentecost! Yes."

And we discuss whatever was in the lesson plan about Pentecost. Then:

"Hey, speaking of stuff after Easter, what happened after forty days? Jesus went to Heaven! Yes, which is called? The Ascension! Yes!"

Another example:

"Who told the Israelites that God would let bad stuff happen to the Temple just like Shiloh? Isaiah! No, guess again. Samuel? Nope; this prophet also said to stop worshiping baby-eating false gods. Jeremiah! Yes! And who heard God call him three times? Samuel? There ya go. And who said a virgin would have a baby? Isaiah. Yes."

I don't have any empirical evidence (I don't even have quizzes) but I almost can see the open circuits closing when the kids connect an old wrong answer to a new right question.

Classroom Management

In Wednesday Sunday School I rarely need to admonish a child. Last week two boys were distracting each other. I walk over to where they are engaged in footplay, wait for 'em to notice me. They look up. I put on a quizzical expression and ask, "Are y'all flirting?"

End of problem.

Next week my Faithful Bouncer will separate them.

Fightin' Feti

Last night we started with the miraculous conception & birth of Isaac, and stopped as Moses returned to Egypt. In between we covered yet another in a series of miraculous conceptions, that of Jacob & Esau. These conceptions are not as miraculous as Jesus' conception; nevertheless, when a heretofore barren marriage becomes fruitful due to divine intervention, it's a miracle.

Here's the Bible lead-in to the story:

And Isaac prayed to the LORD for his wife, because she was barren; and the LORD granted his prayer, and Rebekah his wife conceived. 22 The children struggled together within her; and she said, "If it is thus, why do I live?" (Genesis 25)

I like to dramatize that Jacob and Esau don't get along even before they were born. I take two rubber fetuses out of my prop bag.

"Hey, who're these babies? Who are the two boys that Isaac and Rebekah had? Umm, Jacob and Esau? That's right, and they already don't get along. Look, I'm Rebekah, here they are in my womb, fighting [I bang them into each other in front of my stomach like Punch & Judy puppets, accompanied by grunting sounds]. "There ain't enough room in this womb for the two of us! Then you get out! No, you get out!" And Rebekah is groaning, "Oww, y'all settle down in there!" That's weird! What's weird? Those things. What things? Those babies, they're weird looking. Oh yeah? I think they're cute [I give 'em a kiss], they look like my kids when they were growing in my wife...would you like to kiss them? No! Hey now, don't get squeamish on me, this is what you looked like when you were a couple of months old and still in your momma....and I bet she loved you even if you thought you were weird-looking." This provides an intro to spend a couple of minutes on the unborn: they're already people, even if they're weird-looking; even when they were just a dot of a fertilized egg, they were people; everyone looks like this at some point; it's normal.

After the kids have settled back down we return to the story; but not until they are ok with the idea that these squirmy little goobers are already human beings. It's just the first of many appearances that the rubber feti will make during the catechetical year as part of an ongoing pro-life theme.

Fine Art Handout 3: Chagall

When I used to teach RCIA and adult ed, I never worried much about engaging people's imaginations. But it's a requirement for teaching kids, so I am always on the lookout for anything beyond the classroom that can help me do that: scenes from movies such as Prince of Egypt; excerpts from stories such as A Christmas Carol; newspaper articles; sticks, bones, and rags; and especially fine art. I've posted recently about my preference for art that isn't aimed specifically at kids, but rather art that is the best the world has to offer.

Marriage and children are big topics in Wednesday Sunday School. I give the Bible and the Church every opportunity to teach this valuable life template:

Get married; stay married; have children.

But as often as marriage comes up in my class, I've never seen anything on the subject that really grabbed my imagination. At least not until this weekend, when I surfed into yet another piece of art that will work perfectly: Marc Chagall's Wedding from 1910.

Sweet, isn't it? Little angels, pretty flowers, an affecting and childlike innocence. We won't discuss any of that in class unless the kids bring it up. See, that's looking at the painting as an illustration of marriage; that's ok, but Chagall isn't illustrating marriage, he's painting a portrait of marriage. Whose marriage? My modest amount of research didn't provide an answer.  That suits me just fine: I can proceed with my own opinion. I think it's Chagall and his wife Bella, whom he met in 1909. What a pretty thing she was:

 bella Bella

They were engaged in 1910, but not married until 1915: her prosperous parents weren't keen on Chagall until he showed he could earn a proper living as an artist. But didn't he paint this Wedding in 1910? Yes: he painted the wedding he longed for, created a portrait of his marriage ahead of time. Does that bride look like Bella, and the man Chagall? I say yes. We may discuss Marc and Bella a bit in class, just to broaden the kids' horizons, but they aren't the point of the portrait either. So what is Chagall's point? Let's see.

Right off, I don't believe this is primarily a painting of Marc Chagall and Bella Rosenfeld: rather, Chagall  has made a wedding portrait of Adam and Eve, using himself and Bella as models. Why does he do this? Because he sees his longing to be attached to Bella through the lens of Adam's longing for, and attachment to, Eve. But why would Chagall necessarily think of Genesis when he thought of marriage? Because when little Moishe Segal was growing up in Vitebsk, Russia, he attended Jewish grade school.

Let's look at key bits of Genesis Chapter 2: "It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him."...but for the man there was not found a helper fit for him. So the LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and while he slept took one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh; and the rib which the LORD God had taken from the man he made into a woman and brought her to the man. Then the man said, "This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh...Therefore a man leaves his father and his mother and clings to his wife, and they become one flesh. And the man and his wife were both naked, and were not ashamed."

Cling is a critical word. The verb to cling/ to cleave in Hebrew is dabak, דָּבַק. Yes, it means to cling, to adhere, to stay with. But it also means to pursue, to overtake. I like that.

See how Adam holds Eve: he is tender, but forceful: even her arms are caught in his urgent embrace. The couple is not side by side; not arm in arm; not hugging each other. No. He holds onto her; not vice versa. And though she's caught in his arms, he's not elated or victorious: he's profoundly relieved. At last, at last, bone of his bone, he presses Eve close to his left side, where his heart beats.  And he doesn't look at her, but bends a bit to inhale her scent. I don't know how to artfully express that, but I well know its drug-like effect.

Eve is nonplussed by Adam's intensity; surprised even. But to find your rib among a multitude- well, that's the achievement of a lifetime. And once you have it back, never let her go*, as the song says.

Oh yeah, the point. Chagall's point is that this is what he expects his marriage to be. Not so much because he uniquely loves Bella (although he does), but because every marriage should be like the first one. I'm especially moved because he's portrayed my wedding & marriage as much as his own, or Adam's. Isn't it amazing that in 1910 he understood marriage well enough to say so much about it while yet remaining unmarried himself? Well, yes; but through the winsome Genesis account of how God gave Adam his mate, even the unmarried Chagall knew that a man shouldn't be alone; a man misses his rib and wants that one-and-only missing rib to be pressed once again against his heart; that his wife is bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh; and that he is impatient to leave his family and cling to her. And of course that they'd be naked, and not ashamed, and make some babies, but the kids don't need a picture of that.

We already cover all of this in class; but we never had the right image until now.


*Some Enchanted Evening

Catholic Time

A couple of days ago I posted about making quick handouts for my Catechism class. One of them included this image of St. Michael's Church (Michaeliskirche) in Hildesheim (Hilda's Home, a Saxon goddess), Germany:

I was tempted then to say something about the pattern of the snow in the shaded foreground, but it wasn't relevant to the subject of catechetical handouts. But I'll say something about it today since it points to something important about Catholicism.

Germany sits higher on Earth's globe than America does (excepting Alaska). Hildesheim lies at the 52nd parallel, further north than Winnipeg, Manitoba. So at the winter solstice, the sun doesn't get very high, and even at noon will cast long shadows. Looking at the shadow in the foreground, you can see that beyond the shadow there's almost no snow.

So I was looking at the snow and thinking that the building behind the photographer lay on an east-west axis. And because the edge of the shadow is parallel to the church, then the church lies on an east-west axis as well. Of course this makes sense: Catholic churches are traditionally "oriented" to face the rising sun. And if the east-west orientation is correct, the shadow of the leftmost tower tells us it's a bit before noon, on a day near December 21.

Idly curious about just how well-aligned the church was to true East, I had a look on Google Earth:

That's odd: the church is oriented a bit North of true East. Maybe it was oriented to align with where the sun would rise on St. Michael's feastday...that'd be September 29. The answer is no, because after the Sept 21 Equinox, the sun will rise and set in the South; look at Hildesheim's solar chart for Sept 29:

The yellow line shows the sun rising about 3 degrees South of 90 East, not North. But wait a sec, Europe used the less-accurate Julian calendar when construction of St. Michael's began in AD 1001. When the Church replaced the Julian calendar with the Gregorian in 1582, there was a 10-day error between the sun and the calendar. In 1001, there was a 6-day error. To get the proper solar chart for Sep 29, 1001, we have to subtract 6 days, which gives us Sept 23. But that date still has the sun rise a couple of degrees south of East.

Huh...suppose instead of using the saint's feastday, we go with Sept 21, the Equinox? Maybe the builders fully intended to lay the church out at 90 degrees East by measuring at dawn on September 21. Yes, but we already know that wouldn't get them true East; but maybe they didn't know. If we subtract 6 days to correct the Julian error, we have Hildesheim's chart for Sept 15:

    That's more like it. The sun rises about 4.5 degrees North of East, and sets about 4.5 degrees North of West. By the way, the sunset & sunrise are figured from the top edge of the sun. The software also accounts for where Hildesheim lies within its time zone: you can see how the yellow 12 representing clock noon doesn't quite match the sun's noon, which is always 180d South. But no-one knows at what instant after the sun broke the local horizon on Sept 21, AD 1001 (Julian calendar) the authorities might have marked the church's axis. And the sun itself is over half a degree wide, so anything between a 4 and 5 degree northward skew on the church's alignment would be extremely accurate.

I inserted the above enlarged image into an Autocad drawing and measured the angle of skew: despite the fuzziness, I get 4 degrees. How about that.

So what does this have to do with Catholicism? Well, consider that in Genesis God saw that all he created was good. And that even after the Fall, God used his physical creation to show his promise to Noah (the Rainbow); to show the Israelites when to break camp (the Shekhinah cloud); and to show the Magi where Jesus was born (the star). So the Catholic Church still stays in touch with God through his creation, and vice versa. We have churches "oriented" to the East, or a saint's feastday dawn; a holiday whose date is calculated each year based on the movement of the Moon and the Sun (Easter); and another which was probably originally observed on the Winter Solstice (Christmas). Given the intimate relationship the Church maintains with God through the physical world, it's no surprise that it was she who recognized the 1-day-per-128-years error in the Julian calendar, and had the knowledge and the authority to fix it.

Maybe Not the Most Underappreciated

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