New Column Norris Burkes -- (c) 916-813-8941

Subject:
Easter weekend column 2021


Column:

Was the Resurrection a Prank?

I'm grateful to have such helpful neighbors as Ysanne Edwards and her husband Mike. Nevertheless, neighbors like Ysanne fill me with a healthy fear of April Fool's Day.

As the famed prank day neared, she texted to ask, "Can we borrow your patio heater?"

"Sure, but since we're in Honduras, you'll need to call me so I can tell you how to unlock it."

"What?" she asked, surprised by the need to secure it in our gated community.

"Quarantine has put these things in hot demand."

A few minutes later, her follow-up text caught me completely off guard.

"It's not there. Your heater is missing."

My first thought was, "If this is a joke, it's not funny."

I'm guessing those were very near the words of two women on that first Easter morning.

Luke records their names as Mary and Mary Magdalene, and they went to the cemetery carrying burial spices to anoint Jesus' body.

They located Jesus' tomb, but were astounded to see the heavy stone sealing the entrance had been pushed aside like a ball of cotton.

Officials had earlier placed the stone to prevent Jesus' supporters from stealing his body and claiming he was resurrected.

The women bravely ventured inside the tomb and found only the shell of his burial clothing.

"Was this a sick prank?" Mary may have thought. "They have taken my Lord away, and I don't know where they have put him."

These two were practical women, not given to superstitions. Surely they calculated the odds of Jesus exhuming himself as nil, nonexistent.

If finding Jesus' body missing wasn't bad enough, they must have been terrified to meet the intruders — two men cascaded in light.

"Why are you looking for the living among the dead?" the men asked.

The women suddenly realized that Jesus was risen. They fell to the ground in reverence, now seeing the trick that was played against the evil that conspired to kill Jesus.

Then, as if gently scolding the women for pointlessly searching for the living in a dead zone, the two glowing guys reminded the women of Jesus' promise to return three days after he died.

The women ran off to bring word to Jesus' other followers who also wondered if this was a prank.

Now, two thousand years later, we all must consider the same question.

"Was this some kind of prank?"

I believe it to be true, of course. "But why?" you ask.

Like for many of you, the resurrection testifies to an afterlife where I will one day see my father, my brother, my best friend. It's a place I will resolve my wrongs and see my pains healed.

But my belief is also based on the practical observations of the here-and-now, more than it is on the by-and-by of someday.

For instance, while serving as a young pastor, I saw miracles of restoration. I celebrated the reunifying of broken families and saw marriages reborn. I was first-hand witness to the power of forgiveness offered by a congregation.

As a healthcare chaplain, I saw the miracle of a child resuscitated from the bottom of a pond. I sat with hospice patients as they described a world far beyond mine.

As a military chaplain, I saw resilience rebound when soldiers were pulled from the battlefield and returned to duty. I sat with many commanders who made selfless and brave decisions.

Resurrection power is all around us. Open your heart. It's no joke, no scam, no fake news. The resurrection remains the ultimate prank played against evil in all of time.

As for my neighbor, I'm hoping to have the last word.

When she finally admitted that she was pranking me, I waited 30 minutes and texted her. "Too late. I've called security and they are coming over to talk to you."

Two can play that game — even though my odds of winning her game are indeed nil, nonexistent.

Visit www.thechaplain.net or fFacebook, @theChaplainNorris. Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain.

 

 

 

Ask the Chaplain — FAQs from readers

Here's the latest column from Norris Burkes! View this email in your browser Readers:  I'm in Honduras for the next ten days. Consider how you can help the Chispa Project get kids back to school with the necessary mask protection for COVID.  https://www.chispaproject.org/help Just Ask the Chaplain   Before the quarantine, I often traveled the country, speaking to churches and civic groups. Afterward, I hosted  Q&As for audience members.   I've not yet booked post-Covid speaking engagements, so I thought today's column a good place to share the answers to some Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs).   Q. Dear Chaplin Burkes. Why does my email come back as "undelivered"? A. Dear Reader. I'm not a mime and my first name isn't Charlie.    I mention that because chaplain is commonly misspelled as Chaplin, like the 1920s English mime. My title, C-h-a-p-l-A-i-n, has two A's which spells the difference between, Chaplin, the silent actor, and Norris, the opinionated chaplain.    Q. How did you become a newspaper columnist? A. In the summer of 2001, I took my son on a Boy Scout camping trip where I met "Florida Today" editor, Tom Clifford. After I shared chaplain stories around the campfire, Clifford asked me to send him some drafts for a spirituality column. It seemed like  an easy gig until Tom asked me to begin by writing a spiritual response to the attack on the World Trade Center.   Q. How can I become a newspaper columnist? A. Unless you know Tom, you'll need to take your chances with a syndicate like Tribune Media, Hearst or Creators. As they did with me, they'll likely refer your proposal to Helen Wait. Meaning, "If you want your own column, go to Hell-n-Wait."   Q. What kind of email do you get? A. Aside from one I'll get from my mother chiding me for my potty-mouth answer to the previous question, I get sad ones, mad ones, and lots of sweet ones. The first two are those I remember most.    Q. Do you answer them all? A. Mostly, just not always in a timely or coherent manner. However, I'm no Ann Landers, so I don't offer personal advice or engage with political or theological issues.   Q. How much do you get paid? A. About half as much as I did five years ago or a tenth of what you think I get.   If I gave an actual figure, thousands of idealistic journalism students would dropout and flood the fast-food job market.   Q. Are you Democrat or Republican? A. In order to keep my meager salary, I decline to answer.   Q. How long does it take you to write your columns? A. Which column do you mean? My first draft? Or the fifteen revisions that follow? (The real answer is 12-15 hours.)   Q. Where do you get your column ideas? A. From news events, family stories, chaplain experience or the Bible. Sometimes I don't have any idea and that's why I write columns like this one.   Q. How long have you been writing this column? A. It'll be twenty years October 2021.   Q. Do you live here? A. Define "here." I write for 35 papers nationwide from my home in Auburn, Calif.   Q. Can you come to our town to speak? A. Yes. Like the Old West circuit-riding preachers, I'm a have-Bible-will-travel chaplain. I'm fully vaccinated and rearing to return to public speaking.     Q. What is your educational background? A. I have a double major in Journalism and Religion from Baylor. I have a Master of Fine Arts in Nonfiction from Pacific University and I'm halfway through my Masters in Journalism from nearby University of Nevada, Reno. (No one ever asks that question, but I thought it would be fun to tell you.)   Q. What kind of minister are you? A.I'm a "recovering Baptist."  I attend a 12-step group where we must acknowledge that there's a higher power than the Southern Baptist Convention.    The true answer depends on the day. I'm often a sad one, a confused one, a happy one, or an empathetic one.    But today – I'm just a wisecracking chaplain who hopes to have given you a smile or two.   —————   With careful spelling, send emails to comment@thechaplain.net  Or visit www.thechaplain.net or https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris. Snail mail to 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain.         Copyright © 2021 Norris Burkes, All rights reserved. You signed up to be on Norris' list! Our mailing address is: Norris Burkes 10566 Combie Rd Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 Add us to your address book unsubscribe from this list    update subscription preferences

New Column Norris Burkes -- (c) 916-813-8941

Subject:
Column for 4th week March 2021


Column:

Just Ask the Chaplain

Before the quarantine, I often traveled the country, speaking for church and civic groups. Afterward, I hosted Q&As for audience members.

I've not yet booked post-Covid speaking engagements, so I thought today's column a good place to share the answers to some Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs).

Q. Dear Chaplin Burkes. Why does my email come back as "undelivered"?
A. Dear Reader. I'm not a mime and my first name isn't Charlie.

I mention that because chaplain is commonly misspelled as Chaplin, like the 1920s English mime. My title, C-h-a-p-l-A-i-n, has two A's which spells the difference between, Chaplin, the silent actor, and Norris, the opinionated chaplain.

Q. How did you become a newspaper columnist?
A. In the summer of 2001, I took my son on a Boy Scout camping trip where I met "Florida Today" editor, Tom Clifford. After I shared chaplain stories around the campfire, Clifford asked me to send him some drafts for a spirituality column. It seemed like an easy gig until Tom asked me to begin by writing a spiritual response to the attack on the World Trade Center.

Q. How can I become a newspaper columnist?
A. Unless you know Tom, you'll need to take your chances with a syndicate like Tribune Media, Hearst or Creators. As they did with me, they'll likely refer your proposal to Helen Wait. Meaning, "If you want your own column, go to Hell-n-Wait."

Q. What kind of email do you get?
A. Aside from one I'll get from my mother chiding me for my potty-mouth answer to the previous question, I get sad ones, mad ones, and lots of sweet ones. The first two are those I remember most.

Q. Do you answer them all?
A. Mostly, just not always in a timely or coherent manner. However, I'm no Ann Landers, so I don't offer personal advice or engage with political or theological issues.

Q. How much do you get paid?
A. About half as much as I did five years ago or a tenth of what you think I get.

If I gave an actual figure, thousands of idealistic journalism students would dropout and flood the fast-food job market.

Q. Are you Democrat or Republican?
A. In order to keep my meager salary, I decline to answer.

Q. How long does it take you to write your columns?
A. Which column do you mean? My first draft? Or the fifteen revisions that follow? (The real answer is 12-15 hours.)

Q. Where do you get your column ideas?
A. From news events, family stories, chaplain experience or the Bible. Sometimes I don't have any idea and that's why I write columns like this one.

Q. How long have you been writing this column?
A. It'll be twenty years October 2021.

Q. Do you live here?
A. Define "here." I write for 35 papers nationwide from my home in Auburn, Calif.

Q. Can you come to our town to speak?
A. Yes. Like the Old West circuit-riding preachers, I'm a have-Bible-will-travel chaplain. I'm fully vaccinated and rearing to return to public speaking.

Q. What is your educational background?
A. I have a double major in Journalism and Religion from Baylor. I have a Master of Fine Arts in Nonfiction from Pacific University and I'm halfway through my Masters in Journalism from nearby University of Nevada, Reno. (No one ever asks that question, but I thought it would be fun to tell you.)

Q. What kind of minister are you?
A.I'm a "recovering Baptist." I attend a 12-step group where we must acknowledge that there's a higher power than the Southern Baptist Convention.

The true answer depends on the day. I'm often a sad one, a confused one, a happy one, or an empathetic one.

But today – I'm just a wisecracking chaplain who hopes to have given you a smile or two.

—————

With careful spelling, send emails to comment@thechaplain.net Or visit www.thechaplain.net or https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris. Snail mail to 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain.

 

 

 

Have your children ever questioned your faith?

Here's the latest column from Norris Burkes! View this email in your browser  My Daughter's Question   Beth Moore made big news in the religion world this month by announcing she's leaving the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC). Moore is the most famous SBC preacher who's never pastored a church. SBC doesn't ordain women.    Moore began her "preaching" career in the 1980s, sharing devotional lessons in a church aerobics class in Houston. Her popularity quickly outpaced other SBC celebrities giving her evangelical-superstar status estimated at $2.5 million.   But ever since the 2016 presidential election, Moore has debated how much longer she'd remain Southern Baptist. Her dilemma resembled the one my own daughter, Sara, expressed on her 16th birthday in 2000.   At the time, I was serving as a chaplain at Patrick AFB in Brevard County, Florida. From the Patrick beaches, my family often watched NASA launches, inspiring my newly minted millennial daughter to reach for the stars.   In June, the SBC hosted their annual convention in nearby Orlando and volun-told me to attend since I'm an endorsed SBC chaplain. Sara came as my plus-1 because she'd heard about the proposed changes to the Baptist Faith and Message.   The change to the heart of this SBC doctrine would say that ''the office of pastor is limited to men as qualified by Scripture."   My wife and I were concerned how this change might affect Sara. As a child, she'd voiced interest in Baptist work overseas, but she'd been quiet on the matter for some years.   On the day of the debate, still wearing my uniform, I marched with my daughter onto the crowded convention floor and found our seats. The meeting began with top-billed Christian musicians and rousing preaching. But when it was time for the business portion, the pep rally ground to a sudden halt with a, bored meeting. (Pun intended.)    The proposal was quickly made and adopted – without a single word of debate. In one sweeping moment, before the eyes of my firstborn, the Southern Baptist Convention boldly declared that God does not want women pastors.   That night, while walking to the car, I sensed this was not my proudest pastor/dad moment. And that's when Sara fired her question.   "So Dad, how much longer are WE going to be Southern Baptist?"   I stopped short in the parking lot, as if I'd lost my keys. The darkness declared her own unspoken answer: "No longer."    I was quiet, but inside I was outraged. Sara was reaching for the stars, but this gray-haired old boys' club was telling her there was something God would not allow her to be. They were trying to cancel her launch.   Still, I wasn't prepared to leave my church. I was proud of my SBC upbringing. The Baptist doctrine I preached had redeeming qualities. Members were encouraged to interpret scripture for themselves. Congregations enjoyed autonomy. Together, SBC churches had forged a path of religious liberty and separation of church and state.    Yet today, many denominations, including my own, are failing to outgrow the racist and sexist habits on which they were founded. America's churches remain segregated. Many churches are shrinking as our young people, striving to be better than their parents, no longer find faith without inclusion.     But please don't worry about Sara. She's never been one to be told she couldn't do something. While she never did become a missionary, she did move to Honduras with her husband and new baby where she does God's work establishing libraries in elementary schools. (ChispaProject.org)   No worries for me either. Twenty years later, the SBC is still endorsing me. (It's pretty clear the higher-ups don't read my column.)    And regardless of how you feel about Beth Moore or Southern Baptists, I believe her Twitter advice is relevant to everyone calling themselves a Christ-follower.   "I can't say this strongly enough," she recently tweeted. "Stay in your Bibles. Read the prophets & watch for verses noting God's displeasure over injustice. Note divine judgment. Start with Isaiah. Pour over the Gospels & watch what compelled & repelled Jesus. Read Acts thru Revelation. Read, read, READ."   Do this and your faith will make your kids proud regardless of what convention they attend.   Visit www.thechaplain.net or https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris. Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain.         Copyright © 2021 Norris Burkes, All rights reserved. You signed up to be on Norris' list! Our mailing address is: Norris Burkes 10566 Combie Rd Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 Add us to your address book unsubscribe from this list    update subscription preferences

New Column Norris Burkes -- (c) 916-813-8941

Subject:
Column for 19-21 March 2021


Column:

My Daughter's Question

Beth Moore made big news in the religion world this month by announcing she's leaving the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC). Moore is the most famous SBC preacher who's never pastored a church. SBC doesn't ordain women.

Moore began her "preaching" career in the 1980s, sharing devotional lessons in a church aerobics class in Houston. Her popularity quickly outpaced other SBC celebrities giving her evangelical-superstar status estimated at $2.5 million.

But ever since the 2016 presidential election, Moore has debated how much longer she'd remain Southern Baptist. Her dilemma resembled the one my own daughter, Sara, expressed on her 16th birthday in 2000.

At the time, I was serving as a chaplain at Patrick AFB in Brevard County, Florida. From the Patrick beaches, my family often watched NASA launches, inspiring my newly minted millennial daughter to reach for the stars.

In June, the SBC hosted their annual convention in nearby Orlando and volun-told me to attend since I'm an endorsed SBC chaplain. Sara came as my plus-1 because she'd heard about the proposed changes to the Baptist Faith and Message.

The change to the heart of this SBC doctrine would say that ''the office of pastor is limited to men as qualified by Scripture."

My wife and I were concerned how this change might affect Sara. As a child, she'd voiced interest in Baptist work overseas, but she'd been quiet on the matter for some years.

On the day of the debate, still wearing my uniform, I marched with my daughter onto the crowded convention floor and found our seats. The meeting began with top-billed Christian musicians and rousing preaching. But when it was time for the business portion, the pep rally ground to a sudden halt with a, bored meeting. (Pun intended.)

The proposal was quickly made and adopted – without a single word of debate. In one sweeping moment, before the eyes of my firstborn, the Southern Baptist Convention boldly declared that God does not want women pastors.

That night, while walking to the car, I sensed this was not my proudest pastor/dad moment. And that's when Sara fired her question.

"So Dad, how much longer are WE going to be Southern Baptist?"

I stopped short in the parking lot, as if I'd lost my keys. The darkness declared her own unspoken answer: "No longer."

I was quiet, but inside I was outraged. Sara was reaching for the stars, but this gray-haired old boys' club was telling her there was something God would not allow her to be. They were trying to cancel her launch.

Still, I wasn't prepared to leave my church. I was proud of my SBC upbringing. The Baptist doctrine I preached had redeeming qualities. Members were encouraged to interpret scripture for themselves. Congregations enjoyed autonomy. Together, SBC churches had forged a path of religious liberty and separation of church and state.

Yet today, many denominations, including my own, are failing to outgrow the racist and sexist habits on which they were founded. America's churches remain segregated. Many churches are shrinking as our young people, striving to be better than their parents, no longer find faith without inclusion.

But please don't worry about Sara. She's never been one to be told she couldn't do something. While she never did become a missionary, she did move to Honduras with her husband and new baby where she does God's work establishing libraries in elementary schools. (ChispaProject.org)

No worries for me either. Twenty years later, the SBC is still endorsing me. (It's pretty clear the higher-ups don't read my column.)

And regardless of how you feel about Beth Moore or Southern Baptists, I believe her Twitter advice is relevant to everyone calling themselves a Christ-follower.

"I can't say this strongly enough," she recently tweeted. "Stay in your Bibles. Read the prophets & watch for verses noting God's displeasure over injustice. Note divine judgment. Start with Isaiah. Pour over the Gospels & watch what compelled & repelled Jesus. Read Acts thru Revelation. Read, read, READ."

Do this and your faith will make your kids proud regardless of what convention they attend.

Visit www.thechaplain.net or https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris. Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain.

 

 

 

Seuss -- Changing the tune of Racism

Here's the latest column from Norris Burkes! View this email in your browser Changing the Tune of Racism, One Camp Song at a Time   The literary world erupted last week over the decision to discontinue five Dr. Seuss books because of potentially offensive racial depictions.   In a statement released on the author's birthday, Dr. Seuss Enterprises defended their decision saying, "These books portray people in ways that are hurtful and wrong.''    Whether you agree or not with the Seuss organization, I ask that you set aside your judgement to consider the similarities with the confession my wife made this week.    I'm pretty convinced she's not a racist, but I should let you be the judge of that.   She tells me that she once participated in the singing of a song called "Fried Rice" at her Jr. high church camp.   Fried Rice. Fried Rice Cheese and bologna  And after the Macaroni We'll have onions, pickles and pretzels And then we'll have some more Fried Rice. Fried Rice Fried rice.   The song isn't offensive until heard with the mannerisms the campers gave it.    Apparently, they sang first in a slow pace, then at fast clip, then with infantile inflections and then … wait for it … in "Chinese" style.   In that version, a few kids stretched out their eyes, while the full choir gave the song a stereotypical accent of an Asian attempting English words. The title became "Flied Lice" and then they used Rs and Ls to inject a bigoted impression into the lyrics.      Yup. They sure did. At church camp!   Racist, right?   No, not so much. I didn't write this to call out my wife for bigotry. In fact, we wrote this together to uncover what we might learn about our own hidden biases from racial impressions we've shared in our past.   Becky confesses that she sang in the pervasive culture of 1960s childhood. But as she matured and learned of other cultures, she awoke to the hurtful nature of the accent that bullied and separated people.   Moreover, she learned to change her tune.   She invited exchange students into our home from Japan, Germany and France. She took a classroom full of Cambodian immigrants and learned all their names in the first day. As a teacher, she stocked her classroom library with storybooks that represented her students.   In short, when she realized how the musical impression was shortsighted and damaging, she took responsibility for what she learned.    I guess that's the meaning conveyed in the current expression, "Woke." It's an aha-moment when one realizes that something ain't right and it needs to change. It's not a state of being, but a decision we continually make.   By all accounts, Theodor Seuss Geisel was a political radical for a guy born in 1904. His books covered ecology, nuclear proliferation and the imprudence of America's isolationist view.   However, when you do a quick Google image search of "Seuss," you'll see his advertising work of the 30s and 40s that relied on a heavy use of racial caricatures. So, like all of us, he had some learning to do.   Fortunately, by the mid 70s the good doctor showed signs of an awakening. In a 1976 interview he called those cartoons, "embarrassingly badly drawn, and they're full of many snap judgements." By 1978, he agreed to remove the character's pigtail and the yellow coloring from the character's skin in Mulberry Street.   I wish Dr. Seuss Enterprises was a quicker learner, but like my wife, his company showed some responsibility toward the truth as they were awakened to it.     To be clear, I don't see my wife or Seuss as racists. They were a product of their culture. I respect the fact that when faced with the issue, they started to change.   It's a principle the Apostle Paul so eloquently expressed in his writing to the Church at Corinth. "When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things" (1 Corinthians 13:1).   In the matter of systemic racism, this column doesn't even touch the tip of the proverbial iceberg. There are many conversations yet to be had and many more childish things to put aside as we continue to get "woke" and being the people, we truly want to be.        Visit www.thechaplain.net or https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris. Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain.       Copyright © 2021 Norris Burkes, All rights reserved. You signed up to be on Norris' list! Our mailing address is: Norris Burkes 10566 Combie Rd Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 Add us to your address book unsubscribe from this list    update subscription preferences

New Column Norris Burkes -- (c) 916-813-8941

Subject:
Column 12-14 March 2021


Column:

Changing the Tune of Racism, One Camp Song at a Time

The literary world erupted last week over the decision to discontinue five Dr. Seuss books because of potentially offensive racial depictions.

In a statement released on the author's birthday, Dr. Seuss Enterprises defended their decision saying, "These books portray people in ways that are hurtful and wrong.''

Whether you agree or not with the Seuss organization, I ask that you set aside your judgement to consider the similarities with the confession my wife made this week.

I'm pretty convinced she's not a racist, but I should let you be the judge of that.

She tells me that she once participated in the singing of a song called "Fried Rice" at her Jr. high church camp.

Fried Rice. Fried Rice
Cheese and bologna
And after the Macaroni
We'll have onions, pickles and pretzels
And then we'll have some more Fried Rice.
Fried Rice Fried rice.

The song isn't offensive until heard with the mannerisms the campers gave it.

Apparently, they sang first in a slow pace, then at fast clip, then with infantile inflections and then … wait for it … in "Chinese" style.

In that version, a few kids stretched out their eyes, while the full choir gave the song a stereotypical accent of an Asian attempting English words. The title became "Flied Lice" and then they used Rs and Ls to inject a bigoted impression into the lyrics.

Yup. They sure did. At church camp!

Racist, right?

No, not so much. I didn't write this to call out my wife for bigotry. In fact, we wrote this together to uncover what we might learn about our own hidden biases from racial impressions we've shared in our past.

Becky confesses that she sang in the pervasive culture of 1960s childhood. But as she matured and learned of other cultures, she awoke to the hurtful nature of the accent that bullied and separated people.

Moreover, she learned to change her tune.

She invited exchange students into our home from Japan, Germany and France. She took a classroom full of Cambodian immigrants and learned all their names in the first day. As a teacher, she stocked her classroom library with storybooks that represented her students.

In short, when she realized how the musical impression was shortsighted and damaging, she took responsibility for what she learned.

I guess that's the meaning conveyed in the current expression, "Woke." It's an aha-moment when one realizes that something ain't right and it needs to change. It's not a state of being, but a decision we continually make.

By all accounts, Theodor Seuss Geisel was a political radical for a guy born in 1904. His books covered ecology, nuclear proliferation and the imprudence of America's isolationist view.

However, when you do a quick Google image search of "Seuss," you'll see his advertising work of the 30s and 40s that relied on a heavy use of racial caricatures. So, like all of us, he had some learning to do.

Fortunately, by the mid 70s the good doctor showed signs of an awakening. In a 1976 interview he called those cartoons, "embarrassingly badly drawn, and they're full of many snap judgements." By 1978, he agreed to remove the character's pigtail and the yellow coloring from the character's skin in Mulberry Street.

I wish Dr. Seuss Enterprises was a quicker learner, but like my wife, his company showed some responsibility toward the truth as they were awakened to it.

To be clear, I don't see my wife or Seuss as racists. They were a product of their culture. I respect the fact that when faced with the issue, they started to change.

It's a principle the Apostle Paul so eloquently expressed in his writing to the Church at Corinth. "When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things" (1 Corinthians 13:1).

In the matter of systemic racism, this column doesn't even touch the tip of the proverbial iceberg. There are many conversations yet to be had and many more childish things to put aside as we continue to get "woke" and being the people, we truly want to be.



Visit www.thechaplain.net or https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris. Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain.

 

 

 

A Brother's Choice

What would you have done?

Here's the latest column from Norris Burkes! View this email in your browser   A Brother's Choice   I stood before my brother's grave this week, holding my mother while my wife held me.   "I should have given him more time," I whispered to my wife.   "Pardon," she said, unable to understand my quivering words.   I cleared my throat to rephrase.    "I should have asked for more time when the palliative-care nurse suggested we discontinue his life support."   "No," she said, "He had COVID. You did all you could do."    The flash of doubt from her chaplain/husband surely surprised her. After all, she knew that I'd helped to redirect the same uncertainty in scores of families I'd met in my role on the hospital palliative-care team.   Our team consisted of a chaplain, nurse, social worker and doctor who followed the Mayo Clinic guidelines to "… offer pain and symptom management and emotional and spiritual support [in the] face of a chronic, debilitating or life-threatening illness."   Before COVID, our team typically met in a conference room where the family often asked us to do "everything."    The doctor would explain what "everything" meant. "If your loved one's heart stops, we will do chest compressions and electric shock. If he stops breathing, we will put a tube down his throat to help him breathe."   The hard part was hearing her add, "And if need be, we'll make an incision in his windpipe to insert a more permanent tube. Later we might add a feeding tube through his stomach."   After a long meaningful silence, the doctor would ask, "But for what purpose? To make him better?"    Another pause. "He won't get better."    The doctor's questions voiced the two requirements that must be met for us to do "everything."  First, the patient has to want it. Second, it must be helpful. For many patients, including my brother, neither was true.   The doctor finally got to the part where she suggested a better option than "everything."    "How about we do nothing? What might happen if we disconnect the mechanical assistance and let the natural process occur with dignity and without pain?"   I can't count how many families studied their laps as they insisted they couldn't possibly make that decision. "Please," they would say, "just keep doing everything. We are leaving this in God's hands."   I knew that feeling. I wanted to beg that they keep doing everything for my brother.   But instead, I remembered the countless occasions where the team doctor turned her attention in my direction to answer this very issue.    She'd clear her throat and, like a soccer player directing the ball to another player for the goal, signal my turn to talk.   I'd reserve a moment of stillness, considering how I might warn the family.  "Leaving it up to God," in this context, was often an expression of procrastination rather than faith.    The saying seems to convey more of a fear that God can't answer the tough questions. At that point, it quickly becomes a religious coin toss between denial and faith.    But worst of all, it highlights a contradiction: If we're really "leaving it up to God," why do we need these machines to keep the ball in play? If we truly left it up to God, we wouldn't be playing tug of war with the patient's soul.    It was this second point that my wife was trying to make this week. "Might God's will have been expressed in your brother's dignified death just as it was in his honorable life?"   I did not ask the palliative care nurse to give my brother more time. On day 15, I truly turned it over to God. I consented to remove his so called "life-support," and my brother was welcomed into God's hands.    "Well done, good and faithful servant."  Matthew 25:23       Visit www.thechaplain.net or https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris. Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain.     Copyright © 2021 Norris Burkes, All rights reserved. You signed up to be on Norris' list! Our mailing address is: Norris Burkes 10566 Combie Rd Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 Add us to your address book unsubscribe from this list    update subscription preferences