The Scars Disappear

 

Dear Boo and Bubble,

It seems that so much of our societal dialogue these days focuses on differences—race, gender, religion, political persuasion, orientations. Rather than seeing these differences as fascinating and opportunities to learn, they tend to become barriers to our abilities to know and understand each other. Quite frankly, it takes a lot of work…sometimes uncomfortable work…to get to know someone who’s different from you. Our tendency is to hide behind the curtain of comfort that homogeny provides. We feel safe and secure surrounded by familiar environs, but I would proffer from my own life’s experience that your world broadens, and you gain strength of character by diving into the waters of the unfamiliar.

I understand that so much of our hesitancy rests on the flimsy superficial excuse of the visual. It could be the color of skin or the not so pretty face or perhaps someone’s weight that deters us from going further or digging deeper. Think of Christmas presents under a tree, all deliciously wrapped in elegant shiny paper with huge, festive bows…but for one exception which is haphazardly swathed in newspaper, barely taped together. In the mad scramble to get things open, I would imagine this less attractive present with no outward appeal would be the last. Curiosity might serve as its only salvation. What a surprise, however, when its contents prove to be the most interesting gift of all—something with a value lasting longer than only into the afternoon of Christmas Day. How sad it would be to have never opened it, letting its difference be the barrier.

This reminds me of an experience Captain and I had several years ago when I was writing articles for Carolina Mountain Life Magazine, a local publication that covers the goings on in our area. My assignment (with Captain being my photographer) was to interview a man who had been burned over 95% of his body when the Louisiana oil rig on which he worked blew up. Miraculously, he survived not only the initial incident but the aftermath of operations and skin grafts that followed. He had moved to the mountains because his body no longer had any sweat glands, and he needed a climate with lower temperatures and humidity in which to live.

Even with the foreknowledge of his circumstance, it was very difficult seeing him for the first time. Because of the grafting, his skin had no flexibility and wrapped around his face and arms like taut cellophane. He had no nose, just nostrils…and his eyes were only slits without benefit of lids or brows. He explained that periodically he had to endure ongoing surgeries to cut Z patterns into his skin to relieve the tightness. His arms were so covered in scars, it seemed like someone had taken a switchblade to him.

We talked for several hours as he described the wrenching details of the accident, his months in the hospital, the agonizing procedures necessary to keep him alive, and the long slog to some semblance of recovery. Towards the end of the interview, my questions pivoted to his present life…how he had acclimated to the mountains and, perhaps more importantly, how the community had accepted him. To answer, he told us a simple story with an ending so profound, both Captain and I remain affected by it.

“I went into McDonald’s the other day to get something to eat. There was a table full of children on my right as I walked in. At the sight of me, they stopped eating and talking and began staring in fright. Of course, I couldn’t help but notice.

Instead of heading straight to the counter to place my order, I decided to go over and talk to them. I told them what had happened to me and rolled up my shirtsleeve to show them my arm. We talked about how important it was to stay away from fire…how dangerous it was and how something could go wrong in an instant. They asked if they could touch my skin and I let them. By the end of our conversation, we had become friends.

You see…when you get to know me, my scars disappear.”

Perhaps this mantra should be rephrased to broaden its application and say, “When you get to know me, our differences will disappear.”

The Least of These

 

Dear Boo and Bubble,

 Today, the sun is finally out after what seems like weeks of uninterrupted gray overcast skies that persistently dropped snow after snow, inches at a time all over our landscape. It is most welcome…a real mood lifter…and even more so an appropriate metaphor, because today is also January 20,2021—inauguration day. At noon, our country will come under the governance of a new president with a vision immensely divergent from that of the last four years. It gives us an opportunity to come out from under the grayest of clouds known as 2020 which brought an unprecedented trio of disasters to our shores: a pandemic with its commensurate illness, death, and economic destruction; horrific visuals of deaths of black citizens that picked the scab of the centuries-old wound of unresolved racial strife simmering in this country; and an attempted undermining of our electoral process based upon lies about fraud that culminated in a seditious riot on our nation’s Capitol building with the intent of doing harm to members of the senior leadership. The times are unprecedented and will require extraordinary capabilities to meet them. My heart, thoughts and prayers go out to President Biden as he embarks on the task.

I’ve done some personal soul searching the last few months as these events roiled our public discourse, asking myself what has been revealed about us as a society as it all unfolded. What could be at the root of it all? What is the common denominator—the first domino that with its falling cascades all the others into upheaval and makes matters worse. I have come to the conclusion it boils down to the coin of power and how those on the side of having it wield it to affect those who don’t. Whether in a crisis of health or wealth or justice or democracy, the poor and powerless rise or fall depending upon that wield. In any instance, power has the capacity to either foster equality or suppress it; to offer or deny access. The overriding question for me, then, is how does a power-driven society treat its poor and disenfranchised…and what is my responsibility in determining that direction, both individually and to a larger extent.

From beginning to end, The Bible is riddled with references to our interactions with the poor. In Proverbs 14:31, we are advised that “Whoever oppresses the poor shows contempt for their Maker, but whoever is kind to the needy honors God.” James 2:2-4 enlightens us on discrimination - “Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man in filthy old clothes also comes in. If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, ‘Here’s a good seat for you,’ but say to the poor man, ‘You stand there’ or ‘Sit on the floor by my feet,’ have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?” In 1 John 3:17-18, there is a specific exhortation to action - “If anyone has material possessions and see a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.”

All of these directives assume some personal contact with the poor. That is not my circumstance. I live in a comfortable bubble physically distanced from the broader world’s sadness and ugliness. My meager periodic contributions to The Salvation Army are more of a benefit to me in getting rid of items that I no longer need than they are any particular attempt to be involved. Other than that, I am left with financial support of organizations charged with the requisite responsibilities to take care of such things along with voting my conscience on these matters every two years. However, not so among some of your ancestors and family members.

The other day, Captain came across a copy of a letter written to Ben C. Gray from Hugh B. Cottrell, son of your quintuple-great grandfather Thomas by his second wife, and brother to your quadruple-great grandfather Joseph Benson Cottrell. Thomas was a teacher and doctor who lived in Abbeville, SC, in the early to mid-1800’s. The content of the letter focused on Hugh’s description of his father and among that portrayal is this: “He was a very high minded, liberal and charitable man-had a large practice, and gave the poor who were not able to pay him, closer attention than the rich; sometimes he would feed them besides giving them medicine, when he saw the prime cause of their sickness was a want of healthful food.”

I’ve also just finished reading your late great-Uncle Bryant’s doctoral thesis which promoted the use of computers to enhance physicians’ treatments by connecting with available community services that could buttress those treatments. It was written 35 years ago when he was the chaplain to the medical students at the Medical Center of the North Carolina Baptist Hospital/Bowman Gray School of Medicine of Wake Forest University. Among his duties was to work in a pastoral capacity (for both patients and physicians) with the General Medicine Outpatient Clinic operated for the benefit of the underserved community surrounding the hospital. He describes the backdrop to his thesis this way.

This approach emphasizes conceptualization of medical problems as existing in a dynamic relation to the personal history and current contexts in which the patient now lives and relating treatment strategies to clearly defined objectives which are consistent with sound clinical judgment. In this clinic we try to merge the strengths of the “medical model” (with its emphasis upon the sciences of medicine) with a “psychosocial” model emphasizing the interconnectedness of person, individual history, living context, and the experience of disease. Understood in this broad way, medicine (like theology) becomes open to all the phenomena of human experience and, in practice, links up with and learns from other disciplines that are concerned with the human condition.

What anecdotally triggered his interest in this concept was a specific episode in the clinic. An older black woman diagnosed with chronic high blood pressure would repeatedly show up in distress after having ignored prescribed follow-up appointments. The attending medical students became so frustrated with her that their doctor/patient relationship became adversarial. Uncle Bryant entered the situation in an attempt to resolve the conflict. Upon questioning her, he found out that she lived alone, didn’t drive, and had no access to reliable transportation to meet her appointments. Her family members were all working or had issues with childcare. Her recalcitrance wasn’t deliberate…she just didn’t have the resources. But the community at large did. It occurred to him if he could establish a database of these resources, it might provide solutions to these problems.

On page 45 of the thesis, I found words that gave me a glimpse into the theology that undergirded Bryant’s faith and consequently his actions. He writes:

The care of the poor has always been an essential characteristic of ministry in the Christian community. The claim of the poor on theological understandings of ministry is rooted in Jesus’ own ministry. In the eschatological saying of Matt. 15:40 (“As you did it to one of the least of these my brethren you did it unto me.”, Jesus identifies himself with the poor. Any theological understanding of ministry which does not consider the needs of the poor as central to its own self-understanding is alienated from Christ.

The poor also embody the reality of our human situation before God. In the existence of the poor a truth about all human being comes into clear focus—absolute dependence on God. Ministry to the poor then is a direct witness to the truth of the Gospel of God’s continuing care for his dependent creatures regardless of their social standing.

I stand in awe of those who are called to action and actually do something about my professed concerns. If we are indeed dependent upon power to form our society, it takes their dedication to ensure that the poor do not suffer at the hands of it.