Aunt Kay

Kay Yow was buried today. The finality of life that seems to just end for some.

She was an inspiration to many of those fighting cancer. Her “success” at having had 2 recurrences and continued work seemed to define what cancer should look like…manageable and chronic. As one who has witnessed it up close in my personal life and work, I can be assured it doesn’t always look so “easy”. She was likely in pain for much of the last few years. Fogged by chemo brain and tired beyond any measure of a way we healthy ones can imagine. Admirable for sure, and certainly for her, the way she managed the disease was a way she could continue to educate and care for young women.

But rather than being defined as a “fighter” and “brave”, I hope that she knew in her heart of hearts what she meant to others. Reports of 1400 or so at the funeral yesterday are followed by reports of 300 or so at a burial. She did a video that was played at the funeral. A little creepy but she was known as a talker so no reason to deny a woman her last word.

I didn’t know Kay Yow. I watched her coach basketball for so many years she just seemed to be there. Kind of like Pat still is. There is a bevy of coaches who are still considered the matriarchs of this sport I love so much. And most are still young enough to remain active for a while to come. Yet we forget they have lives to live. Kids to raise. Divorces to contend with and diseases to fight.

I knew Kay Yow’s nephew however. He was a tall gangly fella named Walt Beeker. A kind soul who loved his Aunt Kay. He spent a good deal of time in my office on Friday afternoons when I was at East Tennessee State University. Last I knew of him he was a contractor in Myrtle Beach. From him, I heard stories of visits to the country and fun times with family. Full of food and those warm southern memories. I didn’t know until just before graduation that "Aunt Kay" was Kay Yow. I am glad I didn’t because I could hear stories of the woman and not who I thought she should be.

I hope we can all be seen as who we are. Not just what we do or who we know or how many people attend our funeral.

May we all be Aunt Kay, or Cousin Khette, or whatever we are called by our loved ones.

Because that is what matters.

Reality and Religion

I got a call today from the Children’s Emergency Dept. I don't always get to go down there but when I do, it is never good. I guess it is what I call the Jesus shit. That stuff no one wants to do but some of us get to do and it becomes a back-ass-wards blessing. And well, Jesus shit likes me I think.

A 1 year old child was hurt in a car wreck. Uncle was driving. He is being treated elsewhere. Mom is about 25 or so. There were a gazillion people in the Trauma room doing what a zillion individuals do in a trauma room to keep a being alive. How that all works I have no idea. The little girl’s heart had stopped completely at one point but oxygen was continually running so maybe there is no further damage. So they prepared to take the child to get a CT scan. Before they go Mom went in to see her baby for a moment. So was escorted by a very skilled nurse manager. We had already prayed in the hallway… that place that for me seems to be the literal line often between life and death. The no man's land of uncertainty.

After they whisked the baby away to CT, Mom collapsed into a chair. I held her as close as I could. I realized as I started to put my own knee down to the floor a nurse stopped me. There was a pool of blood beneath me. I think I have some on the bottom of my shoes probably. We moved mom to another room for some privacy. Grandma came to be of no use as she decided to have heart issues (a pre condition anyway). I moved to the hallway to let them do their medical thing and the same capable nurse manager came out and thanked me for being there and said "She is of no f-ing use" which made me laugh. One thing about ED nurses is that they don't mince words...about anything. Much.

I passed the same trauma room when I left the ED. All the paper and plastic and yes the blood was still there. The chaos of keeping life in this world.

It makes the body and blood real. All of it.

And somehow I have to go read some book on Shenandoah Religion….

Epiphanies and Referendum (or is it Referenda? Referen-duh?)

A few weeks ago I was called to the room of a mother whose child had been admitted to the hospital.

As I approached the room, I noticed that mom looked frightened and held her son close.

I approached her carefully and said hello.

We quickly realized that my Spanish and her English was not going to get us too far. After a few awkward moments of rudimentary sign language and pointing, I came to the obvious conclusion that I needed some help.

I called an interpreter.

I had a choice with how to do this. I could talk to mom through an interpreter on the phone. This seemed a little impersonal. Or an interpreter could come to her room and we could talk together.

Now to do this, I had to make an appointment. All of which meant due to scheduling, I would not even get to speak to mom again. Another chaplain would.

I found the whole experience Frustrating and Inconvenient. Because of the language barrier, we could not express ourselves in a way that was authentic to either of us.

And we lost something in translation.


On January 22, 2009 Davidson County residents may consider a Charter amendment proposal that deems English as the only language in which the county government may do business.

Officially, this amendment states, in full, emphasis is mine:

English is the official language of the Metropolitan Government of Nashville and Davidson County, Tennessee.

Official actions which bind or commit the government shall be taken only in the English language, and all official government communications and publications shall be in English.

No person shall have a right to government services in any other language. All meetings of the Metro Council, Boards, and Commissions of the Metropolitan Government shall be conducted in English. The Metro Council may make specific exceptions to protect public health and safety. Nothing in this measure shall be interpreted to conflict with federal or state law.


In December, I joined several local clergy members in the Glendale Baptist Church Fellowship Hall to discuss this amendment.

I would say we met under the cover of darkness in the basement but that simply was not the case. This overt operation included salad, chili, homemade cobbler, and iced tea.

The usual suspects were present. The serious conversations we had about inclusion and welcome was interspersed with laughter and concern about what it meant to be a witness to the life of Christ and a citizen of the world.

As faith leaders, your pastors (and intern) felt it necessary to talk with others who oppose this amendment, to share information, to share stories, to share the burden of leadership in times of cultural conflict.
Over lunch, we decided Epiphany Sunday would be a date to collectively preach upon what it means to welcome the stranger.

There are signs where I live that invite my community to “Keep Nashville Friendly”.
I reckon that is what we do in the South. I was told growing up to be nice. Be friendly. Bless their hearts.

But this amendment calls for so much more than let’s be nice to each other. It is about more than friendliness and the platitudes of propriety.

It is about prejudice and power and frankly fear.

Notice the language. It calls for totality of action. Words such as ONLY and ALL, No person. The amendment literally calls for voices to be silenced.

There is no room for any one else, in the inn or in the courthouse, or the city employment line.

In contrast, Matthew’s text tells the story of strangers at the bedside and a story of aliens as angels.

And if you saw our Christmas pageant a few weeks ago, the kids will tell you, the aliens are less scary.

To read this text again especially through the lens of local politics, one can clearly see the power dynamics. Herod fears this child. His power is threatened. He doesn’t know who or where this child is. But he fears him.

Later in Matthew it becomes clear to what lengths Herod will go to retain his power. Going on to murder all male children under the age of three, he wipes out a whole generation of Israel.

This amendment before us in essence wipes out a whole segment of our population as well.

UCC minister Kathy Huey suggests: “the biblical story leads us to ponder the meaning of visitors from the very places in the world that we seem to fear most right now.”

She suggests that we get a better sense of the reaction to these visitors if we imagine a visit to our local church (or government) by religious or political leaders from say Iran or Iraq. South Koreans or Chinese.
What is it we fear? What is it that drives this amendment?

Scott Hoezee puts it this way: "Matthew is giving a Gospel sneak preview: the Christ child who attracted these odd Magi to his cradle will later have the same magnetic effect on Samaritan adulterers, immoral prostitutes, greasy tax collectors on the take, despised Roman soldiers, and ostracized lepers."

In Matthew's story, then, of God at work in the world--the good news, the gospel--these foreigners, these Gentiles, represent us, too, in a sense. Remember then that Matthew, twenty-six chapters later, would tell of Jesus commanding his disciples to "Go, make disciples of all nations."

We are all in this big picture. The one that includes a big tent of a tradition of hope rooted in the prophets and embodied by Jesus Christ himself.

I recall stopping at a local bank one afternoon. I approached the ATM machine, already irritated that it was “talking to me”.

I put my card into the slot only to notice a message that I could receive my instructions in English or Spanish.

I was furious. Why is it that I have to choose I thought? I want English. I speak English. If I was in France I would have to speak French. No one would help me. I would be lost and unable to communicate or know what to eat or go to the bathroom….
In less than 5 minutes I had become a world traveler lost in Europe ..all from the comfort of my car which sat in a bank parking lot in Chattanooga Tennessee.

How did THAT happen? How was it that I became afraid of instructions on the ATM machine?

But do these arguments sound familiar?

After a few minutes and maybe a year or two later, I came to my senses a bit.

I was a management major in college. In reality banks aren’t going to reprogram their ATM’s just to be “friendly”. They are going to invest in where they will receive the most benefit.

To have instructions in English or Spanish is good business. That means our Latino neighbors might have bank accounts. They are contributing to the economy. They are helping me have a more diverse and rich life experience.

There is no word from our text as to how the magi interacted with Jesus or his family or the locals.
There is no word from our text as to whether they were wanted or not.

But they were welcomed. If nothing else, their story was deemed important enough to be included in our faith tradition.

Under the proposed amendment before us, this story would not be included. Thousands of stories will not be included. Lives will continue to be ignored and will be made irrelevant.

It isn’t to be “nice and friendly” that we should think hard about this resolution.

It is to realize that some resolutions are just mean spirited.

It is to remember that as our own table is set, all are welcome.

Our text does tell us is that the magi went home another way.

They chose a different path. They chose to travel a longer road. Perhaps one that was frustrating and inconvenient and required an interpreter.

But they knew that was the best path.

Let us do the same. Not for convenience but for community.

For welcome.

For the love of all of us.

Epiphanies and Referendum (or is it Referenda? Referen-duh?)

A few weeks ago I was called to the room of a mother whose child had been admitted to the hospital.

As I approached the room, I noticed that mom looked frightened and held her son close.

I approached her carefully and said hello.

We quickly realized that my Spanish and her English was not going to get us too far. After a few awkward moments of rudimentary sign language and pointing, I came to the obvious conclusion that I needed some help.

I called an interpreter.

I had a choice with how to do this. I could talk to mom through an interpreter on the phone. This seemed a little impersonal. Or an interpreter could come to her room and we could talk together.

Now to do this, I had to make an appointment. All of which meant due to scheduling, I would not even get to speak to mom again. Another chaplain would.

I found the whole experience Frustrating and Inconvenient. Because of the language barrier, we could not express ourselves in a way that was authentic to either of us.

And we lost something in translation.


On January 22, 2009 Davidson County residents may consider a Charter amendment proposal that deems English as the only language in which the county government may do business.

Officially, this amendment states, in full, emphasis is mine:

English is the official language of the Metropolitan Government of Nashville and Davidson County, Tennessee.

Official actions which bind or commit the government shall be taken only in the English language, and all official government communications and publications shall be in English.

No person shall have a right to government services in any other language. All meetings of the Metro Council, Boards, and Commissions of the Metropolitan Government shall be conducted in English. The Metro Council may make specific exceptions to protect public health and safety. Nothing in this measure shall be interpreted to conflict with federal or state law.


In December, I joined several local clergy members in the Glendale Baptist Church Fellowship Hall to discuss this amendment.

I would say we met under the cover of darkness in the basement but that simply was not the case. This overt operation included salad, chili, homemade cobbler, and iced tea.

The usual suspects were present. The serious conversations we had about inclusion and welcome was interspersed with laughter and concern about what it meant to be a witness to the life of Christ and a citizen of the world.

As faith leaders, your pastors (and intern) felt it necessary to talk with others who oppose this amendment, to share information, to share stories, to share the burden of leadership in times of cultural conflict.
Over lunch, we decided Epiphany Sunday would be a date to collectively preach upon what it means to welcome the stranger.

There are signs where I live that invite my community to “Keep Nashville Friendly”.
I reckon that is what we do in the South. I was told growing up to be nice. Be friendly. Bless their hearts.

But this amendment calls for so much more than let’s be nice to each other. It is about more than friendliness and the platitudes of propriety.

It is about prejudice and power and frankly fear.

Notice the language. It calls for totality of action. Words such as ONLY and ALL, No person. The amendment literally calls for voices to be silenced.

There is no room for any one else, in the inn or in the courthouse, or the city employment line.

In contrast, Matthew’s text tells the story of strangers at the bedside and a story of aliens as angels.

And if you saw our Christmas pageant a few weeks ago, the kids will tell you, the aliens are less scary.

To read this text again especially through the lens of local politics, one can clearly see the power dynamics. Herod fears this child. His power is threatened. He doesn’t know who or where this child is. But he fears him.

Later in Matthew it becomes clear to what lengths Herod will go to retain his power. Going on to murder all male children under the age of three, he wipes out a whole generation of Israel.

This amendment before us in essence wipes out a whole segment of our population as well.

UCC minister Kathy Huey suggests: “the biblical story leads us to ponder the meaning of visitors from the very places in the world that we seem to fear most right now.”

She suggests that we get a better sense of the reaction to these visitors if we imagine a visit to our local church (or government) by religious or political leaders from say Iran or Iraq. South Koreans or Chinese.
What is it we fear? What is it that drives this amendment?

Scott Hoezee puts it this way: "Matthew is giving a Gospel sneak preview: the Christ child who attracted these odd Magi to his cradle will later have the same magnetic effect on Samaritan adulterers, immoral prostitutes, greasy tax collectors on the take, despised Roman soldiers, and ostracized lepers."

In Matthew's story, then, of God at work in the world--the good news, the gospel--these foreigners, these Gentiles, represent us, too, in a sense. Remember then that Matthew, twenty-six chapters later, would tell of Jesus commanding his disciples to "Go, make disciples of all nations."

We are all in this big picture. The one that includes a big tent of a tradition of hope rooted in the prophets and embodied by Jesus Christ himself.

I recall stopping at a local bank one afternoon. I approached the ATM machine, already irritated that it was “talking to me”.

I put my card into the slot only to notice a message that I could receive my instructions in English or Spanish.

I was furious. Why is it that I have to choose I thought? I want English. I speak English. If I was in France I would have to speak French. No one would help me. I would be lost and unable to communicate or know what to eat or go to the bathroom….
In less than 5 minutes I had become a world traveler lost in Europe ..all from the comfort of my car which sat in a bank parking lot in Chattanooga Tennessee.

How did THAT happen? How was it that I became afraid of instructions on the ATM machine?

But do these arguments sound familiar?

After a few minutes and maybe a year or two later, I came to my senses a bit.

I was a management major in college. In reality banks aren’t going to reprogram their ATM’s just to be “friendly”. They are going to invest in where they will receive the most benefit.

To have instructions in English or Spanish is good business. That means our Latino neighbors might have bank accounts. They are contributing to the economy. They are helping me have a more diverse and rich life experience.

There is no word from our text as to how the magi interacted with Jesus or his family or the locals.
There is no word from our text as to whether they were wanted or not.

But they were welcomed. If nothing else, their story was deemed important enough to be included in our faith tradition.

Under the proposed amendment before us, this story would not be included. Thousands of stories will not be included. Lives will continue to be ignored and will be made irrelevant.

It isn’t to be “nice and friendly” that we should think hard about this resolution.

It is to realize that some resolutions are just mean spirited.

It is to remember that as our own table is set, all are welcome.

Our text does tell us is that the magi went home another way.

They chose a different path. They chose to travel a longer road. Perhaps one that was frustrating and inconvenient and required an interpreter.

But they knew that was the best path.

Let us do the same. Not for convenience but for community.

For welcome.

For the love of all of us.