In our July 4 celebrations, says Bishop David Bard, may we remember the complexities of our history and enlarge our memory so that our future might be better than our past.
BISHOP DAVID ALAN BARD
Michigan Conference
On June 18, the great baseball player Willie Mays died at age 93. I have long loved baseball, and Willie Mays was one of the legendary players still playing when I was a boy. I started collecting baseball cards in elementary school, and his was a prized card. I did not consider card collecting some investment, simply a joy. Nor was I ever one to take a clothespin and attach a card to my bicycle to hear the click-click-click sound it would make as the spokes rattled the cardboard. Well, almost never — checklist cards were fair game for that. I took good care of my cards, organizing them alphabetically and by team. I used them to play games.
Baseball was and is a great game to follow on radio. I have fond memories of listening to Minnesota Twins games on a small transistor radio. I remember bringing it to school a couple of times on opening day so we could listen during recess. The Minnesota Twins were my team, but even then, I had a fondness for the Detroit Tigers. The Tigers had a farm team in my hometown, the Duluth-Superior Dukes, and a number of the 1968 World Series champion Tigers played briefly in Duluth: Willie Horton, Gates Brown, Bill Freehan, Denny McClain, and John Hiller, to name a few. In another Minnesota baseball connection, Willie Mays played briefly for the Minneapolis Millers minor league baseball team, but before my time.
The news of Willie Mays’ death saddened me. At the same time, it was a delight to hear stories of his phenomenal skills as a player and to watch some of the highlights of his career as they were broadcast in the days following his death.
Along with the career highlights were life stories. In one interview, Mays shared that in his early years playing for the New York Giants, it was not uncommon for black and white players to stay in different hotels. When the Giants moved from New York to San Francisco after the 1957 season, Mays encountered challenges finding a house to purchase. In one instance, Mays offered a builder the asking price in cash for a home he was selling. Soon after the offer was made, the builder began receiving phone calls from others in the neighborhood concerned that their property values would decline if a Negro moved in. A small crisis ensued involving the entire city of San Francisco. After several days of negotiation, Mays and his wife bought the home. As a Mays biographer put it, “The incident, far from vindicating San Francisco, lay bare the insidious but standard practice among Realtors, builders, and banks to prevent home buyers of color from entering certain neighborhoods” (James Hirsch, Willie Mays: The Life, the Legend, p. 280).
These stories were being shared as our nation celebrated Juneteenth on June 19. Juneteenth commemorates the day when enslaved African Americans in Texas were told that slavery had ended. This was two and a half years following the Emancipation Proclamation and two months following the surrender of the Confederate army at Appomattox. On Juneteenth, we are invited to recall our complicated history as a country, including slavery and emancipation, oppression and the struggles for freedom and civil rights. To hear the story of Willie Mays’ housing issues in San Francisco on Juneteenth seemed fitting.
With July comes our next national holiday, Independence Day, a celebration of our nation. It also seems fitting to me that Juneteenth and July 4 are close together. On July 4, we are invited to celebrate our nation, its achievements, and its aspirations. Juneteenth reminds us of the complexity of our history, and without acknowledging that complexity, our celebration of achievements and aspirations will be shallow.
In his book Patience with God, Czech priest and theologian Tomáš Halík writes, “The nation — like the church — is a ‘community of memory.’ The past needs to be reflected on and transformed — such as through art, public debate, historical research, preserving ‘places of memory,’ etc. — to allow it to become part of the collective memory. So long as society fails to relate to its past in this way, fragmentation of memory occurs” (pp. 181-182). Weaving Juneteenth and July 4 together is one way to enlarge our memory so that our future might be better than our past. At other times during the year, we commemorate Black History Month (February), Asian American, Native Hawaiian, and Pacific Islander Heritage Month (May), National Hispanic Heritage Month (September 15 to October 15), Indigenous Peoples’ Day (second Monday in October), Women’s History Month (March), and in June, Pride Month. In each instance, we have the opportunity to recall our more complex history and to acknowledge the contributions of diverse people to the rich tapestry that is our country. We are invited to remember that our history is not only the history of men whose ancestry is European, though they, too, are part of this rich tapestry.
I am writing a lot about the United States, but I am a bishop in The United Methodist Church. What does this have to do with the church? We here in the Michigan Conference are all also part of the rich tapestry of our country. While the church’s primary task is not to make our country work, we have a stake in it. John Wesley, in his treatise, “Thoughts upon Slavery,” wrote, “Wealth is not necessary to the glory of any nation; but wisdom, virtue, justice, mercy, generosity, public spirit, love of our country.” We should do what we can to encourage and nurture these qualities in our public life through active engagement.
Even more, weaving a rich tapestry of diverse persons is at the heart of what it means to be the church. In the name of Jesus Christ, we are invited to create beloved community in the church. We do that in the context of a country that has both successes and struggles in creating a more beloved community. The church shares in those successes and struggles. As we do our beloved community work in the church, it will reverberate through our society, and our society needs more beloved community.
Enjoy this July 4 as you celebrate our national heritage, our accomplishments, and our aspirations. Have a picnic. Gather with friends and family. Listen to a little baseball, once considered our national pastime. Take a few moments to consider the whole of our history — our shortcomings as well as our successes. Pledge yourself anew to the beloved community work that is ours as a church, which can send ripples of care through our wider society.
Before ending this essay, I want to acknowledge the recent deaths of two law enforcement officers here in Michigan, one in Metro Detroit and one in Hillsdale County. I know you join me in grieving and offering prayers for their families. Law enforcement work is dangerous, and those who engage in it deserve our gratitude. There will be times when criticism of law enforcement is necessary, when there is excessive violence or race-based policing, but that should never prevent us from expressing our gratitude and our grief. These deaths of law enforcement persons are tragic and heartbreaking. They come on the heels of the random shooting at a splash pad in Rochester Hills. As we think about our country — its achievements and aspirations, its hopes and hurts — we should give some time to consider what we might do about firearm violence. The U.S. Surgeon General recently issued an advisory on firearm violence, calling it a public health crisis. You need not agree with all his recommendations, but the problems he identifies are real and significant. The church is called to do what it can to create peace and reduce violence.
Last Updated on July 2, 2024