“And when the time comes you are brought before gatherings, rulers, and those in authority, don’t be anxious about what you’ll say in defense or, even, the words you speak; because, the Holy Spirit will instruct you in that very moment what you need to say” (Luke 12.12).
On 1 May 1969, Fred Rogers (aka Mr. Rogers) testified before the Senate Subcommittee on Communications as part of hearings that would determine the appropriation to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, i.e. if the money to be set aside for it would be cut (I know, hard to imagine the Government wanting to do that today). If you’ve never seen the seven minute video, it’s worth watching (or reading the transcript here).
The hearings were headed up by Senator John Pastore. Now, Pastore wasn’t against the idea of Public Broadcasting. But he was fiscally conservative, believing that federal spending should be kept low, and was a bit of a tough personality. In the video, he’s brusque, no nonsense. And the soft spoken Rogers seems like the last person in the world you’d send to try and convince of him of anything.
But, in under seven minutes, something happens, something unexpected. The apparently stern and almost grumpy Senator ends up saying, softly, “I think that’s just wonderful.” And at that moment, the full, proposed allocation had his support.
I’ve watched this video a few times, but it’s been a while. I started thinking about it last weekend as legislation moved through Congress intent on cutting, among other things, publicly-funded media (like PBS). I thought of it on the heels of thinking, as I have a couple of times this year, about how futile it feels to contact my own Senators and Representative in Congress.
I get emails from about three different organizations that send out alerts when certain legislation is coming up for debate or vote, and they make it really easy for a busy person to click a couple of times and send off an email to their Congressional representatives asking them to support or vote against certain bills that are helpful or harmful to the country (at least as they and I tend to see it).
Living where I do, the people in Congress representing me don’t really share my views on the world. And that’s okay. They’ve been elected by a majority of the folks around here, and they tend to represent their views. Though, sometimes, I think they’re representing their own agendas and ideologies rather than those of the majority back home. Either way, they tend to do the exact opposite of whatever it is I’m asking them to do.
Again, that’s a representative democracy. No one gets all of what they want or sees enacted all the laws they believe might benefit the country and the world. But, often, it feels pointless. I click, I send off my emails, but it seems futile. I ask myself while doing it why I bother. They’re just going to ignore me and do what they want to do anyway.
It probably felt like that for my parents and grandparents, but it seems like there’s less consideration of a differing idea these days. People, both in and out of government, seem to have their minds made up and no amount of talk or eloquence of prose will change what they’ve decided to do. I found myself thinking a lot lately, what’s the use?
But then I thought of Fred Roger’s testimony before Congress over fifty years ago during a time when America was deeply divided over the conflict in Vietnam, racial equality, and the environment. Maybe it came to me because I was in the midst of reading through the Book of Acts, which, for me, lives in the echo of Jesus’ words above. Do not worry about what you should say. The Spirit will instruct you.
Spirit, here, originates in the Hebrew word ruach which can be translated as spirit, wind, breath. In a way, you could also think of it as air, that which surrounds us that’s exhaled by every living being and finds its origin in the very first breath God breathed into Creation. Air, the very medium of sound—molecules that vibrate from ones lips to another’s ears transmitted and then transformed into language, music, sound.
To me, Jesus’ words aren’t simply on trusting that we’ll have the words to say at the critical or momentous moments. It’s really, as with much of what Jesus taught, not about us at all. No, what I think Jesus’ was trying to convey is that we shouldn’t worry too much about if we said something the right way; because, it’s less about us and more about the space between us and those listening, or reading.
In other words, it’s not about me convincing my Senators or Representative to consider not cutting programs that help the poor or acting to shelter the stranger amongst us. Oh, it’s important to speak, don’t misunderstand me. Jesus is always looking for us to participate in the redemptive work of this world. But, ultimately, what happens to our words as they move from us to another is touched by the Divine. And that is what enables it to touch the heart.
It doesn’t always mean that our words will play a part in transformation. We are all capable of hardening our hearts against Love, building a barrier that repels it, keeps it from touching the vulnerable, best parts of ourselves. And sometimes, it may take a lot of voices, speaking in Love, to reverberate loud enough to pierce those walls. And it may take time.
But one day, I must believe, even the most closed-off and hard-hearted has within them the place where their best self rests. And when touched they too may say, that’s just wonderful.
May I speak in love of the good, the just, the merciful so you, Jesus, may use those words to touch hearts and transform our world.