Theo of Golden - Reflections (6)

 

Author Allen Levi is a Tiffany in developing memorable characters as jewels and in placing them in relationship with one another as a master of stained glass. When light penetrates the glass, the sum is greater than the parts – there is holistic beauty. 

The Federated Church of Becket, MA has a beautiful stained-glass window at the entrance to the church, the centerpiece is Jesus the Good Shepherd. There were Sunday mornings when I’d ask the congregation to turn around and ponder the window in order to make a certain point – as a pastor I could not go wrong by having us keep our eyes on Jesus, our Shepherd. 

One of Allen Levi’s many gems in Theo of Golden is Ellen. Ellen communicates innocence, wisdom, pain and suffering, joy, beauty, kindness, and humor. The scene in St. James Church on a certain Sunday morning is a healing and humorous balm following the tragic account of the best day of her life. This is a remarkable juxtaposition by Mr. Levi, and I wonder if we don’t especially see the merging of Allen Levi the musician and song writer with Allen Levi the author in this orchestration. 

Ellen challenges me. 

To begin, I wonder if there isn’t some Ellen in all of us. That is, I wonder if we aren’t all just a bit “different” than we let on. I wonder if perhaps the main difference between Ellen and most of us is that we have learned to hide the parts of us that are “different.” Could it be that we have learned how to evade the goons from Columbia by hiding and conforming and saying and doing the things that are expected of us? Perhaps we have had stage moms and dads who were just doing to us what had been done to them? 

Was not Ellen’s problem that she didn’t know how to “act”? 

This is not to say that expectations and norms are all wrong, but it is to suggest that what is below the surface may just be more vital to life than what we superficially observe. Mrs. Ocie Van Blarcum, an unforgettable character among other unforgettable characters, reminds us that while man judges by appearance, God looks upon the heart. As the narrator of Theo points out, Mrs. Van Blarcum recognized the “least of these, my brethren.” 

A few years ago I made the acquaintance of a pastor from another region of the world who was born an albino; since he was born in a population with mostly deep dark skin, his albinism stood out. There was an unfortunate belief among some of the population of his home region that albinos ought to be sacrificed to traditional gods. As you might imagine, this led to a certain anxiety on the part of his family. Growing up, he restricted his travels to population centers within his home country. 

I’m not sure that we in America are much different that this pastor’s home country. When people don’t look like us or act like us or think like us or speak like us, is it possible that we are too ready to sacrifice them to our traditional gods. This is a powerful motive for conformity, whether as children or as adults. It is reason to keep our differences hidden; in families, at work, at school, in church. 

Sadly, often when we hide our differences we hide our giftings, our special talents, insights, the particular beauty that our Father has placed within each one of us. And here is another thing…I don’t understand it but I know it is true…we need one another to pull the beauty out of us. Theo saw beauty in others that they didn’t see in themselves – and rightly so – and beauty of beauties – Theo saw beauty in Ellen and Ellen saw beauty in Theo. 

Many of us, looking back over our school years, can likely recall a boy or a girl who was “different” in our class, who didn’t fit in, who didn’t participate in activities the way most of us did – whether we wanted to or not. I wonder what we all missed by not paying attention to all of our classmates? 

While many of us admire C. S. Lewis, I wonder if we would have been good classmates to him. Lewis did not care for sports, he did not fit in with the crowd, throughout his life he considered himself “all thumbs.” Yet, he loved extended walking trips, he loved engaging in projects around the Kilns, what he and Warnie termed “public works projects,” so it wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy physical activity – he just wasn’t into football and cricket and rugby. Lewis may very well have been too “different” for us. We may have missed the opportunity of enjoying an enduring friendship.

Ellen also challenges me in that she confronts me with the cruelty of society. Our society steam rolls over those who are different and who cannot speak for themselves. Often, if people do not have economic value they do not have intrinsic value, and they certainly don’t have political value. Is it possible that we prefer those like Ellen to be out of sight so that we need not confront our attitudes and actions?  Do we really want the Ellens of the world in our worship services? After all, if we welcome them to morning worship they may expect us to invite them to afternoon tea, or chicken dinner, or to watch a football game in our home. Can I be honest enough to ask myself about my own heart in these matters? Will I ask God, by His grace, to help me? 

I’m not sure.

Is it possible that we have learned to hide our differences to such a degree that we may die never knowing who we really are? Is it possible that I may never know you, that you may never know me, and that I may never truly know who I am…who my Father created me to be? 

The Ellens of this world have blessed me so much more than I have ever blessed them. 

Joe was a disabled veteran who lived in our small town of Becket. The nature of his disability affected his speech and mobility, and while in many communities he may have been invisible, to his neighbors in Becket he was a beloved figure. Joe’s movement was slow, his speech was slow, and conversations with him could not be hurried. To a person outside Becket, Joe might be viewed as “different,” within the Becket community Joe was Joe. 

One morning I was in my office feeling a bit depressed, I suppose we could term it “pastoral isolation.” It was cold outside; it was cold inside. My office was cold, the building was cold, and I suppose my heart was a bit cold. I had a space heater in my office and the door was closed to contain the heat. I was the only person in the old drafty building…or so I thought. 

There was a “tap, tap, tap” at the door. 

“Come in,” I said.

The door opened and it was Joe. In his hand was a brown bag.

“Reverend Withers, as I was walking to the General (the Becket General Store which was next door to the Federated Church) I was thinking of you. I saw your car outside and thought I would bring you a coffee and a muffin from the store. I don’t know if you take cream or sugar but I brought them too. I hope you like them.” 

Out of the bag Joe brought the coffee and the muffin and the cream and the sugar and placed them before me on my desk along with a napkin. 

“O Joe, thank you so much. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“You are welcome, Reverend Withers. I hope you have a good day.” 

As Joe left and closed the door, my heart was overwhelmed and a sacred warmth invaded my soul; Joe had bestowed a holy blessing upon me. Perhaps this is what Theo experienced when Ellen gave him a featherwood. 

Yes, Ellen challenges me.