In Memoriam

June 17, 2015

The Reverend Clementa Pinckney

Tywanza Sanders

Cynthia Hurd

The Reverend Sharonda Coleman-Singleton

Myra Thompson

Ethel Lance

The Reverend Daniel Simmons

The Reverend DePayne Middleton-Doctor

Susie Jackson

Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints. (Psalm 116:15)

Vacation Bible School Season has arrived in the South. Although such a time is not marked on any liturgical calendar, the annual observance is sacred in the southern church year. A summer would not be complete without this Holy Week of bedlam and chaos in local congregations.

I grew up attending Vacation Bible School at my home church. The event was widely publicized in the congregation and community. In a wily church growth strategy, church leaders encouraged members to invite family and friends. I never could gauge the long-term effectiveness of the evangelistic approach. However, non-churched parents gladly agreed to send their children to a week of free daycare!

Each summer featured a different theme. A joyful Jesus with a broad smile on his face adorned all the materials. Maps, pictures, and posters decorated the cinderblock walls of the Sunday School rooms. Thirty-three rpm records of flimsy plastic accompanied the curriculum with the week’s featured songs.

Filmstrips were high tech way back then. The more elaborate presentations included a cassette recording that beeped when the slide should be advanced. The multi-media presentations consisted of felt boards and punch out figures. For years, I thought all the disciples were six inches tall with Velcro strips on their backs!

Recreation was the high point of the day. The older youth led the playtime. This meant the teenage boys flirted with their female counterparts while we ran wild. The more organized leaders would toss us a kick ball before standing aside.

Then we would break for snack time. Everyone knew that only nominal Christians volunteered to serve refreshments at Vacation Bible School. These parents felt guilty enough to participate but were not committed enough to teach! So they served the hungry hordes that periodically descended upon the snack room.

Refreshments customarily meant cool juice along with cream filled cookies. Whenever I read about Jesus feeding the five thousand with loaves and fishes, I always assumed the writers meant to say Kool-Aide and Oreos! I also thought that the Communion Service would benefit by switching from stale crackers to sugar iced cookies.

I do recall one year when the class took an imaginary plane trip to the Holy Land. The teachers served us unleavened bread, shriveled dates, and unsweetened grape juice. They assured us these “snacks” represented authentic food from the Holy Land. We assured them that the land flowing with milk and honey did not live up to its reputation!

We also enjoyed the arts and crafts time. Some congregations ordered expensive kits with their Vacation Bible School materials. We self-righteously rejected such Philistine ways. Markers, construction paper, glitter, balsa wood, and modeling clay were the art materials of true VBS veterans.

Oh, and the things we could do with a few Popsicle sticks and some paste glue! These building materials formed the building blocks for anything imaginable. No doubt Noah constructed the ark with only these supplies on hand. Given enough time and craft sticks, a Vacation Bible School class could construct a flight ready space shuttle.

We enjoyed singing, too. We enthusiastically sang the songs of faith. Our Top Ten List included “This is My Father’s World,” “Jesus Loves the Little Children,” “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands,” and “The B-I-B-L-E.”  Our all time, number one, favorite was “Jesus Loves Me, This I Know.”

Truth to tell, I remember the context of Vacation Bible School much more than any content. No single lesson sticks out in my mind. I do not recall one particular teacher. However, those summer weeks became grace-moments in my life. I learned that the Lord God Almighty, the Creator of the heavens and the earth, loved and cherished ME! Such knowledge overwhelmed my heart with wonder and love.

I hope every child in our community has the opportunity to attend a Vacation Bible School or two this summer. The experience will transform their lives, and the memories will last a lifetime.

Give this generation a foundation of faith along with some juice, cookies, and Popsicle sticks, and they will change our world forever!

This summer many Americans will embark on a family vacation.  Destinations include the mountains, beaches, lakes, reunions, amusement parks, and historical sites. The preferred mode of transportation remains the automobile. Fathers and mothers sit in the front seat while the children enjoy a panoramic view of their parents’ heads.

Today’s kids sit in the lap of luxury on long distance trips. They enjoy a vast array of entertainment alternatives, including video screens, DVD players, and game consoles. If a child is not in the mood for a Disney movie or X-Box game, additional options include tablets, laptops, handheld computer games, and other electronic pacifiers.

Boys and girls luxuriate in a climate-controlled environment. The touch of a button raises or lowers the ambient temperature. Some vehicles feature a variety of heat/cool zones that can be tailored to each occupant’s preferences. Many autos also feature tinted windows, tilting seats, leather surfaces, MP3 jacks, wireless headphones, and twenty-some-odd cup holders.

I grew up “back in the day” when kids were made of sterner stuff. Parents expected children to entertain themselves. Other than a few games of “Count the Cows” and “License Plate Bingo,” our parents left us to our own devices. The highest tech device I ever owned was a battery powered tape recorder. Otherwise, I contented myself with an eight pack of crayons, a pad of paper, and some books.

A Ford advertisement from 196something.

We stylishly rode in a Ford Fairlane station wagon. Climate-control meant a passenger window with a stubborn hand crank. We stuck our heads dog-like out the window to catch the breeze. The wind blast stretched my face like an astronaut in a centrifuge; but no matter how fast the windblast, ninety degree air still felt hot.

The sun turned the interior of the car into a sauna. Our bare legs stuck to the blistering vinyl seats like B’rer Rabbit to the Tar Baby. The back seat came equipped with four cup holders: my hands and my sister’s hands. A Coleman thermos provided all the water we could drink—but with the understanding that my father only stopped every few hours when the car needed gas.

Regardless of the decade, every generation of parents and children share some common experiences. We start off with high expectations of an idealized family vacation.

Then the car leaves the driveway.

Before long, children grow antsy, parents become short-tempered, and the road stretches on forever. Bathroom requests, “I’m thirsty” moans, and fast food appeals fill the air. Then there is the always popular, “Are we there yet?” The question is almost always followed closely by its cousin, “How much longer?”

The cynical wonder if the phrase “family vacation” is an oxymoron which joins together two irreconcilable realities.

“National Lampoon’s Vacation” is a classic film that depicts the challenges of traveling together as a family. The Griswolds experience every imaginable disaster on their trip to “WallyWorld.” The vacation becomes an unmitigated disaster. By the end of the movie, however, the Griswold family discovers that the journey matters much more than the destination.

I treasure memories of the vacations I spent with my parents and sister. In turn, I hope that my children will recall the quality moments our family spent together in quantity amounts of time. These memories are worth every moment of aggravation and discomfort.

My hope is that you and your family will have the opportunity to enjoy a vacation together this summer. Enjoy all the conveniences and comforts that modern technology provides. Cherish the moments with those you love as your family is making memories for the future.

When you reach the point that you have enjoyed all the family togetherness that you can stand, don’t forget that parents can use the headphones, too!

The last day of school possesses a magic all its own. Students stare at the clock as it slowly tick-tock-ticks a countdown to summer vacation. When the final bell finally rings, excited cheers fill the classrooms and halls—and that’s just the teachers! Children sing an ancient refrain: “School’s out, school’s out, teacher let the monkeys out!”

During childhood, I loved the last days of school. The final week included all of the best elements of education without the needless distractions of books, tests, or learning. We spent the time helping our teachers prepare the rooms for summer vacation.

The teachers appointed various boys in the classroom to carry heavy stacks of textbooks to the stuffy storage room. I still associate the smell of dust with higher learning. We considered the manual labor to be a badge of honor and entitlement. The savvier among us could stretch the five minute roundtrip to a quarter hour of roaming the halls. Four roundtrips consumed an entire class period.

Meanwhile, the girls washed the chalkboards and stripped the bulletin boards. We cleared a year’s accumulation of debris and detritus out of the desks. Then we scrubbed our desktops till they shined.

The more trusted among us went outside to clean the erasers unsupervised. We banged the felt pads against the building before scrubbing them on a wire box. Clouds of chalk dust filled the air and coated our lungs. No doubt a future Surgeon General will determine that chalk dust caused many of the problems plaguing my generation.

The more idealistic educators—who still believed that students should learn something during the final week of school—gave handouts to their classes. However, most of the work felt like play. The assignments included clever word problems, numerical puzzles, crossword puzzles, and intricate mazes.

We also played games indoors and out. Inside contests included Seven Up, Spelling Bees, Hangman, and Around the World. Outside activities featured softball, kickball, freeze tag, and the always popular game of chase. We reveled in the minimal amount of adult supervision provided by the teachers and coaches.

The cafeteria closed early for its annual cleaning and degreasing, so the school provided grab-bag lunches with mysterious contents. Typical fare included a sandwich, chips, cookie, and apple. In the days before peanut allergies had been invented, we often ate peanut butter and honey blended sandwiches—a terrible defilement of the traditional peanut butter and jelly classic.

When the last bell of the last class of the last day sounded, we erupted from our classrooms like escaping prisoners of war. Whoops of joy resounded in the hallways with obsolete notebooks abandoned in our wake. Bursting through the exits, we exalted in our newfound freedom.

No more pencils, no more books, and no more teachers’ dirty looks!

An endless summer stretched before us, bright with promise like the June sun. Who knew what new adventures awaited us? Anything and everything could happen. Life stretched before us filled with unlimited potential and possibilities.

On my best days, I like to imagine that the final day of my life will feel like the last day of school.