Civility Message
This Memorial Day I discovered, at long last, why incumbents sometimes hold an advantage over challengers. Following my keynote address at the National World War I Museum and Memorial, also known as the Liberty Memorial, I spoke with a number of the nice people who attended the program. Amongst those who took the time to respond to my speech was a woman who shared a story with me. She told my how she had informed one of my previous opponents that she was going to vote for me, even though she was a lifelong member of his political party.
We have not fulfilled our duty as representatives of the people until we bequeath to the next generation a love of public service, a zeal for facts, a craving for collaboration, an awareness of the feelings of those in need, and appreciation of loyalty, a vision for America's future, and the ability and willingness to take a blow to your good name.
This past week, the Greater Kanas City Chamber of Commerce made its way to Washington for its annual "D.C. Fly-In." During the visit, 25 or so business leaders meet with Members of Congress to discuss matters important to the Kansas City area. They talked with each member of the Congressional delegation from our area, including those from the state of Kansas. At the conclusion of my discussion with the group, I fielded a question about the "dysfunctionality" of Washington, and why I continue to work on civility in the midst of such red hot partisanship. Let me share my answer.
This message is influenced by the greatest theologians of our times, Lucy and Linus of Peanuts fame. Linus is contentedly watching TV when Lucy walks in and orders the changing of the channel. She backs up this demand by showing him her ferocious fist. "What makes you think you can walk in here and take over?" asks an infuriated Linus.
"These five fingers," says Lucy. "Individually they're nothing, but when I curl them together like this into a unit, they form a weapon that is terrible to behold."
The most explosive running back I have ever seen in person was Berniece Mundean, my high school team mate. Under different circumstances, I believe that Mundean would have been an outstanding college running back and would have certainly ended up in the National Football League. He was just that good. During practice, one warm fall evening in Wichita Falls, the team was going through our punt return coverage where the punt returners were at one end of the field while the punter and two line men were at the other end.
As a sophomore student at Texas A&M at Prairie View, I hung out mostly with guys from Dallas and Fort Worth. Perhaps it was because I lived in that area during the first seven years of my life, and most of the Cleaver Clan still lived there.
One day, the wind and the sun were sitting around casually gazing upon the goings on in the earth. A man caught their attention as he walked in an open area with a long and heavy coat.
An argument ensued over which of them could cause him to remove it. A flip of the coin and the wind got to go first. It blew and blew which at one point knocked the man down. However the man rose to his feet and drew his coat tighter and tighter. "You lose!" the sun shouted. The sun then simply increased its brightness and warmth, and the man slipped out of his coat.
On January 7, I had surgery on an earlier left knee replacement. Recovery is always slow and painfully difficult. I ought to know, I have had six big time operations that cut short my college football aspirations. Although, to be entirely accurate, the defensive back coach might also have cut it short -- by cutting me.
Omar Khayyam was a Persian philosopher, poet, and mathematician, who is perhaps most remembered for his agnosticism, at least by those of us who studied him from the Judeo/Christian perspective. Nonetheless, he was a major thinker of his time.
The one thing that will always stand out in my mind, is the Khayyam poem, which rhythmically expresses an eternal truth:
"The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it."
Over the years of ministerial and political careers, I have had many encounters with those who seem to enjoy attacking the work of others. As a boy, my sisters and I spent many Saturday nights with our Grandma Annie Mae, and on Sunday morning, we would attend her church. Although the pastor was not likely seminary trained, he said something one Sunday that he perhaps knew to be profound and dynamic. I know that it struck a chord with at least two people, me and the preacher. For the next few years, he altered his best line each time I went to Grandma's church.