By Wanda Kidd
CBFNC Collegiate Engagement Coordinator
Luke 18:16-17– “But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who does not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”
In my early 20’s, I had a brief brush with fame when I played Nellie Forbush in the Hillsborough Community Theater production of “South Pacific.” I have to admit, I did not see it as a radical vehicle to shine the light on racism, which only shows how oblivious we so often are to the evidence of injustice all around us. After all, the whole story surrounding Nellie was that she was in love with a man who had bi-racial children from a previous marriage to a Polynesian woman. A reality that Nellie, a girl from Little Rock, AR, could not see how to overcome, but after wrestling with the consequences of losing the man she loves, she accepts the children and hopefully comes to love them as well.
Expressing that hope is why Roger Hammerstein fought to keep the song “You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught” in the production. He persevered against financial backers, politicians and well-meaning friends who thought the world was not ready for the country to mix entertainment with social justice. Yet the song, which was the shortest and least melodious in “South Pacific” still haunts me.
You’ve got to be taught
To hate and fear
You’ve got to be taught
From year to year
It’s got to be drummed
in your dear little ear
You’ve got to be carefully taught
You’ve got to be taught
To be afraid
Of people whose eyes
are oddly made
And people whose skin
Is a different shade
You’ve got to be carefully taught
You’ve got to be taught
Before it’s too late
Before you are six or seven or eight
To hate all the people
your relatives hate
You’ve got to be carefully taught
After college, I served in a First Baptist church in a small town with an antebellum worldview. During that time I was often reminded of that song as I worked with the youth and children. In the summer of 1980, I was teaching the fifth and sixth graders in Vacation Bible School. As we were lining up to march into the sanctuary on the second morning, two young Black boys joined the crowd of over a 100 children. I was immediately aware of the possibilities this moment presented. They had attended church with their mom for a couple of Sundays and word was that they were from somewhere up north and just felt more comfortable at First Baptist than the other churches they had visited.
I immediately stepped over and asked them what grade they would be entering in the fall. I was struck by their courage in what I was sure was an uncomfortable situation. They stood there with their Bibles in their hands, standing straight and tall. I was delighted when they told me one was going to be into the fifth and the other the sixth. I had no reason to believe the other teachers would be unkind to the boys, but this was uncharted territory and I was glad they were going to be in my group. When the time came, they lined up with everyone else and marched in, but slid in the back pew with me rather than sit with the other children.
The day went well from my perspective. I would love to know what they thought. I saw no deliberate slights nor heard any spoken rebuffs. My prayer was that we modeled inclusion and treated the newcomers as we would all who were new to the group. My feelings as the last kids left the room were overwhelming.
This was a monumental day for this church, this was a great opportunity to model Christ for these children who were on the cusp of adolescence. They were headed toward adulthood with songs of their childhood ringing in their head. Songs that spoke of Jesus lovingthe little children, all the children of the world and God’s love “Flowing Deep and Wide.” The verdict was still out as to who were they going to be as followers of Christ and this experience could bend the arc a little more toward justice.
Wednesday and Thursday went well and they became more comfortable with the group, even sitting with them during opening assembly each morning. But on Friday the boys did not arrive in time to march in. I wondered if I had misread the week and if something had happened that I was not aware of, but right after the first “Stand-Up” cord on the piano sounded, the boys slipped in beside me on the back row.
As the group was sitting down, the student on the end of the row in front of me noticed them sitting there. What happened next brought me to tears. With no prompting, the student punched the boy beside him in the ribs and pointed to the boys sitting beside me. I held my breath, ‘Where was this going?’
.
Then the next boy tapped the next person and pointed to the boys and motioned for them to slide down. The tapping and motioning proceeded down the whole row until there was enough room for both boys to sit on the same pew as the rest of the group. They motioned for the boys, who had been strangers three days ago, to move onto the church pew with them and they did.
Children and young people will often surprise you. That is especially true if we model love and give them space and time to grow into their own calling of compassion.
Which brings to mind another Oscar Hammerstein quote: “If you become a teacher, by your pupils you’ll be taught.”
