“ALL SAINTS’ DAY”

All Saints Sunday was yesterday – it is the time when we remember those who have gone before us, whose lives gave us hope, love and courage.  In these days of “monsters in America,”  we need these “good” ghosts to re-visit us to give us a vision of being people of justice, compassion, and equity.  If you have not done so already, please take some time this week to give thanks for those saints who been forces for good in your life.  I have many in my life, for which I give thanks.  I’ll use today’s space to name three of those, recognizing that they have had a great influence in my life and also recognizing that there are many others.

The first saint in today’s list (and in every list that I will produce) is my mother Mary Armour Stroupe.  She was born in Byhalia, Mississippi in 1919 and was valedictorian of her high school class.  She had hoped to go to college, but her family had no money for it, especially in the grips of the Great Depression.  She scraped up enough money to go to beauty school (now cosmetology school), and she worked in that profession until her retirement in 1986.  During the last 10 years of her work life, she was the lead instructor at the school of cosmetology at Phillips County Community College.  There she worked with many women – and a few men – seeking to become cosmetologists.  But, for me, her sainthood lies in her raising me as a single, working mother after my father abandoned her and me.  She dedicated so much energy and time to me, and I will ever be grateful to her for all the gifts that she shared with me.

The second saint is the Reverend Harold Jackson, who became the minister at First Presbyterian Church, which was my home church in Helena, Arkansas.  He arrived there in the late 1958 and stayed there until late 1964.  First Presbyterian was a central pillar in my life, and as flawed as it was – it would not allow Black people to worship there – it was a source of strength and meaning to me.  J. Harold, as my mother called him, was our minister through my late junior high years and high school years.  He was not a dour Calvinist; rather he brought a sense of life and possibility to church life, a sense that God loved us and sought us to be vessels of God’s mercy and justice in the world.  Most of all, for me, he made the ministry seem like a viable profession.  He had passion and joy and a great sense of humor, and he retained both his humanity and masculinity in the church world which seems to require that male ministers leave behind the world and their identity.  He also introduced me to the need for justice in the world, and he strongly urged all of us to been involved in that essential work of God.  I stayed in touch with Harold until his death in Nashville in 2019.

The third saint in this list was one of the pivotal members at Oakhurst Presbyterian Church in Decatur, Georgia, where Caroline and I were co-pastors for 30+ years.  Azzie Preston was one of the first Black members at Oakhurst, and she became a key figure in enabling the power and dynamics of Oakhurst to shift from being a white church with Black members to a multiracial church with power shared among many people.  We came to Oakhurst on 1983, just as the former Northern Presbyterian denomination merged with the former Southern Presbyterian denomination, after the Southern denomination had seceded in 1861.  The merger - after 122 years – made changes in the governing structures of churches, and it enabled congregations to open up the nominating process for leadership.  Azzie volunteered to coordinate that process, and in so doing, brought forth new leadership which changed the dynamics of the church.  Later that same year, at the death of a Black Oakhurst member, she came to me and said:  “I know that you have never done a Black funeral before, and I’m going to coach you on how to do it.”  She was also a witness for racial justice in her workplace, and she often received death threats at work for that witness.  Azzie taught me (and Oakhurst) so many lessons, and I am grateful for her life and witness.

I give thanks for these three witnesses and saints in my life, as well as for many others.  So, take time to remember these kinds of folk in your life and to give thanks for these “good” ghosts.  And, since the end of the voting period in this country is this Tuesday, don’t forget to vote and to get others to vote.  Be like my mother – vote as if your life depended on it, because in this election in 2022, it does.