Faith In Action

Christ is risen!

Like a lot of you, I’m a convert to Orthodoxy. I grew up in Harlem (New York) attending church at Bright Temple AME (African Methodist Episcopal) in the Bronx. It was and remains a church with folks loving God, doing His work for the community (i.e. feeding the poor, helping out the homeless, doing what it can for whoever needs help). I spent time there because that’s where my family went. We would, of course, visit other AME churches, but Bright Temple was our church home. It was there I got to see faith in action.

It was there I heard hear Pastor Kemp preach wonderful sermons with his powerful voice that would often cut through the granite of my young, fidgety teenage soul, as I giggled, snickered, and plain old “cut up” with Tyrone and Keith in the back of the church, only to have my mom turn around and give me a look that I knew meant I had to bring it down a notch or deal with her later. It was there I would see my father decked out in his Sunday suit and white gloves, standing as an usher at the door to greet regulars and newcomers. It was there, in Bright Temple AME that I would see both he and my mom on their knees praying.

Seeing my parents get on their knees in prayer did more for my faith than they will ever know. Like most kids, my parents, Rosa Lee and Pops were and remain Superman and Superwoman to me. Seeing your superheroes kneel before God is a very humbling thing to witness. Humbling enough to let you know that you ought to pay attention to what it was they were doing. I was a little kid who paid attention. I paid attention to the well-respected man who never once complained about waking up at four in the morning to head to the General Motors plant in Tarrytown, New York for 35 years; the man whose t-shirts I’d wear and notice the holes from the sparks of the welding he’d done. The man who woke up on Sundays, quietly drank his coffee, while handing me the funnies (comics) from the Sunday newspaper. I paid attention to the woman without much education and more common sense than anyone I know, who cleaned the homes of her well-to-do white employers in downtown Manhattan; who had/has pride in everything she does; who never blamed “white people” for where she was in life; who encouraged me continuously with reminders of how I could do something if I just put my mind to it; who always made sure I was up to get dressed and head to church; who was smart enough to entice me to church by offering me the front seat next to Pops (I love you for that, Ma ).

So, now I’m a parent with children, and even have a grandson. My parenting track record isn’t without it’s blemishes, of course. I’m divorced and remarried, and I have no doubt each of my daughters (four beautiful daughters in total) could tell me a few things that would hurt but probably be better for me, but surely I’m not alone. The road to successful parenting is littered with plenty of evidence of The Fall that the first parents of the world suffered. The path I choose is to forgive my parents any mistakes and to look on the best of what they offered me. I mean things like always say thank you and please; chew with your mouth closed; show respect for your elders; ladies first (which is sometimes a challenge in Sweden); be a gentleman; don’t do anything halfway; take care of your family; pay your bills on time; and last but by no means least: follow Christ.

I still try and abide by those nuggets my parents passed on to me. And, funny enough, when I go and visit my parents back in Harlem the rules are the same. They cut me no slack just because I’m an adult now, and I love that. I love that my children get to see it to. Also, I still get a feeling of pride when I see them dress up and head to Bright Temple AME in the Bronx. They’re still my superheroes.

I hope those of you who are parents out there understand just how valuable your kids seeing your faith in action is to them. I think it’s important kids see their parents humble themselves before God and get to see us struggle a bit in our faith. I believe it’s important for them to see our struggles so those same struggles don’t come as such a shock for them. I also believe it’s crucial for them to know where to go when they think or feel the struggle is more than they can bear. My young mind couldn’t really fathom the struggles of my parents, but I knew God must’ve been pretty powerful in order for superheroes like them to ask for his help.

I remind myself time and again on the value of having my daughters see me make the sign of the Cross. I now have the same parental authority my parents had when I was a child. As you can imagine, that must mean quite a bit to a guy who still refers to his parents as superheroes. I can only imagine what it means when I say to my children “Make your Cross/Cross yourself before you go out”, or “Don’t forget your prayers”, before they go to bed. If it doesn’t mean much to them now, I’m guessing it will mean a lot in times to come.

Christ is risen!