TJ Hirst

My daughter’s eighth grade English class has been reading To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, and it is the April selection for the Bodacious Bloggity Book Club hosted by Marathon Bird.

I hoped reading it together would prompt conversation with her. Even though my daughter is now my height and the story brought us into the same frame of reference, we were still looking through the window of those words from our own places. She is experiencing this story for the first time. I am relearning and refining.

The first time I read To Kill A Mockingbird is the first time I understood the power of perspective. In the concluding scene the main character, a young girl named Scout, recognizes her change of perspective:

Atticus was right. One time he said you never really know a man until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them. Just standing on the Radley porch was enough.

I occasionally stand on my neighbor’s front porch to try this exercise. That change of perspective certainly reveals the weaknesses and uncovers the strengths of my own home.

Now, I am reading this book again with parent eyes, with added experience and adult-like assumptions.I am not nearly as fresh. And neither is my perspective.

But only in this place could I discover something new.

Harper Lee’s did not choose Scout to tell the story of misunderstood Arthur “Boo” Radley and maligned Tom Robinson so that younger readers in high school literature discussions could relate to her.

Instead, I believe Lee gave us this story through the young eyes of Scout to replace our tired adult perspectives. In this way, she could strip the prejudice of experience and offer the opportunity to relearn like a child.

Scout’s childhood perceptions aren’t innocent. In fact, as her brother Jem said, it was when they were trying to get their reclusive neighbor, Boo, to come out of his house that this story of overcoming prejudice begins. They think he is quirky and weird, and he is.

But Scout and Jem have to go through the miserable punishment of reading to Mrs Dubose every day for ruining her shrubs and the horrific racial injustices in their community before they prepared to meet and accept the real Boo Radley.

I want to parent like Atticus. He seems like the kind of father that teaches by example rather than always trying to teach with his mouth. For example, in the process of guiding Jem through his punishment with Mrs. Dubose he shows his children how to love someone who is hard to like. Atticus overlooks her flaws and discovers what is majestic about her—her bravery to overcome an addiction.

I teach with my mouth because I like words. As a family we recently watched the movie Amazing Grace (read my review of that here). When my daughter and I considered the impact of that movie on reading this book and what our own prejudices might be against African Americans, it was she who taught me. She said, “It was like when slavery ended, it didn’t end.”

Ironically, it is in the dim light of Jem’s room when Scout finally meets Boo and comes to her own understanding.

They were white hands that had never seen the sun, so white they stood out garishly against the dull cream wall in the dim light of Jem’s room. His face was as white as his hands.

It took her describing him as the individual he really was, not just a creation in her mind for her to see him and know who he is. Later she says,

I wondered why Atticus was inviting us to the front porch instead of the living room, then I understood. The living room lights were awfully strong.

Boo is sensitive to light. This brings this story to a symbolic conclusion for me. While light makes it possible for us to see, being sensitive to that light helps us to not only see but to perceive slight attitudes, feeling and circumstances of others.

The Question: Have I seen the hand of God reaching out to touch us today?

Inspired words I heard:

The perception is that you are on a huge roller coaster.

You pull yourself up the hill or push yourself down.

In reality, life is gentle rolling hills.

Rather than ride a roller coaster, you need to flatten it out.

Flatten it out, but gradually raise it’s elevation.

Then it’s always high.

Rabbi Morris Zimbalist and Bishop Paul Hirst conclude their conversation on similarities in their respective congregation. Read previous entries here.

Rabbi Zimbalist is the rabbi of Montebello Jewish Center in Montebello, NY. Bishop Hirst is the bishop of the Brainerd Ward of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Brainerd, MN.

In what ways do you participate in the larger community?

Rabbi Zimbalist: I am currently the President of the Rockland County Board of Rabbis, a group consisting of all non-Orthodox rabbis in the county. I am a trustee of the Holocaust Museum and Study Center in Rockland County. I am involved with the Jewish Federation, a member of the admissions committe for the Rabbinical School at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America, and the chaplain for the local fire department. I am a former member of the editorial board for the Rockland Jewish Reporter and the former chaplain for the Jewish War Veterans of the State of New York.

Bishop Hirst: Personally, I’ve been a board member and president of a local arts group. However, because of church responsibilities, I’ve had to give some of that up. We are encouraging our members to reach out and participate as they are able in the community. We’re working on a community blood drive with the Red Cross this spring.

What is the most difficult aspect of your job?

Rabbi Zimbalist: Trying to please everyone. Facing every interpersonal interaction with a sense of uncertainty as to whether or not I am going to be able to help or guide someone with whatever questions or concerns they may be facing.

Bishop Hirst: Knowing how to reach those who, at one time, felt the Spirit and were participants but now, for all sorts of reasons, are not. They aren’t receiving and feeling the blessings that can be theirs.

Church discipline is also a difficult. Imposing consequences on others for their actions and choices is not pleasant. But there is often joy with it, too, as people repent and return to God.

What is the best part of your responsibilities?

Rabbi Zimbalist: Helping people through the more difficult life experiences - pastoral visits in hospitals, comforting and counseling families at a time of loss, taking care of the final needs of those who have passed away. When I do those things, I really feel that I am helping people, particularly helping them through a time of crisis, and I also feel like all of those efforts are appreciated.

Bishop Hirst: Interviewing the children before their baptisms. Watching people rise to the challenge.

What has surprised you, either in a positive or negative way, about your role as clergy?

Rabbi Zimbalist: I am most surprised that it is so incredibly hard to motivate volunteers to do anything, and that people look to me for more than spiritual, ritual or religious things.

Bishop Hirst: The mantle of the office is, in some ways, heavier than I anticipated. I’m also amazed, that while I’m not really a different person since being called and set apart, that people respect the office. I’m still the same, but the office I hold is sacred and people respond to that more than me personally. I was counseled when I was called to put my own “stamp” on the ward. I’ve been surprised how difficult this is, too.

I’ve also been surprised at how few middle-of-the-night calls I’ve received, so far. But I’ve also been told by others that it takes about a year for the members to start trusting, so I may have some more interesting experiences to look forward to, too.

To you, what is the most meaningful part of your faith?

Rabbi Zimbalist: The most meaningful part of my faith is constantly trying to grow closer to God in all that I do, both as a rabbi and as a Jew.

Bishop Hirst: My personal relationship with Christ. This relationship grows through living the covenants I have made with him, which covenants teach me to love my fellowman (Matt 22:36-40).

In Conclusion

This conversation has mostly illustrated that regardless of religious identification, the clergy and their families experience many similar joys and frustrations, and that practicing faith, teaching faith, and encouraging others to have faith is very challenging.

On a personal level, Alison said:

This conversation has taken me back to many memories of our adolescent friendship. The J family was much more religious than my family, and I remember going to church with you on Sunday mornings and sitting in your kitchen doing homework while your family had family prayer time in the next room. I never felt strange or out-of-place as a Jew in these situations. It never even occurred to me that maybe others would feel that way in that situation! It is that same religious respect that I think is reflected throughout this “e-conversation.” I think we can only hope that our children will grow up with those same views towards others who practice different religions, even as they live very different religious lives

Reconnecting in this way with Alison and Morrie reminded Teresa of her interest in and respect of their Jewish faith back in high school. Teresa said:

The rich symbolism and history appealed to me then and it still does. I teach a religion class about the Old Testament to high school students. The personal connection with the practices of a modern Jewish family enriched that study and the class discussions with the LDS youth. And in our own family, as Paul said, we learned some new interesting things about Judaism that we didn’t know before.

Overall, we have been amazed at the similarities this conversation uncovered. Most of all, our goals seem to be the same—that is to have our members draw nearer to God through living the commandments and their covenants.

Try-It With-Me Tuesday, an interactive weekly time and place to foster connections that challenge and encourage the process to become a well-rounded person.

Kh was practicing the piano. She stopped playing, came into the kitchen and told me, “I love the days when your cheeks are really soft. Like today your cheeks are really soft. When I kiss you, I want to keep doing it.”

My daughter expressed this affection on a day of disappointments for me.

I planned to encourage someone this week by giving genuine praise or positive feedback. But my own circumstances trapped my mind into thinking only about myself. Her words supported me.

Later that day, Paul and I had planned a date to a bluegrass concert. But I just wanted to sit at home with my sorrows—feed on them might be a better way to say it.

Paul said, “I think it would be good for us to get out.”

His prodding and sense of humor made it good for me. And the music and energy of Monroe Crossing, a Minnesota-based bluegrass band, brightened our night.

Motivated to keep my challenge, I passed confidence along with positive words to an empty-nest mom eager to show off her family photos.

Did you Try It With Me? What encouraging words did you give or receive recently and what was the impact? Share your story in a comment below.

↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓

I am still Trying to Memorize something inspiring for the April Reading Challenge by next Tuesday, April 29. I just had several surprises added to my “to do” list, so it will be a stretch for me.

Are you trying to memorize something? If you are, visit next Tuesday and tell me what happened when you tried it with me.

If you haven’t started, yet, there is still time. Pick a short, inspirational quote, saying, scripture or poem that you have read that inspires you. Then memorize it!

Do you have a website of your own? If you do, you can Try It With Me and write your own post about it. I will publish your link next Tuesday. Just link to my site in that post and send me your link.

Duluth, Minnesota, is one of our family’s favorite Midwestern cities. Just over the crest of a tall hill, as north as Interstate 35 goes, the blue water views of Lake Superior introduce the surprise of this port city in a state that otherwise appears land-locked and flat.

We discover Duluth aesthetics, nature-made and man-made, on every visit. We search the narrow, hilly city streets for the restaurants where the locals eat, watch for shipping traffic to come in and out of the harbor, wait while the Aerial Lift Bridge raises and lowers for them, and pass through “Tunnel Land” (as our children call it) to the scenic North Shore destinations of Gooseberry Falls and Split Rock Lighthouse.

We travel as a family to Duluth at least two weekends a year for church conferences and more frequently by ourselves for other meetings. Since I love to explore new places, I research the web and ask friends about the unknown places we have missed.

I found Skyline Parkway in a guidebook. While my husband was in a meeting with a potential client, my children and I drove this narrow roadway that overlooks the city and Lake Superior. And, we happened upon Enger Park and its lookout tower from behind the fire of fall’s changing leaves.

Memories of these simple adventures prompt us to plan our next ones—UNTIL THIS WEEKEND.

We reserved a suite at a hotel with a water slide. A friend invited us to drive up and see Gooseberry Falls. When that didn’t fit our schedule, she invited us to join them at the Lake Superior Zoo.

“What do you think about the zoo?” I said to my children.

They said, “We would be looking at a big empty place with a lot of colorful toys, waiting for a big animal to come out from hiding to play with them.”

“So what should we do in Duluth?”

From my oldest, a teenager, “We have been going there twice a year for the whole time we lived here—for like eight years. That’s at least 14 times. Nothing’s new anymore. What do we do now? Start over from the beginning and do the same things all over again?”

I can see how they might have outgrown stopping at every Lake Superior beach. Or maybe they have just lost interest in doing it in the unpredictable 40 degree rain and wind.

And I think I understand. This may be a signal that it is time for a change of routine.

But I hesitate. It may be a symptom of our tendency to cast off what is old to discover what’s new, again.

It is important to endure and preserve meaningful traditions. We can redevelop our interest and enjoy new pursuits in the same situation. But should we always?

When it has lost its appeal, it may have also lost its purpose. Perhaps, we might reconsider our purpose.