Mr. Rogers’ Pool
Where is our Mr. Rogers now when you need him?
That first reading from the prophet Habakkuk could have been written last week, quite frankly: “How long, O Lord? I cry to you. I see nothing but violence and strife and clamorous discord. The world is falling apart before my very eyes …”
There were some who thought the very same thing in the late 1960s, too … and a Presbyterian minister-turned-PBS children’s TV host knew it. His prayerful, gentle (and some would say ‘prophetic’) spirit saw what was happening in the world around him -- assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert Kennedy; Vietnam and Kent State; civil rights injustices still raging in the American South -- and without any fanfare, one Mr. Fred Rogers of Latrobe, Pa., introduced an African American police officer onto his show, inviting him into the world he was creating for children where respect was offered to all and justice was lived out as naturally as putting on a colorful cardigan and tennis shoes.
There was pushback, of course, from some PBS affiliates who didn’t want a black cop interacting so casually with a white man, and they threatened to pull Rogers’ show from their morning line-up. Fred knew it, and so did the actor who played the cop. Instead of backing down, however, Mr. Rogers did the one thing he believed Jesus would have done.
He pulled out the plastic wading pool.
One week after the hate mail and threats, there Mr. Rogers sat outside his TV studio “home,” telling his TV audience of children (with Moms and Dads listening as they busied themselves with other things) that it was especially hot and sticky in his neighborhood lately, and he wanted to cool off. At that moment, Officer Clemmons appeared, mentioned something about the weather as he passed, and without hesitation, Mr. Rogers invited him to put his feet in the small plastic pool placed atop fake grass. Together, the two men – two different races – found peace in the water they both shared (a no-no in many places then). You might call it a baptism, of sorts.
It also was a “baptism” that changed the heart of the man who played the role of Officer Clemmons.
By his own account many years after the fact, the actor shared in an interview that he was hurt deeply by the vitriol he and Fred Rogers received for the interracial friendship they shared on PBS. That hate within him was growing and he was holding onto rage: at society; at those who didn’t respect him; at the ones who were willing to teach their toddlers how to hate, too.
But then, that plastic pool scene became his mustard seed moment – a seed that uprooted the mulberry tree and planted it into the depths of the ocean.
I never truly understood this piece of folksy advice that Christ offers to his apostles after they ask him to increase their faith. Like you, I know I have asked for things “in faith” that never came to be; mulberry trees that never were uprooted. Relationships I prayed about still fell apart. Jobs I wanted didn’t work out. Death of a loved one still occurred. Tree after tree remained firmly planted, not even bending toward the ocean. Didn’t I have faith the size of a mustard seed? No doubt, we’ve all asked ourselves the same question. Why is God silent? What’s wrong with my prayer? Don’t I have faith?
I realize now, however, that in coming to understand this passage, I wasn’t getting the whole picture. Immediately before this moment, the Lord made it clear to his followers that forgiveness was vital – the one thing necessary – to loving God and our neighbor. It was the foundation of God’s covenantal love, and the very reason why he went to Calvary: to forgive us and show us how to forgive one another. Thus, when he tells his disciples that they can move mulberry trees, Jesus uses the image of a deeply-rooted, seemingly-unmovable shrub in order to remind us that in Him, forgiveness is possible – that trees of anger and fear that latch-on can be moved to the oceans of mercy that await.
The hate we hold onto is our mulberry tree, deeply rooted in our hearts. That hate comes in many forms these days – and it might be worth asking: where (and what) is that mulberry tree in your life right now? What won’t you let go off? Whom won’t you forgive?
Pray with that thought or that emotion and then take the advice of Christ: mustard seed your mulberry tree. The littlest of all seeds – the mustard seed – is one that grows beautifully to shade us from the heat of the noonday sun and safely shelter all the different birds of the sky. With patience and watering, the mustard seed will bloom in time and can do the difficult work of digging-up roots of hate.
Our task, then: Mustard seed your mulberry tree roots by praying daily for the one who hurt you, even if you don’t feel like it would make a difference.
Mustard seed your mulberry roots by finding ways to serve and love those who have been hurt or harmed by others.
Mustard seed your mulberry tree by repeating the very words of the One who went to the Cross to forgive me for my sins, and the sins of each one of us: “Father, forgive them. They know not what they do.”
That supreme act of sacrificial outpouring love from the Cross forever moved the mulberry tree, but the Lord leaves it to us to choose if we want to allow that same tree to be moved within us. Hate is a decision we make, often daily. What will you (and I) choose? Will we take Paul’s words to Timothy to heart: “Stir into flame the gift of God given to you, not of cowardice but of power and love and self-control?” Will we accept the fact that Jesus died so that we could be forgiven and offer that mercy in return?
That final piece of the Gospel advice from Jesus is also quite telling when you stop to pray with it. Yes, it is true that we are unprofitable servants. Everything we have comes from God. Everything. Knowing this keeps us humble and open to faith and forgiveness as a gift.
Yet, I’m also thinking about what Jesus says in terms of that gift: what wealthy person invites his servants to sit and waits on them, instead of the other way around? Isn’t the servant the one who is supposed to wait on the master? To this, of course, we’d all say yes. That’s the way it’s supposed to work.
Except: the Master did invite us to sit at table as he washed the feet of his servants, showing them on the night of the Last Supper what true servant-leadership looks like. As He has done, so must we. And in so doing, that’s how faith grows and mulberry trees of hate are uprooted, all because Jesus showed us the way.
As did a Christian gentleman on PBS named Mr. Rogers – planting mustard seeds in plastic wading pools.