One of the things my pastors, and pastors before them, have often said is that you should be different on Good Friday than you were on Ash Wednesday. It’s not always easy to do that. The texts tend to be SO familiar that one has a tendency to “mail it in,” theologically. “Oh, yeah, that scripture; I know EXACTLY what that means.” I think, remarkably, that I did not “mail it in” this Lent.
This relatively early Easter reminded me that back on March 30, 1986, it was Easter Sunday. It was also the wedding day of my friend Miriam Isaacs; she was Jewish, and evidently unaware of this Christian tradition. An hour and a half before the wedding, I called for a taxi for my then-girlfriend and me. The dispatcher said it’d be there in 15 minutes. Continue reading Easter taxi?→
When I was in high school in Binghamton (upstate NY) in the late 1960s, my sister Leslie, another black teenage girl and I were invited to visit the classroom of the junior high school in suburban Vestal. The reason, if I’m remembering correctly (and it was over 40 years ago) was that the only black teenagers they saw were ones on television, and in those days, that was mighty few.
Interestingly, the male teacher of this music class was black, who was likely the only one, and therefore one more than there was at the time at Binghamton Central HS.