I woke up in the middle of the night with a memory about something I haven't thought of in a long time. Right after college I spent some time as a mission volunteer for the Presbyterian Church. I ended up in Santa Fe and when my volunteer time was ended, I stayed another year working as a full time musician. I accompanied all of the vocal classes out at the community college and I played piano and organ for several local churches. One of those churches was St. Francis Cathedral on the square. I was invited to come one evening to their Saturday service and to help their music director who had been both directing and playing for the praise team. I filled in that evening because he had broken his arm, but afterwards, he hired me (well, paid me a tiny stipend) to continue to play for them. I loved this particular job for so many reasons, and I was happy to do it no matter what they paid or didn't pay. The music was fun to play, but what was more important, the praise team itself was comprised of truly kind, loving, faithful people. They were a wonderful small group and I enjoyed being with them. As I said, we were a very small team. One day we had two new people come join us: a young woman and her boyfriend. We needed their voices, they sang very well and we were excited to welcome them.
However, the young woman took an instant dislike to me. More, she was verbally nasty about it. I cannot remember a single thing that she actually said. What I remember is that she started, that very first night, to say mean and hurtful things about me to the other members of our little group. The other members, as I said, were deeply faithful, loving people. And so not one of them joined in with her comments. They all looked very uneasy, uncomfortable, and said nothing. None of the comments were said to me: they were all nasty comments said about me to the others in the group, but in a loud enough voice that I couldn't help but hear them. There was no way to respond to these comments. After the rehearsal, the choir director approached me and just asked me what I thought of the new couple. I told him that I had heard her comments and didn't know what I had done to upset her so much but that they were very hurtful.
The next time we met, she was there and her comments began almost immediately. Again, I can remember no specifics of what she said. But I remember with extreme clarity what happened next. The choir director stopped the rehearsal, looked directly at this woman and said, "We are incredibly blessed to have Barbara here. I pay her a pittance of what she deserves, but she comes every week and helps us out of the goodness of her heart and from a place of faith. We would not be the group that we are without her playing for us as she does. I will not allow anything in this group that threatens her happiness and comfort here. Therefore if anyone is unkind to her, they are not welcome to be part of this group." All of us were stunned. I was stunned most of all. I did not expect him to be so direct, so confrontational or so strong in both his support of me and his insistence on the kindness of others. Needless to say, the couple did not return. We lost needed singers for the group. At the same time, I will never forget that this man stood up for me, nor that he was willing to let people go in order to maintain the health and kindness of a team whose culture had been and returned to being one of great compassion and care for one another.
While I have not thought of this incident in years, I know that his willingness to stand up for me has given me likewise the strength to stand up for others. I also find it so very interesting that while I usually remember every insult and rarely retain the compliments, that in this case, it is just the opposite. I don't remember what she said about me at all. I only remember the kindness of this man. I wonder if this isn't the case for others when they are defended, protected, and valued in such a concrete way. Those acts of kindness go in deep. And they change who we are.
As I've reflected on this memory, it brought to mind my favorite chapter from Jane Austen's book Emma. Mr. Elton is very unkind to Harriet because she loved him while being a poor "born out of wedlock" young woman. She has no family connections or money and he feels it necessary to demean her and "put her in her place" for daring to care for him. They are at a dance and someone suggests to Mr. Elton that he should dance with Harriet. He not only refuses, but does so in a humiliating way that makes it clear he sees Harriet as dirt. She is sitting in absolute shame when someone of a much higher class than Mr. Elton, upon seeing Mr. Elton's cruelty, walks angrily by him and asks Harriet to dance. That kindness, too, changed Harriet for the better. She no longer pines for Mr. Elton. She realizes that kindness is higher and more important than class or money every single time.
I am deeply grateful to the music director who stood up for me. I am grateful for the memory waking me this morning. And I pray it may continue to inspire me to also be kind and willing to stand up for those who experience unkindness or injustice in the future.
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