Editorials/Speeches

Does Tamerlan Tsarnaev deserve a funeral?

By James Coffin

Yesterday (April 21, 2013) I read two unrelated internet articles that melded together in my mind. One speculated about the feelings doctors might have about providing medical care to a “public enemy.” The lead-in blurb mused: “What’s a good doctor to do when a villain hobbles into the emergency room? Kent Sepkowitz on the human obligation to treat everyone. Even Dzhokhar Tsarnaev.”

“There is no moral dilemma,” one commenter responded. “Patient hits the door of the Emergency Room, patient gets treated. Period. End of discussion. There is no philosophizing, no angst. Everyone gets the best care possible, regardless of who they are or what they’ve done.” I agree.

The second article was headlined: “Tamerlan Tsarnaev, suspected Boston Bomber, may not get Islamic funeral from wary Muslims.” A wide range of opinions were voiced concerning whether clergy should provide a religious funeral for someone who has committed Tsarnaev’s alleged atrocities.

One thing for sure, it’s a no-win situation for the Muslims. If they provide a proper burial and full religious rites, they’ll be accused of supporting extremism. Yet if they refuse, they’ll be labelled a heartless, graceless religion.

I know nothing firsthand about the rituals, liturgy and general emphasis of a Muslim funeral. But I do know from having attended or officiated at many Christian funerals that, irrespective of how much the focus may be on the deceased’s transition from this life, a major part of the exercise, directly or indirectly, is to bring comfort and a degree of finality to the living.

No matter how villainous a person may have been, he or she is someone’s son or daughter, sister or brother, mother or father, friend or neighbor. Even in the case of bad people, the survivors typically look to the spiritual community to help them process what has happened and the reality of their loved one’s death.

I think we should leave it with the Muslims to proceed in whatever way they feel is most appropriate in this case, granted the highly complex web of circumstances they’re dealing with.

However, it’s worth noting that, if the medical community can (quite appropriately, I believe) remain free from condemnation despite being committed to heal even humanity’s worst, then we surely shouldn’t condemn the spiritual community when it seeks to bring healing to those whose lives have been deeply affected by years of contact with a deceased person of questionable character–yet who’s someone doctors would have been expected to treat without hesitation or reservation.

James Coffin is executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida.

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Prayer/Reflection, OCPS Faith-Based Advisory

By James Coffin (April 18, 2013)

Let us pray:

We collectively reach out this morning to that Wisdom and Power which transcends all that’s human.

Because we care about the children in our community, we want to ensure they each have every advantage we’re able to provide.

Orange County Public Schools has recognized that faith-based entities represent a great resource–which has largely remained untapped. It’s to find effective ways to harness this potential that we’re meeting together as faith leaders and educators.

Our prayer is that this meeting might be characterized by harmony, by creativity and by a tenacity that refuses to rest until solutions are found and success is achieved.

We would hope that the words of Robert F. Kennedy would be the sentiment of each person gathered here: “Some men see things as they are and say Why? I dream things that never were and say Why not?”

At today’s meeting we want to “see things as they are” only while we’re assessing the challenge before us. Then we want that challenge drive us to “dream things that never were.”

And may we not only say “Why not?” but may we roll up our sleeves, commit ourselves fully to the task and make the dream become an impressive reality.

This is our prayer.

Amen.

James Coffin is executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida.

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Video highlights problem of bullying

By James Coffin

This past Tuesday (April 2, 2013), ESPN released a video of Rutgers University basketball coach Mike Rice shoving, kicking, screaming epithets and hurling balls directly at players on his team. It was ugly.

It was also convincing. Within 24 hours, Rice no longer had a coaching job. And in the various polls taken concerning whether he deserved his firing, there seemed to be little doubt. But questions still linger–such as, why wasn’t he fired sooner?

Unfortunately, whether we’re dealing with pedophile clergy, abusive coaches or workplace bullies, too many people put the perceived good of the institution ahead of the welfare of individuals. It seems Rutgers was no exception.

Only when ESPN broadcast the video did the university’s decision makers suddenly conclude that maybe their earlier three-game suspension and a $50,000 fine/pay cut (from more than $650,000 annually) hadn’t truly been an adequate response. So shouldn’t those who let Rice off so lightly also face repercussions?

Or course, there are plenty of other questions. Why did the players themselves put up with such mistreatment? Why didn’t they report Rice’s behavior to school authorities? Or to their parents?

Why? Because they desperately wanted something they felt they could have only if they put up with the bullying. And would they have been taken seriously had they complained to school administrators? Even when a former member of the coaching staff provided the shocking video, the matter was treated lightly.

The incentives to stay in a bullying situation are many and varied. Fear, need for security, longed-for opportunity, acceptance in the clique, a chance to be considered normal–all of these and more make adults, youth and children susceptible to bullies. Bullying usually has two major additional components: an imbalance of power and verbal, emotional or physical violence.

To complicate matters, our society doesn’t have a good track record of coming to the aid of those who seek help. Requests are too often met with indifference or dismissal. “Don’t be a wimp.” “Toughen up.” “I lived through it; so can you.”

One internet headline reported that Rice was fired because of a video. An astute commenter noted that the headline was incorrect: Rice was fired for violence against his students. That’s one call that somebody got right.

James Coffin is executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida.

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Reflection: OCPS Board Meeting

By James Coffin (January 15, 2013)

Please stand and join me in a reflection on the impact of the tragedy that occurred a month ago:

The Board of Orange County Public Schools exists because our community cares deeply about our most precious resource: our children.

Our hearts are heavy tonight because fresh in our minds are memories of what transpired a month ago in another community that’s just as committed to its children as we are to ours. The tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary School reminds us that the best of intentions and the most carefully laid plans can prove inadequate when pitted against a diabolical determination to inflict destruction and death.

In an ideal world, school boards would focus solely on education. You would always be wrestling with such things as how to ensure that delicate balance between . . .

• Emphasizing the three R’s, without neglecting the less-quantifiable aspects of learning.
• Catering to a variety of learning styles, while always expecting full mastery of essential skills and information.
• Presenting facts, while equipping each student to test the validity of the assertions made.
• Instilling crucial universal values, without promoting parochial or partisan dogmas.

But Sandy Hook, Columbine and other such tragedies are robbing you as school board members of that luxury. You now must also wrestle with the delicate balance of providing appropriate physical protection, while not transforming our schools into prison lookalikes.

The challenges you as a school board face have never been so daunting. Yet the privilege of serving has never been so great. Precisely because the stakes have never been so high.

Thank you for joining me in this reflection.

James Coffin is executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida.

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Apologies that Call for an Apology

By James Coffin

Have you noticed how a mea culpa from a public figure these days rarely even resembles “I’m sorry” or “I’m to blame” or “It was my fault”?

Rather, the apology, in essence, goes more like this: “I apologize unreservedly and with heartfelt concern to all those who were so stupid, so thin-skinned, so misguided as to be offended by my actions or comments.” And even that kind of excuse-for-an-apology often doesn’t come until there’s simply no way to avoid it.

But what’s truly amazing is how often the pubic–or at least certain segments of the public–responds as if there actually has been an apology!

Some thirty years ago I was covering (as a reporter) a major meeting of my denomination’s international leadership group. The church’s president, a man used to getting his own way, was determined to railroad through a new organizational structure for one of the church’s regions.

After several hours of floor speeches–many of them strongly against the motion–the president  took a straw vote “just to test the mood of the meeting.” His cherished proposal failed to pass. But noting that it had been “merely a straw vote,” he tabled the motion for later discussion.

His pressure tactics and obvious manipulation had upset some participants. So the next morning he acknowledged the complaints he’d received and said he felt an apology was in order. He alluded to a Chinese proverb that says, “When you apologize, bow low.” So, he said, he was “bowing low.”

Then he proceeded to apologize for having done such a poor job of presenting his case–so bad, in fact, that the majority of participants had voted against his proposal in the straw vote. Had he presented his case better, he assured his listeners, they would most certainly have seen the light and been on his side. With considerable emotion he declared his deep regret and chagrin at having been such an abysmal failure.

And he did it all with a straight face.

During the lunch break, I interviewed several of the meeting’s participants. Almost to a person, they told me how impressed they were that our world-church leader was so humble that he would publicly apologize for his mistakes. The fact that he was merely telling them that he’d underestimated their stupidity seemed to slip right past them!

But his charade worked. And when later that afternoon he called for a real vote on the motion, it passed.

I couldn’t help but think of that experience when Chuck Hagel, who’s being considered as a possible nominee for Secretary of Defense, recently “apologized” for statements made back in 1998 concerning a gay candidate for an ambassadorial appointment.

In his apology, Hagel said: “My comments 14 years ago in 1998 were insensitive. They do not reflect my views or the totality of my public record, and I apologize to Ambassador (James) Hormel and any LGBT Americans who may question my commitment to their civil rights. I am fully supportive of ‘open service’ and committed to LGBT military families” (emphasis mine).

To be fair, Hagel’s statement came closer to a true mea culpa than have many I’ve heard over the past few years. But it still had that all-too-familiar stench of being an apology for the stupidity of others rather than for his own mistake.

Note that he didn’t apologize to everyone in the LGBT community for the damage his 14-years-ago remarks might have done to them in any number of ways. Instead, he, in essence, apologized to those of the LGBT community who might be stupid enough to think that a man who would make admittedly insensitive comments 14 years ago just might not stand up for their civil rights now. Taking Hagel’s words at face value, who did he suggest had the problem? He himself? Or the ones to whom he was purportedly apologizing?

In the Christian scriptures we encounter the word “confession.” Confession is admitting one’s guilt. But we also encounter the word “repentance.” Repentance entails being truly sorry for one’s actions, accepting full responsibility, seeking to ensure there are no recurrences and righting the wrong to the degree possible. True apology must be based on both confession and repentance.

Carefully parsed words that in essence say the victims are stupid don’t qualify as an apology. They’re actually just one more thing that should be apologized for.

James Coffin is executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida.

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“Conversation” with Richard Mourdock

By James Coffin

I view myself as a calm, rational person. But on rare occasion, when something really pushes my buttons, the calm part disappears. It can happen when people slander my family or friends.

Since, figuratively, I think of God as both my heavenly “father” and “friend,” I didn’t take it well when you, Richard Mourdock, as a U.S. Senate candidate (R-Indiana), recently said God decides which women will get pregnant as a result of rape.

You said: “I don’t think God would ever want anyone harmed, sexually abused, or raped.” I agree wholeheartedly. But you didn’t say that until after being taken to task for saying: “Even when life begins in that horrible situation of rape, that it is something God intended to happen.” And you’ve never disavowed that latter statement.

So let me get this straight: Your position is that a knife-wielding maniac who gets his jollies by physically carving up women and defiling them–scarring both body and mind for the rest of their life–is acting contrary to God’s will. Right?

But once the victim has been defiled by the vile excuse-for-humanity that attacked her, at that point, you believe, deity suddenly steps in to decide whether the woman should or should not be blessed with a precious “gift from God”–a living, breathing, flesh-and-blood monument to the worst experience of her life. Am I hearing you right?

Certainly, I agree that God would never want rape. But nor would God want any child to ever be conceived under such circumstances.

Think about it, Mr. Mourdock. You believe God knows the future, right? So God’s knows which women are going to opt for abortion, right? So wouldn’t it be easy for God to say: “If you’re going to destroy the precious gift I’m about to give you as a result of this rape, then I just won’t give it to you”?

Likewise, why would the God who so deeply values human life–even prenatal life–give the affirmative nod to millions of non-rape conceptions that he knows in advance are doomed–if he’s truly the decider, that is? Doesn’t that make him ultimately responsible for the abortion industry?

Quite frankly, your contentions don’t do much for God’s public image. And from my perspective as a clergyman, that’s not what’s needed in a nation where people are already abandoning God faster than they’re accepting him.

I believe our reproductive capabilities are God-given. Generically. But when it comes to who gets pregnant and who doesn’t–especially in cases of rape–I much prefer the explanation of the writer of Ecclesiastes: that “time and chance” happen to everyone.

James Coffin is executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida.

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“This problem belong everybody”

By James Coffin

Years ago my work took me occasionally to various South Pacific islands where Pidgin English was the lingua franca. Because Pidgin is missing such possessive pronouns as “my,” “your” and “our,” it has a simple-but-effective linguistic structure to show ownership.

To designate who faces a problem, for example, the sentence structure would be: “Problem belong me.” Or “problem belong John.” I love the cadence. But speaking of problems, let me mention one closer to home.

When Adolf Hitler rose to power in Germany in 1933, the onlooking world soon saw disquieting signs that hinted at state-sponsored hatred toward certain groups, especially the Jews. Where was it heading?

When on November 9-10, 1938, mobs swarmed the streets, destroying some 7,500 Jewish places of business, vandalizing or torching 267 synagogues and killing 91 Jews, there was no longer any ambiguity concerning Nazi intentions.

But–and here’s what’s staggering–the atrocities of Nazi Germany weren’t committed by society’s riffraff. They were committed by educated, genteel, affluent, church-going, family-loving people who look just like you and I do. And that’s what should jolt us.

Some six million Jews were killed in the Holocaust that ensued, not including the Gypsies, homosexuals, handicapped and others the state wished to be rid of. Nor does it include the tens of millions killed as a result of World War II itself.

Jews believe we need to remember how this happened–because, as George Santayana said: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” So every year the Holocaust Center hosts a Kristallnacht Remembrance. This year it will be held at the Jewish Community Center (851 N. Maitland Ave., Maitland, FL 32751) at 4:00 pm on Sunday, November 4 (open to everyone; admission free).

I’m not Jewish. Nor is my wife. And the overwhelming majority of Central Floridians aren’t Jewish, either. So it would be easy for most of us to simply say, “Problem belong them.” But we’d be wrong. The reality is: “This problem belong everybody.”

Let’s take decisive steps to ensure that history doesn’t repeat itself. Jew and non-Jew alike need to be reminded of what can happen when run-of-the-mill humans succumb to propaganda and a message of hate.

I repeat: “This problem belong everybody.”

James Coffin is executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida.

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Speech: Why interfaith sharing is so beneficial 

By James Coffin

[The following is the script (only loosely followed) for a presentation made at the Multi-Faith Workshop conducted at the Hindu Society of Central Florida on November 4, 2012.]

Let me begin by expressing my deep appreciation to the New Age Group of the Hindu Society of Central Florida, to the Hindu University of America, to the Chinmaya Mission, to the Sikh Society of Central Florida and to any other organizations and individuals whose efforts have made this Multi-Faith Workshop possible. I believe that such gatherings, and the sharing that takes place at them, are vital for at least eight reasons:

ONE: Human affinity groups don’t naturally or automatically understand each other. And this is true whether we’re talking about race, ethnicity, culture, language, age, gender, religion and a long list of other identifiers that put us into readily defined and easily recognized categories. Conversations, such as we’re having here today, help us both to understand our differences and to discover our similarities.

TWO: Too often our perceptions of others–you know, those people who fall into the “them” category as opposed to the “us” category–too often these perceptions are based almost exclusively on rumor, myth and an array of second-hand, third-hand or fourth-hand information. This workshop gives us a first-hand look at who our religious neighbors really are and the prime values they hold dear.

THREE: Religious groups seem especially prone to comparing examples of their very best moments and very best situations with examples of the very worst moments and very worst situations of whatever other group or groups they’re comparing themselves to. It’s not too hard to guess which group is going to look better when comparing one religion’s modern, educated, affluent version, with some other group’s uneducated, poverty-stricken, highly disadvantaged version. The beauty of gatherings such as this is that we’re comparing apples with apples.

FOUR: In exchanges such as we’re having today, we’ll inevitably disagree on some points. Maybe even strongly disagree. And maybe on many points. However, almost always we’ll discover a surprising amount of common ground. We’ll find that many of our bottom-line values are the same–even if the beliefs from which those values spring are quite different. Such a revelation not only bonds us more closely to those we once thought were so different from us, it also affirms us in our own values–because we suddenly come to realize how universal they are.

FIVE: My father used to tell me that all who I meet are my superior in some way–and in that way, I can learn from them. Similarly, I believe that every faith tradition has something unique and vital to teach everyone–even those who already subscribe to another faith tradition. Events such as this introduce us to new perspectives and serve to broaden the perspectives we already hold. We go away as better, more well-rounded people.

SIX: We can never have too many friends. And events such as this help us realize that there’s no reason we shouldn’t all be friends. There’s no reason we shouldn’t be learning from, and sharing with, each other. Only when we move beyond labels, and get to know each other as flesh-and-blood human beings who are so much like us, do we discover a whole new realm for fruitful interaction that we may not have realized even existed.

SEVEN: Our respective faiths teach that every human is important, that every human is worthwhile, that every human deserves to be listened to and taken seriously. Gatherings such as this workshop provide opportunity for us to put that belief into practice in tangible ways. If our respective religions are worth anything, they should equip us to relate productively to the full spectrum of humanity, not just to those in our affinity groups. If religion itself creates barriers or causes us to treat others with less respect, it needs to be re-evaluated. Figuratively, today’s exchanges hold up a mirror before each of us, challenging our stereotypes, our prejudices and our blind spots.

EIGHT: People who know everything and have all the answers don’t need to come to events like this. Yet we have come. And by the very act of coming, we’re admitting the finiteness of our knowledge and our failure to consistently put into practice even what we already know. We admit that we still have much to learn about life, about human relationships and about interacting in the most effective, most harmonious, most rewarding way.

So, again, I want to say a big thank you to those who are making possible all of this and much more.

James Coffin is executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida.

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Reasonable citizen, ridiculous authorities? Or . . . 

By James Coffin

“Michael Salman, an Arizona resident who was jailed for 60 days for hosting a weekly Bible study in his home and on his private property, is set to appear in court . . . on charges that he violated his probation by continuing to hold Bible studies . . . after being ordered not to have more than 12 people gathered on his property at any one time, and that he failed to pay more than $10,000 in related fines” (Rutherford Institute news release, July 16, 2012).

Now I don’t know about you, but my immediate reaction upon hearing that someone has been arrested for conducting Bible studies on his own property is that it sounds like religious persecution. However, there are at least two sides to every story.

Since I don’t know all the details of Mr. Salman’s showdown with code-enforcement officials in Phoenix, I won’t argue about who’s right or wrong. Rather, I’d like to look at some basic principles.

Suppose I clean out my attic and then have a garage sale to get rid of the things I no longer want but that still could have some commercial value. For a few hours one weekend I set up tables in my drive and let treasure seekers paw through my trash.

Even though the covenants of my subdivision say the community is residential and not commercial, I’d think my neighbor was being extreme if he complained about my garage sale on that basis. And I think most people would agree.

On the other hand, if I discover how many treasure seekers love pawing through trash–and start having garage sales from Friday morning until Sunday evening every weekend–I think my neighbor would be justified in complaining.

I can understand why he wouldn’t like congested streets all weekend as people fight for parking spaces. I wouldn’t blame him for not wanting people forever turning around in his driveway. And I think most people would agree with his concern. It’s supposed to be a residential neighborhood, after all.

My point is this: In most disagreements with neighbors and/or authorities, there’s an extreme at which almost every onlooker would say, “That’s totally reasonable.” But there’s an opposite extreme at which almost every onlooker would say, “That’s ridiculous.” So it’s critical to have a sense of where “reasonable” ends and “ridiculous” begins–whether we’re talking garage sales or home-based Bible studies.

Neither the neighbors nor the authorities are likely to get bent out shape about two or three extra cars in someone’s driveway once a week for a Bible study. But, for purposes of our discussion here, let’s assume it grows to 20 or 30 cars each week. And singing. And sound amplification. And loud talking and laughter as people leave. And they stay until late at night. I can understand how the neighbors and the authorities might complain in that scenario.

I don’t know all the facts in Mr. Salman’s case. So it’s possible that he’s truly being persecuted by his neighbors and the Phoenix authorities. But it’s also not out of the realm of possibility that he’s flouting their legitimate concerns.

The U.S. Constitution seeks to protect the free exercise of religion. But it doesn’t say that religion automatically trumps every other consideration of law and community.

James Coffin is executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida.

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Sounding a sour note about combatting sugar

By James Coffin

Rarely have I been so supportive of a concern, yet so against the method being proposed to address it. New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg is completely right to be wrought-up about sugar.

As the title of a book written 40 years ago so aptly described it, sugar is Pure, White and Deadly. Americans consume way, way too much of it. And we’re paying the price for our indiscretion.

Diabetes is fast becoming a national crisis. Obesity is rampant. And the statistics are getting worse, not better. So it would seem that anything we can do to curb sugar intake should be welcomed with open arms. But effectively changing long-established behavioral norms is no simple undertaking.

First, there’s the practical/functional aspect to consider: What works? Will legislation effectively curb something so widespread–especially something that’s so uniformly viewed as every citizen’s right? Our national experiment with Prohibition suggests it won’t.

As the cliche goes: Forbidden fruit is sweet. When we tell people they can’t have something, they want it all the more. Few Americans–vendors or buyers–won’t bristle when told they can no longer make their own decisions concerning how big a container they can fill with soft drink.

Second, there’s the “goose and gander” issue. If I’m justified in seeking legislation to rein in your sugar consumption, why aren’t you justified in seeking government help to rein in my behaviors that you disapprove of? Soon we’ll have Big Brother lurking in every shadow.

Interestingly, most of the world’s religions recognize the integral relationship between mind, body and spirit. With few exceptions, religions call for balance: total abstinence from some things, moderation in others. Our disagreements tend to center around what behaviors call for total abstinence versus moderation.

Sugar consumption would seem to be an area where religion and science agree about the benefit of moderation. We need to pursue a course more conducive to overall well-being.

Clearly, sugar consumption–in a variety of forms, not just in soft drinks–has truly reached alarming proportions in the United States. But wouldn’t an all-out education and inspiration campaign be a lot better as both an initial and ongoing approach?

Such a campaign doesn’t have to be done in a guilt-tripping, you’re-a-second-class-citizen-if-you-don’t-conform manner. It can be factual. It can be memorable. It can be humorous–but without insulting anyone, of course. It can be creative.

Mayor Bloomberg is to be commended for standing up and being counted concerning a real problem with frightening long-term implications. I just think he could go about it in a more effective way.

James Coffin is executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida.

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Speech: Lest we forget

[Yom HaShoah–Holocaust Remembrance–speech, Orlando Jewish Community Center, April 15, 2012. ]

by James Coffin

The biblical book of Joshua contains a story that highlights the importance of not forgetting.

As the Hebrews prepared to enter the Promised Land, they still faced one major obstacle: The flooded Jordan River stood between them and their destination.

The Bible says that when, as an act of faith, the priests who were carrying the ark stepped into the swollen waters of the Jordan, the river upstream stopped flowing, and the river downstream flowed on. The entire camp of Israel walked through on the dry land thus created — much like an earlier generation of Hebrews had walked through the Red Sea.

Something so miraculous — something so out of the ordinary — deserved to be remembered. So God told Joshua to have a man from each tribe go back into the waterless river and pick up a large stone from the riverbed. The stones would be used to build a monument where they camped that night.

“In the future,” Joshua told the men, “when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant. . . . These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.”

Subsequent generations needed to remember the crossing of the Jordan because it was so wonderful. But at times, terrible events also need to be remembered. Precisely because they were so terrible.

When we cease to remember — when we forget the level to which ordinary human beings are capable of stooping — history is in grave danger of being repeated. All it will take is for the right circumstances to exist. This has been demonstrated in several genocides even since the Holocaust.

There are times to celebrate the wonderful things of the past. And there are times to solemnly remember the bad. It’s appropriate that today we’ve come to together to solemnly remember.

I commend the organizers of this event and the organizers of similar events in years past. I commend those who will organize such events in the far-distant future. Without these reminders, our children will never ask, “What is the meaning of this memorial?”

If at some point in the future we fail to provide appropriate reminders, and if, in the absence of those reminders, our children no longer seek explanations and understanding, then the stage is being set for a tragic chapter of history to be re-enacted.

We all owe a debt of gratitude to the Jewish community for working so tirelessly to ensure that never happens.

James Coffin is executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida.

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Speech: Turning darkness into light

[Presented at the annual MLK interfaith and multicultural service, at Shiloh Baptist Church in Orlando, following a candlelight vigil and march from City Hall, January 15, 2012.]

By James Coffin

The theme I’ve been invited to address tonight is “Turning Darkness into Light.” Those words come from a sermon of the early 1960s by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, the man whose legacy we’ve come to celebrate.

The United States of America is a different place, a better place, a place of more light and less darkness because of Dr. King’s vision, his wisdom, his example and his tenacity.

Although huge strides have been made in the right direction, darkness still exists, greater light is still needed, and we must forever remain vigilant, for darkness ever seeks to reassert itself.

It can happen at any time. It can happen in any context. And it can happen in a variety of subtle and not-so-subtle ways.

But first, a little history so we fully appreciate just how needed Dr. King’s civil-rights activism was.

Scarcely had the New World been discovered than it became blighted by forced servitude. “Forced servitude” is simply a softer, less unsettling, more genteel way of saying slavery.

The grim reality is that during a period of some 300 years, an estimated 12 million Africans were captured, put in chains, thrown into the hold of some ship and transported across the Atlantic against their will. Those who actually survived the trans-Atlantic voyage–and many didn’t–were sold as slaves.

Some human master in North America, South America, Inter-America or the Caribbean took total control of their lives once these human commodities arrived in the New World. And once here, most of them would remain in slavery for the rest of their lives.

Why did this happen? Greed. Greed on the part of the slave-ship captains. Greed on the part of the African raiders who captured and sold their fellow Africans. Greed on the part of those who saw slave labor as the easiest way to ensure low prices and thus a ready market for slave-produced materials.

Fortunately, there has always been at least a small cadre of people deeply committed to turning darkness into light. During the first few decades of the 19th century, an unlikely assortment of activists stood up and were counted. They had the courage to point their finger at slavery and call it the social and moral evil that it indeed was.

Some went even further, poking their finger in the eye of this vile institution through acts of civil disobedience. The Underground Railroad helped thousands of slaves escape to Canada. Other activists boldly spoke up in churches, in town halls, in legislative assemblies.

Finally, in the midst of a war that had at its core the issue of slavery, President Abraham Lincoln issued his famous Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863. And in December 1865, the Thirteenth Amendment ended slavery once and for all as an institution in the United States.

Darkness was being turned into light. But when darkness is so all-pervasive, it doesn’t instantly morph into the brightness of mid-day. The ripples emanating from more than three centuries of slavery didn’t magically smooth out just because the gates of slavery’s prison were suddenly thrown open.

Turning darkness into light didn’t happen overnight–nor does it ever. When for generation after generation a group has lived as slaves, have been treated as slaves, have viewed themselves as slaves, their image doesn’t transform instantly just because of a Presidential decree or a Constitutional Amendment.

To a great degree the self-image of these recently freed people didn’t change. Why? Because the view of onlookers didn’t change. True, they were now ex-slaves–but slave was still the prime component of their new title.

Turning darkness into light is a slow and often painful process.

The change of title didn’t change many of the realities they faced. So began decades of struggle that included lynchings and Jim Crow laws, benign neglect and overt hostility.

As darkness slowly continued to turn into light, some of the most abhorrent abuses slipped from center stage. But vestiges of evil still lurked in the shadows. “Separate but equal” became the euphemism of the day. But it was lie. The races were indeed separate–that was undebatable; but they were anything but equal.

It was into this social milieu that I was born in Central Missouri at the beginning of the 1950s. Of course, I was only an observer. I wasn’t directly affected by all that had gone on and all that was still a reality for those who were directly affected.

I retain two vivid racial memories from my early years. I remember being at the county fair and badly needing the benefit of a restroom. Despite the urgency of my situation, I was told I couldn’t go into the restroom we were walking past because it was for “colored people.” A few minutes later I was told I couldn’t drink from a perfectly good drinking fountain because it too was for colored people.

Even though I was only four at the time, I was a quick learner. Based on my vast experience, it was quite clear: Colored people got all the breaks!
Tragically, many of us who are essentially unaffected by social injustice base our opinions on reasoning as flimsy as my assumption that colored people got all the breaks!

A couple of years later, I remember overhearing deeply concerned adult conversations about the local school’s decision to “integrate.” I didn’t understand it at the time, but I was witnessing the outgrowth of the landmark Supreme Court decision Brown v. Board of Education (1954).

That decision was another major step in turning darkness into light.

For years after our town’s schools integrated, we regularly drove past the boarded-up school that had once served the region’s black children. The abandoned school sat grimly next to the railroad track, where it always had been, in the shadow and dust of a concrete-mixing plant.

Many of our white neighbors considered my family’s level of interaction with people of color to be rather scandalous. We were trailblazers. My father frequently employed “Negroes,” as we often referred to those of African heritage.

Farm-worker etiquette called for field laborers to be given the noon meal. To the discomfort of some onlookers, we always invited any black who happened to be working for us to eat at our table with us.

We also allowed blacks to hunt on our farm. And they turned up in large numbers. Many drove all the way from St. Louis, 120 miles away, because it was that difficult for black hunters to find farms where they were welcome to hunt.

But our moral enlightenment went only so far–because darkness is pervasive; because darkness isn’t easily turned into light; because old patterns of behavior are hard to break even when the mind is starting to move forward.

Despite the fact that we considered ourselves more enlightened than many of our openly bigoted neighbors, we had a lot to learn. We had a lot of growing to do. You see, we still laughed uproariously at racist jokes. Our conversations were still laced with racist epithets. And, to be honest, it wasn’t all done in ignorance. We knew better. Why else would we try to rein in such talk when actually in the presence of those being thus labeled?

Over the years I’ve had to eliminate a lot of derogatory vocabulary and refrain from repeating a lot of demeaning jokes. And not just about race. But about ethnic groups that are low on the pecking order. About women. About any who are easy to make fun of because they’re different from the majority or the powerful.

I’ve made a lot of progress. Light has slowly displaced darkness. But I have no doubt that the process of true openness, of true understanding, of true sensitivity, still isn’t complete in me. And I doubt that I’m alone. Darkness doesn’t easily give way to light. It seeks shelter in any nook or cranny of our being that appears willing to tolerate its presence.

I remember the whispered concerns when, after passage of the Lyndon Johnson-inspired Civil Rights Acts of 1964, the first black student was admitted to the private high school I later attended. I remember the race riots of the 1960s. I remember Martin Luther King’s call for non-violent civil disobedience in the struggle for basic racial fairness. I remember his “I Have a Dream” speech. I remember the impact of his assassination.

In fact, I could cite a long list of national milestones, Martin Luther King actions and my own personal experiences that have left indelible impressions on me. And I repeat: I was just an observer. It didn’t have the same significance to me that it had for those whose lives were daily controlled by these injustices.

It was through these lenses of experience that three years ago I watched our current U.S. President acknowledge not only that he’d won a hard-fought political contest, but that our nation had indeed achieved a major milestone.

Much of the progress we’ve made in the past came about only because a relative handful of far-sighted legislators or judges told us that, like it or not, we had to clean up our act in certain areas––or else. But never in the course of our nation’s civil-rights struggle has such a large segment of the white population made such an emphatic statement that they’re willing to look at something other than a person’s skin color.

Oh, not for moment am i suggesting that we’ve arrived. Bigotry of all sorts still exists. And it can run in many directions. And whatever direction it runs, it needs to be made to feel unwelcome.

To his great credit, Martin Luther King fought injustice wherever he encountered it. Certainly he understood the glaring needs of his black brothers and sister, and he worked doggedly on their behalf. But he likewise recognized the plight–and sought to correct it–of others who were downtrodden and disadvantaged.

Martin Luther King saw the plight of the white poor as well as the black poor. He saw the second-class status of white women as well as black women. He saw the havoc wreaked by the Vietnam War–not only on black soldiers but on white soldiers as well.

One of the things that made Dr. King such a great man and such a great leader was that he refused to leave any in the darkness of discrimination and disdain if he had the even the slightest chance of bringing to them the light of hope.

I highlight these admirable characteristics not to in any way detract from Dr. King’s fight on behalf of those who shared his heritage, but to show the breadth of the man–a man who wasn’t willing to have any suffer unnecessarily. A man who wanted liberty and justice for all.

Not only did Dr. King see the far-reaching, all-pervasive nature of the darkness of discrimination, he also saw that violence–though the most natural reaction to such injustice and oppression–wasn’t the most effective way to fight evil in the long run. It was the wrong approach at a moral level. And it was the wrong approach at a practical level.

In his sermon “Loving Your Enemies,” printed in his 1963 book, Strength to Love, Dr. King says in his inimitable style:

“Returning hate for hate multiplies hate,
adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.
Darkness cannot drive out darkness:
only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate:
only love can do that.
Hate multiplies hate,
violence multiplies violence,
and toughness multiplies toughness
in a descending spiral of destruction . . . .”

Were Dr. King alive today, I think he’d be heartened by the progress made–and I think he’d be appalled at the ground still to be covered on a variety of fronts.

The disparity between rich and poor is no less pronounced today than it was in his day.

We’re just as willing to resort to war as when he was alive.

Many minorities still face prejudice and disadvantage–be they racial, or ethnic, or religious.

We still have a pecking order, whether we’re students in school or adults in the workforce.

In other words, we still have a lot of ground to cover before darkness will have been dispelled by light and before Martin Luther King’s dream of a just society will truly be a reality.

Dr. King had a dream–a dream he didn’t just talk about, but a dream he sought to actually do something about. Our challenge today is to keep the dream alive–not just in our minds but in our actions. Our challenge is ensure that darkness continues to be turned into light.

James Coffin is executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida.

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Speech: Singing to celebrate, singing to survive

[Presented at Mount Zion Missionary Baptist Church in Orlando, Florida, on January 13, 2012, as part of a Martin Luther King Holiday celebration featuring the singers of the "Negro Spiritual" Scholarship Foundation.]

By James Coffin

It’s more than appropriate that as we honor the life and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, we use music as the means of showing our appreciation for what he achieved. But the music we’re so enjoying tonight also serves as a reminder of the challenges we still face.

Throughout human history, music has played a crucial role as the downtrodden and disadvantaged have sought deliverance from their plight. Music kept the spark of optimism alive as slaves went about their daily tasks of forced servitude. Music likewise buoyed the spirits of African-Americans in a post-slavery United States, where the promise of justice and fairness and equity tantalized but was rarely realized.

Not only is music the appropriate vehicle for tonight’s celebration, but the specific music that’s being featured is especially appropriate because it was out of both slavery and the post-slavery experience that the “Negro Spiritual” was born.

At times the singing of spirituals was merely to survive. At times it was to celebrate. But rarely did the singing celebrate a reality already achieved. More often than not, the song was about a better land and a better life that could be seen only through the eye of faith. But whatever the purpose of the singing, it raised the spirits, gave hope and bonded the community together. Throughout recorded Judeo-Christian history, crisis and deliverance have often been associated with music.

When an absolutely overwhelming enemy force was invading Judah, good king Jehosophat appointed a special group of men to march in front of his army. Were these men great swordsmen or javelin throwers or sling-shot marksmen? No. They were singers! And they sang: “Give thanks to the LORD, for his love endures forever.”

Imagine that! The choir marching ahead of the infantry! That’s about as extreme an example as we’ll ever find of celebrating something that can be seen only through the eye of faith! Yet the Bible declares: “As they began to sing and praise, the LORD set ambushes against the men of Ammon and Moab and Mount Seir . . . .” And the invaders were defeated!

Some three thousand years later, when Dr. King marched arm in arm with other stalwarts in the cause of civil rights, when they faced guard dogs and fire hoses and  riot-police squadrons–and they did it while singing about the changes that, by God’s grace, they hoped would soon become reality–the heart of many an onlooker was changed. Many a closed and stubborn mind was opened to a new understanding of the brotherhood and sisterhood of all humanity.

When two very famous early-Christian preachers were arrested, beaten and thrown into prison, they sang. The Bible says: “About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the other prisoners were listening to them.” Note that last clause: And the other prisoners were listening to them.

Fast-forward two millennia. James Farmer, a participant in the 1961 Freedom Ride, tells how a voice called out in the jail where they were being held: ‘‘Sing your freedom song.” Farmer continues: “We sang old folk songs and gospel songs to which new words had been written, telling of the Freedom Ride and its purpose.’’ He then describes how the female freedom riders in another wing of the jail joined in. ‘‘And for the first time in history,” Farmer says, “the Hinds County jail rocked with unrestrained singing of songs about Freedom and Brotherhood.”

Singing, particularly in times of extremity, makes an impact on onlookers. It did in New Testament times. It did in the 1960s. And it still does today. It shows a calmness of spirit. A certainty in the righteousness of one’s cause. An absolute fearlessness.

In the early 1960s Dr. King said concerning the role of music: ‘‘The freedom songs are playing a strong and vital role in our struggle. They give the people new courage and a sense of unity, . . . particularly in our most trying hours.’’ Music creates hope even when hope is all but dead. And hope achieves great things. Dr. King understood that fact.

In the conclusion of his 1963 “I Have a Dream” speech, Dr. King proclaimed in powerful cadences: “When we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, “Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”

That’s the essence of what we celebrate tonight through music.

James Coffin is executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida.

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Supreme Court decision could harm religion

By James Coffin

Religious leaders from nearly every major faith tradition rejoiced over the unanimous Supreme Court decision in the case of Hosanna-Tabor Evangelical Lutheran Church and School v. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission et al, handed down on January 11, 2012.

The court’s decision–which some observers say is the most significant religious-liberty decision in two decades–grants religious entities greater freedom from judicial oversight in dealing with employees who play some form of “minister” role.

“For the Adventist Church in the U.S., this means courts will not be second-guessing the hiring and firing of our pastors and teachers,” says Todd McFarland of the Office of General Counsel at the Seventh-day Adventist Church’s world headquarters.

But the rejoicing may be premature and overly enthusiastic. In fact, the Supreme Court’s decision could actually work to the disadvantage of religious entities long-term.

To begin with, the decision isn’t as far-reaching as attorney McFarland implies. The case’s syllabus (an official synopsis of the decision) states clearly: “Today the Court holds only that the ministerial exception bars an employment discrimination suit brought on behalf of a minister . . . . The Court expresses no view on whether the exception bars other types of suits” (emphasis mine).

But because the decision was unanimous, and because it has been heralded as such a landmark victory for religious liberty, religious entities risk presuming too much and becoming high-handed in how they treat their “ministers.” Such a response could actually increase the number of suits filed against religious entities.

Though the court ruled broadly concerning which employees can be considered “ministers,” it ruled narrowly about how much religious entities are free to ignore otherwise-applicable laws. Only discrimination laws were addressed in this case.

In a posting on the website of the Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty, Christian educator Don Byrd sounds this caution: “The freedom to make certain employment decisions without government interference leaves intact the moral obligation to act honorably, to treat employees honestly, and to make religious decisions based upon true religious beliefs. Support for a broad definition of the ministerial exception should not imply support for a broad license to discriminate with impunity.”

No one wants the government dictating to religion about who its leaders must be. But when religion’s employees don’t have the protection afforded by a labor union, when in some situations they’re forbidden (as an article of faith) from seeking redress in the courts, and when the courts have made it clear that the “ministerial exception” includes far more employees than just rabbis, pastors, imams and other similarly recognized spiritual leaders, many employees of religious entities effectively have no court of appeal in employment disputes. Thus it’s incumbent on religions to cross every “t” and dot every “i” of proper protocol and general fairness in dealing with their employees.

Religious entities in general, though at one time placed on a pedestal by the rank and file, have squandered a large amount of goodwill in recent years. Organized religion doesn’t have a consistent track record of treating others as they’d like to be treated. The Golden Rule is too often lost sight of. As a result, according to the American Religious Identification Survey, the so-called “Nones” (no religious affiliation) are the fastest-growing religious status. That should be sobering to all religious people, especially religious leaders.

The real danger for those of us in the business of religion is that we’ll forget that winning a Supreme Court victory isn’t the same as winning in the court of public opinion. In the court of public opinion, favorable rulings come when religious entities are perceived to consistently deliver fair and principled treatment to all employees, to all adherents and to the general public.

That’s where the winning really counts.

James Coffin, a retired pastor, is executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida.

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Speech: Seeing through different lenses

[Presented at an Interfaith Council dinner hosted by Alan and Kelly Ginsburg on October 22, 2011, about ten days before James Coffin assumed his role as executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida.]

By James Coffin

It’s a pleasure to be with you this evening. Although I already know many of you, I’m looking forward to becoming acquainted with those I don’t yet know. I’m excited about the possibilities of working with each of you as we seek to create a better community through greater cooperation between the various faith traditions present here in the Orlando area. The potential of an organization such as the Interfaith Council of Central Florida is immense. And I hope that over the upcoming months and years we’ll see concrete evidence of just how truly great that potential really is.

Now let me talk for a just a few moments about my own experience, because I believe that my life journey may be quite typical of many in our community.

Like most of the youngsters in the farming community in Central Missouri where I was reared, I just assumed that the way my family did things was the only truly logical, intelligent, socially and spiritually valid way to do them. Those who weren’t like us were definitely misguided. Benighted, actually. They had little if anything to teach us–because we already had all the answers! We were right; they were wrong. It was really very simple. And this type of thinking applied to all who were different from me–whether those differences were racial, ethnic, linguistic, political, spiritual, you name it. We even took it for granted that God’s native language was English–and he spoke it with a Midwestern accent!

Having been born into a strongly Republican home, I remember trying to get my young mind around the fact that our neighbors down the road were Democrats–and not just Democrats but totally out-in-the-open, unapologetic, unrepentant Democrats! They were so proud of their party affiliation that they’d flaunt it by putting signs in their yard advertising Democratic candidates! They had no shame! As if that weren’t bad enough, they were Catholic Democrats. Need I say more?

But the picture was even worse than I’m suggesting, because the Catholic Democrat problem went far beyond the road we lived on. It affected the entire nation. In 1962, when I was 11 years old, John F. Kennedy was President–Democrat . . . and Catholic. Mike Mansfield was Senate Majority leader–Democrat . . . and Catholic. And John McCormack was Speaker of the House–and you’ve guessed it–Democrat . . . and Catholic. Now before you panic because this appears to be an anti-Democrat, anti-Catholic speech, let me assure you that I’m headed somewhere with this. And it all has to do with how one simple, brief encounter dramatically changed my outlook on both Democrats and Catholics.

However, before telling that story, allow me to take a momentary detour here. In terms of faith traditions, the U.S. farming belt, where I grew up, had Catholics and Protestants. Catholics were anathema–that was a given, granted that I was a Protestant. And any Protestant denomination other than my own was suspect. None of the other religious traditions currently represented by the Interfaith Council even appeared on my radar screen.

I remember when I was about ten years old going the 120 miles to St. Louis with my father to pick up a truckload of lumber. As we drove away with our load, he casually mentioned that the men who ran the lumber business were Jewish. I wished he’d told me ahead of time. I would have checked them out more carefully. Here I’d seen my first Jews and hadn’t even had a chance to really look them over to see the differences! Coming from such an environment meant that I was into my early twenties before ever seeing a Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu or Sikh.

Of course, most young people today don’t live as isolated a life as I did. Their world is dramatically more cosmopolitan. But do they actually “see” those around them who come from different cultures and different faith traditions? Or do they just see a stereotype and think that they see and know?

Fortunately, my horizons have expanded beyond the farming community of Central Missouri. After spending 14 years of my adult life outside the United States–in Mexico, England and Australia–and having traveled extensively in addition, I’ve come to appreciate and embrace the very diversity I once so greatly feared.

But back to my story describing my early-life concerns about Democrats and Catholics.

During my senior year in high school, I entered a speech contest sponsored by the Veterans of Foreign Wars (the VFW). I won for the entire State of Missouri and went to Washington, D.C., to compete in the national finals–where, I’m sorry to report, I didn’t win. But I spent five exciting days there in what was truly a defining experience of my life. The nation’s capital was definitely a different world from what I was used to back on the farm.

The last night of my stay, the VFW hosted a banquet, which was attended by a huge array of political dignitaries–including Richard Nixon. The White House photographer took a picture of President Nixon and me shaking hands–and I still have that picture hanging in my office. It was a privilege indeed to be photographed with the President of the United States. I mean, after all, Richard Nixon was a Republican! And a Protestant! That guaranteed that he was a good man! But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Before the banquet, the VFW hosted a little reception to which they invited the senators from each state and the representative from the Congressional District from which that state’s speech winner had come. The reception was a little overwhelming for a Missouri farm boy, so I sat on the sidelines and just watched.

As I sat there, a gray-haired, balding man slipped into the seat next to me. Putting out his hand, he said, “My name’s Mike. What’s yours?” When I told him, he said in a friendly and truly interested way, “Well, tell me about yourself, Jim.” Then he proceeded to ask questions about my interests, my life experiences, my opinions. For the next five minutes, he gave me his full and undivided attention, treating me as if I were the most interesting and most important person in the world. Then he shook my hand again, encouraged me to follow my dreams, and moved on to talk to one of the other high-school students.

“Was that man who I think he was?” I asked one of the VFW hosts at the event.

“Well,” he said, “if you were thinking he was Senate Majority Leader Mike Mansfield, you’d be right.”

I sat back down in an out-of-the-way chair, dumfounded. Mike Mansfield, U.S. Senate Majority Leader, had taken time to talk to me–a mere high-school student, a farm boy from out in nowhere in Missouri. He had made me feel like the most important person in the world. In a mere five minutes he had made me feel that he really did want me to be a success in life. And in the process, he gave me a memory and a psychological boost that has stuck in my mind ever since. And–get this!–he was both a Democrat and a Catholic!

Now I haven’t become a Catholic as a result of that encounter. And I don’t think it prudent to tell you whether or not I’ve become a Democrat. I’ll leave you guessing on that one. But I can assure you categorically that the labels of both “Democrat” and “Catholic” took on totally new meaning for me after just five minutes with a man whose way of living life was a great tribute to both labels.

My story illustrates, I believe, why the Interfaith Council of Central Florida has such great potential. If we can help people in our faith communities and in the general populace to have that kind of encounter with others who may for a lifetime have been total strangers to them, if we can help people see beyond the stereotypes to the real people who make up the spiritual groups in our community, if we can foster friendships and deeper understanding between people whose faith traditions are so diverse, barriers will come down, friendships will develop, a whole new appreciation will ensue, and great things can be achieved as we work together cooperatively and unitedly.

Oh, I can guarantee that we’ll still disagree about a huge array of belief and practice. But we can disagree in a context of respect and understanding. I can equally assure you that we won’t just disagree. We’ll also discover emphases and practices that we’ll come to admire in the faith traditions of others–even though we’ll continue to differ on many of the philosophical and theological underpinnings. I can assure you that when we truly get to know each other, we’ll discover far more points of agreement than we would have thought possible. Our shared humanity, our common status as children of our Divine Creator, will give us a bond that’s more basic and more important than our many differences.

Somewhere along life’s journey, I came across a statement that I’ve tried to keep in mind in all my human interactions. It goes something like this: “All the people I meet are superior to me in some way, and in that way, I can learn from them.”

I’m not Jewish–but I can learn from the centuries of careful thought the rabbis have dedicated to defining morality and ethics. I’m not Muslim–but I can learn from the Muslims the importance of communion with God–not just every day but throughout every day. I’m not Buddhist–but I can gain from the Buddhists an appreciation of the need to control emotion and live peaceably with my fellow humans and with nature. I’m not Hindu–but from the Hindus I can gain a deeper understanding the interconnected, holistic nature of all that God has created. I’m not Sikh–but from the Sikhs I can gain much-needed impetus to work for fairness and equality for all people. Of course, as a Christian, I would hope that the groups I’ve just referred to would likewise find in Christianity certain emphases that can enrich lives.

Gaining spiritual insights from others, treating others with respect and working with others for community betterment doesn’t mean we abandon our own faith. Or that we water it down. Or that our disagreements will disappear. After all, many of our dogmas are mutually exclusive. We can’t all be right. But we can all seek to be good neighbors. We can respect each other while agreeing to disagree. And in the process, we’ll gain more than we expected.

When we can sit around a common table, when we recognize both the existence of our flaws and the richness of our spiritual traditions and values, then can we join hands as fellow travelers on life’s road to effectively work for the betterment of society as a whole.

That’s what the Interfaith Council is all about. And that’s why we so deeply appreciate the effort the Ginsburgs have put forth to host this gathering as we take an even stronger hold on trying to make a difference in our community. That’s why we so appreciate the financial backing and encouragement that has been given by the Ginsburg Family Foundation, the Florida Hospital Foundation, various religious entities and individuals. That’s why we so appreciate your making the effort to be here tonight. And thanks to each of you for your input and support as we move forward to make Central Florida a better, more respectful, more caring community.

James Coffin assumed his role as executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida just a few days after he gave the foregoing speech.

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Would Jesus use BCE-CE?

By James Coffin

Many British Christians are “incensed” and “outraged” because the BBC has discarded the historical date references BC and AD in favor of BCE and CE. And the British aren’t the first Christians to be upset by such changes to how we designate dates.

As a Christian clergyman, I understand the jolt that comes when religious symbols near and dear to my faith tradition cease to be dominant. Often my reaction, like that of the British Christians, is to become defensive. However, there may be another way to look at it.

Let’s suppose, hypothetically, that some other religious figure—one we’ll just make up—totally eclipsed Jesus in terms of historical impact. And, like Jesus, that figure claimed to be God in the flesh, actually allowing himself to be called God. This God person so left his mark on history that thereafter all dates bore a designation of BG (Before God) or AG (After God).

Keep with me now: This is purely hypothetical!

Since I’m a Christian, I definitely wouldn’t believe in the divinity of this great historic figure called God–no matter how impressive he might have been. Call himself what he may, I refuse to call him God. A wise man? Maybe. An important historic figure? No question. But God? Not from my perspective.

Now here’s the rub in this hypothetical situation: I would feel I was betraying my Christian faith if every time I wrote a paper for history class I had to date events by saying they happened BG (Before God) or AG (After God), when I don’t believe the person being referred to was God.

Stop the hypothetical. Return to reality.

I’m a Christian. BC (before Christ) and AD (Anno Domini–the year of our Lord) work perfectly for me. But I understand how non-Christians (whether adherents of another faith or of no faith) might be hesitant to say or write: “This happened x number of years before the coming of ‘Christ’”—when they don’t believe Jesus was the Christ. And I understand how those same people might feel uncomfortable (if not blasphemous) when saying, “This happened ‘in the year of our Lord x’”—when Jesus isn’t their Lord.

So we have the BCE-CE compromise (Before the Common Era; Common Era). We still use Jesus as the reference point—which in itself is no small tribute to his impact on our world. But it no longer places non-Christians in the awkward position of having to use terms that imply a belief or an allegiance they don’t have.

Rather than an abandonment of my Christian faith, I see the compromise as a practical demonstration of a crucial Christian value–the Golden Rule. I see it as an act of graciousness. Christlikeness.

Which tells you which letters I think Jesus would use.

James Coffin wrote the foregoing in October 2011 shortly before assuming his role as executive director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida. 

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Casey’s verdict: how you and I won

By James Coffin

After the Casey Anthony verdict, defense attorney Jose Baez said there were no winners. I disagree. “We the people” were the winners.

Contrary to the feelings of many–especially television’s most vociferous “talking heads”–the verdict was not an example of courts run amok. Rather, it was our nation’s jury system at peak performance. Why?

We asked 12 ordinary citizens to assess a body of facts concerning the death of a child and the role Casey Anthony might have played. We told the jury that if the facts presented didn’t convince them of her guilt “beyond reasonable doubt,” they must acquit. They assessed the facts. They deemed them to fall short of the prescribed standard. They obeyed the instructions.

They weren’t voting for Casey Anthony to be granted sainthood or declared citizen of the year. They weren’t saying they believed she bore no guilt. They weren’t even saying she wasn’t guilty of every charge against her. They simply said the facts presented weren’t adequate to establish guilt beyond reasonable doubt.

Their decision is a tribute to our jury system precisely because it so ignored human emotions. Precisely because it so overlooked the public’s understandable repugnance toward the accused. Precisely because they based their decision on something more fundamental than the fact that Casey Anthony makes Pinocchio seem honest.

Twelve people listened carefully to the judge’s instructions. They followed the law. They put aside personal feelings about all the negatives so evident in Casey Anthony and declared: In the absence of other essential facts, what we’ve been presented isn’t enough to establish beyond reasonable doubt that she murdered her daughter.

Our founding fathers would have been proud. They were champions of due process. They’d seen it denied too many times, whether by tyrannical rulers or mobs. They grasped the big picture. They’d bought into the idea that it’s better to set the standard so high that we risk letting a few of the guilty go free rather than to punish an innocent person.

As individuals, we understandably chafe because someone our gut tells us is guilty has avoided what we consider appropriate retribution. But the fact that 12 people went against their gut to ensure due process bodes well for all of us as a nation.

In the short term, we might not like the verdict. But were the tables turned, were we ever accused of a crime where the evidence makes us look guilty no matter how innocent we might be, we’d want to know that the 12 ordinary citizens deciding our fate would be as committed to the beyond-reasonable-doubt standard as Casey Anthony’s jury was.

James Coffin, currently director of the Interfaith Council of Central Florida, wrote this shortly after the Casey Anthony verdict in July 2011.