Methodist Values
Atticus Finch (Gregory Peck) defends Tom Robinson (Brock Peters) against a charge of rape in the film version of Harper Lee's classic novel, "To Kill a Mockingbird." (Wikimedia Commons Photo/Public Domain)
My aunt Bobbie gave me the book. It was an early edition hardback with the original dust jacket. It smelled old, and I loved it. From the first time I read ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’ and saw the movie, I wanted to be Atticus Finch. I saw myself defending the innocent, the marginalized, and the persecuted. God willing, I would have the courage to confront hate and ignorance head-on.
I didn’t know that instead of a courtroom, I’d be standing in churches and pulpits from North Carolina to Belfast and Moscow to Bishkek. I became a United Methodist minister. Instead of being a single parent to Jem and Scout, I am a stepfather to three wonderful daughters. I still admire the character of the single-parent father and lawyer working for the wrongfully accused black man in Jim Crow-era Alabama. I look up to Atticus Finch.
Atticus Finch, Harper Lee tells us, attends the local Methodist church in Maycomb, Alabama. His virtues of fairness, justice, and love of his neighbor probably took root in the Methodist Episcopal Church where he and his children Jem and Scout worshiped.
I wasn’t called to the bar, but I was called.
Maybe I was looking at this all wrong. One didn’t need to be a lawyer or a single parent in Depression-era Alabama to be like Atticus Finch. In the pages of "To Kill A Mockingbird," the law Atticus practices in court is not what he learned in law school. Instead, it is the justice he was taught in Methodist Sunday School. Atticus learned the Beatitudes, the Parable of the Prodigal Son, and the story of a lawyer who wanted to know the most significant law he was required to follow. Atticus Finch knew these stories. He lives them out in the pages of the novel. They’re as stark as the divide between Maycomb’s black and white communities. I was standing in a Methodist Church. Maybe I wasn’t as far away from Atticus as I thought.
To Kill a Mockingbird Cover
Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain Photo
The world is replete with inequality, the wrongfully accused, victims of racism, and persecuted people robbed of their ability to speak. I realized these same issues could be addressed from a pulpit, beyond the church’s walls, and done in the tradition of the one who first told the stories. Atticus wasn’t confined to a book or a black-and-white movie. Doing the right thing, with dignity and class, despite the pressure to back down and go along, that’s the Atticus move. I could muster up some dignity and even a little class with some work.
Doing anything in the name of the church is fraught with complications. There is a long history of the church doing bad things in God’s name. God had nothing to do with these horrendous episodes in human history. People with entirely selfish motivations justified too many tragedies in God’s name. When the church acts in the spirit and tradition of Jesus (and his stories), the possibility for change, whether among individuals or a society, becomes possible. Stories change lives. Stories enable people to relate to one another as people with common interests, bonds, and lives. It’s hard to hate a neighbor whom you’ve met, eaten with, and who has kids who’ve played with your kids. It’s easy to despise people you don’t know and live behind walls of ignorance and isolation. Jesus’ stories are about these very ideas: learning about, trusting, and loving your neighbor. Suspicion breeds hate, grows fear, and leads to death. This is the heart of Atticus’ defense of Tom Robinson. This is also the message of Jesus of Nazareth.
On Father’s Day, here’s my message: anyone can be like Atticus Finch. You don’t need a courtroom or a sanctuary to stand up for the people who need an advocate. That, whether you’re a single parent, parent, stepdad, or role model of any kind, is, perhaps, the best gift we can leave our children.