Byron Borger of Hearts & Minds says, ‘There’s power in telling these stories!’

An enthusiastic new review of Jeffrey Munroe’s ‘Telling Stories in the Dark’

Click on the cover to visit the book’s Amazon page.

THIS WEEK, we’re bringing you a video book review of Jeffrey Munroe’s new Telling Stories in the Darka review in a video podcast with Hearts & Minds bookseller Byron Borger.

You can learn more about Byron’s bookstore at his website, HeartsAndMindsBooks.com

Recently, Byron appeared on this podcast, hosted by CCO campus ministry network, offering reviews of a number of books that Byron is currently recommending.

Byron starts his list with an enthusiastic review of Jeff’s new book, so we have “set” the YouTube video below to begin with that review. (If you care to see the entire video, which includes about 2 minutes of introductory material, simply reset the video “slider” to the beginning.)

About Jeff’s book, Byron says in part: “There’s power in telling these stories—and I’m not kidding you! This book is moving!

“And, here’s what’s interesting: Jeffrey Munroe not only tells and narrates each story, which itself would be worth reading. But then, in the second part of every chapter, he brings another person into the conversation: a therapist, a pastor, a clinician, a theologian.

“He brings somebody in and he says, ‘As I’ve told this person’s story, what do you see happening here?’ And then that other person who he’s interviewing … helps evaluate what was going on in that story of trauma. So you’re getting not only a moving story of somebody who went through hard times and coped with it—but then you’re getting an expert … who then evaluates the story and brings some insight. …

“So, it’s not ony the story that’s told but it’s also the evaluation that Jeff does when he engages these experts … And he has lots of good people in here! … And that’s what makes this book shine compared with other books of this kind.”

See Byron’s review of Jeffrey Munroe’s new book

Here’s the YouTube video:

We clearly have questions about the ‘Nones’ among us. MSU Bias Busters have the answers!

Click the cover to visit the book’s Amazon page.

By JOE GRIMM
Head of the MSU Bias Busters project

Whew! Our team of Michigan State University School of Journalism students—known as the Bias Busters—produced our latest book just in time!

For weeks now, journalists and religious leaders have been running in every direction after the latest reports on the number of religiously unaffiliated Americans.

The same new Pew research data is being described in seemingly opposite ways. Headlines have included:

Fox: Religious ‘nones’ decline for first time since 2016, Pew study finds

NPR: Religious ‘Nones’ are now the largest single group in the U.S.

Nether headline is wrong.

While the proportion of religiously unaffiliated people in the U.S. population has declined slightly, other groups, notably Christians and Catholics, declined more. So, everybody wins— or loses.

Reactions within Christian religions to bringing people into churches varied as much as the headlines.

In The Baptist Paper in Alabama, Mark MacDonald wrote, “As believers, we need to decide if we try to reach this unchurched group, who are ‘characterized as morally directionless,’ or shake our heads and not even attempt the challenge. I would argue the question is not ‘if’ but ‘how.’ Remember, nones are not all the same, but they all need Jesus.”

MacDonald is executive director of the Center for Church Communication. He is also a speaker, consultant, author, church branding strategist for BeKnownforSomething.com. MacDonald proposes building bridges with community-helping ministries, sharing stories, leveraging social media, extending inclusive invitations and demonstrating relevance to daily life.

Michael Pakaluk, a social research and business professor at the Catholic University of America, took a harder line in an interview with the Catholic News Agency. He told CNA, “The fields are there and are ripe for the harvest. People recognize that atheism is its own form of religion. It’s harsh and unattractive. Agnosticism was never widespread and has always been limited mainly to educated classes.”

He said that if people identify as “nothing in particular”—“then in my view they are right back where the church started, among pagan nations, and that is great for us, for evangelization.” Pakaluk told CNA the rise of religious unaffiliation is due to “secularized education and the trauma and poor example of divorce.”

Despite his concerns, or maybe because of them, Pakaluk said now is a great time for evangelization. He said, “Catholic parents should think twice, or three times, before they send their children to any colleges except faithful, vibrant, Catholic colleges.”

Writing for Crisis magazine, historian and author W. Crocker III took a harder line. “Before we can reach the adult nones with the good, the beautiful, and the true, we need to shake them out of their willed imbecility. … Until that is achieved, arguments about truth will miss the mark. Christian humility, charity, and generosity will not move them. … You want to win the nones? Treat ’em rough.”

The evangelical Christianity Today ran this headline, “Why Evangelicals Aren’t Afraid of Being Outnumbered by Nones.” In the article Erik Thoennes, professor and department chair of biblical and theological studies at Biola University, said his Generation Z students are turned off by church marketing or bids to make it cool. They want authenticity.

He said he goes with traditional strengths such as the power of Christ. As the article concludes, he is quoted, “I don’t have to stay atop of the latest trends to make sure dechurching doesn’t happen at my church.” He is pastor of Grace Evangelical Free Church in La Mirada, California. He said. “It’s simple: Stay focused on Jesus.”

Got questions about our minority friends, neighbors and coworkers?

There are now more than 20 guides in the Bias Busters series. Which ones would you like? 

Laura Elizabeth welcomes hundreds of readers into an immersive dinner theater based on her cozy mystery

“Welcome to Mongin Island” The dinner theater was held beneath a huge white tent at the Kaya Vineyard and Winery—giving guests a sense of stepping into the mysterious world woven by novelist and now playwright Laura Elizabeth. (More photos below—so, please, continue reading.)

Beloved Cozy Mystery Characters Spring to Life—with an Author-Curated Soundtrack, as well


EDITOR’s NOTE: In our 14-year history as publishers, we have never had an author turn a book’s “story” into dinner theater. So, we hope readers will understand how thrilled we are to see cozy-mystery author Laura Elizabeth stage a triumphant theatrical run in partnership with Kaya Vineyard and Winery in Georgia. We invited Laura to send us a column about this special experience.


By LAURA ELIZABETH
Author of The Island Mysteries, No. 1: All Is Now Lost

Click on this photo of Laura Elizabeth holding her cozy mystery to jump to the book’s Amazon page and order your own copy in hardcover, paperback or Kindle.

We’re celebrating our three sold-out performances under the tent at Kaya Vineyard in Dahlonega, Georgia! Over 350 people joined us for these performances.

The All Is Now Lost dinner theater followed a script that I wrote, based on my book and I had the good fortune of greeting the crowd each evening to thank them for supporting this work, my book and Kaya.

The audience took a fun-filled journey to Mongin island where they experienced landmarks in the novel including: Books & Brew, which is Carr’s bookstore, and Governor’s Point.

Blue Ridge Community Theater took that script and added some improv—bringing out the personalities of Carr, Barb, Tripp, Coastal Carl, Missy, Theresa and Deputy Julie.

In between scenes, the tent was filled with the tunes from my Spotify playlist, which set the mood for this island mystery. (You can enjoy that playlist right now by visiting this page in my website.)

At intermission, the audience was asked to guess who they thought was our criminal. Correct guesses were entered into a raffle for a gorgeous gift basket.

As I moved through the crowd, I heard many alternate theories to solving the crime. It was definitely a fun, interactive, show that built community—just like what my characters experience on their beloved Mongin Island. Of course, some people had already read the book, but that didn’t stop the crowd from guessing!

Each night, I met so many readers and fans of this book—with some people traveling from Georgia, North Carolina, Alabama, and South Carolina to see this show and to meet me. It was an experience filled with Island Magic!

To see my characters brought to life and to hear the words I wrote was an absolutely incredible experience. We are already working out the details for four shows next year based on the next installment of The Island Mysteries.

Don’t miss a moment!

Visit my The Island Mysteries website and sign up for my free monthly newsletters.

Before showtime, author Laura Elizabeth visits with a central character from her popular cozy mystery known as Barb.

In the midst of the drama, the main character Carr (center) considers looming twists in the unfolding plot with Theresa (right) and Deputy Julie.

FICTION—Laura Elizabeth’s novel is set partly in a bookstore called Books & Brew on Mongin Island, a fictional version of the real-life, historic Daufuskie Island. FACT—In real life, Laura’s novel is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Walmart and other book retailers.

‘Now what?’ An Idea Incubator at a creative Michigan church bursts with ideas for helping families to embrace ‘The Gifts and Challenges of Aging’

GENERATING FRESH IDEAS FOR THE ENTIRE COMMUNITY: Founding Editor David Crumm presents an Idea Incubator program at Clarkston United Methodist Church in Michigan. The church’s “gathering space” was set up with tables so participants could easily indicate their preferences for various ideas on survey sheets.

By DAVID CRUMM
Editor of ReadTheSpirit magazine

Seventy men and women packed the “gathering space” at Clarkston United Methodist Church in Michigan for an “Idea Incubator” about “The Gifts and Challenges of Aging.” That’s the subtitle of our book, Now What? It’s a valuable resource book written by experts in aging—packed with helpful and inspiring information about the many ways we can transform fears about aging into creative resilience as we mature.

IMAGINE YOUR GROUP’s LOGO ON THE COVER—This is the special Clarkston modified edition of the nationally released book Now What? If you click on this cover, you will visit the book’s main Amazon page. If you are interested in modifying a special edition for your community, we will be happy to talk with you about that—if you will email us at [email protected]

In preparation for that program, members of this very active church northwest of Detroit had ordered 70 copies of our book, adapted so that each copy was personalized for their congregation. Their church’s logo was on the front cover of each book distributed for the special program. Plus, the opening pages bound into this Clarkston edition are a two-page letter from their senior pastor, the Rev. Amy Mayo-Moyle. In her letter, Amy explained why this fresh approach to aging is in perfect harmony with the congregation’s mission statement: “Connecting people to people—and people to God.”

The distribution of these books—and an opportunity to take part in this unusual Idea Incubator—raised the enthusiasm in this community to a whole new level! Evidence of that was in participants’ glowing responses to the program’s organizers and speakers that night. They also expressed their interest on survey sheets. Plus, two of our authors who spoke during the program—Rusty Rosman and Howard Brown—sold far more of their books than any of us had expected.

We were surprised, in part, because everyone who participated that night already was reading their specially modified “Clarkston United Methodist Church” editions of Now What? As they arrived, we could see that their copies of that book were studded with bookmarks, Post-it notes and other markers.

Then, in addition to Now What?—they welcomed the idea of fostering future programs on various aspects of aging and caregiving. And, most of them went home with an additional book in their arms that they had decided to purchase, after the program, from Rusty or Howard.

That’s why we called this program an “Idea Incubator”—a way to lift up creative possibilities and build excitement.

It was a fitting way to use this special book. It was in keeping with the spirit of the 14 major organizations that came together just prior to the COVID pandemic—along with 15 expert authors—to develop Now What? Together, we assembled a rich collection of resources on everything from health and wellbeing to caregiving to funeral planning. The nonprofit network that created this resource intended it to be used by groups to generate ideas for new programs to help individuals and families. And, then, the pandemic hit. Public programs nationwide were cancelled. So, this week, the Clarkston church became the first to finally offer a public, in-person program exploring all of these “gifts and challenges.”

How did our Idea Incubator work?

As the General Editor of this book project from the start, I presented its most valuable ideas to the audience. For example, the first one I summarized was this one:

“People who care about their congregations—Christians, Jews and Muslims—hope to welcome more people. Here in Clarkston, you do, too. You hope to encourage more people to join you. Of course, you’ve got lots of reasons to encourage people: You’re warm, welcoming and inspiring. But, did you know that there also is solid, scientific evidence from around the world that connecting with a congregation actually is good for you? After two decades of public-health research, there’s now a global consensus that connecting with a congregation is a predictor of health, wellbeing and increased longevity. That may sound surprising, but it’s true: Secular research on the ‘social determinants of health’ concludes that the caring community connections we form in congregations will help us live happier, healthier and longer lives. It’s summarized in the heart of this book, Now What?—specifically look at chapters 9 and 10.”

At that point in the presentation, I watched as people in the audience pulled out their pens and made notes. Some people opened their books and moved bookmarks to those chapters so they could focus on them later.

After I listed this particular insight—the social determinants of health as they relate to congregations—I listed 13 more valuable ideas in this book for individuals and families. Each person at the event had been given a single sheet of paper with all 14 ideas listed. Below each idea, participants drew a “star” along a range of preferences from “No thank you, this one isn’t for me” to the opposite end of the spectrum: “I’m interested.” When we concluded, those sheets expressing the individual interests of everyone in the room were collected for the congregation’s leadership to consult as they plan future programs.

When they got that pile of responses, Amy and her leadership team could see at a glance that they represented many months of ideas to explore across the coming year. “There’s so much to look over and use here!” Amy said. “This definitely will be part of our planning process this year.”

How this event was organized

Clarkston United Methodist Church already has dozens of ongoing outreach programs and many “life groups”—plus classes, programs for children and youth, discussion circles and public-service projects in Michigan and abroad. That’s one reason we collectively chose this community for this first big program on Now What? We all knew that these folks in Clarkston would be wonderfully receptive.

The other reason we wound up at Clarkston was the encouragement of an “angel”—the term our publishing house uses for a community leader who steps up to ensure that book-related programs happen. Brenda DuPree is a longtime lay leader in the Clarkston congregation and she contacted me, because she remembered that our publishing house broadcast on this book’s national release date from the Clarkston church’s “gathering space.” At that point in the pandemic, we couldn’t host a big public event to launch the book. We needed to use Zoom—and the Clarkston staff volunteered its audio-visual resources to produce the elaborate Zoom event. For an hour, experts from across the nation shared ideas from this book across Zoom.

Brenda DuPree remembered that Clarkston connection with this book—and she realized that the resources in this book had never really reached as many people as we had hoped. So, with pandemic fears having subsided, she launched this new Clarkston planning project, and she also generously supported the whole effort for several months leading to our Idea Incubator this week. The event would not have been possible without Brenda’s tireless work as a local “angel.”

“Angels” like Brenda DuPree can make a huge difference across an entire community and now—with the publication of this ReadTheSpirit story about the event—nationwide.

What Brenda accomplished is exactly what all the expert-authors and nonprofit co-sponsors of this book had hoped.

This book table was shared by Rusty Rosman and Howard Brown at this event in Clarkston, Michigan. By the end of the evening, most of these books were heading home with men and women who were inspired by their talks—and were eager to read more.

Rusty Rosman and Howard Brown—’Shining Brightly’

Click to visit the book’s Amazon page.

Two authors who understood the importance of this program each agreed to give a short talk at the event—and both wound up far outshining my own presentation of the book’s core ideas.

Of course, I was not surprised. That is why I invited Rusty Rosman, author of Two Envelopesand Howard Brown, author of Shining Brightly, to conclude our presentation with personal talks.

When Rusty began her talk, she started with the summary she uses with audiences nationwide (in person or via Zoom or podcast): “When you die, there are so many things your family and loved ones immediately need to know. Two Envelopes is your voice, conveying your final wishes regarding your death and your estate.”

She went on: “We know that three of the most emotional times in our lives are our marriage, birth of our children and the death of a loved one. We cannot predict how we will react at these times but our emotions come out whether we’re expecting them or not. Two Envelopes helps keep chaos at bay when dealing with the emotions of the death of your loved one.”

As she talked, I saw people across the room smiling and nodding their heads knowingly. They already knew what “chaos” can ensue when a loved one dies without ever expressing their wishes about what should come next.

Many people laughed when Rusty said that one of the thorniest questions for families is: “What will you wear when you’re dead?” As they laughed, many nodded. The question struck a personal cord.

She said, “One of the most emotional topics of family discussion when a loved one dies—and it can even become an argument—is what their loved one will wear for viewing and burial. Even if cremation is chosen, there often is a viewing before the final service.”

Click to visit Amazon.

Then, Rusty told several stories about dear friends whose families had wrestled with such questions. This was emotional stuff! Rusty’s emotions reverberated in her voice. Emotions also were obvious in faces all across the “gathering space.” And, that’s why, when the program ended, a third of the people in attendance flocked to Rusty’s book table to buy copies of their book.

Clarkston already was planning programs later this year to discuss end-of-life decisions. The interest in this subject was clear cut in that crowd. We collectively hoped to heighten awareness of the importance of this subject across the whole community.

And, of course, Howard Brown’s conclusion of the program built on those emotions Rusty had stirred. A two-time survivor of life-threatening stage IV cancer, Howard simply told the story of several “miracles” that he has witnessed in his own life—because of personal resilience and because of the support of so many friends and family members.

Howard’s story was so moving that—at that point—the audience interrupted him for applause three times! None of us expected applause at such a program, but—at this point in the evening—it was clear we were talking about life-and-death issues close to the hearts of so many people in that room.

Similarly, when the program ended, a wave of people gathered around Howard and bought his Shining Brightly book to take home with them. Some people, in fact, bought both books. None of us expected such a heart-felt response!

Care to join us?

Is there an “angel” in your congregation—or your regional group, library or nonprofit—who would like to bring such a program to your community? A lot of planning and preparation went into that special night in Clarkston, but our publishing house is willing to plan such events with other interested groups in the future.

Contact us at: [email protected] or [email protected] Either email address will reach our offices.

Want to learn more about Rusty Rosman? Visit her website, RustyRosman.com

Want to learn more about Howard Brown? Visit his website, ShiningBrightly.com

Want to learn more about this remarkable congregation in Clarkston, Michigan? Visit their website.

Loss and Remembrance: Barbara Braver on Mother’s elegant silk blouse—and the larger life

EDITOR’S NOTE: In February, we published a column by Rusty Rosman that posed the question: “What will you wear when you’re dead?” The question went viral. Many readers responded, telling us that they started asking friends and family members this unusual question. Rusty’s purpose in asking that question was part of the overall process she describes in her helpful new book, Two Envelopes. The book guides readers through making notes for their family and friends about their wishes, when they die someday. The most elaborate and eloquent response to the provocative clothing question was this column written by long-time professional communicator Barbara Braver.

By BARBARA BRAVER
Contributing Writer

The “larger life” here has nothing to do with moving to a larger clothes size. The idea of the “larger life” comes later in all of this, as does the silk blouse. Meanwhile, I am remembering Mother with great affection, nearly four decades after her death at age 83.

There are things we remember, and things we choose to forget. In this moment I am thinking of something I most definitely have not forgotten, but to which I have ceased to give power. That is Mother’s critical nature, which was more than matched by that of a beloved aunt, Mother’s sister Catherine.

With regard to the silk blouse: it was such an elegant gray silk blouse of Mother’s that though I am, of course, using American spelling, I think of it as a grey blouse. The English spelling seems somehow grander and more fitting for this particular blouse. In any event, the blouse is the end of the story—the end of the earthly story for Mother as she was buried in it. But, I have skipped to the end, which will only make sense if I start a bit earlier.

Now that I have raised children of my own to adulthood, I have an increasingly clearer sense of the mother-child connection and the positively frightening potential within that bond for both good and ill.

In the case of Mother, my wild Irish mother, it was mostly expressed for the good. Of course, time has dimmed what was painful or unpleasant. In fact, since her death all ill feeling has fallen away. She has been totally rehabilitated, if not actually canonized. Also, I have come to understand better some of the relational pieces, which required years of life experience, illuminated by therapy.

I am not now who I was then, and neither is she.

It is unlikely that my now lost blue diary from the 7th grade included any reference to my struggles with Mother, little fits and starts, and thrust and parry, and hug and kiss and each then feeling sorry for what we had thought or done, as the naughty child or the imperfect mother. Nor would I have written anything about her struggles, of which I knew little, at least not at an available level of consciousness.

I knew she grew up with Catherine, her bossy little sister who was younger by less than a year. “Irish twins” they called such close-in-age siblings. And they certainly were Irish, both of their parents having made their way from there to live in Sewickley, Pennsylvania. Catherine knew-it-all, or had the façade of one who did and was always eager to share her superior knowledge in bold terms followed by the sort of tic of the dismissive laugh. Catherine was the master of dropping an “Oh you may not care about this, but you ought to—” And, of course, I have no sense of what her interior life was all about.

I knew that Mother’s brother, Jim—“our Jim,” the youngest of the three—was an important lawyer. That’s the way I would have understood it: an important lawyer. With money. Discretionary money enough for Sunday ice cream for me and a convertible for him. I knew Uncle Jim had a fine education. His law school graduation day photo is mounted on one of the crumbling black paper pages of our ancient leather-bound album. He smiles out from under his mortar board, his lanky 6’2” frame hidden under his gown. Catherine is in the middle next to him, also smiling.

Is it my imagination that Mother seems more like observer than participant on this day of celebration? Her body is half turned, as if to look less bulky—in a ¾ view. But, Mother was not at all bulky and how often she told me that at 5’6”, a height tall for women in those days, she “never weighed more than 118 pounds”—a weight I have not had since I was—say 12. She is held there in that photo, young and posing at the edge of her vulnerability.

Our Jim got the education in the family. At least that is what I used to think: he “got” the education. Then I found out that was only half true. Yes, he went to college, as his sisters did not, but he did not graduate with his class. Though his course work was finished, his tuition bills were not paid. How can this be? Grandfather— PapPap as I, his first grandchild, had named him—PapPap had come from Ireland after college and through wit and charm and hard work had made what then was lots of money, or so it was said. Daniel Francis Dillon, who could “charm the skin from a snake,” owned three houses when he died. That was the script. It was also said of him that “he could not smell the cork.” PapPap was a “ward healer”—working for the party, getting votes for his candidates. I can imagine a drink bought here and there, and another, was a part of that. I know that Uncle Jim had a highly successful ongoing law career, but I am sure he had his own feelings about all of this, of which I am not aware.

Mother and Catherine, equally bright, equally eager I feel sure, in line with some of the prevailing cultural norms of those days, did not go to college. Rather, they went on to work at the telephone company, a respectable temporary destination for them until they were swept up into marriage and the life expected of each of them.

Given all of this history, my biggest realization, and I know this sounds obvious, is how much Mother identified with my triumphs and failures. Worse, she felt responsible for them in large measure, which gave her an enormous energy, more than I wanted, around all of my doings, most particularly those having to do with outer appearance. The look of things, including her only daughter, mattered to her a great deal, and her intensity likely propelled me into a rebellious rejection of her particular standards of taste.

Things went pretty smoothly between us in my early years before I developed any opinions contrary to hers. By the time I was six or so I had to be stuffed into the pink sweater that matched the pink pinafore. I can dredge up certain phrases of hers, questions tentatively phrased but with a quite explicit subtext. “Do you think that looks alright?” “Don’t you think plaid makes you look fat?” “Are you planning to wear that?” (Well, gee, I was walking out the door in it.) “Do you want to be just as broad as Nelly’s dresser?” I had never seen the dresser of the oft-evoked Nelly, but I got the idea.

There is a certain irony in the fact that I can also hear Mother warning me: “Sins of the tongue, Barbara! Sins of the tongue.” I guess she knew what part of me would get me into the most trouble, and the same was true for her. I now know that Mother’s insecurities about her own self were operative here and that she needed me to “be somebody” as a measure of her mothering. Perhaps some of her buried hopes for herself were to be realized in me, her only daughter. Mother often said that “it takes three generations to make a lady.” I guess that means that I—following Grandmother, and Mother, was the third generation here—and the destined lady. However, going very far down that path is not part of my brief, given where I am in my life and where she is in hers.

That brings me back to the blouse. Before Mother’s funeral Mass and burial there was the “viewing,” which has always struck me as a strange term. It was the period set aside by the funeral home to give family a quiet moment with the deceased, and then friends and neighbors time to come and offer condolences, pay their respects, and reminisce about what had been. Mother was “laid out,” as they say, in an open casket, having been combed and powdered, and I don’t even want to think about what all else, in preparation. (I am planning to be cremated myself.) She was dressed in what someone, I believe my dear brother, George, chose as suitable and appropriate for such an occasion. You could only see her down to about mid-chest, the rest of her mortal remains being under some sort of a silk shawl affair.

Highly visible was the elegant silk blouse in the shade of softest gray. Affixed to it, just where she would have put it herself, was a silver pin. It was a regal lion, caught in mid-stride: just the sort of pin one finds in museum gift shops. I had seen her wearing it often. I thought she looked quite fine, for a dead person that is.

After my brother and I had a quiet moment with Mother, other family members came forward. In the lead was Aunt Catherine. I loved my Aunt Catherine and since she was not my mother, I could ignore her frequently acid remarks and opinions and just enjoy her for her wit. She and Uncle Herb had taken me in during the week when at age 4 I dealt with the reality of my newborn brother about to come home from the hospital and stay for the rest of my life. They bought me a fancy blue tricycle and explained that was what “big girls” could ride. They gave me grapefruit for breakfast, which I had never had before, and told me this was something unknown to babies. All through my little girl years I delighted in spending weeks each summer at her house, bopping around with her ever increasing number of children and making up one-finger tunes on their old upright piano.

I should note that, by the time of Mother’s death, Catherine had lost enough of her marbles—and thank heavens she had started out with lots of them—that when visitors arrived at the funeral home she greeted them warmly, thanked them for coming to her home, and directed one of her children to “please get them some tea.” At one point she spotted someone she recognized and pointed him out to me with great excitement.

“Look, that’s Joe Rafferty, I’m sure, but is it young Joe or his Dad?”

Well, the gentleman in question, erect in bearing and handsome still with his shock of white hair and bright blue eyes, was a match in age for Aunt Catherine. I was pretty sure he wasn’t young Joe.

“That must be his Dad,” I told her.

“Oh,” Aunt Catherine exclaimed, “how truly grand of him to come. He was a good friend of Father’s.”

A good friend of Father’s?

Hmmm. This would have made the fellow about 120 years old. I said, “Actually, Aunt Catherine, I think that must be young Joe.”

In any event, Catherine had not lost her grip on her fierce opinions about the appearance and presentation of everyone who crossed her path. She swept, as best she could, up to Mother’s coffin and practically hissed at me, the bereaved daughter: “How could you dress Mary in that dreadful gray blouse?!”

That really stopped me.

I looked at Catherine, unable to imagine what one could possibly say in response. And then, the moment of clarity, of joy, of illumination hit me. Mother was free. Mother had been released. She cared not in the slightest about what she was wearing. It no longer mattered to her. Her 83 years of anxious concern about what is right, proper, appropriate, suitable were over. Alleluia. I thought: that is what the larger life is about, beyond pettiness and the narrow meanness of far too many of our days, beyond the superficial.

Released!

I looked at her lying there, very beautiful really, in that elegant blouse, and felt great delight for her new state. I bent over and kissed her. I think she may have winked at me.

This was the beginning of a healing for Mother and me. Well, Mother is already there—restored, redeemed, in a place that is no place and every place.

As for me, grateful for God’s grace, I am moving toward it.


.

Barbara Braver

.Barbara Braver grew up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania where at age 12 she started a one-page weekly newspaper called Neighborhood News. It lasted for a full summer, to the amusement of several indulgent neighbors. This was the beginning of the writing life. After college graduation she moved to the Boston area, drawn by romantic notions of Emerson, Thoreau and Louisa May Alcott. Though this might have been an insubstantial motive, she has never been disappointed. By an apparent coincidence she ended up working for the Episcopal Church in the area of communication, first for 11 years as Director of Communication for the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts until another coincidence sent her to New York where for 18 years she worked as the communication assistant for the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church. Since retirement she continues writing, editing and leading retreats. Barbara was also Madeleine L’Engle’s housemate for 12 of the years she lived in NYC.

PBS network’s wonderful ‘Gospel’ series is a ‘multimedia experience with wall-to-wall music’

Click on this poster for the PBS series to visit the extensive website PBS has set up with supplemental materials.

By JOE GRIMM
Director of MSU’s Bias Busters

Hop aboard the PBS network’s four-part Gospel docuseries that sweeps through the origins, expansion and future of gospel music. (Click here to visit the extensive PBS website related to this series.)

Host Henry Louis Gates Jr., drives this expedition from The South through the Great Migration to Chicago, then to Detroit and eventually everywhere. Gospel music evolved and picked up steam as it grew out of safe hush harbors to small Black churches to “race music” to choirs, radio, recording contracts, television, mega churches, clubs and white and international audiences.

This project is a layered multimedia experience with wall-to-wall music. It is rare to find moments where there is not both narration or interviews and music. Video and photography as well as crawling lyrics illustrate the story and music. It commands attention.

Gates and a choir of sources—some of whom sing—tell how spirituals, blues and jazz became gospel music and how the art forms continued to change and meld. The project details the ongoing struggle between spiritual and secular performance and settings for gospel music. The dynamic tension between whether to praise or be paid, whether to play the churches or the juke joints, accelerated some careers and stalled others.

With rich archival footage and contemporary interviews, the series goes beyond the headliners—so many stars are featured—to show how the writers, ministers of music, producers, entrepreneurs and business people made gospel grow from churches to communities to the country to the anthem track for the Civil Rights movement. The series drives vertically through time and horizontally through what has become a global audience.

In framing the history, Gates says, “The Black Church has been the home of creative expression and experimentation for more than 300 years. From the beginning, this creativity was driven by the one instrument that Black people could count on when nothing else was available: The human voice.”

Gates is a professor and the director of the Hutchins Center for African and African American Research at Harvard University. He has authored dozens of books and films.

Gates is always on a roll, and that is true today. His newest book, The Black Box: Writing the Race comes out March 19. His PBS Finding Your Roots show is in its 10th season. A profile in the current February-March AARP magazine says, “Some public intellectuals win their place in society through fierce debate, showing off the sharpness of their minds during verbal attacks. But Henry Louis Gates Jr. took a slightly different path. He did it by being charming.”

That charm—Gates’ knowledge and laughter—make the Gospel docuseries engaging.

Click on the cover to visit the book’s Amazon page.

When my Michigan State journalism class was working on our book, 100 Questions and Answers About the Black Church: The Social and Spiritual Movement of a People, we provided the students copies of  Gates’ The Black Church: This Is Our Story, This Is Our Song (2021) for them. His influence, of course, means that the MSU guide spends some time with gospel music.

How I wish this PBS series had been available to the student authors then! They would have loved this.

Even so, their guide can supplement PBS’ Gospel. The guide focuses on the Black Church more broadly, of course. Among the 100 questions we answer:

Why were Black Churches created?

What characterizes a Black church service?

How did the Black migration to the North affect the church?

How are Black Churches sanctuaries?

What is the minister of music’s role?

What is the Black social gospel?

What role did the Black Church have in the Civil Rights movement?
Why are movement, energy and emotion important to praise?

What is modern gospel?

How do sacred and secular music interact?

Our modest guide includes the briefest but diverse list of gospel artists, a timeline and video in which the Rev. Robert Jones demonstrates how the sacred “I Shall Overcame” became the Civil Rights anthem, “We Shall Overcome.”

The PBS series began streaming for free in February and that free version ends March 11 and 12. The DVD of the docuseries will ship from Amazon on March 19. It has lots of goodies including a Gospel Live! concert companion, trailers, behind-the scenes photos and a Spotify playlist of 162 songs.

 

 

Leanne Friesen’s ‘Grieving Room’ helps us chart the long journey of grief in the hope—of making room for hope itself

Leanne Friesen and her book. (Photo courtesy of Leanne.)

After a traumatic death, you can help by ‘making room’

By DAVID CRUMM
Editor of ReadTheSpirit magazine

Click this cover to visit the book’s Amazon page.

Halfway through Leanne Friesen’s new book, Grieving Room, my reaction was: This is both a daring and a rare book.

By that I mean: It’s a startlingly honest letter sent out into the world, especially pitched for readers in their 20s, 30s and 40s who need particular kinds of help with the long and twisting journey of grief.

Why is age an issue? Looking over the hundreds of books on the lingering effects of loss—grief can seem downright geriatric. When he published A Grief Observed, arguably the world’s most famous grief memoir, C.S. Lewis was 63. Only two years later, he followed his wife in death.

But, the truth is: Every year, long-term grief strikes millions of younger men and women—including Leanne Friesen in her 30s. At that too-young age, Leanne experienced the death of her too-young sister Roxanne. When Roxanne died of melanoma, Leanne already was an experienced pastor and thought she should be an expert in grief, which she wasn’t—yet. Eventually, in her 40s, and after living with her grief over losing Roxanne for a number of years, Leanne wrote this book to share their story with the rest of us.

And that’s the greatest value of this eloquent book: Leanne still is a relatively young pastor writing about grief among relatively young adults. At that age, our responses and relationships after a loved one’s untimely death unfold in different patterns, at a different pace and with different pressures than friends in their 60s, 70s or older experience after a death.

When I first read Leanne’s book, I was so moved by her insights that I posted an early review in Goodreads, explaining that her book was a solace for me as I continue to feel the loss of my own brother, many years ago, when he was only 39. Even though I’m now in my 60s, I could feel the authenticity of Leanne’s story of struggling to reclaim hope in her own life again after such an early loss. And, as I live with my own grief for my brother and others I’ve lost—part of my vocation is to publish columns like this one about the need to help each other with these journeys. Just last month, our magazine published a column by Jeffrey Munroe, author of Telling Stories in the Dark, about a man in his 90s who surprised Jeff by telling him about his heartfelt grief over the death of a brother many, many decades earlier. As I read Jeff’s column, I could feel that old man’s heartache. I can say quite honestly that I will be thinking of my own brother even into my 90s, should I live so long.

And that’s the most compelling reason to read Leanne’s book, I think. If you are grieving, this book assures us that this is a part of life we simply must accept and make room to explore.

The ‘bedeviling problem of age’ and untimely death

So, this potentially bedeviling problem of age was the first thing Leanne and I talked about in our interview about her book. The question that so many of us have wrestled with for years is: Does grief haunt us forever or are there ways to turn our paths, as we carry these memories, toward the hope of finding hope someday. Her book argues that there can be such a transformation—and I agree.

I said to Leanne: “One reason I want to recommend your book is your age, your sister’s age when she died, and what I think is this book’s value for millions of younger adults who are on this incredibly difficult journey—at what feels like an untimely age. Do you think I’m right in saying that?”

“I agree,” Leanne said. “I do think what you’re saying lines up with all the younger people who have connected with me online through my website and my Instagram page.” (That Instagram page, @grieving.room, has 34,000 followers!)

“When I lost my sister Roxanne, I was 35, and I couldn’t think of anyone I knew who had lost a sibling at my age,” Leanne said. “Often, the first loss in a person’s family is a much older relative like a grandparent—and those can be very shocking losses for people, of course—but that’s a different grieving experience than losing a sibling at such a young age.

“When you hit grief prematurely, you do feel profoundly alone—so I appreciate your saying that this book addresses that for readers. If my story can help other younger adults, then I am honored to be part of that. That’s why I continue to post to the Instagram @grieving.room—I can see from the responses that I get online that we do need to help each other make room.”

Why is this book ‘daring’?

I describe this book as “daring,” because it’s rare to read such an honest memoir by a pastor still in active ministry—especially when Leanne warns us about all the dumb stuff some acquaintances tend to say and do after a death in the family. She describes this honestly so that we, in our own grieving processes, will know we’re not alone in feeling hurt or bewildered by such responses—and to warn us away from repeating such things to folks we love when they are grieving.

Finding what we think are “wise words” after a death is an almost universal temptation. Especially after a traumatic death in one’s family, we receive a waterfall of well-meaning wishes from folks reassuring us that we can “cope,” “survive” and “get over it.” Such wishes—often accompanied by biblical-sounding adages—can have the opposite effect. If you have grieved, you probably recall all the unhelpful lines you heard—if not, read Leanne’s book to discover them.

At times in this memoir, Leanne admits to boiling with rage at thoughtless comments. She uses the word “anger” 34 times and “angry” 47 times—then “rage” or “raging” pop up 29 times, not to mention a fair number of times Leanne admits to having been “mad” or wanting to “scream.”

But, please, don’t get me wrong! This is a truly loving book. Leanne’s Instagram @grieving.room and her personal presence in our hour-long Zoom interview made it clear to me that she’s an exceptionally loving and generous person.

“I’m impressed that you write so honestly,” I told Leanne. “How did you summon the courage?”

“I decided to write honestly about these things because so many people misunderstand grief. Myths about death and grief are so common,” Leanne said in response. “I can tell you that, when someone walks up to me to talk at a funeral home, I’m mentally rolling the dice on what I’m about to hear them say. Sometimes people know what to say, but—all too often, what comes out is something that isn’t helpful—and may even be hurtful.

“That was one of my hopes in writing this book: I want people to know they don’t have an obligation to go ‘say something helpful’ to a grieving person,” Leanne said. “People who are grieving at a funeral don’t need friends to come up and theologize to them. They’re in the midst of grief. You don’t have to try to teach them something. There are so many other ways you can be helpful to them—ways that I write about in the book. I tried to make this book as helpful as possible.”

For example, she said, “I want people to to realize how long grief lasts—for years, just like we’ve been saying in this interview. Anyone who wants to be supportive to a griever should assume that anyone who has lost someone in the last year or two is still thinking about that—most likely every day. They’re likely still walking around in a bubble of grief. That’s certainly the way I was walking around for a very long time after Roxanne’s death. But people forget that, after a loss, especially a too-young loss or a traumatic loss, your life doesn’t go back to how it was before that loss.”

So, what can we do?
Start by ‘making room’

If you read Leanne’s book, you will discover that this is one of the most important “take aways” from Leanne’s book: We should help each other to make space in our lives for all the changes and challenges that come in the years after a loss.

In fact, Leanne is so intentional and practical about providing assistance that she closes her book with a 40-page section called “Reflections, Practices, and Prayers.” It’s a step-by-step series of suggestions for either individual practice or for group discussion and action.

And all of this rests on the central metaphor of “room”—the space grieving people need for a very long time after a traumatic death to adjust to the new world they are experiencing. “Room” is such a powerful metaphor that Leanne’s Instagram “room” is drawing new followers every day. When we met for this Zoom interview a few weeks ago, she was talking about the 31,000 people who had connected with her in that Instagram room—and this week, the total is already 34,000.

So, what is this “room” everyone’s buzzing about?

Well, that’s why you should order a copy of Leanne’s book in which all 20 chapter titles start with the word “room.” Between these covers, you’ll find a book-length amount of ideas to consider. But here’s just one example:

She makes a point in her book of recommending A Hole in the World, a recently published reflection on grief by Amanda Held Opelt, the sister of best-selling author Rachel Held Evans, who died at age 37. Leanne appreciates the way that book emphasizes the need to help younger people who are grieving “to make room for the rituals of death” in the midst of their own busy lives with the pressures of daily work and perhaps caring for children.

Then, in our interview, Leanne touched on one of her own favorite examples of “making room”: “I will never forget the two friends who understood what I was going through and made room for me in a practical way when Roxanne died. They had lost their father when they were in their 20s,” Leanne said. “They understood grief at an early age.”

In the book, she writes that these two friends responded to Leanne’s loss by volunteering to provide childcare to allow Leanne the uninterrupted “room we needed to remember Roxanne.” Leanne writes:

My children at the time were just 2 and 5 years old. … We didn’t have access to babysitters we knew who wouldn’t also need to attend the service, so I had wondered what we would do A few days before, I got a call from my friends, Jan and Jill, twins I had known since I was born. They explained to me that they had each taken the day off work so they could babysit my children during the funeral. I will never, ever forget this kindness. They were making room for our rituals, and in so doing, they made room for my grief. I felt swallowed up in compassion. I felt the blessing as we mourned.

‘Making room for hope’

After her years of navigating grief, Leanne has a great instinct for how she can now bless others by making room for them. She is a pastor, a scholar and now serves as a regional leader in her Canadian denomination. She also has become a popular retreat speaker and guest on many podcasts and online platforms. She earned her MDiv from McMaster University, plus a post-graduate certificate in death and bereavement from Wilfred Laurier University.

Her writing bears the marks of a thoughtful, natural storyteller who chooses each word for a precise effect. On the final page of her last chapter, Leanne writes that she hopes her readers will, someday, be able to make “room for the hope that you will not just get through your grief but that there can be ways that you will become a version of yourself that you will be glad to be.”

I love that phrasing because I so clearly recognize a fellow passenger through grief in that wording. Did you catch her nuance? She’s not promising readers that they will, indeed, “get through” their grief. She’s hoping that they will someday make room for hope. That sentence alone proves the illustrates of the wisdom of this book.

Care to learn more?

Want to connect with Leanne? Visit her at her website, LeanneFriesen.com, and visit her ever-growing Instagram community of friends @grieving.room

If you care to read a kindred book about rediscovering resilience after grief and other traumas, get a copy of Jeffrey Munroe’s new Telling Stories in the Dark. Both Leanne’s and Jeff’s books feel contemporary, honest and forward looking. These wise authors—both well acquainted with grief—are simply sitting down with us and sharing their hard-earned wisdom. They’re telling their stories, which millions of us need to hear—because they also are our own.

I closed my Goodreads review of Leanne’s book this way:

My hope is that many readers will find hope between these covers. And may Leanne Friesen continue writing for many decades until her life is so bursting with wonderment that we get the sequel to this wise and welcoming volume. And, God willing, may I be around to write another 5-star review.