There was this movie released 15 years ago called Up in the Air, in which Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) was often hired by large corporations to deliver the rather unpleasant news to respective employees that their own bosses, management or CEOs had no interest in doing so themselves; after they decided to lay off however many lower-on-the-company-food-chain personnel. In between all these horrible stops, the main character spent plenty of time “up in the air.” Soon enough, he had to show someone else the ropes, not just with delivering dissatisfactory severance packages, but with mastering air travel. So, he pointed out to his apprentice, of sorts, of certain groups of people to avoid and certain groups of people to follow when it came to the dreaded security checkpoint lines. In short, he said, “I’m like my mother, I stereotype. It’s faster.”
It's funny…to some degree, but it’s also sad, and undoubtedly true. It’s not just for the people who need to master the sound-byte to fit into a short news segment or a newspaper image caption or a head/tagline on social media. We all have our moments. We speak of entire groups of people to make a certain verbal point stick, as if all people in that group are the exact same: from political party affiliation to where people live or went to school, not to mention organized religion membership and our point of origin on this earth. No matter how much we insist on following the One who would absolutely rail against such demeaning narrow-minded thinking and speaking, we still do it. After all, do we actually have time to know absolutely everyone’s story that might prove whatever point is being made wrong?
Recent claims have been made about a certain group of people living in a place I called home for four years of my life. Granted, I will be the first to admit that most of my time was spent on the rather well-kept college town part of the city besides a few trips for groceries, restaurants, and maybe some movies here and there. Nevertheless, Springfield, Ohio, was most definitively a second home: a place that provided not just the personal warm fuzzy-feeling level of hospitality, but also provided the hospitality to explore other real-life stories that defied the stereotypes I had heard during my younger years.
At the time of this writing, that still tranquil college town part of the city has been shut down due to threats of harm being unleashed upon that campus and the surrounding city, whose story has been embarrassingly diminished to a sound-byte stereotype of an entire group of people. In closing, I wish to leave you a different story, from one of the professors at Wittenberg University, whose motto, oddly enough, is “Having Light, We Pass it on to Others.” Not darkness, not despair, not hatred, not demeaning attempts at inciting fear and rage run amok. “Having Light, We Pass it on to Others.” I hope this provides a much desperately needed light in spite of all else being attempted to tear an entire city apart.
In Christ,
Pastor Brad
Folks, a boots-on-the-ground note about Springfield these days: I’ve lived here since 2012. With the recent influx in (primarily Haitian) immigration, it’s the first time since I’ve been here the town feels vibrant instead of hollowed out. Stores are bustling (with very polite shoppers who seem to eat a lot better than I do). The parks once haunted by a handful of teenage smokers are now filled with children. Stores have fewer signs begging for hourly help to simply stay open and more friendly, hustling workers.
My wife and I agonized before buying a house here in 2021, wary we were plunging our hard-saved down payment into a withering rust belt town whose former grand mansions have all been converted into funeral homes. We left a wonderful Springfield church after the pandemic because the shrinking attendance included no kids with whom our children could grow. And now Springfield suddenly feels as if it has a lively future.
We’re putting together a big donation to the Haitian Community Help and Support Center here in town. Yesterday, our daughter brought us her beloved Polly Pockets unicorn because, “Even though I love her, the new kids need her more.” She’s excited about going to school with the kids she’s met at the park. We’re excited for her. Yes, there are infrastructural inadequacies (e.g., not enough affordable housing) and cultural challenges (e.g., no library storytimes yet in Creole).
Yet, as a historian, I read about this in every era of US history. My Norwegian family did this when they immigrated to the American West, if, like others, sometimes in fits. (The hymns at my Uncle Einar's 2007 Montana funeral were still in Norwegian.) These immigrants are doing what immigrants do: learning the ropes, exploring and transforming the culture, and injecting new life into the place they’ve chosen as home. We have two new Haitian markets here in town, delightful little start-ups to bring in familiar food to our newest members and introduce exciting things to the previous folks.
In a town whose shrinking population can no longer fill those magnificent old Catholic churches comes a population that is 65% Catholic. And the town finally feels alive. There are a host of challenges in front of us. But for the first time in a long time, there’s also a bright future.
- Patrick Reynolds, PhD (Associate Professor of Theater and Dance)