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Monday June 7, 2004 Volume VI Number 23
The Big Fella Upstairs
by Ken Kemp
lready some are complaining about over-exposure. There is a new right-wing conspiracy, some will say – to impose the god-father of modern conservatism on a reluctant world, advancing the cause at taxpayer and media expense, hijacking the headlines for a full week, pre-empting all-important news events, a blatant attempt to immortalize the contrived memory of a conservative icon.
Well, not me.
I’ve been transfixed by this milestone moment in the American experience, taking it all in with gratitude, the heartfelt inspiration, thankful for the ceasefire in the daily fare of partisan vitriol.
Let the critics whine.
Tim Russert expressed a powerful hope; one I share. No one could tell the story better than he. During the Reagan years, partisan wrangling was alive and well, with one serious difference. The President, congenial and personable, disarming and approachable had an uncanny knack of engaging his political opponents and making them his friend. Perhaps the most notable illustration was Massachusetts Democrat Tip O’Neill, the long time Speaker of the House, who made a reputation for himself as one of the first out-spoken congressmen who argued vigorously against the Vietnam War. By the time Mr. Reagan assumed his duties in the Oval Office, Tip O’Neill’s career elevated him in the House of Representatives to the powerful position of Speaker. He challenged the California actor turned politician at every turn. During the day, Tip disputed Reagan’s legislative agenda, which included tax reform and spending limits and the dismantling of the Johnson social agenda. But when the work-day was over, Reagan would invite Mr. O’Neill over to the White House, and the two would chat over a drink, swapping stories and getting acquainted. Staffers were nonplussed. When Reagan won his tax cut, O’Neill made a public and gracious telephone call to the President congratulating him on his victory. While the two were vigorous philosophical opponents, they remained personal friends.
It was a civility then that is sadly absent these days.
Russert, reporting from the National Cathedral as the formal funeral service was about to begin, expressed it well. He said, you know, this man’s memory and his personal style is having an effect on Washington today. There seems to be a bi-lateral desire for a truce. Politicians of every sort gathering here today seem to want the revival of a Reagan-like common courtesy, Russert opined.
May it be true.
The heart of democracy is open civil dialogue. It’s freedom of speech, for sure. But it’s two-way. Compromise is not one party over-powering the other and forcing submission. It isn’t the stuff of personal attacks and mean-spirited assaults and insults. It is good natured arbitration and finding common ground. It’s the ideal. The House and the Senate have a long tradition of civility and etiquette and manners; somehow lost in the rough and tumble of modern political strife.
But gathered in the National Cathedral, pondering the meaning of public service, contemplating the possibilities of a single devoted life to change the world and make it a better place, sharing the traditions of liberty and freedom, the most powerful leaders in the free world affirmed something fundamental to our way of life.
We’ll see if it sticks.
* * * * * * *
America is incurably religious.
Secularists would like you to think that religion is an unnecessary hold-over from a more primitive time; that it is the antithesis of reason, and militates against our evolution towards enlightenment. It is a sorry burden, they say, that derails progress by enshrining prejudice and self-aggrandizement with the misguided assumption that my perception of the world and my opinions and my agenda have God’s approval and yours don’t.
This view of religion may have some basis. Certainly history reveals that religion has been used to justify dubious causes and rally the masses around suspect leadership. But the abuse of religion does not nullify its validity any more than an abusive husband negates the lofty possibilities of marriage.
This week, we saw a nation turn to God. And it found him.
This is the second time our President has addressed the nation from the pulpit of the National Cathedral. The first was the Friday that followed the surprise attack on New York City and Washington D.C. by terrorists intent on the destruction of the United States of America. They struck a terrible blow. From the sanctuary of the nation’s soaring Cathedral, the President called the nation to prayer.
Once again, the nation’s eye turned to the same sanctuary - this time, to bring our grief, to mourn a deep loss. But also, we came to express our gratitude for an extraordinary life. And taken as a whole, it was an extraordinary life. It is an American story. And the spiritual dimension of that life can not be ignored.
Reagan brought some basic assumptions to his public life. He believed in a master designer. He believed in destiny. He believed that every human creation longs to be free. He believed that liberty requires responsibility. He believed that trust is essential in a thriving economy. He believed that people of character and integrity can build a healthy, wholesome society. He believed that the Founding Fathers laid a foundation that make the United States of America the world’s best hope.
But it was during his recovery from gunshot wounds that his faith took on new dimensions. He was a young, aspiring politician when John F. Kennedy’s assassin hit his mark on the streets of Dallas in 1963. He would campaign for Barry Goldwater at the Republican Convention the following year, and then win as California’s new governor in a landslide victory in 1966. But when the pain of a gunshot wound surprised him as he fled the scene in the back seat of a speeding limousine, a shot that might just as well taken his life, too, these core beliefs came into sharp focus. Others tried to describe the spiritual conversion. Former Prime Minister, now called Baroness Margaret Thatcher, put it this way –
In the terrible hours after the attempt on his life, his easy jokes gave reassurance to an anxious world. They were evidence that in the aftermath of terror and in the midst of hysteria, one great heart at least remained sane and jocular. They were truly grace under pressure.
And perhaps they signified grace of a deeper kind. Ronnie himself certainly believed that he had been given back his life for a purpose. As he told a priest after his recovery 'Whatever time I've got left now belongs to the Big Fella Upstairs'.
And surely it is hard to deny that Ronald Reagan's life was providential…
Later, Michael Reagan, on the bluff in the glow of a California sunset, described in greater detail how his father claimed a simple but profound faith in his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
It was much more than his good humor as he recovered in a hospital room, Nancy by his side. He thought about the others who were shot, most notably Press Secretary James Brady, a long time, loyal friend, who took a bullet in the head. His wound would alter his life forever. He thought about the confused, deranged young man who pulled the trigger. And ultimately, he prayed for him. He prayed for his forgiveness. He prayed for his healing.
When John F. Kennedy was brutally murdered in cold blood, the nation, shocked by a monumental wild card, suddenly and without warning found itself with the unwelcome assignment of planning an unexpected funeral for a fallen President. Not one government official had that contingency on his or her agenda, until the shots were fired. Mrs. Kennedy rallied to the cause. She sent an army of researchers into the library to recreate the Lincoln funeral and memorial. Much of today’s tradition comes from that research. Since that fateful day, Presidents, upon their arrival at the White House, have been asked to develop a plan for their own funeral. It’s a morbid, but mandatory requirement for newly elected Presidents. Reagan’s plan, much of it written years ago in that exercise in protocol, was unearthed for the event we witnessed this week.
In that plan, Ronald Reagan specifically asked that Margaret Thatcher be one of the eulogists. I don’t know that Reagan expected to live ninety three years. Because he did, Thatcher aged, too. This year, she’s been the victim of several minor strokes, and her doctors have advised her not to speak in public. But in anticipation of a request she wanted to honor, she arranged to video-tape a tribute to her friend and colleague in world affairs well in advance.
As she sat in the Cathedral, under a wide-brimmed, veiled black traditional British and matronly hat, just beside her former arch-rival Mikhail Gorbachev, the Iron Lady’s strong voice filled the room.
There’s a reason why the world is adopting English as a universal language. It’s not simply because America is the richest nation in the world and if you want to do business with the United States (and who doesn’t?) you ought to write your contracts and make your deals English. Go anywhere in the world today, and you’ll get by with your English. Why? I think the reason is deeper, more profound, than mere economics. It’s because English is the most subtle, adaptable, expressive language in all the world. Certainly, it has its rivals. But listen to Lady Thatcher. Listen to her describe her American friend in the tight phrases and metaphors and crafted word pictures, as she speaks the mother tongue all the splendor of centuries of tradition. The Bushes, both of them, and Reagan himself, spoke the American version. It works (worked) for them, and for me, too. But if you love language at all, you revel in the original.
Here are some of my favorite quotes from her eulogy –
In the terrible hours after the attempt on his life, his easy jokes gave reassurance to an anxious world. They were evidence that in the aftermath of terror and in the midst of hysteria, one great heart at least remained sane and jocular. They were truly grace under pressure.
He won the Cold War — not only without firing a shot, but also by inviting enemies out of their fortress and turning them into friends.
Ronald Reagan knew his own mind. He had firm principles — and, I believe, right ones. He expounded them clearly, he acted upon them decisively. When the world threw problems at the White House, he was not baffled, or disorientated, or overwhelmed. He knew almost instinctively what to do. When his aides were preparing option papers for his decision, they were able to cut out entire rafts of proposals that they knew 'the Old Man' would never wear.
With the lever of American patriotism, he lifted up the world.
I’m not so sure that the Archbishop of Canterbury would have approved of Reagan’s reference to “the Big Fella upstairs.” But Maggie Thatcher did. She understood that this Americanism was no sacrilege. Au contraire. It was a sincere reference to the God with whom Reagan had utmost respect and reverence, but also one with whom he enjoyed a personal relationship.
Like the Apostle Paul’s when he cried “Abba, Father.”
* * * * * *
It’s Monday morning. You are a leader.
As a leader, you’ve been watching and thinking too. You’ve witnessed the return of Ronald Reagan on the American consciousness, and you’ve witnessed, as I have, the powerful impact one man of winsome commitment can make on the course of human events. (I’ve only begun to write. If I had the time and money, I would take on the challenge of a book on this week’s events.) You’ve seen something of the genuineness, the charm, the personal charisma that can change hearts and draw others to what is good and right. You’ve seen how one can stand for principle and still approach others with respect and honor. You’ve watched how in grief, we can embrace the larger picture of eternity, and find hope.
There is a sadness in it all.
The sadness we feel as Nancy touches the smooth fabric of red and white stripes covering her husband’s coffin, kissing and bidding her love farewell. If you’ve known the pain of grief, you feel it, too. And something is triggered as Ron and Patti and Michael surround her with aching affection, and share her tears. But the sadness goes beyond grief.
It is the fear that leaders like this have been lost to us forever.
And maybe that’s it. Ronald Reagan’s final challenge to you and me.
Let’s aspire to it. This kind of leadership.
Let’s aim high.
You and me.
Posted in Valley Center, California
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2004
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