Courage In A Cardigan
- Rebecca Burnham
- Apr 16
- 7 min read
If I were to ask 30 people to make a short list of courageous citizens from the 1960s, I imagine the name of Martin Luther King Jr. would show up on every list. Rosa Parks might be close behind. I might see some of the Freedom Riders, the “Fearless 11”, and the Greensboro Four. Little Ruby Bridges, who was just 6 years old when she walked through hostile crowds every day to desegregate an all-white elementary school, might also be prominently featured. Each of these appeared when I asked Google for such a list. And they all fully earned their place on it. They each put themselves in harm’s way in a successful bid to extend civil rights to millions.
But there’s another name I’d add to that list, which Google overlooked. It’s a reasonable oversight because “citizen” is by definition, a political word, and this citizen was far less active in politics per se. He was a gifted composer, a creator of many 30-minute operas, a storyteller and puppeteer. He was a Presbyterian minister without a traditional pulpit. He gave speeches that altered public policy without ever displaying any partisanship. He taught three generations of Americans what a beloved community looked like and why you would want to live there. The model community he offered us was Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. Fred Rogers’ impact on America would be hard to quantify, but it continues to brighten our prospects for successful self-government today.
Was he courageous in his citizenship? Indisputably so. He stuck out his neck for his neighbors in ways that seem almost shocking when we look back on them, especially in light of what else was going on at the time. Yet, he managed to win far more friends than enemies while fostering courageous citizenship in generations of children.
His goal transcended politics. It was to blanket the world with charis, a Greek term that roughly translates as “grace.” He kept the word charis in a frame on his wall and that’s what led him to become a children’s entertainer. He’d been preparing to take up a pulpit in a Presbyterian church when he first saw a television program that happened to feature people throwing pies in each other’s faces. He was struck with the waste of potential. “Why… couldn’t we use this thing called television for the broadcasting of grace through the land?” he wondered. And that fast, he changed career plans.
Charis refers to a loving kindness that is merciful and given freely, without having to be earned by the recipient. It’s the New Testament term for God’s merciful love, favor and sustaining power offered to humans. While the concept of charis is deeply grounded in religion, it has profound political implications because grace nurtures a sustainable, self-governing community. It is extended to all, not distinguishing between friend and foe. It gives us the will to make personal sacrifices for the good of our loved ones, our neighbors, our future posterity, and the stranger halfway across the continent that we might never meet. A generation that is raised in charis is a generation that can build and maintain what Martin Luther King aimed for and described as the Beloved Community.
For decades, Fred was on a mission to acquaint and secure the rising generation with that grace. (Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood aired nationally in the United States from 1968-2001. There were several precursors that aired locally, in addition to Misterogers, a Canadian national broadcast from 1962-1963). His focus was on the individual child on the other side of the television screen. He knew there would be many children, but he spoke as if to just one, whichever one most needed the connection he was offering – male or female, black or white, struggling with any number of hardships. He wanted each one of those children to know that they “are loved and capable of loving.” Sometimes, that goal collided spectacularly with rancorous political issues around what sort of people were allowed to associate with each other. When that happened, Fred anchored into charis and plowed on through.
There’s no more famous example of his doing that than the May 9, 1969 episode when he invited Officer Clemmons to join him for a relaxing footbath in a small wading pool. To put that moment into context, we need to revisit some painful history. Even after Brown vs Board of Education outlawed racial segregation in public schools, swimming pools remained segregated. In 1963, a federal judge ruled that, as a public body, the City of Jackson Mississippi could not discriminate against black swimmers. Jackson promptly closed four of its five pools and turned the fifth over to the YMCA, which kept it segregated.
Interracial swimming remained a political hot button, with the battle moving to private pools. In 1964, seven men (five black and two white) staged a “dive-in” by jumping together into a motel pool in St Augustine, Florida. The motel manager rushed over with a bottle of muriatic acid (a cleaning agent) which he poured into the water, but the swimmers were undeterred and refused to leave until a white police officer jumped in and arrested them. As they left the pool, they were clubbed by police officers, roughed up, and then taken to jail.
Four years later, Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. And just one year after that, Mister Rogers sat bathing his feet on national public television when Officer Clemmons happened by. The actor’s real name was François Clemmons. He was an opera singer who was one of the first African Americans to have a recurring role on a US children’s television show. And here he was, playing a police officer in 1969, when black police officers were rare. The role was difficult for him, because his own experience in the inner city had taught him to mistrust and avoid police officers. But he had come to trust Fred, who was intentionally countering racial bias with messages of inclusion.
Fred was introducing viewers to a world where everyone belonged and no-one was an enemy. Even the authoritarian King Friday XIII was a growing character to be loved rather than a tyrant to be overthrown. Neighbors of all kinds took turns “struggling” and “helping” their neighbors. The show didn’t feature villains, but people of all sorts growing together.
François knew that Fred was planning to tackle the issue of racial equality. He expected something that was blatantly political, maybe a discussion about Martin Luther King or even a calling out the segregationists. But in a 2020 radio interview, he recalls that Fred did none of that. “He said, 'Come, come sit with me.' And he said, 'You can share my towel… those were powerful words! It was transformative to sit there with him, thinking to myself, 'Oh, something wonderful is happening here. This is not what it looks like. It's much bigger.''”
The consequences for so bold a statement of equality on national television in that moment could have been painful for Fred. Certainly, he risked offending a huge segment of his audience. If the backlash were strong, it could even threaten his program, which had just begun its second year. But that didn’t happen. In fact, I have searched in vain for any examples of backlash. Instead, the warm and quiet demonstration that we are all equally neighbors reached hearts that had been hardened against protestors.
François relates that people all over the country have told him what that moment meant to them. One of those conversations became unforgettable. “[The former viewer] said to me, ‘When that program came on, we were actually discussing [whether] black people were inferior. And Mister Rogers cut right through it,’ he said. And he said essentially that scene ended that argument.”
Fred Rogers used his enormous gifts as a composer, storyteller, and gracious entertainer in a way that taught three generations of children to be courageous citizens. He did it without ever using divisive or shaming language. He did it while affirming that he wants us each as his neighbor, even when we sometimes struggle with our anger or do hurtful things. His approach reached people who already agreed, and others who might not be reachable any other way.
That legacy is why Summit Stages is going to the Braver Angels National Convention in Philadelphia this June. Braver Angels is a national US organization with a mission to help us rediscover our neighbors in the people with whom we disagree. It’s a place where people are not just welcome but encouraged to bring their whole selves to the party, to share their views without fear, while listening with open hearts to each other. It’s a space that is increasingly using the performing arts to build connections across areas of division. There’s just one problem: many of the performing arts have become dominated by one side of the red-blue divide. And it’s difficult to build a bridge across a divide if only one side shows up.
The convention theme this year is courageous citizenship. We’re going in order to learn how to practice courage like Fred Rogers in a field that brims with promise for building the Beloved Community together. As members of the Braver Network and supporting partners for the convention, we’ve been gifted 100 free Braver Angels memberships to share with you. You can claim yours at this link. (You don’t have to be a US citizen or resident to join. While Braver Angels focuses on US divides, I’ve found that the principles they are anchored in and the skills they teach apply equally where I live in Canada).
Once you’re in, you have access to a multitude of free trainings and events, including national debates about difficult topics that are conducted with refreshing courtesy. You can take a free e-course on such topics as “Skills for Bridging the Divide” (to help you have connective conversations across political differences) or “Families and Politics” (to help when political differences begin to fray family togetherness). Among my favorites of new offerings is the Depolarization Dojo, where you can practice having conversations with “Personas” that disagree with you, while receiving helpful coaching to build your conversational skills.
Please also consider joining us at the convention, where you are needed and where you will be surrounded by people who are eager to courageously connect so we can build the Beloved Community together. Because of the need for a balance of perspectives, you’ll need to apply to be a delegate at this link. When you do, click that you are applying with a Braver Network organization and type in Summit Stages. Then select that Summit Stages is a supporting partner. That will make your application a priority.
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