ted lasso and john lewis

To hear Brandi read this week’s essay, click here: https://youtu.be/_N6O2z0tFtw

On Saturday, the city of Nashville renamed Fifth Avenue Rep. John Lewis Way. The street runs through the heart of downtown, bordering the best of Nashville’s musical roots, the Predators’ arena, the Music City Center, the Sounds’ stadium, and other places of power and entertainment. Although Lewis grew up in and faithfully served Georgia in Congress for decades, he came to Nashville for his college education. Nashville’s Black church leaders mentored him, and taught him that the way of Christ is a path that seeks restorative justice for others with relentlessly nonviolent, prophetic bodily resistance. He went on to embody such work as he was arrested integrating Nashville’s Woolworth’s lunch counter (on 5th Avenue, no less), and as he was badly beaten marching with Dr. King across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama. As a college kid, he learned from his elders, and then went on to teach all of us a new way.

At the ceremony this weekend, a Blues singer from North Nashville sang a tribute she wrote last spring after George Floyd was murdered. In the chorus, she named the fact that a lot of us are weary. I’ve only been in the work for justice and equity for a decade, and some days I feel bone tired. I listened to her words, surrounded by older sisters and brothers who had given their lives to the movement for expanded civil and human rights. They are weary. She sang, “If your feet are tired of walking, let the children lead the way.”

Prophetic words. If you are tired, look around. We are surrounded by young people who are ready to pick up the torch. They see the world differently than we do and they can offer solutions that we struggle to find.

Good leadership does not align with hoarding power or knowledge, but requires us to be learners at the feet of others, giving them the space and influence to shape our next steps.

After the new sign bearing John Lewis Way was revealed, a parade began, pulsing with Black joy and dignity. While city elders and members of the Lewis family rode in carts, a professional New Orleans-style street band played and sang, dancers leading the way out front. It was a gorgeous sensory overload of awesome. Halfway down the march route, there was a group of young teenagers lined up, proudly wearing their Pearl-Cohn High School Firebirds gear. A small group of dancers and a drumline, they waited for the dignitaries to approach. The march paused as the drums began and the dancers performed. They were excellent. Slowly, the professionals from the official march broke ranks and drew near, shouting out encouragement, praising these young folks who carried on their tradition. Slowly, a few of them moved into line, joining the High School drum line, while taking care to follow the lead of the teenagers beside them. The young people began to stand a little taller, strike a little stronger, smiles spreading across their faces. The professional musicians gave their public blessing to these fabulous young people, simultaneously showing them the way while also welcoming them into the fold.

They made it clear that presence of young folk was needed, that the torch could be passed, that the work will continue in the capable of hands of this new generation.

If you know me, you know I was right up in the mix, tapping my foot and crying my eyes out. Public displays of courage, excellence, empathy and blessing make me weep.

John Lewis made his mark on America when he was just a kid. His career notwithstanding, he helped awaken the moral conscience of our city and then the Nation before he was old enough to rent a car. Young people have a lot to teach us, if we will only listen. Some of us middle and elderly aged folk feel overwhelmed by the changes to our social order. We feel displaced and lost, unsure of what normal looks like, uncertain of how secure or powerful we will be in this brave new world. As we navigate our own discomfort, let’s take care not to poison our kids. Instead of telling them how to feel about the changes in politics and power dynamics, let’s ask them what they notice and how they feel about it.

We might be working hard to save a world order for our kids that they do not want.

Some of us welcome the sharing of power and the disruption that brings, but feel weary at the relentless nature of the work. We aren’t sure that our tactics are effective anymore, and we waiver between hope and despair. As we navigate our own cynicism, let’s take care not to ignore the creative hope our kids offer. Instead of telling them who to blame or how to feel about differing political positions, let’s ask them what they notice and what they want to do about it.

Whether the push for equity and universal dignity make you exhausted (but hopeful) or nervous (and vulnerable), let the children lead the way. Look to our youth, honoring their effort, welcoming them to the table, and following their lead.

On a less serious note, and because season 2 of Ted Lasso comes out this week, we could also look to Apple TV for notes on how to expand our us.

The world has gone crazy for Ted Lasso. I am here for it. One of my sisters is often my portal to pop culture, and I think she actually built and starting driving the Ted Lasso bandwagon. She got my siblings and me on board early in the pandemic, and Ted’s infectious hope and way of seeing the human beings hiding underneath the people around him has raised the bar for how we live together.

Since she is a media oracle, I finally obeyed her order to watch Mythic Quest. The show did not look appealing to me. I am neither a video gamer nor a technology and coding enthusiast, so I’ve been dragging my feet for a year. Now that I’ve starting watching, I’ll just say that it is always best to do what the oracle tells you to do.

Between the 2 seasons of Mythic Quest, there is an interstitial episode that is part fantasy, part reality. The mythical moment rips off the Sword and the Stone, Harry Potter, animated Robin Hood and the Bible. It is fabulous. Despair has taken over the village, and the King holds a tournament to foster good will and to maybe find the one figure worthy of pulling the Sword of Light from the tree in which it is embedded, thereby restoring hope to the kingdom. The narration reads thus:

“The smallest of them all was destined to prevail. And though he was beaten, he did not break, refusing to give in, he rose and rose and rose again, fueled by a belief no blow could extinguish. With each act of bravery, the people began to believe as well, until at last they cheered his victory. The resilient champion had broken the curse and freed the sword. The people of the kingdom—young and old—learned that day that to dispel the darkness, we must only believe in the light.”

Pay attention to the magical young bearers of light around you. They need our blessing, and they can show us a new way forward.