Sermon given by Aiden McMahon, November 17, 2024.

Fred Rogers’ widow, Joanne Rogers, once wrote that the three words she thought best described her husband were “courage, love, and discipline - perhaps in that very order.” When I first read that, I found it quite surprising, to be honest.  Surely love came first, right? But then I got to thinking about it.

Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood began in Canada in 1962, moving to the US in ‘66. I have watched episodes from those early days, and I have watched episodes from the ‘90s. Fred was always Fred. Authentically gentle and kind Mister Rogers, who loved his puppets, who wrote every song for the more 900 episodes of his program across nearly 40 years. 

The first ever sermon I ever delivered was on deconstructing what we now call “toxic masculinity,” and it was during this period that my interest in the life and work of Fred Rogers really blossomed. It’s hard for me to think of any man, at least a public one, who was more anti-machismo than Mister Rogers. It couldn’t have been any easier then than it is now. For this, and many other reasons, he is my inspiration and I believe every bit deserving of the title of Saint. 

And so, today, I want to tell you about the courage of Fred Rogers. 

Brené Brown, in her book “The Gift of Imperfection” describes courage this way: “The root of the word courage is cor – the Latin word for heart. In one of its earliest forms, the word courage had a very different definition than it does today. Courage originally meant "To speak one's mind by telling all one's heart."

Over time, this definition has changed, and today, courage is more synonymous with being heroic. Heroics is important and we certainly need heroes, but I think we've lost touch with the idea that speaking honestly and openly about who we are, about what we're feeling, and about our experiences (good and bad) is the definition of courage.

Heroics is often about putting our life on the line. Ordinary courage is about putting our vulnerability on the line. In today's world that's pretty extraordinary.”

I wonder if that’s why we sometimes tell people to “take heart,” when we are trying to Encourage them. Today I’m going to tell some stories about the life of Fred McFeely Rogers. I hope they can help you Take Heart this morning; I know many of us are looking for courage right now.

On May 1, 1969, Fred Rogers appeared before the Senate Subcommittee on Communications. Perhaps you’ve seen the video, and if you haven’t, please go watch it after this because I will not do it justice. It’s gone viral several times in the last decade so you should have no issue finding it.

President Nixon had suggested cutting the grant to PBS in half from $20 million to 10, in order to direct more money to the Vietnam War effort. The person in charge of this committee tasked with deciding where to cut funding was Rhode Island Senator John Pastore, a man who had a reputation for being, and I quote, “gruff and impatient.”

When given the floor to speak, Rogers does something remarkable. He sets aside his prepared statement. In what can only be called a rhetorical masterstroke, he appears to speak completely from the heart. Noting that one of the most important early lessons a child learns is Trust, he then says that he trusts that the Senator would read it. 

What a remarkable act of building empathy! To say to someone who is holding your life’s work in their hands that you trust them. I don’t know that I would have that same confidence.

Though it’s very likely Rogers wasn’t all too confident, either. Biographer Maxwell King writes of Fred that he was, unsurprisingly, incredibly nervous prior to the hearing, and emotionally spent afterwards, though I certainly can’t see any of it in the video. 

Instead, we see Mister Rogers. Or, more accurately, we see that Fred Rogers and Mister Rogers are the same person. He speaks to Senator Pastore the same way he speaks to his television neighbors, with measured, thoughtful words, and a deep respect for his inherent worth and goodness. 

Rogers goes on to talk about what he calls “the inner drama of childhood,” everything from getting a haircut to feeling angry with family members. In his remarks, he refers to one of his core beliefs - that anything mentionable is manageable. Pastore responds “I’m supposed to be a pretty tough guy, and this is the first time that I’ve had goosebumps in the last two days.” 

And how does Mister Rogers respond?

“I’m grateful for your goosebumps.” 

He responds with Gratitude. 

Rogers closes his time with the words to his song, “What Do You Do with the Mad that You Feel?” And again, I hope you will go watch this video if you haven’t seen it. 

Pastore, visibly affected, promises that PBS can keep all $20 million. 

Before I go any further, I have to make an apology. If you’ve seen the recent biopic about Fred starring Tom Hanks, you might recall Joanne Rogers saying to the other main character, a fictionalized version of journalist Tom Junod, “Don’t call Fred a saint.” Yet here I am. She said this because in her mind, a Saint is someone for whom holiness comes naturally. “Fred worked very hard at his ministry,” she added in an interview about the time the movie came out. There’s that discipline she mentioned.

Last week, Frank said that Saints are people who are willing to reach down into the muck of life. They’re not afraid of a little dirt. And I will add to that idea. I believe that Saints do the things people fear, those things we consider risky or inappropriate or unclean and in doing so, show those ideas to be foolish.

Just 8 days after appearing before congress, Mister Rogers did another courageous thing. 

On May 9th, 1969, an episode premiered in which Mister Rogers and cast member François Clemmons, a Black, Gay man, cooled their feet together in a small plastic pool. 

Clemmons’ character - who was the Neighborhood police officer - initially refused because he didn’t have a towel with him. Rogers offers to share his. Clemmons dried his feet first, and then Fred used it after.

Just two neighbors, relaxing together. 

François Clemmons would remain a cast member for another 24 years, and on his last day, in 1993, the two men recreated the scene. This time, however,  instead of merely chatting, Clemmons (who is a trained opera singer), sang one of Fred’s songs to him - “There are Many Ways to Say I Love You.” 

As the scene ends, and the two men exchange another round of I Love You’s, one other thing changes in this recreation. Instead of Fred giving François his towel to use, Mister Rogers kneels down, and dries his feet for him. 

Fred Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian minister, so he was certainly aware of the symbolism of that act, and of Jesus’ commandment to replicate it, just as he was certainly aware of the symbolism of sharing a pool with a person of color in 1969, when most of the public pools in the country were still segregated.  

As hard as I’ve looked, I can’t seem to spot any dirt in the pool. And that, I suspect, is very much the point. I do think, however, that something was cleansed in that moment, in the hearts of viewers.  Decades later, Clemmons would say in an interview that, "I carried the hope inside of me that, one day, the world would change. And I do feel that the world still has not totally changed, but it is changing. We're getting there."

We haven’t gotten there yet. If anything, it feels like we’re losing much of the progress we’ve made. 

Having that hope, though, might just be the most courageous act of all, and I mean both kinds of courageous. 

Our reading for today ended with these words: “When I say it’s you I like, I’m talking about that part of you that knows that life is far more than anything you can ever see, or hear, or touch. That deep part of you, that allows you to stand for those things, without which humankind cannot survive. Love that conquers hate. Peace that rises triumphant over war. And justice that proves more powerful than greed.”

Hope doesn’t just imagine a better world - that’s idealism. Hope works for a better world. Implicit in hope is critique, and as the saying goes, “the best critique of the bad is the practice of the better.” 

For Fred Rogers, the practice of the better was a courageous authenticity.

Maxwell King, the biographer whom I mentioned earlier, at one point quotes one of Fred’s sermons about the character of Jesus. 

“You see, I believe that Jesus gave us an eternal truth about the universality of feelings. Jesus was truthful about his feelings: Jesus wept; he got sad; Jesus got discouraged; he got scared; and he reveled in things that pleased him. For Jesus, the greatest sin was hypocrisy.” 

Not that I think Fred judged anyone too harshly for being unable to access their honest feelings. He knew that shame, which often had its roots in childhood, was a poor tool for creating meaningful change, and was often the cause of that inability in the first place. 

And so, instead of shaming people, Fred spoke to the child within them. What’s more, he modeled how to do and say those hard things. Remember, whatever is mentionable is manageable. 

One final thought before we close.

It seems to me that none of Fred’s words have been more often repeated as of late than “Look for the Helpers.” 

I think a lot of us are looking for the helpers right now. It’s courageous to admit when you need that help.

But we also need to be the helpers right now. 

We need to speak for those with no voice.

We need to sit or stand or march side by side with those whose rights are threatened. 

And perhaps, most challenging of all, we need to do so while remembering that those who would do harm have often been deeply harmed themselves. 

Take heart, beloveds. We are not alone in this. We are the neighborhood.