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4Apr

By THEIRL1ADMIN01No Comments

Journalism

Don’t Listen To The Sanitized Version Of History – Jackie Robinson Was A Radical

In our new book, “Baseball Rebels: The Players, People, and Social Movements That Shook Up the Game and Changed America,” Rob Elias and I profile the many iconoclasts, dissenters and mavericks who defied baseball’s and society’s establishment. But none took as many risks – and had as big an impact – as Jackie Robinson. Though Robinson was a fierce competitor, an outstanding athlete and a deeply religious man, the aspect of his legacy that often gets glossed over is that he was also a radical. The sanitized version of the Jackie Robinson story goes something like this: He was a remarkable athlete who, with his unusual level of self-control, was the perfect person to break baseball’s color line. In the face of jeers and taunts, he was able to put his head down and let his play do the talki...

Listen to Me – Do As I Say, Not As I Do

In many synagogues of Jesus' time, a stone seat at the front of the building provided the first century equivalent of a pulpit. It was the place where the authorized successors of Moses would sit and teach the congregation. Jesus told His listeners that they should heed what these teachers said about the Law of Moses, but not the latter, rabbinic additions to the law. They were not to mimic the actions of these teachers. Hearing the truth from repulsive people isn't easy. We must listen to them because the truth is the truth, and Jesus said to heed it. If the messenger turns you off, do not let him or her turn you off from the message. To alter a popular phrase, if you don't like the messenger, don't shoot the message. This passage shows the contrasting styles of leadership of the Pharis...

Listen to the Silence

As the number of unarmed black men killed by law enforcement officers increase, I am struck by the silence of my white friends. I am left with feelings of incomprehension.The anger that rises up in me from the worry and concern for my 18 year old grandson in particular, my younger grandsons, my nephews, cousins, friends, and every black male in America takes away my aliveness. There is a knot in my stomach on a daily basis. The worry; concern; the fear. I get angry by the realization that the color of my skin makes me a potential target. I get angry because all the warriors on whose shoulders I stand, gave their lives in vain. I get tired as I bear the burden of my race, this country and the institutional ways in which we black people are marginalized. I get angry when the non-conversation...