Today is the beginning of the Western Christian Calendar or the first Sunday in Advent. The time of waiting, the anticipation of the birth of the Christ child. Every time we arrive at this point and time in the seasonal calendar memories of one very important man in my life floods over me like waves in the ocean.

The approaching Christmas season is not one of anticipation for myself personally. I find the overzealous commercialism of the season gluttonous. For a nation built on faith (according to Christian Nationalists) they sure love to compete with each other like good greedy capitalists do. Despite this, the lessons of humility, grace, and forgiveness I learned from the righteous man grip me tighter.

The righteous man I write about is my middle school bible class teacher. I will never forget when he walked into my Missouri Synod Lutheran Church for the first time. I was 10-11 years of age. He came in with his wife, and baby. They would soon have six children before I graduated from high school. When they entered a stir rose within the congregation. I was too naive to really understand what was going on. That Sunday morning our congregation became more diverse. An African-American man (far more righteous than anyone in our congregation) entered my life.

The stir in the congregation was one of passive racism. I wasn’t aware of this until my later teens. As I grew older and I reflect on it, I’m not sure how this righteous man and his white wife handled the situation with such grace. Over the next few months I looked forward to seeing them enter the church and sit in the back right side. We sat on the far right behind the organ. My music teacher was our organist and I enjoyed singing the hymns. During our church socials there were a few people that spoke to the righteous man, but one day my dad walked over with my brother and I and he forged a loving friendship with the righteous man. It was a day that changed my life forever.

The righteous man has a name. His children are still alive. His wife divorced him many years later, but in my mind he is still the most righteous man I have ever met. He has more grace and righteousness than any of the clergy I had at this church. I don’t know how he did it. His depth of humanism and faith deserves a name, but out of respect for him and his family, I will simply refer to him as the righteous man. I do not wish to violate anyone’s privacy… (edit: I just discovered that the righteous man passed away in September of this year.)

My father taught the high school bible class. He loved the history of the bible, and digging into the metaphors of the lessons as a spiritual guide, not as a literal guide. He encouraged the righteous man to become the middle school bible class teacher when the opening came about. I was lucky enough to be in that class. There were seven of us in that seventh grade class, if memory serves me. We all benefitted from his righteousness from his enlightened lessons, but also his strength and passion for all those that he loved.

Over the next two years on Sunday the righteous man shared with us the lessons of the bible in the kindest way I ever experienced. His faith was all about: service, selflessness, forgiveness, love, respect, and humility. Everything from the metaphors in the New Testament revolved around the aspects of Christian kindness, humanism, and not once did he ever talk about race with 14-20 white kids he taught. He let the passive racism just wash right off from the congregation and a few of my classmates. He forgave them, like Christ did on the cross. “They do not know what they do.” When the righteous man spoke those words from the Beck edition of the bible he spoke them in first person as well as with the bible… I’m not sure my classmates felt it, but I did.

The righteous man and my father became good friends. My brother and I delivered the newspaper to their home for several years. I listened intently to the righteous man and my father as they discussed a number of topics over a malted beverage. I’m glad my father broke the ice with the righteous man that day all of those years ago. I would not be who I am as a teacher or humanist without this righteous man in my life. Thanks Dad!

I consider myself lucky to have had the righteous man in my life. I moved away to attend university and acquired my music education degree with the naive struggle of a blue collar kid at a prestigious little college. I grew from that naivety, ignorance, arrogance, and continue to grow. The lessons I learned from my father and the righteous man still serve me as an educator: service, selflessness, forgiveness, love, respect, and humility. Humility is the toughest one to accomplish. Pride is a dangerous thing. They also taught me one other important lesson. Never expect a thank you or a reward for your work. Be thankful with the work itself. Learn to be gratified by the work itself.

The righteous man’s humility was his greatest life lesson. I don’t know if he really understands the impact he had on his students. His faith, his understanding of Christianity, is by far the most wholesome Christianity I ever experienced. Despite losing my religion, my faith is rooted to these invaluable lessons by the righteous man. A righteous man without a seminary degree. A righteous man of great imperfection. A humble man who worked hard for his family. An African-American man who faced every passive racist in our congregation with the grace and kindness of Christ himself. <— A lesson for all.

As much as I dissent the Nationalist state of Christianity, the righteous man helps me hang on to my faith that someday through: service, selflessness, forgiveness, love, respect, and humility the lambs will find their way back to the shepherd….

Dear righteous man, thanks so much for being part of my life. I am forever in your debt… for all the lessons… may you find grace and peace… wherever you are… as our lives moves on…