This is not really a political entry. It's simply that this is one of those entries that have been sitting on my brain for the better part of a year now, mostly because I found it difficult to put into words something that I felt was truly wonderful. Earlier this year it seemed even more important to put this down, but given the circumstances I was, frankly, in no condition to make any kind of entry. Now that we are coming up on Mother's Day, I think that I should make some kind of effort to show just what kind of person my mother, Alexis Jean Davis, was. My mother passed away this past January, and while the incidents I'm writing about happened last summer, I think now would be as good a time as any to pay tribute to the woman who throughout her life showed me what REAL Christianity looks like.
As I mentioned, this happened one day last summer (2014). My mother suffered from COPD and congestive heart failure. As a result it was rather difficult for her to get around, so I was sort of her chauffeur when ever she needed to run errands. This particular day, she needed me to run her to the bank to take care of some financial issues. My sister went with us and we sort of made a day of it. At the bank, as we were waiting for one of their counselors to see us, she spotted a woman who looked rather down. This wasn't someone she knew, just a stranger. So being the person she is, my mother went over and spoke to her. It turned out that the woman was going through some financial issues of her own, rather serious from the conversation. Now my mother wasn't rich. Like most her age she was on a fixed income which barely allowed her to make ends meet, so it wasn't like she could do anything tangible to help the woman. But what she did do seem to produce a remarkable reaction. She prayed with the woman, and how that seemed to lighten the woman's heart, just having someone care and listen and pray for her, was incredible. Because my mother put aside her own troubles for a moment and prayed for someone else, a woman who was near tears moments ago now had the strength to face what she had to. Granted, it wasn't like my mother touched her and healed her of cancer or something, but for that woman the blessing may have been just as great.
After the bank we all went to lunch at a small café in the Chestnut Hill section of the city. Throughout the meal the conversation ran the course of most family conversations. Who's doing what, what the kids and grandkids are doing, etc. etc. During the conversation, we happened to hear a mother-daughter (I'm assuming) discussing their faith. Now I try to avoid such discussions myself, not because I'm agnostic, or atheist or anything -- I wholeheartedly believe in the existence of God and Jesus Christ -- but because (perhaps as a result of being Gay) my religious views tend to differ from those of my family, my mother in particular. So to avoid unnecessary argument, I keep those views to myself. But I digress.
As we're leaving the restaurant, my mother stops and has a word with the mother-daughter couple. They both get to discussing their faith, and some of the differences in their worship (my mother being Baptist, the woman being Catholic), but also finding comfort in what they both have in common. It wasn't one of those "God, guns, and Gays" type conversations had among the fake-Christians on the right. It was really about their relationship with Christ. Now I have to be honest here. Whenever discussions turn towards things like faith, religion, etc., I usually find myself looking for the door marked "Exit". But one thing about my mother was that she never passed up an opportunity to discuss her faith, even with a stranger, and it was striking how the conversation seemed so uplifting for the both of them. It certainly put a smile on my face as well, seeing my mother so happy being out with her children, and having such a wonderful conversation.
After the restaurant my mother needed to pick up a few things from the local Family Dollar store. Now if you've ever gone shopping with your mother, I don't have to tell you how these things can swing between mind-numbingly boring (at best) and rage-inducing frustration. Fortunately over the years I've built up quite a tolerance to these things, so I just smile sweetly and play the dutiful son helping his mother run her errands. Anyhow, the affair went pretty much without incident until we get to the checkout line. There she sees a man who is suffering from what I believe was Parkinson's disease, with whom I assume was his caretaker. The two of them end up two behind us in the checkout line. Now here's where my mother, whom I loved dearly, did something that probably should have produced at least a mild "WTF", but then you'd have to know my mother. This is someone who would freely give a dollar to any panhandler on the street, knowing full well that it would end up in the cash register of the closest liquor store. Anyway, she pays for the Parkinson's guys' order. And because there was another guy between us, she pays his order as well. Understand, my mother was on a fixed income, and I and my siblings routinely had to chip in to make sure she had enough to buy her own groceries. Yet, with no thought to her own needs, she decides to help out a person that the fake Tea Party Christians would call "moocher", "freeloader", "lazy", or "welfare cheat", in an act that they would decry as "Socialism". I don't think I've ever felt prouder of the woman who taught me the meaning of charitable giving than I did at that moment.
My mother joined her church in '98, and like most her age it wasn't the first time she was what we call "saved" (this was just the time it took). She was a member of several ministries, including the prison ministry where they went to various facilities across the state and ministered to inmates, You know, those thugs and criminals that, according to the fake Christians on the right, are destroying this country (along with the immigrants, the Gays, the Muslims, Obama, etc.). One of the prisons they covered was the Federal Detention Center here in Philly, and I'm told one of the inmates she ministered to was rapper Lil' Kim.
This is starting to get a bit longish. I guess the point I'm trying to make is that my mother didn't use her faith as a conduit through which to vent her hatred of whatever group pissed her off. She didn't use the Bible as a weapon to win arguments, or as justification for her prejudices. She practiced her faith by helping the people that fake-Christians deem unworthy of God's kingdom (you know, kinda like Jesus Christ did, which explains the Christ part of Christian). She didn't look down her nose at them. She didn't judge them. And while I'm pretty sure she was never really thrilled at my being Gay, I never once heard a harsh judgment or hateful word from her about it. She supported me as she did all of her children, and I like to think that that love and support was always retuned in kind.
My mother passed away earlier this past January. Needless to say, I and my siblings, her grandchildren, and great-grandchildren miss her terribly. But there is one think that does my heart good to know. My mother is in heaven now. And I can assure you that she will NEVER encounter the likes of people like Pat Robertson, Mike Huckabee, Bryan Fischer, and all the other fake-Christians who use their "religion" as an excuse to spread hatred and judgment to those who don't think like them. I've never been inclined to join a church, despite my mother's insistent urgings. However, it was from my mother that I came to realize that true Christianity doesn't manifest itself in hatred, but in love and caring, and healing. While I am sad at the thought of celebrating this first Mother's Day without my mother, I am happy that she left me this piece of knowledge and blessed assurance. I can truly say that in my heart, and in the hearts of the rest of her children, her grandchildren, and her great grandchildren, THIS is what true Christianity looks like.
My mother (the one in the middle), Alexis Jean Davis. 1945 - 2015