Rev. Fred Rogers, minister to children
Mister Rogers convinced the Presbyterian hierarchy that children’s television was a ministry eligible for ordination. He then nourished a troubled nation, much like the one we have today, recalls CHRISTINE CHAKOIAN of the Pittsburgh Theological Seminary
Fred Rogers is deservedly beloved, but who would have guessed that a documentary about him would become a Top 10 box office hit of the summer? In any other year, the winners would almost exclusively feature action heroes, sultry romance or a dystopian apocalypse. So why Mister Rogers, and why now?
It’s striking how our country is at a very similar place as we were in 1968 when Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood launched. Then, as now, civil discourse was rare, racial tensions were fraught, and political tribes were deeply divided. Families, friends and neighbors stopped talking to each other over issues of the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights movement and even rock music. Those of us who lived through that era remember how shocking it felt to witness unmitigated bullying and unconstrained coarseness flagrantly used to fan the flames of division. It feels eerily similar today.
Into that world stepped Fred Rogers. A graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, he managed to convince the Presbyterian powers-that-be that children’s television was a legitimate ministry, eligible for ordination. Instead of donning a robe, Rev. Rogers put on a sweater. Instead of preaching a sermon, he conversed with children. Instead of mounting a pulpit, he faced a TV camera. But it was a ministry: Each day, prior to taping, he would quietly lift up his prayer of invocation, “Dear God, let some word that is heard this day be Yours.”
Fred did not overtly quote from Scripture, but he conveyed Jesus’
teaching in subtle (and not-sosubtle) ways. He enthusiastically welcomed the little children (Matthew 19:14). He taught forgiveness, of oneself, of one’s debtors and of one’s enemies (John 8:11; Matthew 6:12; Matthew 5:33-34). And every time Fred Rogers sang, “Won’t you be my neighbor,” he embodied Christ’s command to love one’s neighbor as oneself (Matthew 19:19).
Perhaps even more impressively, Fred did not shun conflict; he broached difficult topics with straightforwardness, making room for children (and adults) to claim their feelings and own their differences. He addressed such subjects as assassination in the aftermath of Robert Kennedy’s death. He exemplified racial equality — sharing the cool waters of a pool with Officer Clemmons when blacks and whites were not allowed to swim together in many quarters. At a time when the disabled were often hidden away, he chatted on camera with Jeffrey Erlanger, a quadriplegic boy confined to a wheelchair; even the boy’s mother was astonished when her son sang along with Fred.
What difference did any of this make? At a time of nastiness, it reminded us of the power of kindness. In a season of vitriol, it taught us the value of respect. When the world seemed so fragile, it could cave under the weight of hatred, it lifted our eyes to the power of love.
Once, when he was asked about his calling, Fred Rogers recalled the impact of Pittsburgh Seminary professor William Orr: “He was a great influence on many of our lives. Not just because he was brilliant. He was the kind of person who would go out on a winter’s day for lunch and come back without his overcoat.”
One Sunday, after visiting Dr. Orr at a nursing home (which Fred and his wife did every week), after singing the hymn “A Mighty Fortress is Our God,” Fred asked him about the verse that included “the prince of darkness grim.”
Fred recalled: “‘What is that one thing that would wipe out evil?’ Dr. Orr said, ‘Evil simply disintegrates in the presence of forgiveness. When you look with accusing eyes at your neighbor, that is what evil would want, because the more [Satan] can spread the accusing spirit, the greater evil spreads. On the other hand, if you can look with the eyes of the Advocate on your neighbor, those are the eyes of Jesus.’ I’ve never forgotten that.”
We at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary hope we never forget that, too. It was a powerful message in the upheaval of 1968, and it is no less urgent in these times. Which is why we still teach the power of God’s compassion for the world … the value of kindness in the face of pain … the simple invitation to love our neighbors as ourselves.