KEITH C. BURRIS WRITES ABOUT THE MIGHTY LITTLE NUN BEHIND THE DESK
Ihave been thinking about two people with not a lot in common. One is the old comic Rodney Dangerfield, now many years dead.
I don’t think his career would have launched in current times. He was a homely fellow, with a fast cadence and a unique set of gestures. He told jokes that were corny and, by today’s standards, politically incorrect. But the jokes weren’t really the point. As with Jack Benny, it was the big joke that mattered — the character he created. Dangerfield’s character was a guy who couldn’t get a break; a guy who, in his signature phrase, could get “no respect … no respect at all.” His only weapon, and his only comfort, was to tell the story of his constant failure.
The other person I have been thinking about was the principal of my school when I was in first grade — a combined Catholic grade and high school. Her name wasSister Pulcheria.
That’s a name you don’t run intoevery day.
Pulcheria, her namesake, was an empress, and a wily politician, who twice served as regent of the Roman Empire during and after the reign of her brother Theodosius, somewhere in the vicinity of A.D. 415 and 453. Her second turn in power was a return from exile, which had been imposed by her brother, allegedly at the insistence of his wife.
Pulcheria was also a devout Christian who built churches, hospices and a university and left her possessions to the poor when shedied. She is considered a saint.
The Pulcheria I knew, the school principal who took the name of the empress, was about 4 foot, 2 inches in height and must have weighed about 90 pounds withher full Dominican habit on.
But she, too, was a master of the practical world and a woman of deepdevotion.
She was a tiny, mighty force and she cast an intimidating shadow.
I did not, as a first grader, travel in Sister Pulcheria’s circles. I had onlyone direct encounter with her. Butit is vivid in memory. My teacher, Sister Mary Lois (she is her own story), needed to send an official document of some kind to the principal’s office, and I was the courier. This was a good gig. You got to escape the classroom for a few moments and even leave the building and go to another one. The principal’s office was in the larger high school building,next door.
When I arrived at her office, Sister Pulcheria was behind her desk, in an inner office, in conferencewith a student. Thedoor was open.
I waited, at attention, in the outer office.
What I saw and heard was a jumbo-sized high school lad sitting with his head in his hands, between his knees. He seemed almost physically sick. Hewas apologizing. Profusely. He had acted up in class. And now he was being called on it, and experiencing that rarest of things forour times — shame.
An actual hair shirt would have been preferable, I am sure, to having his actions and conscience examined by Sister Pulcheria, a personless than half his size.
I listened as the principal of Sacred Heart School brought it home — the guilt, the parole, and theextracted promise of amends. Butvery slowly.
She finally let the poor sod go — he was a puddle of goo by then — took my package and sent me backto my classroom.
She had authority — a far deeperthing than force or power.
Sister Mary Lois had it, too. She commanded, and managed to teach, over 60 kids in a combined firstand second grade classroom.
Ishudder to think how the scene in the principal’s office might play out today. Because authorities todaydon’t have authority. Like Rodney,they get no respect.
Respect is the foundation of authority.
Without respect for the rules, customs, (even more important thanwritten rules), and those who are charged with keeping order, well, you get what we have today: Theno-respect society.
In this place there is little shame. Not over much of anything — porn addiction, taking twoparking spaces, entitlement to privilege and promotions, you name it. And there is even less courtesy.
Iblame the 1960s, in part.
I blame some of the mush they teachin universities today.
And I blame the internet, most of all.
Thanks to the internet, the letter is dead. And in its place, we have the rant, the tweet and Facebook confessionals — a torrent of bothbanality and abuse.
The internet not only destroys privacy and dignity, but it has utterly destroyed courtesy.
People feel they can say anything, anything at all, to or about a total stranger, so long as they type it into the electronic ether.
And almost nobody in our society gets or gives much respect, including self-respect.
Here are a few things and people that don’t get much respect anddeserve it.
• The flag and the national anthem. No matter what your beef, you should stand at attention for both.
• The president, or rather, the presidency. Accept the president and respect him or her for the office, no matter who he or she is, or what your party is, or what you think you know. (You are probably at least half wrong, anyway.)
• People in the trades. Don’t assume that everyone needs to go to college or should. And don’t condescend to people who can build things with their hands and minds.
• Christians. The culture sneers at belief, especially traditional belief. And it treats believers like fools. Maybe more Americans need to experience the moral equivalent of being trapped in a foxhole under fire. Maybe more of us need to find out how lonely individualism and narcissism are when life brings you to your knees. Don’t put down faith or the community of belief. They are bigger than you, and you will need themsome day.
• Other people’s suffering. If you don’t know what it means to lose a buddy in Afghanistan or to be arrested for driving while being Black, maybe you need to stand down, shut up and listen for a while.
Ask your neighbor why he or she has that “Black Lives Matter” sign in his or her living room window, or that American flag in his yard.You might learn something.
Listening is the foundation of respect.
Do I really think this is possible? That a culture of mutual respect can be rebuilt, one conversationand one person at a time?
Ithink it is our only hope.