Sorrow of the Heart

I have never quite understood the meaning of one of the verses in Jesus' Sermon on the Mount. In fact, many times it is often misquoted to say, "Blessed are the poor, / For theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Actually (just as it is not money that is the root of all evil, but the love of money) the verse in Matthew 5 actually says, "Blessed are the poor in spirit." The promise seems to be antithetical to all logic. Why would it not say the kingdom of heaven belongs instead to the rich in spirit?

The idea has recently surfaced again in my mind through one of our recent discussions in book club. One of our members, Mary Ellen, who is a veteran teacher in Little Rock, says she has never understood why those in economic poverty are often accompanied by spiritual poverty as well. Many of us in the group agreed that education was certainly one of the major panaceas for economic poverty and for access to the American dream. Why is it then that some young people struggle to make the choices that would no doubt enable them to lead a better life? Of course, the question is complex as most social problems are, but perhaps part of the answer can be found in another verse in Proverbs 15.

The second part of verse 13 says, ". . . by sorrow of the heart the spirit is broken." What are some of the aspects of a child's life that might cause him or her to experience this sorrow, leading to a broken spirit? The causes might be multiple within the family; poverty, divorce, addictions, and abuses of all kinds are just a few of the possibilities..

If a child's spirit is broken by what she has witnessed and experienced by the time she reaches first grade, is it possible to restore it? Mary Ellen also said in our discussion yesterday that, if a teacher can reach a child's soul, a positive change might still be achievable.

I think I am one who can testify that positive teachers and role models can indeed provide the beginning steps to repairing the crushing weight of family circumstances. I give my sister Judy credit for this as well as my grandmother Mam. In addition, I think of some wonderful parents of my best friend in junior high, Beverly. Mr. Phillips was a car salesman (and manager I believe) of a car dealership in Sumner, Mississippi, when Beverly and I met in the eighth grade. Soon I was a regular overnight visitor to their house. I loved the sense of normalcy I got there.
I did not have to think about an alcoholic father and a clincally depressed mother. I didn't have to think about the affair with a married man my mother was having at the time. Mrs. Phillips was a homemaker, as we say today, who probably never even thought of having a career herself or working outside the home in the late 1950's. I loved going into the warm kitchen in the morning only to be asked by Mrs. Phillips what I wanted for breakfast. She then prepared it with care. I felt like a princess, instead of the broken child I was.

When I re-entered the teaching profession when I was 27, after the birth of two children, I wanted to incorporate the same traits I had seen in my role models: primarily to be real and to be generous to those with a broken spirit. In my first year of teaching at Southwest Junior High I was assigned all of the C, D., and F students. The other ninth grade teacher taught the A and B students since the school system we were in still "tracked" students by their academic promise. It was extremely hard to break out of the label one was given. My class after the lunch break was an especially difficult challenge since they not only included students who struggled academically but also those who had some behavioral problems. I struggled for a semester, I am afraid unsuccessfully, until I discovered some Scholastic books that focused on the interests of teenagers like riding motorcycles, buying cars, and so on. The students began to devour them in their short reading time during the class. The books were written at a fourth grade level, but they were able to instill confidence and a love of reading within the students. They moved up to other high interest books, but at a higher reading level, as they progressed. Before I left the school for another teaching position, one of my students came back one day in his Army uniform to update me on his new life in the service and to thank me for the turnaround in his life.

Changing students' lives is not such a cliche I think. Could the answer to the spiritual poverty question come in the form of filling those sorrowful hearts and restoring spirits one child at a time?