TOKENS PODCAST: S1E5
Three profoundly different, but all deeply poignant, accounts of hospitality.
Three very different accounts of hospitality: one entails sneaking across the border in the back of a pick-up truck. Another entails seeking out a Muslim imam to say some things after September 11. And a third entails a radical subversion of southern racism through the exercise of both medical expertise, and kindness. Our episode on hospitality comprises an interview with author Brian McLaren, a spoken word performance by Leslie Garcia, and an interview with beloved Nashville performer Odessa Settles.
LINKS TO LISTEN:
EPISODE LINKS:
Brian McLaren’s book:
Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed Cross the Road? Christian Identity in a Multi-Faith World
EXTRA FEATURES:
Leslie Garcia - "My mother came to this country in the back of a pick-up truck"
ABOUT ODESSA SETTLES
Odessa Settles, born and raised in Nashville TN, the only sister of eight siblings, has been on stage most of her life thanks to her singing father, Walter Settles, a former member of the Fairfield Four. Odessa has served as a multi-genre artist and referral entity in Nashville for many years in the areas of vocal and instrumental music, acting, modeling, spoken word, recording projects and short films. Odessa considers herself a folk singer and novice songwriter, a lover of ukuleles and anything she can beat on (percussion, sticks, paddles, cans, buckets, tambourines, etc.). Her gift and mission in life is to minister to the sick, listen, learn, bridge gaps, sing, record, and perform with as many people as possible, and teach to others the great lessons she has learned from individuals who have allowed her to share their space.
Odessa is the coordinator and manager of: Settles Connection, a recording and performing group that consist of family and friends; Seven Brothers and One Sister, which includes the Settles brothers and Odessa; and the Nashville Symphony “Let Freedom Sing” Celebration Chorus that comes together yearly to celebrate the life and legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr.
Odessa, now considered “a piece of the furniture” has been performing with the TOKENS Radio Show series since the first show. Odessa says, “I feel quite honored and blessed each time I am invited to share the stage with the Tokens family and friends under the direction of Lee Camp and Jeff Taylor. Each show is a lesson in collaborative creativity and fellowship from the stage to the audience.”
ABOUT BRIAN MCLAREN
Brian D. McLaren is an author, speaker, activist, and public theologian. A former college English teacher and pastor, he is a passionate advocate for “a new kind of Christianity” – just, generous, and working with people of all faiths for the common good. He is a faculty member of The Living School, which is part of the Center for Action and Contemplation, and he co-leads the Common Good Messaging Team, which is part of Vote Common Good. He is also an Auburn Senior Fellow and a leader in the Convergence Network, through which he has developed an innovative training/mentoring program for pastors, church planters, and lay leaders called Convergence Leadership Project. He works closely with the Wild Goose Festival, the Fair Food Program‘s Faith Working Group, and Progressive Christianity. His most recent projects include an illustrated children’s book (for all ages) called Cory and the Seventh Story and The Galapagos Islands: A Spiritual Journey. Two important new releases are in process: Faith After Doubt (January 2021) and Do I Stay Christian? (Spring 2022).
ABOUT LESLIE GARCIA
Leslie joined us for a Tokens Show when she was a student of Lee Camp’s for a semester at Lipscomb University. That night, Leslie shared her spoken word piece, “My Mother Came to this Country on the Back of a Pickup Truck.”
ABOUT TOKENS SHOW & LEE C. CAMP
Tokens began in 2008. Our philosophical and theological variety shows and events hosted throughout the Nashville area imagine a world governed by hospitality, graciousness and joy; life marked by beauty, wonder and truthfulness; and social conditions ordered by justice, mercy and peace-making. We exhibit tokens of such a world in music-making, song-singing, and conversations about things that matter. We have fun, and we make fun: of religion, politics, and marketing. And ourselves. You might think of us as something like musicians without borders; or as poets, philosophers, theologians and humorists transgressing borders.
Lee is an Alabamian by birth, a Tennessean by choice, and has sojourned joyfully in Indiana, Texas, and Nairobi. He likes to think of himself as a radical conservative, or an orthodox liberal; loves teaching college and seminary students at Lipscomb University; delights in flying sailplanes; finds dark chocolate covered almonds with turbinado sea salt to be one of the finest confections of the human species; and gives great thanks for his lovely wife Laura, his three sons, and an abundance of family and friends, here in Music City and beyond. Besides teaching full-time, he hosts Nashville’s Tokens Show, and has authored three books. Lee has an Undergrad Degree in computer science (Lipscomb University,1989); M.A. in theology and M.Div. (Abilene Christian University, 1993); M.A. and Ph.D. both in Christian Ethics (University of Notre Dame, 1999)
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TRANSCRIPT
Lee: This is Tokens. I'm Lee C. Camp.
Leslie: My mother came to this country in the back of a pickup truck.
Lee: That is how one of my former students, Leslie Garcia, begins a spoken word piece on her mother's coming to America, seeking hospitality.
Brian: A friendship began between he and I, and I realized that I became a better Christian when I had a Muslim friend.
Lee: That is how the author, Brian McLaren, summarized his learning to practice hospitality. And beloved Nashville performing artist and my friend, Odessa settles, has this to say about seeking to give hospitality when it was not wanted.
Odessa: He says, “Do you remember me?” Of course I smiled and I said, “Yes I do, very well.”
And so he hugs me and again, he says, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Lee: Today on our show, three profoundly different stories, each pertaining to hospitality. All three of these helped make me a better human being.
Welcome. You're listening to Tokens and our episode on hospitality. We start with an interview recorded with Brian McLaren at the famed Ryman Auditorium, downtown Nashville, Tennessee.
We welcome tonight Mr. Brian McLaren. Brian is the author of numerous books, including A New Kind of Christian. Yeah, welcome Brian.
[Applause]
Brian: Great to be here, thanks.
Lee: Brian is the author of numerous books, including A New Kind of Christian and A Generous Orthodoxy. As a matter of fact, I was looking this week about how many books you've written. And I think my first question would be, have you read all of the books that you've written?
Brian: I have but my wife hasn’t.
[Laughter]
Lee: Brian has worked as a college professor, teaching English. He's served as a pastor, a high profile figure in the debates and arguments these days over what it means to be Christian in the western world. Brian, we're grateful that you have been here with us. You must not be too troubled with controversy that you get into sometimes because you entitled your latest book, something like the start of a joke. Why did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Muhammad Cross the Road? I'm sure that got you a lot of friends right there. So what’s important to you in this book?
Brian: Well, I think we - all religious people, but I can speak as a Christian - we know how to do two things very well already. We know how to have a strong religious identity that is hostile toward anybody with a different religious identity. And then we know how to get rid of the hostility by weakening our religious identity. So we know how to be strong and hostile. And maybe weak and tolerant or benign. And my pursuit is, is it possible to have a strong religious identity that is benevolent toward people of other identities?
Lee: So the idea here is that we...
[Applause]
The old buckle of the Bible Belt can surprise you sometimes. But so, in other words, you're critiquing one very common way of doing so-called interfaith dialogue - is that you assume that in order to have tolerant engagement with a person of another faith, you have to water down who you are. And you're wanting to suggest that exactly the opposite is possible to occur.
Brian: I was at an interfaith dialogue up at Yale university once a few years ago, and a couple of Muslims, Muslim scholars, came up to me and said, “We heard that you're an Evangelical.” I said, “Well, some people think so, some don't.” And he said, “We really like to talk to Evangelicals more than we like to talk to liberal Protestants.” I was a little surprised. I said, “Why is that?” They said, “Well, the Evangelicals just tell us we're going to hell. And then we have a good discussion.” He said, “The liberal folks are so careful. They don't want to offend us, that they walk on eggshells, and then we feel we have to walk on eggshells too.” [He] said, “We just want to be able to have an open discussion.” And I think something happens when we find a different way of holding our faith identity.
Lee: You described this notion of oppositional identity. What do you mean by that?
Brian: Well, a Catholic theologian named James Alison said, “If you give a person an enemy, you give them a crutch by which they know who they are.” So the shortcut to having an identity is giving me an enemy.
Lee: So in other words, I know who I am because I know I'm not you.
Brian: Exactly right. And it's a great way for leaders to circle the troops and increase loyalty and maybe even donations, if we give them the idea that we're protecting them from those bad other guys over there.
Lee: You suggest that when Jesus and Paul quote, the Hebrew Bible that they - and this is a quote - “they engage in an artful and deliberate reshaping of the texts they cite.” What do you mean by that?
Brian: Well, there are a lot of violent passages in the Bible just as there are in many other Holy books, but the Bible has a lot of violent passages and it's fascinating to watch - in case after case when Jesus and Paul take those violent texts, they subvert them. They overturn them in the direction of non-violence and peace.
Lee: So why did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammad cross the road?
Brian: Well, the short answer is to get to the other, and I experienced that. I was... believe it or not, the world economic forum invited religious leaders to Davos, Switzerland a few years ago. I was invited. I think they figured that if Muslims, Christians, and Jews blow up the world, it would be bad for business. So they said we ought to get some of these folks together. And there was a big banquet and I arrived at the banquet early, and one other person then came. And I'm not kidding: this guy looked like - I'm not proud to say this - but he looked like he won the Osama Bin Laden lookalike contest. He had a long beard. He was a little better looking and less gray, but when he walked in the room, I startled. It was just an unconscious reflex. He walked right in and sat down at his seat. And I thought, now here's where everything I believe gets put to the test. So I said, okay, I believe in connection and going to the other. So I tapped him on the shoulder. I said, “Could I sit by you?” He says, “Oh yeah, man, have a seat. Be glad to have you here.” I started talking to him. He was from Oman, but he went to college at Rutgers. He had a perfect New Jersey accent.
[Laughter]
Lee: So you've talked about this kind of notion of simply acting like all religions are saying the same thing. We're all doing the same thing, watering down what we believe in order to get along, and on the other hand, avoiding this kind of identity grounded in hostility. So what do you think is most challenging to people as they try to learn a third way that you're describing?
Brian: You discover that your friends are more dangerous than your enemies. You find out that the greatest way to get in trouble is to belong to a group and then break faith with the prejudices against the other groups. So when you reach out your hand and humanize the other, you are immediately villainized by your peers. I had an interesting experience with this. I was involved in an online dialogue with a group of Christians, Muslims, and Jews. And I made the comment that we're more afraid of us than them, because if we're too friendly to them, we'll be attacked by us. And in each of our religions, the us can do us more harm. And as soon as I said that, I started getting private emails from the other Muslims and Jews and Christians saying, I can't say this in front of everybody else, but you're right.
Lee: For yourself, because you've certainly come under lots of fire for certain things that you've said and taught and so forth, what have you found to be helpful to sustain you in saying what you think to be true?
Brian: Well you need a couple of friends who know you. If the people who know you are telling you you're terrible, that's one thing. But if it's the others, it's a little easier to bear. And then I think this is one of those places where criticism either makes us bitter or better. I think anyone who tries to step out and say and do things that received some criticism has to go deeper and you at some level ask, “Am I doing what's right before God and my conscience?” And you just try to press on.
Lee: What is the thing that you would wish that people that would criticize you would most hear you say in this book?
Brian: Well, this book hasn't gotten much criticism. I think the only criticism it's gotten is from people who object to being told that they're being hostile toward the other. In their mind, they're not being hostile to the other; they're being faithful to us and to their tradition. So that hostility doesn't ring true. But what I would hope we could hear is that primal commandment: to love your neighbor as yourself also extends to your neighbor who's Muslim or Jewish or Hindu or Buddhist or atheist. If we take that commandment seriously, it'll take us to a very different place.
Lee: At what point did you decide you needed to write this particular book?
Brian: On September 11th, 2001, I was doing what most people were doing: I was glued to my television. On September 12th, 2001, I was doing what most pastors were doing: I was leading a prayer meeting, and in that prayer meeting, I had this deep sense - it just kind of came out from within me - that my Muslim neighbors were in danger of reprisals. Well, there were three mosques near the church that I served, and then a Muslim community center. And so the next morning I got up and I wrote a letter, and the letter said, “I'm sorry. I should have come to visit you before, but I never have, and I hope that there won't be any trouble, but if there is trouble, here's my phone number. Here's my cell number. Here's my email address. I think I can speak on behalf of my congregation that we’ll be there for you if there's trouble.” Well, I went to three of the mosques and the doors were closed. It was locked. I went to the fourth. And there was a television truck with a big satellite dish on top, just pulling out of the gate. It turns out a woman from that mosque had been pushed down in the street in Washington D.C., and the person who pushed her down said, “You're probably glad this happened.” And so the TV crew was there to interview the mom about how the woman was doing and so on. Well, the truck pulled out and there were automatic gates that were closing. Without even thinking, I stepped on my gas and just went through the gate really fast - scared the poor mom half to death. He ran out to me with his hands up, telling me to stop. I threw the car into park, stepped out, and I realized I'd never met an Imam before - a Muslim leader before. I handed him my letter. And I'll never forget. He looked down at the letter. He was kind of a short guy, looked down at the letter, looked up at me, looked down at the letter, looked up at me. Tears came down his eyes, and he threw his arms around me. And I still remember the feeling of his head right here at my chest. He just held onto me. He said, “It's so good that you've come. It's so good that you've come, please come inside, come have some tea with me.” So I went inside, I went into his office. I'd never been in a mosque. I’d never been in an Imam’s office. It turned out it was just like my pastor's office except neater. And all the books are in Arabic.
[Laughter]
But that day a friendship began between he and I, and I realized that I became a better Christian when I had a Muslim friend, and that began a process of rethinking this whole issue of identity.
Lee: Thank you, Brian. Please share your thanks for Brian McLaren.
[Applause]
That was Brian McLaren on his book, Why did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Muhammad Cross the Road? Christian Identity in a Multi-Faith World, recorded at the famous Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, Tennessee. One of the joys of being a professor arises out of all I learn from my students. Leslie Garcia is one of those students who has taught me a great deal. This is Leslie performing one of her spoken word pieces on a live Tokens show.
Leslie: My mother came to this country in the back of a pickup truck. Crossing the border is house slippers, cactus ridden, pricked by blistered feet and memories of grandmothers using chanclas as police clubs. Though only Moses leading this exodus was a coyote dressed as tar. Wetbacks cross rivers to get to their promised land. My people swim because the red seas aren't divided for them. They walk under the moonlight, play hide and go seek with border patrol checkpoints, get on their bellies as helicopter lights try to tag them, pray to la virgen maria as bullets are shot into their camouflage bushes. Different frontiers tell different stories. That they all remember that old immigrant’s saying, “I prefer to risk my life crossing the border than to lose it in my country with my hands on my lap.” We cross borders because the fear of home is greater than the fear of crossing death. In the rivers, they saw the bodies floating like bigots yelling, “Go back to your country.” In protest, they chose to float face-down, lungs collapsing. In themselves, they found fear, a fear that made them play follow the leader as they climb mountaintops, pass volcano ashes and serpent backroads. And when they finally reached the top of the mountain they saw the city lights shining. Allí está America. There is America. Yet freedom, like those lights, is a mirage miles away. How none of us are native to this land, but we all have a common ancestor with empty pockets and a compass seeking shelter. We’re aliens to the aliens. We’re wet backs after crossing rivers. Your reflection shows your ancestors crossed oceans of history textbooks claiming this country was founded on the Trail of Tears, bloody footprints the color of the American flag. Heat has always been home, but now it's a reminder that freedom is only a first degree burn. And first degree murder is legal when the killers wear badges and the corpses carry minority cards. We have always been mourning doves, willing to settle in any place where there's refuge for family. Marias carry their Holy children in swaddled cloths, in wombs that beat too heavy. Joses travel to foreign countries working construction because callused hands mean bread for communion. Little boys named Jesus grow up with a shank in their back, with asphalt bruises from crucifixes they were born into. Maria, Jose, Jesus. Mary, Joseph, Jesus. Survival is the history and translation. Survival is my 14-year-old mother being stacked in the back of a pickup truck, refusing to cross her hands and accept death. She crossed the mountain and the river and the crooked fence and said, “Por fin llegamos a casa.” We finally reached home. Thank you.
[Applause]
Lee: Ms. Leslie Garcia, sophomore psychology and English major from Brooklyn, New York.
[Applause]
You are listening to Tokens: public theology, human flourishing, the good life. We are most grateful to have you joining us. And remember, you can find out links, photos, books, and related videos from our extensive YouTube channel, all at tokensshow.com/podcast. This is our episode on hospitality. Coming up, a beloved Nashville performer, our friend, Miss Odessa Settles. Odessa tells some tales of her own efforts to extend hospitality when it was not wanted. Part two in just a moment.
You're listening to Tokens. A caution to our listeners, that part two contains explicit language.
My buddy Britton Orville, that many of you know, worked as a production assistant with us for many years at Tokens Show. One night after the show at a post show gathering, Brit and I were sitting with Odessa Settles. And at that point, I think Odessa and I had been working together for eight years. I said, “Odessa, what do you think about us white people always singing your civil rights songs?” And she said, “Oh, I'm used to it.”
[Laughter]
And we had a delightful conversation in which she told me some stories that I wanted you to hear. So I'd ask you to please welcome our friend, Miss Odessa Settles.
Odessa: Thank you.
Lee: Some of you may not know that Odessa works as a pediatric nurse at Vanderbilt hospital.
Odessa: I have some Vanderbilt friends out there.
Lee: Welcome to you all. Even though I know that you've been singing civil rights music since you were a child, very young, what have been some of the experiences you've had personally with processing this social plague of racism and prejudice?
Odessa: Okay. Since everyone knows I'm a nurse, then I can like relay a couple of stories or something. It's not easy to hear. I was a new nurse on the evening shift, and there was a white middle aged woman who had come in for a surgical procedure, and I was introduced to her by the charge nurse, which was interesting, but this was a well-to-do woman, so I'm sure that's probably why she had to preface it. But when I went into the room and then once she introduced me, the patient said, “I don't want that nigga to touch me.” And so the charge nurse was visibly upset, you know, more so than me because, you know, I grew up in the South. I'm used to seeing children right across the bus hollering out “nigger girl” or whatever. So I asked the woman, “If you allow me to take care of you this evening, maybe there will be someone else tomorrow that you would be pleased with.” She never spoke to me the entire night. During her dressing change, her food tray, I offered to change her linen, but as a new nurse, I also set aside time afterwards, you know, maybe about five minutes after at the end of my shift, to talk with my patients, to ask them if there was anything else that they needed. And also to thank them for allowing me to take care of them. She never said a word to me. And so my time was up and I told her I was about to leave, and if there is anything that I could have done better to let the charge nurse know. So I go home and I come back the next evening, I'm on evening shift, and the charge nurse - I'm looking at my assignment, and the same patient is on my list. So I look at my charge nurse and I said - I'm smiling, you know, laughing actually, and surprised, and she said, “She asked for you.” I said, “That's interesting.” So she asked for me every night that I was on, you know. She didn't really talk much, but you can see this warming, you know, towards me. And so, on the day of discharge, I was actually working the day shift, which is interesting. I don't know if she arranged that or what, but I ended up being her nurse on the day that she was discharged. She tried to give me a monetary gift and I told her I can’t accept that. But what I am pleased with is that she is healing and that I hope she continues to heal. And I thanked her for allowing me to take care of her. She teared up, she cried, she gave me a hug and she just kept saying thank you. Thank you. Thank you. So there was one or the experience of many that I had.
Lee: That was a long time ago.
Odessa: That was a long time ago, a long time ago.
Lee: Any more recent episodes or stories?
Odessa: Fast forward 30 plus years. I don't want to give my age.
[Laughter]
But I was a newborn emergency transport nurse practitioner on a run to pick up an infant at a small rural hospital. My team consisted of a white nurse, an African American driver, and me. We arrive, and I'm the one in charge. We are picking up a baby who is less than two pounds and also less than 26 weeks gestation. And so the nurse is at the hospital, when we arrive, rather. It is filled with people: family, friends, the doctors, the nurses. And there is a nurse who is artificially bagging a baby with a mask - some of my friends would understand that out there - but because they could not do the procedures where they could better stabilize the baby. So the doctor there and the nurse went straight to the white nurse to ask, you know, “What do we need to do?” And she'd said, “No, you need to ask Miss Settles. She's the one in charge.” So needless to say, there was an awkward moment. And the father, once he found out I was the one that was in charge, he said, “I don't want you to touch my baby.” So then I was stunned a little bit again, but I cannot react. I said a silent prayer. Lord help me say the right thing and do the right thing. I pulled him aside into a room where we could be alone. And I said, “I sense that you probably was influenced by the South and the culture here.” I said, “So was I, but today let's not make it be about you and me. Let's make it be about whether or not you want to try to give your son a chance. And if you tell me, no, I will have to walk away.” You know? So by the time we got done, he is crying at that time. And so he said, “Do what you can do.” And so we ended up doing a full stabilization on his baby. I didn't know whether or not the baby would make it or not. But we got them stabilized enough to be able to transport them. We stopped by the mother's room, who was still under some sedation, because I wanted her to touch him just in case, you know? And so we got him back to the hospital where I work and I dropped him off into the NICU - Neonatal Intensive Care Unit - and then I went on about my business of taking care of babies who have chronic lung disease in a clinic that I helped to start there at Vanderbilt. These are babies who have been discharged from the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit who are still requiring supplemental oxygen, so they come to my clinic until they are off of that oxygen. So one day about two and a half to three months later, this man is walking into the clinic. He walks up to me, he's holding a baby that's on supplemental oxygen. He says, “Do you remember me?” Of course I smiled. And I said, “Yes I do, very well.” And so he hugs me and again, he says, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” And so I took care of his baby until he was no longer needing supplemental oxygen. So that's two experiences.
Lee: Odessa, we're grateful for you. We're grateful for all that you have been on Tokens Show and all you've provided and we're thankful...
Odessa: Oh my goodness. It's been a blessing for me. Wow. Thank you for, including me in the Tokens Show family.
Lee: Please show a little love for Miss Odessa Settles.
Odessa: Thank you so much.
[Applause]
Lee: You're listening to Tokens: public theology, human flourishing, the good life. That was our friend Odessa Settles in an interview at the Ryman Auditorium. Thank you for joining us. Please remember to subscribe wherever you get your podcasts. And please remember to refer us to a fellow podcast listener, and please leave us one of those five star reviews on Apple podcasts and subscribe there or wherever you listen. For this episode in particular, you might want to check out the episode page for a wonderful video of Leslie Garcia's spoken word piece. Got feedback? We'd love to hear from you. Email us, text or attach a voice memo, and send to the address podcast@tokensshow.com.
Our thanks to all the stellar team that make this podcast possible. Executive producer and manager Christie Bragg, Bragg management. Co-producer Jacob Lewis of Great Feeling Studios. Associate producer Leslie Thompson of Rogue Creative Marketing and Media. Associate producer Ashley Bayne. Our engineer Cariad Harmon. Production assistant Cara Fox. And our live event production team at Stonebrook Media led by Phil Barnett
Thanks for listening and peace be unto thee.
The Tokens podcast is a production of Tokens Media, LLC, and Great Feeling Studios, both in Nashville, Tennessee.
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