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Consider the Lilies
By Julie Terry Cartner
It’s not surprising that the lily is the primary floral representation of Easter. The lily is mentioned thirteen times in the Bible, with one of the better known verses coming from Matthew 6:28-29 when Jesus says, “Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was not dressed like one of these,” reminding us that rather than worry, we should put our trust in God to take care of us. But nowhere is the lily’s connection deeper to Easter than in the beliefs that Christian legend supports.
Lilies are believed to have sprouted from the ground where Christ’s blood and tears fell during his crucifixion as well as in the Garden of Gethsemane after his betrayal. Also, Catholic doctrine says that after Mary, Jesus’ mother died, when the people opened her tomb, the area was filled with lilies. Even further back, going to the beginning, the belief is that in the Garden of Eden, lilies grew from Eve’s tears when she and Adam were banished.
Easter lilies, known as the white robed apostles of hope, symbolize Easter in several ways. First, Easter lilies start as bulbs that live underground for generally about three years before they sprout upwards out of the earth to create the beautiful white flowers that we love. Similarly, Christ lay in the tomb for three days before he rose from the dead and was resurrected on Easter Sunday.
Secondly, the flower is pure white, symbolizing innocence and purity. Jesus was innocent of the charges against him, and as God’s son, there is no one more pure.
The flower, like all lilies has six petals, but the difference is the shape. The Easter lily is shaped like a trumpet, a trumpet to announce Jesus’ resurrection, to emphasize the rebirth and renewal of the world from Jesus’ sacrifice which we see revealed every spring.
Beyond Christian interpretations of the Easter lily, the plant, like many others, contains healing properties. The lily can be used as an anti-inflammatory agent and a tonic to improve a person’s overall wellbeing. Historically the Easter lily was used to treat bronchitis and other respiratory ailments. Finally, like the dogwood, the Easter lily was used to stop bleeding after surgery, an extremely valuable natural healer during times of war, such as the Revolutionary and the Civil Wars, when traditional medicines were not always readily available, or for the many people who lived far from towns and had to rely on natural remedies. Jesus, the great healer, would approve.
As we enter the final days of the Easter season, consider the lilies, which never sow nor spin. Consider the lilies which are arrayed in beauty beyond what the finest clothing manufacturers in the world can produce. Consider the beautiful gift of both beauty and use, beauty to feed our souls and use to care for our bodies. We need to truly see beyond their opalescent purity and examine our lives. Are we behaving as the Creator would want? Consider the lilies…
Rev. Jethro Rumple
By Linda H. Barnette
One of the books I read while doing research on the history of First Methodist Church here in town was Rev. Jethro Rumple’s History of Rowan County, North Carolina, first published in 1881 and again in 1916 by the Elizabeth Maxwell Steele chapter of the DAR, the unit to which I belong. He writes about the early churches in Rowan and also about the famous people and families in that county, some of which had history here ss well.
For some reason, yesterday I thought about Sharon Presbyterian Church in Charlotte where my first husband and I were members from 1965-1973. At that time it was a small church, and we had services in the old sanctuary with probably a couple hundred members. When I googled it, I found that it is now a huge church which also has a seminary. And in the introduction of Dr. Rumple’s book, I discovered that he had been the pastor of both Sharon and Providence Presbyterian churches from 1857- 1860.
Dr. Rumple (referred to as both Dr.and Rev) was born in 1827 on a farm in Cabarrus County and studied both in private schools and with tutors. Eventually he went to Davidson College where he graduated in 1850. From Davidson Rumple went to Columbia Seminary in South Carolina and was licensed to preach by the Concord Presbytery.
After four years in Charlotte, he was called to be pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Salisbury ad was installed there in November of 1860. There he stayed for 45 years. When he retired in 1805, the church had grown from a membership of 100 to 435 people.
He worked hard to expand the reach of the Presbyterian denomination. He was a pioneer in the mission of the church. His work was instrumental in the organization of a church in Blowing Rock, at first a small building and the second one the beautiful stone building on the main street in Blowing Rock that is still active today and is named Rumple Memorial Presbyterian Church.
When I was a student at Catawba and a few times much later, I attended that church but knew nothing of its history. Dr. Rumple’s book is a treasure of history and contains a section on prominent Rowan families and an early history of the major denominations in Rowan.
It was also interesting to discover that he is buried at Chestnut Hill Cemetery in Salisbury, the same place where John’s Misenheimer grandparents rest.
Lifelong Learning
By Felicia Browell
I’ve always loved to learn, but I didn’t always love school. I loved some classes, tolerated some, and actively loathed others. For the most part, I did my best to not draw attention to myself. But my mother likes to remind me about my grade school behavior.
“Your first grade teacher sent a note home with you, telling me how disruptive you were during reading class.” Thinking (far) back, I remember getting one of the Dick and Jane readers, and finishing the chapter before my classmates got to the part where Dick threw the ball for Spot. Mom smiles and continues, “I sent a note back telling the teacher you were bored, and to give you something to do.” During reading class after that, I went to the library to pick whatever book I wanted. Mom explained that my brother taught me to read before I started first grade. Kudos to him!
Looking back on those years, I think I was searching for my purpose through learning. I suppose that my early love of reading fueled my various learning frenzies. If you tally all the things I’ve studied over the decades, you can see a meandering testimony to my interests in life as I accumulated hobbies (and related books) and explored my learning passions.
For the most part, high school wasn’t the best of times, nor was it the worst. I finally could choose elective classes that actually interested me – art, woodshop, psychology, among others. I remember loving science, tolerating math, silently grinding my teeth through history, and actively disliking English. In fact, English and literature classes inspired a dread that twisted my stomach. Given that, it seems rather ironic that I ended up being a professional writer.
In college in the 1980s, I focused on writing and psychology. I remember several all-nighters using electric typewriters to finish term papers or story assignments. Before I graduated, the university opened personal computer labs, and my writing transformed. I still don’t develop stories in a straight line. Plot points spin in my head like index cards in a dust devil. I shuffled sentences and paragraphs for even this piece, until those cards fell into place and the topic flowed.
But the classroom experience has changed! Pre-Y2K, you had to actually show up in a real classroom (no Zoom classes), settle your butt on an uncomfortable chair, and mostly remain awake through a lecture one to three days a week. You used a stylus (pencil or pen) in a notebook (paper version), on a graffiti-scarred desktop (no power cord needed). I still haven’t mastered Moodle, which is the online way homework and studies are assigned, collected, and often graded today. The program I’m currently in uses both online and in-person classes.
There are fifteen to twenty students in each of my in-person classes this term, and I’m the oldest. I value my time, learning, and purpose enough that I really want to understand each topic. I no longer sit in the back and work to be unnoticed – I ask questions, offer answers, and share what I know.
Given the range of ages and life experiences in college classes today, effective teaching seems pretty tough. I’ve noticed that a “good” class depends both on having a teacher who actually tries to teach, and on having students who actually try to learn. As much as a “bad” instructor can drag a class down, so can a single student with a bad attitude. Being positive is a choice. It disappoints me that some older students seem to be sour on life; their negativity can send uncomfortable ripples through the room. Like the classroom desks, people really haven’t changed either, whatever generation they claim.
“Older” doesn’t necessarily equal more mature, skilled, or capable. Several of my classmates who are fresh out of high school are more proficient at “adulting” than some of us older folks. Still, the older students are there, in class, learning something new. Lifelong learning has been linked to better emotional resilience, perceived wellbeing, and less cognitive decline. Learning anything – to crochet, play a harmonica, speak a second language, build model airplanes, do yoga – it all works to keep your mind younger, more aware, and more resilient. There are so many things I still want to learn that I’m confident I’ll live to be at least 120!
Everyone should learn and practice something new every year or two – pick something interesting and learn it.