Swim Clubs and the Like

The news coverage a few weeks ago of the Huntingdon Valley Swim Club reneging on its contract to permit children from a Northeast Philadelphia day camp to swim one day a week in its pool sparked memories of similar instances in both personal and vocational encounters over the years.

The first thing our family noticed when we moved into a parsonage located in a neighborhood that was considered the most “up-scale” place to live in the state was a swimming pool a stone’s throw down the hill from our residence. That was in June, 1986. As our son was 14 years old at the time, we immediately imagined that he would be able to go to the pool and maybe even make some friends before school began in the fall. That was faulty assuming, and you know what they say about those who assume.

On further investigation, we discovered that it was a private swim club, and that to become a member cost $300 plus an annual maintenance assessment, the amount of which was variable according to the expenses incurred. We couldn’t afford to join. Later we learned that the family living in the parsonage before us had convinced the church to pay for a blanket club membership for any family occupying the parsonage, but that idea was soundly rejected by the swim club association because “there was no way of knowing ‘who’ might move into the parsonage.”

As I said above, this neighborhood was considered the crème de la crème of places to live. Once when standing in a lunch line with friends at a meeting being held at the other end of the state, a stranger standing in front of me heard me say something about where I lived and, turning around she exclaimed, “You live in _____ _____, oooooohhhhhh how wonderful for you! I was not complimented. It’s a wonder the neighborhood wasn’t “gated,” because that seems to be the trend for residential areas where the inhabitants are corporate executives, lawyers, doctors, politicians, educators as well as the few families, like ours, that manage to worm their way in.

Another episode while living there may help to make the point. The elementary school in the neighborhood was overcrowded. Portable classrooms were placed on the school’s small campus to provide additional instructional space, nearly using up all the available land. The Board of Education, wisely, they assumed, (remember what they say about assuming) devised a plan where some of the children from this neighborhood would be bussed to the fairly new school building just down the hill in the valley below.

Problem: Even though that modern building was built to accommodate 90 students and was being under used, it had the unfortunate malady of being located in the community where the “creekers” lived, the name given to the less obviously advantaged families living along the creek. When the “up-scale” families on top of the hill caught wind of what the BOE was devising, those movers and shakers did what they know how to do best, and the plan to alleviate the over-crowded conditions were scuttled. Not only so, but the BOE, for economic reasons, was forced to close the new facility in the valley, cram more portable classrooms onto the already overcrowded campus, and bus the few children from the valley to the prestigious school on top of the hill.

By the way, the hilltop school proudly claimed at the time that 93% of its students were “gifted.” I knew some of those children, and if they were gifted, then when I was their age, I was the equivalent of an Einstein. (Believe me, I was not!) Perhaps their giftedness was more an indication of the political pressure their parents could bring to bear on such decisions.

So egregious was the reversal of the BOE’s plan that yours truly couldn’t resist speaking to the issue from the pulpit. That along with other perceived judgmental attitudes and failures on my part may have helped to lead to my being “fired” from that assignment, the only time I have ever received such distinction in my years as a pastor.

Please don’t think that I am saying the people on the hilltop were bad or vicious or conniving or mean-spirited. While I may have harbored such suspicions at one time, I have long ago let such thoughts go. In fact, most of that congregation was comprised of very intelligent, skilled and compassionate individuals, some of whom I continue to hold in deep respect and appreciation, with a fondness that brings delight when remembering them.

So how do I understand the kinds of prejudicial behavior that seemed to manifest itself during those years in that place? My thinking now is that these eruptions were more the result of values coming up against one another. If ethics or morality is inherent in the universe’s creation, then it seems that humanity is at its best when it aligns itself with whatever the ethical principles are. As Christians, we profess that the highest ethical value is found in the love of God, neighbor and self, which suggests a kind of mutual behavior toward all of life (including oneself) in constructive ways, ways that build up and help all of life become what, by God, it is meant to be.

But reality often presents conflicts between what is best for one part of life over another. The good parents of the exclusive neighborhood decided, rightly or wrongly, that the good of their own children was preferable to any consideration given to possible benefits for all children. That is understandable; we all want what we perceive is best for our own children.

Yet, as one who grew up in a government housing project (a “creeker” of sorts), and at the same time, as one who grew up in a very prestigious downtown church, I’m led to the conclusion that the aforementioned hilltop community where I served for a short while was honestly mistaken. My growing up in a congregation of movers and shakers, being friends with children of all economic strata, being invited to the homes of the very affluent and included in their family activities, being treated as worthy along with the children of the “pikers,” (the wealthier people who lived “out the pike”) has made a dramatic difference in my own life. When did it happen that the more affluent lost sight of how their abundance placed upon them greater responsibility for the community’s well-being? What led to their building fences and gates around their neighborhoods rather than reaching down into the valleys to lift others up? As Jesus is purported to have put it: “From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.” (St. Luke 12:48 NRSV)