Being Large

It was a cold, stormy Jan night in 1973. Senator John Stennis, the venerable hawkish Left winger from Mississippi, drove from Capitol Hill to his northwest Washington home.

Though older ( 71 ), he was still the forceful chairperson of the Senate Armed Services Panel . At exactly 7:40 pm, Stennis parked his auto and started toward his home fifty feet away.

Out of the darkness jumped 2 young robbers—little more than youngsters, truly. One nervously waved a .22 caliber pistol as the other relieved the senator of his private possessions.

“Now we are going to shoot you anyway,” one told Stennis. For six-and-a-half hours, surgeons at Walter Reed Medical Center worked feverishly to fix the damage and save his life. At 9:15 that very same night another flesh presser was driving home from the Senate.

a person on the opposite end of the political range, a Republican “dove” who had clashed frequently and sharply with Stennis. The crisis was reported over Hatfield’s automobile radio that wintry night. Disregarding the strong variations in their convictions and pulled by a deep admiration for the aged politician and a compassion for his predicament, Hatfield later admitted:. But I knew there had been something I must do—and that was to go to that surgery and be nearby where I might be useful, if at all possible, to the family.”. There had been numberless bafflement at the infirmary as fellow senators, co-workers, and curious chums and writers overwhelmed the surgery’s telephone operators. Shorthanded and disorganised, the surgery crew attempted their best but weren’t able to handle the calls and answer the questions. Hatfield quickly scoped out the situation, spotted a deserted switchboard, sat down, and willingly went to work. Much later—after recovering—Stennis related what he heard occurred next : “He informed the girls, ‘I understand how to work one of these ; let me help you out.’ He continued taking calls till daylight.” An very important detail is that he never gave any one his name because somebody would certainly suspect some political connection, some distant motive. Hatfield ultimately stood up around light, stretched, put on his overcoat, and silently introduced himself to the other operators. Pleased to help out for a person I extremely respect,” he claimed as he walked away.

The press could not handle that story when it leaked out. No way did it sound right for a Republican to give a Left winger the time , not to mention many interminable hours of private help in some unnamed, menial task. I mean, that sort of personality went out with the horse and cart and silent pictures and pronouncing “ma’am” and “sir” to teachers.

Politics and personal tastes and viewpoints on stuff like army participation may change among members of the body of Christ. But there’s a bond deep inside that ties us to each other. It’s the glue of authentic love, expressing itself in compassion, fairness, eagerness to support, and ( when possible ) coming to the help of another. Committed to the protection and grace of human life. Seeing another in need—regardless of differences of opinion—and reaching out in solid Christian maturity. As rare as a hawk and a dove in the same nest on a cold winter’s night.