Senator Jay Rockefeller (D-WV)

October 23, 2006

Remarks Before the West Virginia Council of Churches

By Senator Jay Rockefeller

Reverend Sparks, I really can’t thank you enough for inviting me to be part of the West Virginia Council of Churches’ Annual Assembly.

I say that not only because yours is such an esteemed organization, but also because this morning gives me a chance to share some things I think about a great deal but don’t often discuss publicly – matters of the heart; matters of faith; and what I believe is our calling to carry out moral and religious values in the way we live and the way we govern.

But first, let me say a few words about you.

In my estimation the Council of Churches’ thoughtful work and advocacy is an absolutely shining example of what it really means to be a Christian. The Golden Rule -- “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” -- is the universal belief among all the major faiths worldwide. And the Council of Churches embodies that basic tenant and demonstrates the best of what people of faith can accomplish.

Whether serving the families and communities of the Sago mine disaster, or working with the Katrina survivors at Camp Dawson, or supporting the “Thanks! Plain and Simple Days” to honor West Virginians serving in the military -- you focus on West Virginians in need, and you use your influential voice to advocate for social and economic justice, affordable access to health and human services, and other critical needs.

I thank you for your Christian leadership and spiritual reflection.

Reflection, I fear, is a bit underrated in our country today – or perhaps just under-achieved. Absent a crisis we sometimes forget to take the time to reflect on ourselves, our communities, our country, and our world within a spiritual context.

In that sense, crises can sometimes help us to see clearly. 9-11 was one of those events that served as a catalyst for reflection. It brought many closer to God, to faith, to a critical analysis of how we fit together as brothers and sisters. We saw people line up to give blood or help strangers in almost any way they could.

The same amazing grace was shown in the face of tragedy with the Amish response this month. And in West Virginia, the Sago and Alma disasters made every West Virginian feel like those miners were members of our own families.

I have always thought that part of what makes West Virginia so special is that we are a faith community -- not only as church-going people, but also as people who believe deeply in God and who truly aspire to live each day in the image of Jesus.

Day in and day out West Virginians act on the call to do good. We are quick to take action to help fellow West Virginians, fellow Americans, and even fellow citizens of the world.

And America needs more of that today, not only in our neighborhoods and schools and workplaces, but also – especially -- in our government. America needs (and I pray for) a renewed commitment to policies of compassion – policies that affirmatively help our fellow man, rather than policies that shore up the strong and then sit back and wait for the benefits to “trickle down” to those most in need.

For me, the real catalyst for spiritual reflection came from my family and, maybe even more, my experiences as a young man.

The Rockefeller family has a strong religious tradition. My great grandfather’s mother, Eliza Davison (a devout Christian) instilled in her son a dominant faith and the practice of tithing. And he remained constant to that early teaching for close to a century.

To this day perhaps the most visible affirmation of Eliza Davison’s teaching is New York City’s Riverside Church. Its creation and construction was led by my Grandfather and the Reverend Dr. Harry Emerson Fosdick, who based their participation on three notable conditions:

First, the only requirement for membership would be an affirmation of faith in Christ. Second, the church would be interdenominational. And third, the church would be a large building with an expansive ministry to a neighborhood in substantial need.

All of which sounds very much like the requirement for membership in West Virginia’s Council of Churches.

And beyond the blessing of a faithful family – a family in which seriousness of purpose was always demanded -- I was also blessed with a few extraordinary and soul-provoking experiences as a young man.

I left Harvard in 1957 looking to find my own way. Fueled by my interest in other cultures, I went to study the Japanese language in Japan, and later, the Chinese language. I learned a great deal about the people of Asia and about myself. I discovered fortitude, brotherhood, humility and solitude.

Later, with the Kennedy/Johnson administration came a time when my friends, my values and my personal and public goals seemed to coalesce with the leadership of our country. So, I joined the administration to work with the Peace Corps, helping direct the Philippines program –and it was joyous to commit myself to such a great purpose—and then the State Department for two years, with a focus on Indonesia.

After my time in other countries, my best friend in the Peace Corps, Charlie Peters – from Charleston, WV --told me straight out that if I was serious about serving others and doing good, then I really needed to know more about my own country. He was right, of course. So, after reflection, I became a VISTA volunteer, and came to serve in West Virginia.

Looking back, I believe God was guiding me onto that road – He knew and I know I recognized that I was an incomplete person.

The year was 1964…I was 27 years old. I was searching for my real calling. And I came to the small mining community of Emmons, West Virginia. I thought for only one year. It was an enormous challenge for me. Here I was in Emmons, with these incredible, good people, who at first wanted almost nothing to do with me, and who had very little going for them.

It wasn’t their fault. It was America’s fault. And I came to be totally driven to try to help these 156 families on the Kanawha-Boone County line get a better shot at life -- families that had no health care; children who had never seen a dentist and never ridden a school bus; women who didn’t know they could avoid the fear of cancer with a simple yearly test; men who had only known coal mining but were surrounded by mines that had already played out.

We worked together. They slowly came to know and accept me. We failed at some efforts and succeeded at others; and they did far more to help me grow than I ever could do for them. But I gave myself to it completely. It was so much larger and more important than anything I’d ever done. I was working in the trenches. It was hard – and it was profoundly personal to me. It cleared my thinking and set my moral compass.

By the time my one year was up, I wanted to stay. And now, with more than forty years of hindsight, it is clear to me that I was meant to stay – that this was in fact God’s plan for me. And I say that with profound humility.

So I made West Virginia my home and my life’s work, and I have tried always to carry out that larger Christian purpose, in service to the people of our state and our nation.

I believe so strongly in the power of careful and compassionate government to improve lives. First as Governor and now as Senator, everything I do – every vote, every bill, every fight -- is rooted in my Emmons and West Virginia experience.

The issues that drive me to this day are health care and child care, jobs and economic fairness, security for our seniors and retirees, support for our troops and our veterans, government accountability, stewardship of the earth. They are the same issues that the Council cares about, and for me, they all go back to Emmons, my touchstone.

I don’t pretend to have all the answers. Emmons certainly taught me that.

But I do hope and pray that we might soon be able to put some of the ideological battle lines aside and return to a time of serious and compassionate governing.

Its time to get busy solving some of the enormous challenges we face:

like the 46 million Americans—8 million of whom are children—with no health insurance;
the 15 million working families who haven’t had a minimum wage increase in nine years;
programs like Pell grants, Head Start, and low-income housing that help those most in need and require more not less federal spending;
the demand for a national energy policy that protects our environment and our jobs;
the crisis of bankrupt pensions and abandoned retirees; and
the intractable and misguided war in Iraq, and great tragedy of our returning, wounded soldiers, with whom I spend a lot of time and who need and deserve our lifelong support.

These are tough issues – moral issues. And governing is a grave responsibility. But if we will take up the mantle, and hold firm to our moral compass, we can do these things.

Now, in closing, one point of personal privilege, if I may.

As some of you may know, I am a fairly intense student of the life and work of Johann Sebastian Bach. And most especially of his sacred music – the masses, cantatas, oratorios, and passions that elevate for me, in the most monumental way, the teachings of the Bible.

I wanted to share a part of that with you today because it is such a spiritual experience for me. Listening to Bach’s music is one of the things I do that brings me close to God. It’s when I reflect on what’s right, what’s wrong, what I don’t know and what I need to do better. It’s very powerful for me.

And because my theme here today is one of good works and compassion, I’ve chosen an excerpt that speaks to our relationship with Jesus.

This is from the St. Matthew Passion. The words are not from the Bible, but from Bach interpreting the Bible. It’s near the end, just after chapter 27, verses 51 to 58 of the Gospel of St. Matthew. Jesus has ascended into Heaven and Pilate has commanded that his body be delivered. And then the bass sings with indescribable beauty:

                        In the evening, when it was cool,
                       Adam’s fall was manifest.
                       In the evening the Redeemer casts him down;
                       In the evening the dove returned
                       and carried an olive leaf in its mouth.
                       O beautiful time! O evening hour!
                       Peace is now made with God,
                       for Jesus has endured His Cross.
                       His body comes to rest.
                       Ah, dear soul, prithee
                       go, bid them give thee the dead Jesus.
                       O wholesome, O precious keepsake.
                       Then, right after, comes the magnificent Aria: --“mache dich” (bass)
                       Make thyself clean, my heart,
                       I will myself entomb Jesus,
                       For He shall henceforth in me,
                       For ever and ever,
                       Take His sweet rest.
                       World begone, let Jesus in!

Thank you.

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Remarks Before the West Virginia Council of Churches

By Senator Jay Rockefeller