by Fred Moleck
Forty Years of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood
Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood first aired on public television in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, on February 19, 1968. Pittsburgh celebrates these forty years of the Neighborhood as part of the treasury of PBS. On May 3, 2003, a memorial service for Fred Rogers was held in Pittsburgh’s Heinz Hall. I am rerunning a past TableTalk this week to commemorate this historic event.
The Anamnesis of Fred Rogers
On Saturday afternoon on May 3, 2003, people gathered in Heinz Hall in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, to commemorate the life and art of Fred Rogers, the foremost champion of children’s rights and the rights of all humans.
(With a name like Heinz Hall, why would you be surprised that it is in Pittsburgh?)
Why in Pittsburgh?
Because Mr. Rogers and his wife have been residents of Pittsburgh, neighbors to about half of the people who attended.
Mr. Rogers is native to western Pennsylvania. Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood can be found in the studios of Pittsburgh’s WQED, the grandparent of all PBS television stations. It is in Studio A where one can find the trolley to the Neighborhood and the castle of King Friday.
I have never experienced such a grace-filled ninety minutes in my life, and that includes my trip to Taizé. We remembered Fred by living witnesses who proclaimed their falling under his assurance that we were all special.
There were music tributes, which included a specially prepared video clip of Yo Yo Mah, who chatted briefly and then overwhelmed us with his cello. He was on a concert tour “overseas,” but there was no time and distance separating him from the discipleship of Fred Rogers.
Itzhak Perlman appeared in a cameo—he was not part of the program—and spoke with great affection both verbally and with his sublime violin music.
From an inner-city Presbyterian minister to the archabbot of the local Benedictine monastery, all gave particular witness to the man who helped in the formation of young minds and hearts just because he thought they were special.
Each individual in the crowd of two thousand had a connection to Fred in some fashion. Some were just avid fans and followers.
Some of us had the honor of working with him.
Some of us enjoyed a relationship with him in various levels of familiarity.
But all of us knew that he thought we were special and all of us knew how special he was to millions, and that included us.
We remembered and continue to remember. What exploded in my mind about two-thirds into the program was that we were in anamnesis, the remembering of the person in an event who was miraculously present to all of us.
We told the stories. We heard the witnesses who were touched by Fred’s grace. We gazed on the icons by way of film clips of the Neighborhood’s history.
The symbols were the reality. Liturgists would recognize this “remembering,” the anamnesis, as essential to liturgy. Again, Fred Rogers nourished us and assured us that we were still “special.”
An incredible peace flooded the room.
Earlier, as many of us were coming to the entrance of Heinz Hall, our attention had been diverted to a protest group of religious right-wingers who were viciously hateful of homosexuals.
They condemned the conviction of Fred Rogers that all people were worthy of honor and respect no matter what their preferences in life style or social standing were.
Needless to say, we were furious.
Well, by the time we settled into the rhythm of the memorializing, the anger dissolved. By the time we were “recessionaling” out of the building, the cadre of protesters had disappeared from the street and from our minds.
No one knew just when the peace set in, but we all knew that we were at peace. Who knows? Maybe this peace just might be the peace that “transcends all human understanding.”
You can reach Fred Moleck via email at fmoleck@comcast.net