Pride Is the Bait on All Sorts of Hooks

by Curtis Shelburne

I RECEIVED a letter recently inviting me to shell out $35 for a volume entitled The World Book of Shelburnes.

According to the letter, “extensive work has been done throughout the world on a project relating to the distinguished Shelburne name.” This work will focus on Shelburnes “who immigrated to the New World between the 16th and early 20th centuries.”

Wow! That made me feel privileged. Absolutely unique. One of a kind. Wonder why they sent the letter bulk rate?

I read on. “The first Shelburne we found came to Charles Town, South Carolina, in 1767. Her name was Margaret.” Hmm.

“Shelburne” is plastered all over the letter. Twenty times in one page. Coupled more than once with the adjective “distinguished.”

Makes me wonder why they wrote in bold print on the order form: No direct genealogical connection to your family or to your ancestry is implied or intended. So they could just as easily have peddled The World Book of Shelburnes to Joneses, Smiths, or McGradys?

I hadn’t read a full paragraph into the letter before I recognized that old “Hang on to your wallet! The circus is in town!” feeling.

Pardon me, but I’m pretty sure peddlers who pitch to our pride almost always speak with forked tongues.

It happened in Eden, remember? The combination of a smooth-talking serpent, Adam and Eve’s lack of sales resistance, and an unvarnished appeal to sinful pride (“Eat this, and you’ll be like God!”) brought cockleburs to Paradise.

I’m very happy to wear the Shelburne name and to pass it on to my sons, but I’m pretty sure a little real research would turn up a horse thief or two.

I’m pleased and proud to be an American, a Texan, a citizen of Muleshoe, but I’m not such a mule that I’m blind to weaknesses or unaware that some other fine nations, states, and cities exist of which citizens might be justifiably proud.

If I read my Bible correctly, there is, for those who wear the name of Christ, a great deal of room for pride in Christ and the cross but precious little room indeed for arrogance regarding “my” group, “my” sect, “my” righteousness, “my” tradition.

Whenever you suspect a peddler on your porch, at a political rally, in a pulpit, or using a bulk mail permit is baiting you with pride, watch out! Some unscrupulous angler is getting ready to set the hook and reel you in.