I'm an early riser: this morning, 3:30.
When I awake, that's it.
My mind hums with energy.
Yet, I think: I should sleep a little longer.
But to no avail.
Books to read demand my presence.
So, I'm up, with cheer.
Some pills and a shave.
Teeth brushed ... I start the day.
Into the kitchen.
A cuppa via yesterday's brew heated in the micro.
Some walking devotions:
"Hail Mary full of Grace ..."
"I believe in God the Father Almighty ..."
"Our Father who art in heaven ..."
"Almighty God, unto whom all hearts are open ..."
And then my 40 days of prayer journal.
Each name or need announced aloud, or silently.
The refrain: "Jesus my LORD."
And the date duly noted.
I pray for friends, near and far.
Sometimes strangers and ideas and darker things.
Some prayers are given 80 days.
Or 120,
Or the days of my life, as long as I should live.
Prayer is fitting for a season, as it goes.
The crisis passes; the need is met.
The journal page is lifted out of its three-ring binder.
And put away in the binder pocket.
And only later, tossed out.
Some pages are full with tiny columns of dates.
And occasional comments.
Ceaseless prayer.
As love never ends.
Then some coffee prepped for D.
When she awakens, out to the kitchen she wanders.
"Good Morning Dear Friend," I might say.
Or some other endearment, of a very long list.
Mostly sweet and some pretty silly.
She smiles and flips the switch.
I'll drink what's left tomorrow.
Sunday, December 15, 2019
Sunday, November 24, 2019
November 24, 2019, "The Good Shepherd" - El Monte Community Presbyterian Church
Jeremiah 23.1-6; Luke 1.68-79
“Are we there yet?” the child asks, for the umpteenth time.
“Not yet!” says Mom … “we have a few more hours to go.”
And ten minutes later, “Are we there yet?”
And so it goes … on a journey.
And we’ve been on our own journey for 12 months … we’ve done this journey before, many times … a 12-month trip … a trip through time … it began last December, with the First Sunday of Advent … and the journey ends today … we’ve arrived … the last Sunday of the liturgical year … Christ the King Sunday.
Long live the King.
In many a hymn, we sing of Christ the King:
Crown him with many crowns,
the Lamb upon his throne.
Hark! how the heavenly anthem drowns
all music but its own.
Awake, my soul, and sing
of him who died for thee,
and hail him as thy matchless king
through all eternity.
The hymn goes on:
Crown him the LORD of life.
Then,
Crown him the LORD of love.
Ending with:
Crown him the LORD of years.
When it comes to kings and queens as such, we’re not likely to think of Christ as King … and here in America, we fought a revolution to rid ourselves of King George.
Kings mostly are known for their ruthless ways, power and dominance … and so are queens and dukes and baronesses … royalty doesn’t fare well in the annals of history.
Some of us may follow the British Royal Family, or for my wife and I, maybe the Netherlands Royal Family … my son did a three-year stint in the Peace Corps, working in Swaziland, a small nations governed by a king mostly obsessed with his wealth and many wives.
Much of the Old Testament is about kings and queens … and some of them were good, and most of them weren’t … all of them had blood on their hands … as is the wont of kings and queens, Caesars and Pharaohs … those who rule by the sword.
The Prophets promised us a king, a king never seen before on the face of the earth … a king of peace and hope … a king with clean hands, a king of love and justice … a king, not of territory, but of the whole world … a king for all of humankind …
But a king of a very different kind:
Jeremiah longs for the Good Shepherd …
The good shepherd who guides and guards the flock … the LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want … he maketh to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters, he restoreth my soul …
When John the Baptist is born, his father sings of things to come … God’s mercy and God’s peace … a new day and a new age … and John would be the forerunner, the one to announce the new thing God is doing … it’s John who points to Jesus and calls him The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.
The Lamb of God, the King of Glory … the King of Glory, the Good Shepherd …
The final word.
The ultimate reality.
The foundation of all that’s right and good, decent and honest.
The goal toward which every heart strives.
The goal of a righteous world.
A world created not by war, but with wisdom.
A world not of conquest, but a world of covenant.
Not of guns, but of grace.
Not of boundaries, but the boundless love of God.
Jeremiah redefines power as kindness …
We see these images all over the Bible … complimenting one another …
The first two chapters of the Bible, two different stories, from two different sources:
The first chapter of Genesis is very much the image of a King, high and lifted up, whose word is powerful and purposeful … who creates with ease and composure, who speaks a word, and so it is … morning and night, the heavens and the earth.
The second chapter of Genesis shows God as an artist, a God with gentle hand, who takes a handful of dirt, carefully shapes a creature; a leg and an arm, a rib here and some muscle there, the eye and the nose, the ear and the mouth … and then, breathing into it, God brings the little creature to life.
When ancient Israel compiled its sacred texts, the ancient editors understood that faith needed both stories … that power needed to be tempered by kindness, and kindness needed to be backed up by power.
We see this playing out in the Elijah story - the confrontation of the Prophet with the Priests of Baal - it’s dramatic, violent, bloody, fiery - the ultimate expression of power, raw and brutal … but it goes sour for Elijah, because that’s what happens with raw, brutal power - it goes sour … and Elijah runs for his life, into the wilderness … he’s fed by an angel, and finally Elijah makes his way to the cave … “What are you doing here,” God asks, and Elijah replies, “Well, I’ve been busy killing the priests of Baal, and I’m the only faithful guy you’ve got.”
God tells Elijah to stand on a mountain and pay attention … then came a great wind, strong enough to split the rocks … then an earthquake, and finally a great fire … and the Bible says: God wasn’t in any of it.
And then comes the silence, the deep and unnerving silence of holiness … when all of creation holds its breath … quiet now … pay attention … listen … and in the quietness, God.
We see it in the Birth Story … the raw power of Herod out to kill, and Gentle Mary and her child, wrapped in simple cloth, in a manger, in a stable behind the inn.
We see it in the contrast between Pilate and Jesus … Pilate, a man full of power, and Jesus, filled with the Spirit … Pilate, a man of sword and soldier; Jesus, the man of love and mercy.
We see the same in the Book of Revelation - the angel asks, “Who’s worthy to open the scroll?”
“The Lion of Judah,” says the angel … and when John looks for the lion, what does he see? He’s see a Lamb, the Lamb of God.
We see this played out in the Apostles Creed, in the very words, I believe in God the Father almighty …
In one breath, God … and in the next, Father … the God and Father of our LORD Jesus Christ …
And in the LORD’s prayer, Our Father, who art in heaven …
God as our Father, and our Father in heaven as God - in God, the perfect union of absolute power and eternal love … and in Jesus Christ God’s Son, and in the Holy Spirit, the Giver of Life.
For Jesus, the word Father speaks of goodness, wisdom and kindness: but for some of us, the word “father” is frightening and sad.
Some of us were reared by angry fathers … fathers so unsure of themselves, they could only respond to life with violence and abusive words … some fathers ran away and abandoned their families.
Too many fathers hit their children, and too many fathers hit their wives … yes, domestic abuse is real and it’s sad and it’s wrong.
I hope all of you can hear the goodness and gentleness of the word “Father” as Jesus gives to us “our Father in heaven,” by the Hand of the Holy Spirit, the Giver of Life … that every father here will learn from the Father in Heaven, and every child here will come to know the Father of us all, through Jesus Christ our LORD.
On this good Sunday.
Christ the King Sunday.
All glory, laud and honor to the King of kings and the LORD of lords …
In the scheme of things, I love the fact that Christ the King Sunday lines up with a national holiday, Thanksgiving … for no word better characterizes our life as Christians: We are those who give thanks.
We give thanks for the love of God.
We give thanks for one another.
We give thanks for the gospel of our LORD Jesus Christ.
And in the room next door, right after worship, we give thanks for good food, family and friends.
And this coming Thursday, of course, of all the glories of a Thanksgiving Table, we give thanks for mashed potatoes.
To God be the glory. Hallelujah and Amen!
Evangelicalism's New Mantra
Evangelical preaching's new mantra: "if you're more disturbed by the sin out there than by the sin within, your faith needs some work."
The old stuff of the Olde South, or Moody Bible, "smokin', drinkin', and cussin', and card playin' and goin' to movies, too" - all bad, so let's preach about it, and preach about it like hell.
In the newer, more up-to-date, guise, the preacher as therapist and the church as couch-cult - inner peace, and better parenting, being a more loving spouse and a better worker, and getting ahead in life, fighting debit and growing rich, and then going to heaven, and so on.
In the Olde South, slavery and war, and then Jim Crow ... and through out the nation, in places like North Dakota and Wisconsin, the devils of racism, homophobia and Betsy DeVos and her schemes to further the interest of wealth at the expense of everyone else.
The "sins within" are seductive, stealing our time, and dominating our prayers, as we cascade into ourselves all the more, obsessing about every spiritual flaw and hiccup, every little blemish of the soul, and every wrinkle in our spirit.
Meanwhile, the world burns, and we go to church to forget the world, and what better way to forget the world (which is really forgetting God), is to focus on our "inner sins." There we go, now we got it - self, self, and more self ... in the quest for spiritual perfection, inner peace, health, wealth and happiness. The church becomes a dispenser of hair coloring and wrinkle cream, nostrums and snake oil.
Preach on preacher and tell me about myself ... but, preacher, please, whatever you do, don't talk about the environment, global warming, or children in cages, or the lies spewing out of the mouths of our leaders, or the greed of Wall Street and the madness of might and power.
Don't talk about the "sins our there," because then I have do something about them ... I have to resist and protest, get organized and get involved, and fight for justice and peace.
I don't wanna bother with that - I want to deal with my inner peace and my nerves.
That my nerves and lack of inner peace might be connected to the "sins out there," I don't wanna hear it.
I wanna feel better; I don't want to be called by Christ to take up the cross of the world, the world's pain and sorrow, the injustice of the places where I work, the cruelty of racism which I mostly want to ignore, even as my neighbors buy their guns and hang confederate flags in their home, and I move to neighborhoods where everyone looks like me.
Nope, I don't wanna hear about any of that "sin out there stuff" ... I want to homeschool my children, or send them to private christian academies, so they don't have to deal with other religions and cultures, so they won't have to think about "the other America" and the children at the border, so they won't have read great literature and learn about science, and learn how to think for themselves. Thinking is painful, and we don't need any of it. We all just want inner peace, and a few charities we can support, so we can feel good about the "good" we're doing.
Ok preacher?
You got that? I hope you do.
The old stuff of the Olde South, or Moody Bible, "smokin', drinkin', and cussin', and card playin' and goin' to movies, too" - all bad, so let's preach about it, and preach about it like hell.
In the newer, more up-to-date, guise, the preacher as therapist and the church as couch-cult - inner peace, and better parenting, being a more loving spouse and a better worker, and getting ahead in life, fighting debit and growing rich, and then going to heaven, and so on.
In the Olde South, slavery and war, and then Jim Crow ... and through out the nation, in places like North Dakota and Wisconsin, the devils of racism, homophobia and Betsy DeVos and her schemes to further the interest of wealth at the expense of everyone else.
The "sins within" are seductive, stealing our time, and dominating our prayers, as we cascade into ourselves all the more, obsessing about every spiritual flaw and hiccup, every little blemish of the soul, and every wrinkle in our spirit.
Meanwhile, the world burns, and we go to church to forget the world, and what better way to forget the world (which is really forgetting God), is to focus on our "inner sins." There we go, now we got it - self, self, and more self ... in the quest for spiritual perfection, inner peace, health, wealth and happiness. The church becomes a dispenser of hair coloring and wrinkle cream, nostrums and snake oil.
Preach on preacher and tell me about myself ... but, preacher, please, whatever you do, don't talk about the environment, global warming, or children in cages, or the lies spewing out of the mouths of our leaders, or the greed of Wall Street and the madness of might and power.
Don't talk about the "sins our there," because then I have do something about them ... I have to resist and protest, get organized and get involved, and fight for justice and peace.
I don't wanna bother with that - I want to deal with my inner peace and my nerves.
That my nerves and lack of inner peace might be connected to the "sins out there," I don't wanna hear it.
I wanna feel better; I don't want to be called by Christ to take up the cross of the world, the world's pain and sorrow, the injustice of the places where I work, the cruelty of racism which I mostly want to ignore, even as my neighbors buy their guns and hang confederate flags in their home, and I move to neighborhoods where everyone looks like me.
Nope, I don't wanna hear about any of that "sin out there stuff" ... I want to homeschool my children, or send them to private christian academies, so they don't have to deal with other religions and cultures, so they won't have to think about "the other America" and the children at the border, so they won't have read great literature and learn about science, and learn how to think for themselves. Thinking is painful, and we don't need any of it. We all just want inner peace, and a few charities we can support, so we can feel good about the "good" we're doing.
Ok preacher?
You got that? I hope you do.
Monday, November 11, 2019
Ten Thousand Graves
Ten thousand graves
Normandy
Ten thousand graves ...
Tended with care ... lush grass precisely trimmed.
Crosses mostly ... and Stars of David ...
Young men and women cut down in the prime of life.
They were brave and they were afraid ...
Their pictures reveal that haunted look ...
Of soldiers too tired to be afraid,
And too frightened to find sleep.
Seasick and wet,
They hit the beach …
Under the cover of …
Steel and smoke.
Death and tears abound …
Ahead, my friends, ahead.
There’s no going back now.
No stopping for any of us.
A continent enslaved awaits the charge.
Nations, yes, and then some, to be unshackled …
And the years pass us by quickly …
Memories roll beyond the reach of words …
Silent tears still shed …
By those who made it home.
Slowly, now, they join their comrades,
As we all do … with the passage of time.
Hand-in-hand; arm-in-arm … a band of brothers …
A chorus of sisters …
Smoke and steel …
And a victory in hand.
And may those
Ten thousand graves remain ever well-tended!
© Tom Eggebeen, 2010
Strolling among those graves, on a bright, sunny, Normandy day, we each paused from time-to-time by a grave, for no other reason than our feet stopped moving … and we’d read the name, the dates … I set out to find the date of my birthday, July 7, 1944 … I found two graves - two soldiers who died, and who knows how, while a squalling baby Eggebeen entered this too often sordid world, in the early morning, it was, Sheboygan, WI, Memorial Hospital, on the north side of town, on the shores of Lake Michigan. I remember standing by those two graves in Normandy, and I kept saying “thank you.”
I didn’t have any choice to be born - that’s how it is for us - either by design, or by chance, we’re conceived, and if things work out, we make it nine months in our mother’s womb.
And those soldiers, too, they were born like most are, in the hopes and joys of a family … and they went to school and had big dreams, and played cops and robbers and then dated, and found love, and maybe lost it … and then a war … and however it was, those bright and eager lives were abruptly ended, too soon ended, and families received the news they all dreaded to receive, and they wept … the remains of a loved one, now, to remain in
Europe, where they fell … and life goes on, sort of, but something missing, always … death does that to a family, to towns all across America … the missing ones, buried across the sea …
Europe, where they fell … and life goes on, sort of, but something missing, always … death does that to a family, to towns all across America … the missing ones, buried across the sea …
Do the buried ones have a voice?
Perhaps they do … a singular voice, a quiet voice, from the grave - “Why?” Their question, if they have one, to us … who yet live. “Why?”
The eleventh month, the eleventh day, at eleven o’clock in the morning, the Armistice was signed … to end the war that was so horrible and violent, folks thought it might be the “war to end all wars” …
We do well today to honor the dead … and to hear their quiet voice, with their quiet question, “Why?”
We are a warring species … for good reasons, and for lousy reasons, we kill one another … if not with the tools of war, then with words … and a host of other devices so cleverly woven in our behavior - of how we treat one another, the things we say, the glance that says it all, the flipped eyebrow, and so on and so forth.
On this good day, to search our souls … and pay attention to the gospel of our LORD Jesus Christ … that by the Spirit of mercy, and kindness, to quiet within ourselves, the darker thoughts that breed the stuff of harm.
And to pray for our nation and its leaders, that the darker materials of violence and death would be better managed by faith, hope and love.
On this day, Nov. 11 … God’s Peace, and Amen!
Friday, July 19, 2019
Hell's Version of Creation
The rich grow richer ...
The evangelicals have their judges and
A sec of education dismantling public education ...
The malcontents have a new lease for bigotry and racism.
It will take a mighty effort for this nation
To find its better angels
As the evil angels have hit us with a vengeance.
Stranger Things, indeed.
The Liar in Chief has opened the gate
And hell is pouring through.
Lots of people profit from hell.
Always have, always will.
Hell offers and hell delivers.
For the time being.
But only and ultimately only to destroy.
... Everything.
Hell's version of creation.
Not light, but pitch dark death.
The death of faith, hope and love.
The end of grace, mercy and peace.
It has always been this way.
And only with effort can we find again
Our better angels.
It can be done.
It has been done.
It will be done.
And with tremendous effort.
With terrible damage already inflicted.
Before the demons take flight.
To my friends and family, remain faithful.
Stay engaged.
And vote ... for heaven's sake, vote.
No one's perfect, but the philosophy of
Our better angels is clear:
Freedom:
For women to choose.
For marriage equality.
For better wages and better schools.
For universal health care.
For our National Parks.
For the whales and the wolves.
For all of God's creatures, great and small.
Thy Kingdom come.
Thy will be done.
On earth as it is in heaven.
The evangelicals have their judges and
A sec of education dismantling public education ...
The malcontents have a new lease for bigotry and racism.
It will take a mighty effort for this nation
To find its better angels
As the evil angels have hit us with a vengeance.
Stranger Things, indeed.
The Liar in Chief has opened the gate
And hell is pouring through.
Lots of people profit from hell.
Always have, always will.
Hell offers and hell delivers.
For the time being.
But only and ultimately only to destroy.
... Everything.
Hell's version of creation.
Not light, but pitch dark death.
The death of faith, hope and love.
The end of grace, mercy and peace.
It has always been this way.
And only with effort can we find again
Our better angels.
It can be done.
It has been done.
It will be done.
And with tremendous effort.
With terrible damage already inflicted.
Before the demons take flight.
To my friends and family, remain faithful.
Stay engaged.
And vote ... for heaven's sake, vote.
No one's perfect, but the philosophy of
Our better angels is clear:
Freedom:
For women to choose.
For marriage equality.
For better wages and better schools.
For universal health care.
For our National Parks.
For the whales and the wolves.
For all of God's creatures, great and small.
Thy Kingdom come.
Thy will be done.
On earth as it is in heaven.
Friday, July 5, 2019
All We have to Fear is Freedom
As best as I can tell, evangelicals fear freedom:
Their opposition to abortion is less a care for the fetus than a fear of a woman's freedom to choose. They can't really say that, so they dress it all up in a pretended care for the unborn.
Their opposition to euthanasia is less a care for life than a fear of someone's freedom to choose.
Their support of the death penalty, a tit for tat response, requires no thought, and no care for justice, because justice demands thought, and thought requires freedom. The criminal violated the law, as they see it, and while that's true, the evangelical is content to see the death penalty as th final elimination of freedom - theirs in the deliberative process and that of the criminal.
Their labeling of climate change as a hoax is less a regard for truth, or God's purposes, or whatever, as it is a fear of responsibility, which is an element of freedom.
Their love of the military stems from their fear of the other's freedom, and the need to build a wall against the other's freedom, whether that freedom be a mother and a child crossing the border or Iran building its own nuclear weapons. The evangelical cannot allow that kind of freedom, so they join the military and learn how to kill freedom for others, even as they salute and march in lockstep with one another, having long ago surrendered their freedom to half-wit preachers, narcissistic politicians and their "almighty" gawd.
Their approval of fascism is linked to their need for order, complete order, an order that no longer needs thinking, because thinking requires freedom, the freedom to consider choices and options, and that's deeply disturbing to the evangelical mind. There is only one way to interpret the Bible, only one way to worship, only one way to live. In that kind of mindset, freedom is a bother, a threat.
Their need for a "sovereign" god who approves of rape is driven by their fear of freedom ... there has to be plan for all of this suffering, so rather than challenging the nature of suffering, which requires their responsibility, and likely requires regard for the woman/girl and her life, and her right to choose, they lay it all at the feet of god, walk away, as Pilate did, washing their hands of responsibility, care, concern and love, and then sanctimoniously tell the girl that her pregnancy is of god, and she darn well better carry that fetus to term.
And with that, not even their god has any more freedom. And without freedom, there is no love; only rules and regulations, guns and violence, enforced by fear, the fear of freedom.
Their opposition to abortion is less a care for the fetus than a fear of a woman's freedom to choose. They can't really say that, so they dress it all up in a pretended care for the unborn.
Their opposition to euthanasia is less a care for life than a fear of someone's freedom to choose.
Their support of the death penalty, a tit for tat response, requires no thought, and no care for justice, because justice demands thought, and thought requires freedom. The criminal violated the law, as they see it, and while that's true, the evangelical is content to see the death penalty as th final elimination of freedom - theirs in the deliberative process and that of the criminal.
Their labeling of climate change as a hoax is less a regard for truth, or God's purposes, or whatever, as it is a fear of responsibility, which is an element of freedom.
Their love of the military stems from their fear of the other's freedom, and the need to build a wall against the other's freedom, whether that freedom be a mother and a child crossing the border or Iran building its own nuclear weapons. The evangelical cannot allow that kind of freedom, so they join the military and learn how to kill freedom for others, even as they salute and march in lockstep with one another, having long ago surrendered their freedom to half-wit preachers, narcissistic politicians and their "almighty" gawd.
Their approval of fascism is linked to their need for order, complete order, an order that no longer needs thinking, because thinking requires freedom, the freedom to consider choices and options, and that's deeply disturbing to the evangelical mind. There is only one way to interpret the Bible, only one way to worship, only one way to live. In that kind of mindset, freedom is a bother, a threat.
Their need for a "sovereign" god who approves of rape is driven by their fear of freedom ... there has to be plan for all of this suffering, so rather than challenging the nature of suffering, which requires their responsibility, and likely requires regard for the woman/girl and her life, and her right to choose, they lay it all at the feet of god, walk away, as Pilate did, washing their hands of responsibility, care, concern and love, and then sanctimoniously tell the girl that her pregnancy is of god, and she darn well better carry that fetus to term.
And with that, not even their god has any more freedom. And without freedom, there is no love; only rules and regulations, guns and violence, enforced by fear, the fear of freedom.
Monday, June 24, 2019
Supporting Abortion Rights
To support abortion rights, one has to care ... to love ... for
More than the fetus.
But the mother, too, and the family, and then seek some understanding of the situation, the many pieces involved in such a decision, because life is complicated.
To seek the end of Roe v. Wade, one has to limit the scope of care and knowledge, reducing everything down to the fetus, and in the process damning the mother, calling her names, supporting the "rights" of a rapist father over against that of the mother ... and all sorts of other mean-spirited thoughts and laws.
It doesn't take long to see the harshness of heart driving the anti-abortion community ... they really don't care about the conditions of life, but only their ideas of life.
To want to criminalize abortion, one has to trim the energy of love down to just about nothing, and then ramp up the anti-abortion rhetoric, and dress it all up with religious language, to justify the shrunken love and still manage feel good (though the shouting and ferocity of their moods belie the claim of righteousness).
A loving heart acknowledges the wholeness of a person and their life ... all the elements, all the pieces, all the actors and all the moments.
And, fundamentally, essentially, a loving heart trusts that most people will make a thoughtful decision, and then, even when "thoughtful decisions" are not likely, driven they might be by panic and fear, and even irresponsibility, to still trust God Almighty, to be, faithfully, at work in all things, for good.
In the Romans passage, Paul adds, "for those who love God," which is to say, those who love God can certainly trust God in all matters of life and death, but that doesn't mean the negative for those who may not know God in any coherent sense. The work of God throughout creation is for all of God's creatures, great and small, including those who are lost in the sorrows and hurt of life, and likely, most especially, the lost and the confused.
To support abortion rights, there can never, ever, be a moment when one can label a rapist and the ensuing pregnancy as "gawd's will." This is an ultimate cruelty revealing the bankruptcy of thought and faith in those religious circles wherein law trumps mercy.
Never ... ever ... dress up such evil with good ... never.
Ah, you who call evil good
and good evil,
who put darkness for light
and light for darkness,
who put bitter for sweet
and sweet for bitter! ... ... ... Isaiah 5.20.
More than the fetus.
But the mother, too, and the family, and then seek some understanding of the situation, the many pieces involved in such a decision, because life is complicated.
To seek the end of Roe v. Wade, one has to limit the scope of care and knowledge, reducing everything down to the fetus, and in the process damning the mother, calling her names, supporting the "rights" of a rapist father over against that of the mother ... and all sorts of other mean-spirited thoughts and laws.
It doesn't take long to see the harshness of heart driving the anti-abortion community ... they really don't care about the conditions of life, but only their ideas of life.
To want to criminalize abortion, one has to trim the energy of love down to just about nothing, and then ramp up the anti-abortion rhetoric, and dress it all up with religious language, to justify the shrunken love and still manage feel good (though the shouting and ferocity of their moods belie the claim of righteousness).
A loving heart acknowledges the wholeness of a person and their life ... all the elements, all the pieces, all the actors and all the moments.
And, fundamentally, essentially, a loving heart trusts that most people will make a thoughtful decision, and then, even when "thoughtful decisions" are not likely, driven they might be by panic and fear, and even irresponsibility, to still trust God Almighty, to be, faithfully, at work in all things, for good.
In the Romans passage, Paul adds, "for those who love God," which is to say, those who love God can certainly trust God in all matters of life and death, but that doesn't mean the negative for those who may not know God in any coherent sense. The work of God throughout creation is for all of God's creatures, great and small, including those who are lost in the sorrows and hurt of life, and likely, most especially, the lost and the confused.
To support abortion rights, there can never, ever, be a moment when one can label a rapist and the ensuing pregnancy as "gawd's will." This is an ultimate cruelty revealing the bankruptcy of thought and faith in those religious circles wherein law trumps mercy.
Never ... ever ... dress up such evil with good ... never.
Ah, you who call evil good
and good evil,
who put darkness for light
and light for darkness,
who put bitter for sweet
and sweet for bitter! ... ... ... Isaiah 5.20.
Saturday, June 1, 2019
Gay Pride
Thinking a bit about Gay Pride.
Transgender.
Me and mine.
We're all a hodgepodge of nature and nurture.
Mystery and mayhem.
And who knows what?
Those who fixate on sin can't stand it.
They gotta have answers.
Binary answers.
Yes, no.
Right, wrong.
Up, down.
Good, bad.
Male, female.
Sin-fixation requires delineation.
But delineation fails.
Fails to be real.
But, heck.
Who needs real.
When we can count sins.
Anyway, life is fluid.
Flexible.
Not fixed.
We transition.
Transform.
Move along some kind of continuum.
A calculus of mystery.
Beyond comprehension.
But here we are.
A wonderful holy confusion.
Which is what the Trinity is.
Nothing to pin down.
The only real choice?
Welcome.
Peace.
Joy:
Diversity.
Splendor.
Ok?
Good to go.
Love!
Transgender.
Me and mine.
We're all a hodgepodge of nature and nurture.
Mystery and mayhem.
And who knows what?
Those who fixate on sin can't stand it.
They gotta have answers.
Binary answers.
Yes, no.
Right, wrong.
Up, down.
Good, bad.
Male, female.
Sin-fixation requires delineation.
But delineation fails.
Fails to be real.
But, heck.
Who needs real.
When we can count sins.
Anyway, life is fluid.
Flexible.
Not fixed.
We transition.
Transform.
Move along some kind of continuum.
A calculus of mystery.
Beyond comprehension.
But here we are.
A wonderful holy confusion.
Which is what the Trinity is.
Nothing to pin down.
The only real choice?
Welcome.
Peace.
Joy:
Diversity.
Splendor.
Ok?
Good to go.
Love!
Saturday, April 13, 2019
The Unfound Finding God
Save me, O God,
From ever finding you.
From ever finding you.
For you are the finding God.
Never the found one.
Never the found one.
For what is found is only prideful illusion.
What I find of you is what I pretend to find.
What I find of you is what I pretend to find.
So, let me be content.
To never finding you.
To never finding you.
For it is you, dear God.
Who finds me!
Who finds me!
Wednesday, March 27, 2019
We Will Recover
The genius of American Democracy is that neither "side" should ever gain a permanent victory.
The nature of the beast should then always offer a degree of tension, and likely frustration, too, as the two sides vie with one another to implement their vision (and it most always boils down to two sides, here or in other parts of the world).
When Eisenhower agreed to run for the Presidency, he became a Republican, believing that the US has been in the hands of the Democrats for too long. Emotionally, politically, Eisenhower could well have been a Democrat, too. But he wanted to balance the system.
For me, we're in a period of time when the Oligarchy has essentially taken the upper hand, using both Republicans and Democrats to game the government for their advantage. America, more than ever, has fallen in love with money, fame, fortune, and the power associated with all of it. And for millions more, who always seem to be locked out of the house of plenty, a deep and often violent resentment fueled by tribalism and fear.
It's always been about money, but somewhere along the line, the scales were tipped toward a particularly venomous version of money - no longer the WASP sense of duty to a nation, or even a semblance of some kind of Christian or Jewish orientation, but now just greed, and hanging around the edges of power, those in the tattered rags of evangelicalism yapping on about Cyrus and Israel, and a whole of biblical cockamamie.
Democracy is threatened, as I see it.
Yet, we will recover, not because we're Americans, or because we're the apple of God's eye, but because we're human beings, and this is how history totters along, always out of balance, and always seeking balance, and sometimes, in those brilliant moments of peace and wellbeing, actually achieves some degree of balance, wherein the two sides, locked in struggle, enable the better angels.
Empires come and empires go ... and along the way, enormous suffering, and always war. Yet science discovers, musicians compose, poets write, historians publish, people fall in love, children are born, some rise to greatness of heart and vision, and lead nations to better days.
It pays to be cynical in order to be honest about humanity's inhumanity to itself ... but it pays to be hopeful lest one give up and sink into despair or some form of quiet hedonism. As long as poets write and artists tell their stories, there is hope for tomorrow.
I don't know the timeline. A physician-friend said to me a few days back about socialized healthcare - "We'll eventually get there, but not likely in our lifetime."
He may be right, but I hope he's not, and I hope that we can move things along a bit more swiftly.
The nature of the beast should then always offer a degree of tension, and likely frustration, too, as the two sides vie with one another to implement their vision (and it most always boils down to two sides, here or in other parts of the world).
When Eisenhower agreed to run for the Presidency, he became a Republican, believing that the US has been in the hands of the Democrats for too long. Emotionally, politically, Eisenhower could well have been a Democrat, too. But he wanted to balance the system.
For me, we're in a period of time when the Oligarchy has essentially taken the upper hand, using both Republicans and Democrats to game the government for their advantage. America, more than ever, has fallen in love with money, fame, fortune, and the power associated with all of it. And for millions more, who always seem to be locked out of the house of plenty, a deep and often violent resentment fueled by tribalism and fear.
It's always been about money, but somewhere along the line, the scales were tipped toward a particularly venomous version of money - no longer the WASP sense of duty to a nation, or even a semblance of some kind of Christian or Jewish orientation, but now just greed, and hanging around the edges of power, those in the tattered rags of evangelicalism yapping on about Cyrus and Israel, and a whole of biblical cockamamie.
Democracy is threatened, as I see it.
Yet, we will recover, not because we're Americans, or because we're the apple of God's eye, but because we're human beings, and this is how history totters along, always out of balance, and always seeking balance, and sometimes, in those brilliant moments of peace and wellbeing, actually achieves some degree of balance, wherein the two sides, locked in struggle, enable the better angels.
Empires come and empires go ... and along the way, enormous suffering, and always war. Yet science discovers, musicians compose, poets write, historians publish, people fall in love, children are born, some rise to greatness of heart and vision, and lead nations to better days.
It pays to be cynical in order to be honest about humanity's inhumanity to itself ... but it pays to be hopeful lest one give up and sink into despair or some form of quiet hedonism. As long as poets write and artists tell their stories, there is hope for tomorrow.
I don't know the timeline. A physician-friend said to me a few days back about socialized healthcare - "We'll eventually get there, but not likely in our lifetime."
He may be right, but I hope he's not, and I hope that we can move things along a bit more swiftly.
Tuesday, March 19, 2019
Americans Have Been Dazzled ...
Americans have been dazzled out of their brains by wealth.
We love it.
The thought of it.
And having it someday ourselves.
Our preachers have taught us get-up-and-go.
Our teachers have taught us how to have a career.
Our preachers failed often, too often, about love.
Our teachers failed often, too often, about daring to think.
America's god is really, truly, thoroughly, crazily, Mammon.
TV, books, prayer meetings, continuing education, and seminars.
It's all about wealth.
Who has it.
Who doesn't.
Meanwhile the wealthy go about their sordid lives.
Using charity to dazzle us.
We puff up with admiration for these "kindly" people.
Who, like the rich of Jesus' time.
Make sure everyone sees them with their bags of gold.
Dropping them loudly into the treasuries of human pride.
Meanwhile the widow, gamed by the system, thinks it's the thing to do.
And maybe it is.
So she gives, too.
Her two pennies.
The last she has.
Jesus loves her for it.
But he does't love the system that betrays her in.
A system that takes.
Her last two pennies.
And her house, too.
Everything, it takes.
And then: promises God's blessing.
Yet never delivers, but always promises:
Health, wealth, and happiness.
But God, it seems, isn't about wealth.
So those who have it.
Have to create a god who loves it.
Who bestows wealth upon the righteous.
Or so they think:
The deserving.
The self-made.
Those who help themselves, of course.
With prayer and bible-reading.
Going to church.
Going for the best seats in the house.
Wearing their going-to-church Sunday best.
To dazzle the folks with wealth.
And to keep the folks in line.
Helpless to be anything but envious.
And always:
Amazed and,
Dazzled.
It's Mammon who laughs cruelly at the fooled.
It's Mammon who collects their souls.
And chows down on them, devouring them with glee.
Turning their wealth into nightmares of fear and hatred.
And the poor are ground down to flavor the feast.
And so it goes.
America the Great.
Mad for money.
Lusting for wealth.
We've rewarded the preachers who've dazzled us with dreams.
We've rewarded the teachers who stole our ability to think.
We've bowed down to Mammon so ofter we don't know any better.
And while the poor languish.
The rich laugh.
On the fantail of a yacht.
Or 40 thousand feet up in a private jet.
In comfort and style and pride and piety.
And the widow gives her last two pennies.
And her children starve.
And then she dies.
She was better than all of them.
But a victim of their game.
A game Jesus despised.
No wonder they did him in.
We love it.
The thought of it.
And having it someday ourselves.
Our preachers have taught us get-up-and-go.
Our teachers have taught us how to have a career.
Our preachers failed often, too often, about love.
Our teachers failed often, too often, about daring to think.
America's god is really, truly, thoroughly, crazily, Mammon.
TV, books, prayer meetings, continuing education, and seminars.
It's all about wealth.
Who has it.
Who doesn't.
Meanwhile the wealthy go about their sordid lives.
Using charity to dazzle us.
We puff up with admiration for these "kindly" people.
Who, like the rich of Jesus' time.
Make sure everyone sees them with their bags of gold.
Dropping them loudly into the treasuries of human pride.
Meanwhile the widow, gamed by the system, thinks it's the thing to do.
And maybe it is.
So she gives, too.
Her two pennies.
The last she has.
Jesus loves her for it.
But he does't love the system that betrays her in.
A system that takes.
Her last two pennies.
And her house, too.
Everything, it takes.
And then: promises God's blessing.
Yet never delivers, but always promises:
Health, wealth, and happiness.
But God, it seems, isn't about wealth.
So those who have it.
Have to create a god who loves it.
Who bestows wealth upon the righteous.
Or so they think:
The deserving.
The self-made.
Those who help themselves, of course.
With prayer and bible-reading.
Going to church.
Going for the best seats in the house.
Wearing their going-to-church Sunday best.
To dazzle the folks with wealth.
And to keep the folks in line.
Helpless to be anything but envious.
And always:
Amazed and,
Dazzled.
It's Mammon who laughs cruelly at the fooled.
It's Mammon who collects their souls.
And chows down on them, devouring them with glee.
Turning their wealth into nightmares of fear and hatred.
And the poor are ground down to flavor the feast.
And so it goes.
America the Great.
Mad for money.
Lusting for wealth.
We've rewarded the preachers who've dazzled us with dreams.
We've rewarded the teachers who stole our ability to think.
We've bowed down to Mammon so ofter we don't know any better.
And while the poor languish.
The rich laugh.
On the fantail of a yacht.
Or 40 thousand feet up in a private jet.
In comfort and style and pride and piety.
And the widow gives her last two pennies.
And her children starve.
And then she dies.
She was better than all of them.
But a victim of their game.
A game Jesus despised.
No wonder they did him in.
Friday, February 8, 2019
The Republican Mind and the Heart of God
The Republican mind was tried and tested with Nixon, and though the GOP lost that battle, and though many a Republican realized that Nixon was doomed, and finally knew that resignation was the only answer, a collective vow was likely made, a never-again pledge.
No matter what!
Now, faced with a monster in the WH, a man of limited intelligence, with an immoral character, surrounded by sleaze and influenced by his own brooding greed for power and for "love," a love never received within his family, and a love that he cannot ever give, because he doesn't have it within him, the GOP and those who've profited from this current administration, will, in their own mindless way, stand by this man, though all of them are neck-deep in filth.
It's a first class mess we have on our hands, but we've been here before, with one exception: the WH has a base of anger and bigotry throughout the nation, fueled by talk radio, the crooks at FOX, and the evangelical church for which power, at any cost, is to be courted for the sake of its theocratic dream - to rid this nation of the godless liberals, and so to "restore" morality, a "morality" in which there is no room for the LGBTQ Community, no room for workers' rights, no room for women, no room for people of color, no room for collaboration with the world, but only dominance by brute military force.
History, or as my Christian high school history teacher put it many years ago, in large scrawl on the blackboard - His Story.
Yes, I know all the linguistic and gender-issues related to that descriptor, but what my teacher meant then, and what I hear today, is this: the moral arc of the universe is always bent toward justice and truth. The love of the Creator will prevail, though beaten and battle-worn (which is why the resurrected body of the Christ was full of scars - no one, not even God, can escape the sweat and toil of seeking justice), and though raised to new life, that new life gives evidence of the costs involved, and when the Doubting Thomas saw the scars, he knew this was a God worthy of his life, and Thomas said, "My LORD and my God."
In his own way, Thomas knew, I believe, that a god without scars, a god without hurt and heartache, was no god at all, and for the times then, and surely for the times now, a scarred god is the only god worth following. Not a god of Rome or Temple, but a god of the people, a god of the creation and a god of all its creatures, great and small, a god who takes up the human cause and pays the price of love.
Sooner or later the truth will out, and justice will be done.
Never to create a perfect world, but at least a more perfect union ... on our way, with plenty of baggage, but on our way, headed toward the sunlight of faith, hope and love.
No matter what!
Now, faced with a monster in the WH, a man of limited intelligence, with an immoral character, surrounded by sleaze and influenced by his own brooding greed for power and for "love," a love never received within his family, and a love that he cannot ever give, because he doesn't have it within him, the GOP and those who've profited from this current administration, will, in their own mindless way, stand by this man, though all of them are neck-deep in filth.
It's a first class mess we have on our hands, but we've been here before, with one exception: the WH has a base of anger and bigotry throughout the nation, fueled by talk radio, the crooks at FOX, and the evangelical church for which power, at any cost, is to be courted for the sake of its theocratic dream - to rid this nation of the godless liberals, and so to "restore" morality, a "morality" in which there is no room for the LGBTQ Community, no room for workers' rights, no room for women, no room for people of color, no room for collaboration with the world, but only dominance by brute military force.
History, or as my Christian high school history teacher put it many years ago, in large scrawl on the blackboard - His Story.
Yes, I know all the linguistic and gender-issues related to that descriptor, but what my teacher meant then, and what I hear today, is this: the moral arc of the universe is always bent toward justice and truth. The love of the Creator will prevail, though beaten and battle-worn (which is why the resurrected body of the Christ was full of scars - no one, not even God, can escape the sweat and toil of seeking justice), and though raised to new life, that new life gives evidence of the costs involved, and when the Doubting Thomas saw the scars, he knew this was a God worthy of his life, and Thomas said, "My LORD and my God."
In his own way, Thomas knew, I believe, that a god without scars, a god without hurt and heartache, was no god at all, and for the times then, and surely for the times now, a scarred god is the only god worth following. Not a god of Rome or Temple, but a god of the people, a god of the creation and a god of all its creatures, great and small, a god who takes up the human cause and pays the price of love.
Sooner or later the truth will out, and justice will be done.
Never to create a perfect world, but at least a more perfect union ... on our way, with plenty of baggage, but on our way, headed toward the sunlight of faith, hope and love.
Friday, January 25, 2019
The Four Freedoms
For the health of our nation.
Voices, rich in color and tone.
Voices diverse in thought and concern.
Sure, conservative voices are a part of the mix.
And so, too, progressives of all stripes and flavors.
We're in trouble now.
Because we had a single-tone choir.
Only certain voices.
Only a narrow band of sounds.
Limited ideas.
It won't help if suddenly progressives take it all.
Though I'd love to try that for awhile.
But we need balance.
Not the kind of balance that goes nowhere.
But a balance sufficient.
That every voice can be heard.
Yet, like so many things
It has to move along.
It can't just spin in circles.
Conservatives have made it clear.
They don't like change.
Nor diversity.
They're white and don't like color.
They're afraid of gender questions.
And they don't trust women.
On anyone out of their small sense of "ordinary."
Let their voice be heard.
But, for heaven's sake.
Let's get one with the program.
America on the progressive road.
Rights, they're called.
The four rights of FDR would be just fine.
To head the list.
On top of the program.
The first is freedom of speech and expression.
The second is freedom of every person to worship god in his own way.
The third is freedom from want.
The fourth is freedom from fear.
Let the conservatives offer their own set of values.
Their vision for tomorrow.
For sure.
But as for me and my house.
I want a progressive America.
A nation that exalts in liberty for all.
And justice, too.
A nation that trusts women in all regards.
A nation not afraid of Transgendered people.
A nation that despises the symbols of fascism and slavery.
A nation determined to provide for all of its citizens:
There's much we can do.
And we need everyone's voice.
Not to shout at one another.
But to seek a harmony of sorts.
And to move the song along.
Perhaps some will slow it down a bit.
Others to keep it going.
We need the conservative voice.
But more than that, we need
The progressive voice.
To look to the future for its advice.
And the future always speaks.
It beckons us to leave behind.
And so to press on.
And in the doing,
The brave will find hope.
The world some peace.
And people, everywhere, the four freedoms.
Voices, rich in color and tone.
Voices diverse in thought and concern.
Sure, conservative voices are a part of the mix.
And so, too, progressives of all stripes and flavors.
We're in trouble now.
Because we had a single-tone choir.
Only certain voices.
Only a narrow band of sounds.
Limited ideas.
It won't help if suddenly progressives take it all.
Though I'd love to try that for awhile.
But we need balance.
Not the kind of balance that goes nowhere.
But a balance sufficient.
That every voice can be heard.
Yet, like so many things
It has to move along.
It can't just spin in circles.
Conservatives have made it clear.
They don't like change.
Nor diversity.
They're white and don't like color.
They're afraid of gender questions.
And they don't trust women.
On anyone out of their small sense of "ordinary."
Let their voice be heard.
But, for heaven's sake.
Let's get one with the program.
America on the progressive road.
Rights, they're called.
The four rights of FDR would be just fine.
To head the list.
On top of the program.
The first is freedom of speech and expression.
The second is freedom of every person to worship god in his own way.
The third is freedom from want.
The fourth is freedom from fear.
Let the conservatives offer their own set of values.
Their vision for tomorrow.
For sure.
But as for me and my house.
I want a progressive America.
A nation that exalts in liberty for all.
And justice, too.
A nation that trusts women in all regards.
A nation not afraid of Transgendered people.
A nation that despises the symbols of fascism and slavery.
A nation determined to provide for all of its citizens:
There's much we can do.
And we need everyone's voice.
Not to shout at one another.
But to seek a harmony of sorts.
And to move the song along.
Perhaps some will slow it down a bit.
Others to keep it going.
We need the conservative voice.
But more than that, we need
The progressive voice.
To look to the future for its advice.
And the future always speaks.
It beckons us to leave behind.
And so to press on.
And in the doing,
The brave will find hope.
The world some peace.
And people, everywhere, the four freedoms.
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