Saturday, July 1, 2017

Nothing more than tweeting - at the fence

One hundred and forty characters - in the hands of a character of questionable integrity - will not be able to offer any bit of creativity that will bring about the well-being of others. One hundred and forty characters used  to demean or belittle or shame, become a weapon of destruction. One hundred and forty characters allow a coward to act with bravado as he shakes with existential fear of being perceived as less than the image cast by his self-consumed ego. One hundred and forty characters is enough to: shake the world - disrupt civil society - instigate a warring madness - reveal that the king has no clothes - let everyone in on the worthlessness of those who claim great worth. And yet, the short message - the short assault - the short jab - the flashing graphic, seems to be able to either win the day or be forgotten within the next news cycle. So, one might say less is more  - little is big - weakness is strong - threats are answers - innuendos trump reality.

Now, you may think that I am commenting about the aberrant behavior of the President of the United States. Well... You have my permission to see in that whatever you like. That which is more pressing for me is the simple half-sentences - partial quotes - photo-shopped pictures - indoctrinated mindlessness that are used by many individual characters - at the fence. For me, the fence is a metaphor that includes statehouse legislators - abortion clinic protestors - pride-full bigots at Pride Parades. If you listen closely, those who protest so loudly and bath their words with religious images in an attempt to make their words sound right and good are sadly nothing more than converts to out of context literalism - ancient fears and violence. They share and carry nothing more than one hundred and forty characters that make them sound like characters caught in a cult of fear and absurdity.

But, fear and absurdity seems to be a viable manner to speak when some are attempting to move back into another age - an age of long ago - an age floating in a ark - an age divorced from the gift of scientific thought and action - an age of patriarchy and abuse - an age of swaggering segregation - an age of scapegoating and sacred violence. And - unfortunately, it only takes one hundred and forty characters (the attention span of a child in pursuit of other toys) to win the day or at least capture the imagination of folks unwilling to imagine a life beyond that which can be grasped for one's self-consumption and self-aggrandizement.

I like the sound of birds tweeting between four and five o'clock in the morning. It gets me ready for the day ahead. It is music - creative in its repetition of sound - eye opening in its faithfulness. Yet, when a tweet is only one hundred and forty characters or like a sign or picture equivalent to such a fart in time, it is nothing more than that which  needs to be dismissed for it bring no lasting life - no beauty - no new breath of life.

I need more than one hundred and forty characters - more than a sign or picture. I need to hear the larger story - hear about the depth of life behind actions chosen - hear about the struggles and the wrestling that goes into one's actions. I don't often have the time to sit and listen - but I must. There is no way to have everything in place - set in stone - designated as unloveable - beyond transformation. Yet, when we attempt to enter into life by merely bleating of one hundred and forty characters, we will be left with life that is full of stoning and violence against all those other than my own. That is not the life we have been handed - that is a cheap life often like that of a golden calf that attempts to replace the dignity and blessedness of all people.

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