I do not read much history. That will change. Last week I finished Jon Meecham's The Soul of America and within just one week of reflection his work has exposed - more than ever - how hope prevails even when the voices of hatred and bigotry and fear attempt to win the day. Meecham does that by giving us a overview of the line of presidents that goes back to the days before Lincoln. There have always been forces of evil and - to contrast Meecham's use of better angels - these devils/demons thrive on violence, bigotry, and control that is cast only in one line of history. Better Angels always stand up to the devilish powers that attempt to rule the country.
My first take away from this book was simply the wonderful and gifted people who have led our country as president. They have a job that demands the help of better angels (Meecham's use of Lincoln's term) because there is just too much power that tries to move us to less than who we are called to be as Americans. It was also jarring to see how presidents I have admired were individuals who went along with the societal diseases of their day - yet, they were able to turn and move in a creative manner even within the biases and fears of their time. They helped make us a stronger union.
As each chapter passed by, I was struck by their use of the English language. They spoke well. They wrote even better. I realize many of them used speech writers, but they also wrote some of the most powerful and dynamic pieces that will hang with us as we move on in time. It is within those glimpses of the presidents - even ones I did not like - that I realized that we are being stooged. That is, we have let someone who cannot speak or write beyond sound bites - tweets - slurs - and innuendos, take control of the office of president. This was highlighted again on Memorial Day. I hung my head when I read the day's tweet by our President. As is usually his case, he broke wind again. This time, it was in the face of our men and women in the military. He had to use the few words he tries to put together in 140 characters to talk about himself. I then saw the tweets of the past four presidents. Their 140 characters were - how shall I put it - presidential. They were to the point, clear, and, they honored our armed forces. I even turned to my wife and said that George W. (who I was not very fond of) was respectful as he mentioned a fallen soldier and included what I think was one of his paintings of the man - W. you did well.
The Soul of America lifts up the greatness of our history and as that is being done, it becomes more and more obvious that our president falls short - very short - of being a part of that honorable parade of past residents of the White House. Meacham doesn't go after Trump. He doesn't have to. Within his glimpse at the highs and lows of our presidential history, it becomes obvious that we are presently at a great loss. We have let ourselves fall for that which is created and ruled by fear - shame on us.
I have attempted to put together transcripts of the stuff our president says. It is an exercise in foolishness for all I can reconstruct is foolishness. I wonder what the Trump library will contain. I am not a good impromptu speaker or writer so I cannot be too critical. Yet, we have a person who falls way out of line with the plumb line of what is presidential and that which has a history of sending us beyond our fears. Meacham writes of hope. He offers what appears to be a bit of truthfulness about our highs and lows. It made me reflect on how low we have gone in the past few years. We are not a perfect union - but we have a history filled with those who have been bold and truthful enough to face our demons so that we will keep marching toward a union that fits who we have been deemed to be.
Today I was at a demonstration that is a part of the Poor People's March. As things were drawing to a close, I was tempted to interrupt the flow of the event in order to invite people to sing the National Anthem and invited them to kneel as we sang. No one would be forced to kneel - everyone would be invited to sing or listen. My thought was to help us all consider that we can - in many and various ways - honor our country and its wonder-filled history even if we must do it by kneeling. That would be done in the face of a narcissist who kneels for no one - even though he is cast - by some evangelical Christians - as a person who follows Jesus. Our president only kneels to himself. From that position, he is someone who does not know how to lead with better angels alongside, - he knows only how to crucify - that is how the fear filled live - and die.
TRRR
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
Thursday, May 24, 2018
I think the dog might poop in my shoe -now what?
In the Gospel according to Luke when the Romans took to the place called the skull and crucified Jesus and the two men who were labeled criminals, Jesus says, "Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing." Well, recently on a long walk I wondered about that. I did that bit of wondering from the perspective of someone who damn well could have been in that crucifying crew. I damn well could have driven in the spikes. It's not that hard to do when you think you are protecting something you have and want to keep it just as it is. Crucifying others is also easy to do when you live within the fear and anxiety of being nailed someday yourself. So, hell yes, I know what I'm doing. I know that if I take part in driving in the spikes I will continue to bring about life - at least for me and my own. I know that as long as I go along with how things are - things may get better or at least not worse - so, hammer away. Don't say I don't know what I'm doing.
I had to chuckle on the plane the other day. I was reading and trying not to cough up my left lung when I heard the rustling of fear coming from another row of seats. It was the kind of fear that seems to be popular today. It is one of those what if they... kind of fears. It is the kind of fear one has when you think your dog is waiting for a moment to crap in one of your shoes. Therefore, you check and recheck those shoes each time you go to put them on - or even just as you pass by. The dog could just do it - at any time. This is the kind of fear that is built of shit. Yes, and worse than that, shit that is not even shit - it is mind shit. But it could be shit - maybe. So in order to avoid that which could smell up the rest of the day, some folks cannot see the wonder and fullness of the day. Rather than hold onto visions of hopefulness and adventure and the ever expansive nature of creativity, they contemplate shit-fulness. On that flight last week, a guy seemed to be tying to badger another passenger into willfully considering the threat of shit - the something that could mess up the day - the something that could make a person change their pattern for life. For as sick as I was becoming on that flight, that poor guy was being pumped full of a whole hosts of contagions meant to infect him into some sort of dis-ease so that he would become a follower of fear and a devotee of anxious living.
When we fear that we might step in some shit, our lives begin to smell before any shit is even sighted. From what I could observe, the guy on the plane was - by mere observation of his dress and luggage and endless recounting of his successes - well off and in good health. If he was retired, he was doing just fine. If he was still working, he would continue to do just fine. But as far as I could hear, the fear of shit happening - in his shoe - in his life - in his own pants - had him twisted up like the conspiracist personality, Alex Jones. Jones really has nothing to fear - he knows people don't like to step in shit - so he throw stories of shit everywhere with the expectation that they are willing to squish through his shit in order to avoid the fear-filled droppings he throws around airwaves. And, in the meantime, you can fight the fear with these wonderful shit-stopping, shit-deflecting dietary supplements - edible shit.
So, sorry for all the shit talk. But fear - when we are afraid of what could be - when things are not just as we want them or have them - brings about an itch to bitch. And then, worse, an itch to do anything to keep the world as we have had it - or wished it would have been - or how it could have been if only..... Usually, our fears demand sacrifice - the sacrifice of others. Our fears and anxieties trick us into thinking we are about to lose something if we don't gain control of the world around us. So out comes the hammer and spikes. Who can we - who must we - hang out to dry in order to save the day as we want it and think we deserve it. We all have our lists. It is like the banner hanging on the cross that said something like 'The King of the Jews' - a fearful and lame project manufactured by good religious and civic leaders - to keep up appearances and biases and divisions.
Who are you thinking about hammering? Who do you so fear you think you must deny them life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness because you are sold on the notion that they do not deserve that life, or, you don't see their lives unfolding as yours has done or failed to do? Fear has a way of making the world smell like shit. Oh, it really doesn't - okay maybe sometimes it does. When I think of that line of forgiveness from the cross, I imagine Jesus spreading that out over everyone - those who hammered - those who yelled - those who cried - those who taunted - those who stood in silence - those who ran away. I think that's all of us. So afraid to love without condition and welcome without exclusion and intercede without permission, we think nailing others to a cross will make us better - safer - holier. But, we don't know what we are doing - we have lost our capacity to be truly human - to let loose the Spirit of God's creativity that can inspire us to hang with those who we usually like to hammer. Fear. It makes us forget in whose image we all are created and therefore we can only imagine the threat at hand - like dog shit that could be in my shoe - but may never be.
TRRR
I had to chuckle on the plane the other day. I was reading and trying not to cough up my left lung when I heard the rustling of fear coming from another row of seats. It was the kind of fear that seems to be popular today. It is one of those what if they... kind of fears. It is the kind of fear one has when you think your dog is waiting for a moment to crap in one of your shoes. Therefore, you check and recheck those shoes each time you go to put them on - or even just as you pass by. The dog could just do it - at any time. This is the kind of fear that is built of shit. Yes, and worse than that, shit that is not even shit - it is mind shit. But it could be shit - maybe. So in order to avoid that which could smell up the rest of the day, some folks cannot see the wonder and fullness of the day. Rather than hold onto visions of hopefulness and adventure and the ever expansive nature of creativity, they contemplate shit-fulness. On that flight last week, a guy seemed to be tying to badger another passenger into willfully considering the threat of shit - the something that could mess up the day - the something that could make a person change their pattern for life. For as sick as I was becoming on that flight, that poor guy was being pumped full of a whole hosts of contagions meant to infect him into some sort of dis-ease so that he would become a follower of fear and a devotee of anxious living.
When we fear that we might step in some shit, our lives begin to smell before any shit is even sighted. From what I could observe, the guy on the plane was - by mere observation of his dress and luggage and endless recounting of his successes - well off and in good health. If he was retired, he was doing just fine. If he was still working, he would continue to do just fine. But as far as I could hear, the fear of shit happening - in his shoe - in his life - in his own pants - had him twisted up like the conspiracist personality, Alex Jones. Jones really has nothing to fear - he knows people don't like to step in shit - so he throw stories of shit everywhere with the expectation that they are willing to squish through his shit in order to avoid the fear-filled droppings he throws around airwaves. And, in the meantime, you can fight the fear with these wonderful shit-stopping, shit-deflecting dietary supplements - edible shit.
So, sorry for all the shit talk. But fear - when we are afraid of what could be - when things are not just as we want them or have them - brings about an itch to bitch. And then, worse, an itch to do anything to keep the world as we have had it - or wished it would have been - or how it could have been if only..... Usually, our fears demand sacrifice - the sacrifice of others. Our fears and anxieties trick us into thinking we are about to lose something if we don't gain control of the world around us. So out comes the hammer and spikes. Who can we - who must we - hang out to dry in order to save the day as we want it and think we deserve it. We all have our lists. It is like the banner hanging on the cross that said something like 'The King of the Jews' - a fearful and lame project manufactured by good religious and civic leaders - to keep up appearances and biases and divisions.
Who are you thinking about hammering? Who do you so fear you think you must deny them life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness because you are sold on the notion that they do not deserve that life, or, you don't see their lives unfolding as yours has done or failed to do? Fear has a way of making the world smell like shit. Oh, it really doesn't - okay maybe sometimes it does. When I think of that line of forgiveness from the cross, I imagine Jesus spreading that out over everyone - those who hammered - those who yelled - those who cried - those who taunted - those who stood in silence - those who ran away. I think that's all of us. So afraid to love without condition and welcome without exclusion and intercede without permission, we think nailing others to a cross will make us better - safer - holier. But, we don't know what we are doing - we have lost our capacity to be truly human - to let loose the Spirit of God's creativity that can inspire us to hang with those who we usually like to hammer. Fear. It makes us forget in whose image we all are created and therefore we can only imagine the threat at hand - like dog shit that could be in my shoe - but may never be.
TRRR
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