God and Facebook

So the other day I decided to chime in on a FB post. I know, probably a bad idea, maybe a very bad idea. We almost all have had the experience of getting "hooked" by a snarky comment or loaded meme. Either we enter into an actual exchange, which often leads nowhere, or we end up having a never-ending conversation in our head. We continue needlessly occupying our mind space and draining our vital energy. Nevertheless, I have since that time removed FB from my phone. Now I only check occasionally, and try to make it a point to not let precious time slip away indefinitely, nor to enter into every "teachable moment" that my ever fixing, helping, wanting-to-illuminate-inner-self desires to share.

This particular post was actually a share of a pro-gay beer add. The person who posted it and her husband often post things which in some manner or another would be considered "Christian bashing", yet they both (I am sure) consider themselves to be thoughtful, caring, socially aware, and willing-to-help kind of people. The husband actually started a company called "Inner city Peace" and although I am not familiar with all the ins and outs of what they do, I do know in their mission is the idea of helping African Americans, presumably in the inner cities. Despite this call

and action to "Peace", I believe they are actually completely blind to the fact that they often spread violence in their energy and words towards those with whom they disagree, namely Christians.

I decided to chime in, primarily because often I have found their posts are so misguided and confused about what being a Christian actually means. They seem to hold some kind of false idea that the moment one sees ultimate truth and saving Grace in Jesus Christ and accepts and embraces that He indeed is the Savior of the world, that somehow they magically become total masters of every aspect of their fallen nature. Fear not though, lest these wretched Christians fall short — they shall indeed be mocked and scorned by the ever more peaceful, intelligent and

enlightened secularists, ready to judge with an iron rod!! Yes the irony is palpable....and a little painful (Forgive them Father, for they know not . . .) I was actually tempted by one of the husband’s posts to begin calling him Saul.

Anyway, the pro gay beer add was accompanied by the very bold post she had written that said: "homosexuality is NOT a sin, Love is love". So I thought I would chime in with a very basic concept of sin. Mainly, the idea is that sin is anything that misses the mark of perfection (God's) of which we All fall short, so that basically every human being is in fact a sinner. The conversation proceeded on and she informed me that she did not believe any of that (which I knew). But my point was—for those that do believe those things—there really is no distinction. I also went on to illuminate that if others are pointing at someone else for their sinful behaviors that they in fact would be walking in their own sin, as we are called to love our neighbors and not judge our neighbors. “None is righteous, no, not one.” (Rom. 3:10)

Then the truth really came out, What she is really upset about is that people actually think there is such a thing as sin (which she believes does not even exist ), and that because they have this belief system they say things like “homosexuality is an abomination", which is in and of itself offensive, hurtful etc.

So we get to the crux of the matter. I let her know firstly that I had been perplexed by her bold statement, because generally the word sin is used to describe things and actions within the context of an objective reality. I will admit, that was not 100% honest, but I was trying to illuminate a broader picture not only of sin itself, but as to how this term is actually used. If you do not even believe that sin exists, and there is in fact no such thing as perfection—ultimate and only good—and take the notion that all of reality is really a subjective interpretation, then to make a bold statement about what is sin and is not might be better left unsaid. I did let her know that I agree, even within the Christian community this is a divided issue and there is a broad spectrum of views and approaches on the subject.

I personally find it a bit amusing that some straight people (such as herself) have such convicted ideas on this issue. I had recently listened to a podcast between two gay men, both Christians who had very different approaches and understandings on this issue. I thought to myself during this exchange with her: does she realize that there actually are gay people that would categorize homosexuality as a sin, and consider it an abomination? Has she ever examined for herself what that might mean, and why it could be categorized in such a way?

And this really brings me to one of the areas that really is of interest. Is there actually an objective fabric to reality, or is it merely subjective. Is there an intelligent being which creates the very structure of reality and that indeed within this structure there is a moral component written into it's very fabric. The Christian says: yes. It seems that people that reject this either in some measure, or completely, do so mainly from a similar line of thinking as this person above with whom I shared my FB exchange. Somehow, some of these rules and ideas are hurtful and cause harm. Somehow man has come up with these ideas and juxtapositioned them onto society and all they do is make life difficult and hurt people.

I fear this approach is all upside down. When understood in proper context the things that are written were not somehow invented and juxtaposed but rather understood or received through revelation. The fabric of reality has been understood and attempts are then made to explain that fabric. One can acknowledge its truth or deny it, but the repercussions of denying that truth will be felt. In other words you might want to honor your emotional reaction to the law, instead of the law itself, but you will reap the repercussions of what that means. “God so loved the world that he gave his Only Son” (John 3:16), so that he could bear the burden of our sinful nature, that we might be born in him. No other sacrifice is necessary, free grace. 

This is a reciprocal relationship. We honor God's commands in a reciprocal relationship: as we honor him, we walk upheld by the very fabric and Intelligence of Being. It may require sacrifice. Jesus sacrificed his being, his physical body and we too are called to take up our cross. We have free will to do so, yet when we do, his burden is easy and his yoke is light. When we deny this unseen world and work against the laws that are written, there will be natural consequences. Not out of a punishing God, but rather by the very nature of his goodness, calling us to his fold. As human beings, the great commandment is to love the Lord God with all our heart, soul, and mind and love our neighbors as ourselves. We cannot be in harmony and love our own being if we are in rejection of the very fabric of our existence (made in his image).

In the Eastern Vedic tradition the idea of sacred mantra or sound is that these sounds were imparted to the sages. We see in the Bible revelations. Often these are people in high states of meditation or prayer, who receive information of Truth, ultimate Truth. This is not man imposing ideas on reality, but rather reality revealing itself to man, and man in turn trying to preserve and impart this wisdom through the ages.

One can discuss and debate about what is sin and what is not: If one decides something is a sin, then how does one reconcile that? These are all good questions and discussions, and like most things in life, one must decide where priorities lie. One of the most beautiful things in this podcast with the two gay Christian men, was that although they had taken very different stances on what to do in regards to homosexuality and their work in the church (they were both active in the church, one a pastor) the way they spoke to each other and the words they used were beautiful and uplifting. Over and over I heard: "I honor you", " I respect you”, “we have so much in common”, but....

This is what being a Christian is about, thinking about the objective nature of reality, trying to understand what that means, societally and in our individual lives. We all bear our crosses. We have a free choice to take up that cross, even Christ himself chose to take up the very literal cross of his Father's will. (“My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will” (Matt. 26:39).

This cross that reaches upward toward that which is good, and perfect, runs through us in vertical relationship with our Father. We are answering His call in as much as we can see and are able to understand from where we are in this very moment. Even in all our brokenness and sin, he waits with open arms and calls us up to Him. Horizontally, our cross reminds us we are reaching out to the world in love and empathy. We are the body of Christ carrying our crosses.

The Blessing and Gift of Jonathan

This Christmas season has come and gone. We rang in the new year with family and friends. We did most of our usual traditions. We went to Florida to see Aunt Nelly. Mom was there too. We saw my brother Ian and his wife Gabby, my Dad and Donna, and Nelly’s beau Dwight. We stopped in Charleston on our way to see Calvin’s oldest brother Wallace and his family. We went to the botanical gardens and out to a nice dinner.

This year was so very different. 

If I am to be honest Christmas is not one of my favorite times of the year. In fact, I usually sense a bit of dread arriving just after Thanksgiving and a sense of relief the day after Christmas. I know in my heart it is the celebration of light coming into darkness — the Savior of the world revealing the truth of his Father to the world. The Truth, the Way, the Life incarnate here among us, then in the flesh and now in the spirit. And yet ... and yet, what I feel every year is a melancholic spirit. I feel the urgency and frantic energy in the air as people focus on all the material aspects of making the important day come to fruition. Somehow in the hustle bustle of activity, I feel precisely the opposite of what we are all reminding ourselves of and celebrating — I feel the absence of spirit and peace. I have come to know this place well, and I accept each year that these sentiments will arrive. I greet them with a familiarity now, and know that they will pass and I will look back lovingly on the events we do each year that have become our family traditions. I know when we attend the Christmas Eve service that the sense of peace and spirit fills my being. I am with my love celebrating Love. My darlings are sleeping and will awake to their gifts all wrapped and ready for the tree, or table as it were, to avoid Bijou’s pee (the never housebroken dog)!

This year was so very terribly and awfully different. 

The day before our departure from Richmond Calvin came home from work and told me the news — Jonathan has been hit by a car, he is dead. Time stood still for just an instant and then my heart shattered. I dropped my head in my hands and they became wet with tears. The grief was immediate and the impact so felt. A few months prior I lost my grandfather. He was an old man with a full life. He died at 97 years old, he had a successful career, children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. He climbed mountains, ran marathons and travelled the world. He enjoyed good food and fine clothes. One might say “a life well lived.” I don’t mean to imply that there was no grief or feeling of loss when I heard the news of my grandfather. Certainly there were moments. Those moments, however, were subtle and gentle. Jonathan's death felt so violent. It seems there is something satisfying about a potential that has been fulfilled. When that is the case the spirit more readily lets go. There was nothing left undone that needed to be said, shared or done. The body and mind of my grandfather took time, years and years to decay, dying little by little to ultimate death. It’s as if there are many little good byes that happen during that time and those years to parts of the man that was, that is no more. It is natural, in order and in good time, time to go.

Not so with Johnathan. He was a young man, 38 years old. I remember feeling drawn to Jonathan before I ever met him. I knew Calvin had this younger brother that I did not know. So I pressed upon him to try to meet him. He lived about 45 or so minutes away, but happened to be on the way to where I drove to Greensboro occasionally for my voice lessons. So we planned a visit on the way home one week. He did not answer his phone, and although the door was open, as he always left his apartments, he was not there. So we left a note — I wanted him to know we tried, that we both wanted to see him and I wanted to meet him. I eventually met Jonathan a few months later at his older brother Wallace’s school graduation. 

I can’t quite say why but I had a “love at first sight” reaction to Jonathan. Not in the romantic sense, but in a heart sense, where your whole being just feels connected to this other individual. He was so beautiful and there was something so vulnerable and perceptive about him. I got to know him better over the years and was often so impressed by his deep metaphysical insights and understandings. But Jonathan was also deeply troubled, and as the years moved forward so did his issues. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and suffered neuroses that caused odd behaviors. He did not take care of his hygiene, his thoughts and communications where not always coherent or logically connected, and he certainly held anger and resentments, sometimes towards those who loved him most. He did have desires — he wanted a wife, he wanted a career and in his way he tried to manifest those things — but because of his mental handicap, to no avail. He felt he was a prisoner to his own condition, yet refused true help, convinced he could help himself despite years of evidence to the contrary. 

When we went to clean out Jonathan's apartment after the funeral there were many empty soda bottles on the floor and plastic grocery bags everywhere. There was a stack of ramen noodle packages two feet high on the stove. Seems that ramen and soda where the staples of his diet. He had not even one proper change of clothes (he wore the same outfit over and over). His blankets were on his little day couch where we pictured him sleeping, nights alone, in dirty clothes amongst the trash on the floor. Such a sad picture. Jonathan did not manifest his potential, he often was not kind to those who tried to care for him, lashing out from his place of deep pain.

That moment I heard the news of his death and felt my heart shatter, I had a vision. It was energetically that of a shattered mirror, shards of light, and rays of black. It is in some ways how I saw Jonathan’s spirit — shattered like a broken mirror, trying to organize the pieces and somehow put them back in order, but the burden was too heavy, the puzzle too complex. 

I have thought a lot about Jonathan’s passing, and one aspect that is so striking and powerful to me is his impact on so many in his family and immediate surroundings. Despite Jonathan's lack of manifestation, or even “good behavior”, we are pained and grieved by his loss. We miss him and have a real sense of the loss of a beautiful being that was among us and is no more. What an amazing and powerful testament this is to the absolute value and worth of this individual Jonathan who touched and affected our lives in some profound way. So profound in fact we can not quite wrap our logical minds around. I think in pondering these things this is a huge gift and blessing that Jonathan has given us and reminds us of. The inherent and undeniable value and impact of another being. It did not matter what Johnathan did or did not accomplish, even his actions or inactions become secondary to the very phenomena of Jonathan. He did not have in fact to do or be or become anything. He was and is, and that is enough. We love him because he is — uniquely Jonathan made in God’s image. Worthy of honor, respect and love, despite his worldly challenges, something so perfect, and so so dearly missed. ("Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father" (Matt. 5: 48)

Whispers from a Thief

For several months now I have wanted to sit and put fingers to keyboard. Alas, modern life in 2019 with two children and busy schedules has virtually swallowed fall, and here we are just a few weeks from Christmas. Bellies are filled with Thanksgiving feasts now, and the to-do lists are never ending. The tasks are always too many for the short hours in each day that passes so quickly.

I have thought often of this mysterious man on the cross and the message he sends. It is a mysterious whisper spoken to me with the utmost beautiful message. One well worth the time to ponder and explore. The thing that I love so much about this story is the absolute hope and redemptive quality that it illustrates. It does so in such a concise and definitive manner. It is as if it lays heady arguments to rest in one exhalation and breathes life and hope into all of reality.

We may discuss and discourse till we are blue in the face, the whys and wherefore of what is moral, what are ethics, what is sin and why. Sometimes these conversations may be helpful in navigating a certain understanding of an objective reality too large to fully comprehend, but they always seem to lack a certain something one is searching to fill. There seems to be a void that remains, and the conversations may be circular or even combative. But do they ever really accomplish a longing that we seek? It is like trying to organize an overly full closet — as soon as another washcloth is pulled out to use, the refolding begins...we do and we do, we talk and we talk. The vanity is palpable. 

The thief however brings us something fresh. I believe he brings us through Christ that which we truly seek. Who is this blessed being next to Christ on the cross? We are left to our imaginations....was he a petty apple thief? Perhaps, although probably unlikely since we find him on the cross condemned to death. One might assume with a certain amount of certainty that his trespasses were a bit stronger. If they are not though, there is still an interesting message...perhaps about the harshness of the world? Perhaps a shared experience by this lowly thief and the great high Savior of mankind, strategically placed side by side.....kind of funny to think about.

What if he is the worst kind of criminal? What if fate gave this poor man what would seem a miserable lot in life? Maybe he was a fatherless child who from a young age stole to help his mother and siblings to survive? What if he was the very darkest character one could imagine ... a life of poverty, living in a constant state of fight and flight. Maybe drinking at a tavern to gain fearlessness, running off without paying his bill, finding a widow’s home to use her to satisfy his carnal urges, only to dispose of her afterward and take the cash and jewels. He would then run to the next town unknown, use up his spoils and then plot his next conquest.

It might be that when he was caught and condemned to his fate, he actually sighed a sigh of relief, knowing full well he was deserving of the worst kind of punishment and being finally able to let go of this constant fight for life. Was it a state of exhaustion and a giving up of himself that allowed him to view Christ with such clarity, that others in his midst could not?

Then Christ's most beautiful and powerful message, to the thief and to us all. "Truly I say to you today you will see me in Paradise” (Luke 23:43). Wow, how breathtaking and exhilarating. How could he be forgiven so fully and completely? It seems to me that alone could be a testament to Christ's nature, in some ways so unlike ours. No time needed to heal, to process the wrong doings, weighing his fate with circumstance, finding justifications ... no ‘yes I forgive you now, and you will have one year hereafter to prove that you have indeed changed your horrid ways’. No, this is not what is said, but rather: you have seen the Truth in an instant Mr. Thief and that is enough for eternal Paradise'.

The message I hear through this interchange is, no matter before dear child, no matter after dear child; right here, right now, I am available to ALL. Yes, All are indeed invited to the table to partake, there is no argument here, it is already a done deal. We may not even know the extent of our own before. We may well be blind by our own deceptions and the narrative we tell ourselves. The one we are able to handle at this moment. We certainly do not know the extent of our afters, but we can know without a doubt here and now what is available. This is Grace, saving grace, undeserved and unearned yet fully available.

Life in 3-D

So the other day in Paris I was walking in the Park Montsouris. I was there for my grandfather's funeral. It was a busy time. The funeral service was beautiful. The priest had a luminosity about him and spoke a message that all could hear and understand. It was full of depth and truth for the practicing believer, yet open and accessible for the person who may never have embraced religion or for that matter a spiritual practice. I loved him for his message and the potential truth he brought forth. No politics, no bias, no putting others down to make his own convictions seem more worthy. Just truth and love, and the gospel ideas illuminated for all to witness and absorb. I felt grateful walking through the park, it was a beautiful day. I had the sense of seeing the trees and their shimmering leaves with a fullness and satisfaction. The shimmer of God himself singing to me through his creation.

Then the thought occurred to me about the shift in my being in those moments after prayer and meditation. It is as though life which presents itself much of the time in 2-D, suddenly shifts to 3- D. There is a wholeness to reality. You can see it with your eyes, feel it with your body and immerse in it in the completeness of Being. Much of the time we are circling in a tornado of thoughts and ideas. We are driven by doing and accomplishing. We rush from one task to the next feeling so powerful. The more we check of our to-do's the better. Then when we have no more steam, we collapse. Our power is burned out till rest and morning coffee. Other times we are immersed in our emotions feeling the sorrow of things lost, or broken. The joy of a new acquisition or a good meal, maybe a satisfying conversation. We either want the emotion to be gone, or be prolonged. We know in our heart of hearts that that is illusion—the emotion will collapse and make way for the next desire, emotion or activity at hand.

What is that funny thing that takes place after meditation and prayer, a spiritual ritual or practice? It seems there is a cohesion of sorts, the activity is calmed and the emotions are still. "Be still and know that I am God". And there you are....no doing or feeling. Just being. Basked in Him, all is whole, all is Perfect "Be ye therefore perfect even as the Father". Life in 2-D has shifted to life in 3-D. Could it be that this is actually where life is meant to be lived? Could this be the true meaning of "Loving the Lord your God with all your heart, soul and mind"....Is this the one pointedness that Yoga aims to guide us toward? I think so.

What is it about 3's? Obviously an important number in understanding our Father, through his son and the Holy Spirit, three in ONE. They say the physical body likes things in threes, and as a therapist once said, "the body does not lie". This whole thought process brought me to another place. We are mind, body and spirit. Also three in one. Why then do people so readily dismiss the spirit aspect of the equation? It is a mystery, really, and a rather strange phenomenon. Here is the key which unlocks the mystery of being, the last clue to experience life in 3-D, and yet it takes the backseat, or no seat, when perhaps it is actually meant to be the driver. 

We take pains for the physical body. We are told it needs nourishment to survive, and so we take from creation and give to our bodies. The body likes activity, so we do activity, sport, dance. The world rejoices in a beautifully sculpted body bearing the fruits of many moons of training. We ooh and ahh at a dancer’s form and physique or the strength of a marathoner. We recognize the importance of the care that was put in, and admire those who have done so diligently and well. Great minds like to think, to discover, to invent and create. We admire those who have high degrees and big accomplishments. We encourage education, thoughtful thinking and reasoning. And yet....so many who care deeply about the former two, seem to let the third aspect of our being go by the wayside, or have no care whatsoever. My father once told me he learned in college about the metaphysical aspects of our being, that there is an inherent desire in human beings for the metaphysical—hence the creation of religion, spiritual practices, etc. That is all well and good. One can come to an intellectual understanding that man has a metaphysical desire, and therefore creations and activities which help to satisfy that desire. Why then does the logic follow in this particular realm of our being that because we understand, we can now dismiss as irrelevant and unimportant?

We understand that man needs nourishment, so we nourish, we understand that the mind needs stimulation so we stimulate. And yet here we are once —we have a metaphysical need, we understand, so we ignore and discard. Strange isn't it? It seems people are ready to dismiss spirit so easily, maybe for a logical incoherence, perhaps, an aspect of an idea that isn't immediately pleasant or doesn't gel with one's feelings. Many people dismiss spirit because as a child it seemed appealing but as an adult no longer. As though education and life experience has made them too wise for the infinite wisdom that passes all understanding. We are asked to become like children, not to stay as a child, but rather become like children. What does this mean? “When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways” (1. Cor. 13: 11). 

Maybe there is something in adulthood and becoming wise to the world that risks stopping the evolution of a person's spirit, and the call is to surmount these pitfalls in order to once again become like children. We are called to be in the world but not of the world—a call not to stop because of intellectual pride or childish emotions that one clings to, but a call to die to what was before in order to be reborn into infinite intelligence that goes beyond logic, beyond emotion. That which illumines something more, something unexplainable and incomprehensible, but real and tangible nonetheless. We are called not to remain stagnant in emotion or to become brittle in cold hard logic but rather fuse these 2-D's of life into a harmonious whole 3-d experience? ft5ygMaybe, just maybe life in 3-D, unity with the three in one is what it is actually all about.

The Diversity Division

So the other morning Calvin and I were talking over coffee. He began to tell me about a colleague of his who has a daughter getting ready to head off to college. Calvin's colleague is a white woman who is married to a black man, so their daughter is biracial but identifies as African American. This woman proceeded to tell Calvin that her daughter had decided to go into an all black dormitory. Apparently this is now a fairly common thing on campuses. As well as all black cafes or other "safe spaces".

Calvin mentioned how strange this seems in 2020. I had to admit, I agreed and actually thought it is a bit sad. After all the civil rights fights—the deaths and martyrs for the cause of eliminating segregation and esteeming equality—here we are back to segregation, albeit by choice. I wonder what MLK would think? I wonder what Jesus would think... Paul says in Christ there is no male or female, no Gentile or Jew. All are one in Christ Jesus.

The other day at church the sermon started out like this: "I am a white, female, cisgendered, heterosexual, educated, upper white class person..." Wow, I thought to myself, that certainly is a lot of labels!! She went on to preach on her white privilege soapbox, and of the necessity and responsibility of those like her to help those less fortunate. While no one would argue that those with more fortune should incline themselves as Christians to help others with less, I think the key word here is Christians.

Paul says in Christ there is no male or female, no Gentile or Jew. All are one in Christ Jesus. Why then so many separating labels? Christ's own message seems to be doing just the opposite. Tearing down labels in order to unify. I thought to myself, white people are broken too, some are victims of sexual abuse, stuck in addiction, from broken homes, abused—the list goes on.

All beings suffer the human condition, white or not. All human beings are sinners, yet in Him our guilt is lifted, he has died for our sins that we may be born in Him. So why are we being told to feel guilty and obliged because of the color of our skin, stature of our birth, or other above-named details? 

It all just seems so counterintuitive and counter Christian. It also seems to me almost proud, as if somehow by acknowledging some categorical privilege I may have been born into, I can alleviate my natural sense of guilt and become for those of lesser social stature (in any given category) their surrogate savior on earth—all the while convincing myself of some sort of moral superiority because I acknowledge my privilege and take personal responsibility.

It seems to me these false notions are the very thing we are called to die to. A sense of our own righteousness, or power even to do things of our own accord. Should we not meet another, any other as our equal brother or sister in Christ Jesus? Might any one of these not-so-pristine categories have something of equal or greater value to offer than we may have to offer them?

What if we approached the other, any other, not with a sense of alleviating guilt and doing our moral duty, but rather with love from one human being to another. Would that not be more gratifying, satisfying and pure for all involved rather that approaching the other with a man made preordained duty?

I am not convinced that forced diversity creates unity. It seems by the choice of the young college-student-to-be, that perhaps it does the very opposite. The more labels, the more separation. And then we look to be with those whose labels match ours. Christ's message is not of diversity but rather of our unity in Him—a true equality I believe creates equanimity. I honor you because you are a child of God made in his image, I see us as one in him, no better no worse, just one in him. Period, the end.

The Eternally Persecuted Jew

Recently another horrible anti-Semitic act was perpetrated, and 11 innocent people seeking after God had their lives cut short. The hatred in the human heart is real, and even the most self-convinced charitable ones are guilty. We all need a savior, whether we know it or not, and sometimes even those who believe they are following their savior are woefully blind and lost. There is a great beauty and perfection in life. It’s a fountain and reservoir of mystery, and also a sad tragedy. The record of humanity has a scratch and sounds on a dissonant repeat that is offensive to the ear and painful to the soul.

A few months back a priest — a rector no less and a Dr. — were in a room together with a group of parishioners. No this is not the start of a joke, or is it? There was to be an informative discussion on some topic or another. The details of that topic have evaded me since, but the shock and dissonance of what to many in the room may have seemed a casual joke, still rings in my ears and unsettles my being. Somehow the conversation turned to the Middle East and in this context the notion of certain Jewish people whose sacred belief forbids them from building on certain land deemed Holy. “Ha Ha Ha!”, they laughed. “If they actually tried to build they would all fall dead, according to their own beliefs. Ha Ha Ha.” The room also joined in a perfunctory chuckle. But not me. I had a knot in my stomach, and everything within my being said something feels wrong here — very, very wrong. 

Should we really be laughing at the expense of both mocking a belief system (that clearly this priest understood as childish superstition) and people dying? And not just any people, the Jewish people. Have the atrocities committed against this particular group not made us the least bit sensitive to their plight? Does no one sense a cognizant dissonance here grating on their ears like that damn broken record that will not stop skipping?

I did not speak up and say something. I felt shocked and appalled. When I feel this way I shut down. The words do not come. I go home and machinate the complex of mixed emotions cursing through my blood. I talk to my "Dear and kind loving husband”* and eventually at three in the morning when I cannot sleep they pour on paper. I had thought sooner about writing a FB post . . . but I hesitated, not wanting to rock the boat, create more tension and discord. This same priest has mocked other people with different faith beliefs — those with whom he does not align — and considers his understandings oh so much better, smarter, more evolved. I wonder if these same Jewish people disposed of this sacred belief held for so long. Someday in the future decided to build on this Holy Land, perhaps materialism wins out and the illusion of the sacred mists into the clouds passing by and is no more. What if perchance terrible accidents began to happen, would he believe then? Would he honor those Jewish people then? He is so comfortable to get up in the pulpit and boast about how open and loving he is, how much he enjoyed a Seder dinner, and how certain lines in the Bible are not excuses for Jewish persecution, and yet . . . . Blindness is real and sometimes so easily seen.

The love of Jesus is not: I love and honor you as long as you agree with me, otherwise I am free to mock and scorn you. No, the love of Jesus says: I love you. That is all. Love your neighbor. That is all. Love me and love your neighbor. So simple and yet . . . . Will we ever cease to persecute the Jew who is love incarnate? “For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things . . . that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death” (Philippians 3:8,10).

Repent of that which does not allow you to love me more fully, he begs us, but I love you still. Seek me and you will find me. So merciful and so gentle. Can we find gentleness when dealing with that with which we disagree? Or are we in bondage to evil in all its forms? Hatred masked in so many cloaks of amor. This force has not the power to protect us, nor uplift. There are choices to be made and actions to follow. 

May the clarity of perfect truth shine a light to our mirrors and help us see, may the world know your peace. May the music of the heavens sing through humanity, and uplift us to your perfect Love. Amen.  

*An honest sentiment, but also a quote from the poem by Anne Bradstreet.

The Dream Vision

I had a dream the other night. I was in the car and Calvin was there. My consciousness was floating above my head in a unified field of white-yellow shimmering light. The thought in the dream that presented itself was the idea that our calling is to come to peace with seemingly opposite ideas so that they may be unified and not in conflict.

I remember once my mom in speaking about the Bible mentioned how one could find everything in there and its opposite. I am not so sure about everything — some things are pretty clear-cut, but she made a good point. There are many opposites or seemingly contrary ideas, which of course makes it important to examine context and not simply pull a verse out and call it randomly ultimate truth because it aligns with our personal cause. My friend’s mother once spoke about the Bible being the living bible. I like this thought and idea. I have had the experience where a word or a phrase literally comes to life. I know what she means. I do think there is a place and a mystery for something that resonates with our own personal story that may not do so with our neighbor in that moment in time.

All that to say, it is not difficult to thoughtfully consider perhaps Jesus' words to Martha — “You are anxious and troubled about many things” (Luke 10:41) — and understand that busy Martha is missing the subtleties in life, the sweet message and presence of Christ, because she is too busy doing, to notice. Too preoccupied, too caught up. For the naturally slothful person Christ might admonish them on the contrary to get up and do, go help their neighbor — “Go to the ant, O sluggard; consider her ways and be wise. Without having any chief, officer, or ruler, she prepares her bread in summer and gathers her food in harvest” (Proverbs 6:6-8). So opposing ideas can both be right and good and grounded in truth. This idea seems to hold a key that gets easily misplaced when trying to unlock the mysteries of those others, or ideas that somehow bother us, or we just can't quite accept as right.

I had an observation the other day while scrolling through Facebook. I pretty much know what to expect from certain people, their political perspectives, or areas of grievance. The idea that came to mind was how people tend to project into the world and feel passionate (and often very righteous) about certain subjects. They want to change these certain aspects of the world. It seemed the more I examined this, the more it seemed to make sense that the very thing they are angry about in the world and trying to change, seems to tie into an aspect of their own being that perhaps is not acting in accordance with a certain moral law, or at peace within, and so the MO is to fix it — not within their own being, but rather by fighting the world.

A priest the other day preached on the passage where Jesus referred to the Syrophoenecian woman as a dog (“It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs” — Mark 7:27). She was in an uproar about this. She even said something to the effect of perhaps Jesus meriting a proverbial slap from the Holy Spirit!! To say that I was shocked was an understatement. Her understanding is: here is a poor woman, and this is how Christ treats her. But the very fact that he uses the words he uses are the exact tool from which she can then show her perfect humility. She does not buck in self-righteousness, but rather persists and in a certain way agrees with Jesus' description. He follows by recognizing the state of her heart and heals her. This priest was offended. She was not OK  with this — and yet there is such a powerful and beautiful way to understand this passage. Being caught up in her modern day human understanding of right and wrong, there was no way that reference to a woman as a dog was OK — ever. And yet, if we look at the God-incarnate, sinless God-man and worship he who is the savior of the world, don't we all fall short of that kind of glory? If he is our Master it seems that men, women and children are all in some respect dogs in comparison to the One who is sinless. Masters in fact love their dogs but can recognize a proper order and relationship.

Apparently there is an aspect in Eastern religions where young devotees are given riddles to sit with. They are riddles that bother the mind in the sense that they are paradoxical, and yet there is a place with the right amount of work in wrestling with these riddles where the mind releases the struggle and is enabled to accept the paradox. Or from a Christian perspective, perhaps the Holy Spirit moves the spiritual sludge into clean flowing water, the crooked is made straight. It seems there are two ways to approach those things that prick us, make our stomachs tighten, and our minds begin to whirl. One is to lash out at the world and try to move a mountain and the other maybe to go deep inside and gaze into a reflection that is not the one we want to see — to call on a Savior to illumine the way out, and wait for the Holy Spirit to move the molehill and continue in the dance of life.

Weather to Believe

I felt encouraged the other day while listening to NPR. The subject at hand was "Climate Change". If ever there were two words to stir up a heated debate with religious proportions, these would be the two. It seems there are two schools of thought when it comes to this "oh so controversial" issue. One is that man has been careless and reckless and created destructive outcomes for the earth and planet, and we darn well better do something about it, or Armageddon is about to become real. “The earth lies defiled under its inhabitants; for they have transgressed the laws, violated the statutes, broken the everlasting covenant” (Isaiah 24:5). The other seems to be that the earth has always gone through cyclical changes over vast amounts of time, and something greater than ourselves is ultimately perfectly in charge and in control and we need not worry. So maybe those are the extreme versions, but that is my basic understanding. 

I don't always agree with my mother-in-law, but one time she said: "Everybody thinks their version of right is the right version of right". For some reason this really stuck with me, and the more I thought about it, the more I agreed. To take it a step further though, I don't think people always act in a way that even corresponds with their own version of right. Sometimes one may actually not be sure which right is most right and act in a way that is comfortable and could be right, but maybe is not. 

I do believe in grey. I think there is room for gray in climate change too. Maybe we have not been good stewards of the earth. “Let them have dominion over all the earth” (Gen. 1:26). Due to sin in the form of greed and gluttony. Maybe Mother Earth is desperately calling out to us and saying “pay attention”. Maybe God has a plan for the planet that no man, woman, or child can change despite the most heartfelt efforts. 

I was encouraged though listening to this podcast because the gentleman who was speaking was someone who works for clean energy. He in fact is a proponent of "Climate Change", but at some point he said: "It does not really matter what you believe". It rang like music to my ears. He went on to say how many "red" states are actually leading the way in clean energy, particularly wind powered in this case. He said that pretty much everyone agrees in lower pollution; healthier air to breathe, and everyone agrees with lower costs. Bam. So beautiful. I just love this because people waste so much time trying to convince the other that their right is the right version of what is right. Most people are not willing to give that up, and maybe rightly so. Who is to say that what may be right for me at a certain time might be wrong for you etc. I am not saying that I do not believe in an objective reality where no moral laws exist—clearly I do. But God works in mysterious ways and can turn hearts in ways we can not imagine or even begin to understand. “For those who love God all things work together for good” (Romans 8:28). 

As mere mortals we can not read the hearts of men nor tell the future, but we can find areas of agreement and work towards mutual goals. I realize some areas are harder than others and the road seems more fog filled when such disparate priorities are in play, but I love the idea that it does not matter what you believe. I don't know if I have completely carved out the depth of that, but it seems there is something good there. Even people with supposed same or similar beliefs can have large areas of discord. It seems there is a meeting ground for humanity that lies not in one's beliefs but rather in one's actions for a common good. I felt a glimmer of hope in this unique gentleman's approach to such a divisive subject. “For in this hope we were saved” (Romans 8:24). 

I once knew a friend who said something to the effect of: "If there are only two choices, right and wrong, black and white, then there is not God". Kind of like Bishop Curry's where there is not love, there is not God. “God is love”; “Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him” 1 John 4:8 and 4:16b). God is life. God is far more complex than mere black and white, for all the colors of the rainbow exist within white (reflects all colors). Black is an absorption, lack of its own hue. Sometimes things are not what they seem and when it comes to God, certainly how much more so.

Predicament

I am a follower of Christ, and I hate my neighbor. There, I said it out loud. How can this be, I ask myself? Is this not against all that I not only embrace but am called for? (“You shall love your neighbor as yourself”). Yet, here I am. Ok, maybe hate is the wrong word, but it kinda feels that way. I am angry, and I know that anger is hurt — hurt at another's misguided sense of purpose and hurt at my own ignoring of my inner story. This is about a woman who from day one since we moved to this neighborhood has felt free to comment on our child and parenting choices. She has not been kind, nor helpful. Usually it is about controlling the situation all the while presenting it under the pretext of caring so very much. She has been petty and made passive aggressive comments that say, "You are doing it wrong, you are a bad parent, it is not good enough". 

The other day at the bus stop she approached me and really caught me off guard. It just happened, of course, that I woke up late that particular day. I rushed to get dressed but was literally still in a half-dream state when she lambasted me — first with several of her typical "savior stories": “Oh, the kids were playing hide and seek, under the car, then in the car in the heat. But yes: I was there to save the day.” The reality is we live in a very kid-friendly neighborhood. Our street ends in a cul-de-sac, and kids play along the street between us and a few other houses in a row. Off hand, I count about 15 kids and they all play together all the time. All the parents take part in watching out, keeping an eye on these little ones.

One thing she probably is not even aware of is that we actually have a perfectly clear view of her yard from our window. However, nonetheless, she went on to basically say that my children were responsible for her child's anxiety, that Pierson (whose little brother Soren follows and plays with her child) is also the problem. Sometimes Soren cries (surprise he's 3!), and this is causing her son anxiety because he does not know how to handle the situation. She continued with her passive aggressive insults: "I don't know what your parenting style is...blah blah blah", and per usual, each time I tried to explain my side of the story, view, etc., she immediately shut me down and said: “No, that's not the way it is.” 

Still half asleep my head began to spin. I basically muttered something to the effect of: "Well, maybe it is better if they just play at our house" and walked away. But that was it, I was done. I went home and cried. I cried because in that moment I felt empty and broken. I felt like I don't know how to do better, there is nothing left to give. I just don't know what it is and I definitely don't have it. Then I got mad. Mad that for five years I have been gracious and compliant. There was the time her babysitter came over to our house to ask for Pierson to play with his friend. This would have made the baby sitter’s life easier to have a happily entertained little boy to watch, both boys happier — and frankly given me a break too. She immediately came over when she returned from work that day explaining how this was absolutely not feasible since she could not burden her poor babysitter with two children when she was only paying for one. Once again being oh-so-conscientious. 

There was the time we were on a family walk in the neighborhood and Pierson was playing with his other neighbor friend, and she so sweetly said: "Where is the other member of your family'?”, full well knowing that he and his little friend decided to jump the fence that day and had just been caught when his other little friend’s parents went looking for them. We subsequently—all of five to ten minutes later—found this out ourselves. There was the time at the swimming pool when I was only a few weeks postpartum and desperately made it to the pool to get Pierson out of the house. With baby Soren on my lap under the umbrella, her husband came over to me whining that Pierson had splashed him in the face and would not apologize. If I had had my wits about me, I could have responded: "Deal with it, you're a principal after all". But again, vulnerable and caught off guard, I explained our struggles with getting Pierson to listen, that we have tried the being-nice route, tried the cracking down route, and nothing seems to work. I apologized profusely and tripped over my words, my heart feeling raw and helpless. I could go on but I think the picture is clear. 

After the last incident at the bus stop that morning, I forbid my boys to be on their property, but something in me broke. I am done being compliant, gracious, trying to explain, only to be brushed off or down right shut down. I AM DONE. And yet — I can no longer look her in the face. And yet — I am called to love. Hmmm. gosh darn it. Even this morning, a father at the bus stop said goodbye to Pierson, and Pierson ignored him. Usually she sits in her car, but today she happened to come out to be social (how does she do that?). When Calvin went up to Pierson and gently corrected him about his behavior, the fellow kind of said: "Oh,  it doesn't matter", and she immediately joined him in agreement, criticizing that Calvin is being overly serious and correcting. I was standing directly on the other side and so could hear and see.

So which is it? I want to say, one minute we are not correcting and cautious enough with our child, and the other we are too much so? But I don't. I quietly tell Calvin she's at it again. I was looking forward to a nice breakfast, but am no longer hungry. I am angry, and here I am — I hate my neighbor. It's ok, it's my problem, I know it, and I own it. How do I get from here to love, I wonder? Where is my compassion for a woman who is desperately trying to feel that she has a stake in something in which she does not. Wanting to be a good and charitable being, yet stuck in controlling, critical behaviors that in her mind are out of caring, yet are hurtful and stressful to those on the receiving end. One who cannot listen but must always be the speaker. I can learn from you dear women. I am you too. 

My sadness perhaps lies in giving too much, to not be received, trying to enter into true relationship — and yet that door is not open. Where do my own secret sins lie? Do I use in other areas these same tricky tools of the devil's deception? I feel calmer now. I feel grace, and I feel peace. It was not in my time (which is the immediate, or better said, yesterday), but in the trust the time does come. “They who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength” (Isaiah 40:31). I feel grateful that she has energized me to have some fierce workouts burning off the spin of my mind (things I would like to say, but will not). I am grateful for writing and the cathartic nature of pen to paper. I will try to love you as my neighbor, but I may fail, and that is ok. Somehow your constant poking has emptied me, and from this space, the Lord can now fill me, and that is a gift. 

I don't know where to go from here, but I know I can let go of knowing, trying, explaining and justifying. Pierson is my gift from my Father above. He is my first born and my love. Certainly I have failed—sometimes too harsh, sometimes not enough so—but all I can give is what I have and somehow that must be enough. Maybe you push me to push myself to be a better parent, and maybe you teach me that enough is just right. So I sink in the gratitude and begin to feel the forgiveness. I can love you not by trying but rather by letting go. Through him all things are possible (“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me”). And for now that is abundantly so, and so much more than enough.

A Poem for a Change

Fall swept in overnight, so it seems.
At night a moon beam called and was answered into now.
Coolness propels me forward as I run through your essence.
Beware of the low branch where the spiders now play,
Weaving their tapestries and guiding our way.
Soon to be pumpkins on doorsteps.
Smiling and scaring our spirits each night,
The children are ready with costumes,
A fright to celebrate your beauty, your colors, your might.

Winter bear will soon embrace me,
Coaxing gently with soft moans.
At first will I resist,
Only to be succumbed by your soft pillow chest.
I lay my head upon you,
And with claws protecting and rocking
In your hammock I doze.
The dream is fully formed.
Now wandering through the mind,
There is music, and chocolate and babies who croon.
There are whispers and hushes as the pictures change.
There are crowds and then loneliness in a sullen pond.

Stop poking, persisting, your beak is too sharp, I am not ready yet.
My slumber is warming, my heart is closed shut.
Your chirps are disturbing, your buzzes so strong,
Please let me sleep just one more moment long.
Oh butterfly you conquer, your beauty too great,
You tempt me and pull me to flight oh so light.
My eyes are now open, the bees lead the way,
Your fragrance dear flowers intoxicates my day.

Oh day you grew longer,
Your nights are more bright.
I jump and I swim in pure summer's delight.
Pure bliss is my state,
Not a chill or a burden, no cares in my mind.
The voyage begins as it ends once more,
We navigate our paths until safely ashore.