Forty years ago today Ohio National Guardsmen opened fire on a crowd of unarmed college students at Kent State, killing four and wounding 13. In the aftermath of the shootings President Nixon remarked, "when dissent turns violent it invites tragedy." Of course, it was not the dissenters who turned violent that Monday morning. It was the empire's police, armed with weapons of war trained on unarmed college students in the middle of a campus that was stirred in protest against the empire's war in Vietnam.
I graduated from Kent 13 springs after the shootings, and participated in memorial vigils each of the five springs I was on campus. I've stood in the spots where the kids were mortally wounded, and I've stood on the spot where other kids turned and fired their weapons.
In other words, I've looked at the shootings from both sides now, and from both sides it has always been clear to me that had Nixon been capable of honesty he would have said, "when dissent begins to threaten the foundations of established order then the established order will bring to bear deadly force to quell the dissent." But no president can ever be that honest.
As a Kent alum I have a bagful of memories of May 4 memorials, but the most affecting May 4 connection for me happened more than 15 years after I'd graduated during the time when I lived in Pittsburgh.
I'll share the story in a subsequent post. My laptop is, once again, seriously misbehaving -- crashed twice since I began this post. Urrrrg.
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
with the Bishops and Elders
I spent much of the past two days with the Bishops and Elders Council of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force. Monday we met with Josh DuBois at the White House Office of Faith-based and Neighborhood Partnerships.
The first thing that should be said is that Josh DuBois is one whip-smart young man. The amount of information that he holds in his head is more than most of us hold in our electronic data bases. Oh, to be young!
The second thing to be said is what a difference an election makes. The Bush Administration steadfastly refused to engage national GLBT leaders on the pressing concerns of the community: employment and housing discrimination, GLBT poverty, the issues that uniquely confront aging gays and lesbians in health care, housing and family law matters. Monday afternoon it was clear that the Obama Administration is informed and engaged on the issues that actually comprise anything that might be called "the homosexual agenda." That agenda has nothing to do with "spreading a lifestyle" and everything to do with protecting lives and rights. The present Administration, while far from perfect on these issues, simply sees them far more clearly because they do not come at them with blinders provided by leaders from the Religious Right.
Those leaders include folks like Lou Engle, founder of The Call. Engle is reportedly headed to Uganda to support its off shoot program, TheCall Uganda, whose stated mission includes praying for help with "the challenges in our country such as ... witchcraft and human sacrifice, homosexuality and increased immorality."
While there is a certain attraction to having the Lou Engles of the world out of the U.S., we really ought to export the best of what we are not the worst. Uganda has plenty of problems with the U.S. exporting hate.
Engle's visit is timed to support Uganda's much-discussed anti-homosexuality bill, a law that would make same-gender relationships a capital crime and, if I were Ugandan, even criminalize this blog for failure to report known homosexuals and leave me liable for up to seven years in prison for my associations.
Meanwhile a bit further south, two young men in Malawi, Steven Monjeza and Tiwonge Chimbalanga, remain in prison, facing sentences of up to 14 years, for the crime of professing their love for on another.
Yesterday, on the steps of National City Christian Church, a young African gay man named Moses gave thanks to God that "something good is happening" as he prayed for the safety and liberation of his family, friends and gay and lesbians brothers and sisters in Africa.
As Dr. King put it, we are all bound together in an inescapable web of mutuality. Whatever effects one directly effects us all indirectly. The freedom to love one another must not be bound by any government, and just as we must be concerned for the rights of marginalized people here we must stand in solidarity with the marginalized and oppressed everywhere.
The first thing that should be said is that Josh DuBois is one whip-smart young man. The amount of information that he holds in his head is more than most of us hold in our electronic data bases. Oh, to be young!
The second thing to be said is what a difference an election makes. The Bush Administration steadfastly refused to engage national GLBT leaders on the pressing concerns of the community: employment and housing discrimination, GLBT poverty, the issues that uniquely confront aging gays and lesbians in health care, housing and family law matters. Monday afternoon it was clear that the Obama Administration is informed and engaged on the issues that actually comprise anything that might be called "the homosexual agenda." That agenda has nothing to do with "spreading a lifestyle" and everything to do with protecting lives and rights. The present Administration, while far from perfect on these issues, simply sees them far more clearly because they do not come at them with blinders provided by leaders from the Religious Right.
Those leaders include folks like Lou Engle, founder of The Call. Engle is reportedly headed to Uganda to support its off shoot program, TheCall Uganda, whose stated mission includes praying for help with "the challenges in our country such as ... witchcraft and human sacrifice, homosexuality and increased immorality."
While there is a certain attraction to having the Lou Engles of the world out of the U.S., we really ought to export the best of what we are not the worst. Uganda has plenty of problems with the U.S. exporting hate.
Engle's visit is timed to support Uganda's much-discussed anti-homosexuality bill, a law that would make same-gender relationships a capital crime and, if I were Ugandan, even criminalize this blog for failure to report known homosexuals and leave me liable for up to seven years in prison for my associations.
Meanwhile a bit further south, two young men in Malawi, Steven Monjeza and Tiwonge Chimbalanga, remain in prison, facing sentences of up to 14 years, for the crime of professing their love for on another.
Yesterday, on the steps of National City Christian Church, a young African gay man named Moses gave thanks to God that "something good is happening" as he prayed for the safety and liberation of his family, friends and gay and lesbians brothers and sisters in Africa.
As Dr. King put it, we are all bound together in an inescapable web of mutuality. Whatever effects one directly effects us all indirectly. The freedom to love one another must not be bound by any government, and just as we must be concerned for the rights of marginalized people here we must stand in solidarity with the marginalized and oppressed everywhere.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Earth Days
It is a beautiful day in the neighborhood, as my favorite Presbyterian minister used to say.
I got a note from my uncle this morning. Yesterday was my late aunt's birthday as well as the anniversary of their engagement. He recalled that their first book was on creation care, although long before that term of art had come into use.
John's note details what is happening in his garden this spring, and notes that both of the camps that he directed over the many years, Hanover and New Hope, had substantial demonstration gardens that helped feed the camp community.
None of that particularly suprised me. I have seen John in the garden many times over the years at Hanover -- the first time he met my two sons he was working in the garden, dripping sweat and loving life.
But reading his note prompted me to wonder where his love of the garden came from. My father, John's younger brother, never muched cared for gardening. My mom loves it, but dad never had any interest that I could discern. He knows nature that way one might know a set of facts. He always knew what kind of tree was growing in front of him, but as he grew older it seemed that trees were mostly obstacles to mowing the grass.
To be sure, my dad has always been an environmentalist in his convictions, but not so much a practicing one beyond the point of basic stewardship of resources -- and on that point I have always had the impression that it was more about saving a nickel than saving the planet.
Until the past few years I would have said that I was much more like my father than like my uncle. As urban dwellers in Chicago we rarely had any green space in which to garden, and we never went out of our way to create any.
During our interim sojourn between those years and our Arlington time we did have yards, and we did some basics, but those were also the years when our children were young and so time was always at a premium.
But I think the bigger issue was that we did not stay put long enough to put down roots, literally.
Now we've lived in the same house for almost seven years, and there's no move on the horizon. We've planted a tree, an autum blaze maple, and stayed put long enough to see it grow taller than the house. We just planted another, a Japanese emperor maple, that will never grow as tall as the house, but I hope to stay put long enough to see it broaden across one half of our small front yard.
Tending to the earth requires time, and time spent in one place. It also requires focusing on that one place with considerable attention. I think this was the great difference between my father and his brother.
Now my dad is slipping gradually into Parkinson's dimentia, and he lives pretty much out of focus all the time. But long before the disease struck, my dad's restless, creative energy drew his focus always to the next thing, while my uncle not only stayed put physically, he also stayed put emotionally.
I have always been, in that respect, my father's son. The horizon has always beckoned, and I've always looked for the next thing. I'm sure that will always be true, but I have learned that the only reason the grass if ever greener on the other side is because someone stayed put long enough to make it that way.
As I watched the pictures from the Gulf oil rig disaster this week, it struck me that we need all of that oil because we are a culture that does not value roots. It is altogether fitting that the great crises of our time are and will be about what our lifestyles are doing to all of the roots that we are too busy to tend.
I got a note from my uncle this morning. Yesterday was my late aunt's birthday as well as the anniversary of their engagement. He recalled that their first book was on creation care, although long before that term of art had come into use.
John's note details what is happening in his garden this spring, and notes that both of the camps that he directed over the many years, Hanover and New Hope, had substantial demonstration gardens that helped feed the camp community.
None of that particularly suprised me. I have seen John in the garden many times over the years at Hanover -- the first time he met my two sons he was working in the garden, dripping sweat and loving life.
But reading his note prompted me to wonder where his love of the garden came from. My father, John's younger brother, never muched cared for gardening. My mom loves it, but dad never had any interest that I could discern. He knows nature that way one might know a set of facts. He always knew what kind of tree was growing in front of him, but as he grew older it seemed that trees were mostly obstacles to mowing the grass.
To be sure, my dad has always been an environmentalist in his convictions, but not so much a practicing one beyond the point of basic stewardship of resources -- and on that point I have always had the impression that it was more about saving a nickel than saving the planet.
Until the past few years I would have said that I was much more like my father than like my uncle. As urban dwellers in Chicago we rarely had any green space in which to garden, and we never went out of our way to create any.
During our interim sojourn between those years and our Arlington time we did have yards, and we did some basics, but those were also the years when our children were young and so time was always at a premium.
But I think the bigger issue was that we did not stay put long enough to put down roots, literally.
Now we've lived in the same house for almost seven years, and there's no move on the horizon. We've planted a tree, an autum blaze maple, and stayed put long enough to see it grow taller than the house. We just planted another, a Japanese emperor maple, that will never grow as tall as the house, but I hope to stay put long enough to see it broaden across one half of our small front yard.
Tending to the earth requires time, and time spent in one place. It also requires focusing on that one place with considerable attention. I think this was the great difference between my father and his brother.
Now my dad is slipping gradually into Parkinson's dimentia, and he lives pretty much out of focus all the time. But long before the disease struck, my dad's restless, creative energy drew his focus always to the next thing, while my uncle not only stayed put physically, he also stayed put emotionally.
I have always been, in that respect, my father's son. The horizon has always beckoned, and I've always looked for the next thing. I'm sure that will always be true, but I have learned that the only reason the grass if ever greener on the other side is because someone stayed put long enough to make it that way.
As I watched the pictures from the Gulf oil rig disaster this week, it struck me that we need all of that oil because we are a culture that does not value roots. It is altogether fitting that the great crises of our time are and will be about what our lifestyles are doing to all of the roots that we are too busy to tend.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Greetings from Asbury Park ...
Well, not exactly, but I did pass the exit as I was counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike on my way up to Stony Point this afternoon. And there's your two pop cultures nods for the day.
It has been a while since I last posted; in fact, it's the longest pause since I started this blog four or five years ago. I've come face to face with my own ridiculous dependence on convenient technology. It's not just technology I'm dependent upon, it's convenient technology.
As noted last month, my laptop died a sad and overheated death. I spent several day in vain hope and resucitation efforts loading and reloading operating systems and so forth, only to conclude in the end that it was a hardware issue. Apparently the video card melted down, almost literally, due to overheating.
That happened the same week I severely sprained an ankle (trying to keep up with a kid half my age on the basketball court). All of that happened just before Holy Week.
All of which was enough to make a preacher cuss -- holy @#$!, as it were.
So, just in time for Easter I got a new laptop. But by that point not only was I in the midst of the business of the season, I was also out of practice, or, better, out of the practice of writing.
We are what we practice. When we set aside practices for whatever reason, it is all too easy to leave them set aside. Sometimes that is not a bad thing. To every thing, and every practice, there is a season.
But often we leave practices set aside because they are either habits or they are not. The practice of eating well, the practice of living lightly on the earth, the practice of worship, the practice of prayer, the practice of sport or art or music require, well, practice.
Contrary to the old saying, practice does not make perfect. Practice does, however, make us. Moreover, practice is not always convenient, and for one as addicted to (or practiced at) convenience, temporary inconvenience becomes a too easy excuse for setting a practice aside.
So I'm picking this practice back up, even as I engage again the practice of making peace as part of the Presbyterian Peacemaking Fellowship at its first ever convocation of peacemakers this weekend at the Stony Point Center in New York.
I am spending the next couple of days in the company of a wonderful collection of remarkable people whose experience and wisdom humble and inspire me. The grace of being in their presence this evening has, if nothing else, given me the energy to wake up the blog and pick up the practice. Not empty and aching ... but still off to look for a new, more peaceful America.
Sorry, the New Jersey Turnpike just does that to me.
It has been a while since I last posted; in fact, it's the longest pause since I started this blog four or five years ago. I've come face to face with my own ridiculous dependence on convenient technology. It's not just technology I'm dependent upon, it's convenient technology.
As noted last month, my laptop died a sad and overheated death. I spent several day in vain hope and resucitation efforts loading and reloading operating systems and so forth, only to conclude in the end that it was a hardware issue. Apparently the video card melted down, almost literally, due to overheating.
That happened the same week I severely sprained an ankle (trying to keep up with a kid half my age on the basketball court). All of that happened just before Holy Week.
All of which was enough to make a preacher cuss -- holy @#$!, as it were.
So, just in time for Easter I got a new laptop. But by that point not only was I in the midst of the business of the season, I was also out of practice, or, better, out of the practice of writing.
We are what we practice. When we set aside practices for whatever reason, it is all too easy to leave them set aside. Sometimes that is not a bad thing. To every thing, and every practice, there is a season.
But often we leave practices set aside because they are either habits or they are not. The practice of eating well, the practice of living lightly on the earth, the practice of worship, the practice of prayer, the practice of sport or art or music require, well, practice.
Contrary to the old saying, practice does not make perfect. Practice does, however, make us. Moreover, practice is not always convenient, and for one as addicted to (or practiced at) convenience, temporary inconvenience becomes a too easy excuse for setting a practice aside.
So I'm picking this practice back up, even as I engage again the practice of making peace as part of the Presbyterian Peacemaking Fellowship at its first ever convocation of peacemakers this weekend at the Stony Point Center in New York.
I am spending the next couple of days in the company of a wonderful collection of remarkable people whose experience and wisdom humble and inspire me. The grace of being in their presence this evening has, if nothing else, given me the energy to wake up the blog and pick up the practice. Not empty and aching ... but still off to look for a new, more peaceful America.
Sorry, the New Jersey Turnpike just does that to me.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Patience
This week, in a book I'd set aside at least two years ago, I found a slip of paper on which I had written a couple of commitments: to practice patience and to find moments of joy to celebrate each day.
I was an excellent reminder to stumble across just now. We are almost to the end of Lent, and stand at the moment on the edge of Holy Week. Holy Week demands patience, as we move from the waving of palms and the loud "hosannas" to betrayal, crucifixion and the longing for new life.
Personally, I'm forced to wait right now, as I continue to be homebound with my injured ankle. Moreover, my laptop has resisted all efforts at resurrection! So, I can't get out because I can't drive or walk much, and I can't communicate with the ease we've all become accustomed to.
Obviously my Lenten commitment has gone the way of the laptop!
The situation has also challenged that old commitment to patience and celebration, to be sure. On the other hand, it has driven me back to some books I'd set aside, including John Crossan's God & Empire, in which I found the slip of paper.
Crossan invites us to confront the questions that inevitably arise when Christian faith confronts political empire. As we marked last week the seventh anniversary of the invasion of Iraq, and as we mark next week the death of Jesus at the hands of the empire of his day, it seemed a timely coincidence that I should return to this book and find in it my own promise to practice patience and to seek joy.
I was an excellent reminder to stumble across just now. We are almost to the end of Lent, and stand at the moment on the edge of Holy Week. Holy Week demands patience, as we move from the waving of palms and the loud "hosannas" to betrayal, crucifixion and the longing for new life.
Personally, I'm forced to wait right now, as I continue to be homebound with my injured ankle. Moreover, my laptop has resisted all efforts at resurrection! So, I can't get out because I can't drive or walk much, and I can't communicate with the ease we've all become accustomed to.
Obviously my Lenten commitment has gone the way of the laptop!
The situation has also challenged that old commitment to patience and celebration, to be sure. On the other hand, it has driven me back to some books I'd set aside, including John Crossan's God & Empire, in which I found the slip of paper.
Crossan invites us to confront the questions that inevitably arise when Christian faith confronts political empire. As we marked last week the seventh anniversary of the invasion of Iraq, and as we mark next week the death of Jesus at the hands of the empire of his day, it seemed a timely coincidence that I should return to this book and find in it my own promise to practice patience and to seek joy.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Saving ...
As noted a couple of days ago, my laptop is misbehaving. As a result, I've spent a lot of time -- writing time -- backing up files in case this is a sickness unto death.
Backing up files reminds me of one of the Platonic dialogues about writing. I don't recall which dialogue -- Phaedrus perhaps -- but the conversation concerns the notion that writing is a secondary and thus lesser form of communication than speech.
Backing up files would come way down the road, then, and the entire internet would as well.
There was a time, not that long ago, when I would happily have gone on at length on this stuff, but I've forgotten most of it and I guess I didn't save the files. Ah well.
Back to backing up.
Backing up files reminds me of one of the Platonic dialogues about writing. I don't recall which dialogue -- Phaedrus perhaps -- but the conversation concerns the notion that writing is a secondary and thus lesser form of communication than speech.
Backing up files would come way down the road, then, and the entire internet would as well.
There was a time, not that long ago, when I would happily have gone on at length on this stuff, but I've forgotten most of it and I guess I didn't save the files. Ah well.
Back to backing up.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
One Ton of Fanmail ... or They Just Don't Write Hate Mail Like They Used To
The piece I wrote for People of Faith for Equality Virginia responding to Attorney General Cuccinelli's recent actions ran today as an op-ed in the Richmond Times-Dispatch. By this evening I've only received two e-mail condemnations, neither of which was particularly interesting or creative.
Times have changed. Ten years ago I was forced to resign a church in Pittsburgh after preaching a sermon on same-sex marriage rights. Five years ago we got threats after Clarendon announced its marriage rights policy.
Today? A couple of lukewarm e-mails that don't even rise to the level of hate mail. I am somewhat disappointed. After all, if we're not getting hate mail we're not doing our jobs, a colleague once reassured me.
On the other hand, the nonresponse is informative on at least two levels.
It could be further evidence of the rapid decline of print media and simply indicate that no one is reading op ed pieces anymore. There is a sad truth to that. It's not sad because of what it says about the failures of the media (which are many and manifold), but rather because increasingly we only find opinion pieces in electronic space that is finely sliced and segmented, and where we seldom encounter voices we do not already agree with. To that extent, the death of the tradition of Sunday op eds saddens me.
The nonresponse could also be evidence of the continued rapid cultural shift that makes speaking out for the rights of GLBT people far less likely to engender angry response than it was just a few years ago. When we did the marriage policy change at Clarendon in 2005 the mail did not stop for weeks and the response included threatening phone calls to church.
The best this round of mail could produce was a bit of pathetic partisanship from someone in Mechanicsville: "Gays don't want equality, they DEMAND superiority; and, 'want to be out there' (pun intended) flaunting on television as often as Obama is...which is way too often!"
Harry Knox, from HRC, preached at Clarendon this morning. He was speaking with a group of us following worship and noted that roughly 90 percent of the American public now supports ending Don't Ask Don't Tell, including a majority of Republicans.
Times are changing ... and you have to work a lot harder to generate good hate mail these days.
Times have changed. Ten years ago I was forced to resign a church in Pittsburgh after preaching a sermon on same-sex marriage rights. Five years ago we got threats after Clarendon announced its marriage rights policy.
Today? A couple of lukewarm e-mails that don't even rise to the level of hate mail. I am somewhat disappointed. After all, if we're not getting hate mail we're not doing our jobs, a colleague once reassured me.
On the other hand, the nonresponse is informative on at least two levels.
It could be further evidence of the rapid decline of print media and simply indicate that no one is reading op ed pieces anymore. There is a sad truth to that. It's not sad because of what it says about the failures of the media (which are many and manifold), but rather because increasingly we only find opinion pieces in electronic space that is finely sliced and segmented, and where we seldom encounter voices we do not already agree with. To that extent, the death of the tradition of Sunday op eds saddens me.
The nonresponse could also be evidence of the continued rapid cultural shift that makes speaking out for the rights of GLBT people far less likely to engender angry response than it was just a few years ago. When we did the marriage policy change at Clarendon in 2005 the mail did not stop for weeks and the response included threatening phone calls to church.
The best this round of mail could produce was a bit of pathetic partisanship from someone in Mechanicsville: "Gays don't want equality, they DEMAND superiority; and, 'want to be out there' (pun intended) flaunting on television as often as Obama is...which is way too often!"
Harry Knox, from HRC, preached at Clarendon this morning. He was speaking with a group of us following worship and noted that roughly 90 percent of the American public now supports ending Don't Ask Don't Tell, including a majority of Republicans.
Times are changing ... and you have to work a lot harder to generate good hate mail these days.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Everything Put Together Falls Apart
The curly haired boy pictured further down has infected me with his cold.
Some strange viral thing infected my laptop yesterday.
Everything put together falls apart.
One could go lots of places from there, but my head is stuffed with anything but thought today so I'm just going to leave at that.
All the king's horses and all the king's men cannot but this back together again.
Some strange viral thing infected my laptop yesterday.
Everything put together falls apart.
One could go lots of places from there, but my head is stuffed with anything but thought today so I'm just going to leave at that.
All the king's horses and all the king's men cannot but this back together again.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Sometimes a Cigar Is ... Just Another Day
The great privilege of ministry comes in walking through the valleys and across the mountain tops with people. I've had my share of such experiences, and they inevitably remind me of what I love about my job. Celebrating with couples who have become friends as they marry. Weeping with friends who have lost loved ones. Marching with friends seeking justice. Organizing with friends seeking peace. Studying with friends seeking wisdom and understanding. These are the moments of ministry that I, and most of my colleagues, love.
If we're lucky, we serve in communities that offer many such opportunities. I am lucky.
If we're unlucky, we serve in communities that are riven with strife over old wounds never healed. I have been unlucky.
But lucky or unlucky, all ministry has -- like all work -- its days of merely pushing the paper into the next tray. It's almost 5:00 p.m., and I've pushed a lot of paper today: session packet e-mailed - check; session packet copied - check; bulletin copied - check; e-mail blast out - check; sanctuary prepped for Sunday - check; web page updated - check.
Sometimes a day is just a day.
On the other hand, even on such a day, I managed to have lunch with one of the wise elders of the community and to share some organizing materials with colleagues in justice work.
Inspiration comes on such days as this in the details -- where God is.
So when the day gets long and seems to be dragging on tend to some details and seek the Lord where she may be found.
If we're lucky, we serve in communities that offer many such opportunities. I am lucky.
If we're unlucky, we serve in communities that are riven with strife over old wounds never healed. I have been unlucky.
But lucky or unlucky, all ministry has -- like all work -- its days of merely pushing the paper into the next tray. It's almost 5:00 p.m., and I've pushed a lot of paper today: session packet e-mailed - check; session packet copied - check; bulletin copied - check; e-mail blast out - check; sanctuary prepped for Sunday - check; web page updated - check.
Sometimes a day is just a day.
On the other hand, even on such a day, I managed to have lunch with one of the wise elders of the community and to share some organizing materials with colleagues in justice work.
Inspiration comes on such days as this in the details -- where God is.
So when the day gets long and seems to be dragging on tend to some details and seek the Lord where she may be found.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Something's Happening Here ... What It Is Ain't Exactly Clear
I spent several hours yesterday serving as a peace marshal at a health care reform rally sponsored by Health Care for America Now. While the event was rowdy, it never veered toward anything nonviolent so I didn't have much to do other than watch and listen.
The target of the rally was the meeting of the insurance industry group America's Health Insurance Plans, which gathered at the Ritz-Carlton in DC. The choice of hotel was as tone deaf as the recent rate hikes announced by several insurance companies. One wonders who does PR for these folks. Are they simply so removed from the reality of this particular moment that they don't realize how they look, or are they so arrogant that they don't care how they look?
As one industry employee attending the conference said, “Why don’t you just pull up in Rolls-Royces and Porsches?”
It reminded me of the auto executives flying into DC on their private jets to meet with congress and ask for a bailout. Who advises these folks?
On the other hand, I'd ask the same question of the rally organizers.
Some aspects of the event were well planned. Some 5,000 people participated according to an estimate in this morning's Washington Post. The target of the demonstration -- AHIP's meeting -- was well chosen, and the speakers did a good job of posing health care reform as reigning in the well chronicled abuses of the insurance industry. For what it was, the demonstration was a fine and successful event.
But while I am all for taking to the streets in protest, more than a decade after Seattle the rallies and demonstrations with drums and puppets and street theater all begin to look and sound the same. It seems too pat and predictable, and too easy to dismiss. I wonder what it would feel like to ask participants to dress up rather than down, to walk in silence rather than making noise, to disrupt business as usual in a completely different manner, and to engage the issue in a way that challenges the system and demands its end in uncompromising language that does not simply demonize those who profit from it and support it.
What if 5,000 people, all dressed in dark suits or skirts, walked 10 across through the streets of the headquarter cities of the insurance companies and marched into those office buildings -- or into the arms of arresting police filling the jails -- presented tons of claim forms, or read off a list of thousands of names of people who died last year because they did not have insurance, or simply stood in silent mass witness to those lives?
Such a demonstration would take incredible discipline, and a huge amount of organizing and training not to mention money. In other words, it might take way more commitment of time and treasure than people are willing to give -- which may just be why we've been stuck with an inefficient and unjust health care insurance system for more than 100 years.
Then I spent last evening at a gathering of the Luke 6 community in formation. We spent our time studying the founding text. The sixth chapter of Luke is Jesus' sermon on the plain and Luke's version of the Beatitudes. Luke's version of these teachings is famously more challenging than that in Matthew 5 (which is challenging enough for me).
I was struck, yesterday in particular, by the opening stories of the Luke text. In it Jesus is practicing direct action and protest. He goes straight into the territory of those who oppose him -- the scribes and Pharisees. In Luke 6 Jesus goes to the synagogue and scandalizes the religious leaders with his teaching about what is appropriate to the Sabbath. Without ever speaking a personal word about the people he opposes, he calls into question everything that they support.
While they may have felt humiliated, their humiliation is never the point of Jesus' action nor of Luke's writing. Both the actions and Luke's account leave open the possibility of restored relationship while completely undermining the system that has broken relationships to begin with.
Like the rest of Luke 6, the opening stories present incredibly difficult challenges to those who would try to follow Jesus, in this case, into the streets. I ended up yesterday feeling completely inadequate to that challenge and rather glad to be on the rolls of Blue Cross than on the way to the cross.
Monday, March 08, 2010
What? Pastor Glenn Beck ...
Apparently Fox News' Glen Beck was talking about churches recently. This is all hearsay because the only time I actually hear Glen Beck is when Jon Stewart plays clips of Beck for the sole purpose of mocking him.
Anyway, apparently Beck was telling his listeners to be wary of church web sites that use words or phrases such as "justice," "social justice," or "economic justice." I hear that he told folks that if their church's sites used such phrases then they should quit the church because it was no doubt a den of socialists.
I thought I'd better check my church's site to make sure that we're not socialists, so I clicked on the home page. Damn! There it is. In the center of page. Quotated. In italics.
OMG! We're socialists! To make matters worse, we claim, as part of our mission statement, that we try to live out the love and justice of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
One wonders if Beck has ever actually opened a Bible. Mine has more than 300 verses that explicitly speak of God's deep concern for justice for the poor. But then again I probably have the revised socialist edition.
It reminds me of the days when I was looking for ministry positions. I noticed that liberal church's church information forms (sort of a reverse resume) always used the phrase "social justice." Conservative churches always used the phrase "Bible believing." I never did find a "Bible-believing congregation deeply committed to social justice."
Anyway, apparently Beck was telling his listeners to be wary of church web sites that use words or phrases such as "justice," "social justice," or "economic justice." I hear that he told folks that if their church's sites used such phrases then they should quit the church because it was no doubt a den of socialists.
I thought I'd better check my church's site to make sure that we're not socialists, so I clicked on the home page. Damn! There it is. In the center of page. Quotated. In italics.
God has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?
OMG! We're socialists! To make matters worse, we claim, as part of our mission statement, that we try to live out the love and justice of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
One wonders if Beck has ever actually opened a Bible. Mine has more than 300 verses that explicitly speak of God's deep concern for justice for the poor. But then again I probably have the revised socialist edition.
It reminds me of the days when I was looking for ministry positions. I noticed that liberal church's church information forms (sort of a reverse resume) always used the phrase "social justice." Conservative churches always used the phrase "Bible believing." I never did find a "Bible-believing congregation deeply committed to social justice."
Sunday, March 07, 2010
Responding to Cuccinelli
Below is a letter to Virginia's attorney general Ken Cuccinelli, who last week sent a letter to Virginia's colleges and universities informing them that none of their non-discrimination policies that pertain to gays and lesbians would be enforced by his office and that the schools should rescind the portions of policies that refer to gays and lesbians.
I wrote this for the board of People of Faith for Equality Virginia and we are seeking signatures from any Virginia clergy or religious leaders who are willing to sign on. Please use the "comments" to add your name and leadership position.
Sir,
When I read of your recent recommendations to Virginia’s colleges and universities I thought immediately of the father of our great university system. Thomas Jefferson famously said of other people’s religious orientations that they neither picked his pocket nor broke his bones. I’m sure he would agree that another person’s sex life neither picks my pockets nor breaks my bones.
But when bias against a person's sexual orientation picks their pocket through job discrimination or breaks their bones through gay bashing then it is the responsibility of the state to protect them in every appropriate manner. Hate crimes laws and antidiscrimination laws and policies are long-standing, well-established and proven legal means of affording such protection. Gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Virginians clearly face discrimination and hate crimes and the fear that accompany them.
Failure to act in the face of that reality is a black eye on the Commonwealth, and on the office you hold. To act in direct contradiction to the reality must have Mr. Jefferson spinning in his grave.
When you know that a woman is threatened on the job because she is female would you not bring the full weight of the law to bear in any resulting legal proceeding? When you know that a family loses their home because they are black would you not prosecute? When you know that a public college or university refuses to register a Christian student group because of its faith-based bylaws would you not pursue the case with vigor?
When a college professor is fired for being lesbian or a young man is beaten and killed because he is gay why would you not do the same?
That is the question your recent letter to Virginia colleges and universities warning them on including sexuality in their nondiscrimination policies raises. When you know that more than 15 percent of all hate crimes are committed against people based on perceived sexual orientation how can you in good conscience block protection of gays, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered students and faculty on Virginia campuses? When you know – and there is overwhelming evidence – that young men are victimized on college campuses because they are gay why do you use your office to enable the victimizers?
You can deny that allegation, but our state’s long history of racial discrimination and violence clearly teaches us that when public officials do not act to protect those who are victimized because of who they are then those who perpetrate such acts are enabled and even encouraged to continue. Failure to use the full weight of your office to protect vulnerable Virginians is wrong. It is immoral. It is an affront to the very One who, self evidently, created us all equal and with certain inalienable rights.
Like Mr. Jefferson with respect to other faiths, you do not have to be gay or lesbian, you do not have to like gays or lesbians, you do not even have to respect them, but you do have a constitutional responsibility to protect them and your recent actions demonstrate clearly that you are failing to live up to the responsibilities and obligations of your job.
The arc of the moral universe is long, but it does bend toward justice. I urge you to reconsider your position and stand on the right side of history.
Sincerely,
Rev. Dr. David Ensign
Pastor, Clarendon Presbyterian Church, Arlington
For the board of People of Faith for Equality in Virginia
I wrote this for the board of People of Faith for Equality Virginia and we are seeking signatures from any Virginia clergy or religious leaders who are willing to sign on. Please use the "comments" to add your name and leadership position.
Sir,
When I read of your recent recommendations to Virginia’s colleges and universities I thought immediately of the father of our great university system. Thomas Jefferson famously said of other people’s religious orientations that they neither picked his pocket nor broke his bones. I’m sure he would agree that another person’s sex life neither picks my pockets nor breaks my bones.
But when bias against a person's sexual orientation picks their pocket through job discrimination or breaks their bones through gay bashing then it is the responsibility of the state to protect them in every appropriate manner. Hate crimes laws and antidiscrimination laws and policies are long-standing, well-established and proven legal means of affording such protection. Gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Virginians clearly face discrimination and hate crimes and the fear that accompany them.
Failure to act in the face of that reality is a black eye on the Commonwealth, and on the office you hold. To act in direct contradiction to the reality must have Mr. Jefferson spinning in his grave.
When you know that a woman is threatened on the job because she is female would you not bring the full weight of the law to bear in any resulting legal proceeding? When you know that a family loses their home because they are black would you not prosecute? When you know that a public college or university refuses to register a Christian student group because of its faith-based bylaws would you not pursue the case with vigor?
When a college professor is fired for being lesbian or a young man is beaten and killed because he is gay why would you not do the same?
That is the question your recent letter to Virginia colleges and universities warning them on including sexuality in their nondiscrimination policies raises. When you know that more than 15 percent of all hate crimes are committed against people based on perceived sexual orientation how can you in good conscience block protection of gays, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered students and faculty on Virginia campuses? When you know – and there is overwhelming evidence – that young men are victimized on college campuses because they are gay why do you use your office to enable the victimizers?
You can deny that allegation, but our state’s long history of racial discrimination and violence clearly teaches us that when public officials do not act to protect those who are victimized because of who they are then those who perpetrate such acts are enabled and even encouraged to continue. Failure to use the full weight of your office to protect vulnerable Virginians is wrong. It is immoral. It is an affront to the very One who, self evidently, created us all equal and with certain inalienable rights.
Like Mr. Jefferson with respect to other faiths, you do not have to be gay or lesbian, you do not have to like gays or lesbians, you do not even have to respect them, but you do have a constitutional responsibility to protect them and your recent actions demonstrate clearly that you are failing to live up to the responsibilities and obligations of your job.
The arc of the moral universe is long, but it does bend toward justice. I urge you to reconsider your position and stand on the right side of history.
Sincerely,
Rev. Dr. David Ensign
Pastor, Clarendon Presbyterian Church, Arlington
For the board of People of Faith for Equality in Virginia
Friday, March 05, 2010
Another Opportunity for Ministry
My writing for today is an e-mail I sent to a young man in Florida whose story has been told in recent days on Daily Kos, in a diary entitled, "My Nephew Was Outed and Kicked Out of School Today." As the title suggests, the young man (18) was outed as gay and thrown out of his conservative "Christian" high school in North Carolina. His parents tried to send him to the pastor of their evangelical church where he would be told he needed to be "cured."
A similar situation in that church a bit earlier ended with the suicide of a young gay man who was told he needed to be cured from his sinful life. Lots of studies show that tragic story is repeated often among young gay men, especially when they are in unwelcoming contexts.
Instead of going to his church, the young man in the diary hopped in his car and drove to Florida to his aunt and uncle's home. She wrote the diary, and in a follow up, at her nephew's insistence, included his e-mail. I wrote him a brief supportive note last evening, and he wrote back asking a few questions.
Here's what I sent him this morning.
Hi,
I have heard many others say pretty much exactly what you've said here. The good news is ... well, the good news! The gospel is about God's love for all of creation or it's about nothing at all. As Paul wrote to the Romans,
So when people say hateful things or act hatefully to you in the name of God or the Bible or the church they are simply wrong. They may believe they are acting out of the best intentions, but they are wrong. They're wrong to take the Bible as more important than its message of love. They are wrong to treat you as less than a neighbor to be loved, as other than a child of God made in the image of a loving God for the sole purpose of loving and being loved.
Their Biblical interpretation skills aren't very good either. To begin with, the Bible actually says nothing at all about "homosexuality" because, in fact, the word "homosexual" did not exist in any language until the late 1800s. The writers of scripture simply had no concept of committed, same-gender relationships and thus no word for it. The handful of passages that are used to condemn homosexuality have nothing to do with what we now understand homosexuality to be -- that is to say, those passages have nothing to do with you and your sexuality, which is a gift from God.
There is a ton of Biblical study on this topic, but the best relatively short piece I've come across is actually fairly old (1980s) written by a theologian named Walter Wink. You can find it on line here. The organization whose web site is linked there is called SoulForce, and it was founded by the Rev. Mel White and his partner. Mel was raised in a conservative evangelical household and trained for ministry in the evangelical part of the church. Along the way he worked with Pat Robertson, Billy Graham, Jerry Fallwell and other conservatives pastors. Mel is a warm, wonderful, grounded Christian and could be a voice of wisdom for you. His contact information is on the bio page of the SoulForce site.
Beyond the gay-related scripture stuff, I encourage you to read the Psalms. As a straight guy (married with three kids, including a son your age), I've certainly never had to go through what you are in the midst of, but like everyone I've faced difficult times and deep pain. In those moments the poetry of the Psalms has reminded me that I'm not alone, that pain and hurt and anger are universal experiences, that though we walk sometimes through the darkest valleys and feel that enemies surround us, God is with us and God's steadfast love endures forever. The Psalms give voice to all of that, and I believe that's why Jesus quoted them on the cross -- "my God, my God, why have you foresaken me" -- and, hey, if it's good enough for Jesus!
I also highly recommend getting hold of the documentary, For the Bible Tells Me So. It is a wonderful look at the lives of several families who struggle through a child's coming out and their church's response. If you follow the link to the film's site take a look at the statement of director Daniel Karslake. My good friend, the Rev. Carol Howard Merritt, interviewed Karslake on her radio podcast, God Complex Radio, a while back and it's a good listen. The religion and faith program of the Human Rights Campaign has produced a study guide for the documentary as well. The Rev. Harry Knox, who directs HRC's faith-based outreach is friend of mine and I'm sure he'd be happy to e-chat with you as well. Harry's going to be preaching at my church in a couple of weeks. He's a warm, funny, faithful, southern, gay man who is just good fun to talk with.
I hope I'm not overloading you with this, but I'm figuring you'll use what seems useful and ignore the rest. I do hope you'll get the sense from this that there are tons of faithful Christians who love God and take scripture seriously (and seriously enough not to take it literally), who also understand that the lives of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered folks are part of God's wondrous creation and they are beloved by their Creator just as they are. Lots of such folks are, like you and me, southeners, and many grew up in pretty conservative households and churches, and have walked down the road you are traveling. So you are not alone in this, and there is a place in a loving, supportive, welcoming faith community for you.
I've written a note to my friend Michael Adee who directs the More Light Presbyterians network of congregations in my denomination working for the full inclusion and empowerment of GLBT people in the life of the church. I asked Michael for suggestions of contacts in the Tampa area, and I'm sure he will have some ideas that I'll pass along. Michael is another strong, warm, funny, faithful, southern, gay man (who also has a strange sports affliction being a die-hard Saints fan which also deeply offends the Peyton fan in me -- what is it with you people that you cannot see that God loves Tennessee more and that Rocky Top is a hymn in highest heaven!). He's also an accomplished athlete and has competed in the world Gay Games in tennis. I'm sure that Michael would also be happy to connect.
Hang in there through all of this. Keep the faith, and know, above all else, that you are beloved.
peace,
David
A similar situation in that church a bit earlier ended with the suicide of a young gay man who was told he needed to be cured from his sinful life. Lots of studies show that tragic story is repeated often among young gay men, especially when they are in unwelcoming contexts.
Instead of going to his church, the young man in the diary hopped in his car and drove to Florida to his aunt and uncle's home. She wrote the diary, and in a follow up, at her nephew's insistence, included his e-mail. I wrote him a brief supportive note last evening, and he wrote back asking a few questions.
Here's what I sent him this morning.
Hi,
I have heard many others say pretty much exactly what you've said here. The good news is ... well, the good news! The gospel is about God's love for all of creation or it's about nothing at all. As Paul wrote to the Romans,
"Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfillment of the law." Romans 13:10
So when people say hateful things or act hatefully to you in the name of God or the Bible or the church they are simply wrong. They may believe they are acting out of the best intentions, but they are wrong. They're wrong to take the Bible as more important than its message of love. They are wrong to treat you as less than a neighbor to be loved, as other than a child of God made in the image of a loving God for the sole purpose of loving and being loved.
Their Biblical interpretation skills aren't very good either. To begin with, the Bible actually says nothing at all about "homosexuality" because, in fact, the word "homosexual" did not exist in any language until the late 1800s. The writers of scripture simply had no concept of committed, same-gender relationships and thus no word for it. The handful of passages that are used to condemn homosexuality have nothing to do with what we now understand homosexuality to be -- that is to say, those passages have nothing to do with you and your sexuality, which is a gift from God.
There is a ton of Biblical study on this topic, but the best relatively short piece I've come across is actually fairly old (1980s) written by a theologian named Walter Wink. You can find it on line here. The organization whose web site is linked there is called SoulForce, and it was founded by the Rev. Mel White and his partner. Mel was raised in a conservative evangelical household and trained for ministry in the evangelical part of the church. Along the way he worked with Pat Robertson, Billy Graham, Jerry Fallwell and other conservatives pastors. Mel is a warm, wonderful, grounded Christian and could be a voice of wisdom for you. His contact information is on the bio page of the SoulForce site.
Beyond the gay-related scripture stuff, I encourage you to read the Psalms. As a straight guy (married with three kids, including a son your age), I've certainly never had to go through what you are in the midst of, but like everyone I've faced difficult times and deep pain. In those moments the poetry of the Psalms has reminded me that I'm not alone, that pain and hurt and anger are universal experiences, that though we walk sometimes through the darkest valleys and feel that enemies surround us, God is with us and God's steadfast love endures forever. The Psalms give voice to all of that, and I believe that's why Jesus quoted them on the cross -- "my God, my God, why have you foresaken me" -- and, hey, if it's good enough for Jesus!
I also highly recommend getting hold of the documentary, For the Bible Tells Me So. It is a wonderful look at the lives of several families who struggle through a child's coming out and their church's response. If you follow the link to the film's site take a look at the statement of director Daniel Karslake. My good friend, the Rev. Carol Howard Merritt, interviewed Karslake on her radio podcast, God Complex Radio, a while back and it's a good listen. The religion and faith program of the Human Rights Campaign has produced a study guide for the documentary as well. The Rev. Harry Knox, who directs HRC's faith-based outreach is friend of mine and I'm sure he'd be happy to e-chat with you as well. Harry's going to be preaching at my church in a couple of weeks. He's a warm, funny, faithful, southern, gay man who is just good fun to talk with.
I hope I'm not overloading you with this, but I'm figuring you'll use what seems useful and ignore the rest. I do hope you'll get the sense from this that there are tons of faithful Christians who love God and take scripture seriously (and seriously enough not to take it literally), who also understand that the lives of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered folks are part of God's wondrous creation and they are beloved by their Creator just as they are. Lots of such folks are, like you and me, southeners, and many grew up in pretty conservative households and churches, and have walked down the road you are traveling. So you are not alone in this, and there is a place in a loving, supportive, welcoming faith community for you.
I've written a note to my friend Michael Adee who directs the More Light Presbyterians network of congregations in my denomination working for the full inclusion and empowerment of GLBT people in the life of the church. I asked Michael for suggestions of contacts in the Tampa area, and I'm sure he will have some ideas that I'll pass along. Michael is another strong, warm, funny, faithful, southern, gay man (who also has a strange sports affliction being a die-hard Saints fan which also deeply offends the Peyton fan in me -- what is it with you people that you cannot see that God loves Tennessee more and that Rocky Top is a hymn in highest heaven!). He's also an accomplished athlete and has competed in the world Gay Games in tennis. I'm sure that Michael would also be happy to connect.
Hang in there through all of this. Keep the faith, and know, above all else, that you are beloved.
peace,
David
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
too tired ...
Sometimes it's best simply to admit that one is too pooped to post. Forty straight days of blogging is a long time, and writing today was confined to responding to the backlog of e-mails that stacked up while we were away.
I was planning to post pictures (each worth a thousand words) from the beach, but I'm going to celebrate National Procrastination Week and put it off till tomorrow.
I was planning to post pictures (each worth a thousand words) from the beach, but I'm going to celebrate National Procrastination Week and put it off till tomorrow.
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
Sounds Like Freedom
Another long day of driving just to get back where I started. It wasn't exactly an Odyssey but it was a round trip with sea creatures -- we watched a pod of dolphins swim lazily by yesterday -- and interesting locales as well.
We went inland a bit last evening to find a place to eat open on a Sunday night off season. We found a little joint nestled down on the banks of some tidal river just around the corner from Poverty Place, a road that leads directly into a trailer park. I kid you not. We left the car in the parking lot of The Place Across the Street, or so the sign said.
As sometimes happens in such out of the way places, the food was excellent and the atmosphere was rural southern. I can drawl with the finest East Tennesseans if called upon, so rural Carolinian is not much of a stretch.
Our waitress asked where we're from and we told her. She told us she was heading to Virginia to visit a friend this weekend and was looking forward to it because she'd never been before. Arlington may have seemed down right exotic to her, although I'm not sure it would be any more strange to her than the back water -- literally -- was to us.
The distance between here and there can be bridged in half a day of driving, but the gap is larger than that in ways that resist such easy measurement. On the other hand, the historical markers here and there along the way remind one of other great distances traveled in these same parts.
The signs tell of Civil War campaigns, including the final march to Appomattox. They also carry place names -- Carolina, Virginia, Plymouth, Chinquapin -- that recall the American Revolution, the colonial era, European settlements and native peoples before.
How did we get here from there? Who along the way would have predicted it? Had those who fought and died in the various wars along the way known what was to come on that ground their lives hallowed would they have thought it worth the cost of those lives?
How strange would the trailer park look to them? How strange Arlington? How strange the road between the two -- Interstate 95, and smaller routes -- and the tens of thousands of vehicles speeding along at speeds unimaginable until quite recently in the sweep of time?
The Marine base Camp Lajeune and its ancillary airfield dominate the landscape along the coast and dozens of miles inland just a couple of miles north of Poverty Place, just as Quantico stands out on I-95 a bit south of Arlington. We saw quite a few helicopters buzzing along the coast over the weekend, and a few military jets screamed overhead this morning. We passed the main gate for the airfield today. Their sign said, "Pardon our noise. It's the sound of freedom."
It sounded a bit more like empire to me, and I'm sure that's not a sound that would have rung familiar to those whose lives are suggested by the signs along the way. But the road? It sounds like freedom, and I think those who came before us would recognize that sound even when it comes from a Harley or an 18-wheeler or the family minivan.
We went inland a bit last evening to find a place to eat open on a Sunday night off season. We found a little joint nestled down on the banks of some tidal river just around the corner from Poverty Place, a road that leads directly into a trailer park. I kid you not. We left the car in the parking lot of The Place Across the Street, or so the sign said.
As sometimes happens in such out of the way places, the food was excellent and the atmosphere was rural southern. I can drawl with the finest East Tennesseans if called upon, so rural Carolinian is not much of a stretch.
Our waitress asked where we're from and we told her. She told us she was heading to Virginia to visit a friend this weekend and was looking forward to it because she'd never been before. Arlington may have seemed down right exotic to her, although I'm not sure it would be any more strange to her than the back water -- literally -- was to us.
The distance between here and there can be bridged in half a day of driving, but the gap is larger than that in ways that resist such easy measurement. On the other hand, the historical markers here and there along the way remind one of other great distances traveled in these same parts.
The signs tell of Civil War campaigns, including the final march to Appomattox. They also carry place names -- Carolina, Virginia, Plymouth, Chinquapin -- that recall the American Revolution, the colonial era, European settlements and native peoples before.
How did we get here from there? Who along the way would have predicted it? Had those who fought and died in the various wars along the way known what was to come on that ground their lives hallowed would they have thought it worth the cost of those lives?
How strange would the trailer park look to them? How strange Arlington? How strange the road between the two -- Interstate 95, and smaller routes -- and the tens of thousands of vehicles speeding along at speeds unimaginable until quite recently in the sweep of time?
The Marine base Camp Lajeune and its ancillary airfield dominate the landscape along the coast and dozens of miles inland just a couple of miles north of Poverty Place, just as Quantico stands out on I-95 a bit south of Arlington. We saw quite a few helicopters buzzing along the coast over the weekend, and a few military jets screamed overhead this morning. We passed the main gate for the airfield today. Their sign said, "Pardon our noise. It's the sound of freedom."
It sounded a bit more like empire to me, and I'm sure that's not a sound that would have rung familiar to those whose lives are suggested by the signs along the way. But the road? It sounds like freedom, and I think those who came before us would recognize that sound even when it comes from a Harley or an 18-wheeler or the family minivan.
Monday, March 01, 2010
Coffee or Tea?
So now we have a Coffee Party to oppose the Tea Party.
I wonder if this is the next stage in the virtual reshaping of politics and the political sphere that internet theorists predicted 20 years ago. Is social networking becoming a political force beyond being used by the existing political parties and candidates and commercial/political interests?
It's far too soon to tell, especially considering that there's evidence that the Tea Party movement has had considerable corporate push behind its self-professed grass roots populism.
It seems that the Coffee Party, for now, is a spontaneous Facebook phenomenon with no discernible ties to the Democratic Party or to corporate funds.
If that turns out to be the case, and -- a much bigger if -- if the Coffee Party exerts any actual influence on political decision making, then it might be something new under the virtual sun.
Of course, the names of these countering movements indicate their deep roots in American political history, and it is no surprise that the party of tea is the conservative one while the party of coffee is progressive. After all, coffee became the American drink of choice when tea became associated with the British and with Tories -- the conservatives of their age. While contemporary Tea Partiers want to associate themselves with the instigators of the American Revolution, the name they have laid claim to suggests that perhaps they would have been aligned with King George.
Time will tell if the Coffee Party amounts to anything more than a blip, but if it does, perhaps the choice of coffee will come to mean more than merely an alternative to tea. At the very least, the option of mochas could well underscore more racial diversity in the Coffee Party than appears evident in most pictures from Tea Party events.
On the other hand, a cursory look at the Coffee Party Facebook friends list suggests that it's fairly monochrome thus far, as well. Which may simply be because Facebook is among the "stuff that white people like."
I wonder if this is the next stage in the virtual reshaping of politics and the political sphere that internet theorists predicted 20 years ago. Is social networking becoming a political force beyond being used by the existing political parties and candidates and commercial/political interests?
It's far too soon to tell, especially considering that there's evidence that the Tea Party movement has had considerable corporate push behind its self-professed grass roots populism.
It seems that the Coffee Party, for now, is a spontaneous Facebook phenomenon with no discernible ties to the Democratic Party or to corporate funds.
If that turns out to be the case, and -- a much bigger if -- if the Coffee Party exerts any actual influence on political decision making, then it might be something new under the virtual sun.
Of course, the names of these countering movements indicate their deep roots in American political history, and it is no surprise that the party of tea is the conservative one while the party of coffee is progressive. After all, coffee became the American drink of choice when tea became associated with the British and with Tories -- the conservatives of their age. While contemporary Tea Partiers want to associate themselves with the instigators of the American Revolution, the name they have laid claim to suggests that perhaps they would have been aligned with King George.
Time will tell if the Coffee Party amounts to anything more than a blip, but if it does, perhaps the choice of coffee will come to mean more than merely an alternative to tea. At the very least, the option of mochas could well underscore more racial diversity in the Coffee Party than appears evident in most pictures from Tea Party events.
On the other hand, a cursory look at the Coffee Party Facebook friends list suggests that it's fairly monochrome thus far, as well. Which may simply be because Facebook is among the "stuff that white people like."
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Oh, Canada
I'm not hockey fan, but watching the gold medal game between the U.S. and Canada this afternoon was about as much fun as I've had watching a sporting event in a long time.
Watching sports is an interesting phenomenon. I've been a sports fan all of my life, and can appreciate competition in most games even if I've never played the game.
Like hockey.
I can't even stand up on skates, much less try to accomplish anything remotely athletic on them. I can, however, appreciate the skill of the players and the thrill of the game. Not being a hockey fanatic, I could cheer for the U.S. of A., but not be invested in it like it seems all of Canada is. Had the Canadians lost that game winter might never have lifted from the great white north.
Playing a game is still more fun than watching one, although time and aging joints may change that perspective some day. For now, I'd rather play basketball than watch it -- even March Madness or the NBA finals. I'd rather run my three miles slowly than watch the Olympic 5,000 meter finals. I'd rather hit a golf ball into a pond than watch a professional strike one with precision.
But that was one hell of a hockey game.
Watching sports is an interesting phenomenon. I've been a sports fan all of my life, and can appreciate competition in most games even if I've never played the game.
Like hockey.
I can't even stand up on skates, much less try to accomplish anything remotely athletic on them. I can, however, appreciate the skill of the players and the thrill of the game. Not being a hockey fanatic, I could cheer for the U.S. of A., but not be invested in it like it seems all of Canada is. Had the Canadians lost that game winter might never have lifted from the great white north.
Playing a game is still more fun than watching one, although time and aging joints may change that perspective some day. For now, I'd rather play basketball than watch it -- even March Madness or the NBA finals. I'd rather run my three miles slowly than watch the Olympic 5,000 meter finals. I'd rather hit a golf ball into a pond than watch a professional strike one with precision.
But that was one hell of a hockey game.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Lenten Hymn
THIS IS THE FAST
Is this the fast I choose for thee
Of ashes, tears and empty misery?
Or rather this: To share abundant bread
That all my children will be loved and fed.
Why do you fast, yet still not see
Your sisters suffering in poverty?
Their children cry, and still you do not hear;
Their fathers bowed and broken by their fear.
This is the fast I choose for thee
Of justice, peace and human liberty
Not forty days, but all your yearning years
My love will wipe away all human tears.
Break, bless and eat; then drink this wine
The fast I choose makes ev’ry midnight shine
You shall be called restorers of the streets.
Arise, now shine! And make your fast complete.
TUNE: Truro (Live Into Hope!; Christ is Alive!; Lift Up Your Heads, Ye Mighty Gates)
Is this the fast I choose for thee
Of ashes, tears and empty misery?
Or rather this: To share abundant bread
That all my children will be loved and fed.
Why do you fast, yet still not see
Your sisters suffering in poverty?
Their children cry, and still you do not hear;
Their fathers bowed and broken by their fear.
This is the fast I choose for thee
Of justice, peace and human liberty
Not forty days, but all your yearning years
My love will wipe away all human tears.
Break, bless and eat; then drink this wine
The fast I choose makes ev’ry midnight shine
You shall be called restorers of the streets.
Arise, now shine! And make your fast complete.
TUNE: Truro (Live Into Hope!; Christ is Alive!; Lift Up Your Heads, Ye Mighty Gates)
Friday, February 26, 2010
Sometime a Day Off Happens
Trying to do anything beyond bodily necessities for 40 consecutive days is tough. Writing is not a bodily necessity, and it does take time no matter how much or little one does.
I've been on the road all day. Though I enjoy it, driving is rather mind numbing and it's tough to write with a numb mind! I'm sure I've written at least parts of sermons -- if not the whole of some -- in that condition.
So when a day off happens I'll just take it and not try to wake up the brain this evening. Instead, I'll enjoy watching Olympic athletes who have undoubtedly practiced when their bodies and brains were numb.
I make no claims for being a medal-winning writer.
I've been on the road all day. Though I enjoy it, driving is rather mind numbing and it's tough to write with a numb mind! I'm sure I've written at least parts of sermons -- if not the whole of some -- in that condition.
So when a day off happens I'll just take it and not try to wake up the brain this evening. Instead, I'll enjoy watching Olympic athletes who have undoubtedly practiced when their bodies and brains were numb.
I make no claims for being a medal-winning writer.
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