Life: Apply Liberally

Pastor Ellen's blog about life these days

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Tuesday, November 23, 2004

My Apologies To Squash Lovers......

THANKSGIVING STORY (from Mikey's Funnies):
In a few days all America will be celebrating the holiday of Thanksgiving, or as it is known outside the United States, "Thursday."
Families separated for months or years will reunite, and shortly afterwards remember why they separated. In a darkened gymnasium Richard Simmons will run his revenue projections, and consider buying a small Caribbean island. Throughout the nation, those wretched souls condemned to the public school system will breathe a bit easier, eager in their anticipation of four days surcease from education. (The students are pretty happy about it, too.)
Yet running through this gaiety is an undercurrent of bewilderment. In this decadent age we live in, far too many of our unlettered countrymen think Plymouth Rock a music style from the 70's, or the Mayflower a potpourri ingredient. Accordingly, in the best traditions of journalistic public service and overweening arrogance, my column this frosty morn shall be dedicated to answering your questions about Thanksgiving.
Q. Gosh, you're right, I, the average reader, am dumb as a post. What exactly are the origins of Thanksgiving?
A. Thanksgiving is, of course, a holiday invented by grocers and farmers to allow them to sell huge quantities of disgusting "traditional" foods that no one in his right mind would eat otherwise, such as squash. The average squash is a triumph of minimalism wherein Nature manages to convert mud into a plant without bothering to change its taste and texture. Attempts to improve the mud-like flavor of squash by the addition of delicate seasonings and spices have produced dishes that taste, at best, like delicately seasoned and spiced mud. A master chef, faced with the necessity of making a palatable squash dish, would throw in his funny hat and become a short-order cook at Denny's.
Q. That's quite a conspiracy theory. Where do the Black Helicopters fit it?
A. They transport the squash.
Q. I should have guessed. But seriously, what are the origins of Thanksgiving?
A. The first Thanksgiving was a celebration of gratitude by a group of early English settlers known as the Pilgrims. The Pilgrims were Separatists who had come to the New World to practice their religion without government interference, and since the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms did not exist at the time they were allowed to do so.Unfortunately, the Pilgrims neglected to acquire a few skills (such as elementary agronomy) before setting off on their voyage, and as result nearly starved. The local Indians, who at the time were practicing their ancient sustenance methods of hunting and fishing, took pity on the Pilgrims and taught them to farm the native flora. In a display of appreciation, when the first harvest was taken in the Pilgrims held a huge feast and invited the Indians over for dinner, after which they all fell asleep on couches while watching football.
Q. OK, but when did Thanksgiving become a national holiday?
A. Thanksgiving Day was adopted as an annual holiday by New York State in 1817, marking the first official celebration of Thanksgiving as a regular event, and the last time a New Yorker said "thank you" for anything. In 1863, President Lincoln appointed a national day of thanksgiving, and every subsequent president has followed suit.
Q. Speaking of turkeys, is it true that Ben Franklin thought the turkey should have been our national bird instead of the eagle?
A. Ben Franklin was indeed a proponent of the turkey as our national bird. Since he was a member of the Hellfire Club at the time, though, his motives were somewhat suspect.It must be kept in mind that the modern domestic turkey bears little resemblance to its feral ancestors. The wild turkey is a cunning and elusive survivor, a challenging quarry for the most skilled of hunters. Farm turkeys, on the other hand, have been selectively inbred for generations in an attempt to improve flavor and increase breast meat production. These efforts have had numerous side effects on the birds in question, including reduced intelligence, difficulty in maintaining balance, and the creation of the Spice Girls.
Q. Is there a final message you would like to give to your readers on this Thanksgiving Day?
A. Enjoy your Thanksgiving dinner. You can have my squash.

Sunday, November 14, 2004

One Man's "Good News" Is Another Man's "Worst Nightmare"

In light of an apparent power surge on behalf of evangelical Christianity in the United States, Gina b at Mom-Blog has a lot of questions, even doubts. Me, too.
It seems that a lot of us who have identified ourselves as Christians are feeling "out of the loop." Why?
Because the radical judgmentalism, provincialism, and plain-out mean-ism that seems to be emanating from the "right" has little to no resemblance to the message of Christ we so deeply love and desperately need now, more than ever.
Isn't it odd? We call ourselves a Christian country, we have a national leader who eschews all things Christian, we have a majority of people in the nation (okay, maybe a majority) who claim that Christian values are all the stuff. Why am I so uncomfortable?
In a word: Incongruence.
The pieces of this puzzle just don't come together to make a pretty picture. And I keep thinking about this guy, Jesus, who had been anticipated for so long by so many. The prophets spoke of his coming for generations. The leaders of the synagogue expected him to arrive and fix everything. The people prayed for his arrival to set things right. And when he came.....they didn't recognize him.
Why?
Because they had already seen him....in their minds. And this guy who was born in a manger under questionable circumstances and parented by blue collar working class folks just didn't look like the guy they had imagined.
This guy hung out with poor people and sinners. Their guy hung out with the leaders of the synagogue.
This guy didn't even own a house. Their guy had a palace.
This guy preached love and forgiveness and pacifism. Their guy had an army and used it.
This guy talked about a kingdom that would come peacefully. Their guy was gonna kick some Roman butt and inaugurate a kingdom of power.
No wonder they didn't recognize him.
To add insult to injury, the only people this guy really went after were the leaders in their church (aka synagogue). He didn't go after the tax collectors who ripped them off or the prostitutes and lepers who brought down property values in the neighborhood. He even chatted casually with Samaritans.....long-known as "persons of interest," if you catch my drift.
What this guy called "good news" sounded more likes secular humanism or a social welfare agenda or a right-wing cult. God forbid he should become influential.....he could upset the political apple cart of Palestine, his ideas could put an end to our socio-economic system, his theology could cost a lot of bureaucratic Levites their jobs!
Let's kill him!
And they did.
But this guy--this Jesus--said something really profound about those people then and these people now...."Not everyone who says 'Lord, Lord' are of the Kingdom." And I believe with all my heart that that is NOT good news. It's horrible news. But it's truth.
Because this guy--this Jesus--knew then what some modern theologian since declared: "In the beginning God created man in His image, and man has been returning the favor ever since."
It seems to me that the image of God of 21st century values, God of 21st century morals, God of 21st century politics is created by a backlash of fear and uncertainty in the face of accelerated social change rising from, but not limited to: a redefinition of the family, convolution of the news by media in order to win ratings wars, technological explosions opening the way to a brave new world, and a rapidly encroaching globalism which threatens long-held ideas of nationalistic boundaries.
Looking forward, the world is a scary unknown. Looking behind, the world seemed safe.
We'll take safe. And of course, God agrees. Image is everything.
So we'll elect people who we are sure God agrees with and oust heretics like Arlen Specter.
And all the while this guy--this Jesus--is sitting on the hill watching and weeping, saying, "O America, how often I have longed to gather your people up as a hen gathers her chicks....but you are not willing."
"Willing? America is not willing? What does it mean, then, to be WILLING????"
Simple, but not easy.
Jesus inaugurated his ministry by going to the temple and reading from the Torah. It was an awesome event because he picked up the scroll and read words from Isaiah announcing a time of "jubilee"....a concept everyone in the room that day would have understood.
He read: "The Spirit of the Lord is on me because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom to the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."
No army, no war, no palace, no overthrowing the government.
"Peace on earth, goodwill to man." That's what the angels said when he was born.
It wasn't a cute slogan to be printed on Christmas cards years later.
It was an order. "Do it!" the angels proclaimed.
When I consider all this and put it up against the agenda of today's Christian right, I find they are very wrong. They have missed the whole point just like the religious people who hung Jesus on the cross.
So, Gina, if you are feeling like you aren't fitting in, like your idea of following Christ doesn't match up, like their circle isn't a circle you can't stand in.....it's okay. You are probably closer to God at this moment than any of us because you are so honestly and earnestly seeking Him.
He has a message for you.
"Draw near to me and I will draw near to you."

Monday, November 08, 2004

It's A Small World After All

I have a little boxer named Max. Max went to obedience school and learned people rules for appropriate dog behavior. She sits, lays, heels, and stands at the door to signal when she needs to go out to pee. She doesn’t nudge, lick, or hump my guests. She doesn’t bark at our mail lady, garbage man, or every little bump in the night. Max is a good dog.
Max has a crate to sleep in. The trainer said it is a house training tool. A dog won’t soil where it sleeps.
Here’s the deal….the crate is for night. The rest of the day Max has the run of the house. She can go wherever she wants—outside, inside, upstairs, downstairs, living room, laundry room—where ever she wants!
Guess where she spends her day. The crate.
I guess she just feels safe and secure in that little space. Her life is defined there, it is predictable. There are no surprises in the crate.
Observing Max’s preference for life “in the box” has given me great insight into a certain human “type.” A kind of person who seeks, creates, pretty much requires life “in the box” because a box is safe.
A box defines what and who is good and bad, right and wrong, in and out.
A box is comforting. It sets parameters of predictability and security for one’s world. Inside the box is okay. Outside the box is not okay.
Politics, education, employment, recreation, relationships, intellectual pursuit, religion, normality, even sanity or lack thereof are ordained by the four walls of the box.
I believe that this kind of person knows there’s a whole world out there, a world of infinite experience and mind-blowing possibility, but it just doesn’t matter.
The good life, the right life, the surpriseless life is in the box.
It looks to me like we will all be spending another four years with a president elected by this type of person.
Somebody should be sure he knows not to soil where we sleep.

Thursday, November 04, 2004

If You Can't Say Something Nice, Say Something Good

Many of us in America over the age of 30 share a common shame, that of not handling the whole Viet Nam experience well. It was a time of huge social unrest. Paradigms weren’t shifting, they were being body slammed by a new reality that leadership and morality were not necessarily mutually inclusive. And as soldiers were returning from Viet Nam, Americans found that it was enormously difficult to separate the bad taste the war and its proponents had put in our mouths from those who had served there.
This was wrong.
In the context of the sixties, many a young man who enlisted to defend his country still heard the echo of James Cagney singing “I’m A Yankee Doodle Dandy” while envisioning a photographer from Life Magazine snap the shutter just as he kisses a nurse “hello” on Victory in Viet Nam Day while ticker tape rains down and crowds cheer in admiration and gratitude.
That day never came.
Instead, soldiers were jeered at and attacked by anti-war demonstrators. They were called horrible names and accused of atrocities previously not discussed in civilized conversation in order to protect children and “the gentler sex.”
The title “hero” never came to most who served in Viet Nam and to add injury to injury….many returned with broken bodies and minds and were not given the care they so desperately needed.
This was wrong.
We know it and we wish we had handled it all better.
Which brings me to my point.
We are compounding our “bad” by allowing our corporate shame to shape American reaction to Iraq in 2004. We are so determined to “handle it better” that we are enduring, rationalizing, actually overlooking travesties of leadership, political manipulation, and documented dishonesty from our nation’s highest office.
And here's the lie that allows the lie: To do anything less would be to suggest that these brave people offered up life and limb for nothing.
How do you face the mother, father, spouse, child, or friend of a fallen soldier with that message? How do you even suggest it to a man or woman, husband or wife, son or daughter who is returning from that hell hole forever scarred by the sights and sounds of battle?
Based on the Viet Nam debacle, we dare not insult our country’s defenders. And so we hold our silence.
Our mothers’ voices collectively echo in our ears: “If you can’t say something nice, say nothing at all.”

This is so wrong.

Our “saying nothing” is shouting a message we will regret as deeply as we do our post-Viet Nam screw-ups.
We have been given the impression that our patriotism is directly linked to our approval of this war and our approval of this war is directly linked to our approval of those who are fighting it.
This is “fuzzy thinking” and it enslaves us in a haze of inaction.
I remind you that it is truth that will set us free.
Embracing the truth of unnecessary sacrifice could take us to a new day, a day in which those who have given up so much for so little would be shored up by the previously zip-lipped masses and together get really pissed off….pissed off enough to assume a new paradigm which says,
“There IS meaning to the sacrifices of time and family and innocence and life but it’s not the meaning assigned to them by the powers that are. The blood of our brothers and sisters cries out to us from the ground to say ‘No more, no more! Our sons and daughters will not be the currency of a war waged for opportunity, power, and the almighty dollar!’ One by one the lives of our soldiers count and they matter and they add up to one word and only one: 'ENOUGH!'”

(Capitol) Crime and (Capital) Punishment

"Ex-governor serves self-imposed ‘life sentence’ to end death penalty"
Hmmm.....a politician with a conscience. How's that workin' for ya? Check it out at: http://www.umc.org/interior.asp?ptid=2&mid=5940
(UM News Service)

Healthcare: Separate And Unequal

Health Care Satisfaction (reprint from WebMD):
A five-nation survey revealed that Americans are more dissatisfied with the quality of health care than are other industrialized nations.

Among the findings:

One-quarter of Americans paid more than $1,000 in out-of-
pocket expenses last year.
Four in 10 adults have gone without needed health care because of cost.
One third say the health care system needs to be rebuilt.
While America spends the most on health care, U.S. citizens report greater difficulty receiving care and longer wait times. Do you get what you pay for? Take a closer look.

Hope Sticks

On 9/11/01 I, like many others, went directly to my storage closet, took out my American flag and hung it in my front yard. I did this as an act of solidarity with my brothers and sisters who were so horrified by the scenes of buildings toppled and human beings suddenly struck down. I did this to say to the survivors and those who had lost loved ones "I share your pain." I did this in utter ignorance of what was to come.
I took that flag down just a few days later and have not hung it since.
First and foremost, because I understand my citizenship in a greater Kingdom, one that does not respect borders and bureaucracies, principalities and powers. A Kingdom with no flag, but a banner...the banner of peace.
And I took that flag down because I did not want to be identified with an administration that so shamelessly marked itself by its agenda. An agenda of acquisition, domination, isolation, and corporation. I wanted no part with men and women who chose to build their kingdom via the exploitation of a flag stained by the blood of 9/11's victims.
And I, like many others, suffered the presence of this administration and its puppet king enjoying one illuminating hope: he will not be re-elected.
My husband and I were moved to tears of patriotism for the first time in a long time by the words of John Kerry as he brilliantly declared that "faith without works is dead." And again, we wept as we cheered with 17,000 others in Las Cruces, New Mexico at a Kerry rally. We wept a third time as we stood in a crowd made up of Native Americans, Hispanics, African Americans, whites, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, neighbors, friends and strangers in Taos, New Mexico singing "Give Peace A Chance."
Hope springs eternal....or at least until November 3.
I, like many others, met the post-election dawn with feelings of grief, disbelief, and dread. I did not turn on the TV or the computer or the radio. I had no desire to see the face or hear the voice of the man who would be king yet again.
Sometime that afternoon I went to the sink to wash my face and saw the round Kerry/Edwards sticker that I had taken from my shirt after the Las Cruces rally and pasted to the mirror optimistically believing it to be a talisman of hope, hope that had now been dashed against the rocks by 51% of my fellow Americans.
In anger I ripped the sticker from the mirror, wadded it up, tossed it to the floor, and left the room.
Only later did I notice that not all the sticker had peeled away. Part of it remained and still does today.
And that little piece of the sticker shouts at me that my hope was not and is not a gutless sensation easily cast aside, cheaply sold, or malevolently stolen. Hope is a light and it calls us to move from a place of mortification to a place of expectancy. In so doing, we move.
Having moved, we can not go back. We can not find the exact place we once stood. We are forever changed.
And having thus changed, a little piece of that hope sticks. It remains. And it is the yeast that will work in the hopeful of our country to give rise to a revolution that is much needed and long overdue.
I am sickened by the message of healing that comes from the agent of the disease. I am wary of the olive branch extended in the name of American unity. I am horrified at the perversion of God's Name in the mouth of one who proclaims war just.
But more than anything, I am hopeful for the stirring I feel in the guts of our country. A stirring that will not lay down, sit down, or be voted down.
In all of the rhetoric-shouting and speech-making and futuristic-idealizing I caught a glimpse of a better world, a world for which I am not only hopeful but to which I am committed.
So today I will go to my closet, take out my flag, and I will hang it from its pole upside down, as a sign of national distress.I will keep it there to denote my personal belief that we can do better. In the greatest country, the richest country, the most educated country on planet earth.... we can and must do better!