Category Archives: Religion

The Religious Freedom Shell Game

All About Me, Culture, Politics, Politics & Culture, Religion, Uncategorized

As much as I hesitate to do it, I’m going to weigh in on the current Indiana Religious Freedom Restoration Act controversy. I can’t help myself. I’ve wracked my brain, and can’t think of anything else to do to help me continue avoiding doing my homework. Besides, everyone else has, and it’s lonely out here. And kind of creepy, really. I feel like everybody’s looking at me, which is weird, because normally I’m pretty sure nobody cares at all what I think (which is probably the case here as well, but my inner narcissist is feeling saucy).

It’s also kind of weird because as a White, heterosexual, middle-aged, middle-class, male christian, whose only first-hand experience with religious persecution has been the waiting-for-the-punchline looks I frequently get from people when I say that I’m a Christian (you’ll note that I didn’t say I’m a good one. Honestly, I’m not sure there even is such a thing), I am undoubtedly one of the people who has the least to fear from this law. Seriously, I’m safely part of the demographic power majority in pretty much every category (and it’s pretty sweet, I can tell you). At any rate, I kind of feel like, since I’m safe, maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and ride it out (and if you’ve read this far, you’re probably thinking the same thing).

But enough about me. And I think that’s the problem. I think there is a very strong possibility that this is an intentionally planned nontroversy to keep everyone’s eyes off the shell that actually has the bean under it.

Let’s face it. Everybody thinks this bill is about them. Thanks to this law, religious bakers, florists, photographers, and other purveyors of wedding support services (because those are the only types I’ve heard held up as examples) can now feel safe from being forced to bake a gay wedding cake, make gay bouquets, take gay pictures*, or anything else that goes against their strongly held religious beliefs. They no longer have to worry about the hordes of litigious gays lining up to force them to ruin their gay wedding, although honestly, that just sounds like a way to spend a lot of money on lawyers to end up with spit cake, dead flowers, and bad pictures on your gay wedding day. I’m not saying it doesn’t happen, I’m just saying it doesn’t happen very often.

From the gay side of things, I can totally understand the concern. Right wing whack-a-do’s like Ted Cruz and Rick Santorum are coming out in support of the law, and that fact alone is enough to convince me that it’s a bad thing. Reading the law, it seems like businesses now have, at the very least, a legally protected way to discriminate against, and screw their employees (like they even need that in a “right to work state”). I also have no doubt that there are some few business owners out there who will use this law to discriminate against the LGBT community. I’ve never understood what religion has to do with civil rights. As I understand the constitution, we all have the same civil rights, in spite of our personal beliefs, not because of them.

I am kind of saddened though by the number of friends of mine, both gay and straight, who seem to be coming down very firmly on the “Fuck Indiana” side, because, just like the hordes of litigious gays, I’m pretty sure the number of religious business owners who can’t wait to refuse service to a gay person is largely imaginary. And, if it’s not, then that company will pretty much be signing its own death warrant, especially a small company.

I’ve been seeing a lot of stuff about how Mike Pence, the legislature, and the GOP didn’t expect this much backlash. I think that’s wrong. I think that not only did they expect it, they counted on it. I mean, for cryin’ out loud, the day after Pence signed the bill, the Indianapolis Star had a story on him signing the bill in a secret session. Some secret. Apparently, that’s one more word we need to add to the list of words that lawmakers don’t understand.**

I think this is an example of legislation at its best, from a public relations point of view. Everybody wins! The conservatives get to pander to the conservative Christians. The liberals get to pander to the LGBT community. Businesses and organizations as disparate as Apple, the NCAA,  Gen Con, and others get to look like heroes for loudly and proudly opposing the bill. People like me (see paragraph 2 above) get to choose; we can feel persecuted for our beliefs (Just like Jesus!), or we can take door number two and feel good about ourselves for being so loving and understanding of gays (Just like Jesus!). And the best part is, we get to pick in what way we’re Just like Jesus! (Seriously, it’s good to be us.)

The LGBT community gets to feel good about themselves because of the tremendous outpouring of support they’ve received from people, businesses, and organizations, and that’s got to feel extra good after being genuinely persecuted, ostracized, and frequently killed right here in the Good Ol’ U.S. of A,*** although really, that’s more of a consolation prize, kind of like receiving the home version after finishing 2nd on a game show (I never said everybody wins big).

The media get something to cry and/or scream about in their on-going 24/7 quest to completely polarize the nation for fun and profit, and the Internet comment trolls get lots of ammo for their ridiculous little flame wars. Like I said, everybody wins (sort of).

The thing of it is, I just don’t think that the bill’s intent really has anything to do with legalizing discrimination on religious grounds (although I’m pretty sure that the GOP would see that as a side benefit). I’m guessing that nobody in the legislature cares which side of the wedding cake you’re on, whether you’re the one spitting in the cake mix, or the one forcing someone to make your cake. I feel pretty confident that you don’t matter much to them at all.****

I look at it this way. We’ve already got that Bill of Rights, First Amendment, Freedom of Religion thing, right there in the Constitution, right? So what does this new law do that the first amendment doesn’t do? It specifically protects BUSINESSES from Government and Individuals. I think that the main point of this bill is to make sure that businesses, and particularly big businesses (like Hobby Lobby for example) have another legal basis for . . . well really, doing any damned thing they want, or avoiding having to do something they don’t want. Sort of a legal loophole, like a tax code loophole, only with lawyers instead of accountants. It also prevents individuals, specifically applicants, employees and former employees from being able to sue employers.

Mike Pence is already calling for an amendment to the bill to make sure it’s clear that business owners can’t discriminate in providing services, so how serious could he really have been about your cake? He doesn’t care about your cake, and neither does anybody else but you. What lawmakers care about is business, and businesses certainly care about the law. They have to. They’re the only ones who can afford it these days.

One bit of supportive evidence for this is from Gen Con.’s open letter protesting this stupid and pointless law. They, just like Mike Pence, ask for an amendment to the new law. If the new law is so offensive, why not demand it’s repeal? That would seem to be the sensible thing to do. You can’t abuse a law that doesn’t exist.

Ultimately, I think it’ll all come out in the wash. They’ll come out with some vaguely worded amendment that won’t satisfy detractors, but damp the fires enough to get the media to move on. Pence, Cruz, Bush, etc. will use it to garner support for Presidential runs, as will Clinton and Warren. Christians will still be left uneasy enough to fear persecution, gays will feel slightly mollified that people stood up for them. People won’t be forced to bake gay wedding cakes against their will, not because of government persecution, but because gays (at least most of them) aren’t stupid enough to go to a homophobic baker. There won’t be unusually large amounts of spit in the gay wedding cake, not because of an amendment prohibiting it, but because Indiana bakers (at least most of them) aren’t homophobic assholes in the first place. And businesses will walk away with a smile on their faces from being elevated one more step above the individual (gay or straight), at least legally, without any of the fuss that accompanied Citizen’s United.

The real question, for me anyway, is why, after so many years of being lied to and manipulated by government, business, and church, are we all still such easy marks?

One final note. This is all just my opinion. I have not meant to offend, belittle or demean anyone (well, except politicians, business, and what I believe to be an actually very small portion of Christian believers). If I did offend you, and you fall outside the parenthetical parameters previously stated, I apologize. Also, the very strong possibility exists that I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. I feel no particular shame about this, as I’m pretty sure that keeps me in the majority (always go with the numbers). But, just in case you care enough to prove that I’m full of crap, here’s a link to the actual law: https://iga.in.gov/legislative/2015/bills/senate/101#

There is every possibility that you will be much better at deciphering the legaleze than I am. Please feel free to let me know if I’m wrong.

 

* Warning: unlike the other examples of both purveyors and products, that last one is a real thing. Trust me, Don’t Google it.

** Where it will be in good company with words, concepts, and phrases like: integrity, decency, cooperation, ethics, honesty, and put your dick away

*** As opposed to American Christians who have to travel to some really unpleasant places overseas in order to be properly persecuted, and let’s face it, who has that kind of time? We’re all too busy thinking of ways to avoid accidentally endorsing somebody else’s lifestyle.

**** If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure I don’t matter to them either, and as a member of the power demographic, that really kind of hurts.

 

Bah, Humbug: A Christmas Rant Just For You

All About Me, Culture, Home Life, Politics & Culture, Religion, Wives

Ok, I’ll admit it: I’ve had it with Christmas this year. I just can’t get into the spirit of things. I tried. I really did. I helped the wonderfully naughty and divinely nice Jess put up the tree and the lights on the house. I went Christmas shopping for the Grandkids, and felt like we got them some pretty cool stuff that was both inexpensive and useful/practical/fun.

Then I went shopping for Jess, and things just nosedived. I found what she had asked for pretty quickly, but I also always try to get her something as a surprise. Nothing expensive, just something not mass-produced, or at least not in this century. Every store I went to to try to find her something special or cool and unusual/unexpected this year was closed. That was disappointing.

I also had to get something for our family White Elephant gift exchange. I thought I’d go to the local “bookstore”, because they’ve got a lot of different stuff, and I thought I should be able to find something suitably stupid/funny. Wrong. First of all, I don’t think it really qualifies as a bookstore anymore. There are hardly any books, and of the books there are, 75 % of them are kid’s books, or “young adult” books. “Young adult”. Who are they kidding? Although it is a much nicer term than “basically grown-up and functionally illiterate, but still thinks carrying a book around will make them look smart”.

They do usually have a pretty good selection of novelty items (cheap, stupid junk that’s good for at least a half-hearted laugh), but not this year. Not unless you’re in the market for a Dr. Who action figure, or even worse, a Game of Thrones action figure (at least Dr. Who has been around for 40 or 50 years). It left me wondering, who do they sell this crap to? Who would want it? Let’s face it, if you’re old enough to watch Game of Thrones, then your action figure days really should be behind you. Way behind you.

Then of course, my guts went sideways on me. You know the feeling. You’re standing there, minding your own business, and suddenly it feels like giant hands are twisting your guts into balloon animals at the world’s worst children’s party. Somehow, this always happens to me when I’m in a bookstore, I’m not sure why. I think it’s just the smell of the books. It gets me all excited I guess. The only thing surprising about all this is that there are still enough real books in the place to get to me. Anyway, I head for the bathroom in that tense, walking-from-the-knees-down-only, whole body clinch (don’t try to deny it, you know what I’m talking about), and when I get there, what do I find? No seat. Seriously. It was deeply, deeply disappointing to say the least.

Now, I don’t have particularly high standards when it comes to bathrooms. I’m not overly finicky, but I do have some minimal expectations. Enough toilet paper, some perfunctory attempt at cleanliness, and a seat. That’s all I ask. The door doesn’t have to latch, I can hold it shut. The seat doesn’t even have to be bolted down securely. I prefer it to be, of course, but I can deal with some swivel in the seat. But there does have to be a seat. Now I’ll admit that I’ve gone into bathrooms that didn’t even have a toilet, just a hole in the floor, with a ceramic footprint on either side of it, but that was in places like Turkey and Kuwait, and it’s a matter of culture, not basic maintenance. At least those were clean.

This was no matter of culture . . . or was it? You know what? I’ll save that rant for another day. Suffice to say that thanks to an act of will perhaps unparallelled in modern times, I managed to duck-walk my way to the parking lot, climbed into my way-too-tall pickup, carefully worked the clutch and standard transmission all the way home, climbed down from my still way-too-tall truck, got into the house, ran the gauntlet of dogs, and made it to my own fully functioning bathroom without befouling myself. That turned out to be the highlight of my day. A little bit later, I went out to get the mail, and what to my wondering eyes should appear? A membership application from AARP.

Honestly, I think Christmas started going south on me a couple of weeks ago when I joined the choir at church. I’m not much of a singer, although I can do a pretty good Neil Young or Tom Petty, but they said they needed help, so I said why not. Now I wake up every morning with those horrible songs running through my head. In case you hadn’t guessed, I really don’t care much for religious music, much less religious Christmas music. It always just seems kind of vapid and fake. All that silent night, no crying, Mary smiling sweetly, Joseph looking on in wonder, Wise Men, solemn shepherds, everything just so . . . precious.

Think about it. Mary had just arrived in Bethlehem after walking, or at best, riding a donkey who knows how far in the extremely late stages of pregnancy. Think about how miserable women today are on a car ride to the hospital to give birth. Imagine if you asked one of them to give birth in a stable, with no drugs, no doctor, just her, Joseph, and maybe a bale or two of hay. There would not be a lot of sweet smiling going on. Not to mention the practical side of a virgin birth. Sure, it sounds wonderful to us, but how would you like to try squeezing a kid out through an intact hymen? Yikes. And then 3 weird rich guys turn up bearing gifts. The gold and the frankincense would be ok, but myrrh was used in funeral preparations. How would you like it if someone brought a coffin to your baby shower?

I think about Joseph, and I think; that poor guy. It’s tough enough for anybody to be a Step-Father, let alone Step-Father when God is the Baby Daddy. Talk about pressure. If he screws this kid up, he’s not going to end up in court. Plus he’s got all the neighbors whispering and giggling (you know they did, and you know we would too), and gossiping. How’s he going to discipline this kid. When this kid says, “You’re not the boss of me,” he’s right. Look closely at your Nativity set. Joseph’s not looking on in wonder, he’s catatonic with shock.

Now, I know some of you are saying that it wasn’t like that, it was just like in Silent Night. God could make it nice, and sweet, and painless, and wonderful. He’s God, he can do anything he wants. My response to that is why would he. God never pulled his punches on any of his other chosen people. He never even held back suffering from his own son.

When we think of all the heroes of the bible, we think of suffering. John and Paul in prison, Peter being crucified, Stephen being stoned (and not in a good way), and most of all, Jesus on the cross, suffering for all of us. It seems to me that maybe by sanitizing and preciousizing Christ’s birth, we do Mary and Joseph an injustice. That maybe we minimize and marginalize their roles, the roles that God chose them for. Because they did have to be very special people. Very strong people, very Godly people, people who knew right from wrong, and good, not only from evil, but from legal. What they did was extremely important, and like anything truly important, it could not have been easy.

Of course, maybe I just picked the wrong time of the year to quit smoking. Bah Humbug, and Merry Christmas anyway.

 

 

Michigan Renaissance Festival: A little slice of Heaven?

All About Me, Culture, Home Life, Politics & Culture, Religion, Wives

Last month my wife, the lovely and no-longer-dying Jess, and I went up to the Renaissance Festival in Holly, Michigan. I’ve got to admit, I approached the whole thing with significantly less enthusiasm than curiosity. Neither Jess nor I are into that sort of thing. We only went because it was an opportunity to hang out with her sister and her boyfriend, who are into that whole thing.

My initial impression was, I’ll admit, kind of judgmental. Anachronisms abounded. There were pirates with Ray-Bans, elves with cameras, Vikings with laptops, a couple of noblemen on scooters, and of course everyone had a cell phone.

As far as I can recall, the Renaissance was mostly the Black Death, art, music, literature, religion, architecture, and philosophy, and more Black Death. It had something for everybody, especially MOOOORE BLACK DEATH! Now with EXTRA DEATH! Ok I just checked Wikipedia (it’s ok, this is just a blog. Accuracy is optional) and I’m right. Art, science, literature, philosophy, religion, architecture and MOOOORE BLACK DEATH! (admit it, you laughed). However, plague sufferers were entirely absent at the fair (there weren’t even any funny, Monty Python-type sufferers).

There were a lot of really cool and elaborate costumes,  but again, many seemed wildly inaccurate if not just out of place. I quickly realized that the term “Renaissance” was applied very loosely. There were (in addition to the expected pirates, priests, nobles, merchants and peasants) scores of elves, hobbits, wizards, video game assassins, fairies, at least one Shrek, an Ash (from “Army of Darkness”, complete with chainsaw hand) and Spiderman in the costume of a Knight Templar.

Also, I never realized that bare midriffs were so popular during the renaissance. They were certainly in abundance at the festival. All kinds of bare midriffs. Toned ones, muscular ones, less-than toned ones, paunchy ones, even a couple of pregnant ones. Everywhere you looked, there were bare midriffs. Bare midriffs and cleavage. Lots of cleavage. Possibly even miles of cleavage. There was elf cleavage, pirate cleavage, peasant cleavage, noble cleavage, tattooed cleavage, sparkly cleavage, celtic cleavage, fairy cleavage, gypsy cleavage, young cleavage, old cleavage, sparse cleavage, ample cleavage, and even, in one or two unfortunate cases, long cleavage. There was every degree of cleavage, from reasonably demure, to the more brash, if-you’ve-got-it-flaunt-it type, to the extreme one-hop-and-she’s-topless type. Just to be clear, there was a LOT of cleavage.

Oh yeah, there was some shopping as well.

Anyway, at some point, I got to thinking about the world, and Heaven. I’m not sure why (it wasn’t the cleavage and bare midriffs, or at least not entirely). I think it was just because everyone was so happy. They were all just doing their own thing, together. I didn’t see any groups of Ladies in elaborate gowns bad-mouthing the “trampy” pirate girls. The Vikings weren’t beating up the Fairies. There were no hardcore Renaissance types complaining about how the hobbits were making a travesty of their festival. There were no hardbodies making fun of the heavy-set set for showing a little skin (or even a lot). Those who had probably made their own costumes weren’t looking down on those who’d bought theirs. Those who’d obviously spent hundreds, or even thousands of dollars on their costumes weren’t making fun of those who obviously hadn’t, and the ones who either couldn’t or wouldn’t spend much didn’t seem envious or intimidated by those who had. Everybody just seemed to take it for granted that everybody belonged. They were all free to be who they were (or maybe who they wish they were, or who they are in their hearts).

There was a real live-and-let-live vibe going on that I think we could use in the real world. I’m not talking about abandoning all principles and social norms, I’m just suggesting that maybe we should stop taking them quite so seriously. Just because someone votes Democrat doesn’t mean they want to destroy freedom and enslave us all to the government. Most Republicans probably don’t want to destroy the government and enslave us all to our capitalist overlords. Most Muslims don’t want to kill all Christians any more than most Christians want to kill all Muslims. Most gays don’t want to destroy your marriage. Certainly none of them seem intent on destroying mine. There are no gay guys beating down my door to convince me to switch teams (and what’s the deal with that anyway? Not that I’m interested, but it’d be nice to be asked, ya know? Hurtful bastards.), and most of the lesbians we know are related to me, so they’re leaving Jess alone. I mean, that would just be weird.

We’ve gotten so good at making mountains out of molehills, that we’ve forgotten what mountains look like. Nazi Germany was a mountain. 9/11 was a mountain. AIDS is a mountain. Hunger, poverty, racism,and disease are mountains. Obama doing the same thing that every other president before him has done is a molehill.

It seems to me that it would be a much better world if we all stepped back, and kind of re-prioritized things. Spent more time doing something about the actual mountains and less time bitching about the lowering of standards because the kid at the drive-through has turned his earlobes into handles.

Sometimes I think that Heaven’s gonna be kind of like that Renaissance Fair. Everybody (or at least everybody who gets in) free to worship God as they are, as He created them. There will be room for the guys from the Heavy-Metal Church of Christ (seriously, there is such a thing) and the Methodists, etc. We Christians all like to joke (usually smugly) about how we’re all going to be surprised by who will actually get into heaven and who won’t make the cut. Oddly enough though, I get the feeling that when the surprise sets in, everybody there is going to be pissed.

Of course, I could be wrong and Heaven’s just gonna be one big Southern Baptist Jamboree.

Pine Ridge mission trip – A few thoughts: Okay, more than a few

Culture, Politics, Politics & Culture, Religion, Travel

 

The whole motley crew after devotions in the Badlands
The whole motley crew after devotions in the Badlands

The hard-driving and long-suffering Jess and I got home from a mission trip to Pine Ridge Indian Reservation last Saturday night at about 11:00 p.m. I won’t kid you, it was a tough trip, starting about 3 days before we left. Trying to get everything packed into that trailer and my truck is always a challenge, not just because we take a lot of camping gear, but because of the enormous amount of stuff, both clothing and food, that people donate for us to take out there.

The amount of donations is both awesome and terrible. Awesome because people are so generous and eager to help. Many who have never gone on the trip have been our most consistent supporters, and many, I know, have truly given until it hurts, and God bless ’em for it.

It is terrible because we have so much to give, and so many of the Lakota have so little. None of us back here in Indiana think of ourselves as rich, at least nobody I know of. Most of us consider ourselves middle- or at worst, lower-middle-class (although late at night, when we’re lying sleepless in bed worrying about bills, or our kids’ college, or is our car going to make it another year, it’s awfully easy to secretly suspect we don’t even qualify for upper-lower-class).

We get as much love from them as they do from us.
We get as much love from them as they do from us.

Until we get out there, that is. Nothing makes you feel rich like going to the Rez. It’s a real eye-opener, especially the 1st time. We pull up to do our VBS at the playgrounds, and see the grass and weeds anywhere from ankle- to knee-high, and full of ticks, trash, snakes, and who knows what else. We see the basketball court covered with glass from so many broken liquor bottles that it looks like the court is paved with diamonds sparkling in the sun, and the shattered, and frequently shotgunned backboards. All surrounded by shabby, graffiti-scarred government-built houses with yards, some weed-strewn and unkempt, some as neatly maintained as any back home, some surrounded by field fence, some fortified with barbed-wire.

Someone once asked me why some of them will mow their own yard, but not just go on and mow the playground. I asked them, if you lived there, and are lucky enough to have a mower that works, and lucky enough to have a job so you can afford gas for the mower, and are motivated enough to give your own kids a decent, relatively safe place to play, would you take a chance on destroying your equipment and not be able to take care of your own kids’ needs, just to be a nice guy?

How many of us when we’re home go mow or maintain rundown public lands, or even our neighbors’ yards, or do we just bitch about why doesn’t the city or our neighbor do something about that damn dump? Why should we expect more from them than we do from ourselves?

No matter how tired you get, it's hard to say no.
No matter how tired you get, it’s hard to say no.

And then the kids show up, and you kind of forget what a nasty place it must be to live. They are so excited to see us, and especially those of us who’ve made this trip before. They are so grateful and hungry for the attention that it breaks your heart and uplifts it all at the same time. They just can’t seem to get enough. A kid will often pick out one of us and stick like glue. In many ways, it’s like they’re starved for human contact. Although some of them (especially the older ones) want to run and play games, it seems like most just want piggy-back rides, or to sit and talk with us while they draw with sidewalk chalk or do crafts, or they just want to be held, to be touched in a wholesome, loving way.

Of course, it’s not all beauty and light and Mr. Rodger’s Neighborhood with the kids either. Just like our kids, some of them will test you. They want to see if you’re willing to put your money where your mouth is. They know that it’s easy for us to come out there and fling Jesus at them, and make ourselves feel good about ourselves for playing with the “poor little indian kids”. They want (and need) to be loved, not patronized. So they push you to see if you’re the real deal. There’s nothing like the look on the face of a white middle-class, middle-aged housewife and mother after being told to “go F%&@ yourself” by a 6-year-old. They’ll swipe your stuff and taunt you with it. A favorite trick is to get you to let them take a picture of you with your phone. Then, you’ve got to spend maybe 15 minutes, maybe an hour trying to get them to give it back. They want to see if you’ll get mad. They want to see what’s really more important to you, your rich white-guy stuff or your words about Jesus.

Their teenagers like to challenge ours, especially the boys. They love sports, like most kids, and take great pleasure in schooling our guys. They will often try intimidation, to see what our boys will do. It’s a tough position for a teenage boy. If you back down, you’re a pussy, but if you don’t, are you being a christian? Does being a Christian equate to being a pussy? It’s a complicated theological question for a teenage boy in the middle of a pick-up basketball game. There’s also the possibility that if you come back too strong that you’re going to be Custer (although given the pitiful state of history instruction in our schools, there’s very little chance of any of our kids even knowing who Custer was. You can bet the Lakota kids do though.)

Usually, the testing dies off after the 1st day or two. Often the kids who tested you the most are the ones who are most upset at the end of the week when you have to leave.

This is why we do what we do.
This is why we do what we do.

Speaking of our piss-poor education in our own history, it always kinda cracks me up when I’m telling someone about the trip, and they ask me, “Do they still live in Teepee’s?” and stuff like that. It’s not just kids either. It’s educated adults who often ask this. It’s not just a question of education, it’s a matter of complete and utter disregard and neglect of these people by the entire nation. Nobody ever asks do Hawaiians live in grass huts or if Eskimo’s still live in igloos. I’ve actually stood on the Reservation, talking to whites passing through, and been asked, “Are there Indians around here?”

The ignorance of whites about conditions on Indian Reservations, and about Indians in general, is really shocking to me, even though I know I shouldn’t be surprised. Isolation is exactly why we put the reservations where they are. We looked around after taking everything worth taking from them, and, not having the heart to just exterminate them outright, benevolently “gave” them the most worthless bits of land we could find. At least until we found out there was something underneath that worthless ground that we did want, like uranium. Even then, we didn’t make them move, we just went in, took what we wanted, and left them poisoned water sources by way of thanks.

We cheated them, killed them, poisoned them, crushed them and penned up those who were left, to be further cheated, poisoned, and exploited. We did everything we could to make them helpless and dependent on us so we could do what we wanted without resistance, and now many of us have the nerve to talk about those lucky Indians with their government checks and casinos, and shame on them for being drunk, stoned, lazy, and unemployed. I mean what’s wrong with those people? You’d think they’d be eager to learn our ways now that we’ve shown them how awesome we are. Didn’t we even carve our presidents heads into their holy land, just as a constant reminder?

Sorry, I get a little carried away. It’s been said of the Lakota that they were a stone-age people who were unable to even discover the wheel, but that is simply not true. They knew about the wheel centuries ago. Their whole world was a wheel. The sky was a circle, the earth was a ball, even their homes were circular. The plains Indians even made wheels, like the Medicine Wheel in Wyoming. The difference is, that, while we use the wheel to move our stuff around, have to have the wheel, because we have so much stuff, to the Lakota, the wheel anchored their world. The entire earth was their wheel and wagon, and provided everything they needed. They didn’t need the wooden wheel. They lived in their wagon and it provided everything they needed. They didn’t need to take so much stuff with them because they never left the source of their stuff, and didn’t need anything it didn’t provide.

We took that away from them. We took away their wheel and gave them little squares and boxes, with lots of nice sharp corners. Boxes to live in, squares to live on. Imaginary boundaries on a boundless plain. It took the Catholic Church roughly 300 years to accept that the world was round (1492-1822), yet we expected the Lakota (among others) to accept that it was square in roughly 50. Once again, I digress.

Back to the mission trip. This year, we were a bit more disorganized than usual. The last few years, we’ve adopted the philosophy that we’ll go out there with a very loose plan, and be ready to do whatever work God sent our way. This year, we really had no plan at all. The Tennessee group who usually goes out the week following us had to go the same week as us. They are a lot more numerous, and better organized than we are, so it was decided that we’d just follow their lead, and help them out where needed. It turned out, they didn’t really need us. Those guys really have it going on. We expected to help them build a playground set and shelter at Potato Creek. We got there on Monday, saw what they were doing and realized we’d literally just be in their way. Those guys were good.

I think that our VBS/Street Ministry teams were more useful, just because it meant more attention to each kid. The only part of our trip that was unaffected was the Adult Ministry. Still, God sent us plenty of opportunities.

Dave McCoy, Caleb Carithers, and I were driving back to camp one afternoon when we passed a young woman walking along the road with a bunch of little kids, out in the middle of nowhere. We stopped and asked if they needed a ride, and she said they were going to Kyle. That’s about 20 miles from where we met her. Since we camp just outside of Kyle, we offered her a lift. We figured she was going to stay with someone there, but she said she was just going to Kyle to get diapers for her babies. She had 5 little kids with her, the oldest being about 4 or 5, and it was obvious that she’d set out for Kyle a little too late for at least one of the littlest ones

When we got to Kyle, we stopped at the grocery, and Caleb went into the store with her and got them all something to drink. Then we took her over to the police station to get the diapers, which seemed odd to us, but hey, it’s the Rez. There was no one there, so we invited her to dinner at the camp. We took her out there, and had dinner with her and her kids. After dinner we invited her to stay for devotions with us, but she wanted to get her kids home, so we loaded her down with diapers, wipes, leftovers, etc. and Troy Beckner gave them and another Native family a ride home.

Well, this is really getting long, so I’ll wrap it up with this. I get asked frequently if we’re doing any good, if we’re making any kind of difference out there, and I never really know what to say. I think we do. I know that helping people is good. Putting a smile on a sad little kid’s face is good. Putting a warm meal in a hungry kid’s belly is good. Giving desperately poor people the basics for survival, even if it’s only enough for a day or two is good. Giving people a safe place for their kids to play, or for them to camp while they worship is good. Making friends with the isolated and neglected is good. These good things are good not only for the Lakota, but for us as well.

As far as making a difference, I hope we do, but I know that if we do, it’s only because God takes our pitiful, inefficient, flailing efforts and uses them for his purposes.

Well, I guess that’s about it. Don’t worry, I’ll be back to writing stupid stuff about embarrassing bodily functions soon.

For those of you interested in learning more about any of this, just google Pine Ridge Indian Reservation.

Here are a few links to help you get started.

www.redcloudschool.org/reservation

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pine_Ridge_Indian_Reservation

www.4aihf.org/id40.html

 

God’s Mysterious Ways, or Was He Just Messing With Us? A Few Thoughts On Male Nipples

All About Me, Religion, Uncategorized

People love to claim that God has a sense of humor. We also hear a lot about his “mysterious ways”. Something happened to me the other day that got me to thinking about that. I was outside working, clearing some brush. It was hot, and I was sweating like a preacher on Judgement Day. I had put my cigarettes in the pocket of my T-shirt, and after a couple of hours, my left nipple was killing me. I mean it really hurt. Apparently those cellophane wrappers are a lot more abrasive than you’d think. I was miserable, and it reminded me of a time when I was working at a sporting goods store. We had those stupid name tags that we had to  wear. I was trying to lower a treestand down from a shelf, and it knocked the pin loose. That sucker dug in, and I thought I’d torn my nipple off. I was more than a little put out, and needless to say, I never put that name tag on again. Thinking back about that, really got me to thinking (that’s me, I’m a thinker) about creation (ok, maybe not a very good thinker), and I thought, “Why do men even have these damned things?”

Think about it. If you believe the Bible (and I do) God created Man first, then Women. So why did he give us nipples? We certainly don’t need them. They serve absolutely no purpose on a man. Can you think of any other part of the body that serves absolutely no purpose? Granted, there’s the appendix, but I don’t think they’re quite sure about that one. Now, believe me, I’m the first to admit that my knowledge of sciencey stuff is not great, so I Googled it. I quickly discovered that I needed to refine my search to “why do men have nipples”, because just Googling “Nipples” led me to a number of websites that, while interesting, were not really answering my question, although I did learn that people can be quite ingenious and startling when they set out to find a use for something.

Once I refined my search, I did find some useful websites. They weren’t nearly as interesting, but certainly of more use on a philosophical, theological, and scientific level. What I discovered was that no one really knows why men have nipples. No one really even had any good theories. Not the evolution guys, not the religious guys, not even the regular sciencey guys. The closest any of them came was, oddly enough, the religious guys, who seemed to think they were designed by God as a spare erogenous zone, or maybe just decoration.

I’m not so sure about that. I mean, for one thing, there are a lot of parts of my body that would benefit from a little sprucing up or decorating, but if God was so concerned with our appearance and/or attractiveness, He’d have made broccoli a source of fat and cheeseburgers a fat-burning food (c’mon, you know he had to know what we’d like). As far as erogenous zones go, pretty much all the others have other purposes (at least all the ones I can think of, although I don’t get out much. I may have to do some more research on Google). All the other bits that men and women share (hands, feet, brains, etc., and yes ladies, we men do have brains, we just save them for important things like sports stats and Clint Eastwood quotes) have a purpose that both sexes need, and the bits we don’t share aren’t needed by both.

Which brings me back to the original question, “Why do men have nipples?” Was God just thinking ahead, and, knowing that women were going to need them, think, “It would look weird if men don’t have ’em too.” Was he thinking, “You know, men don’t have enough erogenous zones with just the necessary equipment. I’d hate for them to not enjoy sex.” You know he knows us better than that.

I’m left with two different conclusions, and can’t decide between them: Conclusion #1. God knew how much women were going to suffer with that whole childbirth thing, and putting up with men (most of us mean well, but let’s face it, we’ve gotta be a pain in the ass), and deciding to even the score, went with nipples because he knew that if he stuck us with anything as painful as childbirth, most of us would just die. or Conclusion #2. He was just messing with us, and thought, “Let’s see what they think about this. hahahahahahahahahaha.”

Now I know that I’m pretty theologically wonky, so if any of you lovely readers out there ever run into one of those guys who know what God thinks about everything (and we all know there are plenty of them out there), be sure to ask them about this. It should be easy to answer for someone who knows what God thinks about really complex stuff like homosexuality, war, poverty, capitalism, politics, and that kind of stuff. The only thing I’m really sure about is that He loves us, and wants us to love him and each other (if you want to see what God thinks about loving each other, either check the Bible, or be very careful in forming your Google query).

Let me know what they say.

Rich Mullins movie. Another freaking post.

All About Me, Arts, Culture, Movies, Religion

I got a comment on a previous post about the movie “Ragamuffin”. It was a very nice post from a very nice guy who was disappointed in the movie. He was disappointed that they didn’t show more of Wayne’s funny, charming side. That seems to be a fairly common complaint, so I thought I’d post my response to him here. Keep in mind that I don’t speak for any of the folks who made the movie. This is all my opinion, and mine alone. That said . . .

 

Hey Tom – I think you’re kinda missing the point of the movie. They could have gone with a different angle (and actor) and shown Wayne’s charming, witty, funny side, but that’s the side everyone knows, and the side everyone (well a lot of people anyway) emulates. The side that I think most of us look at and say, “Why aren’t I like that?” But the upshot of making that movie would have just been preaching to the choir, and ultimately just glorifying Wayne as some kind of paragon of Christianity. Let’s face it, if you want that kind of stuff, you can find a shitload without really even trying. Just go to U-tube. What they were trying to do was make a movie that we could all watch and say, “Holy shit, I am just like Rich Mullins in so many ways! Maybe God loves me too.” A movie that ultimately glorifies God and not a musician who sang about him. Don’t get me wrong, I think Wayne was a good man, and a good Christian, if there is such a thing (at the very least, he was a better Christian than me), but I think part of the problem today is this whole cult of personality that has taken over. Even the “real” news is inundated with pointless pablum about celebrities and how great this one is or how bad that one is. The reason for this is that’s what the people apparently want. To hold up Miley Cyrus or Lindsey Lohan as examples of how terrible people are, or to hold up Tom Hanks or Princess Diana or Rich Mullins as examples of what we all ought to try to be. At the very least, us Christians ought to know better, but instead, we make heroes out of guys like Wayne or Amy Grant or Billy Graham, and have the nerve to be offended when we find out they’re just as jacked up as we are. It’s especially bad once somebody like that dies, whether that someone is a celebrity or just a family member. Once they’re dead, we sanctify them. We block out all the bad stuff about them, or, if we can’t block it out, we make it funny and endearing. I’ve lost both parents, a brother and a sister, and did that to all of them. Only when this movie came out did I really start dealing with all of it. Up til now, recognizing the bad aspects of their personalities and behavior seemed like a betrayal of their memory. Now that I’ve started actually dealing with it though, I realize that to deny those aspects or to try to laugh them off is really robbing them of their humanity, and that is unfair to them, and unfair to myself. I love and miss them all, but if I could have them back, I’d want them back warts and all, because that’s who they were. I think if you really want to know who Rich Mullins was, then the movie they made tells a necessary part, especially when taken in context with all the truly wonderful things about him that everyone already knows.

Well, sorry about getting on my soapbox. I do understand where you’re coming from, and I hope my little rant here won’t stop you from reading more (normally, I’m a lot funnier). Anyway, take care and thanks for reading.

 

God, Dad, Me, and Rich Mullins: A Few Thoughts On Rejection

All About Me, Arts, Culture, Movies, Politics & Culture, Religion

There's a phrase you never thought you'd associate with me. Try to get it out of your head though. hahahahaha
There’s a phrase you never thought you’d associate with me. Try to get it out of your head though. hahahahaha. Seriously though, I look like an Irish Buddha. Kinda disturbing, huh?

I wrote this a few weeks ago during a showing of “Ragamuffin: The True Story of Rich Mullins”. I’ve put off publishing it because I’m afraid it’s a little bit muddy. I know what I want to say, I’m just not sure that this says it. I hate to be misunderstood. I hope this makes sense. Feel free to let me know what you think.

I’m sitting in Mr. Coblentz’ old Sunday school classroom in our church basement. Upstairs we’re playing the 3rd showing of the movie “Ragamuffin”, the story of the gospel musician, Rich Mullins, my brother Wayne (sorry, but I’ve never been able to bring myself to call him Rich). This being the 3rd showing this weekend, I’m kind of reaching critical mass with it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good movie, in many ways, a great movie, but it’s painful to watch, for me anyway. It’s even more painful, or maybe difficult, or emotional, or uncomfortable are better terms, to watch it here, in the church we grew up in. Not only does it bring back memories of Wayne, but also of Mom and Dad, my sister Deb, Harold and Martha Coblentz, Bill and Betty Cox, Naomi Green, and so many more that I’ll never see again, at least not in this life. It makes me remember how much I miss them all, and how much I owe to them, and to the folks who are still here. I’m not going to mention any of their names; I’m pretty sure that would just embarrass them. Suffice to say, they are the ones who were here when I was growing up. These are the people who, when I moved back home after being gone for 20 years, welcomed me back with friendly smiles and open arms. The people who, most of all, should have known better. These are the heroes of my own paltry faith, and, I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say, of generations of kids who’ve been lucky enough to grow up in this church.

As far as the movie goes, much has been made of Wayne and Dad’s broken relationship in the movie. I can assure you that it was both much worse, and much better than it’s portrayed in the movie. The movie’s portrayal of their relationship seems, as far as I can gather from reading people’s comments on the Facebook, to be helping a lot of people who had dads like mine, and I’m glad. I’m also glad that Mel Fair is a good enough actor to show the pain Dad felt over that relationship. I think he gave an outstanding, nuanced performance in a very tough role. I think though, that a large aspect of that broken relationship has been missed (or maybe it’s just me. I’ve seen this thing about 6 or 7 times, and just realized it this weekend). Everybody seems to get that Wayne’s broken relationship with Dad is symbolic of his broken relationship with God. That he kept trying to get Dad to love and accept him, and Dad just couldn’t do it. That’s true, as far as it goes, but it seems to me that that is the smaller part. To understand the bigger part, I think you have to understand how we all felt about Dad (please keep in mind that this is all based on my own feelings, and my perceptions of my siblings feelings. I do not presume to speak authoritatively for any of my brothers or sisters). When I was little I saw my Dad as God. Not the touchy-feely, “footprints-in-the-sand” God of the New Testament, but the wrathful, “I love you, but for your own good I’ll kick your ass if you don’t do as I say” God of the Old Testament. Dad was everything a man should be, everything the Old Testament said God was. He was stern, he was tough, he was pissed. He was DOING THIS FOR OUR OWN GOOD. He was also perfect, or at least a perfectionist. Dad could make anything, he could fix anything. Things that he fixed lasted longer than one fresh from the store. He could look at a fistful of nuts, and pick out the exact size and thread that he needed. A lot of the reason for the disconnect between Dad and me (and I’m pretty sure the rest of us), wasn’t that Dad was tough, or that he was emotionally distant, it was that we could never measure up. We were all, in slightly varying degrees, totally incompetent at anything practical. We tried and tried, but we were all trainwrecks, a danger to ourselves and others. I think that was the root cause of the disconnect between all of us and Dad. We felt inadequate. It wasn’t that Dad never said he loved us, we knew he did. It wasn’t that he expected us to be as good at things as he was. It was pretty obvious from an early age that none of us were very good at anything practical. He did expect us to do our best, and REALLY our best, not that “I’m doing my best” that we all pull out when we’re half-assing something we don’t really want to do at all. Dad yelled at me all the time when we were working together, but as I think back, I can’t think of a time when he ever said a cross word to me when I really was doing the best that I could. He had more confidence and faith in us than we did. I think a lot of the problem was not that Dad rejected Wayne, but that Wayne rejected Dad, and it is in this that I think Wayne and Dad’s broken relationship represents the broken relationship with God. Of course, it’s possible that I’m just projecting my own issues.

Most of the problem between me and Dad came not from Dad, but from me. I knew I couldn’t be as good, or as tough, or as hard-working, or as right as he was, and so, I rebelled. I couldn’t understand how he could love me as I was, because I knew I wasn’t good enough. I’d find some other way to prove I was good enough. So, as years went by, I found myself constantly looking for his approval. I tried so hard to do the right thing, on so many things, and fell short on pretty much all of them. It never occurred to me that it wasn’t him I was failing, it was myself. Dad loved me just the way I was, even when I was doing some just remarkably stupid things (and if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s finding remarkably stupid things to do). Unfortunately, Dad died just as I was getting old enough, or mature enough, to really appreciate him, and to really know that, although he didn’t approve of the stupid things I did, that he loved me just as I am. I think that a lot of the reason that Wayne didn’t feel God’s love, that many of us feel that way, is that we believe in God, but we KNOW us. I mean seriously, how could a perfect God love me? I know what kind of stupid things I get up to. I know that a lot of the things I really want to do are things I shouldn’t do (but man, do they look like fun!). I know I don’t measure up to God even in my everyday life, when I’m trying to do the things I’m “supposed” to. I know I’m not cutting the theological mustard even on the little things. I know I eat too much, drink too much, cuss too much, smoke too much, don’t pay enough attention to my kids or wife, don’t make enough money, aren’t a good steward of my blessings, and God help me if he comes back in the evening, because it’s far more likely he’ll find me watching Game of Thrones or The Wolf of Wall Street than reading the bible. I also suspect strongly that I am not alone in this. How could God love losers like us? You’d have to go all the way back to Exodus to find another bunch as venal, fickle, unfaithful, self-righteous, and dim-witted as I am. And I’m talking about those of us who go to church regularly, and really try to follow God. Well, you might not have to go back to Exodus. Take a good look at the disciples sometime (I know I don’t measure up to those guys, and they lived with Jesus for 3 years and still didn’t seem to get it, so how much do I suck?). So a lot of us rebel. We’ll be as good as we can, and that’s gonna have to be good enough for God. After all, we’re still a lot better than a lot of people we could mention. I mean, aren’t we all the way God made us? Then, because we know in our heart of hearts that that’s just a load of rationalization bullshit, we feel even worse, like even bigger losers, and push God farther away. It seems to me that what appealed to Wayne about Brennan Manning’s message is that it seems to say (to me anyway),“You are as God made you. You’re not perfect, but he loves you anyway. So stop trying to make him love you, and be the YOU that God made. Do your best, your REAL best, and when you fail, and you will, remember that God will always love you.” Now I’ve read that some people believe that the Ragamuffin Gospel is just a lot of new-age hippie, I’m ok, you’re ok bullshit, but I disagree. I don’t see it as a license to just do whatever you want because, “That’s how God made me.” It seems to me that it is a way to move the stumbling blocks that keep us from loving God, to keep from just giving up. To remind us that God is bigger than we are, is bigger than our sin, our weakness, so that we can always see him, always find our way back to him. I think the question we’re really asking isn’t, “How can God love me?” but “How can I make him stop?” Because we just get tired of feeling like losers all the time, and if we can get him to turn his back on us, we won’t be reminded constantly of how far short we fall. Fortunately, it’s not up to us. He loves us whether we want him to or not, whether we deserve it or not.

A common (I think) way of referring to God as “our rock”, and he is. He is always there, and always Himself. But there’s a big old ocean of crap out there too, and we’re us. We’re prone to want to slip down the Rock, just to soak our feet, and end up getting washed off. But when you get washed off, you don’t say, “Well, that’s it for me, I don’t deserve to be on the Rock. I’ll just drown in this ocean of crap. In fact, I think I LIKE this crap. This is great crap! I can’t believe I was missing out on all this crap!” Well, you shouldn’t anyway, but that’s exactly what a lot of us seem to do, and so, down we sink, sucking in as much crap as we can, all the while congratulating ourselves on how much smarter and more sophisticated we are than all those poor saps sitting up there on the Rock. In fact, we’ll just be our own rock, or make our own rock, out of sex or drugs or booze or money or power or whatever trips our own particular trigger. Some of us even manage to be quite happy in our ocean of crap, sitting on our own personal rocks. But it is all a lie. There is only one Rock. Accept no substitute.

All of which brings me back to Dad. Dad didn’t bust our asses because he was mad at us. If he was mad at anyone, it was himself (most of the time anyway). He was hard on us because he loved us, and he knew the world wasn’t about to give us a break. If he hadn’t taught Wayne the value of hard work, Wayne wouldn’t have worked so hard at writing and performing. If he hadn’t taught Wayne to be tough, the music business would have chewed him up and spit him out like it has so many others. If he hadn’t taught Wayne that there are more important things than success and money, Wayne wouldn’t have been able to walk away and stay himself, the Wayne that God made and Dad trained.

And that brings me back to Whitewater Christian Church. I let myself get washed off the Rock as a young man, and I sucked down as much of that ocean of crap as I could. It took me quite a while to recognize my mistake, and as a result, I did a lot of damage, both to myself, and to those I love. Eventually though, I found a tractor big enough and powerful enough to pull my head out of my ass, and I started swimming back to the Rock. Our church has helped guide me back. Thinking about the example that those wonderful, loving, flawed people had set for me when I was a kid gives me hope for myself, and I think about them every time I set foot in that church. I know that they weren’t perfect (and to be honest, most of them would probably horrified at the pedestal that my generation has put them on), but they had the courage to try, and the patience and love to keep trying. I’m also comforted when I look around and see so many willing to take their place and continue the tradition established by our forebears. I don’t know that any of us will ever have the positive impact on the kids that those older had on us, but it’s encouraging to see so many willing to try. I feel lucky to be a part of it.

Stuff we wish was in the Bible (and other stuff we wish wasn’t)

Culture, Politics & Culture, Religion

Sometimes I think we’d be happier if we could (or would) make some serious changes to the bible (or, preferably find someone else to make the necessary changes. Why should we take the wrap if it’s a bad idea?). Some of the changes are obviously no-brainers, like adding “God helps those who help themselves.” I mean, how did that get left out in the first place. I think it’s obviously an editorial error. What kind of God would want to help the helpless? It’s just un-American. George Bernard Shaw once said something along the lines of, “The average Englishman thinks God is an Englishman.” Well, the average Englishman is wrong. God is not English. The English had to imperialize most of the known world just to get something decent to eat. Then, when the rest of the world got around to kicking them out, the English brought all those foreigners home with them, put them on the dole, and gave them health care. Doesn’t sound God-like to me. God is obviously American, and very likely a Southerner (after all, they seem to be about the only ones who REALLY believe anymore.) Just look at the evidence: 1.Try to find a real American (and I mean a REAL American, not one of them commie, sissy liberals) who doesn’t know (not just believe, but know) that Americans are God’s chosen people. 2. We don’t drag all manner of foreigners in here to corrupt our values, take all our good-paying fruit-picking jobs, and overload our welfare system. Hell no! We do everything we can to keep ’em out of here, up to and including building walls hundreds of miles long. And, 3. We’re the best cooks. We really know how to take God’s bounty and make the most of it. Just look around you. How many skinny Americans do you see? Not many, and those that are have to work like maniacs to stay that way. Look at all the poor schmucks out there running, biking, Tai-Boing, Pilates-izing, etc., trying to resist the American way and God’s blessings. It’s really kind of pathetic. Remember, “Whoever tries to save their life will lose it…” It’s right there in the Bible.

Now granted, a lot of the things that make us God’s Chosen People originated in other places, but we improved on them. Everything becomes better once we’ve made it our own. We may get our inspiration from foreigners, but we take care to bring home the ideas and leave the foreigners at home. The Chinese took hundreds of years to build their wall, we should have ours finished in less than a decade or two. The Italians invented pizza, but have you ever had pizza in Italy? It doesn’t even deserve the name pizza. It’s nowhere near the same class as our American pizza, be it Chicago-style or New York, or frozen in a box at the grocery. Look at plumbing. The Romans may have invented it, but have you ever tried the plumbing anywhere else? At it’s best, it’s complicated and confusing, at it’s worst it’s primitive and downright scary. These are just three examples of our superiority. I’m sure any real American could think of dozens more.

But I digress. What I’m getting at is this. We’re innovators. We’re not satisfied to take something as it is. We have a God-given compulsion to improve things. It’s what we’re here for. That’s why I think it’s up to us (or somebody, not necessarily you or me. See the parenthetical comment at the beginning of this post.) to man up and make some important and necessary corrections to the Bible. Some additions I’d like to see are as follows:

1. God helps those who help themselves. Let’s face it, most of us think it’s in there already.

2. A little clarification on how that whole “Hate the sin but love the sinner” thing is supposed to work. The prevailing idea seems to consist of “I love you, and this is why you’re going to hell.” Is that enough, or should we be throwing things at them to make sure they get the point?

3. Something about the right to keep and bear arms. Just having it in the Constitution isn’t cutting it. If God didn’t want us to be armed, then why did he give us so much cool stuff to protect. “I’ll keep my Xbox after I pry it from your cold, dead fingers. God Bless.”

There also are some things that need to be condensed, heavily edited, or removed altogether.

1. “For the love of money is the root of all evil.” Yikes! How’d that get in there? If we don’t have money to keep score, how are we going to know who God loves the most? Besides, haven’t we sanctified our money by putting God on it? If you think about it, isn’t spending money just another way of witnessing? Isn’t accumulation of money just another way of keeping God close to our hearts? Maybe it’s talking about foreign money.

2. Everything Jesus said. Now before you panic, I’m not saying we should take it all out. Obviously, whipping the money-changers out of the temple needs to stay. Beating up bad guys is something we can all get behind (also, it could be seen as an indictment of the evils of foreign money. See, it’s all starting to come together.) The whole Son of God thing is cool, as is the dying for the forgiveness of our sins, but have you ever read the stuff he said? A lot of it is just downright un-American. I know, I know, you’re thinking Son of God, infallible, etc., but think about it. Would a Christian God really say that stuff? Look how much of it is completely counter to conventional Christian wisdom. Even his words are printed in RED. You know what else is red? Communism. So, since we’ve already established that God is an American, I think it’s far more likely that Jesus’ words, as represented in the Bible are much more likely to be the result of an either accidental or intentional bad translation. Maybe a Franciscan editor? We may never know how it happened. It’s enough to know we can fix it.

At any rate, you get the idea. Feel free to use the comments section below to suggest other changes. I’m sure there are lots of areas open to improvement and good old American innovation. Enjoy!

We Want a John Wayne Jesus

Culture, Politics & Culture, Religion

I think it’s probably hard to be a Christian in America, maybe harder than anywhere else on earth. I don’t mean more dangerous, because there is probably no place on earth less dangerous (physically anyway) to be a Christian. We’ve just been too blessed. All over the world, there are Christians who are being seriously persecuted – being beaten, tortured, imprisoned, and killed for being Christian. I mean, how are we supposed to compete with that? We’re Americans. We’re supposed to be #1. Don’t get me wrong, we certainly try, having our little hissy fits because some liberal wants to take “In God We Trust” off of our money, or because somebody wants to take away the 10 Commandments plaque from our courthouse, or because someone doesn’t like our Christmas decorations, but let’s face it, these things just don’t cut the mustard in the persecution sweepstakes. It’s kind of embarrassing, really. I think we need a bold new interpretation of Jesus, one that fits the American mold better. Jesus himself said, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” If that’s not a ringing endorsement of Sam Colt’s six-gun, the gun that made America great, I don’t know what is. A lot of times though, he sounded distinctly un-American. All that stuff about giving your stuff away to help the poor, and the meek inheriting the earth, what’s that all about? You’d think he didn’t want us to shoot people who want our stuff. Let’s face it, if he really knew what he was talking about, we’d hear a lot more about what he said in church. He’s supposed to be the basis of our faith, he’s the Christ in Christian, so why are 75-80% of our sermons based on the old testament (particularly the “smiting” bits. We do like the smiting), or what Paul and the Disciples had to say about what he said?

We’re Americans. That old, mushy Jesus may be ok for all those Socialists in Europe and Canada, with their health care and gun control, but that’s not the way we roll, and we must be doing things right. Why else would God bless us so abundantly, and let all those other Christians in other parts of the world suffer so terribly? God wants us to have our guns, just as many as we can hold. How else are we going to protect all our stuff? It’s all stuff that God has given us, right? Aggressively defending it is just good stewardship. Besides, if we really wanted to help those foreign Christians, we should stop sending them food and money. We should be sending them guns. God and guns are what made America great, there’s no reason why it shouldn’t do the trick for them. God wants us to make our own way in the world, and if some can’t keep up, well then, they need to get right with God first, and then maybe they’ll get help, or better yet, they won’t need help. God wants us to stick our thumb in the eye of the Government every time it gets to thinking it can stick its nose into our business (or if we’re industrious enough, businesses). Who does the Government think they are anyway? I mean, who put them in positions of authority?

What we as Americans want, and deserve, is a John Wayne Jesus. One who’s fair, but realizes that “some people” just don’t belong, that there are some people you just can’t help. One who’s generous and kind, but not afraid to open a can of whup-ass on those who deserve it. A Jesus who’s tough, and believes in tough love. A Jesus who’ll make sure that we all get exactly what we’ve got coming to us.

Breaking News! I’m a preachy jerk (but no film at 11)

Politics & Culture, Religion

I have discovered that I am (or at least have a tendency toward being) a preachy jerk. Granted, my wife, my kids, and any number of my friends could (and have) pointed this out, but, I’ve finally figured it out for myself. Frankly, I’m a little disappointed in myself that it’s taken me this long to really realize it. I pride myself on being an at least fairly smart guy, and fairly aware of my own shortcomings, but to reach this age without being cognizant (one easy way to spot people who think they’re smart is watch for big words like cognizant) of this glaring deficiency in my own character is a little embarrassing.

For two or three days now, I’ve been trying to write a couple of different posts dealing, at least nominally, with religion. One was about how many people think they know what God wants, expects, or means, when Jesus’ own disciples lived with him, talked with him, and listened to him for what, three years, and still had trouble understanding what he was talking about. If you read the gospels, and give the disciples silly British accents, many of their exchanges with Jesus sound like a Monty Python sketch. Another post was about the merits of losers, and was based on much the same material (with lots of examples from the old testament thrown in).

I found, as I was writing, that I kept sounding more and more preachy. In fact, I was really starting to sound like all those schmucks and chuckleheads who are so sure they’ve got it right. Even more aggravating was that I kept preaching against saying “I know what God wants”, rather than preaching for saying, “I don’t really know what God wants, but I’m going to do my best to understand and please him anyway,” which was the whole point of the posts. Why is it so much easier (and fun) to preach against things than for better things?

I’m not saying that we can’t understand the bible (although there are honestly a lot of parts that I can’t seem to get my head around), but rather that we (particularly the royal “we”) should keep in mind our (royal “our”) own fallibility, and not rely too heavily on our own limited understanding. I (the royal “we” joke is getting a little old already. It probably wasn’t that funny to begin with) should keep in mind that, as much trouble as the disciples seemed to have understanding the most basic concepts of what Jesus was saying, how much chance have I really got?

I take some comfort in the fact that I don’t seem to be the only one with a propensity for preachiness, and that I at least have the common sense to post my opinions here where, let’s face it, I’m probably the only one who’s ever going to see it, rather than searching out cameras and microphones, podiums and pulpits from which to inflict my pompous views on the public.

Sorry if this seemed a little preachy.