Insular Tahiti

2023-01-02T12:40:00.002-08:00

The road to madness is paved with indifference.

Coming Soon to a Potawatomi Zoo Near You

2022-02-03T05:35:00.000-08:00

The Blue Room

2021-03-05T14:01:00.000-08:00

I found a picture on the internet today. A picture of my old bedroom on Scott Ave in Fort Wayne, the room that I helped paint with my Mother and Father. I remember the room painted the color blue, because at the time that was my favorite color, or perhaps the favorite color of my Mother.

The picture on the internet showed a ratty room, decrepit, probably in the near past a meth house or crack den. The neighborhood I grew up in is not the same as the present decaying hood. My memories grow dim with age, yet I remember the day we painted. A day full of excitement as we moved from a trailer into our house. A house with a yard and train tracks nearby. The seven-year-old little redheaded boy, adorned with the Pictish blue warpaint of his ancestors, was so happy. I didn’t find out until much later that my Father grew up around the corner on Thompson Ave. Indeed in the past, many of the Putt family lived within blocks of our house.

The memory of that day also brought a profound sadness. A melancholy that seems to embrace my soul and very being. I realized that all the memories I shared with my Mother and Father are mine, and mine alone. As well as the memories that I made with friends and loved ones that have passed into the great beyond. I am the sole living repository of those memories. Those memories are a great responsibility and burden. When I pass, these memories will pass too. All things must pass, dust to dust, and atom to atom.

There is a decision to make. Embrace the melancholy, a sure temptress, and retreat into absolute depression. Or remember the love, and bask in the glow of those times remembered. I think today, at this moment, I shall remember what it was like to be with both my parents, in a new house, working together, and embrace the love that passes all understanding.

Mayhem, Madness, and the Wish for Peace

2020-09-18T06:56:00.001-07:00

The world has become a nightmare. Our country has become a nightmare. Our cities have become battlegrounds. Madness prevails across all levels of society. Where does it end? Is this the beginning of the end times or a precursor of death before resurrection?

The Covid nightmare began in earnest back in March. While Italy was in the throes of the pandemic, politicians such as Trump and Boris Johnson denied there was a problem and that it would quickly go away. The USA and Great Britain quickly found out that politicians are not doctors and the deaths caused by the virus quickly escalated.

Madness prevailed in the USA as scientists said one thing and politicians said another. The growing faction of stupid people in the country increased at an alarming rate. If the escalating deaths weren't enough we had a police officer suffocate a man and it was caught on video. Years of mistrust and abuse came to head with protests and rioting in some of our major cities.

Did our government try to bring about peace? No! And I mean NO! Trump threatened to send in troops to squash the protests. Governors, already trying to cope with the virus, were caught off guard and were slow to respond. The ensuing mayhem was exacerbated by a president who had the military clear a path to an Epsicopal church by tear-gassing a crowd of peaceful protesters, including a priest.

Trump is not a Christian by any definition of the term. Yet millions of Evangelical Christians follow the man. What is wrong with these people. They spout out bullshit about being pro-life, while at the same time they support putting children in cages, promote racism, turn their backs on the poor, and enrich the coffers of their televangelists at a obscene level.

When Judgement Day arrives their will be much gnashing of teeth and wailing. The righteous follow the tenets of the prophets. Instead the Evangelicals concentrate of one small area and ignore the rest.

Perhaps we need to do what South Africa has done and set up a Council of Reconciliation. Simultaneously we need to have a cohesive plan to attack the virus. We need to eliminate racism and set a path towards peace and equal justice. The time of politicians becoming rich off while in office must end.

There is hope for the country, but I give us only a ten percent chance of this republic surviving. Democracy has become a joke and the rich want it all. Greed has become the mantra of this country. We don't have good leaders and considering the level of ignorance and rampant stupidity shown by the general population, I don't see smart, compassionate, people being elected. I don't have a good feeling about our future.

Christmas Shopping and Sadness

2018-12-20T13:54:00.001-08:00

Today I ventured out in the fifty-degree weather for the annual Christmas shopping. First stop was the mall. As soon as I entered the mall, I took a sharp right into the pet store. There I gazed upon the caged dogs, behind glass like expensive jewelry. The look of longing and sadness in their eyes was mirrored by my own. When I turned, I saw people in small rooms, train compartment sized, holding and petting puppies that might or might become a member of that family and accompany them to their new home. If not, then back to the glass cage. I left the store feeling both happy and sad, a foreshadowing for the mall trip.

The next stop was Sears. Or should I say the ghost town of Sears. What a change from years past. Empty shelves, ghost-employees, a mere wisp of enthusiasm left. Here the workers can only look forward to their rich masters getting a Christmas-bankruptcy bonus. The workers, victims to the greed of the mismanagers, will be soon tossed aside like the Christmas wrappings of the goods they sell. I exited Sears feeling empty and sad.

For lunch, I stopped at the Roma’s in the food court. A Stromboli brought back memories of my daughter and I feasting at the food court in years gone by. Finally, the sound of Christmas music brought me temporarily out of my funk. Filled up by the meaty Stromboli, yet annoyed at the bent fork I was supplied with, I used my newfound energy to leave the food court and venture towards the promised land of Barnes & Noble.

The sounds of Christmas carols diminished as I left the food court. Funny, I seem to remember in years past that the joyful sounds of Christmas filled the entire mall. Although there were people wandering about the mall, most seemed cheerless and not talkative.

Barnes & Noble, the last respite of bookworms such as myself, the last of the greats such as B Dalton, Borders, and Walden, names from the past, mere memories. To be surrounded by thousands of books brought joy into my heart. My only complaint that if I lived a hundred years I still would not be able to read all that I desired. After an hour of one bookgasm after another, I said a sorrowful goodbye to my book-heaven and took off to buy my granddaughter a toy.

Before I could make my way to the Disney store, I was waylaid by some delicious odors coming from a bathing goods store. I saw plenty of nice smelly bath oils salts, creams, gels, etc. However, the line of people was very long and I was feeling very impatient. I surmised that many people were feeling very dirty in our current political situation and felt a good body cleansing would help. What we need is a good soul cleansing and I wasn’t going to get it with a cherry bath bomb.

Macy’s was the next stop. I love meandering through Macy’s; dreaming of all the stuff while my wallet punches me in the butt, reminding me that I can’t afford most of what I see. Still I take out my wallet, and after thrashing about, extract some green stuff to buy a few items for my wife. The atmosphere is very different than Sears. Salespeople seem more cheerful, probably because they know there jobs are not going to disappear after Christmas. When and if, Macy’s shuts down then another bulwark of American culture will disappear. What next, the Amazon Thanksgiving Day parade?

Disney, the store that elicits so many wonderful memories of family trips to Disney World. The Tower of Terror, Splash Mountain, space mountain, Epcot, oh so many wonderful memories, now tarnished by the miserly sales person I encountered.

“Did you bring a reusable bag, “she questioned?”

No,” I responded.

“Then it is 99 cents for a bag.”

“Don’t need one then.”

And I left with a toy and receipt in one hand and my Christmas spirit diminished by one Grinch-like person.

My wallet lighter, my sadness heavier, I exited the mall to the world outside. I have so many wonderful and cherished memories of Christmas’s past. The future seems dim and I worry about our children and grandchildren. Collectively we Americans seem to have lost our joy. I feel like the poor puppies caged behind glass, longing for love, waiting to be taken home, the home from whence I came.

Sermon on Nov 18, 2018

2018-11-18T16:04:00.000-08:00

In today’s readings we see a dire portent of the future. Jesus and the Prophets foresee doom and gloom around every corner and it does seem to be one of the central themes of the bible. Jesus and Daniel, both see the destruction of humanity, but also the rebirth, a new and better people. Hence the birth pangs.

Most mothers can attest to the pain associated with childbirth. Most men cannot relate, although tearing my ACL and having my chest cracked open brought me a great deal of pain. So much so that after my heart surgery I prayed to God to let me die, or take away the pain. At that moment I was prepared to die. That type of pain and anguish is what Jesus, John, Isiah, Daniel and others describe in the Bible.

Some think that they are righteous enough they will be whisked away in a rapture. Good luck with that. If you think you are that righteous then you are probably self-righteous and your wishes of being whisked away are delusional. If you are a Christian and you can’t wait for all your human beings to be destroyed while you survive, perhaps you are not really a follower of Jesus at all.

No, the birth pangs that Jesus talks about, are the painful transformation from the old ways of war, famine, pestilence, and treachery that have besieged humanity from the beginning of our creation. When we reach the point of total destruction, when the scattered remains of humanity are left, then the birth of a new peaceful utopian society shall take place. Sounds good, and for the last 2000 years faithful Christians have been awaiting the “New World.”

But wait, there’s more! What if Christ is not talking about the total destruction of our species? What if he is talking about the transformation of us as individuals? After all, how many times has Jesus talked in parables and allegory? There is always a deeper meaning to what Jesus says. Always a deeper meaning.

What prevents us, as individuals, these little islands of flesh, from beginning one with Jesus? Do we have to suffer and undergo and terrible death. When we are born and thrust into the world we are full of love. Usually the first human we encounter is our mother and her love fills us, her voice, her touch, our fist gaze upon her, it’s all love. We are creatures of God and God is love. But then the world confronts us, we are exposed to evil and to protect ourselves we build an ego. This ego gets us through the first half of our life, yet it limits who we are, what we are. Confined by our egos we get caught up in the materialistic world and do everything it takes to compete and survive and for most of our loves the ego is a necessity.

What about love? What happened to that love we had as a child? In some people love can get buried so deep that most others think them completely evil. Our egos demand. “me first.” and our egos can be very selfish.

Jesus speaks of being reborn, being born from above, and of being childlike to get into the Kingdom of Heaven. To become childlike we need to let go of our egos. We need to forego the protections our mind has constructed. We need to throw down all the stones of the wall we call our ego and open ourselves to the Love that is God.

Does that sound easy? Of course not. We spend our entire life building and feeding our egos. They are to our minds as our skin is to our body. It takes time and practice to let go of our ego. Contemplative prayer is one method. Meditation, where we let go of our thoughts and wants and needs is one method of freeing ourselves from our egos. Suffering to the point where our egos are destroyed is another way. Pain so intense that we realize we are not in control and ask God for help.

Christians, Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, Jews, indeed all religions have a branch of believers they call mystics. Mystics are people of faith who believe in a spiritual union with God. Some people associate mystics with people who see visions. Throughout history, there have been such mystics, but seeing visions is not a requirement, that is more of a gift from God. Others believe in a more literal interpretation of the Bible. The literalists think that they know all the answers and need search no further. I’m not trying to be judgmental, I get upset when someone tells me they know all the answers and a quick check in Wikipedia reveals 173 times since Christ when people have predicted the end of the earth. You will not find any mystics that think they know all the answers. But they do know that God is love and all those that have experienced that love are radically changed.

All I can be is a guide, a signpost, to the ultimate destination … Love. Jesus had two commandments; Love God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. And Love thy neighbor as thy self. The heart is where love resides, our soul is pure love the piece of God that is us, and the mind is where our ego takes residence. When we throw down the stones of our ego, then love can enter our minds. Then and only then can we truly love our neighbors.

The wars and famines and earthquakes that Jesus foretells. In a metaphorical sense, are they our internal struggles, our spiritual starvation, our pains and sufferings? This is not a stretch. For two thousand years crackpots have been telling us that the end is near. Yet here we are? What if all these apocryphal warnings are not about mankind as a whole, but us as individuals? Ponder this as you leave today.

In Thich Nhat Hanh’s words, “Enlightenment for a wave is the moment the wave realizes that it is water. At that moment, all fear of death disappears.” When are egos is cast aside and we realize that we are creatures of love, we no longer fear death, for death is another form of birth.

If this sounds crazy, and it might, because most of us are taught to fear death from an early age, then consider some observations from a hospice worker. Kathleen Dowling Singh wrote a book, the Grace in Dying. And discusses the experiences she observed with people dying.

“I realized that what I had been witnessing in the process of dying was grace, all around, shimmering and penetrating. I began, with newly opened eyes, to observe the subtlety of this grace and to observe the qualities of grace in those nearing death. I became aware that all of the observed qualities of the Nearing Death Experience point to the fact that something profound is occurring here, a passage to deeper being. As I worked with dying people from all walks of life and at many different levels of spiritual evolution, normative patterns of change, of transformations in consciousness, became apparent.

There appears to be a universal, sequential progression into deeper, subtler, and more enveloping dimensions of awareness, identity, and being as we begin to die—a movement from the periphery into the Center. I have come to believe that the time of dying effects a transformation from perceived tragedy to experienced grace. Beyond that, I think this transformation is a universal process. Although relatively unexamined, the Nearing Death Experience has profound implications. Dying offers the possibility of entering the radiance, the vastness, of our Essential Nature, at least for a few precious moments. . . .

The Nearing Death Experience implies a natural and conscious remerging with the Ground of Being from which we have all once unconsciously emerged. A transformation occurs from the point of terror at the contemplation of the loss of our separate, personal self to a merging into the deep, nurturing, ineffable experience of Unity.

My experience is that most people who are dying have no conscious desire for transcendence; most of us do not live at the level of depth where such a longing is a conscious priority. And, yet, everyone does seem to enter a transcendent and transformed level of consciousness in the Nearing Death Experience. . . . It is rather profound and encouraging to contemplate these indications that the life and death of a human being is so exquisitely calibrated as to automatically produce union with Spirit.”

The observations of Singh are not mind-blowing. I read the autobiography of Johnny Cash and in it, he describes the death of his older brother, Jack. Jack wanted to be a preacher when he grew up, but he suffered a terrible injury in a sawmill. As the family surrounded him, he wavered in and out of consciousness. The final time he awoke with a smile on his face and asked, “Can you hear them.” Someone asked who and he responded, “The Angels, they are singing by the river, and they are waiting for me. Then he passed. To me that is what Singh is describing.

This is what my favorite poet, Khalil Gibran has to say about death.

You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.

In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honor.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

To tie this together, what Singh is describing is what mystics try to attain with contemplative prayer and meditation. A personal transformation, where we enter a state of grace without the baggage of our egos, where peace and love replace need and want. The first language of God is silence. When we enter into silence that is where God speaks to us.

Ponder this as you leave today. When you have a chance sit quietly and try to discard your thoughts, cares, and needs. Become as a child, release your burdens to Christ and remember that you are loved, that love is where we came from and where we go back to and love is never to be feared.

Racism

2018-05-24T08:33:00.001-07:00

The definition of racism found in the dictionary consists of three parts:

1. A belief or doctrine that inherent differences among the various human racial groups determine the cultural or individual achievement, usually involving the idea that ones own race is superior and has the right to dominate others or that a particular group is inferior to others.

2. A policy, system of government, etc., based upon or fostering such a doctrine; discrimination.

3. Hatred or intolerance of another race or races.

The first definition is the key to understanding racism. It is a belief, not a fact. Some of us believe in the Trinitarian God, in Angels, in the Power of the Holy Spirit. That is a belief of faith. Racism on the other hand is a belief that is taught out of hatred. We are all made in the image of God, so the Bible says. But even for those who do not believe in a loving God, the science of biology and DNA should be enough proof for anyone of intelligence that the all members of the human race are made up of the same building blocks. And just like building blocks, we wear a façade on the outside of our bodies that can be painted any color; in the case of human beings, the color is caused by melanin in our skin. Cut us open and we all look the same.

Racism is taught and believed by some of the same folks who teach the Earth is flat, vaccines are evil, climate change is made up, rocks falling in the ocean account for the rise in sea level, and cigarettes do not cause cancer. At one time, the Earth was considered the center of the universe and good, intelligent men were persecuted for saying so. Not so long ago doctors laughed at the notion of germs, and sanitary conditions in operating rooms did not exist. Ignorance is hard to conquer if the ignorant do not want to change.

In our country, we brought slaves from Africa and indentured servants from Europe. Neither was treated well. Slaves who escaped were severely punished, as were the people who helped them. Even educating a slave was illegal. Evil has existed for as long as mankind has been on this planet. Evil and Love coexist as darkness and light. We pretend that evil can be vanquished like some disease, and it is a disease. However, it is not that easy.

Evil mutates! Like a virus that adapts to changing environments, so too evil adapts. If people are not discriminated based on the skin color we humans will find some other facet to discriminate against: intelligence, wealth, sexual identify, gender, class, lineage, you name it and we will discriminate. I was picked on in school for being a red head, a minor annoyance and not comparable to institutional racism, yet discrimination it was, especially for a severe introvert who only wanted to be left alone. I once watched an episode of Oprah where she divided the audience between eye colors, awarded one color with a prize, and discriminated against the other. A simple and effective exercise and yet it has stuck with me for years. We poor white folks feel discrimination when we are picked last for a basketball game, or don’t win the local Miss Teen pageant. What about the black man, who whistles at a white woman, and then is lynched for his audacity. Lynching was the way the white folks carried out their perverse form of justice and they still called themselves Christian. I have news for them though, Jesus in Luke 13:27 says "But he will reply, 'I don't know you or where you come from. Away from me, all you evildoers!'

I have witnessed discrimination my entire life. In a previous post, I talked about the poor Mexican boy who was thrust into my fourth grade class and I comforted him as he cried. I did not encounter black children until I went to middle school, and honestly, I was scared of them (I was taught to be scared). All except Willy, a black kid in my section (advanced) and he was in all my classes. My favorite teachers were black and I still remember them with fondness. In fact, the only teachers I didn’t like in my entire school years were two white men, one was a sadistic jerk, and the other tried to destroy the dreams of a young teen.

When I joined the Navy, I saw more discrimination and at the same time, I saw opportunities for those ignored by the so-called normal society. I once heard a white man from Arizona brag about taking potshots at Indians, and I instantly despised the fool. I served with a Puerto Rican who had a chip the size of Rhode Island on his shoulder ( I now know why), a Born-Again Christian that the entire division picked on, and I did not wholly sympathize until I grew older and hopefully wiser.

For those that say racism is outdated, I might compare you to an Ostrich, your head buried in the sand, and your worldview seen through your sphincter. Last Christmas, I attended a dinner at one of our local high-class restaurants. One of my coworkers, who is African-American, was repeatedly ignored and skipped over by the wait staff until his wife interceded on his behalf. I talked with some of my coworkers later and they hadn’t noticed. I realized that most of us are blind to our white-privilege. This wasn’t forty or fifty years ago, it is happening today. Look at our government, how many people of color served with the Republican side of Congress last year? How many people of color serve on the president’s staff? Believe me, the Republican party of today is not the party of Lincoln, they have mutated.

Our country is being torn apart and our own government is complicit. Look at our president interfering in the National Football League. Look at him destroying anything Obama did and bragging about it, just because Obama was black. Evil persists and it seems to be winning. Our people have become so stupid they ignore the facts that the Russians fuel and fan the flames of discrimination in this country, with the full knowledge and consent of the evildoers in this country.

There is hope! We may destroy those that preach peace and love; Martin Luther King and Gandhi come to mind as two who sacrificed their lives. I listened to Bishop Curry preach at Prince Harry and Meghan’s wedding and his message was one of love and reconciliation. Will we listen the message, or will we listen to the fear-mongers, the haters, and the dividers? What will win, Love or hate? At this point, I am not sure. Jesus said the ruler of this world was defeated. I am beginning to think Jesus won the battle, but the war is far from over and evil is still fighting back. We must do our part to ensure Love and Goodness win; we must fight evil with all our strength for the sake of our children and future decedents. Love is the only way.

Please educate yourself on our past and our present state. Whenever someone tries to divide us then you should question their motives. Follow the links below to some sermons, speeches, and history. Wikipedia may not always be a reliable source but the reference links at the bottom of the pages are usually reliable.

Bishop Curry's Royal Wedding Sermon

Martin Luther King's I Have a Dream Speech

Billy Graham on Racism

Lynching in America

Discrimination in America

Racism in the USA

Spring and Musings from the Inside of a Bald Head

2018-05-07T14:59:00.000-07:00

Spring, the first thoughts that spring forth in my mind are green, then new life, then slinky. Yeah, the slinky popped into my thoughts springing from a youthful toy that still amuses. Green and new life on the other hand is what awaits me as I look out the window.

I sit at my dinner/writing table gazing into a mirror that reflects the view from outside. I see green grass, dotted with yellow heads of dandelions, a Redbud bursting with purple flowers, and a Beech tree pushing forth greenery from its buds. Coming closer, I see my bald head reflected in the mirror, with the only signs of new growth the stubble of a day old beard. To my side is a Kinkade painting, A Quiet Evening, a cottage next to a stream, surrounded by trees and flowers. It is to the painting I sometimes retreat, seeking peace and solace, a cottage filled with the contents of my imagination.

Then back to the bald headed person in the mirror. Who is he? Sixty years ago, he had a full head of red hair and probably a full diaper. What dreams did the baby dream? Did he still hear the voice of God? A brain, an empty slate ready to have life’s adventures, toils, and tribulations recorded therein. Oh how I would love to venture back in time and whisper so many secrets to that child.

What would I tell the child? Would I be a good capitalist and tell him, to buy Microsoft and Amazon? Perhaps I would say find your true purpose in life early and pursue your dreams, seek good and wise counsel, and most of all trust your instincts. Discover the strengths that lie within you, and always learn. Truthfully I would tell him to pursue his dreams to be happy and buy Microsoft to eat well.

I was a very shy child. I remember the first time I felt compassion, at least a time that is ingrained in my memory. I was in fourth grade and in the middle of the first semester a new kid was introduced, Manuel Gomez, a Mexican child who lived in a ramshackle house at the edge of the woods not far from my home. I noticed he was crying and alone, and I talked to him at recess and we ended up good friends. I still remember the pumpkin filled empanada his mother gave me, so sweet, so delicious, and I have never tasted one better.

Compassion, coupled with empathy can be both a wonderful gift and a deadly curse. I can sense what people are feeling, their love, their fears, and their hate. Mostly the hate is a result of fear and/or ignorance and that can sometimes be conquered with education and love. Hate, that resides in an educated individual, or an institution, that hate is pure evil, and evil rarely responds to love.

Sixty years, sixty times around the sun, not even a full blink in the all-seeing eye of the cosmos. I have seen love and I have seen hate. Today, in this world, I see hate winning, and it is sad. But today, at this moment in time, I look past my bald head and gaze at the purple tree, the green grass, and even the dandelions, and my heart sings with joy. I will do my best not to let hate win. Love will be victorious!

Doubt, Despair, Faith, and Love

2018-04-08T10:59:00.001-07:00

In the Gospel, we hear of the Apostle Thomas’s doubts when told of the visit of Christ. Then Christ appears to Thomas and shows him the wounds and Thomas proclaims my Lord and my God. In Matthew, 28:17 it says that other disciples doubted. And so, it goes even today that people doubt that Christ has risen.

I’m going to further look into the word Doubt as it applies to our spiritual lives; how doubt can lead to despair, and despair to death.

I know, I know, this sounds like a terrible subject for a Sunday morning. Last week we celebrated the resurrection of Christ, a joyful occasion, and the event that most gives us hope.

However, all is not good with the world, all is not good with our souls. We live in a world of conflict, a world of hope and a world of despair. This is not a dualistic matter though. It is more of a seesaw, where we are on the board above the fulcrum, balancing despair and happiness, a both-and condition, in our normal everyday life. The board is a place where we can slide back and forth, depending on the weight of our troubles or our happiness. Of course, most of us desire the condition of total happiness, where we slide to the end of the seesaw and fling our despair wildly into the air, catapulting the unwanted into oblivion. Sometimes that is how I describe Heaven, as a place where despair is banished, a utopia full of absolute and powerful love. I have felt that love, I know it exists, and I cannot wait to be immersed in it again. It exists folks, it is available to all who want to find it, seek, and you shall find, knock on the door and it will open. Once you realize that the world is not about you, that the body of Christ and the blood of Christ is us, then you can be one step closer to finding what I will call, True Love.

Yet, at the other end of the seesaw is the ominous, sometimes overbearing, weight of despair. When the weight grows and overpowers the happiness in our lives we can be catapulted into the dark. This leads me to a topic that some will find disturbing. A topic that is not pleasant, but one that needs to be discussed because ignoring the subject does not make it go away.

A couple of weeks ago, Palm Sunday night, my friend posted this on Facebook.

"Dear God, I know I’m a sinner, and I ask for your forgiveness. I believe Jesus Christ is Your Son. I believe that He died for my sin and that you raised Him to life. I want to trust Him as my Savior and follow Him as Lord, from this day forward. Guide my life and help me to do your will. I pray this in the name of Jesus. Amen."

When I read the post the next morning, I felt a feeling of dread, absolute dread. Something disturbed my sleep and I woke up at three in the morning. I tossed and turned and it wasn’t until about five that I read the post. By then, I believe it was too late. My brother called me later to relate the events as best known in our small hometown. My friend had gone to his mother’s grave, sat down, and ended his life.

My friend was well liked by all; at his funeral, his coworkers described him as a wonderful cook, a man that they called Teddy Bear because he was always giving hugs and cheering people up. He would literally give you the shirt off his back and no one saw this coming. There was no note, no explanations, just conjecture about a medical condition that caused him to be overcome with despair and flung him into the darkness.

We shared a love of antiques and world travel and we both dreamed of going to Borneo. An enchanting land of headhunters, leeches, and religious strife. An adventure that our mutual cousin had endured when shot down in WWII. Sadly, that dream will never be realized. As I sat in the church during the funeral, I asked God why he let this happen. Why to this wonderful and loving human. God, for his part remained stoic and supplied no answer.

I have known six people in my life that have taken their own lives. Two that I was close to and had shared good times. After they ended their lives there was a feeling of guilt. Could I have done something, why didn’t I recognize what was going to occur? How can people like my friend, happy go lucky and joking people be full of despair and no one recognize the problem? Here is a quote from Groucho Marx that explains a little, ”The only real laughter comes from despair.” That is a heavy quote. Think about that later today.

So how does this relate to Thomas and doubt? Thomas did not kill himself, nor did the other Apostles, with the exception of Judas. Why did Judas kill himself? Was Judas full of remorse, did he have doubts about his betrayal? Doubt can be that fork in the road, one that can lead us to darkness in the case of Judas, or we can chose the other path and head towards the light. As Khalil Gibran wrote, “Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that Faith is his twin brother.” Yet doubt can take us on a journey, a journey of seeking the truth and for answers. Faith is the road to light, and despair is the other path, a path to darkness. Judas did not have faith, while the other Apostles and Disciples did. Doubt resides with us as we slide back and forth on the seesaw of life.

The suicide rates in this country are staggering and increasing. The Center for Disease Control keeps track of the causes of death. Suicide is the second leading cause of death starting at ten years old through the thirty-something. I find that statistic very depressing. Then I realize the headlines I see about bullying, and violence, wars, and disease. Watching the news, I wonder why anyone would have hope.

How has the church responded to the issue of suicides? The early church decided to declare it a sin and refuse Christian burial to the victims. In 1882, the Anglican Church decided to allow the victims to be buried in church graveyards, and only in 2015 did the Anglican Church vote to allow a fully Christian burial for victims of suicide. I read a poll on April 7, 2018 that asked people if a normal burial service should be allowed and 16% said no. Clearly there is still work to be done in teaching mental health awareness and forgiveness. For each victim of suicide, for each victim that is so overwhelmed that they can find no hope; Jesus waits with open arms. He alone can bring them into light. Our mission is not to judge but to forgive.

What can we do about the problem? Brothers and sisters, we are members of the Body of Christ. As such, we are our brother’s keeper. If a brother or sister comes to you for help, then do not turn them away. Most of us are not mental health experts, but we can all listen, and we can all help them find professional help. We have to be open to helping each other, Christ turned no one away, no one!

I volunteer in a residential home for the mentally ill. I have listened to men and women tell me their stories. None of them have given up hope, despite the tribulations they face. Most are happy to talk about their problems with someone who will listen without judgment. That is what Stephen Ministry is all about. Even if you don’t think you could handle being a Stephen Minister or have the time to do weekly visits, I think each one of us can benefit from the Stephen Minister training. Our job as Christians is to carry the love and compassion of Jesus into the world. As the Apostle Paul said, “They will recognize us as we show our love for one another.” The standard saying is that we should be the hands and feet of Christ in the world. I say we should be the entire body of Christ in the world. Share the love of Christ, pray unceasing prayers, and forgive those who have wronged you. Ask for, and be willing to receive the Shalom of Christ Jesus, and share that Shalom with the world.

I will leave you with the ending of a hymn you may find familiar and a prayer from the New Zealand Book of Common Prayer.

Thou our Father, Christ our Brother,
all who live in love are Thine:
Teach us how to love each other,
lift us to the Joy Divine.

Living God,

For whom no door is closed.

No heart is locked,

Draw us beyond our doubts,

Till we see your Christ

And touch his wounds

Where they bleed in others

Shalom

Suicide

2018-03-22T15:49:00.000-07:00

The title sits all by itself … Alone, one word, Alone, not supported by any other words, Alone, with no direction but inward. The statistics for suicide are frightening and depressing. Please follow this link for some insight into the magnitude of the problem, an issue that is becoming worse in our society. https://afsp.org/about-suicide/suicide-statistics/

A few days ago, a friend took his own life. The despair he felt must have been overwhelming. The warning sign was given late at night, when most were asleep, an ominous posting on social media. A few years ago a young woman who had played violin at my wedding when she was a child, took an overdose of prescription drugs and died. Both were victims of depression, a debilitating disease, and make no mistake, depression is a disease. Both were talented and bright individuals and loved by many. One was a middle-aged man the other a twenty-something young woman. Probably the only thing in common between them was depression.

These beautiful human beings descended into a darkness so suffocating that they thought the only solution was to kill themselves. They left behind families and friends that grieve and feel full of guilt. The guilt that says, “Could I have helped, why didn’t I notice, what if I had been a better friend, a more caring lover, a more attentive parent. The truth is that even if we met all those criteria, the depression would most probably have won and the result been the same. Most of us are not trained mental health professionals and are not equipped to prevent someone from taking their own life. The pain ends for the victim and begins for the new victims. For the survivors are the new victims.

This link is to the story of Eric Kramer, an NFL quarterback who attempted suicide and lived to tell about it, something rare among gunshot victims. https://www.freep.com/story/sports/nfl/lions/2016/05/21/erik-kramer-detroit-lions/84657892/

Unfortunately, I have known a few friends and a coworker who have committed suicide. Each time I wondered if I could have done anything, much self-examination told me there was nothing I could have done, yet that does not stop the feeling of guilt. Why do I know this? Because every damn day, every day, I think about doing the same thing. And every day I look for a reason to go on. I hang on by a thread, just a thread. All we can do is to become better listeners and observers. Sometimes the depressed individuals exhibit behaviors that are warning signs and some will even threaten suicide, a threat that should be taken seriously. Some people are good actors and hide their pain behind a bright and cheerful smile. Compassion in American appears to be in decline, we have become a bitter, greedy, self-absorbed society, and the innocent suffer. However there are people who care, help exists, if you or a loved one is thinking of suicide please call a suicide hotline like this one: 1-800-273-8255

Toys R Us

2018-03-16T07:26:00.000-07:00

Nothing in a child’s life compares with the adrenaline rush of stepping into a toy store. The news that Toys R Us is going out of business drove me into a fit of nostalgia so strong I thought I would descend into melancholy. So many memories emerged from deep inside, they flashed by so fast I had to stop and hit rewind a few times. Once second I encountered a memory from my distant childhood, the next a memory from my daughter’s childhood, and then my granddaughter’s first time in a toy store.

I have a memory of a small redheaded boy in a shopping cart throwing a temper tantrum that only a redhead could throw, over a toy that is lost to time. I remember being with my great-grandmother and mother as we shopped in Wolf and Dessauer in Fort Wayne. I do not remember the particulars of why I threw the tantrum and the memory is strange in that it is from the viewpoint of someone looking at me, almost as if someone else’s memory has been transplanted in my brain. I suppose the memory took on a life of its own, trapped deep inside my brain with nothing to do but imagine.

When we lived in Florida my daughter was born and it wasn’t toys that sent me to Toys R Us, but something more practical—diapers for my baby. I would make a weekly trip to the store and immediately head to the back to where the diapers resided. As time went by the diapers increased is size in proportion to my daughter. At first, as I would head down the aisle to the diapers I would look at the toys and imagine my daughter playing with them someday. Later as she got older, I would stop and purchase a doll or something educational and bring it home with the diapers—fathers love to spoil their daughters.

Recently I took my granddaughter to Toys R Us for the first time. I smiled and relished in her delight as she scampered about from toy to toy, from aisle to aisle, overwhelmed with indecision. Fifty-five some years after a little redheaded boy threw a fit in Wolf and Dessauer, his redheaded granddaughter had the opposite reaction. I helped her make a decision and we happily left the store. The loss of Toys R US will be to me as calamitous as the loss of Wolf and Dessauer. As we bid adieu to Toy R Us let me say one thing. Thank You!

The Mystique of the Antique

2018-02-21T16:03:00.000-08:00

A quick stroll through my favorite Antique mall brought forth a wealth of emotion. About twenty-five years ago, I discovered the pleasure of antique malls and antique collecting. There is something calming about wandering around in an antique mall, surrounded by the relics of recent past.

I spy an old record album propped up against a stand. It is set apart from the other hundred or so albums, set aside perhaps by another veteran like myself. Navy Music is the title of the album. I am a Navy veteran so of course the cover piqued my interest. I picked up the album and read the cover. The music brought back memories, mostly good, the bad faded away in the wash of time. I thought about my roommates in Scotland, Chip, and Karl, from a time long ago, over thirty-three years ago, making my memories antiques themselves. I placed the album back where I found it, but the memories remained, happy and sorrowful, old yet fresh.

The next booth contained two parrot figurines. Now who had these parrots belonged too, what kind of person went into a shop and decided they just had to have the parrots for their house? My imagination took flight and I thought of all sorts of bird-brained possibilities. Perhaps a child coerced their mother or grandparent into purchasing the porcelain birds. Mayhap an actual bird fancier purchased the beautiful statues, relishing in the beauty without the noise and upkeep. Briefly, I considered adding the lonely and lifeless parrots to my non-collection of birds, and then thought better and wandered to the next booth.

Furs, jackets, coats, and stoles adorned the racks in the next cube of goods. Who wore these items? Were they rich, rich wannabes, posers, all the stereotypes crossed my mind. What if a PETA person found this setup, would they have a conniption fit, buy all the furry items, and then have a bonfire. A better ending would see the outfits bought by a local theater group. Nothing of interest here, move on sir.

The next area revealed a shadowbox-like setting with a full arrangement of fifties furniture. The family inhabiting the chairs and sofa were actually in my mind and not present physically. The love, anxiety, and togetherness flitted through my thoughts until I saw the old television. The television set evoked a time when my father and I ventured to the local drug store to use their tube tester. We tested our tubes, a time consuming process for an impatient ten year-old and eventually discovered the bad tubes and bought the replacements. We were so proud of fixing the television, a source of entertainment for our entire family.

Another exhibit contained numerous tools, some so old that I didn’t have a clue what they did. A butter churn I could understand. A scythe was either the implement of a harvester or the Angel of Death, neither of whom were there to demonstrate how to use the implement. Most, if not all, of the items have been replaced by power tools. Our time is much too valuable to be wasted on making things by hand. Alas, the items made by hand seem to last decades longer than the ones made by machine.

The final booth was a potpourri of clocks. One clock in particular jumped out at me and spoke to me of a time past, a time when my Father was alive, a time so long ago that the memories must be wound up on occasion to keep them viable. A simple Miller Lite Beer clock brought back the occasion when my Father, Brother, and I went to the local bar when the Miller Lite Distributor was having a trivia night with loads of prizes. A trivia buff, I had no problem defeating the legion of bar flies, okay two or three people, and we walked out with more items than we knew what to do with. This particular type of clock had been in my procession for twenty some years until I gave it to the goodwill. This might have been the same clock. Regardless this clock contained my memories and that made it a treasure.

I left the antique mall feeling more melancholy then when I entered. A mellow melancholy, be there such a thing, mellow because I felt both joy and sadness. One brief trip conjured up the memories of my Father and my two roommates from Scotland. All are deceased, yet they reside in my heart, and my memories, and as long as I am alive, they remain among the living.

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The Assault Rifle

2018-02-17T14:14:00.000-08:00

Another day has gone by since the Feb 14 shooting in Florida and we are a day closer to the next massacre. The right-wing nuts are still saying, “guns don’t kill people, people kill people.” Which to me is an absurd line of reasoning and the part that galls me is we think the gun is some innocent pawn in the game of killing. The AR-15 is an assault rifle. It is not a toy, it is a killing machine designed for one single purpose –killing a human being.

A car driven by a drunk driver can be a killing machine, but that is not the original intent of the designers of the automobile. The rifle was designed to kill and it really doesn’t care who pulls the trigger, be it a deranged maniac, a toddler, an estranged lover, or a soldier.

If you need a weapon for self-defense, and in today’s messed up society that might be the case, then get a shotgun or pistol. An assault rifle is not needed unless a platoon of miscreants is coming up your driveway.

Assault rifles were banned for a time during the Clinton administration. Guess what … the world did not invade the USA because we were under-armed. I am all for hunters having their rifles and shotguns. I am for pistols and revolvers for personal protection. I don’t think the average person needs an assault rifle any more then they need a Rocket Propelled Grenade or Stinger missile. Although given the current state of moral deficit and willingness to accept NRA blood money, who knows what will be legal the day after tomorrow.

The Preacher in Me

2018-02-16T08:10:00.002-08:00

When I was thirteen years old, I heard a sermon at the small Primitive Baptist Church I attended with my great-grandmother. The congregation took a break for lunch and I ventured outside to play with the other kids, of which there were only about five. I remember, very distinctly, thinking that I wanted to be a preacher when I grew up. Then the shyness which I was afflicted with, or gifted with according to some, gathered itself up and strongly protested, saying there was no way I would could get in front of a crowd and speak. The shyness won the battle, but not the war.

Another forty or so years would pass by before I gathered up the courage, or should I say the Holy Spirit’s inspiration overcame my shyness, and I preached my first sermon. I was amazed and perplexed that I spoke so easily, no hesitation or nervousness. What I discovered is that when you speak the truth, speak in love, and speak with humility, then like Paul, you can speak with a voice given power by the Holy Spirit.

Before I traveled on my first mission trip to the Dominican Republic, I had a feeling, a tugging at my brain, perhaps my conscience that fed in me a desire to do something for others, to participate in something greater than myself. And so I overcame my natural inclination to stay home and watch television and ventured forth with a group of people I did not know, to a land I knew nothing about. That venture changed me and changed me forever.

On the second mission trip, I had an epiphany. I encountered a force of love so strong it brought me to my knees and made me cry in joy and ecstasy. The life-changing event happened at the church we were building and it was so powerful I hid from my companions. Perhaps that was why Jesus wandered off to be alone with the Father, because it is so overpowering and emotional that you don’t want others to interrupt.

Upon my return, I entered into a process to become an ordained Deacon, even though I wanted to be a priest. Alas, I seemed to have been misguided, I did not complete the process, nor was it a good experience. After a few years of meditation, questioning, and praying, I concluded, rightly or wrongly, that God did not want me to be bound to the church, because the church has rules. Where there are rules there must be enforcers, where there are enforcers there is power, and power corrupts. Better to be beholden to God and not the church.

What God wants I believe is someone preaching like a prophet, free to say what the Holy Spirit wants me to say, following sometimes a proscribed doctrine rather than a prescribed doctrine. Seek and you shall find. Look for the truth in all things. If it comes easy, then it is probably a false truth. Isn’t it easier to judge someone and call them names rather than help them?

While I was going through the process to become a Deacon a friend asked me how I felt about the mentally ill. I confessed that they scared me. I was being truthful, I did not know how to cope with mentally ill people, and I was ignorant. But ignorance, unlike stupidity, can be cured with education. With the help of my wife, who is a social worker, I took some online classes to learn about various mental illnesses. Then I volunteered as a non-denominational worship leader at a local home for the mentally ill.

After the first couple of meetings, my preconceptions were challenged and I changed. I wanted to talk about meditation and one man told me he couldn’t because if he calmed his mind the voices would come in and say things. I did some research and corresponded with a psychotherapist and found out that was true. Over the months, the meeting evolved into a session where we read the scripture, sing, and talk. Talk about all subjects. The mentally ill are like most people, what they desire is to be heard, to be listened to, and cared for by another human being. They desire love more than all else. What I also discovered is that they know they are mentally ill, they remember a time when they weren’t, and they grieve for their current condition.

So today, I am a preacher, a minister, and a follower of Jesus. The path has been long and arduous, I have been crucified and resurrected, and I will not be still in the face of evil.

Another Week of Violence and Another Rant

2018-02-14T17:32:00.000-08:00

Here we go again, another week, another school shooting. This is not a normal society. This is not a civilized country. This is not a Christian nation. This is the result of a brainwashed, heartless, and morally bankrupt society. A country where the self-righteous religious fundamentalists will cry about abortion and remain silent about the carnage on our streets and in our schools. A country where the president worries more about supporting racism than he does about helping the mentally ill. A country where our politicians accept money from the NRA and then like puppets on a string, refuse to address the issues. A country where the standard cliché and catchphrase has become thoughts and prayers. What have we become? Where do we go from here?

The rich, insulated in their gated communities, fat off the spoils of other people’s labors, could care less. The rich, who never seem to have enough, have engorged themselves in a wealth of hypocrisy. The rich, twice in the last one hundred years have driven this country and the world downward into a depression and a recession. Then they have the audacity to blame the poor, always the poor, those eternal scapegoats, those who cannot defend themselves. Only the poor commit violence. I imagine the group in Mar Largo is having a prayer session and laughing it up with their God Mammon.

Ask yourself, who wins from this violence, who wins from selling weapons? Not the poor freaking hillbilly that owns fifty rifles and shotguns because he thinks that will save him from enemy. Who is the enemy? The military-industrial complex wins and they rule the country, just as Eisenhower warned us in his Cross of Iron speech. We did not listen then and we will not listen now. Where do you think ISIS got their weapons? They didn’t grow them, but that is the subject for another rant.

In the end, at least until he is a radioactive cinder, Putin wins. His puppets will destroy this country and at the same time convince us that it is our own fault. HE is correct though, it is our fault; our arrogance and our hypocrisy are driving this country to the brink of the abyss.

We are not a Christian nation, not even close. If Christ set foot one foot in this nation and preached for the safety of immigrants, for the rights of women, for the abolition of guns, what do you think would happen? I know what would happen, he would be beaten, thrown in a private prison, and crucified. It is a never-ending story.

Oct 8 Sermon on Violence

2017-10-08T11:28:00.001-07:00

Violence

The sermon today is about violence. I could go on and on for hours like a Fire and Brimstone preacher, however Father Matthew said to keep this under an hour. So fifty-nine minutes it is. I think I just caused a violent reaction amongst a lot of you.

Thoughts and prayers, thoughts and prayers, many times in the last few years have we heard this phrase uttered from the lips of politicians and now-a-days, more-often-than-not tweeted. Sandy Hook, Columbine, Las Vegas, and many more tragedies that we have watched play out on the Internet and on television. Jesus Wept is the shortest verse in the Bible. The New Testament was written close to two millennia ago and I am here to say that Jesus has not stopped weeping.

Even in the Gospel we read today about the vineyard and the absent owner. Violence abounds even to the point of killing the owner’s son. When Jesus talks about the owner, he is referencing God. We know that Jesus is the owner’s son and he was crucified. We live in a violent world, a world full of trials and tribulations and peace seems but a distant dream. Will the Lord come back to remove the tenants from the vineyard (Earth).

In one of the most famous stories of the Bible, Jonah is sent to Nineveh to proclaim the word of God and demand repentance. The King of Nineveh took this to heart and proclaimed ”Let everyone call urgently on God. Let them give up their evil ways and their violence. Who knows? God may yet relent and with compassion turn from his fierce anger so that we will not perish.”

God was pleased and changed his mind about destroying Nineveh. However, Jonah wasn’t pleased and became angry with God. The ensuing conversation between God and Jonah is very good and I would encourage all of you to pick up your Bible and read and meditate on the dialogue between Jonah and God.

Violence has been a part of man since Cain slew Abel. Wars have been almost non-stop since we were cast out of the Garden.

The United States has boasted that we are a peaceful nation. How so? I read an article that said we have been at war 93% of our short existence. I found that hard to believe but when I did some research, I was dismayed to find it true. If you take into account the major wars, it doesn’t seem like we have truly been at war that much. But if you look at all the Indian wars, the small conflicts overseas, rebellions, and such the facts are true.

It seems we revel in war. If you resist you are labeled unpatriotic and may be thrown in prison. If you protest you are labeled as un-American. Our movies and television shows are full of violence. Video games promote violence. Violence breeds violence!

My father was a police officer in Fort Wayne. I was raised around guns and violence. As far as I know he was only shot at once and when he recounted the event to me I was horrified. When I was about nine years old, I received a BB gun for a present. I went out in the woods with a friend and I saw a cardinal perched in a tree. I took careful aim and with the first shot, I bagged my first and only kill.

I approached the small bird, lying in the snow, blood oozing out of his small body and I was overcome with a feeling of utter shame. I cried at the taking of his life and I have never been able to “hunt” again. For my thirteenth birthday, I received a 22-caliber rifle. I did not hunt, but I did shoot targets. This did not stop me from trying to kill a big husky that was attacking my little hound dog late in my teenage years. As I reflect on those episodes, I understand the difference between violence caused by anger and violence because of a lack of compassion.

During the period of my life when I lived in Miami, I was called to jury duty for a murder trial. When twenty-eight of us were marshaled into the courtroom for our initial questioning, I was shocked. Why? Because the first question asked by the defense attorney was, “How many of you or how many of your family, have been victims of violent crime?” Over half the hands went up and those people were dismissed from the jury. Over half … think about that.

Our early church, before Constantine was pacifist. Origen said that Christians "do not go forth as soldiers.” Tertullian wrote "only without the sword can the Christian wage war: for the Lord has abolished the sword.” Clement of Alexandria wrote "... he who holds the sword must cast it away and that if one of the faithful becomes a soldier he must be rejected by the Church, for he has scorned God."

This changed in the time of Constantine - the Council of Arles in 314 said that to forbid "the state the right to go to war was to condemn it to extinction,” and shortly after that, Christian philosophers began to formulate the doctrine of the Just War. We haven’t stopped since.

Violence, most of the time, is a result of anger. Why the anger? I am not immune, you are not immune, we are all human and we all experience anger. Jesus himself overturned tables and whipped the moneychangers in the temple. That I suppose could be called righteous anger. My anger is more the,” Did you see what that idiot just did. He ran a red light, the moron.” Hank taught me to say, “in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,” whenever I had a bout of road-rage. I confess I have called out the Holy Trinity more times on the road than I have in church.

This though is the key to reducing violence. The violence exists in each one of us because we are not at peace with ourselves. So how do we become more peaceful? WHEN we come to the realization that CHRIST, exists inside each of us. We need to recognize the Christ in us as illustrated by Thomas Merton.

Oh God, we are one with you. You have made us one with you. You have taught us that if we are open to one another, you dwell in us. Help us to preserve this openness and to fight for it with all our hearts. Help us to realize that there can be no understanding where there is mutual rejection. Oh God, in accepting one another wholeheartedly, fully, completely, we accept You, and we thank You, and we adore You, and we love You with our whole being, because our being is in Your being, our spirit is rooted in Your spirit. Fill us then with love, and let us be bound together with love as we go our diverse ways, united in this one spirit which makes You present in the world, and which makes You witness to the ultimate reality that is love. Love has overcome. Love is victorious

Now I would like us all to do a little exercise. I promise you this won’t last long. Please take ahold of the hand of the person on each side of you. Then close your eyes. Take a deep breath and hold it, feel your heart beat, feel the touch of the people around you. Slowly exhale. Now together say, I recognize the Christ in me. Now open your eyes and looking around say, I recognize the Christ in you.

That wasn’t hard was it? How did that make you feel? I think, I believe, that for a bit anyway, Jesus stopped weeping.

Anger management, is I think, a major factor in reducing violence. Remember though, that there are some that would manipulate our tendency to violence for their own ends and if anyone tells you to hate, resist.

When we stop for a second and realize that Christ is in each one of us, how can we hate. Removing our anger is probably not entirely possible, but reducing our anger to manageable levels is. It takes practice and it takes commitment.

Christ is the cornerstone upon which our church is built. Christ is about love, peace, and even righteous anger. But I am here to tell you if your anger is based on greed, envy, pride, hate, and racism, it is not righteous. If you want to get into a fight because someone cut in line at the movie theater … it is not righteous. If you want to fire photon torpedoes at the guy in front of you who is driving to slow, it is not righteous.

John 16:33 “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world, you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

Today, when we pass the peace, I would like us to say Shalom to each other. Mean it, own it, and let the Shalom of Jesus pass from us and through us. Let the Shalom of Jesus reside in us and radiate from us.

2017-04-23T17:12:00.000-07:00

Sermon given at St Michael and All Angels Church on 4/23/2017

Doubt

“Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”

How many of us would have said the same thing? How many of us have doubts about our faith? In his book Jesus, the Son of Man, Kahlil Gibran has a brief chapter on Thomas and he describes doubt as this, “Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother.”

Think about that for a minute, “doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother.” When I read the passage it spoke to me about my own pain, my own doubts, whether it is about my faith or me. Doubt is indeed painful and lonely. How does your own doubt make you feel?

Do you doubt your abilities, do you doubt the direction of your life, or do you doubt you will be forgiven for your sins. Doubt is a powerful and debilitating emotion or paradoxically it can be good if it changes our path in life. Doubt can keep us from realizing our potential, our God given gifts. Doubt can also be good, when it makes us question the direction or meaning in our life.

I have my own doubts, one of them being the doubt that if I made this sermon twenty minutes long any of you would remain awake. Be still and know that I am God is great for meditation but not so great for preachers.

I don’t want you to be still. I want you to fidget in your pews, to question, to think, to doubt. Because if you doubt, then you will ask questions, and if you are asking then you are seeking, and Jesus tells us, “seek and you shall find.”

Doubt can lead us into despair and despair can lead us to make drastic decisions that affect not only ourselves but others as well. But if we embrace our doubt and acknowledge it as part of our shadow self, then we can see that it is a natural part of our existence.

When we are children we want to believe, we take everything at face value and believe everything our parents tell us. That is faith. I think we are born with open and loving hearts, then the world instills doubt, and we lose our innocence. Once again I will quote from Gibran, “Faith is a knowledge within the heart, beyond the reach of proof.”

Yet, if faith resides in us as some secret knowledge then why do we have doubt? Is doubt really the lonely twin of faith? Perhaps, and let me throw this out there, perhaps God wants us to have doubt. Now Jesus admonished Thomas to believe, but he did not punish him for his doubt. Indeed, he showed him the truth.

And I believe that doubt drives us forward. With doubt comes a choice. Without doubt, I believe we become complacent. Jesus said seek and you shall find. However, Jesus did not say that the truth would be easy to find. I don’t think we can ever stop seeking God. God wants to be found.

The journey to find him can be a lifetime experience of pain and joy, of gladness and sorrow, of doubt and of faith. All are part of the puzzle, all are pieces of God, and when we realize that God is all things, and that we are part of God, and God is part of us, the journey becomes more exciting, more meaningful, and we come to the realization that the truth is there, waiting and wanting to be found.

Last year the Pope, a man I admire, had this to say about doubt,” Everyone experiences doubts about the faith at times - “I have” many times, but such doubts can be a sign that we want to know God better and more deeply.”

“We do not need to be afraid of questions and doubts because they are the beginning of a path of knowledge and going deeper; one who does not ask questions cannot progress either in knowledge or in faith.”

Faith can be exhilarating, freeing, and comforting. Now Thomas had faith in Jesus long before this. In fact, earlier in the Gospel of John, Jesus tells his disciples he is going to Lazarus. The disciples were afraid because the people had been ready to stone Jesus when he previously visited Lazarus and his sisters. But Thomas, alone amongst the disciples showed his devotion by saying to the others, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

Now if you have a questioning mind you might ask, “Where was Thomas during the crucifixion? I have no answer for that. Perhaps when encountering the real thing Thomas, as well as all the disciples but the beloved one fled and hid. Certainly, later in his life Thomas lived up to his pledge, as he died a martyr in India.

The Apostle Thomas ventured to India to preach to the Jews who had small colonies on the east coast. Eventually he converted many High Caste Hindus and was martyred with a spear. The story is very interesting and I would ask you to do some investigations of your own. The Mar Thoma Syrian Church in India claims as its heritage that is was started by Thomas the Apostle of Christ in the year 52 and the church is part of the Anglican Communion.

So, what caused Thomas to change his mind and believe? Jesus came back and did as Thomas asked. When he showed Thomas the wounds he said, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.”

Thomas replied, “My Lord and my God.”

Then Jesus says, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

Those passages pretty much sum up the relationship between faith and doubt. Thomas wanted to believe, but desired proof; perhaps because he loved Jesus so much he wanted to see him again. When Herod, the Priest and Scribes, and others demanded that Jesus prove he was the Son of God, he would offer no proof. But when his apostle asked, he freely gave proof.

Ask and you shall receive, demand and you may be met with silence. Ask with love and you shall receive, demand with wickedness and you shall probably receive nothing.

Poem by the Reverend Ted Loder, a Methodist Minister, and a man who marched with Martin Luther King, Jr.

God … are you there?

I’ve been taught,

And told I ought

To pray.

But the doubt

Won’t go away.

Yet neither

Will my longing to be heard.

My soul sighs

Too deep for words.

Do you hear me?

God … are you there?

I will leave you with this collect from the New Zealand Book of Common Prayer.

Living God,

For whom no door is closed.

No heart is locked,

Draw us beyond our doubts,

Till we see your Christ

And touch his wounds

Where they bleed in others

Publishing

2016-07-23T06:35:00.001-07:00

I am still navigating my way around the self-publishing world. The paperback version of Hook and Claw has now been released on Amazon and Create Space. Here is a link to the Createspace page where the book may be purchased: https://www.createspace.com/6392312

Writing the book was a long labor of love. At the time I was working on my Master's Thesis and my endeavor was to incorporate as much of the knowledge I gathered from all my classes into the novel.
So the novel encompasses Film Noir, History, Native American Lore, and Sociology. I hope you enjoy reading the book as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Racism, Politics, and Guns

2016-07-08T06:35:00.001-07:00

ON GUNS

The events of the last few days are very troubling, very troubling indeed. Police killings of innocent black men and the resultant backlash and killings of innocent police officers. What is it in this country that stirs up such hate.

The NRA for better or for worse sanctions the wholesale distribution of guns and could care less about the resulting carnage. A gross misinterpretation of the constitution, money for corrupt politicians, and the promotion of fear leads to a society that has begun the transition back to the Old West, where guns abound and justice was served by posses and lynch mobs. I fear for the future of my country, my children, and our world. Jesus said those that live by the sword will die by the sword. Substitute gun for sword and you have our future.

I am not, repeat not, against guns. In this day and age a gun may be required for survival and unless we become a totalitarian country our guns will remain. What I would like to see is gun training, stiffer background checks, psychological testing, and a required insurance policy for owning a gun. Don't be an idiot like Ted Nugent and think we need to arm ourselves against the government. Last I checked an Ar-15 did not stack up very well against an Abrams tank. If it comes to that point all hope will be lost anyway.

ON RACISM

Perhaps I am not qualified to talk about race. I am a white, middle-aged, Christian, veteran of the United States Navy. I served with all color and manner of people, I travelled to many parts of the world, I have seen prejudice, and have been a victim of prejudice. Unbelievable you say? Believe me, when you visit a country that does not like Americans you will come to understand. I learned Italian and Spanish to try and fit in to the cultures and it was a rewarding experience. Despite what the media portrays most people on this earth are like you and me, they want to eat, drink, breathe, and live. Most don't care about politics, stock markets, and power. The evil in the world make the headlines, feed the fear, drive the need for more guns and weapons, and seem to control our destinies.

I married a Mexican woman and my granddaughter is a member of the Potawatomi tribe. I am a lay preacher in the Episcopal Church and have been on many missions to the Dominican Republic. When a woman where I work found out that people in the Dominican Republic were black she looked aghast and said, "you like black people?" I replied with a WTF and said I like all people, we were all made from the same creator and only our own hubris has alienated us from each other. Yes, racism does exist and right in front of our noses.

My father was a police officer in Fort Wayne for twenty years. He never shot anyone even though he was shot at once (not by a black man, but by a Korean war vet who was a little nuts). What my father told me when I was young had a profound influence on me. We were talking about black folks and a recent incident where I was chased by a gang of black kids in school. My father told me, "there are bad folks out there sure, but for the most part people are good, no matter what their color." That has always stuck with me and I don't think I could represent God if I didn't believe that.

I could write more on the subject and probably will later. Racism to me is ignorant and evil ... period.

ON POLITICS

If there exists a subject almost as frightening and despicable as racism it is politics. This presidential election has brought out the worst in the Democratic party and the laughingstock called the Republican party. For the first time ever I contributed to a campaign and that was for Bernie Sanders. Did I think he had a chance, maybe an outside chance, but I found him to be a man of principle of high moral character, and a person genuinely concerned with the welfare of the people.

Now I am faced with a choice between a narcissist Trump or the arrogant oligarch Clinton. I distrust both, but I actually fear for our future with Trump. Must I pick between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea? Apparently so. For all my friends that believe the Fox News hyperbole that Obama ruined the country, show me your proof? George Bush and Dick Cheney started this country on the road to hell and we will probably never recover. President Eisenhower warned this country about the Military-Industrial complex and we ignored him. We now suffer the consequences.

However I do believe that the true downfall of our political system began with the Supreme Court decision that corporations are people. What a collection of educated idiots that band of merry fools is. I am beginning to think our country will not survive the next century, we believe the fear fueld media and seem to have lost the power of rational thought.

Just a few ramblings from a mad-as-hell middle aged man.

Paperback Writer

2016-07-08T05:52:00.003-07:00

The last couple of weeks I have been working on a print copy of my novel, Hook & Claw. The self-publishing world has become easier the last few years, which is a good thing. Of course this also makes it easier for any hack writer to come along and publish their works and that makes for a lot of competition.

I'm still researching the ins and outs of advertising, everyone wants your money, but not everyone delivers on their promises.

Publishing Articles that I wrote for Suite101

2016-05-03T17:16:00.000-07:00

Since the demise of Suite101, I have been sitting on articles that I wrote the last few years. I own the copywrite for the articles and at the moment all the links are dead to Suite. Some of the articles are based on information I obtained from reading biographies. However one hits closer to home and that is the article about Tom Capin. In my youth I was told of Tom Capin's adventures in Borneo after his bomber was shot down by the Japanese. I remember Tom visiting my grandmother's house, but I never heard him speak of his tim in Borneo. Later, when I became interested in writing I tracked down his widow, Betty, and spent the night at her house in Idaho. She was gracious in letting me read Tom's personal papers. Betty had married Tom at the start of the war and stayed in Fort Wayne with his parents. On occasion she would visit my Grandparents house and she told me stories of playing with my father when he was very young.

Tom was awarded the Order of the British Empire for his assistance with the Australian Commandos who rescued him. A true hero if there ever was one.

Hook and Claw has been released.

2016-04-29T13:12:00.002-07:00

Last week I finally got off my butt and published my book, Hook and Claw, on Amazon Kindle. I wrote the book a few years ago and sent out numerous queries to publishers. One of the publishers sat on the book for over six months, sending my work through various levels of readers until the final reader, obviously a malcontent, decided she did not like the voice or perhaps it was something else. Dismayed I put the book back into my electronic filing cabinet and tried to forget about it.

My muse however, would have none of that. Tickling my brain for over ten years she, and yes my muse is a she, finally pushed me into doing something. Perhaps it was my own indignation that said I could write better than ninety percent of the crap coming out on Amazon. Perhaps I am living a fools dream. Perhaps!

I wrote the book as a result of various classes I took in pursuit of my Master's degree from Indiana University. The classes included local history, Native American Literature, Film Noir, Creative Writing with Francis Sherwood, and the class that taught me critical thinking with Ken Smith. Dr Smith would become the sponsor for my Master's Thesis and with his help, constructive criticism, humor, and gentle suggestions, Hook and Claw came into being.

Dr Smith is one of those rare teachers with the ability to make you feel good about yourself as he delivers constructive criticism. Always searching the students motives for clues as to why the wrote a certain way, Dr Smith is a word sleuth of the utmost degree. Without his help I believe the book would have become a task instead of what it is, a work of love.

Someone once said that most author's works are underwhelming until the third novel. If that is the case I better get cracking and get another one under my belt before I write the "good one."

Fahrenheit 451: The Road

2015-01-29T16:32:00.001-08:00

Faith, Veterans, and Friends

2013-04-28T17:24:00.003-07:00

Yesterday I attended the funeral of the father of my friend Craig Buckles. Paul Buckles was plain and simple, a war hero. The children of Paul all performed a eulogy; a task though filled with love and remembrance, was also filled with tears. Paul fought under the command of General George S. Patton in France in late 1944. A member of the 161^st Combat Engineers, Paul, a Private First Class, took over for his commander when the officer fell to enemy fire. Under fire, Paul completed the mission of securing a bridge. Though wounded, Paul continued with their mission and thus was awarded the bronze star, and Patton took notice of Paul’s bravery and invited him to play cards.

All I really knew of Paul when I was growing up and getting in trouble with Craig was that he was a loving father. He had to be with the trouble that Craig and I routinely got into. I never knew the man until I listened to the children talk about all their wonderful memories of their parents both of whom are now deceased.

Paul’s pastor spoke of baptizing him a few years ago and how he had a deep and abiding love of Christ. The children told stories of Paul being saved numerous times during the war. Once he was sitting on a log with a friend eating the usual horrible GI food when a woman approached them from the woods and invited them to her house for a home-cooked meal. As the two soldiers followed her, they heard an explosion and ran back to the canteen. The canteen and most of the soldiers were obliterated and the log that Paul had been sitting on a few minutes earlier was ground zero for the German shell.

Craig described Paul’s visions as he lay on his deathbed. For two days, Paul would occasionally stare off into space and tell Craig how beautiful it was on the other side, the place where he was going. Craig also heard him talking to his deceased wife who Paul said was waiting in that beautiful place for him.

As a psychiatrist, Craig is trained to diagnose hallucinations. As a Christian, Craig also has a deep faith in Christ. Craig admitted that the visions could have been the wishes and hopes or a dying man, or it could indeed be visions of his ultimate destination. I prefer to believe as Craig, that Paul’s deep and abiding faith allowed him to see his new home.

I am reminded of Jack Cash, the brother of Johnny. Jack was mortally wounded in an accident at a sawmill. The fourteen-year-old older brother of Johnny also had a strong faith and wanted to become a preacher. On his deathbed, moments before his death, he became lucid and asked his mother if she could see the angels. Jack said he could hear them singing and it was beautiful. He died peacefully.

During my heart surgery and subsequent repair after I died in ICU, I also saw visions. I thought I might be hallucinating but I wasn’t under the influence of drugs since a narcotic would hurt my heart. I saw a group of women, dressed in old time clothes smiling at me and welcoming me. The feeling of peace was overwhelming. I believe and I believe strongly.