WORD

IF THERE ARE WORDS for this I'm not sure I can find them. Words are powerful. Words are peaceful. Words are honest and dishonest. They shape lies and truth. They heal and hurt. Whoever said, "Sticks and stones... but words can never hurt me," is full of [insert a couple of words here, or is it a compound word?]

How is it that for certain people, to be able to say: "what's-on-his-mind", it’s like a virtue or a license. "He just tells it like it is," seems to require that we let him off the hook for any affect the words might have.

Sometimes words can fall on deaf ears or they can be put into someone elses mouth. They can be misheard, unheard, misspoken, miscontrued or misunderstood.

Ever have to eat your words? On at least one occasion I had my mouth washed out with Lava brand soap by my grandmother for using a word that I'm pretty sure I had heard her use.

It's Christmastime. Time to remember Jesus was called The Word, that he existed in the beginning and that "the Word became human and made his home among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. And we have seen his glory, the glory of the Father’s one and only Son." John 1:14

That event actually happened. In flesh, bone and blood. It happened in a part of the world that is now strewn with flesh, bone and blood, in Gaza; less than 50 miles--away in a manger--where according to the song, the babe lay his sweet head.

When I think of the Nativity, the words of that heavy, heavy question in Lamentations comes to mind: “Does it mean nothing to you, all you who pass by?"

This is where it gets tricky for me. I am not one of those with a license to tell it like I see it. When I try, it seems I hurt feelings, alienate and infuriate. So I write these words cautiously and with trepidation. I should know how to do this. Back in school, I took and passed with flying colors a class called "Rhetoric".

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rhetoric
noun
--speech or writing intended to be effective and influence people
--the study of the ways of using language effectively

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This week, I went to the doctor for my annual check-up. I'm on Medicare now so the process is a little different. I had to complete a questionnaire. One section read something like: Do you ever feel sad, afraid, angry, etc.?

I started to impulsively check YES, but I was afraid my doctor might suggest a new pill, or support group. The tip of my pin drifted toward the NO square like a pointer pulling fingers across a Ouija board, but I couldn't mark NO. So, I checked YES and quickly prepared a sane and sensible explanation, words to ensure my doc and old friend that I had it all under control.

The fact is I do feel all of those things--not all the time, and I also feel happy, hopeful, courageous, and other good things. Maybe it has something to do with my age and emotional state, but I'm blaming most of the sad/afraid/angry stuff on the current state of things. I am so sick of cutural meanness, of dehumanizing speech, of the-end-justifies-the-means politics and religion. I'm depressed from the hostile takeover of christianity by far right fundamentalists. Their message of saving the soul of America while waving a banner stitched of their own power-greedy arrogance is demoralizing to me. They march lockstep behind people who demand loyalty to their ungodly authoritarianism. They claim to be doing all of this in answer to a call to follow the WORD-become-flesh, the one of whom the Apostle Paul wrote:

Is there any encouragement from belonging to Christ? Any comfort from his love? Any fellowship together in the Spirit? Are your hearts tender and compassionate? Then make me truly happy by agreeing wholeheartedly with each other, loving one another, and working together with one mind and purpose.

Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too.

You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had.

Though he was God,
he did not think of equality with God
as something to cling to.
Instead, he gave up his divine privileges;
he took the humble position of a slave
and was born as a human being.

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Maybe this year makes next year seem particularly fraught and fragile. It seems like fascists are strikingly stirred up. Ukraine, the Middle East, the environment, political hard-lining here at home, the border, the sensitive and growing situation of homeless camped along Main street of the town where we live.

Maybe it's actually just another year. Maybe there's been worse. Surely there's been better. I remember well Christmastime 1971. My mom's heart was breaking from the weight of it. The war in Vietnam was dragging on and on. Student deferments from the military draft had ended and I had my draft lottery number. One day I got home and was met by my mom with a letter addressed to me from the Selective Service System. She was literally shaking. I opened it to find that my number, 116, from the 1970 lottery had come up. I was to meet a bus in downtown Tulsa just before Christmas to travel to OKC to take a physical for conscription.

It was a horrible Christmas for her, but 1972 brought better days. The war waned and I didn't have to go after all. In June 1972, I married my Amazing-Missus, whom Mom dearly loved. What a difference a day or a few make.

It's Christmas Eve, 2023. I am leaning on promises. The same promises born with that little baby so long ago. Promises for peace, for justice, for deliverance. To borrow a few words from John Lennon:

“You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one.”

Merry Christmas.

I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW

OR CAN I?

Often in times like this I struggle for the right words to say. See, I want to say something... I don't want to say something that will offend, and these days, no matter what you say you're going to offend someone and set off a frenzy of frustration and rebuttal. So why not just keep my mouth shut and lay down my pen and paper? I think it's because, for me, I work through stuff by writing, erasing, underlining, striking through. Many times I wad up the paper and through it in the trash. Is silence better than strife?

Often I think about vantage point. If I'm going to judge or offer an opinion I need to look at the position I'm in as I do so. Am I speaking as one who seeks to follow the teachings of Jesus? If I say that do people assume that I'm one of those radical, religious, evangelical, "blessed", nut jobs because I live in a deep red state and grew up in a southern baptist church? Can I really see things clearly wearing the goggles of a white, male, bald, baby-boomer. Is there a vantage point that allows me to think and speak and act justly? Of course, I can't suspend completely who I am, how I've been raised, the color of my lens, but I can try.

I reached out to a dear friend, who is one of the sanest people I know. I asked him to share his words as sort of guest post on my blog. He consented and I'm letting him have the last word. Thank you Dr. Randall O'Brien for friendship and wisdom.

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After the emotions, comes thought:

*A THEORY of JUSTICE* Changes anyone???

(A theory, a book by John Rawls)

1. Who was John Rawls?

* A philosopher who taught at Oxford, Cornell, M.I.T. and Harvard.

* Famous for his Theory of Justice, and his book by that title, which sold 200,000 copies, and spawned 5,000 articles, papers, and other books (and counting).

2. What is Rawls’s Theory of Justice?

* Concerns SOCIAL JUSTICE.

* Rawls, essentially sees “Justice as fairness.”

* He establishes justice, or fairness, through a hypothetical “Veil of Ignorance.”

* Meaning? Meaning we imagine agreeing to the rules of society—fairness and justice—without knowing our place in society, our class, social status, assets, intelligence, etc, to which we might add race, gender, sexual orientation, abilities, or any other imaginable demographic.

In other words, what rules for a fair society would we write beforehand if none of us knew who we’d be in this world?

This “Veil of Ignorance” should lead to fair rules, and laws to enforce them.

3. So. Question: If we were to seek to form a more just society using Rawls’s theory, what changes would we make?

4. Let us remember: Justice is a coin with which we purchase peace.

5. With a tip of our hat to JFK, shall we acknowledge:

“Those who make peaceful change impossible, make violent change inevitable.”

Hope.

By Randall O’Brien

THE ROOM WHERE IT HAPPENS

STAY WITH ME FOR A MINUTE. This is one of those ideas that's clear in my mind, but I have difficulty in the explaining. Let's start with this:

Is it Art, or is it Craft? Maybe it depends on where its done. If it's done in a Studio; is it art? If it's done in a Shop; is it craft? Is that an oversimplification?

How about this: let's say a group of folks who share a kindred spirit meet in a coffeehouse to talk and read and sing about faith, life and beauty. Is that Church, or a gaggle of mis-guided liberals?

[Time for a shameless moment of grandfatherly bragging. This is, after all, About POPS. I can pretty much say what I want.]

Our oldest GrandGirl, Karlee, is a gifted dancer. One of this season's dances for her is in an ensemble. Their number is based on the musical "Hamilton", specifically the song, "The Room Where It Happens". It's a song about being where the important decisions are hashed and made. I've watched "Hamilton" on Disney+ and I have to say, without prejudice, that Karlee and her dance mates do a stirring rendition of the number.

that’s Karlee. there in the middle. the one being whispered to.

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Here's a sample from the lyrics:

No one else was in
The room where it happened
The room where it happened
The room where it happened
No one really knows how the game is played
The art of the trade
How the sausage gets made
We just assume that it happens
But no one else is in
The room where it happens.

I don't know that I've ever been in that metaphorical, political "room where it happens". I do have assumptions that there would a lot of posturing and power playing, compromise of opinions and ideas, along with compromise of values, morals and justice. But I'm just guessing [based on the insincere smiles on the participants faces and the knives in their backs as they exit the room.]

So, let's recount: we have studios, shops, coffeehouses, churches and those dark rooms in the bowels of politics [and by politics I mean all institutional politics, not just the governmental variety]. Let's add schools, bars, courtrooms, banks, libraries and retail. Picture the room and you have a pretty good idea of what happens there.

We have expectations about what happens in these places. We know not to take our dry cleaning to an ice cream shop. We also know that we might need to take our dry cleaning to the dry cleaners after visiting the ice cream shop.

Lets come back to Church--those buildings sitting on a corner somewhere in most every town, and in front of a graveyard along country roads. There was a time when most everyone claimed some affiliation with a church. As a matter of fact, applications for schools, clubs and some jobs had a line that asked: "Church preference?" [I remember once answering that question "Red brick", thinking I would be appreciated for my sense of humor.]

Now many of the old red brick churches are nearly empty these days. Should we be alarmed? Is "church", can "church", happen in other kinds of rooms?

We like to get off the Interstates when we travel. We've noticed that around these parts on the less-traveled roads a growing number of "cowboy churches". These are metal buildings that look like at one time they could have been a boot-scootin bar or a place where backyard storage buildings were manufactured. I guess you could say, with the exception of the very recognizable logo, the ubiquitous "life church.tv" is sort an architecturally non-distinguishable structure that could be a skating rink or antique mall.

Maybe this drift from steeples, stained glass windows and pipe organs is appropriate for worshipping a "God, who made the world and everything in it, is Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples made by human hands." --Acts 17:24

Can we assume that what happens in a room called a church is really church? All of my life, for the most part, the answer is yes (if I get to define church). My childhood is full of memories of community; community gathered for potluck suppers, Christmas pageants, Easter celebrations, singing and people serving. Some of those people volunteered to teach us about God and his only begotten Son. Was their theology "right"? Frankly my dear, I don't give a darn. What they did for us came from a caring, genuine love. And that's where the real lessons and the real gospel were.

Today, I fear that "church" has become something else, a political wedge and hammer distorting building blocks of goodness, truth and beauty into stones of dogma and twisted doctrine. I'm sad that politicians have taken to touting their faith in their campaign ads. It rings hollow like an empty church to me. All the politicizing, posturing and posing belongs elsewhere. Sometimes I wonder if we could still look at a church and know what happens in those rooms.

It's all morphing for sure. The pandemic and its quarantine showed us that church might be our living room, watching a sermon on YouTube. Church as we've known it is changing. I just hope we don't keep twisting the pursuit of faith to serve lower purposes.

I am optimistic. I am hopeful. When it comes to community and fellowship and the honest, kind pursuit of truth and understanding; lately, I've been in a few "rooms" where it happens.

WAIT UP FOR ME

I’m not afraid of THE dark. I am afraid of dark. That darkness that comes with dishonesty, mistrust, deceit, hate, disease… I am afraid of that dark.

We heard glass breaking and a woman screaming. I was eleven or twelve. It was a summer Saturday night, just beyond dusk. We were probably chasing fireflys. The screams were coming from the house next door to my aunt and uncle’s. We went closer for some reason. At that point the darkness was our friend. Then we could see the flames. Her house was on fire. We ran for help. Soon the night sky was split with flashing lights and sirens. I did not want to go to sleep that night. I could still smell smoke and hear that woman. If I closed my eyes, whatever other terrors the dark held might come. Maybe it was a child’s dose of PTSD. I dreaded nightfall for days and weeks after that.

Sometimes I still do.

As I’ve written before, I got a close look at the late 60s. I was in Detroit during race riots and in Washington D.C. during Nixon’s innaugural parade. I saw what went on behind the scenes at that event. It was a rock-hard contrast to the celebratory facade on the party side of the parade.

But this; this divisivness, this dehumanization, this darkness. Is it the demise of the dream?

I’m not fatalistic. I may be a cynic, maybe an accidental malcontent but I’m not a doomsday soothsayer. I know “the darkness hour is just before the dawn”. God gives us proof of that at least 365 times every year.

Still, just as my twelve year-old self dreaded the dark after that fire, my 60-something self despises the Dark in this current dumpster fire we call 2020. But I know this:

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

— Jesus

I know this empirically and existentially. I know it spiritually and faithfully, I know it for me and I know it for you. I know it in light and in dark. “Lord I believe. Help me with my unbelief.”

The story is told of Robert Louis Stevenson and his childhood fascination with lamplighters. Apparently back in the day of gas street lamps, a lamplighter, or leerie, would walk the streets with a ladder and torch, lighting the lights. Stevenson was a sickly kid and would stand at the window at dusk and watch the lamplighter. His father walked in his room one night and saw young Robert at the window. He asked him what he was looking at and Robert said, “I’m watching this man knock holes in the darkness.”

Louis would later write this poem.

The Lamplighter
Robert Louis Stevenson

My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky;
It’s time to take the window to see Leerie going by;
For every night at teatime and before you take your seat,
With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street.

Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea,
And my papa’s a banker and as rich as he can be;
But I, when I am stronger and can choose what I’m to do,
Oh Leerie, I’ll go round at night and light the lamps with you!

For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door,
And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many more;
And O! before you hurry by with ladder and with light,
O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him tonight!

Verse can be so illuminating.

A man named John Claypool was an inspiration to me. I heard John speak several times and have read his books. John contended that every human needs two things for emotional and spiritual survival: light and warmth. Light he said is illumination—being able to see something clearly and honestly. Warmth he said is companionship—someone at your side.

Verse can be so illuminating. It can also be warmth.

Read these lyrics from a song by Amos Lee. In fact, read them out loud. Then put on your very best set of headphones and watch Amos sing the song on this YouTube video.

When you cannot get to sleep at night
Taunted by that new daylight
When you just can't sleep before the morn
And you do not feel reborn

Wait up for me
Wait up for me
I'll be coming home
So you don't have to be alone

When you're lost out in this world
And you feel you've come undone

Wait up for me

“I will not leave you as orphans. I am sending a comforter. ”

— Jesus