IN PURSUIT

I’M NOT SAYING that the pursuit of peace is insignificant or unworthy, just slipping toward insincere, or so it seems; but vital and essential.

Cynicism has always been in the battered bag of things that I allow to trip me up. Accelerating age seems to deepen and thicken it, along with my anger over prescription medicine advertisements on TV.

Still, I remain hopeful that peace in our hearts, in our families, and in our relationships will grow and grow. I would like to be optimisic about world peace but that nagging cynicism won't let me go there; particularly when the Pursuit of Peace is stamped official by being screenprinted on a backdrop behind high-positioned folk. So it seems the mission is handed over to those in pursuit of other things like power, domination, supremacy, or whatever satisfies their base hunger and lusts. All that just seems contrary to peace pursuance.

There are some things that some people may be ill-suited for, or maybe they're being dishonest with themselves, or maybe they are dishonest and just nearly-to-completely self-serving--their narcissism has killed any seed of imagination. Maybe, for example, someone wants a medal for peace-making so badly that they will cook up a crock of drama, masquerading as the greatest maker of peace of all the peace-makers ever.

It would be sort of like putting me in charge of guarding a cooling batch of no-bake cookies. I may boast of being a cookie guardian, but when it comes to keeping my hand out of the cookie jar, I'm weak, insatiable and lacking any moral backbone whatsoever. And there's a darker corner in here that makes me apathetic about whether anyone else gets a cookie or not.

Every single day I wear a Peace Sign pendant. I know all the words to John Lennon's song "Give Peace A Chance". One of my favorite passages is from the book of First Peter, chapter 3:

“Whoever wants to embrace life and see the day fill up with good, Here’s what you do: Say nothing evil or hurtful; Snub evil and cultivate good; run after peace for all you’re worth.”

— 1 Peter 3:10-11. The Message.

My favorite of the Beatitudes is #7: Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. --Matthew 5:9

Does all that make me a peace-maker? Not any more than wearing a badge that says, "ICE: International Cookie Enforcer" and telling people that I love cookies even more than Cookie Monster himself makes me a worthy guardian of the no-back cookies cookie jar.

Some may sense a tinge of hypocracy here: me acting like a peacenik while throwing little rocks at those who have the power to end conflicts but don't. Guilty your honor(s).

So how does one become a maker, sustainer, propagator and keeper of peace?

The wisdom seems to be in that verse: "Say nothing evil or hurtful; Snub evil and cultivate good; run after peace for all you're worth." After all; who doesn't want to "embrace life and see the day fill up with good"?

Here's a shot of Our Grands, last Christmastime, that season when we sing and remember the story about "Peace On Earth"! [Trying to pass my belief in the goodness, truth and beauty of PEACE on to the next generation.]

PEACE to you and yours.

PROPAGATE

MY MOTHER was a prolific propagator; of many things: encouragement, grace, advice, sincere interest, gossip (although she would call it by names such as concern and curiosity). But, let's start with her African Violets.

For the entirety of my years "at home" these things were everywhere that a bit of filtered light streamed into our house. She was an african violet evangelist. Any time a guest in our home would comment on her beautiful violets she would encourage, yea, implore them to take one home. Each one was handed over with a bit of advice: "Don't overwater, don't get the leaves wet, don't thank me for it that's bad luck, talk to it (the plant) each time you water it."

In the early years of our marriage, My Amazing-Missus and I took home and killed a succession of these picky, persnickety, delicate little pieces of fauna. Undaunted, she would give us another. When mom would come to visit we could count on her sticking her finger in the pot of each of our plants and her nose in our business--out of genuine love and concern and a bit of fretting. "It might be happier with a little more light." Was she talking about our plant or our marriage?

I read an interesting opinion piece about propagation. In this case it was not about plants and beauty, but half-truths, lies, misinformation and how fertile the ground is to receive these poison seeds of propaganda. Social media was getting a lot of the blame for the choking spread, but what about the increasing appetite for it? How do we seperate the wheat from the chaff so to speak?

Maybe, like an African Violet, bringing some of this stuff into the proper light will help me be better informed and and healthier.

You know what's wonderful? There are still so many voices of truth and goodness. They are not always the loudest in the room but they are there and they are consistent. Take our two daughters-in-law. They are propagators. Many of the plants we have in our home today came from them, including those that sit on my desk or hang in the window in a cool macrame hanger My Amazing-Missus made for me. Not only do they cultivate seeds and cuttings, but they give joy and care to everyone who enters their orbit including our GrandKids and their old in-laws; along with plant care tips.

It makes me grateful for the propagators of love and peace and joy throughout our world and culture. Where would we be without them these days.

I'm writing this in my journal right how: Propagate goodness, truth and beauty today.

---

The words of Jesus from The Gospel of Mark 4:3-9 The Message

“Listen. What do you make of this? A farmer planted seed. As he scattered the seed, some of it fell on the road and birds ate it. Some fell in the gravel; it sprouted quickly but didn’t put down roots, so when the sun came up it withered just as quickly. Some fell in the weeds; as it came up, it was strangled among the weeds and nothing came of it. Some fell on good earth and came up with a flourish, producing a harvest exceeding his wildest dreams.

“Are you listening to this? Really listening?”

---

PEW PEW PEW

IN THE CHURCH tradition I grew up in we didn't have reserved seats per se. There were no lettered rows and numbered seats like you would find at a concert or ballgame. But make no mistake: seats in a church have been claimed, if only by a binding understanding that says: this is the pew where I sit, always have, always will.

There may not be a rational explanation for someones seat choice like Sheldon's place on the couch in the apartment he shared with Leonard. Sheldon placed this location "in a state of eternal dibs". When Leonard questions him, he says: "Cathedra mea, regulae meae. That's Latin for 'my chair, my rules'".

As Sheldon explains to Penny, "In the winter that seat is close enough to the radiator to remain warm, and yet not so close as to cause perspiration. In the summer it’s directly in the path of a cross breeze created by open windows there, and there. It faces the television at an angle that is neither direct, thus discouraging conversation, nor so far wide to create a parallax distortion, I could go on, but I think I’ve made my point."

In one episode he even establishes his seat by putting it in mathematical terms: "In an ever-changing world, it is a single point of consistency. If my life were expressed as a function on a four-dimensional Cartesian coordinate system, that spot, at the moment I first sat on it, would be (0,0,0,0)."

While not that extreme, I do have a mostly unspoken claim on a few seats, I would say they are mine; but I share (if necessary).

There are two places to sit in my little study at home. One is an extremely comfortable gray leather swivel rocker and ottoman. This is where I watch movies, sports, reruns of Big Bang Theory, Seinfeld, and Frasier. I also sit there to listen to my lovely HiFi system. I read in that chair and take wonderful afternoon naps. The other chair is a black leather office chair. It was going to be cast out from the office I used at work, so I took it home when I retired. It's in rough shape but after years of sitting there it fits my backside like hand and glove (not O.J.'s though). It's here at my desk that I read the news, watch YouTube videos, and write: things like this blog post which I'm typing right now. Here's a photo.

Back to church. I too, have a certain spot on a certain pew there. Here's a photo of where I sit.

This spot is special to me for several reasons: Those beautiful stained glass windows are on the south side of the building. This time of year the tilt of the earth at the time of our morning service sends warm sunlight in. The windows around the sanctuary are a timeline of the life of Christ. Obviously this window represents the infant--the early days of The Light, the Word become Flesh.

At our church our hope is still there: in that message, and like the light that breaks through that colored glass, that message is the one that will change the world. I don't pretend to speak for our church, the congregation or the people who compose it. But, in the sermons and songs I hear, in the numbers of people who humbly give and serve, Christ is still alive and my hope is there. I fear that some have given up on the Good News to bring peace, to change the world. So, they've chosen instead to align with a religion of political power. I'm glad I have a place in a church with light and enlightenment, where an open mind is not something to condemn but to celebrate.

PARDON ME

SOMETIMES we get what we don't deserve. Sometimes we don't get what we deserve. We all do. Me, you, Hunter Biden, Donald Trump, all of us in varying degrees and means. I have a few thoughts on "pardons".

Let's start here. I'm a son and I'm a father. I'm using those credentials to have an opinion. Although I've never been president of anything, much less the U.S. of A., that hasn't stopped me from opinionating.

Should Joe Biden as president have pardoned a guy named Hunter Biden? No. (in my humble opinion). Should the president even have the power of pardons. Again, IMHO, no. If our political leaders were of sound character, humility and in possession of a strong, solid sense of accountability, then maybe: Yes. But...

Should Joe Biden as father to Hunter have offered a pardon. Yes. And I really believe that is what is behind this. As the father of two sons I would do anything and everything I could for them. Let's take an empathetic look. Joe had three children with his first wife--a girl and two boys. Tragically, a car accident took the life of his wife and daughter. Though badly injured the boys survived. Joe was not in the car. As a young adult, Beau died from brain cancer. Of the three, only Hunter is living today. Does the fact that Joe has lived with years of heartache give him a license to go overboard for the remaining son? For whatever reasons, Hunter has made a of mess of his life. Should he get what he deserves? Of course.

As a son growing up in the home of a grace-full father I received multiple pardons. Not the presidential ones of course, but the even better ones--the ones given from the unconditional love of a father. Were there consequences for my actions? Indeed there were. The father-pardon didn't remove the punishment. Like that time I was part of an organized crime ring in seventh grade. A plan had been hatched to steal pop from the Pepsi delivery truck at the grocery store during lunch break at school. Even though I was only an accessory to the crime I got swats at school, swats at home, and was forced to surrender my allowance for several weeks to pay back the Pepsi corporation for the stolen soda pop.

Maybe Joe could have said to Hunter, "Son, as your father I believe in you and I forgive you. But I will not as president use the power of a pardon as preferential treatment to serve my own good; even though my predecessor/successor has and will, time and time again."

Hunter should have told his dad upon hearing of his consideration of giving a presidential pardon, "Dad you've done enough for me. Your forgiveness is sufficient. Your belief in finding a seed of goodness still within me is enough. Don't bring the fire of criticism down on yourself for me. As my dad you're already giving me what I don't deserve."

It's that season again. The one where we celebrate the ultimate giver of pardons, where we remember the one who got what He didn't deserve so that we might have what we don't deserve.

“And the WORD became flesh and lived among us.”

— The Gospel of John