The Myth of Damnation

I have three sons who are kind and intelligent, but one of them gave me fits when he was young.  He got into nearly every kind of trouble you can imagine and even spent three nights behind bars after doing something especially bone-headed.  My wife and I spent a significant portion of our free hours and sleepless nights wondering what to do about him, but never--not once--did we consider giving up on the kid. 

In fact, I was thinking of him when I wrote the following:

When I tell them, “Be careful,”

And my children nod in a way

That suggests more weighty thoughts

Are roaming through their heads,

Like: What’s for dinner?

A feeling emerges—

Spontaneous and irrepressible—

From the same place

Gratitude is born:

I loved them before they could walk,

And also before they could speak,

I can do no less now,

Though they seem deaf

To good advice.

Why do we believe a loving God would feel any differently?  To assume God damns His children is to believe He gives up on them.  I can't imagine what might have happened if we hadn't loved our son unconditionally and did everything in our power to effect a turnaround in his life.  As it now stands, he's working on a PhD in biology, specializing in the mechanisms that cause gene mutation.  He recently earned a National Science Foundation Honorable Mention.  I anticipate great things from him.

If being a father and grandfather has taught me anything, it's that children deserve our uncompromising love and devotion.  I refuse to believe in a God who doesn't feel the same way.  Play the video of my granddaughter below and tell me you disagree.

For Mormons Only (Update)

This is probably long overdue, as it's a sequel to a much earlier posting, which you can find at the following link.

It's no secret that I was against Proposition 8, the California voting measure that was meant to restrict the ability of gays to marry. I've tried to think of a way to say the following without seeming critical, but rather than mince words, let me simply relay what I believe to be factual developments regarding the initiative and my church.

In a way, the area where I live was a battle ground as it pertains to the LDS Church’s support of Prop 8.  My stake contains an extremely liberal and social-minded ward in Berkeley, where many of the members are university professors and other highly educated professionals.  However, the further inland one goes, the more conservative are the members.  The wards on the eastern border of my stake raised a lot of money to support Prop 8 and some of their youth groups were encouraged to go door-to-door to promote it.

My ward, Moraga, sits in the middle of the stake both geographically and politically.  After the election, our ward attempted to achieve a reconciliation among the divided membership.  Other wards tried to do the same.  Our stake president, seeing that there was a problem, went from congregation to congregation with a message that I found comforting (I had stopped going to church, but a number of people had told me that I should attend this special meeting).  Of his many comments, here are a few that stand out for me.  First, he said his remarks had been approved at the highest levels of the LDS church.  Second, he said that being gay was "unbidden," a term I like.  What he meant by it is that people don't invite same sex attraction into their lives.  In fact, he said it was obvious to him that no actively engaged member of the church would ever choose to be gay, given the difficulties such a decision engenders.  This is as close to an admission that homosexuality is not a choice that I've heard from an ecclesiastical leader.  Third, he said the church no longer recommends gay members to "just get married" with someone of the opposite sex.  That had been the policy in the past and it had led to incredibly sad stories of broken homes and lives.  Fourth, he said gay members who remain in the church deserve our compassion, if not our admiration.  If they're to live according to church dictates, they are destined to truly lonely lives devoid of physical intimacy.

I believe the issue continues to be divisive here as evidenced by something that happened several months ago.  The church leadership sent Marlin K. Jensen of the Seventy to our stake conference and he held a by-invitation-only meeting that Sunday morning.  I was invited, but was unable to go.  Apparently, however, the meeting room was full of members who had been disappointed by the church's stance on Prop 8.  From what I understand, Elder Jensen said several things of interest.  First, he called himself an "administrator" with little influence in the church, but he was willing to deliver a message to its leadership regarding the feelings of its members.  This is an interesting admission, since as a general authority, he is deemed to speak for God.  Second, he admitted that the church had made mistakes in its handling of Prop 8 and he was sorry for the hurt that the actions had caused.  Then he let people stand and tell their stories.  Many of the speakers were parents of gay children, who felt that the church had abandoned them.  By the meeting's end, there were very few dry eyes in the room.  Elder Jensen appeared visibly moved and said he would relay the stories to Salt Lake.  I'm left with the impression that there is not only division among the members, but also among the leaders on this issue.  I hope the church soon adopts a more enlightened stance.

This World Has Potential

My son, Aaron, was recently named the Charles Mingus Composition Award winner at Berklee College of Music in Boston.  There he had the enviable opportunity to work with Maria Schneider, who is one of his musical inspirations.   

Here is a piece he recently wrote and performed at the JazzSchool in Berkeley, California.  It's part of a four movement jazz suite and this particular movement is entitled This World Has Potential.  It's a reminder to me that despite the many things we can criticize about our circumstances, the world remains a remarkable and wonder-filled place.

I hope you enjoy the music.

A Couple (More) Poems

My Compromise

For five years, or so,

These lips have touched no meat.

But on Thanksgiving Day

I load up on gravy

Made with the drippings

Of a sacrificial turkey.

By this, I tell myself,

I didn’t kill the bird,

But only performed

A kind of liposuction,

Which, in the final analysis,

Might have been exactly

What the creature had needed.

Time and Space

We are then weightless souls

Whisked away at light’s speed,

Finally seeing what had been there all along,

Hidden behind a façade:

Time is but another location.

That’s when the pieces fit,

And we’re privy to past and future—

Including the narrow corridors of mortality—

Suddenly earning us full knowledge,

Rendering us unable to suppress the notion:

“Aha!”

To that future self, I speak:

Don’t judge me as I do now,

With a disapproving eye that belabors each point,

Recollecting the infinite number

And irreconcilable costs of my shortcomings.

Let’s agree, instead:

Yes, I wield unrighteous dominion

And my faults are limitless,

But somewhere beyond time,

Against all odds and expectations,

I am you.

Mathew 5:17 and its Historical Importance (Part 5)

I'll finish this section with one last idea about the nature of God. 

People like Pat Robertson would have us believe in a deity that causes natural calamities in response to gay rights celebrations, but is that the act of a loving God?  Jesus says otherwise in the final verse of Matthew chapter 5, which reads:

Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.

We often gloss over this scripture or read it without understanding its context.  Yet, it's a scripture that begs for context since it includes the word "therefore," which is invariably used to connect a premise to a conclusion, as in the relationship: A therefore B.  The premise alluded to is the description of perfection that precedes the final verse.  Esssentially Christ says that His gospel, which was summarized in the key passages I've cited in my earlier postings, is perfection.  But perhaps the more important point is what Christ says in the second half of the verse, which is as extraordinary as it is rarely noted.  He implies that His gospel circumscribes the kind of perfection God honors and practices.

As I've said before, I can’t imagine our Heavenly Father so angry that He would flood the earth and kill all, but eight, of His children.  That's inconsistent with the gospel, which Christ assures us is practiced by the Father.  Furthermore, to believe in a flood as judgement—and to concurrently assume that God is a perfect moral being—is to think such acts are acceptable.  In that way, a Judeo-Christian ethic that is premised upon a vengeful and jealous version of godliness is dangerous and can lead to thug-like acts of its believers.  It also, in my opinion, happens to be wrong.

Mathew 5:17 and its Historical Importance (Part 4)

Are we a Christian nation, as many suppose? I don’t think so. Sure, we give lip service to what Jesus taught, but we’ve bought into the fallacy that we don’t have to live His teachings, but don’t take my word for it. Examine Christ’s description of His moral philosophy—as described in Matthew Chapter 5—and compare it to our daily acts and belief, especially the political ambitions of the far right.

Key Teaching #1 (Matt 5:21-22): Do more than refrain from murder, rein in your anger and hurtful acts. I can’t understand how we got involved in a war in Iraq, when UN weapons inspectors, Hans Blix and Scott Ritter, were assuring the world that there was no evidence of WMDs in the country. Similarly, how does a Christian nation allow the torture of individuals and let its architects cloak the actions in camouflaged terms, like “aggressive interrogation.” By whatever name we choose to call it, the abuse has killed people.

What’s just as remarkable is that these are violations of the lesser law Jesus came to improve upon. He wants us to do better than just avoid lunatic wars—He wants us to refrain from anger, too. But where are we on the niceness scale today? The better question might be: Whatever happened to being nice? We’ve replaced gladiator combat with TV commentary filled with so much venom, there’s no way to hear, much less grasp, the issues. (Many years ago, one of my kids was watching CNN’s Crossfire, when he looked at me and said: “Why do they hate each other?”) In particular, conservative talking heads—Limbaugh, Hannity and Beck—claim moral superiority while impugning the intelligence and patriotism of those who have simple differences of opinion. While Jesus encourages peace, they are our biggest hawks. In the process they foment so much hatred and fear that I half expect armed revolts to arise.

As a high school debater one of the things I learned was the necessity of keeping emotions in check. When debaters scream, judges miss the logic. A yelling match can be great theater, but it’s shitty public discourse that never arrives at the truth or even changes a mind. In fact, it rarely does more than provide a confirmation to those who’d always wanted to believe the noise anyway. We must take to heart the implication of Christ’s teaching: Until we treat each other with dignity and grant each other the right to have opinions, we will never get along or achieve a lasting peace.

Key Teaching #2 (Matt 5:27-28): Do more than refrain from adultery, bridle your passions and appetites. Who has the bigger zipper problem—Christian conservatives, or their heathen counterparts? That’s probably an unfair question, but while people on the religious right excoriate their liberal counterparts who have broken vows of fidelity, a list of their own fallen can paper an average-sized living room. Their notion of Family Values reminds me of that line in Hamlet: The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

More importantly, the religious right tends to focus on the act of sex, rather than Christ’s requirement to exact discipline over human passion and appetite. I’m baffled, for example, at how offended some people get by fleeting nudity in a movie, but will clap and cheer when Conan the Barbarian runs his spear through the evil wizard. How did we conclude that breasts were bad, but bloody fights to the death are wholesome entertainment?

When I was a kid, two movies came out that speak volumes about society’s strange preoccupation with physical intimacy. They were: 1) Love Story and 2) The Graduate. When it first appeared, Love Story was rated PG and teenagers flocked to it. There was no skin in the movie, but it was clear what the two attractive and intelligent protagonists were doing behind closed doors. I have little doubt that Ali McGraw’s twitching nose drove more than a few young viewers to Makeout Point to watch the submarine races after the show. The Graduate, on the other hand, was rated R—racy for its time due primarily to that view of Ann Bancroft’s naked leg lofted seductively in the air—but the storyline depicted her relationship with Dustin Hoffman as illicit and unromantic. Now, which movie had the worse impact on the morality of people? Again, that’s probably an unfair question and one that will probably never be answered. Yet, isn’t it clear by the comparison that our obsession with the physical gets in the way of understanding the heart of what matters? Though I can’t condone adultery, we should be far more fixated upon the difference between love and unbridled lust, and practicing the former while eschewing the latter.

That notion is embedded in the golden rule and is akin to an idea I heard M. Scott Peck once relate. As best as I can recollect, Peck, who is a psychiatrist as well as a moral philosopher, said he wasn’t against the idea of having sex with his patients, but he could think of no instance in which doing so would be helpful. Rather, any activity of the kind would result in unmitigated harm to the people to whom he had an obligation to heal. The point is this: Let’s make sure our motives are pure—if we can do that, chances are our hands will be clean, also.

Key Teaching #3 (Matt 5:33-34): Do more than honor contractual obligations, let your word be your bond. So much of what’s wrong with public discourse today is the blatant misrepresentation of facts. While Jesus demands honesty, our willingness to tell part-truths and to obfuscate through legal nitpicking is rampant. Remember when a U.S. president sat before a committee and said, “It depends on what the meaning of the word 'is' is.”? That’s only one example of what Christ referred to as straining at gnats and swallowing camels. Recall that His most serious rebukes were reserved for those he called, “Scribes, Pharisees, Hypocrites!”

I will readily admit that when I was an investment banker I requested the writing of a mountain of legal opinions, each of which proposed ways in which I could do what the law intended I should not. What I did might have been legal, but it was certainly wasn’t right. I see the same thing happening today regarding conservative efforts to undermine green policies. Haven’t we contracted with God to “replenish the earth” since the time of Eden? Yet, Tea Party loyalists, backed by Christian Fundamentalists, refuse to acknowledge the truth about the destruction of our environment and back revisionist research to excuse it. Many of them do so thinking God will fix the problem. But that’s just kicking the ball into His court. It’s our job to do what’s best for our children. I’m sure Christ longs for the day when we can tell the whole truth, admit to our mistakes and fulfill the intentions of our promises.

Key Teaching #4 (Matt 5:38-39): Don’t worry about getting even, forgive unconditionally. Mahatma Gandhi once said, “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” Jesus tried to say the same thing and few seemed to hear. Ask the average America (and virtually all Christians) what justice means and the answer will invariably have something to do with punishment for crimes. But the true meaning of justice has nothing to do with punishment. Read Plato’s Republic and you’ll see the word justice printed on nearly every page. It is, in fact, a treatise on justice and yet there is very little in it about responses to crimes. Justice, at its most basic level, is all about DOING WHAT IS JUST, and that’s another way of saying doing what’s right.

As I’ve mentioned in previous postings, the notion that we must exact an eye for an eye was never meant as a requirement even in Moses’ day. It was a maximum penalty handed down after the children of Israel emerged from slavery believing that the capricious whips of their Egyptian masters was the measure of justice. To them at the time, the penalty for a stolen crust of bread might be the loss of a hand. Moses urged his people to be better than that. Yet Christ wants us to go beyond even the Mosaic standard and refrain from vengeance altogether. In His gospel, there is no balancing of cosmic debits or credits for sin. Jesus wants us to forgive and, if possible, restore what was lost when sin occurs. In that context, what is the best restitution? A rehabilitated heart. Seeking anything more is just getting even.

Key Teaching #5 (Matt 5:43-44): Do more than love those who love you, love everyone. Remember how the children of Israel were told not to kill or steal, and were later led into a promised land that happened to be populated by others? What were the Israelites told to do then? They were commanded, of course, to kill people and steal land. The resultant moral ambiguity led to considerable debate among Jews, which eventually resulted in a lawyer asking Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?” The lawyer knew that some faction of the crowd believed the Mosaic Law was a requirement to be followed only when dealing with other Jews—that in essence the definition of neighbor was restricted to kin. That’s when Jesus offered the Parable of the Good Samaritan. By His discourse we know we’re to love everyone.

But Christian fundamentalists, by their actions against gay rights, do not, in my opinion, fulfill the requirement. I know people who spent considerable time and resources in promoting Proposition 8 in California. Some of them did so reluctantly, doing only what they thought God had commanded. I’m sure many of them prayed for an end to the controversy. Others, however, took it on with a zeal that was an insidious extension of beating up queers on Friday night. That is not love. Neither is it love when a nation decides it needs all of its missiles and bombs and tanks and destroyers, but cannot afford to give its children the world-class education for which it was once the object of envy. Yes, that’s not love, but it’s also shortsighted.

In my next posting, I'll show how this is contrary to God's nature. 

Matthew 5:17 and Its Historical Importance (Part 3)

If you've followed my blog for some time, then you've seen this graphic before, so I'll ask you to excuse the repetition, but it's probably the most important notion I've posted.  In a nutshell, what it says is this: The intent of Matthew 5:17 was not to affirm the Mosaic Law, since Christ countermands it in several telling passages that follow the verse.  I also believe it's clear from the discourse, that although He doesn't destroy the Ten Commandments, Christ does render them obsolete. 

In addition, by comparing His gospel to the requirements of Leviticus, Jesus actually implies three laws: One that conforms to the Mosaic Law, one that conforms to the gospel and another that conforms to neither standard.  This is how they shake out.  (Please read them in the context of what Matthew chapter five says). 

As I've said before, to assume that the Ten Commandments are all we are required to observe misses the point of what Christ tried to say.  As CS Lewis says in, The Problem of Pain:

To disobey your proper law (i.e., the law God makes for a being such as you) means to find yourself obeying one of God’s lower laws: e.g. if, when walking on slippery pavement, you neglect the law of Prudence, you suddenly find yourself obeying the law of gravitation.

The implication is crucial, but I've never heard it noted. During our times of honest introspection, it’s not enough to ask: Am I obedient? Human beings have no choice but to be obedient. The more useful question is: To what am I being obedient, a lower or higher law?  In my next posting I'll try to show how our Christian fundamentalist culture has primarily ignored the higher law. 

Matthew 5:17 and Its Historical Importance (Part 2)

Regardless of the correct interpretation of Matthew 5:17, it’s clear that those who believed that Christ affirmed the Mosaic Law won out in the test of wills that occurred during the early history of the church.  Why do I say that?  Consider the evidence today:

·    A great number of people with political influence seek to bring a Levitical order to our system of justice.  This is despite what Christ says about the gospel’s requirement that exceeds “an eye for an eye.”  

·    Religious people fight to defy the Constitution’s separation of church and state to post the Ten Commandments on court houses and other government offices, but don’t seem to have the same level of interest in Christ’s two great laws.

·    Christian fundamentalists have begun to use the term “Judeo-Christian Ethic” to describe their faith and in doing so, lump the Mosaic Law and Christ’s gospel into a composite far more Judeo (613 specific laws) than Christian (two general rules of thumb).

That brings us back to the question: What did Christ mean when He said He’d come to fulfill the Mosaic Law (the law and the prophets)?  For the answer it’s helpful to refer to the original Greek text of Matthew, from which the term pleroo was translated into the word fulfil in 5:17 of the King James Bible.  Pleroo is unfortunately a word that has a range of meanings that differ in subtle ways and must be interpreted in context.  Its primary definition, which is given by widely accepted source material such as Strong’s Concordance, is to fill to the top, or to cram down, or to make complete.

How Christ fills or completes the Mosaic Law is an important consideration.  Let me summarize what I understand about the nuances of the word pleroo.  If I have a bottle that’s nearly full of water, which I then fill to the rim by holding it beneath a flowing tap, I’ve pleroo-ed the bottle.  Notice that while I’ve filled it, I’ve also rendered the bottle useless as an object that can store more water.  And this is an important sense that the word conveys.  In fact, one alternative interpretation of pleroo is to render obsolete. 

In other words, the appropriate view of Matthew 5:17 is to say Christ didn’t come to destroy Leviticus, but He nevertheless rendered it obsolete.  Just like we can still use typewriters in a world full of computers, we can continue to obey the Law of Moses if we choose, but Christ wishes us to achieve a higher standard that Leviticus does not and cannot contain.  Said another way, Christ asks us to graduate from the requirements of the Mosaic Law to something far grander.  In this way, the idea of graduation is consistent with Strong’s notion of completion.

What is the difference between Christ’s gospel and the Old Testament?  That will be the subject of my next posting.

Matthew 5:17 and Its Historical Importance (Part 1)

I’m going to take my time with this posting—maybe offer it in several installments.  What I hope to show is that due to historical developments shaped by socio-political forces, the prevailing view of Christ’s gospel was corrupted and rendered inconsistent with His teachings.  I’ll attempt to do so by summarizing worldviews that were prevalent up until a time shortly after the First Council of Nicaea was convened in 325.  Furthermore, I’ll focus on a specific verse of scripture that, at one time, was a kind of ground zero with respect to a religious tumult that was a precursor to the Inquisition.  As a result of that religious upheaval, people were killed, properties were confiscated and a flourishing religious tradition was labeled heretical. 

That scripture, Matthew 5:17, is part of an introduction to Christ’s Sermon on the Mount, the most salient description of the gospel found anywhere.  Despite its importance, however, few mainstream Christians ever consider its meaning.  The King James account of the verse reads:

Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil.

The first part of the scripture isn’t subject to debate.  The message is clear: Christ didn’t come to destroy the Mosaic Law (which on this and multiple other occasions He refers to as, “the law and the prophets”).  What’s less clear, however, is the meaning of the word fulfil (sic) that closes out His declaration. 

In the earliest history of the church (which I again define as the period leading up to and shortly after the First Council of Nicaea) the meaning of the scripture was reduced to two possible interpretations, neither of which captures the varied nuances of the word.  I’ll embellish on this point later, but it’s important to note that the reason the debate focused on only two alternative interpretations is because there were two opposing Christian groups that each required acceptance of a specific reading of the scripture to insure their survival.  

The two interpretations of the scripture were:

1.   Jesus didn’t come to destroy the Mosaic Law, but to affirm it.

2.   Jesus didn’t come to destroy the Mosaic Law, but to abrogate it.  

Both interpretations are problematic.  While the notion that Christ affirms the Mosaic Law appears consistent with His assertion that He didn’t come to destroy it, the view conflicts with the central idea behind five telling passages that come later in the chapter.  (For a treatment of this, see one of my earlier blogs at http://newchristianethics.blogspot.com/2008/11/higher-and-lesser-lawsarguably-most.html).  However, to say Christ abrogated the Mosaic Law begs the question: How does one abrogate a law without destroying an essential part of it?  To assume the second interpretation is correct is to believe that Christ was open to semantic nit-picking, which is counter to everything we hold dear about His gospel.  Therefore, the only conclusion a reasonable person might conclude is that neither explanation is correct.  This begs the question: Why did the early historical debate reduce to an argument between two highly improbable interpretations?

To answer that question, it’s important to note that there was once a number of flourishing religious traditions that today we refer to as Gnostic Christianity.  The Gnostics, contrary to common belief, didn’t belong to a single monolithic faith with a singular worldview.  In fact, it has often been said there were as many Gnostic factions as there were Gnostics.  The reason for this can be explained by the term gnosis, the Greek root word from which the people derived their label.  To the Greeks, there are two types of knowledge.  The first, logos, is knowledge gained through learning—life experience and study.  Its alternative, gnosis, is very different.  A receiver of gnosis—aside from having an open mind receptive to it—doesn’t obtain its variety of knowledge through personal effort.  Rather, gnosis is acquired through sudden and dramatic flashes of what might be called inspiration.  Therefore, the common thread among Gnostic belief was the idea that people could come to an understanding of the mind of God through communion leading to personal revelation.  The end result of this belief was that the Gnostics began to personalize the gospel in a way that resulted in the development of a wide range of traditions.

To those who supported a more orthodox view of Christianity, which included the need for a single faith and an indisputable doctrine, the proliferation of new factions was disconcerting.  While searching for a way to restrict the number of divergent worldviews, the followers who sought orthodoxy quickly realized two things:

1.   Christ’s gospel—aside from His directive to love God and our neighbors—was only suggestive of appropriate behavior and tradition.

2.   Leviticus, on the other hand, with its 613 specific and separate laws, was a highly prescriptive summary of what one could argue was correct doctrine.

As one might suspect, an emphasis on conformity to the Mosaic Law became a key aspect of Christian orthodoxy’s war on Gnosticism.  The followers of the orthodox view supported the idea that Christ affirmed the tenants of the Old Testament and wished His followers to abide by them.  Notice that this had as much to do with political control as it did with the true meaning of Christ’s gospel.  Gnostics, on the other hand, rebelled against the stricture of the Mosaic Law, because it limited their ability to abide by revealed interpretations of Christ’s word. 

In the end the followers of orthodoxy—who were far better organized than their factionalized opponents—won.  The Gnostics were labeled as heretics.  Many were imprisoned or killed, and their various traditions were eliminated.  Except for some highly charged accusations found in the writings of orthodox writers (such as Irenaeus, who lived in the 2^nd century) Gnostic doctrines were lost until the Nag Hamadi library was discovered in the Egyptian desert in 1945. 

If, therefore, the idea that we’re to follow the Mosaic Law is based upon political spin from a control-seeking orthodoxy, what is the true meaning of Christ’s assertion that He came to fulfill the law and prophets?  That will be the subject of my next posting.

Investments in Our Country's Resources

I used to run structured products for an investment bank and at the end of every year it was my responsibility to hold bonus conversations with my people. The traders would invariably come to the meetings armed with details of the money they'd earned and make arguments that sounded something like this: "I made $X for the firm, so I should get nearly $X for my bonus. That's only fair." My reply would be: "You made $X for the firm only because the firm gave you the infrastructure, the training and the deal flow to accomplish it. If you'd been working alone, you wouldn't have made anything close to that amount. For that reason, you have to return to the firm enough to ensure that it can continue to provide you the economic opportunities that will allow you to make a good living."

Can't we say the same about taxes? If Bill Gates had been born in Somalia, do you think he'd be a billionaire today? Of course not. He was lucky to be born in a country that had the infrastructure, training opportunities, capital and deal flow to allow him to make billions of dollars in personal wealth. Gates, for one, believes he's under-taxed and he has a good point. We all owe something to our country to ensure that it continues to be a place where our children will have the same, or better, infrastructure, educational system and economic opportunities to live peaceably and productively. Billionaires don't make billions on their own. They create their wealth, because of a remarkable system based upon pooled resources and the cooperation of its citizens. 

In many ways, we as a country are neglecting the resources that elevated this country to its preeminent position in the world today.  In particular, the cuts in education spending seem to me to be shortsighted at best.  From a purely economic standpoint, it isn't justifiable.  For example, do we understand the cost of a poor education?  McKinsey recently studied the issue and determined that the cost of the educational divide between blacks and whites alone amounted to nearly half a trillion dollars a year.  But let's put faces to the  problem and ask ourselves what the costs of a bad education are in terms of more people incarcerated, more unwanted pregnancies, more welfare and healthcare spending, not to mention lost economic production.

For economic reasons alone, I cannot understand the Tea Party's support of budget cuts that weaken our country's infrastructure.  It's bad for our future.  Instead, why can't we reduce our military budget that drains resources from the private sector and encourages us to do boneheaded things like invade Iraq?  But more than this, what's happening to funding for our children is unconscionable and should be contrary to a truly Christian agenda.

After all, Jesus said, "Let the children come unto me."

Wealth Concentration in America

A recent Mother Jones article and research performed by Forbes and others points to a disturbing fact about wealth distribution in America. 

http://motherjones.com/politics/2011/02/income-inequality-in-america-chart-graph

Michael Moore, whose contribution to the issue was substantiated by Politifact.com, claims that the top 400 wealthiest Americans have more combined wealth than the bottom half of all Americans (about 155 million people).  I've been aware of the information for some time and it's actually something that worries me a lot, especially because it will have impact on my children. As someone who once ran a hedge fund and probably could be a billionaire today except that I couldn't look at myself in a mirror anymore, I do not believe the disparity between the rich and poor in this country to be sustainable. The idea that a rising tide floats all boats is unadulterated BS, but that's only a small part of what I find disconcerting. The fact is no society has ever survived the kind of income disparity that exists in this country. Violent revolution is invariably the end result.

Looking at this issue through the lens of what recently happened in Wisconsin is also startling.  While a governor there did much in his power to dismantle average Americans from exercising their abilities to bargain collectively, it was demonstrated that an extraordinarily wealthy family who had contributed to the governor's campaign (the Koch family) had unusual access to the policymaker. 

And who is supporting this socio-political construct in which the poor get poorer and the rich get richer?  It's conservatives, who derive much of their sustaining influence from fundamental Christian Tea Party loyalists.  They do this by demanding reductions in taxes without corresponding reductions in military spending.  I find this another example of how Christian Fundamentalism completely misses the mark of what Jesus had intended for His followers.  Subsequent to Christ's crucifixion, many of the early members of His church lived communally with their wealth held in common.  They were the few who wouldn't abadon cities when plagues struck.  They took in abandoned children and shared what they had with the indigent.  This was common practice, based upon Christ's earthly directives to feed the hungry and clothe the naked, until a kind of power-hungry orthodoxy took over and redefined the gospel. 

I'm sure Jesus would be ashamed if He saw what is being advocated in His name today. 

A Couple of Poems

Here are a couple of poems I recently wrote that depict what I believe to be completely justifiable ways to relate to whatever we call God.  Acknowledging that faith is not a perfect knowledge and admitting that we are riddled with doubt is a good first step.  Rejecting the view that God is jealous and vengeful is a good second.  To do so would help render us more honest and forgiving.

Only Human

By my electric

Involuntary word,

Unseen legions rally

To battle the clandestine intruders

And renegade factions

That would destroy this vessel.

Making possible a storybook universe,

Embedded in dreams

And impenetrable longing,

Peopled by the captured and constructed,

Who cry for attention,

Then whisper in equal measure:

Truth and lies.

They have sentience

And also free will,

Capable of posing

That most disconcerting of questions:

Why should you be any different?

Maybe God, too, is an impulse

In the synapse of a greater consciousness.

Brushing Up to Godliness

I commanded, “No,”

But still he leaped,

Then whirled in midair,

Blinded and sneezing,

Frothing from the mouth.

The skunk wandered off,

Unbothered,

Just another day

For a being possessed with power

Worthy of a comic book character.

It was a bad morning to be without a leash.

Hand to collar,

We staggered to the nearest pond,

Barely able to breathe,

Rubbing the stink and the sting

From our tear-filled eyes.

Oh, I dunked him—

Be assured that I dunked him good—

Muttering all along,

“You damn dog.”

On the way home—

He in back,

Muzzle on paws,

Sad eyes only now opening

To the possibility of new

And disquieting hazards—

I lowered the window

And laughed into the passing breeze.

So what if the Jeep will never be the same?

Will I condemn the penitent

For his most endearing

Instincts and preoccupations:

Childlike enthusiasm

And boundless curiosity?

Perfection is unwarranted.

Give me quirkiness instead,

And other sweet foibles,

In all their glorious variety.

If so blessed,

Laughter will accompany me

Everywhere I go.

Why Lyra (my granddaughter) is the Star I Orbit

1. She does something new every day
2. Her favorite word is her own invention (A-dee-a!) which can mean anything from "Look over there," to "Hey, that was cool"
3. Beatles songs make her dance and sing
4. She drops food on the floor and laughs as the dogs scramble to eat it
5. She knows all the gestures to patty cake
6. She thinks "This little piggy" is hilarious
7. She climbs onto the dogs when they're napping and gives them hugs
8. She loves blackberries straight off the cane
9. Sleep is the only thing that can slow her down
10. When I sing the final line to the lullably, "You're the best little one, ever could be," she joins along, singing, "Beeeeeee" in something resembling harmony

Northern Hunk

I wrote this story a while back when thinking of how some people claim to be looking for love when they're really seeking something else entirely.  I hope you enjoy it. 

______________________

The folks at Northern Hunk magazine sent Benny Tookalook to Chicago for five days and nights. They checked him into a Motel 6—classy, he thought, for its miniature bottle of shampoo and its toilet sanitized for his protection. Every minute of his stay was scheduled, and since it was his second trip to the Midwest, Benny played the part of a seasoned hand. He was spontaneous during the modeling sessions, relaxed as the TV talk shows were taped.

And why not? The camera loved his wavy shoulder-length hair, his olive skin, and dark feral eyes. Producers for the Talk with Tina Show suggested he emerge on stage with his felt shirt unbuttoned and the waistband on his boxers showing. When he did so, women in the audience greeted him with whistles and catcalls.

“Do you get this response everywhere?”

Tina Carmichael had asked the question while the applause sign flashed: Ooh…Let’s give him a hand…Ah. She stood among the audience—leggy and beak nosed, dressed in a pink miniskirt. If not for the microphone in her hand, she might have passed for a flamingo.

Benny only shrugged and lowered his gaze. He knew it was best not to speak too much. His reserve would be judged as boyish modesty, a trait that drove women crazy—at least that’s what Roscoe, his best friend and employer often told him. Besides, what could he say? Back home in Flat Busted, Alaska, no one paid him a second look, but he didn’t want the whole world to know that.

“Now, Benny,” Tina said. “You’re Northern Hunk magazine’s Hunk of the Year for the second time in a row. When will you give up your title?”

Benny knew the answer to that question. Roscoe had supplied him with a list of likely queries and the answers hot babes would love to hear. “I’ll hang it up once I find the girl of my dreams.”

More catcalls and whistles followed, and Benny thought: Damn, that Roscoe never fails me.

“Sounds like a few ladies in the audience would apply for the job. Have you met anyone nice in Chicago?”

“I haven’t left Illinois, yet.”

An uneasy silence filled the studio until Tina replied gently, “Chicago is in Illinois,” which led to an equally nervous twitter.

Benny looked down at the floor again, then he raised his face and grinned. It was a response he’d practiced over the years, one that suggested he’d only been joking. “Just pulling your chain, Tina.”

Another round of cheers and applause erupted and Benny chuckled in a way that belied the thought roaming about in his head: Do I look like a damn roadmap, Lady?

###

That evening a radio interview didn’t pan out and Benny received some well-earned time off. Eager to sample Chicago’s fine cuisine and entertainment, he bought a hotdog from a street vendor—swallowed it in five easy bites—and waved down a passing cab.

“Take me to the nearest strip joint,” he said.

Within minutes Benny was standing in a promising sprawl of neon signs and ramshackle buildings, a place where he could compare g-strings and pole dances until the cows came home, but he didn’t have that kind of time. He spun on his heels with eyes covered and a finger pointed straight ahead, letting chance select his destination. His eyes opened to a turn-of-the-century theater that was lit up like a Christmas tree, the letters N-U-D-E doing the can-can across its marquee. Tasteful, Benny thought, as he entered through its double doors.

A young woman in a halter top and hotpants met him just inside and before he could say, “Wet my whistle,” she was leading him to a table up front and taking his drink order.

“Say,” she said. “Didn’t I see you on TV?”

“Maybe,” Benny replied. “I am a celebrity.”

The girl’s name, he learned, was Sally. She had puppy dog brown eyes and a boundless curiosity. Each trip to his table, she quizzed him without pause: What’s Tina Carmichael like? Have you ever met Tom Cruise? If the camera really adds ten pounds, how do you keep from getting fat? Before the evening was over she was asking for his autograph.

“Sure,” Benny said, “if you drive me home when your shift is over.”

From then the night lost its focus, like a drive through dense fog. Benny got the gist of direction, but lost track of all but the biggest bumps and turns. In short the girl accompanied him to his room, where they engaged in a combination medical exam and game of Twister. Then morning came and Benny woke. He called out to Sally, but she was gone. The only reminder of their time together was the double twist in his sheets.

Damn, Benny thought, she forgot my autograph.

###

A day after Benny’s return home, he and Roscoe began to prioritize the letters and e-mails already pouring in. Ladies from all over the country seemed hell-bent to offer themselves as playthings and brides. The correspondence included photos: a pictorial smorgasbord of blondes, brunettes, and redheads (not to mention augmented breasts, thongs, and come-on leers).

“Holy Smoke,” Roscoe said, as he studied a particularly explicit Polaroid from one angle, then another. “I knew there was a reason I kept you employed.”

Roscoe was a giant of a man with a laugh like a bullhorn and a single black eyebrow that stretched across his forehead like a caterpillar. He owned the hardware store where Northern Hunk’s two-time Hunk of the Year kept the bins filled with fuses, couplers, and ten-penny nails. They sat in Benny’s kitchen, at a fold-up card table that was covered with dirty plates and empty beer cans.

“Thanks for your help,” Benny said. “But why are you so interested, anyway?”

“Are you kidding? I’m a married man. I got kids.”

Benny sought a connection between his question and his friend’s answer. “And you want the same for me? Marriage and kids?”

“Hell no. You don’t need that.”

“I don’t?” Suddenly Benny was confused. Hadn’t he told Tina Carmichael—motivated, in part, by Roscoe’s advice—that he wanted a true love, a partnership to last until the end of time?

“Variety’s the spice of life," Roscoe said, "and the truth is: I wouldn’t mind planting a camera in your bedroom. If it’s okay with you, of course.”

###

Benny nixed his friend’s camera idea and resolved to check the light fixture above his bed from time to time. Then to insure Roscoe’s continued support, he promised to kiss and tell—to hold nothing back about his love life. It was a wonder to him how a respected man with a pretty wife and tons of life experience could gain so much pleasure in tales of seduction. Yet in exchange for full disclosure, his boss agreed to edit the correspondence they would send to women who showed special promise.

“Now look here,” Roscoe said, waving a sheet of paper. “You can’t just jump in and ask: ‘Do you want to do the fandango?’ That isn’t good form—especially when you put it in the first sentence.” He was reading the original draft of a letter Benny had written to a college gymnast named Danielle. She’d sent a picture of herself taken during a balance beam performance. Both Benny and Roscoe agreed she looked plenty limber.

“Then what should I say?” Benny asked.

“You got to be sly and sneak up on her. You got to work up to questions like that.”

In the end they put their heads together and wrote what seemed to them a true masterpiece. It read:

Dear Danielle,
I like your picture. You sure are flexible. How did you ever learn to bend over like that? It would hurt my nut sack to even try.

Speaking of nut sacks, do you like to fandango? I do. Let me know.

Sincerely,
Benny Tookalook

###

Danielle never wrote again, but Marla, a motorcycle cop from Las Vegas did—a couple of times. She offered to bring her collection of handcuffs and leather undergarments. The notion made Benny dizzy with desire and put a dream in his head of being strip-searched by a sandy-blond Amazon. A week later, while he and his boss were watching from inside Flat Busted’s air terminal, Marla stepped out of his dreams and onto the tarmac.

“Holy sweet knockers,” Roscoe said.

Benny was already smitten by the long legs and lanky torso waltzing across the pavement to the terminal. He liked what was riding in her sweater, too, but he didn’t need his friend’s admiration focused in the same direction. “Don’t be ignorant,” he said. “I just might marry the girl.”

Roscoe turned to him and rolled his eyes. “I got things to do,” he said and added before leaving, “You owe me stories. Don’t be early for work tomorrow.”

Marla entered the waiting area with a look that suggested she was smitten, too, a sentiment she affirmed by raising her top in greeting. Benny—as well as two bearded oil workers, a lady at the car rental counter, and three huskies in their travel crates—were granted a view to a smiley face drawn on each breast. During the ride home Marla babbled at the speed of light. The mountains reminded her of lovers holding hands. The trees looked like lovers kissing. The ocean was a restless bed of lovers. She saw the world in ways that were unique and unsettling to Benny. Damn, he thought, this here is a sophisticated woman.

Only fifteen minutes through the door of his fifth-wheel trailer, the level of sophistication reached new heights. Marla flashed her patrol badge and read Benny his rights, giving him a wedgie to emphasize each point.

“You have the right to play doctor,” she said, while putting another twist in his shorts.

“Ooowee,” Benny replied and he assumed the position with legs spread wide and palms against the wall.

True to her word Marla broke out her collection of handcuffs, yet nothing was as stimulating as the billy club she brandished like a foil. The seduction progressed and gained urgency, but Benny had become too aroused to progress very far.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after a moment of awkward silence.

“Don’t be. It was the best twelve seconds of my life.”

###

The next morning Benny arrived five minutes early for work and waited at the front counter. A half-hour later Roscoe strolled in and stopped at the cash register, frowning. “Didn’t I tell you to sleep in?” he said.

Benny didn’t know how to break the news. His friend had invested time and emotional support to the task of finding a love match and Roscoe wouldn’t take kindly to the prior evening’s events. In the end, Benny came clean in the same way he might rip off a bandage—quick, so as not to prolong the agony. “I broke it off. It wasn’t going to work between Marla and me.”

Roscoe shook his head sadly. “What happened? Wouldn’t she put out?”

“No problem there. It's something she said--the worst possible thing.”

“She wanted to get hitched?”

“No, not that. She said, ‘You’re really into missionary, aren’t you?’ And that’s when I knew we were over.”

Roscoe scratched his head and winced. “Why, for heck’s sake?”

Benny exhaled in a manner that sounded like a balloon deflating. For all his friend’s smarts, sometimes the man was just plain dense—sometimes he needed things spelled out to him. “Come on Roscoe,” he said. “You know me better than that. I won’t have anything to do with missionaries. Religion and me don’t mix.”

###

After Roscoe explained the nature of Benny’s error, Mr. Hunk-of-the-Year rushed to the airport and caught Marla before she boarded her plane to Anchorage. He asked the woman to stay—begged her even—but she was inconsolable. “I can’t see loving a can of worms,” she said. “And that’s just about how dumb you are.”

The words stung, but he’d already decided Marla was too cultured and clever for him anyway. How many women, after all, owned a collection of handcuffs, or could see trees as lovers? Putting that episode of his life behind him, Benny looked forward to the rest of summer and hoped for a deeper and truer love connection.

Now, this is what happened: Candice was too skinny, Jennifer too tanned. Heather didn’t like to fish. Beatrice was a teetotaler. Billy Jean had big feet and Nell complained about the length of Alaska’s summer days. One by one each girl who passed through his door turned out to be flawed in some vital way. Benny was bummed, but Roscoe took joy in the variety of new faces.

September came and so did cold weather. Benny drove Rachel, his most recent attempt at love, to the airport and thought of the long nights he would have to endure with no warm body to cuddle beside him. He was home before the six o’clock news and the sky was already black. His trailer was as quiet as a sigh. Suddenly he wished Marla was there to flash her badge and read him his rights, but in the midst of this despair he found hope in an e-mail message from someone new, a woman who appeared to be some kind of foreigner. It read:

Dear Benny:
I from Japanese. You know Japanese? I see you picture Northern Hunk magazine. I like you. Here my picture. I want go Alaska for to see a northern lights. Maybe I see each other.

Sincerely,
Kumiko Takei

At first Benny wondered how to reply. He thought of calling Roscoe for help, until a sudden realization struck him broadside: Their joint efforts had earned him little more than an empty bed and a heart full of longing. What might have happened if he’d relied on instinct, rather than the opinion of others? Maybe he’d be with a woman right now, enjoying a romantic evening complete with bowls of popcorn, bottles of brew, and a carefully selected sporting event on television. Besides, Benny thought, he’d learned a thing or two by watching Roscoe edit letter after letter.

After a moment of consideration he wrote:

Dear Kumiko:
I like the northern lights, too. They are bright and colorful. They come out during winter. It is almost winter now. Winter is a good time to stay in bed out of the cold.

Speaking of staying in bed, do you like to fandango? I do. Let me know.

Sincerely,
Benny Tookalook

Now that, Benny thought as he clicked the send button, was a masterpiece worthy of true love.

I Have a Novel Coming Out

Several months ago I was contacted by someone at a small literary press about the availability of a novel I had written and tried to get published five years back. At first I thought it was a pitch by a vanity press, but it turned out the person had seen my novel while working for another publisher. In short, the book will soon be in print. Here is the cover.

The book is about Alaskan bush pilot, Patch Taggart, who spots a woman stranded on open tundra, but he has no choice except to leave her to face winter's imminent arrival alone. Spring arrives and he returns to the area, only to discover a tent with a body inside it. Tormented by guilt and obsessed by the contents of a journal the woman had kept, Patch resolves to follow her path through the stark Alaskan wilderness in search of something she buried and left behind.

Meanwhile, Athabascan Indian, Jesse Toyonek, is lost in a fog after delivering gillnet to a fisherman. When his skiff washes onto a volcanic island, he comes face-to-face with the mummified remains of an ancient Aleut and believes the event marks a new calling for him. He leaves his village to live the way of his ancestors, but survival without a rifle and boat—products of the modern world he hopes to avoid—is impossible.

Together, Patch and Jesse begin a journey of self-discovery through a place shaped by thunderous herds of caribou and vast salmon runs.

The publication date is just around the corner. I'll give details on where to purchase it.

Why I Joined the Glenn Beck is an Idiot Club

 Recently, the fact that I’d joined a Facebook club was posted on my wall for all my friends to see. I was horrified, because I quickly realized that my action may have been taken as a political statement, which certainly wasn’t my intention. I didn’t even know the information would be made public.

The truth is I’m not easily defined politically. My friends belong to a broad range of political persuasions that extend across the spectrum. If I were to categorize them into conservative versus liberal camps, I’m sure the breakout would be evenly split. On most topics—especially those that foster controversy—I disagree with the prevailing views of both groups, because it almost always occurs to me that there are better out-of-the-box approaches to problems than those proposed by the major parties. Yet, despite our differences of opinion, I get along well with all my friends, and for the most part, I appreciate their reasoned political arguments. On the many occasions when we don’t see eye-to-eye, I don’t call them stupid (I don’t even think the word). Neither do I believe they have ulterior motives to deceive me or to steal something of value from me.

To the extent that I’m successful at this, it’s because I do a couple of simple things. I try to remember that if I don’t see both sides to an argument, I don’t understand the argument, AT ALL. More importantly, I attempt to define the argument in terms of personal worldviews. No matter how hard we try to make tough decisions based upon facts, in the end, logic and available evidence leads us to judgments rooted in individual values and beliefs. Two people can possess the same evidence, IQ and ability to reason, but come up with differing conclusions when their values are not shared.

In this context, I believe the conservative-liberal gulf can be described as a metaphorical interaction akin to the following.

• The Conservative says: Get off my porch or I’ll shoot. This is my property. All I want is to be left alone.
• The Liberal says: Don’t be like that. Some of us are getting together to sing Kum Bah Ya. Let’s share in building a better world.

This may be an oversimplification, but as a model of the world it explains a lot. It describes, for example, the conservative distrust in government, not to mention the desire for a strong defense, love of guns and insistence upon strict property rights that translate into an appreciation for capitalist principals. This also describes the liberal reaction to problem solving, which is to organize centrally in order to accomplish notions of a common good.

The points I hope to make here are two-fold. First, there is nothing wrong with wanting to be left alone to enjoy the fruits of one’s own labor, just like there is nothing wrong with striving to work with others to promote a better world. In fact it can be argued that both are legitimate human claims central to ideals contained in the Declaration of Independence. Second, because they are both legitimate claims, we should never demean people just because they espouse one of the worldviews over another. Calling one group Pollyanna and the other Scrooge misses the central idea upon which each political platform is based. It’s even worse—no, it should be deemed unacceptable—to impugn people’s intelligence and honesty because of a legitimate value they hold dear. If we can’t get beyond the name calling and histrionics, and understand the basis for each others’ hopes for the nation, the gulfs that separate us will ever widen.

For this reason, there are groups of people I do despise passionately. They are those, on both sides of the political spectrum, who shout epithets, invent conspiracies, and question the sincerity, compassion and intelligence of individuals for the sole purpose of disparaging personal philosophies. It bothered me when our previous president was called a liar for his role in invading Iraq. It bothers me just as much that the same word is being used to describe our president today for his efforts to grant greater access to healthcare. Having a different worldview, in and of itself, doesn’t make one a liar (or a fascist, warmonger, socialist, moron, dictator, baby-killer, or any of the number of epithets being slung about like so much crap). The people who claim otherwise cry wolf on the camera and laugh all the way to their private jets. They don’t deserve a platform, nor do they warrant our attention. They relish in our hate. They seek to divide us.

Let's hope they don't.