Faith and Family: A Dad's Search for Truth

Brief Reflections on Christopher Hitchens

2011-12-16T08:19:00.026-05:00

The very first time I saw a photograph of Christopher Hitchens - one of many where he held a cigarette in one hand and a whiskey in the other - I thought to myself that here was a man who didn't want to see or be bothered by anyone.

Hitchens was a fantastic writer, articulate, insightful and - more often than not - spot on in his arguments. Each book and article was a gift, and I knew that I was going to be smarter - whether I agreed or not - after having read them. As time passed, the image of the gruff contrarian I had built up in my mind no longer matched the words on the page.

A few years ago, I thought I was on the receiving end of this perceived gruffness. I wrote a letter to Hitchens, asking whether - in lieu of my sending copies of all of his books to him for signing - he would consent to send me several signed bookplates to put in each. Month after month passed without the slightest hint of a response, and I had visions of my letter surfacing in the in-box on his desk and then being tossed aside with a scowl, an exclamation of "Bloody hell!", and the general response that any unwanted bill or letter would get. And then, one day, an envelope appeared; Hitchens had apparently tired of my letter continuing to circulate through his correspondence, thought "I'm putting an end to this NOW!", and sent off a reply. There was no note, no "thanks for writing", nothing - just a half-dozen strips of paper which he had apparently torn from a piece of Xerox paper, scrawled his signature on, and then shoved them in the envelope.

I grinned at the thought of him muttering "That takes care of THAT!" as he dropped the mail in the post.

In June 2010, in conjunction with the book tour surrounding the release of his autobiography, Hitch 22, Hitchens came to Politics and Prose here in Washington. I, of course, was determined not to miss it, expecting to see the grumpy, "leave me alone!" contrarian who didn't really want to be there, but had to if he wanted to sell some books.

However, I quickly discovered something that many people have discovered over the years. Christopher Hitchens, the man who always struck me as not wanting to be bothered with anything, who wanted to be left alone with his computer, his cigarettes, and his liquor, was in fact a charming, engaging, and interested man. During the Q&A session there were those in attendance who knew in their heart of hearts - mistakenly, of course - that they could best him in an intellectual duel. There were the requisite questions about his support for the war in Iraq and his atheism, all of which he answered with great wit and great skill - triumphant in yet more debates. If memory serves, one person who had lost the "Hitchens intellectual challenge" immediately left the shop; even if my memory is flawed, it's still a wonderfully hilarious picture to have in mind.

I met him later, during the signing, and he was absolutely fascinating - one of those rare people who, even in the 2 or 3 minutes you have with them, seems genuinely interested in what you're saying. There were flashes of his wit, a few laughs, and a look of pleasant surprise when I mentioned the name of a mutual acquaintance. It was a wonderful time, one which I really enjoyed - and while pictures weren't allowed, the lady in front of me in line was kind enough to sneak this one for me. Naturally, it didn't catch the laughter or conversation; instead, he's looking at me like - yes - he can't be bothered.

And now he is gone, claimed by the cancer which he had been fighting valiantly for some time. My sister wondered aloud this morning if Hitchens had perhaps now found what he had been looking for - an answer to the debate he had engaged in, with great spirit, for many years: whether the God whose existence he had denied would greet him at the gate.

I don't know how to answer that - but if I had to guess, he probably can't be bothered with it now, anyway...

Your Role in the Nativity: Shepherd, King - or Innkeeper?

2011-12-04T20:53:00.021-05:00

Assume for a moment that you have been transported back two millenia and find yourself in Bethlehem (or Nazareth, depending on which of the scholars you take as more reliable) the night of Christ's birth. Now that you are there, let's say that you have the opportunity to be any of the secondary characters involved in the event (aside from Mary, Joseph or the child).

Who would you be?

Instinctively, I think most people would want to assume the role of one of the shepherds or visitors from the East who have come to praise the child and bring gifts. After all, don't we always want to be someone cast in the best possible light, one who adds something rather than one who impedes, one who assists rather than one who ignores?

But in reality, deep down, aren't many of us - for good or bad, by choice or by impulse - more like the innkeeper? Someone who takes the easy way out and gives less than they could, if anything at all, to help someone in need? Isn't it really someone else's problem? And aren't the distractions in our own lives enough to worry about without having to help another through his or her own difficulties?

Somewhere I heard or read (alas, I can't recall) that the innkeeper was a decent person who legitimately had nothing and did all he could to help - and perhaps felt guilt that he couldn't do more. If true, that would be wonderful - but somehow, no matter how many times I read and hear the Nativity story, the more the pessimistic view of the presumed "host" is the one that tends to win out.

Several years ago, I wrote a post on the cynicism I still tend to feel when approached by people on the street - and how I should work harder to recognize the face of Christ in everyone. Depending on how you look at it, that same cynicism could have been found in the innkeeper - someone who looked with a very wary eye upon the pregnant teenage girl and the disheveled, tired man leading her on a donkey through the darkened streets of the town.

"May we have a room?" - "Do you have a dollar so that I can get something to eat?" In both instances, his answer - and, invariably, mine - are "I have nothing."

In his collection of essays entitled Secrets in the Dark, Frederick Buechner writes of the innkeeper this way:

"'Do you know what it is like to run an inn - to run a business, a family, to run anything in this world for that matter, even your own life? It is like being lost in a forest of a million tress,' said the Innkeeper, 'and each tree is a thing to be done. Is there fresh linen on all the beds? Did the children put on their coats before they went out? Has the letter been written, the book read? Is there money enough left in the bank? Today we have food in our bellies and clothes on our backs, but what can we do to make sure that we will have them still tomorrow? A million trees. A million things.

"'Until finally we have eyes for nothing else, and whatever we see turns into a thing. The sparrow lying in the dust at your feet - just a thing to be kicked out of the way, not the mystery of death. The calling of children outside your window - just a distraction, an irrelevance, not life, not the wildest miracle ofthem all. The whispering in the air that comes sudden and soft from nowhere - only the wind, the wind...'"

Examine the way you help others - not through an intermediary organization, or by sending a check to nameless, faceless person, but when confronted face to face by someone in need. Will you be a shepherd and do what you can by simply offering praises for the person for who they are? Will you be as the visitors from the East, who brought gifts of enormous value and gave them freely? Or will you be like the innkeeper, who says "I have nothing here; go over there?"

Bishop Gene Robinson: What's Christian About Christian Leadership?

2011-10-31T13:10:00.003-04:00

What Pushes a Man from Activism to Revolution?

2011-06-26T18:15:00.011-04:00

What is it that moves a man from activist to violent revolutionary? Where is the very fine line between the two located, and what pushes people to - and over - that line?

I kept thinking about these this weekend as I watched a series of films on Cuba, the Cuban Revolution, and Che Guevara. The questions seemed particularly relevant as I was watching "Motorcycle Diaries", the story of Guevara's 1952 journey across South America with his friend Alberto Granado, based on both Guevara's journals and a book written by Granado. During the course of their journey - especially in Peru where, following the breakdown of their motorcyle, they were forced to accept rides in trucks - they came in direct contact with a significant number of people who, regardless of their country, were subjected to extreme poverty.

A husband and wife who left their children with trusted friends so that they could travel to find work in the mines. A Peruvian farmer who banded together with other farmers to help each other with their crops and plowing, and who was also forced to move in order to earn money to send his children to school. A hospital devoted to the care of those suffering from leprosy, but which was split in half by the Amazon River - patients on one side, staff on the other. Indigenous people who, as Guevara noted, were refugees in their own country.

All of this changed Che, and he became intensely interested in helping to change a system were people were faced with injustice every day and where (and I cannot recall where I read this) tomorrow is the only horizon these people can see. But what happened? How did he go from a physician and someone who was devoted to helping people overcome the obstacles in their lives to one of the leaders of a nation which executed thousands of political opponents - many at his own direction?

This, of course, brings me back to my original question: what pushes a man over that line, from activist to revolutionary, doctor to murderer? Guevara's life is already an enigma - a saint to some, a terror to others. Two sides to the same coin, perhaps - hero and villain? His entire life seems divided by that fine, but very visible line - but what forces moved him, and many others throughout history, across that divide?

Tweeting the Scriptures: Bad for the Church or Good for the Faith?

2011-05-15T09:45:00.009-04:00

Lisa Miller, the former religion editor for Newsweek magazine and the author of Heaven: Our Enduring Fascination with the Afterlife, has written an article for CNN.com on the future of the church. Her article, entitled "How technology could bring down the church", compares the general population gaining access to the Bible in the common vernacular four centuries ago - and the changes which that brought about - with the new trend for making the Bible available to today's religious consumers in digital format (tweets, Bible apps, etc.).

At the heart of her article is the statement, "Just like the 500-year-old Protestant Reformation, which was aided by the advent of the printing press and which helped give birth to the King James Bible, changes wrought by new technology have the potential to bring down the church as we know it." Miller then goes on to approach these developments from two angles: first, there is the aspect that people with easier access to the Bible have an opportunity to develop their own thoughts and interpretations and discuss them with others without depending on a pastor or minister to interpret it for them ("the interpretive lens of established authorities", as Miller says). However, as she says in her second point, traditionalists are concerned that this sort of access and freedom of interpretation moves people away from committing to an established "church home".

I personally applaud making the Bible available to a much wider audience, and if it makes people think, question and debate with others about their particular interpretations, so much the better. Yes, I can understand the concerns of those Miller identifies as "traditionalists" that perhaps making the Bible available in these there-at-your fingertips formats will dissuade people from going to Sunday services. But does it necessarily have to?

One point left out of this story - and I have no way of knowing whether the traditionalists didn't mention it, Miller didn't include it, or the editors stripped it out - is Matthew 18:20: "Whenever two or three are gathered together in my name, I am in the midst of them." Isolating this verse, of course, as a rationale for not going to church certainly brings along its own potential for controversy. On the website ChristianCourier.com, columnist Wayne Jackson argues against this verse being used as justification for personal assemblies outside of organized church. Jackson says, "Such attempts to manipulate the Holy Scriptures for frivolous purposes are shameful travesties that bring no credit to those who so employ them."

But Jackson also uses the example of thinking that four people getting together on the golf course will allow Jesus to be in their midst - which I feel is a frivolous example (to use his word). What about a group of four or five who gather with their iPads to discuss the scripture passage of the day? What about a group of ten who gathers in a home for worship and prayer because they no longer feel welcome in the church where they have been congregants for many years?

I suppose that at the end, I agree with Miller's basic premise: that making the Bible available in a manner that utilizes today's technology will change the church as we know it.

But is that necessarily a bad thing?

Bin Laden is Dead - But is Celebrating It a Legitimate Reason to Set Aside Christian Behavior?

2011-05-02T22:02:00.029-04:00

When the news broke late last night that a naval SEAL team had infiltrated Osama bin Laden's compound just outside of Islamabad, Pakistan and killed him, I - along with millions of others - watched as spontaneous celebrations broke out in Washington, New York, Annapolis and Colorado Springs. What should have been a time of pride in America and the work of our intelligence forces and military, however, instead resulted in a time of emotional conflict for me.

In watching the celebrations, I was stunned by the feelings of vengeance and hatred spilling from the mouths of many in attendance. I was appalled by the newspaper headlines screaming phrases such as "Rot in Hell!" Truthfully, I was discouraged by the actions of men and women who were acting in a manner which would have provoked outrage were they watching crowds in the Middle East carrying out similar "protests".

Moreover, I have been feeling a very deep sadness. I remember very well where I was on September 11, 2001, and the tremendous - almost overwhelming - sense of sadness that we all felt on that day, both here in the United States and around the world. At that time, families across the country turned to the church and to their faith to sustain them through that difficult time. In watching the news last night, however, the one thing that I didn't see was anything close to prayer. Instead, I saw many people turning to the Old Testament theology of "an eye for an eye" - which completely discounts the message of the New Testament. And how long can we - how long should we - continue to take an eye for an eye? As a friend of mine pointed out today, if we continue doing so we will put ourselves in a position of being simply the blind leading the blind.

I am proud to be an American, but distraught by much of what I have seen during the past 24 hours from Americans.

I remember what Diana Butler Bass wrote about her daughter's reaction in the aftermath of the 9-11 attacks. After hearing a radio report about what had happened, she asked Diana whether bin Laden was the one who hurt all of those people; when Diana responded yes her daughter said, "Maybe we should pray for him". It was a powerful thing to say then - forgiveness of our enemies, from the mouth of a child - but it seems to have been forgotten since.

I talked to several friends today - all clergy - who were kind enough to listen to my doubts and guilt. Yes, guilt - guilt that if I were to talk about any of my feelings out loud, my feelings of anger at the jubilant reaction of fellow Americans, I would somehow be labeled as being un-American. The question in my mind, despite the guilt, was whether it is even more important to exercise our faith and be models of Christiaity at this time.

One friend asked me - setting aside, for a moment, what I think I should be feeling - what it is that I would express to God. My answer was a rambling one: the frustration at the reaction of many among the crowds. Anger and sadness over the fact that, even today, people cling to the "eye for an eye" mentality. Disappointment that a country where 78 percent of the population claim to be Christian, and yet quickly throw that out the window when it is easier and more expedient to express joy over a death. Sadness that the evil in the world never ends, the killing never ends, and the need for retribution never ends.

Her response really gave me pause for thought: "You know how I keep saying that the things we criticize in others are the things we struggle with in ourselves? Here it is. We criticize them for their anger while the emotion we feel toward them is anger."

Another response also hit me, but from a completely different direction. This, in an email response to me from Archbishop Tutu: "You are wonderfully sensitive and God is proud of you. A Jewish saying when the Israelites were celebrating the drowning of the Egyptians during the Exodus. God asks them, 'How can you celebrate when my children have drowned?'"

Taken together, these two responses have brought together a reflection in my mirror of a flawed person - a person whom God loves, who grieves when people celebrate the death of another, and who has anger towards others because of their anger.

Yes, I am flawed. You are flawed. We humans are all flawed. But if we weren't, I don't think there would have been/be any need for Christ to come into the world.

If there has been any comfort in my struggle today - aside from the support received from family, friends, and one big mentor - it has been the quotations and prayers that many have shared. In particular, many have turned to the "Prayer for Our Enemies" from the Book of Common Prayer. It reads:

O God, the Father of all, whose Son commanded us to love our enemies: Lead them and us from prejudice to truth: deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge; and in your good time enable us all to stand reconciled before you, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

I would echo that: deliver us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge - and deliver me from my doubts, sadness, disappointment, and anger.

People Worshipping in Glass Churches Shouldn't Throw Stones: The Outrage About Rob Bell

2011-04-26T21:39:00.015-04:00

In considering the subject of arguments, it occurs to me that there are two major ways in which one or another of the participants could approach a resolution. One would be to handle it in a diplomatic manner, where the two parties begin from points of agreement and work towards addressing the differences. The alternative would be to argue from diametrically opposed positions, make no effort to move to the middle, and try and shout each other down until one person gives up. It's this latter option which appears to be the dominant method of discussing Rob Bell's new book, Love Wins.

Over the past several days, as I've read numerous Tweets and blog posts attacking both the book and its author, I couldn't help but wonder how many of those throwing stones had actually taken the time to open the book and read it - even if it was just a few pages. One of my pet peeves is seeing someone arguing against a position without the slightest bit of knowledge or evidence to back up their points. It strikes me as being highly lazy - and exceedingly uninformed - to rely on what someone else has to say, rather than taking time to investigate and draw your own conclusions.

If I understand the main thrust of the opposition correctly, the contention is that Bell has tossed aside thousands of years of traditional thought on the subject of heaven and hell, and how many people go to one or the other. The author, many say, is casting a very wide net in his interpretation of what the New Testament says about hell, and in his attempt to get at possible answers to questions that many of us have (how does one get to heaven; what sort of life does one need to leave; is there a hell; how can I avoid going there) he is completely stripping away the significance of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. And a large majority of opponents are tossing out the "u" word - universalist.

Is it just me, or are those who are least confident in their beliefs and position are the ones who argue the loudest? And aren't those Christians who are the most objectionable in terms of their approach to those with whom they disagree the exact opposite of the way Jesus would handle similar discussions?

I want to see for myself and form my own opinions, so I will be beginning the book tonight and blogging my thoughts. Admittedly, I am coming into this with a blank slate; until last week, when his book caused the collective heart to stop beating and he appeared in Time magazine on the list of 100 influential people, I had never heard of Rob Bell. I have no idea what his beliefs are, what he preaches, or just what goes on at Mars Hill Church in Grandville, Michigan. And to me, all of this is good - I have no preconceived notions and (aside from the rantings of an earnest few) no idea what to expect.

Might I end up throwing stones myself at Bell and his book? Certainly - but I should be careful that I'm not throwing them through the walls of my own glass church.

Five Minutes with My Daughter and the Gospel of John

2011-04-25T21:39:00.004-04:00

Every night for homework, my oldest daughter is required to read a short book - typically one from her class, but sometimes one she chooses from her shelf at home - and answer a series of questions about the story. Tonight, she selected a short volume from The Little Golden Book series, about Easter. For the most part, it deals with Easter as a time of rebirth, flowers blooming, sun shining, spring arriving, etc.

But there is one particular picture which shows family looking out the window of their house and gazing at a hill in the distance, upon which stand three empty crosses. When doing the question where she has to list three things that happened in the story, MB chose that scene as one of the three events - and then she paused and asked me how Jesus died.

It certainly wasn't a question I was prepared to receive when we first starting doing her homework, and on short notice it was difficult to come up with what I felt was an adequate - and simple - summary for her. I muddled my way through it - Jesus was hung on a cross and died, he was put in the tomb, and three days later he was once again alive. MB contemplated all of this for a moment, and then asked, "How did he come back to life?" I then went into a short description of how it was as a result of God's power; I thought that would be simple enough.

She again thoughtfully considered my (admittedly) short answer, and then asked, "Well, did Jesus have powers?" "Yes, he did!" I responded. "He made blind people see, he made people who couldn't walk walk, and he even brought dead people back to life." Immediately, MB cut in: "The little girl!" "Yes, the little girl, and a man named Lazarus, too."

MB then asked, "Who was Lazarus?" I went and got my Bible, flipped to the Gospel of John, and started to read. I then stopped and thought, why not give her a little extra reading homework? So I pointed to this passage, and she started to read to me:

When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!" The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him, and let him go." (Jn. 11:43-44)

This story had no grand conclusion; MB said, "Hmmm" and handed the Bible back to me. Then, it was off to draw in her notebook. She may not remember this particular moment beyond tonight, but it's a time with her that I'll remember for the rest of my life.

The Episcopal Church in 140 Characters or Less

2011-03-31T13:16:00.004-04:00

One of the wonderful things I've noted with great pleasure in recent years is the manner in which Episcopal parishes and dioceses across the country have taken to utilizing social media. Blogs, Twitter, Facebook: they have all become valuable tools for bishops, priests, deacons and laity to share the Good News - the Good News of Christ, the Good News of their faith, and the Good News of their works. Being a member of the vestry in my own parish, I subscribe to a significant number of Twitter feeds, read a large number of blogs, and have "friended" or "liked" many parishes and clergy - all in an effort to say the many ways in which the Episcopal Church is at work in the world today.

One of my favorite posters is the Episcopal Bishop of Arizona, Kirk Smith, who writes a great blog and maintains a very active Twitter presence (he can be found as azbishop). During the just-concluded five-day conference of the House of Bishops at the Kanuga Conference Center, Bishop Smith provided a great number of updates on the topics of discussion during the conference, including the Presiding Bishop's vision of the future of the church and the debate over the Anglican Covenant which is still under discussion. For those without the ability to participate in these meetings, tweets such as "PB church needs outward focused ministry. Our primary mission is to world." and "PB shares vision of a local ordained ministry. A sacramental icon in every school and workplace." give us a great sense of the direction of the meetings and the powerful comments being made.

But then, apparently, some in the House raised concerns over tweeting from within the conference, and there was level of debate about what to allow, if anything, in the way of social media reports from within the conference. As reported today by Episcopal News Service, "Arizona Bishop Kirk Smith used the social networking service Twitter to share live updates for much of the meeting, but ceased posting messages when issues of confidentiality were raised by some members of the house. Smith continued to blog throughout the meeting. 'There is a real tension between using the technology we are all becoming used to, and the confidentiality of the house and particularly sending out electronic communication quoting specific people when, in fact, we are simply partway through a discussion and may have reached no conclusions,' retired Bishop Christopher Epting wrote on his blog."

Being a member of a vestry, I recognize that there are certain times where it is necessary to hold closed-door discussions - hence the option of going into executive session. The same is true for the House of Bishops, or any ecclesiastical gathering; certain things should be said in confidence. But by even debating the use of social media in these types of gatherings - and, by implication, debating cutting off a vital form of communication to the wider Episcopal church - isn't the House of Bishops coming close to isolating itself and reverting to the old way of press releases and post-session press conferences? Don't we as Episcopalians have a right to know what is being discussed, without the filter of statements and the passage of time between something being said and it finally reaching our ears? And don't we - shouldn't we - trust the discretion of bishops like Kirk Smith to know when to say something via Twitter and when to avoid it?

One of the elements of the Anglican Covenant now under debate and discussion is that of trust. I would hope that, as we work to resolve the fissures within the Anglican Communion and bring about a strong feeling of trust there, the House of Bishops ensures that we can also retain our trust in them by promoting as much transparency as possible and allowing our elected bishops to let us know what is going on.

Crossan on Grace

2011-03-13T21:47:00.003-04:00

A wonderful passage on the meaning of grace, from In Search of Paul. Crossan presents perhaps one of the simplest ways to understand this often difficult concept.

"Think, for a moment, of a physical example such as the air itself. It is there for us all the time, equally available for everyone in every place at every time. We do not need to do anything to obtain it. We could not do anything to obtain it. It is not a question of whether we deserve it or not. It is absolutely transcendent in the sense that we depend on it totally. It is absolutely immanent in the sense that it is everywhere inside us and outside us, all around us. And we hardly notice it unless something goes wrong with us or with it. But air does demand the reaction of awareness, the reply of acceptance, and the response of cooperation. Or, better, it does ont demand that we breathe so much as we need to breathe to avoid either asphyxiation or hyperventilation. And, if you choose asphyxiation or hyperventilation, do not say that the air is punishing you. It is only and always a matter of collaboration. A grace gift is like a free upgrade but, of course, there too, you need at least to download it."

One Photo from Cairo Shows the Way the World Could Be...

2011-02-03T15:16:00.011-05:00

Take a moment to look at this photo, which is one of thousands taken in Cairo over the past few days. Look at the people in the center who are in the midst of their prayers. Notice the two in the foreground who have linked hands to protect them.

Think about what this photo means to you, and what you think it says about the situation in Egypt.

Now, add one more small point to your contemplation: the two men in front are Christians, part of a much larger group of Christians who have joined hands in a giant circle to protect their Muslim brethren from outside interference during their time of prayer.

Christians protecting Muslims? you may be asking. Aren't Muslims - all Muslims - sworn to kill Christians, who they see as infidels? To my way of thinking, this photograph shows things not as many - pundits, fear mongers, and the like - would like us to see them, but as they really are. Two religions - two faiths - joined together in a time of great upheaval in their country, in a tremendous sign of both respect and trust: Christians protecting Muslims and respecting their right to pray, and Muslims trusting in the support of Christians.

I cannot help but wonder if this is something we would ever see in the United States - not the violence and revolutionary atmostphere, but the joining togther of Christians and Muslims in a time of prayer. And as you think about that, remember the quote of Robert Kennedy: "Some men see things as they are and ask why; I dream things that never were and ask why not?"

Not every man is your enemy, but any man can be your brother.

The Words of Dr. King for a New Generation of Listeners

2011-01-17T16:55:00.014-05:00

As we walked into Washington National Cathedral today for the annual celebration of the life and work of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I was immediately struck by two thoughts. One, the crowd was absolutely enormous, the type of gathering that shows that are many, many people in this city - in this world, in fact (as we were to discover, the congregation included visitors from Brazil, Italy, Australia, and the Netherlands, among many other places) - who are still concerned about the work left unfinished at the time of Dr. King's death.

The other thought which struck me was that, fifty years, ago, this type of gathering would have been rare. A service where blacks and whites could sit together, laugh together, smile together, sing together, and pray together ... a rare event indeed.

Thank God the world into which I was born, and in which my daughters are being raised, is better. Not perfect, mind you, but much better.

Thanks to Dr. King and many others like him.

We were all seated, the prelude ended, and Dean Lloyd took to the stage. A few brief words of welcome, silence ... and then, the voice. Echoing off the walls and vaults of the massive cathedral in a moment that, each time I experience it, brings me to tears ... the voice. The voice of Dr. King, recorded in the pulpit of that cathedral just days before his death, on March 31, 1968. The deliberate, passionate, Spirit-filled, God-driven voice, preaching on the topic, "Remaining Awake Through a Great Revolution". The voice that brought the thousands in attendance this afternoon to a hard stop ... absolute silence ... and, despite my own eyes being closed, I'm certain brought more tears to many eyes.

And these are the words that echoed off of those walls, the words that moved me today, the words that forever tie Dr. King to that sacred space:

"We must all learn to live together as brothers or we will all perish together as fools. We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. And whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. For some strange reason I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. And you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the way God’s universe is made; this is the way it is structured."

We had to leave before the end of the event, before the singing of "We Shall Overcome". But we were there, and more importantly, our daughters were there. No, they may not remember the songs of the Children's Chorus of Washington, or the words of the Interfaith Voices, or the dance of CityDance Early Arts. I do hope, however, that they remember that they were there ... that they heard the voice of Dr. King ... that they saw a community united in tribute to this great man ... that they prayed for justice and peace.

Above all, I hope that they absorb and revisit these moments, these lessons, so that they - and their generation - can continue to overcome.

Bonhoeffer Sermon Series: 1928 Sermon on Psalm 62

2011-01-16T14:56:00.003-05:00

Last week, I began to lead a six-week course on the sermons of Dietrich Bonhoeffer for the adults in our parish congregation. Week one consisted of excerpts of an outstanding documentary on the life of the famed German theologian, entitled "Hanged on a Twisted Cross". Today, we discussed the first of the sermons, delivered by Bonhoeffer on July 13, 1928 during his one year term as vicar for the German congregation in Barcelona, Spain. I'd like to share the background and discussion questions I prepared, as well as the text of the sermon (which is available in the works of Bonhoeffer published by Augsburg Fortress Press).

Background

As part of his training for ordination as a pastor, Bonhoeffer spent the year February 1928 – February 1929 as curate of the Protestant congregation in Barcelona, Spain. At that time, the city of Barcelona had a German population of approximately 6,000, of which 300 were members of the congregation and an average of 50 would attend Sunday services. Bonhoeffer built up the children’s service, organized a Christmas pageant, proposed a plan for religious instruction in the church school, and started a discussion group for older adolescents. Because of his work, he became very popular with the young people and their parents, a cause for jealousy for the pastor Fritz Olbricht. During this year, Bonhoeffer also worked mornings in the office of the German relief organization Deutsche Hilfsverein, founded in 1868 by German expatriates in Barcelona.

Bonhoeffer’s 19 sermons during this time were all based on biblical texts, with all except the one below and one taken from the Song of Songs based on the New Testament. While written out in long sentences and reading like lectures, occasionally Bonhoeffer would memorize his sermons and use notes to deliver them extemporaneously.

Text

“My soul is silent before God, who helps me.” (Psalm 62:2)

Sermon Text

Thousands of years ago, at a distant place far to the east, a pious man, standing amid the storms of life, knelt down before God in the solitude and silence of the holy Jewish temple, deeply partaking of that holy silence, drinking it into the depth of his soul, and spoke these words: “My soul is silent before God, who helps me.” Oh, you ancient singer of our psalm, you sensed the bliss and sweetness of God’s peace on this earth; you are like the image of a gentle dream to us, so longed for and yet so distant, ah, so distant. We love your image, but we no longer understand it, no longer want to understand it. Ah, come close to us, very close in this sacred hour and tell us about the silence of the soul, about silence before God. Imprint your image deep into our hearts and show us something of your bliss, for we know you have much to say to us.

My soul is silent before God. Like a song from ancient times, like a medieval picture, painted on a gilt background, like a childhood memory, this strange, alien statement about the soul drifts down to us in the twentieth century. Is there still something like the soul in an age such as ours, an age of machines, of economic competition, of the dominance of fashion and sports; is this nothing more than a cherished childhood memory, like so much else? It just sounds so strange and peculiar amid the confusion and loud voices extolling themselves, this little word “soul”. It speaks such a gentle, quiet language that we hardly hear it anymore amid the tumult and chaos inside us. Yet it speaks a language full of the greatest responsibility and of profound seriousness; you, human being, have a soul; beware, lest you lose it, lest you awaken one day amid the frenzy of life – in both work and private life – and find that inwardly you have become empty, a plaything of events, a leaf before the wind, driven to and fro and blown away – that you have lost your soul. Watch out for your soul. What should we say about this soul? It is the life God gave us; it is what God loves in us, what God has touched from eternity. It is the love within us and the longing and the sacred restlessness and the responsibility and joy and pain. It is the divine breath breathed into a transitory being. Human being, you have a soul. This is no sweet childhood memory, no dream, but accurate reality; and thus a weighty, serious responsibility has been laid upon us and for which we will one day have to give account in eternity.

Now, however, perhaps this person or that realizes indeed that he has a soul. But, ah, look what has become of it down through the years! A restless, distracted, tormented, despondent thing, shaken to and fro by daily events, a thing that knows not whether it’s coming or going. And now it encounters the statement: my soul is silent before God. It is primarily about this silence of the soul that we want to speak today.

We can probably say that not many people have even an inkling what this silence of the soul means, fewer still are those who know something of the silence of the soul waiting for God. Yoked to the day’s work, people hardly have time to catch their breath before society – so-called entertainment – seizes them and sucks what energy is left over from work. No wonder that, left alone, people are only able to attend to their physical needs. And yet our entire being thirsts for solitude, for silence, since ultimately we have all, at one time or another, experienced such silence and have not forgotten the benefits of such hours. Today, however, we are not talking about being silent while reading a book or listening to a song or something like that, but about being silent before God.

But what does this mean? Ah, it is something so great and so sacred that one can speak of it only in human metaphors. My soul is silent before God. Like the infant who is nursed and becomes calmed at its mother’s breast and finds all its wishes fulfilled here, like the young boy who is speechless gazing upon his hero and leader, like the crying child that yearns for its mother to lay her gentle hand upon its brow and dispel and silence all its cares, like the young girl who quietly reflects on the prospect of one day becoming a mother, like the man who finds all his passion and restlessness calmed by the gaze of his beloved woman, like the person who becomes quiet before the eyes of a loyal friend, like a sick person who is calmed by the physician, like the old person who becomes calm before the face of death, like all of us who are silenced in reverence and awe at the heart of nature, under the starry heavens – just so should the soul be calmed from all the restlessness and chaos and haste, before the eyes of God; here it should quench its thirst, here its desire should become bliss, here its longing should be fulfilled, here it should find rest from the heat of the day in the protective shadow of God’s hand, here it should cast off its burdens and troubles and become free and calm beholding God, here fall silent and quiet in worship and reverence. My soul is silent before God. Becoming silent means genuinely not being able to say anything, means feeling as if an alien but beneficent hand is laid upon our lips, telling us to be silent. Being silent means blissfully beholding the one who is yearned for, the beloved, means surrendering oneself entirely, capitulating before the superior power of the other, the wholly other; it means not being ourselves for a moment but rather merely beholding the other, but it also means waiting, specifically for what the other has to say to us. Being silent before God means yielding to God the right to have the first and last word concerning us, and means accepting that word whatever it may be, for all eternity. It means not trying to justify oneself but rather listening to what God might have to say about our justification. Being silent does not mean doing nothing but means breathing in God’s will, means tensely listening and being prepared to obey. The hour of silence is an hour of serious responsibility, of being genuinely serious with God and with ourselves, and yet is also always an hour of bliss since it is an hour lived in the calmness of God. My soul becomes silent before God. That means speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.

My soul becomes silent before God, who helps me. God’s hours are hours of succor and comfort. God has an answer for every distress of our soul, and this answer is always one and the same regardless of who receives it. To the man who rescues himself out of the frenzy and commotion of daily life, to the sick person who comes to God in misery, to the person lamenting the death of a loved one, to those burdened by guilt, to the man and the woman, the elderly and the child, God speaks the enticing words: I love you. Admittedly, the fire of God’s love consumes all that is inauthentic and bad in human beings, and that hurts profoundly. Being silent before God means being small before him; it creates the pain of remorse, but also the joy of love and grace beyond all measure. My soul is silent before God, who helps me. If our soul has but found its way to God, he will help us as surely he is God. I listen attentively to God’s word and drink deeply of it, the statement: It is you, you I love, abide with me, I am your real father.

Well, of course, some might say, you’re telling us all these wonderful things, but why is it that so few actually get this far? It must be something that requires special power or grace.

There are two simple reasons. First, we are afraid of silence. We are so accustomed to commotion and noise that we are uncomfortable amid silence; we flee silence; we race from activity to activity to avoid having to be alone with ourselves for even a moment, to avoid having to look at ourselves in the mirror. We are bored with ourselves, and often the most desperate, wasted hours are those we are forced to spend by ourselves. Not only are we afraid of ourselves, of discovering and unmasking ourselves, but even more we are afraid of God, that he might disturb our aloneness and discover and unmask us, that God might draw us into partnership and do with us whatever he wants. Because we fear such unnerving, lonely encounters with God, we avoid them, avoid even the thought of God lest he suddenly get too close to us. Suddenly having to look into God’s eyes, having to be accountable before him, is too dreadful a notion; our perpetual smile might fade, things might get completely serious in a way to which we are not at all accustomed. This anxiety characterizes our entire age. We live in perpetual fear of suddenly being seized and called to task by the infinite and would rather socialize or go to the movies or theater until we are finally carried to our grave, anything rather than having to bear a single minute before God. Let us examine ourselves and see to whom some of this does not apply. That is one reason. The other is that we are too lethargic and lazy in our religious lives. Maybe we once made a good start, but, ah, how quickly it lapsed. We protest that we are just not in the mood, that religion is a matter of mood and one must wait until that mood comes upon us; and then we wait, and often wait for years, maybe even to the very end of our lives until we are once again in the mood to be religious. But this position conceals a great deception. Fine, let religion be a matter of mood; but God is not a matter of mood; God is there even if we are not in the mood to come together with him. Does this thought not worry us at all? Those who depend on their moods become impoverished. A painted who paints only when in the mood will not get very far. In religion, as in art and science, times of high tension alternate with times of sober work and practice. Contact with God must be practiced; otherwise we can never find the right tone, the right word, the right language when God surprises us. We must learn the language of God, laboriously learn that language; we must work so that we, too, are able to speak with God. Prayer must also be practiced through serious work. Confusing religion with emotional daydreaming is a grievous, fateful error. Religion takes work, perhaps the hardest and certainly the most sacred work a person can undertake. It’s pathetic to make do with the assertion, “I’m just not religiously inclined” – when there is a God who wants us. That’s just an excuse. No doubt, it’s more difficult for some than for others. But we can be sure that no one has attained it without serious effort. And this is why silence before God, too, requires work and practice. Such silence requires the daily courage to expose oneself to God’s word and allow oneself to be judged by it; it requires the spontaneity to rejoice in God’s love every day. But this already brings us to the question: What are we supposed to do to penetrate through to this silence of God? Here I can say a bit to you based on my own modest experience. None of us is so rushed that we cannot find ten minutes a day during the morning or evening to be silent, to focus on eternity alone, allow eternity to speak, to query it concerning ourselves, and in the process look deeply into ourselves and far beyond ourselves, either by reading a couple of biblical passages or, even better, by becoming completely free and allowing our soul to travel to the house of the Father, to the home in which it finds peace. And those who seriously apply themselves to such exercises day after day will amply experience the golden abundance of the fruit such hours yield. Of course, it’s always difficult at the beginning, and anyone who embarks on such an undertaking will feel rather funny, indeed perhaps even quiet empty the first few times. Before long, however, the soul is filled; it begins to come alive and feel stronger, experiencing the eternal silence residing in God’s love, and the distress and worries, restlessness and haste, noise and commotion, tears and anxiety are all hushed within it, and it becomes silent before God, from whom its salvation comes. My soul is silent before God, who helps me.

One law of the world is that there can be no rest and satisfaction in it. No passion is totally quenched here. Fulfillment itself already contains the urge to move beyond what has been attained. The rich want to get richer, the powerful more powerful. The reason is that in this world nothing is whole, so that every success, be it ever so great, is still only a partial success. If peace and quiet are to be found anywhere, that can only e where the whole has already been attained; but that means in God. All human activity and searching is ultimately directed toward God and finds its ultimate fulfillment only in him. Only in God is there genuine peace and quiet, something the great church father Augustine superbly expressed nit h words, “You have made us for yourself, and our soul is restless until it rests in you.” May God grant something of this rest to all of us, may God draw us into his stillness and solitude, and we will be grateful to him. Amen.

Discussion Questions

1. What was your overall impression of the sermon?

2. Bonhoeffer say that being silent before God means yielding the right for God to have the first and last word. How difficult is that for you to do?

3. Are you afraid of silence? Do you try and fill your life with so much to do to avoid it?

4. Do you agree with Bonhoeffer’s contention that being silent before God can create the pain of remorse (along with joy) – particularly since part of silence can be used for confessing and/or unburdening?

5. Bonhoeffer talks about the soul being lost in a time such as ours (with machines, economic competition, etc.). Do you ever feel that you have lost track of your soul because of the rush of life? How much attention tdo you pay to your soul?

6. Is there anything Bonhoeffer has said with which you disagree?

7. In a letter written by Bonhoeffer one month after this sermon, he said he used to believe that sermons had a center, and that if that center was hit it would move anyone or confront them with a decision. He later changed his view, but I’m curious as to whether this sermon moved or confronted you.

In Honor of Dr. King: A Mighty Eloquence

2011-01-15T12:11:00.004-05:00

Today, on the occasion of the birth of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I have nothing to say. No original thoughts about this remarkable man are coming to mind. I have no eloquent comments about his life and legacy. I have no tears of my own to shed, for as the event in Tuscon last week have proven, individual tears have been lost in the torrent that today, 42 years after his death, is still being shed by the nation.

In truth, I don't feel like I should have anything to say. I shouldn't try to be eloquent or original. I should let Dr. King's eloquence speak for itself. As such, the most appropriate thing I can do is to share his own words. Here, I have included an excerpt from his sermon, "The Drum Major Instinct", delivered in February 1968. The entire sermon is worth reading - and listening to; it is available in many places on the Internet.

As you read this excerpt, thing of this man, his life, and his legacy. Think of how far this nation has come in 42 years ... and thing about how far we still have to go.

And every now and then I think about my own death and I think about my own funeral. And I don't think of it in a morbid sense. And every now and then I ask myself, "What is it that I would want said?" And I leave the word to you this morning.

If any of you are around when I have to meet my day, I don’t want a long funeral. And if you get somebody to deliver the eulogy, tell them not to talk too long. And every now and then I wonder what I want them to say. Tell them not to mention that I have a Nobel Peace Prize—that isn’t important. Tell them not to mention that I have three or four hundred other awards—that’s not important. Tell them not to mention where I went to school.

I'd like somebody to mention that day that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to give his life serving others.

I'd like for somebody to say that day that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to love somebody.

I want you to say that day that I tried to be right on the war question.

I want you to be able to say that day that I did try to feed the hungry.

And I want you to be able to say that day that I did try in my life to clothe those who were naked.

I want you to say on that day that I did try in my life to visit those who were in prison.

I want you to say that I tried to love and serve humanity.

Yes, if you want to say that I was a drum major, say that I was a drum major for justice. (Amen) Say that I was a drum major for peace. I was a drum major for righteousness. And all of the other shallow things will not matter.

The Joy of Discovery: My Side Trip with Henri Nouwen

2010-09-08T10:55:00.012-04:00

To my list of favorite Christian teachers and authors, you can now add Henri Nouwen. I've had a few of his books on my shelf for some time, waiting to be read, but it wasn't until this week - when I began reading Befriending Life: Encounters with Henri Nouwen - that I discovered just how powerful an impact this man made on so many lives.

My initial thought when starting on this side journey was to mentally slap myself for not having turned to his writing sooner. Then again, don't we always approach things in our lives exactly how we are supposed to, and at exactly the right moment? Yes, Nouwen was on the shelf (or, in my case, the bedside table), but the time wasn't right until this week. And what an exciting and emotional time it has been.

Here was a man who was one of the most acclaimed teachers and lecturers in the world, holding professorships at Harvard and Yale before moving into the L'Arche Daybreak community in Canada and living out the rest of his life as a friend and mentor to many. And yet his writing - and the memories others have of their time with him - are sprinkled, sometimes more heavily than others, with the same doubts, indecision, insecurity, and need for acceptance that we all experience. Rather than hiding these feelings or attemtping to overcome them, this renowned Catholic priest used them to relate to people and to help them with their own struggles and spiritural journeys.

My journey with Nouwen will indeed be a long one, and I look forward to reading as much of his work as I can get my hands on. And if that writing is anything like this excerpt below, taken from Befriending Life, it will be a great journey indeed.

"The key to gratitude is to cultivate surprise. Surprise!

"Let's say I call you up and say that I am coming over soon and I am bringing you flowers. You might be very happy. You also might build up expectations about when I would get there and how nice the flowers would be. Indeed, you might build up such a strong sense of what was going to happen that when I actually got there and had only three daisies you might be disappointed.

"But imagine instead that I call you and say that I will be coming by and then, when you open the door, there I am standing with a bunch of flowers. Surprise! I have brought you a gift that you didn't expect. You would be touched and happy ... and grateful."

A Fleeting Glimpse of Bobby Bowden

2010-08-29T22:00:00.007-04:00

In case you haven't heard, Coach Bobby Bowden has a new book.

Of course, I don't know how you couldn't have heard - he's been all over the airwaves playing it up, and answering the inevitable (and oft-repeated) questions about the circumstances surrounding his dismissal from Florida State. Now it's fair to say that I've never been much of a Florida State fan, preferring instead to side with my home-state Virginia Tech Hokies, but Bowden to me has always been an entertaining guy. His interviews and press conferences have always been fun to watch, and over the years he's never seemed to lose touch with his Alabama roots (even with his connections to FSU and West Virginia).

Over the past few days, I've learned more about him than I have in previous years, and I like what I've learned. It's certainly been enough to tempt me to read more, and as such I'm looking forward to reading his new volume, Called to Coach. But the interviews and book tour also jogged memories of my brief brush with the coach four years ago - if you call being in the same stadium with him as a brush.

In 2006,I was in Florida for a relaxing weekend with several guys from my college days, and we had stopped at FSU to pick up one of our friends who still worked for the university. While waiting to depart, I was given a quick peek inside the football stadium - an impressive sight indeed. I was surprised to find that Bowden, his coaching staff and the team had just finished up a practice and were gathered in the center of the field. He was certainly easy to pick out - the famous hat being a great homing beacon - and because I had my camera with me I was able to snap several photos.

Coach, I know the Seminole nation will miss you and your presence on the field, but I hope you enjoy retirement and your time with the family. Your team cost the Hokies a national title a few years back, and that's a grudge that I know will hang over Blacksburg for a long time, but you were always a class act. College football will definitely not be the same this season.

These pictures are for you...

What is Poverty? William Stringfellow Answers...

2010-08-24T15:09:00.008-04:00

William Stringfellow - lawyer, activist, lecturer and Episcopal lay theologian - moved to an apartment on 100th Street in Harlem in 1956 and set about the work of representing the residents of that depressed area of New York City. As he documented in his autobiography, My People is the Enemy, he made this move out of a sense of Christian duty to those among his fellow man who were suffering most, despite the numerous other opportunities he could have pursued in private practice or as part of a large firm.

During his time in Harlem, he was exposed to the severe poverty in which his friends, neighbors and clients were living, and which many today often choose to ignore - whether by averting their eyes and thus not seeing, or by contributing money and calling it a day, rather than rolling up their sleeves and jumping right in. Forty-four years have passed, but the circumstances which Stringfellow witnessed first-hand are as present today as ever.

And what is poverty? I think Stringfellow's summary answers that question beautifully - not in terms of the imagery, but in his writing style. As you read, I want you to ponder the poverty in your own neighborhood, town or city, and reflect on what you have done lately to help. What you see here isn't confined just to Harlem, or Mobile, or Washington, D.C. - it's anyplace where we really take the time to look and see.

"Poverty is a widow on welfare whose landlord cuts the heat, knowing that the winter will end before a complaint is processed. Poverty is a drug addict who steals from his own family or pawns the jacket off his back to get another 'fix.' Poverty is being evicted from a housing project because the project manager determines that the family is 'undesirable.' Poverty is a Puerto Rican shopkeeper whose store is stoned when he tries to relocate south of the 96th Street boundary of East Harlem. Poverty is an adolescent with a tested I.Q. of 130 who cannot read or write the English language well enough to get other than the most menial jobs. Poverty is the pay-off to a building inspector not to report violations of the building code. Poverty is a young couple who marry because that is the only way to get out of the tenements and into a project, and whose marriage fails, and who have neither the grounds for a divorce in New York nor the price for a divorce in another jurisdiction. Poverty is being awakened in the middle of the night by a welfare investigator who demands to search your apartment to be sure you are not cheating the taxpayers. Poverty is the incapacity to complain against the landlord because you can't afford to take a day off from your job or from minding the family to go to court. Poverty is a kid who wants to be adopted to escape from the slums but whom no one wants. Poverty is a boy whose father has thrown him out, a boy who needs a place to stay. Poverty is living in darkness after the electric current has been turned off as a fire hazard, and waiting for six or seven days until someone is sent to repair the obsolete wiring.

"Poverty is the enormous burden of waiting - waiting for hours for a doctor to examine a sick child at the hospital clinic, waiting for an interview with a social worker, waiting at the employment office, waiting in line for what the government ironically calls 'surplus' food, wiating for everything, everywhere you go.

"Poverty is the vulnerability to death in its crudest forms. Poverty is the relentless daily attrition of contending with the most primitive concerns of human existence: food and cleanliness and clothes and heat and housing and rest and play and work."

Why be an Episcopalian? Ask Our Presiding Bishop...

2010-08-22T16:53:00.002-04:00

Does the American Anglican Council Even Care About Fact?

2010-08-01T12:28:00.004-04:00

And the misrepresentation continues.

In the July 30, 2010 newsletter penned by the Rev. Phil Ashey of the American Anglican Council, the July 18 visit of Bishop Gene Robinson to Foundry United Methodist Church was summarized in this way: "Bishop Gene Robinson of the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire preached at Foundry United Methodist church in Washington, DC, and urged them to 'get in trouble' by conducting same-sex marriages to show 'God's limitless, boundless and unimaginable love.'"

Again, this is not what Gene said - what he said was, ""When I ordain deacons, I tell them that I expect them to get into some Gospel trouble. If they're not in trouble, I wonder if it is the Gospel that they are preaching." This misrepresentation of his remarks perpetuates the incorrect information floating around. I can only assume at this point that those in the AAC don't have any interest at all in knowing the facts; it seems that all that is important to them is what THEY think, and facts be damned...

Friday Miscellany: Jack Spong, Lambeth, and Other Thoughts

2010-07-30T10:20:00.021-04:00

In his column for this week, retired Episcopal Bishop Jack Spong offers a brief discussion of the General Epistles in the New Testament. I was amused to find, in his concluding paragraph, that the Bishop offered this assessment of the General Epistles:

"Not all parts of the Bible are equally holy. The General Epistles we have looked at in this column do not come close to some other parts of the New Testament in either integrity or power. They are, however, 'in the book' and so, to complete our journey through the Bible, I include them. I urge you to read them once. It will not take more than ten minutes. Then you will have done it and you will never have to do it again, for, some parts of the Bible, once is enough."

I can't help but wonder what Eusebius thought about these particular epistles when he compiled the current form of the Bible in 336 - and what the general consensus was at the Council of Nicaea on these texts. Did they, too, think that "once was enough"?

-------------------------

While reading The Episcopal Church in Crisis, by Frank Kirkpatrick, I ran across the following quote first spoken by the Right Reverend Simon Chiwanga, retired Bishop of Mpwapwa Diocese in the Anglican Province of Tanzania: "Forcing your point of view by excluding from your circle those who disagree with you, or by compelling acceptance, is to usurp the place of God."

That line is worded in such a way as it could be used on both sides of the current debate within the Anglican Communion, but I can't help but wonder how many people in can honestly say they are taking those words to heart? Since 2003, how many people - particularly on the side of the more conservative folks who have broken away from the Episcopal Church and are now aligned with the Southern Cone bishops - have stopped for one moment to think that they are trying to stand in God's shoes?

-------------------------

Conservative Anglicans are quick to claim that the rulings which come out of the once-a-decade Lambeth Conferences should be acknowledged as "law" by the 38 global provinces. The recommendations on such things as the prohibition on further consecration of gay or lesbian bishops should be viewed as gospel until such time as the entire Communion approves such moves, or only after consideration is given to the potential impact on the worldwide Church.

But are these conservatives being selective on which proclamations they accept? Shouldn't they take that same view on all statements coming from Lambeth? I'm convinced that they are.

In looking at some previous Lambeth and Anglican Consultative Council statements, I can't see where the entire Anglican Communion is living up to the statements to which many feel we should all strictly adhere. Some examples: (1) Lambeth 1948 - attendees affirmed that Scripture "should be continually interpreted in the context of the Church's life; (2) Lambeth 1988 - attendees reaffirmed the "historical position of respect for diocesan boundaries and the authority of bishops within those boundaries"; (3) Anglican Consultative Council 1993 - affirmed that it "would be inappropriate to any bishop to exercise episcopal authority within a diocese without first securing permission from the resident bishop." (The last quote is on page 47 of the Kirkpatrick book.

Today, I often hear that Scripture is set and shouldn't be interpreted in the context of the modern world. The move of the breakaway Episcopal congregations in the United States to invite the oversight of African bishops without the approval of their diocesan bishops (with, to my knowledge, the exception of the Dioceses of Forth Worth, Pittsburgh, and a few others, where the bishops did give approval for alternate Anglican involvement) flies in the face of the 1988 and 1993 statements.

So why the selectivity? I didn't realize this was an either-or set of circumstances when deciding which statements to adhere to and which to conveniently ignore or overlook.

Desmond Tutu on Inclusiveness

2010-07-26T09:25:00.003-04:00

"Jesus did not say, 'If I be lifted up I will draw some.' Jesus said, 'If I be lifted up I will draw all, all, all, all, all.' Black, white, yellow, rich poor, clever, not so clever, beautiful, not so beautiful. It's one of the most radical things. All, all, all, all, all, all, all, all. All belong. Gay, lesbian, so-called straight. All, all are meant to be held in this incredible embrace that will not let us go. All."

- From a sermon preached on All Saint's Day 2005 in Pasadena, California.

A Response to the Reformed Pastor

2010-07-23T14:49:00.003-04:00

As I wrote yesterday, I had been very charged up by a post on the site The Reformed Pastor discussing Bishop Robinson's appearance at Foundry United Methodist Church. Initially, I felt that I would stay out of the debate and talk about it just on my blog; however, in rethinking the situation, how fair or honest am I being about my own views on this situation if I'm not willing to engage in thoughtful dialogue when given the opportunity? Every debate has two sides, and both should be represented.

So today, I went back to his site and took advantage of the opportunity he gives to his readers to post comments. I'll be curious moving forward to see if there is any response or continuation of what I think could - in any circumstance - be a constructive dialogue.

My response:

"One of the great things about our country is the ability to engage in civil debate, and I appreciate having the opportunity to read your views here. However, I (and I should point out that I am a cradle Episcopalian) was in attendance at Foundry UMC when Bishop Robinson spoke, and I am curious as to whether you listened to his sermon in its entirety (which is available on the church's website). I have concerns that much of the anger and pain that people feel about his consecration as a bishop is perpetuated by offering only selected excerpts of sermons, talks, etc.; in reading this post, it appears you relied on a single source - Jeff Walton's piece - and excerpted selectively from that.

"Second, I must take issue with your understanding of the situation in the ECUSA where 'congregations, priests and members are fleeing in droves.' Of the 7,100 individual parishes in the ECUSA, 83 have left - that's 1.1 percent.

"In the comment above, Undergroundpewster refers to feeling that Bishop Robinson has discovered truth and is operating under self-delusion. I would contend that it is not delusion or the discovery of truth, but an understanding of the Bible as he has arrived at it. One of the marvelous things about any Christian denomination is that, for millennia, Christians have engaged in deep study of the Bible and n the area of scriptural interpretation. Just as you and I may disagree over whether the Bible is literally the word of God or rather man's understanding of God's word, our understanding of the Bible and the meaning that we get may also differ. I'm confident that Undergroundpewster would be offended if someone felt that his understanding of the Bible was wrong and called him deluded. No matter our differences of opinion, any debate - in the realm of theology or anywhere else - should always be tempered with respect. My wife and I have differences of opinion from time to time on church issues, but we view each other's opinions - and always those of others - with respect.

"Finally, with regard to your last paragraph, a listening of the complete sermon would clarify the use of Acts 3. I agree completely that God healed the man through Peter and John, but it was not God that allowed the newly-healed man into the Temple - it was that he finally met the rules of man that finally allowed him into the Temple. It was not just healing, however, but a new view of this person by the Temple officials - just as the view of the ECUSA towards ALL of our brothers and sisters has changed and they are being welcomed.

"The sign which hangs outside of each Episcopal parish reads, "The Episcopal Church welcomes you" - there are no asterisks, no conditions, and no requirements. I believe that we are living into that promise through the inclusion of everyone in the various aspects of life in the church.

"Again, thanks for providing a place for this debate."

Attacks on Gene Robinson Are Off the Mark

2010-07-22T22:12:00.012-04:00

At some point during the past few days, I heard someone make the comment that unlike 40 years ago, when we had just three main television networks which each tried to provide a balanced presentation of the daily news, we now have a wide variety of networks that take a much more partisan approach in the presentation of the news. Viewers can now turn to Fox, MSNBC, CNN, or any of a number of other channels which present the news in a way they feel most closely reflects their personal political beliefs.

I'm no longer surprised at the political approach these networks take in doing their jobs - but what I do find disappointing even now is that this style of reporting, both broadcast and internet-based, extends to the coverage of major events in the area of religion. Not only can this coverage also be very slanted to one side of the political spectrum or the other, it is often incomplete, lacking the complete details for readers to make up their own minds, or taking things out of context to achieve the desired effect. Consider how Noah and the flood would be reported today - a story with which nearly everyone is familiar: Noah is told to build an ark, take his entire family and two of every living thing inside, and ride out the 40 days of rain that killed every living thing on earth. In today's news, you would find the headlines for this story in completely new versions: "Noah and family flee flood, ignore cries of neighbors", or "Noah lacks focus on environment, fails to stop melting of ice caps and global flooding", or even "Animal cruelty - Noah locks animals in overcrowded ark; poor living conditions mark 40-day journey".

I suppose this has all come to mind over the past four days as I've read some of the media reports and blog posts based on Gene Robinson's visit to Foundry United Methodist Church on July 18 (see blog post of that same day). To a large extent, much of what I've seen to this point has taken incomplete quotes or material from his sermon and question-and-answer session out of context - obviously in a blatant attempt to curry favor with one demographic of reader or another. Some of the pieces have been composed based on other stories with no research, perpetuating the bias from one post or article to another.

The one that really triggered my negative response was a post by David Fischler on the blog of The Reformed Pastor with the headline "Robinson Tells Methodists: 'Follow Me!'" The opening line reads, "Not content with having brought his own denomination to the brink of schism and collapse, Episcopal Bishop Gene Robinson toddled into Washington to spread the joy to the United Methodists." The writer then goes on to say that "Robinson and his fellow gay activists have turned the Episcopal Church's canon law into a hunk of Swiss cheese" and have led the church into a position where "congregations, priests and members are fleeing in droves."

By this point, I was already deliberating whether to respond directly on the blog and engage or not - and I was a bit hot under the collar. What folks like Mr. Fischler (or is it Reverend Fischler? His blog purports to present "daily thoughts on Christian faith and life in the world from an Evangelical Presbyterian church planter", and yet I saw very little evidence of faith or even of a Christian mindset in the post) don't take into account is that there were many people in the congregation that Sunday, including me. I heard for myself what Bishop Robinson said and how he responded to the questions posed by the parishioners, and I even downloaded the podcast of the sermon so that I can listen to it whenever I feel the urge. I have the facts, and the facts are these:

(1) Never once did he tell the congregation to "Follow me!"; he commented on his understanding of the situation and period of discernment in which Foundry currently finds itself, and stated his hope that they approach their decision prayerfully.

(2) The phrase "brink of schism" has been applied so many times to the Episcopal Church in the last 40 years that it is becoming tiring; does anyone recall the changes to the Book of Common Prayer in 1982, or the Philadelphia 11, or the ordination of women, or the consecration of Barbara Harris? Every time, there was talk of schism - and yet we're still here. Additionally, Bishop Robinson cannot be blamed for anything - he was elected overwhelmingly on the second ballot of his diocese, and his election was consented to by majorities of the House of Deputies and House of Bishops at the 2003 General Convention; if you're going to accurately point the finger of blame, shouldn't you be pointing it at a majority of the Episcopal Church?

(3) Fleeing in droves? Out of 2.8 million members and 7,100 parishes throughout the United States, a total of 83 parishes - that's about 1.1 percent, Mr. Fischler - have left. 1.1 percent. Doesn't a "drove" constitue a higher percentage than that?

I cannot help if the folks over at The Reformed Pastor have taken the time to listen to the sermon or do any independent reading, rather than continuing to spout the same tired lines of fear and hatred that we've been hearing for the last seven years. Based on what I've seen, I think the answer is no - and I certainly didn't see much of the Christian attitude that I've come to know from people over the years anywhere in his post.

I don't begrudge Mr. Fischler the opportunity to say whatever he wants - that's the great joy of having a blog; I enjoy it because it allows me to talk about what I would like and hopefully engage some dialogue. However, I would hope that he - and all media, for that matter - would at least try to be accurate and original in what they say.

Most importantly, shouldn't Christians of all denominations be focused on the larger picture of our world today, rather than on an election of a bishop - most obviously one that the Diocese of New Hampshire wanted - seven years ago? Aren't there more pressing problems in the world? On this note, I would end with the words of the Bishop himself in this regard:

"...the thing that concerns me, from those who want to leave this church in America, or leave it worldwide, is that they're saying that this one thing that divides us is more important than all the other things that hold us together. This one thing. It's more important than the creeds that we've held up for, what, 1,700 or 1,800 years; it is more important than our baptismal covenant; it's more important than the doctrine of the Trinity - the list goes on forever, of the things that hold us together. And these people are saying this one thing trumps all of that. And I just don't believe that for a minute."

Neither do I, Bishop. Neither do I.

Dancing in the Temple: A Morning with Gene Robinson

2010-07-18T15:03:00.027-04:00

Over the years, I've listened to numerous sermons by and interviews with Bishop Gene Robinson and have read much of his book, In the Eye of the Storm: Swept to the Center by God. Since his election and consecration as bishop of the Episcopal Diocese in New Hampshire in 2003, many millions of people here in this country and around the world have come to know this man as a friend, a faithful servant, and a Spirit-filled priest - something which his friends in New Hampshire have known for quite some time.

Today, I was privileged to experience that faith and friendship first-hand when I attended two services at Foundry United Methodist Church in Washington. The Bishop had been invited to participate in the church's Summer in the City - Outstanding Preacher Series after the church's senior minister, Dean Snyder, had heard him preach as part of the 2009 Lenten series at a church in Memphis. (As Snyder noted, his response after hearing Bishop Robinson's sermon was, "Oh, my Lord! An Episcopalian who can preach a sermon!" - a line that got a tremendous laugh at both services.)

Both services - which were geared for very different interests, the first a more praise-and-worship style for the younger crowd and children, and the second more traditional - were very crowded. More importantly, I was so overjoyed to see a tremendous amount of diversity in the congregation; young, old, families, singles, black, white, gay, straight - perhaps the most comprehensive cross-section of the community I've ever seen in any Sunday service. The music ranged from the spiritual "Plenty Good Room" to an arrangment of a piece by Gustav Holst, and performances by the nine-person Jubilate choir, the 21-person chancel choir, the pianist/organist, and a guest flutist. All in all, something to appeal to everyone.

The Bishop's sermon was based on the two readings he had selected for today: Acts 3:1-10, which tells of the healing of the lame man at the Temple by Peter and John; and Luke 4:16-30, which tells of the first time Jesus spoke at the synagogue in Nazareth and was both admired for his ability to preach and reviled because he pointed out that Elijah and Elisha were sent by God not to the Jews, but to Zarephath in Sidon and Namaan the Syrian. He told all of us that the passage from Acts should be the one that speaks to everyone in the LGBT community - just as the lame man was prohibited from entering the Temple because of his infirmity, the LGBT community knows what is like to be barred at the door and prohibited from entering the sanctuary. And just as the man was healed by Peter and John and allowed at that point to walk into the Temple ("dancing in the temple"), those who have been discriminated against by many in today's world have also heard the call of God and now know what it means to celebrate in the center of the church.

As he said, the church is in chaos right now - which is to be expected when there is any sort of change, particularly in the area of the acceptance of the LGBT community over the past 20 years (and after millenia of the status quo). When a child goes to his or her parent to come out, there is a bit of chaos as the parents take it in and determine how to react; Robinson used this as a lead-in to his own situation, which he described as going to his father - the Archbishop of Canterbury - and saying, "Dad, I'm gay." Just as in the family, there is similar chaos as the church determines how to respond (although he feels that it is by and large over, and that we'll gradually see that we're moving on).

The Bishop also talked about the disparity between those who preach fear - the televangelists who use words like "abomination" and "Satan" to describe the LGBT community and are rewarded with increasing contributions - and others "who preach the limitless love of God and get into trouble". He said, "When I ordain deacons, I tell them that I expect them to get into some Gospel trouble. If they're not in trouble, I wonder if it is the Gospel that they are preaching." Later in the sermon, the Bishop said, "At the end of the day, we need to decide if we're going to be admirers of Jesus - or disciples. And Jesus doesn't need more admirers."

The question-and-answer session held after the second service was also very good, and the Bishop was very honest and straightforward in his answers (although as he pointed out, "Now you can see why I can't necessarily talk about this in the pulpit."). It is worth noting at this point that the clergy and congregation at Foundry have been in deep discussion throughout the summer over how they react to Washington's decision to allow same-sex marriage; Reverend Snyder said that the rules of the Methodist Church prohibiting the blessing of same-sex rites on church property or by Methodist clergy are in direct conflict with the constitution of the Methodist Church, which call for service to all regardless of race, status, background, or financial position. Snyder said that he finds himself in a position of being unable in good conscience to continue abiding by the rules of the Methodist Church, and that while the congregation as a whole must vote to determine how they will respond they should do so without worrying about getting him into trouble ("Whether or not I get into trouble is between me and Jesus."). Snyder went on to say that it may come to a point where he must continue his ministry outside of Foundry if he is to continue honoring his conscience.

Because of this, many of the questions directed at the Bishop concerned how the church should respond if they are punished for going against the Methodist rules, whether there are similar circumstances with any congregation in the Episcopal Church, and why the Washington-area clergy - indeed, churches around the country - are the ones speaking most loudly against the LGBT community. The Bishop, response to the variuos questions he received, responded in part: (1) if Foundry is precluded from a relationship with the Methodist Church because of the vote of the congregation, and if Snyder is stripped of his certification/pastoral license, they should continue paying their dues, continuing participating in the life of the national church, and continue speaking up - because of their importance nationally, they should serve as a beacon and speak up; ultimately, another voice at another church will speak up, and it will continue to the point where "the trickle will become a waterfall"; (2) as he looks at those who are critical of those of the LGBT community and who insist on taking an "us versus them" approach, the Bishop wonders, "Is there not as much diversity in the straight community as there is elsewhere? I think people focus on homosexuality so they don't have to focus on themselves."; (3) "Death is not the worst thing; not living your life is the worst thing."; and (4) in dealing with Peter Akinola and the other African bishops who feel that the Bishop's consecration allowed Satan to enter the church, he said, "My job is to love them; how I am treated in return is not important."

At some point during the day, Robinson mentioned some of the controversy going on at the time of his election, and how there was an investigation of false charges that put off the final vote. While these charges were being examined, and he and his family were sequestered, a friend gave him a small piece of calligraphy which read, "Sometimes, God calms the storm - and sometimes, God allows the storm to rage and calms the child." Gene Robinson's visit today was to me an example of God calming "we children" by allowing us to witness the life and example of another of his children. I don't think anyone in that room would argue that we were the recipients of a tremendous gift indeed.

The Silence of the Soul

2010-07-13T14:59:00.003-04:00

My soul is silent before God. Like the infant who is nursed and becomes calmed at its mother's breast and finds all its wishes fulfilled here, like the young boy who is speechless gazing upon his hero and leader, like the crying child that yearns for its mother to lay her gentle hand upon its brow and dispel and silence all its cares, like the young girl who quietly reflects on the prospect of one day becoming a mother, like the man who finds all his passion and restlessness clamed by the gaze of his beloved woman, like the person who becomes quiet before the eyes of a loyal friend, like a sick person who is calmed by the physician, like the old person who becomes calm before the face of death, like all of us who are silenced in reverence and awe at the heart of nature, under the starry heavens - just so should the soul be calmed from all the restlessness and chaos and haste, before the eyes of God.

- Dietrich Bonhoeffer, from a sermon delivered to his congregation in Barcelona, Spain, on the Sixth Sunday after Trinity, July 15, 1928

Are We Priests, Levites or Samaritans: A Parable in Modern Times

2010-07-13T13:39:00.004-04:00

Even at my age, I am still surprised by how one line in a political statement could lead to a debate that evolves in my mind into a theological reflection.

During his introduction of Jack Lew as the next director of the Office of Management and Budget, President Obama made the comment (and I am paraphrasing) that members of both parties are in agreement that we do not want to endure another financial crisis the same as the one that we just went through. Naturally, that jumped out at me – with his choice of words (or those of his speechwriter, I should say), we were in essence being told that the financial crisis was over.

But is it? Unemployment is still at 9.5%. Millions of Americans are still out of work, with a significant number of that group losing their unemployment benefits due to the 99-week maximum having been reached. A report I read today said that for every one job opening in this country there are five potential applicants. And the Senate, locked in its ongoing struggle over extending benefits while trying to find a way to pay for them without increasing our national debt, has not taken any action.

Does that seem like the end of the financial crisis? The banks and lending institutions may be in better shape, and the stock market may be on the rebound, but that means nothing to the 50-year-old husband and father who has been out of work for two years and cannot find a job, or the single parent whose company downsized and left them uncertain about how they will support their children.

A friend of mine – someone I respect a great deal – questioned whether 99 weeks isn’t long enough. If it isn’t, he wondered, how many years are enough?

Immediately, my mind turned to the traveler on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho – the subject of Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10. And I began to wonder: are we a nation of priests, a nation of Levites, or a nation of Samaritans?

I understand very well how much money the government spends each year in supporting unemployed men and women throughout the United States – those who are looking for work, those who have given up, and those who never intended to look to begin with. I understand the need for fiscal restraint and the importance of getting our national books back in balance.

More than that, though, I understand what in mind is a moral obligation to be the friend of those who need help – the Samaritan to the man who was beaten and robbed. If Congress does not extend the benefits, how will we react in the face of situation which will become even worse? Community organizations, relief agencies, and churches can only do so much.

Assuming benefits are not extended, millions more families may become homeless. The roll of those seeking help with increase dramatically. The suffering experienced by so many in this country – the stress, the depression, the uncertainty, the hopelessness – will be compounded more than we can imagine.

What will we do?

Will we be a nation of priests, who come upon the scene and move to the other side of the road to avoid what we find? Will we be a nation of Levites who react in the exact same manner?

Or will we be a nation of Samaritans who stop, offer aid, bandage their wounds, take them to safety, and see things through to the end?

Faith and Costly Grace - Do You Have Them?

2010-07-10T17:17:00.007-04:00

How strong is your faith?

Is it strong enough that you could confidently make a decision to leave a job to return to your home, knowing that you might never be able to leave that home ever again?

Is it strong enough that you would willingly take a course of action in a certain situation that you knew could in all likelihood end with your death?

Having just completed the new biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer by Eric Metaxas and read with great interest how this simple, unassuming pastor, theologian and martyr dealt with these very same issues, these questions have been on my mind quite a bit. Much of my contemplation of his life has centered on trying to put myself in his shoes to see how I would react.

While visiting and studying in New York City in the late 1930s (his second visit there during that decade), Bonhoeffer - against the advice and pleading of many of his close friends - gave up what would have been a safe and secure teaching position in the United States to return home to Germany and confront Hitler's tyranny from the front lines. In the early 1940s, he joined a conspiracy of high ranking military officers, aristocrats, ministers and other other opponents in an effort to assassinate Hitler (culminating in the July 20, 1944 attempt). In both of these instances - indeed, throughout much of his life between 1932 and 1945 - Bonhoeffer acted out of principle and love for his country, but even more out of a sense that what he referred to as "cheap grace" would not be enough.

"Cheap grace," as Bonhoeffer writes in his book Discipleship, "is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate." Bonhoeffer's objective for himself and for all mankind was "costly grace," which as he writes "is the treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it a man’ will gladly go and self all that he has. It is the pearl of great price to buy which the merchant will sell all his goods. It is the kingly rule of Christ, for whose sake a man will pluck out the eye which causes him to stumble, it is the call of Jesus Christ at which the disciple leaves his nets and follows him."

To say that Bonhoeffer in the living of his life sold all his goods, plucked out his own eye, selfed all that he had, left his nets and followed Christ would be a tremendous understatement. But he did so with trust in God and by living out his faith through his actions - and in so doing, achieved the "costly grace" to which he was trying to lead others. He returned to Germany when it was safer to remain, and he became involved in a plot that would end his life when he could have remained on the sidelines - but in both instances, I strongly believe he did so seeing not the hangman's noose, but the cross.

So again, I ask - of you and of myself - how strong is your faith? Could I do in similar circumstances what Bonhoeffer did, and give up safety and security for a route which could end all things for me?

I honestly can't say (but know that God knows), and that is one of the struggles with my own faith. But it wouldn't necessarily be the end, as Bonhoeffer stated not long before he died: "This the end; for me, the beginning of life."

Yom HaShoah: My Day of Remembrance

2010-04-11T15:22:00.014-04:00

Today is Yom HaShoah, the Day of Remembrance - the time in which the world remembers the milions of Jews murdered during the Holocaust. It also marks the beginning of the National Days of Remembrance here in the U.S., highlighted by a ceremony in the Capitol rotunda later this week and the reading of the names at the Holocaust Museum here in Washington.

I was honored to be accepted as one of the many men and women who had asked to be a part of the reading of the names, and so immediately after church this morning I headed into the city to join the ranks of those offering up the names of the victims. Those who were already there were gathered in the Hall of Remembrance, a six-sided domed room that serves as a memorial for the Holocaust victims. Because I was so early, I had an opportunity to sit and to listen and to think as I awaited my turn at the lectern.

As the voices of the readers ahead of me echoed off the concrete walls and around the dome, I sat and stared at the panels hanging in the room which were adorned with just a few words: Treblinka; Auschwitz; Bergen-Belsen; Buchenwald; Ohrdruf. Simple words, yes, but words that symbolize mankind's history of horrible acts committed against itself; words that symbolize the lengths to which one group will go to eliminate another out of hatred; words that symbolize the taking of children from parents, husbands from wives, brothers from sisters.

But then this is what this day is about - words. Hearing a number - six million Jews killed - or seeing pictures is tragic enough, but to read a person's name gives it much more personal significance, much more meaning, much more direct impact. As my turn approached, I wanted to ensure that the few names I was about to read would have an impact, that they would resonate not just off the walls and throughout the dome, but into the hearts of those taking a tour of the museum and pausing to listen to us. I wanted to do my part to make sure that there was one more memory they would take with them, that what they had seen was real and that there were names attached to those men, women and children whose faces they had seen in the exhibits.

And as I finally stood before the microphone, I tried my best to achieve that goal - to not rush my list, but to read each name and give it time to echo and sink in with the others in the room before moving on to the next. Baur. Beer. Beck. Berkstadter. I heard the names coming back to me seconds after I said them, names that I wanted to read perfectly to honor their memory the best way that I could - with my voice.

Had people raised their voices six decades ago, perhaps this could have been prevented. But time cannot be changed, and all we can do now is to ensure that history is not forgotten and most definitely not repeated. As I lit a candle before departing, this was my prayer - and my hope that we would never again see a need to read names such as these.

I think the only way I know to end this post is with the Jewish Kaddish, the prayer for the dead. As you read this and listen to the setting of the Kaddish by Maurice Ravel below, say a prayer for these six million, the men, women and children whose voices were silenced and yet who speak to us still...

Glorified and sanctified be God's great name throughout the world which He has created according to His will. May He establish His kingdom in your lifetime and during your days, and within the life of the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon; and say, Amen.

May His great name be blessed forever and to all eternity.

Blessed and praised, glorified and exalted, extolled and honored, adored and lauded be the name of the Holy One, blessed be He, beyond all the blessings and hymns, praises and consolations that are ever spoken in the world; and say, Amen.

May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us
and for all Israel; and say, Amen.

He who creates peace in His celestial heights, may He create peace for us and for all Israel; and say, Amen.

A Six-Year-Old's Deep Theological Questions

2010-04-11T09:32:00.005-04:00

My oldest daughter has been in a phase lately where incidents in everyday life prompt her to ask questions about God and faith which, for a six-year-old, strike me as very deep indeed. As we were getting ready for church this morning, she again asked me about prayer - except this time, it was for herself, since she has been ill for the past two days.

MB: "Daddy, is it okay to pray for myself to get better?"

Me: "Sure it is. People pray for themselves all the time."

MB: "So it's okay to ask Miss C. [the children's priest at our church] to pray for me when she asks today?"

Me: "Sure."

MB: "What do people pray for?"

Me: "Well, they pray to get better if they've been sick, or they pray for a job if they don't have one, or they pray for a good friend or a member of their family. They pray for anything."

MB: "Did you pray to God when you went to Applebees and got sick [with food poisoning]?"

Me: [holding back laughter] "Oh, yes, I sure did."

This episode is a lesson on two fronts - one, children always ask great questions, and two, they never forget anything. Applebees was four years ago!!

Anne Lamott at Borders: A Gathering of Imperfect Birds

2010-04-10T08:47:00.016-04:00

I'll start off by being direct: I have never known what to make of Anne Lamott.

Several years ago, a good friend of mine (who is a priest in the Episcopal Church and godmother to our youngest daughter) and I were wandering through the bookshop at Washington National Cathedral when she picked up a copy of Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith and said, "You should really read Anne Lamott. She's great." This friend had never steered me wrong before - despite our spirited political discussions, which we approach from opposite ends of the spectrum - and so I cracked open the book. One paragraph into the first page, the thought "What the hell?!?" flashed through my mind, for there in stark black-and-white I was greeted with, "Better to go out by our own hands than to endure slow by scolding at the hands of the Bush administration."

My friend - the friend who had never steered me wrong - had put in my hands a book by a Bush-basher!

Giving her the benefit of the doubt, however, I purchased it, along with a few others, and took them home for a read. It was a struggle for me, however; I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried, get past her political musings. I was angry with Ms. Lamott, that much was certain. And I wasn't going to be very forgiving.

It was then I found the other Anne Lamott: the single mother, the recovering alcoholic and drug addict, the woman who in the midst of one of her darkest moments felt the presence of Jesus as he knelt by her in the corner. The self-professed flawed Christian who said, "You can safely assume that you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do." THIS was the Anne Lamott to whom I could relate, the woman you wanted to hug and tell that everything would be alright, and that people loved her as much as Jesus loved her.

This was the Anne Lamott that I went to see this past Thursday evening at Borders, where she was promoting her newest book, Imperfect Birds. It goes without saying that I was in the demographical minority in the crowd, with lots of women and perhaps 10 men, but it didn't detract from the event by any means. Surprisingly, it started with her doing part of the signing, and she wandered throw the rows of people chatting, signing, humorously chastising those who hadn't purchased her book, and genuinely seeming to enjoy being in the midst of a crowd like ours on an otherwise stormy evening.

And then she got to where a friend of mine and I were seated - what to say to her? Do I say anything?

Of course I say something - and I tell her the story of the first time I saw page one of Plan B. I tell her about the anger and frustration I felt at seeing her political views, and then of how I just wanted to give her a big hug and pull everyone together after getting to the faith side of her life. She paused for a moment - oh, geez, here it comes! - and then said with a smile, "Thank you for telling me that. And I do have some friends who are Republicans!"

With credit to Stewie Griffin, "Victory is mine!" I had won her over! Quickly, though, I figured that that ego-filled thought was wrong; I hadn't won her over, nor had she won me over. It became clear during the Q and A session that we were both victims of something else - for as she said, even among Democrats and Republicans and all of their differences, there is one common factor we all share: faith.

She spoke of her son and grandson, of the difficulties she has experienced in her life, of the rejection that she has received from some Christians (being told once, "If this is your view of Christianity, then I wonder how you'll feel one day when you are burning?"), of writing and solitude and friends and Sunday school ("I teach young children in Sunday school because, well, no one else really wants to do it."). And she read excerpts from her new book, the title of which was taken from a quote by Rumi: "Each has to enter the nest made by other imperfect birds."

And on this evening, this is what we all were: imperfect birds, flawed Christians, scarred humans, who were all sharing the same nest with a woman who as she says "gets it." It was a warm, funny, lively conversation, the kind you would have sitting around your living room on a Friday evening with a group of friends.

At the end of the night, Anne Lamott had a new fan - one who is still slightly disturbed by her political views, although much more forgiving because my own views have moderated in recent years. This is a woman I could see sitting around in a group with my wife and clergy friends and others for a long discussion over wine or drinks (which in itself is flawed since Anne is a recovering alchoholic and addict, albeit one who talks about how great it felt to be high).

What a conversation it would be!

The Archbishop, the Talk Show Host, and the Peabody

2010-03-31T19:42:00.005-04:00

Congratulations to Craig Ferguson for his receipt of the Peabody Award for his outstanding interview with Archbishop Desmond Tutu. If you've never seen it, all three parts are below - it's a fantastic episode!

Haiti and a Unified World ... But Why Did We Wait Until Now?

2010-01-18T21:46:00.014-05:00

No obstacle can stand in the face of a world united.

I've always believed that, and I think we are seeing a demonstration of that right now in the streets and communities of Haiti.

Since the tragic earthquake of January 12, the world has come together in a way that to me - and to many others, I'm sure - is unprecedented. Thousands of American troops and aid workers from around the globe. Millions of dollars contributed by governments, humanitarian organizations, and average citizens - men and women, young and old, contributing amounts as small as a few cents and as large as tens of thousands of dollars to the American Red Cross, the What If? Foundation, Doctors Without Borders, Episcopal Relief and Development, the Clinton Bush Haiti Fund, and countless other groups.

Last night, the world came together in a prayer service for Haiti at Washington National Cathedral. The Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, Katharine Jefferts Schori, was joined by United Nations Ambassador Susan Rice, Haitian Ambassador Raymond Alcide Joseph, Cathedral Dean Sam Lloyd, Cathedral Dean Sam Lloyd, and many other interfaith religious leaders - Christian, Jewish, Muslim - in perhaps the most moving service I've ever attended. Hundreds of people from different faiths, different backgrounds, different demographics, and different economic levels all came together to offer prayers for the Haitian people. A magnificent choir, several wonderful soloists, and the cathedral organ added even more beauty to the event.

Wonderful music. Moving remarks by the ambassador. An inspiring homily by the presiding bishop. The light of hundreds of candles in the dimmed cathedral. Inspirational prayers and readings from the Old and New Testaments. The hopes and prayers of a diverse congregation merging into a single petition to God - save, restore, and nourish the people of Haiti. Each of those pieces came together to form a single picture of how tragedy - and hope - can bring the people of the world together.

But through it all, I've been wondering one thing: why does it take a tragedy like the Haitian earthquake to make the world take action as one? The problems in Haiti - homelessness, poverty, hunger, lack of education - have been persistent there for years; they are present here in the United States and Europe and India and all points around the world. To their credit, there are groups, individuals, and foundations that have been working for years to address the problems here at home and abroad.

But there's no large, unified effort on any of them - and the problems persist. As the Haitian tragedy has shown, the world can tackle any problem when it comes together and puts its collective mind, heart, spirit, and resources together to that end. So why doesn't it? Why can't the nations of the world come together to fight hunger, illness and poverty, in its many forms and locations? Is it because we find it easier to deal with problems outside our borders rather than face those in the next street, the next city, the next state? Is it because the nations allow their pride, their self-assuredness, or their stubbornness to get in the way of what truly matters?

Or is it because even now, in the 21st century, we as fellow travelers through this life with billions of other people still haven't discovered what it is that truly matters: loving our neighbors as ourselves.

The Legend That Is Jerry Falwell - A Personal Reexamination

2010-01-08T10:55:00.015-05:00

It has been nearly three years since Jerry Falwell - old-time Southern preacher, college chancellor, political firebrand, and a man whose legend and legacy has reached near mythic proportions - passed away in his office at the university he built from scratch, nurtured and loved, and even now people are continuing to assess the true scope and ultimate impact of his life and work.

Several new books have come out within the last year which approach him from different angles: Dr. John Killinger's The Other Preacher in Lynchburg, which examines Falwell's impact in Lynchburg, Virginia and across the country through the lens of being a fellow minister in Lynchburg; The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner's Semester at America's Holiest University, which explores Kevin Roose's life as a student at Falwell's Liberty University as told by a Brown student and aspiring writer who spent one semester living, learning and worshipping there; and Macel Falwell's new memoir, Jerry Falwell: His Life and Legacy. Of the three, I have finished Killinger's book (fascinating), am nearly finished with Roose's book (a good look at Liberty from the inside), and will soon be starting Mrs. Falwell's book.

I'm sure that some of you who are here regularly may be asking why I, a born-and-bred Episcopalian with a more moderate view on certain social issues, would spend thirty seconds on Falwell let alone invest in three books (and possibly read some of his own work, ghost-written or otherwise). It's a fair question, and I'll be short and direct with my response: I have absolutely no idea. Had you asked me three weeks, three months, or three years ago whether I would be interested in exploring Jerry Falwell's life as a personal study, I would have laughed.

Now, I'm not laughing.

As a native of Lynchburg and someone who spent the first 22 years of my life in that town (a town that I still love), I and everyone else were perpetually in Falwell's shadow. Even today, when I tell folks where I come from, they invariably respond, "Oh! You make Jack Daniels!" And just as predictably, my answer is always, "No, we made Jerry Falwell." It seemed that the two were inseperable: Lynchburg was Jerry Falwell, and Jerry Falwell was Lynchburg. I can remember from a young age the Sunday morning broadcasts of The Old Time Gospel Hour that were invariably running in the background as my family got ready for church, whether we were watching or not, and I can still remember Falwell's booming baritone going up and out from behind the pulpit at Thomas Road Baptist Church. In fact, that is precisely the reason I chose this particular picture to accompany the post - it is from the period in my life containing my earliest awareness of who he was.

Remarkably, in 22 years in a town the size of Lynchburg, I only saw Falwell in person three times: once at an annual performance of TRBC's Living Christmas Tree; once at a Sunday morning service at TRBC (where I witnessed perhaps the greatest repeat passing of collection plates and baskets during a sermon that I have ever seen); and once as his great, black SUV nearly ran a friend of mine and I into a ditch as the good reverend was pulling out of a carwash just minutes from Liberty University. The once-every-every-seven year sightings are even remarkable now when I consider that I went through a phase where it seemed that every young lady I asked out on a date (some successfully) was a student at Liberty, attended TRBC, or both.

So again, the question comes up: why am I doing this now? I still don't know; perhaps it's part of a larger reexamination and review of my life in Lynchburg, a life where Falwell was always lurking on the edge of things. Perhaps it's part of my exploration of other denominations and faiths outside of my own Episcopal background - and no single denomination or faith was bigger in Lynchburg than TRBC (25,000 members, if I remember correctly). Or maybe it's a subconscious desire to move beyond - after nearly 40 years - some subconscious notions that have built up, to at long last decide for myself whether he truly was a sinner or a saint, a hero or a villain, a priest or a charlatan, a man who really loved his hometown or who simply saw the advantages of being able to build an empire by never leaving his hometown.

I can't say where this is going - I only know that I'm going to enjoy the ride.

Where Has the Time Gone?

2010-01-01T19:34:00.003-05:00

January 1, 2010 - can the past year, much last the entire decade, have already passed that quickly? It doesn't seem like it's been 10 years since A. and I were camping with friends in rural Georgia, wondering if Y2K would really lead to the downfall of civilization and leave our little merry band around the campfire as the future of mankind (okay, nothing so dramatic; we were really wondering whether the gas stations would be open so that we could drive home). The past decade has certainly been eventful - for the country and the world, yes, but especially for my family.

Highlights:

September 11, 2001 - One of the days people will remember years from now by asking, "Where were you when you heard?" I was working as district representative for a member of Congress from Alabama, and on that particular morning I had left to travel the district after seeing the aftermath of the first plane in New York. Everyone knows how the day played out, but it is still vivid for me - the drive back to the office, the total silence as we all watched the events unfold on television, A. and I going to our favortie hangout that evening and listening to President Bush's speech while the entire bar was utterly silent.

2002 - My first boss in Congress announces his retirement, and my chief of staff runs for and wins the seat that November. It marked a big transition for me, from district representative to press secretary - and an entirely new world of opportunities.

April 2003 - A. and I leave Mobile, Alabama and move back to Northern Virginia so that I can embark on the next phase of my congressional career. It's the beginning of a great - and final - four years working for the public.

January 2004 - Our first daughter is born, and our lives are changed forever.

January 2007 - As a result of the changeover in the majority in Congress, my position is downsized, and I find myself out of work. It's the beginning of an eight-month period of unemployment, and one of the most stressful points of my life. The only welcome break?

February 2007 - Our second daughter is born, joining her sister as two bright spots in a very difficult career period for me and A.

August 2007 - I am blessed to be hired to work for a fantastic trade association in Washington, and I make a whole new set of friends (and professional contacts) and learn a lot about the hospitality industry.

April 2008 - I'm hired away by a large conglomerate to serve as their media and government relations director in Washington. Another big professional boost, and a whole new world of opportunities is opened up for me and my family.

And now, here we are at the beginning of 2010. I can honestly say that I have absolutely no idea of what the future holds; truthfully, had you asked me ten years ago what I thought would have unfolded in my life, I wouldn't have identified a majority of what is listed above. But that's been part of the joy and challenge of the last ten years - the surprise of how things have unfolded.

Here's to 2010, and an entirely new year - and decade - of joys, challenges, and surprises.

When a Friend or Loved One is Dying, How Do You Manage Your Time Together?

2009-12-03T10:45:00.007-05:00

Saying goodbye is one of those parts of life that’s never easy, whether it’s after a night out with friends, a holiday weekend with family, or when a child leaves home for college. As difficult as those farewells are, there’s always the hope that you’ll see that person again soon and the separation will at worst be just a temporary break.

The enormity of the goodbye, though, takes on a whole new meaning when the farewell is forever, and the person with whom you’ve been talking or spending time is dying. It’s only then that are you shocked by the awareness that the time you’ve had together hasn’t been nearly enough and that all of the years you had to enjoy together have suddenly passed in the blink of an eye. All of the important things you always thought you’d have time to say suddenly and inexplicably seem to fall far short of what those fleeting last minutes together warrant.

Several years ago, I had my first experience with this when I paid my last visit to my maternal grandfather. Having been ill with cancer for a while and knowing that he was dying, he had come to terms with his prognosis and was at peace with it; I, however, I had not thought through it fully enough and tended to view it – in an unduly optimistic manner – as something from which he would recover. Just a few weeks before he passed away, I stopped to spend three days with him and my grandmother on a return trip to Alabama from a week of business in Washington. He managed to get out of bed and get dressed for dinner on my first night there, but that proved too much for him and he went back to bed for the remainder of my stay. During those three days, we had some great conversations and spent a lot of time talking (when I wasn’t out of the house running errands for them) – but never did the conversations turn to anything meaningful about what he was going through or move to a point where I was honest and forthright enough to tell him how I was feeling about his last days and how much I was going to miss him. I never got the guts to do it, and I regret it to this day – although I think he knew.

When it came time to leave, I was hit with the realization that this was it – I wouldn’t see him again. I leaned over the bed to hug him and tell him I loved him, and immediately broke down. For the first and only time that I could ever recall, he started crying too and said that he loved me. I’m sure those words had been spoken between us at some point during my life, but I couldn’t remember when; even now, this particular instance and my goodbye to him are the only time burned into my memory where I can remember either of us saying it to each other.

I still feel there wasn’t enough time with him, but there’s also a deep sense of guilt that I didn’t do enough in life to take advantage of the time I did have.

Not long after this visit, a good friend of mine gave me a copy of Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays with Morrie with the note that she thought it would be meaningful to me at that particular period in my life. I sat and read it in a single sitting one Saturday, with there being two results: one, I cried all over again with just as much intensity as I had when I said goodbye to my grandfather; and second, even more guilt welling up because despite the time Albom had missed with a college professor who he said had meant so much to him, he took time each week to go spend several hours with him – and despite the distance between my home in Alabama and my grandfather’s home in Virginia, I didn’t pick up the phone nearly enough.

This week, I had to confront it all over again. An older friend of mine who I have known for a number of years and who (along with her husband) had always been so kind to me and supportive during one or two difficult and challenging periods in my life paid a visit to my mother and, among other things, told her very matter-of-factly that she was dying. She, too, has been battling cancer for a while, and again I was hopeful she would recover, despite knowing how dire the circumstances were. Now, getting that email from my mother that this wonderful English lady was dying put me right back in my grandfather’s bedroom those several years ago.

I had written P. a note when I first found out she was ill without any expectation that I would get a response; after all, when you’re going through intense treatment to rid yourself of cancer, the energy to do something as simple as write a thank you note or send an email just isn’t there. My mother mentioned, however, that P. in the course of their conversation told me how surprised and delighted she was to get that note from me – undoubtedly surprised because she and I have had a chance to talk since a Christmas Eve service a few years ago, and delighted because I was not someone she was expecting to hear from.

And here, suddenly, was another opportunity to manage the time I had with someone who was important to me at a key point in my life. Within a few hours of hearing from my mother, I called P. – and we had a wonderful 30-minute conversation. Again, though, there was no talk of her situation (other than one mention of her treatment and her quick and almost subtle use of the phrase “in the short time I’ve got left” at one point during our chat), but this time it wasn’t really out of a fear on my part of bringing it up. No, it was – as my mother had warned me she would do – because P. left me feeling much better when I got off the call than I felt when I first called (and was afraid that I would fall apart on the phone). We talked about my wife and children, my job, and her children and grandchildren; we talked about the overall situation at a church our families had attended together; and we discussed our plans for Christmas. (If all goes well and she’s feeling up to it, we’ll actually have an opportunity to visit for a bit, which would be absolutely wonderful.)

There were no tears, no sadness, and no awkward silences as we danced near that line of discussing what was going on with her health. Instead, there was lots and lots of laughter, and in listening to P. I detected the same quiet acceptance and peace about what lies ahead on her path that I sensed in my grandfather.

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross has famously discussed the five stages a person goes through when faced with their own impending death. With my grandfather and with P., I found two people who had already progressed to the fifth stage of acceptance and who actually did more to calm me (whether they realized they were doing so or not) than I expected. For those left behind, though (and I certainly don’t think I’m stating anything either profound or original here), watching someone you love die isn’t something we can accept peacefully – we’re the ones who are often stuck in the phase of (in the words of Dylan Thomas) raging against the dying of the day, the dying of our loved one.

But rather than rage against this impending loss, or withdraw into a fearful place where you can’t find acceptance about the situation nor the courage to be open about your feelings, shouldn’t we be managing our time with these friends and loved ones more effectively?

There are all sorts of clichés out there - seize the day, live every moment to the fullest, take time to smell the roses – that relate to having a lot of time on your hands to fill. How do you fill that time, though, when the hours and minutes are perilously short?

What a Visitor at Church Gave to Me

2009-11-22T15:26:00.003-05:00

Today, we had a visitor at church.

In and of itself, having a visitor isn't an unusual thing - we have visitors on many Sundays. The congregation tries to greet as many of them as they can, chats with them during the exchanging of the peace, and makes sure that they are included at the altar when it comes time to share in communion. What was unusual today, however, was what I got from this visitor.

It was obvious that he came from a difficult background, and after talking to him for a few minutes and learning a bit about him I couldn't help but think that much of what he owned was in the backpack that he brought in to church with him. He told me about having lived with someone who had more mental problems than he does, how it got to the point where he couldn't deal with it and had to leave, and how he often felt like he had gotten separated enough from church that he just couldn't go on. He didn't say where he was living or how he was getting by - although the answers to both of those questions seemed obvious just below the surface in what he wasn't saying - but he did tell me that he was hoping he would get something out of the service today. I responded by telling him that ours was a great church and that we were very glad to have him there with us.

Then there was a long pause, after which he looked at me and asked, "What do you find the hardest thing about being a Christian?"

I was floored. Here was a question that came from beyond left field, and it hit me such that I didn't have an immediate answer. Had it been anyone else, I might have tried to laugh it off or give a humorous answer just to get through the moment. But I could tell in looking at him that he wanted - he needed - an answer fror me. So I gave him the best one I could.

"The hardest thing for me in being a Christian is that I keep forgetting I don't have to do it all myself. I'm a diagnosed depressive, and it was hard for me to even get help for that because I'm 'the fixer': I'm the one who always tries to fix the problems my kids are having, or my wife is having, or my friends are having. I just can't seem to fix what's happening to me. Being in this church, though, I'm constantly reminded that I don't have to do it all myself, that there are others around to help. Most of all, being with these people is a reminder that that God is there to do things for us when we can't do them for ourselves, and puts others in our lives to help us. Even with that reminder, though, remembering that is the hardest thing for me."

I don't know whether that is what he expected to hear, wanted to hear, or needed to hear, but it was the answer I felt I should give him. Aside from greeting him again during the exchanging of the peace I didn't have a chance to speak to him - and I don't know whether he found what he was looking for when he visited us today. But regardless of what he may have gotten, he certainly gave quite a bit.

Dwight Eisenhower: Advocate for the Poor

2009-11-11T21:36:00.004-05:00

Veterans Day is always a time where I surf the 'net for quotes from famous military figures and watch YouTube video of generals like Patton and MacArthur and Bradley. We shouldn't, of course, limit our remembrance of these men - and of every man and woman who has ever served in the military - to just this one day and Memorial Day, but the history and significance of November 11 is conducive to this sort of research.

As you've probably noted in my previous few entries, my attention has turned in a significant way towards much more social issues: homelessness, poverty, elections and the public welfare, etc. In looking through some military quotes this evening, I was stunned to find this quote from Dwight Eisenhower that ties those entries in to this Veterans Day: "Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired, signifies in the final sense a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed."

Eisenhower, the commander of Operation Overlord, Supreme Commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force in Europe, and later President, was one I never expected to discuss something as significant as military spending essentially being "a theft" from those who are living without. I, like many, tend to keep him in the military box - talking to the troops the day before the invasion of Normandy, developing the grand strategy for victory in Europe, setting the parameters for the army's involvement in the reconstruction of western Europe. Never did I imagine (partly attributable to a lack of having read enough about him) that he would boil our overwhelming defense spending down to the lowest - but certainly not least sigificant - common denominator.

My respect for him has certainly grown, and while his quote could be taken by some political types as justification for their current calls for a reduction in military spending (some of which has actually been carried out), I think it clearly - and surprisingly - demonstrates a much deeper and plainspoken concern for the poor in this country than I ever expected.

Homelessness - the Challenge. Now, What are You Prepared to Do?

2009-11-07T10:14:00.000-05:00

Would Jesus Vote?

2009-11-03T12:35:00.011-05:00

Today, as most everyone should know by now, is election day (and if you're reading this in Virginia, New Jersey, or New York's 23rd congressional district and have forgotten to go to the polls, you may still have time). At various points during the course of the day, I was engaged in (read as "started") several debates on whether today's results - no matter how they turned out - would be a referendum on the first ten months of the Obama Administration. The comments were lively, to say the least, and there was a lot of passion from all those who weighed in with their remarks.

At this point, you're probably thinking to yourself that I had limited this blog to discussions of faith and my family, and that I was leaving the political discourse on one of two other sites on which I comment (One Man's Politics and Two Rhodes Diverged). What will surprise you, though, is that faith is involved very much in this discussion.

How? Quite simply, I began to wonder whether Jesus - if he were here today - would vote.

The Gospels of Matthew (22:21), Mark (12:17) and Luke (20:25) all contain the story of Jesus speaking to a crowd and asking for a denarii, at which point he got them to name which person's likeness was shown on the coin. He then responded, "Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's." As Caesar was (in a very loose sense of the term) a politician supported by the Roman Senate, would the entire realm of politics and elections fall under that same division of "belongings"?

So if Jesus were here today, or if there were such a thing as the election of a Roman governor in the early years A.D., would he have voted, or would he have simply continued his ministry of social justice and the crusade to develop a sense of concern for the least of us by others in the population, and to heal and bring people to a knowledge of God and the imminence of His kingdom here on earth? I'll interject at this point that I first broached this question to a friend and priest to see what his initial thoughts were; his response was, "He couldn't vote... technically he couldn't register because he was from a Kingdom 'not of this world.'"

After giving me time to absorb the humor of that comment, he went on: "You could ask what the political process would look like in the Kingdom of God. I mean, if we're living with one foot in this world and another foot in the next (prevalent theological idea), one might ponder what God would want us to drag over from his Kingdom into ours. Our political system is flawed - and why? I think that it's because there's too much emphasis placed on "mine!" - and not enough emphasis placed on how we can band together and help 'respect the dignity of every human being.'"

So what would God want us to drag over from his kingdom into the one we have been told to prepare for here on earth (leaving aside, of course, the entire debate about whether Jesus himself was the personfication of that kingdom realized here)? One of the most serious attempts to show the role that religion can take in making informed political choices was undertaken by the group Sojourners in the lead-up to the 2004 election. You may recall that they issued a document with the headline "God is not a Republican. Or a Democrat." This paper, which was widely distributed around the country, laid out some key factors when considering which candidate to support on election day - and they are certainly relevant well beyond the Bush-Kerry election. In reading through this again, in Jim Wallis' God's Politics, I heard a 21st century version of the Beatitudes from the Sermon on the Mount. Here are the portions of the document that I think are particularly relevant today, with my own insertion of parts of Jesus' sermon:

We believe all candidates should be examined by measuring their policies against the complete range of Christian ethics and values.

We will measure the candidates by whether they enhance human life, human dignity, and human rights; whether they strengthen family life and protect children; whether they promote racial reconciliation and support gender equality; whether they serve peace and social justice; and whether they advance the common good rather than only individual, national, and special interests.

We are not single-issue voters.

We believe that poverty - caring for the poor and vulnerable - is a religious issue. Do the candidates' budget and tax policies reward the rich or show compassion for poor families? Do their foreign policies include fair trade and debt cancellation for the poorest countries? (Matthew 25:35-40, Isaiah 10:1-2) - Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

We believe that the environment - caring for God's earth - is a religious issue. Do the candidates' policies protect the creation or serve corporate interests that damage it? (Genesis 2:15, Psalm 24:1)

We believe that war - and our call to be peacemakers - is a religious issue. Do the candidates' policies pursue "wars of choice" or respect international law and cooperation in responding to real global threats? (Matthew 5:9) - Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the sons of God.

We believe that truth-telling is a religious issue. Do the candidates tell the truth in justifying war and in other foreign and domestic policies? (John 8:32)

We believe that human rights - respecting the image of God in every person - is a religious issue. How do the candidates propose to change the attitudes and policies that led to the abuse and torture of Iraqi prisoners? (Genesis 1:27)

We believe that our response to terrorism is a religious issue. Do the candidates adopt the dangerous language of righteous empire in the war on terrorism and confuse the roles of God, church, and nation? Do the candidates see evil only in our enemies but never in our own policies? (Matthew 6:33, Proverbs 8:12-13 )

We believe that a consistent ethic of human life is a religious issue. Do the candidates' positions on abortion, capital punishment, euthanasia, weapons of mass destruction, HIV/AIDS-and other pandemics-and genocide around the world obey the biblical injunction to choose life? (Deuteronomy 30:19) - Blessed are the merciful, for they will obtain mercy.

We also admonish both parties and candidates to avoid the exploitation of religion or our congregations for partisan political purposes.

Looking back on all of this, and considering each of these points, I again asked myself: Would Jesus vote, or would he simply continue his ministry of social justice and the crusade to develop a sense of concern for the least of us by others in the population, and to heal and bring people to a knowledge of God and the imminence of His kingdom here on earth?

My conclusion? Both.

For you see, if you vote based on your faith and your convictions, you are doing your part to put others in a position who can contribute to the ministry of social justice. People who are in a position to better address our concerns for the poor, the persecuted, the sick, and all who suffer. For refugees, prisoners, and all who are in danger. And yes, even for our enemies and those who wish us harm.

I think there is a reason that Form V of the Prayers of the People in the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer has us pray for our church leaders and those in positions of public trust before praying for our fellow man. I think that if we vote based on all of the areas listed by Sojourners, we will have leaders who will truly work for the public good.

And so Jesus would vote - not because he has suddenly developed a political tilt, but because he recognizes that two or three, or a hundred, or a thousand, working for their fellow man can accomplish more than a single person.

One can change the world, yes - but think of how much change many could bring about. As Isaiah said, "They will not hunger or thirst, Nor will the scorching heat or sun strike them down; For He [US!] who has compassion on them will lead them And will guide them to springs of water."

Looking Into the Eyes of Christ

2009-10-20T20:24:00.004-04:00

"You have heard some say, 'We don't need those people.' Well, Jesus is one of those people, and that is a great part of what it means for God to walk among us in human flesh." - Rt. Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori, Address at Trinity University, July 8, 2008

In this second day of considering how to live up to the standard set by Jesus and become more involved in reaching out to our fellow man, this second quote from the Presiding Bishop hit me like a thunderbolt.

"Jesus is one of those people." A carpenter from the poor town of Nazareth who wandered around with twelve men, living among the fringes of early-1st century society, shunning any sort of wealth, living wherever he was welcomed - wherever he could find a place to sleep - wherever he could find a meal. In reading this quote, though, I don't wonder if the bishop hasn't put the emphasis on the wrong word.

Read it her way again. Now, read it this way: "Jesus is one of those people." The first way, a statement of condescension; the second, a surprising statement of fact.

In the past, as I've walked by those who sit in doorways, beg on street corners, drag their possessions up and down the sidewalks of the city - not knowing where they came from and really not caring where they are headed - I tend to not look. I glance away not because of nerves or a need to shut out the problem, but rather because a certain amount of cynicism has built up over the years: the man who came up to me to borrow money because his truck had broken down and he couldn't get home from work, only to approach me the very next day with the very same story before suddenly realizing I had heard it all before; the one who asked for money for a meal only to walk instead into the package story for a bottle of liquor; the stories in the paper of young girls who live under bridges and who trade sex for drugs. Each of these people needs help, but I can't do it all alone and I was frustrated with the results when I did.

In today's economy, though, things have changed - and have changed dramatically. No longer do you look into the eyes of a man or woman huddled in a doorway and simply see the alcohol-riddled shell of a person, or a runaway, or a person looking for their next fix. Instead, you now look into the eyes of an engineer who has been laid off, burned through his savings, and lost his home. You look into the eyes of a young mother with three children who doesn't know how she will find their next meal. You look into the eyes of an older professional who lost everything as a result of shady hedge funds and crooked brokers and who is too proud to ask for help.

The eyes of the people you see on the street now are far different and tell far more stories than simply the tales of drug addiction or drunkenness. The group of people crying out for help through their stares and sad glances is far broader than we in this country should ever have allowed.

Their faces are the face of the suffering Christ, the rejected and scorned Christ, the crucified Christ. The Christ who on Friday had no hope. It is up to us to help these people with the transition to the Sunday miracle. Can any of us do it alone? Of course not - but the bishop's words are a stark reminder that we need to try, for every face you see is a creation of God and is in the image of God. Peter denied Jesus three times and was still forgiven; how many more times must we deny those in need?

No longer is it enough for me to tithe and contribute to charities and go merrily on my way. I need to get involved, and show my daughters the true value of helping their neighbor and the true worth in every man, woman and child.

We have Millenium Development Goals - not Millenium Development Hopes. It's up to each of us to reach those goals and - again - live into the full stature of Christ.

A Crisis of Faith

2009-10-19T22:17:00.023-04:00

Now that the title has grabbed your attention, I'll clarify and say that the crisis of faith - my faith - isn't with the having of faith. No, the crisis is of living out my faith in the world.

As someone who has been actively involved in the life of the last three churches I've attended - as a vestry member, a former youth leader, and a person keenly interested in organizing exciting and thought-provoking events and speakers - I'm always one of the ones encouraging others in the congregation to live outside the four walls of the church and to engage in the larger community. I once read that the people in the church aren't the ones who need help, but it's the ones outside the church who are in need; as such, I think it's important that congregations get more involved in the life of the larger area they serve.

Suggesting that people become more involved and actually becoming more involved are two different things, however, and I have fallen far short of realizing the mission that I'm encouraging others to undertake. In doing this, I'm also falling short of what it means to be an Episcopalian and a Christian.

In an address to the Urban Caucus in February 2007, Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori talked at length about what we as Christians are tasked to do in the world. As she said, "That vision of a healed and restored world is what you and I are charged with being and doing in this world ... Jesus himself acts out those images in feeding the multitudes, healing the sick and urging the people around them to feed them and restore them to community ... The Millenium Development Goals are a contemporary illustration of the work that Jesus did himself - and of the work to which he continues to call his followers ... We would do well to recall that we cannot love God whom we do not see if we do not love our neighbors who we do see. The world is not reconciled as long as some live without - without food, good news, adequate housing, peace, clothing or justice ... The work of this church is to build a world of shalom ... adequate food, drink, housing, employment, health care, education, equality, and the peace that only comes when justice is present and available to all."

I talk a lot about what I see wrong in the world and what I think should be done to fix it. Jesus, however, didn't talk - he acted. If I don't start acting, I will never - as the Presiding Bishop wrote - live into the full stature of Christ. So why don't I act?

At this stage in my life, my mind (politics) and my heart (faith) are really coming into conflict with each other. As I wrote a few months back on this blog, my position on the death penalty changed when my belief that everyone should receive a New Testament forgiveness (heart) superceded - after much internal debate - my desire for harsh, Old Testament punishment (mind). Many of my friends and I have debated the current health care reform efforts in Congress, and I am torn between my belief that everyone should have health care coverage (heart) with the belief that the government shouldn't be the body responsible for running the program (mind). I am conflicted about the fact that something should be done to end world hunger, disease, and poverty (heart) versus the thought that we shouldn't leave it up to organizations like the United Nations (mind).

Does this make me a flawed Christian? Of course; there is no perfect Christian. Is it too late to change and become more actively involved? Of course not; it's never too late. But as I blogged quite a while back, there's a certain amount of cynicism that I must overcome - especially when it comes to confronting those on the street who approach me for help. It's easy to help those you don't see - the food banks and homeless shelters that solicit through the mail and receive assistance through my tithes at church. The difficulty comes in helping those right in front of you, and that's undoubtedly where I need help.

Again, I turned to the Presiding Bishop's words: "Give to everyone who begs from you, and lend expecting nothing in return ... none of what we have is really ours; it belongs to God and we are only stewards ... Don't give anything with strings attached, for those strings are a kind of shackle that binds the receiver and the giver. Give freely, and set the other free in turn."

All of this can actually be summed up as a series of two questions presented to us during the homily of a mid-day Eucharist I attended earlier today: “What is it that makes God concrete for you? What do you do to make God concrete for others?”

What makes God concrete for me is simple: my family, my friends, my health, and the activities in which I'm involved. But I have a long way to go if I'm going to make God concrete for others - and become a better, more effective Christian in the process.

Some Brief Thoughts on Prayer

2009-10-15T16:57:00.006-04:00

These comments from the book Jesus Wept, by the Episcopal priest and writer Barbara Crafton, jumped out at me as I read them earlier and have given me a great deal about which to think. I feel certain they will for you as well."

We must begin by questioning the importance of words in our prayer. We are wedded to them, afraid of getting them wrong, irrationally afraid that if we pray for the wrong thing something terrible may happen ... We pray as if it were all up to us, when in fact, almost none of it is. We pray as if we were giving God treatment plans to follow, as if nothing could possibly work out well if we weren't there to plan it. We imagine that we must 'know what to pray for' in advance, and that we cannot pray if we don't. That if we cannot 'name it and claim it,' our prayers will be to no avail ... Often we do not know what should happen in a given situation. And sometimes we know that the things we long for cannot be ... We cannot look at prayer with an open mind and not conclude that, whatever else it may be, it isn't like placing an order at a pizza parlor ... God is in and around all of human history, absent from none of it. God is not a figure outside of our experience and in need of information about it. We don't really need to pray about anything; we're not in charge of much of what happens in the world. We can content ourselves with prayer from within it all.

Hubble, the Universe, and Our Place In It All

2009-10-02T10:45:00.006-04:00

My only thought for today is to take a moment and just consider how grand is the universe we are fortunate enough to inhabit. All it takes is a quick look at these photos from the Hubble Telescope, which show the work of a true Creator and Master Artist...

In Honor of Woodstock: Hanging with the Opening Act

2009-08-14T14:32:00.006-04:00

I missed Woodstock by about 8 months - and not as some would expect just because I didn't know it was going on and arrived late. No, it's because I wasn't born for several more months, and thus missed all of the fun. However, it ultimately wasn't a total loss, and in 1995 I had a chance to spend a few minutes with the festival's opening act, Richie Havens, just before he performed at the Rainbow Room in New York City. In short, he was a very nice guy.

This time, instead of being late for the festival, I'm going to actually be early for the anniversary and share this photograph.

The Henry Louis Gates Incident Shows There's Still Work to Do

2009-07-23T19:49:00.023-04:00

REVISED - July 27, 2009. As more information comes out on this, I find that I have been guilty of the very thing that so many others do: I jumped to judgment on the circumstances of this incident. While I admit that this post was simply my musings on what had happened, I shouldn't have jumepd to certain conclusions below about the woman who called the police and the events surrounding this incident. So while I stated in the original posting that I expected more from the country, I should also expect more from myself.

ORIGINAL POST - Here we are, July 23, 2009, and I'm disappointed - for I expected more from our country.

Nine years into the 21st century, I was optimistic (perhaps naive is a better word) that we had finally turned the page on race relations in this country. With the election of President Obama in November of last year, I thought that perhaps the dream of such leaders as Martin Luther King and Frederick Douglass and W.E.B. DuBois was finally realized. If we could have a black president, perhaps things were in fact getting better, and the differences of our past were at long last being put aside.

And then we heard that distinguished Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates was arrested under very questionable circumstances, and my optimism was quickly tempered with a big dose of reality. Like millions of Americans, I wasn't there and can only rely on what I hear and read in the news, but it seems to me that misperception played a role in this incident from beginning to end. Someone saw a black man trying to get into a house, and they assumed he was a burglar. The police arrived and ultimately arrested someone who they astonishingly seemed to perceive as another angry black man - not a professor from Harvard, the rightful tenant of the home, and a resident of that particular Cambridge neighborhood.

Truthfully, I can't say that I would have reacted any differently than Professor Gates were I in his situation; if a policeman is standing in my house holding two different forms of identification proving that I live there - and yet I still am not believed - then I'm pretty sure I'd be angry as well. The difference is, sadly, that I don't think I as a white man would be arrested for yelling ("disorderly conduct," as the Cambridge police report reads). Granted, there should be a certain amount of discretion displayed by anyone dealing with a person who wears a gun on their hip, but this incident seems to strike me as absurd.

I'm impressed by what I've heard about how Professor Gates is responding to this: he will use the incident as the impetus to explore the continuing difficulties for blacks in this country. To his credit, he will be putting this issue squarely back in the public spotlight so that we can continue to confront a national relationship that should be all rights be in much better shape than it is at this late date.

I've always admired the work Gates has done during his career, and the series of specials he has put together for PBS exploring the ancestry of famous men and women of black and Asian ancestry (he had just returned from China exploring the past of Yo Yo Ma when this occurred) has been first-rate. Despite the tragedy of what took place on a quiet Massachusetts street, I think he will turn this into another teaching tool - and it is a lesson to which we would all be well-served to pay attention, to consider, and to discuss in a very serious manner.

Walter Cronkite: And That's the Way He Was

2009-07-18T08:53:00.013-04:00

Broadcast news is much different now than it was when I was a child. Rather than having parents flip to one of the three big networks to watch their evening coverage, we now have access to dozens of 24-hour cable channels filled to the brim with crawlers, split screens, cutaways, and just about every other gimmick and gizmo imaginable. News broadcasts are no longer something that you plan as part of your day - you're surrounded by them, and they're accessible no matter what time of day or night you grab the remote and flip on the set.

News broadcasters are no longer the same, either. Rather than the hardened journalists of decades ago, many of those on television today are entertainers - folks picked because of their humor or their good looks. Yes, many of them cut their teeth working at any of the thousands of local affiliates around the country, but the end result is something much different than I think Edward R. Murrow and his generation would have expected.

With last night's passing of Walter Cronkite, we've lost another link to the era when news was something serious and when journalists were literally tested on the battlefield. Cronkite came up through the Depression and was on the front lines with the troops in North Africa and in Vietnam and was someone who seemed to feel a genuine, emotional investment in the news he was reporting. In watching the old clips, he fought hard to control the overwhelming grief the nation was feeling following the assassination of President Kennedy, and watching his reaction to the Apollo 11 landing on the moon was like watching a kid on Christmas morning.

I don't remember much first-hand of Cronkite's reporting when I was young, but I remember the voice, and I remember the way that everything seemed to come to a stop while people listened - my father sitting in his chair in front of the television, and my grandparents making sure that dinner was finished and everything was cleaned up in time to catch the news. It just doesn't seem that way anymore with the news, and for that I think the passing of Cronkite is a loss for everyone.

I hope that broadcast journalists everywhere will take time over the next few days to remember his impact on their profession and to express a bit of gratitude for his hard work and efforts to build trustworthiness with the viewers. He was a pioneer, and they would do well to remember all he did and all he meant to the viewers.

News has changed, yes, but everyone should recall Walter Cronkite and his style of news and remember how that's the way it was.

By Looking Away, Are We Robbing Someone of Their Legacy?

2009-07-06T14:40:00.004-04:00

By not looking someone in the eye as you walk by them, or by turning away from someone in an uncomfortable situation, what is your action doing to that person?

Could you, in fact, be robbing them of their humanness – of their identity and their place in the world?

I’ve been wondering about that question ever since A. and I toured the Holocaust Museum earlier today (her first visit, my second), and it came about as the result of something I noticed while walking through the exhibition halls. In the areas where the displays consisted of photos of large groups of people, old video footage, artifacts, and mementoes of that period in history, everyone seemed to be giving their undivided attention to what they were seeing. By and large, the lines moved slowly through the areas where the victims were not taken as individuals, but as part of the larger group of those so tragically eliminated by Hitler’s regime.

In other rooms of the museum, though – rooms filled with individual photos of families and folks enjoying happier times in life – it seemed visitors were jetting through as quickly as possible. I didn’t see anyone take the time as I did to look at the pictures of brothers and sisters dressed in their finery for Shabbat services or the families enjoying a vacation in the mountains. No one was pausing to consider the photos of the old Zayde – the grandfather – sitting on the front porch of his home, or of the children gathering for an afternoon of fun in the town square, or of the little girl sitting on her bed staring innocently into the lens of the camera. In short, no one was stopping to take a glimpse into the lives that were interrupted and in many instances cut short – the lives of the boys and girls who never had the chance to experience life beyond their childhood, and the lives of the elderly who had stolen from them the opportunity to pass on their wisdom, their knowledge, and their heritage to younger generations.

Is it enough for the visitors who rushed through these areas to consider the Holocaust – indeed, all such horrific periods in human history – in broad, general terms, rather than really delving into the underlying collection of stories making up the history of the Jewish people? Do they not want to look deeper, preferring to keep things in a general, “read about it in my history book” sort of summary?

Or do they move by because they are afraid to look more carefully into the eyes and the faces of those who have suffered and who continue to suffer to this day, afraid to move beyond what they’ve been told into a much more emotional realm? If you look into the faces of those men and women, the young and old, in those photographs, you are stepping through a doorway into their lives, their loves, and their familial joys. In essence, you are putting a human face on a situation that many today only know through books and movies. But to look away, to not see what was taken from the world, are the voices of the past being robbed of a bit of their legacy – of their humanness?

Are they afraid to look because they know that once they see the problem – once they see the difficulties of the past and the challenges of today – they will be compelled to act, and action makes them uncomfortable?

I saw one other thing at the museum that really made me think even more about these questions. When first entering the exhibit, everyone has the opportunity to take an identification card – a little booklet that tells the story of a single victim or survivor of the Holocaust, from their childhood to the end of their lives. Mine is sitting on my desk in front of me (the story of Welek Luksenburg of Dabrowa Gornicza, Poland) as I write this, but I saw several folks open them, give them a cursory glance, and then throw them in the closest trash can as they headed through the exit.

Do they not care, or do they simply not want to know?

There Won't Be a Disco Comeback Unless...

2009-06-30T08:56:00.005-04:00

Think for a moment if you will about studio musicians - those men and women who toil in near obscurity, making their careers and eking out a living providing support to top-flight recording artists and bands. On rare occasions, those studio musicians - Jimmy Page, former session guitarist, and Boston, former session band, are perfect examples - are able to move out on their own and develop impressive careers, but for the most part the only reputation they develop is on the quality of their work out of the spotlight.

On rare occasions, you may actually hear about some of these folks: "Mr. X is a successful guitarist whose work can be found on albums by such bands as the Rolling Stones, Fleetwood Mac, and Pink Floyd;" "Mr. Y played bass on albums for many of the most successful pop groups of the last thirty years." You probably even heard recently a brief mention of Bud Shank, a flutist who played the flute solo in the Mamas and the Papas' "California Dreamin'." Everyone at some point gets the credit they are due ...

... except for the disco string players. Not once have I heard anyone give a shout out to the gentleman who was first violin on Gloria Gaynor's remake of "Never Can Say Goodbye," or the lady who doubled on cello and second viola in the orchestra used in "A Fifth of Beethoven." At least Barry White, with "Love's Theme," had the decency to give blanket credit to the Love's Unlimited Orchestra. For all those children who take violin or cello lessons, hoping to one day be the next Anne Sophie Mutter or Yo Yo Ma, how can we in good conscience look at them and say, "Well, you've got a great dream; pursue it! But if you don't make it to the concert stage, there's always the recording studio" if there's no credit to be had?

Until we give proper respect to the folks who really made disco great - the backup string orchestras - then the comeback we've been hearing about for so long just won't happen...

Can You Spare Five Minutes to Change Someone's Life?

2009-06-28T18:30:00.007-04:00

During his weekly sermon at church this morning, our priest-in-charge made the point that all of the news this week about Michael Jackson and the other celebrities who have passed away has diverted attention - both of the news networks and of each of us - away from more important problems like the ongoing bloodshed in Iran. Yes, news is a fickle thing and changes rapidly, but the events of the past few days have given us a chance to turn away from the problems facing our neighbors overseas (and, more directly, the problems of our immediate neighbors here at home). Why? Quite simply, looking away allows us to prevent being put into the uncomfortable sport of trying to come up with solutions and ways to help these folks find a way out of the problems they are facing.

It was a powerful point. Rather than working to help our fellow man, we look for any and every reason to step aside or find a way around the difficult situations we find in front of us every day. I talked a bit about my feelings in this regard back in December 2007 (you can read that post here), and of course in the ensuing 18 months the problems of those I see here in the Washington area have not gotten any better - in many regards, they're even worse.

Everyone in our congregation has been challenged during the coming week to take just five minutes to listen to someone who may be having some sort of problem, to learn about them and to find out what their needs may be. We will then be writing their names on index cards and putting them into the collection plate next week, where they will be presented at the altar and we as a single body can begin praying about ways to help these folks find a way out of their problems.

Can you do that? Can you spare five minutes for one of your neighbors, five minutes that could make a huge difference in - and potentially change - their life?

Michael Jackson and the Dance That Never Was

2009-06-27T15:17:00.006-04:00

I suppose since everyone else is sharing their favorite Michael Jackson-themed story or their memories of the gloved one, I should do the same. However, my recollection doesn't involve the man but rather one of his songs.

I was in ninth grade, at one of the Friday night post-football game dances that the different clubs in my high school sponsored on a rotating basis. On this particular evening, the French Club was in charge of the event - refreshments, the deejay, tickets, the whole bit. At this point, I was still a horribly awkward teenage boy, not sure yet of who I was or what I was supposed to be doing in life, and as such it seemed really odd that I would be hanging around a big school dance. By and large, I was still painfully shy around most folks and really didn't like crowds and spent much of this particular evening standing on the gallery that circled the top of the gym - a place where folks would gather to watch what was going on on the floor below and plot their next move.

And then it happened. The school's most beautiful girl, who was a senior during this, my freshman year, walked out to the edge of the gym floor and stood there, talking to her friends. All I could do was stare; this was the girl who all the guys thought was unapproachable, someone who the year before I had asked to sign my yearbook only after summoning every bit of courage I could ever hope to find. I continued to stand and watch her in the glow of the lights illuminating the dance, and at that moment the song started: Michael Jackson's "Human Nature." The French teacher and sponsor of the club saw me standing there and asked me if I wanted to dance with the girl I was watching; I replied that I did - and she said, "So go ask her."

I was shocked! There was no way that I could ever hope to get this particular girl, the senior admired by all the guys, to dance with me, and I said as much in response. She said something to the effect that, "Well, if you notice, no one else has asked her to dance yet, so you've still got a chance to be the first." I pondered it for a moment, turned ...

... and walked to a spot further down the rail to continue watching. Before long, the song ended, the dance ended, and this senior that I had worshipped from afar was headed out the door - and a few months later, headed out of the school forever. However, to this day, I can still plainly hear Michael's voice - "If they say why, why? Tell them that it's human nature ... See that girl, she knows I'm watching..." - in that darkened, cavernous gymansium, lyrics bouncing of the walls and echoing around the vast room.

And I still see the shy, gawky teenager that I once was, standing high above the gym floor watching silently as he let the opportunity to dance with his ninth grade crush - that one magic moment - slip through his fingers.

A Prayer for the Children

2009-06-24T22:35:00.006-04:00

Today, I'm thinking about the children.

No, not my children (though they're never far from my mind) or the children of my neighbors or friends. Today, I'm thinking about the children of Iran.

Over the past several days, the news coming out of the country has gone from a feeling of hope for a free election to the crushing pain of a fraudulent outcome. And things continue to get worse; although the reports cannot be verified, people inside Iran have been telling of men and women thrown off of bridges, attacked by secret police carrying axes, and dragged out of homes and hospitals to be taken to secret locations - in many instances, never to be seen again. I can't see their faces in the grainy images on television, and I can't picture what the people look like who are Twittering and Facebooking and using every tool imaginable to get the word out.

But for some reason, I can see children - and it hurts. Children who are seeing their loved ones, people who only wanted a better life for their families and a brighter future for their country, dragged out of homes before their very eyes. Children who are exposed to the brutality of a regime that will do anything (or almost anything, though the fear that worse actions are still just around the corner) to suppress a revolution and seeing people attacked and beaten and shot. Children who probably never had to worry about what the next day would bring and who now have to fear what will happen in the next few minutes or hours.

As I write this, my daughters are safe in their beds, and all is quiet in my neighborhood. On the other side of the world, though, there is no safety and no quiet, and children there are only experiencing fear and uncertainty. I - we - can't comfort them or hug them or tell them that things will be alright the way that we would our own children during a summer storm or after they've had a bad dream. But we can pray, and pray we should - for the end of the violence, yes, but most especially that these young boys and girls can again know peace rather than fear and quiet rather than chaos.

Father's Day Images

2009-06-21T19:45:00.004-04:00

There are so many great blog posts and stories that have been published discussing the importance of Father's Day and sharing memories of this day - past and present - that I fear I can't come up with anything original that hasn't already been said. However, in thinking about the day thus far, there are little scenes and statements from my girls that taken collectively have amounted to a wonderful little day.

Being awakened by MB at about 8:00 this morning with a very loud whisper in my ear, "Daddy! It's time for Happy Father's Day!"
The excitement my oldest had as I opened her gift - not the gift that she had made in Sunday school class last week or the one that she had picked out with her sister and mother, but the pillowcase full of little plastic dinosaurs that she wanted me to see.
E. running up to me every ten minutes with a new book that she had pulled out of somewhere in her room, excitedly saying, "Tory-time! Tory-time!"
MB telling me as we went to pick up dinner tonight that she has decided that she doesn't want babies when she gets married. When I asked why, she said, "Because they hit you in the nose!" I reminded her that she and her sister had both done that, and she replied, "I know. I don't want them to do it to me!" (I didn't even ask her why she's considering marriage at age 5...)
MB deciding that E. had done enough to decorate her card to me, and taking it upon herself to add her own bit of flair.
E. determined to finish her dinner at the same time as her sister, and shoving nearly 1/4 of her quesadilla into her mouth while looking at me and giving a big, toothy grin.

I hope everyone's Father's Day has been full of such a collection of wonderful little moments as these - and that together they made for a great day for all of you.

Following the Trail of Carbon Footprints

2009-06-12T15:57:00.005-04:00

(This was also posted on my "One Man's Politics" blog, but I felt like sharing it here as well.)

Carbon footprint.

Carbon offsets.

Green houses.

Green jobs.

Energy efficiency.

Global health.

If you haven’t had at least one of these phrases thrown at you – by television commentators, op-ed and editorial writers, or by someone with whom you’ve been having a conversation – during the past week, then you are one of the fortunate ones who must be isolated from the rest of civilization. (Side bar: If you are, please let me know how to get there so that my family and I can escape the insanity that resides inside the Beltway.) The cap-and-trade side of things has certainly been a big issue for my place of employment, and I can tell you that after having read all 900-plus pages of the Waxman-Markey bill (H.R. 2454 for all of you policy wonks out there), there’s some scary stuff on the horizon – and I hope folks take the time to educate themselves before it’s too late.

I finally caved and took some time today to use one of the multiple on-line tools to determine the level of environmental destruction that my family is thrusting upon the earth (or at least our little portion of Northern Virginia). The first one (http://www.carbonfootprint.com/) calculated, after I answered a series of questions on energy usage and recycling and shopping habits, that we are responsible for 6.44 tons of CO2 emissions per year. Based on the cool little “footprint” graph on the results page, that’s less than half of the national average and more than twice the world target.

Moving on, I tried a second calculator developed by the Nature Conservancy (http://www.nature.org/) and after answering very similar questions was told that we are responsible for 55 tons of emissions per year.

Say what? Well, which is it? My habits didn’t change between the first and second calculator (unless my wife burned down the George Washington National Forest during those four minutes), and yet the Conservancy holds us accountable for 49 more tons of emissions each year. This itself presents the first problem: how, if the government is going to try and restrict (sorry; “cap” – there you go, Chairman Waxman), will they calculate who is responsible for what? I can honestly say I don’t have much confidence at all in the scientific data that will be used o the methodology for gathering this information – particularly if an organization like the Nature Conservancy is going to blame me for nearly 400 percent more emissions than your average group.

Next, I was given the option of offsetting the natural disaster that my wife and kids and I have unleashed on an unsuspecting world. Yes, long before industry will be required to do so through auction, I can purchase my very own offset credits. Here are samples of what I can spend (just for my 6.44 tons; I didn’t bother looking for the 55 tons):

Certified Emission Reduction - fully verified by Kyoto/United Nations standards and used to support Clean Development Mechanism projects. Cost: $174.39

Clean Energy Portfolio – supports clean energy generation projects around the world. Cost: $90.20

Americas Portfolio – supports reforestation projects in Guatemala, Nicaragua, El Salvador, Honduras and Mexico. Cost: $95.67

Reforestation in Kenya – supports “the planting of broad leaved trees in the Great Rift Valley” (sounds glamorous). Cost: $89.15 (for seven trees)

UK Tree Planting – does just what it says, although you get to pick the region of the UK that you’d like to reforest. Cost: $145.61 (for seven trees)

This brings up question two: who’s administering this money, and what guarantee is it that in our effort to mitigate our personal environmental destruction this money will actually even go to whom and what they claim it will? Here’s an interesting quote from Steve Milloy in Green Hell:

The CO2 offset marketplace is pretty shady. According to an August 2008 report by the General Accounting Office, carbon offsets have no uniform quality assurance mechanisms or standards of verification and monitoring. “Participants in the offset market face challenges ensuring credibility of offsets,” the GAO concluded. In other words, buyers have little idea whether the offsets they buy actually reduce CO2 emissions.

Milloy continues, “Former Clinton administration official Joseph Romm bluntly summed up the situation, writing that ‘the vast majority of offsets are, at some level, just rip-offsets.’”

So to review: we need to adjust our carbon footprint, but no one can accurately calculate our footprint; we need to buy personal offsets to mitigate our footprint, but no one can assure us the money is going to where it is intended – or how much of it is actually going anywhere other than the pockets of those administering the program.

Are the sorts of changes we would need to make even feasible? Milloy says, “Based on my carbon footprint profile, to meet this goal I’d have to driving, flying, using electricity, and heating and cooling my home.” All cases may not be as extreme, but how much will you have to scale back your life and habits to compensate?

Moreover, are you willing to do it?

Shabbat Shalom! A First Experience with Judaism

2009-06-06T09:26:00.014-04:00

Several years ago, A. and I completed a four-year program administered by the University of the South at Sewanee (Tennessee) entitled Education for Ministry (EFM). This program - which has been in existence for a number of years, since I can recall my father taking the course when I was a child - is designed to give members of the Episcopal Church a stronger knowledge of church history and theology, and to give them the tools to become more effective lay leaders within their congregations.

As important as it is to know about the development of one's own denomination and the history of their faith traditions, I think it's equally important to learn as much as you can about the development of other faiths - of Judaism and Islam and Buddhism, among many others. Just as learning what the other side of the political spectrum believes in order to make yourself better informed on the issues, I think that you make yourself a stronger and more effective Christian and citizen when you take the time to learn and experience what others believe. So for my own personal enrichment and for the benefit of my family, that's what I've decided to do.

Last night, A. and I attended our very first service with a Jewish congregation (MB was originally going to go with us, but at the last minute decided that it was more important for her to spend time with her grandparents than with us), and it was a magnificent event. I had emailed the rabbi of Temple Rodef Shalom here in Northern Virginia to inquire whether they would allow us to visit (I'm the sort of person who believes that you don't just show up somewhere without first asking if it's acceptable, particularly when visiting a different faith tradition; I like to be respectful of their practices and not just be the one "crashing the party"). Not only did we receive a positive response, but within a very few minutes of her return note I had gotten an email from a member of the congregation who graciously offered to meet us, give us a tour, and sit with and guide us through the service.

Our visit was in some ways a bookend of having watched Elie Wiesel's remarks at Buchenwald, moving from the solemnity of his visit to the joy of the family Shabbat service (which our host referred to as the "Shabbat Rocks" service, because of the upbeat music and band there, and the dancing which the kids and some adults did during the service). Before the service, we were given the privilege of looking at one of the congregation's Torah scrolls which is actually going to be used for the bar- and bat-mitzvah ceremony this weekend for some of the young people in the congregation. The scroll had been copied by hand from a previous scroll (something which I had read once is a way of passing the Torah from one generation to the next), and in fact there are certain instances when each member of the congregation is given the opportunity to contribute one letter to a new scroll as it is being copied. I can't really explain the emotion I felt as A. and I helped him remove the crowns and the covering from the scroll before he unrolled it; while I know the Bible is representative of my tradition as a Christian, I often make the mistake of viewing it in the context of its form as a book - with the Torah scroll, I felt as if what I was watching was in fact our host unrolling and opening the centuries of Jewish history before us.

Before sitting to chat for a few minutes, we were invited to go with him as he placed the Torah back into the ark of the covenant in the sanctuary, which is illuminated by a light which is never turned off - representative of the oil lamp in the original Temple in Jerusalem which was never extinguished. We then had an opportunity to talk for a bit before the service began - about some of what we would see in the service, a bit of the history of the congregation, and about the children who were about to be recognized and accepted as adults in their faith after their mitzvahs. He had mentioned that the recitation from the Torah was a very big event for these young men and women and that there are generally a lot of nerves - with them, hoping they do a good job, and for their parents, who view this as a tremendous source of pride for them.

As he was talking, I thought about my confirmation when I was 13 - a very different event, but really the only comparison that I could think of from my Episcopal background. I then began to wonder if these children felt any sort of pressure for what was about to happen in their lives. Let me explain - when I was confirmed, I knew it was a big deal, but I viewed really as a rite of passage where we were finally considered members of the congregation; nothing else really came to mind - no thought of the history of the church or anything along those lines. With bar- and bat-mitzvahs, however, these 13-year-old boys and girls are not only becoming adults, but they are inheriting the entire history of their people and will begin to shoulder the burden of that history, both the good and the tragedy. I asked if the kids understood the enormity of what they were about to take upon themselves, aside from being viewed as adults, and he replied simply, "Oh, yes."

The service was very good and alternated between joyous and solemn. Officially, it is know as the Kabbalat Shabbat, the service which is the time of welcoming the Sabbath. There was magnificent music, a great deal of participation from the congregation, and a point where every child in the room - and some of the adults - joined hands and danced their way among the aisles and past the ark (which A. and I thought MB would have absolutely loved had she been there). There was a pretty even mix between sung and spoken prayers, and thankfully - in addition to translations of each in English - there were spelled out pronunciations of the Hebrew so that we could try (as best we could) to sing and speak along with them.

Two of my favorites were one of the opening songs and the one sung at the end of the service, the words of which (in order) were:

Hallelu...Kok han'shama, t'haleil yah, halelu, haleluya! (Loosely translated, this means, "The breath of every living thing praises God," and comes from Psalm 150.)

Mi shebeirach imoteinu, m'kor hab'racha l'avoteinu. Bless those in need of healing with r'fua sh'leima, the renewal of body, the renewal of spirit and let us say: Amen.

One of the latter parts of the service was the very moving saying of the Kaddish in memory of all those who have died, whether it be in recent weeks or within the past year. The rabbi asks that everyone sit silently as the names of those individuals are read out loud, and as each name is read the family members of those men and women stand in silence. Others in the congregation are then given the opportunity to stand and offer the names of loved ones who have died. At the end, the entire congregation joins in a show of support for all of these family members by saying the prayer (the text of which I don't have in front of me, but an example of which can be heard here). I've often read of people saying the Kaddish for their loved ones, but it's very powerful to actually hear it being done.

The service ended and we were invited to join them at their reception before heading home. We didn't stay long, just enough time to thank the rabbi once again for allowing us to attend and to talk to our host a bit more (who was very kind and said we were welcome to visit at any time). I had hoped to have an opportunity to talk with one gentleman in particular, the Temple's founding rabbi and a survivor of Auschwitz, but it never worked out (I certainly hope to have a chance to do so in the future).

Much is made of the fact that the world's three great religions - Christianity, Judaism, and Islam - are all descended from Abraham. To truly understand the root of your faith, no matter which denomination or religion it may be, it would be well worth your time to try and make a visit similar to that A. and I made to Temple Rodef Shalom; you'll be moved, you'll be inspired, and you'll get a glimpse of what lies at the very heart of where we are today.

Elie Wiesel at Buchenwald

2009-06-05T13:21:00.008-04:00

Elie Wiesel - someone who regular readers of this blog will know I hold in very high esteem - accompanied President Obama and German Chancellor Merkel to Buchenwald today to pay tribute to the tens of thousands of men, women and children murdered there during the Second World War. While Merkel and Obama presented very good remarks, I think Wiesel more than any other person there was able to put it all in perspective in very powerful and emotional terms. I don't see how anyone could listen to this, particularly the portion about his father, and not be moved.

In recent years, Wiesel has become more and more concerned that the world has learned nothing from the lessons we should have learned from the atrocities of the past. As a father, I think it is my duty to make sure my children know and understand what humans have done so tragically wrong throughout history and help them to know that they can be a part of ensuring it never happens again. As Wiesel has said, "Mankind must remember that peace is not God's gift to his creatures; peace is our gift to each other."

May our children and grandchildren, here and around the world, all learn to pass on the gift of peace and never forget the consequences of what happens when peace, fellowship and understanding are abandoned.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Happy Birthday, Norma Jean

2009-06-01T21:13:00.001-04:00

So What Can "American Idol" Teach Our Kids About...Cheating??

2009-05-26T22:13:00.002-04:00

Honesty and fair play: two concepts that we constantly try and instill in our children. Try your hardest and be proud when you’ve given your all. If you don’t win the race, it’s alright as long as you did your best. If you can’t win honestly, it’s better to lose than cheat.

As parents, we hope that these are ideas that will sink in with our sons and daughters and help motivate them to do their best regardless of the circumstances – as long as it’s done in a respectful and honest manner.

So what does it mean when a cultural phenomenon like “American Idol” - a show that so many young people look to as an example of how hard work (and a bit of luck) pays off in the end – is suddenly in the news for cheating??

As the New York Times reported just a short time ago, AT&T may have rigged the system somewhat so that more votes were cast for the ultimate winner through a block voting system than were for the runner-up. In fact, according to the Times story, “AT&T…might have influenced the outcome of this year’s competition by providing phones for free text-messaging services and lessons in casting blocks of votes at parties organized by fans of Kris Allen, the Arkansas singer who was the winner of the show last week...There appear to have been no similar efforts to provide free texting services to supporters of Adam Lambert.”

Simon, Randy, Paula and the new judge (you can tell I watch this show a lot) didn’t smash someone’s dream of fame and fortune. It wasn’t even millions of fans voting for Kris over Adam who did it. No, it was a company – a sponsor – who decided (allegedly) to rig the system.

What does this teach our kids about fair play, hard work and honest effort? No matter what you do, someone else can change the rules on you at the last minute?

Special Little Moments with Your Kids

2009-05-24T19:50:00.000-04:00

There’s so much rush to life: getting up, ready, and out the door on time for work; making sure the kids are up and dressed and have their show-and-tell items ready for preschool; scheduling the biweekly lawn mowing; meetings; family visits. The list of responsibilities for parents is never-ending, and it seems like everything is a constant rush to complete one task and get going on the next one.

As such, it’s the quiet times that really make the rushed times worthwhile. Our oldest daughter going to great lengths to set up our living room for a show she’s about to perform, and making sure we have pennies to buy our tickets and seats with a good view. My youngest daughter coming down to get me to read a story to her and then falling asleep in my lap for two hours. Both of them shrugging off my concerns over their being afraid to enjoy their first-ever viewing of two of the “Jurassic Park” films – surprisingly, without the crying and screaming I expected (case in point with my oldest, after a pair of T-Rexes has divided one of the characters among themselves for a quick snack: “Daddy? Will the others now go try and find him? Did he hide in the jungle? Will they be able to put his head back on?”).

Life can be brutal, exhausting, and often demoralizing. The work never ends, you never seem to have enough time or enough money to do everything you want or need to do, and you juggle all of this with trying to be a good parent. But that’s where kids can be helpful and give each of us a gift with the little things they try to do – to entertain us, to get our attention, to make us feel loved.

Make sure you enjoy those small moments that will help keep you going.

Your Child is Dangerously Ill; Would You Support Their Decision to Refuse Treatment?

2009-05-20T13:22:00.002-04:00

For the past few days, network news has been riveted by the story of 13-year-old Daniel Hauser, the Minnesota boy suffering from Hodgkins lymphoma who has refused chemotherapy and whose parents are respecting his wishes. I’m not certain whether Daniel doesn’t want to proceed due to religious convictions or as a result of how the first round of chemotherapy made him feel. However, the pace has certainly picked up; in short (for those not familiar with the story), a judge intervened in the matter, Daniel and his mother have now disappeared, and an arrest warrant has been issued.

There are two issues that I see here which are troubling to me and which I can’t sort out in my mind: parents respecting the wishes of a child versus pushing for something which could save his life; and the right of the courts to intervene in decisions which should be made by a family. To begin, I can’t judge the maturity level of Daniel nor his capability for making such a decision about his own health; after all, he is only 13, and I can’t recall that I’ve met anyone at that age who is able to tackle such life-changing decisions. His parents are certainly doing what they feel they must in order to support their son. However, I look at my children and try and reconcile the anguish these parents must be feeling between honoring and respecting your child and doing whatever you need to do to save their life.

I don’t have a common frame of reference with those whose religious convictions lead them to turn down medical assistance and instead wait for direct intervention from God (although I do feel that the abilities with which our doctors and nurses have been blessed in order to save lives is direct intervention from God), and as such I’m in no position to judge anyone based solely on that. However, even if I did believe that, how in good conscious – how as a course of loving my children – could I look at either of my daughters during a time where their health is in danger and not want to sweep them in my arms and get them to the best care possible? Isn’t one of the roles of a parent to want the very best of everything for your children, including medical care? Even if one my kids was at a point where they were young enough to be under the age of majority and still decided they didn’t want to pursue medical care, I have a feeling I would have to resort to the “I know what’s best for you” argument and force them. Choosing between supporting your children and doing what you – not they – feel is best for their well-being is a decision I hope never have to face.

At the same time, where does the court system have the authority to intervene on a matter such as this? I know that there are a multitude of laws on the books regarding endangering the well-being of a child, and certainly the parents could be considered to be endangering Daniel by not forcing him to receive treatment. But Daniel made his decision for whatever reason he felt was appropriate, and if by some chance it is as a result of a strongly-held religious view wouldn’t the court’s intervening be a violation of a person’s First Amendment protections against infringing on their religious beliefs?

At its core, I see this situation as it stands today being just a terrible period of fear: a child who thinks he knows what he is doing (even though doctors have said his chances for survival improve to nearly 90 percent with treatment) but is afraid because of the decision he has made; parents who are fearful of the consequences of their supporting his position; a mother and child on the run who are afraid of being caught. And above all, there has to be an overwhelming fear of the potential for this mother and father to lose their son.

I don’t know what I would do in this situation. Do you?

There's More to Life Than What's Right in Front of You

2009-05-14T19:35:00.001-04:00

Today started off great – up early, ready early, out the door on time. Driving to work, all I could focus on was the list of projects awaiting me on my desk and in my email inbox. It’s Thursday, the weekend is almost here, and I was about to knock off some important work before riding off into the Friday evening sunset in just over a day.

To quote Ethel Merman, “Everything’s coming up roses!”

My car, however, had other ideas. It’s odd, but it seems that alternators seem to have this built-in ability to detect the most inopportune time to malfunction. Waving battery needles and red “Hey! Look down here at the dashboard! What do you think is wrong with me?” lights start dancing around in front of me, and before I knew it I was sitting on the side of the road, cell phone in hand, pacing a rut in the median while waiting for Triple AAA to tow me across the Potomac.

If Ethel was trying to tell me everything was coming up roses, Judas Priest was countering with, “You’ve got another thing comin’!”

So, instead of being at work at 7:30, rifling through the morning papers and my stack of news clippings, I was at my desk two hours late, cursing the car, the delay in tackling my work, and my dumb luck. Franz Schubert once said “A man endures misfortune without complaint;” obviously, Schubert never met me on a Thursday morning when my Type A schedule was getting shoved into Type E chaos.

And then I had a chat with a friend. The details of the chat aren’t important; it is sufficient to say that it is someone with a lot on their plate – actually, a lot on many different plates – and it put my car troubles (and griping) solidly into perspective. This friend gives a lot – to their family, their friends, their colleagues; I can certainly say that I’ve been given the gift of some valuable time, conversation, and insights over the past couple of years. On this day, at this particular time, I saw that I could try – in my own inimitable way – to give a little something back.

It certainly never seems, when trying to repay the kindness of friends, to measure up to what I’ve been given, but even in trying to give something back to this friend, I got something back: an awareness (not quite the burning bush, but not too shabby in its own right) that alternators and getting to work on time and clearing off a to-do list are secondary to the needs of others.

A famous Vulcan once said, “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.” Today, I got a great reminder in the midst of the chaos that was my own that it’s sometimes more important to focus on the needs of the one and the chaos that they might be battling in their own life.

So thank you Ford Motor Company – if it wasn’t for your lousy alternator, I might have missed out on a great gift!

Just Because You Leave High School Doesn't Mean Your Teachers are Done

2009-05-11T20:03:00.006-04:00

In yet another sign that the years since my graduation from high school continue to quickly fade into the past, I received word last night night that another one of my high school teachers has passed away.

She was 83 years old and had lived a long and happy life, devoting her working life to English and her retirement years to her friends, her family, and what I've heard was an absolutely magnificent garden. I hadn't actually seen her in the two-plus decades since I left school, but I had spoken with her on the telephone a few times over the years and I received word from time that she had made a point of keeping up with what I was doing with my life.

I always felt guilty over the years that we had played some ridiculous pranks on her during our youth - setting her turntable speed to 16 rpm just before she was due to start playing a recording of one of Shakespeare's plays; setting the alarm clock on her filing cabinet to go off in a class later in the day; reversing all of the desks in the room so that she was facing one wall and all of the students were facing the other. We always thought we were being funny, but as time went on I always felt badly that we had tormented her as much as we did.

Another of my teachers from those years - a wonderful lady who is godmother to my oldest child, was like my second mother during my parents' divorce, and has become a very dear friend - was the one who had informed me of Mrs. O's death, and she was the one in whom I confided my guilt over the pranks we had played. The response was not what I had expected; she simply laughed and said that teachers are very forgiving folks who understand that they are teaching kids, and that Mrs. O never held those pranks against me. In fact, she told me that the two of them had had many conversations over the years about the direction my life was taking, about some of the writing I had been doing (historical articles published in an Alabama magazine), and about my marriage and the growth of my new family.

Quite unexpectedly, here was another lesson I learned from these two teachers: that they can be very forgiving, and that interest in their students never ends with the walk across the stage in cap-and-gown, diploma held high.

Guilt? It's gone. Now I'm just smiling...

An Evening with Christopher Buckley

2009-05-09T13:56:00.036-04:00

From my younger years, I have vivid recollections of William F. Buckley, Jr., mostly from his role as host of PBS' "Firing Line." I don't know how often my parents watched the show, but I have strong memories of Buckley, reclining in his chair, notes on his knee, speaking with his inimitable accent about important news of the day. As I got older and my political beliefs were being developed, I discovered just how important Buckley had been to generations of conservatives in this country as the father of the movement.

The next generation of the family, son Christopher, wasn't as well known to me. I had heard of his many humorous novels - I suppose the most famous being Thank You for Smoking - but hadn't actually read any of them, and until recently hadn't read any of his columns (which are carried on the website The Daily Beast; I highly recommend them). I also recalled that he had incurred the wrath of the hard-right conservatives when he broke with family tradition and endorsed Barack Obama in the 2008 election. So when I saw that was appearing at Politics and Prose last night to discuss his latest book, Losing Mum and Pup, I took advantage of the opportunity and attended to learn a bit more about him.

As with my previous visits to the store, I opted to arrive early and am glad I did - the place was absolutely packed. I was fortunate to get a good seat, and the friend who was joining me managed to arrive just two or three minutes before I would have been required to relinquish the seat I was holding for him. What was most surprising to me was that contrary to what I was expecting in terms of the age of the crowd, a large majority of those in attendance were in their 70s - seemingly more from WFB's generation than that of his son, but was certainly pleased that his writing holds appeal to such a large segment of folks. One lady seated near me asked if I was familiar with his work, and then proceded to give one of the best layperson's explanations of his writing that I'll ever get - "He takes people from Washington that you'll probably recognize and puts them in situations that aren't really absurd - but then drags them out to as absurd an end as he possibly can."

This was Buckley's thirteenth appearance at Politics and Prose, and he celebrated this event by bringing his son and daughter with him - both of whom really seemed to enjoy being there with him (I can't say all kids their age would have enjoyed doing something like this on a gorgeous Friday spring night in Washington). He was an extremely witty and charming gentleman and reminded me of a cool college professor that takes the class out for beers at the end of the semester. The audience was quite taken with him and hung on his every word.

He began by reading a chapter of his newest book, which covers the year of his life between the death of his mother and the death of his father (the New York Times recently published a great review, which can be read here). It was very poignant but full of humor - made all the more real by the emotion he put into reading it - and we were all obviously on a fine line between laughter and tears. At the conclusion of his reading, he then took several questions from the audience - and it was almost painful listening at some of the insane queries being posed: one gentleman was intent on hearing every opinion Buckley had about the feud between his father and Gore Vidal resulting from the famous incident at the 1968 Democrat convention (a clip of which can be viewed here), which quickly got old; one lady, who had also lost her parents, went into a long explanation of how she had learned things about them as she was going through their papers and how she was so moved by Buckley's experience that she literally "curled up into a fetal position around the book" (he ended his response to her by thanking her for curling up with his book, "however you did it"); another gentleman tried to be very respectful as he asked Buckley if he thought his father's mind had become sclerotic towards the end of his life (which elicited an audible groan from the audience). Despite the inane quality of most of the questions, he handled each of them very gracefully.

Then came the stampede for the signing line, which one gentleman beat by starting to walk towards Buckley during the answer to his last question, just to ensure that he was at the table immediately. My friend and I found a spot towards the end and had a nice visit as the line moved - surprisingly quickly, in fact, as it seemed most of the crowd left after he finished with the question-and-answer session. He took time to chat with everyone and pose for photos for those who asked, and I had an opportunity to tell him how much I had enjoyed reading his Daily Beast columns and was looking forward to his books.

All in all, it was a great evening - and seeing as how Buckley and his family live here in the Washington area, I'm hoping to have more opportunities in the future to hear him speak.

Lunch Served by the Dalai Lama

2009-04-27T08:38:00.007-04:00

One of the most remarkable stories I read in the media over the weekend was one which described the visit paid to a California soup kitchen by the Dalai Lama. In addition to greeting and speaking with those utilizing the kitchen's services - he referred to himself in his remarks as homeless as well, which I'm certain did wonders to give the patrons a sense of elevation - he also put on an apron and jumped behind the counter to serve lunch.

You see politicians and celebrities here in the U.S. making these sorts of gestures all the time (genuine or otherwise) and they often go without much notice (just because you see it so often).

This is definitely something you don't see every day...

You can read the full story here. The photos that I've included here were taken by photographer Noah Berger and ran with the story.

Rethinking the Death Penalty

2009-04-20T22:41:00.002-04:00

Consider this: your spouse or one of your children heads out of the house to run a quick errand – picking up a gallon of milk or gassing up the tank of the car. While there, a gang of kids approaches them in the parking lot and demands their wallet or purse. Your family member resists, and in the course of fighting off the robbers they are killed. There’s a trial and conviction, and because the killing occurred during the commission of a robbery, the potential sentence could be for the guilty to be put to death.

Fast forward to the sentencing hearing, and you are asked to speak – either in support of the death penalty or of life in prison.

What would you do?

For many years, I always thought that it would be an easy question for me should I (God forbid) find myself in that situation: execution. If someone is going to take the life of someone I love, then it’s only fair that there be retribution and that they pay with their life. I can’t even remember the number of times I’ve seen a news story or investigative report about a killer somewhere had their execution delayed time after time (and I get particularly angry when the killing involves a child) and gotten upset over the delayed justice.

In the past few days, however, everything I thought I knew about how I would react – and my support of the death penalty in general – has been turned on its end. After reading a review of Thomas Cahill’s newest book, A Saint on Death Row: The Story of Dominique Green, I decided to go out and pick up a copy, and without question it has made me rethink my entire position. Dominique was a young black man arrested, tried and convicted of a murder during a robbery and later sentenced to death. The conviction came about through a combination of ineffective legal representation, backroom deals between the prosecutors and other white defendants, and a flawed system of justice in Texas whereby a person doesn’t even have to be the triggerman to be sentenced to death.

Cahill makes the point that he’s not even sure whether Dominique was guilty or not of the murder, and Dominique - who always insinuated that someone else pulled the trigger – never named names. However, he does an outstanding job of outlining the horrific miscarriage of justice brought about by the Texas judicial system, and it is infuriating to read about court-appointed attorneys not pursuing leads, prosecutors taking the word of white defendants over that of a black man (with absolutely no evidence to back up their position), and countless other intentional “slips” and sidesteps that ultimately pushed Dominique to his death by lethal injection in Huntsville, Texas in 1994.

In the midst of the book, there were several things in particular that really seized me and wouldn’t let go. One was a quote from Sheila Murphy, a retired judge who came into Dominique’s case towards the end and who made a valiant effort to save his life; she is speaking here about witnessing wives and girlfriends bringing their children to visits with their husbands and boyfriends on death row: “No place for children to play, no books, no coloring books. They just have to sit and wait while their mother talks on the phone to their father. They just look on with eyes so sad – such inhumanity to innocent children under color of law.”

Another point that clung to me was reading about Dominique’s horrible childhood: drug-addicted and abusive parents; a supportive grandmother who died while Dominique was still young; and ultimately fleeing the home with his younger brothers to protect them from the same beatings and burnings he had endured. He had to resort to selling drugs and stealing, but all the while doing so knowing that he couldn’t allow his brothers to travel the road on which he was moving.

There was an overwhelming level of support Dominique received from various individuals and groups, both here and in Europe. Cahill talks at great length about the amazing men and women involved with the Community of Sant’Egidio in Rome who, after one member responded to a letter from Dominique published in an Italian newspaper, went out of their way to show him support and – most significantly – love. They developed a deep and genuine affection for him and were in many ways responsible for the transformation he underwent during his 11 years in prison.

I developed an even greater level of respect for Archbishop Tutu than I already have because of his involvement in this story; he took the time in the midst of a packed schedule in the United States to visit Dominique – to listen to his story, to laugh with him, to cry with him, to show (as with those in Sant’Egidio) him a love and compassion that he hadn’t experienced from his own family. Tutu became a champion of his cause and a source of inspiration for Dominique and for all his fellow prisoners on Texas’ death row. During a sermon following his visit with Dominique, he pointed out one of the great paradoxes about the United States: “You are a very generous people, Americans, and it is very difficult to square with your remarkable vindictiveness, which doesn’t square with your remarkable generosity.”

I was amazed by the transformation which Dominique underwent. Recognizing that he was receiving extremely substandard legal representation by his court-appointed team, he took it upon himself to read every aspect of the law and educate himself about every bit of his case. He read books to improve his mind and strengthen his spirit, and over the 11 years of his incarceration his writing and communications skills evolved from someone with little formal education to a young man of great intellect and articulateness.

But the most powerful take-away from this book (and to bring this entry full circle) was the power of forgiveness – the forgiveness that Dominique had for those who had wronged him, but most especially the forgiveness of the victim’s family towards Dominique. They forgave unconditionally, were strong advocates of a life sentence versus lethal injection, and because of their opposition to the sentence were not invited to witness the execution. One of the sons told reporters, “I felt it was dirty, and the state will have their chance to face a higher authority – that is, God…I mean, Andrew Lastrapes was my daddy in the first place, and I forgave Dominique. I know God has a place for Dominique in heaven. The person I met doesn’t deserve to die. He became close to me, and I pray that he goes to heaven.”

The book left me with quite a few questions. On the surface, how can this country – as advanced and moral as we claim to be – allow such an atrocious judicial system as that found in Texas to continue to exist? How can this country – as advanced and moral as we claim to be – be in such a rush to put people to death, the way Romans crucified without hesitation.

How can we do this – a nation as advanced and moral and, according to many, as Christian as we are?

There are questions on a deeper level as well. How is it that a family who has actually gone through the experience of losing a loved one at the hands of someone else can forgive so easily, and yet for much of my life I have felt there should be no forgiveness? Why is that I have tried live by much of what I learned from Christ in the New Testament, yet have such an Old Testament view of punishment? Is forgiveness learned, or is it just done?

Yes, this book left me with quite a few questions – questions that I’ll be struggling to answer for quite some time…

First Date Follow-Up

2009-04-19T12:19:00.015-04:00

Following up on my last post, I had several comments - both on the blog and off-list - stating that I had done a great job of teasing folks but hadn't done enough to fill out the story and remove the "cliffhanger" status. So, to respect the wishes of some of my friends and readers - and without going into so much detail as to make it boring - let me give you a bit more.

Twenty-five years ago, my family - after having attended one church for nearly two decades - decided to move to a church closer to our home. Being a lover of history and of all things old, I was immediately captivated by the fact that our new church was nearly 150 years old - a brick building with a beautiful sanctuary, huge windows, an extremely high ceiling, and one of those classic churchyards with the tall old oaks and faded stones that give off that wonderful, mysterious aura. The front was bordered by an elegant bring serpentine wall, and the view from the back of the church was of nothing but farms, fields, and a section of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

I was also immediately captivated by a young lady in my Sunday school class - long, blonde hair, beautiful smile, intelligent, and funny. She was also three years older than me, which for a 14-year-old was exciting in itself (my father thought it was great, but to this day I'm convinced that my mother was not at all thrilled with the age difference). As interested as I was in her, I was very pleased to find that she was equally interested in me, and our first few Sunday conversations quickly led to numerous telephone calls, notes, and - as I mentiond in my last post - a first date. It was a wonderful evening, and to this day I vivdly remember much of everything that happened.

The first date went well enough that there were others - concerts, plays, walks through the woods. The whole time I never gave a second thought to the age difference, but I should have recognized that it was always the elephant in the room. As much as I was enjoying our time together, she (as I found out later) was becoming concerned about the elephant, and after a few months things did taper off and ultimately end.

For a 14-year-0ld, that sort of thing can be devastating, and it took me quite some time to get over things. With the hindsight of 25 years, however, I can see even more clearly just how wonderful things were, and how blessed I was to have that time - even with the age difference. In my mind, I have this idealized picture of how things had gone, an image to which I was more than happy to cling. Recently, I pulled out my journal from that time and - other than being able to clearly see how I really was a 14-year-old, no matter how much I thought or acted otherwise - was happy to see that much of the idealism was confirmed.

I haven't seen here in about 15 or 20 years, although I've kept tabs on her and know that she's happily married now and living in Europe. I would like to think that perhaps we'll see each other again one day, and I'll have the opportunity to introduce her to my wife and children and to meet her husband. Maybe there will even be a few laughs about the old days - about our church and our youth group, the friends and experiences - and perhaps even a chance for me to say "thanks" for some great memories that I've gladly carried with me for 25 years.

A Special Day

2009-04-14T00:04:00.002-04:00

Twenty-five years ago tonight, I went on my very first date. It was a special night indeed, and I still treasure the memory of every moment from that evening.

It seems hard to believe that it was already so very long ago...

Living an Effective Life

2009-04-07T13:27:00.003-04:00

As I was perusing several of the blogs which I regularly visit, I ran across a great post at Jim Martin's A Place for the God-Hungry which is actually the first in a series on enjoying life and being more effective. In this installment we read about the first three on the list: taking time each day to nurture your center; surround yourself with encouragers; and choose your attitude.

Personally, this post could not have come at a better time as a result of some challenges I am facing right now, and I took away quite a bit from reading what Jim had to say. I wanted to share the link with you and encourage you to go over for a visit. I've been reading Jim's blog for quite a while and always find some interesting and thought-provoking material there. It will definitely be well worth your time, and I'm certainly looking forward to the continuation of this particular series.

Would You Really Buy an Appliance from This Guy?

2009-03-31T16:09:00.005-04:00

First, it was the Sham Wow; now, it's the Slap Chop. Aside from pure entertainment value (I'll interject here that I LOVE to watch the Magic Bullet infomercial with Berman, the hungover party animal, the lady with the six-inch cigarette ash dangling out of her mouth who complains about dinner always being a production, and the perky blonde who wants to grind coffee), this new product advertisement frightens me.

First, what's with the microphone? He's in a kitchen! Unless he's got it hooked up to his house's home entertainment system and is talking to some mysterious guests out on the patio, I don't think he needs it - we hear you, Vince!! Second, do you really want a guy saying that things are unreliable as he throws them over his shoulder into your sink (although I'm sure earlier takes had him hitting the wall, breaking dishes, or smashing the guy operating the boom mike in the face)?

And most importantly, how ominous is the saying for the product: "We're making American healthy, one slap at a time!" Sounds like he's beating good health into the product's buyers and anyone else within range of his Slap Chop, Sham Wow, or whatever the heck else he's peddling.

So how do I wrap up this brief diatribe? With the commercial!! Enjoy!

Dark Shadows - Classic Soap Opera or Legendary Comedy Show?

2009-03-28T20:29:00.004-04:00

One of my all-time favorite shows was "Dark Shadows," the hokey but somehow enthralling Gothic soap opera of the '60s and '70s. For someone as young as I was, who saw the show in syndication in the afternoons after school, the storylines were enthralling. Now that I'm older and can watch them on DVD, I see them in an entirely new light - a show that, because of the incessant technical errors, flubbed lines, and mismatched sound effects, borders on slapstick. For your enjoyment, here is a set of four videos compiling some of the funniest bloopers from the entire series. By the time I got halfway through part three, my side hurt...

And if someone can tell me at the 3:59 mark of part three who he is very good friends with, I'll come up with some sort of prize!

The Archbishop, the Talk Show Host, and a Remarkable Event

2009-03-27T15:44:00.004-04:00

A wonderful conversation between Archbishop Tutu and Craig Ferguson on the March 4 episode of "The Late, Late Show." It's in three parts, each better than the last.

Deep Thought for the Day

2009-03-24T17:58:00.001-04:00

"If you are a poet, you will see that there is a cloud on this sheet of paper. Without a cloud, there will be no rain; without rain, the trees cannot grow; and without trees, we cannot make paper."

- Thich Nhat Hanh

Dharamsala at My Front Door

2009-03-21T17:08:00.005-04:00

I love collecting autographs - signed books by my favorite authors, politicians, actors. It's a hobby that I've enjoyed for quite a few years (as A. can attest), and I'm always intrigued by who will respond to a request and who will not. Over the years, I've managed to obtain quite a few from some pretty amazing men and women.

Yesterday, I received one that ranks as one of the most remarkable yet.

A. sent me an email yesterday afternoon with the subject line, "You got something in the mail from the Dalai Lama." That was it; nothing else. I was stunned; I had sent a request to his office over a year ago, and even after having received a response from a member of his staff in mid-December I wasn't necessarily sure I would ever get anything back.

But I was - happily - wrong. Anytime anyone has responded to a request for an autograph in the past, I have viewed it both as a gift and as a sign of their generosity. In this case, to say that the picture is a gift from a generous man somehow doesn't seem to go far enough...

The True Impact of Daylight Savings

2009-03-09T15:38:00.006-04:00

Since we were forced - not asked; when we will be asked for once?? - to move our clocks ahead one hour yesterday morning, the great daylight savings leap forward has played havoc on just about everyone I know. I, for one, am not used to getting up before dawn for the drive in to work, nor am I ready for the arguments with the children over why they need to go to bed despite the fact it is still light outside.

One of the funniest things I got was this email, which has been posted here with the permission of its author. I've taken the official approach of the CIA and redacted the names to protect the innocent (or, in this case, amusingly guilty), but it's still good for a laugh.

"Saturday night before I went to bed I set my clock ahead one hour. No problem- didn’t set the alarm for Sunday. This morning my clock went off at 5:20 as usual. I got up at 5:30 and wondered why the cat wasn’t swirling around my feet, meowing for her morning snack, but figured her system was off because of DST. I took my shower, did my hair and makeup. Still no cat. Fixed my coffee. Looked at my clock – 6 a.m. Didn’t hear X's alarm. Went upstairs, turned her light on, noticed her clock said 5 a.m. and I thought I remembered setting it ahead. Re-set her alarm to go off in 5 minutes. Went back downstairs and looked at the microwave. 5 a.m. I do remember setting it one hour ahead. Uh-oh. Went in the living room and turned on the tv. It was 5 a.m. My clock had automatically kicked in DST on top of my manual DST, so I got up at 4:30. Went back upstairs and re-re-set X’s clock to go off at 6. Went back downstairs and drank coffee. 6 a.m. came for real and I went upstairs to get X (she asked me if I had tried to get her up at 5. I confessed.) 6:30 came and no Y. I went upstairs (have worn a path in the carpet by now) and checked her clock. Yes – it’s 6:30, the alarm is on but it’s not ringing. Crap! Her alarm is set for 6:30 p.m. Everyone got where they needed to be on time, and now I’m so tired I’m ready to go face down on my desk."

God bless Arizona, the one state that doesn't to go through daylight savings. And God curse Benjamin Franklin - this was all HIS idea!!

President Lincoln, Me and a Night at the Theater

2009-03-08T13:11:00.017-04:00

Last night was a very surreal moment for me. In fact, any moment would be surreal where you walk into a hall that was the site of man's murder - and then look onto the stage and see that man standing there.

No, A. and I didn't see a ghost, but last night's performance of a new play, "The Heavens are Hung in Black," at Ford's Theatre was so remarkable that you felt like you were in the presence of President Lincoln himself and had the opportunity to accompany him on a few days of his life. The play, commissioned by the Theatre in honor of Lincoln's 200th birthday and penned by playwright James Still, started its run in February and closes with a final performance this afternoon. In the title role of Lincoln is David Selby, who many (including the lady sitting behind us, who would not stop talking about this fact) will remember from his turn as Quentin Collins on "Dark Shadows" in the late 1960s and early 1970s, along with "Falcon Crest" and many other roles.

The story takes place in Washington over the span of several days in August 1862, where Lincoln is in a struggle over how and when to remove General George McClellan from command of the Army of the Potomac (a very intriguing political story if you ever care to read about it), and even more importantly over how to address the issue of the emancipation of the slaves. At an even more emotional level, however, Lincoln is battling some internal demons - his sense of helplessness over the death of so many young men in the war, and his deep grief over the loss of his son Willie. Rather than just being a play where you see the actions of Lincoln and his cabinet, however, much of the story occurs in his dreams on those rare occasions that he allows himself to sleep. In these dreams, he has riveting conversations with John Brown, Jefferson Davis, Stephen Douglas, Dred Scott, a close friend from his days in Springfield, and even the Uncle Tom character from the Stowe novel, all of which center on the issue of slavery.

He is also haunted by visions of the men from both the North and the South who have lost their lives in battle, portrayed in a very dark and dreamlike state by actors dressed in the costumes of each army and walking past and around Lincoln in a dreary, gray light. There is even a remarkable scene where Lincoln visits a theater where Edwin Booth (brother of John Wilkes) and his ensemble are rehearsing "Hamlet," and through the course of their interaction he gradually takes center stage and movingly recites a soliloquy from that play (it is a well-known fact that Lincoln was an avid reader of the works of Shakespeare).

In each of these dream sequences, the audience hears the faint whispers of voices layered one upon another, but it's not at all clear what they are saying. At the end of the play, however, the voices become clear, and what you find is that they are in fact key phrases from conversations Lincoln has held throughout the play which - individually - mean nothing, but when put together suddenly give him the answers he is seeking.

The play was extremely - and at alternate times - moving, humorous and tragic, the music was superb (written in a slow sort of dirge) and I can't say enough about the performances of the entire cast (with particular kudos to Selby and his outstanding portrayal of Lincoln; we don't know for certain how he spoke or how he acted, but Selby makes you believe that what you are seeing is the real deal). I had never before been to Ford's Theatre, so I can't really judge how much of a change there was during the recent 20-plus million dollar renovation; however, there are no bad seats (except for those four or five unfortunate folks who end up behind a column), and the intimacy of the theater is such that you get an excellent view of the stage and some outstanding acoustics. (Camera phone pictures in a darkened space are notoriously bad, but I've added a few here of the interior and exterior of the building in case you have never visited. I've also added some of Selby as Lincoln, which came from a slideshow posted by the theater.)

I have no idea where the play will go from here, and whether there will be other productions in theaters around the country. If you see that it is coming, I strongly encourage you to attend; while it won't capture the sense of mystique and awe that I felt seeing Lincoln on the stage just below the box where he was shot, it will leave a powerful impression.

I'll close here with the teaser trailer of the play posted on YouTube and on the theater's website; if nothing else, the music alone will give you a sense of what to expect.

Unrepeatable Moments

2009-03-05T17:36:00.006-05:00

Recently, I found out that Bishop Jack Spong has a new book due to be released later this year entitled Eternal Life: Pious Dream or Realistic Hope? which I am really looking forward to reading. Have read several of Jack's previous works, I'm sure that he'll be expounding on several ideas and themes that have been covered in various forms in the past.

He actually used the debate over the title of his book - a debate held with his editors and publishers at Harper, no less - as the crux of his weekly column issue today, and provided a very interesting look at the way something as simple as the selection of a few words could cause so much disagreement. I don't know what I was expecting when I read the column, other than an outline of the debate, a brief recap of what the book will be covering, and a few other key themes.

As always, though, someone else had a different idea and decided to throw me a curve ball.

That curve came in the form of an otherwise obscure sentence on page two of the column, which read, "Death gives passion to life by making every moment unrepeatable and calls me to live life to its fullest."

Death gives passion to life by making every moment unrepeatable.

For whatever reason, that small sentence tucked in the middle of a huge paragraph reached out and tripped me as I went running by that portion of the article. I read it two, three, even four times.

Making every moment unrepeatable.

Everyone knows the saying about living life to the fullest, and to make the most of every moment. However, I've never seen it put in such an intriguing way - using a word like "passion" in explaining how to savor each moment. People think of passion in some pretty obvious ways: passion for a job, passion for a hobby, passion for a favorite sports team, passion in romance.

But passion being given to life because of death - that's something entirely new and different.

Being passionate about a moment, and death being a gift. Now I really can't wait to read what else he has in this book. I have a feeling I'll be tripping often.

A New Blog in the Works

2009-03-04T22:11:00.004-05:00

Regular readers of this blog know a bit about my political background and my current political leanings. This same group also knows that I've tended to blog a bit more about politics in recent months. As I got to thinking about it I realized that those sorts of posts are really not in keeping with the purpose of this blog: to discuss my family, my evolving faith, and finding my way as a father and husband.

So as not to mix one goal with another, today I started a side blog strictly to discuss government, politics, and where our country is headed. While I am a conservative and will tend to focus a bit more on that side of the aisle, I'm really hoping it will turn into a place for spirited - but polite - debate by folks from all political stripes. If you go there and agree, let me know - and if you disagree, let me know. The only way to strengthen my position on issues is to learn the positions of others.

Feel free to visit One Man's Politics and join the conversation. I will continue to keep this blog going as well, but will also do more to keep the stated purpose of the two blogs independent of each other.

A Million is a Billion is a Trillion

2009-02-26T17:08:00.003-05:00

Quite a few years back, one of my favorite television shows was the "Cosmos" series hosted by Carl Sagan on PBS. For someone who was going through a childhood fascination with astronomy (due in part to my parent's gift of a subscription to Odyssey magazine), I loved Sagan's explanations of time travel and the formation of the planets and the "billions and billions" of stars in the universe.

Billions was a lot then. Now, not so much.

Trillion dollar deficits; trillion dollar budgets. Trillion dollar problems fixed with trillion dollar solutions. Where does it end? I get so incredibly aggravated watching money get thrown at problems as a band-aid solution, rather than fixing the root of the problems and thus fixing the problems themselves (and Republicans are just as guilty of Democrats, so there's plenty of blame to go around). And with the release of the President's FY 2010 budget proposal this morning and the passage of the FY 2009 omnibus appropriations bill (which includes 9,000 earmarks that really aren't earmarks; they're "special projects"), I get to get all fired up again

In the midst of the numerous news clips that I read at my job each morning, I ran across an excerpt in an article in Politico which quotes David M. Schwartz, author of the children's book How Much is a Million? He tries to give a good way for folks to get their minds around what a trillion really is; I liked it enough that I wanted to share it here.

"I think that the best we can hope for is to make them more concrete. Nobody will ever get a real feel for a trillion dollars. But relating them to human-sized things, or a human time scale, I think we can wrap our minds around them.

"Each step from a million to billion to trillion is times a thousand. If you think of it in terms of time - seconds - and go to a point a million seconds from that, you'll have gone 11-1/2 days into the future. A billion seconds turns out to be 32 years. You'll reach that in 2041. A trillion seconds is 32,000 years. I like to say that I have a pretty good idea of what I'll be doing a million seconds from now, I have no idea what I'll be doing a billion seconds from now, and I have an excellent idea what I'll be doing a trillion seconds from now."

Economic Analysis by My Daughter

2009-02-18T09:10:00.002-05:00

The recent passage of the economic stimulus bill designed to improve public parks, protect San Francisco field mice, semi-socialize our the American medical system -- sorry, I meant to say create jobs -- has been something I've been thinking a lot about lately. What is it going to mean for me and my family? How will we be impacted in the months and years ahead by what proponents continue to claim the bill will do and which I am not fully convinced will ever happen? And how quickly will the public's hero worship of the President collapse when they don't have a new job, a paid-off house, and more money in their pocket by June of this year?

My oldest daughter, on the other hand, boils it down to very simple terms. When I came home from work yesterday, A. said, "MB, tell Daddy what you told me about the stimulus bill." MB looked at me and said, "It's going to be very tall. It has a lot of parts to make it tall."

What fantastic insight from a child -- it will be very tall; a tall order...

The Real Purpose of Education

2009-02-16T16:49:00.004-05:00

A marvelous passage by Frederick Buechner which I read today and wanted to share...

"But the absolutely fundamental purpose of education, as I see it anyway, is to show you that what's most important of all is to be the one thing that nobody else in the whole wide world can be except you, and that is your own unique and precious self. Whatever you do with your life - whatever you end up achieving or not achieving - the great gift you have in you to give to the world is the gift of who you alone are: your way of seeing things, and saying things, and feeling about things, that is like nobody else's. If so much as a single one of you were missing, there would be an empty place at the great feast of life that nobody else in all creation could fill."

(Taken from "The Emerald City: A Commencement Address," in The Clown in the Belfry.)

The Great Blossom Dearie

2009-02-14T14:46:00.003-05:00

"'Deed I Do."

"When Sunny Gets Blue."

"Surry with the Fringe on Top."

"They Say It's Spring."

The list of songs in the catalogue of the great Blossom Dearie is as long as her career, which ended earlier this week at the age of 82. She brought a new voice to the world of jazz beginning in the 1950s and put a new spin -- her spin -- on several old standards. However, I don't think there's anyone alive who, having watched the old Schoolhouse Rock episodes on Saturday morning television, doesn't know one of her most familiar songs.

This song doesn't define her career, but it is the one that introduced millions to a great lady with a small, shy voice.

An Office Break

2009-02-13T20:52:00.004-05:00

I really have to get back into the swing of posting, but decided the easiest way to cheat at a post is to put up a video clip. This is perhaps the funniest five minutes of "The Office" I've ever seen.

Moving Letter from One Set of Presidential Daughters to Another

2009-01-23T08:19:00.010-05:00

Earlier this week, the staff of the Today show (after similar stories by outlets like CNN) was made aware of a letter written to Malia and Sasha Obama by Barbara and Jenna Bush, who talked about life in the White House and the relationship with their father and gave advice on adjusting to their new life as part of an exclusive club. As the father of two small daughtesr of my own, it moved me to tears (probably the only time that Meredith Vieira and I will get emotional about the same thing).

I wanted to share it with you here; the letter is entitled, "Playing House in the White House."

Taking to the Streets

2009-01-21T14:34:00.008-05:00

No, not in the sense of causing a riot, but more just to witness how much quieter Washington has become since yesterday (it's amazing how quickly 2 million people can just fade away). During my lunch hour today, I took our intern and went walking down around the White House (conveniently located just three blocks from the office) so that she could see it for the first time -- and so that I could see what was going on with the man on the street.

Heading down to Pennsylvania Avenue and cutting across by the reviewing stand, I was amazed to find the crowd of folks mingling around the home was still pretty sizable -- even though the most exciting thing to watch was the crews already hard at work tearing apart the stand, the media platform, and all of the bleachers. The view of the north front of the White House was difficult to see because of everything blocking the view, but there were still a few points at the gates to the drive where you could slide up to the fence and peer through. I think a lot of the folks were hoping for a glimpse of the new First Couple, and who knows: maybe they would have gotten one later on. For the team being, they were still just reveling in the moment.

The walk took us down 15th Street and around to the South Lawn, where there was also a good number of people angling for the souvenir photographs with the White House as the backdrop. Unlike other visits, though, where folks have tended to be a bit pushy in trying to get to the fence, everyone was exceptionally polite and accommodating. And all of them were still glowing over the events that brought them to the city to begin with, and several were just lingering in the area, taking photo after photo -- seemingly afraid to stop for fear that everything would end up being a dream.

It really is a remarkable time to be in this city, and it will be fascinating to see what happens in the days and weeks ahead -- and whether our new President gets out and about in the Nation's Capital as much as people are hoping...

Transition

2009-01-20T18:57:00.000-05:00

A Few Thoughts on This Inauguration Day

2009-01-19T11:15:00.010-05:00

Eight years ago today, and again four years ago today, I was one of the tens of thousands who ventured onto the grounds of the United States Capitol (with prized tickets in hand) to witness history as President Bush took the oath of office. Both were extremely exciting events and it was an honor for me and A. (she attended the 2001 inaugural with me) to be able to witness the ceremony and the continuation of a tradition that started with George Washington in 1789.

Today, the tradition will be continued as Barack Obama takes the oath of office and begins his four-year term as president. This time, I won't be out on the Capitol grounds or on the National Mall -- not because I don't think this is historic, but because it's a lot more difficult contending with two million people than it is with just 300,000. No, this year we'll be watching from our comfortable and heated den as power is transferred peacefully from one administration to another. Having been there, though, I get some sense of the excitement the men, women and children who have been crowded into Washington since before dawn are feeling to be a part of a historic event.

But there's a lot more to the excitement to which I will never fully be able to relate. Obama's inaugural marks more for so many people than just a simple handover of power; it marks a massive racial and generational step forward that even forty years ago was almost unthinkable. I don't think that anyone present for Dr. King's speech at the Lincoln Memorial in 1963 could in their wildest dreams imagine that a young African-American -- not much older than Dr. King was on that August day -- would return to the steps of that memorial just 46 years later to give a speech, not as a minister or politician but as the president-elect of the United States. Even one of my heroes, John Lewis, one of the icons of the Civil Rights movement, still seems stunned by how far this country has come, and how quickly it has done it. (One of the best Capitol Hill newspapers, Politico, ran a great story about Lewis in today's edition: "A 'Down Payment' on the Dream.")

The generational change is more apparent to me. In fact, I've seen this change at work for a few years; it was always a sign to me of getting older that, while working in the House of Representatives, I saw more members of Congress and many more staffers who were nearly a decade younger than me. After getting over the shock of recognizing that I was getting older and that politics was getting younger, I also recognized how far we've come since the days of the Sam Rayburns and the Tip O'Neills and the Dwight Eisenhowers, days when you couldn't be taken seriously as a politician or a leader if you didn't have the age and experience to reinforce the perception that you should in fact be in charge. I get a sense of how the young voters of the 1960s felt when John Kennedy was elected, that they were finally being represented by someone who understood them and was one of them (in terms of generation, not money).

I did not vote for Barack Obama, but I took the time to look at him and his candidacy. The photo above, which regular readers of this blog will recognize, was taken at a rally I attended at American University in January of last year (the day he was endorsed by Ted Kennedy). On that day, when nearly 30,000 people crowded into back-to-back events at that college, I got a glimpse of the excitement that Obama was generating -- not just among black Americans, young Americans, or Democrats, but across all racial, political and generational lines.

Today, I have moved beyond watching Obama as a Republican or as an opponent; today, I will be watching as an American hopeful that things will be better for his daughters in the future. I will be watching on television with my daughters as they experience for the first time the peaceful transfer of power from one president to another. I will try and answer the questions that I know my oldest will inevitably ask about the day. And I will watch the faces of the men and women, young and old, black and white, who have traveled from near and far, from the United States and from overseas, as they celebrate the change in their lives and in the life of the country.

The election is over, and it is time to once again try and come together. I have friends and acquaintances who want Obama to fail -- little recognizing that if he fails, the country fails. There will be time enough to try and seat a new president in four years; until then, I think we should keep in mind the words of Bishop Gene Robinson from the invocation he delivered at the Lincoln Memorial just a few days ago:

... God, we give you thanks for your child Barack, as he assumes the office of President of the United States.

Give him wisdom beyond his years, and inspire him with Lincoln’s reconciling leadership style, President Kennedy’s ability to enlist our best efforts, and Dr. King’s dream of a nation for ALL the people.

Give him a quiet heart, for our Ship of State needs a steady, calm captain in these times.

Give him stirring words, for we will need to be inspired and motivated to make the personal and common sacrifices necessary to facing the challenges ahead.

Make him color-blind, reminding him of his own words that under his leadership, there will be neither red nor blue states, but the United States.

Help him remember his own oppression as a minority, drawing on that experience of discrimination, that he might seek to change the lives of those who are still its victims.

Give him the strength to find family time and privacy, and help him remember that even though he is president, a father only gets one shot at his daughters’ childhoods.

And please, God, keep him safe. We know we ask too much of our presidents, and we’re asking FAR too much of this one. We know the risk he and his wife are taking for all of us, and we implore you, O good and great God, to keep him safe. Hold him in the palm of your hand – that he might do the work we have called him to do, that he might find joy in this impossible calling, and that in the end, he might lead us as a nation to a place of integrity, prosperity and peace.

AMEN.

Daily Devotional Courtesy of the Family Drive to Church

2009-01-04T18:05:00.004-05:00

The family was piled into the car to head for church this morning, and as we were backing out of the driveway E noticed that one of our neighbors still had his Christmas display set up in the yard (very commercial, I might add; everything from giant inflatable holiday characters to tons of lights and even a creche made up of nothing but dinosaurs and Godzilla action figures). She started screaming, "Santa! Santa!" Almost immediately, MB countered, "No, it's not Santa. He's at the North Pole!"

I tried to explain that what E had seen wasn't the real Santa, but rather an inflatable Santa dummy that was in the yard, but MB would have none of it and said that it WASN'T Santa or a Santa doll -- he WASN'T there. However, she hadn't actually even been looking in that direction, and so I said, "Just because you don't see something doesn't mean it's not there."

And then I stopped talking because I had just, in trying to explain something to my oldest daughter, defined the very faith struggle that I have endured at different periods in my life. I know God has been very present throughout my life -- and at very crucial points, ranging from my car accident right after high school graduation to being protected during my time in the United Arab Emirates during the Gulf War in 1991. However, I've always been very much a sort of "I have to see someone sit in that chair before I'll believe it holds them" sort of person with regard to my faith, and I've been able to overcome that with varying degrees of success.

But does the fact that I so quickly recognized the significance of what I had said so quickly after I said it mean that that faith is more embedded in me than even I realize? In the midst of a crazy life and days that seem to have us running from point 1 to point 3 without even noticing that we've hit point 2, was this a blessed moment of clarity?

In trying to give MB something to think about, I have in fact been given something to think about.

What Do I Want to Accomplish in 2009?

2009-01-01T16:55:00.005-05:00

So ... having missed the entire month of December -- there was just too much else going on for me to take the time to blog -- I now find myself at the leading edge of a new year. It's been a quiet celebration: a big lunch; an amusing Michael Palin documentary tracing the steps of Ernest Hemingway; time to un-Christmas the house and move everything into the clean New Year's phase; movies and some rough-housing for MB and E (who couldn't go outside because of the cold). What am I forgetting?

Ah, yes -- the resolutions.

I used to tell people that I gave up making resolutions because I never kept to them anyway. But is not making a resolution the same as resolving to do nothing? If so, that will never do. So what do I resolve to do this year? Here's what I'm thinking:

More focus on my spiritual life. Over the past year, I've gotten a good distance away from prayer and focus on my faith journey and development. We've gotten very involved at our new church, but I've allowed myself to get to a point where I've forgotten how to effectively pray and to do some serious study each week. I can't be a truly good father and role model for the girls if I'm not focusing on what should be the most important part of my life, and learning as much as I can so that I can be prepared to help them with their questions about God and faith as they get older.
More time with A and the girls. The work hours for my job this year will be in the neighborhood of 8-6:30 every day, and so I will have to do more to make the most out of the time I have with them during the course of a week.
Become more financially responsible. With a new car and a house purchase floating somewhere on the family's horizon, and with A currently out of work, money will become even more important. With my current job, this particular time isn't as much of a cause for stress as it would be if I were working at one of my previous jobs. However, I would like to focus more on saving and on what we need, rather than the bright, glittery books that catch my eye in the bookstore window!

Take more time to read for fun. I read so much during the course of a day at work that I really only read for pleasure a few minutes a day. That has to change, since it's one of my biggest sources of relaxation -- and since I have so much Hemingway, Mishima, Fitzgerald, and American Revolutionary-era books and countless others on the shelves and stacked by the bed that need to be showed some love.
Write more. I really want to get back to blogging more regularly, journaling more regularly, and continuing with my short-story writing that I started last year and continued in fits and starts. And with whatever time I have left, I have some great ideas for some full-length projects to take on at some point down the road.

Happy New Year to everyone, and thanks for continuing to visit and comment here. I look forward to hearing and seeing more of you over the next year!

Overwhelming Emotion from a Powerful Film

2008-11-28T23:38:00.009-05:00

It seems that whenever I review a movie on this blog, I have a fairly easy time of commenting on it: the quality of the acting and the plot; the emotion of the soundtrack; whether it moved me to laugh or cry in a genuine way. In short, I am usually pretty good about putting down what I would like folks to know about any given film. Tonight, things are different. I'm having a very difficult time putting into words how I'm feeling after A. and I went and saw "The Boy in the Striped Pajamas." Many films are advertised as being "a haunting story" and fall short of the mark; this one will stay with me forever.

Put simply, I can only say that as I walked out of the theater at the end of the 90-minute film, I felt emotionally gutted.

The first hour or so of the movie laid out the basic parts of the story (and I'll try not to give too much away): German army officer gets promotion and command of a concentration camp; he moves his wife, eight-year-old son (Bruno), and 12-year-old daughter to a new home on the outskirts of the camp; son sees what he thinks is a farm on the back of their property; son goes exploring the area that he thinks borders the farm and meets a boy of the exact same age (Shmuel) living on the other side of the fence. Both of the boys have a great deal of innocence about them: Bruno doesn't understand why Shmuel doesn't have more children to play with and why he isn't excited about living on a farm, and Shmuel doesn't understand what has become of his family and why Bruno thinks that the numbers he wears on his pajamas are part of a game that everyone is playing.

Both boys realize that they are not supposed to be friends, but friends they become -- a friendship that grows from curiosity and an early distrust into genuine trust and concern for one another. Because of that friendship, Bruno -- in the last 30 emotionally-draining minutes of the film -- takes a completely unexpected step to help Shmuel find answers about his family and because of this is standing with his friend at the heart-wrenching conclusion.

I'll say here that I highly recommend this film and give it a five-out-of-five. The acting is brilliant, the children who play Bruno and Shmuel are amazing, and the musical score by James Horner is in my opinion one of the best he has ever produced. However, everything you may have heard on the television trailers about how this is a film that will stay with you for the rest of your life is absolutely correct. Everyone in the theater walked out without saying a word, and I didn't say anything at all in the car throughout the entire drive back home.

There is absolutely no way, short of having read the book in advance (which I hadn't), that you can be prepared for this film -- for what you see, for how it hits you, and for the emotion that is pulled out of you by the end. It will definitely make a lasting impression.

Beautiful Song for a Quiet Friday

2008-11-28T19:11:00.003-05:00

A nice, relaxing day around the in-laws' house, so I really don't have much to talk about (I've avoided really getting my mind going today). Instead, I'll share another great video here: Chet Atkins and Don McLean performing a beautiful rendition of one of my favorite songs, "Vincent."

The Economy Comes-a Callin'

2008-11-24T21:17:00.004-05:00

The growing economic slowdown finally hit home today -- A. called me as she was headed out of her office this afternoon to let me know that her boss had called her into his office and laid her off. Business there had gotten so bad that he really didn't have any choice in the matter; however, he was gracious enough to offer her a good recommendation if she needed it.

Naturally, this came as a shock, although A. wasn't nearly as upset as she might have been. She had been talking for a while about possibly adjusting her schedule so that she would have more time at home with the girls, and to give her more time to study for the LSAT (which she'll be taking in June). Additionally, we're blessed enough with the job that I have that we felt confident that we'd be okay if A. were to ever leave her job, so no great worries there either.

Having been through an extended period of unemployment last year, we're psychologically better able to handle things like this -- although having that kind of life experience is never fun, no matter how strong or better prepared it makes you. There is a blessing with all of this, though -- a job interview in the morning for her. Another company in the area had contacted her recently after having run across her resume, and a successful phone interview last week led to a request for an in-person meeting tomorrow. It's still too early to know what this position entails and whether it will allow her to use her education and previous work experience to great advantage, or when this job would even start if she is hired, but we are hopeful that this might be the silver lining in all of this.

In Memoriam: 45 Years Ago Today

2008-11-22T09:03:00.004-05:00

An Evening with Christopher Plummer

2008-11-18T21:46:00.005-05:00

This evening, Washington offered another great cultural event that I was fortunate enough to witness. Actually, one of Washington's great independent booksellers, Politics and Prose, continued their phenomenal series of nightly appearances by writers by hosting one of my all-time favorite actors, Christopher Plummer. Plummer, who recently published his memoirs and is in the midst of a tour promoting his book, entertained a very large audience in the store through a 45-minute conversation with XM (formerly NPR) host Bob Edwards.

He is an extremely humorous and charming man, and the stories he told about his early career in the theater and television gave but a glimpse of the great life that he has shared with us in his new book. He was also very gracious and took extra time speaking with every customer who went through the signing line, even posing for photographs with anyone who asked. There were many older ladies in the audience who were almost like schoolgirls waiting to see him, and many brought old keepsakes -- playbills, an original soundtrack for the "Sound of Music," old photos -- that they giddily asked him to sign. I was trying to picture my grandmother up there fawning over him!

A great event, and I'm looking forward with great anticipation to reading his book!

A Moment of Reflection Before the Next Phase Begins

2008-11-05T09:30:00.002-05:00

The election has ended; President-elect Obama is on his way to the White House; Senator McCain -- after a very eloquent and gracious concession speech -- is on his way back to the Senate. In terms of the historic nature of this event, it's incredible and something well worth celebrating.

During the time ahead, though, the political differences will be argued and both my fiscal conservatism and my social liberalism will be challenged from many sides. I really look forward to the debates ahead, and as a great lover of the game of politics I am looking forward even more to the palace intrigue that will begin at both ends of Pennsylvania Avenue.

Today, it is time to put partisanship aside and look at what the election means for the nation. Michael Gerson, a columnist for the Washington Post, wrote what I feel is a very eloquent piece about where we are at this point in history. I commend it to you here today and hope that in the time ahead everyone focuses on the fact that it's not the R or the D behind a name that matters, but what we can all do for the country.

"Hail to the Chief"
By Michael Gerson
Wednesday, November 5, 2008

I come to this moment of national decision with deep concerns about the next president. His victory is likely to unleash an ideological and vengeful Democratic Congress. In the testing of a long campaign, Barack Obama has seemed thoughtful but sometimes hesitant and unsure of his bearings. He promises outreach and healing but holds to a liberalism that sees no need for innovation. And as the result of a financial panic that unfairly undermined all Republicans, Obama has stumbled into the most dangerous kind of victory. A mandate for change but not for ideas. A mandate without clear meaning.

But a presidential election is more than a political choice; it is a moral dividing line. It involves not just the triumph of a majority but a transfer of legitimacy that binds the minority as well. This is a largely undiscussed topic in modern political debate: legitimacy. It is a kind of democratic magic that turns votes into authority. It does not require political agreement. It does imply a patriotic respect for the processes of government and a determination to honor the president for the sake of the office he holds.

In the past few decades, the magic of legitimacy has seemed to fade. Opponents of President Bill Clinton turned their disagreements (and Clinton's human failures) into an assault on his power. Some turned to insane conspiracy theories, including accusations of politically motivated murder. After President Bush's reelection, elements of the left began their own attack on his legitimacy, talking of impeachment while repeating lunatic theories about deception and criminality.

After a deserved honeymoon, the new president is likely to find that the intensity of this bitterness has only gathered. Because of the ideological polarization of cable television news, talk radio and the Internet, Americans can now get their information from entirely partisan sources. They can live, if they choose to, in an ideological world of their own creation, viewing anyone outside that world as an idiot or criminal, and finding many who will cheer their intemperance. Liberals have perfected this machinery of disdain over the past few years. Given the provocation, the same approach is likely to be turned against the new president by the right as well.

Barack Obama's first years may well be dominated by a recession and a swiftly arming Iran. Some conservatives will be tempted to take joy from his inevitable struggles; others to spin conspiracy theories from his background and associations. It will be easy to blame every emerging challenge on the faults and failures of an inexperienced young president. But it will be more difficult for me.

I remember the vivid days of possibility that follow a presidential victory. I happened to be in the Roosevelt Room in January 2001 just as the portrait of Teddy Roosevelt, heroic on horseback, was moved over the fireplace, where it hangs during Republican administrations. And I know that someone, feeling the same hope and burden that I felt, will be watching when Franklin Roosevelt is moved back to the place of honor.

There is a tremendous sense of history and responsibility that comes with serving in the White House. You gain an appreciation for the conflicted choices others have faced -- and for the untamed role of history in frustrating the best of plans. It becomes easier to understand a president's challenges and harder to question his motives. Ultimately, I believe that every president, and the staff he hires, feels the duty to serve a single national interest. And, ultimately, we need our presidents to succeed, not to fail for our own satisfaction or vindication.

This presidency in particular should be a source of pride even for those who do not share its priorities. An African American will take the oath of office blocks from where slaves were once housed in pens and sold for profit. He will sleep in a house built in part by slave labor, near the room where Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation with firm hand. He will host dinners where Teddy Roosevelt in 1901 entertained the first African American to be a formal dinner guest in the White House; command a military that was not officially integrated until 1948. Every event, every act, will complete a cycle of history. It will be the most dramatic possible demonstration that the promise of America -- so long deferred -- is not a lie.

I suspect I will have many substantive criticisms of the new administration, beginning soon enough. Today I have only one message for Barack Obama, who will be our president, my president: Hail to the chief.

What's On My Mind Headed Into Tuesday - Part 3

2008-11-03T20:00:00.003-05:00

I'm running out of time before tomorrow's election and I haven't yet run out of issues to discuss, so today I'm going to focus on the two biggest things on my mind as I head into the voting booth tomorrow.

This picture from our family vacation in August shows MB and E. looking out at the ocean, but I've always thought of it with the added layer of looking out to the horizon. Tomorrow represents moving one step closer to the horizon of their lives -- their future. I know how I'm voting and I'm comfortable with my decision, but regardless of what happens tomorrow I'll do whatever I can as a parent to secure their future, their horizons.

And if Senator Obama does in fact win the election, then consider me a member of the loyal opposition for the next four years.

What's On My Mind Headed Into Tuesday - Part 2

2008-11-02T14:42:00.008-05:00

The next two things of concern to me headed into Tuesday's election...

1. Card check. Those pressing this legislation would rather have you focus on the misleading title, the Employee Free Choice Act, rather than on the fact that if passed the bill means anything but a free choice for American workers. Right now, the decision on whether to unionize is a two-step process: workers are first asked if they want to hold a vote on unionization, and if 30 percent say yes then there is a second vote on whether to unionize (a vote that is done by secret ballot). In this method, even if a worker doesn't want a unionized workplace, they can say they want to hold an election and then vote against it with their private ballot. Under card check rules, however, unionizing is moved to a one-step process where workers automatically vote on unionizing -- and it's done in such a way that their vote is public, and where they are open to pressure from coworkers and union organizers to vote for it. Proponents of the legislation say that it doesn't take away the secret ballot at all, but that is a flat-out lie.

Why is card check such an important issue for unions (and the Democrats they support with their contributions)? Quite simply, it is because unions don't hold the sway that they once did -- their membership rolls have been steadily declining, and the money they are able to obtain through union dues has also fallen. If card check is enacted, union rolls will go up, mandatory dues will increase, and organized labor will once again have vast pools of money to play with and throw at their candidates of choice. This is such a big issue for them, in fact, that a story in the Wall Street Journal a few months ago stated that organized labor intends to spend upwards of $300 million in this election cycle for candidates and to push this agenda.

What will this mean for businesses and workers if it passes? That depends on the company for which these men and women work, but in most instances it will among other things:

Mandate new benefit plans and salaries for workers (which, at least with the company for whom I work, will actually be much lower on both counts than what workers are receiving);
Dictate new job titles and levels of seniority that could be more restrictive than those put into place by management;
Make it more difficult for companies to expand and complete renovations or improvements to their workplaces because of being forced to adhere to union regulations on time-lines and contract bidding; and
Subject management to the whims of organized labor with regard to strikes and work stoppages.

The House of Representatives passed this last year, and it was only because the Democrats held fewer than 60 seats in the Senate that it didn't progress further. Obama has said he will sign any card check bill that makes it to his desk; McCain is opposed. In short, this bill could be disastrous for American businesses, and even though polls have shown that an overwhelming number of men and women don't like the idea and would be less inclined to vote for a candidate who supports card check, many politicians have very little backbone and are more worried about losing the financial support of unions than representing their constituents.

2. Reductions in the military. Last week, Barney Frank of Massachusetts announced his desire to cut the military budget by 25 percent, which translates to roughly $150 billion. That's a pretty ambitious goal, particularly since -- wait for it -- Congress just recently passed legislation calling for an additional 92,000 Army troops and Marines between now and 2013.

Things in Iraq and Afghanistan have not gone well, despite the success of the surge in recent months, and troops are most definitely stretched thin with their deployments. But is cutting the military budget the way to approach solving this problem? Remember, the Democrats are the ones who are the first to say that their votes against bills providing funding for the troops aren't a demonstration of their lack of support for the troops. If that's the case, then what would slashing $150 billion show them? And I wouldn't be too quick to say that it's money that would be allocated for weapons systems -- because in the long run, I have a strong suspicion that that will not be the case.

Senator Obama has denied that he plans on doing this, but given that if he wins he will have a majority in both the House and Senate with which to work, would he have the guts to buck his party and veto such a measure? Given his past record of bucking his party in favor of the national interest, I don't think so.

What's On My Mind Headed Into Tuesday - Part 1

2008-11-01T16:34:00.004-04:00

Four days out from the election, and I admittedly have some very great concerns about the direction this country may take over the next four years as a result of the outcome of Tuesday's vote. Regular visitors to my blog know that I try extremely hard to examine issues from both sides and not jump based on my conservative gut, and I have tried to do that in thinking through how I feel about this election. Over the next few days (and perhaps even several times each day), I'm going to lay out some of what concerns me and what will be on my mind as I head into the voting booth next week.

In this installment:

1. Single-party control of the government. I'll be the first to admit -- even as a conservative -- that the eight years of the Bush Administration overlapped with the 12 years of Republican control (at varying times) of the House and Senate have been a disaster. The party which came in on the heels of the 1994 Republican Revolution, whose leaders proclaimed that they were heralding the beginning of an era of smaller government, completely lost its way. Any surpluses which existed (side bar: the surpluses of the Clinton years were the result of Congress and the Administration working together; trying to give credit solely to Clinton is incorrect, since it takes both ends of Pennsylvania Avenue to get legislation enacted) are long gone, and yes, spending has increased dramatically. The past year alone has seen falling GDP, rising unemployment, and the revelation that our national economy is much more fragile than we were led to believe (or than the experts such as Alan Greenspan even expected). The tax cuts enacted in 2001 and 2003 did work, and revenue flowing into D.C. actually increased; it just couldn't keep pace with the checks the government was having to send out of D.C.

But is swinging the pendulum completely to the other side going to make things any better? I don't believe it will. Just as the Republicans during the past several years threw bipartisanship out the window, the Democrats since 1996 have done no better (even with Speaker Pelosi's pledge to bring both sides of the aisle together to work for the common good). And putting control in the hands of a party who I fear will ignore the members of its more moderate segment and throw the situation even further left will do just as much harm as the ultra-conservatives who have tried to guide the agenda since 1994. Any hope of "Washington coming together for the common good" is close to being completely gone for many years, and unlike the previous eras of Democrat control of Washington (the years when the Sam Rayburns and Tip O'Neills actually worked with Republicans) I fear that the hands of bipartisanship extended across the aisle will be completely withdrawn.

2. New taxes and wealth "redistribution." Ever since Senator Obama made his now-famous comment to Joe Wurzelbacher about spreading around the wealth to ensure that those behind him have a fair opportunity, folks are quick to throw around the word socialism. I'm not worried about what word is used to describe it, be it socialism or anything else, but I am worried about why the government feels it necessary to determine who I help and to what extent I help them. I used to consider myself middle class, but with the moving-target definition we've gotten of that lately (Is it $250,000? Is it $200,000? Is it $100,000?) I'm not so sure anymore. Depending on what number folks finally decide on, I may find myself suddenly (and quite unexpectedly) in the upper class.

My family and I contribute quite a bit to charity each year, and would in fact like to be able to do more. The reality is there are other financial obligations and debts that we must eliminate first. With increased taxes, how are we going to do that? It will take longer to pay down the debt, and we'll have less coming into our household that we can in turn give to those churches and charities that we choose to help. So point one: higher taxes will restrict our ability to give. And I have always believed that it is not government's responsibility to be the sole source of public assistance; the American people should take that upon themselves to help their fellow man, while at the same time recognizing that we should strive to give a hand-up, not a hand-out. It seems to surprise a lot of folks, but poverty also existed in the time of the founding fathers; however, mandating that the government address these problems was not something they included in the Constitution. They relied on the inherent good nature and goodwill of man to address these problems; why has it shifted so much in the 221 years since the drafting of the Constitution that we now expect government to hand us everything? Instead of giving candidates nearly one billion dollars for attack ads and staff salaries, think about what good we could have done with that money on the streets of our inner cities, our shelters, our food banks, and our charities.

Point two: even if we do ultimately fall into the category of receiving a further promised tax cut, I'm certainly not fool enough to ignore the fact that the taxes passed on instead to small businesses will hit us just as much as if we had more money being taken directly out of our checks. Sure, we may (hypothetically as an example here) have an extra $100 a month coming in, but that money will in turn have to go to our childrens' daycare expenses (increased taxes on them will drive up their fees), food (increased taxes on farms and food producers will drive up their overhead, and those costs will be passed on to us), fuel (the small, independent gas station owners will have to pay more and increase their portion of the gasoline cost -- as will we), utilities (taxes applied to companies providing our electric, water and gas services will increase our rates) -- and on and on and on.

(Side-bar: It really aggravates me when politicians and the American public rail on oil companies for what they term "obscene profits." For me, God love them for their success!! Why should we penalize anyone for working hard and achieving great success, whether they be a small business or a multinational? And I certainly think it's ridiculous to focus on the oil and gas industry alone: in 2005, per dollar of sales, the oil industry made eight cents of profit, and yet you never seem to hear that the biotech industry made nearly 20 cents profit per dollar, or that banks and lending institutions made nearly 18 cents per dollar. Even technology firms during that time made about two cents more in profit per dollar. Why aren't they being targeted for increased taxes? Why aren't the Democrats hammering them about windfall profits? My answer: it's not sexy to increase taxes on Microsoft, but it sure looks good to stick it to Conoco Phillips or ExxonMobil.)

Next installment in my pre-election series: card check and the military.

Finding Some Peace in a Hectic Time

2008-10-28T19:49:00.005-04:00

With one week until the election, I've got a lot on my mind -- hopes, concerns and comments about what we may see in the first 100 days of the next administration. But rather than try and sort it all out tonight, I instead want to focus on something peaceful -- something to calm my mind and get me to regain some balance. It's a photo I took a few years ago of a place where I go often to seek peace and solace - Washington National Cathedral.

Sharing History

2008-10-22T21:11:00.012-04:00

One of MB's favorite activities at her Montessori school is the weekly show-and-tell time on Tuesdays. Typically, there's no set item that she and her classmates must bring, and often she takes along one of her Disney princess dolls or something having to do with ballet class. I've never actually been able to be there on a day where they've done show-and-tell, and it seems that it's often forgettable for the kids -- as evidenced by the fact that when I ask her what the other kids bring, she gives me a shrug and the "I don't know" look.

This week, the teachers asked that each child bring something relating to their family. Based on what A. told me after the fact, most of the kids ignored the request and brought random items. MB, however, went armed with part of her history -- photographs of her family.

Having a father who spent many years as a professional genealogist and has loved preserving our family's history for as long as I can remember, I've been fortunate to be able to see and read things about my family that are absolutely fascinating. For me, the old photographs are the most amazing thing, and my father has taken great care to scan as many of them as possible so that my siblings and I will have them for many years to come. Out of that collection, I printed several for MB that while not holding any special significance for her now will be very important to her and her sister in later years. I think the greatest gift we can pass on to our children (besides our love and support) is our family legacy, and I hope to do that as much possible in the years ahead.

To round out the story, I'd like to share a few of them here:

This first picture (left) is of one of my great-great-great grandmothers, taken not long before her death in 1919. I see someone who has had a difficult life and who is very tired, but who also seems very much at peace.

The picture on the right is of one set of my great-great grandparents, taken on their wedding day in 1906. In contrast to the first picture, I see youth, optimism and life's road that's wide open before them.

And finally, an example of the multi-generational photos that I love so much; the photo below was taken when I was just two or three years old and is of me (the really happy looking chap), my father, my grandfather, and my great-grandmother. She was the only grandparent of that generation who lived long enough to see any of her great-grandchildren; sadly, I only have an extremely vague recollection of her -- and judging from how thrilled I look in this picture, I must be blocking memories of the day.

Further Thoughts on Colin Powell

2008-10-20T21:17:00.008-04:00

I suppose that I'm too much of an optimist to hope that in the 24 hours since Colin Powell announced his support of Senator Obama, those who were vehemently opposed to that endorsement (and who were making comments to that effect) would have at least taken the time to listen to the entire interview on "Meet the Press." Again, even though I'm disappointed by the announcement, I thought Powell gave a very eloquent explanation as to why he came to this decision -- and at the end of the day he stills has my respect.

However, the messages coming across on a few political message boards to which I belong told a different story; a few examples (with the names removed to protect their privacy):

"I'm sorry, I don't get it, never have. Powell took credit for Schwartzkopf's [sic] achievements in Desert Storm, then used it to push his career as a politician. Norman, on the other hand, retired and quietly lives in Florida. Powell has done nothing to deserve being anyone's hero. He wasn't a soldier. He was a paper pushing bureaucrat and a politician."
"Colin Powell got us into the war in Iraq under false pretenses (and fake Anthrax)... Should we trust him now with his latest "flimsy" endorsement of Barack Obama?"
"I was heartbroken to hear this. Just heartbroken. He was one of my heros [sic]. I had tremendous respect for him and thought he was a great example to all."
"Here, after so many years we learned to treat every person as human without color or religion preferences, and out come in someone who was self proclaimed republican uttering such nonsense, and only reinforce the old bias against the black race. What a shame!"

I think you get the idea; there were certainly a lot more like this. While I can't rebut all of the comments flying around now, I'd like to offer a few thoughts on these comments (in order that I posted them).

1. Powell was and is, first and foremost, a soldier. When he retired from the military, he didn't actively seek any political or bureaucratic job; he was asked by several different presidents to serve, and being the good soldier he did what he felt was his duty. And by declining the opportunity he had to run for president in 1996, he pretty much killed any pretense that he was a politician.

2. Setting aside the argument about Powell's role in the leadup to the war in Iraq, I don't think his argument for Obama was flimsy. As with everything he's done in his life, it was a rational and well thought-out explanation. Good soldiers, especially those who make four-star rank, never do anything flimsily.

3. Was one of your heroes? Every hero I can think of has some sort of flaw; for a lot of folks during the past few days, it is that Powell went across party lines to endorse Obama. But is the fact that you disagree with one decision in a 71-year life enough reason to completely dismiss the high regard in which you held him in previous years?

4. I am so tired of race being an issue in this campaign. Support Obama or McCain, it's a race issue; oppose Obama or McCain, and it's a race issue. For me, the argument has no merit; yes, there are many voters for whom race is a significant issue, but to try and focus so much time on something that to me is a poor excuse for opposing a candidate is ridiculous. During his "Meet the Press" interview, Powell even went so far as to say up front that he wasn't going to support McCain because they were friends, and he wasn't going to support Obama because he was black. It's sad that here we are in the 21st century and a man's word can't be taken anymore. And I can hear the folks now, saying, "Well, if he hadn't lied at the UN, maybe we'd believe him now."

In the long run, I don't think this endorsement is going to sway many voters one way or another, being instead just a feather of support in Obama's cap. People just need to accept it and move on, and focus on issues that ultimately will make a difference in the final 15 days of this race.

Powell Endorses Obama

2008-10-19T10:28:00.006-04:00

After months of rumors and speculation, Secretary Powell formally announced his support of Barack Obama this morning. Almost immediately, I started getting emails from folks who were outraged about his decision, who (regretfully) tried to paint it as yet a further example of a black man feeling duty bound to support another black man, and who said he was doing this as a way of getting revenge against the Bush Administration for the failures he witnessed during his four years at the State Department.

I have too much respect for Colin Powell to believe that any of those are true. I've long been an admirer of his life career, and having done extensive reading him over the years (including Karen Deyoung's outstanding biography Soldier) have found that he never makes any decision based on political motivation. Yes, he proclaimed himself a Republican several years ago, but his politics have always been tempered more by a sense of moderation (echoed by his statement on "Meet the Press" this morning that the Republican Party is moving too far to the right). In fact, one of the reasons he chose not to run for president in 1996 was because he was never certain that -- regardless of his popularity with the American public -- he could garner enough support from the conservative base to make it through the primary process.

I also think that he's been a good leader because he's been able to support AND oppose policies of all three presidents under whom he has served (George H. W. Bush, Clinton, and the current President Bush). And because of the approach he has taken to decisions throughout his career, I definitely don't think that his support of Obama came without much careful consideration (and not purely as a "revenge" factor, as some are already proclaiming).

If Obama wins the election on November 4, and if (hypothetically) he were to ask me for my opinion on next steps, my first recommendation would be that he nominate Secretary Powell to return to the State Department. While only a member of the Bush cabinet for four years, his time there and his distinguished military career are among the reasons why he is still held in such high regard overseas. Part of the reason he only served four years at State was because he had a strong difference of opinion with the administration on many foreign policy issues -- and I disagreed then as I do now with the request that he move on because any effective president should have cabinet officers who can disagree and argue the opposite side of an issue. A cabinet full of "yes men/women" is not an effective cabinet, and I strongly suspect that Powell would bring that same level of healthy skepticism to the next administration.

So am I disappointed in Powell's announcement? Perhaps. Am I disappointed in Powell? Absolutely not. If anything, I'm now anxious to see what role this man that I admire so much will play for the next president, be it McCain or Obama.