The American Hunger Games

The American Hunger Games

BENEDICTION

GOD, I'M AFRAID TO STEP OUTSIDE TODAY.
I'M AFRAID SOMEONE MIGHT WHISK ME AWAY, NOT FOR THE WAY I LOOK, BUT FOR THE WAY I THINK.
I'M NOT SURE TO TRUST ANYONE, OR DISAGREE. EVERYONE'S GOT A GUN.
PLANNED PARENTHOOD, WHO HELP YOUNG WOMEN WITH HARD CHOICES.
YOUNG ADULTS ATTENDING A CONCERT IN PARIS. PEOPLE EATING IN A STREET CORNER CAFE.
A YOUNG BLACK TEEN, SHOT FIFTEEN TIMES FOR STANDING TALL.
PEOPLE CUT DOWN IN MALLS, AT WORK, ON THE STREET CORNER.
DRONES, INDISCRIMINATELY KILLING THE YOUNG, OLD, ANYONE.
MY HEART IS BROKEN AND MY FEET ARE HEAVY.
I AM LOOKING TO YOU FOR RELIEF.
I CAN'T STAND THE PAIN, IT'S BURNING HOLES IN MY SHOES.
AMEN

SUNDAY MORNING HYMN: Amos Lee & Jerry Douglas, A Change is Gonna Come

SUNDAY MORNING PRAYER-DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES

Last night as I lay sleeping,
   I had a dream so fair...
   I dreamed of the Holy City, well ordered and just.
   I dreamed of a garden of paradise,
       well-being all around and a good water supply.
   I dreamed of disarmament and forgiveness,
       and caring embrace for all those in need.
   I dreamed of a coming time when death is no more.

Last night as I lay sleeping...
   I had a nightmare of sins unforgiven.
   I had a nightmare of land mines still exploding
            and maimed children.
   I had a nightmare of the poor left unloved,
                                of the homeless left unnoticed,
                                of the dead left ungrieved.
   I had a nightmare of quarrels and rages
             and wars great and small.

When I awoke, I found you still to be God,
   presiding over the day and the night
      with serene sovereignty,
   for dark and light are both alike to you.

At the break of day we submit to you
   our best dreams
   and our worst nightmares,
 asking that your healing mercy should override threats,
    that your goodness will make our
          nightmares less toxic
          and our dreams more real.

Thank you for visiting us with newness
     that overrides what is old and deathly among us.
Come among us this day; dream us toward
     health and peace,
we pray in the real name of Jesus
     who exposes our fantasies.

Walter Brueggemann

SUNDAY MORNING SERMON: Rev. Billy: Blessed Are You Who Rise From Your Chairs and Face the World

Rev. Billy: Blessed Are You Who Rise From Your Chairs and Face the World

Big & Rich - That's Why I Pray (Official Music Video)

THANKSGIVING DAY PRAYER

Creator, open our hearts to peace and healing between all people.

        Creator, open our hearts
to provide and protect for all children of the earth.

         Creator, open our hearts
to respect for the earth, and all the gifts of the earth.

         Creator, open our hearts
to end exclusion, violence, and fear among all.

Thank you for the gifts of this day and every day.

                                               AMEN

I CAME BACK HAUNTED

What’s it like to almost die?  I was 52. Heart attack. The heart surgery wasn’t bad, but the sternal staph infection that followed was. They told me later that one in two people die. I was the lucky, unlucky one. Another surgery. Having to open my chest a second time in 10 weeks. A medically induced coma they called it, leaving my chest open so they could continue to clean out the staph. They released me out of this alternative world on the eighth day. After a 105 degree fever, they were hoping I still had some functioning brain cells. Everyone was relieved when I spoke. The first thing I asked after they removed a tube from my throat was how the operation went? My wife had to tell me it was eight days later. It is an odd feeling, missing eight days. A new meaning for the words, “time flies.” The second thing I asked for was a drink of water. As it worked out, Holy Water, because I thought I had seen Christ. Just my luck, no beautiful angel, like Roma Downey, from the TV series, “Touched by an Angel”. My Christ was a carnie, operating a ride at a carnival. It seemed almost like a VCR that he injected me into. I got in willingly. It took me on a ride up and down, something like a roller coaster, or bobsled run, bright lights flashing as I sped faster and faster, going so fast, everything seemed to blend together like a smudged rainbow, perhaps from the tears of my wife, daughter, and son, dripping tears onto my life that was dimming. It is always harder for the family. They are dealing with things exterior, while you are struggling with things interior. I arrived back at the start. The carnie, whom I recognized as Christ, asked me if I was ready. I understood him to mean ready to move on. I heard my wife yell “don’t go”. She was standing behind my left shoulder. I must have said no. Anyway, I’m still here. But I came back haunted.

'Clear Flouting of Roe v. Wade': Court Strikes Down Anti-Choice Bill in Wisconsin

'Clear Flouting of Roe v. Wade': Court Strikes Down Anti-Choice Bill in Wisconsin



MORE CRAP OUT OF THE GOVERNOR OF WISCONSIN.  WE SPEND A LOT OF TIME CORRECTING THE STUPIDITY OF RIGHT-WING REPUBLICANS. IF ONLY WE COULD CONCENTRATE ON THE MEANINGFUL THINGS, AND LET THESE PEOPLE DISAPPEAR INTO THE NIGHT.

PEEVER LAW #11

CAPITALISM HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH DEMOCRACY AND EVERYTHING TO DO WITH PROFIT AND EXPLOITATION.

What’s Really at Stake at the Paris Climate Conference Now Marches Are Banned

What’s Really at Stake at the Paris Climate Conference Now Marches Are Banned



THEY TAKE FEAR AND USE IT TO THEIR OWN ADVANTAGE. THE PUBLIC SHOULD ALWAYS HAVE THE RIGHT TO PROTEST. TO DO OTHERWISE IS TO LOCK CHAINS ON US. "THE ONLY THING WE HAVE TO FEAR IS NOT FEAR, BUT CAPITALISTS USING FEAR AGAINST US."

PEEVER LAW #26

No matter what your status in life, keep your head up and don't be afraid to tell them to kiss your ass.

Sanders Delivers Speech on Democratic Socialism

Sanders Delivers Speech on Democratic Socialism

I'M IN. 

Former Drone Pilots to Obama: Civilian Killings Driving 'Terrorism, Instability'

Former Drone Pilots to Obama: Civilian Killings Driving 'Terrorism, Instability'



NOW ISN'T THAT SURPRISING. RANDOMLY KILLING THE "ENEMY" IN THE NAME OF PEACE.  AND THE CITIZENS DON'T LIKE IT.

HOW TO CULTIVATE A SPIRITUAL LIFE

• Attend church on an irregular basis.
• Spend more time practicing good, and less time discussing politics.
• Rather than collecting possessions, collect friends.
• Try to understand that you cannot kill yourself to peace, or soothe a grieving heart by revenge.
• Don't believe everything you hear. And likewise, don't believe everything you think.
• It is better to come to faith inwardly rather than outwardly. This is why there is no need for missionaries.
• If you think your God is bigger than the rest, wait until you see the condom I bought you.
• Religion is not meant to prove anything. It is meant to fill in the void. The mystery will always remain.
• We are each fashioned after the Divine, which I translate to mean we each have a touch of God in us. We should treat one another accordingly.

THE RED CUP OF XMAS

I am interested, more disgusted, by the recent outcry of evangelical Christians worried about the holiday  coffee cup Starbucks created. You would think Christians have more important things to think about. I wrote the following this a.m. thinking about the whole issue, while having my morning cup of coffee out of a Starbucks red cup.

THE RED CUP OF CHRISTMAS

I had a cup of coffee this morning. My usual schedule.  More like a habit. Actually, an addiction. Today I have a new cup. Red. No “Merry Christmas” written on it. No “Joy to the World.” No snowflakes or Christmas trees. I worry: Is this something I should be doing? Drinking from such a heathen cup? I am, after all, a seminary student. There is a lot of fussing going around, particularly in the social media, that Starbucks is involved in some kind of evil plot to take Christ out of Christmas. It all started with a post on Facebook from Joshua Feuerstein, a self-described evangelist. Now I have to worry, am I a part of this evil?

My daughter recently sent me the new Starbucks cup for an early Christmas present. She couldn’t resist. She works at Starbucks. It’s all red, rather than the usual white, with the Starbucks logo on it. Doesn’t seem to be a big deal. This is their usual cup that you get with any coffee order, only it’s red for the Xmas season.  Actually, I probably should not have abbreviated Christmas, since that might suggest I’m trying to take Christ out of Christmas, which doesn’t seem possible. That seems to be the whole point of Christmas, however you spell it, or don’t spell it. A lot of people think their faith is under assault because of such a negligent act by Starbucks.  I don’t think these people have enough to do. They should go downtown and hand out sandwiches to the homeless. Maybe put all their money in the Salvation Army bucket. Or sit down and write a message to President Obama to quit killing people with drones. Or please close the prison in Guantanamo, holding people, some for over fifteen years, who deserve a day in court. How about an editorial condemning everyone carrying guns? I see an article in the paper every night describing  shootings. Today it’s Paris. Christ was interested in a lot of things, none of them having to do with a red cup. Or at least, not in my bible.

I enjoy a cup of coffee in the morning. Some people say it’s good for you, others say it’s not. Now I have to worry about the cup I drink it from. There is no escape from the stress righteous living demands.  Frankly, I don’t care if it says, “Worst person alive,” or “You’re full of bull----,” so long as it’s full of coffee. Coffee, by the way, probably picked by workers who are being exploited for their cheap labor. But hey, I’m more worried at the moment about this cup than the contents.

Sitting here, looking out the window, the day is beautiful. The grass is still green; the birds are eating out of the feeder; leaves completely cover the ground, waiting to be racked.  And one in four children will go to bed hungry tonight here in Arkansas. Most of them won’t get anything for Christmas. Not even a  simple plain old red cup.

BAD NEWS

 Fall is about used up. It happens every year. It’s like life. It goes along following a prescribed course, never wavering, but with a different story line for each of us, through the good and the bad, right up to that last sweet breathe. It always ends the same. The seasons and life, intertwined together in an intimate dance. I had some tarragon planted in a pot that needed to go into the garage. After all, winter is coming. That’s when I saw it. A menacing looking little devil.  A yellow- lime color, like pistachio pudding, but without the pistachios. Lime Jell-O wouldn’t work to describe it. You can’t see through it, and I doubt it would giggle. While not a very imposing little thing, it shines in that faded yellow-lime color, like it could glow in the dark. Like it belongs in the dark. It burrows down into the soil, some of its flesh falling off to the side, reminding me of a Halloween scene with the faces of Zombies peeling off. Not to say that I’ve ever seen one in real life. Only movies.  Make-believe. The body of this hideous thing gleams clear and bright enough to see yourself in, about 3 inches high, getting thicker towards the bottom, with a ring about a quarter of an inch down from the top. The head reminds me of a Chinese hat, sitting on top of a pudgy body.  I have no idea why, maybe an old cartoon. They didn’t worry about being “politically correct” back then. The base seems to go deep into the pot, almost to the bottom, but not quite. The pot is terracotta, clay red with a bright red band around the top. That bright band was put there for a purpose.  That thing is not going to get out of that pot, thank God. I don’t think it likes the brightness. My thoughts catch me off guard: What if you were to ingest this thing? The mind can play funny tricks on you. Right when you think you got everything together, you drift off into some primordial muck that is stuck in your past. A mushroom I once ingested made me see music and I could smell color. It would have been a frightening experience, if it were not for the shaman I was with. He helped smooth over the edges. This thing makes it look like you would regret the stupidity involved in trying to find nirvana in a mushroom. This thing looks like bad news.

Flying in a six-seat Cessna at 5,000 feet on a clear night can be an exhilarating experience. What a

sense of freedom and escape. Looking at all the lit-up towns is truly fascinating. Small patches of 50, 100, 5,000 lights. Single lights off in an isolated nowhere. Imagine, under all those lights, the stories: fathers struggling to teach their sons how to be a good man; a wife wondering why she married an abusive husband; daughters yet to be married; careers yet to be realized, others cut short by untimely circumstances. Births, deaths, town heroes, town whores, lovers of life, killers of hope. Things beautiful and thoughts ugly flood into my mind.  The plane turns dark, except for the lights below and the millions of stars above.  Stars all over the place. The constellations look like they are alive. The Milky Way, pouring out its miracle elixir. Orion, ready to do battle with evil. The North Star, about to get a job. It will need to guide us home.  The regulator on the plane is out. The instrument panel is black. There is no way to know if the landing gear went down or not.  It was a pity such a beautiful night ends with such bad news.

Stormtroopers For the Empire

Stormtroopers For the Empire

THE OTHER SIDE OF VETERANS DAY

This is not meant to be a slight on any man or woman who chooses to serve in the military. It is only meant to show the other side of the story, as told by me.

GOD’S GRACE

God’s grace shows up in the most unlikely of places. We should always be prepared, especially when

God is involved. Still, it can be a bit disorienting when it happens.  On a fall day, in 1972, in downtown Chicago, at the Everett Dirksen Courthouse, on Dearborn Avenue, God’s grace made an unusual appearance.  But I get ahead of myself.

My wife and I were married on March 6, 1971. We immediately moved to Bethany Theological

Seminary, in Oak Brook, Illinois. I went to seminary for two reasons. I wanted to be a minister, primarily to save the world, and I wanted a 4D classification from my local draft board. A seminary student was exempt from the draft. Somewhere, deep inside, hidden in a corner of my heart that I was unfamiliar with, a conviction, or fear, was taking up residence.  I was beginning to realize I could not kill another human being. I do not know where that feeling came from. Not from my parents. My father was a WWII veteran and a member of the local American Legion. The church we attended had deemed the war as just. The community my wife and I grew up in demanded that one put in your time. Still, it was there, hidden away, dormant, nagging, keeping me awake at night, keeping me busy during the day protesting the war. Then, I read an article about Dr. Dale Brown, professor at Bethany. He was a leading authority on pacifism and nonviolence. The direction was clear: I would attend Bethany and learn what I could about becoming a pacifist and conscientious objector, under the guidance of Dr. Brown, who became generous with his time and helped me prepare for a hearing with my local draft board. I was denied at my first hearing. I appealed and was given another hearing. At my second hearings with the draft board, I was tested to see how my pacifism would hold up. Someone in Washington must have sent out questions that the local boards should ask would-be pacifists. It actually became something of a classic. One of the members asked what I would do if I found someone raping my wife.  I had to think about that for a few minutes. The silence unnerved them. I finally answered that I would not push my conviction quite that far. I’m not sure if my answer was good or bad, but they granted me conscientious objector status. It was some years later that one of the board members, whom I did not know was an acquaintance of my deceased father, told me that I was the only person granted CO status that he could recall. He did not elaborate.  And I didn’t mention that silly question.

At the same time I was attempting to become a CO, another student was giving up his status. Doug had moved from just objecting to being involved with war, to not wanting to participate in the conscription system at all. A letter describing his new position, and his torn draft card, were mailed to his local board. This resulted in him being arrested for non-compliance with the draft, a federal offense, and he was scheduled for trial.

Fifteen of us loaded into the seminary van and went to the trial in downtown Chicago. It was a cold fall day, dreary, a little damp, one of those lonely fall days that sticks to your bones. The courthouse is quite spectacular. It was designed by architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in 1964. It stands there, thirty glass stories tall, staring at you, each window reflecting you like an eye, a primitive insect warning against coming too close. Soon, inside this stately, orderly  building, a judge wearing a black robe will be convicting a good man for refusing to kill anyone, or be involved in a system that sanctions that killing. It seemed about as cruel as the weather, which was getting worse.

It would be a bench trail. There would be no need for a jury. It was all cut and dried. Doug’s position was clear and simple as any case could be. He was defying the federal government. He was breaking the selective service system laws that had been put into place in 1940. From 1964-1973, about three and one-half million young men between the ages of 18-25 were sent to Southeast Asia. Another 16 million were either deferred, exempt, or disqualified from the draft. According to the Selective Service System, a conscientious objector was “one who is opposed to serving in the armed forces and/or bearing arms on the grounds of moral or religious principles.” The objector could agree to enter the military, but refuse to carry arms, in which case they would be placed into noncombatant service. Or the objector could do “alternate service” in a job “deemed to make a meaningful contribution to the maintenance of the national health, safety, and interest.” Doug was going to do none of these.  He was guilty of noncompliance, by his own admission and action. We would probably be taking a dreary ride back to Bethany.  Doug may or may not be with us.

We filed into the courtroom. The room reflected the powers that designed it. The judge up front, in

charge.  The bailiff by his side, the muscle. The prosecutor sits below, to the right.  He represents the

people. The defendant is to the left. There was no need for an attorney. This would likely not

take long. The prosecutor and the defendant are separated by as much space as the room allowed,

driving home the fact that this is an adversarial proceeding. To the rear, the gallery, those interested in

what will happen.  I suppose a lot of life is played out like this. Things designed to let you know where you stand. The room was not very big, adding to the uncomfortable feeling.  The fifteen of us filled it up. There were a couple of other people, maybe relatives, I’m not sure. I do not remember meeting anyone else, but it was all about to become pretty confusing.

The prosecutor had no witnesses. He laid out the case in detail, reading from various documents that

told of the selective service laws and penalties for violating them. The maximum sentence was five years and a $10,000 fine. It was all right there, in black and white. It was plain and simple. He wasn’t going to have to do much to find that guilty verdict he was looking for. There was only one witness for the defendant,  Dr. Dale Brown. It had been determined that Doug would not testify on his own behalf. This was in keeping with his conviction to not participate in a system that would try a person for their unwillingness to kill and be a part of the military system, including the courts demand on him to comply.  

Dr. Brown would have to paint some gray between the black and white. He talked for probably thirty

minutes. He spoke eloquently about the history of the Brethren being pacifists and conscientious

objectors. He evoked the names of Bonhoeffer, Gandhi, Penn, St. Francis, and Christ.  By the time he got to Christ, the courtroom  was dead silent. You could hear everyone breath in, breath out, like a silent meditation.  “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the sons of God,” was the mantra. He held everyone spellbound.  He told of all religions emphasizing the good, peace, and a nonviolent resolution to our differences.  His words were soothing, comforting, giving hope that this would somehow work out. Power became a very gentle thing that day.

The judge appeared attentive, but I was worried that he was not very interested. Having heard both

sides, the judge said he would retire to his chamber to consider the verdict. Generally, you would

consider that a good sign. We figured it was probably unnecessary, more likely a chance for him to go to the bathroom or grab a bite to eat. We talked among ourselves, trying to be positive, supportive,

realizing we were waiting for the inevitable.  Doug was okay with how it had gone. He appeared

resigned to his fate. Outside, the wind continued to blow and the sky grew darker.

The judge returned in about an hour. He asked the defendant to stand. Dr. Brown stood with him. The

fifteen of us also stood up, slowly and hesitantly, not wanting to, but knowing we were probably

breaking protocol. We were all going to be guilty of the same crime: refusing to take another life.

In an instant, I discovered why the judge looked more human.  “I find the defendant innocent.”

Innocent.  I played over in my mind all the words that mean innocent: guiltless, cleared, blameless,

acquitted.  None of them seemed to fit. Surely, that is not what he meant.  I must have misheard him.

Innocent/guilty, it’s hard to confuse the two. Doug had admitted his guilt. It was purposeful. He had

done it intentionally. He wasn’t trying to weasel out of this. He was prepared to suffer the punishment. We all were.

You could hear a pin drop. No one said a word for what seemed like hours. No one could form words;

they seemed inappropriate. Everyone was crying, sobbing, hugging the person next to them, fighting for some way to make sense of what had just happened. Out of this joyous, thankful, once dreaded but now glorious moment, someone started singing the doxology: “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.” We all tried to sing as best we could, still crying and sobbing like newborn babies. “Praise him all creatures here below.” Praise us. Praise Doug for standing up for what he knew was right. Praise everything about this day, which is a miracle. “Praise him about, ye heavenly host.” I translated to “Praise God for all that love has done.” Where did “innocent” come from? How, in a place so filled with law and order, could something so gracious and unpredictable happen? “Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.”

The judge came down from the bench, took off his robe, and shook all our hands. You could tell he was rattled. He was caught between being happy and doing what he was required to do, which was follow the letter of the law. He was shaking slightly, and his eyes were misty, making a dignified attempt not to cry. I still don’t know what happened that day. I do not know if he was ever reprimanded for his verdict. He was probably given a hard time by his colleagues, at the very least. I cannot explain what happened in any logical way. I’ve tried for forty-three years. Sometimes, just at the right moment, when everything comes together in the universe, just then, I believe the synchronicity allows God to intervene. On that day, God’s grace prevailed over man’s laws.

Snowden Celebrates 'Broadly Influential' Ruling Against NSA Dragnet

Snowden Celebrates 'Broadly Influential' Ruling Against NSA Dragnet



THE GOVERNMENT WILL NOT PAY ATTENTION TO THIS. THE MILITARY-INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX IS OUT OF CONTROL. ONLY THE CITIZENS CAN CORRECT IT.

PEEVER LAW #31

YES OR NO ARE PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE ANSWERS TO MOST QUESTIONS.

BENEDICTION

AND SO, ANOTHER WEEK ENDS.
IT DOESN'T SEEM TO HAVE CHANGED VERY MUCH,
BUT IT HAS.
JUST NOT THE WAY I WOULD HAVE HOPED.
ANOTHER LESSON.

SUNDAY MORNING HYMN: Lou Reed - Busload of Faith - with Buddy Guy and James Cotton - From Dig...

SUNDAY MORNING SERMON: "Racism Isn't Funny": Trump's SNL Gig Draws Outrage, Calls to Disrupt Show

"Racism Isn't Funny": Trump's SNL Gig Draws Outrage, Calls to Disrupt Show



BOYCOTTING SNL. OF COURSE, HAVEN'T WATCHED IT IN 20 YRS. ANYWAY. 

MEMOIR TO FATHERS

I think about my father a lot. I suppose one of the reasons is that he died suddenly when I was 18. He was 46. (I played softball against him the night before. Young guys against the old-timers. We young guys won, much to their dismay). Our relationship was close, but at my age, not near complete. I think it is the unfinished business that keeps its presence with me after 49 years. The wondering what our relationship might have developed into? What he would have thought about me? I am much different than he, yet in many subtle ways, the same. Had he lived, he would be 95 now. I have a hard time imagining him at 65, much less 95. Even at 46, I remember him as being "kind of old". He could have lived another lifetime. That would be a lot of time for things to really go good, or really go bad. It's funny to think that death ends a relationship. It doesn't. It only changes it.

Celebrating Sociopaths: When They Install Dick 'Vader' Cheney's Marble Bust In Our Nation's Capitol, Will It Include the Dripping Blood?

Celebrating Sociopaths: When They Install Dick 'Vader' Cheney's Marble Bust In Our Nation's Capitol, Will It Include the Dripping Blood?

LIVING BY THE NUMBER TEN

LIVING BY THE NUMBER TEN

1.       Ten guidelines for living a better life are not near enough. There should be 2,345, most having to do with the rich taking advantage of the poor. And maybe a few about sex. At least one about not being a jerk. 

         

      2.    In the beginning, there were no humans. And it was good. Then God got this brilliant idea:              Why not ruin everything?

                
              3.  I have met an angel. She was a waitress at The Waffle House. Those bright eyes and that infectious smile. She must have been about 23. I heard her tell someone she had two children. I didn’t hear her say anything about a husband. She wants to go to college. Pre-med. I think she can do it. An angel can do anything.

            4. You got to have faith. The question would be: In what? There are plenty of people selling faith nowadays. Faith requires a leap into the unknown, the unprovable. Taking that leap is scary. I take it hesitantly, like when I bunge jumped: I'm worried about the cord, the distance, the bounce, the wind, will insurance pay. Generally speaking, I could use a shove.Faith is a hard thing to keep a grip on.  I find it and lose it, find it and lose it, find it…..

                           5.   Don't believe everything you think. There are 6 billion people in the world, many of whom also think. The path's are many.

6.     Love comes in a variety of flavors, none of them violent.
  
           7. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” is not an armchair slogan meant for the faint of heart. If someone is hungry, she doesn’t need a lecture, she needs food. The homeless don’t need a copy of your ideology, or what religion you subscribe to. They need a place to live.

          8.  Being saved is a whole other number. I could have used saving about 10 times over the years, which may be a conservative estimate. rather than being saved in a hands on kind of way, I thought it wold be enough to just change my behavior. No need for a public display.

9.      I would not recommend getting religion unless you mean to do something good with it.

         10. No one should fear God. I don't think God would want us to fear him or her. There are plenty of things to fear: spiders, snakes, tornadoes, heights, ingrown toe-nails, the IRS, senators who wear sheets, lightening, The dark, maniacs, religious or otherwise. God should not be one of them.

                     11.  No, ten are not near enough. This life is way too complex for such a small number. Too many wrong turns to be had. Have you ever walked down a road where you can’t stand the pain? I should be a better husband or wife. What holds me back? Am I as devoted to being a good father or mother as I am to my career? A better daughter or son. Or is the distance safer. My community needs me. How about next month? When the road gets painful, am I willing to keep stepping forward? Or will it burn holes in my shoes?

QUOTE OF THE DAY

“One of the saddest lessons of history is this: If we’ve been bamboozled long enough, we tend to reject any evidence of the bamboozle. We’re no longer interested in finding out the truth. The bamboozle has captured us. It’s simply too painful to acknowledge, even to ourselves, that we’ve been taken. Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back.”
Carl Sagan, The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark

The Rigging of the American Market

The Rigging of the American Market

SUNDAY MORNING SERMON

LIVING BY THE NUMBER TEN

            1. Ten guidelines for living a better life are not near enough. There should be 5,345, most having to do with the rich taking advantage of the poor. And maybe a few about sex.

         

2.  In the beginning, there were no humans. And it was good. Then God got this brilliant idea: Why     not ruin everything?

                  3. I have met an angel. She was a waitress at The Waffle House. Those bright eyes and that infectious smile. She must have been about 23. I heard her tell someone she had two children. I didn’t hear her say anything about a husband. She wants to go to college. Pre-med. I think she can do it. An angel can do anything.

    4. You got to have faith. The question would be: In what? There are a lot of people selling faith nowadays. Faith requires a leap into the unknown, the unprovable. I take that leap hesitantly, but it doesn’t work that way. I find it and lose it, find it and lose it, find it…..

             5.      Do not believe everyone you hear claiming to know “the truth.” In fact, run the opposite direction as fast as you can.

6.     Love comes in a variety of flavors, none of them violent.

        7.     “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” is not an armchair slogan meant for the faint of heart. If someone is hungry, she doesn’t need a lecture, she needs food. The homeless don’t need a copy of your ideology, or what religion you subscribe to. They need a place to live.

8.   We are our brothers and sisters keepers. It is said if you don’t have compassion, you don’t have a heart. And that’s not good.

          9.   Don’t get religion unless you mean to do something good with it.

10.    No, ten are not near enough. This life is way too complex for such a small number. Too many wrong turns to be had. Have you ever walked down a road where you can’t stand the pain? I should be a better husband or wife. What holds me back? Am I as devoted to being a good father or mother as I am to my career? My community needs me to help. How about next month? When the road gets painful, am I willing to keep stepping forward? Or will it burn holes in my shoes?