My daughter wrote this great piece on her blog. I ask all of my readers to follow this link, read and think about what she has to say:

http://daegansquebecadventure.blogspot.com/

Pandora's Happy Meal

Most people are at least vaguely familiar with the story of Pandora’s Pithos (that is Pandora’s Jar – not Pandora’s Box, as often mistranslated) – an ancient myth that posits yet another misogynist claim regarding the introduction of chaos into the world (remember that apple in the garden? Who takes advice from a talking snake?!?).

But many folks either forget or never learn the most intriguing portion of each of these tales:

·      Before banishing Adam and Eve from the garden, God sat down at the most high holy sewing machine and made garments of hides for them before sending them out into the world (a very tender, poignant moment for the three of them, not so much for whatever animals had skin in the game.)

·      After all the pesky war, famine and pestilence were released, Pandora noticed a crumpled little thing still in the jar: HOPE.

Both of these foundational myths speak tellingly of our human condition. Most of us possess a certain dignity and decency, and, given the opportunity, will do the right thing, given enough information and enough thinking time to make informed, thoughtful decisions.

Key phrase from previous statement: most of us.

This week, a new law goes into effect in San Francisco, requiring any restaurant meal accompanied by a free kids toy to meet certain very basic nutritional requirements. McDonalds immediately snapped into action… charging 10 cents for the crappy little lead-encrusted doodads they place in their Happy Meals. Get it? They are no longer giving away free toys, so they don’t have to change the fat, cholesteral and sodium enriched sludge America’s youth is hoovering up at an ever-increasing rate. HAH!

I wanted to grumble about McDonalds, but I can’t imagine any sentient being on this or any planet who can somehow fail to be aware of what McDonalds “Food®” does to the human body. I mean, just pull your head up out of the trough and check out your fellow diners…

Burger joints marketed to children long before our current obesity epidemic (Willard Scott was the original Ronald McDonald, and I would pay big money for a Foghorn Leghorn or Speedy Gonzalez glass from way back when).

The Garden of Eden and Pandora myths were humanity’s struggle to reason out why some people did nasty , destructive and/or stupid things. The history of civilization since is wrapped up not so much in origins as what to DO about evil already present. Our most reality-based answer to date comes from  Scottish sociologist and educator R.M. MacIver (1882–1970) who posited in 1926 that you can’t legislate morality.  Even the academes eventually can only throw up their hands, put down the chalk and step out for some fresh air.

Let’s extend this now. McDonalds’ San Francisco Two-Step is really nothing more than a cynical reflection of a corollary to Dr. MacIvers bonny truism:

Turns out you can’t legislate wisdom, either.

But slow down now. Don’t get me wrong. I am sick to death of the lunk-headed neo-con scream machine ripping into Mrs. Obama for mounting an effort to fight childhood obesity. We have a looming health crisis that is already threatening to overtake our already massive healthcare crisis that some would choose to simply whistle past in the dark. The first mom is the perfect person to lead by example, especially on an issue that hits so hard in minority and impoverished populations. Even if we decide we are not our brother’s dietician (and remember the original speaker of the original line – humanity’s first murderer), since we are all living in America, we all pay for some people’s bad choices through higher insurance rates, skyrocketing medical costs, over-crowded hospitals and some really wide, slow folks in the grocery store snack aisles.

Mrs. Obama’s is a sane, rational approach, and an appropriate use of her elevated, influential position. With Type II diabetes nearing epidemic status, obesity rates increasing exponentially among our children, and factory farms turning out cheap, cruelly produced, chemical/hormone/bacteria tainted “mcfood,” Pandora’s Happy Meal Box has already been opened.  With McDonalds spending more than $2 billion a year on advertising, the chaos is swirling and winning. What can we do?

Constitutional scholars, libertarians and deep-pocketed corporate sycophants aren’t about to let us impose healthy eating habits on the general public, but we can relentlessly clothe every person within earshot in wisdom on their way to the marketplace (For example, I highly recommend the movies “Super-size Me” and “Food, Inc.” every chance I get.). Four of the people I love most dearly in this world (my wife, daughter, sister and brother) are healthy food evangelists. The rest of us should speak up as well.

We can’t outlaw junk food, but, perhaps, even with so much damage already done, and in the shadow of all that money and corporate influence, we can still scrape Hope up out of the empty Happy Meal box. When you can't legislate, educate.

Understand the Fuss

It was just shy of 20 years ago at a leisurely breakfast table in County Roscommon, Ireland. We had finished our porridge, scrambled eggs and scones after a solid night's sleep at the Bed and Breakfast. The other guests had just departed, some dressed in auto-racing jackets. The room still glowed with the warmth of travel tales, Irish brogues and easy laughter as Teresa and I enjoyed a quiet cup of coffee before we, too, would hit the road. The innkeeper cleared dishes and doted on us.

As we prepared to leave, we complimented our host on her hospitality and the quality of the breakfast conversation we had just enjoyed as the lone Americans among a dozen Irish guests.

"Yes," she said in her marvelous lilt, nodding her head slowly. "They're just like us, aren't they? I don't understand the fuss."

Reading our baffled looks, she explained herself.

"The Northerners, I mean. They're no different than us."

Visiting from the other side of the ocean, we two Yanks hadn't recognized that half the guests had been Catholic Irish, and the other half Protestant Northern Irish. This was a vital distinction to those closer in, but Teresa and I missed the whole conflicted under-current.

I've often reflected on this small treasure of a memory from my particular spot on the tiny, spinning rock all humans call home. I imagine all the vital distinctions dividing our race would be quite imperceptible to any visitor from beyond our  fragile atmosphere. Still, this is the soup inwhich we swim... our reality.

I mention this because we have just passed Veterans' Day. I know some people are quite uncomfortable with this and the Memorial Day holidays. Some believe these observances are turned into a promotion of the military-industrial complex and the glorification of war. The point does have some resonance for me. War is undoubtedly the worst of human innovations: a true mark of abysmal failure in EVERY case.

War is hell.

I heard an interview recently with a soldier who had done multiple tours in Iraq. He, like many, had been placed in a position where he had to kill other human beings. He is certain that he killed several. He said that near the end of his final tour he had started to think before each patrol that he just wanted to make it home, no differently than any person likely to be in his gunsights that day.

That is hell.

I hold other stories, but they aren't mine to share. They came out in hoarse whispers late at night when others had gone to bed, or within concrete walls after staff and family footsteps had long since trailed away down long hallways. They are harrowing memories, and mostly involve what must be done to survive amid unspeakable carnage. Such stories are not welcomed from lofty pulpits or flag-bedecked platforms erected on village greens.

That is hell.

Let's never forget those who go through hell.

It is not lost on me that many who chant "freedom isn't free" are turning a hefty profit waging war. Also, somehow, it is never their sons and daughters shooting and being shot -- nor, typically, the sons and daughters of the elected officials they own. The parting wisdom of President/General Dwight D. Eisenhower should be carved on every forehead in America. He called it, didn't he?

But two days a year I still choose to publicly recognize en masse the horror we have elected to put many of our brothers and sisters through. Phone calls and/or visits are made, too. I don't wrap it in flags and patriotic platitudes. I recognize horror, hardship and sacrifice. Don't even dream of suggesting that's not appropriate.

It is so tragic what we humans put ourselves through.

Scripture and Three Sentences Regarding Troy Davis

Early in the morning he came again to the temple. All the people came to him and he sat down and began to teach them. The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery; and making her stand before all of them, they said to him, ‘Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?’ They said this to test him, so that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, ‘Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.’ And once again he bent down and wrote on the ground. When they heard it, they went away, one by one, beginning with the elders; and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. Jesus straightened up and said to her, ‘Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?’ She said, ‘No one, sir.’ And Jesus said, ‘Neither do I condemn you. Go your way, and from now on do not sin again.’ – John 8:1-11

We tie ourselves in knots debating issues about which Jesus was silent, yet some of us Christians have no problem defying Jesus when he spoke quite clearly and specifically on an issue.

Followers of Christ do not execute criminals, even when they are guilty of that which one thousand years of law says is a capital offense. Or is the teaching of Jesus no longer valid?

Remember. Reflect. Revive.

We humans almost always have five fingers on each of two hands. As a result, base ten is the numeral system chosen by most modern civilizations (Chinese, Roman, Brahmi-Hindu, and our own adopted Arabic, for example). We are therefore accustomed to assigning significance to groupings in multiples of five and ten. We are culturally – indeed, biologically – predisposed to see a 10^th anniversary as more significant than a seventh or 11^th for no other reason beyond our anatomy. Biology then dictates that this year is a particular time to look back and reflect on an historic, shocking series of events and their aftermath. So be it.

As a pastor, it is sometimes my job to prayerfully reflect and comment on things plaguing us en masse spiritually and psychologically… even physically. This is the case for the 10^th anniversary of the 9-11 attacks. I felt I couldn’t do so with integrity without first re-opening the wound and reliving the horror of that day. I have just spent the past hour watching the twin towers get hit, listening to 911 and airline dispatch recordings of the last moments of some who would perish that tragic day, the FAA recordings of calls between air-traffic controllers, airline and government officials, and Betty Ong (a brave, frightened stewardess on American Flight 11), and the still-tearful remembrances of a young man who was in his first days of kindergarten the day he lost his grandpa, and a father who lost two sons: a firefighter and a cop.

My initial reaction are as follows:

POLITICAL

1. 
   

•  To all my progressive friends: Watch footage of people hanging out of the burning WTC and jumping to their deaths, then tell me if it is appropriate to label tea-party activists and their representatives terrorists, even as a “rhetorical device.”
• To all my conservative friends: Listen to Mohammad Atta’s cold, condescending voice from the cockpit of American Flight 11, and then tell me if even the most obnoxious liberals really hate America.

With much of our initial response in the hands of ordinary citizens, fear, hubris, violence and bureaucratic ineptitude did not rule the day on September 11, 2001, Neither should they now. It’s all bread and circuses, my friends, in combination with Orwellian reports of double-plus-ungood happenings on all the faceless fronts around the world. Our whole political system and our major media are fueled by fear and hubris. Figures, since they’re both owned and operated by the same lot.

But please don’t accuse me of government bashing, as a good number of those who died that day ten fingers ago were government employees. Their actions were self-less, expert and performed without flinching. God bless the Civil Servants! It's all over without them.

HUMANITARIAN

Because we have five fingers on each of two hands, a broadcasting corporation recently thought it would be a good idea to ask Afghanis for their thoughts on the approaching 10^th anniversary of the September 11^th attacks. To their shock, they found that 90% of Aghan citizens apparently had no knowledge of the attacks, and, when shown footage of the fiery WTC collapse, many mistakenly guessed it was happening in Kabul. In other words, the list of innocent victims of 9-11 continues to grow by the tens of thousands. On this, our 10-finger anniversary of 3000 innocent deaths, why do we not feel the same or even greater horror when we consider the six-figure-and-counting death toll of innocent Iraqis, Afghanis and Pakistanis killed through our ongoing massive, sledge-hammer response to 9-11?

If that question angers you, try to think of these people as human beings, not simply foreigners (they aren't, as they are in their own countries) or “collateral damage” (relegating their right to life as inferior to our "security and strategic interests"). Our representative democracy has visited hell on millions of innocent human beings. We are accountable.

RELIGIOUS

Crackpots will use any tool they can find to wreak their havoc.  I sure do wish they’d leave off religion for a while. Our churches, synagogues, temples and mosques are frequented mostly by people with good heads on their shoulders and the best of intentions in their hearts. Sadly, that in turn attracts both the desperately mindless, and the nasty people with anti-christ complexes, too. A few of the nasties are adept at attracting the gullible and desperate, pushing buttons and tripping wires, leading to the carnage-inducing freak-parade we have suffered through these past few thousand years. God weeps.

“Remember. Reflect. Revive.” Is the theme of our church’s Rally Day program this Sunday. We will be following these three Rs for a lot more than the ten-finger anniversary of a brutal terrorist attack. We will also be remembering

• ·      our duty to cultivate and educate our minds as we confirm several youths into our church,
• ·      our gifts from God when we sing a ridiculous number of wonderful songs on Sunday, including my personal favorite hymn of national life: O God of Every Nation,
• ·      our obligation to seek and embrace the hard, unvarnished truth when we preach, teach and converse about these issues,
• ·      our responsibility as compassionate Christians when we send our folks out into the world to love it back into shape.

You’re welcome to join us if you find yourself in the area Sunday morning. Beyond that, I would suggest the best antidote to violent zealotry is to pick up and read the holy books for yourself. Even better, find some other folks and look through them together.

As always, I invite your feedback on this post. In this case, I’d like to focus it a bit with two simple questions:

Where were you as 9-11 unfolded?

Where are you now as a result?

When Compromise is Compromised

How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity! 
It is like the precious oil on the head, running down upon the beard,
on the beard of Aaron, running down over the collar of his robes. 
It is like the dew of Hermon, which falls on the mountains of Zion.
For there the Lord ordained his blessing, life for evermore. -- Psalm 133


I've been sitting for a few days on an e-mail chain letter sent to me by a beloved relative. The thing is dripping with muddled thinking, wild diatribe, and delusion. But I've sat on it. Maybe this relative reads my blog. I don't know. Not sure what to do, so I'll follow my usual mantra in such confounding, hair-triggering moments: "Don't just DO something, STAND THERE." Pause. Breathe deeply. Think it through.


I am deeply concerned for my country. This liberal-conservative wrestling match is refereed, broadcast and performed much like a WWE match: the two sides pound their chests and scream death and destruction down on the "evil" other side and will stoop ever lower to gouge, thump and kick their way to victory; the "journalists" are little more than hucksters promoting the fight with breathless credulity and fire-breathing graphics; and the referees conveniently have their heads turned as the rules are broken... if they agree to enforce any rules at all. Is there even a rule book anymore?!?


Worse, I've come to believe the bulk of our electorate is addicted to this match-play mindset, with our no-fall, 20-minute time limit attention span. 


Little or nothing constructive can be accomplished in such a circus environment. Thoughtful analysis and careful consideration are drowned out by the carnival barkers whose sole task is to grab attention and keep the money flowing from every passing suckers' pocket into their tills.


If we ever stop the three active wars we are currently waging overseas, we'll find that the real battle is an uncivil war of such magnitude and ferocity that it has swallowed up our political system, most of our media and the daily head-space of almost every voting American. 


I was happy to hear these words from President Obama at yesterday's press conference:



"My experience with John Boehner has been good. I think he's a good man who wants to do right by the country.  I think that it's a -- as Chip alluded to, the politics that swept him into the speakership were good for a midterm election; they're tough for governing.  And part of what the Republican caucus generally needs to recognize is that American democracy works when people listen to each other, we're willing to give each other the benefit of the doubt, we assume the patriotism and good intentions of the other side, and we're willing to make some sensible compromises to solve big problems.  And I think that there are members of that caucus who haven't fully arrived at that realization yet."
GEORGE CONDON:    So your confidence in him wasn't shaken by him walking away from the big deal he said he wanted?
THE PRESIDENT: "These things are a tough process.  And, look, in fairness, a big deal would require a lot of work on the part of Harry Reid and Nancy Pelosi and myself to bring Democrats along.  But the point is, is if everybody gets in the boat at the same time, it doesn't tip over.  I think that was Bob Dole's famous comment after striking a deal with the President and Mr. Gingrich back in the '90s.  And that is always the case when it comes to difficult but important tasks like this."


With everyone addicted to incendiaries and head-slams into turnbuckles, what can compromise possibly bring? We first need to ratchet down the bloodsport, ratchet up the level of discourse, and gain a clear grasp of what exactly is going on. THEN we find our path of action. The first step to reasonable compromise is REASON, which is so lacking at the moment. Without it, our ability to compromise is compromised.

Of Androids, the Good Shepherd and the 4th of July

MATTHEW 11:  Now when Jesus had finished instructing his twelve disciples, he went on from there to teach and proclaim his message in their cities.

 When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, ‘Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?’ Jesus answered them, ‘Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offence at me.’

 As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: ‘What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written,
“See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,
   who will prepare your way before you.” 
Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force. For all the prophets and the law prophesied until John came; and if you are willing to accept it, he is Elijah who is to come. Let anyone with ears listen!

 ‘But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the market-places and calling to one another, 
“We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
   we wailed, and you did not mourn.” 
For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, “He has a demon”; the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, “Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax-collectors and sinners!” Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.’

 Then he began to reproach the cities in which most of his deeds of power had been done, because they did not repent. ‘Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the deeds of power done in you had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. But I tell you, on the day of judgement it will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon than for you. And you, Capernaum,
will you be exalted to heaven?
   No, you will be brought down to Hades.
For if the deeds of power done in you had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day. But I tell you that on the day of judgement it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom than for you.’

 At that time Jesus said, ‘I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.

 ‘Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.’

(Forgive me for including an entire chapter of Matthew for this post. It is just that there is so much here, and it is all too vital – especially in these conflicted times – to leave anything out.)

I just finished watching again for the first time in years the Ridley Scott 1982 cult classic Blade Runner, based on the novel Of Androids and Electric Sheep. It is an amazing movie. I assume most of you know it, but I’ll recap for the uninitiated:

Harrison Ford is a former cop and “blade runner” in 2019. His job is to terminate renegade android slaves. He is pulled back in to hunt down a group of particularly nasty ”replicants.” These creatures were implanted with a lifetime of false memories, but were programmed to wear out (that is, "die") after only four years. The renegade replicants have returned to find their maker and to ask to be modified to live longer. By midway through the movie, you realize the androids feel as much or more than the humans, and the climactic scene – the final conflict between the chief android (played by Rutger Hauer) and Harrison Ford’s bounty hunter – blurs the lines between US and THEM so completely as to leave the viewer befuddled as to the desired outcome. So strong is the gradually built identification with OTHER, and the recognition of the innate drive to survive, love and thrive.

 

It seems to me that much of the spirit of this movie could have been lifted directly from the 11^th chapter of Matthew. No, seriously:

·       Jesus comes to a broken, violent and confusing world and teaches all who would listen to value life above all else, and to define more loosely and think and see more broadly in welcome of the other.

·       John the Baptist, in prison and soon to be executed, has a moment of doubt about his cousin and asks through an intermediary if Jesus truly is the messiah or if they should wait for another.

·       Jesus’ proof of his messiah-ship is the degree to which he has reached out and healed and helped the OTHER in Judea…the blind, lame, leprous, deaf, dead and poor – that is, everyone society would crush or try to forget.

·       Jesus goes on to challenge all who would hear: “What are you looking at? What are you looking for? The key to the Kingdom is so obvious and so simple that a child can grasp it. Indeed, only those who can open themselves unselfishly (like a child) will come to the great humble, gentle key to life abundant. The burden of liberty in me is sooooo light!”*

When questioned by John as to his legitimacy, Jesus offers as evidence all he has done for the other: the outcast, down-trodden, ailing and persecuted. He further challenges all who are protectors of the status quo that they are in serious danger of missing the kingdom of heaven.

The ministry and path of Jesus are all about a brash, fearless, even RADICAL openness and love for (indeed, IDENTIFICATION WITH) the other, aren't they? Our faiths and religions should necessarily follow that lead. But we don’t always do that particularly well, do we? Often, our religions and political actions rally around what we aren’t and who we won’t accept. We end up choosing "long-standing tradition" or "strategic interests" over that which represents love and self-determination. In other words, we one day wake up and find that we are on the wrong side of some important event.

July 4^th is the perfect time to bring this up. When we reflect on the promise of the great human experiment in self-governance, it behooves us to realize that our nation is founded on the very Christ-like principle of a far-flung, wildly varied us-tent, not an us and not them fence:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that ALL* men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.

Doesn’t this foundational document clearly state how radically wide open and welcoming America and Americans are supposed to be?

But the most important part of all is not that famous quote from the second paragraph, but the last sentence of the document:

“…with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor.”

That’s right, every participant in the American experiment has thrown his/her lot in with the rest. We each pledge our lives, resources and sacred honor to the happiness, liberty and well being of every other American!!

Neither Christianity nor democracy are exclusionary, but EXUBERANT. Neither Christianity nor democracy are museum-grade pure, but five-second-rule PICNIC. We all want more life, and life abundant. We should all help each other get there, regardless.

May our lines of demarcation be evermore blurred. May our political leanings be ever harder to pin down. May we learn to pity piety and go wild with wideness. Wouldn’t that be marvelously human, gloriously American, and wonderfully Christian of us?

Rugged Communalists Unite!

So, if they say to you, “Look! He is in the wilderness”, do not go out. If they say, “Look! He is in the inner rooms”, do not believe it. -- Matthew 24:26


Call it a preview of Sunday's sermon, I'm focusing a lot these days on the tension between individual and communal impulses in our world and, especially, our religions.

It all started with NPR, of course. The world would be a much better place if we all spent half an hour or so every day digging through their various reports and wild hairs. Here's what got me started:

NPR: Is the end nigh? We'll know soon enough.

This is Harold Camping, an 89 year-old preacher who – since the world didn’t end on September 6, 1994, as he originally predicted – has come to the irrefutable conclusion that a series of devastating earthquakes will spell rapture and the end of the world on May 21 at 6 p.m… That’s right, one week from Saturday, as I write this. Be sure and make it an early dinner that night.

Harold has ambled along in this belief for some time, broadcasting it on his Family Radio program. It has led a handful of folks to quit their jobs, cash in their 401(k)s, get divorced from sceptical spouses (ya think?!?), and take to the streets to hand out tracts and preach the rapture to all who would hear.

You and I know there have been plenty of doomsday-ers through the millennia. Fervent crackpots, we consider them. Some are harmless, others much worse. But each of them must be at least somewhat aware of the poor track record of End-of-the-World types (even Jesus is quoted as saying HE hadn’t a clue when it would happen – and that’s the Gospel truth).

But here’s the thing: At some point in the next million years or so, one of these guys and gals is going to trip into perfect timing: the asteroid will hit, the sun will go szzztz, the earth will crack like an egg, or some other random or human-instigated calamity will send us off our orbit, and, just before our vital organs and/or bionic/android parts are vaporized in the cold, dark vacuum of space, that individual may have just enough time to cap human history with the mother of all I-told-you-so’s. Apparently this dark cosmic lottery is an attractive possibility for would-be prophets of destruction. They’re willing to go waaaay out on that limb by themselves and then call a few gullible fools out there with them, each of whom also burns with a need to be right in some spectacular way nobody else can match. This story brought alternating chuckles and groans. I just pray Mr. Camping isn’t next to me saying “I told you so” a week from Saturday just before I go szzztz in the yawning vacuum of space.

So then I check the NPR sidebar and find this story:

the loneliest plant in the world

The story is all about a plant found in Africa in 1895, a male cutting of which was carried to London, where it sat inside for 98 years, only to wake up and find it had been out of circulation for so long, there were no female plants left to date. They believe this one male plant, which dutifully produces pollen and frequents singles’ garden happy hours, is all that is left of E. Woodii. It can be cloned, but only to produce more males, and no female counterpart has been found (and, yes, the article does mention the Ents’ dilemma from Lord of the Rings, so let’s not breathe another Tolkienian word about it… as I am trying to maintain the illusion that I am only a partial dork.)

You can’t help but feel sorry for this guy. He’s out there all alone, with little to no hope of ever settling down with a little Mrs. E. Woodii.  Truly, nobody wants to be that isolated, that special.

I believe it was God – talking to only-God-knows-Who – who said “it is not good that man should be alone.” And who would know better, as we were dreamed up by the Holy One as a solution to Her own solitary non-confinement? We are meant to come together, not break apart.

We are built of the stuff just laying around, fed starlight in one form or another, taught to embrace and apply all the best thoughts thought up so far, and basically tool about the planet that claims us as one of its many little 80-year migratory pimples. The thought of any of us being an individual is rather jaw-dropping, when framed in such a manner.

So, from now on I am going to strive to be a Rugged Communalist. I want to recognize more clearly that I am the product of so much borrowed heat and light. I don’t want to distance myself from the competition, a la Harold Camping. Heck, I don’t want to experience competition in such things. I’d rather just throw it all in the God box, hang on to my wife/kids/friends/job/community/world/semi-sanity, strive to DO right over BE right, and pray never to become the faith equivalent of E. Woodii.

Pausing Bears Fruit...

So I took six weeks off from Facebook and this blog. It was Lent, and I thought it was a good idea to turn my face from the screen for some reflection and growth. It was time well spent.

I love the new reality of online communities, but, for me, it was eating into my personal time and face-to-face relationships. Sure enough, my time away was warmed by the fire of two great Lenten discussion groups at my church, and an explosion of creativity in preparation for my band's 3rd CD. I also had time to see and feel my life in ways I had neglected for some time.

As a pastor, I am profoundly blessed to be invited into many other people's sacred moments. I wonder if my pastor-colleagues have found what I have found -- that many ministerial experiences leave a definite residue which sticks to the mind, heart and soul, and must be processed. These can accumulate over time, and lead to a certain opaqueness in our own lives (blindness, even, if we let things go too long).

For me, one of these was the motorcycle-accident death of a high school classmate, Jeff Broadwell. It is not that Jeff and I were particularly close, but he was an amazing guy, living his life large and out loud. I had last seen him at our 20th reunion, and he was just as full of life and adventure as ever. It pleased me to see that he had grown up, but not old. He had kept the covenants of his youth, expanding on them and finding new thrills and wonders just a few steps beyond where the rest of us stopped and turned around.

At any rate, I found myself writing a song that seemed to pour out of me from somewhere, and afterward I realized it was really about Jeff. I will be posting a demo version of the song on my band's Facebook page pretty soon, and I'm hoping dbdb will soon be performing it. Here are the words, which tell me that Jeff has left something of great value in me, given me an insight I might not otherwise have. I will be asking his parents for permission to dedicate the song to him on the CD.

The Boy Who Wouldn't Come In

It's wild beyond the window,

wide open past the door.

There's so much out inside of me,

and summer’s here once more...

I will not heed your call tonight,

not with summer here again.

I'm eyes to skies and foot to flight,

(call me) the boy who wouldn't come in.

Your distant, pleading siren song

I hear it hasten down the wind

It no longer pulls so strong

Not on the boy who wouldn't come in.

It's summer forever.

It's wild beyond the window,

wide open past the door.

There's so much out inside of me,

and summer’s here once more...

In just one stride I lost the how

of ruler, clock and pen.

Halls and walls mean nothing now

Not to the boy who wouldn't come in.

It’s summer forever.

I hold coyote secrets tight

I dance with ancient kin.

I wave with rye and drink moonlight.

I'm the boy...

I run with untamed mysteries.

I hold no faith in fact.

I'm well past hours or inches now,

and I'm never coming back...

forever.

© 2011 Corey Keyes

I guess I'm just saying to take time to listen to your inner life... I mean right now take a moment. Take a breath. Feel it.

We can get so caught up in surface activities that we forget to occasionally dive deeper... live deeper. 

It's good to be back. Peace to you all.

Rev. Corey Keyes' Big Announcement

Thank you all for coming. I have a brief announcement, then I will field your questions.

I have decided against seeking the nomination to run for President of the United States in 2012. I repeat: I will not seek the presidency in 2012.

Several months of exploration, day after day of fervent prayer, and a six-pack of Labatt’s Blue all went into this decision, which is final. Here are my solemn vowels… the reasons I will not run:

America needs a strong leader, now more than ever: an individual of singular vision, steel-spined determination and bold action.

That ain’t me. It is not uncommon for me to spend ten minutes in the cereal aisle debating the pros and cons of Post versus store brand.  Any “Special Interest” lobbyist, corporate multi-nationalist or international terrorist appearing at the Oval Office door with a cute l’il abandon kitten  would get whatever they want from me, especially if the international terrorist was three feet tall, wore pigtails and spoke with a slight lithp.

Elitism has run rampant in the Oval Office.

And THAT is a very good thing. In the 222 year history of the U.S. Presidency, only 44 men have held the post. The President of the United States is the single most powerful human being on planet earth. Elite is a given. Please, let him/her hold a degree from a university that wouldn’t accept my application for a parking pass. Let him/her speak four languages. May he/she have no idea who Snooki is. Let him/her be smarter, more successful and far more erudite than I could ever hope to be.

Elite I am not, and elite the president must be.

Informed individuals only need apply.

As ashamed as I am to admit it, I get most of my news from NPR, PBS and the BBC, so I spent my morning watching the Network news shows this a.m., just to see how out-of-touch with the American people I have allowed myself to become.

Did you know that someone named Justin Bieber got a haircut?!? People are, like,  all “OH MY GAWD!” He lost 80,000 Twitter followers over it!

And not only that, Charlie Sheen is now dating a mystery blonde with a history in graphic…design?!? And, like, Kate and Prince William are really going just cuh-razy planning their wedding, while perfectly adorable and notoriously mischievous Prince Harry is planning the Bachelor Party?!? And Sarah Palin is all, like, “whateverrrr…” over this book her former BFF is writing about how absolutely SKANK she really is?

I didn’t know these matters of greatest importance to the American people, as NPR, PBS and BBC fritter away my precious time with distracting reports of two American-led wars, revolutionary meltdowns in Northern Africa and the Middle East, national and international economic crises,  renewed labor struggles funded by the Koch brothers, and the role of new media in the spread of democratic ideals, perhaps reducing the influence of Islamic extremism. (Honestly, how ironic that the only way to miss all the coverage of the royal wedding is to watch the BRITISH Broadcasting Corporation?!?)

I’m just too  poorly informed and out of touch with the American people, I guess.

Overactive bladder  Um... 'nuff said? 


Underdog 9 a.m. every Friday morning on the Cartoon Network. Cabinet meetings  and tense, eleventh hour negotiations would have to wait until I knew Sweet Polly Purebread was absolutely safe.

So there you have it in a nutshell. I will not seek the nomination, and, if nominated, I will not run, and, if I run, I will not win, and, if I win, I will not serve, and if I serve, I will not… I think you get the picture.

All this to say, I think I’d make a really poor president. What kind of president would you be? Huh?