Aging!

Let's talk about aging ... I see myself in the mirror and ask, "Who the heck are you, and what did you do with that young man I once knew?"

Aging, the tick of the tock, the tock of the tick, or whatever ... but time moves on ... there's no return ticket on this one.

So, what does a consumer culture do?

It obsessives about aging ... what an industry ... creams and surgery, supplements and yoga, gyms and diets, pills and psychology.

Sure, let's look our best, but something is amok here - aging has become a sin. Yup, that's right, a sin. Something one shouldn't do. And looking old is a shame.

Ok, comb your hair, wear some makeup, wash regularly, and dress well ... but America's obsession with aging is over the top. 

Which reminds me, as to why historic Protestant Churches aren't fairing as well as they once did ... sure, we can blame ourselves for being a bit stodgy, times change, and all that, but on the other hand, our culture, with its obsessions on aging, has grown afraid of some basic truths about life - one is that we age, the other is that we die.

Historic Protestant Churches mostly faced all of this with a degree of honesty, admitting to and accepting of reality. The Bible pushes us hard on this point.

A culture that's increasingly scared to death of death is not likely to seek out reality, a reality that admits to death and at the same time reaches for eternity, as a source of hope, a source of energy for the here and now, even as the here and now is deeply connected to eternity.

So the next time you see an add touting the latest treatments to fight aging, ask yourself some serious questions about time, and how you see it, and what you're afraid of.

Afraid?

Yes, we all are ... period!

It's what it means to be human, to be cognizant of our own own demise, knowing that we're on a plane headed off to the horizons and there's no return ticket in our pocket; it's one way. 

I'm grateful to be a part of an historic Protestant Church tradition. We've failed plenty along the way, but we've also done well. In fact, I'd say, the good outweighs the wrong. Not that we should forget the wrong, or fail to rectify it, but that we have something worth celebrating, and I call it REALITY.

Being real ... with regards to time and life … and in such reality, there is something of the divine. God inhabits our years … each stage of the way … from our first breath to the last.

Aging?

It's a good thing ... look your best, but time will win out - and maybe we can recover what some other cultures still possess - a deep respect for the Elders - those who've seen it all, and done it all, and their accumulated wisdom, peace, courage, and hope.

And, in the end, be able to say, “Here I am LORD. Here I am!”

"The Power Worshippers" by Katherine Stewart

 A remarkable book that needs to be read and re-read many times ... click HERE to see my GoodReads review.

Must I Continue?

Must I continue to argue that a woman’s body is her own?

That a woman has all the rights and dignity pertaining to her humanity, a full and complete humanity, standing on its own in the sunlight of God’s creation and God’s purpose?

Must I continue to argue that men in their pride, men in their ignorance, have no right whatsoever to dictate to the woman the course of her health, her pregnancy, her dignity, her purpose in life?

Must I continue to argue that a woman’s purpose is fully her own? That her purpose in life is to be fully herself, as God’s purpose and God’s love unfolds that purpose for her?

Must I continue to challenge those men, and those women, who claim that a woman’s personhood, her life and purpose, her being, her humanity, is determined solely and singularly by her biology? That a woman, then, needs men around her, above her, to make those decisions that pertain to her biology, that of a being capable of becoming pregnant, and bearing a child? That this element of her being is the only element worthy of her being? Worthy of a man’s determining desire?

Must I continue to challenge the sin of white male christian supremacy? In all of its horrid manifestations and hypocritical posturing? With its Bible in hand, lofty prayers and praise songs, exulting the goodness of God and the joys of heavenly reward?

Must I continue to defend the majesty and sacredness of a woman’s body, her body, her life, her being, her soul, her destiny, as that of her own will and purpose, as she sees fit, as she measures her being, if so inclined, in the light of God’s purpose and being, seems redundant. 

For the independence of being has been thoroughly determined for that of the male species, in theology and philosophy, song and poetry, literature and art. 

So, must I conclude that those men and women who clearly affirm that a woman’s being is determined by her biology, and yet understand the independent nature of the male species, have determined that the female species is less a human being? Less qualified to enjoy the rights and dignity accorded to the male?

While some might say, “only a different human being”? 

I then ask, how different? 

How different is a short man from a tall man; a man who can sing and dance and a man who can’t; a man who loves to paint and another who grows a flower; a man who walks a thousand miles to find a home, and a man who sits by his window dreaming great ideas.

How different we all are … but differences aside, no man would suggest that any of the men so described above would be less than human, less than deserving of the full rights and liberties and responsibilities of the human race.

To deny this for women requires a mental breakdown, a failure of nerve and intelligence, a complete misconstrual of reality, and likely a meanness of spirit, a foulness of soul, a willingness to condemn some to a lesser status of being, because of their “difference.”

Must I continue to engage in this struggle?

Yes, I must … and I will … for those who would take away the rights and dignity of a woman remain determined and full of self-righteousness, a heady mess of bad theology and twisted instincts.

Yes, and so I will … and to anyone reading this note, I encourage you to stand fast, to resist the cult of white male christian supremacy, to resist it for what it is, a script from hell, a deadly idea suitable to preserving the power of some at the expense of many.

If you’re a Christian, I’ll say it, loudly and clearly: white male christian supremacy is NOT the way of Christ … but rather the Tempter in the Wilderness, who offered to Christ the easy way out, appealing to easy answers, and all of them completely wrong.

Finally, whatever your faith may be, your stance on life, the same conclusions are clear in every soul. Those who resist the rights of a woman know they’re wrong, and thus continue their murderous ways by increasing levels of vehemence and vitriol, to cover up the cries of their own soul.

Keep up the good work, dear friends, and do not relent.

We must continue!

Michigan state Senator Mallory McMorrow - April 19, 2022

 Thank you, Mr. President. 

I didn’t expect to wake up yesterday to the news that the senator from the 22nd district [state Senator Lana Theis] had overnight accused me by name of grooming and sexualizing children in an email fundraising for herself. So I sat on it for a while wondering why me.

Then I realized [it’s] because I am the biggest threat to your [Theis’s] hollow hateful scheme, because you can’t claim that you are targeting marginalized kids in the name of quote parental rights if another parent is standing up to say no. 

So then what?

Then you dehumanize and marginalize me. You say that I’m one of them. You say, “She’s a groomer. She supports pedophilia. She wants children to believe that they were responsible for slavery. And to feel bad about themselves because they’re white.” 

Well, here’s a little bit of background about who I really am. 

Growing up, my family was very active in our church. I sang in the choir. My mom taught CCD. One day our priest called a meeting with my mom and told her that she was not living up to the church’s expectations and that she was disappointing. 

My mom asked why. Among other reasons, she was told it was because she was divorced. And because the priest didn’t see her at Mass every Sunday. So where was my mom on Sundays? 

She was at the soup kitchen with me. 

My mom taught me at a very young age that Christianity and faith was about being part of a community, about recognizing our privilege and blessings and doing what we can to be of service to others, especially people who are marginalized, targeted and who had less often unfairly.

I learned this service was far more important than performative nonsense like being seen in the same pew every Sunday, or writing “Christian” in your Twitter bio, and using that as a shield to target and marginalize already marginalized people. 

I also stand on the shoulders of people like Father Ted Hesburgh, the longtime president of the University of Notre Dame, who was active in the civil rights movement, who recognized his power and privilege as a white man, a faith leader and the head of an influential and well-respected institution, and who saw black people in this country being targeted and discriminated against and beaten and [Hesburgh] reached out to lock arms with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. when he was alive when he was unpopular. And marching alongside them to say, “We’ve got you,” to offer protection and service and allyship to try to right the wrongs and fix injustice in the world. 

So who am I? 

I am a straight, white, Christian, married, suburban mom, who knows that the very notion that learning about slavery or redlining or systemic racism somehow means that children are being taught to feel bad or hate themselves because they are white is absolute nonsense.

No child alive today is responsible for slavery. 

No one in this room is responsible for slavery. 

But each and every single one of us bears responsibility for writing the next chapter of history. Each and every single one of us decides what happens next and how we respond to history and the world around us. 

We are not responsible for the past. 

We also cannot change the past. 

We can’t pretend that it didn’t happen or deny people their very right to exist. 

I am a straight, white, Christian, married, suburban mom. I want my daughters to know that she is loved, supported and seen for whoever she comes. I want her to be curious, empathetic, and kind. 

People who are different are not the reason that our roads are in bad shape after decades of disinvestment or that health care costs are too high or the teachers are leaving the profession. 

I want every child in this state to feel seen, heard and supported, not marginalized and targeted because they are not straight, white and Christian. 

We cannot let hateful people tell you otherwise to scapegoat and deflect from the fact that they are not doing anything to fix the real issues that impact people’s lives. 

And I know that hate will only win if people like me stand by and let it happen. 

So I want to be very clear right now. Call me whatever you want. 

I hope you brought in a few dollars. I hope it made you sleep good last night. 

I know who I am. I know what faith and service means and what it calls for in this moment. 

We will not let hate win.

* * * * *

You can watch Senator McMorrow’s speech here. 

A Letter to Senator Sinema

I appreciate your support on voting rights.

But you know, and I know, that denying the opportunity to check the power of the filibuster, voting rights will never pass in the present Senate, because of GOP obstructionism.

You know this to be true, so does America, and so do your Republican colleagues, who thank their lucky stars for you.

So, I beg you to reconsider the filibuster - it's a device devised by those who would use their minority status to stymie the progress and hope of the nation. It's been a tool of the South, and you know that, too. A tool to prevent any reform in civil rights.

The filibuster is a remnant of another age, a worn-out tool that has long since proved useless.

With one exception - if it could be restored to its original practice, of compelling a senator to take the floor and speak for hours upon hours, making a fool of himself,(or herself, these days), and letting the nation realize how foolish the speaker is.

The Senate needs to free itself from the dictatorship, the tyranny, of reactionary forces. Should the character of the Senate change, there might be a time when I regret my words, but in reality, I'd learn the lesson of politics - tides change, and to support a device that allows a disgruntled few to dominate the Senate cripples the nation, whether the Senate be under GOP or Democratic domination.

I hope, no, I beg you to support your President, my President, in the effort to send the filibuster to the neighborhood antique shop, and getting voting rights passed in the US Senate, for the sake of America.

Sincerely,


The Rev. Dr. Tom Eggebeen
Pasadena, CA

American Attitudes on "Blood" - Indigenous and Black

 New England’s own regional twist on the national racial idiom of Manifest Destiny. It held that Indian “blood” was weaker than that of other races, meaning that the child of an Indian and a non-Indian became a “half-blood,” the child of that “half-blood” and another non-Indian became a “quarter-blood,” and then, eventually, all trace of the Indian vanished, which is precisely what whites who coveted Indian land wanted to happen. By contrast, white Americans thought of black blood as polluting, so that any degree of African descent made one black. It was not coincidental that such a formulation expanded the servile black labor pool to the benefit of white people. In other words, whites’ inconsistencies in reckoning Indian and black racial identities were not illogical at all. They were entirely in line with white colonial desires.

Silverman, David J.. This Land Is Their Land (p. 400). Bloomsbury Publishing. Kindle Edition. 

Socialism in the Midwest - from Sinclair Lewis' "Main Street"

 From Chapter 4, "Main Street," by Sinclair Lewis ... 1920

Carol Milford, the new Mrs. Dr. Will Kennicott, at a party of the town's significant class, asks:

“There hasn't been much labor trouble around here, has there, Mr. Stowbody?” she asked innocently.

“No, ma'am, thank God, we've been free from that, except maybe with hired girls and farm-hands. Trouble enough with these foreign farmers; if you don't watch these Swedes they turn socialist or populist or some fool thing on you in a minute. Of course, if they have loans you can make 'em listen to reason. I just have 'em come into the bank for a talk, and tell 'em a few things. I don't mind their being democrats, so much, but I won't stand having socialists around. But thank God, we ain't got the labor trouble they have in these cities. Even Jack Elder here gets along pretty well, in the planing-mill, don't you, Jack?”

“Yep. Sure. Don't need so many skilled workmen in my place, and it's a lot of these cranky, wage-hogging, half-baked skilled mechanics that start trouble—reading a lot of this anarchist literature and union papers and all.”

“Do you approve of union labor?” Carol inquired of Mr. Elder.

“Me? I should say not! It's like this: I don't mind dealing with my men if they think they've got any grievances—though Lord knows what's come over workmen, nowadays—don't appreciate a good job. But still, if they come to me honestly, as man to man, I'll talk things over with them. But I'm not going to have any outsider, any of these walking delegates, or whatever fancy names they call themselves now—bunch of rich grafters, living on the ignorant workmen! Not going to have any of those fellows butting in and telling ME how to run MY business!”

Mr. Elder was growing more excited, more belligerent and patriotic. “I stand for freedom and constitutional rights. If any man don't like my shop, he can get up and git. Same way, if I don't like him, he gits. And that's all there is to it. I simply can't understand all these complications and hoop-te-doodles and government reports and wage-scales and God knows what all that these fellows are balling up the labor situation with, when it's all perfectly simple. They like what I pay 'em, or they get out. That's all there is to it!”

“What do you think of profit-sharing?” Carol ventured.

Mr. Elder thundered his answer, while the others nodded, solemnly and in tune, like a shop-window of flexible toys, comic mandarins and judges and ducks and clowns, set quivering by a breeze from the open door:

“All this profit-sharing and welfare work and insurance and old-age pension is simply poppycock. Enfeebles a workman's independence—and wastes a lot of honest profit. The half-baked thinker that isn't dry behind the ears yet, and these suffragettes and God knows what all buttinskis there are that are trying to tell a business man how to run his business, and some of these college professors are just about as bad, the whole kit and bilin' of 'em are nothing in God's world but socialism in disguise! And it's my bounden duty as a producer to resist every attack on the integrity of American industry to the last ditch. Yes—SIR!”

Mr. Elder wiped his brow.

Dave Dyer added, “Sure! You bet! What they ought to do is simply to hang every one of these agitators, and that would settle the whole thing right off. Don't you think so, doc?”

“You bet,” agreed Kennicott.