My Country, 'Tis of Thee

I am sitting in a movie theater in Bulawayo, Rhodesia*. It is 1958. I am a student at Eveline Girls High School in Bulawayo, and along with other boarding students, we are waiting for the movie to begin.  I have no recollection whatever of which movie it was. But certainly it was made in Hollywood and was therefore an American movie.  As movies did years ago, this one began with several short films—maybe news reels. I don’t recall.  But what I do most vividly recall is that when the opening credits of the feature film were about to roll, the screen suddenly filled with a flag of the United States of America, in lovely vivid color. As it waved in the breeze, I felt my whole being swell with pride. Here was the flag of MY country. The image was accompanied by the strains of the national anthem, The Star Spangled Banner.

I suspect I was alone in my patriotic fervor. I was no doubt the only American girl in the group. Most of the other students attending the boarding school were Rhodesian girls—white, in those days of apartheid—daughters of farmers and businessmen in the country. While there were other American girls attending Eveline—daughters of missionaries, as I was—I lived in the house closest to the actual school buildings, a consequence of my having had rheumatic fever which meant I was not meant to be subjected to too much physical strain, such as walking a distance to classes.  And when it came to movie going outings, we went by house**.

Fast forward several decades, and I am sitting in a football stadium attending a Penn State football game. As does every athletic event in the U.S.A., this one began with the band striking up the opening strains of the Star Spangled Banner and the entire crowd joining in.  Except me.  I found it hard to sing joyfully the words I knew by heart, and happily sang in the movie theater in Bulawayo.

When my parents, brother, sister and I returned to the U.S. in 1960, the United States was as shining an example of democracy as one could imagine.  We had helped win World War II, we had saved Europe and perhaps western civilization. We embodied the Yank can-do spirit. Give us a problem, and we could solve it, fix it, rescue it, save it.

Sure, we had divisions—some more painful and vivid than others. Blacks in America were living under continued white domination, even though slavery and the Civil War had ended. But blacks also migrated north in astonishing numbers and helped drive the great explosion of American manufacturing. 

Political parties existed, but Republicans and Democrats tolerated each other, and even worked together.  Where politics took on a very sharp turn was when Senator McCarthy began spotting “Communists” under every stone.  The McCarthy hearings devolved into some of the worst political persecution the United States had seen in its history.

And then came a decade of unraveling.  Like many Americans, I was entranced with the bright new president John Kennedy.  His assassination, while not the first of a sitting president, seems so much like turning out a light and plunging the nation into a kind of darkness.  Other political assassinations followed in stunningly swift succession — Malcolm X; Martin Luther King, Jr.; Robert Francis Kennedy.

The unraveling was also evidenced by the U.S. becoming mired in a winless war in Vietnam.  This is my generation’s war. Like any war, it took too many young lives. Classmates, friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, sons, brothers, fathers.  We mourned deeply, as we do today, Memorial Day. 

News trickled out of the horrific wholesale slaughter of villagers in Vietnam. We heard names like My Lai—places we never knew existed much less had an idea what they looked like. We only knew that the U.S. had lost its innocence. We weren’t the good guys anymore. The flag of the United States no longer symbolized something heroic.

There were other ways we lost our innocence. We learned how many countries had leaders overthrown by the CIA, in our name. Chile, Iran, Guatemala, Congo, Brazil, Dominican Republic, and even South Vietnam—ironically, President Kennedy authorized the assassination of President Diem in August, 1963.

What amazes and heartens me is that even with all this—the ways in which political leaders have deceived and failed us—we still have young men and women who are motivated by patriotism. Who see beyond the cynicism and respond to the call of duty. Young men and women who firmly believe that they can make the world a better place.

So on this day, Memorial Day, I say thank you to Larry and to Jay (friends who died in Vietnam), to all the young men and women who lost their lives in Vietnam, in Lebanon, in Kosovo, in Bosnia, in Iraq, in Afghanistan.

I love my country—I love the potential for which it stands.  I love the good it has accomplished in the world. And I love that it continues to beckon people all around the world to come here.  Yes, I will sing the Star Spangled Banner again—I just wish the “rocket's red glare and bombs bursting in air” was a less frequent occurrence. Along with the national anthem, I would love to sing heartily the words of some of our other unofficial national anthems—"God Bless America," "This Land is Your Land," and "My Country, 'Tis of Thee."

 Childe Hassam's painting Flags, Fifth Avenue

http://www.frederickhassam.org/Flags,-Fifth-Avenue.html

*In 1980, Rhodesia was renamed Zimbabwe.

** Think Harry Potter, where students are sorted into different houses, both for lodging and for academic competition.

We're Number One!

The World Cup has come...and gone.  And the weeks of enjoyable watching (some of us over-dosing) have also come and gone.  And the winner is ... Germany.  They're Number One.

In our travels, there have been times when we were in some European town or another when the home team won a football match (that's soccer to those in the USA) and at the close of the game, which the whole town seemed to have watched on television, the jubilant fans poured into the streets, jumped in cars and drove around, honking and yelling.  No doubt, that same kind of celebration happened in Germany after they won the 2014 World Cup.

The USA acquitted itself rather well--better than some people thought they might.  The success of the US team helped garner new football/soccer fans for this sport that is the most popular in the world.*

I am one fan who was somewhat relieved when the US didn't advance any more than they did.  Why, you might ask?  Mostly because I find US fans insufferable when it comes to chanting "We're Number One."  Or, if you will , the variation of that which is USA USA USA USA ad nauseum.

I don't even know what it means anymore when someone chants (seemingly endlessly) USA.  Does it mean we're Number One?  In what? Does it mean we're the best?  At what?

The sad thing is that we have become a reductive nation where mindless chanting seems to have taken the place of really trying to be the best at something.  It is quite startling to me that people who would chant USA USA are also the people who seem to say--stay away stay away.

We find ourselves in the middle of an immigration crisis.  True, that statement could have been made many times during the history of our country--and even the history of before it was "our" country.  No doubt, native Americans in what is now Massachusetts, or in Virginia, could rightfully have said--we have an immigration problem.

The nightly news has been displaying agonizing scenes of children--from little ones around four years old up to teens--all without parents, the same desperate parents who sent these children on a perilous journey rather than risk having them be killed by gangs.  Frankly, these are heart-breaking scenes.  And once the children cross into the US (we're number one country) they are met with angry citizens (I always wonder how long ago these people emigrated) who try to turn them away.

Now, before I go further--I have to confess that this incredibly complex and awful situation is one which I think demands a solution.  And I don't think the solution is simply to say--oh, let endless streams of parentless children come to the US.  That is a sociological nightmare in the making.  So I am not HAPPY that the floodgates have opened.  But it is plain heartless to beat on the buses bearing these children and to scream at them in red-faced anger and naked hatred.

We might even take a step back and ask ourselves--how have we contributed to the problem.  What is the problem?  Many parents say they so fear for their children's lives in the home country, where gang violence is rampant and small children are recruited into various aspects of the ever-burgeoning (illegal) drug economy.  To whom do the drug lords sell their products?  Where do the drugs go?  To the USA.  So, we own this problem, whether we like it or not.

I wish I had as ready a solution as I have a description of the problem.  I don't.  I do know that the problem was not caused by our current President.  In fact, the reason the children crossing the border are not immediately deported is because of a law that George W. Bush signed while he was president. The intent of that law was to prevent people trafficking in children from bringing children across the border for illegal use.  Talk about unintended consequences.

Maybe we should be more welcoming of these children from Central and South America.  Who knows--maybe one of them will become a star football (soccer) player in 10 years or so, and may even play for the USA team in a future World Cup.
-----------------
* http://sporteology.com/top-10-popular-sports-world/
1. Soccer
2. Cricket
3. Basketball
4. Hockey
5. Tennis
6. Volleyball
7. Table tennis
8. Baseball
9. (Tie) American football/  Rugby
10. Golf

Remembering...

The Allied Cemetery in Luxembourg (World War II)

November the 11th is a day for remembering.  Many people in the United States, Canada, the UK, and parts of Europe, those who were former Allies during World War I, remember this day as REMEMBRANCE DAY or VETERANS DAY.

But, there are parts of Europe where this day is not remembered--oh, perhaps remembered but not celebrated.

Several years ago, when we were on a trip through Germany, we visited Cologne.  This lovely city had been heavily bombed by the Allies during World War II.  It is now rebuilt, and even restored in many parts to its medieval heritage.  The famous cathedral stands again in all its imposing glory.  

As we walked around town, we passed a store front which was filled with costumes--you know, as in Hallowe'en type costumes.  We asked our city guide if Hallowe'en was popular.  He looked a bit puzzled and then replied--oh no, these are for Martinstag.  

Martinstag?--now we were puzzled.

Well, he explained--it's like Hallowe'en and harvest festival or Thanksgiving combined. We accepted that--adding a new celebration to our store of knowledge.  And when, we asked, is it celebrated?  He replied--on November 11.

Now, it was our turn to be puzzled.  November 11?  But, that's Remembrance Day, or Veterans' Day, or...Armistice Day.

Once again our guide looked puzzled--so we explained--the end of World War I, the treaty which took effect on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month.

But, of course, by now it dawned on us that it shouldn't be surprising that the defeated would not celebrate a day when victory came, but so did defeat.

Some people win and some people lose.  On this day, I always remember the sacrifices--those who fight have a cause they believe is right; they have countries they love and die for; and sometimes they are on the winning side, and sometimes the losing side.

Herewith John McCrae's poem "In Flanders Field"
In Flanders Field

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

John McCrae, written 1915

The German Cemetery in Luxembourg (World War II)

50 Shades of Brown

When I returned to teaching college English, I helped select a textbook of essays for students to read and then discuss.  We selected a text with a wonderful variety of engaging essays on a wide array of topics.  One of the essays, written in 1998 by Luis Urea and titled “Nobody’s Son”, included the observation that by the year 2050 “Latinos will be the majority population of the world. Not only will America be ‘brown,’ but it will also be the home of the new Democrats.”

I posed the question to the class—what do you think will happen in the U.S. when the majority population is brown?  Well, swaggered one student, it won’t matter because whites will still hold the power.  And, I swear, he snickered at his brilliance.  Maybe this year, that former student voted for Romney—and like Romney must have been stunned when Romney didn’t win.

Welcome to the new normal, as they say.  Or, as they say—this is not your father’s Oldsmobile.

There have been many analyses of the reasons why the 2012 presidential election turned out the way it did.  I can’t compete with all that greater wisdom, but I find it noteworthy that, as far back as 1998, someone such as Luis Urea anticipated the impact of a political party’s stance on issues would have on voting response.  He wrote: “most Mexican immigrants—both ‘legal’ and ‘illegal’—would vote Republican if given a chance, except the Republicans scare them.”

This wisdom was something that Bill O’Reilly and Karl Rove seemed unable to fathom.  Karl Rove’s meltdown on Fox News was particularly embarrassing, excruciating, and delicious to watch.  Perhaps—like too many Republicans, he has ignored facts for so long that, when faced with indisputable statistical evidence, he simply couldn’t believe that the skewed polls the Romney campaign had been relying on toward the end of the campaign could have been wrong.  But wrong they were, and wrong Rove was. 

When it came to Romney’s explanation as to why he lost, he also ignored the numbers, focusing instead on a variation on his 47% theme.  Obama—according to Romney—simply gave too many gifts to too many groups of people and Romney couldn’t compete with that.  Gifts?  Oh, right—such as forgiveness of college loan interest, or health care, or amnesty for children born in the U.S. or brought here as infants by parents who were illegal immigrants.  Sounds rather like Emma Lazarus’ poem “The New Colossus.”

I found it fascinating if not troubling that Romney saw those things as gifts—with a clear implication that the recipients were not worthy to receive—but did not see his own plans as gifts.  What about more tax breaks for the rich?  What about privatizing some of the essential elements of government so investors could reap the profits?  Romney also didn’t seem to realize that he himself benefits from “gifts”—a tax structure that grants him a far lesser tax burden than it does most of the people he disparaged.

But I digress.

If you want to delve into the numbers a bit more, here’s a fascinating graphic that looks at where Obama’s strength was, and where Romney’s was. Note that the trends that have continued to move in Obama’s favor are voters of Hispanic background. 

We are now two weeks past the election—and Romney has had his say.  Amazingly, other leaders in the Republican Party are distancing themselves from the “too many gifts” approach.  And, some of these leaders are even beginning to recognize that, if the Republican Party is going to survive into the future, it has to begin to reckon with the new normal.  Whites are now becoming a minority—as Bill O’Reilly observed, with a touch of amazement—and now there are fifty shades of brown. 

P.S. Karl Rove's new job (thanks to Farleftside.com)

 

The Great Divide

Our recent river trip through Germany took us across a continental divide.  While not so grand as the North American continental divide (think the Rockies), the rise took us from sea level at the North Sea to the Black Sea.  To traverse this continental divide we traveled through a series of locks, first rising bit by bit, then—after crossing the divide—descending the same distance. 

So, why this musing on the European continental divide?  Well, I am deeply troubled these days by the great divide that has grown in the U.S. over the past decade or so, that only seems to be deepening.  Part of what troubles me is trying to think how we might extricate ourselves from our current poisonous political environment and find a way to move forward as a country.  And the analogy of the series of locks to traverse the continental divide came to mind.  Isn’t that what we have lost?  Locks operate by incremental movement.  Need to achieve a rise of several hundred feet (or meters)?  You can do so by moving up a few feet or meters at a time.

I recently heard Thomas Mann and Norman Ornstein, who have collaborated on a recent book with the intriguing though depressing title of It’s Even Worse Than It Looks, note that presently in the U.S. the Republicans in Congress are functioning as though we have a parliamentary system.  Allegiance to the party’s mindset overcomes and “trumps” any thought of working together or compromise.

I can’t claim to have thought nearly as elegantly or as compelling as that observation, but it did strike me early on in President Obama’s presidency that some Republican leaders had hit upon a perfect way to defeat him.  Senate Minority Leader McConnell announced, practically from day one, that his only goal was to make Obama a one term president.  To accomplish that—block every initiative put forth by the president. 

While we have had previous times in our history where the country has been pulled this way and that by hyper-partisanship, today’s impasse strikes me as coming close to what led to our Civil War. 

Many issues seem to be at the heart of the great divide.  We battle over how to spend government money, we battle over how to raise government money.  We have elected officials who are badgered by non-elected self-appointed guardians of democracy who extract pledges never to raise taxes, before the elected official even takes office.  We have values issues, where one group's values become the dictates to another group’s freedom of conscience.  We have issues where choice means you cannot choose, and other issues where choice means you can opt out of public participation in something as basic as education.

And so I come back to the great divide.  I confess to a great heaviness of heart.  What does this ever-widening chasm portend for our country?  Forgive my Cassandra tone, but I am looking, very seriously looking, for someone who can lead us toward the locks that gently elevate us, and then lower us—to help us cross the great divide.

Saving the Republic

I have decided to haul myself out of the corner, stop licking my wounds, and begin to articulate some of what I have been thinking.

The genesis of my thought is this: what exactly is it about democracy (or more correctly, a republic) that the Republicans don't like that they are so hell-bent on establishing a one party (and ONLY ONE party) government in the United States?

To wit--it is no secret that Senator Mitch McConnell (pah, leaves a bad taste in my mouth to even write it) has said his goal is to make sure that President Obama is a one-term president. On that basis alone, how on the earth can anyone expect anything to change in our nation's capitol, much less get anything done?

And the reason McConnell--and others who think the same way--are so moved? They don't like the direction the country is headed. Apparently, it is their thinking that only one party is capable of coming up with programs and ideas to direct the country. Ergo--a one party system. I find that profoundly undemocratic.

The story goes that during the deliberations of the Constitutional Convention in 1787, Ben Franklin emerged from the heated discussions. A woman encountered him who asked--well, Doctor, what have we got—a Republic or a Monarchy?

Franklin's reply: a republic--if we can keep it.

A republic indeed. While it is tempting to launch into a discourse on the nature of a republic versus a democracy, I will resist. The distinction between a republic and a monarchy should be clear. In a monarchy, the power passes from one individual to another, usually by means of heredity, without any consultation of the people.

The very vitality of preserving our form of government depends on more than one voice, or one mode of thought, contributing to the conversation. Over time, what had been the federalists, or those who favored a strong central government, and those opposed to a strong central government, who instead favored more states' rights, has morphed into Democrats and Republicans.

If you will recall, the initial form of government tried by the colonies was a loose confederation of states, without much central authority. It failed, and failed miserably. So, the Constitutional Conventions struggled and finally brought forth the essential form of government we have today.

True, nothing in the Constitution presumed a two-party system. In fact, George Washington, who was generally a Federalist, warned about the dangers of political parties. It grieved him to see the seeds of dissension that were growing in the famous conflict between John Adams and Thomas Jefferson.

In his farewell address to the nation, when he declined to serve a third term as president, Washington was prescient in his anticipation of the impact of political parties on the nation:

They serve to organize faction; to give it an artificial and extraordinary force; to put in the place of the delegated will of the nation the will of a party, often a small but artful and enterprising minority of the community; and, according to the alternate triumphs of different parties, to make the public administration the mirror of the ill concerted and incongruous projects of faction, rather than the organ of consistent and wholesome plans digested by common councils and modified by mutual interests. . . [T]hey are likely, in the course of time and things, to become potent engines by which cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people and to usurp for themselves the reins of government, destroying afterwards the very engines which have lifted them to unjust dominion.

WOW--I'd say he nailed it.

However, we do have a party system today. Over time, as political systems have evolved, it becomes less possible for a country with a single party system to exist democratically as a republic. When I think of the non-monarchist governments in the world that have a single party "system" I can only come up with examples of places where tyranny has the upper hand.

So, my petition is--save the two party system. Save the Republic.

A republic--yes, if we can keep it.
-----------
Feel free to print this and mail it to Senator McConnell or Rep. Boehner.

Portrait of Benjamin Franklin by Joseph Siffred Duplessis

Take Back Our Country?

I am puzzled. A cry I hear a lot these days is--it's time to take back our country. And I wonder--what? who? did someone "take" your country? What are you talking about?

Let's review a few things. In 2000 we had a presidential election. The popular vote was 50,999,897 for Al Gore, and 50,456,002 for George Bush. The eventual electoral college vote was 271* for Bush and 266 for Gore. I have heard conservatives at various times say that people such as me should "just get over it"--the fact that the squeakingest close election in U.S. history was eventually decided by a vote of 9 people, with the vote 5 to 4. Get over it.

OK--I got over it. Well, not really--but I lived with it. For eight L-O-N-G years. But I never once shouted that we have to TAKE BACK OUR COUNTRY. I assumed the democratic process does work and would work.

Then, we had another presidential election with new players. This time around the popular vote was 69,456,897 for Obama, and 59,934,814 for McCain. The electoral college vote was 365 for Obama, and 173 for McCain. No need to go to the vote of 9 people.

I believe that's called "democracy"--vox populi. The voice of the people.

So, now when I hear these cries for "take our country back" I want to know--from whom? From me? Because I voted for Obama. And I believe I was VERY much in the majority.

Of course, there is a subtext here, and it turns the cries to a more sinister bent. Do you remember when the whole affair of Henry Louis Gates, Jr. kicked up a bit more than a year ago? I wrote about it here.

One of the subtexts in this story was that a black man was standing outside a really nice house, and it looked like he was breaking into the house. What was a black man doing in that neighborhood? Well, friends, I am sorry to say, the same subtext runs through this cry "take back our country." What is that black man doing in that neighborhood?

Oh, the people crying take back the country won't admit that they feel this way. In fact, some have even had the temerity to claim that Obama is the racist. (!) But, that is surely part of what this fuss is all about.

I just got done reading the book The Help. It's not a great book, but it is a page-turner, and it has some cogent observations about the way black and white folk interacted in the south 50 years ago. I am now reading a history of the development of Atlantic City (the basis for the new HBO series Boardwalk Empire). That book makes it plain that Atlantic City could not have become the resort it was without black help, yet blacks were expected to keep in "their place."

You can almost hear some of the same logic (or lack thereof) working in the anger directed at "Mexican" immigrants. It is hugely ironic that the website Take Back Our Country uses a stylized image of the Statue of Liberty's torch. (I am NOT going to link their website--if you really want to see it, you can find it.)

Maybe the folks who run the Tea Party, or who want to "take back our country" have forgotten what this country is all about.

So, here's a reminder.

It's about democracy--the people speak when they elect a president.
It's about the yearning to be free--that's why immigrants come here. Not so they can "drop" babies, but so they can be free.

Emma Lazarus captured part of the essence of this country when she wrote "The New Colossus."

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

This poem is engraved on a plaque that is placed at the base of the Statue of Liberty. So, people who want to "take our country back"--you may want to change what you stand for, or tear down the Statue of Liberty.

Oh, and just a little word--it's MY country too.

-------
* A presidential candidate needs 270 electoral college votes to be declared "the winner."

At last...

I have finished reading Jeff Sharlet's book The Family. I always list "The Top of the Pile" book--that is the book I am currently reading--along the sidebar of this page.

Sometimes, a book stays up for a good long time, until I either finish it or set it aside for another day. For a while, I had the biography of Andrew Jackson--American Lion--gracing my sidebar. That one I gave up on, at least for now. I will no doubt return to it. I gave up on it, partly because the contentious interaction in Washington while Jackson was president sounded too much like...today!

I then went off and read a bunch of easier reads--such as Marilynne Robinson's Home. Then, I tackled Jeff Sharlet's The Family. The subtitle tips the content--The Secret Fundamentalism at the Heart of American Power.

I first heard about the subject of Sharlet's book while watching MSNBC's coverage of the Governor Sanford story. You remember Governor Sanford? He went missing around Father's Day last year to . . .hike the Appalachian Trail. Um, no. To fly to Argentina to spend time with his mistress. He had an affair with an Argentinian woman. Following his return to the U.S., and his rambling tearful admission that he really wasn't hiking, Sanford sought spiritual guidance and counsel from fellow political folk at the C Street house in Washington, DC.

What's the C street house? Well, so glad you asked. Here's where The Family enters the picture. The C street house is owned by a secretive group called alternatively the Family or the Fellowship. The house is listed as a church, and thus is tax exempt property. It is also the place where, in addition to Governor Sanford, Senator Ensign was counselled about his on-going affair with the wife of his chief of staff. As if that wasn't bad enough, Senator Ensign then tried to buy off the woman and her husband. It is indeed a sordid story.

As if that twosome weren't enough, it is also where Representative Chip Pickering lived, while he had an affair. Interestingly enough, all three of these politicians thought it proper that President Bill Clinton should be impeached for his affair.

The story of the Family (or the Fellowship) is the subject of Jeff Sharlet's book. He did the kind of research that is almost unduplicatable--he lived in one of the Family's houses where they sort of indoctrinate people into their tenets. They do not advance a specific church theology, but they advance a specific Christian point of view--they hold Bible studies and prayer sessions. They seek to influence American, and for that matter international, politics.

That doesn't seem too bad, does it? Or does it. This is the group that is behind the recent bill introduced in Uganda that has made international news. Basically, the bill called for the death penalty for people who are found out to be gay. After the news began to emerge about this draconian bill, U.S. legislators affiliated with the Fellowship began to fall all over themselves disavowing any connection to the Ugandan bill.

It might to tempting to think--what's the problem with a group, even if it is secretive, that wants to infuse Christian concepts into our legislative process. I have thought long and hard about this question. And here's what I have come up with--first, I put forward the notion that a democracy and a theocracy cannot co-exist. If we were to be guided in all our legislative dealings with strictly Christian ideals, we would no longer have room for the portion of our population which is not Christian, or guided by Christian ideals.

Second, whose definition of Christian ideals would be used? Not all Christians agree, even on some essential tenets of faith. So who would decide? The current leaders of the Fellowship that Jeff Sharlet writes of eschew traditional organized religion. Instead, they call for Jesus + nothing. What does that mean?

Yes, it took me a long time to finish this book. Part of the reason, in addition to somewhat confusing content, was the dense writing style that Sharlet has. But, I made myself read through to the end. After all, a secretive group that has as its goal to change the fundamental way that we govern ourselves in this country is not something to be taken lightly. And it certainly isn't something that my wandering inattention should deter me from knowing about.

For the record, I am now reading Karen Armstrong's The Case for God. Much lighter reading, I assure you.

My Generation's War

I have learned, when I use examples during my teaching, to qualify the time frame of my reference. I have had too many blank stares when students have NO clue to what I am referring. So when I talk about Vietnam, I always say--that is my generation's war.

With today being Memorial Day, a time set aside to remember, I recall young men. I knew several young men who went to Vietnam--classmates from high school or college. Of those who went to Vietnam, two were killed there.

Larry was our college class president. He volunteered for the Marines immediately upon graduation from college. Somewhere along the way, before he was deployed, he got married. He was sent to Vietnam February 27, 1968. At that time, the usual tour of duty in Vietnam was one year. Larry was killed in a helicopter crash on February 4, 1969, just days before he was due to return home. At the time, the crash was attributed to hostile action. However, witnesses have since reported that the true cause was a mid-air collision between two U.S. helicopters.

When his funeral was held, I was one of the classmates who volunteered to speak. I have no recollection at all what I might have said. I just remember having this incredible sense of the terrible waste of a life. He was such a decent guy--with a sweet winning smile. And he lived all of 25 years.

Jay was a high school friend of my husband's. They had grown up together; their families attended the same church. Jay had met a perky young woman, and they were quickly engaged. Then, he volunteered for the Marines. He too was deployed to Vietnam. On November 16, 1966 he was killed in a skirmish with Vietcong. Jay had spent time at the base camp and had built an observation tower. During the skirmish, he had climbed that tower to get a better view of what was happening. An explosion knocked him from the tower, and he died. He was one month shy of turning 20.

I had exchanged a few letters with Jay, which I saved for years. In 2001, I heard from a buddy of his, who read a comment I had written on a memorial page. I sent the buddy those letters. He used them in a lovingly written memorial that you can read here.

I was attending graduate school when I learned that Jay had been killed. To work through that awful news, I sat at the piano in the house I lived in during grad school, and played over and over the lovely aria from Handel's Messiah "I Know That My Redeemer Lives".

My recollection is that Jay's funeral had an open coffin with his nearly unmarked body lying in repose. Memory can be faulty--I asked my father about this recollection. My father was pastor of the church Jay 's family (and my husband's family) attended at the time. My father could not confirm my memory. Maybe I only imagined it.

After many years, I finally went to see the Vietnam Memorial in DC. I slowly walked along those gleaming black sections of the Wall that reflect the faces of those who grieve their losses. I found Larry's name, and I found Jay's name. I slowly ran my fingers over those names.

Two young men--two lives sadly cut short.

My generation's war. Oh, if only it were the last war.

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

Photo of Larry Houck from

http://www.arlingtoncemetery.net/lehouck.htm

Photo of Vietnam Memorial from:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:TouchWall.jpg

1-20-09

I have seen this date for a number of months, now. One of the cars of a fellow faculty at my community college has this date on the bumper.

I have been waiting. Counting down.

And praying.

Prayer has become quite the subject of late. President Obama (oooo--the first time I have typed that!) had asked several people to offer prayers--controversially, Rick Warren; Joseph Lowery; and on Sunday at the "We are One" concert--Bishop Gene Robinson.

An Internet discussion group that I read had a lively exchange on whether or not Rick Warren "would invoke the name of Jesus." Some on this discussion group opined that he had better--almost with a teeth gritting tone. Others weren't so sure. The discussion went back and forth. If you watched the inauguration, you know that Rick Warren said "in the name of the one who changed my life."

I did not see any flurry of controversy about Reverend Joseph Lowery's benediction prayer--but I actually found it to be one of the most authentic moments of the inauguration (that is, if you don't count Chief Justice Roberts' flubbing of the oath of office).

On Sunday, when the celebratory concert of "We are One" was held, Bishop Gene Robinson prayed the invocation, not that anyone watching HBO saw it. Big mix-up.

I find Gene Robinson to be one of the most delightful, good-humored, gentle souls. Upon his being asked to pray, he began studying inaugural prayers. He was stunned, he said, at how militantly Christian he found them. In light of the "invoke the name" discussion surrounding Rick Warren's prayer, Gene Robinson said he planned to pray to the God of his understanding. Then, he explained that during his recovery from alcoholism, he learned that in AA one of the phrases is to invoke "the God of my understanding."

I was so touched by that admission on Bishop Robinson's part.

Thanks to the quick thinking of Sarah Pulliam of Christianity Today, we have the text of Robinson's prayer. Apparently, she taped it with her cell phone and then transcribed it. You can read about her here.

And here is Bishop Robinson's prayer:

“O God of our many understandings, we pray that you will bless us with
tears -- tears for a world in which over a billion people exist on less than a
dollar a day, where young women in many lands are beaten and raped for wanting
an education, and thousands die daily from malnutrition, malaria, and
AIDS.

Bless this nation with anger -- anger at discrimination, at home and
abroad, against refugees and immigrants, women, people of color, gay, lesbian,
bisexual, and transgender people.

Bless us with discomfort at the easy, simplistic answers we’ve preferred to hear from our politicians, instead of the truth about ourselves and our world, which we need to face if we are going to rise to the challenges of the future.

Bless us with patience and the knowledge that none of what ails us will be fixed anytime soon, and the understanding that our new president is a human being, not a messiah.

Bless us with humility, open to understanding that our own needs as a
nation must always be balanced with those of the world.

Bless us with freedom from mere tolerance, replacing it with a genuine
respect and warm embrace of our differences.

Bless us with compassion and generosity, remembering that every religion’s God judges us by the way we care for the most vulnerable.

And 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, inspire him with President Lincoln’s
reconciling leadership style, President Kennedy’s ability to enlist our best
efforts, and Dr. King’s dream of a nation for all people.

Give him a quiet heart, for our ship of state needs a steady, calm captain.

Give him stirring words; 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 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 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."

AMEN and amen.

VOTE!

Tomorrow is the big day. . .unless you live in a state that has early voting (I don't). . .or unless you voted by absentee ballot (lucky).

Why vote?

Why vote?

Why vote?

Why vote?

Because all around the world there are people who, when first given the opportunity to vote, take that opportunity seriously.

the lines for voting in South Africa during first nationwide vote

I will be at my precinct voting--as I have for 42 years--in every election, both primary and general! I have voted for losers and I have voted for winners. I much prefer the latter, but the former has never dissuaded me from voting.

Love & Country

No, this is not going to be a post about country music—even though love and country are two favorite themes for such.

Last night, I finished reading the next in the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series, by Alexander McCall Smith—this particular book being called In the Company Of Cheerful Ladies. The book ends with this paragraph:

“Love—that is what redeems us, that is what makes our pain and sorrow bearable—this giving of love to others, this sharing of the heart.”

This series is set in Botswana, Africa, and features the main character, Precious Ramotswe. While there are many other novels about Africa that are far better (for example Nervous Conditions by Tsitsi Dangarembga), I gravitate to this series because in part it resurrects for me a view of the Africa in which I grew up.

When I was growing up in Africa, I used to attend the occasional movie at a theater in Bulawayo, and my memory is that the movies, distributed from the United States, would begin with a display of the American flag and the playing of our national anthem. I always felt a cachet of pride seeing the flag streaming in the wind. Secretly, I would think, a lone American among a theater full of white Rhodesians (remember this was in the 1950s), that’s MY country. I had a cachet of pride not unlike Precious Ramotswe’s strong feelings for Botswana.

I reflect with rue how times have changed for me. These days, when I attend an event where the national anthem is played and the flag is displayed, I am almost overwhelmed with shame. Yes, the United States is still a great country, and I still do love this country, but I am so ashamed of our bullying stance in the world. If we decide that a country should behave a certain way, why, let’s just march “over there”—wherever there is, and impose our will. A one approach to government fits all. No wonder we are increasingly reviled around the globe.

Well, what about love? The other half of this blog’s subject. Precious Ramotswe loves country and she loves the people around her. In particular, she frequently reflects on her good fortune in loving one good man. (I don’t mean to turn this blog into a comparison between me and Precious, but. . .) I have been blessed with the good fortune in loving one good man—my husband and I will celebrate our 40th anniversary a year from now. So, as I finished the book, closed it, took off my glasses, I reflected—love, that is what redeems us.