UBUNTU

 

CANDLE

In the Xhoso culture of Africa, UBUNTU means, “I am because We are.”  Dr. Horty @ IT IS WHAT IT IS  blog shared this with her readers.  I found it absolutely profound in the troubled times of our world and especially American society today.

The boy replied, “How can any one of us be happy if the others are sad?”

An anthropologist visiting and studying the Xhoso tribe placed a basket of fruit and presented a game to a group of young boys.  Run to the fruit and claim it.  If the strongest and fastest of those boys had raced to the basket of fruit placed at a short distance from them, that one boy could have claimed all the fruits.  Instead, they joined hands, ran together as a group, and claimed the fruits as one, thereby insuring all would partake of the prize.  When the anthropologist questioned their action, the reply was, “Ubuntu – I am because We are.”

And we think we are more civilized?  There is much we can learn from those peoples in “uncivilized” back regions of the world who have learned a lesson most of us have failed to grasp – our humanity will have a much greater chance of survival if we learn we are all connected and we are one.

The ancient mystics understood this concept.  They, when contemplating the creative  source, declared that all of creation is one with the Creator.  Every member of every species on Earth has a unifying spark of DNA derived from that Creator at the beginning of time.  It is a connection that is infinite and eternal.  WE ARE ONE, because we were designed as one.

“I AM BECAUSE WE ARE”

Perhaps it would behoove us to take this wisdom into our collective heart and soul, celebrate our Oneness, and live life accordingly.  Possibly it is the only way our species will survive.

 
rainbow-solidarity

for everything, a season

The quiet of a crisp autumn afternoon walk through the woods, fallen leaves of red, orange, and yellow covering  the dirt lane with a sadness which slows our steps, tells us that this colorful spectacle is the final hurrah before the cold stillness of winter covers our festive pathway.  All the seasons of life have been wonderful, but now it is time to gather memories and store reserves for the final push across the pending horizon to a new life.

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For everything there is a season,
a right time for every intention under heaven —
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to throw stones and a time to gather stones,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to discard,
a time to tear and a time to sew,
a time to keep silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

ECLESIASTES 3:1-8

Not yet over, but rapidly approaching winter, has it not been a spectacular life?  Let us embrace the dancing, the laughter and the love as we enter expectantly and faithfully our final season stretching across the unknown into a welcoming rest from our earthly travail.

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Who’s your Daddy?

 

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“Turn Your ear to me, rescue me quickly.  Be a rock of refuge for me, a stronghold for my deliverance.” PSALM 31:3 TL

Where do you go when your world is being challenged from all sides?  I know you have been there because you and I are not uniquely different and, trust me, I have spent a lot of time begging the above verse penned by the authors of Psalms.  It is my signature plea to a timeless, Universal entity whom I name God.  You may name yours by another name, but when we cast aside man’s theological philosophies there is just one who is the I AM.

I like the word phrasing, “rock of refuge.”  It inspires in my mind a place, or state of consciousness, which is protected from the ravages of an insane world, a place where the intents of vile men cannot reach me, a sanctuary which can conceal me even from the evil which exists within.  The rock is strong, impenetrable and secure.  Amazingly, it does not erode with the forces of nature or the passage of time.  On the contrary, it grows and becomes stronger.

And, it is a “stronghold for my deliverance.”  As much as I would like to attribute all my factory defects to environment and circumstance, when I find that inner  place of honesty and transparency, I realize that I need desperately to be delivered from myself and the character traits which make my personal world insane and unmanageable.  “Turn you ear to me, rescue me quickly” from that which seeks to destroy me – anger, envy, greed, gluttony, pride, sloth, and lust.

Social injustice, poverty, oppression, national politics are also issues that can cause severe conflict if I don’t have a rock to sort everything and place priorities on those issues.  Approaching wickedness and uncivility with a peaceable intervention does not imply a lack of conviction.  I do not need to scream and rant to show the outside world that I am incensed by a corrupt political system.  Jesus overturned the tax collectors’ tables efficiently and forcefully, but I don’t see in the Bible any accounts of screaming, violence, and profanity.  Jesus also had that rock as his fortress and refuge.  He had his personal inner conviction guiding his actions, but he relied on the strength of the rock whom he called Father.

Many people want to contradict the existence of a rock, they vehemently deny with substantial energy that God is not.  That’s OK, I at one time was one of them.  Stridently ridiculing those of faith and defying them to prove their faith was a hallmark of my youth.  I was the intelligent one, they were the dupes.

Only when alcoholism forced me to my knees, did I decide to stay on my knees for a few moments longer and say a prayer, plead to the unfamiliar rock and fortress which I had ridiculed and discredited for many years.  With no more arguments, nothing to lose,  I was in desperate need of relief from myself and my atheism.

My church foundation as a young boy was based on old time preaching and music.  We sang “ROCK OF AGES” probably every Sunday.  “Rock of ages cleft for me.”  It’s a stunning visual for lost souls –  a fissure in a solid rock wall split to provide protection and comfort from the elements of our personal storms.  Why would anyone not want to believe?

ROCK OF AGES

 

Jesus in disguise

Just another traveler on life’s highway hanging out in the slow lane.  It’s quiet.  It’s peaceful.  Beyond the horizon is rest beckoning me.  Green pastures, still waters, my cup overflows.  Surely goodness and mercy will follow me.

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“Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger………

The fiercely defiant woman holding her travel bag refuses to release the arm of a small child, her 6 year-old son.  Guards surrounding her now, she screams profanities at the men who are attempting to take the child from her.  They understand her Spanish words and react more harshly to accomplish the mission of the border agents.  Since three days before, when a new government directive ordered that children crossing the border with their families be separated from parents  and confined for further relocation, detention centers were created from abandoned retail centers to house the detainees.  Within those buildings fenced cages housed the children.  Their only offense was escaping with their parents from hostile and dangerous conditions wrought by political and social turmoil in their native homeland.  They sought to start anew in a land they perceived as a place of opportunity and freedom.

………or needing clothes or sick in prison…….

Since going into hiding on 6 July 1942 with her parents and sister in concealed rooms behind a book case, the young girl remembers a previous life of respectability and shared community in the Netherlands.  A gifted writer, she passes her time keeping a diary.  They are joined later by the van Pels family and Mr. Pfeffer, a dentist.  The eight of them share the cramped quarters for two years.

Then on 4 August 1944, “Shhhhh, they are here, don’t move,” whispers their father.  The noises and sounds of footsteps grow closer and the Gestapo storms the door which has concealed their whereabouts, their hiding place.

On 3 September 1944, Anne, her sister Margot and their parents Otto and Edith were boarded on a cattle train to their final destination at Auschwitz where the Nazi government’s solution to the disposition of unwanted elements in Aryan society was carried out.  The men were separated from the women by the SS. Those deemed able to work were admitted to the camp; those deemed unfit including children under 15 years of age were sent directly to the gas chambers.  Of the 1019 passengers on that train, 549 were immediately dispatched to death. Mother Edith died later of starvation, Anne and Margot died of typhus.  Father Otto survived the death camp.  He returned to Amsterdam where, having received his daughter’s diary and notes from a friend, he realized the significance of Anne’s writings and proceeded to publish them.

……and did not help you?”

His half-frozen body hangs from the fence crossing the barrenness of the cold October prairie.  Small in stature, boyish in appearance, he has been brutally beaten and left to die by his abductors.  It is many hours after the assault before he is discovered and rushed to a nearby hospital, where he will die six days later from severe head injuries.  A bright young man, fellow students remember him as a friendly face in the college classroom where he has attended classes.

Stories detailed the events leading up to his death.  Some wanted to believe it was a drug deal gone bad, others said it was a hate crime directed at his sexual orientation.  In the end analysis, it truly did not matter to his mother and loved ones what reasons were responsible.  The boy was brutalized and left hanging on a fence in Wyoming to die.

“Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for the least of these…..

The man standing on the corner holding his tattered cardboard sign looks longingly at motorists passing by hoping that someone will roll down the car window and pass enough money to him to feed his growling stomach.  Nobody stops.  They don’t seem to notice.  He reflects on the times he also was that motorist who ignored beggars standing on the corner with their cardboard signs.  The times back then were better.  He had a job and a family who depended on him, loved him.  But, addiction stole all of that, made him an unbathed, ragged homeless man who now lives in the nearby woods with others like him.  Different stories to tell, but all of them now hungry and destitute.

…..you did not do for me.”  Matthew 25:44

I open my eyes in a sweat-soaked bed, my pulse racing.  I recognize the man with the sign on the corner in my dream.  It is me.  I recognize the motorists passing by ignoring the man’s needs.  They also are me.

I am the one who stands along the rail tracks leading to Auschwitz wondering where the human cargo is heading, knowing where they are going, too frightened to be involved.

I am the border guard seizing the child from his mother.  My conscience tells me this is not right, but I have a family to support, I need the job.

I am the one who watches the frail boy being bullied after gym class.  They are calling him a sissy, a wimp.  I watch as the bigger boys punch and poke him.  They make fun of him because he is different.  I turn and go to my next class not wanting to be the next target for their taunts and abuse.

“There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.”

ELIE WIESEL

COLIN KAEPERNICK

NIKE just announced its “JUST DO IT” campaign featuring Colin Kaepernick.  If you are an inhabitant of planet Earth and somehow have missed this ongoing story please follow the link NIKE

“Believe in something.  Even if it means sacrificing everything.”

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This story is extremely relevant to today’s issues of racism and violence in American society.  Social injustice has always been a hot button topic when the love commanded by the authors of the world’s major faiths has been contradicted.  Jesus of the Bible was the world’s premier egalitarian battling for the God-given rights of all peoples regardless of race, creed or sex.  It is no different today; we need social justice warriors who peaceably declare to the world as Jesus did, “This is not right.  We can do better.”

The authors of the letters to the Corinthians stated it this way:

“If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and I have faith that can move mountains, but DO NOT HAVE LOVE, I AM NOTHING.”  1 Corinthians 13:2

That’s rather explicit, is it not?  It is convicting.  Gold nor silver nor the wealth of the world nor power and prestige will avail me any measure of good if love, a.k.a. compassion, is absent.  Truly, I am challenged by this on a nearly daily basis especially in the tumultuous times in which we live.  It is so much easier to hate and despise than to commit to love and understanding.

Colin Kaepernick has been on my radar for several years since taking that first knee on the sidelines.  Initially, like many others, I thought it was probably a publicity stunt, a move to put his name in the headlines.  It was much the same with Tim Tebow, another hero of mine, who took a knee many times during a game to show gratitude to his God.  He also suffered ridicule and contempt for daring to display his “greater cause” on the playing field and in public life.  Tim persevered and gained national attention on January 8, 2009 when, during the college national championship, he wore John 3:16 in eye black under his eyes.  During that game 93 million people googled John 3:16.

Pretty cool stuff, don’t you think?  Tim’s career suffered because of his faith and Colin’s career nose-dived when politicians involved themselves labeling him “disloyal and unpatriotic.”  It was then that I understood and believed the “greater cause” which he advocated.

My heroes today, those people whom I try to emulate, sometimes successfully but often not, are men and women who have something nobler for which to fight and strive, a greater cause.  It is not riches nor power nor prestige that I admire;  it is honor, integrity, and sacrifice.

Believe in something.  Even if it means sacrificing everything.

 

John McCain’s legacy

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Did you watch any of the service from our National Cathedral for Senator John McCain? Did you shed a tear, pray with the clergy, become misty-eyed with the singing of “Danny Boy,” smile with the numerous anecdotes from the speaking dignitaries? Did you share with your fellow Americans remembrances of a better time, a more civil time when opposing political positions honored each other’s differences while pursuing their vision of greatness? Did it move you?

That which we witnessed from the National Cathedral at John McCain’s funeral service truly showcased the greatness of a country which at one time was able to compromise in a varied political spectrum where agendas and opinions were vastly different yet solutions were achieved. In today’s gathering darkness, that which made America great has been sacrificed for the privilege and profit of a few of the financial elite and politically powerful.

Did you listen to the eulogies from Presidents Obama and Bush? We heard two great statesmen who loved their country, yet served under differing political philosophies. Each brought a tear to my eye remembering a time not long ago when I was proud of our leadership even if I did not embrace their brand of governing. Each in his own way brought honor, discipline, and integrity to a very difficult assignment – the Presidency.

For a few hours on Saturday, from Washington, D.C., America was made great again, given a reprieve from that which has transpired since November of 2016. We don’t need red caps or hateful rallies to declare our greatness to the world or to bolster what we are as a people. We saw today whom we can once again be if we draw upon the decency and integrity of true patriots, those who know how to serve unselfishly with honor, truthfulness, and respect.

Democrats and Republicans alike have a huge reserve of talented and dedicated men and women who love this country just as much as you and I. They respect the valor and courage of our national heroes who have faithfully served. These patriots and potential great statesmen may have been silent when silence was least needed, but they are waiting in the wings to take up the battle where John McCain left off. We need nothing less than national heroes to guide us through this national darkness. Vote in November as if our democracy depends on it because possibly it does.

lest we forget

 

 

As they arrived at their unfamiliar destination, fear and uncertainty filled their hearts.  The children clung to their mothers as men speaking harshly directed the travelers to an unseen outpost for processing.  Upon arriving there, the children were separated from parents and taken from the sight of mothers who by now were desperately sobbing and screaming, “Where are you taking my child?”  

A scenario from America’s southern border with Mexico where refugees from Central America and South America have been stopped by immigration officials?  No, this is a scene from Hitler’s Nazi Germany during the early 1940s.  Those children were sent to slave labor camps to work for the German war machine or to their deaths because they were too young to work.

I have often been chided for slipping from sobriety and spiritual themes offering hope and recovery to issues of social justice facing our contemporary society in not only the USA but also the world.  For reasons unknown to me even I can convince myself that I should avoid straying from noncontroversial topics.  It’s safer and it’s more pleasant to prattle on about the ABCs of ‘serene and clean” living then to face the harsh realities of the world in which we live

WWJD?  What would Jesus do?  What would any community-spirited sober-minded citizen do?  The answer always comes back to me in undeniable clarity.  Having read the words attributed to Jesus and the stories of his ministry to his oppressed and downtrodden fellow Israelites, having been advised by a Higher Power in the form of other recovering alcoholics that the program of Alcoholics Anonymous is preparing me to return to society as a useful tool and voice in my community, I must muster the courage and determination to be a voice, no matter how small,  for justice in a socially unjust society.  That’s my definition of spirituality and recovery.

You say my introductory paragraphs can’t happen here in America in 2018?  Really?  It’s a slippery slope on which our experiment in democracy finds itself today.  The grand copper  Lady in New York Harbor welcomed “the tired and poor, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse, the homeless and tempest tost.”  The words from the Book of Matthew which evangelical Christianity tongues fervently, “As ye do unto the least of these, my brothers, ye have also done unto me,” convicts us of our failure in today’s refugee crisis.

If I am truly a child of God created in the image of God, a spiritual entity, then I must be concerned with the injustices I see on a daily basis on my media screens.  I must offer a dollar or a meal to the homeless man on the corner.  I must be involved in a political process which challenges the greed of the wealthy and the indifference of the politically powerful.  When I talk the talk of sweet verses and inspiration, I also must walk the thorny paths of human misery shoulder to shoulder with the huddled masses.  I am nothing if I can’t empathize with the suffering brother, the hungry beggar, or the homeless man on the corner.  “If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith which can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.” 1 Corinthians 13:2

When I am tempted to stand before the world thumping my chest with American pride and Christian hypocrisy, when I want to believe somebody else will take care of the poor and homeless, it is then that I need to find a quiet place and reorganize my priorities asking WWJD.

Think about it.  Hitler denigrated Jews as sub-human, as animals.  He fed the fears of Germans with racism and intolerance.  He appealed to human depravity at its worst.  He declared Aryans to be the superior, God-blessed race.  Their fate is well documented in historical annals and film.

Can’t happen again?  Maybe or maybe not, but I don’t want to be the one who quietly stood on the sidelines of neutrality.

“The opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference.  The opposite of art is not ugliness, it is indifference.  The opposite of faith is not heresy, it is indifference.  And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.” 

“There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.”

Elie Wiesel