Lectionary Musings for January 13, 2013

I have decided to bring a little discipline to my religious life.by musing on one of the lectionary readings for the coming Sunday.  Yes, I now belong to a church that follows a three year cycle of readings from the Bible. As a Southern Baptist reject, I have found these readings to be surprisingly comforting.  My musings today will be on Luke 3:15-17, 21-22, labeled by commentators as the baptism of Jesus.

Why did Jesus have to be baptized?   I know scholars can provide answers.  I suspect that in the past I had explored the question either on my own or in a study group setting, but no glib answers spring to mind. 

We know some people were confused and thought John the Baptist was the Messiah.  Even John's own denial may not have stopped their belief in him. Jesus knew he was the Messiah, but he does not wish to announce it to the world.  He is content to let the confusion continue for a while.  This will give him time to call his disciples and begin the long, circuitous death march to Jerusalem.  I think with his baptism Jesus is announcing the beginning of his ministry to God.

One oddity in Luke's narrative is that John is arrested and thrown into jail before Jesus is baptized.  I had never noticed this because all the narratives of Jesus baptism have long since blurred into one preferred story in my mind.  A commentator called my attention to this strange glitch in Luke's story of Jesus' baptism.  If John is in jail, who baptizes Jesus?  God, the Creator.

By going to the place of baptism, Jesus announces his intention to become the God that has always been within, the God submerged within the human until this time. Now that divinity will be free and fully engaged in the world around him.  

Jesus prays, heaven opens and the "Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased.""  Here for me is the Trinity: Creator, Holy Spirit, and Word.

In the beginning, the Trinity is one.  The Holy Spirit (Love) is the binder between Creator and Word as the universe is spoken into existence.  In choosing to be born of a woman, the bond was not severed, but I believe it must have been stretched.  How could it not have been as the Word of God was poured into a vessel as limited as a human being? 

At baptism, Jesus acknowledges who and what he is.  The Holy Spirit  descends and binds Creator and Word together.  The Trinity is whole.  Jesus will show us God in human form linked by Love to the Creator.

How does this passage speak to me?  It reminds me that Jesus made a conscious commitment to pursue the purpose God had set for him.  I believe that we are confronted at some point with existence of God, just as Jesus was confronted at his baptism by the Creator.  When does this happen?  At different times, in different ways, with different concepts of God.  Then and only then are we required to make a choice.  We can choose to become some small part of God's plan, God's being, or God's eternity, but it is our choice and I believe it comes for everyone on this planet. 

For me, this choice came at age 29.  I had received a doctorate in chemistry at age 25 and was actively engaged in science.  I was a confirmed deist, not attending any church and not interested in doing so. I had been told as a child by Sunday School teachers and ministers that Christians did not ask questions about God or about our faith.  Any faith that did not like questions was not for me. After age 13, I never attended a church of any kind again. 

As the years passed,  I did feel I was missing something in my life.  I began a totally unsystematic study of various faiths minus Christianity, of course.  I also made random attempts at finding some volunteer opportunities (none religious) where I could be of service. Nothing seemed to fit. 

I was a voracious reader.  I had enjoyed C. S. Lewis' Narnia series as a child.  Now, I read his science fiction trilogy.  I was a little put off by the obvious religious overtones, but I enjoyed all three books.  Looking for more by him, I read The Screwtape Letters.  Suddenly, there was more to Christianity than I had believed.  I decided perhaps I should see if there was an intellectual side to Christianity afterall.

I made a choice and joined a liberal Baptist church with an engaging minister who presented short messages that challenged you to think.  At the same time, I joined a study group led by a doctoral candidate in philosophy.  Both the minister and the study group made me realize that Christianity was a faith of the intellect as well as the soul.  I could ask all the questions I wanted.  So when I was asked to be a deacon, I said yes to serving and yes to God.  My choice was to believe. 

As a Christian I met a God who revealed herself in the Bible as Creator, Love and Word.  Now that Love came to me as the Comforter, the Holy Spirit.  There was no speaking in tongues, no tongues of fire. no overwhelming emotion.  Just a quiet assurance that I had found my way.  

Jesus was a year older than I was when he made his choice.  Perhaps the message of his baptism is that even if one committed oneself to God as a child (remember Jesus in the temple at 12), adulthood demands a fresh decision. Choose.
 





 

That ain't no house cat!

Toby has been gone for many years, now.   He lived with us for over fourteen years before kidney failure killed him. He showed up on our front porch asking for food.  My mother fed him, of course.

He was an enormous cat, not fat, just big. His head was even with my knee when he stood on all fours. A classic tabby, his fawn and black swirls reminded you of an ocelot.  I told my mother that such a beautiful animal must belong to somebody.  She responded, "Someone dumped him."  I think she was correct.

Even though we had dogs, Toby did not leave. He probably knew that for all their noise, they liked cats. The second day he appeared on the porch, I decided to take a closer look at him, so I could place an ad in the newspaper ( this was long before the internet).  He was neutered that was good, someone had cared about him.  He had enormous feet, but the front ones looked a little strange.  To my horror I discovered  that he had been declawed.  Neither Mother or I believed a cat should be declawed. We also believed a declawed cat should never be outside. (Toby would change our opinion on that.)  I looked him straight in the face and realized his head was lopsided. One side was much larger than the other. It only took me a moment to determine that Toby had a large lump on the side of his head just over his jaw joint. He did not protest as I felt it and that scared me. I thought cancer.

Off to my veterinarian this new cat and I went. When we arrived, I was asked for a name for my new cat. "Toby," I said without thinking, and Toby he was. The veterinarian examined the lump.  Toby never moved.

"He's a good cat. I think this is an abscess that needs to be drained," my veterinarian said.

Those words were great news.  An abscess could be treated.  

She took a scalpel out of a drawer and made an incision. Toby did not like that, and it took all my strength to keep him on the exam table.  He was big and strong.  He wanted to leave, but he did not bite.

The veterinarian's diagnosis was correct. Yellow pus flowed out of the incision in a torrent. Once drained and flushed,  she filled the hole with antibiotic ointment. I left with pills and ointment and instructions to bring him back if he did not improve.

He improved.  The wound healed without any complications and no visible scar.

I placed the ad in the paper and asked around the neighborhood, but no one claimed Toby. He became part of the family, unphased by four dogs and two other cats. We did not try to make him an indoor only cat because we had a doggy door that opened into a fenced yard. We hoped Toby would have sense enough to stay in that yard, and for the most part, he did. The yard was surrounded by a six foot chain link fence (tough neighborhood, bars in back and a flop house across the street in front). Toby loved to perch on a fence post and survey both the back yard and the adjacent alley.

One day, my mother was in the back yard trimming shrubbery. Toby had assumed his normal perch on the fence post where he could supervise. My mother was five feet two inches tall and slender. That meant there was a twenty pound cat with the markings of an ocelot teetering on a metal fence post about a foot above her head.  Mother paid no attention. Toby did this all the time.  If he lost his balance, he simply jumped to the ground.

Suddenly, she heard a man yell, "Ma'am, ma'am, look out for that wild cat."

Mother looked around.  She did not see the wild cat.  The only cat in sight was Toby, who had now decided to jump to the ground beside her.

"Ma'am," yelled the man who was sprinting down the street toward the fence, "Run."

At that moment, it dawned on Mother that the wild cat the man was so concerned about was Toby. As the man reached the fence, Mother reached down and petted Toby.

"He's no wild cat. Toby is a house cat."

The man had reached the fence and now simply stared at mother. "Are you sure?" he finally asked.

"Yes," said Mother. "He's a family pet."

The man shook his head, turned and walked away.

Mother heard him mutter as he left: "That ain't no house cat."

A Christian Response to the Conservative Mantra, No Help Through Government

The Bible passage below seems to be ignored by many conservative Christians, and Republicans in the House as evidenced by their vote for the Ryan budget that shreds services for the hungry, poor, homeless and ill.  I fear this is the budget that Romney will inflict on this nation if elected.  I would offer my own updated version of  Matthew 25:41-45.

On the day of judgment, Jesus will ask "Why did you not care for me when I was  hungry, poor, homeless, disabled, and sick?  Conservative Christians will answer, "We did not see you suffering like that in our neighborhoods."  Then Jesus will answer, "I am everywhere in the world with the least of my people.  In your nation, you elected representatives to cut all the programs funded by the federal government that would feed the hungry, aid the poor, help the handicapped, and provide medical care for the sick.  Conservatives will answer, "The help would have come from the government, not us personally.  We would help those next door."  Jesus will answer,  "Do you think I only want you to care for the person next door?  Do I care if you help with your own hands or through the hands of others?  I care for the least of these my brothers and sisters.  When these least were hungry, struggled in despair with no money, wandered the streets of your great cities, and died alone in your parks, I starved, had no money to care for myself or my family, slept under the bridges in your cities, and died alone in a homeless camp. 'Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to Me.' "

photo by kkirugi

Matthew 25:31-45

New American Standard Bible (NASB)

The Judgment

³¹ “But when the Son of Man comes in His glory, and all the angels with Him, then He will sit on His glorious throne. ³² All the nations will be gathered before Him; and He will separate them from one another, as the shepherd separates the sheep from the goats; ³³ and He will put the sheep on His right, and the goats on the left.
³⁴ “Then the King will say to those on His right, ‘Come, you who are blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. ³⁵ For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in; ³⁶  naked, and you clothed Me; I was sick, and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me.’ ³⁷ Then the righteous will answer Him, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry, and feed You, or thirsty, and give You something to drink? ³⁸ And when did we see You a stranger, and invite You in, or naked, and clothe You? ³⁹ When did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’ ⁴⁰  The King will answer and say to them, ‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.’
⁴¹ “Then He will also say to those on His left, ‘ Depart from Me, accursed ones, into the eternal fire which has been prepared for the devil and his angels; ⁴² for I was hungry, and you gave Me nothing to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me nothing to drink; ⁴³ I was a stranger, and you did not invite Me in; naked, and you did not clothe Me; sick, and in prison, and you did not visit Me.’ ⁴⁴ Then they themselves also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry, or thirsty, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not ^[a]take care of You?’ ⁴⁵ Then He will answer them, ‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to Me.’

 

The Lost Generation

My mother's generation is always lost.  None of the brothers and sisters have any sense of direction.   I could not drop my mother at a mall and expect her to find the ntrance later so that I could pick her up.  We learned to find mall entrances that were named.  That way she could ask people how to find that exit and know when she reached the correct exit where I would be waiting.  Usually, I just went with her.  It was much faster because I could go directly to whatever store she wanted to shop in.  I found out that alone she meandered through the mall periodically asking directions and backtracking frequently.  She was not disturbed by this, I think, because she had done it for too many years.

My mother is gone, but her younger sisters and two brothers survive.  I keep an eye on my 88 year old aunt., Sue.  Sue lives alone, still works three days a week, and is even worse than my mother about directions.  In the grocery store, she will turn back to the aisle she has previously visited because she has no sense of which overall way she should be heading.  I shop with her just to save time.  Sue has shopped in the same store for the last five years but will still get lost.  She copes well.  She simply heads in one direction until she reaches a landmark or an employee.

As it turns out, the men are just as directionally challenged.  When my grandmother died at age 96, all her sons and daughters were alive and came to the cemetery located in a very rural area of Central Texas.  Her three sons decided to visit the old home place (where they grew up) which was not far from the cemetery.  When the rest of the family realized the three planned to go together, intervention was called for.  My uncle by marriage was dispatched to go with them and to bring them back to the church where a luncheon had been prepared.  Lunch was well underway before my uncles returned.   My uncle by marriage came in and sat down with a sigh. "I will never do that, again.  Joe(my grandmother's middle son) can't drive and none of them know where they are or where they are going."

Photo by Lewsisms

Now to the present.  I usually take my Aunt Sue shopping, but in the last week I have been ill and told by my doctor to take it easy.  My cousin,Gene, 55, who is profoundly autistic, was home with his mother, my Aunt Sue, for a week.  My aunt and my cousin were invited to swim at Kathy's (another cousin's) home.  All went well with swimming and pizza.  Then. my uncle, Ralph, who lives with his daughter, Kathy, and her husband, offered to take Aunt Sue, his sister, home.  Sue asked if they could stop by Walmart on the way home.  "No problem,' Ralph responded.  Kathy overheard and took action.  She told her father how to get to the store and carefully wrote out the directions to the Walmart nearest Sue's apartment.  The store was on the way to Sue's apartment.  She handed Uncle Ralph the directions.  He insisted they were not necessary, but she made him take them.

Ralph, Sue and Gene (in the back seat) headed to Walmart.  Soon they were nearing the area where the store should be located. Neither Ralph or Sue could remember Kathy's directions, neither really knew where they were, and neither could find the written directions.  With Gene (who cannot speak)  protesting, but unable to tell them they were off course, they continued on.  At the time, Ralph and Sue assumed Gene wanted to go home.  Later, it dawned on my aunt that he had known they had missed Walmart.  Gene quieted, I am sure realizing that he could not help.  After several attempts at finding the store, they gave up and proceeded to Sue's apartment with the aid of  Ralph's GPS device.  Only there did they find Kathy's carefully written instructions.  My aunt had been sitting on them the whole time.

The saga of the lost generation continues.

(Names changed to protect the directionally challenged.)

Memories of Childhood

I think of my childhood as fairly normal until I talk to someone about it.  Seems they find having a bone disease that puts you in a wheelchair and a schizophrenic mother rather odd.   I always think my childhood ended when my mother's schizophrenia was diagnosed.  I was 13 years old.   At 18, I  committed my mother to the state hospital for the insane. After treatment. I brought her home again and made her my responsibility for the rest of her life.

Navajo child photo by Neeta Lind

When I look back I realize there were other odd things in my childhood.  I lived in Austin, Texas but I had a Navajo playmate when I was five.  Texans had done an excellent job of removing Native Americans from Texas.  Early Texans either killed Native Americans or married them.  I have a Cherokee and Choctaw ancestor.  I never thought that having a Native American playmate was odd.  His mother and my mother were friends. What struck me as odd was that his name was Norman.  His family moved away and my mother lost track of them.  I wonder what Norman is doing now.

When I was four, I remember being downtown shopping with my mother.  After much whining on my part, she bought me candy cigarettes.  Hey, this was the fifties: smoking was cool.  My mother only allowed me one.  I was very miffed about that.  I got my revenge ( totally unplanned, I swear) in the elevator of the only department store in Austin.  As the doors on the elevator closed on a full elevator,  I turned to mother and said "Give me my cigarettes."  Mother did not flinch although the elevator was now silent.  She looked at me and said "No."  She did not explain the situation to a bunch of strangers.  I did learn she had felt some consternation when she told my paternal grandmother what had happened.   I did not get the "cigarettes" until we were home.  I never remember having another pack.

I was a smart kid, but it took me a long time to realize that.  I always expected to fail the next test in school.  I  never did.   I just thought I was lucky but weird.  As an adult, I know I am just weird.  Most days that does not bother me.

Abortion is the Issue

Most of my family and many of my friends are conservative evangelicals.  That is a function of where I live: a state where Southern Baptists predominate.  Sad to say, most are one issue voters and that issue is abortion because their church tells them you are not a Christian if you do not want the government to end legal abortions. I belonged to evangelical church for many years, even though I was a liberal Christian.  My evangelical church narrowed its beliefs until there was no place for me.  Evangelicals in general seemed to me to have become less accepting.  I  moved to another denomination where my views are accepted, but not necessarily believed by all.

I do not know when a clump of cells changes to a person.  I personally would never have had an abortion unless my life was  in danger.  At my age now, the question is moot.  At some point in a pregnancy, I believe it is morally wrong to terminate the pregnancy because the fetus has acquired a soul.  However, I do not believe I have the right to impose my personal belief about abortion on others.  I certainly do not believe that the government has any right to impose anyone's religious beliefs about abortion on others.  I am pro-choice and anti-government interference.

Conservative evangelicals ignore the science of biology.  Theirs is an anti-intellectual mindset.  From their viewpoint, a fertilized egg has acquired a soul and therefore should not be destroyed.  Never mind that studies have shown that over 70% of all fertilized eggs do not implant during a woman's lifetime.  I do not think that God is wasting 70% of all souls.  The God I know is not so capricious.

I want to stress that conservative evangelicals have been taught that ensoulment begins when sperm meets egg by their churches for so long that it is accepted as fact.  I have had discussions on this issue with my family members and friends.  There is absolutely no reasoning with them.  I lose friends from such discussion.  My family members assume I am not a Christian and pray for my salvation.

Abortion is the single issue that always determines how conservative evangelicals vote.  If the abortion stance of all the candidates is the same, then conservative evangelicals will  choose who to vote for on the basis of other issues.   Evangelicals will knowingly vote against their own economic self-interests to choose a candidate who is anti-abortion.  I do not think that will change in 2012.

That's a Baptist Myth

Monday I picked up my 87 year old aunt at the dentist.  She had taken Special Transit Services there.  She needed to pick up medicine at her pharmacy and then do some grocery shopping.  This was no problem and the reason that I picked her up.

At the pharmacy we had to wait for one prescription to be filled.  At 87 she only takes three medications, two are for the same ailment bone loss.  The other is a very mild drug to reduce her blood pressure.  Her mind is sharp, she still works, and she lives alone.

Our conversation began innocuously.  We talked about what she needed at the store and her plans for the week.   I recently began attending a church that has communion every Sunday.  I told her I liked that.  She agreed having attended a country church with an eclectic membership that also had weekly communion.  Now my aunt attends a Baptist church.  Baptists have the Lord's Supper quarterly.  I have always thought that uncomfortably meager for an ordinance designed to make us one with Christ.  My aunt agreed.

Now you have to know that my whole family, including my aunt, are conservative fundamentalists.  That sounds redundant but trust me it is not.  I am the only one outside the fold of fundamentalism.   My rule at family gatherings is to never discuss religion.  I simply wander away when talk goes to areas I cannot agree with.  My mother was liberal, too.  I often asked her if she was sure she was related to these people.  She would smile and nod.  She was one of ten siblings.  I am an only child, but my extended family is huge, huge and conservative.

I love my aunt and know that I worry her immensely.  I once let slip that I did not believe in hell.  She prayed for me for months, afraid for my salvation.  I do not understand how your salvation can be threatened by the belief in the existence or non-existence of hell, but she sincerely believed it matter.  This slip took place not long after Southern Baptist voted for hell.  A question: Why would you vote for eternal torment?  Anyway, my aunt finally came to the conclusion that I was still saved despite my aberrant belief.  It probably helped that I am the one that looks after her.  I take her to the doctor.  I stay with her in the hospital.  After her knee replacement, I did all her grocery shopping and other chores.

Photo by htlcto

So now we are discussing the Lord's Supper  and she tells me that at the independent church she went to in the country, some of the members wanted to use wine instead of grape juice.  I muttered something about doing it both ways.  "Oh, no." she said.  "Jesus did not drink wine.  It was unfermented so it was just grape juice"  Without thinking I replied, "That's just a Baptist myth."

I knew from my aunt's expression that I was in trouble. I got a lecture on reading the scripture and believing the Bible.  She was absolutely positive that "fruit of the vine" at Passover was grape juice.  In my childhood church (Southern Baptist), I remember whole sermons devoted to this.  I knew better that to do anything more than say I would read up on what Jesus drank at his last meal.  That seemed to mollify her, but I suspect my salvation is once more a worry for her. 

Of course, I learned long ago that Jesus drank wine.  As a teenager, I investigated the unfermented wine hypothesis put forth by my childhood church and found it ridiculous. Jesus first miracle was to change water into wine.   I have always assumed his mother was so adamant that he make water into wine at the wedding at Cana because he and his buddies drank so much.  Jesus shared wine the last night of his life, not grape juice.  That he drank grape juice is a Baptist myth.

The Golden Idol

By Barry Blitt

We are a self-centered nation.  Our goal is wealth.  Our God has become the golden idol of gratification.. Our corporations, who we are told are people, look only at the bottom line, not the worker at the bottom.

Romney tells us he is for a "self-reliant" nation not an "entitlement" nation.  What does that mean?  Do we expect the disabled and the elderly to be "self-reliant?"  Does the GOP expect to send representatives to nursing homes to tell the residents they must be "self-reliant" and care for themselves?  Do they euthanize those that are not?   Oh, no, nothing that extreme Republicans would say.  But they would return Medicaid to the states without oversight.  States like Texas provide as little care as possible even with federal supervision.  Without federal oversight, nursing homes would become swift tickets to the mortuary.

 Christ told us there are only two commands.  Love God and love your neighbor.  How do you love your neighbor?  Christ answered that in many ways.  All touch my heart, but the ones that sear my soul are these:"For I (Christ) was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in.  I needed clothes and you clothed me. I was sick and you looked after me.  I was in prison and you visited me."   How do we make these words the truth?.   When we do for "one of the least of these brothers of mine."

How can we as Americans let the homeless sleep in the gutter?  How can we deny health care to those who cannot afford it?  We have a for profit prison industry which lobbies for laws that provide more prisoners for their facilities.  The health insurance industry makes money by denying care to the sick.  Republicans wish to repeal the law that went into effect this year that makes insurance companies use 80% of the money they collect in premiums for the health care of those paying the premiums.   Profits above lives. 

Too many flee to gated communities in fear of the other.  I believe Christ wants us to embrace the other.  Those that flee to those protected communities may find that another kind of evil has been locked up with them, a spiritual evil,  an evil that is only satisfied by avarice and separation.  

We need to become a nation that sees every person as too valuable to be lost.  We need to argue for future greatness not for protection of the status quo.  Our goal is should not be wealth. We must dethrone the golden idol of gratification.

Coming of Age

I had a pretty good childhood.  I did have a bone disease that left me wheelchair bound for a few years, but by the time I turned 13 I was walking.  That was when my mother had her first nervous breakdown as they called it in the 60's.  Actually, she had a full psychotic break because she was schizophrenic.  Nice to find out when you are 13 that your mother is really crazy.

I won't go into the details, but after a lengthy hospitalization my mother did come home and go back to work.  Part of her hospitalization time was spent at a private hospital that did nothing to help her but weekly reminded me, a 13 year old, that my mother had neglected herself to take care of me.  When her insurance ran out, Mother was transferred to the state hospital.  "Horrors!" everyone told us.  Yet it was in the state hospital that Mother received the treatment and the medication that let her function normally and subdued her illness.

Mother's siblings had initially helped us, but when my mother was transferred to the State Hospital and her insurance ran out, they offered no assistance. They did seek to have me made a ward of the state and removed from the only home I had known and the care of my paternal grandmother.  My paternal grandmother refused to go along with their scheme.  She held firmly to the belief that my mother would recover.  Luckily for me, Mom did.  My father lived in Michigan with his second wife and wanted nothing to do with his only child.  One aunt told me I could live with her family, clean, cook and care for the children and she would keep me from becoming a ward of the state.  Those were some scary times.

Mom came home and I expected life to return to normal.  It did not.  My grandmother continued to care for the house and cook, her favorite pastime.  Mother went back to work.   Yet, I suddenly was making all my own decisions as well as many for my mother.  My grandmother had gone to work when she was thirteen, she saw no reason to supervise me.  Mother no longer could or would.

I did not recognize the change for a while.  I remember my first dental visit after my mother's hospitalization.  My grandmother gave me a signed blank check and told me when the appointment was.  I rode my bike there, got my teeth checked and cleaned, and wrote the check.  I was a little nervous, but I had been to the dentist before.   What had changed hit home when it came time for me to choose courses for the next semester in junior high.  I brought home the materials but both my grandmother and mother told me to do what I wanted.  I did.  From that day forward, I never asked them about school matters.  My mom would sign my report card happily, but she did not meet with my teachers or discuss my schoolwork.  Years later, she told me she knew I was much harder on myself than she would ever be.

I stopped attending church soon after my mother's hospitalization.  The church had completely abandoned us during mother's illness.  The only ones that helped us at all were members of my grandfather's Masonic lodge who sent a little money and some school clothes for me.  By that time, too,  I had decided I was going to be a scientist. ( I had read too much science fiction.)  I was full of questions, especially questions about our Sunday School lessons.  The teacher usually ignored me, but finally I was told that I should not ask questions because that showed a lack of faith.  I left the church with no plans ever to return.  Mother did not like that I had stopped going to church, but she never returned to church after her illness.  There was too much stigma attached to mental illness for her to feel comfortable in that church.  Again, leaving the Baptist church was totally my decision.   In the sixteen years that followed, I became a deist.  I saw Christianity as incompatible with intellectual pursuits and certainly with science.

My grandmother gradually ceded decision making about the household to me.  We bought a car the summer I turned sixteen, and I learned to drive.  The agreement was that it was my car, but I must put taking my grandmother and mother where they needed to go first.  I drove it to school and anywhere else I wanted to.  Neither my grandmother or mother ever checked on where I went.

You would think that with all this freedom, I would have been a wild teenager,  After all, my teenage years were in the 1960's.  I knew about drugs, smoking and alcohol.  I never smoked.  I did not drink nor do drugs.  I simply was afraid of losing control of my mind.   As I told a friend, I never thought about misbehaving.  I focused on school and taking care of my mother.   Finances helped keep me on the straight and narrow.  Mother was a telephone operator.  We just barely made it month to month.  My grandmother's tiny Social Security check made the difference.   The one thing my mother put her foot down on was my working.  She would not let me do it.  Looking back, I see she was right.  I had my hands full with school and home responsibilities.

I came of age at thirteen in 1960.   I have made my own decisions since then.  I have taken care of both my grandmothers through their last years and final illnesses.  I took care of my mother until her death from complications of Parkinson's disease.  I made it through college and worked all the while.  I possess a Bachelor of Science degree, a doctorate in chemistry and a law degree.   I would make some different choices for myself, but not the one's that pertain to my grandmothers and mother.  I do wish I could have enjoyed being a teenager more.

A Christmas Day Miracle 2011

Photo by Mike_fleming

I fixed Christmas dinner for my aunt, her autistic son, Henry, and her irrational son, Drew, and his wife, Ann. Henry and Drew are in their fifties.  I am some years older.   My aunt is 87 years old and preparation of a major dinner is beyond her.   This year it was almost beyond me.  Two weeks before Christmas, I caught a cold.  One week before Christmas, I had pneumonia.  I got the pneumonia treated and was told I could safely prepare and serve Christmas dinner.

I did not feel up to grocery shopping until Friday.  I went first to a high end grocery store that stocks nothing practical, but does have good produce and a great variety.  I purchased all my produce there, but the free range turkeys must have been gold-plated considering their cost.  That sent me on to my regular grocery where a purchased a fresh Butterball turkey.  I paid a little more for the Butterball, but I was still annoyed at the Thanksgiving Islamic bigotry that led to an internet smear of  Butterball.  I also purchased paper plates, plastic cups, pretty napkins and plastic flatware.  I was finished by 3 pm and totally exhausted.

I did not trust myself to be able to rise early Christmas morning to prepare the whole dinner, so I decided to to most of the cooking on the day before Christmas. I cooked the turkey, smashed potatoes with broccoli, and Brussels sprouts, then headed to church for Christmas eve services.  The next morning, I rose at seven to prepare the cornbread dressing including sauteing the onions and celery in butter.  I used the broth from cooking the gizzard, liver, heart, and neck as the liquid for the dressing.  I chopped the same parts to include in the dressing.  I did this because my aunt said Drew had ordered her to make homemade cornbread dressing because he had decided I would make bread dressing.  Once 30 years ago, I served bread dressing, but if something offends Drew, he never forgets.  She said that with Henry home she could not make the dressing.  I assured her I would make my best cornbread dressing.  Of course, Christmas Day it turned out she had made dressing because she is so intimidated by Drew.  She did not bother to tell me, so I did all that work for nothing. I was hurt and angry when I found out.  More about that later.

Around eleven, I loaded everything into the car to take to my aunt's apartment for Christmas dinner along with small presents for all.  I am so broke these days that I usually eat Ramen noodles 5 or 6 times a week.   This dinner was only possible because friends gave me money for Christmas.  My aunt and Henry were in church.( I did not attend my church's services because I was cooking that dressing.)  I have a key to her apartment, so I let myself in and unloaded all the fixings.  By noon, I had the turkey carved and the meat reheated, all the side dishes warmed, and the table set with festive paper plates and plastic cups.  This was important because Henry eats on a tight schedule.  He has to sit down to eat at noon.  Christmas Day he entered the apartment at noon already alarmed that he was late.  But because I had everything ready, he could quickly change clothes and come to the table where I had his plate waiting.  My aunt had decided to eat with Drew and Ann because of Drew's attitude.  She requested that I do the same.  I fixed a small plate of salad and sat and ate with Henry.  He was content.  My day seemed complete at that point.

My aunt called Drew and reached Ann.  They were just leaving home even though they had been told we planned to eat at noon.  Drew is never on time and in the past has been deliberately late because he knows it upsets Henry.  Drew and Ann live in the country so they were at least 45 minutes away.  Henry was happy to stay on schedule and went to his room to lay down until three.  My aunt dithered about what to do next. while I reset the table.  She finally put away the fresh fruit I had brought her for Christmas.

Drew and Ann arrived a little after one.  Drew would not take off his jacket.  The apartment was warm.  He proceeded to tell us about his last work trip.  He is a truck driver.  He gave us a detailed rundown of every highway and every stop he made.  He totally ignored all the preparation activity as we reheated everything.  The food was on the island so that we could go around and serve ourselves.  We did, but not Drew.  He sat down and continued his comments on his last week of driving.  After she served herself, Ann had to prepare his plate and set it in front of him.  He seemed oblivious to the food.

My aunt interrupted Dre4w long enough for me to say the blessing.  I had expected my aunt to do that but she deferred to me.  Drew continued his monologue all through dinner, but he did eat very slowly.   When Ann made a comment about an area in Oklahoma that she had previously traveled with him, he took that as a personal affront. The conversation had been dismal, but it got worse.  Drew was telling Ann how little she knew when my aunt, his mother, interrupted.  Drew turned and told her "Shut up, I'm talking" in a loud, abusive tone.  That was too much for me.  Drew and I exchanged words,
and he did half apologize to his mother.  (My aunt never wants me to say anything to upset Drew, but there are limits.)

The rest of the dinner went better although Drew spent some time talking loudly to wake Henry.   Henry did come in for a few minutes to grin at Drew who he adores.   Drew finally removed his jacket when he headed for the bathroom, having announced his destination to all.  He dropped his jacket on the floor by my aunt's chair.  Ann was quick though and picked it up before my aunt noticed.  Ann and I cleared the table, then everyone moved into the living room.  My aunt returned to the kitchen and I followed her.  That was when I discovered she had made dressing and concealed it from me, but made sure Drew had some. That was when I lost it.  I told her how put upon I felt and that if she had told me I would not have been up making dressing that morning.  I did not tell that I could have attended Christmas services, but I thought that.   She realized that this day was rapidly becoming a bad scene for me.  She apologized and I accepted that, but I had really been hurt by her thoughtlessness and behavior.

Something happened then that changed the day.  My aunt and I had not raised our voices, but Henry must have heard us anyway.  As I went back to putting food away, there was Henry looking worried.  He reached out and hugged me while he nodded and looked me straight in the eye.   Henry had never hugged me before.  His autism makes it difficult to make normal human contact.  He does not make eye contact.  Yet there he was comforting me.  Nothing mattered  anymore.  It was a wonderful Christmas.

Could Jesus Vote in 2012?

Many states have enacted a law to require a photo ID before you can vote. Republicans say a photo ID prevents voter fraud, but statistics show that voter fraud is almost nonexistent. The true purpose of a voter ID law is to disenfranchise the old, the poor and the disabled; all of whom would not vote as Republicans want.

Why do I believe this?

Because I was raised in Texas and remember the poll tax. My Yankee grandmother moved to Texas with my native Texan mother after WWII. My grandmother was shocked to discover she had to pay to vote. I can remember my mother explaining the pernicious nature of the poll tax. The poll tax was designed to keep the poor and especially African Americans from voting. The poll tax was successful.

The 24th amendment to the constitution of the United States was passed to end the poll tax. President Lyndon Johnson said, "There can be no one too poor to vote." Republicans want to put lie to that.

Now, to vote you will need a driver's license or state photo ID to vote. Proponents of the Voter ID law say that these ID's are now free.  These ID's are not available at the corner grocer.  You  must be able to go to your local driver's license office and wait a considerable length of time to have your photo taken for the ID.  If you are old, infirm or poor, especially if you don't have a car, this becomes a daunting task. Just as in the past, when the poll tax could only be purchased in the courthouse downtown, now the modern poll tax will be just as hard to access for the portion of the population that Republicans want to disenfranchise.

Photo by Dan Young Wausau Daily Herald

Many of the disenfranchised may lack the documentation necessary to get a photo ID.  In one Wisconsin case, an elderly woman who has voted for years and served in public office lacks the proper documentation and will have to go to court to get it at considerable cost.  My own paternal grandmother did not have a birth certificate because she was born on a farm in rural Wisconsin.

Jesus told us that "whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me".  When we deprive the poor, the disabled, the ex-convict ,the elderly of the right to vote, we deprive Jesus.  In 2012, could Jesus vote in your state?.

Leaving Home

I have been a Baptist since I was eleven when I was dunked.  I walked away from church when I was a teenager unable to reconcile my thirst for knowledge, especially science, and my church's admonition that questions were a sign of lack of faith.

I went on the receive a Ph.D. in chemistry at twenty-five.  I spent the next four years working and learning about other great religions.  Of all I studied, I had the most affinity for a form of Hinduism that was prevalent in northern India.  Still, none made me wish to practice their faith.

I was an insatiable science fiction reader at the time.  I still love the genre.  I had read the Narnia Chronicles as a child, but had ignored the religious implications.  Now, I found the science fiction trilogy by C. S. Lewis and read all three books.  I found another one of his books, The Screwtape Letters, in with the science fiction at a used book store.  I bought it and read it.  For whatever reason, the book turned me back to Christianity.

I was not that sure I wanted to be a Christian, but I decided to give it another try.  This time I chose the most liberal Baptist Church in my city led by a brilliant preacher.  I joined a study group of people my age led by a philosophy major.  Our discussions were wide open.  Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis was one of the books we studied that year.

By the end of that year, I was sure I wanted to follow Christ.  I have never regretted that decision although I have come to regret remaining a Baptist.

I helped start a new Baptist church that was to be a "grace" church emphasizing God's love and mercy and essentially non-denominational.  Over the years as it became a mega church, my church has become less open and more conventionally Baptist.  Four years ago,  members who I mistakenly thought were friends, considered my bout with clinical depression a failure of my faith, not an illness.  I learned that the one thing Baptists are most afraid of being asked is for money to help one of their own who is having problems with mental illness.  As my pastor (he had retired because of health reasons) often said, "Baptist shoot their wounded."  These friends thought by not helping me they were making me to stand on my own two feet.  Were it not for an ex-Mormon friend and a Catholic therapist, I would be dead.

I have made many mistakes in my life, but the biggest was trying to stay in that church.  I went home most Sundays and cried.  Finally, my car got totaled when I was rear-ended,  I could not afford another car, so I stopped going to church.  My church was a long way from my home and the city bus services did not run out that far.  I know, this looks suspiciously like divine intervention to keep me home.  No one called or inquired why I stopped coming to church.  The church I helped found thirty years before did not know that I existed anymore.

After a few months, I was removed from my Sunday School class' email list.  I had not asked to be removed and had stayed in touch through that email.  If I had not been seeing a therapist, I would have killed myself that day.  He forced me to face the reality that I did not fit in that class and shared few beliefs with them.  He urged anger instead of grief.

A year has gone by without me attending church except for the few occasions when I have taken my aunt to an activity or service at her very traditional Baptist church.  The people there are quite wonderful and have taken her in, accepted her autistic son, and helped her financially.  They are less affluent than most in my church, but more generous.  However, women are second-class members and the sermons leave me cold.

Photo by jeffk

After some searching and  a great deal of prayer, I realized there was not a Baptist church in this city that I wanted to attend.  I began looking for a better fit for me.  I think God has guided me to such a place in a Christian (Disciples of Christ) church.  I have been attending a downtown church with a small congregation and  a woman pastor.  If all goes as planned, I will join on New Year's Day.  I will no longer be a Baptist.  I will have left home.

Therapist Request

photo by rikki's refuge

My therapist wants me to write my memoir.  I think it would be a waste of time.  I have spent my life making mistakes.  I do not want to memorialize them.  As a fall back, he suggested I write about episodes in my life.   He has managed to pull me back from planning my demise constantly to just occasionally thinking about how nice it would be to be dead..  The problem is I am not sure I agree that is progress, but he does.  I did make him one promise: the next time I do implement a suicide plan it will be successful.  I won't go through the last few years again.

So my first childhood story.  I don't know how much is my own memory and how much my mother and grandmother told me.

When I was three, our landlord owned an aggressive hound named Roland.  He had to be chained because he jumped for people's throats.  He loved our landlord and was not aggressive with him.

I loved Roland.  My mother did not think I was old enough for a pet, so all I had was Roland.   I was small, Roland was large for a hound.  Of course, no one knew I played with him regularly until my mother came home from class (she attended college on the GI bill) and saw me riding him around his yard.  I was told never to do that again, but of course, I did.

I was given a child's croquet set for my third birthday.  I was not impressed with croquet, but I did like hitting things with the small croquet mallet, a stick about a foot long with a small spool sized, balsa wood end.

Roland and I developed a new game.  I would pound him over the head with the mallet until he grew tired.  Roland then would seize the stick in his mouth to make me stop.  I would hang on to the mallet and he would hold on too.  We would stand for some time until Roland released the stick and I would pound him again.  He was free to move away at anytime, but he never did.  We always stood in the same place in his yard.  I don't know how often we played the game.  I just remembering standing with him holding my end of the mallet several times.

One day, my mother saw us.  I don't know what upset her more: the fact her child was beating an animal or that her child was aggravating a dog with a proven bite record.  She called to me.  I tugged on the mallet and Roland released it as I knew he would.   I went to her.  She scolded me for hitting Roland and took the mallet away.  I never saw it again.  I was told to stay away from Roland.  I did for the rest of that day.

We moved within that year to married student housing for the University of Texas.  My dad had divorced my mother and married another woman when I was one.  I do not remember seeing him ever.  My paternal grandmother had moved in with my mother to help her financially and care for me while mother went to college.  So the "we" is my paternal grandmother, my mother, and me..

Sometime after we moved, Roland bit someone quite badly and was put down.  I think he was simply shot.  I did not find out about his death until several years later.

I will always remember Roland, my first dog.

The Soulless Shell of a Once Great Nation

Republicans have hatched a grand scheme to shrink the size of government and destroy the social safety net. Their plan is simple: make raising the debt ceiling a big deal by tying it to deficit reduction and then House Republicans will not vote to raise the debt ceiling unless deadly cuts are made to Medicare, Social Security and Medicaid.

Historically raising the debt has been perfunctory, a matter of housekeeping because no new obligations are incurred by raising the debt ceiling. The ability to continue to make payments on obligations already incurred is affected. The failure to raise the debt ceiling would cause a fiscal crisis for the United States and the world.  The United States would no longer be the greatest nation on Earth.

Are Republicans crazy enough to carry out their scheme?  Yes.  Even the sane among Republicans approve the strategy because they believe the President and Democrats are sane and responsible.   The sane Republicans (I am beginning to doubt there are any) believe the President and Democrats will give in to demands by the Republicans to destroy the safety net because the President and Democrats do not want to drive this nation off the cliff. The irony will be that in trying to save us now, the Democrats kill our future.

The scheme has turned into a grand game for Republicans aimed at destroying Medicare (so insurance companies can drain senior's pockets), Social Security (make people work until they die) and Medicaid (without health care the disabled and frail elderly die and are not a drain on society). Republicans are enjoying themselves.   Sadly, some Democrats have joined the game as co-conspirators. 

Republicans believe the fewer with jobs the better because eventually people will take any job at any wage to live.  Hence, no job creation bills.  Republicans aim to create an underclass to serve the rich.  Only those who are strong and healthy will survive to spend their lives toiling at work paying the minimum wage. (\Republicans will do away with the minimum wage as soon as possible and see that only subsistence wages are paid.)  The United States of America will be the soulless shell of a once great nation.  August 2, 2011 will be the anniversary of the beginning of the end.