I’m wondering if it’s the same people complaining about their kids getting shortchanged out of all things school-related who are also among the sizeable legion of those who have put up a stink all along the way about everything Covid—masks, distancing, other precautions, the demons at CDC and NIH, the dangerous vaccines, not to mention doubting the virus’s very existence.

Sorry, folks. You can’t turn your noses up at everything you could have been doing and then shit on those who have actually been working the problem and trying to keep people safe this whole friggin’ time.

Well, you can, but you just end up looking and sounding like schmucks.

January 1, 2022- wow. Just another day, though.

Really. It’s just the next day in a series of days that should find us contemplating our chances for continued viability. Gun violence everywhere, hardly a winter (so far) in places where winter traditionally is expected. A country full of stubborn “freedom fighters” who find vaccines a bridge too far.

As tragic as the Boulder area fire is, it shouldn’t surprise anyone. As freakish as it may have been, wild fires are indiscriminate destroyers of whatever is in their paths—whether pine forests or houses built in places where houses probably shouldn’t be built.

Of course, non-hurricane winds over 100 miles per hour should have us questioning how and why such speeds were attained. It seems our long-entrenched habits and wildly unrealistic, self-absorbed expectations are no match for the forces being unleashed around us. In fact, our habits and expectations and indifference have in no small part brought all this on.

As I recall my walk through a regional shopping mall a while back, it’s difficult not to think about Jesus’ words from Matthew 6, the passage one would hear as Lent begins, about storing up treasures on earth and in heaven. It is quite apparent that moths and rust are consuming the earthly inventory of stuff we thought we needed until we didn’t anymore.

          The empty storefronts and retail ghost towns are testament to an inherent short-sightedness and unbridled avarice, an embrace of inflated promises and immediate pleasures with little regard for the environment or prudent land use. A classic, timeless example of “getting while the getting is good.”

          It’s what will always happen when consumption, and being consumers, rules supreme. The economic engine in its current configuration has an unquenchable need for fuel, gobbling up resources with reckless abandon, rendering expendable people’s’ livelihoods, and rendering irrelevant certain ways of doing business. Some will say these are mere casualties of progress. Nonetheless it is ruthless and impersonal. And, sadly, what appears to matter most.

          So there will continue to be a need for what the church offers when it’s at its best: open doors, open hearts, open minds, and Christ-like compassion.

Merry Christmas.

The Protestant Reformation ushered in change of seismic proportion. One could argue that it was change born of necessity, born in response to abusive power. It was change whose time had come. Martin Luther and the other reformers took exception to the status quo, dared to be faithful to interpretations of scripture that had somehow been lost or buried amidst the typically human tendency toward making it “all about me.”

What a rotten philosophy, mantra, whatever you want to call it. It is an infection that seeks to permeate every aspect of our lives. It is an appeal to our basest instincts. Advertisers and marketers have long known about and exploited it. People in high places are poisoned by it, their judgment clouded by it.

And, one could argue, it is responsible for our fear and loathing of change. If everything is always “about me,” then control is what we seek. And change that doesn’t suit is unwelcome.

Faith, in contrast, gives up control. It resets our bearings, helps us see and feel differently, and act on behalf of others. Change isn’t necessarily any easier, just less threatening.

I realize there’s no going back to the days before the tech explosion, and I have no desire to do that. But there is something about gadget saturation that’s not sitting well with me. I’ve been trying to put my finger on it for a long time, and the best I can come up with is that there’s a downside to the whole concept of “virtual.”

          The brilliant designers and marketers of the world have succeeded in flooding the marketplace with devices we didn’t know we needed and which we now apparently can no longer live without.

          Frankly, I can’t imagine not carrying a phone in my pocket, simply for the convenience and connectivity it offers. And there is something about the elegance and workmanship and functionality of my iPad that would make it difficult to give up. There is a certain seduction to it all.

          Still, I can’t shake the feeling that all this gadgetry is creating a sort of shadow world that distracts and dulls and leads to disengagement and coldness.

I imagine that any cord-cutters and those who have never owned a cell phone or a computer who have stumbled upon this blog post are feeling validated. This isn’t my intent. There is certainly a place for the wondrous capabilities at our disposal– as we may have realized over the last two years or so.

It’s just that there’s also a place for setting boundaries and recognizing that dependence on our gadgets is its own sort of prison. And the world it draws us into is not always as advertised. It’s described as “virtual” for a reason.

          No doubt, many of us hold our religious beliefs close to our heart. We all harbor a certain self-righteousness- we know what we believe and no one can tell us otherwise. Even if we believe that there is no God.

          In just about every religion, there is some sort of directive or at least desire to make converts. Jesus at one point sends his disciples out with the command to spread the gospel, to evangelize, but also to shake the dust off their feet and move on if people didn’t welcome them.

          There is no mention that I am aware of that directs these messengers to make converts at any cost and by any means including coercion, threats, intimidation, and heartless violence. What kind of convert can one expect to gain by employing such means? What kind of god rewards such behavior, or is even worth worshiping?

          One could say Jesus was a martyr, too. He died for his faith, out of conviction, obedient to the end. He, too, wielded a sword, though it took the form of words that cut like a knife, and actions that simultaneously enraged some and brought many others to faith.

          Jesus was motivated by love. He embodied love. One would be hard pressed to say the same about acts of terrorism. Those who would make themselves judge, jury, and executioner are not motivated by love, but by something more primal, less evolved, and much less useful.

          As we soon arrive at Christmas, we may be reminded of the words from Isaiah 9: “For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace“- an Old Testament text that Christians have appropriated as being descriptive of Jesus, who wouldn’t come along for another 600 years or so.

          In any event, may the coming season both alert us to Jesus’ coming and his presence among us, as we yearn and search for that peace that surpasses all understanding.

Kudos to the European Space Agency and their ten-year effort at catching up with a heavenly body hurtling through space at around forty thousand mph, landing a washing machine-sized laboratory on it, and beaming back high resolution pictures so all of us can at some level share the experience.

            This happened 7 years ago, and other countries and agencies have accomplished similar things since. Still, this whole enterprise is mind-boggling. It is what scientists do, though- they accept monumental challenges, take what looks like a pipe dream and an impossibility and turn it into reality. They figure things out– often enough by trial and error– and learn from their mistakes. They utilize formulas and equations and measurements. They do the math, finding confirmation that they can trust these things.

I think this is what makes the response to all things Covid so disheartening and just plain frustrating. People with no clue are deciding the CDC folks and public health officials are off their rocker, that they’re feeding the country a crock. They instead believe others who claim that rights have been violated. That this whole assault on our “normal” lives is the fast track to a “nanny state,” a freedom issue, rather than a time to trust the people whose life’s work is solving problems, taming seemingly insurmountable challenges, and learning things that improve and save lives.

This will be among the things that, if and when we have the chance to look back at what worked and what didn’t, heads will shake at the thought of how and why people could be so self-absorbed, and so ignorant. Mind-boggling for a different reason.

Resilience.   It’s a quality we often marvel at in people who face uphill battles with disease or loss or some other challenge—the ability to bounce back, to work through, to weather the storm with faith challenged but intact. Or even increased.

            We might wonder how they do it.

            One thing is for certain: they don’t face their trials and tribulations alone.

            Let’s take a look at the Book of Job, an Old Testament book that comes right before the Book of Psalms.   Job, as the story goes, was a blessed man, faithful and upright. He had a large family, lots of land and livestock and beasts of burden.

One day, in an avalanche of bad news, Job learns that all his livestock, beasts of burden, servants (save the ones who report the news), and all 10 children have been killed.  Job tears his clothes, shaves his head, and goes into mourning. But he doesn’t curse God.

            The added wrinkle in this story comes from knowing that all this devastation is wrought at the hands of ha satan– “the adversary”- with God’s knowledge.

            This may be one reason why the Book of Job continues to resonate with readers—it is an ancient attempt at wrestling with the age-old questions about suffering, why bad things happen to good people. And why God seems to let it happen.

Returning to the text, Job’s response to the first round of assaults on his happiness is not what the adversary expects (he had suggested to God that Job’s faith, when tested, would crumble quicker than graham crackers under a rolling pin).  So the ante is upped. A second round of affliction is sent Job’s way, this time involving a horrendous malady that covers him with sores from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

            By the time his three friends arrive, their mission being to console him, Job is the epitome of misery. His friends sit in complete silence for 7 days and nights, speechless in the presence of such ghastly suffering.

            If we fast-forward to the end of the book, we see that Job’s life is restored. He has ten more children, his livestock, beasts of burden, and servants are doubled from what he initially had. And he lives for 140 more years.

            How nice and neat, we might think. But what in the world was the purpose for everything that happened in between?

            Maybe we get hung up because we need a purpose. We need a reason. We need to know that, as depicted in Gary Larson’s classic Far Side cartoon, God isn’t sitting at his computer, ready to hit the “Smite” button. We just have to know that everything will make sense… which it doesn’t and won’t. There are no good reasons why 3-year olds die of cancer (it’s definitely not because God needs another angel in heaven!), or a 31-year old, 8-months-pregnant woman and her 9-year old son get swept away in a flood.            

Our fallen condition, genetics, cause and effect, actions and consequences—these are the dry, mechanical reasons, not to mention valid. But often times we’re struggling at a much deeper level– hoping for a more satisfying explanation so we can find peace?

One might argue that there may not be any satisfying answers to why people suffer, and why God doesn’t seem to be anywhere close by. We might label this a mystery, or a failure, or a ruse.

Answers that satisfy may or may not ever come.

Money is often lumped in with religion and politics as items we don’t like talking about. So let’s include it in a larger discussion of possessions and recognizing the source of our blessings, along with an understanding that stewardship is and always has been bigger than the money we give to a church.

Being good stewards is being mindful of the needs of others. It means opening our ears to the discussion surrounding fair and equitable wages- and not necessarily the $15/hr-plus that has materialized since Covid-19 landed. I’m talking about the laborer in Ecuador or Guatemala working for peanuts and as a result making it possible for us to buy bananas for a palatable 49 cents a pound, on special.  

Being a good steward means, at a more personal and challenging level, shifting our understanding of terms like “scarcity” and “abundance” and “sufficiency.” It means moving the line when it comes to what we understand to be “enough.”

We will get zero help from the army of marketers who do their demographic studies and view us primarily as consumers. With enviable though misplaced zeal, they will do their best to convince us that there is no such thing as “enough.”

The New Horizons fly-by of Pluto a while back, with its accompanying transmission of amazing photos, has once again given me reason to pause and contemplate a variety of things- from human resourcefulness to the mind-blowing distances and speed covered and sustained with the help of a small amount of nuclear fuel in a baby grand piano-sized spacecraft.

          It took a vehicle that could travel from central PA to Toledo, OH in roughly 1 minute… nine and a half years to travel the 3 billion miles to Pluto. If it were traveling at a speed of only 60 mph, it would take seven thousand years to get there.

          In the Colorado Scale Model of the Solar System, the Sun being the size of a grapefruit, earth would be roughly the size of a pinhead about 50 feet away. Pluto would be the size of a flake of ground pepper about 2000 feet away. And the nearest star- Alpha Centauri- would be about 2500 miles away. All this within our own solar system and Milky Way galaxy.

          Meanwhile, here on earth, a cacophony of voices competes for our attention- or rattles on on behalf of inflated egos- in the midst of contentious legislative debates and a relentless pandemic.

          We argue over what makes for patriotism. We try to navigate amidst homegrown terrorism, growing income inequality, reactive and politically motivated speeches on all sorts of issues. Vicious storms, hot summers, snowless winters, budget stalemates. La nina. Lions and tigers and…

          Looking at a stunning EPIC photo of earth from a million miles out, one might think all is well on this magnificent blue and white marble. Looks are deceiving.

          We spend not enough time looking up, though. Sure, we need to pay attention to what’s in front of us- the needs of our families, various social ills, environmental stewardship. The list can quickly grow long and formidable. And it is difficult to appreciate or contemplate our place in the universe when life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness seem to be passing us by.

Perhaps we could all benefit from a pause in the raucous debates, in the stinging barbs, in the uninformed assumptions, in the misdirected anger. Call a truce, as in that fabled suspension of battle in WW I, on Christmas Eve, when the warring sides emerged from their entrenchment, left their positions, and shared a moment of… peace?

Makes me wonder, if this actually happened, how they could go back and pick up where they left off.