So far, the two Mormons make sense

September 12, 2011

For those who missed Monday night’s Republican debate, here it is:

  • Reduce spending
  • Cut taxes
  • Reduce regulation

For those  who missed the first Republican debate:

  • Reduce spending
  • Cut taxes
  • Reduce regulation

For those who will miss the next Republican debate:

  • guess what?

So far, the two Mormons make sense. Everyone else plays to the audience and is missing something along the lines of competency.

Also, check the body language to see who has the confidence to move forward. Romney and Huntsman look at who is talking. Bachmann looks as though the guy who’s talking just ran over her dog, seething with no eye contact whatsoever.

If Obama goes belly up, the guy with the smirk, W redux, had better not be the one.  Ye gods and little fishes, once was enough, and it will take generations to recover from that one without fueling the fire again.

But I’m a Christian first!

September 12, 2011

Note: If you are really pleased with the Catholic Church as it is today, you may not want to  read any further.

 

There was an unexpected comment from inside a prison cell during my visit on Wednesday of last week:

“The one religion I have no use for is Catholic.” He’s Muslim.

“Really?” I said

“Catholics are creepy! All that sexual abuse of kids.”

“You know, I’m Catholic.”

“You are?”

“But I’m a Christian first!”

Ever since that exchange (and we did continue talking), I have wondered what prompted me to say that. My not identifying with the institutional church is certainly part of it. Wondering what bishops, cardinals, and the pope bring to the party is another part.

The thing that keeps me in the Catholic faith is that there is nowhere else to go. Also, I need to remember the influence of the Sacraments and of our tradition upon who I have become … along with God’s grace.

I’m simply not big on the hierarchy and all the pomp and trappings that go with it. I still imagine Jesus roaming around the Vatican or any diocesan office wondering how all this came out of his demonstrating and talking about leading a humble and loving life.

Our local bishop provides ceremonial, administrative, and managerial support to the faith communities in the archdiocese. That is good and necessary. But I don’t look to him for guidance in matters of faith and morals. I look to the members of our faith community under the guidance of our pastors.

To me, the bishops in this country have nothing to say. Perhaps they will someday, but for now their voice lacks credibility and is usually out of step with those in the pews. The corporate  insensitivity and cover-ups displayed toward the sexual abuse of our children can never be excused. Forgiven by some, but never excused.

I believe to be a good Catholic is to be a good Christian, to follow Jesus in his words and actions, to hear and keep the gospel message. Is that what we see and hear from the hierarchy? No.  What we see and hear is exclusion, intolerance, arrogance, a group that is tone-deaf, a group that fails to listen to the faithful (at least those of us without money).

We see and hear from the hierarchy an asymmetrical view of the human experience, an undue focus on sexual issues rather than on loving relationships. Other things in their portfolio of issues include abortion, gays, maintaining 7 Sacraments for men and only 6 Sacraments for women. Gee, that last issue said that way smacks of theological ignorance, except we know it’s all about power anyway and theology has nothing to do with it.

The U.S. bishops’ bi-annual inserting of themselves into the political process is nonsense and, as we have seen, can cause much damage through encouraging voting for those who are insufficiently pro-live, voting for those care more for the unborn than for breathing citizens in need. I should say that they claim to care for the unborn.

Our bishops also encouraged voting for and electing an administration filled with fear and vengeance rather than hope and forgiveness. But unthinking conservatism doe spawn more unthinking conservatism, and election time is just around the corner once more. The archbishop before this one thought the war in Iraq was a “just” war. And so it goes.

I could go on, but a conversation at a cell door does bring up many, many things to reflect upon.

But the memories are there

September 3, 2011

Funerals are never much fun, but the day after the mass and burial of a former coworker six years my junior finds me a little out of sorts.

I met him 42 years ago right after he graduated from college and started his career in the same plant where I was working. Saw him a lot then, but very little in the last few dozen years. Lost touch, really, for a whole host of reasons.

Nevertheless, those times when we were all in our 20s come rushing back very, very quickly as one more tangible connection to the present is severed by death.

But the memories are there and are to be savored.

With gratitude

August 25, 2011

Back when I began running 33 years ago I would have questioned the sanity of anyone who told me I’d still be running now. Anyway, I am and with gratitude.

My latest pre-run routine consists of this: at 5:20 a.m. I have a banana washed down with a glass of chocolate milk containing two heaping spoonfuls of pinole. At 7:30 I head out the door. If this little snack  isn’t doing wonders for how I feel, then I have a terrific imagination. Endurance is better; times are better. I feel great!

I figure it is either the meal contents themselves or the omission of my usual large bowl of cereal with a banana on top. Whichever it is, things are going well during my fitness runs.

It is a lonely place

August 20, 2011

“You have no idea what it’s like,” he said to me tearfully.

“What’s that?”

“Being sick, really sick, and all alone.”

A small row of locked rooms comprises the infirmary at the prison. There is no one in the hall, no sounds, not even the murmur of a TV through the solid steel doors.

A correctional officer will come and open a door if I would like to enter for a brief visit.

Some offenders are quarantined if they are contagious. Conversations with those men are held at the door if they can get up and come over. Nothing spreads faster than an illness in a prison, plus one never knows who within the population has a compromised immune system.

Others may be segregated from contact due to unpredictable or violent behavior. Again, those are best held at the door.

Those who are terminal have daily attention from any one of several hospice-trained prisoners, a dedicated group of grace-filled workers. I can visit them as well.

But most in the infirmary are there for a short time, are safe, and can be visited. I don’t stay long, communion may be desired. Emotions are always just below the surface, especially when I ask if I may give them a blessing.

Yes, it is a lonely place, and, yes, I have no idea what it’s like.

Mr. Rusty

July 6, 2011

A friend in Wales has a bust he calls Mr. Rusty in his backyard. So, I’m including this photo from the Saint Louis Art Museum magazine:

Head of a Gaul, Francois Rude (1784-1855)

Head of a Gaul by Francois Rude (1784-1855)