Us and Them

One hears a lot of complaints about “the government” these days. There seems, at first blush, to be a very distinct line between us and them. Everyone from politicians to activists offer their thoughts about the relative merits of real America and the Washington D.C. government which is out of touch with the real American values.

As an aside, I find it kind of strange to hear politicians rant against the “out of touch government” while they work so hard to get inside the D.C. beltway. Rarely have I found any of them to perform noticeably different from their predecessors.

Anyway, back to the us against them mentality. To me it seems to be counterproductive at best and a denial of reality at worse. It is too simplistic to point our fingers towards those who have been elected as our leaders and tell them how they screwed things up.

To be sure government at all levels, federal, state and local, has, at times, demonstrated an amazing level of incompetence, inefficiency, self centeredness, sometimes stupidity, a lack of self-control, and even greed. But to sit back and blast away at them, as if they alone are the problem, is to display a collective lack of self-awareness.

Our founding fathers set up this system of government where the people are represented by elected officials; government by the people and for the people. So I submit if we really want Washington, or them, to change we need to change as a society. Rarely have I seen a society as litigious (greedy) as ours. We willingly live beyond our means and rack up massive amounts of consumer debt, and then wonder if there is a program to help us out of the mess (lack of self-control). We tend to be far more concerned about “us four and no more” than we are about the whole of society (self-centered). Even in the community of nations, our collective desire to live as if we are alone on the planet, comes through in less than helpful ways.

Of course you and I wouldn’t actually live that way. We live on a budget, we pay our taxes, and we do our part for the community. It’s the others who are selfish, irresponsible, stupid, and greedy; yeah, it the government and other people, but not us.

Really? Nope. We all carry tendencies towards being selfish and greedy! It is our collective problem and those we elect merely reflect the state of our negative failures along with the good values we hold dear.

I am not saying that everything about our society is bad! We have many admirable traits including generosity, selflessness, ingenuity, and bigheartedness! And I love the relative freedom we enjoy. I only want to point out that we seem to have drawn a line between the government (them) and we the people (us), and this line inhibits our ability to look closely into the failures of our own hearts.

So if, as I contend, there is no them that means there is only us. And if that is true then the only way to change the dysfunction in our government, is to change the dysfunction within our own hearts. And we need to work at it together as a society.

Lord have mercy.

Leon

Just What Does it Take to Make a Decision

My wife is one of those people who likes to tackle a decision only after getting all the facts. Me? Well I think can get “all the facts I need” to make a decision more quickly than she. In other words I like to fly by the seat of my pants.

While Sue and I don’t always reach the same conclusions, there are time when her plodding, methodical approach brings her to the same opinion I reached in about ten seconds. And then there are times when I am enlightened by her “research” and am persuaded to join her wholeheartedly. So we walk on in life and balance each other.

But there was this one time, about ten years ago, when Sue did something uncharacteristically rash. Without having all the plans in place, without knowing all the facts, she made a decision that changed the direction of her life. I was kind of shocked as I watched her, wondering what in the world she was thinking. This was not the Sue I had known for most of a decade. What was going on inside her? Had she taken leave of her senses?

You see ten years ago today, October 2 1999, Sue said I do and married me and our two children. I had lost my first wife to cancer, the kids were three and five years old; and Sue married us anyway! What a difference that has made for us all.

So I got to witness Sue jumping into the great unknown and am grateful to God that I got to jump into the unknown with her.

Happy anniversary Sue.

Peace

Leon

My Father is my Role Model

A little over twenty three years ago my father began a new phase of his journey. He departed this life and entered the next.

Wherever he went on this earth my father left an indelible impression on those he encountered. To start with he had a port-wine birthmark that covered one half of his face. So to meet him was to see that huge red mark. But in just a few minutes, if you were like 95% of the people who met him, you completely forgot about the birthmark. My father’s warm, gregarious personality overwhelmed any feelings of “look at that red mark.” In short he became your friend and then there was so much more to be fascinated with than a port wine colored birthmark.

Though he was never able to finish the sixth grade, my father was a widely read man. Dad used to say, “If you can read you can learn anything!” And he proved his love of reading by collecting books and magazines on almost any topic, from all around the world. Just off the top of my head I remember a novel about a Chinese peasant, a collection of folk tales from Liberia, Mother Earth News, a host of political writings, McGuffy Readers from the early 1900’s, various tomes on holistic medicine, popular science, popular mechanics; and the list is just getting started.

Dad’s friends were…well most everyone wanted to be his friend. Our home was always open for the stranger. So many people counted our family as their own, that we had a hard time figuring out who should sit where at the funeral. The conversation went something like this. Well there’s Don. He has to sit with the family. Don was about a third cousin, but spent as much time at our house as I did.

We never had Thanksgiving or Christmas where only our immediate family was present. Someone always brought a friend or sometimes even the friend of a friend along who had nowhere to go that day. Each one was welcomed and accepted to sit at that table and enjoy the conversation, great food, and hospitality in our home. The funny thing was that few people felt like they were outsiders. In just minutes they would be laughing and talking, fully engaged in whatever topic was being discussed.

What made this even more interesting was that our family was only one generation removed from being Amish. Both my mother and father were raised Amish. I grew up in a very conservative offshoot of the Amish. We had cars and electricity, but other than that…we looked the part.

Among people who counted my dad as their friend were people who were blatantly racist, people who were deeply religious, as well as those who did not believe in God at all. Our family had so many friendships outside our close Amish-like community, that none of us kids learned how to speak “dutch.”  But to everyone who crossed his path, dad was welcoming, generous, and giving.

He once gave his credit card to a young man who got stuck on his honeymoon and told him to mail it back when he got home. More than once, young men seeking to buy a house, came to my dad for help; and our family really didn’t have that much to spare, but he tried to give these young families a shot at home ownership.

Long after his death, after my brother had purchased the home place and was then getting ready to sell and move away, there was an amazing gathering. So many people had come to see 1121 Rittman Road as their second home, so many referred to my parents as their grandparents, that they gathered together  to remember. They talked about the wonderful days and nights they had spent within those walls. They talked about the way my father had influenced them; befriended them. They reminisced and shared. They all laughed, and some even cried.

Even though my dad had long since begun that new phase of his journey, here were people gathered to remember how his open door home made them feel like they belonged, like they mattered. His generosity had touched them all in some powerful way. He truly reflected God in a powerful way.

So this weekend as I remember my father, I realize anew the desire to be like him. I want my children to see me welcome and accept others, especially those who need a place to feel safe and at home. I want to instill in my children a deep love of books and reading, to be “hunters and gatherers” of learning. And long after I begin that phase of my journey that comes after this life, my hope is that my family and others remember my life as reflecting the values of my both of my fathers…earthly and heavenly.

Peace,

Leon

Camping: I Hate It

It’s that time of the year. School is out and families are preparing to experience the great camping adventures of summer.

We have friends who use pop-up campers, others prefer tents, and there are even a few who love a sleeping bag out under the stars. But they all tell wonderful stories of sitting around the campfire at night, making smores, roasting hotdogs and making hobo breakfasts on the bottom of old tin cans. What an economical way to bring entertainment and fun into the lives of your children.  And it doesn’t stop there. I know elderly people who as they got older bought bigger and better campers. When they camp it is in style. Every weekend throughout the summer one can find large groups of people visiting or playing games together as they sit outside their beautiful pull behinds or RV’s.

I am not one to rain on anyone’s camping experience, but I just don’t like sleeping outdoors. I don’t like sleeping in a tent. I don’t like mosquitoes and bugs. I don’t like choking on smoke. I don’t like baking in the heat or freezing in the cold. Actually camping seems like the perfect way to waste a house. My big beef is with tent camping, but please hear me out. Almost every time I have been camping since 1979 it has rained. In fact, I can only remember one time when it didn’t. And I don’t mean a gentle rain or drizzle.

Once in Indiana there was a tornado. Tents blew away, trees came crashing down, camp sites were flooded; it was a doozy. Then there was that time in the UK, it started raining the minute I got into my sleeping bag. All night long the rain poured down, and before it was done it was raining sideways. I was soaked. My sleeping bag was soaked. My backpack and everything in it was soaked. But since I was not a quitter several nights later we were trekking once again. This time it alternately snowed, hailed and sleeted throughout the night. People always say things like, “Oh but what great memories!” Memories! I needed inner healing after that week!

Sometime since that night I decided the camping Gods had it in for me. Never again would I go camping. But then I got married. And a couple of years ago my wife begged me to go camping in a tent with her and the kids. I told her “No way was I going to sleep in a tent again.” I explained that if I did it would rain. She scoffed at me and muttered something about inducing a curse.

So after we got the tent set up (you see who won that argument) we chatted with the folks nearby and finally decided to go to bed around ten that night. And sure enough it started to rain. The little creek near our tent was transformed into a raging torrent. Soon a small river was running through the tent. Once again everything got soaked and once again I got no sleep. I spent a large chunk of the next day at a laundry washing and drying things out.

I really should find a way to market this unusual ability…or curse. Got a drought? Give me a call. I’ll set up camp and it WILL rain. For now I will watch others go camping and listen to their stories of adventure. Me; I prefer a Hampton Inn and Suites with high speed internet and a good breakfast buffet. I‘m not a weenie. I just hate getting wet out of context.

Peace,

Leon

Death

For a long time, in my daily prayers, I have included prayers for those who have lost loved ones. The sense of despair can be overwhelming.

This week dear friends of mine lost their 18 year old son in a car crash. I was reminded of the depth of sorrow death brings to those of us who still live. While I have never lost a child I have lived through the death of numerous family members, including my first wife. As I have grieved the loss of my friend’s son I tried to put into words how I remember feeling when death invaded my life.

What follows is kind of dark, but it is real. It is what I felt. Thank God it is not the end of the journey, but it was a very real phase. Perhaps later I will add more to this piece that includes the healing phase. I can honestly say life is good. I have joy.  But I also have a deep identification with those who suffer the pain of loss. Join me in lifting up to God all who are in the depth of pain that comes when someone they love departs this life.

Death

The gaping hole inside…is filled with empty, numbing pain

Tears; waterfalls really…but I can’t seem to cry anymore

Shock…overwhelming reality

I cannot go on…I must go on

I am exhausted…insomnia has become my partner

I cannot take in such a vast amount of pain…yet it keeps on coming

I go into the room, smell the clothes …but will never again hold my loved one

Memories comfort me…memories torture me

I am empty inside…but filled with an aching longing

I will be sad forever…I cannot even imagine the future

Vague numbness…specific pain

I cannot cry anymore…but suddenly, I weep and sob

I feel abandoned…a deep, abiding sorrow is my constant companion

I am so full of pain…I am rarely hungry

My life has come to a screeching halt…others go on as if nothing has happened

All of me is pain and suffering…my soul has been shredded

Every waking moment is wracked with pain…the blessing of sleep eludes me

Life goes on…I cannot put one foot in front of the other

I cling to memories…but the life I knew is gone

Will this nightmare never end…I am reminded at 3 AM, this is no dream, this is my life

O Lord. Have mercy on all who suffer the despair of loss. Have mercy O God. Have mercy.

Joyous Music and Bloody Occasions

Last evening my family went to my daughter’s high school pops concert. I was impressed with the quality of the music. The jazz band was amazing, the string orchestra rich and lush, the brass was polished (both literally and musically), there several choirs; overall it was a great concert!

The theme for the concert was Americana. We heard everything from rock and roll and Scott Joplin to some Walt Whitman stuff set to music. It was a high quality production with vocalists, projected images, recitations, and all around great music.

A major part of Americana is the military side of things. Let the record show that the stirring, martial music of all branches of our military was present and accounted for. It was moving to see old men, long retired from this or that branch of the military, be honored for their years of service. Each stood as the song from their branch of the service was played.

However, it was also quite jarring to hear the happy, dignified strains of the songs honoring those who served, while watching images of tanks, helicopters, and F-18s at war. Somehow the honor and dignity conveyed in the songs seemed darkened and sullied by the reality (projected images) of what war actually does to people; both those who must fight and those who are killed.

Nowhere in those spirited songs did anyone get the sense of how many service men and women have committed suicide after they returned home and were not able to re-integrate the horrors of their experience back into society. Nothing in the music reflected on my friend with PTSD (and thousands like him) who, after Vietnam, wonders through life destroying relationship after relationship with his explosive outbursts, and also missing from the music was the precious little help he  did not received from the VA hospitals. The uplifting melodies did not reflect the increase in broken families and failed marriages that come with war. And finally, nowhere in the stirring music is one moved to think about the tally…you know, how many people did that tank crew have to kill? How many bombs did that sleek, beautiful F-18 drop, and on whom? And the kindly older gentleman who stood three rows back as the Marine Hymn was being played; what scars, emotional or otherwise, does he carry as a result of his participation?

My mind was filled with these musings. Was I the only one present who had these thoughts. Did anyone else wonder at the juxtaposition of amazing music and weapons of destruction, designed only to kill and maim the nameless enemies. Am I strange to think that somehow Jesus our Lord, shakes his head and sighs at the inability of humanity to get along? Am I nuts? Everyone else seemed to be fully at home and not giving the beautiful music paired with the violent images a second thought. Did the music somehow serve to sanitize reality? I left the concert deep in thought.

As we left my son summed it all up when he offered this unsolicited comment. “That sure was some joyous music for such a bloody occasion.” Ok. No blood was spilled at the concert. But he gets it! He understood the message and saw that it was both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. He understood that no amount of violins, brass, flutes, and kettle drums; or stirring, emotional music, can erase the violence of war or make it better.

Joyous music and bloody occasions…makes you think don’t it?

Peace,

Leon

What Kind of Dictator Would You Be: And Other Topics My Kids Bring Up

Driving around with my kids can be a wonderfully mysterious, often hilarious, experience. Getting to hear their insight into life, experiencing their wit and emerging ideas can have you in stitches, or tears, depending on the subject matter.Recently we were out and about grocery shopping when I was startled by this question from my son.

“Dad, if you would be a dictator, what kind of dictator do you think you would you be?”

Well now there’s a question you don’t get every day. In fact, I don’t think I have ever given it a thought! I was not sure how to begin to answer his question, so I did the classic; I have no idea where to go with this one, move and turned it back to him.

“Hmmm. Not sure son. What kind of dictator do you think you would be?”

Unlike me he had obviously given this a good deal of thought, because he immediately responded.

“I would want to be a good dictator so people would like me and stuff. I would try to make everything equal for the people. I would try to show people how to do God stuff, show them right from wrong. And I would avoid death at all costs!”

At first I wondered how avoiding death was a political objective, but after I thought about it for a bit it did make sense. However, I am not sure he’s picked up on the difference between a democratic leader and a dictator, but that is one of the reasons the conversation was so funny. And I guess I had better inform him that eventually death is in the cards for all of us.

On another recent trip, he reminded me to “buckle up.” I thanked him for reminding me. After a brief moment of silence he burst out with.

“You must have AIDS!”

“What?” I asked, shocked and surprised.

“You know. It’s a disease that makes you forget stuff. And you forget stuff all the time so you must have AIDS.”

It was very hard not to burst out laughing. “Do mean Alzheimer’s?” I asked him.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “That’s the one I mean.”

This morning on the way to church with my kids we talked about the economy and the political will to make hard choices. They brought it up and off we went. At one point we stopped the conversation and I was told,

“This is a good conversation and I’m enjoying it so don’t stop talking.”

On the way back we talked about abortion and war, why they exist and what Jesus might want for those situations. After that we discussed homosexuality and the Kingdom of God. Believe me that was a challenging conversation to have with a twelve and fourteen year old.

What a gift my kids are. While they are typical kids, they think deeply about life. Sometimes I expect them to be occupied only with fun thing like sports, cell phones, and music. But I am constantly challenged with their deep thoughts about the nature of life.

Lord have mercy. I need far more wisdom than I have to guide them.

Peace.

Obama Took a Potty break During the Pledge of Allegience (and several other important issues ABC missed)

www.huffingtonpost.com/frank-schaeffer/obama-took-a-potty-break_b_97516.htmlBuzz up!

I must give credit to Frank Schaeffer for the following post on his blog at Huffington Post. It is so rib-tickling funny that I was laughing out loud as I read it. I wanted to share it with you. While Schaeffer is an Obama supporter, his point on cheap politics (focusing on so-called issues while ignoring the really big ones) cuts to all sides. So as we prepare to vote on Tuesday do so in all seriousness and with a lot of laughter.

Have fun.

Leon

Charlie Gibson and George Stephanopoulos did an outstanding job questioning Senator Obama during the PA debate. But even though they spent the first hour on many substantive issues–such as Obama’s pastor’s comments–they missed several key points that voters deserve to know.

Amongst them are these:

Obama took a potty break once in first grade during the Pledge of Allegiance.

In kindergarten Obama finger-painted an American flag with the incorrect number of stars.

Obama’s second grade teacher was quoted as saying “I think Switzerland is cleaner than America” and yet Obama still describes her as a “good teacher.”

The pilot of Obama’s charted campaign plane was at a baseball game three years ago and forgot the words to the Star Spangled Banner and yet Obama has refused to distance himself from him.

Obama’s fourth cousin was accused of shoplifting a pack of gum seven years ago, and yet Obama was photographed hugging him at a family reunion just four years ago.

Asked to respond to these new concerns Hillary Clinton remarked–

“The media continues to give Obama a free ride. How else can you explain that he isn’t having to explain this part of his public record? By the time I was in first grade I not only knew the correct number of stars on our precious flag I had sewn hundreds of flags with my father and mother to hand out to blind cancer patients in Altoona, PA on the Fourth of July. How can the people of Pennsylvania feel comfortable with any candidate who would think that a bodily function is more important than the Pledge? I think Obama shows disdain for working people who never go to the bathroom during patriotic moments. I once held it for 48 hours just because I was thinking about our brave war dead from Western Pennsylvania. And we all might have relatives with a past. But Obama has known about his cousin’s key role in organized crime and done nothing about it! This so-called cousin didn’t just steal a pack of gum, there were many packs taken by his friends. This is an insult to all those hard working ordinary law-abiding Americans in Philadelphia who play by the rules and that I’ve spent thirty-five years fighting for ever since I was born near where they live and loved it. And I want you to know that Bill and I once actually canceled a state visit by the pope because we remembered that I had inadvertently picked up a mint at a hotel lobby in Pittsburgh–one of 80 countries I’ve visited while under fire–and when we got back to the White House it occurred to me that I hadn’t paid for it so we flew all the way back to return it. It turned out the mint was free, but I live by an inner code and got that code from the gun owners of Western Pennsylvania when my dad took me bowling–which I do well, by the way, since it is a really American thing to do–to learn right and wrong from people who don’t “cling” to religion but love God, not because they are “bitter” but because they love America. You all in the media have sifted my record for 30 years now, it’s really time you look harder at Obama! What else did his teachers do?”

Frank Schaeffer is a writer and author of “Crazy For God: How I Grew Up As One Of The Elect, Helped Found The Religious Right, And Lived To Take All (Or Almost All) Of It Back”