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

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

The Hospital Visit

Somehow my beautiful daughter has an extra pathway, an extra pathway in the heart. That means there are those times when the electrical impulses in her heart start looping on a closed circuit. I have seen her standing absolutely still and her heart rate was around 250 bpm.

Needless to say it is a frightening thing. Immediately I wonder if she has inherited my gene for Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy? If so, such a heart rate could be deadly. My defibrillator is set to go off at 150 bpm. Well so far there is no evidence that she does have my gene, but soon we will know for sure with DNA testing.

This morning I saw my beautiful daughter hooked up to an IV and be carted off to have the Dr. find this extra pathway and then to eliminate it. She was brave. I acted all cheerful, but inside you always wonder if it will go with the statistics this time or will this be the one in a hundred where something goes wrong? She talked about how it felt to be the one in the hospital bed. She said, “Always before I was visiting others. There was grandma, grandpa, cousins being born, and of course first mom when she was sick.” First mom died almost 10 years ago when my daughter was four. (See my post entitled Today I Remember for more on that story). She continued, “This time it is my turn.” She held my hand. She gave me instructions to call her friends as soon as they got home from school. She looked up at me and said, “Dad. You can blog about this if you want.” She is quite the trooper.

I think back to the drive up here at 6 a.m. We discussed politics, books she has read, racism, history…it was such fun. I was reminded that my daughter is becoming a young woman. She said, “Wow. We started out talking about my heart procedure and wound up talking about history and Thomas Jefferson.” Inside I am hoping that our wide-ranging chat has calmed her nerves.

So here I sit. Waiting…wondering…tired (been up since 4 a.m.)…bored. I am just a little bit peeved that Hershey Medical Center does not have a way for people to get on with a wireless connection. I guess walking all over the hospital trying to find a place to log on was a good way to pass the time. Finally I discovered the library where they take your license and sit you down at one of their computers. Of course there are no bookmarks and I had to remember how to get to what.

But I will wait. I will wait however long I have to wait. When she wakes up I will be there. When she throws up I will try to be with her. I don’t do well in that department. When she is ready to eat something I will feed her. She once asked me, “Will you be there the whole time?” What a responsibility I have. What an honor.  It is still my responsibility to care for her like a small child; to make her feel safe. She is 14 and I am not as obviously needed any more. Someday she will head out into the world and discover its joys, achievements, disappointments, and pain. I have been entrusted to prepare her for that (along with her mom of course).

Speaking of mom. She awoke this morning with a fever and severe stomach ache. What was supposed to be a two with one setup rapidly became a one to one date.

So I wait.

Peace,

Leon

Christ is Risen…and So Am I

Christ is Risen.

It was nearly midnight and I was staring into a dimly lit sanctuary. My sense of anticipation had been building all day. No, more than just today, anticipation had been building all year, intensifying during the Lenten season. For forty days, all during Lent and into Holy Week, God had been nudging me.

Sometimes when I would read scripture, the Word would be alive and filled with hope for my life. Not that I would read a passage and say “That is exactly what God is saying to me right now!” It was more like, “This reveals the nature of God in his interaction with humanity I am part of that humanity so I can trust God to interact with me in a similar way.” At points along the way, I became more deeply aware of my need for repentance from sin in my life.

The last few years had been brutal. My wife, Lena, died in January of 1999. By October, 2002, my role on the pastoral staff in the church I had served for 12 years came to an end. Both these events shook my life to the core. I lost the ability to dream, and wondered if God had simply placed me on the shelf like a child’s forgotten toy. I wondered if others in my life had forgotten me too.

But, entering this Lenten season, something was stirring inside me. I felt alive! God was always on the move, but now I felt him in ways I had not experienced in many years. I examined different aspects of my life and felt him nudging me to look behind the piles of rubble I found. As I picked up old stones and broken bricks, I saw ways in which I had allowed my self doubt to become a loss of confidence in God. The resulting attitude was “whatever!” While I still believed and I still prayed and I still desperately desired to follow God in faithfulness, I just couldn’t shake the thought that I couldn’t make a difference. I have been set aside.

At the bottom of the rubble pile, I realized I needed to repent before God. It was simply wrong of me to hold on to a sense of failure, or fear, or just to say “I can’t.” I held my sin before God and the more I repented, the more I felt him bringing new life. I wondered if Samson felt this way as he realized his strength was returning. And though I had no plans to pull the whole temple down on my head, it felt so good to feel alive again!

That night, the candles gently illuminated the icons in the room. I could make out the altar at the front, where the celebration of the resurrection of our Lord would soon be held. I stared hard, drinking in every aspect of that dimly lit room. So inviting. So welcoming. In the silence, someone came up and spoke gently to me. I was comforted, but I wanted only to drink in what was before me.

Come unto me all you who are tired and burdened. I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, learn from me. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

On the previous two evenings, this room had been filled with people singing, praying, reading scriptures and prostrating themselves before God. I love the Holy Friday evening service. Such depth and beauty is indescribable and the hauntingly beautiful songs touched me at the core of my being. Like attending a funeral where you say goodbye to a loved one, I found myself bidding adieu to parts of my own soul. I said goodbye to hurt and woundedness. I said goodbye to despair. I said goodbye to the idea that God had set me aside and forgotten about me. That night, as we read the story of Ezekiel’s dry bones filling the valley, I was filled with hope that my dry bones could live again as the breath of God swept over me anew.

During those few quiet moments before the beginning of the paschal celebration, I stood in the dark and looked upon holiness.

God was there.

And, in the next hours, as we entered the awe and wonder of the resurrection, I realized that, I along with our Lord Jesus, had been resurrected.

Peace,

Leon