As I was quietly reflecting early this morning, I realized I needed to add one more piece to what I guess is a four part series on perspective. Driving home alone last Friday after dropping Diane off in Yuma, I had several hours to think while navigating the stormy conditions on Interstate 8 over the mountain pass. I knew it was Inauguration Day and that the following day would see numerous demonstrations around the world. After spending some ten days in largely unpopulated areas, immersed in creation’s beauty, I’d be right back in the thick of things, as is always the case.

And, so I felt called to write about the Lord’s Prayer and then to briefly express a sadness and then to write about where we should place our faith and the mistakes people are making. I didn’t know what would be coming next until I did, this morning.

Perhaps all of my writing is about perspective. But, just as I landed on the Lord’s Prayer a few days ago, my mind went to another … perhaps the other most famous piece of scripture, known to Jews and Christians and many who are not but who have attended memorial services: The very brief 23^rd Psalm, attributed to King David.

Pieces of David’s story are very well known while some pieces are less well known. Certainly the picture of the shepherd boy answering God’s call to take on the massive Goliath of the Philistines in a winner-take-all confrontation with extremely high stakes … that picture is pretty well imprinted in our minds. However, that is neither the beginning or anywhere close to the end of his story. David’s story is one of great contrast and great resolution. He is commonly referred to as “a man after God’s own heart.” And, yet, David was severely flawed, a murderer and adulterer. He stands as one of the great leaders in Hebrew history, along with Abraham and Moses. He was both a powerful king, anointed and adored, and a broken man, defeated. He was a warrior and a poet. Interestingly, both Moses and a future great leader of the faith, Saul/Paul, were also murderers. In other words, sinful men. There is a lesson here, one that absolutely should not be missed.

There are 150 Psalms and many of us have spent considerable time exploring their depth. They never disappoint. The one known as the 23^rd is short but covers a lot of ground. It offers us a perspective that is rich, full and promising. It does not shirk the rough stuff and I’m glad about that. Proper perspective has to be real and everything I know about life says that that, ultimately, we have no reason to be either optimistic or pessimistic. A life well lived includes suffering and, hopefully, some measure of joy. Written by a very flawed man who at times lost his way, this psalm also reflects the author’s undying faith and knowledge. I can identify with this man as I believe many of us can. Of course, maybe not to the extremes we read about but when we look inside carefully and honestly, we can’t help but see a battle.

There are all sorts of translations, from the old King James to the modern Message. The one I will use now is the NIV, or New International Version.

The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

I think we have a tendency to rush through these kinds of things and fail to pause and try to appreciate the pearls. I spoke of this when addressing the Lord’s Prayer. Commonly, we hear this entire psalm at memorial services as a picture of heaven, encouraging us to recognize that our deceased loved one is in a really, really good place. Not to take away from that, but I think that we should consider the piece as much more expansive and meaningful than that. Its depth speaks to us today and offers us a perspective that should be treasured.

I have a shepherd. I am not alone. I have someone who cares so deeply for me. He provides for my every need. He does not promise that it won’t snow or that there won’t be wolves or bears. But, he promises he will watch over me and he actually knows who I am. While I may be part of a large flock, he will know quickly if I’m lost and he will seek me out. I may be one of  many but I am special. He will fight for me and under his care, I will be nourished.

In fact, in the scheme of things, I really lack nothing. As I mentioned a couple of days ago in the Lord’s Prayer when considering daily bread, my needs are really quite small. David says that as long as he has the Lord as his shepherd, he really does not need anything else. This, from a king. Hypocrite? I think not. As he wrestled with who he was and who God is, he cut to the core and this is his testimony.

I believe as David. However, I also realize I fail to live anywhere close to fully on this core value.

He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul.

Here, David calls out the fact that life is full of chaos, tragedy, sorrow, violence and suffering. Yet, there is an antidote. No, this is not an escape from reality but a recognition that when we’re in the midst of it, we should recall this perspective.

He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside quiet waters. I’m not sure I want to dissect the difference between make and lead. I’m sure there are scholars who have done so and maybe I’ll take the time to research that someday. But, for now, the point is that God brings relief.

I sometimes think of Beethoven’s sixth symphony when I read this part of the psalm. His symphony is entitled the “Pastorale.” I especially like the second movement. I see beautiful landscape, while the weaving together of sound reflects that and my heart is calmed. I see this in paintings and photographs. My mind conjures up images of a meandering stream as it winds its way through a valley, surrounded by banks and greenery, punctuated by wild flowers of all sorts of colors. Also, in the frame are the mountains, majestic, that also stand in relief to the valley and while beautiful, are quite different. They require effort and exertion to navigate and, sometimes great risk and even danger. Not so, down here. Here, there is calm and tranquility. No rage. No torrent. An offering of peace and contentment.

And, yes, this place restores my soul. Because, you know, I have a soul and this soul of mine (and ours) is designed purposefully.

It contains the essence of who we are and how we are meant to be. Maybe some day I’ll write on this thing but for now I just want to recognize that we humans are complicated and pulled in all sorts of directions. This is a reason I’m writing this series. We can let the anger, resentment and self-righteousness grab a foothold. It’s certainly not hard to do. It surrounds us, yells at us, tugs us in. And none of us are immune. But, once it has our attention or even a foothold, we have a choice. Do we want to let it control us, feed us, lead us? Anger turns to spite and even malevolence. It lifts us, carries us and, in the end, consumes us. Resentment poisons our hearts, darkens our life, narrows our vision, blurring or cutting out beauty. Self-righteousness is the polar opposite of actual righteousness although it masquerades as the real thing. It puffs our chests, makes our voice loud and strident. We allow deep forces within us to grab control as we set up walls and all of this turns hearts of flesh into stone. Thus, our souls wither away from neglect and we are lost.

David recognizes this and so, he correctly acknowledges that God’s leading is to a place of refreshment and restoration. We are partners and all we have to do is be willing to be led.

One of the many, many reasons I continue to follow Jesus is my recognition that this reality I’ve been describing, both the challenges and the solutions, is fundamentally truthful. Nothing I’ve seen or experienced in the last dozen years has shifted my perspective a tittle.

He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake.

And, as I am led through this restorative place, sometimes lying down in silence and abandonment, sometimes quietly walking, drinking it in, I am guided along the right paths. Because there are “right” paths. And there are wrong paths. Some will say all paths lead to the same place. Respectfully, you are as welcome to your perspective as I am to mine and I don’t believe that to be true. All paths do not lead to the same place. The God I believe in does not lead me on wrong paths. I do plenty of that on my own. I can testify that when I fully surrender, I’ve never been disappointed. I’ve never looked back and thought, “boy, did he lead me inappropriately!” Yes, I have been led by God down difficult paths but he does not fail us when it comes to being the right path. And, while I have not the ability to know God fully in this life, nor perhaps even a small fraction, I do have the ability to know enough about him to know he is real and all I really need to do is ask … to call out his name. David knew this and so do I.

And then, suddenly, we are no longer in Beethoven’s symphony, nor in those idyllic paintings. We are thrust out.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

The most commonly read traditional version, says, “through the valley of death.” Regardless, we can see death and darkness as very similar. They are the opposite of life and light. And, sometimes, the light has gone out of our lives and we can only see the pit.

Some, in our materially-wealthy western world will probably say they’ve never seen the pit. They’ve never known something we can call anguish. Life has served up a pretty good dish. While life has at times been challenging, they’ve never known destitution. Never experienced the claws of addiction or violence. Never suffered the loss of a child or a broken marriage, once full of promise. Never lost life’s savings or been out on the street looking for work, month after month and even longer. And, maybe some of these people are so insulated that they haven’t been called in to live closely beside someone who is deeply in this state, asked to participate in the suffering in some measure. Maybe they haven’t spent time working with the destitute … the real poor, the victims of violence and addiction, the prisoners, the hungry. I’m sorry.

For the darkness is real and the pit is a terrible place and it is part of the human condition and I’ll say that no life well lived is isolated from its reality.

And the darkness draws us down and we sense that death in some kind of form is happening or will happen. Evil is at play.

But, says David, and he is so right … even though this is happening, I will not allow myself to be consumed by the ultimate force, the force that is antagonistic to the reality of God. Because I know, in the end, I really have nothing to fear. Yes, life is really, really hard right now but I need not fear. This is a huge deal.

Evil will not own me. Death and darkness can be defeated by the life and light that God provides.

I know many people who have overcome these things and, although they suffered terribly, their faces shine and their hearts are full.

They and I will testify that the shepherd’s rod and staff are the consummate comfort and that they ward off darkness and death and offer space to regenerate and live in the light. While they are actually two different things, they are used to protect and guide the flock. And, sometimes that guidance may not be pleasant as we are “disciplined” given that creatures or children need a firm hand on occasion. But, the intention is clear. So long as we submit to the shepherd with his various means, we know we can find comfort.

And with that we make another turn, maybe deeper into the muck before pulling up and out.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

I used to struggle with the first part of this more so than I do now. I could get how David had enemies. After all, he was a warrior king in violent times in a fiercely tribal part of the world. Of course he had enemies. But, how was I to read this today? In what way do these two sentences speak to me?

But before he mentions enemies, he recognizes that God, the shepherd, has prepared a feast. God has done that for me. For me. A feast. A celebration. Deliverance. Redemption. No matter my failings. No matter my struggles. No matter that I may have done some bad things and I may have regrets … in fact, it’s with the full knowledge that the thing that really matters is that I recognize you are my shepherd. And you invite me to the table. To the feast.

And, yes, it is in the very presence of and with the recognition that I have enemies. Now, our enemies don’t have to be people but they can be. Or they can be people in certain circumstances that are thrust into our path and pull us in ways that are not healthy. We may or may not recognize them as enemies at first but they are. They do not seek our good but to fulfill some desire of their own, consciously or otherwise, that cuts at us. And this cutting can dredge up all sorts of things that can distract us from a place that is restorative of our souls. I have met these enemies and some are very strong and persuasive. I still see them although most people I know would look at me and say I can’t really see where he has enemies.

It’s not too hard to jump from outwardly physical threats to the threats of the interior. Evil is always looking for a foothold. We are a fickle species. God basically has two “commandments” for us … two foundational rules of the game. Anything that distracts us from following these precepts is a potential enemy. David recognized this. Yes, we are in a battle, although this modern or post-modern world may scoff at this idea. Man is not pure, never was and never will be in this world. If we believe there’s not a battle going on, then we have built huge walls to separate us from reality and from authentic life.

But, here’s what God does. In the very moment that we are surrounded by enemies, he prepares for us a feast … a celebration. And, he says, “Look at this! Compare the two! What are you worried about?”

And, he even takes it further.

I have been anointed by oil, a number of times. And, I have anointed others, as well. It’s really a remarkable moment. Yes, it’s a ceremony, a simple symbolic but meaningful act, with a long tradition. Many cultures do it. It says, pause and know that there is something very profound happening. I have learned to carry a very small canister attached to my keychain and it holds a minuscule little bottle of oil. I know others who do likewise.

To be anointed is to symbolize that we are under the care of the divine. The anointment is always accompanied by some sort of blessing, a statement that we are not alone and that we have a shepherd who loves us, regardless of circumstance. Most times, when anointment occurs, the recipient is seated, usually surrounded by others with hands laid on, who have had a chance to pray publicly on behalf of the person. A community recognition of the moment. And the anointer is kneeled in reverence, issuing the blessing, making the mark on the forehead or crown.

The skeptic may scoff and dismiss this as a ritual of wishful thinking. So be it. I have only known deep love in these moments.

Which is how I understand the last phrase: My cup overflows.

While experiencing this degree of love, either in the giving or receiving, the heart is touched deeply and, yes, the cup of goodness overflows. This is in the human context. In the psalm, David is speaking to God. I try to imagine God kneeling in front of me, anointing me and I want to weep.

But, then, I remember that he did. He got on his knees and washed the feet of his followers. He made himself the lowest of them, treated them with kindness and love and, shortly after, was tortured and killed. With this knowledge, how can my cup not overflow?

And, we are brought to the conclusion.

Surely your goodness will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

As I mentioned at the beginning, this psalm is most commonly read at memorial services but as this conclusion clearly reflects, David meant it to include this life. Surely, or Assuredly, or “you can take it to the bank,” God is good and I cannot escape it.

My favorite book as a child was Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown. Diane’s favorite, by the same author, was Runaway Bunny. Both our boys grew up with these two books. I think one of the reasons I never understood God or the concept of unconditional love was that I did not experience the simple message of Runaway Bunny, wherein the mother bunny allows the little one to escape as kids sometimes try to do … but she lets him know she would always follow and never really let him go. I know this to be true after I surrendered. David knew this to be true as he surrendered. And, of course, this is just now and there is such a thing as forever.

We don’t really know how to interpret the house of the Lord. I’ve had glimpses and some understanding of the thing I believe to be true.

In C.S. Lewis’ remarkable seven-book Narnia series, he concludes with a book entitled The Last Battle. Of course, the whole series is a fantasy that speaks to many, many truths. At the very end, the small band passes through the door that separates this life from the next one. And, after ages and ages of adventures, Lewis writes that they are really only about to begin Chapter 1.

So, my perspective is about a promise. A promise that is kept each day and offers an alternative to the reality that most people choose to live under. While the 23rd psalm is of the Old Testament, a thousand years before Jesus, it is clear that he is its fulfillment.

Each day, we are faced with challenges. Some are right in front of us and some are out there somewhere else but we are drawn in. How to filter it all? How to make sense and know what it all means and what to do. I believe it takes Perspective and with that I’ll end.

The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul.

He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

Surely your goodness will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

Amen.

We are in an age of enormous magnification of human individuality. People are scrambling for celebrity status while also bowing before those they idolize for all sorts of reasons. While this is not a new phenomenon, I don’t think anyone can argue the degree to which this whole thing is accelerating.

Kings and chiefs have been with us since the earliest days of human community. We recognize that anarchy is unsustainable and so defer to others, while according them some measure of our allegiance. Even the mob does this.

I’m an observer of history and so privileged to make observations in context. When print became common and relatively inexpensive to produce and disseminate, that allowed those with access to help create legends along with news, literature and other forms of expression. While I may not be exact, to me a legend is at least partially a story about something that captures the imagination but is just not true. Sometimes, we take truth and make it legendary.

With the rise of movies and TV, stars were born. These people who happened to have a gift (or not) of acting … of playing a role … became kinds of legends. They were larger than life, capturing our attention and, to some degree, accorded a status well beyond their fundamental gifts. Radio, newspapers and visual media did the same thing for athletes. And, of course, politicians.

Not all was bad by any stretch. Entertainment can be great fun and even inform as art does. Sport is a feature in many cultures, although not all and also a form of entertainment. I’m a fan of entertainment … some movies and TV … music … and sports. But entertainment has its limits and is mostly a sideline to what is really important in life. It is not a substitute. When it becomes a substitute and gets too strong a foothold in our consciousness, I believe it distorts what is real and we are the worse for it.

And here is my observation and it may be completely self-obvious but I’ll toss it out anyway.

The lines between movie and music stars, athletes, and politicians have become so blurred it’s often difficult to tell the difference. I’m going to toss out that this phenomenon really began taking off during President Kennedy’s brief term in office. With his glamorous wife, wealthy and powerful family, his heroic story in WWII as the skipper of PT-109, many were spellbound. Immediately following his assassination, Jackie summoned the highly respected author Theodore White (who wrote many “Making of the President” books, all of which I read in my youth) and said that her deceased husband was a fan of the Broadway musical and Arthurian legend, “Camelot.” A magical place. White bit and the legend was born. For decades, JFK reached nearly mythical status, as did his brothers Bobby and Teddy, the latter of whom paid no price for the manslaughter of the object of his dalliance. Of course, all Kennedy sons (save the elder and anointed one, Joseph, who was killed as a pilot in WWII, thus passing along the mantle from the patriach to Jack) were serial adulterers but their legends transfixed us and distracted us from the true human side of who these people were. True history is not kind to most legends but we seem not to learn that lesson very well.

A half century after, we have the confluence, never more obvious than with the election of Donald Trump. But, let me be clear. He is NOT the outlier. He is the product of the age that has fed us across the political spectrum and has insinuated itself into so much of our daily lives.

His opponents on the left, Obama and Hillary Clinton, reveled in the adulation of stars and they all assumed a symbiotic relationship that made actors, actresses, and sports figures instant experts on complex issues of public policy, without any demonstration that they have anything more than a surface understanding of the real nature of the issues. They all fed and were fed by this obsession for attention and authority. All shared center stage for our living rooms. Late night TV, rallies, Sunday football. We are a celebrity-centered culture and the only result is narcissism, the condition where such adulation infuses the object with such expansive ego that nothing dare stand in the way. With cameras everywhere and YouTube and Twitter and 24 hour TV and massive dollars flowing as rivers, we are drowning in this.

I remember reading a book in high school entitled, I believe, The Hidden Persuaders. It’s probably out of print but I remember it as focusing on advertising using subliminal messages to alter our opinions and, therefore, capture our money. While it was mildly interesting at the time, I’ve never really lost sight of how easy it is to manipulate public opinion.

Eight years ago, Barack Obama captured the attention of the world. He was a charismatic person of mixed race who demonstrated particularly good oratory skills. Coming out of virtually nowhere, he leapt to the forefront of our public consciousness, promising unity and hope. I recall following him as early as 2004 and remarking to Diane that he held some great promise. Then I remember the moment I became disenchanted. Just after he was nominated by the Democratic Party in 2008, he removed himself to a rally at Invesco Field in Denver, replete with Grecian columns purportedly designed by Britney Spears’ crew and with megastars set to perform, the man was presented as Olympian. I was reminded of Camelot and the ever-present fact of hubris.

Donald Trump, descending from on high, riding his escalator down from gilded heights to announce his latest presidential run was only in the same vein, although readers may object to the comparison. Both on the left and on the right. You may argue that your guy or woman was or is the right guy and I’m not here to argue with you. That’s not my point. While I suspect my Obama/Hillary supporters reading this will take umbrage at comparing Trump to your leaders and Trump supporters might take umbrage at comparing your leader to Obama and Hillary, I ask you not to go there. The right saw Nuremburg represented in the massive columns and adulation of the Invesco rally. The left sees Hitler in our reality star/businessman president. I’m a descendent of Jews. Be careful.

I am no longer a registered Democrat or Republican, finding it impossible to pledge my allegiance to either party. I’m just shy of 63 years old and making current observations based upon a lifetime of engagement and attention in the realm of public life.

We are willingly buying into cults of personality and giving undue allegiance to that which will always disappoint.

So, what are we to do?

This has been my struggle.

Some see Christians as choosing the avenue of escape. Nothing should be further from the truth. While some Christians may make that choice, I don’t believe that’s consistent with Jesus’s life and message. We are to be completely engaged in this world. His teaching is direct and unequivocal. I have written on this before.

My struggle continues. I read. I watch. I discuss. I wrestle. What is my role? How am I to receive all of this and what am I supposed to do?  So far I refuse to leave the public arena and will continue to advocate for the things I believe are most important.

Jesus tells us to keep our lamp lit.

Our lamp is who we are in the most fundamental state. He brooked no quarter. He said in his first century way, life can suck. We are not called to escape. Neither did he teach that we are some disembodied spirit in reality, such as some of the Greeks or Gnostics taught. We are in this world and, as believers in the Gospel message, our hearts can only call us to be engaged.

But we start with the recognition that WE are the problem. Not they.

I believe I’ve mentioned the remarkable statement of the British wit, author, journalist and Christian, G.K. Chesterton, before, when asked to provide an essay in the early 20^th century on what’s wrong with the world . He responded with just two words: I am.

Meditate on that.

Diane and I were in the midst of a long drive from Cortez, Colorado to Yuma, Arizona last week. Basically bisecting the state of Arizona from northeast to southwest in a day, through some pretty bad weather. We were trying to avoid the worst part of a winter storm but after calculating all options, we knew we had to pass through the high altitude city of Flagstaff, Arizona, just as the storm would begin to gather strength. It did not disappoint. As we drove into the city and the wind was blowing the cold snow everywhere, we pulled into a McDonald’s for a pit stop and in so doing, observed this hunched over man, making his way down the sidewalk, hooded jacket covering his head, pack on his back. Not a place any of us would choose to be. As we parked, he walked by, entering the restaurant just after me and following me to the restroom. As we washed our hands together, he said he noticed our license plate showed we were from California. I looked at him more closely and pegged him for Indian or maybe Latino and said yes. He asked which part. When I told him San Diego, he said he’d served in the Marines and was stationed there. I imagine he was in his 50s. I asked him if he was stationed at Camp Pendleton and he said yes, and at El Toro, just north of here. I had an idea what would come next but instead of asking for money, he simply said he was homeless and hungry and wondered if I’d buy him breakfast.

Most people I know would have responded no differently than I did. I bought him a hot plate of food and a big cup of coffee and we chatted for a few minutes as he showed us some artwork he was working on. He was grateful but not effusively so. That didn’t matter. He remained hunched over the little booth table as we left the restaurant, returning to our expensive vehicle on our wonderful trip.

There but for the grace of God, goeth I.

What is wrong with the world? I am.

I have talked about hubris before. Excessive pride or self-confidence. It is always misplaced.

The first shall be last and the last first. Do we believe that? If we do, let us not focus so much of our attention on those that our world elevates to the top. While they may give lip service to the least of us, they almost universally live in opulence and rarely rub shoulders with a guy in a restroom in a snowstorm.

I cannot save humanity and neither can the actors, musicians, athletes or politicians. Sure, everyone can have opinions and some may attain massive amounts of influence and power, regardless of their values or expertise. Yes, we can make inroads and try to support like-minded leaders and hope for policies and practices that reflect our values. But in the end, we will always be disappointed. Always.

And, that is because we put our faith in the wrong place.

You knew that was coming. As a believer in Jesus, I can say nothing else. It is a fundamental fact of the reality I subscribe to. You can choose differently and I accept that.

While my knowledge of God is limited and I could be off the mark about a number of things, nothing in my experience is dissuasive of the reality that he is the one who deserves our truest allegiance and that we ought to be extremely cautious about placing it anywhere else.

Lord, thank you for reminding us what is really important. Thank you for my group of men this morning at zero dark thirty as we wrestled together to try to make sense of the intersection of faith and reality. It’s not easy and we recognize it’s a mistake to place our greatest allegiance in temporal matters. Reality is not temporal. It is eternal. While we realize that large numbers of people will disagree, we are grateful for the faith that we have. And, as the writer of the Book of Hebrews says, “Faith is the confidence of what we hope for and the assurance of what we do not see.” Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m sitting here at the end of the day. Watching the dusk advance. It’s beautiful. There’s a song playing and she’s saying something about “it’s breaking my heart.”

Which is a little how I feel after looking at the news. The right is rejoicing. The left is screaming. Coarseness and obscenity across the board. Anger abounding. Don’t even tell me that one side is pure and the other is at fault. I know too much history.

Promises and violence. Excuses and blame. This is the stuff of tragedy. I remember marching against the war in San Francisco in 1970. There were hundreds of thousands as we took to the streets. People filling all of the spaces as we marched to Kezar Stadium on Moratorium Day. We knew that there were similar marches in major cities. I was young and idealistic.

Still, I bridled at the Viet Cong flags that flew, even as Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young sang from the distant stage. I was in the 10^th grade.

Whatever your political beliefs, we’ve elected a showman. A provocateur. A narcissist not unlike his predecessor, only more coarse. He shouts in an anger that resonates with so many millions of people who have felt completely left on the sidelines. Good people, most of them. Don’t call them deplorables. You haven’t sat down with them. They’ve rallied around someone because they are desperate and it’s a mistake to dismiss them.

I did not vote and couldn’t vote for the first time since I was 18 and in very first group of voters empowered by the brand new 26^th Amendment to the Constitution, passed six months before my birthday. I’ve faithfully voted for President in every election since then, even though I’ve lost a few. Not this time. That was a hard decision for me.

So, we are left with shouts. Donald Trump, our newly minted president, successor to Washington and Lincoln. Real estate developer and reality showman. Unafraid at presenting himself as a man largely devoid of principle. Oh, and on the other side, we have the cultural elite, self-important well beyond their true value. Really? Madonna, Shia La Beaouf, Charlie Sheen bathed in vulgarity as they are. The strident voices of attention-grabbing Al Sharpton or Michael Moore, all having the gall to criticize Trump as millions cheer them on? Trotted out by the left as exemplars? This is who we are?

The shouting dins my ears. Where is the softness? The humility? Friends de-friend friends in the frenzy.

We reap what we sow. Don’t for a second think any of us is immune from that fact. We give allegiance to the gods of Hollywood or Washington or worldly ideologies and expect salvation. Stop it.

I have spent most of my life immersed in the political. It is very hard now. We are called to be in this world and to do our best. I am not an escapist and will participate in doing what I believe is right. But, tonight I feel enough is enough. I’m just sad.

Thankfully, there is another way.

I was driving home yesterday after dropping Diane off with her sisters in Yuma, Arizona where Carol and Jack spend their winters. We had to cut our road trip short by two days as the Grand Canyon was being visited by a rather large blizzard. I wouldn’t have minded being hunkered down and we certainly had the gear but I didn’t relish driving in those conditions. Not at all. Regardless, it was a wonderful trip and the adventures proved all manageable as requested. It’s never a bad thing having to come home to San Diego, even with a storm raging outside.

Anyway, back to the driving along. I was listening to a playlist when a song I hadn’t heard in awhile popped up. My mind wandered a bit and I thought of the Lord’s Prayer.

Now, prayer is something to think about all on its own. Maybe I’ll get the call to write about it. But, now, I just want to focus on this most famous of all prayers. I suspect that many non-Christians are quite familiar with it. It’s just one of those things that persists, and for good reason.

After all, when his disciples asked Jesus to show them how to pray, this what he said. He followed up with a lot of other advice on prayer, but for now, I’ll just look at the core of his teaching.

Interestingly, it was common for Jesus to take a question and pitch it back as a parable, designed to frustrate the listener into deeper understandings. He masterfully wove stories that forced people to wrestle with the most compelling themes, hopefully breaking through to great insight. Not so with this request.

Jesus simply said in Matthew 6:9, “This then, is how you should pray.” Period.

I’ll come back to that.

But, first, a word about perfunctory prayer. At the risk of stepping on toes, I have a bias against repetitive liturgies (formulaic worship) to the degree that the words are expressed as a requirement rather than from the heart with the full force of meaning. I am of the mind that God is much more interested in what and how we’re actually thinking and feeling, rather than demonstrating the ability to repeat over and over again certain words because, well, that’s what we’re supposed to do.

Put a little differently, when we speak the words and own them as “our” words, then we are in relationship with God rather than as automatons dutifully performing a prescribed ritual.

Now, just because I’m saying I’m biased doesn’t mean I don’t recognize certain value in repetition and formulaic expression. When we enter into a rhythm that allows us to set aside much of the world’s distortions, we are able to focus much more clearly. And, it’s not the repetition that’s the problem. It’s the fact I believe we get lulled out of a place where the words or practice can cut to the very core of who we are, who God is and how we’re called to live our lives. It’s the lulling that’s the problem. And, this holds true for the most well known Christian prayer … the few lines we collectively refer to as “The Lord’s Prayer.”

So, there are no two ways about it. When Jesus responds simply to the disciples’ request on how to pray, I’m of a mind that he means what he says. And, if you’re of a mind that he is, in all actuality, God, then I suspect we ought to really try to wrap our heads around where he goes with it.

Disclaimer: Let’s set aside dispute over translations and how Catholics and Protestants tweak the language. The basics are the basics. Also, I am not even close to being an expert on either prayer in general of this one in particular. So, I will probably butcher my interpretation in some eyes. But, this is how I see it.

Back to Matthew 6-9: “This, then is how you should pray: Our father in heaven, hallowed be your name.”

He sets the stage right out of the gate. I’d like to think I can go there when I pray this prayer, although I normally fall pretty far short. But, if I’m really of a mind to “pray” this prayer, then I need to start off well. And that means recognizing who I am and who I’m speaking to and with.

He is “our father.” Not “my” father but “our” father. I am one of many, bonded via our relationship with God. He is “father,” creator, protector, giver of life, and font of love and grace. That means I am as a child, receiver of life, beneficiary of unconditional love and grace. I belong to him.

Oh, and while he’s “here,” he’s also not “here.” There is the reality of this world and there is the reality of God’s Kingdom, a term we use to mean that “place” under which he reigns and rules.

Now, this can rub modern sensibilities terribly. The sensibly modern will bridle at archaic language and images that reflect ancient monarchies, made obsolete by obviously superior systems such as democracies. And the sensibly modern will also object to a concept that someone or something has the right to reign or rule over us. How primitive!!

Well, they have a point. In fact, this was a really big sticky thing for me for quite a long time. I couldn’t fathom a reality that was this non-egalitarian. As a freedom-loving modern, I wanted no part of kings reigning and ruling. No part at all.

Until a switch got flipped and it all made complete sense and I awoke from a dream.

I awoke to a reality that this thing called heaven is not some place of clouds and harps and streets paved with gold. It isn’t behind pearly gates with a saint standing guard. It is the realm wherein God is real and obvious and we exist fully in his presence. I have many thoughts about what heaven really is and what my life after death could be like but I know it will be both different and vaguely familiar. So, we pray to a God that is in “the heavens,” a place dramatically different than what we experience mostly, day to day.

And, now we get to the next piece in that brief phrase: “… hallowed be your name.”

The word “hallowed” really means “holy.” And, holy is a big deal. Even if it’s not a topic for polite dinner table conversation.

Something that is holy is sacred, set apart, pure, worthy of intense respect. I am not holy. Not by a long shot. God is holy. In fact, he is not us, he is set apart, pure and worthy of respect. And, here’s something I find interesting: Jesus didn’t introduce the prayer by saying, “hallowed are you.” He said, “hallowed be your name.” Now, we can split hairs but the distinction causes me to pause. In fact, the mere name of God is hallowed. Holy. How much more the whole deal?

As I write this, I’m reminded of something very personal.

I used to have a pretty foul mouth. I can date its origin pretty much to working on the docks of the Scripps Institute of Oceanography my second summer at UCSD. My friend, Bruce, and I were summer workers, pulling down $2.24/hr to be grunts around the ships and fork trucks and cranes and welding machines. It was hard duty and the regular guys were pretty coarse, to put it mildly. Former military or Teamsters, with names of Sonny, Killer and Tex (the ones I recall) they rarely completed a sentence without cursing. And they cursed with vehemence. While I later restrained my language for the most part except around people who knew me, I still let loose on many an occasion. And, I didn’t even think about it when others used similar language. It was just a natural part of communicating. Along with the F bombs and the S word or its amplified “That’s B… S…!,” I frequently resorted to “J…. C…..!” when really frustrated or “G.. D…..!! You get the picture. The name of Jesus was a swear word and I didn’t think a whit about it.

Many Christians pray fervently that God will change us and relieve us from bondage to this or that addiction, habits we recognize as destructive and not a reflection of the person we realize we were meant to be. After making the choice to follow Jesus and when everything changed in the blink of an eye, a number of very specific changes happened. Within a few days at most, I realized I couldn’t swear. I don’t mean that I realized it was wrong and I needed to restrain myself. I mean I couldn’t swear. Physically. Any inclination just vanished. It was taken away. I didn’t pray that this would happen, as in, “God, I now belong to you. Would you please help me with my foul mouth?” The thought never crossed my mind. I just couldn’t. And, for the past twelve years, nothing has changed.

And, while I do not judge others for their use of foul language (there but for the grace of God, goeth I!), I have a visceral reaction when I hear the words. And the hardest part is hearing the Lord’s name taken in vain. Diane agrees with me on this. It’s like a body blow. Some who read this might think I and we are overreacting … that we’re being Puritanical. OK. But, let me ask you this: Would you think a black person is overreacting if he or she is confronted with a loud “N…..!?” I suspect not. It’s the same thing. We learn to live with it but it hurts.

Holy are you. “Hallowed be your name.”

Now that we’ve recognized who we are addressing, we move to a declaration of fact:

Matthew 6:10, “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

I’m purposefully not accessing commentaries to help guide me in this essay. I want to just call it as I see it, recognizing that many others have explored this phrase in great depth. So, what does this declaration say? Jesus tells us that the wait is over. God has arrived. No longer do either his Jewish listeners or any of the peoples of the world have to go to a temple or “sacred” place to find God. He does not reside in a church or in places of great natural beauty. He is here. By becoming the flesh and blood of a man, God has burst fully into the world we know.

On a high place in the city of Jerusalem, sat the Temple. The Jews reserved the innermost room of this extremely large facility for the residence of God. It was called the Holy of Holies. Only one person was ever allowed to enter it, the High Priest, and then only once a year on Yom Kippur, the sacred Day of Atonement. On that day, the High Priest would basically appeal to God for mercy for the sins of the people. There was a gigantic curtain separating the Holy of Holies from the rest of the rooms. Surviving documents indicate  it was 60 feet high, 30 feet wide and four inches thick. Imagine that! Christians believe that this veil, the physical device that separated the people from God, was completely torn in two at the moment of Jesus’ death. Doubters may doubt. For those who believe, the tearing or “renting” of the veil signifies that God is present to each of us, without the need for mediating influence or physical separation. And, he is as present and real in our world as he is in the heavens. And, being present, his will is manifest.

This latter statement is a hard one to grasp and I’ll defer from addressing it now as it can get really complicated. I’m not hedging, just deferring for now. But I will say this:

I firmly believe that I have one foot in this world and one foot in the other world. They are separated but connected. There are times when it’s hard for me to see or know the other world … the world of the heavens. And, at other times, the veil of my perception which can be rather thick and opaque, becomes as gossamer. I am granted a glimpse of the Holy of Holies and it is like nothing I could have imagined. For whatever reason, these moments are rare but they cannot be denied. They arrive unbidden and confirm what the decals on the back of our two cars say: “Not of this World.” We are in this world but not of it. Jesus tells us bluntly to acknowledge that God’s will is undeniable. Our task is to do whatever we can to determine it. Fortunately, Jesus’ entire ministry was build around telling us what God’s will is. And, that’s a very cool thing.

We now move from recognizing who and where God is to the most important requests we should make of God.

Matthew 6:11: “Give us our daily bread.”

Whoa there.

Jesus does not tell us that we should ask almighty God for happiness or for prosperity or to relieve suffering as our very first request. He says we should go before God and ask for the most basic form of sustenance. He is telling us to be content with the most basic of things. Yes, I think this is about contentment, something we hardly embrace in this material and fast paced world. I know I struggle with it. We have such wealth and are surrounded by bounty.

Bread is life. If I had time, I could really dive into the heart of what Jesus is saying here and how he is the bread of life (see communion) … our sustenance. But, in the simplest sense, this request is about realizing what is really important. There are many ways we are fed, metaphorically. Let us focus on what really sustains us. What brings us contentment and joy.

And, here we move deeper into the meaning of life as Jesus tells us. Here, we move into the nature of the Kingdom of God that is present on earth as it is in heaven. Here, we shift from a request for simple sustenance to a request that we be freed from bondage. And the first bondage is one of sin … a bad word in certain circles.

Matthew 6:12: “And forgive us our debts, as we have forgiven our debtors.”

(I am using the version common in Protestant churches. Catholics will insert the word “trespass” for “debt.” But, it’s the same thing.)

It is the recognition that we are the cause of offense. Our actions frequently run counter to what God wants for us. We regularly make choices, in both thought and deed, that hurt others, ourselves, and even God. Yes, God can be hurt. See the cross. Jesus cites many examples during the course of his three year ministry. The adulteress, the woman at the well, the judgmental Pharisees and keepers of the law. The Prodigal Son who denies his father and squanders everything. The Apostle Paul (formerly the murdering Saul) covers a lot of this ground in his advice to the various new communities springing up as Christianity began rapidly spreading. Yes, we need to recognize when we mess up. And, when we do and actually experience the pangs of guilt or shame and wish we had not done what we’d done, that is called Repentance. It is remorse. But, Jesus teaches that we should bring that recognition before God and seek his forgiveness. We understand that there has been a tipping of the balance. The hurt is an injury to another, to ourselves, to God. It is a debt. And, in honestly bringing these things to God … honestly, not perfunctorily … we are promised forgiveness. That’s sweet.

But, there’s a catch. It works both ways. It’s one thing to recognize when we mess up and desire the slate to be wiped clean. It’s another thing to act in Christ’s place and do the same for those who offend us. In the post script to the prayer, Jesus warns us that, should we choose to look at this thing as a one way street, we will be sadly found wanting. We have a choice on whether to live in this “Kingdom” that is defined by love and grace, forgiveness and redemption. Or we can choose to live outside of it. Forgiveness is the key to the exit door from bondage to sin … for living a life outside of the one God desires for us. For which we were created. The key is both a head and a heart thing. And, it’s very hard. While it’s hard, it’s not impossible to grow in the right direction. Freedom from debt is remarkably liberating, both for the one who carries the debt and the one who owns the debt. A burden is released and both sides are free. This is what Jesus is teaching.

Finally, we come to the last part of the prayer which, in my mind, is an extension of the part just mentioned.

Matthew 6:13: “And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.”

Heavy sigh.

There’s nothing like concluding his too-the-point lesson on how to pray with this one-two punch. The first phrase, in my mind, is a plea to help us avoid temptations that pull us away from God and his will for us. And, boy, do they exist. Just a quick glance at the traditional “seven deadly sins” is a good place to start. Or, the Ten Commandments. Or, ignoring Jesus’ condensing down to two commandments. How about the oft-cited Sermon on the Mount? All of these and more help illustrate the nature of temptation … the call away from God’s will for us. So, this plea is for help to avoid those pathways, but to lead us toward him.

And, then the prayer gets really blunt. I can almost read this plea as a crying out. It seeks deliverance. Not avoidance but deliverance. I read a lot into this, although I know it’s risky to speak of this to modern sensibilities.

I’ll step out on a limb but I’m being transparent and honest. There is a widely held belief that God is Love. They are synonymous. While I believe there is a lot that is correct in that, I don’t believe it’s actually that simple. God is God. And love is his character. For some who believe that God is Love, the logic goes that evil is the absence of God. So when people do really bad things that some could characterize as evil things, the belief is that they are simply acting contrary to the nature of God. End of story. I don’t subscribe to this.

I have testified many times to the thirty odd years I wrestled and even fought with God, all the while sensing the truth of his existence. One of the areas of my greatest difficulty was reconciling an all-powerful God who is loving but who could simultaneously allow evil and suffering to exist. I was not alone in this deep reservation. It’s one of the most common reasons people reject the Christian framework.

Now, people who do not believe in evil probably don’t have this problem. Of course, the Naturist cannot believe in evil. Evil implies a moral force. A distinction that is universal and absolute. If one ascertains that an act of another is evil, no argument from the other that it is perfectly acceptable (not just justified but acceptable or even good) will hold water.

Do we have to look far to find examples of evil? Jeffrey Dahmer. Dachau. Sadism. Something told me long ago that there was such a thing as evil. Transcendent evil. The lusting after pain and anguish. No one has ever described an animal as evil. But, man, yes.

My battle was between my innate recognition that there was such a thing as transcendent evil (a force for destruction that existed outside of nature and was absolute) and my resistance to believe that it could be personified. I struggled with this immensely.

For a variety of reasons, I no longer struggle. I will not take the time here to detail how this came about. But, it did. And, I am completely convinced that there are what we can call demonic forces that influence human behavior.

Now, that statement alone might cause some to be repelled. But, as a literate and fairly scientific rationalist of the 21^st century, I can honestly say that I fundamentally believe in angels and demons. And, I believe my belief, or faith, is completely supported by reason. This places me at odds with modern sensibilities but I think I deserve the right after thirty years of looking at this from every angle. Yes, Evil exists and it exists to distract us from God. It exists to whisper and tempt that we are as good as God and do not need him. He is irrelevant. It exists to tell us that there is nothing greater than self-love (narcissism). That forgiveness is unnecessary and that grace is a sign of weakness. That the world exists for our benefits, for our personal pleasure and that we have a right to be happy however we decide to realize that happiness and at whatever the cost to others.

This concluding phrase of the prayer is commonly read as “deliver us from evil,” not, “deliver us from the evil one.” I opt for the latter translation. God has an antithesis and it is a battle, something I may write more about at some point. Regardless, the plea is for deliverance. Please pull us away from evil’s grasp. Please free us from its seductive tugs that tell us that the violence visited upon others (Dahmer and Dachau to suggest the extreme) is a good thing. And, for all of the lesser whisperings that tell us we are really not unconditionally loved, that we are masters of our fate (the world be damned), that we deserve all we can get, that everything is relative and nothing true … please deliver us.

Now, the public rendition of Jesus’ prayer adds this conclusion“For thine is the Kingdom and the power and the glory. Forever and ever. Amen.” The record doesn’t include this but, instead, Jesus goes on with his teaching on other matters.

Our father in heaven, hallowed be your name.

Your kingdom come, your will be done,

On earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our debts,

As we forgive our debtors.

And lead us not into temptation,

But deliver us from the evil one.

Amen.

Maybe some day I’ll pray this prayer with the discipline it took to record all of these thoughts.

Lord, thank you for helping us to know you better and to understand and live your will for us. Please forgive us when we rush right through the most basic of things, neglecting to pay them the attention they and you deserve. We are grateful that you are both holy and accessible. You, better than us, know that we face many difficulties and challenges in this life. Thank you for the simplicity of this prayer that simultaneously cuts to the core and shakes the world. May we honor it and you fully. Amen.

 

 

 

I couldn’t let the moment pass by. I stopped organizing and packing for the trip for a bit and picked up another remarkable book by Tim Keller that I’m reading. At the risk of possibly repeating myself (sometimes, I can’t remember exactly what I’ve written before), if you asked me to name three, four or five people, currently living that I’d like to have a two hour private dinner with, he’d be one. With a gentle rain falling outside, something he said in the current chapter, entitled “An Identity That Doesn’t Crush You or Oppress Others,” made me reflect back on our hour-long conversation this morning with my Monday Men’s group.

I have mentioned them before. We started ten and a half years ago, just five of us, in the aftermath of the suicide of the only child of kind and gentle Rex and Connie, who served in ministry at a local church. Todd suffered from mental illness and Rex and Connie devote much of their lives now to supporting mental health. We now have ten men, although we are losing one (and his young family) to the mission field in far north Alaska where he will be a pilot. Ostensibly, our weekly session now goes from 6:15-7:15am. It’s frequently quite dark when we begin but we all emerge with hearts lightened when we leave. These are all good and caring men as we wrestle with all of the issues regarding life as followers of Jesus.

This morning, we concluded the book we’ve been deeply into for the past several months. It is entitled A Long Obedience in the Same Direction and is a study on the 15 psalms, collectively known as the Songs of Ascent. I mentioned this in my first post in this latest flurry, on December 5. The last chapter has the theme of Blessing. The psalm which is the basis for this theme is the 134^th. It is very short and to the point.

As we are blessed, so we should bless God. That might sound simple but, as always, we had a robust discussion. What does blessing mean, actually? What is being blessed like? How have we experienced it? How do we bless others? And, interestingly, how can we bless God? As Tony (who is very bright and always keenly observant) commented something like this, “I mean, we can always use blessings, but how in the heck do you bless God? It’s not like he needs our blessings and after all, he’s God!” We laughed and nodded our heads, becoming silent for a few moments.

Something remarkable happens in a blessing. While I never really thought about the term much until ten or twelve years ago, I knew I had benefited from the care and kindness of others. I had received gifts that helped me immensely. And, I knew that I had offered similar gifts to others. But, I didn’t really understand the concept of Blessing.

I remarked to the group that I felt true blessing as an expression of the state of Grace, another unfamiliar concept until this latest period of my life. In the ideal, that state is when two or more individuals are incredibly close and the love pours out as a gift. It is a heart thing. It is received as the breath of life. It fills the lungs and soul. When, from God, there is nothing like it. A blessing is a gift of self, an opening and a deliverance. An outpouring that is grounded in love. And when that comes from God, oh my.

Yes, we can issue perfunctory blessings, of which I have no problem. The fact that people will pause to recognize they are not the centers of the universe, speaking words to that effect, is a good thing.

Most frequently, we ask for blessings, although with our annual Christmas/Holiday cards, we often share abbreviated forms of blessings, asking people to receive peace, love, hope and joy.

But, a blessing is a gift. It is not unattached. It is not just a thing that is out there.

A state of grace is living within a reality that says I am here as gift. Not as a gift but as gift. For those who make themselves open to receiving gifts, relinquishing the hard exterior that says I am the master of my fate and I don’t need handouts, a life of gift receiving and gift giving is the only kind of life worth living.

And, from within that life, experiencing God’s blessings is something that is only praiseworthy. It is worth the highest form of Praise. Which is what the psalmist means and it’s what the tens of thousands of Jews sang from their hearts as they tread up the hill to worship the one true God in Jerusalem. We are truly blessed. In good times and bad.

But, to get to Tony’s excellent question about how we can bless God …

I believe it’s just the same, but in reverse. Just as God adores us, we burst forth with adoration. Just as God surrendered himself to become flesh, live among us and die for us, showing us who he is and what life with him is like, we surrender in return, exclaiming, “Here I am, Lord. Take me.” We offer ourselves right back. That is blessing God. It is in the offering. Open. Full. Vulnerable.

Gary reminded us of one of his favorite songs (and mine), entitled “Blessed Be Your Name,” as sung by Matt Redman.

Here are its lyrics:

Blessed be Your name

In the land that is plentiful

Where your streams of abundance flow

Blessed be Your name

 

Blessed be Your name

When I’m found in the desert place

Though I walk through the wilderness

Blessed be Your name

 

Every blessing You pour out, Ill

Turn back to praise

When the darkness closes in, Lord

Still I will say

 

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your name

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your name

 

Blessed be Your name

When the sun’s shining down on me

When the world’s ‘all as it should be’

Blessed be Your name

 

Blessed be Your name

On the road marked with suffering

Though there’s pain in the offering

Blessed be Your name

 

Every blessing You pour out, I’ll

Turn back to praise

When the darkness closes in, Lord

Still I will say

 

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your name

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your name

 

You give and take away

You give and take away

My heart will choose to say

Lord, blessed be Your name

 

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your name

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your name.

Before leaving this topic, I should share that we discussed what it’s like to be in a dark place, not feeling any blessings, not feeling either praise-worthy or of offering praise. This is a hard one.

As the lyrics remind us, when the darkness closes in, still we can offer praise.

Diane and I have someone we’re very close to, a most wonderful woman we love dearly, who is suffering right now. Suffering terribly. It came on suddenly like a sledge hammer to disrupt a life. She has struggled nearly desperately to overcome this affliction. Just as she has been a beacon to all who know her, she is now surrendering to the love and care of others. And, throughout, she has not lost her faith and the knowledge that she is both loved nearly immeasurably here in this life and completely immeasurably by God.

And, it’s that knowledge that God is faithful, despite our afflictions … that he is loving despite not receiving love in return … that his grace is without bounds … all of this is sustaining. It is the breath of life.

For many years now, I am quite aware of the fact that I’m living on borrowed time. I’ve written about it. And, being borrowed, it doesn’t truly belong to me. I am dependent. My experience of a year ago only emphasizes this fact.

But, here’s the thing about borrowing. Although my life is borrowed, the mortgage has been paid in full. The debt is clear.

In my surrender and thanksgiving, I can’t help but praise. You are the breath of life. The living water. Only if I could learn how to be a better blessing to others … the people I come into contact with each day. I fall so short. But, just as the Psalms of Ascent describe a journey, a pilgrimage of transformation, so is this life.

Thank you for my life and all of the blessings You bestow. I can’t help but kneel in gratitude. In turn, I lift my hands up to you, Lord. Blessed be the name of the Lord. Blessed be your name.

Well, this past month has been something, as least as far as my call to write. I just counted 18 posts in 33 days. From feeling little or no inclination to write since last spring, it was like someone turned on the firehose. As I’ve said repeatedly, I rarely know where I’m going when I sit down with my laptop. Very different from all of those academic papers where I conducted research, framed complex outlines and redrafted before completion. This is just basically stream of consciousness with a quick once over to correct typos. With that in mind, I apologize for times when I’m unclear … which could mean any number of things, all my fault.

Anyway, we’re off on our long-planned road trip this Wednesday. It’s the same trip we’d set up last year that had to be called off at the last moment due to my illness. Wednesday night in Cedar City, UT, before heading to Edwards, CO, to stay five nights with our dear friends, Sharon and Rich Brower. Our other dear friends, Tim and Anita Asfazadour are flying to Denver on Thursday. We’ll hopefully have four days of snowshoeing (probably at 10,000 feet) and enjoying God’s beautiful creation. On the following Tuesday, Diane and I head off to the Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado, home of the Indian cliff dwellings. We’ll spend two nights and a full day there, exploring. Then, off for a quick stop over at the Grand Canyon National Park, another two nights and a full day. Finally, over to Yuma where Diane’s sister Carol and her husband Jack are wintering. Diane’s other sister, Mary, will drive over from Idyllwild so the three sisters can be together. I’ll only spend a single night in Yuma before returning home on the 22nd. Diane and Mary will arrive here three days later.

Until then, blessings upon each and every one of you.

Brad

 

I said at the conclusion of my last post that I would share my answer in this one.

Unfortunately, that may not be exactly true. You see, my answer is more a sort of haze of experience and reflection that pulls me from one place towards another. In a sense, my answer continues to be made up of a bunch of questions born from the dissolution of previous answers.

That may seem just way over the top obtuse. I’m sorry. But, my answer will hopefully involve others asking similar questions as we sift through prior assumptions to seek what’s behind. Oh, it may not be of a Wizard of Oz magnitude. We’ll have to see.

I grew up a kind of early social justice warrior before that term became commonplace as both lauded and decried. As a SJW, I looked out for the poor and oppressed and tried to promote liberty, opportunity and justice for all, marching, working in the barrios and ghettos, campaigning for this or that cause. So, teaching and learning in schools was a place to represent the associated ideals and to inculcate their values. Only when I experienced a school falling apart at the seams that had worked hard at this, did I begin to question if I was really missing something.

In the years that followed, as I was asked to help build and open a brand new large high school as principal and to structure its curriculum and culture top to bottom, I began to experiment with a shift in my approach to school leadership. We started that school with two simple core values. While simple on the surface, they were deep in potential and meant to be integrated everywhere. By focusing on just two and agreeing they were core, no mistake could be made as to what we were about and what was important. We wanted solid ground. Not sand. They were (and remain after I departed): Challenging everyone to do great things and to be nurturing of one another. We would both expect the best and care the most. That’s it. The goal was to infuse all meetings, conversations, endeavors and programs with these as the fuel. Despite our many lapses and our inability to always live by our two core values, we did OK. Well, more than OK. It’s not surprising the school flourished.

Do really good stuff. Be kind, compassionate and loving. Figure it out. Stay focused. Everything proceeds from those two things.

I left that school a different person than when I began. And, now, some five years later, my thinking has continued to evolve. What had begun in the crises of that one year of 2000-2001, and morphed into experiment about culture and core objectives in subsequent years, is continuing to percolate as I ask, “what’s the point?”

Because, you see, I want to know what’s behind the curtain of Oz.

We all suffer from a kind of Oz syndrome (I just thought that up as I’m typing and am not sure if it’s silly or relevant!). We think something is real and profound until we search and work and suffer and find out we were mistaken. What was promised just didn’t deliver.

What is the truth that lies obscured? What is it that makes a human fully human and why is that something you can take to the bank?

Because if we can’t answer that question, what business do we have saying we know how to “grow” young people into adults?

Yes, what business do we have?

Here’s what I believe.

Humans are meant to be unique individuals, each endowed with very specific gifts. We are all not the same in that we have different gifts but that we are completely equal in our value. Our gifts are manifested as skills, and when expressed, seem natural and without effort. We are not accidents nor mere physical/chemical/biological groups of particles that happen to coalesce in random moments. We have meaning.

Does that sound religious? Oh well. You are welcome to the alternative.

We are meant for purpose and that purpose is profoundly good. It is not bad. While this is of course debatable, it is also non-negotiable. A fundamental truth. Contrary to the belief of some that we are born good and learn bad, we are born into nature which is cold and unforgiving, ultimately heartless. While remarkably beautiful and majestic, it is a violent place that rewards the strong and cunning and defeats the weak and vulnerable. This is the state of nature. Humans are the same flesh and blood as beasts yet we have something different. We have a conscience and the will to be different. We are given the ability to think and make judgments, to develop principles and the morality that those principles demand.

To construct a society that ignores this truth is to deny this truth and set out on a different path. That path ultimately leads to a place of value neutrality, no matter how you try to deny it. We can construct platforms of rules based upon principles that, in the end, are subject to the question upon which they ultimately rest. Oz.

What does this mean for schools and learning? Well, it means we need to be honest.

Had I to do it over again, I would do it differently.

I would be honest to teach that material wealth does not lead to happiness, nor is happiness an ideal that should be at all recognized as a reasonable objective in life. It is fragile and ephemeral and, honestly, a pretty unsatisfying deal. In its place, I would ask students to explore the idea of contentment, even when faced with major struggles. And, I would ask them to consider the idea of joy and the conditions under which joy appears.

I would teach that the most important thing we could do each day is look at the person next to us is seek to know what they hope for and what they worry about. To see if there is any way that we can bring a little bit of joy or light into their life. That is the most important thing we could do each day and every day for the rest of our lives. Period.

I would require every student to serve an internship in a place where people suffer, whether from extreme poverty, neglect, illness, harsh disability, or any other condition where life has dealt a bad hand. I would ask them to learn what these people fear and what they hope for, what hurts them and what they enjoy. I would require these students to reflect on their experience and write extensively on what they believe the meaning of human life is.

I would teach that our job as young adults is to be extremely wary of pride as a distractor from what is most valuable. Instead, let us, as young adults, see ourselves as the least of those around us. Let us open our hearts to empathy and compassion in exchange for minds bent upon conquest. I would teach that.

I would teach that we are all captives to lies. To the lies that a treadmill of productivity and creativity and wealth generation, while leading to comfort or better health, you name it, are not what is important. While certainly, yes, we want to feed and clothe and assist people in pulling out of pain and destitute circumstances, the primary goal is to free them from the lie that they exist without hope and that hope lies in consumption. No, hope lies in the realization that we are free to love and be loved.

I would teach that careers and financial independence are but chimeras, things hoped for but illusive. They are means, not ends.

I would teach the concept of community, not as something government imposed or a utopian concept, but as an organic thing that springs up naturally, because we are hard-wired for relationships. I would ask students to define the values of a good community and to do some very specific things to strengthen the community of their choice.

I would require every student in their last year to develop a vision for their life. They would have been working towards this for years. It will be founded on fundamental principles and incorporate a set of values. They would articulate the knowledge and experience that support this vision. Additionally, they would consider the pathway ahead and the means they would employ in order to achieve that vision. And, I would require that all of their teachers would share their own vision as we model the importance of being grounded and this is not just an academic exercise.

I would teach every day that we should be slow to judge and quick to love. Period.

What is the point? That’s the point.

For, to choose any other path is to ignore the fundamental reality that that’s what we’re meant for. That’s what it means to be fully human. Loving, Kind, Patient, Compassionate. Focused on what’s really important.

Oh, and, strong and resourceful and courageous. For that’s what it takes to live this kind of life in a world that teaches something very different. Just ask Martin Luther King. Just ask Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Just ask Jesus. These people are celebrated. Do we really ask what made them tick?

So, we can build and run schools that teach creativity, productivity, citizenship, critical thinking, teamwork and the whole litany. We can and should teach a vast array of important skills, both basic and advanced. But, beneath and beyond it all, do we teach that which is so much more important? How to live humbly, patiently, kindly, compassionately? Do we teach that happiness is but mist and can dissolve at the blink of an eye? Do we teach that equality means we are all of the same value, although we demonstrate vastly different native skills and inclinations? Do we teach that freedom can only happen when we let loose of the fiction that material gain will truly make a difference in our lives?

Do we teach that the measure of a person is the relationships they nurture, the lives they are part of, both in joy and sorrow? That an appropriate epitaph is not one that says,”he who dies with the most toys, wins.”

Yes, maybe we should teach that the core of being human is to fight hard to gain the most advantage over everyone else. Dominance is the highest virtue. Climb the ladder at all costs.

Or, maybe we should teach that we humans are perfectible, not flawed, and the way to achieve perfectibility is to slice away at the imperfections, especially in others.

Or, maybe we should teach that there is no absolute value in the work we do. That it’s all in the cause of something greater down the road, even if it’s unseen. Yes, let’s not consider the consequences of our work because that takes too much work in itself. “I am important and my work is important, therefore it does not make a difference what it leads to.” Zyklon B. Look it up.

I see it differently.

I regret that I did not realize many of these things earlier. I’m convinced I’d have been a better father, husband, friend, teacher and principal.

On the other hand, I rest in the knowledge that I was born with a caring heart and a discerning mind. I also rest in the knowledge that my life is a journey, just as it is for everyone, and I need to keep my eyes focused on the most important things. I may stumble and fall short. I may examine my behavior and find it lacking and others may have good cause to look at me critically. But, I’m grateful for a voice that calls me to deep and helps me to shed the things that distract me from what really matters.

What’s the point? I think I’ve done what I can to make my case. Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I ended Part I with the question of what we replace the sand with.

I was referring to my belief that we build the foundation for our inclinations too frequently on a house of cards … another way of saying they are fundamentally based on the sifting nature of sand.

We build castles of understanding and complex structures of ideas and programs and assumptions that we way too frequently don’t take the time and energy to dissect. We rush off to expound this or that set of really profound ideas that get us TED talks or assignment as Thought Leaders of temporary import as if we have come up with something unique in the course of human history. I observe as this fact intersects with current technologies that make conversation happen at light speed. This is the reality of current discourse on, you name it, the subject of the moment.

But, presently, I’m here to talk about schools and learning and the point of it all.

We can put our money on creativity or productivity or the creation of critical thinkers or problem solvers or the formation of citizens who are tolerant or appreciate freedom or equality or tolerance or who are prepared to function as responsible members of a democratic society, all noble sounding goals.

But, still, we have to ask what is our principal objective?

As I tried to outline before, in close examination, these values are means towards something that has to be more foundational.

If a student asks, “why is it important that I acquire knowledge?” we should have a very good answer that holds up to layers of precise dissection.

I covered some common responses in my last post. I’m afraid they end up as hollow points.

If that point is Happiness, come on. Happiness is as ephemeral as mist if anyone is honest about it. Nice mist to build a statement that it’s an unalienable right around. Don’t get me started.

Really, what is it that we should want everyone to know and experience and build their lives around? Isn’t that the point? Shouldn’t that be the basis of education?

Or, put slightly differently, of all the things we want young people to acquire in terms of the core things we believe are foundational for leading a good life, what does it come down to?

Of course, we have to determine what the core principles of leading a good life are!

I guess that means we have to define what a good life would look like, in theory.

Absent all of that, I wonder what the point of education is?

Well, here is where the rubber hits the road. Here is where I challenge every policy maker, every parent, every culture to consider what they want from their schools and bureaucracies that support them.

Name it.

And, then, question it to see if it’s truly a foundational value upon which all other values can stand solidly against all obstacles.

Morality gets a bad rap. That wasn’t always the case, of course, but these days it does. As it should in a post-modern world that defines truth as just being honest with one’s self about how you feel. More and more people seem to take umbrage at any suggestion that there are principles extrinsic to their own inclinations. How oppressive! “Who or what has the right to tell me what is right or wrong, good or bad?”

Well, my handy dandy little dictionary app defines morality as “principles concerning the distinction between right and wrong or good and bad behavior.”

That’s a mouthful. First of all, it’s about principles (defined as “fundamental truths or propositions that serve as the foundation for a system of belief or behavior or for a chain of reasoning”) that are actually the guidelines whereby we can make judgments. And, then, it’s about the concepts of right and wrong and good and bad.

So, what we “value” is based upon guiding principles that help us to determine what we believe are good and bad and right and wrong.

What does this have to do with school and learning?

As we’ve seen by dissecting a hypothetical mission statement that says schools are about “producing” creative and productive young adults who are able to demonstrate critical thinking (sound reasoning) and who are prepared to assume a constructive role in a society that believes in freedom and liberty and some form of democracy, we need to determine what we actually “want” about those things.

These terms and concepts are actually “value-neutral” when viewed practically. And, something that is practically value neutral makes a very bad ideal because it tends to collapse.

In other words, we can say that this or that creative expression or produced object or service is quite good or we can say it is quite bad. We do this naturally all of the time. And we can say that this particular line of reasoning has brought us to hope or to despondency. It has brought us to loving others or hating others. This particular act of initiative has resulted in saving thousands of lives or it has destroyed thousands of lives.

So, please no one tell me that they don’t believe in guiding principles or morality. We all do, all of the time. And, in fact, a lot of the actions taken by adults in schools are designed to promote principled living and moral behavior, although most of it is through behavior modifying techniques that, at least to some extent, are meant to keep the place from blowing up.

But I have to say that I have seen little evidence of curriculum built around teaching our young to be good as opposed to bad and why they should be good as opposed to bad. Furthermore, we don’t spend much time at all talking about character traits we believe are good or bad and what right and wrong behavior really look like and how a person develops a set of principles by which to guide the rest of their lives.

Oh sure, we do touch on a number of them. These days, we spend time dealing with the concept of Tolerance (which is taught as a good), although I have real trouble with it as a principle. To tolerate is such a passive concept, as in “I can live with that.” It doesn’t mean support. It doesn’t mean “believe in.” It doesn’t pull me to something greater. Of course, it only gets worse. I can go off on how it’s actually taught and reinforced in some venues, turning it into a bludgeoning tool in the extreme forms.

We do teach character traits that are bad. We teach that racism is bad, however we define the term. We teach that it’s bad to “discriminate” against anyone on the basis of their skin color, ethnicity, gender, or sexual orientation. We teach the histories of discrimination and the battle for equal rights. In other words, we teach that the value of discrimination (really, a form of oppression) is bad while the value of equal rights is good. This is probably the one area we come closest to invoking guiding principles in school. In principle, everyone and their beliefs deserves some kind of respect and everyone deserves equal rights.

As legislatures and school boards who determine what it is we’re supposed to teach, largely, these are the most dominant values-based principles incorporated into regular formal learning. Of course we teach other values, such as it’s good to tell the truth and bad to lie. It’s good to resolve conflict non-violently. Fighting is bad. It’s good to respect one another. It’s bad to use drugs, alcohol and tobacco unless you’re an adult and can control your intake. And, then, it may still be bad, depending.

The point is, we do teach a handful of principles and values, both formally and informally. As those who control the school’s environment (government, administrators, teachers, support staff), we accept these as part of the job. Nearly all schools do this and have been doing this. I should know. That’s where I lived and I’m married to a teacher.

But, I contest, we’re leaving a lot on the sidelines and that’s why I’m writing these pieces.

* * *

Allow me to tell a story. A rather long one that dramatically reshaped how I looked at my job and the job we were all tasked to do.

I had been principal of Grossmont High School in the eastern portion of San Diego County for just less than a year and a half, my first job as principal. I assumed leadership of the oldest school in the region, founded in 1922. It was the flagship school (the first of ten high schools in that district) and had a long and proud history. While the campus was in desperate need of modernization and their academic performance had been slowly falling off, it was a proud school, diverse ethnically and socio-economically. A good staff who cared about their work and a student body for the most part who liked coming to school. It was November 2000 when one of our students jumped from the Coronado Bridge, killing himself.

Now, any student death is mourned deeply on a high school campus. In my experience, we will lose one every two or three years, to either accident, illness or drugs. Suicides, however, are much more rare and especially difficult to process. But, we took all of the appropriate measures, requiring a lot of resources, and started the new calendar year with the event largely behind us.

In February (now in 2001), we lost another student to suicide. I believe it was an intentional drug overdose. This is highly unusual and ripped the bandage off our healing scar and brought us right back into a dark place. Again, we applied all available resources as our community tried to process the grief and ask questions about how these two things could have happened. Where were the signs? What could we have done differently. It was rough.

On March 5 at maybe around 9am, I was down in the band room, meeting with a teacher when I was called on the radio to return to the office immediately. There, I learned there had been a shooting at neighboring Santana High School and it was bad. I had participated in a daylong SWAT simulation as a vice principal in the aftermath of the Columbine shooting and those experiences were fresh in my mind as I rushed to the adjacent campus to see how I could be of support. The principal and one of the vice principals were very close friends.

The principal asked me to stay by her side as the world descended on her school. Law enforcement everywhere. News stations gathering by the dozens. Hundreds or thousands of people milling around in the shopping center across the street. The principal asked me if I would accompany her to the Taco Bell to tell two parents that their son was dead. I sat in the little booth, just the four of us, overcome with the enormity of the tragedy. I quickly learned that my other good friend, the vice principal, had held one of the two boys who were killed that day, dying in her arms. That evening, my friend, the principal, was on national television, under the kliegs, holding the press conference like so many we’ve come to accept. I was a few feet away, still trying to offer support.

The shock wave spread everywhere and school became really hard. Staff, students, parents all overcome by grief. And of course, we had just lost two of our own.

Seventeen long and very difficult days later, on March 22, a student who I had asked be removed from my school, shot up Granite Hills High School, another school in our district, the principal of which was another friend. The shooter wounded a number of people, including a teacher and a vice principal, as well as other students. Fortunately, none died. It was a Thursday.

I received a call late Sunday night that one of my own students had attempted to hang himself in a public park Friday night and was on life support. I went to his bedside in the hospital early Monday morning and was with him and his family for quite awhile. He died that day.

That same Monday night, another of my students committed suicide by overdosing. It was now Tuesday morning. For all practical purposes, my school was ceasing to function. Four suicides in four months. Two shooting deaths. Another school shot up. Students and staff weeping uncontrollably, bomb and shooting threat graffiti appearing on restroom stalls, parents refusing to let their children come to school. I was losing the school.

No words can describe what we were going through. How does anyone describe when the system begins go fall apart? When whatever had bound a community together was now being shredded? We were a good school with good people and good kids, teaching the right stuff. How could this happen? In any event, during that week, we were only in survival mode. The spring break started on Saturday but what were we to do from Tuesday through Friday?

To make a long story a bit shorter, we completely improvised and I made the decision that we would focus on just one thing. Caring for one another. Just one thing. We had but one core value, one guiding principle that transcended or underlay all other values and principles. We would care for one another. So the next days were fevered activity as we put together the elements to infuse the entire school community with care. We brought in scores of resources, from the San Diego Chargers to social services to restaurants to anyone who would assist us with our core value. And, on Friday, after all of the Geometry students had figured out how our entire student body and staff could line up in a circumference around the entire campus (all 2600 of us!), holding hands, we did just that, with helicopters flying overhead, with me on the public address system (holding hands) talking about love and the importance of community and caring for one another. It was an indelible moment.

In the following months, we built resource centers, worked with big foundations and government services, restructured how we spoke with kids and parents and how we could implement strategies for kids to process fears and anxieties. We made it to summer.

We returned to school just after Labor Day and on that first day, we recreated the linked hands and arms to demonstrate to ourselves and the world that we were a community that cared.

Less than two weeks later, on September 11, 2001, school was just starting when I was alerted. I watched as those terrible events unfolded and went on the public address system to tell 2600 people that we were under attack and at war, at the same time trying to calm them and help them to make sense of it.

That night, one of my freshman girls put a gun to her head and killed herself.

10 months. Five student suicides. Two neighboring schools shot up with multiple wounded and two dead. 9/ll.

We can talk all about creativity, productivity, critical thinking, citizenry, democracy, equality.

What’s the point?

Next: I hope to conclude with my answer.

 

Most of us know more than one or two things about school. After all, when you spend anywhere from thirteen to seventeen or more years involved in the thing, you acquire a certain expertise. And opinions.

I used to have to exercise more than a little patience with parents and people at large who wanted to assert their expertise on this or that dimension of the whole thing. I’d sigh in private and couldn’t help thinking it would be like yours truly who has driven cars for many decades … without a single ticket I might add … sharing all sorts of wisdom about how the vehicle actually works, when in fact my knowledge is extremely limited. Is there any other field where so many people have so much experience and so many opinions?

I have written several books on education in my head. And, many people who have worked with me have urged me to do the real thing. Some of those thoughts have been flights of fancy. Say after a 16 hour day as a high school principal or assistant principal when any single hour, pick it, would have stunned the uninitiated into silence. As in they’d never believe it. Probably not that different from the reflections of an ER physician or nurse in an urban hospital or a soldier boots on the ground in a forward base. You need to have been there …

In my twenty years leading schools I can pretty honestly say I wasn’t bored for five minutes. Way too much going on. Way too much to do. Life often on overdrive as thousands congregated at all hours, bringing all of their wonder and dread and hopes and fears and abilities and disabilities. Oh, and yes, we were charged with educating them. Taking something limited and malleable and fashioning it into something … well, something.

I’m a veteran of both private and public education, although not in equal measure. Not counting nursery school, I spent something around 25 years in school to get my degrees and various credentials, all but four years of which were in public schools. I also spent approximately 35 years working in and with schools, all but 9 years of which were public. That’s 60 years (some contiguous) engaged in education as student, teacher, site and district leader and consultant.

I’ve written countless papers on education, taught and run countless workshops and trainings, trained countless students, teachers and educational leaders, have developed boatloads of programs and contributed to a massive supply of curriculum and instructional materials. I’ve probably considered every piece of educational philosophy there is and have watched as a seemingly endless supply of initiatives have been developed and frequently discarded. I’ve been desperately chilled by the magnitude of issues facing the entire thing while being filled with immense joy at the many successes (most small but some large) that occur on a regular basis.

So, I think I’ve gained the right to ask, “What’s the point?”

Oh, we can discuss all of the points and there are many. But, I’m asking what’s THE point?

I’ve heard all of the lesser points and agree that many of them are extremely worthy, even fundamentally necessary. But, in the latter part of my career, more and more I pondered what’s the underlying and organizing principle upon which all else stands?

If you’ve been reading my musings, you’ll probably recognize where I will be going. We pay attention to all sorts of things, prioritizing this or that, considering the value of this or that thing. But, I’ll toss it out that, for most of us, we don’t spend the time and energy to really inquire what’s behind our motivation to do or value these things.

As a quick aside, every school is supposed to have a mission statement in some form or other. In fact, while great deliberation goes into developing these for all sorts of reasons, only rarely do they actually mean anything practically. And, frequently for good reason.

Some of us used to get jaded and try to create the perfect mission statement that reflects every other school’s mission statement. I’m a bit rusty but it may have read something like this: “The Mission of Albert Einstein School is to create lifelong learners who will become productive and creative citizens in our democratic society.”

You like it?

What’s not to like? Who’s going to stand up and say lifelong learning is a bad thing? Who’s going to say we don’t want our kids to become productive (make stuff or make stuff happen) or creative (think on their own, show initiative and demonstrate unique qualities)? Who’s going to say we don’t want them to be citizens (people who have a stake and share some equivalencies)? And, who is going to argue against democracy (that complicated political philosophy that says everyone should have some kind of voice in the way things get done)? Great!

Except, I have to ask, where does all of this lead?

Let’s step back for a moment but, first, I’ll gladly say there’s a lot I like about our standard mission statement for schools as they express their purpose for existing. I’m a big fan of humans being both productive and creative. I’m a big fan of people participating in making decisions about how their lives should be lived and how we organize structures to enhance our lives. And, I’m a big fan of people learning throughout their lives. I’d have to object to someone telling me in my dotage that it’s time to stop learning anything!

So, what’s the problem? Well, bluntly, none of the operatives in that mission statement says anything about what they’re for, with the possible exception of creating citizens for a democratic society, whatever that means.

For starters, let’s take productive. What do we want them to produce? Are we comfortable with students who graduate from our schools and universities producing anything? Anything at all? Well, most people would say we want someone to produce the cure for cancer or cold fusion or anything to make us live life more comfortably and cheaply. Probably not much argument there and I’ll probably come back to that. Are we comfortable with them producing guidance systems for military drones? Whoa. Hmmm. Well, maybe some of us are fans of drones and some aren’t. Are we comfortable with them producing genetically modified organisms to do all sorts of creative thing with life forms? Whoa. Again, some yes and others no. Are we comfortable with them producing media accessed by millions that objectify women, ethnic minorities, religious groups, and the list goes on.

To be honest, we like when people produce things that we like and we don’t like it when they produce things we really don’t like. But, we can maybe still support the value-less concept of productivity because we can’t conceive of not promoting it. Where would we all be, then?

And, the same goes with creativity. In the modern and current post-modern eras, creativity is a really big thing. Expression is a biggy. Freedom to express is right at the top of the most valued things. Except when someone else’s creativity impinges upon my creativity. Then we have problems.

When you think about it, Mein Kampf is a pretty creative piece of political literature, the production of which was accomplished despite prison conditions that resulted from Adolf Hitler’s arrest after some considerable disobedience. Much like Letters from a Birmingham Jail were produced by Martin Luther King while imprisoned for considerable disobedience. Both were watershed documents whose gestations were similar, the results of fertile minds.

Or, take for example the creative production of the atomic bomb, whose “father” Robert Oppenheimer quoted Hindu deity Vishnu at the first Trinity explosion:

“Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”

Let’s now shift momentarily over to the citizen/democracy dimension before getting to the real meat of where I want to go.

At the risk of being incredibly simplistic, I’ll lay out that I think a citizen is one who is invested in the community. He or she has a stake in the community and feels both a responsibility to contribute to its functioning (or even flourishing) with the right to receive some kinds of benefits. The political philosophy that best represents this is a thing we call democracy, however misunderstood that concept is. (After all, everyone uses it, even brutal dictators who argue they’re only being brutal because they have to oppress people’s freedom in order to eventually get them to be free. Before leaving that line of thinking, however, this logic is also used by non brutal dictators to push limitations on freedoms in the name of enhancing freedom and democracy. The Libertarian Party has a small place at the table of American politics because of this issue.)

Back to our point. The concept of citizen is to be invested in the community. Now, interestingly, the concepts of community and individuality can often act as contradictions. Not necessarily so but they certainly can. A citizen in a community voluntarily gives up freedom for the greater good. This sacrifice is seen as a responsibility so that society can function and the rising tide will lift all boats, as the saying goes.

But, do we actually teach this? I mean, really invest in this?

Interestingly, to some degree we do. While we don’t do a particularly good job teaching history and “civics” anymore despite valiant attempts to do so, our 18 year olds as a whole are not graduating with a very developed sense of what being a citizen really is. Sure, we can teach some foundational principles but how much time and energy do we invest in training them for how to give as well as receive from the various communities they align with?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of compulsory education, subsidized through taxes in that education can produce good things, although not necessarily so. Interestingly, I do not believe a lack of what we would see as formalized education necessarily precludes the production of good things.

Now, the German people were arguably about the best educated people in the world in 1938. Compulsory education. Top universities.They certainly produced a whole lot of stuff and had lifted themselves out of the worst of all economic downturns. Did they make good citizens? Well, if you use Nietzsche’s metric, perhaps. The majority was certainly unified in their idea of their collective role and scope of responsibilities. And, the party that they ceded power and allegiance to was the National Socialist German Worker’s Party … very egalitarian in their terms. How is that?

So, we get to the heart of the matter. I used to think creativity and productivity were ends in themselves. After all, we were trying to “create” creative and productive young adults. But, just as our educational practices are means to something else (that is what education is “for” after all!), so are the so-called values of creativity and productivity. We can add to them things like critical thinking or taking initiative. Each of these are values, things we almost give lip service to as foundational truths to guide our practice in school. But, they only have value in relation to other things. What are those things?

For starters, Knowledge gets high marks. Most people would reflexively say that Knowledge is ipso facto a good thing. Uh, maybe. Or, maybe not necessarily.

Ok, let’s move the needle a little closer to what it is we value about Knowledge, say Wisdom. Now, one way of looking at Wisdom is to see it as good knowledge with the added feature of good judgment. We don’t typically refer to poorly constructed knowledge or knowledge that is destructive as wise.

There’s a certain attraction to thinking we want to create wise people through our compulsory educational system. These people will have the ability to think through things that are beyond our abilities and to help guide us in ways we’re not set up to consider. Unless, of course, their wisdom is extremely selective and under the influence of values more fundamental than wisdom.

As an aside, I’ve come across people that other people would consider very wise. At one time or another, I might have thought them wise. Now, I consider them only deluded. How is that?

It must be that we use different metrics. Different values that are essential to help us to determine what it is we want people to learn.

One of the hot topics these days is Artificial Intelligence. We are devoting unbelievable amounts of resources into its development, for all sorts of reasons. Tens of thousands, maybe even millions of young people are being trained in the skills that can help advance these technologies. You have to be a pretty creative, productive and knowledgeable person to work in these areas. Through AI, we can reach new levels of material wealth, better health, greater comforts, and who knows what else. I read about these things.

From The Singularity is Near homepage:

The Singularity is an era in which our intelligence will become increasingly nonbiological and trillions of times more powerful than it is today—the dawning of a new civilization that will enable us to transcend our biological limitations and amplify our creativity.

Or this from the beginning of the definition in Wikipedia:

Singularity is the hypothesis that the invention of artificial superintelligence will abruptly trigger runaway technological growth, resulting in unfathomable changes to human civilization.

Wow. The dawning of a new civilization. Runaway technological growth. Transcendence of biological limitations while amplifying our creativity. Heady stuff.

Is this my job as an instructional leader and an educational expert? To assist in the radical transformation of what it means to be human? To foster runaway (out of control) growth? To help usher in the dawn of a new civilization?

After all, that would mean the old concept of being human is assigned the trash heap. I guess that just might have some sort of impact on a thing like citizenship or democracy.

Oh yea. It also might have some kind of impact on such things as the notions of good and evil, any semblance of the moral kinds of structures that have guided all human civilizations, especially those in the Judeo-Christian traditions that value highly the importance and sanctity of the individual.

Or let’s just take Materialism. Is this a foundational value? There are, of course, some groups and cultures (largely non-western) that seek escape from the material world, some of whom profess it as an illusion. But most of the world is pretty absorbed in a material reality. Both Karl Marx (communist) and Adam Smith (capitalist) built their economic and political systems around some variation of the value of materialism. As does Madonna. 🙂

Is the goal of education to create material wealth in order for everyone to live longer or more comfortably or both? Is that what we should say to our students when they ask why we are seeking for them to be creative and productive and lifelong learners? And, what if the inquisitive young person asks how they will benefit from comfort or a long life? What do we say?

Will we say it will lead to you being happier? More content?

Now, we’re getting somewhere.

And, if they ask, “does comfort equal happiness? Are comfortable people happier? Is that the basis of happiness? Are people who have more material wealth and the goods that come with that wealth more content?”

“Are people in poverty less happy or content?” a bright student might ask. “And what of those whose lives were cut short from disease, disability or privation or who did not have the occasion to learn to read very well or to practice the scientific method? Their lives were certainly shorter and less comfortable. Did their lives contain less value?”

Anyone who professes easy answers to these questions, I insist, is jumping to conclusions too readily.

I have said before, we all value something or many things. We sometimes value things heavily of which we are unaware. Think on that. So, let’s peel away the outer layers and try to get to the kernel. Because, absent that, we are building our houses on sand, sorry to say. I should know. I happen to be quite the expert on education. 🙂

Next: What do we replace the sand with?

 

 

I stumbled across a really good article yesterday morning, written by a very bright guy. I liked it for a number of reasons. For starters, it was measured and it unfolded in a clear fashion. The title caught my attention but its true theme snuck up slowly but surely, making the title just a foreshadow of its depth. As anyone who is reading this knows, I have always liked to read and retirement has given me much more flexibility. While the internet drowns in all sorts of garbage, without a lot of difficulty I can find fascinating pieces that address my many interests (hopefully with the side benefit of staving off early onset dementia!). Well, this particular article touched on a wide range of disciplines, including politics, economics, science, history and psychology. I found it in a generally respected journal that puts out quarterly reviews. On a pretty consistent basis, I search for this kind of thing, relying on a few aggregating sites to provide me with a well-rounded supply of links to news and analysis. I’d say I’m more than a little diligent in trying to do two things: (1) Get multiple perspectives on the issues of the day, without consigning myself to the bubbles that popularly characterize most current information gathering and (2) seek knowledge in many different disciplines, including the ones mentioned in this article and more. As one who is stimulated by learning, I set out with these principles as guides.

I have rarely mentioned particular articles in these blogs and would have to take the time to go back to see if that’s even happened. I have tried to steer away from politics and some issues that people find so divisive, instead choosing to address themes that I believe we should all consider in some fashion.

Which brings me to this one. When it popped into my mind to write about Worry, I was struck with the irony that I’d do so in the first week of January, with the acclaims of “Happy New Year!” still ringing soundly. The most common image during the passing over of one calendar year to the next is of the old, decrepit man, wounded and stumbling, being replaced by the fresh infant, alive, and a sign of hope. We do this like clockwork, lamenting all of the terrible things that have occurred over the last twelve months, yet looking forward to the next as “it has to be better.” Well, maybe not all of us do this but many do so.

This recent election, of course, represents the swinging of a pendulum with a not-small percentage of our population truly anxious or worse about what’s going to happen next. Coupled with everything else (while a not-small percentage of our population is more hopeful than they’ve been in a long time) a whole lot of people are on edge.

Which brings me to the true basis of the article and the theme for this blog.

The author had picked a well-known issue that some people (a relatively small number of Americans but a high number of some influential international leaders) are extremely worried about, some claiming that it’s the issue we should be MOST worried about. Instead of doing what some people do by saying that this or that thing is the MOST important thing, he covered a lot of ground by examining how we choose what to worry about and then how we address those worries. By a lot of ground, he hit on most of the threats to our well-being that exist out there. And, there are some truly big ones. At the risk of really being depressing, when you hit on the dangers of nuclear proliferation (increasingly controlled by unstable leaders and governments), the spreading threats from terrorists who have access to all kinds of weapons and strategies, climate change and other environmental concerns including species extinctions, the fragility of economies and the possibility of economic meltdowns, pandemics of drug-resistant strains compounded by nearly instantaneous global travel, the possibilities that nanotechnologies and/or artificial intelligence will overwhelm our humanity, asteroid impacts, the massive migrations of peoples, dropping fertility rates that threaten the stability of economies, families and cultures, changing value systems, and …   Well, you get the picture. It’s enough to make us want to go back to bed and pull the covers over our heads.

And, oh, did I mention the things that consume us with worry that don’t qualify as existential threats to humanity? Our kids. Our jobs. Our standard of living. Retirement. Our marriage. Our lack of a marriage or life partner. Poor schools. Health. Violence in our community. You pick it.

In a very erudite way, he talked about how to measure worry and then the need to balance our worries so as not to get caught up in some isolated feedback loop. Obviously, there’s more than enough big things to worry about but we need to forge ahead and recognize the danger of getting caught up in the worry de jour and marching out to tell everyone that they have to worry most about the exact same thing. As he smartly points out, it doesn’t work that way. We really have a choice to do one of two things and this is my characterization: We can run around screaming “The Sky is Falling,” as Chicken Littles or we can take a breath and pick the alternative.

As attractive an alternative it is to be Chicken Littles (dystopian imagery is everywhere and takes many forms as we seek outlets for our nightmares), there’s a better way.

As hard as it can be, we can choose the things we feel the need to worry about. While this is much easier said than done, it is a choice.

I’m sure I wrote about this awhile back. It might have been when I wrote about Hope. (As I do this writing, I don’t like to stop, but instead forge ahead with the thought so I apologize for not going back to check.) I remember reading about this really smart cosmologist astronomer who thinks about very big and deep things about the universe who was almost paralyzed with the worry that eventually (many billions of years from now when the whole universe could end up being cold and dark) humanity would be wiped out. He saw it as inevitable and he’s probably right with a current scientific understanding of the universe. It made it difficult for him to get up in the morning. While this is an extreme example, many of us can relate to that kind of response to certain kinds of worry.

Ok, so yelling out warnings or responding with despondence is one direction. What is the other? What is meant by choosing what to worry about or choosing to set worry aside?

I’ve read some sage advice over the years (not that I’ve always taken it) that says we should only worry about the things over which we have control. So, let’s look at this for starters.

First, if we believe we are always supposed to be IN CONTROL, this can be a big problem. When we choose the path of rugged individualism and believe that our value is a derivative of what we feel and experience in the moment, that places us in a difficult situation. What alternative do we have to decry our predicament? When we feel that we need to be in control of our destiny yet are confronted by the obvious fact we’re not, we lash out. “If only I (or my current group of like-minded people) could get in control, I wouldn’t have to worry as much or anymore.”

Second, how do we pick and manage the things we believe we have some control over? That can still be a lot of stuff. But, at a minimum I know I can’t control asteroids or nuclear proliferation. In other words, at least we can begin to reorient our thought-lives so as to give up ownership of some of the beasts over which we really don’t exercise anything but the most miniscule influence. Now, the rebuttal to this says that we can ALL do something, even a little something, to help alleviate a problem. A good example is the environment. I can do my piece. I can buy a hybrid vehicle. Recycle. Vote for leaders who are against coal and other fossil fuels. Support international treaties by casting my vote for officials who think like me and trying to influence others to think like me. All of these things are reasonable but with a problem as complex as the environment, no solution is truly reassuring and there’s always more to do. (Should I stop flying which pours pollutants into the environment? Support wind energy that slaughters tens of thousands of birds, some of whom are protected? Buy batteries the manufacturing of which is terribly polluting?) Where does it all end?

Well, I can exercise some control over my health in that I watch what I eat and get some cardio in, maybe some weights. But, then, you always hear of people who do this getting cancer or dropping dead of a heart attack at a relatively young age.

I can love my kids, get them into decent schools, teach them right from wrong and all of that and then they go off and do something stupid, maybe even really stupid. Of course, there’s no correlation between good schooling and not doing stupid things. Most of us are good evidence of that!!

I can work hard at my job, conscientiously doing what is expected only to find myself laid off. I’ve seen it happen and despite my best efforts, I know it can happen to me.

Actually, I like this line of thinking a lot more than Chicken Little. At least, we’re narrowing the circumference. Sort of like tossing some things overboard in the lifeboat that are less necessary to survive, allowing us to move ahead with the workable stuff. We’re not standing up in the lifeboat, looking at the featureless horizon and shrieking “We’re all going to die!”

Yes, this is a workable strategy and in my opinion better than going down the road to either despondency or the realization that, eventually, we’re powerless to affect things that cause major worries.

The best way I’ve found this to work is to talk about the things that worry me with others who know me well and with whom I share a reasonably common set of values. By sharing and listening to others share, we gain perspective while also having the chance to prioritize and problem solve. This, of course, requires strong relationships built on trust where we give time and opportunity to live our lives in close community. Social media is not the answer, I’m afraid. While these kinds of relationships don’t erase cause for worry, I’ve found they reduce the tendency to unrealistically perseverate.

None of this is to suggest there are not big things that are happening in our lives right now that any reasonable person will worry about. Things that cause intense pain, either physical or emotional or both. But, having a community within which that pain can be processed is a very strong antidote.

Over coffee and discussion this morning, my good friend, Gary, reminded me of one of his favorite analogies. A simple story you might have heard and one of my favorites, too.

It goes something like this:

A man is walking down a long beach that is strewn with seemingly thousands of starfish. As he is considering the scope of what he sees, he observes another man, alone, who is carefully picking up single starfish and tossing them back into the sea. Puzzled, the first man approaches the second man and asks him how he can possibly think he is making a difference as the scope if far too great and his solution far too small. To which the second man replies as he tosses one more into the sea, “It makes a difference to that one.”

And that brings me to the more radical solutions, one of which I reject and the other to which I aspire.

I reject the fatalist who lives a life of abandonment. “Why should I worry? Nothing I do will make a difference. What will happen will happen. I will not be concerned about it. I am choosing not to care.” This line of thinking is seductively close to the next one I’ll raise but they are not the same. And the key is the nature of the abandonment. What and to what (or whom) are we abandoning? Connections in the world? A rejection that what is happening around us or to us or others is meaningless or an illusion? A rejection of the concept that I have a free will and can impact, to some extent, the world around me in a meaningful way?

The seduction here is in the belief that, in the end, we do not have purpose or meaning.

I can understand why this is compelling and has lured many. It is a reasonable alternative to the powerlessness we can feel when faced with so many threats.

And it’s those threats that are the bridge to the other radical solution.

Cutting away at all of the things we worry about, what lies at the center of each?

Is the threat to our physical safety or health? We’re all going to die. Do we fear loss of love? Isn’t all human love frail and fraught with pitfalls? Love is not equivalent with bliss. Do we fear loss of material wealth? What does that wealth provide for us? Food, Shelter, Clothing? Those are relatively easy to come by in very modest amounts these days … amounts that dwarf the common experience of people only a generation or two ago. What else does wealth provide? Security? Security from what? (See existential threats above.) Happiness? Nope. That’s been proven to be a fallacy. Experiences? Well, maybe but what kind of experiences? Anyway, we’ll lose our material wealth when we die. You can’t take it with you. Do we fear pain? Yes, most of fear pain, especially if it’s long lasting or permanent or very severe.

Full Disclosure: I worry about a lot of these things. I have an active mind, am engaged in the world, am inclined to be a problem solver and know more than a little about a number of things, some of which can easily drive me to worry.

So, it’s difficult for me not to worry. Sometimes very difficult. But, I have to say, I worry a lot less now than I used to.

You knew I’d get here. Matthew quotes Jesus in his chapter 6, verse 27: “Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” And in 6:34: “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” In between these two phrases, Jesus talks about how God looks out for us and cares for us in ways that are far greater than exist in this material life.

The person who does not share my beliefs may call me deluded. I may be criticized for manufacturing fantasies in order to assuage my well-grounded fears, by masking the realities with wishful thinking resting on the shakiest of foundations.

To which I answer, this reality is the only one I know now. While I do not understand it anywhere close to completely, I understand enough so that this rational mind is completely convinced.

Yes, I have died in order to be born. I never would have thought that possible in my wildest thinking. In fact, I thought it exceedingly foolish. It still sounds foolish but it’s not. And the reality is that there’s nothing I can do to escape the love and infinite favor our the God of all. Yes, I will suffer in this life and maybe greatly. Yes, I and others will face pain and calamities, some of which may be existential threats to our species.

One of the most powerful pieces of scripture is contained in the letter Paul (formerly the arch-enemy of the young Christian community) wrote to the church in Rome. We can make a choice to completely disbelieve what he says for all sorts of reasons. This is a man who suffered unbelievable pain and persecution. Beaten nearly to death multiple times, imprisoned repeatedly and eventually executed, probably by decapitation. In that letter he writes at the conclusion of Chapter 8, in verses 38 and 39: “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither in height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

If God who Jesus describes is real (and you know where Diane and I and many others stand on that), then I need to get up each morning, thankful for the many gifts I have, thankful for the joys that abound, steeled to meet the suffering that surrounds me and all of us with a hand of kindness and compassion and with a resolve that is firm and unyielding. And to greet that day as it might be the last or maybe the first in thousands more, facts over which I lack any kind of control. To get my head to worry less and to get my heart to love more. I sometimes feel I fall back more than I move forward. But really looking backwards into my past, I see no comparison.

This is what I mean to get my head to worry less and my heart to love more: If we can awake each day, ready to enjoy even the smallest of things and to consider the kinds of specific things we can do, not to make the world a better place, but to make someone’s life better in this world, then we are leading with our hearts. We will always have things to worry about and we will always need to pay attention to the things that matter. We are in this world and currently bound to it. But, we are not of this world and by understanding the incredible implications of that, we can begin to get a healthy perspective on the real problem we have with worry.

Lord, we are flesh and blood, with active minds and hearts. We try to carve out a life for ourselves and others we care about that reduces anxiety and breeds hope. This is always hard and, sometimes, near impossible. We are daily confronted by challenges both small and large that can disturb or even overwhelm us. Help us to see them in perspective and we ask for the guidance and tools to respond appropriately. And, thank you for reminding us who is really in charge. Amen.