Now What?

Nevermind the betrayal,

Nevermind the denial,

He is gone,

Gone, gone.

All those years,

All those hungry and thirsty days,

All those sleepless nights,

Forgotten boats, empty ledgers,

So much dust.

Signs and miracles and voices,

People and bread and fish,

Singing people, branches waiving,

Singing whips, crown of thorns.

Beaten, bloodied, broken, defiled,

Hung on a tree, ridiculed, insulted, degraded,

Or, so I am told.

Now eleven, so much with Him,

Nothing without Him,

He is gone,

Now what?

2015
03/16
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How Many Hours in a Biblical Day?

In my internet surfing, I recently came upon a webpage that contains three lists: (1) What Does the Catholic Church Teach About Origins; (2) What Does Molecules-to-Man Evolutionism Teach about Origins; and (3) What Does Cutting-Edge Science Teach About Origins?

Frankly, as a cradle-Catholic, I grew up blissfully unaware of the first list. As I progressed thru the American educational system and then graduated to throwing away so much of what I was exposed to, I remained much more concerned about other things. You know, like, ISIS, Roe v Wade, CRS. But, in the area of Church doctrine, I don’t spend much time with the finite timetable in Genesis. I hope this doesn’t make me a heretic; but I am much more in awe of the concept that GOD created everything, my little brain ain’t ready to put a clock on it.

So, does this mean that the commonly espoused version of “evolution” (thinking of Darwin here) means that GOD did not create the world? Nope. For me, GOD is capable of doing anything He wants to (no doubt, He is relieved that I think so). Even (shudder) capable to creating a system that incorporates (gasp) evolution. Really not all that different than your car: you put gas in it more than once (renewing resources), you change the oil more than once (out with the old, in with the new), and if you live east of the Rocky Mountains, you patch the rust in it. Or, you trade it in for something newer (now that concept should make us all shudder; unless, of course, your name is Noah). For me, evolution IS consistent with an omnipotent Divine Being – there is nothing in my understanding of evolution or the Big Bang that keeps me from picking up my Bible (quick: who initially floated – sorry – that concept? If you said a “Belgian Jesuit” you get a gold star).

I did especially enjoy the eighth item which says that the “literal obvious sense must be believed unless reason dictates or necessity requires.” First, of course is the word “believed.” As in, “I believe in GOD, Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit”? I don’t think so. Yeah, disagree with Pope Leo at your peril. Second, a person’s reason trumps the Bible? Well, St Peter had something to say about that. Oh, wait, Leo meant the Church’s interpretation, not mine? Ok, fine. But, does the Church really equate the Trinity with a boat big enough for two of everything (considering what science tells us about species we have identified as living or extinct, it’s hard to believe that Adam named every creature and Noah got ‘em all on something measured in “cubits”). (And the number of critters in Noah’s barque isn’t only two of each, if you’ll read a little bit further in Genesis.) You see where I’m going with this, don’t you? “Everything” is “literal and obvious”? I’ll stand with St Lawrence who presented the poorest of the poor when Valerian demanded the riches of the Church. And no, I have never figured out how many angels can sit on the head of a pin (how about how many Christians ISIS has butchered?).

“Original Sin”? Can you say “ISIS”? What part of the human condition don’t you get? Intuitively obvious to the most casual observer (which includes me, for a change).

No, I am not a cafeteria Catholic; but neither can I get everything w/n the definition of Catholic on my plate. I want to; but some days I just don’t think I’m really living the First Commandment.

I spend more time shaking my head at the church that decorated the sanctuary with streamers and other icons of a local football team, than I do with exactly how many hours were in the Biblical day. I just looked again. And I still can’t believe it. You can go to the webpage and see for yourself: http://voxcantor.blogspot.com/2015/02/behold-tabernacle-of-seattle-seahawks-12.html I will grant you that the church I belong to does not have the Tabernacle front-and-center, where it belongs. And there have been occasions when the decoration committee must have been exercising un-used budget and certainly un-used taste. But I have never seen an abomination like this (unless it was in the “non-denominational church” my sister attends: it has a drum set on stage – not even a cross). I am torn (so to speak) between the comment that anybody with backbone would have ripped down the decorations, and my own (feeble?) about-face, walk out, and never return.

Then there’s the story about so-called “gay jesuits.” Yeah, yeah, I know: “jesuits” really ought to be capitalized because it is a proper name. I fell in love with history at a very early age, so I ran into the stories of the Jesuit Missionaries who went to Canada; one Jean de Brebeuf stands out. The chasm that exists between him and “gay jesuits” is insurmountable to me. Altho not quite as old as Jean (he died in 1649), I am still old-fashioned enough to think of priests as being asexual. Yes, I grew up going to Mass every Sunday and every holy day. I became an altar boy when only boys served and only those who could master Latin served. I was very active in the Church all thru high school. Simply, “priest” and “sex” do not belong in the same sentence. I found out that there could be variations on the theme when it came to women religious and what they wore. But priests all wore the same outfit and all behaved above reproach. In the Marines, I learned what “conduct unbecoming” meant; that phrase applied to every priest I have ever known. Praise GOD that I don’t know any “gay jesuits.”

Yeah, Fr Longenecker, the rock still stands.

PS: I received an email yesterday from my good friend, Fr Patrick, in Cameroon. Cameroon, you know: next door to Nigeria, way too close to Boko Haram. And I am supposed to care about what again?

http://kolbecenter.org/creation-doctrine-2/
voxcantor.blogspot.com
ChurchMilitant.tv
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/standingonmyhead/

2015
03/09
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Tangible Object

I know I feel better. Until today, I actually believed that Supreme Court rulings could reasonably be understood by the typical citizen; you know, like me. Sure, there have been a ba-zillion cases decided by SCOTUS that I have no knowledge of; but I had always thought that, if I really tried, I could understand at least the high points, even if the minutiae remained well outside my grasp.

Not anymore. I just read that when Justice Samuel Alito “hears the term ‘tangible object,’ a fish does not spring to mind – nor does an antelope, a colonial farmhouse, a hydrofoil, or an oil derrick.”

Silly me. Those are EXACTLY what comes to my mind when I think of “tangible object.” From before my memory (yes, long before breakfast), I learned that something I could touch is tangible. And much later: something I couldn’t touch was intangible. I guess I should go confront my mommy about the misinformation? I’m having a hard time trying to understand that something I can hold in my hand (like a fish), or run into (like a farmhouse) is not tangible.

Maybe I should cancel my car and house insurance? I can hear my insurance company refusing a claim against a dent in my car or a fire in my house on the grounds that those objects are not tangible.

Now, if SCOTUS wants to define objects as tangible so that “the disposal of records, documents, and other items that preserve information” doesn’t cause a repeat of the Enron fiasco (sorry, “accounting fraud”), who am I to argue? In this age of electronic records, I get only as close as my keyboard and mouse – two objects that I can think of in no other way than, well, tangible. The stuff inside the computer is still pretty tangible. The stuff inside the stuff is undeniably intangible. And internet and cloud? That stuff is well beyond my ken (and fingers).

But, how they can make the leap from zeros and ones that eventually spell “crook” to some guy disposing of illegal fish is, I find, unreasonable. I mean, beyond reason. Yeah, I think that’s what unreasonable means; or at least, it did yesterday.

On the other hand, did Justice Kagan really cite Dr. Seuss? I guess I shouldn’t have any problem with a SCOTUS justice referring to a book written under the pseudonym of someone who wrote “Horton Hears a Who!” But, I do. (On the other hand, having served in the military, I know from personal experience that green eggs are real, and quite tangible).

As to the effect of this ruling on Obamacare (the point of the story in Bloomberg), I agree that the guy in the White House really intended on screwing everybody, not just a select few.

Oh wait: this is the same “group” that redefined “person” and “marriage” isn’t it?  I put “group” in quotes because I’m not sure what SCOTUS is.  Sure, they wear really retro robes (how’s that for alliteration?), but I’m thinking they are more like a cult, like Jim Jones and the Peoples Temple.  I wonder if SCOTUS serves Kool-Aid at lunch?  I think the ol’ 40-watt appliance lightbulb is starting to glow….

Paul Barrett. “Obamacare’s Survival Comes Down to … Fish?” Bloomberg. 2015 February 27. http://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2015-02-27/obamacare-s-survival-comes-down-to-fish-

2015
03/04
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What Martyrdom Looks Like

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2015
02/25
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Stray cats and dogs

Lots of people collect ‘em. I don’t. I collect books. But, like mongrels, the books on my shelves are not collectors’ items or first editions. There are some interesting titles (I think); but few people would give my books a second glance. In fact, few people have, tho most of my 1,000 volumes on are shelves in the living room. Opposite the front door. You can’t miss ‘em.

My point is this: you can tell who loves cats and dogs, either by the smell, or the bark, or the hair (or, is it fur? I can never remember). As my little brother might say, “Love my dog, love me” (or, do I have that backwards?). He might say it, but I won’t. I used to be ok with pets – just, “ok” – really ambivalent; didn’t much care one way or the other. Until I bought a house next door to a woman who owns about a dozen football dogs (little yappy things, the kind of dog I’d dearly love to kick), boards and grooms others (some, real dogs). When I worked nights, the little darlings often played in her backyard (while she stayed inside) and kept me company. Yet another reason why discharging firearms in the city is not permitted.

So, there’s Levi, inviting Jesus over to his house for dinner. I can imagine him then thinking something along the lines of, “Oops! I hope He’s not offended by the mess. When was the last time the wife cleaned? Maybe He’ll come tomorrow?” I’m thinking, “No such luck.” Jesus probably said, “What are we waiting for?” What would Jesus have noticed upon walking in the front door of Levi’s house? What would be His first impression upon entering yours?

In reading that passage of Levi’s invitation, I had the thot: “What if Jesus was at my door, right now?” I’d hear the knocking (I disabled the doorbell when I worked nights), I’d go open the door, I’d recognize Him immediately, and I’d blurt out, “Jesus Christ.” Maybe He’d smile (‘cause He knew that was coming), Maybe He’d make some quip like, “I certainly hope so.” I mean, Jesus has a sense of humor, right? I know His Father does, so “like father, like son,” right?

Anyway, He couldn’t help but notice the wall of books. He might think, “This guys sure loves books,” or maybe a more cynical, “I wonder if he’s read even half these things?” ‘Course, He already knows, so I guess this would be a rhetorical question? Is that a rhetorical question?

A better question is: “Are you living your life so that (a), if (GOD forbid, eh?) Jesus came over for dinner tonight (think of Sidney Poitier, if that helps) you could – in any way – be the least little bit comfortable; or (b) you’d actually like what you might find in Heaven?” Think about the latter possibility: what, exactly would you do if the streets of Heaven were, indeed, paved with gold? Not working? How about singing “Hallelujah” for all eternity (I was gonna say “all day, every day,” but of course, time has no meaning in Heaven). Maybe trying to make a joyful noise on Sunday mornings would be a good warm-up?

I see a lot of debate about whether or not there is a Hell, or if it’s populated. Logically, it makes perfect sense that there is nobody in Hell: of course GOD would make something that is absolutely worthless. And, since I am trying to prepare for that other eventuality (I accept that I haven’t filed my taxes yet), I’m very curious about what I read in the Owner’s Manual (as a very important man once described it to me – he was also a Disciple of Christ minister). I’m not finding much hope at all for the idea that there is no Hell, that Jesus won’t judge after all (maybe just wink-wink and a nod of the head?), and maybe being a goat is not just being the butt of some joke (or, maybe it is?). How else to read Matthew 25:41-46?

So, not much comfort in the concept that Jesus is my “Get out Jail Free Card.” No, I’m not thinking I can do much to guarantee that I’ll like what’s behind Door Number Two, when I’m standing there (naked, and alone) in front of the Pearly Gates. But, at least – at the very least – I will be able to say that I tried.

While I do believe the Bible is inspired (the Holy Spirit guiding the hand of man which held the pen), I don’t believe it is all, word-for-word, literally true (for starters, none of the original Bible has survived to this day, and none of what has survived was written in English). Some parts I do take at face value. like not trying to interpret the Bible by myself (2 Peter 1:20). Look to Burridge if you’re trying to get your hands around the genre of the Gospels – I’m only half-way thru his What Are the Gospels, and the thing I am really sure of is that I’m not really sure of much. But, I do believe that the entire Bible is about Jesus Christ; and the one thing that keeps coming back, over and over, is the idea that He is setting Himself up (forward?) as an example. He wants us to follow His example, His lead. Very much a “Do as I say, and do as I do,” kind of thing.

And that makes my trials and tribulations inescapable. I have no personal knowledge of scourging or crucifixion; but, like standing in front of a Mac truck on the interstate, I really (no, really) don’t think I need to. Granted, I might be missing part of the, um (forgive me) full impact; but I’ll take that chance. Nevertheless, the end of Jesus’ life here on earth was not all skittles and beer. And, I don’t believe He intends for us to have a free-ride, either. Pretty much a case of: “This is what I did for you, what are you doing for Me?”

Full disclosure: that last sentence, that question I originally wrote as “This is what I did for you, what are you going to do for Me?” A quick re-read and I discovered that it shouldn’t be future tense, it should be here and now: today. The Season of Lent is a great time, one could say the perfect time for an assessment of what you value and what you are doing (actually doing, not just planning on doing) to realize those goals. It seems that everyone I know is busy. Busy, busy, busy. Really, the only question is: “Busy doing what?” Anything important? Anything that will make a difference in your life; or just stuff to try to hang on to whatever your life is like at the moment?

Do you look out a window and try to find ways to help others, or do you look in a mirror and try to find ways to help yourself? What was the last book you opened? Got any books at all around the house? Any magazines besides Readers’ Digest? Read anything besides a menu? Anything at all? Or, just marking time? Just putting one foot in front of the other? Look around the house, exactly what do you think is getting you ready for your future? What you do today profoundly affects today, and very nearly makes tomorrow guaranteed. Yeah, the bell tolls for all of us. And, eternity is a long time.

2015
02/24
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Scylla and Charybdis

No, I can’t actually pronounce those two words either; even though I was introduced to them in early high school (thank you, Mr Oesch). But, unlike a lot of words that I have a comfortable relationship with, understand what they mean (or rather, what the expression means), and can use them in a sentence, I just can’t say ‘em.

What brought them to mind this morning was the growing controversy about the allowance of some sort of alternative group to participate in the New York City St. Patrick’s Day Parade, but not to allow a comparable group of a differing political point of view to participate. While this topic is very rich in targets (unconscionably so), I want (at present) to concentrate on only one (maybe, if I run out of grist for this particular mill, I’ll cast my net wider).

Now, I do not consider myself Irish, nor do I hold any particular attachment to the Irish. I have absolutely nothing against the Irish (or the British, who have treated the Irish no better than white Americans have treated black Americans, or, any other non-white Americans, for that matter). And, growing up, I always thought the St Patrick’s Day festivities were nothing to be taken seriously, if not something of a joke. After all, my family, with no attachment to the Finns, celebrated St Urho’s Day (obviously, the day before St Patrick’s Day) fairly religiously (ok, so my Dad was the only one I knew who sent out St Urho’s Day cards with the zeal of anyone sending out the annual Christmas Letter).

But to pour dye into the Chicago River (really?), or stage a parade in New York City? Do grownups do that sort of thing? Well, now that I are one, I guess I can no longer suspend disbelief. Yes Virginia, adults actually do stuff like that; though no one quite understands the reasoning.

Nevertheless, in this day-and-age, to hold some sort of celebration, ostensibly in the name of honoring a Roman Catholic Saint boggles the mind (just in case you didn’t know, some Roman Catholics – especially those who drink green beer, ‘cause there’s really no difference between crankcase oil and Guinness – do believe there really, actually, honestly, and no-foolin’ was a dude who chased all the grasshoppers out of Finland, no, wait, was that snakes?). It would seem to me that the last thing any self-respecting tree-hugging, bed-wetting, baby-killing, any-lifestyle-other-than-one-thousands-of-years-old liberal would want, would be to pay any attention to, let alone set aside a special day on the calendar, to eat-drink-and-be-merry for a person revered by the embodiment and personification of (gasp) a 2,000 year old established (shudder) religion.

Huh? Have these people not read their own manifesto? Well, as we know from unbelievably diverse experience, the very foundation, the very bedrock of liberalism is to discard (bash?) anything older, and other, than itself. Most especially the concept that “the establishment” – that is, the existing establishment, not the one they are trying to, um, establish – is inherently bad and must be done away with. At any cost. At least, in the 60s, when I first ran into this anti-establishment way of thinking, the method was violence; which was, at the very least, honest. Tommie Smith had the brass cajones to stand up and be counted; you’d be hard pressed to find that kind of integrity today.

Be that as it may, what I really want to know is: can a Roman Catholic Cardinal be impeached? Yes, in the case of Dolan, he is an ordained priest; but as everyone (anyone?) knows, cardinals are appointed. A stroke of the papal pen gives them a new title; I presume a similar pen can revert them to a toad or lizard (apologies to our reptilian friends; which, according to Julia Roberts are more worthy of this earth than us warm-blooded human beings). But, a political toad Dolan surely is.

We no longer have a government-recognized “Christmas Holiday,” or “Easter Holiday” (though the time away from our jobs is still there); why do we still have a government-recognized parade of (to all intents and purposes) a Roman Catholic Saint? You need an excuse to be an idiot? Fine. But be honest enough not to invoke the Church as your excuse. I mean, how do you live with yourself? I’d think you be torn in at least two pieces by the dichotomy.

So, there’s this parade in NYC and a fringe-group is going to march. Why? To honor a saint? Already I am laughing. An exceptionally holy man of a church? Horrors. Et cetera (you know where I’m going). I can hear them now: “I’m going to … to honor … to pay respect to …” – oh! I just can’t go on. This keyboard can stand only so much irony.

But why does Dolan associate himself in any way with the parade? I am quite sure the cranks and the crazies can’t help themselves; but, I would think that either Dolan or his boss would have the good sense to detach from something that has been hijacked. Instead of doing the thing that does make sense, that is consistent with Church teaching, Dolan continues to beam his corpulent face upon the front page, claiming to be a Roman Catholic Cardinal. Excuse me while I throw up (retch, barf, puke, etc.).

Fine, Chicago, pour green dye in your river. Fine, NYC, stage a march. Fine, New Orleans, host a party (Mardi Gras) that is the very antithesis of the season (that would be Lent). But, don’t – puh-lease don’t – think that, for even one little second, that you have my blessing, endorsement, or (dare I say?) embrace.

Why “Scylla and Charybdis”? It is because of events such as those in NYC and the Middle East (thank you Graeme Wood), that I am refining who I am: what is important to me. The so-called alternative life-styles that are all the rage in the US now are different for the immediate gratification of being temporarily different (if everyone is being “alternative,” I have to wonder what they are alternative to). Which means there is no “between a rock and a hard place” for me. I grew up not caring about the celebrations hosted in some cities on March 17, and if possible, I care less now.

I guess maybe I should thank Dolan and his political posturing then? And, if I didn’t find him such an embarrassment, I might. But I think I’m going to pass.

Some singer made famous the line, “I would rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.” Fine. You go ahead and live for today. For me, today is fleeting; but, eternity is a long time.

Ref:

Wood, Graeme, “What ISIS Really Wants,” The Atlantic, 2015 March, http://www.theatlantic.com/features/archive/2015/02/what-isis-really-wants

2015
02/23
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What’s the point?

People watching is, in a word, fascinating. And, easy to do: anytime, day or night; at no cost, to boot. All you invest is your time, and no sweat is involved. In fact, you can eat while you do it, so it is the perfect occupation for Americans. It’s a wonder that more people don’t do it. Well, in a way, most Americans do it; trouble is, they don’t learn anything from it. It’s pure, unadulterated, mindless entertainment. It’s the national pastime. Is this a great country, or what? But, I digress.

What I’d like to know is why people do what they do. Yeah, I’m a people watcher, and the reason why I am is because they are everywhere. Damn hard to avoid. Especially, living in a city, having to have a “9-to-5” (i.e., traditional) job, and trying not to be distracted by the trees and not see the forest during Mass.

So, last night (when I can, I go to Mass both Saturday and Sunday – I need a lot of help), I plant myself in the pew about half-an-hour before Mass to try to get my head into the most important thing I do all week. And, as usual, the “Edmonds Group” was in full voice. (I have mentioned them before in these pages). It is, quite literally, a group of about 5 or 6 “little old ladies” that see the church building as a bus station. Being women, they do like to talk (tho, I’m beginning to wonder if men don’t rival them for idiotic prattle). And, being older, their hearing is not particularly acute. Altho, their voices haven’t lost any volume. Hmm.

Now, if their football stadium voce (sorry, I couldn’t find an antonym for sotto voce) was discussing religion, at least it would be relevant to the situation; that is, something to do with why they were there.

Sorry. I guess I mean to say: something to do with why < I > was there. They are obviously not there for any reason other than to gab about things they won’t remember tomorrow. In fact, one of their number proudly (or, at least loudly) announced that she hadn’t been in church since Thanksgiving (some kind of injury, I think); her compatriots hadn’t noticed her absence, apparently.

Thank GOD, the opening procession and hymn quieted them down.

Of course, by this time, two young men sat in front of me. Two young men that I had seen before. Two young men that clearly want to be someplace else (but, at least they don’t chatter). They enter the pew with nary a nod, let alone genuflection, or (ugh) perfunctory bow and sit. They mostly stand and kneel and sit with the congregation. Mostly sit. They go to Communion. and they leave early (typically walk straight out the door after receiving).

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know: I should be paying attention to Mass and not to GOD’s children and their “interesting” behavior. I could (feebly) offer that, if I am going to ignore everybody else, I should stay home and pray in my garret. But, I am trying to be part of the community. Clearly, I have a long way to go.

But, if you’re still with me, then I’ll try to get back to my point:

If people are going to make a minimal effort to do something that clearly has no meaning for them, why bother? I mean, if it means so little, then how much value can it have? And, if it has so little value, why do it? As my mother and I say to each other: at least they’re in church.

But, why?

Well, they can honestly say they go to church, if some pollster ever asks. Instead of being like those baptized pagans who claim to be Christian and don’t bother going to church. I can see claiming to be an American, even if you never vote or participate in the political process, ‘cause this is where you live (it seems the only legitimate definition of an American these days is somebody who pays taxes). But, why claim to be a Christian, if you don’t do any of the stuff that conscientious Christians do? More people can honestly claim to be shoppers.

Why do something that has no meaning? Maybe because being “average” takes so little effort? But, average is just another word for “mediocre”; does anybody really jump out of bed in the morning to just slog thru another day, doing as little as possible? Dunno about the jumping, but clearly doing the minimum, just to get by, is something of a national sport (especially now that, thankfully, football season is over – or, is this just the brief respite between seasons?)

“Average” is a judgment, or conclusion; it should not be a goal or objective.

I’ll grant you that they are doing all they can, and just showing up for Mass might be all they can do. Actually participating, actually trying to contribute, now that’s a horse of a different color (I know all I can do is make a joyful noise during the “hymns,” but I offer that the choir, which has practiced and has the music in front of them, can barely handle some of the stuff).

If trying to try has so little value, why bother? Certainly other people notice (present company included). Do you think GOD notices? Him, who sees everything, including what other people can’t see; including what we can’t see in ourselves.

To paraphrase a story told by a Desert Father, if I was deep in prayer, I wouldn’t even notice the behavior of those around me. And I concede the point. But, I do go to Mass to be with all those other sinners because, quite frankly, I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t a sinner. I fit in.

So, I ask why when I observe others because I want to know why for myself.

Do I do what I do out of habit? Or to be seen by others? Well, after years of wandering around in the wilderness, going to Mass is definitely not a habit. Every week, it is deliberate, conscious decision. But, I admit, sometimes I do go to be seen by others. In all my arrogance, I think looking like I want to be there is a good example for others: “Hey! keeping your mouth shut for an hour is not gonna kill you!” Mostly tho, I go because I am supposed to. I am a Roman Catholic, and the Church requires my attendance; when I want to be something, I follow the rules. By not following the rules, I am stating I don’t want to be something. Period. For me, no gray area there; no room for lukewarmness in practicing my religion.

And, with Lent coming up (this Wednesday is the day when, as the priest this morning put it, we get something from the Church for free: ashes), I have an official opportunity (according to the Church, the word is “obligation” – I look upon those obligations as opportunities, and I need lots of ‘em). What will I give up for Lent this year? Chocolate? Well, I kicked that habit years ago, so that doesn’t count. Last year, I fasted: nothing to eat or drink (save water) between sunrise and sunset; yeah kinda like Ramadan, but without the bacchanalial of Mardi Gras or the Ramadan Rush at the beginning and Eid al-fitr at the end. Sackcloth and ashes are always inappropriate, so that’s out (Matthew 6:17-18).

More Bible study? Maybe. Certainly will have more time: I have just been laid off.

Well, whatever I do, I should go to Church more (Lent is a good time to do penance) and pray more (I won’t try singing more: I might get arrested for disturbing the peace).

Maybe this would be a good time to ask why, as in “Why do anything at all?” Let’s see: I believe in GOD, I believe in a life after this one, I believe the purpose of this life is to prepare for the next one, and I know I’m not ready for the next life. I know I need lots of preparation. I also know (wait for it): Eternity is a long time.

2015
02/15
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Unbroken

It’s been 73 years since the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, and it’s clear that the world still doesn’t understand the Japanese.

As a marine (no longer on active duty), and as a civilian, I have spent considerable time living in Japan (Tokyo) and working with the Japanese and other Asian cultures (Korean, Chinese, Okinawan, Filipino). In the course of my travels, I have done a fair amount of study, too. On the subject of the behavior of the Japanese military during World War II (actually going back to the Russo-Japanese War which started in 1904), the documentation is extensive, extremely descriptive, damning and undeniable.

Of course the Japanese Army treatment of Korean “comfort women,” and the infamous “rape” of Nanking leap to mind. That is, the treatment of civilians.

Having had several members of my family (mother, father, uncles on both sides) serve in World War II, and a familiarity with Hitler’s conduct thru books and documentary videos, it is surprising that statistics show that approximately 40% of American POWs died at the hands of the Japanese, but only about 1% died at the hands of the Germans. I just can’t wrap my head around the German brutality of the (“non-German”) civilian population, but the relatively humane treatment of enemy military personnel; and the Japanese brutality of everyone not Japanese. Apparently, the German warrior ethos included respect for fellow warriors; whereas the Japanese respected absolutely no one who is a “gaijin.” (Actually, being a Nihon-jin in Japan from about 1920 on was no picnic, either.)

Yes, the Japanese have erected several monuments in recognition of the war: Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum and the Okinawa Peace Memorial Park (Mabuni/Hill 89), for example (both of which I have visited).

But, while Japan hides in denial, others have admitted to horrors, and sought forgiveness and have moved out of their past (e.g., South Africa Truth Reconciliation Commission – TRC). In Hungary, the Budapest House of Terror has been converted into a museum to remember the victims and present factual information. The fine monuments/museums to the Holocaust need no further comment.

It is against the backdrop of George Santayana’s “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,” that I fear for the Japanese. I don’t think anyone would accuse the Millennial Generation in any country of being particularly interested in anything before the cell phone and internet. But, if the older generations don’t make the information available, how can we correct their myopia?

Frankly, learning that Louis forgave those that “guarded” him while incarcerated in the prisoner-of-war camps, especially “The Bird,” shocked me. Not so much that he did (unfortunately, I never had the opportunity to meet the man); but because my reaction to his treatment was exactly the opposite. I understand why he did, and I applaud him for it. I pray I am never put in a similar situation; but hope I can remember him if I am. (Might be the only way I’m going to get past the Pearly Gates.)

Thanks to Louis for the life-lesson he has taught so many. Thanks to Laura for writing his story. And, thanks to Angelina for telling such a beautiful story about such a beautiful life.

It’s been 73 years since the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, and it’s clear that the Japanese still don’t understand the world.

references:

http://blogs.wsj.com/japanrealtime/2014/12/26/japan-conservatives-protest-angelina-jolie-film/
http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/world/2014/12/23/japan-unbroken/20803301/

http://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2014/12/13/national/jolies-war-movie-unbroken-strikes-a-nerve-in-japan/#.VJ8pg8_HAQ
http://www.pcf.city.hiroshima.jp/index_e2.html
http://www.jahitchcock.com/mabuni.html
http://www.terrorhaza.hu/en/museum/first_page.html
Daniel Jonah Goldhagen, Hitler’s Willing Executioners
Iris Chang, The Rape of Nanking
Nien Cheng, Life and Death in Shanghai

2014
12/28
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Tests May Soon Predict Alzheimer’s. Do You Want to Know?

Hell yeah!

What really caught my eye was the statement by a bioethicist that people should not know. Because, as Craig Klugman says in the article, “”Living in fear will change how a person lives their life.” So, that means what, I should stop getting a colonoscopy every five years?

But Mr Klugman is implying that people believe they are going to live forever, so telling them they are not would reduce them to jellyfish. Hello? I’m sorry, sir, but the sooner people like you help people get the most out of their lives, while they can, the better for everybody. And, I won’t mention the possibility that our BFF, Uncle Sam, decides for us if we should be tested or not…

Bioethics, indeed.

So, I’m 60+ years old; not quite into the danger zone, but I can see it from here. My father had early onset Alzheimer’s, his brother pretty much died from it. I have first hand knowledge of what it looks like, and I would very much like to know.

Not that I’m sure how much difference it would make for me: regardless of what is finally going to get me – whether it is a drunk-driver on the interstate, or something that chips away for years – I should be exercising more and eating better now. I forget who, but I have always loved the statement: “If I had known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself.” (I’ve seen the quote attributed to both Mae West and Mickey Mantle.)

I think, if I knew I was going to slowly lose my mind (or, lose it instantly, but not for awhile), I would write more (thus this post) and probably record my voice reading some of the stuff my Dad read to us kids (James Whitcomb Riley being a favorite). Not to try to relive my Dad; but because my wife is pregnant with twins; I’d like them to be able to hear my voice. I’ve forgotten both my Dad’s and my older brother’s.

The article does point out that trying to reverse Alzheimer’s is probably not going to work; I think there are lots of ways of dying that are like that. Which means that prevention is key. Right now, we don’t know what causes Alzheimer’s, so we haven’t a clue how to prevent it. I’m all for testing now; yes, on me, too. Take some blood, establish a baseline, see what happens. Unfortunately, all we can do now is try to “test in the present to make a diagnosis on the future.” Let’s get on with it, I say.

Not buyin’ it, eh? How about the survivors? Ever think about them? The article shares a story of the family of a woman who was affected by Alzheimer’s before anyone realized it. The family suffered financially; although I think the emotional toll was much higher. I know I wish I had had more conversations with my Dad before he was no longer able to recognize who I was. If I could do something that might benefit my siblings (all younger than me), I’d sign on the dotted line.

I’ll go with Alireza Atri who says that people can “take charge, prioritize, and prepare for things earlier when lifestyle changes are more likely to produce a benefit.” Amen.

http://www.bloomberg.com/news/print/2014-12-11/tests-may-soon-predict-alzheimer-s-do-you-want-to-know-.html

2014
12/13
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Pick a club

My brother-in-law is a hog. A Harley Hog, that is. He’s got the bike. He’s got the look. And, living in DC, he participates in Rolling Thunder every year (would that I could). Point is, he wanted to join this particular club and he was willing to pay the price of admission, as well as the membership dues. Things like a motorcycle made by one, specific company. He did not go knocking on the door of the local chapter sitting astride, say, a Honda.

Any (and all) clubs, groups, associations have requirements for membership – that’s what makes them a club. They are founded and maintained on certain, (usually) well defined interests. Political parties in the United States used to be like this. When all members adhere to and support the group’s basic tenets, rules, philosophy, the group is cohesive and is strengthened. But, clubs can often lose their focus, especially when they try to find new members. Kinda like the Democrats enacting new laws to force everybody else to be more liberal. Unfortunately, with politics (in any country), you are subject to the whims of the ruling party, whether you’re a member of that party or not. Not so I imagine, with the Hogs: if you don’t ride (or, at least own?) a Harley, you’re not welcome. However, no one will force me on to any particular motorcycle, or on to any motorcycle at all, for that matter.

So, it just defies my understanding why anyone would want to be a member of any particular church if they weren’t willing to follow its rules (doctrine, dogma, teachings). If I want to believe objects have spirits, fine; but Christians don’t worship rivers or mountains, any more than you would join a rose society because of your prize petunias. Why an animist would even consider joining a Christian church is beyond me. To my knowledge, Christian churches don’t prevent anyone from communing with nature. Christians, by definition, worship Christ, and in 2000 years, haven’t seen the need to consult tea leaves or chicken bones. If you want to stick pins into a doll, ok; but Christians don’t. You do your thing, I’ll do mine, ok? So, why is it asking too much that you don’t make it the law of the land that I have to buy pins and dolls for you? This isn’t Germany.

I want to have hot dogs on the Fourth of July, not quiche on Bastille Day. I want to pledge allegiance to the red, white and blue of the United States, not the white, blue and red of Russia. I want to observe Christmas by attending midnight Mass celebrated by a celibate, male priest. I believe human life begins at conception and procured abortion is murder. Civil law has redefined marriage and inconvenient life – but Divine Law hasn’t (unless I missed the memo that GOD takes His marching orders from Capitol Hill). You want to stand in front of the Pearly Gates and justify yourself based on the decisions made by a committee of your peers (read: politicians), go right ahead. Frankly, I don’t want my Church to conform to your society. I like the fact that Christ was the ultimate revolutionary.

I will continue to render unto Caesar, but not because I feel it is my responsibility to pay for your lack of responsibility. I will continue to pay my taxes and buy health care for my family – and yours. It is mere coincidence that the guy in the White House agrees with the guy in the Bible on that one.

Put another way: I like being Roman Catholic. Which, despite its name, doesn’t mean it is a chameleon that finds new ways to constantly reinvent itself. The more it ignores the capricious and arbitrary fashions of the hour, the better. When I need shifting sands, I’ll go to the internet; when I need something built on rock, I’ll go to Mass. There are many who say the Church doesn’t fit the times. Not able to ordain women (let’s see: Jesus was male, His first thirteen apostles were male; what am I missing here?). Not embracing homosexual behavior (doesn’t exactly embrace serial killer behavior, either). Finding that human life is not a matter of convenience, or the calendar. Ok, I’ll hold the door open for you. I am quite sure you’ll find someone to embrace your inability to have a backbone, to have values, to believe that some things – like Truth – don’t change.

Yeah, it has warts; what collection of human beings doesn’t? Jesus was divine, he did the best He could with the material He had available. Fishermen and tax collectors. The fisherman, the one who I would have thought dependable, denied Jesus not once, but three times. At the Cross, Peter was nowhere to be found. And there was that part where Jesus was telling the religious police that tax collectors and prostitutes would get into Paradise before them; doesn’t say much about tax collectors, does it? Not sure who got slammed there. Can anyone forget the Renaissance Popes? NOBODY should. I, for one, would like to rip those years out of every history book. St Peter’s Basilica notwithstanding.

If you don’t like my club, you are free to leave. Roses have thorns; but at the end of the day, they are roses. No doubt Harleys have issues, but what machine doesn’t? If you prefer a rice rocket, have at it. But, I don’t ask you to sing kum-bay-yah, why must you demand that of me? (yeah, I find the fact that I did, at one time, really far out).

2014
12/06
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