A Letter to a Friend

Thank you very much for sharing and putting forth among our small body of believers some of your pain in watching a nation you love fall into bigotry and fear. I have no solutions to offer, there are none…only the realization that living in a nation such as ours…a nation with positive potential for good in the world…can lead us to the tempting but potentially idolatrous notion that nation-states can be good, when in-fact they cannot.

Followers of Jesus have been reaching for this sort of meaning in our nation-states for millennia, the idea that nations can do the work that that His People are called to do. Rabbi Saul/Paul makes it clear in his letter to the His People in Rome that nations are institutions empowered to restrain (individual) evil upon the pain of death (nationalized evil). When Constantine picked up his Sword back in the 4th century he set the pattern for the Institutional Church and it’s deference and willingness to be represented and empowered by nation-states…what we see now is a cyclical repeat of that “taking up of arms”. Constantine had a vision of the cross Jesus died upon, turned it into a sword and claimed it as a method of conquering the world (as he knew it). Our culture is simply a modern-day manifestation of this.

James Carroll, a defrocked Catholic Priest (I really like defrocked Catholic Priests!) had a lot to say about this in a book he named Constantine’s Sword; very interesting and informative. (For you dear sisters and brothers in Christ who are from the Catholic Tradition please be reminded that though in practice Catholicism is quite uncomfortable for me, I have deep respect for many Catholic Traditions and viewpoints…actually much of what I know I learned from a dear friend/professor, a Franciscan Priest from Croatia who’s deeply involved in the peace movement.) This most recent “travel ban” is an expression of Christian Primacy, in other words, it’s a dominance expression of our national religion (something that looks like Christianity and claims to be Christianity) over another religion it finds threatening (Islam).

We’ve adapted ourselves to this hateful and negative faith, but it bears no resemblance to the faith Jesus called us to live and love and teach. I’ll leave it to all of the prophetic sorts to determine whether this church is really the antichrist, or whether it’s actually the next leader of Russia or maybe a liberal Senator.

This syncretic form of Christianity has adapted itself to it’s political masters, right now they call themselves “conservative” but they could call themselves pretty much anything; political ideology is a meaningless construct in Jesus’ context…the party of “Love Your Neighbor” maybe?

For my own mental and emotional health I’ve deleted my Facebook account, I never could express myself very well there as most of my thoughts exceed the attention-span of the Facebook crowd…let alone Twitter’s 144 characters…  I’ve spent more time reading and writing and thankfully, for what I do, very few people feel any sort of need to talk about politics…my mom sometimes tries to but I rebuff it in order to not upset her. I’ve found comfort in historical works, in fact one good one I’ve been slowly working through has to do with “Why Liberals Always Win the Culture Wars…” or something like that…and it’s gone through all of the different “culture wars” that people of national faith have fought in America…and it’s quite interesting and assuring.

Sensibility has been ruptured, and I think that there is some “danger” in speaking out against the current political regime, Jesus found that to be true…and it was the religious people that did him in…the secular folks didn’t really care so much. I don’t think that we have to be terribly fearful, just cautious in our own communities. I know that an aspect of my current joblessness has to do with political stances I took in my work…not my political opinions but my actual policy execution decisions that were a part of my role as a supervisor of social service provision, I did/could not agree with certain types of attitudes and focuses toward “those people” (those with mental illnesses and disabilities). Now I’ve actually got a minor gig with the state and the UofM/rtc training some of those “subversive” ideas/ideals about disability empowerment.

I’m finding a quiet place, reading my (audio) books while building things out of wood with my hands. I’m slowly trying to improve my health and loving and enjoying the time I have left with my wife and daughter. I think often of the friends we made in Ethiopia…believers in Jesus that lived under strong governmental oppression, a dictatorship, and thrived despite the terrible things that their government was capable of. I also comfort myself with the assurance that our nation has gone through some terrible oppressions in the past, that now I can adopt a child of color and that I still have hope for one little immigrant from a tumultuous place who has a forever family and plenty of cuddles and an opportunity for a good education.

There are indeed a lot of disturbing things going on, and I assume it will continue and get worse…but we do have an essential balance of power in this nation…despite the efforts of many to thwart it. I have hope, but I have to look carefully for it…and look away from some sources of anti-hope at the same time. Bonhoeffer’s works from prison would be a good read now, as would Martin Luther King Jr.’s. I have bios of Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin if you’d like to borrow them, incredible encouragement. Reading anything by George MacDonald is good for the soul…even his untranslated Scots stuff…

Movement

In social work we write a lot. We are bureaucrats after all, filling out forms and connecting people with resources and services. This is important work because there are a lot of people in our world that need a lot of help. Dorothy Day, Jane Addams & Peter Maurin are my models...women and men who spent their lives reaching out to those in need...Jean Vanier, Henri Nouwen and many others who quietly care for the needs of the needy.

But because we write a lot our fingers move more than the rest of us...and one of the things that needs to happen for me to be healthy is to have more movement, more reaching and standing and turning and bending and walking and swaying. Wood requires this of me. It needs me to sand and scrape and gnaw and abrade away the parts I don't need...especially hand-powered woodworking.

Besides all of my around-the-house projects (refinishing chairs, making picture frames, framing out a shop and bathroom and redoing a set of stairs) the major focus of my movement will be making a small sailing and rowing dory. I need this sort of project, most of what I've built during my social work career is filed away and/or digitized and shredded...after all, I created paper. There are the lives of the people I helped...the touching I did along the way...which is the most beautiful part of my vocational legacy - no presidential library is as valued nor as important to me as this work. And there is my family. My wife and daughter (and dog) are loci of much love, affection and investment...but sometimes a man needs to know he can make something with his hands and some tools.

I don't know what facing a terminal illness in your eighties elicits thought-wise, it seems to me that simply being in your eighties is a terminal illness as most people that make it to their eighties don't make it out. But I do know what facing a terminal illness in middle-age feels like. Most people make it out of their fifties, I might not. I don't feel like I'm done, and for that I'm the most frustrated (and sometimes angry). I'm not done raising my daughter, loving my wife and I'm not done working and reading and living...but I am also a person of faith who believes that there is restorative reward that awaits...a recreated earth and life. Past that I'm void of detail...I simply have hope and believe.

My little dory will demand movement of me. It will require that I walk and sway and stretch and reach to make it and use it, it will be something that will carry my family about in a state of 11,000 bodies of water...a way to slowly explore what this creation and our Creator has to share with us. It will also require something different of me than my vocation has, than my activism has.

Touch

My wife is not a reader, but that's okay because somebody needs to balance me out. One book she did enjoy reading early on in our marriage was The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman.  She figured out from her reading of that book that my "Love Language" is touch. I'm good with that, I think she's right. I love to touch and cuddle and be close.

Woodworking is perfect for this. Right now I'm refinishing a cool old Art Deco chair for Laurie (my wife) that has a beautiful birds eye maple back piece (the remainder is I think poplar). As I bring the figure back to life from under a dark covering finish - a criminal act - I'm reminded of all of the forces in the environment of the tree that first brought these swirls and tiny knots to life, and I'm reminded of the loving Creator that places beauty in every cell of His canvas.

Touch connects me with what lived many years ago and left behind a useful and beautiful structure that I can use to both ornament my life and support my back while sitting; but it's dependent upon how I treat it today for both it's beauty and utility. Our institutions are this.

As a culture in the 1930's after suffering a grave economic crisis brought on by our own greed we saw that we could ameliorate the suffering of some by setting up an institution that brought aid to the elderly and ultimately the infirm as well. The idea was that each citizen would pay a little bit of their income into a fund that would be carefully managed and nurtured for later access in elder years. It was a way to societally support older Americans; we later added to that support for the disabled. We had worked together to create a beautiful piece of wood, full of figure and depth...and we of-course painted over it with greed and obfuscation.

Greed in the form of avarice. A fund paid into by so many people grows to great size, and there are those in society that always feel that their "piece of the pie" needs to be bigger...and that wealth laying about anywhere is a fine target. That wealth gets repurposed, it gets directed toward projects it was never meant to fund...worthy project like roads and bridges...and unworthy projects like weapons and wars.

Obfuscation is even worse...wealth is hidden, redirected and subverted...stolen by any rational definition of the term but stolen in legal ways by men and women who deceive themselves that they deserve such largesse as the natural reward for their "sacrificial service". I worked for a poor county in the fine state of Minnesota...as a supervisor I was allowed $200 per night for overnight accommodations in the Twin Cities...as a private businessman I'm able to find a fully adequate place to stay for well under $100 per night.

Sanding through to the fine grain of that birds eye maple chair back reminds me that as a people we need to care about what we've built, and not hate it for what we perceive it takes from us. We've given the keys of our nation to a "deplorable" group of people because we've lost connection with our historical values...we've lost connection with what matters to us as a people.

The Feel of History

As I write this post my hands are tired and dry from sanding and there are only two minutes left in the day. My daughter lies sleeping in her room about 20' away and my night owl wife is in the basement organizing her home decorations...for her this is bliss.

I'm poring over a pdf scan of John Gardner's Dory Book, thinking about the history of my next-planned project and more than a bit anxious about how to build a basement workshop around something so large and whether I'll be able to bring it up the stairway when complete. How do I figure that out?

It's the beginning of 2017 and just a week and a day past the inauguration of a president with no connections to the past, who we are as a people, our traditions and our values. For some reason enough of my fellow countrymen have aquiessed to such a leader, I have not. I've deleted my Facebook account and I'm trying to limit my exposure to the news because it's injurious to my mental and emotional health...my physical health is already marginal and the other aspects of me need to remain intact.

At a time during which so much that we've built as a people is being torn down by a self-seeking bullshit artist I find it important to be able to create...and be rooted in history. I have few family roots. I'm an only child of an only child father and mother with one passed away sister...my cousins are distant physically and my family-in-law is quite toxic. My wife and daughter are my delights, they form the core of my joy...but my brethren in faith have abandoned the object of our faith for political power. I no longer have a church family because the people who constitute church where I live believe that our current president is "God's Man".

I obviously don't.

My hands need to touch history, my dry and tired hands need to reach out to the analog, find a way back in time and in doing so move forward through a very dark time for our nation. I am not fully sure as to how this will help me, but I know that I need to build a small, historical boat. I think that this has to do with my own love of exploration, my own interest in creating and my love of learning and history.