Tag Archives: Arkansas

The Prophets W. B. Yeats and Shakespeare Offered us a Word

I had to leave the living room just now as news clips from the weekend of Trump droning-on in his voice dripping with fake sincerity and fake solemnity. I was sickened with the tape of the spectacle. I increasingly think the term “anti-Christ” applies to him though not in the traditional meaning of the term…maybe.

I no longer use the term “Christian” to describe my faith, though I do value the affirmation of one of my Arkansas friends, “I believe in the teachings of Jesus.” It is pretty easy and convenient to call one’s self “Christian” but it is challenging to let His wisdom cut into one’s heart, especially one’s “Christian heart,” and let it furrow into the depths of that “heart of darkness” that we all have. The Apostle Paul recognized this, avowing, “I will to do good, but evil is present with me.”

As Trump began his “slouching toward Bethlehem” about the same time I moved to Taos, New Mexico I became part of a coterie of friends who had found the maturity to let this darkness that all humans have get attention. We commonly refer to this as “the shadow” which is how Carl Jung put it. With these friends I have found the courage to see that “beast” within and not run from him/it any longer, realizing that as we subject him/it to the light of the day his/its power begins to diminish.

Shakespeare recognized this, telling us about a friend’s hypocrisy, “Thou has described a friend hot cooling. Ever note, Lucillus, when love begins to sicken and decay it useth an enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith; But hollow men, like horses hot at hand make gallant show and promise of their mettle.” That “plain and simple faith” is sorely needed at this moment in my life and certainly in my country. It is the only antidote to the to that “beast” within which is always “stalking” as the poet W. B. Yeats told us. “Enforced ceremony” aka “canned ” religion and life will never suffice.

My Life in a Mega-Church

I spent two years as a member of a mega-church in the early eighties, a Baptist Church in Springdale, Arkansas. I was so proud of myself, so pleased to be a member of a church that was so “up-and-coming” and growing larger and larger and larger. And the pastor was very good. And I mean very, very good; even today I appreciate memories of his skill as an expositor of scripture.

And I was single at the time and didn’t “smoke, drink, or chew…or screw”…though I will admit I faltered on that latter point from time to time. And, yes, God forgave me. I knew he would. He had to. But I hated relying on that “duty” of His and so didn’t “imbibe” as much as I wanted to. But, nevertheless, I did not “smoke, drink, or chew!!!” But, I continued to flirt with darkness in the fall of 1981 when, after hearing the pastor lament the passing of Arkansas’s “Blue Laws” I stopped by after service and reveled in a luxurious Wal-mart for a while and bought a lot of “stuff.”   (The “Blue Laws” disallowed most stores to open on Sunday) I do remember to this day the guilt of that offense, hoping that no other church members saw me!)

But it was so nice to be part of a church that was really special and powerful and becoming more so. The Word of God was being preached and souls were being won to Jesus and even though the world was lost in sin, we were doing our part to win the world to Jesus. And I was a small part of this enterprise. It felt nice to belong.  Now looking back on it, the “pride” is kind of awkward, for it is the pride that Emily Dickinson had in mind when she described, “a mind too near itself to see itself distinctly.”  Or, to put it in the words of a recent Face Book discussion group re Paul Tillich, a mind “embedded in itself.”

Looking back on it, I was merely an “actor” in my life and my faith and so I’m tacitly accusing this church of the same. But, I have some guilt over accusing them. For, they were very, very good people and are so today. And, so was I! And they will not be reading this account and if so they must take it as it is, a revelation more about myself much more than an account of them. Yes, those people were “limited” but who is not and there was none of them more limited than was I. Dealing with my “limitations” has taken me a different direction than most of them but I’m sure most of them are not in the same place as they were back then. We are all “actors” in some sense and God takes our “strutting and fretting” during our “hour upon the stage” and weaves them into this beautiful tapestry that we call the human experience.

Belonging and Human Connection

It was morning recess in the 2nd grade in Magnet Cove, Arkansas and the “BMOC” of our class of 32 announced to the boys, “Alright, everyone with high top boots come with me and let’s chase girls!” Oh I was so proud as I was sporting a brand new pair of high top boots and could join the chase in this customary recess activity in the fall of 1960. It was delightful to realize that I “met criteria” and belonged and I’ll never forget that moment, certainly revealing that “belonging” issues have always been present with me.

Making connection with fellow humankind and “belonging” is a basic human need and we are hardwired to do so, allowing us to form tribes that are the basic unit of human culture. And to establish “belongingness” various “criteria” are always announced, sometimes overtly by decree but more importantly in subtle manners as it is the “subtleties” that really constitute the bedrock of tribal unity. These “subtleties” are the premises which are not questioned, and for the sake of tribal coherence should not be. But the converse of this group dynamic is also present—someone must be excluded as otherwise the group identity would not have any meaning, its “identity” would be tenuous at best. This group dynamic is not “bad” it is just how we function, it is just being “human.” And the same process of identity formation takes place on the individual level, with certain things being accepted as part of our identity and others excluded and often projected “out there.”

But focusing now on group dynamics, the goal for a group is that it will be composed of individuals mature enough to recognize that in the passing of time some of its defining parameters can be relaxed and some persons who have been excluded can then be included. At least the focus of the group’s psychic energy will not be merely on boundaries that constitute its self-definition but on some purpose beyond itself which reflects respect of and value for the world at large. If the focus is merely on what sets a group apart, the group will eventually become a self-enclosed fortress whose only purpose is to perpetuate its mythology. When this happens, the group will find itself at odds with the world “out there” and will often be quite proud of this. This is often found in sectarian religion.

Wendell Berry & “The Peace of Wild Things”

One of my readers responded recently with a note about the value of his “dogs, garden, and wild life” in his spiritual life. His response really spoke to me and reminded me of my own affinity with the natural world and helped to ground me on that occasion, bringing me down from the lofty heights of the aether that I often get intoxicated with when I trot this “stuff” out. I have two dachshunds who just thrill my soul each day, a desert garden that I hope to see bloom again real soon, and birds, bunny rabbits, skunks, and coyotes that live in the neighborhood. This earth, and this “dust of the earth” of which each of us is a particle, is the only thing that is in a very real sense. And all this “stuff” that I discourse about…though important…is only about a context that gives meaning to all of this beautiful world.

Here is a link to Wendell Berry reading one of my favorite poems in which he recognizes the “Peace of Wild Things” and notes the comfort he finds there. And he speaks of the “wild heron” which adorned the lovely Beaver Lake on which I lived for 21 years in Northwest Arkansas before I moved here to New Mexico. And he noted how that these beautiful birds and other “wild things” do not “tax their thoughts with forethought of grief.” Berry was telling us of the importance of living in “The Now” which is the term that Eckhart Tolle coined to speak of the Presence which is the only thing that ever is. Our culture teaches us to live in the past and in the future and rewards us for doing so; thus it is a real challenge to ever-live in the present. I’m sure having trouble doing it!

https://vimeo.com/74755473

Don’t Throw that Baby…!

Beginning in adolescence, it is very typical for children to begin to rebel in the effort to achieve autonomy. This rebellion can come in simple forms like dying one’s hair purple, sneaking around and getting a tattoo, dating someone that parents disapprove of, and (of course) having sex. But, sometimes the need for autonomy is more fundamental and the adolescent tends to “throw the baby out with the bath water,” and reject everything his parents and community taught him. This rebellion also can serve a purpose but it is a more dangerous pathway as it can lead to severe behavioral and emotional problems as living “beyond the pale” of the cultural mandates one was offered can be very painful.

I was raised a conservative Christian in Arkansas, in the South of the United States. It was not until about the age 20 when I started my rebellion and it took me about 15 years to completely forego my fundamentalist Christian roots. But, fortunately I never threw “the baby out with the bathwater” and so, for example, never considered myself an atheist or even agnostic. And now I’m very glad as decades later I am discovering my Christian faith very meaningful and realize how that the roots of this faith are very instrumental in helping me find this meaning. Yes, I finally have the courage to interpret scripture and religious tradition for myself and can do so in a way in which they are “meaningful” to me. And, I have found…fortunately…that my approach to the matter is not isolated–many others approach the subject in a same fashion and I have even found me a community of faith in my community. This is important because there is danger when one interprets religion in such a fashion that he isolates himself, even if ensconced in a very isolating, sectarian, exclusivist group.  (This isolation reminds me of an old bromide, “He who lives by himself and for himself will be spoiled by the company he keeps!)

I’m going to share with you another blog from Richard Rohr which addresses this very issue of “throwing the baby out with the back wate”:

 

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All-or-nothing reformations and all-or-nothing revolutions are not true reformations or revolutions. Most history, however, has not known this until now. When a new insight is reached, we must not dismiss the previous era or previous century or previous church as totally wrong. It is never true! We cannot try to reform things in that way anymore.

 

This is also true in terms of the psyche. When we grow and we pass over into the second half of life; we do not need to throw out the traditions, laws, boundaries, and earlier practices. That is mere rebellion and is why so many revolutions and reformations backfired and kept people in the first half of life. It is false reform, failed revolution, and no-transformation. It is still dualistic thinking, which finally turns against its own group too.

 

So do not waste time hating mom and dad, hating the church, hating America, hating what has disappointed you. In fact, don’t hate anything. You become so upset with the dark side of things that you never discover how to put the dark and the light together, which is the heart of wisdom and love, and the trademark of a second half of life person.

 

 

Why Did the Jews Kill Jesus????

David Letterman used to have a little routine he would do on his show called “Brush with Greatness” in which he would pick a person from his audience who had encountered a luminary at some point in his/her life in some totally casual manner. That person would tell of that chance encounter and then David would hand him/her the “writer’s embellishment” to read which would be a fantasy account in which that encounter made a monumental impact on the life of that luminary. Well, in 1980 on Good Friday I had an encounter with a true luminary, an eventual earth shaker indeed, and here I will share about that encounter and then provide a “writer’s embellishment.”

The year was 1980 and I was teaching social studies at a rural school in Northwest Arkansas. The young governor of our state was dropping by on a campaign swing, recently having started the campaign against Frank White. It was early in the campaign and it was a given that the governor would win re-election in this traditional democratic state against an unheard of opponent.

The handsome young Bill Clinton entered the packed gymnasium with a full entourage. The atmosphere was electric. Governors did not often stop by little rube communities like this and I’m sure this visit was because of some local small-fry dignitary that had pulled in a favor with someone. A question-and-answer session with the student body was to be the main part of the event and so we teachers had prepared our students to ask appropriate and thoughtful questions about the political issues of the day. Mr. Clinton made a few preliminary remarks and then opened the floor to questions from the student body.

Immediately, a gangly young early-teen female already well known as not being the sharpest knife in the drawer stood up and with a shrill, loud voice, shrieked out, “WHY DID THE JEWS KILL JESUS?” Well, the first thing I thought was, “Well, at least she is not a student of mine!” There was a pause, briefly, as everyone was stunned, realizing that the question had nothing to do with the moment even if it was Easter. But the governor did not miss a beat, being the skilled politician that he was. He did not smile, or chuckle in the least, taking the question with complete sincerity and responded with the standard-issue Baptist answer, that Jesus had died, was buried, and rose again for our sins. Please note that he did not answer the question at all, demonstrating that he already had the political skills to advance to higher office.

As he and his entourage left the gymnasium I happened to be in his path and got to shake his hand, making eye contact in the process. At this point I will begin the “Literarylew” writer’s embellishment:

I knew immediately that he and I were friends for life, BFF even before the concept emerged on Facebook. I could just tell that he could “feel my pain.” The encounter lasted only a half second but I knew that I would hear from him soon. Sure enough, that night he called me and said that he really wanted to be friends, to “pal around” from time to time as he could tell that I was really a special guy, even if I was just a scmuck school teacher in a rube Arkansas high school.

So, to make a long story short, beginning then we would get together every now and then and just “hang out.” And when he became President, he secretly used campaign funds to build a heli-port in my backyard and would just drop in a couple of times a year for a visit. As soon as he landed, we would head to my ’69 Chevy pick-up. While I was trying to start the engine, he would use a bungee cord to strap down the hood and then remove the plywood from the window that had been knocked out. We would then head to the local monster truck show, knocking down a six-pack of pbr on the war, tossing the empties out the window with impunity. He explained, with a wink, “Hell, Louie, if they stop us, I can fix it!”

(NOTE: Btw, Clinton lost that gubernatorial election in 1980!)

Perils of the Muslim Brotherhood and other Misogynists.

There is a story in today’s New York Times about the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt and its concerns about women’s rights. I will share just one tidbit to illustrate the absurdity of their efforts. “A woman needs to be confined within a framework that is controlled by the man of the house,” said a Brotherhood “family expert.” He further explained, “ Even if a wife were beaten by her husband,” she must be shown, “ how she had a role in what happened to her.” (http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/15/world/middleeast/muslim-brotherhoods-words-on-women-stir-liberal-fears.html?_r=0)

The empowerment of women in my country, the United States, is one of the most significant developments I have watched unfold in my lifetime. The importance of this development is very much related to having been born into a very traditional, patriarchal, and impoverished southern family in the United States in 1952. Of course, I knew nothing of family politics in those early years as “power structures” was a notion that I didn’t learn about until much later. But once I had completed college, began reading the social sciences, philosophy, and literature voraciously, I became aware of their presence and began to interpret my own personal life from the perspective I gained.

My Dad was the “head of the household” and he had the Bible to affirm this status. He and the local church emphasized his supremacy and the duty of his wife and six children to dutifully obey his authority. And for years we complied though early in our lives we began to see the inconsistencies in his teachings and in his day to day life and our loyalty was increasingly with mother.

A key feature of dad’s power was control of the purse strings and on that note he made a politically disastrous move in the late 1950’s when he coerced mother into taking a job at a nursing home. She later would recall how she hated doing taking this job, she hated leaving her children alone in the evening hours, and hated not being able to provide the “mother-hen” love that she showered upon us her brood But she, of course, had to cave in at some point and relent because our financial needs were pronounced and dad was the “head of the household.” She worked a bit more than a year before he changed his mind and wanted her to quit though at that point she liked working, her sense of accomplishment was rewarding, and the increased disposable income was a welcome relief from the tedium of abject poverty. But, still dutiful, she acquiesced and quit her position. But, within the year she returned to work, probably because of economic need but also I’m sure because of her wish to return to the life that she was discovering in her job.

This return to work sealed dad’s fate, setting in motion forces which would allow my family to modernize and, more or less, join the world. For, mother thrived in this job as a nurses aide, gained the confidence of her boss, even enrolled in nursing school (LPN school) and completed her licensure requirements. All this time, she was bringing in steady income and this income actually superseded that which dad made in his work as a laborer in the community. Meanwhile, we kids were growing up and becoming more and more aware of dad’s short comings and, admittedly, were always being enticed by mother’s love and not-too-subtle frustrations and anger at her husband.

And, to make a long story short…and perhaps I will try to develop the story more in the future…mom finally succeeded with her quest for independence and left dad, along with her brood, in 1969. This was necessary as dad had become increasingly depressed, hostile, and had even threatened aggression on one occasion. Within two months of this separation, dad had died of an heart attack.

The point of this personal anecdote is that when women gain employment, they gain empowerment, they have the opportunity to find an identity, and to engage in the world. But when they make progress of this sort, it does pose threats to the family dynamic and, in sociological terms, to the social fabric. For one of the bedrocks of traditional, conservative cultures is the subservience of women. If women gain liberties…if I might misapply the wisdom of Todd Akin and making, admittedly, a contorted statement…the gods might just “shut this whole thing down.” Men want control.

The Muslim Brotherhood stance is very telling and I can imagine how it has the Saudi political/religious establishment “shakin’ in their booties.” If they allow these “uppity” women to make any further inroads into their political fiefdom, it will place profound stresses on the social and cultural fabric. But, reality is that a dynamic culture must allow stresses to occur and to find that as they address these stresses they can benefit immensely. But, of course, Egypt is not a dynamic society. And the “gods” always fight change, “tooth and toenail.” (And this same dynamic can currently be seen in my country particularly with the far-right extreme of the Republican party.)

Lessons from the School Yard

It was a crisp October Monday morning in 1961 in Magnet Cove, Arkansas. The mighty Magnet Cove Panthers had fallen ignominiously (again) the previous Friday night en route to another 2-8 season, Orval Faubus was championing our racist raison d’etre each day, and that damn Catholic John F. Kennedy was in the White House. But, it was morning recess time and the BMOC (Big Man on Campus) in the 3rd grade announced to the boys on the playground, “Everybody with high top boots run with me and let’s chase the girls.” Oh, was I so proud! I had high top boots and they were pretty new! Now, I was not used to being in the “in crowd” due in part to my own alienation, certainly not irrelevant to my perception that I was from an impoverished family. But, on this autumn morning, by damn, I HAD HIGH TOP BOOTS! And for a couple of weeks this social agenda predominated in that class of 27 kids and I had the delight of belonging! (By the way, the girls were meeting secretly at the same moment nearby and answering the question, “What are we gonna do today” with, “Well, let’s go out there and be cute and let the guys chase us! You are right. Nothing has changed in fifty years.)

Well, in the following years, the BMOC’s would change, usually with a bloodless coup d’etat, and the agenda would change and even mature with age. But the pattern was set. We boys and girls learned the importance of determining which category we belonged in, where the power lay in the social contract, and hooking our wagons to the one that seemed most palatable and which one was most likely to predominate.

Today I belong to several group (even though I’m still alienated as hell!) For example, I am a Democrat, I’m a heterosexual male, I’m a licensed counselor, and I’m an Episcopalian…to name just a few. But, I’m far removed from the playground and my affiliation has gone far beyond the “high top boots” phenomena. My identity supersedes these superfluous labels. Each of them are important to me, but there is something (might I say Something, or even “Someone”) more important—we are all “one flesh” and…if I might segue…, as Rodney King said, “Why can’t we all get along?” The categories are so ephemeral.