Batman and the Bush Tax Cuts: Messing With History

For ML Brewer, wherever she me be…

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it” — George Santayana

“The further backward you look, the further forward you can see.” — Winston Churchill

“We live life forward and understand it backwards” — unknown author

In a recent article in the Huffington Post, DC comics, perhaps as a nod to President Obama’s recent comments on gay marriage, have said that they plan on taking an older comic hero and having them change their orientation.

“DC co-publisher Dan DiDio, when asked why DC would switch race, size, age, all sorts of identifying features, but not orientation as they relaunch their whole catalog as “the New 52″. Surprisingly, Dan stated that they had changed DC’s policy in this regard. And they are about to reintroduce a previously existing DC character who was previously straight and now will be “one of our most prominent gay characters.” As Senior VP Sales Bob Wayne explained, just like the President of the United States, the co-publisher’s policy on this “has evolved.”  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/05/21/dc-comics-gay-superhero-i_n_1533105.html

For years, the gay community has made remarks about Batman and Robin, but DC has steadfastly refused to say anything or let anything be said about Batman’s sexual orientation. As a nod to the community, DC a year or two ago introduced Batwoman as a gay character, with Rachel Maddow writing the introduction of it’s graphic novel version. The  satirical part to all of this was that “Batwoman” was an atrocious 1950′s attempt to have there be “all things Bat” and as a response to a bizarre book in the 1950′ s that said that comics would lead to the downfall of civilization because they had homo-erotic undertones (then a ‘perversion” linked to Communism and all the other things that McCarthyism said were bad). But while it made reference to the earlier character, DC never said that the new character was the old character. They were simply acknowledging that gay folk existed and that some of them could be heroes, even in comics’ fantasy world.

Now, I should tell you that Batman is my favorite of all comics because I loved the TV show in the 1960′s. Now considered “camp”, to a 7 or 8 year old, it was full of real life lessons — be a good citizen, wear your seatbelts, be physically fit, etc. There was a lot of talk online about Batman/Bruce Wayne being the character whose sexuality would change and every bit of my being was screaming “can’t you just leave my childhood alone?!” when I read the news. The point of comics for years — at least at DC — was that life existed without sex. The contrast wasn’t heterosexuality vs. homosexuality. It was between sexuality itself and asexuality. For years — generations upon generation– sexual activity was a private matter not discussed in public. Sexuality in general was discussed — people were going to grow up straight and get married because they loved other and babies were going to be magically born.  Today, gay folks are accepted not because people picture them having sex, but because people acknowledge that they are in love and babies are now magically born to them. Anti-gay folks, I think, can’t get over the sex part. People worry that our culture is hyper-obsessed with sex, not with love. Love, they like.

[By now, you're probably wondering what the Bush Tax Cuts have to do with all of this. I promise I'll get back to them, let me just ramble on/fill out my thoughts a little more first].

An African-American history professor and I were recently talking about raising kids without any sense of “the struggle” — and how we had this vague sense of problem with it. We don’t want our children — his Black son and my White daughters — to have to struggle  because of their race or gender, but we get some vague sense that they should feel the excitement of growth, of standing up for what’s right, of standing up for themselves, of being grateful for what they have because it wasn’t always this way. As much as we don’t want our children to suffer (and we feel dumb for thinking they should), we realize that facing these challenges made our generation who we are.

When I taught at Manchester Community College, there was this sense with my students of disconnection from history, as though this generation sort of free-floated in time. Their versions of my lifetime were skewed by spin and cuteness rather than related to reality. The peace sign, for instance, wasn’t a challenge to society for them, it was a piece of jewelry that looked really cool. For me, that sign gained any meaning it had because it was a statement — a challenging of a world at war for poor reasons.

One of the recent “advances” in the academic world is what they call “post-modernism”, based on the philosophy of a man named Foucault who basically says that reality doesn’t matter as much as the meaning we give to it. Homosexuality, for instance, has always been around. How we view it in different societies, times, or places, has changed.  As someone whose reality has been challenged at various times due to disbelief or unwillingness to believe, Foucault has always bothered me. My clients lives are changed because frequently I believe their reality, as well its meaning, for the very first time.  It’s not just that they “make a big deal” of their trauma. It actually hurts — and they feel crazy when their reality (which hurts so much) is denied.

Related to all of this is the fact that there was an African-American professor  in New York City who was blatantly making up history in the 1980′s because his “right” to create mythology was just as valid as White folks who were writing history texts. If post-modernism is correct, then this professor was right in what he did. But what happened to the reality of history? Where was that?

I don’t care that Bruce Wayne might be gay or that my hero Batman might be because in the world of DC comics, just like in the reality of public life, people’s sex lives don’t matter.  I assume that all my friends have sex, it just doesn’t  matter to me. I care about what they do in my life — the life outside of the bedroom. Maybe it’s because I like life in the 10 year old’s “latency phase” or maybe because society does just fine without thinking about sex.  But, more importantly, I don’t think you should change history. If you pick and choose what parts of history should look like, based on the modern version of them as constructed by the latest generation, we’ll take the easy way out.  If people were “always” gay or anything else — if women always had voting rights, if African-Americans were always kings, then they never had to fight for their rights. It’s not that we learned from the past. There is no past — only what the present wants to hear.

So now, suddenly, when women’s rights are under attack, the history of bad ideas has to be fought all over again, without any knowledge of why they were bad ideas in the first place.  “Because we’ve always had birth control” is not a real answer when it comes to defending why  women need it. “Because it’s our right” is not an answer to “why is it a right”? When I read old psychology text written in the old way, “he” meaning “he or she”, they seem outdated now. They are difficult to read but I have to remember that that’s how we thought back then, even if it’s not the way we think now. Yes, it’s work to do this, but I also know we have been fools in the past and  we could be fools in the present.  That humility hopefully slows me down enough to not take myself or someone else too seriously.

In a timeline that has a real past, we can make judgements about what we want the present to be. In a timeline that has a real present, we can make decisions about what the future should be …. which leads me to the Bush tax cuts.

Recently, Nancy Pelosi got in some trouble due to considering extending the Bush tax cuts. At stake, it seems, was the philosophy of the cuts. Democrats thought one way, Republicans thought another. No one was dealing with the reality of the cuts.  The only reason to change course on something is if it doesn’t fit with the context of today’s reality. When Bush proposed them, he thought that they would have a certain positive effect on the economy. I thought they were a bad idea even back then, but he was the president and I wasn’t and the fact of the matter is that he could have been right. Maybe, in fact, he was when he proposed them. People had more money in their pockets and — for a brief period — they added to the economy by spending “their” tax money.

Those who believe in trickle-down economics believe that the wealthy are or will be “job creators”.  If that’s true, where are the jobs they are creating? If the wealthy aren’t going to create jobs with their new-found wealth, then the predictions failed. We should go back to the old way because the policy doesn’t work and doesn’t fit with the context that we now have. In an economy where where jobs are being created, the tax cuts make sense because they add to the fairness in the world. In an economy where jobs aren’t being created, and people’s needs are not being met, those who aren’t making the system work shouldn’t continue to make the decisions that make it worse.

The action/reflection model works if we actually reflect on our actual reality. It doesn’t as long as we argue about the philosophy of the reality — about what should be, what we believe to be, what we want to believe, rather than what is. We can only make changes in present reality and past reality by acknowledging what reality is. Let’s try to make things actually happen for ourselves — not by saying we’ve changed, but by knowing we have.

 

Peace,

 

John

 

 

 

 

 

When Politicians And Pundits Whine — Obama and Everyone Else

We live in a country right now which values mediocrity — or thinks it should.

Today, President Obama affirmed that he is in support of gay marriage.  Like his opinion (I do) or not (many good friends of mine, for religious reasons, mostly), Obama has — in one day — become the boldest President for at least a generation. My immediate impression is that he’ll get shot for saying so. Some GOP state party was already allowing someone to publish an editorial calling for armed revolution if he gets elected again. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/05/08/greene-county-virginia-gop-obama-revolution_1501510.html?ref=mostpopular  That was before his decision was announced. Bullies like to be violent when they aren’t listened to. Then there’s Ted Nugent. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lawrence-d-elliott/ted-nugent-dont-dismiss-h_b_1438779.html Then there are the guys who were recently charged with planning an assassination. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/10/27/obama-assassination-plot_n_138297.html

In the midst of this, Obama says he’s for gay marriage.  I hope the Secret Service keeps its eye out and I hope that nothing ever happens to him. That said, I saw a list of comments (“tweets”) about the announcement. That’s where I was fascinated. Many people supported his decision, but the few pundits and politicians who were against it just were stunned and had things like this to say, “He’s playing politics” and “He’s pandering”.  That’s it? That’s the best they’ve got? Seriously?

I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before, but “He’s playing politics” is a pretty light insult.  He’s a professional politician. He’s supposed to play politics. That’s his job!  To say a man is doing his job is hardly an insult. One may not like what he’s doing with his job. That’s fair. Saying that he’s doing it is not an insult. Furthermore, he’s apparently (again, for good or ill) being a leader — making the tough decisions that he thinks he needs to make.

Then the whole “pandering” charge… “Pandering” to who? 10% of the population?!! Ooooh, that’ll get him a lot of votes. Pandering to the people that want to kill him? That’s not really “pandering” in any way that I know of. If he’s pandering for votes,  and he’s any kind of politician at all, he’s going to want a lot of votes for this decision. If he gets a lot of votes for this decision (which may, in fact, be the case), we call that “democracy” where I’m from.  Doing things that people want to see done for the privilege of being elected… honestly, that’s called democracy.

He’s either being a leader or he’s being a politician or he’s for democracy. If those tags are the worst you can be called at the end of the day, you’re doing ok in life.

Good for him. Whiny of them.

Peace,

 

John

A Request of Subscribers…

I don’t know who all of you are re: “Like It Matters” (there doesn’t seem to be a way to find out, as far as I can tell), so I’m doing it this way. If you subscribe to “Like It Matters”, you might also like my other (newer) blog: “Because It Matters”  It features the same “high class” writing style by that same “high class” author.  I  have/will continue to write “Like…” but am trying to be more positive and less “snarky” on “Because…” (think “more Oprah-ish”) because I think it’s important to say positive things about important people/ideas, etc.

“Because” can be found at … http://revlmftblog2.com

(BTW, I know you’re busy and probably have more important things to do than read something else. I have really enjoyed the comments I’ve seen in “Like…” and thought you might like to know about “Because” — you are under no obligation, and you don’t have to give back the free phone that looks like a football  ; ) )

Anyway…

Peace,

 

John

 

Why I Hate Men’s Cosmetics and Fashion

As I read the New York Times Headlines email this morning, there was an article that was trying to make one of my pet peeves popular.  Every once in awhile its specter pops up in culture and it continues to fail miserably, but it drives me nuts every time I see it. The article was called “Manlashes, Manscara and Mantyhose”. In fact, the article’s title drove me sooo nuts, I didn’t even read the article. Let me explain why.

The women’s cosmetic industry is already a scam and violates enough of my principles. It seems dumb to me to buy into the same scam under the guise of “open-mindedness”.

Let me be clear on my biases.  First off, I’m married, so my wife doesn’t have to “catch” me, and I don’t have to “catch” her. I guess that the cosmetics industry is designed for that whole process – attraction, sex, ongoing relationship, marriage.  Even before that, when I was still single, though, I was also aware that I could lust after a woman who is without makeup, without perfume, without a push-up bra or fake nipples (for reasons unknown to me, we had Frederick’s of Hollywood catalogs delivered when I was a kid. Eeeew)  or hair dye.

Nature makes some fine looking women all on its own.  I can also enjoy a woman’s company if she makes me laugh or is politically astute or is a nice person or chops her own wood (I kid you not. In college, one of my favorite women lived in a bus, didn’t shave her legs, and chopped her own wood).  When I was single, I remember that I liked to know what I was getting before I (hopefully) got there. I didn’t like being lied to. If I was attracted to a red-head or a blonde, in 6 months, I would have liked her to still be a red-head or a blonde.

Long and short of it –  if I was attracted to you because of what you looked like and I later found out that that’s not what you actually looked like, our relationship was built on a lie. If I was attracted to you because you were funny or smart or strong out of bed, no matter what you looked like in bed, I was probably going to be OK.

Generally, I find that we suffer from enough craziness because our society is built on lies. I don’t need any more of them.  Breast augmentation, collagen lips and a butt that was padded with jeans just seemed weird to me. They still do. Pretending you are 25 when you are 55 or 65 seems like you are lying to the world and yourself. Why? You’re either likeable or you are not. If you can’t handle your getting older, who is to say you could handle mine? Since I plan on getting older, it only seems fair to expect my wife (or future wife when I was dating) to do the same.

I have since come to understand that women sometimes put on make-up or nice clothes because they like it, and not necessarily to attract/entice/seduce a mate or potential mate. I still don’t get it, but I accept that it’s true.

I understand that that is true for some men out there as well. There are guys out there who like earrings or thick cologne (or in the old days, the Don Johnson look and fake disco chest hair). At the hospital today, I heard that men are shaving their body hair (all of it!) off, even if they aren’t having surgery. It takes me enough time to get out of the house now. If I had to “primp” before I left, I’d get to work by noon. So, I get that men are becoming more interested in such things, but I’ll never understand why.  The time, the money, the lies and the chemicals are too much for me on women. The idea that this could be a new norm means somebody wants it to be. I’m betting that it’s the cosmetics industry and the designer who wants to charge me thirty dollars more to put his name on my jeans. It’s certainly not me.

Why would I want to lie to you? If you like my dark hair, what would you say if you discovered I was wearing a toupee? Is it ok that one of us has a hairy chest? If you’ll let me be me, I’ll let you be you. Frankly, even if you don’t let me be me, I’ll let you be you. I just won’t hang around. As I sit here with my little pony-tail, it’s not because I don’t want to get in touch with my feminine side. It’s that I don’t want to get in touch with my objectified side.

So, given all of that, I can’t get into mantyhose, or manscaping or any of that stuff and I don’t want to. And I hope we never do.

Peace,

 

John

“

Why I Hate Men’s Cosmetics and Fashion

As I read the New York Times Headlines email this morning, there was an article that was trying to make one of my pet peeves popular.  Every once in awhile its specter pops up in culture and it continues to fail miserably, but it drives me nuts every time I see it. The article was called “Manlashes, Manscara and Mantyhose”. In fact, the article’s title drove me sooo nuts, I didn’t even read the article. Let me explain why.

The women’s cosmetic industry is already a scam and violates enough of my principles. It seems dumb to me to buy into the same scam under the guise of “open-mindedness”.

Let me be clear on my biases.  First off, I’m married, so my wife doesn’t have to “catch” me, and I don’t have to “catch” her. I guess that the cosmetics industry is designed for that whole process – attraction, sex, ongoing relationship, marriage.  Even before that, when I was still single, though, I was also aware that I could lust after a woman who is without makeup, without perfume, without a push-up bra or fake nipples (for reasons unknown to me, we had Frederick’s of Hollywood catalogs delivered when I was a kid. Eeeew)  or hair dye.

Nature makes some fine looking women all on its own.  I can also enjoy a woman’s company if she makes me laugh or is politically astute or is a nice person or chops her own wood (I kid you not. In college, one of my favorite women lived in a bus, didn’t shave her legs, and chopped her own wood).  When I was single, I remember that I liked to know what I was getting before I (hopefully) got there. I didn’t like being lied to. If I was attracted to a red-head or a blonde, in 6 months, I would have liked her to still be a red-head or a blonde.

Long and short of it –  if I was attracted to you because of what you looked like and I later found out that that’s not what you actually looked like, our relationship was built on a lie. If I was attracted to you because you were funny or smart or strong out of bed, no matter what you looked like in bed, I was probably going to be OK. 

Generally, I find that we suffer from enough craziness because our society is built on lies. I don’t need any more of them.  Breast augmentation, collagen lips and a butt that was padded with jeans just seemed weird to me. They still do. Pretending you are 25 when you are 55 or 65 seems like you are lying to the world and yourself. Why? You’re either likeable or you are not. If you can’t handle your getting older, who is to say you could handle mine? Since I plan on getting older, it only seems fair to expect my wife (or future wife when I was dating) to do the same.

I have since come to understand that women sometimes put on make-up or nice clothes because they like it, and not necessarily to attract/entice/seduce a mate or potential mate. I still don’t get it, but I accept that it’s true.

I understand that that is true for some men out there as well. There are guys out there who like earrings or thick cologne (or in the old days, the Don Johnson look and fake disco chest hair). At the hospital today, I heard that men are shaving their body hair (all of it!) off, even if they aren’t having surgery. It takes me enough time to get out of the house now. If I had to “primp” before I left, I’d get to work by noon. So, I get that men are becoming more interested in such things, but I’ll never understand why.  The time, the money, the lies and the chemicals are too much for me on women. The idea that this could be a new norm means somebody wants it to be. I’m betting that it’s the cosmetics industry and the designer who wants to charge me thirty dollars more to put his name on my jeans. It’s certainly not me.

Why would I want to lie to you? If you like my dark hair, what would you say if you discovered I was wearing a toupee? Is it ok that one of us has a hairy chest? If you’ll let me be me, I’ll let you be you. Frankly, even if you don’t let me be me, I’ll let you be you. I just won’t hang around. As I sit here with my little pony-tail, it’s not because I don’t want to get in touch with my feminine side. It’s that I don’t want to get in touch with my objectified side.

So, given all of that, I can’t get into mantyhose, or manscaping or any of that stuff and I don’t want to. And I hope we never do.

Peace,

 

John

 

 

                                                                                                                                             “

Redemption Song

“Won’t you sing/these songs of freedom/’cause all I ever heard/redemption songs” — Bob Marley

This week I have been thinking a lot about salvation/redemption/forgiveness in various areas of my life. I was compelled to write this because I heard a man’s story that reminded just how far people can come in life and it got me to thinking. how little thought/belief we put into redemption. In short, if a person messes up, can they fix it? Can they heal? Can they get better? Does jail or punishment really work? Does it accomplish what we want it to? 

Here’s the story I was inspired by:  A client of mine, on-and-off for years announced he was getting married and settling down. She (his fiancee’) was going to make an honest man of him. At some point, she asked him, “You’re not going to do that anymore, right? You did a lot of bad things. You’ve had a good run. You’re not going back there, right?” He thought about it and said, “No. I’m done”. He went on to detail that the step-child he will be raising actually believes in him, and believes he can do all things, and it makes him smile. 

Now when I say “bad things”, I mean bad things. This man, years before I knew him, was into gangs, was an enforcer of sorts, has some number of felony counts well beyond the “three strikes” rules we now consider a norm. He told me the other day that — over the course of his lifetime, he had more than one attempted murder charge brought against him. But that was him 8 or 10 years ago. In the time I have known him, his heart has always been in the right place and his children were at the heart of it.

His is the classic story of abuse, addiction, failing in school, learning to fight and living on the streets leading to his being paid by people to beat other people up by a criminal element that waits for kids like him to fall in with them. 

Years ago, when I met him, his girlfriend was cheating on him, he was doing drugs, maybe selling drugs, I don’t know. His brother had died of an overdose or in a gang hit or something, but what bothered him was that his girlfriend wasn’t taking care of the kids. He didn’t want his kids growing up like he did. When he finally left her, she went into a spiral of self-destruction that is hard to imagine. Their children were taken away by children’s protective services.and that was the game-changer. When they were taken away from her, they couldn’t give them to him with any kind of logic. He was legendary among local police departments for being mean and dangerous. This left him heartbroken, this man who so many people didn’t even think had a heart. 

He wanted to prove to DCF that he could handle the children, that he could stop drinking and drugging, that he didn’t have to be violent, that his children could go well beyond his life-style. And he had to do it while avoiding jail, because if he went to jail, he’d been told he wasn’t coming out. In the time I have known him he has fought against drugs, failed, and finally succeeded. He has had two failed relationships, but each was better than the last, and he now has a fiancee without  a criminal record, who has never had trouble with the law because she’s a good person.. And she connects with him because he has become a good person. He now gets weekend visits with one child, has the other nearby and has managed to put his family back together again. He has made peace with his ex (the mother of the children) and apologized for not supporting her emotionally, because he always met his financial responsibilities. 

Overlaying this was a meeting I went to early in the week where my friend Carrol was using the language of salvation and hoping to be commissioned as a Christian educator. She talked about “coming to Jesus” and “being saved from her sins” and “the authority of the Bible” and such things. The highly educated clergy and lay people around the table were uncomfortable with the language but were struck by her genuineness. She called something out of them called hope, I think, and they knew she would pass that on to any church she served. Still, at least some of them had to wrap their heads around her way of coming at the faith.

In the liberal church, we deal with salvation all the time, but the story of “God killing his only Son” as the means to doing it just doesn’t make sense. We don’t really get how doing that makes things better for anybody. but Carrol’s faith says it did and — however she got there — she has hope. In my frustration the other night, trying to bridge her worldview with theirs, I reminded them that, “There are whole sections of the UCC that believe in Salvation!” and all kinds of emotions exploded into raucous laughter. Of course they did, I realized, because all of the people in the room had some belief about how Christ works in the world and why we have hope, etc. For me, Jesus dying on the cross doesn’t make any sense to me, but there came a point in my life that I thought I needed salvation/forgiveness and, just in case that story was how it worked, I trusted God enough to believe, even if it makes no logical sense to me. So, yes, I had to suspend logic in order to believe.I didn’t suspend logic in the rest of my life, I just suspended it there and have become a better person because I believed it was possible to get better. “because the Bible tells me so”. 

But forgiveness and salvation and redemption aren’t really logical propositions. You can’t un-harm somebody. When people do damage to each other, it’s real — and often-times long-lasting. There are millions of people, for instance, in 12-Step rooms who can recount the damage they have done. They understand that what they have done is unforgivable, and yet they ask for forgiveness from somebody, accepting the answer “no” on occasion because the damage is real.And yet, people do change. They do it all the time. 

There are stories of the person who was a radical bomber years ago who fled the law and became a solid member of their school department with decent kids and so on. They lived decent lives for 20 or 30 years and now they are going to jail for some thing they did years ago. I always wonder what good sending them to jail does. They have done — on their own — the very thing that jail is supposed to do: redeem them. What’s the point? 

Our ideas about the world are becoming more black-and-white every day: Once a pedophile, always a pedophile.Lock them up forever.  Once a minister who hurt his or her congregation, always a minister who will. Take away their right to work in any other church. Once a criminal, always a criminal. “Three strikes and you’re out”. Lock them away for life. None of these are values we held 30 years ago.  Many people today still don’t, in the recesses of their heart, because they want to have hope.

Without hope, life is not worth living. And yet, we don’t want to be naive and foolish enough not to protect ourselves from a credible threat. Pedophiles, pastors, criminals of all sorts shouldn’t be trusted until they’ve proven they can be. But what if they do prove it? What if they do grow and change? What if they do see their lives and change them? What if they refuse to pass on the horrible lives they been given? What of they swear to themselves that their children will not know the horrors they did? 

John the Baptist and Jesus both called us to “repent”. We somehow misunderstand that. We think that “repentance” means apologizing.and saying we’re sorry. It doesn’t. The Hebrew word for “repentance” is “shoov” and it means, “turn around, go back, return to the right way”. Apologizing is a step in that process, but it is not the whole process. And yet, we in modern times, stop there. Why would be called to something we cannot do? .Let us have more hope than that. Let us demand more of ourselves and our brothers and sisters in humanity. Let’s ask for, and believe in, real repentance. 

The other option — lock people in emotional jails of “you’re stuck” or lock them in actual jails for $80,000 per year — doesn’t seem to be working. Not when you know people like the man whose getting married.

Peace,

 

John

The Road To Recovery Is Paved With A Blog (5,000 “Thank You”s)

Something happened the other day that kind of caught me off guard — having not written anything for awhile, the stats for this blog were toodling along slowly. Then, suddenly, something I’d thought would happen in 2011 happened about a week into the new year — the “stats” counter on my blog went wild and I shpt across the 5,000 + line.  What that means is that, since July of 2010, five thousand people have checked in this blog!

It breaks down to: 5122 views, 176 posts over 29  months or — on average 29  readers for everything I have written, some far more and some far less. In case you’re curious, these are the Top 10.  Posts in general have more than the numbers listed there, because “home page” — whatever was posted that day–  has about 1,800 hits.  Still, here they are:

Title		Views
Guess Again: The Top 100 Albums of All Time		99
What If Good News Prevailed?		89
Do Your Own Theology — The Bible and Its Authority		79
South Church — Better Than It Has To Be		76
Liner Notes — Beebs and Her Money Makers, “Welcome to Barter Town”		63
Surprise! People Are Mad! Oops, Wrong People!		59
I’m sad, but this IS America…		53
A Theology of Ordination		53
Trucks Going Both Ways — Maine and the WHOLE gay thing…		52
Didn’t See That One Coming…		48

The reason I tell you all this is that I like numbers. Numbers are facts. Numbers are markers. Numbers are somehow more real than feelings, thoughts, etc, even if they are not more important.

So what does this have to do with recovery? 47 years ago, when I was 4, some God-awful things happened to me that kind of turned my mental world upside down. I don’t find any reason to say more than that, because, as of Tuesday, January 10,2011 — when the numbers hit 5, 000 — I am officially back from those events.

The long and short of how it all affected me is this: My good side became my “Shadow” and I unwittingly hung out an invisible  ”kick me” sign, which people have taken the opportunity to use over the course of my lifetime.  For those of you not acquainted with the concept, Carl Jung coined the phrase, “Shadow” to describe the part of ourselves which we don’t acknowledge or accept.  So, for about the last 47 years, I could acknowledge that there was Good in the world, but mentally I couldn’t accept that it could come from me.  This blog — your readership — helped me change that.  So, for everyone who ever cared enough to read my work, I owe a profound “thank you”.

For probably the first 10 years after what happened, I was the kid that people (I think) loved to hate. I was awkward,” too smart” for some, too nerdy for others, too greasy and too smelly for others,  too “gay” in Junior High (I didn’t like to beat people up and –more often than not — couldn’t).  And somehow, it all made sense to me, because I was those things.  If it was bad, I was it. Everybody said so, so it must have been true.

An experience with God and my mother’s insistence  kept me interested in church, and I almost had a girlfriend — (a girl who didn’t laugh at me when I hung out with her in the nursery, named Lynn Anderson), but I remained — for most kids — “weird”.

Freshman year in High School promised much the same thing. Even the kids no one would hang out with wouldn’t want to hang out with me. Then the world changed. We moved to Wilbraham, Mass (in the suburbs)  just up the road from Springfield (the  city, where we lived), which was just up the road from Chicopee (the poorer, smaller city where we had lived for my childhood).  School wasn’t really different, but the Wilbraham United Church certainly was. There was a healthy, fun-loving Youth Group and short curly-haired Youth Minister named Bob Kyte.

One day, Bob showed up at our house and asked my mother if it was OK that I go to “Leadership Camp”. As recently as a few months ago, I thought that Bob was BS-ing my mother.  Today, I consider the possibility that he might have actually seen something. In any case, that visit to the house sent me to Deering, my spiritual and emotional home for all-time. The Deering Camp and Conference Center’s Sr. High Camp #2 stunned me. I honestly didn’t know what to think for the first few days, because I had never seen such a community.  They didn’t think I “had five heads”. The campers and the staff treated me like an actual human being. They loved me — not because I was this or that, not because I earned it or didn’t. They loved me simply because God created me and that was good enough for them.  I don’t remember a person, for the entire week, picking on me. Not one.  While I probably thought I had five heads, they wouldn’t have cared if I did. In addition to my call to ministry happening that week with the wonderful Peter Wells there, I cam across a book that would change my life: Peoplemaking by Virginia Satir, which I somehow connect with Mike Gatchell (maybe he brought it there or something. I don’t know). Satir’s book changed my life because it said that families could be whatever they wanted and they could be happy. I had experienced a new world at Deering, and I could dream about a new world via Peoplemaking. (Yes, I’m sure I thought the book was about sex. What else does a 14-year-old boy think about?)

From that time on, I knew there could be Good in the world,  and I was determined to make it be that way.  But my spirit remained the way it had always been: There was Good in the world, but somehow — no matter what they said — it didn’t apply to me. I could soak up the holiness at Deering,  but in my heart of hearts, I “knew” I didn’t fit there, with those wonderful people.

But I made it to seminary, Gordon gave me a good recommendation, and I was on my way.  I didn’t really fit there, either. I wasn’t female enough, gay enough, foreign enough, Black enough or whatever to understand what life was “really like”.  I was, as Charlie Crook and I used to say, “The White Male Oppressor”.  But, for a guy who was racist, sexist, homophobic and whatever I was believed to be, I suddenly had friends — Todd Farnsworth (who was really holy) and Joe Tripp and I became fast friends. Without really knowing what I was doing, I was leading the biggest prayer group on campus — and the only one, I gather for years before that.  I thought that’s what you did at seminary, and so it’s what we did at seminary. And I knew in my heart that I wasn’t any of those “isms” because I had learned about Women’s Liberation and Men’s Liberation ten years before that at Deering.  And I knew what health looked like from Satir’s work.

But I still believed I was weird — lucky to be surrounded by friends — but generally weird. My first internship confirmed that, but I sent my first bunch of kids to Deering and they were changed, just as I knew they would be. I had done something right.

I talked with my friend Leigh McCaffrey (from Prayer Group) one night about the dreams I’d had every night since I was a kid, when she said, “That’s not normal” and my past demons sprung to life. All the love that Deering-ites had shown me was now being changed with something new — honesty.  While Deering folks would have liked me if I had five heads, I didn’t like myself having them. I wanted to be “normal”, whatever that was.

For a year I was out of the Parish and wrestling with those demons while attending school and being miserable. I was ready to drop out. Maybe I was wrong about God’s call. Then Gordon showed up and gave me perspective. Later,  Todd called me from his former internship and asked if was interested in a staff position at Centre Congregational Church in Lynnfield.  This, too, changed my life. Having done some good for kids prior, I was confident I could do something there. The staff there was wonderful. Mark Strickland let me do my own thing. Marilyn the Associate Pastor didn’t “get” me, but she realized she didn’t have to. The kids and I clicked and I have been absolutely blessed to have them and their families in my life since then. At my ordination, they were there. At my wedding, they were there. When they go married, I was invited. Bob, Derek, Dawn and the rest of the Cunninghams, I owe you soo much. Rob and Bill McCarthy, I can’t imagine life without you. Matt and Camille Utterback , the same. Lisa Dodge, Ken Warnock, wherever you are, I have been soo blessed by you, especially at my first church in Upstate, NY when you came up to visit. Oh, and special “Hi!” to Shawn Murphy and SAC. In seminary, when my peers told me I wouldn’t be a good minister because I didn’t think like they did, that Youth Group proved otherwise. They were changed and I was changed by that ministry — by the grace of God, not me, but God in me. And, yes, they too made the Deering connection and were changed.

In my last semester at seminary, a woman from one of my classes — Mary Dean-Lee pulled me aside and said, “I’m sorry to have missed you before this. You’re not who people think. You’re going to be a great minister”.  And my outlook about myself — because she had nothing to gain from that comment — began to change.

I had my first church and — somewhat because I wasn’t used to “normal” —  I failed.  Looking back on it, the church was working through a trauma of its own and I made every possible mis-step I could. But the Youth Group was wonderful. The Sloths, the Christensens,  (all of them), the Ripleys  and Lisa’s family were great and remain treasured friends to this day.

A few years after that, in Rochester, I came into contact with AA and the 12-Step model and began to realize that God could forgive whatever I done in my lifetime — whatever that was, and I was sure I’d done something.

Years later, I went to grad school, tried a new-church start, and in each place, my sense of self (my IALAC sign, for those in the know) got stronger.

I wrote a book (Thanks Liz and Leigh. I sold another one this month!) and later decided to write a blog. With Liz’s and Cathi Chapin-Bishop’s help, I began doing this. I thought I’d write one thing, get it off my chest, and go on with life. Alas, it didn’t work out that way.  People began thinking I knew what I was doing as a blogger!

In 2010, something changed, finally. I had begun to write this blog around that time, and I found myself with my very own “in-care student” (someone on  their way to becoming ordained).  Char Corbett is a fantastic, holy person and yet, here she was coming to me for guidance. I began to think that I might actually have something worth giving. After all, you can’t give what you don’t have. When Char got ordained, the blog had continued to grow. Now, after all those years in the parish, I was a minister.  Thanks to Char who never realized what I secretly believed — that I had nothing to offer her, because she was a better minister than I was.

And the blog grew. Bob and I fought. Val and I agreed. Bob and I agreed. Rob wrote in. Cathi wrote in.  I was someone, sort of, and not just in my own head. The numbers proved it.

Then my friend from California, Craig Hames, called and told me that I was some sort of holy person to him — the person who said the right thing at the right time, even if I didn’t know it.  A while later, I figured it out. While I was never going to be the Gordon Sherman, I fit the same function for Craig: the one God sends to help when in trouble.  I wasn’t the real Gordon, but I was somebody’s “Gordon”. All of these things integrated into my being and I was nearly recovered after 46 years of trying.  I was blessed, fresh on the heels of my triumph wih Char, with Carrol Cyr as a new “member in discernment”. And the blog continued our development. She could argue with it, get mad at it, agree with it, “wonder where that came from” or whatever, but we both grew because of it.  In a few weeks, Carrol will probably get to be a Commissioned Minister in the UCC.

Finally topping  off the ministry thing was Susan Townsley at Ron Brown’s installation. I had known Susan from Bridgeport where — while I did some good work, I felt like a colossal failure. She had been on the church and ministry committee when they had put my standing “on the back burner”. There were two possibilities here: 1) They were organizing and had to because I was out of state or 2) I really was a bad minister and they were trying to cover themselves by politely withdrawing my standing.  That day, she was there and gave  me a hug and seemed generally glad to see me.  She gave no sense of “ooh, what an idiot”.  Maybe I’m conflating events, but I think that members of the Bridgeport Church were actually there that day, and they were happy to see me — or at least didn’t vomit or run away.  However good or bad I had been, I had not been evil or destructive. I hadn’t destroyed God’s gift.  If I wasn’t evil and I was doing something good in the world, maybe I was a good person. Maybe I did fit in the church. Maybe I did fit in with the Deering folks — and what could that mean but that I was a human being after all?!

The Deering Reunion this year and David Hauser’s just simple acceptance made me know that it might be true. It turns out that David was in my very first living group all those years ago and he remembered me as a seemingly  normal person –even back then! If I have even some of the spark within me that Paula Richards and Sue Tatem and Buzz and Gary have, it’s possible that I’m way more human than I would have guessed. It astounds me that it’s taken me this long to figure it out, but that’s what abuse does, I guess.

In any case, I was ready to say I was back to full human status at the end of last year because people thought highly of my blog when I ran out of steam at year’s end. Then something happened that I didn’t expect — even without writing, the stats took off. Somebody was reading this. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I hit the 5,ooo mark!  Looking back, my wife has liked it, my friends have liked it, Helen Caldicott liked it for goodness sake! Ed Smith said some nice things the other day. Clients have seen it and liked it.  People I don’t even know have liked it — not always, but that’s to be expected.

It shouldn’t take 47 years and 5,000 people reading this blog for me to get over my past, but it did. For those of you who have read it, each little click of care, every good comment, every reasonable argument or simple “huh?” meant my ideas and I mattered. Every passing comment of “I like your writing” or “I like your blog” put back a piece of me. And so, I thank you, for all you have meant to me, readers.

And as it has been for me, I remind you that no kind word, gesture, or action ever goes un-noticed. It may confuse people. It may even, when people are really twisted, anger them. But it never, ever goes un-noticed. Know that all your kindness, your care, your support have helped me like myself and feel human. For people that already start off as human, your words, your kindness, your caring propel them into the stratosphere of love.  You are truly miracle workers in my life and the lives of others. I’m good for awhile. Whether you ever  read this blog again or not, keep up the good work.

Peace,

 

John

P.S. Since they weren’t explicitly mentioned in here, Thanks to my best friend Alan Bercovici for all the golf games through the years and thanks to Tony Briand for always being sane during High School. My brother’s a great guy and my sister rocks. And my kids love “Florida grandpa”.

The Ten Commandments and Politics

I made the mistake of listening to talk radio today in my car — left-wing talk radio (WHMP in Northampton, Mass), but talk radio nonetheless. They were discussing the Republican candidates and the most recent charge against Herman Cain, why it means this for Newt Gingrich, or that for Mitt Romney, and why this candidate or that candidate should or shouldn’t be included.  They were discussing whether Cain’s private life was the problem or whether his allegedly lying was the problem, and so on and so forth and I thought to myself, ” Does it really have to be this complex? Isn’t there some other way to decide who’s a good choice for President or elected official.  Taking really basic guidelines, here’s my proposal.

From Exodus 20: 2 -

² “I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.  –  The elected person should not put their constituents into any type of slavery — emotional slavery of any sort —  or literal  slavery (i.e. you work very hard for someone else for no money at all).

³ “You shall have no other gods before  me. – The elected person should not take an oath to any person, ideology, (maybe party?) other than serving their constituents and/or the country as a whole.  This means no pledges to “Never Raise Taxes”, no pledges like the Contract for America, no pledges to the NRA or PETA or anybody.

⁴ “You shall not make for yourself an image in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. ⁵ You shall not bow down to them or worship them” —    The elected person should not pretend they are something they are not. They shouldn’t craft an image of themselves as pure in any form that they are not. They shouldn’t pay anyone else to craft an image of themselves as pure in any form that they are not. They should let someone else craft an image of themselves as “pure” in any form that they are not.  This means no “spin doctors”, no PACs, maybe no soundbites.

⁷ “You shall not misuse the name of the LORD your God, for the LORD will not hold anyone guiltless who misuses his name. — The elected person should not ever claim to be doing things because God told them to, unless it’s actually true. In that case, the person should be tested for sanity. If they are sane, and they’re telling the truth that God said it, they should use God’s name.  If it can’t meet both of those rules, it’s blasphemy for religious types and just plain a lie for secular ones.

⁸ “Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. ⁹ Six days you shall labor and do all your work, ¹⁰ but the seventh day is a sabbath to the LORD your God. On it you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your male or female servant, nor your animals, nor any foreigner residing in your towns. ¹¹ For in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh day. Therefore the LORD blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy. — The elected official should take time off to reflect as often as necessary.

¹² “Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you”.  – The elected official should remember their history, but also honor their forebears by being able to meet the challenges of their own day. I want my kids to be respectful of me, but I also want them to be themselves. Let’s take that to the national level.

¹³ “You shall not murder” — Murderers need not apply, in general. People who like war should not be elected. The term often used is “kill”, but the actual term is murder – planned killing. War is planned killing in a larger scale. I understand that countries need to do things at times in self-defense. But war as “conquering” — nope.

¹⁴ “You shall not commit adultery” — straightforward.

¹⁵ “You shall not steal” — in any way , from anybody — especially your constituents. In addition, maybe no lobbying after you’ve left office.

¹⁶ “You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor. — also straightforward — but so far from the debates and the ads.

¹⁷ “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house. You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or his male or female servant, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.” — The elected person should not taking what’s not theirs, either from countries or from other people. They shouldn’t  abuse their power just because they have it. No sexual harassment, then.

The text continues:

¹⁸ When the people saw the thunder and lightning and heard the trumpet and saw the mountain in smoke, they trembled with fear. They stayed at a distance ¹⁹ and said to Moses, “Speak to us yourself and we will listen. But do not have God speak to us or we will die.”

²⁰ Moses said to the people, “Do not be afraid. God has come to test you, so that the fear of God will be with you to keep you from sinning.”

²¹ The people remained at a distance, while Moses approached the thick darkness where God was.

We are in such a mess right now, because we are so far from where we should be. Yeah, we’re afraid of God, and yeah there’s a thick cloud between us and God — not because we created that cloud, that thick wall between us and the way things should be. Our government ought to be afraid of a truly just God if this is where we’re at.

By the way — last thing.  Because it’s only my opinion, nobody should ever use this as some kind of litmus test. It’s not anything else to pledge allegiance to.  But it’s a place to start.

Peace,

John

Occupying Space In Our Consciousness

As people who read this blog know, I have been supportive of Occupy Wall Street, even though it hasn’t done anything. Even without demands, even without violence, even without leaders, though, the movement has done something. In fact, it has done more than leaders, pundits, violence, budgets, etc., have done for years. It has changed the debate.  Liberals, for so long used as a swear word in debates, can now speak again, and proclaim their liberalness.

Banks, for so long able to do what they wanted, have started to act like “fairness” is a virtue.  Webster Bank the other day ran an ad here that said, “We wouldn’t charge you an extra fee — like some other banks — (wink, wink, nod, nod… Bank of America) because that wouldn’t be fair“.  This is the same bank that has charged us overdraft fees in such a way as to collect the most money for the fewest transactions for years. Now they think such things might be unfair. Now fairness counts. Now “fairness” is popular.

Republican candidates, still arguing in the debates over who is the most conservative\capitalist\patriot among them are falling on deaf ears. Now, we wonder if  Conservatism = Capitalism=Patriotism. Democrats who still use the same equation are also falling on deaf ears, because there is another equation: Speaking Out=Democracy=Patriotism which is vying for the airwaves.  Even “Joe the Plumber”, a conservative icon, is now saying “They are not all communists. Many of them (at Occupy) are just plain disgruntled Americans. I support the disgruntled Americans part.”

Fox News, which has controlled the news and the debate for so long, now is being told by protesters “Fox lies”.  One of those sides has millions of dollars, hundreds of TV and radio stations, and lobbyists in Washington donating to politicians campaigns. The other has power. Go figure — democracy by the 99% has begun to challenge “Patriotism” by the 1%.  Even charges of “class warfare” from candidates using “spin doctor” techniques and sound-bites simply fall to the floor.

If we look at my post of a while ago, “Some Demands”, there has been some movement on them. Recently, two senators proposed a Constitutional Amendment repealing the Citizen’s United decision which said, “Corporations have the same rights as people”. This was one of my “demands”.  I also complained about fees on debit cards, and B of A has taken back their fee. The people occupying Wall Street, and our consciousness now, have started reminding us that “those who have the gold don’t make the rules”, which was my first demand, if I had had a movement. In short, since I don’t speak for them, they speak for me. They give my voice amplification, even if they-don’t-know-me-from a-whole-in-the-ground.  I suspect that they give other people’s voices amplification as well.

As the winter storms continue, I had the image of Valley Forge stuck in my head: patriots freezing in the snow, choosing to do so because an idea of a government “of the people, by the people, and for the people” stayed in their hearts and called them to do what they feel is right. Yes, by the way, I know it’s an anachronistic image (Lincoln’s words with Washington’s troops), but the possibility of a new generation thinking about each other as patriots would be a welcome sight, even as it takes in the whole scope of American history. Of course, there is no way to know if they will Occupy through the winter, but it was a fascinating mental image and one I would support.

So, for now, here’s to Occupy Wall Street and it’s brothers and sisters around the country.  For people who haven’t done anything, they’ve sure done a lot.

 

Peace,

 

John

 

God’s Trifecta: Benny, Newt, and Charlie

Hebrews 12: 1-3 Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, 2 fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3 Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”

Today, Oct 27th, 2011 at around 1:30pm I received a phone call from my friend John Odams that my friend Charlie Crook had died. I’m 51 and I think Charlie was my age or younger. This was not supposed to happen. 50 year old men don’t die, or they’re not supposed to, anyway. My age cohort has got a long way to go before they’re all dead — something like 20 or 30 years or more, but Charlie is the third of my pastor friends to die young deaths, and his is the hardest so far, because it hits so close to home. Charlie was, without a doubt my best friend at seminary. Charlie “got” me in a way that no one else did — he was from a tough mill town in Massachusetts — New Bedford, while I was grew up in another mill town in Massachusetts (Chicopee). Charlie was good, but shy kid, as was I. Charlie was poor growing up. So was I. Charlie was sort of a nerd who knew criminals as an accepted part of life. So was I. Charlie and I both felt at home in the “dive” bars in Boston when we had a night on the town — not because either of us frequented bars at home, but because The Punter’s Pub looked just like every bar back home, and the prices were the same, so we could afford it. Both of us were the first generation in our families to go to college, and the first to go to Graduate School — seminary. We were in the same field-education group in seminary. When I could no longer run the Prayer Group I had started 3 years before on a whim, Charlie was the man I wanted running it when I knew what I was doing.

Of course, we were different in many ways, as well — he a Baptist, me in the UCC, He was “conservative” and I was “liberal”. He saw Jesus first as “Savior”, but had trouble with the “Lord” part. I had no trouble with the “Lord” part, but couldn’t understand what I needed to be “saved” from while in seminary. We had different views on homosexuality, but I think he would have liked to have held my opinion. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the concept biblically. Charlie, being a Baptist and all, knew the Bible really well before seminary. I, being in the UCC, had heard it was a great book before seminary.

Virginia Satir said, “We bond in our differences, and grow in our differences”. With Charile as a best friend, I both bonded and grew in seminary. Without Charlie, I wouldn’t have survived seminary, I’m pretty sure.

This is what comes to mind today about Charlie. There are so many experiences that I haven’t talked about because I’m still in shock, and have so much grieving to do that it’ll take years to get over this.

But, as I said, Charlie is the third pastoral friend to die, and his death brought back memories of my other two friends — Benny Claytor of Bridgeport and Newton Perrins of the Albany-area in New York. As I knew I’d write to process tonight, I thought about what they had in common and the answer is… very little. Oddly, they were all good at … math. Benny was an engineer for years in his day job. Newt was an environmental scientist prior to seminary, and Charlie had studied to be an accountant. Other than that and a call to professional ministry, they couldn’t be more different.

God’s love of diversity — and recognition of His (that’s the “Charlie” in me coming through) need for it to get the message across — is represented by the three of them. The grieving for them reaches across three different groups of Christians and three loving families.

Benny died first, of a heart attack, I think. Benny was slick, shiny in style and loud in the pulpit. When he got on a roll on a Sunday morning, there was no stopping him. He was everything you’d expect from an inner-city African-American pastor in the pulpit, and so much more out of it. First off, Benny had a whole other life — as an Engineer at Perkin-Elmer. Benny was a loving family man who adored both of his daughters — one who worked with him at Perkin-Elmer, and one who lived with him in the parsonage while I knew him. Both girls went to college and he gushed about them both, while laughing and grinning in love at his wife, Gerry. He had a great sense of humor and he was brave in ways that no one saw. When this new White guy showed up at meeting of the Black clergy group twenty years ago, Benny had no reason to trust me. Others in the clergy group were distrustful, but warmed up over time. I don’t know if Benny was mistrustful or if he thought I was out of my mind, but we became great friends quickly. Over the course of time, he probably thought I was out more and more out of my mind, but he was always game for anything I came up with. He was a friendly, humorous, loving family man who always had a glint in his eye and a smile, no matter how exhausted he must have been. I could never have been him, as I just don’t have that kind of physical stamina, or the ability to always smile while the world is horrible around me. Benny grieved and loved and still managed to take it all in stride. He ran the good race, fought the good fight, and never looked the worse for wear. I miss him to this day and manage to keep in touch with his wife, Prophetess Gerry Claytor, who I also think the world of.

Newt Perrins died next, probably five or ten years ago. As stylish and aware of fashion as Benny was, Newt wasn’t. Actually, Newt was aware of fashion and style, he just didn’t care for it. He was intentionally out of fashion. He liked the kind of clothes that were always appropriate — LLBean-type things that lasted forever. Where Benny was at home in the city and loved being with people, Newt was at home in the woods, fixing the remnants of a Saab, watching Monty Python with his family or listening to Garrison Keillor in the middle of nowhere. He liked the small church. He liked the quiet of the snow. He liked people with really deep problems and he loved being an EMT. He probably worked as hard as Benny did, but in very , very different way. He left behind a good woman and social worker, Val, and two great, funny sons who got me a bound comic book for my wedding gift. It was perfect and they knew it. Val was as good a wife for Newt as Gerry was for Benny.

Charlie never, as far as I knew, never found a love in his life that would last forever. He was a man who liked his own space — unless you were a parishioner or a close, close friend. In that case, you probably knew more and more of him. He was a great, friendly, caring person — as long as he could go home at the end of it.

His folk guitar pulled him into the spotlight and allowed him to show his creative feelings — and he had quite a creative side. A great story-teller and a voracious reader, he was as humble — and as humorous — as a nerdy guy could be. His family owned the warmest place in his heart. His parishioners ran a close second.

A trifecta is a the first three winners in a horse race. Someone who knows all three in advance is very, very lucky and their lives end up much richer. The horses, each different than the other, run the race long and harder than others and get to the winner’s circle first. I can think of no better metaphor for the three pastors that God called and I was lucky enough to know before the end of their race to the ultimate finish line.

Peace,

John