They were so sophisticated,
had the best opera, symphony, art galleries in the world
but there were more than enough frustrated,
disgruntled, angry Germans
more than willing to become haters and scapegoaters and killers.
Our culture might not be quite as sophisticated as that
but we think we are beyond the best, exceptional even,
and yet there are approximately forty million
frustrated, disgruntled, angry, fearful haters
and scapegoaters on
the way to becoming killers,
fools and fodder for fascism.
Be aware; stay alert.

Like with everything else,
the question has to be asked,

“What does this have to tell us?”
and the next question is,

“Where does this stand
when viewed through the

lens of compassion, mercy,
justice, peace and self-

sacrificial love?” and if
the answer on the

continuum from zero in
common to one-hundred-

percent, isn’t very good,
well, that then gives rise

to the third question,
“So, what are we going

to do about it?” And
finally an answer: in keeping

with the lens, non-
violent resistance. Which

then gives rise to more
questions: where? when?

Two words: here, now
for here and now encompass

there, then — with a turn of
the head and a glance

backward and forward:
here, now — contemplate,

participate — eternally.

If they came for us in the night
would we go? If we went,
where would we go?
Would we go to cages
like little ones torn
from their mother’s
side? If we didn’t go,
where would we hide?
They would prevail, of course,
those who sought to take
us away. Would we have
the inner strength of Jesus
who let them have
their say
but remained calm
in the face of such
cruelty and hate?
We would die, but
like Jesus, our
spiritual bodies would be
a witness to
the victory
and true power
of God’s eternal love.
I can only pray
when they take us away,
that it is no longer I who
live but Christ in me,
for what is impossible for
me, Lord, is possible for
Thee.
Until that day,
if it is to be,
we will nonviolently protest.
I pray I will put my
trust in Thee.
We shall see.

the day dawned coolly…
the humidity headed southernly…
the breeze moved gently…
the trees swayed rhythmically…
the wind chime rang melodically…
the sun smiled happily…
the people breathed deeply…
the children laughed loudly…
the dog snored peacefully….

Some fiend told him to do it
and he did it. He separated
three thousand children from

their parents at the border.
He was told that this would
be good for his poll numbers

with his base. He liked that.
And now three thousand
children are still separated

from their parents with no
plan to reunite them and the
president is on to some other

chaotic endeavor because
he really doesn’t care about
the three thousand children

or their parents; in fact, he
may not even recall the order
to separate the children from

their parents. He just wants
all of us to know that he is a
great writer who has written

several books while his first
ghost writer says that he
doesn’t even read let alone

write anything let alone a
book. Forget the books.
He is on to another deal.

Bring on the next deal.
What was the last deal?
Will someone in the White

House tell me what was
my last deal? Of course,
the children. They love me.

Every year, month, day, hour, minute,
second, nano-second there is something
outrageous going on in our federal ad-
ministration and that is exactly what
the (p)-resident of the United States
wants to keep everybody completely off
kilter and in chaos which leaves us
reeling and him in charge, like an abused
child in a totally dysfunctional home,
who is mis-identified as the problem
except that, in this case, he really is
that, local, regional, national, inter-
national, super big, dysfunctional problem
without even bothering to look into the
Trump family super-big-dysfunctional
history.

So, it’s the Fourth of
July and I’m upset about
who the devil is our
president and it’s hot
as hell in the upper
midwest (85 in the shade),
day after day and this
spring we were so deluged
with rain storms that I
thought about buying a lot
of lumber and getting boat
designs and now we have
put in seven really tall
Norway Spruces and, of course,
it turns into the Sahara Desert
and our water bill will
skyrocket (not to mention
all the water being used)
and all our friends are e-
mailing about the dangers
of global warming and
I put together the new,
small, infrared grill
and we don’t even know
what infrared is and we
worry that we bought some-
thing that will add to
global warming and my wife
hands me a vodka and we
sit thinking that we will
have to find a way to shield
our new, adopted, six-year-
old Chocolate Lab’s ears
(I go to hunt for earmuffs)
from the fireworks that will
start any minute with debris
falling into the Big Lake causing
more water pollution and all
I can think to say is “oy veh,”
and I’m not even Jewish.

The Realm of the Devil is having someone
precious torn from you and agonizing
over whether or not you would ever be
reunited with the precious one.

The Realm of God is like losing someone
precious, thinking you would never find
the precious one again and then being
reunited with your precious one.

*idea from a writing by Frederick Buechner

The young lady sitting next to us at the bar
ordered a rose wine. I asked her about it.
She said it was dry. The conversation took

off from there. We discussed our common
alma mater and how this department was
progressive and that was not and one had

to be careful in choosing. Turns out I am a
friend of her minister grandfather, a legend
of progressive causes and suffering grievously

the consequences of living in a conservative
area. I told her a couple of humorous stories
about her grandfather’s travails. We laughed

and then we bemoaned the sorry state of
affairs in America today due to the present
federal administration. My wife and I bought

the glass of dry rose for her. We hugged; she
left. The old, white curmudgeon sitting a few
seats down the bar was finishing his prime

rib dinner and I wanted to tell him a great
story about a friend who ate prime rib in
a fancy downtown steak restaurant in

Chicago and how it didn’t compare to that
served at the local restaurant for half
the price. I asked if I could tell him

a cute, quick story. He told me to get
lost and that he had heard my conversation
with the young woman. I slapped him on

the back saying, “God bless you, brother.
We are all just doing the Jesus work.”
He almost choked on the last piece.

When did money become so powerful,
such an aphrodisiac, something our
souls continually lust after? Was it
when Calvin gave the go ahead for
money to make money and we jumped
out of feudal society into the modern
capitalistic society? No, it had to
be before that. Shall we venture back
to the Golden Calf? Isn’t there some
ancient truth about not being able
to serve God and mammon/wealth?
So we just moved God over and made
the pursuit of wealth our god and we
have been worshiping the greenback
ever since, but it is just metal and
paper. Why do we love it so? Because
it can get us what we want? With
enough we can get stuff. But it’s not
the stuff we love is it? It’s just having
more and more and more of our god
because then we are the gods but now
we find that there are just a very few
gods, the vulture gods, who have almost
all the money and they still want more
and more and more and we lost our love
and now owe the bank what we love and
have lost and will never get it back.
And so the vulture gods lust and lust
and lust and we borrow, borrow, borrow
and lustful souls never rest and when
will we learn that we cannot serve God
and wealth? When will we learn that in
striving to own it all, we will lose our
souls? When will we learn that our
lust for the paper idol has brought us
to the pits of hell where only Satan is
god? When will we learn that “Thou hast
made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart
is restless until it finds its rest in thee” —
in your compassion, justice, mercy and
self-sacrificial love? When will we learn
that in giving up our lives for the sake of
others and their welfare as we see in Jesus
that we will gain our true selves and you, God?