Readings for the 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time: 2 KGS 5: 14-17; PS 98: 1-4; 2 TM 2: 8-13; 1 THES 5:18; LK 17: 11-19
On October 4th, President Trump
signed a proclamation denying visas to immigrants who can’t afford to purchase
health insurance within 30 days of their arrival to the United States. The new
restrictions are scheduled to be implemented on November 3. They will also
exclude immigrants from subsidies under the Affordable Care Act.
In its proclamation, the White House said it was taking this step to safeguard the health-care system for American citizens by preventing immigrants from enrolling in Medicaid or going to emergency rooms with no insurance, requiring hospitals or taxpayers to cover the cost.
“President Trump has taken action to promote immigrant self-sufficiency, which has long been a fundamental aspect of our immigration system,” the proclamation said.
In other words, (and listen for the irony here) the uber-rich president’s action is directed against poor people and is designed to save money for a revenue base recently depleted by tax breaks principally benefitting the richest people in the most affluent country in the world.
It’s
simply another onslaught in Trump’s war of rich against poor.
Today’s
liturgy of the word shows that the new proclamation is not only ironic, it also
stands in sharp contradiction to the Judeo-Christian tradition and its emphasis
on gratuitous healing.
I mean, this week’s readings seem providentially related to the issue of healthcare not only for resident aliens, but for explicit enemies of the state. The selections have two prophets (Elisha in the case of the Jewish Testament) and Jesus (in its Christian extension) curing foreign lepers. In Elisha’s case, the beneficiary of his cure is a general in an enemy army (Assyria) actually at war with Israel. That would be like Americans extending care to a notorious terrorist.
Additionally, the readings connect with current debate about Medicare for All by suggesting the inappropriateness of charging money for healing which is understood as a gift from God. As such, the readings intimate, it should be available to all humans with no distinctions about race, class, or gender.
Please read the texts in question here. What follows is my own “translation” of their unusually coherent message about foreigners and healthcare.
2 KGS 5: 14-17
During Assyria’s war on Israel, Naaman, an enemy general, Was cured of leprosy By Israel’s prophet, Elisha. The general offered A valuable gift In exchange. But Elisha refused To profit from God’s healing. Such salvation Is as free as earth itself, He implied. It is entirely fungible To entirely Fungible people.
PS 98: 1-4
So, let’s sing Of God’s healing (salvation). On behalf of Israel It manifests God’s favor to non-Jews too Causing the whole earth To break out in song.
2 TM 2: 8-13
Jesus the Risen Christ Endorsed Paul’s teaching About the equality Of Jews, Greeks, Slaves and free, Male and female Prisoners and criminals. Jesus identifies with all, Paul said. Every one of them Is “chosen.” God cannot deny God’s generous Self.
1 THES 5:18 We are so grateful For this wonderful teaching!
LK 17: 11-19
Like Elisha, Jesus cured leprosy This time In a gang of 10 – Including a Samaritan An enemy of the people Just like Naaman. It was Healing For nothing Except for the outsider's Singular word of thanks Which healed him Totally. [No doubt The ungrateful ones Remained (partially) healed As well.]
Not much needs to be added to the teachings so clearly embedded
in today’s readings.
They’re about curing a culture’s most dreaded disease. They’re
about foreigners and a divine dispensation that recognizes no one as somehow “foreign”
or to be “shunned.” That’s true even if they represent a designated enemy of
the state or adherents to a religion considered intrinsically evil by
prevailing community standards.
As usual, then, and in other words, this week’s readings
challenge our most cherished certainties. They call us to open ourselves to the
poor, to foreigners, and even to those we’re taught to fear and hate.
They call us to denounce and resist Trumpian “proclamations” like the recent one punishing immigrants and refugees for their poverty and accidents of birth over which they have no control, but which especially endear them to the Author of Life.
Last Sunday, we had yet another baptism in our family — this one of our new grandson, Sebastian Nels. And what a beautiful event it was!
Our daughter, Maggie (Sebastian’s mother) was the MC. Sebastian’s godmothers were outstanding. One, Eden Werring, gave a beautifully sung Jewish blessing; the other, Claudine Maidique read the Gibran classic “On Children.” Rob Silvan, the music minister at our new church here in Connecticut (Talmadge Hill Community Church) led us in singing “Down to the River” (from “O, Brother, Where Art Thou”), “Swimming to the Other Side,” “The Prayer of St. Francis, and “This Little Light of Mine.”
Our son, Patrick, was here with his lovely girlfriend, Michelle. And later, we all retired to Maggie’s beautiful home here in Westport for the after-party. It featured a bluegrass band, a hot-dog food truck, and lots of good conversation and laughter. What fun!
As I remarked to Maggie, it was all perfect in its imperfection. The star of the event, however, was little Sebastian Nels. I’ve never seen a more tranquil baby. His quiet demeanor made the remarks I share below (my homily on the occasion) even more relevant. Please allow me share them with you. To begin with here are the readings:
LK 3: 21-22: When all the people were being baptized, Jesus was baptized too. And as he was praying, heaven was opened 22 and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”
LK 3:21-22: So, in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, 27 for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. 28 There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. 29 If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.
MK 10: 13-16: 13 People were bringing little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them, but the disciples rebuked them. 14 When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. 15 Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” 16 And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.
And here is the homily:
“Sebastian’s First Sermon”
Here we are yet again, gathered for yet another baptism.
Having done this with Eva, Oscar, Orlando, and Markandeya, it’s now Sebastian’s
turn. These experiences are always so memorable.
Of course, Sebastian knows nothing of why we’re doing this. After all, as my good friend, Guy Patrick (also a former priest), reminds us, religion really isn’t for children, much less for babies. It’s an adult thing. And when children express boredom or rebellion against going to church or religious practice, we should patiently tell them, “Don’t worry, if you’re lucky, you’ll one day ‘get it,’ maybe when you grow up. And if you don’t get it then, perhaps you will in some other life.” (At least, that’s what Guy says. I think he’s right. He usually is about these things.)
So, what’s here for adults to “get”? Today’s readings and
that beautiful song, “Swimming to the Other Side,” suggest an answer. Baptism,
they tell us, is about personal transformation. It’s about navigating from the world’s
way of thinking to God’s way, which lies on the other side of the Jordan, where
Jesus himself was baptized. It’s about swimming against the world’s current to
what Jesus called the “Kingdom of God.” God’s way of thinking is 180 degrees
opposed to that of the world. It’s the very definition of “the other side.”
Think about Jesus’ own baptism. As a 30-something adult, he has
evidently reached a decision point about the direction of his life. As a
disciple of John, he’s seeking a new course; he wants to “swim to the other
side.” So, like so many others (Luke tells us “all the people” were being
baptized) he presents himself for a rite of conversion performed by John the
Baptist whom Luke describes as completely counter-cultural in his dress, diet,
and way of speaking. [Jesus will later describe him as the greatest person who
has ever lived (MT 11:11).]
Anyway, Jesus goes down to the Jordan River, is pushed
beneath the water, and emerges with a new vocation. He hears a voice that tells
him “You are my beloved Son.” Evidently puzzled by that revelation, the next
thing he does is to go out into the desert to discover what those words might
mean.
He’s on a vision quest. And there, in the desert’s heat and cold, in the company of wild beasts and scorpions, the visions come to him. Fevered from 40 days of starvation and thirst, he sees angels, devils, and fantastic possible futures. He imagines stones as bread. He’s taken to a mountain, and to the pinnacle of the temple. The thought of suicide crosses his mind. He’s shown all the kingdoms of the world. He’s presented with unlimited possibilities.
In all of this, his question is the same as ours. Which will
he choose? Will it be the world’s ways of pleasure, power, profit, and
prestige? Or will he instead swim against the current and live out his identity
as God’s beloved son?
We all know Jesus’ decision. He chose poverty over wealth,
non-violence over violence, and identification with the poor, oppressed,
tortured and victims of capital punishment. Those were his decisions. They’re
what his followers claim commitment to.
What a challenge to us!
Sebastian, quite naturally, understands none of that.
But that doesn’t mean that he’s disconnected from Jesus’
vision quest or that his role here is entirely passive. Quite the contrary. By
merely acting like a baby, Sebastian is preaching a sermon – his first one.
He’s reminding us of what Jesus discovered in the desert. He’s showing us who
we are as we come from the hand of God. He’s reminding us of what’s important
in life. And it’s not what the world says.
It’s not borders or of being American. Sebastian knows
nothing of such things – nothing of male privilege, or white privilege, of war,
lust, politics, or the power of money.
What he does know is love. He knows that he’s
entitled to food and warmth, to the simplest of clothing. He’s aware of his entitlement
to care from his mother, father, siblings, grandparents, and from all those
strangers who are constantly fawning over him, picking him up, and making all
those strange happy sounds. In our adult language, we’d call all of those human
rights.
Yes, by simply being a baby, Sebastian is preaching us a
sermon. He’s saying, “Be like me.
Set aside what the world values, because those values are categorically
opposed to life as those closest to its origins experience it. Swim against the
current. Swim to the other side to what Jesus called the God’s Kingdom. At your
deepest level, live the consciousness I experience and exemplify.” Become as
little children – or as St. Paul puts it: live in a world uncontaminated by
race, class, or sexual orientation. In God’s world, Paul says, there is
“neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female.”
Of course, we don’t know if any of this will stick for
Sebastian. We don’t know if in this lifetime he’ll choose to follow Jesus’
teachings. We pray that he will. But at this moment – before he forgets – his silence couldn’t be more eloquent in
reminding us of the nature of life as it comes from the hands of God!
This is his first sermon. Let’s all take it all
in, remember it, – and now get on with his baptism.
Last week’s homily on “Dives and Lazarus” evoked an interesting comment from one of the most faithful and thoughtful readers of this blog. The point of address was a statement in my related reflections on liberation theology, viz. that in the biblical tradition “God passes from being a neutral observer of earth’s injustices to an active participant with the poor as they struggle for justice here on earth.”
In response, the reader commented, “The disheartening truth is
that I see no evidence of this ever having been the case in the literal sense.
Metaphorically, yes, and in prophetic but unfulfilled texts, but I fail to see
even one concrete example. The rich and the poor seem to be equal in that both
will have to wait for some nebulous afterlife to receive their reward.
Meanwhile, the rich, proverbially, get richer.”
The comment is providentially related to this Sunday’s
readings, which address the question of unanswered prayers and the frustration
of those who look for evidence of God’s presence in the world and find none.
Before I get to that, however, let me respond directly to what the reader said.
To begin with, I agree with his comment in that:
It is often “disheartening” to
look for God’s intervention on behalf of the poor (or any of us for that matter)
and to see none.
No one will see or ever has seen
“literal,” “concrete,” and undeniable evidence of such intervention.
So, in relation to faith and
speech about God, metaphor used by “seers” (i.e. prophets gifted with capacity
to see what’s opaque to the rest of us) is all we have.
Contrary to biblical tradition,
our inherited, domesticated religious culture insists that the rich and poor
are equal in God’s eyes and that we must endure obscene wealth disparities till
after death.
As a result, wealth disparities
flourish; the rich get richer.
So, relative to such observations and according to liberation theologians, what do the seers (those who can see beyond the shadows in our “Plato’s Cave”) tell us about God’s siding with the poor? Just this:
God is Love and has established a loving order with room for everyone. This loving order of Universal Intelligence represents the larger, unchanging dispensation in which we live and move and have our being. It is the world as God created it.
Throughout history, human structures (familial, economic, social, political, etc.) have been set up by the rich and powerful in opposition to the divine order. This is the origin of race-consciousness, nations, borders, latifundial holdings, slavery, poverty and wars. None of these represent the world as it comes from the hand of God, where the world belongs to everyone.
The spokespersons for that other world are the “prophets” who have always been among us pointing out the in-breaking of the Love that is always there (e.g. Krishna, the Buddha, Jesus, Mohammed, Marx, Gandhi, King, Greta Thunberg . . .) Uniformly, they point out the opposition between the order of Universal Intelligence and the “wisdom of the world;” they indicate where Love is manifesting Itself; they invite the rest of us to “see” and to align with Love’s order.
Those who listen to the prophets are the indispensable agents of Universal Intelligence for the “salvation” of humanity from the inevitable destructive results of the world’s “wisdom.” They are everywhere for those with eyes to see.
In the end, however, Love’s order will prevail regardless of human activity; it alone is Real; the rest is illusion and doomed to pass.
With that in mind, please turn your attention to today’s liturgy of the word. You can find the readings here. In the meantime, what follows are my “translations.” As you’ll see, they directly address unanswered prayers and Love’s order as decreed by Universal Intelligence.
HAB 1: 2-3; 2:2-4
I’ve been praying Dear God, For your Kingdom to come, For violence to cease For relief from our misery. Yet you seem deaf To my pleas. After all, Wars continue Violence increases Everyone’s at Each other’s throat. What should I think?
Only this: (And write it in stone!) My timetable, My order Is vastly different From yours. What’s invisible, What seems delay to you Is always there And perfectly timely for me. So, be patient Keep your commitment To my just order. My answer to prayer Is never late. It’s omnipresent.
PS 95: 1-2, 6-7, 8-9
I have heard your response, Dear God I’m thankful and happy For the reminder. Your words Are solid as rock. It’s true: You know far more Than us. You have never Let us down. I will therefore not ever Lose faith Against your Proven fidelity.
2 TM 1: 6-8, 13-14
Such words of response Are wise. They are the expression Of a Holy Spirit, Within us all. It can set The world ablaze With love. It is courageous And disciplined, It expresses the Strength of God. It enables us To endure even prison And hardships Of all kinds. It is the very Spirit Of Jesus, the Christ.
1 PT 1:25
We’re happy to say that We share Such enduring faith With sisters and brothers Past and present. What joy to live In such holy company!
LK 17: 5-10
When Jesus’ followers Prayed for stronger faith, He reminded them That even a little bit Can change Expectations profoundly. Never forget, he said, That you are not in charge; Love is. You are only Love’s servants. God is not Your errand boy Beholden to Culturally-shaped Plans and needs.
With those readings in mind, i.e. when we allow God’s word
to open our eyes and ears, when we listen to the prophets (God’s
spokespersons), we see concrete manifestations of God’s presence and siding
with the poor everywhere. Right now, they’re evident, I think, in:
Nature Itself: Regardless of human efforts to obscure and deny the divine, its presence calls constantly to us in events so close to us and taken-for-granted that they’ve become invisible. I’m thinking about the sun, the ocean, trees, the moon, stars, wild flowers – and our own bodies whose intelligence performs unbelievable feats each moment of our lives.
Liberation Theology: This rediscovery of God’s preferential option for the poor has changed and is changing the world. One cannot explain the pink tide that swept Latin America during the 1970s, ‘80s, and 90s – not Brazil, Argentina, Nicaragua, Venezuela – without highlighting the inspiration provided by liberation theology. Neither can one explain the rebellion of the Muslim world against western imperialism without confronting Islam’s inherent liberating drive – again on behalf of the disenfranchised, impoverished, and imperialized.
Contemporary Social Movements: Think Occupy, Black Lives Matter, the Sunrise Movement, Yellow Vests, Standing Rock, the Green New Deal, and prophetic figures like (once again) Greta Thunberg, Naomi Klein, Bill McKibben, and Pope Francis with his landmark climate encyclical Laudato si’ . All of these movements and figures stand on the side of the poor and are having their effect.
Marianne Williamson’s Campaign: Of all the current candidates for president, Marianne Williamson most articulately and faithfully bases her “politics of love” on the five prophetic insights referenced above. The mere fact that she is actually running for president signals an actual and potential awakening of American consciousness far beyond what’s (thankfully) portended even in the candidacies of Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren.
Martin Luther King once famously said that the moral arc of the universe is long, but that it bends towards justice. “Justice” in his vocabulary meant overcoming the laws and social structures crafted by the rich and powerful to keep the poor in their place. King (and Malcolm as well) was a practitioner of African-American liberation theology. As such, he was gifted with eyes to see differently — to see the Judeo-Christian tradition as revealing a God on the side of the poor.
That’s what our Sunday liturgies of the word reveal consistently. This week is no exception. It invites us to open our eyes.
Readings for the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time: AM 6: 1A, 4-7; PS 146: 7-10; I TM 6: 11-16; LK 16: 19-31
Today’s liturgy of the
word provides us with a virtual catechism of liberation theology – Christianity’s most
important theological development in the last 1500 years, and the West’s most
important social movement of the last 150 years.
I have come to those
conclusions over a period of more than forty years studying liberation
theology. My interest began in Rome during my graduate studies there, 1967
through 1972. There I first heard Peru’s Gustavo Gutierrez speak. (Fr. Gutierrez is
considered the father of liberation theology.)
Subsequently I read Gutierrez’s book, A Theology of Liberation (1971) and was completely taken by it. Reading the book gave me the feeling that I was hearing Jesus’ Gospel for the very first time.
You might ask, what is liberation theology? To answer that question fully, please look at my blog entries under the “liberation theology” button. I’ve written a series on the question. In my blogs, you’ll find that I always define it in a single sentence. Liberation theology is reflection on the following of Christ from the viewpoint of the world’s poor and oppressed. That’s the class of people to which Jesus himself belonged. They constituted the majority of his first followers.
When
read from their viewpoint, accounts of Jesus’ words and deeds – the entire
Bible for that matter – take on depths of meaning and relevance to our
contemporary world that are otherwise inaccessible to people like us who live
in the heart of the wealthy world. From the viewpoint of the poor, God passes
from being a neutral observer of earth’s injustices to an active participant
with the poor as they struggle for justice here on earth. Jesus becomes the
personification of that divine commitment to the oppressed. After all, he was poor
and oppressed himself. The Roman Empire and its Temple priest collaborators saw
to that.
My interest in liberation theology deepened as my teaching career developed at Berea College in Kentucky from 1974 to 2010. There I was encouraged to continue my study of liberation theology. So, I spent extended periods in Brazil, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Honduras, Guatemala, Cuba, Mexico, Zimbabwe, South Africa, India and elsewhere studying under liberation theologians, dialoging and publishing with them. The poor in all of those countries were suffering from the aggression the United States directed against them.
Meanwhile
at Berea, I found the conclusions of liberation theologians validated by the
college’s very fine scripture scholars. They had almost no acquaintance with
liberation theology, and yet what they were teaching perfectly harmonized with
its central tenets. It’s just that they stopped short of drawing what seemed to
me the obvious political conclusions from their work.
More
specifically, Berea’s scholars identified the Exodus (Yahweh’s liberation of
slaves from Egypt) as God’s original and paradigmatic revelation. The whole
tradition began there, not in the Garden of Eden. Moreover, the Jewish
prophetic tradition emphasized what we now call “social justice.” Even more,
Jesus of Nazareth appeared in the prophetic tradition, not as a priest or king.
Jesus directed his “ministry” to the poor and outcasts. The Gospel of Luke (4:
18-19) has Jesus describing his program in the following words:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon
me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me
to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let
the oppressed go free, and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
After
his death, Jesus’ followers continued along those lines. They lived communally,
having sold all their worldly possessions and distributed the proceeds to the
poor.
All of that finds vivid expression in today’s liturgy of the word. As I said, it’s a kind of catechism of liberation theology. The reading from Amos the prophet describes the sin that most offends God – wealth disparity in the face of extreme poverty. Amos decries a “wanton revelry” on the part of the wealthy that sounds like the “American Way of Life” or the “Lives of the Rich and Famous” that we Americans find so fascinating.
The prophet describes a rich class that lives like King David himself – in luxurious houses, overeating, drinking wine by the bowlful, and generally ignoring “the collapse of Joseph,” i.e. the poverty of their country’s most destitute. For that, Amos says, the rich will ultimately suffer. All their wealth will be confiscated and they will be driven into shameful exile.
In
railing against the rich and defending the poor, Amos was calling Judah back to
the worship of Yahweh whose attributes are described in today’s responsorial
psalm. There God is depicted as loving the just and thwarting the ways of the
wicked. The psalm describes Yahweh as securing justice for the oppressed,
giving food to the hungry, and setting captives free. He gives sight to the
blind and protects resident aliens, single mothers and their children.
Then today’s excerpt from
1st Timothy outlines the characteristics of those who worship that God by following
in Jesus’ footsteps. They keep the commandment which
is to do unto others as we would have them do unto us.
According to St. Paul,
that means pursuing justice and living with devotion, faith, love, patience,
and gentleness.
Finally,
the gospel selection from Luke chapter 16 dramatizes the sinful relationship
between rich and poor and the destinies awaiting both. Luke tells the story of
the rich man and “St. Lazarus” who is honored by the poor throughout Latin
America.
It is
significant that Lazarus is given a name in Jesus’ parable. Usually we know the
names of the rich, while it is the poor that remain anonymous. Here matters are
reversed. To remedy this anomaly, tradition has assigned the wealthy man a
name. He’s called Dives, which is simply the Latin word for rich man.
For his
part, Lazarus is quintessentially poor, hungry, and lacking medical care. His
sores are open and the only attention they receive are from dogs that lick his
wounds. Meanwhile, Dives seems completely unaware of Lazarus’ presence, though
the beggar is standing at his very doorstep. Within the sight of Lazarus, the
wealthy one stuffs himself with food to such a degree that the scraps falling
from his table would be enough to nourish the poor beggar. But not even those
crumbs are shared. How could Dives share? He doesn’t even know that Lazarus
exists.
So, the
two men die, and things are evened out. The rich man goes to hell. We’re not
told why. Within the limits of the story, it seems simply for the crime of
being rich and unconsciously blind to the presence of the poor. For his part,
Lazarus goes to the “bosom of Abraham,” the original Hebrew patriarch.
Lazarus
is rewarded. Again, we’re not told why. Within the story, it seems simply
because he was poor and Yahweh is partial to the poor, just as he was to the
slaves God intervened to save when they were starving in Egypt.
Seated
with Abraham, Lazarus feasts and feasts at the eternal banquet hungry people
imagine heaven to be. Dives however is consumed by flame in the afterlife. Fire,
of course, is the traditional symbol of God’s presence, or purification, and of
punishment. This seems to suggest that after death, both Dives and Lazarus find
themselves in the presence of God. However what Lazarus experiences as joyful,
Dives experiences as tormenting.
And
why? Simply, it seems, because Dives was rich, and Lazarus was poor.
Does
the parable tell us that what awaits us all after death is a reversal of the
economic conditions in which we now find ourselves? The first will be last; the
last first. The rich will be poor, and the poor will be rich. That in itself is
highly thought-provoking.
In any
case, Yahweh is presented as champion of the poor in this parable, just as in
the reading from Amos, in today’s responsorial psalm, and in Paul’s letter to
Timothy. And according to liberation theologians, that’s the central
characteristic of God throughout the Judeo-Christian tradition. God is on the
side of the poor and hates obscene wealth disparity.
You can well imagine how such insight inspired the poor and oppressed throughout the world when it emerged as “liberation theology” following the Second Vatican Council. Poor people everywhere (and especially in Latin America) took courage and were inspired to demand social justice from the rich who had been ignoring them in the New World since the arrival of Columbus 500 years earlier. In fact, Liberation theology motivated social movements more powerfully than any thought current since the publication of the Communist Manifesto in 1848.
And that’s why the
reigning empire, the United States of America took action against liberation
theology. It initiated what Noam
Chomsky calls “the first religious war of the 21st century.” It
was a war of the United States against the Catholic Church in Latin America –
yes against the Catholic Church. The war killed hundreds of thousands of
priests, nuns, lay catechists, social workers, union organizers, students,
teachers, and journalists along with ordinary farmers and workers.
Today’s
liturgy of the word reminds us not to let the United States have the final
word. We are called to divest ourselves of our wealth and to take notice of St.
Lazarus at our gates. God is on the side of the poor, not of the rich.
Here are my “translations” of the liturgical readings for the 26th Sunday in ordinary time. As we’ll see more explicitly in my Sunday Homily, they provide a virtual catechism of liberation theology, which I consider the most important theological development of the last 1500 years.
AM 6:1A, 4-7
The Spirt of Life informs us that: Complacent “religious” people Are in for a sad surprise. They might be enjoying Their “Sleep Number” mattresses And Lazy Boy chairs; While gorging on Wagyu Beef And meats No one else can afford; They might be attending A-list concerts And drinking Chateau Lafite While reeking of Chanel Grand Extrait. But the world’s on fire! And its flames will soon consume Even the decadent lifestyles Of the super-rich.
PS 146: 7, 8-9, 9-10
For the poor, There’s a certain Schadenfreude In all of this. For God’s future assures Downfall for the rich While promising Justice for the oppressed Rich food for those now hungry And liberation for the imprisoned. The obtuse will see, We’re told. The overworked Will be relieved. Immigrants and refugees Will be safe at last. Children born out of wed-lock And abandoned women Will finally know peace.
1 TM 6:11-16
So, be of good heart. Despite appearances, That golden future awaits Those who live like Jesus. He was so committed To the poor To justice, non-violence Patience and love That the imperialized world Could not stand it. Nevertheless, his powerful Christ-consciousness (That you btw have promised To live by) Will bring the world A completely new order And enlightenment beyond Our wildest imaginings.
2 COR 8:9
In fact, Jesus accomplished All of that By becoming a poor man Not a rich one So that we might know Where true wealth lies And live accordingly.
LK 16: 19-31
Jesus illustrates His meaning With the story (Told to the complacent believers) Of poor Lazarus Who often begged From a rich man. But soon had Dives Begging from him And experiencing The awful frustration Of unbridgeable gaps In consumption And in ability To communicate The desperation And torment, Of hunger and thirst Even if revealed By a ghost from the other side.
Readings for 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time: AM 8: 4-7; PS 113: 1-2, 4-6, 7-8; 1TM 2: 1-8; 2 COR 8:9;LK 16: 1-13
Last weekend, comedian, Bill Maher, and film-maker, Michael Moore, got into a shouting match on Maher’s show “Real Time.” Their point of contention was capitalism vs. socialism. Moore argued for socialism; Maher was against it. Their boisterousness reminded me of dinner-table arguments which (I’m ashamed to admit) I’ve been part of myself.
I bring all this up because the debate is intimately related to this morning’s liturgy of the word. Though the readings obviously pre-date the emergence of the modern system, they all criticize what has historically become “the spirit of capitalism.”
In any case, the Maher-Moore debate is worth considering not
only because it manifests the relevance of the Jesus tradition to arguments
like theirs. The argument also demonstrates the counter-productivity of the squabble
itself. It’s counter-productive because its terms fall into a trap congenial to
the enemies of the biblical tradition. The trap frames alternatives to our
present economic system in terms of “socialism” instead of in terms of social
justice, mixed economy, and “preferential option for the poor.”
That’s a simple distinction I never tire of making, because (as I point out in my book, The Magic Glasses of Critical Thinking: seeing through alternative fact and fake news) it’s absolutely key to the discussions of capitalism and socialism that will inevitably characterize the election season we’ve just entered – especially following the eventual selection of any Democratic candidate. No matter who the candidate turns out to be, s/he will be predictably vilified for advocating socialism pure and simple – an economic system that simply does not exist.
Maher and Moore both missed that point. The rest of us
shouldn’t. In fact, I recommend avoidance of capitalism-socialism framing
altogether. I’ll explain what I mean, and then elucidate the connections with
today’s readings.
To begin with, Moore’s mistake was to represent as “socialism” his advocacy of Medicare for all (Maher was against it), free college tuition, college loan-forgiveness, and the Green New Deal. In reality, those programs notwithstanding, each of them represents elements of mixed economies – the only form of economic organization that exists in our present context. And a mixed economy always has three elements (1) Some private and some public ownership of the means of production, (2) Some controlled markets and some that are free of control, and (3) earnings limited (usually by progressive income taxes).
Every economy in the world has those elements. There are no
exceptions.
Mixed economies contrast with the three elements of capitalism as well as with those of socialism. Capitalism’s three points are (1) Private ownership of the means of production, (2) Free and open markets, and (3) Unlimited earnings. None of the world’s economies embodies those elements untempered by planning.
Meanwhile, socialism’s three points are (1) Public ownership of the means of production, (2) Controlled markets, and (3) Limited earnings. Like untempered capitalism, such economic arrangement exists nowhere (including in “communist” China or Cuba).
For his part, Maher’s defense of capitalism was also a
defense of mixed economy. He agreed with many of Moore’s points. So, Maher’s
“capitalism” was no less mixed than Moore’s. The difference was that Maher
wanted more market and less planning in economic policy.
This is not to say that all mixed economies are equal. (And
this point is essential to keep in mind). The crucial question with them is
“Mixed in favor of whom?” Those who mistakenly identify themselves as
“capitalists” tend to advocate economies mixed in favor of the rich. They do so
on the belief that wealth trickles down; a rising tide lifts all boats, etc.
Those who (equally mistakenly) identify as “socialists” want
economies mixed more in favor of the working and unemployed classes. They
recognize that unregulated markets respond primarily to those with the most
money. Economies therefore have to be controlled to include those with limited
(or no) resources.
With all of this in mind, Moore and Maher might have
resolved their argument by recognizing that the choice before them is not
between capitalism or socialism, but between an economy mixed in favor of the
rich or one mixed in favor of the poor. And the formula for doing so might be: As
much market as possible, with as much regulation as necessary (to assure a
decent standard of living for everyone on the planet).
Now, a formula like that not only avoids “the socialist trap;” it is also highly compatible with the biblical social justice tradition that’s expressed so clearly in this morning’s liturgy of the word. As I’ve translated them below, today’s selections point out the injustices inherent not only in the economies of the ancient world, but in today’s neoliberal order. Both, the readings imply, were and are rigged in favor of the rich and against the poor. Check the readings for yourself here.
This is the way I interpret them:
AM 8: 4-7
Money makes the rich Exploit the poor. It leads the wealthy To distort religion Manipulate currency Put thumbs on scales Sell shoddy products And underpay workers. But never doubt: They will one day reap Due karma.
PS 113: 1-2, 4-6, 7-8
For God will lift up The poor From the dirt And “shitholes” They’re forced To live in. Thank God: The lowly Will one day Become their own Masters instead.
1 TM 2: 1-8
In the meantime, Pray that the powerful Might change their ways For God cares Even for them. Pray that they Might know God As revealed in The poor man Jesus who died For them too Despite their bitterness Lies and self-serving Talking points.
2 COR 8:9
Yes, don’t forget: God chose Self-revelation In the poor Not in the rich. Ironically, God’s Preferential Option For the Poor Is the only way To prosperity.
LK 16: 1-13
In fact, The poor man, Jesus, Laughed at the rich Who can’t use a shovel To save their lives, But blame the beggars Their own policies have created. The rich are so crooked, He joked, That they even admire Shrewdness in those Who end up stealing from them! Their own small larcenies Grow exponentially. So they cannot be trusted. Restitution is therefore in order. But don't worry About the bankers: Their “generous” loans Can easily be written off Without in the least Impacting their Decadent life-styles. Their basic mistake Is believing that Differentiating wealth and God Are somehow compatible. They are not!
Don’t you agree that sentiments like those favor economies
mixed in favor of the poor? (That’s the way they appear to me.) The readings
imply that if mixed economies are all we have, we shouldn’t allow ourselves to
fall into the trap that ensnared Moore and Maher. Instead of arguing about
non-existent “capitalism” or “socialism,” we should make sure to embrace the
principle “As much market as possible, but as much planning as necessary (to
insure a dignified life for all).”
But to avoid pointless shouting matches, it will be necessary to carry around in our minds those clear and easily understood ideas about what capitalism and socialism are. To repeat: capitalism’s essential elements are (1) private ownership of the means of production; (2) free and open markets, and (3) unlimited earnings. Socialism’s defining points are just the opposite: (1) public ownership of the means of production; (2) controlled markets, and (3) limited earnings. Once again, those two definitions make it clear that mixed economies are all we have.
Finally, we should be emphasizing the incompatibility between the Judeo-Christian tradition and the spirit of capitalism as characterized in today’s readings. Excessive wealth on the one hand and God on the other are not compatible. Or, as Jesus put it, “No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.”
Despite our culture’s claims to the contrary, that’s the faith we “People of The Book” (Jews, Muslims, and Christians) are called to embrace.
So, let me get this straight. Marianne Williamson should be
disqualified as a viable presidential candidate because she has too much faith
in the power of prayer, of mind, of love, and of God.
The disqualification was sparked by a tweet she made as
Hurricane Dorian was bearing down upon the southern coast of the United
States. It read: “The
Bahamas, Florida, Georgia and the Carolinas…may all be in our prayers now.
Millions of us seeing Dorian turn away from land is not a wacky idea; it is a
creative use of the power of the mind. Two minutes of prayer, visualization,
meditation for those in the way of the storm,”
It was a call to faith addressed to a nation where the majority considers itself followers of the one who said, “If you have faith, even as a mustard seed, and say to this mountain ‘move from here to there,’ it will obey you” (MT 17:20).
[Yes, faith and its power to “move mountains” is an idea that appears multiple times in the Jesus tradition, indicating that the phrase probably originated with the Master himself. But, of course, Jesus’ words presume that his listeners, like most of us, had no such minimal faith. Hence, he implied, our belief remains powerless.]
Jesus’ faith
aside though, consider the content of Ms. Williamson’s tweet. It simply asked
her followers:
To face the power of our human minds and spirits as much greater and connected with natural forces than we generally believe.
In view of that fact, to activate their collective force to avert disaster.
And to do so by stilling that mind through meditation, by praying for those in the hurricanes path, and by visualizing their prayers answered.
Read it again: that’s exactly what the tweet says! Nothing more; nothing less.
In other words, it was all quite harmless and potentially powerful. There was nothing in it of fear, hatred, climate-change denial or blame of victims – all the responses we’ve come to expect from the outrageous tweets of more conventional politicians. Instead, there was only expression of solidarity, compassion, faith, stillness, and acceptance of what traditional spirituality tells us of the untapped power of the human spirit that consciously aligns itself with the divine.
As I’ve already indicated, the tweet also implied a connection between human consciousness and Mother Nature herself – something underlined in the mystical traditions belonging to all the world’s great faiths and to mainstream science as well. (As Francis of Assisi would remind us, all of us are in some sense a part of “Brother Hurricane” Dorian.)
But, horror of horrors (!) such expression of traditional faith and scientific insight was enough to disqualify Williamson from presidential candidacy. Whoopi Goldberg and panel members on “The View” ridiculed her. Others characterized her as no better than that of religious fundamentalists.
To my mind,
however, it proves just the opposite.
Williamson’s tweet demonstrates how truly different she is from her fellow candidates as well as from the fundamentalists who have hijacked the faith of Jesus. And how refreshing! Her viewpoint is what our times require, where expressions of faith are limited to “thoughts and prayers” after mass shootings — or to divisive imposition of narrow beliefs about abortion and rejection of LGBTQQIAAPs.
In fact, Marianne Williamson is so different from what we expect from politicians and secular leftists that when she simply expresses solidarity with those in the Bahamas, Florida, Georgia and the Carolinas (whose prayers no doubt echoed Marianne’s tweet) she reveals herself as absolutely mystifying, incomprehensible, and unacceptable.
Let’s face that too: Williamson’s tweet expressed extraordinary solidarity with those in Dorian’s path. Without doubt, many of them were praying that the hurricane’s force might be mitigated or diverted. In fact, if we found ourselves in their circumstances, the religious among us (and “foxhole Christians” as well) would be offering similar prayers: “Please, Lord, save me and my family from this hurricane. Change its path. Keep us safe.”
And what would be wrong with that? It’s an absolutely human response to impending disaster.
No, the hubbub over Ms. Williamson’s tweet is but another demonstration of why her candidacy is indispensable. We need her to profoundly change our political conversation, to move that conversation from fear and denial to compassion, and to unveil the true nature of faith engaged with an overly-secularized world.
Readings for 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time: WIS 9:13-18B; PS 90: 3-6, 12-14, 17; PHMN 9-10, 12-17; PS 119: 135; LK 14: 25-33
Marianne Williamson’s campaign is not dead. True, she will
not be appearing on the stage of the third Democratic debate. Although she has
the required number of donors, Williamson has not yet attained the necessary 2%
in four polls approved by the Democratic National Committee (DNC). Nonetheless,
her campaign continues its concentration on Iowa, where she’s been working for
the last several months. Her people confidently anticipate her participation in
Debate # 4.
Recently, the New York Times (NYT) ran a long very positive column on Marianne. It was called “The Gospel according to Marianne Williamson.” It reminded readers of Ms. Williamson’s identity, her growing and highly enthusiastic audiences, and the persuasive power of her remarkable eloquence.
The article assured readers that Williamson is far more than some New Age guru or the spiritual advisor of Oprah Winfrey. Jokes and criticisms aside, she has nothing to do with crystals or burning sage. Instead, she is a widely-hailed, best-selling author, spiritual teacher, counsellor, and generally wise person. For more than 40 years, she has been a student and teacher of A Course in Miracles (ACIM), a book published in 1974) which Williamson describes as “basic Christian mysticism.”
It’s that latter qualification – Williamson’s connection
with Christian mysticism – that makes her continued campaign extremely relevant
to this Sunday’s liturgy of the word. That’s because the theme of today’s
readings contrasts the wisdom of God with the wisdom of the world just as does
ACIM. Serious consideration of that contrast illustrates the unique importance
of Marianne Williamson’s candidacy at this particular juncture in the history
of our nation and world.
For ACIM, the world’s wisdom is based on fear; God’s wisdom
is based on love. In fact, according to A Course in Miracles, love and
fear are the only two motivational forces in the entire world. That’s true in
our personal relationships, but also in politics. Either we see others as
enemies poised to attack us at every opportunity, and act accordingly. Or we
recognize our very selves in those the world would teach us to fear, mistrust,
and hate.
More specifically, the politics of fear sees Muslims, Russia, China, the Taliban, ISIS, immigrants, people of color, LGBTQQIAAPs, and poor people in general as our enemies. Meanwhile, a politics based on love recognizes that none of those the world teaches us to fear is basically hostile. Rather, when we take 100% responsibility for the problems designated enemies ostensibly represent, a path opens up to achieving peace with all concerned.
Does such conviction seem woo-woo or unrealistic to you? If
it does, please be reminded first of all, that such belief is basic not only to
Christian faith, but (as Williamson constantly reminds us) to all the world’s great
religious traditions, including Islam. It is basic also to many secular
traditions that consider themselves atheistic or agnostic.
Secondly, remember that according to Christian faith, “God”
is synonymous with “love,” so that Williamson’s “Politics of Love” means the
politics of God. That means (thirdly) that rejection of political love as
woo-woo trivializes Christian faith and Jesus himself.
With all of that in mind, please read for yourselves this Sunday’s liturgical readings. (You’ll find them here.) To repeat, they contrast the wisdom of the world with the Wisdom of God. In any case, and for what it’s worth, here are my “translations” of their content. Their thoughtful review will help you see what I’m getting at in saying that Marianne Williamson’s “Gospel” is far deeper than revealed in the NYT article just referenced.
WIS 9:13-18B
The wisdom of God Unlike the world’s Is sure and decisive. For human thought processes Focused on the body And its shifting reality Are necessarily confused. Hence, we cannot judge wisely Without assistance From the Holy Spirit Who consistently reveals God’s Reality As filled with love.
PS 90: 3-6, 12-14, 17
This is because Time has no meaning For God. Everything but Love Passes in an instant. Consequently Our prayer must be: “Teach us Your changeless vision Filled with kindness Joy and gladness.” Only such Synonyms for love Give meaning To our lives.
PHMN 9-10, 12-17
For example, An elderly and imprisoned Paul Long ago Rejected the world’s wisdom About slavery. Seeing with the eyes of Christ He says Miraculously transformed Onesimus From slave and chattel Into a man A partner A son and brother. “Follow my example,” The shackled one implores.
PS 119: 135
We agree: Show us your face, O, Lord, In slaves And in those behind bars. Yes, teach us your ways.
LK 14: 25-33
But the Master warns: “If, like me, you live According to God’s Wisdom, The World Will surely crucify you As the subversive You must be To qualify As my disciple. But be sure to Subvert non-violently For otherwise, The militarized Powers of the world Will surely crush you. Sabotage instead By insistent example That refuses To value anything The world treasures.”
Those are radical thoughts. They are 180 degrees opposed to
the “wisdom of the world.” Yes, the very wisdom of God teaches that we have no
enemies other than those our thoughts and resulting actions have created. It’s
reconciliation with our designated enemies (recognizing them as embodiments of
our very selves) that holds the promise of our very salvation.
No Democratic candidate other than Marianne Williamson dares
call us to such radicality. It’s that change in attitude that ACIM defines as
“miraculous.” Only that sort of basic transformation in consciousness can save
us from the unprecedented catastrophes facing our world today.
As Ms. Williamson puts it: “It’s unreasonable to expect those who drove us into the ditch we’re in now to be the ones qualified to get us out.”
No: our present context necessitates an entirely new leadership and consciousness – a new wisdom based on love rather than fear. That’s the vision Marianne Williamson offers us this election season. And it’s not New Age woo-woo. In reality, the wisdom in question is not new at all. It’s reflected in the teachings of Jesus. It’s the wisdom of Paul. It’s the theme of today’s liturgical readings.
Readings for 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time: SIR 3: 17-18, 20, 28-29; PS 68: 4-5, 6-7, 10-11; HEB 12: 18-19, 22-24A; LK 14: 1, 7-14.
[What follows is a dramatic re-creation of Luke’s rather abstract account of Jesus’ dinner at a Pharisee’s home. (See the narrative here.) While Luke seems to have the Master recommending impossible (for Jesus) hypocrisy and self-promotion, the re-creation seems more probable and gets at Jesus’ real message about the Kingdom of God and its preferential option for the poor.]
In this morning’s gospel episode, Jesus finds himself invited for dinner to the home of a Pharisee. All present, Luke tells us, are watching Jesus closely. No doubt, they’re keeping an eye on his disciples too. And they don’t approve.
After all, like Jesus, his disciples are mere riff-raff. But at least Jesus is the reputed peasant-rabbi. Everyone’s talking about him. And investigating Jesus is the whole reason for this dinner. So for the moment at least, the Pharisees are willing to cut him some slack. He’s sitting near his hosts towards the head of the table.
His hangers-on however are a different story. They’re rough. They smell of fish and sweat, and have no manners. And yet, as Jesus’ friends, they’ve been granted a place at table — down towards the end. Even there, they feel out of place, but for that very reason they are enjoying themselves tremendously. You can imagine their rough jokes and loud laughter.
Yes, the Pharisees are watching Jesus and his friends. But obviously, Jesus has been watching them as well. He knows they are expecting some words of wisdom. So . . . he tells them a joke. And the joke’s on them. It contains a sharp barb.
“Thanks for inviting us to this banquet,” Jesus begins. “Unaccustomed as we are . . .” He pauses and smiles. “That’s quite generous of you. After all, none of us can repay your kindness. We are homeless people, as you know. We’re unemployed too, so we are in no position to return your kindness.
The best I can do is offer you some wisdom. So let me tell you what I’ve been observing here.
“Evidently,” Jesus goes on, “it’s your custom to adopt the humility recommended in the biblical Book of Sirach. I can’t tell you how impressed I am; I’m edified by your piety. I mean, you have clearly taken to heart the words of the sage, Jesus ben Sirach – what he said about being humble, especially if we are ‘great’ as all of you are here, I’m sure.”
Jesus eyes his listeners. He can tell that they are waiting for the penny to drop. So he drops it.
“I can see that when you come into a place like this, you take the lowest place available — down there where my friends are.” With this, Jesus stands up bows his head, stoops his shoulders and slumps towards the lowest place at table. He laughs.
“That way,” the Master continues, “our host, of course, is obliged to publicly invite you to a more honored position at table. ‘Friend,’ he’ll say, ‘come up higher, and sit in the place you’ve merited not down there with the unwashed and poor.’”
Now Jesus is standing. He throws out his chest and strides towards the seat right next to his pharisaical host. He chuckles again. “That enables you,” Jesus continues,” with great protestations of unworthiness, to take your ‘rightful’ place at table. Your stock has risen in everyone’s eyes.
“So congratulations are in order,” Jesus says. “All of you have learned your lessons well. You’ve just created a show, and have actually exalted yourself by pretending to be humble. In a sense, you’ve received your reward.”
Jesus is seated again and looking intently at everyone. Their mouths are open with shock.
“So here’s my wisdom, friends. . . . Your ‘humility’ is not what Sirach was recommending. In fact, it’s a form of pride and self-promotion.
“Instead, real humility is this: when you throw a party like this one, invite the poor, the lame and the blind, and then serve them. Place them at the head of your table and treat them as honored guests. People like that can’t or won’t repay you. But in fact, YOU OWE THEM.” Jesus fairly shouts those last three words.
“I’m telling you the truth,” he says. And humility is nothing but the truth.”
Jesus pauses, but he hasn’t finished yet. “You see, those belonging to what you consider the Great Unwashed — like my friends — are actually God’s favorite people. Recall what the psalmist said about them in Psalm 68. He said God is the Father of orphans; he’s the defender of widows, of prisoners, of the homeless, and of farmers without land.”
Jesus is quiet now; his smile is broad and friendly. He searches the faces of his table companions one-by-one.
Then he turns to his host and adds.
“To be fair, my friend, you yourself are on the right track. By inviting us today, you’ve shown that you already understand what I’ve been saying. As I say, none of us can repay you, and yet you’ve invited us to this abundant table. We are sincerely grateful.
“But don’t think that you’ve somehow performed an act of charity by your invitation. No, it’s an act of justice – of compensation to make up for what you have stolen from the poor by underpaying them and taxing them heavily. In supporting the poor and even the “lazy,” you are simply imitating our generous God.
“I mean the earth and its produce are all gifts from God. No one has earned them. No one owns them but the creator. If you have food, then, you are obliged to share it with the hungry – even with those unwilling to work. As difficult as it might be to understand, that’s simply the divine dispensation.
“The earth and the life it supports have been freely given to everyone – even to people like me and my friends who refuse to work and live from the alms of people like you. No one deserves life or food more than anyone else. So in effect, you are obliged to do what you’ve done.”
(Homilist’s note) None of this needs commentary from me.
What’s your commentary?
P.S. You might be helped in formulating your thoughts by this short interview of scripture scholar, Reza Aslan, by Russell Brand. In the exchange, Aslan explains how Jesus, the Buddha, and Mohammed were more interested in economics than in theology. They were economic radicals intent on turning their societies upside-down. None of them intended to found a new religion.
Just yesterday, our extended family returned from a week in Alaska celebrating a landmark birthday of our daughter. She and our son-in-law observed the occasion by treating us all to a week-long cruise in our country’s northern-most state. Here are my reflections on this never-to-be forgotten experience.
Unplugged for a week In Nature’s wilderness. We cruised Alaska’s Inside Passage 12 pilgrims (five of them small children) Finding divine presence Everywhere Including games Of Yahtzee, Go Fish, Poker, War And endless rounds of Monopoly.
We started out In Petersburg’s fishing village With its canneries Reeking of halibut and salmon, Boats of all sorts, And Alaskan natives All wearing Levis, Weathered baseball caps Padded parkas And rubber boots Reaching beyond their calves In the mid-August rain.
Our vessel was a 100-foot yacht Called “Golden Eagle,” With its crew of five All under 30 – Its captain of 27 years Eager to talk of God Justice and Karl Marx, A wondrously skilled cook, Two naturalist guides Wise and competent beyond their years, And a delightful 20-year-old concierge.
With them, we hiked, kayaked, fished And immersed our selves In Alaska’s stark wonder Beyond anything Previously experienced: Spruce-covered mountains Blue calving glaciers Whales by the score, Sea lions, seals, otters, bald eagles, Wild churning waterfalls And a steaming hot spring Beside an icy lake,
All the while We read Michener's Alaska With its tales Of seductive cave women 12,000 years ago Of huge mastodons Saber tooth tigers, And giant Grizzlies 11 feet tall, Of sailors, miners, clergymen Saints and remorseless sinners Who slaughtered unsuspecting natives And purposely vitiated them With rum, racism and rapes Of native teenage girls Afterwards kicked and spat upon, Of heroic Eskimos With their mighty sled dogs, And enormous capacity To endure cold, long journeys Stupid Russians And even denser Americans.
It was the familiar story Of imperialist settlers And their colonial theft Of native wealth Arrogant beyond belief Imagining that white men Have a Manifest Destiny To ravish, torture, and kill Their humble betters Destroying Everything in their path Leaving chaos in their wake And Mother Nature prostrate, And bleeding to death.
Once we entered An empty lighthouse On a tiny island – A stubborn relic Of FDR’s New Deal, A sometime research center For maritime scholars And whale-trackers Who live there like monks Each summer And sleep in spartan bunkbeds Leaving behind crude sketches Of whales with Signature painted flukes, Along with Flashlights, compasses, charts And scattered coffee cups –
All proof Of purposes other Than ours And of transcendent life forms In that vast harsh outpost Across the well-worn foot path That became Captain Bering’s Strait For millions Man and beast alike.
About Things That Matter 
