This administration’s virulent vacuity

I pray. All the time. It’s rarely obvious. I don’t care to be associated with much of today’s religion, which (with blessed exceptions) I find naive at best or nefarious at worst. If this is disturbing, let’s have a cup of coffee after this RSV departs what’s left of me. I’ve ordered some Bourbon Infused Pecan Coffee from Jumpingoat Coffee Roasters in Cleveland, Georgia. Like those sisters I met in a Mobile monastery in 1972, we can “pray for the world” as we share our individual and collective fears and hopes.

I pray as I process. I’m wired for moments like Friday night Jewish sabbath ceremonies, a Sunday night jazz service, a Midnight Christmas Eve Communion, a Dying Moments ceremony at a Kairos prison ministry weekend, or Barack Obama ending Clementa Pinckney’s eulogy by singing “Amazing Grace.” The Buddhist Walk for Peace has opened an inner dialogue with whatever Christianity is in me and whatever Buddhism might be in me. This nascent Buddhism has been helpful as I deal with RSV. I pray as I write each of these 2,084 posts. It’s a vital part of my ongoing spiritual therapy. By the way “salvation” means “healing.”

I missed church today. I’m more impoverished when I don’t participate. The amazing congregation embodies a kind of diverse community that expresses the best of our world. The staff understands and lives out the concept of Servant Leaders, a much-needed practice that (that our present federal administration seems hell bent to exterminate). Our senior pastor, Kevin Thomas, spoke prophetically at a hearing last week as the Alabama Legislature considers immigration legislation.

I’m still prayerfully processing yesterday’s embarrassing performance at the Homeland Security Director’s news conference (played to an “audience of one” who resides at Pennsylvania Avenue). Much is going on. In case you missed it:

Statement from the U.S. Conference of Mayors Following Death of Another Protestor in Minneapolis.

“This morning, on a street in Minneapolis, at least seven federal agents tackled and then shot and killed Alex Jeffrey Pretti, a 37-year-old ICU nurse for the local VA hospital.”

Is this finally America’s breaking point?

The extra-judicial execution of Alex Pretti

Portraits of the Minneapolis Resistance

Execution in Minneapolis

They Keep Lying to Us

Lies and Lawlessness

To help us cope, to pray, to be safe, to be faithful, let’s have a cup of coffee together if possible, or virtually. Be well. Stay warm. Be strong. When it arrives, I’ll give you a review of the Bourbon Infused Pecan Coffee from Jumpingoat Coffee Roasters.

Oklahoma in the rearview mirror

After 15 days in Oklahoma, we’re in Hot Springs, Arkansas on Day 51 of our American history sabbatical. Grant Foreman’s The Five Civilized Tribes describes Choctaw hardships after relocation to what’s now Oklahoma. They weren’t prepared for Arkansas River floods that wiped out entire Choctaw villages. We camped by Keystone Lake, north of Tulsa. The lake’s size and the dam’s height reveal the Arkansas River’s powerful flow, now harnessed by the good work of the US Army Corps of Engineers.

Foreman describes government injustices in the Trail of Tears era, and government efforts to help the tribes adjust to the new land. This included access to technology from Europe and/or developed in America, desired by Native folk (plows, anvils, saws, spinning wheels, firearms, etc.). Foreman describes how Immigrant America learned from Native America. Continuing Monday’s “We” theme, we (immigrant folk) could have learned more. They were not them. They were us. It’s just us.

The Hot Springs National Park is a federal facility that (during the “shutdown”) is being kept open by volunteers and area governments. In 1832, Hot Springs was the first property to be reserved by the federal government for public use, forty years before Yellowstone became the first National Park in 1872. This sabbatical has given me new respect for federal workers and volunteers who maintain and improve public lands such as national parks and Corps of Engineers campgrounds.

The coolest camper we’ve encountered goes to Dusty and Tina, who completely renovated a 31-foot 1976 Airstream, pulled in the 1970s by a prior owner’s Oldsmobile sedan. We met them at Belle Starr Corps of Engineers Campground on Lake Eufaula in Oklahoma. (Left-to-right: Cathey, Friar, Dusty and Tina.) If you look closely, you can see the photographer. The curve of the Airstream’s mirror-like finish takes pounds off everyone’s reflection. I’m the stick figure holding the camera amid the trees.

Perspective: ecology

My first encounter with the word “ecology” was on a poster stapled to a utility pole when I was a college sophomore. Since then, climate change has been at the epicenter of ecological conversation, an inconvenient truth for the current rendition of the Know-Nothing Party.

Ecology enriches theology by connecting us to all things, an inter-relatedness rooted in a more unitive consciousness. Last week in Michigan at the Muskegon State Park, we saw 9 inches of rain in 24 hours. It was memorable, but nothing compared to those in the wake of Hurricane Helene.

At the Petoskey and Straits State Parks, we had idyllic fall weather. But, winters are rugged. In January, the average high is 27°F and the average low is 14°F, with 37 inches of snow. As I grow older, theology, cosmology and ecology are more tightly woven together.

The Universe is 13.7 billion years old (give or take 200 hundred million). Earth is 4.5 billion years old (plus or minus 50 million). Those numbers were on my mind as Friar, Cathey and I enjoyed a Petoskey sunset. Two days later, in downtown Petoskey, we heard, “Friar!” A young woman we met that sundown snapped this picture as she left the platform overlooking the beach. She said, “Let me send you a photo.” It was one moment of ecological grace among many during in the past 13.7 billion years.