LIKE

I like the word ‘like.’

Like when it compares one thing

to another.

The technical term is ‘simile,’

which is similar to ‘smile’;

that is, they look somewhat alike,
but you can frown at a simile
if you want to.

But, like, I don’t, like, like

the likes of a certain generation

which uses ‘like’ just to fill in

the gap between thoughts.

Those who do such a thing

are wastrels of words—

whores of grammar—

syntax sinners.

A simile makes connections.

It’s like a bridge over which

new meanings come into town.

Similes make ideas more clear,

like the city skyline

after the fog lifts the shades of morning.

Good writers, such as the poet Ted Kooser,

can write a poem such as Flying at Night and say:

   Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies

   like a snowflake falling on water,

and somehow distance and immensity

melt away.

A clean four-letter word: like.

It cleanses our perceptions of smudges

of misunderstanding.

It expands our vision of what is.

A little word, yet hugely beneficial—

like our tiny nerve endings

which propagate the human race.

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Jonathan and Martha

On May 21, 1815, Jonathan Hunt, Jr. married Martha Simmons. They had son, Joel Hunt. He had a daughter, Nancy Hunt, who married Marion Pardue. They had a son, Alonzo Pardue. He had a daughter, Dorothy Pardue, who married Raymond Crawford. They had a daughter, Christine, who married Ernest McLaughlin. They had a son, Wayne McLaughlin.

Jonathan Hunt, Jr. and Martha Simmons are my great-great-great-great grandfather and grandmother. Happy anniversary!

And greetings to all my relatives: the Simmons and Hunts and Pardues and Crawfords and McLaughlins and Adam and Eve and all the dinosaurs.

Speaking of dinosaurs.... The photo below shows our granddaughter, Norah, in reverential awe as she looks at "Sue," the largest reconstructed dinosaur (I think) in a museum (in Chicago) a couple of days ago. Norah is really into dinosaurs and has to help me pronounce the long names correctly. I occasionally watch the educational cartoon show, "The Dinosaur Train" with her. 

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It's a gay day.

 Today at our Presbytery Assembly at South Highland Presbyterian Church in Birmingham, AL, the Presbytery of Sheppards and Lapsley voted 80 to 52 to approve the Amendment to our church's national constitution to allow gays and lesbians to be ordained in the PCUSA. It doesn't mandate that churches or presbyteries ordain gays, but opens the door to those governing bodies who choose to do so. 

 A historic day for our presbytery. The whole PCUSA has approved this move by a majority of presbyteries. We now join the United Church of Christ, the Episcopal Church USA, and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America as a 'welcoming' denomination.

It has taken years of advocacy and debate and political maneuvering to get to this point. We studied the Bible and prayed and discussed this issue ever since the 1978 General Assembly voted for the first time on this issue. It was 1977 when I changed my mind about homosexuality as I studied what the Study Committee was reporting and recommending to the General Assembly. I found that I agreed with the Minority Report that year, which recommended accepting gays for ordination. My opinion has grown stronger with the years. 

Yet, I don't think it has been so much the Bible study and prayer that has changed our denomination. I think it has been the gradual change in our whole culture as gays and lesbians have become openly gay entertainers, politicians, etc. Probably Ellen DeGeneres has had more to do with the Presbyterian decision than the Bible has. And of course the coming out of so many family members, friends, and colleagues among us all has put a personal face on this 'issue.'

I am happy for my gay and lesbian friends and colleagues. It has taken way too long. I'm sorry. But this is a good day. Love finally overcomes fear. I understand those who disagree with our vote. There are different ways of reading the Bible, and some people have never gotten beyond one way of reading it. The wonderful thing about the Bible is that within its own pages it continually reinterprets itself. Therefore, reinterpreting Scripture in light of changing situations is a very Scriptural thing to do. That's what our church has done now. We have followed the example of the Bible itself and saw fit to understand what it has said in a different light. And that light is the gospel of liberation and the affirmation of our natural humanity--a good gift from God. 

Sexuality is not about what goes where. It is about the union of two lives; and for some--the begetting of children. It's not about gender/sex. After all, the Trinity itself has 'two men and a bird.'

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[The two photos were taken by me today during the presbytery meeting -- with an iPhone, not good quality, but at least as things were happening.]


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Country (as in Rural)

photo by wayne mclaughlin

May 9, 2011. This morning I read a poem by Barbara Ras entitled, “A Wife Explains Why She Likes Country.” The first sentence reads: Because those cows in the bottomland are black and white, colors anyone can understand…

‘Country people’ see things in black-and-white. They are simple people, without Masters degrees or Doctoral degrees. If you know me very well, you’ll know that I crusade against oversimplification and throw my weight to the support of an appreciation of ambiguity. But I also have a deep appreciation for ‘country people.’

Now, I know I’m stereotyping by using that phrase. But I’m following the theme of Barbara Ras’ poem, which presents ‘country’ as a simple, decisive, uneducated milieu. I spent many years of my pastoral ministry in small towns surrounded by agricultural fields. My congregations have had people who milked cows and slaughtered hogs and grew corn, beans, tobacco and other crops. I probably disagreed with most of them on political questions, and their theology was usually much more conservative than mine. But I grew to love these people for their authenticity, their down-home-ness, their know-how, their friendliness, their faith, and their humanity.

It’s easy for those of us who have higher education and a more sophisticated take on life to have a subtle feeling of superiority toward country folk. Elitism is a common disease of the well-educated. Country people have so much to teach us. Out in the country you find genuineness and a lack of presumptuousness, as well a nitty-gritty understanding of life. In her poem Ras the wife likes the country because only country has a gun with a full choke / and a slide guitar / that melts playing it cool into sweaty surrender in one note, / because in country you can smoke forever and it’ll never kill you…

What really matters in our human relationships is being human. When my real humanity encounters your real humanity, then we have begun to know each other. In Genesis the Hebrew writer uses puns to tell us that humans were created from humus so that we would live in humility. The wife in the poem ends by saying, because my people / come from dirt.

The dirty little secret is that all humans are alike, and the more we let down our guard and relate to one another on a truly human level, the more our commonality will bring us together. St. John wrote in his gospel that “the eternal Word became human/humus and lived among.”

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Bin Laden's fate is sealed

Here is the first draft of a little rhyme that I wrote today. It's not good poetry, and I don't know if it's good theology. But it's honest...

“Bin Laden’s Fate is Sealed”

Osama Bin Laden dead,

I’m nodding my head,

A nod is a yes,

Yet God is the best

Judge of what is right,

Which is not always might.

But let me be truthful:

I think it is useful

That Osama is dead;

His only gift to all was dread.

His absence makes my heart

            grow fonder

Of Armed Forces—

            which makes me wonder:

When is violence good or bad?

Should I be happy?

            Or should I be sad?

Sometimes it’s hard to decide

            what to do.

And sometimes it’s not really

            up to you.

Compassion is not as simple

As some would have you believe.

I’m glad that our Navy Seals

Assisted him to take his leave.

I don’t know what Jesus would have done.

I’m just glad that Osama is gone.

Sometimes my idealism

    Breaks under the weight

Of concern for the common good;

    Perfection will have to wait.

Osama Bin Laden is a child of God

Who got lost on the road of hate;

Fundamentalism directed him around a curve,

When he should have been going straight.

I bid farewell to one named Osama.

I tip my hat to Mr. Obama.

We’re all on the stage of life’s great Drama;

We speak our lines and pause at a comma.

But I admit: It does not give me pause

That Osama is dead. Period.

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