Category: Rants

Religious Right: Hangin’ With Hookers

Published by mhelbert on July 21, 2020

Sometimes I feel like that proverbial “Fish Out Of Water.”
Most of my vision and attention is on Christianity, specifically the Bible, and how it intersects with culture and church.
So much damage has been done to people because of the weaponization of both theology and Biblical study.
How many LGBT young people have been shunned by family and community as so-called religious leaders use the Scripture as a bludgeon to hammer these young folks like a blacksmith shaping iron?
“Hey, you Pious Pricks! These are humans made in the Image of God! Not something that you may objectify and form into your own likeness in the way that you have molded your god!”

Yet, sometimes I’m drawn out of the world of religion and into the world where people actually live and breathe. Hell, many of us argue that this ‘real world’ is the only place that religion is able to find its true footing. After all, Yahweh came and pitched God’s tent right here on Terra Firma in order to prove Divine Love for the Cosmos. When you think about that, it’s pretty amazing!

Today is one of those days that I find myself drawn into the world where faith and praxis intersect with culture. I am committed to trying to shine the Light of God and Faith into the darker recesses of our humanity. Places where injustice and oppression find themselves attempting to grow in God’s Garden like weeds and thistles.
(As an aside, I have been waging war on real thistles in my yard and garden. These intrusive weeds are ubiquitous to our area and are damned hard to kill. We have finally found a treatment for them. But, it requires cutting each individual plant and ‘painting’ the curative on the newly cut stem. Time consuming for sure. A pain in the back? Yep! But, it is effective. I’ve noticed a huge reduction in new sprouts. Maybe, just maybe, I can win this battle!)
That image is really quite relevant to the growth of weeds in the church at large. And, White Evangelicalism in particular.
Since the early 1980s when people like Jerry Falwell, Sr., Jim Dobson, Kenneth Copeland, Jimmy Swaggart, Jim & Tammy Faye Bakker, and others christened the so-called ‘Moral Majority’ and began to tout their brand of christianity there has been a decided shift in the winds of politics.
White Evangelicalism seemed to be drawn inexorably into the maelstrom of power. Since so much of their dogma was relegated to the outbox of relevancy, they chose to fire weapons of faith at their newly created Culture Wars.
In actuality, it wasn’t all that new. Religious powers had tried to enforce their particular brands of culture and morality on the world for pretty much Ever.
In the 1980s, however, their reach, or overreach, hit the airways of mass communication.
In a way that was good. It gave the wider world a chance to see the immoral power struggles that embraced religion in real time.
It was also, however, a means to ‘rally the troops.’ These conservative religious people sounded the clarion call to alert everyone that the world was on fire with atheists and communists and all sorts of mean & hateful people who were going to eat babies and wreak havoc on Mom, apple pie, and the ‘murican way!
Heaven have Mercy on us all!

What actually happened, though, was not a rescue mission to save the culture. It was not, in fact, even a religious call to repentance and faith.
The primarily White, conservative, Evangelical church became the de facto religious wing of the Republican party.
They traded their birthright, and absolutely abdicated any claim to the moral high ground, for a bowl of oatmeal.

The apostle Paul wrote, (you really didn’t think that I could resist bringing the Bible into this, did you?), a lot about how faith and culture should interact.
One image that I found while studying Paul is that of a person paying for sex with a prostitute. Paul was NOT writing to people who weren’t part of the Church. He wrote specifically to those who claimed to follow Jesus. And, while he was writing about a person actually interacting with a prostitute, the image, I think, bears on what is happening in the world of White Evangelicalism.
Paul wrote, “Don’t you know that whoever is united to a prostitute becomes one body with her? For it is said, ‘The two shall be one flesh’” (1 Cor. 6, NRSV).

I want to be clear that I believe that conservative religious people, particularly White Evangelicals, have climbed into bed with conservative politics, especially the Republican Party, and have engaged in relationships that have made you One Flesh with them.
How far can you fall before you reach the bottom?

I adjure you to consider the position that you are in. It’s precarious to say the least.
God is NOT for or against any political party or position.
God seeks the fruit of truth and justice.
All other fruit is tasteless and rotten.

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What Will It Take?

Published by mhelbert on July 20, 2020

Earlier this summer we in the U.S. were witnesses to something that purported to be a “Movement.” Black Live Matter was written across our nation in ALL CAPS. Many of us who had lived through an earlier Movement during the Civil Rights struggle of the 60s as well as that of the Viet Nam war resistance viewed this new thing with, I think, a tinge of nostalgia. We were there. Our black and white, rabbit-eared televisions put us in the mix of the struggle.
Of course, most of us were mere children at the time. But, even we could sense the electricity in the air and smell the ozone of the sparks it created.
Many of those sparks erupted into full-blown conflagrations as Watts and Hough caught fire and burned.
I will never forget watching the police in Chicago press the ‘Suppress At All Costs’ button out in the streets during the Democratic National Convention in 1968.
Nor, will I ever stop mourning four dead young people on the campus of Kent State University when Gov. James Rhodes allowed the Ohio National Guard to use lethal force against protesters.

Many changes came about during those moments in history. Voting rights were gained by the disenfranchised in America. A war in some far away jungle was fought on nightly television news. And, we saw the end of an era on April 4, 1968 when Martin Luther King, Jr. Was murdered.

I say an end of an era because in many ways it was.
People in this nation had seen and experienced enough.
Enough anger; enough hate; enough killing.
It seems as though there’s only so much chaos that we humans can endure before we simply stop and close our eyes.

So, we convinced ourselves that we had all done a great job of addressing the many issues of the day. The good results we kept. The not so good we chalked up to ‘experience’ and walked away from.

In most places that process has a name.

Complacency.

That one word describes a sense that All Is Well. Or, at least it’s Not Terrible and we can live with it.
It reveals a people who are tired and who have no desire to press the struggle to its actual terminus.
“We’ve done pretty good! Well, at least pretty OK!” we say as we turn on the ball game and open a fresh bottle of Heineken’s.

Perhaps I’m just voicing my own cynicism.
I’ve seen this process happen so many times.
People mobilize and march and stage boycotts and the news carries this or that spokesperson for the “Cause du jour.”
Then there are the rebuttals that must be shown. Equal opportunity and all that.
Soon, the news cycle shifts to the high price of chicken because of some bacterial thing that made someone in B.F.E. puke.

Then, gone.
Forgotten.

It seems that only when people break windows and burn cars and yell and scream and throw things…it’s only THEN that people pay attention.
I read the NY Times for Sunday.
There was a lot about the late John Lewis. As there rightly should be. He was a giant among Humanity.
However, the causes that he fought for were conspicuously missing.
Black Lives Matter?
The only coverage was about the Federal Government’s illegal activity in Oregon.
I haven’t seen a word about any marches or rallies on local media.
In fact, the absence of coverage for PEACEFUL and NON-VIOLENT activity, the very things that Congressman Lewis gave his life for was deafening.

Seriously, folks.
Do we need to burn the country down in order to secure some semblance of Justice for what the Bible names, “the least of these?”
Will it take more deaths and disaster to finally show us that we are all Equal in God’s eyes? So, dammit! We should be equal in one another’s eyes as well?
What will it take?
We’ve been at this a long, long time and the same issues are still raising their Hydra Heads.

I don’t know.
I hope that I will be able to see some life in our culture before mine ends.
But, that hope hangs on a thread.

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Color Blind?

Published by mhelbert on July 6, 2020

Last week I wrote how my Dad reacted to the murder of MLK.
My Dad grew up in a small town where there were few, if any, African Americans.
He was a child of his time.
Jim Crow was still the rule of the Land, if not the actual Law.
Blacks were viewed not only as “Other,” but as “Less Than.”
Outside of a few city slicker, bleeding hearts no one even thought twice about it.
Most folks were like my Dad simply trying to get their piece of the American Pie.
They really had no time to think about things like Equal Rights and Red Lining.
Hell, I’m pretty sure my Dad went to his grave having never heard of Red Lining!
No one cared.
Period.
They had their own worries and concerns.
“Blacks? Who cares? Let them worry about themselves. That is, as long as they don’t show up in my neighborhood!”

My first contact with Blacks was when I was a very young child. I lived in a lily-white world. Except, on garbage day.
That’s when the Negroes came down our street with the garbage truck to collect the stuff that we no longer wanted.
The Garbage.
Imagine my young, white mind seeing this.
My dad went to work somewhere magical every day.
Negroes collect garbage.

Of course, my parents never said anything to dispel that thought.
As far as they were concerned my observations were spot on.
Negroes collect garbage.

Throughout my youth I never had any other real contact with African Americans.
Oh, yeah, they showed up on the news fairly regularly.
But, with Dad’s commentary in my ear, there were no positive images seen or understood.

That is, until Music.

I remember the first time I heard “Green Onions” by Booker T. & the MG’s.
Holy Shit!
What was that sound?
Do you feel that?

First the ears, then the eyes Opened!

Later, who’s that guy with the ‘fro?
Jimi Who?
Oh. My. God.
Is that a guitar?

Mind. Blown.

The circuits in my brain began to search for new pathways to describe and explain the cognitive dissonance that I experienced.
I had always heard that Blacks were something, (note “something,” not “someone”), to be at best ignored. They had no talent or ability that would interest a white person.

But, Bloody Hell!
That guy could Play!

I picked up B.B King, and Albert King.
Fats Domino and, of course, the King of Soul…James Brown.
(My Dad had no use for Brown. He referred to him as a Screaming N-R.)

Once on a journey to the hinterland of Cleveland Public Hall to relish the sweet sounds and harmonies of Three Dog Night, I heard nature’s call. When I got to the Relief Portal I found that all of the stalls had a coin slot on them. So, now it costs a buck for a coke and a quarter to get rid of it. They had us coming and going.
However, one young man, about 6 feet tall and ebony of hue, wearing a sheepskin vest and a wide-brimmed hat held the door open for me. “No way someone should have to pay to piss.”

More of the instilled hatred that my Father tried to pass on to me was flushed away.

Yet, my destiny seemed to be in following my white forebears through life. I got a job with a mostly white business. That business busied me for the next 40+ years. I had limited contact with folks who did not look like me.
I found myself engulfed in the cultural tsunami that was Ronnie Reagan.
Yes, I have repented of my youthful foolishness. My back striped from self-flagellation.
But, the mantra of that time was, that nothing was more important than the economy. And, that economy is ‘Color-Blind.’
That meant that everyone and anyone had equal access to the same prosperity. All you had to do was work hard at it.
See!
Color Blind!

Unless, of course, you were one of those Welfare Mothers who became baby factories for no other reason than to suckle on the Government Teet.
Or, you were one of those crack head, absentee fathers who stuck his dark wick into any willing receptacle. Of which, there were apparently an endless supply. (See Welfare Mother.)

No. Racism didn’t die when the laws changed.
White folks thought it did.
That’s why white folks invented the term Color Blind.
You see, Lady Justice wears a blindfold. So, if the Law says ‘Equal,’ then that means that 400 years of oppression suddenly vanishes. Just like that White Jeannie with the skimpy harem outfit and the blink and nod thing. Gone!

Now that I’m older, so much older…
I see that the only color that white folks are blind to is White.
Yeah, I know that technically White is the absence of all color, but play along.

Who was it that affixed the moniker “Red Man” to indigenous Americans?
What group of people colored the Asian “Yellow”?
What enlightened culture labeled an entire continent, “The Dark Continent”?
Oh, you thought that was because of the deep, dark jungle?
Yeah, probably not entirely.

White people, the squeaky-clean, sparkling progenitors of everything good and worthwhile in the world have done more to demean and destroy anyone, or any culture, that may seem to set them in a poor light.
White folks can’t stand to be “Losers” or “Also Rans” or anything less than King of the Hill.

But, in more ways than we care to admit.

We are.

Actually, that pretty much sums this up.

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1 Corinthians_A Digression

Published by mhelbert on June 17, 2020

Yesterday I wrote a little about what I think was St. Paul’s over-arching concern for the churches that had contact with.
That concern was for unity. As he wrote, he desired that the folks in the fellowship of believers at Corinth would “be like minded and of the same consent.”
So, it’s no surprise that one of my reader would pose the following questions:

“So is it possible to apply this call to unity as you understand it to the Fundamental/Evangelical portion of the church? What does that unity look like? Must unity be reciprocated or can it be only one way? Do I have a responsibility to pursue unity even if others don’t want to have unity with me? If you believe a group within what we would consider the Body of Christ holds hurtful, or even evil doctrines regarding women, gays, minorities, immigrants, etc. must we attempt to live in peace and unity with them? Can we express unity over spiritual matters but go to war with one another over political positions?”

Some of you reading may not understand the questions. They seem to be a way of dodging the responsibilities that Paul appeared to lay upon the folks at Corinth.
“Of course! Unity is unity! We should strive for it with all people.”

And, for those of you who may ask that question I have a reply that may explain where such questioning may originate.

If you were never a part of a conservative, evangelical church you really have no idea how questions like those asked of my reader are important.
Many of us came to follow Jesus at a time when there was a lot of social and political unrest in the U.S. We were part of the so-called “Jesus Movement” of the early 70s. We built our faith and identity on our understanding of the Church as it was described in the first few chapters of the Book of Acts. We willing gave away our belongings and identity in order to “follow Jesus just like the first Church!” Hallelujah!
Part of our concept of how to do this was to become “Disciples.”
We understood that the term Disciple shared an etymological root with the word Discipline. So, we instituted a church government that we believed mirrored that which Paul and Peter and the rest established in the first century.
We had elders who held absolute authority over the church. We took the words that folks should not cause the elders any grief because they worked for God and not themselves.
We believed that such elders or even so-called apostolic ministry was ordained by God for the building up of the Body of Christ so that we could live counter-culturally and witness to the Good News that the Bible taught us.
As our churches grew, we got older. We began to see cultural issues as battlegrounds where our faith was tested. Abortion became a rallying cry for us. Secularization in government and wanton corruption in entertainment caused our leaders to decry how our culture had fallen from its original mandate to establish a City on a Hill that would beckon those seeking religious freedom to our cause.
As you can see, our church culture was ripe for authoritarian abuse. Those elders and leaders we had entrusted our faith to led us into culture wars where we soon saw ourselves as a persecuted minority.
Those of us who did not hold positions of authority were expected to do as we were told.
We met when we were told to meet. We raised our children according to the ways prescribed by our leaders. We had marriage retreats where husbands were told that they were neglecting their duty as the “Authority and covering” for their wives and children. In some case we were told how to spend our free time and how to vote.
The church was our life.
We were instructed by people like second-rate psychologist and theologian wannab James Dobson on how to raise children.
He was wrong on so many levels. But, we didn’t realize it at the time.
We were becoming disciplined disciples who disciplined their children in a disciple-making manner.
Many of us still suffer from the dysfunction that lingers to this day.
Our elders controlled how wives should submit to their husbands in all things including sex.
Wives, we were told, didn’t have control over their bodies, their husbands did. And, husbands were told that we were simply sexually driven animals who really didn’t have any control over their bodies either.
This led to abuses, adulteries, slut shaming, and a purity culture that shamed girls and women.

Many of us, myself included, suffer today from some form of what is termed
“Church PTSD.” Walking into an evangelical church for me is a triggering event that causes anxiety and anger associated with our natural ‘fight or flight’ reaction to perceived danger.
I know people who absolutely cannot walk into ANY church because of the abuses they incurred.
I’m not talking about physical abuse in my case.
Emotional and Spiritual abuse, however, have left me and my family scarred.

So, for those of us who escaped from that milieu, we react viscerally when someone suggests that we should strive for unity with those we feel abused us.
This is what leads us to ask the kinds of question my reader posed.

How can we seek unity with our abusers?
Is there any common ground that we can find with the haters and bigots who were spawned by this fundalelical movement?
Can we sit with the likes of Franklin Graham or christian nationalists like Robert Jeffress, pseudo-historian David Barton, or the Liar Tony Perkins?

From my description of these folks you may assume that I don’t see a way.

That may not be entirely accurate.
I do take the Bible seriously. I take my trust in the Faithfulness of God seriously, also.
So, what to do with our personal histories and beliefs?
I think that we’ll continue this discussion for a while.
We may even find some hope in Paul’s letter to that troublesome church at Corinth.

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Still More Options

Published by mhelbert on June 12, 2020

A couple of days ago I wrote about options. Choices that we as Sisters and Brothers within our Human family may make that may help us along the path to Conciliation with our other Sisters and Brothers who look, talk, or live differently than we.
These are the People whom evolution has trained us over millennia to distrust because of the possible danger of anything, or anyone, who is “Other.” These fears are deeply ingrained into the very fabric of our being.
And, they are not easily removed so that healing can take place.
I also wrote that not only are the Oppressed victims of these fears. Oppressors, too, suffer lasting hurt. We cannot do things to others without searing our own consciences and minds.
We cannot, like Christopher Columbus, feed children to dogs or amputate limbs from helpless, indigenous people and NOT do lasting damage to ourselves.
Healing is something that we all must work for.
Healing is also something that I cannot do for myself.
Just as we engage in horrific practices of “Othering” within a specific group of people, so must we heal within groups of others.
I cannot simply sit in my office and turn off generations of implicit and explicit biases alone. These biases were developed by the communities that I have been a part of.
They have been reinforced through social and cultural conditioning to the point that I am unable to see how they live and affect me. I NEED Others to walk alongside me and support me and help me see the blind spots that are there. And, I need these Others to be Other than I am. For if I only look to my own clan, we will collectively remain blind.

I have debated whether or not to take this discussion in the direction that I will. Especially, since in my previous post I lumped religion, myth,and philosophy together and cited them as being ineffective. And, in fact, when looked at through the lens of history, they have in many ways not only been ineffective, but have aided in the cultures of abuse and hatred that we are now seeing the fruit of.
But, I am a religious person. I’ve spent much of my adult life studying and reflecting on religion and its effects on people. I have found very little that can have as profound or lasting effects on people and communities, for good or ill, than religion. We need only look to the shootings at churches, mosques, and synagogues in our own country. Not to mention female, genital mutilation and honor killings in many Muslim cultures.
But, then, there are those who risk their lives to care for that sick and hungry. In the Middle Ages it was the religious who went into the homes of plague victims to comfort the dying.
Religion has the ability to bring out the very best and the very worst in humanity.
Can we focus that influence to specifically Good outcomes?

Ever since the first hominins gathered together into communities religion has been a part of life. Flashes of lightning and crashing thunder made them look to the heavens and ascribe personality to these phenomena. Great beasts were endowed with supernatural power and divinity. Rituals to appease these great powers developed. If only we can produce the correct offerings given in the correct ways, perhaps the Powers will bring the rain when we need it and keep destruction away.
Proto-religion was born.
The priests and others who became the spokespeople for both Divinity and humanity were granted authority to make sure that all was done properly. Of course, this authority was itself rife with abuse.

The reason that I share this at all is because I believe, (you certainly don’t need to), that there is a part of us that feels a disconnect from a spiritual Reality. We attempt to reconnect to that using all sorts of different means and methods. Some sources take the word ‘religion’ and see in it the root religare, “to bind fast.” Similar to our word ligament as something that binds one thing to another. In this case humanity binds itself with a deity or power through various practices and rituals.

So, I look around. I try to see what religion does in and through people.

Unfortunately, I see very little good. Besides the violence and abuses that any religious fundamentalism brings, there are dogmas and rules that are used to control how people think and behave. People cite holy books and writings for justification to seize power. In the 14th and 15th centuries Papal Bulls were issued that resulted in the enslavement and deaths of countless African and Indigenous people. All justified by god’s representatives on earth.
“I was just following god’s will!” they cry.

No. Sorry. You were not.
You were following your own appetites and desire for riches and powers.
You corrupted something that was good. Something that we used in order to ‘re-connect’ and ‘hold fast’ to God you used for your own corrupt and damnable aims.

Ok, so why the lesson on religion?

Simply stated, as I mentioned above, religion is a powerful motivator. It can motivate us to good or ill.
I also alluded to that part of each person that seeks connection with something greater than itself. A deity or power or whatever. There is a longing for that.
For myself, I believe that there is actually a Divine with Whom we may connect.

And, I believe that this Divine is inherently Good.

By looking at the many abuses that followers of the Divine inflict on others in the Name of God, I can see that may be a difficult argument to uphold.
But, I think it can.

Like I last wrote, now is not a time when we should be looking outward in order to see what Others are doing. We only do that in order to judge them. Don’t do that.
Instead, look within.
Let us see what is living within our own hearts.
Shine a light into the dark corners of our hearts to expose the beasties that may hide there.
Or, to show the emptiness that is there. Both are real possibilities.

This is a place to begin.
Self-reflection.
Self-criticism.

I don’t think that self-improvement is an option.
There are, however, options that we may take together.
At least, I hope so.
More about that later.

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I’m So Tired

Published by mhelbert on June 9, 2020

I’ve struggled with writing this post.
The reason for the difficulty is that
I’m tired.
I’m tired of listening to the news day in and day out
about how the Left hates America and the Right hates everyone.
I’m tired of hearing that Covid-19 is a hoax and that the
murder of innocent children and educators at Sandy Hook was staged.
Right now the streets of the country are filled with righteously indignant people protesting yet another act of Street Justice Capital Punishment inflicted on an African American man.

ANOTHER ONE!!!

How. Freaking. More. Lives. Must. Be. Lost?
I’m really tired because we’ve been through this all before.
Apparently, to no avail.
So I guess I can add frustrated to tired.
I’m tired and I’m frustrated.
And, I’m losing hope.
I was a kid in the early 1960s. I didn’t watch the news. I was only interested in Superman and Roy Rogers. But, by the time ‘65 and ‘66 rolled around I was beginning to see scenes of people marching with signs and police officers and soldiers trying to stop them.
My father, whom I loved dearly, grew up in small town America. He had no use for these people with the signs. And, he was fairly vocal about it.
1967, “The Summer of Love,” came around and, again, the news was flooded with images of people dressed rather unconventionally dancing and getting high. Rock-n-Roll was definitely here to stay.
The images of people being killed in some far-away jungles were also appearing on the nightly news. In all honesty, I had no clue what that was all about. I was a 12 year old aspiring rock-n-roller who spent most of his time with a guitar in his hands. Oh, and chasing 12 year old girls. Yeah, that was important, too.
In 1968 I sat in front of the TV and witnessed the murders of MLK and Bobby Kennedy. Soon, the nation was burning and people were getting their heads caved in on the streets of Chicago.
More people marching with more signs.
More police and soldiers standing in their way.
And, you know what?
Some things actually changed.
In the mid-60s the Voting Rights Act was passed.
People began to talk to one another.
Flower Children planted flowers in M-16s.
By the time I graduated from high school in 1973, we began to
have hope that the Times, They Were A-Changin’.

Then, something changed.

In the words of Steppenwolf, I think we “grew fat and got lazy.”
We thought that the Monster was dead. But, it had just slunk into its hole somewhere to lick its wounds.
We grew up. We started families and gained responsibilities: bills to pay; jobs to work; soccer practice…
Reagan promised us prosperity and we believed him.

Now, here we are.
Again.
Throwing rocks and tear gas at each other.
Shooting unarmed Black men and wearing body armor.
Squeezing every cent out of poor people who can’t afford to be squeezed. Watching the poorest bear the brunt of a global pandemic while politicians squabble about pennies.

I really hate some cliches, but it seems to be a truism that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

And, I’m tired of it.
I’m too fucking old to keep seeing this play out the same damned way time after time after time after God. Damned. Time!

Is there hope?

No. Not if we try to deal with society and culture the same way we did 50 years ago. If we simply throw money at it the Monster will simply sate its appetite and demand more.

Perhaps, there is a way to slay the beast. Or, at least one tactic in the battle.
I’ll muse about that in another post.

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Me; My; Mine

Published by mhelbert on April 13, 2020

I debated long and hard about writing this post.
Part of me really wants to sit back and ignore what other people think.
Their opinions are just that, “Theirs.”
And, if no one appears to be injured by that opinion, why not just leave well enough alone?

Then, there’s that other part of me.
You know, that part that causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand on edge when I sense injustice. When people, whether consciously or not, say or do things that may clearly impact others negatively.

Yeah, I think that’s the part that wins out today.

Truthfully, what I have to say today may not mean much to anyone reading this. It may simply seem like a minor disagreement about religious ideas.
Bear with me.
I’ll get to the point eventually.

Yesterday was Easter. Christian High Holy Day of all Holy Days.
It is the celebration of Messiah Jesus’ victory over death.
For this the entire Cosmos celebrates.

But, we must remember that the only way that we get to Easter is straight through Good Friday.
Most of us know that on that day, Jesus was stripped, beaten, and ultimately nailed to a tree and left to die. Gruesome? Yes. Heinous? Yes. Necessary? Also, Yes.
Jesus knew that his path lay along that path. His prayer the night before lets us in on that.
“Father, if this cup can pass from me.”
He knew what was contained in that cup.

Here’s the part that we don’t usually think of right away.
Jesus CHOSE to drink it anyway…to drain it to the dregs.
Jesus’ entire public life was characterized by this same self-giving.
The apostle Paul recorded this in the letter that he wrote to the Church at Philippi.
Jesus, he wrote, “emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men.” Phil. 2:7.

Jesus also taught his followers that they must consider others more important than themselves. They must love one another with the Same Self-Giving Love that He had for them. That they must, “Take up their cross” in order to follow him.

Paul consistently told the early Church that they would need to suffer as they followed Jesus. And, that they should count that suffering as Joy!

These are the things that characterized the first followers of Jesus.
Distilled to the essentials, “Self-giving, self-sacrificing Love.”

So, yesterday I watched a half hour Easter presentation by the senior pastor of a local Mega Church Wannabe.
His message of “hope” revolved around how we can, because of Jesus, turn our graves into gardens.
Because of Jesus all of our needs can be met.
Our sorrow becomes joy as we kneel before Jesus.
We are “saved” from all kinds of evil because, yep, Jesus.
All of our tears may be dried and our hope and dreams come to fruition if only we trust Jesus.

Now, all of that sounds kind of ok, right?
It’s a positive message.
God’s love seems to be displayed in this kind of talk.

But, what is the primary thrust of this?

A close look reveals the lie.

Everything this person said was all about, “Me; My; Mine.”

It is all about what God will do for ME!
This is a self-centered false gospel that elevates my wants and desires above those of anyone, and everyone, else.

The danger in this kind of false gospel is that it is a reflection of, and a justification for, the kind of individualist exceptionalism that is far too prevalent in our culture.
From the Seven Mountains heresy to America First the idea of God pouring out blessings on Me becomes the main, and only, focus of what it means to follow Jesus.
We see this played out every day by people who claim that THEIR religious liberties are being threatened. They cry out that THEIR rights to do this or that should take precedent over YOUR rights.
This false gospel reinforces the Reformation ethic of my personal salvation is all that matters. It states that if I was the only person who needed saving, Jesus would still come and die…for ME.

I’m not saying that Jesus would not do that. I am simply pointing out where the focus of such a statement lies.

With ME.

I’m sorry.
That’s not the way the Gospel works.
That’s certainly NOT what Jesus and the early Church modeled.
Make no mistake.
The Gospel is all about God reconciling the Cosmos to God’s Self.
It states that God’s faithfulness is always trustworthy.
God has always loved the Creation and desired to share God’s own Love with it.
And, God took the initiative to make it so through Jesus.

That’s how the Gospel works.

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There’s Madness in My Method…Or Something Like That

Published by mhelbert on April 9, 2020

Some of you may be wondering why I have suddenly gone off on some weird theological tangent.
“Why is he getting so worked up over something like this? It doesn’t have anything to do with what’s going on in the real world right now!”

I get that.
It does appear that I’m taking something that is not relevant pretty damned seriously.
Especially, something that I don’t really have any control over.
I mean, who am I to presume that my tiny brain and even tinier voice could have any impact on something as deeply entrenched as Western Christianity.

And, you would be right!

My voice is like a whisper in a hurricane.

That doesn’t give me a pass, though.
For, at this particular moment in time the Voice in my heart speaks loud enough.
That Voice compels me to speak.
If only to one other person.

So, back to the question I asked.
Why does this call for a new Reformation get me worked up?
Why should I, or anyone, care?

I’m glad that you asked that question!

I believe with all of my heart that the Faithfulness of Jesus the Messiah and the trust that Paul, Peter, and all the rest of the nascent Way of Jesus was misunderstood by those who followed them. Particularly, those who, I’m sure in good faith, tried to reconcile a specifically Jewish narrative with the prevailing Hellenistic world.
The introduction of the philosophies of Greece, particularly Aristotle and Plato, in effect
co-opted Israel’s story and planted it firmly in soil that was unable to sustain the growth that Jesus, Paul, et al had begun.

Ok. So what?

In the Greek mind, as I wrote yesterday, the rich tapestry that was Israel’s story was reduced to binaries.
Good/Bad; Black/White; Us/Them.
Paul’s theology was likewise reduced to fit this worldview.
What had been a beautiful Gospel of hope in the God of Abraham to reconcile the Cosmos was turned into a Frankenstein’s monster of Greek pieces with Biblical language used to justify the creation of such an aberration.

The result?

A dualism that allowed theologians to find in the Scriptures a way for humans to gain entry into some Ideal, Spiritual realm called “Heaven”. While at the same time creating a necessary antithesis to this called “Hell.”

The Gospel, and the Church at Large, became a means by which humans could receive salvation for their Immortal Souls.
From there it was a very short step to compelling people to assent to some Church prescribed proposition that would somehow, (magically?), insure that they would one day walk with God in heavenly places while avoiding the Inferno that awaited Everyone Else.

Today, that’s pretty much the same false gospel that churches foist on unsuspecting people.

What? You want proof?

Look around!
So called ‘evangelists’ standing with bullhorns on college campuses yelling at people to Repent or Burn!
Evangelical groups standing at the entrance to clinics that offer Women’s Health care abusing women who may be at the most vulnerable time of their lives.
People carrying signs outside of funeral homes that carry the message, “Death to Fags!”
Scamvangelists like Paula White who is a counselor to donald trump.
Hate mongers like Robert Jeffress and Franklin Graham who speak of God’s love out one side of their mouths while proclaiming eternal hellfire for anyone who doesn’t buy into their particular form of religious belief.
Bircher and false prophey Tim LaHaye.
Pseudo-Historian and christian nationalist David Barton.
The dangerous heresy of the Seven Mountains.
The damnable blasphemy that states the God. Hates. Your. Guts.
Indigenous Genocide.
Manifest Destiny.
The wholesale destruction of our environment by people who believe, (Falsely), that God has mandated that humans subdue and use, (re. ‘Exploit’), the environment.
The fact that I cannot walk into any Evangelical church without anxiety rearing up in my chest and mind.
How about that thousands and thousands of people who have been abused by those who preach such a hateful message?

Need I continue?
I surely can.

All of this…ALL OF THIS…is the result of humans who were deceived into believing a false gospel.

So, I write and I speak.

Do I claim to have all the answers to these issues?

Oh, hell no!

But, I do know a fake when I see it.
And, the Western Church, by and large, supports and acclaims a false gospel.
The true Gospel is one that reveals God’s love, not only for humans, but for the entire Cosmos.
The true Gospel has the power to reconcile, not divide.
Paul wrote that in Messiah Jesus there are no walls to separate.
There is neither Jew nor Greek; Free nor Slave; Female nor Male.
We can extrapolate this to say that there is neither Black nor White; Gay nor Straight; Republican nor Democrat.

The bastardization of the Gospel cannot say any of those things.
It sole purpose is to divide.
There is Saved and Damned; Believer and Pagan; Us and Them.

May that Gospel be damned!

So, yeah.
I’m worked up about this.
It’s of paramount importance to me to speak against these abuses and Blasphemies.
Yeah. I said it. The “B” word.
That’s what that false gospel truly is.

So, there it is.
And, I will continue to speak out.
At least as long as I must.
If that bothers you, well ok.
But, not sorry.
If you have similar thoughts and feelings, please share this.
Perhaps our collective voices may amplify these abuses until people begin to notice.

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When It Rains, It Pours…Then, Tsunami

Published by mhelbert on February 14, 2020

I think that we have the makings of a pretty amazing comedy!
We can call it, “The Life and Times of An Average Guy.”
It will tell the story of a person who led the most average kind of life you could imagine.
Married; Kids; Soccer; Work…you know, Average.

Then, after nearly 50 years in the Average work force, earning average wages after average daily commutes, this average guy decides it’s time to take his average retirement.

No biggie.

Average.

With a capital “A.”

Then, two months before said retirement he goes for an Average, Routine health exam and all of that Average stuff that he had been accumulating over the Average years of his Average life was suddenly thrown into the spin cycle of the Cosmic Washing Machine.

Shit.

Here’s the latest update.
I wrote yesterday that I had met with the surgeon who is going to perform the necessary surgery to remove the cancer in my colon.
He told me that he is going to put a few holes in my abdomen and remove about 12″ of my colon.
Of course, this is still contingent on the MRI that I mentioned yesterday.
I should be in hospital 3-5 days, or until the newly routed plumbing begins to function.
Then, I was told that I could return to work in 5 weeks.
FIVE WEEKS!!!!
I told them that I just sit in front of a computer all day.
They said, “Oh. Ok, 4 weeks.”

Taken by itself that doesn’t sound too bad. After all, I will be recovering from a major surgery. And, when they put holes in your belly, that can be real painful for a long time.
I get it.

But….

That time restriction takes me right up to my retirement date.
So, what that means is that the 7 weeks that I had planned for is suddenly 2 1/2.
It means that the time I have to train my replacement is cut.
Ok, we can deal with that.
It also means that I won’t have a paycheck coming in for that entire month.
That is more difficult to deal with.

Fortunately, the powers-that-be at the company I work for are going to work with me to see what options are available.

Do you want to know how I feel right now?
No, I didn’t think so.
I’m not even sure how I feel.
I’m being swept forward by a tsunami of Not Average Events that are really screwing up my Very Average Life.

Oh, we’ll get through it.
But, it’s gonna take an Above Average Effort.

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Can Nothing Be Easy?

Published by mhelbert on February 13, 2020

To state the obvious, this has been an interesting month.
It began with me looking forward to entering the world of the retired in about 8 weeks.
Now, I’m preparing to fight cancer.

Surprise!

On top of that, I’ve been struggling with some kind of virus that’s kicking my butt. I have slept maybe an hour out of the last 36.
Coughing, hacking, and not being able to breathe have helped that.
Then, there’s the stress and anxiety of dealing with the cancer.
Doesn’t lend itself to a restful night’s sleep.

Yesterday, I met with the surgeon who is going to treat me.
We talked about the results of the CT Scan.
That proved to be interesting.
In the report I read, it noted that there were a few small spots on my liver that were too small to identify.
The doc said that these are most likely simply cysts that are completely normal.
But, there’s always a “but,” he wants to be sure.
That means I get to have an MRI before they do the surgery.
Now, if the spots on my liver turn out to be cysts, or some other innocuous thing, then surgery goes on as scheduled.
If, however, they are not then the surgery’s off and we begin chemo.

Yippee.

We won’t know for 2 more weeks.
More waiting and not knowing.

I also saw my cardiologist. He needs to give me clearance to have anesthesia. He ordered a nuclear stress test.
Another layer of Pain In The Ass.

The surgeon’s office gave me a folder full of instructions that I must follow to the letter before the procedure.
I thought prepping for a colonoscopy was interesting.
I ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

By the time I got home from seeing these docs I just wanted to jump up and down and scream, “F#@K!, F#@K!, F#@K!, F#@K!, F#@K!” and break things.
I’m frustrated, angry, sad, bummed, anxious, scared, and a myriad other emotions.
I know that this is a normal reaction to this kind of, what?, disruption?

No one plans for these things.

It’s part of being human.

We hit bumps in the road. (Or, in this case, the road ends and you fly over the cliff).

I’ll get through this.

But, c’mon already!

Sorry.
This has been my rant for the day.
Hopefully, now I can get some sleep.

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