Written and posted originally in 2014 -- 

On The Children at Our Border - Revisited

I am a therapist.  I have degrees.  I am capable of assessing, evaluating, observing and even diagnosing persons. But most of what I have learned comes from the privilege of having people come to my office and sharing their hopes, dreams, doubts and fears. I listen, observe, support and diagnose. However, if I can’t identify with, empathize with and recognize that these courageous and wounded ones are also me and I them, then I cannot see in them my own journey and think and feel and believe even as they do, and I am only full of “sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

So it is with these courageous and wounded children who come to this land, though it be one of privilege and poverty. They are like the Israelite slaves stumbling out of and longing to flee the oppression of Egypt who are also like us:

“Then we cried unto the Lord – and the Lord heard our voice –

And brought us out of Egypt with an outstretched arm with great terror, signs and wonders –

And he brought us to this land – flowing in milk and honey – and he gave us this land”

                                                                                                                                                        Deut 26

We have all been given this land.  We are our mothers and fathers and their mothers and fathers.  Indeed we are all those who came here in small boats and large, stumbling and hoping for a new life.  We are all of them for 15 or more generations.  We are those who have looked to the horizon, smelled the land, seen the birds, and even glimpsed a great statue in New York Harbor, on which is inscribed:

“Give me your tired your poor

Your huddled masses yearning to be free

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me

I lift my torch beside the golden door”

In addition to being a therapist, I am also a Christian.  Not a particularly good one, certainly not a pious one, but one whose heart and mind is stirred to compassion and heartache for all those who are oppressed, and as such, a listener to this man from Nazareth, who said:

“Let those children come to me

For unless you become as one of these

You cannot see the kingdom of God”

                                                                                                                                                        Luke 18

And again:

“Come to me, all you who labor and who are heavy laden

And I will give you rest”

                                                                                                                                                        Matthew 11

These are not simple platitudes for comfortable, air conditioned pews. These are a serious challenge to identify with the “gentle and lowly of heart.” We are all the inheritors of those before us and they were like us and we like them. On the shores of the Sea of Reeds (we call it the Red Sea); with the Pharaohs’ chariots hard on our heels (bigotry, racism, greed, manipulated laws and regulations), we are all threatened by our own self-importance, our material greed and our warped notions of love, and as the Israelites needed to be delivered from Egypt, we need to be delivered from the impoverished slavery of our “exceptionalism.”

Recently I heard a line from an old Black Slave Spiritual:

“I’m gonna put my foot in that water

And God’s gonna stir those waters

I’m gonna put my feet in that water

And God’s gonna trouble those waters”

                                                                                                                                                        Anonymous

For me, I am stirred by the plight of these little ones, and I hope, if necessary, our politics, our corporate/profit mentality, our shallow and superficial culture, and our personal agenda driven laws are “troubled” and that the result will be the deliverance of these who came to our land, and in that, we too may be delivered.

In the Bleak Mid Winter

When people ask how I am I always respond, “I am a 7, the scale is 10 and I don’t do 6.”  8 requires more imagination, 9 is borderline delusional and 10 doesn’t exist.

Lately while sitting alone in my living room my feelings while pondering the many challenges of life I experienced myself sliding toward 6 and maybe even 5.

We live where we are surrounded by trees, woods, forest and in the summer one can see only the front edges of the woods.  However, in the clear, cold winter the trees are bare, and one can see deeper into the woodland, especially after a recent snowfall of almost one foot allows seeing even deeper into the trees and underbrush.  I got up from my bluesy self-pity and went out on my deck.  While gazing into the woods I saw a single deer run through and I wondered if there were others.  Sure enough, after several beats, six more deer followed in rapid succession.  Then they were gone.  I watched to see if there were any more.  And then I saw her – running hard all alone and wanting to catch up.  I waited a while longer to see if there were others – there were none – they were all gone.

I went back into my living room and felt my emotional temperature rise back to 7.  What had happened?  I processed what I had just seen and realized that I and perhaps others, had just been given an anti-depressant experience of life on life’s terms.  Sometimes we lead, sometimes we follow and sometimes we just try to catch up.  Pondering further, I wondered from whence came the urge, the impetus, the wish – to get up and walk out onto the deck – at just the right time?

 I don’t want to be arrogant enough to say I know.  But I do know there is a mystery in life that we cannot predict or schedule.  Some call it Grace –  so do I.

Easter Morning, 2017

Immortality or Resurrection

By Peter K Bullock, MDiv, MS

In 399 BC Socrates, the classical philosopher and considered one of the Founders of Western Philosophy, was executed due to his moral and ethical stance that “might does not make right.”  The form of execution was to drink poison hemlock.  While dying, surrounded by disciples and friends, he spoke of the gradual numbing of his legs and torso due to the poison.  Those around him were weeping and grieving and it has been said that he comforted them, for after all, in good Hellenistic theology, he had a “soul” and it was imperishable and immortal and that he “was going to a far better place (ie, eternal life).

Human beings have in all cultures had a notion of life after death.  Neanderthals buried their dead with food, weapons and favorite items to accompany them in the life to come.  Vikings believed in Valhalla where warriors who died with weapons in hand would drink and be merry in the great hall of Odin.  Native Americans did the same, believing one goes to The Great Mystery (eg, Happy Hunting Ground).  Muslims believe they go to Paradise and some (the radical variety) believe if martyred they will be greeted by 70 virgins.

Christians influenced by the same Hellenistic philosophy of an imperishable and immortal soul believe, perhaps due to the universal angst about mortality also believe in a Soul.  Evangelicals, a relatively new name, brought about to distance from Fundamentalists but not much has changed in their belief system (“you can’t put new wine into old wine skins”).  They, like Socrates (not Christian and dead 400 years before Jesus who was also executed for his moral and political stance), believe in having an immortal soul.

The ancient Jews of whom Jesus was one, did not believe in life after death, but they steadfastly believed in a creator God who was the source of all life.  The pro life types having to do with abortion don’t seem to be pro life when it comes to the environment (the planet is a living entity) or when it comes to bombing brown people, or capital punishment or the use of guns.  They would do well to take the scriptures seriously –  “God breathed into Adam (Hebrew for human being) (Genesis 2:77 RSV) . . . the breath of life and he became a living being.”  We become human (alive) when we take our first breath – as or shortly after we are born – not before.

Comparing the death of Socrates with the death of Jesus; Socrates was calm and comforted his followers.  Jesus prayed, “remove this cup from me” and “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  Socrates, like many in the western world of Christianity believed he had within him the capability to survive death (eg, immortality).  Jesus, on the other hand, knew he did not.  Many Christians believe that if they do the right thing, believe the right thing, the soul will be transported immediately to heaven (paradise).  In other words, many believe the power to determine their fate lies within themselves.  Jesus believed he had no such power, but was willing to trust in God, who created him in the first place.  “We are saved by Grace through Faith, and that not of ourselves, it is a gift of God – not of ourselves, lest any man should boast (Ephesians 2:8).  Socrates believed in the power of his Soul – Jesus trusted in the power of God.

Postscript

A final note about mortality, about which I frequently ruminate as I approach my 78^th year.  Recent research found that the most prominent cause of human death on this planet is not war, violence, poverty, famine or disease etc, but simply obesity.  One would think that the “pro lifers” would be deeply influenced by the need to maintain a healthy body weight.

“Nothing New Under the Sun”

In the middle of the third century BC, one of the books in the old testament (HEB Scriptures) is Ecclesiastes, its author “Qoheleth” (HEB Preacher).  In it he writes there is “nothing new under the sun” (an early existential thought).  Therefore, there are really no surprises.  Human beings are going to behave as they always have.

A story about an African village, in which a young man agonized over the health of his fellow villagers is telling.  This young man was noted by a missionary as intelligent, insightful and deeply caring.  The missionary made arrangements that enabled the young man to go to college and medical school in England.  He returned years later to address the medical needs of his people and he was warmly greeted.  However, when he made it known that he had knowledge, experience and medicines that could greatly help the physical maladies of the villagers, he sat alone in his hut and no one came to him.  Perplexed by this, the young doctor looked for reasons and found that the villagers were still flocking to the local witch doctor for their ills, where the witch doctor would rattle monkey bones in a tortoise shell to make them well.  They did not get well, but habit, tradition, custom and stubbornness had soon “won the day.”  Ultimately the young doctor moved to London where he practices his skills among the poor.

Don’t be surprised, fellow progressives, about the recent election.  “There is nothing new under the sun.”