How to interpret the Constitution

 

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

I can imagine our Republic’s founders being quite pleased when they completed and agreed upon the Preamble to our Constitution.

Its aspirational words envisioned not only a renewed nation, but a new kind of nation. This was to be a nation centered upon its people, and focused on that which benefited and served those people as a single nation.

We the people, the document begins. These words, and the words that follow this opening statement, are the peoples’ words. They are words through which the people ordain and establish a Constitution to guide their lives together.

I trust the drafters of the Constitution trembled at what they were claiming for themselves—that the words they were approving represented the people’s will, and not just their own. If they felt no fear at that moment, they should have.

And what were to be the fundamental norms and qualities of this nation’s life for these people, for this people? Here are their six descriptors of them:

1) First, this nation was beginning an ongoing, never-ending, journey toward forming an ever more perfect Union. The opening words did not claim that they in themselves, either at their moment of conception or throughout whatever life they would have validity, would create a perfect Union, because, the founders surely knew, human perfection is always beyond human reach. More perfect is a moving target; you have to get ahead of it to meet it. This was to be a nation always focused on the future and its possibilities

And it is always to be a Union…a one, a singular…made out of many. A thing by itself—consisting only of its own kind or substance—is not a union, because it doesn’t have to be. Union requires the combining of different kinds or substances, in this case, I suppose primarily, the States of the Union, but also the varieties of peoples and ethnicities and heritages that called those States their homes. The Preamble obviously envisions a union, not a disunion; a union always moving toward perfection—never there but nevertheless, always a union.

I suspect the founders would be dismayed by the politics of disunion for the sake of politics that prevails in our Republic two and half centuries later.

There’s a dark underbelly, of course, to their talk of Union: the Union envisioned at that moment excluded a lot of people who lived here, particularly the half of the population that was female, and the large percentage of the population that was not white. At best, women were second-class citizens; at worst Blacks and Native Americans were not citizens at all. Only with great struggle and sacrifice have they walked out of that dark into the light of full citizenship, each step forming a more perfect Union than the one just before it.

The Union would become more perfect as five more goals that follow this first one were embodied in the life of the nation.

2) Justice would be established not only in court rooms, but in the daily communal life of the people. The establishment of justice requires the careful balancing of the wants and needs of some and the wants and needs of others. When any individual or group of individuals achieves and maintains social, economic, or political power that controls the lives of others, there is injustice, and the people of this Union want that injustice righted and justice between peoples established. 

3) Domestic tranquility would be assured, not by the power kings and dictators assume for themselves, but by the respect of the people for one another and for the system of government and laws this Constitution ordains and establishes. Individuals and groups of individuals who threaten or destroy domestic tranquility threaten to destroy the Constitution itself.

A tension necessarily arises here: what if someone or some group seeking justice for themself threatens, or shatters, domestic tranquility? Too simply put: the nation takes a step back and explores what needs to be done to resolve the issue in a way that will create a more more perfect Union, a union without the fracture of that particular injustice.

4) The common defense would be provided for to assure our security from hostile invaders, foreign and domestic. To defend not just our land and our people. but the very ongoing ideals of our life together as envisioned in this preamble. The common defense defends us all together, not some part of us against some other part of us.

5) The general welfare would be promoted—the goal that there is a level of good that is good for every person in an increasingly perfect Union of all the parts of the nation. This Constitution is not to be understood and applied in ways that increase the welfare/wellbeing of some at the expense of others. The general welfare, like the general store, offers to meet every basic need, and a few extras as well.

6) And finally, the Blessings of Liberty would be secured not only for us but also for our Posterity, for those who come after us, after we the people. The six characteristics of the new nation that began by looking ahead to a more perfect Union conclude by looking ahead at Liberty for generations to come.

The articles and amendments that follow the aspirational words of the Preamble are, or intend to be, practical and down-to-earth guideposts toward turning the aspirations of the people into practical, livable reality. They are, in fact, implementing directions, answerable to the Preamble and its vision. However and whenever they are implemented, called upon, invoked, or interpreted, they are subject to the kind of nation the Preamble envisions.

To pull any one or collection of articles and amendments away from the preamble—as is done by many with the Second amendment—and understand it as if it is only about itself and its concerns is to cut it off from its air supply and threaten the living organism the Constitution’s drafters intended to establish.

Today’s striking down of Roe v. Wade advances none of the preamble’s envisioned characteristics of this nation. It is a giant step backwards. It threatens the full “blessings of liberty” for my young granddaughters. God forbid they ever become pregnant against their will.

In the name of “the unborn,” it threatens the respect for the Constitution itself that is necessary if it is to continue to guide our life together. I doubt the creators of the Constitution had any notion that one day, the “yet to be born” would exercise absolute power over the lives and fortunes of those who are here already.

Biking my age

What’s a guy your age doing buying a bike like that?

No, I haven’t lost my mind. But it is strange for a man pressing 80 to buy a bicycle. I don’t owe you an explanation, but I will give you one anyway.

Bicycling is one of my favorite outdoor activities. I used to enjoy walking, too. But “balance issues” began to affect my walking a several years ago, and now I need a cane or trekking pole to walk safely—especially in open spaces like the outdoors.

But put me on a bike, and it’s as if nothing’s wrong. My bicycle balance seems to be what it always has been, and I ride with hardly a thought about falling.

But another issue increasingly complicated my relationship with my beloved Specialized Crosstrail, size XXL. A year ago I began to have difficultly swinging my leg over the seat the get on and off the bike. And when I pushed it out of the garage this past March, I could not make that move at all. I felt too unsteady, and feared falling to the pavement with the bike on top of me. Was it because of the new left knee I got just about a year ago? Or was it…age?

I knew I could ride my bike, if I could get on it. Would I have to give up forever the freedom and joy of riding, a favorite activity that connected me, almost magically, to my youth? I began to search for alternatives, and that’s when I discovered step-through bikes.

Well, not really, There’s always been step-through bikes, and I’d always known about them, but they were called girls’ bikes. In another sign of society’s changing gender nomenclature, what had been binary (boys’ bikes vs. girls’ bikes) was now something in between, both and neither, something new that had actually been around all the time but we just didn’t know it. Who said a small difference in bicycle anatomy had to single a simple either/or, one-or-the-other bicycle gender?

I began to look for XXL-sized step-though bikes, and although they are out there somewhere (I think), I wanted to stay in a reasonable price range. So, the friendly staff at Joy Machines Bike Shop on Cleveland’s near west side helped me find the Jamis Citizen 2 pictured above, and modify it to make it work for me: longer saddle post (to which I attached what is definitely not a “comfort” seat), and a rack on the back where I carry a folding trekking pole in case I get stranded and have to walk a distance.

When I first got my Specialized bike, I put toe-clip pedals on it. A few years later I replaced them with regular pedals, fearful I could no longer easily make the quick motion needed to get out of them in an emergency. I didn’t like the change, but I knew I had to get used to it, and I have.

Now I’ve made another change. It’s what we do as we age if we want to keep living the best lives we can live. We must learn to adapt to the changes forced upon us by the years if we want to continue to live fully in the present.

My new bike is a metaphor for much of what is happening in my life these days. And it’s also a heck of a lot of fun.

Surrounded by family?

It’s become the norm for obituaries to report that their subject died (passed, went to Jesus, left this life, etc.) “surrounded by family.” I do not believe we’ve been offered this detail in obituaries until recently, and now it’s everywhere, apparently expected. Who could want otherwise?

“Surrounded by family” creates the image of a crowd of loving people gathered around the bedside of the dying person just at the moment of death.

I frankly doubt that this actually happens as often as it is reported. Maybe it’s a way of saying the person died “surrounded by the love and care and prayers of family,” which could well happen often. But literally…all or most family members crowded around a hospital bed in a tiny room, or gathered in a home all together at just the right moment when death finally comes? How often does that really happen?

Most deaths, even those that are expected, are unpredictable. Based on my experience as a pastor, I would say that much as families may think they should keep watch until an expected death finally occurs, few members of any family have the time or the freedom to wait around day after day, expecting it to happen soon. People have jobs, they have children and families to attend to, they are scattered far and wide geographically, and most of all, they just get exhausted and need to get away to get some sleep. Kind nurses often suggest family members care for themselves by going home and resting. Sadly, that’s sometimes when death happens.

Which can lead to guilt: I was there for days. Why didn’t I stay just a little longer? I feel so guilty about leaving them to die alone. No one needs that.

I wonder, too, if there are not many situations in which the dying person would rather some family members had stayed away. Feigned affection at the end of life is no substitute for the real thing during it. Maybe a sibling who has been hurtful for a lifetime is determined to be there at death, and adds to the hurt. Maybe the dying would just like to rest in peace before they die, not surrounded by a crowd of people who’ve long run out of things to say to one another, much less to the one whose death they are awaiting.

I am not against wanting to be with a loved one at death, and trying to gather family as it approaches. But reality often makes that impossible and perhaps even not desirable. Maybe there are times when just one or two beloved persons, representing all the caring family and friends who made life worth living for the dying one, is all that is needed. “Surrounding the dying” may not be the best thing for everyone in every situation, comforting as it sounds. Why make it seem as if it is?

Our Brutalist Birdbath

Introductions

Our Brutalist birdbath’s dull gray poured concrete displays only the vaguest of decorative touches. It it is so heavy that it nearly roots itself into the earth. Birds fly to it on its terms.

We bought it at Heckinger’s Hardware when we lived in southern Maryland, just south of the District of Columbia. We hauled it home, and lugged it to the tree-shrouded back yard of our modest church-owned manse. What a joy it would be to attract birds into our view!

I cannot remember how successful the bath was its first few years. Our daughters were born during that time, and I was serving my first solo church, and there were many distractions. It was spring-time for our family. I suspect I kept the bath filled with water during the hot and steamy summers, because I do things like that. More squirrels than birds may have enjoyed it.

In 1982 we moved our millstone-like birdbath to Illinois, and then, in 1989, to Ohio. That summer, as we settled into the suburban Cleveland home we were to call ours for three decades, I set it up in our back yard and filled it. 

Spring

Every spring for nearly fifty years, I have planted my feet firmly on the ground, and heave-hoed our birdbath’s shallow basin up on its pedestal.

Every spring I’ve worked diligently to set it just right. Water in that basin, like oil sealed in a carpenter’s level, tells me if it is only slightly out of kilter. After several tries, I either get it just right or give up. Most often it spends the summer pretty close to being level…not that the birds care.

And every spring it weighs just a little more than it weighed the year before.

Summer

We moved our birdbath with us to our retirement home in February, 2020, where it is most popular with the birds in late spring and early summer. The grassy rise outside our east windows is dotted with bird-filled trees. Robins, sparrows, flickers, finches, cardinals, crows, and more all fly to and from it during nesting season, taking a break from their parental responsibilities. One day we watched a hawk splash around in it. The other morning a pair of crows—side-by-side—was taking turns drinking from it.

I keep it filled with fresh water, occasionally scrubbing it clean with a wire brush to remove the greenish-black scum that grows on the bottom during summer’s long sun-filled days and moonlit nights. Once I ignored my housekeeping responsibilities toward our birdbath so long that mosquito larvae came to life in its dirty water.

As lazy summer drifts by, our birdbath’s visitors are reduced to thirsty squirrels. It needs filling less and less often, and I tend to forget it’s there, and its joys.

Autumn

Then, one day, it’s fall. Just like that. Fall’s rich odors are in the air, winter’s coming chill is in the wind.

Leaves and other debris float down into its dry basin. Once in a while, walking by, I brush them out of it onto the ground, and tell myself that’s it’s almost time to put it away for the winter. A thin sheet of ice floating on top of water left by rain the day before finally forces my hand. I don’t want to let water freeze hard and deep into it and risk cracking it, even though I am almost certain that would never happen.

Winter

One cool day I again plant my feet firmly in the ground and lift our birdbath’s basin off its pedestal. I used to carry both pieces of it off to shelter under a nearby tree for the winter, but now I just lean the basin against the pedestal right where it’s at.

Temperatures fall, rain is replaced by snow, and my disassembled birdbath withstands it all with nary a whimper. Concrete was made for such unfeeling. I can calculate how deep snow is by how far it reaches up the pedestal. It joins the barren trees and shrubs rooted in the grounds around it in promising the restart of life in a few months. Our birdbath may be inanimate but, strangely, even with its age spots, it is not dead.

I hope that before long I will again heave-ho our birdbath’s basin back up onto its pedestal. I trust the promise of life renewed, including mine.