Setting Our Sails

The other night Maxine and I watched a film on PBS about a group of fifty Canadian high school girls who were chosen to sail to England in 1953 to take part in the festivities surrounding the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. “Coronation Girls” was surprisingly engaging from beginning to end. What most engaged me was the story of a dozen of them returning to England 70 years later to remember together their extraordinary experience from decades earlier.

The coronation was not all there was to their first trip. They spent seven weeks touring the British Isles, and apparently other parts of Europe as well. How could this not have been life-changing event for them all, the result of a wonderful gift from a visionary benefactor, one Garfield Weston?

As tokens of their journey, they had each received a medallion inscribed with this verse:

’Tis the set of the sails

And not the gales,

That determines the way they go.

Those words struck me as a worthy encouragement and challenge for young women just starting out their life journeys. As several of them were interviewed in 2023, they told the wide variety of life stories you might expect from such a group. What unified them was their experience of that first trip to England, of the history they’d witnessed, of the places they’d been, and of the opening wide of the world they would never forget. The trip had changed them all.

I looked up the entire poem from which that verse—slightly altered—was taken. Its author is the American poet Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919).

’Tis The Set of the Sail — Or — One Ship Sails East

But to every mind there openeth,

A way, and way, and away,

A high soul climbs the highway,

And the low soul gropes the low,

And in between on the misty flats,

The rest drift to and fro.

But to every man there openeth, 

A high way and a low,

And every mind decideth,

The way his soul shall go.

One ship sails East,

And another West,

By the self-same winds that blow,

'Tis the set of the sails

And not the gales,

That tells the way we go.

Like the winds of the sea

Are the waves of time,

As we journey along through life,

'Tis the set of the soul,

That determines the goal,

And not the calm or the strife.

The poem strikes me a bit dated, as a sort of moralistic self-help piece, too optimistic to take seriously given the strength of the gales we face. Our age is replete with studies into the storms that push lives this way and that, and too often off-course, so much so that we are excused for finding and defending reasons our lives didn’t turn out as we’d hoped. There are plenty of storms to blame, and we have named them all. Wilcox’s poem sounds like an rah-rah graduation speech that no one today should take seriously

And yet, I hear truth in it—my truth. How often have I succumbed to a challenge or crises that I face with a too-facile resignation? “That’s just the way I am,” and “that’s just the way things are,” and the like. It takes less effort to deny my own agency than it does to allow myself to be pushed by the wind to wherever it might take me. The truth is that I may well have more power to determine how I respond to the realities around me, as well as to those that are within me, than I give myself credit for. Does any of that ring true for you?

As the “Coronation Girls” reflected on their own long lives, I found myself reflecting on mine. I think that’s really the beauty of the film, and I commend it to you. It’s on PBS Passport.

A Government Hand-Out in the Form of a Bribe?

I keep trying to wrap my mind around President Trump's bribe/offer to pay adult Americans $5,000 each if we vote to keep Republican majorities in the House and the Senate.

Never heard anything like it. Can’t process it. (“Nothing like it in all of human history.”)

Frankly, it’s not offering us much to help assure that he can continue to rule at will. $5,000 ain’t chicken feed, but it’s not nearly enough to convince me I should give up on our Constitution. Is it enough to convince you?

Has he made it clear that he will pay people who vote Democratic as well as those who vote Republican? (He’ll probably know who voted how if he gets his way with our elections.)

Whatever, it’s nothing but a government hand-out, if you ask me.

Seriously, how gullible does he think the American electorate is? We will never fall for that kind of thing (or will we?).

I’m so confused.

Held in Trust

 

This post is about our current political morass, but it begins with some background about why I feel so very strongly about it. Stay with me, even if you are not comfortable in church.

I was pastor of several different Presbyterian congregations during my career. Although I often referred to them as “my church,” none of them was ever mine. I tried very hard never to forget that, and even to teach it to those congregations.

In the Presbyterian system of church governance, we often say something like, “authority and power reside in ordered groups of people elected by our membership.” Those groups are ordered so as to be accountable to one another in the exercise of their responsibilities. No one person—no one group of persons—is a law unto themself. What little ultimate power anyone has must be clearly articulated, and even then is never beyond scrutiny.

My position as pastor of a church meant that I was entrusted with an institution that was not mine to use as I wished. In fact, all of us in leadership positions in the Presbyterian church are in effect trustees of the church, holding it in trust so that it not only serves Christ faithfully today but will be strong to do so in the future.

It is a system that demands a lot of working together, often very hard work. A system in which someone or something has ultimate, unquestionable authority seems easier, and can often seem to get things done much more efficiently.

Pastors have been known to game the Presbyterian system, and congregations and other entities have been known to let them do that, at least until the roof falls in. I believe I failed the system sometimes by being unwilling to push to the limits of its constraints upon me, sometimes hiding behind them when things got dicey.

There are very important parallels between how Presbyterians are to govern themselves and how we as a nation are to govern ourselves. In our political system, citizens elect persons to represent them, either as individuals (president, governor, etc.) or as members of a group (congress, legislature, etc.). Those elected individuals and groups are ordered in such a way (ideally) so they there mutual accountability between and among them as they exercise their governing responsibilities. No one person or group is a law unto themself.

Many have said our nation’s founders learned what they wrote into our Constitution from the Presbyterians. I think that’s at least in part true, although there are deeper philosophical roots that meet somewhere to undergird both polities.

All of which is why I have so difficult a time with the presidency of Donald Trump.

It is built into me not to approve of or to accept single, unrestrained authority and power. I simply do not understand how anyone who was raised and educated in this country, or who sought and accepted citizenship here, does not have the same disapproval and resistance built into them.

“How can he do that?” has to be the single most uttered response to most of the things Mr. Trump has done in his second term. From renovating the reflecting pool to rounding up migrants to starting a war he has no idea how to end or to win, millions have thought if not said, “How can he do that?” Amazingly, he and his administration rarely offer answers that make sense, and we drift on to the next unbelievable decision we never thought could be made.

It is hard for me to imagine that there are no Republicans in Congress who struggle with the gift they keep on giving to Donald Trump—the gift of his not having to be accountable to anyone but himself. I sometimes imagine them all lying awake at night wondering how much more of our democratic republic they are willing to compromise so that he can continue unchecked. Would that they’d be brave enough at least to talk to one another about it! My wildest dream is that they are secretly plotting together to invoke constitutional provisions to deal with him.

My fear is that my wild dream is no more than a dream. It is that they really believe him, not because he’s is right, but because they’ve come to believe he is a leader ordained by some “god” who has granted him divine sanction that no one dare counter, even if it means the end of the United States of America as it was founded and as we have known it. They would rather drink poison than break ranks.

It all looks and feels like a cult to me, and only intense deprogramming will free his most ardent followers from blind obedience to him. Maybe getting defeated in November will be the kind of tough love some members of Congress need to start the process. (I am afraid there no similar way to free the Supine Court majority from its attachment to him.)

It comes down to this: the way Donald Trump is conducting his presidency continues to demonstrate that he thinks that our entire government is his private company whose purpose is to serve and gratify him and his needs. He offers no evidence that he understands that the people have entrusted our United States to him to manage in a way that serves all of us together, today and into the future. He gives no evidence that he thinks he is answerable to anyone but himself.

It galls my Presbyterian heart, and my U.S.A. heart as well.

"Socialists?"

 

“I’m very concerned about all the college students who are in favor of socialism, which leads to communism.”

I heard that today, and countered it with something about how the sharp move to the right that we’ve experienced the past couple of years has inevitably invited a sharp move to the left in reaction to it. I suggested that it is unfortunate that we use terms to put people into boxes rather than to help us engage one another in matters of substance. For example, are those students full-blown “socialists,” or do they favor government programs within our current economic system that may be termed, “socialistic?”

On my way home I recalled another conversation that I had yesterday with a father whose daughter is aging out of her parents’ insurance coverage. Despite persistent efforts to get a full-time job, she works two part-time jobs, neither of which offers health insurance. Because of the particularities of her situation she is looking at shelling out $1,000 per month in health insurance premiums.

Is it any surprise if a young person facing such a bill for health care thinks government-provided health care for all is a pretty good idea? For-profit health care is expensive, inefficient, and benefits those who have over those who have not. And policies that put health care—as well as food, housing, education, and many other life or death things—further out of reach for millions will lead to a general consideration of new ways to manage our common economic and political life.

So here’s a question: can capitalism provide for the basic needs of all members of a capitalist society? Will it, if it can? Since the New Deal, we have attempted to answer that question with “yes” through government management of our capitalist economy. There have been successes, but real need persists. We are now betting that removing government intervention will somehow inspire capitalists and capitalism to develop and fund new ways to help Americans overcome want and meet their basic human needs.

In my experience, there’s little reason to believe that will happen. More likely, the rich will get richer and the poor, poorer. That’s what is now happening, at record pace. It is no wonder a lot of people—not just students—are looking at alternatives.

Two Short Essays on Tortured Terms

 

“Truth” and “Justice”

My heart goes out to Dr. Anthony Fauci. He’s a man who has served our country and our people well for decades, and who has earned his retirement. He is also imperfect and has made mistakes, just like the rest of us.

I cannot honestly say that I know all the legal ins and outs of the congressional hearing that has resulted in his being charged with contempt of Congress. I can, however, understand his refusal to speak at a media-driven event whose purpose seems to have been to put him in jail, especially when his lawyer was expelled from the room.

(BTW, please accept my apologies as an Ohio resident for the behavior of Senator Moreno at that hearing. He is an embarrassment.)

With the vote to charge Dr. Fauci with contempt, Republicans in Congress made it clear that they are focused on finding truth and meting out justice. Good for them!

But not really: the Republican passion for truth and justice stops cold at the gates of the White House, making it crystal clear that everything they do—including the Fauci spectacle—is mired in political expediency, and therefore not to be trusted.

“Socialist”

As I rode my bike a couple of days ago along quiet trails in a nearby county park, I realized how much I love public places.

I have spent much of my life in places set aside by various levels of government for public use. From the parks in my small hometown, to the state park the next county over, to a good number of our national parks, I have enjoyed and loved and appreciated them all.

The idea that there are some spaces—some vast, wild or near-wild spaces where nature rules and perhaps history has been played out—that belong to us all is one thing that makes me proud and grateful to be an American. I enthusiastically support the idea that private interests do not have claim on everything, and that not every inch of American landscape needs to be developed and exploited to turn a profit.

But isn’t the very idea of public places socialistic? Isn’t it socialism for government to take something from a citizen or group of citizens and use it for the good of all? Am I, therefore, a socialist?

I guess so.

Seeing Clearly, One More Time

 

The past 36 hours have showered me with miracle upon miracle. So much so, that I have already started not noticing them, and and taking them for granted.

In March of 2024 I underwent cataract surgery on both eyes. I recall being amazed and pleased by the improvements in my vision. I was glad it had all gone well, and was ready to put that milestone on my way through old age behind me.

Several months ago I began to notice some fuzziness or cloudiness in my vision. I figured it was dry eyes or something like that, and tried several kinds of eye drops to clear things up. But my vision continued to get worse, and I made an appointment with my optometrist. He told me that I has one of a significant number of post-cataract-surgery patients in which the membrane behind the new lenses clouds over. (It’s called Posterior Capsule Opacification, or PCO, I believe.) He said the problem was easily fixed with a quick laser treatment.

Monday morning—two days ago—I went to the Cleveland Eye Clinic, where my eyes were thoroughly examined for about an hour before I finally got the promised “YAG” laser treatment . It took all of about 30 seconds. Even though my eyes were dilated, I knew right away that my vision had underdone an astonishing improvement.

One of the things I was told in the preliminaries was that my eyesight was so compromised that I should not have been driving at night. It was scary to learn that. I knew I was having some difficulties with glare, but apparently I was more at risk of having an accident than I ever dared imagine. It was humbling to learn that what I thought I was doing well I was actually doing poorly.

Later yesterday and into today I have marveled at the colors and clarity of leaves and flowers, the brightness of my phone’s screen, the blackness of newsprint. I was missing so very much, and I did not really know it. By this evening, I fear I am beginning to get used to the newness, and not noticing it. I am fighting that feeling because I liked the excitement of seeing everything in a new way.

In some ways, the joy of this vast improvement surpasses what I felt after cataract surgery itself. That’s probably because I didn’t have to go through a slower recovery period. The change was instant. The only earlier experience I can fully compare it with was when I first got glasses when we I was 12 or 13 years old and suddenly stars actually were pinpricks of light and glowing embers were more than a red-orange blob. Maybe what happened to me Monday took me back to a youthfulness that is in fact far beyond my capturing.

My experience reminds me that blindness is not simply a total lack of vision, but can also be cloudy, imperfect vision. I was walking (and driving!) through my life thinking I was seeing clearly, but I was wrong. It took a laser strike to bring me back to my senses (so to speak) and to realize not only what I had been missing but also to look carefully at everything I could now look at again and see anew.

I think a lot around us encourages us to perceive our surroundings through clouded eyes. It even tries to provide the cloud. I am troubled by those who do not seem to see things as clearly as I do. But then I wonder how clearly I see things. I try hard to learn about things that matter to me, to respect facts and truth, to speak what makes reasoned sense to me based upon my experience and knowledge. And then one day I am shocked to learn I may be a danger to myself and to others, a shock that should cause me to try harder to see things, including myself, for what they really are. Doing this is a life-long journey of discovery and reflection. I hope I never give in to any blindness I may realize I have and be content with just living with it.

Finally, I had never heard of PCO before I was diagnosed with it, which is surprising now that I’ve talked with so many people who’ve gone through the same thing. If you are reading this, and are experiencing a similar problem following cataract surgery, get it checked out. I’d love for you to enjoy the miracles I’ve enjoyed for the last day and a half.

And I am forever grateful.

Chaco Canyon Comment

In the summer of 2019, my wife and I spent a day visiting Chaco Canyon, guided by a woman from a museum in a nearby city. Although we have spent considerable time in America's desert southwest, it was our only visit to that particular site. I am no expert, and I have neither the patience nor the expertise to read and understand the hundreds of pages of technical material that has been assembled to defend the proposal to free a surrounding 10-mile zone so that minerals and oil may be extracted from that area. My comments will therefore not be of the type you are asking for.

I think the reason this and many other actions by the present administration to remove protected lands from protection troubles me is the noise that will result. Put another way, you are waring against quiet, against silence, against those places remaining on planet earth where a person can sit and listen and hear beyond nature's quiet and perhaps learn that there are things more important that money, development, and exploitation. Such listening to silence is a threat to a culture of wanting it all and being willing to do whatever it takes to get it all. Such contemplation may raise a question about what really matters to our generation as well as to generations that will follow us.

You know that places such as Chaco Canyon and its environs are held to be sacred by native peoples. I contend they are sacred to all Americans because they give us a chance to let ourselves think and feel for ourselves. I fear that that is exactly what many political leaders, particularly the current MAGA political leaders, do not want us to do. If we were free of the noise of mining and drilling and burning, not to mention of crass political ads and unending ads to trick us into buying ever more stuff, we might think about who we really are and how we really are one humanity living on one once-beautiful planet.

I am not a total romantic about all of this. Nature makes plenty of noise on its own, and it is hard to call everything that happens in nature beautiful. And we do need materials and energy in order to live. But when is enough enough, or even too much?

Sites like Chaco Canyon invite us to strip our conception of what we really need down to the bones. We need such places to save us from consuming ourselves to death. Please let it be as it is. We can afford to do that.