The glass in the grass: green

This old man canes his way
upon late March’s greening grass,
neither slow nor fast,

around and over lumps in earth’s carpet,

and the mini wetlands cradled between them.

He looks up toward his goal:

the paved parking lot beyond this green expanse

that separates it from the gravel trail to its north.

Maybe a hundred yards of earth,

a shortcut through spring.

He recalls the exhilaration of his childhood’s spring,

felt for all its confidence and hope.

Now above all else he fears falling.

But he needs to be here—

this sun, this air,

these birds singing spring into being on this grass.

Now! A new green—a shiny, flashy

glint of green—spikes his eyes.

He focuses just ahead where,

in the grass, a broken shard of a bottle

—a Coke bottle, the old kind?—

hides among the blades.

He stops, examines it and its surroundings.

Experience teaches that where there’s one glass sliver

there certainly lurk two and three and more.

As there are, as he knew there would be.

He winces: behind his eyes he sees

a barefoot child (not a care in the world!)

outrun their parents into the grass

only to stab their foot upon glass

and bleed and scream…

…and, the man hopes, to be comforted by love.

Calmed.

(He does not know that child.)

What will he do? For the good of that child

he will remove the glass from the grass.

He can balance three, maybe four, pieces

between his left hand’s thumb and fingers,

make his way to the parking lot,

then cross it to the trash can framed by parked cars.

Steadied by the cane in his right hand, he bends his lanky frame,

picks up first, one piece, then two more.

He clasps them as best he can,

then steps out—so carefully—maintaining

just the right amount of pressure on the hurt he carries.

Walking these last few yards he sees still more glass

strewn randomly, as if on purpose,

here and there in the grass along his way.

A car is parked on the lot’s near side,

motor running, person sitting at the wheel.

Will they notice me and wonder what on earth I’m doing?

Why, at my age, my cane and I are doing it?

Is not this cane problem enough for me, and my years?

On the far side two figures sit inside

another car flanking the trash can,

its rap deafening them to birds’ songs.

They must see him open the trash can’s cover

and drop something small and green into it.

Look at that strange old man.

Done, should he do more?

More glass is out there. He saw it.

If he has saved the child

from the cut of the glass he’s carried away,

their foot could still land on what he left behind.

Well, he couldn’t get it all even if he were

fifty years younger a man. No sense trying.

And anyway, he needs something to carry

all these pieces in. He can make only so many trips.

His car’s trash container is lined with a plastic bag.

He yanks it out, balls it in his left fist,

and carries it back across the lot and into the grass,

where he stops to wonder where

the glass he saw not a minute ago has gone.

How foolish, this old man!

No rightly-thinking one would do this.

But he would, and is—a lesser good deed

than some he might have done in younger years, he knows.

Yet a good deed, foolish as they can be.

He finds caches of shattered Coke bottle glass

scattered all around in small piles,

even the bottle’s bottom cradles its top,

as if buried together.

This park’s mine field is no accident.

He finds what he finds without going far—

he collects enough to make him feel good about his day

walking and enjoying spring,

asking how many he has left to enjoy

before spring and he disappear in the march of change and time.

He puts his retrieved green glass into the bag

with the candy wrappers already there,

and carries it all back to and through the lot,

passing slightly amused drivers,

and lowers it to the floor beneath the seat

the passenger would sit in if he had a passenger.

He drives home, where he feels just okay about his little good deed

as he deposits the plastic bag of glass and wrappings

into the trash can in his garage.

Will this old man’s way

save a child from at least one

of the dangers of life?

No one will ever know.

As this old man will never know who

will pick up after him, or what.

Broken.

Sometimes—he reflects to himself that evening

because the glass in the grass is his secret—

sometimes all he can do is pick up shards

and hope he's found enough of them

to save another from his pain.

(Keith Dean Myers)

A nation off-balance

One of my frightening surprises as I’ve aged has been the deterioration of my sense of balance. I have learned that it happens to many of us. It is a major reason older people fall.

Another frightening surprise is that I have aged into living in a nation that has lost its sense of balance. Our United States of America is at risk of falling, bringing about a political and social collapse more disastrous than any I might experience. 

There are many signs of our nation’s loss of equilibrium: We have no agreed-upon sources of news and information. We refuse to trust anyone but ourselves and people we know. We are bombarded daily by in-our-face demands that we do this, buy that, watch the other thing, follow this or that person, believe whatever, go here or there…it never ends. Who do we believe? Which way should we turn?

Our social mores are on their heads; for example, I might unintentionally offend someone because I assume their gender by how they look, act, or sound. What used to seem easy is now difficult.

Factors beyond our immediate control are contributing to our national imbalance. COVID’s ripping of every fibre of our national fabric and wildly destructive weather are two very obvious disturbers of our stability.

Then there are forces that deliberately try to keep us off balance, often using things beyond our control (such as COVID and wild weather) as launchpads for their destabilizing messages. Primary among these forces are the promoters of unfounded conspiracy theories—most famously, QANON.

Advertisers use what people generally report makes us happy—friendship, love, acceptance, security, etc.—to try to convince us that buying their wares will get us those things. They refashion the sources of true human happiness into commodities, tempting us to forget that, once our basic survival needs are met, “the best things in life are free.”

Politicians and political parties want us to think only our own particular priorities and desires matter to them. They relentlessly focus on what they think and tell us we want without acknowledging the legitimacy of others’ needs.

Religions, particularly when marching lock-step with those politicians and parties, promise individual salvation apart from a saved—that is, a liberated—social order. We are encouraged to believe and live as if what we want can only be ours at the expense of others and our common good. We lose sight of our context and try to make our way through life like balance-compromised, blindfolded people struggling to walk a straight line.

Are there insights we could gain as a people from my experience dealing with my own off-balancedness?

My out-of-kilter balance keeps me constantly on my guard when I walk. My first priority is to protect myself from falling, so I tend to play it safe. Often the things I do are not the right things. It is easy to slouch while I walk and to keep my eyes on the ground, at my feet. But I know it is much better for me to stand up as straight as I can and focus on what’s ahead of me without losing sight of what’s around me. I have to work at walking upright if I want to get to where I want to go. My eyes must be open and my all my senses remain attuned to my immediate environment.

A society in fear of falling arms itself with guns and other weapons for “self-defense.” It goes for the jugular of those who differ from the majority or even from its loudest and most toxic members, eager to deny any right to another opinion. It grants power to individuals and institutions that promise the most safety the fastest, even when those promises have proven time and again to lead to misery and loss of liberty.

Many have even begun to doubt democracy itself, a doubt fed by anti-democratic regimes around the world. The Republican Party in particular seems intent on replacing democracy with one-man/one-party rule—rule by personal or party fiat that would not be subject to the will of the people. Were that to happen, we would no longer be a free, diverse, and democratic nation.

To restore equilibrium, our country must be honest with itself about itself, stand straight, and acknowledge the reality it is living in and entering. We can begin by listening carefully to one another, especially to those whose life experiences are different from our own. We can stop calling people who challenge us names, consigning them to categories (“liberal, conservative, socialist, racist,” etc.) that deny the richness of their whole personalities. We can realize that no one is perfect, no one is without fault, all of us have had some part in our destabilizing.

Most important, we must reclaim the promise of America, imperfectly as it is too-often kept, that all are created equal and all have a right to life and liberty and yes, even to the pursuit of happiness, while living together as one people. We may need to find new ways of doing government of, by, and for the people—for all the people—but we have done that before, and we can do it again.

Advice for our nation in the new year

It's not easy to read the book of the biblical prophet Zechariah during the Christmas season, but that's the choice I made. Somehow, it's felt right.

A couple of days ago, reading chapter 7, I came upon what is surely the core of God's will for God's nation, Israel, as it was rebuilding after the exile. Here it is, Zechariah 7:9-10:

Thus says the Lord of hosts: "Render true judgments, show kindness and mercy to one another; do not oppress the widow, the orphan, the alien, or the poor; and do not devise evil in your hearts against one another."

I hope one does not have to be "believer" to hear those words as appropriate for us as a people in these challenging times. Take some time to ponder them, and what they might mean for you as an individual and for the United States in 2022. 

Happy New Year!

This Christmas I am particularly drawn to the carol, “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear.” It begins by picturing a “world in solemn stillness” first hearing the angels’ song. There follows the claim that the angels are still singing their song, but now to the world’s “sad and lowly plains,” deafened by its “Babel-sounds.”

The situation gets worse: “sin and strife…two thousand years of wrong…war on earth” block the song from being heard. After a plea for silence, the lyrics focus on individuals whose forms are bent low under “life’s crushing load,” who make their way through life “with painful steps and slow.”

And just at that moment, when all seems lost, the poet calls upon those weighed down by the burdens of life to look up, for hope is coming, rescue is on the way. For once, they can rest, they dare sit down at the side of the road, and listen, really listen to the song that persists in being sung, despite all.

Finally, the promise: the time of peace , seen by the prophets of every generation, is coming. It lies ahead of us all, especially ahead of those of the human family who have never known any real rest.

Now comes the punch line. When the peace of the angel song comes, “the whole world (will) give back the song, which now the angels sing.” The world will repeat, echo, respond by singing back to the heavens, “Peace on the earth, good will to all.” And, I suggest, heaven will be pleased.

The fulfillment of that promise seems far off, perhaps as far off as I’ve known it in my now fairly long lifetime. There’s little evidence the world is singing anything like the angel song these days and years. Yet the song is still out there.

Perhaps the most important thing I can do with my life now is to be sure the song I sing with my life is the song the angels sang that first Christmas and, I trust, are singing still. I need to hush the noise and strife inside of me, listen to what’s above us all, and do my best to live in response to those holy lyrics every single day.

The words are by Edmund Sears. Here they are, though slightly altered:

It came upon the midnight clear, that glorious song of old,

from angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold:

"Peace on the earth, good will to all, from heaven’s all-gracious King.”

The world in solemn stillness lay, to hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven skies they come, with peaceful wings unfurled,

and still their heavenly music floats o'er all the weary world.

Above its sad and lowly plains they bend on hovering wing,

and ever o'er its Babel-sounds the blessed angels sing.

Yet with the woes of sin and strife the world has suffered long—

beneath the heavenly hymn have rolled two thousand years of wrong.

And we at war on earth hear not the tidings that they bring.

O, hush the noise and cease the strife to hear the angels sing!

And you, beneath life's crushing load, whose forms are bending low—

who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow—

look now, for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing.

O, rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing!

For lo, the days are hastening on, by prophets seen of old,

when, with the ever-circling years shall come the time foretold—

when peace shall over all the earth its ancient splendors fling,

and the whole world give back the song, which now the angels sing.

Merry Christmas

"To apply a rule..."

“Pedantry and mastery are opposite attitudes toward rules. To apply a rule to the letter, rigidly, unquestioningly, in cases where it fits and in cases where it does not fit, is pedantry ... To apply a rule with natural ease, with judgment, noticing the cases where it fits, and without ever letting the words of the rule obscure the purpose of the action or the opportunities of the situation, is mastery. -George Polya, mathematician (13 Dec 1887-1985)

This quote, from a recent A.Word.a.Day post, really hit me when I read it, and still rattles around in my head.

If a mathematician can say this, perhaps judges and others whose job it is to interpret and enforce the law, could, too. It could be a dangerous proposition…who knows what it might unleash? On the other hand, do we not get frustrated when something done “by the book” counters our deeper sense of what is right or just?

It made me think of Jesus’s attitude toward law and tradition and “the way things have always been,” which turned out to be fatally dangerous for him.

What do you think of Polya’s observation?

No Brandon on that tree

 

Let’s go, Brandon! has become a popular slogan among those who persist in believing Joe Biden stole the 2020 election from Donald Trump, and other such foolishness. If you don’t know what it means, I’ll just say this: it’s a substitute (a “minced oath,” to use a phrase I have just learned) for as derogatory and offensive a three-word epithet as one might hurl in English against Joe Biden as a person.

Around Thanksgiving my spam filter caught an email from an outfit selling Let’s go Brandon!-inscribed Christmas tree ornaments. This “limited edition ornament is made of ceramic and makes for an excellent stocking stuffer, plus a few joyful laughs.” All that for 50% off during the “Christmas Hot Sale.” Not to mention a “30-day money back guarantee.”

To hang on your Christmas tree! That’s right, your CHRISTmas tree, as in JESUS CHRIST’s tree.

People can, and do, put decorations not having much to do with Jesus or Christmas on their trees. For years, my wife has insisted on hanging a Pittsburgh Steelers’ Franco Harris ornament on our tree. I keep peace in our household by accepting it in silence. Besides, there is the matter of that “immaculate reception,” as all Steeler fans know.

But Let’s go Brandon! on a Christmas tree first puzzles and finally angers me. It just doesn’t belong there, even as a similar obscenity about former President Trump, whether in code not, would not belong there.

There is no room on a Christmas tree for the denigration of another human being for any reason, just as there was no room in the heart of Jesus for belittling anyone.

For Christians, Christmas is about the embodiment of God in human flesh and human affairs in the particular, historic person, Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus’s life, values, practices, and teachings reveal what God intended for us all from the start, and intends for us still.

Although Jesus did display anger, frustration, and disappointment with many whom he encountered, whether disciples, or the curious, or even his self-identified enemies, off the top of my head, I cannot remember Jesus ever cursing another human being. A fig tree, yes. But another human being? I don’t think so.

Neither did Jesus ever seem to fear anyone. Perhaps that is why he never needed to curse them. Could it be that Let’s go Brandon! is a slogan born of fear—fear of Biden’s success, fear of our being wrong?

Practically our entire society embraces Christmas, if not for its theological meaning, then for broader goods and goals that it seems to signify. I have no problem with that. Once a year we all are invited to recognize one who models for us the kind of human being most of us know in our hearts that we should be in our living. For a brief moment we hope that we and our kindred might one day be and live that way. And when we inevitably backslide—usually before the tree comes down— the hope is remembered as it was felt just long enough to know it was there, is possible, and is worth pursuing.

To create and market a decoration for a Christmas tree that curses another human being is oxymoronic behavior. It suggests our merely political divides are so interwoven with our misappropriated religious convictions that we cannot see the humanity of a person with whom we differ. It is to deny Christ, and Christmas, too. I cannot imagine any authentic follower of Jesus putting Let’s go Brandon! on their Christmas tree, or responding to it with the “joyful laugh” its purveyors promise.

I can imagine the baby Jesus rolling over in his manger at the very idea of it.

(If you’ve ordered yours, take heart: you have 30 days to return it. But return it before it spends time on your tree, not after. That would be stealing.)

Beyond my understanding

 

I keep trying to understand—honestly—the Supreme Court declining to consider the new Texas anti-abortion law, thus allowing it to go into effect.

Far wiser and more knowledgeable people than I have weighed in on the matter. But because of the bubble I live in, I have not seen a considered and thoughtful defense of the 5-4 decision, if one is to be made. Maybe someone can help me.

In any case, I cannot understand why the Court’s majority felt it could not disallow a state’s law that does not allow the state itself to seek out and apprehend people who break that law. Instead the law calls for citizens—Texas-armed, no doubt— to sue those they believe may be breaking the law, and if they win, to get up to $10,000 from them.

That’s not too weird for five of our esteemed justices to see through, and throw out? Apparently it’s too weird to justify, and so they offer no justification. Instead, they hide behind their imposing building’s marble facade. We are increasingly governed by people who feel they are not accountable to the citizens they are supposed to be serving. (Lots of proof of that right here in Ohio.)

I guess to the Court’s majority nothing’s too weird if it promises to “stop abortions,” because when it comes to stopping abortions, anything goes—ironically in the state that strives to be at the top in terms of guns but is near bottom in terms of children’s well-being. Unborn children are worth every protection Texas law-makers can dream up, after which they become easy targets.

To keep women from making the most private of decisions regarding their personal welfare, Texas law-makers aborted a crucial norm of the rule of law in its most basic form. And five Supreme Court justices went along with them without the slightest sign of interest. I cannot understand it—honestly.