Christianity

Little Donkey Sunday

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Little Donkey Sunday

Little Donkey Sunday: this is what pastor Dan Caldwell at the Sacred Heart congregation in Bloomington, Indiana called it.  Dan suggested this was a better name for the Sunday before Easter than Palm Sunday.  I think he is right. Dan explained the waving of palms was mentioned only in John’s Gospel, but the picture of Jesus mounting a little donkey or colt is offered each of the gospels.

The parade for Jesus took place on the east side of Jerusalem, coming in from the Mount of Olives.  The crowd gathered and shouted their hosannas.  Jesus, feet dragging the ground, was riding a small donkey.  What a picture!  Is this a sign of conquest?  On the other side of town, the Roman legions were riding their stallions and marching in columns to display their strength. The Romans were there to control any disturbances during Passover observances.  One featured a man on a little donkey, a humble king as portrayed by the prophet Zechariah (Zechariah 9:9); the other was a spectacle of might, it was the military power of empire.

Over fifty years ago, my friend, Bill Wiley-Kellermann wrote of these two parades. Bill reminded us then – and now – of these two choices.  People of faith face these today.  Two divergent understandings of power, strength and right. Some like Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth pray for “overwhelming violence” against the people of Iran. He marries the strength of empire with a half-baked-Christian-theology that suggests faith is defended by Patriot Missiles. Missiles that smash the homes and lives of innocent people, killing thousands, even children, what power do they display?  On the other side of our nation there are the little donkey people.  More humble, even silly, these people march in No Kings demonstrations. 

Pastor Dan has it right. He helps me as I struggle with the many empires of my world.  I struggle to place my faith in the love of neighbor demonstrated by Jesus, riding on a little donkey.  I struggle with more than empires of national or world politics.  There are the empires of the social service industry, of university leaders who succumb to racism and narrow ideology, of social-media-billionaires with algorithms that do harm, or of religious denominational authorities.

In our religious denominational empires, that come replete with bishops, general secretaries, synod execs, and superintendents there are too few who seem to remember the power of the little donkey.  Instead, not all – but too many, march into town parading new structures and corporate plans that are detached from common sense and grass roots relationships.  There is little or no listening to those members in the pew. With top-down stylings and business-shaped designs, they hunger to consolidate power. Frightened by a loss of market share, these religious leaders miss the glory all-around of little donkeys ridden by the faithful.

Let me close with Mary Oliver’s poem “The Poet Thinks of the Donkey”

On the outskirts of Jerusalem
the donkey waited.
Not especially brave, or filled with understanding,
he stood and waited.

How horses, turned out into the meadow,
   leap with delight!
How doves, released from their cages,
   clatter away, splashed with sunlight.

But the donkey, tied to a tree as usual, waited.
Then he let himself be led away.
Then he let the stranger mount.

Never had he seen such crowds!
And I wonder if he at all imagined what was to happen.
Still, he was what he had always been: small, dark, obedient.

I hope, finally, he felt brave.
I hope, finally, he loved the man who rode so lightly upon him,
as he lifted one dusty hoof and stepped, as he had to, forward.
+ Mary Oliver

+++++++

Too often, I am “tethered by the tree as usual.” That tree is named EMPIRE.  I miss the little donkeys and their riders all around me.  Might I be brave, along with the donkey.

That Which Cannot Be Razed

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That Which Cannot Be Razed

Admittedly naïve, the Christians at Broadway Church in Indianapolis in 1986 wrote: “As followers of Jesus Christ, responding to God’s love, our mission as the people of Broadway Church is to be a multicultural, Christian community that in its ministry seeks, welcomes, and values ALL people.” We knew it was a challenging aspiration, none-the-less the choice was to be a church that said it welcomed everyone – and acted like it.  No matter. Everyone.  

That congregation hasn’t done it perfectly, but over the decades it has claimed this mission.  Still does.  Yes, we were naïve, about our society, our world and the human condition… or were we? 

A stone church building with a tall tower and large windows, surrounded by trees and greenery.

Life would teach many lessons, some hard ones.  The power of tribalism and fear-stoked resentment has too often overridden respect for all. It has even undermined alliances among western nations.  Today we see bigotry and discrimination, dressed up as ICE agents with masked faces and camouflaged outfits, terrorizing our cities.  Such threatening realities appear to trample on that simple mission statement. 

Naïve?  Surely so.  Wrong as a witness to the love your neighbor message of Jesus?  Not so then, not so, now. The Apostle Paul wrote of this in the earliest years of the church: “In Christ’s family there can be no division into Jew and non-Jew, slave and free, male and female. Among us you are all equal. That is, we are all in a common relationship with Jesus Christ. Also, since you are Christ’s family, then you are Abraham’s famous “descendant,” heirs according to the covenant promises.” (3:28-29 as rendered in The Message).

Twenty years ago, columnist David Brooks wrote of the coming death of multiculturalism. https://www.nytimes.com/2006/04/27/opinion/the-death-of-multiculturalism.html. Brooks spoke of what he saw as the excesses of multiculturalism where diversity was too easily celebrated and sometimes prevented true openness to all voices.  He predicted multiculturalism would pass and we would see a “rebirth of liberal American nationalism.”  I wonder what Brooks would say today of the trajectory he offered then? 

Whether one points to the multiculturalism displayed in the Ruth and Naomi story, or to the multiple ways Jesus of Nazareth broke and transformed deep patterns of race, class or religious exclusion, or to the Pentecost events, multiculturalism and faithful Christian practices are intertwined.

At Broadway, shortly after that mission statement was written, a longtime member told me that grand old building of stone and stained glass might one day be gone, it might be razed, but the gift of knowing others who differed in a community of acceptance could never be erased.  Perhaps that congregation at Broadway was not so naïve.  It continues today as faithful to its mission.  So do thousands of other gatherings and activities in the name of Jesus around the world.  Naïve?  Perhaps, it appears so, in the short term.  However, as Eugene Peterson suggested, Christians are called to “a long obedience in the same direction.”

Little Boys with Nuclear Toys

~ philipamerson

The Spector of Little Boys with Nuclear Toys

As I watch and listen to Donald Trump, Pete Hegseth, Stephen Miller, J.D. Vance, Marco Rubio and many others, I find myself mumbling “We have little boys with nuclear toys.” There is war in the Middle East, focused primarily on Iran, but also overwhelming nearby Gulf States and Lebanon.  We watch in horror as the war drags on in Ukraine and can’t comprehend the destruction in Gaza. 

Always quick to justify our actions we point to others who find their identities through evil actions.  Moral decision making is flattened to either them or us and violence becomes the only tool at hand.  There are so many terrorists: Hamas, Revolutionary Guard, ISIS, Hizballah, Al-Qaida or the Latin American drug cartels.  The little boys with Tomahawk missile toys leap into the fray.  They proclaim they are showing our nation how to “man up!”  Core values and truly ‘acting like a gentleman’ is being trashed in the corridors of power.

With little or no regard for the complex unfolding of history, or intelligence (military or otherwise), we watch one debacle after another.  Trust is destroyed with allies, cities like Minneapolis or Chicago see trust for local law enforcement sabotaged and more than 170 children are blasted away at a girl’s school in Iran.

Adam Serwer’s “The Cruelty is the Point” was published five years ago.  It was a warning and a window into a more positive alternative. Serwer argues that Donald Trump’s language and behaviors (the racism, bullying, January 6th insurrection, anti-immigrant actions, misogyny) are broadly misunderstood.  Trump is not the primary cause of our current challenges; rather, only a symptom of a deeper malady.  Christians have a category for this: it is SIN. 

Further, this sin, this evil is beyond that of any one individual’s moral failings.  Something more profound is at play. Individuals matter, of course. Something all too widely misunderstood and discounted is also at play. We are wrestling with our social, corporate, institutional, and cultural sins – not carried by individuals alone.  It is no wonder that the “little boys” and their followers argue there is no such thing as social justice.  Yes, they seek to avoid the law for their personal actions, but it is more critical to see there is social immorality and illegality as well. It is no wonder these little boys and their allies suggest that whole groups can be labeled as cockroaches, as dirty, as criminals. It is no wonder persons can be targeted soley on the basis of skin color or language. These social sins require a corporate confession, an admission of responsibility and a change in more than an individual’s heart. They call for social equity and justice in our institutions, our culture and in the wholeness of our moral vision.

Fr. Richard Rohr writes helpfully about our failure to speak clearly about sin:

https://cac.org/daily-meditations/collective-sin-and-evil/

These are frightening times indeed.  There is a way forward – past the sin in which we all are entrapped.  The little boys with nuclear toys appear to gain pleasure from all they can destroy, whether through warfare, undermining our courts and justice systems, estranging international allies, cutting of health and food supplies formerly offered through USAID and more.

There is a better way – a way of repentance and respect for all.  We Christians pray for it every time we pray the prayer Jesus taught, which begins “Our Father.” This is a social prayer as it continues Thy Kingdom Come Thy Will Be Done On Earth.

Experts and other Obsoletes

~ philipamerson

Experts and other Obsoletes

Expertise and professionalism have shaped much of our social and economic world over the past century. Experts and professionals have their place – after all, my adult life has been spent playing one, or both, of these roles. Still, I chuckle at Mark Twain’s quip “an expert is an ordinary fellow from another town.” Later Geroge Bernard Shaw wrote the oft quoted line “Those who can do and those who can’t, teach.”

Now, at eighty, with nearly sixty years ordained as a pastor, administration and teaching behind me, I ponder the role of expertise and professionalism. I wonder if the role of “expert” and “professional” has been overvalued. A good consultant can be of great assistance. I know and have benefitted. Even so, much of professionalism and expertise is facing obsolesence. We are at the edge dramatically altered reality. Artificial intelligence is already radically shifting our assumptions and social stratifications.

Over my years of ministry, I have often been amazed by the authority and deference given to experts. Church experts on congregational life and pastoral ministry have brought their advice. It is often provided by consultants with minimal experience serving as pastor, or as one who has led a congregation.

These are good, well-meaning people, often talented and full of research that comes from arenas outside the life in a parish. However, as I have watched, I have been aware that they do not know, what they don’t know. They don’t know the reality of standing in the hospital room as the matriarch dies, the doctor not yet there, and the family looks for guidance and prayer. They have not been with parents whose child has been fatally shot, or who has committed a horrific crime, waiting for the sheriff or state trooper to confirm the tragic news. They have not faced a week in the parish when the boiler fails, there are three funerals to perform, a wedding coming on Saturday, a sermon to prepare and a church leader has been publicly accused of spousal abuse. They do not know what they do not know.

Experts function in a world of “let me help you analyze your situation and offer counsel with my preset categories.” These are often based on business, biological or cultural models. Meanwhile pastors live in ‘the overwhelming mix of emerging and overlapping situation(s).’

Often, I have appreciated the wisdom of a bishop with years of experience as a parish pastor. It makes a difference. I wonder, what if bishops served for a term and then returned to parish work? We could use this talent. This was a pattern in the former Evangelical United Brethren that merged with Methodists to become the United Methodist Church, where now bishops are elected for a lifetime. I watch as talented persons climb the ladders of leadership in the church, becoming experts on many things apart from leading a parish. Understandably something critical is being diminished, even lost. Often what is lost is the ability to value the talents of the members of a congregation. Often what is lost is a more democratic and community-building understanding of church.

This dilemma is not one faced by Mainline churches alone. A young couple I married a few years ago visited with me recently telling me of their experience in a large megachurch in a nearby city. They spoke of meeting the preaching pastor after a service and when they said, “We would like to welcome you to our home for a meal,” the preacher replied, “Oh, I am not that kind of pastor.”

Such specialization, such expertise, has limits and AI will expose these – sooner than most of us know. In the years ahead, when information about “situations” can be gained by, and speeded up by, using the powers of artificial intelligence, who will stand by the family in the hospital room? Or who will sit with the young woman in jail, or who will have gained understanding of the family dynamics often at play in weddings? Who will look in the eyes of other humans, hold their hands, pray the prayer that starts the healing? There won’t be time to login or call the consultant.

The future will require connectors, community builders. Leaders will need to convene and consecrate more than consult.

Shoveling Alone

~ philipamerson

Shoveling Alone

Shoveling alone. It is the story in almost all our communities in the United States. The poorest of the poor are shuffled to the edges of our economy and end up living on the streets — or in jail!

As I turned the shovel in Bloomington on a recent Wednesday, at the groundbreaking for our new Beacon center, I realized I was alone in that moment… no one on either side… but so many had gone ahead, and others would follow. Is it true in your community as well?

Not just on a given afternoon but across the years, I knew others in the faith community and beyond, who didn’t attend this groundbreaking… but who had ‘turned the soil’ of change in many places. They have been at this turning the soil, and turning our souls, in the past and will be in the future. In the process our souls are returned to an original place of hope and sharing among all.

I believe our local faith community, and others whereever you live, will do more in the months ahead, not just for places like Beacon. We must do this because our challenges cannot be fully handled by any one social service agency. Beacon, and similar agencies are a good, but insufficient response.

Bloomington Mayor Thomson is right, a comprehensive response to the challenge of persons without shelter is needed. Rise up now, faith communities and others, show more muscle, join in to assist the Emergency Winter Shelters, programs like Heading Home, the Recovery Alliance, New Leaf/New Life. Offer more mutual respect and support for all! The massive cuts to Medicaid will touch us all and especially the poor. Emergency rooms will be more crowded, retirement homes and clinics will close, healthcare will be rationed and delayed. Time for more to pick up the shovel and turn the soil toward the planting of new seeds of hope.

“When did we see you…?” the scriptures ask. “When you did it to the least among you” comes the answer. I live with the firm knowledge this shelter, even with a “better” setting where healthcare, employment assistance, public safety, addiction recovery and other resources, are provided is but a small beginning. It is not THE answer. Still, it is a needed step. Many can and will raise needed funds, offer to volunteer, and challenge public policy to do better… in God’s name.

The road is long and filled with twists and turns, social detours, myths about addiction, mental health and blindness to our own complicity in the “social welfare” practices in this country, and the misdirected, cruel political impulses and assault of so many in power in this time. Our culture lives with the myth of hero and victim. It is the “Hero Journey” story that Jung and Campbell identified as embedded in all we perceive as possible. It is so fully ingrained in our psyche and social systems that, sadly, we turn others into “clients” rather than “neighbors” and are more comfortable in speaking of THEY rather than with US.

It will take time — this turning the soil. Still as a Christian I recall the hymn refrain “We are not alone, for God is with us.” ‘Naive’ you say, of course it appears that way, of course. Others are using their constructions of false gods to continue cruelty. I know. That is why those who have theologies more tied to the larger, historic faith story must now speak the truth, afresh. Until some have seen a life changed, a person healed from addiction and communities moving away from cruel patterns of greed and domination, we are stuck. And, until a community is seen pulling together to solve such challenges, many will call me naive. I prefer to call it our shared hopes, foundational for the future — that we can care for one another. Check it out. This is a core teaching of Christianity and other great faith traditions. Interdependence is more essential to humanity’s long-term survival than independence.

Paul Farmer, remarkable physician and founder of Partners in Health (PIH) understood his life’s work as “The Long Defeat.” He said, “I have fought the long defeat and brought other people on to fight the long defeat, and I’m not going to stop because we keep losing. Now I actually think sometimes we may win. I don’t dislike victory. … You know, people from our background-like you, like most PIH-ers, like me-we’re used to being on a victory team, and actually what we’re really trying to do in PIH is to make common cause with the losers. Those are two very different things. We want to be on the winning team, but at the risk of turning our backs on the losers, no, it’s not worth it. So you fight the long defeat.” [From Tracy Kidder, “Mountains Beyond Mountains: The Quest of Dr. Paul Farmer, a Man Who Would Cure the World.”]

So, pick up a shovel, write a check, welcome the stranger, say ‘hello’, ask the stranger her/his name, smile… and keep doing it in your community, whereever you are. Keep at it, even when times are tough. My friend Wes Jackson put it this way, “If you think your life’s work can be accomplished in your lifetime, you are not thinking big enough!”

Corn-Bred

~ philipamerson ~ 1 Comment

Corn-Bred

I’m a Hoosier, Indiana born and bred, on most July Sundays I can be found at church. On the best Sundays, the benediction ended, I then head for sweet corn at home from the farmer’s market.  Bought the day before from a young Amish teen in the City Hall parking lot.  Straw hat, gray shirt, grayer suspenders, blond curls and a sneaky, shiny smile. From down near Paoli most likely, I surmise – the corn and the smile.  “Picked this morning” he offers. “In the moonlight?” I tease, in return. We trade a chortle. The grin and banter worth the entire purchase price alone; but I win, as I carry off a half-dozen ears.  “He smiles with his eyes, he does.” I heard it growing up, like him I bet.

Early July, Indiana sweet corn is extra-scrumptious; I prescribe as it a necessary antidote to the extra-boneheaded politicians who now scour the state dressed in a toxic religious wardrobe. Deceptions attached to their bigotry like the sown-on-shadow of Peter Pan. This summer sweet corn is better. Much needed offset to the racism, so appreciated in the summer heat of ’25.  

Worship was delicious too this Sabbath. A needed cure offered, beginning with soaring music.  A fanfare for a refurbished organ followed by hymn texts full of ancient, hard-won truths. The anthem is fetched from the apothecary of faith. “It is well with my soul” lingers still. Take that, you many poisons of the soul, you dividers of a nation.

The stage is set by the liturgy – we are called to hope and not despair; and, then a sermon, chasing down our shared deeper story.  Listen again to Naaman’s healing. His trust in his own power, his military hardware, is insufficient to bring peace.  No, no, no, empathy is not “a bug in the system,” Mr. Musk.  Empathy marks true humanity.  A “healed femur is the sign of the beginning of civilization” Margaret Mead once noted.  The wonderful irony of the powerful finding healing and justice by finally heeding the counsel of a young girl.  She brings a four-star general to his knees and his senses… and more than an outer leprosy is healed.  She did it well, both the young girl and the preacher this Sunday.  We are reminded that interdependence is more to be valued than independence.

It’s corn-bred wisdom that hubris and arrogance will end in dust. True in Elisha’s time and a lesson to be relearned now. God’s preference is for the small and marginal ones. The narrative is told over and again.  Let those with ears-to-hear, listen.  Too bad uncle Donald was on the golf course and missed learning how his story will end.  The closing hymn offers again this poetry of hope. Then I head home to sweet corn and a nap.

O God of every nation, Of every race and land,

Redeem the whole creation With your almighty hand. 

Where hate and fear divide us  And bitter threats are hurled,

In love and mercy guide us  And heal our strife torn world.

Rain begins as we walk home… “good for the sweet corn,” I think...

Corn-Bred

~ philipamerson

Corn-Bred

I’m a Hoosier, Indiana born and bred, on most July Sundays I can be found at church. On the best Sundays, the benediction ended, I then find sweet corn from the farmer’s market.  Bought the day before from a young Amish teen in the City Hall parking lot.  Straw hat, gray shirt, grayer suspenders, blond curls and a sneaky, shiny smile. From down near Paoli most likely, I surmise – the corn and the smile.  “Picked this morning” he offers. “In the moonlight?” I tease, in return. We trade a chortle. The grin and banter worth the entire purchase price alone; but I win, as I carry off a half-dozen ears.  “He smiles with his eyes, he does.” I heard growing up, like him I bet.

Early July, Indiana sweet corn is extra-scrumptious; I prescribe as it a necessary antidote to the extra-boneheaded politicians who now scour the state dressed in a toxic religious wardrobe, attached to their bigotry like the sown-on-shadow of Peter Pan. This summer sweet corn is better. Much needed offset the racism, appreciated in the heat of ’25.  

Worship was delicious too this Sabbath. A needed cure offered, beginning with soaring music.  A fanfare from refurbished organ followed by hymn texts full of ancient, hard-won truths. The anthem is fetched from the apothecary of faith. “It is well with my soul” lingers still. Take that, you many poisons of the soul, you dividers of a nation.

The stage is set by the liturgy – we are called to hope and not despair; and, then a sermon, chasing down our shared deeper story.  Listen again to Naaman’s healing. His trust in his own power, his military hardware, is insufficient to bring peace.  No, no, no, empathy is not “a bug in the system,” Mr. Musk.  Empathy marks true humanity.  A “healed femur is the sign of the beginning of civilization” Margaret Mead noted.  The wonderful irony of the powerful finding healing and justice by finally heeding the counsel of a young girl.  She brings a four-star general to his senses… and more than an outer leprosy is healed.  She did it well, both the young girl and the preacher.  We are reminded that interdependence is more to be valued than independence.

It’s corn-bred wisdom that hubris and arrogance will end in dust.  True in Elisha’s time and a lesson to be relearned now. God’s preference for the small and marginal ones. The narrative is told over and again.  Let those with ears-to-hear, listen.  Too bad uncle Donald was on the golf course and missed learning how his story will end.  The closing hymn offers again this poetry of hope. Then I head home to sweet corn and a nap.

O God of every nation, Of every race and land,

Redeem the whole creation With your almighty hand. 

Where hate and fear divide us  And bitter treats are hurled,

In love and mercy guide us  And heal our strife torn world.

Rain begins as we walk home… “good for the sweet corn,” I think...

Sickness Unto Death

~ philipamerson ~ 1 Comment

Sickness Unto Death

Philip Amerson                                              May 1, 2025

Hope, when joined with mutual respect, becomes the oxygen supply for the lungs of a healthy democracy. In these troubled times, 19th Century Danish Philosopher Søren Kierkegaard offers perspective, a challenge, and a way beyond suffocating despair. In his classic “Sickness Unto Death,” this Christian theologian speaks of despair as a sin. Despair is, he suggests, a sin even worse than death. The reader is counseled to find the small pathways ahead, to persist, even when tempted to be captured in the clutches of fear and doubt – even when tempted to be held hostage to despair.  While anxiety may be unavoidable; Kierkegaard argues life calls us to continue forward, step by step, with whatever small light available.

Fear and disrespect are endemic in our nation. There is a tariff on HOPE. Many national and state officials are intent on destroying our “Commons” – the institutional trust established over the past two centuries. They act in ways to paralyze, to control, to tie us in contemporary knots of despair. Normality, civility, and decency are submerged in autocratic surges washing across our society.

This deluge is intended to overwhelm, to control, to undermine.  Such a “flooding the zone” strategy comes ceaselessly at us and from many tributaries: threats to the funding and governance of our universities: ending humanitarian aid to the poorest in our world; closing of scientific research necessary for public health; attacks on the judiciary and law firms; the deconstruction of a free and independent press; pressures on elected officials that leave one U.S. Senator saying “we are all afraid”; and, at base, there is the undoing of the personal constitutional rights for ordinary citizens and anxious refugees. These all coincide with what can be identified as practiced strategies from an autocratic playbook, one that has been tested and proven effective in other nations.

Alongside this national deluge of intolerance, the Indiana Legislature ended its recent session passing bills that can only be understood as a war on health care, on public education and on the poor. Indiana Senate Bill 289 was adopted as an “anti-DEI measure.” Touted as “bringing balance” to the teaching of history, civics and the social sciences, it instead is designed to censor, punish, place a chilling effect over public school districts or university curricula. It is a threat to any who dare depart from the ‘official truth’ presumed by those in power. It is an effort deny the tragic realities of racial, economic, religious, and sexual discrimination in our past and to end discussion of systemic economic disparities that continue.  Limits to funding Medicaid and public health resources will have devastating consequences on the poor in the state, delaying and denying needed care.

Persons without shelter in Indiana can now be placed in jail and/or face a $500 fine for “camping on the streets”! To add insult to injury, the final draft of the state’s budget contained a Trojan Horse, with the insertion, without public input, calling for “productivity reviews” of university faculty. It also included dramatically altered board governance structures for Indiana University giving the governor power to select all the university board members.

Apart from such legislation, other efforts to upend the truth and distort reality are astonishing. Indiana Lieutenant Governor, Micah Beckwith, posted a recent video celebrating what he misleadingly calls a “great compromise” made at the 1787 Constitutional Convention. Beckwith asserts the decision to count persons held as slaves as 3/5ths human (as property) was “a great move forward that led to the abolishment of slavery.” He turns history on its head, ignores the resulting decades of abuse, lynchings, and systemic discrimination. He quite literally whitewashes the dehumanization of slavery, the segregation that followed with Jim Crowe laws, mortgage redlining and the enduring systemic discrimination. Beckwith attempts to tell us that “what is up is down and what is true is false.” He ignores the tragic reality of more than a million men killed or severely wounded in the bloody U. S. Civil War and undercuts the Thirteenth, Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments to the constitution passed to assure the rights for all and designed to undergird equality. 

A good friend recently said, “For the first time in my adult life, I am embarrassed to be a Hoosier and related to Indiana University.”  Referring to the deluge of discriminatory initiatives taken by the governor and state legislature, he was also noting, with sadness, a compliant university administration, that has over and again failed to support academic freedom or stand against the bigotry of supercharged bullies. My friend spoke his sadness over the growing and blatant displays of racism and intolerance. Even so, despite such recent efforts, my friend said he was not giving up or dropping out.

Yes, these are unsettling times. The drift – make that the flood – toward intolerance, deception, and fascism is upon us.  We dare not hide or take cover in some false cocoon of isolation, thinking we can somehow choose to avoid the sin of despair.

During the recent Little 500 Weekend in Bloomington horrible, racist posts were placed on social media. They spoke of “the smell of welfare” and “turning Bloomington’s Kirkwood Avenue into Atlanta.”  There was more racist language, much worse than this, designed to encourage bigotry and foster white nationalism. These days such social media posts are likely generated by bots, foreign and domestic. They are designed to inflame passions and make false claims about marginalized others and are intentionally framed to spread fear and do harm.

Those of us who have the privileges accompanying “safe” racial identities, or our education, or other accidents of history dare not give in to despair.  As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. put it “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.” King was not simply suggesting all our histories and futures are connected and interdependent; he is also saying the struggles for civil rights for everyone must not end.  There continues to be work that needs to be done and injustices to be addressed.

Kirkegaard’s insights 175 years ago still ring true: despair that immobilizes is worse than death. Anxiety is a human given, but despair is a sin. Eleanor Roosevelt proposed “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Social scientists W. I. and Dorothy Thomas offered that “What we perceive to be real becomes real in its consequences.”  How then shall we act?

Kirkegaard’s “Instead of Death” is based on the story of Lazarus as told in the eleventh chapter of the Gospel of John. On hearing the news of Lazarus’ passing, Jesus responds, “This sickness will not end in death.” Those captured in despair, will miss the potential for life. We have the power to choose how we react to horrible news, to deadly external influences.  Despair is a loss of perspective, a loss of agency, of self-worth.  It is a loss of hope.

What now are our choices?  What then can we do?  We begin by repudiating the climate of fear.  We can act and not be washed away in the fascist flood.  We can make a difference. 

Here are three areas to explore:

  1. When you see something, say something. An African American friend tells of being disrespected while shopping. In checking out, a clerk used clearly disrespectful and demeaning language. To my friend’s surprise, another customer, nearby, overhearing the exchange, gently but firmly in a quiet and clear voice said, “We are all better than this.”  Later, in the parking lot, the surprising voice offered support and friendship. We can welcome difference.  Maybe it is as simple as responding to a frown with a smile. A phone call, a visit that may help another. We can thank others for what they do. Ask how you might help. Encourage a teacher, a coach, a nurse, a therapist. Express appreciation to those who serve as police officers, fire fighters, local government officials.  Support public radio and television now are under attack.
  2. Reach out, make a new friend, and/or make a difference somewhere. Loneliness and fear are often the source of distrust and misunderstanding. This is a time to find ways to support the good work of programs like Exodus Immigration Refugee, NAACP, the Human Rights Commission. Host a dinner or picnic where persons from diverse backgrounds are welcomed and introduced. Perhaps make a new friend and together support our public schools in new ways, perhaps as a tutor or in support of a teacher. In Bloomington there are ways to support the healthcare for those with few resources through groups like HealthNet or by offering gratitude to our After-Hours Ambassadors working with the Community and Family Resource Department. We can write the university president asking why her administration does not better respond to attacks on academic freedom or to racist tweets that damage the sense of wellbeing among our students and other residents.  Ask the president why the university doesn’t join in efforts provide more for low-income housing, while it is the university driving up enrollments contributes to housing shortage and expense? Ask your banker, pastor, corporate leader how they might contribute to a more diverse racially community?  For some of us, who have the opportunity and occasion, we need to encourage broad representation from marginalized populations on boards and as candidates for leadership positions.
  3. Do one thing daily to challenge bigotry and discrimination.  Yes, I am going to say it – call or write your congressional or state representative challenging them to act against the flood of disinformation and intimidation. This is basic.  Write a letter to the editor.  Some days it may be as simple as being a friend to someone you know or a stranger you meet.

No need to be a crusader – some have that calling.  Others of us can do just one thing a day. Every day we can chose action and not fall into the sin of despair.

Francis: A Broken, Open Man

~ philipamerson ~ 1 Comment

Francis: A Broken, Open Man

Easter Monday 2025: Pope Francis is dead. I read the headlines, and glancing above my desk, see a copy of what I believe is one of the most important documents of our age. Laudato Si, the encyclical Francis offered a decade ago as a word of concern and hope.

Speaking of the natural world as “our common home” Laudato Si, simply means “praise be to you.” It is offered as a diagnosis, a prayer, a remedy for the health our good earth. Educated as a scientist and theologian, Francis offers carefully researched science linked with finely crafted moral guidelines. Part science, part ethics, and part poetry this is a call for honest attention and constructive action around the changes to our climate.

Here is an example of science and faith in conversation, each respectfully engaging the other. Science, thickly presented; moral theology merged in an appeal for an open “integral ecology.” Environmental activist Bill McKibben writes this “is arguably the most important piece of writing so far this millennium.”

Here is one summary sentence: “We are faced not with two separate crises, one environmental and the other social, but rather with one complex crisis which is both social and environmental.” It is the poor and refugee who already suffer, first and most, from ignoring the treatment to our common home.

Late in 2023 I was privileged to travel to Argentina. The most popular personage was not Pope Francis.  Images of another Argentinian, soccer (futbol) star Lionell Messi, were seen on every block. Shops were full of Messi’s jerseys (#10 or #30). Shops were filled with bobblehead dolls of Messi for sale; and nearby, a few were available of Pope Francis. When I asked a shopkeeper why? She whispered, “some are upset with the pope.”  More on that later.

In Buenos Aires we visited Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio’s assignment prior to the papacy. The Metropolitan Cathedral faces the Plaza de Mayo. At the other end of the plaza is the Casa Rosada (Argentina’s White House). The plaza is where the Mothers of the Disappeared gathered to protest during the “dirty war” (1976 to 1983) when it is estimated 30,000 young people were “disappeared” by the military junta in charge. The Mothers offered a human rights witness, a statement against the dictator.

This plaza is still a place where resistance to authoritarianism is on display. During our visit “stones of remembrance” were being placed around the statue of General Manuel Belgrino, leader of the fight for independence in the early 19th Century.  These stones today are an expression of grief for the more the 100,000 who had died of COVID as national leaders failed to respond.

Pope Francis knew this history, the struggles for human rights and the dilemmas of the poor. He believed in the connection of all people and creation and chose the name “Francis,” as signal St. Francis of Assisi would be a guide star.

In 2023 Argentina’s presidential election saw the ascendency of the flamboyant “anarcho-capitalist” Javier Melei, who lifted a chain saw during his campaign as example of his fight against what he called the evils of “collectivism” and the idiocy of “social justice.” Melei called Francis an “imbecile” for his efforts to aid the poor.

There was said to be a reconciliation in February 2024 when President Melei met with Pope Francis in Rome. Even so, a year later, in early 2025, Elon Musk stood on stage joining with Melei as Musk put on his own chainsaw routine to suggest that social programs in the U.S. should be cut out and destroyed with his DOGE efforts.

Returning to the shop keeper who spoke of some who were disappointed with the pope, she went on to say that Argentinians were most unhappy when in 2019 Francis visited Brazil and Chile but had “flown over” his own nation.  Ah, yes, Francis critiqued for not touching down in Argentina!  Nationalism alive and well… all around the world.

There is irony in the fact that one of the last visitors with Pope Francis prior to his death was U.S. Vice President JD Vance, a recent Catholic convert. Vance disagrees with the witness of Pope Francis on climate change, immigration, refugees, the war in Ukraine, to name only a few. Has JD Vance read Laudato Si?  Does the current U.S. Administration know of this work?  If so, what of the closing of USAID? Do any of the “faith leaders” surrounding our president offer a witness that considers the poor of our world or the climate crisis we face?

Some pundits today suggest Pope Francis has not changed the lyrics of the Catholic Church, just the music.  By this it is meant he didn’t transform specific dogma on abortion, homosexuality, or the role of women.  I believe he nudged us toward the future. Perhaps he moved these concerns from music in minor to a major key.

Changing the structures and practices of millennial old institutions is a one-hundred-year or two-hundred-year endeavor.  What we have been privileged to witness in Francis is one broken, open man, who gave himself fully for others in the hope of healing of our world.

I Will Call Her ‘Elizabeth’

~ philipamerson ~ 1 Comment

I Will Name Her ‘Elizabeth’

A block ahead of me, she slowly trod. She wears a blanket falling from her shoulders like a train dragging behind as if a royal gown. She turns at the corner, and I notice her bare feet. No crown, just matted hair from a rough night on the streets. Late March, evening temps were cool, but tolerable, I guess.  Still a blanket helped warm from to the chilly breeze.  Her gait made me think of her as “royalty on these mean streets” and I decided to name her ‘Elizabeth Rex.’

Another block, I have caught up and pass as we cross the street together.  At the corner of Kirkwood and Walnut, she stops and slowly turns. The grimy blanket end has gathered sidewalk debris.  Across from the Courthouse, near a restaurant I frequent, Elizabeth looked my way. Our eyes met and she quietly asks, “Do you know where I can get some shoes?”  I asked her name and where she was staying. She said she lives on the streets.  Had for nine years.  I doubted that, but I didn’t want to argue. 

Then from nowhere she says, “I’m an addict… a drug addict.”  I nod and ask what she was using.  “Meth, and some other stuff.”  “It can be dangerous,” I say.  I tell her that I have lost some friends to addiction.  She nods.  “What size shoes do you need? She stares into space for a long moment, then answers “nine-and-a-half.”  I doubt this as well.  Then, catching her eye again, I say there is a place nearby that can help.  Have you heard of Beacon? She stares off in the distance and nods “no.”

Calling her name, which was not Elizabeth, I said I would ask someone to bring some shoes if she wished.  She nod “yes.”  I call Elaine and ask if she could find something in our closet.  Elaine agrees and heads our way in her car.

I tell ‘Elizabeth’ that shoes and socks were on the way.  I then said again, “We can take you to a place that can offer more help.”  There was no sign of recognition, just that distant stare. We sat quietly for a few minutes near the crosswalk. Shortly a horn was sounding nearby.  It was Elaine.  I asked my new friend “Elizabeth,” if we could give her a ride to a place where she could have more help.  Over and again, I pointed and told her about Beacon, a place only a few blocks away that could help.  I opened the front door of Elaine’s Prius and invited her to take a seat.  “No, no,” she said, “God doesn’t want me to ride in cars, NO!”

Taking the bag from Elaine the woman and I sat on a nearby bench. I gave her the bag with socks and shoes and a few other healthcare aids.  She slowing pulled on the socks.  The shoes were TOO LARGE but the best we had to offer. She put them on.  I smiled, and feeling very Christian, I handed her a $20 bill.  She walked away – and I, experiencing an all too familiar voyeur’s guilt, took a photo.

Then, to my surprise she turned and walked back.  “Will you pray for me?” she asks. “Yes, yes,” I reply, “How about now?” We stood in the middle of the sidewalk and with my hand touching the royal blanket over her shoulder, I pray.  I prayed for her as a beloved child of God.  I pray that she would be delivered from her addiction.  I pray that she would know health and the love of others and discover places where she would not be harmed. “Amen” we said together.

Then to my surprise she said, “I cannot take this, none of it.”.  Handing me the $20, she sat down and removed shoes and socks. Putting them back in the small sack, she stood replacing the blanket over her shoulder she started away.  I tried to persuade, “Please keep them, the socks and shoes.” There was that glazed stare, birthed from addiction, abuse, fear, illness, poverty, or all-of-the-above… and more.  I tried again.  “Why don’t I sit the bag over there?” pointing to a nearby site.  “You can have it when I go away.”

“That would work,” she mumbled, repeating it over. I was pleased and sat the full bag on a step about 10 feet away.  I left.  Or I pretended to leave.  I crossed to the other side of the street and hurried down the block. Using the corner of the old Ladyman’s Restaurant as a shield, I watched.  I saw her pick up the sack.  She stood a long time at the corner, then crossed to my side of the street.  “Yes!” I whispered as I saw her carrying the bag.  When she turned and headed my way I quickly retreated, out of sight. 

I hustled past a church where I once served as the pastor, a quarter of a century ago, where we had begun a day center for persons without shelter. Turning east at the next corner, Fourth Street. I was out of sight, but “Elizabeth” and the millions of others like her, was not out of my thoughts.

What does it mean that our society cannot do better to aid persons without shelter, persons who struggle with addictions or mental illness?  What does it say about effectiveness of congregations, like this good one, that there are more persons on the streets without shelter than there were twenty-five years ago?  What does it say about me? My city? This university town filled with all our so-called experts? Why am I still so clumsy in honoring the humanity, the divinity, the royalty, of persons like Elizabeth?