I hope God is proud of himself...

For turning me into a nicer person than I used to be.   On Monday, I absolutely excreted the milk of human kindness.   By the quart in every vein.   I was incredibly kind.    I had an perfect opportunity to make a tin foil hat wearing crazy person absolutely lose his shit.  It was rolled out in front of me like a golden edged red carpet with my name written on it.  

Alas, the voice inside my head that keeps me from doing fun things was whispering not only the traditional "Jesus will be pissed" line from high school that kept me out of prison but that it would not be kind to take this opportunity to completely freak out my most irritating and clinically insane (but functional!) customer ever.  

I'm a good girl I am!  

I should explain the context in which this occurs.  Generally speaking, I am a middle of the road mildly left of center Democrat.  So when I talked to people who are, well, right of right Republicans they like to call me a liberal, frequently with the word crazy in front of it.   I do not object to either term, but I wouldn't fit a real uber leftist's ideal either.  I just don't belong in the extreme end of much.  At the office, one of the things I work pretty hard at is making sure people feel comfortable talking to me.   That means that, while I certainly never appear to be anything other than a Christian,(it's kind of like trying to avoid giving off the impression that I am a white fat girl)  I don't have a cross on my office wall or religious sayings on my desktop etc etc.  I am nice to pagans, wiccans, Muslims, Hindus, Baptists, Roman Catholics, Buddhists, atheists and basically everyone who comes into my office and try to make sure I appear friendly and open if they bring up their own faith or lack of it.  I do the same thing with politics.  I don't lie about the way I feel but I don't bring it up and I don't berate people for their views and I try to be kind when they disagree with me.  I limit my snark to funny, gentle remarks to the contrary.  Always with a smile on my face.   Why?  Because I want people to be comfortable enough to talk to me in a way that doesn't involve lying about things that effect their coverage.

In other words, I am entirely selfish in my professionalism.  I don't want to miss anything.  I also don't want to have to listen to someone scream or cry because their coverage is cancelled because they lied on their insurance application.   It's just good form. 

Enter the crazy man: I am acquainted with a man here in Peyton Place who is convinced the government is full of goons who are trying to 'financially rape' him and likes to write ten page missives to government officials and insurance companies.  He once got into a car accident with a deer and wrote a small novel on the subject which he insisted be attached to a police report along with illustrations.  Little x's where the eyes should be because it was dead.  The little detail that the deer was crossing the road perchance to mate.    He has been sued for libel and my coworker refuses to set foot on his property because "it looks like a serial killer lives there".   He has calmed down in recent years but the other day I got to see him with the tin foil helmet on in full glory.

Someone had asked him for a roof exclusion.  He cancelled the policy himself instead, writing a three page missive to do it.  He quoted the founding fathers and detailed his glorious struggles with the liberal elite.  He comes into the office very happy to see me.  He then spends five minutes rattling off all the things I need to read or have my (non existent) children read.  A list of books and websites detailing the liberal communist fascist takeover of America. 

Then it happens.  He says the words "They tell you how liberals are destroying America."  Dear sweet Baby Jesus with that sweet little smile beginning to form a smirk.  He has met the enemy and it is ME.  I remain silent.  Internally I am biting my lip.  I am about to burst.  I consider telling him that yes, I am one of them, and we plan to have it done before the next election.  Lord, Lord, you'd better keep your arm around your shoulder and your hand over my mouth.  He keeps prattling on.  It just gets deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole.  There's forty steps to a communist takeover and 25 of them have already happened. (Oh God keep my mouth shut with your grace.)  You need to have your kids read this book, it will teach them how to think and open their minds up like never before. (Just remember to put tin foil on their heads to keep the aliens from reading their thoughts.)   Salvation!!  He has somewhere to be and he takes his leave of me.  He tells me again how he knows how the liberals are destroying this country and trots happily out the door to go along with his business.

He doesn't suspect a thing.  I put a bug in his shoe so I could listen to his phone calls.  I should be getting his emails soon.  One day, victory shall be mine....

That love your neighbor thing...

Have you ever wondered why Episcopalians bow for the part of the Nicean Creed that talks about the Incarnation of Christ and immediately stand all the way up when it talks about his trial and death?  (Who what?  Leslie?  What's a Nicean Creed? This:

For us and for our salvation

he came down from heaven:

by the power of the Holy Spirit

he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary,

and was made man.

For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate;

he suffered death and was buried.

On the third day he rose again

in accordance with the Scriptures;

he ascended into heaven

and is seated at the right hand of the Father.)

The parts I have copied in RED, we bow for, the parts in blue, the parts we all generally get excited about, we stand up.   Have you ever wondered why?   I have.    I found an answer in Mere Christianity that is now beginning to make perfect sense.  The greater catastrophe was God becoming Man.   It was a fortunate catastrophe for us but by far the most demeaning thing that could have ever been done or happened to God the Son.   It's even worse than being convicted on false charges and sentenced to death on the Cross. 

I'm having one of those weekends where I'm starting to understand why that is.    When I heard about the Trayvon Martin case, I wondered why it hadn't been sent to trial.  I didn't understand.   I was upset and I didn't understand why Florida didn't think a grown man (sort of, he seems to have some moral development issues) chasing and then shooting an unarmed teenager was wrong.   It got worse and worse as the thing went on and then came the verdict.   The stupid stupid verdict.   The what the hell were these women thinking verdict.   How can this irresponsible prick not be guilty?   Even if he isn't guilty under the law, the FLORIDA JUSTICE SYSTEM IS.
I went to church this morning and there it is.   The scriptures all line up.  The parable of the good Samaritan, the Psalm was particularly appropriate:

Psalm 82
¹ God has taken his place in the divine council;
   in the midst of the gods he holds judgment:
² ‘How long will you judge unjustly
   and show partiality to the wicked?
³ Give justice to the weak and the orphan;
   maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute.
⁴ Rescue the weak and the needy;
   deliver them from the hand of the wicked.’
⁵ They have neither knowledge nor understanding,
   they walk around in darkness;
   all the foundations of the earth are shaken.

I can't help but think that by the time he was murdered in an unjust trial with false accusations himself, Jesus may have had a moment similar to this:

 

Who would??   Who would.  In a world where we put a murder victim on trial for their own death.   Where in the same world, in the same state, another woman fires warning shots at her abusive husband, who she has a protective order against, and gets 20 years for attempted murder.   Somehow, I think, given the situation, she should have shot him.  Then, maybe she would be walking around free.   Oh wait.... she's brown.

So I will continue to bow at the mention of the catastrophe that was the Incarnation.   The indignity of being born in this world that was suffered by our God.  It turns out, there are worse things than death, even death on a cross. 

 

We're better than this, or we should be.  We know better.  We all know better.  Or maybe we don't.  I have a challenge for those of you who think you want to live in a Christian nation.   Read the words in red in the gospels.  Actually read them.  I'll tell you a secret, they will mess up your life.   You wouldn't be the first person to find out your religion isn't what you thought it was.  The people who read the gospels for the first time after it was translated into English said that this was not the gospel or they are not Christians.  They were right.   That love your neighbor thing?  We're lousy at it some times.  Especially when our neighbor doesn't look like us or share our faith or if we think they're doing something wrong.

 

It doesn't make us judge, jury and executioner.    Fifteen years ago, provided he was brown at the time, which he was not, my younger brother could have been Trayvon Martin.   He went through a rough patch, got in a little trouble and he wore his pants hanging off his ass.  The last part bothered me the most.  I know, I'm profiling again.  He did not deserve to be shot for walking home in the wrong neighborhood.  He didn't deserve to be stalked by a vigilante.  He didn't deserve to have that jerk walk free.   He's a good man now, which is something that Trayvon Martin will never have a chance to be.   George Zimmerman, having escaped justice, is currently tasting the sweet bite of karma's boot on his ass. 

 

So if you find yourself uncomfortable reading this, take my advice and read the Gospels.  The whole thing.  In context.  Then decide if you're really into this Christianity thing or you're just going with the flow.  Take a look at yourself.   Do you really thing you want to try this loving your neighbor thing?

 

Cause it kind of means you can't murder teenagers for walking through your neighborhood in a hoodie.

 

 I'll leave you guys with this thought from Harper Lee.