Civility disobedience

Acts of desperation make us pause and think.

When Jarrod Lee Loughner opened fire on a crowd waiting to speak with their Congresswoman, in our horror and disbelief, we immediately began to ask why? Why did this happen? Why would this young man kill innocent people? Was this politically motivated?

The pundits came out in force. The politicians pointed fingers. The Left blamed the Right and vice versa.

I think in the end, we'll all come to find out this meaningless act of violence was, indeed, meaningless. Jarrod Lee Loughner is likely a mentally unbalanced man who needs help. He may or may not have been caught up with the vitriolic rhetoric we're all bombarded with daily. If you could get him to talk, I imagine he doesn't even know why he committed those acts.

Only one thing is certain about the tragic events in Tuscon, we're all suddenly talking a great deal about civility. We're all asking how we find ourselves at this place of hate and discontent?

A columnist for SI.com, Jeff Pearlman, recently tracked down a couple of folks who sent him snide, rude and pornographic responses to columns he'd written. When he called them both at home to call them out on their behavior, both were contrite. Both also sheepishly blamed the anonymity of the internet for their boorish behavior.

It's not surprising. While the Internet has done wonders to make our world that much smaller, it has also thrown a mask on each one of us. The web has reduced us to online monikers, cryptic avatars and FaceBook profile pictures that are doggedly hard to see on our smart phones. Is it any wonder we've stopped seeing each other as actual people?

But it isn't just the cloaking device of the World Wide Web that's causing so many folks to speak with wicked tongues. Our political and cultural worlds are rife with trying to shout over one another. Right and Left stick their fingers in their ears and say the most shameful things about each other. Even when those things are true it's hard to believe them given they're coated in hateful hyperbole.

We've stopped listening to one another. It's too loud to do so. We're so passionate that we are right and the other person is wrong that we drown one another out. I've witnessed family arguments where both sides are shouting loudly at each other about a political issue they don't even realize they're in agreement until one of us who actually has been listening to them points it out to them.

At church this week, our pastor advised us to imagine sitting at a table with someone we revile and Jesus. She suggested breaking bread with this person and trying to have a civil meal. While I have to admit the likelihood of me having dinner with the Savior and the Reverend Fred Phelps is about as likely as oil and water mixing, it was good food for thought.

I am not so naive to think that we can all agree all the time. I'm even enough of realist to think there are even places where some form of common ground isn't possible. Yet I am enough of an optimist to believe that if we pause, just for a few moments, and actually listen to one another maybe we can at least learn to have some tolerance and respect for one another.

Healing fractured faith

“I still haven't made my peace with organized religion,” a friend tells me over breakfast.

“I understand that,” I hear my blond twin tell her.

I look sheepishly at my plate of Georgie Browns. I haven't completely made my peace and I don't even understand. But I finally feel like I'm getting there.

Religion, specifically Christianity, has always mystified me for a host of reasons. Everything from a less than traditional religious upbringing to feeling like I don't belong in church because of that upbringing … and the whole gay thing.

Then there's the Bible. The source of religious truth for Christians. It is a vast book with fine print, sometimes contradictory twists and turns and legions of denominations shouting that their interpretation of the events therein is correct. It's daunting, to put it mildly.

I loathe not knowing things, so after I'd gone to church with the blond twin a few times I finally purchased my first Bible. After all, I'm a relatively smart gal with a college education. I could read the

Good Book on my own and come to my own conclusions. Then I'd have accomplished something and no longer feel that spiraling crisis of faith that gnawed at my soul every time someone asked me where I went to church.

I didn't even make it out of the Old Testament.

I kept going to church though. I'd just come out of the closet and needed a safe place. In southwest Missouri safe places can be hard to come by. Lucky for me, the blond twin was a member of National Avenue Christian Church. A Disciples of Christ Church, it welcomes those of us who happen to be gay Christians.

Like me, NACC was in crisis as well. The long-standing pastor had left the church … on less than amicable terms. Some members of the congregation were leaving while others maintained a tense vigil to keep NACC alive. A parade of temporary pastors churned through the pulpit, doing their level best to hold together what remained of a fractured place of faith.

It was at this time I decided to become a member.

Things began to slowly level out for both me and the church. An interim minister was hired and I began a long-term relationship with my soon-to-be wife. I felt more comfortable with me than I had in years. Yet old doubts began to eat at me once again, especially when it came to faith.

As I sat in the pew, I began to feel as though so much of what was happening was so far beyond me. For goodness sakes, I couldn't even finish the Bible. What made me think I had any business sitting in church, pretending to be a good Christian?

I stopped going, for a good long while.

It wasn't until just before the holidays last year I decided to go back. For whatever reason it felt right and comforting to be there. My doubts were still there, but I'd grown more accustomed to them. The church had found a permanent pastor. It would seem we were both in a more stable place.

But I still hadn't wrapped my mind around the Bible.

The Wife is fond of saying, “Through God and Amazon.com, all things are possible.”

I had joked to the blond twin that I wished there was one of those “Dummies” books about the Bible. It sparked an epiphany. I pulled up the Kindle Store on my Kindle and didn't find a “Dummies” book, but I did find “The Complete Idiot's Guide to the Bible.” I downloaded it thinking it would at least be good for a laugh.

Laughter is good for the aching soul.

The book is straightforward and without any attempts to interpret. It talks about varying interpretations of the Bible, but doesn't endorse any particular one. It also pokes fun of itself and manages to present the larger themes of the Bible in a way this hardened old cynic could relate to. I'm finally beginning to understand and feel comfortable with the book that, up to now, has terrified me.

I'm still reading the “Guide,” but I'm well into the New Testament. This small success has made feel I'm now ready to tackle that fear of organized religion as well.

I may even be making progress there. At church this week, we talked about Baptism. I remembered having my own Baptism some what forced on me by well-meaning but ill-advised friends. I didn't understand why I needed to stand in front of a room of 500 people and have water poured over the top of my head. It just seemed like a good way to humiliate myself.

At the end of this week's service, the pastor called us all up to be Baptized by taking water in our hands. We then were asked to take a shell or a rock to remind us of that day and to remind us to yield to God. Maybe it's because I'm older. Maybe it's because I'm reading that “Guide.” Maybe it's because God has decided it's my time to understand … but this time, it felt right and cleansing. And for the first time in my nearly forty years, I felt at home in church.

I mades a funny

God hates ... no one, not even Fred Phelps

Dear Fred Phelps:

Do shut up. Not please. Not thank you. Just shut it. Polite clearly doesn't work with you.

Now that I have your attention ... no, No. NO don't scream at me about FAG CHURCHES. We've all heard it before.

You're rather fond of warning us about the reckoning we face with the Lord, aren't you? But Brother Fred, I want to talk to you about your reckoning with God. Have you thought about that much?

You've taken it upon yourself to judge all of us. All that judgment has landed you in some hot water now hasn't it, Freddie? You were banned from practicing law in Kansas. You're barred from traveling at all to the United Kingdom. You even recently lost a lawsuit to one of the families' whose funeral you protested.

Did you ever stop to think, Brother Fred, all those things might be sign. Like maybe a big one. Maybe, just maybe, that's God over there waving a big sign that says, “Fred, my son, you have it all wrong!”

I don't know of many of God's children who find your protests of funerals anything but vile and hateful. But Brother Fred, to go to Tuscon now, ratchet up the hate, and thank God for the death of a nine-year old girl because of gays? I mean, Freddie, that's depraved!

You honestly think a bunch of homos are the reason a deranged college drop out shot up an innocent crowd of people waiting to see their Congresswoman?

C'mon Fred. Homos are about love. Granted, the boys aren't too fond of those who don't know better than to wear white after Labor Day. But we all have our flaws. Even you, Fredie Poo.

According to the Gospel of Matthew (7:1-6), Jesus's sermon on the Mount was a condemnation of those who judge others. Throughout the Bible, Jesus tells us to look inward to our own flaws and heal those. We aren't to solve the flaws of others.

You talk of sin, Brother Fred but I ask you about greed. Greed? You know, it's one of the Seven Deadly Sins. We all know how Westboro makes its money, honey. You make money off of unlawful interruptions of your protests. That's right my Brother, you sue people for money. People you cause pain and suffering. How do you not see that for the sinful act it is?

If you're truly witnessing for Jesus, why would you need to make a buck off it? Shouldn't your tithes, and those of your flock be enough to sustain your church?

Won't the Lord judge you for your sins? What will happen on your day of reckoning Brother Phelps?

See true Christians, even GAY ones, walk in the light of Christ. They talk about God's love and redemption. They talk about healing the sick and tending to the needy. They take condolences and casseroles to grieved families, not protests.

The good news, Fred, is that God hates … no one. He loves us all: black, white, gay, straight or indifferent. He wants us to share love and joy, not hate and bigotry.

You were a lawyer, not a judge. Now, at the risk of repeating myself, shut it Brother Fred. The Lord has a lot of healing to do.

XOXO,

Amy