2024-12-18T15:15:13+00:00

Beautiful Things

December 18, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

I am hesitant to write yet another post about high school/youth sports, and I am especially hesitant to comment on the officiating in these contests. (I have written them, but have not posted them. I usually like to be a positive voice in a sea of increasing vitriol.) However. There will be a point that is much bigger than one game or season, right in the middle of a loooong silly rambling treatise.

I had a very elementary, yet personally profound, realization. You see, the officiating at these contests is generally, with few exceptions, abysmal. It’s simple incompetence. I don’t think these people are bad people (I mean, there are psychos walking around, so there are probably some in every field…and sometimes, they are quite rude and condescending), it just appears that they are overwhelmed by the speed and physicality of the game. But big deal, right? It’s high school sports. It’s just a game. So what if some middle-aged, overweight guys in stripes can’t manage to control the kids?

And that’s true, to a certain extent. But last night, as it was happening, I was wondering why we all (and myself in particular) get so invested in fairly trivial things, and why this inadequacy is so maddening. Of course, none of this is an excuse. Parents are much of what broke youth sports, and there is no space where a human being should be screamed at or publicly belittled, especially not in a high school gymnasium. These are human beings with families and maybe find themselves here, over their skis, ostensibly because they see a need and want to see the games played. I wrote last year about why it is that I get so excited (or what I like to call passionate;) and why it’s such a bad look for a man, regardless of that reason. This is not that post. This is a post with some observations, and the last one will be the “personally profound realization.”

*We like the illusion of fairness. We want to pretend that the ground is level and everyone gets an equal opportunity. We believe in justice and that we all get what we deserve. This is, obviously, not true anywhere. The best songs are almost never the most popular. Sometimes the most horrific things happen to the best people. Innocent people sit in prison while the guilty walk free. But we want it to be true in sports. And we’d really like it to be true for our children. It’s not, and evidence of that can be wildly frustrating.

*The most common excuse given for the state of officiating in all amateur sports is that “it’s hard to find” willing participants. I hear and can understand that argument (after all, parents are not the easiest to handle), while dismissing it as hollow. It is a paid position. This isn’t volunteerism. (But even then, if you help at the hospital information desk and consistently send people to wrong buildings and floors, maybe a change is in order.) But paid positions require a certain base level of competence…

…and to offer such a flippant excuse, is, essentially, an assent that youth sports, and by extension, the athletes, really aren’t that important to us. Maybe this is actually reasonable, but considering that sports are religion in America, it’s a mixed message. We either care or we don’t.

Now, the much bigger societal issue is what we’ll call the “It Is What It Is” mentality. It’s the language of despair, and an convenient escape hatch for the risk and responsibility of growth or change. We excuse any and all behavior, filing it under the category of “this is just who I am,” forgetting (or ignoring) that we don’t have to stay that way. Marriages, jobs, faith, habits, generational curses, whatever. Is our destiny really to just get by on the same path, walking the same steps we always have, accepting everything because “it is what it is,” while throwing our hands up in the air? And the arrogance of this stagnant position does nothing but assure more stagnation. Sports officiating might be the least important of all of the symptoms of this disease, but it is a symptom, nonetheless.

There are 40 year old boys I know that have no expectations whatsoever placed upon them. Oh well, shrug, he’s just that way. This lack of hope is depressing, and the next time it is helpful will be the first. Maybe if we stop accepting the lowest possible outcome, we’ll begin to get something different.

The truth is, whether I should or not, I care a lot. About the kids – I don’t want anyone getting injured simply because an official is under qualified and overwhelmed. I want them to enjoy sports and all of the great effects of participation, at all age and skill levels. That is my main interest, honestly. It’s not just the right thing to say between games on a blog so I don’t sound like a raving lunatic with poor priorities. Having said that, my profound epiphany is:

*I love beautiful things. 3 weeks ago, I attended a Morrissey concert. What if the sound engineer was ill-equipped? What if he didn’t know how to operate the board, and was a little tone deaf? The guitars might be too loud, the bass overdone, and the vocal mix out of balance. We may not be able to hear Morrissey, instead getting too much of the keyboard or rhythm guitar. Let’s say Brene Brown was giving a talk on relationships, and the microphone kept cutting out or the lights were flashing because the ones who should check batteries forgot. Would that be an obstacle to her brilliant talent? Would we accept it as “just how it is?” It’s hard to get sound guys, why bother to train them or hold them responsible for sub-par performance?

Basketball is an absolutely lovely sport, full of creativity and athleticism, as well as sharply choreographed cooperative movements. It can be an awesome display of the dance between giftedness and hard work. When a game is poorly controlled, this dance becomes a scrum. The inherent beauty of meaningful brushstrokes becomes a chaotic mess, noisy and disconcerting.

I’m not sorry for loving beautiful things. I’m not sorry for my passion for art (including sport). I’m not sorry for wanting all interested kids to be able to play, if they want to, without extra risk of violent injury. I’m not sorry that I value excellence, in any and all fields. And I’m nowhere close to sorry that I wholeheartedly reject the desperate “Is What It Is” nonsense.

What I might be sorry for is that “middle-aged, overweight” comment earlier.

Am I Woke?

December 9, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The Star Wars films ranked: 1. Episode 8, The Last Jedi. 2. Episode 7, The Force Awakens. 3. Rogue One. 4. Episode 5, The Empire Strikes Back. 5 (tie). Episode 4, A New Hope. Episode 6, Return of the Jedi. Episode 3, Revenge of the Sith. Episode 9, Rise of Skywalker. 9. Solo. 10. Episode 1, The Phantom Menace. 1,000 (to just list it as last underestimates just how bad the actual movie is. The story is fine, it’s ok in theory, but in reality, it’s just an epic load of garbage.) Episode 2, Attack of the Clones.

It’s possible to disagree, I suppose, with all but the first and last, and that’s up to you. But last weekend, as I was watching Force Awakens for the 20th or 30th time, I now know why that last trilogy is the best. It’s obvious, and probably nothing new to you. You’ve surely known this for years. It’s Daisy Ridley, and her character, Rey.

What’s odd is that, when I told my family in this personal eureka moment, they called me “woke.” Am I woke? What’s woke? I mean, I think I know what “woke” is, I’ve heard it in all sorts of contexts. But here, stating a clear fact, what could it possibly mean to be woke? My son said it both ironically and derisively, so I think he meant it AS ironic derision, like he was poking fun at the common online trolling of this perspective.

But what does that mean? Am I a part of the “woke mob?” What does it mean to be “woke?” Is loving Rey more than Luke Skywalker the first sign? The only sign? You know, now that I think of it, I even liked The Acolyte series…a lot! I thought The Marvels was flawed, but fun. Same with Agatha All Along and Echo. Is thinking that a female can be the protagonist in a story that’s not about motherhood or romance “woke?” I hated Episode 2, but in my defense, I thought Natalie Portman (a usually terrific actor) was horrible in it. Now that I think of it, is it particularly woke to call her an actor instead of actress???

I didn’t mind that the love story in Frozen wasn’t romantic, was between sisters, and the males were ancillary characters. I didn’t even care too much that the women saved the day, and the guys.

I didn’t think it was pandering to an agenda when Agatha kissed Rio, in Agatha All Along. I simply thought more women kiss other women nowadays, and art (especially popular art) reflects the culture. I also thought NWA used explicit lyrics because people they knew in the lives they led used explicit lyrics, not because they had a far-reaching villainous plot to turn us all into gangstas.

Rey is funny, real, scared & surprised at her power and very, very strong. Oh boy. I think its possible that I might be woke. Think? I didn’t even mention her looks. SMH. And, and, and, I thought Rose was awesome. “I saved you, dummy.” So good. They were right, I am totally “woke.”

So, what does that mean? What do me and my mob have to do? I don’t really want to boycott anything (except episode 2) or remake old Disney movies with flipped gender roles. I don’t even know how to create memes. I just want to watch great films with well-written characters I care about. And I want to see everything Daisy Ridley is in. If that’s the hidden agenda of my mob, I guess I’m in.

Under The Covers

December 3, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

I’m listening to “Good Luck, Babe!” two times in a row, once by Postmodern Jukebox and the other by Chappell Roan. Later, I’ll listen to “Too Sweet” two times, the original by Hozier and the cover version by the Macarons Project. Earlier, Rod Stewart’s “Maggie May” by Susanna Hoffs, and The National’s version of “Never Tear Us Apart.” There is a playlist on my music app called Prime Covers. (I use the word “prime” in each of my playlists, thinking it’s equal parts clever and commentary on the ubiquitous nature of the Amazon brand. It’s probably neither, it’s probably just dumb. Same goes for the title of this blog, which could be clever but is probably just dumb.)

I love cover songs, have always loved cover songs.

I do not, however, like too faithful note-for-note replays. Why? I didn’t like Van Sant’s Psycho shot-for-shot remake, either. The current exception is “Right Down The Line” – original by Gerry Rafferty, cover by Local Natives. Maybe that’s because the song/lyrics remind me so much of the Angel (“It was you, woman, right down the line.”) I could hear either one and be very happy. But usually, I can’t enjoy it because I’m waiting for something new and interesting that never comes.

I want completely different imaginings of these songs. My example of a perfect cover would be Danzig covering Pat Benatar’s “Love Is A Battlefield.” Danzig is not Pat Benatar, but “Love Is A Battlefield” sounds like a sentiment he could get behind. Everything would be perfect. Postmodern Jukebox’s “Good Luck, Babe!” sounds like an early ‘60’s b-side, and is better in every way than Chappell Roan’s. “Too Sweet” is different enough, but Hozier’s version is the alpha. This is usually the case, original’s are mostly indispensable, with the cover being a quirky distraction.

I suppose “All Along The Watchtower” is the best example of the new absolutely replacing the old. After Jimi Hendrix played his, no one would ever purposefully listen to Bob Dylan’s again. This is a very very rare phenomena.

One Sunday morning, in our church service, I played “Be My Baby,” by the Ronettes and then again by Bayside. Nobody actually thinks the Bayside version is better, but there are people who would, at certain times and places, rather hear a catchy pop punk tune than a classic piece of Heaven, with a transcendent Ronnie Spector performance (is there another kind???).

The point was, we have a Gospel that is the most amazing, awesome Truth, and there’s a Great Commission that asks us to take this Gospel everywhere. Not everyone likes Chappell Roan, or Danzig, or Bob Dylan, but these songs need to be heard, the audience needs to grow for beautiful things. And not everyone likes my face or voice or shoes, but everyone desperately needs this Gospel of grace, peace, and love. Maybe they need your version, instead.

Pop Songs

November 25, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

There is a song called “Cinderella Snapped,” by someone named Jax. I don’t know much about Jax, because we live in a mostly post-artist world. We choose songs instead of albums and are loyal to no one. Maybe Jax will have another good song (and, in fact, she does, called “Victoria’s Secret.” Maybe there’s more, but nobody really cares. If she does, the algorithm on my Amazon music app will make sure I hear it. My favorite song on Nevermind is “Drain You,” but album tracks are a relic of ancient times, so we’d never hear it today), but that’s besides the point. This one is perfect. It’s about Disney princesses opening their eyes and moving on from the common narrative. (I’m not sure, maybe I’m “woke.” I’ll think about it later.)

The 2nd verse is one of the most perfect examples of what popular music can be, what a beautifully transcendent medium it is. “When the smoke cleared, every girl in the whole land. Woke the f- up and started making demands. Rapunzel shaved their head, so there was nothin’ to climb on. Jasmine made out with Mulan. Sleeping Beauty sued the dude who kissed her while she was asleep. And Ariel was confident without any feet. Tiana went and got a Biomedical Degree. And Beauty realized that she was the Beast.” So good.

Jax is a former contestant on American Idol. Does this say something good or bad? Who knows? There was a time I would have said it’s the worst thing, but now? Whatever.

There’s another song called “Beautiful Things,” by Benson Boone. “Crazy In Love,” by Beyoncé, “Never Tear Us Apart,” by INXS, “Rebel Yell,” by Billy Idol are perfect radio songs. “Beautiful Things” is also perfect. I might say “Too Sweet,” by Hozier is, too, but maybe not. Probably. Anyway. I’m not perfect, by any measure, but I think if I were a pop song, this is the one I’d be.

It’s sweet and romantic, he’s found a girl his parents love, and when she comes and spends the night, he thinks he might have it all. He thanks God every day for the girl He sent his way. Swoon. Me too. I’ve been married to the Angel for almost 25 years and I told her again last night that I can’t believe I’m the only one that gets to kiss her like this. I am truly grateful and thank God every day for the woman He sent my way.

There are some questionable ideas: Does God “take away” blessings? Do I really need her? But this is a pop song, after all, and it’s pretty fun for there to be anything interesting to discuss in a 3 minute song about love. I do hope I don’t lose her, though, need or not.

But then the song builds quickly and gets loose. He wails to “please stay,” and asks that God would not “take these beautiful things that he’s got.” (Does “got” imply ownership? I bet Jax would have thoughts.) The verses appeal to everyone with ears and a heart, but the chorus is risky, with sharp edges. (Just an fyi, the Angel hates this hook. She’s wrong.) I am leaving behind my overwhelming need for people pleasing, and instead embracing my sharp edges in the service of authenticity in my own divine creation.

Then it slows and finishes. The only negative to this gem is the same as “Never Tear Us Apart” – it’s too short. It’s in and out, changes you, nothing is ever the same again, and you are left wishing you had more time with it. I would like it if you said any of those things about me.

The truth is, these 2 songs are exactly what they are, without apology. They’re exactly what they’ve been created to be. And maybe that’s the coolest thing about them. “Cinderella Snapped” doesn’t want to be Bob Dylan or Taylor Swift, it isn’t afraid to be as deep as the sea while sounding like the sky. “Beautiful Things” knows it’s the Beast and is willing to scream out loud about it. Maybe we can see ourselves in them, and maybe I see the me that I’m finally stepping into. We’re not “Beautiful Things” or anything else. I’m just me, you’re just you, and that is enough. In fact, it’s much, much more than enough.

Morrissey in Atlantic City, 2024

November 21, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/1 Comment

Last week, I saw Morrissey in Atlantic City. (If you don’t know who Morrissey is, I’m sorry… you should find out immediately.) He’s been my very favorite since I was 13ish, and he’s still my favorite artist by miles and miles. My favorite song is “There Is A Light That Never Goes Out,” and number 2 is “Half A Person.” When I make lists of My Top 10 (or 100 or 500) songs or albums, I don’t include him, because he’s all of the top spots and the list begins for others much later.

The question is if we are one sort of person and find the artists that mean the most or if they find us and we become those people? And like so many things, the answer is yes. We are predisposed to Smiths (the band Morrissey fronted) songs. We are emotional, sensitive, weird, and they massage those already screaming places and make them grow. Where we were a little outside of the norm, we became complete misfits and put that on like comfy sweaters. We are the kind of people looking for artists to “save our lives” and so we find them, then we become the people who were “saved” by an artist. It’s an odd circle, but it’s not very complicated. It’s nature AND nurture. I was born and was raised into a Morrissey person.

So, when he plays roughly 3 hours from my house, teenage me would have walked. Now me checks the calendar for days off and the kids schedule and bank account to see about a fancy hotel. When they line up, I am very, very excited to go.

There are few casual Morrissey fans. He is either your favorite, or you don’t really care for him at all (like my brother, who HATES him). Everyone there wore t-shirts and knew every word to 40 year old album tracks. He played new songs, not on a released album, and we even knew those lyrics. How? Because we’re Morrissey people. How would we not know “I Am Veronica?”

The setlist was not the one I would’ve compiled. If you listed the 20 biggest hits for your favorite band, this setlist would have included only 2 or 3. He omitted many of the songs that soundtracked our lives, seemingly choosing by random. Which is really cool, in most cases. In others, it’s still really cool.

It didn’t change my life. I spent the night in the hotel with the Angel, and the 2 of us had dinner with my sister and brother-in-law. My sister and I then went to the show together. Those last 2 sentences were more important to me than any of the songs or even (gasp!) Morrissey himself. I’m not who I used to be.

In the song “Ouija Board,” there are 2 lines that perfectly touched every last bit of me. “..and I still do feel so horribly lonely,” and “I just can’t find my place in the world.” Even the famous lyric from “How Soon Is Now?” – “ I am human and I need to be loved.”

I’m not very lonely too much at all, anymore. I think I finally have found my place in the world, as well as the story of my life. And the 2nd half of the “I am human and I need to be loved…just like everybody else does,” is now what I can focus on, which has changed my life in such beautifully meaningful ways.

There was a sharpie in my pocket for him to sign my t-shirt, just in case we ran into each other. We didn’t, but if we had, I would’ve thanked him, told him how grateful I am to have found him. That’s true. I am a Morrissey person, only now that is only a fairly small part of me…But that fairly small part still listens to Bona Drag on repeat and carries a sharpie and makes me hoarse singing along to pop songs in a concert hall in Atlantic City.

A Few Observations On The Election

November 8, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

Maybe you missed it, but there was an election to decide the President of the United States this week. I am no different from most of the rest of us, we are all overflowing with emotions & observations that will take days, months, years to unpack and reconcile.

I don’t like to speak publicly about who and/or what, specifically, I politically support. Far more important to me is offering everyone a seat at every table, where we are comfortable and safe to explore and discover our own place in our journey. It’s never helpful to try to control others conclusions or beat them into changing their minds – not helpful to relationships and always unsuccessful.

What has hurt us, as a nation (of course) and as human beings, is the belief that we are not just one group, but we are 2, an us/them dichotomy, adversaries where I am right and you are wrong. I am interested in bridging imaginary gaps and reminding us all that we are all moms & dads, brothers & sisters, just people all in the same strange boat, inviting us all to the table. And big beautiful tables like that aren’t ever built by hanging signs on the front door that some aren’t welcome. We listen and try to understand, and when we don’t, we love anyway.

I do have some observations, (hopefully) without endorsement or judgment of you and your conclusions.

Let’s say Pepsi and Coke are the only available soft drinks. And let’s also say we don’t like them. They’re not great, but we figure that one is marginally better than the other. Now, let’s say a new company comes along to disrupt the status quo. We complain about the 2 soda empires, but we continue to only buy Coke or Pepsi. Do you think anything would ever change? Do you think Coke will sink any time, energy, or money into putting out a better product? Do you think Pepsi will ever decide to transform the dual monopoly, if it means cutting their own profits and market share? Of course, neither of them would jeopardize their own power and wealth. Our participation in this 2 cola race (voting with our wallets to ignore any other drinks) is validation of an only 2 cola race. In this case, we deserve Pepsi & Coke.

I do wish we deserved/demanded a wide array of choices in our soft drinks.

I am a religious person – but maybe not the kind of religious that you might have in your head. What I actually mean is that I love and follow Jesus, and I love you, too. So, a really big problem is when we replace God with a person or party, and when we replace the enemy with a person or party. (After writing and deleting what I’ve written several times,) That’s all I’ll say about that.

What I know, after this and every election, is that we are still an us, there are no monsters here, and as long as division reigns supreme, we will drift farther and farther apart. We will dig our feet into our respective Coke or Pepsi camps, and hurl violent insults (and more) from our right-ness into their wrong-ness, killing our opponents, before we ever wake up to the truth that in killing them, we have been killing ourselves all along.

Episode 8

November 4, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/1 Comment

The site asks me what my life will be like in 3 years? Well, I imagine we’ll be slaves to our machine overlords. Or maybe it’ll look exactly the same, because we’re already slaves to the machines? Or maybe I’ll still be loving you, trying to change the whole world one at a time?

Anyway, a few days ago I watched episode 8 of the Star Wars saga, called The Last Jedi. Many of those who hold Star Wars like a religion rather than a rad film series hated this installment. Probably because our hero was a woman (!!!), the bad guy was derisively called “emo” (as if that was somehow a negative?), there was an awesome character named Rose that received death threats because she had the nerve to be in a movie, but the most egregious sin was that Luke Skywalker was jaded and sour. We like what we like, and don’t always (i.e. never) embrace change.

Rey, Ren, and Rose are perfect, and I thought it was pretty reasonable that Luke might be sort of broken after what he saw and endured, his spirit buckling under his guilt and shame. I spent years depressed and isolated for far less than plunging the universe into bondage under a new empire.

(I’m about to talk about how great this film is, and I’m going to need you to forget, as I will, that scene of Leia floating through space. Deal? Deal.)

Beginning with the moment where Rey shows up in Snoke’s throne room, the next hour+ is my absolute favorite. There’s nothing else in all of the movies I’ve seen that can touch it. Not Captain America getting Thor’s hammer in Endgame. Not the reveal in Fight Club. Not Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men or The Shining or Five Easy Pieces. Not the heart-crushing Aimee Mann song at the end of Magnolia. Or the super-strange frog rain in Magnolia. Not Helm’s Deep or the battle for New York. Not “In Your Eyes” on John Cusack’s boom box or every word of the script of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Not the conversation between The Bride and Bill or “Say what again!!”from Pulp Fiction. Maybe the reveal in Fight Club… no, not the reveal in Fight Club.

Ren & Rey killing Snoke and fighting the royal guard, Laura Dern turning the cruiser around and hyperspacing into the imperial fleet, the mono-skis on the salt planet, and LUKE SKYWALKER showing up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It’s THE BEST!!!

The weirdos who say the movie was terrible could not possibly be more wrong. In fact, I wonder if it’s all some sort of organized troll, like a work in big time wrestling, where everybody knows the truth. Like if you know somebody who says “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and the Beatles are overrated. They can barely say it with a straight face. Maybe this is the same. It has to be, right?

But the Star Wars studio heads didn’t think so. They listened to this nonsense and retconned (a new term that I can’t say I totally like) the story, rolling it back to somehow cobble together episode 9. Sigh. So I’ll keep watching episode 8 over and over, at least until those same studio heads destroy the print, and pretend it was never made. But we’ll remember, won’t we?

Somebody Else

October 30, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The site is asking me for One Thing I Believe Everyone Should Know, and I have a few answers. First, that each of us is loved beyond reason or limit, and has value far exceeding what we would ever guess. And the second is to take the weight plates off of the bars at the gym, and wipe their equipment down.

We talk a lot about the first one, but not too much about the second. A few weeks ago, a woman asked me if the squat rack next to me was in use (because the bar was still loaded with weights), and I told her I didn’t think so, but I would ask the guy that was there and was now on a different machine. I asked him if he was finished with it, and he said yes, so I offered to help him unload it, to which he was incredulous. “What?” I said it was common practice to strip the weights. He looked confused and pretty aggressively answered that he didn’t know that, nobody told him. But does anyone really have to be told that?

Apparently, based on the frequency that weights are left on the bars, YES. So, I’d like everyone to know that. But a better question is, why don’t they? Why are some people so rude? But maybe they don’t know it’s so rude, and in that case, how could they possibly not know? When/Where did the philosophy of “Somebody Else” come into such popular fashion. “Why should I do it? Somebody Else will.” “Oh, don’t bother, Somebody Else will take care of it.” Ugh.

I actually have an answer to this Why, and at the risk of sounding like The Oldest Man In The World, I think the answer is, obviously, our phones. We used to pay attention, to have an awareness of our surroundings, to walk around in a fairly awake state of consciousness. This is not a romanticism of the past, when I was young… I’m not a man who thinks the past was the good ‘ol days, and everything was better. Much of our culture, most of our lives, are probably better now in so many ways. We have evolved.

But there are some things that have been lost. One of them is personal contact. We mistake screens for people, “Friends” for friends, DMs for conversation. A Zoom meeting simply isn’t a straight 1:1 substitute for a conference table. We go to the gym and, between sets, put our noses into our phones, texting, scrolling YouTube videos or Instagram reels, instead of watching those around us, seeing and learning the norms of living in a society. It’s much harder to relate in person than on a Snapchat message, and requires so many more skills and attention. We have to recognize non-verbal cues as well as tones and inflections. But we also can connect in far more depth. We will see their faces, their struggles, accomplishments, exercises, forms, etc. And we will notice easily that grown-ups (of any age) unload their weights.

We are tied to an entire world, but we are increasingly disconnected to our neighbors and separated from those we see every day. This happens to be absolutely anti-human, and it’s why we end up finding it so easy to be so mean online, categorizing each other as monsters, “us vs them” instead of how it actually is, just a great big pile of Us.

Of course, we all want everyone to strip their weights, but mostly we want to see each other in real life again, right?

Tolerance…

October 17, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

We’re having an event (where I’ll speak and a fantastically talented singer-songwriter will perform) at our church. You’re invited, of course, but that’s not exactly what I want to talk about right now. A very great friend sent out an all-staff email with the flyer to invite those at the company where she works. Maybe this was a horrific breach of the separation of church & state, sacred & secular, religion & profession. Or maybe this was an irresponsible use of corporate communication channels. Or maybe this was simply a woman sharing her interests with her co-workers. (It was probably all of those.) Either way, she was quickly reprimanded, because…someone was offended and complained.

Is it an issue of ‘personal use’ or religious content? Who knows, the administration is appropriately vague. I wonder if all personal communications (like “Sally had her baby!!!” “Sally has extra tickets to the Phillies game,” “Sally’s husband is in surgery right now,” or even, “Sally is raising money for hurricane relief in North Carolina”) are banned. Or just religious messages (the only religious vocabulary or imagery on our flyer was the word “faith” in the address)? And who says what’s religious? The national religions are sports and/or commerce, so does anything having to do with those topics get flagged? Can I remind people to vote? Can I send a birthday card around? Or are we automatons strictly confined to professional conversation? Is it just email? Can I still ask you about your car accident or pet’s death, or is any acknowledgment that you have an outside life offensive?

Obviously, I’m overreacting, using absurdity to illustrate the absurd. But there is something here, isn’t there? This is not “persecution” or Christian “censorship.” We sometimes lob these kinds of words like grenades that do nothing but de-value and desensitize us to actual persecution, which does exist (just not here).

If you sent out an email I don’t like – or if, in this case, if I would NEVER go to your event – I would delete it. That’s all. Then I would go on with my day. Maybe someone else would go to your event, and in that case, I hope you all have fun. In fact, I want lots and lots to go, because we are human beings and people should enjoy themselves. Even if I wouldn’t enjoy myself at their shindig. But I still want to know about Sally’s life, Joe’s passion for pickle ball, or Jim’s grass cutting business.

As the notion of tolerance grows, I wonder why we’re all so much more offendable? Shouldn’t our pretend tolerance make us all very open to your thing, whatever your thing is? This is why tolerance is a ridiculous joke – because no one actually believes it, in the slightest. I would’ve put it in the above list of American religions, but we build our lives around Sunday afternoons and Black Friday, but almost no one cares what tolerance actually is, and less than ‘almost no one’ follows it’s basic tenets.

The only time tolerance matters is when I ask you to tolerate MY idea, belief, or opinion. Tolerance is a one way street, not a revolving door. It’s a farce that’s time has come and gone. How about we let it die and Rest In Peace.

Tolerance is such a low bar, anyway. How about we love each other? How about we celebrate each other’s differences, instead of merely tolerating them, like I tolerate the ulcer in my mouth or the bunions on my feet? We’re people, not social nuisances. Sometimes people have interests that you might not, and that is wonderful. It gives us and our world texture and color. Maybe you’d like my event, even if you don’t like singer-songwriters or brownies or my face, and maybe you wouldn’t. But that’s not the point at all. The point is that pretending to worship tolerance has gotten our feelings in such a twist, we are offended at mostly everything, enjoy nothing, and our world continues to divide and shrink. Love can open us up to new people, new experiences, new stories, new hands to hold and songs to hear, and in this season of divided, small perspectives, can’t we all use a bit of that sort of new?

Decisions, Decisions

October 8, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

I think, if I had to pick one sentence from Sunday’s message that was the hardest to say, and to hear, it would be: “If he chooses to honor her, if she chooses to honor him…” Whatever comes next, those words are so charged with meaning and possibility. What if he did? What if she did? Then what?

I also wanted to share what I heard in a video on Instagram. An interviewer asked a woman if she was married, and she said yes. At this point, it was very light, she was smiley and easy-going. He then asked her if HE was happy. “Is he happy?” This was surprising, to her, and to me. She restated the question, making sure that she heard correctly, then said, “I thought you’d ask me if I was happy.” He said he wanted to care for him, too. I know, right!??! The mood between them changed, as if he attacked her. She became silent and sullen, finally saying, “**** you,” which I guess, answered the question without answering the question.

I wonder what we’d say if we were asked the same question about our relationships. More than just our marriages, would our friends say they’re happy and valued in our company? Do they feel important, heard, cared for, by us? How about our children? Just to be sure, I told the Angel, if anyone ever asked her, that yes, I was awfully happy. She told me she was, too.

If you had the courage to ask your husband/wife if he/she was happy, what would he/she say? Do you know the answer? Would they tell you the truth? How would you react if the answer was no? Would you be offended, would you pout and make them feel like they shouldn’t have answered so honestly? Would you respond the way that woman in the video did?

Of course, I want all of us to say “Yes,” but I am fully aware that many of us would not. In that case, would the answer change IF he chooses to honor her, IF she chooses to honor him?

One last observation. What is the only requirement to changing the environment between us? Or our environment anywhere? Our choice to act. If we knew we could change the space in our homes with one choice, would we make that decision? Would we stop keeping score, cutting with our words, detaching, punishing each other with our tones or disconnection? Would we speak positively, encourage, and support each other?

And, apparently, what I meant was 2 more observations. The 2nd is…what would our lives look like IF we chose to honor ourselves? Maybe that’s an even bigger ask. We often speak to us in a more destructive manner than we would ever speak to another. We commit such acts of violence towards ourselves, whether it is staying in abusive relationships, acting as if we are absolutely worthless in countless ways.

…And all (I say “all” fully knowing it’s a Herculean “all”) it takes is a choice. And then another, and another, and another. Until everything is different, a whole new creation.

Love With A Capital L

A journey towards living an inspired life of love in the modern world

Author: The Bridge Faith Community