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Table of Contents - Winter 2005
Breakfast At The Elite
Café—November, 1963 The year was 1963. The 175th year of our nation’s life. President John F. Kennedy was completing his first term in office. Abroad our country was
engaged in a “cold war” with the communist-bloc countries, including Cuba just
ninety miles away. Thousands of American soldiers were massed along the 39th
parallel that divided North and South Korea guarding an uneasy truce. The United
States was escalating its involvement in the war in Vietnam with 25,000
advisors. Pilgrim in a Racist Land
The story did not begin with me. And long after I am gone, the story will journey on into the ages. But the caravan did come by here. And I climbed aboard. Ohhh, dat Gospel
train’s a comin’ The Gospel was the hope of
Negroes in the segregated South when I was growing up in the 1950s and 1960s in
Mississippi. Negroes looked forward to the day when that “Gospel Train” would
spring their sweet escape from a racist “hell on earth” and land them in the
celestial bliss of a peaceful, just, eternal heaven. Some of us Whites dreamed
too. Responsa from the Rabbi
Though few will concede it, there is more than one way to fight evil. The order to kill every pregnant Jewish woman had been issued that morning. So when a Nazi guard patrolling the Jewish ghetto in Kovno noticed a pregnant Jew walking past the local hospital, he shot her at point-blank range. She died on the spot. Hoping to save the baby,
some passersby rushed the dead woman into the hospital. An obstetrician
determined that she had been in her last weeks of pregnancy, and said that if
surgery were performed immediately, her baby might be rescued.
Evolution Of Faith
Salvation came for me Thou Shalt Not
Kill Note: The author is a veteran of the first Gulf War and the son-in-law of regular poetry contributor Al Staggs. The article reveals the anguish some in the military face when the reality of war becomes very personal. What follows is an
account of the moment that I became a conscientious objector. About eighteen
months after this, I was honorably discharged as an objector. To this day, the
logic of war baffles me, especially among those who claim they follow a man of
peace. For me, it came down to what seems to me to be one of the easier
commandments to follow: Thou shalt not kill (Exodus 20:13).
Updated Saturday, March 26, 2005 |
The Parable of the Bowl of
Soup—Part I The phone message said, “Hal, this is Elton Moy. I’ve been thinking about you. Call me at 505-462-XXXX.” Area 505 is New Mexico—out of my territory. The name Elton Moy was vaguely familiar. Toward the end of the day it came to me. There were four of us
standing by an open grave in the cemetery in Kenedy, Texas. The year was 1995. I
read the twenty-third Psalm and said a prayer. We buried 90-year-old Lennie
Pierce. The four were Mr. and Mrs. Moy, their son Elton, and I. We buried the
“Bag Lady” from San Antonio. Dr. King’s Kitchen
It has been a difficult year
for the Christian witness in the United States. In fact, it’s hard for me to
imagine a period in my lifetime when the integrity of the Christian faith has
not more compromised or threatened—and I grew up Baptist in the Jim Crow South!
The widespread misuse by religious and political elites of the language of faith
and the “philosophy of Jesus Christ” is absolutely heartbreaking; no doubt the
integrity and mystery of the faith has been cheapened in our zeal to be
Christian patriots. Perhaps we should heed Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s sobering advice
in his letters and papers from prison that at such times a period of holy
silence is in order.
The
Minister as a Star-Thrower
Several years ago a tramp comedian named Bilbo was a genius at pantomime. His
audiences loved him. He always finished his act with a pair of oversized yellow
shoes with big toes sticking out under the stage curtain. All the audience could
see from behind the closed curtain was Bilbo’s big yellow shoes, with a
spotlight shining on them. As long as the spotlight was on the shoes, the
audience continued to applaud. The Parable of the Bowl of
Soup—Part I The phone message said, “Hal, this is Elton Moy. I’ve been thinking about you. Call me at 505-462-XXXX.” Area 505 is New Mexico—out of my territory. The name Elton Moy was vaguely familiar. Toward the end of the day it came to me. There were four of us
standing by an open grave in the cemetery in Kenedy, Texas. The year was 1995. I
read the twenty-third Psalm and said a prayer. We buried 90-year-old Lennie
Pierce. The four were Mr. and Mrs. Moy, their son Elton, and I. We buried the
“Bag Lady” from San Antonio. Fundamentalism Will Never Bring Peace
The core belief of Fundamentalism is the
conviction that we are right and everyone else is wrong. Because of this
compulsion about truth, it becomes essential that everyone else share the same
beliefs. It has been this religious conviction that has brought about the
greatest bloodshed in human history. This is at the heart of the
Catholic-Protestant war in Ireland and the Jewish-Arab wars in the Middle East.
Perhaps the ugliest expression in recent years of this mentality is the Nazi
Aryan Supremacy movement which resulted in the death of millions of Jews. Even
today, it seems inconceivable that the nation that produced scores of
theologians, musicians, artists, and scientist, could produce such an evil
movement and evil man. And the underpinnings of these atrocities were
religiously based! This is Fundamentalism at its worst.
Reflections By An SBC
Refugee
A common practice of
politicians and religious proponents, who lack confidence that their actions and
pronouncements can withstand thoughtful scrutiny, is to label and stigmatize
others who question their assertions. Common examples of labels used in this way
include the adjectives anti-Christian, anti-god, atheistic, godless, heretical,
liberal, non-biblical, satanic, secular, ungodly, and unpatriotic. A deceased
southern governor who campaigned as a candidate for the U.S. presidency several
years ago demolished and silenced many who were inclined to criticize his
actions and policies by labeling them “pointy headed intellectuals.” Sometime
back, right- wing religious figures often destroyed the credibility and
relevance of those with differing views by labeling them as advocates of social
gospel, as humanists, and more horrifically as secular humanists. If the
reflections that follow fail to elicit a label in the above vein, such failure
will probably reveal a disappointing amount of impact. Book Reviews
Book Reviews Da Vinci Code: Remedy
Good News; Bad News
Today I have some good
news and some bad news. Prophets are folks who
forthtell the word of the Lord; and the world is everlastingly in need of
authentic forthtellers for God. No pussyfooting. No hemming and hawing. No
equivocating. No cost counting. No testing of the wind to see which way it is
blowing. No poll taking. No mealy-mouthing. Just a clear, “Thus saith the Lord.”
Prophets are true believers who share Amos’ unnuanced conviction:
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