As I watch all the turmoil of the presidential clamor that has been underway for some time, the caucusing in Iowa now behind them and New Hampshire the next challenge, I wonder, “can it be better…how did things get so difficult for so many people”? Turn on CNN (when I’m bored!), pick up a news magazine (I don’t!), poke around the internet (usually not current events for me!)—even a little—and the story is everywhere. Frankly, to me it doesn’t matter who the players are because the characters haven’t changed, only some of the names. I don’t claim to be anything more than embarrassingly ill-informed, although I know painfully well the issues that matter to me.
Politics for the presidency, politics for control in the church, politics around the globe, everywhere so many are clamoring to be heard, to be chosen, anointed, to lead, to control, and sadly, to be right. Maybe this matters to us more than anything else. Yes, I got it right, I’ve got it right, I’ve figured it out, I am saved, and what I have to offer will save you too! I shake my head…I don’t know about that. I can’t stump about what’s right or who’s right, getting it right—being saved, salvation for sure, if you will—and I sure wouldn’t want to be the chief of anything. I never wanted to be a fireman, policeman, astronaut, or whatever else little boys say they want to be when they grow up.
Poor me, I’ve lived in poverty of ambition, lacking the drive to make lots of money, although I sure do appreciate the things money can buy. Sadly, though, even that’s gotten a lot tougher. Millions are being spent by those who are vying to be the next commander-in-chief of the United States, the so-called savior of democracy. The numbers leave my head spinning. I’m not stupid. I recognize the realities of modern-day campaigns. That doesn’t change how sickened my heart becomes when I think about the plight of the masses. I can’t even begin to wrap my brain around the utter day-to-day struggles of third-world peoples without first paying attention to New Orleans, or the troubled reality of millions of middle class Americans who are sacrificing one necessity to provide for another. My own private health insurance now exceeds $500 a month, and for that I get a few pathetic discounts here and there. It’s catastrophic insurance. I backed into a car in a parking lot last October—unfortunately the bumper of a BMW (what irony!)—and now my car insurance has escalated by 40%. Don’t believe the Allstate commercials on TV.
I am blessed, and blessed certainly by comparison to millions of others who own citizenship in these United States of America. Emma Lazarus wrote in 1883…
"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
And when I think about Africans dying from HIV/Aids, malaria, starvation, genocide--all the above--victims in Asia-Pacific of tsunami, child prostitution, Americans who simply can’t afford health insurance, or American families who choose between food and medicine, or who have to choose gasoline—over what?—or who are homeless, and then I think about the millions that will be spent on the 2008 presidential campaign, I am what? Am I disgusted, appalled, saddened, shocked into some kind of new reality, given a wake-up call, thankful for my own modest privilege, driven to words, actions? What am I? If nothing else, I am reminded. Thank God I have a working brain. Thank God for my home, its warmth, healthy food, medicine, for my family and friends. Thank God I have a conscience, and sometimes, sometimes, I answer the call of that conscience. Thank God I have extra money to drop in the Salvation Army red kettle during the Christmas Season, and thank God that I choose to do so. Thank God for all the millions of people who populate this earth who see need and answer its call, day in and day out. Thank the God of us all—the God of Abraham that unites us rather than separates us. Thank God for the words of St. Paul that remind us of the gift of charity.
“1Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. 2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. 3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
4 Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, 5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; 6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; 7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
8 Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. 9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. 10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. 11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. 12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. 13 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.” (Paul’s letter to the Corinthians—1 Corinthians 13)
Presidential elections, wars based on trumped-up motives, confused priorities—personal and otherwise—and missed opportunities. I need to do better, and I want to do better. I want to do better not only for myself but for others as well. I want to think some more about that filter a priest told me about recently, the one that helps me decide how, who, and when to help. Most of all, I just want to take my hand out of my pocket, and I’d like to see others doing the same thing, based on clarified priorities, recognized opportunities, and hope for a better world. Thy kingdom come, indeed.
Gifts and Blessings—Normangee, Texas (January 5, 2008)
R. Harold Hollis
Politics for the presidency, politics for control in the church, politics around the globe, everywhere so many are clamoring to be heard, to be chosen, anointed, to lead, to control, and sadly, to be right. Maybe this matters to us more than anything else. Yes, I got it right, I’ve got it right, I’ve figured it out, I am saved, and what I have to offer will save you too! I shake my head…I don’t know about that. I can’t stump about what’s right or who’s right, getting it right—being saved, salvation for sure, if you will—and I sure wouldn’t want to be the chief of anything. I never wanted to be a fireman, policeman, astronaut, or whatever else little boys say they want to be when they grow up.
Poor me, I’ve lived in poverty of ambition, lacking the drive to make lots of money, although I sure do appreciate the things money can buy. Sadly, though, even that’s gotten a lot tougher. Millions are being spent by those who are vying to be the next commander-in-chief of the United States, the so-called savior of democracy. The numbers leave my head spinning. I’m not stupid. I recognize the realities of modern-day campaigns. That doesn’t change how sickened my heart becomes when I think about the plight of the masses. I can’t even begin to wrap my brain around the utter day-to-day struggles of third-world peoples without first paying attention to New Orleans, or the troubled reality of millions of middle class Americans who are sacrificing one necessity to provide for another. My own private health insurance now exceeds $500 a month, and for that I get a few pathetic discounts here and there. It’s catastrophic insurance. I backed into a car in a parking lot last October—unfortunately the bumper of a BMW (what irony!)—and now my car insurance has escalated by 40%. Don’t believe the Allstate commercials on TV.
I am blessed, and blessed certainly by comparison to millions of others who own citizenship in these United States of America. Emma Lazarus wrote in 1883…
"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
And when I think about Africans dying from HIV/Aids, malaria, starvation, genocide--all the above--victims in Asia-Pacific of tsunami, child prostitution, Americans who simply can’t afford health insurance, or American families who choose between food and medicine, or who have to choose gasoline—over what?—or who are homeless, and then I think about the millions that will be spent on the 2008 presidential campaign, I am what? Am I disgusted, appalled, saddened, shocked into some kind of new reality, given a wake-up call, thankful for my own modest privilege, driven to words, actions? What am I? If nothing else, I am reminded. Thank God I have a working brain. Thank God for my home, its warmth, healthy food, medicine, for my family and friends. Thank God I have a conscience, and sometimes, sometimes, I answer the call of that conscience. Thank God I have extra money to drop in the Salvation Army red kettle during the Christmas Season, and thank God that I choose to do so. Thank God for all the millions of people who populate this earth who see need and answer its call, day in and day out. Thank the God of us all—the God of Abraham that unites us rather than separates us. Thank God for the words of St. Paul that remind us of the gift of charity.
“1Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. 2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. 3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
4 Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, 5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; 6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; 7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
8 Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. 9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. 10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. 11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. 12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. 13 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.” (Paul’s letter to the Corinthians—1 Corinthians 13)
Presidential elections, wars based on trumped-up motives, confused priorities—personal and otherwise—and missed opportunities. I need to do better, and I want to do better. I want to do better not only for myself but for others as well. I want to think some more about that filter a priest told me about recently, the one that helps me decide how, who, and when to help. Most of all, I just want to take my hand out of my pocket, and I’d like to see others doing the same thing, based on clarified priorities, recognized opportunities, and hope for a better world. Thy kingdom come, indeed.
Gifts and Blessings—Normangee, Texas (January 5, 2008)
R. Harold Hollis
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