Geez. Here it is not even two months after sweating through the last end-of-the-world revelation for the end of May; I say, here we are, a mere seven weeks after that calamity and just over the habit of pinching ourselves for the realization that, yes, indeedy, we’re still here. A mere seven weeks, and already we’re staring at a whole new Armageddon on the calendar: August 6th; rat heah in Houston, bubba. That’s the day revealed to (I assume) and proclaimed by our noble uber christian governor Rick Goodhair Perry for “a solemn gathering of prayer and fasting for our country”. It’s being billed as The Response: A Call to Prayer for a Nation in Crisis” (http://theresponseusa.com/). At the (of course) Reliant Center, 10:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., finishing the fast, I guess, in time for dinner.
Says Goodhair the cronymeister and corruption prince and presidential wannabe: ‘We believe that America is in a state of crisis. Not just politically, financially or morally, but because we are a nation that has not honored God in our successes or humbly called on Him in our struggles. According to the Bible, the answer to a nation in such crisis is to gather in humility and repentance and ask God to intervene. The Response will be a historic gathering of people from across the nation to pray and fast for America.’ And other equally ghastly stuff. It’s rather like Pilate seeking direction from Jesus. He pretty much misses the point that living justly–with politics searching for justice and financial justice and morals committed to justice for even the least–this is exactly what it means to honor God, as in, say, with Jesus ‘I was a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, hungry and you fed me, in prison and you visited me.’
The Right Reverend Goodhair, the leader of the state which accounts for a third of all the executions in the country who refused to stay an innocent man’s execution and then buried the evidence of his innocence; the prophet-in-chief of the state tied for the third highest incarceration rate in the nation at 668 prisoners per 100,000 people–for a total of 168,105 (with another 428,773 on probation) (wanna take a stab at the racial stats?) for whom we spend $25,000 each per year to keep caged–about three times what we spend educating a kid–he says we’re not honoring God so we gotta pray and fast and ask for a miracle. Mr. Spiritual Perception claims we are not honoring God. Yowzee! There’s a revelation for ya.
The issue of course is just what god is it we are not honoring? What god will be appeased by those seven hours of dominionist groveling and crowing? It creates a scene out of the pagan Roman empire, a couple of senators strolling along in togas, one says to the other, ‘Hey Claudius, let’s stop at the temple before going to the forum and throw a sacrifice to the goddess; get that bitch off our backs so we can do business without interference.’ But not even these guys were particularly original, since the prophet Amos dealt with the same thing about oh, 750 years before Jesus
I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.
Even though you offer me your burnt-offerings and grain-offerings, I will not accept them,
and the offerings of well-being of your fatted animals I will not look upon.
Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps.
But let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
Uh-oh, there, Bible-believin’ Goodhair; you might be havin’ a problem. Not only because ‘justice’ and ‘righteousness’ mean the same thing–right relationships among peoples, especially for the least, the conditions that make for God’s shalom. But your show also sounds like that scene on Mt. Carmel where all the prophets of Baal go to moaning and whining and gonging and howling and cutting themselves to no abaal (heh-heh) from an unhearing impotent god. Actually, a couple of months back Preacher Goodhair called for a day of prayer for rain in light of the all time record-breaking drought we’ve been experiencing. Since then we’ve had not quite an inch, if you total the three occasions. A god with prostate problems. How’s that workin’ out for you, buddy?
Of course this is nothing more than religious kabuki where Goodhair (and others) can strut his way right wing tribalistic Goodhair Religion and thus become Goodhair President. Or at least building up the reptilian tribalism of them all.
And the minions of haters-for-Jesus will be showing up at this circus like a Volkswagen full of clowns. But instead of jumbling out in a turmoil of yelling and whistles and big floppy shoes and polka-doted bow ties and red rubber noses and plastic flowers that squirt water and honking bicycle horns these guys will arrive on private jets in tailored suits and hop in limos to palatial hotel suites to end their excruciating 7-hour fast with champagne and caviar. And instead of the slapstick mayhem of squirting seltzer bottles and exploding paddles on pillowed rumps these clowns spew spite and fear and intolerance and anger and the animosity of their god toward anyone different than themselves and then they dress up the golden calf in a flag and a cross.
But I know a circus when I see one. After getting out of the army I spent about six weeks as the lone brass player in a circus ‘band’, which in reality consisted of the drummer, the organist and me the trombone player (they couldn’t find a trumpet player). Occasionally they would hire a local pickup band. It was supposed to be maybe a six-month traveling gig, but it didn’t last: I got fired in Jacksonville (FL) for insufficient loudness–circuses do not care about nuances–and I drove out of town after the last show on the night the race riots broke out. The only difference with that circus was that the people–both the attendees and the performers–knew it was a show. They didn’t pretend it was real nor god. They knew the spotlight on them was not a halo. They took their red rubber noses off after the show.
And they left town peacefully. Goodhair and Gang, on the other big floppy foot, never take off their red rubber noses ’cause they’re always in the spotlight and take it for a halo and they despise peace. They thrive on conflict, pitting brother and sister against sister and brother in the guise of righteous purity. They build their religious edifice in service to greed and the lust for power. And now they’re gonna pray and fast and ask for a miracle? Who do they think they’re fooling–and fooling with?
On my first pastors’ sailing trip in the British Virgin Islands our resource theologian was the legendary sem prof Dr. Gerhard Forde, an old (now, rip) pious fellow from the plains of North Dakota or some place. On the second night maybe five of our crew of ten were at Foxy’s Beach Bar on Jost Van Dyke having a drink when No Shit Jack came dancing up. I’d met him down there a few years earlier, the moniker being a no-brainer given his consistent openers ‘Now this is no shit’ as if this were, in fact, a unique event. He loved the idea of me being a Lutheran pastor as he prided himself on being a New York City agnostic Jew psychologizer type quite used to besting anyone in Central Park in philosophical debate (so long as there was an audience). So when I introduced him to Gerhard the theologian he pounced with the bravado of a guy dancing to rum: ‘Prove to me there’s a god! Prove to me there’s a god!’ dancing on the sand in and out from the picnic table while his wife danced on watching.
Soft-spoken Gerhard responds in a professorial way, ”Well, you have to start thinking about. . .’ he begins, but No Shit ain’t having it, ‘Prove it! Prove it!’ Four times Soft-spoken Gerhard tries to begin And four times No Shit cuts him off demanding proof, each time more triumphally than the last as if shutting a guy up wins the debate (which it might in NYC), until No Shit is staring at Soft-spoken with a prideful victorious gleam in his eye, which Gerhard returns for a pause then speaks softly, ‘Well, wait and see.’ And the rest of us fell out to laughter.
So the Clowns of Baal, Lord of the Flies, shall gather and put on their show and parade their piety and establish their political alliances and the whole thing is only for unique kinds of Christians, ala ‘We’re gonna pray for the nation, but our god don’t want the likes of you around.’ They’ll strut in their religiosity and swagger in their power and and savor the certainty of their rightness and celebrate their exclusivity as god’s agents. For this they know, is the will of god.
And I can hear Gerhard speaking softly: ‘Oh yeah? Wait and see.’
The formula is simple: that nation, state, and/or community which honors its poorest and most vulnerable members with the highest priority in care is honored by God. And that which doesn’t isn’t, dance and gong and moan all you want.
Wait and see.
Larry
Kwikie Komments