Ponderings

Scarcity means an insufficient supply, and we believe in the truth of scarcity. We accept funding shortages that drive the teacher shortage in our urban schools, the reduction of services for the disabled, and the disregard for crumbling infrastructure of our urban core. We believe that there isn’t enough, and in our believing we find reality.

As I read “On Beyond Zebra” (Dr. Seuss) in the shadows of our St. Louis public school disgrace, I am aware that the results of our theology of scarcity are neither neutrality nor emptiness.

When we gather together millions of youngsters, house them in squalor for the better part of each waking day, require moronic rhythms of passive obedience, fail to provide safety with adequate supervision, fill their bellies with trans fats and preservatives (while preaching about obesity), we are not teaching nothing. We are inculcating our children with self loathing and limitation. We are destroying wonder and preparing a society of disdain for educated inquiry.

Educational reform, or the lack thereof, is not new. More than fifty years ago John Hersey published an article in Life magazine deploring the state of public education. Hersey described, “pallid primers [with] abnormally courteous, unnaturally clean boys and girls”. He believed that school was so dull that it was numbing the minds of our children. Trying to further this point he published a prophetic sci-fi novel entitled “Child Buyer” which attacked the rigidity of the public school system and showed the ways in which such stilted education actually destroys wonder and creativity.

Fads come and go, as do politicians.
But the lasting effects of our theology of scarcity?
Tragically these are felt into the seventh generation.

Dr. Seuss’ work stood in stark contrast to the drivel that Hersey railed upon and Seuss’ “On Beyond Zebra” specifically addresses the problem of unimaginative classrooms and the restrictions we place in learning. Conrad Cornelius o’Donald o’Dell assumes that the alphabet stops at “z” as he has been taught. He is comfortable in the world he knows, the world that is spelled with 26 letters. But what if there is more? What if we don’t limit ourselves to 26? Seuss invites us to wonder ‘what if?’

Our gospel lessons beckons to this kind of believing, a believing in possibility, promise, and yes, abundance. Far beyond the confines of reason and rules, free of a theology of perimeters and paucity, a hungry crowd is fed by one small lunch. This small and insignificant lunch, when shared and blessed, feeds the multitude and more.

What if we approached the education of our children with the same theology of abundance with which we fund the war machine? What if we allocated funds as unquestioningly for the disabled adult’s wheel chair as we do for the inmate chains?

Our theology of scarcity is a choice, a choice we must change.

Everybody knows that somebody should be held responsible when five innocent children are drowned in the tub. An eye for an eye demands the sacrifice of alot of lives. And though we begrudgingly accept that people with financial means can often buy sacrificial lambs, common folk spend alot of time on death row to feed our communal need for payback.

But today something changed. Somebody, 12 somebodies, decided that five senseless deaths were enough. Andrea Yates was found “not guilty by reason of insanity”. No one questions whether Andrea’s hands are responsible for the death of her precious children, the question was whether her mind and heart are culpable. This jury said no. She will be committed now to a psychiatric facility where, God willing, her mind and spirit will continue to heal.

Zealots of the world take note, a seemingly small but seismic shift in our communal need for blood lust has been detected.

Dear God, may we have the grace to move with the ripples.

Taken aback by Condolezza Rice’s discounting of a possible ceasefire in the Israeli-Hezbollah struggle, I was impressed to read this morning that she had put herself on the ground in Beirut. Perhaps her dismissal signaled a respect for the gravity of the situation rather than an acceptable level of violence. Given that she has reportedly charmed men across Europe, I’d be happy to see her schmooze for peace in the Middle East.

So I was surprised to read Arab source’s interpretation of her visit. Not everyone is pleased. Rice’s visit is seen by many as one more imperialist imposition. And though we might be tempted to dismiss this interpretation, MSNBC quotes Rice’s boss (Bush) as putting a shine on the current crisis with,”Sometimes, in order to get others to act with us,” he says, “there has to be conditions on the ground that make the case better than I can make it.” After this kind of palm greasing, Rice will need additional body guards.

I continue to find myself in tangled in the Gordian Knot. I hear the Who’s calling in Arabic and Hebrew. Children on all sides of our artificial lines cry for food and for fear. I am persuaded by the passion of my Rabbi friend who visits Israel when he can. I am moved by the truths of the “Angry Arab” and his blogspot. Daily I drink from the deep spiritual well of Chabad.org and notice the Zionist politics. After reading CNN Quick News each morning, I turn to Aljazeera for another view. Quite frankly, I don’t understand and I suspect that I never will.

What I do know is that our nation’s leadership is not calming the waters for those who fill my prayers. Each interview with President Bush or Condolezza Rice seems to pour more fuel on the flames. Humility and compassion would be the order of the day, but our current models for diplomacy seem more in the vein of manipulation and intimidation. And they aren’t working.

Even as I pray for our government officials to come home and tend to the work in my weary city, as a pacifist committed to proactive work for peace I do not want to ignore the growing crisis in Lebanon that in no small measure was kindled by my nation state. I find myself wondering where the real peace makers of our time are hiding? Where is Desmond Tutu? Surely a Truth and Reconciliation team would be more effective than our continued antagonism. Let’s gather the Nobel Peace Prize winners of the past two decades and send them on a mission with our blessings and our checkbooks.

But maybe that is the problem. We want Condolezza to schmooze peace without the checkbook, without the promise of justice, without the hope of economic freedom. We don’t really want to know about the history of our nation’s involvment in both the politics and the economics of the region. We don’t want to know the painful details of colonialism or the crusades or anti-semitism. We would rather not have to see the ways in which our current American lifestyle is dependent on ruthless regimes half a world away. We don’t really want to help rebuild what we have (perhaps unwittingly) torn down in Afghanistand and Iraq. We want to go home, but we don’t want to first pick up the toys. And peace, real and lasting peace, may start with a cease fire but never lasts without justice.

We worshipped today without benefit of AmerenUE. No electric meant no coffee, no microphone, and no pipe organ.

Still we enjoyed the shadows of the stained glass windows as we shared familiar tunes led by piano, guitar, violin and bassoon. Still we listened to the wit and wisdom of Dr. Seuss and the writers of the books we call sacred. Still felt the spirit dance in our midst.

Much of what we “need” really isn’t, and much of what we have we do not appreciate. Still our cars ran and the water flowed, still our privelege offered choice and laughter was the order of the day. We may not have had what we wanted but we had much more than we needed. We had enough.

This much I pray for all of God’s children… enough. Enough food, enough shelter, enough love. This is what I witnessed today, and for this I pray.

It’s late now and my family is winding down… Winnie still chattering at her dad. Tonight was the Bandaid for Darfur Concert, a benefit concert organized by my 14 year old daughter with the INCREDIBLE support of musical friends. The concert was made all the more challenging by the power outages in St. Louis - still 20% of our population is without electricity! Although our church has no power, the seminary (just down the street) was the venue and they do have power (but no phones).

Although my publicity efforts with the wider community were not terribly successful, our church community was out in force. They came with their picnic basics, their friends, and their good spirits. They shared both the passion of Darfur and the joy of possibility.

As my daughter beamed, and the donations jar topped $1000, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for a community so loving.

With gratitude for Susan and Julie, Donita and Miriam, Claire and her band, Zach and his… with gratitude for the parishioners who spent a Saturday night on the lawn, playing and laughing and believing… with gratitude for college students dispatched from our local “Save Darfur Coalition”… with gratitude for a daughter…

Good night.