The Beatitudes and Politics, Part 1: Blessed Are the Poor in Spirit: for Theirs Is the Kingdom of Heaven

 

A couple of days ago, on the commute home, I was listening to an NPR news story that covered presidential candidate Bernie Sanders speaking at a Christian school.  The students were thankful for his visit, but there seemed to be an automatic assumption by the students that they could not be good Christians and vote for Sanders.  I thought that odd, because my Christian values push me towards candidates like Sanders (although on a few select issues the other side of the political spectrum appeals more).  It got me thinking, is there a way to accurately measure a candidate's political positions against the doctrine of Christ?; is it all a matter of interpretation?; or is it a little of both?

Now, before proceeding, I want to be upfront about two assumptions: 1) Separation of church and state and secularism are vital for healthy democracies; 2) There are self-evident, fixed eternal moral truths that are not relative which are exemplified by the teachings of Jesus.  These truths can be rationally tested by creating thought-scenarios and applying them in the same manner Buddhist monks experiment on reality by creating mental scenarios.  Buddha's teachings, many Native American teachings, and I assume many Hindu teachings, as well as the teaching of Mohammad are similar to those of Christ, so it is the perfect principles I'm advocating here, not religious unity.  I chose Christianity as my exemplar for two reasons: a) I'm a Christian; it's what I know best and believe; b) to be blunt, I believe many who profess Christian values in their politics are actually practicing outside their belief system without being aware of it. 

I will proceed simply by using the beatitudes as found in Mathew Chapter 5 of the King James Bible, unpacking their meaning or possible multiple-meanings and applying to current political issues to see how each party measures up on that particular beatitude.  I will also use other scriptures from the new Testament where Christ explains or extends the meaning of a particular beatitude. 

My preferred outcome would not be that one party win or lose, but that people realize they are perhaps not as partisan as they thought.  We have become so good at waving political banners, we've forgotten how to think before we vote.  But, we'll see.  Who knows, I may have to do some mental adjusting.  That would be a good thing.  A static mind is a dead mind.

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

If poor here has its usual definition of "worse than expected or desired," than "poor in spirit," to my thinking can mean one of two things:  a) to be  literally suffering spiritually; or b) to have the humility to be teachable--to desire a spiritual tune-up.

I tend to think it means both.  Christ is providing comfort.  Your heart is aching, but fear not, I am here.  If that is the case, the reward for that suffering is automatic.  "Theirs is the kingdom of heaven."  No application needed.  Instant help and mercy for the broken-hearted.

The second meaning requires work to obtain "the kingdom of heaven."  Poverty here is not a negative condition but a desirable goal.  It is the humility necessary to remain teachable, and not all will obtain it because their egos will get in the way.

It seems clear to  me through other passages that Christ means both, particularly in passages dealing with judgment:

3 And the scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taken in adultery; and when they had set her in the midst,

 4 They say unto him, Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act.

 5 Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou?

 6 This they said, tempting him, that they might have to accuse him. But Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not.

 7 So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.

 8 And again he stooped down, and wrote on the ground.

 9 And they which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the last: and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst.

 10 When Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee?

 11 She said, No man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.

 12 ¶Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.  (John 8:3-12)

Here he applies both meanings of the beatitude.  The woman is violated in multiple ways: 1) A sense of privacy has clearly been broken; 2) a double-standard (sexism) is in place as it takes two to commit adultery, but only she is brought before Jesus; 3) her sins, unlike those of the scribes and Pharisees have been publically exposed.  As a result, she is anguished.  He feels her pain and instantly absolves her sins:  Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.

The scribes and Pharisees, on the other hand, fail to meet the other definition of "poor in spirit."  Until he rebukes them, they lack the humility to choose the right.  They take a bad situation and make it worse through a lack of empathy. 

The question is, why does Christ rebuke the scribes and Pharisees and not the woman?  She too has sinned; yet he gives her a blank check (provided she "sin no more".)

I think the answer to that is clear.  The Pharisees were members of a movement towards religious puritanism.  They believed the Torah was the final word of God, adequate for all purposes and all times.  In other words, they were the fundamentalist-leaning clergy of their time.  The scribes were the educated writers, copiers and bookmen, many of whom were members of the highest legal administration in the state.  In other words, the Pharisees and scribes were the power-holders of their time; the woman, we may assume, had no economic or political clout.  It's not so much that the woman is innocent, but that she is disadvantaged.  The scribes already have their reward; he is assuring her that if she changes, she will have "the Kingdom of Heaven."  That is where justice comes in.

It is not hard to apply the lessons of this beatitude to the political issues of our time.  At first I was going to analyze specific issues and rate each of the party's performance on that issue based on the outcome.  But, I think I'll avoid that.   Instead, I want to formulate for myself the questions I should ask when voting on either issues or candidates.

1.  Does this proposition or candidate I'm considering allow people a reasonable path to redemption?  In other words, does it assert the right of everyone to a fresh start or a new beginning?
2.  Does this proposition or candidate I'm considering hold those in power accountable for their elevated social stature?

These questions are not partisan.  They are not based on interpretations of scripture.  They are literally derived from the first beatitude, "Blessed Are the Poor in Spirit: Theirs Is the Kingdom of Heaven" found in Mathew Chapter 5 and the account of woman taken in adultery found in John Chapter 8.













 

On Insanity

We have this new puppy, and he has this obsession with water.  I wouldn’t call it love.  Often, it seems more like hate.  When I water the garden, he tries to bite the water coming out of the hose.  Then, when he gets wet, it makes him angry, so he rushes in for the attack again.  When he gets too angry, he starts trampling my plants, so I have to turn it on him.  That temporarily makes him fall back, but as soon as I move the hose, he thinks he has a chance to move in for the kill, and the process starts all over.  When the war is done, he stands shivering and defeated.

I’ve started locking him up when I water both because I don’t like him trampling my plants during his water raids and because I feel sorry for him.

I’d post the video, but I’m pretty sure it’d get millions of views, and then I’d be pissed because I’ve posted some pretty meaningful reflections on my blog that have received three.

I think the internet audience is my water and I’m as stupid as that damn dog.

 

 

Pulse (Love, Poetry & Paulo Nutini)

            for Marci

Listening to you listen

to music is a slow

unwinding, a deep

letting go, a blue

knowing, deep

and growing

underground.

There is soil here.

Years of experience

broken down by time

memories layered up, thick

black and real,

two trees

sending signals

underground.

Vibes.   Sounds cliché.

Sleek silver bullet train.

The way you move

through me.

If there was an empty

parking lot in a horribly large and unkind

city, and I found myself

staring down at moonlight

reflected in dreams

busted on the pavement

like so many vodka bottles,

the razor wire

coiled along the chain

link fence calling

my name

like long ago

before you came

into my life

wonderful

I hope

by some

unlikely

coincidence

a car would pass

playing

Paulo Nutini

letting go,

that primal yearning

unwinding so real

and rooted

that I’d

find my way

home to you

the only place

I’ve ever fully

belonged.

Art & Music History, Miss Jones, and the Rich Girls: Chasing a Memory and the Writing Process

When writing, if you don't catch a mind train when it passes, it's probably gone.  In this case, I hope not. Commuting across this big, open western valley today, I had a blog post come to me.  I was thinking about an art course I'm developing for the boys' home where I teach and some frustrations that came with it.  But, as I was reflecting, both the big valley and my daily troubles slipped away as I slid back in time.  I assume the road remained ahead of me because I made it home alive, but through my mind's eye, I was back in Miss Jones' Art and Music Appreciation class in 10th grade.

I remember the details of my flashback, but the problem is they are no longer live.  Writing that works is always and forever in the present even when written in the past tense.  That's because for a moment the writer disappeared and became the transparent eyeball Emerson talks about.  I love that state--when the images just flood out in front of you, and you just run behind and write them down as quickly as you can before they slip away.  I guess that's why a writer should always have a notebook or electronic device at hand. I could have pulled off the highway and wrote.

I didn't, so this is a pathetic attempt to resuscitate a moment that died sometime after I pulled in the driveway and our new puppy Oreo attacked me, and when I sat down in my recliner to write after driving back into town with Marci and Everest for fast food, running a burger to Rio at work, and coming back home and watering the garden.

That's what kills writing every time.  Life.  Not past life--that is the source, the well-spring--but current life. It's a damned if you do, damned if you don't scenario.  Life is the the spring that feeds writing, so to write well, you've got to be somewhat present in your daily activities or there will be no images to seep into the aquifer to tap into for future writing.  Yet, the live moment that fuels the piece you're working on now is seldom the present.  You have to let yourself slip away to a different time and place, which means writers are seldom in the moment.  This is frustrating for loved ones because they find themselves talking to someone who isn't really there, but it's also frustrating for the writer because his current life keeps infringing on the source of his inspiration.

And though you can develop best writing practices that increase your odds for success, it's hard to build a super highway out of clouds.  In the creative process, there is no strait and narrow path.  It's more like throwing pieces of plywood out into a foggy bog and hoping you'll find the next footing before the plywood you're standing on now sinks beneath your weight.

What seeped up during my drive home across this big, open valley was a foot in a red sandal rocking nonchalantly back and fourth.  I didn't know her.  I didn't love her.  I don't think I thought too much about her outside of class.  I may have known her name then, but I certainly don't now.  But she was one of the rich girls, and she was wonderful.  The class was full of them.  I had taken art and music history because my brother was an artist and I wanted to be an architect. I didn't know when I signed up for the class that I'd also be crossing over to the other side of the tracks.  But there she is, foot rocking, sitting so sure and casual, head tilted slightly up, looking at an image of Monet's water lilies projected on the screen at the front of the room, slightly kinky brown hair tucked behind her ear where a dainty gold earring dangles, while Miss Jones goes into detail about the painting and the girls say things like, "Oh, I just love that one; we saw that last summer when we were in Paris."

Damn.  People live like that, talk like that?  No one even had to raise their hands.  It felt like we should each have a cappuccino.  I was out of my element; I certainly didn't have it in me to change that reality; but still, there wasn't any place I'd rather be.  I'd sit in this class with these girls who talked like women any day and listen them go on about Michelangelo.  Had I known who Eliot was at the time, I'd have thought Prufrock had a great life and should just get over it.  With women like these, I'd gladly spend my days measuring my life out in teaspoons.  It was a heck of a lot better than standing behind a grill in a stupid uniform flipping burgers to help pay the rent.

Miss Jones was an amazing teacher.  She took us to museums, galleries, even the opera--a long, miserable night that nearly killed me--and earlier today the swaying foot and red sandal led to such an essay honoring a woman who definitely deserves to be remembered.

But, time has passed, it's a different moment, and the star of this essay is not Miss Jones, not even those wonderful rich girls who talked like women, not even Art & Music History, but instead the writing process and the act of chasing a memory.

When writing, if you don't catch a mind train when it passes, it's probably gone.  But if you wait around for a minute, another one might come along.