Sunday night thoughts in a jumble

 

 

University Christian Church
Fort Worth

 My thoughts are all mixed up tonight with politics and religion. While I, perhaps too often, let this blog veer into politics because I can’t keep quiet, tonight I feel compelled to talk about the intersection of politics and faith. Because deep down, I know as sure as anything that my politics are dictated by my faith.

I am still chewing on the quote in Heather Cox Richardson’s column a day or two ago to the effect that William Barr, former Attorney General, believes that the constitution does not separate church and state. Somehow, he works the First Amendment, which states that Congress shall make no law regarding religion, into a statement that the Founding Fathers believed that man, being inherently evil, needs a strong Christian government. For one thing, that’s a terribly arrogant argument—does he believe that he is above evil and knows better what us poor nasty folk need? For another, how does he mis-read the Constitution to that extent?

Separation of church and state is generally traced back to a letter by Thomas Jefferson which essentially put into words the concept of the First Amendment (remember, I’m no constitutional scholar, so I’m on shaky ground here). But Article Six of the Constitution effectively rules out the establishment of any state religion. I wish I could just dismiss Barr as a wild hare, except he speaks for the “originalists,” people like Amy Comey Barrett, maybe Brett Kavanaugh and Clarence Thomas (that’s a whole different story for another time), and the whole of the Federalist Society. He’s not just a lone voice. Even Senator Ben Sasse, obliquely chastising Ted Cruz for seeking a Fox news spot with his rudeness to Judge Kentanji Brown Jackson, said he admired the judge but could not vote for her judicial philosophy.

Then this morning a state legislature candidate in Tarrant Country made oblique reference to the death penalty for abortion. That logic is so screwed I won’t even attempt to wrap my mind around it. But just after I read that I listened to Russ Peterman’s sermon at University Christian Church, where he talked about prescriptive or legalistic religions—religions with strict rules. The question: is religion made for rules or for mankind? Evoking those Christian churches where congregants emerge every Sunday filled with guilt for their sins, Russ questioned whether religion is about guilt or grace. You know the answer he led us to.

I want so badly to remind those who would restrict our lives with laws—against abortion, against gender affirming care, against widespread voting, against interracial marriage (yes, that has been mentioned), against certain books, that if they follow Jesus’ example, it’s all about love, not about hate nor rules. Read 1 Corinthians 13: 13 or better yet read all of 1 Corinthians. What these people are talking about is in no way a Christian state. And even if it were, that overlooks our Constitution. We are not a Christian nation; we are a nation of diverse people and faiths that welcomes all. Christianity in its many forms is the most followed religion, but it has no corner on the market.

What scares me about all this is that it all ties together—William Barr, the Federalist Society, Amy Comey Barrett, Greg Abbott’s mean and inhumane laws, Proud Boys, trump (though I doubt he understands the philosophy and just considers it from an opportunistic point of view), Ginni and Clarence Thomas (she apparently is a passionate believer). I don't mean to be a conspiracy theorist and yet I can see how this all comes together in a vast network conspiring to overthrow democracy as the Founding Fathers intended it and as, until recent years, we knew it. The emails exchanged by Ginni Thomas and Mark Meadows confirm this.

And it sort of comes down to your view of mankind—evil or beloved of the god of your choice. My faith dictates that I am on the side of those who believe, “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. And of these, the greatest is love.”

I’ll quit preaching now and promise tomorrow a light-hearted post about busy days and good food at the cottage. It’s hard to be lighthearted these days, but there is always a positive side to life.

The sweet cookie monster and a sour thought

The cookie monster has hit our house—not so much the one that devours cookies, but the one that bakes them. For three weeks now, I have been consumed each weekend with making cookies, primarily for Jacob’s benefit. He gets them in his school lunch every day, but I also admit that I have them after my lunch and dinner. I remind myself of my late mother-in-law, who used to say, “Judy, dear, just a little sweet with my coffee.” I don’t have the coffee, but I sure like topping  meal off with something sweet. I’ve noticed that I almost never hit my chocolate stash if I have cookies on hand.

I started, of course, with chocolate chip cookies—to me, that’s the quintessential cookie. But when those disappeared, I made oatmeal raisin, because Jacob admitted to a real liking of them. Those are almost gone now, so today I made the dough for molasses cookies. That led to an interesting exchange. Me: “Do you like molasses cookies?” Jacob: “What’s in them?” Me: “Molasses.” Jacob: “What’s molasses?” How do you explain molasses to a thirteen-year-old? I’m sure if I let him sniff it, he’d say, “No, thanks. I’m not eating that.” But the cookie batter smells and tastes so good. Yes, I confess I licked the beaters and the spatula.

So now I have to bake them, which is tricky in a toaster oven. It heats too hot and fast, and I have to adjust. Made stuffed eggplant this weekend, and the top got all crusty and dry—too hot too fast.

While it’s fun to bake cookies for a teen, I think often these days that raising a teenager—or loving grandchildren—is fraught with perils that I never thought of when my kids were teens. I know I’m inclined to be a worrier, but danger seems to lurk everywhere. It’s not unheard of for Jacob’s school to be on lockdown, and while I’m glad authorities are so cautious, I can’t help but be alarmed each time. Surely a shooting won’t happen here—but that’s what the people of Santa Clarita thought.

On Facebook I see too many notices pleading for help finding missing teens. I know a lot are runaways, and I ache for the unhappiness that must cause them to make such a dangerous decision. But we also hear too much these days about sex trafficking, and I wonder how many of those kids have been outright kidnapped and sold. A horrifying thought. If Jacob is a bit late or plays basketball on the schoolyard at dusk, I can conjure up horrible thoughts. My other grandchildren are in a way fortunate that I don’t live close enough to worry about their every move.

But as I admitted, I am a worrier. I worry a lot about my dog Sophie and almost never let her out in the yard unless I’m at my desk where I can watch her. My fear? That dogfight people will come snatch her. When I see notices on the Neighborhood News or some such of dogs needing a new home, I almost always write and recommend that people register the dog with a recognized rescue service which vets prospective owners carefully. I’ve heard that dogfight guys will send their cute girlfriend to ooh and aah over what a good pet a dog will make, only to flip it as a bait dog. (As I write this, Sophie is sitting on the deck, across the yard, watching me.)

Probably I am a person with exaggerated fears. Sometimes I blame it on my childhood on the South Side of Chicago, where I was raised to be cautious—well, yes, scared. Other times I attribute my fears to the over-active imagination of a writer. Now if I could only translate those fears into best-selling mysteries!

On the other hand, there’s that old bromide: better safe than sorry. Be cautious folks—there’s a world of meanness out there. Having said that, I have to admit I cling to my belief that there is so much more good in the world than evil, and in people. It’s just those aberrations we have to watch out for.