A Subversive Gospel

I believe that most of us, regularly, feel left out - misfits, we don't belong. I didn't learn the secret handshake or get the decoder ring that would make sense of this life. Others seem to be so confident, sure of themselves, "insiders" who know the ropes, old hands in a club from which we are excluded.

One of the ways we respond to this is to form our own club, "us four and no more," or join one that will have us. Here is one place where we are "in" and others are "out." The clubs can be formal or informal, in gatherings that are variously political, social, economic, cultural or religious. But the one thing they have in common is the principle of exclusion. Identity, or self worth, is achieved by excluding all but the chosen. The terrible price we pay for keeping all those others out, so we can savor the sweetness of being insiders, is a reduction of reality, a shrinkage of life.

Nowhere is the price more terrible than when it is paid in the cause of religion. But religion has a long history of doing just that, of reducing the immense mysteries of God to the respectability of club rules, of shrinking the vast human community to a "membership." But with God there are no outsiders.

Luke is a vigorous champion of the outsider. An outsider himself, the only Gentile in an all-Jewish cast of New Testament writers, he shows how Jesus includes those who were outsiders to the religious establishment of the day: women, common laborers (shepherds), the racially different (Samaritans), the poor, the infirm (lepers). He will not tolerate religion as a club. As Luke tells the story, all of us who have found ourselves on the outside looking in (haven't we all?) now find the doors wide open, found and welcomed by God in Jesus.

Being a Human Being

Human being is more a verb than a noun. Each of us is unfinished, incomplete, a work in progress. Perhaps it would be beneficial to add the word "Yet" to our assessment of ourselves and of others. She has not learned compassion . . . yet. He knows nothing of courage . . . yet. It changes everything. If life is a process, all our judgements are provisional. We can't judge something until it's over. No one has won or lost until the race is over.

In our instinctive attachments, our fear of change, and our desire for certainty and permanence, we may undercut the impermanence which is our greatest strength, our fundamental identity, recognized or not. The nature of life is change. All hope is based on that process.

A dandelion first appears as a clump of green leaves. After a time a bright yellow flower will top a stalk rising from the center. The white puff-ball that children (of all ages) delight in blowing to the breeze is another part of the process of being a dandelion. And what of the root that continues to grow beneath the surface? It is all a part of a process, a cycle as old as time. Nothing is forever, but change.

Namaste - Stories of Cancer Survivors #3

We are, in some ways, defined as much by our potential as by the way that potential is expressed. There is a great difference between an acorn and a piece of wood exquisitely carved to look like an acorn, and the difference may not be readily apparent to the eye. But the difference is there even if the acorn has never had the opportunity to plant itself and become an oak.

Remembering its potential changes the way we think of an acorn, how we value it. The Hindu's use the greeting, "Namaste," rather than our non-committal, "Hello." A rough translation is, "Whatever your outer appearance, I see you and greet the soul in you." There is wisdom in such a way of relating to others. That wisdom may be in remembering that our perception of others is often reflected back to them in our presence and may affect them in ways we do not understand.

I am a cancer patient, and also a cancer survivor. Fourteen months now from the colon cancer. It was very simple to beat and all I need do is get follow-up exams. In the eight months since they diagnosed esophageal cancer I have experienced a genuine miracle. I'll share it someday. But that is now a non-issue. I am still in treatment for the little thing going on in my small intestines. But the docs say that I can expect to be around a long while.

In the past year I have been blessed with many new acquaintances and some genuine friendships have developed as a result of my disease. People I had grown close to have succumbed to their cancers. I have had to learn with statistical information being tossed at me as if it were gospel. Initially I was given a 16% five year survival. With a better treatment it became a five-year life expectancy of 82%, nine-year (since inception of the particular treatment used) expectancy of 78%. These are phenomenal odds! I wish lottery scratchers paid so well.

Through the process of treatment I have come to value life in a way I would not thought possible a few years ago. And I have come to value people in a new way. I long ago lost that exquisitely carved acorn that sat on my desk. I lost the desk and the job too. But today, today I stop and plant acorns when I find them. Namaste.

Unconditional Happiness; Stories of Cancer Survivors #2

Alice's cancer was a particularly aggressive type. Surgery, chemotherapy, radiation - repeated treatments over a number of years - have been required. She chronicled her troubles in a journal, recording minute details of her aches and pains. She believed she needed to be symptom-free in order to enjoy life. Accordingly, she became reclusive, venturing out on only the rarest of occasions.

On one of those infrequent sojourns, Alice found herself too exhausted to get back home without a rest stop. She chose to seek refuge from the Sacramento summer's blistering heat in a movie theater. And she thoroughly enjoyed the movie. It surprised her to realize there was no reason she could not enjoy the show if she weren't pain free. She could still be happy in the moment.

Alice no longer journals her misery. There isn't enough time in a day to waste any of it.

This May Be Too Politically Charged For Some

- Michelle Malkin
October 18, 2010


While the White House may not believe in American exceptionalism, I do. And I'm thinking there's a whole bunch of people in Chile that would agree.
Regarding the mine rescue, did you know:

The guy that designed the rescue module was a NASA Engineer?
The Drill was made by Schramm Inc. from Pennsylvania.
The Drill Bits were made by Center Rock, Inc. located in Berlin, Pennsylvania.
The lead driller Jeff Hart and his team are from Denver, Colorado. They are on loan from the US Military in Afghanistan where they are drilling water wells for our Forward Operating Bases.

He spent the next 33 days on his feet, operating the drill that finally provided a way out Saturday for 33 trapped miners. "You have to feel through your feet what the drill is doing; it's a vibration you get so that you know what's happening," explained Hart.

Hart was called in from Afghanistan, "simply because he's the best" at drilling larger holes with the T130's wide-diameter drill bits, Stefanic said.

Standing before the levers, pressure meters and gauges on the T130's control panel, Hart and the rest of the team faced many challenges in drilling the shaft. At one point, the drill struck a metal support beam in the poorly mapped mine, shattering its hammers. Fresh equipment had to be flown in from the United States and progress was delayed for days as powerful magnets were lowered to pull out the pieces.

The mine's veins of gold and copper ran through quartzite with a high level of abrasive silica, rock so tough that it took all their expertise to keep the drill's hammers from curving off in unwanted directions. "It was horrible," said Center Rock President Brandon Fisher, exhausted after hardly sleeping during the effort.

Fisher, Stefanic and Hart called it the most difficult hole they had ever drilled, because of the lives at stake.

"If you're drilling for oil and you lose the hole, it's different. This time there's people down below," Stefanic said.
"We ruined some bits, worked through the problems as a team, and broke through," Hart said. "I'm very happy now."
Miners' relatives crowded around Hart on Saturday, hugging and posing for pictures with him as he walked down from the rescue operation into the tent camp where families had anxiously followed his work.

"He's become the hero of the day," said Dayana Olivares, whose friend Carlos Bugueno is one of the miners stuck below.

In a different day and age, Jeff Hart would be the most famous American in our country right now. He would be honored at the White House. Schoolchildren would learn of his skill and heroism. But because Jeff Hart works in an industry currently being demonized by (insert name for the clowns currently running our country) more people in Chile will celebrate this symbol of American greatness than in America itself.

- Michelle Malkin

Attachment vs. Comittment

At the heart of attachment lies our personality, what the Buddhists refer to as the desire nature. My friend Robert, a recent Buddhist Monk, works diligently to help me understand some insights about myself and to free me from harmful attachments. But we do not see eye-to-eye on some key points. Our primary difference is in the area of commitment.

I believe that commitment comes from the soul. In life, and human relationships, attachment closes down options; commitment opens them up. We have become a society of attachments and most people can't tell the difference. Quick self-check: if attachment leads to entrapment - what relationship do I have with my cell phone, computer, truck... etc? I am (bet you are too) attached to things. The maintenance of these things takes an ever-increasing amount of my time. Commitment leads to greater degrees of freedom. How is that, you ask?

Both involve in the moment an experience of holding something against the flow or standing against temptation. Attachment is that automatic reflex to hang on, which may not always reflect our deepest good. Commitment is a conscious choice to align ourselves with our most genuine values and our sense of purpose. In so doing I have freedom from what does not matter. Therein lies my freedom to be myself. Got commitment?

Stories From Cancer Survivors #1

"Before I got sick I was very certain of everything. I knew what I wanted and when I wanted it. Most of the time I knew what I had to do to get it, too. I walked around with my hand outstretched saying, 'I want an apple.' Many times life would give me a pomegranate instead. I was always so disappointed that I wouldn't look at it to see what it was. I don't think I was capable of seeing what it was. I had the world divided into two categories; 'Apple' and 'not-Apple.' If it wasn't an apple it was only a not-apple. I don't see things like that anymore. I like pomegranates."