Save Me from Callous Remarks

Sitting at a gate waiting for my connecting plane last week in Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport I couldn’t help but hearing a disturbing conversation between a couple of other passengers. A white woman in her 60s loudly moaned to a white man in his 60s about the futility of Obamacare and how much she hates the president.

It became apparent, in listening to her babble on, that her real target for wrath is anyone who doesn’t work as hard as she does. The irate female, a Tennessee nurse, told of how she had assisted in a surgery of a 15-year-old boy who had been shot by a police officer after a run-in with the law. She matter-of-factly mentioned that, because the intubation tube had been erroneously inserted into the boy’s lung instead of stomach, it left him brain dead.

That medical mistake didn’t upset this woman. No, she lamented that the boy’s parents had wrangled from the hospital and insurers not only a settlement for lifetime care but the loss of $10 million in potential lifetime earnings.

“You know that obese kid was just going to keep getting into trouble,” she declared. “He would have been dead by 18 anyway.”

I wanted to go engage the woman in conversation, but I figured I wouldn’t change her opinions on the insurance industry, non-whites or chubby kids. I just hope before I go off on some group of people I stop to check that my attitude isn’t so callous. No matter how worthless a life may seem to me, everyone has value in God’s eyes. There can’t be a dollar value placed on the loss of that life.

Sign of the Times

In the span of a week, two men have approached me begging for gas money. That people are desperate for a few bucks shows that the recession is real and we’re not out of it.

Of course beggars have been around before the economy went sour. But the occasional fellow at a street corner or interstate off ramp is passive. The guys who approached me, one as I pumped gas and the other as I went into a drug store, both had an aggressive urgency in their pleas.

The cynic in me could have denied them any help. The skeptic in me could have doubted the excuses both gave me — that their wives had the debit card — as a scam. Perhaps their wives really did have the card because they were in such financial straits.

In any regard, I gave each guy a few bucks. The fact that they expressed gratitude rather than greed convinced me I had done the right thing. And it made me appreciate the fact that the Lord has provided me with a good job with a good salary. I shouldn’t begrudge giving a few dollars to someone in need.

Easter Renewal

Center City Church moved into its “new” facilities on Easter. New as in remodeled. Parts of the building are 136 years old, and most of the rest is 109 years old.

Many Center City attendees have had a hand in whipping the building into shape in the past month. Under the capable leadership of volunteer coordinator Jeremy Coursen (pictured with his family), crews nightly painted, cleaned and rebuilt. The building has a new children’s area, nursery and pastor’s office. The sanctuary has a fresh look on the walls and floor to accompany the stained-glass windows that have been around a long time.

Or course as Pastor Richard Yasinski has been preaching, the church isn’t a building; it’s the people. And while having our own place to worship after a six-month nomadic existence at Cook’s Kettle, a restaurant operated by Victory Mission — which generously allowed us to assemble after we lost the lease at our last location — is satisfying, it’s not a place for comfort.

Our new location is in a part of the city where few pastors, other than Rich, are excited to locate. Only a block away from a street where the homeless hang out, Rich is eager for our church to offer Christ-like compassion in the new neighborhood.

A Strange Mixture of Religions

A feeling of a false sense of spiritual superiority pervades much of Israel, especially Jerusalem. The sentiments aren’t restricted to Orthodox Jews. Many Muslims, Catholics and Protestants who dwell there seem to think God has especially ordained their presence there.

Secular Jews who have no real interest in the faith beyond following rules and traditions such as the Sabbath shutdown of the country are content to call themselves the Chosen People in the Holy Land.

Christian groups that have gained control of once holy sites sometimes turn them into commercialized spots. Very little is intact from Jesus’ day, and if the locales are genuine they likely were 10 to 15 feet below the current street level. Is this really the location of the Upper Room? Who knows? Some of the supposed holy areas seem downright cheesy. The Via Dolorosa is now a winding path of Muslim shops selling shoes, jewelry, scarves, wooden figurines and “Free Palestine” shirts.

At various sites around the country, caretakers of Christian churches that abut aren’t on speaking terms. The ornate shrines that Christians have built to commemorate the founder of Christianity seem to contradict the values for which he stood.

The most egregious example is the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem. Various Christian traditions — Ethiopian Orthodox, Copts, Armenians, Greek Orthodox Russian Orthodox and Catholics — all claim a part of the structure. Some have property rights, others only ritual rights.

They try to outdo each other, with pomp-filled ceremonies that are an assault on the senses: a cacophony of chanting, singing, clanging church bells and pounding of wooden stakes on the floor. Pilgrims bend on the floor to kiss icons, lay handkerchiefs on a rock, light candles and toss incense. It all seemed like a spiritual Disneyland, offering entertainment to the masses that pass.

Because of the bickering between these streams of Christianity, a Muslim family has held the keys to the church for generations. No wonder Christianity isn’t very attractive to outsiders.

Meanwhile, fundamentalist and charismatic American pastors bring their flocks over by the planeload, believing they have the inside track to deciphering the end times. Because they apply scriptural prophecy to 21st century events, they think they are the solution to bringing about Jesus’ Second Coming. They teach that Christians need to be kind to any Israeli, no matter if that person is oppressing Arab Christians or Messianic Jews.

Several people have told me visiting Israel changed their lives. I didn’t have that transformational experience. It’s nice to know where biblical sites are located, or were 2,000 years ago. Yet our spiritual state shouldn’t depend on a geographic location, or how we view that real estate. It should involve how we treat others in light of Jesus’ revelatory words.

I ran into several Americans who naively thought that secular Jews only needed a simple gospel presentation in order to suddenly see the light and convert to Christianity.

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem.

Strolling Through Old Jerusalem

Tourism is booming in Israel, particularly in Jerusalem. Yet the threat of annihilation from Iran is real. A flare-up of hostilities would quickly halt the flow of visitors.

Israel is a small country where two-thirds of the terrain is desert. It’s a nation where girls and boys must join the military immediately after high school. A land where soldiers armed with machine guns routinely congregate at the confluence of Jewish and Muslim neighborhoods.

As I entered the Jewish Quarter in Old Jerusalem and descended to the temple area, an orthodox rabbi approached me as though I was a long-lost comrade. He spotted my Hebrew-inscribed St. Louis Cardinals T-shirt, which I had bought nearby to cope with the 90-degree heat on an unseasonably hot March day.
“I love Missouri!” my new friend in black assured me. “Let me pray for you.”

He proceeded to ask my name, my wife’s name, the name of my children and the name of my parents, muttering a short heaven-sent prayer for each in between.
What a sweet guy, I thought. Then came the pitch.

“We’re building the temple here,” he told me. “I need a donation of $160.” I thought this kind of fund raising was confined to televangelists. I gave him a few bucks, which left the impression that I was a chintzy American tourist. Maybe he did better with somebody from Oklahoma or Alabama.

I had an interesting buying experience in the Muslim Quarter. Hospitable shopkeepers greet you as though they have all the time in the world. I sat down for a cup of tea before haggling over the price of a pair of fur-lined goat-skinned gloves. Negotiating is an expected part of the process. The prospective buyer starts bidding seriously low while the store owner begins artificially high. In this case, that meant $5 and $67. We met at $18, without me feeling as though I had been ripped off and he realized at least some profit.

In a stall across the walkway I found an opal piece of jewelry for my wife for $30, down from the $140 starting price. When I walked away without paying another $15 for a chain, the seller called me “cheap.” That didn’t encourage me to reconsider.

The peddling doesn’t cease at “holy” sites. Outside the Garden of Gethsemane in the Muslim Quarter, hawkers incessantly shill postcards, palm fronds, hats, bookmarks, and even donkey and camel rides.

Technology Vacation

I took a technology vacation on my trip to Israel last week. No computer, no cell phone.

The schedule looked packed, and I didn’t want to miss anything either because I was too busy catching up with daily contacts back in the States.

Actually, I traded in my laptop for a larger desktop computer last year. At this stage in my life (and my eyesight), visibility is more important than portability. I don’t take that many trips anymore, and whatever writing or correspondence I need to do usually can wait.

I’ve never felt the need to have an iPod in my pocket. I’m not an executive who needs to constantly be in touch with what’s going on. I think a lot overdo it. I see co-workers at weekly chapel services seemingly unable to not answer an e-mail when they’re supposed to be singing a worship song or praying.

So, in Israel, I took a break from all the work deadlines, checking the news and staying in touch with friends. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I didn’t want to miss it because I was too busy with the routine of keeping everyone else informed of my status in life.

Some other journalists on the trip posted reports and photos on Facebook and Twitter every day. I decided to wait until I returned. I don’t imagine anyone will be too disappointed that I didn’t give an hour-by-hour report at the time.

Pornography’s Poison

Feminism has enabled American females to accomplish a great deal in my lifetime. Women now earn higher salaries than before. Husbands view their wives more as partners rather than servants. And the law no longer allows a man to batter a woman he deems his property.

But women’s liberation also has come at a cost, the highest price being paid in matters of sexuality. Left-wingers argue that even pornography has allowed women to be emancipated because they can earn a living by having men ogle their bodies. What a lie!

Recently in doing some research for an article, I read Pamela Paul’s Pornified: How Pornography Is Transforming Our Lives, Our Relationships and Our Families. The book is four years old and the situation has grown much worse, but it points out how devalued and objectified women are now because of the sex industry.

The media exploits women everywhere: in fashion magazines, television programs, billboards, social networking sites, motion pictures, music videos. But the chief factor in accelerating the lusts of males has been the pornography industry.

Subsequently, how men and women relate — or fail to relate — has fundamentally changed. Girls and women are involved in a never-ending effort to try to please males, who by repeated exposure to porn have unrealistic expectations of what females should be and do. So women dress provocatively, buy breast implants, consent to participate in “sex tapes” and have abortions, all to no avail. Porn is the reason behind unbridled lust and sex trafficking exploding around the world.

Paul’s book points out how pornography has convinced males that anal sex and more bizarre behavior should be expected from a female, even on a first date. Pornified shows how many males can no longer function in a normal sexual state because they’ve been so warped by images of group sex and other sinful activities. And I’ve aware of women who have been treated so rough by porn addicts that they can no longer bear children.

“Many men don’t even realize that what they’re asking for is degrading or unpleasant to women,” Paul writes. “But the costs to our relationships, our families and our culture are great, and will continue to mount.”

The book left me sad at how debased we have become, and how harmful and corrosive pornography is. I apologize to women for buying into this dysfunctional view of sexuality and my role in exploiting you.