To Whom It May Concern,
Now that our truly connected Conference "leaders" ("connected," here not so much as in The United Methodist connection, but more in the manner of, say, The Sopranos - fugitabowdit) have taken care of each other in the latest round of "discerned decisions," if it's o.k. with you, may we please now do some real ministry?
I'm just asking.
Because this game we play to maneuver and conspire to get what we want and when we want it - has truly become an art form - which as you know with all art, what one person may think is a thing of beauty, someone else knows is a bunch of crap.
Oh yes I did just say that.
And if you want to see some real leadership, I know a clergy woman who recently itinerated to a congregation in Marshall County, Kentucky, whose commitment to the connection and passion for her call is a continuing object lesson in integrity that judges all this foolishness. More than a few of us need to sit at her feet and take notes.
God bless us - please.
Johnny
an Elder in the Memphis Conference of The United Methodist Church
Showing posts with label Politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Politics. Show all posts
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Friday, May 25, 2007
KO - Special Comment on Iraq Funding Resolution
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Thoughts on a Saturday
Since I'm not preaching tomorrow, my weekly rhythm is off a bit. Usually at this time of day I'm "running" the script in my head. Seeing the moves (David Buttrick would be proud of me - no, probably not), and trying to bring the message alive in me.
Rest assured, if it ain't alive in me, it sure as the world won't be for you.
But today, my mind wanders on to other areas -
World Series -
Cardinals won, blah, blah, blah - there's a commercial running during the Series in which Tommy Lasorda is counselling a distraught fan who is quite literally up a tree and unwilling to come down. As he inquires to the woman below what the fella's problem is, she tells him that he's been up the tree since his team was eliminated from playoff contention. The point was to have him come down and "let's all go watch the World Series on TV." Of course, the guy up a tree is wearing a Cubs jersey - which means that he's been up that tree since, I don't know, maybe the first of June?
Cubs, Memphis Tigers, Democrats - I'm wondering if I'm being honest with myself about whether or not I exhibit masochistic tendencies.
-----
Tennessee's Marriage Amendment -
On the signs for those who are proponents of this Constitutional Amendment, is the phrase, "Protect Marriage." The implication, of course, is that if gay and lesbian people are in committed, covenantal, legal relationships, that straight people who are married might decide to switch teams? Is that it? The sum total of intelligence in this fear-mongered, homophobic effort to employ noble, to say nothing of sacred, language as a tool to discriminate is disgraceful. It's also a clever diversion from other issues. I'll address the issue of committed relationships in a future post.
Politics -
I've exercised my right to vote early. It's done. Don't pat me on the back, mind you, I'm always motivated to steer clear from my actual polling place where I threw my fit a few years ago. I look at it this way - my candidates' winning or losing is not the imperative here, retaining my right to complain is, because I've exercised my duty as a citizen.
Will you?
Go vote, please.
Go vote for the candidate and party of your choice - but go vote.
-
I received a flyer in the mail today from the Republican Party that said that there is some one from the Middle East trying to call someone in Memphis to set up a terrorist attack, and, thank God for the Republicans, they're going to stop it. But, if you vote for the Democrats (too late, already did), you can all but guarantee that attacks will happen.
To that I'll say this - whatever remains of this republic when my grandchildren are grown may well be measured by those who refuse to allow terror, fear, and the politicization both to divide a nation. How dare anyone suggest that one group of Americans will protect you and the other group doesn't give a damn. This is, I fear, the Civil War of the 21st Century.
Prophetic Imperative -
Some sisters and brothers who come to my congregation and then leave it, and others I have served in the past question me sometimes about my overt declaration of issues related to Church and Society, and government in particular.
"Isn't the role of the preacher to be neutral?" Nope.
And any clergy who tries to play it down the middle is disavowing that to which they have made promises.
The issue that drives any clergy person, as one who leads a congregation, is to hold the line on what is pastoral and what is prophetic. Too few of us want to go the way of the prophet. Life is a whole lot easier if we can create an atmosphere were we all get along.
The prophet isn't Democrat or Republican.
The prophet looks at absolute power's absolute corruption, and is obliged by the God who called them to say, in the words of the prophet Nathan to King David - "You are the Man."
There is no joy or satisfaction in that. It is as requisite to my call as is the making of disciples for Jesus Christ.
It must be done.
The sad part, of course is that history's track record of dealing with those who confront power isn't favorable for the prophet.
Either you stand firm in the knowledge that you are faithful, or you can always join the Cubs fan up in that tree and sulk.
There are days when that is the tempting choice.
Rest assured, if it ain't alive in me, it sure as the world won't be for you.
But today, my mind wanders on to other areas -
World Series -
Cardinals won, blah, blah, blah - there's a commercial running during the Series in which Tommy Lasorda is counselling a distraught fan who is quite literally up a tree and unwilling to come down. As he inquires to the woman below what the fella's problem is, she tells him that he's been up the tree since his team was eliminated from playoff contention. The point was to have him come down and "let's all go watch the World Series on TV." Of course, the guy up a tree is wearing a Cubs jersey - which means that he's been up that tree since, I don't know, maybe the first of June?
Cubs, Memphis Tigers, Democrats - I'm wondering if I'm being honest with myself about whether or not I exhibit masochistic tendencies.
-----
Tennessee's Marriage Amendment -
On the signs for those who are proponents of this Constitutional Amendment, is the phrase, "Protect Marriage." The implication, of course, is that if gay and lesbian people are in committed, covenantal, legal relationships, that straight people who are married might decide to switch teams? Is that it? The sum total of intelligence in this fear-mongered, homophobic effort to employ noble, to say nothing of sacred, language as a tool to discriminate is disgraceful. It's also a clever diversion from other issues. I'll address the issue of committed relationships in a future post.
Politics -
I've exercised my right to vote early. It's done. Don't pat me on the back, mind you, I'm always motivated to steer clear from my actual polling place where I threw my fit a few years ago. I look at it this way - my candidates' winning or losing is not the imperative here, retaining my right to complain is, because I've exercised my duty as a citizen.
Will you?
Go vote, please.
Go vote for the candidate and party of your choice - but go vote.
-
I received a flyer in the mail today from the Republican Party that said that there is some one from the Middle East trying to call someone in Memphis to set up a terrorist attack, and, thank God for the Republicans, they're going to stop it. But, if you vote for the Democrats (too late, already did), you can all but guarantee that attacks will happen.
To that I'll say this - whatever remains of this republic when my grandchildren are grown may well be measured by those who refuse to allow terror, fear, and the politicization both to divide a nation. How dare anyone suggest that one group of Americans will protect you and the other group doesn't give a damn. This is, I fear, the Civil War of the 21st Century.
Prophetic Imperative -
Some sisters and brothers who come to my congregation and then leave it, and others I have served in the past question me sometimes about my overt declaration of issues related to Church and Society, and government in particular.
"Isn't the role of the preacher to be neutral?" Nope.
And any clergy who tries to play it down the middle is disavowing that to which they have made promises.
The issue that drives any clergy person, as one who leads a congregation, is to hold the line on what is pastoral and what is prophetic. Too few of us want to go the way of the prophet. Life is a whole lot easier if we can create an atmosphere were we all get along.
The prophet isn't Democrat or Republican.
The prophet looks at absolute power's absolute corruption, and is obliged by the God who called them to say, in the words of the prophet Nathan to King David - "You are the Man."
There is no joy or satisfaction in that. It is as requisite to my call as is the making of disciples for Jesus Christ.
It must be done.
The sad part, of course is that history's track record of dealing with those who confront power isn't favorable for the prophet.
Either you stand firm in the knowledge that you are faithful, or you can always join the Cubs fan up in that tree and sulk.
There are days when that is the tempting choice.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Election Returns - Déjà Vu ?
So, I'm going into my local polling place to do my civic due, and I'm wondering if anyone remembers the fit I threw in the place 4 years ago. Surely not. It's the first time I've voted there since the "incident." I've been voting early every other time since, but with vacation, no such luck this time out.
As I hand my voter registration card to the nice lady at the table - I braced for what I might hear...
and I did...
"Sir, I can't find your name in our book?"
Oh, hell no - not again.
The following is my newsletter article for the first week of August, 2002.
Is this a great country, or what?
Last Thursday, I went to my local polling place to cast my vote for the candidates of my choice. The exercise in democracy is something I’ve always taken pride in. I have memories of watching the party conventions during the 60’s, and although quite young, the anger, the zeal, the conviction of citizens of the same country being diametrically opposed to, well, everything, fascinated me.
Now, my beloved wife doesn’t understand this about me. As much as she loves me, you ought to see the looks I get when I’m home on my day off and I’m watching CSPAN!
So, Thursday, taking my role as a citizen seriously, I went to vote.
Made my way through the maze of folks waving posters in my face, offering guides to help me find the right candidate when I'm in the polling booth, and even a few of the folks running for office were there to remind me how much they’d appreciate my support.
One guy's mama was there asking me to vote for his son.
Thank God for the 100 ft. line that ends such madness.
From that line on, It’s all about the citizen and his or her right to cast a ballot in peace for a candidate.
This was my first time to vote in Shelby County since moving back to the city. With voters’ registration card in hand I approached the table with the book in which my name would be listed to show that I, indeed, was registered to vote at the precinct ever so convenient to my house. The kindly poll worker to whom I gave my card greeted me.
I pronounced my name and watched his finger scan the page on which the “J’s” were found. I was puzzled as I watched his finger go up the page and down the page - up and down.
“Let me help him,” I thought. So I turned my head so I could see what he was seeing, “There’s a ‘Jeffords,’” I said. Ooops, not me, it was Kristy,
Apparently, I was not in the book.
Confused, but not troubled, I was sent to the head polling person to correct this little glitch. Only he was busy with someone else. He was tucked away in a corner, speaking on a telephone to the Election Commission Office concerning a guy who had just moved into the precinct from another precinct in the county, who wanted to vote here. The guy was leaning up against the wall - looking put out - his two kids were running all over the place and I was glad mine weren’t with me.
“Should’ve had all this fixed before he got here," I thought.
We looked at each other, gave that southern “what’s up?” head nod without speaking a word. He told his kids to be still, stay with their mother, don’t bang on the piano. Again I was glad the boys were with Kristy,
I waited 15 minutes for the head man to come back to tell this guy I was waiting behind that all was taken care of and he may enter the polling place to vote.
“About time," I thought.”
“May I help you?” He asked me.
I told him yes, and shared the problem. I handed him my voters’ registration card most certain that he’d be able to correct the problem and send me to do my civic duty. Standing beside him as he spoke the with “big office” downtown, he shared my name, spelled it, gave my address and all the other pertinent information located on my voter’s registration card.
I cannot begin to characterize the look of confusion that began to creep upon the face of this head pollster.
“Did you cancel your voter’s registration?” he asked as he listened to the voice on the other end of the Line.
“Cancel? No sir. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would I be here if I cancelled?"
It was about this time I knew something was up.
He said as he handed me the phone,
“She’d like to talk with you.” - which, I understand, is unusual for the common man to be able to actually speak to a human in the election commission office especially on Election Day.
“Hello,” I said.
“Mr. Jeffords, our records show that you cancelled your voter’s registration upon your request.”
“No m'am, not possible, didn’t happen, I don’t know where that came from.”
“All the same, sir, you are not going to be eligible to vote today.”
“But I have my voters’ registration card, how can I not be eligible, why am I here to vote if I cancelled it (I was convinced my logic would allow her to see the error of her ways and she would say, “Mr. Jeffords, you make great sense, I’m going to authorize you to vote.”).
Instead, she said, “Oh, we give out a lot of voters’ registration cards, that doesn’t mean anything. For all we know, you’re a convicted felon.”
Now let me say at this point that I had been a pretty good boy. But that last comment from “Miss Thang” down at the Election Commission Office did It. I don’t think I was yelling, really, but everyone kind of stopped what they were doing, including the guy I had been waiting in line behind, his wife and kids - they all just took in the moment as I made the pronouncement to the lady on the phone -
“I can assure you, mam, that I am not a convicted felon,”
“Doesn’t matter, you still can’t vote today. But to correct your error, please come at your convenience to the Election Commission Office at..”
“Wait a minute,” I said, this is not MY error, It’s YOUR error, and you’re telling me that to correct an error that I didn’t make, I’ve got to come to you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Click. She hung up.
No “have a nice day,” no “sorry for the inconvenience.” No “kiss my toe.” Just click.
As I stormed out of the polling place I was so mad that I wasn’t capable of embarrassment. We passed that point a long ways back. I’m not really sure what all I said. I am sure, however, It wasn’t very nice. Poor head pollster guy caught my wrath and all he was doing was trying to help me.
Again, I was really glad my kids weren’t with me.
The next day, I was working out in the garage and I noticed that there were a couple of kids playing across the street in the house that some family had moved in to while we were on vacation. We hadn’t yet gone over to introduce ourselves.
Hey, it’s Memphis, you know privacy fences, mind your own business and all that.
We’ll get around to it - one day.
“Hmm, they look familiar," I thought.
When their dad opened the door to call them into the house for dinner - that’s when I got embarrassed. Seems like I knew them already, and the part of me they knew was not the part I like folks to see, especially someone I’ll be calling “neighbor”.
And they saw it in full bloom the night before at the local precinct as I waited in line behind them. I’m just hoping that while he cast his ballot in the booth, whatever vote he cast about me and my character I can attempt to overcome. Lord knows, I need to.
Now, back to today...
"Oh, there you are, Mr. Jeffords, sorry, I was just looking in the wrong place."
"Whew!"
As I hand my voter registration card to the nice lady at the table - I braced for what I might hear...
and I did...
"Sir, I can't find your name in our book?"
Oh, hell no - not again.
The following is my newsletter article for the first week of August, 2002.
Is this a great country, or what?
Last Thursday, I went to my local polling place to cast my vote for the candidates of my choice. The exercise in democracy is something I’ve always taken pride in. I have memories of watching the party conventions during the 60’s, and although quite young, the anger, the zeal, the conviction of citizens of the same country being diametrically opposed to, well, everything, fascinated me.
Now, my beloved wife doesn’t understand this about me. As much as she loves me, you ought to see the looks I get when I’m home on my day off and I’m watching CSPAN!
So, Thursday, taking my role as a citizen seriously, I went to vote.
Made my way through the maze of folks waving posters in my face, offering guides to help me find the right candidate when I'm in the polling booth, and even a few of the folks running for office were there to remind me how much they’d appreciate my support.
One guy's mama was there asking me to vote for his son.
Thank God for the 100 ft. line that ends such madness.
From that line on, It’s all about the citizen and his or her right to cast a ballot in peace for a candidate.
This was my first time to vote in Shelby County since moving back to the city. With voters’ registration card in hand I approached the table with the book in which my name would be listed to show that I, indeed, was registered to vote at the precinct ever so convenient to my house. The kindly poll worker to whom I gave my card greeted me.
I pronounced my name and watched his finger scan the page on which the “J’s” were found. I was puzzled as I watched his finger go up the page and down the page - up and down.
“Let me help him,” I thought. So I turned my head so I could see what he was seeing, “There’s a ‘Jeffords,’” I said. Ooops, not me, it was Kristy,
Apparently, I was not in the book.
Confused, but not troubled, I was sent to the head polling person to correct this little glitch. Only he was busy with someone else. He was tucked away in a corner, speaking on a telephone to the Election Commission Office concerning a guy who had just moved into the precinct from another precinct in the county, who wanted to vote here. The guy was leaning up against the wall - looking put out - his two kids were running all over the place and I was glad mine weren’t with me.
“Should’ve had all this fixed before he got here," I thought.
We looked at each other, gave that southern “what’s up?” head nod without speaking a word. He told his kids to be still, stay with their mother, don’t bang on the piano. Again I was glad the boys were with Kristy,
I waited 15 minutes for the head man to come back to tell this guy I was waiting behind that all was taken care of and he may enter the polling place to vote.
“About time," I thought.”
“May I help you?” He asked me.
I told him yes, and shared the problem. I handed him my voters’ registration card most certain that he’d be able to correct the problem and send me to do my civic duty. Standing beside him as he spoke the with “big office” downtown, he shared my name, spelled it, gave my address and all the other pertinent information located on my voter’s registration card.
I cannot begin to characterize the look of confusion that began to creep upon the face of this head pollster.
“Did you cancel your voter’s registration?” he asked as he listened to the voice on the other end of the Line.
“Cancel? No sir. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would I be here if I cancelled?"
It was about this time I knew something was up.
He said as he handed me the phone,
“She’d like to talk with you.” - which, I understand, is unusual for the common man to be able to actually speak to a human in the election commission office especially on Election Day.
“Hello,” I said.
“Mr. Jeffords, our records show that you cancelled your voter’s registration upon your request.”
“No m'am, not possible, didn’t happen, I don’t know where that came from.”
“All the same, sir, you are not going to be eligible to vote today.”
“But I have my voters’ registration card, how can I not be eligible, why am I here to vote if I cancelled it (I was convinced my logic would allow her to see the error of her ways and she would say, “Mr. Jeffords, you make great sense, I’m going to authorize you to vote.”).
Instead, she said, “Oh, we give out a lot of voters’ registration cards, that doesn’t mean anything. For all we know, you’re a convicted felon.”
Now let me say at this point that I had been a pretty good boy. But that last comment from “Miss Thang” down at the Election Commission Office did It. I don’t think I was yelling, really, but everyone kind of stopped what they were doing, including the guy I had been waiting in line behind, his wife and kids - they all just took in the moment as I made the pronouncement to the lady on the phone -
“I can assure you, mam, that I am not a convicted felon,”
“Doesn’t matter, you still can’t vote today. But to correct your error, please come at your convenience to the Election Commission Office at..”
“Wait a minute,” I said, this is not MY error, It’s YOUR error, and you’re telling me that to correct an error that I didn’t make, I’ve got to come to you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Click. She hung up.
No “have a nice day,” no “sorry for the inconvenience.” No “kiss my toe.” Just click.
As I stormed out of the polling place I was so mad that I wasn’t capable of embarrassment. We passed that point a long ways back. I’m not really sure what all I said. I am sure, however, It wasn’t very nice. Poor head pollster guy caught my wrath and all he was doing was trying to help me.
Again, I was really glad my kids weren’t with me.
The next day, I was working out in the garage and I noticed that there were a couple of kids playing across the street in the house that some family had moved in to while we were on vacation. We hadn’t yet gone over to introduce ourselves.
Hey, it’s Memphis, you know privacy fences, mind your own business and all that.
We’ll get around to it - one day.
“Hmm, they look familiar," I thought.
When their dad opened the door to call them into the house for dinner - that’s when I got embarrassed. Seems like I knew them already, and the part of me they knew was not the part I like folks to see, especially someone I’ll be calling “neighbor”.
And they saw it in full bloom the night before at the local precinct as I waited in line behind them. I’m just hoping that while he cast his ballot in the booth, whatever vote he cast about me and my character I can attempt to overcome. Lord knows, I need to.
Now, back to today...
"Oh, there you are, Mr. Jeffords, sorry, I was just looking in the wrong place."
"Whew!"
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