Tag Archives: CHRISTIANITY

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

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TO BE OR NOT TO BE

The dark of night yet lingers and hides horrors from our sight,

as surely as using his poisoned pen our would-be king

claims undeserved, and hitherto unknown, power and might.

Disguised as feeble-minded and deranged in his fake rage,

surrounded by sycophants helping him turn every page,

he orders and re-orders freedom as his serpent

sibilant breath hisses and shouts across a stage,

revealing his sins and our own, as old as this nation.

Our fears and incoherent anxiety revealed with every breath,

as old as earth’s uncertain and unknowable creation.

Our American Garden of Eden has been turned into hell

for people of color and women, immigrants and refugees

who come with promise and work hard to make true

the promise that over 250 years determinedly grew,

and journalists pledged to tell us truth that is balanced and fair.

Even a live view of a firing squad of a criminal in a wheelchair

does not diminish the would-be kings charm

like a snake sung into action by Congressional inaction

which daily increases a litany of new harm

while they refuse to impeach and remove him 

and his co-horts who claim he is only joking, 

and ask us to believe he is such fun,

as he destroys the Bill of Rights, one by one;

and ignores every court order to cease and desist

his personal form of corruption and grift.

The rule of law, its lawyers and judges live in fear

as he unleashes his supporters to threaten and sneer.

Americans, it seems, find some ability to be tolerant,

though not as we hoped, to keep us solvent.

Americans accept racist and sexist firings

to make white supremacy in charge, and re-wiring.

Americans accept attacks on the Capitol and its defenders,

and pardons for criminals whose attacks never ended.

Americans can accept attacks on electoral process

and threats of vote seizures meant to intimidate

and stop voters who cannot wait to participate

in tossing the bums out with freedoms’ voting clout.

Americans can accept endless war financed by the poor

while the richer get rich making deals with enemies galore.

But, hands in our pockets, is a step too far for us.

You cannot steal our money like you steal our Jesus,

to convince us neither He, nor we, are who we once were.

Money has become our one, true god;

and whiteness, and gas prices, our only guiding star.

Vote evil out of this garden of Eden,

the serpent and all who will not act against him,

who now pretend they are on our side with false pride;

while cutting trees into crosses and debasing the wood.

The promise of America  requires you vote Blue

to keep this nation free, progressing, and claiming what is true.

Join NO KINGS rally and marches near you on October 17.

Make a plan and VOTE on or before November 3.

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AMERICAN RENAISSANCE

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The dark ages were not dark everywhere.

Light shown to the East, the South, and the West

while Europe cloaked itself in dark days;

as The United States of America does now.

Even camera crews have turned off light and sound.

And evil men and women try to rebound

by creating their own clown-faced muse

with his crypto, coins, twitter, and TV news.

These wanna-be strong-men turn away from the Light of Truth

forsake the Bill of Rights’ light once so very bright

with promise by all, for all, and to do all things right.

We watch all systems fail across airports,

roads, water plants, farm fields, schools and hospitals

and death becomes unleashed by ICE men

playing false as con-men overrule the Rule of Law.

Their appointed judges enact The Rule of Flaw

This may be America’s final straw;

judges sitting in dark court rooms

unable to see what facts there be

so precedence can be overruled

and lights kept turned off, but not for all.

January 6 criminals, rapists, pedophiles, and fraudsters are free

to roam in darkness so deep we cannot see

that none of us is allowed to remain free.

None of us are safe from deportation

to an unknown country, or to our own private hell

here in our own homes, on our own streets,

within our universities and our own communities.

The lights seem to be growing dim

as Dark Ages descend again.

Artists can paint, sculpt and write in the dark.

They see more clearly what is, and imagine what can be.

Their imagery is lightened within dreams and memory.

A new Renaissance can overcome such darkness.

It did so once. It can, again.

There should be no return to the old days, but a rebirth

of those ideals sought enacted by people of Earth,

when our constitution, its amendments and Judicial Act

were put in placed to support a Bill of Rights

to overcome dark night and shine a brilliant Light

across an entire world. Peasant freedom unfurled. 

The work of artists is to bring forth light and right;

a Renaissance of love and peace, respect for all;

and, the courage to make things right.

Art and artists’ dreams dispel, like a liars’ tell,

 shining light in the depths of these dark nights.

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CONFIRMATION SLAP

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There was one day each year our Catholic parish could expect the Bishop to visit. Every year the children in the fourth grade, age 10 or so, made their Confirmation of Faith. We studied the tenets of our faith so we would understand more fully what it would mean to be confirmed. This was critical because  the one thing that sank in was the idea that we would not only promise to live our faith, fully and with integrity; we would pledge to be willing to die for our faith, as many of the Catholic saints had done over the centuries. In fact, we chose a name for ourselves of a saint who inspired us to live our faith as fully as they. I chose Bernadette, a young girl unable to be shaken from her spiritual experiences, despite opposition even from church leaders. She was open to the unexpected, unexplainable mysteries of her faith; courageous and persistent, resilient and humble. She could face down any opposition to live her faith experience.

We had learned through study and life experience that others opposed our beliefs, and especially, our assumed authority to represent Jesus Christ’s teaching . We saw our priests, and even ourselves, as part of the line of succession from Peter the Apostle. A lot of wrongdoing and audacity occurred in between Peter’s time and mine. We were taught to acknowledge errors, correct them and move on. A daily examination of conscience and frequent confession kept us on track.

As a very short child, I led the procession into church. The Bishop asked us a few questions ascertaining that we understood what we were about to promise. I was the first to be confirmed, kneeling at the altar rail, shaking like a leaf, praying for courage. The Bishop spoke the words reminding me that my faith required a willingness to die for Christ. I responded that I would. The Bishop then struck my cheek with a blow so hard those in the back pews could hear the slap, my head snapping to the side. The Bishop looked horrified. I could feel the sting of his hand. I was reminded alright! 

After the service ended, we processed from our pews to the rear of the church, the Bishop and altar servers before us. The Bishop waited for me at the door and joined my parents and family as we stood on the church steps. His handprint was still visible on my cheek. He humbly apologized to me and to my parents. Since I was the first child he had underestimated the strength of his blow, and was mortified. I had never expected to see a mortified bishop. It made my heart open to him as human being, no longer an authority figure. Those moments of my confirmation remain with me, 67 years later, as if they happened yesterday. Over the years I had need of the lessons learned that day.

I learned that faith is not a mind-game, nor a mere consideration. It is a calling to act with integrity, love and compassion. It requires the willingness to suffer for others; to learn them, see them, hear them even when I had to “suffer through” them. I suffered through those I did not like nor respect, as well as those I respected and loved. I learned that those in authority held no power over me unless I gave it to them. I could have withheld respect and forgiveness to a bishop who hit me so hard it hurt. I chose to forgive him and accept his unintended harm. However, I never shirk from showing those in authority the harm they do. It is probably one reason I became a lawyer. I experienced justice that day. Too many in our America do not. It is those we must be willing to die for. Our faith requires it.

I listened to two Catholics, Senator Bernie Moreno from my state of Ohio and Vice-President J.D. Vance defend and protect the President Trump’s unlawful war, threats of genocide, and destructive blasphemy the past few days. They were confirmed. Do they not recall their vow to defend and protect our faith and our church as they attack our Pope? Do they not understand integrity and morality? What did they promise as they affirmed their Catholicism when confirmed? I am not truly surprised because they also seem to have forgotten their vow to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States and Ohio, and the laws of both when they sworn into office as senators and then, Vance, as Vice-President. 

These are not men of conviction willing to suffer for their faith. They are not humble. They lack integrity. They lie. They attack when they should defend… not just the Pope but human beings in Gaza, Iran, Minneapolis, and every city and hamlet in America. They attack instead of defend our people of color, LGBQT and transgender citizens, our women and children, our elderly and disabled, our working poor, our refugees and immigrants. They would suppress votes of students, women, the working poor, the elderly and disabled and brazenly support the provisions in the SAVE act suppressing our votes. All the while they pretend to protect us and our vote. They stay silent while our military is used to perform war crimes, and while our country’s leaders threaten to annihilate others in violation of the Geneva Convention and human rights.

The attack on a Catholic Pope is just part of the plan to replace loving faith and care for others preached by Jesus Christ on his Sermon on the Mount with power and control over others fed by greed and arrogance. It was easy to abuse the weakest among us. Now, they openly abuse a powerful church leader preaching Jesus Christ’s teachings. Of course, Trump posted an AI construction of himself as Jesus Christ. Of course Vance and Moreno, and other republicans think it is meaningless, a joke.  The explanation is as great a lie. It has meaning. It is meant to promote abuse and control at the expense of others. These men were not slapped hard enough when they were confirmed as Catholics. They are not willing to suffer any political nor financial loss to help others. As a Catholic, I hold them accountable and ask them to recall their vows; to their church and to the American people.

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MY FIRST AND ONLY CONFESSION

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Confession is good for the soul.

I have been told.

My first confession

at the age of seven

Took Sister Mary Claude,

whose diligence I applaud,

months to abate my fear.

First in line, I strode near

the confessional where Fr. Torre

waited to hear blood and gore

from little ones whose blame-game

only recently became a cause of shame.

With whispering words I began to confess.

“Father, forgive me.”( I felt such stress.)

“This is my first confession.”

Father stopped me right there

as I sat on the edge of the chair.

He was behind the screen,

a solemn, still figure barely seen.

“Please speak up so I can hear.”

And, so I did, and started to enumerate

all my sins, expecting him to strongly berate.

His words caused me even greater fear,

“Louise, not so loud, or all will hear.”

No longer did I worry who heard what.

He knew me, when I had been taught,

confession is anonymous.

Now, I felt infamous.

How could I face him across my Mother’s table

when he came each week that he was able

to eat her suga and Italian food;

and feel like family, with buoyant mood.

My only sin that day

was what I confessed every single Saturday,

“I disobeyed my Mother 10 times a day,

every day, of every week, of every year.

I was a disobedient child who shed no tears.

And over these many years

I have never changed my insolent creed

My father told me as I stood at his knee,

“Every man puts his pants on one leg at a time.

No one is better than you; (I liked that line)

and you are no better than anyone else.”

Equality set my soul free, made my heart pulse.

Equality became the base of all courage.

Equality kept me from being discouraged.

As a woman in a man’s world and profession.

I learned to speak up and out loud in my first confession.

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EXAMINATION OF CONSCIENCE

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How easily done depends

on the sinner and sin done that day.

No “ I lay me down to sleep”

before this Catholic child closed her eyes.

An examination of conscience, 

a deep and complete review 

of my sins committed that day, as I prayed

in true contrition for my sins; and a promise

to make restitution to all I had harmed

in my self-centered, humanly-corrupted way.

Only then, could forgiveness be petitioned

and God swayed. Sister told me so in class.

Father told me so in the dark confessional.

I await an examination of conscience by all

who voted for MAGA  entranced and enthralled

by promises of heavenly and earthly reward

for allowing hate to invade and invoke

the souls of nation recently made awoke

by African-Americans and women who showed

they were equally great to any American.

Make America Great Again only meant

make America white again.

And my church paved the way.

Her misogyny always ready to deprive

women of any control over 

the length of their skirts,

the choice to love or escape 

abuse in any man’s embrace,

manage their reproductive health,

choose or excuse another’s hate.

Abortion became the rallying cry

to bring sinners off their knees and to the polls

to vote for the liars who played priests like fools.

There is no place for judgment or blame.

Sinners all, we play the same game.

There is a need for an examination of conscience,

for restitution to a nation’s sacred tenets defamed

by such reckless, sincere but sinful moves.

Now, priests and pastors see the error of their ways

as they accompany immigrants to hearings

to protect them from MAGA misrule?

The MAGA the churches helped elect

is not a surprise. And, it remains a sin to be

examined deeply, and completely reviewed.

I await the results of such a self-examination.

I await the restitution to be completed.

I await the apology for distorting Christian theology.

I await the chance to forgive, wholeheartedly.

I know my church is only human.

If only it could remember that truth.

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CHRISTMAS LETTER

                          MERRY CHRISTMAS  

The Christmas Letter 2024

This year I am compelled to ask a question similar to that asked by the youngest child at the Jewish Passover Seder: “Why is this Christmas (night) different from all other Christmases (nights)?” It feels different, more significant, more laden with meaning. It calls for more introspection and reflection. Too many mornings I awaken with dread as if there will never be another Christmas

defined by love for all, peace in understanding, and hope for a free and joyful future. The darkness seems overwhelming. I look for a star in the sky to guide my way. I understand the need to find a course I can follow which will lead me to a simple stable where a humble family seeks shelter. I long for those around me to awaken to the need to overcome the darkness descending on my country, on my world. Crass consumerism  can only mask the need for a short time while we search for something bigger than ourselves, to build and belong to a community ruled by fairness which operates within the bounds of law, where each soul has equal value and worth. 

Autocrats, fraudsters, and wealthy oligarchs are not new. Courts which give them immunity are new. It is as if I now live among the crowd who shouted, “Give us Barabbas! ” I see that young babe in a manger in a cave or stable and wonder at man’s inhumanity to man, his disdain for women and children, his abuse of the very earth itself. Making a “buck”, to retain power and control, create more darkness over the earth. WE are the Light. The Light dwells within us. This Christmas I celebrate a birth of a babe who taught me this. I celebrate by standing in the Light, against the darkness. I celebrate by spreading Light. 

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SATURDAY MORNING ON TRIAL

KRONOS/SATURN by Peter Paul Rubens , Public Domain

Saturday  morning;

dawn rises on a new day.

Saturn’s history at play

beyond ancient Rome’s sway.

We wonder if he will be made to pay

for destroying Saturnalia’s gifts.

This is no  Christian’s Christmas Day

created to hide his pagan ways.

This Saturnus is defective ,made of clay

which changes shape day after day.

Inside the gas giant on display

in the heavens worlds away

raging storms churn and flay

rallying followers 

drawn by his magnetic field

into icy rings that circle and shield

this Titan who seeks to wield

total power over the field;

not of wheat and grass and grain,

but of institutions threatened again

by fear and hate and retribution.

That is this Titan’s contribution.

He threatens every man, woman and child.

He devours even his infant son

held in his own arms but seen as a threat

to his control and power

which he worries over hour after hour.

This defective Saturn’s trials have just begun.

We wonder if courts will justice deal

before the Titan destroys all we love

because he cannot love, but only fear.

November votes bring new beginnings.

We can choose decency with heart;

choose freedom and love, or our end is near.

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GOOD FRIDAY

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I do not kneel

at the foot of the cross.

I climb upon it and feel

the pain and loss.

Each of us carries deep within

our own crucifixion.

We pull our weight up the hill

to our own Golgotha and pray,

accepting the help, with humble will,

of those who come along our way.

Perhaps it is sacrilegious to believe

suffering is truly sin’s reprieve

when we have been taught

His death made us free.

The curtain of my mind was wrent

and any hate I felt was tossed

beyond the confines of Lent

which led me to this Holy Day of loss.

Yet, hope remains that on the third day

My soul shall rise along His side

and fear will finally be put away,

knowing nothing can destroy me now.

I will live to see Him rise on Easter Day.

Not even death can stop me now.

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