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A Walk and First Bonfire

In the afternoon, we took the dog to the dog park. It's not that we felt she needed the exercise; rather, we felt she needed some canine socialization. We couldn't go to our favorite park without a walk, though, so after the dog had had enough (or rather, we'd had enough), we headed out for a short jaunt.

We likely would have made a bit longer walk of it had our favorite park not recently banned pets and bikes from the unpaved areas. K emailed the park administration about it, and they explained that it was due to a number of complaints about off-leash dogs and crazed cyclists who put others at risk and damage the flora. But the thing is, K pointed out on our walk today, we rarely saw others on the off-road trails. There were a couple of more-popular trails that had more traffic, but by and large, we were the only ones we ever saw there.

There is a certain temptation to say, "Forget it -- we don't damage anything, and we wouldn't dream of letting Clover off-leash, so we're going to walk the trails anyway." But we follow rules even when we don't like them. (Insert political comment here.)

After the walk, we let the kids play on the playground a bit. The biggest kid got a kick out of trying to do the same tricks the middle kid did.

To top off the weekend, we had the first bonfire of the autumn 2020 season.

Exempt

Churches are exempt from paying taxes; political organizations are not. All too often, though, the former morph into the latter, and it’s for that reason that many of us feel that churches should not enjoy tax-exempt status. Usually, priests and pastors couch these statements in less obviously political language. It fools no one, and of course, the congregants generally support that language and their perceived right to say it in an organization that pays no taxes — it’s seen as first amendment rights.

So to be present when blatantly political speech takes place in the context of prayer makes someone who holds the above views quite irate.

Today, we went to mass at St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, a church that we’ve attended a few times, and probably would attend more often given the difficulty of signing up for one of the available slots at our parish’s reduced-capacity masses. But I for one will not set foot in that building again after the blood-boiling nonsense I heard today. During the general intercessions, when it came time for the priest to add his intentions, he prayed for Trump and his pick for the Supreme Court position. I really wanted to walk out at that point, but I remained. It wasn’t as if he were thanking his god — which I put in lower-case, for it seems to be the god of political power — for the death of Ginsberg; he was merely supporting the hypocrisy of the right. Given the historical hypocrisy of the Catholic Church, it shouldn’t come as much surprise that a priest would promote and praise political hypocrisy in the name of maintaining power.

As the mass was ending, though, during the time just before the benediction when the priest usually makes announcements, he launched into another political speech about the importance of the Supreme Court nomination. I’d had enough. I walked out.

The Boy

Opportunity

Rarely do such stark opportunities emerge to rise to one’s professed principles or to sink to rank hypocrisy as this moment for Republicans. What will it be? Will they prove themselves to be a party of principle or a party interested only in gathering unto itself increasing political power? Will they, now that the shoe is on the other foot, treat Democrats as they demanded they be treated in 2016?

That’s the real irony of this looming crisis: Republicans wrap themselves in the pages of the Bible, proclaiming themselves to be the vanguard of all that’s decent — according to their definition of the term, which is always couched in religious ideals. But when it comes down to it, they are no more interested in principles or basic decency than your average thug.

In Armando Iannucci’s brilliant The Death of Stalin, there’s a telling scene in which Lavrentiy Beria, facing his own doom, demands to be treated in accordance with the law and then begs for mercy. In his brutal career, he faced such pleas countless times, I’m sure, and he always responded with barbarity and cruelty. When he lost power, he begged for just that which he would not give to others.

Lindsey Graham, Mitch McConnell, Marco Rubio, and Ted Cruz are on record:

So when Mitch McConnell said “President Trump’s nominee will receive a vote on the floor of the United States Senate,” he showed himself to be perhaps the best, clearest example of a hypocrite that one could imagine. It’s hard to envision a more clear-cut case of blatant, power-grabbing hypocrisy than what we’re witnessing now in the Republican party.

Any Congressional Republicans who go along with this show their constituency that they are not individuals of their words, that they are the basest liars, that they should not be entrusted with any power, and on the basis of principle alone, their Republican constituents should vote them out.

Will this happen? Of course not. Why won’t Republicans do this? Because the Republican party no longer exists. It is a party of only one principle, and that’s power. Republican states are no longer red states (Isn’t it ironic that the color for Republicans is the color associated with communism? Isn’t it ironic how cozy our current Republican president is with the Russian leader trying desperately to reconstitute Soviet power?); they are orange states, to match the hue of their lord and savior.

Before and After

Volleyball Thursday

At the Swing

For a few years there, you could count on pictures down at the swing and hammocks. It was such a regular occurrence that I pretty much stopped taking pictures down there. How many pictures of your kids swinging do you really need?

Today, we all went down to the swings for a while before dinner. I took some pictures, then gave the camera to the Boy.

He's got a good eye, that little fellow.

Tuesday Playing

K and the Boy spent some time rolling around the neighborhood this evening after dinner. One of the countless things I love about K is her own love of childhood joys.

She was on E's scooter, having the time of her life it appeared.

Afterward, we played a bit of soccer.

The Girl was at volleyball practice, so we had to do something to entertain ourselves.

And of course, we had to have a little down time once it was all said and done.

Rainy Monday

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Sunday Theological Thoughts and a Ride

A Ride

We went for a bike ride this afternoon to our favorite local park. We got an up-close view of a local:

We see them at a distance quite frequently, and they even come into our creek behind our house from time to time, but this is undoubtedly the closest we've ever been to one.

Sunday Theological Thoughts

While in Mass today I noticed an oddity that I'd heard many times but never really thought about: just before the congregation recites the Lord's Prayer, the priest says, "At the Savior's command and formed by divine teaching, we dare to say..."

"Why 'dare'?" I thought. "Doesn't Christianity present God as a father?"

A little research revealed this:

The priest notes what a privilege it is for us to be able to talk to God in this way: "At the Savior's command and formed by divine teaching, we dare to say …" What is it that we dare to say? "Our Father". This is precisely what Jesus calls us to do. It underscores the intimate relationship we now have with God because of Jesus' work of salvation. We share his life because he came to share ours. Through our union in Christ, God has truly become our Father.

Website for Church of St. Vincent DePaul in Singapore

I suppose the argument might be that pre-Jesus, no one would have thought to call God Father. I don't really know. But there's always been something of a thread of fear in most theisms, which seems somewhat unhealthy to say the least.

It's certainly present in the Bible, including this curiosity: "The fear of the Lord leads to life, and whoever has it rests satisfied; he will not be visited by harm" (Proverbs 19:23).

It seems somehow to echo what's said later in Mass, just before going to take communion: "Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed." If God is indeed to be seen as a father-figure, who ever talks to their father that way? If my children said they're not worthy of being in my presence, I would wonder how I'd managed to raise them with such little self-esteem. I don't even know that you could raise children to think that way without emotionally abusing them. I understand the sense of humility, but this just seems to be a little much. I know, I know -- I'm viewing it through a human perspective. That's all any of us have, though, and it seems, honestly, a little like a cop-out. "Who are we to question the ways of God?" covers a multitude of unanswered prayers.