I love to change the world (7/27/2020)

When I was young, much younger, I was an idealist with a goal to change the world. Don’t we all at some point have these aspirations. But then we grow up. I listened to tunes from Ten Years After where they sang in their song “I Love to Change the World:”

Tax the rich 
Feed the poor
Till there are no 
Rich no more 

And,

Population 

Keeps on breeding 

Nation bleeding 

Still more feeding, economy 

But then there was this refrain to the song:

I'd love to change the world 

But I don't know what to do 

So I'll leave it up to you 

For many of us it was a difficult thing to do, to change the world. We were flower children, peace, love, but what else?

I protested against the CIA’s involvement in Chile. My wife and I spent almost two years working at a leprosy center in Africa, after an obligatory period in the Dutch Army (I was too chicken to be a conscious objector, although I did my best to be as difficult as possible while serving). Did that change the world? Not in the tiniest bit, but in addition to almost losing our life, it made us feel we might have done something.

Then, after two more international development jobs, it was time to settle in for middleclass life, or as we sometime say in my native language little house, small tree and a small animal (or huisje, boompje, beestje). So here I am 40 to 50 years later, after living a middleclass lifestyle, nothing has changed, or maybe somethings have changed for the worst. I would still love to change the world; although I still am not sure how to do it. Here I sit back in my armchair and I am secretly encouraged to see that a different, younger generation seems to be taking it upon themselves trying to do something about it. Things like gay rights, gender equality, and now black lives matter.

I am far from disappointed with my almost 70 years of existence. Working for the government I have to change the world in a more subtle way, and I do that with my teaching. I have tried to do that a little bit in the blog posts that I have written in the past. While they were intended to be more educational about nature and the environment, a lot of my posts have become more political. Necessarily so, with such a horrible person in the Whitehouse.

I am hoping to have at least another 20 or so productive years to go. Twenty years where I have the freedom not to sit back, but to work on changing the world. Right now, I am wondering which of the causes to pick up. There are so many pressing ones. My first inclination as a biologist is to work fork for the environment. Without a clean environment there will be no future for the next generations. Moreover, environmental justice is a very important issue which touches the environment, children, poverty and racial minorities. Moreover, research by Richard Louv and others has shown that criminal behavior including gang affiliation can be reduced by exposure to the natural environment.

A country for frustrated people (6/16/2020)

Being originally from Europe and immigrated to the US at the ripe old age of 41, at least that is when I officially became a US citizen I have always had a somewhat unique view or opinion of my newly adopted country. This came back to the foreground 26 years later during the recent Black Lives Matter demonstrations, the reactions to them by certain groups and after listening to a radio show on NPR.  Let me explain. 

In the past folks always asked me to contrast the difference in religiosity between Europe and the US.  Not that I am an expert, or ever went to church while living in Europe, but I try to oblige.  It seems to me that here in the US folks are so much more religious than in Holland or in Europe in general.  My superficial take has always been that the religious heretics, fanatics, outcasts, or persecuted, whatever you may call them fled to the US, for the so called freedom of religion.  Good riddance!  Here in the US religion flourished and like it or not this is what we ended up with.  This is why I think we have such a plethora of different religions and splintered off groups and really fanatical groups.  There are all kinds of different denominations and groups; on top of that they came up with a couple of new ones here as well.  Very unlike what I experienced in Europe (I think).

This theory is mostly something I developed in my mind and it makes sense to me.  It has been bolstered by some materials I have read and heard.  I am sure that I am completely wrong, but I like the theory.  To me it is an interesting way of looking at things in these times of racial upheaval, after the George Floyd incident.  It also relates to what is currently happening.  I am very encouraged to see that in the current Black Lives Matter demonstrations there are so many white folks that have joined in; in particular young people.  It shows that racial attitudes are slowly changing (as they should).  In the rest of this essay (or blog post) I would like to explore why I think it took so long.  But I do not think it is unlike what we are seeing with the religiosity above.  

I stood on the sidelines at the 1969 race riots on the small island where I grew up.  I watched them march by our school that day and I can still see it.  They stopped in at the Portuguese owned grocery store across our high school to buy something to drink on their way downtown.  I was 15 at the time, in awe and itching to join; fascinated and curious but scared, so I did not join them.  I don't think any of the students did.  I really did not understand the issues anyway, and when I got home I noticed that my parents were deadly afraid.  We had moved out of the Congo in the mid 1950s, where many colonialists (including friends of my parents) had been killed during the war of independence in the early 1960s (read V.S. Naipaul's A Bend in the River, or Margret Atwood's A Poison Wood Bible.  Both are novels but very well researched on the subject.) 

With this migration of the religious bunch also other persecuted folks came along: the poor, day laborers, the enslaved, indentured servants, sharecroppers, in essence the downtrodden looking for a better existence.  So it should not be surprising that the people who were so used to being discriminated and being used and were now freed, were happy to return the favor or at least did not see anything wrong with slavery, discrimination and the false idea of racial or ethnic superiority.  In other words, they had no problem with their opinion that they were better than than those people with a different skin color or even those that spoke a different language.  They came from a culture in Europe where they had been treated that way, and thus that attitude and thinking was normal; now finally they had the upper hand.  In my opinion this is partially the root to a lot of the racism we see in this country.

While most Europeans realized the mistake of their ways, in particular after what happened under Hitler and other fascist regimes, the folks that immigrated to North America never did, and superiority of the white European race was still being held on to.  It is a terrible thing to let go off and we still see this in the current occupant of the White House, his followers, (or is he blindly following them?), many of the Republicans in congress, the white nationalists, Nazis, and like folks.  

As I mentioned above, I am encouraged to see that the movement appears to be sustainable for right now.  However, we need to make sure that these folks go vote.  We need to get voter registration tables out there at the protests and get everybody registered, because that is the only way to change things.

          

George Floyd or Black Lives Matter (6/1/2020)

I am upset. This country is being torn apart, hijacked by certain people, a noble cause is being drug through the mud, allowing dog whistles to fly.

Let me explain, I am white or Caucasian if you have not figured that one out yet. I was born in the darkest of Africa, the Congo. I often joke that this makes me an African American, although I have a distinct advantage of having a white skin color. I can only imagine what real African Americans go through.  I have actually been subject of reverse discrimination of which I write about here.  I grew up in the Caribbean and had white, brown and black friends. We did not see the difference (and this was in the 1960s). In my adult life, I worked in Africa, the Middle East, Asia, and on a Native American Reservation. Again, it acknowledged to me that we are all the same. We all put on our pants in the morning, one leg at a time. Currently, in front of our home we have a sign that reads “Black Lives Matter.” 

The sign in our front yard.  We got this at our church and we proudly show this in our front yard.  We get people stopping by, who tell us how much they like it.

I have not been blogging much lately, this Covid-19 business has gotten me down, but as you can probable surmise, the George Floyd murder and what is currently happening to this country is really upsetting me. Yes, I am as upset about it as everyone else. While I am against the death penalty, I almost wish the police officer would face a similar penalty: “death by knee strangulation.” What upset me almost as much was the video of one of the police officers quickly looking at the scene and then looking away.

What also upsets me is what followed. I really liked the nationwide demonstrations. They are needed to focus attention on what is happening to the black community and they are needed to bring social and political change. Boy, do we need social and political change (I might write about it later). However, I do not like the looting and the burning of buildings that accompanied it all.

Our church is on the border of a black, somewhat poor neighborhood, and since the outbreak of Covid-19 I think it was burglarized 3 times. In my mind and I have explained it to my wife by telling her that probably these folks cannot or have a hard time getting unemployment or even the stimulus check. To be able to survive they have to go to food pantries, food kitchens or rely on burglary. Case-in-point, the food was stolen out of the fridge at church, in addition to the laptop. So the looting of grocery stores maybe, but fancy sneaker stores, not really. In addition, it seems that there are right-wing agitators in the crowd that maybe egging them on or are really the Molotov cocktail throwers and fire starters. 

It was Dillan Root the white-supremacist Charleston Church killer, who hoped that his killing would “start the revolution.” Other white-supremacists were hoping their action would do the same thing. I am afraid that this is what the agitators are trying to do, assisted by Trump, who is sending dog whistle after dog whistle to his troops and supporters, and the failing Republican Party. We need to go back to peaceful protest and do the following things:

1. Elect Biden as our next president
2. When we do that, make sure that Biden selects a young, dynamic person as vice-president. Because, we all know that Biden will serve for one term and this person will be next. We need a new generation of leaders and thinkers in this country. I am a 66-year-old baby boomer and I realize it is time for new thinkers. Mayor Pete or a younger white or black male or female would be a good choice.  (I used to be a Klobuchar fan, but it seems that she did not prosecute the cop that killed George Floyd for a previous violation when she was the District Attorney).
3. Trow the republicans out of congress and the senate, they are obstructionists and cling to the old ideas of yesterday that don't work and have caused the situation we are in now (the riots and the Corona pandemic).
4. All these protesters should understand what Trump is doing, keep up the demonstrations (peacefully) and they should use the power of their vote to force social and political change. Get people registered and get people to the poles in November. Yes, Trump and his cronies are going to call them socialists or worse communist. Remember, he is in bed with Putin, the real communist dictator.

Self Isolation sucks (4/27/2020)

I am an introvert. At least that is what all the tests tell me. By now in my sixth week of self-isolation I am starting to wonder if I am a charlatan, a master in fooling all these tests and if I am really an extrovert. I am sick and tired of being stuck at home. Yes, I go on daily walks around the neighborhood with my dogs and say hello the regular folks: dog walkers, exercisers and alike, social distancing of course. However, I can still count on both hands how many times I actually left home in my car and mingled among others.

Except for two restaurants take outs and three visits to the hardware store, it seems that the other visits I make are to my local Kroger store (the supermarket). I put on a mask get my Purell and go get bananas for my father-in-law, and while I am there, I might as well do some shopping for our own pantry. In all these stores you get to see people, but even there is no real interaction with these folks. You do not know if they laugh, smile frown, at least if they wear a mask. You avoid everyone like the plague; like ships passing in the dark. With the exception of the one lady who ran a shopping cart into my back and this young kid who could not help all the sudden stop in from of me and then when I passed him he stated coughing and he did not have a mask on. The other day I was struck by the idea, that finally an enterprising sixteen-year-old with a grey wig, a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, and a bandanna can finally buy beer at a grocery store with a self-checkout line.

I would say that 50 to 60% of the people at a grocery store or hardware store wear masks, and what amazes me is that most folks that wear masks are either older, which is good, or appear in good physical shape. Walking around these stores I look over the ones that do not wear a mask and many appear to be in their 40s and 50s and heavily overweight; struggling to walk. I cannot help thinking: “another dead man or woman walking.” If they do not have diabetes or heart trouble, they will soon have it and that is the population most affected by Covid-19.

But back to the extrovert introvert controversy. I like my solitude, being alone strolling along in nature in the woods; but I do miss that human interaction, the human touch, the exploring of new things. That is what I am missing after 6 weeks. Yes, I have my wife at home, but that is not enough. Introverts do like to be among humans, but it tires them out after a while, after which they need to recharge somehow by solitude. But solitude is different than being alone. Solitude is good, alone is not (I wrote about that in this post). I am wondering how many people are alone, these days; even when they are living with others.

Solitude is where you find solace. I find my solace from being with my bonsais, from walking in the woods, being out in nature, sailing, blogging, or even .just driving the backroads, all activities I do in solitude or that I can do with my wife. The problem is I have not been sailing much, for my blogging I need to get out and experience life, and self-isolation is not conducive to that or to aimlessly driving the back roads. While I can still enjoy retreating in the woods, I usually do not seek solace there. I do it because I am an introvert, a naturalist, a lover of nature and because of my nature deficit disorder. However, at times, I definitely have retreated into the solitude of the woods when I was sad and worried, in search of solace. But of late it is my little trees where I get lost in and dream about how to develop them, watching them as every leaf come out.

This is an azalea that I dug up from our yard last year.  It was planted by the previous owner more than 20 years ago.  It never bloomed, was abused by deer and was less than 5 inches tall.  This is the second spring in this pot and it is awarding me with this blossom.  After flowering it is training time for this plant.   

My Sermon (2): Liberation (4/5/2020)

As part of a group that takes a sermon writing class at our Unitarian Church, I am asked occasionally if I present a sermon on the days that our minister is either off or has a commitment elsewhere.  I relented and said I would do one.  Originally I was thinking of presenting a sermon on growing bonsai and spiritual growth and church growth; however, when the request came out, they asked me if I could do something on liberation.

So here it is:

It started with a low rumble in the distance which progressively grew louder. Of late this had been an ominous sign of another impending raid by marauding soldiers trying to escape north to the Sudan in advance of the liberators who were in the process of overthrowing the current government of the country. I remember it like yesterday, being liberated. 

Let me set the stage, it was May 1979 and my wife Donna, and I were living and working at a Leprosy Center in the eastern part of Uganda, a country that had been ruled by the ruthless dictator Idi Amin. We had been in the country for over a year, and I had been working at the Leprosy Center as a Farm Manager, managing a 2500-acre dairy farm, with close to a 1000 head of cattle, that was part of the Center. In January of that year, rebels with the assistance of Tanzania to the south had invaded the country in an effort to overthrow the government. In April, I think it was actually on Donna’s birthday or just before that, did Uganda’s capital Kampala fall. The Amin army fell apart, deserted and tried to flee to the Sudan to the north. The problem was our Leprosy Center was located just off the major highway to Sudan. We had been unable to evacuate in time and we were stuck at the center. During the past weeks we had been subject to the looting and harassment sprees of these fleeing soldiers. Moreover, while under siege for the past month to a month and a half we were running out of all things essential (sounds familiar?) and had to live on one candle a night; two or three matches a day; we only ate sweet potatoes and eggs three times a day; drank rainwater and locally distilled moonshine. I’m amazed that I still have a liver and my eyesight. 

Hearing the vehicles approaching in the distance meant that we needed to get ready to deal with another wave of obnoxious soldiers (corner me over a beer one of these days and I can tell you some stories, but this is not the place today) when all the sudden tanks and jeeps rolled in, very unlike the deserters who came in with stolen ramshackle cars. Here they announced that they were the liberators, the Tanzanians! It was unbelievable feeling of relief that moment, being liberated, we laughed, we cried, we knew we had made it. Let me tell you, there had been moments the past month that we thought we were not going to survive it. Really, being liberated never felt so good. On top of that, the evening of our liberation Radio Netherlands read an announcement over the shortwave radio in which it told the listeners that we were missing in Uganda and asked anyone who had heard of us or seen us to call the Netherlands foreign office, but that they feared the worst. 

But, we were liberated and we were alive, we could live again without fear! Almost everybody was rejoicing and celebrating; and that night we burned two candles and had a small get-together, followed by a center-wide party the weekend following. 

During that party, the flood gates opened, the people were finally able to express what they thought of Idi Amin’s reign and the past 10 years they had lived through. We heard more horror stories about the oppression, the difference between the haves and the have nots, how you could not even trust your closest relative, because they could rat you out and that could cost you your life. 

Living in Uganda and working with lepers, we were working with a part of society that were outcasts and heavily discriminated against. Nowadays we would call this social justice. Social justice is not a new thing, but unbeknownst to us we were practicing it. We were not using those words; we were there to help. Some could ask me why the hell we put ourselves in such danger to serve and work with these folks. It was a combination of a lot of things including compassion, empathy, naivety, and the thirst for adventure. I have always been a teacher at heart and in my way, I also was there to observe and teach. While we had already learned a lot about the difference between the ruling class and the common folks, it was then and there that we really appreciated the importance of liberty and being liberated. 

The center where we worked was sponsored by the Church of England and the local Bishop was on our board. He was a regular visitor to the center; however, he would return to his Ivory Tower after his visits. 

Other religious folks we encountered were the Dutch catholic priest and the Italian nuns. Those Catholics were a different breed all together. One of our favorite story was about father Meindert van Acht, the brother of the Dutch prime minister at the time, who we frequently visited. One day, just after we arrived at his remote village on the slopes of Mount Elgon, a 14,000-foot-tall volcano located between Uganda and Kenya, we sat on his porch and watched him exiting his church. He had just finished mass. There he came, walking towards us with the bible under one arm and a crowbar under the other, a sight to behold, a priest, the brother of the second most important person of the Netherlands, in a tattered and torn robe with these two items under his arms. We never asked him if and if so, how, he used the crowbar in his service. 

Father Meindert had one request, which was that he did not want any visitors on Tuesdays because that was his weekly whiskey night, so he did not need an excuse to drink. All other days were great. The guest room was always open, and, in the evening, he would break out the mass wine or some additional whiskey for his visitors and himself. During visit with the Italian nuns at a Leprosy Center in Jinja in north central Uganda we always enjoyed fine Italian wines and good conversation. 

But it was not always fun and games or drinking to excess. It was a form of stress relief in a country where it was very difficult to work in. It was a country where we saw a lot of murders, assassinations, political and social injustice, and where we all tried to work with those folks who were oppressed and looked down upon. We youngsters, in our early and mid-20s, were in awe at what the missionaries were doing, how they were living, coping, and surviving. They lived alone; we were in a group of 6 Dutch folks who could give each other at least some mutual support. They were outwardly happy, content, even keeled and at peace with themselves and their god. I guess that is what their belief did to them. 

In those days we had not yet learned about those words “social justice” or another word called “liberation theology” that Father Meindert and his compatriots were practicing in the villages of Uganda or elsewhere in the developing world. 

Liberation Theology was first introduced by the Uruguayan Priest Juan Luis Segundo Gutiérrez in 1971. In his book “A Theology of Liberation” Gutiérrez proposed that the true task of theology was not to declare pristine abstract truths, rather ‘only by doing this truth will our faith be “verified.”’ At that time Gutiérrez and other liberation theologists in Africa, Central and South America were struggling to bridge the gulf between divine justice and social justice, trying to address the reality of human suffering and confront their own discipline. Some of them were trying to approach the Bible from the perspective of the powerless. 

In the opinion of the liberation theologists, the church should be a movement for those who were denied their rights and plunged into such poverty. Folk that were deprived of their full status as human beings. Liberation theologists were of the opinion that the poor should take the example of Jesus and use it to bring about a just society. 

A common way in which priests and nuns showed their solidarity with the poor was to move from religious houses into poverty-stricken areas to share the living conditions of their flock. The nuns that operated the leprosy center in Jinja and the Dutch fathers that were operating the boys orphanage in Mbale a town to the south of us or father Meindert on Mount Elgon, were working with folks that were either down on their luck, from a tribe that was on the fringes of society, the poor and the sick, or just simple outcasts. They were not the pious religious priests from my memory growing up on a Caribbean island, but real down to earth people who served the communities they were working in. They were not there to save souls; at least they never expressed that to us. 

Regretfully, we did see some missionaries from some other denominations in Kenya whose interest seemed only to be there to save souls in an effort to stroke themselves, somehow still living in their ivory tower, and seemed less interested in social justice. 

Most controversially, the Liberationists said the church should act to bring about social change and should ally itself with the working class to do so. Some radical priests became involved in politics and trade unions; others even aligned themselves with violent revolutionary movements. They were often accused of spreading or at least preaching the revolution, socialism or even worse, communism. As the Argentine theologian José Míguez Bonino said it was the revolutionary challenge of those who boldly proclaimed: “Jesus Christ is Che Guevara.” Liberation theologists were often not accepted by their regular church and told to shape up. Some tried to moderate it a bit with statements such as: “love for the poor should be preferential, not exclusive.” Things finally changed a little bit with the new Pope who led a less opulent lifestyle and paid more attention to the poor and sick. 

Although we live in a free country, even here in the US there are different levels of being free, isn’t there? If you are white, have money and often if you are male (especially a white male), you seem to be freer then others. It should therefore not be a surprise that even here in the U.S. liberation theology took root. The Protestant African-American theologian James Cone wrote in his 1970 book entitled A Black Theology of Liberation: ‘If God is not for us, if God is not against white racists, then God is a murderer and we had better kill God.’ Black religion, Cone asserted, began not with an abstraction but with the acknowledgment that ‘God is Black’ and present in the experience of black people, from the slave auction block to the urban ghetto. Others argue that that the Bible assigning a male gender to God was the original justification for the patriarchy. This was discussed by the feminist theologian Mary Daly in her book Beyond God the Father which was published in 1973. 

I travel a lot around the state and get to see the economically and environmentally depressed areas of the state, both black and white. The inner city and the Appalachian region. This is one of those things we have been trying to address this in our community as part of our social justice commitment. Here at the UUFP we have a social justice table that we can visit during coffee hours and find out about worthwhile causes. We go to marches; we have a black lives matter banner outside; you name it. But let’s not forget the other causes out there as well. 

We UUs have a rich history of social justice, ranging from our stand against slavery, to the voter registration in the south in 60s and 70s, to our support of the Black Lives Matter movement, to our push for gender equality, equal rights, marriage equality, and to the social justice committees that you find in almost all the UU churches and fellowships throughout the country. Social justice does not stop there, we are also concerned about environmental justice. 

After working in the 3rd world, the freedom to move around, to think what you want, to express it to friends and family, freedom of association, or even think to yourself and not be in doubt. All the things that makes me so happy to be a citizen of this country, to be a member of our UU religion, and especially of this fellowship. The UU’s 6th Principle which promotes: THE GOAL OF WORLD COMMUNITY WITH PEACE, LIBERTY, AND JUSTICE FOR ALL is so darn important to me after what we experienced in Uganda and the other countries, we have worked in. It also makes me scared of the things I see happening around me or what has happened, but at the same time hopeful about the countercurrent that is occurring as well. 

Remember, today social justice can mean different things for different religions and we need to watch out for false prophets. For example, some will even claim that preventing a woman’s right to choose is a form of social justice. Competing claims of being on God’s or at least the right side are testing the limits of a liberal social order straining to accommodate militant believers. Our fourth principle tells us that we: A free and responsible search for truth and meaning. This is something many dogmatic religions don’t allow; it is something totalitarian governments try to suppress, like the one we experienced in Uganda. Let’s use it wisely in defending it and applying to our efforts in social and environmental justice. 

That is what I try to do throughout my life, and I know many of you do. I had the privilege to get an education, but I try never to be condescending to anyone and share my knowledge with all who want to hear it. We are not rich but contribute to the church and other worthwhile causes both monetarily and by volunteering. We are socially active when we can and marched for women, for science, the environment and for gun control. All I can say is to stay true to yourself, like father Meindert, the Italian nuns, and the many liberation theologists and try to address the human suffering around us and in particular the suffering of those who are socially, economically, environmentally and racially disadvantaged. 

I believe we all can learn from the example the liberation theologists gave us and incorporate them in the way we live our UU faith.

Donna and I visiting one of the male nurses and his family at his home in the village in Uganda

Invocation:

Rev. Karen G. Johnston

Do not be alone right now...

Gathering together grows courage...

These things add up: your one thing & my one thing; his one thing & their one thing & her one thing…

Do not be alone right now. Do not let me be alone. Any liberation – all liberation — is collective liberation. My freedom is bound with yours and yours with mine. Inextricably...

Reading:
The Gift— Hafiz, translated by Daniel Ladinsky

We have not come here to take prisoners,
But to surrender ever more deeply
To freedom and joy.

We have not come into this exquisite world
To hold ourselves hostage from love.

Run my dear,
From anything
That may not strengthen
Your precious budding wings.

Run like hell my dear,
From anyone likely
To put a sharp knife
Into the sacred, tender vision
Of your beautiful heart.

We have a duty to befriend
Those aspects of obedience
That stand outside of our house
And shout to our reason
’O please, O please,
Come out and play.’

For we have not come here to take prisoners
Or to confine our wondrous spirits,

But to experience ever and ever more deeply
Our divine courage, freedom, and Light!”


Benediction:Barack Obama

Change will not come if we wait for some other person, or if we wait for some other time.
We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.
We are the change that we seek.