The Great American Cancer

There is very little in our polarized society that most of us can agree on. One exception to that is cancer. I don’t know anyone who is in favor of cancer. My extended family is definitely on opposite sides of the political divide, but we have all come together multiple times in common grief as people in four generations of our family have died from glioblastoma brain cancer.

Our saga began with my 86 year-old grandmother, then my mother at age 70, then a second cousin in his early 30’s, and what we hope is the last was that cousin’s 9 year-old daughter. The little girl’s memorial service was so large (over 300 people) they had to hold it in a big building at the county fairgrounds.

And I know our story is not unique; it’s just the one I’ve lived through most intimately. It’s a tragic story for anyone who travels that road. That brain cancer is still very deadly, but the good news is that medical science has made great strides in treating many other kinds of cancer.

What we haven’t found is a cure for is the cancer of racism that has threatened our American democracy from its very inception. As we near the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence it seems like a good time to reflect on that part of our story many would like to erase from our history books and our consciousness. But as with physical cancer, the longer we deny the malignancy is present the more deadly it becomes.

Contrary to the sanitized version of out history that the current administration is promoting, the fact is that 41 of the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence actually owned other human beings. That’s 73% of those who signed this document proclaiming that “all men are created equal” and said “For the support of this Declaration… we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor” did so while enslaving other human beings! And that practice had been going on in this country at that point for 157 years, and it took almost 90 more years and 600,000 lives lost in a Civil War before those black persons were emancipated. Do the math – people were enslaved in this country from 1619 to 1863, or nearly 250 years. We cannot celebrate our nation’s 250th birthday without acknowledging those two and a half centuries as well.

To be fair to the signers of the Declaration some of them repented and freed their enslaved persons later, but that token number pales in comparison to the total numbers of those in captivity. According to the 1860 U.S. Census, there were exactly 3,953,760 enslaved people in the United States, about 12.6% of the total U.S. population.

But according to the simple history I was taught in my public schools that problem was all rectified by the Emancipation Proclamation, Lee’s surrender at Appomattox Court House, and the passage of the 13th, 14th, and 15th amendments to the Constitution. End of story. My history text books omitted any reference to Andrew Johnson’s destruction of Lincoln’s plans for Reconstruction, Jim Crow, thousands of lynchings, and destructions of black communities all over the country. I am pretty well read, and I didn’t know anything about the infamous destruction of Tulsa’s wealthy Black Wall Street community until we commemorated its 100th anniversary in 2021.

I review all that uncomfortable truth because there has been the temptation throughout our history to think the cancer of racism has been cured or put into remission only to have it metastasize and erupt in new and worse forms later. In my generation we fell into that trap at least twice. In the 1960’s more blood was shed in Selma, Birmingham, Memphis, and Mississippi, along with other cities across the country, but the Civil Rights Act, Voting Rights Act, Brown vs. Board, and other victories for justice seemed to justify the terrible sacrifices made.

But then came the backlash in Nixon’s Southern Strategy, Ronald Regan, and the conversion of the Party of Lincoln to the very things the Republican Party was organized to oppose in 1860. And then the pendulum swung again and Barack Obama was elected as the first Black President of the United States. The once impossible became reality, and we dared hope that the malignancy of racism might be excised from the American culture for good.

Again, we were wrong. The cancer went back into remission for 8 years. It was not gone, but merely dormant until its smoldering embers were fanned into a roaring blaze by the son of a racist New York slumlord. When Donald Trump came down the escalator in Trump Tower in 2015 he announced a campaign for President that appealed to the most basic fears and insecurities of white Americans who are threatened by a multicultural and diverse racial society. For 8 years of the Obama administration the fear and anger among whites who felt their privileged status threatened by any thought of equality with other races festered and metastasized into a resurgence of the systemic racism present in our history for 400 years.

What Trump and his oligarch buddies have done to our democracy in the last 10 years is almost beyond comprehension. We are living in a bad combination of 1984 and Project 2025. The billionaires are running and ruining our country just like the Southern Plantation Owners of the 19th Century and the Robber Barons of the 20th. One of those eras ended in Civil War and the other in the Great Depression. It remains to be seen how deadly this outbreak of American Racism will be, but we stand a much better chance of surviving this one if we celebrate our true history and not just the parts that make us white folks look good.

Advent 1, 2025 Matthew 24:36-44, BE PREPARED!

This message for this first Sunday in Advent in Matthew’s Gospel is also the motto of the Boy Scouts – “Be prepared.” As an Eagle Scout one could assume that it would fit my life style. I wish it did, but in crisis or stressful situations I’m not at my best. When I was about 14 or 15 my Explorer Post took a canoe trip on an old abandoned canal called the Whitewater Canal in southern Indiana. The name was misleading since there was no white water there, but there was one tricky spot in the concrete remains of an old lock.

Because the current got faster as it narrowed into the lock there was a sign telling canoeists to portage around the lock. Portage means to pull over to the bank, get out, and carry your canoe around to the other side of the lock where it’s ok to put back into the water. The problem was that the portage sign was so close to the lock that there was little time, especially for inexperienced paddlers, to exit the water before being sucked into the lock. The portage sign was on a cable stretched across the water and the first reaction to seeing that sign when it was too late to portage was to grab the cable and try to stop. The problem was the person grabbing the cable stopped, but his canoe didn’t.

Some of us who made the canoe trip in the first of two groups had found out the hard way how this worked and had a good laugh as we scrambled to retrieve our runaway canoes. So, rather than being good Scouts and warning our friends in the second group about this hazard we secretly hiked down to the lock while group 2 was getting ready to set off so we could see how many of them ended up in the drink like we had. Some did, of course, and we had a good laugh until we realized that our Scoutmaster in one of the tipped canoes had gone under and not come back up. He was trapped under the current.

It was truly a life and death moment, and I was frozen in fear. I remember yelling for someone to do something, but it felt like my feet were nailed to the ground. Thank God two of my fellow Scouts did act courageously. They jumped the 8 feet from the top of the lock to the water and pulled our sputtering Scoutmaster to safety. They were both honored for their bravery, but I was not prepared to act.

In less dramatic ways I was not prepared to leave home for college and spent an entire quarter terribly homesick. I was not ready for marriage at age 21 or for parenthood 3 years later – but then who is ever really ready for that responsibility. And now in my “golden years” I am certainly not ready for the challenges of aging!

So if it’s that hard to be prepared for “normal” life events that we know are coming, what in the world can we do to be prepared for the coming of the Lord? Matthew says, “Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.” (24:44). That verse is about the second coming, but Advent is our warning that we need to be prepared not just for the celebration of Christ’s birth but for the big surprise of his dropping in again any time he feels like it.

Sorry, Lord, I don’t like surprises. I don’t even like unexpected changes to my daily routine. And my weird sense of humor suddenly turns to the lyrics from an old song by Eileen Barton:

“If I knew you were comin’ I’d’ve baked a cake, baked a cake, baked a cake

If I knew you were comin’ I’d’ve baked a cake

Howdya do, howdya do, howdya do?

Had you dropped me a letter, I’d a-hired a band, grandest band in the land

Had you dropped me a letter, I’d a-hired a band

And spread the welcome mat for you

Oh, I don’t know where you came from

’cause I don’t know where you’ve been

But it really doesn’t matter

Grab a chair and fill your platter

And dig, dig, dig right in.”

It’s like dating or meeting someone important for the first time. We can put our best foot forward and be on our best behavior when we are prepared. Even I can clean up pretty well when I am forewarned. I can even tidy up the house when I know when my wife is returning from a trip, but “at any hour you do not expect!” That’s not fair.

But timing is not really the issue. God has known when we’ve been naughty or nice long before Santa or security cameras started tracking us. And it’s not rocket science. Being prepared for Christ is like an open book test. The Book has been telling us for 2500 years what God expects to find when he/she drops in unexpectedly. “He has told you, O mortal, what is good, and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8)

That’s pretty straightforward, and yes, much easier said than done. But please notice that last line – humility is the way to grace and mercy. God knows all too well we all flunk at doing justice and loving kindness way more than we like. But as 1 John tells us, “If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.” (1:9-10). That first part is humility, the second not so much.

And there’s another wonderful summary of being prepared for Christmas or any Christ coming. The whole Bible is a lot of stuff to digest. There’s not just 10 Commandments but hundreds in the Hebrew Scriptures/Old Testament. So Jesus boiled it all down for us. “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest? He said to him, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.” (Matthew 22:36-40)

Simple – love God and all your neighbors and yourself! Do that and you will be prepared. I hear you, but, Steve, how can we do that? We’re just fallible human beings after all! So, here’s the secret I’m counting on, and maybe you should too. “But Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but for God all things are possible.” (Matthew 19:26)

Biblical Reflections on Greed and Social Justice: A Note from Amos and Jesus to the U.S. Congress

I’m at a loss as to what to say with regard to the Big Hateful Bill the Republicans in Congress just passed by one lousy vote. I don’t understand how those 215 people who voted for this bill to literally take food and healthcare from the most needy Americans and give that money to the most wealthy 1 % of our population can live with themselves.

But since greed and hate have been around as long as humans have I think these these words from the Judeo-Christian Scriptures should speak loud and clear to our 100 Senators who now have the fate of this cruel and ugly bill in their hands.

“Listen to this, you who walk all over the weak,
    you who treat poor people as less than nothing,
Who say, “When’s my next paycheck coming
    so I can go out and live it up?
How long till the weekend
    when I can go out and have a good time?”
Who give little and take much,
    and never do an honest day’s work.
You exploit the poor, using them—
    and then, when they’re used up, you discard them.

God swears against the arrogance of Jacob:
    “I’m keeping track of their every last sin.” (Amos 8, The Message)

Or since so many of you Senators claim to be Christians, how about these words from Jesus himself:

“You who are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels, for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison and did not take care of you?’  Then he will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’  And these will go away into eternal punishment but the righteous into eternal life.” (Matthew 25:41-46 NRSV)

Lent: Fourth Sunday Prayer

O God of eternal love, we are here again needing your amazing grace.  We’re half way through our Lenten journey, and to be honest some of us have lost our way.  The distractions of life keep pulling us off track.  There are taxes to do, gardens to prepare, and our houses, offices, and even our lives need a good spring cleaning. 

Spring break isn’t long enough, and quite frankly we often come back from vacations more tired than when we left. Those school assignments or work deadlines are still lurking on our lap tops and in the back of our minds.  Instead of focusing on what you would have us do for others we get turned in on our own fears and doubts about the future—concerns about our own health or the well-being of our loved ones. 

Gracious Holy One, we know you have told us over and over again to put our trust in you and not in things that thieves or natural disasters can take from us.  But we still have to buy expensive food and watch our retirement accounts shrivel up.  Those fears are real, God.  And they make it hard to trust in the future. 

So we’re here seeking hope and assurance.  We need forgiveness for the times we have strayed from the narrow path that leads to salvation and for the times when we self-righteously look down our noses at others who are just as lost as we are.  Speak to us again your words of grace that tell us and show us that we can never wander so far that you can’t find us, for you are with us and your spirit is right within our hearts.

Remind us once more, O Holy One, that you are not the judgmental, angry God many of us grew up learning about, but you are the Good Shepherd, the mother hen, the eagle parents nurturing their young. You love us unconditionally forever.  There’s no fine print, no preexisting conditions in the new covenant we have with you that was signed and sealed in Jesus’ own blood on Calvary’s cross.

So with grateful hearts we the people of your kindom reaffirm our trust and offer again the prayer Christ taught us to pray …

Oligarchy Inaugurated

January 20, 2025 was a day of extreme highs and lows for me and for many of my friends. It is a day that may go down in history as the day the American experiment in democracy died. As of yesterday we are living in an oligarchy, and whether we the people can survive it hangs very much in the balance. It will depend on how much courage enough people can muster to fight for their freedom before it is too late. Our democracy is on life support, and only the citizens of this country can determine if it will live or die.

For millions of Americans January 20 was also a unique and special day in the world of sports. The first ever 12-team College Football Playoffs culminated that evening with a championship game between two historic football power house teams, Notre Dame and Ohio State. Being a life-long Ohio State fan it was a special treat for our local team to play in that game, and for 3.5 hours it was a riveting and welcome distraction from the threat unfolding in Washington D.C.

After enjoying the post-game victory celebration for Ohio State for about an hour I made the foolish mistake of checking my phone for the news before going to bed. Needless to say reading about the plethora of executive orders signed yesterday by our new Supreme Leader quickly put a damper on my spirit. It wasn’t unexpected, and I should have known better; but it was a reminder that a much more important contest is being waged than a football game. It was time to come back to reality.

Ironically yesterday was also Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and the contrast between his dream for America and the Trump oligarchy could not be starker. One is a dream of justice for all described in the amazing founding documents of our nation 248 years ago. King’s dream is also grounded in the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures which describe all people as being created in the image of God. King gave his life as Jesus did proclaiming a Gospel of love and non-violence.

 But the Trump oligarchy is one founded on capitalistic selfishness and greed. It is based on the exclusive doctrine of racism and white supremacy where strangers and neighbors in our midst live in fear of imprisonment and deportation. It is a message of imperialism and American exceptionalism where might makes right. President Trump’s promise of a new Golden Age is a barely disguised reference to the Gilded Age of robber barons which will take us back 100 years,  undoing the hard won progress on women’s rights, unionization, minimum wages, civil rights, global cooperation, the climate crisis, and humane working conditions. We have to look no further than Putin’s Russia to see what the nightmare of oligarchy brings.

Jesus directly warned us in the Sermon on the Mount that we cannot serve God and money (Matthew 6:24), and the proof that we worship the latter in this country was blatantly obvious as the richest men in the world were given the seats of highest honor at Trump’s inauguration. Today I am overwhelmed with feelings of anger, fear, and depression. I feel helpless to know how to combat the evil on full display in the White House. But tomorrow or one day in the future I will find a way to join the 50% of my fellow Americans who did not vote for oligarchy and together with God’s help we will find a way to turn this nightmare into a brighter, stronger, and more just democracy than ever before. I may not live to see that day, but in God’s due time I do believe that “justice will roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” (Amos 5:24)

A Long Overdue Apology

Is there a statute of limitations on dumb stuff one did way back in high school? I bet the vast majority of us would vote for an amendment to that effect if we had the chance. I am going to a high school reunion this weekend – one with a ridiculously big number attached to it. One of the great things about growing up in the 1960’s is that we didn’t have cell phones and social media to record our dumb stuff for posterity. But that doesn’t mean those embarrassing incidents aren’t tucked away somewhere in the recesses of our memories.

As I was thinking about our upcoming reunion a long-forgotten memory from the spring of my sophomore year popped into my consciousness and has been lurking around in there for several weeks now. And what’s more troubling than the memory is the fact that it never dawned on me for over 60 years how badly I behaved on a spring night in 1962.

I’m talking almost Donald Trump badly. No, I didn’t grab my date by any body part, and I didn’t assault her; but I did treat her very disrespectfully. It is painful even now to relive that night, but here’s the abridged version. I had a date with one of the smartest and nicest girls in my high school class. It was our first date, and you will soon see why it was the last.

I was still not even old enough to drive; so we double-dated with a friend of mine who was a senior. He had been going steady with a freshman girl for some time, and the four of us went to a party together. I’ll call him Bill to protect the innocent. Bill and I were both in a local Boy Scout troop, and I think the party we went to may have been one held by our troop to celebrate something which I do not recall.

So here’s the short and dirty – Bill’s date at some point, for reasons I will never understand, started flirting with me, and I fell for her charms like a ton of bricks. I proceeded to ignore my date for the rest of the evening to talk and flirt with my good friend’s steady girl. I don’t know how many points of the Scout Law I broke that night, but trustworthy, loyal, courteous, and kind certainly went out the window.

I have no memory of how that disastrous date ended. I don’t know why my date or Bill didn’t smack me silly. My only consolation is that my date and Bill ended up dating each other for a long time, much longer than my “relationship” lasted with the flirt. They got a much better deal from that double date than I did. The flirt dropped me a few weeks later in a much more unceremonious way than she did Bill. So, I got my just desserts.

But the most painful part of the memory is that I realized that I repeated similar kinds of disrespectful behavior in several other relationships with women throughout much of my adult life. I’m grateful that I learned to do better in mid-life; just wish it had been sooner rather than later.

But here’s my immediate dilemma. I will likely see the woman who was my date that night at our upcoming reunion. Should I apologize to her after all these years? I hope she has long since forgotten what a jerk I was, but I know I may feel more at peace if I unburden my conscience. What I wonder is if my apologizing is also the right thing to do for her? I welcome advice, especially from my female readers.

Prayer to Heal Our Addiction to Violence!

Late tonight (Monday), when I should have been going to bed, I heard about yet another mass shooting in California. Not the one Saturday, but a new one on Monday, at least the fourth in the U.S. in three days. I don’t know what to do with my frustration and anger about this uniquely American problem; so I let my heart pour out to God:

Dear God, as you know the bad news of hate and killing just keeps crashing in on us like a tsunami. Monterrey Park, Baton Rouge, Des Moines, Half Moon Bay-all names added to the shameful litany of American gun violence in just the last 3 days. We humans are violent. We’ve known that since Cain killed Abel, but Cain couldn’t reload and kill dozens of people in a matter of seconds. We are tired of the “guns or people kill people argument.” People with guns kill people, and people with access to weapons of war can kill indiscriminately.

Why, O Lord, do we Americans have more guns than any other nation in the world? Yes, we confess our nation was born in violent revolution, oppression of black humans, and genocide of Native Americans. Gun ownership was carved into our Constitution because Southern slave owners feared their human property would rebel against their cruelty. Give us courage, dear God, to face those harsh truths or we will never stem the red tide of innocent blood that stains our collective soul.

Holy One, the fratricide at Gettysburg, Antietam, Chancellorsville, and Chattanooga didn’t quench the thirst for American violence. And when the gun manufacturers couldn’t sell their deadly wares to the military after the Civil War they cleverly used racism and fear of “others” to market more and more sophisticated weapons to American men eager to prove their manhood and protect their property and loved ones by owning the latest guns.

God, we are so tired of the discomfort that creeps upon us when we are in a crowd of people and begin to look around to see who might be the next gunman! This is no way to live! The gun lobby has purchased the votes of our elected officials so that no common sense gun control legislation can ever see the light of day. In my state and in others people can now carry concealed weapons without a permit! We are regressing instead of addressing our problem.

What will it take, Lord, to bring us to our senses? How many more innocent people will die before we find the courage to put an end to this madness? Why can’t we learn from what other countries have done? American exceptionalism blinds us to the wisdom and experience we need to glean from other cultures and nations!

Lord, we do have a mental health problem, that’s true, but the paranoia, rage, and desperation are more than individual problems. Our whole culture, economy, and system of government is mentally ill and in denial. Wake us up from this nightmare, Holy God. Bring us to our senses so we can stop doing the same thing (nothing) and expecting different results! We obviously don’t have a clue as to how to stop the madness on our own. Bring us humbly to our knees and give us ears to finally hear and obey the voice of the Prince of Peace. In whose holy name we beg for your healing mercy and love. Amen

All Nighter Prayer

Hey God, do you ever have trouble sleeping? Oh, if you are omnipresent, I guess you can’t ever sleep can you? Or do you let the angels take over sometimes to give you a break? Yes, I know that anthropomorphic stuff isn’t real, but it’s 1:20 am; and I can’t sleep. I don’t know anyone else who’s awake at this hour that I can talk to; so you’re it. My sleeping pills have let me down. Reading and doing Wordle haven’t worked; and my blasted neuropathy has my feet feeling like they are on fire.

The more I think about my feet the more they hurt. The harder I try to shut my mind off, the louder the racket in my brain seems. At this hour all my aches and pains seem worse, and my list of things I need to get done in the next few days looms like some Sisyphusian boulder daring me to push it up that damn hill again.

I’m actually scared, God. The pain in my feet has never been this bad before. I’ve always been able to manage it with cream, drugs, and/or ice; but tonight/this morning nothing is working, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t handle sleepless nights like I used to when my youth groups did all night lock-ins at the church, or when I pulled all nighters to study for an exam or finish a term paper.

When you wrestled with Jacob all night long I guess he must have had a lot of adrenaline flowing to keep him going that long. That night near the Jabbock river Jacob had even more things on his mind. He was about to face the music of meeting his brother Esau years after he had swindled him out of his birthright and their father’s blessing. Jacob has sent huge amounts of cattle and other gifts across the river to assuage Esau’s anger, but restless Jacob is afraid it is not enough to buy his brother’s forgiveness. This one who has stolen his brother’s blessing is not satisfied with all his ill-gotten gain. What he asks of God to end their marathon wrestling match is a blessing. Will that salve his guilty conscience? Does a divine blessing imply grace and forgiveness?

In a way yes because the blessing God grants to Jacob is a whole new beginning – a new identity in the form of a new name. He is “born again” long before that New Testament term is coined. Jacob no longer is stuck with his birth name which means “heal grabber” because he tried to yank Esau back into their mother’s womb so Jacob could be the first born. His new name/identity is “Israel” which means “one who contends with God.”

I could use a new identity too, holy parent. My physical aches and pains try mightily to label me as a victim of old age, but when I am caught up in that identity I have little to offer you. I am like a fly trying to escape from a spider’s web, turned in on my chronic ailments instead of focusing my energy on all that is right for me and how blessed I already am.

I could do a lot worse for a new name than “one who contends with God,” even if that means walking with a limp. Please help me, eternal Being, to appreciate my gray beard and arthritis as reminders that I have been blessed with decades of life to wrestle with you and your call upon my life. Like Jacob let me know again that you are not far off at the top of some stairway to heaven, but right here in the sweaty ring of life with me even in the wee hours of the night.

Thanks and Amen

When, Lord, when?

Oh Holy One , I am feeling like pharaoh must have felt during the plagues. Fire, floods, Covid, monkeypox, and the stupidity of gun violence and war bombard me constantly from my newsfeed.

As the anniversary of 9/11 approaches once more I remember those pesky words from Jesus that we are to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us. That was hard then and still is, oh so very hard.

Never did I imagine back then that I would see the day when political foes in our own country would be the enemies that I struggle to love or even forgive!

I know it’s wrong but I find myself longing for the God of Exodus who drowned the Egyptian‘s in the Red Sea. Or even for the God of Mary who promised us that the rich and powerful will be sent empty away. When, oh Holy One? When will justice roll down like waters? When will we beat our swords into garden tools and never learn war anymore? When, Lord, when?

In the words of one who survived one of the darkest hours of human history, Corrie Ten Boom, “Lord if you want these people forgiven you are going to have to do it because I can’t.“

And yet I give you thanks, Lord, for modern day prophets like Diana Butler Bass, Brian McLaren, Nadia Bolz-Weber, and the dear departed Rachel Held Evans. They give me hope even in the depths of despair about the future of humanity.

And it’s not so much for myself that I pray, Holiest One. It is for those I love the most, my children and grandchildren, that I weep. They will inherit the mess my generation has made.

Please send your miracle-working spirit to renew a right spirit within us, to help us repent of the greed that is destroying our planet and the fabric of our society.

Oh how I hope that it is not too late. And I give thanks that in your eternal, cosmic power it is never too late. Amen

Awe, Mystery, and Disgust Part II

I am still processing the act of nature I witnessed in my back yard yesterday when a hawk

decided to drop in and have what I now believe was one of our many wild rabbits for dinner. In fact just looking at this image still gives me chills even though I didn’t witness the actual attack.

When I heard on the news today that this is the 6-month anniversary of the beginning of Putin’s invasion of Ukraine I could not help drawing the comparison to what the hawk in my backyard did to what the hawk in Moscow has been doing to Ukraine for half a year.

It is way to easy to be distracted by all the political foolishness in our own backyards and forget the war crimes and senseless violence the Russians are inflicting on our sisters and brothers in Ukraine. But it is a great disservice to the hawk I saw yesterday at my house to compare it to Putin. The hawk here was doing what hawks do naturally to survive. That’s what raptors do. But there is no natural or just reason for what Putin continues to do to Ukraine.

Cleaning up the remains of my hawk’s dinner was disgusting, but what is happening in Ukraine turns my stomach even more. Are we humans no better than that? Christ have mercy!