The Conversion of a Conservative to a Liberal

By William Bronson

Growing up, I lived in a bubble. I saw the world working fairly well. My father had a successful small business in high tech carbide tool and die making. He had started it when his employer, a subsidiary of General Electric, was going to close its repair shop, which my father ran. He made a deal that he would continue the work as a private contractor and take on other customers as well. He and his partner worked hard and the company became a success. My brother subsequently took over when Dad retired and now my nephew has taken over from him. My niece also worked for the company and her husband still does. Through all their hard work, wisdom, and diligence, the company has prospered.

I went into aviation and flew first for Northeast Airline beginning in 1966 when I got out of five years in the Navy where I earned my wings. Then Delta bought out Northeast in the early seventies. Delta was originally run by some caring entrepreneurs and we were told we were a family. Then greed walked in, in the form of some savvy CEOs. Ten years into my retirement, they declared bankruptcy as some other airlines had done, and hired people back the next day at a fraction of their salaries. Meanwhile they dumped their retirees on the taxpayers through the Pension (partial) Benefit Guarantee Trust Corp. set up by Congress for the apparent purpose of enabling bad corporate behavior. The bankruptcies were related to the ruse of corporate raiding of pension funds during good times and then finding them short during bad times.

So I learned that not all corporations are created equal. Big business didn’t play by the same rules as small businesses. Looking at big business through historical lenses, it became clear that so-called free enterprise mainly meant that they were free to enlist the services of government and taxpayers through their so-called representatives to gain unfair advantage over competitors and labor.

Looking overseas, the picture appeared even worse. Colonialism and neo-colonialism have resulted in half the world struggling to subsist on less than $2 per day, while most wealth is held by the very few.  Now globalization and so-called free trade agreements have only accelerated the distance between rich and poor.

America is not left out, with financial game playing that resulted in a crisis and bank bailouts by taxpayers who were threatened that things could get even worse. Then foreclosures became rampant due to unemployment due to nervous markets due to all of the above. Then Occupy Everywhere arrived as bright young students burdened with debt supposedly to be paid off by cushy jobs figured out they had been had like the rest of us. They are using the same techniques as the Arab Spring only instead of malicious military dictators, the villain has become the oligarchy, the same oligarchy that was responsible for the dictators. It is a money game and Obama doesn’t know which side of the street he should stand on.

I used to believe, simplistically, that if government stayed out of the way, free enterprise would create utopia and private charity would take care of the poor, especially if our society was liberally sprinkled with conservative Christian virtues.

Now to my horror, much like Frank Schaeffer, I discover that I helped enable a government which with great hubris has spent trillions creating mayhem overseas under the pretense of protecting ourselves and democracy through its escalated war on terror which has become a cash cow for the military industrial complex that Eisenhower tried to warn us against.

Having just observed Veterans Day, we were treated on all channels to a depressing litany of ruined lives by those lured into the military by promises of $15,000 signing bonuses and college educations. Now left damaged and maimed, many of them have to sort out whether they were in fact saviors of democracy or pawns in a very sick money game.

What to do now? I suppose pray that 2012 will in fact bring about some new worldwide epiphany that changes things for the better.

* William Bronson, DMin ’08, was an airline pilot for many years and author of How to Get to Heaven.

A meditation on change

by Ed Rodman

As a member of Change Team II I am offering this meditation.  As we begin the spring semester in the wake of the Martin Luther King Holiday, it might be helpful to explore the fundamental elements of King’s call to strive for the  “Beloved Community."

The four pillars of the beloved community are history, compassion, vision and sacrifice. They are held together by a basic commitment to the non-violent resolution of conflict and given energy and direction by a group-centered style of leadership. 

It was Malcolm X who noted that “history is the only subject that rewards all research.”  In that vein I invite the community to engage in a simple exercise that I challenged last semester’s Foundation to “try on;” to wit, Google the Know Nothing Party. 

You will find some very interesting parallels to many dynamics that are playing out in our culture today vis a vis the Tea Party and calls for more civil discourse. 

If we are to learn from history with the idea of not repeating our mistakes, it is critical that we have a sound theologically based social analysis that can understand, and not succumb to the passing passions and fads of the day. 

Maya Angelou noted, “history with all of its wrenching pain cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage need not be lived again.”  It is the “face it with courage” part that our society has great difficulty with, and therefore is continually replaying the various loops of nativism, mccarthyism, religious bigotry, etc. 

The Know Nothing Party had the best name for it and I am sure that if they had lasted long enough to have a symbol it would have been the ostrich.  As you read up on this period of uncivil discourse and harmful demonizing and polarization, you may have a greater feel for the passions that fanned the flames of the Civil War and many subsequent conflicts, both foreign and domestic.  

As Christians, I believe we are called "conservatives who status quo has yet to be achieved."  Jesus said it better “we are called to be in the world and not of the world.”

* Rev. Canon Edward W. Rodman is the John Seely Stone Professor of Pastoral Theology and Urban Ministry at Episcopal Divinity School, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

The Dark Night of the Soul

 By Toby Johnson 

The dark night of the soul refers to a kind of affective state, also called aridity, that is said to precede direct mystical experience. It refers to the notion that you have to go through a certain amount of suffering before you can realize joy and pleasure.  

The dark night is characterized by dissatisfaction, and boredom with the way “normal” people live their “normal” lives. Underlying this dissatisfaction is a “spiritual hunger” for something more than the world offers. This is interpreted as the experience of union with God. While this image applies to all people, it has particularly appropriate application to the experience of gay men, especially spiritually conscious gay men. 

There is a certain knowingness that goes with being gay, a sense of understanding a hidden dimension of reality that most people don’t seem to realize is there. We learn this early in life. At first, it’s just in reference to self. That is, we sense, often inchoately, that there’s something about ourselves we have to keep secret, something only we (and God) can know. We may develop a magical or religious vision of the world out of this sense of secretness or sacredness.

As gay men grow older we may come to understand that what we had understood to be the “secret dimension” was, in fact, the homosexual dimension, and that there have been others before us who’ve lived lives in secrecy and “darkness” as fellow homosexuals. We become fascinated with the homosexual slant which we—and our fellows—can see throughout history and culture. We want to know who was gay in the past, which movies stars, which politicians and celebrities, which spiritual teachers, shared our secret (often in their own “darkness”).

The people gay men—perhaps too cavalierly—call straight, the “normal” people, may not perceive this hidden dimension at all. There is, after all, no reason for them to mistrust what they’re taught by their parents, teachers, priests, etcetera, what some may call: “the authorities”—at least, no reason felt in their flesh. Of course, as they develop and deepen their own psychological and spiritual lives, they are liable to realize there is a secret dimension. That is, after all, the discovery of all those called “mystics.” An important part of the gay contribution may be precisely the revelation of the hidden dimension to life.

The dark night is a common step in coming out as gay. That is, gay men often experience confusion, depression, and loss of social identity as they realize their homosexual orientation.

First, perhaps, we sense that something is missing in heterosexuality; we long for something more. Then when we realize what it is we long for, we may feel humiliated or betrayed or at least may feel this is something we must keep secret.

Later, often through a life-changing moment of emotional intensity, we come to understand what homosexuality really is. Then the guilt and misconceptions are transformed, and we experience relief and joy. We have gone through the dark night, through the way of purgation, and discovered a whole new world and new self-concept.

The dark night is an image from a poem by St. John of the Cross, a sixteenth-century Spanish mystic. To one who sees the gay slant, this poem is an account of an anonymous sexual encounter that results in a mystical experience.

It tells how John sneaks out late at night in disguise and goes to a deserted spot outside the city walls and there meets a man, makes love with him, then realizes that this is Christ making love to him and he goes into a swoon. He wakes to find himself and his Beloved lying in a field of lilies, an allusion to one of the loveliest of Jesus’ sayings: Consider the lilies of the field, they neither toil nor spin, yet even King Solomon in all his glory was not adorned as one of them.

Gay men go through that darkness as a necessary part of being who we are. And thus we potentially see the mystical message behind religion. We potentially discover what St. John of the Cross was talking about: in every man we meet, especially those we have sex with or fall in love with, we can see Christ. Indeed, this is what “Christ” means: the real divinity of human incarnate life, here and now. As Jesus said, “What you do to the least of my brothers, that you do to Me.” And also: “The Kingdom of God is spread across the face of the Earth, and men do not see it.” The trick is to open our eyes.

This is not the wisdom of family values which is understandably concerned with maintaining the status quo, holding on to certainty, protecting the nest for the sake of the children. But precisely because, as gay, we don’t fit into the status quo, we don’t experience certainty and righteousness, we potentially have available to us the mystical vision of the dark night.  We can open our eyes and see in the darkness.

The Dark Night*

By St. John of the Cross

One dark night,
fired with love's urgent longings
- ah, the sheer grace! -
I went out unseen,
my house being now all stilled.

In darkness, and secure,
by the secret ladder, disguised,
- ah, the sheer grace! -
in darkness and concealment,
my house being now all stilled.

On that glad night,
in secret, for no one saw me,
nor did I look at anything,
with no other light or guide
than the one that burned in my heart.

This guided me
more surely than the light of noon
to where he was awaiting me
- him I knew so well -
there in a place where no one appeared.

O guiding night!
O night more lovely than the dawn!
O night that has united
the Lover with his beloved,
transforming the beloved in her Lover.

Upon my flowering breast
which I kept wholly for him alone,
there he lay sleeping,
and I caressing him
there in a breeze from the fanning cedars.

When the breeze blew from the turret,
as I parted his hair,
it wounded my neck
with its gentle hand,
suspending all my senses.

I abandoned and forgot myself,
laying my face on my Beloved;
all things ceased; I went out from myself,
leaving my cares
forgotten among the lilies.

*From The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh, OCD, and Otilio Rodriguez, OCD, rev. ed., Washington, DC: ICS Publications, 1991.

+Toby Johnson, PhD, gay spiritual writer, novelist, former editor of White Crane Journal, freelance editor/publisher was a student and personal friend of the renowned comparative religions scholar Joseph Campbell.

Christ’s Light Shines in Haiti

By Robert T Brooks

I’ve found over the years that God uses my experience, gifts, and talents in unexpected and powerful ways. I left my parish assignment four months ago. People are asking me, “What are you doing with yourself in retirement?” During the Epiphany season, I want to reframe the question: “How is the light of Christ showing forth, manifesting itself in your life now that you’re retired?”

I find this question useful, first, because it reminds me that my vocation is to do my part to further God’s mission, the missio Dei, in my work and in my life. I’ve always defined my personal vocation as “serving God and God’s people.” Second, the question reminds me that as a disciple of Christ, I always look to Jesus as my fellow traveler, my mentor, my guide, my friend. Finally, I’m reminded that I’m called to walk the walk, that it is in the showing forth of Christ’s light in and through me that those I know and meet will see God’s mission in action.

The newest manifestation of Christ’s light in my life is my developing involvement with 1000 Jobs Haiti (www.1000jobshaiti.org). Shortly after I retired last fall, I accompanied the Reverend Deacon Buck Close on a five-day trip to Haiti. My mission was simple: to observe his work and to discern how I might be of assistance. I had no clue of the answer.

Half way through the trip, on our daily visit to the Central Plateau, I had an epiphany. “Buck, I think I know how I can help.” Before I could explain, Buck shot back, “Bob, I know exactly how you can help. I want you to be the non-executive chair of the board of 1000 Jobs Haiti.” Since I was going to propose that I work with 1000 jobs on governance and strategy issues, I immediately accepted his offer.

What interests me about this assignment, this epiphany, this manifestation of Christ’s light showing forth in and through me, is how it so perfectly fits with my theology, my experience, my gifts, and my interests.

Episcopal Divinity School trained, it continues to form me “to serve and advance God’s mission of justice, compassion, and reconciliation.” So to be involved in a project with a focus on the creation of sustainable jobs at fair wages in one of the poorest countries on the planet, on promoting employment and self-sufficiency, and on developing markets for Haitian products; all of this is consonant with my theological understanding of what it means to be a Christian.

So for a “late vocation” Episcopal priest whose training and work includes military service in logistics, graduate study in finance, work in investment management, and a variety of not-for-profit board work, Buck’s offer was providential.

As I prepare for my first board meeting of 1000 Jobs Haiti, I am comfortable and confident in knowing that this is indeed an Epiphany moment for me.

*The Reverend Robert T Brooks '95 served three parishes as Rector: Christ Church (Kent, Ohio), Grace Church (Providence, Rhodes Island), and St Andrews (Little Compton, Rhodes Island). He is a faculty member of CREDO, chair of the Audit Committee of the Episcopal Church, and has served as a trustee of EDS since 2001.

The King James Bible at 400

New York Times, January 8, 2011

By VERLYN KLINKENBORG

Sometime in 1611, a new English Bible was published. It was the work of an almost impossibly learned team of men laboring since 1604 under royal mandate. Their purpose, they wrote, was not to make a new translation of the Bible but “to make a good one better, or out of many good ones, one principal good one.” What was published, 400 years ago, was indeed one principal good one: the King James Version of the Bible.

It’s barely possible to overstate the significance of this Bible. Hundreds of millions have been sold. In 1611, it found a critical balance in a world of theological conflict, and it has been beloved since of Protestant churches and congregations of every stripe. By the end of the 17th century it was, simply, the Bible. It has been superseded by translations in more modern English, translations based on sources the King James translators couldn’t have known. But to Christians all around the world, it is still the ancestral language of faith.

To modern readers, the English of the King James Version sounds archaic, much as Shakespeare does. But there would have been an archaism for readers even in 1611 because the King James Bible draws heavily from a version of William Tyndale’s New Testament published in 1534 and from translations by Miles Coverdale also published in the 1530s.

Tyndale’s aspiration was to make his New Testament accessible to “the boy that driveth the plough.” Though readers often talk about the majesty of the King James Bible, what has made it live is in fact the simplicity of its language.

Scholars have often debated just how much the King James Bible has influenced the English language. They count the number of idioms — “the powers that be,” for instance — that entered the language from the Bible. They look at how often it’s cited in the Oxford English Dictionary.

T. S. Eliot and C. S. Lewis deplored the idea of considering the secular literary or linguistic influence of the King James Bible. Eliot said it had such a profound effect because it was “the Word of God.” Lewis went further. He argued that the King James Bible had little influence on the rhythms of English and that many of the Bible’s characteristic rhythms were simply “unavoidable in the English language.”

But Lewis missed the point. The King James Bible has had an enormous impact on English for the very reason that it captures and preserves — and communicates down through the centuries — the unavoidable rhythms of good English. Its words are almost never Latinate, and its rhythms are never hampered by the literalism that afflicts other translations.

It would have been so easy to get that wrong, to let scholarship overwhelm common sense, to let theology engulf plainness. We owe an enormous debt to William Tyndale’s imaginary plowboy. All who speak this wonderful language still speak in the shadow of the King James Bible.

And from the KingJamesBibleTrust.org:

Christopher Howse gets Bible fever in his article " The global phenomenon that will never be lost in translation":

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/religion/8151865/The-global-phenomenon-that-will-never-be-lost-in-translation.html

The Daily Mail reports on how the King James Bible has provided the English Language with hundreds of well-known phrases:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1332138/More-half-young-people-heard-King-James-Bible.html

Robert McCrum wrote in the The Observer about how the King James Bible shaped the English language:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/nov/21/king-james-bible-english-language

Editor's note: For a postcolonial interpretation of the translation of the Bible into English and why the KJV triumphed over other versions, consult RS Sugirtharajah, Postcolonial Criticism and Biblical Interpretation (Oxford 2002), ch 5.