Memorial Day 2022

  Like most Americans, I will enjoy a day of vacation tomorrow. I have Pork Shoulder in my fridge, Mesquite in the bed of my truck, and will start “rolling smoke” early in the morning. In fact, as a teacher, my vacation is just starting. As a veteran, many friends will thank me for my service in conjunction with the celebration of Memorial Day. But, this is not my day. I always accept their compliments in the spirit given; however, we set aside Memorial Day to remember those who gave that last full measure, laying down their lives in service to their country. On Memorial Day I think of those men and women that I served with that never came home. They spilled their blood into the dirt of various places, never to enjoy the fruits of their sacrifice. I will enjoy a calm if windy, day here in Lubbock. I hope that their widows and orphans will enjoy some measure of peace and comfort on this day. I think of the country they sacrificed so much for.

What kind of country are we building? They poured out their lives for our future. Their sacrifice purchased you a future full of potential. Did they sacrifice in vain? Do we take the actions necessary to build a society and culture that lives up to the high ideals in our founding documents? The documents that lay out the vision of our Founding Fathers, and certain other luminaries that followed them, speak of a future pregnant with promise. They saw a country in which all citizens enjoyed inalienable rights. They envisioned a country that took care of its weakest members. They looked out and saw a land with unprecedented natural resources. So, what are we doing with their vision?

We inhabit a country founded with noble aspirations. During various moments and times, our country has shown exceptional courage and bravery. We’ve overcome significant challenges, physical and cultural. Today, we need to set aside our predilection for focusing solely on our own wants and consider the needs of others. We must address the gulf that separates the haves from the have-nots. We should not tolerate those kinds of laws that serve to estrange so many, consigning them to lives of hopeless ignorance and poverty. We must carefully steward this vast and beautiful land, a great gift from God, so that future generations will enjoy an environment of plenty and beauty. The pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness should not be the future of the well-to-do only. All of us should find success within our grasp. That is the kind of nation they bled and died for.

Tomorrow, when I fly my flag, I will think of those comrades who gave up their lives, in training as well as in conflict. I will purpose in my soul to seek out ways to forward their moral cause, the cause that animates this great experiment called the United States. I do not want their sacrifice, their bequest, to slip away into the morass of self-indulgent excess. That is not what they would want. Their honorable service will animate my efforts to forward the cause of liberty. That should be how I remember them.

What Kind of Society?

  Last week I completed my final “morning-duty” for the 21-22 school year. My morning duty includes standing at the front door of the school directing traffic and ensuring that all students get across the parking lot without becoming a speed-bump. One of the mothers dropping off her child was weeping. I asked her what was the matter?

She replied that she was afraid. As we all had, she had followed the events unfolding in Uvalde, Texas with great consternation. Now, the next morning, she wondered and fretted. Would she receive her cherished child back at the end of the day? I reassured her, explaining that what had happened there was not at all likely to happen here. That is what I’m supposed to do. She responded well, saying that despite her fears, she knew her son needed an education and that he must go to school. She drove off still fretting. That is our age.

It should not be that way. We have created a society that casually accepts the threat of violence and living in fear. In manifold ways we glorify violence. All types of media fairly drip with violence of some sort or another. Many of my students love wearing t-shirts emblazoned with symbolic violence. Music and movies regularly exalt brutality perpetrated against all types of weak individuals. We see the violence, perhaps even decry it, shrug our mental shoulders, and move along. We exchange pithy memes on the social media platform of our choosing and glare at the “enemy” on the other side of the abyss into which our country and society slides. Everyone agrees that this is a problem, but we do not lift a hand to make things better. 

We cherish our “rights” above all. These are my rights, and I will demand them despite the deleterious effect on the greater society. Rarely do we stop and consider what the effect of exercising my rights will have on those around me. Rights are important and we must defend them; however, rights come with responsibility for how we exercise them. As an officer in the Army, I found that increasing rank included increasing rights; but, I also found that those increasing rights entailed an increasing responsibility to exercise them appropriately. In civilian life as a teacher, I enjoy the right to grow a beard, a right denied my students…much to their consternation. What they do not realize and find hard to comprehend even with careful explanation, is that as a professional I am expected to present a high degree of respectability in my dress and appearance. Consequently, I keep my beard well-trimmed and wear sport-coat, tie, and slacks almost every day. I do so without instruction from my principal. I give up my right to wear shorts and Hawaiian shirts, my normal weekend attire, to better serve the community of the school. We need to rethink how we exercise our rights.

We enjoy the many rights enumerated in our founding documents. We must willingly embrace the concept that responsibility accompanies rights. Sometimes when we want to exercise rights that may imperil others, we must accept certain constraints on the exercise of the same. When driving, if I flaunt responsibility long enough, I may very well lose a cherished right. When exercising rights that will ultimately bend society in one direction or another, we must carefully consider how exercising these rights will shape our society. Yes, it is my right to bear arms. But do we really need a society that has 120 weapons for every 100 people (smallarmssurvey.org)? Do we want to build a society in which a mother weeps as she drops her son off for school?

When I was Most Weak

 6 For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. Romans 5:6 ESV

 

                The leak of the draft Supreme Court decision regarding abortion released a torrent of emotion. A sea of impassioned faces stares out at me from my screen, some ecstatic others baleful. Pundits in both camps struggle to make sense of this watershed moment. For many, this moment represents a hopeful victory, years in the making. For many others, this portends a savage curtailment of freedoms. For me, I am reminded of Romans 5:6, “For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.” When I was at the most weak and desperate someone in power spoke up for me.

                As a sixty-year-old man, a veteran of over twenty years of active service in the Army, ten years of experience in high school and junior high classrooms, father of three children, and thirty years of marriage to the same beautiful woman, I intimately understand the dynamics of power and relationships. I know what it is like to wield power and what it is like to suffer indignities under the lash of tyrannical leadership. At my lowest and most vulnerable, someone spoke up in my defense, giving up their rights for me. Yes, giving up their rights for me, a concept foreign and anathema to most of us. When I was weak, someone spoke for me. So now, I must speak for the weak.

                And yes, I speak for the weak, enfolded in their mother’s womb. They are voiceless, so I raise my voice for them.

                I speak for the weak, huddled masses along the border desperately hoping for a chance a something better. I speak for them, the sojourners. Some flee persecution and violence. Others flee a future darkened by unending, relentless hardship. I speak for them.

                I speak for the weak children, trapped in crumbling under-supported schools. They spend their days in dank edifices learning just enough to know that there is something better out there, but unable to escape to a brighter future. I speak for them.

                I speak for the weak, enduring a life of grinding poverty, alienated in a country they call their own. They know that the game is rigged against them. I speak for them.

                I speak for the weak, those ailing among us that cannot afford appropriate medical treatment. In a time of historically unparalleled riches, they perish for lack of standard healthcare. I speak for them.

                I speak for the weak among us who struggle to find their place in our culture. Adrift in a hostile environment, they long for patience and understanding. I speak for them.

                I speak for the weak who labor in the service industries that provide the foundation of our economy and the oil for the humming machine that supports our life of ease. They regularly toil in bare minimum wage jobs with no benefits, often working multiple jobs just to keep a roof over their heads and to feed a family. I speak for them.

                I speak for the weak among us whose lives have spiraled down into homelessness. Yes, poor decisions mar their path, but surely, they deserve some level of help and succor. I speak for them. But it is not enough to simply speak.

                We must also act, doing all that we can to provide the impoverished help and succor. The right to life must surely extend past the first nine months and include proper education, food for the table, shelter from the elements, adequate clothing, and perhaps most importantly hope for a future. In a country which is arguably the wealthiest in the world and perhaps historically, we must rid ourselves of our current churlish attitude towards those less well off. When we were at our weakest, raising our fists in open rebellion, someone spoke up for us. Given our astounding resources, physical, spiritual, and intellectual, universal healthcare is within our reach. To withhold such from large sectors of our population reflects our own selfishness. We should provide every child within our borders a high-quality education. To fail in this, simply ensures that we will have to deal with masses of uneducated youth trapped in low-wage jobs with no future. Those of us that enjoy all the benefits of contemporary American or Western culture also enjoy the responsibility of caring for the weakest members of that culture. Long ago, Jesus said, “…Everyone to whom much was given, of him much will be required, and from him to whom they entrusted much, they will demand the more.” (Luke 12:48 ESV) Future historians will not evaluate our nation on the numbers of millionaires and billionaires we produce. Every culture produces an upper, wealthy class. The more enlightened, worthy cultures allocate resources to care for and protect the rights of the weakest members of its’ society.

I know that many consider the possibility of a reversal of Roe v. Wade an assault on their rights. And I understand. For centuries, perhaps millennia, women have endured significant depredations at the hands of brutish males, and despite progress, still frequently endure second-class treatment; consequently, the quest to secure rights remains a critical and necessary work. Sadly, especially in some areas, securing appropriate treatment remains a distant goal. Much work remains to eradicate the pernicious weed of sexual discrimination. But a child, resting secure within the safe embrace of its mother’s womb represents the weakest of the weak. Who speaks up for this weak person? When I was weak, someone spoke up for me. Now I must speak, and act for the weak.