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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … January 24th, 2018
Jonathots Daily Blog
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Serve
When you fail to perform as the monster thinker
Serve
When you are declared a monster by those who think
Just serve
When the dark bounces its way back into your house
Be of service
If you trip on your lie in a passage to the truth
Serve with gladness
Finding the one you love has love for another
Serve patiently
Suddenly your sins find you out
Serve in tears
Winning the lottery on the same day your rich uncle dies, leaving his fortune to you
Serve humbly
Alone in a lonely room on a lonely night
Hold serve
The answer to all we mention
To every mortal question
Is to stand and muster great nerve
Then…
Serve
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Dudley … July 27th, 2017
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DUDLEY
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Jesonian: Reverend Meningsbee (Part 25) Go Help Someone Else … October 16th, 2016
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Meningsbee had always found it much easier to memorize the Beatitudes than to adhere to them.
Along with his “wayward wishings on the Web,” he seemed to have an inability to express consideration to other Earthlings. He didn’t feel animosity, just found that fellowshipping was better performed, in his mind, by reading a fine book.
When he woke up on Wednesday, it struck him that he had not interacted with Matrisse and little Hapsy for some time.
Guilt settled in.
Like many mortals, Meningsbee pretended to despise guilt, but often welcomed it as a warm comforter for a chilled thought. So the first thing he did was incriminate himself for failing to be in contact, and treating Matrisse like she was a drop-off center for abandoned children.
He fussed over that for a season, nearly sprouting a tear, and then was able to don appropriate pastoral garb and head off to her house. The activity did lift his spirits, and he began to feel like a preacher again. After all, when you stand behind the holy desk and thunder everlasting truths, it is good to give a damn about souls.
He arrived at the house, took a deep breath, and exited his car. As he walked up the steps to offer solace and comfort to Matrisse, the door flung open in front of him and there she was–squared off, staring at him as if some monster had invaded her porch.
“What do you want?” she challenged.
Stunned, he tried to respond. “I just came over…”
She interrupted. “You came over here because you’re a parson–and think you should interfere in people’s lives when they haven’t asked for your help.”
He paused, surprised, because she had pretty much nailed the situation. That’s exactly what he thought.
She continued. “Listen, Reverend, I’m not like other people. It’s not as if I despise them for being weak, but my thought is, I go to church to take the Word, to answer my questions, to create the sentences for me to go out and make a statement. I don’t cry a lot, but I also don’t bitch. I don’t fuss with other people, especially if they decide to learn their lesson and not fuss with me. And I don’t judge a young girl who had a baby because she forgot how to close her legs, who right now would rather be just a lost child herself. Hapsy seems happy. I feed her. I love her. She laughs. She thinks I have a big belly. So I pretend my stomach can talk, using my belly button as a mouth. She thinks that’s hilarious. I am not looking for help and most certainly–dear God–I’m not looking for pity or the wise words of some seminarian who spent too much time at the library. Let me take the message you preach on Sunday and act it out–so this little girl has a chance to be something other than a stripper, or a nervous sermon-maker.”
She took time out to breathe, glaring at Meningsbee, content she had made her point. He thought about explaining his motivations or trying to convey to her the need to let the community of believers share in her struggle, or just allowing him fifteen minutes to come inside and have a cup of her most delicious tea.
But he waited too long, because Matrisse punctuated her soliloquy with one final thought. This one was a little more tender.
“Listen, Richard. Why don’t you…”
She paused, leaning forward, changing over to a whisper.
“Go…find…someone…else…to help.”
Richard–Reverend Meningsbee–the Shepherd of the Garsonville Church–agreed.
He smiled, turned on his heel and walked back to his car.
As he climbed in, he thought, if the world had been filled with folks like Matrisse, Jesus could have retired instead of being buried by his critics.
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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant
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G-Poppers … September 4th, 2015
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G-Pop sat quietly in his chair, checking his emails on his I-Pad, as two of his grandkids were perched nearby, surfing the channels for something to watch on the television.
For some reason, the girl, the older of the two, paused on the History Channel, which was showing a special on Hitler and the Third Reich.
The younger boy asked the girl, “Who’s that?”
“Hitler,” she replied.
“Who’s he?” he asked.
“A monster.” She then turned the channel and they were on to more entertaining possibilities.
G-Pop wondered if he should say something. Yet it really wasn’t what they refer to as a “teaching moment.” The kids were obviously seeking diversion, not instruction.
But he realized that most people do think of Hitler as a monster. After all, it’s too frightening to consider that he was just a human being who got trapped in a “monster idea.” Unfortunately, the monster idea is still trouncing around while Hitler is long in his grave. What is the “monster idea?”
It’s a 2-part conclusion which always ends up in some form of treachery: “I am better. We are the best.”
When the notion that “I am better than other people” links up with followers or advocates to form a mob mentality of dominance, somebody is going to get hurt.
Maybe it won’t be six million Jews. Maybe it’ll just be six people disincluded from our party because of their color, nationality or preferences.
But the monster still roams the hillsides, seeking to kill off the innocent.
Until this is addressed, we will insist that our form of nationalism is nothing like what was promoted by the Nazis. We will allow politicians to openly condemn entire races of people in the name of protecting our national security.
We will even extol the piety of a woman refusing to do her job because she feels that she is better than those who have come to receive their rightful privilege.
- Right and wrong is ultimately determined in the heavens.
- Humility or arrogance is our choice.
- And those who choose arrogance in the name of right are always wrong.
- And those who choose humility in the presence of wrong will historically be judged right.
It’s as simple as that.
There are no monster people…just people who are following a monster idea.
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Untotaled: Stepping 17–(November 25th, 1965) Too Late to Understand … June 7, 2014
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(Transcript)Angry. Sweet.
Gentle. Mean.
Vindictive. Giving.
These words seem to be opposites of one another but they were all part of the personality of my mother.
All through my childhood, I had endured a see-saw of emotion which was not only painful, but unpredictable.
November 25th was Thanksgiving Day. I was excited. I walked into the kitchen rubbing my hands together with enthusiasm and asked my mother “when the feast was going to be ready.”
She turned to me with a bit of fire and spit and said, “Why don’t you cook it? It’s hard work.”
It was cold, ferocious and beyond my understanding. I just went to my room, cussing her name.
For after all, this was a woman I had seen empty her cupboards of canned goods to help a neighbor in need and then, the next day, turn around and curse that same neighbor for dereliction and laziness. She would often come into my room and give me a hug, only to scream at me an hour later for watching cartoons–“being in her way” during vacuuming.
In my youth I heard her speak of brotherhood while referring to some individuals as “worthless niggers.”
If I’d had a lick of sense–which I didn’t–I would have realized that a human being who is angry, sweet, gentle, mean, vindictive and giving–well, when you combine them, what you end up with is confused.
In my later years, I understood.
She was seventeen years old when she married a man who was eighteen years her senior. she never got to travel, she didn’t get to go to college, was unable to flirt with either disaster or blessing and birthed five children, which from time to time seemed more of an inconvenience than a heritage.
She lived in confined quarters with limited funds, with a very stoic husband who often went on trips to Canada without providing a definite return date.
I wish I could sit down with her and tell her that I’m sorry I did not understand her plight. In today’s world, she probably would be diagnosed with some sort of neurotic condition which would be tempered by medication. Such remedies were unheard of in her day and age.
The greatest reprieve to my soul is that on the day she passed from this world, I was the last one to see her in the nursing home. We had a wonderful trip to the mall and on the way back, together sang her favorite hymn, The Old Rugged Cross.
She taught me a lot without realizing that she was instructing.
It was neither the fits of anger nor her acts of generosity that remain with me, but rather, a desire to be universally merciful to people when I don’t know their whole story.
So nowadays I would only ask three questions of anyone I encounter:
- Can you admit you’re not happy?
- Are you willing to be happy?
- Will you stay with it until happiness arrives?
That’s all my mother needed–someone to give a damn.
It’s hard for me to remember her as a mom or a mother, and I certainly don’t want to look on her as a monster.
She was a woman named Mary who was given limited possibilities … and did the best she could.
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After an appearance earlier this year in Surprise, Arizona, Janet and I were blessed to receive a “surprise” ourselves. Click on the beautiful Arizona picture above to share it with us!
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But Not Now … January 22, 2014
Jonathots Daily Blog
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On Monday our nation commemorated the life, mission and times of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., while continuing to be racially, culturally and emotionally disconnected, scattered like a 1001-piece jigsaw puzzle.
The reason? We avoid solutions by replacing them with discussions.
I wish I could tell you that merely conversing on a given subject brings about change but actually, it’s a way to dodge the impact of transforming ourselves into truth by merely debating the particulars.
In 1959 in the United States, the average white person would tell you that equality for the black man was inevitable. Most did not contend that segregation was ideal–merely practical. And the reason they found it to be so useful was that the alternatives that came to the forefront were so frightening that it seemed better to cling to something that was incomplete and unfulfilling. In other words, “black Americans should be equal. But not now.”
It continues today.
Women should be equal and have a pay scale identical to that of a man, but not now. “We need more studies by learned experts before we take such a drastic step.”
It is obvious that the minimum wage is not sufficient for a human to be able to live, eat and prosper, and something will have to be done. But not now. It could wreck the economy by forcing small business to incur expenses they are not prepared to undertake.
Something should be done for the homeless and disenfranchised in this country–to put them to work or offer alternatives to their present condition. But not now. It is much easier to have an argument over whether their condition is caused by lack of opportunity or by laziness.
It is historically demonstrated that the gays in our society will be required to have complete equivalence with everyone else if we want to maintain the integrity of our concept of liberty and justice for all. But not now. What we want them to do is acquire moral acceptance before they are granted civil rights.
Obviously, the political gridlock in our country initiated a two-party system that gains power by maintaining power, and that we would be better off if this two-faced monster were beheaded, and many more candidates were offered to the electorate. But not now. Too disruptive to consider many alternatives for leadership from different parties.
Likewise, the electoral college is antiquated and needs to be replaced with the popular vote which determines elections. But not now. What would we do with all the people who have been assigned positions and the folks who make their livelihood by honoring its cumbersome inner workings?
You understand, it is not that we lack the intelligence, or even the integrity to know what to do. Instead, we are stalled in a lethargic fear of change when it comes in any of its forms.
You will know that you have become a mature human being when what is truthful is more important to you than what is convenient.
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Please contact Jonathan’s agent, Jackie Barnett, at (615) 481-1474, for information about scheduling SpiriTed in 2014.
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