Friday, March 22, 2019

The Tragedy of The Questing Spirit


In 1947, in the wake of World War II, Coward McCann Publishers released a 700-page book called The Questing Spirit: Religion in the Literature of Our Time. All during the war, editors Halford E. Luccock and Frances Brentano gathered their examples of stories, plays, essays, and poems in the hope, which must often have seemed dim to them, that the War would end. This book is now virtually extinct. For the first few hundred pages, which I read to induce sleep, a little bit each night, I thought its extinction deserved. I was going to give it to the library, which might then recycle it, since it is falling apart. Indeed, many of the entries are merely devotional, even pieces by such recognized writers as E. M. Forster and Saki. I kept hoping for something that was actually a quest for understanding.

But a few passages stuck out. Lloyd Douglas (author of The Robe) referred to the world as “not fit to live in, much less die for.” L. P. Jacks wrote that humans were “ill adapted for living an easy life, but well adapted for living a difficult one.” And there was another story about shepherds that ran off to greet the birth of the Messiah, except one, who would not leave his sheep. He explained that he was a savior to those hundred sheep he stayed to protect. One particularly thought-provoking story was Peter’s Difficulty, by Frank Harris. Peter, guarding the gates of heaven, was worried that someone was helping deformed people sneak into heaven. Upon investigating, Peter found that it was the Virgin Mary who was doing it.

Some authors lived through the same spiritual angst that I had experienced. The loss of fundamentalist religious doctrine left me angry because God ought to exist. I wanted, and want, God to exist. But fundamentalism demanded that I believe all good people are going to hell if they did not accept the narrow Christian doctrines that I held. Even in the midst of fundamentalism, I never believed this. One author who shared my anger was the famous historian Will Durant. He wrote a letter (presumably to God, though he left it blank). He wrote, “Every invention strengthens the strong and weakens the weak; every new mechanism displaces men, and multiplies the horrors of war.” Human life, he said, was a “fitful pullulation.” Perhaps foreseeing Deep Ecology, Durant wrote that humans were “a planetary eczema.”

Some particularly striking entries were:

  • The Dawn of Peace, a poem by Alfred Noyes about how peace was coming like the dawn; what was once a vain dream is now an unstoppable reality: “Dreams are they? But ye cannot stay them, or thrust the dawn back for one hour.” I think that before he died, Noyes was sorely disappointed.
  • Vachel Lindsay exactly reflected what I believe today in his poem The Unpardonable Sin. “This is the sin against the Holy Ghost: This is the sin no purging can atone: To send forth rapine in the name of Christ, To set the face, and make the heart a stone.” This is what I would like to say to the warlike Trump-worshipers 72 years later!
  • John Galsworthy wrote a poem, Wonder, that made a similar point. “If God is thrilled by a battle cry...If God laughs when the guns thunder...Then, bewildered, I but wonder God of Love can love such things!” He ended the poem, “Merciless God, goodbye!”
  • Perhaps most striking was a poem by Sara Henderson Hay, The Shape God Wears, in which different animals described what God is like, in their images, and then the human tells them they are all wrong: God is actually in man’s image. A forgotten masterpiece.


The editors must have hoped that their quest would have some effect on the world. It did not. But even if the rest of the world has forgotten this book, I will remember it, even if for just the dozen or so pages that stood out.

Thursday, March 14, 2019

Evangelicals Worship Trump?

I have written lots of words about how evangelicals seem to have abandoned Jesus and turned their souls over to Trump. But this cartoon says it better than any words!


Friday, March 8, 2019

Don't We Feel So Sorry for Paul Manafort


Paul Manafort, Donald Trump’s former campaign chairman, was sentenced to prison today. His sentence could have been almost twenty years for the crimes he committed, but he received only 47 months, from which “time already served” was subtracted. He had to pay back the money he had gotten illegally, and pay what for him was a small fee.



And yet, through his lawyer, he whined that this sentence was causing him emotional distress and physical discomfort, and he wants us to all feel so freaking sorry for him.

Do convicted criminals deserve any punishment at all? Republicans seem to think that Republican criminals do not. This is just one more way in which Republicans consider themselves to exist on a godlike plane above the mundane world of human beings.

Monday, March 4, 2019

How to Love Thy Neighbor


There are lots of ways to love thy neighbor, most of which non-religious people affirm as well as religious people. Many of these ways are costly and time-consuming. I cannot afford the time or money to go help people in the latest war-torn site of starvation, disease, and despair—at the moment, I cannot even remember where this is. Yemen? South Sudan?

But there are some very simple ways, also. For example, by not throwing your garbage in the street or, especially, in your neighbor’s yard. I mean, how hard is that to figure out?

You can quickly gauge a community’s sense of spiritual love by counting the number of pieces of garbage in public areas. Oklahoma, where I live and work, is in the middle of the Bible belt and ought to be the place in the world most permeated with the love of God. But this is what I have found, based on actual count:

  • Tulsa: My wife and I walked along residential streets and through about a mile of city park land along a creek, total distance of about 1 ½ miles. Total number of garbage items: 1,325 plus or minus about 15. This is 833 pieces of litter per mile.
  • Durant: I walked about six blocks (about six tenths of a mile) through my neighborhood, and counted 640 pieces of garbage. Some were in my yard, but I did not put them there; they were things I would not even have bought. This is 1067 pieces of litter per mile.




(The image above is not from Oklahoma.) This garbage was everything from chunks of furniture down to cigarette butts. All of them were visible without having to stop and look closely.

American evangelicals like to consider France to be a spiritually desolate country, because most of its Christians are people the evangelicals will not admit are Christians. But in Paris, which is notoriously dirty, the number would be far less than the approximately 900 pieces of garbage per mile typical of my Oklahoma samples. I was too busy to count while I was there, but I’ll bet it’s around 100. And in Strasbourg, it would be about 20, or even close to zero. The French people, especially outside of Paris, are thoughtful of the environment they share with their neighbors.

Since you were wondering, only one of the pieces of garbage—in a parking lot in Tulsa—was a condom.