Saturday, April 28, 2018

Food Aid


Having just given the rich hefty tax cuts, the Trump administration and Republican Congress now are bent on reducing aid to have-nots in sundry ways. NCR editorialized:
While cable pundits are buzzing about Stormy Daniels, the most vulnerable Americans now face the prospect of losing critical nutrition support for their families. 
The editorial bemoans the draft of the 2018 farm bill that proposes cuts to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP). Rep. Colin Peterson of MN said it would drop 8 million people—children, seniors, disabled, and those who aid them—from getting food aid. Authors of the draft are reconsidering because of intense opposition. 

It’s already an old story during this administration. It and Congress propose outrageous attacks on vulnerable people, then have to back down in the face of vigorous objection. Citizens have power during this critical time, but only if we keep paying attention. 

We must not accept as normal what is now going on in D.C. This president and this Congress do not represent citizens fairly. They got their positions of power through gerrymandering and misleading propaganda paid for by Big Money. We need to keep calling out against injustice. Only if we are vigilant can we save our country from its immoral politicians. 

Responding to proposed food-stamp cuts, a Benedictine friend mourns, "What next?"

I draw strength from a psychic friend who sees the sun rising because of Trump's presidency. When we've sunk so low, the only direction to go is up.

But we have to make it happen, with our attention if nothing else. Staying informed, paying attention, is not doing nothing. Our mind activity alone can help to make things happen.



Saturday, March 31, 2018

Migrants on the Cross


From Good Friday to Easter, Christian church-goers memorialize the transformation of a man named Jesus who lived in Palestine. The Apostles’ Creed says he descended into hell and rose again from the dead.

From Joseph Campbell I learned of innumerable myths around the world with an array of Christ-figures whose lives resemble the Jesus story. The myths tell of transformation—dying and rising—often through the death and resurrection of a god or goddess. Campbell called this ubiquitous theme “the monomyth” of ancient civilizations.
The Aztec god Quetzalcoatl evokes Christ on the cross by sacrificing himself and descending to the Underworld. His heart then rises to the heavens and becomes the star Venus.

A Mother/Daughter myth of dying and rising balances the Father/Son myth of Christ. Persephone, the daughter, is abducted by Hades, who rules the underworld where the dead live. After her descent to the dead, her mother Demeter becomes enraged and withers the earth into a wintry death.
Demeter and Hades come to an agreement. He lets Persephone ascend to earth and live there for two-thirds of the year. When she rises, Demeter allows the earth to reawaken and it bursts into the fertile growth of spring.

Persephone’s descent and dwelling awhile in the underworld symbolizes a drop into the unconscious, where she is transformed. We all are transformed during moments—sometimes lasting years—when our divinity within guides us through perilous circumstances.

Striking examples of cross and resurrection today are the journeys of migrants. Imagine the terror of facing their horrific crossings over sea and land and then perhaps to meet hostility at their destination. If they experience a final resurrection on this earth, it is hard-won.

Our small deaths and resurrections pale by comparison, but recognizing the parallels with their journeys may help us to empathize appropriately.

*****************

A college classmate commented on Knowing from the Other Side:
Thanks for sharing this wonderful piece, Jeanette. Great story demonstrating how we all have this inner voice of intuition and it’s important we learn to listen to it, trust it, and follow it. I’ve heard it referred to as our own personal GPS (Global Positioning System).

A teacher I follow states: Your emotions are your very own GPS, a rock-steady, unfailing and unerring "personal navigational device" to get you where you want to go. "All is well. You did not come here to fix a broken world. The world is not broken. You came here to live a wonderful life.  


Wednesday, March 7, 2018

Knowing from the Other Side


Maxine Moe Rasmussen lives in the country near Ada, Minnesota, about an hour east of Fargo and Moorhead. I asked her to read and comment on parts of my memoir. One of my chapters prompted the following story in response:
Helen and her husband Bob lived across the road from us, where he grew up. She grew up a quarter mile east. They were related to much of the neighborhood and were its matriarch and patriarch. I was out walking one day and about a mile east of our house I turned around to walk back home, when I had the sorrowful thought that everything would soon be changing in our neighborhood. I didn’t like the thought, so put it aside, but it was a knowing that could not be denied.
 One morning I stopped at the mailbox to pick up mail on my way to work. I was always running late and in a hurry. As I stopped the car and got out to get mail out of our box, I heard Helen’s voice. She was saying something to Bob, don’t know what, but at the sound of her voice and the closing of her car door, I felt a strong punch in my gut—the only way to describe that feeling, like someone punched me in the gut.
 Not long after that, Helen got sick. My beloved neighbor Helen was in the hospital with cancer. I doubted she would get out of the hospital and was thinking this as I left my house to go to the garage one day. I noticed the new moon above me and it was so very bright. Brighter than I’ve ever seen the new moon, neon bright. At that instant, the thought came that Helen would not be here when the moon was full. She held on while the moon gained in size and was almost full. I wondered if the prediction could have been wrong when I was so certain it was correct. She died the morning of the day of the full moon.
 My certainty of the knowledge received at the new moon was correct. I can still see the extreme brightness of that new moon. These experiences are truer than physical experiences. I can only see them as real and true.
 When Helen got into the car that one morning and shut the car door, it was the last time she set foot on that land. No wonder I felt a punch in the gut. She and Bob had spent their whole lives within a quarter mile of land. She never made it home again. It was a definite ending.
 Bob hung on a few years before he died. These two kept the neighbors connected, and their deaths brought about many changes. Shortly after Bob died, their daughter Mary died. Mary was the one in their family who kept things together. I still miss them very much. It’s been five years since their deaths and we still do not have neighbors across the road.  
Maxine was experiencing a knowledge that can't be verified by science, nevertheless true.

Sunday, January 14, 2018

Pews Emptying

It happens sometimes that I read one of my letters in a publication, agree with it, and discover I’m the author. (I admit my countless letters are one reason I haven’t blogged faithfully.)

It just happened again. I came upon a letter I submitted to National Catholic Reporter in December. It applauded an article about “churchless nones.” They are identified as non-affiliated with any religion in surveys of religious participation by the Pew Research Center. The article that drew my comment accepted “nones” as often being spiritual without being religious.
. . . If you’re looking for a place to comfortably park your soul, coming out as spiritual offers benefits.
But it wondered what the “nones” believe. I wrote,
What do they believe? It matters not what God-images draw them to the Inner Realm. But what’s better than the images given by the spiritual master Jesus? The inner Reign is like yeast, like a seed, like buried treasure, like a pearl (Matthew 13). I vastly prefer these images to the father-son gods created by the religion that claims to represent Jesus of Nazareth. 
I believe Catholic pews are emptying because the gods imposed by stale Mass language are no more credible among educated persons than pagan gods. We need a hierarchy that spreads teachings of the spiritual master Jesus instead of regulating liturgies to promote a god and male supremacy.

Thursday, December 21, 2017

Solstice

On the winter solstice I think about its meaning for our northern climate when the sun rarely companions us. The brooding darkness naturally directs us inward, not a bad thing. This darkest time of the year also begins the ascent to ever more sunshine. It's lovely to anticipate that.

Christmas descends from pagan traditions that celebrated the rebirth of the sun on this day. In the third century, Christian leaders borrowed from them the idea of honoring the birth of the sun with a feast. What evolved was Christmas. Calendar adjustments threw its date off kilter.

Christians call this the Paschal Mystery—death giving birth to new life. May new life grow in peace initiatives in our country and around the world.
Blessed Solstice and Christmas and New Year to all.

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

Religious Freedom Subverted

The Supreme Court is hearing a case about religious freedom. A baker in Colorado refused to make a wedding cake for a gay couple, but state law bars discrimination based on race, religion, gender, or sexual orientation. Whose sincerely-held beliefs should prevail—those of the baker or gays?
Is the issue religious freedom or discrimination?

This case addresses the same issue that the court sent back to lower courts in 2016. The Little Sisters of the Poor did not comply with the Obama administration’s mandate to provide contraceptive services for their employees. Their name—Little Sisters of the Poor—made it easy for right-wingers to accuse Obama of bullying.

My sympathies lie with women employees too poor to pay for contraception and for whom pregnancy would be disastrous for medical or economic reasons. The Sisters apparently do not know that moral theologians on the birth control commission in 1967 advised Paul VI to change church doctrine banning contraception. The Little Sisters should be educated, not encouraged in their rigid orthodoxy.

Their case was settled by having the insurance company pay for contraception and the sisters didn’t have to offer it in their health plan. But Donald Trump became president, zealous to overturn Obama’s legacy. With encouragement of his administration, the Little Sisters contend their own religious freedom is violated because their workers have the freedom to practice birth control that the Sisters consider immoral. Their argument defies logic.

Another company, Hobby Lobby, claimed religious grounds for denying coverage for certain types of birth control they consider abortifacients. The Supreme Court, now right-leaning with the addition of Neil Gorsuch, ruled in favor of Hobby Lobby. All three women justices dissented along with Stephen Breyer.
Hobby Lobby’s health plans will continue to cover vasectomies and Viagra!

I deplore the triumphal crowing of Catholic bishops over this decision.  From the time the so-called religious rights issue arose, I have considered the bishops’ naming of it ironic. What they call “religious freedom” denies others the freedom to follow their conscience. That the bishops disagree with women’s conscience is irrelevant. It is not the bishops’ bodies or their finances at stake.

How would this issue have been handled if women had decision-making power? Or if lay men and women in the Church did? Answers to these questions clarify our thinking about it. If ultra-right moral police sincerely want to reduce the number of abortions, they will let women do it with contraception.

Like the Little Sisters, religious officials want the right to force their moral judgment on others with different moral views. They claim "the right to discriminate against any class of people" who disagree with them, writes Pat Perriello in National Catholic Reporter.

Whose sincerely-held beliefs should prevail? All sides were accommodated by having insurance companies pay for birth control. It is no burden for them because birth costs them more than preventing conception.

The issue is not religious freedom. It is discrimination.  


Tuesday, October 31, 2017

All Hallows Eve

To mark All Hallows Eve, which celebrates the saints, I am retelling true stories of encounters with saints told by their family members still living in this material world. Our secular world refuses to accept the interpretation I give them. I think they give evidence of spiritual reality—what we call “God.”

But first I want you to know why I've been neglecting this blog. I've been working on my memoir and getting letters published in papers. The latest, supporting gun regulation, appeared on Sunday in the St. Cloud Times.

Now, stories of saints. Mindy's dad passed to the Other Side years ago:
Just recently I was in a terrible dream in which I was in a woods, lost and hungry. I was crying. Suddenly, quite serenely, my dad walked out of the woods, wearing the khaki pants and flannel shirt I remember him wearing. He held out his arms and hugged me. Then we walked into an adjacent room and we danced. It happened to be Father's Day eve! I woke up happy and nothing that day could have changed my happy, calm, peaceful mood, even though the weather was dreary. It's given me pause to think about him and feel his love for me in strong ways I never felt before.
Death is the threshold connecting this material world with the immaterial, spiritual world. About three months after her father’s death, Faye was sitting on her couch, grieving his passing, and thinking, “How can we go on? All the ways he helped us—what will happen now?”

A bright light enveloped her, not like the shining sun, but pulsing. It was beautiful and she immediately felt her dad’s presence. Without hearing words, she felt the message, “All will be well. You are strong.”

She sent a message in return, “We love you. Goodbye.” And it was goodbye. Nothing similar  happened again. She knows that this, not his funeral, was the real goodbye.

Cindy contributed her story for my blog:
Mom was very ill with breast cancer and died November 2005. She knew she was dying but wanted absolutely no one to know about it, including her doctor. She dealt with it all alone and in silence. Before Mom died she had some visitors. She told me these stories ten days before she died, and they are shocking to all of us. She said she was lying in bed when Dad, who had died in 1994, lay down next to her.

"Did he say anything?” I asked. “What did you do?"
"He didn't talk, he just lay there. I didn't talk to him either. I just worried about what I was going to make him for breakfast. I had nothing in the house."

Another time she was in bed and at the foot of it stood her father with a very young child. They smiled at her and left. She said he really was there, but she didn't know who the child was. She thought it was a girl because the child was wearing a white long dress. My cousin assured me it was no girl. She is more into the paranormal than I, someone I need to introduce you to someday. She said she was sure Pa brought Mom's older brother to meet her. This almost-two-year-old had died from some childhood disease.

Bob’s mom was an immigrant. Approaching her room in ER, he heard her having a conversation in her childhood language, but when he got to the room, no one was there but she. Several times during the last weeks of her life, she communicated with her deceased sister and other relatives. Asked how that could happen, she said, “They come to me,” and added, “I do not have a fear of death.”

Her doctor said many patients are able to cross over before their bodies finally let go of this life. On one of those last days, Mom saw a shining golden light with angels inside it. “Do you not see that?” she asked.

Bob tried many medical avenues to save her life, and she fought to stay alive for him and his wife. But then he heard her praying to be taken. Two weeks before she died, he had a fruitful conversation with her and said, “It’s OK to go.” His wife noticed that she seemed more at peace after that—her face had lost its anxious look. When she passed, her face became a visage of joy.

Hospice workers tell people to give their loved ones permission to leave, and there are many stories of dying persons waiting until they have that permission, then dying in peace.

One more story, this one by professional writer Linda Marie, after the loss of a valued friend:
It was July and we were planning a get-together for several mutual “city” friends to be held on my deck. I talked to Coleen one morning, firming up the details, and that night she was gone.
One day the next spring, I was leaning on the railing of my deck, just sort of reflecting on the lake and life and nature.
I looked down and saw a turtle climbing out of the lake onto the sand. It was the first one I had seen that year. Thoughts of Coleen, her massive turtle collection and her unusual intrigue for the shelled species came immediately to mind.
The turtle, just a few feet in front of me, stayed very still, with its neck stretched farther out of its shell than I could recall ever seeing, and it was turned directly toward me for—oh—for a very long time . . .
I never tire of stories like these, often told after the death of a loved one. To me they liberate spiritual reality from institutional religion and materialist science.
Although I love them, real encounters fill some people with dread. This must be the reason Halloween evolved with its spooky ghosts and goblins. I enjoy giving candy to the kids at my door, but I wish our secular culture would take seriously the real evidence of the immaterial, spiritual realm.

You can find these and other stories under "Paranormal" in my blog index.