Two Examples of Using What is Nearest to Bless Others

Two recent articles -- one in a daily newspaper, and the other in a magazine for aviation enthusiasts -- served as a good reminder to use what we have to do the Lord's work.

The first article featured a retired Navy physician, Anthony Martinez, who spends his days tending to the physical and spiritual needs of Washington, D. C.'s homeless. (To read this article, click here.)

The second article featured a Denver businessman, Jeff Puckett, who uses his helicopter -- dubbed "Prayer One" -- to get local Christian, Jewish and Muslim clergy; and local gang members into a place where they can begin to see the world from a different perspective. (To read this article, click here.)

These articles reminded me that we each have skills and abilities that the Lord can use to bless others. The shame of it is that we fail to be available; or we fail to be creative; or we devalue the worth of a gift shared with others in the Lord's name. (I am reminded of the account of Jesus' feeding of the multitude with a little boy's lunch, as recorded in John 6: 1 - 14, and in the other Gospels, too!)

Sometimes, what is nearest us is a possession, such as our checkbook. Sometimes, it is a tool we use in our work, as is the case for Jeff Puckett. Sometimes, it is a skill used in one setting that is transferable to another setting, as is the case with Anthony Martinez.

Today, consider what it is that you have nearest you. Then, consider how it can be used to bless others in the name of the Lord.

Torture: Were God in the Room. . .

Several years ago, while teaching "Ethics and Moral Reasoning" in the U. S. Naval Academy's mandatory sophomore-level course of the same name, I heard a recently-retired three-star admiral say that while he would welcome lawyers in a room where decisions about air strikes were being made; he would exclude chaplains.

Based on recent news reports, it seems the folks who were making decisions about the interrogations of suspected terrorists had the same idea as the admiral. (To read a New York Times newspaper article on the subject, click here.)

While acquiring legal, medical and psychological cover for interrogation methods that many -- if not most -- lawyers, physicians and mental health professionals consider both illegal and unethical; it seems the Bush administration, the U. S. Justice Department, and the Central Intelligence Agency were unwilling to consider the morality of how they "persuaded" our enemies to give-up information.

The admiral's comments were a candid admission that when God is in the room, people are compelled to behave themselves. 

I am not saying that a chaplain -- in any way, circumstance, or form -- is God. However, clergy generally represent a standard that is higher than what is merely legal, even if all clergy (and I am speaking from observation and personal experience) fall short of that standard in their life and in their vocation.

The 17th Century French priest St. Vincent de Paul reportedly wrote or said that a man in a hurry misses the things of God. Clearly, in the aftermath of September 11, 2001, we were a hurried and a fearful nation. And while it is good that our houses of worship, for a time, were filled with people seeking solace, guidance, and strength, there is now ample evidence that other Americans were inviting everyone but God into the situation room.

The admiral referenced above explained that with the chaplain came inconveniences.  For example, we might reason that there is acceptable risk in attacking terrorists who are in a building situated across the street from a school house -- unless our child is in the school house.  

When God is in the room, the captor becomes the one captured; the strong consider the position of the weak; and the means to an end are considered as seriously as the end.  At every level, the recognition of an authority greater than we reminds us that not everything that may be legal is right; and that just because we can do something, doesn't mean that we ought.

Piracy: The Devil's Hand is Tipped (Again)

Easter Sunday was a bad day for piracy.

With the rest of the world, I watched last week's events unfold 230 miles off the coast of Somalia in the Gulf of Aden.

Tuesday: A band of Somali pirates in a small boat hijacks the U. S.-flagged container ship MV Maersk Alabama. The crew resists; the ship's Master, Captain Richard Phillips (pictured), surrenders himself to the pirates as he orders his crew to a safe compartment in the ship. The pirates leave the ship in a life boat with Captain Phillips as a hostage.

Wednesday: The warship USS Bainbridge arrives on the scene. Negotiations begin to secure the release of Captain Phillips.

Thursday: Captain Phillips attempts an escape by jumping into the water, but is quickly recaptured.

Sunday: While under tow by USS Bainbridge, and in the fading daylight, it is determined that the pirates in the life boat are about to harm the captain. Three U. S. Navy sharpshooters positioned on Bainbridge's stern are ordered to shoot the pirates, which they do almost simultaneously. Three pirates are felled. The captain is rescued, unharmed.

A bad day for piracy, indeed.

Almost immediately, the usual collection of pundits and experts emerged to point out that the killing of the pirates would immediately transform what had been an ordered, purely commercial enterprise into something a lot more complicated -- and bloody.

Hold, for a moment, the compelling reasons for piracy: For nearly 30 years, Somalia has been a near-lawless nation; many of today's pirates were yesterday's fishermen -- before overfishing by Europeans and Asians made it nearly impossible for a Somali to make a living from the sea that didn't involve firearms and million-dollar ransoms; and the shipping industry was all to willing to play along as long as the cargo was safe and the insurance premiums didn't rise too sharply.

As before (see my blog from March 1, 2009), the devil's hand is tipped. The devil wants only to focus on the price of something; never on its value. So, it becomes okay to steal -- or even to be the victim of theft -- as long as it doesn't (pardon the metaphor) "rock the boat," or disturb the business model. Never mind that theft, kidnapping, false imprisonment, extortion, and bribery are always wrong -- and a cancer on society, commerce, government, and the human soul.

In the aftermath of Sunday's events, life in the sea lanes in and around the Horn of Africa may become more complicated for all mariners. Pirates may seek revenge on U. S. citizens. Other nations may attempt rescues as we did, with less rosy outcomes. But these are risks that must be taken for all who value some things -- such as freedom from fear and intimidation -- above its costs.

Easter Sunday -- which has its own narrative on the sacrifice of one for many; freedom from fear; and the elevation of value over price -- was, indeed, a bad day for piracy, in all of its forms. But it is a bright day for those who have seen the devil's hand (again).

"Resurrection" in the Dock

Okay. I will bite.

In the news of late is a story about a 22-year old mother -- Ria Ramkissoon -- who is charged with the murder by starvation of her toddler son. As twisted as it is that a mother would starve her own child, there's more: Ramkissoon has cut a plea bargain with prosecutors that calls for all charges against her to be dropped if, or when, her son Javon Thompson is resurrected from the dead. (Click here for CNN's account.)

There is a lot here on which to chew: The media's fascination with the tragic and the bizarre; the circumstances of the child's death; and the intellectually lazy manner in which complex subjects are disintegrated by reporters and their editors for easy consumption by the masses. And there is another subject that hovers and haunts this tragic situation: The plausibility of bodily resurrection.

In a post about this tragedy, blogger Gary Davis gives no quarter to the idea that the small cult to which Ramkissoon belonged is "Christian," or to the media's interest in resurrection without due consideration of the Resurrection. (Click here to read Davis' blog.)

If it is true that a sure bet is no bet at all, the Baltimore, Maryland prosecutors who accepted Ramkissoon's "resurrection" clause are not betting people, and their actions have put Resurrection in the dock.

Resurrection on trial is not a bad thing. Were it not for this intrusive reminder, most Americans might only think of God's most audacious act on the coming Good Friday and Easter Sunday -- which are yet more than a week away -- and not think of it again until the following year!

But there it is: The proposition that our life doesn't end with our bodily death. There it is: The possibility that as Jesus was resurrected from the dead, so will all who have lived be resurrected -- the faithful to life with God; and all others to an eternal existence apart from God. There it is: The wager of all wagers.

Unlike the Baltimore prosecutors, who have wagered without fear of loss; every person has a stake when the Resurrection in the dock. As the clock winds-down, and as we see many of our contemporaries pass from "labor to reward," we realize that, like it or not, we have skin in the game.