Well, Maybe I Am an Anarchist

    Summer’s nearly gone and now we’re in those in-between days filled with those little black bugs that bite like fire and an endless stream of political mailers to be delivered. Changing leaves and falling rain. I came home from another day on the postal routes and sat on the porch to rest and to play with the little cat Leto who’s often waiting for me to return.

    The cat was clambering over my lap when Gunner pulled into the driveway in his noisy pickup truck. Leto bolted under the porch to hide.

    “That’s a new cat, isn’t it?” Gunner called out as he approached.

    “He’s relatively new,” I affirmed. The strays come and go as they please. We feed them and play with those that are friendly enough to approach. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Gunner. What’s it been? A month? A month and a half?”

    “Listen. I’m busy with other things, Carter. I’ve got a job and a family to raise. I can’t spend all my time correcting you and your pigheaded heresy.”

    “Porcinecephalous, eh?” I grinned.

    “Cut it out, Carter.” Gunner sat down on the porch next to me and continued. “You criticize Trump and his administration a lot for someone who calls himself a Christian.”

    “Yeah. I suppose I do. But I was critical of Biden, and Obama, and W. as well.”

    “Then it’s just as I thought,” Gunner laughed. “You won’t submit to any government. I remember that you told me once that you were kicked out of seminary. It’s that way with you. You are rebellious at heart. You refuse to submit to any legitimate authority.”

    I didn’t say anything in response to his challenge. I just made pss, pss, pss, noises for Leto under the porch.

    “Yeah,” Gunner smirked. “I knew it. You’re just another of those liberals who can’t respond when he’s confronted with the truth. You’ve got no viable way to respond. Just another…”

    I interrupted him just then. “No. I’m just trying to figure out which is applicable here. I don’t want to get down in the mud with you. I’ve had a long day and I was enjoying the cat. So the biblical instruction, ‘Do not answer a fool…’ seems to be the way to go.”

    “Typical,” Gunner snorted. “You should try reading that Bible you keep claiming to know. It actually says, ‘Answer a fool, lest he think himself wise.’”

    “Well,” I sighed. “If you insist.” I paused briefly, then said. “Do you think you’re the first to accuse me of that kind of thing? Do you think you’re the first to lay those charges at my feet? Be serious.”

    His smirk widened and he laughed again. “So you confess that you’re an anarchist.”

    “Well, maybe I am an anarchist. But it’s more of a Leo Tolstoy, Noam Chomsky, Peter Kropotkin kind of anarchy and not the Johnny Rotten, Sex Pistols kind of anarchy.”

    “Use whatever legitimization you think will cover your pride, but what you need is to learn to submit to authority. Like Joseph in Egypt. Like Paul in prison. Like Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. Look at them. They lived in an evil empire, but they didn’t rebel. They served in the Babylonian court. They didn’t raise a fist. They obeyed.”

    It was my turn to scoff. “You’re not the first to accuse me of being rebellious, but you are the first I’ve heard use Daniel and his friends as an example of obedience to empire. That’s a pretty wild take. Even for you, Gunner.”

    Leto poked his head out between the steps and looked at me. I reached out to stroke his head but he ducked back under.

    “Romans 13,” Gunner said.

    “What about Romans 13,” I asked.

    “Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God: the powers that be are ordained of God,” Gunner quoted. “Anyone who rebels against the government is rebelling against God. And you have a rebellious heart.”

    I could see that Leto wasn’t going to come out from under the porch so I looked around. I saw Gunner’s truck in the driveway. “Gunner. You’ve got a couple of flag decals on the windows of your truck. An American flag and a Confederate battle flag. I know you’re a patriotic kind of guy. We’ve talked about that. But the leaders of those nations began with rebellion, yeah? Especially the Confederates – the rebels. By your definition, they would have been rebelling against God.”

    “That was different,” he stammered.

    “Yeah. It probably was,” I said. “Tell me, Gunner. How did Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah – or Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, end up in the furnace? Which act of obedience led them to that? Or Daniel. Tell me how he ended up in the lion pit. I’m not sure what you’re reading, but the book of Daniel in my Bible is start to finish about resisting empire.”

    “That’s different,” he said again.

    “And one more. What’s on Thomas Jefferson’s seal? Rebellion to tyrants is what?"

    “Obedience to God.”

    I looked again for the cat, but he was either gone or hiding far under the porch. “Back to Romans 13,” I said. “The only thing I owe anyone is love. Love fulfills the law, even when tyrants rule. And love resists evil. If I’m an anarchist, I’m an anarchist because of love.”

    I could see that this line of argument hadn’t set well with Gunner. He looked at his watch and slapped his thighs. “I told you I was busy, Carter. I’ve gotta get home to have dinner with my family.” He stood and walked down the porch steps and back to his pickup truck.

    And I watched him go.

Previous Conversations: 

An Imaginary Conversation with a Real Troll (the first of the series) 
I Will Not Fight the Argument (the second)
Supermarket Wrestling (third conversation)
Do You Even Pray (the troll returns)
All Means All (A fifth conversation)
The Doctrine that Cannot Be Challenged (sixth conversation)
Toward Sodom - (a halfhearted seventh conversation)
Millions of Years of Death (the eighth conversation)
Truth with Untruth (the ninth conversation)
Bulls, Dogs, and Villains (the tenth conversation)
The Righteous Forsaken (the eleventh conversation)
A Sabbath Garden (conversation number twelve)
Doesn't Doctrine Mean Anything to You? (conversation thirteen)
Real Christian Men, Real Christian Marriage (conversation fourteen)
Allah Azeem (conversation fifteen) 

Folding Chairs and Fiery Thrones

    It was late January, on a gray and dying afternoon some years ago, when I found myself in front of the Ebenezer Baptist church building. I was tired and cold, looking for a place to warm up and rest my legs. I’m not sure what compelled me to try the door. I was surprised to find it unlocked.

    I went inside and called out, “Hello? Anyone here?”

    From somewhere in the back of the building, I heard a voice answer. “Back here. In the fellowship hall.” So, I followed the voice.

    In the fellowship hall I saw someone I assumed to be the janitor setting up rows of bright orange folding chairs. “I just came in to get warm,” I said. He nodded and placed another chair. From the kitchen, just off the fellowship hall, I could hear the gurgle of a coffee pot brewing.

    “What are you setting up for?”

    “It’s not for me to say, really. But you’re welcome to watch,” he said and then left the room.

    I found a spot along the back wall where I could stand, next to a bookshelf filled with hymnals and children’s books. I waited but nothing happened for several minutes. So I let myself into the kitchen, found a ceramic mug and poured myself a cup of coffee. Then I took my spot by the bookshelf to continue waiting.

    After a few more minutes the fluorescent lights overhead flickered and the coffee maker in the kitchen hissed. The door of the fellowship hall opened and the Senior Pastor entered. I knew it was the Senior Pastor because his framed photo was hanging on the wall next to the bookshelf. He had a dignified look – silver hair, manicured beard. He was dressed in a white seersucker suit. He sat down in one of the orange folding chairs at the front of the room. Then the doors opened again, and the church elders came in with folders, and papers, and clipboards, and notebooks. They assumed their seats and the church board meeting was called to order.

    I felt a hand on my shoulder and jumped. “Watch this,” said the janitor behind me. “You’ll like this.”

    From somewhere beyond the hall, I began to hear shouting. Curses. Vulgarities in a vaguely New York accent.

    “Old business,” one of the elders announced. “New business,” another said.

    “The same business,” the janitor whispered behind me.

    “I don’t know who you radical-left thugs are. Vermin. But you’re going to regret this. Nasty women. Losers. Scum. You’re animals. Animals. Animals!”

    The voice was dragged through the doors. and I saw his orange skin and flyaway hair. “Who is this?” I asked the janitor.

    “Oh, him? He’s nobody, really. Just one of a long line of monsters horning their way into history. They’re always turning up.”

    “What’s going to happen to him?” I asked.

    “Watch.”

    I turned back to the board meeting. The Senior Pastor said, “The mouth has spoken. Have his words been recorded?”

    “They have,” announced the body of elders.

    “So be it,” declared the Senior Pastor.

    “Amen,” intoned the body of elders.

    And just like that the orange-skinned vulgarian went up in flames.

    “What the hell is this?” I nearly shouted, turning back to the janitor.

    He led me over to a tripod stand with a series of Bible maps. “Look here,” he said and pulled down a map of Egypt. Then another of Babylon. And Persia. And Greece. And Rome. And. And. And. One map after another after another. “This is the way of beasts and empires. They receive a lease of life for a season and a time, but then…” And he tore away the successive maps and threw them to the floor.

    “Do you understand this?” he asked me.

    “I don’t think I do,” I said. “Not yet.”

    “Have you finished your coffee?” he asked. I nodded and he took the mug from my hands.

    I don’t remember leaving the fellowship hall, but I found myself once again standing in the sidewalk snow and slush in the fading January sun.

I Have Noticed and I Have Seen

    When wisdom has become the least of these (after a long period of low demand), heart and knowledge. Clean. Free. Clear. But nothing’s yours. And nothing is mine. Discretion and understanding have become a menace. Simple observation is not encouraged.

    What about us? Here where we live and breathe. Where we buy our groceries and go to church.

    We must be unoppresed – free to lift ourselves from every yoke. My head without, my soul still hungry. Goodness and all the day’s security. Dark-dwelling in the house of the Lord. The hungry, cast out. The naked, thrown down. I notice my own flesh too.

    When will we see the word as written?

    We are teachers without questions. We are leaders without strategy. A nation with a soul for greed, for power. We are investigators without a clue. We are travelers without a map. These are all variations of the same story. News without media. Politicians without honor. Is this the family you’ve always wanted?

    Do whatever you need to do, but keep in mind that I am not a theologian, not professionally. Neither am I a doctor, a priest, or psychologist. But I have seen the finger writing on the wall.

The Americhimera

    This is a first draft excerpt from my novel-in-progress - entitled Dispatches from an American Battlefield. It's a political satire, a theological critique, and a dystopian autofiction in a style blending William Burroughs' cut-up/fold in technique (with somewhat more coherence) and elements of PKD inspired paranoia, exploring existential / absurdist themes. Something like a broken, religious Vonnegut - but not quite. Part Charles Bukowski, part John Prine (both USPS letter carriers like the narrator). It's part pastoral reflection, part political pamphleteer. 

The Americhimera

I saw it in a dream – or a vision by night – but I saw it with my own true eyes. The four winds of heaven were stirring up the seas, and there it came before me, beside the river, a ram like a goat, that was a lion with eagle wings and serpent tail. The Americhimera. Pushing westward, northward, southward in its ever expanding manifest destiny. She went where she would. She did what she pleased and became strong. Strong but never great.

Rushing on her enemies. Ruled by rebellion. Paralyzed by elite luxury. Thus it is with the wicked. Subduing nations, turning them to dust with her sword. Unscathed on a path untravelled in time. Easy. Motion generating attention and reality. He who has ears to hear, let him hear – when you know you simply know.

And this beast was told, “Arise, devour the poor. Kill innocent people. Start many wars.”

And this she did.

The Sin of Empathy - America's Song

 

We are great and we are bold
we will pound you into sand
our legs our iron, our head is gold
the world is ours to command

We won't take no for an answer
we demand and we extort
and what they won't give to us
we'll just have to take by force

So it's down with mercy and out with love
stuff your feelings, we don't care
we're in charge now, that's how it is
you can complain but you won't dare

We are vain and we are blind 
God help us, but we are cruel
we've forgotten our fist love 
and rejected the golden rule

So it's down with mercy and out with love
kindness and compassion are for fools
in the empire of scorn we're building 
spite and pride are the guiding rules

Between a cliff and a burning fire
where the mob calls out for blood
when we call it the sin of empathy
you can't be surprised that we have none. 

The People of Babylon (If You Know What I Mean)

The people of Babylon (if you know what I mean) were gathered for the spectacle at the Duraplain stadium; it was a beautiful day, without a cloud in the sky.  Beer and popcorn venders roamed the crowds, going up and down upon the aisles to hawk their wares. The announcer addressed the crowd through the PA system, “Welcome loyal fans, and please greet with me the Babylon High School Marching Band and Honor Choir. When you hear the sound of the trumpet, and drums, and sackbut, and zither, and bagpipe, and all the musical ensemble with the choir, stand to your feet, remove your turbans and salute the symbol that your great leader has set before you.”

And when the band began to play the familiar dotted-eighth note, sixteenth note followed by three quarter notes and a half note melody of the hymn To Anacreon in Heaven, all the assembled people of Babylon (if you know what I mean) stood as one, doffed their turbans, and saluted the object of their religious worship. 

And when the final swelling tones of the hymn echoed into the distance, everyone replaced their turbans and solemnly uttered the ritual prayer, “Thank you for your service.”

Everyone but one. 

One jerk. One freak refused to stand, or to salute. This one piece of human trash refused to sing the anthem or to say the prayer. The people of Babylon (if you know what I mean) standing near him began to boo and to jeer. They hissed at him, threw rocks at him. “Go back to the shithole country you came from!” they shouted at him, and, “Burn in hell, you eunuch!”

Biblical Limericks: Susanna

Susanna was a woman curvy;
she was spied upon by two pervy
elders who were unjust
and inflamed with much lust-
they wanted sex; they had some nervy!

Daniel 13: 1 - 21

Who Is the Little Horn? A Note from Dr. Tarrec

My friend, Dr. Tarrec, did something very strange today.  He left his home, which he almost never does, to slip the following scrap of writing into my mailbox.

***

Who is the horn that is making war upon the saints?  Who is this horn sitting in a position of power, and why does he hate us?  He confuses himself with the whole, his opinion with the creed, his power with grace.  And he takes it out on those who surround him.  With enmity, hostility, and persecution.  And this, he has convinced himself, is God’s noble will. 

Like a beast with the smell of blood in his nose, the little horn demands attention, demands respect and salutes.  The little horn insists upon decorum and loyalty. He breathes out threats and ultimatums.  A pastor, a leader, a wolf.  A beast enjoying respect proportionate to his rank.  He has eyes – many of them, scattered across his domain.  But he is blind, as blind as any who will not see.  He has a mouth like a man, but he speaks like a worm.

“Halt!” he cries, “This far and no further!”  This ordained prince, this commissioned Machiavelli rules the winds.  But he cannot stop the progress of the saints.  He is absurd.  He waxes exceeding great, but he is a fool. 

He prospers. Yes.  He wins.  The saints are martyred, the heads are chopped.  But two more rise up behind. One saint speaks to another and to another.  How long shall this vision prevail?  Not long. How long? Not long.

Woodrow Wilson, AntiChrist

Today being the day that we all grumble about having to set our clocks forward an hour because of Daylight Saving Time, I thought it appropriate to share this fragment from the writings of my friend, Dr. Tarrec.

***

The number of the beast, says the prophecy, is the number of a man, and his number is Six hundred threescore and six (666).  This is very easily understood when it is remembered that the Hebrew and Greek systems of writing did not, at this time, have separate characters for numbers.  Their alphabets served double duty as both letters and numbers; each letter also had a numerical value.  Recall, that the Hebrew letter “Vav” has the numerical value of six.  Recall, also, that the English equivalent of “Vav” is the letter W.  Therefore WWW equals 666.  And as the number of the man is his name this is immediately recognized in WoodroW Wilson.  The 28^th President of the United States is the AntiChrist spoken of in the Holy Scriptures…

...and he shall “think to change times and laws.”  What laws and whose?  Not the laws of other earthly governments, though he attempted even this for nothing was beyond his vainglorious ambition, and it was nothing marvelous or strange for one power to change the laws of another.  No, not content with altering human laws of every kind, the Little Horn-that is, Woodrow Wilson-had power to change the very times and laws.  This, most audacious of all, refers to his introduction of the (so-called) Daylight Saving Time.  The world was his for a time, times and the dividing of times, moving the hours by his tyrannical decree. 

…John saw that one of the seven heads of this blasphemous beast rising up from the sea was wounded, as it were, to death.  What else is this, but the stroke suffered by President Wilson on October 2, 1919? The president was confined to bed for weeks, unable to meet with anyone.  His presidency was effectively over, dead.  And when pressed further we find that this fits with the predictions made by the prophet Zechariah, who wrote, “Woe to the worthless shepherd who leaves the flock! A sword shall be against his arm and against his right eye; His arm shall completely wither, and his right eye shall be totally blinded.” (Zechariah 11:17).  The stroke that, as it were, killed the seventh head of the beast, left President Wilson paralyzed on his left side, and blinded in his right eye.

…Do not be deceived! The League of Nations is the AntiChrist’s revived Roman Empire-the one world government, new world order at the end of the world.  And he will rule this evil empire from his throne at the pit of the world, Belgium.  …

Biblical Limericks: The Prophet Delivers

Habakkuk saw a bright angel who
said, “Go to Babylon’s what you’ll do.”
Snatching him by the hair,
carried him through the air
so he could take to Daniel a stew.

Daniel 14: 33 - 39

Biblical Limericks: Bel and the Dragon

Said the king, “Bel lives! See how he eats?”
Said Daniel, “He’s not, not in the least.”
When the trick was exposed,
the hidden door was closed
and the king killed all Bel’s lying priests.

They also worshipped a great big snake,
said the king, “You can’t claim this one’s fake.”
But without sword or stick
Daniel killed it, no trick -
he fed it tar: death by belly ache.

Bel and the Dragon 1: 1 - 27

Biblical Haiku: Daniel 7: 9 – 10

Thrones put into place,
the Ancient of Days arrives;
the books are opened.

Biblical Limericks: Daniel’s Apocalyptic Menagerie

First was a lion plucked of its wings
then came a bear told, “Eat many things!”
Third, a leopard to dread
with wings and four strange heads;
last was a beast with horns that were kings.

Daniel 7

Daniel Flagrantly Broke the Law

Our mid-week bible study has been working through the book of Daniel recently.  Today was chapter 6 – the one story that everyone thinks they know, but really don’t.  

It is the story of how jealous officials convinced King Darius (is it pronounced Dare-EE-us or Dar-EYE-us?) to issue an edict that no one should pray to anyone or any god other than Darius for the next 30 days, and of Daniel who, upon learning of the new law, promptly went to his upstairs room and flung open the windows so that everyone could see him praying to his God, and how he was subsequently thrown into and protected  in the lion’s pit.

Our conversation centered on how easy it would have been for Daniel to have avoided the whole issue altogether.  He could have prayed in secret.  He could have kept the windows closed.  He could have just not prayed for 30 days.  But no.  Daniel purposefully, willfully and with premeditation, broke the law.  Flagrantly broke the law.

The commentary I had close at hand had an especially striking quote from John Calvin for this passage:  “Earthly princes deprive themselves of all authority when they rise up against God, yea, they are unworthy to be counted amongst the company of men.  We ought rather to spit in their faces than to obey them when they …spoil God of his right.”[i]

It’s curious to me how the bible gets all twisted up and used to make Christians into “good little citizens” saluting the flag and pledging allegiance to this or that country.  When was the last time any of us spat into the face of our senators?  When was the last time we flagrantly broke the law in order to be true to God?

---

[i] Quoted in The New Interpreter’s Bible Vol VIII   Abingon Press, Nashville, TN 1996. page 95.

July Anomalies A – Z: Little Horn

After the lion’s wings have been removed,
and the bear has eaten his fill of flesh,
after the leopard has been given authority to rule
comes the beast with iron teeth

                and ten horns.

And then another horn, a little horn
uprooting the horns before it,
Out of the ruins of ancient Rome
out of the boiling seas of humanity
comes the corniculum of destiny.

Charlemagne tried and failed;
Napoleon dreamt of things beyond his reach,
Il Duce, Nixon, Putin,
pretenders all,

but now comes the one
who will make war against the saints
with climate based weaponry
and electromagnetic radiation,
with genetic bombs
and Toynbee’s rejection of national sovereignty.

From chaos and keratin will emerge the New World Order

This is part of July Anomalies A-Z, a creative writing exercise and not intended to be an altogether accurate picture of the creature described above. 

July Anomalies A- Z: The God of Fortresses

Of the King who did according to his will and magnified himself above every petty god and honored the God of Fortresses with much gold and silver, and who regardeth not the gaze and desire of women

A mighty fortress on pagan sands
physical forces holding spiritual and temporal sway
wielding the sword of power
flashing this way and that.

He shall do just as he will.
He will speak barbarisms and blasphemies.
He will wear the skulls of his enemies.
He will reawaken occulted mysteries long forgotten by his fathers.

His militant priests and clerical guardsmen
will march across the globe
on ley line energies,
and they shall wear upon their breasts
the emblem of their master.

And this is his device:
a stone tower on bend sinister.

This is part of July Anomalies A-Z, a creative writing exercise and not intended to be an altogether accurate picture of the creature described above.