Three Days of Love and Hate
THREE DAYS OF LOVE AND HATE:
On the Friday after Thanksgiving, Cortnie and Eoghan and I were huddled in a mass of people at Pioneer Courthouse Square in Portland. We were smiling, singing “Silver Bells”, sipping hot chocolate from an old Starbucks thermos, and waiting for the Mayor (with the help of Santa Claus) to come and light our city’s Christmas Tree. At the same moment, perhaps down the street or far away, a group of FBI agents were arresting a young man whose religious beliefs had spawned violent intentions and near-deadly actions…
* * * * * *
“One of these days…we’ll see how pleasant and politically correct all those liberal voters are – when it’s their kids blood splattered all over the walls.” –pigstotheleft (comment on FOX NATION website, Nov. 28)
THIS IS THE STORY OF THREE DAYS:
1. The day I should’ve died from a terrorist attack.
2. The day I got censored by FOX News.
3. And the day I learned to rise above my hate.
THIS IS NOT A POLITICAL STATEMENT.
It’s not a paid advertisement for CNN, NPR, or some left-wing conspiracy group.1
1 [Although if I were to encourage you at all, I'd probably tell you to get a few sources...Why stop at one? Find sources that exist without the influence or support of the corporate lobby system and corporate underwriting: that is, funding given by a company or organization, in exchange for a mention of their product or service within the station's programming. (e.g. Democracy Now, Free Speech Radio News, Project Censored, etc.) The love of money is the root of all kinds of evil. And money is what pays the bills at every News station in America. Find out where that money comes from.]
Okay, so…maybe this is a political statement.
But since half the country is Republican, and indeed, I myself used to be a card-carrying member of that party (not a joke, my voter card was in my pocket everyday—not because I actually needed it that often, but because I was so proud of my political affiliations) and I was an avid viewer of The O’Reilly Factor on FOX News because it symbolized, for me, what was patriotic and true—fair and balanced—and the end of each show left me feeling keyed up and supercharged like I was on the tip of a spring about to release…
Because of those reasons, I don’t want anyone to think this story is about “How I Hate The Republican, Democrat, or any other Party.” (Nowadays I ”decline to state” my affiliation when registering to vote, independent and free!) This is quite clearly about so much more. More than the religions of Islam or Christianity. More than the religion of America: and the worship of Partisans and Patriots.
If you hold up—with a trustful eye of beauty and respect— the men who sit behind the cameras and microphones in news studios across America, then these words may offend you. I don’t often speak out on politics, because I like the friends I have—and friendships are often conditional, so long as you don’t rock the boat (and slandering your friends’ favorite news anchors will likely piss them off quicker than calling the Bible a book of fairy tales). But I feel as though I was mistreated by the so-called “Free-Press” establishment of our country—arguably, a group of moneymakers and fear mongers who control the airwaves and brainwaves of my country’s people, and who silenced my voice while giving wings to others. And after a month of silence about this: I’d just like to get it off my chest. (That is why this blog exists.)
CHRISTMASTIME IN THE CITY
On the Friday after Thanksgiving, Cortnie and Eoghan and I were huddled in a mass of people at Pioneer Courthouse Square in Portland. We were smiling, singing “Silver Bells”, sipping hot chocolate from an old Starbucks thermos, waiting for the Mayor (with the help of Santa Claus) to come and light our city’s Christmas Tree. At the same moment, perhaps down the street or far away, a group of FBI agents were arresting a young man whose religious beliefs had spawned violent intentions and near-deadly actions. He was 19 years old. He was young, he was foolish. He was full of religion and full of hate. And it seems he truly wanted to end all of our happiness that night with the press of a button. A bomb in a van parked nearby.
We left the square as though nothing had happened, because nothing had. The bomb was a fake—thanks be to God and the FBI—and we left skipping and singing and still smiling. We found out what happened behind the scenes the next day. Cortnie was definitely unnerved by the incident, the threat of such a painful and scary death for us, and for Eoghan. Smiles transformed into faces of horror and terror and death in the fraction of a second. I admit, that possibility would be frightening if I let myself dwell on it, and the risk comes with living in a metropolis (especially one so far from the watchful eyes in D.C. and those still turned to the skies near Ground Zero in New York) but then again, we can’t all live in the countryside and safer suburbs. We can’t put all our trust, our faith, in the guy in the old-model Ford sedan with a spotlight above his mirror and “SECURITY” painted on the driver’s side door, or our gated community’s Neighborhood Watch program, or our many responsible insurance policies, or our security cameras, or our political representative elect who is going to change everything into the way I want it to be—the way it should be.
When I got home Saturday night, I googled a few news stories reporting what happened the night before at the square. Again on Sunday, I checked for more updates about the story. The first article I read was about a fire that broke out at the Islamic Center occasionally attended by the would-be bomber. An arsonist had apparently set fire to the mosque during the night, destroying part of the interior. Pitiful, I thought. What simple-minded, fanatical—perhaps even “conservative Christian”—thought this was somehow justifiable…to seek righteous revenge by burning down another man’s church? I’m sure it was easier for them—believing they were mere Muslims, and therefore devoted to a false and dangerous lie.
My thoughts were none too happy at this point.
Displeased by the actions of the arsonist—my statesman, my neighbor (and probably someone holding to the same faith as myself)—I clicked the BACK button in search for better news. As I scrolled down the webpage, I noticed a story titled “Portland Mayor Goes PC Over Terror Suspect”. Interesting, I thought. And Strange. Why would someone try to be politically correct about such a blessed thing as not blowing up last night? He was there too—he would have died with us all. Why would the mayor have to be PC about not dying? I wondered. And why would anyone make the story about political stratagem, instead of simply reporting the happy fact that the Mayor didn’t himself perish along with many joyfully gay folk in his city. Oh, I know, I remembered. ‘Cause he’s gay, that’s why.
As I clicked the link to the story, a twinge of chagrin shot through my fingertips. When I noticed the FOX NATION logo in the upper left corner of the screen, I sucked in a painful hiss through my teeth. Ah, I can see where this is going…
LINE AFTER LINE
The article itself said nothing really accusatory. It was only four sentences. Nothing revealing, that I noticed. But it was the title of the article, I believe, and the remark about political-correctness that caused such a stir. Maybe I should’ve watched my old buddy Hannity today, I thought. Then I’d be as riled up as these guys. Whatever it was, a long list of condemning thoughts and opinions had formed below the writer’s story. Line after line of bitterness and hatred. Accusation after accusation, spoken as truth. Not fair. Not balanced. A din of mockery and self-love. Digital high fives dished out between conservative comrades.
I’d heard it all before—the biased rhetoric and name-calling that exists between outspoken members of those two Sacred Parties. I’d heard my own beliefs slandered from both sides a hundred times before. I’ve been mocked for loving Jesus. I’ve been hounded for loving gays. I’ve been placated as a conservative and a liberal in the same day, not because I’m a political scenester or because I lack personal conviction. Instead, it’s those convictions that so often lead me to stand in a new place, in a new way—a place that exists in the divide between political opinions. In the cavernous void between hate and love, and love and hate. I’d heard it all before, but never in such concentration as here on this webpage.
My conservative brothers, armed to the teeth, spat their recited songs of disgust for the “liberal oasis” of Portland, Oregon. Terror-givers and freedom-takers. Gay-lovers and Jesus-haters. Democracy naysayers, and communist traitors. I searched for some kind of sound reasoning and gentle opinion and found any that existed to be covered thick beneath layers of filthy muck. Fueled by hatred. Justified by a belief in a god of Hatred, and the worship of men. Think I’m being too harsh?
You can read it for yourself, uncensored:
REGARDING PORTLAND’S CHRISTMAS TREE: “holiday, solstice tree for the libtards.” “Pagan Gay STDs Entitlement tree would probably be better”
MOHAMED OSMAN MOHAMUD (the bombing suspect), and ISLAM: “A radical Muzzie. Named Mohammed. Attempts terrorist act in US.= I’m a racist profiler.” “These sorts of attempts are being made predominantly by certain sorts of people.” “You mean satan worshippers of the Death Cult of ISSSLLLAAAMMMM”, “If I was the mayor, I would say “Put that #$%$^er in jail for life” in no uncertain terms : – )”
MAYOR SAM ADAMS: “Another lunatic running the asylum.” “More like pedophile b+tt monkey”, “For a politician to go PC could border on treason or aiding the enemy.” “a traitorus bad guy”, “you dont appreciate being protected. Live in your rose colored world”, “a liberal wussie.” “The Dufus Mayor”, “[Sam Adams] would calm his Jihadist rage with a nice soothing rectal inspection”, “They probably didn’t tell the Mayor Sam Adams for fear word would get back to the terrorists……”, “Did they find this guy during a pat down at the airport?”, “More than likely he crossed the border from Mexico”, “Knowing liberal states like Oregon, the mayor would have been out there blabbing.” “Enough of the political correct c r a p! Close the darn boarder and start profiling, or a lot of innocent of American’s are going to be killed.” “ANOTHER spineless politician more worried about his political career than the job he was elected to do and the people he SERVES.” “All I can say is that these leaders are not true leaders. Anyone that has served a month in the military would know this.” “A m0ron standing on a pile of sh!t. My sympathies to those who have to live in Portland!” “The reason he was not told ahead of time is because he would have warned the Somali of the FBI sting operation against him, The POS.”
PORTLAND and LIBERALISM: “Liberal Toilet” “you liberal pricks need to shed that pc bullsh|t.” “Sanctuary Cities Explode Nicely” “can’t be forcing that Christian stuff on those intolerant liberals.” “The liberal bastion of Portland….celebrating the lighting of a Christmas tree……? I do believe that is a contradiction of terms.” “Whatever. Eventually liberals will eat what they sow. Look at NYC for Pete’s sake…I say ‘Go for it, eat it raw.’“ “Maybe it was not muslem nuts may be it was left wing nuts,after all it is a chritsmas tree lighting and it is Portland.Just saying…..”, “The disappointing reality of it is that they don’t possess the consciencous capacity to percieve it in that manner.” “Liberalism is a mental illness that destroys anything it comes in contact with without reservation”, “Progressives are extremely naive..they will help load the gun that ki//s them.” “Naivete has nothing to do with it. The Progressives WANT to exploit the tension between religious groups. They WANT us to k i l l each other off.” “I am afraid that Progressives will never understand the world around them. That is what makes them so dangerous….to the rest of us.” “I wonder how some of them are feeling today? He took a little shine off the bubble they live in, didn’t he?” “Portland welcomes all illegals and terrorist. This is a perfect example of what happens when complacency takes over.” “The problem is Portland is full of old burnt out hippies” “Typical Portland response. Use a Somali mu slim terrorist attack as an occasion to trash European Americans.” “one day our luck will run out! Then how are the PC LIBS going to defend theit STUPIDNESS???” “Liberal bleeding hearts”, “One of these days they aren’t gonna get caught until post facto. Then we’ll see how pleasant and politically correct all those liberal voters are – when it’s their kids blood splattered all over the walls.” “If it weren’t so serious it would be funny watching the PC CROWD get their thongs in knots.” “If it wasn’t for the FBI another Islamic-Fascist that doesn’t care that you’re bleeding heart liberals, as a matter of fact they prefer it that way, would have succeeded in a terrorist attack. They know you’ll just stand there and take, hoping that holding hands and singing Kum-Bi-Ya will solve everything.”
OH, AND POSSIBLY MY FAVORITE:
Two liberal Portland Oregan voters rapping before they vote.
Dude #1 “dude who ya gonna vote for?”
Dude#2 ” I dunno dude, ther is this Conservative dude named George Washington but ain’t never heard of the dude.”
Dude#1 ” me neither, Hey wait there is this liberal dude named Sam Adams…anyone named after a beer gets my vote ”
Dude#2 “right on…duh I meant left on bro, lets go vote and then go get some sam adams beer” do you think he will give us a discount if we tell him we voted for him?
Dude#1 ” its worth a try that is how I got my food stamps and welfare checks”
Reading these words makes me feel disgusted. With myself—in all my dirty, enslaved, human flaws and evil intent. With my countrymen. With all the parties. All the nonsense.
CENSORED: WOW, THAT HURT MY FEELINGS…
I wrote a short comment to add to the rest. A few quick lines inspired by words from the Bible, including a few from Jesus and the Apostle Paul (it seemed like a safe idea considering it was FOX, and they’re all Catholics and conservative Christians there, right?). I added a few words from Ghandi. Just to give it some balance. I put quotations around their words and kept my own thoughts brief. I made mention of the vengeful mosque burning that took place earlier that morning, of which I disapproved. When I clicked the button to submit my comment, I was given a warning that my comment would be reviewed by a “moderator” before it could be posted publicly. So I waited.
And I waited. A guy named “fullmetalbasket” commented about Portland, saying “Sanctuary Cities Explode Nicely.”
Well, that wasn’t fair, or balanced—it wasn’t even nice. Actually, I’m quite happy they do not! I thought.
And I waited some more. A guy named “brb39” remarked how Portland’s gay mayor would calm the Bomb suspect’s Jihadist rage with “a nice soothing rectal inspection.”
Well, if he was allowed to post that, then I’m sure nothing will prevent my comment from posting, eventually. So I just kept on waiting.
Then I wondered. Should I not have said anything, you know…religious? I mean, the freedoms of Speech and Assembly kind of go hand-in-hand. And the right column of the website did state “ALL OPINIONS WELCOME.” And below that it read, “The Fox Nation is for those opposed to intolerance, excessive government control of our lives, and attempts to monopolize opinion or suppress freedom of thought, expression, and worship.” So, on those grounds I should be fine, right? Freedom of thought, expression, worship…
I knew religion had nothing to do with my now apparent disqualification when I noticed a new post. This time, someone copied a few quotes from Jihad Watch.org. Their quote had all kinds of references to the Qur’an—of course their’s tried to prove the Qur’an’s encouragement of terrorism. (Whether or not Terrorism is on the heart of every Muslim, is an argument I don’t wish to wage at this time—it’s not the point I’m trying to make.) To the contrary, my quotes from the Bible simply tried to link a few of our scriptures’ various messages of “peace, over vengeance”. Is that what got my comment thrown out? I now wondered. (How can a man quote the Qur’an in order to prove its hostility toward Americans, but I can’t quote the Bible in order to prove its message of peace to all mankind? Not even at Christmastime. Was my message found to be too unpatriotic? Lacking the appropriate war rhetoric?) Whatever the case, the longer I stared, the more I became sure that my message would never be heard—except by the moderator, of course.
Line after line of hate continues to this very day. In our workplaces, in our classrooms, in our Sunday school rooms, in our social get-togethers. In our hearts. On our tongues—line after line of hatred. Filled to the brim. Overflowing—until somebody burns the mosque to the ground.
CALLING LOVE, HATE
Lately, I’ve been reading a book called “A Requiem For Love” by Calvin Miller. It was a Christmas gift for Cortnie, but I stayed up late one night and finished reading it. (I highly recommend his works for anybody who wishes to shed new light and gain fresh context for those ancient biblical texts.) In Requiem, Miller’s fictional version of the Garden of Eden—you know, the story about Adam and Eve and a few bad apples—he describes the birth of pure and perfect love shared between a couple and the Spirit that created them. The setting for this story, as in the Hebrew Bible, is a fertile untouched garden—still void of evil, immorality, nakedness, and so far, loneliness. Pure love—in a pure garden paradise. The couple spends their first days in all the passion and joy of new love. They run through the forest, they lie naked in the fields. They experience a wondrous unfettered relationship with eachother and their Maker—fully devoted: in love. But the Father-Spirit gives them the gift of free-choice, and soon they become bored with the perfect step of their existence and their devotion to the only God they’ve ever known. For the first time in their short and perfect lives, they long for more knowledge and the freedom to choose for themselves—what is right and what is wrong.
Now enters the “Earth-hater,” the serpentine creature known as Slithe, who fills the young couple with fantasies of a new life beyond the walls of paradise, where Right and Wrong exist at their choosing. He entices them to leave their garden home (and the Creator who inhabits it, whom they worship with every thought and every breath) for the sands of the desert beyond—where no trees block the view of the warm sun by day or the beautiful moon by night. Slithe often visits Regina (Eve’s character), who is full of doubt and curiosity—lacking faith despite her daily experiences with her loving Maker. “There is power, Regina, in the things that I can teach you. For evil can be fair as love,” Slithe seduces her. All she needed to do for the serpent to grant her this new enhanced existence—a life full of freedom and knowledge—was to utter a few, short, traitorous words…
…to call love, “hate.”
Needless to say, Regina forsakes her first two loves—the man, and the Spirit that fathered her. In her lust and ambition, she denounces their love—gladly choosing its opposite. Miller continues that, “The greatest sin is calling love, hate. The second greatest sin in calling servanthood, ambition. The list need go no further. There are no other sins of consequence.” Those were the first sins ever committed, and they opened the way for the same evil and hate that surrounds us to this day. There in that garden at the beginning of time, we exchanged a perfect love for a chance at freedom. For a chance at knowledge, outside of a world that only knew what was Right—and what was Love. And we’ve been making a mess of things ever since. To believe otherwise, is to believe a deceptive lie.
We need to return to our first understanding. We need to return to the God who was with us at our first breath, who shaped us out of earthen clay. We need to remember the distant dream of His first intentions, there in that garden. When we experienced His presence as often as the sunrise, and his words filled our ears instead of the pages of fairy tales. No boundaries to cross—trapped inside his gates. Still free to choose, but knowing of only one choice.
As the sun rises now, and we wake from our garden bed of leaves and earth, with our mate at our side and our God calling us from beyond the trees, we need to find release from the chains that imprison our hearts and create slaves from our passions. That rob us of the divine gift given on that day long ago, when we walked with our Maker and watched his plans birthed before us. Now as we wake, we must sing a song: an overture of life and a requiem for hate.
We need to call it for what it is. We need to call love, love.
No more giving in to anything less than perfection. Perfect and pure. No longer forsaking those divine gifts we’ve always carried but never used. As we shake the dust from our hearts, trying them on as for the first time, may we hear distant whispers from the garden of our birth. Echoes of laughter. That remind us of our Maker. The face that stares back at us from the pool. The image of Love. The spirit, our Father. May we see his story etched through time. May we stand, and follow.
BLEEDING HEARTS
One final thought.
Now, whenever someone calls me a “bleeding heart Liberal,” a funny smile covers my face and a sense of peace fills my chest. Not so long after the story of that Garden and the couple who failed the wishes of their Maker, that same Spirit who was their Father plotted a grand scheme to restore that broken relationship for all time. His son, was born on earth in flesh and bone. Worshiped by shepherds and Kings. Hunted by evil Empires. Healer, lover, teacher. Friend to evil and undeserved men. Sharing his meals with tax collectors and money launderers (not unlike our politicians and business elite). Mentoring adulterers and all kinds of sex-crazed individuals (gay city mayors, not excluded). When hungry people came looking for the eternal truths he spoke of, he fed them with bread for their stomachs—and bread for their hearts. He showed compassion to all. All, except the religious elite—and the businessmen who made money behind the temple doors (not unlike those who turn a profit from the religious customs and fears of the American people). He warned us of men who would come in his name, proclaiming truths while deceiving us with lies. Men who would once again call His love, hate—denying the example he lived, which would remain unmatched through the ages. Making a mockery of his truth, while forgetting the very words he spoke.
The grand scheme, led the Earth-maker’s Son to a death at the hands of the Empire’s army and an embittered and occupied people. Even as they drove metal stakes through his hands and feet—Jesus loved them all. Even as the tax collectors, homosexuals and priests forgot of his love and began mocking him as he hung there in that sky—Jesus asked his Father to forgive them. And as his last breath failed him, and his spirit stole from its earthly body—my savior’s heart bled.
Two-thousand years later, across the planet, in every culture—we are the hands and feet of that dream.
Bleeding hearts, poured out. Overflowing—
Living and loving as he showed us.
“Father, release our hearts of hatred. And remind us of your touch.”
