Ends and Means

Reading the Sermon on the Mount these days will make the synapses in your brain sizzle if you let it. I tried reading it again and got stuck on the passages contained in Chapter 7, verses 1-6 of the Gospel of Matthew. I’ve mentioned it before, but this time it stuck to me like some sort of theological super-glue.

Consider the part about judging others. Oh boy. We might call it the “Anti-Facebook” gospel. Let’s look at the section in its entirety.

7 Judge not, that ye be not judged.

2 For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.

3 And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?

4 Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye?

5 Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.

6 Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you. 

I present this in the KJV in honor of the FB poster who said she only read her Bible in the original English.

Some (I won’t call them scholars as most, like me, aren’t’) say he is laying a can of “whup-ass” (I do couch my analysis in strictest of scholarly styles, however,) on the scribes and Pharisees. I tend to see them as “deacons on steroids” so to speak. But he seems to broaden his rebuke to all his listeners and the first verses must make us think. Is he telling us not to judge the actions of the unholy? Is he telling us not eschew the actions of the unholy? Is he actually implying that we might actually use the actions of the unholy for our own purposes?

I think not. Think whatever you wish. The First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution that allows us that religious privilege—though under severe attack—still stood “by the dawn’s early light” this morning. I think, getting back to the point, that it is the act of judging those whom we decide are sinners, that galls him.

My Sainted Mother used to paraphrase it as “Sweep around your own door first.”

In a secular example, it’s like some man with a pot belly that hangs over his belt like dough spilling from a skillet referring, in public, to someone else as “fat,”

Some refer to Matthew 7:1-6 as the “most misunderstood portions of scripture.” Again, think what you wish, but, in my experience, this statement (about scripture) almost always leads to a justification of perfidy on the part of the writer. Just ask Joyce Meyer about rich people. I don’t think it is my role to judge what the Galilean wrote. I’m not a “taken out of context” person. I think it is my role to try and figure out what the hell he was talking about.

So I must ask the question, could we take the opening verses of today’s section too far? I ask this after reading and watching about the so-called “Family,” based in Washington D.C. and formerly controlled by a shadowy figure named Doug Coe who seemed bent on adding the coup de grâce to that fragile First Amendment I mentioned earlier.’

This secret organization avowedly believes that it is fine to use “political monsters” to promote their brand of religion, which is a severe, right-wing, fundamentalist worship of their concept of Jesus and to influence both our national, and international, politics. This has brought them into partnerships with political monsters such as Muammar Mohammed Abu Minyar Gaddafi and others. “The more horrible the monster, the more useful he is to us,” is their mantra.

Don’t you think that’s carrying this “Do not judge” thing a little too far? I do. That will bring us next to a metaphor I love, and that’s the “pearls before swine” part. Stay tuned.

Running buddies and old friends ...

I’ve told about the decision my neighbor and I made once to run a marathon. We made the decision in the fall of 1979 and were training in serious by the end of the year. We had picked up some compadres since then. One was the late John Woodruff, who lived six or seven blocks from us. Another was the late Robert Johnston who lived, for a while, across Broadway. The others are still living as far as I know, and probably wouldn’t want their association with me made public.

John Woodruff figured largely into this marathon thing. He wasn’t a fast runner, so when we ran in a pack (yeah, kind of like a wolf pack), the others would sometimes take off at a faster pace and leave the two of us. I guess the others felt that as long as I was with John, that qualified as adult supervision.

John was a journalist. He worked for the Arkansas Gazette, the “oldest newspaper west of the Mississippi.” He covered North Little Rock, the politics and all. This was a plum assignment back then for the city was known for its “rip-roaring” approach to life, as exemplified by its legendary mayor Casey Layman. He was, in fact, too colorful to write about in a family-oriented blog. Let’s just leave it at that.

Anyway, John and I put in some miles together and shared an unforgettable experience I’ll cover later. For now, John was a glorious companion. He talked slowly, choosing his words with care, as you might expect from one who had spent years writing sentences that would be dissected and attacked from the nastiest of editors to the ACLU. He had this habit of turning his head slowly and looking at you when he wanted to say something important. And John didn't waste much time on unimportant things.

One of the most touching stories he told, as we were on a long run together, involved journalism as they practiced it in the old days. He told me how he would return from a City Council meeting, and pound out a piece in time for the next day's paper. Having finished his work day, he would sit in the press room with other reporters and relax. Then he told how, after some time had passed, the old Gazette Building would start to rumble and shake.

It was the presses starting up and announcing that the First Amendment was secure for another day.

John died of cancer a few years ago. Maybe it's good that he didn’t live to see a day when that precious piece of our Constitution is in such danger. I miss the comfort that people like John Woodruff bring to this world.

You don't meet many like
John in this short life.