My Politics

“Jesus sure didn’t have much to say about the right to bear arms, but he had a heck of a lot to say about loving our enemies.”

Shane Claiborne wrote this in a blog post in February 2010. I don’t agree with all of Shane’s doctrine, but for some reason this line has replayed in my mind a million times since reading it for the first time.

I don’t talk or write much about my political affiliation—mostly because I have yet to find one I totally agree with. I do believe citizens are responsible to play their part, but honestly I’m very sick of the whole political spectrum. And I’m sad at how many Christians are busy toeing party lines.

I hate how many Christians are skewing Christian doctrine with Republican viewpoints. I’m tired of Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity being listened to, read, studied more than the teachings of Jesus Christ.

I’m tired of so many Christians continually pushing that America be a Christian nation. There is nothing in the Bible that tells us to take over our government and force our leaders to preach our doctrine. Christians want that because it would make our lives easier. Of course we want the freedom to worship as we choose, to preach the gospel, and avoid persecution. But I have a hard time finding anywhere in my Bible that says Christians should experience the ease of living in a nation that preaches their doctrine. I realize we use the guise of “If America were really a Christian nation, a whole lot more citizens would become Christians.” We’re shirking our own responsibility of preaching onto the government. 

If all these righteous Christians would just preach to their neighbors and friends, then we would see a whole lot more citizens becoming Christians. But we don’t want that responsibility. We might get laughed at. Maybe even persecuted a little. It’s a whole lot easier to be a Republican than a Christian.

The New Testament was written under some of the worst leaders EVER.  Caligula—demanded deity status; Claudius—expelled the Jews from Rome; Nero—pretty much a bad guy all around; Vespasia—led in the siege of Jerusalem; Titus—destroyed the temple.

And yet Paul never wrote about how to turn Rome into a Christian nation. He talks a lot more about how to endure persecution and how to live a righteous and holy life within a bad government.

A little less Fox News and a little more Bible would do us all some good.

September 11--Then and Now

Amid the weekend’s memorials and remembrances of the ten-year anniversary of September 11, 2001, millions offered commentary about where they were that day and when and how they heard the news. I also heard reports that those who were pre-teens in middle school in 2001 are the ones who have experienced the greatest cultural change—these observations were made at the five-year anniversary as well. Those much younger than middle school couldn’t grasp the situation. Those much older had life experiences to help them cope.

I was 13 in 2001—eighth grade. Old enough to know and understand what was happening at the time. I have memories from before the attacks—the ease of airport security, not being patted down at professional sporting events, effortlessly traveling to and from Canada, not having a tub of Vaseline confiscated during a random purse search on my senior trip.

Ten years later, I’m a college graduate. America has been at war all of my teenage and adult life. My classmates—13 when the planes crashed—have served in Iraq and Afghanistan as Marines. We were kids during Desert Storm, but the War on Terror has always been our war.

It changed how we travel, our sense of safety, our country’s patriotism, and how we looked at Muslims. At 13, terrorism was a new word to me—one I hear almost daily now.

During this week of remembrance, I’ve read the articles about those who lost family members and friends on that day. I’ve tried to imagine what it would feel like if I had been in New York City, instead of Owatonna, Minnesota. And I’ve tried to be thankful.

While this tragedy has changed so much about how I grew up, it had very little personal impact on me. No one I knew died that day. We all lost our sense of safety and some freedom, but that’s nothing compared to losing a spouse or a child.

I’ve realized it doesn’t matter where I was when I found out the towers had been hit. What I was doing is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that I was not in the World Trade Center, in the Pentagon, or on one of those planes.

My story is not important. It’s only important that I never forget.

Grandma

I found out about my grandma’s death through a Google search.

It was a random, unrelated search—and yet there was her obituary. Geraldine A. Kosinski. At first, the name meant nothing to me. My mom’s maiden name is Willets, Geraldine remarried, she lives in Florida, and I have never met her.

That’s why it was such a strange feeling, knowing my grandma had died. I was reading what her loved ones decided to write about her, their commentary on her life. A part of me felt appropriately sad—after all, without her, I wouldn’t be here. She raised my mom, shaped who she is, therefore shaping who I am.

But I couldn’t tell you if she has curly, white grandma hair, or if she’s one who tints her hair blue. Or if she kept dying it dark, dark brown, despite the wrinkles that give away her age. I don’t know if she bakes delicious cookies in a sunflower-themed kitchen, or if she’s more of a pie lady. Is her laugh a high-pitched jingle, or a low chuckle? Is her skin a deep bronze from the Florida sun she loves to lie out in on a bright orange beach towel?

I know she was ill, seriously ill. My mom visited her for a week in July 2010. I was pulling together the details of my wedding then. I had sent her an obligatory invitation, but didn’t expect a response. I sent her an invitation to my high school graduation, but it was returned to sender.

Her obituary wasn’t overly sad, but it felt very final. It wasn’t like I was planning a trip to see her, but this sealed that I would never be able to meet her. But if I had never Google searched for my parents’ marriage license, I would never have known of the loss. But it wasn’t my loss, really. What right did I have to claim to be sad—this obituary was really no different than the thousands published in newspapers on May 26, 2011 worldwide.

It reminded me of when my aunt Kay took me to the small cemetery in Trimont, MN. Several of our family members (her aunts, uncles, great aunts, etc.) are buried there. I remember seeing the first marker with WOHLENHAUS etched in the stone. Even though I hardly recognized the deceased’s name, it was the first grave marker I’d ever seen with my last name on it. And it affected me. Not in a way I could put words to, but in a very real way.

At the end of Geraldine A. Kosinski’s obituary, there was a “guestbook” section, where readers could leave sympathy comments. I read through the half dozen posted—wonderful words about an apparently wonderful woman.

Even though we’ve never met, I hope to carry on that legacy.

http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/gainesville/obituary.aspx?n=geraldine-a-kosinski&pid=151303431