Sanuk D

I don't know what I'm doing here, I should be someplace else.

On March 24, 1980, Oscar Romero stood at the altar of a small chapel in a Salvadoran hospital.  He raised his arms to elevate the Host in one of the most solemn parts of the Eucharistic liturgy.  As the unleavened bread was being mystically transformed to the body of Christ, Romero, Archbishop of San Salvador, was shot in the back by government soldiers.  His blood mingled with the spilled wine on the white altar cloth.  Romero had been assassinated for speaking out against the brutal repression, torture and injustice of El Salvador’s government.  He was inspired by a growing movement in Latin America called “Liberation Theology.”

Romero, along with 8 Jesuits and many other priests and lay people, walked by faith into the sights of an oppressive regime’s guns despite the ambivalent attitude of the Catholic Church.  They have been an inspiration and challenge to me to consider how my life might serve in a small way to change the conditions of poverty.  So I was struck and disappointed to hear Richard Land, president of the Southern Baptist Convention’s Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission, on NPR this afternoon use the term “Liberation Theology” to broadly define what he understands to be the beliefs of those Christians in this country to whom he is opposed.  What bothers me is that I believe Dr. Land would ignore the history and tradition of this movement in order to re-coin the term as a code for “Religious Socialism.”  (Glenn Beck, at whose rally Dr. Land appeared, is very deliberate in making this leap.  That’s all I’m going to say about Glenn Beck.)

The most striking statement of Dr. Land’s interview was his statement, “I reject collective salvation as an oxymoron.”  What I find so remarkable is that Jesus, as a person steeped in the Judaic religious tradition, would not have ever entertained the idea that our salvation was anything but dependent on the life of our community.  Again and again Jesus gives examples through actions and stories that overturn the notion that individuals can save themselves by adherence to the law.  The law is the there to point us to a way in which we, together, can lift one another to salvation in love.  In the prayer of St. Francis, we also see a call to service at the cost of our own lives, that in dying to our own desires — perhaps even our own desire for salvation — that we are born into new life.

But what the hell do I know?  I’m neither a doctor nor the president of anything (although I did place a political ad in my High School yearbook: “Paid for by the Sanuk D for United States Senate Campaign.”  I still think that is cool.)  What I do know is that my condition is grim without other people and that my ability to connect with other people is grim without God.  If I am wrong, and Jehovah all mighty comes down and tells me that it is just me and him and none of you really matter, I’m asking to get off the train to Glory.  I’d rather be with you.

You know what, it is really none of my business.  Not that that has ever stopped me before, but in this case I thought it was the better part of valor to just leave the whole thing alone.  We are speaking, of course, about the Ground Zero Mosque (which is neither at Ground Zero nor is it really a mosque.)  When something gets to be the focus of so much emotion, I am not sure there is a way to have a rational discussion about what is going on.  So I keep my mouth shut.

Until they have to go and drag Bruce into it.  According to reports on NPR this morning, protesters rallying at the site yesterday were playing Toby Keith and Bruce Springsteen to show their patriotism.  In the background, “Born In the USA” was blaring through some speakers.  I find this not only a travesty of gigantic proportions in terms of the social justice record of Bruce Springsteen, I find it a dramatic misinterpretation of the song itself.

Basically, the theme of “Born in the USA” is that the country is ruining the life of a man who can’t understand why this is happening.  Despite it’s delivery in the recording made in 1982 and released in 1984, the chorus is less of a defiant cry than a wounded howl.  Besides which, Springsteen’s songs about 9/11, as heard on his album “The Rising” directly reference Islam and “The Prophet” as sources of redeeming strength.  So quit playing Bruce Springsteen songs at reactionary rallies.

And quit picking on the Muslims.  What they are trying to build is community.  The building is a community center with a pool and a basketball court.  It’s a YMMA.  Or maybe we are just calling these things Ys now.  I don’t know.  The point is that they want to provide a place for people in Lower Manhattan to come together to build up themselves and others physically and spiritually.  Their spiritual beliefs are based in Islam, the same religion of the 9/11 hijackers.  The YMCA has the same goals except with Christianity as it’s base.  Christianity was also the religion of Timothy McVeigh.  But he may have been agnostic.  Or a chemist.  Well, he was definitely an amateur chemist, but in terms of religion he was sometimes big on science.  But that’s a different discussion.  What I’m saying is that you can attach any religion to some pretty horrible people.  You can also trace most of them to some unbelievable transformations in communities.  The Muslims of Southern Manhattan are trying to do just that.  Protesters, please take your Toby Keith and go home.  Leave the Springsteen.

The Trail of the Suwaree has brought immigrants across the Blue Ridge since the earliest days of European’s presence on this content.  The earliest white people to settle on the western side of the Continental Divide did so in the Valley of Love and Delight.  Drovers, stage coaches, wagons, and trains all moved though the center of our humble vale.  As the automobile became preeminent, it’s path was laid through the valley flood, first as a highway and later an interstate.  That interstate stretch has been an object of special love over the last couple of years.

It was not over two years ago that a road which was in much need of resurfacing got resurfaced.  Those fancy machines that tear up the road and make it into new road did the job.  (How do they do that and why doesn’t it work to remake my back fat into biceps?)  Nifty.  Anyway, it was nice to have a new road, although it was a shame that right past where they stopped — like 300 feet away — was this huge pothole on a bridge.  No worries, they will get to that.  Maybe this past spring, when the stimulus money came all rolling out?  Maybe that would be a good time.

That’s the time that they decided to repave the repaved road.  Same deal, same machines.  Ok, maybe not the same machines but machines that look a lot like them and do the same thing. (But are no more effective on my back fat.)  Still, there is a hole in the road at the bridge.  So perhaps they will fill the hole now that they are putting down a new layer of asphalt over the newly resurfaced roads.  Presently the new asphalt ends where the two previous projects have ended: within sight of the hole.

Now I’m not saying that the stimulus was a bad idea.  Nor am I saying that I don’t like a nice smooth-riding road.  It does seem, however, that someone is taking advantage of the situation.  In addition to which, there are probably people being taken advantage of (tax payers not included, we’ll get to them in a sec.)  Forgive the assumption on which this is predicated, but I have my suspicions that the labor for these projects has not been hired in accordance to the laws which would give the workers adequate protection in terms of workplace safety and fair pay.  That is to say, they are possibly undocumented.

I am happy to have the road which carried so many previous immigrants into the Land of the Suwaree carry another group here as well.  I believe there should be a reform of our immigration laws which includes an amnesty for those who are already here.  What bothers me in the current instance is that, by doing work which has already been done, twice, our stimulus money seems wasted while problems (ie: a hole in the pavement) persist.  But only part of the point of  the stimulus was to get the hole in the pavement fixed.

The other half was to get the hole in the economy fixed.  The funds spent on the projects is, in theory, supposed to be turned around into the local economy.  Paying contractors for work based on the market rate for labor and then having them subvert the market by hiring undocumented workers means less of the money is going into hands that are likely to spend it.  The contractors keep more of the money and put it in the bank.  Not helpful.  In addition, if the remaining money is going into the hands of people who are — for good reason — afraid to interact with the broader community, this means less of the money is getting into the economy as a whole.  If this is the case, then the stimulus fails on both counts.

Again, I don’t oppose the stimulus in concept.  It’s just that the projects it’s being used for are wack.  In addition, the lack of comprehensive immigration reform makes the way the labor is paid for the job wack.  For the same reason, the way their wages get spent is wack.  (Plus my assumption about other people because of a few superficial observations is wack.)  I guess what I am saying here is that if the stimulus is not working, it’s because our system has become so wack that pouring in billions of dollars can’t help because it can’t get where it is supposed to go.  That’s wack.

Dexter Avenue Baptist Church

The Dexter Avenue Baptist Church is arguably the birthplace of the Civil Rights Movement.  At least it is the place where a new phase and leadership was ushered in when Martin Luther King, Jr. agreed to head the Montgomery Improvement Association, the organization which planned the Montgomery Bus Boycott.  This was Dr. King’s first church, and he had been there about a year.  When the boycott started, he was 26 years old.  At the age of 25, I stood in front of the church on a quiet Saturday afternoon and looked up the street at the Capitol of the State of Alabama.

The Alabama Capitol Building

It was on the portico of this building that Jefferson Davis took the oath of office for his first term as President of the Confederate States of America.  In a literal and legal sense, if not spiritual and political one, this is the site of the birth of the Confederacy.  Just around the corner is the well-preserved first White House of the South.  The capital was moved to Richmond after the secession of Virginia, so there was a White House there as well.  I do not know why the South chose to retain the practice of calling the Executive residence the White House.

The first southern White House

What I do know is that it is exceedingly strange to stand in sight of the nativity of two so radically different movements.  Both are loved and reviled by people that I simultaneously love and revile.  Living with paradox is a fact of life in the South, as is living in the middle of a complicated history.  Davis and the Confederates were absolutely wrong in defense of slavery but ironically right in their aspiration to preserve honor and dignity.  King and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference were actually upholding honor and dignity, but one has to wonder if there may have been ways to preserve more of our communities in the process.  The breath of the ghosts who ask these questions at the corner of South Decatur Street and Dexter Avenue blew through my spirit on that Saturday afternoon with gale force.

As the great Achilles sulked in his tent, his best friend Patrocolus was slaughtered by mighty Hector.  Fortunately Ajax was there for the clean-up, but it was still not pleasant for the Greeks.  Because of his great pride, Achilles lost a pal and we gained the concept of hubris.  Such a sin will not be counted against yours truly in regards to my evaluation of Bele Chere.  Loyal readers will no doubt recall that I was rather disparaging of recent festivals.  I still find areas worthy of disparagement, but I was also surprised this afternoon as I perambulated the streets of Altamont.

First of all, there was a lot of local fare.  The taste of Asheville section had plenty of local vendors from whom I would have been happy to buy lunch.  (I had already eaten an heirloom tomato sandwich on home made bread with a side of sweet potato and black bean salad.  Yes, I am willing to be known as “that guy.”)  There were also numerous local artists, artisans, and retailers out on the street.  The retailers that were not on the street were still accessible because there are a bit fewer booths.

The best part of the experience was how it felt closer to a weekend in Asheville, but with the streets closed.  It could be that it was Friday afternoon and things had not really gotten cranking.  It could be that it was Friday afternoon and nobody was seriously drunk.  In any event, check out accordian playing busker girl here.  She is just what I am talking about.