I too am a bag-lady

The "Order of Service" indicated that it was time for the sermon. It had a title: "What is this Love Business Anyway?"

And then I could hear it. The squeak of something in stress.

She hobbled up the center aisle, pulling a cart stuffed with her precious stuff. Made it to the front, turned around. So very, very nervous. Subconsciously waving her garish white gloves. And that gawd-awful hat. And that ill-fitting bleached-out-patterned so-50-ish dress.

She said how nervous she was, afraid to come here. That she had seen some of the people here at the church, at the Shelter, serving meals, and at the Food Bank.

Told about how they had given her a Bible at the Shelter. That she had read some of the stories. But wondered what they had to do with her.

In particular there was one story, about this guy named Cornelius. And a sheet, and a bunch of banned animals, and he was told to eat them! To violate the rule! What was that supposed to mean to her?

Then she told of reading how Peter responded to an incident of the Holy Spirit being poured out on the "Other," the "Outsider Gentiles," how he wanted to baptize those heathen gentiles. And there was no objection, so he did it! He did it! Baptized those heathens, without objection. Cause everybody was too stunned to object.

She interrupted herself, worried about her things she had sequestered around the community, would they be safe while she was here, in a church?

And how she had read that Jesus said "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you."

She got real nervous. Visibly worried again about her stuff, like homeless people learn to do.

But sometimes, and she had no hesitation in saying it, she felt some of the church people at the Shelter, and at the Food Bank were a little uppity.

Yes. A little uppity.

And now, she said she really had to go.

Said it felt good . . . when she was loved.

And muttered something else under her breath, as she hobbled her way back down the center aisle.


And of course, the bag-lady was one of the ministers. But it was a lesson that leaves an impression.

For a religious service to shuck the formal, the ritualistic, the predictable . . . and to simply jar one with the totally unexpected and out-of-character . . . that is a service that is truly religious.

But "What is This Love Business Anyway?"

Yeah! It is real easy to sit in a church's pew and feel real uppity about this business of love! For isn't sanctimony one of the spiritual gifts?

And later in the afternoon, I found this.

http://men.style.com/gq/features/landing?id=content_9217

A reference to "Onward, Christian Soldiers," to an article in GC about how Rumsfeld spun Bush with the forceful, artistic, graphic cover sheets depicting Hebrew Bible quotations, super-imposed on pictures of massive, and deadly weapons of war . . . cover sheets to the Top Secret daily briefings by the SecDef to the POTUS at the time of the launch of the invasion into Iraq in 2003.

Reading those quotations, from the Book of Joshua . . . it hit me between the eyes.

The Rules of Sacral War are recorded in Deuteronomy 20.

My government launched a sacral war. A type of warfare of the ancient Near East antiquities.

Like other nations of the ancient Near East, ancient Israel had a sacral ideology of war. The Lord himself is described as a warrior and "the Lord strong and mighty ... in battle" (Psalm 24:8): "The Lord is a warrior; the Lord is his name" (Exodus 15:3; see Isaiah 42:13).7 The wars that Israel fought were "the battles of the Lord" (1 Samuel 18:17); indeed, among the lost books of ancient Israel is "the Book of the Wars of the Lord" (Numbers 21:14).8 The enemies of Israel were the enemies of the Lord (see Judges 5:31; 1 Samuel 30:26), and the Lord assisted Israel in battle (see Joshua 10:11; 24:12; 1 Samuel 17:45). The Lord was consulted (see Judges 20:23, 28; 1 Samuel 14:37) and sacrifices were offered (see 1 Samuel 7:9; 13:9, 12) before hostilities were initiated. When Israel went to war, its army was called "the people of the Lord," "the people of God" (Judges 20:2), "the armies of the living God" (1 Samuel 17:26), or "the Lord's divisions."9 http://maxwellinstitute.byu.edu/publications/books/?bookid=66&chapid=725

And a part of those Deuteronomic (and Near East) war rules was "the ban." The enemy, the people, the spoils, were considered to belong to the deity and forbidden for ordinary use. In ancient Near-Eastern culture, the ban was considered to be a sacrifice to deity, and so therefore entire populations exterminated. Gone. Every living thing. Sacrificed.

My country, so proudly hailed by so many as "This Christian Nation," with a military infested with a "Christianist" ideology, had launched a "sacral-type war" on the hated "Other" . . . the Muslim world.

"Onward! Christian Soldiers!"

The earthly Commander-in-Chief, called "A Judge" in the Book of Judges, cheered on, by quotations espousing the blessing of the Divine-Warrior.

And the resulting annihilation of uncounted Muslim peoples.

And the acquisition of the spoils of uncountable deals of underground oil for multinational corporations.

And now the avalanche of revelations of the despicable and unconscionable acts of which this war was justified on the pretense of torture-induced evidence.

It sickens me to know that my government was an instigator in this.


And yes, the insight from the Queer Bible Commentary has given me reason to be even madder than hell about what those "Christianists" have done.

But don't get me going. For in many respects, I too am a bag-lady.

And I need to learn to love . . . even despicable, torture-apologist "Christianists!"

And I am sure that Jesus had to put-down a tax-cheat or two, and a smart-mouthed hoodlum or two, and the vicious gossip of a prostitute or two, and some rabble-rousers, muggers, thieves and thugs. You know, "that crowd" with which he hung around.

And admonish them that they too needed to learn to love . . . to love Pharisees . . . as despicable as they were.

This "Business of Love. Anyway."

I must admit. I do find it a hard business . . . at times.

I must accept that I too am a bag-lady.

The Refectory Manager