7 Packing Political Takes

One
Got through the living room and office yesterday just packing books. I’ll just repeat that in a quiet whisper–spent the whole day Just Packing Books. Ended up with probably fifty boxes (small thank goodness). Felt really sad as I stacked them all up that I haven’t read them all, or even most. That’s because 90% of them are Matt’s, and every time I wonder, however faintly, if maybe we could pare them down or weed one or two out, he curls his lips and narrows his eyes. Thing is, most of them are really good–a vast array of every kind of philosophical thought and historical moment.

Two
Finally beat my way through the office to my own small bookshelf. What kinds of books do I own? You know, because I’ve been to college and seminary and I’m all smart and stuff. I have one diminutive bookcase of paper backs–Dorothy Sayers, PG Wodehouse, Terry Pratchett, Gerald Durrell, and Adrian Plass. There are a few other odd books thrown in, but essentially, that’s it. I mean, these few books that I have are, of course, essential to own, and it’s not like I don’t read other things, but, well…if you want to gain in knowledge and understanding from human conversation, you’re going to want to talk to Matt.
Three
This morning I’m going to tackle the dreaded school room. Hope it really does only take me the morning. The school room has been my favorite place to sit in this house. It’s the only room that has direct sunlight for what feels like the whole day. It is bright and spacious and cheerful. It is here that I learned, sort of, what on earth I was doing with the children. It’s here that we all learned how to learn, how to wander away from the task at hand and come back to it, how to balance rigor with curiosity. Sort of. But you know what, I’m not going to think about it. I’m just going to shove stuff into boxes and Not Consider The Past.
Four
Obviously I was lying yesterday when I counted myself among the poor. It’s such a relative term. Compared to Donald Trump…oh never mind, I’m still rich when you count it that way.
This house that we’re moving into is so gracious and grand, I’m having a hard time understanding how someone like me can afford to have it. And how come, when we are richer as a society than we’ve ever been (theoretically) can’t we make houses of this kind of beauty any more?
This culture is cash rich and everything else poor. And now I’m house rich and cash poor. But still richer than I could have ever imagined.
Five
There isn’t any central air, though. And next week is going to be in the nineties. So we might splurge and buy, whatchamacallit, a fan. Everyone is going to be so complaining, but I am going to finally be comfortable indoors for the first time in a decade.
Six
I haven’t been exactly avoiding the traumatic news headlines of this week. I’ve read what I can when I’ve collapsed back, covered in dust, plunged into woe. Keep returning to that single line, from the 79 Prayer Book Prayers of the People:
For deliverance from all danger, violence, oppression, and degradation, let us pray to the Lord.
It’s the word “degradation” that keeps pricking at the back of my mind. I think it’s one of the things I fear most. I don’t fear death, so much, as the degrading power of evil. And that seems to be the greatest mark of our society writ large. We are more and more degraded–maligning the dignity of each person, one for another. So a young black person was killed, violently. And then the next day, there were riots and some police officers were killed. And the lines of battle are entrenched, and each matches the other with more anger–some of it more than justified.

But the thing about anger is that it eats away at the person. It degrades the mind and emotions. It is an oppressive heat that reaches out to destroy. Whereas forgiveness, which is not on the table for anyone anymore, breathes a painful but soothing balm of dignity into the soul. When you forgive someone you acknowledge the dignity of their humanity and yours, the seriousness of the offense, and you chose to bear all that suffering in your own person.

So Black Lives Matter, however justified they are, will not make any difference for the black community until they decide to walk the hard painful way of the cross. And white America, ever more entrenched in fear and anger, will likewise not be able to bridge this ever widening racial gulf until forgiveness and the cross are on the table. There is no political solution. We all have to repent and be saved, black and white together. Meanwhile, we fall headlong into all the things that single line prays against. So we are only left with the next one:
Lord have mercy.
Seven
On that tragic note, I must gather my wits and face down the school room. Go check out more Quick Takes, and here is another gorgeous picture of my ridiculously opulent house. Can’t believe I’m going to take all my stuff in there and junk it up. Can’t face the past or the future, so guess I’ll stick it here in the alarming present.