On the Mindless Menace of Violence

I just finished watching "Bobby". At the conclusion of the film, after Senetor Kennedy is shot, they play his entire speech, "On the Mindless Menace of Violence". It really makes me long for leaders, followers, and people everywhere to have greater visions like this again.



This is a time of shame and sorrow. It is not a day for politics. I have saved this one opportunity, my only event of today, to speak briefly to you about the mindless menace of violence in America which again stains our land and every one of our lives.

It is not the concern of any one race. The victims of the violence are black and white, rich and poor, young and old, famous and unknown. They are, most important of all, human beings whom other human beings loved and needed. No one - no matter where he lives or what he does - can be certain who will suffer from some senseless act of bloodshed. And yet it goes on and on and on in this country of ours.

Why? What has violence ever accomplished? What has it ever created? No martyr's cause has ever been stilled by an assassin's bullet.

No wrongs have ever been righted by riots and civil disorders. A sniper is only a coward, not a hero; and an uncontrolled, uncontrollable mob is only the voice of madness, not the voice of reason.

Whenever any American's life is taken by another American unnecessarily - whether it is done in the name of the law or in the defiance of the law, by one man or a gang, in cold blood or in passion, in an attack of violence or in response to violence - whenever we tear at the fabric of the life which another man has painfully and clumsily woven for himself and his children, the whole nation is degraded.

"Among free men," said Abraham Lincoln, "there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet; and those who take such appeal are sure to lose their cause and pay the costs."

Yet we seemingly tolerate a rising level of violence that ignores our common humanity and our claims to civilization alike. We calmly accept newspaper reports of civilian slaughter in far-off lands. We glorify killing on movie and television screens and call it entertainment. We make it easy for men of all shades of sanity to acquire whatever weapons and ammunition they desire.

Too often we honor swagger and bluster and wielders of force; too often we excuse those who are willing to build their own lives on the shattered dreams of others. Some Americans who preach non-violence abroad fail to practice it here at home. Some who accuse others of inciting riots have by their own conduct invited them.

Some look for scapegoats, others look for conspiracies, but this much is clear: violence breeds violence, repression brings retaliation, and only a cleansing of our whole society can remove this sickness from our soul.

For there is another kind of violence, slower but just as deadly destructive as the shot or the bomb in the night. This is the violence of institutions; indifference and inaction and slow decay. This is the violence that afflicts the poor, that poisons relations between men because their skin has different colors. This is the slow destruction of a child by hunger, and schools without books and homes without heat in the winter.

This is the breaking of a man's spirit by denying him the chance to stand as a father and as a man among other men. And this too afflicts us all.

I have not come here to propose a set of specific remedies nor is there a single set. For a broad and adequate outline we know what must be done. When you teach a man to hate and fear his brother, when you teach that he is a lesser man because of his color or his beliefs or the policies he pursues, when you teach that those who differ from you threaten your freedom or your job or your family, then you also learn to confront others not as fellow citizens but as enemies, to be met not with cooperation but with conquest; to be subjugated and mastered.

We learn, at the last, to look at our brothers as aliens, men with whom we share a city, but not a community; men bound to us in common dwelling, but not in common effort. We learn to share only a common fear, only a common desire to retreat from each other, only a common impulse to meet disagreement with force. For all this, there are no final answers.

Yet we know what we must do. It is to achieve true justice among our fellow citizens. The question is not what programs we should seek to enact. The question is whether we can find in our own midst and in our own hearts that leadership of humane purpose that will recognize the terrible truths of our existence.

We must admit the vanity of our false distinctions among men and learn to find our own advancement in the search for the advancement of others. We must admit in ourselves that our own children's future cannot be built on the misfortunes of others. We must recognize that this short life can neither be ennobled or enriched by hatred or revenge.

Our lives on this planet are too short and the work to be done too great to let this spirit flourish any longer in our land. Of course we cannot vanquish it with a program, nor with a resolution.

But we can perhaps remember, if only for a time, that those who live with us are our brothers, that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek, as do we, nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and in happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can.

Surely, this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something. Surely, we can learn, at least, to look at those around us as fellow men, and surely we can begin to work a little harder to bind up the wounds among us and to become in our own hearts brothers and countrymen once again.

Hello, Mr.Allen

I watched my first Woody Allen movie today. I started with "Manhattan", which I now hear is one of his best. I have to say, I really really like it. I mean, it has Diane Keaton in it, so that's always a good place to start with me.

the getting away

It’s near midnight I believe. As we have no reception out here, (and through the years I have fallen prey to only using my cellphone to tell the time) I’m generally unaware of the hour for a few days. My church’s “getaway” is this weekend and we’re at Camp NaCoMe located near the middle of nowhere. Note: If you’re wondering what NaCoMe means in the respective Native American languate it may be taken from, I regretfully inform you that it is actually just a combination of the three cities that triangulate around the camp: Nashville, Columbia, and Memphis. I know. Dissapointing.)

It takes a lot to get me to things like this nowadays. Namely because I can choose not to, and usually do. When we’re children, we’re generally made to do things that we don’t want to. We may had rather stay up until midnight and eat twinkies, but our parents knew we’d be tired an malnourished…so we didn’t. We don’t have that now, but sometimes I think we need it.

Anyway, the weekend is designed to actually spend time and get to know the people you are in this church community with, talk about what the church is and what it’s doing. There’s a lot of Q & A, and a lot of play time to really just spend time with people. I was a camp couselor for years, but I never really outgrew a general hesitation towards things like this. I feel silly going around and everyone saying their names. As we actually did this this first night here, Cari leaned over and articulated exactly what I was thinking, “this is why I don’t come to stuff like this.” But, I should.

More and more we can live on our own terms and participate or engage when we’d like or is convenient, but generally find a myriad of excuses not to do what we don’t’ want to do. I could have gone to this last year. I was in town. And it’s not a matter of being busy. I’m busy this week. It’s just that I didn’t want to go. There are unknowns (this is a huge one), plus you have to DO things with other people…just generally out of most comfort zones I have.

But, often even if my intentions are askew (which they always prove to be), their continually redeemed. When I go because I think I should or that it’s the “right” thing to do, God trumps my legalism and reveals himself to be who he really is. Kevin said something tonight that, as per usual, articulates it much more directly than I ever could, “We are called to submit ourselves to something greater than what we want at that moment.” Someone earlier in the service had said, “if you feel comfortable, share something that you have to be thankful for” (or something to that extent. Kevin’s response (after clarifying he meant no offense) was that it doesn’t really matter if you feel comfortable. That’s not the goal. If anything, it’s often a hindrance or a sign that I’m not really letting the gospel transform my heart. Without realizing it, I set my course to one chasing after personal satisfaction, independence, stability, happiness, rather than run towards the maker of all these things. I have an idea of what would be good for my life. May God continually dismantle the houses I build for myself and may he, instead, fulfill his promise of lavishing on us more blessings than we con conceive.

the important tax report...

Jordan's Tax Report:
Taxes blow.




In other news, Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers are crazy good. Mike Campbell. Mmmm.

back to taxes.


(if you drive a car, car;) - I’ll tax the street;
(if you try to sit, sit;) - I’ll tax your seat;
(if you get too cold, cold;) - I’ll tax the heat;
(if you take a walk, walk;) - I'll tax your feet.