Living These Days

Author: Mary Patricia Trainor

  • Sacred Text

    Mark 8:22-38
    Tree People


    Every time I bump into today’s passage from Saint Mark, I encounter a bit of spiritual discomfort.


    It’s a familiar account of Jesus using spit and dirt as salve for a blind man’s eyes.


    When checking in with the patient, Jesus hears that full healing has not occurred.


    “I can see people, but they look like trees, walking, ” the blind man tells Jesus.


    This is where discomfort enters.


    What is this? An incomplete miracle, requiring further action?
    Even though a second “treatment” from Jesus is at hand, I am confused by the need for it. Jesus doesn’t need do-overs. What gives?


    But maybe it’s similar for all of us. Maybe it’s why some go to church every Sunday: A maintenance check.


    Why some listen to old-time Gospel music in the quiet of their home late at night, and let the tears fall without apology: A much-needed catharthis.


    One night years ago I was part of a parking lot service, attempting to offer God’s healing in that place, the site of a recent brutal murder. As we began to sing Amazing Grace, a man lurched from the crowd now gathered. Ragged and dirty from years on the street, his perfect baritone voice joined with ours: “I was blind but now I see.”


    I guess that’s how it can be in our relationship with God: Some days, when we’re trying to forge our own way, alone, maybe all we can see are “tree people.”


    We need a refueling of the sort that can only come from above, before we can see things as they are.

  • Public Square

    My new friend Phil

    A few weeks ago we hadn’t a clue that the other existed. Now. Phil writes to me daily,
    but has yet to answer any of my emails.
    I suspected Phil might not be “real,” which was confirmed when his “boss” wrote to say Phil is not able to answer email, but that they are working on getting him those privileges.
    It all began when I responded online to a job opening for a chaplain at a local hospital. Phil was quick on the draw getting back to me. I hurriedly uploaded a current resume that clearly outlines my fields of experience: journalism, private school administration, and ministry.
    He was excited, he wrote, noting that he had many things that were right up my alley: occupational therapy, medical assistant, surgeon, and…you get the point. Today I got more: medical director, neurosurgeon.
    Apparently the only thing he picked up from my application and resume was the word “hospital.”
    When I reached out to correct this gross misunderstanding, I learned that Phil can’t reach back.
    So, whichever employers are being represented by this online recruiter, they are not being served well. Of course, neither am I and I have no recourse—but then neither have I paid any
    money.
    This is a pretty good example of an AI failure. I imagine Phil was programmed for key words, such as hospital, without nuance. It can probably be fixed, but how to even tell anyone?

    AI.
    We can fear it.
    We can worry about ethical uses.
    We can pretend that it has nothing to do with our lives.
    We can stomp our feet and threaten it.
    We can try to just wait it out.
    My strategy is to embrace AI, mostly because it intrigues me. Also, realizing it likely is not going away, I may as well try to understand what I can.
    As for me & Phil, the end is in sight. One-way communication has never been a successful game plan for relationships.

  • Sacred Text

    In defense of Mary Magdalene

    An old proverb comes to mind for me today. It is often attributed to the Irish, but also has been credited to Mark Twain. Also, to the American humorist, Will Rogers. Also,  Winston Churchill.

    So, while it may be of questioned origin, its abiding truth shouts to us from across the centuries:

    Get a reputation as an early riser and you can sleep until noon.

    It works in reverse, too. Once saddled with a fabricated story, it’s often the fabricated story that is remembered.

    Today, the Church celebrates the monumental contribution of Saint Mary Magdalene. The Apostle to the Apostle. At Jesus’ side. At the cross. At the tomb. In the garden. First to see the risen Jesus. Chosen to break the news to others.

    The Bible says Jesus rid her of seven demons, without detail.

    What the Bible does not say is that she was a prostitute. That lie about Mary is attributed to Pope Gregory’s sermon in 591AD, as he conflated several women into one person. In doing so, he created an error, which it took years for the Church to correct 

    In 2016, Pope Francis elevated her feast day to the same status as that of the male apostles.

    Further, it was Francis who bequeathed upon her the honorific, Apostle to the Apostles.

    Why is it important to clear up such an old and perpetuated falsehood about Mary Magdalene?

    One, simply to set that history straight, that a woman was a principal member, leader even, of Jesus’ A-Team.

    Two, the error perpetuated the myth about women, sin, and sexuality.

    Three, it obscured the chance to see a female as a strong leader in early Christianity.

    So, please. Pass it along: Mary Magdalene was NOT a prostitute.

  • Sacred Text

    I wish there was more clarity
    Mark 2:1-12

    I am not from Missouri, but maybe I should have been. Missouri, if you recall, is the “show me” state, a reference to its people being especially vigilant about the truth.

    Perhaps needing more evidence.

    Show me.
    I, too, require some proof. Especially in this day and age of fake news and AI news and CGI movies and all the liberties taken with facts and factual occurrences.

    In Mark‘s gospel today, Jesus tells a paralyzed man that his sins are forgiven.

    Some scribes sitting nearby think it an outrageous claim. Anyone could say that, but where’s the proof?

    So Jesus decides to offer something big and visible. Rather than just the invisible “forgiving” of sins.

    To the paralyzed man he says, get up, take your mat and go.

    Show me, the nearby scribes say. Jesus does.

    So I wonder. From wherever I am in life’s journey, am I even capable of being grateful to God for the myriad gifts bestowed? Do I even see them all? Or do I overlook them because prayer answers come in some form I’m not expecting? Such as my sins being forgiven versus being able to walk again.

    Am I looking for something bigger, better, more provable?

    I have to be honest. Yes, at times I’d love the assurance of proof. But instead, I’ve been given the blessing of faith. And, as you may know, it doesn’t always line the path with lights and directional signs.

    So every once in a while, in times in which I am more needy, I may falter and wish Jesus could just show me the way, the answer, the next step. Meanwhile, my faith and I will continue the journey, sometimes wishing I could see more clearly, but, in the absence of proof, we carry on.

  • Public Square

    Kerr County Texas: When is the price too high?


    More than one hundred lives were lost in Texas flooding that began July 4. Eighty-six in Kerr County alone. And apparently that’s not the final count.


    We’ve read or seen numerous accounts of loss and sorry, bravery, heroics, tenacity, and love.


    Most of us became aware of the devastation when the Guadalupe River breached its banks and, in effect, demolished a girl’s summer camp–and much else.


    Families are devastated. What happened is unthinkable. Unimaginable. You drop your child off for a summer respite—and you never see them alive again. How does that happen?


    The blame-game has begun, I’m sure. Agency to agency. Parents to agencies. Maybe even parent to parent in cases where there wasn’t agreement on sending their child in the first place.


    Attorneys are circling, I’m certain, and lawsuits will strangle the courts for years to come.


    But if there’s a lesson for the future, we may find it, not in the courtrooms of tomorrow, but in meeting rooms of the past. Specifically from 2017.


    The Guadalupe River has a history of severe flooding. So in 2017, Kerr County applied for a grant to fund a million-dollar state-of-the art advance warning system.


    No grant was forthcoming. So, proponents sought funding from Kerr County’s budget. Denied as being too expensive. 
    I bring this up, not to vilify leaders of the past, but to inspire leaders now and in the future.


    Sure, it’s important to be wise with public money. But how could public money be better spent than on saving lives from a well known treacherous river?


    Here’s the full, AI verified story of the 2017 Kerr County plan to install a modern floodwarning system along the Guadalupe River—and why it never materialized:


    What actually happened in 2017?


       •   January 2017: The Kerr County Commissioners Court unanimously approved applying for a ~$975,000 FEMA grant (later cited as $980K or $1M) to develop a comprehensive flood warning system—including river gauges and sirens—in “Flash Flood Alley”.


       •   Mid2017: An engineering study (funded by the county at a cost of $50,000) recommended this system, estimating implementation would cost $750,000–$1M.


       •   The proposed system was modeled after tornado siren networks in nearby Comal County, plus upgraded flowgauges……cited as vital for monitoring and warning folks downstream at camps and river crossings.


    Why it wasn’t approved?


       •   Grant application denied: The FEMA grant—and a subsequent application after Hurricane Harvey in 2017–18—were both rejected, as those funds were prioritized for coastal and Harvey affected communities.


       •   Local funding roadblocks: With no federal funds, commissioners considered investing local dollars but ultimately shelved it. Budget constraints, taxaverse sentiment,
    and resident resistance—especially concern over disruptive sirens—were cited.


       •   One commissioner famously joked that sirens might drive him back to drinking, reflecting community pushback .

  • Sacred Text

    Psalm 121 and Uncle August
    I never met my mother’s uncle, but I heard many colorful stories.

    August was my mother’s  mother’s brother, a man of adventure, or so it would seem. His legend endured down through the years, though surely embellished over time.


    A professional gambler, let’s just say he did not fit into the rules of his Southern Baptist sister’s home. But he was just so likable, and her kids adored him. So, as long as he didn’t bring up his gambling, no one else did either.


    My mother told the story about one early childhood morning when just she and August were at the small kitchen table. She watched as he filed the tips and pads of his fingers.
    “I can feel the cards better,” he explained. They were special buddies, so he shared some “trade secrets” with her.


    So what does any of this have to do with Psalm 121, one of the psalms offered today? Let’s consider another Uncle August story. It took place during the Great Depression.


    A terrible storm had swelled the Rio Grande River in south Texas. Food supply was low at the house and, between having no money and the storm cutting off access routes, the family dinner seemed in jeopardy. His sister said, “August, you go find us some dinner.”


    What? he thought.


    As he walked along the banks of the Rio Grande, he saw that the river had started to recede. Ahead he noticed something flopping around, splashing water. Mystified, he walked at a greater pace, wanting to see what it was.


    Lo and behold. A sixty-pound catfish was trapped in a hole, not making it out while the river was high. August reached in the hole, hooked his index finger into a gill, lifted the massive fish, and headed home.


    Dinner plans that were doubtful that morning took a miraculous turn. It brings to mind these words from Psalm 121:


    I lift up my eyes to the hills—from where will my help come?   My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

  • Public Square

    More (or less) about truth

    Photography, in its purest form, is as close as we can get to an eye-witness account without actually being present.

    It is for good reason that photography has been a staple of journalism for decades, After all, it is said that one photograph can “replace a thousand words.”

    Just try to describe in words that awesome moment in World War II history when U.S. Marines planted the American flag on Iwo Jima. Joe Rosenthal’s award-winning photo was etched on the minds of a generation. It tells the story that thousands of words cannot capture.

    Or try to replace with words astronaut Bill Anders’ 1968  photo of the moonrise over the Earth. The first time we saw “this fragile earth, our island home.”

    Yes, photographs have captured history for years to come. And will continue to do so.

    AND.

    Photographs can be manipulated so that they distort the truth.

    In the 1994 murder trial of football hero O.J. Simpson, two national news magazines handled his jailhouse photos differently.  Newsweek ran the photo on the cover, without serious editing. Time carried the same photo, seriously doctored to make the suspect appear more menacing. The magazine was widely criticized for this, and comparing the two photos was a buzz around newsrooms for months to come.

    All of this pales with comparison to what Artificial Intelligence can do now. I have gotten to where I trust very little of what I see. What a shame.

  • Public Square

    What is truth?

    The answer to Pilate’s question “what is truth” seems more obscure each day. Truth in journalism is especially complicated nowadays.

    An erstwhile journalist, I am so frustrated with finding the truth in current affairs. Desperate for updated information on U.S. American politics, I scan news sites and, yes, social media, where I encounter many interesting reports. But before I can share them, I struggle with figuring out if they are true. Are they factual?

    As we know, the most powerful lie, the most convincing lie, is a half-truth. 

    Snopes and other fact-checking sites can only do so much. Nuance and artistry get in the way.

    In watching Reels, I see some mighty strange stuff. Reports and videos look “real” and may even be in part.

    Even so, and no matter how well done, some videos just scream out, “Joke.” Even I sometimes can tell when something’s amiss. For instance, there’s a video out there showing Vladimir Putin eating popcorn and laughing while watching President Trump’s June 14 Parade on television.

    Factual? I don’t think so. But who knows.

    We used to be able to count on news agencies presenting news with credibility. I fear those days are gone. I pray that I am wrong.

  • Sacred Text

    An age-old question

    Pontius Pilate’s role in the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth is rich ground to till.

    The passionately ambitious Roman Prefect of Judea, by historical accounts, was not a nice man. He was not “woke.” Ordering a crucifixion would not burden his conscience—all things being equal.

    But all things were not equal in the case of Jesus. These “things” made Pilate nervous— nervous enough that he told the jeering crowd that he found nothing for which to condemn Jesus.

    Summed up, it all had to do with “truth,” which Jesus said was his purpose on Earth. To bring the truth.

    Pilate’s question is still pertinent today:  “Truth? What is truth?”

  • Public Square

    California, Here I Come


    My brother and I are native Californians. We started elementary school in the Los Angeles environs of the1950s, when duck-and-cover bomb drills were routine because then the agreed-
    upon great fears were Russians and nuclear armament. As native Californians, we were in the minority at school. I am sure it’s commonplace now. But wherever my classmates and I were
    from, we shared common enemies: Russians and nuclear bombs.


    It’s more nuanced these days. Who are the good guys and the bad guys now? Well, there’s a lot more gray.


    Remember the mid-century proliferation of Western movies? Even there the color of a cowboy’s hat communicated the “side” he represented: white hat, good guy; black hat, bad guy.


    In the 1950s and onward, we also had journalists and news entities who were respected for their commitment to telling the truth no matter the cost.


    But where we are today? When I see a headline of a news story, and then read the lead paragraph, all too often I wonder: What is the truth here? As for photographs, your guess is as
    good as mine: AI? A “real” photograph but tweaked by AI? Same problem.


    These days, if I want to share a story or a photo, I have to do my own fact-checking as best I can.


    So, what I am doing in this blog is providing two things that can be useful in the days ahead.


    First thing, consider this Latin phrase, Posse Comitatis. Or, more specifically, the Posse Comitatus Act. This is the law that limits the power of the federal government in state jurisdictions. Specifically, neither the federal government nor the U.S. president can singly send federal troops into a state for law enforcement purposes. In other words, President Trump illegally sent federal troops to California to assist In managing crowd control. He was not, he was not needed, not not invited, nor did he withdraw them when asked to do so by Governor Gavin Newsome who, who along with 49 other governor, may request federal troop support. If you wish to know more, here’s a link to Wikipedia.
    https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Posse_Comitatus_Act

    Second thing, know your rights before you need to. Here’s a link from Arizona ACLU. You can print this and take with you, leave in your car, or have in your pocket. Hand out to friends. If you think you will not be approached by immigration officers, I say, think again.
    https://www.acluaz.org/en/know-your-rights/what-do-if-youre-stopped-police-or-immigration-
    agents

    Here are the classic lyrics to California, Here I Come


    California, Here I Come
    (by Al Jolson, DeSylva & Meyer, 1924)


    California, here I come
    Right back where I started from
    Where bowers of flowers bloom in the sun
    Each morning at dawning
    Birdies sing an’ everything
    A sun-kissed miss said, “Don’t be late!”
    That’s why I can hardly wait
    Open up that Golden Gate
    California, here I come!