I’ll usually say the national park system. I’m proud that Yosemite, in my geographic back yard, was where Teddy Roosevelt and John Muir schemed to radically protect and care for wilderness.
What about Thomas Jefferson and his buddies scribing the Declaration of Independence?
Since my wife’s from the dairy state, maybe I should advocate the ice cream sundae, “invented” by a Two Rivers, Wisconsin resident in 1881. Those scoops of ice cream and ribbons of chocolate were so special you should only eat ‘em on a Sunday. Or, oops, make it real special: call every day a Sundae!
What do you think is America’s best?
What about the worst?
I think Christian millennialism ranks low (or high?) on the “worst idea” scale. Millennialism: the end of time, end of the world, Jesus’ second coming. Perhaps more than any other nation, we’ve espoused and codified religious notions about the world’s end. These have occurred even though Luke, among other places, has Jesus bluntly stating, “the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”
And yet that didn’t stop nineteenth century evangelist Steven Miller from predicting that the Second Coming would happen between March, 1843 and March, 1844. Days passed. Weeks went by. Autumn became winter and winter became spring. March of 1844 arrived and Jesus hadn’t appeared. Miller reconsidered and posited that April 18, 1844 was the real date.
Here we are, nearly 170 years after that revised date and still no second coming. Continue reading →
Acts 4:32-35 – the 2nd Sunday of Easter – for April 15, 2012
“There was not a needy person among them…” (Acts 4:34)
When facing an audience, I’ve often begun with a reliable Franklin Delano Roosevelt quip on the speaker’s role: Be honest, be brief, be seated.
Though unable to recall the first time I used FDR’s blunt commentary, it served two purposes. It usually produced laughter, helping audiences relax. His quote also underscored my goals as a speaker. While brevity had little to do my typical Sunday sermon (sad, but true), if I introduced another speaker or prepared listeners for a workshop, I’d happily reference and follow FDR’s advice.
Not long ago, I learned I’d been misquoting the 32nd President of the United States for years. The more accurate version is: “be sincere, be brief and be seated.”
There’s also this—which I didn’t know as a kid studying U.S. history when John F. Kennedy wasn’t history, but the current president, and we admired his famous ”Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country,’”—but FDR couldn’t stand on his own. To be honest or sincere, the polio-stricken Roosevelt often remained in his chair. If he stood, metal braces and/or aides literally propped him up. As an adult, I learned FDR spoke, if not a lie, at least a personal irony. Be sincere, be brief . . . and always be seated? But until the final decades of the 20th century, the media perpetuated the American myth of invulnerability by rarely depicting FDR (or other Presidents) as mere mortals. If FDR couldn’t stand tall on his own, most pictures or articles made it appear he could.
There’s also this . . . it’s likely President Kennedy or his speech writers weren’t original with, ”Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.” Some have suggested he cribbed from a prep school teacher. Or perhaps not. Perhaps JFK’s statement is uniquely and singularly his and we should simply be grateful for it. On the other hand, and there’s always another hand, I mention our 35th president for ulterior reasons. For me—a Baby Boomer—Kennedy was the “knight in shining armor,” along with being a young husband and doting father. But oh, the passage of years and scrutiny, from scholars to hack journalists, exposed the prurient truth of the one-time commander of PT 109: JFK likely was a drug addict (battling debilitating pain) and womanizer (joining the likes of FDR and millions of other husbands in high places who strayed).
If I’m muddled about sincerity vs. honesty, I’m probably also not doing such a bang-up job on brevity with this wandering essay. But, as J.R.R. Tolkien said, “Not all who wander are lost.” How I love that sentiment! Alas, I’ve often misquoted the venerable Tolkien. Once, when using the “wander” words to help explain why I’d left the stability of church ministry to foolishly try to become a published writer, a more knowledgeable (and snarkier) acquaintance pointed out that Tolkien wrote . . . “Not all those who wander are lost.” Continue reading →