As background, I will begin by saying that in 1998 I moved to South Dakota with my wife to become the director of First Nations Institute, a post-secondary school for Native Christian believers, and I was there only 18 months because of the decision to close campus operations. I am a scientist and educator, not a missionary or a “minister” in the normal sense of that word. However, I am self-trained in Bible knowledge, having extensively studied systematic theology, eventually reviewing article manuscripts, served as part-time pastor and denominational representative, and for more than three decades served as deacon in two churches. I am very familiar with life in Indian country and the pressing issues that the tribes have been dealing with for hundreds of years. I do not depend on church funds or church approval for the full-time work that I do with the tribal communities, because I am paid by a Tribal college where I directed a program in environmental studies. My specific area is theoretical physics.
Crusades – A Definition The Crusades were a series of military missions, usually organized and promoted by the Pope and/or Roman Catholic Church. The crusades took place through the 11th and 13th centuries A.D. The original intent of the crusades was to recapture “Christian” lands that had been invaded by Muslims.
The Crusaders used the Christian cross as their symbol. They believed that the symbol of the cross made them invincible against the armies of the Muslims. The word “Crusade” came from the Latin word for “cloth cross.” Eventually, the word “crusade” was used to describe the entire journey from Europe to the Holy Land.
Crusades - Why were the Crusades launched? The Crusade were responses to Muslim invasions on what was once land occupied primarily by Christians. From approximately 200 A.D. to approximately 900 A.D. the land of Israel, Jordan, Egypt, Syria, Turkey, etc. was inhabited primarily by Christians. Between 900 and 1075 A.D., Muslims invaded these lands and brutally oppressed, enslaved, deported, and even murdered the Christians living in those lands. In response, the Roman Catholic Church and “Christian” kings/emperors from Europe ordered the crusades to reclaim the land the Muslims had taken. As the crusades progressed, they became far more focused on establishing kingdoms than on reclaiming lands that had once belonged to Christians.
Crusades - Overview of Main Crusades First Crusade: The first crusade was launched by Pope Urban II after the Council of Clermont in 1095 A.D. The Eastern Orthodox Patriarch of Constantinople sent a letter to Pope Urban II, asking for his assistance against the progressing Muslim invaders. Urban gave a call to Christians throughout Europe to recapture the Holy Land, and especially Jerusalem, from the Muslims. The crusaders of the First Crusade departed in 1096 and eventually recaptured Jerusalem in 1099. On the way to Jerusalem, the crusaders established “kingdoms” for themselves in various cites in the middle east.
Second Crusade: Shortly after the First Crusade, the Muslims counter-attacked and captured the city of Edessa in 1144 A.D. St. Bernard of Clairvaux traveled throughout Europe, encouraging people to “take up the cross” and push the Muslims back from what they had retaken. Lacking a clear and persuasive goal, and marked by incompetence in leadership, the Second Crusade was an utter failure.
Third Crusade: The Third Crusade was launched in 1189 A.D. In 1187 A.D., the Muslim armies, led by Saladin, had re-conquered Jerusalem. Although at first a huge army was amassed, the Third Crusade was ultimately unsuccessful. The Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick I Barbarossa of Germany, drowned, under uncertain circumstances, on the way to the Holy Land. Richard the Lionheart of England was able to recapture several coastal cities, but did not attempt to retake Jerusalem due to a lack of resources. Lionheart did negotiate a peace treaty with Saladin, allowing for Christian pilgrims to enter Jerusalem without danger.
Fourth Crusade: The Fourth Crusade began in 1202 A.D. Lacking clear direction and strong leadership, the fourth crusade eventually resulted in a battle between Catholic and Orthodox Christians and the conquering of Constantinople by the Christian armies. The conflict destroyed any unity that remained between Catholic and Orthodox Christians.
Fifth Crusade: The Fifth Crusade took place in 1217 A.D., and was led by Andrew II of Hungary and Leopold VI of Austria. The Fifth Crusade was successful in capturing the city of Damietta, but could not hold it for long, especially after a crushing defeat at the Battle of Al-Mansura. Leopold and Andrew were actually offered control of Jerusalem and other Christian sites in the Holy Land in exchange for the return of Damietta to Muslim control. However, in his misplaced arrogance, Cardinal Pelagius refused the offer, turning a victory into an utter defeat.
Sixth Crusade: The Sixth Crusade was launched in 1228 A.D., and was led by Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II. The Sixth Crusade ended with a peace treaty that gave Christians authority over several important Christian sites, including Jerusalem.
Seventh and Eighth Crusades: The Seventh and Eight Crusades were led by King Louis IX of France. Both were complete disasters. In the Seventh Crusade, Louis recaptured Damietta, but later had his army routed. In 1270 A.D., Louis died before he was able to reach the goal of the Eighth Crusade.
The Ninth Crusade: The Ninth Crusade was Led by King Edward I of England in 1271 A.D. It was an attempt to defeat the Mamluk sultan of Baibers. The crusade failed, and Edward returned home to England upon learning of the death of his father, Henry III.
Crusades - Christian in name, but not in truth The violence and barbarism of the Crusaders gave Christianity a bad name. While it can be debated whether going to war against the Muslim invaders to re-capture Jerusalem and the Holy Land can be justified, in no manner can the deplorable actions of the Crusaders be justified. The Crusades may have been undertaken by those claiming the name of Christ, but they most definitely did not follow Christ’s example.
Part of the problem with the Crusades was the identity of many of the Crusaders. The majority of the Crusaders were essentially “the scum of the earth,” the “lowest of the low.” They were those who had nothing to lose, and supposedly everything to gain. Even during the trips through Europe on the way to the Holy Land, pillaging, burning, rape, plunder, and other deplorable acts were commonplace. The frenzy of the First Crusade even resulted in the slaughter of Jews in the Rhineland. The Crusaders justified the murdering of Jews by claiming it as revenge for the Jews killing Jesus. Thousands of innocent Jews were murdered and tortured.
When the Crusader army was finally asble to conquer Jerusalem, the slaughter was unimaginable. The Crusaders killed everyone inside Jerusalem, whether Muslim, Jew, or even Christian. By that point, the First Crusade was entirely about conquering lands for personal wealth, not for reclaiming the Holy Land for the Church.
Crusades - Unbiblical, unethical, and un-Christ-like While the crusades were ordered and led by men who claimed to be Christian, in no sense should the crusades be referred to “Christian.” It is highly unlikely that many of the participants in the crusades truly knew Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. The true purpose of “Christian” was twisted, corrupted, and humiliated by the evil actions of many of the crusaders.
The crusades were brutal and evil. Many people were forced to “convert” to Christianity. If they refused, they were put to death. This is blatantly unbiblical. . .and perhaps that is the best summary of the issue. The concept of conquering land in the Name of Jesus Christ is completely unbiblical. Jesus Christ nowhere advocates war and violence. The crusades may have been done by so-called Christians. . .but the actions that took place in the crusades were absolutely opposite to all that the Christian faith stands for.
I asked my friend David just last night about how I should go about talking to people about the things on my heart and mind after some spirited debates with someone else. Here is an excerpt:
I wonder if you think I am flirting with the condemnation thing- I don’t think I am. I don’t believe I am driving anyone away from Christ- but trying to get them to deal with some hard questions just like we went through. I believe that good will come from it. I truly feel guided on this and will continue until God places another directive on my heart.:
Here is his reply:
Scott, I cannot answer to your motives. You know what is in your heart.
As you are aware, I would not have had my eyes opened, to several very carnal biases that blocked my service to Christ, had you not, engaged me on some of these issues. Also, if you pick up your Bible and begin reading Jeremiah you will quickly become quite tired of the monotony of Jeremiah’s warnings and graphic depictions of punishment to Judah. Thus, the quote from Jeremiah “And I can’t stop! If I say I’ll never mention the Lord or speak in his name, his word burns in my heart like a fire. It’s like a fire in my bones! I am weary of holding it in!” It brought no joy to Jeremiah to speak of pain, suffering and loss. It drove away many people who were unwilling to open their eyes. It left Jeremiah drained and alone.
And Plenty of men, far more important and authoritative than I am, advised Jeremiah to ‘change his tune’ or just ’shut-up,’ which was not God’s purpose for Jeremiah. Hence, Jeremiah did what was right in God’s eyes but not man’s.
With that said however, as I have noted many times in these discussions, Jesus will be glorified in all actions, regardless of whether they are acts of faith by faithful men and women or whether they are acts of faithlessness by faithless men and women.
Pilate brought glory to Jesus by his cowardly hand washing ceremony, but it was to Pilate’s shame.
John brought glory to Jesus by his accepting Mary into his home as his own mother, and it was to John’s honor.
Here are some guideposts for you to judge your own words & actions in this exchange with [your friend]. (Hopefully these will help.)
* Is your motive and purpose to glorify Jesus? * Is your motive and purpose to serve [your friend]? * Is your motive and purpose to cause [your friend] to admit fault? * Is your motive and purpose to cause [your friend] to admit Dick Cheney’s or G.W. Bush’s fault? * Is your motive and purpose to cause [your friend] to quietly reflect on whom he places his highest allegiance? * Is your motive and purpose to win the debate?
I believe that it will help you to place these in their proper priority, by simply placing a number (1 through 6) next to each one, (1) being your highest priority and (6) being the least or non-priority. You should probably set an objective standard too, on how you will know for certain that these “goals” have been achieved, e.g. for “Is your motive and purpose to win the debate?” [your friend] will write back to you saying “You are right and I am wrong, please accept my apologies.”
I think that you will do well to consider these questions and what the conclusion of your debate will be.
Many, times planting the seed will be the only thing one can do. The sower may be long gone by the time the seed germinates and brings fruit. But, if the sower keeps digging up the seed to see if it’s germinating, what will be the end result?
I hope that this helps.
For His honor, DSM
And here is my reply back:
The first and only thing that comes to mind as far as a priority is the sharing of spiritually based wisdom, discernment and the mutual cultivation of theological literacy with my relationships and thus glorify Jesus.
I suppose to desire sharing wisdom implies that one believes himself to be wise. Is this desire the common burning shared by men that God has called out? Or is it pride? Why do we write? Becuase we desire to tell men about our God and to save them from folly I reckon? I certainly have not chosen subjects that will glorify my standing with peers. Is it vain to think of oneself as a fisher of men? An evangelist? A representative of God?
What is truth? Is it worth speaking for?
Certainly men the world over presume to speak for God and some… to kill for him….which is one of the things we must confront about this existence.
I apreciate the scripture on Jeremiah. I am not literate enough on the Old Testament.
I must tell you about a recent experience… a message so to speak…that I had.
I cast my mind before the Lord asking him what he wanted me to do about the things that burdened my heart- and the answer came back as,
“Kill it at the root”.
This was a severe and shocking reply. A mindbender, because it is the very last thing I would have guessed I would hear. It came though with such searing power to boot. This was not easy to comprehend at first- especially for someone who had been squelching all the pride, lust, greed, envy and untruth from their mind in order to remove any thing that would trigger the impulse that moves the mind out of the frame of love and into angst and violence. “Kill it at the root”. What a thing to say to a pacifist.
As I ransacked my mind trying to figure what in the great googly moogly it meant…It came to me that the key would be in understanding what the “ROOT” actually was. My mind was at light speed. It did not mean killing evil people. It meant destroying evil at the place where it really starts… cutting evil off from the very foundation of its existence…..LIES……
LIES- the great primordial and most ancient, and original sin. The thing that Satan was the father of.
Essentially then, the message was to combat darkness and evil by spreading truth and light. How to determine truth is another question. Gulp.
Heavy man. HEAVYY.
I already know that you understand…and that perhaps this sheds light on a few other things in play in discussion. What a wonderful gift from God to have a friend like you.
Raw Revelations from Apache Country- A Christmas story, a parable, an urban legend, a myth, a catharsis
It was the day after Thanksgiving and I was driving somewhere between Tombstone, AZ and the San Carlos Apache reservation. I had spent the night before and most of that day ruminating at the ornate, antique bar of the Crystal Palace Saloon in Tombstone. The last of the pain medication supply had begun to wear off. The pinched nerve in my slightly dislocated right elbow started to ache and throb. I had been strung out on the little pink and white pills for days. I had covered this span of time and over a thousand hard miles in an existential and heartsick daze. Now, the pain had its fangs in me again and it was beginning to chew. So, there I was wrestling 25,000 lbs. of steel and cargo down this lonesome desert road. I was hauling sound and video equipment for a trade show in San Jose. Holiday season had officially begun at midnight the night before and the wheels of commerce were already spinning in a frenzy throughout the land. The only radio station that would halfway tune in out there was playing Christmas music. The airwaves, even in this desolate and forsaken landscape were filled with songs about sugar plum fairies and talking snowmen cavorting in white Christmas wonderlands. I am no grinch, however, this materialism driven ridiculousness began to cross mojinate with the road-wear, pain and mileage on my soul and my composure began to unravel. About halfway through Elvis’ “Blue Christmas”, my mind seized up like a powerful engine dried up of oil. I plunged the vehicle off the road and out amongst the cactus greasewood and yucca. Now at a stop, I leapt out and engaged myself in an overdue primal scream. I cried out first to and then at the twilight heavens above. The words that spilled out of me arose from such depths that they are forever lost to me. It was as if I had spoken in tongues. Perhaps I had. As my mind recoiled back to relative awareness, I noticed the rusted hulk of a 1940s model automobile in the still burning beams of the truck’s headlights. I dashed into the cab of the truck and extracted my Winchester, model 250, 30-30 caliber rifle from behind the seat. I carry this weapon on my cross country travels as an equalizer. After all, one never knows when the apocalypse will set in or they will be beset on the road by roving banditos. I shouldered the weapon and blasted five quick shots into the decaying body of the car, sending various appendages and pieces of it flying. I went back into the truck for more bullets. The radio was now blaring “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer”, which I silenced with my boot. I was back on the sand reloading when I sensed someone or something standing behind me and to the left. I turned to behold a male figure. His visage was such that I knew instantly that this visitor was spiritual. This is something us Injuns, even half-breeds like me, are more or less accustomed to. I turned back to my target, sighted in my weapon and spoke to him/it in a casual tone, “So…you a ghost?” No answer. I asked, “Uhhh…is this your car I’m shootin’ at? No offense man,” I said turning back to him, “I was just lettin’ off a little…” My sentence trailed off as a pair of majestic, white feathered wings unfolded gracefully behind him. “Ahhh,” I said, trying to remain non-plussed, “One of the Man Upstairs’ errand boys.” I spun and fired another shot into the car. “I hope you’re here to take me home,” said I, as I lifted my eyes skyward. The stars were beginning to twinkle above. “So where’s the fiery chariot?” I asked, cocking the gun again. “Your home is still here on the Earth for now,” came the answer. When I turned to view him again he appeared as a Kachina this time. I sensed that this change had come in order to perhaps inspire a bit more awe and respect from me than I had given. So, he was playing to my penchant for Native American metaphysics. I was still feeling riled up and insolent about my state of being and said, “Ohhh, Mr. Mudman Kachina now. This here’s Apache country…ain’t you a Hopi myth? A little off aren’t ya….”
“I am Thunder Kachina and this whole continent is Indian country in general,” he said, “you should remember such things.”
“Well,” I said, “Excuuuuse me… it’s a little hard to keep it all straight here in the 21st century world of concrete and steel and shopping mall culture …I mean aren’t there like over 400 of you guys? Now if you ask me the difference between Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, Spider Man and…”
“Enough!,” Kachina Man says sternly, “We are without number, humans only know few of us.”
“There is a holy mountain not far from here,” he says gesturing towards the shadowy peaks just to the north.
“What is its name?” he asks.
Without reflection I answer, “D’zil N’cha Si’ an. It means Sky Island in the Apache tongue.”
“So you have not forgotten…you still know what to do…And why have you not taken your troubles there in prayer? Why are you here raging against a piece of rotting steel?” he asks.
His questions rile me further.
“Yeah man, you know why I remember that mountain? I was involved with the Native rights struggle to save that mountain from being defiled by the government building stuff up there a few years ago…ANOTHER LOST CAUSE,” I said, my voice raising. “Prayer?,” I went on “Maybe all you fellows up top haven’t been paying attention…I’ve been praying for six damn months for a little help with just one thing… beggin’ on my knees for just that one thing to go right…JUST ONE…IN YEARS…just one!!”
“Does this one thing have a name?” Kachina Man asks.
“You should know that,” I say sullenly. I dared not speak the name for the terror of coming completely undone out there in the solitary wasteland. “Whatever happened to that Bible teaching that says something about how almighty God knows the very number of the hairs of someone’s head anyway, man?” I ask, and then continue, “HE, should have known how important that was to me,” throwing a sharp look towards the stars. “Maybe you have heard of a thing called free will,” Kachina/Angel remarks, “That wasn’t really his call, now was it,” he adds. “Point taken,” I answer softly.
He continues, “God, being God, can certainly know anything there is to know. But, do you really think he chooses to keep all those types of things like the number of nose hairs or the volume of the wax in the ears of every living person, or each person’s mood swings in his mind all at once? Come now…If you haven’t noticed, there are other pressing matters at hand…like the generally lost condition of mankind, past, present and future…the sickness and rampant evil, confusion and perversion in the world…the ongoing strife in the middle east and all the other regions…man’s defilement of the beauty and wonder of nature and the equilibrium of creation itself which is the greatest testament of all to the very existence of God…The most powerful nation in the planet’s history rests in the hands of corporate criminals and sidewinding politicians…Man’s love of money and material things run amok…the penitentiaries, asylums and orphanages bursting at the seams… I finally dropped my rifle to the sand and sunk to my haunches, head in hands.
” What is it Scott ,” Thunder Kachina asks, “are you needing someone to blame?”
“There is no blame,” I say after a pregnant pause, ” If you had done your homework before coming here you would know that I generally never do that.” I continue, “Most of the time, when I don’t get the things I want or need, I just rationalize and say OK I guess it wasn’t God’s will for me…or Yep, he must have something else in store for me…Then I learned to just not ask for anything so I wouldn’t have to come up with new excuses for why it didn’t happen for me…Then I learned not to even expect anything at all either…But, I guess I forgot all that and dared to hope for something for the first time in a great while…I thought maybe it would happen just this once.” “Ya know, since we’re on the subject here,” I said rising to my feet and raising a pointed finger, “I would just like to remind all you Heaven dwellers that I AM one of the good guys…I am not a drunk or a drug abuser…I am honest to a fault…I do not lie or cheat or steal and always look for the good in any given situation…But, what has it gotten me?”
He answered calmly, “So, are you expecting a reward for doing these things you are supposed to do as a matter of course, or not doing those things that you are not supposed to do? Do you think your suffering in this world will be less because of these things? Why don’t you just go ahead and tell me how bad you have it? You with your near perfect health…who have never gone hungry or had to fight in a war or seen your comrades or your family butchered, burned or blown up? Go ahead, this ought to be good…I’m listening…you humans are always entertaining this way.”
“Naw,” I thought to myself, “nothing as dramatic as all that…I just have to live in a world I never made.”
He had me on the run but I was still feeling like mixing it up and wanted to get a few more things off my chest. The best response I could think of was to pull out a rant and rave I had once written. I stepped to the truck, dug into my things and retrieved a book of my writings I had brought on this trip because I was feeling sentimental as I packed. I ripped out a page and went back waving it at him. “Here ya go Mr. Messenger,” I said, “take this home and pass it around.” He began to quote it without even looking at it,
“I come rolling down the mountain solid as a rock to find sugar crazed children chokin’ the man who keeps the clock A streetwise and angry priest is throwing punches at the moon A leather clad monkey man is determined to drink his doom The preacher’s voice rattles like dry bones As the T.V. god lights up the broken homes nicotine junkies come in an ashtray kiss black lung poison - it tastes like this skinny third world kids try to suckle dry tits as a fat man farts and takes another hit The serpent crawls The empire falls The ultimate truth was buried still in Einstein’s balls Relative truth is enforced by government guns Like the wolves, whales and deer I live always on the run But the tax man says I still haven’t paid my dues I guess that’s why I’ve always got the blues…”
“We remember when you wrote that 10 years and three days ago to be exact…right before you migrated to Texas. You were in about the same shape that day as this one. It caused a bit of a stir then…we thought you might be about ready to break out…silly us. Personally I prefer The Outlaw’s Prayer you wrote. It showed a bit more humility,” Thunder Kachina said. I squatted down again, all I could do was stare at the hardscrabble ground.
“Maybe it is you Mr. Starrider,” He said mockingly, “who has not done your homework.” “Do you not remember,” he continued, “What has happened to men in pursuit of better things through the ages? Almost none of them ever found that which they sought the most in this world. This very territory is littered with the dust and bones of hungry hearted people just like you.” I sunk further down to my knees, head down, with my face hidden in the dirt.
“Do you really think you are so different,” he asked?
I closed my eyes and visions of men of this territory like Geronimo whose families, whole tribes, whole civilizations were wiped out during the conquest of the continent and the pursuit of the gold and cotton and coal. I also saw the cast of characters that made the town of Tombstone, where I’d just left earlier, famous. I saw men like Doc Holliday, the Earps, Johnny Ringo… A scene from the movie “Tombstone” replayed in my head where someone asked Val Kilmer’s version of Doc Holliday what drives men like Johnny Ringo to act as they do. “Revenge,” Doc answered. “For what,” Doc was asked.
“Bein’ born,” Doc replied pensively.
I could almost hear the blood of the ages still crying from the ground. I saw other men and women whose lives had been unfulfilled or cut short; Abe Lincoln, Joan of Arc, Martin Luther King, Crazy Horse, the Kennedys, millions of soldiers, firemen, cops, mothers, tortured musicians, artists and writers. I saw Hemingway with a shotgun in his mouth. I thought of my favorite writer, Edward Abbey, taken by cancer, who had himself buried somewhere in this very desert in a dry wash underneath a cactus. I also thought of those people enslaved and stepped on in order to build the big machine and the hungry children that never had a chance at all. Thunder Kachina spoke again, adding to my reverie. Even the most righteous, the men closest to God, the Messiah himself included, have met with sorry ends…and too soon. They were crucified, some of them upside down… stoned, burned, beheaded….” I pictured the apostle John, disheveled, crazy and hiding in a salt cave on the Greek island of Patmos trying to scribble down his fitful dreams into what would become the book of Revelation. “No hope,” I thought out loud as I rose to my feet feeling more sullen than ever. ”Well, golly gee,” I said, “Thanks so much for dropping in to cheer me up like this Kachina-angel man, but, really I’ve gotta get goin’…take care now.”
“I am here because we need you to stay the course,” he said.
“The course!?!” I say, “What freakin’ course man!? If there is some master plan workin’ for me I sure don’t see it.”
He says, “Contrary to your anger, your faith is still strong. If it were not so, I would not be here.”
“Faith!?,” I ask, “Is that what you call it when a dumb shit like me keeps hanging on and hanging on when there’s nothing left to be hanging on to but some gut instinct that says don’t let go?” “Yes,” he said, “Even now you cling to your faith, if you did not, you would not be so lost and tortured feeling…You simply would not care like most people out there…you’d just be absorbed in consumerism, television shows, sports utility vehicles and the like.” He continues, “I’ve seen many just like you, all lost trying to live a life of spirit and relevance and the life of the worldly at the same time. You’re trying to keep a foot in both worlds at the same time and it’s tearing you apart. Still, you have lived longer than most of your ilk ever do. The world has not found a way to put out your fire just yet. Only you yourself can do that. That is why the Lord favors you.”
“FAVORS ME!?,” I scream, “If he favors me so much what the fuck am I doing out here damaged bad, all by myself talking to some big head clay mask wearing guy who probably ain’t even there!?!” “Don’t pretend my friend,’ he says, “You know the power of the gift you have been given…You have known since you were a boy, which you really still are by the way. You could have been a billionaire twenty times over if you had let the world corrupt you, but nooo, not you. You cling to that faith… that vision inside you of how things ought to be. Right now you are just pissed off . The trouble is you have not used that gift at all…except to try and woo women and make jokes.”
“That’s right, I am pissed off…hurt too. How observant of you,”I said.
Then sarcastically I added, “I’m real sorry man if I am mistaken, but, I like women…and I always heard that laughter was good medicine too.”
“Women are good, but, I don’t think I need to tell you they can also destroy you… mind body and soul. Laughter is good medicine, insincerity is a sin” Thunder Kachina said.
After letting these words sink in for a moment he said, “There was a story you were supposed to tell…don’t pretend you have forgotten the visit we paid you back in 1985. You haven’t told that story yet though… now have you.”
Another pregnant pause.
“Because,” he continued, “You, my friend, are a coward…a survivor, but, still a coward. You try so hard to fit in, even though you know you never will…until you use that inner voice you were given…And then…things will fit in around you…Look at yourself…How long do you plan to wait?”
I was reeling but still had plenty of fight left in me. As I reached for words, a passage from a book I had once read rose up and commanded a moment’s thought. It was from a book entitled “The Unbearable Lightness of Being”, by Milan Kundera.
The passage that had stuck to my head for so long went, “…He had never been able to engage himself completely in any love affair or any pleasure, he had never been really unhappy; he always felt as though he were somewhere else, that he was not yet wholly born…He waited.” Thunder Kachina had me on the run. Still, I wanted to self indulge in my sorry mood, my bleeding heart, my rage, my solitude. My highly evolved self defense mechanisms flared again and I decided to just bolt. I snatched my rifle up again, but before I could spout some snappy comeback and storm away, the angel morphed again. Suddenly, the angel appeared as a gorgeous blond haired, green eyed cowgirl with a dynamite smile and dressed only in a western hat and boots, nothing else…and holding a fine guitar. This time I WAS in awe. For the first time since the episode had begun, I questioned my own sanity. I thought I’d better verify whether or not I was hallucinating phantasms. At least that was the handiest excuse as I stepped forward and ran my fingers through her golden hair. Then, I reached out and gently touched one of her perfect breasts. I stepped back flustered now.
“Whatever it takes to keep your attention,” she/he/it, said.
I grinned sheepishly as I took in the beautiful visage in front of me. I was Still wanting to maintain my cocky bearing and so asked flirtatiously, “So is this like the modern day version of the burning bush?,” smiling at my own tasteless joke.
“You are feeling fresh tonight aren’t you?” she remarked with a twinkle in her eye.
She then said, ” The Lord wants me to sing you a song now…Why don’t you just have a seat over there and take a load off…You look so tired.”
Her comment about my wear and tear showing wounded me a little and softened me up a bit. The female sympathy made my eyes mist a little as I leaned my rifle on the old car and took a seat in the dirt leaning back on the fender, slack jawed. She began to play and sing with the voice of …well an angel.
(listen below)
Desperado, why don’t you come to your senses,
You’ve been out ridin fences for so long now, Oh and you’re a hard one, but I know that you’ve got your reasons, The things that are pleasin’ you can hurt you somehow.
Don’t you draw the Queen of Diamonds boy, she’ll beat you if she’s able. You know the Queen of Hearts is always your best bet. Now it seems to me some fine things have been laid upon your table, But you only want the ones you can’t get.
Desperado, you ain’t gettin no younger, Your pain and your hunger, they’re drivin you home, And freedom, oh freedom, well that’s just some people talkin. Your prison is walking through this world all alone.
Don’t your feet get cold in the wintertime, The sky won’t snow and the sun won’t shine, It’s hard to tell the nighttime from the day. And you’re losin all your highs and lows, Ain’t it funny how the feelin goes away?
Desperado, why don’t you come to your senses, Come down from your fences- open the gates. It may be rainin, but there’s a rainbow above you. You’d better let somebody love you, LET SOMEBODY LOVE YOU. You’d better let somebody love you, before it’s too late.
By the middle of the song, my heart was shattered. Still, I was somehow able to swallow it and stifle most of my tears. “It’s gonna take more than some sappy song to make things right,” I tell myself. I struggle back to my feet like a prize fighter that had gone down hard from a crushing blow, but whose instinct to fight on lifted him again against all reason. Sensing she had nearly broken me, she started into another tune- a Bible school song I remembered from boyhood.
She sang, “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine - This little light of mine-I’m gonna let it…”
I stepped up and muted the strings of the guitar by grabbing it by the neck. I resisted the urge to snatch that guitar and smash it over the hood of that rusty old car, figuring that it might be a good way to get myself smited or smitten or whatever. I figured there just might be an entire legion of angels standing by at the ready to turn me into a crispy smithereen to mingle with the desert sands and be tossed around by roving dust devils til the Earth itself became a smithereeen. Still, I could not resist the urge to give more voice to the hurt inside me even though I knew the angel was right about everything and I was wrong as I could be.
“Ya know,” I said, “I really did enjoy your little ditty and all…and I really do appreciate the Good Lord playing Casey Kasem up there with the long distance dedications and all…I mean I have always been a sucker for a good tune… rock and roll, country, blues, gospel, bluegrass, folk…you name it…but ya know I think right now that all of that music of the ages, all that expression of humanity - the longing -the yearning for something better- for truth and beauty and love…it don’t mean nothing…it’s just NOISE!!!! You miss Eternal Angel, should know that…bound forever to sing praise and more praise in heavenly choirs just so you can keep doing it some more. I’m glad you are OK with that and can keep it up…But, I have had all the pointlessness I can stand.” I turned my back to her and I lowered my voice and said sarcastically,
“Let somebody love me, huh? Now why didn’t I think of that?”
“Ohhhh Scott,” she said, “You are loved.”
“Yeah right,” I said, “Nobody really knows me, my people like me mainly for my entertainment value…my so called charisma.” My voice began to crack. I went on, “I’m out here chasing some myth, call it truth, true love…whatever, I am the stupid one here. I see other people settle, take the path of least resistance, simply tolerate each other and they all look as happy as clams while I’m making myself miserable by believing someday I will find satisfaction…something to believe in… a love that will move mountains…something real and honest and pure…some truth to cling to…meanwhile other people choose each other like they were picking out a new car…I know now that my romanticism of life must die and give way to realism.”
“I know you are hurting Scott,” she said sweetly, ” But I also know that inside you know that the path to becoming a better person is about learning how to give love not how to get it. I see it in you. I see it in your actions…You have done so well.”
I was shaking I was so worked up. My insides felt like a burning cinder. I was seething with spite. I worked up a big fake smile, turned back to her and said sarcastically, “Ohhhh, I get it. It’s like John Lennon once said, “In the end the love you take is equal to the love you make.”
“That’s it,” she said with a tentative smile.
I went on, “I always wondered though, what Lennon thought about that saying while he laid there on the sidewalk WITH ALL THOSE BULLET HOLES IN HIM AND HIS BLOOD SEEPING INTO THE GUTTER.”
I took some vile pleasure in watching the smile drain from that lovely, angelic face. Then big tears formed in those beautiful eyes and the guitar slipped from her grasp to the desert floor. My satisfaction was short lived. I had outdone myself. One thing I cannot stand is to see a woman cry. I will say or do anything to avoid it. I had to turn away again. Hearing the soft and pitiful sobs of an angel made something inside of me break as well. I dropped once again to my knees. I felt as though I was being turned inside out. In the most pitiful human voice I have ever heard, I sobbed,
“Who will take care of me when I get old?”
She stepped up and embraced me from behind. She said in the voice of a nurturing mother, “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you my son.” She ran her fingers lovingly through my now sweaty hair. I sobbed like a baby. After several epic moments she said with a humorous lilt, “Besides, what makes you think that you are going to live long enough to be considered old.”
I turned to look up a her gorgeous face and that tender teasing smile made me smile as well, right through my hot, passionate tears. She then stepped back. In a minute, I staggered back to my feet again. Practice makes perfect. She picked up the guitar again and I retrieved my gun.
“I’ve really gotta get going now,” I said, “There’s a bunch of meeting planners that are gonna come apart at the seams if I don’t get all these electronic toys to ‘em on time for their little pep rally.”
She stood pat.
I could only bear to stare at the ground, standing there in the cool desert night air with that gun over my shoulder. I turned toward the truck and spoke to her again.
I said, “You know, they’ll all think I’m crazy, they already do…no one will ever believe I was out here talking to you…them…whatever.”
“Does that really matter?” she asked.
“Naw,” I said, I reckon It don’t.”
She said softly, “Stay the course Scott…allow yourself to be great…You have now defeated ignorance, greed, fear, pride and desire…there’s nothing left to stop you. Most people live as though they had a thousand years in front of them…don’t make that mistake…your fate is at your heels, you already know this. I just came to give you a reminder…a little lift.” “Thank you,” I said in a whisper. Then, shuffled back to my truck and loaded myself up. She started strumming the guitar again and sung a few lines from the song from the rock band “Foreigner” that have given me my nickname back in high school when my old pal Anthony Mazza used to sing it to me. She sung, “Starrrrriderrrr-Starrrrriderrrr nobody knows who you are.” I leaned out the truck window and said, “Cute… very Cute.” We shared a mischevious smile. I fired the engine and began to back up. I was amazed that the truck was not bogged in the sand. I thought this must surely be her/their work. I looked back in her direction just in time to see her/them/it morph again into the form of a coyote, the Native American Indian archetype of the trickster, a divine messenger and vessel of wisdom. The coyote dashed away into the desert night. I backed on up to the pavement and aimed the truck down the pitch black road. After a bit, I put the radio on again and began to sing along with the song that was on:
I am a poor boy too a rumpa pum pum
I have no gift to bring a rumpa pum pum
That’s fit to give a king a rumpa pum pum, rumpapum pum, rumpapum pum
Shall I play for you? a rumpa pum pum On my drum?
There he nodded a rumpa pum pum, rumpa pum pum, rumpapumpum….
Click on the small arrow in the corner of the screen to play.
Ship Of Fools (Save Me From Tomorrow) Lyrics:
We’re setting sail to a place on the map From which no-one has ever returned Drawn by the promise of the joker and the fool By the light of the crosses that burned Drawn by the promise of the wormen and lace And the gold and the cotton and pearls It’s the place where they keep all the darkness you need You sail away from the light of the world on this trip, baby
You will pay tomorrow You’re gonna pay tomorrow You will pay tomorrow
Oh, save me, save me from tomorrow I don’t want to sail with this Ship of Fools, no, no Oh, save me, save me from tomorrow I don’t want to sail with this Ship of Fools I want to run and hide Right now
Avarice and greed are gonna drive you over the endless sea They will leave you drifting in the shallows Drowning in the oceans of history Traveling the world, you’re in search of no good But I’m sure you’ll build your Sodom like you knew you would Using all the good people for your galley slaves As your little boat struggles through the warning waves But you don’t, pay
You will pay tomorrow You’re gonna pay tomorrow You’re gonna pay tomorrow
Oh, save me, save me from tomorrow I don’t want to sail with this Ship of Fools, no, no Oh, save me, save me from tomorrow I don’t want to sail with this Ship of Fools, no, no
Where’s it coming from Oh, Where’s it going now It’s just a, it’s just a Ship of Fools
“Though the cross of Christ has been beautified by the poet and the artist, the avid seeker after God is likely to find it the same savage implement of destruction it was in the days of old. The way of the cross is still the pain-wracked path to spiritual power and fruitfulness.”
“So do not seek to hide from it. Do not accept and easy way. Do not allow yourself to be patted to sleep in a comfortable church, void of power and barren of fruit. Do not paint the cross nor deck it with flowers. Take it for what it is, as it is, and you will find it the rugged way to death and life. Let it slay you utterly.”
