Dear President Trump. Let me tell you a story of King David put in my vernacular.. There once was mighty ruler. He might even have styled himself a king. He was the most powerful man in the world. He had had many wives. The latest had just given him a son. He was out on his veranda one day hosting a party. He noticed a vision of beauty flouting her best. He was smitten. He lusted for her in his heart. He forgot his wife and child. He chased his latest sex toy around and around and had his way with her. His country was fighting a war, several in fact. He needlessly sent young men and women to their deaths for his personal satisfaction. His adultery was discovered and hidden by his flunkies. One day his most intimate counselor came and told him a story. He told him of a very rich man who took a poor shepherds prize lamb and cooked it for himself and his friends. The King was incensed. He decreed the vile rich man should be punished. His trusted counselor said, ‘You are that Man.” The king wanted the secret kept, so with a wink and a not, the counselor paid off the wicked working woman and all was well… Until the counselor named Cohen realized God and the law could punish him for his perfidy. So, he announced to the world… The King is the Man.’ Some were astonished and sickened. Others, with too much to lose, turned up their noses and mumbled ‘boys will be boys.’ God was not pleased. God wanted to forgive the King… but the King refused to acknowledge his sin. Sad. President Trump…. You Are That Man…. Double SAD. 011618.
Dear President Trump. In my weaker moments you simply wear me down. The steady stream of lies, obfuscation, half-truths and bombastic bullying begin to overwhelm the senses and my sensibilities. I remember listening to some of your promises with faint glimmers of hope (maybe it won’t be quite as bad as I fear it will be….) More jobs, no reductions in Food Stamps, Medicaid or Medicare, draining the Washington swamp. But I see alligators and crocodiles swimming up the newly invigorated Potomac swamp. Wife abusers are praised and defended without letting ‘due process’ run its course. Bait and switch tactics are the order of the day with Congress and the American people. Corporations throw thousands of dollars to the crowds to cover the billions of dollars gleaned from outrageous increases in the national debt. “Privatization” is the watchword. $46 beltway tolls are the new ‘soak it to the public’ scam. Out here in backwards Oregon we don’t have toll roads, though I hear you want to change that. You punish children and the elderly, the disabled and minorities in your new budget. One is tempted to let despair wash over me and give up the struggle. Indeed, the battle for the heart and soul of our nation may be lost. But, even your Lord Jesus when confronted with the horrors of corrupt and greedy leadership said in the vernacular of his time…. ‘Bring it On’ And they did… they crucified him. But it didn’t stop his love of anyone in need. And you will not stop many of us. We believe justice and mercy will prevail. We will work for the ‘good’ locally even if we despair nationally. God Bless you Mr. President. God give you a changed heart, a renewed spirit and a transformed love of God and human beings. I pray. 021418.
Dear President Trump. Trying to know my enemy better, I was watching some of your old campaign videos. You are indeed an impressive motivator. But I keep coming up against one of your biggest crowd-pleasing moments. “Who’s going to build the wall”? You call out like on old time preacher. And the response come rolling in, “Mexico” “Mexico” “Mexico.” And in some of your speeches you cap it with, “That’s right, Mexico is going to pay for it, 100%…100 %… 100%.” You stand there clapping for yourself and the crowd and everyone is loving it. The problem with promises, my enemy, is that some people actually expect you to keep them. Now we find out that the mighty Mexicans have defeated you utterly. We American tax payers are going to pay for your wall. I can hardly wait for the current generation of “Great Escape” movies with the Mexican Steve McQueen jumping the wall in his motorcycle, or the Guatemalan Charles Bronson rowing around it in a boat, or the Honduran James Garner flying over it, all of them thumbing their noses at your hubris and your failure. But your broken promises to voters are nothing compared to the broken promises you have made to God. May God forgive you. May God change your heart. May God open your mind to acts of justice, compassion, yes, even mercy for all people but especially for all those in pain around the world who desperately look to the United States for help and hope but instead find bloated greed and economic slavery. 020318
Dear President Trump. From your speeches and actions I intuit you believe in catch phrases, popular put downs, both spreading and condemning Fake News as you see fit. You scare us with horrible omens and portents of what will happen in the future if you are not obeyed. Further you align yourself with a very conservative brand of the Christian Religion. True believers in the literal interpretation of the bible have been invited to pray with you. Those of us who can read, have listened to the scare tactics of conservative religious experts about signs of the end times. Numerology is practiced in many forms to prove the correctness of their predictions and the coming bad times for all except the elect of God. As you know, the book of Revelation mentions many numbers that predict the future. None is more terrible or feared than the number 666, the mark of the beast… the epitome of horrible judgement to come on unrepentant sinners. Many are taught to fear that number and suspect it implies the hastening of the end of the world. Beware Mr. President. The number has appeared ominously. As you tout the wonderful American economy, many of your supporters look to warnings of ‘the end.’ Well here it is. Recently, the stock market fell precipitously in one day. Not a problem many say except it fell by exactly 666 points. Beware Mr. President… those who live by sound bites, dire predictions and catch phrases may see a glimpse of your true nature in of all things… the stock market numbers. Are you a disciple of Jesus Christ, as you claim? Or are you something else…? Many of us hold you in prayers and wonder. 020218.
Dear President Trump. Like a shriveled old miser you let children starve and go without education. You smugly smile for the camera at your American Caesarea by the Mar, as seniors die from lack of food, shelter and medical care. You turn away refugees at the gate… or in your case, the ‘wall’. You are content to watch them drown from overcrowded boats or die of thirst in the desert or be raped and tortured at home by puppets you prop up. All the while you and your fellow ‘Cows of Bashan’ count your coins and wrap yourself in rotting pseudo patriotism and marvelous new tax codes. Your lies disgust me. Your words barely disguise your pride and greed as your wispy hair too often reveals the reality beneath. And yet God loves you. Why? Why? Why? My hunch is because long after we mortals give up on seeing any evidence of genuine Christian acts towards those in need… minorities, students, men and women without adequate or meaningful work… God still has hope for you. God loves you… and, on my good days, I am trying to Love you too.
Dear President Trump. Happy New Year. May God love and bless and keep you. May God guide you in paths of justice, compassion and generosity towards the most vulnerable people of the world. May God grant you wisdom and strength and healing especially the healing of your fears and insecurities. Our nation needs you wise and strong and clear of heart and mind. Even as my enemy, I know it is not my job to hate you or despise you. As I try to love you, I have no need to be mean, nor crude, nor spiteful. But as I would my own children, love binds me to you in the continuing effort to be our best selves. As Christians, we are judged by our actions. My goal, with you, as it was with my children, is to make us both better humans. While love dictates that I not be cruel or mean or nasty in my words and actions, love also guides me “in paths of righteousness.” Love pushes, prods me, haunts me. Yes, I am commanded to love you. But, the goal of that love is to make you a better person, a better president. The goal of love is to cajole, encourage, yes, even demand you fulfill your duty to the poor and oppressed, the minorities and refugees, the sick and the hungry. That, then is my goal… to help you fulfill God’s command to you… to love. 01 01 18.
Dear President Trump. Merry Christmas. I was feeling all nice and warm and fuzzy after an amazing Christmas Eve service. It balanced God’s love for us with our reflecting that love by caring for the poor and oppressed and elderly and children. All week I have been sharing happy holidays or merry christmas with all sorts of people of faith, many of them with different faith traditions than mine. They respect my faith. I respect theirs. Never, ever have I not been proud and equally humbled by my ability to say merry christmas. Yet you tweet I am proud once again to say merry christmas. Makes me wonder if you have been to church lately. Or maybe you should read the constitution where it guarantees I am free to express my religious beliefs. Or are you simply inflaming a religious war for your own political gain. I pray not. I pray in the year to come you spend less time golfing and more time praying lest you forget who and whose you are. I am reminded of the preacher asked by Lyndon Johnson to pray at a formal dinner. The preacher prayed quietly over the meal. LBJ loudly commanded the preacher, “speak up, I can’t hear you.” To which the preacher replied, excuse me Mr. President, but I wasn’t praying to you. Merry Christmas Mr. President.