Bicycling’s Unjust Risks Must Be Addressed

 I’ve been riding a bicycle in the margins, along the gutters and on the side shoulders in fear of multi-ton vehicles and distracted drivers all my adult life.

Most of the time, as I pedal my bike as an urban commuter and cross-country adventurer, I feel like a sitting duck (and, as such, I identify with folks who live with raw vulnerabilities to forces that can instantly destroy one’s life).

It’s not right. It’s not just. We can do much better.

Public roadways belong to everyone. Safe public mobility is everyone’s right. 

It’s way past time for investment of our tax dollars to change to include pedestrians and cyclists as an equal consideration in all transportation planning. 

To policy makers: you are responsible. We are watching and voting. Will you seek our input? 

To all: be a pedestrian/safe cycling advocate every chance you get. Start by slowing down, giving space, making room on the road. Go beyond. Insist on inclusive, safe mobility commitments for all elected public servants and those who serve in public bureaus/departments.

I do not own a motor vehicle. My bicycle is how I get where I need to go. I’m out there. I’m vulnerable. I’m counting on you.

Addedendum: shout out to my State Senator Andrea Hunley for her advocacy for inclusive mobility in the Indiana State Legislature. Thank you, neighbor!

To Love or Not Love the World

Recovering from a Malformed View of the World took Time

At age six, I understood why I couldn’t see ‘Mary Poppins’ in the theatre. I already knew the Fundamental Evangelical mantra: the world was evil, Hollywood and movies were the epitome of “the world,” and the Bible says “love not the world, neither anything that is in the world.” 

But I kinda liked the world. ‘Mary Poppins’ seemed good to me.

From childhood, I was taught to loathe the world and shun anything “worldly.” This was the holiness church ghetto in which I lived. It would take me years to understand that this was not normal, a deformation of a healthy worldview with a skewed moral compass.

Eventually, through some tepid—and some quite insanely risky—forays into “worldliness,” I came to appreciate, respect, regard, live in and caringly critique “the world” in which I reside as a fallen, fallible, striving neighbor.

Through encounters with authentic and loving “worldly” neighbors—those whose genuine goodness defied/defies my malformed Fundamental Evangelical moral and metaphysical constructs—I have come to embrace this world, my neighbors and my responsible role in this world as what matters most.

Greater than the warning to “love not the world” is the radical admonition of Jesus to “love your neighbor as yourself.” As we do so, the way of the hoped-for future for the world opens before us.

The Work of Christmas

 Howard Thurman suggests next steps for holiday revelers

"When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among brothers,
To make music in the heart."

from The Mood of Christmas by Howard Thurman

GK Chesterton on Christmas

The rotund English Catholic and prolific journalist/writer pumped up Christmas like few have before or since

"It is in the old Christmas carols, hymns, and traditions--those which date from the Middle Ages--that we find not only what makes Christmas poetic and soothing and stately, but first and foremost what makes Christmas exciting. The exciting quality of Christmas rests on an ancient and admitted paradox. It rests upon the paradox that the power and center of the whole universe may be found in some seemingly small matter, that the stars in their courses may move like a moving wheel around the neglected outhouse of an inn.” — G. K. Chesterton

Attempting Ramadan Fast Again

I tried this a few years ago and made it just ten days

So, here we go. I’m trying to join Muslim neighbors down the street and around the world to fast during the month of Ramadan.

I tried this a few years ago and made it just ten days. The manner in which Muslims fast is hard. There is no comparison to any Christian fast, at least that I know of.

The deal is, of course, that one eats and drinks before sunrise, does not eat or drink anything—including water—all day, and then eats and drinks after sunset each day for thirty days. 

All this is done while going about one’s normal work and play.

If that doesn’t sound so difficult, try it.

As I write this, I am in my second day of Ramadan fasting. It’s 4:45 pm and I have close to four hours left before food and drink are possible.

I am not fasting for spiritual reasons. But if some spiritual breakthrough happens, great.

I am fasting Ramadan...

Because I didn’t make it past ten days a few years ago. 

Because it intrigues me. 

Because it is hard. 

Because in my Christian tradition we don’t attempt such a serious fast or “blessed subtraction” (as my New Testament Professor Morris Weigel referred to it).

Because I want to learn more and identify more with my Muslim neighbors, friends, and associates.

And because my Muslim next door neighbor’s teenage son is pumped that I am going to try to observe. I cannot let him down, though I told him I had not completed the Ramadan fast once before. He seems intrigued that a sixty-year-old Christian neighbor would do this.

We’ll see how this goes.

Ramadan Mubarak!

Lent, Day 24: Navigating the Back Stretch

 The end of Lent is not in sight, though the halfway post has been passed

I’ve run a handful of local half marathons—the 500 Festival Mini Marathon and the Monumental Half Marathon. I talk about running a full marathon, but have not yet made the commitment or carved out the time and discipline necessary to prepare for it. Participating in these events has taught me that navigating the second half—the back stretch—is critical for completion. I relate that to the second half of Lent.

For me, the first half of a 13.2-mile run is mostly invigorating and hopeful. I’m surrounded by many like-hearted runners, fans shout and wave, the terrain is familiar, I’m not winded, and my mind is not playing tricks on me. 

But not long after the halfway post, things start to change—deteriorate, really. After 6.6 miles, everything gets serious. At first, I say to myself: “That first half was easy enough. The finish line can’t be far.” But, of course, it’s still just as far away and I am beginning to feel some fatigue. There are few encouragers along the roadside. The terrain is unfamiliar. I feel every pound of the pavement. Parts of my body begin to ache a bit. And each next mile marker—8...9...10—seems to take forever to appear. I try to hang with a small pod of runners at my slowing pace.

Mind games and self doubt escalate. “How long is this thing?” “Why did I sign up for this.” “What’s the point, anyway?” “I just can’t make it.” I talk my myself down from fatigue, anxiety, and the temptation to quit. “Finishing is going to feel so good!” “You started well; you will finish well.” “Shut up legs! Just do what I tell you!”

I struggle until about the 11-mile mark. Just a little over 2 more miles to the finish. “I can make it. I can take it.” And I do! And it is all worth it!

Day 24 of a Lenten fast is, to me, like mile 8 in a half marathon. The novelty has worn off. Each compatriot is fighting his or her own struggle. The cheers are few. It’s put you head down and grit it out time. It’s doing battle with bodily protests and mind games that challenge the very fast itself.

There’s every indication in the Gospel story that Jesus’ temptations in his wilderness fasting occurred after he was exhausted and hungry and vulnerable. It’s also when he countered each temptation with ancient wisdom and words.

Hang in there. Get into the struggle. Persevere through the early second half. Keep you eyes on the prize. I’m cheering for you. And we are not alone.

Pandemic Anniversary: Why Did American Leadership Wait So along?

 March 11, 2020 was the official shutdown day, but it should have been much earlier

By this day last year, I had been following alarming citizen Twitter accounts in Wuhan since early in January 2020. They graphically revealed devastation. My anxiety was off the charts. By March, these Twitter accounts were methodically being shut down.

There is not a single Twitter account remaining of nearly 100 from Wuhan that I started to follow in January 2020 to track the craziness of the disease and ground-level responses to it. Most were gone by the end of March 2020.

Why did America wait so long to respond? The handwriting was on the wall—in science and all over social media.

America could have—and should have—shut down long before March 11, 2020, in order to prevent loss of life and contain the disease. The intel was there. The science was there. The devastation in China was on social media. Our national leadership was either asleep at the wheel or in full denial mode.

Did America’s vast taxpayer-funded international intelligence resources—CIA, NSA, etc.—fail to alert the Trump regime of the dramatic growth and devastation of COVID19? Or, did Trump ignore or suppress it? 

Over 515,000 citizen deaths later, Americans deserve to know fully exactly what happened.