A Theist Conversation

Nov 29, 2014

I have a friend who is an atheist. Her name is Julie Orr and I was very excited when I heard that she had a desire to read the Bible.  Being an atheist, she approached it from an academic / intellectual / anthropological point of view.  It was not her goal to grow closer to God, but rather to learn more about a book that many uneducated people seem to cling to.  I committed to reading it with her in a year (2011) and the emails we exchanged during that year have been compiled into a book that we titled, "A Theist Conversation".

A print copy can be ordered from CreateSpace at https://www.createspace.com/5034385

A Kindle version can be ordered from: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00Q8WOV40

(it can be also be found on Amazon.com)

My swiss army knife and me.

Ever since I can remember, I have owned a pocket knife.  I am pretty sure that one of my first knives was a cub scout pocket knife. Not too much unlike this one:

What I would not give to still have that old knife.  It was not long before I graduated to a swiss army knife.  For the uninformed (and any one that has never watched MacGyver), the swiss army knife is a mulit-purpose knife with a large blade and a variety of other tools which usually include a screwdriver and can opener.  In the late 1800's, Switzerland's army began distributing such knives to it's officers - and thus the Swiss Army Knife was born.  Over the years, it's utility and variety of available tools has made it synonymous with versatility.  A coworker was once asked to do a job that was outside his normal skill set and range of responsibility.  He answered, "I am a Swiss Army Knife - I can do anything."  Indeed, the Swiss Army Knife is sometimes lampooned for the variety of functions it can perform.

  

Most everyone knows about the swiss army knife in general, but only the discerning know about the "Original" vs "Genuine" distinction.  Early on, I discovered that the knife's popularity had spawned many cheap imitators.  I also noticed that quality ones had a crossbow (not an umbrella like I thought at first) engraved on the bottom of the main blade.  They would also say "OFFICER SUISSE" and many would have "VICTORIA" engraved on it as well.

I soon learned that this was the mark of a Victorinox and that there was another "real" swiss army knife made by Wenger.

 
It turns out they are both real swiss army knives (but this can be said for only those two brands).  Victorinox is branded as the "Original Swiss Army Knife" and Wenger is the "Genuine Swiss Army Knife".  I gravitated toward Victorinox as the superior brand much the same as Coke is better than Pepsi.  As if the superior design of the Victorinox can opener over the lesser Wenger version was not enough and the fact that Victorinox later aquired Wenger and mercifully allowed them to keep their brand....as if these two facts were not enough, the clincher is that MacGyver used a Victorinox in all but 3 of the 97 episodes where a swiss army knife was employed.  Inconceivable as it sounds, there were 42 episodes where he did not use a knife at all.  It seems that he favored the Spartan.

This brings me to my preferred model.  Boy Scouts and Swiss Army Knives go together like peanut butter and chocolate.  Each is wonderful on their own, but together they are amazing.  I like to carry the Huntsman.

The stock Huntsman has a corkscrew.  The Boy Scouts figured that 12-18 years did not really need to open anything that was hidden behind a cork, so they wisely replaced it with a phillips head screwdriver.  The other two tools that make this model stand out are the saw (what self respecting Boy Scout does not need a saw from time to time) and the scissors.  Ah, the scissors - those glorious scissors.  It is that which inspired me to write today's entry.  Before I get to my scissor story, let me tell you about my Huntsman.

My knife has been put to good use and well tested.  I have used from the backwoods to the front office and everywhere in between.  Some where along the way, I noticed it was getting a little grimy.  What better way to clean it than put it in boiling water to remove all the impurities?  Appearanlty, boiling water considered the glue holding the red plastic covering to the metal to be an impurity - and away it went.  For several years, my poor little knife was half naked.  Red covered on one side and naked on the other.  Finally I restored its dignity and glued the other side back on.  I can easily tell my warped sided little buddy from any other look-alikes.

Back to the scissors.  One of the most frequent uses of my swiss army knife is clipping my fingernails with the scissors.  They just work so much better than any cuticle scissors or fingernail clippers that I have come across.  Over the past couple of weeks, my nails have reached the stage of needing some attention.  My knife occasionally likes to play hide and seek from me and has eluded me for several weeks now.  It does this from time to time but always comes back to me.  This time, however, I was starting to become desperate.  After looking in all my pockets and my gym bag and my car and my bedside, I still could not find it.  If I did not do something soon, I would have to paint my nails.  To quote that great maritime philosopher (Popeye): "I've had all me can stands and me can't stands no more". In desperation I stole borrowed my wife's nail kit.  The clippers just would not give the satisfying "click" sound as they broke through...because they wouldn't break through.  I tried the little scissors.  The just slipped around the nail side ways like a piece paper sliding through children's safety scissors.  Then it hit me.  I had the perfect idea.  I dashed to the closet and pulled out the shoe box.  You know the one.  The one with my grandfather's watch, my set of Superman collecting cards, my Eagle Scout ribbon,  my pinewood derby car, and other such prized possessions.  I opened it up and rummaged through it.  There it was.  The object of my search.  My SwissChamp.  The one my mother had bought for me IN SWITZERLAND when she took me as a 12 year old.  I know the Huntsman will turn up soon.  I am not worried.  But today, the SwissChamp, that 3.5" beauty with all of its 33 various tools, would save the day.  I found the scissors and trimmed my nails to manicured perfection.  My swiss army knife did not let me down...and it never has.

Mr. Cheerful

If you know much about Atlanta, you know that Interstates 75 and 85 go right through the middle of it.  The two interstates are like two wires wrapped around each other but separated on either end.  The twisted part in the middle is in the heart of Atlanta and is known as "the connector" which runs North and South.  Intersecting perpendicularly, and running East and West,  is Interstate 20.  The convergence of all these interstates creates quite a traffic snarl on most mornings.  Travelling from West to East and then merging North onto the connector can take a quite a while, especially in the mornings.  With all those cars backed up, it has a prime place for the homeless to look for a little good will from the daily commuters.  For the better part of the last 20 years, this is the guy that me and several thousand other commuters would see nearly every day:

Although I never knew his name, I was always fascinated by him.  He was always smiling or waving or saluting.  From what I saw from my car window, he always appeared fresh and clean.  Never dirty or disheveled. His cheerful demeanor was uplifting.  The fact that he was so cheerful despite what must have been difficult circumstances often encouraged me to smile through my own trials.  Just seeing him brightened my day.

Some say you should never give handouts since it is a positive reinforcement and a discouragement for hard work at an honest job.  Other say the homeless are human beings just like you and me and deserve the same respect and occasional helping hand that we would hope to receive.  That is a worthy debate to have, but it is not the purpose of this post.  In fact, on some days I would get in "his" lane so that I could give him a sandwich or a few dollars.  On other days I would get in the right lane just so I would not feel pressured to give him anything.

He is certainly not the only homeless guy in Atlanta.  In fact, in the past few months he was one of three or four in the same small area.  I was forced to do more than a little introspection when I found that it was much easier to turn a blind eye to the unshaven and dirty sad looking guys than to Mr. Clean & Cheerful. What makes it so easy to be drawn to this guy and so easy to look past those around him?  I'm afraid the answer likely reveals a darker part of human nature.

In the past few years, I have discovered a shortcut that would take me on some side streets and get me on to the connector much faster than those that drove past Mr. Cheerful.  Although I would no longer drive past him, I would look across the way just see if he was still over there.  He always was.  Occasionally, I would do Google searches to see if I could find anything out about him.  I thought surely someone else was enthralled with him as I was.  Nothing ever came up.

Last week I happened to go the way of Mr. Cheerful and saw this:

There was no traffic that day, so there was no Mr. Cheerful.  I found the display curious and feared the worst.  A few days later, I went that way on purpose and found a new guy in the same spot.  After giving him a few dollars, I asked him what happened to "that" guy (pointing to the display against wall).  I was told that while he was sleeping in that very spot in his tent, a DUI truck left the road and ran right into him as he slept.  He died on the spot.  A news story confirmed the account.  The memorial showed that I was not the only one that would miss Mr. Cheerful.  I contacted the writer of the news story and learned that the man's name was Johnny Johnson Jr.  I also learned that a group named MOTION had helped Johnny and others for years.  They were the ones that first broke the news of Johnny's death.  Although his obituary was rather brief, the comments were a testament to the fact than there were many people, like me, that were daily encouraged by a complete stranger.  I will miss him even though I never really knew him.  I never knew him by Johnny until after his death. His death is a reminder that each of the homeless are more than just a problem to solve, more than just a beggar - they are a fellow human being with a name - even if we never  know it.

On the Big Bang

3/22/2014

I was born in 1971 and from childhood was taught about how God created the world (and the universe)  in seven days and many years later instructed Noah to build an ark in preparation for a flood that covered the earth.  From the beginning, I have accepted this as fact.  I have never confused it with the fables of Paul Bunyan, the fantasy of Leprechauns,  or the mythology of Zeus.  God, creation, and the ark were fact while Buynan,  Leprechauns, and Zeus were not.  I later learned that the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus were made up but that never shook my faith in God or the stories of Adam and Eve.

In 1983, I entered 7th grade with Mrs. Vance as my science teacher.  She was reluctantly obligated to tell us about the “theory of evolution” as one of the explanations of the origin of man.  Now at this point I know that some readers are already pounding their fist and shouting “It’s not a theory!  It’s proven fact.”  Nevermind the fact we still refer to the “theory of a relativity” (as opposed to “the principal -or the law- of relativity”).  Also nevermind the fact that Geometry abounds with theories.  It was simply taught to me as the “theory of evolution” from day one.  Mrs. Vance was clearly somewhat skeptical about it and would clearly rather not mention it.   The State of Georgia Public School System, however, felt otherwise.  So I was taught that man came from apes which came from fish which came from a sea on a planet which came from a big explosion (or bang).  The Big Bang was instant and was followed by millions of years of evolution.  It was not long before I accepted gravity and the periodic table of elements as scientific fact and the Big Bang and evolution as … well as something closer to Leprechauns.  Many years later as an adult I watched the 1968 version of “The Planet of the Apes” and thoroughly enjoyed it as fictional entertainment.  My wife, however, would not even watch it because she was raised to be even more dismissive of evolution than I was.  The very idea of apes being humanlike was too close to evolution which was too close to heresy.   In my late teens and early twenties, I saw several shirts, bumper stickers, and the like that said “I believe in the Big Bang theory.  God spoke and ‘Bang’ it happened.”.  This was meant to be a clever play on words that confirmed creationism and denounced the Big Bang.  

I have become increasingly dismayed to see science and religion pitted against each other as adversaries.  Many on both sides treat the two as mutually exclusive.  To me both have their appeal.  Science claims to forever be searching for the truth and willing to discard in an instant any idea that no longer holds water.  Religion claims to already know the truth and to be unshaken by the latest fad theory.    Some fear that too much attention to science breeds a society without morals and leads to abortions on demand.  Others fear that too much attention to religion breeds dogmatic ignorance and leads to the bombing of abortion clinics.  Some say religion is fine for feeding the poor and counseling the grieving, but should stay away from explanations of our origin.  Others say science is fine for creating more fuel efficient cars and curing cancer, but should stay away from explanations of our origin.  I, however, find myself in the middle.  I think the two increasingly support the other.  The only reason I care about creation at all is that it came from the Bible.  In general, the BC part of the Bible is less important to me than the AD part of the Bible.  While I discern a difference between the stories of Zeus as fiction versus the stories of Noah as fact, I do not discern a difference between Adam and Jesus as regards historicity.  Consider the statement: “I am 42 years old and am the President of the United States”.  It is not accurate.  At least not completely.  The fact that I am NOT the President of the United States does not invalidate the the fact that I AM 42 years old.  Many people view the Bible like this.  Part of it (such as the stories of Jesus) is true and part (such as stories of creation) is not.  While that is certainly possible and logical, it is also troubling.  If I were on the witness stand and made the above statement, it might be said that it brings into doubt the credibility of the witness.   In other words, if the Bible is wrong about creation, what else might it be wrong about?  Who is to say which is which?  This is the reason Christians are so adamant about creation.    

During my college years the term “Intelligent Design” began to gain favor over “Creationism”.  This seemed to be a peace offering from the religious side.  It was a way to say there is likely some intelligent force that engineered the universe with intent without having to mention a name for this intelligent force or spell out what thing was created on what day.  It took advantages of verses in the Bible that say that to God one day is like a thousand years (calling into question the 168 hour version of creation) and discounting the need to quibble over young earth or old earth views. It also allowed the religious to embrace (or at least accept) the idea of the Big Bang and still maintain their view of what initiated the bang.  What was once an opposing argument was now a supporting one.  The juxtaposition has continued from then until now.  This was most striking when just a few days ago news broke that a team of astronomers at the South Pole led by John Kovac discovered, through the BICEP2 experiment, ripples of primordial gravitational waves that came from Big Bang itself.  These waves support the idea of cosmic inflation which says the universe went from subatomic size to a trillion trillion times that in less than second.  I almost laughed out loud when I discovered that both science and religion seemed to be shouting “See! I told you so.”.

As for me, I first thought the Big Bang was just myth.  Then I thought it confirmed my religious beliefs.  Now, when I hear about the the Big Bang theory,  I mainly just think of the zany antics of Sheldon Cooper and his friends.

Snowjam 2014

3/15/2014

For those that lived in metro Atlanta and drove in January 2014,  Tue Jan 28 was a day not soon forgotten.  Everyone has a story about that day.  This is mine.

Tue: The general forecast had been that a bad snowstorm was coming in but it would not arrive until Tue night...probably after the evening rush hour.  Since the it was coming so late in the day I decided to drive to the 50 miles to work.  Around luchtime, I convinced myself that I should go ahead and leave to beat all the other folks that might panic and leave early themselves (I, of course, was not panicking...I was being strategic).  I had recently been using a new app on my smartphone called Waze.  It differed from other GPS/navigation apps in that it relied heavily on reports from other users and (more importantly) it consistently recommended better (i.e. faster)  routes if it detected a change in traffic.  Most apps give you choices before you start and then stick with that choice the whole trip.  Normally I have two main routes that take me from Johns Creek to Douglasville.  Most days, I take Peachtree Industrial south to I-285 then west around to I-20 and then west to Douglasville.  One this day, Waze and the traffic reports seem to suggest my other route would be better: Peachtree Industrial south to I-285 then east around to I-85 and then south to I-20 and then west to Douglasville.  I did not even make it I-285 before Waze was suggesting alternate routes.  I figured, I have plenty of time, so why not.  I started meandering on generally southern direction toward downtown Atlanta bypassing the interstates all together.  It was not long before I found the back roads as crowded (if not more so) than the interstates.  I continued cutting through neighborhoods and sections of town I had never seen in over 30 years of driving in and around Atlanta.  Traffic came to a standstill.  Traffic lights would go from red to green to yellow and back to red with no movement whatsoever.  My fuel was starting to run low and giant sweet tea from Taco Bell combo #3 was coming back to haunt me.  I finally made it to a gas station and filled up on gas.  As it was filling up, I ran inside to use their restroom.  The guy said he did have one. I said “Come on. Really.  I gotta go.  Where do you go?”.  He said they went to the hospital across the street.  Not willing to leave my car and hike to another building, I resigned myself to plan B.  The tea came in a large cup...which was now empty … and had a large opening … with a replaceable lid.   Problem solved.  The tank was now full and my bladder was now empty.  Back on the road.  Ever so slowly, I made it down through the Carter Center area and was about to get on the interstate near International Blvd.  Making no progress and this being my last chance to escape, I decided to get out of line and go downtown and wait it out at restaurant or shopping center.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.  I pulled into the first parking deck I came to.   It was now about 4:00pm.  Four hours to go 26 miles.  That is good time … if you are running a marathon; not so much for driving.  I walked upstairs to see what was going on.  There a lot of workers waiting just inside for the bus to come.  Snow was already on the ground and the roads were getting worse by the minute.  I should also mention that my phone battery was running low and my charger was in the other car.  I decided to cross the street and walk over to the Peachtree Plaza to sit for a while.  I brought with me my laptop which was also running low on battery.  Just for curiousity, I looked online to see if they had any rooms.  They did not.  As matter of a fact, there were no rooms in Atlanta.  My sister was online so I begin chatting online with her as well as my wife.  My sister was finally able to find a hotel about 1 mile away.  After mulling it over, I finally decided to go to the hotel.  She was also gracious enough to pay for it as I was having what my dad would call a “cash flow” problem.  This occurs when money is coming it shortly but not quite yet there when it is needed.  So I walked a mile through the snow to the Savannah Suites hotel on the corner of Pine and Courtland.  It just so happened to be next door to a homeless shelter.  Once I checked in, I turned on the TV and watched the non-stop coverage of the traffic nightmare that had ensnared all of Atlanta.  It seems that everyone thought the same as me and left the same time as me (except of course they were panicking whereas I was being strategic).   Stories were later told of children having to stay on at their school overnight and worse yet, some had to stay in their school bus overnight.  Likewise, many folks were stuck in in the cars on the interstate.  They saw the sun set and then rise again without moving.  While some stayed in the their cars, many abandoned them and sought shelter elsewhere.  That just made things worse.  Once I tired of the news, I watched a movie and went to bed.  

Wed: The next morning I got up and turned on the news.  Same story.  All the roads were jammed.  There was a state of emergency declared by Governor Deal.  All the local channels were covering the story 24/7.  Many of those reporters had been forced to stay at the station overnight - since the roads were effectively closed.  I had removed the battery from my phone and laptop to conserve power.  I replaced the battery for each and powered them up.  I told my work folks I would be offline the remainder of the day.  I called Kathleen and discussed what I should do next.  I decided to wait until 9:00 and walk into town to see if the banks were open.  Then I could get some cash (since I did not have a card for the account that did have cash), buy some food, and then maybe get my car and drive home.  I got to the bank around 9:30 and found that it was closed. I knew this was possibility, but I was hoping that maybe some its workers were local and could have walked in or taken the subway.  No such luck.  Some of the buildings were open so I went in to stay warm and wondered around.  Many of the lobbies connected from one building to the next via bridges and tunnels.  Some of the buildings had large foyers with seating and others had food courts that also had plenty of seating...and wifi.  I was starting to get hungry and made was beginning to weigh my options.  I had about $12 of mad money to spend.  I meandered around until I came to the Marriott which had a very nice restaurant with a long line out front.  I figured I would wait in line and then get something like an orange juice and maybe a croissant.  It appears there was a convention in town and most of the folks were from there.  When I finally got to the front I found out that it was an all you can eat buffet for $30!  There was no menu or ala carte option.  I politely excused myself and found my way to a CVS nearby.  This had both an upstairs and downstairs but all the food was upstairs.  I wandered up and down the few food aisles trying to decide how to best spend my $12.  During this time, I saw another guy come in grab the food he needed and head to the checkout.  What drew my attention was that he had the appearances of a stereotypical homeless person.  Namely, he had a long scraggly beard and was wearing a worn out jacket and backpack.  It also struck me that he was white.  Atlanta has plenty of homeless folks but most all of them are black.  This is not to associate blacks with homelessness but rather a fact that the Atlanta population is majority black and some of those are homeless.  So this white homeless person, at least in my experience, was an anomaly.  Of course, he may have just been a Duck Dynasty fan sporting a backpack downtown.  I don’t really know.  Obviously, he made an impression on me for some reason or another.  I finally decided that my $12 would best be spent on a box of granola bars, a few small packages of peanut butter, a sub sandwich, and a bottle of gatorade.  I divided the sandwich into thirds for the next three meals with the peanut butter covered granola bars as snacks.  I packed my purchases into my computer bag I had brought with me and headed out.  After checking on my car, I walked through the snow back to the hotel.  In the hotel parking lot, a man approached me - presumably from the nearby shelter.  I told him I did not have any money to give him.  Offended, he asked why I just assumed he wanted money without hearing from him first.  I excused myself and kept on walking.  Once inside the hotel parking lot, their security guard asked me for my ID.  I showed it to him and quickly confirmed from his clipboard that I was indeed a guest and thus allowed me to proceed.  This was the first hotel where I had ever been carded prior to entry.  Back in my room, I ate the first of my remaining three “meals”.  I watched more of SnowJam news coverage, a few movies, and read from the Quran that was giving me on Mon at a diversity event in my office.  Then I went to bed.

Thu: The next morning, I ate another of my meals and watched more SnowJam coverage.  It is amazing that they covered non-stop for 3 days.  I used the last bit of my phone charge and computer charge to contact my wife and arrange to meet her at the subway train station.  I did a few indoor exercises, showered, packed, and headed out.  I walked back into town, boarded the subway and rode to meet wife.  She picked me up and we drove back into the city.  We used the cash that she brought to pay to get my car released.  Driving home, the roads looked like scenes from the apocalyptic tv show my son likes to watch.  Between Atlanta and Douglasville, there were at least 100 cars (temporarily) abandoned on the side of the road.  Once home, I learned that my sons had spent the previous day helping folks escape the icy hills at our neighborhoods entrance.  After getting a little refreshed, I logged on a worked the remainder of the day.  The next day I was back at work.

Upside Down

2/1/2014

It probably wasn't until after college that I finally started to pay attention and learn the difference between conservative and liberal, republican and democrat, right wing and left wing, red state and blue state.  Over time I came to understand that the views I had always held seem to align most closely with the right wing conservative world view.  One way I taught myself to remember it is the right is right and left is wrong.  Being born and raised in the Georgia in the 70’s and 80’s, my views (not surprisingly) matched those around me.  Like many people, I just sorta assumed that the whole world held the same values as I did.  This included a Christian worldview that taught right and wrong and to love others and treat them with respect.  I was taught that homosexuality was wrong, but that we should hate the sin and love the sinner.  I was taught the 10 commandments and told they still apply today.  I was taught that Jesus and God were one in the same and all prayers were said in Jesus’ name.  I was taught that the Bible was the inerrant word of God and that earth was around 6,000 years old. Period.  None of these concepts were questioned.  They were just understood.  Although I was Southern Baptist, I knew the Methodists across the street were a little different, but still ok.  Jews were almost ok, but they really missed out on not recognizing Jesus as the Messiah.  I never gave much thought to Muslims, Hindus, Ba’hai, or any one else.  If I did think of any other religion (or ,gasp, Atheist), it was that they were very confused and just plain wrong.  Without Jesus, they were going to Hell.  My beliefs were held by just about everyone around me.  I did not know anyone that strayed from that central line of thought.  Speaking of non-diversity, mine was a pretty monochromatic community.  Almost everyone was white.  There were blacks but we never interacted very much.  I never thought ill of them.  I didn’t hate them.  I just never dealt with them much.  As far as Mexicans, Indians, or other races, there were none to be found.  I say all of the above to say that I have spent a good portion of my life being in the majority.  

I have to say that being in the majority is rather nice.  Your traditions, views, and values are just accepted and never really challenged.  Being in the majority racially, it really makes an impression on you on those rare occasions when you went somewhere and, gasp, you were the only white person there.  It happened so rarely, that when it did happen, it was hard not to notice.  It was not so much a cause for concern, but just something to notice.  

That was over 30 years ago.  Since then, the tables have turned.  I am now in the minority.  If not racially, then at least ideologically.  My workplace has people from a wide range of backgrounds, most notably India...many of whom are Hindu’s.  I have no real complaints about the ethnic and racial changes I have seen take place.  My real regret is the loss of prominence of my worldview.  My vice president at my job is openly gay and has spoken about it publicly in diversity panels that are held at my workplace.  Manger scenes are no longer allowed in many public places.  ‘Merry Christmas’ has been replaced with ‘Happy Holidays’.  Prayer is not allowed at schools (thanks in large part to a case started by a student in my county while I was in high school - a case that went to the U.S. Supreme Court).  Gay Marriage is considered a Civil Right.  It is offensive to express views that in any way suggest that Jesus is the Messiah, the son of God and the one and only way to salvation.  It is also equally offensive to suggest there is anything wrong with homosexuality or Gay Marriage.  

As you may have discerned, I still hold to the values I was taught at an early age.  Some other time I may speak to why I believe these values still have merit, but for now I am focusing on their loss of prominence.  One of the prevailing views is that we are to be tolerant of others.  Somehow this has come to mean that we are to accept all views as equal (even when they are contradictory).  Well, almost all views.  Today’s society would say that the views that I hold to are those of an intolerant, ignorant, hateful, racist, homophobic redneck who refuses to change.  Society is grateful that those such as myself are growing smaller in number and, with any luck, will soon just die off with old age.  I don’t hate anyone and am certainly not racist nor homophobic (nor ignorant...but I might be a little redneck).  I am very disturbed, however, with the way my ilk are commonly portrayed.  Watching main stream TV has become troubling to me, not just because of the violence and lack of morals, but more specifically the way the religious are shown.  It is almost never in a positive light.  If it is not a money hungry crooked televangelist, then it is either parents that abuse their kids in the name of religion, a misguided youth who hears troubling things from God, or a sweet old grandmother who clings to an outdated set of traditions and beliefs.  It is never seen has normal or mainstream to go to church on Sunday and have a mostly functional family.  I am not just bemoaning the evils of TV, but rather the reversal of “the norm” as portrayed by TV, the media, and society at large.

While I don’t expect us to return to the days of “The Andy Griffith Show” or “Leave it to Beaver”, it certainly would not bother me if we did.  I mainly just wanted to say that I am now starting to understand how blacks, gays, and atheists have felt for years.   I am learning what it is like to be guarded with my speech and to be careful what I say to whom.  I am seeing more and more what is like to be the minority.  Mainly, I am just longing for the days when things were right side up.

* post script - I wrote all of the above in Feb 2014. I would like to add two additional points.
1) It is without doubt that even in the 70's and 80's in my little southern town I was surrounded by diversity of all kind and did not know it. Being in the majority meant that I was blissfully unaware of the minorities that were around me.
2) While I do indeed miss being a majority and I believe that in most cases the majority should rule, I would never support any kind of abuse or hatred of the minority - which I must say is completely different from supporting and promoting every minority viewpoint that comes along. It is in fact possible to love and respect those of different stripes without marching behind their flag.

Transformed

1/11/2014

There is a guy where I work named John Smith.  He is the manager in another department.  I only have to talk to him occasionally.  When I do, it might be every day for a couple of weeks and then several months before I have to work with him again.  He is good at what he does and easy to work with.  We seem to get along ok, but only ever talk about work.

One day, I needed his help after no interactions with him in many months. So I tried to send him an instant message over our company’s network.  He was not on there.  That’s kinda weird, but maybe the network was down.  I tried the next day.  Same thing.  OK. Maybe he doesn’t connect to instant messaging anymore.  I will send him an email.  He is not in email directory.  Let me check the alternate phone and seating directory.  No there either.  He must have left the company.  Since I am not in his department, there is nothing unusual about me not knowing that he would have left.  So, I decide to look up his former subordinates and see who they now report to.  It seems they now report to Jane Smith.  What a coincidence!  The new manager has the same last name as the old manager.

Before going to meet Jane and ask her for her help, I talk to one of my coworkers in my own department who used to work with John much more closely than I did.  I asked if he had heard that John had left the company.  He told me that John had not left.  I am now totally confused.  

You may guess where this is going based on the title I gave it, but before I continue with John and Jane, let me tell you more about me.

I am one of those raised-in-the-south evangelical Southern Baptists Christians that sided with Chik-Fil-A, the Boy Scouts, and Duck Dynasty. I supported DOMA.  I believe in the adage that recommends you “hate the sin and love the sinner” which shows that I believe 1) there is such a thing as sin and 2) homosexuality is one.  I am believe it can be “cured” with counseling.  I know that to many, that makes me an outdated, uneducated, homophobe suffering from cognitive dissonance.

While I do not see gay rights as an extension of the civil rights from the 1960’s, I can certainly see that it has moved across our culture in a similar manner.  I am repulsed by racist ideology and can not fathom how someone’s skin color can determine their worth.  The very ideas of segregation, slavery and apartheid are an enigma to me.  So too is the link that is drawn between gay rights and civil rights and yet the movements are strikingly similar.  Not long ago, I watched “Guess Who Is Coming To Dinner” from 1967 which chronicles two affluent families trying to cope with the idea of a mixed race marriage.  The overall implication was that society was moving forward with new ideas about race and each of us could move forward as well or be left behind in the past.  I graduated high school in 1989 and was very unaware of any gay rights movement.  While the practice is thousand’s of years old, it’s acceptance is not.  It is remarkable to me in just 25 years how public perception has been transformed.  I love to listen to public radio except for the fact that they overwhelming condemn any person not forward enough to openly embrace homosexualtiy as a genetic fact and not a choice.  Many of the shows I watch on TV often portray religious people in a negative light.  The word ‘homophobe’ is attached to anyone that dares to disagree with the cause of gay rights.  Anyone labeled as such can expect the same condemnation as someone labeled ‘racist’.  Some other time I would like to discuss why this offends me and the intolerance of the tolerant.  Suffice it to say that my views are rapidly becoming outdated and unpopular.  Many corporations have fallen in line and added “sexual orientation and transgender status” to the litany of discriminations guarded against in their Equal Employment Opportunity statement.  Such companies may also hold seminars from time to time in order to encourage employees to better understand and accept those that fall into such categories.  Mine is one such company.  The vice president over our department (my boss’s boss’s boss’s boss) is openly gay and once spoke at such a seminar.

This brings us back to John and Jane and the point that my company strongly supports ideas that I do not.  

When I asked my coworker what he meant, he said that John now goes by Jane.  After pressing him to some degree to explain he showed me an email that he had received several weeks prior.  It said that our company supports gender identity of it’s employees and that John has now decided to identify as female and was to be treated as such for now forward.  The email was only sent to those that worked closely with John and was not to be forwarded or copied.

I was shocked to say the least.  John never seemed any different to me before and gave no indication that he was not comfortable with his born gender.  He was not feminine or effeminate in any way that I could discern.

I spoke with a few other coworkers that I knew worked with John and they were equally surprised.  While most of them tend to support the same ‘homophobic’ views as I do, the general consensus was “whatever floats your boat”.  

I decided to do a “drive by”.  Jane works on a different floor so I walked down to her floor.  I walked by her office and looked in quickly and kept walking.  Sure enough, to quote Aerosmith, “Dude Looks Like A Lady”.  Jane was wearing a long haired wig and a women’s blouse.  She also had some flowers on her desk and a purse in the corner.

I had confirmed that John was now Jane.  Whatever I thought of the transformation did not change the fact that I needed to work with her to get my job done.  The next day, I sent her an instant message.  After chatting for few minutes, it became clear that I needed to go to her office to work side by side.  The conversation suddenly went silent.  I then informed her that I was aware of her recent change.  After she consented, I went down to her office.

Looking at her face to face, I noticed that, not surprisingly, she had the exact same features as John.  She was John.  Except now she is Jane.  Not knowing what to say, I begin to immediately talk about the work issue, completely ignoring the elephant in the room.  She helped me with what I needed and I was on my way.

I related the meeting to the previous mentioned coworkers.  Only one expressed dismay and the others were more bewildered than anything.  I found myself in the very odd positioning of not so much defending or condoning what John had done, but rather encouraging my peers to accept it and move on.  I began to use the name “Jane” exclusively as well as feminine pronouns.

Several weeks passed and another occasion arose for a face to face meeting.  This time I took a coworker with me that I was training.  On the way down, I asked if he had ever met John Smith.  He said no, so I just said to nevermind.  I did not see a need to inform him that a guy he never met was now dressed like a girl.  We went down, conducted our business and left.  My coworker never mentioned anything about it, so neither did I.  

A few days after that, I went down there again, but this time by myself.  As we sat there working on our project it occurred to me that Jane had the exact same speech pattern and mannerisms as John.  There was no change in voice.  If I closed my eyes, I would never know that something was amiss.

This is when it hit me.  Jane was still the same person as before.  She deserved the same normal human respect as before and the same respect due to anyone.  I did not feel ill will toward her what so ever.  In fact, I felt compassion.  John felt so out of place, so misunderstood, and so conflicted, that the best way he saw fit to address it was to cross genders and identify with the opposite gender.  He was willing to risk everything not the least of which was exclusion from his friends and family to present himself in a different way.  That requires some pretty strong feelings of desperation to go through with it.

Don’t get me wrong.  I still don’t think it is right or normal or ok.  But on the other hand, it doesn’t really matter what I think.  It only matters what Jane thinks.  For me to come to this conclusion was rather a shock.  It seems that John was not the only one that was transformed.