Where Is The Love?

Last Sunday as I sat in my church awaiting the sermon, I expected words of comfort for those of us seeking solace following the tragic events in Aurora, CO just a couple days earlier. Instead I was treated to a reminder of the difficulty all of us face to live up to challenge of being Christian.

This last week has not been a stellar one for the followers of Christ. As often happens following tragedies such as the inexplicable mass killing of movie goers at a midnight premier of the latest Batman movie, religious leaders came forth with various explanations for the shootings. Mostly, they went along the lines of the usual complaints about God not being allowed in schools, or religion being pushed out of the public square. Others took it further, blaming acceptance of gays and lesbians for a breakdown of our society. Even the usually respectable Billy Graham, who in his advanced age has grown further from his ecumenical love and respectful charm and has appeared to fall under the influence of his inept and crass eldest son, called American culture worse than Sodom and Gommorah, inferring that the shootings were somehow God's punishment for our sins.

This has sadly become the norm among Christians in America. It seems that the only difference between many of our mainstream churches and the Westboro "God Hates Fags" Baptist Church is the tactics, not the message. No wonder so many despise us.

Even those that showed some semblance of God's compassion offering prayers and remembrances for the victims missed the point. As was pointed out quite eloquently by Mother Valori from the pulpit last Sunday, where were the prayers for the shooter?

At first I was taken aback by the idea. Why should we show sympathy and love for someone who has shown such a manifestation of evil? The answer when you think about it is quite simple. Because that is exactly what we are called by Christ to do.

Christ's call for all of us is to love. Love each other as God loves you. Love your neighbor as yourself. Even love your enemies. This is the radicalness of Christ's love. The only acceptable reaction to anything or anyone for a follower of Christ is to love.

Where was the love from any of those preachers who sought out blame as an explanation for an inexplicable act? Who looked to find scapegoats and targets to attack and hold responsible? Is this what we have been called to do?

Being a Christian - that is living like Christ - is at once the simplest and most difficult thing to do. The late Catholic priest and radical activist Phillip Berrigan said "If enough Christians follow the Gospels they can bring any state to its knees." This is the power of love.

Christ commanded us to love. This is the only way we can truly practice our faith. We must meet hatred with love. And when we are beat down, shot, killed, beaten, we must show more love. For that is what it means to live like Christ.

So why are we doing such a piss poor job of it?

If I only had one wish for the media...

Only one? But there are so many things that could use changing or tweaking. False equivalency of views in an effort to seem fair, corporate control of news shows, the increasing focus on ratings rather than substance, the fourth hour of the Today Show, all the stories about side boob on the Huffington Post. You know all the things they rail against on The Newsroom.

But all of these fall to the wayside when I think about the single most outrageous thing I see in the news media and that is how they continue to equate rape and abuse with sex. It is appalling and it needs to stop.

Quite frankly I thought we had already fought and won this war a couple of decades ago. In my years as a student anti-rape activist all those idealized years ago, it seemed that I spent half my time speaking with the news media educating them on this very point. And for the most part they got it.

Fast forward to present day. I don't know if I stopped paying attention to the way media stories were reported, or things have really regressed in this area, but it seems that I can't look at news story about child trafficking, rape or other abuse without seeing a certain degree of prurient titillating equation of these horrific nightmares with sex.

Thanks to the evolution of tracking software, an increased focus by local and federal law enforcement agencies, and pressure by lobbying groups such as the National Association for the Protection of Children (protect.org), there have been an increasing number of high profile busts of child pornography and trafficking rings resulting in numerous arrests of the adult purveyors of this evil and rescues of the children enslaved in these unspeakable horrors.

The most common and shocking of the media's errors in reporting on these stories is the repeated referral to the victims of these crimes as teenage or child prostitutes. This term implies that somehow the victims of these unspeakable crimes were willful participants in the acts in which they were forced to participate. Whereas the media could refer to these children more appropriately as "teenage victims" the term prostitute is repeatedly foisted upon them, in essence victimizing them once again.

Recently, The Huffington Post inexplicably ran a story with the headline "Former Teen Prostitute's Racy Lingerie Show" complete with a picture of a young girl wearing a bikini top which looked like two facial tissues covering her small breasts. Besides wondering what the news value of this story was, the story's apparent exploitation of child slavery and its wink wink, nudge nudge tone was enough to make one sick to their stomach.

When the victims are older, the coverage is no less sensational, and even less compassionate. The recent scandal involving the systematic rape and harassment of female officers and enlisted members of the Air Force at a base in Texas offers a perfect example of this. Almost every story I read about this refers to it as the "Air Force Sex Scandal." Referring to a culture in which women are constantly subjected to the threat of rape and degradation on a daily basis, and an atmosphere where these crimes are either ignored or worse excused is not a "sex scandal." Using the word "sex" in describing this belittles the suffering these servicewomen have suffered and furthermore promotes an attitude wherein the perpetrator's actions are excused and the victims are blamed. This isn't a racy Friday night soft porn flick on Skinemax, it is a violent, devastating, dehumanizing crime and should be treated as such.

In fact, we rarely even hear the word rape anywhere in the media anymore. Instead we hear "sexual assault" or simply "assault." Rape is an ugly word, I admit. It should be an ugly word. It is an ugly crime. The word is viscerally violent and carries with it all of the pain and destruction that it denotes. Replacing it with a term that is more palatable softens the crime and lessens its impact on society.

It's time for the news media to get with the program. Stop conflating rape and sex. Stop conflating the enslavement of children with cheeky, exploitative juvenile bawdiness. Just stop. You are doing the public and yourself a disservice.

The Beauty of Hardware Stores

There is no smell quite as wonderful as the smell of a hardware store. It is a scent you will only find in a hardware store, and no Lowe's or Home Depot do not have this smell, as they arent really hardware stores As soon as you step foot inside, it hits you and for me, it brings me back.

There were really only two places I always wanted to go to with my Dad. The hardware store and the Millbrook Bread factory store. Both of these were for completely selfish reasons. At the Millbrook store, I could get a Peanuts coloring book, one of the most cherished prizes for a child in single digits. At the hardware store, it was my other most prized possession - a Tootsie Roll Pop of which the owner always kept a bag to give me and the other kids who tagged along with their fathers when they came to the store.

Everything about these trips was exciting for me. Riding in the car with my Dad in the old blue VW bus to the store in Lakeland, seeing the Winnebago parked in the driveway of the residence located behind the store, anticipating the sweet lollipop that would be mine at the end of the trip. While my dad would talk with the store owner, I would wander the aisles looking at Toro lawn mowers and Snapper trimmers, nails, drill bits, and power tools. During the 1979 World Series I even won an entire bag of Tootsie Pops from him betting on the Pirates to win it all. He was as happy handing over that bag as I was receiving it.

I had forgotten much of this from my childhood until the first time walking into the Shelby Hardware store several years ago. I had done most of my shopping for hardware and home repair items at Lowe's or the other big box stores for years, but on this one occasion I decided to go to the local hardware store to pick up an item and there it was - the smell. It took me back immediately to those cramped, dark aisles of the store in Lakeland and those trips with my Dad.

Since then, I have made it a habit to go to the local hardware store as often as I can. First it would be Shelby Hardware and now at my current house McSwain's True Value in Boiling Springs. The prices are a little bit more and you can't always find everything you need, but the service is superior and there is something you can't put a price on - the sense of community and the memories that you build when shopping at a local merchant.

Recently, a friend of mine organized a cash mob at a local merchant's store. The idea was to pick a deserving local merchant and have as many people show up at the same time and spend ten or twenty bucks to help boost their bottom line. The turnout was good and the impact was positive.

A colleague of mine couldn't attend the event, but donated $40 to it by dropping it off at my office. The mail in my office being what it is, I didn't receive it until after the event was over. I tried to return it, but my colleague told me to use it for the next one.

As things go, there hasn't been another one. The forty bucks was burning a hole in my desk drawer. So I decided to conduct an experiment with it. I would do my own cash mob by using the money only on locally owned businesses until the money was gone. I thought it wouldn't last long. I was wrong.

The money lasted almost a month. And during that month, I enjoyed fresh meats and vegetables from farmers markets, great meals at local restaurants, delicious coffee from local coffee houses, and other items from local businesses in and around my community. Not only did I enjoy wonderful things, but I met all sorts of new people, began relationships that will hopefully grow and last for years, and shared a little bit in their lives and they in mine.

I learned after planning this very article that this week is Shop Small Business week. I encourage everyone to start a new habit - spending whatever you can at a locally owned small business. Ten or twenty dollars a week may not seem like a lot, but if it is money you can reinvest in your local community rather than giving it to Starbucks or Wal Mart or Lowes, it is an investment that will go a long way toward saving jobs, families, and the very existence of your town.

Oh, and bring your kid along. You may just be planting memories that will bring a sudden smile decades from now.