Gardener

A Few of my “Bests” from 2011 Best Fiction: · Olive Kitteridge and Abide with Me by Elizabeth Stroud · Hannah Coulter and A World Lost by Wendell Berry State of Wonder by Ann Padgett Best Non-fiction: · Desiring the Kingdom by James A. K. Smith · Eaarth: Making a Life on a Tough New Planet by Bill McKibbon · Abraham Kuyper: A Short and Personal Introduction by Richard Mouw · Mountain beyond Mountain by Tracy Kidder · Not Sure: A Pastor’s Journey from Faith to Doubt by John Suk Best Movies (Most of them from Netflix) · Incendies directed by Denis Vilenueve · In a Better World directed by Susanne Bier · Brighton Rock directed by Rowan Joffe · The Tree of Life directed by Terrance Malick · Of Gods and Men directed by Xavier Beauvois

I am a Christian. I have lived in America my entire life, and I have never experienced discrimination because of my Christian beliefs. Oh, I have received “looks” from time to time when I have made some sort of faith statement in a venue that was essentially secular. But nothing close to discrimination if by that word we mean a showing of prejudice against a particular individual or group. So I was somewhat put off by Nancy French’s statement in her conversation with Dr. Zylstra on KDCR, Dordt College radio last week that the people who most often experience discrimination in America are evangelical Christians. The statement was made in the context of a political discussion, and the example given was that often Christians are not given positions as judges because of their faith. I have heard this discrimination lament from others as well but I don’t believe it. How does one know something like this, that it is Christians who most often experience discrimination? Is someone adding up th

Good to hear from you, Gary. I hope you and your family are well. I agree with you that the church is obliged to care for the poor. My question is who picks up the slack when the church fails. It is a fact that the church does not (has not, has never) come close to meeting the basic human needs of the poor. Programs like Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, SNAP and others were begun by the government because of unmet needs. I cannot imagine the degree of suffering and death that would occur if the government did not step in. Here are some words from John Calvin. If the church took them seriously, it might be able to fulfill its obligations to the poor. Calvin urged his fellow Christians to engage in "a liberal and kindly sharing of [what we possess] with others. . . . Let this, therefore, be our rule for generosity and beneficence: We are stewards of everything God has conferred on us by which we are to help our neighbor, and are required to render an account of our stewardship.

I really like what Dan says about the debates on health care being “dominated by affluent white people whose position in life means they have no idea about what life, sickness and death looks like up close in their cities.” Bill Moyers interview with Wendell Potter touches on this: www.pbs.org/moyers/journal/07102009/watch2.html I attended church in the poorest neighborhood in the city of Muskegon, MI, and served as a deacon in that church for a number of years. Most of our deaconate work involved neighborhood people who came to us in desperation because they had no money for food for their family—often because their welfare check was delayed for some reason. For several years I worked with a family—grandmother, four kids, amputee grandfather—who depended entirely on the social services system, but because the system let them down from time to time, we would have to buy them food or go to the DSS and advocate for them. I suppose those eighteen years at Bethany CRC, Muskegon had a great

“You go to Dordt College and you ask me that question?” Rick Santorum said to Ryan Walters, Dordt College freshman, when Santorum spoke in Sioux Center recently. And the question that Santorum seemed amazed at was this: “If not for our [government] social programs, how can we take care of our poor?” Santorum asked the audience who should take care of the poor, and the answer he got first was “the church,” and then, the answer he wanted, it’s up to “the individual” to take care of himself. Before we parse those three answers, I want to comment on Santorum’s amazement at Walters question. Why was he so amazed? I can only speculate. Santorum was amazed because he had been led to believe that Dordt College is a bastion of conservative Republican political views. Where did he get that idea? Again, I can, only speculate. Perhaps his colleague in the House of Representatives, Steve King, told him that. Perhaps the fact that Sioux County is called the most conservative county in the country in

Pastor Ames in Gilead mentions that he has thought about having a book ready at hand to clutch if he feels a heart attack coming on, “so that it would have an especial recommendation from being found in my hands. That seemed theatrical, on consideration. . . .” I notice that I have written in the margin, “How vain we all are.” It’s a bit like imaging the kind and flattering words that might be said at our funerals? Surely no one has done that! Still, Ames’ notion of having an impressive book in your hands when you die invites reflection. You would want something of “quality,” but also something that you really loved. He mentions the English metaphysical poets Donne and Herbert, Barth’s Epistle to the Romans and Calvin’s Institutes , Volume II. I’m not in his league. I might choose the poems of Hopkins or Dickinson or something by Wendell Berry or . . . Gilead.

I wrote this piece twenty years ago but never dared publish it anywhere because of the offense that some people might take. But most of those people are dead now, so I think I’m safe. Here’s how I came to write about nicknames in my hometown of Edgerton. I’m eating dinner at this restaurant with a friend from my boyhood. We both left town in 1960 and have gone back only for visits in the last thirty-five years. We’re sitting in this restaurant when somebody walks by, recognizes John, and stop to talk to him for a while. “Who was that?” I ask when he leaves. “Ed Bakker.” “I don’t think I know him,” I say. “Swivel-neck,” says John. “Swivel-neck Bakker.” “Oh, yeah,” I say. “He’s the guy who could look at the clock on the back wall of church and never move any part of his body but his neck.” “Yep. A hundred-eighty degrees from a straight ahead position.” “Old Swivel-neck Bakker.” That’s how it started. Now it becomes almost a competition to see who can remember the funniest nickname. John