Notes from my Knapsack 11-9-17

Notes from my Knapsack 11-9-17

Jeff Gill

 

We are a violent people

___

 

Credit must be given to David Hackett Fischer, a history professor who wrote a 900-plus page book entitled "Albion's Seed" about patterns of migration to the early United States.

 

But fairly or not, I'd sum up what I learned from his scholarship in the simple phrase: "We are a violent people."

 

Not bad people, but restless, by nature rootless, wandering folk who chose to leave the British isles and come to the rocky uplands of the eastern United States to eke out a living, singing our folk songs which became bluegrass & blues, and maintaining tensions between clans and families which become legendary feuds, such as the Hatfields and the McCoys and NASCAR.

 

Americans are good, gracious, giving, caring, loving . . . and violent people. Maybe not you, generally not me, but in sum, compared to many populations around the world, we have a tendency to violent reactions. No, we are far from alone in this, but American violence is, well, known. And well known around the world.

 

Think about our movies. Car crashes and massive explosions and guns of every sort, but culminating with the ever-so-satisfying punch in the mouth of the bad guy by the hero.

 

As you may have heard, we own guns. It's not surprising. This is a vast continent, in the larger picture of things relatively recently pioneered, with big chunks of rural and even huge semi-wilderness areas between our sprawling cities. Colt Peacemakers and Winchester 73s and Browning M1911s have been intrinsic to our history; Garand M-1s and AR-15s and tin can plinking .22 caliber bolt action Mossbergs are in households all around us.

 

300,000,000 guns. That's what our best estimate is (no one really knows) of how many guns are owned in America. I'm skeptical, and not just on Second Amendment grounds, of anyone who argues that we should just have the government go door to door and collect them up and wait for the peaceable kingdom to arrive. That's one firearm per American, old, young, pacifist or veteran. If you don't have yours, don't worry, someone else has seventeen of them. No, I don't quite get that either.

 

Candidly, I don't think that the answer to safety and security of churches or public gatherings of any sort is more people packing heat. The whole "an armed society is a polite society" is one of those debating points that doesn't play out well in real life (ask the Dodge City sheriff). I don't know that gun control in any of the forms I've heard proposed is the answer, either. But I do believe I have reason to argue two things.

 

One is that while the idea of "we have to DO something" is always tied up with "pass new legislation," I see in the practical impact of recent events a strong argument for saying "actively enforcing the laws that are on the books will lead to less gun violence." Yes, that means more funding for the FBI & ATF & local law enforcement in maintaining databases and running background checks. Do that, not "something." Let's see what that does.

 

And rather than keep fighting about "gun control" per se, could we talk about firearm deaths as a public health crisis, and deal with it as we would such a thing? Yes, 33,000 firearms deaths a year are terrible – and two-thirds of those are suicides. Most mass shooters end in a . . . suicide. Most gun violence seems to have an element of willful self-destruction tied into it. What's going on with that? How can we respond?

 

We are a violent people. We need to work on that aspect of our American culture. Particularly between men and women, mostly on the male side of that. I don't notice many shooters being women with a grievance, and I know enough women to know that's not because they don't have any. Let's work on peace, healthy relationships, mental health and suicide reduction, and deal with weapons restrictions as they naturally arise within those contexts.

 

That we can peacefully and collaboratively do.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's fired many sorts of weapons in his life, but never in anger. Tell him how you deal with your violent tendencies at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

 

Faith Works 11-4-17

Faith Works 11-4-17

Jeff Gill

 

Pain and healing the work of faith

___

 

When I first read "Dreamland" by Sam Quinones, I was horrified to learn about one of the lies told about opioid medications by those promoting their sale and use.

 

I had told that lie. It was told to me by a doctor, and I read in those pages exactly how he had been lied to, and by whom. It was no comfort to know this untruth had been said to me in good faith, and I had repeated it likewise.

 

"Dreamland" has been a touchstone for many of us in coming to grips with the opioid epidemic and avalanche of overdose in central Ohio, not just because of the locally specific anecdotes included in Sam's stories, but because it helps us understand how so many aspects of community have become part of this tragedy.

 

That book doesn't offer a program in response, or even a comprehensive list of recommendations, but it does try to help us all get back to the truth. Telling ourselves and each other the truth is a big part of what it will take to identify, recover, and heal from the wave of opioid abuse still rippling across our country.

 

Churches and faith communities can and must be part of any effort that begins with telling the truth. Opioid addiction is a disease of isolation, and recovery happens in community. We need faith communities to be beacons of light to the wider community for join the work to share the saving grace of God to those who are hurting.

 

On Saturday, Nov. 18 an all-day conference is open to the public, especially those from local congregations, hosted at Family of Faith Community Church (just past Pizza Cottage in Newark). "Community In Action" (or CIA for short) is led by the Ohio Attorney General's office, the Licking County Prosecutor's office, and local pastors, educators, and other organizational leaders. I've been involved in the planning of the program and will offer part of the opening and closing for this event, which starts with registration at 8 am and ends at 4 pm. Call Family of Faith at 740.366.7931 to reserve a spot, or email admin@familyfaithcc.org. There is no cost for this event!

 

Pastor Leanne Goff at Family of Faith and her administrative team have provided invaluable support for this gathering, which we all hope will continue in and through the worshiping fellowships of Licking County. Some of the leadership of the day includes Jennifer Lloyd, with Ohio Attorney General Mike DeWine's office; Cliff Biggers, chaplain with the Licking County Prosecutor's Office and longtime community leader; Newark Police Chief Barry Connell; and Penny Sitler, Executive Director of Mental Health America of Licking County.

 

 If you are wanting to learn more about how addiction is influencing our community, and ways other communities like us have pushed back against & found healing from this epidemic, please consider this event.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's interested in the truth, and Truth. Tell him where you find truth in your life at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

LCCH strategic plan retreat

Good question. I should have something to say, shouldn't I? I did fill out a pre-survey.

In general, I'm still pretty basic.

What's our core mission? Housing those needing to transition from emergency housing to stable long-term solutions. How do we pay for that? Currently, mostly with federal dollars.

Will our mission change in the foreseeable future? No, I think transitional housing is going to continue to be a need — it could grow or just as possibly shrink, depending on other economic factors relating to employment and housing stock.

If federal funding is cut, how many units of transitional housing are a bare minimum needed in the area, and what would it require in fundraising to do that and/or what options for alternate income would be available? If a sudden infusion of cash came in, how would we add to our core mission delivery system? What is our "blue sky" longer view goal that we'd love to do if current constraints weren't holding us to "business as usual"?

In the collateral areas we've entered — income tax prep, special housing options, developmentally disabled adults — what is the prognosis for income vs. expenses, and do we conduct an ongoing review of how those areas of poverty reduction, self-sufficiency, and community support of stable housing options all work to support our core mission? Under what circumstances would we expand those, or cut them off (if expenditures to maintain those peripheral aims threatened the core mission, primarily)? When is a community-wide "Housing Forum" needed again to promote the idea of a wide range of housing option viability among builders, developers, and community leaders across the county?

And finally: what game changing development could transform our core mission? Either to eliminate it as a need, or to deliver the response more effectively than we currently do for those moving from emergency housing to stable and resilient circumstances? E.g. — a guaranteed living wage? Zero unemployment? A dramatic shift in housing stock either due to new builds or vacancies in existing homes? And a) is there anything we as LCCH can or should be doing to bring that about, or b) how might we prepare for those developments should they occur?

That's my strategic plan vision on a basic level. More particularly for a board — do we have a compelling "case statement" to give potential donors? We have done relatively little donor development in the last 25 years. Is that capacity we should develop, or is federal/state/local funding our main strength and would development work undermine that . . . or is it a direction we need to be privately, quietly pivoting to? It's always easy to say "we should do it all" but practically speaking, choices for an agency of our size have to be made. A major gifts and ongoing annual fund/sustaining giver program of development is a very real change in our institutional culture, and would change many of our community partnership relationships as well. So if that's an area to explore, there are major downsides to consider before just jumping on the "yeah, we should raise major funds soon" bandwagon. I could be convinced, but I'd need to see a better case than I'm aware of currently.

But even if the answer is "no," a good solid attractive "case statement" for LCCH should exist, as donor opportunities do come up and as we do have a very basic annual gifts program. Plus, the landscape could change quickly on us — a "case statement" for giving is never going to go entirely to waste.

Pax,
Jeff Gill
http://www.facebook.com/Knapsack
http://twitter.com/Knapsack

> On Oct 23, 2017, at 4:44 PM, Deb Tegtmeyer <DTegtmeyer@lcchousing.org> wrote:
>
> Anything you want to inject into the conversation tomorrow?
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Jeff Gill [mailto:knapsack@windstream.net]
> Sent: Monday, October 23, 2017 4:23 PM
> To: Deb Tegtmeyer <DTegtmeyer@lcchousing.org>
> Subject: Re: LCCH retreat tomorrow
>
> Church stuff in Delaware at 10:30, sadly.
>
> Sent from my iPhone
>
>> On Oct 23, 2017, at 11:05 AM, Deb Tegtmeyer <DTegtmeyer@lcchousing.org> wrote:
>>
>> Jeff - are you planning to attend?
>>
>> Or are you otherwise involved in a Church retreat?
>>
>> D
>>
>> Deb Tegtmeyer
>> Executive Director
>> Licking County Coalition for Housing
>> (740)345-1970 x 212
>> dtegtmeyer@lcchousing.org
>>
>>
>>
>> <winmail.dat>
>

Faith Works 10-28-17

Faith Works 10-28-17
Jeff Gill

The other Luther
___

Katharina von Bora is not going to get as much mention as I'd like to see her get tomorrow.

Not in my Sunday sermon for Reformation Sunday, not in many others, I'll guess. October 31 is the 500th anniversary of the publication of Martin Luther's 95 theses, his list of statements in dispute of certain doctrines of the Christian church of his day, so from 1517 to 2017 we have a significant event in the history not just of Western Christendom, but of world civilization.

Martin Luther began his protest of central authority and closely-held belief systems five centuries ago, and in the half-millennium since we've seen Western thought shift to a more individualistic, privacy-oriented, personal way of looking at thought and faith and responsibility. Some might even argue we've gone too far down that road, and I'm sure there will be a few sermons on that subject tomorrow.

But when this Augustinian monk and theology professor started asking questions about repentance, penance, and forgiveness . . . and turning on his own authority to the Bible to read passages like "the just shall live by faith" in a new light, he opened up a path for individual believers "to work out your salvation with fear and trembling."

Luther changed how Christians read their Bibles, aided by the new technology of printing which made Bibles more available to everyday people, and with his translation of the scriptures into German he inspired English translators like Wycliffe and Coverdale, leading to the King James version in our own language.

For more about all of this, check out the comprehensive website www.luther2017.de/en where you can get lost for hours (trust me).

What you have to hunt around to find, though, is more about Katharina von Bora. A well-born young girl sent to a convent for an education, who chose to become a nun, but who caught the fervor of the growing Protestant Reformation around her and married Martin Luther at the age of 26.

They had twenty years together, and six children; she cooked his food, brewed his beer, started businesses like a fish hatchery that helped pay the bills during the tumult of the times as her husband wrote and preached and led his growing movement — but he also respected her opinion, her thoughts, her mind. He called her his "My Lord Katie" without irony, and turned to her as a collaborator in his household, his work, and his writing.

Scholars are still slowly putting more pieces together of how Lord Kathy inspired her husband: almost all we know of her is from what Luther wrote, and how his students would occasionally note her asides in their recording of the master's "Table Talk."

When Luther died, he made Katharina his sole beneficiary and guardian of their children. Today, that sounds utterly normal; that itself is one small sign of how her role and their marriage has influenced Western norms in the centuries since. Suffice it to say that Luther's will was unusual in its day, and much remarked upon, as was the nature of his marriage during his life.

The Protestant Reformation changed not just religion, but how we think and relate to each other in the world that grew from those changes 500 years ago. Katie von Bora played her own significant role in those transformations, and is well worth honoring today, along with that fellow she chose to marry.


Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's not Lutheran himself, but he speaks Lutheran fairly well for a non-native. Tell him your tales of Reformation at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Notes from my Knapsack - undated

Notes from my Knapsack – Granville Sentinel

Jeff Gill

 

Living in a Dodgeball World

___

 

Today, I'm tall, but years ago, I wasn't.

 

What I remember vividly is being that kid in grade school who did not get the President's patch for physical fitness, couldn't do a single sit up, and was quite clumsy in the gym.

 

I dreaded the gym through elementary school. When it was the auditorium, and we learned songs there and put on shows for parents or of an evening there was a book fair inside it, I loved the space as I loved much of Northview Elementary -- but when it was "the gym" I did not love it at all. Mostly, because of dodgeball.

 

Ah ha, I can hear some of you say. One of those kids. Yep, that was me. And that me is still in here, nudging me today when the right occasion wakes that kid up.

 

There was the agonizing process of getting picked. Certain fine young specimens always got tapped for team captain, and they were the ones you would try to think "do I want to be on their team, so they aren't taking aim at me?" You'd curry favor in those futile juvenile ways, and at times it would work and then the gym teacher would announce a switch and the humiliation was all for naught.

 

Some of you may have fond recollections of catching a ball on the bounce, easily swiveling and flinging a well-aimed ball on the turn, neatly tagging out some opposing player. God bless your happy memories. I recall strategizing to skulk along a wall, skittering along the baseline, sliding behind protruding radiators that gave a narrow angle of protection, trying to hide behind other fellow victims, knowing you were just putting off the stinging moment of reckoning when your side was down to a few and the well aimed shot would take you off your feet.

 

I hated dodgeball. It seemed like we played it at least once a week for years. Pain and humiliation, carefully inflicted shot by shot.

 

Now, I'm well over six feet, have been hit and hit back, enlisted in the Marines and ministered in the inner city and have faced carjackings and stick-ups and pool cue waving drunks in vacant lots and lived through it. But I still hate the memory of dodgeball most of all.

 

I don't want to live in Dodgeball World. I loathe the idea that our public discourse is becoming an arena of the carefully aimed shot, the intentionally targeted smack of inflicted pain, dismissing an opponent to their bench with a gleeful chortle. We're retreating back to a grade school level of picking off the "other" team one thrown red-hot ball after another.

 

I don't want us to be a Dodgeball Village. Picking sides is rarely a community building experience to start with, and working together is surely not one of the morals of dodgeball, whatever beknighted lessons our gym teacher thought he was imparting. Picking off the slow, then the awkward, then focusing down to eliminating your most agile opposition: there are fields of endeavor where those are useful skills, but building the Beloved Community is not one of them.

 

Just remember, when someone on the other side is in your sights, and you feel precisely positioned and ideally prepared to throw a stinging barb to hit them right where it hurts, that there is pain that passes but there is hurt that lasts a long, long time. Some shots aren't worth taking, and some games need a new set of rules to even be worth playing.

 

And some games aren't worth winning. I can't even tell you who won at dodgeball all those years ago in gym, but I remember the hurt, and the pleasure others took in inflicting it, all too well.

 

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County, and he's been at a few public forums recently that felt like dodgeball games. Tell him about the games that taught you how to live a better life at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 10-21-17

Faith Works 10-21-17

Jeff Gill

 

Donor fatigue is real, and an illusion (it's both)

___

 

Have you gotten one of those letters in the mail?

 

Did you find a message in your email with links to videos, images, and a "how to donate" button?

 

Are you watching television or scrolling online and brought to a halt by some appeal or pitch or program about a cause you believe in, or think you should believe in a little bit more than you do?

 

It's that time of the year.

 

Heading into that grand stretch of months called "the holidays," from All Hallow's Eve to Thanksgiving to Christmas and New Year's, there's a mix of the end of the calendar year feelings with seasonal good will to make every non-profit and charitable cause and, in many cases, faith-based programs (including churches) to take the opportunity to reach out, and ask for your contributions.

 

On top of this annual custom, the recent string of natural disasters in the South and Caribbean has resulted in some extra telethons and text-based donation drives, which we've almost all been exposed to. Repeatedly!

 

Which then leads to a phenomenon known as "donor fatigue." It has some grounding in precedent and fact, where you can track the declining rate of giving and how repeated requests for aid can push those curves down more sharply.

 

Truth be told, though, this is a very generous country. It's how we roll. Some $380 BILLION in the last year's tally of charitable giving, individual gifts the overwhelming majority of those dollars, though foundations and grants total billions themselves.

 

What I think some of us get weary of is our own self-doubt, our own questioning of where we are and to whom we should be giving of our blessings. And I'd take that a step farther, and push us all to think about whether we're tired of thinking about where our gifts should go, or if it's repeated circuits around that track without ever quite passing a finish line that wear us down.

 

The requests, in a practical sense, will never end. But if we come to some settled conclusions about a) WHY we give, and b) how we want to give, and yes, c) how much we're going to give, we can reach a point of relative peace. Yes, the requests will still come in, but we won't wear ourselves out in second-guessing what we haven't quite gotten around to doing . . . and that's where I think the fatigue comes in.

 

I wish I could give more in some cases, to some places. But my wife and I have long had a practice of thinking through, planning for, and working out our giving patterns, starting with our basic commitment to our faith community (and yes, there's a template for that, which is a different column topic sometime again soon). Then we try to allocate what we can do with our time and talents, and there are certain purposes in the community we prioritize beyond that, and there we are.

 

It doesn't mean my heart strings are never tugged, or that we don't make financial gifts beyond what we planned at the start of a year, but there's a kind of whipsawing I see and hear in people's discussions about charitable giving that we just don't feel. Because we've thought through why we should give, how much we're going to commit to up front, and when and where we add to that as the year and its blessings pass in review.

 

To be perfectly blunt: what I fear triggers "donor fatigue" is actually "guilt fatigue." Guilt can spur a certain amount of generosity, but we all reach a point where we say "enough already." Guilt is no basis for giving.

 

Gratitude, on the other hand, often multiplies itself. Gratitude is nearly inexhaustible, and giving that is the result of grace (grace being a gift one receives undeserved, but still freely given regardless of whether we had it coming or not) is the visible form of the all-too-often invisible gratitude we want to feel, but so often can't quite put into words.

 

Giving speaks our gratitude in a language the universe can understand, that we can hear echo back and that might just catch the ears and attentions of others. When you know what it is you're thankful for, and why you want to respond, your giving becomes fairly straightforward.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County. Tell him what causes or purposes you give to support at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.