I Still Watch the Night

We got what my neighbor, Wade, comicly refered to as "bibled" yesterday afternoon. I came out last evening to go to a staff meeting at work and there was a small copy of the New Testament on the front porch.

It's rather rude to try and thrust one's spirtual beliefs on another person. The timing was certainly ironic. The night before I had gone to hear a talk at the public library by Cecile Nyiramana, a survivor of the Rwandan genocide and member of Women in Dialogue.

Afterward, I was standing around with a few of the usual suspects... the leftist, peace activist, been-around the-protest-block Iowa City crowd. Eventually the conversation got around to the horrible problem of evangelicalism and how much cruelty and suffering has been and is caused in the name of the righteous. After pondering this thought for a brief moment in silence, this one woman, Quinn, shook her head and said, "Poor God." That about summed it up.


There is a small amount of irony to the being "bibled" thing. As I seem to be so captivated by the topic of suffering these days, it reminded me I've been wanting to check out the Book of Job. We got "bibled" a copy of the New Testament, of course, (most Jews are as miserable as me, therefore, would never be bothered dumping off such things).

One last thing, on the suffering deal. My dear father - 36 years ago tonight - shook me out of bed and made me go watch those boys walk on the moon. I don't think he ever let my brother and me miss a single astronomical "happening". Miss ya', Dad. I still watch the night -- it's mostly where I get my God on.