Thursday, November 20, 2025
1945 The Nuremberg war trials began as 24 Nazi leaders were put on trial before judges representing the victorious Allied powers
1947 Pope Pius XII published the encyclical Mediator Dei
1949 Jewish population of Israel reaches 1,000,000
1958 American puppeteers Jim and Jane Henson established Muppets, Inc. (now known as The Jim Henson Company)
2024 Trump chose TV doctor Mehmet Oz to lead the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services
In bed at 9:30, awake at 4:45, up at 5 with sad Thanksgiving thoughts. 40°, high of 49°, cloudy all day.
Meds, etc. Morning meds sometime in the afternoon.
I spoke too soon and ignorantly. Last year on this date, I wrote the following in this journal:
I don't believe in the God of the Bible, New Testament or Old. I don't believe in the God of Thomas Aquinas and Summa Theologica. I don't believe in the God of the Roman Catholic Catechism. I don't believe in the God of the Pentecostals and Evangelicals, the snake handlers and speakers in tongues. I don't believe in the God of Spinoza or of Thomas Jefferson. Does this make me an atheist or an agnostic, or does it demonstrate the futility of the question "Do you believe in God?" Whose God? Which one?
Nothing has changed in the past year except that I have come to understand more of "the God of Spinoza," i.e., Nature itself. I think that last year, when I wrote the above, I was thinking of Spinoza as like Jefferson, a deist who believed in "God" as transcendent, but not personal, separate from the universe he created and not involved in it after he created it. One he created the world, he was done with it, in effect decreeing, "You're on your own! Good luck!" Actually, Spinoza did not believe in a transcendent God, but rather Deau sive Natura, God as Nature itself, with its own laws. His understanding of "God" wasn't fully expressed until his Ethics was published posthumously in 1677.
Am I an atheist or an agnostic? Does it make a difference? No God, Deus absonditus, Deus otiosus, Deus sive Natura? Any time I consider the question, I think back to the kitchen table discussion with Geri, her cousin Sue, and her husband Tom several years ago. I remember saying that my religious life had become much simpler and easier to live with when I stopped believing in a personal God who created the universe and sustains it every moment, the God who is 'in charge,' the God I had been taught to believe in from my earliest memories. Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. . . He's got the whole world in his hands . . . His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he cares for me, etc. I don't think I've ever gotten past the challenge of theodicy, understanding why an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-loving God created a world with so much evil, injustice, pain, suffering, and wretchedness. I suggested that it would be much easier to make the case for a God who is a mean prick than the case for a God who is a loving Father. Precious Lord, take my hand, / Lead me on, let me stand, / I am tired, I am weak, I am worn. / Through the storm, through the night, / Lead me on to the light: / Take my hand, precious Lord, Lead me home. Millions of my fellow humans have found comfort in their belief in that God. Millions of others aren't so lucky. Who's right?
"We are all tattooed in our cradles with the beliefs of our tribe; the record may seem superficial, but it is indelible. You cannot educate a man wholly out of the superstitious fears which were early implanted in his imagination; no matter how utterly his reason may reject them, he will still feel as the famous woman did about ghosts, Je n'y crois pas, mais je les crains,—"I don't believe in them, but I am afraid of them, nevertheless". Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr., The Poet at the Breakfast Table (1872)
Holmes's 'famous lady' could have been speaking of the Holy Ghost, or of God, rather than spectral spirits. You can take the boy out of the Church, but you can't take the Church out of the boy. Where, when, and from whom did I first hear that? I think it's an Irish Catholic adaptation of the older, more generalized saying, You can take the X out of the Y, but you can't take the Y out of the X. In any event, it surely applies to me, raised by a 1st generation Irish American mother, schooled and socialized in Catholic schools owned by my Catholic parish run by an Irish Catholic monsignor, high school run by the Irish Christian Brothers, in an archdiocese run by an Irish Catholic cardinal, in a national Catholic Church and culture dominated by Irish Catholic prelates. Is there any 'fallen away Catholic who doesn't harbor some permanent residual fear of Judgment Day and eternal Hellfire? When I worried about my sister Kitty being alone in the middle of every night with her insomnia, I sent her a red votive candle holder and a box of votive candles, asking her to light a candle as she sat alone and to know that I was with her in spirit. Every Catholic church in our youth had a wrought iron votive light stand with rows of candles to be lit when a believer had a petitionary prayer for the soul of a "faithful departed' soul or some other wish. We would put a dime or a quarter in the alms box to cover the cost of the candle and the taper used to light it, light the candle, and send our prayer up to Heaven, hoping that our wish would be granted. I still regularly light a votive candle in my bedroom at bedtime. Why? Memories of Kitty? of all my dearly beloved, faithful departed, and my dearly beloved, unfaithful departed? or for myself? It ís the blight man was born for, / It is Margaret you mourn for. . . . Send not to know / For whom the bell tolls, / It tolls for thee. I frequently light a votive candle in the predawn hours. I call it my Kitty candle. I have what I call my goyishe yahrzeit candle that I light on anniversaries of the deaths of my family and friends. Wazupwidat? You can take the boy out of the Church, but you can't take the Church out of the boy.
I watched Dick Cheney's funeral for two hours this morning. It stirred up lots of memories and some sadness. The sadness came mostly from watching his grandchildren eulogize their Grandpa. The eulogies all appeared to be heartfelt, and from them it was clear that he was a terrific grandpa. I was especially touched by the words of his granddaughter, "Gracie," who had been a rodeo contestant at some time. She related long drives in which Cheney would drive her and probably her quarter horse to rodeos to participate in barrel races. Her voice cracked a couple of times, and it was clear she dearly loved her grandpa and had good reason to love him. A grandson related that he was a running back on his high school football team, as Cheney had been years before. and how Cheney would attend as many of his grandson's games as he could. His daughter Liz delivered a eulogy on behalf of herself and her sister Mary. It was also touching, as was George W. Bush's. Bush is 79 years old, the same as Donald Trump, and I was struck by how clear, coherent, and thoughtful Bush's delivery was, unlike any of Trump's speeches. You could tell his advanced age from the way he walked, especially descending the stairs from the altar and choir level of the sanctuary to the level of public seating. "W" and Laura Bush sat next to Joe and Jill Biden. Next to them were Mike and "Mother" Pence. Neither Donald Trump nor J. D. Vance was invited to the funeral by the Cheney family - no surprise. Al Gore and Kamala Harris were supposedly present but I didn't see them anywhere in the nave of the cathedral.
One of the memories that was triggered by the funeral was the time Geri and I attended a mass at the National Cathedral in 1995, when I was in Washington to testify in favor of Herb Kohl's "Sunshine in Litigation" bill, which would have severely limited the use of secrecy or non-disclosure provisions in product liability and toxic tort litigation. The homily that day was delivered by a female priest and it was terrific. I remember saying to Geri as we left the Cathedral grounds, "See, that's why the Catholic Church doesn't want women priests. They can't stand the competition."
There was very little religious liturgy during the service, despite its location: a few pro forma prayers, a reading from the Old Testament's Isaiah, a reading from Paul's epistle to the Philippians, the gospel reading from Matthew ("You are the light of the world . . .", a forgettable homily, the recitation of the Creed, and the Our Father. It sounds like a lot, but most of it came at the end of the long deliveries of eulogies and the long, slow processions of the casket, of the family, and of the clergy down the long main aisle of the Cathedral. The service took 2 hours, and I would estimate that the prayer and readings portion took about 15 minutes, though quite a bit of time was taken up with choir and chorale singing.
Not pleasing to me was the union of Church and State, and of Church and Military, in the service. The passbearers were not family and friends, but junior enlisted men in the services. The military participants all did the military close order drill bit, moving like toy soldiers or wind-up dolls. I suppose it was because he was a former Secretary of Defense under George H. W. Bush, or perhaps just because he was a former vice-president. In either case, I'm never comfortable seeing representatives of the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth hand-in-hand with representatives of our forces of death and destruction, aggression against socialists, and defense of capitalists. It's an unnatural fit. On top of that, there's some irony in it since Cheney received 5 draft deferments before turning 26 in January 1966, and aging out of the draft system. He was 7 months older than me. He never spent a day in uniform and avoided service during the Vietnam War era.
I was never a fan of Dick Cheney. I pretty much despised the triumvirate of "W," Cheney, and Donald Rumsfeld. It was during their reign that I started writing long, pretty thoughtful screeds to the Washington Post, and eventually saving them on what became in 2022 this journal/blog. I remember sitting in a pizza joint or somesuch in Santa Rosa, Sonoma County, California, when "W" gave his speech to the nation about the need to invade Iraq in 2003 to replace Saddam Hussein and seize his 'weapons of mass destruction,' or WMDs. I remember being pretty despondent about it, thinking, 'here we go again, more Vietnam.' Of course, it ended up tragically, almost farcically, and Dick Cheney was assigned most of the blame for the disaster. He was thought to have forced George Tenet's CIA to opine that Hussein had the WMDs, 'a slam dunk.' Of course, we heard none of that at Cheney's funeral, nor should we have, but some of us remember, and still wonder what to make of him.
Here is one of my intemperate rants from those days:
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Sun Rises in East, Heat Rises and Pope a Catholic!
Ex-Commander In Iraq Faults War Strategy
'No End in Sight,' Says Retired General Sanchez
By Josh White
Washington Post Staff Writer
Saturday, October 13, 2007; Page A01
Retired Lt. Gen. Ricardo S. Sanchez, who led U.S. forces in Iraq for a year after the March 2003 invasion, accused the Bush administration yesterday of going to war with a "catastrophically flawed" plan and said the United States is "living a nightmare with no end in sight."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Finally, the truth comes out: Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld, our homegrown axis of evil, were grossly incompetent in leading the United States into an invasion and occupation of Iraq. Surely it is a slow news day for both the Washington Post and New York Times to make this a front page story. Is there any sentient soul in the world who does not realize that the BushCheneyRummy plan (we use the term loosely) was "catastrophically flawed"? Is there anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear who does not realize that the United States is "living a nightmare with no end in sight'? Sanchez Sez: Bears Poop in the Woods!!!
What makes the Sanchez story newsworthy of course is simply the fact that it is the former top military commander in Iraq who is publicly uttering what is obvious to everyone. Sanchez Admits 'Water Runs Downhill"!!! Sanchez will undoubtedly be blasted by the likes of Rush, Sean, Laura, Glenn and the rest of the Fox News crowd. He will be blamed for everything from Abu Ghraib to the embarassing executions of Saddam and the guy who was decapitated by the noose. The Decider will magnanimously stay above the fray while his henchmen and apparatchiks busy themselves calumniating Sanchez the Failure. Nonetheless, the nation and the world know that Sanchez speaks the unutterable truth: the Republican, neocon, Israel-pushed adventure in Iraq is another American failure much like (dare we say it?) Vietnam. Are the generals to blame? Sure. Is the press to blame? Sure. Is the Department of Defense to blame? Sure. Is the State Department to blame? Sure. Are Bush and Cheney and Rumsfeld and their neocon diehard supporters and apologists to blame? Sure. We would need more arms than an octopus and more fingers than Shiva to point out all who are to blame for this catastrophe. Alas, all we need is a mirror to see that we too are to blame for following silently and meekly as the criminals in Washington led the nation into this Slough of Despond.
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