"NOTHING PERSONAL," YOU SAY?

Mother Mary

in my little garden

When disagreements arise in modern life, I have noticed that some people are unable or refuse to put themselves into the place of the other guy, in their imagination. Because they cannot empathize, they cannot imagine why that person on the other side of the debate has an opinion so different from their own.

When engaging in a formal debate, definition of terms often forms a preliminary phase of the debate process so that everyone involved is "on the same page" and talking about the same thing, but modern Americans, set loose on the internet, are not taking advantage of this tool.

Refusing to attempt to understand the actual position of the other side, in a sympathetic light, and making assertions about what your opponents think, believe or want, has become common and is not productive of anything good. It just perpetuates the prejudices and discord.

"Nothing is sweeter than

to think well of others."

Saint Therese of Lisieux

It won't be news to you if I tell you that there is a lot of turmoil in our country right now. I believe that at least part of the cause of this is this disorganized approach to communication among us.

Most of my readers will remember that I am a Catholic convert with a Hindu (Vedantic) orientation. I was raised without any religion whatsoever and participated in many different faiths before converting to Catholicism about 14 years ago. While I believe in everything the Catholic Church believes and teaches, I have a tremendous amount of experience as a non-Christian American. I can easily speak to the point of view of non-Christians, as a result.

When having discussions with some of my Catholic brothers and sisters, I will often object to their characterizations of poor people, gay people, brown people, immigrants, disabled people, and other vulnerable groups. The reply I often get is, "oh, I am not talking about you." As a single, female, senior, divorced, disabled poor person, I fit into many categories of the most vulnerable groups and, having been raised in a non-Christian environment, I am intimately familiar with the lifestyle and beliefs of unchurched people.

But those good Catholic people ARE "talking about" me! They have erroneous, conspiracy-level beliefs about poor people, for instance. There is a huge amount of prejudice about the poor! Right wing people who identify as Christian will often immediately talk about drug addiction and criminality when discussing "the poor."

It isn't that I don't find drug addiction and criminality disturbing, because I DO. Since becoming disabled and poor, and after moving into low-income housing, I have been on the receiving end of quite a bit of the criminality of a segment of the poor. Several of my poor neighbors have stolen from me. The homeless who have encampments in the bosque next to the apartment complex have stolen things out of my garden and my patio, and have rifled through the drawers of the potting cabinet on the patio - looking for whatever might be useful, I suppose. My car has been broken into several times, with no more apparent motive than to scrabble around for change or valuables, leaving me with a broken side window and a creeping sensation of wonder that, although the car was parked right next to my apartment windows, I never heard a thing.

I've had neighbors aggressively try to "befriend" me just so they can get into my apartment and scope it out for possessions they might like to have. One woman spent months telling me I should just "give away" the bed I wasn't using instead of selling it, and then called me one morning and announced that her daughter-in-law had "cried with joy" at the news that SHE would be receiving this bed because she really needed one. I had not agreed to any such thing and was even FURTHER astonished when the neighbor told me she had arranged for a rental truck to come and get it and that it would be at my apartment within two hours! It dawned on me that the neighbor who had pursued my friendship had been "working me" for months, with the express purpose of divesting me of whatever possessions she liked, so I gave her the bed. I rightly guessed she would stop bugging me after she got what she wanted, and I was right. The woman came and took the bed and never spoke to me again.

Anyone who imagines I don't know what I'm talking about when discussing the criminality of the poor needs to take a step back and try another tack. The thing is, despite feeling really bad when someone steals from me or tries to manipulate me for profit, as in the case of the neighbor and the bed, I know that the thievery of the poor is just more obvious and personal than the thievery of the other classes. 

There is a percentage of people in all walks of life who will steal. I have an entirely middle-class sibling who, through a complex con that she worked on me over several months, managed to legally bar me from successfully fighting the theft of inheritance by my father's third wife - just so the sibling could take whatever scraps were available.

The wealthy classes steal from the poor and the middle class in a less direct and less personal way. I would make the case that theirs is the most reprehensible type of thievery because it relies upon the inability of the lower classes to protect themselves. I 

The thievery of poor people is more honorable, in one sense, because it is blatant and out in the open and in-your-face. I know what my neighbor stole from me when I hired her to clean my house. Likewise a second neighbor, the daughter of people I believed were my friends - she ALSO stole from me. I was able to speak to her directly about it.

But what can I do about the thievery of the rich who give one another tax breaks and talk about "trickle down economics" that no one believes is true because nothing has ever trickled down from these accomplished con artists? Millionaires and billionaires buy more luxury goods and properties for themselves while the rest of the people scrabble around for bread.

The fact is that there are no higher a percentage of criminals in the poor populations than there are in society in general. In fact, it may be quite a bit lower, because most poor people are poor because they're disabled or elderly. There is no more drug addiction among the poor than in society as a whole. It's just that people who are successful criminals have enough money to shield themselves from punishment. Drug addicts who are rich, famous, or have solid families have enough resources to support expensive rehab programs.

How many alcoholics do you think exist among the middle class and wealthy? Quite a lot. They can afford the booze. They can also afford to make it 'look' better. I have a relative who is an alcoholic. On the outside, it looks like she's a nice middle-class lady. She's got the trappings of respectability. But she is a terrible drunk. The packaging is just more attractive. She can afford to drink herself into oblivion inside an attractive home. She can also lie, cheat and steal under cover of apparent "respectability." You won't find HER in the gutter, slurring her words and vomiting her stomach contents onto the road. She does it behind closed doors.

This is why, when discussing the middle class or the wealthy, alcoholism is not the first thing that unkind people will talk about. It's the first thing mentioned when the topic of poor people arises, though. Why isn't it the first thing one hears when discussing the other socio-economic groups that have this problem? Americans are prejudiced against the poor in the same way the British in Dickens-era England were. Nothing has changed.

People want to justify their prejudice against the poor.

I am far from a perfect person, but I am not a drug addict. I don't drink. I'm not a criminal. Heck, I haven't had so much as a parking ticket in 44 years! I do not live on welfare. I have Social Security into which I paid for more than 30 years of constant work. I have no tattoos. I have lived as a celibate religious for almost two decades. I am nothing special because, aside from my formal religious vows of sannyas, I am very typical for a woman of my age. MOST poor people are like me. They've done the best they could with their lives, and they are struggling to make a go of it on very little income in their old age. 99.9% of us are NOT homeless people begging with big signs on the street corners, and shooting up drugs at night. They're the exception, not the rule. But even if ALL poor people were drug-addled, alcohol soaked n'er do wells, I ask you to remember that Jesus did not put any requirements upon poor people before they were entitled to the compassion of Christians.

"The poor man has one plea, his want and his standing

in need: do not require anything else from him; but even

if he is the most wicked of all men and is at a loss for

his necessary sustenance, let us free him from hunger."

St. John Chrysostom

Most of us have no help whatsoever. We receive "too much" income from Social Security, thanks to our work histories, but certainly not enough to pay for our needs. Some of us get help from our families, but an awful lot of us are not getting crucial needs met and are dying much sooner than necessary, as a result.

While it is common for most bloggers to avoid talking about themselves, I am taking the opposite stance, partly because my previous confessor taught me that my personal experiences can be used to advocate for others in my position.

"He who is gracious to a poor man lends to the Lord,

and He will repay him for his good deed."

Proverbs 19:17

In my own way, I am fighting the prejudices and bigotry that are so endemic in the cruel America of today. I hope to be able to help that segment of American Christians who are mentioned, above, to be able to identify, even a little bit, with those who are less fortunate than they are, and with those who disagree with them politically.

Put yourselves in my shoes, my American brothers and sisters, then survey our land through my eyes and my experience. If you can do that, you may disabuse yourselves of some of your prejudices.

God bless us all.

Silver "Rose"
Sannyasini Kaliprana

A MURDER OF CROWS

Charles Dickens

Charles Dickens, celebrated author of  David Copperfield and A Christmas Carol, among more than a dozen other published novels, specialized in exposing the rank and heartless class consciousness in Victorian England. His own father was consigned to debtor's prison for some time. He would have felt right at home here in the United States of America in 2018.

"If I speak with the tongues of men, and of angels, and have not charity,

I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal."

First Epistle of Saint Paul to the Corinthians

13:1

We pretend that we are different than the English from whom we battled to free ourselves because we do not have a system of nobility, with the attendant inherited wealth and status. No kings and queens for us! No counts, dukes or duchesses. We are egalitarian. In OUR system, anyone can (supposedly) rise through the socio-economic classes and arrive at a place where they too can thumb their noses at the poor and accuse them of every character defect under the sun - just like the English of Dickens' time!

"And if I should have prophecy and should know all mysteries, and

all knowledge, and if I should have all faith, so that I could

remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing."

First Epistle of Saint Paul to the Corinthians

13:2

Many Americans behave as if poverty is the result of sin. If you are poor, in the minds of a large segment of our population, it means that you persist in doing something wrong. You are lazy or criminal or crazy, and privileged Americans are happy to tell you so!

"Jesus said: Thou shalt do no murder, Thou shalt not

commit adultery, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not

bear false witness."
Matthew 19:18

Making these claims accomplishes two things for those with greater means. First, it makes them feel superior to a LOT of people, and who doesn't like that, right? [As of 2015, there were more than 43 million Americans whose income fell below the official poverty line, as set by our government, which is really too low to accurately reflect the number of people struggling with basic survival needs.] Secondly, it gives the "upper classes" the perfect excuse to justify lack of charity, thus enabling them to cater to their own greed and avarice.

"Charity is patient, is kind; charity envieth not, 

dealeth not perversely; is not puffed up; 

is not ambitious, seeketh not her own, 

is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil;

First Epistle of Saint Paul to the Corinthians

13:4-5

Nowhere is this more evident than on Facebook, where bragging about your blessings appears to be a national past time, but woe be to you if your life is not sun-kissed and full of roses. What if your news isn't that you just built a pool in the back yard? What if, instead, your news is that you ran out of food before you ran out of month? Or what if you simply don't have the discretionary income to purchase FUN things that the woman who married well can purchase (and brags about.) What if THAT is your news?

"Jesus saith to him: if thou wilt be perfect, go sell 

what thou hast, 

and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure 

in heaven: 

and come follow me."

Matthew 19:21

Recently, I joined an inkle weaving group on Facebook. I plan to make crocheted tapestry-style handbags that use inkle woven bands as the strap.[I am always trying to improve my circumstances with whatever art project I can produce at home.]  If I can fast track my skill building, I hope to sell the bags in a little Etsy shop or something similar. I'd hoped to learn as much as possible while waiting for the time when I could squeeze out the money for an inkle loom. Joining the inkle weaving group was the first step.

One of the members posted a brilliant photograph of a beautiful inkle loom, wonderfully polished wood accoutrements, and a gorgeous inkle strap in progress, on the loom. I made the mistake of using a euphemism when I posted a short comment praising the beauty of the product and mentioning that I don't have the "resources." Immediately, someone posted elaborate instructions about how to purchase one of the looms, so I erased my comment and wrote a comment that made it more clear that I didn't have the finances to purchase one at this time.

All hell broke loose.

Crows - Greg Fallis

I felt as if a murder of crows had descended on my head, as a group of women swooped in to slap me around. One woman claimed that I wasn't too poor to purchase a loom because my Facebook profile looked too good. Another claimed that I wasn't too poor to buy an inkle loom because I don't live like people in third world countries. Another accused me of "fishing" for one of these strangers on this random page to buy me a loom! Another said she was sad that someone like me was a member of their group, which is the bottom line, of course. These women banded together to shame me and punish me so that I would leave, which i did.

"A false witness shall not be unpunished; and he that speaketh lies shall not escape."

Proverbs 19:9

Women in these fetid little pockets of privilege do whatever they can to push out anyone who doesn't "belong." It has nothing to do with creative vision or talent. It is ALL about how much money you have. Period. This has been going on for thousands of years, evidently.

Ironically, it is usually women who have not earned their own income who are the worst perpetrators of this kind of exclusionary classism. Women who married well and/or inherited money (or stole it from the inheritance of the children of the man's first wife) are the first to spread rumors about you and impugn your character. Many of these people claim to be very religious and make an effort to display this overt religiosity prominently in their lives. It is a cover, and they are wolves in sheep's clothing.

PORTRAIT OF A NOBELWOMAN

by

Bartolome Gonzalez y Serrano

"The things that are sacrificed to them, their priests sell and abuse: in like manner

also their wives take part of them, but give nothing of it either to the sick,

or to the poor."

Baruch 6:27

Being attacked by strangers on Facebook, simply because I dared to mention that I could not afford a weaving loom, is the final piece of my education in human nature which began when I became disabled. 

After I became disabled, I was written out of my father's will (when he was suffering from dementia.) I didn't even know he had died until after his body was cremated, his death certificate signed by a crooked doctor who was sent to prison for writing prescriptions for people he had never seen.

After I became disabled, a sibling contacted me after 12 years of silence, begged my forgiveness for her many sins against me over the years (in a calculated ploy to engage my religious sensibilities), and conned me into a lawsuit against the will, then refused to join it as promised, intentionally leaving me dangling without essential proofs for my case - just so I could be eliminated, leaving the field clear for the sibling. She had paid for the attorney, and there was a conflict of interest in that. She had thought of everything! She plotted against me, pretending to be doing everything FOR me. During the lawsuit, she called me three times a day. As soon as she got what she wanted, she stopped returning calls.

After I became disabled, long term friends who had taken advantage of my friendship dropped me like a hot potato and proceeded to spread lies about me among mutual "friends." 

After I became disabled, the Electroal College placed a misogynistic, lying, racist kleptocrat in the oval office, from whence he has systematically done everything he can to take the food out of the mouths of the poor.

The whole world feels like it is pressing in on me, with the exception of a handful of good Christian women, without whom I would be in terrible condition.

Jesus Christ - the only king I recognize

The words of Jesus have taken on a depth of meaning for me in my old age. He predicted that people would call his name and that He would turn them away, saying that he does not know them. He knew that people would claim to be Christian but do the exact opposite of what He commanded. He knew I would be in this position, and the ball is now in my court.

Now I must forgive everyone who hurts me and pray for everyone who attacks me. I must fight the natural impulse to retaliate and, instead, wish the best for everyone;, including the petty little women who push me out of artistic groups. Of course, "the best" entails that these people will be accepted into heaven and, in order for that to happen, they must obey the commandments of Jesus. One could say that praying for them is enlightened self interest, and I think Jesus is probably OK with that.

I ask that you pray for them also.

 Silver Rose Parnell

(c) Copyright 2018

All rights reserved.

PLEASE PRAY FOR THE HERMIT

Things are looking more and more bleak, and I am beginning to understand the loss of heart, faith and hope among the poor.

Today, I woke from a nap to see a strange man staring at me through my window while fondling himself with a red bandana. I freaked out, of course, jumped up from my chair and did my best to wake myself up as soon as possible. I had the typical vertigo that I get when I awake, and it took a few minutes to get my bearings and try to decide what to do. My PTSD adrenaline kicked in automatically. I was spinning around the apartment.

Eventually, I heard a voice outside my door. I opened it to find the transient leaning against the opposite wall where there was an open electrical outlet. (The painters had been using it for their multiple electrical machineries and didn't bother to reinstall the locking cap.) He was talking on his cell phone while he continued to steal the electricity from the building.

The man was about 5 feet 10 inches tall, red haired, highly freckled. He was carrying a big black backpack that was wide open and revealed what appeared very much to be a policeman's baton. You can do a lot of damage with one of those.

My automatic reaction was to yell at him and tell him to get lost. What I didn't know is that he'd been there long enough to defecate ON THE SIDEWALK near my window.

I was flabbergasted, and running hot on adrenaline. I'd called a neighbor with whom I'm friendly. She's older than I am and a little more beaten up, but I wanted some company while I walked the dog. It was time for him to do his business and I didn't feel safe in the parking lot yet.

My neighbor didn't like it that I was upset and reeling from the experience, and she attempted to calm me down by telling me to calm down, which never works,of course. I don't know why people do that. Even though it is natural to be upset about something so bizarre happening to a person, they tell you relax, even though it is stupid and impossible. Perhaps the upset makes them nervous or uncomfortable. They can't themselves remain calm in the presence of someone who has been severely jangled.

There are some circumstances under which being calm is NOT the answer. Generally, I am calm, and I enjoy it, but when transients are violating your dignity through a plate glass window and depositing feces on the sidewalk before casually stealing electricity, being calm would be rather odd, in my mind.

I had to call the maintenance man, completely oblivious that it is super bowl Sunday and that he was most certainly watching the game. He did come out during half time, and I think he is a real brick for doing it. He cleaned up the feces from the sidewalk outside my window while the police office talked to me about what had happened.

We were promised that the police would keep an eye on us tonight, with the hope that the locking plate for the electrical outlet would be fixed ASAP.

This has happened before. Whenever the plate over the electrical outlet goes missing, word gets around the homeless population and there ensues a constant stream of transients outside my door, bellowing their odd personal business into their cell phones while the cell phone charges at the same time.

I told the police officer that I understand that most of these homeless people just CANT live like the rest of us do. If you put them into an apartment, they wouldn't know how to live there. Camping out in the Bosque is preferable to some people, even in the biting cold of winter. I crochet hats for them and give them to the Joy Junction people who send their van out on the cold nights to pick up the willing homeless and take them to their facility. They give the hats to the ones who refuse to go, the ones they leave behind. It isn't just poverty that keeps them in the street or in the Bosque. It's temperament and/or insanity. I understand. I am unusual, in my own way, and, although I have no problem living indoors, I have other problems with some parts of civilization with which most people have no problem coping. Perhaps coping isn't the word, really, because for most people these things are not problems at all.

For the last three years I have been trying to find another place to live, someplace near friends who have middle class lives, near middle class grocery stores. They have comfortable old houses, with landscaping of varying pleasantness. Nothing too fancy. I like it there, in the middle of the road of life. I don't crave excitement, but rather ordinariness and calm.

These friends, with their large families and regular church attendance and duties, are special to me. They are kind to me, and loving. They have been trying to get me to live closer to them so they can help me easier, but finding something suitable and affordable has proven to be impossible, so far. After 3 years, they won't say they would give up. They are sturdier stock than that! They won't give up, but I think they may also be losing hope.

All of the affordable housing is located outside the magical realm of the nice middle class neighborhoods and grocery stores. Every single one is in an awful part of town, on a busy main street. Nothing is available in any residential neighborhood. It is almost as if it was PLANNED that way...a plan to keep the poor away from anything pretty, good, nice or decent.

I wonder if the city planners, when they think of poor people, imagine people like the man who left excrement on my sidewalk. When people talk about what to do about the poor, is it them that they think of? In reality, poor people are mostly elderly and disabled. The homeless, in reality, take up less than 1% of the poor, but they are so visible and their behavior so memorable that they overshadow the rest of us - those who know how to keep an apartment and pay our bills.

If I was a saint, I wouldn't be so distraught. I would not concern myself with my comfort. I would simply feel sorry for the man who is so broken that he would do the things he did tonight outside my window. In reality, I feel trapped and sorrowful, stuck in an ugly life that has room for these kind of atrocities. I feel incapable of wanting to rise to sainthood. I don't even WANT to be comfortable with what has happened here tonight. Not a shred of my being is interested in self-abnegation.

I think about Mother Theresa and the hardships she CHOSE. I wish I was a better person. I don't know whether or not to pray for the courage to remain here, happily, without complaint...or run screaming to some other town or state or SOMEWHERE, anywhere but here, where the stains of that man still mar the sidewalk.

It is a sad night, my friends. Please pray for the little Hermit, that I may become better than I am.

God bless us all.

Silver Rose