Confronting Evil

March 27, year 2

Dear Dee,
I have a favor to ask. I am eligible to apply for a transfer to a California prison in November after I have been here for 18 months. Could you do some research on Lompoc? That is where all of Nixon's guys went and used to be known as "Club Fed." I'd also like to get some info on Terminal Island in Long Beach.

I feel like a very privileged UU, thanks to you. I need only tell you what is troubling my soul and I get a sermon in the mail that is tailored to address that condition. It's almost like having a vending machine that dispenses sermons to order. I know finding just the right one at the right time must be time-consuming for you, so I want to express my deepest gratitude for your enduring kindness.

This morning I read "Confronting Evil," which you sent in response to my on-going distress about the "cat-kicker" (see The first principle--really? March 13 blog) and those like him with whom I spend my days. I won't say that, upon finishing it, the clouds parted and clarity descended from on high, but the material did give me plenty of food for thought whereas previously, I was just bashing my head against the unyielding wall that was the First Principle.

This, of course, was geared toward those who were still wrestling with the fallout from 9/11. I have to say that I found it easier to see the point of view of the men who brought down the World Trade Center than that of the person who kicked the cat. (I started to write "idiot" rather than "person" so I guess that's progress.) The terrorists, at least, believed they were combating evil rather than doing something evil on the spur of the moment for their own amusement.


For all the points of view expressed in this sermon, the one that made the most sense came from the woman who served as a chaplain at the ruins of the twin towers and who said, "There are some people who have something wrong with them." That is most definitely the case here where many are suffering from arrested emotional development. One theologian in the sermon posits, "Evil is that which dehumanizes." That is common here. We have one large man here who likes to shove older men out of his way when walking down a hallway. For many here, older people are just in the way. (Mexicans, however, are culturally disposed to respect their elders.)

One passage that did make me stop and think evoked the Quaker concept that there is something of God in every individual. This dovetails perfectly with my own concept of God as an intelligent field of energy, a part of which inhabits every living thing. It is the spark of life that we think of as the soul, though I extend it to animals, plants, anything that lives. So that would mean that even the "cat-kicker" has God inside him. Food for thought, indeed.

But I wavered back in the other direction when I read, "If we back away from our affirmation of the sacred potential, the inherent worth of every person, aren't we agreeing with Hitler and bin Laden that some people should be eliminated?" Yes, we are. Would not the world have been a better place if Hitler had been assassinated early in the war? Same with bin Laden. The fact that they endorsed that idea doesn't make it wrong, particularly where they themselves are concerned.

And there was some sense to what the non-UU religious liberal wrote: "Human behavior is a bell curve. The overwhelming majority are good folks, some few are saints, some are sociopaths, psychopaths, evil people." How does one argue with that logic?

There was also great sense to the idea the first principle does not claim that every person has worth and dignity, but that it attributes them as values; that the world is a better place if we treat everyone as though they have worth and dignity, even if they do not return the favor.

Lots and lots to think about, but at least I don't feel stuck anymore.

Love, Kent

Goodnight, Joe

It was in March of this year that Kent's oldest friend passed away. He was someone I had also known and hung around with when we were all in our 20s and 30s. When I told Kent of Joe's passing, he wrote a eulogy and asked me to read it at the "celebration of life" that was held for Joe. Here it is in part:

I write these words while the news of Joe's passing is still sizzling white-hot in my brain. What do you say when you have lost your best friend? That was Joe to me, an integral part of my life for half a century. We have not seen much of each other in recent years, a result of distance and circumstance. But friendship--real friendship--doesn't go away. It stands like a well-built edifice, impervious to foul weather and natural disaster. And so it is with Joe, still my oldest and best friend, even though he is no longer available to keep up his end of the bargain.

That's how it always was with us. We could go for six months without seeing each other and then when we did, it was as if no time at all had passed, There was nothing worn away in the fabric of our relationship; no weak spots; no ruts in the road.

I feel at the moment of this writing as though I have suffered a spiritual amputation. Something that was a part of me for most of my life has been cut away. But as it goes with amputations, it still feels as though it is there. So, Joe, in case you're hanging in the air today, listening to what we all have to say about you, let me leave you with the dying words of Cyrano de Bergerac: "Yes, all my laurels you have riven away and all my roses. Yet, in spite of you, there is one crown I bear away with me. And tonight, when I enter before God, my salute shall sweep all the stars away from the blue threshold. One thing--without stain--unspotted from the world--in spite of doom, mine own, and that is...my white plume." 
Goodnight, Joe.

The joy of receiving

March 25, year 2

Dear Dee,
Thank you again for the sermons you send, but in particular, for the one about receiving. I think it's especially gutsy for a minister to say that Jesus didn't get it right when he said it was more blessed to give than to receive. That sermon and the sentiments it expressed had special import for me and what I'm going through at the moment. I had just written to my daughter asking her to get several things done for me. After listing them, I felt guilty making such demands on her time, which is at a premium right now. I told her how frustrating it was for me to be in good health and fully in control of my faculties, and yet be totally helpless and unable to do anything for myself.

I have indeed been feeling guilty about asking for things and worrying about the money people spend on me to send me books and magazines. The sermon gently reminded me that people do these things for me because I still have value in their lives. That's a monumentally important message for me to assimilate, given the fact that I have spent the better part of the last year and a half feeling totally bereft of any worth.

I'm glad that I was able to embrace Unitarian Universalism before I came in here. I lean on it almost daily, particularly the admonition to "honor the inherent worth and dignity of every human being." That isn't an easy feat in here, particularly with those who openly disrespect me because of my age (67) or my charge. It is very easy to slip into feelings of superiority. But I feel good that I am actively working on being a better man than I am.

Thanks for hanging in there with me and for actively helping with my spiritual enlightenment as well as helping to keep me entertained and informed.

Love, Kent