On The Wing

Editor’s Note: This piece first appeared at Like The Dew, Journal of Southern Culture & Politics

Pope Benedict XVI last week delivered his most definitive statement and apology for the sex scandal that has been plaguing the Roman Catholic Church for the better part of  the last decade. Standing before thousands of priests in St. Peter’s Square on Friday, the Pope begged forgiveness and was quoted  by the New York Times as saying he would do “everything possible” to prevent priests from abusing children.

Bishopaccountability.org, a U.S. based organization that documents the abuse crisis in the Church called the Pope’s  remarks a squandered opportunity and asked for the Holy Father to “endorse and facilitate certain external measures that would increase transparency and advance justice,” including posting all abuse cases handled by the Vatican on the Vatican Web site and ordering “his bishops to cooperate fully with secular investigations, not oppose them.”

In revealing a new detailed explanation of the forces at work behind the scandal, the Pope said the Devil was behind the scandal, saying it had emerged now, in the middle of the Vatican’s Year of the Priest, because “the enemy,” or the Devil, wants to see “God driven out of the world.”

The Pope,  rumored to be a  huge fan of the late comedian, Flip Wilson, was reported to have been watching the “Best of” the comic’s 70s variety series just before making his “Devil made them do it” statements. One report also indicates Wilson’s Grammy award winning comedy album, The Devil Made Me Buy This Dress is a favorite in the Pope-mobile CD player.

This reporter’s repeated attempts at reaching the Devil for comment have as yet gone unanswered.

Editor’s note: Andreas Sundgren is an entrepreneur, songwriter, and  writer. Until recently he was the CEO and Market Director of a small but successful software company. Not content with capitalist ways he gave it up to pursue story telling. On The Wing is pleased to debut his work with you on our pages.

L.A. Mujahedin

By Andreas Sundgren

It’s the first week of July 2005. I’m a traveling salesman in LA. In a few days four bombs will detonate in the London underground killing 52 people making it even harder to get through security going back home than it was getting here. Because of the actions of individuals and governments in preceding years the Western world is setting up a new curtain less than a decade after the last one fell. You would think, seeing events unfold, that the world is dividing itself into islands of culture and that complete separation is inevitable. That is until you find yourself in California.

On the furthermost stretch of Ventura, in Calabasas, where it crosses Topanga Canyon Road I hail a cab. The driver is shouting loudly into his cell phone as he picks me up. The language is not immediately recognizable and I start flipping through my head to make at least an educated guess. Then it hits me and I ask him,

”Where are you from?”

”Afghanistan.”

”I’m reading a novel about Afghanistan.”

”Yeah? What’s it called?”

”The Kite Runner”

”The Kite Runner?”

”Yes, The Kite Runner. You know like a kite that flies.”

The guy looks at me in the rear view mirror like I’m out of my mind all the while cruising in high speed left and right between the cars on Ventura on death defying autopilot.

”Ah, what’s it about?”

”It’s about two boys growing up in Kabul before the revolution and the war.”

”What’s the name of the writer?”

He speaks perfect American English.

”Khalid, Khalid…” I can’t remember the name. He interrupts me.

”Have you heard of the Mujahedin?”

”Yes, why?”

”I was in the Mujahedin. I was a warrior. For four years.”

My head is instantly filled with images of serious, skinny, bearded men on gray mountainsides wearing gray turbans, gray shawls and gray kameez smoking and carrying dusty gray AK-47s and ground to air missiles. These are the men currently designated the most serious threat to western civilization. Apparently they drive LA cabs too.

”Must’ve been awful.” I blurt out, struggling to find a way between curiosity and the politically correct. ”The war I mean, the Soviet invasion…” He cuts me off.

”The best fucking four years of my life. When you have a machine gun you’re never afraid of anything or anyone.”

Getting back to the original subject he asks,

”So what’s the book about?”

”Well, after the revolution one of the boys and his father goes to America where the boy grows up and marries. The boy that stays behind in Afghanistan eventually gets killed. I think the story is about the boy that moves to America as he tries to find himself and his quest for…”

I haven’t finished the novel and yet I try to explain the plot, the chronology of it, how as I understand, it describes the segregation between different ethnic groups in the native country as well as after the US asylum. How the segregation becomes even more pronounced when taken out of geographical and cultural context. Of course I fail miserably. But I don’t have to worry. Once again reality trumps my feeble attempt at formulation because in the middle of it the cab driver cuts me off again and, knowingly or unknowingly, summarizes it for me.

”Where in America?”

”What?”

”To where in America does this boy move?”

”To San Francisco.”

”San Francisco? Only bad people went there. Those people will sell anything for money, their own grandmother. You get good and bad people in all countries you know. You can never really say that one whole people is like this or like that. All people are different persons. You know?”

I’m silenced by the overwhelming array of questions I should be asking this man. Like why is he here? How true is his reality in relation to that described by the book? Why is it that we never hear about the underlying issues of class and race that play into the endless conflict when we hear of his country? I also want to say how sad I am that I will never in my lifetime be able to travel freely in this fairytale country of his because I, being Caucasian with a very pronounced American accent and as a consequence of the actions of other men, would probably be marked there from the moment I took my first step on Afghan soil.

In the span of a cab ride however, there is not enough time. That’s the difference between a traveling sales man and a real reporter I guess. The ability to seize that moment to ask the right questions and say the right things.

He turns into the driveway of the Calabasas Country Inn. He stops smoothly, I pay him, tip him, say goodbye and off into the night rolls the LA Mujahedin.

Editor’s Note: Andrew Bowen asks questions out loud that are often whispered in places of worship if spoken at all. Not one to shy away from inquiry that  challenges belief systems to their very core, his is a voice in the contemporary lit scene that invites discourse, prods polemics and seeks to illuminate the tenets of  faith wherever they may lead.

He is founder of Divine Dirt Quarterly , an online literary journal that provides a forum for theological discussion, narrative, inquiry and debate.

His work has appeared or is forthcoming in places like Prick of the Spindle, Metazen, decomP, Wrong Tree Review and more. His first novella, Tits and Tats, is coming soon from Rebel Satori Press.

Is God Pro-Choice?

by Andrew Bowen

According to a Gallup poll taken in May of 2009, 51% of Americans now claim to be “pro-life”. The score for “pro-choicers”: 42%. That’s the first time since the folks at Gallup began asking this question back in 1995 that pro-life has taken the lead.

Does this mean that the religious among us are turning the tables on policy? Well, that depends on who you ask. LifeNews.com conducted a poll in September of 2009 which pitted conservative Christians and the views of their liberal brethren against one another. Their findings? 60% of conservative Christians believe abortion should be illegal without exception while only 26% of liberals believe the option should be available, no holds barred.

But what about other faiths? According to the U.S. Religious Landscape Survey by The Pew Forum in 2007, Muslims were split down the middle. Jews, Hindus, Buddhist, and minority faiths on the other hand leaned heavily toward abortion’s legality, while Protestant Christians held only a slightly higher percentage in the pro-choice camp.

So what does this mean? Nothing really, unless you introduce God’s opinion.

If anything, the previous numbers display an ebb and flow in how the disposition of God’s people and the traditional views of God himself are indeed very different.

Let’s look at a few verses of scripture:

Bible/Septuagint: Exodus 20:13- “Thou shall not kill.”

Qur’an: Sura 17:31- “You shall not kill your children due to fear of poverty. We provide for them, as well as for you. Killing them is a gross offense.”

The Dharani Sutra: “There are five kinds of Evil Karma which are difficult to extinguish…the third is abortion.”

The Vedas: “Wipe off, O Pushan [Lord], the sins of him that practiseth abortion.”

So the consensus appears to be that no one “upstairs” likes abortion, and truth be told, no one down here really likes it either. Ask any pro-choicer if they enjoy the idea of killing a fetus and the answer is usually no. The argument for them is the freedom of a woman to determine what happens to her body. Interestingly enough, in nearly every religious camp, exceptions are made for abortion by adherents when it comes to the health and safety of the mother.

So where’s the problem? The religious right who, according to the numbers, holds the current majority on this view and are pulling on moderate America. And they argue, packing round after round of scripture, that God Almighty is on their side.

But what about issues like capital punishment, war, the environment, and other issues right-wingers traditionally support that extinguish life? I digress…

At any rate, these folks make a sound point with regard to God’s will as it should affect abortion policy. In all faiths reviewed, word from on high unanimously agrees that killing kids is bad. But there’s one caveat: free will.

This explains how religious right tendencies shift from policy to policy regardless of the plain language of “Thou shall not kill.” We get to choose. But we can’t just pick on “the right”. I would challenge any left-leaning pro-choicer who supports the Ten Commandments to submit themselves to the same irony in their beliefs.

Ask any Jedeo-Christian-Muslim what God’s crowning achievement was in the design of Man and they will more than like reach the consensus of free will. Humanity is unique in nature in its capacity to determine its own fate despite instinct. Suicide, over indulgence in everything from food to sex, masochism, and relentless curiosity—these are idiosyncratic traits of humanity…all because God got bored and decided to liven things up a bit.

Sure, some constants are present: one plus one will always equal two; the speed of light is constant; Wiley Coyote will always end up falling off a cliff. These are aspects of Creation that in a linear infinity will always have the same result.

But on a cosmic level, predictability gets old and apparently, God likes rebels. In every religious tradition we are provided with creeds, precepts, commandments, etc. that are designed to regulate life, but humanity has a knack for breaking the rules. So why is God pro-choice? Because, in the beginning, he gave us a choice: roam the garden or partake of the forbidden fruit. The entire premise of our creation (according to the Middle Eastern traditions) is fellowship with the divine by free will, not forced subservience. Throughout theology humanity is always presented with a decision, and God—because he created us as free agents—is obligated to honor his blueprint lest he become a tyrant.

In the Qur’an, Sura 2:256: “There is no compulsion in religion.”

Bible: Luke 23:34: “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

We killed Jesus. We shot Martin Luther King, Jr. We broke the sound barrier. We surpassed gravity and flew to the moon. We get drunk and call our ex’s. With our choices, we do both great and deplorable things, all by design. We must resist the urge to view the divine as overly anthropomorphic and put words in his mouth or intentions in his mind. In doing this, we fall into the trap of creating idols of one’s own opinions and interpretations.

Consider ourselves as parents: we set perimeters for our children for their protection and development, however that isn’t to stop them from performing a forbidden act. In fact, we expect it. Similarly God, through revelation, sets down guidance in how to live our lives, though he cannot force us to comply, no matter how detestable an act we might commit. In the same way God, as the scriptures above clearly show, holds life as precious, but with the institution of free will he cannot force us to stay our hand.

With this in mind, I must conclude that God is in fact pro-choice. Although he holds the life of his creation dear, the greatest gift he bestowed upon humanity was the freedom to choose. If God then sees fit that we are stewards of our own fate and thus outside of his own sovereignty, does a government have any more right to tell someone what they can and cannot do with their bodies or to use the name of God as a pawn to further political agendas? Certainly, consequences befall all decisions be they positive or negative; however in a universe of innumerable constants which leave entire landscapes cold and lifeless, the right to chart one’s own moral course is an oasis unto static desolation.

Editor’s note: This post was targeted for its debut earlier this week on March 17th, St. Patrick’ Day. Yours truly goofed and forgot to push the right button. Upon second read however, I get a better feel for the patron saint in question and realize his due is grander than one day’s worth of recognition. After reading this piece, I think you’ll feel that way too.

Jeanette Cheezum lives in Virginia Beach, Virginia, where she watches the rolling surf for inspiration. You can find her work on several online writing sites. She has been published in three of Smith Magazines anthology books, and two of Six Sentences anthology books. Forthcoming: Harbinger*33*.

A belated happy anniversary to Jeanette and her husband who have an extra special reason to celebrate this time of year.

St. Patrick’s Day

by Jeanette Cheezum

It’s said that St. Patrick is a patron saint of Ireland. A huge portion of the world has always celebrated this day with the Irish. When I was a child, in elementary school, if we didn’t wear green, the boys would pinch us. By the time I reached junior high, the boys would try to kiss us. (There is always room for change as time goes on).

Wearing of the green, parades, shamrock races, cabbage and corned beef and green Guinness at our local pubs, isn’t that what it’s all about? Apparently not– We celebrate St. Patrick and all he strived for on March seventeenth, the day he left for the great beyond.

At the age of sixteen Maewyn Succcat, a Brit, was kidnapped by the Celtics and basically put into slavery as a sheep herder for six years. Lonely and afraid he turned to religion. Then one night God came to him in a dream. Maewyn planned his escape; he’d walk a couple of hundred miles to the coast to study religion abroad. Once in England he changed his name to Patriius, and studied for fifteen years. Irish history says he became a spiritual man with visions.

At the age of sixty, once again he changed his name to Patrick and returned to Ireland. He had a unique and gentle way about him and was able to convert the Irish from paganism. Since the Irish had worshipped the sun, he superimposed a sun on a Christian cross which became the Celtic cross. Down through the centuries we’re told that he was able to scare the snakes out of Ireland. Although it’s reported that this took place during the ice age. So, were there really snakes in Ireland? No matter, let’s dye our hair, wear green and drink ale of the same color. If not celebrating for these reasons, then celebrate with my husband and me on March seventeenth, because it’s our thirty first wedding anniversary. And that’s no fairytale.

Copyright 2010 Jeanette Cheezum

Editor’s note. The America farm. Once the envy of the world, today a battleground between Corporate America, genetic scientists and sound economic policy. Thomas Sullivan has his take on the very real displacement that occurs when Corporate Uncle Sam spreads his winds across borders, sending economic shock waves both near and far.

Our Apologies Senor

By Thomas Sullivan

The two middle-aged guys that I passed while first checking out the beach are still sitting under a tiki-umbrella with drinks when I mosey up to the outdoor lounge three hours later. I grab the empty table next to them and watch in awe as the enormous Mexican sun sinks further into the horizon. Birds sail past silently, gliding over the gently churning water. The flock looks like it is skipping between the specks of light reflecting off the waves. The beaches on the Yucatan are absolutely wonderful.

A loud grunt disrupts my placid ocean viewing and I turn to locate its source. The larger of the two guys has removed his cowboy hat and is wiping his brow with the strap from a cotton tank-top. He waves a meaty hand in the air, calling for another drink. A slender server wearing khakis and a dress shirt with tie hustles across the sand to their table. He takes the drink order and inquires about their possible interest in dinner. A meal perhaps, amigos? The men wave this off and direct the server to bring more chips (free). Then they resume talking about the cell phone business in their deep Texan drawl.

I turn back to the water. The sun has set fully, releasing a warm and gentle breeze across the beach. A fat moon rises behind us and bathes the ocean’s edge in a soft light. The scene is one of pure peace and tranquility.

The guy in the cowboy hat lifts out of his seat, wobbles through a turn, and marches unsteadily towards the water. He staggers to a stop at the surfs edge and stands in place, backlit by the moon glow. Then he grips the top of his shorts below his big gut, unzips his fly, and starts urinating in the water.

The scene is no longer one of peace and tranquility.

A sizeable wave crashes near the guy’s feet. He struggles against the resulting undertow and goes down, face forward. He lies on his stomach flapping his arms as water courses over his flabby frame. The undertow drags sand over his legs and into his shorts. It’s a truly avant-garde spectacle of man versus nature.

His friend and the Mexican server jog towards him like a Greenpeace rescue squad. They each take an arm, lift the guy to his feet, and escort him back to the table. The guy falls into his chair like a creature that has just completed a difficult evolutionary transition from water to land. He coughs and hacks for a bit, dislodging salt water and sand. Then he tries to order another drink.

I look at the guy’s chest and face, which are covered with wet sand, and think about something the Mayan guide told me as we puttered through a UN biosphere reserve. After NAFTA passed, many small farmers were displaced by cheap, heavily subsidized imports of American corn. They could no longer sell their crop to a local market they had been sourcing to for centuries. To survive they often ended up seeking employment in resorts like this one.

The server approaches with a towel. The guy grabs it without thanks and starts wiping off his pudgy face and hairy chest. I look at the server and wonder if he was once a proud farmer now reduced to serving drunken sleaze.

The pair stands up and starts heading for the hotel behind the tiki lounge. The dry guy falls in line behind the urinator as they enter a dirt pathway between a row of small yucca plants. As they move under a stucco arch the urinator swerves hard to the left and slams into a wall. He reaches for his forehead and then stumbles back into the other guy’s arms. The server just stands and watches, done with the whole affair. His air is one of resignation, suggesting that this is not a unique occurrence. He knows that another gringo will take the guy’s place in short order.

I wave for my bill while pondering dislocation. We Americans like to think of ourselves as a wellspring of inspiration and economic development for the rest of the world, but we’re actually quite the opposite. Our agricultural mega-industry displaces indigenous farmers around the world. Our factory-like movie industry smothers local filmmaking. Our fast food gulags threaten local cuisine and imprison people in their own obesity. And so on. It’s always big and always about making more money than we ever needed. If it was my economy that got undermined and my choices were (1) serving drinks to classless Texans or (2) making junk in a nasty American maquiladora or (3) risking my life trekking across a scorching desert to pick your fruit while being harassed by crackpot Minutemen, you can bet I’d choose option #4, growing drugs and selling them to your kids.

And the sight of a fat, drunken American lying facedown and choking on the surf of a foreign land? That’s the perfect metaphor for the world fighting back against callous greed and insatiability.

I pay my bill, leaving a huge tip for the server, something like 900%. He’s more than earned it.

Colin Graham Sheds Light On Strange Actions of Late

Editors note: Colin Graham is a British freelance journalist based in Belgrade, Serbia. He has previously lived in Poland and Russia and covers Central and Eastern Europe for various publications.

His piece below highlights the continuing conflicted nature of human drama in the region.

Serbia vs Croatia – Not Exactly by Colin Graham

A very strange thing happened this week, Serbia filed war crimes charges against Croatia at the International Court of Human Rights in The Hague for events that occurred during the Yugoslavian Wars of the 1990s.

For many, that will not seem one bit odd. After all, the nations are renowned as bitter enemies who shed the blood of one another’s citizens with remorseless zeal during the harrowing conflict which Croatia calls its War of Independence and the Serbs a civil war. (more…)