Demonizing the Adversary
Hasatan - ο αντιδικος υμων διαβολος
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Demonizing the Adversary
The Adversary in mind just now is the Imperial Japanese Navy that changed the course of history 72 years ago this morning,
opening to us the way of empire. Had Tojo foreseen his hangmans noose or known that three-quarters of a century later U.S. armed forces would still be the primary defense presence in Japan, they surely would have paused and turned their carriers around. Admiral Yamamoto, credited with opposing a Japanese war with the United States was given the line in Tora, Tora, Tora, 'I fear that we have awakened a sleeping giant and filled him with a terrible resolve.'
We will see many remembrances of Pearl Harbor this morning. As for me, what posted yesterday as unseasonal diatribe on the negative and expanded as the day progressed, comes now to the all-consuming intercollegiate football and sports rivalries that we perceive as real, no longer know is artificial, not of substance, occupying the fringe of reality -- demonstrated by cars with football team flags flying on each side and driven not only by roadrage graduates but also by characters, persons of interest who have never seen the ivy walls of a university building much less the insides of a classroom -- building --
opening to us the way of empire. Had Tojo foreseen his hangmans noose or known that three-quarters of a century later U.S. armed forces would still be the primary defense presence in Japan, they surely would have paused and turned their carriers around. Admiral Yamamoto, credited with opposing a Japanese war with the United States was given the line in Tora, Tora, Tora, 'I fear that we have awakened a sleeping giant and filled him with a terrible resolve.'
We will see many remembrances of Pearl Harbor this morning. As for me, what posted yesterday as unseasonal diatribe on the negative and expanded as the day progressed, comes now to the all-consuming intercollegiate football and sports rivalries that we perceive as real, no longer know is artificial, not of substance, occupying the fringe of reality -- demonstrated by cars with football team flags flying on each side and driven not only by roadrage graduates but also by characters, persons of interest who have never seen the ivy walls of a university building much less the insides of a classroom -- building --
-- building over the CFB season to the climax of last week's Rivalry Games, vehemence that we incredibly without reservation or shame express and seem truly to feel as hatred for other schools and opposing teams.
In some countries sports rivalry leads to violence, riots, injuries and often deaths, perhaps we aren’t there yet; but no, we are there, we arrive when an Alabama diner to his waitress who expressd pride in Auburn, in rude meanness "tips" her by angrily writing "Roll Tide" in place of the customary cash gratuity to a service person -- then hate becomes more real than any game. The difference in petty hateful meanness and murderous rioting is of degree only when, losing our sense of sportsmanship and taking leave of human decency, we become fools, raca.
In some countries sports rivalry leads to violence, riots, injuries and often deaths, perhaps we aren’t there yet; but no, we are there, we arrive when an Alabama diner to his waitress who expressd pride in Auburn, in rude meanness "tips" her by angrily writing "Roll Tide" in place of the customary cash gratuity to a service person -- then hate becomes more real than any game. The difference in petty hateful meanness and murderous rioting is of degree only when, losing our sense of sportsmanship and taking leave of human decency, we become fools, raca.
It grieves deeply when people I love express mindless hatred of this ilk. Years ago Linda and I would visit with relatives in the Birmingham area, gathering for reunion at a scenic hilltop restaurant The Club. We lost interest in seeing those folks, lost respect and even stopped caring to be around them, lapsed contact as their entire dinner conversation invariably focused offensively, angrily, personally, venomously on intrastate football rivalry across the dinnertable. In this and other CFB seasons, examining myself in Advent as CFB season ends, I find myself also having had such feelings that diminish my humanity as a child of God.
To clarify: does it matter to God? As a sometime high school chaplain of sorts I opened any number of football games from the pressbox with prayer for the Apalachicola Sharks, yet always and only for the laugh it evoked among the crowd. In our mind we know that when all is said and done "it's just a game, for chrissake" and godly prayer can only be for good sportsmanship and a safe game. Even the emptiest of raca would not assert that the scores of today's NCAAF conference championship games concern the Deity. And so --
-- sin is definable as precisely that which matters to us that does not matter to Adonai Elohim. Again, sin is that which matters to God about which our personal, corporate and national lives show that we truly don't give a damn. An enviable and rewarding career for some, Sport is nevertheless entertainment, diversion and joy of life in this world. But for all the unreality of sports as substance, as a raging mob we can seem more concerned about who will play in BCS bowl games than about food, shelter, education, medical care and a decent life for the poor and needy of our land and around the world. God help us.
So, ontic of sorts, and/or ousia. We are the image of God, only Christ is the substance of God. The image of the Divine is seen in the life of Pope Francis, lifelong keen soccer fan; as opposed to the image of The Adversary seen in those who express hatred for this Successor to Peter and Vicar of Christ. For me today,
Go Knights.
Go Tigers.
(gulp, gulp) Go ‘Noles (gulp, gag, gulp)
TW
Gators
MGoBlue
oh what the hell, stomp 'em.
Gators
MGoBlue
oh what the hell, stomp 'em.