Duty on Christmas Day

Duty on Christmas Day

Gregory B. Talley

Duty on Christmas Day is generally slow in a small community.  Probably the best things about having to work on that holiday was that if you had the day shift you could go home at two-thirty in the afternoon and still have a good part of the day to spend with your family.  Those of us who had swing shift could be with our families in the morning and watch the kids discover the magic of Christmas in the early hours of the day.  I was a swing-shifter.  I was also the watch commander.

The other good thing about working Christmas was getting paid double-time and-a-half for the holiday.

Unlike Thanksgiving, people don’t watch to see you coming down their street so they can bring you turkey sandwiches and pecan pie.  Instead, they bring boxes of candy or homemade cookies and brownies to the police station for a week or two before Christmas.  You don’t eat things from people you don’t know.

Christmas is pretty quiet.  And slow.  It is slow enough that we let people go home for an hour to eat dinner with their families, but not all at the same time.  That Christmas was that way.

I had served a three-year stint as a patrol officer then another three years as a detective.  Without a doubt detective work gives a police officer a great deal of freedom; the kind that breaks one free of strict work hours and district assignments.  With the freedom comes a great deal of responsibility and long hours on the job, many of which do not come with any sort of compensation.  After three years as a detective I was ready to move back to being on patrol.

I was the newest sergeant on the department.  New sergeants were often assigned to swing shift.  It was a tough shift on our department.  There were always traffic accidents to work during the evening rush hour.  Runaways were generally reported missing when they didn’t come home from school.  There was always a steady flow of petty crimes and felonies to keep you busy.  Weekend parties in the summer typically began during the hours of swing shift and they were always good for drug and alcohol violations.  And, in the winter you could count on a couple of house fires to keep you occupied in the evening.  I loved swing shift.

Death.  Death is a fact of life in law enforcement.  Deaths from natural causes were generally reported on day shift when one spouse woke up and the other didn’t. It seems like most deaths from natural causes took place in bed or on the toilet.  The ones on the toilet are the tough ones to work.  You kind of hate to invade a person’s personal space.  When they remain in the upright and locked position they aren’t too difficult to deal with, but there are a fair number of folks who just roll off the pot and onto the floor.  They often end up wedged between the toilet and something else—generally the bathtub.  Think rigor mortis.

Accidental deaths could happen at any time of the day but seemed to occur most frequently during swing shift.  You tend to think of accidental deaths with traffic accidents, and you would be onto something there except not all accidents take place on the road.  Mary lived alone.  A neighbor was concerned because Mary wasn’t answering her phone but the neighbor could clearly see lights on in the house.  We walked into her house and there she was—face down in her mashed potatoes.  Everybody except me assumed that she had a heart attack while eating dinner.  I saw the bottle of wine on the dinner table and predicted the autopsy would show that she choked to death.  I went to the autopsy and watched as the medical examiner pulled the green bean from her throat.  She choked to death.  The medical examiner called it an accidental death.

Suicides happen just about any time of the day.  I’ll never forget the woman who tried to commit suicide by slitting her wrists.  She didn’t cut deep enough and she didn’t slice in the right direction.  She obviously didn’t read the instruction manual.  Since she couldn’t bleed out she tried to drown herself.  She filled her bathtub with water and forced her head under water.  That didn’t work either as she would hold her breath as long as she could then come up gasping for air.  So, she stripped down to nothing, slit her wrists again and ran outside and around her house in the dead of winter hoping to either freeze to death or bleed to death.  The neighbors saw a “streaker” and called the police.

Then there was the guy who shot up with insecticide.  That didn’t work either, but it gave him really bad breath.  He ended up grabbing a shovel and swinging it at the police.  He was hoping for the suicide-by-cop routine.  I showed up and told him to put the shovel down and to come with me for a ride.  He dropped the shovel and cried like a baby.  A few years later he got his wish.  He broke into his ex-girlfriend’s house after she told him to go away or she would shoot him.  He persisted and broke into her house.  True to her word, she shot him.  Dead.  We didn’t charge her.  We had every reason to believe he wasn’t there to pay her a social visit.

There was something that I found in common with nearly all the suicides I worked.  They were lonely.  Often they were afraid of something in the future, like a terminal illness or loss of employment or a spouse or exposure to something humiliating.  But they were very lonely people; sometimes hurt by a single significant person, and then they were even lonelier.  So many of them had nobody else to connect to.

***

That Christmas had been like those of the past.  Quiet.  No turkey sandwiches or pecan pies from people coming out to meet you in the street.  Just left over candy and cleared cookies.  Everybody got to go home for dinner with their families.  It had turned out to be just another typical Christmas.

Ten twenty in the evening slowly made its way around the clock.  I had earlier checked what meager paperwork there was to approve for the day.  Nothing was going to happen for the remainder of the shift, so I made one last drive through town and was now backing into my parking place outside the police station.  You always back in to your space so if you need to leave again in a hurry you won’t have to look over your shoulder and carefully back up and pull out of the department’s parking lot.  The risk of collision with another backing police car is too great.

***

Randy was new on the department.  He and his wife and children moved in next door.  Their children and our youngest children were about the same ages so it was natural that the two families almost became one.  Just as our kids all played together, he and his wife and my wife and I would often get together to visit and play table games.  Randy was still young and though he had military police experience, he had quite a bit to learn about civilian policing.  He was pretty impetuous.  I had to ride herd on him a little, but he was good.  He would eventually be a very good cop.

***

Just as I was ready to put my car into park and gather my things to go home the dispatcher broadcast “Shots Fired!” and gave an address on El Viento Street.  It was on a cul-de-sac.  Under normal circumstances the drive would take about 15 minutes.  These were not normal circumstances.

“One man down!” cried the dispatcher.

I was already a quarter of the way there when she made that report.  It was very dark outside and there was no traffic.  Deer were always a concern, but they would simply have to get out of the way.  The 35 m.p.h. speed limit meant nothing at 75 m.p.h. with red and blue lights cutting into the cold night.  I turned off Trinity Drive onto Diamond Drive.

Trinity Drive, unlike its namesake, was not a dead end drive.  This drive was named after The Trinity, as in the Trinity Site where atomic weapons were tested during World War II.  Still, a fair number of people had gone to meet the Trinity on this drive.  How ironic.

The tires squealed in agony as I rounded the intersection of Diamond and Trinity.  I could see red and blue lights in my rearview mirror closing in on me as I once again sped up to meet the demand of gunfire.

***

Jared and Elaine* had lived on El Viento most of their married lives.  They had raised their children there and now there were grandchildren.  Jared had a good job in the company town and Elaine worked at the post office.  Elaine spent more time at the post office than working at the post office and she began to find more comfort with Craig than she found with Jared.  Divorce papers had already been filed.  The Department of Energy would later want Jared’s blue “Q-Clearance” security badge.

***

The dispatcher reported more gunfire at the residence on El Viento.  As I sped up even more I looked to my left to see Randy passing me.  I was doing 80; he had to be doing 90.  You don’t do anybody any good if you don’t get there.

“Another man down!”

The turn onto Barranca Mesa from Diamond Drive is tricky under normal conditions and at the posted safe speed.  I’ve seen my fair share of cars that went through the guard rail or slapped into another car or lose complete control and end up in the ditch on the opposite side of the road at that intersection.  Randy left a cloud of dust for me to drive through when I hit the intersection.  Please God, don’t let there anybody be walking across the street.  I had practiced that intersection for occasions just like this.  Once again my tires painfully protested as I rounded the second sharp turn of the evening—two more and I would be there.

***

Jared was now living in an apartment on the opposite end of town.  He had spent Christmas day with Jack Daniels.  The two of them had become good friends over the previous months.  Jack Daniels had done most of the talking through the day.  Jared sipped.  And listened.  There he was in a little apartment all alone while another man was with his wife in his home probably sitting in his rocking chair sharing Christmas with his family.  Jack Daniels was now the only one talking while Jared pondered.  “You know what to do,” Jack whispered to Jared.

***

People were standing in the street on the cul-de-sac and in the yard outside the home.  Dodging them was only another obstacle as Randy and I screamed to a stop outside the home.  The garage door was open and the light in the garage was on.  We ran with guns drawn and looking for cover as we made our way to the house.  The door leading from the garage into the kitchen was standing open.  Randy went low and covered me as I went high.  No immediate sign of threat.

***

Jared left Jack Daniels in charge, wrote a note, grabbed a jacket and his Remington 870 12-guage shotgun and drove to his house to take care of business.  How could he have made it there without being detected by any one of the four of us on duty?  At that hour of the night on Christmas there just is no traffic to be found on the streets of this national laboratory town.

He walked in through the open garage door then quietly opened the kitchen door.  From that vantage point he could easily see Elaine sitting on Craig’s lap in his rocking chair.  There must have been quite a bit of noise in the house as Jared was able to walk through the kitchen and up behind Craig and Elaine without being detected.

***

With weapons still drawn Randy and I slipped into the kitchen and made our way to the crime scene.  Somewhere in the house a baby was crying.  A woman’s figure was on her knees and sitting back on her heels.  She was covered with blood and little pieces of something grey all over her; her bloodied hands covered her face.  There was gut-wrenching, soulful sobbing as her body uncontrollably convulsed.  The acrid odor left behind from gunfire remained in the air.

***

The last thing Craig had felt was the cold blue steel of the business end of the shotgun.  There was nothing left to see where the shotgun had touched him below his left ear.  His hands remained on the arms of the rocking chair.  His torso was soaked in red as a sudden gush of blood rushed up to where a head had once been.  There just wasn’t anything there.

Jared had turned the shotgun to Elaine and cranked another round into the chamber.  She dropped to her knees and pleaded for the sake of their children and grandchildren that he not kill her.

***

In the next two seconds we scanned the room to find Jared prone on the floor in a pool of blood with the shotgun not far from him.  Like Craig, there was no evidence of a head to be found—only blood, pieces of scalp and hair, skull fragments, and bits and pieces of grey matter.  Jared had placed the shotgun far back under his own chin and spared Elaine and the children and the grandchildren.

Elaine was unhurt.  We left her in the care of a neighbor.  The family dog, a beagle, bit into a brain lobe laying on the floor and began to drag it over the bloody carpet.  A quick thump on the side of the head and she dropped it cold and ran for the door.  Another partial lobe began to slide down the wall.  Randy excused himself and stepped outside and made friends with a bush.  The baby and her mother were safe in a room near the front of the house.  I grabbed a blanket and moved mother and baby out the front door and away from what I relive every Christmas.

The next six hours involved diagrams and color photographs and the medical examiner and statements and a visit to Jared’s apartment.  Jack Daniels stood sentry over the note that Jared scrawled out explaining that he could not stand the thought of another man in his house with his wife.  Randy seized the blue Top Secret security badge that leaned against the sentry. 

***

            Randy got an Atari video game for Christmas.  We spent the first half hour silently taking shots at each other as we mastered the game of Tanks.  His wife later told us that she knew we were O.K. when she heard us laughing.  We played until the beginning of day shift.

*Not their real names.

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

(Note: I gave this address in 2001 on Christmas Sunday and post it here.)

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

Binghamton Ward

December 23, 2001

            “I heard the bells on Christmas day their old familiar carols play, and wild and sweet the words repeat of peace on earth, good will to men” (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow).

            It seems that it wasn’t that long ago that we celebrated the birth of the Savior.  I remember as a child that the time between each Christmas seemed so long.  Of course, summer vacation went by much too fast, but the school year seemed to drag on and on forever.  There were other holidays throughout the year and of course, you just can’t forget your birthday.  Birthdays were like your very own private holiday.  But all the  other holidays and breaks and vacations paled in comparison to Christmas.  There is something magical about Christmas, especially for children.  Initially, it was the tree and the gifts.  As I got older it was decorating the tree and eating chocolate or peanut butter fudge and drinking a concoction of hot apple cider and orange juice or lemon-lime soda with scoops of lime sherbet in it.  I remember the first night somebody came to our home and sang Christmas carols outside our front door.  I remember the first time I saw Mother cry at Christmas.  I remember how she told the story of “The Other Wise Man” by Van Dyke and how I finally came to realize that there was more to Christmas than giving and getting gifts and eating and eating and eating.  I came to understand that there is a reason for the special magic of Christmas.

            “I thought how, as the day had come, the belfries of all Christendom had rolled along the unbroken song of peace on earth, good will to men.”

            I grew up in a time we call “The Sixties”.  Some of you grew up with me.  No, we didn’t live on the same block or go to the same school, but you know what I mean.  Some of you just missed the Sixties, for which you should be grateful.  Some of you are parents of those who grew up then.  Others of you are children and grandchildren of those of us who grew up then.  Our parents grew up at a time when a great evil was threatening the world.  A war was waging “over there” but its influence was felt everywhere.  I suppose that it was inevitable, but the sleeping giant was awakened and America once again was thrust into world war.  The men and women who responded to Pearl Harbor became part of that Greatest Generation.  And, when they finished their task they returned to build what arguably is the Greatest Nation.

            We’ve been at peace for so many years.  Even when we’ve been at war during the last half century, we’ve been at peace.  No North Korea, Vietnam, nor Persian Gulf would assail our shores.  We would not allow Cuba to be a staging arena for an attack on this great soil.  Whatever the costs to keep this the land of the free and the home of the brave, we have been willing to pay it—at least so it seemed.

            I can’t quite put my finger on it.  I’m not certain when it began.  I can identify events and point to indicators, but something went wrong along the way.  People began to forget the relationship between responsibility and agency.  They got separated somewhere along the way.  Agency, it seemed was for free and there was no accountability, no responsibility.  The hue and cry was “do your own thing” which has an eerie likeness to “eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die”.  Like so many generations before us who have inherited this land and had forgotten God, we have been on a collision course with destruction.  We have become a wicked generation.  Much of television is not fit for viewing.  The Internet is infected with viruses and pornography.  Popular music promotes infidelity and promiscuity.  Chemicals pollute our environment and many of our nations’ minds.  Road rage is only a symptom of a greater disregard for decency and humanity.  For many years our crime rates have increased, and though there has been a recent downturn in crime overall, gang violence, school violence, and terrorism have all increased. 

            For so many years we thought we were safe since no foreign power had attacked our soil.  While we were busy fighting Communism and tearing down the wall in the East, we failed to fight the author of Communism and let the wall of righteousness crumble in our own backyards. 

            “And in despair I hung my head, there is no peace on earth I said.  For hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, good will to men.”

            Then “Nine-eleven” happened.  It has been as though the sleeping giant once again was awakened.  Out of that great tragedy we have seen acts of heroism, kindness, and love.  Acts of humanity and decency seem to happen in the most unlikely of places.  I have found people standing in long lines talking to each other, not grumbling about the long lines or even talking about nine-eleven, but simply talking and being friendly.  People have engaged in little acts of heroism such as holding doors open for others, helping others with large packages, and saying please and thank you.  There have been moments of silence and days of prayer.  People watch the news and cry.  Flags seem to be growing like tulips in the spring.  Words of solace are being spoken both by political and religious leaders.  For a while anyway, it seems as though our nation is making its way back to God.

            “Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: God is not dead, nor doth he sleep.  The wrong shall fail, the right prevail, with peace on earth, good will to men.”

            I don’t know about you, but this has been an especially difficult Christmas season for me.  Each time I have thought of what to give or do for somebody, images of crashing airplanes creep into my mind.  Funerals for the victims and fallen heroes replay in my mind.  I remember some of the personal stories that have come from this great tragedy.  But, as much as anything, I find myself reflecting a little bit more, a little bit longer.  I don’t know about you, but I find myself getting emotional over little things now.  I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it publicly, but I shed a tear the other day while listening to “Snoopy’s Christmas”.  You know the song.  Snoopy and the Red Barron are engaged in aerial combat and the Red Barron forces Snoopy to land and the Red Barron proposes a toast of good will to his opponent.  One could probably assume that I am going through a bit of post-traumatic stress disorder.  If I am, then I am in good company.  But I think that it is something else.  Traditionally, we start the Christmas season the day after Thanksgiving, but I think the Christmas season began this year on September Eleven.  The slump the retail industry has experienced this Christmas season has less to do with the economy and more to do with people caring about what is important.

            Then it came to me at night in a dream.  The occasion was the loss of the 116 pages of manuscript from the Book of Mormon.  The Lord spoke these words to the Prophet.  “The works, and the designs, and the purposes of God cannot be frustrated, neither can they come to naught.  For God doth not walk in crooked paths, neither doth he turn to the right hand nor to the left, neither doth he vary from that which he hath said, therefore his paths are straight, and his course is one eternal round.  Remember, remember that it is not the work of God that is frustrated, but the work of men; For although a man may have many revelations, and have power to do many mighty works, yet if he boasts in his own strength, and sets at naught the counsels of God, and follows after the dictates of his own will and carnal desires, he must fall and incur the vengeance of a just God upon him (D & C 3: 1-4).

            I have been on an emotional roller coaster since September Eleven.  At one moment I have been angry and unforgiving because my sense of security has been violated.  The next moment I am warmed by the goodness that has come from so many people during our national hour of need.  What I have needed—what we all have needed is something that we have had with us all along: the healing power of the Savior.

            We have all suffered the consequences of September Eleven.  I believe each of us has our own personal September Eleven though.  There are those who sit here today angry at a friend because of an unkindness spoken or upset with an employer because of an unjust action.  Some of you are sitting here today, brooding still over decisions that were made at the expense of your personal feelings.  There are marriages crumbling from neglect or because horrible things have been said or done.  Others have lost confidence in the abilities of associates because promises were not kept.  Consequently, you have closed doors.  You refuse to be hurt again and again.  And in doing so, you have closed the doors to the healing power of the Savior.

            I return to my dream.  “Who hath believed our report?  And to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?  For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and we shall see him, there is not beauty that we should desire him.  He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.  Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.  But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.  All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.  He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth.  He was taken from prison and from judgment: and who shall declare his generation?  for he was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgression of my people was he stricken.  And he made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death; because he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth” (Isaiah 53:  1-9).

            On this day during this Christmas season I offer to you in all humility two acts that you must do to find peace from your own September Eleven.  One, you must forgive those who have offended.  Two, turn your sorrows and your griefs over to the Lord.  There is no other way.

            “Till ringing, singing, on its way, the world revolved from night to day, a voice, a chime, a chant sublime, of peace on earth, good will to men!”

© Copyright 2002 Gregory B. Talley

Thanksgiving 1964

Thanksgiving 1964

(Loosely based on actual events)

Gregory Talley

            I always looked forward to Thanksgiving at Uncle Tex and Aunt Mary’s house.  The 90 minute drive to Linton under normal circumstances was unbearable for anybody between the ages of 5 and 18.  But, Thanksgiving was different.  Not only was it a time for the gathering of the cousins (and the requisite cheek-pinching, ooh’s and ahs’s, and “my-how-you’ve-grown” remarks from all the aunts) but it was a time to sit back and watch for the unanticipated yet fully expected fireworks.  This Thanksgiving would stand out as the granddaddy of them all.

            The day started out as a “normal” Thanksgiving, whatever that was.  Cousin Bob, the oldest cousin with children my age, pulled the clear glass bottle out of his pocket after the usual pleading of the younger cousins.  There, displayed for all to see, was the severed pinky finger permanently preserved for all to see and to remind us all of his connections to an Italian family in Chicago.  The girls ran screaming toward the kitchen.  Little Cousin Jenny stepped squarely on Foster’s tail.  Foster, Uncle Tex’s collie was perched under the side tray of Thanksgiving relishes.  Foster of course jumped and yelped, but in the process nudged the relish table just enough to send it crashing to the floor.  Silver and Berry, Aunt Mary’s cats both made a quick retreat upstairs and were not seen again for the rest of the day.

            The aunts fussed over Foster and Aunt Mary demanded that Uncle Tex place Foster outside or locked up in a bedroom upstairs.  The 10- and 11-year-old cousins pleaded with Uncle Tex to send Foster upstairs where they could play with him.  Poor Foster.

            The aunts cleaned up the mess and returned to dispensing justice to mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, rolls, home-canned green beans, stuffing,  homemade noodles,  ham, and the grand prize—that year’s turkey.

            With Cousin Bob’s preserved extra finger safely tucked away, it was time for Bob’s routine of magic tricks.  First came the thumb separation trick, which we older cousins had figured out years earlier, but it still fascinated the younger cousins.  But, next came the card tricks.  Bob could always pull off a good card trick.  “Pick a card—any card.”  And so, Uncle Howard would pick a card and then slide it back into the deck.  Like magic, Bob selected the correct card.  Then Bob pulled off the magic trick of all times.  He shuffled the cards, ran them up and down his shirt sleeve, then fanned them out for all to see, then ran them back together into a stacked deck.  With the flick of a wrist, he then fanned them out on the wall.  They stuck to the wall!  Cousin Billy was so excited with this magic feat that he ran to the wall and reached for the cards.  Cousin Bob screeched, “No!”, but it was too late.  Billy got to the cards first, half of which fell directly into the small fish aquarium.

            Anxious to help our Cousin Bob, Billy reached to the aquarium filled with angelfish to retrieve the errant cards, but Uncle Sid, the consummate fisherman, seeing Billy reaching for the cards made a preemptive strike to steady the aquarium—a full millisecond before Billy drove for the cards.  What would have been Billy’s forearm reaching to the blue rock-covered bottom of the aquarium ended up being Billy’s chin being struck by the upper edge of the glass enclosure and the weight of Uncle Sid’s fish-wrangling arms pulled down on the opposite side of the aquarium.

            Billy fell backwards, chin bleeding from a deep gash, just as Aunt Ota walked in the room carrying a bowl of hot gravy, and promptly tripped over Billy.  Luckily, there were only plates and silverware on the white table cloth-covered table.  Luckily, another table cloth would be retrieved and there would be time to re-wash dishes before dinner.  Meanwhile, though some of the water in the aquarium went straight up, most of it ended up in Uncle Sid’s face, shirt, and lap.  Aunt Mary rushed out of the kitchen to find out what the clamor was all about, hit the water and her feet went flying up as her better side came crashing down on the wet floor.  While her floor-length dress worked quite well as a sponge, it did little to cover her dignity, if you know what I mean.

            Three of the four angelfish were quickly found.  The fourth was found between the three-inch wool fringes on the rug at the foot of the chair where Uncle Sid sat.  Sid found it when he stood.  The remaining three fish were transferred to Foster’s water bowl for temporary holding, where they were forgotten.

            Cousin Bob, adhering to the principle that discretion is the better part of valor, cancelled the remainder of his Mafia Finger and Magic Card Show.  Uncle Sid, with his 36-inch waist and 15-1/2 size shirt borrowed a 44-inch pair of slacks and 17-1/2 size shirt from Uncle Tex.  The cousins, with the exception of Billy, picked up pea-size blue rocks and fishbowl castle pieces.  Miraculously, the aquarium remained intact.

            The table was finally set and Aunt Marry called for everybody to the table, including the 10- and 11-year-old cousins who were upstairs with Foster.  Uncle John was given the privilege of offering a Prayer of Thanksgiving as we all stood behind the backs of the chairs.  Bob, the magician and irreverent family member took a drink of water during the prayer, but the water only made its way partially to its destination when Uncle John thanked God that nobody had been killed in the house yet that day.  Water shooting though the nose makes such a distinctive sound.

            Thanksgiving dinner proceeded without incident.  No hits.  No runs.  No errors.  Not even Foster, who had come to dinner with the 10- and 11-year-old cousins, misbehaved.  He knew his place at the table and his place did not include begging—most of the time.

            At the conclusion of dinner, Aunt Mary announced that it was time for pie.  She and Mother and the other aunts excused themselves from the table and went to the kitchen to gather the pies.

            You don’t expect to hear a shriek from the kitchen unless there is something very wrong—like Dracula or Frankenstein peering through the window.  Clearly an empty dog’s water bowl does not merit such a reaction.  I don’t think that Uncle Tex and Aunt Mary ever replaced the angelfish.

            Before the five sisters brought the pies into the dining room, Mom asked Dad to help with one of the pies that had just come out of the oven.  Dad looked so important walking into the dining room wearing the oven mittens and carrying a fresh, hot pie.  And the pie looked so graceful as it flew from his hands and into the back end of the turkey carcass still on the dining room table.

            I do not think those were tears of thanksgiving that day.  Aunt Mary was in tears because of the perfectly ruined Thanksgiving.  Aunt Jessie was in tears because of the contribution that Cousin Billy had made to the festivities.  The remaining aunts were simply in tears and the uncles discreetly laughed through their tears.

            We cousins couldn’t wait to see what would happen on Thanksgiving of 1965.  Surely nothing could top the Thanksgiving of 1964.

            The 90-minute ride home was in silence, but I couldn’t help but smile all the way home.

Homemade Noodles and Traditions

Like many families, my family has traditions that have been handed down from generation to generation.  I am certain that some traditions have fallen by the wayside along the way and I know for a fact that new traditions have either been introduced or established.  Family traditions serve as sort of glue that binds a family.  I guess some glues lose their holding power and are replaced.

There is one particular tradition in my family that I fear is dying out.  I think I am the last one in a long line of generations to savor this tradition.  The tradition?  Homemade noodles.

Homemade noodles, you ask?

Yes, homemade noodles, especially at Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Homemade noodles were a favorite dish of my paternal and maternal grandparents.  I remember my mother rolling out the noodle dough on the countertop while a turkey was in the oven.  Once rolled out, she would use a handheld noodle cutter to cut long strips of noodles.  She would then let them dry.  After the noodles were dried she would cook them in a pot, generally along with a turkey neck.  About the time the potatoes were done cooking in the pressure cooker the noodles would be ready to come off the stove.  When done, the noodles were slippery and the meat from the turkey would simply fall off the bone.  Oh, how I loved homemade noodles, especially at Thanksgiving.

Noodle preparation was passed down from my mother to Susan, who now makes them for me at Thanksgiving.  Unfortunately, I don’t believe any of my children or grandchildren enjoy the tradition of homemade noodles the way I enjoy them.

Though new traditions come along (like an annual Turkey Bowl), it’s rather sad to think that some of the old traditions fall away.  I know for a fact that I am a third generation noodle lover and I can only believe that my grandmothers learned how to make noodles from their mothers or their mothers-in-law, who learned it from their mothers, who also learned it….  Well, you get the picture.  And, it’s rather sad that mothers’ children and their husbands and friends no longer sit around the Thanksgiving Day table and say, “You know, I think I’d like to have some more noodles with another slice of that turkey.  A little more cranberry sauce would be good, too.  I can have a slice of pie later.”  It’s rather sad to think that a tradition like noodles can’t be the glue that holds generations together.

I guess traditions are like noodles.  They are slippery, but when properly remembered they tie you to ancestors you’ve never met.  But if not, they slide away.  Luckily, I’ll be able to sit at the Thanksgiving table again this year and get to know ancestors again that I’ve never met.

It Takes Work to have Faith

As I sat contemplating world events that have transpired in recent weeks, months, and years, a question kept returning to my mind that I’ve heard many of my atheist friends ask.  It goes something like this.  “If there is a God, why does he allow war and famine and disease and crime and natural disasters?  Why doesn’t He prevent bad things from happening to good people?”

A quick note here: Since atheists don’t believe in God I’m not sure that they would capitalize the G in God or the H in He.  But, I just can’t do that.

It is not my intent to get into a discussion about why God doesn’t intervene, though the question presupposes that He doesn’t intervene or that He doesn’t have a higher purpose in not intervening, which I am not in a position to answer.  I’m not God.  I think that there is something else at work here.

As I pondered on that question another thought came to my mind.  In essence, it is that it takes hard work to believe and trust in God.  It takes work to have faith in God.  It is easy to dismiss the very existence of God if you cannot see Him, if you have not heard His voice, if you have not followed His footsteps in the sand.  It doesn’t take any work; it doesn’t take any effort to not believe in God.  All you have to do is look around and say, “I don’t see Him.  I don’t know anybody who has seen Him (in spite of all the scriptural evidence).  He hasn’t revealed Himself to me.  I’ve not heard His voice.  Therefore, He is not.  He does not exist.”

It is interesting how this works.  For generations people could not see bacteria, yet they believed.  And then they saw.  For generations people could not see molecules, yet they believed.  And then they saw.  For generations people could not see atoms, yet they believed.  And then they saw.  It is so easy for people to believe in the physical without seeing.  Then with the search, they are able to see.

As a believer I have often been criticized because of my belief in the necessity of works to accompany faith.  Unfortunately, people don’t understand that my faith does not teach or believe that we can work our way into Heaven.  To the contrary, we know that it is by grace that we are saved.  You see, we believe that it is necessary to obey the commandments to enter the presence of God, but it isn’t just a matter of obedience.  Further, there are different levels of obedience.  Some people obey because they are afraid of the punishment that will follow if they disobey.  Others obey because they want the reward.  A higher level of obedience comes simply because they love the Savior and want to please Him.  They obey because they love the Lord.  This level is nearly perfect, but I believe there is an even higher level that the Lord wants us to achieve and that is to obey because that is who we are.  It is our nature to do what is right because that is who we are. Yes, it is an outgrowth of obedience because of our love of the Savior, but it has grown to an entirely new level. In this regard, we have become as Him.  This level approximates the fulfillment of the Savior’s admonition to become perfect even as He is perfect (Matt. 5: 48).  Clearly, we are not perfect, but when we come to obey because that is who we are we have then achieved this one divine attribute.  It is a difficult challenge, but I believe we can achieve this perfect obedience one divine attribute at a time and that we have eternity to get there.

I digress.  I always do.

But as I thought of how easy it must be to be an atheist and how hard it is to believe, the oft quoted scripture in James came to mind.  “Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone.  Yea, a man may say, Thou hast faith, and I have works: shew me thy faith without thy works, and I will shew thee my faith by my works. Thou believest that there is one God; thou doest well: the devils also believe, and tremble.  But wilt thou know, O vain man, that faith without works is dead?” (James 2:17 - 20).

And then it hit me.  This scripture has a second meaning.  It takes work to have faith.  Without effort; without hard laborious work; without that desire to believe and without thrusting in with all your effort there can be no faith.  Indeed, faith without works is dead.

It would be so much easier to do nothing and to live a moral life and not be concerned about what may follow.

I'd rather work.

Why the Backlash against the LDS Church's Stance on Gays in the Church should Concern You

Why the Backlash against the LDS Church's Stance on

Gays in the Church should Concern You

Ever since the unofficial leak of an addition of policy clarifications to Book One of the Handbook of Instructions to leaders of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has gone public there has been an outcry of condemnation against the Church.  To be fair, there has also been a significant amount of support on social media for the stance that the Church has taken.  Now, just in case you have been living under a rock during the past few days there were actually two policy clarifications.  The first clarification stated that gay members of the Church who are living together as married partners are in a state of apostasy and as such are candidates for Church discipline.  The statement does not say that they are to be excommunicated, though that is a possibility.  The second statement is the one that has probably caused the greatest amount of angst toward the Church.  This policy states that children living in gay households (households of same sex partners) are not to be blessed as children of record nor are they to be baptized at the age of eight but must wait until they are 18 (legal age of emancipation) and disavow same sex marriage.  Explanations for this policy have been given, which is not the focus of my comments here.  If you want to understand why then I invite you to research any of the Church-released news articles.

Comments on social media have been fast, furious, and numerous.  The comments have ranged from it's a cult anyway to disgraceful, hateful, and spiteful to how could a church that espouses love do such a thing to if you don't like their church don't be a Mormon to it's their church so they can make their own rules to if you disagree with it then you should find a church that teaches what you believe to three cheers for the Mormons for standing up for what they believe to finally, a church that follows the Bible.  There have been other comments that praise and condemn the Church, but you get the general idea of the range of comments here.

While I appreciate the kinder comments toward the end of the previous paragraph, there may be a few things lacking in those sentiments and most of them miss the mark.  It is not my objective here to persuade anyone to believe the way we as Latter-day Saints believe on the two issues that I have described above.  As I said, you can search those explanations out on your own.  But, there is so much wrong here that I am having a difficult time determining where to start.  Yeah, where to begin?

First, I guess, I would like to talk about the accusation that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints being a cult.  I suppose that if those who banter that term around understood the meaning of that word that they wouldn't mean it as the offensive term.  Likewise, if it wasn't for the fact that Mormons understand the intent of the insult and the slight offered by those who call the Church a cult, perhaps we wouldn't get upset by the use of that term.   A cult is "a small religious group that is not part of a larger and more accepted religion and that has beliefs regarded by many people as extreme or dangerous" (Merriam-Webster).  Using that definition, Christ's Church that he organized while in mortality could easily be called a cult.  It was a small religious group that was not part of a larger and more accepted religion and had beliefs regarded by many people as extreme.  I don't think it was regarded as dangerous (except to the adherents who were put to death) and I don't recall anybody referring to the LDS Church as dangerous (except for the martyrs of the Church).  And by the way, I'm not so sure that the Mormon Church meets the definition of small in the United States anymore since it is the third largest denomination in the country.

There now, I got that off my chest.

It seems that we live in an era of political correctness.  Indeed, there has been a fair amount of backlash against political correctness of late, but I fear that ship has already left the harbor and political correctness will be here to stay for a long time, perhaps forever.  But, I am wondering when political correctness is not necessarily correct.  Can something be politically incorrect and yet correct at the same time?  At the risk of sounding politically incorrect, if something has been black for eons, if we decided to call it white, will it magically become white?  Does gender reassignment change a person’s DNA?  If you refer to a cat long enough as being a dog, will it become a dog?  Is it possible that there are some things that won’t change no matter how hard one tries to change it?

It seems that there has been quite a bit of that lately.  For thousands of years and in virtually every culture in the world marriage has been defined as a union of a man and a woman.  Yet, it seems with the stroke of a pen we have changed that definition to include unions of a man to a man or a woman to a woman.  I suppose we’ve done that because we have come so far in our civilization and we are so much more enlightened than our ancestors were.  In some people’s rush to rewrite history it seems that a few things have been forgotten or purposefully left out.

I think that most people believe that Mahatma Gandhi was a fairly intelligent and wise man.  I think we could safely say that his wisdom was meant for the ages.  I recall years ago how he was venerated as all thoughtful, wise, caring, and knowing.  I’m sure that we’ve all heard about the seven deadly sins, but Gandhi had his own list of seven deadly sins.  As I reviewed them I am beginning to think that he was onto something and that we as a society are slipping into a deep chasm as we dismiss each of his listed deadly sins.

 Wealth without Work

Pleasure without Conscience

Science without Humanity

Religion without Sacrifice

Knowledge without Character

Commerce (Business) without Morality (Ethics)

Politics without Principle

             I am concerned that in these days we have taken upon ourselves to define God in our own image and not the other way around.  What I mean by that is that the notion of finding a church that fits your social agenda may not be in your best interests.  Last time I checked, God didn’t abdicate His position as “The Mighty God, the Everlasting Father” with the government upon His shoulder (Isaiah 9: 6).  Assuming that He is still “the same yesterday, and today, and forever” (Hebrews 13: 8), I’m thinking that the things that He identified as just plain wrong in the Bible are still wrong today.  Unfortunately, what I am seeing as people rush off to find a religion that fits their own lifestyle is that they are finding those teachers of religion that teach for doctrine the commandments of men (See Matt. 15: 9; Mark 7: 7; and Titus 1: 14).

            You know, there used to be a time in United States history that adultery was a felony.  Now in many states adultery is merely a petty misdemeanor if a crime at all.  Many people today engage in adultery without moral remorse at all.  A sin that was once considered second only to murder is now considered an indiscretion.  Has God rescinded the seventh commandment?  I don’t think so.  At least I have not seen any written evidence that He has rescinded it.  I’m pretty sure that it is still a grievous sin. 

            Therefore what, you may ask.  Why should the backlash against the LDS Church's stance on gays in the Church concern me? 

            I am reminded of Pastor Martin Niemöller who penned a little poem after being placed in a German concentration camp during World War II.  The poem comes as a result of his observations of the Nazis rounding up seemingly insignificant groups, beginning with incurable patients, then Jehovah’s Witnesses and eventually the Jews.

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

 I can’t help but wonder if those who are finding fault with the Church’s stance on gays in the Church, especially those who don’t believe the doctrine of the Church anyway, might have their own belief that they hold sacred.  And I wonder if their integrity would cause them to stand firm in the face of opposition.  I wonder if their honor would remain fixed in the face of changing social pressure. 

Then there is the issue of not allowing children of gay children living in those households to be baptized.  From the reaction of those outraged by this policy “change” you would think that it was an idea that was dreamed up in the executive washroom of the Republican National Committee.  (Again, it is not my intent to convince anybody that this was a good move.  The Church has published its rationale for this move and you can find it at http://www.mormonnewsroom.org/article/handbook-changes-same-sex-marriages-elder-christofferson?HP_FR_11-6-2015_dPAD_fCNWS_xLIDyL1-A_.  If you go to that website you will also be able to watch a short video news release by Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Church’s Quorum of the Twelve Apostles explaining the move.  By the way, I invite you to do a little homework and scope out Elder Christofferson’s personal background.)  To the contrary, this “change” is patterned after policies the Church has adopted for situations such as children of polygamous marriages.  This was not a decision made by one man, namely Thomas S. Monson, President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  This unanimous decision was made by 15 men who spent days in discussion after deep study and prayer.  This unanimous decision was made by 15 men who spend several months out of each year traveling the world talking to local Church leaders and ordinary members of the Church.  And then they talk.  And then they formulate a plan of action.  And then they take it to the Lord.  And they wait for confirmation.  And then they move forward.  If I had to guess I would suspect that this policy “change” was years in the making. 

A church that sends tens of thousands of young men and young women all over the world to proclaim the gospel and to bring converts into the Church does not sit around in their executive councils and ask what they can do to discourage people from joining the Church.  It does not fret so much about its growth that its leaders decide upon a plan to cull its membership down to a manageable size.  A church that proclaims to be the "stone cut out of the mountain" (Daniel 2: 45) doesn't say, "Oops! We're moving down the mountain a little fast and gathering too much momentum; it's time to stop this baby."  Church leaders don’t sit back and say to themselves, “Well, let’s see what we can do to shoot ourselves in the foot today.”  Rather, they sit back and ask what needs to be done to stay true to the faith.

But, isn’t this policy inconsistent with the Church’s own Article of Faith that states that we believe that we are punished for our own sins and not for Adam’s (note that it says Adam and not parents) transgressions?  Exactly.  Besides, I think that if you carefully study the scriptures that you will find that the consequences of parents’ sins frequently are visited upon their posterity.  That doesn’t mean that they are punished. 

I really don’t want to get into a discussion or debate about whether or not the Church’s position is right.  Borrowing from something that I’ve read a few times, I’m not blindly following.  I’m following because I see.

But for everybody else I would suggest that you be very careful about casting stones, especially if you live in a glass house and especially if you have a truth that you hold close as there will likely be a time in your life when political correctness will take a swipe at you.  Take a look around and see if there is anybody left to defend you.

I Like Words

Those who know me fairly well know that I like words.  I like to mess with them.  I especially like to take nouns and turn them into verbs and turn verbs into nouns.  I also enjoy conjugating them, which produces some rather interesting new words.  When doing so I try to follow established patterns.  Let me share the process with you.

Begin with the word sing.  In addition to the I sing, you sing, and he, she, or it sings pattern, there are the tenses that come into play.  Therefore, you have the words sing, sang, sung.  Please consider the possibilities for the word hang.  You end up with hing, hang, hung.  Now work backwards with me to I hing, you hing, and he, she or it hings.  It has to work.  Am I missing something here?

Or, take if you would the word sink.  Sink, sank, sunk.  All three are completely legitimate words and when you apply the logic of the progression of those words, you end up with think, thank (not to be confused with the word of the same spelling meaning an expression of appreciation), and thunk. 

Return with me now to the word sing. Today I had the opportunity to fling something away (no, not that).  We have the obvious, I fling, you fling, he, she, or it flings (we fling, you fling, they fling), but what happens when you put that word into a past tense.  The progression goes something like this: fling, flang, flung. 

As a person who had flung something I became a flunger after the fact, but while I was flinging it, I was a flinger (much like a singer).  That of course is in a past perfect tense, but had it been a simple past tense statement I would have been a flanger.  Keep in mind that a singer, once finished singing a song then becomes a sanger or a sunger (past perfect—as in, “he had been a sunger”).

Now, that which I flang or had flung, became flaneged or flunged.  It wasn’t flangt or flungt.  But the object itself should be defined as a flong.  Keep this rule in mind: Fling is to flong as sing is to song.  So, today as I did my morning walk I flang a flong.  Of course, at the time I was flinging a flong.  By the way, Susan walked with me today as she always does, but she seldom if ever flings flongs.  She just is not a flinger.  I don't think she was ever a flanger.  I once thank that she was, but she never has been a flunger.

One person who flings is a flinger, but two or more people are flingers.  And just as a flinger who had flung in the past is a flanger, multiple flingers who have flung in the past are flangers.  One must be careful here to distinguish between possessive and past perfect. A person can have flingers and flangers, but you always have flungered.  And, when asking person about flingering, or more aptly put, flangering in the past, you ask if that person flangered.  For example, “Was that you that flangered last night?” Of course, past perfect would be, “Have you flungered before?”

Now for some final thoughts as I bring this full circle.  Had I accidentally flung the fling onto a person when I flang it (to be clear, there was no recipient of the flang), then that person would have been the flungee.  Of course, at the time it happened that person would be the flingee, but since we are talking about an imperfect past that person was a flangee.

I hope this clears everything up.

9/11 Friday Friends

There is a special bond that develops among friends who have never met.  We are friends in a brotherhood.  Perhaps you could call it a fraternity.  We experience the same thrills and fears.  We feel the same highs from doing the exact same things.  We experience the same sadness over common losses.  Heroics are seldom recognized but occur multiple times on a daily basis. Some of those heroics are small acts of kindness or service while others are life threatening. At times the threats are more than just a threat.

I don't know. It either takes a special kind of stupid or a special kind of devotion to run into a life-threatening situation while others run out.  It's what you do when you swear an oath. 

The oath doesn't say anything about serve and protect.  The oath says enforce and defend.  The oath is all about enforcing the laws and defending the constitution against enemies foreign and domestic.  Yet the job is all about serving and protecting the public.  For each arrest that is made a victim somewhere is being served.  For each traffic citation issued, there is a reminder, whether learned or not, that we are a nation of laws and that most of us really do want to live in an orderly society.

I do not know the 60 NYPD and Port Authority of New York and New Jersey Police Department (PAPD) officers who lost their lives at the World Trade Center 14 years ago today.  I also do not know the other 71 police officers who have since died from injuries or exposure to toxic fumes and chemicals as a result of their rescue efforts at the World Trade Center.  And, I do not know the five federal law enforcement officers who died doing what they loved doing at the WTC.  I've never seen them, spoken to them, or emailed them.  But, I know them.  I know their hearts.  I know their dedication.  I know the fears that they faced and I know the satisfaction that they experienced at the end of a shift.  I know what they know, what they knew: what it's like to go home at the end of the day.  Unlike them, I do not know what it is like to know that you will not be going home at the end of your watch.

Oh, yes, I've run into a burning building looking for victims (who weren't there).  I've stared death in the face a time or two.  I've had good days and I’ve had bad days.  There were little acts of heroics that maybe resulted in a cut finger or a scraped knuckle.  More often than not the heroics consisted of changing out somebody’s flat tire or showing third graders what the inside of a police care looks like.  And yes, I've ruined a few people's days and a few of my uniforms.  But, at the end of the day I always went home.

Let me tell you just a couple of things about this fraternal order.  Just because you are a member you don't always give or get a "professional courtesy" when you are caught speeding or running a stop sign or red light.  However, as a police officer you can travel across this country and walk into any police station and sit down to a cup of coffee or bottle of soda and talk about common experiences for about as long as you want.  Officers from two different departments can work together on a common crime "in progress" and work together seamlessly even though they may have never seen each other before in their lives.  As a police officer in one jurisdiction you can call a police officer in another jurisdiction and request that something will be done and it will get done.  As a police officer you realize that your own badge is tarnished when some idiot cop on the other side of the country dishonored his or her badge.  As a police officer, your heart aches whenever another police officer somewhere, anywhere has died in the line of duty.  You see, we are friends.  We are family.  Whether the uniform is dark blue or light blue, brown, tan, gray, white, or green—active or retired, we've all run the scenario through our minds a thousand times.  And we never forget.

So here's to 136 friends that died either 14 years ago today or in the months and years since then from illnesses and injuries suffered on that day.  Here's to the mommies and daddies, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, chaplains, chiefs, commanders, supervisors, line officers, and my friends who ran into buildings while others ran out of those same buildings 14 years ago today.

And lest we forget, there were 343 firefighters and 8 paramedics who also perished on that day whose heroics are not to be diminished in any way, shape, or form in my tribute to my 136 friends.

The Constitutional and Moral Crisis of Same-sex Marriage

I have been greatly disturbed by the name-calling and finger-pointing that has taken place in recent days over the jailing of the Kentucky county clerk in a contempt citation for failing to issue marriage licenses to same sex couples desiring to be married.  Because she has stood her ground firm in her convictions she and others who stand with her have been labeled as bigots.  For the record, I’ve not been too pleased with many who side with her as their behavior is equally unbecoming.

(As a side note, I find it interesting how easy it is to shut down all reasonable and civil discourse by the introduction of name-calling.  It seems nowadays that the first person to sling out the word “bigot” or “racist” at another person is the winner.  It has a chilling effect and is poised simply at putting a person on the defensive and stirring deep personal integrity responses instead of stimulating thoughtful dialogue.)

I.    Issues of Faith

Those who point to Old Testament scriptures in their sanctimonious smugness as an argument against those who rely on the word of God as their confidence on their faith that gay marriage is contrary to the Lord’s will neither understand the context of the Old Testament nor hold to the truths of the New Testament. I speak directly to those who point to "The West Wing" dialogue recently showing up on Facebook and to various scriptures in Leviticus that condemn those who touch the skin of a pig and Old Testament prohibitions. Talk about cherry-picking!  I also speak to those who rely solely on the Old Testament as their justification to abhor same sex marriage!  Neither one of you (proponents/opponents) have a grasp of the scriptures. Shame on both of you for relying only on the Old Testament as your "authority".

It is clear from reading both the Old and New Testaments that marriage was intended by God to be between a man and a woman and that among other things they were commanded to bear children.  Re-interpretation and selective revision of ancient texts may convince a person otherwise.  That’s what happens when you rewrite scripture to fit your circumstances and to help you feel better about yourself.  This happens a lot these days and it applies to many topics.  People seem to forget that God is the One who sets the rules, not us.

The Old Testament, specifically the Law of Moses, was given as a "schoolmaster" to the children of Israel to prepare them for the coming of the Messiah.  It was given to them because they could not, or at least would not, obey a higher law which the Savior brought with Him in His mortal ministry. These strict commands were also given to them as a means of self-preservation. In some instances commandments were given as health codes and in other cases commandments were given to them as a means of identifying the covenant people.  They were recognized by the way they lived.

The Law of Moses was not done away with upon the advent of the Savior's mortal ministry. To the contrary, the Savior brought a more restrictive law. For example, under the Law of Moses it was forbidden to commit adultery. Under the Law of the Gospel of Jesus Christ a person was forbidden to even look upon a woman (or a man) with an adulterous heart.  To be perfectly clear, the Ten Commandments have not been rescinded neither have they gone through a name change. They are NOT the ten suggestions.

Those who would point only to the Old Testament and say that it was a harsh way to guide a people overlook the various commands in that Holy Writ to love one another.  The Christ of the New Testament did not give that as a new command during His earthly ministry, but He first gave it as the God of the Old Testament. To those who believe, it really is possible to "love thy neighbor" while abhorring the sin at the same time. That was the intent of the God of the Old Testament and it was the same intent of the God of the New Testament.

If you think it is impossible to hate the sin but love the sinner, then ask yourself this question, especially if you are a parent.  Have you ever loved your child in spite of the bad things, perhaps even the terrible things that he or she has done?

II. Constitutional Issues

Many who are cheering the incarceration of County Clerk Davis for refusal to issue marriage licenses to anybody, not just same sex couples, say that she was jailed for not doing her job.  Her backers say that she was jailed because of her deeply held Christian belief.  The issue is really quite moot.  The reality is that she was jailed because of her deeply held religious beliefs prevented her from doing what was never a part of her job when she initially took office and by what became the law of the land, not through the constitutionally provided way (i.e., a legislative action), but through five unelected people sitting on the nation’s highest court who are accountable to no one but themselves.  However, a much larger issue looms before the courts and it is one that Chief Justice John Roberts spelled out in his minority opinion.  Rather than reprint the full 29-page dissent, I am including his concluding remarks that now (and frankly at the time) seemed prophetic.  (I have placed some parts of Roberts’ dissent in italics and in bold typeface.)

JAMES OBERGEFELL, ET AL., PETITIONERS

v.

RICHARD HODGES, DIRECTOR, OHIO 

DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH, ET AL

“Federal courts are blunt instruments when it comes to creating rights.   They have constitutional power only to resolve concrete cases or controversies; they do not have the flexibility of legislatures to address concerns of parties not before  the  court  or  to anticipate  problems that may arise from the exercise of a new right.  Today’s decision, for example, creates serious questions about religious liberty.  Many good and decent people oppose same-sex marriage as a tenet of faith, and their freedom to exercise religion is—unlike the right imagined by the majority—actually spelled out in the Constitution.  Amdt. 1.

            “Respect for sincere religious conviction has led voters and legislators in every State that has adopted same-sex marriage democratically to include accommodations for religious practice.  The majority’s decision imposing same sex marriage cannot, of course, create any such accommodations.  The majority graciously suggests that religious believers may continue to “advocate” and “teach” their views of marriage.  Ante, at 27.   The First Amendment guarantees, however, the freedom to “exercise” religion.  Ominously, that is not a word the majority uses.

            “Hard questions arise when people of faith exercise religion in ways that may be seen to conflict with the new right to same-sex marriage—when, for example, a religious college provides married student housing only to opposite-sex married couples, or a religious adoption agency declines to place children with same-sex married couples.  Indeed, the Solicitor General candidly acknowledged that the tax exemptions of some religious institutions would be in question if they opposed same-sex marriage.  See Tr. of Oral Arg. on Question 1, at 36–38.  There is little doubt that these and similar questions will soon be before this Court. Unfortunately, people of faith can take no comfort in the treatment they receive from the majority today.

“Perhaps the most discouraging aspect of today’s decision is the extent to which the majority feels compelled to sully those on the other side of the debate.  The majority offers a cursory assurance that it does not intend to disparage people who, as a matter of conscience, cannot accept same sex marriage.  Ante,   at 19.    That disclaimer is hard to square with the very next sentence, in which the majority explains that “the necessary consequence” of laws codifying the traditional definition of marriage is to “demea[n] or stigmatiz[e]” same-sex couples.  Ante, at 19.  The majority reiterates such characterizations over and over.  By the majority’s account, Americans who did nothing more than follow the understanding of marriage that has existed for our entire  history—in  particular, the tens of millions of people who voted to reaffirm their States’ enduring definition of marriage—have acted to “lock . . . out,” disparage,” “disrespect  and  subordinate,”  and  inflict  “[d]ignitary wounds”  upon their gay and lesbian  neighbors.    Ante,  at 17, 19, 22, 25.  These apparent assaults on the character of fair minded people will have an effect, in society and in court.  See post, at 6–7 (ALITO, J., dissenting).  Moreover, they are entirely gratuitous.  It is one thing for the majority to conclude that the Constitution protects a right to same-sex marriage; it is something else to portray everyone who does not share the majority’s “better informed understanding” as bigoted.  Ante, at 19.

            “In the face of all this, a much different view of the Court’s role impossible.  That view is more modest and restrained.  It is more skeptical that the legal abilities of judges also reflect insight into moral and philosophical issues.  It is more sensitive to the fact that judges are unelected and unaccountable, and that the legitimacy of their power depends on confining it to the exercise of legal judgment.  It is more attuned to the lessons of history, and what it has meant for the country and Court when Justices have exceeded their proper bounds.  And it is less pretentious than to suppose that while people around the world have viewed an  institution in a particular way for thousands of years, the present generation and the present Court are the ones chosen to burst the bonds of that history and tradition.

*    *    *

“If you are among the many Americans—of whatever sexual orientation—who favor expanding same-sex marriage, by all means celebrate today’s decision. Celebrate the achievement of a desired goal.   Celebrate the opportunity for a new expression of commitment to a partner.  Celebrate the availability of new benefits.  But do not celebrate the Constitution.  It had nothing to do with it.

“I respectfully dissent. “

ROBERTS, C. J., dissenting

            I don’t think anybody wanted to see a constitutional showdown, but we now have one.

II.       Concluding Comments

One should not think that because Kim Davis has been released from jail that this matter has been resolved.  It will climb and claw its way up to the Supreme Court again, whether through Mrs. Davis or through some other person or official.  I note that there are judges across the country who have already committed to not solemnizing same-sex marriages.

I do not know why some people struggle with same-sex attraction.  While as a matter of personal faith (if you want to call it religious conscience, that’s fine) I believe it is wrong to discriminate against those with same-sex partners in areas of housing, employment, tax status, and so forth.  I feel a great sense of empathy for those who experience same-gender attraction who love and make deep personal commitments to their partners.  To be perfectly clear, I have a number of friends who are in relationships with same-sex partners and I value them, respect them, and honor them and their friendship as much as I do the relationship I have with my heterosexual friends.  I am pretty sure that they understand my position and have been nothing but gracious and respectful of me and my beliefs.

I recently posted a proclamation published by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on Facebook entitled The Family: A Proclamation to the World.  It was first published on September 23, 1995.  I wish to quote parts of that proclamation in concluding my comments here.

The Family

A Proclamation to the World

The First Presidency and Council of the Twelve Apostles of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

We, the First Presidency and the Council of the Twelve Apostles of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, solemnly proclaim that marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of God and that the family is central to the Creator’s plan for the eternal destiny of His children.

All human beings—male and female—are created in the image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and destiny. Gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose.

***

The first commandment that God gave to Adam and Eve pertained to their potential for parenthood as husband and wife. We declare that God’s commandment for His children to multiply and replenish the earth remains in force. We further declare that God has commanded that the sacred powers of procreation are to be employed only between man and woman, lawfully wedded as husband and wife.

***

We declare the means by which mortal life is created to be divinely appointed. We affirm the sanctity of life and of its importance in God’s eternal plan.

Husband and wife have a solemn responsibility to love and care for each other and for their children. “Children are an heritage of the Lord” (Psalm 127:3). …

The family is ordained of God. Marriage between man and woman is essential to His eternal plan.