The Offense Of Naught

Culture is so powerful, in filtering what we eat;
It sets the fence that keeps stuff out, protects what we find sweet;
It demarcates the line between what's good, and right, and pure --
And all the rest – we will not taste for fear it is manure.

It matters not if food, or some nutrition for the mind;
It senses flags and borderlands of watermelon's rind –
“Why, this is food! and that is not – just good to feed the hogs!
I see you are not one of us, this my awareness jogs.”

And so the best we have to share's un-tasted ’cross the line;
Their culture cuts like border-swath twixt cultured folks and swine;
“A keeper of this sty ” is what my name once meant of old,
And maybe that's a role for me, live out what I've been told.

For on the outside of the line is where I've spent my days;
Out here I've felt the love of God, and learned to sing His praise;
One cannot say, “Let's clean this up”, if you're not of the pack,
So might as well ignore them, be content with “this and that”.

God sends to me the folks who need a journey off a cliff,
To bring to their awareness that there's something they have missed;
I've seen it one-on-one, of course, but this is stranger still,
For it applies to cultures, groups, and nations, if you will.

Now that brings wonder to my mind – are we that foolish still,
That we will not take nourishment preferring taste of swill?
 Am I, in fact, that kind of guy, quite dense beyond belief,
My cultured ways of one (or two) held close so I can keep?

I find it hard to cross that line and enter others’ worlds;
“Last of Mohicans” resonates with me in cultures’ swill;
A TCK who's got a home to which folks can't relate –
“Outsider” is the label they apply – don't hesitate.

So maybe just contented be to live in Echo-land;
Get on with life, do this and that, whatever else I can;
Not very good at telling folks, “A problem’s what I see”;
Much better when they've landed hard -- they're open more to me.

                             *****

Ukrainians have Easter eggs of intricate design,
Israelis have of faith that's deep, refreshing all mankind;
The Scots have intellect to burn, and giver-finance ways;
You think this mix of humankind would see some better days.

But no, they cancel each one out, though celebrate their dance;
Reject the insights from their God, but gives their group a chance;
Take up the worst of money's ways, throw out their noble thought;
Think ear's and eye, and mouth's a foot, so nothing else is sought.

What of our home, what does it say of culture which is here?
It speaks of one which we both shared, and one that's coming clear;
Two cultures live here side by side – one Echo-land, one Scot;
Five years ago it first came clear, and base of life it rocked.

But now it settles down for me, and slowly clarifies;
It helped to face both death and life – it focused up my eyes;
Just what's important in my life? asked what my culture brings
Up to the table of mankind – what food to potluck brings?

It brings some apple candy pie (called Apple Crumb by dad);
It brings some beef and chicken breast, and veggies like we had;
Much other food, from nations drawn; New England's finest dish;
Along with food from camping days, like pan-fried, fresh-caught fish.

But most it brings a blend of faith, ethereal but true;
A quality of life expressed as I give life to you;
It speaks of cultures quite distinct long-parted by the sea,
But tapping into best of life and blending both in me.

A Spirit deep is found in both, and broken bread with wine –
“No interest here in being last surviving of mankind; ”
“If I can help you do your life, get over yonder wall,
I'll hold the enemy at bay, so you can live for all”.

Resources have I few, and scorn their central place in life;
I do not like how poverty creates a world of strife;
I view resource as tools to bring encouragement to you;
If you then live with victory, I feel I am no fool.

To me to educate oneself is how I say ‘I love’;
I have no use for doing life as best at push and shove;
I'm not the brightest of the lights out on this prairie land;
But I get on with what I have, and try to under-stand.

There's so much more I do not know and lots I'll never know;
I long to share the bit I have and skills to others show;
I sense transition going on, as younger folks take up
The challenges of life round here, and strive for winner's cup.

                               *****

I'm not quite out to pasture, nor have I attained that stage,
Where wisdom's venerated in a few then seen as sage;
A lot of us don't get there as our minds just wander off,
And we're regarded as a drag, and of our likes they scoff.

But what the heck, 'twas always thus because of cultures walls;
What difference now to be outside, or in some senior's halls?
Old Jacques would say, “Scope shifts through life, brings distance twixt our friends”;
A wonder anyone relates to message other sends.

So maybe culture's great divides prepare us for the end –
As we grow old and young folks look on us and condescend
To fence us off from active life; to relegate to past,
Providing only anecdotes to comment on and laugh.

And maybe this transitioned time that's crashing down on me,
Is people's way of shifting us aside so they can be
The people God designed into their style and DNA
Perhaps they feel to get ahead this is the only way.

Perhaps, but I don't like that view, not now, not in the past;
Destroying others is no way to make a life that lasts;
To win is fun, I will admit but not if it destroys
The lives of all those younger folks while they are just girls and boys.

The games that culture plays reflect the values which it holds;
When we cross lines and play with them were asked if we are bold
Enough to hold our values high, and still play by their rules –
Like life itself – put others first, don't be afraid to lose.

For we have plenty in our lives, we do not have to crush
The life from others to get on, or be in such a rush
That we can't savour life around, give other folks a chance
To have their moment in the sun, feel joy, and join the dance.

For me, my life's been lived out here at cultures boundary lines;
For others they've enjoyed the peace of cultures big and fine;
But now our world's turned upside down, as people travel round,
God's sent ahead some leadership, that other paths be found.

The church, for one – Apostle-types for nigh two thousand years,
They jumped the walls between the groups, endured great strife and tears;
And now they are quite expert at the boundary-crossing game,
And records of their learnings are a guide to do the same.

Not silliness, mistakes, and goofs, but when they got it right;
Magnificent the lives of some who traveled out of sight
Of those from home, left far behind when sixty miles was a vast,
And mono-cultures were the norm, as in not-distant past.

But here we are, all jumbled up with cultures on our street
From every corner of the Earth – amazing mix we meet;
The distance gone, but culture's walls as firm and just as stout –
The challenge in the world today – what church is all about.

I can't say I am adept at this – it's not my role in life;
I've spent some time in missions-work and felt its awkward strife;
My missions-task quite different is, right here in Giver-land;
But culture's walls are part of it, and aspect I can't stand.

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