Your Independent Journal from the Heartland
Poor Mr. Hegseth. Burdened with trying to make sense of a leader who is (a) inarticulate and (b) has no plan. We can imagine the call that arrived in Pete’s office in late September: “Bring 800 top military brass together at Quantico and alert them to what’s up.”
Pete’s response might have been: “More details, please.”
The return e-mail, perhaps: “Haircuts, no beards. Work-outs. WASSUP?!”
And Pete, accustomed to following orders when he doesn’t know what the orders are, did his best. And, suddenly, he was in front of a room full of brass-bedecked suits and bald heads, hungry for a message. Only days before, they had been alerted that they work for “War” rather than “Defense.” No longer DOD, now DOW. Perhaps more appropriate, given former General Dwight Eisenhower’s 1961 warning about the military-industrial complex as he was leaving the White House.
But these are confusing times and Americans are accustomed to moving from reality to fantasy and back again. Our kids were raised on Harry Potter books, Star Wars movies and pseudo-documentaries like “Mermaids: The Body Found” aired on the generally-accurate Animal Planet TV channel and “Ancient Aliens” on the History Channel. We are being asked to make sense of artificial intelligence, crypto, and the end of imports from China (where we used to get all our stuff). And then there’s social media. Good luck with figuring out Mariachi POTUS and the rant calling Democrats the party of “hate, evil and Satan.”
Focus is missing in this direction-less time but rather than try to make sense out of Washington, D.C., we should be thinking about our own communities and how to make sense of our neighbors.
In my case, that means making sense of the Evangelistic Christians that live around here. Old-time religion has disappeared along with the simple signs declaring “Jesus Saves.” Now their signs say “He is coming” or “He is here.” Or they issue orders: “If life knocks you to your knees, stay there” or “Wash Your Hands and Say Your Prayers Because Jesus and Germs are Everywhere.”
As I’ve said in this column before, rural America loves churches because churches have stuck around for folks. While every small town once had a general store, a school and a church, today the church may be all that’s left. It’s not unusual to see an isolated church and cemetery where old-timers remember there once was a small town. Tiny congregations might be served by pastors on a traveling schedule, preaching at two or three places on a Sunday and aided with outreach by volunteer parishioners. Besides the entertainment of a regular Sunday service, the church hosts life passage ceremonies like baptisms, weddings and funerals. Occasionally there are survivals of festive community festivals like church socials, Christmas bazaars, homecomings.
Churches impart messages and since politics has crept into the pulpit, it shouldn’t be surprising that church members vote the way their leadership tells them, especially if leadership can find proof in the Bible for their orders. Abortion? An affront against the sanctity of life says some verse. Israel? A fulfillment of prophecy says another passage. Climate change? Jesus is coming.
In reality, a church often provides a solution to neighborhood problems, especially the inconveniently life-changing ones. School closings? Churches provide space for home-school groups. Food shortages? Churches provide meals, especially for kids who stay for Bible study.
So, besides providing affirmation for political opinions, churches provide answers. But are these answers really solutions? It can be argued, for example, that a good solution to community hunger would be to encourage gardens. We might envision Sunday School meetings that tend rows of vegetables. Small orchards could enhance a church space and offer fruit for the community. Elders could teach food preservation methods for winter scarcity.
Such efforts would encourage church members to plant their own orchards or gardens. And, speaking of education and solution-building, rural churches could add energy to their missions by creating, yes, energy! The Inflation Reduction Act encouraged a few urban churches to add solar panels to their roofs, creating electricity all week long and sending it to the grid or banking it for Sundays and even community black-outs. Rural churches could learn from those folks on how to manage solar for the future. But that would take reasoning and, after all, He is Coming. Or, maybe, here.
After Pete Hegseth’s presentation, described as similar to a Ted Talk, though Ted presenters usually know what they’re talking about, there was a ramble from the commander-in-chief. The entire meeting came off more like a display of ego than a necessary military exercise. “Insulting” was the most commonly-used adjective. Nonetheless, a few hours later came a memo including “Grooming Standards: All service members, barring some exceptions, will need to be clean-shaven. This means sideburns above the ear opening and no beards, goatees or other facial hair. Mustaches are allowed as long as they are neatly trimmed and do not extend past the corners of the mouth.”
Pretty darn specific for an unfocused time.
Margot Ford McMillen farms near Fulton, Mo., and co-hosts “Farm and Fiddle” on sustainable ag issues on KOPN 89.5 FM in Columbia, Mo. Her latest book is “The Golden Lane: How Missouri Women Gained the Vote and Changed History.”
Email: margotmcmillen@gmail.com.
