Puzzlement is a good thing. It brings us up short, and forces reflection.

The Giants had the ball, close to the goal line, 2 points down, 56 seconds left on the clock. The fullback gets the ball, charges toward the end zone: Then things get kind of weird. The Patriots separate, like the Red Sea. Then the fullback stops short of the end zone, and seems to wait to be tackled, only to fall into the end zone accidentally. What was that all about?

Strategy, of course. If the Giants had stopped short of the goal and taken a fair share of downs prior to scoring either a touchdown or a field goal, they would have taken the lead with little time on the clock left for Tom Brady to lead the Patriots to a score. The Patriots felt their best option would be to let the Giants score quickly, then seize the maximum number of remaining seconds to give the Patriots the best scoring opportunity possible: and the win.

It was a strange moment, when strength became weakness, and weakness became strength. The Giants' fullback powerfully charged the end zone and scored, but only accidentally, falling into like a playful child. The Patriots played defense, and then collapsed in a final bid to win, looking more like a middle-school team then consummate professionals. Both teams tried to be as weak as possible, and to make their weakness their strength.

Have we ever considered that our strengths might be our weaknesses, and our weaknesses strengths? The Sufi mystics' Enneagram is built on this premise. Each one of us has a major strength, and the Enneagram helps us identify it. Yet then the Enneagram warns us that this very strength, when we overplay or have too much confidence in it, becomes our fatal weakness. We overplay our strength because we are mistakenly hiding something else, something deeper that might also serve us well. To give you an example, I enjoy a good laugh, and can see the humor in situations. Yet this trait can hide a fear of pain. If I can access the pain, transcend the fear and truly feel the hurt, the pain too can be a source of wisdom for me. It can teach me compassion, for example. This is what the Enneagram teaches: to not only rely on our strengths, but to find a good in the weaknesses that we hide, even from ourselves.

What are your strengths? And what good are you denying that your strengths are hiding? God can use a Sufi tool to help you know the truth.

Twice I have heard this Republican candidate describe the United States as "the hope of the earth." Typically, this language accompanies his contention that the United States military is weak and growing weaker. I am either going to blog my objection or scream and jump out of a window . . . or both.

Now I could begin with the obvious statistical evidence. The current military budget represents about 20% of the federal budget, and has increased, on average, 9% per year over the past 10 years or so. Some might argue we need more spent, some may argue less, but I can say with confidence that I could have used a 9% increase in my salary over the past 10 years - and I would have felt good about it. Indeed, I am fortunate to be serving a congregation that feels a moral obligation to pay me an annual cost of living raise: Not all have been so generous (or even had a conscience).  

Yet where I want to nitpick is with this "hope of the earth" business. True, I understand some things about the Mormon faith that may cause our candidate to lean toward such laudatory language: As excommunicated Latter Day Saint historian Fawn Brodie framed it, the Mormon faith is the first truly original American religion. Because its messianism is less sharply bound than that of Christian faith - the Jesus event is not altogether unique in Mormon faith - there is room for a view of the United States as the western parallel to Israel: That is, as another cradle of divine revelation. It can be anticipated that an American, pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps into-wealth-and-heaven ethos will be embodied by a Mormon president. But this is not so different than other American candidates, in my opinion. If you can't say that your country is the greatest on the earth, you shouldn't be president of the United States . . . or of Albania, for that matter.  

But I thought Jesus Christ, Lord and Savior, was the hope of the earth. Remember that old hymn?

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus Christ, my righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus' name.

On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand,
All other ground is sinking sand.

    I have been trying to come up with a title for this blog. Massey's Modest Musings? The latest offering, Meanderings? I thought even of Skubala, from the New Testament Greek, and not a very delicate term at all. I hope that I am offering more than waste material here, but only the reader can judge. If you have a name to offer for this blog, let me have it. If you have any suggestions for topics to be taken up, let me have it. If you have a distaste for me and what I write, let somebody else have it. 

    I have been thinking about Gabrielle Giffords today, the young Democratic congress woman from Arizona shot in the head by a rogue gunman. Today marks a sad anniversary: This all happened exactly one year ago. 

    Violence can appear so random. One minute a person is safe in a gathering with friends, or walking down a street. The next minute someone's blood is shed and a victim is created. Beloved friends of mine continue to relive the violence that marked their families so long ago, and I cannot imagine the hell they are still experiencing. 

    The good news, we are told, is that the level of violent crime in this country has dropped over the last two decades. We may not perceive that being the case in light of our 24 hour news cycle, yet that is what the statistics tell us. And that sounds good, unless it is you or your loved one who is killed or wounded. For you, the statistic is different: You are 100%  suffering.  

    Who is responsible? The criminal committing violence certainly bears a huge portion of the blame. Yet questions cry out for answers: If hand guns are so readily available in our country, and gun violence is far more likely in this country than in others where hand guns are banned, should lax gun laws be blamed? Or is it better that we go the route of Iowa and arrange for a maximum number of persons to carry hand guns so we can all protect ourselves? 

    Can we blame the courts, who do not allow religions of peace to be taught in public schools? Or which stand in the way of cruel and unusal punishment? Or can we fault the prevalence of violence on television or in video-games? Maybe it is poor parenting to blame? Or the rich being too rich and the poor too poor, and in such a case violence becomes a form of power equalization? Or perhaps to be human is to be violent, as we see in Cain's murder of Able? 

So who do we blame? And how do we respond to violence? Shall we take the guns out of homes and turn off the TV's and videogames?  Is there an appropriate response, such as arming our church officers so that they can serve neighborhoods as Vigilantes for Jesus? Where does hope lie, and faithful action begin?

No, and I don't mean caucuses in Iowa. I mean the family gatherings in South Carolina to see my mother. Whew! The weather was pleasantly warm, but twice my siblings and I tossed around our national political situation and this really got us all heated up. I confess that I started: "What do you think of the stable of Republican candidates, eh?" One sister came out for Bachmann, another sister for anyone but Obama, and a brother-in-law kept his counsel: I suspect he likes Gingrich or Ron Paul pretty well. I confined my role to asking probing questions, and assuring my siblings that I was not asking these questions in order to wreak family havoc. My wife said nothing, although she has little fondness for Bachmann. My older son kept making noises expressing unspeakable pain, and the young guy practiced inscrutability. Smart fellows! As time passed, and the context felt safe, various family members took the opportunity to speak their minds.

While we backed different candidates, we discovered that we had similar concerns: the economy, healthcare, international peace, and the education of our children to name a few points of common angst.

So we are all family here, right? And this is a safe place? Let me throw out the question that I asked, and this time apply it to all of the candidates, Republican or Democrat: What do you think of these candidates? Especially from your faith perspective? What are the issues on which we as Christians should focus? What are Christian values?

Hi, Daddy. Time to make our march again, from Christmas to Good Friday, from our last festival to your death. Wow, has it been 21 years? For a fellow who didn't care much for Catholics you sure fleshed out a liturgical year. I recalled today how we always celebrated Christmas just after Christmas, Epiphany really, because of the sales on all Christmas items. It made sense to get our tree on Christmas Eve; so many were given away by then. Of course, I remembered today the one Christmas Eve you brought home the free tree that every dog in Tolono, IL had peed on. Mom hated it, but our dog then. . . her best Christmas ever.

Not sure what to report, Poppy. You should catch sight of the Republican candidates for president. I remember how much you were a diehard Rockefeller supporter. Nobody should run for president unless he is filthy rich and can't be bought, you said. We suspect wealth now: So I guess we make sure that everbody can be bought and sold. But if you are surprised by the Republicans you should get a load of who we have for president . . . I know you were raised in Prince Edward County, VA, once labeled the most racist in America. I heard my siblings' story about you in your younger days; you came a long way. But I bet you still wouldn't vote for a woman or a person of color . . .

I still love and study the Scriptures, but my take on them is different from yours. I have been studying science, but my understanding is different from yours. I became a pastor, like your father and mom's father, but I think I walk in the way differently than they did . . . do you know all this? You gave so much to give us a better life, and we tried to give the same to our children, but some days I think we are slipping backwards, and I don't know if my children will have a life better than mine; or if they should, if it means the continued destruction of the planet. 

Somehow, daddy, we always started from different places and yet ended in the same one. Perhaps, at Christmas, we still are . . .

And ye beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow
Look now! for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing
O rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.

For lo! the days are hastening on,
By prophet bards foretold,
When, with the ever-circling years,
Shall come the Age of Gold;
When peace shall over all the earth,
Its ancient splendors fling,
And all the world give back the song,
Which now the angels sing.

Bye, Pop; be back on Good Friday.