TALES OF THE OLD WEST (Not really:O))

The early years of my youth were dominated by cowboy movies, including Gene Autry, Dale Evans, Roy Rogers, et al. The first movie I can remember seeing was “The Oxbow Incident” around 1938, when I was about 5 years old. I do not remember much about the film, but I remember trying to shoot the “bad guys” with my pretend pistol. We had five movie theaters in our town, and I lived in hotels right near the town’s City Center. I am confident I averaged two movies per week throughout my pre-teen years. Almost all of the films I saw were cowboy flicks. In addition to those mentioned above, I was especially fond of the Lone Ranger and The Cisco Kid. Later, during World War Two, most movies were war movies, and I continued my addiction to the silver screen right on through junior high and high school. But it was cowboy flicks that dominated my entertainment world.

Indeed, when I was about 12, and my uncle Dale was 14, we bought an old workhorse, which we named “Midnight,” and stabled him at a local stable on the edge of town so we could ride him whenever we chose. Dale and I took turns feeding and grooming Midnight for a whole summer. Midnight was very mild, perhaps old, so he was easy to work with. Both Dale and I enjoyed riding Midnight around the corral almost every day. One day, however, after I had saddled him, he walked straight over to the barn wall, aimed his head at it, and proceeded to buck until he had bucked me over his head, off the barn wall, and to the ground. Only my pride was really hurt, and although I still have no idea what was bothering him, I gave up riding Midnight.            

Many years later, while in college, I finally understood what it was. My roommate and I went to a ranch near where we were living and working, in the hills above Santa Barbara, and rented a couple of horses to ride for the day. It had been a long time since I had been on a horse, and I forgot how important it is to make sure the horse has not bloated its belly with air before cinching the saddle down tight. Evidently, my horse sensed that I was clearly a “greenhorn” at this riding business and planned to teach me a lesson. Once we got underway, my horse ran under the lowest-hanging branch he could find, clearly trying to knock me out of the saddle. My saddle slid off to the side, and I was dumped firmly on the ground. Luckily, I was not hurt, and we quickly returned to the ranch. Before long, the lesson given to me by Midnight came to mind. Horses know when they are dealing with someone who does not know what they are doing, and they take appropriate measures to deal with them. 

Clearly, all my years of watching cowboy movies had not stood me in good stead. However, when I was about 14, my granddad took Dale and me fishing up the Caribou Trail in Canada, and we stayed at a ranch that rented us horses to ride all over the countryside all day. We had absolutely no difficulty. Unfortunately, my knowledge of horses was an on-again, off-again sort of thing. In any case, I have always cherished my minimal experience as a “cowboy” and my mixed memories of being at “Home, Home on the range.”

 Is Donald Trump a Christian?

It is, to be sure, ludicrous and even irreverent for one human being to judge another on such a question. At the same time, however, we all must make similar decisions, from marriage choices to church membership to funeral services. More than that, we cannot help deciding such questions, even if only in the privacy of our own hearts. So I’ll go ahead and reveal what I think on this matter. 

There are, to be sure, various criteria by which one can answer this question in relation to another’s Christian faith. First, does he claim to be a Christian? I have not seen or heard anything about Trump’s behavior or statements that would indicate that he thinks of himself as a Christian. He does occasionally speak about “hoping to go to Heaven,” but never gives any reason for this hope, certainly none of the standard formulas for being a Christian believer. Indeed, there is no indication that Trump has ever joined a Christian Church anywhere.

Another criterion often offered for defining a Christian is whether or not he believes in the Bible. Here again, we have no reason to believe that Trump even has a Bible, let alone that he believes it is a, or the, source of truth regarding religious matters. In fact, a few years back, we all saw him holding a Bible in front of himself, upside down and backwards. In some ways, this might seem to be an absolute criterion for being a non-believer. He has never provided a shred of evidence that he believes the Bible has any kind of authority except as a prop with which to pretend to be a believer while standing in front of a church. 

Next, one might ask whether he “loves his neighbor as himself.” From the way he speaks about anyone who disagrees with him, especially women and people of color, simply for being who they are, it should be clear that he only “loves” those who agree with him. Everyone else is a “loser” or a “dumbbell.” Those who praise him are supposed to be “winners,” especially very beautiful white women. It should be clear that Trump only “loves” those who say they love him.

Finally, does he speak of people and issues with a heart of love? The answer is very clear. He speaks kindly only to and about people who praise and follow him. Almost invariably, Trump degrades and offends nearly everyone around him who is not paying him homage. Indeed, it is almost impossible to imagine him speaking of others, except for foreign dignitaries, in any terms other than those that demean and degrade. In my mind, there is almost no one who shows less respect for others and as much self-conceit as Donald Trump. He has absolutely no understanding of the love and grace exhibited in the person and teachings of Jesus Christ.

Such, in my view, is our so-called “President”: a fake, a sham, and a bloody shame!