When Icons Fall

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by: Johnny Golden

08/08/2020

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All across the American landscape changes are afoot. Some welcomed. Some not so. But clearly, they are demanding to be Seen-Heard-Engaged. Many of the constructs of our lives are being upended. Long-held norms are now more likely to be tagged, labeled, discarded as dinosaurs - useless and unwanted relics of a distant bygone era.

Almost daily we witness statues and tributes being torn down. The unmooring of our center unnervingly shifting with each new transition.

If  notables such as Washington, Jefferson, Dolly Madison, Betsy Ross, Hamilton, and others are unable to escape this new day of iconoclasm how, then, can we lessers escape so great a salvation and be rescued from the unforgiving ash heap of modernity?

How shall we form this more perfect union if disunity and disruption is being ceded from sea to tempestuous sea? Or maybe, just maybe, is it possible that in this moral conflagration that better health, resurrection, and new life can be found?

An opportunity for all to breathe, and to form not only a more perfect union but a union which is perfected more by a common goal to see the goodness and god-ness in all of Heaven’s creation?

Can Lincoln’s  “better angels” be summoned before internecine destruction desperately describes and defines our descent? 

But must we squander, flounder and "wonder as we wander" til we have all perished - become little more than that from which we arose or can we here and now be transformed into the image of God – the Imago Dei – a nephesh of new life, animated and imbued with the ruah of peace, love, and soul? Is there no pneuma, no locomotive, no effusive, vivifying Don Cornelius-like conductor to help us get aboard this train? 

Perhaps if each of us searches within ourselves we can rid ourselves of the damnable images and machinations of lesser and betters; superior and inferior; nativist and outsiders; us and them; you-people and undesirables. Can  we  tear down the statues of pride and prejudice so fastidiously and foolishly crafted and erected within ourselves?

These icons, too, must fall.

All across the American landscape changes are afoot. Some welcomed. Some not so. But clearly, they are demanding to be Seen-Heard-Engaged. Many of the constructs of our lives are being upended. Long-held norms are now more likely to be tagged, labeled, discarded as dinosaurs - useless and unwanted relics of a distant bygone era.

Almost daily we witness statues and tributes being torn down. The unmooring of our center unnervingly shifting with each new transition.

If  notables such as Washington, Jefferson, Dolly Madison, Betsy Ross, Hamilton, and others are unable to escape this new day of iconoclasm how, then, can we lessers escape so great a salvation and be rescued from the unforgiving ash heap of modernity?

How shall we form this more perfect union if disunity and disruption is being ceded from sea to tempestuous sea? Or maybe, just maybe, is it possible that in this moral conflagration that better health, resurrection, and new life can be found?

An opportunity for all to breathe, and to form not only a more perfect union but a union which is perfected more by a common goal to see the goodness and god-ness in all of Heaven’s creation?

Can Lincoln’s  “better angels” be summoned before internecine destruction desperately describes and defines our descent? 

But must we squander, flounder and "wonder as we wander" til we have all perished - become little more than that from which we arose or can we here and now be transformed into the image of God – the Imago Dei – a nephesh of new life, animated and imbued with the ruah of peace, love, and soul? Is there no pneuma, no locomotive, no effusive, vivifying Don Cornelius-like conductor to help us get aboard this train? 

Perhaps if each of us searches within ourselves we can rid ourselves of the damnable images and machinations of lesser and betters; superior and inferior; nativist and outsiders; us and them; you-people and undesirables. Can  we  tear down the statues of pride and prejudice so fastidiously and foolishly crafted and erected within ourselves?

These icons, too, must fall.

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