Oh no!!! Another Woe!

"But woe to you who are rich..." (Luke 6:24a).

If you are like me you read that and think, "Well, that's certainly not talking about me! I'm not rich." And we translate it to "Woe to Bill Gates...!"

Steve Corbett says that if you make minimum wage in the US, you are among the richest 5% in the world. And if you make $28,000 you are in the top 2% of the richest people in the world.

So, unless you make way less than minimum wage, when Jesus says "Woe to the rich..." He is talking to YOU!

"...for you are receiving your comfort in full." Um...yeah, that's probably most of us...we live pretty comfortable lives. (Especially when you consider the rest of the world.)

"Woe to you who are well-fed now, for you shall be hungry." I'm sorry, but there is no doubt whatsover that this applies to us. When we go back to the states we are struck by the enormous number of um... well-fed people.

Jesus started this discourse with "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. 21 "Blessed are you who hunger now, for you shall be satisfied" (Luke 6:20-21a). Let's not be too hasty in saying "Oh, he's talking about the spiritually poor. The rest of the discourse seems to be pretty literal.

Next time you read about issues regarding the rich...don't read yourself out of the Bible!

To a Louse

The is one of my Dad's favorite poems. I've heard him quote it for as long as I can remember...mostly the last stanza. Please, take the time to read and reflect on the situation. It's 200 year old Scottish English, but I think you will get the point.

To A Louse
Poem lyrics of To A Louse by Robert Burns.

On Seeing One on a Lady's Bonnet at Church


Ha! whare ye gaun' ye crowlin ferlie?
Your impudence protects you sairly;
I canna say but ye strunt rarely
Owre gauze and lace,
Tho faith! I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,
Detested, shunn'd by saunt an sinner,
How daur ye set your fit upon her--
Sae fine a lady!
Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner
On some poor body.

Swith! in some beggar's hauffet squattle;
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle;
Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle;
In shoals and nations;
Whare horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle
Your thick plantations.

Now haud you there! ye're out o' sight,
Below the fatt'rils, snug an tight,
Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right,
Till ye've got on it--
The vera tapmost, tow'rin height
O' Miss's bonnet.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,
As plump an grey as onie grozet:
O for some rank, mercurial rozet,
Or fell, red smeddum,
I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't,
Wad dress your droddum!

I wad na been surpris'd to spy
You on an auld wife's flainen toy
Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,
On's wyliecoat;
But Miss's fine Lunardi! fye!
How daur ye do't?

O Jeany, dinna toss your head,
An set your beauties a' abread!
Ye little ken what cursed speed
The blastie's makin!
Thae winks an finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice takin!

O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us
An foolish notion:
What airs in dress an gait wad lea'es us,
An ev'n devotion!

Silly poem, exhortation to personal transparency, or...political commentary?