We Ask This In Jesus' Name

The Righteous Shall Live by Faith (Galatians 3:10-14)

¹⁰ For all who rely on works of the law are under a curse; for it is written, “Cursed be everyone who does not abide by all things written in the Book of the Law, and do them.” ¹¹ Now it is evident that no one is justified before God by the law, for “The righteous shall live by faith.”^[a] 12 But the law is not of faith, rather “The one who does them shall live by them.” ¹³ Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us—for it is written, “Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree”— ¹⁴ so that in Christ Jesus the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles, so that we might receive the promised Spirit^[b] through faith.

Must be that "hanged on a tree" thing.

Lizard

Donald Fricking Rumsfeld once again sticks his head up from under his rock, risking exposure to the sun long enough to refer to our president as the "so-called commander in chief." The man has no shame, and certainly no sense of irony. Had his boss not ceded the role of commander in chief to Dick Cheney, he, Rumsfeld, might not be sounding so obscene.

On the other hand, I'll give Rumsfeld his "so-called" in this sense: had President Obama done what other commanders in chief might have done, certainly ought to have done, and prosecuted the whole lot of his predecessors for the war crimes they committed, he'd be speaking from prison. On a monitored phone. Calling collect. With a five minute time limit.

What a disgusting man, among so many just like him. Why is he considered worth listening to, by anyone?

[I wrote this a couple of days ago, when I read of his comments. Yesterday, I saw this, on the same topic, but said much better:]

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Hats, Not So White

Following up on this post, remarking on foreign policy expert, never-wrong John McCain's certainty in the moderation of Syrian rebels, it might be useful to read this:

... The prisoners, seven in all, were captured Syrian soldiers. Five were trussed, their backs marked with red welts. They kept their faces pressed to the dirt as the rebels’ commander recited a bitter revolutionary verse. 

“For fifty years, they are companions to corruption,” he said. “We swear to the Lord of the Throne, that this is our oath: We will take revenge.” 

The moment the poem ended, the commander, known as “the Uncle,” fired a bullet into the back of the first prisoner’s head. His gunmen followed suit, promptly killing all the men at their feet. 

This scene, documented in a video smuggled out of Syria a few days ago by a former rebel who grew disgusted by the killings, offers a dark insight into how many rebels have adopted some of the same brutal and ruthless tactics as the regime they are trying to overthrow...

Well, heck, let's just trust McCain when he says these are fabulous folk. He guaranteed it, after all. And he's on every Sunday morning show every Sunday, so who's more of an expert?

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Definitions

From John Kerry at the Senate hearings, such as they were, and from President Obama's lips come a couple of quotes that I find troubling.

“I didn’t set a red line — the world set a red line,” Obama said. “The international community’s credibility is on the line, and America and Congress’ credibility is on the line because we give lip service to the notion that these international norms are important.”

Okay then. If that's the case, why is the US planning to do it on its own? If "the world" set the line, then why isn't "the world" taking the action? And if they don't, why is it up to us? Credibility? That's the newest reason for war? Or, as it turns out, "not war?"

Kerry presented what he called a targeted strike intended to "degrade and deter" Syrian President Bashar al-Assad's ability to use chemical weapons. He stressed that this resolution will not land the U.S. in an extended war, promising no "boots on the ground."

"President Obama is not asking America to go to war," Kerry said.

Okay, yet again. New definition. War wears boots. Bombs and missiles are credibility facilitators. Attention getters. (Or, as one would expect from at least on teabaggR, distracters from scandals that aren't.)

I don't see this ending well for anyone; except, maybe, as with the Iraq invasion, our enemies. We should focus our efforts and treasure on helping the refugees. Price of a cruise missile will feed a hell of a lot of people.

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Finally They Said It

Well, of course it had to be said. What took them so long? Our president isn't praying hard enough over Syria. Because, well, it worked out so well when Bush did, over Iraq.

If President Obama is praying for guidance on how to handle Syria, he’s not doing it in church, where he has failed to set foot on more than five months. 

The president, who on the rare occasions when he does show up in a chapel often makes a high-profile stroll with his family across Lafayette Park from the White House to St. John’s Church, hasn’t been to services since Easter Sunday, March 31.

There's so much wrong with this, there's not enough room here or anywhere to cover it all. Having just shown restraint on someone's Facebook page, in not pointing out the horror of a video about an inspiring little girl who died of cancer, and all the comments rejoicing in the wonderfulness of god, I guess I'm entitled, on my own blog, to, as is included in my blog title, restate the obvious.

First of all, if I'm trying to figure out a response to an impossible situation like Syria, I'm gonna go with expert advisers, not the guy who just allowed (or, since he's all-powerful and all-knowing, caused!) the gassing of a bunch of innocents (the lord giveth and taketh away); the guy who, as confirmed by our previous leader, talked that gullible slacker into starting a disastrous war on false information and with the then-and-now-obviously impossible goal of spreading god's favorite form of government across the Middle East, leading to hundreds of thousands of deaths and maimings, displacing countless people, and releasing hatred across the region like radiation from a broken nuclear plant (blessed be the name of the lord).

Second, despite ceaseless efforts of a formerly credible political party, we're still a couple of elections away from becoming a theocracy. We should be damn well happy if our president isn't praying for guidance (although, sadly, he claims he prays up a storm.) I mean, gods forbid, what if we had a guy or girl praying to the wrong god or gods, in the wrong way, with the wrong book, in the wrong house?

Third, although no religionist will agree, the idea of prayer is definitionally inconsistent with the idea of that all-knowing and all-powerful god, one who sees our lives in full before we're even born, one who has a plan for everything, and is perfect. He's gonna do what he's gonna do. And, as we've seen since the time of the bible, odds are it won't be pretty. If you think your prayer can change his mind, you must be inhabited by the devil.

Fourth, and far from finally except in terms of this post, there can be no truth greater than the evidence that prayer fails, over and over, countless times per day; that it's, at best, a way to make people feel better in the face of the impartiality of the universe (fair enough, that); a way to convince people there's a purpose for whatever horror they're facing, that they're okay in the eyes of the very god who brought the cancer to their child, sent the school bus over the cliff, invented arthritis and hemorrhoids, stood on the sidelines while millions of "his" people were gassed and burned. Sanctified Stockholm Syndrome. (I've written about prayer, in a real-world situation, before, and created quite a stir in the comments.)

In that Facebook thread, people testified to their inspiration by and admiration of the little girl who managed, because she'd been well-indoctrinated, to see her cancer as a gift from god. Me, I'd have been more inspired had the girl not been so tortured by an entity so sociopathic that he uses an innocent child's pain and suffering as a veiled threat written in flesh, and allowed to grow up and, maybe, find the cure for cancer. Unless, of course, god likes cancer too much, finds it a useful method of torture and intimidation, that he'll continue to be sure a cure eludes us.

So, no. Me, I'd hope our president was not praying for guidance, in this or any matter. Because it's plainly a waste of precious time.

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42 And 49

Forty-two years married, today. And that's our '49 Caddie which, unlike our marriage, we let go a few years ago.

He's Back, And Talking Syria

The Daily Show

Is It The White Hats?

Top among all the things that bother and worry me about our evidently imminent attack on Syria is the certainty (he guarantees it!) of such wise men as John McCain that the opposition there is "moderate." And, hilariously in the way that a car crash is, "vetted." Good guys, all. Yeah. Right. Like the Mujahadin were in Afghanistan when Ronnie sidled up to them.

If there are good reasons to start something there -- and I haven't heard any that convince me -- not among them is the claim that the people rising against Assad are nothing but moderate; or, if they aren't all, that we can tell them apart from the bad ones. Over there, what defines "bad," anyway? Or, for that matter, "good."

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Tom Toms Of War

Tom Lehrer. One of the funniest and cleverest songsters we've had. And bitingly to the point, even singing in a different era.

[Update: just noticed, hours later, that the video didn't embed originally. Now it's there, far as I know.]

Lies Are Truth

What must it be like to be a Republican voter, knowing your leaders don't even pretend not to lie to you. Rather, they lie straight up and assume either you won't notice, or won't care. Given the trends, ever since Ronald Reagan established lying as modus operandi, it's not surprising that R politicos resort to it at every turn. But what explains the sheeplike acceptance of it among their followers? Is it stupidity? Are they, in fact, willing facilitators? Have they decided that lies are fine whenever the truth is unpleasant? Are they too consumed by fear and hatred to pay attention? Seriously: it's just amazing. It makes "1984" seem like a pussy-footed whitewash.

Several weeks ago, Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R) got caught misleading Kentucky voters about his record on the Violence Against Women Act. This morning, he was even more brazen on the subject (via Joe Sonka). 

A press release distributed by Sen. Mitch McConnell's (R-KY) campaign at a "Women for Team Mitch" event on Friday brags about the Senate Minority Leader's support for the Violence Against Women Act, even though McConnell voted against the measure in 1994, 2012, and 2013.

"Mitch was the co-sponsor of the original Violence Against Women Act -- and continues to advocate for stronger polices to protect women. I am proud to call him my senator," the document quotes a voter as saying. 

For months, a variety of congressional Republicans have pretended to support the Violence Against Women Act, even after they voted against it, hoping voters and reporters wouldn't know the difference.

Is there no point at which R voters would have the self-respect to demand better of their so-called leaders? No amount of condescension they must absorb beyond which they'd say "enough!?" Evidently not. It stands in stark contrast to the reaction of many liberals when Obama punted on single-payer, for example. And now, on the runup to whatever it is we're running up to in Syria. There are exceptions on both sides, I guess; and it's not as if there haven't been lies about, say, the NSA program.

But this is different: it's making a false statement when the facts are, in fact, known to everyone. I've never seen an email from liberals that tell easily disproven lies like those forwarded to me by "conservatives." Such lies seem their stock in trade, and they get forwarded with breathless, anger-fuelled credulity.

Knowing how well it works, having no reason to expect contradiction, Mitch McConnell, and his congressional cohorts, lie with abandon, with mystifying certainty. It's doing something, publicly, and then denying doing it, publicly. He may as well be saying "I'm not standing here talking to you, I'm somewhere else," and his audience asking "How's the weather where you are, Mitch?"

Today's Republicans truly live in an alternate universe, where truth is of no consequence.

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Fire Line

The fire at Yosemite is pretty scary and, in a way, personal. A former friend lives in its path, and I've read of smoke filling his town. Despite the venomous words he used to end the friendship, I worry about him and his lovely wife. Some things are more important than political and religious differences; especially ones that used to be talked about with respect and enjoyment.

Truer Words...

A great line, spoken by Bill Clinton recently. I even added it to my title page:

 "A great democracy does not make it harder to vote than to buy an assault weapon."

And yet, in the US of A, and, most particularly in the reddest of the red, we do. We most certainly do.

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Responsibility

I don't know what I'd do about Syria if I were president. (Of course, if I were president it would mean the political landscape had changed so much that humans would have already forsworn war, not to mention desire for theocracy in any form.) I do think that President Obama, even if he's wised up by asking for congressional consideration, has mishandled things in many ways, not the least of which is his characterizing the use of nerve gas as a "red line." Practically asking for it. I also don't know whether his dithering (or what can too easily be so characterized as such) is harmful; and, if so, to what and to whom.

But I will say this: I find it highly interesting to watch Congress, and, in particular its most egregious current and former members, react to Obama's sudden interest in following the requirements of our Constitution. I've even wondered if that's been his long-game plan: not to engage in Syria, but to let our teabagging constitutionalists scald in their own brew. Probably not, even though that's what they seem to be doing. Suddenly, when faced with the possibility of making a tough and important decision and being on the record for it; when required to do something of consequence rather than posturing for their base by producing meaningless votes against the Affordable Care Act while lying about it, they seem a little squeamish, don't they? Outraged, is what they are. Trying to figure out how and where to hide. Suddenly yelling about the president seems like just what it's been: a dodge; a duck and cover; an avoidance of meaningful action and doing their actual job. So much easier to demand consultation on the assumption he won't do it. Like the dog that caught the car, they don't know what the hell to do, now.

Peter King, paragon of perfidy, thinks the president, in requiring that Congress do its constitutional duty, is "abdicating his responsibility." Joe Lieberman, who never met a war he didn't like as long as he wasn't in it, thinks such behavior is unprecedented. "Never saw anything like it," he droops. Which might well be true: this is the first time in decades a president has suggested Congress has such an obligation. Sure, Congress "approved" the Iraq debacle; but, per usual, it was not a declaration of war. Nor, probably, would there be one in the current situation. (Rand Paul is against an attack because it might kill Christians. In fact, he's kinda okay with Assad because he's only killing Muslims.)

But there should be, if war is what's to be. Or are we at the point where we'd rather let a president fire off missiles at whomever and whatever, whenever he wants, even absent imminent threat? And call it something, but not "war."

It'll be interesting, probably frustrating, likely depressing, and quite possibly laughable watching Congress if they actually do debate the issue, and put it to a vote. Gonna be a lot of previous loudmouths suddenly finding themselves needed elsewhere. Put up or shut up. Is your toughness on terror or your disdain for the black guy stronger? Will you be able to state reasons, either way?

Guess we'll find out. For that, I'm grateful to President Obama. For screwing it up previously, not so much.

Meanwhile, despite, like any thinking person, feeling horrified that anyone would use chemical weapons on anyone, much less his own people, I can't help believing that doing nothing (were it not for the red line mess) is better than intervening, especially unilaterally. Even if it's only the lobbing of a few missiles, it's impossible to game the consequences, not only in Syria but throughout that part of the world and across the globe. With or without gas, it's a civil war in a fractured country; innocents are dying by many means. It's an awful thing; as was our own civil war. But, in the abstract at least, and possibly too cold-heartedly, it seems such wars have to play out on their own terms. Unless it's such an atrocity, as in Rwanda for example, that the whole world rises up and ends it. Which it didn't.

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Missionary Position

Sunday Column

Taking a break from political ranting, and harkening back to Surgeonsblog days, this is my latest in our local newspaper:

In medical school we were told that the diagnosticians of old could thump on a chest and detect a lung tumor as small as a centimeter. I'm not sure I believed it, but I've always had a love for the art of physical diagnosis -- of touching and listening, following the clues, learned and taught. As technology pervades, that art is becoming almost (not quite) superfluous and antiquated, an amusing throwback. Look at that old guy, touching his patient. Sweet, really, if a little creepy. Hasn't he heard of imaging? Sure I have. A realist, I've ordered a ton of 'em. Still, I’d propose that what makes a doctor a physician is the ability to use all senses, not just technology, to figure out what's going on. It's a satisfying combination of book-learning and experience, of sensory attunement to another person.

In those school days, revelations came in bunches, and each discovery seemed like a little miracle. I remember sitting across from my roommates in our apartment, getting the hang of an ophthalmoscope, using -- as required -- my left eye to see into their left, my right into their right. Frustrated by the photo-ruining red reflex we all know, finally getting past it to see the eye grounds: the retina, with its tale-telling vessels and their disease-revealing crossings of each other. And then that retinal full moon: the optic nerve. Thumb the wheel of lenses to get focus, get the depth right, and there it is. Breathtaking. Now I must be a doctor. Did I hear the split heart sounds? (It’s actually la-lub, la-dub.) Who cares? I chose surgery.

If you strum a plastic comb next to your ear, the sound it makes is similar to that of obstructed bowel. When examining for appendicitis, it's best to use one finger: point tenderness -- pain in one spot and much less right next to it -- is a tipoff. If a person has localized pneumonia, if you ask her to whisper while you listen with a stethoscope, you can hear (theoretically) the whisper more loudly over the area of infection. It’s called “whispered pectoriloquy.” Other findings with cool names: fremitus, crepitus, borborygmi, rhonchi, rales (rhymes with “pals.”) Those are textbook stuff, teachable. Gauging the tension of an abdominal wall by touch and percussion, interpreting the sound of the thump -- that's art, based on assimilated input over lots of encounters. To assess perfusion in shock, feel the warmth of the knees. Looking for subtle differences in circulation to the feet? Place each hand on a foot, hold them there, then switch: differences in temperature will be doubled.

No matter how much data I'd checked ahead of time -- labs, X-rays, chart notes -- I never felt I knew much until I saw the person I was asked to evaluate, touched him or her, observed their faces, listened to their words and the sounds of their bodies. Smelled the air in the room, sensed the level of “sickness.” Sometimes, yes: poked my finger you-know-where. To the patient -- who knows? -- perhaps it seems like posing. Going through some showy ritual, a pretense. Or maybe it's mysterious and awesome, like a conjurer, a mystic, a whole-body palmist.

After hearing the words (probably the most important of all) and doing the exam, I've taken out appendices without ordering scans. Same with gallbladders. Nowadays it feels like insanity, out-necking too far. Know what? It is. Back then I’d explain why I thought it wasn’t needed; today I’d just give up and order it.

Sometimes I'd catch myself, still with my hand on a belly while sitting on the bed talking to patient and family about my impression and recommendations. Long-since having garnered the information to be had from the examination, subconsciously I guess I liked to maintain that touch. As inspiring as it is to be allowed to operate, literally to enter into a bond and to breach boundaries of flesh that only a few are privileged to do, the physical exam has a special intimacy of its own. A unique interaction with a fellow being, heightened by practical knowledge and distilled experience, it's way more than ritual and I hope it’s never fully supplanted by magnets and beams. Drawing on all the senses and the ability to synthesize them, bringing together knowledge, skill, and instinct, as human as it gets, learning by touching another person depends on who we are and what we're made of. There's really nothing else like it.

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