Roadkill

There are very few things in life I despise. I don’t keep a list of things I hate but if I did, church reader boards would be on it. Maybe even somewhere near the top. These little roadside banalities never cease to iritate me. Here’s one:

“Share the Good News
Use words if necessary”

Cute. And meaningless.
Here’s another.

“A believer's greatest obstacle
is the distance between
his head and heart.”

Theologically ridiculous.

“Seven Days without Prayer Makes One Weak!”

Is this is evangelism? I’d rather have a tract thrown in my face. I always loved the colorful wrapping.

With the help of church sign generator dot com, I have come up with four reader boards I’d like to see. You’ve seen the first. Here are three more:




Remember. If you pass by a church reader board that says this,

"What’s Missing in Ch__ch?
U-R!"

then just pass by. Maybe the next church won’t prominently display it’s intellectual roadkill.

Just when I start thinking...

Just when I start thinking I’m something special, along comes someone to show me up.

If I think my new car is something, along comes someone with a better one. I start to think my yard looks nice and I see some guy who has topiaries to rival Disneyland. I’m sure if I had a boat there would be one come along to make mine look bad.

Saturday morning I went out to get my paper and there on the front page of the Yukimoo Gazette is some nut case who has just set a Guinness record for skiing one thousand consecutive days. It showed a picture of him skiing at Mt. Hood’s Timberline Lodge Resort.

Who would think up such a stunt? Here is a guy who has no job, no wife and no children. He probably doesn’t even have a girlfriend. He’s probably too ugly.

The worst part is I probably saw him on the slopes when I was at Hood fulfilling my noble quest to ski in every month of the year. Had I known about him I would have been on the lookout. I could have had by goons whack his kneecaps, Nancy Kerrigan style.

Now I’m just depressed. Ordinary and depressed. I feel like retreating into my garage to smoke and drink and not come out for years but I hear there’s already some guy after that record.

Alpine Crazy

After a short but exhilarating day at 8500 feet we tramped down the mountain on a narrow rock-strewn trail. Unaccustomed to hiking in our ski boots we kicked up small clouds of ash. Among the tourists climbing the trail an old lady stopped and exclaimed, “It’s August! They’re crazy!”

We all smiled with a pleasure that reached clear to our toes. We might be crazy but we just experienced a day like no other—well not since July anyway. We had been on the mountain for almost 4 glorious hours skiing Mt. Hood’s Palmer Glacier with Japanese snow boarders and ski racers from across the country. Oh, and butterflies in their thousands.

We left Yakima at 5:00 AM—my cousin, my son and myself—a three and a half hour drive ahead of us. US 97, another two lane corridor of scenic beauty, leads south crossing the Yakama Indian Reservation, Toppenish Ridge, Satus Creek with its wild horses grazing on the hillsides and finally through the Simcoe Mountains at Satus Pass. From the pass it’s a steady descent though the pine forests and the wheat fields of Goldendale where we get our lattes and then the steep drop into the Columbia Gorge.

Its already a beautiful day, promising temperatures into the low 90s and blue skies. But where we’re going it won’t be much over 55 degrees. Down the river we fly past the fishing boats at the mouth of the Deschutes River. At The Dalles we turn off I-84 and climb steeply out of the Gorge. I’ve never been on this road before but our normal route to Mt. Hood is closed because of forest fires. We pass some beautiful country, rolling farmland, sagebrush and forest.

As we get closer to the mountain the air gets hazy and we can smell the smoke. The Mt. Hood Complex Fire is estimated at 400 acres with 200 firefighters trying to contain it. We will breathe its smoke the entire time we’re on the mountain. We reach the parking lot at Timberline Lodge. It doesn’t seem as crowded as it was in July but the usual suspects are here. The tour company vans with their huge plywood boxes on top and the blue-painted school bus with the basketball hoop bolted to the back. The shredders and the hard cores are here. The dread heads and the seldom washed are here too. The Japanese snowboard tourists and the ski campers are all here to pay homage to the Palmer and the only place on the North American Continent to offer year-round skiing.


We dress in the parking lot. Normally this is a very involved process but today we just pull on our boots. We clump to the ski lodge and the lift beyond. The only snow seems miles distant. We have two lift rides ahead of us. The liftie instructs us to carry our skis on the first lift. This is a change from July meaning the snow has receded past the top of the first lift. We get on.

The first lift ride, at any resort at any time of the year, always brings a smile. It’s as if all our cares were just dumped at the lift house. Today is special. This time the smile recognizes the craziness of it all. Skiing in August. Traveling three and a half hours. Skirting a forest fire. Skiing on a glacier. Our mission to ski all twelve months of the year. All of it is crazy. But we’re here, against all sensibility we’re here with a big grin, the wind in our face, and the butterflies fluttering across the landscape to destinations unknown.

We get off the lift and stumble down the ramp trying to hang on to our equipment without falling on our faces. We walk down the trail leading to another ramp—this one up to the second lift, the Magic Mile. It’s rocky and dusty and reminds us we are treading on a volcano and the pumice it belched out hundreds of years ago. We remember also that Mt. Saint Helens is not that far away in time or distance. We are finally on snow. Actually it's slush like what you’d find in a snow-cone but who’s counting. We stomp into our bindings and we’re off! I take our obligatory picture with a date stamp. We must have proof that we skied on this date or our grandchildren will never believe us.


At the top of the Magic Mile, we are greeted with a panorama of the Oregon Cascades. A 50-mile view in three directions obscured only by the smoke. To the south is Mt. Jefferson, another volcanic peak. To the north and nearly straight up is the jagged top of Hood and the remnants of its crater. We stop to take our traditional “End of the Earth” picture. This one will go on my office wall with the rest. The Palmer Glacier is divided into lanes. Each is a ski camp for training race teams who come here from across the country. We get to ride the lifts with kids of all ages and their parents who tag along and enjoy the experience. One lane is kept open for the public. We make 12 runs. My legs begin to complain but I don’t want it to end.

Our last run we notice that the butterflies are thicker than ever. By the thousands they cross the rocks and the snowfield heading up and across the mountain to the northeast. Wherever they are going, they are intent on getting there.

Getting back to the lodge is a little different. We ski past the top of the first lift and down a ravine filled with snow. In July this ravine snaked all the way to the parking lot but now is an eighth of a mile short. We come to a stop sign, take off our skis and then start to hike. It’s like hiking down a dry creek bed with piles of rock and boulders on either side. The experienced skiers brought hiking shoes in their backpacks. We just do it in our boots.



At the bottom we go straight to the parking lot. No time for the lodge, we heard about a brewpub down at Government Camp and we’re hungry. In July we toured the lodge, a monument to the depression-era craftsmen who were among the thousands of unemployed until the Works Progress Administration called them to a big job at 6000 feet. Their first task was to clear 14 feet of snow. Finished in only 15 months the lodge was dedicated by FDR himself in September 1937. A national historic landmark, Timberline Lodge was the exterior setting in the movie The Shining.

Down at Government Camp we ask directions to the brewpub. A local tells us the best food in town is a street vendor selling Gyros. “Just look for the ’99 Cent Hot Dogs’ sign,’” he says. We stand in line on the sidewalk with the shopkeepers, the tourists and the Artful dodgers. Janis Joplin is cooking Gyros on a Sunbeam electric griddle in an open-air booth attached to the village grocery store. The attitude is no extra charge. They’re the best I’ve ever tasted and then it's time to go. We turn the venerable Nissan to the east, down the mountain and home. Crazy!

It’s My Party and I’ll Poop If I Want To!

Today is Peter S. Mooney’s birthday!
It’s hard to believe he was born in a Wycliffe Bible outpost in Bolivia fifty-nine years ago. Incredibly he spent the next ten years of his life learning to play Futbol and listening to the only Beach Boys Album available, Surfin’ USA, on a scratchy bit of vinyl at 33 1/3 RPM. This was when his yearning for America developed into a fever pitch. Fortunately he was able to attach himself to a Swedish army captain and his wife passing through from service in the Philippines during WW II. Deeply affected by their war experiences they took him in as their own.

Upon arriving in Fullerton California USA, Peter learned quickly that no one played Futbol but everyone liked the Beach Boys so he started hanging out in the clubs and bars along Sunset Blvd working odd jobs for the bands and performers. All the time he told his parents and family that he was going to school. First it was Westmont in Santa Barbara then it was UCSB but actually he slept in alleys and worked rock shows and concerts for the likes of Country Joe MacDonald and Captain Beefheart. It was easy to fool his parents, playing off their trust and devotion, but his brothers quickly clued-in when they kept getting free tickets to the hottest concerts of the decade.

Peter’s big break came when Bob Dylan’s publicist fell off the stage at The Summer of Love in Monterey and broke his arm. Peter stepped up to the plate, picked up the slack and filled in the void by working the phones and coordinating the acts, all the while staying in touch with the hospitalized publicist by cell phone and fax machine until the event was over. Later one of the only sober musicians, a guy named Bobby McGee said, “Who was that guy! He saved the whole event!” A few phone calls were made and the rest, as they say, is history. Peter went to work for the Joe Isuzu Marketing Group writing copy for Hodaka Motorcycles USA.

It was at JIMG that Peter saw the coming Japanese onslaught in cars and electronics. Through a series of moves and with pluck, hard work and luck Peter attained the lofty position of Chief Creative Officer in the largest advertising company in the world. Remembering his humble beginnings he lavished his new-found fortune on his family and friends. He bought a new Datsun sports car for his brother and a chain of clothing stores for his father who loved wearing imported silk ties.

Tired of the ad business, Peter struck out on his own in 2003 with a series of highly successful ventures centered around products to accessorize the suburban garage. Anchored by a revolutionary line of chemical toilets of varying price points, called the GO ‘n Flow which can be safely drained into residential streets, these products make the average garage seem just like home. Fireplaces, HVAC systems, cabinetry, furniture, even a complete salon and health spa can be custom fitted to any garage.

Peter’s greatest contribution however has been his writing. Philosophy, theology, language, psychology, history, politics and culture have all been the subject of his poetry and prose. With this in mind it is entirely appropriate to honor Peter’s life with a day of celebration.

Peter’s Ashtray is encouraging all Peter’s fans to express their appreciation in their own particular idiom. Some may want to write a poem, others to sing a song. Some may want to write a tribute, others to offer a prayer. Some may engage in their favorite pastime or recreation, others may tip a glass or just get drunk. Whatever you feel is appropriate, you are encouraged to tell us about it here at Peter’s Ashtray. We will surely pass it on.

As for us here at PA, we want to be the first to thank you, Peter, for being the air beneath our wings and the colors of our rainbow. We would not exist without you. We love you man! And congratulations on another year in paradise. May you have many more.

Important Events of 1953

Joseph Stalin dies

The Korean War ends

Dwight D. Eisenhower is inaugurated President of the United States

The cost of a 1st class stamp is $.03

The first issue of TV Guide magazine hits the newsstand

Playboy Magazine hits the newsstands. A nude Marilyn Monroe graces the cover

The Academy Awards are televised for the first time.
The winners are:
Best Picture “From Here to Eternity”
Best Actor William Holden for “Stalag 17”
Best Actress Audrey Hepburn for “Roman Holiday”

Other popular movies that year are “Peter Pan”, “House of Wax” and “Gentleman Prefer Blondes”

Emmy awards go to “I Love Lucy” for situational comedy
Best new show is “Make Room for Daddy”

Other popular TV shows are “Dragnet”, “The Milton Berle Show”, Arthur Godfrey & Friends” “The Jackie Gleason show” and the “Colgate Comedy Hour”.

B.F Skinner began his operant conditioning experiment on a newborn in Southern California. The child was kept isolated day & night in a stifling garage. As he grew, if he ventured out into the outside world for even a moment, a jolt of electrical current coursed through his pale, pasty body. His only contact with the outside world was through a box on a table in the musty garage. He would go on to learn to press small keys on a device wired to other human beings in far away places. They would respond back with a similar pressing of the keys. This became his sole source of communication & information with the world at large.


Fifty three years later, he has been so affected by this behavior modification, that he remains a recluse in his garage day & night, regardless of the extreme conditions in which he lives. Those far & wide will tap on their keys today to wish him the happiest of birthdays and for just a moment…a slight smile will cross his lips.

What, Me Worry?

"When the messiah comes we will ask him if he is coming or returning and that would establish if we would all be Jews or Christians. Until he comes, I don't worry myself about this."

Israeli Ambassador to the United States, Daniel Ayalon, answers an ABC News reporter's question about the prophecies that energize American Christians to support Israel.

The End Times News

After work as I was churning away on the elliptical machine at the gym, I was watching ABC Global Nightly Worldcast with Diane Sawyer. It was an odd experience since I was listening to David Gray in my headphones and reading the closed captions at the bottom of the screen. What caught the small amount of attention I had left was a story about how American Christians are supporting Israel in the Lebanese conflict and why.

A reporter was in a Methodist church in Texas (one of only three I’m quite sure) quoting the pulpit-speak of the Reverend Margaret Stratton, "What is happening in Israel today with their neighbors is prophesied in the Bible. The whole world should understand the reason for the conflict in the Middle East," she said, adding this has all been foretold.

"We are actually in the end of times. From what I've read in the bible and other prophetical books, I believe we're there,” added a congregant of this 200-member church. (Apparently ABC News went all the way to Texas without finding a 5000 member Living Springs Solid Rock Behemoth Baptist church even though they are on every corner.)

“The end of times, as foretold in the scriptures, is a theological reason to support Israel unconditionally so as to help bring about the return of Jesus Christ,” opines the reporter.

The reporter then tells us that roughly 3,500 evangelical Christians have descended upon Washington, DC from all 50 states as part of a new group called Christians United for Israel. (I’m sure there were a lot of Methodists there.) Quoted is the group’s organizer Pastor John Hagee, minister of the 18,000 member Cornerstone Church in San Antonio Texas, “The thing that's different about Israel is that Israel is the only nation in the world created by the hand of God.” Hagee, who has sold 600,000 copies of his apocalyptic tome Jerusalem Countdown, continued, “[There will be] an alliance between Russia and the Islamic world. Russia is going to get in that position and they are literally, with all that massive military force, going to attack Israel," Hagee said. "This is recorded in Ezekiel 38 and 39. God himself is literally going to destroy that army. Decimate it” And he said that will be followed by a Chinese army of 200 million coming to the city of Armageddon where they will meet British and U.S. forces in the Battle of Armageddon. (Hmm. I wonder how many Trains, Planes and Automobiles it will take to get 200 million Chinese to the Mediterranean?) "At that point, Jesus Christ returns to Earth and sets up his eternal kingdom in the city of Jerusalem and there's 1,000 years of peace," Hagee said. "The Jewish people are going to see the supernatural hand of God preserve them and deliver them while the enemies of Israel are crushed. That's the end-time story."

Not having served up enough red meat in this story, the ABC reporter quotes Pat Robertson, "Realizing the biblical implications, I would recommend some of you read the 38th chapter of the prophet Ezekiel to get a real fix on what's happening. We need to support Israel because it's a "biblical mandate."

I’m just not sure about that. Please don’t misunderstand, I am a supporter of the people of God anywhere and in this case I can see Israel’s legitimate right to defend its borders but I don't owe allegiance to the modern secular state of Israel and everything it does. It seems to me that if we confuse our politics with our theology we are in danger of running aground. Especially if our theology is flawed as is Mr. Hagee’s. What do I mean by that?

Any serious reading of the bible will reveal that there are very different treatments of eschatology (final things or the end times) between the Old Testament and the New Testament. The Old Testament pictures the end times in terms of the national salvation of the people of Israel. There are no plain prophesies of the church. Salvation for God’s people is primarily Israel’s salvation.

The New Testament presents a different picture. Rather than the nation of Israel we see the church, a people who believe in Jesus. New Testament eschatology deals with the future of the church.

In order to understand this dilemma two different schools of thought have emerged. Every student of the bible must choose between them. The first school says that God has two different plans or destinies for his people: one for Israel and one for the church. This is what’s called Dispensationalism.

The second school of thought sees God’s plan of salvation as progressive and interprets the Old Testament story using the New Testament. This is called Covenantalism because it sees a unity between the two covenants. This is precisely what Jesus and the disciples after him did. They reinterpreted the Old Testament passages in the light of God’s ultimate and final revelation in the person and work of Christ. This is what Jesus did when he stood in front of the Pharisees and the temple lampstand and said, “I am the light of the world,” reinterpreting Isaiah 9 and 42. Peter in his amazing sermon of Acts 2 reinterprets Psalm 110, transferring the earthly throne of David to the heavenly reign of Jesus, “…this Jesus, whom you crucified.”

The point of all this is that to jump from Ezekiel 38 to Israel’s war with Lebanon and then to Armegedon and therefore making loyalty to Israel a necessary precondition to the believer’s participation in the return of Christ is just plain wrong. I can’t bring myself to skip over the New Testament especially those passages like Matthew 24, which deal specifically with the sequence of events leading up to the return of Christ. And I refuse to bind my faith and future to the state of Israel when, as Paul says, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for [we] are all one in Christ Jesus…belonging to Christ…and are Abraham’s seed and heirs according to the promise.”