An Open Letter From a Breaking Heart

This is a post written by Calvin Peña.  I met Calvin, who is one of my daughter's friends, through social media.  This post by Calvin started out as a message that he sent me in response to my last post; America Heal Thyself IV.  His words resonated so I asked him permission to publish it as a post.

An Open Letter From a Breaking Heart

Calvin Peña

Even when I was a regular church-goer I never thought I would break down and cry at a Bible verse.  Think again.  I came across a verse in Matthew 25 recently that brought me to uncontrollable tears: "He will reply, 'Truly I tell you, that whatever you did not do for the least of these, you did not do for me." 

 

For perspective purposes I feel I should provide that while I do not claim any particular religion, I do believe in god. I also don't believe that Romney is a demon any more than I believe Obama is an angel.  But, I do think Romney is gigantic prick-bag.

Today, no matter what other majorities are out there, the overall majority of the people on earth are Christian. And they are such in one of many colors, shapes, sizes, and languages that Christianity comes in. So why are we not constantly at peace instead of war?  Why do so many people still die of starvation, of treatable illness, of such profound neglect?  Focusing in on America, society seems to have a limited view of what it means to truly 'give' and the overwhelming American potential and responsibility to do so.

We seem to know nothing of the myriad ways we, not only don't sufficiently give to, but in fact take from others who are profoundly less fortunate (read this--politically and religiously neutral--article entitled "The SingerSolution to World Poverty" if you'd like specifics...it will change your life).  And in many cases people adopt the belief that some simply must suffer, that that's just how it is.  Hell, that's the mentality that kept great numbers of Christians and Jews faithful throughout and after the Holocaust.  One would think such a widespread, systematic, and rather easily carried out massacre of so many innocent people surely would've been a PR nightmare for the Judeo-Christian almighty, considering his omniscience and omnipotence and all-loving nature.  But afterwards very few flinched in that regard, rather they thanked god when it finally came to an end. And it took only some 55 million casualties (military & civilian) to get there.

I cried at the words in the Gospel of Matthew not because they were so profound and groundbreaking that I lost control of my emotions, in fact quite the opposite.  I am very familiar with the Bible; I come from a Catholic background though I no longer practice.  I cried because I want to believe that it's impossible for the same people who claim to live and breathe the Gospel not to see the underlying intolerance and muted hatred in their ways — in using their religious platforms as an apparatus to influence public policy that oppresses homosexuals and women and the poor and meek; in condemning (but somehow conveniently not condemning, that's "god's job") anyone who doesn't believe in Jesus.  And more people will crumble to their feet in poverty and illness and desperation.  How do so many of Christ's AMERICAN followers not see that there isn't at all a fine line between religious freedom and theocracy?  Millions to billions of "Christians" have been reading and teaching the Gospel for centuries, a book that offers a story of man, who was nothing like the oppressive, exclusivist, separatist drones that follow him today.  But they crusade on.  Compelled to always share the wrath alongside with the love of their god, and only talk about the latter.  And beyond those that carry a Bible in one hand and a bludgeon in the other, there are those who aren't afflicted by religion but by a plain selfish and ignorant nature.

I broke down because I found myself faced with the very real questions of “What are we gonna do?...what am I gonna do?”  Time and time again the simple resolutions of peace and of charity and compassion are marred by our conditioned desires to lift up ourselves over others. There is a Frankenstein of nearly overwhelming hopelessness that rises from the realization that throughout history a great many truly good men and women have given their lives in the name of justice and peace and brotherhood that just hasn't yet become a reality.  From Dr. King to Gandhi to the Beatles and Mother Theresa, this baton of "love conquers all," of "peace and prosperity" was passed on to me and my brothers and my peers.  It was passed on to us in hopes that we will take it and cross the distant finish line.  How can we do that when prestige and status are becoming ever more about, and only about, how far ahead of everyone else one can get?  We are flooded with that mentality, literally drowning in it, in the best country in the world.

We are told that this reach-for-the-top game is what keeps America free and the no. 1 world superpower, that anything contrary is Socialist, Marxist, Communist.  If you are not in favor of an America divided into only the rich and only the poor, you are an enemy of capitalism. Because Americans thrive on competition: the essential element necessary for the best of the best to rise up. The competitive drive would cease if we all began taking care of each other! This mutation of patriotism and piety has put the me-first parasite in people's red, white, and blue hearts. How do you fight that? It is pain, it is frustration, it is confusion.  I cannot bring myself to believe it is difficult to understand that all that happens in a baton where people are constantly lifting others up, is less people get stepped on. They must not want such a future.

I found myself in tears because all I want to do is be a writer. But tens of hundreds of thousands before me have tried their hand at writing AND teaching AND marching AND singing AND starving for a better world.  And here we are.  With a lot of colorful history books, novels, and magazines, and a world at war with itself. However I must fight, I will.  But the horizon where my children grow to be old and raise families and thrive in peace is fading...and it's enough to break a man's heart.

Calvin Anthony Peña.  I’m 25 and the oldest of 3 sons.  My big Mexican (and part Irish) family hails from the Los Angeles suburbs. Mainly Whittier.  After finishing my AA at San Diego Mesa College and completing a journalism internship at the San Diego Union-Tribune, I set off on a road trip across the country to pursue my dreams of traveling and writing and debauchery.  Bartending is what pays my bills.  Currently I have a temporary home base set up in North Carolina.