Musings on Life, Love, Consciousness, Toxic Masculinity, Toxic Religion, The Sacred and The Profane

Chapter Five (proposal 2): When Does Zero Equal One? The Paradox of Salvation Through Nothingness

  Chapter Five–Ground Zero The number 42 is significant in the book The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy, by Douglas Adams.   The number 42 answers the ultimate question of Life, the Universe, and Everything, calculated by an enormous supercomputer named Deep Read more…

By Bruce, ago

Truth Optional, Power Eternal: The Unseen Truth Beyond the Texts and The Neverending Myths of Exceptionalism

The Unseen Truth Beyond the Texts One of the great tragedies of spiritual history is the limited transmission of Abraham’s mystical understanding into the biblical narratives. The Christian adherents, followers who came about 1800 years after the life of Abraham, Read more…

By Bruce, ago

Challenging the Narrative: How the American Dream Became an Oligarch’s Fantasy

CHUMP—Cease Heeding Untrue and Manipulative Propaganda, or we will continue to be the billionaire’s chumps.

Challenging the Narrative: How the American Dream Became an Oligarch’s Fantasy

It is said that a society’s values can be judged by what it reveres. If that is true, what does it say about America that we worship at the altar of the billionaire class? The gilded façades of obscene wealth hide the disheartening truth of a society that has abandoned its moral compass in favor of ego-driven accumulation and unrestrained capitalism. This allegiance to the ultra-wealthy, cloaked in the myth of the American Dream, reflects the corruption at the very heart of our nation—one where greed triumphs over justice, and environmental ruin is the collateral for economic “progress.”

The billionaire class has ascended to godlike status in America, not only dictating the trajectory of our economy but shaping our politics and environmental policies. Their influence is pervasive and their motives clear—to preserve and grow their wealth, often at unimaginable costs to the rest of society. Consider this staggering fact: the top 1% of Americans now control over 30% of the country’s wealth. Meanwhile, nearly 50% of Americans cannot afford an unexpected $400 expense without going into debt. This isn’t a wealth gap; it’s a wealth chasm.

Our nation’s obeisance to billionaires is vividly illustrated in environmental policies that benefit primarily their interests. Industries owned by these oligarchs, like oil and gas, have successfully lobbied for the rollback of countless environmental regulations. Take recent rollbacks in methane emissions standards or the scaling down of protected public lands for oil drilling. These moves demonstrate that our government prioritizes the capital interests of a select few over the existential threat of climate change—a crisis engulfing the planet. Billionaires profit while communities suffer, ecosystems collapse, and global temperatures rise to catastrophic levels.

The billionaire narrative is sold to us as one of inspiration—a reminder of what we, too, might achieve if only we work hard enough. And we buy into it. But the truth is far murkier. This myth serves to distract and pacify, keeping us from questioning the systemic injustices that prevent the vast majority of us from achieving economic security, much less the prosperity enjoyed by the elite. The American Dream has been hijacked, contorted into a fantasy that exists solely to fuel the ambitions of those already at the top.

What is particularly troubling is how deeply conservative Christian ideals are interwoven with these capitalist values. Faith, meant to uplift and guide toward collective responsibility, has been manipulated to serve profit-driven greed. It’s no coincidence that some of the loudest supporters of deregulation and tax breaks for the wealthy hail from religiously conservative bases. Figures within the American Christian right have, time and again, endorsed policies and agendas that favor the accumulation of wealth—policies that directly contradict fundamental teachings of social justice, charity, and stewardship of the natural world.

How does one reconcile the teachings of Jesus—who fiercely advocated for the poor, overturned the money changers’ tables, and warned against serving both God and money—with this alliance between faith and corporate greed? It’s a question that conservative Christianity seems unwilling to answer. Instead, its leaders defend economic systems that institutionalize inequality and excuse environmental devastation as “part of God’s plan,” all while aligning with the interests of billionaires who fund their causes or amplify their voices.

This unholy convergence of capitalism and religion has steered the nation away from addressing the moral crises of our time—climate change, inequality, and the erosion of civil rights. By sanctifying the pursuit of power and wealth, this form of Christianity has become a co-conspirator in the degradation of our planet and institutionalized injustice.

The American Dream once represented the promise of opportunity and equality—a vision of a nation where anyone, regardless of background, could achieve a better life through hard work. But when we hold up billionaires like the ultra corrupt Donald Trump, Elon Musk or Jeff Bezos as the ultimate realization of that dream, we distort its true meaning. The harsh reality is that while wealth skyrockets for the few, healthcare remains elusive for the many. The United States famously stands alone among industrialized nations without a national healthcare system, despite being the wealthiest country on the planet. Why? Because to prioritize healthcare as a universal right would require challenging the structures of greed that dominate our economy.

Similarly, the disparity between our national rhetoric and reality extends to the natural world. We celebrate free enterprise, even as it leads to the destruction of biological diversity and environmental sustainability. Forests disappear, oceans warm, and species vanish—all labeled as the “price for doing business.” There is a growing awareness among younger generations, but until our policies begin to reflect an earnest commitment to the planet, we will remain trapped in a cycle of environmental negligence fueled by oligarchic power.

This is not “freedom.” It’s feudalism dressed up in Silicon Valley branding, and we should not accept it.

If America aspires to reclaim its identity as a land of opportunity and morality, we must first confront the destructive forces of unchecked capitalism and oligarchy. This means reimagining what we value as a society. Should we continue idolizing individuals who hoard wealth while the planet burns and millions live in poverty? Or should we realign ourselves with principles of equality, environmental stewardship, and collective well-being?

The Illusion of Wealth as a Moral and Intellectual Indicator

We are often spellbound by the mythos surrounding billionaires—the idea that their vast fortunes must inherently be a result of extraordinary intelligence, unrelenting hard work, or, more dangerously, a higher sense of morality. Society projects an almost divine aura onto wealth, as though it reflects the apex of human achievement and virtue. But such beliefs crumble under scrutiny. Wealth, particularly extreme wealth, can just as easily be a marker of privilege, predatory ambition, or a distorted metric of societal values.

There is no doubt that immense wealth requires a degree of cognitive ability. But intelligence is not inherently synonymous with goodness. Consider the natural world. Predators like lions and sharks are undeniably smart in the context of their ecological roles, but their intelligence revolves around domination, aggression, and survival often at the cost of others’ existence. Billionaires, in this metaphor, may operate in a similar way within the economy—strategically, calculatingly, but often with a self-serving intent.

Take, for example, exploitative business practices that extract resources or perpetuate environmental degradation for profit. These actions may require shrewdness, but they mirror the intelligence of a parasite—a manipulative brilliance that ultimately feeds off the broader ecosystem while offering little in return. This form of intelligence, while effective in accumulating wealth, often lacks balance, humanity, and a sense of reciprocity.

Contrary to the common “rags to riches” narratives, many billionaires are not self-made. They inherit their wealth, benefitting from the exclusive socio-economic networks into which they are born. The so-called “intelligence” ascribed to them may, in fact, derive from systemic privileges that have insulated them from the struggles faced by the majority of society. Access to elite education, lucrative connections, and generational knowledge amplifies their capacity to generate wealth, often without their needing to confront the same barriers faced by those who lack such connections.

The subculture of the ultra-wealthy is one of exclusivity, secrecy, and leverage. It perpetuates itself by protecting its members from the economic realities of the everyday world. Within this insulated network, what outsiders mistake for genius is often simply familiarity with systems designed to perpetuate inequality.

When wealth exists on such an extreme scale that it surpasses the GDP of entire nations, it becomes both a destabilizing force and a symptom of entrenched injustice. Many billionaires wield their influence to reshape policies, economies, and even sociopolitical landscapes to align with their own interests. Corporate lobbying, tax loopholes, and the funding of polarizing political movements enable them to exert an outsized influence on the trajectory of societies—often without care for the collective fallout.

It is here that the ethical and moral void becomes impossible to ignore. Wealth ceases to be a tool for societal good and instead transforms into a weapon. Intelligence and power are used not to solve shared challenges but to reshape the world into a playground for the few who hold the reins. This destabilization, driven by predatory ambition, reflects a profound disregard for equity, sustainability, and the sanctity of collective well-being.

Intelligence is multifaceted. There exists a kind rooted in empathy, collaboration, and vision—a kind that transcends the short-term gains of material accumulation and works toward the long-term flourishing of all life. Imagine if the same level of resourcefulness applied to dodging taxes or monopolizing industries were redirected toward combating poverty, environmental collapse, or systemic inequity.

We should aspire to revoke the unearned moral and intellectual halos so often granted to the obscenely rich. To hold immense power and resources comes with immense responsibility—an old adage that remains as relevant as ever. The truly intelligent are those who wield influence for the collective good, crafting solutions that uplift others rather than feed off them.

It is electrifying to consider what would happen if society shifted its admiration from wealth to wisdom, from power to purpose. The billionaires may always have their wealth, but we as a society can choose who we elevate as our role models. At the end of the day, substance triumphs over ostentation, connection exceeds exploitation, and the worth of a person is not, and should not, be measured by a number in a bank account.

If we can collectively break free from the trance that conflates excessive wealth with virtue, we might learn to value and foster intelligence that serves not just the self, but the whole. That kind of intelligence does not tear the world apart with predatory agendas—it heals, innovates, and uplifts. And it is precisely this intelligence that our world desperately needs.

To turn the tide, we must demand policies that challenge the dominance of billionaire interests. National healthcare, robust environmental protections, and fair taxation are not radical ideas—they are necessities for a just and sustainable future. Beyond policy, we must reject the cultural narratives that glorify the uber-rich at the expense of ethical governance and shared humanity.

The power to change lies within us—not through admiration of billionaires, but through accountability, action, and a renewed understanding of the common good. If we fail to act, the consequences will extend far beyond our borders and far beyond our lifetimes. The time to choose whom and what we truly value is now. Will it be greed or will it be justice?

The heart and soul of America depend on the answer.

CHUMP—Cease Heeding Untrue and Manipulative Propaganda, or we will continue to be the billionaire’s chumps.

The Contradictions of Faith and Power: Donald Trump and the Divergence from Historical Christianity

Christianity is a tapestry woven with the threads of love, humility, sacrifice, and justice. At its core, it beckons humanity toward selfless service, a concern for the marginalized, and a pursuit of truth that transcends personal ambition. And yet, amidst the shifting sands of modern political arenas, these very tenets risk being eroded—or at least conveniently overlooked—by those who align their faith with power structures that stand in stark contrast to historical Christianity. The relationship between Donald Trump and many of his Christian supporters is perhaps one of the most striking illustrations of this paradox.

“Love your neighbor as yourself.” This landmark teaching of Jesus encapsulates the essence of Christian ethics. However, in Donald Trump’s rhetoric and policies during his tenure, this ideal often seemed eclipsed by divisive language and actions. From inflammatory comments targeting immigrants to dismissive attitudes toward the vulnerable, there have been repeated moments at odds with the selflessness that historical Christian figures like St. Francis of Assisi, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, or Mother Teresa embodied.

How does one reconcile, for instance, the gospel call to care for the “least of these” with policies that separate families at borders or marginalize already disadvantaged communities? It’s tempting—and all too easy—to reinterpret scripture through the lens of nationalism or self-preservation. Yet, doing so risks diluting the radical love at the heart of Christ’s teachings.

Humility is a hallmark of the Christian walk. The story of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples is the ultimate act of leadership rooted in humility and servitude. And yet, Trump, a leader often celebrated and defended by large swaths of Christian America, openly espouses a gospel of self-aggrandizement, branding his name as synonymous with success, power, and unrivaled authority.

The grandeur of gold-laden towers starkly contrasts with “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” Trump’s unabashed pride begs the question of how faith communities ought to grapple with their fidelity to a message that explicitly champions the opposite virtues—meekness, contrition, and repentance.

Those who defend Trump often point to select passages of scripture to justify their loyalty—emphasizing the Bible’s directives to respect earthly leaders or seek influence in high places. However, selective application of scripture is not a new phenomenon. Some of the darkest chapters of Christian history—from the Crusades to the defense of slavery—arose when the faith was weaponized and stripped from its full ethical context.

The gospel does not concern itself with cherry-picking that confirms biases; rather, it insists on holistic transformation. Many Christians tout alignment with specific moral issues like abortion or religious liberty as validation for their allegiance to Trump. Yet, it begs the question—should Christians trade the broader calling of justice, compassion, and humility for political wins in select battles? It’s a question the early church, unyielding to Roman imperialism and dedicated to the entirety of Christ’s message, would likely answer resoundingly.

The global perception of Christianity has not gone unscathed in America. When Christian leaders and communities link themselves so visibly to a polarizing figure like Trump, the faith risks being perceived as politically expedient rather than spiritually transformative. Among non-Christians (and indeed, even many Christians), the alignment has sown seeds of distrust.

Perhaps more troubling, globally, the image of Christianity as a beacon of universal love and justice risks eroding. Trump’s rhetoric—often laced with nationalistic overtones—is far less likely to inspire the universal brotherhood that Christianity proclaims. Instead, the alignment between political agendas and religion threatens to carve lines of division, even within the faith itself.

History has given us countless examples of Christians who courageously lived their values without compromising them for political favor. Martin Luther King Jr., guided by his unshakable belief in dignity and justice rooted in scripture, confronted uncomfortable truths while eschewing the temptation to trade moral clarity for popularity. Desmond Tutu, in the face of apartheid, stood firm not in alignment with earthly powers but in solidarity with the dispossessed.

What these figures teach us is that the credibility of Christian witness lies not in asserting dominance but in embodying the gospel—even when it costs.

For progressive Christians, sociologists, and thinkers alike, this moment provides an opportunity to reflect deeply on the intersection of faith and politics. How can Christians fully embody their historical values within the public sphere without compromising them for the sake of political expediency? How can faith communities reclaim a vision of Christianity that values servanthood over supremacy, humility over hubris, and solidarity over separateness?

To be clear, this critique is not an indictment of supporting political leaders or participating in governance. Instead, it is an invitation for Christian communities to examine their alignment critically. May the grace, justice, and profound humility that Christ exemplified guide the church’s engagement with power—not for the church’s gain, but for the sake of love, mercy, and the “least of these.”

When Christianity aligns too closely with any earthly power, it risks losing sight of its heavenly calling. It is, after all, a faith not built on thrones of gold but on a cross of wood. Never forget that Jesus was crucified because the crowd wanted Barrabus, the legendary thief and murderer to be set free.  The crowd has not changed, but Barrabus has changed into Donald Trump.

The call remains the same today as it was then—to serve, not to be served; to love, not to dominate. When faith and power collide, may Christians have the courage to remain steadfast in the pursuit of love and justice, even when it means walking away from the allure of political victory.

(Note:  I pulled a few blog posts together  for what follows- -some repetition)

To create a false world for the uninformed to believe in is the intention of propaganda and those who would take your freedom away from you.

(more…)

By Bruce, ago

The Alien Within Us: Reclaiming Humanity from “Invading” Values

The Alien Within Us: Reclaiming Humanity from “Invading” Values

What if I told you that aliens have already invaded? Not in flying saucers or intergalactic armadas, but in far more insidious forms—forms that have infiltrated our thoughts, shaped our actions, and dismantled our peace of mind. The “aliens” aren’t otherworldly civilizations; they are values and ideologies that have disguised themselves as normal, even virtuous, while silently eroding the collective spirit of humanity.

These invaders go by many names. Greed, prejudice, selfishness, and fear. They don the masks of runaway capitalism, xenophobia, patriarchal dominance, and corrupted spiritual practices. These so-called “alien” forces infiltrate our minds and institutions, twisting societal norms into tools of division and oppression. They demand allegiance, yet offer only chaos in return.

The question is not whether they’ve arrived, but whether we will recognize them—and more importantly—whether we can reclaim what we’ve lost.

To understand how these “alien values” became so deeply embedded in our society, we must first look within. Humanity’s history is one of storytelling, belief systems, and collective values. Through political, economic, and cultural shifts, societies have often moved under the influence of dominant institutions—be they religious, political, or corporate.

Over time, many of these guiding forces were corrupted. Values that should have promoted equality and connection were sculpted to serve power and profit instead. Greed was championed as ambition. Xenophobia became rebranded as patriotism. The abuse of power morphed into a twisted version of leadership.

Media, politics, and even cultural institutions act as amplifiers for these “alien” values. Sensationalized news fuels division, political figures weaponize fear, and religions are distorted to regulate and control. These forces normalize what should be unacceptable; they celebrate the very ideologies that strip individuals of their autonomy, creativity, and humanity.

The influence of these values has created societies fraught with division, inequality, and a pervasive sense of disconnection.

  • On communities: These values disrupt cohesion by driving a wedge between individuals. Fear of the “other” creates hostility toward immigrants, marginalized groups, and anyone who doesn’t conform to the prescribed norms. Distrust flourishes where empathy could have taken root.
  • On individuals: Alien values deprive us of peace and promote behaviors that perpetuate emotional and psychological harm. The idolization of material wealth drives unsustainable consumerism, while the promotion of patriarchal systems stifles individuality and self-expression.
  • On the global stage: Institutions infected by these values often advocate policies that benefit the few at the expense of the many. For every economic gain, how often is the cost paid in human dignity, environmental depletion, or outright suffering?

Perhaps the most troubling impact of these values is their ability to masquerade as “normal.” When selfishness is cloaked in success stories, or compassion is dismissed as weakness, society falls prey to a collective blindness, and the cycle repeats.

Reversing this tide requires deliberate and courageous action. Change begins when we, as individuals and communities, learn to recognize these alien values in their various disguises and commit to dismantling them.

  • Identify and interrogate these values in everyday life. Ask how often decisions—in your personal life, workplace, or government—are aligned with greed, fear, or divisiveness. Challenge the impulses that prioritize short-term gains over long-term humanity.
  • Foster empathy by engaging in meaningful conversations across differences. Listen to those outside your social or cultural bubble, and advocate for their inclusion in spaces where decisions are made.
  • Counter normalization with action. Participate in movements and initiatives that hold media platforms, political figures, and corporate entities accountable for perpetuating harmful values. Boycotts, petitions, and grassroots movements send powerful messages.
  • Create cultural shifts by promoting equitable and inclusive practices within your community. Support education that elevates critical thinking over passive acceptance of the status quo. Engage the arts as a means of shedding light on uncomfortable truths and celebrating diverse voices.
  • Build solidarity by connecting with others seeking change. Together, individuals have the power to push for recalibrated policies, fair governance, and shared visions that uplift all of humanity—not just a privileged few.

The truth is, these alien values only thrive because we allow them to. Their power lies not in their strength but in our failure to question their authority. To push back against them is to restore the fundamental interconnectedness of humanity—to replace fear with trust, greed with generosity, and division with unity.

The task is monumental, but not insurmountable. After all, we are not merely victims of these invaders, but architects of our destiny. Change begins with recognizing that the power to rewrite the narrative is already within us.

Will you take the first step?

Promote empathy and solidarity in your community. Speak out where silence once prevailed. Foster connection where fear has taken hold. Together, we can reclaim the values that honor the dignity, creativity, and love inherent in being human.

The aliens are among us—but so are the dreamers, the changemakers, and the storytellers of a better world. It’s time to turn the tide.

The Contradictions of Faith and Power: Donald Trump and the Divergence from Historical Christianity

Christianity is a tapestry woven with the threads of love, humility, sacrifice, and justice. At its core, it beckons humanity toward selfless service, a concern for the marginalized, and a pursuit of truth that transcends personal ambition. And yet, amidst the shifting sands of modern political arenas, these very tenets risk being eroded—or at least conveniently overlooked—by those who align their faith with power structures that stand in stark contrast to historical Christianity. The relationship between Donald Trump and many of his Christian supporters is perhaps one of the most striking illustrations of this paradox.

“Love your neighbor as yourself.” This landmark teaching of Jesus encapsulates the essence of Christian ethics. However, in Donald Trump’s rhetoric and policies during his tenure, this ideal often seemed eclipsed by divisive language and actions. From inflammatory comments targeting immigrants to dismissive attitudes toward the vulnerable, there have been repeated moments at odds with the selflessness that historical Christian figures like St. Francis of Assisi, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, or Mother Teresa embodied.

How does one reconcile, for instance, the gospel call to care for the “least of these” with policies that separate families at borders or marginalize already disadvantaged communities? It’s tempting—and all too easy—to reinterpret scripture through the lens of nationalism or self-preservation. Yet, doing so risks diluting the radical love at the heart of Christ’s teachings.

Humility is a hallmark of the Christian walk. The story of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples is the ultimate act of leadership rooted in humility and servitude. And yet, Trump, a leader often celebrated and defended by large swaths of Christian America, openly espouses a gospel of self-aggrandizement, branding his name as synonymous with success, power, and unrivaled authority.

The grandeur of gold-laden towers starkly contrasts with “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” Trump’s unabashed pride begs the question of how faith communities ought to grapple with their fidelity to a message that explicitly champions the opposite virtues—meekness, contrition, and repentance.

Those who defend Trump often point to select passages of scripture to justify their loyalty—emphasizing the Bible’s directives to respect earthly leaders or seek influence in high places. However, selective application of scripture is not a new phenomenon. Some of the darkest chapters of Christian history—from the Crusades to the defense of slavery—arose when the faith was weaponized and stripped from its full ethical context.

The gospel does not concern itself with cherry-picking that confirms biases; rather, it insists on holistic transformation. Many Christians tout alignment with specific moral issues like abortion or religious liberty as validation for their allegiance to Trump. Yet, it begs the question—should Christians trade the broader calling of justice, compassion, and humility for political wins in select battles? It’s a question the early church, unyielding to Roman imperialism and dedicated to the entirety of Christ’s message, would likely answer resoundingly.

The global perception of Christianity has not gone unscathed in America. When Christian leaders and communities link themselves so visibly to a polarizing figure like Trump, the faith risks being perceived as politically expedient rather than spiritually transformative. Among non-Christians (and indeed, even many Christians), the alignment has sown seeds of distrust.

Perhaps more troubling, globally, the image of Christianity as a beacon of universal love and justice risks eroding. Trump’s rhetoric—often laced with nationalistic overtones—is far less likely to inspire the universal brotherhood that Christianity proclaims. Instead, the alignment between political agendas and religion threatens to carve lines of division, even within the faith itself.

History has given us countless examples of Christians who courageously lived their values without compromising them for political favor. Martin Luther King Jr., guided by his unshakable belief in dignity and justice rooted in scripture, confronted uncomfortable truths while eschewing the temptation to trade moral clarity for popularity. Desmond Tutu, in the face of apartheid, stood firm not in alignment with earthly powers but in solidarity with the dispossessed.

What these figures teach us is that the credibility of Christian witness lies not in asserting dominance but in embodying the gospel—even when it costs.

For progressive Christians, sociologists, and thinkers alike, this moment provides an opportunity to reflect deeply on the intersection of faith and politics. How can Christians fully embody their historical values within the public sphere without compromising them for the sake of political expediency? How can faith communities reclaim a vision of Christianity that values servanthood over supremacy, humility over hubris, and solidarity over separateness?

To be clear, this critique is not an indictment of supporting political leaders or participating in governance. Instead, it is an invitation for Christian communities to examine their alignment critically. May the grace, justice, and profound humility that Christ exemplified guide the church’s engagement with power—not for the church’s gain, but for the sake of love, mercy, and the “least of these.”

When Christianity aligns too closely with any earthly power, it risks losing sight of its heavenly calling. It is, after all, a faith not built on thrones of gold but on a cross of wood. Never forget that Jesus was crucified because the crowd wanted Barrabus, the legendary thief and murderer to be set free.  The crowd has not changed, but Barrabus has changed into Donald Trump.

The call remains the same today as it was then—to serve, not to be served; to love, not to dominate. When faith and power collide, may Christians have the courage to remain steadfast in the pursuit of love and justice, even when it means walking away from the allure of political victory.

.To create a false world for the uninformed to believe in is the intention of propaganda and those who would take your freedom away from you.

(more…)

By Bruce, ago