Hello again friends,

It's a remarkable experience to be viewing the US elections from afar. (And let me reassure the few of you for whom this is the first question that pops to mind: I did mail in my absentee ballot!)

First of all, no, the American elections are not on everybody's mind here. Far from it. Newspapers are covering them, of course, but in the next day or two the EU is to release a report on whether Turkey is making fast enough progress to stay on-track for possible acceptance into to the EU. (It doesn't look good.) And a former Turkish prime minister died this week. And there are floods in eastern Turkey. Life goes on, with or without the US. We're not the center of everybody's world.

Still, I feel a bit of an intense emotional connection in observing US events from afar. That came through in the brief what-the-hell-is-going-on-back-home wail I sent out a few posts ago. One thing I'd forgotten from my last sabbatical is how thin the membrane gets separating my emotions from the light of day. Whether that's due to living alone or far from home or whatever I'm not sure. Surely some combination. It's not that I get angry quicker - not that kind of emotion, actually the opposite. More that the tender emotions are less buried: being moved by the beauty of a bird in flight, the grace of Ayasofya's soaring dome, or the sincere devotion of Muslims at prayer. I'm closer to tears more often. I actually did break down and cry after I sent that email wail a couple of weeks ago, perhaps the first time I've wept for my country since 9/11, and that was less specifically for the US than just out of raw pain, grief, and shock.

I miss being able to celebrate with friends back home over the potential for a change of course that this election is bringing. For the first time in a while I'm optimistic about American politics, though I can't blithely assume that the Democrats will show the unity of purpose and high-mindedness needed to pull us out of this swamp. They have some trust building and restoration of confidence to earn.

I'm gratified, however, with the way a couple of races have gone back home in Minneapolis and in Minnesota. For those not from there, our new senator is an extremely bright and energetic woman named Amy Klobuchar (who happens to be a neighbor and a member of our church). She's also the first woman elected to the Senate from Minnesota. And our new congressman is an inspiring and compassionate man named Keith Ellison who is the first person of color elected to Congress from Minnesota and the first Muslim elected from anywhere in the US. In both cases it's not so much the party affiliation as the qualities of the people that give me hope. I hope others who have won election - from whatever party - are as good. And that Amy and Keith and all the others will be able to keep true to their better lights once they get swallowed up in DC. Hopefully they won't get swallowed up there.

My dad was quite a patriot, and I know it was hard for him that I didn't share the same kind of patriotism he had. For years I wouldn't have said I was patriotic at all. I blame Nixon, Watergate, and the Vietnam War for a lot of that. But there's also a religious principle at play there, a definite problem when love of country trumps faithfulness to God and our bond with people all over the world, whether defined as friend or enemy. I'm not talking specifically about my dad's patriotism here, just describing part of the unease I've always had with patriotism in general.

But living in another land (and also my grief over not just 9/11 but especially the way we've turned our grief into belligerence) has led me to realize how much I do love my country. Sadly, that realization has come through an awareness of loss - the ideals that we've forfeited. And late in the game, I'm coming to know - to finally really know - that love of country doesn't have to mean de-valuing other countries, other peoples, etc., or a lessening of one's faithfulness.

I may not get all the words right, but there's a hymn in our hymnal that often makes my eyes well up with tears (and being on sabbatical, there they go again as I think of this), sung to the tune Finlandia:

My country's skies are bluer than the ocean
And sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine
But other lands have sunlight too and clover
And skies are everywhere as blue as mine
O hear my song, O God of all the nations...

and then something about other people having "dreams as true and high as mine."

You get the idea. But I still have a knee-jerk reaction - sometimes well-deserved - against all the "God Bless America" codas to political speeches. And don't even get me started on that "Proud to Be an American" anthem that they used to play at the 7th-inning stretch at Twins games. (The 7th-inning stretch, mind you. Talk about fiddling around with the sacred!)

I jest, of course. But really...

Be well, friends. Hug your loved ones.

And say a prayer for those you don't find so lovable (and one for yourself, too, while you're at it).

I miss you all,