To End Crucifixion

by ©️Leslye Joy Allen

The first time I heard of crucifixion outside of a biblical context I was watching the film Spartacus, released in 1960 that starred Kirk Douglas. I was in high school in the 1970s when I first saw the film on television.

Crucifixion was one of the most excruciating and barbaric of all forms of execution. The person on the cross, slowly and agonizingly, died from suffocation as their rib cage was forced upwards. They could not fully breathe and eventually they died.

No moment in the film Spartacus brought me more tears than the fight scene when the slaves “Spartacus” (Douglas) and “Antoninus” (played by Tony Curtis) were forced by Roman authorities to fight each other to the death.

Spartacus and Antoninus, who loved each other like brothers, were determined to kill one another in order to spare the other the agony of crucifixion. Spartacus eventually kills Antoninus. In grief, Spartacus yells at his tormentors, “He’ll come back. He’ll come back; and he’ll be millions.”

That scene gave me the sense that when the best people die, they will somehow be reincarnated and other people of goodwill will join them. That belief, however, has never brought me much comfort.

MAGA supporters are not likely to understand my interpretation of the themes in the film Spartacus. They follow orders, not facts. They don’t think of people on the Left, or people of peace as anything other than unrealistic and subhuman. They don’t think compromise with people with whom they disagree is anything other than a show of weakness.

MAGA adherents of all races and ethnicities believe in White male supremacy in a world that gets browner by the day. While U. S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers round up every undocumented brown worker they can find, Felon 47 wants to annex countries inhabited primarily by people classifiable as white.

White male supremacy only functions when people believe in the stereotype of the “Great White Father” who is considered the only one fit to lead and to appoint others to important positions. This is part of the reason why a lot of voters voted against their own interests and against their own people.

Felon 47 supporters always claim to be Christians. I do not entirely trust the Christianity formulated in the Western World because the people who formulated it cannot even so much as admit that there is virtually no such thing as a person classifiable as “white” that was/is native to any location in the Middle East or North and Eastern Africa.

A sandy blond-haired, white-complexioned, blue-eyed Yeshu’a has always been a lie. So, when you engage with MAGA supporters (and many anti-MAGA folks) you are engaging with people where generations of their families have prescribed to the lie for centuries. Felon 47 stepped into a centuries old illusion, proclaimed himself to be sent by God, then went around autographing Bibles.

I can count on one hand the Christian ministers I respect; most of them are women. They inspire. They pray. They analyze. They talk about justice. They talk to you like you have a brain; and they do so without the big egos and the expectance of deference I have encountered from a few too many clergymen.

At the end of all discussions and analyses, Yeshu’a’s life still ends the same way. No matter how good he was, he was still executed by crucifixion which was the Roman Empire’s method of execution for paupers and other petty criminals.

No matter how popular an itinerant preacher Yeshu’a was, church fathers and the Roman government considered him a threat to their power; and they used every lie, every smear campaign against him until many of his own followers turned against him and called for him to be put to death.

I do wonder when we, particularly those of us in the Western World, will get sick of that perpetual narrative where someone has to die in order to free us?

Must the good man or the good woman always be the sacrifice? Or, have we absorbed a skewed Western Christian Worldview for so long that we cannot even imagine any form of salvation, deliverance or peace without someone being killed?

Is some form of crucifixion inevitable or merely a twisted human habit where we refuse to think our way out and fight our way out of problems we cannot completely face so that we require a martyr to prove we were, at least, thinking in the right manner? That kind of thinking should not ease our consciences.

Maybe I’m a fool, but I still think that if we learned anything—even from an edited and modified form of Christianity—it ought to be that goodness and mercy and fair play may get someone jailed or killed, but it should not have to be that way.

Church services are often filled with sermons that make Yeshu’a seem more like a spirit than a flesh and blood man who once walked the earth. And if it is true that he died for our sins, exactly when do we accept that the point of his crucifixion was for us to do more than just acknowledge the awful habits of human history where we persecute or allow good men and women to continue to be persecuted?

Felon 47 and his underlings corrupt every precedent set by Yeshu’a. They resemble the Roman government and its sycophants while they embrace the Nihilistic principles of a 19th century Russian Party that used terrorism and assassination as part of their reform.

MAGA supporters and Felon 47 let people be detained or die in order to stave off the inevitability of the collapse of the White Western World. But will we, who know Felon 47 is wrong, fight to stop the deaths, persecutions, and detentions of people who only want to work and feed their families?

Will we ever admit that the story of Yeshu’a’s crucifixion means that we are charged with ending the blood-letting, the needless assaults, the threats? Will we ever be brave enough to end needless persecutions; or will we watch these modern-day crucifixions as if we were watching the fight between Spartacus and Antoninus thinking that it is only a movie. So, no one actually died.

©️Leslye Joy Allen

Tony Curtis (left) ; Kirk Douglas (right) in the film SPARTICUS, 1960. Alamy Stock Photo

All blogs written by Leslye Joy Allen are protected by U. S. Copyright Law and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Any partial or total reference to any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen, or any total or partial excerpt of any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen must contain a direct reference to this hyperlink: https://leslyejoyallen.com with Leslye Joy Allen clearly stated as the author.  Postings or blogs placed here by other writers should clearly reference those writers.  All Rights Reserved.

How I Maintain Peace and Equilibrium

by Leslye Joy Allen

Copyright © 2017 by Leslye Joy Allen. All Rights Reserved.

Adire Eleko cloth (Yorùbá, circa 1960)

The following is simply a few of my methods for maintaining a sense of balance and a sense of peace.  This is not for everyone, nor should it be.  Each individual must find where their sense of balance is…The following I learned from my late mother and father, a few late cousins, several former professors, some friends, and from my students and the young people I mentor:

I believe in spending time with and listening to young people. Children, adolescents and young adults not only need guidance but I also need their guidance. Only they can tell me how they feel or how they arrived at a particular opinion. I ask them to teach me something and they always do; and just as I learn something new, they also feel empowered because an older person needed their assistance and advice and respected their capacity to give it.

I avoid negative people. That person (or people) who never has anything nice to say about anything or anyone can ruin an otherwise great day. I avoid them as much as possible or altogether.  (Included in this group are whiners, complainers, moochers, and those who are chronically lazy.)

I expect good treatment and greet almost everyone with a smile; and 99 times out of 100 I get that good treatment and friendliness back. Most people will smile back and speak, but even if they do not smile back, I do not lose anything by smiling and being friendly.  A kind word to a waiter or customer service representative has often gotten me a few perks.

I stop from time-to-time to take a snapshot of a flower, a sunset or a view that catches my attention. Occasionally, I have pulled over on the side of the road to do this. When I look for beauty I often find it.

I turn off the news. I have purged myself of the affliction of addiction to bad news, to horrifying news, to doom and gloom.  Yes, there are plenty of problems that need and should have my attention and my activism. Yet, a combination of activism and cynicism does not work for me; neither does feeding off of the gore and bad policies that have overtaken most news outlets.

I pick my battles. Not every battle is worth the tension and heat it generates. If the battle only allows me to blow off steam, if it resolves nothing nor makes me any income nor pushes me any closer to my goals, then I do not need to participate in that battle. When the battle helps me or someone else, then I might fight it.

I maintain an inquisitiveness about spirituality, the arts, about my ancestors, and I do the research.  For example, I love the idea that the Yorùbá people (along with their many Afro-American descendants in the Americas) believe that procreation is also a form of art.  A sense of wonder about creation and creativity (artistic and otherwise) without the rigid dogmas of organized religions is a better path for me to stay connected to my Creator, and all of creation.

I hope anyone who reads this finds (or has found) his or her own path to peace.

Àṣé!

Copyright © 2017 by Leslye Joy Allen.  All Rights Reserved.

This blog was written by Leslye Joy Allen and is protected by U. S. Copyright Law and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Any partial or total reference to this or any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen, or any total or partial excerpt of this or any blog by Leslye Joy Allen must contain a direct reference to this hyperlink: https://leslyejoyallen.com with Leslye Joy Allen clearly stated as the author. All Rights Reserved.

 

The Old Souls…

by Leslye Joy Allen

“Self Portrait” by Copyright © 2015 Leslye Joy Allen.  All Rights Reserved.

“Self Portrait” by Copyright © 2015 Leslye Joy Allen. All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2016 by Leslye Joy Allen. All Rights Reserved.

This blog is just a quick update…I have recently been in touch with young people who belong to, or I should say are in communiqué with, the Old Souls…

Old Souls are those ancestors who have passed on and who regularly communicate with children and other young people in their efforts to keep the majority of us on the straight-and-narrow path…

I cannot begin to tell you how many people I know who are the parents of small children who speak as if they are well over the age of eighty when they speak…All I can say is that it is the Old Souls that speak to and through these children and young adults…

I have also experienced this with the young people that I have taught and/or mentored and/or influenced in some way. Quite often, I hear some pearl of wisdom, some saying or colloquialism that they are much too young to know.  It comes out of their mouths as if my/our grandparents or great grandparents are speaking through them…

I have learned to listen to that Old Wisdom coming from young mouths…I have also learned to completely let go of that Western Judaic-Christian tradition that, unfortunately, draws a sharp demarcation between the secular and the sacred…I have known this to be problematic for quite some time. It has taken me nearly a lifetime to BELIEVE it was problematic…

In most of the many varied African cosmological traditions, a problem (or a person who presents themselves as a problem) was there to teach everyone involved in the problem an important moral or ethical lesson…The requirement was to experience the problem and fully learn the lesson and in order to learn the lesson one must be fully human—not holy—but human…

In my own very recent and past losses, I have learned to trust this fully human experience from the young people I have encountered (and by young, I mean post-Baby Boomers) who do not need judgment as much as they need our guidance and love. They do not need criticism as much as they need our support and cushion, as they try and fail and learn from their experiences and failures and successes…

And we must remember and acknowledge that they are not as young as we older folk would like to believe they are…They come bearing the gifts of the Old Souls and we would do well to listen and learn…I have learned to listen.  When I do, I often I hear my parents and grandparents voices…Àṣé!

Copyright © 2016 by Leslye Joy Allen. All Rights Reserved.

 

This blog was written by Leslye Joy Allen and is protected by U. S. Copyright Law and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.   Any partial or total reference to this or any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen, or any total or partial excerpt of this or any blog by Leslye Joy Allen must contain a direct reference to this hyperlink: http://leslyejoyallen.com with Leslye Joy Allen clearly stated as the author. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

A New Definition of Brother…

Copyright © 2016 by Leslye Joy Allen. All Rights Reserved.

“Self Portrait” by Copyright © 2015 Leslye Joy Allen.  All Rights Reserved.

“Self Portrait” by Copyright © 2015 Leslye Joy Allen. All Rights Reserved.

I had to learn the hard way not to rely solely on

American-born brothers who

talk plenty smack and talk plenty righteousness about

how we Black folk have work to do, but at the same time demand

that I keep my mouth shut about the mess that affects me as a woman and all 

that infects us/we as a people…

I had to learn the hard way that many of my brothers did not

arrive speaking with American accents, but

some had/have foreign accents so thick that I

need(ed) someone to decipher what they were saying, but

what they said mattered less than what they did…

I learned that plenty Josés and Juans and Ahmads and Maliks and

Etiennes and Lúcios and Willies and Sams

 of my world

and my hemisphere

weighed in on matters that affected my life as a Black woman when

so many other so-called brothers assumed that my problems as a Black female

would be handled by someone else or

handled by me by myself…

I had to learn the hard way that my definition of “brother” needed to remain

outside of my typical geographic boundaries of what I/We call the USA

and we either grab hold of each other as kith and kin

or we drown in the waters waiting for

some definition that none of us could live with anyway.

                                  – Leslye Joy Allen, Copyright © 2016. All Rights Reserved.

 

This blog was written by Leslye Joy Allen and is protected by U. S. Copyright Law and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.   Any partial or total reference to this or any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen, or any total or partial excerpt of this or any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen must contain a direct reference to this hyperlink: http://leslyejoyallen.com with Leslye Joy Allen clearly stated as the author.  Postings or blogs placed here by other writers should clearly reference those writers.  All Rights Reserved.

 

Guide My Feet…

by Leslye Joy Allen

“Guide My Feet”
(Traditional Negro Spiritual)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2015 by Leslye Joy Allen. All Rights Reserved.

I am grateful that my late Mama and Daddy taught me our old African tradition of ancestor worship.   That worship was as much a part of my childhood as was the old Western Judeo-Christian tradition…Now, for those who know me well, you know that I can be the most severe critic of ministers and organized religion(s) that too often fail to act in the best interests of the flocks they claim to serve, lead and protect.  Yet, that is another blog.  Save your breath.  I am only responding to the message(s) sent to me…

I occasionally re-read the poem that my friend actor-poet-writer Charles Reese wrote immediately following the death of my nearly 92-year-old mother in early 2013.  In homage to her, he referred to my Mama as “a Queen,” but he also referred to her as “our newest ancestor.” — Nothing in “Syble’s Poem” struck me as much as that line about her becoming an ancestor.  For people who know my late Mama, they know that certain songs remained in her repertoire right up to the very end of her days here on earth.

I do not need to recount the tragedies that have happened to Black folk in the last few weeks or even over the last year.  Yet, for the last couple of days I have been unable to get the old Negro Spiritual “Guide My Feet” out of my head.  Composed and sung in the caldron of American chattel slavery and passed down from generation-to-generation by my people, I have been singing it and humming it off-and-on for the last couple of months.  At first, I thought I was going crazy.  I must confess that I had a similar experience with “You Gotta to Move,” a Gospel/Blues song composed by Mississippi Fred McDowell.  A few months earlier in the year, I was singing “You Gotta Move” in an impromptu singing session that followed a gathering of my Sistahs that was a combination of good coffee, prayer, testimony, and truth-talking with each other at Dream Café…A few days after that meeting, I ran into a brother in a wheelchair who was singing the same song on a corner in downtown Atlanta.  That had to mean something, I thought…

When I went to my cousin Dexter’s graduation from Morehouse College this past May 2015, the class Valedictorian and Summa Cum Laude graduate Jerek Sharrod Brown burst into “Guide My Feet” before he began his inspirational and spellbinding Valedictory address.   His voice in song was an unexpected, but welcome and perfectly poetic pleasure.  I felt something inside of me shift and move when Brown sang and when he spoke.  I felt something shift again when my cousin Dexter’s name was called as a new graduate of Morehouse College. After all, I remembered when I first held him in my arms when he was still an infant…

Today I decided to see whether the lyrics to “Guide My Feet” would come up in a general search on Google.  It did.  Now, usually when something comes up in an internet search, I typically download it and then email it to myself just to make sure that I have a couple of copies of my research findings in two different places.  Yet, something strange and beautiful happened after I performed my usual ritual…

When I clicked the email button to send my Google search findings to myself, the email did not pull up my personal email address.  Instead, it opened my late Mama’s email address which was and remains a secondary email account affiliated with my own primary account…Sometimes the Creator knows that you need a little help.  Sometimes the ancestors are talking to you…

There are moments when no matter how bad things are or may seem, you simply do not worry and you no longer expend energy on people who do not work in your and your own people’s best interests.   I have reached that moment. More than we know or acknowledge, the ancestors speak to us in small but important ways if WE only listen, if WE only listen…So, Thank You Mama and Daddy and all the known and unknown ancestors and saints…Thank You Goddess…Thank You God…Peace and Blessings.  Àṣé…

Guide my Feet,

while I run this race.

Guide my Feet,

while I run this race.

Guide my feet,

while I run this race,

For I don’t want to run this race in vain.

 

Copyright © 2015 by Leslye Joy Allen. All Rights Reserved.

This Blog was written by Leslye Joy Allen and is protected by U. S. Copyright Law and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Any partial or total reference to this blog or any total or partial excerpt of this blog must contain a direct reference to this hyperlink: http://leslyejoyallen.com with Leslye Joy Allen clearly and visibly stated as the author. All Rights Reserved.