Guest Column: A Pastor’s View on It All

By Guest

By Dr. John Tamilio III, Pastor, Congregational Church of Canton

Those who know me can attest that I am not one of those holy roller ministers — those hell, fire, and brimstone preachers who thump the pulpit calling his parishioners “wretched sinners,” although it would do us all a world of good to be called that once in a while. I do admire their zeal, and their fervor is passionate. However, I am not like that.

Rev. Dr. John Tamilio

I am one of those pastors who tries to relate the text (and what it means, especially in its historical context) to today — to how we can apply those lessons to our lives in order to be Christ-like. All good. But seeing what is happening between Israel and Iran, not to mention the growing political unrest in many of our major cities, it is hard not to think that I just might be catching a whiff of sulfur wafting in on the evening breeze.

There are people in parts of the world who literally go to bed smelling that chemical compound. They awake to it, too. They hide from it. They pray to their god for deliverance in their tongue. These are the innocents, no different than those who fell at the hands of Herod. These are the real victims of war. My heart truly breaks for them. This is one of those times when words fail to capture how I feel.

Of course, my heart also breaks for Israel who has had to defend their right to exist for millennia, not just since 1948. Antisemitism has become fashionable in certain circles. It’s disgusting, not to mention intolerable.

I do not know if we are going to see other manifestations of Ezekiel 38-39 appear. I hope not. I, like many of you, anxiously await the response from Russia and the United States. I pray for peace, but that word has almost become cliché in a world driven by consumption and egoism to become what Benjamin Barber has dubbed the infotainment culture.

People work harder and harder each year. They see more and more of their taxes leaving their communities and ending up in the pockets of executives and investors. They witness the price of everyday items … I’m not talking about luxuries. I’m not even talking about interest rates. I am talking about eggs. Gasoline. Oranges. Bread. Chicken. Essentials. The fruits of their labor are paying for the high costs of vegetables. And then we get up every morning and do the same thing all over again. Pink Floyd put it best: “Welcome, my son. Welcome to the machine.”

I write these musings on the same day that the jury began deliberating the (second) Karen Read trial. Many people have asked me my opinion on this case. I don’t mean my parishioners or other people who live in Canton. I am referring to many of my Italian relatives who are obsessed with this story. They saw my 15 seconds of fame (which took a day to film) on 20/20 and think I know something — that I have some inside information. I do. This case has divided this community. That’s what I know. That’s all I know. I am not pointing fingers at anybody, mind you. This is about all of us. Remember, as Mark Knopfler sang, “When you point your finger ‘cause your plan fell through, you’ve got three more fingers pointing back at you, yeah!”

No, this is not just about this high-profile case. It is a feeling of malaise washing over everyone and everything. It is about the state of the nation — the state of the world. Bombs are falling on Iran. Iran has retaliated. “No Kings” demonstrations are taking place in communities across America. Many of our major cities are witnessing the primary human response to disagreements: violence. People are at odds over everything from immigration, to abortion, to climate change, to guns, to you name it. Nothing changes. Nothing.

But maybe it can.

Maybe God will change the world one heart at a time. Maybe that is what God is trying to do. Maybe God is knocking on your proverbial door as you read this. Wait … Did you feel that?

You can make a difference. You can, and that is significant. No one can do what you can do the way you can do it. No one. You have a world of possibilities at your disposal and they can unfold in a plethora of ways.

Maybe this is the start of the end times. Maybe that would be a good thing. After all, each week I pray, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done” with my flock. If God’s realm of unrivalled peace, love, and justice descends upon us tomorrow, I will be the first to sing, “Alleluia!”

But if it doesn’t, then the problems remain in our hands — for us to be different, to live differently. Try thinking about others before thinking about yourself, and do unto them as you’d have them do unto you. (You’ll feel good about it. I promise.) Seek to be part of the solution rather than the problem, as the old adage claims. Have a conversation with that guy wearing a MAGA hat, or that girl with purple hair, tattoos, and piercings. You’ll be amazed at what you’ll learn.

Allow me to cite one last classic rocker. I love that line by Billy Joel, “The good ol’ days weren’t always good, and tomorrow ain’t as bad as it seems.” He’s right. Tomorrow can be better, if we want it to be. Remember, as Saint Teresa of Avila wrote, “Christ has no body now but yours / No hands, no feet on earth but yours.”

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