Memory is short. It definitely needs to get a little longer.

In a time of economic recession, it’s easy to get a little scared, a little angry. It’s human. We don’t know what’s coming around the corner, and we feel unsafe. And when we feel unsafe, we often lash out.

In the 1930s, Germany was in deep economic recession. After World War I, the terms of the Treaty of Versailles ground the German economy to a halt, and the cost of food and basic goods skyrocketed. It was in a time like this that Hitler could rise to power. And he found an easy scapegoat for all their problems: the Jews. The Third Reich made them wear yellow stars of David. If they forgot to wear them, they were often beaten and killed. If they wore them, then they were tormented and scorned. They could be punished if it was a couple centimeters to the left, or if it was safety-pinned instead of being sewed on. It was humiliating. When those yellow stars came on, it was a world separated by the Jewish and the non-Jewish. And they didn’t quench the anger: six million were decimated by the time the war was over.

In America, we’re also in a time of economic recession. It’s easy to be a little scared, a little angry. It’s easy to lash out. And right now, we’re on the doorstep of repeating a disastrous history. We won’t do it across the Atlantic. We’ll do it right in our front yard, in one of the hardest places hit by the collapse of the housing market — Arizona.

Arizona just passed the nation’s toughest immigration law, signed in by Gov. Brewer. By August, it will be a crime if you forget your immigration papers. If you forget them, you can be arrested. Even if the police merely suspect you’re in the country illegally, they can detain you. The police aren’t going to stop men of Irish ancestry or women of Swedish ancestry. They’re targeting a particular people. And forcing them not to leave their badges — I mean, their papers — at home. This is an open invitation to the widespread harassment of the Latino community — even if they are American citizens. This action won’t bring back the housing market, and — I assure you — it won’t quench the anger either.

We’ve done it before. We interned the Japanese during World War II. Hate crimes occurred against Middle Eastern Americans — and South Asians as well, just because they look similar — after 9/11. When we feel unsafe, we lash out at people groups less powerful than ourselves. That’s unjust, and thus, deeply sinful.

God warns us here repeatedly in the Christian Scriptures: “Do not mistreat or oppress a foreigner.” And, “You are to have the same law for the foreigner and the native-born. I am the Lord your God.” Jesus himself said that the entire Jewish Scriptures could be summed up by two commands: love God, and love your neighbor. And for him, that neighbor wasn’t born on native soil.

The Arizona legislation is not the solution, but will only add to the problems. This isn’t an issue about political parties anymore. It doesn’t matter if you’re Right or Left, Red or Blue. It’s about people. The worth of human beings. And it’s also deeply spiritual: it’s about the soul of this country. And everyone’s in it.

Remember, we’ve done this before. Pray that it doesn’t happen again.

It’s Christmas Eve, and we’re in the middle of a recession. And if the pundits are right, it’s the worst economic slide since the Great Depression. In it, we’re spending less: Christmas sales are down, even online. For many, that merely reinforces the fact that our economy is hitting the brakes, which leads to despair. But what if this could be a season of hope and opportunity?

Giving is also down. And something seems wrong about that. In a time of fiscal crisis, I know we all have less. But since there’s a greater need, shouldn’t giving actually increase?

That’s where we need vision for a new kind of economy. I don’t think we’ll ever get rid of the one we have: capitalism is the survivor of the fittest, and it looks like it’s here to stay. But if, in the simplest of terms, a robust economy is measured by how quickly the money flows from one hand to another, why should it be dominated by a system of the purchase of goods and services? In a market system, we earn dollars to spend on things, which goes back to corporations to pay for salaries, which come back to us — and it all goes around in a circle. In a good economy, that money flows around faster. In a bad one, the cycle slows to a standstill.

So why not have a system where giving has a far larger share. It’s still a cycle where money is exchanged, and the giving can support non-profit organizations who offer jobs and provide social services with what they do — to the benefit of society — while also providing income so that these workers can survive and continue to contribute to the market economy. Just as rising oil prices pressed for greener alternatives (though that pressure is now off), perhaps a recession can push for alternatives to augment our market economy.

For example, my friend pointed out an idea from Simon Chan’s book, Crazy Love. On page 120, Chan makes the suggestion that Christians could try to live at or below the median income ($46,000 in 2006). Perhaps a national number is unrealistic because of where you live. Perhaps you choose your county’s median income, or your city’s. Or perhaps you can’t do it now, but you might be able to in a few years. No problem. But you try. And you put yourself at a limit, then give the rest away. Or just a lot of it away. Wouldn’t that feel refreshing? It feels a lot like what Jesus would teach.

And he didn’t just teach on it. He also asked people to do it. Remember the rich, young ruler, who lived as a moral exemplar, but couldn’t give all of his money and possessions away to the poor? Jesus let him walk away. Or Zacchaeus, who gave away half of his wealth to the poor, and gave back four the times the amount he stole unfairly? When salvation came to his house, so did justice. And vice versa, when justice came to his house, so did salvation.

This is where Christmas comes in. Jesus also limited himself. On Christmas, we celebrate that God showed up on earth as a cooing, crying baby. That’s limiting. A biblical author writes: “Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death—and the worst kind of death at that—a crucifixion.”

So as followers of Jesus, what if we decided to live on the median income of the region we live in? And then gave the rest away. We’d still be rich in comparison to the rest of the world, where one billion people live without access to clean water or electricity. In America, almost every one of us is rich. And we’d learn limits, and learn love through our generosity. Instead of clinging to our advantages, we gave it away. We’d be happier and freer. And that’s what Jesus came to do: to free us. For it truly is better to give than to receive.

This Christmas, we’re given the gift of limits. And I don’t want to be insensitive: I know that some of us have lost our jobs. But we’re also given the opportunity to give even in tough times. And in this way, our sliding economy offers us another chance to live more closely to what Christmas is about.

Perhaps it’s my Gen X sensibilities, but I don’t trust politicians or the American political process that much. I don’t publicly endorse candidates for any office, thinking that one day they’ll let us down. And after the 2000 elections, my trust in the American political process was buried deep in the sands of the ocean bottom, where Florida’s hanging chads probably reside. Even blogging about politics isn’t my style. Though it’s true, perhaps I get overly religious when I say our best hope lies in Jesus.

Now, I’m not the type to threaten to move to Canada when our government blows it either. It’s beautiful country up there, but I do like it here. But deep down, I often felt that something was wrong with politics. Many of us did. Our leaders seemed more interested in making their names great or chasing their libido rather than caring for the welfare of their citizens. Self-indulgent earmarks made their way into budget proposals and bills. Indiscretions, either with boy pages or high-class prostitutes, gave the media something to profit from. It was hard to think that we’re in good hands.

But Tuesday has given me a glimmer of hope . . . though in a different way than you might think.

It’s not because of who got elected. I still don’t trust politicians much. But my heart swells — well, as much as an Xer will allow — when I think about our political process. On Tuesday, we mandated a radical shift in the direction of our country, domestically and internationally. And no matter how you feel about that change, change did happen and we did it without violence or bloodshed. Historically and in the light of current events, that’s just plain rare.

On top of that, in what other Western country, would the people rise up and cut through racial divides to vote for a biracial President-elect, who’s also a product of a broken home? We actually did it, and unlike in 2000, there hasn’t been any controversy about it. At least not yet. And for all of Europe’s progressiveness, they haven’t been able to do this. It really says a lot about the American people: over 115 million voted, and collectively, we empowered the leader whom we thought would best exemplify change — regardless of melanin content. Martin Luther King Jr’s dream started to ring true: we didn’t judge by the color of his skin, but by the content of his character. Yes, for the first time in a long time, I felt a little hope for America.

Sure, I already mentioned that I don’t threaten to move to Canada. But it’s probably clear that I’m not a flag-waving zealot either. Even with the little knowledge I have, I’m acutely aware of our faults as a country, and the damage we have done in the name of greater good — though it was clearly etched in self-interest. And I don’t make the mistake of equating America with the Kingdom of God. This isn’t a Christian country, no matter how much we’d like it to be.

But I am an American. And I know and pray that God can redeem all things, under heaven and on earth, even governments. And on that fateful Tuesday, the greatness of our political process shone like a brilliant jewel. No matter how people voted, it’s clear that our form of democracy has to be one of the most significant inventions of government in history to elect the person that it did. And for a minority community that had been enslaved, lynched, and discriminated against by people in this country — and the government itself — for centuries and as recently as 40 years ago, Tuesday must’ve felt like redemption. Many of their leaders placed their lives in Jesus’ hands and yet sought to make a humble, peaceful and courageous difference in their country, most apparently through the Civil Rights movement. Now, within their lifetime, their own eyes witness this country elect one of their own. And now, all Americans can call him one of our own as well.

Now I don’t claim that Obama is Jesus’ choice, though some who are less discerning may confuse between the two. But no matter how you voted on Tuesday, please keep our President-elect in your prayers. Given our current malaise, he’ll definitely need them.

I just watched Sicko last night. Whenever I watch a Michael Moore film, I get riled up. I don’t have my wife’s gift of instantly picking up on faulty logic. And now you can see why I can’t win an argument with her either. So with Moore, I get taken in. I want something to change. But then I have to remember … right, it’s Michael Moore. So I start checking the facts and counter-arguments.

Because Fahrenheit 9/11 was too biased to be helpful. And though I liked Bowling for Columbine, I was bothered to find out that the South Park-like clip in the middle was not created by Parker and Stone. The editing and animation style made it seem like they created it, and that’s just misleading. And all Michael Moore movies contain some of his antics, like taking the victims of Columbine to Target’s headquarters to get them to stop selling hollow-point ammunition. And this movie’s no different: he took 9/11 rescue workers who couldn’t get health care to Guantanamo Bay, because the navy had set up a 24-hour health clinic for the detainees. Sure, he’s getting his point across and doing some good, but you can’t help but feel like he’s using the victims too.

But all that being said, I can’t seem to find the fact checkers on this particular movie. Moorewatch.com — the site that’s “watching Michael Moore’s every move” — was preoccupied in the petty explanation of what Moore did and didn’t do in saving the site. (In Sicko, he’d given $12,000 to the site’s owner to help with health care bills for his wife.) The stuff I do find points out that the health care systems of Canada, Britain, France and Cuba are not all that Moore has made them out to be.

But that’s beside the point. Moore’s making a strong case that health care in our country is in shambles. He offers us stories of people who’ve been burned by our health care system, and have lost something truly valuable — whether it’s a finger they couldn’t afford to reattach or a loved one. And sure, the health care system works for those with loads of cash, but a country should be judged by how we treat the underprivileged. That’s how God would judge — Old Testament and New.

Which leads me to the point of this post: why can’t we have free, universal health care in this country? We are the only Western country without it. The critics say that lines will lengthen like wrinkles in a tanning bed, doctor’s salaries will plummet, the quality of health care will suffer, and we’ll be mired in administration. But the other Western countries seem to do just fine. Even with their problems, it’s our country that’s showing up lower on infant mortality rates and longevity.

We don’t turn a student away from an elementary school education because he can’t afford it. We don’t let a house burn down because the tenants can’t afford to pay the firefighters. And we expect the police to defend the rights of the rich and the poor equally — though they’re definitely working out the kinks. But we allow sick people to be turned away from hospitals and quality care because they can’t pay. The people who need the care most find themselves unable to get it. This just seems outrageous in the wealthiest country in the world.

Honestly, it bothers me because it hits close to home. My in-laws are sick. My mother-in-law has diabetes and cirrhosis of the liver. My father-in-law has had open-heart surgery, and is now in laying in a hospital bed in Korea, testing the rest of his body to see if the cancer they found in his intestines has spread. Neither have health insurance: they can’t get any because of their pre-existing conditions. And they’re too young for Medicare or Medi-Cal. So they have to resort to county hospitals and free health clinics — and they often choose not to go because they can’t stand to wait six hours. So I might be a bit selfish in my rant. But the 47 million Americans who don’t have health care likely have relatives who care about them too.

It’s not news to say that we need health care reform. I’d just like this issue to be on the front-burner of the upcoming elections. If we’re to care for the least of these, it seems that addressing our health care system should be something our country should make a priority, and try their best to get it right. (I know there are some government-haters out there that think that we should only have loving individual efforts to help people out, and sure, I don’t want anything bloated and inefficient either. But there are some things that should be in the hands of the government: common goods like public education, infrastructure, law enforcement, public services, etc. In private hands, someone always gets neglected.)

If we truly believe that each person is made in God’s image, shouldn’t they be treated as such? Access to adequate health care shouldn’t be based on the thickness of their wallets, but merely because they breathe and bleed.

I’m done ranting. What can we do about this?

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Update: Thanks, Danny. Check out this Frontline special on the healthcare systems of Britain, Japan, Germany, Taiwan and Switzerland. I found it helpful in exploring the different ways each country has attempted to care for its citizens.

A good friend found this fun article in the latest issue of Fast Company. It’s titled, “The Napkin Sketch,” and talks about how large corporations — such as Wal-Mart, Microsoft, Infosys, and Peet’s Coffee and Tea — are using napkin sketches to communicate large, complex ideas. Sound familiar?

Obviously, I’m excited because of its implications for The Big Story. Isn’t this what we’re trying to do: to take something large and complex like the Kingdom of God, and make it accessible without oversimplifying? As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. . . .

It’s refreshing to see the record participation of voters during the primaries. It gives this oft-cynical Xer slightly more hope for the country, as people care and weigh in to choose the next president. It makes me wish that I lived in a state that had caucuses, to hear a healthy back-and-forth about candidates and to cast a vote within this spontaneous community. (MSNBC did an audio slide show of a Washington state Democratic Party caucus that was held at my old middle school.)

Though I’d like to (and often did) endorse a candidate publicly, I won’t anymore. I do have a preference, and I did vote. But I’m inspired by the likes of William Wilberforce (who never joined a political party) or Martin Luther King Jr. (who never endorsed a candidate). They stood in the prophetic tradition, avoiding the endorsement of a party or candidate, but always calling these parties and candidates to a higher standard. It was a corrective voice that stayed away from the halls of power, and instead wore camel hair clothes and a leather belt.

Jim Wallis is doing the same thing today.

I went to see him speak a few days ago at the San Diego Hall of Champions. He was introduced as “the evangelical that I can stand the most” by the president of the Catfish Club. And Wallis spoke to a mixed crowd including liberals, evangelicals, the “spiritual but not religious,” and I’m sure many more shades of spirituality.

He said that America has a deep hunger for a connection between spirituality and social justice. That just makes sense. He doesn’t believe that politicians are our hope, because they were voted in by the majority. And the majority doesn’t have to change, because they’re in power. Instead, he said that any lasting change in this culture didn’t happen through Washington politics, but through social movements. And these social movements, according to Wallis, were almost always led by people of faith.

He received a standing ovation.

He makes evangelicals look good. I saw him on the Daily Show, and comment after comment on the website exclaim what a breath of fresh air he is to this country and culture. In the end, he’s making Christianity sound a little better to a culture that finds our faith’s taste a bit bitter, and that might encourage more people to bet their lives on the leadership of its founder.

In this way, isn’t Jim Wallis a new kind of evangelist? He helps people see that faith and politics could and should mix, but it could mix in a humbler, more prophetic way. Instead of seeking the interests of a minority, he seeks the common good. And as I wrote before, he and his organization, Sojourners, do not endorse a candidate. For no matter who’s in power, they always want to be on the outside — yet always speaking in.

* * * * * * *

By the way, I highly recommend his book God’s Politics. If I could find a candidate that held these positions, then he or she would get my vote every time. But that person doesn’t exist. You can read my review here.

Okay, this entry may signal the beginning of this blog’s sharp decline….

But I just finished watching The Bourne Ultimatum, and it was amazing. It’s a smart, taut espionage movie in a great series, and I’m a sucker for spy movies. (Did you all know that I was named after James Bond? No joke, ask my dad.)

This movie completes a solid trilogy, which is rare among movies. I know I start this conversation often, but I’m interested in what others think is a great trilogy as well. To be a great trilogy, each movie in the trilogy has to be good: one misstep disqualifies the entire series. So X-Men, Spiderman and the Godfather is out (because of the last movie), and of course, the Matrix it out (because of all the sequels).

Another solid trilogy I could think of was The Lord of the Rings, but that’s almost unfair, because the entire trilogy was made at the same time. The Star Wars series could come close (if you count episodes IV to VI). But after that, my mind goes blank.

Any others out there?

I love a good spectacle. So now that Black Friday’s come around, I really want to go. At midnight. It seems that would be the best time for viewing. Perhaps I could find a tram or something to get a closer look: I’d get to see ravenous consumers roaming the mall from store to store, combing through the merchandise to find their bleeding prey. Or at least, a great deal. It’s like we’ve regressed back to being hunter-gatherers, but instead of finding berries and venison, we’re foraging for XBOX’s and blouses.

Black Friday is a weird day. It sounds ominous, like the Black Plague or something. When did this all begin? Here’s the account according to Wikipedia:

Although Black Friday, as the first shopping day after Thanksgiving, has served as the unofficial beginning of the Christmas season at least since the start of the modern Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in 1924, the term “Black Friday” has been traced back only to the 1970s. “Black Friday” was originally so named because of the heavy traffic on that day, although most contemporary uses of the term refer instead to it as the beginning of the period in which retailers are in the black.

It’s one of those oddities in the calendar: like Halloween before All Saints Day or Mardi Gras before Easter. These holidays operate like yin and yang. I guess it would have to happen to Thanksgiving. Right after we thank God for everything we have and feel content and full, we then wake up at the crack of dawn to buy something more. It’s like we just forget what happened the day before, and remind ourselves yet again of everything we don’t have or wish we had or needed more of.

The Scriptures call us to be “content in any and every situation.” But it’s hard when that flat screen TV is 50% off. Or when a giant size iPhone beckons us in from it’s crystal perch. (It’s no accident that the Apple logo has a bite taken out of it — not-so-subtly hinting at what happened in Eden, isn’t it?) It says, “I know you want me,” and blows a seductive kiss in our direction. And we feel the need again. Though our bellies hang with cranberry sauce, we need to feel full again. And isn’t it good for the economy anyway? Want and spend — isn’t that the American way of life?

Why not extend Thanksgiving for a few more days, at least through the weekend? What if we let Christmas and its shopping hold off for a while? It’s red-tag sales will still be there, and the shopping won’t go away. But for now, enjoy the family, count your blessings, and be full for a little bit.

I guess I’ll miss the spectacle again this year. Too bad: Best Buy had this 32″ LCD for under… never mind.

Jinhee and I were on top of our bed covers, staring up at the popcorn-stucco ceiling. We held each other, and said nothing. We were trying unsuccessfully to make sense of it all: 33 murdered at Virginia Tech. We mourned and prayed for the victims families and friends — and for the campus.

The ones who need something to blame are already starting to point fingers: why didn’t the school administration lock down the campus right away? Isn’t this what happens if we don’t have stricter gun control laws? Or, isn’t this what happens when students cannot arm themselves in self-defense? Doesn’t this happen when we let too many foreigners into the country? It’s such a human instinct to blame something — anything — when crap not only hits the fan but also punches us in the face.

The incident feels close and personal to Jinhee and me. We both work in the university context, and have a great love for college students. We also sulk with our heads a little lower for another reason: the gunman was Korean American. For us, it makes sense to us why we haven’t heard from his parents, who would feel the most shame for bringing someone like that into the world. It’s probably not their fault, but in their minds, what their son did reflects on them. We fully understand why a president of a nation on the other side of the world would issue a statement of shock, sorrow and sympathy. We Koreans are a collective, and one student’s actions on that fateful Monday somehow stains us all.

In seeing something like this, I have to pull up an old-school word to describe it: evil. Frankly, it’s not the way things are supposed to be. The university is supposed to be a place of ideals, of visions, of inquiry, of what could be. Students’ eyes are supposed to grow bright at the thought of dreams, untainted by the wear-and-tear of a world that doesn’t seem to budge. But two days ago, we lost something. At Columbine eight years ago, our children had their innocence stolen. On 9/11, our country lost its security and bravado, and entered into a world of fear. And yesterday at Virginia Tech, we lost our dreams. A place of learning transformed into a site of bloodshed, and I wonder if there’s anything left that’s sacred. It’s in this place, where we’ve lost so much, that it’s tempting to blame.

Oddly, another story of the week is relevant here. Imus, a radio shock jock, lost his job after calling the Rutgers women’s basketball team, “nappy-headed ho’s.” While civil rights leaders called for his head on a platter, the team showed great dignity and accepted his apologies. They didn’t even demand his dismissal. Whereas Cho blamed all who might listen, saying “you forced me into a corner and gave me only one option,” the Rutgers team forgave.

They stopped the cycle of blame — and its potential evil — cold in its tracks and began a cycle of freedom and forgiveness, one that was started near the height of the Roman Empire by a Jewish stonemason and carries right up to the present. He didn’t blame, but instead absorbed the evil, even to a humiliating death on a cross. One of his last words was, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” To twist an old saying, to blame is human, but to forgive, divine. The Rutgers team may not actually be divine, but they did show some class.

Getting back to Cho: not only is he Korean, but he’s also a human being, a part — whether we like it or not — of the collective. Koreans are feeling shame, but as human beings, shouldn’t we all? We thankfully don’t go to his extremes, but this same evil lurks in all of us and has often played itself out on the stage of history. Our time on the planet is littered with periods where ordinary citizens did despicably cruel things. This shooting adds even more to the growing pile of evil that stinks to heaven. Father, forgive us, for we do not know what we do.

Jinhee and I are still mourning. It may take us a bit. I just read another article about Virginia Tech with tears welling up in my eyes. And Jinhee, as a TA, gets a little nervous about crossing students these days. But if there’s hope out there in a world full of great evil, I can’t help but think that it’s in forgiveness.

Remember the Emergency Broadcast System? When I was a kid, that eerie, creepy sound sent chills up and down my spine. We wondered if someone in the Kremlin pushed the button, and if we were all going to have to fight radiation-enlarged cockroaches for the last scraps of food on the blistered planet. All until that deep baritone kicked in, saying, “this is only a test….”

We were all afraid of nuclear war back then. It was the early 80′s, and the arms race was out of control. We ran bomb drills in school, and television mini-series like “The Day After” gave us fuel for a month’s worth of nightmares. And that creepy sound. Little did we know that a quarter of a century later, our most realistic threat to a worldwide meltdown wouldn’t come from nukes from the other side of the Iron Curtain. No, the meltdown is coming from our own backyards.

Yesterday, the New York Times published an article saying that an international network of leading climate scientists proved that human activity has caused most of the rise in global temperatures since 1950. As a result, more extreme heat waves and hurricanes are likely. Another Katrina likely. We’re crapping on the planet, and it’s fighting back.

The same article states that the United States, though only 5 percent of the world’s population, contributes 25 percent of the greenhouse gases that cause global warming. We’re the single largest emitter of carbon dioxide from the burning of fossil fuels. See, we didn’t need the Soviets to blow up the planet together; we’re doing just fine on our own.

Sure, we can point the finger at China — #2 greenhouse gas provider — or India, who’s also in the Top Ten. We could let that keep us from signing any kind of environmental treaty. But can’t we just leave the “that’s-not-fair-Johnny-gets-to-do-it” mentality on the playground, and take real leadership here? Didn’t Michael Jackson once sing, “If you want to make the world, a better place, take a look at yourself and make that change?” And it’s just plain sad that you don’t hear that kind of wisdom from the Gloved One anymore.

More importantly, in all of this, I can’t help but think we all — governments, corporations and individuals — are grieving God. The first job he ever gave humankind was to “work [the Garden] and take care of it.” We’re supposed to take care of this great, round, blue work of art we call Earth. As we take care of her, she’ll take care of us — that’s how it was all designed. But we’ve raped her, drained her of precious resources, filled her skies with pollutants, killed her inhabitants to extinction. And — ding! — the Earth has come out of her corner, swinging harder than Ali. Watch out: her hurricanes float faster than a butterfly and her heat waves sting harder than a bee.

Can’t we just get along? America: consume less, recycle, plant trees, bike, research, seek alternative fuels, carpool, ratify Kyoto, vote — do whatever it takes to care of the planet. Because if we take care of her, she’ll take care of us. And we’ll get a chance to honor the Great Artist too.

BANGKOK, Thailand — For the past month, I lived in a kingdom. And there, they revere their king. Not Elvis, but rather the King of Thailand. At every movie theater or sporting event, the King’s song is played and everyone stands in respect. It’s hard to pass a street corner without seeing a picture of the King next to his royal symbol. To celebrate the 60th anniversary of his reign — the world’s longest reigning monarch — almost everyone wears yellow every Monday, celebrating the day of his birth. In fact, stepping on a coin, which bears the royal visage, will likely get you kicked off the bus. The Thai people revere their King.

Seriously, he deserves some honor: King Bhumibol Adulyadej really looks out for his people, and has governed with their best interest in mind. He’s credited for helping Thailand’s transition to democracy. When he noticed the increasing debt of his citizens, he called them to a lifestyle of moderation. (When our country went into crisis after 9/11, however, our president called it a patriotic duty to go shopping.) Some Thai even consider him semi-divine, perhaps for good reason: he invented a way to seed clouds to produce rain. A few months ago, he received the first ever United Nations Human Development Lifetime Achievement Award. I think he’s cool because he plays and composes jazz. Swing it, cat!

Back in 1946, his older brother, then king, was found shot and dead in his bedroom. At the time, Bhumibol was finishing his studies in Switzerland. He came back to Thailand and acceded to the throne, but then went back to Switzerland to finish his studies. When he was done in 1950, he was coronated king. For those four years in between, no one doubted that Bhumibol would be king. In some sense, he was already the king, but not yet.

I’m reminded of another King. As good as the King of Thailand is, this King is even better. He walked the earth not in 1946 but about two millennia ago, and proclaimed that he was indeed a king. In some sense, he is already King. But not back in 1950. One day in the future, he will be coronated King and everyone will recognize his rightful place on the throne. And His Kingdom won’t be just in Southeast Asia but over the entire world.

Yet we find ourselves in the years in between. In the meantime, our allegiances will be sorely tested. Will we serve the King, who is and is to come? Will we serve greed, profit, materialism and selfish ambition? Or will we serve ourselves? In the end, if we don’t want to be found seditious, it may be good to ally with the Kingdom come.

I’ve been unable to sleep well these days. So after about 15 minutes, if I’m not asleep, I wander back to the living room and start surfing channels. Sometimes, the remote takes me to FOX news — and like a bad car accident, I have to linger and catch a glimpse.

As I watched, a commentator said that he wasn’t a racist, but that he could tell the truth because he’s not a politician. The truth? All illegal immigrants should be sent back to Mexico, he said, because it’s the law. But I just wonder if he uses that same logic with the speed limit or jaywalking on himself. Now, that’s a little unfair, right? I mean, he could be a boy scout in an commentator’s suit — but it’s funny how we call for the law when it lines up with our values and yet cry “foul” when it doesn’t.

Last December, the House of Representatives passed a bill — by a vote of 239 to 182 — to make felons out of 12 million illegal immigrants, and make it a felony to help or hire one. The Senate has softened the language, dropping the felony provisions back in March. The debate rages on, as Senators and Representatives tweak the bill for its vote next week. So it’s clear that the law changes, so how can we merely invoke the law as an ultimate authority without thinking, feeling and praying more deeply about the impact it will have on this country. Is it a felony to help our neighbor?

If I’m invoking authorities, let’s talk about Jesus. When summing up the Law, he said, “‘Love the Lord your God will all of your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” Does that include Mexico? It seemed to include Samaria, the hated half-Jews, half-Assyrians of the time. Even in the Law, God said repeatedly, “Do not mistreat an alien or oppress him, for you were aliens in Egypt.” They were to remember their past. Weren’t we Americans aliens once, when we came over on the Mayflower and resided in a land that wasn’t ours?

Now, I’m not informed enough — nor naive enough — to suggest a policy. But perhaps one that cares for our neighbor and doesn’t mistreat the alien would be a good first step.