The fire burns warm in the almost pot-belly stove. The bench near by- vacated. Lon reads the Funnies in a suit and tie, jacket removed, and cuffs rolled up. Last night I interviewed John Chesley on that bench. He sat awkwardly before my camera, revealing his inner feelings and telling stories of his relationship with Jackie Monson that brought him to this day- the red dot blinking- to the day of his marriage.

Now, the marriage is nearly done, only the reception remains. The lunch was exquisite. The mood divine. The sealer stumbly, yet accurate and spiritual. At the end of the ceremony, they were asked to rise, the bride and the groom. They stood, and looked before themselves into eternity, between two mirrors. In the mirror before them, their images reflected endlessly, as it was tossed back and forth between the two. A representation of the generations without end that would come as a result of their covenants. They turned, and in the mirror behind them reflected again endlessly their images. A representation of those who had come before, their ancestors, Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, and all who paved the way. And in the middle, stood them, two children in adult clothing, a beautiful gown and handsome suit. Children.

Yet children of God. Their potential roared as the silence around them listened.

Wealth disparity, flat, or even regressive taxes, seem to be commonly supported by many of the mormons, with whom I deal.

Robin Hood and his merry man now march on France and much of Europe. Germany approves. And Italy is already implementing.

"A tiny levy on trades in the financial markets that would take money from the banks and give it to the world’s poor" is the proposition. They call it the Robin Hood tax.

The 99 percent continue to protest in cities across America. A third of our nations wealth is still held by the 1 percent.

The Obama administration remains reluctant to support such a tax however for fear that it will drive away business.

My question here is- in times of such inequality and disparity, how can we as Christians support such a thing as wealth inequality?

I have no grand political arguments. I'm not a mastermind economist and I don't pretend to understand theoretic mathematical concepts. I offer no persuading numbers.

All I say is this-

 There is a closed door.
A person comes and opens that door.
The person walks through.

In this simple example, are we to imagine that the only person involved in opening that door was the person that did the deed of opening?

Nay.

Surely the carpenter who crafted the door should have some credit, for without him there would be no door to be opened. And the custodian? did he not make sure the hinges were properly greased so as to be easily opened? And who told the person the location of the door? Should we imagine that they found it all by themselves? And what of that persons parents? Did they not raise them, and nourish them to be strong enough to open the door? Did they not teach them how to turn the knob and get on through?

And so it is with money. It is narrow minded and foolish to say that I have all of my money because of myself and all of my hard work.

Now I'm not talking about welfare, and government handouts, and such nonsense systems that stunt the growth of a countries citizens. And I realize that mormons are one of the top donating demographics for philanthropies and such.

But what I'm getting at is that we should not assume that what is ours is really ours. We should get through that door and say -Ahha! I made it- and close the door on all the other people behind you. To do so would be ungrateful and, in our terms faithless.

I try to remember that we're all in this together and that not a penny of mine is a penny of mine.

Pomegranate Sorbet

I created pomegranate sorbet. Two fresh pomegranates. Hand sqoozed. One half of a lemon. Hand squozen. Pure cane sugar. Frigid water. Mixed all into the White Mountain ice cream freezer. Meredith, the Goddess of my heart, stirred. I, the master of my heart, churned. More ice was added. Post beef wellington, thinly sliced potatoes toasted crispy, and pleasantly sauteed green beans, we enjoyed the paleteous sensations of fresh pomegranate and lemon frozen goodness. It was aromatic. It was sweet, powerful, strong. It was nearly unbelievable. It was choice. 

Someone may have toppled over upon tasting the art of its confection, I, however, did not. I smiled blissfully, fully aware of the loved ones around me that shared its joy with me. 

And then we were off to the Yule Ball.