Rex M Rogers - Discerning What Is Best

Discerning What Is Best
with Dr. Rex M. Rogers

Details: Written by: Rex M. Rogers; Published: 18 May 2011

I lifted weights, fairly seriously I might add, throughout my high school experience and for a while into college. I enjoyed the activity and the sport. I read weightlifting and bodybuilding magazines, learned about fitness, and followed the careers of the sport's heroes. There was none bigger, in more ways than one, than Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Arnold was not a weightlifter per se but a bodybuilder. He lifted to develop his fitness and physique, and he won every bodybuilding title worth winning, including Mr. Olympia and Mr. Universe—several times. His over-sized but perfectly proportioned body was a wonder, as were the circumference of his biceps.

It was fun to read about his bodybuilding efforts, and it was even more fun when he relocated to America from his native Austria and produced one of the first notable bodybuilding-weightlifting-fitness films, “Pumping Iron.” Then came the movie career, the amusing if forgettable “Conan” films, assorted others including the silly comedy “Twins” with Danny DeVito and the enjoyable dramedy “Kindergarten Cop.” About the time a lot of people wrote Arnold off as a terminal B-movie actor he introduced a different kind of terminal: the global blockbuster known as the “Terminator” films. Arnold had proved them all wrong.

Clearly Arnold Schwarzenegger wasn’t just another muscle-bound dumb guy. He made it in a challenging industry, becoming box office gold in the process. He became one of those people immediately recognizable simply by their first name. He was just “Arnold,” known as widely in Japan as in the States.

Marrying Maria Shriver was a surprise. Now Arnold really seemed to have made it. He became an adopted son, so to speak, in the Kennedy family. The American political dynasty, Democrat no less, somehow made room for this huge Republican. Needless to say this only added to Arnold’s mystique, his brand.

Fast-forward twenty-five years: an apparently good marriage, the successful movie career, four children with Maria, and a term as California Governor. Good stuff to say the least. Then last week the Schwarzeneggers announce their separation. Say what? Why? It wasn’t long in coming. A few days later Arnold admits to having had an affair more than a decade ago with a household staff member, fathering a child. Making matters worse, he apparently conducted the affair at about the same time Maria was pregnant with their fourth child. Making it worse still, unless Maria knows more than she’s let on, Arnold somehow kept the affair and the child secret until last week. But, truth finally trumped the Terminator. Maria walked out. Now rumors are surfacing the marriage has been in trouble for years.

No one, me included, ever thought of Arnold as a saint. He was known early on as a womanizer. Just before he entered the Governor’s mansion he was accused of “groping” women and Maria had to defend him. No, we knew Arnold, as he put it in 2003, was capable of “behaving badly sometimes.” But we never suspected he was capable of lying to his spouse for more than a decade. Or that he was living a lie before the American public.

To my knowledge, Arnold has never made any pretense to religion. He is who he is. But herein is the disappointment. He is who he is, which means he is not who he claimed that he is. We thought he’d grown up. We thought he’d put his womanizing past in the past. We thought he was a smart fellow, which he is, but he wasn’t smart enough to make right choices or simply to do right by the spouse and the children with which he has been so richly blessed.

So Arnold isn’t much of a hero after all. He’s just another one of those guys who selfishly puts his own desires ahead of all others. He’s another one of those political leaders who, in the end, lacks character, not only marital fidelity but honesty. He is, ironically, a lot like several of the Kennedy men.

Arnold’s life isn’t over. He can make amends and rebound. But will he? I don’t know, and given that he’s one of the sports and entertainment figures I considered interesting, I find it all quite sad.

Arnold is just a man, not a machine, but because he is, there is hope. I trust that somehow in all this, through some friend perhaps, Arnold will discover the God of second chances, who expects sincere repentance, and who then forgives, heals, and reconciles. It would be a powerful story if the Terminator discovered his potential and his legacy don’t have to terminate here.

*This blog may be reproduced in whole or in part with a full attribution statement. Contact Rex or read more commentary on current issues and events at www.rexmrogers.com or follow him at www.twitter.com/RexMRogers.

Details: Written by: Rex M. Rogers; Published: 14 May 2011

Probably every generation thinks the athletes they’ve witnessed are the greatest. I can’t attest for ancient Greece, but I imagine they were proud of their Olympians.

And I can remember my Grandpa Davis talking about Satchel Paige, Babe Ruth, Jim Thorpe, and Y.A. Tittle. Who could argue these athletes weren’t “great”?

But the thought struck me not long ago—actually in March while on a jet winging across the Atlantic—that I have been privileged to witness, to actually see perform, some of the reputedly greatest athletes of all time. Here’s my hall of fame list:

--Jim Brown. Being a kid from Ohio and having watched Brown run as a Cleveland Brown in the early 1960s when I was in junior high, no one will ever convince me there was or is a better, greater running back in the National Football League. I know he’s had a couple of dust-ups along the way, but I also enjoyed his short acting career, particularly “The Dirty Dozen” and “100 Rifles.” And I’ve admired his work with inner city youth.

--Muhammad Ali. “The Greatest.” Ali was at his peak when I was in college. After bursting to prominence in his second victory over Sonny Liston in 1965, a knock-out at 2:12 in the First Round, he went on to become boxing’s best ever, a cultural force, and a worldwide celebrity. His record was 56-5. One of those losses came from Joe Frazier in 1971 when I was a college freshman. It was billed as “The Fight of the Century.” Frazier fought Ali twice more, losing both, 1974 when I was a senior, and 1975, the last being “The Thrilla in Manilla.” Unbelievable fights. Then there was big George Foreman in 1974, “The Rumble in the Jungle.” In a matter of ten months Ali beat Frazier and Foreman. Incredible. There is not now and I don’t think ever will be a fighter like Ali. “The Mouth” is quiet now due to Parkinson’s syndrome, but he is still a force of nature.

--Pete Rose. I watched “Charlie Hustle” throughout my youth. So it’s especially sad for me today to think about how he botched his reputation and legacy gambling on games in which he managed. It’s particularly ironic in that I grew up to write a no-gambling book. Rose is Exhibit #1 for what gambling can do to a life. But Rose is still the greatest hitter ever to play baseball, 4,256 hits. He gambled away Cooperstown but he still makes my hall of fame.

--Secretariat. Yes, a horse. And what a horse, and an athlete in every sense of the term. In 1973 when I was in college Secretariat became the first horse in 25 years to win racing’s Triple Crown. His records at the Kentucky Derby and the Belmont Stakes still stand, the latter of which he won by 31 lengths. Secretariat went to his reward in 1989 and it’s improbable we’ll see his like again in the next one hundred years.

--Lance Armstrong. Road racing cyclist’s greatest, Armstrong won the Tour de France 7 times in a row, 1999 to 2005. This feat may be approached, but I doubt it will ever be bettered. Armstrong, though not the most likeable person and a rather testy agnostic, is nevertheless a cancer survivor, tireless worker on behalf of his foundation, and hero of those who acknowledge resolve. He is known to possess an exceptionally large heart, which is the source of his incredible energy. This is a trait he shares with Secretariat, which during autopsy was discovered to have a heart two and one-half times the size of an average horse. Amazing.

--Michael Jordan. I’m not a big basketball fan, but who can ignore “Air Jordan”? Kids today know him more for Nike and Hanes underwear commercials than for basketball, but Jordan’s 6 NBA championships, 5 MVP awards, and 14 All-Star appearances, and much more, set a standard few have emulated. Maybe more than his skill and winning, or certainly along with them, he stood out because he so obviously loved the game and gave it every hang-time moment he could.

--Tiger Woods. No one at this point, not even Woods, knows whether his career is at its zenith. But to give him his due, he was and in large measure still is, the gold standard of golf greatness—not in majors won, that belongs to the Golden Bear Jack Nicklaus—not in crowd appeal, that belongs to Arnold Palmer and his Army or maybe to Phil Mickelson—but in technique, skill, hitting a ball like no one else. That's Tiger. I hope he gets his life on course and hits some more great shots.

There’s more “Great Ones” among sports figures, of course--these are all men, so a women's hall of fame is yet to come. But these will do for my hall of fame short-list for now. I’ve been privileged to watch them all.

Details: Written by: Rex M. Rogers; Published: 13 May 2011

Let me begin by saying I consider Tiger Woods the greatest golfer I’ve ever seen and likely ever will see play. Technically, when he was “on” for a good ten-year run, his golf skills were truly phenomenal. He's yet to demonstrate he can catch Jack Nicklaus's professional golfers' best record, but Tiger's skills are without question the best ever witnessed.

Second, let me say that I don’t generally root against Tiger. I do often root for others, so it depends upon how you look at it. The point is, I get no personal jollies when Tiger falters.

Third, I think his fall from grace was, in a word, remarkable. In a matter of a few hours, certainly a few days, he toppled—no, he plummeted—from the pinnacle of worldwide sports and endorsement capacity to a place somewhere very low in the public’s estimation. It still strikes me as rather amazing, especially given the fact that his transgressions involved sexual escapades that are: a) quite common among celebrities, b) behaviors in which many in the general population indulge. Still, he hit some kind of bottom, real fast, and his game if not his life has yet to recover. Clearly, he needs to get back on course—pun intended and in more ways than one.

So, I don’t claim any self-righteous right to condemn Tiger or use him as an example of all things unholy. I now just think he and his saga are sad.

But the man is only 35 years old. He’s still physically capable of being the world’s greatest golfer, and as long as he breathes he still has a chance to turn things around in his life spiritually, socially, and more.

So here’s my recommendation on “How Tiger Woods Can Reboot His Life.” I sincerely wish and pray him well.

Details: Written by: Rex M. Rogers; Published: 11 May 2011

To my recollection, I’ve never publicly spoken the four-letter word beginning the title of this piece. I’ve always considered it a crude, unnecessary word, one that refers to things better described, if one must, in more polite and sophisticated terminology. Yet here it is in mainstream media.

The saga begins in January when a Toronto police constable named Michael Sanguinetti told a York University security class “Women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized." While Sanguinetti later apologized for his comments his mea culpa was not enough for individuals who considered his statement indicative of deeper attitudinal problems in the police force.

On April 3, 2011, organizers in Toronto put together the first “Slut Walk” to protest what they considered blatantly chauvinistic police attitudes toward female sexual assault victims, which they felt perpetuated a “culture of rape.” Their concern is that insofar as such attitudes exist they shift responsibility for crimes like rape from the male assailants to the female innocents, i.e., “blaming the woman.”

Since this time, several other “SlutWalks”—now one word—have been organized in cities like Boston, Asheville, Dallas, Hartford, Rochester, San Francisco, along with plans for Seattle, other US cities, and cities in Europe, Asia, and Australia. Facebook hosts several related sites, and Toronto SlutWalk has its own website.

Some signage at slutwalks feature comments too graphic to write here. Some say things like, “I’m a slut and proud of it,” or “I’m a slut. Don’t rape me,” and so it goes. Some marchers have dressed in “provocative” clothing, or actually very little clothing. Organizers say the walks are about bringing attention to “slut-shaming,” meaning blaming women for sex crimes. Or organizers say the walks are about “empowerment.”

So what are we to make of this movement? Several thoughts come to mind:

--Anything a man says about women’s clothing or sexuality immediately opens him to charges of inappropriate thoughts or ignorance, as in he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Such is the danger even in this blog. But where does this perspective leave conscientious fathers or for that matter any responsible moral male members of society?

--The police officer’s comment was crude, ill advised, and possibly indicative of a less than caring attitude about female sexual assault victims. On the other hand, one could say his comments, though coarse or tasteless, represented a degree of common sense, that is, that women should be aware of and take some responsibility for their own security—even though it’s certainly true that male perpetrators of sex crimes are the criminals in this equation.

A small analogy might be: if I leave my car unlocked yet loaded with technology like laptops and I am robbed, am I the victim? Yes I am. Is the thief responsible? Yes he is. Was I wise or did I use common sense? No I did not.

--Women are innocent victims of more sexual assault or other unwanted and inappropriate sexual advances (no matter what they're wearing) than we generally imagine. It happens every day, and it happens up and down across society, worldwide, in every culture including our own. The organizers of SlutWalks, the marchers, and others offended by the officer’s comment are not “making up” the problem of sexually related offenses and crimes affecting women.

--“Movements” like SlutWalks may have at least some point, but often such movements get over-taken by multiple agendas. In this case, asking questions about how sexual assault victims are really treated is a worthy endeavor. But the walks have also been the scene of flaunted immoral values and behaviors, a means for advancing LGBT political and legal homosexuality agendas, and a crude, even raunchy, expression of what feminism at its best was supposed to be.

--It strikes me that while the officer’s comment was needlessly and maybe unprofessionally smutty, so is the choice of name and motif of SlutWalks. I don’t like or can’t see myself involved in supporting either effort, even though I think the officer had a point to make and the slutwalks have some point to make. The officer’s comment was a long way from the Christian man of Proverbs 1-9 and the slutwalks are a long way from the Christian woman of Proverbs 31.

--From a Christian perspective, it seems to me there are many ways one can address a very real problem of sex crimes, human trafficking, and pornography in society. One of them is via groups like Women At Risk, International. I’d much rather recommend WAR, International than SlutWalks.

Details: Written by: Ruth Thomas; Published: 07 May 2011

My Mother taught me to be a planner -- plan your meals, plan your day, don't waste time. She forgot to give me those genes that would make me enjoy cleaning out closets, however.

Details: Written by: Rex M. Rogers; Published: 07 May 2011

Mother’s Day is soon upon us. It comes but once a year. But Mothers, blessedly good ones and unfortunately not-so-good ones as well, stay with us every day for the rest of our lives, whether or not we always recognize the influence.

There’s the obvious: our DNA and some measure of our looks and stature and all else physical. There’re the subtle but far-reaching influences: our personalities, attitudes, likes and dislikes and preferences, tastes in food and clothes and music, and maybe the sound and style of our laugh, generally a combination of the physical and the experiential. There are often the most profound influences: our values, faith, and worldview, i.e., our philosophy of life.

As I said, Mothers good and not-so-good make an impact upon us. Mine was, and is, without question or fear of exaggeration the former, a good Mother in every sense of the term. She introduced me to the world (birth) and later introduced me to Christ (rebirth). She yet walks the earth and influences me, if from afar. Here are a few ways she imprinted my life:

--I don’t eat with my free arm lying across the table. I can’t, though I’ve tried at times, but each time I can hear her say, “Don’t lay on the table when you eat. Sit up.” So I do.

--I read and when appropriate try to lead. I don’t know that she necessarily gave me the taste for reading. I think I came by that some other way. But she did repeatedly say to me, “Readers make leaders,” thus generally affirming my inclination to spend hours with my nose in a book.

--I try to stay faithful to “right doctrine” in terms of historic orthodox Christianity. In fact, I used to joke with the university Board where I served as a longtime president that the Board didn’t ever need to worry about me leading the school in a wrong direction theologically, because if I did I’d have to answer to my Mother first.

--I learned, and have tried to live out, appreciation for the day God’s given us. This stems from my Mother regularly reciting “This is the day which the LORD hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it,” from the King James Version, of course, because that’s the version we all used in that day.

--I don’t mind putting on “dress up” clothes. My Mother wanted us to dress well when we went to church or town, so we did. I got used to it then, so it was easy later to adopt professional standards appropriate to my positions. Meanwhile, I’ve met a lot of men who apparently never learned and can’t seem to grasp why it might be worthwhile for them to dress well when the occasion calls for it. And worse, when they do, they complain about it throughout the evening. I would likely have done this too but was groomed otherwise.

There are many more things my Mother taught me. Some more important, perhaps, than these few illustrations listed here. But the moral of the story is that I have a good reason to celebrate Mother’s Day because I was and am blessed with a good Mother. This is something I had nothing to do with crafting, an outright blessing from God. So, praise the Lord and thanks to a good Mom.

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