aramgorn

Just finished reading...

2012-01-25T14:54:00.000-08:00

Before I read it I thought the title referred to those in a society who are ostracized, lacking possession of either dignity or basic subsistence. But it's actually about a society that rejects possession as necessary.

It's about work, initiative - not as performance but as pure compulsion.

It's about confronting customs, disregarding laws, walking through walls.

It's about home, flight, empty-handedness.

It's about solitude and solidarity.

It's about partnership, its pains and pleasures.

It's about individuality and interval, relativity and return.

At first it seems to be about thinking about the world from a perspective that expects that other worlds exist, or at least acknowledging other realities.

But then it becomes something different, about perceiving time (the span of a day, a moment, the gap between birth and death) and perceiving space (the thing our bodies occupy, push against, evade, retreat from, return to) neither as confines to be broken or resources to be used, but as realities to be both questioned and engaged.

It's about risking death and risking disapproval, the latter being the more difficult of the two.

I definitely recommend it, but leave it to you, if any of these themes so compel you, to decide whether or not to read it.

Multivocality

2011-12-23T21:08:00.000-08:00

And you should not let yourself be confused in your solitude by the fact that there is some thing in you that wants to move out of it. This very wish, if you use it calmly and prudently and like a tool, will help you spread out your solitude over a great distance…

We know little, but that we must trust in what is difficult is a certainty that will never abandon us; it is good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult; that something is difficult must be one more reason for us to do it.

It is also good to love: because love is difficult. For one human being to love another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us, the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation…

Loving does not at first mean merging, surrendering, and uniting with another person (for what would a union be of two people who are unclarified, unfinished, and still incoherent?), it is a high inducement for the individual to ripen, to become something… to become world…

Merging and surrendering and every kind of communion… is the ultimate, is perhaps that for which human lives are as yet barely large enough…

The love that consists in this: that two solitudes protect and border and greet each other.

{Rainer Maria Rilke}

Letters to a Young Poet #7

Merging and surrendering, ebbing and flowing, bordering and protecting, practicing boundaries and pushing boundaries – these are the tasks in the breathing-in-and-breathing-out of human relationship, of being human.

This is true internally as much as it is externally. Diana Eck muses on the traffic of voices in every person, suggesting that our recognition of multivocality is the foundation for navigating the external plurality of perspectives in the world: “Our prospects for pluralism surely begin with our ability to give voice to the diversity of voices within ourselves, not all of which we exercise at the same time, but which comprise the complex web of connections we call identity" (Diana Eck, Prospects for Pluralism, 746). The appreciation of multivocality in all of its dimensions is the primary boon from my seminary experience thus far. What follows are a few brief reflections on multivocality, diversity, and identity.

Farid Esack’s essay, In Search of Progressive Islam Beyond 9/11, begins with an ‘Ali Shari’ati quotation: “It is not sufficient to say that we must return to Islam. We must specify which Islam” (Omid Safi, Progressive Muslims, 78). Individual religions function as a sort of microcosm. Islam is in itself an array of theologies, traditions, and cultures. Jewish identity draws deeply from its multiplicity of con/texts and results in a vast variety of midrashic (expounded and expansive) manifestations. The term “Christian” is an applicable unit of cultural classification, but Christianity is in no way unitary.

Religious diversity represents and affects the reality of global pluralism. In a pluralistic world, where difference matters, a nuanced understanding of difference is the difference between perpetuating old habits of prejudice and finding our way beyond mutual misunderstanding. "To bypass the pursuit of deep diversity is to fail an elemental test of fidelity to the world (Pamela Klassen & Courtney Bender, After Pluralism, 10). Our (multi)vocation as relational citizens of the earth is to delve into diversity, and to experience the intersections and explore the divergences within.

Navigating deep diversity is foreign terrain for every one involved. Diversity is essentially and perpetually foreign. Conflict is inevitable. Conflicting interests, conflicting expressions of ideas, and conflicting vocalizations of life experience are present in every encounter. Conflicts that are too volatile to ignore erupt, thus forcefully demanding the bulk of our attention. Attending to conflict in quotidian encounters, however, helps establish an understanding that conflict is not a thing to be feared.

Conflict is a navigable aspect of human relationship, and navigating conflict is a reputable means of personal, social, and spiritual formation. It is not a thing to be feared but engaged. Yet attending to conflict without fear requires that we must cross lines of difference with ears open to other voices. Cultural fluency is a core competency for those who intervene in conflicts or simply want to function more effectively in their own lives and situations (Michele LeBaron, Culture and Conflict). Fluency takes persistent attention. “In practice many of us are not adept at thinking through the issues of voice, so strident is the push toward the unitary, the unequivocal” (Diana Eck, Prospects for Pluralism, 753). Fluency takes practice. Fluency is difficult. Ignorance is easy, but with Rilke “we must trust in what is difficult” and honor the friction that results when bodies touch.

During our wedding ceremony my wife and I read our self-crafted vows and committed to a love that consists of two solitudes that border and protect and greet each other. We were careful not to commit precisely to the brand of marital love that our inherited tradition urged, where one is absorbed into the other. We were intentional about committing to a mutual relationship that would continue to contain and catalyze the multitudes that comprise us each. And then we took Communion. This image parallels the exploration of my own inheritance and vocation that I continue to engage in. As I craft a vision of my vocation (can a call be crafted?) I am often fixated on the horizon, but I believe I ignore my roots at my own peril. My relationship with Christianity continues to be tortuous. I am not willing to be absorbed by Christianity. I am committed to evading any simple categorization. But my multitudes unambiguously intersect with Christianity’s multivocality. I push against my inheritance, but I press into its soil for sustenance all the same.

Marc Gopin insists, “Peacemaking requires… a constant moral calculus of silence and activism, pushing the envelope and maintaining relationships” (To Make the Earth Whole, 98). The many voices of the many selves in the many traditions of the multitudinous world resound and clamor. To find peace within myself does not require the repression of my particularity, nor does it require a final conversion to a fixed tradition. To realize peace in the world does not require the silencing of differing voices, nor does it require some final act of justice. Making peace/shalom/salaam is being engaged in the calculated process of active contemplation and contemplative action as we merge and surrender with one another, border and protect our common dignity, and pour over the porous boundaries that make up who we are.

Ethos

2011-11-22T13:28:00.000-08:00

When people ask me what I study they invariably put me to the task of telling them just what it is that I intend to do with a degree in religious studies once I graduate. I tell them this: I want to contribute to an ethos of religious understanding in our religiously complex and confused world.

My rote answer functions for those fragments of interaction with the people I meet from day to day. But it really isn’t sufficient in the end. It doesn’t offer much substance or nuance. It actually forces my listener to fill a rather gaping hole. They have to decide on the definition of “religious understanding”. They have to imagine what it means to respond to religious confusion. I think it’s okay, even important, to raise these sorts of questions. But as a student of religion and an advocate for peaceful engagement across religious and ideological lines of difference, the onus is on me to be more specific and to cast a concrete vision of what an ethos of religious understanding might look like.

That means that I have to do more than simply suggest that religious understanding is a possibility, something that I believe in. I have to address religious confusion head on.

The matrix of religious confusion tends to thicken wherever multiple communities are attempting to put a common resource to divergent uses. Jews and Christians, for instance, share a sacred text. This is a reality that could potentially enrich both communities, but all too often it results in either party claiming that their interpretation is authoritative. This happens between different denominations of a single religion as well. Whenever multiple parties make confident claims about a multivalent source, and when those claims don’t align, it is easier to retreat to the corners and cliques of certainty than it is to continue to engage each other across lines of difference. This blind privileging of one’s religious perspective tends to discount the validity of the religious other. The idolizing of one’s own perspective typically results from a cankerous closed-mindedness.

People suffering from closed-minds do not usually identify with their closed-minds. They identify as a sort of Christian, Muslim, atheist, humanist, Jew, Hindu, Buddhist, Sikh, animist, Pagan, or something else. Closed-minds are dispersed amongst us. Yet I really believe that authentically closed-minded people are a minority. There are Christians who claim their understanding of the Bible is the equivalent to universal truth. And there are Muslims who hold the Qur’an in similar fashion. And humanists who think that their assessment of social or scientific data is incontestable.

And you know what? I think it is important for these people, who purposefully or inadvertently glorify their view while espousing intolerance of others, to be able to openly make their claims. I think it is important for these people to bring their claims of authority into the public square, rather than retreating with them into enclaves of intolerance. They are welcome. I don’t say this because I think the world particularly needs closed-minded representatives from the many religious and ideological traditions. I say this because I think that they need people like me. And people like you. I think they need diversity. Which isn’t to say that I think they need to change their identity, or even concede their fundamentals. I think they can be distinctly themselves without keeping their minds closed to the others with whom they share the world. Encountering others is exactly what these people need. Encountering others in the world has the potential to both open their minds and amplify their identities.

In the chaotic matrix of multi-religious and trans-ideological engagement we are forced awake to the others whom we encounter. In public spaces designed for engagement and disagreement we all hone our identities, holding to those things that enable us to live ethically and creatively, while hopefully dispensing of those things that block our capacity for love and civic survival.

An ethos of religious understanding would look like an open field, wide open, even open to the closed. In the field we would explore personality, identity, and belonging without restraining any of them. We would look curiously and receptively at the others all around us. My vision of religious understanding is not about isolating or defining one religious or sacred truth over another. It is about being in open and confident relationship with others. These relationships are not a context for unilateral conversion; they are a matrix of mutual transformation and personal amplification. But this sort of thing requires that we all show up in the first place.

Buckskin Gulch

2011-11-03T01:34:00.000-07:00

Hello old friends. I was away last week traipsing through the Buckskin Gulch and on into the Paria River and along the canyon it cuts. It's good to be back home... but oh was it ever good to be away.

I cherish times of being elsewhere, just as I cherish times of being near. I think that we all have to continually create our own mini-utopias; that is, our own little "no-places" of retreat and solitude and privacy. Just as we need to engage in the solemn practice of transparency and in the frivolity of personal divulgence. We must come and we must go. We must hold and we must share. And always we must be shifting our posture, craning our neck, fluttering our eyes open to the monumental moments of momentum that tumble us through life and into each other.

I took this picture last week. It speaks to me of movement, light, spaciousness, and timelessness.

Camino

2011-10-15T19:18:00.000-07:00

I walked el Camino de Santiago a few years back. I backpack with my dad frequently (Paria Canyon in ten days). This looks like a special movie: The Way.

Photoduet

2011-08-31T14:42:00.000-07:00

My friend Andrew and I decided, since we're both super keen on toying with our cameras, to do a photo project together. For the next month or so, if you're interested in following some of my (and his) creative outlets then link over to our tumblelog: smallpostcardsbigphotos.

Our concept is simple and fluid. He lives in a small town in upstate NY. And I live in the big windy city of Chicago. Often times a small, post-card-sized image manages to convey a powerful message or emotion. Small town/Big city. Small postcards/Big photos.

We have 21 themes. We'll each post one photo a day that matches the theme for the day. We'll do this for three weeks, then gauge our enjoyment and yours to decide if we want to keep it going. We begin tomorrow, September 1st.

http://smallpostcardsbigphotos.tumblr.com/

thought samples

2011-08-12T19:29:00.000-07:00

Here are a few articles I squeezed into my day today:

One on the complexities of the "ex-gay ministries" that are championed in some conservative Christian circles.

One by my man Zizek with a pretty excellent paraphrase of Ephesians 6:12 included.

A brief one (as it were, by the man who more or less introduced me to the depths of Zizekian thought) challenging radical theologians to be unafraid of tapping into biblical texts and making constructive claims.

And a follow up on the Wild Goose Festival, which I mentioned in my June 3rd post. What's the difference between having a "welcoming" posture toward LGBT identifiers and being "affirming" of and allied to the LGBT community? This article touches on attempts of some Evangelical Christians to wizen up and get with the picture, the WHOLE picture, of human rights.

All sorts of fodder for all sorts of angles and thoughts. Just a sampling of what my mind has been tackling these days.

ditching the double standard

2011-08-02T11:59:00.000-07:00

A lot of people default to a double standard when it comes to the Christian symbolism used by Anders Breivik, the accused Norwegian terrorist. They will go to great lengths to deny "Christianity" had anything to do with his murderous rampage. They are careful to preserve the sanctity of the label "Christian", yet they are unhesitant to link "Muslim" with "terrorist" as if the two are indeed a compound word.

For example, I just read a Washington Post article on the recent Norway tragedy, and found myself responding to one of the comments at the base of the article. The article is definitely worth reading and contemplating. So is my post...

@collenut - I understand Thistlethwaite's argument to be more complex than you suggest.

You said that by “ticking a Facebook box and citing language that he clearly doesn't understand [Breivik does not make himself] connected to anything Christian.”

To use your example: by ticking a Facebook box and citing Christian language (regardless of how coherent the citation) Breivik DOES indeed connect himself to at least two Christian things - 1) he's connected with some sense of Christian self-identification, and 2) he's connected to Christianity as an interpreter of Christian language.

The first connection seems easily dismissible, since his self-identification seems absurd in light of his violent acts... but it's the double standard and default assumptions surrounding the religious identity of terrorists that Thistlethwaite is arguing against - her Juergensmeyer quote sums this up - "If bin Laden is a Muslim terrorist, Breivik and McVeigh are surely Christian ones."

Perhaps Thistlthwaite is suggesting that if representatives of the political right wish to detract Breivik's Christian self-identity, then they must also be prepared to treat Islam with the same grace as they are treating Christianity. They must be willing to apply the same benefit of the doubt to Islam. They must resist the Islamaphobic impulse to automatically HONOR the self-identification of Muslim terrorists while automatically DISREGARDING the self-identification of Christian terrorists.

I think that Thistlethwaite’s main point, however, deals with Breivik’s second point of connection to Christianity – he is connected to Christianity as an interpreter of Christian language, of Christian narrative, history, and tradition. She is clear that Breivik’s violence does not implicate Christianity as a whole (just as Muslim terrorists do not implicate Islam as a whole). What I understand Thistlethwaite to be arguing is that – right, left, or center – other self-identified Christians need to respond to Breivik’s interpretations by considering the complex connections between the array of sources (religious and political) that fueled his (mis)interpretations.

As she wrote in “When Christianity Becomes Lethal”: “It is absolutely critical that Christians not turn away from the Christian theological elements in such religiously inspired terrorism. We must acknowledge these elements in Christianity and forthrightly reject these extremist interpretations of our religion.”

softapocalypse

2011-07-13T11:31:00.000-07:00

Driving up Lake Shore Drive last night en route to a reunion with some dear friends whom we haven't seen for several (too many) weeks I proclaimed to Lauren: I know what I'm going to write my thesis on!

Now, understand that this is not the first time I've made the claim out loud to her (she's totally an amazing sounding-board, the best a grad student could ever ask for). And for each time I've claimed it out load there have been a handful of other similar inner-claims that I've kept to myself.

Also, this is not a terribly urgent matter. I've decided to go to CTS part-time beginning in the Fall, which means I'll be kicking around the CTS community for another couple years, and won't be writing my thesis until next year, Fall 2012-Spring 2013. I'm rather ecstatic about spreading my grad experience out. I consider it an opportunity to delve deeper into the subject matter I'm exploring and to work up a more solid foundation for that penultimate plunge into thesis writing.

The realization that I had while on LSD (Lake Shore Drive) was boosted a bit by this video, an animated companion to a Slavoj Zizek lecture. It's worth a watch (or two or three if that's what it takes to track with it). The bit that I'm ruminating on doesn't come in until the end when he suggests a sort of soft-apocalypticism. What might it look like, from an ecological standpoint, to critique the hard-core apocalypticism found both in popular media and fundamentalist Christianity while arguing for the necessity of a soft-apocalypticism in our scientific, social, and theological language? It needs refining I know. And is subject to change, but what do you think? I welcome any of your offerings of insight.

Zizek is exploring a different question and domain. But, like I said, it's good stuff - as are some of the other RSA Animate videos I've perused. Enjoy...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hpAMbpQ8J7g&NR=1

What kind of real is heaven for?

2011-06-11T18:59:00.001-07:00

As I suggested in the previous post, I am rather obsessed with my own story. I am taken with the intricacies of my cultural and religious heritage. That being the case my ears pique when I here a story that is in anyway similar to mine, even if ultimately it is radically different. So I was tickled to discover that Colton Burpo, the protagonist of the bestseller “Heaven is for Real”, is a Wesleyan pastor’s kid. I am, or was at one time, a Wesleyan pastor’s kid. I thought this was ironic because the Wesleyan Church is not a big entity in the Christian empire. Wesley himself had a strong and lasting effect on Christendom, but the Wesleyan Church (not to be confused with mainline Methodism) is more of a mousy presence. But Colton’s father, Todd Burbo (who collaborated with Lynn Vincent, Sarah Palin’s ghost writer), managed to raise quite a ruckus when he published the story of his son’s near-death experience and brief visit to heaven.

There are plenty of reviews online that discuss the book’s claims. According to the record of sales those claims have a lot of clout in the readership of the American public. There are plenty of discordant reviews that rough house with the book’s implications, providing not an ounce of credulity to Todd Burpo’s claims. Perhaps the American public is credulous, or perhaps merely curious. But there’s something that tugs at the heart when people get more than speculative and start offering narratives of eyewitness certitude about postmortem reality.

As a fellow Wesleyan PK I can’t help but side with young Colton. (There is an oath that we all take, and it can’t be broken regardless of whether or not our pastor parent remains in good standing with the Wesleyan denomination.) The boy, quite apparently, had an incredible experience. One that I hope, despite the patronage of publicity, he is able to continue to claim as his own. But I can’t bite my tongue (without considerable pain) on one point that I find problematic.

Does the boy’s testimony of his experience amount to empirical proof that the popular evangelical images of heaven are really for real? Is this it – the proof that the public has been waiting for? The book concludes that the boy reported things he couldn’t possibly of known without actually visiting heaven. Can you argue with this evidence?

Between the two options of credulity and curiosity, I would suggest siding with the latter. Near the middle of the book the author describes the occasion that his son told him about meeting Jesus in heaven. Colton’s father is careful not to ask leading questions. With methodical devotion he is careful not to mar the evidence of the innocence of his son’s testimony. Colton described his encounter with Jesus, providing details about Jesus’ eyes and dress and “markers”. Todd Burpo puzzled over what his son meant by “markers” until it dawned on him… stigmata. He coaxed his son to describe Jesus’ markers and the boy stood pointing to the centers of his palms and the tops of his feet to show where the red markers were located on Jesus’ body.

This episode frames what could be considered the crux of the book, from chapter 12 “Eyewitness to Heaven”. Todd Burpo resolves from this incident that the evidence pointed to the fact that his son had visited the real heaven and, unprovoked and uninformed, Colton was describing his first hand encounter with Jesus. Colton’s encounter secured the traditional images of heaven as conclusively true, and it confirmed the reality of heaven as dauntingly irrefutable.

Again, I insist that I have no qualms with Colton’s powerful experience and vivid visions. I think of the potentially traumatic incident of emergency surgery that the boy (and family) went through, and of the healing and consoling effect that his vision of heaven had for him. I think this is beautiful. I think of the inspiring nature of the young Colton’s testimony, and the way that it must have moved his family and community to tears and celebration. I am thrilled by these happenings.

But why take this occasion and be so emphatic that it is incontestable proof that the piecemeal conglomeration of heavenly images used in most American evangelical churches is the absolute truth about the nature of the afterlife? And why insist that it is an undeniable indication of the complete, unadulterated, inerrant and consummate truth of the exceptionality of a very particular branch of Christian teaching about the gospel of Jesus? Is that necessary? Is it honest?

I learned in my 9th grade physiology class at a conservative Christian high school from a devout Christian teacher about the physiology of crucifixion. I remember this lesson more vividly than I do the lecture on the movement of blood through the heart or the synaptic leaps that occur in brain activity. It was detailed and disgusting. And one of the details I learned was this: Had Jesus been nailed to the cross through the centers of his palms as is portrayed in popular art the weight of his body would have pitched him down off the cross. The nails in his hands would not have been sufficient to support his body on a cross. His fleshy hands, lacking adequate bone support, would have ripped apart and he’d have fallen forward to the ground. Victims of crucifixion were not nailed to the cross through the palms of their hands but in their forearms, between the ulna and the radius, providing adequate structure to support the weight of their bodies and the duration of their torment.*

Colton pointed to the centers of his palms in recollecting his vision of Jesus’ “markers”. Does that inconsistent detail negate the value of his transcendent experience? No, I genuinely don’t think it does. Does it discredit Todd Burpo’s and Lynn Vincent’s use of Colton’s experience as forensic proof that the evangelical Christian gospel is universally and empirically a closed case? I think so.

It’s unfortunate that some lackluster adults used the images described by a playful and insightful child to narrow the expanse of truth to a very closed vision of reality. It’s problematic that they’re ending the conversation – about life and God and truth – by insisting on the final word. Perhaps by favoring our impulse for curiosity and resisting the temptation of uncritical credulity we can hear Colton’s story and keep the conversation alive.

*(Note: A scientist with an alternative conclusion regarding nail placement, but who also concludes with "It's never finished... It's always open.")

two influences

2011-06-03T07:57:00.000-07:00

While conversing with friends the other night, over a flight of local whiskeys at Chicago’s Watershed, something became apparent to me. I spend a fair amount of time pondering my religious heritage, sifting through my memories with the same care I use when I sip from a tumbler of nuanced rye. I isolate the traditions and encounters that have informed my convictions about religion. I conjure the occasions, adventures, predispositions and relationships that have composed my sense of spirituality. I let this variety play on my tongue then I feel it meld together and slide down my throat, warming my heart on the way by.

The piece that caught my attention the other night was how distinct yet similar my two most recent religious influences are. The first influence is comprised of the voices and ideas I’ve encountered in the evangelical emergent movement since reading A New Kind of Christian almost ten years ago. The second has included the academic forays of the CTS portion of my journey. The thoughts and thinkers that I have encountered while at CTS and those engaged in the emergent conversation are don’t really cross paths. These two primary influential pools have very little to do with one another. Nominally at least. For I find them to be intimately connected, if only in my own faith, seeking, and understanding.

In each there is a commitment to openness, dialogue, difference, engagement. Each pulls from a multiplicity of voices, traditions, and opinions. And both are committed in a firm and flexible way (yes, I said firm AND flexible) to Christian exploration and relation with the divine.

It isn’t a big deal that these two forces come at much of the same material in much the same spirit. It’s not profound. But it has been a formative and pleasant inner-dialogue for me. It is a dynamic interaction that I have been engaging ponderously, and it is one that I thought worth sharing.

If you want a general idea of what this intersection sounds like in words not my own, there’s a decent interview on one of the podcasts I listen to regularly – Homebrew Christianity. The interview captures elements of each force – CTS and emergence - quite well. (It does not address CTS explicitly, but rather the academic and political elements of theology that I have encountered at CTS.) Tripp Fuller of Homebrew interviews Gareth Higgins and they discuss an event going on later this month that will likewise incorporate this CTS-esque element with the momentum of the emergent conversation.

I am going to be involved that weekend with a different event here in Chicago, one that is sure to change the world, or at least this Midwestern fringe. So I recommend that if you’re in my hood, come check out the intersection of art, justice, and spirituality being hosted by my personal muse and guru. If you’re anywhere near North Carolina then gander off for a Wild Goose chase.

tomorrow?

2011-05-21T08:10:00.000-07:00

Apparently it's time. How are you feeling about that? (Oh yeah, by the way...)

easter

2011-04-24T18:52:00.000-07:00

I shared a moment of mystique last night when my friend shared his reflections on holy week. While holding 2oz of Glenlivet 18 and receiving the magnitude of his generous gesture the clock scrolled from yesterday to today. And like that, it was Easter.

I do not have polished reflections to share today. But I have been half-mindful of the sanctity of this week as it has played out in the lives and faith of so many. And I have been heartily lungeing toward the hint of new-life that this season portends. In this process I've scooped together bits of poetry and pieces of thought that I've salvaged from various encounters in the last handful-or-so of years. These are my meditations as I keep stride with the buds that are emerging on the trees in the neighborhood. They may seem random, but for me they're quite connected with one another.

~I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. (Alice Walker)~

~For me being a Christian is a romance, a pilgrimage into the unknown, a process of continual conversion. (Alan Jones)~

~And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair. (Kahlil Gibran)~

~It is a modern folly to alter a corrupt ethical system, its constitutions and legislation, without changing the religion, to have a revolution without a reformation. (Hegel)~

~You are in love with me, I shall make you perplexed. Do not build much, for I intend to have you in ruins. (Rumi)~

~A Christian is one who is on the way, though not necessarily very far along it, and who has at least some dim and half-baked idea of whom to thank. (Frederick Buechner)~

~This is the violet hour, the hour of hush and wonder, when the affections glow again and valor is reborn, when the shadows deepen magically along the edge of the forest and we believe that, if we watch carefully, at any moment we may see the unicorn. (Bernard DeVoto)~

~...That we may exist to honor God and enable questioning open minded people to discover for themselves the significance of Jesus Christ. (On the front placard at St. Martin in the Fields)~

~And this. (Lauren Znachko)~

own it

2011-04-04T20:22:00.000-07:00

Religious ideas are sticky for a lot of people. As in: People get stuck in them. Since I posted "hells bells" a couple of weeks ago I've been wanting to toss something at you to consider the sticky nature of religious ideas, and to prompt some thought about the danger that is inherent in getting stuck in a particular religious idea in an absolute way.

One of the ways to explore a religious idea is to track the history of the idea. It's important to track the history of (religious) ideas, because we fool ourselves when we think that they are static and fixed. Like any idea, religious ideas have a past. Religious ideas did not emerge ex nihilo, and if you hold a religious idea as true in one way or another, and use that idea to inform your understanding of the world and your interactions with others then you owe it to yourself, your religion, and your relationships to do your homework and consider the evolution of religious ideas.

I'm going to offer a brief example, just something to provide some momentum in case you feel so inclined to heed my suggestion. While it's still fresh, let's take a look at Hell. And after this I'll lay off of the morbid topics for a while. Promise.

I anticipate feedback similar to some of the comments on the "biblical" post - and that's okay, I understand that this is a controversial and intimidating topic, I understand that for some people a literal interpretation of the idea of Hell is a lynch pin in their worldview. It is my opinion that Hell is an idea that has built on other ideas and that has developed and shifted in Christian thought. I recognize that by not asserting that Hell is an absolute reality that has always meant the same thing (namely, postmortem everlasting torment for unsaved individuals) I am challenging something that is central to some Christian theologies. I understand that and I am okay with it.

We're going to do this bullet-point style, try to keep it brief. I'm hoping that this is more catalystic than conclusive. Proverbial food for thought. Something to chew on; but by no means anything worth gnashing your teeth over. Here it goes...

A bit on Heaven first

There are 7 or 8 different words that are translated as "heaven" in the Christian Bible - a few in Hebrew, the rest in Greek
They all have to do with the sky, with the air, with the celestial heights, loftiness, the horizon
Basically "heaven" functions as a point of reference - Where is God? Up there. Heaven.

A bit on Copernicus

Before him, the universe revolved around us - the "up there" swirled and twirled around us. We were the fixed point of reference.
(His ideas weren't precisely new, these ideas were floating around before him, but for one reason or another he gets credit in the West)
After Copernicus, "up there" got traded in for "out there"
In other words, a change in worldview resulted in a change in meaning. Heaven no longer means the high up, lofty place (because thanks to Copernicus "up" is kind of arbitrary).
Heaven isn't "up there" (its biblical use) but is "out there" (like a different dimension or realm). The idea of Heaven shifts. Ideas do that.

Hell the concept

Just like Heaven, the idea of Hell (the one that is likely in your head right now, though no doubt it varies amongst my readers) was a long time in the making
Complex and poignant images from the Bible
+ Various imaginative cultural portrayals (Dante, Milton, Blake)
+ Personal imagination and disposition
= Crystallization of contemporary concept of Hell

Hell the word

Hell is an English word. (Remember, the Bible was not written in English. So "Hell" is not, strictly speaking, in the Bible.)
The English word Hell derived from its Germanic parent around 725 CE
"Halja" = to conceal, hide, cover - (As in the now outdated use: "helling potatoes")

Hell in the Bible

(These are words that get translated into English as "Hell" - obviously different translations will vary. I think these numbers are from the NRSV. Not a precise or complete word study, but should be informative. Feel free to look into it for yourself!)

Sheol (Hebrew, 31x) - grave, pit, retreat, subterranean place of the dead, leveling place
Abbadon (Hebrew, ??x) - destruction, perish
Gehenna (Greek, 12x) - literally "Valley of Hinnom", garbage dump outside of ancient Jerusalem, site of ancient pagan sacrifices
Hades (Greek, 10x) - grave, place of the departed, (god of the) underworld
Tartarus (Greek, 1x) - deepest abyss, (actually a verb in the NT, tartaroo)

Mix it all up

So behind the word "Hell", depending on the text it is used in, there are a variety of meanings
death, pit, destroying fire, afterlife, etc
(Only about 20% of the usages are associated with fire)
Hell in the English New Testament is always connected with the judgement of right and wrong actions.
Pauline texts deal with judgement as well, but they have no mention of Gehenna or Hades.

What do we make of all of this? Do we read "Hell" in the Bible and assume that every occurrence of the word is referring to a lake of fire (as in Rev. 20) or that every occurrence is referring to the afterlife or that every occurrence is referring to punishment? It doesn't seem that that would be an honest way to honor the complexity of the use of the term in the Bible. I suppose it's an option, but it's not the only biblical option.

If you opt to interpret Hell as a literal fiery abyss, or if you opt to interpret Hell as a figurative annihilation, or if you opt to interpret the idea figuratively in Hellish manifestations on earth - regardless of what you think Hell is or means, own up to it. There are a lot of options. Do your homework, and chose well.

responsibility

2011-04-01T10:50:00.000-07:00

I have been wanting to throw a quote your way that functions as a satisfying summary of the thoughts I was trying to convey in my "biblical" post (note the stream of comments as well), but I can not remember which article or book or blog I snagged it from. So know that this is not mine, and if it is yours then feel free to claim it and thanks for letting me borrow it:

"The Bible is a complex, multi-voiced document. It's teachings can be harmonized only by imposing onto the Bible a uniformity that is not in the text itself... We have to accept responsibility for our interpretations."

Along with these thoughts regarding sacred text, consider some of the current controversy regarding sacred law: Is Religious Law Dangerous? It likely depends on the way that law is interpreted and imposed.

stirrings of change

2011-03-31T12:39:00.000-07:00

Go: here. Join in. Beautify the world. It's fun.

hells bells

2011-03-17T13:46:00.000-07:00

The eternal-fate-of-everyone-who-is-and-ever-has-been is big news these days. I suppose eternal fate is a topic that has tended to stay near the top of the list of human concerns for quite some time now. But Rob Bell’s new book on the topic (I hesitate to say new take on the topic, as would he I’m sure) has ruffled some conservative evangelical feathers while igniting vogue-esque anticipation amongst some of the Christo-chic.

I doubt that I’ll get to “Love Wins” anytime soon – my book shelf is already sagging with the weight of enough intellectual stimulation to drive me orgasmically into the next eon. But I tell you what, the video-peak got me excited; excited that an articulate voice is entering the fray of the public sphere with a nuanced message about God and love and the dilemma/delight of being human.

As with any God/human themed message, this one has been quick to incur comments and critique. Rob Bell is not a Christian! Rob Bell is the coolest Christian! It is not biblical! It is so timely!

I don’t think the point is whether Bell’s message is Christian, quasi-Christian or unchristian. The point is: Can you join the conversation from wherever you are (as a Christian, quasi-Christian or unchristian) and offer (and receive) an edifying insight?

I found it interesting last night at the start of class - before launching into Paul Tillich’s Systematic Theology volume II (wherein Tillich himself offers a bit of a nuanced message about God and love and the dilemma/delight of being human) – my professor mentioned seeing “some evangelical TV preacher on Good Morning America the other day.” She didn’t know who, but there was “a bunch of hype around this new book of his coming out because he stopped believing in hell or something; and,” she said, “I couldn’t really figure out what all the hype was about because to me it just sounded like he was someone with a seminary education.”

Now, I don’t share that to laud seminary (cause Laud knows that that there is plenty about seminary and seminarians that deserves no praise). Or to suggest that only the opinions of those with official theological educations should be valued. I thought it was interesting because it clued me in to the wider sphere of Christian conversation – wherein there are plenty of thoughtful, committed Christians (right here in America even, and in Chicago, just across the lake from Grand Rapids) who have no idea who Rob Bell is.

I know who he is. I like him; I like the way he postures himself – secure in his identity as a Christian and a seeker, and therefore capable of extending a solid embrace to the diverse spectrum of humanity around him. But a lot of people don’t know him. And as far reaching as the social media bullhorn is, and as adept as Bell and his crew may be at using it, his voice can’t and won’t reach everyone.

Which is to say: 1) To those of you who are so vehemently intimidated by Bell’s message, relax, calm down, he isn’t taking over the world or (gasp, even worse) Christianity – he has a voice and he’s using it. Use yours. Don’t squander your voice on rash, pithy polemics. Honor the conversation, and try to be constructive. 2) To those of you who think Nooma videos are sufficient sources for all of life’s decisions, maybe you should also loosen your fixation a bit. They are really cool and creative. But so are you – so hop up, off your ass, be inspired for sure, but get out there and engage the world with an expression of love and truth that is rooted firmly in the ground on which you stand.

biblical

2011-03-14T20:41:00.000-07:00

"I don't believe that. It's not biblical."

You've likely heard it said. Or perhaps a variation...

"It's true. I know it's true because it's biblical."

You've heard it said. Possibly you've even said it yourself. For many Christians it is common to acknowledge something (e.g. a belief, a social issue or behavior) as biblical or non-biblical. It is a functional point of reference. It effectively communicates that a person considers something to be either valid or invalid; condonable or condemnable.

The term is handy. It's a pocket-sized-explanation that can be pulled out and applied to a number of situations. It is abundantly useful. But maybe a bit too useful. And maybe, if we're not careful, the overuse might slink toward abuse.

I think it's time to consider taking a closer look at this particular piece of Christian parlance.

I don't want to suggest that you or anyone else cease using the term. But if you use it, consider also unpacking what you mean by it. Don't assume that what you mean by "biblical" is self-evident. Try not to use "biblical" as a win-all trump card.

For example, perhaps your belief about afterlife is shaped by certain texts in the Bible. Does that mean that your belief about afterlife is biblical? It might. But why not explain yourself a bit more. Which texts? And why do you read them the way you do? Do you know anyone who interprets them differently? How do you respond to them?

If you answered the final question with - "Their beliefs are not biblical" - then scroll up, start over, try again.

By all means, believe what you believe. But take responsibility for it. Don't prop your beliefs up next to the Bible without considering the implications. The Bible is loaded. If you push it, it's going to push back.

ash

2011-03-09T12:01:00.000-08:00

Have you read about the Homeland Security Council's hearings scheduled to begin tomorrow? Or did you see the front page article in the New York Times yesterday about the crowds gathering around one woman's anti-Muslim message?

It's discouraging to be working so hard on understanding the religious traditions, symbols, and discourse that intersect in today's global context - to have my nose in books aiming me at being better able to advocate for religious understanding - and then to come across such rampant, unbridled instances of religious misunderstanding (and ignorance!) being amplified by pundits and political figures.

I say "unbridled", but that's not true. Both articles that I linked to above effectively bridle the mis-placed slant that is being unambiguously applied to American Muslims. And there is plenty more critique, thank God. I say "unbridled" because I haven't done anything to rein it back. Unbridled, as of yet, by me.

So consider this my contribution to the pursuit of religious understanding. (It is a thing that we pursue, by the way, regardless of how impossible it may be to ultimately attain.) Today is Ash Wednesday. It is a day more or less designed to humble us (the Christian population of the world) and remind us of our finitude; remind us that we are not and do not possess, in any conclusive form, the answer to the human situation.

Today I have an ashen cross on my forehead. I have tear stains on my cheeks. I have a heavy heart. I heard this poem (by a Muslim mystic), and it helped:

Troubled?

Then stay with me, for I am not.

Lonely?

A thousand naked amorous ones dwell in ancient caves beneath my eyelids.

Riches?

Here’s a pick,

my whole body is an emerald that begs,

“Take me.”

Write all that worries you on a piece of parchment;

offer it to God.

Even from the distance of a millennium

I can lean the flame in my heart

into your life

and turn

all that frightens you

into holy

incense

ash.

my vote on election

2011-02-24T11:30:00.000-08:00

In my Dangerous Religious Ideas class we've been discussing, for several weeks, the religious teachings of election/chosenness as manifest in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Next week we've got to take a bit of a stance by drawing up a conclusion. I'm not big into conclusive conclusions. But here's what I'm working on... hopefully it'll serve to keep the discussion going:

The doctrine of election is not consistent in religious consciousness. Historically the inconsistent understanding of election, taken from the multivalent sources of religious traditions and texts, functioned at least partly as a check. It prevented any one, absolutist stance from being ultimately imposed. This accountability inherent in diversity, however, does not absolve the doctrine of election from its inherent dangers. While it has the potential to protect the self-concept of a vulnerable group, it does so to the detriment of that group’s potential for influence and longevity in the modern context.

The doctrine of election has, at times, functioned as a crutch to get vulnerable groups on their feet and advancing in solidarity with one another. Once a group is up and walking, no longer limping under the load of other groups’ despotic ideals, the crutch becomes useless except as a bludgeon with which to subjugate yet other more vulnerable groups. Even in the hands of a vulnerable group the crutch doubles as a weapon, and the contemporary crutch is far too explosive to ignore, let alone condone. We must seek other ways to ensure each group its particular stride in the global walk of life.

A commitment to the struggle against oppression and injustice today has to deal with the present context of heightened global awareness and multiplicity. Dealing with the present context requires that we be able to distance ourselves – if not entirely, at least episodically – from the exclusive and supersessionist claims of our traditions and sacred texts.

This necessitates a mature acknowledgment of the capacity for humans to be more than one thing at a time, i.e. the capacity for humans to be at the same time individuals and participants. The doctrine of election does not foster this confidence but caters to the incoherent fear that in cooperating one loses one’s identity, and in participating one becomes negligible. Only by moving beyond the doctrine of election can we authentically engage the differences between others and ourselves without absolutely dismissing their faith-perspectives as antiquated or errant. There is not a fixed solution to today’s situation in any faith tradition. Therefore none of us have been elected to share the solution. Though we may all have a part in sharing in the solution. Each faith tradition, if alive and lively, does have the capacity to actively engage the contemporary context. We must collectively commit ourselves to the continual process of nurturing identities that are both secure and pliable.

getting personal, going political

2011-02-11T12:47:00.002-08:00

I was jarred and confused with myself a couple of days ago when a professor at the seminary, who I was meeting for the first time, asked me about my focus of study. Confused because at this point in the game I feel strongly as if I should have a ready answer to such an inquiry, but instead I strolled along beside him asserting that, “I don’t really know, it’s hard to say.”

And that’s true. It is hard to say. And not least of all difficult to toss my convictions, my concerns, and my ambitions into the condensed setting of a thirty second encounter. But I think I do know really. And hard as it may be I think I need to take opportunities like that to try and say something of what I am doing here.

There are two re-emerging themes in my ever-active mind. [Correction: I shut it down for a few rounds of Angry Birds every couple of days. But aside from then, the themes continually surface in my thoughts.]
1) Advocating an ecological consciousness and mindfulness of our connection to the earth.
2) The pluralistic dynamics (especially pertaining to religious diversity) inherent in contemporary society.

Neither of these subjects of contemplation makes me particularly remarkable, especially as one who calls CTS home. At CTS social-mindedness is the norm, and social action is foremost on the agenda. That’s why I’m here. Not to refine my ipseity, but to be one amongst a group of thoughtful and committed humans intent on spiffing up the world.

But I do believe that I have something specific, even particular, to contribute to the mosaic of history. And part of being here is to risk putting words to what that contribution might be.

So the next time I get a chance to toss my ambitions into a sound byte I might say something like: I am here to amp up the call of the wild; to nurture eco-mindfulness; to treat the earth (in all its grit) as metaphor and context for mutli-faith encounter and (inter)action.

And if I have the time I might risk saying that I am an aspiring political-theologian with a taste for wild places. Which would require some parsing of the title; and would lead to me pulling this gem out of my pocket:

“What is at stake in theological thinking today is not tinkering with the religious self-understanding of religious institutions and still less with providing nostrums for a narcissistic spirituality, but rather of trying to think resolutely and lucidly about a future for humanity and for life itself in the face of the menace of self-inflicted biocide. Real theological thinking is directed toward the question of the deliverance of the earth and the earthling from the empire of avarice, arrogance and violence.”

I’m here rehearsing the various ways that the symbol of God functions in the world (past and present). I’m using the classroom as a tuning fork, finding my pitch, so that I can join the chorus of the community. And staying on my toes in case I get a chance to chant a solo.

[Several voices contributed to this post: Margaret Mead’s “Never doubt…” quote, Theodore Jennings’ quote above, and Elizabeth Johnson’s “The symbol of God functions.”]

snow day flirtations

2011-02-03T09:41:00.000-08:00

The early Valentine I received today:

My heart is strangely warmed. Thanks babe. Love you too.

narratives

2011-01-26T13:21:00.000-08:00

I had intended to write more blogable entries while schlepping about these holy plots of land. I have been plodding through my experiences with the discipline of daily journal writing, doing my best to set one word next to another in an attempt to find some sense of cohesion and meaning in the situation on the ground in Palestine/Israel. But – and this is really no surprise – my entries have taken shape as rambles and disjointed thoughts, pulling from a hundred moments a day and as many emotions, sifting through layer after layer of narrative only to arrive at the end of an entry (and the end of each day) exhausted, frustrated, resigned, and all too ready to slap my head down on a flat pillow and stretch my legs to the edge of the narrow bed that cradles me.

In broad strokes we have gone from historic Jerusalem, through the sacred spots of the three monotheistic traditions, into a Bethlehem that is diced up by the ominous presence of a twenty foot wall, and for days now we have been hopping from one living room or lounge to the next hearing from residents and grass-roots leaders, lawyers and clergy and students and activists, farmers and veterans about the their pieces of this complex tapestry. They have shared their space, their values and perspectives, their initiatives, and when at all possible they have extended what little hope for peace and coexistence there is in their hearts.

I have learned a lot about Judaism. A lot about the state of Israel. And a lot about the conflicting claims placed on plots of land, not to mention a bit about the dilemma that those claims pose to the land itself. Yesterday, for instance, we learned about the politics of water in the Golan Heights, which for a boy who grew up flipping faucets on and off without a second thought as to its source of origin, was an illuminating discussion. We began today with a clip from Life of Brian that ironically and comically shed significant light on the complexity of any situation (which to date has been every situation, at least in this place) where there is an imbalance of power. One would think it would be quite simple to diagnose the goods from the evils. But one would be wrong. One would only need to sit in the living room of a Palestinian family on one side of the wall, feeding their gold fish and talking about the latest Pixar movie one day, and then sit down in a dining room on the other side of the wall to share Shabbat dinner with a young family of five the next to know that they are wrong about the ease of diagnosing any situation of conflicting interests.

One needs to encounter the other, to hear their narrative, their angle, to be afforded the opportunity to ask questions and push into their story to understand that claiming a monopoly on truth or a monopoly on what makes sense or claiming to know what solution is the right solution is rooted in immaturity and ignorance.

From what I’ve seen and heard it strikes me that those who are most honest about life in the midst of conflict (and what life isn’t in one conflict or another?) accept, even embrace, the need to release the simplistic notion that an ideal is possible. Ideals clash. Absolutes collide. It takes courage and grace and a ridiculous amount of hope, but it seems necessary to consider the other’s presence as essential to one’s own wholeness. Love your neighbor. Love your enemy. Love your next-door enemy. It is not the proximity of conflicting narratives to one another that causes violent conflict; it is the fear of the other and hyper-insecurity about oneself that escalates our natural differences into occasions of hostility and brutality – whether verbal or physical. It’s not okay anymore, if it ever was, to shun diversity. The fear of multiplicity arises from a craven heart or an ignorant one. It is not okay to pretend like human homogeneity is an option. It is okay to be yourself, embodying your narrative, while accepting the other and honoring a plurality of voices.

Coexistence is possible. I’ve seen it. Peace is more elusive – both in reality and in any definable form. Perhaps the elusive nature of peace is a practical trait. If peace was static and could be enshrined in one place or fixed into some society, it would be missing elsewhere – another human community or the ecological neighborhood we are a part of. Our actions, habits, happiness, and security impact the lives and presence of others. Perhaps the best peace is an elusive peace, one that is always being hoped toward but never quite reached. For if I am at peace then my neighbor may be suffering, and that is not just. But if we both attempt harmony, while not neglecting the reality of our differences, perhaps we may transcend inert coexistence and participate, as broad conduits, in the dynamic and enduring flow of peace.

yireh.eretz.shalom

2011-01-19T20:11:00.000-08:00

We arrived at the pinnacle of a month of green in a land typically adorned with hues of brown. As I gazed out the window at this rare verdancy, the narrative of the land began to bud, awaiting the careful cultivation of stories and further experiences.

The geography here impacts. It is politically and tactically vital. Religiously packed. Commercially vulnerable. On our ascent to Jerusalem our bus climbed the road from flat coastal lands to the mountainous places that have captured generations of attention and held memories that span millennia. It is a climb that has been manifest in spirits seeking God, in people claiming patrimony, and in farmers tending to tangled fruit.

Yesterday we sat on the stone with our backs to the Temple Mount, seated where many have climbed. From whichever angle and whatever distances it is really a singular ascent. A singular ascent with multiple accents.

A stroll through the streets just under the mountain’s gaze testifies to the many who have set their eyes on Yeru-shalem, coming to explore and express their roots. Coming to have a go at life – real life. Coming with their hopes set on what the place promises – a Yireh of Shalem, a vision of peace.

From fertile lands, desert lands, coastal lands, and foreign lands people have traipsed the heights. Alighting from afar they (and now we are amongst them) set step after step toward this collection of contours that have upheld countless pilgrims and pushed back against the friction of traditions that attempt to tame the wildness of this place with a collection of absolutes.

With my eyes closed I can see the wilderness, as it was long ago, an arm’s length from the wall. The wall that suggested the parameters of safety. Amongst other myths that we may or may not choose to question, the myth of safety is one that begs our questions without our permission. The current feel inside the walls is tense at best – a situation that can and should and, dare we hope, is, in some corners at least, being calmed and relaxed with the hard relational work of seeking understanding and mutuality in the edgy elements of confusion and plurality. We like the idea of safe. We do our best to approach and promote safe. But that’s a functional safe, it’s a bodily and emotional safe. It is not an absolute safe. Try as we may, we cannot fend off the realities of encounter no matter how firmly we construct our absolutes.

But that’s not what our structures are for any way. Our structures invite divine presence; they don’t contain it. At best our structures facilitate encounter. They are a place to wrestle out the logistics of sacred experience.

Jerusalem is not a place that panders to absolutes. It deals in truths, not certainties. In a sense we know why we’re here, our memories and the stories of this place make us secure in this space. But our knowledge ends with question marks and security is fragile.

God will show. God will be seen. God has shown. God has been seen. Stories build on each experience of divinity like the levels of the city, the strata of stone, and the layers of wall.

These walls were built to adorn God with a place to come. Not stay. These are the walls that pilgrims flock to for sanctuary from the mundane and the profane. But they are breach-able. The Jerusalem walls have been overflowed by neighborhoods. The neighborhoods have built more walls; walls and neighborhoods that mythically keep God in and neighboring neighbors out.

We are all afraid of the wild places – the unsafe spots – outside the walls we construct. But what are we really afraid of? Do we have the courage to risk contact with the unkown?

I can imagine intrepid pilgrims moving in reverse, guided by a hunch – as if their question marks were strapped to their foreheads like phylacteries pulling them into the curious possibility that maybe God isn’t stuck in the sacred and the secure. Maybe God is out there too, beyond the walls in the wilderness. Maybe God is in them too, breaching my prejudice. Maybe God is inexplicably tangled up at the root of the mountain in thousands of years of memories.

There is no need to destroy our structures. Let us keep them in tact. Let Christians flee to the Eucharist. Let Jews cling to the Torah. Let Muslims turn toward Mecca. But let us all risk the wilderness, because God is feral. And as we go today let us not stop looking, because outside the city walls a wild God wanders the desert.

born again and always growing

2011-01-08T14:06:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine sent me an email the other day after reading some of my posts and posed a question: What do you believe about being born-again?

For some of my readers that question makes a lot of sense, because "being born-again" is central to your identity and a key means of articulating your self-understanding. It is a phrase, and perhaps an experience, lifted from Jesus' conversation with Nicodemus (and other biblical points of reference) that contains a whole lot of thrust for you. To be born again is key.

For others of my readers the significance of the question and the force of the phrase "born-again" is not apparent. You've heard certain Christians apply the label to themselves or each other. But it seems vague and rather cliche due to overuse. It's one of those phrases that has stopped meaning what it may have once poetically meant.

I took my friend's question seriously, mostly because I take this particular friend seriously. But also because I appreciated the opportunity to toss back some of my thoughts pertaining to my understanding of the phrase/phenomenon. I touched on my Wesleyan (and western) background and my appreciation for moment(s) of conversion. And I offered my understanding of and appreciation for the eastern Christian concept of theosis as an alternate means of understanding salvation and regeneration.

But really it would have been sufficient for me to have sent my friend a link to this video:

(thanks to the prettiest of human beings for exposure this beautiful bit of media)

pitter-patter

2011-01-06T08:48:00.000-08:00

I wrote my final paper last semester on doing theology from an ecological foundation. We tend to do well at remembering that when it comes to God the sky is the limit, but I think more often than not we forget that the earth is our springboard. It is easy to imagine the bearded old man in the sky, the Our Father (who art in heaven), fielding our prayers. It is not as easy to remember that it is Mother earth who props us up and provides the substance for those prayers. It is she who cases our spirits with matter. Mother/Mater pittering our prayers to Pater/Father. The breaths we breathe, the flesh we bear, the relationships that sustain us and give us purpose – she accounts for them all. And while there is no telling whether or not our abstract image of the God out there is accurate, there is plenty of God right here to hold on to.

But hopefully our theology breaks through these simplistic dualisms of spirit and matter, female and male, earth and elsewhere. What if our theology did not thrive on static absolutes that fix God untouchably in the center of our lives? God is not an entity for us to gawk at. What if instead our theology thrived on the dynamism of possibilities? God is not a point of focus or a fixation. God is a blur of activity that occurs always in the peripheral. God happens at the margins of our vision.

I heard recently that the classic translation of Exodus 3:14’s Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, “I am who I am”, is not the most accurate translation on the market. The translation fits well into a western mentality where the best things are established things, things that are fixed and secured and absolute. But whether or not we westerners like it Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh implies motion and becoming more than it does completion or a conclusive entity. It means something closer to “I will be what I will be” or the even more counterintuitive, “I will be that which I am”. This story of God’s intimate moment with the prophet Moses teaches us that God is something other than fixed reality. God is reality in flux.

A contingency of being open to God as reality in flux is that it requires one to foster a hyper-awareness. I have to be alert and attentive to what is happening around me and within me, and I must do my best to attend to what is happening around and within others (and not just other humans). The comfort of fixing God to an absolute standard of stability (God as unchanging, unmoving, the same yesterday today and forever) is that I can close my eyes to the others around me and neglect the dynamics that swirl within me. I can take comfort in the certainty that even if the world gets tumultuous I will be secure, barnacled to my monolithic God. This metaphor for God – my rock and shelter in the storm – has a profound function. It can be used as devotional assurance in turbulent times. It is especially available to those who are dispossessed – the homeless, the refugee, threatened and abandoned populations.

But it is not an absolute description of reality. There are equally profound metaphors that suggest that God is more akin to the storm itself. God is not primarily a being to latch onto for comfort – especially for we who are already excessively comfortable. God is a forceful occasion to participate in. Contemplation and devotion are not excuses for inaction. We reflect on God in order to engage divine momentum. Our meditation functions to sharpen an intuitive responsiveness to the moment, every moment, wherein God occurs.

urban landscapes by night

2011-01-04T21:00:00.000-08:00

urban landscapes by day

2011-01-04T09:47:00.000-08:00

my true loves gave to me

2010-12-26T10:48:00.000-08:00

This has been a powerful Christmas for me.

I have experienced a togetherness with my multi-tiered family that is fuller than I dared hope. The geographical distances and relational landscapes of family often create a blur of uncertainty that eludes focus and tranquility. Yet this year it's as if an adept photographer (perhaps toting a Panasonic Lumix LX 5, as I will be from here on out) took aim and snapped a shot of the bunch of us laughing and gifting and feasting; singing and playing; remembering and anticipating; expressing our gratitude and holding each other tight.

The careful composition of that image is what I will be carrying with me (tucked in my back pocket next to my new plaid handkerchief) into the year ahead. The way that the light gambols from face to face will be a graphic promise that in times of uncertainty and flux, peace is resoundingly possible.

Perhaps over the next twelve days of Christmas, at some point, you may find a chance to listen in to this sermon preached in anticipation of the advent of one who graced the world with his presence of equanimity in the midst of an often harsh reality; of calm and hope that tends to displace the harshness of the wintry moments in life with the warmth of conscientious connection to one another.

Laurence: at CommonGround, on the Advent

what i'm reading along with everything else i'm reading:

2010-12-04T10:50:00.001-08:00

http://neweyeseachyear.wordpress.com/

and you should read it too. it's the sort of writing that touches that secret spot in you. in such a way that you think some combination of 'weird' and 'wow' is going on between you and the writer, or at least you and the text. it makes you curious about whether or not, just maybe, the world isn't out to get you so much as it's out to invite you.

invite you to what? read it, and keep reading it throughout december (*think advent*), and it will probably become clear. maybe not crystal clear. that's not the point. but clear enough to take your next step with confidence.

seminary semester #1

2010-11-30T09:12:00.000-08:00

I’ve learned that there has never been a single orthodox Christian theology. There have been dominant imperial theologies and less influential brands of liberation theology. There have been theologies that have engendered violence and theologies that have engendered compassion. There have been theologies that create fear and manifest themselves in frightful ways; there have been theologies that foster mutuality, which take shape in cooperative relationships. But there has never been a conclusive theology, no final articulation of the divine, no one portrayal of God that has any “right” to trump another. Theology is a mess of exerted attempts to calculate and/or incarnate God. It’s a mess of options that render themselves inspired and/or inspirational. It’s a mess that isn’t (and has never been) sorted by one sort of authoritative declaration or another. Church councils have tried, but there’s always someone who eventually pushes back. Empires and nations do their best but don’t manage. Scripture – even if it were agreed upon what’s in and what’s out, what is and what isn’t sacred text – as it turns out is too slick to nail to the door of dogma in any final rendition.

I don’t think this is a problem. Have you ever cleaned out rain gutters? Your fingernails get all grimy. Accomplishing the task requires a certain disregard for cleanliness (as well as an affinity for perching at the edge of dangerous heights). You have to dig in with both hands and scoop out the decomposing mess (and risk a fall) to get the flow back.

That’s what I’ve learned about theology too. Both hands. Risky business.

Some theologians – professional and lay alike – would sooner not process the mess of theology. I’m not sure what motivates them to maintain that God is a tidy subject and that God-talk ought to be a sterile practice. Acknowledging the mess is helpful for me because it frees me from the paranoia that comes with trying to keep clean. Theology isn’t a practice of propriety. It never has been.

A lot of contemporary concepts of God are clogging the outlets of creativity in people’s lives. It's kind of pointless to be dainty with the God-clot when what you’re after is God-flow. Carefully pinching away twigs and soggy leaves won’t cut it. Instead: one handful of the mess after another, freeing the gutter from guarded doctrines that have proven themselves to be obstacles to the vital, fluid, forceful flow of a refreshing God.

And yeah, we'll have to clean it out again later. Theological job security I suppose.

reading: Beyond Monotheism

2010-11-18T08:58:00.000-08:00

Naomi Shihab Nye:

Some start out
with a big story
that shrinks.
Some stories accumulate power
like a sky gathering clouds,
quietly, quietly,
till the story rains around you.

Laurel Schneider:
When did the stories of God become a story of totality, of a closed system, of a One? To what corner of human longing does the story of the One belong? As the motors of fundamentalism in all of the religions of One God race on the fuel of battered bodies and broken hearts, the logic of the One chokes on itself like a stone in the mouth. The story of the One denies fleshiness and the stubborn shiftiness of bodies; it cannot abide ambiguities and unfinished business; it cannot speak syllables of earth. But in its failures are openings, for there are always gaps in the story of the One, fissures that widen and crumble at the edges... The story of the One cannot, finally, achieve the still point that it pretends to crave; the very stones cry out.

John Rajchman:
the whole is not given, and things are always starting up again in the middle, falling together in another, looser way... one thus has nothing of the sense of a well-planned itinerary; on the contrary, one is taken on a sort of conceptual trip for which there pre-exists no map.

compassion

2010-11-16T07:24:00.000-08:00

moving meaning

2010-11-11T07:24:00.000-08:00

Kristin, Keith, Ashley, Jeffrey, and Kari thank you for your help! I turned the paper in last night and I feel great about it. I was delighted with the thoroughness, openness, and depth of your responses. It's an honor to consider each of you a peer and a colleague in this whirly, twirly pursuit of meaning.

I won't bother to confound you with my brilliant analysis of the distinctions and similarities between Structuralist Criticism and Deconstructive Criticism, which more or less comprised the first bits of my paper (let me know if you want a copy and I can email one to you). But I would like to share the conclusion of my paper. Hopefully it will make some sense, even though it's out of context:

It is a dangerous reality that a text, which is considered to be sacred and authoritative by a community, may be used to harm people inside and outside of that community. The selective deafness of a community to particular members, usually the marginalized minorities, will result in a perceived consensus that fails to recognize the concerns of those whose voices are silenced. This is a difficult reality to grapple with. The Christian community has continuously participated in this reality when engaging the biblical text. This is made apparent and contended with by many necessary disciplines, such as Feminist and Post-colonial studies, Queer theory, and Liberation theology (amongst others). Many people from the margins of the Church are pushing their way to the pulpit, demanding the movement of the Bible’s meaning in ways that will alleviate them from inaccurate stigmas. Others scrap the text or leave one community for another that has reached a more welcoming consensus. And there are others who continue to be subjected to the harsh reality of harmful readings of the Bible. It is a responsible thing to do, because of this last group, to challenge not only the specific meanings that those communities are adhering to but also the absolutism that allows them to hold their stance.

This does not require that all religious conviction regarding a sacred text be discarded or that critical rhetoric needs to be adopted. There are other ways to articulate the complex relationship between a community and its sacred text that remain honest about the possibility of the movement of meaning. For instance, Christians embracing the Bible as their sacred text may perceive it as “unchangeable but alive”. The paradox of that statement honors the mysterious nature of religious sensibilities while also acknowledging that the Bible, with its relatively unchanging script, can be engaged as an interactive force in the community. A Christian may find it challenging to be exposed to the suggestion that the meaning of the Bible, even one portion of the Bible, is not fixed. But there are options of adaptation for that Christian. There are ways that they may become open to a flexible understanding of the structure of meaning in the Bible without having to relinquish their religious identity. The situation of marginalized members of a Christian community who wish to remain part of that community as holistically engaged individuals is more sober. Without a communal flexibility of understanding, marginalized members of that community must choose to remain truly themselves – unorthodox, homosexual, female, dark-skinned – and release their religious identity. Or they must choose to suppress their selfhood in order to retain a sense of religious belonging. This need not be the case. Trustworthy structures are built to flex for the safety of those who find sanctuary in them.

needed: comments from the faithful

2010-10-31T19:13:00.000-07:00

Calling all people of faith. Specifically people of faith in the Bible. It doesn't much matter to me what sort of faith in the Bible you have, but I need people who consider it a special text, in one way or another. (Some of you may think it's inspired, others that it's inspiring. If you think it's completely archaic and entirely dull then tune out for this post... but tune back in for all subsequent posts. You are still welcome here.)

I have an assignment for one of my Bible classes coming up, and I need your help. This is your chance to contribute to graduate level work in the field of religious studies. Do not pass this up! Whether you know me personally or not, whether you do it anonymously or not, respond to this post with a comment. Okay? Okay!

Here's what I need, it's simple: I'm reading a book (it's called Judges and Method, if you're interested) that contains a sampling of several relatively new approaches to biblical study and interpretation. One of the things that the content and the structure of the book implies is that there are in fact several different ways that a person can approach the biblical text. That there is not just one way to read or interpret the Bible.

I'll be writing a paper on the book and one of the questions I'm dealing with is this: Given the fact that so many readers of the Bible are people of faith who come to it expecting a single, clear "word" or message; and given the fact that many people expect scholars to tell them what the biblical text "really meant," how do you think most people of faith would respond to the exposure of such a range of approaches?

So what do you think? I need you to be honest, and I want a broad range of opinions... so lay it on think. How/what do you feel about the concept that there might be a range of approaches to the Bible? that there may not be one fixed meaning to any given biblical text?

(PS - If any of you who think that the Bible is entirely dull ended up disregarding my initial caveat and you're still reading this post - you should read the book of Judges and see if that doesn't cause you to reconsider... it's totally wild, not for the faint of heart.)

whirling

2010-10-25T18:28:00.000-07:00

Just finished watching Occupation 101, a documentary that engages the Israeli/Palestinian conflict from an angle not typically covered by popular media. It opens with a quote by Stephen Hawking, "The greatest enemy of knowledge is not ignorance, it is the illusion of knowledge." And it proceeds from there to recount the layers of complex tragedy that have steadily accrued in Israel/Palestine within the past several decades.

I will be traveling to Israel/Palestine with a group of students, professors, and peace activists in January. The trip for me will be an attempt to continue to dispel personal ignorance regarding the complex religious, social, and political issues that pervade the pocket of the globe commonly referred to as The Holy Land. I also hope to contribute to a more accurate (less delusional) understanding of what has and is contributing to the conflict. In my sphere of influence, my conversations and interactions, the extension of my voice, I want to be honest and hopeful.

Honesty and hope don't always go hand in hand on our whirling twirling globe. But let's try.

pro-carnal

2010-10-07T06:48:00.000-07:00

Albert Mohler wrote an article about whether or not [his type of] Christians should practice yoga. His conclusion was not surprising, since [his style of] Christianity is radically challenged by the pluralistic ethos of the global culture today. As a representative of sequestered Christianity he concluded that yoga is not an appropriate practice for those wishing to maintain [his particular brand of] a Christian identity.

Again, no big surprise. And I'm doubtful that his article will do much to dissuade committed yoga practitioners, even Christian ones. Most practitioners are convinced of the sanctity of yoga because it functions. They don't need approval from the Christian aristocracy. Yoga is fine, and Mohler is fighting a losing battle (against a bunch of fit pacifists) to suggest otherwise.

I'm more concerned with implications that Mohler made about core Christian teaching and his apparent ignorance of traditional Christian practices. His audience has shallow roots in the world of yoga, but plenty of Christians would have heeded his words that:

"Christians are not called to empty the mind or to see the human body as a means of connecting to and coming to know the divine. Believers are called to meditate upon the Word of God — an external Word that comes to us by divine revelation — not to meditate by means of incomprehensible syllables."

Mohler's limited and noxious understanding of yoga aside, he's denying something key to Christianity here. And as a current student of the early church fathers I can be quite certain that, though they may concur that yoga is eccentric, they would rip Mohler's anti-body sentiments into tiny shreds and scatter them over a Docetistic grave. Christianity is all about the body.

As a progressive Christian who is fully confident that he's got nothing on yoga I'm willing to sidestep his offensive and untoward attitude about it. But don't mess with the incarnation.

be kind

2010-10-04T12:19:00.001-07:00

Gregory & Jesus

2010-10-03T10:23:00.000-07:00

Last week I wrote a paper summarizing Gregory of Nyssa's work: The Great Catechism. In it I found a striking quote, one of my favorite Christian exclamations to date:

"The labyrinth of this our life cannot be threaded by the faculties of human nature unless a [human] pursues that same path as he did who, though once in it, yet got beyond the difficulties which hemmed him in."

This was Gregory's argument. This was Gregory's perception of the necessity of God's having been incarnate in Jesus at a crucial point in history. It is a perception, an argument, an exclamation that I find engage-able.

The labyrinth of this our life cannot be threaded by the faculties of human nature unless...

Unless we follow in the way, the style of life, of one who limns the crux in reality where divinity and humanity intermingle.

Maxiums the Confessor (580-682 CE)

2010-09-30T11:42:00.000-07:00

Ignorance about God on the part of those who are wise in divine things is not a lack of learning, but a knowledge that knows by silence that God is unknown.

God possesses an existence... that is beyond all affirmation and negation.

mission

2010-09-21T09:19:00.000-07:00

In Tom Robbins' Another Roadside Attraction there is an account of the passing conversation that Jesus had with Tarzan. I don't think that it is historically factual. But maybe some sort of truth can be found in it?

---

[Jesus]: I’m preparing myself for my mission.

[Tarzan]: Which is…?

[Jesus]: To change the world.

[Tarzan]: The world is perpetually changing. It doesn’t do much else but change. It changes from season to season, from night to day, from ice to tropics. It changed from a pocketful of cosmic dust into the complicated ball of goof and glory it is today. It’s changing every celestial second with no help whatsoever. Why do you want to stick your nose into it?

---

Facetious iconoclast though he is, Tarzan kind of deserves an answer. Or if not an answer than at least some thought in response to his rhetorical question.
At least that's how I feel. Because here I am, back in the classroom, preparing myself for my mission. It's good to be here. It feels natural for me. To what end? Or is it enough to be somewhere that feels right.
I can't decide if I want to change the world, or find my place in it. Maybe those two options aren't radically different?

link

2010-09-16T08:11:00.000-07:00

Classes are cruising along. Lots of stimulation, a great community of learners, plenty of reminders as to why it is that I am doing what I'm doing. Why? To change the world of course! -- Kind of kidding, more on that from Tom Robbins later...

For now, here's a link to some balanced and, from where I stand, pretty accurate thoughts about Islamic concepts that might otherwise seem confusing to my readers whose only understanding of Islam is in the context of the sensational headlines of mainstream media.

Feel free to post your thoughts and comments here. Though I would ask that you think first and then post, thus filtering out unfounded animosity.

Article: The Meaning of the Koran.

routine

2010-09-06T18:09:00.000-07:00

Tuesday 2pm. Constructing a Concept of God.
Xenophanes observed that people create gods in their own image. Whether that's true ontologically or not is still up for debate. But that old satirical Grecian hit the nail on its head in a round about way at least. How we conceive and perceive of God is partially due to the stance we take, the angle we're coming at God from. Tuesday's at 2 I will join professor Laurel Schnieder as we "examine and develop various proposals for conceiving of God in rapidly changing Christian communities". We'll be unpacking all of the heft and bulk of angles like this: liberationist, post-modern, feminist, African-American, Asian, and post-colonial.

Tuesday 6.30-9.30pm. History of Christian Thought: Foundations.
That's quite a presumptuous title. Historically speaking Christians have done an awful lot of thinking. And those thoughts veined out in every which way. Truth be told this course will be sticking mostly to Western manifestations of Christian thought, and we'll only have the space really to survey some of the loudest and proudest of Christian thinkers from early on through to the Reformation. I like the title, it abbreviates nicely (Hist XN Thot), but "Some of the Thoughts Christians Had for a Millenia or So" would be a touch more appropriate.

Wednesday 9am-noon. Interpreting the Gospels.
No small task in and of itself. I'm alright without Greek for this class, but I will be brushing up on the "Grecco-Roman milieu of the Gospels". Professor Yang (rumor has it she pulls a bit of weight in the contemporary milieu of New Testament hermeneutics) will open our burgeoning minds to today's methods of gospel research and scholarship. But in an ongoing effort not to bite off more than our mandibles can handle we'll be sticking to the canonical gospels for this course.

Wednesday 6.30-9.30pm. People and Faith of Israel I
Bible stories mostly. But not the rated G, warm and fuzzy versions. The Hebrew Bible has been put through the crucible a time or two. And it has emerged as one of the finest collections of literary prowess on the market. It has a lot to say about God, a lot to say about faith, and a lot to say about life. Hopefully they won't be saving all of the juicy stuff for the second installment of the course. That shouldn't be a problem; there's plenty of substance to go around.

place in space

2010-09-02T10:51:00.000-07:00

With a fresh batch of eager friends and colleagues, a charming neighborhood (and city) to continue to explore, and an exciting schedule of classes soon to begin I move into this weekend both weary and light.

Our apartment has become thoroughly ours and, infused with personal touches of color and comfort, will function as the perfect home base for this coming bout in academia. (Thank you Lauren.) My new friends come from all walks (and sprints and tip-toes and dances) of life - they are beautiful and energetic and I feel embraced and privileged to be among them.

I'm trying now to catch my breath in the midst of all of this incipience.

I breathe in satisfaction, and breathe out anxiety.
I breathe in organization, and breathe out clutter.
I breathe in expectation, and breathe out intimidation.
I breathe in deep into the center of myself, and breathe out with my arms wide open.

angles

2010-08-23T10:39:00.000-07:00

The angle that I come at Christianity from is not unanimously considered legitimate. What results is that I am considered a) [best case scenario] a prayer request, or b) [worst case scenario] a threat. In my case I've sensed in spots that I am viewed as a bit of each.

Now I don't mind being prayed for. But the threat thing throws me off. I think that that has to do with the others' fear, not my scariness. Throughout history "new" ideas, unconventional ideas, ideas that vary from the norm have been regarded with suspicion and nervousness. I want to be sensitive to that, and I think I am. I bite my tongue a lot.

But my tongue is getting sore. And while I don't think that I have "it all together", I am confident that I have a valuable (not scary) perspective, that I'm not alone in my approach to Christianity or in my experience of Jesus, and that I am gifted with the capacity to communicate (and demonstrate) the things that I believe about life and God and faith.

So, ready or not...

capacity

2010-08-16T08:04:00.000-07:00

Some things transcend reason. Others contradict it. Consider the difference.

I'm on it!

2010-08-12T18:03:00.000-07:00

Have a look at this brief article from my homeland regarding religious understanding in Canada.
Raising the standard for what is considered a socially acceptable grasp of religion, whether one's own or one adhered to by your neighbors, is pretty much exactly what I want to do with my life.
That and spend a lot of time playing outdoors.
Peace. Shalom. Namaste. Etc.

open letter to a jazz lover

2010-08-11T17:22:00.000-07:00

August 11, 2010

Professor Harvey Cox,

I’m a chapter away from being finished with reading your book: Fire From Heaven. I want to thank you for your insightful perspective. More than your perspective even I’m grateful to have witnessed your posture. It is one that I aim to emulate as I begin a new phase of training and dreaming toward my vocation and career. Thank you for having the courage to treat your subject with a sense of mutuality. Thank you for not assuming that you have the upper hand. Yet thank you also for believing in the validity and importance of your own voice. I find your approach to theology, scholarship, and commentary to be inspiring.

I will be beginning an MA in Religious Studies at Chicago Theological Seminary in approximately four weeks and I am positively alive with anticipation for what this horizon may amount to. Thank you for your part in preparing me for what is ahead.

Your reader,
Aram Mitchell

(Last year Cox published The Future of Faith. I haven't read it, but it might be worth a look.)

s04e10

2010-08-07T18:33:00.000-07:00

I'm a little behind, I admit: just finished episode ten of West Wing's season four, the one where the Whiffenpoofs get snowed in at the White House, Danny Concannon shows up in a Santa suit, and Toby sort of reconnects with his father.

Also in this episode Will Bailey, up and coming Deputy Communications Director gets tested. The President, Chief of Staff, and Communications Director (three pretty powerful dudes) throw a curve ball issue at Bailey to see if he'll respond by "speaking truth to power".

Never mind the political particulars of the imaginary West Wing. Life on our side of the television's screen has a good supply of its own drama. And I wonder, that being considered, how truthful are we to the powers that be?

That's not to say that powerful guys are necessarily life's villains, but truth be told it can't hurt to keep even them accountable to the way of love. Go ahead. Use your voice.

keynote

2010-08-04T12:17:00.000-07:00

Hyun Kyung Chung created quite the spectacle at the 1991 general assembly of the World Council of Churches. As one of the keynote speakers, a role filled by a scholar or cleric offering an academically rigorous and emotionally engaging homily, Dr. Chung danced to the podium accompanied by nineteen fellow Korean dancers, two Aboriginal Australian dancers, bells, candles, drums, and didgeridoos.

Her speech opened with an invocation of the spirits of those killed by oppression, the spirits of the forest, the earth, the air, the sea and all its creatures, and "the spirit of the Liberator, Jesus Christ".

When accused of practicing syncretism (as opposed to a "pure" or "orthodox" style of Christianity) her response is, "I know I am a syncretist... [and if] you don't know you are a syncretist [it's] because you have hegemonic power."

Which is a fancy and feisty way of saying that we all shade our beliefs with colorful displays of our personal and cultural dispositions. Only some of us have been in the limelight for quite some time now and we've forgotten about the others who have historically been ushered backstage.

When those others step on stage, out of the margins, into the light: a) we're disoriented, b) we're possessive, or c) we notice their contribution to the color scheme.

"I think in order to really heal the world we need the wisdom of darkness. This can be the third world, dark people, women, or 'our shadows' (all the things we do not want to confront in ourselves)... I think that we need 'endarkenment' for a while, not enlightenment, to heal the world."

(I read about Dr. Chung's '91 address in "Fire From Heaven" by Harvey Cox)

burst

2010-07-25T07:46:00.000-07:00

You come from somewhere
someone's progeny
and fix yourself to his identity
or her breast
until you have the strength to stand apart and start
your search for the axis.

Looking high and low and in between
you can taste the dirt in a Wendell Berry poem
and feel the sparkle in the eye of a gnostic Christ.

Your body finds sex and
your soul finds your body and
your search for the center finds you.

Coming from somewhere thrust with a burst
into this world you lift your head
and stretch your legs
and open your heart to the unknown coming your way.

ruah

2010-07-23T11:35:00.001-07:00

Every once in a while -
When you're coasting downhill on your bicycle
You get a flat stone to skip five skips
A sip into your second glass of wine
The shutter on your camera shuts on a scene somewhat uncommon
A loaf of bread comes out just right
You hear your name spoken lovingly
When you dream a vivid dream
-you feel free.

To Whomever May Be Concerned:

2010-07-20T07:23:00.000-07:00

I find life to be easier when things are organized. I gravitate toward orderliness and do my best to pursue clarity and ward off chaos. But I also try to allow space for disorder to take place. I have a drawer in the kitchen that is solely for clutter. I have a file amongst my computer documents that is a miscellaneous catch all. Until recently my hair was matted and unkempt. I try not to finish every book that I start. My most treasured spiritual insight is that peace is possible despite unanswered questions.

“In the beginning” order emerged from chaos and – as I’m sure we’ve all experienced often enough – it returns to it from time to time. At the cosmic dawning, as with our own essence, there is a relationship between the two – between what is done and what is undone, between the structured surge of life/now and the unkempt disarray of what was or has yet to be.

Living with order and chaos at war within and all around us is one option. Seeking conscious communion of the two is another.

Favoring the latter I try to open myself to the value of each, even though one is more difficult for me than the other.

I find that I have done well. I’ve made progress. But one chasm I’ve yet to cross (to enter) is what to do when order in my relationships evades me.

Recently I’ve been haunted and distracted by other people’s sore spots. I have come to realize that who I am – persona/ideas/expression – is a disruptive force in some people’s lives. Whether they are threatened, concerned, or curious, and have communicated it with tact, passion, or silence it has become clear that several of my relationships are askew. And I feel responsible to do something about it.

I hesitate to throw them into a drawer full of clutter, or to file them away to glance at later. I don’t want them to get too tangled up. I don’t want to not finish something that I’ve started. I am tempted to devote all of my energy to smoothing things over and setting things straight. But I can’t.

I can’t because I lack the capacity.

But also because I have the potential for creative enterprises that require my energy, and I am entering a season where I long to give it to them.

If you are one of my friends feeling askew, threatened, concerned, or curious: I cannot assuage the threat you feel, nor salve your concern. But I may be able to engage your curiosity. This isn’t me checking out of these relationships. It’s me saying that if you have questions about me then I’d be glad to enter them with you, but I can’t answer them for you.

hard soul

2010-07-14T12:42:00.000-07:00

Also in TO, had a session of throat grinding, heart finding musical tutelage somewhere along Queen Street. Featuring champion busker and free fingered artist: DB Buxton.

coming out

2010-07-14T10:27:00.001-07:00

I was in Toronto last weekend, standing on Church Street talking with Aaron, whose family is Indian and Catholic. We were talking and he asked me if I have a girlfriend, to which I responded, “A wife, actually.” I asked him if he has a boyfriend, but he doesn’t. He said he has to be discreet. I wondered out loud if that was because of his family, and he said that, yes, it was. His family doesn’t know. He hasn’t come out yet.

I was standing there on Church Street thinking about Aaron’s discretion, and I thought that probably most of us have something or other that we haven’t come out about to our families. Which doesn’t suggest that Aaron’s situation (being gay in a family that disapproves of his orientation) isn’t uniquely difficult, because it is. It does, however, raise the question: Am I making it difficult for any of my loved ones to be honest about who they are?

love

2010-07-06T07:23:00.000-07:00

Moms and Dads give lots to their children. There are exceptions who don't. But most of them do and it's probably generally agreed upon that that's the way it should be.

Then every now and again there comes an opportunity for a son or a daughter to give a bit too.

And hopefully ultimately the flow of love between parent and offspring becomes as vigorously mutual as possible.

Click: part of the flow.

remembrance

2010-07-04T21:47:00.000-07:00

I am grateful for the country I reside in. And grateful for the folks who, taking initiative and making sacrifices and believing in the effectiveness of believing, had a hand in crafting the country it is.

Thanks to the soldiers and to the activists, the academics and the farmers, the politicians and the teachers, the journalists and the janitors, the rock stars and the IT guys (and gals). Not everyone does what they do with grace and poise and a heart full of hope. But some of you have. And lots of you do. Thanks to you.

Let's not forget to remember each other.

quest

2010-06-25T15:34:00.000-07:00

I have experienced an ongoing call to seek, a convincing impulse to reflect, and a persistent compulsion to express. I trust that the call is good, because it has been good. It has inspired me to quest for compassion, knowledge, integrity, and humanity.

I value this vocation. I consider it to be profound and true.

head

2010-06-24T12:39:00.001-07:00

G.K. Chesterton wrote, "The poet only asks to get his head into the heavens. It is the logician who seeks to get the heavens into his head."

And without deliberating as to which disposition is the better of the two, it's valuable to know which one you tend toward.

ownership

2010-06-14T15:34:00.000-07:00

Granted, I'm taking this out of context... but not very far out of it. And take my word, even in its context it did little else than reek of hubris while providing a distinct example of nationalistic pride gone askew.

Read from a periodical this evening, in an article that I think was trying to say that the U.S. is learning to appreciate soccer and that soccer's popularity is growing here, becoming more of a priority. It said it like this: "Face it, world: the U.S. is going to play, watch, market, manage and own your sport sooner or later."

Then it quoted someone at the head of the U.S. soccer force, "For good or for bad, America has always been the center of the universe, whether it's sports, culture, politics; so it makes sense that as soccer has exploded to become a true global sport, America would hop on the bandwagon."

I agree that America is hopping on the bandwagon, and a fine bandwagon it is, and a fine squad they have to do the hopping (I'm a big fan of Howard's tending prowess). But, dear me, soccer has not exploded to become a true global sport -- it is the global sport.

And I think that ownership is not determined by purchasing power (through marketing, managing, mass viewing, etc) but by the enthusiasm with which it is played.

Soccer -- the world's football -- is for all of us; possibly the one thing remaining that will always shed imperialistic robes for the sake of its own simplicity. Two goals and a ball. Heart, passion, celebration.

It tends to bring us together. I value soccer for that. Let's let it do what it will.

see

2010-06-11T19:52:00.000-07:00

Seeing something from where you are is quite natural and easy. Seeing that you see something from where you are is more difficult at times. It's good to perch every once in a while, to see as expansively as possible, to take a moment to value perspective.

grounded

2010-06-10T10:06:00.000-07:00

I value having a spot to sit and think, stop and feel, to stay put and let the business of a day pass through my consciousness leaving me more or less at ease with the way things are, situated.

habla

2010-06-09T13:11:00.000-07:00

I spent a lot of time the past few months talking with Jesus. I discovered that language is a luxury, helpful, but not a necessity. We saddled horses together, played soccer together, climbed trees, fixed leaky hoses, harvested bananas, shot the breeze -- all with minimal mutual vocabulary. Jesus spent even more time talking at me than I did at him. And he seldom slowed down to ensure my comprehension.

I'm back, feeling rinsed off by three months at the end of the road in southwest Costa Rica. Airing out for now in Indianapolis, recalling the summer days of my childhood, and sorting through the insights that piled up while I was away.

sabbatical

2010-03-08T21:22:00.000-08:00

Hey readers. For the next few months you won't hear much from me, but for the occasional photographic representation of my musings and the writing de mi esposa, visit this magical place.

Lapham

2010-02-06T07:47:00.000-08:00

While wondering the aisles of periodicals at one of a selection of large bookstores in the Indianapolis area the other day, dragging my heels to the exit, wanting only to linger amongst the words and images a little bit longer, but needing to return to the elements of the non-literary portions of life, my eyes stumbled onto something.

I had a gift card, a Christmas gift card with a snowman on it, that I had managed to hang on to up to that point. I fished it out of my wallet and traded it in: a book of Anne Sexton poetry for Lauren, and the most recent issue of Lapham's Quarterly for me.

LQ is edited by Lewis Lapham (Lapham's). Published four times a year (Quarterly). It adopts a topic each issue, this one hones in on religion. And it explores that topic throughout history by compiling a myriad of writings by figures, this time, ranging from Josephus to Nietzsche, from John Donne to Jon Edwards to John Updike to Jon Krakauer.

You can read some of the excerpts that I've been picking through at the LQ site.

hot topics

2010-01-30T19:22:00.000-08:00

I had an opportunity to guest teach for a group of peers at one of the local churches the other day. My dad is their usual teacher, and I've gotten to know them all quite well. We had a great time.
I had taken a poll the previous week to find out what they wanted me to teach about. I took in a few possible "lecture titles" and went with the one that got the most votes: "Selected Topics in Biblical Hermeneutics: Creation, Homosexuality, and Hell".
A few PowerPoint slides into it I had already made my main point which was, more or less, this: everyone who reads the Bible (or anything for that matter) interprets the Bible, there are a variety of options to be chosen from when it comes to shaping an interpretation, own your choices.
Which is to say, if you're confident enough to confess something with confidence then you owe it to the rest of us to trace its roots and track its implications. We all owe it to each other.
If you're interested in the selected topics themselves, I'd be glad to guest lecture at your venue of choice for a small fee and a complimentary lunch at Yats.

Then why?

2010-01-17T13:13:00.000-08:00

In light of the frustration I communicated in my last post what is it that keeps me, in one way or another, on the fringes of the religious realm?

Well, here's the thing:
Religions are human productions. Really, they are. People made them. Not deliberately, but people living life at certain times spread out all over the world and all throughout history contributed to the development of the religions.

It wasn't like an assembly line at the religion manufacturing plant where this person added this piece and that person added that piece and it all fit together to become one fancy final product.

It was more like how people make babies. Once upon a time people's questions about life coupled with the reality of their lives and a baby was conceived. This happened wherever people clustered together. Some of the baby's grew up to be strong and active in the world. Others grew up and kind of kept to themselves. Many of them had babies of their own. And several of them, to this day, have dissociative identity disorder.

What I'm interested in is how we, as parents, respond to our offspring. And, even if we don't have our own, how we respond to the presence (and actions) of other people's offspring.

I'm not interested in discussing whether or not such and such a religion should exist, or whether religion in general should be discontinued. In my opinion it's kind of too late for those questions. Religion is too much a part of the family, too much a part of the human story, to be rid of it. Not without a big mess.

Maybe it will come to that. Things are already a mess and maybe before we can clean things up we'll need to make a bigger mess. But an honest appraisal of what the world would be like -- for so many individuals, nations, and cultures -- if the rug of religion was pulled out from under them leads me to conclude that I am not prepared to be the one to tug.

I think we have a lot more to discuss before we go down that road. And if we all open ourselves up to discussion then maybe we won't have to.

Pushy religion

2010-01-12T19:34:00.000-08:00

Happy twenty ten. I've been struggling to come up with a bit to write here at the start of this new year. There are plenty of thoughts stirring, but not many taking shape, not the sort I'm interested in posting anyway.
So I've tapped the archives, found something I wrote a while back that I don't think I ever posted. It's a touch morose, but I hope (dare I say plan?) to offer some constructive and good tempered ponderings soon. Meanwhile...

I grow weary of this insistence: authentic faith requires either an attainment of certainty or the fervent pursuit of it.
It frustrates me. Why insist on answers? The questions will return, and the answer isn’t to answer them. The answer is to enter them.

Perhaps religion is nothing more than an institute dealing in the currency of answers.

Once upon a time religion dealt with questions. It didn’t answer them. I’m tired of religion that gives away its answers with the flash of a smile.

I’m tired of religion that offers certainty as a synonym for faith, sewing the two together with a cross-stitch. I find myself tearing at the resultant seams for a glimpse of light, a breath of air.

2009-12-21T09:31:00.000-08:00

However you do and whoever you are, as the days begin to lengthen, celebrate life this season. Thanks for reading.

Good cheer and happy tidings!

Peace. Shalom. Shanti.

An open letter to a bully

2009-12-15T15:47:00.000-08:00

Ms. Bully,

The moment you laid eyes on me you thought I was dumb, which was disheartening for me because I wholeheartedly disagree.

I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt at first by assuming that perhaps you were tired or sick, perhaps it was because you are old, or you are jealous that your office window lacks a scenic campus view. I met with three other professors in your department; they had lovely views, treated me cordially, and smiled a fair amount. You were mean.

I have tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but it is difficult for me to do so. I have concluded that, although you are old and you said that you were tired when I asked, “How are you today”, and as I recall the view from your office window does suck, you nonetheless decided in your heart to be neither kind nor encouraging to me when I visited with you the other day.

You see, I am trying to be a student again, seeking an academic program to enroll in for the fall. It has been a while since I was a student, nearly five years. I have never been a student in an institution like the one where you work. I come from a small pond. I am not the most qualified prospective – I haven’t read Plato or Nietzsche, and am unable to spell Nietzsche without assistance. But you could have known practically none of that when you first laid eyes on me, at which point you began to think that I am dumb.

What might you have known about me? And how might it have led you to that conclusion?

Was it because I am young? Surely not, unless you despise the youth of all of your students. I have tangled locks of hair and an unruly beard, I’ll confess to that. But haven’t many radical geniuses been equally unkempt? Perhaps you translated the look of anticipation on my face as a look of apprehension; perhaps you deduced from that look that I was out of my element. Ergo you dubbed me dumb?

I remain perplexed, Ms. Bully.

I was out of my element, but a big reason for my being so was that I am in search of my element. I was there by choice, and I was not uneasy about that.

I am not dumb and I am not a coward, but neither did I feel particularly motivated to prove these things to you when it was all too apparent that you were axiomatically convinced otherwise. I could have engaged you in rich academic conversation, I have the capacity, but since you thought I was faking from the get go I decided not to give you more fodder to supply your suspicions.

Is it possible that it was my intuition and not my lack of wit that kept me from engaging the disparaging questions and comments that you layered my way? I channeled Ishmael’s words that were commentary on his chief mate Starbuck, “that the most reliable and useful courage [is] that which arises from the fair estimation of the encountered peril”. And like Starbuck, for me “courage [is] not a sentiment, but a thing simply useful”. I would rather not use it to unravel unfounded assumptions.

Had it been an interview and you the determining voice I would have exited your office a failure. Which, incidentally, is also how I entered.

A brief admonition, made with the understanding that, given a reversal of power and position, I might do (or have on occasion done) the same thing. In other words this is an admonition to the bully-potential that each of us walks through our days with:

Don’t be mean to people. It’s okay to be honest and lucid, to be direct and realistic, but have the courage and humanity to also meet the other where they are. Take a quick look at the world through their eyes, especially when the way you see them through yours is less than genial. And give them the benefit of the doubt.

I’ll try, again, to do the same for you.

And everyone remember that bullies aren’t scary. Just a different kind of scared.

Sincerely, your prospective student,

AJM

rigidly gooey

2009-11-24T15:36:00.000-08:00

I’m moving tomorrow. So naturally I’ve been reflecting on what this season has contributed to life, what I have accomplished and experienced. Between exploring the mountain bike trails that Toronto has to offer, snuggling in for an episode of Mad Men accompanied by a bowl of the gourmet popcorn that Lauren got for her birthday, and stopping into Soma at the Distillery District for a cup of Mayan hot chocolate (i.e. the experiences) I have been working diligently on several applications for graduate school (i.e. the accomplishments).

I am applying for an MA in Religion. After I get these credentials, and maybe a few more, I am going to become a great teacher and change the world. But first I need credentials.

One portion of each application is a statement of interest, a concise essay that is meant to discuss what it is that the applicant is academically into and how it is that the particular program being applied to can both provide for and benefit from the applicant’s area of focus. In this scenario I am the applicant and it’s a pretty straightforward process.

Nonetheless, writing that statement was an intense emotional and intellectual undertaking for me. It couldn’t be too gooey, laden with details about my religious upbringing and personal development. But neither could I allow it to be too cold, rigidly treating the topic as if I was in no way personally invested, as if it was strictly a conceptual undertaking. Ultimately I just had to write it, finish it, without picking it apart too much. I had to make a statement and rest contented with it. I did, and I’m pleased. We’ll see how effective it is come next March and April when the un/acceptance letters start pouring in.

In the meantime I have the residual sensations to sort through. In the process of writing I did explore my religious history and I did examine my current concept of religion. How did I move from the religious expressions that I learned as a child toward the specific interest in religion that I have today? Can both continue to serve me professionally? Personally? Must I denounce the boundaries I grew up with in order to explore beyond them? If I do, may I still honestly be grateful for my religious heritage?

Most of these questions I have answered for myself already, but not publicly, at least not directly. Much of this blog recently has been a public attempt to indirectly betray the fact that I am entertaining questions like these. I think I want to be more direct in future posts. Thanks for reading in the meantime.

quick read

2009-11-10T10:27:00.000-08:00

Here's a great article pertaining to the New Atheist conversation a few of us engaged in a few posts back, an article by Newsweek's Lisa Miller: http://www.newsweek.com/id/219009

My podcast experiment

2009-11-01T09:33:00.000-08:00

Over the past couple of months I’ve significantly increased my podcast intake. A couple of trips between Toronto and Indianapolis, as well as a fair bit of time spent strolling the urban terrain of the greater Toronto area has afforded me sufficient time to expand my listening. It’s been a worthwhile and informative endeavor, leaving me more confident in conversation. I often feel now that I have a thing or two to contribute regarding politics, culture, spirituality, or any of a number of interesting topics.

This week I decided to do an experiment. I spent a few minutes browsing for podcasts that would represent opposing perspectives on a particular theme. I chose religion, but any theme would have sufficed I’m sure.

By the end of my research I had sniffed out three free podcasts with an apologetic bent; podcasts which function primarily as a resource for defending certain Christian beliefs against secular threats. According to my understanding the ones I selected all represent, while of course not exhaustively, a conservative evangelical approach to Christianity.

Then I uncovered a few representatives from the opposite end of the spectrum, podcasts that advocated atheism and free thought. I downloaded some random episodes from their archives as well.

At the outset I was not interested in entering too deeply into the actual content of the episodes I listened to, because much of it engaged material that I’ve entertained in other ways at other times. Instead I was listening for tone and approach. And in that regard I found, for the most part, that the broadcasters were quite similar to one another regardless of what they were advocating.

What I had set up in my mind as a boxing match between apologists and atheists ended up being rather an absurd choreographed dance. A mental picture in which the boxers pranced about unaware of one another, beating their fists against the air with smirks of confidence spread across their face.

As a representative from either side of a debate it’s easy to be more interested in defending our propositions against perceived threats than it is to demonstrate ways that our views can contribute to a beneficial style of living.

It’s also common to be so set on attacking the opposition that we fail to recognize the ways in which listening to our opponents may actually contribute to our own formation.

Defending one’s perspective is by no means a thing to be criticized, but the attitude of defensiveness and victimization with which it is so often done is a juvenile habit. And although articulating one’s worldview is a necessary piece of social interaction and personal growth, to do so in a way that degrades another person is blatantly arrogant and intemperate.

I am learning to be more honest with others, and myself, by acknowledging that there are things I think with some degree of stability. I do have strong beliefs, and I’m often stubborn about them. My desire in this, however, is to grow in both honesty and patience. I want to recognize that when I propose a statement of belief it is only reasonable to do so if extended conscientiously and compassionately, because compassion is the soil that my beliefs are rooted in.

sacred blunders

2009-10-13T13:56:00.000-07:00

I recently finished reading a book called, Misquoting Jesus by Bart Ehrman, a professor and distinguished scholar of early Christianity and the New Testament.

Ehrman spent time in conservative circles (attracted to the Bible by Young Life initiatives, studying at Moody Bible Institute and Wheaton College) but ultimately pitched camp toward the liberal end of things.

His work focuses on textual criticism as it pertains to the New Testament writings. Textual criticism is a method of approaching literary sources that have come to us from a succession of manuscripts… or, a way to study old books. Before the printing press was invented books were copied by hand. Not surprisingly a lot of the hand-copied manuscripts of any old book prove to be riddled with “errors”.

I put errors in quotes because that’s just it, to have an error there has to be a standard from which something must stray. But what textual criticism points out, and attempts to sort out, is that we have lots of manuscripts (copies of portions of books, sometimes entire books) that all vary from one another in all sorts of different ways. There often isn’t a standard or “original” text to which we could compare the hand made copies.

This isn’t just the case with Shakespeare plays and Plato’s Republic. This is the case with the Bible as well, or more accurately, with the books of the Bible. In fact, when it comes to the books of the Bible there are no remaining originals; all we have access to are the copies… actually, copies of copies of copies, etc.

Textual criticism enters the scene and does its best to sort through the thousands of variations within the manuscripts to decipher which reading is probably the most accurate, which reading is closest to what the original author wrote (or said, in the case of a dictated book).

It’s quite a wild ride if you really get into it. The variations are more often than not pretty inconsequential (grammatical slip ups and what not), but there are some controversial bits as well, most of which Ehrman is glad to point out in his assortment of very accessible books.

On a lighter note here's an example of one of those variations, as quoted from Misquoting Jesus:

[Of all the many thousands of accidental mistakes made in our manuscripts, probably the most bizarre is one that occurs in a minuscule manuscript of the four Gospels officially numbered 109, which was produced in the fourteenth century. Its peculiar error occurs in Luke, chapter 3, in the account of Jesus’ genealogy. The scribe was evidently copying a manuscript that gave the genealogy in two columns. For some reason, he did not copy one column at a time, but copied across the two columns. As a result, the names of the genealogy are thrown out of whack, with most people being called the sons of the wrong father. Worse still, the second column of the text the scribe was copying did not have as many lines as the first, so that now, in the copy he made, the father of the human race (i.e., the last one mentioned) is not God but an Israelite named Phares; and God himself is said to be the son of a man named Aram!]

It’s probably best to keep manuscript 109 out of print. Otherwise it might go to my head.

follow up: Islamophobia

2009-10-05T13:51:00.000-07:00

If you haven’t yet, please read Sub-sub-librarian’s comment on my Islamophobia post. This post is a response to Subsub’s insightful contribution, but hopefully not the final word… put on your thinking cap and join in! You don’t even have to know all the names of all the people, or all the meanings to all the words. God knows I don’t! [That last sentence becomes potentially ironic as you read further.]

Subsub,
Thank you so much for your generous and thoughtful comment. I appreciate the honest and moderate nature of your critique of Eagleton's argument. I confess that I too have some reading to do regarding the New Atheist conversation, more so than you.
Meanwhile, I especially appreciate your differentiation between the New Atheists, such as Dawkins and Hitchens, and the novelists Rushdie and Amis. It is certainly necessary to distinguish between the differing agendas represented by each of these individuals.

This deviates from the point of your comment, but I have a thought that was sparked by, “…can you blame [anyone] for having a beef with [any religion] what with [the multitude of irrational injustices it has conjured up] and all”. Indeed no. No one should be blamed for the personal ways that they take issue with institutions that have caused them harm. I do think, however, that one must be careful when taking issue with a religion as a whole, especially in the public sphere. Taking issue with the broad entity of "Islam", for example, is different from taking issue with the more specific entity of a particular political or extremist expression of "Islam". The very nature of religion today is complex and multi-representative -- one religion can represent an array of individuals and agendas. This isn't necessarily a good thing, but it is the reality.

Therefore, one of the primary tasks of INTer-religious dialog is to explore and catalog the myriad of religious expressions; perhaps going so far as to dismiss as inaccurate the manifestations of religion that do not align with the seeds of mutuality and compassion that can be found within religious texts, rituals, and traditions. And one of the primary tasks of INNer-religious dialog is for representatives of a particular religion to explore and account for the expressions of that religion, and where necessary labor to transform and redeem harmful expressions.

Returning to your comment regarding theology, you are right that it is not an empirical science. I think a distinction between theology and apologetics would be helpful, with theology being the logos/study of theos/God, and apologetics being the apologia/defense of God. The former is the establishment of an ongoing discourse and the latter is an attempt to provide some sort of empirical proof of the existence of God.

Traditionally Christian theology has included apologetics as one of its offspring. But perhaps the apple in this case has fallen a bit too far from the tree. There are representatives from both sides of the New Atheist debate that approach theology as if it is a verifiable science. Apologists do this, and so do some proponents of atheism. The debate then becomes about whether or not theology is a viable verifiable science. But in fact theology is a conceptual endeavor. To enter into theological study in the first place, whether for or against the concept of God, one must surrender the compulsion to attempt proving or disproving God’s existence.

Theology isn’t about whether or not there is a God, but about what kind of God there is if there is one.

One should approach the subject of the debate (God) by way of the more tangible conduits of divine experience. Human beings. We need to move away from a debate about whether or not God exists, and toward an effort to understand the ways in which divine experience (supposed or actual) affect our social and relational interactions. How does God (whether or not God is real) influence the way people live and act? Can people who believe in God and people who don’t do so in a way that motivates them to live mutually beneficial lives?

There are concepts of God that do need to be discontinued, because of the hostile and sometimes fatal affect that they have in the world. Science can contribute to this task, religion is by no means off limits to any kind of scientific inquiry, but ultimately the task must be accomplished by a discipline that is suitable to the subject, by theology.

I just added, “Breaking the Spell” (by: Daniel Dennett, for those interested) to my Amazon wish list, I anticipate it being a valuable contribution to my exploration of religion as the multi-faceted phenomenon that is it.
Thanks again. You are most erudite.

Islamophobia

2009-10-02T13:03:00.000-07:00

Something I came across on The Immanent Frame blog which is itself something that I recently came across, strikes an interesting thought and an intriguing cultural phenomenon:

http://blogs.ssrc.org/tif/2009/10/01/arnold-eisen-and-terry-eagleton-discuss-reason-faith-and-revolution/

En route to some homemade pizza or else I'd write more, but I have my priorities...

a spectrum of literacy

2009-09-14T10:39:00.000-07:00

Now I'm in Toronto, the city of layers and contrasts. One of the few places where I welcome the concrete beneath my feet and the steel and glass structures around me. I've seen a fair chunk of the northeastern states since I wrote last from Gloucester City, and experienced hospitality from a good many friends. And I had a refreshing visit with my family in Nova Scotia, feasting daily at my mother's table, and partaking in the pleasantries of her company and habitat.
In my absence from posting I have been reading (and sometimes listening to) good books (and an occasional poor one). So as a maneuver of reentry I offer an assortment of abstracts and some subtle recommendations.

Have read:

The Bible: A Biography, by Karen Armstrong -- It is just that, a biographical look at the Biblical canon. Armstrong addresses the stages of development behind the various books that were compiled to make the Bible as it is today. She gives special attention to the individuals who were catalytic in that development, as well as those who influenced the progression of how the Bible (in its final form) has been and is perceived and interpreted. In light of the distorted and toxic ways in which the Bible is frequently used (whether as a justification for the violence of war or of attitudes of sexism, entitlement or intolerance, amongst other things) Armstrong suggests a compassionate hermeneutic. She references the approach espoused by Augustine, the church father, and Hillel, the Jewish rabbi, that "any interpretation of scripture that spreads hatred and dissension is illegitimate; all exegesis must be guided by the principle of charity."

Teacher Man, by Frank McCourt -- McCourt is an Irish man who immigrated to the United States and taught literature in the New York public school system for 30 years. I listened to (most of) the audio version, performed by McCourt himself. "Dead Poet's Society" meets an Irish accent. On his first day of class one student threw a bologna sandwich at another student, in response McCourt ate the sandwich. It's not so much that he was committed to his unconventional approach to education and crowd control tactics, as it was that he knew no other way. The book is an account of his improvisational career, a delight and, for those of us inclined to the possibility of becoming educators, an inspiration.

We Are Extremely Very Good Recyclers, by Lauren Child -- Meet Charlie, the warmhearted and amicable British school boy, and his little sister Lola, who is articulate in her own way and very funny. "Veggie Tales" quivers in the shadow of Lauren Child's creation. "Baby Einstein" needs to get up or move over. Here comes a multi-media sibling duo with enough charisma and charm to, quite possibly, actually make the world a better place.

Man Without a Country, by Kurt Vonnegut -- The man earned the right to write this book. A collection of final rants, complete with the unabashed honesty and raw humor that Vonnegut is loved, nay followed, for. If you want a gentle nudge toward the appreciation of socialism, or if you're tired of war and gas guzzling SUV's, then you might find a handy bit of solidarity from the beloved chain-smoking, sci-fi writing, cultural commentating Hoosier. God (whom Vonnegut seemed to have a strained but working relationship with) rest him.

Cry, the Beloved Country, by Alan Paton -- Set in South Africa just shy of the institution of apartheid, Paton's novel follows the unlikely story of two men whose sons have a tragic chance encounter. It's a story about family and home and the struggle of faith. But the setting somehow carries the plot beyond itself, and superimposes it onto any and all occasions, historical and contemporary, of segregation. It is a plea for hope, that humans might overcome or outlive our tendency toward segregation, replacing hierarchy with mutuality. It is also a sincere acknowledgment of the suffering that has occurred and is inevitable along the way.

Reading:

Runaways, by Brian Vaughn & Adrian Alphona -- It reminds me of "Newsies" in a way. The Marvel version, without any music. The parents turn out to be super villains. The offspring run away, discover their own unnatural gifts and abilities, and unite with super-angst to set right the world's wrongs. There's also a velociraptor from the future.

That's Not What I Meant, by Deborah Tannen -- A little paperback psychology book about the linguistics of conversations. With this book I am attempting to acquire and fine tune my very own superpower.

Jesus Wants to Save Christians, by Rob Bell & Don Golden -- A good use of the biblical narrative, the way it should be done: as a progression, as good literature, with themes and irony and complex characters. Part way into the audio version and already I'm applauding.

Crossings

2009-08-08T07:07:00.000-07:00

Currently we're in New Jersey, here to celebrate (and participate) in our friends' wedding. Yesterday while Lauren was performing bridesmaid duties I had the opportunity to shadow my new friend Nate as he trouped around town. Nate had to pick up some dry cleaning and check his PO box, but en route he swung me past a few establishments to check in on some friends of his, all the while he offered me a crash course, entry level education regarding the social, racial, and economic situation of some of the neighborhoods east of Philadelphia.

Gloucester City and Camden, New Jersey function (or disfunction) as a sort of microcosm of some of the macro-issues in the world at large; including attitudes of prejudice and racism, habits of drug abuse, and the gentrification of select areas corresponding with the neglect of others. What I find most striking from the exposure to these areas and their demographics is the distinct border that Nate pointed out to me which separates Gloucester City (97% White) from Camden (53% Black or African American and 38% Hispanic or Latino). It's a simple bridge. On one side is Gloucester City and on the other is Camden. It takes about three seconds to cross it in a car.

The issue, of course, is not the geographical border.

As a peacemaker and an architect for unity (some people call him a pastor) Nate considers it his task to prod people toward crossing borders. Certainly the geographic ones, so that we can be in the same place, eating with one another, playing with and living along side of each other; but also the many borders that we establish in our hearts and our ideologies toward others.

And if perhaps we are quite sure that we have established no such borders, let's consider that perhaps there are borders we have inherited that must be crossed even before we can recognize them as debilitating to the pursuit of a healthy humanity.

To see a bit more of what Nate and his cronies are up to in the greater Philadelphia area you can go to http://circleofhope.net/blog/

And if you are in or interested in the Indianapolis area I have some cronies who are doing similar border crossings in the Fountain Square vicinity. Their web-presence is on the horizon.

quotes: in pursuit of an us

2009-07-01T16:31:00.000-07:00

At the heart of all authentic, healthy, life-sustaining religions, one always finds this clear requirement. Whatever religious people may say about their love of God or the mandates of their religion, when their behavior toward others is violent and destructive, when it causes suffering among their neighbors, you can be sure the religion has been corrupted and reform is desperately needed. When religion becomes evil, these corruptions are always present. Conversely, when religion remains true to its authentic sources, it is actively dismantling these corruptions, a process that is urgently needed now. Unlike generations that have gone before us, the consequences today of corrupted religion are both dire and global.
Charles Kimball in When Religion Becomes Evil

The challenge today is to seek a unity that celebrates diversity, to unite the particular with the universal, to recognize the need for roots while insisting that the point of roots is to put forth branches. What is intolerable is for difference to become idolatrous. When absolutized, nationalism, ethnicity, race, and gender are reactionary impulses. They become pseudoreligions, brittle and small, without the power to make people great. No human being's identity is exhausted by his or her gender, race, ethnic origin, or national loyalty. Human beings are fully human only when they find the universal in the particular, when they recognize that all people have more in common than they have in conflict, and that it is precisely when what they have in conflict seems overriding that what they have in common needs most to be affirmed. Human rights are more important than the politics of identity, and religious people should be notorious boundary crossers.
William Sloane Coffin in A Passion for the Possible

The traditional form of Western scholarship in the study of other [religious traditions] was that of an impersonl presentation of an "it." The first great innovation in recent times has been the personalization of the faiths observed, so that one finds a discussion of a "they." Presently the observer become personally involved, so that the situation is one of a "we" talking about a "they." The next step is a dialogue where "we" talk to "you." If there is listening and mutuality, this may become that "we" talk with "you." The culmination of the process is when "we all" are talking with each other about "us."
Wilfred Cantwell Smith

my recent reading list

2009-06-29T06:29:00.000-07:00

A Short History of Myth, by Karen Armstrong
I read this already. It's accessible (perhaps even more so than her other books, due, if nothing else, to the length -- it is short and concise and informative). It's contents resound harmonically with what I wrote about in my "follow up (part two)" post. I recommend it especially for people interested in stories of origin, sacred stories/parables, history, art and literature. I recommend it for anyone who is a story teller; whether a parent who story tells to a child at bedtime, or a preacher who story tells from the pulpit.

When Religion Becomes Evil, by Charles Kimball
I'm bouncing toward the finish as I turn the pages of the final chapter. Almost literally bouncing, it's been such an exciting read for me. I was caught by the title while browsing the library shelves, because I have this thing: I value religion. As one who values religion I am sensitive to the instances in life when religion is discarded. The title of Kimball's book struck me in such a way that I assumed its contents to be in keeping with such a message -- religion is a fertile breeding ground for malevolent conduct, therefore be rid of it. On the contrary however, Kimball writes out of his vast experience in the realm of religious study and practice, indeed about when religion becomes evil, when it is manifested in corrupt form (and we'd do well to heed the reality of such forms of religion). But he approaches the topic with a hopeful, rather than cynical, bent suggesting that an authentic understanding of religion, an accurate examination of the heart of the major religious traditions, is both helpful and necessary in our globalizing world today. What I appreciate most about this book is Kimball's tone, which is gentle, fair, and compelling.

The World's Religions, by Huston Smith
(Sort of, it's the illustrated version, abridged a bit.) I haven't begun yet. As I continue to read in this field I intend to offer some posts that might help with the process of what I mentioned above: pursuing an authentic understanding and accurate examination of the diverse religious traditions worldwide (and, like it or not, next door).

It is not necessary for us to agree with our neighbors or to have the same experience as our neighbors. What is important is that we put forth an honest effort at understanding our neighbors, this is the first step toward loving them well. In order to understand our neighbors the surest approach would be to live alongside of them -- to eat and work and play and talk with them, to listen to their stories and share our own. Yet one of the obstacles many of us face today is the wall of religious (mis)understanding. We do not know how to (or if we should) entertain relationship with those (individually and often communally) who seem so starkly different from us. The exposure that we get from the media regarding religion is almost exclusively honed in on the corrupt manifestations (religiously motivated violence and conflict and war). Yet there is much more to be gleaned from religion than corruption and misunderstanding.
It requires energy, humility, and, more than anything else, courage to enter into the process of pursuing mutual understanding and reconciling relationships -- whether the table we're sitting at is explicitly religious, or political or ethnic or economical (or as is most often the case some assortment of each of these elements). But it's worth the energy -- because these people are your brothers and sisters. And we don't need to feel threatened by each other -- because each of you have a voice that can not be silenced. And there's nothing to be afraid of -- because diversity is at the heart of the dynamic peace that is God's intention and plan for our world.
Now some of us don't believe in God, some of us think we are gods, most of us who do believe in God don't agree on God. My point isn't to suggest one scheme of divinity over another. What I'm pointing at is the possibility beyond the plight that is far more evident and proximate than any of us are comforatable with. That possibility of peace (whole peace, shalom and shanti peace) will require everything: more than our honest efforts alone, and more than our fervent prayers alone, and more than our deepest hope and strongest faith alone. It requires everything of us and everything of everything.

hermeneutics in a different discipline

2009-06-25T16:32:00.000-07:00

I'm not particularly savvy when it comes to political matters. So I don't mean to open up a discussion that I'm not personally able to engage in. However, I sensed some similarities in a brief article I read about interpretive theory as it pertains to the USA's constitution (http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=105439966&ft=1&f=1001), and the art of interpretation (hermeneutics) as it pertains to sacred scriptures.. in my experience specifically: the Hebrew Bible and the Christian New Testament.
I feel strongly that there is a lot of value in considering any authoritative document as a living thing, not static or fixed, but adaptable, active, and alive. This is a tradition of thought that I was exposed to early in my education regarding the Bible, through passages that actually came from the Bible (such as 2 Timothy 3.16 that compares sacred scripture to the breathing of God or the wind that God blows into our lives to propel us along the good route of living right) and from the influences of my teachers and mentors who read scripture and applied it (adapted it to relate) to personal matters, things that mattered to them or me or us.
As a dear friend of mine pointed out during a recent stint of camping and exploring amongst the elements of the natural world: while much around us seems to be fixed and established and still from our perspective (such as the ground we walk and sleep on, the rocks we lean against, the words we read) they are actually in perpetual motion. A sort of momentum or current carries them along, with us, in a frightening-comforting cosmic chaotic divine dance.

follow up (part two)

2009-06-11T16:47:00.000-07:00

I want to offer a revision to one of my recent posts. In "VI. Jesus" I said that I don't believe in the ascension of Jesus. That's not entirely true, and I apologize for the misleading that such a statement could cause.
It's a fact that I don't believe that the historical Jesus actually levitated into the sky and broke through the stratosphere en route to the heavenly corner of outer space.
But I do believe that the Bible's story (referenced in Mark 16, Luke 24, and Acts 1) about the ascension of Jesus is true.
To say that something is true is more than (not less than) saying that something happened.

The story of Jesus' ascent expresses his "new level of spiritual attainment", his "transcendence and liberation from the constraints of the human condition", and his always-presence in our explorations of what it means to become fully human, fully alive, eternally alive. (quoted words borrowed from Karen Armstrong, the italics are my addition)
I am compelled and encouraged by this story that I believe tells the truth.

This sort of approach raises questions for some people.

For instance, "If you do away with the story of the ascension [or in a lot of similar conversations the story at hand is that of creation as contained in both Genesis 1 and 2, but the point is...] what's to keep you from doing away with Jesus' resurrection? or miraculous birth? or his divinity? or the sending of the Holy Spirit? or the promise of heaven after life as we know it has come to an end?"

In response I ask that it be considered once again whether such an approach does indeed do away with the story? Does the truth contained in the story require that each event happened in a literal fashion? If your answer is "yes" then please hold to that truth, hold to it in the fashion that your heart and conscience necessitates. And if mine is "no" please understand that you and I have a hold of the same truth, though our grip may differ.

Another question is, "Who are you [insert my name, or someone else perhaps] to decide what is to be taken literally and what isn't?

Indeed, point well made, I completely agree and readily refrain (and hope that anyone else would do the same) from assuming such authority.
The task of seeking understanding and direction from one's sacred scriptures belongs to the community that holds those scriptures as authoritative. That community must use both scholarship and common sense, must heed the voices of academic experts, qualified clerical leaders, and committed believers. It is also the responsibility of the community to corporately heed the voices of those who are often marginalized and silenced.

Only as part of such an ongoing conversation will scripture become alive with its full potential to guide in the way of love and truth. Only then will it silence the chatter of the minority that uses religion as a justification for violence, and the babble of those who sell certainty as a synonym for faith. Only then will it equip and enable its followers to live in a manner corresponding with the hope available in its words.

follow up (part one)

2009-06-11T16:45:00.001-07:00

I have finished my project of episodic posts pertaining to myself and the Christian paradigm(s). Chipping away at a theology of sorts, by no means managing (or trying) to find the final word on theology's subject, who is mystery beyond all else, and who does more crafting on us than we on her or him.
I've had the opportunity to dialogue with some of my readers who have felt confused, and some who have felt concerned, by portions of some of the posts. And that's ok, some confusion is to be expected, partly because this stuff goes deep in us, but also because my chisel here is language. Not facial expression or vocal inflection. Not situational or direct relational context. Just English words wrapped around images and ideas.
I enjoy language, all it's nuances and capabilities -- it's un/subtle tools that enable us to communicate with one another -- yet I also have a lot of respect for the limits of language. The ways it allows for and contributes to mis-communication.
The ideas I've shared lack context for many of my readers. They lack the history in which they've developed -- both outside of me (by way of books, classes, trips, conversations, poems, prayers, sermons, speeches, interviews, and essays) and inside of me (the pace at which these ideas have come to me, or I to them, personally). The full story of my experiences with these sources of influence and their place in my life isn't something that I can recount completely. And since the story of where I've been is incomplete, so to is the communication of where I am.

I would like to offer a clarification nonetheless -- again, not for the sake of agreement or consensus, or even for the sake of understanding in and of itself. But for the process of trying, and simply because I'm having a great time writing.
My clarification has two parts: (part one) some back ground thought, a canvas, and (part two) a revision to one of my posts...

(part one)

To believe that a thing is true does not necessitate a corresponding belief in the literal, actual, historical occurrence of the thing.

That truth requires something to be verified as historical or believed in as literal is a relatively young concept, and by no means universally practiced. It's sort of the brain child of the age of enlightenment and the era of modernity. A result of the incestuous coupling of scientific method with religious or existential concerns.

To apply scientific methodology to our endeavors in biological or psychological study is entirely appropriate and yields good and informative fruit. To apply it to historical and archaeological study, to ecology and neurology, to chemistry and physics is good.
Our use of observation, forethought, and reason is as old as our earliest inventions. Our first tools and the discipline of agriculture resulted from these qualities, so have moon landings and photographs and our ability to purify water.

To address things of a religious, moral, or relational nature with the methods of science, however, is not helpful in the end -- square hole, triangle block -- it doesn't fit.

Both are about life. About what's around us and what comes at us through our senses. And sometimes about what's beyond us, which can't be directly sensed. Both are about happenings.
"Why did that happen?" -- Science wonders what sorts of causes led up to a certain event.
"Why did that happen?" -- Religion wonders what purpose there is, or can be found, in a certain event.
"How did we get here and where are we going?" -- Science assumes that the ball is already rolling, that we can measure the ball, we can decipher where it has rolled from by examining the trail it has left, and we can predict how and where it will continue to roll depending on various influential factors.
"How did we get here and where are we going?" -- Religion also assumes that something or someone got the ball rolling, and it crafts, compiles, and sustains narratives and rituals that help us to cope with and celebrate the rolling of the ball.

We could try to do away with science, but we'd be cutting out an important innovative and inventive portion of our nature as humans.
We could try to do away with religion, but we'd be severing ourselves (if not personally then collectively) from a part of us that is thoughtful, feeling, and imaginative.

These two are not at odds within us, neither do they need to be at odds externally. Rather than going to the extreme of ridding ourselves completely of one of these important elements in the human story, or trying to marry two things that are not meant to be married (though they make great friends), we'd do well to commit our energies to a couple of other tasks.
One: being rid of the corrupt forms of religious expression that manifest themselves either ridiculously (best case scenario) or violently (worst case scenario).
Two: refraining from the contemporary compulsion to deify our rational abilities at the cost of sacrificing our emotional abilities, which has the potential to (best case scenario) lead to a biting skepticism and (worst case scenario) create a context for... you guessed it, violence.

VI. Jesus

2009-06-05T16:12:00.000-07:00

My trail mates and I have returned from the Paria Canyon. Her curves were intoxicating, aquatic and feminine. Her touch luminous and chilling. Her presence was a grip and it calmed the core with soothing tones. I feel great.
And now it's time again for some of my ink to spill into the internet, the web, that unknown expanse of nothingness that somehow holds all of these words and interactions we have.

Jesus of Nazareth.
A miracle baby with a big story: the carpenter turned rabbi, the rabbi turned revolutionary, the revolutionary turned religious icon.
I wonder at times if, as a religious icon, Jesus wishes he might have avoided that last stage of his evolution and remained a revolutionary? Inspiring change and rebuking indifference in the lives and hearts of the men and women who gathered around him.
I wonder, in his revolutionary days, if Jesus may have thought fondly back on the simplicity of his teaching days? A rabbi telling stories and offering anecdotes pertaining to matters of living in a harsh and humorous world.
And as a rabbi might Jesus have reminisced about his father's workshop? Where with his hands busy and tongue still he experienced the luxury of practicing a craft.

It's no wonder Jesus often withdrew to lonely places. We have overwhelmed him with our demands: "Teach us." "Inspire us." "Save us."

What is a wonder is that Jesus comes around any more at all, that Jesus ever returned from the lonely places. He must have loved doing what he did: incarnating love, befriending the friendless, touching the untouchables, partying with the partiers; amongst other things.
I believe in Jesus' resurrection, but not his ascension. I don't think heaven is a place in the sky that Jesus could or would have ascended to. I don't like the idea of a satellite Jesus, an outer space Jesus, a Jesus in orbit.
I like the idea of a shekinah Jesus, a Jesus who wandered off in the midst of the scandal of his return from the dead, and who has been amongst us in one way and another ever since. Yes in spirit as a teacher and revolutionary and religious icon. But with his body as well. Biting his tongue and using his hands and still making friends, loving humanity, loving life.

(intermission II.)

2009-05-27T20:53:00.000-07:00

I'll be carrying my journal with me during the next week, along with all of life's other essentials, and a handful of luxuries (pipe, dark chocolate, Sierra Designs' down moccassins). My lover and I, along with two other couples, and a single guy who is comfortable enough in his own skin to make the journey with we three pairs, are flying to Vegas in the morning, and by various means making our way to Wire Pass -- a trail head in Utah that points us toward the Paria River which we'll find and follow for five days or so until it shoves us into the Colorado near Lee's Ferry in Arizona.
The wireless signals are just weak enough in the canyon that I'll not be bothering to bring a lap top with me. I'll complete my "Christian Enterprise and I" series of posts upon my return with a word or two on Jesus. But I'll be writing in my journal, real inky words, while I'm away, and eager to continue to share the words I'm finding that express my way of being in this very diverse and beautiful, often troubling, and more often surprising world of ours.
I'll be walking with some dear friends, listening for Creator's rhythms, noting the expanse of desert and sky. Not missing the keyboard or screen. It's going to be good. You should let me show it to you some day. Let me know when, I'll put together a trip for you.
Peace to you. Shalom.

V. God

2009-05-27T15:59:00.001-07:00

is love.

IV. b.

2009-05-23T13:26:00.001-07:00

"Sin" is missing from the list of Christian particulars that I presented in my "Christian Enterprise and I" post, but I guess I have something to say about it.

It's like this: I have a friend, he is a homosexual and he worships with a conservative evangelical Christian congregation, he is in a monogamous relationship, the father of two, and a self-identified sinner. But homosexuality is not his sin, any more than heterosexuality is mine.
Hypothetically let's say that pornography is a sin. Straight porn will get you a spiritual time out every bit as much as gay porn, won't it?

We've got ourselves all tangled up in the pre-fixes (homo-sexuality, hetero-sexuality) and we're having a hard time finding common ground. But it's there, right after the "o" in both terms, and it's something we can all relate to. Libido and lust, expression and repression, we've all tapped in, to some extent, to the realm of the sexual. We have to, we're bodies, we have sexual things built right into us. (If you're having trouble relating to this, maybe you're in the repression category, that's ok, been there; go ahead and say it, "I am sexual." Excellent now say what the things are, say them both loud and clear, "PENIS," good, the other one too...don't be shy...starts with a "v" and it's not a dirty word...v...v...V, "VAGINA," there, that's a good start.)

Our sexuality, as an essential part of our humanity, has the potential to unite us, but we've done with it what we do with pretty much everything else: we've figured out a way to make sexuality divisive. And that's a sin.

Sin is an addiction to a substance, any substance will do. It is an attitude more than an item on a list. (Our Catholic sisters and brothers, however, do have a good list of attitudes and addictions that's worth a moment or two of your contemplation, as are their corresponding opposites.) The addiction that I see as the linchpin in most of what ails us (most scenarios of violence, hatred, and fear) is our addiction to the comfort we find from the cliques that bolster our identities. You see what I'm saying? This can be racial or religious (resulting in lots of violence and hatred, affecting our history and global relations), or it can originate from something else, like our idea of what's fashionable or our areas of giftedness (resulting in lots of meanness and locker-stuffing, affecting our middle schools, high schools and global relations).

I'm not dogging diversity, not in the least. As far as I'm concerned our various identities are as essential to our humanity as our sexuality is. (Say it, "I'm a Christian." "I'm a Jew." "I'm Hindu." "I'm Hispanic." "I'm gay." "I'm an athlete." "I'm a businesswoman." "I am Canadian.") I am for diversity. I am against the tendency we have to cushion our reality; to build a wall that isolates us and allows us to ignore our neighbor. The way to break down the wall is not by relinquishing our identity, but by exploring it to it's very source. If we all do that we'll probably find a thing or two in common -- humans, residents of the earth. If we begin there we might learn something valuable from another person's very different experience as a resident of the earth.

So sin is anything that allows us to utterly disregard the ubiquitous other.

P.S. The idea that homosexuality in all of its manifestations is a sin, that needs to be dropped. It needs to deteriorate and become a part of the soil of our past, a history out of which we can grow and flower and become more beautiful and fragrant.
I'm aware of the cases within various articulations of Christianity that have been made against homosexuality, and I find them unconvincing. I'm also aware of the biblical passages that reference homosexuality and I consider it obvious that these passages are not referencing a lifestyle of homosexuality that is based on commitment and love. The homosexuality that was known by the biblical authors and their contemporaries primarily existed in the realm of prostitution, ritual sex, and sexual abuse -- this is what they would have felt compelled to address. They would have had little or no reason to concern themselves with addressing committed and loving homosexual relationships. And if you bring up Leviticus you automatically loose. If you want to use Leviticus you have lots of explaining to do.
To be sure our religious predecessors (the scribes of this holy book that we scribble all over) would not have been free of prejudice. We've sanctified the book, not the authors. Let's read the book through the lense of infallible love, thus accessing its sacred direction for our lives and interactions, and avoiding the prejudices of its fallible authors. If our ancestors (religious, national, and familial) are anywhere, regarding us from where they are, I don't imagine they'd be too upset if we do away with their bad ideas and replace them with handshakes, hugs, and high fives. That's the best way to do combat with sin.

(intermission)

2009-05-23T12:44:00.001-07:00

I'm trying to figure out if it's possible to do what I've been doing here recently (share my ideas about Christianity) without creating distance between myself and you the reader. I know for many readers what I'm sharing and thinking about functions to bring us closer together, you find solidarity in what I'm writing. And some readers (one time readers) are entirely unaffected, unscathed, uninspired -- they move right along, never to shed a click on my blog again. Yet there are those who are affected by what I'm sharing in a way that causes: 1. them to question me (you are confused by what I'm saying, that I'd be saying it, perhaps concerned), or 2. them to question themselves (you feel threatened by my ideas, you feel insulted or judged or shoved in a corner).
To those readers,
Please pardon me if my tone has affected you in the manner of option 2. It is not my intent to inspire self-doubt or to berate the dignity of any individual by casting judgement.
Nor is it my intent to inspire Aram-doubt. Please understand (regarding option 1.) that here, in this blog and particularly this series of posts, are my ideas, some statements, expressions, articulations. My heart (my self, my me) is involved in this expression, but not contained by it.
To all my readers,
I'm going to keep writing because I feel compelled to, I feel strongly about the issues I bring up and I think I present valuable things for your consideration. But not for your conversion. So keep reading and let's keep talking, I value your comments.

IV.a. the other

2009-05-18T12:27:00.000-07:00

We are afraid of our differences. I'm tempted to write that we, humans, are inherently afraid of our differences, but I don't think it's true that we have to be that way. Fear is certainly an inherent sensation, but I think we're more or less socialized to fasten it to diversity. Consider children, the sort of humans that still have a good portion of the innocence they were born with. Children are inherently intrigued with our differences. All the little fingers on my contrasting white skin at an orphanage in Jamaica taught me this when I was 12. The children in the life skills class at the elementary school I worked at with their little fingers tangled in my beard. Differences in appearance and aptitude drew the attention (and incidentally the touch) of these uncontaminated examples of humanity.

What do differences (in appearance, in expression, in belief, in orientation) do to the rest of us? Often they tense us up, bother us, frighten us. And that's ok, there's no shame in the sensation of fear. It's actually quite healthy to acknowledge our fears, so we can encounter them straight on and confront them. There is hope in that. But fear denied, fear masked, fear avoided will be (has so often been) our downfall.

Let's say that we are indeed afraid of our differences, put simply: diversity threatens us. And say we're brave enough to acknowledge, encounter, and confront our fear. There are a couple of ways we can advance in that face to face confrontation.

One option is to advance with violence. By superimposing our fear on those whom we are afraid of (which we do quite naturally) we can attack our fear in its personified form. With physical or verbal force we can drive our fear into submission. If we make our fear tangible we can hold it down, and if we convince ourselves that it is low enough then we'll no longer feel the sensation of our fear, we'll have sufficiently numbed ourselves to it. But really what we'll have done is numbed ourselves to those whom we were afraid of, and done nothing to the fear itself. The fear will still be there, its sensation replaced by a silent infestation. Bad things happen when that happens. Violence toward our differences will continue to result in factions and feuds, more bloodshed and more borders.

If, on the other hand, we advance with love (or curiosity, if love is too abstract an approach) there will be a more beautiful outcome. Our fear (naturally) will take the shape of the others we are afraid of and we'll bravely approach them with love, housed in genuine curiosity: "What's it like being you?".

It's really that simple. We've been experimenting with this for ages. Asking that question and listening to each others responses and devising ways to live which take it all into account. We've been dreaming of success for quite some time now, our dream finding a variety of forms of expression: the Republic, democracy, socialism, free love, anarchy, the Kingdom of God. Our ideas tend to fall short as realities, but that doesn't mean that we should stop dreaming, or quit devoting our lives to the realization of our dream.

Jesus was one of the dream's primary dreamers.
"What is the greatest command [i.e. life's greatest instruction or the world's greatest need] ?" he's asked. "Love the Lord your God with everything you are; your emotions, your body, your intellect, your very breath. And the second greatest is like it: love your neighbor like you love yourself."

Who is your "the Lord your God"? Jesus was talking to Jews, theirs was Yahweh -- the I Am, the Isness, the One, the God that ignores and transcends tribal and national identities, the God that brings together tribes and nations, the creator and unifier, the Ground of all Being, the Real. Maybe when you hear Jesus' words about loving God you attach it to something similar to all of this, it's hard to say, God's a touchy intangible subject, yet worth some looking into.

The second answer illuminates the first for us considerably. It is like it. Love your neighbor, that's like loving God. And who is your "neighbor"? Not much room for fancy talk or hermeneutical gymnastics here. Your neighbor is each and every person who is other than you. The "thou" in the I/thou relationship. "Next door neighbor" means the other who lives next door to you. A neighborhood is a collection of others, others who all live in the same hood. Earth is a big hood, it's a global neighborhood, it always has been, but we're more aware of it now than we ever have been (thanks to the internet, air travel, photos from outer space, etc.). And since a certain sense of awareness to the other is necessary (at least helpful) before love can happen (I loved Lauren as soon as I met her) then perhaps the instruction to love our neighbor reaches farther now than it ever has.

Maybe now that our world is global in scope, now that everyone is officially our neighbor, we can have another go at our dream. And maybe now that our hood is so huge we can actually simplify our approach to the other; we don't need a political or religious or social idea to unite under, for these are no longer big enough to contain the world that we're aware of. Our humanity is, and perhaps even more binding than that is our common home. A home that we are free to explore as our hearts feel fit, asking each and every other we encounter, "What's it like being you?". If we do this, and if we listen to each other's reply, good things will happen.

III. salvation

2009-05-17T14:55:00.000-07:00

Substitutionary atonement: Salvation means the atonement of ones sins, by way of the sacrifice of ones pure and blameless savior, for the sake of the well being of ones soul.
I don't find that description inaccurate or ineffective, however, neither do I consider it exhaustive of the potential of what salvation might fully mean. I think there's another route the word "salvation" can travel.
The saviour most frequently referenced in accordance with the atonement theory above is Jesus. And the sin (or bondage or anti-salvation habit or thing that we need to be saved from) that I see most harshly rebuked by Jesus in the Bible stories is divisiveness between neighbors, the establishing of factions, the excluding of oneself from the other.
Salvation then, modeled expertly by Jesus' lifestyle and final moments of breath, isn't so much in the mechanics of a sacrifice but in the coming together of those who suffer.
Salvation is the Hebrew shalom, the Sanskrit shanti, that precedes and transcends all of our factions and prejudice. Salvation is the possibility (the hope) of unity -- a united array of all our diversities -- on all levels. Unity globally, unity in communities and neighborhoods, unity in our families, unity in our relationships, unity in ourselves.
Salvation is peace so far as peace is whole and complete, meaning not simply the absence of war between nations, nor even the absence of conflict in general, but the willingness of men and women to love and listen to one another.
Salvation, from this perspective, isn't purchased with the blood of violence or sacrifice, but is hoped toward and realized in accordance with the way of love. Salvation comes to an individual when love attains lordship in his or her heart, comes to a relationship when love carries it, comes to families and communities when they are united in love, comes to the world in the message of love.

For God so loved the world that God gave God's only son, Jesus, so that whoever believes in Jesus won't cease to exist but will have the fullest and most extensive existence imaginable, eternal life!
God's love is universal. And to believe in Jesus isn't to believe certain things about Jesus (though we're all welcome to do that) but to believe in the essence of Jesus, what Jesus was/is about: the coming together of people, love of neighbors and enemies alike, a thoughtful unity with the divine by way of a careful caring for the fragile and marginalized.
Salvation, on some accounts, has come. On many accounts, is coming. And on all accounts, is yet to come. There is hope/work for us all.

II. Hell, and Heaven too

2009-05-14T15:30:00.000-07:00

I ceased grappling (or even dabbling) with the concept of hell quite some time ago. I got to a point where the term seemed so laden with the glorification of our tendency to cast judgement on others and our insatiable propensity for personal guilt, that I simply let go of it. I think that was a necessary and positive thing for me to do. And I think it is a healthy thing for anyone to do to at least try and work off the beer belly that adorns the doctrine of hell. There is some excess to it that we'd be better off without.
Ideas often (always?) spring board off of other ideas on their way to becoming their own thing. There's no shame in that, and no harm in dissecting an idea, acknowledging it's sources, as a means of better understanding its meaning. Today's most prevalent Christian concept of hell is a hodge-podge concept that has borrowed from the images of various traditions and sources. Hades is where the dead go in Greek mythology upon passage of the river Styx. Gehenna (the Valley of Hinnom) was the location of a trash dump in the middle east with powerful metaphorical potential. Sheol is the Hebrew image of "the grave", the leveling place, the state of death that comes to us all. These words aren't synonymous with hell. They are each complex images in themselves that have lent portions to the development of Christianity's idea of hell. Hell is an idea that has evolved and developed, with purpose that is not strictly harmful. Hell is not a place, but an idea of a place, a powerful one. And bloated by our fears and prejudice the idea of hell has grown, in some articulations, into a means of ridding our eternal experience of those with whom we disagree, a sort of final crusade, genocide to the farthest extreme possible.

I don't believe in the eternal torment of sinners (or, for that matter, of the innocent). It seems plain to me that sin is nothing short of torment in and of itself, whether doing it yourself or having it done to you. If hell is in any way essential to the Christian enterprise then, as I understand it, it is like this: all of the happenings contained in the Christian message and metaphors happened in order to be rid of hell; not in order to provide a means of avoiding hell and bidding for a lot outside of it. Most heroes of the Christian faith saw hell for what it is, and the most inspiring of them waded waist deep into it and did what they could to extinguish it.
Hell, if anything at all, is what many people experience everyday and what all people experience at least some days. Humans experience hell when they are disregarded by others around them. We create hell by our failure to evenly distribute food and water, shelter and dignity to one another. Making heaven the realization of ones dignity, the satiation of hunger and thirst, the remedy of malnutrition and illness (whether that malnutrition has to do with a scarcity of meals or not). Indeed, and remember this, for some heaven does not find them until death does.
I'm a believer in the quiet rest and the holistic realization of contentment that comes, in one way or another, one day to us all. My left-column friends would perhaps call me a universalist. Maybe "hopeful" according to the right-columnists.

I. the Bible

2009-05-13T14:56:00.000-07:00

For me it seems dull (rather stuffy and cooped up) to think of God dictating divine words to human receptors, thus making the Bible an inherently divine product wherein one can find answers to the hard questions. In other words I don't consider the Bible a divine response to human dilemmas.
Rather, I consider the Bible as genuine human response and reaction to the experience of God in life; sometimes by individuals, sometimes by a community. I think the Bible is more or less an acknowledgment of the the hard questions, wherein solidarity and guidance can be found.

Consider the history of the Bible itself. The process of its compilation: generations and generations of people reporting and eventually recording their experiences of life and worship and conflict and celebration and identity. So many authentic and uncensored statements and questions about the matters that mattered to them. The process of its canonization: how gradually a series of councils, by judging its utility and wisdom, bestowed authority to the collection of books that we hold in our hands when we hold the Bible. It is powerful to think of the rich history of the Bible. I think the Bible's rich history marks it with significance in a way that our personal statements about it (i.e. inspired, inerrant, infallible) can not.

I don't think of the Bible as the Word of God, but as an assembly of words (stories, accounts, songs, letters, forecasts, social commentary, history, and poetry) that are of God as often as an individual or community uses them in a God-worthy (loving!) way. The Bible is read, interpreted, and used. And that can be done to the benefit or detriment of "the other" (our neighbor, whom we're meant to love as ourselves). I believe the Bible is meant to be used to benefit, to encourage, admonish, and guide. Not used to back up our prejudice, fears, and judgments, as it so often is.

In school I was encouraged to acknowledge that the (Christian) scriptures were insufficient when separated from us, specifically from our ability to reason or interpret, our culture and traditions, and our experience of life. And I believe that these four things (scripture, interpretation, culture, and experience) do indeed need to be in constant dialogue (quadralogue?). More than need -- they are unavoidably interlaced and interdependent for the religious person. And even for the non-religious person, this dynamic foursome has played such an extravagant role in our history and has a still lasting effect in our politics and social interactions, it would be wise to understand "that" if not "how" this is.

I don't believe that the Bible does much, nor is it sacred, on its own; even though I do consider it sacred. Which is not to suggest that we bestow upon it it's sanctity (authority, yes, but sanctity is something different). In the hands and heart of a community or individual that does consider the Bible as authoritative, that does embrace its history, teachings, and stories, it has a weathered and reputable power and wisdom. There is in it a sacred theme that, partnered with human understanding, imagination, and action, has the potential to affect today's world in extraordinarily beneficial ways.
I think that makes the Bible a sacred book, able to guide a person or community in the way of love.

The Christian Enterprise and I

2009-05-13T14:27:00.000-07:00

A couple of posts back I mentioned a sensation that I couldn’t shake, the sense that I needed to express myself regarding what I believe, me and faith.
Additionally, and more specifically, I feel a steady need in my inner life to address how I relate to and perceive of Christianity. Having been born and bred into the whole enterprise it is a matter of personal importance, there’s no denying that. But I also have relationships with many people who are active in the Christian faith, who are, in fact, self-proclaimed Christians, and these relationships contribute to the need I feel to make this address. I cherish both my heritage and these friends. And seeing as it is no secret that I have changed considerably, since my days as a pious youth and a collegiate bible student, in the way I think about religious matters – my convictions have been adjusted, my paradigm tweaked – I intend, with a series of posts, to give an account of my current relationship with Christianity. I’m going to do this by writng some monologues that pertain to a handful of Christian particulars.
By sharing these posts my intention is not to establish distance between myself and others who hold to a more conventional Christian articulation, anymore than it is my intention to distance myself from those who find no value whatsoever in the Christian experience or Christian metaphors. What I want to do is make myself known, I want to be understood and appreciated just like most of the rest of you.
But, should we end up one or two doctrines shy of mutual understanding, or should my idea of lucid expression turn out to be your idea of ambiguity (and a source of frustration) then I would be glad to either continue the exploration on a more personal-conversational level (to the extent that it might be possible) or simply agree that there is a heap of potential for good relationship to be had in the shared art of lovingly disagreeing. Maybe in the end what we’re disagreeing about isn’t religion at all, maybe we’re just wired differently (remember the columns?), and maybe you’re just as important in the swirl of life (and dialogue) on earth as I am.
What you can expect from me in the next week or so (so long as I consistently find a source of internet) is something about:

I. the Bible
II. Hell, and Heaven too
III. salvation
IV. the other (aka: our neighbor, whom we’re meant to love as ourself)
V. God
VI. and Jesus

Keep reading, share your comments, be nice, and enjoy these efforts of mine at being e-vulnerable and e-honest.

Columns

2009-04-30T07:10:00.000-07:00

I was prompted by a conversation with a dear friend of mine (while putting down mulch and piling up ideas about God, faith, culture, life, the whole gamut) toward some ponderings on the differences between "modern" thinkers and "postmodern" thinkers. My friend falls significantly into one category and I in the other, there's no denying it, but I am trying to open up to an approach to these two approaches that doesn't make one or the other out to be the villain.

First off let me withdraw from the words "modern" and "postmodern", not wanting to get trapped in the act of misnomer-ing and out of respect for those who have done much more in the way of research on these terms/philosophies/phenomena. "Post/modern" were the two words that sparked the columns below, but any deviation is my own, and I'd like to be welcome to go wherever I may.

Left Column -------------------- Right Column

Idea---------------------------------Drama
Belief--------------------------------Experience
Quantitative-------------------------Qualitative
Methods-----------------------------Metaphors
Statements---------------------------Stories
Define--------------------------------Describe
A to B (destination)------------------a TO b (journey)

I want to be careful not to portray this as a conservative vs liberal thing, or a close minded vs open minded thing, or an anything vs anything else. I'm trying to point out that this is, and that the one is as valid a way to be wired (or conditioned) as the other.

A couple of elucidations.

*Quantitative says, "We tend to be real crystal clear about who we are. We say, 'I am such and such,' whether it be a Democrat or a Christian or the Tooth Fairy. We quantify things with labels of affirmation. 'He is a Democrat/Republican.' 'She is a Christian/Atheist.' 'They are the Tooth Fairy.' 'I am...' Qualitative usually thinks we're stuck in our ways."
Qualitative says, "We tend to be elusive when it comes to titles and labels. We say, 'I am not that sort of Democrat, not that sort of Christian, not that sort of Tooth Fairy.' We qualify labels by way of negation. Quantitative usually thinks we're dodging the question."

*A-to-B and a-TO-b go on a backpacking trip together, say to the Paria River in Arizona/Utah. They take a shuttle (with Betty of course) to Wire Pass (A/a) and hike for five days to/TO their rental car at Lee's Ferry (B/b).
By being too focused on the destination A-to-B can miss out on the beauty of the journey and the formative elements therein. A-to-B might fail to enjoy the trek. a-TO-b, however, can miss out on the sense of accomplishment upon completion of the trip. a-TO-b might feel discouraged rather than rejuvenated upon "arrival".
(To put arrival in "..." is something an a-TO-b would feel compelled to do.)

I encourage my reader to try not to be intimidated by either column. What the left column and the right column have in common is that they are both approaches to life, both attempts at understanding truth. And if we're honest most of us will acknowledge some of each column in us, though we probably have a definite leaning, which is totally okay.

What isn't okay is when we become insistent that one approach ought to be able to encompass and satisfy us all. It's not okay to suggest that our favored approach is absolute. That doesn't benefit ourselves or anyone else. It only betrays our fear of being wrong, of being on the losing side. We don't need to fret about that. We're in this together.

One of the most important things might be to recognize the destructive manifestations of either column at work in a person who has an unhealthy heart and a lot of influence. (Heart = where the parts of a person, body/spirit/intellect/imagination/emotions, intersect.)

It is dangerous, for instance, when a dogmatic and dictatorial person is addicted to the left column. Certain things will turn up in such a coupling: exclusivism, judgementalism, narrow-mindedness, abrasive indoctrinating -- and these all disguised in cloaks of martyrdom, and freedom-fighting.

Equally dangerous is the convincing fatalist and pessimist who is entrenched in the right column. This combination leads to relativism, relentlessness, despairing and uncaring -- disguised as realism, honesty, and truth telling.

Most people you come across aren't either of these two people. These two are exceptional. Most people, like Wiggs Dannyboy says in Jitterbug Perfume, "[just] want somebody to tell 'em they have a chance at the i-n-g of life and not just the e-d." Most of us want to make a living, one that has nothing to do with currency or bank accounts, we want life in the fullest possible sense. If it's life we want, let's make sure we're listening to people with healthy hearts, helping people with unhealthy hearts, and considering the value and validity of our own heart, whether it leans to the left or the right.

philippians 4.7

2009-04-24T22:30:00.001-07:00

My wife is asleep in bed right now and I am up, awake, later than I should be because I can't shake a feeling.

I sense that some people in my life think I have given up on God and that I have devoted my thoughts and efforts to things less than worthy of a life's devotion. And that sense troubles me, it has be scrambling for an explanation -- an explanation of my own or one from one of them, except that none of them have accused me of any such thing, it's just a sense, a feeling I can't shake.
So I'm left to explain on my own.

I know there are a couple things I believe in, a couple things that make me a believer and they aren't exclusively Christian or religious.

I believe, somewhat naively, in the potential for redemption, that redemption is possible for any individual and that it's possible in any social situation. Love is more powerful than anything else, and it's confusing and complex and sometimes contradictory. Forgiveness goes out of its way to break ground for redemption -- I've witnessed all of that from beginning to end, for example, in my parents' story. And I continue to keep my eyes peeled for it elsewhere in life.

I believe in the natural rhythm of things, sometimes even mystically. The slow steady fidelity of tides and seasons and growth and reproduction, for instance. To call anything supernatural is redundant. The natural is extraordinary, and confusing and complex and sometimes contradictory -- containing struggle and regeneration, heartache and elation, death and life.

In regards to those two things, call the first "Love" and the second "Life" both with capital "L's", I am a believer. And when I write this, when I claim it, it makes me feel like I have a bold and strong faith in God. Even though I don't use the word "God" as much as I once did, or credit things to "God" as readily, I haven't turned my back on God. Consider it all an attempt to not take the Lord's name in vain, to not take "God" for granted.

By not identifying as a Christian I am not trying to distance myself from anyone. With these attempts at explanation that I continually make -- in my head, on paper, out loud, here on my blog -- I am trying to benefit (not condemn) anyone who might be interested in knowing me, it's in order to enhance (not dishevel) the potential for our relationship.

By not saying, "I am a Christian" or "I believe 'such and such' about God" I am not trying to judge those who do. The thing is I'm proud of me, and chances are I'm proud of you too. Give me the benefit of the doubt and you'll see that what you believe about God and the good life is alive and well in me. Just as I see it in you.

Nor do I desire to distance myself from my heritage. Everyone of my days as a child was tempered in the furnace of Christianity and strong family ties. Any time I bask in the memory pools of my upbringing it's a balm to my soul's skin and I get to feeling smooth, fragrant, and fresh. I like most of the influences and experiences that have helped shape who I am and am becoming. The handful that I don't like I at least appreciate and don't resent. I consider myself well crafted, and the smiths' hands are many.

Suffice it to say? I am not an atheist, not even an agnostic, though I know, love, and appreciate several of each sort. I am a believer through and through. And even if I'm not that kind of a believer, I am one nonetheless.

I'm conservative too. It just has more to do with the way I refrain from kicking around the word "God" and other religious lingo. A rose by any other name...
Which is to say that God has a distinct scent and I'm trying more and more to trust my sense of smell, even at the expense of some of my past convictions and especially at the expense of my prejudices.

Does this make sense? I feel like it should but fear it doesn't but it's important to me that it does. What I want more than anything in life is peace that involves everything, including everyone, including you and me. That doesn't imply a need for sameness between us, but does depend, to some extent I think, on understanding. So let's not hide our questions from one another, nor be eager to change each other.
I want you to be honestly you. And me to be honestly me. And trust "God" to take care of the rest.

feel the rhythm, join the dance

2009-03-15T15:46:00.000-07:00

I had a chance to talk with a couple different groups of people this week about the situation of the environment, as in the state of the natural world and the impact of humankind on it. We perused the issue as thoroughly as possible in the time we were allotted. One thing we did not do was argue whether or not there is an environmental situation at hand, a situation where the human impact on the environment has reached uncontainable levels; or for a more neutral assessment, has become more noticeable than not. I consider that to be self-evident, even for those who aren't aware of the statistics -- the rate of deforestation, the impossibility for many in developing countries to find clean water, the number of species on the planet that are ceasing to exist, the tragic amounts of plastic and garbage gathering in a large section of the North Pacific Gyre, the acidity of rain, the loss of fertile topsoil due to poor agricultural habits, the excessive amount of red meat consumed by the affluent minority of the world and the excessive amount of grain grown to feed the cattle heading in that direction -- a simple look around lends quick exposure to human impact on an otherwise sustainable planet.

I believe all of this is wrong, not the way it should be, irresponsible, sinful, disruptive, distorted, distasteful, unfortunate... and overwhelming. I don't think it's possible for this massive ship (thanks Maxwell, for this metaphor) of over-consumption, over-disposal, and maleficent eco-habits to turn around in just one generation. But I sense the ship aching to turn nonetheless. So I propose two approaches:

Approach #1

Each of us can completely minimalize the residue of our presence; by eliminating every fouling act, numbing every appetite, going strictly vegan, making our own clothes, renouncing our material possessions, decreasing our footprint to zero.

I believe this would work. In time, if every human were to take this approach, I believe that the planet would recover from the devastation it has faced as a result of our over-consumption. In time the soil would rejuvenate, forests would replant, water would reclaim it's geological path and life giving purity, animals would reproduce, the atmosphere would overwhelm the poisons it contains. Unhindered by our abusive interaction with it, the natural world would take care of itself, and regain its all-blanketing beauty.

It would work.

But we, humans, are up to our necks in us. Our livelihood is so integrated with the economic machine of consumption and mass production, in servicing one anothers' massive appetites, that with out the consumer (all of us) then the provider (all of us as well) would be out of a job, devoid of their source of livelihood. In this case, environmental rejuvenation would result in economic destruction. (Which I suspect is the fear that is behind the sad and narrow assessment of environmentalism on http://environmentalism.com/.)

The natural world is resistent -- "inventive, persistent, and sly" (please read A Conservationist Manifesto by Scott Russel Sanders http://www.scottrussellsanders.com/) -- it will take care of itself if we afford it the space to. But we would find ourselves so estranged from the natural world that we would not know how to join the rhythm of rejuvenation.

The environment cannot sustain our overindulgence. The human story could not endure complete withdrawl.

Approach #2

We continue to pursue the good life. We pool our creative energies together to reimagine a sustainable and wholistically healthy version of the abundant life. We vigorously reestablish the connection we have lost with the rhythms of the natural world that we are so a part of. We devote ourselves to the act of sharing, allowing the earth's resources to be redistributed to all who need nourishment (rich and poor, human and non-human alike). We do not merely set about switching from destructive to constructive actions, rather we embrace a posture of acceptance and trust in the earth's rejuvenative potential. (For a far more articulate and exceedingly powerful treatment of these very issues please read Environmental Linguistics on http://laurenzmitchell.wordpress.com/.)

The creative force that set the earth spinning and jostled life into being on its surface is still present and active. And fortunately for us it is forgiving and patient, it still has room for the human story.

you and god and this book i read

2009-03-03T16:59:00.000-08:00

I recently finished reading The Amber Spyglass and so finished the story of Lyra and Will's adventures in many worlds as recorded in the series: His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman.
There is some controversy over these books because the author might be an atheist and the story might have an anti-christian agenda.
I've heard that the author is a kind and open conversationalist (and worthy debate partner), and I've concluded that the story is about Lyra and Will, their friends and their journeys, their struggles, their triumphs, and their coming of age. So if you've got the stomach for a thing or two that might not exactly line up with your personal worldview, or that might, then read and enjoy them.

To readers who identify with the facets of theism, conservative and moderate alike, but who still possess the courage of an open mind, the token of suggestion that I gleaned from His Dark Materials is not so much to abandon belief in God or even commitment to your religious expression, but to reconsider the articulation and possibly foundation of your belief and expression. And in reconsidering be open to revision where necessary.
If your belief in God is articulated in such a way that poses God as a figure of authority who provides limitations and regulations whereby life must be lived, then perhaps it isn't God you are speaking about after all, but a caricature of God created by an institution of religion as dictated by men who are/were un/consciously invested more in the pursuit of power and control than in the pursuit of the divine.
How might your belief in God be better, more accurately articulated?
Is God a monarch and a tyrant? Interested in our human concepts and experience of authority and power? Interested in motivating by the means of fear and force? (Is that the foundation of your religious expression? fear? shame? guilt?)
Or is God something else entirely? Not a being who uses force, but a force in and of itself. Not a motivating entity, but an actual sensation of compulsion.
Which sounds more like that which was present at the incipience of the world? Which sounds more like that which is present in the world's sustenance?

To readers who identify as atheists (or simply do not identify as theists), those who avoid religion and its facets, but who still possess the courage of an open mind, I think you would be encouraged by His Dark Materials, finding your stance on God and religion condoned in the pages of this story. Yet a suggestion all the same, and that is to rebel against the indifference toward life that drives so much and so many in our world (and other worlds too no doubt); and to pull at life instead, finding it active and ready for exposrure: in the corners of our relationships, in the songs and sounds of birds and animals, in the stretch of the horizon, in the very air, and in the breath that we breathe it with.

To readers one and all note that regardless of your articulation -- whether it be in favor of this God or that, whether in denial of either or all, whether in a careful disregard -- our stances can quickly become us; our articulations, if unchecked, become our idols, become the manifestation and limitation of who we are.
How tragic to be defined simply (or to define someonelse) by how one uses the word "God". What a waste to categorize and so dismiss someone because they believe in God or because they do not or because they're not quite sure. When the reality of divinity, energy, life is so readily apparent, as it is through the many struggles and triumphs of the two protaganists, in the curiosty and courage, the kindness and inventiveness, the hope with which we approach our world. To be known, and even defined, utlimately as one who loves and is loved.

dropping the "G" word

2009-02-19T15:34:00.001-08:00

Imagine you (or I, or anyone for that matter) were bred from the earliest of your recollectable days to long to fall in love with a woman named Cindy.
You dreamt of a Cindy in your adolescence and chased after Cindy's on the play ground in your youth. You could imagine calling your lover by no other name. A woman's quality, apparent upon your initial interactions with her, all but vanished when she stated her name to be something other than Cindy. You were taught and tied into the endeavor of loving a woman with this name.

Imagine a string of romantic experiences that you have as you wander the earth, each very genuine, each passionate and hopeful. You encounter a woman (avoid the preliminary introductions) share experiences with her, fall authentically in love with her. Then you ask her name and it is not Cindy. So you leave her -- you leave the romance, the authenticity, the passion, the hope, the experience, the love all behind. And you do it again. And again. None of them turn out to be Cindy.

So you take a different approach. You seek out women named Cindy. You find a Cindy and you pursue her, date her, kiss her, introduce her to your family -- "This is Cindy" -- move in with her, share life with her. But it is all contrived, so you leave her for another woman named Cindy and do it again. And again. None of them coax love from you (and incidentally neither do you do much for them, so don't feel too cocky).

Imagine your broken and lonely state of being. Imagine having given up true love several times over. Imagine having placed your hope in an idea so resolutely time and again, and time and again it being returned to you void. And imagine in this grim state as you travel the globe with your seemingly hopeless cause set before you that you wander into a library in Frankfurt and select a volume of fairy tales; hoping to find something to quell the sting, to find inspiration from these stories of eerily unlikely events.

Flipping through the book you find her. Cindy, or in her fullness Cinderella, cinder-ella, the girl of the cinders, girl of the ashes. And -- ashes to ashes, dust to dust -- you realize that every woman you sought, those you loved and those you didn't (those who loved you and those who didn't) was Cindy, each a daughter of the earth, each human.
So you siphon your focus on the name into a more expansive focus on the experience of love. And you fulfill your destiny.

ufc with yhwh

2009-02-11T06:34:00.000-08:00

i had a sweet wreck the other day. i was biking from work to meet lauren at a coffee shop, hauling downhill on 10th street. i decided to take a short cut along the pedestrian route so i glanced back to check traffic, crossed over and hopped up onto the sidewalk. it was raining and i took a sharp turn left a little too fast, my back tire slid out and my front tire buckled and i went down and skidded like 15 feet. i hopped up and had one of the moments of "am i ok? i'm ok. really? am i? i am." and then the obligatory bashful look around to see if anyone saw (no one did), unjammed my chain, hopped back on, thanked God i was wearing denim and a tough jacket, said, "that was awesome", and continued (with a touch more care) on my merry way.
it felt really good. i haven't wiped out for a while. i had a couple wrecks in college that were really sweet (one forward somersault with feet still in toe clips, took a big divot out of the woman's field hockey field at the bottom of our ski slope at houghton, i saved the divot because we had found a lizard and seth fancy and i set up a little island in a bowl of water for him, but he escaped and lived a better life than either of us ever could have given him), but it's been a good long while since i really skinned my knees. what's the appeal i wonder? it's not a desire for pain. just for contact, friction, resistance.
like the part in philip pullman's "the subtle knife" when william struggles, unbeknownst to him, with his father. like the story in the bible where jacob wrestles God. clings to God, makes demands of God, gets his hip broken by God. i don't talk about God on a daily basis anymore, not like i did when it was my homework to do so, when the community i belonged to made a practice of it. but i still like meeting for wrestling matches, smiles and dirt smeared across our faces, the two of us rolling around without much to talk about but with plenty in common. God letting me win sometimes, i letting God win sometimes.
i don't distinguish much between God and Life. like i don't hold to God as a human-like being with arms and legs that wrap around me in the fight. the events and experiences of God wrap around me, they are what i pull against or give in to. and i think that's how God likes it.. as in, i think that's how Life is done best.
i got an opportunity to sit with Life for a while a couple weekends ago, i had our little cottage to myself and i rested. sat across from Life for an evening and a morning and lingered in Its presence, feeling the surge of my own muscles for a change, rather than the push of Life's muscle on me.
i'm back in it again, wrestling again.. smiling, grimacing, struggling, collapsing. but really glad that we took some respite.

ben and bob

2008-12-06T11:40:00.000-08:00

I guess this delighted me a little bit too much to keep to myself.
Simply this:

I had a dream last night that Veggie Tales came out with a full length, live action Christmas movie. Ben Stiller played Bob the Tomato.

That's all.