Parson to Person

Cultural Content or Freedom of Choice?

2010-02-10T22:18:00.005-06:00

"All culture arises out of religion. When religious faith decays, culture must decline, though often seeming to flourish for a space after the religion which has nourished it has sunk into disbelief ... no cultured person should remain indifferent to erosion of apprehension of the transcendent." --Russell Kirk, Eliot and His Age, in David Bentley Hart, Religion in America: Ancient and Modern.

The quotation implies what might seem obvious, that "culture has content," but according to Hart, cultural content is in danger of being replaced by "choice" in the existentialist sense, which he sees as a demoralizing slavery to self. It's not so much whether culture arises out of religion or perhaps out of leisure as in Josef Pieper (Leisure, The Basis of Culture, 1952), but that in either case it is the material and symbolic stuff of culture that shapes and supports the human spirit.

Two news stories this week seem to allude to the importance individuals and nations place on the content of culture: "Cultural Riches Turn to Rubble in Haiti Quake," NYT, Jan. 23, 2010, and just yesterday, a report on the proposals in France to strengthen national identity:"French 'Identity' Debate Leaves Public Forum:"By STEVEN ERLANGER, Feb.9.

In the case of Haiti, the story stresses the impact of the loss of a large number of murals in collapsed buildings: the spirit of the people is weakened by the loss of these material markers of national pride and history. In France there is resistence to full facial veils worn by Muslim women, and a call to the reinstitution of displaying the French flag and reading the 1789 Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen in all public schools.

The simple point I want to make here is that all of us are attached, and are dependent for our identity upon, certain "signs," material and symbolic, that point us to our origins and foundational values, and, which while we may internalize and accept these particular cultural signs and symbols as our own, or substitute others instead, determine our sense of identity.

The French protagonists in the story cited would have their citizens reimbrace the values of the Revolution in the Declaration of the Rights of Man (which was intended as an alternative to the Christian Creed); the Haitians interviewed yearn for the psycho-spiritual touchstone the murals provided. If Hart is right, Christians need a familiarity with the tenets of their faith to be "rooted and grounded" in the source of life, and believes our culture depends upon it. Substituting an absolute freedom of the self for the content of Christian --or any other -- culture, paradoxically does not set one free, but enslaves one to oneself -- and in so doing suspends one over the terrifying abyss of emptyness. It's another question which culture we immerse ourselves in --whether we choose the Declaration of the Rights of Man, or for Christians Jesus himself -- trying to discern the implications of one or the other. Either is preferable to slavery to self. ~ GKS

2010-01-17T16:21:00.005-06:00

In the January 11 edition of The New York Times, the article

Churches Attacked Amid Furor in Malaysia

addresses the issue of the relation of religion, politics and violence. I've asked before whether or not religion itself fosters intolerance and division. If it does, then I would join those who look for a means other than "organized religion" to create a broad based human community with shared and noble goals and values.

While the article discusses the role of religion in the civil strife in Malaysia, it quickly gets to a thesis that the differences among Muslims, Christians and Hindus there is based upon a concern of politicians to create and maintain a "national identity:"

“In Malaysia the central theme will always be about the Malay identity and about Islam. The parties come up with various policies or means to attempt to appeal to the Muslim Malay voters. ... This is the last hope — to incite racial and religious sentiments to cling to power,” he said. “Immediately since the disastrous defeat in the March 2008 election they have been fanning this.”

While one could conceive zealots here proclaiming "This is a Christian nation" with the same antagonism against other religions as in Malaysia, we should still listen to the point being made by the article: religion, at least in the Malaysia case, is the pawn of those wishing to maintain political power. To the extent this might be true, the thesis that religion itself is divisive is undermined.

If we look to any other part of the world where religion has been blamed for violence, we can see the same sort of dysfunctional connection between religion and politics, where religion becomes the vehicle for political aspiration and control; religion has sometimes taken the lead for its own advantage in backing a ruling political party. But it would be difficult in any of these situations to find a close correlation between the values of a government in power and a particular religion, contra a different political party and its religion. In the case of the sectarian violence in Northern Ireland, for instance, the issue was and is economics -- jobs, benefits, dignity and opportunity-- more than the differences between Catholic and Protestant religion -- although the one comes to be labelled as identical with its counterpart. Thinking people see beyond labels and work to find common values upon which to create peace and practice reconciliation.

In parts of Moorish Spain, for prolonged periods -- for instance at the Great Mosque at Cordoba -- Christians and Muslims and Jews lived together peacefully and fruitfully (although the condition for that was submission: See http://www.medievalists.net/2010/01/20/why-minorities-were-neither-tolerated-nor-discriminated-against-in-the-middle-ages/. The Great Mosque, incorporating in a place of shared worship both Islamic and Christian art and architecture, was considered by all one of the great monuments of the world. Some would say it still is.

It is not unusual to find people of different religions who are great friends -- but who have not, in order to achieve that friendship, been forced to give up the convictions of their particular religion. Tolerant and enlightened religious people are those who know that "religion" starts with a "re:" that is, "religion" means re-uniting the "ligaments" that hold a body, and therefore a soul and a mind, together, in the common pursuit of goodness, beauty and truth. That goal, and not passing political fights, are what religion is truly about. In this context it does not serve the common good to opt out of the religious enterprize in favor of a "spirituality" or a dis-organized religion that is disembodied from either "organized religion" or politics, even when "spirituality" is at the core of religion and not identical to it. To be a spiritual person is to be compassionately involved in the human enterprize as a whole, and not give in to the temptation to stand aloof from the conflicts which come upon us in any and all times in human history.

When Jesus asks Peter, after Peter pointed out that Jesus was saying "hard" things (setting himself apart from the religion of the Pharasees), whether Peter would like to leave off following him, Peter thought for a moment and said "Lord, to whom else can we go? You have the words of eternal life." Point being that we all need to start somewhere and that somewhere is always based on our subjective grasp of the truth, in the case of Peter, Jesus himself. That our starting place is necessarily subjective (even when we believe that truth is objectively verifiable) should not be a rationalization for “standing above the fray” of religion. Religion is at once our greatest means of re-ligamenting a wounded and broken humanity, and a peril if it is given only lip service and not practiced from the heart. GKS

Advent Note from the Curate

2009-12-11T10:37:00.003-06:00

TWELVE DAYS

As Anglicans persevering through Advent, we will want the full measure of Christmastide. Yes, indeed: all twelve days and all twelve nights, and not a minute less. Many have found that Advent’s patient expectancy converts a potentially frantic and frenetic time into one of calm and even serenity. Imagine, while so many others careen through these days like a “Wii” gone wild, Advent Anglicans look within, anticipating the joyous celebration of the Incarnation, quietly completing modest Christmas lists, and preparing dinner menus for fifty without so much as batting an eye. (It should be noted that the effects of Advent vary from person to person.) Just one small reminder: “Have you completed your Jesus list? Have you chosen twelve gifts for Jesus, one for each day of that Christmastide we will so relish when it finally arrives?”

Each day we have an invitation to rededicate our lives to God, and Advent gives us the time to decide how we might do so. Each day God showers us with gifts, and Advent strengthens us to receive the blessings needed for the sometimes difficult consequences of living a Christian life. Each day of Advent urges us to choose twelve gifts of self to give to Jesus, one day at a time. May we be as intentional as the three persevering kings who brought gifts to the city of David’s ancestors, and as simple as the angels and shepherds who worshipped in silent awe; and may we become as innocent and true as the voice of the dear poor one from Christina Rosetti’s “In the Bleak Midwinter,” Yet what I can I give him – give my heart.

Guest blogger, The Rev’d Clarisse Schroeder, serves as curate at St. George’s Episcopal Church, Germantown, TN.

Advent and Mystery or Self Help and Therapy?

2009-12-04T11:53:00.006-06:00

The book recommended for Advent this year (in the parish Bookshoppe) is an anthology of writings, almost each of which catches my eye and holds my attention, especially a short essay by Kathleen Norris titled "Annunication." The church of which Father Nicholas Vieron of Memphis was the Pastor is named Annunciation. In his Greek class (which starts again January 18 ~ you've got to attend!) Fr. Nick points out that "Annunciation" sounds much better in Greek (phonetically, "ee van gell ease moo" -- say it three times, quickly) than in English, where the correlative word "announcement" comes to mind way too quickly. Point being, "announcement" is too prosaic, dull and functional to be able to carry the weight of such good news as the "annunciation" to Mary (nine months before Christmas). Susanne Langer, in her book Philosophy in a New Key, advances her thesis that the very sound of a word contributes to our understanding of its meaning. Fr. Vieron would agree. "Ee van gell ease moo" speaks of joy and mystery, if you can read between the lines and "feel" that word's "value" or "weight." Hard to find mystery in the word "announcement;" isn't the purpose of an announcement to clear up and dissipate confusion and mystery?

Kathleen Norris (NPR interview here: www.pbs.org/wnet/religionandethics/episodes/march-13-2009/kathleen-norris/1343/ ) makes a parallel point: "...Modern believers tend to trust in therapy more than mystery, a fact that tends to manifest itself in worship that employs the bland speech of pop psychology and self-help rather than language resonant with poetic meaning -- for example, a call to worship that begins: 'Use this hour, Lord, to get our perspectives straight again.' Rather than express awe, let alone those negative feelings, fear and trembling, as we come into the presence of God, crying 'Holy, Holy, Holy,' we focus totally on ourselves, and arrogantly issue an imperative to God. Use this hour, because we're busy later; just send us a bill, as any therapist would, and we'll zip off a check in the mail. But the mystery of worship, which is God's presence and our response to it. does not work that way."

It's an extraordinary essay: she moves immediately after this to an example of how not to deal with birth control education among inner city teens, to European art, to the Christmas story. Final point being, for me, that in order to grasp the significance of Christmas we need to re-embrace the very basic concept of mystery. How are your mystery skills? Who really prefers "announcements" to "ee van gell ease moos?" Who would prefer "therapy" to "mystery," when "therapy" and self help by comparison, unless they point to mystery, are just simply, well, boring. And ineffectual. Poetry, art, music are not, in this view, escapes from reality, they are a way into the deep realities among which we live and move, and have our being. GKS

2009-12-04T11:52:00.001-06:00

I'm In the Mood

2009-11-13T12:35:00.004-06:00

I’m in the Mood

Almost anyone, unless perhaps they have recently lost a spouse, is warmed by hearing sung “I’m in the mood for love, dear/ Simply because you’re near me. / Funny, but when you’re near me, I’m in the mood for love.” The song evokes a universal emotion. It’s warming because the emotion of love is familiar and, if someone plays the song for you while lighting candles and pouring wine, the sentiment put forth is likely to be sincere.

Another familiar song, one about love, “O Holy Night,” is usually well received also. (“ O holy night, the stars are brightly shining, it is the night of the dear savior’s birth.”) So why was I not warmed in the same way by hearing this song in Borders Bookstore yesterday? I think because, although it is familiar, and speaks of love, there was nothing sincere about it. In fact, while “I’m in the mood for love” suggests a romantic trieste is just around the corner, O Holy Night, in Borders, now, reeks of prostitution. What is prostitution if not the defacing of love by insincerity?

Perhaps the words of the first song can instruct us more wisely. The first sets us in the mood for love more than the second, given its commercial use. “I’m in the mood for love… simply because you’re near me” speaks of intimate relationship; the other speaks of consumerism: “Get in the “mood for Christmas” and buy a [thoughtful or not] gift.”

Any Christmas song is public property, in the public domain, part of our cultural heritage. But we can be made into simply cultural Christians if there’s not an effort to hear in O Holy Night some reminder of relationship with God, and not some other kind of enticement, tempting us to blink at the prostitution of the Holy. When we blink, we become, to the extent of the blink, jaded, cultural Christians, numb to the relationship spoken of in the hymn.

The rejuvenation of our economy is something we should all work for, but the Gospel reminds us we do not eat by bread alone. We might get in the mood for love by focusing on the sincerity of that Love that Came Down at Christmas (Hymn 84). Advent is the buffer between a religion of consumerism and the relationship Jesus offers us. Beginning this Sunday we will add a collect at the beginning of the eucharist:

A Collect Anticipating Advent
Great God of Hope, prepare us, as Advent and Christmas approach, not to be conformed to the ways of this world, but, being transformed by your Spirit, fix our hearts and minds upon him who is the light of the world and the joy of our salvation, your son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Save your Soul: Bring a Can of Food to Church

2009-10-02T14:21:00.008-05:00

The expression "touching base" refers to returning to a fixed point which reorients a person to a trusted point of reference. If we are busy running through the routines of a busy life, for instance, it might refer to checking in to reorient ourselves to a trusted, stable, "still point" around which the busy world revolves. Judaism called the Temple where God was known to be Present the "axis mundi" -- the center of the world, such a still point, and the Temple rituals kept one centered upon a right relationship with God. Judaism created "touching base" opportunities with Him who gave material blessings --"the fruits of the earth" -- at the time of the late summer harvest, and other festivals in the Fall season. We are now in that time of harvest, and it is good to touch base with the most stable of all realities, the seasons of nature.

This Sunday, October 4, St. George's celebrates the Harvest Festival, and, with the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi and the Blessing of the Animals, these observances are good chances for us to "touch base" with an undeniable part of who we are: we are animals (creatures, to use a theological term) and we are rooted and grounded in the world of nature. Children understand this very well--they love to dress up as animals, for example; it's up to us adults to foster and encourage this connection with the created world.

In the Jewish "Feast of Booths," or "Sukkot," the people eat their meals for seven days in a hut, sometimes in their back yard in modern times, remniscent of the temporary shelters they lived in during their wanderings in the wilderness. It teaches, now as then, that we are dependent upon the providence of God for our survival. The celebration takes place the last week of September, usually, when the harvest has been taken in, and sumptuous feasts are a part of it.

Consider what a tonic this observance might be for us, how this is a reminder to us who, by means of technology, have very little touch with the world of nature. We measure distance not by miles, but by how long it takes us to get somewhere; we are in instant communication with no down time at all, no longer waiting for a letter to be delivered and a reply received. We wake up too early and go to bed too late, and, with no rest during the day, usually go to bed fatigued. We overschedule ourselves and our families so that not even the weekend is a time of rest. We consume recreation, but in the pursuit of more and more exotic experiences "recreation" no longer re-creates. The Sabbath, given for humanity's good, no longer serves a purpose. If we think of the harvest at all (the grocery stores don't go by the seasons much), it's in connection with Thanksgiving, which is only a marker in the Christmas shopping season (although it is one of my favorite holidays because in itself, it is a "transit point," not a commercial "destination").

What might help us touch base again with the reality of our need for rest and reflection, and our reliance upon God for our sustenance? Bringing a can of food to church this Sunday is a possible step. By actually tieing ourselves to the concreteness of such an exercise, more than helping provide food for others, we do at least as much good for ourselves, and teach our children valuable lessons. We remind ourselves, like Sukkot reminds the Jews, that we are dependent upon a bountiful God. Seeing the church full of gords, cornstalks, pumpkins and cans of food, we are reminded of God's favor to us and his generosity. We can then be moved to a real generosity, not just an occasional act of charity, realizing all humanity is in the same glorious boat of the children of a loving, generous God. We can relax, deeply, only in the knowledge that it's not our efforts that ensure our security, but that a loving generous Father cares for his creation. Resting confidently in God is what is known as "saving your soul." ~GKS

Overly Defensive About Our Humanity?

2009-09-18T11:28:00.028-05:00

Numerous outbreaks of public rudeness this past week have resulted in observations by social pyschologists, newspaper columnists and writers of letters to the editor. A good collection of some of these are in the Opinionline section of today's USA Today (Sept. 18 -- Click the blog title, above). A theological commentary is also in order, perhaps along this line: Rudeness, in pyschospiritual perspective, might be a lack of confidence in our humanity. Our "humanity" is sometimes blamed for, and made the scapegoat for, the fact that we are fallible: "I'm only human." But an accurate view of our humanity doesn't leave us stuck in a closed, hopeless condition. We are human in this particular sense, that we are "fearfully and wonderfully made," and made "in the Image of God." This humanity can be embraced without excuses.

A nagging uncertainty and suspicion about our self worth can make anyone, when challenged with a difficulty or a perceived affront, strike out against, protest against, an uneasy emptyness with a bellicose, out of proportion hyperagression. If our calling is to be peacemakers and children of God (ala the Sermon on the Mount) and we are not confident that that is our vocation -- or if we decline to be empowered to that vocation -- then is rudeness the blustery speech of an alter ego, built like the Tower of Babel, to acheive by false means an alternate identity? If not a peacemaker, then one perpetually on the warpath, sufficient in and of himself, brooking no threats to his personal and private priorities? How do we justify rudeness except along these lines? Is rudeness the symptom of this kind of insecurity, that, refusing or fearing to trust that humanity hinges for meaning upon the intents of the Creator, must put down, belittle and humiliate in order to guarantee this faux and alternate identity?

What we don't want to do when we get caught being rude and belligerent is say "Well, I'm just human," and "I say what I think." We have a chance for our humanity not to be a closed system ("That's just who I am"), but open to a bigger future. "I'm just human" doesn't seem to want to take that into account, and doesn't do justice to our humanity. Yes, human, but as such created in the image of God, requiring of us, for that reason, to be responsible to ask for help to shine up the image when it gets tarnished, and not just say the tarnish is fine the way it is -- "I kinda like that tarnish: nice color, really." "I'm just human," and "I say what I think," are usually said just after we've been particularly WAY too human, or after we've said something really stupid. A simple "I'm sorry" is much simpler, sincere.

I wonder if there's really a prayer lurking in the phrase "I'm only human." That phrase doesn't sound like it could be said with confidence. Usually said under pressure, it sounds apologetic. It might be said in defiance, but even then it doesn't ring true as a proud assertion. Maybe it's really an admission of a desire to be a better human than we've just shown ourselves to be. But to use "I'm only human" as an excuse makes us want to say, "There, there: it's OK, but you can do better than that." Theologically, God loves us the way we are, but calls us, with his Spirit's guidance, to be the best we can be, accepting the grace available by virtue of the love of Christ. Again, we don't need to make excuses for the humanity God has given us.

If we are confident that we are still "under construction" we won't need to make these kinds of excuses. An apology helps, but there's even help before that so that we don't get in as many of those kinds of embarrassing moments in the first place -- as we might without God's Spirit working within us. Confidence in these inner workings gives us a confidence outwardly to be problem solvers in a world of conflict.

The Opinionline quote from the Dallas Morning News is particularly insightful, I think: "...[Name] thanked supporters for 'understanding that I am human.' ...We'd like to remind [name] that it's that shared sense of humanity that demands that we all treat each other better. Indeed, humans have the unique ability -- and, therefore, the responsibility -- to attack adversity with both passion and poise." Check the link for some other very insightful comments. ~GKS

Tear Down the Walls Concert

2009-09-10T12:26:00.028-05:00

The “Tear Down the Walls” concert in Memphis last week was a great testimony not only to religious tolerance as an idea, but to the importance of actively creating community among all people. But, question: Do we tear down walls by developing tolerance, or by trying to abolish differences among us?

Perhaps you have come across bumper stickers, or seen someone’s personal quote on facebook like “All religions are the same” or “God is too big to be confined to any one religion.” These slogans promote religious tolerance, at one level, which at the least is a cultural necessity. But those who pray and worship will have to figure out what this means: “God is too big to be confined to any one religion.” Does eliminating intolerance, as Richard Dawkins, for instance, believes, require jettisoning all religion? Is religion in all its forms inherently "intolerant?" "Tearing down walls" doesn't mean, I think, nor did the concert organizers (practicing religious folk) mean, that we need to obliterate differences among groups of people, and substitute, for instance, the renunciation of a narrow and perhaps fanatical sectarianism for a new common religion with no particular content other than goodness in the abstract. Anything that exists merely in the abstract as amorphous, ethereal, and indistinct is usually unknowable, unhelpful, meaningless and unattractive; such a "blob," pictured in C rated science fiction movies, is menacing, lurking, scheming -- or at least misunderstood. "Tearing down walls" is about a real kind of tolerance, the kind that costs us something, demands something from us. Tolerance demands substituting humility for certainty, but without requiring the abandonment of the particularities of a particular faith tradition.

Most religious folks believe that we are all created in God’s image, and in every human face we see the same God we worship in our own way. But still, there seem to be definite differences between God as understood in one religion and in another. So, do we accept the implication of the bumper sticker that because differences exist, one's religion is better let go of than risk it turning into a source of intolerance and enmity? Problem: to use an argument from mystery (the God who is big) against mystery (better off not exploring that mystery through a particular revelation of that mystery), isn’t good logic.

We all remember jokes like “A priest and a rabbi and a minister walk into a bar….” [Actually, the funniest along that line continues, “and the bartender said ‘What is this, some kind of joke!?” -- never mind.] The implication was, as is the case today, that these three knew each other and got along pretty well. At the highschool baccalaureate, for instance, no one thought it offensive that the Catholic priest ended by making the sign of the Cross, or that the Protestant minister concluded “…through Jesus Christ our Lord,” or that the rabbi used a Hebrew phrase. Point being, we can be "peculiar," or, in a technical sense, "particular." Some might say being "particular" means being true to “who we are” – and that it is not in the interest of developing tolerance to water down “who we are” in public so as not to "offend" in the abstract. The three knew themselves to be friends, and would have enjoyed the wealth of each other’s tradition, and, mindful of their differences, in humility would have “suspended judgment” about their respective beliefs, content to leaving it to God to sort out in the end. In the meantime there were good times to be enjoyed together.

There are attempts to reconcile the different religions. Christianity does it by saying that what we see as good and true in any religion is also seen in the Person of Jesus. Muslims, Jews and Christians recognize the One God of the monotheistic faiths. In their ethical dimensions, Buddhism and Hinduism emphasize the world's oneness through compassion to our fellow beings. And attempts at reconciliation evolve. See, for instance, Pope Benedict's recent remarkable address to the Muslim leaders of Cameroon in Yaounde on March 19: (http://thebostonpilot.com/article.asp?ID=10823). This seeking of common ground, however, is not the same as what is meant, I believe, by the jingoisms "All religions boil down to the same thing," and "All religions lead us to God." In the end, tolerant people believe (what is also taught officially in Catholicism and elsewhere) that God honors the individual's effort to be in right relationship with the Divine to the extent one can discern that through serious seeking. Jingoisms like "We're all going to the same place, so what's the fuss?" and "All religions are the same," are not the same as real tolerance because they cost nothing; in effect or by design, they obfuscate and dismiss rather than probe and explore.

The mutual tolerance of our friends the priest, the rabbi and the minister, did not mean, I’m pretty sure, that each was not seriously convinced he had been given an insight that the others hadn’t yet grasped. Their tolerance does mean, however, that humility always trumps certainty.

If God is an Idea, rather than a person, then God as idea is definitely too big to fit into one religion. If God is an amorphous blob of goodness, like a big down comforter with no discernable edges, then trying to stuff "It" into one religion would be like stuffing a king sized comforter into one pillowcase: part will keep popping out, because ideas can generate endless counterarguments. But if God is known in relationship rather than as an idea or a philosophy -- as he has chosen in Christianity, for example-- then it helps to probe and go deeper into a particular revelation in order to know God and let God, through the particulars of a person's faith, lead her to insights and relationships that sustain, strengthen and encourage.

What is definitely true is that God is too big for us to be certain that we’ve got it right, even if remaining committed to our faith costs us a great deal. We use our minds as best we can, in humility, not having to abandon the fascinating pursuit of mystery through one religion in order to “keep ourselves above the fray,” so as "not to offend," but to find in other religions good we hadn’t yet thought about. We “Work out our salvation in fear and trembling,” and we keep working to Tear Down the Walls. ~ GKS

2009-08-26T09:26:00.004-05:00

August 25, 2009: "Why do we Suffer?" or "How do we Suffer?"
It wasn't the fact that a Baptist became a Buddhist (link: “Raleigh man looks to help end soldiers' suffering as Army's 1st Buddhist chaplain”, August 23 Commercial Appeal), but it’s the reason he did which caught my eye. Chaplain: "The question that arose in my mind is, 'Why is there so much suffering?' Christianity did not have a satisfactory answer.” Usually the issue around suffering is not Why – “Why so much suffering?” Instead of “Why?” the usual question is “How?”: “How do we cope with the reality of suffering?” Granted, on a theoretical plane, there is the question about why a good God would allow suffering in the first place. But that is a pretty rarified question in most people's experience. Suffering is a part of everyday reality: one eventually dies, and the process of dying might involve pain and suffering. Working backward from the finality of death, we may be devastated by the premature death of a loved one, still, we acknowledge "it happens." Suffering, for both young and old, is part of the mortality we face. Another question about suffering is: "If a good God allows suffering, does that mean that we are essentially abandoned in the universe? Does our heavenly Father, if there is one, just not care enough about us to protect us from harm?" This is an objection to Christianity, not just to the reality of mortality. Perhaps this was a turning point in the chaplain's conversion to Buddhism.

The primary problem from the Chaplain's point of view was "Why is there so much suffering?" rather than "How do we make sense out of suffering?" The different question also indicates a different starting point from where Christians begin to deal with suffering. A Christian looks at the crucifixion of Jesus as a bottom line reality—the crucifixion was "the worst that evil people can do to the best of people" — the intentional infliction of suffering -- and sees the same story played out over and over again in history. He/she takes "man's inhumanity to man" as a given for the time being, and asks "How can we make sense of this?" Does our heavenly Father not care?!" Buddhism starts from a different perspective, one from which suffering is said to be "illusion" [a loose translation of a technical term]. If suffering is illusory, then one deals with suffering by denying its grip upon us by denying its reality; not by denial as we usually think of it, as burying our heads in the sand, but intentionally, strategically “withdrawing” to a haven of peace totally "outside" our experience. When Jesus refers to “Heaven,” it is a metaphor for a “place” where life -- especially life marked by degradation, cruelty and suffering— where life’s dignity and worth, are preserved, kept safe, and championed. The Buddhist haven —Nirvana— is in the first place a "place" free from the reality of life we (seem to) experience, inextricably mixed with pain and suffering. Nirvana is completely, totally, outside this vale of tears and sorrow. Heaven, on the other hand, is a "place" where suffering is redeemed and affirmed as having value. Heaven in this sense is connected with our experience of this world: The Resurrection champions life created as material, and affirms its materiality. Resurrection celebrates a "new creation," a new materiality -- as a continuation of the goodness we experience now. (For more on the idea of Heaven as “place,” see NT Wright, Surprised by Hope, p. 250-252.)

We may throw up our hands at this point: "Way too complicated for me." But at least in the back of our minds these questions keep coming up. A BIG part of the world keeps trying to make sense of these things, especially when we see others sacrifice their lives for something beyond themselves. We may say "I think the mystery is too great to be contained in one religion." Rather than saying "Whew -- this is just too heavy for me," this point of view acknowledges that here is a mystery worthy of pondering. But "I think the mystery is too great to be contained in one religion." is also an argument stuck in contradiction: an argument from mystery, but against mystery. If we want to go deeper into the mystery, we can't avoid mystery: we have to start somewhere. There are lots of ways to look into these things. People come to church, or to synagogue, or to an ashram, to explore mystery and embrace it, not to fend off the deep questions and reassure themselves by substituting certainty for humility. The Chaplain started somewhere, and his pursuit led him to an unexpected place. We could well have that same goal. More about this next week. ~

Dreaming While Walking ~ August 15, 2009

2009-08-15T16:08:00.004-05:00

Dreaming While Walking: Last blog’s thoughts on a news article about dreams was still in mind when I sat down in the chair in the kitchen next to our basket of books, old magazines, the Bible, and last week's NYTimes (you have such a place, no doubt -- a creative corner). My creative moments seem to be the connection of ideas and geography, literally: I remembered something interesting, and looked for it in the geography of the book basket. It was a book about the Camino de Santiago brought back as a gift by newlyweds Mitch and Vanesa from their honeymoon in Spain.

That set me looking for another book: "Walk in a Relaxed Manner: Life Lessons From the Camino," in which geography and ideas and dreams are connected as one walks the flat expanses of the medieval Camino pilgrimage. The route is called the "Camino de Santiago de Compostela" ~ "The Way of St. James," sometimes referred to simply as "The Compostela." The "compo" in Compostela is the flat plane (field) near the pilgrimage destination city of Santiago. "Stela" = "stars," so clear in the early morning sky along the way.

Why mention the stars? Not just because they're pretty, but because they put the pilgrim in mind of the religious dimension of the pilgrimage? A look at the awesome majesty of God? Which raises the questions A) Why go on pilgrimage, and, if we’re intent on walking the distance, B) shouldn’t we be looking at the ground, and not up at stars?

Journeys through fields are dreamlike a recent movie reminds us, and dreams are drawn from emotional experience. Pilgrims then and now may go on the Camino for a particular reason: to work through the death of a spouse, the end of a vocation, the beginning of parenthood. Sometimes walking the Camino was a penance, or some other effort to make a new start. The walk was and is a walk on a mystical path. The Compostella is a walk through a field of dreams.

In "Walk in a Relaxed Manner," life lessons are drawn from the total experience of putting one foot in front of the other across a day. One chapter is about different people one meets along the way. Different groups form for a day or more. My wife and daughter (who walked the 500 miles 8 years ago) spent several days with a group of singing, joking, dancing young men who turned out to be Franciscan novices. Another chapter says the Camino teaches us to acknowledge the kindness of strangers. A doctor walks around the huespedes (hostel) at night attending to anyone’s blisters. We are humbled by weakness; we learn we have sources of renewal and strength just when we’re most tired, and so on.

Fields of dreams stretch between our front yard and the neighbor’s, a half mile away, and across greater distances of time and geography. A walk in the morning before work, with the dog, changes the way we both live the rest of the day. Movements of the body teach us to reach for stars. We walk through the day; our day can be a pilgrimage, for the purpose of knowing and loving God more, and working on those things in our lives that glancing up at the stars will help. GKS

Sabbath Rest, Creativity and Dreams

2009-07-23T14:41:00.012-05:00

Dear Friends, The article above is a sidebar to a larger article appearing June 9, 2009 in the Commercial Appeal, by Frank Greve (McClatchy Newspapers). I came across it as I was reading about "Sabbath," and "rest" as reasonable things to ponder during summer vacation. More things happen, perhaps, when we are resting than when we are working? How could that be?

To believe what the article is saying we might also have to believe that as active agents in scientific, or artistic, or any kind of endeavor, the "me" I and others know (my particular self) -- is as often passive to forces of creativity --I am "acted upon," so to speak -- as I am able, even when active and conscious, to take credit for what I produce. One might say, I suppose, that whether we are awake or asleep, it's the same me, therefore I can take credit for whatever insights that might happen in my sleep. But I have read of some of the discoveries listed, and the folks to whom this happens don't seem to be saying or feeling that: they are as surprized as anyone.

Dreams are mentioned 118 times in the Bible. It's as if God were to say, "The only time I seem to be able to get through to you is when you're conked out and quiet enough to listen --- for a change. Give it a break! Rest, listen to me, and learn." We have to let go of our egos long enough for this unbidden insight to emerge, and it happens most when we least expect it, in our sleep and when we rest. The psychiatrist Carl Jung had a secular explanation for the same experience. What a great way to live! Go to sleep with a sense of wonder, intrigue and expectation: "What will God say to me while I sleep?!"

I have come to believe that there is more to me than me: that I am in relationship with God, and can exercise a more creative, (literally) marvelous synergy with him, than I can achieve without him. When we rest, whether asleep or by quieting ourselves in prayer, we make room for the "more," who stands beside us always (the Holy Spirit), who helps us appreciate that we are "fearfully and marvellously made." (Ps. 139:14)

Has this ever happened to you: You go to bed knowing you need to wake up at 6am. In the morning you turn over and look at the clock a split second before the alarm sounds? Perhaps just knowing the clock is there reminds you to wake up? Why not test this principle for yourself. Read a passage of scripture before you go to bed at night. Upon waking, have a pen and notepad at your bedside and jot down what might have come to mind. The notepad and pen might help you remember your dream. Then ask if that dream had anything to do with the passage you read (from the Bible or any other) just before falling asleep.

For those interested more in dreams in the Bible, I suggest:
The Power of Dreams in the Bible by Walter Brueggemann

http://www.religion-online.org/showarticle.asp?title=3218

St. George's also has a Dream adult education group led by Dr. Sue Bannister.

GKS

St. Swithin, Sabbath and Winchester Cathedral

2009-07-15T16:57:00.014-05:00

Friends, the blog this week is pretty silly; read only if you have some time on your hands -- which is the whole point ~ we need to have "time on our hands" -- we need time to rest -- really rest. In fact, if we are to really rest we need "too much time on our hands:" if there's no wiggle room (the too much) then we'll probably be stingely measuring out the little time we think we have, which is anxiety producing, not relaxing. The blog (click on the title, above) is an essay on the meaning of the words to "Winchester Cathedral," especially the line "oh-bo- DE-O -do-de-do –duh," definitely the result of having too much time on my hands that evening.

"Taking time" is related to the concept of "Sabbath." The sermon last Sunday tried to get at the importance of observing "Sabbath" in a way that works for us. The season of summer lends itself to observing Sabbath: the remembrance in childhood of that first day of summer ~ no school, nothing to do but relax and enjoy. But even now I used the word "importance:" far too serious for relaxing. Relaxing has to include fun, somehow: Mircea Eliade wrote a book called "Homo Ludens," the point being that to be human is to "play." Worship is in a way, play. In liturgy and prayer we step out of chronos time (by which we keep track of tasks that need to be done), and into kairos time (as in "it's time to make a change"). Sabbath is stepping into kairos time.

What does this have to do with St. Swithin Day? He was a laid back saint, presiding over the building of a cathedral, but not by double checking the architect's plans and the books, but by sitting outside (where he later wanted to be buried (not under the Altar)), "so as to encourage the workmen." So last Sunday we tried follow suit: Exultemus, a new band arrangement of "Winchester Cathedral" with a proper essay on the lyrics, water fights (those who wanted to dig up Swithin's bones had trouble with the rain, twice), picnic, music, Society of Creative Anachronisms. It's good to have too much time on our hands -- at least now and then. Be sure to look at the photo gallery from our website. ~ GKS

2009-07-09T16:44:00.020-05:00

Politicians in the News:

“There is none that is Good, but God alone”

In the “Ideas” section of the Boston Sunday Globe, July 5, 2009, was an article entitled “The Nature of Temptation,” a follow up on the recent publicity given the marital infidelities of two US Senators (with many others, recapped). The article’s particular slant of trying to figure out why statements of morally conservative spokesmen are so often at odds with their behavior suggests differences between popular culture’s notion of what is “Good,” and the way Christians might think about the same thing. Even if one professes Christian ideals, he may in fact be embracing a cultural concept of Good at odds with the biblical notion of the role of goodness in our lives.

The Globe article looks at how people who try to do good often slip away from their "ideals." The writer points out that some closely held ideals may in fact counter a temptation to commit the very thing fought against, and that “…virtuous deeds are often a form of penance for thoughts a person is ashamed of.” Other examples are that human self control when exerted steadily, like a muscle, eventually tires. Quoting researchers, we may have instead of a moral compass “a moral “thermostat” reacting to “a sort of ‘moral set point,’ stubbornly set to a comfortable moral mediocrity.”

The analogies are insightful; at the same time we aren't fated for "moral mediocrity" if --big "if"-- we try to understand "goodness" as only a byproduct of the spiritual life, not as an ideal to be aimed at, or to be grasped for its own sake. Goodness for goodness' sake is idolatrous. ("Principles," and "Ideals," may fall into the same category; they may be useful descriptors within the field of ethics, but they are not, either, ends in themselves. This particular "approach" distinguishes philosophy, technically, from spirituality.) Christian psychology, illustrated through the teachings of Jesus, unlike Christianity as professional "do-goodism," describes a relationship with God, the source of all Goodness, that isn’t dependent upon our being Good.

Don’t we have views about what is right and wrong, and what is true and false, and good and bad? Yes, of course. But our identity as Christians, and our relationship with God is not determined primarily by our being “Good,” however we might define that. What is this relationship, and how might living it keep us off the front pages of the paper?

Our relationship with God calls out to a “higher self,” and demands that we act justly and exercise compassion when we might be tempted to act selfishly. But still, the message, I believe, is not essentially "fight harder" in order to be on the winning team for good over evil, but “Relax!” We are created in the image of God; we are created loveable and capable; we are a spiritual organism whose nature is to thrive and grow, like all other organisms. If we fail to thrive, it may be the result, paradoxically, of trying to live up to constricting societal or self-imposed, or parentally -- or religiously -- imposed ideals. This is arguably as much a root cause of making a bad choice as committing to a morally culpable, destructive and evil act over an act of kindness.

The opposite of love is not hate, so that we have to go into a battle armed against temptation, a battle for good, the article points out, we might very well lose. The opposite of love is not hate, but fear, and trusting ("faithing," as a Christian might say), as in developing a relationship, displaces fear and makes room to develop compassion -- especially for those who have "fallen from grace." The right kind of spiritual battle is a battle within ourselves to practice displacing fear with trust, as in a relationship, and not a fight to champion an external ideal of "goodness." It's exactly when we're not aiming at goodness, that it seems to happen: "a good time", for example, is always noticed in hindsight; it is never the goal at the time. (And, can anyone really "fall from grace?" Isn't the experience of grace precisely having already fallen, then been given the gift of God's friendship through repentance, yet again? Supposedly Christian terminology ("fall" / "grace") used in a purely cultural sense distorts the Christian message.)

Those who might scoff at the downfall of people in such a strait as the disgraced politicians ("dis-graced" not in any biblical sense, because we are most open to receive God's grace, never deprived of it, when in the position of the man on the front page, as in our example) -- (those who might scoff) may in fact be of a very similar mindset, insofar as one's focus might still be on an ideal, albeit one other than a (supposedly) Christian one: there may be many different visions of "Good," but that's still the problem: “The good that I would do, I do not, and the evil I would not do, that I do. O who will deliver me from this body of death?! Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!” (Romans 7:24-25) There is another way.

As Christians we do try to do good -- but in “an oblique way:” Christians are not professional “do gooders,” and the essence of Christianity is not morality (living up to ideals). Morality is the fruit of a relationship, never credited to one's account as an individual's private accomplishment, because the focus of love is not oneself, but the other. Morality is not ideals successfully realized in behavior, but the byproduct of a focus not on the self's ability to be good, but on a humble walking with God, passing along the compassion one has experienced from him, to others. Along the other path, paragons of virtue (that phrase: we inherently dislike people who are "too good," don't we?), who aim to be good, as often as not shoot themselves in the foot, as the article points out.

The Gospel message is that “It’s not about you!” For some, that comes as good news, and is a relief. Others would rather have it be “about me,” despite the frustration that follows. The Gospel’s version of Good News is about relaxing -- trusting, that is -- in an accepting, forgiving God, who, through his acceptance allows us to take ourselves lightly, not ignoring sin, but simply, quietly, “looking over the shoulder of temptation” instead of imagining ourselves in an epic, titanic struggle, hoping to be crowned the victor and being recognized – publicly would be nice -- as “Good.” It’s not about us: Jesus said “Why do you call me good? There is none that is Good, but God alone.” True repentance, as the counterpoint to God's unconditional acceptance of us, is aimed for, and is the pyschological dynamic operating 180 degrees from the self-aggrandizement of our striving to be recognized as "a good person."

It’s always the penitent, and not the righteous, who are closer to God: their good deeds, their goodness as people, are almost unknown to them, so fixed are they not on themselves, but on God and the friendship he offers through Christ. If we forget this, we might end up on the evening news. ~ GKS