Posts filed under 'Religion'
March 17th, 2008
We gathered in the anteroom and were given palm fronds to hold. After a prayer of blessing we formed a line and entered the sanctuary, palm leaves in hand. Once around the sanctuary while singing “Ride on, Ride on in Majesty,” and then to our seats.
In the mean time Jesus had found a place at the front. Judas was in the back and Peter off to one side. Caiaphas and a few chief priests and elders were above us, up in the balcony. And Pilot was up there as well, standing off on his own.
Thus began the narration with the readers adopting their roles…and as well, a part for us, the crowd. We made our way through Matthew’s description of Judas’s sellout to Caiaphas, Jesus’ anguish in the garden, the betrayal of Peter, and the desertion of the disciples.
As a crowd, we found our voices during the trial. In response to Pilate’s question about who to release we said, “Barabbas.” And in reply to Pilate’s, “Then what should I do with Jesus who is called the Messiah?” We all said, “Let him be crucified!”
Of course there was no resemblance to the dusty, sweaty, bloody, event. No one was dressed for the part. And while we tried, “the crowd” was lacking conviction…and yet, in that cavernous sanctuary there was this second, one meteoric moment where I was placed in the swirling fomenting mood of the bloodthirsty crowd, calling, with everybody else, “Crucify him!”
Liturgy, this liturgy, was an iconic entrance into an event where symbol confronted me with the actual.
March 15th, 2008
Two stories from the Reuters news service, reprinted in today’s Edmonton Journal, should bring a measure of hope to our tattered world. (These are Grow Mercy news stories.)
The first story is about Senegal’s president, Abdoulaye Wade. His county is hosting the world’s biggest Islamic conference, the 57-nation Organization of the Islamic Conference (OIC). And in Abdoulaye Wade’s address to the Islamic organization he said believed the past antagonism between Islam and Christianity should be consigned to history, and not be allowed to trigger a clash of civilizations. “The era of crusades and jihads is over and Muslims and Christians should strive to coexist and not allow extremists to drag the world into a war of religions.” Senegal practises a tolerant brand of Islam and Wade publicly opposes those who wage war in the name of Islam. It’s moderate leaders like Abdoulaye Wade that desperately need to be heard, and it’s a news story like this that needs airing on networks like CNN.
The second story is about “atheist China’s Ministry of Civil Affairs issuing a licence to the Taiwan Buddhist charity group Tzu Chi.The Buddhist group has been quietly conducting charity work in China for almost two decades. This is the stuff of history because Tzu Chi is the first foundation in China in which a non-mainland resident serves as the legal representative.
Of further interest to me is that the main reason China’s “atheist Communist rulers” have made the “landmark concession,” is so they can “use Buddhism to help curb rising social unrest and help fill an ideological vacuum which has spawned corruption and eroded ethics in the post-Mao era.”
Is this a recognition that atheism, without something like a humanist manifesto, without something that points beyond itself, without something like a transcendent view–something which according to Richard Dawkin’s et al, is not atheism–is in the end impoverished and socially debilitating? Or is this just China’s experience of imposed atheism?
But the real story remains the work of the Tzu Chi Foundation. For those of us who used to think Buddhist philosophy always mitigated against any real efforts of social compassion and practical relief, the Tzu Chi foundation should put us straight.
(Above: Tzu Chi relief team caring for maimed Palestinian refugee children.)
March 12th, 2008
In 1971 there was a Christian revival in Saskatchewan. I was caught in it, swept up in it like a broken straw in a prairie gust. My uncle, his two sons and I drove the 200 miles to Saskatoon to hear the “Sutera twins,” Ralph and Lou. My uncle had heard there was something going on at the crusade in Saskatoon and in a move to “save” his sons–one, a responsible son who I thought didn’t need saving, and a wild one, the one I hung out with, who probably did.
In Saskatoon the wild one and I slipped out of the auditorium after the first hymn. This was the big city. We wandered the nearby streets and checked out the neon lights and tall buildings. We became curious about the diagonal crosswalks the city had at the time and we crossed back and forth, controlling the traffic on all four sides.
I was hoping that the revival meeting would be wrapping up when we returned, but the place was just getting electric, the twins were on the rheostat turning up the voltage. Or, as either Ralph or Lou said, “The Holy Spirit’s finger was pointing at people.” We made our way back, close to where we’d been. Soon one of the preacher twins, came to the precipice of his soul searing message: “Choose now or it may be too late.” Then came the “call.” Then the full-on piano and the rising tide of “Just as I am…without one plea…” Then the streaming eyes and the tributaries of people in pews moving to the aisles and forming rivers of penitent souls flowing to the front for prayer. My uncle and cousins were swept up in the current with me hanging on to some exposed root. I scrambled up the bank and out of the heavy doors into the street. I waited and paced under a gas light. Shivering some.
In a few minutes my cousin, the wild one, now wilder, came to get me, said I needed to come back inside. He was not so much pleading but pulling me back through the high doors down a carpeted hall into a room torrid and moist by sweat and tears. No resolve left, I was on my knees from the weight of hands on my head and shoulders, upon which came a crescendo of intoned supplication. And with that I was up with an inexplicable smile, invaded by a brightness and a lightness. I was in fact quite high and vertiginous. Full, I supposed, of the Holy Ghost.
On the giddy ride back, we cousins planned the conversion of the rest of the “gang.” Which didn’t quite work out.
March 11th, 2008
My mother isn’t a feminist. She was born a few years after women were given the right to vote, that is, when women became “legally human.” (Check out this timeline.) Her role as a woman was pretty much mapped out for her. Not that I’ve ever heard her complain. But sometimes I wonder…
She is, as we all are, a product of her time and place; but her “place” was primarily given to her from the point of view of the church.
It has been the church that has roped off and relegated women to a lesser realm. (Catholic and many Evangelical churches are still examples.) And it has been government and secular agencies that have progressed towards gender equality. But primarily because they were pushed by women who refused to be content, who risked being vilified often and misunderstood constantly. Women who were seen as anti-Christian even when they followed the Gospel.
Has the church and its leaders (mea culpa) ever lead the way? Why, when the sometime chauvinist Apostle Paul, had the foresight to see the direction of things? (”There is neither male nor female…but all are one in Christ.” Of course here most pastors gave us to understand that this was an eschatological utterance, having nothing to do with the then and there and here and now.)
And why has the church so little egalitarian traction when we have an exemplar par excellence who modeled this basic understanding? Here’s Dorothy Sayers’ thought:
Perhaps it is no wonder that the women were first at the cradle and last at the cross. They had never known a man like this Man- there never has been another. A prophet and teacher who never nagged at them, never flattered or coaxed or patronized; who never made arch jokes about them, never treated them as “’The women, God help us!’ or ‘The ladies, God bless them!’; who rebuked without querulousness and praised without condescension; who took their questions and arguments seriously; who never mapped out their sphere for them, never urged them to be feminine or jeered at them for being female; who had no axe to grind and no uneasy male dignity to defend; who took them as he found them and was completely unselfconscious… Nobody could possibly guess from the words and deeds of Jesus that there was anything ‘funny’ about women’s nature.”
But in spite of the ambivalence in fundamentalist churches, sphere mapping for women is inevitably breaking down. I’m taking the liberty of sharing a quote from a recent email I received. “There is such a wave of strength in the collective conscious of the women around me lately. We’re realizing that we don’t need permission from the men in our church to lead. We refuse to be treated as second-class children of God. It’s amazing how the awakening is rippling out—the more I talk to women, the more I hear the same voices. We will use our gifts! We will be who God made us!”
January 2nd, 2008
Yesterday I again came upon the thirteenth century Sufi, Jalal al-Din Rumi. My encounter with him was through the book "The Islamist"–which is Ed Husain's story of his early fascination and adoption of Islamic fundamentalism, his subsequent disillusionment, and finally his journey away from indoctrination.
During his move away from that extremist form of Islam he began reading Sufi literature and while visiting Turkey he "met" Rumi.
His story reminded me of this particular poem of Rumi's. Perhaps it can act as a kind of launch pad into the New Year. If and when it fits, consider it your Grow Mercy New Year's blessing.
Be with those who help your being 
Be with those who help your being.
Don’t sit with indifferent people, whose breath
comes cold out of their mouths.
Not these visible forms, your work is deeper.
A chunk of dirt thrown in the air breaks to pieces.
If you don’t try to fly,
and so break yourself apart,
you will be broken open by death,
when it’s too late for all you could become.
Leaves get yellow. The tree puts out fresh roots
and makes them green.
Why are you so content with a love that turns you yellow?
Happy New Year!
December 9th, 2007
In a discussion about truth on a Benedictine forum I’m on, it occurred to me that I can become quite dogmatic in my belief that access to ultimate truth is impossible; as dogmatic as some who hold to the accessibility of ultimate truth. The irony was not lost on me. In any case, in trying to explain my position just a bit more, I think I may be dismissed by both fundamentalists and liberal-liberals. As follows:
What I’ve needed to do is distance myself from the category “Ultimate Truth,” because when I lifted the cover I found that it was an “ideal,” an apotheosis, a non-such, and so in the end it didn’t touch me. In other words, I believe “Ultimate Truth” is disembodied truth. And the claimed possession of this category of truth is what lies inside every form of fundamentalism.
I held to this in a kind of half-conscious way through much of my early life until it got to me in a truly existential way–over several classes and coffees with a recalcitrant philosophy professor–that as a contingent being I could have no direct contact with the ultimate ground of Being, or rather, the transcendent ideal of all Perfection.
Subsequently, my heart’s attraction to St. Benedict was his earthy, fleshy, communal, faith. This, and his sign-off humility that if I find a better way, a practice that corresponds to reality more fully, and therefore holds more fruit, well, then, I should seek it out.
(Intermission: Upon exiting the show pavilion in the Muttart last weekend we were informed that all the multi-coloured poinsettia’s, with of course the exception of the red and white ones, were painted. So some silliness here. Is the statement: ”This is a blue poinsettia,” true or false? )
To my mind it’s better to drop the adjective and simply talk about truth. Jesus never said, he was the “ultimate” truth, as if ultimate was somehow more “truthy” than regular truth.
When Jesus says he is the truth, he is making truth accessible. He is saying that truth is found, discovered, learned, in relationship, and specifically in a relationship with him, and therefore profoundly and mysteriously, in relationships with our neighbours.
He is saying–by virtue of relational not relative truth–that truth has a shape, has contours, and so may look different from different angles but that this doesn’t make it false. What’s more, he is saying that we will continually be lead into truth if we keep our ears open to the Spirit he sent. But that this truth is still always mediated truth. And, in this he is disassociating himself from the “Greek” or “Platonic” notion of truth–from where the idea of “Ultimate Truth” sprang.
“Ultimate Truth” is, again, not accessible because its claim is that it is beyond the personal. Which, unless one has received some kind of unmediated emanation, would make it the most untrustworthy sort of “truth.” (If “Ultimate Truth” was accessible, other people would not be required.)
Some years ago and someplace in here I had to hold up a mirror and see that my marching banner of “Ultimate Truth” was not only a phantom, it was also effacing and condescending and that it effectively relativized other truths and ways of understanding and so broke off any dialogue before it began. I had to recognize my own part in creating, if not hostility, a profound indifference to the Church and the Christian faith.
November 11th, 2007
Perhaps I wasn’t really listening, perhaps I too was caught up in a kind of collective amnesia over the evil of war that seems is at its height this time of year. Perhaps I was too caught up in the spirit of the poppy that sees any kind of detraction from the geist of this commemoration, or ritual, as treasonous.
But this year, upon listening to a reading of “In Flanders Field” I was repelled. Please understand, I hold no disdain, only sympathy, for the veteran who read it and I have only sincere sadness for the war dead the poem regards. And for the Canadian poet of “In Flanders Fields,” Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, (1872-1918), I hold no aversion, only a grievous sort of empathy.
Not so for the poem. It’s a disaster. It’s terminal message, a message we have enduringly embraced perpetuates our plague. (Just for the record John McCrae, for reasons known only to himself, threw the poem away. It was retrieved by a fellow officer.) It reads:
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
While the living fight the wars, it is the dead that sustain war. Always the dead. We are manacled to the dead through errant patriotism, through a kind of Don Cherry vindicatory vision of justice, and through our inability to see our enemy as human.
The poem cries out…humans on our side have died, and they were not like those who killed them, they were like us, they loved and experienced beauty. And now, slaughtered in war, it is up to us to avenge them; up to us to “hold high the torch” and to “take up the quarrel.” (Quarrel?) And if we fail, “break faith,” the dead will have no peace.
The poem is mythologized blackmail. And we will always succumb to the lure of war as justified revenge no matter what the original “quarrel,” unless we begin to forget.
It is time for some selective forgetting. It is time to forget the spirit and message of this poem and insert some poetry from Siegfried Sassoon. Sasoon, also a decorated WW I veteran, exposed not merely the horror of war, but its meaninglessness.
Is it possible to have the dexterity of heart and mind to compassionately remember the war dead, without in any way honouring and legitimizing war? Well, not if we adhere to the message of ” In Flanders Fields.”
Unless we wish to remember war’s pointless destruction, the epithet, “Lest we Forget,” perpetually serves war. An open-eyed “lest we remember,” must be our new commemoration.
September 28th, 2007
This morning I found this posted on a couple of Myanmar/Burmese Blogs.
BaganNet, Myanmar’s main ISP has been shut down for so-called “maintenance reasons” and most of the telecommunication services have been cut off or tapped. Information flow out of the country has been strictly monitored and even the amateur photographers are warned to be very careful as the Junta is hunting down the sources.
Numbers of blog posts have been reduced tremendously these days; nevertheless it’s very encouraging to see that some freedom bloggers are still in contact with the outside world and are working their best to keep the world up-to-date with latest Myanmar news.
The marches begun by monks and nuns, are still going on even as the crackdown has begun. That the telecommunication links are being cut is an ominous sign.
Small things still count. You can sign a petition to support the people of Burma here. The petition will be sent to United Nations Security Council members (including the dictatorship’s main backer China) and to media at the UN, while also alerting the Burmese to our support:
September 18th, 2007
While initially heartened by Iraq’s cancellation of Blackwater’s licence to do “business” in Iraq–the revocation coming because of the killing of 11 Iraqi civilians in Baghdad–the on-second-thought came quick enough. Second thought: Since when does Iraq tell an American firm what to do?
And sure enough, today, Iraq appears to be backing down from it’s resolve to withdraw Blackwater’s “business” the license.
My interest in Blackwater however is over its founder. You see, Blackwater was founded by Erik Prince, a former Navy SEAL, and a multi-millionaire right-wing fundamentalist Christian from a powerful Michigan Republican family. His wealth came from his father, Edgar Prince, who headed Prince Automotive, an auto parts and machinery manufacturer.
Prince shares Bush’s Christian views and not surprisingly is a major Republican contributor. His social circle includes Gary Bauer, who, with help from his father, started the Family Research Council.
Whether Blackwater is the most powerful mercenary army in the world, with a blank cheque from the Bush administration, as Jeremy Scahill claims in his book, or whether it is just a private security firm operating in a war zone, and other zones–like protecting corporate holdings during the New Orleans flood–one thing is clear; it has become the most successful security organization, and the richest, in the history of security firms (a.k.a. mercenary armies).
And why? Well, probably because Blackwater does have something like a blank cheque from the Bush administration.
September 13th, 2007
I have no doubt that Dr. Charles Stanley is sincere in his desire to encourage the U.S. troops fighting in Iraq. But his “Messenger” struck me as, well, a garish idea.
It’s not so much the smack of self-promotion in the guise of “filling a great need” by providing the army with “spiritual nourishment.” It’s the aura of pronouncement, of the square-toed Sunday school teacher who tells you what it’s like, what you need, when you know he has never been where you’ve been.That is, it’s “In Touch’s” envelope of safe and willing ignorance of what really goes on and what happens to the psyche of soldiers in war, specifically this sad and detestable war. (Here I would implore Charles Stanley’s ”In Touch” readers to go out and pick up Chris Hedges’, “War is a Force That Gives Us Meaning.”)
Now, I’ve disagreed sharply with Stanley on a couple of previous posts–over his Biblical justifications for war, which in effect is a Christian sacralizing of war–so maybe I’m over-reacting, or maybe I’m reacting to him, personally. I’ll let you decide. If you’ve a moment (to squander) here’s what’s on his site:
Thousands of U.S. troops are now stationed around the world. Far from their families, friends, and churches, they have a tremendous need for encouragement and truth from the Scriptures. But their missions often carry them far from a chapel and chaplain.
Understanding the need for spiritual instruction that men and women in combat areas have, Dr. Charles Stanley said, “In Touch wants to help military chaplains share the love of Jesus with U.S. soldiers. Today’s technology is providing amazing ways to share the gospel with people around the world.”
The In Touch Ministries Messenger is a nearly indestructible solar-powered audio device designed specifically for the American soldier. It holds more than 70 hours of messages from the ministry of Dr. Charles Stanley, including these powerful series:
-Facing Life’s Obstacles
-Living the Extraordinary Life
-The Ways of God
-How to Release Your Burdens
-Living in the Power of the Holy Spirit
The need is great, and the Messenger will be a vital tool to provide spiritual nourishment to members of the U.S. military. Its lightweight construction, earphone jack, and solar panels for recharging make it the ideal audio player for troops in the field.
In Touch Ministries is committed to delivering 20,000 Messengers to U.S. troops in August 2007. This initiative is powered by Dr. Stanley’s desire to share the Word of God with military men and women everywhere. But its level of success will be a direct result of the support we receive from In Touch partners.
The good news here is that this is something you can feel good about not supporting.
Just one more thing Dr. Stanley. While your helping the strafed and hunkered troops to “Face Life’s Obstacles,” and “Live the Extraordinary Life,” perhaps you take a couple minutes of those seventy hours to explain how their President, with supporters such as yourself, concluded that their lives were necessarily expendable for the illusion of containment of a terrorist element that will only grow as a result of the war and ongoing occupation, and how, again, the war has nothing to do with the control of a diminishing natural resource. And again, how the gospel endorses all this. Or is everything explained in your new book , Landmine’s in the Path of the Believer? (Yes that’s the title.)
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