Sacred Space

Hard times, open hands

2009-03-09T17:21:00.000-04:00

People respond to economic hard times in differing ways.

Some become paralyzed by fear. Some tighten their grip on money and possessions. Some focus all their efforts on gaining more, by honorable or dishonorable means.

But some people look beyond their own fear of loss and see something more urgent: the needs of others. So they give more, not less, when a charity or church or neighbor asks for help.

Among them are the admirable people who made Charlotte's Critical Needs Response Fund such a success. An outpouring of donations -- $2.6 million worth -- made life easier for many local residents this winter.

What makes giving possible in the face of uncertainty? Gratitude for what you have been given. Compassion for those who struggle. Awareness that you bear the responsibility of being God's hands in the world. Trust that whatever happens, you are loved.

What is your experience? Have you seen people become more or less generous during this recession? Have you become more or less aware of the needs of others?

Living now, in the squeeze

2009-02-19T08:00:00.000-05:00

Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, has the most stunning scenery I've ever seen in person. Like all beautiful wild places, it lifts the human spirit and shakes us out of complacency.

So I'm not surprised that a Tibetan Buddhist monastery was established there. I didn't visit Gampo Abbey when my son and I traveled to Cape Breton two summers ago, although we stayed just a few miles away. We ran out of time and, more important, gasoline -- and the closest gas station was in the other direction. But since then I have discovered the writings of the monastery's resident teacher, Ani Pema Chodron. Here's a sample that is relevant to our ongoing discussion of the role of faith in times of economic uncertainty:

We are given changes all the time. We can either cling to security, or we can let ourselves feel exposed, as if we had just been born, as if we had just popped out into the brightness of life and were completely naked. Maybe that sounds too uncomfortable or frightening, but on the other hand, it's our chance to realize that this mundane world is all there is, and we could see it with new eyes and at long last wake up from our ancient sleep of preconceptions.

The truth, said an ancient Chinese master, is neither like this nor like that. It is like a dog yearning over a bowl of burning oil. He can't leave it, because it is too desirable, and he can't lick it, because it is too hot. So how do we relate to that squeeze? Somehow, someone finally needs to encourage us to be inquisitive about this unknown territory and about the unanswerable question of what's going to happen next.

The state of nowness is available in that moment of squeeze. In that awkward, ambiguous moment is our own wisdom mind. Right there in the uncertainty of everyday chaos is our own wisdom mind.

While I wouldn't say this mundane world is all there is, I am quite certain that facing change as though it is birth does give us new eyes to see the gift of now, the abundant life, even in "the uncertainty of everyday chaos."

How do you react to change and uncertainty? Can it be a place of grace?

The gift of empty hands

2009-02-17T09:00:00.001-05:00

In the last post, I asked how your faith has affected how you deal with the current economic troubles. A wonderful response came by e-mail from the Rev. John Hewett, senior minister at First Baptist Church in Monroe. With his permission, I am publishing it here.

I have rediscovered books bought but never read, trails driven by but never walked, relationships remembered but no longer nourished.

I have learned to savor things still available for free: quietness, laughter, rest, touch, smiles, tears.

I've been forced to trust in God rather than the work of my own hands or the safety of my retirement account.

I've rediscovered the joy of prayer without ceasing.

If it's true that God cannot pour God's riches into hands that are already full, the best gift we could gain at this moment is the gift of empty hands.

To which I add a fervent "Amen!"

Abundance in a time of scarcity

2009-02-12T14:55:00.006-05:00

I walked through Concord Mills the other day with long strides and deliberate blinders. My goal was exercise, not shopping, and I didn't want to be tempted.

The daily economic news is enough to make even spendthrifts put locks on their wallets.
Everyone I know is cutting back: eating out less, putting off purchases, making do.

Budgetary discipline is good. Less focus on material acquisitions is even better. But spending all your time thinking about what you can't buy or shouldn't buy makes you just as much a slave to money as if you were spending all your time shopping or scheming to become wealthy. Either way, you're not living the free, abundant life that religions tell us we were created to enjoy.

I tend to get less antsy about money than about time. There never seems to be enough time to do all that absolutely must be done. So I live in a state of perpetual scarcity despite each day's reliable gift of 24 hours.

I daydream, as most of us do, about what it would be like to have an inexhaustible supply of both money and time. But the truth is that I would not necessarily be more free. True freedom is owning without grasping, giving without resentment, appreciating without craving more.

Yes, I know: This attitude won't pay the mortgage when you've lost your job and your savings. But most of our fretting comes long before we reach that point. And who knows? If we're used to seeing abundance in every circumstance, we might see it even then, in unexpected ways.

How has your faith affected how you deal with the current economic troubles?

Gay bishop: 'Bless us with tears'

2009-01-19T14:52:00.007-05:00

If a bishop spoke at a nationally televised event attended by 400,000, would anyone hear the prayer?

Not as many as you might think.

The Rt. Rev. Gene Robinson, the Episcopal Church's first openly gay bishop, delivered the invocation before Sunday's We Are One inaugural concert. But HBO started its live coverage after the prayer, and a problem with either the microphone or the speakers kept many in the audience from hearing his words.

I'm not among those who attribute this to a conspiracy to silence the controversial clergyman, whose election as bishop has stirred conflict and possible schism in the worldwide Anglican Communion. But I do think it's a shame, because the prayer is unusual in what it requests from God. How many of us would ask for the "blessings" of tears, anger and discomfort?

Here is what Bishop Robinson prayed:

“O God of our many understandings, we pray that you will bless us with tears – tears for a world in which over a billion people exist on less than a dollar a day, where young women in many lands are beaten and raped for wanting an education, and thousands die daily from malnutrition, malaria, and AIDS.

"Bless this nation with anger – anger at discrimination, at home and abroad, against refugees and immigrants, women, people of color, gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people.

"Bless us with discomfort at the easy, simplistic answers we’ve preferred to hear from our politicians, instead of the truth about ourselves and our world, which we need to face if we are going to rise to the challenges of the future.

"Bless us with patience and the knowledge that none of what ails us will be fixed anytime soon, and the understanding that our new president is a human being, not a messiah.

"Bless us with humility, open to understanding that our own needs as a nation must always be balanced with those of the world.

"Bless us with freedom from mere tolerance, replacing it with a genuine respect and warm embrace of our differences.

"Bless us with compassion and generosity, remembering that every religion’s God judges us by the way we care for the most vulnerable.

"And God, we give you thanks for your child, Barack, as he assumes the office of President of the United States.

"Give him wisdom beyond his years, inspire him with President Lincoln’s reconciling leadership style, President Kennedy’s ability to enlist our best efforts, and Dr. King’s dream of a nation for all people.

"Give him a quiet heart, for our ship of state needs a steady, calm captain.

"Give him stirring words; we will need to be inspired and motivated to make the personal and common sacrifices necessary to facing the challenges ahead.

"Make him color-blind, reminding him of his own words that under his leadership, there will be neither red nor blue states, but the United States.

"Help him remember his own oppression as a minority, drawing on that experience of discrimination, that he might seek to change the lives of those who are still its victims.

"Give him strength to find family time and privacy, and help him remember that even though he is president, a father only gets one shot at his daughters’ childhoods.

"And please, God, keep him safe. We know we ask too much of our presidents, and we’re asking far too much of this one. We implore you, O good and great God, to keep him safe. Hold him in the palm of your hand, that he might do the work we have called him to do, that he might find joy in this impossible calling, and that in the end, he might lead us as a nation to a place of integrity, prosperity, and peace. Amen."

It is true, of course, that prayers need not be televised or amplified to reach the One to whom they are addressed. But I believe this particular prayer is worth reading, pondering and taking to heart. God save us from complacency!

What if you were asked to pray publicly for our incoming president? What would you say to God in earshot of a nation?

Mirth or madness

2009-01-05T00:04:00.004-05:00

"Going deep sounds like an important thing to do," a friend told me after reading yesterday's post. "But it also sounds boring. Is it possible to take the spiritual life seriously without being so ... well ... serious?"

I laughed, as she knew I would. We've been friends long enough to have poked fun at most everything, from politicians to disasters to our families to death itself. But it's not the cynical sort of humor that sneers at the thought that anything has value. Instead, it is the kind of joke that helps us to take human fallibility lightly (especially our own).

Or as the always quotable G.K. Chesterton put it:

“Life is serious all the time, but living cannot be. You may have all the solemnity you wish in your neckties, but in anything important (such as sex, death, and religion), you must have mirth or you will have madness.”

Tread water or dive deep in '09?

2009-01-04T16:32:00.004-05:00

Every Sunday at my church, we confess "things done and left undone." I've left this blog undone for far too long, more out of lack of time than lack of interest.

But one of the gifts of a new year is the motivation to reset priorities -- to make a conscious decision about what duties or passions we'll give the best of ourselves to in the coming months.

It's so easy to slip into the habit of treading water rather than diving deep. To flail about, fighting every wave, complaining that the sea ought to be still and calm. Life rarely is.

Over the years I've found, as perhaps you have as well, that when I give spiritual matters a higher priority in my life -- when, as Thomas R. Kelly wrote, I "live from the Center" -- it makes all the difference. For me, that higher priority will include an intentional increase in prayer, reading and writing, including this blog.

How do you intend to live differently in 2009?

Sure footing in slippery times

2008-09-18T11:09:00.007-04:00

Stocks in a tailspin every other day. Jobs in jeopardy. Home values slipping.

Fear.

You can hear it in anxious conversations at the next table in the restaurant or around the coffee pot at work. It's not a hurricane of panic, just a rising tide of worry that relentlessly erodes our sense of security.

How can we stand? Where is the rock that provides stability in uncertain days? The Federal Reserve? A fat 401(k)? Family? Friends? Fate? Our own heroic efforts?

Those of us who walk the spiritual path are likely to respond that God is our foundation, our footing in slippery times. It's a matter of trust: We trust God to bring us through life's challenges. It's not that we expect to escape storms; we just rely on the promise that we don't navigate through them alone.

We trust. Or we try to, anyway. It's usually not long before we lose faith or patience and try to take matters into our own hands again ... with predictable results.

Much of our desperate grasping for security is an attempt to gain or maintain control over our circumstances. Ironically, giving up our illusion of control is the only real way to achieve peace in the chaos. It allows us appreciate the joys and opportunities of present circumstances, rather than living in fear of what lies ahead.

How do you cope with anxious times? What part does spirituality play?

Black holes and the gift of mortality

2008-09-10T16:50:00.008-04:00

Have you heard the latest end-of-the-world scenario?

No, not another "Left Behind" book.

Think something more along the lines of Dr. Frankenstein's monster.

The world's most powerful atom smasher went into operation Wednesday, despite the fears of a few scientists that, when fully operational, it might create tiny black holes that could suck the entire planet into nonexistence.

Other scientists, including of course the more than 8,000 physicists across the globe who collaborated on the project, tell us to ignore the Chicken Littles. They appear to have science on their side, based on this article.

Still, it's hard to ignore doomsday predictions, however farfetched. So yesterday, when I became annoyed over a little matter, the Possibility of Imminent Planetary Annihilation crossed my mind. Then the microscopic black hole of "does this really matter if everything is about to go poof?" immediately sucked up the little matter, squeezing it into no matter.

Seeing the end -- even just a potential end -- tends to change your perspective.

And that, I think, is the gift of mortality. We know, if we dare to admit it, that our lives are short. They could end a week from now. Or tomorrow. Or today. If we keep this uncomfortable fact in mind, surely we are more likely to treat others lovingly, to forgive slights, to make the most of our time, to explore the big questions of meaning instead of sweating the small stuff.

The question remains the same whether the Large Hadron Collider destroys Earth in a few weeks or the planet gets a million-year reprieve: What will each of us do with the time we have left?

"The Devil ... no, my genes made me do it"

2008-09-03T10:46:00.006-04:00

According to Study finds fidelity is in the genes, new scientific research shows that two of every five men lack the genetic aptitude for monogamy: "In other words, if a man's culture, religion and family background each have a seat at the conference table that determines his attitudes toward marital fidelity and monogamy, his genes might well sit at the head of the table."

I'm reminded of St. Paul's admonition to live according to the Spirit rather than according to the flesh - although he had something other than gene variants in mind.

Does the study undermine the notion of moral choice? No, because inclination can't invalidate a promise. If someone vows to "forsake all others," then keeping that vow is the moral choice. The choice to remain faithful might be easier for some than others, but that doesn't make it morally optional.

Our genes -- like the culture and family we are born into -- are the building blocks of our life. What structure we build with those blocks depends on the choices we make.

So what do you think? Has "The Devil made me do it" been updated into "My genes made me do it"? Is biology destiny? How do you determine what is moral conduct?

Politics and faith entwined

2008-08-20T20:30:00.003-04:00

At 7:43 on Aug. 20, jason k. responded: "While Church and State should be seperate, Politics and Faith should not, and cannot be seperate. ... To suggest someone check their faith at the door, when they step into the ballot box, is akin to telling them not to vote in accordance to their values."

He raises an excellent point. On an individual level, politics and faith cannot be separate in anyone who takes both seriously. Sincere faith shapes - or should shape - every perspective, every decision, every action. And choosing a president is not a minor decision.

I have no problem whatsoever with anyone voting based on his or her values. We don't leave that part of us behind when we enter the voting booth.

The problems arise when politics and faith become entwined on the institutional, not the personal, level. That's why the tax laws prohibit pastors from making political endorsements from the pulpit or using church resources to help a candidate. The government can't tell you what church to attend and the church can't tell you what party to elect.

That's as it should be.

In this nation, there are limits to political power. Those who hold it can't tell you what to believe - and they sure can't keep you from voting in accordance with those beliefs.

How will faith shape your decision?

Was church the right site for candidate forum?

2008-08-18T18:13:00.004-04:00

I watched Saturday's forum at Saddleback Church with interest -- not just to learn more about Barack Obama and John McCain, but also to see how the church's pastor, Rick Warren, handled the questioning.

He did well, I thought. His questions were probing and thoughtful, and I would have loved to hear the answers the men would have given had they been sitting around a campfire in a remote wilderness, not campaigning on national television.

That's the only change in locale I would have wanted, and then only if I could have been privy to honest, open conversation. But I've heard a bit of grumbling here and there that holding the forum at Saddleback was an unseemly mix of church and state -- and some in the pew fear the taint of politics as much as some secularists shun the sacred.

It seems to me, though, that the civic participation of houses of worship can remind the candidates (and voters) of the importance of values, meaning and character when choosing our president.

What do you think? What role should any religious institution play in a presidential campaign? What should be the limits to its participation?

Church of the joyful failures

2008-08-13T20:40:00.003-04:00

In a comment on the most recent post, the reader who calls himself The Heretic praises the idea of a "celebration of our imperfection." What a wonderful phrase!

It reminds me of a dream I had a good many years ago.

In the dream, I sat in an unfamiliar church where a handbell choir was about to play. Handbell choirs can make lovely music, of course, but I'm not a big fan of them in general. The playing must be precise; there's no room for improvisation, no way to bend rhythm or tone to express feeling. It seems stiff and unyielding.

The white-gloved ringers raised their bells and began to play. But before long, one player made an obvious mistake. That threw another ringer off. Then another. Then another. The errors multiplied until it was obvious that no one, not even the director, knew how to find the way back to the printed music.

And here's what astounded me: No one looked embarrassed or ashamed. No one seemed angry or upset. Instead, they smiled and laughed and threw themselves into the unplanned, unwritten, unimagined tunes that came out of their bells. The congregation nodded approvingly.

Instead of sinking into chaos, the music rose into celebration. A celebration of imperfection.

"What is this church?" I wondered. "What is this place that can take something that goes all wrong and transform it into something fresh and alive and so very right?"

I pulled out a hymn book from the back of the pew. The name of the church was engraved on its cover: Church of the Joyful Failures.

Too bad that church is so hard to find.

Gymnast falls but respect rises

2008-08-13T11:18:00.005-04:00

I wrote last time about falling, and how our response shows our character. I couldn't help but think of that while watching the U.S. women's gymnastics team compete last night.

Alicia Sacramone (right) lost her balance and fell off the beam at the very start of her program, dimming the team's hopes for gold. She hopped up and finished her routine, but her face registered devastation.

Team members eventually smiled for the cameras and asserted that they were happy with their silver medal. But I suspect that darker thoughts were going through Alicia's head: I failed. I fell. People watching around the world will remember me only for that awkward tumble, not for the years of hard work, the success, the moments of perfection.

But that was not what I will remember. After seeing so many strong, graceful routines, I started taking perfection for granted, nitpicking tiny wobbles and forgetting that these young women are doing almost super-human things. Alicia's fall didn't lower my admiration of her; it made me even more aware of what she had accomplished, more in awe of her dedication. She makes it look easy. It isn't. It never was.

And maybe the next time I lose my balance, I'll stop to think: Don't assume you know how it will look to others. Remember Alicia. Rise again. And again. And again.

Rising every time we fall

2008-08-03T18:37:00.005-04:00

"The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." - Nelson Mandela

Sometimes I think the secret to a good and fulfilling life is simply that: rising every time you fall.

It's as true for the entrepreneur pursuing profit as it is for the alcoholic trying to stay sober. As true for the surgeon making life-and-death decisions as it is for the child learning to ride a bike. We all fall - we all fail - sooner or later. It's what we do afterward that shows our character.

Most people who seriously attempt to follow the spiritual path take on one or more disciplines: structured prayer time, charitable giving, meditation, retreats, self-examination, study of scripture, fasting, worship. Sticking with a discipline adds depth and substance to your spirituality.

But often our good intentions go the way of New Year's resolutions, and what the hymn writer called the "sweet hour of prayer" becomes 10 seconds of "Now I lay me down to sleep."

What then?

Sometimes a particular discipline needs to be set aside for a time, either because it has become unrelentingly dull and meaningless or because you're making it into an idol, a substitute for God. But more often you simply need to rise, shake off the dust and take it up again.

When I do this, I invariably find it to be a happy homecoming, not a dreary duty.

Snipers in the sanctuary

2008-07-29T23:06:00.003-04:00

In Tennessee, a man reportedly enraged by the liberal views of a Unitarian Universalist church pulls out a shotgun during a children's performance of "Annie" and opens fire.

I assume we can all agree that this is not the proper way to protest church policy.

But while few disgruntled critics resort to gunfire (thank God), sniping is one of the most popular sports in any house of worship. Don't believe me? Ask the clergy. Nothing is too small or too sacred to avoid derision by those who confuse their opinions with God's.

The result, too often, is a church torn by dissent whose leaders are paralyzed by constant criticism. This is not exactly a recipe for healthy growth.

Can believers disagree -- even on core issues -- but continue to worship together in loving fellowship? I think it's possible, though not easy.

It requires a willingness to honor the motivations and intent of those with whom you disagree, rather than demonizing them as the "enemy." It requires a willingness to admit the possibility, however slight, that you might be wrong. It requires a willingness to seek truth together rather than run away to the shelter of people who think exactly the way you do.

It requires a willingness both to tell the truth and to listen for the truth.

Perhaps that's not as instantly satisfying as firing off a few shots or a few ugly remarks, but it leaves a lot less blood on the floor.

Finding yourself outside the box

2008-07-27T13:24:00.004-04:00

When people think of the spiritual journey, they often think of it as a search for God ... which, of course, it is. But it is also a search to find yourself - the true self, the person created in God's image.

You might assume that if there's one thing you know, it's yourself. After all, you're the one who thinks your thoughts, feels your emotions, moves your hands and feet. How could you not know who you are?

But we pick up many cues about who we are from the boxes that other people put us in. To your employer, you are a skill set. To your teenager, you are an ATM. To your church, you are a pledge unit. Now, we always hope that we are also seen as more than the box: That the employer understands your need for meaningful work and a humane working environment. That the teenager enjoys spending time with you. That the church sees your worth as a child of God, not just as a potential committee member with a fat wallet.

You are more likely to see yourself outside their boxes if you have experienced unconditional love - from parent or spouse or friend or the Sacred Presence. Because that's what unconditional love does: It tears down the boxes and frees you to be yourself.

That came to mind when I read Pete's responses to the previous post (thanks to all for the civil discussion!). Pete wrote that shaming children and labeling them sinners is a poor way to instill good behavior. I agree. How much better it is to point out that a specific behavior harms the child or others and to say, "You are better than that. This action betrays who you really are."

Children need guidance and instruction, certainly! But we can give them the freedom to be good not out of fear but because it is the way of love - a love they experience as life-giving.

Thoughts?

Are we born cruel or kind?

2008-07-25T18:56:00.006-04:00

Well, I see that the conversation has deteriorated into name-calling, as usual. You know how much I dislike that. Not that my preference has ever stopped the mud slinging for long.

Reading the latest brawl brings to mind the age-old debate over whether human beings are essentially good or essentially evil. Are we born savages who must be taught (and taught and taught) civil behavior?

Or is it our intrinsic nature to be loving? Is it the broken world we are born into that teaches us self-aggrandizement? Is it fear and a need for control that leads us to despise those who believe differently?

The basic question is this: Are we born cruel or kind? Weigh in with your opinion -- gently, I hope.

Who's hurt most by moral failure?

2008-07-14T15:06:00.003-04:00

We've talked before in this blog about how some believers insist on concrete answers about matters of faith while others have a greater comfort with leaving some questions up in the air. Naturally, that first group tends to think of moral rules as black and white. The others are more likely to see shades of gray.

But could these differences be based less on upbringing, theological preference or personality traits and more on what these groups stand to lose?

In a mostly political column in The Dallas Morning News, Rod Dreher makes this interesting observation in passing: "The poor and working class tend to prefer non-squishy religion prescribing a stark moral code — even if they struggle to live up to its demands. It's not hard to see why. Unlike ... social elites, folks living nearer the economic margins have far more to lose from individual and communal moral failure."

Is it true that moral failure hurts the lower classes more than it does those with wealth?

The individual moral failure of a man who abandons the children he fathered hurts those children and their mother, whatever their circumstances. The loss of his guidance and love will be felt by rich and poor alike. But the loss of monetary support can be devastating to a family living on the edge.

The communal moral failure of a nation that, for example, condones a corrupt judiciary will fall more heavily on those who are unable to pay bribes or pull strings.

But does that really account for the appeal of "non-squishy" religion? What do you think?

What beats unplugged relaxing? Recharging

2008-07-06T16:17:00.006-04:00

I wrote last time about unplugging from daily life -- taking time away to breathe. A more difficult task is staying spiritually connected even in the midst of our busy lives.

Perhaps "unplug" was the wrong word to use, because the more I think about it, the more I think the key to surviving when life becomes hectic is to stay plugged in -- plugged in, that is, to the source of our spiritual energy.

Most of this weekend I was exhausted from a tough week of long workdays. The solution, I thought, was rest. So there I was plopped in front of the television, catching up on recorded episodes of Doctor Who. Or reading a book. Or doing a crossword puzzle. Or surfing the Internet.

But no matter how hard I tried to entertain myself, I didn't feel refreshed. Just because I wasn't working didn't mean I was resting. It was just a different way to use up my depleted energy. I was unplugged, all right, but still whirring along.

What I needed was to recharge, not just relax. And that requires more than physical stillness. It requires an inner stillness, a receptivity, a recognition that I do not need to be distracted from the goodness of life in this moment.

This is something I learn over and over again, which shows what a slow learner I really am. I forget what truly nourishes me. And as often happens when I realize -- again -- that I need to plug in more than to unplug, I looked up Edward Carpenter's poem "The Lake of Beauty":

Let your mind be quiet, realising the beauty of the world,
and the immense, the boundless treasures that it holds in store.
All that you have within you, all that your heart desires,
all that your Nature so specially fits you for -- that or the
counterpart of it of it waits embedded in the great Whole, for you.
It will surely come to you.

Yet equally surely not one moment before its appointed time
will it come. All your crying and fever and reaching out of
hands will make no difference.
Therefore do not begin that game at all.
Do not recklessly spill the waters of your mind
in this direction and in that,
lest you become like a spring lost and
dissipated in the desert.

But draw them together into a little compass, and hold them
still, so still;
And let them become clear, so clear -- so limpid, so mirror-like;
at last the mountains and sky shall glass themselves in
peaceful beauty,
and the antelope shall descend to drink and to gaze at her
reflected image, and the lion to quench his thirst,
and Love himself shall come and bend over and catch his
own likeness in you.

So as we all return to work after the holiday weekend, my wish for you and for me is still waters and true refreshment.

Taking time to breathe

2008-06-30T16:27:00.003-04:00

Sorry about the lack of posts here lately. For a couple of weeks it was because of work demands, including wrestling with a new computer system (it's the sort of struggle that tends to make you more prayerful -- or at least more likely to invoke the name of the Almighty).

But for the last two weeks, I have been seeking some Sacred Space of my own, on the coasts of Maine and Nova Scotia, Canada. My son traveled with me. The computer stayed home.

After my mouse-deprived fingers stopped twitching, I knew it was right to take this time away, to abandon productivity for the sake of wholeness. To hike trails instead of running in place. To laugh at the silly walk of a roadside moose rather than brooding about newsroom layoffs and national politics and the unholy squabbles over religion.

What a novel idea: Taking time to breathe. To be rather than to do.

But it's not novel at all, of course. We have lost the concept of Sabbath time to our own detriment.

Do you take time to unplug from your busy life? How does that affect you spiritually?

Indiana Jones and the midlife quest

2008-06-05T10:57:00.006-04:00

I recently caught the new Indiana Jones movie. It was on the whole what I expected: mindless fun with enjoyable characters. One line of dialogue, though, broke through the escapism, perhaps because it hit uncomfortably close to home for someone of my age.

The university dean tells a graying Indy, "We seem to have reached the age where life stops giving us things and starts taking them away."

That's how it seems sometimes as age begins to claim our agility, our memory, our energy and, most painfully, our family and friends. The sense of loss can be overwhelming.

I think often of how difficult it must be for my parents, both in their 80s, who have buried their parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and many of their close friends. Much that has anchored their lives is slipping away.

So part of the spiritual journey of middle-age and older involves letting go -- not only letting go gracefully of the things and people we lose, but letting go of fear of further loss. It starts with gratitude for what remains in our lives, and matures into gratitude even for the empty spaces that once were filled.

Most of all, it requires trust that even if all is taken from us, life endures and God is good. Then we can live richly, whatever our circumstances.

Later in the film, Professor Oxley says, "How much of human life is lost in waiting?"

Or in fear? Or in clinging?

It's impossible to accept the gifts of one season or one age if you are desperately trying to reclaim the one that has passed.

How has aging affected your spirituality? Comments welcome.

Church in the rearview mirror

2008-06-02T16:29:00.004-04:00

The news that Barack Obama has resigned from membership in his church, Trinity United Church of Christ, is hardly surprising. Video clips from sermons by his former pastor, the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, and a Catholic priest who spoke there, the Rev. Michael Pfleger, offended voters and raised questions about Obama's association with the Chicago church he attended for two decades.

The candidate says he's doing it not just for his own political benefit but to spare the church endless attention from the media. Although as Frances Coleman points out in the Mobile, Ala., Press-Register, "... smart pastors and politicians will preach every sermon and make every political observation as though the whole world is watching. It pretty much is, from here on out. Thanks to camera phones, other electronic devices and the evolution of the Internet, someone is always poised to post video of embarrassing utterances on YouTube."

I've never left a church because of anything that would have gone viral on YouTube. In fact, usually it had nothing to do with the shortcomings of the church I left and everything to do with the qualities of the church I found: Outreach that is sacrificial and benefits the "other." Worship that's fresh and lively. Teaching that enlightens and challenges. Community that is loving and inclusive.

What would make you leave your current community of faith? Why do you stay?

Does science make faith obsolete?

2008-05-29T15:51:00.005-04:00

Yes, if by ...
No, and yes.
Absolutely not!
Not necessarily.
Of course not.
No.
No, but it should.
No.
Yes.
No, not at all.
It depends.
Of course not.
No, but only if ...

Each of these is the title of an essay in a booklet published by the John Templeton Foundation. Thirteen contributors from the realms of science, theology, academia and journalism answered the question "Does science make belief in God obsolete?"

Perhaps you can guess what atheist Christopher Hitchens or the lead editor of the Catholic Church's catechism would say (although you might be wrong). But what about William D. Phillips, a Nobel laureate in physics? Or Michael Shermer, publisher of Skeptic magazine? Or Jerome Groopman, a professor of medicine at Harvard? Or philosopher Mary Midgley?

You can read their thought-provoking essays and/or order a copy of the booklet at the foundation's Web site, which also offers debates between the contributors. You can leave your own comments, there as well as here.

I was particularly struck by this excerpt from the piece by Keith Ward, a Fellow of the British Academy, an Anglican priest and the author of "Pascal's Fire: Scientific Faith and Religious Understanding":

"Some modern physicists routinely speak of realities beyond space-time (e.g., quantum fluctuations in a vacuum from which this space-time originates). And some physicists, such as Henry Stapp, Eugene Wigner, and John von Neumann, speak of consciousness as an ultimate and irreducible element of reality, the basis of the physical as we know it, not its unanticipated by-product. ...

"It is not science that renders belief in God obsolete. It is a strictly materialistic interpretation of the world that renders belief in God obsolete, and which science is taken by some people to support. But science is more ambiguous than that, and modern scientific belief in the intelligibility and mathematical beauty of nature, and in the ultimately 'veiled' nature of objective reality, can reasonably be taken as suggesting of an underlying cosmic intelligence. To that extent, science may make a certain sort of belief in God highly plausible."

Thoughts?

The gospel according to ... lolcats?

2008-05-27T20:09:00.012-04:00

And now for something completely different. Trust me. Completely. Different.

Many arguments over religion come down to debates over scripture. What does that passage really mean? Was it accurately translated? Does the translation remain understandable? The English of the King James Version is not the same as today's English. Just ask any child who was wary of Jesus' request to "Suffer the little children to come unto me" -- which has nothing to do with suffering, since the clear meaning a few hundred years ago was "Let the little children come to me."

Translations have proliferated over the past few decades, some more literal or more poetic or more narrowly targeted than others. But I recently came across one unlike any other: It is written in the pidgin English of the lolcats.

If you are familiar with lolcats, you are probably either laughing or appalled. Or both. "Lol," of course, is netspeak for "laughing out loud." Lolcats are photos of cute cats with captions written in total disregard of proper spelling, grammar and word use. (Personally, I feel sure that cats would be much more precise with language, but the perpetrators of lolcats didn't ask me.) You can find the motherlode of them here.

So in July 2007, some people with far too much time on their hands decided that what the world really needs is ... What? An end to poverty? Global peace? A cell phone that doesn't drop calls? Alas, no. Their mission was to translate the entire Bible into lolspeak.

Here, for example, is the 23rd Psalm:

Ceiling Cat iz mai sheprd (which is funni if u knowz teh joek about herdin catz LOL.) He givz me evrithin I need.
He letz me sleeps in teh sunni spot an haz liek nice waterz r ovar thar.
He makez mai soul happi an maeks sure I go teh riet wai for him. Liek thru teh cat flap insted of out teh opin windo LOL.
I iz in teh valli of dogz, fearin no pooch, bcz Ceiling Cat iz besied me rubbin' mah ears, an it maek me so kumfy.
He letz me sit at teh taebl evn when peepl who duzint liek me iz watchn. He givz me a flea baff an so much gooshy fud it runz out of mai bowl LOL.
Niec things an luck wil chase me evrydai an I wil liv in teh Ceiling Cats houz forevr.

I guess that there might be more than one purpose to the lolcats Bible. General silliness. Cynical mockery. Theological exploration. Desire to see professional editors and English teachers twitch.

Whatever the purpose, I welcome this odd addition to Holy Writ. Even the strangest translations can make a passage fresh, and I doubt that I will easily forget the image of God rubbing the beloved cat's ears as it walks through the valley of dogs, fearing no pooch.

Comments in standard English welcome.

Faith-based hatred, Christian-style

2008-05-23T10:09:00.006-04:00

There are days when reading the incoming e-mail leaves me wishing for a delete button on my memory, not just the computer. It's not just the offers to enhance body parts; I'm talking about faith-based hatred. Far too much of this garbage claims God's approval for distorted views and even violence.

Muslim jihadists don't corner the market on this, by the way. The latest turd to land in my inbox comes from an alleged Christian who attempts to explain why Jews have suffered persecution throughout history. It's their fault, he says, certainly not our prejudice. I won't spread the manure by quoting it here, but you can be assured that he dredges up every stereotype, false accusation and ignorant anti-Semitic remark he could find.

Then there was the threatening letter that was sent from an organization with "Christians" in its name to a local activist for Palestinian rights (I refuse to name the organization not because I want to protect it but because I don't want to feed it with publicity). The long letter read in part: "... our Ecclesiastical Court has issued an edict inscribing you as a SLANDERER OF ZION and a TERRORIST COLLABORATOR. This means that our 55,000 world-wide disciples are hereby empowered to facilitate your removal from your residence and from the community of peace activists." "Facilitate your removal"? For criticizing Israeli policy?

Add into the mix news stories about the Rev. Rod Parsley's call for the destruction of Islam and the Rev. John Hagee's suggestion that Hitler's Holocaust did the world a favor by driving the Jews to Israel (a necessity for his favorite End Times scenario), and ... well, I'm ashamed that we share the name "Christian."

I hear a lot of complaints that moderate Muslims don't speak out against the extremists -- even though many do speak out, but are ignored. So what should you do when you see your own faith twisted into hate?

'Sin tax' misses the biggies

2008-05-19T16:13:00.004-04:00

Gov. Easley is calling for an increase in the "sin tax" -- the common term for taxes levied on items viewed as personal vices.

When I first ran across that term, I wasn't sure what it meant but was very curious about how it would be enforced. Surely sins were committed not just in our deeds but in our thoughts, in our attitudes toward others, in our insistence on personal comfort rather than the common good.

How can you tax hatred or greed or jealousy or laziness? Wouldn't you need to tax good actions left undone as well as the evil actions we take? And who gets to decide what a sin is, anyway?

It was almost a letdown to find out that a "sin tax" was nothing more than a few pennies added to the cost of a pack of cigarettes or bottle of booze. What a cheapening of the word "sin"!

These days, the common view of sin is remarkably physical in nature: It is whatever offends our sense of propriety or damages our health. So we focus on personal vices like smoking and drinking, or on variations from the sexual norm. There's much less attention paid to the ways in which we, individually and collectively, degrade other people, destroy the earth and turn away from the suffering of others.

But it's easy to collect a tax at the grocery store check-out line. It's impossible to levy a tax every time you change the channel because you can't stand to see another report about the thousands who died in China or Myanmar. But which do you really think pains God more, your neighbor's beer or your callousness?

This is your brain on God ...

2008-05-15T09:44:00.000-04:00

Is research into how the brain works changing the debate over God? Will it affect the long-running tug-of-(holy)-war between materialism and a worldview that includes the sacred?

That's the subject of an intriguing piece this week from New York Times columnist David Brooks: The Neural Buddhists.

Brooks writes that the new wave of neurological research "will not seep into the public realm in the form of militant atheism. Instead it will lead to what you might call neural Buddhism." The research points to common moral instincts in all religions and a built-in ability for the mind "to transcend itself and merge with a larger presence that feels more real."

"In unexpected ways," he writes, "science and mysticism are joining hands and reinforcing each other. That’s bound to lead to new movements that emphasize self-transcendence but put little stock in divine law or revelation. Orthodox believers are going to have to defend particular doctrines and particular biblical teachings. They’re going to have to defend the idea of a personal God, and explain why specific theologies are true guides for behavior day to day."

Is the debate shifting from (Round 1) belief in God vs. atheism to (Round 2) belief in transcendence vs. belief in God as revealed in a specific religion?

If the comments in this blog are any indicator, there's plenty of fighting left to do in both rounds.

Do you agree with Brooks' analysis? What do you think the changing debate will mean for the future of faith in America?

Evangelicals on politics and faith

2008-05-09T20:56:00.009-04:00

On Wednesday, a group of leading Evangelical Christians released a 20-page paper they call The Evangelical Manifesto. It is a remarkable document -- an impassioned defense of Evangelicalism as well as a call to reform it. It's the most honest self-examination I've ever seen come from a religious group, most likely because it's not an official denominational pronouncement.

Here's a summary, and here is the complete text.

First, the manifesto describes what Evangelicals are: followers of Jesus who define their faith and life according to the Gospel. It stakes out a middle ground between liberal revisionists (who run the risk of being "Christians who betray Jesus with an interpretation") and fundamentalists (who tend to react to the modern world in ways "that are personally and publicly militant to the point where they are sub-Christian").

Then it pulls no punches in outlining where Evangelicals have gone astray -- for example, by becoming "cheerleaders for those in power and the naïve sycophants of the powerful and the rich."

While decrying faith that is entirely private and personal ("hot tub spirituality"), the manifesto also warns against politicizing Christianity:

"That way faith loses its independence, the church becomes 'the regime at prayer,' Christians become 'useful idiots' for one political party or another, and the Christian faith becomes an ideology in its purest form. Christian beliefs are used as weapons for political interests.

"Christians from both sides of the political spectrum, left as well as right, have made the mistake of politicizing faith; and it would be no improvement to respond to a weakening of the religious right with a rejuvenation of the religious left. Whichever side it comes from, a politicized faith is faithless, foolish, and disastrous for the church – and disastrous first and foremost for Christian reasons rather than constitutional reasons. Called to an allegiance higher than party, ideology, and nationality, we Evangelicals see it our duty to engage with politics, but our equal duty never to be completely equated with any party, partisan ideology, economic system, or nationality."

There is much more to the document, but this was the part that struck me as particularly worthy of conversation in this blog. What do you think is the role of faith in politics? Is a politicized faith always "faithless, foolish, and disastrous"?

---

Edit to add, by request, a link to the list of those who signed the manifesto.

Does faith affect your vote?

2008-05-05T18:23:00.004-04:00

It's been an exciting election season here in North Carolina, especially in the Democratic presidential primary. I can't recall us ever before getting this much attention from the national candidates. Now it's our turn. Choose wisely!

When you vote -- which I trust you will -- how will spirituality or religion factor into your choice?

In part, that's a question about whether and how you evaluate the candidates' stated beliefs or associations. But I'd also like to know how your own beliefs affect your choice. Do you feel guided by God in the voting booth? Do you look for a candidate who shares your values? How has that played out in this election?

The Devil, you say!

2008-05-02T10:59:00.004-04:00

An e-mail correspondent who wishes to be identified as Seeker raises an interesting question:

"What do you or your readers make of Jesus' references to 'the ruler of the world' - Satan as mentioned in John 14:30 and other places? These references leave me with the feeling that Jesus is in fear of Satan even though he states 'he has no power over me.' I hear about avoiding sin during Sunday homilies, but I hear little about avoiding Satan, as if he doesn't exist or no one seems to have a good grasp on who/what he is."

Jesus said his kingdom is not of this world, so saying that Satan rules this world yet "has no power over me" is like me saying that Raul Castro rules Cuba yet has no power over me.

As you say, this gets into the whole issue of who or what Satan is. I've held different views on this over the years, but now I essentially believe that Satan is a psychologically useful personification of the evil within us that pulls us away from God. Why useful? Because it's easier to resist something that is seen as an outside force than to wrestle with the darkness within yourself -- or even to admit that it exists.

The problem with externalizing this evil, though, is that it makes it all too easy to see it only in other people rather than wrestling with it in your own heart.

Evil is real. It is destructive. It is the opposite of love. It separates us from God and one another. How you picture it (personally, I love C.S. Lewis' depiction of Satanic plotting in "The Screwtape Letters") is far less important than whether you resist it.

Bring your best to interfaith pot-luck

2008-04-30T11:37:00.004-04:00

I'm a big proponent of talking across our religious fences, even when the discussion is difficult. It's like a community pot-luck supper; you might not like every dish, but everyone can appreciate the abundance and variety of food -- and of course the fellowship.

But there are two temptations at these interfaith pot-lucks, and I don't mean the dessert table.

The first is the temptation to get so caught up in arguing the rightness of your beliefs that you forget to listen. It's like insisting that everyone get a big scoop of your casserole but refusing to sample any other dishes. When we single-mindedly push our own view, we miss the insights of others. And we can't begin to heal the wounds between faiths unless we're willing to hear about the pain that we've inflicted.

The other temptation is to bring nothing to the table at all. To be so afraid of offending anyone that we speak in generalities and hide what is best in our own tradition.

That's what came to mind when reading this excerpt from J. Philip Newell's newest book, "Christ of the Celts: The Healing of Creation":

"A number of years ago, as the little spirituality centre of Casa del Sol in New Mexico was being conceived, I spoke with a native leader about the types of conversations we might have in a community of listening and dialogue. I asked, 'What is it I am to bring to the table of humanity? What am I to bring to our relationship in this place?' He answered very simply, and very challengingly: 'Philip, bring your treasure, bring Christ.' He then said, 'Would you expect me, as a native leader, to bring something less than my greatest treasure? Would you be satisfied with something less? So I tell you, bring your treasure. Bring Christ.'

"I understand why those of us of liberal sensitivity in the Christian household have hesitated from bringing Christ to the table. In the past, he has been used to beat others over the head and to tell them they need to become 'like us.' So I understand the hesitation. I know why many of us have simply gone silent. But if we are to establish true relationships in the journey of the world today, as distinct cultures and religions and nations, we need to find ways of bringing our treasure to one another.

"... this is my desire, to bring the treasure of our Christian household to the yearnings of the world today. And I am seeing that we can do it in new ways, in ways that listen reverently to the hunger of the human heart and in ways that will bring us closer to one another, as individuals and as distinct traditions, instead of into further separation and brokenness. This is a desire that issues up from deep in the soul. It is not a Christian desire or a Jewish or a Muslim desire. It is a holy human desire, and it will cost us much. But it is for the healing of creation."

What can you or your tradition bring to the table?

Buddy Christ to the rescue

2008-04-28T10:42:00.006-04:00

"Religion is very market driven," Anonymous wrote at 5 p.m., April 25. He or she offered the thought that even monotheistic religions adopt different gods over time, or at least modify their views of God.

"Jesus is almost portrayed as a big brother 'buddy' nowadays."

I couldn't help thinking of the movie "Dogma," which is hilarious and thoughtful if you can stand to wade through the constant profanity and juvenile sex jokes (it more than earns its R rating; even edited for TV, which is how I first saw it, it's pretty raw). In one scene, a cardinal played by George Carlin announces that the Church sees the need to update its archaic image and so has decided to replace the "wholly depressing" image of the crucifix with a "new, more inspiring" image: the "Buddy Christ." The statue unveiled shows a grinning, winking Jesus giving an approving thumb up.

What makes this scene is so funny -- apart from the ridiculous, smarmy statue itself -- is the idea that a religion desperate to attract followers would dump the central symbol of its message in order to make it more "user-friendly."

And yet ... it is good and necessary for our images of God to grow and expand. If faith is to remain relevant, it must speak to the needs of the current generation -- while also connecting this generation to the wisdom and traditions of the past. A living faith isn't afraid to find new ways of describing God. A living faith isn't afraid to see God in new light.

Christianity doesn't have to kick Christ off the cross to also embrace a laughing, accessible, warm Jesus. Buddy Christ is silly satire, but he makes a point.

Are religions today watering down their messages to attract followers? Should they change with the times? If so, in what ways? What should never change? Let me know what you think. (And thanks for the thoughtful comments on the last post. I enjoyed reading all of them.)

One-way signs on the road to God

2008-04-25T09:34:00.005-04:00

If life is a highway and God is our destination, there are an awful lot of one-way signs along the road.

So is there only one true religion? I just came across a passage that addresses that contentious issue in "The Soul of Christianity: Restoring the Great Tradition" by Huston Smith. After pointing out that every religion claims superiority, he writes:

"...revelations are for the civilizations they create, and within each the truths revealed are absolute and can brook no rivals. There is no dissembling here: when a man says that his wife means the world to him, he is not claiming that she should mean the world to other men. Moreover, underlying the 'relative absolute' in his assertion, there is an absolute Absolute: he does believe that all men should feel for their wives the love that he feels for his wife. In our multicultural age Christians are coming to understand this point."

He then gives several examples throughout history of Christians maintaining the integrity of their own traditions while honoring other paths to God for other cultures, and concludes:

"These examples betoken a new mood in Christendom, a more conscious, general recognition that though for Christians God is defined by Jesus, he is not confined to Jesus."

That makes sense to me. It shows how you can be a passionate follower of one faith without assuming every other faith is nonsense.

What do you think?

Scrubbing stains and memories

2008-04-23T16:57:00.008-04:00

The stain in the carpet came back this week, stubbornly marking the spot where a man last touched his home. He fell, bleeding and unable to rise, and died in the hospital a few hours later. One year ago today.

I hated that stain when it was fresh; it reminded me daily of what I had lost. So I scrubbed that spot over and over with every product I could find, until finally it faded. For a while.

My sharp memories of that awful night -- and the long illness that led to it -- faded as well, though more slowly. There's no cleaning solution for the brain, so instead I looked often at pictures of him as he used to be, with wavy hair and full beard, before chemo left him bare as a newborn. The mind-scrubbing worked well enough that when I recently saw a photo taken during his illness, it startled me.

Now and then I run across pictures from that time, but I don't seek them out. I don't hang them on the wall. It's not that I want to forget; I just don't want to be trapped in the raw emotions of that night, any more than I wanted to preserve that stain.

I'll bet we all know people who have become so attached to their pain that it becomes their identity. They live in the past, nursing resentments and regrets. They loudly proclaim their misery, while clinging to it as if to a lifeline.

One of the great gifts of the spiritual journey is learning that although misfortune is inescapable, misery is optional. That you are more than the circumstances of your life. That there is a Source of light and healing. That when you live fully in the present moment, there are no regrets for what was or fears for what will be.

Just a stain to be scrubbed.

I can deal with that.

It's heavenly to cherish the earth

2008-04-22T15:03:00.003-04:00

The noisy, seemingly endless squabble between adherents of creationism and evolution can hide the fact that, on one issue at least, believers and scientists are growing closer. That issue: caring for our planet -- however it came into being.

Churches that previously emphasized mankind's dominion over the earth now speak of stewardship: The planet is not ours to ravage but ours to cherish and protect from harm.

Emagazine.com wrote in "Stewards of the Earth: The Growing Religious Mission to Protect the Environment" of the rise in faith-based environmental awareness: "When conservative evangelical Christians call for action on global warming, Hindu holy men dedicate themselves to saving sacred rivers and Buddhist monks work with Islamic mullahs to try to halt the extinction crisis, boundaries are clearly being redrawn in the ongoing struggle for the political hearts and minds of the world’s believers." The whole article is worth reading.

As I write this, on the afternoon of Earth Day, I'm distracted by the view from my window. The oak's spring greenery sways against a backdrop of heavy clouds. Geese honk as they fly in tandem toward the pond. Birds and toads join their voices in song. A hawk circles and swoops to earth.

It's art -- as fine a work of art as anything that has been displayed in a museum or performed on a stage. It's life -- the air we breathe, the food we grow, the water we drink. It's a gift from God -- one we can't afford to neglect. The wonder is that it took some theologians so long to figure that out.

Passover's celebration of freedom

2008-04-21T17:45:00.004-04:00

The Jewish celebration of Passover began at sundown on Saturday. The eight-day festival commemorates the exodus of the Hebrews from slavery in Egypt, so it is closely linked with the ideas of freedom and liberation.

Historian Claire Simmons wrote a powerful column for The Washington Post that relates Passover to the Jewish uprising in the Warsaw ghetto of the 1940s. It's a horrifying tale. Nazis had forced hundreds of thousands of Jews into a tiny, 1.3 square-mile section of the city. When German troops came to deport them to concentration camps after a few years of inhuman conditions, a few hundred fighters held them off -- for a while.

But the fighters weren't the only ones who resisted courageously. "Public prayer was forbidden and punished by execution. Yet prayer services were held in hundreds of clandestine locations. Secret factories fabricated matzoh. Thousands of children affirmed their freedom to be human by studying the Torah in underground schools."

Simmons writes, "The actions of the men, women and children of the Warsaw ghetto teach us that Passover is not a passive celebration of historical events or superficially similar current events. ... We are not celebrating the freedom to be left alone. We celebrate the freedom to repair the world, to light a candle for posterity, to continue to perform the many small prosaic acts of solidarity and sacrifice -- for friend and stranger alike -- in the shadow of totalitarianism and under circumstances calculated to make us think these acts are meaningless."

During this Passover, I hope all of us will celebrate our freedom to worship and will work to ensure that all people, of every faith and in every nation, enjoy that same freedom.

Interfaith listening for truth

2008-04-18T18:20:00.004-04:00

Continuing his visit to the United States, Pope Benedict XVI met with representatives of other religions at the Pope John Paul II Cultural Center in Washington. In his remarks there, he praised dialogue between faiths, but not for the primary purpose of peace and mutual understanding. Instead, he said, the purpose must be "to discover the truth."

Rather than focusing on what we believe in common, he said, we should "discuss our differences with calmness and clarity."

I think he's right about the approach we should take, but I suspect that he and I have different ideas of what the outcome of such discussions should be.

Ecumenical discussions do no one any good if their only purpose is to blend differing religions into a bland mush. The point is not to grind down any particular faith's sharp edges so what's left is blunt and safe. So Benedict is right to call for discussions where differences are clearly visible and not ignored or hidden away.

He's right, as well, that anyone participating in such talks should "listen attentively to the voice of truth" so that "our dialogue will not stop at identifying a common set of values, but go on to probe their ultimate foundation."

But here's where we differ: I suspect he hopes that attentive listening will convince other-believers that truth is found in Catholicism. He is, after all, the leader of the Catholic Church.

My hope, though, is that those of us who speak clearly and openly of our faith -- of what we have in common as well what divides us -- will strive less to persuade others of our truth than to hear the voice of truth in one another.

Pain in the context of hope

2008-04-17T17:46:00.002-04:00

Reading through some of the remarks made by Pope Benedict XVI today, I was struck by this passage from his sermon at Washington Nationals Stadium:

"Americans have always been a people of hope: your ancestors came to this country with the expectation of finding new freedom and opportunity, while the vastness of the unexplored wilderness inspired in them the hope of being able to start completely anew, building a new nation on new foundations. To be sure, this promise was not experienced by all the inhabitants of this land; one thinks of the injustices endured by the Native American peoples and by those brought here forcibly from Africa as slaves. Yet hope, hope for the future, is very much a part of the American character. And the Christian virtue of hope – the hope poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, the hope which supernaturally purifies and corrects our aspirations by focusing them on the Lord and his saving plan – that hope has also marked, and continues to mark, the life of the Catholic community in this country.

"It is in the context of this hope born of God’s love and fidelity that I acknowledge the pain which the Church in America has experienced as a result of the sexual abuse of minors. No words of mine could describe the pain and harm inflicted by such abuse. It is important that those who have suffered be given loving pastoral attention. Nor can I adequately describe the damage that has occurred within the community of the Church. Great efforts have already been made to deal honestly and fairly with this tragic situation, and to ensure that children ... can grow up in a safe environment. ... Today I encourage each of you to do what you can to foster healing and reconciliation, and to assist those who have been hurt. Also, I ask you to love your priests, and to affirm them in the excellent work that they do. And above all, pray that the Holy Spirit will pour out his gifts upon the Church, the gifts that lead to conversion, forgiveness and growth in holiness."

Does it make a difference to acknowledge pain in the context of hope? I think it does. Pope Benedict points out this is a nation founded on and steeped in hope, even though some terrible wrongs were committed against slaves and Native Americans. The Catholic Church, too, is marked by hope, despite the scandal of abusive priests.

Both church and state are more likely to overcome their painful and pain-inducing shortcomings because of this grounding in and persistence of hope. Both can -- and must -- be reminded to live up to their own ideals.

Pope Benedict's honest acknowledgement of the abuse and his call to assist its victims were commendable. I only wish he had said something about the bishops who covered up the scandals and shipped pedophiles away to unsuspecting parishes. Their attempt to save the reputation of the Church at the expense of individual children was as unloving, ungodly and sinful as anything the oversexed priests did.

Pope Benedict's fashion statement

2008-04-16T10:28:00.011-04:00

The big religion news today, of course, is Pope Benedict XVI's trip to the United States. Plenty of coverage is available on charlotte.com and elsewhere.

One fascinating aspect of this papal visit, however, is the attention that is being paid to what the pope will wear and what message that will send to the Catholic faithful.

Two of the best stories on the topic are "Do the Clothes Make the Pope -- Or the Church?" by Religion News Service columnist David Gibson and "Papal dress code" by Michael McGough in the Los Angeles Times.

It's easy to get lost in church-specific terminology like "fiddleback chausibles," and hard to understand the fuss over the height of the miter atop Benedict's head. But those who pay closer attention to liturgical garments than I do say that this pope's choices may signal disapproval of the Vatican II reforms and a return to more conservative traditions.

Are observers reading too much into the pope's choice of robes? Is Benedict's attire intended to make a statement or is it simply personal preference? If you think it does send a message, do you approve of it? (I'm particularly interested in hearing from Catholics on these questions.)

Images of God: Pieces of a puzzle

2008-04-15T10:51:00.004-04:00

Father. Shepherd. Judge. King.

All are common metaphors for God or Jesus that have been used in the Judeo-Christian scriptures. Perhaps you are less familiar with these, also taken from the Bible:

Mother. Eagle. Rock. Vine. Fire. Wind. Light. Door. Chicken. (Yes, chicken ... in Luke 13:34 Jesus says he wants to gather the children of Israel “as a hen gathers her brood under her wings”)

We describe the indescribable by comparing it to ordinary things.

It’s as if God is a giant jigsaw puzzle, so vast that we can’t see the edges, and each image of God, each metaphor, is just a little piece that maybe shows a bit of sky or the edge of a tree. Each image helps to fill in the picture, but no one piece is sufficient to show the whole. Expanding our array of images of God adds pieces to the puzzle.

God as father seems a perfect image for some people. But it can be a barrier for those who had abusive, critical or distant real-life fathers.

God as rock implies strength, solidity, something that can’t be shaken or blown away. If you feel the world is crumbling around you, there is great comfort in clinging to that rock. But you would not go to a rock for tenderness.

I have sometimes experienced God as ocean, moving in unceasing rhythm yet with hidden, still depths. As song, soaring in harmony. As electrical outlet, delivering power. As lover's embrace. As lightning's sudden illumination. As sunlight's warmth.

What images of God hold power for you? Have those images changed over time?

And since our atheist neighbors always wish to chime in on this blog, I ask that they consider this quote from theologian Gabriel Vahanian: "If anyone claims to be an atheist, I always ask, 'What God is it you don't believe in?' In other words, 'Are you a Roman Catholic atheist, a Baptist atheist, a Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod atheist, or what?' From there, I probe to discover what affirmation lies beneath the denial -- and almost invariably there is a profound theological truth and a deep faith at the heart of this self-described atheist. Because what was rejected was not God but an inadequate image of God – in effect, an idol."

God of The Gap?

2008-04-14T10:34:00.004-04:00

When comments on the last post wandered into discussion of "god of the gap," I confess that I had a mental image of an old guy with white beard and robes heading to the mall for an updated look. Jeans? Shorts? T-shirt? Perhaps he'd also check out the God of Old Navy look, or maybe God of Abercrombie & Fitch.

That wasn't, of course, what was intended. But hey, it's Monday morning.

Perhaps tomorrow I'll say a little about the visual images we attach to God, and how they can help or hinder our spiritual journey.

But for now, I'd just like to point out that there's a big difference between saying (1) anything we don't understand must be God, and (2) so much remains to be understood, that the existence of God can't be ruled out.

Scientists say that the vast majority of matter in the universe can't be seen. This "dark matter," as they call it, is known only by its effects on matter that we can observe. In the same way, we observe the unknowable divine only through the lives of those who have been transformed by their encounters with God.

Healing with the Divine Therapist

2008-04-11T19:11:00.012-04:00

A friend who has been wrestling with depression wrote to me, "Sometimes I think God doesn't want me to be happy."

Yep. He's right. God doesn't want him to be happy. That's not nearly good enough.

Happiness is fleeting, and relies too much on outer circumstances. Happiness is a pale flicker of light compared to the bonfire of joy God wants for us. God wants us to be so filled with this joy that nothing the world throws at us can keep us down. And building a closer relationship with God can make that possible.

Father Thomas Keating has written of prayer as an encounter with the Divine Therapist. In the depths of contemplative prayer, we experience the loving acceptance that heals our wounded emotions. (I should point out that Keating is not at all opposed to human psychotherapy as well, especially for those with serious emotional issues.)

On a much lighter note, beliefnet columnist Therese J. Borchard has written a delightful piece on "10 Reasons Why Catholicism is the Best Religion for the Mentally Ill." For example: "1. There is a saint for every neurosis. You have a neurosis? We've got a saint! St. Joseph takes care of those prone to panic attacks while traveling. For twitching, Bartholomew the Apostle is your dude. Those roaming the house in their sleep can call on Dymphna. The venerable Matt Talbot is patron saint to those struggling with alcoholism and drug addiction. And, of course, St. Jude covers the hopeless causes."

Sure, I've heard people say you have to be crazy to believe in God. Sometimes the behavior of believers makes that all too credible.

But there are also many who have found wholeness in the presence of holiness -- and sanity in being fools for God.

Saudi king calls for interfaith dialogue

2008-04-10T17:16:00.006-04:00

Would you be surprised to learn that the ruler of a nation that permits only one faith to be practiced has called for an interfaith dialogue between Muslims, Jews and Christians?

I certainly was. But that's apparently what King Abdullah bin Abdul Aziz of Saudi Arabia (right) has done. It's an unprecedented attempt to reach across religious boundaries.

Caryle Murphy, an American journalist living in Saudi Arabia, has written an interesting analysis of the development, "What's Behind the Saudi Monotheism Summit?" She quotes John L. Esposito, founding director of the Prince Alwaleed Bin Talal Center for Muslim-Christian Understanding at Georgetown University, as saying Abdullah’s proposal "is potentially an important and significant move forward in terms of the king sending a signal – not only to the world but also to the more rejectionist types who are theologically very narrow-minded – that we’re going to open up."

I firmly believe that opening up -- talking with the "other" -- is humanity's best hope for peace and mutual understanding ... if, that is, all sides are willing to listen as well as talk. It would be a lot easier to take Abdullah seriously if he'd loosen up religious restrictions in his own kingdom.

What do you think could be the benefits or pitfalls of King Abdullah's proposed summit?

A savior without hairspray

2008-04-09T10:53:00.006-04:00

The death of actor Charlton Heston brings to mind all those biblical epics I've watched over the years. Films like "The Ten Commandments" reimagined Scripture's stories and gave them visual freshness.

Any time a movie adapts a beloved book, it's likely to introduce changes that don't sit well with the book's devotees. (Faramir never took Frodo and Sam to Osgiliath in "Lord of the Rings." It's wrong, I tell you! Wrong!) But the ability to see the tales come to life redeems many flaws.

There was one aspect of the older biblical epics that drove me crazy, though.

Jesus used hairspray.

They never showed him with the aerosol can in hand, but it was obviously in use. The first-century Galilean never had a hair out of place.

What's with this messiah mousse? Was it just too human for Christ to have a bad hair day? And doesn't that muddy the whole point of the incarnation -- God becoming one of us?

It's a picky complaint, I know, but I was relieved when filmmakers started portraying Jesus as someone who might need a detangler after calming the storm.

How do you feel about movies based on Scripture? What do you think is done well, and what is done badly?

Abusing freedom of religion

2008-04-08T13:15:00.004-04:00

Any freedom has limits. Your right to swing your fist ends at my nose. Your right to free speech ends when you shout "Fire!" in a crowded theater.

And your right to religious freedom ends when you you force young teenage girls into marriage. An accusation of that led state troopers to raid the Yearning for Zion Ranch in rural Texas, removing hundreds of women and children.

A former member, Carolyn Jessup, author of "Escape," describes life within the polygamist sect as one of strict control and manipulation. Babies were "broken" by a practice similar to the water-boarding used to torture suspected terrorists. Girls reaching puberty were pushed into marriage with middle-aged men.

The group's true believers would no doubt argue that whatever they did was within God's will and should fall under the protection of freedom of religion. But the right to believe as you wish and to gather for common worship does not include the right to break the law. It does not include the right to hold members virtually captive. And it surely does not include the right to harm children.

Some will take this aberration to be proof that religion is inherently dangerous. But the worth of any human endeavor can't be judged by the worst example of how it has been twisted. We would all agree that families are good in theory and most of the time in practice, but some individuals use their families as punching bags. Some families model cruelty, not love. But that's not what families are for, and it's not the best that they can be.

Apparently this fundamentalist offshoot of the Mormon Church is not what any church should be. Neither was Jim Jones' People's Temple or David Koresh's Branch Dividians. But they are the tragic exceptions, not the norm.

Thoughts?

It's always open season on hypocrites

2008-04-07T17:37:00.005-04:00

Is there any more tempting target than a hypocrite? Anyone who preaches one thing but does another might as well wear a bright red bulls-eye -- and it's always open season.

The priest who professes celibacy but molests children. The televangelist who makes millions urging others to give their last dollar to "God's work." The businessman who never misses a worship service but also never misses a chance to backstab a competitor.

The gulf between what they say and what they do discredits their faith and chases seekers away in disgust. But does it invalidate the belief itself? I ask because I've so often heard people say that there's no point joining [fill in name of any particular faith community here] because "they're all hypocrites."

And most of us are, to a greater or lesser extent. Hypocrites R Us.

It's the nature of religion to insist on ideals and values that are hard to live up to. And it's the nature of human beings to slip into self-interest or laziness -- or worse, to warp the teachings of a faith to justify horrific acts. In even the most minor exercise of hypocrisy, we reflect badly on what we claim to value most. In the worst, we injure and scar the innocent, leading others to attribute evil deeds to God's influence.

G.K. Chesterton wrote, "The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and left untried." I suspect the same comment applies to other faiths as well.

But again, does the fact that so many fall short of the ideal make the ideal itself unworthy of pursuit?

5 reasons NOT to be religious

2008-04-04T11:00:00.003-04:00

Plenty of believers will tell you why you should be as pious as they are. Here's what is rarely said (but should be).

Don't be religious ...

1. If you think it will exempt you from troubles, pain and tragedy.

2. If you think it makes you better than other people.

3. If you think it means your brain can go on permanent vacation.

4. If you think it's all comfort and no demands.

5. If you think it's a way to get God to back your agenda, prejudices or sports team.

Care to add to the list?

M.L. King's theological journey

2008-04-03T15:19:00.005-04:00

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who was assassinated 40 years ago Friday, is remembered for many things: his soaring speeches that called America to live up its own ideals, his courageous leadership of the civil rights movement, his advocacy of nonviolence as a tactic against oppression.

What is sometimes forgotten is that he was a preacher first, and it was his views about the nature of God that led to his famous actions. It was the pulpit that propelled him to greatness.

How did those views form? I went looking for the answer and came across a fascinating article, "Martin Luther King, Jr., and the African-American Social Gospel," by Clayborn Carson. It details the evolution of King's views from an initial skepticism, even while enjoying the rituals and community of church, to an embrace of liberal theology, then a realization of that theology's limitations and a rediscovery of his own African American tradition. His religious views drew from both the intellectual approach of white academics and the emotional, personal religion of his roots.

What resulted was a powerful ability to speak truth to Americans of all races, and to speak that truth out of personal spiritual experience and conviction.

As the article relates:

Forging an eclectic synthesis from such diverse sources as personalism, theological liberalism, neo-orthodox theology, and the activist, Bible-centered religion of his heritage, King affirmed his abiding faith in a God who was both a comforting personal presence and a powerful spiritual force acting in history for righteousness. This faith would sustain him as the civil rights movement irreversibly transformed his life.

"I am many things to many people," King acknowledged in 1965, "but in the quiet recesses of my heart, I am fundamentally a clergyman, a Baptist preacher. This is my being and my heritage for I am also the son of a Baptist preacher, the grandson of a Baptist preacher and the great-grandson of a Baptist preacher." Rather than being torn between mutually exclusive cultural traditions, King's public, transracial ministry marked a convergence of theological scholarship and social gospel practice.

I have now yet another reason to admire King, who sought understanding of God, was willing to let that understanding grow, and was empowered by what he found to transform a nation.

How has your theology changed and grown? How has it affected your life's work?

Spring's glory an unexpected gift

2008-04-02T13:21:00.007-04:00

I remember April 1992 as the Spring of pure grace.

We had bought our new house in February, when trees and bushes were bare. Since my thumb is whatever is the polar opposite of green, I had taken no steps to improve the yard. It would stay as undecorated as my last yard, and the one before that.

But as the days lengthened and trees shook out new leaves, surprises popped out. First, shaggy bushes exploded in yellow glory. Forsythia! Then, one by one, other festive residents made their presence known. Buttercups. Tulips. Irises. Azaleas. Day lilies. Peonies. Roses. Every day I walked around the house in amazement, counting my colorful blessings.

Best of all was the huge lilac bush, whose fragrance attracted me as surely as it did the butterflies.

So much of how we find meaning in life relies on the efforts of those who came before us, who planted the insights that bloom into our own understanding. Their wisdom comes to us as unexpected grace. The quote that illuminates. The book that speaks directly to our situation. The Scripture passage that leaps off the page. The piece of music that expresses better than words what is in our heart.

Our job is to tend them and to plant our own bulbs for a future we may not see.

Religion misused as a political tool

2008-04-01T15:48:00.003-04:00

In a nation of so many believers, it's no surprise that talk of religion pops up in political campaigns. This year it's taken a particularly bizarre turn, with Barack Obama accused of being a secret Muslim while simultaneously berated for not leaving his (Christian) church. Go figure.

It's always tempting for candidates, like nations at war, to claim God's endorsement. It's also tempting for ministers to use their pulpit to push a particular political party or candidate. But both should be wary of mixing religion with politics -- for the sake of church, not just state.

The Rev. Dr. C. Welton Gaddy, a Baptist pastor and leader of The Interfaith Alliance, warned of the danger to religion in an interview on the PBS show Frontline: "Every time that religion has identified itself or entangled itself with a particular political movement or a particular government, religion has been harmed by that. I see religion as a powerful positive healing force for this nation and the world. But that force is blunted, weakened, compromised inestimably, if we turn religion into a tool for advancing political strategy; if we make it a matter of how to win political office; if we treat it as anything other than a sacred part of life from which we ought to draw sustenance and values and strength for living courageously as good citizens."

Of course religious values guide a believer's choices in the voting booth. But that doesn't justify slapping a bumper sticker on the Almighty.

Your comments welcome.

A child dies in the name of God

2008-03-31T13:59:00.002-04:00

At 5:04 on March 26, Iztok brought up a news story that would make anyone cringe: Police: Girl Dies After Parents Pray for Healing Instead of Seeking Medical Help . Especially disturbing to him was the police chief's statement that the girl's parents said she died because "apparently they didn't have enough faith." Iztok asks, "Was it lack of faith or too much of it?"

I'd call it a lack of common sense and a fatal misunderstanding of how God heals.

The best response to this story I've seen is from Detroit Free Press columnist Mitch Albom, Trusting God's Hand Should Not Idle Yours. The whole column is worth reading, but here's a sample:

"Now I know there are many of us who believe 'God has a plan.' And I hope and pray that's true.

"But I'm betting His plan doesn't include us sitting around doing nothing. We work, yet have faith. We have fun, yet have faith. We eat, yet have faith. If you can indulge in some form of 21st-Century activity, why not others?

"Faith is good. In my view, it's vital. But in this day and age, to refuse to see doctors is living in a time warp. And when a child's life is threatened, ignoring the modern world should not be an option."

Sounds right to me. What do you think?

Cleanliness vs. godliness

2008-03-25T12:04:00.004-04:00

Remember the old saw that cleanliness is next to godliness? Many a child in religious households was given that as a reason to bathe thoroughly and keep the house tidy. (The No. 1 reason, of course, was usually "Because I said so.")

The connection between cleanliness and godliness runs deep in religion itself. Purity often becomes the goal ... purity in doctrine, in rules, in behavior. The result is exclusion as the impure are cast out, kept out or silenced. Order -- liturgical tidiness -- becames more important than breathing fresh life into the old stories of faith.

But research is beginning to show that too much cleanliness in our physical lives may actually harm our health. When our immune systems don't have germs to fight, they turn on us. The result of all those well-scrubbed countertops and antibacterial soaps: an increase in allergies and auto-immune diseases.

A similar thing happens in our faith communities. Too much emphasis on purity and too much insistence on order make us turn on one another. The health of the body fails as love becomes secondary to nit-picking, blame-throwing and turf-guarding. We wield the antiseptic wipe of self-righteous judgment.

Maybe a little messiness would bring us closer to godliness after all.

Easter's daring, dazzling promise

2008-03-23T00:06:00.007-04:00

Now the green blade riseth from the buried grain,

wheat that in dark earth many days has lain;

love lives again, that with the dead has been:

Love is come again like wheat that springeth green.

In the grave they laid him, Love whom hate had slain,

thinking that never he would wake again,

laid in the earth like grain that sleeps unseen:

Love is come again like wheat that springeth green.

Forth he came at Easter, like the risen grain,

he that for three days in the grave had lain,

quick from the dead my risen Lord is seen:

Love is come again like wheat that springeth green.

When our hearts are wintry, grieving or in pain,

thy touch can call us back to life again,

fields of our hearts that dead and bare have been:

Love is come again like wheat that springeth green.

-- John Crum, 1928

---

Out of darkness, light. Out of despair, hope. Out of grief, joy. Out of death, life.

This is the daring, dazzling promise of Easter: that the worst that can happen is not the final word.

May your Easter be blessed. Alleluia!

Day of the suffering God

2008-03-21T09:52:00.005-04:00

Good Friday. What an odd name for a day that commemorates suffering and death.

It's a day that sets Christianity apart from other religions. What other faith celebrates the agony and destruction of God?

Does "celebrate" seem too strong a word? Perhaps. Especially since many Christians prefer to sidestep Good Friday, the day of Jesus' crucifixion and death, and skip directly to Easter, the day of Resurrection and brightly colored eggs.

But there's something powerful in the notion of a God who knows what it's like to thirst, to feel pain, to cry out in abandonment. Not God as invincible superhero but God as helpless victim.

This week I was ill (nothing serious). In the worst of it, while I burned with fever then shook with chills, I thought of the worst days of my husband's cancer, those days when the pain was unremitting and his body became a battlefield. Remembering gave me a sense of perspective about my own discomfort, which would soon pass. And I knew that he would have understood how awful I felt, just as I had an inkling in my little illness of how he felt in his greater struggle. Pain isolates, but the shared experience of it connects.

Good Friday is a reminder, too, that we are not alone in our suffering. That God understands from the inside out, not just in theory.

And when our souls and bodies ache, that can be a greater comfort even than the hope of Easter.

Comments welcome, as always.

Beyond 'the Bible tells me so'

2008-03-13T10:49:00.003-04:00

The problem with careening into theological debates, such as on the nature of sin (yes, I'm aware that I brought it up), is that we always slam into the same wall: What is the ultimate authority?

For d.j. and many other Christians, it is Scripture, taken at face value. Any argument that can't be backed by clear chapter and verse is dismissed.

For other Christians, especially Catholics like danbo, Tradition is added to the authority of Scripture. Church teachings over the centuries add to and interpret what is found in the Bible.

My own denomination teaches that we are to use Scripture, Tradition and Reason. The Bible is taken seriously as the Word of God, but Reason allows us to interpret it using not only the creeds and insights of the Church but also our own experience and understanding. Revelation is seen as an ongoing, living result of our individual and corporate relationship with God.

Obviously the Bible will be read and quoted differently depending on what authority it is given, and whether that authority is shared.

What authority do you accept? How can believers debate serious issues of faith if they don't accept the same authority in the same way?

Does it make any sense to debate issues of faith at all?

Just this once, I ask that the atheists sit this one out; I'm interested in hearing from believers on this topic. Non-Christians are welcome to chime in with their own approach to the role of authority in faith.

Sin: Hereditary disease or poison?

2008-03-11T15:21:00.003-04:00

In the latest news from the Vatican, the Catholic Church has updated its thou-shalt-not list. Church officials aren't creating new sins, of course, only drawing attention to some of the newer ways that humanity wanders from the divine will, including pollution, genetic manipulation, drug abuse and economic social injustice.

Monsignor Gianfranco Girotti said, "If yesterday sin had a rather individualistic dimension, today it has a weight, a resonance, that's especially social, rather than individual."

Social sin? Yikes! It's a lot more comfortable to think of sin on the individual level, especially if you think of it as breaking a specific set of rules. Then it's easy to point to someone like, say, Gov. Eliot Spitzer, and label him a sinner and yourself as righteous. It gets more dicey if, as Jesus taught, attitudes are just as bad as actions: being angry at someone is no better than killing him. Sin is missing the mark, straying from the right path, leaving the way of love.

But if sin is greater than an individual act or attitude -- if it extends to the acts and attitudes of the community at large -- then it is truly impossible to escape. We are born into sin.

And that is what I think is the real meaning of "original sin": We are born into a broken world that values power over love. That world cuts and scars us, enslaves and corrupts us. It is not that we carry some sort of hereditary disease called sin, but that we are poisoned by exposure to it.

This is not ultra-orthodox Christian doctrine, as I'm sure some readers will be happy to point out.

What do you make of sin, individual or social?

God talk only OK for liberals?

2008-03-05T10:03:00.003-05:00

Is there a double standard in how the media react to religious talk from conservative or liberal candidates? Jacques Berlinerblau says yes, based on the silence that greeted Barack Obama's speech to Latino Evangelical and Catholic clerics in Brownsville, Texas.

Among the Obama quotes he pulls out: "And during the course of that sermon, I was introduced to someone named Jesus Christ. I learned that my sins could be redeemed and that if I placed my trust in Christ, He could set me on the path to eternal life."

Berlinerblau, author of "The Secular Bible: Why Nonbelievers Must Take Religion Seriously," writes: "These pious musings have not aroused as much as a peep of protest from nonbelievers and Church-State separatists. (Compare this to the former governor of Arkansas who enraged Secular America when he suggested that we amend the Constitution to God’s standards). This absence of outrage goes a long way in demonstrating how thoroughly secularism in this country is entwined with, and supportive of, political liberalism."

He raises a good point in that former preacher Mike Huckabee did receive a lot more media grief about his outspoken Christianity. Then again, perhaps Obama was given more leeway to proclaim his faith because he had to do so to counter those scurrilous and false rumors that he is a secret Muslim.

What do you think?

God as vending machine

2008-03-03T13:08:00.007-05:00

"That was an answer to prayer."

How many times have you heard that phrase when something wonderful happened? An illness abates or a check arrives in the mail, and ... Yes! God heard the request. God answered.

But what if the illness worsens or the bank forecloses? What if, despite fervent prayers, the plea is denied? To some, this is proof that God doesn't exist, or can't act, or doesn't care. Surely it couldn't be that the answer is "No."

Doug Mendenhall, author of "How Jesus Ended up in the Food Court: 77 Devotional Thoughts You Never Thought About Before," wrote an entertaining column in the Huntsville (Ala.) Times last week on what would happen if the only possible answer were "Yes," even just for one morning. "Let’s say God’s in a quirky mood, like when he created the platypus or nudged the Appalachian State football team past Michigan," Mendenhall begins. "Let’s say he decides, for a few hours only, to drastically relax his standards on miracles. For this one morning, the new protocol is boiled down to:
"1. Requester must believe in God.
"2. Requester must have honorable motives.
"3. Request granted.
"So at 6 a.m. on this special morning, unannounced, God lets the miracles begin..."

I'll let you read the results for yourself.

We like to think that God is a vending machine. Insert a few quarters' worth of prayer into the slot, push the right buttons and the miracle of choice will pop out. My will be done.

As gratifying as that would be, it sells prayer short. Because the true miracle of prayer is that by spending time in God's presence -- opening our hearts and mind to a relationship, not a machine -- we are transformed.

Thoughts?

Are Americans losing their religion?

2008-02-26T20:09:00.008-05:00

"More than one-quarter of American adults (28%) have left the faith in which they were raised in favor of another religion - or no religion at all. If change in affiliation from one type of Protestantism to another is included, 44% of adults have either switched religious affiliation, moved from being unaffiliated with any religion to being affiliated with a particular faith, or dropped any connection to a specific religious tradition altogether."

That's a quote from the new report on the state of religious affiliation in America from the Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life. The Observer's story on the report is here, and the full report, which is well worth exploring, is here.

The report paints a picture of spiritual restlessness, of adults being dissatisfied with the "faith of their fathers," or at least their father's denomination.

Cause for panic? Or cause to celebrate?

I say the latter. And I say this as a member of a mainstream Protestant church -- a group whose numbers are in decline. Why celebrate? I can think of two reasons:

1. It shows that people are not willing to settle for boring, irrelevant services and dry theology. They are seeking communities where they can authentically encounter God and learn to love one another.

2. It's a wake-up call to all houses of worship that they won't keep their members unless they are willing to engage and challenge them on every level -- providing spiritual depth, mental stimulation and opportunities to serve those in need. Being a Sunday-only, mindless, see-and-be-seen, believe-what-you're-told-and-shut-up-about-doubts club won't cut it.

Yes, the study shows there are many who turn away from organized religion altogether. But are they so much worse than pew-warmers who go through the motions but haven't let faith transform their lives?

Perhaps Americans are not so much losing their religion as finding it for themselves.

Which fights will seem petty in 500 years?

2008-02-22T10:21:00.004-05:00

Isn't it interesting that posts about prayer or personal spirituality receive so few comments, while posts about theology draw so many ("Prayer lost in the clutter": 3. "Reading the Bible as non-literal truth": 156 and counting)? I'm not surprised.

Perhaps the posts that receive little response are so boring that nobody has any desire to comment (possible) or that they cover the topic so well that nobody has anything to add (I seriously doubt that!). It's more likely that people are reluctant to open up -- even anonymously -- about something as personal as prayer in something as public as a blog.

But part of it, I feel sure, is simply that theology lends itself to argument in a way that spirituality doesn't. Dogma separates, while the experience of mystery unites. This is true across religious lines as well as within a particular faith or denomination.

I remember being horrified when I read about the bloody struggles between Catholics and Protestants in 16th-century England. Believers were burned at the stake over differences that strike us now as petty. Political power struggles were given a veneer of pseudo-righteousness when opponents were decried as heretics or papists.

How we love to insist that everyone believe exactly what we believe! But creeds don't transform lives; prayer does.

It makes me wonder which of today's debates will make our descendants shake their heads in disbelief. My guess: the bitter fights over homosexuality and the leadership of women.

Thoughts?

Prayer lost in the clutter

2008-02-19T09:26:00.004-05:00

Yesterday I sat in the chair where I most like to pray ... only this time I couldn't. It wasn't a crisis of faith, just a crisis of clutter.

After clearing some folded clothes off the chair, I settled into prayerful silence. But the rest of the room shouted chaos and neglect, and no matter how I tried, I couldn't shut it out. The lack of order was as noisy as a jackhammer, as distracting as a buzzing mosquito.

Now, I confess to being an indifferent housekeeper with a high tolerance for disorder, so this loss of serenity surprised me. It got me to thinking about the ways we fill our lives with clutter -- not just things, but tasks and projects and obligations and habits -- and how that clutter keeps us from being with God. We try to squeeze our spiritual life into the cracks between mounting piles of acquisitions and accomplishments. And then we wonder why God is so hard to find.

I went to a somewhat more orderly room to finish praying, and part of that prayer was an acknowledgment of my need for clear priorities and sacred simplicity.

Then I spent the rest of the evening cleaning the room that was too noisy even when silent.

--
Do you find that the clutter of your life pushes out God? What makes prayer difficult for you?

Archbishop pushes Islamic law?

2008-02-14T10:33:00.004-05:00

Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams, spiritual leader of the world's 77 million Anglicans, poked a stick in a hornets nest last week. According to media reports, he said it "seemed unavoidable" that Britain would have to adopt elements of Sharia law, the Islamic legal code. Here's a good explanation of the controversy, from the Sunday Times of London.

A frenzied swarm of critics quickly emerged, from Prime Minister Gordon Brown to the tabloid Sun ("It's easy to dismiss Archbiship of Canterbury Rowan Williams as a silly old goat. In fact, he's a dangerous threat to our nation.") to fomer Archbishop of Canterbury George Carey ("His is a view I cannot share. Acceptance of some Muslim laws within British law would be disastrous for the nation.")

As the Times reported, "He produced one of the most unlikely coalitions seen in Britain in recent times. He was attacked by conservatives, liberals, all three leading political parties, fellow Christians, Jews and, indeed, some Muslims. "

The repeatedly stung archbishop attempted to clarify his remarks on his Web site, including links to the original speech and his interview with the BBC.

Rowan Williams is a brilliant man whose deep theological musings tend to be misunderstood when simplified into sound bites. I think it's clear that what he intended to say was far less radical than his critics accuse him of saying. A partial accommodation of religious law -- as is already done with the Orthodox Jewish community -- is far from the parallel legal system that some accuse him of advocating.

Still, even if it was the right thing to say, it was the wrong time to say it. At a time when Western democracies feel threatened by immigration's effect on culture and militant Islam's use of terror, suggesting that Britain's legal system make room for Sharia law was incredibly brave, stunningly oblivious or simply foolish.

What do you think?

Wayfaring strangers, homesick for God

2008-02-11T10:55:00.000-05:00

j.j. asked (Feb. 8, 7:14 AM): "I believe God put it into our hearts that we are all strangers in this world, and never quite feel 100% comfortable. Is it because we know we are going to die or is it because he wanted us to long for Him (or both)?"

j.j.'s question reminds me of the haunting Appalachian spiritual "Wayfaring Stranger," which can be heard here. "I am a poor wayfaring stranger, wandering through this world of woe. But there's no sickness, toil or danger in that bright land to which I go ... "

There seems to be an innate human longing for something more, something beyond this life. The death of loved ones is hard to endure without that hope. I don't think, though, that this longing is simply shaking our collective fist at mortality. It feels more like a yearning for an existence we know but have forgotten. Homesickness for a home we can't describe.

French scientist and religious philosopher Blaise Pascal wrote: "What else does this craving, and this helplessness, proclaim but that there was once in man a true happiness, of which all that now remains is the empty print and trace? This he tries in vain to fill with everything around him, seeking in things that are not there the help he cannot find in those that are, though none can help, since this infinite abyss can be filled only with an infinite and immutable object; in other words by God himself."

This is sometimes called the God-shaped hole -- the emptiness in us that can only be filled by God. As St. Augustine put it, "You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you."

One reason for the tradition of giving up something for Lent is that it helps us to see how addicted we have become to whatever we use to satisfy our cravings, to fill that hole. And when we encounter that terrifying emptiness, that "infinite abyss," while disarmed of our usual defenses against it, we are more likely to stop and look deeply into it. We are more likely to find what truly belongs there.

So, j.j., my answer would be "both." It is both a hope for life that endures beyond death and a realization that this material world is only part of our existence -- that we are spiritual beings who find our purpose and fulfillment in God. Whether God planted it there or it is a logical outcome of being mortal yet spiritual creatures, I have no idea.

Thoughts?

Shadow of death puts life in new light

2008-02-07T10:06:00.000-05:00

"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

Those words are spoken as a priest smears ashes in the form of a cross on the foreheads of worshippers. It's the solemn mark of Ash Wednesday, and I came home with that mark last night.

The ashes felt more real this year after having held and scattered the ashes that are all that remain of my husband's flesh and bones. This year ashes were not a metaphor of death but a real, tangible link to loss. That loss also marks me -- less visibly, perhaps, but it doesn't wash off.

Remember. As if I could forget that he is dust. That I am dust.

But the point of the Ash Wednesday service is not just to rub mortality in our face but to remind us to live. It kicks off the season of Lent, a time of self-examination and repentance. It's a time to look honestly at how far we have wandered off course and to turn back, trusting in God's guidance and forgiveness.

The shadow of death puts our lives in a new light. Priorities shift. Time is too precious to waste. Life is too short to squander.

Because, although it is true we are dust, that is not all that we are.

Thoughts?

Reading the Bible as non-literal truth

2008-01-30T19:03:00.000-05:00

Before the comments veered off into the minefield of homosexuality, Chris wrote (Jan. 27, 11:29 a.m.):

"It brings up the point: can there be moderates in religion? You can’t pick and choose, in my opinion, what parts of the Bible you like and don’t like to believe in. You accept the Bible as the word of God – or you don’t."

Yes, there can be moderates in religion, because accepting the Bible as the word of God doesn’t necessarily mean reading it as a science or history textbook – or even as a rule book. You don’t have to take it literally to take it seriously.

If you believe that "word of God" means that it was dictated by the Almighty, with every word perfectly preserved to say exactly what God intended, then yes, it would be hypocritical to pick and choose.

But I, like many Christians, believe that although the Bible was inspired by God, it was written by men – men who, like all of us, were limited by their culture, biases and world view. Reading it from this perspective, we can see evidence not just of God’s self-revelation to humanity but also of humanity’s stumbling attempts to understand God.

We don’t have to try to reconcile the timelines of two creation tales or four gospels, because each story reveals its own truth.

We don’t have to choose which arcane regulations we must follow (or enforce) because we take our marching orders from the overarching theme: that God is with us and calls us to respond with love for God and neighbor.

We internalize the stories of scripture by reading them, by hearing them, by re-enacting them in liturgy. And their wisdom then guides our lives in a way that a rulebook never could.

Faith cast in concrete sinks

2008-01-26T11:35:00.000-05:00

In the comments on my last post, jaycee wrote (Jan. 26, 10:03 a.m.):

"The problem with religion is that it is cast in concrete. Folks generations ago who never knew the extent of God’s world or its evolutionary history came up with their best shot on how things came about and how we should get where we’re going, and they’ve successfully imposed it upon successive generations. But we've never bothered to update the manual."

I agree. Concrete is exactly what religion shouldn't be. A living, breathing faith must have the ability to grow, to be open to new revelation. If we believe in a God who seeks us out, who meets us where we are and seeks to draw us ever closer, then we can't assume that there's no more to learn.

Part of the early struggle in Christianity was a tug between those who thought the rules had been set in stone and those who were willing to live into a new faith.

Today many Christians reject the cast-in-concrete approach. They value the discoveries of science and welcome new insights. They are more interested in loving like God than speaking for God. Perhaps they aren't the ones who get the most attention, but they are the ones who will keep the faith alive for future generations.

jaycee added: "The pastor of a Park Road rock & roll church once preached: 'Secularism is the greatest threat to Christianity'. Darn tooting it is, and for good reason!"

I heartily disagree! The greatest threat to Christianity is (and always has been) Christians who don't follow the example of Christ.

Religion makes Charlotte stronger

2008-01-25T09:50:00.000-05:00

Will religion sabotage Charlotte's future? That was the provocative topic of community columnist David Walters' column on Jan. 23. Specifically, he worries about "the erosion of belief in science and rationality." He writes: "Our city will need all its smarts in the years ahead; we can't waste precious time and energy fighting fairy tale creationists who want to turn the clock back to pre-Darwinian days of medieval mysticism, or others who bizarrely believe global warming is some sort of 'socialist plot.'"

What troubles me most about this argument is the assumption that science and rationality are wholly incompatible with faith. People are assumed to fall into one of two opposing camps: They are smart or gullible, rational modernists or loonies who haven't advanced since the Middle Ages.

Are there some religious people who fit that description? Sure. Do they stand in the way of scientific progress? Sometimes. Is that all there is to faith? Absolutely not.

There's no contradiction between accepting all the wonders that science reveals about our universe, including our own evolution, and the belief that there is a greater force at the center of it all. Scientists can tell us the how but never the why, the facts but never the meaning.

Frankly, I'm baffled by believers who consider science a threat, as well as by secularists who consider mysticism a threat. They are two different ways of perception, equally enlightening.

So has religion made this "city of churches" backward? Does it threaten our future? That's absurd. Charlotte's communities of faith have given birth to hospitals, Meals on Wheels, soup kitchens and many other services that make this a stronger community. They have been a prophetic voice in the fight for civil rights. They build Habitat houses and travel to disaster areas. They offer hope to individuals lost in addiction or sinking in despair.

They remind their members that there is a higher purpose, a higher calling than selfish striving. They teach love of God and neighbor. Many are teaching the need for a more responsible approach to the environment.

Does that outweigh the anti-science leanings of some believers? I'd say so. I wouldn't want to live in a city that has every technological advantage but has forgotten to care.

What do you think?

Religion's no laughing matter? Ha!

2008-01-16T08:51:00.000-05:00

Have you heard the one about the unscrupulous contractor who watered down the paint he was using on the church's steeple? A sudden storm came up, a gust of wind blew him to the ground, and as he looked up in pain and fear, a deep voice boomed, "Repaint and thin no more!"

Do you know the four religious truths all people of faith need to know?
1. Muslims don't recognize Jews as God's chosen people.
2. Jews don't recognize Jesus as the Messiah.
3. Protestants don't recognize the pope as the leader of the Christian world.
4. Baptists don't recognize each other at Hooters.

And then there are those party-loving, far-from-teetotalling Episcopalians: Wherever two or three are gathered together, you'll find a fifth.

Go ahead. Laugh. You know you want to.

The more important something is to us -- whether faith, family or a great cause -- the more essential it is to laugh about it. I don't mean the mocking, derisive sort of laughter, but the chortles that spring from seeing the absurdity that lurks in every human endeavor. It keeps us from taking ourselves too seriously. It punctures our pomposity.

When joking about such a potentially sensitive subject as religion, of course, it's wiser to poke fun at your own tradition than to rib others. In your own family of faith you're more likely to know where the line is drawn between humor and attack. Laughter turns ugly when that line is crossed -- I was once appalled to hear a Christian make a casual joke about the Holocaust. Hint to aspiring comics: Anything that kills millions of people is not a laughing matter.

Some Muslims have reacted with deadly violence to cartoons and caricatures that they saw as an attack on Islam or the Prophet Muhammad. As British author and broadcaster Sarfraz Manzoor wrote last month in The Washington Post, "Muslims aren't exactly famous these days for lightheartedness." But that's changing, he wrote, with the rise of Muslim comedians who can poke fun at themselves:

"Earlier this year, I sat in a West London hall watching a heavily bearded Muslim man rip into his audience. Azhar Usman is no fundamentalist; he's an American comedian who tours with two fellow Muslims in a show they call 'Allah Made Me Funny.' Everywhere I looked, British Muslims of all ages -- some women wearing head scarves, some men in suits -- were doing something you hardly ever see: laughing. Here were ordinary, moderate Muslims reveling in a good time, as if in defiance of the extreme voices that overpower theirs in the public square.

"The irony is that 'Allah Made Me Funny' springs from a tradition that stretches back to the days of the prophet Muhammad himself, who by all accounts enjoyed a good laugh; indeed, he had a companion with the honorific title 'jester of the prophet.' It's only recently that Muslims have become sensitive about religious jokes. "

Laughter: the antidote to extremism. What a great punchline!

---

Care to share a joke about your own tradition?

Miss the right turn? Recalculating...

2008-01-14T10:23:00.000-05:00

Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, "This is the way; walk in it."
-- Isaiah 30:21

It struck me as I was taking my birthday present, a GPS (Global Positioning System), out for a test run. How much easier it would be if believers had a GWPS (God's Will Positioning System) that would give such clear and precise directions for the turns of our lives.

"Turn right in 500 feet to meet future spouse." "Continue in present career for six years." "Donate $50 to Loaves & Fishes food bank in one mile on left."

Instead, discernment is hard. We stumble along, making the best decisions we can, never quite sure if it's the right path -- listening hard after taking a step for that voice that whispers "This is the way." And sometimes we can hear it in the peace that fills us after the decision is made.

"Turn left on I-85 in 0.5 miles," the helpful woman in my GPS advised. I decided to ignore her. "Turn left on I-85," the GPS insisted. No.

I glanced nervously at the little device, half expecting a lecture: "What do you think you are doing? Turn around, you fool! How do you expect to get anywhere if you don't follow directions?"

What I heard instead was one word: "Recalculating." Then Ms. GPS (Graciously Patient System?) gave me another turn, an alternate way to get back on track from where I was.

I thought then of all the times that, oblivious, I miss a turn in my life. Of all the times that, willful, I go left when I know I need to bear right. Of all the times I force God to say -- with a sigh, perhaps? -- "Recalculating."

But that's the encouraging part. It doesn't matter how far we wander off course, the GWPS directs us home from wherever we are. Whether we turn to the right or the left, the voice tells us the way from there. Wherever we are at this moment is the beginning of the right path.

It's an imperfect metaphor, of course. I choose where the GPS takes me, but God is not a tool to guide us where we want to go -- unless the destination we most desire is to be close to God. In my better moments, that's exactly where I want to be.

Driving down the recalculated route, I start humming "Amazing Grace." "... I once was lost but now am found ..."

--

Where do you hope your life will go? How do you know when you are on the right path?

The ultimate proof of God

2008-01-10T17:05:00.000-05:00

Our conversation always comes back to one question
– The Question, I suppose, for any discussion about religion: Does God exist?

Those who have cast their lot with faith tend to get defensive when something so near to their heart is questioned. Those who dismiss faith as delusion become frustrated at the blind credulity of believers. Neither finds the other's arguments persuasive. And even fellow believers disagree over which arguments hold water (Because the Bible tells me so? Mystical experience? Church authority?).

I like what Dr. James Howell of Charlotte's Myers Park Methodist Church wrote in his current series of e-mails on questions about faith:

"God remains hidden, elusive, beyond our grasp – perhaps to drive us crazy, but perhaps so we will seek after God, so faith will be required, so love will yearn for fruition. ...

"If someone attacks the faith, if someone shudders over the very idea of God and religion, we might ask – Why? Often those who are hostile to God have been hurt by the Church, or personally disappointed by God or Christians in some profoundly painful way. Perhaps the first response to doubt is listening; perhaps the truest answer to the absence of faith is love. In the earliest days of the Church, what persuaded skeptics wasn’t the intellectual sophistication of Christianity, but the way the Christians loved, and acted on what they said they believed. The ultimate proof of God isn’t an argument, but love in action."

He adds in a later reflection:

"The most alluring proof of God’s existence for me is the way people who devote themselves to God live transformed, joyful, purposeful lives, their charity and embrace of goodness, their courage in the face of agony. The cure for doubt in our world isn’t entirely intellectual, but rests in the hands of God’s people, who too often lead vapid lives or merely dabble in faith instead of embodying the real thing."

Do you agree? Is there worth in arguing, or is that energy better spent in finding ways to love?

Resolved: Find resolutions that matter

2008-01-03T09:58:00.000-05:00

It's a new year, and you know what that means ...

Fireworks! But no, we'll save the debate over the authority of scripture for another day.

Instead, let's talk about resolutions.

Like lots of people, I tend to make too many, piling good intentions so high that they inevitably crash and leave me with an even bigger mess to sweep away. It helps, I've found, to be more discerning -- to whittle down the list to one or two goals. And that very process helps me see which are most important and how they relate to my deepest values.

Take one of the most common resolutions: losing weight. Dropping pounds for the sake of looking like a runway model means nothing to me. But getting in shape by eating better and exercising can also be seen as honoring my God-given body. Better health can help me to better serve others. So if I choose to make this a resolution (as I should), I will approach the effort with a deeper understanding of why it matters.

Just about every resolution has a spiritual component:

Getting finances in order is not a way to afford more electronic gadgets or a bigger house. It is exercising wise stewardship of the gifts God has entrusted to us.

Clearing out clutter creates a more restful, meditative, prayerful space.

Volunteering in the community or helping individuals in need -- caring for "the least of these" -- teaches us how to love and makes this world a more heavenly place.

I'm still praying about my resolutions for 2008. What about you? Do you make resolutions? How do you choose them? How do they connect to your spiritual life?

We almost miss the manger

2007-12-24T12:25:00.000-05:00

I'll give you better words than mine this Christmas Eve. Here is a fine memory that Frederick Buechner relates in "Whistling in the Dark: A Doubter's Dictionary":

The young clergyman and his wife do all the things you do on Christmas Eve. They string the lights and hang the ornaments. They supervise the hanging of the stockings. They tuck in the children. They lug the presents down out of hiding and pile them under the tree. Just as they're about to fall exhausted into bed, the husband remembers his neighbor's sheep. The man asked him to feed them for him while he was away, and in the press of other matters that night he forgot all about them. So down the hill he goes through knee-deep snow. He gets two bales of hay from the barn and carries them out to the shed. There's a forty-watt bulb hanging by its cord from the low roof, and he lights it. The sheep huddle in a corner watching as he snaps the baling twine, shakes the squares of hay apart and starts scattering it. Then they come bumbling and shoving to get at it with their foolish, mild faces, the puffs of their breath showing in the air. He is reaching to turn off the bulb and leave when suddenly he realizes where he is. The winter darkness. The glimmer of light. The smell of the hay and the sound of the animals eating. Where he is, of course, is the manger.

He only just saw it. He whose business it is above everything else to have an eye for such things is all but blind in that eye. He who on his best days believes that everything that is most precious anywhere comes from that manger might easily have gone home to bed never knowing that he had himself just been in the manger. The world is the manger. It is only by grace that he happens to see this other part of the miracle.

Christmas itself is by grace. It could never have survived our own blindness and depredations otherwise. It could never have happened otherwise. Perhaps it is the very wildness and strangeness of the grace that has led us to try to tame it. We have tried to make it habitable. We have roofed it in and furnished it. We have reduced it to an occasion we feel at home with, at best a touching and beautiful occasion, at worst a trite and cloying one. But if the Christmas event in itself is indeed -- as a matter of cold, hard fact -- all it's cracked up to be, then even at best our efforts are misleading.

The Word become flesh. Ultimate Mystery born with a skull you could crush one-handed. Incarnation. It is not tame. It is not touching. It is not beautiful. It is uninhabitable terror. It is unthinkable darkness riven with unbearable light. Agonized laboring led to it, vast upheavals of intergalactic space, time split apart, a wrenching and tearing of the very sinews of reality itself. You can only cover your eyes and shudder before it, before this: "God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God ... who for us and for our salvation," as the Nicene Creed puts it, "came down from heaven."

Came down. Only then do we dare uncover our eyes and see what we can see. It is the Resurrection and the Life she holds in her arms. It is the bitterness of death he takes at her breast.

Language no barrier to feeling at home

2007-12-23T13:42:00.000-05:00

I had the great good fortune to attend a Jewish wedding last night and be reminded again of the beauty of that faith's services. Could anything touch the heart more deeply than the chanted prayers? Although I do not know Hebrew, language was no barrier to understanding. They spoke straight to my soul. I could gladly have listened to the prayers all night, even though the dessert table was beckoning.

One topic of conversation after the service was how everyone was connected to the couple. One woman described how she came to join their congregation. "My kids went to services first," she said, "and they came back and told me that it felt like home. So I went, too, and they were right."

It felt like home. Yes. That is exactly how the Jewish prayers had felt to me. It is the same feeling I have known at my own church's Easter Vigil and Christmas Eve services -- and also in a silent, dark room with only a single candle. Home.

Isn't that what so many of us seek in a church or temple or mosque? Home. A place of warmth and welcome. A place that draws out the best in us, that connects us to God and one another, that points us toward meaning. A place where we can be our true selves, where we belong. A place where we can learn to love.

In this season when Christians celebrate a baby born far from the familiar comforts of home, my wish for all people, of all faiths, is this: No matter where your journey takes you, may you find that home awaits you there.

Recapturing the wonder

2007-12-19T09:46:00.000-05:00

Nick wrote after the last post, "I hope to recapture more wonder this Christmas." I suspect that's a common yearning.

We see wonder in the eyes of children as they experience the magic of Santa's bounty. We can imagine the quiet wonder of Mary as she gazed into the eyes of her newborn son or the awed wonder of shepherds hearing "Glory to God in the highest." If we're lucky, we remember our own times of wonder, when grace shook us from complacent comfort and the impossible became real.

So we leave the door open for wonder. We invite it with candlelit services and familiar carols, with sparkling lights and piles of presents. And still it comes where and when we least expect it. In a stable, not an inn. In a baby, not a king.

I wrote a column published Dec. 23, 1987, about wonder taking me by surprise. Here's that story again:

A day with a difference

Eyes opened slowly, reluctantly in the gray light of a winter morning. Another day. Another choice: to hop out of bed and get ready for work or to snuggle deeper into the electric blanket. I rolled over, cherishing the warmth, hiding in the pillow’s soft darkness. Just a few minutes more. . . .

Another day. I began to take a sluggish inventory of the day’s schedule: Nothing planned except work. I ought to be at the newsroom by about 2 p.m. and would be lucky to leave by midnight. Same as always. Another day.

Waking has never come easily to me, but this day seemed harder than most. Hadn’t I been out late the night before? A melody drifted through my mind, picking up words along the way. Silent night, holy night…

Oh. That’s right. Last night I had gone to a midnight Christmas Eve service - not at my church, though; that service started too early for me to get there from work. This church was not even of the same denomination, but the liturgy was lovely, the music uplifting. Afterwards I lit a candle and listened to a recording of Benjamin Britten’s "Ceremony of Carols," as I do every Christmas Eve.

Eyes opened again, more conscious this time. Christmas Eve. That meant today must be Christmas.

The awareness sank into my mind with a dull thud. So it's Christmas. Just another day, except that all the restaurants are closed.

I still had to work, which meant I couldn’t drive four hours to be with my family. News doesn’t stop for holidays; even if it does, people expect a paper full of stories anyway. I had worked every Christmas since leaving college.

No relatives lived anywhere near. No one was coming to visit. I hadn’t bothered to decorate for the holidays; it hardly seemed worth the effort.

Faint noises came from the living room. My roommate Julie was already up, of course. She had to work today, too, but she didn’t seem bothered by it. Of course, she was Jewish. Christmas to her was … well, just another day. Just like for me. Only I wanted it to be so much more.

I pulled the covers higher, still not eager to face the day, but my cats were jumping onto the bed and yowling, ready for breakfast. They didn’t care what day it was, but they cared greatly if their food was late. With a sigh, I rose, threw on a robe and stumbled out of my bedroom … into Christmas.

My largest houseplant, bedecked with brightly colored bows, was surrounded by a multitude of small, cheerfully wrapped packages. Julie sat at one side, holding out a cup of hot, spiced tea. "Merry Christmas!" she said.

And it was.

Did she realize how totally shocked and delighted I was, how full of wonder? I don’t remember being so excited since Santa’s mystique faded. But Mr. Claus, apparently, was alive and well -- and still had a few tricks up his red sleeve.

Slowly, savoring the moment, I unwrapped the presents. They were small, inexpensive items, but I felt richer than kings. Not even the cats were forgotten; there were little treats just for them, although they were content lazily attacking stray ribbons.

Driving to work a few hours later, I joyfully sang carols at full voice. The day, I noticed, was much brighter. The sun had appeared. Or had it been out all along?

Julie’s gift outlasted that Christmas of a few years ago, because what she gave was not only one happy morning but an enduring memory. And not only a memory, but a hopeful awareness that glorious surprises lie in wait around every dark corner of my life. And not only a memory, but a calling to reach out in small ways to the people around me -- to make their days special and full of love.

When I am asked now about my favorite yuletide ever, I don’t think of the holidays of my childhood, however full of family fun and special gifts. I think of a gray winter morning that started out as just another day -- but through the kindness of a friend became truly Christmas.

Holidays put flesh on mystery

2007-12-18T09:33:00.000-05:00

You're standing in a long line of impatient shoppers, listening to "Winter Wonderland" for the 15th time that day and holding a credit card that should have been locked away a dozen charges ago. Who would blame you for wondering: What's the point? Why celebrate Christmas anyway? It's not as though Dec. 25 is really the birthday of Jesus. It's just another day.

And if you're feeling particularly grouchy, you might wonder why we celebrate religious festivals at all. Why Hanukkah? Why Easter? Why Eid al-Fitr?

Well, part of the reason, of course, is that everyone loves a party. Everyone loves a feast. Holidays break up the year, giving workers a reason to rest and families an excuse to gather.

But these festivals feed our souls, not just our bodies. They remind us of the great mysteries of faith -- and more, they invite us to relive them, to enter the story, to make it real in us.

In Hanukkah, which was celebrated earlier this month, observant Jews do not merely remember the miracle of the oil that lasted for eight days. They light candles on the menorah and experience the illumination themselves.

There's something about engaging the story with our own flesh -- whether it's lighting the menorah or taking part in a Nativity pageant -- that makes spiritual truth come alive.

(By the way, Hanukkah is not the most significant Jewish holiday. It has been blown up in importance in this country by its proximity to Christmas. As the Judaism 101 site says, "It is bitterly ironic that this holiday, which has its roots in a revolution against assimilation and the suppression of Jewish religion, has become the most assimilated, secular holiday on our calendar." Christians who decry the secularization of Christmas sympathize.)

Do religious rituals or festivals help you to enter the mystery of your faith?

At the crossroad of joy and loss

2007-12-13T17:18:00.000-05:00

Everyone warned me the holidays would be difficult this year. Friends who had lost loved ones said the sights and sounds of Christmas would stir painful, lovely memories of my husband and the many holidays we celebrated together before his death.

The blow didn't fall, though, until I came across an old videotape that we shot at Christmastime 15 years ago. It was easy to smile as the camera zoomed in on familiar old ornaments that were then shiny and new. It was delightful to see my son, now a senior in high school, be once again a wide-eyed toddler. And then a clear, sweet tenor voice began to sing:

O come, o come, Emmanuel,
and ransom captive Israel,
who mourns in lonely exile here
until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel will come to thee, o Israel.

We used to sing that ancient chant every night as we lit the Advent candles -- a cry of yearning, of hope, of wildest dreams coming true at long last.

The intersection of joy and loss was almost unbearable.

And yet, that aching crossroad brought me closer to Christmas than any trip to the tinsel-bedecked malls could. It reminded me that the coming of the Christ child, like any baby's birth, involved both pain and hope. The pain of labor passes, but the hope endures because new life has been born, full of possibility. Here and now are transformed by the eternal.

"Emmanuel" means "God with us." With us in the craziness of December. In the emptiness of loss. In the agony of birth. In the fading videos of memory and the boxes of dusty ornaments waiting to be hung on a newly cut tree.

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Questioning candidates about faith

2007-12-06T16:34:00.000-05:00

Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney gave an interesting speech today about the intersection of religion and politics, prompted by evangelical Christians' apparent unease with his Mormon faith. These sentences jumped out at me:

"Perhaps the most important question to ask a person of faith who seeks a political office, is this: Does he share these American values – the equality of humankind, the obligation to serve one another and a steadfast commitment to liberty?

"They are not unique to any one denomination. They belong to the great moral inheritance we hold in common. They’re the firm ground on which Americans of different faiths meet and stand as a nation, united."

I appreciate Romney's attempt to identify common ground in America's ideals. But is "Do you share American values?" really the most important question to ask "a person of faith who seeks a political office"? It would be more revealing to hear the answers to these:

How has your faith shaped who you are?

What effect does your faith have on your actions? What have you done out of commitment to God that you would not have done otherwise?

Does your faith change how you see other people, other nations, other religions?

What is your image of God?

How do you pray?

Yes, these questions are nosy and personal, and the chance of getting honest answers of any depth would be approximately zero. But wouldn't it be fascinating to know...

What would you ask?

Wait? Who has time for that?

2007-12-03T08:24:00.000-05:00

Sunday marked the beginning of Advent, the Christian season of waiting.

But who has time to wait? Our motto is gotta-have-it-now, with overnight shipping, next-day delivery or immediate download.

We're more likely to demand immediate satisfaction than to wait with expectant hope. Sure, we may admit that certain things can't be rushed -- pregnancy, for instance, or a teenager's maturity -- but that doesn't stop us from frowning and pacing and fretting.

No wonder we have trouble being still. No wonder we can't be at peace. No wonder we become so caught up in the whirlwind of "Christmas" that we forget to breathe.

One of my favorite quotes is from Henri Nouwen, the French writer and priest who learned patience in part from living with disabled adults:

"To wait open-endedly is an enormously radical attitude toward life. So is to trust that something will happen to us that is far beyond our own imaginings. So, too, is giving up control over our future and letting God define our life, trusting that God molds us according to God’s love and not according to our fear. The spiritual life is a life in which we wait, actively present to the moment, trusting that new things will happen to us, new things that are far beyond our own imagination, fantasy or prediction."

What new things are being born in you this Advent? Are finding it hard to wait for their arrival?

Giving thanks, no matter what

2007-11-27T15:21:00.000-05:00

For the past week I have been about the important tasks of connecting with family and giving thanks.

The first task proved to be easier than the second.

Events in the past week forcefully reminded me that giving thanks is not the same as feeling satisfied that all is as it should be.

It was a bit difficult to give thanks when my deer-damaged car wasn't repaired in time for the drive to Atlanta. How can you be grateful when your plans are frustrated?

It was harder to give thanks when I discovered six inches of water in my basement. How can you be grateful while throwing out ruined possessions and wading in filth?

Hardest of all was the funeral of a teenager who died on Thanksgiving Day. How could anyone even think of giving thanks in that situation? How is it possible?

It's possible because gratitude does not depend on our feelings of contentment. It doesn't require us to approve of what is happening. Instead, it is the willingness to let go of our annoyance or anger or even grief, if only for a moment. It is the deep, healing breath that cuts through our gasps of desperation.

It is the acknowledgement that our pain or inconvenience is not the sum total of reality. There is more, and it is good. Otherwise we wouldn't feel the losses so keenly. The change in travel plans grates because I know the loving welcome that awaits me at my destination. The flooded basement annoys because it is the literal foundation of that special place called home. The death of a promising young man is agonizing to those who know him or his parents because he brought such light to the world. Because he loved and was loved.

Here's a paradox: We can be grateful because of the very things that make gratitude more difficult. Because they are precious, their loss hurts. But because they are precious, they are gifts for which we can truly and sincerely give thanks.

What do you think? Is it important to give thanks even when it seems more reasonable to complain?

A walk in the book of Creation

2007-11-16T10:55:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I walked through the woods on our property, as I once did far more frequently. The old trails were harder to find, choked with underbrush and blocked by fallen trees. It was easier during my husband's illness to withdraw -- physically into the house and emotionally into worry and fear.

Now, taking the walk seemed a daring act, a venture into the unexpected.

But what I found was familiar: the rich, heady scent of soil, the sight of wind tickling leaves that fell laughing to the ground, the cool touch of boulders older than history. Ghosts of past joys lingered in well-remembered places: the steep hill we careened down after a snowfall, the clearing where my husband once built a sweat lodge, the rock where I sat and dreamed of new directions. The seven-trunked tree that had been mostly dead was now entirely dead, yet filled with life; a variety of creatures called it home.

One remembered sound was missing -- the creek's song was silent. The long drought has reduced its usual flow to a trickle. I stood a long time looking at what it had become.

The Celtic Christian tradition held that God revealed himself in two books: the book of Scripture and the book of Creation. That nature speaks of the sacred if we are willing to enter it with eyes and ears and hearts open.

What nature told me on this walk was that, like the creek, I was dry and thirsty. I needed to return to these paths, open this book, experience its wild truth.

What have you found in the book of Creation?

Screeching brakes and God's plan

2007-11-13T13:56:00.000-05:00

When I felt my car slam into a solid object, saw glass fly and heard the sickening thud of metal crushing bone, my first thought wasn't, "Why didn't God intervene?"

My first thought was a word you would not hear in church.

My second thought was terror that I might have hit a child, since I knew I wasn't close enough to another car.

My third thought was relief that the object was a deer and that my son and I were unharmed -- although the same can't be said of my months-old car.

The incident left me thinking, though, about how suddenly life can change, how disasters much worse than hitting a wayward deer can strike without warning. When the unthinkable happens and proves we're not invulnerable after all (our favorite delusion), big questions bubble up.

Why did this happen? What does it mean? And the perennial favorite: Why didn't God stop it, if he exists and is all-powerful?

Some people see misfortune, injustice and evil as proof that God must not exist -- or is too weak or uncaring to act on our behalf. Others are quick to tell those who suffer that it's all part of God's inscrutable plan.

What these views share in common is the assumption that a loving, powerful God would necessarily micromanage and manipulate the lives of every human being.

Since when was that a requirement of love?

I believe that bad things happen because they happen, not because God is pulling our strings to punish or polish us. That doe chose to run into the road; God didn't send her in my path so I'd have something to write in this blog.

But here is where belief makes a difference. Because of my faith, I was willing to look past the fright and inconvenience of the wreck and let its lessons shape my spiritual life. Upon reflection, I had to acknowledge how attached I had become to that vehicle, how proud I was of its little luxuries. I pondered the need to be more aware of my surroundings -- not just while driving, but in my interactions with other people.

And I was reminded again that no matter what happens, God is with me -- not causing or preventing disasters, but redeeming them from meaninglessness.

A wreck doesn't have to be part of God's plan to be used for God's purposes. That's up to us.

Thoughts?

Star Wars and the All-Faith SmackDown

2007-11-09T11:52:00.000-05:00

d.j. wrote: "Jane, it seems you want a discussion where everyone shares their experiences and we all embrace those experiences as equally valid. This is not possible for someone like myself who believes in the absolute and exclusive truth of the gospel of Christ."

Share experiences? Yes. And beliefs. And ways of worship. And images of God. And thoughts about prayer. And more.

Embrace them as equally valid? Not at all.

I do not want to squelch conviction. I do not want any of you to feel inhibited in talking about your own beliefs. All I want to discourage is attacking other people's beliefs, especially when those people are saying that's not what they believe at all.

An exaggerated, imaginary example:

Person A writes "I think God is just like the Force in the Star Wars movies."

The sort of responses I'd prefer that we avoid:

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"No, people like you really believe that God is Darth Vader and wants to blow up Earth with his Death Star, which would kill billions of people."

"Everyone who believes that faces eternal damnation."

"Point to a verse in the Bible that proves it. If it's not there, you have no right to believe it."

A better response:

"I don't think God is like the Force at all. I think he's more like Gandalf in 'Lord of the Rings' or Aslan in the Narnia books because ..."

Or:

"That's not in line with what I read in the Bible, which I take as the final authority. I see the Bible as saying this about God ... "

Best response of all:

"Really? What makes you think that?"

The difference is "I believe" as opposed to "You're wrong."

It's not necessary to assume that everything said is true. I'm not asking you, d.j., to believe any less that you know absolute truth. All I'm asking is that you let others say what they believe to be true. You don't have to agree, but you also don't have to tell them they're wrong point by point. Not everyone reads the Bible in the same way you do or takes it as the ultimate revelation of God.

I don't mean to pick on d.j., who has presented his thoughts respectfully. I'm responding directly to him because he made an assumption about what I wanted here. So to clarify:

I want this blog to be a forum where we can learn what matters to one another, not as a wrestling ring where we determine whose view of God whups the competition. Welcome to the All-Faith SmackDown!!!!! Does the world really need that? I sure don't.

By the way, thank you for the kind words about my husband, who died in April from cancer. I wrote a few columns about his illness and death for the Viewpoint page in the Observer, which is why I didn't go into more detail in my last post.

Is angry debate all there is to organized religion?

2007-11-08T17:50:00.000-05:00

I've been away for a while, but I see the conversation continued. I wish it had done so with less rancor -- with more of a desire to understand other views than an eagerness to prove them wrong. But that will only happen when people write about their own beliefs rather than insisting that they know what someone else believes, or that they know another person's motivations for posting.

So is it true that this sort of argument is the inevitable fruit of organized religion? Is it the best that churches can offer?

If I thought so, you certainly wouldn't find me there almost every Sunday. I know better, though.

Despite the noisy, often nasty debates that make up much of the news we hear about religion, that's not the real face of faith. Most people don't go to church or synagogue or mosque to join an argument. They go for community. They go to learn how to love. They go to find God.

This past weekend I experienced why being part of a church family matters. It had nothing to do with apologetics or condemning others or fighting over the meaning of Scripture.

It was my church's annual retreat in the mountains, a time for reflection and togetherness. The retreat was to be even more meaningful for me this year, because we were placing the ashes of my late husband in the memorial garden there.

The decision to make Kanuga his final resting place was easy. It was a place that had been special to us throughout our marriage -- in fact, we even spent part of our honeymoon in one of its cabins. We had laughed there, prayed there, made joyful music and lasting friendships. We led retreats and worship services that we wrote together. He played his fiddle to make children dance. It was, Gary once said, a place where he could be himself.

But as the time approached, I began to doubt whether that decision had been right. I began to fear that this place of such happy memories would forever be tainted by grief. That from now on the absence of Gary would be felt more intensely than the presence of God.

The decision had been made, though, so a few days before the retreat I sat down to plan the service. I pulled prayers and scriptures from several sources, then added, adapted and edited until it was the way I wanted it. And as I read the final prayer, something in me shifted.

The prayer read in part: "God of creation and renewal, we thank you for your good earth, which now cradles the body of our brother Gary. Continue to meet us here, at this holy resting place, where earth and ashes and dust mingle. Open our eyes to its beauty and our ears to the whisper of your voice on the wind. Keep Gary present in our hearts, that we may honor his memory by embracing each new day with courage and faith ..."

The prayer reminded me that the memorial garden would be a place not of remembrance only but of encounter. "Continue to meet us here," in the place where I had always found it easy to experience the divine. "Keep Gary present," not trapped in dusty memory.

It was a shift of heart that changed dread to a sense of blessing. And it happened because I chose to share this parting ritual with my church family. We could find together what I might not have found alone.

So it was with great gratitude that I welcomed about 50 people to that "holy resting place." We listened to one of Gary's students play "Amazing Grace" as he taught her to, while golden leaves spiraled to earth. We prayed and wept and read ancient words of hope and spoke of how Gary's life intersected with this place. We prayed some more, then sang enthusiastically while my son played guitar with his father's passion.

In the embrace of "organized religion," I found joy and comfort. No arguments, only love. It helped me find meaning when life's certainties fell apart.

That's the true face of faith. Too bad it's so often hidden behind a fearsome mask.

Speak for yourself, not others

2007-10-30T20:03:00.000-04:00

I've been letting the comments after the last post go on for a few days because it has been an important and interesting debate. One aspect disturbs me, though. There has been a tendency by some posters to insist that they know what other faiths or churches teach better than their own members do. I request that you respectfully allow others to define their own beliefs.

There is great diversity of thought within each faith and within each denomination. It is hard for an outsider to understand the subtleties of any church's teachings, much less how an individual believer interprets those teachings. It's easy to mock or decry a stereotype or an outdated perception.

I feel sure that these conversations will be much more pleasing to God if each of us tells what we believe rather than attacking what we assume to be the beliefs or practices of others. OK?

Who decides who's really Christian?

2007-10-26T18:17:00.000-04:00

It's always interesting to see where the currents of controversy carry the comments on this blog. After my last post, the debate entered the choppy waters of who can be called "Christian."

Some expressed the opinion that Catholics, or most Catholics, don't qualify.

My two cents: A Christian is someone who claims to follow Christ. Not someone who professes doctrinal purity. Not a paragon of perfection. Not a member of a particular denomination or a supporter of the right causes.

Of course Catholics are Christian! Their denomination predates the Reformation, you know, so how could only Protestants be Christian? This sort of you're-not-one-of-us hair-splitting drives me crazy -- and drives away those who might otherwise be attracted to what the Church has to offer.

Not all those who claim to follow Christ do so wholeheartedly. Very few come close to his example of compassionate inclusivity and loving concern. So yes, there are bad Christians, failed Christians, broken Christians, incomplete Christians, immature Christians, self-righteous Christians, greedy Christians, hateful Christians -- Christians who do not deserve to wear the name of Christ. There are far worse ways to smear that name than holding unorthodox beliefs.

But they are Christians nevertheless. All of them who claim to be. And the only one who has the right to say otherwise is Jesus Christ.

Can only one religion be right?

2007-10-24T10:48:00.000-04:00

d.j. wrote at 9:47 a.m. Oct. 24 that "If you want to claim that all religions believe in the same God, you must throw out the beliefs of each of those religions ... ."

But that is only true if you take every teaching of every religion as literal fact, not as human attempts to explain a reality beyond human understanding. I believe that we can see God's hand in the world and experience God's presence in our lives without subscribing to the "right" dogma. That is the point of convergence for different religions.

It is the heart, not the brain, that matters. Love of God and neighbor, not statements of theology. Awareness of the sacred, not literal creeds.

I know that many disagree. Many will say that you can't be Christian without believing that all non-Christians are damned. But that is not the grace I see and experience in Scripture and in the lives of people I know, Christian and non-Christian. God is too big to fit in my pocket.

Yes, there is a solid, true reality behind all our grasping for truth. And we're not the only ones reaching out -- throughout history, God has revealed his nature. As a Christian, I believe that the clearest revelation was the Incarnation of Jesus. But that does not in any way mean (to me) that every dogma that has grown around Christianity is true or that every other revelation of God is utterly false.

Our descriptions differ, our liturgies differ, our theologies differ. The object of our longing is the same.

Other opinions welcome (and probable).

One truth or many truths?

2007-10-22T18:49:00.000-04:00

Tuesday's Viewpoint page includes a column ("Find peace within for a nonviolent world") by the Dalai Lama, the spiritual leader of Tibetan Buddhists who was recently awarded the U.S. Congress' highest civilian honor, the Congressional Gold Medal. The exiled religious leader makes a passionate plea for freedom, peaceful resolution of conflict and what he calls "inner disarmament" -- the hard work of examining and setting aside our suspicion, hatred and hostility toward others. He then issues an intriguing challenge to all believers:

"A scientist from Chile once told me that it is inappropriate for a scientist to be attached to his particular field of study, because that would undermine his objectivity. I am a Buddhist practitioner, but if I mix up my devotion for Buddhism with an attachment to it, my mind will be biased toward it. A biased mind never sees the complete picture, and any action that results will not be in tune with reality.

"If religious practitioners can refrain from being attached to their own faith traditions, it could prevent the growth of fundamentalism. It also could enable such followers to genuinely respect faith traditions other than their own. While one can adhere to the principle of 'one truth, one religion' at the level of one’s personal faith, we should embrace at the same time the principle of 'many truths, many religions' in the context of wider society. I see no contradiction between these two."

Neither do I. A believer can be utterly convinced that the religion he follows holds the true revelation of God and yet refrain from insisting that everyone else share that view. Better still, the believer can be a devoted follower of one path but admit the possibility that God's love and grace are expansive enough to bless other paths.

At the very least, even the truest of true believers can choose to support a multicultural, multifaith society where freedom of worship is honored. Coercion and conformity lead to the worst excesses of any religion.

And surely we must acknowledge that the fullness of God is beyond human understanding.

"Today, more than ever," the Dalai Lama writes, "we need to make this fundamental recognition of the basic oneness of humanity the foundation of our perspective on the world and its challenges."

This oneness does not mean uniformity of belief. It doesn't mean beating different faiths into a bland ecumenical mush. It means recognizing our common humanity, respecting one another's beliefs and working together in love. Inner disarmament.

What do you think: Can fervent devotion and radical tolerance coexist?

Day of Grace coming to Davidson

2007-10-17T10:42:00.000-04:00

Once I was in a group that was asked who or what had made the biggest difference in our spiritual growth. Some said church. Some said parents or Sunday school teachers or ministers. My honest answer: books.

I have found spiritual companionship and intellectual stimulation in hundreds of books over the years. Many are old friends I've returned to again and again. Occasionally I've had the opportunity to meet the people who brought those books into being -- Henri Nouwen, Madeleine L'Engle, Philip Newell, Margaret Guenther, Morton Kelsey and Scott Peck, among others. It's always fascinating to be able to put a voice to the words on a printed page, to ask questions and to hear what's been stirring their souls lately.

So I was delighted to learn of an upcoming one-day retreat in Davidson by Sister Macrina Wiederkehr. Her book "A Tree Full of Angels" is one of those wise old friends.

Here is one of my favorite passages from that book:

"The reason we live life so dimly and with such divided hearts is that we have never really learned how to be present with quality to God, to self, to others, to experiences and events, to all created things. We have never learned to gather up the crumbs of whatever appears in our path at every moment. We meet all of these lovely gifts only half there. Presence is what we are all starving for. Real presence! We are too busy to be present, too blind to see the nourishment and salvation in the crumbs of life, the experiences of each moment. Yet the secret of daily life is this: There are no leftovers!

"There is nothing -- no thing, no person, no experience, no thought, no joy or pain -- that cannot be harvested and used for nourishment on our journey to God."

The contemplative retreat, "A Day of Grace," will be held Saturday, Nov. 10, 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. at the Congregation House of Davidson College Presbyterian Church. Joining that church in sponsoring the ecumenical event are Davidson United Methodist Church and St. Alban's Episcopal Church. The registration deadline is Nov. 1, and forms can be found here.

If you want to learn how to live reflectively -- or be reminded of its value -- this could be a day well spent.

Have books played a part in your spiritual journey?

Mysticism and the brain

2007-10-11T16:49:00.000-04:00

Thanks, Itzok, for bringing that Oct. 3 article in Scientific American to our attention. I certainly see nothing in it that precludes religious belief, but then, I don't believe that faith can ever be undermined by science. It makes sense to me that if we are spiritual beings, our bodies would have a biological means of having spiritual experiences.

Think about it. We perceive visually with our eyes, which send information to specific parts of our brain, but that doesn't mean that what we see is nonexistent. The biological function serves reality, rather than creating illusion.

As the article concluded:

"Moreover, no matter what neural correlates scientists may find, the results cannot prove or disprove the existence of God. Although atheists might argue that finding spirituality in the brain implies that religion is nothing more than divine delusion, the nuns were thrilled by their brain scans for precisely the opposite reason: they seemed to provide confirmation of God’s interactions with them. After all, finding a cerebral source for spiritual experiences could serve equally well to identify the medium through which God reaches out to humanity. Thus, the nuns’ forays into the tubular brain scanner did not undermine their faith. On the contrary, the science gave them an even greater reason to believe."

I said yesterday that I would be more specific about my own experiences, so I'll briefly relate my first conscious encounter with the sacred.

I was young, 3 or possibly 4 years old, and enjoying my swingset on a perfect summer day. As the swing rose and fell, I felt as if I were flying. Happily looking up into the treetops, I saw golden light pouring through bright green leaves.

What happened next is impossible even now to adequately describe. It was as if a curtain had been pulled away. As if I were suddenly in the presence of something -- no, Someone -- far greater than anything or anyone I had ever known. I felt a strange unity with all that is and all that was and all that will be. There was a sense that all was perfect, all was well. That I was just a tiny speck in a vast universe ... but infinitely loved.

Then my mother called me to come inside for my nap. And I clearly remember standing there, frustrated -- wanting to tell her what I saw but not having the words or the concepts to describe it. It was years later, after similar experiences, that I named it an encounter with God. Perhaps you choose to see it as a random firing of neurons.

At the time, I only knew it was awesome.

Whatever it is called, the experience shaped my life, giving me confidence to explore the mysteries of faith and a bedrock trust in the ultimate goodness of God.

The experience that unites

2007-10-10T13:53:00.000-04:00

Pardon the interference, but I am going to respectfully request that the debate over belief vs. atheism -- and its accompanying issue of biblical authority -- be put aside for now. Not only is the argument becoming repetitive, overheated and personal, but it is not what I intend the focus of this blog to be.

As the description at the right states, I hope this will be a place where people of differing beliefs can peacefully discuss their experiences of the sacred. That won't happen if the entire conversation centers on whether any belief is ignorant or foolish.

I feel sure we'll get back to battles of intellect and dogma at some point, but for now I'd like to delve into matters of heart and spirit. Because while creeds divide us, experiences of the divine unite us. That's why the mystics in every religion describe remarkably similar experiences, even as their theologians insist there is no common ground.

The common ground is God's presence.

I have encountered this powerful, loving Other at unexpected times, in unexpected places. In prayerful solitude and in noisy crowds. In corporate worship and on the back steps of my home. On a moonlit beach and elbow-deep in dishwater. Holding an infant and standing in a pulpit. Singing with a hundred other voices and chanting softly in an empty sanctuary.

I'll be more specific in my next post. But what about you? Have you felt this presence? What were the circumstances? Has the experience changed you?

Can intelligence and faith coexist?

2007-10-08T16:55:00.000-04:00

James Martin -- a Jesuit priest, not the former North Carolina governor -- writes in the International Herald Tribune that you don't have to choose between being intelligent and being religious.

"The heart of the atheist argument over the irrationality of religion," he writes, "is that it is foolish to believe in something that cannot be proven." His response: "Why should we believe that anything our reason cannot grasp does not exist?"

Exactly.

My reason fails to grasp many things, from quantum physics to how a teenager's brain works. The world is not always a rational place, and thank God for that. The irrational, the paradoxes, the surprises that require a leap of faith -- these are all things that give life its vibrancy and meaning.

Yes, intellect matters. Logic matters. I've never trusted any house of worship that required its members to leave their brains at home. But the beginning of faith is the acknowledgement that there is more to the universe than mere reason can comprehend.

That's not foolishness, it's humility.

Just as I am ... but you need work

2007-10-03T16:24:00.000-04:00

OK, I'm still trying to figure out how a post about skipping church turned into a battle over the Ten Commandments. Don't think I'm ignoring you, Iztok and d.j. -- I will eventually comment on the concept of biblical inerrancy. All I'll say for now is that I disagree with both of you, although I very much appreciate what you add to the discussion.

Instead, I'd like to respond to another comment made after the last post. Rebecca wrote, "Church is like every other venue in Charlotte -- just another place for me to feel 'less than.' I will never be pretty, rich or connected. ... Don't say try another church -- they are all the same." I have no doubt that Rebecca has indeed experienced church as a place that values only those who are "pretty, rich or connected." And frankly, it infuriates me that some people want to turn what should be a haven for the broken into an exclusive social club.

Years ago, in another city, I was looking for a church to visit and chose one that was the same denomination as the church I grew up in. Dressed up in my Sunday best, I took a seat in the last pew beside a young woman in jeans and a T-shirt. I didn't think twice about her outfit, but the woman on her other side leaned over during the altar call and hissed at her, "If you ever come to this church again, be sure you dress appropriately!" The visitor looked stunned, and left in tears before the end of the hymn.

Irony alert: The hymn was "Just As I Am."

I slipped out to follow her, to tell her we weren't all like that, but she drove off before I caught up to her. I feel certain she never went back; I sure didn't. And she probably never set foot in a church again, no matter what had drawn her there that morning. Why subject herself to such disdain? I only kept looking for a church because I had experienced what it could be, what it should be.

Different Christians will have different visions of what makes a church feel like home. Some love formal liturgy, some love exuberant movement, some love analytical sermons, some love touching stories. There's room for great diversity in worship, in style, in music and, yes, in theology.

But some things are never right. A church that can't welcome the unlovely or the poor or the outcast or the visitor in blue jeans might as well lock its doors. It sure isn't following the example of Jesus.

Feel free to disagree. Or to discuss the Ten Commandments if you wish. No dress code here.

Confessions of a church skipper

2007-09-30T16:04:00.000-04:00

I skipped church today.

I had no real excuse, other than weariness brought on by staying up too late and waking too early. A friend jokingly calls this worshipping in the Church of the Holy Comforter -- nestled under sheet, comforter and cats, relaxing into a new week.

When I was a child and teenager, this would have been unthinkable -- my parents saw to that. Through much of my 20s, it would have been unremarkable -- who went to church, anyway? But for many years now, my Sunday mornings have been set aside for participation in the corporate rituals of faith.

I have heard many people say that you don't have to be in a church or synagogue or mosque to commune with God, and to a certain extent that is true. God knows, organized religion has problems, from power struggles to tedium to elitism. How much easier it can be to sense the divine presence in the beauty of a day like this -- the clear blue sky, the gentle wind, the hawk's cry!

But I found in my years of sleeping in on Sundays that no amount of nature walks and solitary prayer and theological reading could take the place of being part of a community of faith.

So it is not habit but choice that makes me set the alarm on Saturday night. It's knowing that being exposed to other believers challenges my preconceptions and inspires me to put faith into action. It's knowing that I am a part of something bigger than my selfish concerns. It's knowing that together we can do more for the common good. It's knowing that even when I am too tired or too wounded or too despairing to show up, the prayer goes on ... and I am carried with it.

That is why, even though I enjoyed my lazy morning, I will return to the community that nourishes my faith.

Why do you attend or avoid religious services? What is their value to you? Does membership in a religious institution help or hinder your search for God?

Can churches be models of diversity?

2007-09-27T12:26:00.000-04:00

The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. called churches "the most segregated major institution in America." In a Q&A session after a speech at Western Michigan University in 1963, he said:

"The first way that the church can repent, the first way that it can move out into the arena of social reform is to remove the yoke of segregation from its own body. ... I think that the opportunity of the future is to really go out and to transform American society, and where else is there a better place than in the institution that should serve as the moral guardian of the community. The institution that should preach brotherhood and make it a reality within its own body."

Churches are still largely segregated, at least in part because people feel more comfortable worshipping with those most like them -- alike not only in skin color but in class, culture, musical taste and theological outlook. It's understandable but unfortunate, since it robs us of the riches we can find in other outlooks and other forms of worship.

The New York Times reported recently on a church that was confronted with the strangeness of "others" but, instead of locking them out or running away, welcomed them and was transformed. An influx of refugees to Clarkston, Ga., in the past decade resulted in between a third and a half of the residents being foreign-born. Many long-time residents fled, and Clarkston Baptist Church faced a crisis as its membership fell from 600 to 100.

At first the church leased space to Filipinos, Vietnamese and Africans for their own services. Then the groups were invited to merge into the church, renamed Clarkston International Bible Church. Becoming a multiethnic house of worship has required compromise from everyone, but the result is this: The church is thriving.

Those who still think of evangelical churches as hotbeds of bigotry might be surprised to learn that they are, instead, on the leading edge of ethnic mixing. A recent study by Harvard political scientist Robert Putnam found that "In many large evangelical congregations, the participants constituted the largest thoroughly integrated gatherings we have ever witnessed."

They do this for the simple reason that they believe it is what the Bible tells them God wants. Faith overcomes fear of change, and fear of the "other." As Clarkston's pastor, the Rev. Phil Kitchin says, “Jesus said heaven is a place for people of all nations. So if you don’t like Clarkston, you won’t like heaven.”

King called on the church to "preach brotherhood and make it a reality within its own body." Here's a church that is doing both. Is yours?

Monks vs. the generals

2007-09-25T11:51:00.000-04:00

Tens of thousands of Buddhist monks and their supporters have taken to the streets in Myanmar to protest that country's military government. For days they have peacefully marched in defiance of government orders to stay out of politics -- orders backed by the threatening presence of troops in full battle gear.

According to the Associated Press, "At first the robed monks simply chanted and prayed. But as the public joined the march, the demonstrators demanded dialogue between the government and opposition parties, freedom for political prisoners, as well as adequate food, shelter and clothing."

Even in this country, which has a tradition of separation of church and state, religious leaders have sometimes felt compelled to lead a political movement. Martin Luther King Jr. obviously comes to mind. Using the language and worldview of Christianity, he called on this nation to live up to its own ideals of equality and liberty.

But he, like the Myanmar monks, wasn't proposing a theocracy, where religious leaders hold the power and enforce their own standard of conduct and belief on all citizens. In both cases, they used nonviolent protest to stand for the oppressed and to call for true democracy.

That, I think, is the proper role of religion in politics: to speak up for the powerless and to call the powerful to account.

What is your view?

Empty belly, grateful heart

2007-09-23T21:25:00.000-04:00

On Saturday I fasted, as promised, joining in prayer with the world's Muslim observers of Ramadan and Jewish observers of Yom Kippur. It was not as difficult as I thought it would be, but there was a good reason why.

By lucky coincidence, my teenage son -- who requires more-or-less constant feeding -- was with friends all day. And since it was Saturday, I had no need to be any of the places where I might be tempted to eat. I could stay at home, away from the kitchen. There was no need to summon the will power to turn down treats at the office or invitations to lunch.

The few times I felt hungry, it was less like a ravenous craving than a gnawing emptiness. Mostly I forgot food altogether, which made me wonder how much I eat out of habit rather than need.

I thought often of the many people who feel this hunger every day, and not by choice. It's all too easy to forget the desperation of the poor when your own belly is full.

And when I finally broke my fast, the food seemed different to me: like a feast rather than an ordinary meal, like a symphony rather than the background noise of everyday life, like a brightly wrapped gift rather than a simple bowl of Shredded Wheat.

Indeed, what I felt throughout the day was not deprivation, but gratitude and compassion.

Has that been your experience? Have you ever fasted for religious reasons? What was it like for you?

Taking God to court

2007-09-21T09:45:00.000-04:00

Nebraska state Sen. Ernie Chambers, trying to make a point about frivolous lawsuits, filed suit against God last week. He accuses the Almighty of making threats, inspiring fear and causing death and destruction.

Now doesn't this open a divine can of worms.

If we could successfully sue God for everything that exists or happens that we think is a mistake, the list could go way beyond war and natural disaster. Take mosquitos (please). Couldn't a less annoying and disease-carrying insect have filled that ecological niche? I demand recompense for every torturous bite!

It has become painfully clear to me that the universe fails to precisely suit my wants. It doesn't cater to my comfort, either physically or emotionally. I don't like it, for example, that my beloved cats instinctively want to slaughter lovely birds instead of, say, grazing on the overgrown bushes. I don't understand why other people are so selfish, putting their needs above mine. If I were God ...

Ah yes. That's the point, isn't it? We don't really want compensation or an apology. We want to be in charge. Regime change. Surely we would do a better job of it. Doesn't human history testify to our wisdom and restraint and ability to make the right choices?

Right.

Case closed.

Life in the fasting lane

2007-09-19T17:52:00.000-04:00

This Saturday, if you listen closely, you might hear the rumble of more than one empty belly. Honor that rumble; it is a sign of devotion.

Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement that concludes the High Holy Days, begins at sundown on Friday. Observant Jews will fast from then until nightfall on Saturday. In prayers and worship, they confess their sins and are reconciled to God.

This year they will be joining the ongoing fast of Muslims, who are observing the month of Ramadan, a time for worship, reflection and good deeds. During Ramadan, which began this year on Sept. 13 (coincidentally, the Jewish holiday of Rosh Hashana), Islam's faithful fast during the day, breaking their fast with a meal and visits with family and friends after sundown.

Deliberate hunger -- taken on as a means to grow closer to God rather than as a way to drop a few pounds -- is a radical choice these days. Self-denial goes against everything our consumer culture advocates. Care to supersize that order?

So I wonder if, when their bellies are rumbling together, Jews and Muslims might give a thought to what they have in common that day -- a desire to please God more than satisfy themselves.

I plan to join their fast on Saturday. And as I do, I will pray that our shared emptiness will remind all of us, whatever our creed, of our utter dependence on God for what truly nourishes us.

Care to join us?

Why do the faithful rage?

2007-09-18T17:15:00.000-04:00

When I was growing up in Georgia, a religious group ran a regular ad in the newspaper with the headline "Why Do the Heathen Rage?" The phrase begins Psalm 2 in the King James Version of the Bible (later translations usually use "nations" rather than "heathen"), and the psalmist's answer is that nonbelievers rage because they do not serve God. The ad seemed intended to provoke fear and trembling, but it usually made me laugh as I pictured angry natives jumping up and down, shaking their fists in fury.

The more important question, to me, is "Why Do the Faithful Rage?" What is it about religious belief that stirs up war and persecution? Look deeply into the history of any of the major religions and you will find atrocities against those who believe differently. Extremism didn't start on 9-11, and it certainly isn't confined to Islam.

Often, quarrels that are labled religious are really political or territorial, but not all. Far too much violence is committed in the name of God. Why?

Part of the answer, of course, is that it's easy to use "God told me to do it" as an excuse for whatever you want to do, especially if you are in a position of power. But what of the sincere zealots who would fight to the death -- yours, that is -- to prove that your beliefs are wrong?

The paradox is that connection to God is so important to human beings that they are willing to violate one of God's most basic commandments -- Thou shalt not kill -- if they fear that connection is in danger.

It's the very power and potential of religion that leads to its worst distortions.

CNN.com has an interesting interview with Madeleine Albright, former secretary of state and the author of "The Mighty and the Almighty," on the influence of religion on world affairs. I thought this quote speaks to the same point:

"I found the first time I went to Jerusalem, my initial reaction was, people are arguing over all this all the time, it made me think, well, there can’t be a God, why would God put up with this? And then I had the total opposite reaction. One that stays with me, which is that there are so many holy places and symbols there, and all anybody talks about is their relationship to those symbols and to God, and therefore the power of God must be so strong there. I just think that it would be much better if people could figure out ... how to agree about it."

Amen to that. Is it possible to agree that everyone's relationship to God is important, even if those relationships take very different forms? What can religions and their followers do to make that happen?