Some "Folk" Music that Touched Me

Last night, I was searching in the iTunes music database when I stumbled across one of the most moving and majestic songs I’ve heard in quite a while. It is a song written and performed by Joni Mitchell called “Woodstock” from her 1970 album, Ladies of the Canyon. As the story goes, Mitchell wrote the song based on the reflections that her friends shared with her after attending the 1969 Woodstock Festival that took place in Bethel, New York on the land of dairy farmer, Max Yasgur. Mitchell was advised by her manager to not attend the event and wrote this song partially out of regret.

Mitchell’s first verse describes an imaginary (and symbolic) encounter and conversation between two travelers on a road towards Woodstock who happen to share a mutual search for a sense of identity, the meaning of life, and freedom for their souls.

I came upon a child of God
He was walking along the road
And I asked him where are you going
And this he told me...

I'm going on down to Yasgur's farm
I'm going to join in a rock 'n' roll band
I'm going to camp out on the land
I'm going to try an' get my soul free...

From the first arresting lyric (“I came upon a child of God…”)- a line which alone could inspire an essay plunging the depths of its theology and conviction- I was ushered into the essence of the song by Mitchell’s shrill voice and the muted notes of her keyboard (the song’s only instrumental accompaniment).

She then proceeds to a chorus that strikes an awesome balance between mind-blowing scientific discovery (“We are stardust...billion year old carbon”) and heart-stirring religious metaphor that alludes to the Hebrew Bible’s myth of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. *

We are stardust
We are golden
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden…

...We are stardust (Billion year old carbon)
We are golden (Caught in the devil's bargain)
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

This chorus resonated with me mainly because it explored some heavy ideas that I studied recently in a colloquium course on the relationship between religion, theology, spirituality and science. Never before have I seen such ideas articulated in song.

In the second verse, Mitchell responds to the answer of the first traveler by voicing the concerns of the second traveler, who admits to feeling like “a cog” in a industrial society marked by pollution and consumption (a society very much like our own).

Then can I walk beside you
I have come here to lose the smog
And I feel to be a cog
in something turning

Well maybe it is just the time of year
Or maybe it's the time of man
I don't know who I am
But you know life is for learning

Mitchell continues with her third and final verse, which uses colorful language to describe a transformative vision of a peaceful society.

By the time we got to Woodstock
We were half a million strong
And everywhere there was song
and celebration

And I dreamed I saw the bombers
Riding shotgun in the sky
And they were turning into butterflies
Above our nation

I experience chills every time the notes of Mitchell’s keyboard follow her voice to a higher octave as she sings the word “butterflies” in this verse. Her lyric of “the bombers…turning into butterflies” also struck me as a beautiful and inspiring vision that finds an interesting parallel alongside the 8th century Hebrew poet/prophet Isaiah’s vision of a day when the nations “will hammer their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks”; a day when nations “will not lift up sword” or “learn war” any more (Isaiah 2:15).

Overall, I was highly impressed with Mitchell’s spell-binding artistry. Throughout the song, her emotive lyrical content was animated and enhanced by her amazing vocal control, expansive range, and instrumental simplicity. Such minimalism enabled me to fully appreciate her ability to hit and hold those high notes that sent her poetic words into flight and then landed them gracefully in a lower range.

Being a visual artist/musician/poet/writer myself, I have found it challenging to write lyrics that articulate and pay homage to the tension that exists between doubt, discovery, fear, and hope; but Mitchell steps up to the challenge and succeeds. Mitchell's “Woodstock” is a majestic protest song that incorporates scientific and religious insight, nostalgia, social commentary, and the hope of a visionary.

This song led me to read more about Joni. In doing so, I found a resonance with who Joni Mitchell is. She is described by herself and by others as being an insightful, creative, friendly and somewhat introverted renaissance person who is able to function simultaneously as a visual artist (her professed first love), a musician and a poet in an age when many would pressure such individuals to focus on one outlet of creative expression and to discard the others.

Ultimately, I was inspired by Joni. I hope my creative works can embody and express my tensions, ideas, emotions and convictions as beautifully and as effectively as Joni does in this song.

Apparently, I’m not the only one who is impressed with Joni. Some of her admirers made a really good-looking and user-friendly site about her at http://www.jonimitchell.com/. The site features her biography, lyrics, interviews and an online gallery of her 256 paintings (paintings that she doesn't sell and rarely showcases).
___________________

* NOTE: Being a theology student, I have to point out that while the Eden story in the third chapter of the Hebrew Bible’s Book of Genesis mentions a serpent it never mentions or identifies this serpent as being either “the devil” or "the satan (the accuser)"

QUOTE: Ernest Renan on Jesus' contribution to religion

"Never has any one been less a priest than Jesus, never a greater enemy of forms, which stifle religion under the pretext of protecting it. By this we are all his disciples and his successors; by this he has laid the eternal foundation-stone of true religion; and if religion is essential to humanity, he has by this deserved the Divine rank the world has accorded to him. An absolutely new idea, the idea of a worship founded on purity of heart, and on human brotherhood, through him entered into the world -- an idea so elevated that the Christian Church ought to make it its distinguishing feature, but an idea which, in our days, only few minds are capable of embodying."

- Ernest Renan (1823-1892), 19th century French philosopher and writer, taken from the fifth chapter of his 1863 book, The Life of Jesus (Vie de Jesus)

I'm a weak evangelist trying to be a better human

The idea of a personal, loving, intervening, responsive, and self-revealing God has never seemed farther for me than it is right now. It is becoming less and less-convincing for me.

Over the past few years, Christianity (as is often preached) has become almost impossible for me to believe. I can understand why the Gospel (as commonly preached) is so hard for many to believe in nowadays. Here, I paraphrase the 19th century European historian/philosopher Renan who once noted the irony that “the miracles that originally inspired belief in the gospel may eventually be the same things that keep later generations from believing.”

Likewise, it’s hard for me to take seriously the metaphysical and supernatural occurrences that seem to be so prevalent in the scriptures of the global religions yet so absent in life as we often experience it.

I would like to follow the simple, essential teachings of the human being known as Jesus of Nazareth, but not at the cost of believing incredible ideas and embracing the implications of a belief that condemns most of the earth’s inhabitants. I also don’t want a faith that is frightened, arrogant, or desperate. If anything, I am desperate for the truth and I try to be open to the many sources that it may come from (be it through science, archeology, experience, or the wisdom of another religious and ethical tradition). This makes me a weak evangelist, but I hope it makes me a better human.

A friend of mine who attends seminary with me and also maintains a blog of his own, makes a powerful point in his post "Pondering Holy Destruction". He says, "Any theology, if it is to be of any use, needs to have as a conversation partner the findings of the empirical sciences." I would also add that such a faith-if it is to be relevant- must be in constant dialogue with the complex (and often harsh) realities of human existence such as genocides, floods, stray bullets, body counts, etc.

How can we continue to pontificate and debate over metaphysical notions and otherworldly realms (that we aren’t sure even exist) while the suffering of our fellow humans (who we know exist!) takes place right outside our windows?

I appreciate honest, humble and helpful people and have found such people in a wide variety of religious traditions. However, I have less patience for those who insist on following their scriptural authorities despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. I understand their anxiety, but I no longer share it.

It seems to me that much of the world’s religious history is a testament to the power of the human imagination and the human need for meaning. The whole enterprise of belief seems to be so rooted in so much speculation that I find it difficult to imagine evangelizing to others with the claim that one’s religious tradition possesses the only, true way to understand reality. I believe that all of us ground our beliefs (and disbeliefs) in those things we want to be true about the universe.

Instead of debating and speculating about otherworldly realms, I think we should realize how interconnected all of our lives are on this earth and work to help and serve the real people we see everyday. The lyrics of John Lennon’s classic song, “Imagine” make more sense to me now than ever before.

Never forget: Ministry = Service

This morning, I was invited to sit on a panel with a handful of my fellow seminarians as part of a introductory workshop for prospective seminary students. But the panel didn’t start with me on it. I was originally invited to the event to perform one of my poems as an example of how artistic gifts can be used in both ministerial and worship settings. However, 15 minutes into the audience’s questions about why each panel member chose to attend seminary, it turns out that, one of the four original panel members had to leave early to attend another engagement. Within minutes, the moderator of the event asked me to join the panel. I complied.

The panel and I answered questions about how we balance our seminary workload with our personal life, how our families have responded to our decision to pursue advanced degrees in theology, how we incorporated our undergraduate studies with our advanced studies in unrelated fields, and how seminary has challenged us to expand our understanding of ourselves and the world.

During the panel session, one of the panelists- a female minister in the United Church of Christ- mentioned that the issues we wrestle with in seminary are really equipping us to better minister to those in our communities who struggle with their own concerns and questions. In short, we study so we can better serve others. For some reason, her words struck me like a sledge hammer. They reminded me that I am not the only person trying to make sense of these enduring questions of existence.

How could I have lost sight of this? How could I have forgotten one of my most treasured convictions: that we humans should help and serve one another? While not negating the important role that personal development, self-examination and enjoyment play in our lives, I do believe a commitment to help others is a crucial aspect of a fulfilling and meaningful existence. Therefore, I cannot become too insular in my focus. It is in serving others that we remain grounded in the realities of life. Many of the people who we will serve and serve alongside will not care anything about hermeneutics, historical criticism, Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, or Hegelian philosophy. Most of them will just want us to offer them our compassionate presence (and if they really want to flatter us, they might even ask us to share some thoughtful words).

The female panelist's words also reminded me that even though I have grown disenchanted with the traditional Christianized and clerical connotations of the over-used term “ministry,” I cannot forget that “ministry” is only a religious word that means “service.” Anybody can serve. You don’t have to be ordained, educated or “anointed” by a Supreme Being to serve. You only need to have an awareness of the needs and feelings of others. I hope that keeping this in mind will help to nuance the focus of my scholarship and the questions in my soul.

Breadcrumbs

Like the age-old bedtime story of Hansel and Gretel, I set out from home to explore and find a new way of understanding the world around me with the full intention of returning back to where I started with new insight. But I have since lost track of (and lost trust in) those “breadcrumbs” that originally marked my path. In other words, I am far from where I started. Comparing my earlier convictions to my views now, I probably wouldn’t recognize myself and would likely have opposed the person I've become.

Realizing this, I have no doubt that my friends and loved ones would mourn if I actually engaged in an honest and transparent theological and philosophical discussion with them, showing them that- in many ways- I am no longer the same person they once knew. I still retain a fear that such unbridled honesty would wreak havoc on those relationships; so, instead of giving full disclosure to them, I triangulate my deepest thoughts here on this blog- before a crowd that I cannot see; before an audience that may never respond. Writing here helps my sanity by giving me a safe-space to clarify my thoughts, but it also widens the distance between myself and those who are closest to me; those with whom I am afraid to share these thoughts.

They would likely mourn my departure from being a confident and apologetic believer and weep at my development into the hopeful, open-minded, skeptical and somewhat cynical man I am now. If they only knew how far I have come, I imagine my friends and family members would be concerned for my spiritual health and would want to know how I arrived at this stage of my journey.

As a matter of fact, I recall one friend’s inquiry when I shared with him one of my seminary essays that partially explained my view of the Bible’s authority in light of the latest scientific, historical and archeological evidence. He asked me, “So exactly when did you start to question the Bible’s authority and inerrancy?” I gave an answer about how, in my pre-seminary days, I began to find it increasingly difficult to reconcile the Bible's creation stories with modern scientific theories. I also told him how I noticed many passages in the New Testament contained conflicting understandings of Jesus' identity, essence and message. I answered quickly, but when I took time to reflect on the conversation, I realized that my start on this path had a variety of causes.

Many factors contributed to the adventure I have chosen for myself, including my life experiences, my personality, my art, my family, my schools, my friendships, my jobs, my relationships with others, my interests, my fears, my hopes, my influences, and my mistakes all played their parts in this epic of my life. Knowing this, I believe that even if someone else could read what I’ve read, experience what I’ve experienced, and walk where I’ve walked, they would probably come out with a different adventure- perhaps even a contrasting path to my own.

I imagine my friends and family would ask me what motivated me to stay on this course and what did I find on this path that disenchanted me from my former way of living? What kind of “breadcrumbs” could I leave to escort them from my former line of thinking to my current one?

To be honest, I wouldn’t know where to start at explaining my journey thus far. I wouldn't recommend it for everyone- I would only suggest it for those who invite such experiences. It has been a rapidly moving process and I have arrived here after long hours and dark nights of mental and psychological struggle. But I do know that once I opened myself up to raising critical questions about my former beliefs, the doubt and skepticism began to pour forth unremittingly (I recall that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. had a similar experience when he began his religious studies in college). While this path is difficult, I still feel a sense of purpose. I have hope that something life-giving will emerge from this time of exploration and restructuring.

I originally began this task in order to discover what was really “essential” to the Christian faith. I wanted to use the machete of rational inquiry to clear the foliage of superstition from my world view in order to expose the hard truths about reality that I felt were so necessary to my understanding of the universe and my place in it. I believed that truth should be able to withstand rational inquiry. I thought that if the Christian religion was worth anything, its claims should be able to hold their own in dialogue with life's harshest realities and most daunting complexities.

At the time, some things I was taught as being crucial to the Christian faith didn’t sit well with me (not saying wisdom has to sit well in order to be true) and I wanted to pursue my suspicions and see if I had a case worth investigating. I had always been interested in the perspectives of other cultures, I had always felt I could learn from anyone, and I had also noticed that science and religion seemed to tell different stories about the world around us and within us. So I entered seminary to explore those aspects of my faith and the way religion has been understood and lived throughout history.

Years ago, I used to have some of the questions I am now pursuing in seminary, but once I became active in church life I began to stifle, suppress and protect myself from those questions and any triggers that would evoke suspicion towards my trusted authorities. If life presented a complexity beyond my understanding, I would default to my faith and my commitment to the idea of the Bible being an absolute authority for any and all questions.

But I didn’t like what I was becoming. I felt I was becoming close-minded, unloving and rigidly dogmatic. I felt trapped in a dualistic view of the world that simplified life into categories of "us" and "them," good and evil, "saved" and damned. I also felt that the Christianity I was being taught was too insular and otherworldly in its focus, too convinced of its claims, and too reactive in its involvement with the non-Christian world. I felt like this form of Christianity was ignoring a worthwhile world that existed outside of its stained-glass windows.

I wanted to know more about the interconnected world out there full of broken people, good intentions, corruption, common ground, mystery, exploitation, horrific cruelty, ecstasy, tragedy, humility, destruction, and profound wisdom. I knew there was an entire universe of experience waiting to be met with awe, wonder, compassion, service, grace and honesty.

This yearning to connect with ultimate reality continues to drive my scholarship. I am still committed to the pursuit of truth and understanding with the conviction that I must endure this stage of destruction in order to arrive at a place where I can function with the freedom to serve and live fully on the Earth.

May these words serve as the “breadcrumbs” for those who come looking for who I really am. May they also feed, if only for a moment, those continuing on the path to discovering who they really are.

Where My Search Leaves Me...

I am torn between my integrity and my commitment to my church. What do you do when you no longer convinced of a majority of your community's core beliefs? I try to hang in there for the people's sake- for the sake of practicing love and being accountable to others in community- but lately I've been feeling like I'm at a standstill. I don't want to disturb ideas about "God" or "ultimate reality" that others find meaningful but I also don't want to be restrained from seeking answers to my personal questions and exploring other perspectives about "truth." I struggle with this because I can't imagine evangelizing and going forth preaching certain doctrines as necessary if I am not convinced of them myself. So how does a skeptical seeker function in an church where evangelism is central? How does a skeptical seeker evangelize? Then again, maybe we don't have to. Perhaps there is more to the "good news" than doctrine and dogma. Perhaps, "the way" is about living fuller lives on the Earth as humans who think deep and love hard.

Is Atonement Even Necessary?

The doctrine of the atonement has become a major issue of investigation for me as an artist/writer pursuing my Master’s in Theological Studies. It is major because so much Christian theology seems to hinge on it. At its core, the doctrine of the atonement is the belief that “Jesus died for the sins of the world.”

Popular notions advance the idea that God pre-planned Jesus’ death on the cross to serve as a satisfaction for the “sin debt” of the world- a debt brought about by the original sin of Adam and Eve as written in the Book of Genesis. Theologians throughout history have developed myriad ways of explaining the significance of this doctrine in Christian theology.

My skepticism towards this doctrine has really made me sensitive to how much it has been incorporated into the liturgies of the church and chapel I regularly attend. The hymns are full of references to this bloody transaction and it is deeply ingrained into the language of the communion ceremony.

Honestly, I find the whole notion and necessity of atonement for the sins of the world hard to believe. But I also realize that many people committed to "the Jesus path" consider it to be "good news." For many Christians today and in centuries past, it has served as a meaningful, powerful and life-changing idea. For some, it has been the sole reason they have committed their lives to the Christian faith in the first place. But I have found a few reasons to remain skeptical.

Drawing from the literary clues I find in the first three chapters of the Book of Genesis and evolutionary theory’s insights regarding the origins of biological life, I conclude that the creation stories of Genesis are myths that reflect the values and concerns of the ancient Hebrew authors- not actual history. Therefore, I see no reason why there would be any need to atone for sins committed by mythological characters.

I also find very little in my readings of the synoptic Gospels that even hints towards the idea of atonement being taught "from Jesus' mouth." I have only found one verse in Mark quoting Jesus as saying that "the Son of Man" would serve and "give his life as a ransom for many" and a verse in Matthew 26:28 where Jesus, sitting at a private Passover dinner with his disciples, talks about his own blood being "poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins." The fact that Matthew’s gospel contains the only "last supper" account that even alludes to the idea of sins being forgiven doesn’t helps its case in my opinion.

Jesus taught a great many things that addressed a wide variety of spiritual, ethical, moral and social concerns, but I have been hard pressed to find him promoting an atonement doctrine in the parables he shared with listening crowds and in the prayer he taught his students/disciples.

In teaching "the Lord's prayer," Jesus advised his disciples to pray to God and ask for forgiveness daily. The way I see it, this doesn't seem to indicate any need for anyone to die in order for "God" to forgive them. God, as Jesus describes in the Lord's prayer, seems more approachable than the distant, holy and strict deity many of us have been taught to believe in. Plus, the idea of a God that would even require such a sacrifice strikes me as being more reflective of an ancient tribal (dare I say "superstitious") ritual where animal sacrifice was believed to appease the gods. Plus, this image of a God that requires such a sacrifice doesn't really square well with the image of God promoted by Jesus' story of the Prodigal Son.

For "atonement" to be so central to traditional Christian dogma, you would think that Jesus would have talked about it more often than he did. I suspect that many churches today base a majority of their atonement ideas on Paul's letters, other writings of the New Testament, and classic Christian theology as taught by Augustine of Hippo, Anselm of Canterbury and others.

But my scholarship and “gut feeling” lead me to believe that the doctrine of the atonement emerged mainly as an elaborate way to make sense of the senseless and tragic death of the wise and compassionate, Palestinian storyteller/prophet named Jesus of Nazareth- a human being believed by many to be a healer and viewed by his early followers as "the anointed one" (Messiah) or "the Son of God" (perhaps a title as opposed to a biological fact)- who was tortured and executed by the religious and political authorities of his day because he was perceived as a threat to their established orders.

That's my take on it (for what it's worth). I'm a student and I know I have much more to learn, but this makes sense to me.

What can I teach when my own views are changing? (Part One)

How do you raise children of faith when your own religious views are evolving? This is a question that increasingly concerns me as my two-year old daughter grows more and more cognizant of the world around her.

You never know what memories will stick with a child into adulthood. It seems to me that children are more likely to remember those things that are consistently repeated and those things that are so bizarre that they are unforgettable. Some of her friends at day care already know how to say their own prayers before they eat and before they go to bed because their parents rehearse this with them every day. Right now, all my daughter can muster is an “A-men!” that she learned that from her babysitter. She doesn’t get to see my wife and I pray at home. I sometimes hover over her as she sleeps in her dark bedroom and meditate on ways my wife and I can be wise in raising and providing for her, but she never sees that.

The thing is…I am hesitant to plant into my daughter’s mind the seeds of a faith that I don’t find convincing. I don’t want to indoctrinate her in fear, insecurity, or insufficiency. At the church we attend, committed Sunday school instructors are currently constructing lesson plans for the younger children. These are the classes that our daughter will most likely be attending in the coming years (unless we find somewhere else to go on Sunday mornings). But, knowing this, some serious questions are beginning to gnaw at me. Will I approve of what they teach her? Will she be indoctrinated with a lot of religious propaganda that will cripple her chances of becoming a compassionate, critical thinker? Will these "Sunday school" lessons end up confusing her or offending her to the point she rejects them completely when she gets older? Will she think I’m a hell-bound heretic if I tell her I don’t believe most of what they teach her?

I wonder if I should I teach her those things that shaped me when I was a child? I wasn't raised in church and I never attended a lot of Sunday school classes when I was younger, but I went to Catholic schools all through elementary. There, Second Vatican-influenced nuns taught us about the character of Jesus and his parables of the merciful Samaritan, the prodigal son, the lost sheep, and the two builders. These teachings played a major role in shaping my thinking regarding ethics, love, forgiveness, and wisdom. I still cherish those stories and they still guide me today. But we were also taught us to memorize creedal statements and the ten commandments (all of which I have either rejected or brought under serious re-examination). How can I pass along the wisdom I gleaned from Jesus' teachings without all of the confusing and incredulous doctrinal claims that often go along with them?

Ultimately, I want to know how (and if) my own spiritual and intellectual journey can help my child. What am I showing her when it comes to a life of faith and reason? As far as religion, she sees us when we go to church every week: I play bass in the church band and my wife sings in the choir. But I’d like to show her that the spiritual life is not limited to Sunday morning rituals and that the intellectual life is not incompatible with spiritual pursuits.

I know that I can and should indoctrinate my child to share and not to shove, but I wonder what I should teach her about “God”? What can I teach her about "God" when my thoughts are constantly changing? I don’t want to teach her myths when she is young only to confess them as being playful deceptions when she gets older (like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny). I don’t want to waste her time like that and dare not erode my credibility in her eyes.

I want my daughter to trust me. I also want her to be able to love people and think for herself. I also want her to be honest, humble, loving, and considerate. I want her to be wise and responsible. I want her to be grateful. I want her to do good. I want her to know how to be resourceful and to commit to finding solutions to the problems she will encounter in life.

Lately, I’ve been trying to cultivate a spirit of wonder in her by making it a priority to take her on regular walks through the woods, letting her pick leaves off of low hanging branches and letting her frolic around on the neighborhood playgrounds playing in the sand and gravel. So far, nature has been a helpful visual aid for teaching her how to identify colors and objects (I recall how often the Gospels portray Jesus teaching lessons based on what he observed in the natural world).

I've also been doing a lot of soul-searching, studying and research- restlessly seeking a way to live in this world so that I can share the truths I find most convincing with her. Perhaps all I can do is teach her by my example and answer any questions she raises with as much honesty as I believe she can handle. Hoping that she too will learn how to search and reach her own conclusions as she grows older.

QUOTE: Bill Maher criticizes religious tests for political offices

I think this is a timely quote from comedian/political satirist Bill Maher that touches on the danger of choosing presidential candidates and political leaders based on their religious beliefs instead of choosing them on the basis of their capability to do the job they are applying for. The following quote is taken from his "New Rules" segment for the Sept. 21, 2007 episode of Real Time with Bill Maher. He's brash but I think makes a very good point.

According to a recent poll, seven in ten say it's important to have a president with strong religious beliefs… But, fair is fair. So, for myself and the other 15-20% of American who the majority call "non-believers," but who I call "rationalists," here is our religious test for office: If you believe in Judgment Day, I have to seriously question your judgment; If you believe you're in a long-term relationship with an all-powerful space-daddy--who will, after you die, party with your ghost forever--you can't have my vote, even for Miss Hawaiian Tropic; I can't trust you at the levers of government because there's an electrical fire going on in your head. Maybe a president who didn't believe our soldiers were going to Heaven might be a little less willing to get them killed.

Complex characters

Earlier this summer, my supervisor at work was invited to a mandatory meeting at the last-minute and asked me to take his place escorting a French news reporter and a his photographer throughout our hospital system as they filmed a documentary on philanthropic activities in the United States. In between interviews with philanthropists, families, college faculty and hospital administrators, I talked with the reporter, Frédéric Dupuis, about French politics, religion, and entertainment. On the topic of entertainment, we discussed the types of American television shows that are most popular with the French. According to Dupuis, favorite shows among French viewers include Grey’s Anatomy, Lost and CSI: Miami (known as Experts in France).

He said that these shows were popular because they had complex characters. In other words, the French people seem to gravitate to those shows where there aren’t any clear-cut divisions between good or evil characters. They aren’t generally interested in the stories of the hero riding a white pony and the villain wearing a black mask. Instead, they are drawn to stories about everyday people facing challenging situations.

Of the shows he mentioned, we discussed the elements that most of their characters seem to share. First, each character has a “shadow-side” as well as the potential to do something redemptive. Second, each character has a past that they are not entirely proud of. Third, each character maintains complicated relationships with the other characters (who at times can be identified as allies, enemies or both).

Our discussion reminded me of the characters of the award-winning 2004 film, Crash. I remember reading something radical priest and social activist Father Richard Rohr wrote a few years ago in regards to that film. Rohr said that Crash is the type of film where the characters that you would identify as the heroes in the first half of the story later turn out to have dark sides of their own and those characters you would identify as villains early in the film later prove to have surprisingly redemptive qualities. In the end, you see all the characters as realistic depictions of complex human beings who are capable of acting in ways that are sometimes honorable and sometimes disheartening.

On a similar note, a friend of mine, who is an actress/playwright, once told me, “When you are developing a believable character you must remember that every character wants something.” I believe, as humans, we are all complex characters and we all want something. Perhaps stories of complicated characters serve to remind us of our own conflicting interests and motives. We try to live and function with a mental tension where our good intentions coexist with our selfish inclinations. I applaud the creative minds whose works of art and literature manage to reflect that complexity because it seems that many stories fail to stress just how complicated, multi-faceted and interconnected we humans really are.

I continue to fear the implications of those stories that depict the world as a perpetual Armageddon of “us” versus “them.” In this worldview, the global village becomes a dualistic fantasy world pitting the absolutely righteous versus the absolutely wicked; the civilized versus the heathen; the saved versus the lost. I consider many of these to be false dichotomies that are not based in reality. It seems that a majority of non-Americans also fear this dualistic worldview because it has so often bled over into America’s enforcement of domestic and foreign policy and is manifested in the ways we deal with new threats and strange challenges to our way of life.

I love a good story, but I also love realistic and believable characters. When characters are believable I think they are best able to model for us the inspiring lives we’d like to live and the harsh realities we’d like to avoid. These characters inspire us, inform us and warn us.

Let’s focus on telling powerful stories with realistic characters. Let’s encourage those who tell such stories. And let’s live in ways that acknowledge the complexities of our humanity and interconnectedness of our experiences.

I realized something changed within me when...

Last July, I was in Chicago on vacation with my wife. We were window shopping while walking south on Michigan Ave on a intensely hot Saturday afternoon when it happened. On the street corner before us stood a tall, middle-aged Caucasian gentleman dressed in sunglasses and armed with a smile.

Without saying a word and handed me a little blue-colored pamphlet. Before I could take my next step, I read the cover of the pamphlet. It read, “If you died today, are you sure you would go to heaven?” I’m sure there are many who would find this question helpful, but I was offended. Interestingly, the words of this classic, evangelical ice-breaker never bothered me until now. I used to believe that this was a question worth asking people, but now I find it to be an inquiry that is filled with harmful assumptions and dangerous implications.

Many Christians believe this is “the ultimate question” which leads to “the ultimate answer.” Personally, I don’t think that its answer is any of our business, nor do I think that anyone honestly knows what happens to us when breath ultimately leaves our bodies. I handed the pamphlet back to the man while offering him the softest and most polite "No, thank you” I could muster. He looked at me with silent shock as I crossed the street. It was at this moment that I realized that a monumental change had occurred within me.

I knew that I was no longer convinced by the truth claims of traditional Christianity. I knew that I was committed to finding a new way of understanding the life and way of this mysterious figure known as Jesus of Nazareth. A way that makes sense in this post-modern era marked with scientific discoveries and religious pluralism. A way that makes sense in light of the human tendency toward subjectivity, rationalization and self-delusion. A way that makes sense in the wake of forgotten myths and the ruins of the ancient civilizations that believed them to be absolutely true. A way that makes sense in the aftermath of natural disasters. A way that makes sense amidst the endless suffering of innocent people and the ceaseless acts of inhumanity. A way that makes sense to people waiting in expectant hope and crying for delayed justice. A way that makes sense in light of unanswered prayers. A way that makes sense in the shadow of a silent God.

When Humor Meets Holiness

A fellow seminary student (whom I consider a friend and whose opinion I hold in high regard) and I shared an e-mail correspondence today about religion and humor. Recently, his blog introduced me to Mr. Deity, a series of short comedy sketches that address a plethora of controversial issues and burning questions regarding Christianity- all within a four minute time span. I just watched the episodes “The Evil,” "The Messages", “The Book” and "The Really Big Favor" (which is my personal favorite). There are ten in all and I plan to finish watching the entire series this weekend. I find the series to be hilarious and witty, smart and engaging. Imagine a cross between the movie Bruce Almighty, the comedy of George Carlin and the HBO series Curb Your Enthusiasm. Personally, I think the series has tapped into a highly effective way to spark discussion and stimulate critical thought and I am glad the creators had the courage to make it.

My friend observed that people respond in interesting ways when the holy is mixed with the humorous. Some would call such attempts blasphemous. But he suggested that we need to laugh at ourselves more. I'd like to think that Jesus had a sense of humor even though we hardly ever see images of him smiling or laughing. I can imagine Jesus telling some of his stories (parables) with a stand-up comedian-like delivery saying, "Hey, did you hear the one about the..."

Our culture has seared into our imagination an indelible image of a morbid and morose Jesus. We have been raised to follow a Jesus that is always contemplative, always brooding and always dead serious. But the Gospel accounts of the New Testament reveal Jesus of Nazareth to be an expert storyteller who weaved together poetry, shock value, irony and humor. I find it hard to believe that the masses that came to hear him would have paid him any attention if he wasn’t somewhat of an engaging speaker or performer.

I also can't imagine that the people of Ancient Palestine would have ever invited the depressing fellow that our culture portrays as Jesus to one of their dinner parties (The life-draining SNL character Debbie Downer comes to mind here). The fact is, the Gospels don’t record a lot of dialogue from those dinner parties. Did Jesus and the disciples have any jokes that they shared? What did they laugh at? Did they laugh at each other? Even the most serious, sincere, and mission-minded individuals I know also happen to be some of the funniest and spontaneous practical jokesters. They have made it easy for me to believe that holiness and humor don’t have to be mutually exclusive.

Personally, I glean a lot of wisdom from modern-day comedians and socio-political satirists. Some of my personal favorites are Eddie Murphy, Chris Rock, Jon Stewart, Bill Maher, Robin Williams, Whoopi Goldberg and the Weekend Update crew on SNL. In many cases, I find them far easier to trust than a lot of popularity-driven politicians who come to interviews, press conferences and debates armed with nebulous messages and politically-correct responses to the sincere and controversial questions of the people (and religious leaders can often fall into this trap). Even though many of these comedians can come off as obscene at times, I think they often speak with far more honesty and clarity than most of us would dare to muster. I recall a line from contemporary performance poet Jamie Kilstein’s poem “FCC” which says “Truth can only be legally broadcast if it's hidden between set-ups and punch lines.” I find this to be true. Give me a brutally honest comedy sketch instead of a bland and over-promising "State of the Union" address any day.

While I acknowledge that many of these comedians also have personal biases and blind spots, I greatly appreciate their talent for pointing out those glaring contradictions and hypocrisies that the casual observer might miss. In my years of watching and studying comedy I have come to realize just how ingenious many of these humorists are. And I would dare say that we have a lot to learn from them.

Deconstructing Ourselves

I had a very meaningful talk with one of my cousins this afternoon in a locally-owned café. After being estranged for almost five years we now try to get together every other month to talk about our religious ideas, scientific discoveries, and our intellectual developments. I share with him the interesting things I’m learning in my seminary classes and he hips me to the latest controversial documentary that he thinks would cater to my interests. I can imagine those café patrons who listen in to our talks think they are eavesdropping on two heretics bent on blaspheming all that is holy. I’d like to think that, in reality, they are listening to the rants of two young men fighting hard to deconstruct and de-mythologize those theological beliefs and political ideas they now consider to be faulty and harmful.

Our recent conversations have been filled with much laughter and inquiry into the mysteries of the world and the best answers we can offer at this point in our lives. Any given discussion might cover issues related to God, government, dreams, discovery, family, faith, science, spirituality, history, or heresy. We realize that our views may change over time, but for now, we speak with passion about those truths that we find most convincing.

We talked about how often people’s religious beliefs and ethical stances take form and calcify in response to perceived and actual threats, disasters and cultural change. We would dare say that this is a consistent response of humans throughout history; a way for people to assert their identities in an environment where those identities seem to be jeopardized.

We also discussed how subjective this thing called “faith” really is. We noticed how we humans have the ability to rationalize and find meaning in whatever happens to us. We noticed how often people say “praise God” when things go well and blame “the devil” when things go wrong. But what we consider a blessing might be viewed as a curse by someone else, whether they live across the street or across the globe. In this interconnected world, the products I consume and "thank God" for might also be those products that someone else is being exploited to manufacture in order to supply my demand. Pretty ironic if you ask me.

We also noticed that when it comes to faith, we often see what we choose to see and ignore those realities that we don’t want to face. We talked about how pious believers can read a religious text and gloss over the violence that occurs on its pages (often at the hands of its heroes). We also talked about how extreme skeptics can ignore any wisdom that might also be found within those texts. We both noticed how easy it is for people on different sides of a debate to view their opponent as totally ignorant and themselves as absolutely enlightened.

In light of all this, we found it interesting that many people obsessively oppose those very things they find within themselves. This is a sobering phenomenon that calls upon each of us to do some heavy self-examination. You begin to wonder: what am I opposed to and why? What am I in support of, and why?

Knowing myself, I realize that I love to rant about what I perceive to be wrong with the world. I love to talk about what the people in power are not doing to prevent or stop the rampant dehumanization, deception, destruction and death that we see manifested in global news. Yet, I’m growing tired of talking about that. I realize how I commit many of these crimes in my own way, whether I mentally dehumanize women by looking longingly at demeaning images of them on the Internet or whether my own undisciplined consumption contributes to the death and destruction of the world’s people and resources.

My concern now is finding out what I can do about these problems. Instead of ranting about what’s wrong, I’m going to do my part to make things better.

Obsessed with Knowing

I love the work of Real Live Preacher. Real Live Preacher is a blog that was started almost five years ago by a Texas pastor who began to blog anonymously with the goal of “writing honestly and well” the feelings, thoughts and doubts that he was afraid to share with his small American Baptist congregation. In 2004, he finally revealed his identity as Gordon Atkinson, a husband, father and pastor of Covenant Baptist Church in San Antonio, TX. Atkinson's heartfelt essays have consistently challenged me and moved me. In his words, I often find my own thoughts and suspicions being articulated. That is an awesome feeling. It assures you that you are not alone.

He recently wrote an essay for The Christian Century Magazine that broke my heart…in a healthy way. In his essay, “Letting Go of the Need to Know,” Atkinson addresses the compulsion that many of us "everlasting students" have: the restless pursuit of knowledge. When I first saw the title of his essay I got scared and avoided reading it until yesterday because I was sure that it contained a convicting message that I wouldn’t be ready to accept. I was right.

Here is a portion of the essay:

“You can be a specialist or you can be a generalist. There's not enough time to be both. If you are a generalist, there will be things you will not see no matter how much you travel. If you are a specialist, there will be tiny secrets and truths that will elude you, no matter how carefully you look. That means that no matter how you approach life, you are going to have to relax and let some things go… This is why the search for knowledge cannot bear the full weight of human desire, which includes the search for wisdom, serenity and meaning in life. These spiritual pursuits call us to slow down and let go, to accept the limits of our humanity with grace and dignity. The search and desire for anything can become an unhealthy obsession unless, somewhere along the way, you learn this.”

This is a relevant message for me as tonight I will return to seminary to begin my first day of class for the fall semester. As much as I appreciate my own unique way of thinking and understanding things, I appreciate his stinging reminder that I can never know all the things I would want to know. I can easily become obsessed with a need to have all the answers. I’m 28 years old and over the past six years I have searched restlessly (like a madman) through hundreds of texts, scriptures, videos, books, blogs, papers, podcasts, audio-books, essays and encyclopedias in pursuit of a conclusive understanding of truth and reality. But the pursuit of knowledge will always and can only be an ongoing process. And even if I could take all of it in I couldn’t retain all of it.

I’m often reminded of my limited humanity when I walk into a library. Yeah, I’d love to read the entire catalogs of certain authors and to listen to the catalogues of certain musicians. But I have to make a decision and choose those few things I feel drawn to read and listen to at this moment in time (And sometimes the choice is to simply sit still without reading or listening to anything). Atkinson’s essay reminded me that it takes wisdom to know what to focus on and what to leave behind.

The point that I came away with is this: It’s OK for us to investigate, question and pursue answers to our questions, but we also need to slow down enough to live meaningful lives in the meantime.

Please take time to read his full essay.

Writing our own psalms

The psalms of the Hebrew Bible are poetic expressions of faith (and lack of faith) that have comforted, encouraged and sustained billions of faith-filled people for thousands of years. They are a collection of 150 testimonies, praises, laments, odes, and poems. If anything, they are honest. That’s what I appreciate most about them. I don’t agree with many of the Hebrew psalmist’s beliefs about God (and I don’t think that I have to) but I appreciate the fact that these ancient poets were able to articulate their thoughts in such beautiful and often brutally unfiltered forms.

I often wonder what specific situations motivated the creation of these psalms. I wonder what kind of people wrote them. I wonder how they sounded when they were originally recited and sung. It’s amazing to think that these psalms (some of which were probably written in the spur of an emotional or traumatic moment) have been preserved and are still being used over two-thousand years after they were composed.

Sometimes I imagine what a collection of modern-day psalms would look and sound like. Would we include the lyrics of the Negro spirituals and the blues? Would we include copies of the jazz riffs and notes for John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme? Would we include the lyrics of gospel or contemporary Christian praise and worship songs? Would we include the lyrics of Africa’s travelling griots? Would we include the medieval hymns of Europe, the haikus of Asia, or the mystical poetry of the Arabic people? Native American chants? Would we include song lyrics and poetry from artists and 20th century prophets such as Nikki Giovanni, Maya Angelou, Bob Dylan, Billie Holliday, Nina Simone, Joan Baez, John Lennon, Curtis Mayfield, Marvin Gaye, Zach de la Rocha, Miguel Piñero, Ben Harper, Bob Marley, Gil-Scott Heron, Oscar Brown Jr., Tracy Chapman or U2?

I would be very interested to see how such a collection might serve people two-thousand years from now. Would future generations read them in ways we wouldn’t even recognize anymore? Would future faith communities strip them of all of their authenticity and sanitize them through translation, reinterpretation and litugical use?

Many faith-filled people read the biblical Psalms with the belief that reading them will draw them closer to the heart of God. But I dare to believe that we can draw even closer to “the divine” by being honest with ourselves and writing our own psalms. Here is a psalm I wrote on the back of a piece of notebook paper while I sat alone in an empty room last Friday getting ready to give a presentation for my day job. I was tired and my mind was flooded with an intense feeling of restlessness.

I am…
Wandering. Wondering. Wavering. Wrestling.

God, if you exist, do what you do.
I won’t ask you for favors on my behalf.
I won’t demand that you act.
I won’t ask you to justify my actions or to baptize my desires.

I find it difficult to ask you to forgive me.
I just know I need to be more faithful to the people around me.

I don’t pray so you will grant my wishes.
I don’t pray that you curse those who disagree with me.
I don’t pray for your presence because, if you exist, no one can escape you anyway.

I only pray for awareness and compassion.
Awareness of who I really am.
Awareness of the creatures that I’m connected to.
Awareness of the ways in which I have brought or can bring blessing or harm to others.

Missing in Action

Allow me to explain why I haven’t blogged in a while. Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and reflecting on my next step in life. But there have also been some really good developments lately.

Career wise: I was recently asked to do some freelance writing for my seminary’s alumni magazine (Hey, it’s a start). This is actually my first paid freelance assignment and I am excited about the thought of a career in writing. So far I have written six articles for them. I’ve also been able to secure quite a bit of media exposure for my church and the ministries that I am somewhat connected to.

Family wise: My grandfather is recovering well from the stroke he had back in May. Also, next week I’ll be helping my younger brother move to Cleveland to live with our mother (who has been clean and sober for the past two years).

I would classify all the above as good things. But the creative energy of my mind has been drained by the following issues:

- Wondering how I fit in my church and in my Christian band when my future with both hinges on how we deal with the fact that my current views about God, Jesus and the Bible are quite different from the majority of members.

- Articulating a written credo to clarify my convictions for both for myself and for those closest to me.

- Wondering if I will have sufficient availability and finances to continue my seminary studies this semester.

- Wondering if the cost of my education is worth the emotional and financial tension it is causing to some of my friends and family members.

- Wondering what career I should pursue considering my interests and abilities (journalism, writing, cartooning, ministry, teaching, travelling artist, etc.)

- Figuring out a plan to move from full-time employee to full-time student by January 2008.

- Trying to balance all of my commitments while also starting back on sketching illustrations and producing artwork.

- Wrestling with the theological and philosophical questions and doubts that constantly invade my thoughts.

- The fact that I haven’t really prayed (or believed in the power of prayer) in months.

Right now, these are the things which worry and overwhelm my mind (although I know Jesus said "don't worry"). But I also can’t help but wonder how different (and pathetic) my list must look compared the burdens that others carry as they try to struggle under the threat of death, sickness, war, poverty and abuse. My concerns must seem trifling compared to theirs, but this is honestly where I am and what I am wrestling with. If my creative energies are being misdirected then I hope that I will grow to focus on issues and causes that are more worthy of my attention. Until then I press on and work with what is before me.

The Risky Path of the Truth-Seeker

I am troubled by what seems to be anti-intellectualism amongst Christians. And Scriptures like Colossians 2:8 (about not being persuaded by deceptive philosophies) are troubling for me. Why? Because my studies indicate that ancient philosophers and theologians are largely responsible for much of what is now considered a mainstream understanding of the Christian faith. Ideas about God being "omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent” are concepts and terms rooted in ancient Greek philosophy. Doctrines like “original sin” and “atonement theory” were born from philosopher/theologians like Augustine and Anselm of Canterbury. Christianity began incorporating these and other philosophies as it spread throughout surrounding cultures.

However, I find it interesting and ironic that- in our modern age- those who claim to live by "biblical principles" also make entensive use of these "philosophical" ideas which have little to no basis in the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures. To reference Colossians 2:8, I can definitely see how many of these philosophies have obscured and distorted the life and teachings of Jesus throughout the past two millenia.

It seems that many biblical literalists only want to be informed by those intellectuals, philosophers and scientists whose findings reinforce the doctrines and beliefs that they want to defend. It's like Martin Luther King, Jr. said in his essay, “Tough-Mind, Tender-Heart”:

Soft-mindedness often invades religion. This is why religion has sometimes rejected new truth with dogmatic passion. Through edicts and bulls, inquisitions and excommunications, the church has attempted to prorogue truth and place and impenetrable stone wall in the path of the truth-seeker. The historical-philological criticism of the Bible is considered by the soft-minded as blasphemous, and reason is often looked upon as the exercise of a corrupt faculty…

Yes, using reason is often seen by many Christians as “the exercise of a corrupt faculty.” But why? Many caring Christians fear that if we question too much we will threaten our faith and lose our connection with God. They fear that we will lose belief or our “spiritual foundation.” I have heard them say things like, “I just believe the Bible...I don’t question it…The Bible is always right…The biblical writers were directed by God…If anything is wrong then I must be reading it wrong.”

To the contrary, there are those who desire to follow Jesus but who cannot seem to find encouragement in their congregations to apply critical thinking to their study of the Bible and the traditional doctrines of the Christian faith. I want to follow the essential teachings of Jesus, but not at the expense of abandoning my own ability to think, discern and reason. I don’t want to be forced to accept as literal any mythological stories and abstract doctrines that have proven to be founded on some ancient person’s misunderstanding, personal agenda, or limited knowledge. I don’t want to find myself feeling threatened by scientific discoveries just because they may contradict what I think the Bible says. And I definitely don’t want to damn most of the world’s people to hell because they don’t share a specific set of doctrinal beliefs.

I struggle with the idea that God is displeased when humans think critically about their beliefs. I suspect that many beliefs branded as necessary to the Christian faith are really additions added for various reasons which include control, conquest, categorization, and conversion…not because they were originally part of Jesus’ message.

Yes, I have to be on guard as to not let pride and bitterness consume me, but I have a conviction that seeking the truth is a good thing (although many of us would disagree as to what is meant by "the truth"). I am on a mission to find out what is really essential to the Christian faith…or better yet: what is essential to seeking God and following the way of Jesus (and what is not!).

I understand the concern of church members and I agree that the path of the seeker is a risky path. But I don’t want to fear the truth or any “new truth.” I want to hear different perspectives. I listen in hopes that my ideas about God might be enlarged and enlightened (although many would probably say that I am now "blind" and in the dark). Yes, I have flirted with my own disbelief to the point that a lot of atheists and agnostics make a lot of sense. And I suspect that they will continue to make sense as long as we Christians continue to preach a message that often comes off as irrelevant, ill-founded and outdated.

Maybe I am too skeptical and maybe I have grown too suspicious, but I want to believe that God wants us to exercise discernment and reason. Where do I go from here? I don’t know. But I have faith that I am being guided towards something worthwhile. I am encouraged by the lives of those who went through similar searches for "the truth": Thomas Jefferson, Marcus Borg, Eric Elnes, Alice Walker, Karen Armstrong, Krista Tippett, Martin Luther King, Jr., Thomas Merton, Mohandas K. Gandhi, Malcolm X, James Cone, Bart Ehrman, Thomas Paine, Bishop John Shelby Spong, and Jacques Kriel...to name a few.

I realize that I might be remembered among the most foolish people in history but I also realize that I might be right where I need to be. I still think I am onto something. The scary thing is that my pursuit of truth may cost me more than I ever expected to give. I just pray my journey leaves me with a tough mind and a tender heart.

Callings & Convictions

Are we following God's calling or are we following our own convictions?

Throughout the past several years, I have heard numerous religious people make bold claims about what they believe God has “called” them to do. Throughout human history there have been countless individuals from various faith traditions who were utterly convinced that they heard a direct word from the Creator of the Universe that commanded them to perform a particular action. All of this sounds inspiring until it hits close to home and you start hearing conflicting reports between two well intentioned people who both claim that God has spoken to them.

I have grown skeptical of such claims. I now realize that humans can’t help but be somewhat subjective when it comes to interpreting an objective fact. Just because a person claims that they heard from God doesn’t mean that what they are claiming is true. This is why it is so difficult to trust people who make bold claims of divine sanction and absolute authority.

Sometimes, I think people use the phrases “God told me” and/or “God called me” as the ultimate trump cards to simultaneously silence their critics and stamp divine authority onto their viewpoints. In fact, it makes my skin crawl when I hear phrases like this. I have said similar things before and I regret having done so, but because this irritates me so, I have stopped making such claims. There are many psychological factors that influence our perception of things.

Oftentimes, I think our perceptions are determined when we see what we were already looking for, instead of seeing what is really there. Here, I recall serving on a jury last Fall when the prosecutor challenged us with a test of our observation skills. He asked us to take one minute to look around the courtroom and to memorize as many red-colored objects as we could. A minute later he asked us to close our eyes and keep them closed as we told him about all the red-colored objects we saw. We mentioned dozens of objects including the ear-rings of one juror, the slender second-hand on the courtroom clock, and the fire alarm in the back of the room. We felt secure that we were keen observers. Our eyes were still shut when he asked us if we could recall any objects that were blue. We sat in silence with our closed eyes racking our memories for images of blue objects. After an extended period of awkward silence, the prosecutor asked us to open our eyes. We were shocked at how many blue objects we failed to notice even though many of them were right in front of our faces. That exercise reinforced my belief that we often see what we want to see. We are all guilty of this.

I have been in conversations where a group of people are trying to make a controversial decision. Many of us want to make wise decisions and so we trust the counsel of those we respect. These might be our friends, our families, our elders, our favorite authors, our heroes or those who agree with us.

I have found that in some cases, people won’t trust you unless you can make a claim that God gave you the stamp of approval. Such claims of authority give power to words that would otherwise have fallen on deaf ears. You probably won’t gain much of a hearing if say, “Hello, I have some ideas and opinions I wanted to share with you based on what I’ve read and experienced.” People who use phrases like that just don’t command attention and authority like the special person who can say, “Behold, God came to me in a vision and told me to tell you this!” and end it with a “…Thus saith the Lord!”

A classmate of mine recently told me about a young lady who attended our seminary who also grew skeptical of all the “God told me” talk. During the years she was working on her Master’s of Divinity she had brief courtships with four different gentlemen who each told her that God told them to marry her. Needless to say, she didn’t marry any of them. Put off by their comments and the implications of what their comments said about the nature of God, truth, and revelation…she grew skeptical and eventually stopped believing in this kind of God altogether.

This kind of “God told me” talk, while meaningful for many, has begun to sound like madness to me. We can’t be careless with our words and I hope that I am not being careless with mine.

I have come to believe that while many of us act off of claims of having a divine calling, I believe our actions are driven by the fact we have a human conviction. We may have a conviction about what our experience has led us to believe is right or pleasing to God, but this does not mean that God called us to do anything.

I wonder if it is less of an issue of God “calling” us to do something and more of an issue that we want to do something that we believe is important. Is it really just a matter of making a commitment in response to what we perceive as the needs of the world? Some want to feed the starving masses. Others want to save souls. Others will seek to defend the oppressed. Others will seek to liberate others through education.

Is it a coincidence that those who have seen the suffering of starving children often go into a life of humanitarian aid while those who think the world is dark and fallen and in need of a savior consider “soul-saving” to be the highest priority?

I have several friends who have accepted their “call” into the pastoral ministry. They tell me that they went into the ministry because they had a heart for "lost souls." I believe that they are passionate about what they believe. These are some of the most loving guys I’ve ever met. But I can't help but wonder if they are responding to a divine calling or if they are operating out of their own convictions as to what they should commit their lives to.

Ultimately, while I still remain skeptical of the “God told me” talk, I think that people who truly believe that God communicated a particular message directly to them should instead say “I believe God told me” something. I’ve heard it said recently, “Be careful about telling people what God said, because someone might believe you.”

I look at myself and realize that, for better or for worse, I am driven mostly by my personal convictions. One of my convictions is the idea that oftentimes the callings that we really need to respond to are as simple as the voiced needs of our neighbors.

I'd rather be a good neighbor

Why are so many of us obsessed with the idea that we need to engage in constant combat with someone or something outside of ourselves? Why do so many of us only find ourselves uniting with others when we share a common enemy? Don’t we realize that this “warrior approach” only demonizes others and makes enemies out of those we are called to love and build relationships with? Have we not noticed our tendency to succumb to the tribal instincts within us that tempt us to classify unique and complex individuals into simplistic categories of “us” and “them”, enemy and ally?

Over the years I have heard many “church folk” talk excitedly about being either a prayer warrior, a soldier in the army of the Lord, or bearing the armor of God in battle with the spiritual forces of darkness. I realize that this is metaphorical language that uses military terms to communicate spiritual ideas. But I think many believers have literalized these terms and have adopted a tribal view of the world where those who are different from them are seen as enemies that need to be conquered, colonized, condemned or converted.

Over the last few weeks I finally realized two important things about myself. First off, I’m not at all interested in being a warrior. I would rather devote my energies towards being a good neighbor. I would rather live my life as someone who is humble before mystery, helpful towards others and honest with myself.

I think that is what the needs of the world call for. I don’t think anything fruitful can come from bloody battles in the name of terror and territory. If anything, I think the most important battles that we need to engage in are those psychological ones taking place in our own minds between the selfless and selfish aspects of our thoughts and actions.

Don’t get me wrong. I have seen enough to convince me that evil "walks the earth" as a real and destructive force in the world, but I don't consider it to be a cosmic being nor do I think we can vanquish it by destroying it or those who commit acts of cruelty towards others. I see evil as a manifestation of the dark sides of our own personalities and an energy that needs to be redirected into something constructive.

When I look at how modern nations seek to deal with the threat of terrorism, I notice that we spend too much energy dealing with the symptoms and not enough energy dealing with the root causes of what makes a terrorist. If they are hungry, they need bowls not bombs. If they are resentful and hurt, the last thing they need is for us to kill them or their loved ones and give them yet another justified reason to hate us. We are foolish to think that we can eliminate the threat of terrorism by becoming terrorists ourselves.

I am amazed by the fact that in our interconnected world community there are those of us who continue to believe that killing and torturing other people will make us more secure. I don’t think warriors have what it takes to vanquish terrorism. Weapons of force and intimidation are ultimately powerless when it comes to changing the human heart. Instead, I believe that our hearts of stone will only be softened by acts of compassion, empathy, hospitality, mercy and forgiveness. These are the “weapons” of the neighbor- the only weapons that can bring healing.

The second thing I realized about myself that I am more interested in having conversations than forcing conversions. The conversations I enjoy are not those that seek to manipulate and defeat others, but those which serve as opportunities to learn about others. Mind you, I think conversion (a change of mind and heart) is very often a good thing. But the decision to convert should be an individual’s free choice, not the result of manipulation or compulsion. We can’t change or control people’s minds or behaviors. We can only be ourselves and hope that in doing so we can influence others in constructive ways.

I think, in most cases, warriors and neighbors both seek to make the world a better place. But I don’t think that any good will come from efforts to dehumanize or destroy those who see life from a different perspective than we do. I guess it boils down to at least two very different ways of interacting with those we consider strangers. If we are focused on being neighbors then we will likely view strangers as new people to meet and experience. On the other hand, if we are focused on being warriors then it seems we will fear strangers as see them as threats that need to be eliminated.

I don’t believe any of us have the right to condemn or destroy anyone else. This is my conviction even though the Bible contains many different and sometimes conflicting images of God which would seem to say otherwise. But when I read the Gospel stories I find Jesus encouraging his listeners to love God and be merciful neighbors, not merciless warriors. Jesus sent his disciples (students) out into the world as vulnerable sheep amongst vicious wolves, arming themselves only with love, and commanding them to be as "wise as a serpent and as harmless as a dove" (Matthew 10:16).

"Must I write?" (A question to ask myself)

This afternoon I stopped by a local coffee house on my lunch break and ran into Casey, a local artist I regularly see around my city. He is also an entreprenuer. He talked to me about how he decided to go into business for himself in ways that could support his family (wife and two children) and fulfill what he feels is his "calling." I told him how much I admired such commitment. We talked for awhile and he told me about the times when things get tough and how one has to just push through them with faith, creativity, and determination. The conversation left me with hope and the knowledge that I had some "soul-searching" to do and some commitments to make.

Call it confirmation, but later this afternoon, I paid a visit to the website of another local artist I admire. On his website he wrote a journal entry about his recent decision to live intentionally and focus exclusively on producing music which means that he would also be forced to let go of a majority of other commitments he had picked up in recent years. In his journal entry he cited a passage from the writings of Ranier Maria Rilke that had a profound impact on his thinking during this transitional phase of his life. Rilke's words also resonated with me as I go through my own risky period of transition and growth.

Yes, quiet time is needed to figure these things out.
Yes, risks are involved in such decisions.
Yes, we must listen to that voice deep within us.
Yes, we must find an answer and build our lives around it.

Ranier Maria Rilke writes,

"This above all-ask yourself
in the stillest hour of the night: must I write?
Delve yourself for a deep answer.
And if this should be affirmative,
if you may meet this earnest question
with a strong and simple "I must,"
then build your life according to this necessity;
your life even into its most indifferent and slightest hour
must be a sign of this urge, and a testimony to it.
Then draw near to Nature.
Then try, like some first human being,
to say what you see and experience and love and lose."

POEM: "Witness"

I wrote this poem right before New Year Eve's 2007. It's one of the few poems I have written in the past few years so it contains alot of ideas that I wanted to "unpack." I've performed it a couple of times throughout my city at various coffee shops and churches. It was inspired by what I have come to see as one of the best witnesses to the world about the message of Jesus: a transformed life that is marked by compassion for those who suffer and struggle.

Behold and bear witness
to systems designed to victimize the blind.
What will it take to fix this?

Prayer, yes…
but prayer alone
is like living off air alone.

You see,
whether you’re conservative or liberal,
whether you read the Bible critical or take it literal
the hardest part is making it physical
Let the Gospel become flesh
and challenge the rulers who build their empires
with the blood of the same people they consider inferior and invisible

Pardon the interruption,
but the human heart is filled with so much corruption
we’ve got hearts of stone, even my own
I can feel that the war is on en mi corazón
Evil still sits on the throne.
No one’s good but God alone.

And that’s enough to make me suspicious.
We're like sheep sent to live with the wolves,
the vulnerable amongst the vicious
Not violent, but not silent when facing the evils of men
The dark side of imagination and free-will, the evil within
Who’s our worst enemy?
Is it really an invisible demon wearing a devilish grin,
or is it our own selfish and hard heart
willing to do whatever to win?

Look at Pharaoh
Now, who took an arrow, shot us and got us
willing to rape, kill and cheat for things we don't need
Exploiting our sisters and brothers,
selling our souls and sacrificing their lives
on the altar of greed.
Halt the stampede!
Where will this road lead?
And what kind of seed do we expect to start bloomin'
when we demonize God’s children
and treat them like they’re less than human?

When we raise our children to become mindless consumers,
mere cogs and gears, in a machine
that profits off of our insecurities, addictions and fears
Fears of each other and of the unknown
Take the cover off of this syndrome
and fight the temptation to become bitter and heartless

Lord, deliver us from the evil that haunts us
I pray that we never get too used to the darkness
or get so used to wickedness and injustice
that we eventually become their accomplice
If the Spirit of God blows where it wishes,
then I pray it breathes new life into my conscience
I'm just an artist trying my hardest
to plant my seeds of light for the harvest

Lord, make us wise as serpents,
so we can detect lies with discernment
Make us harmless as doves,
armed with Your love
On a rescue mission, fishin’ in these dark waters
on the lookout for
prodigal sons and fathers,
lost mothers and daughters
Little boys
living and dying by the weapons of violence
Little girls
believing the lie that they’re only good for their sexual talents
This world is off balance and it’s time to break silence
with a witness…that this is…

going to take a miracle
like feeding thousands
with a few loaves and fishes
when we've got people in need of housing
food, clothes and dishes
Victims with wounds so deep
that they need to be healed with more than stitches
People need hope, ya’ll…
more than four-leaf clover wishes

Because corrupt corporations and governments
aren’t run by monsters
They’re supported by everyday people, like us
just going about our everyday business
desensitized to the crimes that we witness
God forgive us,
for not asking questions
or investigating the fruits of our labor
Who does it effect?
Who does it hurt?
Who does it endanger?

God forgive us,
for being more concerned with a pay raise
and what looks good on our résumés
meanwhile we treat Your children and Your creations
like strays and throwaways
I pray for better days
Help us find a way out of this maze

where dreams can die in a child's head
because they’re malnutritious
because they’re not being fed,
hopelessness blinding their vision
where children idolize killers and criminal-minded magicians
who can take a pocket full of stones (drugs)
and turn them into bread,
then turn that bread into homes
and turn those same homes into haunted houses
where the living dead roam.

At midnight,
junkies and addicts turn into zombies and wicked witches
casting spells on themselves
and manipulating their own families to get their fixes
Imprisoned in their own personal hell,
like a prison cell
locked from the inside when the key is right in front of them
but their disease just keeps on numbing' them…
And we ask: “Jesus! What can be done for them?”
What can we do?
How can we help?

Well,
we can’t hide behind stained glass windows and white fences,
We’ve got to get in the trenches,
we can't just be critics that boo from the benches
We’ve got a choice, we can either build up walls or build bridges
Get involved or die with good intentions

Yes, we’re sinners but we don’t plan to surrender
Let’s bring the truth to the center
and tell the whole story so the people remember
A witness…that this is…not the Creator’s intent
but a witness…that this is…a call for us all to repent.

God’s Image and the gods we Imagine

I think we invent our own Gods. I say this partly because we all worship something, be it a person, a material thing, a spiritual being or an ideal of how we think life should be. The Book of Genesis says that God made man and woman in God’s image. But could it also be possible that throughout the ages these same men and women have created our own images of God? We see this happen in both the Bible and in world history. And I do it too. Most people who believe in God come up with metaphors to explain how we understand God. But it gets tricky when we start to literalize these metaphors and create worldviews out of them. To paraphrase a point made by author Karen Armstrong, this gets dangerous because we make images of God where God likes who or what we like and hates who or what we hate. If we can throw God’s name on it, then we can justify almost anything we want to do…whether it be God’s will or not.

We also see this happen with Jesus. For nearly 2,000 years many of us have created images of Jesus that fit within our personal agendas. Can’t you imagine what the toy aisles at department stores would look like if they carried the following action-figures? Collect them all. You’ve got your Camp-Counselor Jesus, your Sugar Daddy Jesus, your Prayer Warrior Jesus, your Hippie Jesus, your Beatnik Jesus, your Dreadlocked Jesus, your Blue-Eyed Jesus, your Civil Rights Jesus, your Gun-Toting Jesus, your Rock Star Jesus, your Stained Glass Jesus, your Fire & Brimstone Jesus, your Bible-Thumping Jesus (complete with his church suit), and your Hollywood Jesus (who speaks with a British accent).

Will the real Jesus please stand up? Or should I say “rise up?” And may we seek to know God and follow Jesus in the way that they are and not how we want them to be.

The simple way of Brother Herman

Two weeks ago I was in Houston, Texas, with my wife and daughter attending a Cajun cookout in honor of my wife's cousin's high school graduation. While I was socializing with people who gathered for the celebration I had a conversation with one of my uncle-in-law’s relatives- an African-American Catholic friar known as Brother Herman. Brother Herman is a minister and a professor of Spanish who lives in a monastery with other friars in New Orleans. He was among those who survived Hurricane Katrina and the flood that it brought about in New Orleans. We talked for a while about the effect of the flood on his city and his vocation as a language professor. But our longest discussion was about faith.

He told me about what drew him into ministry and I told him about the experiences that led me to enroll in seminary. We talked about the current Pope and the offense he caused in his recent visit to Latin America when he praised the Portuguese missionaries for bringing civilization to people of Latin America (In response to this, Brother Herman said, "Civilization was there before those colonial-minded missionaries ever landed on shore...and so was God"). He told me about the mystic bent Pope John Paul II took as he got older in regards to the idea that there may be other paths to God. He encouraged me in my theological studies and advised me to keep a critical eye and to engage in a respectful critique of other faiths as well as my own. I asked him about his personal prayer life and he told me how he maintains his communion with God by attending Mass, taking communion and spending time in prayer every morning. We discussed how important it is for humans to really seek an ongoing and thriving connection to God and to not allow for rituals to lose their meaning because of routine.

We then shared our understandings of ministry and evangelism. He reminded me that ministry (a word so commonly and carelessly thrown around and attached to anything church-related) is really just another word for “service” and that ministry is not limited to the roles of priests, preachers and chaplains. He noted that while many feel called to such professional roles, those are not the only opportunities for service that exist in God’s kingdom. He said that we are all ministers in the sense that we all can be of service by using our gifts and abilities to help others. To illustrate this point, he told me a personal story of how he had low self-esteem until a priest helped him discover his own gift for languages by teaching him how to speak Spanish when he was 13 years old. Young Herman went through school, got better grades and honed his language skills until he became a language professor himself. He told me that he now lives out his ministry in and out of the classroom by "treating people nice" and "showing hospitality to them."

He shared his opinion on evangelism by saying, "I don’t believe that it is our place as Catholics to make other people Catholic. I believe our mission as Catholics is to do what Catholics do...serve others." His words we so simple yet they summed up what I've been trying to articulate for quite some time now. Years ago, I used to think that having witty answers to a skeptic’s questions was the best way to convince an unbeliever that the gospel was true. Nowadays, I find myself leaning towards the belief that our most effective and faithful witness to the world might be our everyday acts of service, hospitality, compassion and kindness. This is the witness that I think truly moves people to connect with God and others. MaybeI'm going too far in making it an either/or type of situation, but I at least want to do more to incorporate the latter approach in my relationships with others.

Ultimately, my conversation with Brother Herman left me to wonder: Perhaps our goal shouldn't be to pressure others to follow Jesus, but to do what a follower of Jesus does in the Spirit by which Jesus did it. A way of life where we do good for others - not as a means of getting a heavenly reward or avoiding an eternal punishment- but because that is what we do as followers of Jesus.

I wonder: Could the gospel really be that simple? Yep. Simple enough for a child to understand it and apply it.

A Time of Separation

Right now, my Bible and I are temporarily separated. I needed some space. I still spend a lot of time thinking about the things she’s taught me and I might occasionally check on her from time to time, but we don’t spend time together like we used to. And lately I haven't felt the need to. I thought it would be best for us to become strangers so that we could get reacquainted and understand each other better. So now we are starting over without all the unrealistic expectations of each other.

Our separation was not totally unexpected. I had a feeling this would happen eventually. I just felt like there was more to her than what I wanted her to be. And I didn’t think it was fair to confine her to my unrealistic expectations.When I first met her, I wanted her to be pure, perfect, faultless, honest, and trustworthy. And in doing so I made her my idol- which is dangerous. Though they meant well, the people who introduced me to her didn’t tell me the whole story about how she came to be who she was. But, honestly, I probably couldn’t have handled the truth about her back then. I can barely handle it now.

Over a year and a half ago, I began to find out things about her that concerned me. I came across some negative rumors about her background, the things she has said, the many places she has been, and the people she has been with. I wanted to know what others had to say about her, especially those who had also had strong relationships with her in the past. I wanted to get advice from those who had been through some tough times with her and who could also see her faults. I wanted hear from those who had been betrayed by her broken promises. I wanted to know how they managed to live with her despite her shortcomings.

As it turns out, she wasn’t as pure as I was led to believe. But perhaps she didn’t need to be. We were both human. If I had flaws, why couldn’t she? I came to realize that even though she was “God-breathed” (like me) she was also human creation (like me), complete with her own limitations, prejudices, emotions, and contradictions. And if she and I were to be in a serious, long-term, committed relationship then I would have to embrace her with all of her complexities and shortcomings in order to move forward.

I used to be one of those who placed her up on a pedestal of perfection, worshipping her like a god and promising to be faithful to her above all the others who were competing for my attention. I was one of those people who couldn’t imagine spending a day without her by my side. While I respect such a romantic approach and those who use it, I knew that approach wouldn’t be enough for me. I craved a deeper relationship but I didn’t want to be naïve. I wanted to be realistic because I knew that this woman had some issues that were a little more complicated.

You see, she’s seen a lot of violence in her lifetime. She has been abused by many and some have even gotten into harsh arguments and bloody disputes over her. She’s felt the pain of being ignored because a lot of the people she has been with in the past wouldn’t let her share her story. Most of them didn’t want to hear what she had to say or take the time to understand where she’s coming from. They didn’t want to listen to her talk about the difficult topics and the unforgettable traumas. They just wanted her to be their trophy.

I don’t think we can ever go back to how it used to be. We’re too far gone. While I’ve seen many people benefit from her wisdom, I’ve also seen too many people who have been hurt because of her words. And I don’t know if I can trust everything she says without being a little critical. You see, she talks a lot about the “good news” but many of her ideas aren’t faithful to it. And no matter what she or anyone else says…she is not God. Many people are afraid to tell her when she’s wrong, but she’s human and she has made some mistakes too.

While there are things I love about her there are also some things that really disturb me. But I’m learning to accept her and to deal with her as she is and not how I want her to be. As you can see, we’re long past the honeymoon phase. Nowadays, we are facing the really complicated question that lies at the heart of a committed relationship: How do you accept each other’s shortcomings and move on?

It’s going to take time to work through all of this. When we talk now, which is rarely, she leaves me with more questions than answers. But maybe that’s OK. I may never know all of the mysteries contained within her, but I would rather struggle with who she really is than live with a false idea of who I want her to be.

Loving Imaginary People

“The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them to fit our own image.
Otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them.”
--Thomas Merton

It is so easy to love people that don’t exist. Do you know what I mean? I’m referring to those abstract, vague, submissive, glossy, harmless people that we think of when we use words like “humanity” and “humankind.” These are the people I think of when I talk about loving both my neighbor and my enemy. They don’t bother me and don’t demand anything of me. They don’t argue with me and they appreciate everything I do for them at my own convenience. These individuals embody all the ideals that we would like to be true about our fellow human beings. These are the people you have in mind when you buy gifts for others or write a check for a charity. And these types are quite easy to trust and forgive.

When I was a kid, I had two imaginary friends because they were so easy to get along with. As an adult, I excel at loving these kinds of people. These individuals are the frequent targets of my prayers, concerns and good deeds. This is mainly because they are far easier to deal with than those smelly, irritable, apathetic, offensive, bothersome, hypocritical, hyper-sensitive, and unfaithful creatures called humans.

And that’s the sad part. These people don't exist.

You see, I am an idealist and my idealism often fools me into believing that love is easy to apply. But then reality sets in and I realize that while “love” is a feather of a word it also carries a heavy demand. Real people disappoint you and are often disappointed by you. Real people hold grudges and are often the targets of our own vengeful imaginations. Real people have keen memories of your mistakes and often come down with a severe case of selective amnesia when it comes to recognizing your virtues. These real people are the ones we ignore and then turn around and get upset with when they don't support us in our time of need. As you can see, real people make for a pretty frustrating bunch of weirdos. But the thing is these real people are just…like…me. I often find those qualities that I find most irritating in others are the same irritable qualities I discover in myself. Why is that?

Here is the paradox that I struggle with constantly. I love people that don’t exist and I suck when it comes to loving the ones that do. It takes too much energy and requires a level of attention that I would rather reserve for my own interests. Real people always call when I’m involved in something else. They always have a problem they are dealing with. They always need something. You can never satisfy them. They are too clingy and needy. Why do they act so selfishly sometimes and why do they bother with me when I am so often a jerk towards them?

Spirit of God, help me to let go of imaginary people and help me to dig deep and use my energy and patience to show sincere love to real people despite their shortcomings, inconveniences, and faults.