it's the end of the world as we know it and i feel fine (it's time i had some time alone)

remember that you are dust: it's a stark and somewhat morbid thing to have said to you, let alone individually, let alone while someone's smudging ashes onto your forehead. i'm not one for fire-and-brimstone or catholic guilt or whatever else, but i like this reminder. it's simple and to the point. you were made from bits and pieces of other stuff, and that's what you're going to be later on. there's no need for ego, because we're all in the same boat. simply recongize that you are profoundly lucky (or blessed; take your pick) to have had the chance to be more than dust for a while.

we're now well beyond the holiday season, it's february, most people have come to terms with the fact that obama is actually the president (as opposed to a pop icon), we're still at war, the dollar is worth bupkis, and now it's lent.

in the past, i've always felt somewhat down during this season. it hasn't really been for any particular pious reasons, either. it's mostly that i see people around me giving up things for lent -- things they tend to really like, which results in my having to deal with a bunch of cranky peers -- and i don't. i have reasons for that, but i still feel guilty when people i know give up chocolate or facebook or whatever. most people i know who participate in that whole practice aren't especially religious; for many of them, it's more like a second coming of their nearly-abandoned new year's resolutions. and more power to them. whatever works. it's just not for me.

i went to the ash wednesday service this year for the first time in a long time, and the tone was different from what i remembered. it put the whole lent business into context in a way that made much more sense than how i usually think of it. it's almost like a spiritual spring(ish) cleaning. a month of introspection and reestablishing what's important. which, by the way, is already kind of my Thing at the moment.

there's a whole long list of things to which we all confess at this service. there's a confession each week, but this one is longer and more detailed*, and it gave me pause: what exactly is the point? of confession, and this one in particular, i mean?

if the point is to atone for these various and sundry, uh, transgressions... that's a whole lot of pressure. enough to make it unreasonable. how does one actually atone for all that? not just say some words, but really, truly atone? because we're talking about your soul here. just saying. you can't exactly fake it.

if the point is to focus on the positive side (saying "we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves" becomes "i will love my neighbor as myself"), given the number and the complexity of things we're promising to do, that's also an unreasonable expectation. it's a nice thought, but it's too far-reaching to be attainable, goal-wise. even wild ambition-wise.

how do we go about working with this long, complicated list of things that are incredibly important, but also incredibly daunting as a collective?

as i was driving over to the service, i realized we were running late and the trip became agonizing. i don't act out my road rage (i barely ever use the horn, even), i just yell a lot and say outrageous things, which generally only serves to make myself more tense. once there, we sat directly behind two kids. one was squirmy and noise-making because he didn't want to be there; the other had half his toy collection with him and kept a running commentary going throughout the entire (otherwise very quiet, sober, respectful) service, up to and including a notification that he had farted.

i haven't been to this service in a long time, and i'm a little burned out on kids from working all day, and this kid is announcing his bodily functions, and i'm thinking to myself, okay, perhaps the way to go about this is to start with working on my patience. just that one thing.

i will attempt to pace myself. i will attempt to maintain a sense of perspective. instead of specifically giving up something, i'm spending this lent just letting a lot of things go, picking my battles, and playing them out with a generally more enlightened attitude. it seems like a better way to go through the day. "do without attachment the work you have to do."

at the Taste of Judaism class last night (part 2 of 3... i don't want it to be over), the rabbi mentioned that while prayer is communication with God, its purpose is not so much just asking something of God ("give me the power to do x," "forgive me for x," "bring x into my life," etc.) as it is reflecting on your personal investment in whatever it is you're praying about. in praying about x, i am meditating on what i've done or will do about it, or what someone else has done for me. it's about interactions between people more than divine intervention.

yoga, too, fits in conveniently well: awareness of posture, motion, and breathing; slowing down and paying attention to the details. focus on the self to focus on the bigger picture.

as a bonus, ideally, being more patient will mean less neck cramps and back spasms (fun!), a decrease in the likelihood that i'll eventually have high blood pressure, less wasted time and energy, better sleep at night and better relationships with... everybody?

this is not a declaration of passivity. i'm not advocating letting people walk all over you. but it's easy to get caught up in the moment -- and, there's a growing atmosphere of entitlement and self-importance plaguing individual lives and communication all over this green earth. reminding myself daily that my wants at this moment in time are not necessarily the most important factor up for consideration is... well, at very least, it's just polite.

it's going to be a long 40 days, but that's kind of the point.

_____________________________________________________________________

* it's called the Litany of Penitence, which is exactly what it sounds like. it's when:

We confess to [God] and to one another ...

We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We have not forgiven others, as we have been forgiven ...
We have been deaf to your call to serve, as Christ served us. ...
We confess to you, Lord, all our past unfaithfulness: the pride, hypocrisy, and impatience of our lives ...
Our self-indulgent appetites and ways, and our exploitation of other people ...
Our anger at our own frustration, and our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves ...
Our intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts, and our dishonesty in daily life and work ...
Our negligence in prayer and worship, and our failure to commend the faith that is in us ...
our blindness to human need and suffering, and our indifference to injustice and cruelty ...
For all false judgments, for uncharitable thoughts toward our neighbors, and for our prejudice and contempt toward those who differ from us ...
For our waste and pollution of your creation, and our lack of concern for those who come after us.

pretty thorough list, yeah?

shabbos goy goes to shul (sort of)

several weeks ago i stumbled across this. actually, i stumbled across it in the form of an ad in the post-gazette, but an online search sent me there. "a taste of judaism" is a FREE! series of two-hour sessions, weekly, for three weeks. it's for people from a variety of backgrounds (non-practicing jews, unaffiliated people, inter-religious couples, the generally curious, etc.) who are interested in learning more (or starting to learn anything) about judaism. in pittsburgh it's being taught at a bunch of different synogogues all over town by a variety of rabbis. the one for which i registered is within walking distance, at congregation beth shalom, and it started last night.

now, i've had a bit of a week, what with being sickly and spending my days around bunches of Terrible Twos (they're not actually terrible, but they do require a lot of energy). but i've also been looking forward to this class like you would not believe. as someone who suffered from a severe childhood case of Lone Neighborhood Gentile Syndrome, i was psyched to actually learn something about modern-day jewish practice (ancient israel is fascinating and all, but i'm inexcusably low on actual knowledge about the daily workings of judaism). suffice it to say, class #1 did not disappoint.

the mix of people is great, though i won't get into that here, as it would be something of a betrayal of trust. there are lots of question-askers, which i enjoy, because i generally am not one -- not because i'm uninterested; i just have difficulty thinking of questions to ask. (i'm not good with small-talk for similar reasons: i like thinking my thoughts all the way through, rearranging them, rephrasing them, ad infinitum... good for writing, but not so much in the moment.)

apparently the first class focuses on spirituality (the nature of God), the second on ethics (Torah, law, what God expects of us) and the third on community (israel, the jewish people). i feel pretty good about my footing in most of the source material, so i'm free to focus on the details and terminology and whatnot, and learn much more about midrash, which is difficult to do on one's own. also, my yiddish vocabulary is growing. watch out.

the whole overarching concept of struggling with God, of challenging and questioning and revisiting those questions and adapting, is a comfort to me. i find it much more ethically and theologically responsible than the inclination of so much of christianity to simply trust -- though, that inclination has its strengths as well. as always, i'm in favor of striking a balance between the two, which, for a christian, actually makes sense: we are products of the hybrid bible, a fusion of jewish thought pre- and post-christ. when i was little i used to tell people i was a reform jew, thinking it wasn't really a lie and sounded less odd than telling them i was episcopalian. again, weird neighborhood.

this follows on the heels of my first-ever yoga class experience, which i attended tuesday with katelyn. given that i haven't really used that kind of focus -- or most of those muscles -- since ballet oh so many years ago, it went well. it also left me more mentally, emotionally and physically stable than i'd felt in weeks. (i am not ignorant of eastern religions/am aware of the "flaws" of western adaptations of yoga, and i thought this particular class was conducted in responsible, respectful, non-hokey fashion; so it might miss the "point," but it's up to each of us to reach an understanding of what the "point" is, yes?)

my point being, there is much to be said for going out and actually exploring varieties of religious and cultural experience, beyond books and studies and even personal reflection. for that matter, there is much to be said for going out and doing something, anything, structured in the adult world aside from work. it's informative. it's fun. it's a way to meet people, many of whom are quite interesting. also, it's not going to a bar -- big points!!

i want to talk about yetzers, creative ability, and arguing with God, but it's not yet time... soon.

inquiring and discerning: part deux

still trying to learn french, by the way. still think it's just awful. and speaking it kinda hurts my nose.

umm, google's valentines day nameplate is a little bit horrifying:
...it'll get you.

maybe it's a holiday weekend special, combining with friday the 13th. happy pre-lupercalia, anyway!

a while ago, i mentioned that my overarching purpose in creating this blog was summarized in the phrase "inquiring and discerning." the time has come (the walrus said) to elaborate.

the episcopal church practices infant baptism, so i was baptized at roughly six months, at the same church i attend today. obviously, as an infant i was incapable of grasping what was going on; the purpose was to bring me into the family, so to speak -- to induct me into a community that would help raise me, and to which i could one day make a commitment myself, if i chose to do so.

i went through classes and was confirmed when i was twelve. (due to unfortunate and unforeseen circumstances, i now feel very strangely about my actual confirmation. this is an issue i hope to resolve someday soon -- and a topic for another entry.) the only thing i really remember from class was going through the baptismal covenant. it's in the book of common prayer, and it's in two parts.

first is the apostles' creed, your basic affirmation of faith. it looks pretty detailed, but it also leaves so many questions that we got into that whole conference of nicea mess (the one where we decided jesus was divine). as an outline, it's pretty thorough, though the nicene creed is what we actually say every week in church.

the second part is five vows, the response to each of which is, "i will, with God's help":

Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?

Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?

Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?

Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?

Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

so, in the roughest of terms, 1) i will be part of the christian community/go to church; 2) i will resist evil, admit when i fail and ask for forgiveness; and 3) i will talk about these things and practice what i preach. 4 and 5 i find nearly impossible to summarize. if you can't phrase something better than your source, you're best off just using quotation marks. i will 4) "seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving [my] neighbor as [my]self," and 5) "strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being," without exception.

i like the vows, and i like the response: any time human beings can bring themselves to simultaneously take responsibility and ask for help, i think it's probably a positive thing.

during a baptism, the following prayer is said sometime after the baptismal covenant:

Heavenly Father, we thank you that by water and the Holy Spirit you have bestowed upon these your servants the forgiveness of sin, and have raised them to the new life of grace. Sustain them, O Lord, in your Holy Spirit. Give them an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love you, and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works. Amen.

any time i've had a doubt or a concern or shaded feelings about organized religion, i've consistently come back to this baptismal covenant. it doesn't erase the doubt or concern, certainly, but it reminds me that there are two sides to every coin. these things are the purposes, the positives, the reasons i got invested in this whole tangled worldview in the first place. if it was easy or straightforward, there would be nothing to challenge, nothing after which to inquire, nothing to discern: it would be a waste of human potential, ability, consciousness and (i believe) free will.

i know all the arguments for adult baptism, and they're legitimate and all, but here's the thing about infant baptism that makes me sure it's a sound practice: babies squirm and cry and grab at things they're not supposed to touch, and nobody can say, "listen, baby, this is a church service and you're supposed to be proper and well-behaved right now." the point isn't how the baby is dressed or whether the baby knows the right things to say or is polite or makes a face if water dribbles into its eye. the point is, it's marked as part of the community, and when it screams and squirms and wonders what the hell is being poured onto its forehead, it's part of our responsibility to help them understand. and if we don't know, it's our responsibility to ask and find out. the point isn't the structure or the formality; the point is inquiring and discerning, seeking and serving Christ in all persons, following jesus' example to the greatest of our ability.

if i had to summarize my beliefs in thirty seconds or less, i would direct the person asking to those five questions and that one sentence. it's far from a complete answer, but together they sum up what i think is probably the point of it all. it comes down to, "try to be a good person yourself, be good to all other people, recognize when you're not doing those things, and think -- with both your head and your heart." even if i'm horribly wrong and that conclusion makes me a heretic, i still think it's a pretty damn good guiding philosophy.

follow-up

going back to the post on atheism... wow, lots of comments! of substance! joy. i've been having a wonderful time reading your thoughts, comparing them, and revisiting my own in light of yours.

i guess it's only fair, since i asked for your opinions, that i clarify my own position. i've been known to play devil's advocate on these questions more frequently than i express actual opinions or beliefs. admittedly, this is in part because my beliefs about and opinions on this subject change frequently -- in minor fashion, but enough to prevent me from being so definitive about atheism as i am about, say, the absolute evil of not using one's turn signal.

i'm a word person (which is what got me into the whole religious inquiry mess in the first place), so i'm going to borrow caro's method of going after this.

re li gion
-noun
1. a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, esp. when considered as the creation of a superhuman agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing a moral code governing the conduct of human affairs.
2. a specific fundamental set of beliefs and practices generally agreed upon by a number of persons or sects: the Christian religion; the Buddhist religion.
3. the body of persons adhering to a particular set of beliefs and practices: a world council of religions.
4. the life or state of a monk, nun, etc.: to enter religion.
5. the practice of religious beliefs; ritual observance of faith.
6. something one believes in and follows devotedly; a point or matter of ethics or conscience: to make a religion of fighting prejudice.
7. religions, Archaic. religious rites.
8. Archaic. strict faithfulness; devotion: a religion to one's vow.

a the ism
-noun
1. the doctrine or belief that there is no God.
2. disbelief in the existence of a supreme being or beings.

now that those are out there, i'd like to explain why i find the atheism one to be inadequate.

it has often been stated, in somewhat minimalist fashion, that the divergence between science and religion is the result of one addressing what's there (science) versus addressing why it's there -- its cause (religion). likewise, the difference between science and atheism is that science addresses what's there and atheism addresses what isn't its cause. by definition, then, atheism in its various forms claims some other cause -- that is, science, reflexively. natural selection, biological necessity or chance is the "why." in this sense, atheism is absolutely "a set of beliefs concerning the cause ... of the universe," as well as, i'd say, its nature. (natural selection, by the way, is indeed something i'd classify as "superhuman agency," just as readily as i'd classify something i am unable to identify in the sky as a UFO.)

as for the purpose of the universe and the moral code bit, this is where denominations come into play. this is, so far as i can tell, the number one reason so many philosophers classify themselves as atheists: the challenge of grappling with this question is just too great to resist, and the freedom to do so is restricted in most theistic religions, despite virtually none of those religions supplying adequate answers to such questions.

while we're still somewhere near the subject, i should mention that i am perpetually in argument with myself over the differences between philosophy and religion. there is so, so, so much overlap that it's almost absurd to attempt to separate them. my general feeling is that, if the two form a Venn diagram, atheism falls in the crossover space and very rarely just to one side or the other.

if my views conflict, i blame either biology or brilliance: the NIH tells me i've got another few years before my brain's fully developed, and f. scott fitzgerald tells me that "the test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function." (take THAT, science!)

i guess there's got to be a break in the monotony, but jesus, when it rains how it pours

(before anyone attacks me for the use of that song in conjunction with this post: it just came up on my itunes, which is on suffle. minor serendipity, or something.)

the two-week hiatus is the direct result of my efforts to respond to each of the comments left on the last post (thank you all so much! they'll be showing up shortly) combined with my inability to complete anything in a reasonable amount of time. it's not procrastination, it's my perfectionist demon, so to speak.

one of the greatest, most challenging and longest-standing theological questions of all time is, "why do bad things happen to good people?" (an offshoot of this Big Question is why so often they happen in or around the month of february, but that could just be personal/etown-related.)

and yes, "bad" and "good" are relative, but that's not what this is about.

i have no intention of trying to answer the question, seeing as i lack not only the qualification but the perspective at this moment in time to do so.

this question is one of the most frequently cited by people experiencing a crisis of faith. and that makes sense: if we're just living our lives and nothing's particularly wrong; going to religious services mechanically; comfortable at worship to the extent that we're not really thinking about the words we say; or even if we're attentive and wholehearted in some form of worship, but either weren't prepared for tragedy or have been hit by a bunch all at once.

but to think about "bad things" or pain in terms of religion is to recount the history of virtually every major religion, from crucifixion to exile to persecution to the pursuit of the destruction of suffering itself to asceticism. and while, throughout the myriad "bad things" littering various and sundry scriptures and histories, many explanations have been offered, all leave something to be desired in terms of clarity, thoroughness, or theological consistency.

the greatest comfort i have when i find myself asking that question is that we don't know how everything works. i'm not comfortable with the "God has a plan" response; i find it vaguely insulting (oh, well, congratulations to Him then; how does that help me?), and implies that white-haired old man God is sitting up at a work desk on a cloud somewhere inside the pearly gates of heaven sketching out blueprints. it might be the case; what do i know? regardless, at a moment of tragedy, it's not what i want to hear.

it might just be semantics (again, what do i know?), but the thought that i don't know why things happen is much more comforting to me than any of the various, inherently flawed reasons other people can give. it leaves open the realm of possibility. i don't mean to imply that i'm the "ignorance is bliss" type -- just that in traumatic moments, sometimes it's good to be a little bit blind.

someone's going to punch me in the face for this, i'm sure of it, but i have to mention the bit from donnie darko* about why we have no memory of our infancy: "did you stop and think that maybe infants need darkness? that darkness is part of their natural development?"

*in an effort to save myself and have a hipster bitch moment all at once, i'll take this opportunity to swear to you all that i saw that movie the week it was released, before i had heard anything about it whatsoever. mark and i went into heads together and dee recommended it when we were having trouble finding something promising. i'm going to miss that store.

one of the most difficult things for me to understand when i started studying hebrew biblical literature was that the passages i was translating didn't seem to have morals the way i originally thought they did. most of the stories didn't seem to be there for the purpose of explaining or suggesting anything; they were just statements, as of facts. i could choose to draw a theological conclusion from them or not; they were just there; they just were, or rather, are.

why we experience pain (as opposed to how) is an impossible question. we didn't design ourselves or manipulate our own evolution, so we don't know.

i think when we ask, "why do bad things happen to good people?" we're asking the only question we can, though i think it also misidentifies the purpose of faith. i don't think faith or religion or whatever else is some kind of magic shield against suffering. i think that, among other things, it allows us to admit that there are some things over which we have no control, and about which we have no understanding.

i know that isn't a decent conclusion, but i also know that the moments in my life that i would classify as "religious experiences" have overwhelmingly been in light of tragedy, suffering or general sadness. we learn about ourselves in moments of extreme distress. this is a cheesy thing to say, which i'm okay with, at least in moderation. but my real point is that it's possible the question, the simple asking of it, is the important part. maybe we're supposed to come up with the response, "i don't know," stop trying to fix and control and respond, and just let it hurt for a while.