HE died for you. Sunday, HE lives.
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
April 22, 2011
February 12, 2008
Bogeymen
I cannot tell you how many different ways I've tried to start this post, which I think is indicative of how big a topic this is.
Today, I want to talk about fear.
But let's begin at the beginning.
I was having breakfast with a young lady last week, and the topic drifted into the Presidential election. She commented that so many men who say they couldn't or wouldn't vote for Hilary Clinton are, ultimately, afraid of having a woman as President.
Now, of course, I've made no secret of my support for Barack Obama, but, at least consciously, I would never have thought that my opposition to her may be based in some latent misogyny. Quite the contrary, actually: the foreign policy position she's presented has seemed far more belligerent and, frankly, male than most of her Democratic contenders, to the point where, in some instances, she's starting to sound like the Republicans. My opposition to her has, at least consciously, always been based in my general opposition to DLC-style politics (i.e. "We're Democrats who want to beat up the same people as the GOP, so vote for us instead of those girlie-man Progressives"). Which is why I don't like guys like Joe Lieberman (even before he showed his true colors last year), or Evan Bayh, or even, in some instances, Harold Ford.
On the other hand, the Clintonistas will say the same thing that one of my cousins up in Milwaukee said back in 2004 on why he was supporting Bush: "Sometimes, you need a bully." After all, the world is full of scary stuff and scary people. Isn't it obvious that we need someone big and bad to go beat up the scary people?
And this has been the rapp on Obama - he's not tough enough. If he thinks he can talk to the Iranians, or Al Qaeda, or the North Koreans, or the lobbyists, or the big polluters and pharmeceutical companies, he's either a sucker who's too naive to be in office or a coward who's too spineless to get into a fight.
This is the same thing John Edwards was saying before he dropped out. You've got to be ready to take these people on. Because they're coming to get you. Hell, they may already have you.
And MY GOD, if Obama is talking this Hope crap now, just wait until the Republicans get a hold of him! None of us can possibly imagine the onslaught of character assassinations that will be unleashed against Barack by the likes of Karl Rove and Rush Limbaugh and the Swift Boat Vets and all the other cogs in the Right Wing Attack Machine (tm).
And let's not even get into what radio host Stephanie Miller called "Right Wing World". If you thought WE had enemies to be afraid of, progressives, that's nothing compared to the enemies that the conservatives see.
I mean, let's take a step back for a minute. According to Dictionary.com, the definition of conservative is:
–adjective
1. disposed to preserve existing conditions, institutions, etc., or to restore traditional ones, and to limit change.
2. cautiously moderate or purposefully low: a conservative estimate.
3. traditional in style or manner; avoiding novelty or showiness: conservative suit.
And, once you get past the politically specific definitions, you get to my favorite one:
having the power or tendency to conserve; preservative.
Preserve.
Protect.
Defend.
The very definition of the word assumes a state of constant siege. Their enemies are legion.
It's not just specific terrorist groups like Al Qaeda or Hamas or Hezbollah, in their eyes. It's not just specific countries like Iran or Syria. It's not even the whole of the religion of Islam. It is a clash of whole civilizations. Our very way of life is at stake. These people don't just want to kick us out of their countries. They don't just want to control the world's oil supply. They want to enslave us. They want to steal our God. And, barring that, they want to kill as many of us as they possibly can, for no other reason than the fact that we exist.
I think 9/11 is probably the first time that the average white person in America felt like there was a man out there, somewhere, who was plotting to kill them in the most newsworthy fashion possible, simply because of their identity, as opposed to some assumed grievance.
Which is probably way far fewer Black people in America had their world turned upside down as a result of that day: we've lived under the threat of random, indiscriminate identity-based violence & bloodshed for centuries. So what of Osama Bin Laden wants to blow up my office? The LAPD may shoot me tonight before I can even pull out of the driveway, ya heard?
When I was accepted into Princeton, my older brother pulled me aside and explained to me that, when I got to campus, I was suddenly going to be a "nigger", and subject to unspeakable affronts like the kind he experienced at the University of Maryland back in the early 80's. Things like being bombarded with so-called water balloons filled with ketchup, or having to endure regular racist cat calls from trucks full of his fellow students simply walking home from a late class. And that I needed to steal myself for what was coming.
But, see, the funny thing is, by the time he pulled me aside, I'd already been going to school with the sons of rich white people for the better part of seven years, and it simply wasn't the case. The worst racial incidents that I'd experienced there both came in 6th grade - in the first, one kid told me that I was the blackest Black person he had ever seen, and, in the second, another kid called me "Buckwheat". When I confronted him about it, he tried to spin it that Buckwheat was famous (thanks to the Eddie Murphy skit) and that it was meant as a term of endearment. Whatever. It stopped. And, as far as the first incident, hey, let's be honest - I'm a deep chocolate brother and I wear my complexion with pride.
And, in the one instance in my life where a white kid did have the nerve to call me "nigger" to my face, he was inches away from having a "come to Jesus" meeting with my fist before the host at that particular party, my token white friend at the time, kicked the offending child out while his mother pleaded with my mom for forgiveness for exposing me to such riff-raff.
The point is, I'd been around white people for a while.
And I wasn't scared of them.
Now, I'm not saying that I'm some hero or that I deserve a "Profiles in Courage" award. Put me in the room with just about any kind of barking dog, and watch my inner punk flourish.
What I am saying is, fear is easy. It usually goes hand in hand with people who talk about being realistic.
But, personally, I'm tired of being afraid.
In her book, "The Game of Life and How To Play It", Florence Scovel-Shinn defines fear as having perfect faith in evil.
It's that other 'F' word that was key for me.
Faith.
And not the way Mike Huckabee means.
Like I wrote the morning after the 2004 Presidential Election in "....the sun WILL rise...", I suddenly understood that I had been a willing participant in a system that validated evil, even if it was only as the lesser of two.
And, in that moment, I decided that I would NEVER, EVER vote for someone because I was afraid of something ever again.
When I wrote "The California Democratic Party SUCKS" back during the 2006 Gubernatorial Election, I caught a lot of flak from my local progressive friends for saying that I would not vote for the Democratic candidate, Phil Angelides, even if that meant re-electing Arnold. They were all terrified of 4 more years of Herr Schwarzenegger. But I had faith that, by not choosing the lesser of two evils, I would get closer to the outcome that I wanted. In short, I put it in the hands of a higher power.
Two years later, I think most Californians will agree that, while he's been less than ideal, the Governator has been a fairly decent steward of the Golden State.
Everyone was so down after Bush was re-elected, and appropriately so. 2005 was an awful year for America. But didn't I say that that particular election was going to be the low point before a progressive surge in the American electorate? Look at the country now - Democratic primaries are seeing, in some cases, double the voter turn out than 4 years ago.... which was already a record year.
My point is, I stopped letting George Bush and Arnold Schwarzenegger steal my joy. And that was not blind faith. It was a belief backed by conviction and effort and wisdom. But it is also founded in the fundamental understanding that nothing anybody else can do to me can hurt me more than what I can do to myself.
Which is why I love this little mantra from Frank Herbert's "Dune:
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
What so many people may not understand is that Obama is offering the same message and operating on the same frequency as not just RFK or MLK, but of, ultimately, Gandhi.
It's not about Peace Through Strength.
My friends, it is about Strength Through Peace.
Not world peace. Inner peace. Spiritual peace. Human peace. Peace at the center. The peace that passes all understanding.
And folks, you know that I am very much a Prodigal Son when it comes to the traditional church. But the peace that comes from knowing that you are MORE than how a poll or an election or a pundit or an attack ad defines you, let's you confront the smears from the Hannitys and O'Reilly's of the world, directly, without malice, without hatred, and without fear.
The peace that comes from knowing that the true idea at the center of America is much older and deeper and fundamental and eternal and MORE than the political, social, and economic structures that have been put in place on this particular mass of land by these particular people over the last 232 years, and it would be impossible for a group of men in a cave with some explosives or a despot with an army of any size to destroy it - THAT peace lets you confront those with foul intentions with a resolve so steely and a strength so insurmountable that they wither in your presence.
The strength for those confrontations is the same that Gandhi used to dismantle the oppressor of a nation, or that Dr. King used to gain equality for his people.
Now, those who still live in fear simply cannot believe in the validity of any other kind of power besides that which is fear-based. And that's OK.
When it gets scary for them, the rest of us will hold their hands and whisper that it will be alright.
And, honestly, as long as the likes of McCain and even Hilary are preparing to wage war from a place that is ultimately based in fear, neither of them will EVER get my vote. Even if she is the Democratic nominee.
Like I've said before - I'm MORE. And until she realizes that she is, too, she cannot possibly represent me.
And I have faith that the world will unfold to my liking as long as I am true to who I am and what I believe.
Just like the State of California did. And just like the American electorate did.
In short, I think it's time for us all to get past our fear, and have the courage to hope for the world and the life we truly desire.
In all of the areas where you feel the tension to be secure, to be protected, to be safe from the Bogeymen... in every place where you hold your fear like a warm, soothing blanket:
Fear of Republicans.
Fear of Liberals.
Fear of Homosexuals.
Fear of Homophobes.
Fear of white people.
Fear of black people.
Fear of Bush.
Fear of McCain.
Fear of Hilary.
Fear of Obama.
Fear of Bin Laden.
Fear of women.
Fear of men.
Fear of failure.
Fear of success.
Fear of Satan.
Fear of God.
Fear of life.
Fear of death.
Let.
It.
Go.
Because you're already safe.
How could you not be?
You're MORE.
Today, I want to talk about fear.
But let's begin at the beginning.
I was having breakfast with a young lady last week, and the topic drifted into the Presidential election. She commented that so many men who say they couldn't or wouldn't vote for Hilary Clinton are, ultimately, afraid of having a woman as President.
Now, of course, I've made no secret of my support for Barack Obama, but, at least consciously, I would never have thought that my opposition to her may be based in some latent misogyny. Quite the contrary, actually: the foreign policy position she's presented has seemed far more belligerent and, frankly, male than most of her Democratic contenders, to the point where, in some instances, she's starting to sound like the Republicans. My opposition to her has, at least consciously, always been based in my general opposition to DLC-style politics (i.e. "We're Democrats who want to beat up the same people as the GOP, so vote for us instead of those girlie-man Progressives"). Which is why I don't like guys like Joe Lieberman (even before he showed his true colors last year), or Evan Bayh, or even, in some instances, Harold Ford.
On the other hand, the Clintonistas will say the same thing that one of my cousins up in Milwaukee said back in 2004 on why he was supporting Bush: "Sometimes, you need a bully." After all, the world is full of scary stuff and scary people. Isn't it obvious that we need someone big and bad to go beat up the scary people?
And this has been the rapp on Obama - he's not tough enough. If he thinks he can talk to the Iranians, or Al Qaeda, or the North Koreans, or the lobbyists, or the big polluters and pharmeceutical companies, he's either a sucker who's too naive to be in office or a coward who's too spineless to get into a fight.
This is the same thing John Edwards was saying before he dropped out. You've got to be ready to take these people on. Because they're coming to get you. Hell, they may already have you.
And MY GOD, if Obama is talking this Hope crap now, just wait until the Republicans get a hold of him! None of us can possibly imagine the onslaught of character assassinations that will be unleashed against Barack by the likes of Karl Rove and Rush Limbaugh and the Swift Boat Vets and all the other cogs in the Right Wing Attack Machine (tm).
And let's not even get into what radio host Stephanie Miller called "Right Wing World". If you thought WE had enemies to be afraid of, progressives, that's nothing compared to the enemies that the conservatives see.
I mean, let's take a step back for a minute. According to Dictionary.com, the definition of conservative is:
–adjective
1. disposed to preserve existing conditions, institutions, etc., or to restore traditional ones, and to limit change.
2. cautiously moderate or purposefully low: a conservative estimate.
3. traditional in style or manner; avoiding novelty or showiness: conservative suit.
And, once you get past the politically specific definitions, you get to my favorite one:
having the power or tendency to conserve; preservative.
Preserve.
Protect.
Defend.
The very definition of the word assumes a state of constant siege. Their enemies are legion.
It's not just specific terrorist groups like Al Qaeda or Hamas or Hezbollah, in their eyes. It's not just specific countries like Iran or Syria. It's not even the whole of the religion of Islam. It is a clash of whole civilizations. Our very way of life is at stake. These people don't just want to kick us out of their countries. They don't just want to control the world's oil supply. They want to enslave us. They want to steal our God. And, barring that, they want to kill as many of us as they possibly can, for no other reason than the fact that we exist.
I think 9/11 is probably the first time that the average white person in America felt like there was a man out there, somewhere, who was plotting to kill them in the most newsworthy fashion possible, simply because of their identity, as opposed to some assumed grievance.
Which is probably way far fewer Black people in America had their world turned upside down as a result of that day: we've lived under the threat of random, indiscriminate identity-based violence & bloodshed for centuries. So what of Osama Bin Laden wants to blow up my office? The LAPD may shoot me tonight before I can even pull out of the driveway, ya heard?
When I was accepted into Princeton, my older brother pulled me aside and explained to me that, when I got to campus, I was suddenly going to be a "nigger", and subject to unspeakable affronts like the kind he experienced at the University of Maryland back in the early 80's. Things like being bombarded with so-called water balloons filled with ketchup, or having to endure regular racist cat calls from trucks full of his fellow students simply walking home from a late class. And that I needed to steal myself for what was coming.
But, see, the funny thing is, by the time he pulled me aside, I'd already been going to school with the sons of rich white people for the better part of seven years, and it simply wasn't the case. The worst racial incidents that I'd experienced there both came in 6th grade - in the first, one kid told me that I was the blackest Black person he had ever seen, and, in the second, another kid called me "Buckwheat". When I confronted him about it, he tried to spin it that Buckwheat was famous (thanks to the Eddie Murphy skit) and that it was meant as a term of endearment. Whatever. It stopped. And, as far as the first incident, hey, let's be honest - I'm a deep chocolate brother and I wear my complexion with pride.
And, in the one instance in my life where a white kid did have the nerve to call me "nigger" to my face, he was inches away from having a "come to Jesus" meeting with my fist before the host at that particular party, my token white friend at the time, kicked the offending child out while his mother pleaded with my mom for forgiveness for exposing me to such riff-raff.
The point is, I'd been around white people for a while.
And I wasn't scared of them.
Now, I'm not saying that I'm some hero or that I deserve a "Profiles in Courage" award. Put me in the room with just about any kind of barking dog, and watch my inner punk flourish.
What I am saying is, fear is easy. It usually goes hand in hand with people who talk about being realistic.
But, personally, I'm tired of being afraid.
In her book, "The Game of Life and How To Play It", Florence Scovel-Shinn defines fear as having perfect faith in evil.
It's that other 'F' word that was key for me.
Faith.
And not the way Mike Huckabee means.
Like I wrote the morning after the 2004 Presidential Election in "....the sun WILL rise...", I suddenly understood that I had been a willing participant in a system that validated evil, even if it was only as the lesser of two.
And, in that moment, I decided that I would NEVER, EVER vote for someone because I was afraid of something ever again.
When I wrote "The California Democratic Party SUCKS" back during the 2006 Gubernatorial Election, I caught a lot of flak from my local progressive friends for saying that I would not vote for the Democratic candidate, Phil Angelides, even if that meant re-electing Arnold. They were all terrified of 4 more years of Herr Schwarzenegger. But I had faith that, by not choosing the lesser of two evils, I would get closer to the outcome that I wanted. In short, I put it in the hands of a higher power.
Two years later, I think most Californians will agree that, while he's been less than ideal, the Governator has been a fairly decent steward of the Golden State.
Everyone was so down after Bush was re-elected, and appropriately so. 2005 was an awful year for America. But didn't I say that that particular election was going to be the low point before a progressive surge in the American electorate? Look at the country now - Democratic primaries are seeing, in some cases, double the voter turn out than 4 years ago.... which was already a record year.
My point is, I stopped letting George Bush and Arnold Schwarzenegger steal my joy. And that was not blind faith. It was a belief backed by conviction and effort and wisdom. But it is also founded in the fundamental understanding that nothing anybody else can do to me can hurt me more than what I can do to myself.
Which is why I love this little mantra from Frank Herbert's "Dune:
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
What so many people may not understand is that Obama is offering the same message and operating on the same frequency as not just RFK or MLK, but of, ultimately, Gandhi.
It's not about Peace Through Strength.
My friends, it is about Strength Through Peace.
Not world peace. Inner peace. Spiritual peace. Human peace. Peace at the center. The peace that passes all understanding.
And folks, you know that I am very much a Prodigal Son when it comes to the traditional church. But the peace that comes from knowing that you are MORE than how a poll or an election or a pundit or an attack ad defines you, let's you confront the smears from the Hannitys and O'Reilly's of the world, directly, without malice, without hatred, and without fear.
The peace that comes from knowing that the true idea at the center of America is much older and deeper and fundamental and eternal and MORE than the political, social, and economic structures that have been put in place on this particular mass of land by these particular people over the last 232 years, and it would be impossible for a group of men in a cave with some explosives or a despot with an army of any size to destroy it - THAT peace lets you confront those with foul intentions with a resolve so steely and a strength so insurmountable that they wither in your presence.
The strength for those confrontations is the same that Gandhi used to dismantle the oppressor of a nation, or that Dr. King used to gain equality for his people.
Now, those who still live in fear simply cannot believe in the validity of any other kind of power besides that which is fear-based. And that's OK.
When it gets scary for them, the rest of us will hold their hands and whisper that it will be alright.
And, honestly, as long as the likes of McCain and even Hilary are preparing to wage war from a place that is ultimately based in fear, neither of them will EVER get my vote. Even if she is the Democratic nominee.
Like I've said before - I'm MORE. And until she realizes that she is, too, she cannot possibly represent me.
And I have faith that the world will unfold to my liking as long as I am true to who I am and what I believe.
Just like the State of California did. And just like the American electorate did.
In short, I think it's time for us all to get past our fear, and have the courage to hope for the world and the life we truly desire.
In all of the areas where you feel the tension to be secure, to be protected, to be safe from the Bogeymen... in every place where you hold your fear like a warm, soothing blanket:
Fear of Republicans.
Fear of Liberals.
Fear of Homosexuals.
Fear of Homophobes.
Fear of white people.
Fear of black people.
Fear of Bush.
Fear of McCain.
Fear of Hilary.
Fear of Obama.
Fear of Bin Laden.
Fear of women.
Fear of men.
Fear of failure.
Fear of success.
Fear of Satan.
Fear of God.
Fear of life.
Fear of death.
Let.
It.
Go.
Because you're already safe.
How could you not be?
You're MORE.
December 06, 2006
The Road to Hell
So, as the child of a fairly religious Protestant Christian household, I get alot of prayers & prayer requests in my e-mail. The prayer requests will always get a moment of quiet blessing from me. But I almost always ignore and/or delete the praise chain letters.
You know, the ones that scream "If you REALLY loved Jesus, you'd forward me to every person you know a thousand times over, you jack-legged backslider!!!!"
A friend once asked me why is God so quiet when all of the bad things in the world seem to be screaming on my news and in the world all of the time.
And I told her that the bad things scream because God is a given.
God doesn't need to shout.
God is.
I had a dream once where I was writing math & physics equations on a blackboard in a classroom (yeah, I know, despite the curly locks and designer clothes, I'll always be an engineer at heart), and the equations were all about proving the theories of quantum computing.
For the non-scientific among you, here's a quick primer:
Everything you see on your regular computer is the result of the combination of millions upon millions of tiny bits of information stored in it's memory as either the number zero or the number one. Those 0's and 1's are there because the basic transistors that form the computer's memory register either the presence or the absence of a single electron.
Well, electrons are everywhere. The transistor itself contains trillions of electrons. You and I are both composed of trillions upon trillions of electrons (among other tiny things). As is the steering wheel of your car or that slice of bacon you had for breakfast this morning.
So, if these tiny, clunky transistors inside of your Dell or your MacBook are capable of all of these amazing things, simply by processing a few million electrons, what would you call something that could process all of the electrons in the universe?
You, me, this computer monitor you're looking at, the chair you're sitting in, the shoes you're wearing - we are all part of a vast and unfathomable intelligence that is constantly.... thinking? Comprehending?
Or maybe just being.
It just is.
And that, my friends, is God.
God is.
Or, as He told Moses, "I am".
That is all.
Which means everytime you grab a doorknob, you're grabbing God.
Everytime you hear a leaf blower outside your window, you're hearing God.
Everytime you have dinner, you're tasting God.
Everytime you splash on cologne, you're smelling God.
Everytime you make love, you're touching God.
Everytime you look in the mirror, you're seeing God.
And everytime you look someone else in the eye, God is seeing you.
God is.
So, if God just..... is, doesn't it stand to reason that you can NEVER, EVER be separated from God?
And, if that is also the case, doesn't it also mean that sin, the state of separation from God, simply does not exist?
Sin is an illusion.
Or, more appropriately, a delusion.
Because, you see, from the moment we're born, we feel separate. When your very first conscious experience is that of being violently thrust out of your mother's womb into a cold, blinding world, every single thought you've ever had since then has been shaped by that moment.
Being expelled. Then cut off. Literally.
And hence, we have "original sin".
James O. Barr wrote in "The Crow" that "Mother" is the name for "God" in the lips of every child.
But, oddly enough, once you understand the physics behind the metaphysics, it's obvious that there simply is no such thing as "sin" as we Christians tend to think of it.
God just is. And, if God is, than everything that is, is God.
You are God.
You cannot be separate from yourself.
You cannot be separate from God. God's presence is perpetual. His embrace is eternal and reaches you no matter where you go or who you are or what you do.
That's love. True love.
And it's unconditional.
So, if God's love is unconditional, then, logically speaking, there's nothing you can do that will stop God from loving you.
God loves Hitler.
God loves Bin Laden.
God loves your abuser.
God loves your rapist.
God loves the person who murdered your child.
One of the books rejected by the Council of Nicea for inclusion in what we now know as the Holy Bible was the Gospel of Mary of Magdela. And, in the tiny bit of it that was found with the Dead Sea Scrolls, it gives a fascinating account of Jesus, when he visits his disciplines (one of whom is, apparently, Mary) after his resurrection. And in it, point blank, Jesus says "There Is No Sin, but it is YOU who make sin".
It's a state of mind.
In the URL of the title above, you'll find a link to NPR's weekly profile show, "The American Life". And, in an episode entitled "Heretics", they talk about Rev. Carlton Pearson, a prominent and successful pastor and former rising star in the evangelical Christian community who suddenly had an epiphany, based in, of all things, logic.
If God's love is unconditional, than there cannot be a Hell, and, therefore, everyone is already saved.
But, apparently, many Christians seem to need Hell. It helps them sleep at night to know that, even if the law of man never catches up with a Hitler or a Bin Laden or a rapist or a murderer, that the justice of God will ultimately catch up with them. I've lost count of how many Christians I've heard say that, if there was no Hell, everyone would be free to do whatever they want, and there would be untold atrocities committed in their wake.
As if untold atrocities don't already occur every single second of every day in every city on earth. And, honestly, I'm always forced to wonder, just what kind of atrocities do these "Christians" really wish they could do if they ever thought for a second that God the Punisher wasn't looking?
Instead of trying to keep up appearances for God's ever vigilant eye, shouldn't these very same Christians be working on their own hearts & minds, seeking a path to truly lift the darkness from their souls, rather than simply papering over holes in their morality with a nice Sunday suit and a Bible in an embroidered cover?
It seems to me that the centerpiece of faith for SO many believers out there is fear.
We always hear about "God Fearing Men", as if that were something to aspire to. That I'm somehow more virtuous because I don't knock over liquor stores or kick old ladies down stairs for fear of retribution from a giant, cosmic avenger.
In that universe of faith, the Old Testament God that people seem to cling to so dearly, in comparison to the Devil, sounds like the very definition of "the lesser of two evils". We hold onto that deity like the abused child clings to the cuff of a drunken man in a white tank-top.
So people sing hymns and say praises loud enough for a fickle, vain God to hear on the off chance that he'll find favor with us, his poor, unworthy subjects. It sounds like that episode in the Twilight Zone, where the boy who could do anything wished away the whole world, except for his parents and the people in the town around him, so they could sit at his feet and watch videos of dinosaur fights all day.
No wonder so many people endure indignity and suffering, ignoring, as Howard Dean says, their own political self interest and voting for the self-proclaimed Party of God. If they don't, in their minds, they just might end up in Hell, and they'd better not leave any stone unturned.
Delusion.
And Fear.
A theology based in those things can only be one of subjugation, not salvation. And it serves no one but the person who preaches it, as if he or she were the only person who could speak definitively on God's behalf.
I choose to love God. Not fear Him.
And, by loving God, I love myself, and every single other person I ever meet. And vice versa.
Carlton Pearson was branded a heretic and, for all intents and purposes, excommunicated from his church.
I suppose, given everything I've had to say here today, some might think of me as a heretic as well.
Personally, I just think my eyes are open.
You know, the ones that scream "If you REALLY loved Jesus, you'd forward me to every person you know a thousand times over, you jack-legged backslider!!!!"
A friend once asked me why is God so quiet when all of the bad things in the world seem to be screaming on my news and in the world all of the time.
And I told her that the bad things scream because God is a given.
God doesn't need to shout.
God is.
I had a dream once where I was writing math & physics equations on a blackboard in a classroom (yeah, I know, despite the curly locks and designer clothes, I'll always be an engineer at heart), and the equations were all about proving the theories of quantum computing.
For the non-scientific among you, here's a quick primer:
Everything you see on your regular computer is the result of the combination of millions upon millions of tiny bits of information stored in it's memory as either the number zero or the number one. Those 0's and 1's are there because the basic transistors that form the computer's memory register either the presence or the absence of a single electron.
Well, electrons are everywhere. The transistor itself contains trillions of electrons. You and I are both composed of trillions upon trillions of electrons (among other tiny things). As is the steering wheel of your car or that slice of bacon you had for breakfast this morning.
So, if these tiny, clunky transistors inside of your Dell or your MacBook are capable of all of these amazing things, simply by processing a few million electrons, what would you call something that could process all of the electrons in the universe?
You, me, this computer monitor you're looking at, the chair you're sitting in, the shoes you're wearing - we are all part of a vast and unfathomable intelligence that is constantly.... thinking? Comprehending?
Or maybe just being.
It just is.
And that, my friends, is God.
God is.
Or, as He told Moses, "I am".
That is all.
Which means everytime you grab a doorknob, you're grabbing God.
Everytime you hear a leaf blower outside your window, you're hearing God.
Everytime you have dinner, you're tasting God.
Everytime you splash on cologne, you're smelling God.
Everytime you make love, you're touching God.
Everytime you look in the mirror, you're seeing God.
And everytime you look someone else in the eye, God is seeing you.
God is.
So, if God just..... is, doesn't it stand to reason that you can NEVER, EVER be separated from God?
And, if that is also the case, doesn't it also mean that sin, the state of separation from God, simply does not exist?
Sin is an illusion.
Or, more appropriately, a delusion.
Because, you see, from the moment we're born, we feel separate. When your very first conscious experience is that of being violently thrust out of your mother's womb into a cold, blinding world, every single thought you've ever had since then has been shaped by that moment.
Being expelled. Then cut off. Literally.
And hence, we have "original sin".
James O. Barr wrote in "The Crow" that "Mother" is the name for "God" in the lips of every child.
But, oddly enough, once you understand the physics behind the metaphysics, it's obvious that there simply is no such thing as "sin" as we Christians tend to think of it.
God just is. And, if God is, than everything that is, is God.
You are God.
You cannot be separate from yourself.
You cannot be separate from God. God's presence is perpetual. His embrace is eternal and reaches you no matter where you go or who you are or what you do.
That's love. True love.
And it's unconditional.
So, if God's love is unconditional, then, logically speaking, there's nothing you can do that will stop God from loving you.
God loves Hitler.
God loves Bin Laden.
God loves your abuser.
God loves your rapist.
God loves the person who murdered your child.
One of the books rejected by the Council of Nicea for inclusion in what we now know as the Holy Bible was the Gospel of Mary of Magdela. And, in the tiny bit of it that was found with the Dead Sea Scrolls, it gives a fascinating account of Jesus, when he visits his disciplines (one of whom is, apparently, Mary) after his resurrection. And in it, point blank, Jesus says "There Is No Sin, but it is YOU who make sin".
It's a state of mind.
In the URL of the title above, you'll find a link to NPR's weekly profile show, "The American Life". And, in an episode entitled "Heretics", they talk about Rev. Carlton Pearson, a prominent and successful pastor and former rising star in the evangelical Christian community who suddenly had an epiphany, based in, of all things, logic.
If God's love is unconditional, than there cannot be a Hell, and, therefore, everyone is already saved.
But, apparently, many Christians seem to need Hell. It helps them sleep at night to know that, even if the law of man never catches up with a Hitler or a Bin Laden or a rapist or a murderer, that the justice of God will ultimately catch up with them. I've lost count of how many Christians I've heard say that, if there was no Hell, everyone would be free to do whatever they want, and there would be untold atrocities committed in their wake.
As if untold atrocities don't already occur every single second of every day in every city on earth. And, honestly, I'm always forced to wonder, just what kind of atrocities do these "Christians" really wish they could do if they ever thought for a second that God the Punisher wasn't looking?
Instead of trying to keep up appearances for God's ever vigilant eye, shouldn't these very same Christians be working on their own hearts & minds, seeking a path to truly lift the darkness from their souls, rather than simply papering over holes in their morality with a nice Sunday suit and a Bible in an embroidered cover?
It seems to me that the centerpiece of faith for SO many believers out there is fear.
We always hear about "God Fearing Men", as if that were something to aspire to. That I'm somehow more virtuous because I don't knock over liquor stores or kick old ladies down stairs for fear of retribution from a giant, cosmic avenger.
In that universe of faith, the Old Testament God that people seem to cling to so dearly, in comparison to the Devil, sounds like the very definition of "the lesser of two evils". We hold onto that deity like the abused child clings to the cuff of a drunken man in a white tank-top.
So people sing hymns and say praises loud enough for a fickle, vain God to hear on the off chance that he'll find favor with us, his poor, unworthy subjects. It sounds like that episode in the Twilight Zone, where the boy who could do anything wished away the whole world, except for his parents and the people in the town around him, so they could sit at his feet and watch videos of dinosaur fights all day.
No wonder so many people endure indignity and suffering, ignoring, as Howard Dean says, their own political self interest and voting for the self-proclaimed Party of God. If they don't, in their minds, they just might end up in Hell, and they'd better not leave any stone unturned.
Delusion.
And Fear.
A theology based in those things can only be one of subjugation, not salvation. And it serves no one but the person who preaches it, as if he or she were the only person who could speak definitively on God's behalf.
I choose to love God. Not fear Him.
And, by loving God, I love myself, and every single other person I ever meet. And vice versa.
Carlton Pearson was branded a heretic and, for all intents and purposes, excommunicated from his church.
I suppose, given everything I've had to say here today, some might think of me as a heretic as well.
Personally, I just think my eyes are open.
May 30, 2006
Words Made Flesh
The link in the title above is an interview at Salon.com - but more about that in a minute.
About a year ago, my agent asked me to put together a bio of myself that he could include with my written materials whenever he sent it around to any prospective producers, executives, etc. Realizing that this bio was yet another opportunity to show off my acrobatic skills with the English language, I really relished the opportunity to have a little fun at my own expense, with phrases like:
The last line in my bio reads:
I recall, several years ago, Louis Farrakhan made a highly publicized stop-over here in the City of Angels, giving a sermon in, of all places, the Staples Center. I caught a small portion of what he had to say on TV, and this part always stuck with me.
Farrakhan spoke of both the kinship and the distinctions between the various religions sired by Abraham. As the literal meaning of the term "Islam" implies, Muslims such as himself are called to submit to the will of God. Jews, on the other hand, are the chosen people of God, and, as such, have both specific rights and priviledges as God's favorites. However, in Farrakhan's mind, Christians have, in many ways, the most difficult calling, because their faith calls them to strive to actually be LIKE Christ, who was, according to our faith, God incarnate as a man.
I spent virtually all of my formative years as an active participant in our local church, to which, I will give all the credit to my mother. Mom sang on the choir, she taught Sunday School, she served on the various administrative boards, etc. So, it should surprise no one that I sang on the Children's choir, regularly attended ALL Sunday School functions, served as both a junior usher and an acolyte (the Protestant equivalent of an altar boy, for my Catholic friends out there).
At his funeral this past Christmas, I learned that my mother's father commuted the 2 hour drive every Sunday from Baltimore City to his traditional family church on the other side of the Chesapeake Bay in rural Dorchester County to attend morning service, and personally took it upon himself to raise the money necessary to keep the church open long after it's membership had shrunk below the size that could actually support it. "They can't close it as long as I'm alive", he was heard to say.
The church runs very deep in my family.
And, as a child, I devoured all of these concepts of personal ethics. I took the Golden Rule so deeply to heart, once, at summer camp, I insisted that another kid punch me in the stomach to make amends after I'd accidentally winged him in the temple with the zipper of my jacket.
I have an ex who is an ordained AME minister. She once called me "a good little Methodist" - something President Bush & I have in common, at least, in terms of denominational affiliations. She elaborated that, in her mind, Methodists are distinctive from other Christians from their devotion to their concept of grace. And she defined grace in this way: If mercy is giving someone something that they don't deserve, then grace is NOT giving someone EXACTLY what they deserve.
But, ever since I left home to go to college, I've never really had a regular church that I could call my own.
Part of that is laziness. I mean, do I REALLY need to get up at 9AM to put on a three piece suit on a Sunday morning to ensure my eternal salvation? Is God, the Creator of All Things, the Alpha and the Omega, REALLY as petty as my 6th grade homeroom teacher?
But the other part of it is recognition. Having spent a lifetime in the church, I know all the tricks and cliches. I can recite the Nicean Creed, The Lord's Prayer, the 23rd Psalm, all by heart. Most of the metaphors and figures of speech most pastors use in their sermons are so rote, so repetitious, so mechanical, so stinking artificial, I can smell them a mile away before they even read it off of their prepared texts.
Back when I was dating my clergy ex-girlfriend, we went to alot of churches here in L.A., and, I've got to say, there are alot of guys in alot of pulpits around here (and in all the other towns I've lived in) who are tremendous entertainers.
But having a great singing voice and being able to tell a handful of Jesus-centric jokes is NOT the same thing as speaking The Word.
One of my favorite Bible verses is Verse 1, Chapter 1 in the Gospel According to John:
The point is, once I heard The Word, and experienced it, I had absolutely no interest in wasting fours of my Sunday morning sweating in a three piece suit listening to some dude PRETENDING to speak it.
I once told my Mom that there are three kinds of clergy:
The clergy aren't the point. And neither is the church.
I once floated the idea among people on my old e-mail list about selling all those old church cathedrals and just having prayer/Bible study in our living rooms, and people literally looked at me like I'd grown an extra head.
(or, dare I say, a third eye?)
I honestly stopped looking for a church home because, in the end, I decided I didn't need it. Yes, it's great to have a common place & companions for worship, but, ultimately, I thought the whole point of the Protestant reformation was that you didn't need another person in order to commune with the divine.
If sin is a state of separation from God, and God is in all things, including ourselves, then isn't the notion of an intermediary between yourself and God the very definition of sin?
I've been reading "No God But God: the Origins, Evolution, and Future of Islam" by Reza Aslan, and he makes the point about how, so often, in many different religions, including both Islam AND Christianity, the churches and institutions that are created by the followers of prophets are very often the antithesis of everything that the prophets themselves actually represented.
In many cases, I think we imprison ourselves in the forms and rituals and institutions we've constructed around The Word, so much so that we begin to think that the church IS The Word.
But it's not.
The Word is spoken every single day. But it's not shouted from a rooftop or screamed through a megaphone.
The voice that speaks The Word is small.
And still.
And sometimes, that's all I need to be to hear it.
Which brings me to this article in Salon, from a former nun who's now written a book that looks at the so-called "Axial Age" - a period in history when the foundations over virtually ALL the world's religions were founded. And, oddly enough, all these different religious traditions, from Aristotle to Confucius to Buddha to Zoroaster and his philosophical decendents, Jesus and Mohammed, all seem to be saying the same thing.
The Word can be written in many different alphabets & syllables. But the sound is still the same.
Check out her article - it's long, but WELL worth the read.
I, for one, have added her book to my Amazon wish list.
About a year ago, my agent asked me to put together a bio of myself that he could include with my written materials whenever he sent it around to any prospective producers, executives, etc. Realizing that this bio was yet another opportunity to show off my acrobatic skills with the English language, I really relished the opportunity to have a little fun at my own expense, with phrases like:
"Realizing that slavery was still technically illegal in the United States, He left the technology industry and moved to Los Angeles to pursue his life-long dream of filmmaking."After all, this was being distributed to illustrate that I am, in fact, an artist. Attitude plus information was the name of the game.
The last line in my bio reads:
"He considers himself a Christian, so he’s learning not to look down on religious fundamentalists."The two books I have the earliest memories of as a child are a picture book about the life of Abraham Lincoln, and a Children's Bible. It had all the Cecil B. DeMille-ready sections of the Old Testament, plus the Nativity, the Sermon on the Mount, & the Last Supper. I always wondered why my huge, white Children's Bible, with the big letters and colorful pictures, had so many fewer chapters than the regular Bible Mom & Dad had. It was missing the gory details of the Crucifixtion, the Acts of the Apostles, all of Paul's letters, and the Book of Revelations.
I recall, several years ago, Louis Farrakhan made a highly publicized stop-over here in the City of Angels, giving a sermon in, of all places, the Staples Center. I caught a small portion of what he had to say on TV, and this part always stuck with me.
Farrakhan spoke of both the kinship and the distinctions between the various religions sired by Abraham. As the literal meaning of the term "Islam" implies, Muslims such as himself are called to submit to the will of God. Jews, on the other hand, are the chosen people of God, and, as such, have both specific rights and priviledges as God's favorites. However, in Farrakhan's mind, Christians have, in many ways, the most difficult calling, because their faith calls them to strive to actually be LIKE Christ, who was, according to our faith, God incarnate as a man.
I spent virtually all of my formative years as an active participant in our local church, to which, I will give all the credit to my mother. Mom sang on the choir, she taught Sunday School, she served on the various administrative boards, etc. So, it should surprise no one that I sang on the Children's choir, regularly attended ALL Sunday School functions, served as both a junior usher and an acolyte (the Protestant equivalent of an altar boy, for my Catholic friends out there).
At his funeral this past Christmas, I learned that my mother's father commuted the 2 hour drive every Sunday from Baltimore City to his traditional family church on the other side of the Chesapeake Bay in rural Dorchester County to attend morning service, and personally took it upon himself to raise the money necessary to keep the church open long after it's membership had shrunk below the size that could actually support it. "They can't close it as long as I'm alive", he was heard to say.
The church runs very deep in my family.
And, as a child, I devoured all of these concepts of personal ethics. I took the Golden Rule so deeply to heart, once, at summer camp, I insisted that another kid punch me in the stomach to make amends after I'd accidentally winged him in the temple with the zipper of my jacket.
I have an ex who is an ordained AME minister. She once called me "a good little Methodist" - something President Bush & I have in common, at least, in terms of denominational affiliations. She elaborated that, in her mind, Methodists are distinctive from other Christians from their devotion to their concept of grace. And she defined grace in this way: If mercy is giving someone something that they don't deserve, then grace is NOT giving someone EXACTLY what they deserve.
But, ever since I left home to go to college, I've never really had a regular church that I could call my own.
Part of that is laziness. I mean, do I REALLY need to get up at 9AM to put on a three piece suit on a Sunday morning to ensure my eternal salvation? Is God, the Creator of All Things, the Alpha and the Omega, REALLY as petty as my 6th grade homeroom teacher?
But the other part of it is recognition. Having spent a lifetime in the church, I know all the tricks and cliches. I can recite the Nicean Creed, The Lord's Prayer, the 23rd Psalm, all by heart. Most of the metaphors and figures of speech most pastors use in their sermons are so rote, so repetitious, so mechanical, so stinking artificial, I can smell them a mile away before they even read it off of their prepared texts.
Back when I was dating my clergy ex-girlfriend, we went to alot of churches here in L.A., and, I've got to say, there are alot of guys in alot of pulpits around here (and in all the other towns I've lived in) who are tremendous entertainers.
But having a great singing voice and being able to tell a handful of Jesus-centric jokes is NOT the same thing as speaking The Word.
One of my favorite Bible verses is Verse 1, Chapter 1 in the Gospel According to John:
"In the beginning was the Word,We all know The Word when we hear it. Sometimes, it's coming through the voice in the pulpit, like my good friend down in Annapolis. Sometimes, it's on a silver screen, in the most unlikely of films. Or a song. Or a book. Or the mutterings of a homeless man on the Santa Monica pier. Or something whispered in an ear by a loved one.
and the Word was with God,
and the Word WAS God."
The point is, once I heard The Word, and experienced it, I had absolutely no interest in wasting fours of my Sunday morning sweating in a three piece suit listening to some dude PRETENDING to speak it.
I once told my Mom that there are three kinds of clergy:
- those who are actually "called"
- those who want to be rock stars
- and those are desperately trying to fix the colossal messes in their lives by getting as close to God as possible
The clergy aren't the point. And neither is the church.
I once floated the idea among people on my old e-mail list about selling all those old church cathedrals and just having prayer/Bible study in our living rooms, and people literally looked at me like I'd grown an extra head.
(or, dare I say, a third eye?)
I honestly stopped looking for a church home because, in the end, I decided I didn't need it. Yes, it's great to have a common place & companions for worship, but, ultimately, I thought the whole point of the Protestant reformation was that you didn't need another person in order to commune with the divine.
If sin is a state of separation from God, and God is in all things, including ourselves, then isn't the notion of an intermediary between yourself and God the very definition of sin?
I've been reading "No God But God: the Origins, Evolution, and Future of Islam" by Reza Aslan, and he makes the point about how, so often, in many different religions, including both Islam AND Christianity, the churches and institutions that are created by the followers of prophets are very often the antithesis of everything that the prophets themselves actually represented.
In many cases, I think we imprison ourselves in the forms and rituals and institutions we've constructed around The Word, so much so that we begin to think that the church IS The Word.
But it's not.
The Word is spoken every single day. But it's not shouted from a rooftop or screamed through a megaphone.
The voice that speaks The Word is small.
And still.
And sometimes, that's all I need to be to hear it.
Which brings me to this article in Salon, from a former nun who's now written a book that looks at the so-called "Axial Age" - a period in history when the foundations over virtually ALL the world's religions were founded. And, oddly enough, all these different religious traditions, from Aristotle to Confucius to Buddha to Zoroaster and his philosophical decendents, Jesus and Mohammed, all seem to be saying the same thing.
The Word can be written in many different alphabets & syllables. But the sound is still the same.
Check out her article - it's long, but WELL worth the read.
I, for one, have added her book to my Amazon wish list.
March 30, 2004
Dark Corners
So, I live in Hollywood.
Interesting segue, I know.
Those of you who are familiar with Los Angeles geography know that there is very little that is glamorous about the part of town that bears the moniker of the entertainment industry.
Case in point: roughly 3 hours ago, I heard a series of gunshots from about a block away from my bathroom window. Now, when I say a series of gunshots, I mean three distinct bursts of of about three to ten shots each. I know these were gunshots because the next sound I heard about 10 minutes later was a police helicopter zooming into position above my neighborhood.
What's ironic to me is that the bullets seemed to emmanate from the north side of Franklin Avenue, which I would normally consider the demarcation line between those of us still storming the gates of the industry and the hillside homes of those who've long since laid claim to the palace china. You'd think that The Hungry would be more likely to cap off a few rounds.
Then again, Charles Manson did lead his entourage to pick a house in those same hills at random to continue the second night of their killing spree.
Maybe I shouldn't invest in any real estate up there when I blow up.
Did I mention that the movie I just happened to be watching about an hour before all Hell broke loose in my neigborhood was The Silence of the Lambs?
This is on my mind because I just watched an interview on Charlie Rose with the producers of a documentary appearing on PBS this Thursday night called "The Ghosts of Rwanda", following the legacy of the genocide in that country, ten years later.
In April of 1994, I was a junior in college, recovering from a NSBE National Convention in Pittsburgh where I really thought I might have partied enough that I might never need to go to another party again for the rest of my life.
Needless to say, that wasn't the case.
Meanwhile, as I was reminiscing about a girl from Rutgers-NSBE who was way too fine to have such a heavy Jersey accent, half a world away, a some ethnic Hutu men paid a visit to their sister's house and proceeded to murder their young nieces & nephews with weapons ranging from machetes to hammer claws because they were half-Tutsi.
There's a whole lot I don't know about the Rwandan genocide. I haven't the slightest idea what the difference is between a Hutu and a Tutsi. And what little I did learn, I probably got from the "Sense and Antisense" episode of Chris Carter's Millenium, which, in and of itself was a very heavy exploration into the mental and spiritual costs of human evil.
Apparently, the Hutu government had enough of a problem with the Tutsi minority in that country that they armed the militias and ordered them to kill ALL the Tutsis in the country. By the time the killing stopped, they managed to kill about half of them. The number of corpses were estimated to be between 800,000 and one million.
Now, by shear numbers, the Holocaust has it beat. But the Nazis had really industrialized the process, literally creating death engines, where bunches of people were horded into a room, gassed, incinerated, and then blown out smokestacks in ash so thick it looked like it was snowing. As far as the actual executioners were concerned, they just had to press a button and brush off their shoulders at the end of the day. The Shoah was all the more horrible because of it's utter banality.
Rwanda was massacre the old fashioned way. Every one of those 800,000 to one million people was individually stabbed, bludgeoned, and/or raped, and not necessarily in that order. At its height, the death squads were said to be able to kill as many as a thousand people every twenty minutes.
There is a moment in the documentary where one of the few UN peacekeepers who actually stayed as the killing began recalls a meeting he had with one of the death squads, in an attempt to negotiate an end to the massacre. These men came to the meeting with fresh blood still on their shirts. He says that, as he looked into their eyes, he saw nothing but complete and utter darkness. "The face of evil", in his words.
I'm reminded of Quint's speech about the U.S.S. Indianapolis in Jaws:
"And the thing about a shark is he's got lifeless eyes. Black eyes. Like a doll's eyes. When he comes at ya, he doesn't even seem to be livin'... 'til he bites ya, and those black eyes roll over white and then... ah then you hear that terrible high-pitched screamin'."
Now, that may or may not be a rhetorical florish. I can't really say because I've never come face to face with a man who's taken a coffee break from killing his neighbors with a machete, non-stop, for the better part of a month. I suspect that it might be a somewhat life-altering experience. One would think that you'd almost have to start seeing other human beings as something other than human. Like, perhaps, walking, talking slabs of meat. Or food. Or puddy.
Of course, at that point, you yourself have stopped being human in the process, right?
Many of these men who participated in the genocide were not trained killers or hardened criminals or anything of that nature. Did they have families to go home to, wives who'd wash, press, and fold the blood-stained shirt? And, after wallowing in the flesh of their victims all day long, could they draw the distinction between that and lovemaking with said dutiful wife?
But, at a deeper level, acts of evil are committed on a daily basis right under our noses. I recently found one of those websites that lists if any convicted sex offenders reside in your neighborhood. Apparently, there are three or four guys, like, on my block.
There are kids everywhere in my apartment complex. Who knows what's happening to them behind closed doors. Do those same people have these dead eyes? Would I know a killer or a rapist or a whatever just by looking at them?
Anyway, I could pontificate on the nature of evil ad naseum. However, I strongly recommend watching PBS Thursday night. I have a sense that there's alot to be learned. In addition to the filmmakers, Charlie Rose also had the author of this book about the genocide on his panel.
I don't really have a point to all of this, other than, perhaps this:
I recently had an argument with a friend of mine that began as a discussion about The Passion of the Christ but branched off into religion in general. One of his complaints was that he didn't like the exclusive nature of organized religions.
To which, I would say this - there are some things that are simply not OK, such as, for instance, hacking biracial members of your own family to death with an ax.
Of course, for Christians, our challenge is to find a way to offer forgiveness and even fellowship when faced with the horror. But how can you do that when you look into someone else's eyes and only see the abyss?
November 18, 2003
Passion Play
The New York Post seems to have illicitly gotten their hands on a copy of the latest cut of Mel Gibson's "The Passion of Christ" and given it to a broad cross section of folks for review. In looking at this, and other responses from people to the as-yet unreleased film, it seems to me that your level of offense from the film is inversely proportional to how close you are to Gibson's own beliefs on the religious spectrum. It seems that many devote Christians don't seem to see anything in it that would offend or castigate Jews, while a number of Jews who have seen it are VERY worried about the less forward-thinking members of the Christian community taking this film as new marching orders to beat up some Semites.
Since I haven't seen the film, I can't speak on it. Although, as a firm believer in karma, I think the fact that Gibson's Jesus, actor Jim Caviezel, was the SECOND person to be struck by lightning during the course of filming is telling, to say the least. At the end of the day, I'm curious. I want to see it, so I'll probably check it out.
Having said that, the one thing that struck me about all the statements on the film in the Post (and, in other places) is that everyone seems focused on the brutality & violence of the Crucifixion. I find myself reminded of an Easter sermon where the pastor took great pains to illustrate the gory details of Christ's death, as if to say "he endured all that for you, so don't make his death in vain."
Somehow, this all seems to miss the point, to me. The point wasn't that he suffered a horrible, blood drenched, prolonged death. The point was that he died. Period. And was then resurrected. I once had a theory that the whole exercise of the Christ, of the divine becoming incarnate in the flesh, was that God had to comprehend and experience sin in order to abolish it. If sin is a state of being separate from God, God would have to shear off a piece of his or herself in order to comprehend that. Which raises a number of interesting issues for me. First of all, it suggests that, omnipotence does not mean the absence of process. Yes, God may be capable of doing anything, but everything has a procedure to be followed to accomplish it. If God's goal is to save humanity from sin, that very process may have a very specific set of inputs, procedures, outcomes, and, most importantly, timetables.
Also, if God/Jesus could have died in any manner of his or her choosing to experience death (the opposite of omnipresence, perhaps), why choose a public, brutal death? Could it be because it was an image and a story that will never leave our minds?
Anyway, whatever flaws there may be in Mad Max's movie, I think it will at least get a number of Christians to scrutinize their own faith. Like I said, I'm curious.
June 11, 2003
Unloaded
The national censorship board in Egypt has banned The Matrix Reloaded for fear that it's quasi-religious explorations into the nature of creation, existance, and free will may, in their words, "cause a crisis" in the public. They apparently don't seem to realize that the people who may have their fragile grip on reality shattered by the Wachowski's flick will only see this act of censorship as control put in place by malevolent sentient programs designed to keep the populace docile while leaching off their bioelectric energy. Some people.
May 15, 2003
Biblical Interpretation Quote of the Day
"I wanted to ask you a couple of questions while I have you here. I'm interested in selling my youngest daughter into slavery as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. She's a Georgetown sophomore, speaks fluent Italian, always cleared the table when it was her turn. What would a good price for her be? While thinking about that, can I ask another? My Chief of Staff Leo McGarry insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly says he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself or is it OK to call the police? Here's one that's really important because we've got a lot of sports fans in this town: touching the skin of a dead pig makes one unclean. Leviticus 11:7. If they promise to wear gloves, can the Washington Redskins still play football? Can Notre Dame? Can West Point? Does the whole town really have to be together to stone my brother John for planting different crops side by side? Can I burn my mother in a small family gathering for wearing garments made from two different threads? Think about those questions, would you?"
- fictional President of the United States Josiah Bartlet (Martin Sheen) of "The West Wing", trying to explain to a group of reactionary religious conservatives exactly why we do not and should not live in a theocracy defined by a strict interpretation of the Bible.
Aaron Sorkin's last month on the show reminded me why I used to love it. I mean, who can beat John Goodman as Newt Gingrich?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)