Living Friendship Dying

Since no one has taken up the torch, I'll post an article to discuss for the next few weeks. A few of you posted your Sunday events last weekend. My Sunday was a carefree day of drinking beer on a beautiful beach, a relaxing treat about an hour away from where I am living. On the way home we saw a terrible accident; it had been a motorcycle and a car in a head on collision. There were three dead bodies, two stacked on top of each other, and a third sprawled out face down on the ground with rocks piled up all around him, presumably so cars would go around him. The car looked like a giant rock had been dropped from the sky onto the hood and windshield. Of course, when you see something like this at any time, it is tragic and moving. But this time it spun me into a very contemplative mood, which I am still in. 

I've often contemplated what it means to die, but it has been very different from such an isolated context, isolated from my friends and family, I mean. Today, I read another W. Berry article, "Stand by Me." I'll let you draw your own conclusions....

art + life

when Kevin and Nicki were planning to get married, Troy came to visit us. we were so curious--who was this woman Kev was marrying? Troy told us of the troubles she was having at the Christian school, how people thought she was a crazy feminist environmentalist. i said, i think i'll like her; she sounds like me! then Troy laughed out loud and said, you're not an environmentalist!

so maybe it's not a surprise that i was most drawn to the art parts of the Reece article. mostly to this one line that rubbed me the wrong way:

To raise one's experiences to the level of art is to make them worthy of contemplation.

no, no! life is always already worthy of contemplation. and the making of art isn't something that happens on some other level. this sort of separation between our experience and art is the same split that let's us imagine ourselves as separate from nature. the same motion that leaves our churches empty of poems.

i've been reading bits and snatches of The Maytrees after Mabel falls asleep for her nap. it's so rich! in just a page or two, my mind is full, spinning with Dillard's words and the crazy way she turns a phrase. one of the blurbs in the back of the book says, Annie Dillard is one of those people who seems to be more fully alive than most of us. but you know what? she gets to be just as alive as me. true, she has found a habit of being that nourishes her spirit and work, and she knows her craft. but she's exactly as alive as we each get to be.

here's to a new year full of contemplation. full of walks outside at twilight with crows overhead. full of books and glasses of wine and ideas and bold beginnings. full of sketches and songs and notebooks. full of bread rising and children growing.

alive. awake. full.

Year of the Cobra

Can we just discuss the symbolism of the puzzle Kevin sent me for Christmas?

Year of the Cobra

have a listen

http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/programs/2009/robert-coles/

Sunday morning

Am I beating a dead horse? Nicki is ushering us forward into the new year, the year of the ox, but I thought that I would try pull together my response just under the deadline. It is Sunday morning and I have been singing some songs, drinking coffee and watching Fran roll around in the wet (very wet!) grass. Where else should I be right now? Am I missing something? I guess my question is:

“How should someone trying to study the present and the natural world go about finding a faith community?"

I could say that the holidays and travels are my excuses for not responding to this article, but that would only be partly true. I found Eric’s comments to be very useful to me, but I also realized that in reading everyone’s response to this article that I am, maybe, coming from a different place than most people in this group. Trying to gather rather than shed. I did not have a very specific and guided church upbringing and my father is definitely not a pastor. I was born into a mid-western Catholic family and, like many families in this faith today, I have not been to a service in quite a few years despite that fact that I have a Catholic Church within walking distance of my house. My grandparents still go to church and Packer games regularly, both being equally sacred. We discussed Garrison Keillor tidbits more frequently than scripture and on Christmas night of this year, my mom, sister and I gathered together to celebrate the sacred holiday by reading ‘Santaland’ by David Sedaris. It is hilarious if you have not read it, but maybe not the most appropriate thing to do on this day.

I have to admit that I had originally bought this edition of Orion to read an article by Kathleen Dean Moore. I heard her speak when I lived in Corvallis and I was very intrigued by her acceptance of the “secular sacred.” She does not strive to look beyond this place and seems content to be an authentic observer of the elusive landscape around us. As a biologist I found this fascinating, but I realized that I could not agree with her completely. Although I had been denying myself a spiritual community life and scoffing at the current state of the Catholic Church in our country, I still believe in, for lack of a better word, more. I have always felt there to be something more in this world, but I never had the language to articulate it. I like to do science because I find that constant discovery and questioning is humbling. I am able to find mystery and inspiration through the microscope, and I know that there will be ALWAYS be more that we don’t know. The questions are useful.

I have tried, rather superficially, to explore other faiths. The philosophies of Buddhism and Judaism appeal to me, but I have realized that I can not and do not want to convert from my pseudo-Christian upbringing. It is who I am, so the task that I have put on myself is to re-understand this foundation. And to my surprise I have found some wonderful teachers, poets mainly. Also, Marcus Borg’s writing has helped me tremendously to look at the bible as metaphor and myth. I have always felt conflicted about how to approach the bible, especially as the wealth of historical criticism has cast tremendous doubt on many presumed facts. He, however, has helped me to look back to the bible and Christianity for what I need and I think that that kind of personal interpretation is alright for the time being. It is a transformative religion. Jesus as a teacher was a radical feminist and humanitarian and his guidance of how to live a life of love and compassion are invaluable to me. I can appreciate this world around me without him, but humans have to be reminded of how to treat each other and serve each other and the world. I can not learn to forgive in the laboratory—it is too sterile. We will not be able to cultivate true compassion through science, no matter how interconnected we may find systems be in this world. This is the strongest message from Christianity. I have also found the writing of Andrew Harvey to be useful, especially his emphasis of the need for more cultivation of the sacred feminine in Christian thought.

Annie Dillard writes, “It could be that God has not absconded, but spread, as our vision and understanding of the universe have spread, to a fabric of spirit and sense so grand and subtle, so powerful in a new way, that we can feel blindly of its hem.” When asked if she has had a religious awakening, Marilynne Robinson replied, “A mystical experience would be wasted on me. Ordinary things have always seemed numinous to me.” I think that this is the 'enduring God' that Eric alludes to in his article.

If I have found the natural world as a source of inspiration, how do I nurture and carry this ‘seeing’ into a faith community? Can I find a church that will accept me if I do not take the bible literally all the time? I like how Kevin said that our religions need to leave room for "growing in our belonging" As I start to feel (slightly) more settled in my young adult life, I like the idea of growing into a specific tradition. But can we introduce poetry into our Sunday morning discussions once in awhile?

I know that a new article is on the way, but I am curious to hear from the rest of the people in the group about what thought and ideas this article brought up in them.

What are you doing on this Sunday morning?

time for a new read...?

hi everyone, 

i think it is about time to get a new article in circulation.  so, if you wanted to post something on the first one, now is the time.  

does anyone have something in mind for the next go 'round?  

faith and tradition

the longer i wait to write this, the more tangents seem to keep distracting me as i process, so i'll try to keep this somewhat short and  connected...

for me, this piece really breaks down to the concept of special revelation vs. general revelation (revelation of Truth through the bible vs. revelation through nature).   many, if not most, christians agree that both are equally important.  however,  after working in a "christian" school and being blasted by parents for suggesting that some people believed that Noah's ark was a teaching myth, or that some bible believing scientists think it possible that dinoflagellates might have caused waters to turn blood red, it became obvious to me that christians, on the whole, do not really rely on general revelation to inform their faith.  if it is in the bible, it is TRUE, factual, real-- if it was a myth, clearly GOD would have said it was a myth.  and i have to wonder what would happen if we did open up our faith experience to include more mystical, experiential theology.  

but-- we are a logical, research-driven society.  and in the church we justify the things we cannot fully reconcile with phrases like, "we don't understand why this is, but we still believe, and we have faith that GOD understands..." (which is roughly how the sermon ended last sunday).

the part reece wrote about his pastoring father and grandfather resonated a little painfully for me.  i often wondered, in the final days of my father's life, if he questioned his devotion to the cause of christianity.  to his parishioners, he was devout until the end, always saying that whatever happened, he was "in God's hands".  but at home, he just seemed tired and a little afraid (maybe as much for my well-being as for himself).  unfortunately, the manifestation of a cancer such as his can cloud the mind as much as it harms the body, so I didn't receive any final spiritual counsel or encouragement from my father, as i would have hoped for.  but, strangely enough, just after we decided on this article, i received an email from an old friend, part of which reads:

"When your father was first sick, we were standing in the kitchen when he told you. You went downstairs by yourself and he and I spoke. I have told you before of how greatly I was impressed with your father that night. I have also told you that the entire episode threw me into a deep personal crisis - largely focused on seeking the strength to die well and with purpose...and more importantly to acknowledge that the biggest reason God tolerates evil and suffering is that it allows him to show He is God. We can't bring good from evil. Only God can do that. Only God can bring order from chaos. Only God can bring joy from suffering. "

purpose-- purpose is what my father's faith provided him.  and joy, and suffering, and love and lots of other things.  like andy wrote, it made his life make sense.  and it makes my life make sense, much of the time.  except when i start asking the difficult questions... which is why, for many (including myself), it is easier to avoid those questions that create chaos out of a calm, safe theology.  

i picture my faith, my theology, as a brick wall that has been built over the course of my life.  some bricks will stay in place forever.  the bricks of tradition are sacred to me.  this article and the onset and passing of the season of advent, really made me ponder traditions.  i never thought i would consider myself a "traditional christian" in the way that perhaps a Jew might be Jewish but not really practicing, but they still eat ladkes at hanukkah and know choice yiddish phrases.  in some ways, i feel myself drifting in that direction, holding fast to traditions i find significant, but becoming also allowing my faith to become informed outside of that tradition.  as new bricks are added to the wall, some old will fall away.  i want art, and poetry and nature to be much more a part of my own spirituality than i saw in the lives of my forefathers and mothers.  but perhaps art and poetry and nature were seen as different things in different days.  perhaps my grandmother appreciated the art of the quilt, my grandfather the art of the workshop or the poetry of a sacred hymn.  perhaps being connected to the land for food and survival made my uncles feel more reliant on a holy creator GOD.  

i don't think what reece is saying is terribly new, nor do i think the issues he addresses are limited to those who have been steeped in fundamentalist christianity. be it through art, craft, music, poetry, or  nature, i think our whole society has made light of our need to be in contact with the beauty of the earth.