I read a definition of a term

Context
I'm reading A History of the End of the World by Jonathan Kirsch. I'm doing this because I'm thinking about attending a seminar on apocalyptic literature given by Dr. Susan Brayford, a professor emeritus at Centenary College, and she mentioned possibly using this book as a jumping off point.

Anyway, this footnote appears fairly early in the text: "The abbreviation B.C.E. (Before the Common Era) is the equivalent of B.C. (Before Christ), and C.E. (Common Era) is the equivalent of A.D. (Anno Domini, or "In the Year of Our Lord"). The abbreviations B.C.E. and C.E. are used by scholars to avoid the theological implications of B.C. and A.D., and I have used them here for the same reason."

Commentary
I don't care much for this book. I find it astonishingly disrespectful of people (like me) who take the Bible seriously and downright dismissive of the author of the book of Revelation. Usually I believe life is too short to read books I don't like, but I'm continuing with this one for two reasons:

1) It's an Interlibrary Loan. Since the library took extra effort to get it for me, I figure I should give extra effort to getting through it.

2) I am actually learning stuff, like how various apocalyptic prophesies in the Bible compare and contrast with each other.

All the above was to let you know I might be predisposed to snarkiness while reading this book. Here are the two thoughts that crossed my mind when I read the definition of B.C.E.:

1) If you're counting time forward and backward from what historic calendar makers considered to be Jesus's birthdate, calling it something different may avoid the theological implications of that, but the cultural ones are still glaringly obvious: there was some kind of history-changing event 2012 years ago.

2) Does the author really think there's anyone reading his book who won't know what B.C.E. means? This is an historical analysis of the impact of Revelation with lots and lots of references. I don't think people are going to pick it up unless they've at least seen one college classroom or done an equivalent amount of reading. And if any of that study has been in the realm of history, they've seen B.C.E. before.

What did you see today?

I saw a billboard

Context
On my way to work this morning I saw a Lamar billboard with a Christmas theme. Today is October 26th.

Commentary
This billboard bothered me for two reasons. One pertains to what Gregg Easterbrook, author of the wonderful Tuesday Morning Quarterback column for ESPN, calls "Christmas Creep." This is the habit commercial enterprises have of trying to jump start the Christmas season earlier and earlier each year.

I myself refuse to be taken in. During October I celebrate Halloween. The next day I start thinking about Thanksgiving, and only when the last NFL game is completed on that day will I contemplate Christmas. Every holiday deserves its due and I will not have them running over each other!

Quick digression: people often ask me if I'm ready for Christmas. Only if I know them really well do I say what immediately comes to mind: "Ready for the birth of the Savior? Oh, yes!"

The other thing I didn't like about the billboard is that it was a billboard for a billboard company. I understand that everyone feels the need to advertise in order to drum up business, but if Lamar couldn't find anyone interested in using that particular space, why not just take the billboard down? It's not like there aren't 30,000 more of them out there.

What did you see today?

I saw the second response to a change

Context
I am the system administrator for the integrated library system at my workplace, which is what we use to electronically catalog and circulate items, as well as keep track of patron records. Our vendor for this product is SirsiDynix. Over the years, SirsiDynix has tried to foster a user community by maintaining listservs for individual pieces of their software.

SirsiDynix recently announced the creation a bunch of new listservs, because they've expanded their product line in several new directions. This caused an outcry among users, who wrote to the system administrators listserv (because it is our main method of communication outside of conferences) saying they couldn't possibly keep up with so many new lists and there should be more consolidation. Today, another set of voices emerged talking about the advantages of keeping separated lists for separate products and giving tips to the first group about managing e-mail. I cannot link to any of this correspondence, as these discussions are considered proprietary to SirsiDynix.

Commentary
When the aforementioned people got upset about the new listservs I thought, "Really? Is it that bad?", and waited for cooler heads to prevail. In my opinion, they did; there hasn't been any more back and forth on this issue; just "Oh, this is awful!" then, "No, it isn't; here's why:" and nothing further.

I've noticed this a lot lately. When new information appears, there seem to be two sets of people: reactors, who say the first thing that comes to their heads, often proved hyperbolic or downright erroneous later, and analyzers, who look at what the reactors say and come up with a reasoned response. I'd like to say that the analyzers are the only ones doing anything useful, but looking at the dynamic, I'm not sure that's true. The analyzers need the reactors, because otherwise they won't say anything.

Here's an example: an analyzer might look at the Occupy Wall Street protesters and say, "This is a group of people that is displeased about the direction the country is going; they're not terribly organized, but they seem OK with that; they're generally harmless." The thing is, I never heard anyone say those things about OWS until after I heard people say the protest was going to change everything, the revolution was underway, and the end of the world was at hand. I think analyzers think their well-reasoned viewpoint is the prevailing one, so they don't bother to say anything until the reactors have proved them wrong.

Well, not proved them wrong, exactly. I don't think reactors are more numerous than analyzers, just louder and more obvious at the beginning of a timeline. In fact, I think many reactors turn into analyzers over time. I know I do; my first response to information may be spontaneous and visceral, but after a while I often come to see and express a viewpoint that is more considered and transcendant. I don't think either response is correct per se; there seems to be a yinyang quality at work here that is worth preserving.

What did you see today?

I heard the Apostles' Creed

Context
I'm in Houston today, so per my usual custom, I went to worship at Christ the King Lutheran church. I used to be a Lutheran and this is the church I got married in. Lutherans always say a creed at some point during any communion service; today it was the Apostles' Creed. Quakers, on the other hand, are very non-creedal.

Commentary
I think the main reason Quakers are non-creedal is because of the feeling that creeds create an exclusive atmosphere. We're concerned that we would be saying, in essence, "If you don't believe this, you don't belong here."

Lately, when we talk about beliefs at my Quaker meeting, I feel like Friends are saying something beyond just: "We shouldn't have a set creed as a group." We seem to have moved on to: "We shouldn't have any strongly held religious beliefs as individuals, either." This perspective says our beliefs are so often proved spirit-killing and wrong that it is a bad idea to hold them at all. Better to just have faith in God in general and not be married to specific theological ideas.

As I was speaking the Apostles' Creed today, I realized I don't agree. For one thing, I actually believe everything in the Apostles' Creed. I don't think that gives me exclusive access to God, but I'm not going to pretend I don't believe those words just to make others feel comfortable.

Moreover, I don't think I can have faith in God without believing certain things. Here are four that seem pretty bedrock to me:

1) I believe that God is powerful.

2) I believe that the things I see constitute the work of God.

3) I believe that God has suffered.

4) I believe that God will ultimately bring justice to our exceedingly evil world.

Without these beliefs, having faith in God seems pointless to me. At its most primitive level, my trust is predicated on an expected outcome: the redemption of the world. If I believed that the march of history was just going to continue on its current path, I would commit ritual suicide. If I didn't care one way or the other, I wouldn't bother trying to learn about God and serve Him.

What's funny about the current discussion of beliefs in our meeting is that one of the ways we encourage people to discern whether Quakerism would be a good fit for them is to take this quiz at beliefnet.com. Unsurprisingly, most of the questions are about one's beliefs.

What did you hear today?

I saw ideas about education

Context
I'm still reading What Would Google Do? In the section on Google U, Jarvis posits that most useful education is self-motivated and self-directing, so the current educational model of coming to a specific classroom and learning what the teacher tells you is hopelessly outdated. He allows that our schools may have a socialization function as well as an educational one, but he thinks there are plenty of other communities and experiences that could fulfill the same role.

Commentary
OK, now Jarvis has wandered into my field, so I'm bound to get touchy. Actually, I don't want to talk about education per se; I want to dive into that "socialization" thing. It seems to me that when Jarvis looks at it, he thinks of socialization as the process of helping a student find a community, literally giving them a social life in some respect.

However, that's not entirely what we expect out of schooling, especially public schooling, in this country. We don't just want students to find some community to belong to, we want them to specifically belong to the American community. The most obvious example of our attempts to create Americans is the civics class, but there are others. Take science labs. Performing experiments in school tells our kids that they shouldn't just take someone's word for something. Or gym class, where 8-year-olds learn some of the same lessons about discipline and teamwork they would if they attended military boot camp.

In fact, the biggest battles we fight over education in this country are about what "America" is. Are we a Christian people who should be taught about God in the classroom? Are we an egalitarian people who believe everyone should learn together, regardless of skills or background? Is free speech or good discipline a more important characteristic of Americans? General school board meetings are fun, but if you really want to get a lesson in civics, find a way to get yourself on a curriculum or textbook choosing committee. Then you'll really learn what this country is all about, at least in your neighbors' eyes.

Does it make you uncomfortable when I talk about school as indoctrination? That is, in and of itself, an American thing. We pride ourselves on being free, independent, self-deterministic types. And, to be fair, the fact that we debate the issues mentioned above on a regular basis, rather than being dictated to by a small group of people or a time-honored tradition, speaks to how free we are. And also to why debate techniques are frequently taught in American schools.

What did you see today?

I saw a story about violence

Context
I'm still working through John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath. A passage I read today talked about the Akron Rubber Strike, and how part of the reason for its peaceful resolution was the fact that the striking workers made a show of being armed and organized.

Commentary
I used to plow through books, but that is no longer the case, possibly because of the number of things that divide my attention. And it's not only reading that suffers. During my attempt to write this entry I have removed a kitten from my sleeve seven times, overheard a conversation between my neighbor and her child (my windows are open) and played with the dog and let her out. And back in. My progress through the Grapes of Wrath is not helped in the slightest by the number of times I put the book down and go "huh!"

Steinbeck seems to be making a clear point in his discussion of the Akron incident: vigilantes in Akron were perfectly willing to violently put an end to the strike up until the time they realized the workers might fight back. Then they backed down.

I can see the reasonableness of this approach. No point in fighting if you can't guarantee yourself a victory, after all. In the U.S. we try to make sure we're never in this situation by "acting against emerging threats before they are fully formed," which is known as "preemptive self-defense." Even the Just War Doctrine (#2309 at this link), which is supposed to give a good ethical grounding to death and destruction, requires "serious prospects of success," a.k.a. "Don't be a David going up against a Goliath."

So there you have it. If you engage in violence, you run the risk of either getting hurt yourself or looking like the worst kind of coward by beating up on an obviously weaker opponent. Can you see why I'm a pacifist?

What did you see today?

I saw an e-mail from a Friend

Context
A member of the Quaker meeting I attend sent an e-mail today introducing a woman who is planning to join us for the first time on Saturday. We are a small meeting, so new people are very noticeable.

Commentary
"Go therefore an make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you." These words are almost the last things Jesus says in the gospel according to Matthew (New Revised Standard Version) and are referred to as The Great Commission.

No passage in the Bible has more power to both inspire and terrify Christians. We know that Jesus has done great things for us and theoretically we want to share that good news with everyone, but the practice is often lacking. I've been sampling Jim Henderson's excellent book Evangelism Without Additives, and it has a lot to say about both our discomfiture and our ineffectualness.

Henderson talks a lot about methodology. I'd like to talk a little about goals. It seems to me that one of the sub-goals of our evangelism practices is convincing someone to come to our worship services. Why is that? I'm pretty sure we don't actually believe God only works within a given set of walls or timeframe, so why are we so concerned with bringing people into our building at a certain time instead of taking the love of God to them? Is it laziness? Do we feel too vulnerable out there in the world and want to return to our comfortable surroundings? Or is it a simple way of keeping score, where a big crowd at church equals successful completion of God's mission?

Whatever our reasoning, I don't think it's sound in light of what Jesus actually commanded us to do. The reason I don't think so comes from Jesus' actual last words in Matthew: "And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age." Not a single word about us having to come to Him, and He's the Master. Imagine what we servants are called to do.

What did you see today?

I saw routing flags

Context
Because Shreve Memorial Library has 20 branches and uses a hub-and-spoke model to move materials around(similar to this one, but we try not to lose your luggage ;-)), we have pre-printed, color-coded routing flags that we stick in and sometimes on materials that say where they're going. The problem is, once the item arrives at its destination, the flag becomes temporarily useless. Nobody is trying to send things from the Main Library to the Main Library, after all. So each branch, when they've received a sizable number of these things with their name on them, bundles the flags up and sends them back to the Main Library hub. Our Interlibrary Loans Department is normally responsible for routing both the traveling material and the flags themselves.

I occasionally receive items (correspondence or pieces of hardware I need to look at) with Main Library flags attached to them. Since I receive so few I don't bother to give them to Interlibrary Loans; I just drop them off at the next branch I happen to visit. So I was looking at the three or four flags sitting on my desk awaiting redistribution today.

Commentary
I am not much of an environmentalist. I like to think this is not a character flaw on my part, but just a question of some other aspects of life taking higher priority. However, I do like the "reduce, reuse, recycle" mantra and try to apply it when I can. That's why I like the routing flags; they are single scraps of paper that can be reused over and over again.

So there's something that some of my coworkers do that drives me straight up a wall: they write my name and/or my floor on the flag, which renders it un-reusable. Oh sure, I'm going to be sent more mail at some point in the future, but no one's going to hold on to the routing flag with my name on it waiting for that eventuality. The floor designation's unnecessary anyway; it's Interlibrary Loans' job to know where everyone is in the Main Library. And if you want to attach my name, use a separate piece of paper; don't invalidate the routing flag! See, I told you I get up in arms about this.

So as I was looking at the unsullied, still-reusable flags on my desk, I was wondering why people don't just "do right" in this respect. It's something I frequently wonder about and I've come to the following conclusion: it's because they don't see the world the way I do. There is some quantity of people that don't look at an item that can easily be reused and say to themselves, "I should do everything I can to make that happen."

My first instinct in situations like this is to ponder what I can do to make people change. 45 years of life experience have actually taught me the answer: nothing. The good news is, recent religious exploration has convinced me that it's not only impossible to make everyone conform to my view of the world, it's not even desirable.

God is vast and vastly creative. No one person can perceive, appreciate and participate in all that He is doing. So our different ways of seeing the world are a gift we can offer to the Lord and to each other. For example, when I interact with a friend who thinks airline travel is immoral because of the ecological impact, I get to learn that just owning a Prius isn't enough to call myself an environmentalist, and she gets to see that people can hold other priorities in good faith, like wanting to build community through travel. Everybody gets to grow!

Share with me what you saw today!

I saw a discussion of repatriation attempts during the Holocaust

Context
I am reading the proceedings of Second Yad Vashem International Historical Conference in a volume entitled Rescue Attempts during the Holocaust. You can purchase this book through the Yad Vashem website, but I'm not sure how many mainstream booksellers have it. I got my copy at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C. Currently I'm reading a report on attempts by President Roosevelt and others to repatriate European Jews during the Holocaust period. The only successful massive migration took place after the war, when Britain loosened restrictions on entering Palestine. Shortly thereafter, the state of Israel was born.

Commentary
I bought this book after touring the Holocaust Museum because frankly, I was depressed. For as long as I've been aware of the Shoah (the TV miniseries The Holocaust was my first exposure) the question has tortured me: why didn't anybody do anything? So I needed to cling to the idea that someone tried.

I didn't actually start reading the book until ten years later, which is probably a good thing. Notice that the title isn't "Successful Rescue Attempts during the Holocaust." It's interesting reading, but not exactly inspirational.

I find myself particularly puzzled by this chapter on repatriation, because it keeps being couched as a solution to the Jewish "problem". What I keep asking myself is, "How did this happen?" Germany (and Poland and Hungary, etc.) was the Jews' home; how did they become a "problem" that needed solving? The answer is as simple as it is chilling: they became a problem because the dominant culture decided they were. From that point on, no amount of "See here now, old fellow, you're being irrational," could save a single person from the concentration camps, so the rest of the world was forced to adopt the "solving the Jewish problem" approach.

Which brings me to the Palestinians. It is considered something of an internet truism that once you bring comparisons to Nazism into any argument you've lost it (quick capsule of this idea here), but I'm going to claim my right as an historian (B.A. 1987, Rice University) to say that no situation is ever completely unprecedented, and valid historical comparisons are educational regardless of the emotional content behind them. So, onward!

For various reasons, the state of Israel has decided that Palestinians are a problem and that they don't want them anywhere near Israeli citizens. This is remarkably similar to the early rhetoric the Nazi regime used about the Jews.

Just to be clear, here's what I'm not saying: I don't believe the Israelis have any intention of sending the Palestinians to concentration camps and exterminating them. I'm also not saying that Israel doesn't have legitimate security concerns about at least some of the Palestinians living in their midst.

But here's what I am saying: if you time-warped a person from the Warsaw ghetto to some of areas Palestinians live in today, he/she would see some points of commonality. I'm also saying this: very few people start off intending to be an oppressor. They start off defending themselves from a perceived threat. From there it takes very few steps to decide that it's appropriate to do whatever you have to in order to "solve your problem."

What did you see today?

I heard a sermon on the prodigal son

Context
I'm in Dallas today, so I attended a worship service at King of Glory Lutheran Church. Pastor Jon Bustard preached on, among other things, the prodigal son story from Luke. The text and a recording of his sermon of the week usually get posted to the King of Glory website, but as of this writing, they're not up yet.

Commentary
I think Pastor Bustard preached a great sermon today. That's really saying something coming from me because I hate preaching. It's even more surprising because, being having been a Christian all my life, I've probably heard at least 25 prodigal son sermons. But this one actually made me think about a new aspect of the story, because Pastor Bustard was challenging us to be involved in God's recovery of the rest of His prodigal children, instead of just emphasizing how happy we are that God found us.

Rationalist that I am, if I'm going to be involved in solving a problem, I need to know what causes it. Pastor Bustard's sermon made clear to me that there are two reasons the prodigal son stays away from his father, and that both of those apply to people who stay away from church today:

1) Guilt. Late in the story, the prodigal son realizes what he's done wrong and is convinced his father will never want to take him back. Today, there are many people who think, "I can't go to church. Who I am and what I've done are too awful to be in the holy presence of God." This is not true, but I think as Christians we forget that. After all, how often do we seek out child molesters to join our congregation?

2) Lack of perceived need. This is the one that really stood out for me today. As I was saying to my husband, "you can't catch the prodigal son when he's received his inheritance and he's walking away." It's kind of like the first step in Alcoholics Anonymous: "we admitted we were powerless over alcohol — that our lives had become unmanageable." Only when one's life becomes unmanageable (like when one's out slopping pigs and starts wanting their food) does one really need Christ.

This second reason made me feel worried. If people I knew had that lack of perceived need for years and years and constantly told me how unnecessary religion was in their lives, would I get lulled into inaction and not be prepared or available when their need suddenly came up and punched them in the stomach? I hope not, and here are two ways I can think of to prevent it:

1) I can insulate them a little. When they lack a perceived need I can say things like, "I understand that this is not necessary in your life, but here's how grace works for me," kind of like programming 911 into their spiritual speed dial in case of emergency.

2) I can keep my eyes open. I can recognize that opportunities to bring back prodigals may be sudden and brief and be prepared for them at all times. In other words, I can stay awake and keep plenty of oil in my lamp.

What did you hear today?

I saw a description of education

Context
I was reading through some more messages on the Information Literacy Instruction mailing list today. One of them was about academic institutions whose campus-wide goals reflect an emphasis on information literacy. Reading the various examples, I found this snippet from the mission statement for the University of North Carolina at Charlotte: "Develop an understanding and appreciation of the themes of liberal education for private and public life in the areas of arts and society, the western tradition, global understanding, and ethical issues and cultural critique." As a person who is generally liberal in my political opinions, the use of the phrase "liberal education" struck me.

Commentary
A quick check of Wikipedia and the Association of American Colleges and Universities' website shows that "liberal education" means essentially the same thing as "liberal arts education": the idea that it's beneficial to learn about many subjects instead of just focusing on the field you plan to make money in.

I was wondering, though, if some people see the term "liberal education" and think it means education in how to be a liberal. In other words, the liberal education one would get at UNCC might be in contrast to the conservative education one would get at Oral Roberts University. I would have never thought that way about liberal arts colleges, but seeing "liberal" and "education" right next to each other made the idea more plausible.

Actually, one might not be mistaken in seeing it that way. A recent poll by Zogby and The Norman Lear Center showed that when it comes to television at least, people with liberal political views are much more likely than political conservatives to watch a variety of different types of shows, not disdaining even those whose views they disagree with. In retrospect this is not a surprising result. For me, liberalism means being open to everything. Illiberalism, on the other hand, posits that certain views are so obviously dangerous or erroneous that they don't even bear examination.

It bears noting, however, that liberalism and illiberalism are not always equivalent to left-wing and right-wing political convictions. I've lived in California; I know plenty of radicals who are convinced the only way to effect social change is to annihilate anyone who holds a contrary opinion. I also have friends who have a Republican's love for small government but don't vilify me for not sharing it. And in spite of my general liberalism, I'm fairly conservative religiously and economically. None of my convictions ever make me want to shut my eyes to what else is out there.

What did you see today?

I saw a description of Christianity

Context
While web surfing today, I came across this blog entry which ends up positing that Christianity is, in fact, a "doom cult."

Commentary
I like to read analyses of Christianity written by non-Christians; it often helps me see where our message is going astray (e.g., "we're better than you" is not a basic tenet of the faith, regardless of how many people seem to espouse it,). In this case, however, I'm forced to say that Bronze Blog has hit the nail right on the head. We are a doom cult. Well, "cult" might not be the term I would use, but I concede the blogger's point that "cult" and "religion" have the same semantic relationship as "terrorist" and "freedom fighter": it depends on where you're standing.

But we're definitely all about the doom. In our defense, though, every religion is about doom. The basic premise of faith is, "you are there. You oughta be here instead. If you don't come over here, bad things will happen." Certainly we vary as to where "here" is and the appropriate method to get from the one place to the other, but as a general rule religion says things have got to change and it knows the way. It really doesn't have any other purpose.

So why does Bronze Blog think this is an insight worth blogging about? Well, for one thing, I've noticed there are a number of things that anti-Christians think of as "shocking revelations" that most Christians have long since assimilated into their understanding of how complex a relationship with God really is. I think some people really believe that as soon as they tell me that Jesus cursed a fig tree the scales will drop from my eyes and I'll renounce my deluded ways forever. Of course, scales dropping from the eyes is itself a Biblical phenomenon, but I digress.

On the other hand, maybe Bronze Blog is not so far afield. Maybe we have come to the point where Christians do think of apocalyptic nature of our faith as a "shocking revelation." Maybe we've become so comfortable and satisfied with the status quo that we really do believe that "God’s in his heaven: All’s right with the world."

But that's a Robert Browning line, not a biblical one. The Bible says the world is broken and that God will not stand for it forever. And the only consolation we get is that the new world will be better than the old. Hey, we're a doom cult, not a despairing one.

What did you see today?

I saw some people sitting around talking

Context
I went to give blood today. The person who attended to me struggled with almost all of the tasks associated with drawing blood and the end result was that my pint had to be discarded due to air contamination. Most of the time she was struggling, four or five of her coworkers were sitting around talking.

Commentary
Because of the Quaker testimony on integrity, I try to make the Context part of my blog as straightforward and fact-based as possible. Now that I'm in Commentary, I can tell you I was royally pissed off about the situation this morning.

I am what they call a baby blood donor, so I try to donate regularly. I enjoy the chance to do something that helps out and normally causes me very little trouble. Today's missteps at the blood collection site not only inconvenienced me, they made it impossible for me to donate for another eight weeks, which is likely to inconvenience some babies! So I'm a little perturbed about that.

However, I found the woman's coworkers blasé attitude even more disturbing. It's entirely possible that there was nothing they could have done to improve the situation, but from my viewpoint they looked like their work was of no consequence at all to them.

So that got me thinking about salvation. You don't really want to know how my mind works, because you'll become just as crazy as me, but here's what happened: my husband and I had a discussion about religious universalism yesterday in which I was generally in favor of it (my opinion on this topic changes almost daily). His main objection to universalism is that it fails to give enough importance to God sending his Son to die for us. In response I said, "yeah, but salvation doesn't seem all that important to some people."

That made me wonder why salvation is more important to me than many people I know, so I resolved to spend some time thinking about it today. Here's the progression I then went through: I think salvation is important because I believe in sin, which I know is not true of all everyone. Most of the people I know who don't believe in sin are moral relativists. I think moral relativism starts from a good place, i.e. "there are different moral standards in different contexts." However, it too often seems to end up at "since there's no absolute morality, it doesn't matter what I do!"

Do you see how I got back to the blood center workers? I believe that the moment we start believing that what we do doesn't matter, we start doing wrong. I also believe we get really depressed because it sucks to not matter, but that's an issue for another time.

What did you see today?

I saw Jewish people touching the Torah

Context
My husband, Mark, belongs to the Shreveport-Bossier Go club. Ron, another member of the club, became Bar Mitzvah today (I think that's the correct usage, but my Hebrew comprehension is nothing to write home about). As part of the service, there was a parade with the Sefer Torah. Most of the people in the congregation touched the Torah, either with their hand or their prayer book, but Mark and I did not.

Commentary
Please don't think I'm being disrespectful when I say there was a parade with the Sefer Torah. In the order of service, it said, "a parade may follow," and at that point, Ron and his mom, who is the spiritual leader of the B'nai Zion congregation (no pressure there, I'm sure), walked around the sanctuary with the sacred scroll.

So why didn't Mark and I touch it? Short answer, we're not Jewish. The long answer (and it wouldn't really be a blog entry without that, would it?) has to do with my beliefs about why Jewish people do touch the Sefer Torah with such reverence, in most cases forsaking bare skin and using their prayer book instead.

First of all, let's take some ideas off the table. I don't think touching the Torah is an empty ritual. It is my hope that in a society where we strive for freedom of religion that no one would engage in meaningless worship activities. Also, given the rarity of Jewish people in the South, probably not a lot of pressure to perform such a gesture just for show. I also don't think it's a superstitious thing, like "touch the Sefer Torah, be blessed for the rest of the day," or smething like that.

No, what I think I saw today was people seeking physical contact with their heritage. My religious education has always taught me that the Jewish people were set apart from everyone else in this world by God Himself for one purpose: to inherit His mitzvoh (commandments). Touching the Torah is how one acknowledges, "this is who I am and why I was created."

So the end of my long answer is, "it's not who I am and why I was created." Being a Gentile and a Christian, mine is a different path. But to be in the same room with so many people making this simple but powerful statement about their identity and heritage? Well, I didn't touch, but I did cry.

What did you see today?

I heard someone talk about competition

Context
I teach high school Sunday School at my husband's church. Frequently I'll have no students, so I'll spend the time talking with other members of the church. Today, as we were discussing the war in Iraq, one of them said something like this: "I don't really know the differences between Sunnis and Shi'ites, but I know the main problem is they don't want to be equal. They each want us to take their side."

Commentary
As is true of most of the people at First Lutheran, the man I was talking to is both older and more conservative than me. However, in this particular case I agreed with him. I told him, "I think you're right, but that's true of everybody. Everybody wants to be ahead of everyone else."

I think that competitiveness is both normal and healthy. I think that makes me unusual among pacifists, because there's a tendency to think that competition leads to strife, and that's what we're trying to avoid. Maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part, but I believe there are ways to be competitive without being violent toward your fellow human being. I'm going to use some examples from the National Football League to illustrate my point, because that's the competition I'm paying the most attention to as we head into the conference championships.

One problem with competitiveness that seems to prey especially on the minds of parents of small children is the possibility that being defeated in a contest will damage one's self-esteeem. I think this happens when we expand our analysis of a competition's outcome beyond reasonable limits.

For example, this is a true statement: "The New England Patriots defeated the San Diego Chargers in a divisional playoff game last week."

This one might be true as well: "Over a span of 60 minutes last week, the New England Patriots were a better football team than the San Diego Chargers."

However, none of these are true:

1) "The New England Patriots are morally superior to the San Diego Chargers."
2) "Each individual member of the New England Patriots is more manly than each individual member of the San Diego Chargers."

or even
3) "The New England Patriots will always beat the San Diego Chargers every time they play."

Each win or loss in a competitive event is related to that event only and should not be treated as giving insight into other aspect of life. No little girl should ever be led to think that if a ball gets past her into a soccer net that it means she'll never have any success at anything. For that matter no 26-year-old quarterback should feel that way either.

OK, that's how we keep competition from being negative, how do we make it positive? Well, the narrow focus can also be beneficial in our search for identity, something psychologists tell us starts in adolescence, but I think stays with us as long as we grow as people. In fact, this is a context where, although winning is great, losing may provide more valuable lessons.

For example, at Indiana University, Antwaan Randle El was a quarterback. However, in the NFL he lost that competition to guys who were, quite frankly, better quarterbacks. Now he's not only one of the best receivers in the NFL, but occasionally scares defenses to death with the prospect that he'll drop back and throw the ball instead of catching it. So let's review:

True statement: Antwaan Randle El is not as good at the quarterback positions as some other guys are.

False statements: "Antwaan Randle El can't play professional football." "Antwaan Randle El can't scare the defense." Or even, "Antwaan Randle El will never throw a pass in the NFL," because he's already thrown several.

Antwaan Randle El's identity, at least at his day job, is defined differently from what he might have expected. But it's still a great identity, and it's all his because very few people pose the same multiple threat he does. Competition can do that for you, whittle down the "what you're good at, what you're not good at, what you can learn more about, what you'd just as soon not bother with" stuff until you're the perfect little sculpture God meant you to be.

So go out there and compete! Celebrate your wins, learn from your losses, and remember that the bigger picture is both big and constantly changing.

What did you see today?

I saw an article about faith

Context
The American Library Association has a e-mail list that's supposed to relate to intellectual freedom called IFFORUM (archives here). Because it's unmoderated, it often becomes a magnet for all kinds of political commentary. Today someone posted an excerpt from this interview with Sam Harris. There was a great deal of food for thought in the interview, (translation: I could rant about it all day, if you let me), but I was particularly struck by this exchange:

Amazon.com: In other words, you are careful to distinguish between what you term "faith" and "spirituality." In a nutshell, what is this distinction?

Harris: "Faith" is false conviction in unjustified propositions (a certain book was written by God; we will be reunited with our loved ones after death; the Creator of the universe can hear our thoughts, etc.). "Spirituality" or "mysticism" (both words are pretty terrible, but there are no good alternatives in English) refers to any process of introspection by which a person can come to realize that the feeling he calls "I" is a cognitive illusion. The core truth of mysticism is this: It is possible to experience the world without feeling like a separate "self" in the usual sense. Such a change in the character of one's experience need not become the basis for making unsupportable claims about the nature of the universe, however.

Commentary
Let's start with where I agree with Sam Harris: I, too, think there's a difference between "faith" and "spirituality." When I'm at my most cynical, I think faith is when you actually believe in something and spirituality is when you have the vague feeling that you want to/ought to believe in something, but haven't settled on anything in particular.

Thanks to my husband, Mark, I've started thinking about the distinction more rationally. Faith is still when you believe in something, or as the writer of Hebrews would have it, "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1 NRSV)

Spirituality has more to do with what one believes in. I agree with Harris that it is something separate from the self, but I think he’s too anthrocentric about it, in that he views the transformation of the individual as the important component. I think the most important aspect of spirituality is learning about an entity that is separate from the self. I’ve been taught to call this entity the Holy Spirit.

At this point, Harris would be perfectly justified in crying “foul!” I’ve taken an article in which he defines spirituality as something separate from the most evil aspects of Western religion, and stuck it smack dab in the center of the enemy camp. The problem is, despite Christianity’s reputation for couching things in terms of black and white, I don’t see the duality Harris proposes. In fact, my “real” definition of spirituality is in some way related to my cynical one above. It’s that separate entity, whether we call it “God,” or “the Holy Spirit,” or “Nature,” or “the Avatar,” that prompts us to think, “maybe I ought to believe in something that’s outside my immediate experience and self-interest.” In other words, “maybe I ought to have a little faith.”

That being said, I think Harris does have some faith himself. For example, he believes that, “It is possible to experience the world without feeling like a separate ‘self’ in the usual sense.” Personally, I think that’s an unsupportable claim about the nature of the universe.

What did you see today?