Implications, Relationships, Symbolism

March 1st, 2012   by   Andrew

Part of the Series God: From Magic to Motivation

 

Many moons ago I put up a post on the Effectiveness of Prayer? It prompted a conversation where a believer-friend of mine expressed some amazement at how atheists he worked with seemed just as concerned about morality as the Christians he worked with. As he put it, “I find that fascinating and more than a little bit puzzling.” (note – Disqus is still not playing nice. The comments are there, but not always showing under the post for some reason. I’m working on it…)

I got running with a line of thought. I quoted for him Jordan Peterson’s description of the function of a god:

God’s very being has to have implication for actions, for motivation, and for how we feel about things. Otherwise, He’s no God.

For a deep believer, I think this is almost intuitively understood, goes without saying. But at the same time, I think non-believers are finding things in their lives to put in that place through the process of recognizing others as important parts of  our selves.

I got substituting a few things in place of God to suggest where atheist morality is coming from (I’m going to add a few more things to flush out the idea):

My spouse’s very being has to have implications for actions, for motivation, and for how I feel about things. Otherwise, they’re not my spouse.

My children’s very being has to have implications for actions, for motivation, and for how I feel about things. Otherwise, they’re not my children.

My community’s very being has to have implications for actions, for motivation, and for how I feel about things. Otherwise, it’s not my community.

My world’s very being has to have implications for actions, for motivation, and for how I feel about things. Otherwise, it’s not my world.

In Christianity (and to some extent, Judaism as well), the mythological symbolism of God got flipped. Instead of God being Father, God became Son. Imagery, as reminders of what we were to be motivated by, came from vulnerable things – baby, young pregnant woman, lamb, dove, etc.

As an aside, my home province of Ontario initiated a new holiday a few years ago – Family Day. We now have government-coordinated holy days for Father, Mother and for Family.

Our planet Earth is often portrayed as a Mother. Ideas like the Gaia hypothesis borrow imagery from ancient mythology to tap into the poetic zeal and richness.

The success of Christianity has a lesson on the value of upending our institutionalized, symbolic imagery. Maybe our association between the planet and our mother isn’t the best imagery anymore. Our role has changed and how we see ourselves has changed. Maybe instead, we could symbolically see it as our daughter.

After all:

My daughter’s very being has to have implications for actions, for motivation, and for how I feel about things. Otherwise, what kind of parent would I be?

What do you think?



The Lord of the Rings and Social Groups for Change

September 13th, 2011   by   Andrew

Part of Chapter 13 in the series Myths and Dragons

One of the greatest contributions to recent Christian thought, in my opinion, is J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. The Christian church, in its many forms, could learn a thing or two about its role in people’s lives from the mythological characters in the story. Gandalf, Saruman and Galadriel reveal three examples of “institutional attitudes” towards change. Do you know religious and non-religious groups that have personalities similar to these three characters?

Gandalf the Grey Pilgrim has a lesson for the church.

In the Lord of the Rings, Gandalf is often criticized for arriving with bad news, arriving with dramatic urgency, and arriving with very little time to prepare for whatever it is that’s so important. Gandalf isn’t very patient with people. As a result, people find it hard to listen to him. But with all his convictions, emotional outbursts, and persistent needling, he has a consistent quality.

When Gandalf returns to the Shire he goes to Bag-End to find Frodo. They test the ring in the small hearth fire and Gandalf’s worries are confirmed. He explains to his hobbit friend the history of The One Ring, the Ring of Power that was made from the might and will of the Black Lord. Frodo, realizing the enormous responsibility in his old uncle’s ring, offers the ring to Gandalf. Surely, a great man of the world like Gandalf would be a better keeper for such a dangerous, willful thing, right? But Gandalf becomes offended and even scared of the thing. He won’t even touch it.

Gandalf refuses the ring. Instead he commits his strength and abilities to the protection and service of the one that has to make the journey. He is constantly working for some other goal than his own power. He himself constantly journeys – always initiating and maintaining relationships but never consolidating and securing any authority for himself. If anything, he gains only a reputation for bothering those in power, for making people face up to the next impending challenge. He even undergoes the most dramatic challenge of his own life in order to protect his fellowship – he faces a demon he might not be able to beat. And through his own sacrifices, Gandalf changes because of it.

Gandalf is the helpful mentor. He is the best friend and most trusted companion a ring-bearer can have. He is there for the ring-bearer from the beginning and even at the end when all hope is lost, despite the costs and sacrifices and changes these relationships force upon Gandalf.

Saruman the Plotting Fool has a lesson for the church.

After his armies are defeated and his power gone, Saruman is held in the tower of Orthanc. Gandalf offers his fellow wizard a moment of peace, if only he will come down from his jail of a tower, if only he will admit to being wrong. Saruman refuses the invitation, and all more refuses to sacrifice his trust in things such as power, political influence and personal ambition. Instead, he finds Gandalf and his jailors threatening, and will not believe what they say. He thinks they play games with him, and so he schemes to see if he can best them. Saruman thinks his enemies have the same intentions as himself. As a result, he fears them instead of changing his attitude and considering their help or guidance. He loses his position and his power and ends up being less than a wisp on the wind.

Saruman seeks the ring. He tries to fix things rigidly in place and gain dominance over both the natural world and the cultural world. His own obsessions direct him to his doom. And when faced with his failure, he slinks further and further into depravity, striking at whatever little things he can, to either upset or prove wrong those he once tried to dominate. He is unable to admit to his mistakes or face his failure in serving the world.

Saruman is a ruthless tyrant. He sides with an enemy that, ultimately, will not share power and will not be influenced. His envy makes him unable to understand the need to refuse power in institutional form. As a result of establishing himself with power – residing in a fixed and unchanging fortress called Orthanc and surrounding himself with the industry of his minions – he unwittingly unleashes the hidden forces of nature that are his own undoing.

Galadriel The Lady of Lothlorien has a lesson for the church.

Galadriel offers the ring-bearer a glimpse into the possible future. She understands the imminent change the world must face and the importance of the Ring of Power. She is surprised when, in turn, the little ring-bearer offers the ring to her. Galadriel is painfully tempted because of her desire to maintain the realm she has been able to create for herself, but she also knows how the One Ring would ultimately twist and change her. She declines, and passes the test, although it means the end of her own place in the world. Galadriel willingly prepares herself and her realm for the sacrifices and changes to come.

Galadriel denies the ring. Even at the expense, eventually, of her own position and power.

Galadriel is a distant sponsor. She tests, and is in turn tested. She offers a place of peace and comfort, regardless of the threat it brings to her own home, and is in turn offered something in reciprocity. She understands her role, and the need to refuse power beyond her realm. She gives gifts chosen or made specifically to the guests that come to her, letting their talents and their needs govern her contributions. And, she submits to her fate. She passes into the West.

Can religious groups, or any institutional groups, learn these lessons well? Can the church, or any established institution, learn to refuse the ring and triumph over its own will?

What is your church? Is it a helpful mentor, a ruthless tyrant, or a distant sponsor? Or something more?

What do you think?



Gretta Vosper — Taking a Church Through the Eye of a Needle

April 6th, 2011   by   Andrew

Monday night I listened to Gretta Vosper talk about the perils of pathfinding. In a sense, it was a story about ministry.

She had a big problem. She loved her congregation. She loved her calling. She loved sharing her education and her thoughts on religious ideas. But she didn’t have the same God as her church.

She put a lot of passion and work into her sermons in order to explain the history, the context, the subtleties of the old and important writings. She tried to explain out the differences in time, and how important it was to live in today’s world, with today’s understandings of things.

She would finish her services, and the congregation would smile, and she would realize their understandings of God had not been changed or challenged in any real way at all. And when she looked a little deeper, she noticed everything within the old and comfortable rituals of the church reconfirmed what could only be an elementary understanding of God.

So she broke down, and finally told them she didn’t believe in the same interceding God they did. She didn’t believe in the God of agency they did. She didn’t  see God as Love, at least in the way they said they did. She certainly didn’t believe the Bible was the authoritative word of God for all time. And she didn’t know what to do.

Some people in the church were ready and willing to take up the new path with her. Others were not. It became a time of losing allies, dissolving relationships, and things falling apart. But it was also a time of examining values, embracing new friends, and hope taking shape. In her mind,  it had to happen because, well… how else would something as old as a church change?

There is a story about Jesus who was approached by a rich man wanting to know how to receive eternal life. In short, Jesus told him to sell everything he had and turn his life towards helping others. The rich man was unimpressed with the cost, and walked away. When Jesus was pressed to explain what he had said to the rich man, he came up with a really creative image:

It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. [See Mark or Matthew]

A little while ago a friend online posted a collection of interpretations for this passage. There are lots, each one with a history and a use all its own. But the most intriguing one for me was this:

It can be a simple process, but not an easy one. The camel must first be completely destroyed. Once that is done, it can pass through the needle’s eye. [if you know where this came from, please tell me so I can link it or give credit]

That’s a tall order. Churches don’t like being destroyed. Even if it is the only way forward.

I have to give my respect to the United Church of Canada. They have not excommunicated her or fired her. They have not swept her under any rug. They haven’t even simply walked away, like that rich man unimpressed with the cost.  But they are watching and they are waiting.

Gretta talked a little bit about burn-out. As minister, she is the spiritual leader but not necessarily the executive leader, and she did express some hesitation about where this was all going. It sounds like her progressive church is starting to move on it’s own momentum now. Many of the new members of her church have little history with things like Sunday School curriculum, or group assemblies or religious studies. At this point, they cannot return to the old rituals and easy resources. They are making it all fresh and all new. As a result, they work with the passion of zealots and new converts. A moment of care and consideration can be important, especially in unexplored territory. If you are willing to set yourself on fire, some people will be more than willing to help you find the matches.

In breaking new ground, I fear Gretta and her congregation may be digging holes for themselves and losing sight of the many paths already cut through the trees, so to speak. Many people have walked these paths already.  (I wanted to ask her, “Why not ask the Unitarians for help?” but the question period ended before I plucked up my nerve.)

When it all gets done, I’m not sure if anything will be left to pass through that narrow eye of the needle. But, they are facing the daunting task of change, and they are doing it head-on. I’m just not sure whether to lend a hand, or be ready with a bucket of water.

What do you think?



Community, Religion and Beer

March 31st, 2011   by   Andrew

There has been a massive boom in the diversity of beer over the last twenty years. This has changed the definition of a beer drinker.

In the recent past, if you were a Coors drinker, then that meant you drank Coors and would likely only drink something else if someone else gave you a beer to drink. If you were a Coors drinker, you bought Coors and that was about it.

A Coors drinker today is someone that buys Coors and drinks Coors some or most of the time. Sometimes a change is good. Sometimes you might feel like trying Bud, or Miller, or Keystone, or even an import.

In Canada, the big breweries ignored this for a little while. Then a smaller brewery called Lakeport changed things on them. Lakeport put out a simple line of beers, got distributed well, and started to take a large slice of the old breweries’ pieces of the pie. What was the secret? Well, beer has four main ingredients – water, grain (malt), hops, and yeast. There is a lot of room for variation. But Lakeport didn’t really taste much different. It tasted like beer. Some people didn’t like it. Those that did like it, bought it.

What was special about Lakeport? It cost about 1/3 less than the beer from the big breweries.

Same great taste. Less financial commitment.

I know a family that has returned to the church after years of being not really interested. When they had kids, it became important for them to connect to a church. Both Mom and Dad in that family were raised in the United Church of Canada, so that made that choice a little easier for them. But they were not caught up in the mumbo-jumbo. They joined for community, for the present world, not for the after-life. They would likely consider themselves Christian by orientation but not by authentication. There is breathing room to think about things, and let the mysterious unknowns be unknown. They go to church when their son doesn’t have hockey, down at the community rink, or their daughter doesn’t have a recital, usually held at the dance school. Individuation is just how people roll these days. They pick and choose their commitments to the church because they wish to be in the church, but not of the church.

Same great community. Less direct control over their lives.

Ian, at irreducible complexity, described his ideal, non-faith-based church in a post several months ago (his sight seems down right now, sorry). Please check it out, if you haven’t looked at it yet. Essentially, it’s a social club for families. A place to mingle and share ideas. A center to initiate and nurture community projects. I would bet the family I mention above would check it out, if there was such a place in their community.

Ian’s post was part of the inspiration for my Integrative Spirituality post. At first I was really struck with just how possible Ian’s ideal church was. But as I got thinking about it, I wondered if his social club was already in place, virtually at least. I mean, this is already happening on the internet. It does not have the same social dynamic or family dynamic. In fact, it separates families into isolated, individuated rooms, making us all the more physically and consciously distant. But it is breaking down the barriers of control around information.

Same great service. Less monopolization?

So what happened to Lakeport? Like I said, the big breweries first ignored it. Then the big breweries tried to copy what Lakeport had done. Then one of the big breweries (itself owned by an even larger brewing company)  simply bought up Lakeport. And the price of Lakeport at the beer store has been on the rise ever since.

I used to be a Lakeport drinker, but it’s kind of lost its flavour. I’m much more interested in the imports and local micro-breweries now. They have some intriguing tastes to offer. And, I don’t mind offering my time and attention to both the international and the local. I’ve even tried home-brew, under my dad’s watchful eye.

The big breweries are still pretty much running the show, unfortunately, and snatch up the little ones that get out of line. But at the same time, I sure hope those big breweries don’t have enough money to buy up everything. That’s not exactly how I want to see the world all become one.


Cheers!


What do you think?



The Democratization of Religion

March 28th, 2011   by   Andrew

In 1978,  Albino Luciano became Pope John Paul I. He was known as the Smiling Pope for trying to “humanize” the papacy and suggesting things like God is our father but even more he is our mother.

Pope John Paul I passed away 33 days after his investiture, and Karol Wojtyla took the papal name Pope John Paul II. He said the name was a kind of symbol to show his commitment to the reforms of  Vatican II. (This was a long meeting where the Catholic Church played with the idea of implementing dramatic changes. In the end they decided they had things right in the first place, more or less. To be fair, however, they did establish a symbolic recognition of the importance of dialogue and negotiation.)

Pope John Paul II is known for saying things like “the Church is not a democracy.” When it came to reform, this pope had a favorite response: “No, no.”

I’ve never really understood the Catholic Church. When I was young, my Catholic friends were Catholic only by the school they went to, and maybe by the switch across their hand. I lived with a few Catholics in my university days, and I didn’t understand them either (related post link).

However, when I found this article, the nature of the denomination became quite clear for me. It explains Catholicism within Christianity in real simple terms.

The trick about being a Catholic, as I understand it, is that you don’t quite have the burden of figuring out right and wrong for yourself…The Catholic Church is there to mediate between your conscience and God. It is, I suppose, a kind of compulsory arbitration. When you become a member of the faith you undertake to abide by it.

So, this might be why it is so impervious to real reform, and close to pointless in expecting it will change much from within. It’s not in the business of thinking about what’s outside itself. It’s in the business of being the Catholic Church.

Malcolm Gladwell gave a talk (video link) about how our tastes have become democratized because of the work of the marketer and scientist, Howard Muskowitz. Muskowitz would say things like, “There is no one perfect pickle but there are perfect pickles.”  Because of Muskowitz’s research and work, we can decide at the store if we will buy dill pickles, zesty dill pickles, no garlic dill pickles, etc. There are pickle experts out there that authoritatively know what makes good pickles. But that’s their business. If I don’t think they make good pickles, I don’t have to buy them.

Malcolm Gladwell wrote an article called “Million-Dollar Murray” in which he looks at how to solve the problem of homelessness. Gladwell describes how some costly efforts have returned very little results. In his conclusion he says the answer is simple but demands an uncomfortable choice between two options. When a person demonstrates they cannot take care of themselves, we can either:

(1) maintain and uphold their freedoms. Offer services for assistance but don’t waste too much money on programs. They have to initiate change in themselves and all we can do is let them live (or die) their own lives. Or

(2) take away their freedoms and put them in the care of someone that can. Their personal wishes and freedoms make it impossible for them to get the care and attention they need.

Tough choice, right? Which one would you pick? What’s most fair?

A friend was raised in a Catholic family. When she was 5 years old she had a crush on Laura Ingalls from the TV-show Little House on the Prairie. When she was a teenager she tried to have a boyfriend. That didn’t work. When she was in her twenties, she told her parents she didn’t like boys. In the process of coming to terms with the revelation, her parents stopped going to the Catholic Church. When it came down to it, the burden of figuring out right and wrong for themselves turned out to be unavoidable. Sure, the Catholic Church may have had an authority figure, but that was his business. The family wasn’t buying it anymore. After all, this was their child.

I came across a statistic some time ago that said well over 40% of Americans are not in the same faith or denomination they grew up in. Apparently shopping for spiritual experts is now a lot like shopping for pickles. Good business for experts but bad business for authorities.

The business of church has changed too. They market themselves differently now. In attempts to get people in the door, some have offered valet services, some offer daycare services, etc. My first conscious experience with Mormons came from playing basketball in their temple. If a church wants to survive, it has to think about what it gives to the community.

Is it ironic that in order to get people’s butts in the pews, churches have had to resort to becoming the servant? Or is that appropriate maybe? The demands of the public have in a sense guided the church back to what it was (supposed to be) doing all along anyway.

A symbolic gesture of a church’s  grace might go a long way at this point.  The public might appreciate a clear demonstration of their intentions.

When I wrote the title of this post, it looked familiar and I googled it. Sheldon Gellar of Indiana University, apparently, wrote a paper about the democratization of religion in America and Africa (pdf file link). He suggests that participation in principled communities at the small level, even faith-based communities, could encourage the democratization of a larger society. Central and South America have histories to tell in this as well, I would bet. But all this does not bode well for the pope.

The Church is not a democracy? Well maybe it better be, or else…

It still comes down to one thing, I think.  The burden to figure it out is on you. And so if you really must go shopping, for churches or teachers or authority figures or pickles, caveat emptor. Please, please be aware, and read the signs.

What do you think?



What do you mean by God? Mid-Review

January 2nd, 2011   by   Andrew

In December I started a series of posts with the theme What do you mean by God? The series is going to be an ongoing thing for me, but I want to review the three inspirations for the series and the lessons learned from each of them so far.

1. The first post began with a personal memory of a conversation I had with a friend. He explained God as a sci-fi symbiotic life-giving Spirit, a continuation of evolution. He then quickly tied it back to Jesus and the Bible without any specific connection. I couldn’t find the sense in his modern-day explanation of God and his reliance on the ancient texts and stories. But I recognized his unwavering devotion to his biblical religion and sensed a lot of personal meaning was involved for him.

2. The Observer magazine had a feature on the enigma of God. Six community leaders, either working ministers or academics, shared their thoughts on how they looked at God. It surprised me how the six gave some deference to the Bible, but did not treat the book as a sole authority.  Instead, many sources were used and the metaphors invoked were somewhat scientific or relational. Only one of the writers really tried to ‘embody’ or ‘personify’ God and that had close to no biblical context. Of the six writers, only two directly quote the Bible and only half in total make specific mention of parts of the book.

What this suggests to me is that the Bible is not a central source church leaders cling to anymore when they think upon their faith. (Note – The writers are from one particular denomination and that does skew the perspective.) What they are doing instead is something quite remarkable to me. They are examining their relationships, their lives, their world, finding emotional bonds, things of personal importance to them, awe-inspiring wonder, and then putting God there. The subjectivity of the whole project floored me. And this leads to the third inspiration for the series.

3. Martin Luther’s quote

When I first came upon this quote from Luther, I was devastated by the personal implication of it. A full admission, from a church revolutionary no less, to the personal and emotional creation of gods (and idols). Luther’s confession does not make gods any less real for the believer. However,  it shifts the focus dramatically.

This quote above, when I first read it, stuck me as a definition that could be quite helpful but very threatening to the ‘dangerously devoted’ – those that are so consumed by belief that they suffer from something close to an obsessive-compulsive disorder. But just as important, it challenges the adamant non-believer to grasp the personal conviction of belief or personal investment involved in belief.



I plan on getting back to this series in the future, but I want to explore the feelings of God at this point. Of the six articles from the Observer, the only one that really intrigued me was a narrative, a story that tried to relate an experience of feeling something mystical. I have very few personal reference points for this and so want to understand how people feel or experience God.

Certain emotional states seem to come up again and again when talking about God. In the next few posts I want to ask What are the implications of each of these feelings? How do people react to these feelings? I will continue to use Luther’s confession as my central, working definition for God and try to honestly follow the feelings, wherever they may lead…

What do you think? Care to join me?