Funny. Isn't that also... like... what Jesus did?
Just a thought.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Why Sci Fi?
Time to let out my inner nerd for all to see.
I'm a total Trekkie.
My dad has watched Star Trek since before I can remember. When I was little and I went to his office at work I remember playing with his little model of the starship Enterprise that he kept on his desk. At Christmastime one year (I was probably four or five), I was watching "The Santa Clause" or some other such Christmas movie and pulled my ears up into points with my fingers to try to look like an elf. My mom laughed and told me to go show my dad and say "I am Mr. Spock."
My dad recorded episodes of Star Trek on TV in the early '90s and took a huge barrel of tapes down with us to Ecuador. Meaning that, the summer after my seventh grade year, I was home all summer with next to nothing to do, and somewhat inadvertently got hooked on the original series of Star Trek. I watched every single episode of all three seasons, and despaired when I finished all of them. Mr. Spock was (okay, still is) my hero, and although William Shatner's acting got on my nerves, I sat through it gladly to soak in the stories and watch how the characters responded when in dire straits.
I've not watched all the Next Generation episodes, I've only seen a handful of Voyager and Enterprise episodes, and I don't think I've ever even seen a Deep Space Nine episode, but I get similarly hooked when watching Captain Jean-Luc Picard and Lieutenant Commander Data or Captain Janeway and Tuvok.
Why do I love Star Trek so much? I have no idea. Maybe it's not the science fiction I love (though it's fascinating)--maybe it's just that there has never really been another story that I've experienced in which the characters were written with such grace under pressure, to quote Hemingway.
To watch the captains, while facing almost certain death, ensure the survival of members of their crew with calm and purpose. To watch the crew solve problems that seem utterly unsolvable. To watch members of the crew sacrifice themselves willingly for others or for a cause that they believed in. To watch characters struggle painfully with moral and ethical dilemmas, the likes of which have supposedly never been confronted by anyone from planet earth before. And yet, that was never quite true. Because they were often dilemmas that seemed rather familiar.
That's when I realized that science fiction and fantasy are what you write when you have a situation or a story to tell, but you don't want to tell it quite the way it is. You want to try to remove your audience from it just a little further, to make sure that they see it without blinders. If you create an entirely new world and context for something, the distance is sometimes enough to see it in a way that brings to light different facets you may not have seen before. Maybe that's why I like science fiction. It's parables.
Anyway. If you have time, I found this blog post a while ago and it made me smile. What Would Picard Do?
I'm a total Trekkie.
My dad recorded episodes of Star Trek on TV in the early '90s and took a huge barrel of tapes down with us to Ecuador. Meaning that, the summer after my seventh grade year, I was home all summer with next to nothing to do, and somewhat inadvertently got hooked on the original series of Star Trek. I watched every single episode of all three seasons, and despaired when I finished all of them. Mr. Spock was (okay, still is) my hero, and although William Shatner's acting got on my nerves, I sat through it gladly to soak in the stories and watch how the characters responded when in dire straits.
I've not watched all the Next Generation episodes, I've only seen a handful of Voyager and Enterprise episodes, and I don't think I've ever even seen a Deep Space Nine episode, but I get similarly hooked when watching Captain Jean-Luc Picard and Lieutenant Commander Data or Captain Janeway and Tuvok.
Why do I love Star Trek so much? I have no idea. Maybe it's not the science fiction I love (though it's fascinating)--maybe it's just that there has never really been another story that I've experienced in which the characters were written with such grace under pressure, to quote Hemingway.
To watch the captains, while facing almost certain death, ensure the survival of members of their crew with calm and purpose. To watch the crew solve problems that seem utterly unsolvable. To watch members of the crew sacrifice themselves willingly for others or for a cause that they believed in. To watch characters struggle painfully with moral and ethical dilemmas, the likes of which have supposedly never been confronted by anyone from planet earth before. And yet, that was never quite true. Because they were often dilemmas that seemed rather familiar.
 |
| OS Episode 70: Let That Be Your Last Battlefield |
Anyway. If you have time, I found this blog post a while ago and it made me smile. What Would Picard Do?
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Bravery and grace
Rachel Held Evans inspires me.
This post just appeared on her blog this afternoon, entitled "All right then, I'll go to hell":
http://rachelheldevans.com/huck-finn-hell
Maybe I'm just emotional, but it made me cry.
Things like this give me hope. Hope that there can be more love and understanding in the world.
It reassures me that I am not the only person in the world struggling with how I should think and act with regards to difficult questions such as this. And it reassures me that I am not the only one who has decided that, since I am human and must err, I would rather err on the side of acceptance than that of judgment.
This post just appeared on her blog this afternoon, entitled "All right then, I'll go to hell":
http://rachelheldevans.com/huck-finn-hell
Maybe I'm just emotional, but it made me cry.
Things like this give me hope. Hope that there can be more love and understanding in the world.
It reassures me that I am not the only person in the world struggling with how I should think and act with regards to difficult questions such as this. And it reassures me that I am not the only one who has decided that, since I am human and must err, I would rather err on the side of acceptance than that of judgment.
"Sometimes true faithfulness requires something of a betrayal."
"'The body of Christ, broken for you,' I said anyway."
"Perhaps grace, like the Bible, was never meant to be 'sivilized' anyway."
Sunday, May 20, 2012
What is worship?
worship
noun
1.
reverent honor and homage paid to God...
Unfortunately, my faithful friend dictionary.com holds a definition of worship that seems, in that word paid, to rather promote an "economy of exchange" that I so recently railed against. And perhaps it really comes down to a matter of semantics. But the way I understand it, we're in no way forced into worshiping God--he lets us come of our own free will and pay homage to him. And like I've said before, I'm no theology major. But that's what I've come to understand.
Back to the question, though. What is worship? Reverent honor and homage. Focusing adoration on the Creator of my soul. "Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God--this is your true and proper worship."
So I really think worship can look crazy different.
Walking the dog and worshiping.
Cleaning my room and worshiping.
Sitting in class and worshiping.
Spending time with friends and worshiping.
Drinking coffee and worshiping.
Acting on stage and worshiping.
Writing a blog post and worshiping.
Singing and worshiping.
This morning I read from the Book of Common Prayer and celebrated Holy Communion at the Episcopal Church in Marion and worshiped.
It wasn't the first time I've been to High Church, but it was one of the first. A professor invited me several weeks ago, and this week I asked if I could go with her.
It was a little hard to keep up--it would take several times before I got accustomed to it. But overall it was a pretty neat experience. Especially after spending some time in Symbols and Imaging class for the last couple weeks--I had a little bit of a semiotic context that made it even more interesting. The symbols, the liturgy and ritual, the language and the words. Worship. Just a little different from what I'm used to. And wonder-full (wonder: "to think or speculate curiously") because of the difference.
This week in Symbols and Imaging, we had a symbolic Jewish Seder meal that kept some Jewish tradition but that also had a decidedly Christian element to it. To have a Passover meal on Thursday and then to have Holy Communion at an Episcopal Church on Sunday has been a memorable juxtaposition.
I went back and looked for my reflection paper on the Seder meal that I had to write the first time took the class, and found this, which I wrote a little over a year ago at this point-
In any good literary work of fiction, themes and motifs crop up throughout the book. In the history of the Jews and now Christians, food and ceremonial feasts and meals are a recurring motif of life.This recurring motif of food says something very specific to me. The fact that we constantly have to eat to keep ourselves healthy reminds us that we are mortal, that we are human. Somehow I think that is one of the most important things we are supposed to remember.Remembering that I am human while giving reverent honor and homage to God in new places and in new ways has made for a wonder-full and worship-full week.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Deciphering Rachel Corrie
When I read My Name is Rachel Corrie for the first time as homework for my Script Analysis class, it was very late at night, and not all of it made sense. But the underlying message came through, and that was enough to put me on this track toward making it my senior project.
I have, of course, read it several more times by this point, but not until now, as I am working through it piece by piece, have I really begun to decipher and understand what she meant in certain passages.
She was most definitely a writer. And she thought very abstractly. She created metaphors to understand things (whether or not they make sense to anyone else), and that was how she interpreted the world.
So when she writes things like
Or,
Every time I figure out what she's talking about and what she's trying to say, it's like a little victory for me, and I feel like I understand a little bit more who she was. So today, I had a victory. In this section, she's just been invited to go to Gaza to work with the International Solidarity Movement, and she's talking about what led her to this point. She says she never intended to get involved with activism--she's scared of people and her original intent was more along the lines of gathering trivia. But something happened along the way. She creates this metaphor:
Then I started to memorize it, and somehow it dawned on me. And now that I understand it, I'm like, how could I not understand it? Duh.
The woman in the woods was just hired on to do the job, the spotted owl survey. She probably never intended to become so immersed in it. She certainly didn't plan on becoming "part owl." But, along the way, after years of doing the job, it began to change her. It became more than just a job she did. She was changed because of it. And Rachel is saying the same thing about herself. She never intended to be much more than a curious participant, standing off to the side and learning some things about the world and human rights and activism. And then it began to change her, and now she has to go.
The funny thing is, I think the same thing is happening to me that happened to Rachel and to the owl woman at Mount Rainier. Though, perhaps I did choose this project with a little more in mind than curious bystanding. But I'm beginning to get this inescapable feeling that my tongue is changing shape.
I have, of course, read it several more times by this point, but not until now, as I am working through it piece by piece, have I really begun to decipher and understand what she meant in certain passages.
She was most definitely a writer. And she thought very abstractly. She created metaphors to understand things (whether or not they make sense to anyone else), and that was how she interpreted the world.
So when she writes things like
The question is always where to start the story. That's the first question. Trying to find a beginning, trying to impose order on the great psychotic fast-forward merry-go-round, and trying to impose order is the first step toward ending up in a park somewhere, painted blue, singing "Row, row, row your boat" to an audience of saggy-lipped junkies and business people munching oat-bran muffins.it takes reading through it a couple of times before I really start to grasp the depth of what she's talking about.
Or,
I'm building the world myself and putting new hats on everybody one by one, before I go out, so wrinkled, I have to grab the great big flaccid flaps of my eyebrows and lift them off my cheekbones in order to see. Before I go out I'm gonna have people in tutus, cops wearing sombreros, stockbrokers with Viking hats, priests with panties on their heads. In the world I'm building, everybody shouts hello to everybody else from their car windows. People have speakers attached to their chests that pour out music so you can tell from a distance what mood they're in, and they won't be too chicken to get naked when the rain comes. And first ladies carry handcuffs and bull whips and presidents wear metal collars. Big metal collars with tight leashes.Rachel's description of an ideal world doesn't sound much like I imagine anyone else's would, but her vision of an ideal world fits exactly who she was. When I imagine and try to create in my mind the person who wrote these words, I understand that the same person couldn't be content to do activist work from the sidelines. She needed to go.
Every time I figure out what she's talking about and what she's trying to say, it's like a little victory for me, and I feel like I understand a little bit more who she was. So today, I had a victory. In this section, she's just been invited to go to Gaza to work with the International Solidarity Movement, and she's talking about what led her to this point. She says she never intended to get involved with activism--she's scared of people and her original intent was more along the lines of gathering trivia. But something happened along the way. She creates this metaphor:
Like--when I worked at Mount Rainier we followed a woman into the woods. She had become part owl. Her job was to entice them out. Our job was to carry the live mice. Somehow, after years of doing spotted owl survey, this woman's larynx changed. She croaked in a language that was articulated somewhere deeper than tonsils. Her tongue must have changed shape. We followed her through the woods on the northwest side of the mountain all day and saw no owls. And no owls croaked back at her. I think about how many of us doing any kind of progressive work in this region swim beneath the surface combing for what was here before, taking inventory of what is now. There's the chance that you will be changed by what you're looking for. Your tongue could change shape like the woman at Rainier.When I first read this paragraph I couldn't figure out where in the world the owls came from. What made Rachel talk about all these different, weird things? Not eight paragraphs later, she starts talking about how salmon talked her into a lifestyle change (still working on deciphering that one completely). But how does this stuff relate at all to anything she's talking about?
Then I started to memorize it, and somehow it dawned on me. And now that I understand it, I'm like, how could I not understand it? Duh.
The woman in the woods was just hired on to do the job, the spotted owl survey. She probably never intended to become so immersed in it. She certainly didn't plan on becoming "part owl." But, along the way, after years of doing the job, it began to change her. It became more than just a job she did. She was changed because of it. And Rachel is saying the same thing about herself. She never intended to be much more than a curious participant, standing off to the side and learning some things about the world and human rights and activism. And then it began to change her, and now she has to go.
The funny thing is, I think the same thing is happening to me that happened to Rachel and to the owl woman at Mount Rainier. Though, perhaps I did choose this project with a little more in mind than curious bystanding. But I'm beginning to get this inescapable feeling that my tongue is changing shape.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Gift Exchange
Taking Symbols and Imaging a second time has been fun - a chance to re-hear [rehearse?] some things that maybe fell out of my brain after the first time I took the class. I did all the reading for class the first time I took it, and the absence of the threat of a test meant that I really didn't feel like doing any of the reading this time around. But I've enjoyed just sitting in class again, not doing any of the outside work this time, and quite a bit has come back to me throughout the lectures.
After both times I've taken this class, I've started thinking in terms of sign theory. No, seriously. Every little thing starts popping out and reminding me of something we discussed in class. Maybe that's enough to classify me under the "nerd" label. But it's true.The following is something that popped out to me the other day, and I almost couldn't contain my indignation. Well, not 'almost' I guess. Obviously I couldn't, seeing as I'm sitting here writing about it.
gift
noun
1. something given voluntarily without payment in return, as to show favor toward someone.
exchange
verb
3. to give and receive reciprocally; interchange: to exchange blows.
How weird is it that in our culture we have paired these two words together?
One of the textbooks we use for class is titled Changing Signs of Truth by Crystal L. Downing, and this is an observation she makes in the book. She extrapolates on "the economy of exchange" from theorist Jacques Derrida. She points out that a gift is something that is given absolutely freely, with no strings attached, and not because it was in any way deserved. If it is truly a gift, it is not given in exchange for anything else. No transaction takes place. Because it's a gift. More often, our gifts are not gifts at all, but exchanges. We come to expect gifts on our birthdays because we deserve them because it's our birthday. We do "gift" exchanges with our family and friends at Christmastime. But these stray from the true definition of "gift." An attitude of exchange cheapens the value of a gift.
As Christians, we absolutely turn salvation into an exchange rather than seeing it for what it truly is: a gift. Grace--the free and unmerited favor of God given to man. She says that "as soon as we perceive strings attached, we no longer see it as a gift," and "rather than accept reconciliation with God as a gift available to any taker, religious people feel the need to do or say something in exchange for God's favor, believing that their extra efforts will earn them grace. Believing so, they undermine the very concept of grace." We don't "owe God good works" in exchange for the gift of salvation.
We don't have to do anything in order for the gift of salvation to be extended to us. Jesus said "follow me." That's all he said. The gift has already been extended to us. So why do we put qualifiers on it?
In the research I've been doing on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, I was given a book with a biblical perspective on some of the prophecy that can be found in scripture regarding Israel in the last days. At the end, apparently the author of the last chapter--"Practical Advice for Perilous Times"--felt the need to include what I will dub an "altar call," which he places in the last subdivision of the chapter, titled "Practical Advice to Those Who May Not Know Jesus Personally." The end of the book is really what you might find in any tract you happened to pick up: a four-step process to salvation. His precise words are, "All you need to do is to follow four simple steps to turn toward God and trust Him... and He will meet you where you are."
Going back to Downing and my Symbols and Imaging class, the questions that immediately came to my mind when I read this were, "Why four steps? Who decided it was four? Why these four? What happens if you don't complete all four exactly the way it's written in this little book?" The way the sentence reads is, if you do [these four steps exactly as I have written them for you here], then God will meet you where you are. An "economy of exchange."
Is it just me or is that contradictory? We have to get somewhere and then God will meet us where we are? I would have to say I disagree. I think God meets us where we are. Invites us to follow him. And that is all.
Printed out underneath the four neat little steps is a version of the "sinner's prayer." You know -
"Dear Lord Jesus, I know I am a sinner and need Your forgiveness. I believe that You died for my sins on the cross. I want to turn from my sins. I now invite You into my heart to forgive me and give me eternal life. I want to trust You as my Savior. Amen."
Where do we get that whole "invite You into my heart" bit? Unless I'm much mistaken, that's something we made up. Where does that even come from? Jesus never said, "Pray the sinner's prayer and you will be saved." He never said, "Ask me into your heart and you will be saved." He said "I am the way the truth and the life." He also said "Follow me."
I do realize that the steps are supposed to make it easier for people who have maybe never had a context for anything regarding the salvation of their souls. But I wonder if, sometimes, we give people the wrong idea from the get-go.
The phrase "meet you where you are" reminded me of a story.
After my freshman year, I took the Gen Ed New Testament class over May Term with a professor who is no longer teaching at IWU, Dr. Dave Smith. My class may have been one of his last--I don't remember--he left not too much later. To say that he made an impression on me would be accurate. He challenged me to think about things in ways I hadn't before, and I've grown up with Bible classes all my life. He forced me out of my comfort zone, and shed light on passages that I didn't know I'd never understood. He told life stories that I'll never forget, and upon completion of the class I seriously contemplated taking another religion class just to have him as a professor again. Before I found out he was leaving, that is. (And that's saying something. Call me un-Godly or un-Christian or something, but taking an Inductive Bible Study class just for funsies does not typically sound like a way I'd enjoy spending a semester.) I wish I'd had the chance to get to know him better. But all that to say that one of the stories Dr. Smith told comes to mind now whenever I hear the phrase "meet you where you are."
He said that he was in a church once--I think he was the pastor at the time. One Sunday, a woman who was a prostitute came to the church and sat at the back. She vanished before anyone else got up out of their seats to leave, but a couple Sundays later, he said, she was back again. And one Sunday, she walked up to the front of the church because she wanted to be saved. Dr. Smith said people stared at her all the way up the aisle in her mini-skirt, glittery high heels, loud and colorful low-cut top and heavy makeup. When she got to the altar, he asked if someone would come and pray with her. He said an older lady from the congregation got up and came to pray with her, and when she reached her, the woman knelt down beside her and asked her if she wanted to be saved. The woman who was a prostitute said that yes, she did, and the woman from the congregation said, "Well, let's wipe that makeup off your face." I'm pretty sure I remember Dr. Smith saying that it was all he could do to keep the anger out of his voice, but he immediately knelt down, looked at both of them and said, "She doesn't need to do anything. You can be saved right now--he'll meet you where you are. All you have to do is trust in him. Would you like to pray with me?"
It's not an economy of exchange. We don't need to do anything first before God will meet us where we are. That's the whole point. He's already there.
After both times I've taken this class, I've started thinking in terms of sign theory. No, seriously. Every little thing starts popping out and reminding me of something we discussed in class. Maybe that's enough to classify me under the "nerd" label. But it's true.The following is something that popped out to me the other day, and I almost couldn't contain my indignation. Well, not 'almost' I guess. Obviously I couldn't, seeing as I'm sitting here writing about it.
gift
noun
1. something given voluntarily without payment in return, as to show favor toward someone.
exchange
verb
3. to give and receive reciprocally; interchange: to exchange blows.
How weird is it that in our culture we have paired these two words together?
One of the textbooks we use for class is titled Changing Signs of Truth by Crystal L. Downing, and this is an observation she makes in the book. She extrapolates on "the economy of exchange" from theorist Jacques Derrida. She points out that a gift is something that is given absolutely freely, with no strings attached, and not because it was in any way deserved. If it is truly a gift, it is not given in exchange for anything else. No transaction takes place. Because it's a gift. More often, our gifts are not gifts at all, but exchanges. We come to expect gifts on our birthdays because we deserve them because it's our birthday. We do "gift" exchanges with our family and friends at Christmastime. But these stray from the true definition of "gift." An attitude of exchange cheapens the value of a gift.
As Christians, we absolutely turn salvation into an exchange rather than seeing it for what it truly is: a gift. Grace--the free and unmerited favor of God given to man. She says that "as soon as we perceive strings attached, we no longer see it as a gift," and "rather than accept reconciliation with God as a gift available to any taker, religious people feel the need to do or say something in exchange for God's favor, believing that their extra efforts will earn them grace. Believing so, they undermine the very concept of grace." We don't "owe God good works" in exchange for the gift of salvation.
We don't have to do anything in order for the gift of salvation to be extended to us. Jesus said "follow me." That's all he said. The gift has already been extended to us. So why do we put qualifiers on it?
In the research I've been doing on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, I was given a book with a biblical perspective on some of the prophecy that can be found in scripture regarding Israel in the last days. At the end, apparently the author of the last chapter--"Practical Advice for Perilous Times"--felt the need to include what I will dub an "altar call," which he places in the last subdivision of the chapter, titled "Practical Advice to Those Who May Not Know Jesus Personally." The end of the book is really what you might find in any tract you happened to pick up: a four-step process to salvation. His precise words are, "All you need to do is to follow four simple steps to turn toward God and trust Him... and He will meet you where you are."
Going back to Downing and my Symbols and Imaging class, the questions that immediately came to my mind when I read this were, "Why four steps? Who decided it was four? Why these four? What happens if you don't complete all four exactly the way it's written in this little book?" The way the sentence reads is, if you do [these four steps exactly as I have written them for you here], then God will meet you where you are. An "economy of exchange."
Is it just me or is that contradictory? We have to get somewhere and then God will meet us where we are? I would have to say I disagree. I think God meets us where we are. Invites us to follow him. And that is all.
Printed out underneath the four neat little steps is a version of the "sinner's prayer." You know -
"Dear Lord Jesus, I know I am a sinner and need Your forgiveness. I believe that You died for my sins on the cross. I want to turn from my sins. I now invite You into my heart to forgive me and give me eternal life. I want to trust You as my Savior. Amen."
Where do we get that whole "invite You into my heart" bit? Unless I'm much mistaken, that's something we made up. Where does that even come from? Jesus never said, "Pray the sinner's prayer and you will be saved." He never said, "Ask me into your heart and you will be saved." He said "I am the way the truth and the life." He also said "Follow me."
I do realize that the steps are supposed to make it easier for people who have maybe never had a context for anything regarding the salvation of their souls. But I wonder if, sometimes, we give people the wrong idea from the get-go.
The phrase "meet you where you are" reminded me of a story.
After my freshman year, I took the Gen Ed New Testament class over May Term with a professor who is no longer teaching at IWU, Dr. Dave Smith. My class may have been one of his last--I don't remember--he left not too much later. To say that he made an impression on me would be accurate. He challenged me to think about things in ways I hadn't before, and I've grown up with Bible classes all my life. He forced me out of my comfort zone, and shed light on passages that I didn't know I'd never understood. He told life stories that I'll never forget, and upon completion of the class I seriously contemplated taking another religion class just to have him as a professor again. Before I found out he was leaving, that is. (And that's saying something. Call me un-Godly or un-Christian or something, but taking an Inductive Bible Study class just for funsies does not typically sound like a way I'd enjoy spending a semester.) I wish I'd had the chance to get to know him better. But all that to say that one of the stories Dr. Smith told comes to mind now whenever I hear the phrase "meet you where you are."
He said that he was in a church once--I think he was the pastor at the time. One Sunday, a woman who was a prostitute came to the church and sat at the back. She vanished before anyone else got up out of their seats to leave, but a couple Sundays later, he said, she was back again. And one Sunday, she walked up to the front of the church because she wanted to be saved. Dr. Smith said people stared at her all the way up the aisle in her mini-skirt, glittery high heels, loud and colorful low-cut top and heavy makeup. When she got to the altar, he asked if someone would come and pray with her. He said an older lady from the congregation got up and came to pray with her, and when she reached her, the woman knelt down beside her and asked her if she wanted to be saved. The woman who was a prostitute said that yes, she did, and the woman from the congregation said, "Well, let's wipe that makeup off your face." I'm pretty sure I remember Dr. Smith saying that it was all he could do to keep the anger out of his voice, but he immediately knelt down, looked at both of them and said, "She doesn't need to do anything. You can be saved right now--he'll meet you where you are. All you have to do is trust in him. Would you like to pray with me?"
It's not an economy of exchange. We don't need to do anything first before God will meet us where we are. That's the whole point. He's already there.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Rachel Corrie Research: A World Unlocked
For a long time I've wondered whether I'm an introvert or an extrovert. Different people who have known me at different times of my life will probably have different answers--there was a time in my life when I and people who knew me would have answered "introvert" without thinking twice. As I've gone through phases of life, I've begun answering "extrovert," but I do have to think twice, because I'm never positive. I've taken numerous personality tests during my college career, and the results all spit out "extrovert," but only just barely. Usually, if I answer just one question differently it would spit out "introvert." They also say that no one can be both an introvert and an extrovert--you have to be one or the other (or one is more default than the other, like being right- or left-handed). I guess I understand that. I guess. But anyway.
All that to say that, while I despise having to talk to strangers, sell things, or participate in mingle meet-and-greets, I do definitely claim one characteristic of extroverts: I process out loud. When I'm thinking or sorting through something in my head, it can't just stay in my head. I need a sounding board; I need to think out loud (which, I could argue, is partially why this blog even exists). I have to talk things over with someone.
And so, a million thanks to my new running partner Adam (don't look so shocked - yes, I've started running) for being willing to listen to my jumbled thoughts through my agonized huffing and puffing every other day. And to my director, Dr. Katie, for letting me ramble my way through the craziest half-baked opinions over tea in her office.
I've started working ferociously on what will be my senior project (even at this point that's still a statement of faith--there are a lot of variables on this one)- a one-woman play called My Name is Rachel Corrie, about which there has already been a little bit of controversy. I'm moving forward on it, however. And along with producing any piece of theatre comes some dramaturgical work and background research, which I'm doing myself as a part of the project.
I was a newcomer to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict that is the backdrop of the play. Up to this point in my life I have not had much exposure to politics, including foreign policy matters. (I'm not sure whether it has anything to do with the fact that I grew up in a South American country or if that only makes it harder to believe.) My introductions to politics have come with 1) merely spending time in the Communication Division and 2) taking an American Civ after 1865 class in which history could not be separated from politics. But not even those introductions began to touch on the subject material I'm swimming in now.
I learned quite a bit about the Holocaust in several classes all through school of course--English, History, even Economics. We even learned a little bit about the modern state of Israel if I remember correctly. And in my junior year World History and senior year AP Government classes we studied some current events, but I was never the kid who got excited about history or current events and so never delved into them. I loved literature--the devastating awe of reading "The Diary of Anne Frank" and Elie Wiesel's "Night." But I was not prepared for the moral, ethical, intellectual, political, spiritual explosion that happened in my head when I started investigating the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
I feel like a little kid standing on my tiptoes trying to peer through a window into a room where a lot of grown-ups are arguing vehemently about something I'm having trouble understanding and trying to make sense of it all.
And this is where the processing comes in. I am having trouble grasping everything. I'm struggling with trying to make up my mind and construct my own opinions. I'm struggling to know when I should try to make up my own mind and when I should ask the opinions of people older and wiser than I. I'm struggling with the ethics. I'm struggling with the way my own faith, in some ways, seems to complicate my interpretations and understanding rather than facilitate them. I'm struggling with not having a background in politics to begin with. I'm struggling with what I assume those close to me expect me to think and what I discover. And I'm struggling with the concept that ethics and faith do not always seem to match up.
And then, through it all, I'm also trying to piece together how Rachel Corrie saw it all.
I know two things for sure, though. Firstly, an entire world has been unlocked to me. And while I've decided to leave the actual "processing" for my rehearsals with Dr. Katie and my running sessions with Adam and absent from this post, I can report that I now wonder more than once a day how much other stuff in the world I'm missing. And, secondly, I recognize that I still have a very long way to go, and that I will not remotely resemble an expert on this even by the time of my first performance of My Name is Rachel Corrie in the fall.
Nineteen pages into the script, Rachel has just arrived in Jerusalem in January, 2003. Writing in her journal, she explains,
All that to say that, while I despise having to talk to strangers, sell things, or participate in mingle meet-and-greets, I do definitely claim one characteristic of extroverts: I process out loud. When I'm thinking or sorting through something in my head, it can't just stay in my head. I need a sounding board; I need to think out loud (which, I could argue, is partially why this blog even exists). I have to talk things over with someone.
And so, a million thanks to my new running partner Adam (don't look so shocked - yes, I've started running) for being willing to listen to my jumbled thoughts through my agonized huffing and puffing every other day. And to my director, Dr. Katie, for letting me ramble my way through the craziest half-baked opinions over tea in her office.
I've started working ferociously on what will be my senior project (even at this point that's still a statement of faith--there are a lot of variables on this one)- a one-woman play called My Name is Rachel Corrie, about which there has already been a little bit of controversy. I'm moving forward on it, however. And along with producing any piece of theatre comes some dramaturgical work and background research, which I'm doing myself as a part of the project.
I was a newcomer to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict that is the backdrop of the play. Up to this point in my life I have not had much exposure to politics, including foreign policy matters. (I'm not sure whether it has anything to do with the fact that I grew up in a South American country or if that only makes it harder to believe.) My introductions to politics have come with 1) merely spending time in the Communication Division and 2) taking an American Civ after 1865 class in which history could not be separated from politics. But not even those introductions began to touch on the subject material I'm swimming in now.
I learned quite a bit about the Holocaust in several classes all through school of course--English, History, even Economics. We even learned a little bit about the modern state of Israel if I remember correctly. And in my junior year World History and senior year AP Government classes we studied some current events, but I was never the kid who got excited about history or current events and so never delved into them. I loved literature--the devastating awe of reading "The Diary of Anne Frank" and Elie Wiesel's "Night." But I was not prepared for the moral, ethical, intellectual, political, spiritual explosion that happened in my head when I started investigating the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
I feel like a little kid standing on my tiptoes trying to peer through a window into a room where a lot of grown-ups are arguing vehemently about something I'm having trouble understanding and trying to make sense of it all.
And this is where the processing comes in. I am having trouble grasping everything. I'm struggling with trying to make up my mind and construct my own opinions. I'm struggling to know when I should try to make up my own mind and when I should ask the opinions of people older and wiser than I. I'm struggling with the ethics. I'm struggling with the way my own faith, in some ways, seems to complicate my interpretations and understanding rather than facilitate them. I'm struggling with not having a background in politics to begin with. I'm struggling with what I assume those close to me expect me to think and what I discover. And I'm struggling with the concept that ethics and faith do not always seem to match up.
And then, through it all, I'm also trying to piece together how Rachel Corrie saw it all.
I know two things for sure, though. Firstly, an entire world has been unlocked to me. And while I've decided to leave the actual "processing" for my rehearsals with Dr. Katie and my running sessions with Adam and absent from this post, I can report that I now wonder more than once a day how much other stuff in the world I'm missing. And, secondly, I recognize that I still have a very long way to go, and that I will not remotely resemble an expert on this even by the time of my first performance of My Name is Rachel Corrie in the fall.
Nineteen pages into the script, Rachel has just arrived in Jerusalem in January, 2003. Writing in her journal, she explains,
The scariest thing for non-Jewish Americans in talking about Palestinian self-determination is the fear of being or sounding anti-Semitic. The people of Israel are suffering, and Jewish people have a long history of oppression. We still have some responsibility for that, but I think it's important to draw a firm distinction between the policies of Israel, as a state, and Jewish people... Anyway, this kind of stuff I just think about all the time and my ideas evolve. I'm really new to talking about Israel-Palestine, so I don't always know the political implications of my words.Believe me when I say that I won't have to try hard to make those words believable. She took the words right out of my mouth. Actually, I guess I'm taking them right out of hers.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Breathing
Today, in my May Term class that I'm auditing--Symbols and Imaging--we watched the movie Signs, directed by M. Night Shyamalan. Obviously it seems to make a good deal of sense, watching a movie called "Signs" in a class called "Symbols and Imaging."
I actually have a little bit of history with this movie. Signs was released in 2002--I would have been eleven years old. I watched it for the first time at a friend's birthday slumber party when I was in sixth grade. Unfortunately, my apparently highly impressionable mind proceeded to have nightmares for the next four months or so. Not that Signs is a particularly scary movie, but I had, at that point, not been exposed to any truly scary movies, and so this one proved to be rather traumatic for me. Happily, since then, I have watched the movie a number of times, and it has actually become one of my favorites.
I've been in a couple of youth groups and Sunday School classes where clips of the movie were used as an illustration. Every time it was the same clip: the clip of Mel Gibson's character, Graham, talking to his brother Merrill (played by Joaquin Phoenix), about the lights that have appeared in the sky that they know are most likely the lights of extraterrestrial ships hovering over earth. Graham says:
"People break down into two groups. When they experience something lucky, group number one sees it as more than luck, more than coincidence. They see it as a sign, evidence, that there is someone up there, watching out for them. Group number two sees it as just pure luck. Just a happy turn of chance. I'm sure the people in group number two are looking at those fourteen lights in a very suspicious way. For them, the situation is a fifty-fifty. Could be bad, could be good. But deep down, they feel that whatever happens, they're on their own. And that fills them with fear. Yeah, there are those people. But there's a whole lot of people in group number one. When they see those fourteen lights, they're looking at a miracle. And deep down, they feel that whatever's going to happen, there will be someone there to help them. And that fills them with hope. See what you have to ask yourself is what kind of person are you? Are you the kind that sees signs, that sees miracles? Or do you believe that people just get lucky? Or, look at the question this way: Is it possible that there are no coincidences?"
I do like this scene, and I see how it is very applicable, especially for a Symbols and Imaging class. A basic definition of "sign" is "something that stands for something else." To group number one, the lights were something that stood for something else--they stood for the higher power watching over them and let them know that they were not on their own.
But, despite the lessons and philosophy that can be gleaned from that clip, it is not my favorite one in the movie. My favorite scene comes when the family--Graham (a reverend whose wife's death has caused him to question his faith), his two kids Morgan and Bo, and his brother Merrill, have locked themselves in the basement of their house to escape the extraterrestrials that would undoubtedly kill them on sight. In a moment of panic, Graham's son Morgan barely escapes the clutches of a frightening clawed hand down the coal chute in the basement. The scene plunges into darkness momentarily but we then see Merrill, blocking the chute with a big pile of bags of dog food. The audience breathes a sigh of relief, until the camera shifts to show us Graham, holding his son Morgan to him. Morgan is suffering an asthma attack, and his inhaler and asthma medications are all unreachable, still up in the house. The scene that follows is, to me, the most beautiful in the movie:
I actually have a little bit of history with this movie. Signs was released in 2002--I would have been eleven years old. I watched it for the first time at a friend's birthday slumber party when I was in sixth grade. Unfortunately, my apparently highly impressionable mind proceeded to have nightmares for the next four months or so. Not that Signs is a particularly scary movie, but I had, at that point, not been exposed to any truly scary movies, and so this one proved to be rather traumatic for me. Happily, since then, I have watched the movie a number of times, and it has actually become one of my favorites.
I've been in a couple of youth groups and Sunday School classes where clips of the movie were used as an illustration. Every time it was the same clip: the clip of Mel Gibson's character, Graham, talking to his brother Merrill (played by Joaquin Phoenix), about the lights that have appeared in the sky that they know are most likely the lights of extraterrestrial ships hovering over earth. Graham says:
"People break down into two groups. When they experience something lucky, group number one sees it as more than luck, more than coincidence. They see it as a sign, evidence, that there is someone up there, watching out for them. Group number two sees it as just pure luck. Just a happy turn of chance. I'm sure the people in group number two are looking at those fourteen lights in a very suspicious way. For them, the situation is a fifty-fifty. Could be bad, could be good. But deep down, they feel that whatever happens, they're on their own. And that fills them with fear. Yeah, there are those people. But there's a whole lot of people in group number one. When they see those fourteen lights, they're looking at a miracle. And deep down, they feel that whatever's going to happen, there will be someone there to help them. And that fills them with hope. See what you have to ask yourself is what kind of person are you? Are you the kind that sees signs, that sees miracles? Or do you believe that people just get lucky? Or, look at the question this way: Is it possible that there are no coincidences?"
I do like this scene, and I see how it is very applicable, especially for a Symbols and Imaging class. A basic definition of "sign" is "something that stands for something else." To group number one, the lights were something that stood for something else--they stood for the higher power watching over them and let them know that they were not on their own.
But, despite the lessons and philosophy that can be gleaned from that clip, it is not my favorite one in the movie. My favorite scene comes when the family--Graham (a reverend whose wife's death has caused him to question his faith), his two kids Morgan and Bo, and his brother Merrill, have locked themselves in the basement of their house to escape the extraterrestrials that would undoubtedly kill them on sight. In a moment of panic, Graham's son Morgan barely escapes the clutches of a frightening clawed hand down the coal chute in the basement. The scene plunges into darkness momentarily but we then see Merrill, blocking the chute with a big pile of bags of dog food. The audience breathes a sigh of relief, until the camera shifts to show us Graham, holding his son Morgan to him. Morgan is suffering an asthma attack, and his inhaler and asthma medications are all unreachable, still up in the house. The scene that follows is, to me, the most beautiful in the movie:
This scene isn't just about Morgan overcoming his asthma attack. It's a bigger metaphor.
"Feel my chest. Feel it moving in and out--breathe like me. Stay with me. I know it hurts--be strong, baby. It'll pass. It'll pass... Don't be afraid, Morgan. Feel my chest. Breathe with me. Together. We're the same. We're the same. We're the same."
This scene isn't just about Morgan's struggle to breathe, to me. It's also a metaphor for the family's struggle for survival and their fight with their fear. And perhaps most poignantly, it's also a metaphor for Graham's struggle with God. And in his struggle, I can see my own.
Since his wife's death, Graham has questioned his faith and questioned God. Graham talks to God in this scene, pleading "Don't do this to me again. Not again," and then finally hisses, "I hate you. I hate you!" echoing his own son, who said those very words to him not even an hour before at dinner.
This scene is a vivid visual representation of how I have felt at times in my life. In the times when I feel like I am drowning, or in the times when I feel animosity toward God, or in the times when I am afraid and doubting, this is exactly what God does with me. "Feel my chest. Breathe with me. Together."
Maybe that doesn't make any sense to anyone but me, but I can't help but leak tears every time I watch this scene.
In Symbols and Imaging, we talk about the act of (re)signing--the process of taking something that means one thing and changing it--(re)signing it--to mean something new. Jesus did this with the Jewish Passover meal--he took the bread and the wine and (re)signed them to have new [sign]ificance--they were now a sign that stood for his body and his blood. The movie Signs used to give me nightmares, but I've (re)signed it. Because now it reminds me of how I'm loved.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
An extension of this morning's post
A couple of other posts worth considering:
http://rachelheldevans.com/win-culture-war-lose-generation-amendment-one-north-carolina
http://www.danoah.com/2011/11/im-christian-unless-youre-gay.html
From Rachel Held Evans:
"And when it comes to homosexuality, we no longer think in the black-and-white categories of the generations before ours. We know too many wonderful people from the LGBT community to consider homosexuality a mere 'issue.' These are people, and they are our friends. When they tell us that something hurts them, we listen. And Amendment One hurts like hell."
From Dan Pearce:
"No, what makes somebody love, accept, and befriend their fellow man is letting go of a need to be better than others.
Nothing else.
I know there are many here who believe that living a homosexual life is a sin.
Okay.
But, what does that have to do with love?
It has nothing to do with encouraging them in their practice of what you or I might feel or believe is wrong vs right.
It has everything to do with being a good human being. A good person. A good friend.
That’s all.
To put our arm around somebody who is different. Why is that so hard?"
http://rachelheldevans.com/win-culture-war-lose-generation-amendment-one-north-carolina
http://www.danoah.com/2011/11/im-christian-unless-youre-gay.html
From Rachel Held Evans:
"And when it comes to homosexuality, we no longer think in the black-and-white categories of the generations before ours. We know too many wonderful people from the LGBT community to consider homosexuality a mere 'issue.' These are people, and they are our friends. When they tell us that something hurts them, we listen. And Amendment One hurts like hell."
From Dan Pearce:
"No, what makes somebody love, accept, and befriend their fellow man is letting go of a need to be better than others.
Nothing else.
I know there are many here who believe that living a homosexual life is a sin.
Okay.
But, what does that have to do with love?
It has nothing to do with encouraging them in their practice of what you or I might feel or believe is wrong vs right.
It has everything to do with being a good human being. A good person. A good friend.
That’s all.
To put our arm around somebody who is different. Why is that so hard?"
"Loving to a Fault"
I just read this article, and if you have a few minutes, I think you should too:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/derek-flood/jesus-homosexuality_b_1442195.html
It's a commentary on what a Christian's stance should be on the issue of homosexuality that I profoundly agree with. Considering the decision made in North Carolina just in the past 24 hours, I thought it was extremely appropriate and timely. I hadn't heard of Derek Flood before, but I'm a new fan, and you can bet your boots I now follow him on Twitter.
I think that one of the things I love most about the article is that he never shares what he personally thinks about the rightness or wrongness of homosexuality.
"Now you may have noticed that I didn't ever say what I thought about whether homosexuality was wrong or right. I didn't say because this is not about me and what I think. It's about us as Christians learning to care about what Jesus cares about."
My personal views on homosexuality have been in constant change ever since the first time I confronted the issue. And my views are still changing. Like Derek Flood, I think that, for now, I'm going to forego sharing my views on the subject in favor of sharing what I will strive for my actions to be.
"If we want to follow Jesus, then we need to have that same reputation of loving to a fault. We need to be so radically accepting that we are misunderstood and judged like Jesus. If we really do love Jesus, then we need to love like he did, so much so that it seems "scandalous" in the eyes the religious folks of our day, just like it did in his day."
Amen. Amen amen amen amen. AMEN.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/derek-flood/jesus-homosexuality_b_1442195.html
It's a commentary on what a Christian's stance should be on the issue of homosexuality that I profoundly agree with. Considering the decision made in North Carolina just in the past 24 hours, I thought it was extremely appropriate and timely. I hadn't heard of Derek Flood before, but I'm a new fan, and you can bet your boots I now follow him on Twitter.
I think that one of the things I love most about the article is that he never shares what he personally thinks about the rightness or wrongness of homosexuality.
"Now you may have noticed that I didn't ever say what I thought about whether homosexuality was wrong or right. I didn't say because this is not about me and what I think. It's about us as Christians learning to care about what Jesus cares about."
My personal views on homosexuality have been in constant change ever since the first time I confronted the issue. And my views are still changing. Like Derek Flood, I think that, for now, I'm going to forego sharing my views on the subject in favor of sharing what I will strive for my actions to be.
"If we want to follow Jesus, then we need to have that same reputation of loving to a fault. We need to be so radically accepting that we are misunderstood and judged like Jesus. If we really do love Jesus, then we need to love like he did, so much so that it seems "scandalous" in the eyes the religious folks of our day, just like it did in his day."
Amen. Amen amen amen amen. AMEN.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Unidentifying
I guess what I'm wondering today is this.
When talking about Christian celebrities (whether they claim to associate themselves in some way with the Christian faith or whether these beliefs are attributed to them), many Christians dismiss certain ones. Let me know if this sounds familiar to you:
"Well, [insert celebrity's name here] isn't really a good example."
"[That celebrity] probably isn't really a Christian. He/She can't be. He/She [insert sin here]. He/She claims to be a Christian but his/her life shows otherwise."
And so we have people like the Catholic Mel Gibson, who has given us such work as "The Passion of the Christ," but we have no desire to associate ourselves with him because of comments he made publicly, his highly publicized divorce, alleged affairs and the list could keep going.
I also think of Jon Gosselin - the reality television star parent of eight children with his wife, Kate. People referenced the couple's faith frequently until it was made public that the couple was filing for divorce and, subsequently, stories began coming to light of Jon's alleged affairs and relationships with other women.
I'm not condoning their behavior. I am not advocating looking to celebrities as role models, but I am also not saying that it should not be done. I am not saying that these celebrities should be role models. I am not saying that they should not be. All I am wondering about today is this.
Why do we vilify them? Why are we so quick to turn our backs and unidentify ourselves from them? What gives us the right to question whether or not they have faith or what their relationship with God is like?
Maybe I'm completely off base. But that's what I'm wondering about today.
When talking about Christian celebrities (whether they claim to associate themselves in some way with the Christian faith or whether these beliefs are attributed to them), many Christians dismiss certain ones. Let me know if this sounds familiar to you:
"Well, [insert celebrity's name here] isn't really a good example."
"[That celebrity] probably isn't really a Christian. He/She can't be. He/She [insert sin here]. He/She claims to be a Christian but his/her life shows otherwise."
And so we have people like the Catholic Mel Gibson, who has given us such work as "The Passion of the Christ," but we have no desire to associate ourselves with him because of comments he made publicly, his highly publicized divorce, alleged affairs and the list could keep going.
I also think of Jon Gosselin - the reality television star parent of eight children with his wife, Kate. People referenced the couple's faith frequently until it was made public that the couple was filing for divorce and, subsequently, stories began coming to light of Jon's alleged affairs and relationships with other women.
I'm not condoning their behavior. I am not advocating looking to celebrities as role models, but I am also not saying that it should not be done. I am not saying that these celebrities should be role models. I am not saying that they should not be. All I am wondering about today is this.
Why do we vilify them? Why are we so quick to turn our backs and unidentify ourselves from them? What gives us the right to question whether or not they have faith or what their relationship with God is like?
Maybe I'm completely off base. But that's what I'm wondering about today.
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