Overcoming the Tyranny of Translation: Genesis 5:2

I just had a wonderful Hebrew Bible light bulb moment, sitting in my usual spot at my (now-)usual Philz, working on homework. Here's how it happened...

I am currently in the home stretch on my master's thesis. Not to make excuses and get all off-topic, but if any of my handful of readers has been wondering why the most recent post since this one is from summer of 2017, look no further. The title of my thesis (if I don't change it again) is, Queer Diakonia:  The Role of the Diaconate in Welcoming LGBTQ People to the Episcopal Church. Once it's done I'm sure I will post (and crow) about it more than is seemly; but for now, please let that provide a little context.

OK, so. One of the last things I am slotting into my paper is a brief interview with Archdeacon David Stickley, who has been a great support through my journey, a good friend and an excellent example of how to deacon. How to be a deacon. Whatever - I still prefer it as a verb. I sent David a short list of interview questions very last minute and he was kind enough to respond overnight, so that I could include some of his answers in my draft if I wanted (which... I was in the process of doing when I got sidetracked to write this and which I need to get back to fairly immediately). 

One of David's replies jumped out at me:

My own personal theology, I have come to realize, is all wrapped up in our Creation Story. When God made that first being, Adam (literally, "being"), God made "them male and female." Possibly the first use of "them" for the singular, and pointing to the first human being both male and female before they were separated to be helpers and supporters of each other - the fundamental tasks of every single human being born to them, and after them. 

And God, after finishing all this work, said, "It is very good." Not "Some of it is very good, and I ain't sure about the rest..." 

Food for thought! As I responded to David, why have I never gotten that use of they as singular? Ah! Because my go-to study Bible (NRSV), uses the plural mankind in place of the Hebrew adam, which the KJV has capitalized as a singular name... and now I'm down a rabbit hole of comparing translations of Genesis 5:2 (see below if you like).

So why "tyranny"? Well first because in a shiny ADD moment, I originally wrote the above sentence and misspelled "translations" as "tyranslations"... and thought, "the tyranny of translation? Ooh, yes! I may need to find a place to use that." (Well, OK, the first thought of course was Tyrannosaurus...)

Second and more importantly, words from the Bible - especially certain passages, especially in certain translations and especially under the umbrella of Christianity - have been used to judge, condemn, exclude and harm LGBTQ+ people for far too long. As I mention in my thesis, 

Much of the current justification for persecution of queer people by Christians can be traced to inaccurate translations and/or poor interpretations, and or taking the writings out of their historical and cultural contexts.

In his blog post, The Bible does not condemn “homosexuality.” Seriously, it doesn’t, Adam Nicholas Phillips, the founding pastor for Christ Church Portland, notes that, “The word 'homosexuality' didn’t even show up in English translations of the Bible until 1946, so why do we say the Bible condemns it?” What Phillips refers to as the “trouble verses” (also called the "clobber verses" by many), are: Genesis 19:5, Leviticus 18:22, Leviticus 20:13, Romans 1:26-27, 1 Corinthians 6:9-11, and 1 Timothy 1:9-10.

But here's the Litmus test I use for actual Christian teaching, expressed so eloquently by Episcopal Archbishop Michael Curry:

If it’s not about love, then it’s not about God.

++++++ For the Bible Geeks (or anyone who wants to be) ++++++

Without further ado, here is what Genesis 5:2-3 looks like, in a few translations (the highlighted words in each are cited as that Bible's translation of the Hebrew word adam or adamah):

(ESV) Male and female he created them, and he blessed them and named them Man when they were created. When Adam had lived 130 years, he fathered a son in his own likeness, after his image, and named him Seth. .

(NRSV) Male and female he created them, and he blessed them and named them “Humankind”when they were created. When Adam had lived one hundred thirty years, he became the father of a son in his likeness, according to his image, and named him Seth.

(KJV)  Male and female created he them; and blessed them, and called their name Adam, in the day when they were created. And Adam lived an hundred and thirty years, and begat a son in his own likeness, and after his image; and called his name Seth

While I don't often cite Wikipedia (and close to never in academic work), I did find its treatment of the etymology of the word adam of interest. (And unlike in my thesis work, I am not going to take the time here to find better, deeper or more scholarly sources... too many rabbit holes in that field). Here is what the wiki said:

Adam (אדם) literally means "red", and there is an etymological connection between adam and adamah, adamah designating "red clay" or "red ground" in a non-theological context.^[7]In traditional Jewish theology, a strong etymological connection between the two words is often assumed. Maimonides believed the word adam to be derived from the word adamah, analogous to the way in which mankind was created from the ground.^[8] In contemporary biblical scholarship there is a general consensus that the words have an etymological relationship, but the exact nature of it is disputed. The word adam has no feminine form in Hebrew, but if it did, it would be adamah.^[6] However, it is considered unlikely that the word adamah is a feminization of "adam", and the prevailing hypothesis is that both words originate from the verbal stem "adam" (to be red) and were chosen by the author of Genesis to convey the relationship between man and the adamah.^[7][9]

____________________
Wikipedia listing for adamah: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adamah

Coffee and Compassion

I saw something lovely this morning...

I was at Philz Coffee, hoping to do some prayerful journaling and have a little reflection time before diving into the busyness of my work day.

I placed my order, found a table in the common room, went downstairs to pay for my tea and there witnessed a sweet scene going on. There were two uniformed police offers, one man & one woman, and two or three men in street clothes with them (friends? co-workers out of uniform?), talking and getting coffee. One of the latter was trying to pay for the group's coffees, while the uniformed officers were leaning in on either side of him; from what I could tell, trying to get their money to the cashier instead. The cashier said, don't worry, it's good - already paid. When they asked, the cashier pointed out a man standing at the counter. He was in casual clothes with a strand of wooden Buddhist prayer beads around his neck. He smiled when they thanked him and said he really appreciates all that they do.

A small thing, but a kind one. 

The officers and their friends moved to a high table across the room from the one I was seated at, chatting and laughing boisterously together. One of the men in uniform opened a home-wrapped sandwich and started eating it. This made me smile because earlier when I entered the cafe I had walked past their group and overheard them bantering and discussing it, teasing him a little as someone said "wow! I can't remember the last time my wife made me a sandwich... maybe not ever." The group laughed good-naturedly and I smiled, hoping that maybe the speaker's wife would do so for him sometime soon.

A small thing, done with love.

So why a story about coffee and sandwiches? What does this have to do with my religious growth and journey? Everything, really.

I have been reading and listening to a book in the past few weeks called, The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World. It is the account of an extraordinary and poignantly sweet discussion between Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the 14th Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso; two world-renowned and esteemed octogenarian faith leaders from very different traditions having a deep and inspiring conversation about the nature of human relatedness and how to bring more joy into a world rife with pain and hardship for so very many people. They spoke not about brief, fleeting happiness based on material objects or situations but finding and creating deep, true joy that can transform our lives and the lives of others, even - or perhaps especially - in the midst of suffering. I've been touched by listening to the conversation and know that I will read it over again when I get the chance, to delve further into what these amazing men have to say. When I pulled up to Philz this morning, listening to the audio version, the discussion was on the joy we get from giving, from showing compassion and bringing joy to another. It can be so simple to do a small kindness for another person; just a little something letting them know that you appreciate them, that you see them and acknowledge their co-humanity with you.

And then, getting back to the officers, this happened - which struck me deeply enough that I felt compelled to share it with the local news source (Berkeleyside), in case they might be able to pass on my appreciation to the officers by posting it.

Kindness leading to kindness.

It was a lovely early morning hour. I got the journaling, prayer and reflection time I'd been hoping for - though certainly not in the manner I'd expected - and an extra dose of faith in humanity to-boot, just from seeing these random acts of compassion unfolding around me. Perhaps in reading this, you will also receive a bit of joy or faith to take with you in your day, or will do something kind for another person; and the cycle will continue. As the Archbishop and the Dalai Lama have said, it's all about the joy we can find by giving joy to others.

Wishing you joy! ~ Ari

That Time When I Was Mistaken for a Member of the KKK While Administering Holy Ashes

Perhaps I should take a moment to back up and explain.

Today is Ash Wednesday: the beginning of the season of Lent and one of the more somber days on the church calendar. It's also a particular favorite of mine. Ash Wednesday is for reflection, slowing down, looking at where you may have strayed away from God and discerning what you might do to bring yourself closer over the next 40 days in preparation for Easter. To mark the beginning of Lent (after the pancake-and-Jambalaya feast of Mardi Gras - Fat Tuesday), many Christians engage in the practice of memento mori: recalling that "we are dust and to dust we shall return", and sealing that reminder with a smudge of ashes made from burnt Palm Sunday palm fronds imposed on the forehead, usually in the shape of a cross.

Two years ago, a parishioner at my church began a wonderful ministry called Ashes on the Way - sending lay ministers to nearby locations with ashes and prayer cards, to offer to folks who for various reasons might not otherwise have the opportunity to mark the beginning of Lent with ashes. To many this tradition is held very dear and serves as a transition point to bring them into the Lenten season.

Last year (my first time helping to bring ashes to the streets) there were four of us and we wore everyday clothes. This year, seven people participated, in morning and afternoon shifts. There were four of us again at BART for the noon lunch commute and in hopes of being more recognizable in our role and bringing more people in to talk to us, we wore albs: white ankle-length robes, with rope cinctures to belt them.

So try and picture this for a moment: four well-meaning Episcopalians wearing long, white robes, some with hoods down against our shoulders, standing on the sidewalk in front of the Downtown Berkeley BART station. In 2017. In our current political climate. It may be that we didn't think this through all the way. Among business-suited commuters, folks rushing to or from errands and tourists of every sort, there were a large number of African American teens - most likely returning to Berkeley High after lunch. Some looked at us oddly, one or two did a double-take and then one boy said,

"Wow, look - KKK!"

I was caught off-guard but quickly turned and replied "no, not at all" with a smile and we kept walking. The next group gave us the same, wary looks. Right. Four White people (granted, we were all women) standing on the sidewalk in long, white robes. Got it. Yikes.

We discussed whether maybe we should lose the albs altogether, but decided to give it a little time and see whether we couldn't use it as an opportunity to engage people. So we started to ask folks who walked by whether they would like ashes for Ash Wednesday, making it a point to direct the question especially towards younger people of color and others who gave us that particular look that we'd quickly come to understand meant, "What are Klan people doing in Berkeley?" One African American woman probably in her seventies came up to us happily, to receive ashes. There had been some teens near her talking about us, and she said, I know you're not Ku Klux Klan. I told them - you're Sisters! God gave me the ability to discern and I know you don't have evil in you. But some of these younger folks don't - so I told them." It was a truly lovely moment.

We split into two pairs to take different BART entryways and proceeded to ask, smile, mark foreheads with ashes, inform people about what we were doing and share a few prayer cards.

Offer, smile, smudge, rinse, repeat.

We were a LOT busier than we'd been last year; enough so, that we gave up on the original plan - one of us placing ashes and the other handing out cards - and both opened our containers of ash so we could give them to everyone who wanted them!

We often missed people who walked behind or around us while we were engaged with others, including a new group of African American teens, most of them girls, who gave us looks and started chatting excitedly amongst themselves. One girl came towards me, evidently having told one of her friends to take a picture of her standing next to the women in (unbelievably!) long, white robes.

As she approached, I smiled and asked, "would you like ashes for Ash Wednesday?"... and she stopped, with a surprised look on her face. Then her face lit up and she smiled back at me and said, "OH!"... and then, "Yes!". I imposed the ashes on her forehead and she turned and ran back to her group, laughing.

As they headed on their way, I heard a couple of them question her (why she'd talked to me, I'm guessing) and she said, in a clear voice that carried quite well and as if she'd known it all the time, "What were YOU thinking? It's Ash Wednesday, bitches!"

/3/1/17

On the Way with Ashes

I was originally going to title this post, Get Your Ash Over Here; but I'm pretty sure that sort of thing is frowned upon, and I don't want anyone to think I'm belittling or being dismissive about a practice that actually touched me very deeply. But this is about a "Takin' it to the Streets" kind of thing, and it seemed like maybe a little levity was allowable. And besides, I was reminded that last year some Lutheran churches used Get Your Ash in Church for their Ash Wednesday signage; so I'm not the only one who couldn't resist the word-play. What? Lent? Oh alright then - I will rescind the alternate title suggestion. As of the end of this paragraph, you can strike that from the record...

The point is - ashes. And not just any old fireplace or even bonfire ashes... palm ashes by way of what is lovingly called at our church, the Holy Hibachi. So, ashes. In a pyx (do I get extra points for using one of last week's vocabulary words?). On the way to... wherever.

Three fellow parishioners and I met up at Downtown Berkeley BART on Ash Wednesday, for Ashes on the Way. Folks were coming and going to and from wherever they were coming and going to and from, and we were there to offer and provide ashes to anyone who wanted or needed them to help get the Season of Lent underway. Emily met me first and we chatted while waiting for Danielle who had the signs. Danielle arrived, bringing  two pyxes (or... pyxies? Pixies! Hmm... ashes as fairy dust...), a bunch of lovely wallet-sized prayer cards, larger handouts describing Memento Mori (with Niebuhr's Serenity Prayer on the back) and two great A-frame chalkboards for signage (which I thought were hugely helpful).


Caitlin joined us (you know, with a B-named person, we would have had A, B, C, D and E... oops, sorry... shiny moment) and we split into two pairs, with Danielle & Caitlin going across the street to another BART entryway while Emily & I stayed put. I'd love to say, "and ashes were had by all"... but no; certainly not in the secular and largely academic People's Republic of Berkeley - I've lived here too long to expect that. Ashes were, however, had by many - along with smiles, conversations, prayer cards and explanations about Memento Mori (have you Googled it yet?).

There's something about bringing the sacred out to meet others where they are, that calls to me... that calls me. When people approached (or replied to our invitation - we didn't always wait silently, it's true), we shared stories, imposed ashes, chatted, taught a little, and even agreed to a free hug or two... it was street ministry, and I found myself in a sacramental experience in the way that St. Augustine defined it - sharing "an outward and visible sign of an inward and invisible grace". We were there to serve, to practice loving our neighbors and to be conduits for that grace by way of ash and prayer... as I've often heard at church, "blessed to be a blessing to others".

I feel strongly (and tend to get excited) about different ministries both within and outside of church walls and Sundays, and have been questioned about it by a few people who were concerned when I said (rather enthusiastically), "This feels like something I'm really called to" or "this is what I'm supposed to be doing" more than once... or twice. Welcome to my Shiny Thoughts. Remember? "Look - squirrel!" Right. It's for reals. At the risk of sounding defensive (though I hope not), I'm actually not fickle (or dishonest, or confused, or undecided)... rather, I'm open to change, adaptable, excited about new opportunities and have always had the ability to feel the sacred in many different places; especially that last one. Each thing I've learned on this journey, each new ministry I've undertaken, has touched me deeply, changed me in some way and become dear to me.  And I feel I've come to that place in the way I agreed to at my Baptism: in community and with God's help. I haven't done and can't do any of this alone... it's taken a lot of prayer, meditation, contemplation, Sundays in church and knowing I have a family, a parish and a school full of people behind me to get to where I am now... and I have to say, I like the view from here. Ashes on the Way is my new Best Thing Ever in ministry, and I have a feeling it will be for a long time to come... and... I can't wait to see what the Spirit brings me to next.

/2/19/16

The Not-so-silent Letter "B"

So, a couple of months ago I was asked to write an article for an online magazine called Episcopal Cafe. I've followed it for a while and have enjoyed many of the articles and the discussions they provoke, and frankly felt honored to do it. I was going to copy what I wrote here and started a draft post but never got around to doing anything with it until today... because a message I received fulfilled my reason for posting it. The article is titled, "Where Are the B in LGBT?" and I've linked to it here so copying verbatim seems unnecessary - besides their readership far (Far) outstrips mine.

I'm bisexual (I think I've mentioned this already, but for the record), monogamously married and (barring that brief stint in the LDS church) have always been comfortable with my identity. The article is about invisibility and the (seeming) lack of bisexuals everywhere, specifically in the Episcopal Church. It's about why it's so very important for our voices to be heard.

I was contacted this morning by someone I'd never met before, "D", who looked me up to share his story with me. He is lay not ordained, married and new to the EC. D read my article and says he was inspired by it and felt it was time to be open about who he really is and come out as bisexual. He invited me to read the blog post he'd put up today, and I was deeply moved. I am humbled by the bravery of people (yes, I mean you) and the workings of Grace.

God's Grace is everywhere around us. It's in large and small things, in thin places and in crowded cities, in quiet contemplation, and cacophony... and it's made itself apparent in the life of one more person who now feels OK with himself and knows that God loves him as he is.

How many more moments of Grace might be waiting to happen?

Where will it strike next?

/1/8/16

Abolishing Religion

I'm getting tired of the assertion that "religion" - maybe I should say, "Religion" with a capital R - is responsible for all the evils in the world and the idea that all Christians (or Muslims, or other people of faith for that matter) are ignorant, fanatical and intolerant. I have increasingly seen variations on these themes, mostly by people identifying as agnostic, atheist, New Age or "spiritual-but-not-religious", often implying or culminating in the idea that if we banned or abolished all religion, this would go away.  No more evil, no more bad or hateful or harmful people left to lash out at others. No more rape or murder; no more war. Which are lovely "no"s to be sure, and I'm all for them.

But here's a thing or two. Thing One: Most wars are (historically) not fought over or backed by religion. For more on the causes of wars, here's a short, factual article from a Catholic blog and a completely secular opinion as well. Thing Two: to "abolish religion" is to rescind people's rights to their own beliefs and spiritual practices, to force them to go into hiding when they worship and persecute them. It's been tried in several places throughout history, including Sudan, Israel-Palestine and Nazi Germany... not really with favorable outcomes. I can't help but think that rather then getting rid of faith-based communities ("organized religion"), if more people actually paid CLOSER attention to the various paths to God they profess to follow, and made MORE of an effort to "be religious", there would be more peace-, charity- and love-based interaction and far fewer wars and hate crimes. Hatred is not at the core of any religion; not Islam, not Christianity, not Wicca, Hinduism, Judaism, Buddhism, Paganism, Satanism (truly), Jainism or any other. Religion doesn't breed hatred - intolerance does. And from what I've seen, atheists and agnostics are as likely to be intolerant and hateful as religious fanatics - they just don't (or don't always) use God as an excuse.

Are there hateful, angry extremists who rail against others in the name of God? Yes. Are some heinous crimes committed by religious fanatics or in the name of a particular religion? Yes - of course. They have been throughout history and modern ones make great, sensational news headlines (the more horrific the better, it seems). AND, as the links above reflect... heinous crimes have also been committed throughout history and still are in modern times, without religion behind them.  People are, by nature, competitive, greedy, power-hungry, frightened, covetous - as well as kind, considerate, foolish, fallible, thoughtful, vengeful, loving, imperfect... there's a reason we have so many words to describe human emotions, moods and behaviors. What it comes down to is this: we don't need less religion in the world, nor would that create the change so desperately needed; we need less hatred, less intolerance, more love and more effort to live together on this planet peacefully.

/8/18/15 

Love Wins!

I am SO excited today - much work left to be done in many directions, (racial disparity, gun violence and equal pay for women, to name a few) but it's such a huge step forward and a true cause for celebration!

Oh - what am I talking about? Right - this may be read on another day or by someone who hasn't heard yet. (Is that last possible?) Today, the Supreme Court overturned various states' bans on same-sex marriage and made marriage equality the Law of the Land. I heard the announcement while I was driving to work, and found myself in tears and thinking of so many friends and friends-of-friends who are no longer among us and didn't get to live to see this day, or to marry the person they loved. Joy and sadness... but the joy is overwhelming.

I received a petition request (this one) in my inbox a few hours after The Decision, and I hit the link to sign it. It's actually surprised me how effective these can be, and Lord knows I like to share my opinions. The email I received started with this:

The Supreme Court just made history, establishing marriage equality as the law of the land. The religious right is already erupting into hysterics, declaring that "Satan is dancing with delight." Mike Huckabee claims the decision is repealing "the laws of nature and nature's God." The president of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops says it's "profoundly immoral" and that it will harm children.

The petition form I signed asked me whether I'd like to add a personal comment (that opinion thing again - of course I did) and once I had, it asked me to share all this through social media, to show that not all Christians feel the need to discriminate on the basis of sexual preference. I don't tweet or Instagram or whatnot, so I clicked on the Facebook icon... and then knew this would take a little explaining. Here is what I posted to Facebookistan and all those friends and family of mine who inhabit it. Well, and to anyone else who happens upon them - perhaps those even more.

So before my secular friends and those of various other faiths look down to the bottom of this post and ask why I feel the need to be supportive specifically "as a Christian"... I add my voice in as a Christian to counteract the evil, hateful rhetoric being slung by some outspoken Christians whose views I do not support, and who don't speak for me (or my church - or I would not have become a member). Jesus taught love, not hatred.

So "as a Christian" (as well as, as a human being): Granting marriage equality in no way harms children or families - in fact, it helps and heals them in many ways including "legitimizing" children born to or adopted by same-sex couples*, which I would think Catholics should support. As far as Christian Biblical citations: Jesus never said anything against (or about) homosexuality. He said to love God, who is in everything (and we in God - Episcopalians are fond of saying, "... in whom we live and move and have our being") and love your "neighbor", who is everyone. This ruling was and is about treating human beings with respect and correcting a dire wrong against innocent people that has been perpetuated for far too long. The healing process has begun, and as Jesus taught... Love wins.

If you are of like mind, please do "like", share, discuss, forward and/or sign this petition... it's about time our voices were heard.

I am an Episcopalian and a happy member of the Christian Left - and I approve this message.

* ...and allows them to be step-parents and legal guardians of their spouse's children, to advocate for each other and their children in times of medical or other crises, not to mention being given the respect and dignity that straight Americans and their families have enjoyed since the founding of the country)... and more...

/6/26/15

Looking Through the Salidor

For years I wondered what a salidor was. 

Or rather I didn’t really wonder, so much as take it on best authority – that of my elementary school peers –  that there was such a thing. It was from a sing-song rhyme, the kind that little girls sing together with increasingly intricate hand-clapping patterns on the schoolyard at recess.

I didn’t know what a salidor was, but (1) I wasn’t going to show my ignorance by asking, and (2) I knew it was something you got to after sliding or climbing down a rainbarrow… or some such – may as well use “rainbow”, since that makes more sense, right? At any rate, it obviously had to do with friends coming over to play.  Obviously. I may have been corrected once or twice on the finer points, but I’m sure I would hear none of it; I was RIGHT (just ask my 7-year-old self), and that’s just what it was. Sometimes there were words we didn’t understand, but as long as you sounded like you got it, it was OK – sing it with confidence! At any rate, for some reason I woke up with this rhyme in my head the other day and it made me think of how songs and stories get passed down through oral tradition.

If you’ve ever played a game of “Telephone” at camp or in school, or sung nursery rhymes or children's songs that someone else learned from someone else… you’ll get the idea. Things change over time and over distance as they get handed down and passed around. Things, for example, like what a teacher said.

There was this interesting experiment I remember hearing about in an introductory Sociology class when I was first in college: A class was in session (high school? I can’t recall), and suddenly someone burst into the room, late. He had an altercation with the teacher involving the student swearing and possibly threatening the teacher and was finally told or made to leave – I don’t remember all the details. Once he was gone and the disruption over, the teacher asked the class to please write down what had just happened, in case it was needed later. The students wrote their papers and handed them in as they left. A few days later, the principal (or other authority figure) came in and explained that there might be a disciplinary case around this and it was important that they understand what happened and who was at fault. He asked the class to please write down again what had happened. The principal took these papers and left. A week or so later, the class’ teacher explained that something had happened to the original papers and they were missing – he apologized and asked the students to please try to recall as much of the incident as they could and to please re-write their observations for him, which they did.

This had actually been an experiment, the scene planned out ahead of time. The papers had all been saved and when compared, each person’s re-telling of the account varied – sometimes hugely – both from what actually happened and from the same person’s other accounts. Papers from the same person also differed depending upon whom they had been written for – the teacher or the principal/authority figure. I was fascinated by this. The experiment looked at how events are (1) observed by different people, (2) recorded, (3) changed over time if asked to re-record them and (4) altered depending upon whom they were written for or trying to appease or impress.

I may not be recalling the story of this process completely accurately – I intentionally didn’t look it up before writing this, because it addresses my point. If you'd asked me 10 years ago... or right after I'd taken the class... I'm sure I'd have a better and more accurate memory of the details.

You can probably see where this is going.

The most frustrating thing for me and I think for many, in studying scripture, is trying to figure out what may actually have happened and what might actually have been said. Much is allegorical, parable, bigger Truths explained in story; but someone had to have said and  done at least some of these things, or they wouldn’t have been recorded.

The Bible is a collection of stories, accounts and observances. For the sake of paring it down a bit, I’m just looking at the New Testament right now. Let’s call it given that a man named Jesus lived. He was a traveling rabbi, a Jewish teacher, and taught what seemed to many a new and interesting message about God. This teacher said exciting and subversive things! He questioned the status quo, spoke out against rules that were in place and enforced for their own sake, that were “of man” rather than “of God”; he spoke with authority, as if he had first-hand knowledge, and took the titles of the Roman emperor, the ruling power of the day, for himself: Prince of Peace, Anointed One, Son of God. He healed people on any day of the week (including the Sabbath, when one was not supposed to do any work), shared meals with outcasts and pariahs, called priests in the Temple “thieves” or “robbers” for charging people money to come pray and offer sacrifices and he taught that following strict laws about what one can or can’t eat was not nearly as important as what was in a person’s heart and how one acted in the world.

We know about this rabbi named Jesus because there were crowds of people who listened to him and followed him, and some of them told what they’d heard to others, who in turn passed it on. To make it even more confusing, some of what was written had to do with what Jesus and others did, and some of it was about parables – made up stories that carry and exemplify truths about the world and how we are in it – that the rabbi told. From playing Telephone, I’ve heard what a simple sentence can sound like just 10 people and 3 minutes later; “Hi, I’m Jack Robinson – tell what you know” can easily turn into, “Hire Jack Robbins and Tellie wants snow” – or something even less coherent than that. If a story or an occurrence (or a song, or a joke) is told several times a day to different people, and each of them passes it on… speaking it many times and over a period of many years, to many more people… what will it sound like 40 to 60 years later, when it finally gets written down? Or even if some of the writers were students of people who followed this rabbi, putting to paper what they’d been orally taught… you’re still looking at second-generation (at best) re-telling of events that someone is pulling up from memory.

Now wait for over 1000 years or so, read these many-times-told stories and accounts that are in an ancient language and written in and for an entirely different time and social structure; translate them into Latin and marinate for a few hundred more years, then translate the messages and teachings again into another language – this time commonly spoken (16^th century English, for example), so that even more people can understand. Once that is done, allow scholars from different parts of the world to have access to these several-times-translated stories and accounts, and assume that each translates these into their own language – or the same language through different perspectives or understanding of the original text - each using the accepted norms of the day and place they’re in, and/or that translator’s personal biases. Shake and stir. Go back to the oldest translation you can find, learn the language it’s in and try to read it. Then re-translate it all over again. Telephone.

Can you pull the really important bits out of what you now have? Will you worry over whether there were 12 or 13 apostles? Just men or women as well? Whether Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey or a horse (or both)? Why different gospels tell the same story slightly differently? Or will you look for what the point of it all was, try to understand the meanings underneath, look for what's relevant and ascertain how these might be helpful to you in living day-to-day?

Many years after learning the rhyme – many years and experiences later – when the tune came to mind, I was able to re-fit the sounds I remembered into actual words and speech patterns. It made me smile:

            Say, say, oh playmate, come out and play with me

            And bring your dollies three, climb up my apple tree

            Climb down my rain barrel, into my cellar door

  And we’ll be jolly friends forever more!

/1/28/15

Holiday as Sabbath

"The sabbath was made for mankind and not mankind for the sabbath" (KJV). The idea of sabbath is to set aside periods of rest and rejuvenation in order to cultivate a closer relationship with God and reap the benefits that brings into our lives. It occurs to me this morning that perhaps work holidays are a perfect opportunity to put this into practice.

In the Book of Mark (3:1-6), Jesus is criticized in the synagogue for healing a man's withered (arthritic?) hand on the sabbath - it's used as a means of trapping him into admitting that he's breaking sacred laws and is therefore worthy of punishment. Jesus pushes back with a question - "is it lawful to do harm or to do good on the sabbath...?". He makes the point - and I agree - that healing and helping others is not a labor we should (ever) be resting from - it's acting with compassion, loving our neighbors and doing to others as we would have them do unto us - doing the work God has asked us to do. There are things that task us, that do require effort on our parts, that I think are completely appropriate to and even help us get closer to the idea of sabbath. Perhaps it would be best described as following the intent rather than the letter of the law. I feel like people (both as mentioned in the Bible and who speak out in modern day) who cite/d sabbath as a rigid rule - "thou shalt not do any work of any kind on this day" - were and are missing the point; it's meant as a guideline that reminds us to set aside a day when we don't focus on laboring in the world, but on our connection with God; a day of recharging and reconnecting.   Being loving and compassionate, helping or healing others, connects us to God and is therefore living into the meaning of sabbath, not taking us away from it.

I attended an LDS (Mormon) church for a time in my late 20s, and while I ended up having more differences than not with the organization and its members' beliefs, I found much good in their practices. Families were emphasized as was helping each other out - having very little at the time and living in a new city, I found that folks I didn't even know well and the church itself were welcoming and eager to lend a hand or give of their time, money, clothing, furniture or food to me and others when needed. One of the things taken very seriously - at least in the ward where I worshiped - was the expectation to not do anything on Sunday that could be called (secular) work; parishioners spent upwards of 3 hours in church, and when you left, the charge was to (1) not shop, eat out or otherwise patronize any stores or other businesses, and (2) keep on your church clothes all day and "not do anything on a Sunday that you couldn't do in your Sunday best". I agree/d with the former (not that I always managed it, but it was a good goal), but not the latter - because there are things that I feel bring one close to God and nature (such as sitting on a beach, going for a hike, swimming or playing with your kids), that really require something other than dresses and suits.

Which brings me to today, New Year's Day, which is for many a holiday and to me, a great opportunity to practice sabbath. The first thing that came to mind for me on this was that some stores, restaurants and such are open for business today; and the best way I can support it as a day of rest is to not patronize any of these places - to have a day of not shopping, eating out or otherwise supporting businesses staying open. It may seem a small thing, but I feel like it can be hugely beneficial both to me (as a forced day of being present and self-sustaining) and for those who have to work (in giving them an easier/slower day at work and hopefully showing their employers that this is a day that people should be given off). So what shall I do with my day off? Well after pondering the idea of sabbath and getting some of my thoughts organized into a blog post, I plan to spend time with my husband, go for a walk, do some scriptural reading ("homework" for me, but of an enjoyable and spiritually-connected sort), and knit (always relaxing and good). I may even clean house a little, if I'm feeling like it (cleanliness being perhaps close to Godliness & all that). Whatever I do and don't do today, it will be consciously and conscientiously in the spirit of creating sabbath.

I invite you to do the same... whatever it is that you find relaxing, rejuvenating, spiritually uplifting or grounding; whatever brings love, laughter, joy or grace into your life. Today is a great day to spend time with, nurture and pamper yourself and others... not because you have an obligation to, but for the healing, grounding and connection it brings all around. I invite you to join me in a sabbath.

  

/1/1/15

Black Lives Matter

It would be hard not to talk about racism right now. In the wake of "no indictment" decisions in both the Michael Brown and Eric Garner trials, thousands have taken to the streets in mass protests - and here in Berkeley, the word "riot" has been bandied about and added to the mix, thanks to violent misbehavior during what should have been peaceful, non-violent demonstrations. But cop cars and buildings are being vandalized, windows broken and (embarrassingly), stores looted in the midst of it all. And while yes, emotions are running high and people are frustrated, it sounds like the more disruptive elements of this are from small clusters of anarchists and others using the protests as a cover for their own desire to create chaos and do damage - not from the people, many or most of them students, who are standing (and sitting and lying down) to show solidarity and trying to shine a light on the ugliness of systemic racism. So shattered windows, looting and fire being set to things in the street are made to look like a product of the protest, and the media has jumped on "look how violent Berkeley protestors are". Truly, it's a mess.

Texting to us from Telegraph on Saturday night, my step-daughter related how police were in riot gear and respirators, throwing tear gas and flash grenades into crowds they intentionally boxed in on both sides and beating people with billy clubs - not trying to stop or contain the vandals and looters, but taking out their frustration on peaceful protesters holding signs that said "#BlackLivesMatter" and chanting, "I Can't Breathe".

Photo by Pete Rosos via Berkeleyside

People, students near her... a few people away... were shoved to the ground, clubbed and sometimes stepped on as they tried to flee and couldn't get away in time. Reports flooded in through Twitter with photos and even video clips, as witness to what was going on (#BerkeleyProtests). Big armored vehicles rolled down University Avenue and across Shattuck, and rubber bullets were fired into the crowd... as thousands gathered to protest that our country's over-militarized police forces have become brutal and harmful to the citizens they are sworn to protect. This... is not helping. My husband and I sat up, not willing to go to bed until we knew for sure that our daughter was safe and home with most of the tear gas washed off her face and flushed out of her eyes. It was after midnight.

Let me back up a moment here and say that - raised by hippies and all - I am "pro-cop"; in order to be a civilized society (we can debate that later if you like... plenty of tinder to work with) we need laws and those who enforce them, and I'm not looking for an excuse to verbally abuse decent police officers who are just doing their jobs.  I believe that most of them are "good cops", defending the peace, acting in the interest of the common good and doing their best to keep our communities, streets and people safe. I know that they risk their own safety and even their lives every time they start a work shift, and I truly appreciate and honor (and am in awe of) that. These are not the officers I'm talking about. And lest one think I'm being particularly harsh on local law enforcement, many of those out in force this weekend were State Troopers, not just Berkeley PD. It would seem that we've come to a place where whole portions of a force - and the leadership at the head of it - are not "protecting and serving" the people in their communities; and much of that is spurred by deep racism and a misguided sense of privilege or even superiority based on skin color and race.

Photo by John Zangas via Twitter

On Sunday night the protests continued, with police action escalating faster and huge clouds of teargas or smoke bombs seen migrating across streets, choking and stinging, as more than 300 - then 450 - then 600-plus marched in the streets, demanding justice and fair treatment. The police managed to escalate matters further and quickly, angering hundreds of people at a time and hurting many, while the media continued to share sensationalized stories with headlines like, "protests at UC Berkeley turn violent", reporting "a wild and destructive protest" with participants smashing in windows and looting stores... never mind that while a few hangers-on were admittedly doing just that, many more were trying to stop them, shouting, "peaceful protest!" and physically blocking access to stores and bank windows.  The chant had turned to "Eric Garner, Michael Brown - tear it down, tear it down" - which, while intended as a cry against a corrupt and violent system, didn't help in the light of damage being done. Concurrent protests and demonstrations across the country managed to remain peaceful, while Berkeley took on the guise of the L.A. riots; but we have to take this as a whole.

It has all and already gone too far.

I sat safe at home, watching escalating on-the-spot reports through Twitter, Berkeleyside and online news feeds, offering prayers for everyone's safety and sane conduct and wondering what else I can do. I changed my Facebook icon to "Black Lives Matter" in support, and received mostly tangible silence online. Yes I know - ALL lives matter; of course they do. And right now, being pale-skinned and privileged on account of birth, I don't think people who look like me are in particular need of defending, uplifting or understanding; high or low, we get that in due course because of the way the system is set up. So yes, ALL lives matter - and right now it's especially important to remind the world that that means people of color - any color. 

Photos by MattLukas1968 via Twitter & by Kelly Owen via Berkeleyside

I am a woman of faith living in a representative government and right now I am even more conscious than usual of "the sins done on our behalf" by people in power. Will the protests be heard, will changes be made in a system that has gone so far corrupt it needs many people at the top extracted like bad teeth? I don't know. But I have to hope that change is in the air, that justice held in abeyance and disregarded will be brought to bear, that the systemic, intrinsic racism my country runs on will be purged and damage begun to be repaired, lives healed. This is not a collection of misguided angry mobs that need to be quieted - it's a voice of thousands, a cry of injustice that needs to be heard and heeded. How can we bring healing and peace to our nation and the world? What can we do - in community, as church, as the hands and voice of Christ in the world; as individuals; as white people representing the majority in this country (though not for long, thankfully) - what can any or all of us do, here and now, to create the change that needs so desperately to happen in our world?

I don't have the answers - but I'm willing to ask the questions and see where they lead.

/12/8/14

Sitting at the Master's Feet (Let them eat parables)

I love reading the parables. Not just the stories themselves - though I definitely have favorites there and can probably go on about one or two at some point - but I love reading about Jesus' more intimate teaching moments with his disciples. He spoke to crowds, sometimes huge crowds of people, and when he taught them it was in parables - allegorical stories with lessons embedded in them, meanings to be found between the lines. He said things that made people think, mull over his words, take home concepts to ponder; and then the crowds would dissipate and most folks went back to their homes or jobs. But there were some - more than a few it sounds like - who stayed to hear more.

I picture Jesus sitting cross-legged on the ground or on a large rock perhaps, with a smaller group of people who have stayed behind, eager to hear more. Maybe they have questions about what their teacher has just been saying, or want to go off on tangents that tickled at their brains while he was speaking... maybe they know that once the crowd leaves, the rabbi will continue with a deeper teaching for those who stay to hear it. So we have Jesus in front and others gathered around, sitting on the ground, on rocks or fallen tree limbs, on the sand by the Sea of Galilee... or maybe indoors at someone's house with everyone gathered on the floor and in whatever chairs were available... what matters isn't the location... this is the group that stayed - those "with ears to hear", who wanted to know more and sought to truly understand. Teaching in this way is a time-honored practice with spiritual leaders in many traditions, including some that I have been a part of prior to becoming a Christian.

Teaching the Disciples Under an Olive Tree - Painting by James Tissot

For many years I practiced Vedanta*, a Hindu philosophy based on the Vedas - ancient scriptures of India. As a child I would go to the pujas, (a word used to describe both worship and the religious festivals around it), and later I sat in temple services with my father, my step-mom and sometimes my little brother. You would leave your shoes at the door, come forward to prostrate in front of the shrine if you're able, find a seat and attend a service that in many ways is similar to a Jewish or Christian service - worship, a sermon or lesson, stand in a receiving line to greet the swami or take the dust of his feet, and then sharing prasad - food (often sweets or fruit) that has been offered to God and then shared amongst the devotees. We didn't go often, and I loved opportunities to be there. The best times to me were after or sometimes before services, when a small group might have the good fortune to accompany one of the swamis on a walk through the gardens or in a smaller chapel. This was a time of darshan, blessings or grace that come from being near holy people or places. Sometimes it would be a quiet, companionable walk and other times the swami would address us, to answer questions or share thoughts that weren't spoken to the larger, more public crowd. These times were magical for me, and I absorbed as much as I could.

[Puja in Mother's shrine - Portland]

When I became older I went to study with the teacher I had chosen - a very old guru at the Vedanta Center in Portland, Oregon named Swami Aseshananda, and became an initiate. I stayed in one of the "Women's Houses" with other devotees a couple of times, which I loved. These were cooperative intentional living spaces near the temple (there were places for men to stay as well), and the permanent residents lived as "lay monastics" with a Rule of Life, but no formal ordination.

We did service at the Center, helping to prepare food and setting up chairs and such before Sunday services or special gatherings, but the "real stuff" happened when there were only ten to twenty devotees there. We would walk with him** or sit in the small chapel while our teacher did the daily worship and sometimes we'd meditate or sing or just observe, as he bid us.

[Swami teaching after services]

Often after Sunday services, Swami Aseshananda would retire to a sitting room off of the main hall. He would settle into a chair and those of us who had stayed would gather around, sitting on chairs, cushions, or the rug. His sermons  involved anecdotes, stories and sometimes parables (or even jokes - he had a wonderful sense of humor), and during this more private time he would take questions about things he had said, answering and going into greater depth; he explained the day's lesson, subtle meanings, translations of passages that he had spoken in Hindi - (his native tongue, which he had a tendency to slip into) - things he wanted to be sure we understood.We listened and hoped we had ears to truly hear.

[With love & humor - Boston]

So as I read about Jesus teaching the parables and then explaining about them to a smaller group of devotees who stayed behind to catch whatever words he cared to share - I see myself there. I imagine I'm sitting on the ground, surrounded by others who want to be closer to him, and to discuss and understand the deeper meanings of things; sitting at his feet and feeding on his words, being nourished within and filled with the joy of his presence.

 I try to be in this place as often as I can when I'm reading scripture; but it's especially easy with the parables, when Jesus' disciples gathered around after the crowds had gone to hear what's really been said and to gather the darshan of sitting at the master's feet.

* As a note - even after becoming a Christian, I still tend to view things through a Vedantic lens, especially in seeing all the major world religions as different paths to the same end. Happy to expound on that as asked.
** I found this footage online; Swami Aseshananda in the rose garden at the Portland Center, c.1980. Video credit: Mondaymedia (YouTube)
*** Photo credits (in order): Vedanta Society of Portland, Mother's Trust Ashram Michigan, Vedanta Society of St. Louis. The caption behind Swami in the Boston photo is from the Rig Veda: "God is one. Men call Him by different names".

/12/2/14

Jesus was an Introvert

I've been studying the Book of Mark over the last couple of weeks (NRSV, with the KJV for comparison), and one thing that jumped out at me was that Jesus was an introvert. Not in the sense of being shy or withdrawn around others, (which from all accounts, he wasn't), but by the definition I've become more familiar and agree with: one who needs to "recharge" alone and is usually uncomfortable in large crowds. In this context, an extrovert is one who recharges in a group, who is nourished by the energy of a gathering of people. While I think most folks are somewhere on a spectrum in-between the two poles, I have known and lived with some true introverts - and by the same set of explanations, would define myself as more of an extrovert; but ok, I digress - other than to say that it puts me "on the outside, looking in", (ooh, for ten points - name that band!), which makes introverts somewhat of an enigma to me.

In Mark 1:34-35, after Jesus heals the many who have gathered around him in Capernaum (a city in Galilee which seems to have been his home), we read:

"Rising up a great while before day, he went out and departed into a solitary place, and there prayed." (King James Version - because I like the poetic feel of it. The NRSV says, "while it was still very dark" and, "a deserted place" - take your pick).

In and of itself, this could just be what it sounds like - a man who gets up very early in the morning to pray to his God in private. Not a bad idea and not an indicator of personality, so much as preference. When his companions come to find him and say that "everyone is searching" for Jesus, he tells them it's time to leave and go to other towns, to help people there. Not fleeing the crowd, just doing (in his own words), what he came to do.

In the beginning of Mark 2 we're back in Capernaum and another crowd has gathered around. After healing as many as he can reach, including a paralyzed man whose friends tore a hole in the roof of Jesus' house and lowered him down on a bed (!), he went out to walk by the sea (one of my favorite places to recharge) but was soon followed by a crowd, so began to teach them there while he walked. In the context of what follows in the next chapter (and in other books of the New Testament), I get the feeling that the rabbi was attempting to have some time to himself to re-group after doing so much with and for so many people, to get back some of the energy he had expended and regain some equilibrium.

Arial view of Capernaum - credit: BibleWalks.com

So what follows?

I offer you the book of Mark, Chapter 3. Again Jesus leaves the town to go walk by the sea with his disciples and teach them. A "great multitude" follows him, and the rabbi asks his students to have a boat ready so that he can teach from a safer location where he won't end up being crushed by a well-meaning crowd. Did he literally fear being crushed - or was he just feeling anxiety, having so many people surrounding him?

When he went back home, the crowd followed him and thronged around him so that he couldn't get inside his own house to have dinner with his family (friends in the KJV). It is then stated that his family or friends,

"went out to restrain him, for people were saying, 'he has gone out of his mind'". 

Interestingly and as a side note, this is one of those passages that Biblical historians point to as making the argument for authenticity (not necessarily of the text verbatim, but more as a testament to the incident related). Why? They postulate that if a writer was making up tales to "glorify" someone or prove that person's import or gravitas, stories about the subject seeming to go mad so that parents and friends need to restrain him - would not likely be included. You wouldn't want this revered teacher to look unstable, so the editors would have edited and the redactors would have redacted. Hence, many feel that the fact that stories like this were left in the canon lends a bit of credence to the telling.

Right. Back to the scene in front of Jesus' house. I think I can see it pretty clearly - anxiety turns to panic, panic turns to a full-blown freak-out, so people think he's gone crazy - and all he wants is some quiet time around a family table. He is feeling drained and needs to recharge. Does he fear or hate the crowd that surrounds him? No; when told that his mother and brothers are trying to reach him, Jesus tells the crowd that they - his fellow believers and followers - are all his family, his "mother and brothers and sisters". He loves them - but he needs time away, space to breath, room to pray, meditate and be renewed.

I have made note of this theme in episodes throughout the New Testament where Jesus seeks a place of solitude up a mountain, in the woods or down by the sea, sometimes rising long before others and "sneaking away" as it were, to ensure he gets a little privacy and quiet.  Luke 5:16 may sum it up best:

"... he withdrew himself into the wilderness and prayed"... 

Jesus was an introvert.

/11/27/14