This morning sources close to the Obama White House emailed me rough notes from the President’s State of the Union Address to be delivered this evening. While it is impossible to know which if any of these comments will make it into the final draft, it is comforting to know that he is thinking along these lines. Here is what was sent to me.
My Fellow Americans,
While I understand that many of you who supported my campaign are disappointed by the way I am leading this great nation, I make no apologies for the decisions I have made. On the contrary, if you knew what I know you would make similar choices. So as part of my remarks this evening I would like to share some of the things that I know, the truths that guide my decision making.
First to the war. Americans continue to speak of two wars—Afghanistan and Iraq—but there is only one war—the war against those who would reduce America’s standing in the world. At the moment this means Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran, and coming to a theater of war not so near you, Yemen, and North Korea. This is an endless war of empire building and maintenance. When we defeat our current enemies we will find others, or if it is cheaper, we will fund our enemies ourselves (as we currently do through the sale of drugs and oil) in order to maintain our endless war status. The reason for this is simple: peace is bad for business. The business of America is war. This is not because we are a warlike people, but because we are an empire, and empires need to grow, and growth means war.
There was a time when we thought we could conquer the world with American know-how and technological ingenuity. But that was before we insisted that Darwin was the Anti-Christ, and realized that we—and by we here I mean giant corporations—could make more money by moving manufacturing overseas, and evading taxes here at home. We don’t make much anymore, and our highest paid people are paid to make money not products. Wall Street bankers who go home with millions in bonuses don’t actually do anything. They don’t teach anyone, or make anything, or paint or act or sculpt or write or compose. They just gamble, and, win or lose, they go home with millions. This is what they are good at. This is what we reward. And to maintain this system we need war.
War is good for our economy. The one thing we do make is munitions, but we would have a glut of bombs if we don’t drop more and more of them. And think of war in terms of employment. Just imagine adding hundreds of thousands of newly released soldiers to our unemployment rolls. We can’t downsize our military; we need to grow it in order to absorb a growing population of the young and unemployed. And we need to keep our warriors sharp and that means we need them deployed and engaged. So don’t expect me to declare peace in one country until I can persuade you to go to war with another. But these small wars are just practice for the big war. Which brings me to global climate change.
As the seas rise and the climate changes billions of people will find themselves starving and landless. Many millions will die where they were born, but millions more will be on the move. And they will be moving into Europe and, yes, the United States of America. A strong military will be needed to keep these millions from reaching our borders. This will be a war of necessity: the survival of the fittest.
This is something many of you do not understand. Climate change is inevitable. No amount of carbon reductions, even if we agreed to any, which we won’t, can change what is coming. As the seas rise and swallow our coastal cities and island nations, as deserts expand and starve tens of millions, the earth will need to shake off approximately five billion of the 7 billion humans who inhabit her. It will be the strongest that survive, and we need to be the strongest.
Be honest with yourselves— who do you wish to inherit the earth: poor, starving, dirt farmers, or people who have iPhones, blu-ray players, and Wii? I think the choice is clear, and to secure the survival of the fittest we will have to defend what is ours and expand it. Despite all the happy talk to the contrary, living the way we want to live on this planet is a zero-sum game; not everyone can have central heating and cooling, indoor plumbing, automobiles, and tanning salons. If we are going to win we have got to insure that five billion of our neighbors lose. Nature will take most of them, but we must be prepared to take care of the rest.
With this in mind I am proud of my success in Copenhagen, insuring that talk and negotiations will continue. By keeping the poorer nations of the world busy talking, by encouraging and providing exotic locations for the distracting street theater than is today’s protest movements, the wealthy nations of the world will exhaust the poor until nature’s havoc is well underway. While it is true that many of you wrongly imagine me to be born in Kenya, you can trust me when I tell you that if the choice is between Kenya and Chicago— and make no mistake, it is—my loyalty is to Chicago.
So much for war and climate change. On to the economy. Let me be clear with you: all I think about are jobs—mine and those of my friends and fellow Democracts. And to keep my job I must find you a job, which is why I am doing my best to expand the war machine. But make no mistake: in this great country of ours politics and the economy are one and the same. And by economy I mean huge corporations: big banks, big pharma, big hospitals, big agriculture, big everything. Sure small business matters, but not to us in Washington. We serve those who provide us with the cash to win elections, and that means Big Business. America is an oligarchy. We are run by the rich for the rich. Your politicians are owned by the rich, and are put in office to do the bidding of the rich. And with the recent Supreme Court decision allowing corporations to spend without limits on behalf of candidates, we can rest assured that Mr. Smith will never ever come to Washington.
Yes, we will help the little guy if necessary, but never at the expense of our constituents—the bug guys. And don’t blame this on the Republicans who created a Conservative Court. It doesn’t make any difference which side of the isle is in power; the true power is with our corporate sponsors. Vote for whomever you wish, the result is always the same: money wins because money rules. Indeed, as you prepare for mid-term elections I urge you not to vote for this or that candidate, but the companies that sponsor her or him. If you like the company, vote for their candidate. And, if you win, buy stock in the corporation that just got elected.
So the health care reform legislation I hope to sign into law shortly insures billions more dollars will go to insurers, because the real health of this country is in their well being not yours. People die, but some corporations can live forever.
While it is true that millions of Americans have gone bankrupt, lost their homes, their jobs, and any hope of regaining what they lost, none of these losers contribute to our campaigns. But don’t despair. There is hope, if not for you then for your children and grandchildren—join the military!
The biggest growth industry in this country will be private armies. Even today there are more private security forces in the United States than state and local police. These armies will be needed internationally, nationally, and locally. Soon your neighbors will band together to hire their own private security force to defend themselves against neighbors from another block. In Chicago we used to call them gangs, but today they are highly prize professionals who in the not so distant future will be looking for highly trained employees. People like you.
The best way to prepare for a high paying job in the private army business is to volunteer for the US military. We won’t pay you much, and we might get you killed, but we will train you for incredibly high paying jobs in the private army sector. So don’t doubt for a minute that I’m not creating jobs. I am and the growth of the private army industry is where I’m growing it.
I want to thank my fellow Americans for buying the products that allowed so many companies to put myself and others in power. I want to thank the American media for keeping people ignorant of the truth of how this country is run, and for distracting them with the idea that politics is a horserace rather than a con game. I want to thank our educators for keeping our children ignorant of civics, economics, history, and science so that we can easily distract them from real reality with faux reality TV. I want to thank my colleagues in all branches of government, on both sides of the isle, for keeping the con running. And most of all I want to thank God for making people as dumb as the dirt.
Thank you. God bless you. And God bless the United States of America.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
THINK Proves the Existence of God
THINK magazine, whose motto is “Current issues from a distinctly Christian view,” is one of many Christian magazines I read regularly. In the January issue there is an attempt to prove that Something Eternal exists using the following “irrefutable” equations:
1. Something exists today—THUS—something must be eternal and has always existed.
2. Something is eternal (doesn’t wear down and was not created)—THUS—something violates the scientific laws (especially the Second Law of Thermodynamics).
3. Something violates scientific laws—THUS—something exists outside the observable laws of naturalistic science. From these we can conclude:
4. Something eternal is THUS outside the observable laws of naturalistic science!
The magazine concludes that, “While many atheists may not like this ‘math,’ it is inescapable. To argue otherwise would be to deny our very existence. We can logically conclude that something has existed forever—something that is not explainable by naturalistic science. That something is God.” (THINK, January 2010, p. 21)
Well I’m neither an atheist nor a mathematician, and though I am susceptible as the next person to ALL CAPS and Boldface, I just don’t see the logic here.
The entire argument rests on the truth of the opening affirmation, but there is no proof (unless you call writing “THUS” in all caps as proof) that it is true. Just because something exists today doesn’t mean that existence itself is eternal. Certainly the Bible seems to suggest otherwise: remember “In the beginning…?”
The idea behind Equation #1 is that something always comes from something else. OK, but why assume there is an end to these something elses? To say that there is one eternal thing from which all these other things stem is arbitrary. There is no proof, just the assertion. And there is no need of such an assertion. Perhaps there is always something else prior to something. Even if you say that God is the Original Something, logic demands that we ask where God comes from? So to say that God is the eternal something simply shuts done any further inquiry without actually proving anything.
For argument’s sake, however, lets assume these equations prove the existence of God. Why assume it is the God of the Bible, and the Christian Bible at that? There is nothing in this series of equations that leads me to Christ rather than Krishna. Even if THINK proves eternality, it fails to prove God the Father/Son/Holy Spirit.
What saddens me about such “proofs” is not simply their illogic, or even the blind jingoism that assumes God must be the Christian God, but the fact that someone is so taken with the scientific method that they have to subsume religion into it. For all their ranting to the contrary, such fundamentalist efforts only prove the supremacy of science. They are saying that faith only works when it is supported mathematically.
I believe that there is a dimension of reality that cannot be tapped by material science, but which can be explored through the contemplative sciences of yoga, meditation, etc. These sciences are thousands of years old, and while they do not support the theological claims of any specific religion, they do reveal a greater Reality in which our world exists.
I would no more use science to prove the existence of God than I would use the Bible to prove the truth of E=MC2. When we reduce faith to science we do a disservice to God, faith, and science. If you want to know what the Larger Truth is use real science, just don’t forget to include the contemplative sciences in the mix.
1. Something exists today—THUS—something must be eternal and has always existed.
2. Something is eternal (doesn’t wear down and was not created)—THUS—something violates the scientific laws (especially the Second Law of Thermodynamics).
3. Something violates scientific laws—THUS—something exists outside the observable laws of naturalistic science. From these we can conclude:
4. Something eternal is THUS outside the observable laws of naturalistic science!
The magazine concludes that, “While many atheists may not like this ‘math,’ it is inescapable. To argue otherwise would be to deny our very existence. We can logically conclude that something has existed forever—something that is not explainable by naturalistic science. That something is God.” (THINK, January 2010, p. 21)
Well I’m neither an atheist nor a mathematician, and though I am susceptible as the next person to ALL CAPS and Boldface, I just don’t see the logic here.
The entire argument rests on the truth of the opening affirmation, but there is no proof (unless you call writing “THUS” in all caps as proof) that it is true. Just because something exists today doesn’t mean that existence itself is eternal. Certainly the Bible seems to suggest otherwise: remember “In the beginning…?”
The idea behind Equation #1 is that something always comes from something else. OK, but why assume there is an end to these something elses? To say that there is one eternal thing from which all these other things stem is arbitrary. There is no proof, just the assertion. And there is no need of such an assertion. Perhaps there is always something else prior to something. Even if you say that God is the Original Something, logic demands that we ask where God comes from? So to say that God is the eternal something simply shuts done any further inquiry without actually proving anything.
For argument’s sake, however, lets assume these equations prove the existence of God. Why assume it is the God of the Bible, and the Christian Bible at that? There is nothing in this series of equations that leads me to Christ rather than Krishna. Even if THINK proves eternality, it fails to prove God the Father/Son/Holy Spirit.
What saddens me about such “proofs” is not simply their illogic, or even the blind jingoism that assumes God must be the Christian God, but the fact that someone is so taken with the scientific method that they have to subsume religion into it. For all their ranting to the contrary, such fundamentalist efforts only prove the supremacy of science. They are saying that faith only works when it is supported mathematically.
I believe that there is a dimension of reality that cannot be tapped by material science, but which can be explored through the contemplative sciences of yoga, meditation, etc. These sciences are thousands of years old, and while they do not support the theological claims of any specific religion, they do reveal a greater Reality in which our world exists.
I would no more use science to prove the existence of God than I would use the Bible to prove the truth of E=MC2. When we reduce faith to science we do a disservice to God, faith, and science. If you want to know what the Larger Truth is use real science, just don’t forget to include the contemplative sciences in the mix.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Bible Stamping
The US Army and Marine Corps are investigating a decades-old practice of riflescope maker Trijicon, Inc. It seems that Trijicon has been encoding messages from the Bible onto some of its products.
One gun sight is stamped with the code 2COR4:6 which refers to 2 Corinthians 4:6, For it is the God who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.
Another scope bears the code JN8:12, referring to John 8:12, Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.”
Some may find linking the name and teachings of Jesus to the shooting of people to be a bit odd, but I personally have no problem with it at all. God and killing have been linked since Cain slew Abel, why not be honest about it?
My only beef is with the quotes Trijicon chose to imprint on its scopes. Here are just a few texts that might be more inspiring:
Ex. 22:24 My wrath will burn, and I will kill you with the sword, and your wives shall become widows and your children orphans.
Ex. 32:27 Go back and forth from gate to gate throughout the camp, and each of you kill your brother, your friend, and your neighbor.
Deut. 7:2 When the LORD your God gives them [your enemies] over to you and you defeat them, then you must utterly destroy them. Make no covenant with them and show them no mercy.
I’m sure you could find additional quotes that are equally appropriate, and I am eager to hear from you. As of this writing, however, it seems that Trijicon is going to cease stamping their products with Bible quotes.
What a shame. If it were up to me, I’d make the quotes more explicit. In this way if the hardware is captured by people of a different faith they may refuse to use the weapons for fear of violating their own faith.
I really like the idea of stamping products with appropriate Bible quotes, however, and just because Trijicon won’t do it doesn’t mean that other companies shouldn’t get in the game. So please think about this and suggest Bible quotes for your own favorite products. Who knows? This may catch on, and you might find yourself with a whole new career.
One gun sight is stamped with the code 2COR4:6 which refers to 2 Corinthians 4:6, For it is the God who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.
Another scope bears the code JN8:12, referring to John 8:12, Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.”
Some may find linking the name and teachings of Jesus to the shooting of people to be a bit odd, but I personally have no problem with it at all. God and killing have been linked since Cain slew Abel, why not be honest about it?
My only beef is with the quotes Trijicon chose to imprint on its scopes. Here are just a few texts that might be more inspiring:
Ex. 22:24 My wrath will burn, and I will kill you with the sword, and your wives shall become widows and your children orphans.
Ex. 32:27 Go back and forth from gate to gate throughout the camp, and each of you kill your brother, your friend, and your neighbor.
Deut. 7:2 When the LORD your God gives them [your enemies] over to you and you defeat them, then you must utterly destroy them. Make no covenant with them and show them no mercy.
I’m sure you could find additional quotes that are equally appropriate, and I am eager to hear from you. As of this writing, however, it seems that Trijicon is going to cease stamping their products with Bible quotes.
What a shame. If it were up to me, I’d make the quotes more explicit. In this way if the hardware is captured by people of a different faith they may refuse to use the weapons for fear of violating their own faith.
I really like the idea of stamping products with appropriate Bible quotes, however, and just because Trijicon won’t do it doesn’t mean that other companies shouldn’t get in the game. So please think about this and suggest Bible quotes for your own favorite products. Who knows? This may catch on, and you might find yourself with a whole new career.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
God and Haiti
At an interfaith breakfast this morning the issue of God’s role in the horror of the Haitian earthquakes was front and center. No one present, including myself, felt that such horrors negated the existence of God, but some, myself included, suggested that it should challenge our smugness regarding the nature and workings of God.
There seemed to be three positions taken by the group. One said that it is impossible for humans to know God’s plan, so we should assume that there is some good in this tragedy and wait to discover what it is. The second group said that God was present in our response to the tragedy rather than in the tragedy itself. Our efforts to help prove that God is working in our lives, through our lives. A third group suggested that, like the plagues in Exodus, God was using nature to exalt himself above all gods and peoples.
Nobody tried to defend the Reverend Pat Robertson and his claim that this was payback for the Haitians overthrow of their white French slave masters, though it was explained to me that the Haitian revolution was triggered by a Voodoo priest, which is why Rev. Pat made the devil reference. I got the sense that this was supposed to make sense to me, but Voodoo is not devil worship, and is as valid a faith as any other in my mind, so I don’t know what to make of this additional bit of historical data.
I found the arguments of all three groups a bit weak and not a little self-serving.
One can always imagine a blessing following even the harshest curse, as some Jews imagine that the murder of six million Jews was the cost God demanded for the establishment of the State of Israel. And my reaction to such thinking is always the same: why does God always need the death of innocents to bring about a blessing? If God needs human sacrifice, why not opt to sacrifice evil people? And didn’t Jesus die for our sins? Wasn’t his death the only human sacrifice God required? So why sacrifice all these Haitians? At least in Genesis Abraham dares to argue with God about God’s moral obligations; at breakfast no one seemed so inclined.
As for human generosity proving the existence of God, I can’t help but be troubled by the idea that human goodness is the working of God rather than our own consciences, and that, by implication, without God, we would simply pile on and eat one another.
And as far as God murdering hundreds of thousands to show how great and powerful he is, any God with such low self esteem is far too human for my taste. This is not a God I want to believe in, but rather one I wish to protect myself from. And what shall I make of the followers of this God? Would they not be willing to inflict God’s wrath on others in service to their God’s ego, and as a way of bolstering their own?
No, what I heard this morning was a group of good-hearted and generous people (one fellow’s church had already raised $75,000 for Haitian relief), who needed desperately to protect God and their belief in God and God’s goodness even at the cost of having to excuse the death of some 200,000 Haitians.
My view is different. God is the universe, and the universe exists according to some unbreakable rules. On earth one of these rules has to do with plate tectonics: when plates shift earthquakes and tsunamis happen. There is nothing conscious or deliberate about this. It is not a punishment, a precursor to some greater blessing, or a sign of just how awesome God can be. It is simply the only way God can manifest as a planet such as ours.
My God, Reality itself, is wild and unpredictable, albeit bound by the greater laws of nature, which are themselves as aspect of God. My God is dying, and suffering, and reaching out to help through and as the victims of this horror and those who rush to be of help to them. My God is the God of Job, the whirlwind that needs no protecting, and whose revelation is always in the form of haunting questions rather than comforting answers.
To me there is no greater meaning or message or promise in the Haitian tragedy. There is only suffering and people seeking to take advantage of that suffering, and people seeking to alleviate that suffering.
There seemed to be three positions taken by the group. One said that it is impossible for humans to know God’s plan, so we should assume that there is some good in this tragedy and wait to discover what it is. The second group said that God was present in our response to the tragedy rather than in the tragedy itself. Our efforts to help prove that God is working in our lives, through our lives. A third group suggested that, like the plagues in Exodus, God was using nature to exalt himself above all gods and peoples.
Nobody tried to defend the Reverend Pat Robertson and his claim that this was payback for the Haitians overthrow of their white French slave masters, though it was explained to me that the Haitian revolution was triggered by a Voodoo priest, which is why Rev. Pat made the devil reference. I got the sense that this was supposed to make sense to me, but Voodoo is not devil worship, and is as valid a faith as any other in my mind, so I don’t know what to make of this additional bit of historical data.
I found the arguments of all three groups a bit weak and not a little self-serving.
One can always imagine a blessing following even the harshest curse, as some Jews imagine that the murder of six million Jews was the cost God demanded for the establishment of the State of Israel. And my reaction to such thinking is always the same: why does God always need the death of innocents to bring about a blessing? If God needs human sacrifice, why not opt to sacrifice evil people? And didn’t Jesus die for our sins? Wasn’t his death the only human sacrifice God required? So why sacrifice all these Haitians? At least in Genesis Abraham dares to argue with God about God’s moral obligations; at breakfast no one seemed so inclined.
As for human generosity proving the existence of God, I can’t help but be troubled by the idea that human goodness is the working of God rather than our own consciences, and that, by implication, without God, we would simply pile on and eat one another.
And as far as God murdering hundreds of thousands to show how great and powerful he is, any God with such low self esteem is far too human for my taste. This is not a God I want to believe in, but rather one I wish to protect myself from. And what shall I make of the followers of this God? Would they not be willing to inflict God’s wrath on others in service to their God’s ego, and as a way of bolstering their own?
No, what I heard this morning was a group of good-hearted and generous people (one fellow’s church had already raised $75,000 for Haitian relief), who needed desperately to protect God and their belief in God and God’s goodness even at the cost of having to excuse the death of some 200,000 Haitians.
My view is different. God is the universe, and the universe exists according to some unbreakable rules. On earth one of these rules has to do with plate tectonics: when plates shift earthquakes and tsunamis happen. There is nothing conscious or deliberate about this. It is not a punishment, a precursor to some greater blessing, or a sign of just how awesome God can be. It is simply the only way God can manifest as a planet such as ours.
My God, Reality itself, is wild and unpredictable, albeit bound by the greater laws of nature, which are themselves as aspect of God. My God is dying, and suffering, and reaching out to help through and as the victims of this horror and those who rush to be of help to them. My God is the God of Job, the whirlwind that needs no protecting, and whose revelation is always in the form of haunting questions rather than comforting answers.
To me there is no greater meaning or message or promise in the Haitian tragedy. There is only suffering and people seeking to take advantage of that suffering, and people seeking to alleviate that suffering.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Notes on Emptiness
[Here is a summary some of what I taught about emptiness at La Casa De Maria in Santa Barbara, CA. last weekend.]
Emptiness, despite the limits of English grammar, should be understood as a verb rather than a noun, a process rather than a condition, a practice rather than a state. In Hebrew this practice is called bittul, annihilation—the ending of all clinging to concepts of what is, and who you are.
There are many ways to practice bittul. We will work with three, though I wish to make quick mention of a fourth: the practice of limud, Torah study. Limud is to be done lishma, without ulterior motive. We Jews study for the sheer play of it, the sheer joy that such unfettered word-play calls forth in us. The rules of limud are simple enough, but they require the ability to read Torah in her original language, Hebrew. Those with enough Hebrew mastery can, when studying the Torah, continually deconstruct the words, turning them inside out and upside down to reveal both sense and nonsense, and in this way free themselves from Torah even as they open themselves to the deeper process of revelation through Torah. Most of us here lack that level of proficiency, so we will not engage in limud in any serious way. I mention it only because there is no Jewish spirituality without it, and to plant the seeds of longing for a Hebrew education that will allow you to play with Torah.
We will work primarily in English, taking our cues from Torah, but working with the “text” of self. The three practices we will employ are hagah, chanting, Mi Zeh, self-inquiry, and Sh’ma, deep listening.
We begin with singing Rabbi David Zeller’s version of Ani Chai, I am Alive:
I am alive!
And who is this aliveness I am,
If not the Holy Blessed One
The text begins with an affirmation: “I am alive!” You cannot doubt that. Your entire experience of the world is predicated on the existence of Ani, an “I.” Even if you argue that you are dreaming, still it is “you” who is dreaming. There is no escape from this Ani. The text then asks a very simple and subversive question, the question we will ask in different ways throughout the weekend: “Who is this aliveness I am?”
We assume that we know the “I.” We assume it is unique, separate, autonomous, willful, and free. Our sanity depends on this. Yet the assumption is just that, an assumption.
When you look more deeply it begins to crumble under the weight of its own hubris. Are you unique? Look at your likes and dislikes, are these not market driven choices that mask a greater herd mentality? Are you truly separate? Could you exist for even a moment if not for your integration into the greater ecosystem of earth, solar system, galaxy, and universe? Are you autonomous and free? Or are you hemmed in on every side (inside and outside and all around) by physical, emotional, intellectual, and cultural limits over which you seem to have no control? Do you will what you want, or do you simply respond to wants fed to you by genes and memes?
Our song then reveals the truth of who you are. First you are not alive you are aliveness. Aliveness is a process of which “you,” whatever that is, is a part. In Judaism we call this process YHVH and Ehyeh (the Is’ing of reality), and HaKadosh Baruch Hu, the Holy Blessed One, as our song puts it.
But this practice only replaces one idea with another: Ani with HaKadosh Baruch Hu. This too must be emptied so that there is no cling to self or Other, the I or the Not-I, the I am or the I Am. So we sing with no pretence to liberation or emptying, only to plant the seed of inquiry.
Our next practice is called Mi Zeh, Who is This? This is the question God asks Job from the whirlwind: Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? (Job 38:2). Who is this who that hides counsel without knowledge? (Job 42:3).
Both texts reference aytza, counsel. Aytza is the wisdom that arises when the barriers to experiencing it are removed. Think of a great body of water straining against a dam. Remove the dam and the water flows freely of its own accord. The water is wisdom; the dam is ignorance, blee da’at, as our text puts it. Remove the ignorance and the wisdom will flow. Our task is not be become wise by grasping wisdom, but to end our ignorance.
Ignorance comes in two forms: darkening wisdom with empty words, and hiding wisdom. The first is active, the second passive. We actively darken wisdom when we blind ourselves with fixed ideas, words, concepts, ideologies, theologies, and the like. When we in effect mistake the menu for the meal, stuffing ourselves with ideas rather than feasting on reality. Yet even if we learn the art of silence, and let go our attachment to words and abstractions, we still cling to our sense of “I am-ness.” We are without words, but not without “self.” And this self hides the wisdom of Reality from us.
The practice of Mi Zeh works with both kinds of ignorance. Find a partner and decide who will ask the question and who will respond. You will trade positions after a while, so you get to experience both roles.
If you are the asker, sit (on a chair or on the floor) just behind the responder. Without any inflection or affect, lean closely into the responder’s ear (right or left) and whisper the question, “Who is this?” Give the responder a moment to respond. When he or she offers an answer do not react to it. Simply take a breath and repeat the question. If no response is forthcoming, continue to breathe and ask the question until instructed otherwise.
If you are the responder, sit comfortably (on a chair or on the floor), close your eyes, and speak aloud, though softly, whatever word arises in response to the question whispered into your ear. If nothing comes up, do not speak at all, but do not imagine that you have nothing more to say. Continue to listen to the question each time it is asked, and you may find new answers arising. Speak aloud whatever arises whenever it arises.
Our third practice is Sh’ma, hearing. The practice comes from the central affirmation of the Jewish people taught to them by Moses, Shema Yisrael, Yah Eloheinu, Yah Echad! Hear, O Israel, the Ineffable is your God, the Ineffable is one” (Deuteronomy 6:4). The interpretations of this text are legion, but for our purposes it means this: When you deeply listen, you experience the unnamed and unnamable reality that is the singular Self manifesting as all relative selves. God for short.
The practice of Sh’ma is twofold. We begin with the recitation of the text as a mantrum. Beginning on the in-breath (see Genesis 2:7) say silently, Shema. On the next out-breath say, Yisrael. Continue with the rest of the mantrum: in-breath, Yah; out-breath Eloheinu; in-breath Yah; out-breath Echad. When you come to the end of the mantrum do not rush to breathe or to begin again. Simply sit in the silence and listen. When you naturally need to breathe, do so and return to the recitation of the mantrum.
We will do this for sometime simply to settle into the practice of listening. At some point I will invite you cease the recitation and simply to listen. You begin by seeking out the furthest sounds you can capture. Slowly you bring your attention closer: the sounds of the surrounding lawns, then the sounds of the room, the sounds of your fellow students, the sounds of your body, the sounds of your mind. Then reverse direction: move outward and attend to the sounds outside yourself, shifting attention further and further out. Then reverse direction again and over and over again until instructed otherwise.
We end the practice with once again returning the text of the Sh’ma and reciting it silently as a mantrum.
What do these exercises do? Only you can answer that, and to do so you have to practice. There is no right answer. There is only your experience. What they do for me is this: they continually pull the rug of Ani/Self out from under “me.” And when Ani is gone, Ain, nothingness, is revealed. Not nothingness as a static reality, that is just somethingness masquerading as nothingness. But nothingness as a process of continual emptying.
I am left in what I call divine freefall, tumbling effortlessly into and through that which is, isn’t, and beyond both. There are no words or self to darken wisdom here. There is just the effortless grace, wonder, love, and ecstatic joy of birthing and dying and rising and falling and ising and ainting.
Emptiness, despite the limits of English grammar, should be understood as a verb rather than a noun, a process rather than a condition, a practice rather than a state. In Hebrew this practice is called bittul, annihilation—the ending of all clinging to concepts of what is, and who you are.
There are many ways to practice bittul. We will work with three, though I wish to make quick mention of a fourth: the practice of limud, Torah study. Limud is to be done lishma, without ulterior motive. We Jews study for the sheer play of it, the sheer joy that such unfettered word-play calls forth in us. The rules of limud are simple enough, but they require the ability to read Torah in her original language, Hebrew. Those with enough Hebrew mastery can, when studying the Torah, continually deconstruct the words, turning them inside out and upside down to reveal both sense and nonsense, and in this way free themselves from Torah even as they open themselves to the deeper process of revelation through Torah. Most of us here lack that level of proficiency, so we will not engage in limud in any serious way. I mention it only because there is no Jewish spirituality without it, and to plant the seeds of longing for a Hebrew education that will allow you to play with Torah.
We will work primarily in English, taking our cues from Torah, but working with the “text” of self. The three practices we will employ are hagah, chanting, Mi Zeh, self-inquiry, and Sh’ma, deep listening.
We begin with singing Rabbi David Zeller’s version of Ani Chai, I am Alive:
I am alive!
And who is this aliveness I am,
If not the Holy Blessed One
The text begins with an affirmation: “I am alive!” You cannot doubt that. Your entire experience of the world is predicated on the existence of Ani, an “I.” Even if you argue that you are dreaming, still it is “you” who is dreaming. There is no escape from this Ani. The text then asks a very simple and subversive question, the question we will ask in different ways throughout the weekend: “Who is this aliveness I am?”
We assume that we know the “I.” We assume it is unique, separate, autonomous, willful, and free. Our sanity depends on this. Yet the assumption is just that, an assumption.
When you look more deeply it begins to crumble under the weight of its own hubris. Are you unique? Look at your likes and dislikes, are these not market driven choices that mask a greater herd mentality? Are you truly separate? Could you exist for even a moment if not for your integration into the greater ecosystem of earth, solar system, galaxy, and universe? Are you autonomous and free? Or are you hemmed in on every side (inside and outside and all around) by physical, emotional, intellectual, and cultural limits over which you seem to have no control? Do you will what you want, or do you simply respond to wants fed to you by genes and memes?
Our song then reveals the truth of who you are. First you are not alive you are aliveness. Aliveness is a process of which “you,” whatever that is, is a part. In Judaism we call this process YHVH and Ehyeh (the Is’ing of reality), and HaKadosh Baruch Hu, the Holy Blessed One, as our song puts it.
But this practice only replaces one idea with another: Ani with HaKadosh Baruch Hu. This too must be emptied so that there is no cling to self or Other, the I or the Not-I, the I am or the I Am. So we sing with no pretence to liberation or emptying, only to plant the seed of inquiry.
Our next practice is called Mi Zeh, Who is This? This is the question God asks Job from the whirlwind: Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? (Job 38:2). Who is this who that hides counsel without knowledge? (Job 42:3).
Both texts reference aytza, counsel. Aytza is the wisdom that arises when the barriers to experiencing it are removed. Think of a great body of water straining against a dam. Remove the dam and the water flows freely of its own accord. The water is wisdom; the dam is ignorance, blee da’at, as our text puts it. Remove the ignorance and the wisdom will flow. Our task is not be become wise by grasping wisdom, but to end our ignorance.
Ignorance comes in two forms: darkening wisdom with empty words, and hiding wisdom. The first is active, the second passive. We actively darken wisdom when we blind ourselves with fixed ideas, words, concepts, ideologies, theologies, and the like. When we in effect mistake the menu for the meal, stuffing ourselves with ideas rather than feasting on reality. Yet even if we learn the art of silence, and let go our attachment to words and abstractions, we still cling to our sense of “I am-ness.” We are without words, but not without “self.” And this self hides the wisdom of Reality from us.
The practice of Mi Zeh works with both kinds of ignorance. Find a partner and decide who will ask the question and who will respond. You will trade positions after a while, so you get to experience both roles.
If you are the asker, sit (on a chair or on the floor) just behind the responder. Without any inflection or affect, lean closely into the responder’s ear (right or left) and whisper the question, “Who is this?” Give the responder a moment to respond. When he or she offers an answer do not react to it. Simply take a breath and repeat the question. If no response is forthcoming, continue to breathe and ask the question until instructed otherwise.
If you are the responder, sit comfortably (on a chair or on the floor), close your eyes, and speak aloud, though softly, whatever word arises in response to the question whispered into your ear. If nothing comes up, do not speak at all, but do not imagine that you have nothing more to say. Continue to listen to the question each time it is asked, and you may find new answers arising. Speak aloud whatever arises whenever it arises.
Our third practice is Sh’ma, hearing. The practice comes from the central affirmation of the Jewish people taught to them by Moses, Shema Yisrael, Yah Eloheinu, Yah Echad! Hear, O Israel, the Ineffable is your God, the Ineffable is one” (Deuteronomy 6:4). The interpretations of this text are legion, but for our purposes it means this: When you deeply listen, you experience the unnamed and unnamable reality that is the singular Self manifesting as all relative selves. God for short.
The practice of Sh’ma is twofold. We begin with the recitation of the text as a mantrum. Beginning on the in-breath (see Genesis 2:7) say silently, Shema. On the next out-breath say, Yisrael. Continue with the rest of the mantrum: in-breath, Yah; out-breath Eloheinu; in-breath Yah; out-breath Echad. When you come to the end of the mantrum do not rush to breathe or to begin again. Simply sit in the silence and listen. When you naturally need to breathe, do so and return to the recitation of the mantrum.
We will do this for sometime simply to settle into the practice of listening. At some point I will invite you cease the recitation and simply to listen. You begin by seeking out the furthest sounds you can capture. Slowly you bring your attention closer: the sounds of the surrounding lawns, then the sounds of the room, the sounds of your fellow students, the sounds of your body, the sounds of your mind. Then reverse direction: move outward and attend to the sounds outside yourself, shifting attention further and further out. Then reverse direction again and over and over again until instructed otherwise.
We end the practice with once again returning the text of the Sh’ma and reciting it silently as a mantrum.
What do these exercises do? Only you can answer that, and to do so you have to practice. There is no right answer. There is only your experience. What they do for me is this: they continually pull the rug of Ani/Self out from under “me.” And when Ani is gone, Ain, nothingness, is revealed. Not nothingness as a static reality, that is just somethingness masquerading as nothingness. But nothingness as a process of continual emptying.
I am left in what I call divine freefall, tumbling effortlessly into and through that which is, isn’t, and beyond both. There are no words or self to darken wisdom here. There is just the effortless grace, wonder, love, and ecstatic joy of birthing and dying and rising and falling and ising and ainting.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Why Do I Talk So Much About God?
Why bother using the word “God?” if I don’t mean by “God” what most people seem to mean by “God?” This question was put to me the other day during my current retreat. I hope you find my answer of value:
I use the word “God” as an act of upaya, the Sanskrit Buddhist term meaning “skillful means.” Upaya is a category of action or teaching that allows one to work more effectively with a student. When I speak at a Buddhist center where the word “God” has no place, I don’t use it. Doing so would be counter-productive. People would immediately respond defensively, and I would spend all my time defining terms.
Similarly, if I’m speaking at a church, synagogue, mosque, temple or spiritual center where people are comfortable with the word “God,” I use it freely. But only to lull my listeners into a sense of false security: “Oh, this guy is OK, he believes in God.”
So I speak of God and then, when the time is ripe, explain what I mean by God, and in doing so I seek to pull the theological security blanket out from under the listener. It is the same reason why I use texts from Torah or the Gospels or the Bible. I take texts to which my audience is attached, and with which they are comfortable, and then unpack them in ways that reveal truths that they would otherwise refuse to even contemplate.
So do I believe in God or not? I believe in what I am saying; “God” is just a word. For me it isn’t a matter of true or untrue, it is a matter of useful or unuseful.
While it is true that I experience a conditional You who appears to me as Mother, even She is fundamentally empty of permanence. She is simply the way the universe and I meet one another, and while this meeting is often verbal it ultimately drops all words and forms, and yields to a nondual ecstasy in which both She and I are gone, and no more can be said.
I find it useful to speak of God as Mother, and unuseful to speak of God as Father. This may have more to do with my family and my religious upbringing than it does with anything ontological. God as Mother is as real as She has to be for me. I feel love from and for Her. I thank Her continually for both the wonder and the wildness of my life. But She is still a manifestation of a Beyond, and that Beyond is ungendered, unconditioned, and unconditional.
Words are useful. Silence is revelatory.
I use the word “God” as an act of upaya, the Sanskrit Buddhist term meaning “skillful means.” Upaya is a category of action or teaching that allows one to work more effectively with a student. When I speak at a Buddhist center where the word “God” has no place, I don’t use it. Doing so would be counter-productive. People would immediately respond defensively, and I would spend all my time defining terms.
Similarly, if I’m speaking at a church, synagogue, mosque, temple or spiritual center where people are comfortable with the word “God,” I use it freely. But only to lull my listeners into a sense of false security: “Oh, this guy is OK, he believes in God.”
So I speak of God and then, when the time is ripe, explain what I mean by God, and in doing so I seek to pull the theological security blanket out from under the listener. It is the same reason why I use texts from Torah or the Gospels or the Bible. I take texts to which my audience is attached, and with which they are comfortable, and then unpack them in ways that reveal truths that they would otherwise refuse to even contemplate.
So do I believe in God or not? I believe in what I am saying; “God” is just a word. For me it isn’t a matter of true or untrue, it is a matter of useful or unuseful.
While it is true that I experience a conditional You who appears to me as Mother, even She is fundamentally empty of permanence. She is simply the way the universe and I meet one another, and while this meeting is often verbal it ultimately drops all words and forms, and yields to a nondual ecstasy in which both She and I are gone, and no more can be said.
I find it useful to speak of God as Mother, and unuseful to speak of God as Father. This may have more to do with my family and my religious upbringing than it does with anything ontological. God as Mother is as real as She has to be for me. I feel love from and for Her. I thank Her continually for both the wonder and the wildness of my life. But She is still a manifestation of a Beyond, and that Beyond is ungendered, unconditioned, and unconditional.
Words are useful. Silence is revelatory.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Today I am a Hindu, Part 2
My initiation in Vendanta was a gift from Swami Swahananda, whose teacher, Swami Vijnananda, was a direct disciple of Ramakrishna, the founder of this order. I will not reveal the rituals of the initiation, and certainly not the mantra which Swamiji gave to me. But I will share what was going through me as the initiation progressed.
I sat in meditation facing the altar for about 30 minutes before my friends Brahmaprana and Atmarupananda arrived. They have been part of the Ramakrishna Order since their youth, and it is because of them that Swami Swahananda agreed to initiate me into the Order in the Sanctuary rather than his private quarters.
Pictures of Ramakrishna, Vevekananda, Vijnanananda, and Jesus mingled with statues of Buddha, Krishna, Ganesha and others. I felt at home. These were and have been my teachers for decades. Swami Swahananda entered the room and took a seat by the altar. I sat crossed-legged on a cushion at his feet.
He spoke to me about the nature of God, spiritual practice, and what I was expected to do as an initiate of this Order. He encouraged me to add the mantra and meditation he was about to bestow upon me to the rest of my spiritual work. Nothing need be rejected; Torah was as precious a revelation as Veda.
He knew that I had a special relationship to God as Mother, and it was to Her that he geared my initiation, teaching me two mantra that speak directly to devotees of the Mother, people like myself. At first I tried to memorize every word he spoke. But I soon realized I was missing half of it. I simply closed my eyes and listened and breathed. I would absorb what I could through the heart, and leave the mind alone.
As I struggled to accurately repeat the Sanskrit mantrum he was imparting to me, I felt the humbleness of being a beginner once again. It was liberating. I didn’t have to know, I was simply invited to learn. In time, Swami assured me, I would find the mantra easy to recite, and through them I would come to the imageless place of the Infinite God manifest as all finite reality. As he taught me the two mantra specifically linked to the Mother my heart opened. I felt Her presence, within and around me.
Then, all of a sudden, it was over. Swamiji invited me to pose for pictures with him and my two Vedanta friends, and then returned to his rooms to change into street clothes for a car ride to San Diego. I was presented with a mala, a strand of 108 beads to use to help me keep count of my mantra repetitions, and these were taken to Swamiji who blessed them by being the first to chant a mantra with each bead.
So now what? Am I different this afternoon than I was early this morning. Of course. So are you. Does this difference matter? Yes, but no more than any other change. God is change, reality is change, you and I are change. Note I didn’t say we are changing for that implies we are something that changes into something else. This is not so. To be change is to be nothing at all. The “I” I feel myself to be at this moment is not the same as the I, I felt myself to be a moment ago. What ties moments together is the narrative I spin about who I am. The story creates a continuity that reality rejects.
Did Swamiji teach me this? No, I have known it for decades. But he did remind me of it, and did so in a way that will allow me to note that there is no me at all, at least for a moment. Or two.
I sat in meditation facing the altar for about 30 minutes before my friends Brahmaprana and Atmarupananda arrived. They have been part of the Ramakrishna Order since their youth, and it is because of them that Swami Swahananda agreed to initiate me into the Order in the Sanctuary rather than his private quarters.
Pictures of Ramakrishna, Vevekananda, Vijnanananda, and Jesus mingled with statues of Buddha, Krishna, Ganesha and others. I felt at home. These were and have been my teachers for decades. Swami Swahananda entered the room and took a seat by the altar. I sat crossed-legged on a cushion at his feet.
He spoke to me about the nature of God, spiritual practice, and what I was expected to do as an initiate of this Order. He encouraged me to add the mantra and meditation he was about to bestow upon me to the rest of my spiritual work. Nothing need be rejected; Torah was as precious a revelation as Veda.
He knew that I had a special relationship to God as Mother, and it was to Her that he geared my initiation, teaching me two mantra that speak directly to devotees of the Mother, people like myself. At first I tried to memorize every word he spoke. But I soon realized I was missing half of it. I simply closed my eyes and listened and breathed. I would absorb what I could through the heart, and leave the mind alone.
As I struggled to accurately repeat the Sanskrit mantrum he was imparting to me, I felt the humbleness of being a beginner once again. It was liberating. I didn’t have to know, I was simply invited to learn. In time, Swami assured me, I would find the mantra easy to recite, and through them I would come to the imageless place of the Infinite God manifest as all finite reality. As he taught me the two mantra specifically linked to the Mother my heart opened. I felt Her presence, within and around me.
Then, all of a sudden, it was over. Swamiji invited me to pose for pictures with him and my two Vedanta friends, and then returned to his rooms to change into street clothes for a car ride to San Diego. I was presented with a mala, a strand of 108 beads to use to help me keep count of my mantra repetitions, and these were taken to Swamiji who blessed them by being the first to chant a mantra with each bead.
So now what? Am I different this afternoon than I was early this morning. Of course. So are you. Does this difference matter? Yes, but no more than any other change. God is change, reality is change, you and I are change. Note I didn’t say we are changing for that implies we are something that changes into something else. This is not so. To be change is to be nothing at all. The “I” I feel myself to be at this moment is not the same as the I, I felt myself to be a moment ago. What ties moments together is the narrative I spin about who I am. The story creates a continuity that reality rejects.
Did Swamiji teach me this? No, I have known it for decades. But he did remind me of it, and did so in a way that will allow me to note that there is no me at all, at least for a moment. Or two.
Friday, January 08, 2010
Today I am a Hindu
[This was written before dawn on January 8, 2010 in Venice, CA.]
In a few hours I will be initiated into the Ramakrishna Order of Vendanta Hinduism at the Vendanta Center in Hollywood, CA. It is something I have thought about doing since I began to study the nondual teachings of Hinduism during my junior year of high school.
I am excited and not a little nervous. Neither feeling is especially interesting to me. I’m not expecting any great awakening; certainly not enlightenment. I am doing this for two reasons: First, to honor a tradition from which I have gleaned great wisdom and insight for fifty years, and, second, to move more deeply into that tradition by receiving a mantra and learning how to work with it.
One thing that does interest me as I prepare for this morning’s initiation is what it says about my identity as a Jew. It is one thing for a Jew to study another tradition, and quite another for a Jew to become an initiate in it. The mere fact that this thought arises in me suggests that my Jewish identity is still compelling to me, but not so much that it stops me from doing what I am about to do. Why not?
I know a wise and wonderful rabbi here in Venice who also shares my interest in other faiths, but when offered the opportunity to participate in an offering to Krishna politely refused, saying that for him it would be idolatrous. Yet in a few hours I will offer flowers and fruit to Brahman, a clear act of avodah zarah, idolatry, and yet I won’t hesitate to do so at all. What kind of Jew am I? Or am I Jew at all?
Meditating by a lake in Cape Cod forty-two years ago it became clear to me that Lao Tzu was right: the Tao that can be named is not the Eternal Tao. YHVH, Allah, Brahman, etc. are just names, verbal placeholders, that, when properly used, hold open the place of not-knowing. They are like the “—“ in G—D; reminding us that reality is unnamable. True, I love to talk about God, but I do so as a game, piling thought upon thought, and hoping to have them all collapse under their own weight. I’m not looking for the “true” name, but rather for a moment without names.
The Rig Veda’s teaching that “Truth is one, different people call it by different names,” frees me from both abandoning names and having allegiance to them. But being a Jew is all about names, especially The Name, and taking that Name very seriously. Yet I just can’t do so. I love languages, I love names, but I never mistake the menu for meal, the name for that toward which it points, and it is the meal I desire.
Judaism is my primary menu. It is the system of names I go to first and most often. But primary does not mean exclusive, and I find value in many names and many systems. And while I do love to explore the differences and incompatibilities between systems in an academic setting, in my personal life they all point me to the same reality, the nameless “—“ that is both the One and the Many.
So today I become a Hindu, but this label adheres no more tightly than any other. In the end I practice a Teflon spirituality allowing me to mix lots of ingredients without worrying that any will stick.
In a few hours I will be initiated into the Ramakrishna Order of Vendanta Hinduism at the Vendanta Center in Hollywood, CA. It is something I have thought about doing since I began to study the nondual teachings of Hinduism during my junior year of high school.
I am excited and not a little nervous. Neither feeling is especially interesting to me. I’m not expecting any great awakening; certainly not enlightenment. I am doing this for two reasons: First, to honor a tradition from which I have gleaned great wisdom and insight for fifty years, and, second, to move more deeply into that tradition by receiving a mantra and learning how to work with it.
One thing that does interest me as I prepare for this morning’s initiation is what it says about my identity as a Jew. It is one thing for a Jew to study another tradition, and quite another for a Jew to become an initiate in it. The mere fact that this thought arises in me suggests that my Jewish identity is still compelling to me, but not so much that it stops me from doing what I am about to do. Why not?
I know a wise and wonderful rabbi here in Venice who also shares my interest in other faiths, but when offered the opportunity to participate in an offering to Krishna politely refused, saying that for him it would be idolatrous. Yet in a few hours I will offer flowers and fruit to Brahman, a clear act of avodah zarah, idolatry, and yet I won’t hesitate to do so at all. What kind of Jew am I? Or am I Jew at all?
Meditating by a lake in Cape Cod forty-two years ago it became clear to me that Lao Tzu was right: the Tao that can be named is not the Eternal Tao. YHVH, Allah, Brahman, etc. are just names, verbal placeholders, that, when properly used, hold open the place of not-knowing. They are like the “—“ in G—D; reminding us that reality is unnamable. True, I love to talk about God, but I do so as a game, piling thought upon thought, and hoping to have them all collapse under their own weight. I’m not looking for the “true” name, but rather for a moment without names.
The Rig Veda’s teaching that “Truth is one, different people call it by different names,” frees me from both abandoning names and having allegiance to them. But being a Jew is all about names, especially The Name, and taking that Name very seriously. Yet I just can’t do so. I love languages, I love names, but I never mistake the menu for meal, the name for that toward which it points, and it is the meal I desire.
Judaism is my primary menu. It is the system of names I go to first and most often. But primary does not mean exclusive, and I find value in many names and many systems. And while I do love to explore the differences and incompatibilities between systems in an academic setting, in my personal life they all point me to the same reality, the nameless “—“ that is both the One and the Many.
So today I become a Hindu, but this label adheres no more tightly than any other. In the end I practice a Teflon spirituality allowing me to mix lots of ingredients without worrying that any will stick.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
On Retreat
I will be on retreat for the next 10 days, and most likely unable to post. Have a good week.
Holy Spud
You know we are nearing the end times when God reveals the sign of the Cross in two (2) separate potatoes in the United States.
The first Holy Spud appeared to Dennis Bort of Brunswick, Ohio on Christmas Day. The second appeared six days later to Connie and Jim Gross of Marion, Iowa. In both cases, when cut in half each half potato bore an unmistakable Holy Cross.
Now one cross bearing potato, even on Christmas Day, I can dismiss as a fluke. But two? No, something is going on here.
The last time a Cross this important appeared was in the fourth century. Constantinus Augustus was preparing to lead his warriors into battle against his archrival Maximian. The winner would become Emperor of Rome. On the eve of battle Constantine had a vision in which Jesus revealed to him the sign of the Cross saying, In Hoc Signo Vinces. Luckily Constantine took Latin in high school and knew that Jesus was saying, “In this Sign conquer.” And conquer he did.
There is no data suggesting that the Cross seen by Constantine appeared inside a potato, but there is no evidence that it did not, so I choose to believe that it did. Indeed, I choose to believe that Jesus also said to Constantine, In SolanumTuberosum Apperiosus Signo, Returno Meos, which, according to the Hogwarts Dictionary of Faux Latin Phrases, means, “When this Sign appears in a potato, I will return.”
That my friends is conclusive.
To spread the world of Christ’s return, the Borts put their Holy Spud up for sale on eBay. The Grosses are considering similar action. This can only be good news to the believers in the Good News. But, as always, the Jews are a spoiler.
Last Rosh haShanah, Jim Gross’s mother, Miriam Flanken Gross, a Jew and a survivor of both the Holocaust and the Destruction of the Temple by Rome in 70 CE, cut an apple in half for the holy day and found the seeds forming a Star of David. Since every apple properly cut width wise reveals a Star of David she, as countless Jews have done before her, simply assumed that this affirms what we have known for millennia: that we Jews are God’s Chosen People, the Apple of His Never Slumbering Eye, and thought nothing more about it.
When her son told her about the Potato Cross she counted with the Apple Star, and the two have not spoken since.
Anyway, I tend to side with the Spudites, and will consider bidding for both potatoes on eBay. When the Prince of Peace does return to wreck havoc on earth I hope to bribe my way into heaven with a nice offering of fries. Being a person of little faith, however, I’m also keeping a bushel of apples on hand just in case.
The first Holy Spud appeared to Dennis Bort of Brunswick, Ohio on Christmas Day. The second appeared six days later to Connie and Jim Gross of Marion, Iowa. In both cases, when cut in half each half potato bore an unmistakable Holy Cross.
Now one cross bearing potato, even on Christmas Day, I can dismiss as a fluke. But two? No, something is going on here.
The last time a Cross this important appeared was in the fourth century. Constantinus Augustus was preparing to lead his warriors into battle against his archrival Maximian. The winner would become Emperor of Rome. On the eve of battle Constantine had a vision in which Jesus revealed to him the sign of the Cross saying, In Hoc Signo Vinces. Luckily Constantine took Latin in high school and knew that Jesus was saying, “In this Sign conquer.” And conquer he did.
There is no data suggesting that the Cross seen by Constantine appeared inside a potato, but there is no evidence that it did not, so I choose to believe that it did. Indeed, I choose to believe that Jesus also said to Constantine, In SolanumTuberosum Apperiosus Signo, Returno Meos, which, according to the Hogwarts Dictionary of Faux Latin Phrases, means, “When this Sign appears in a potato, I will return.”
That my friends is conclusive.
To spread the world of Christ’s return, the Borts put their Holy Spud up for sale on eBay. The Grosses are considering similar action. This can only be good news to the believers in the Good News. But, as always, the Jews are a spoiler.
Last Rosh haShanah, Jim Gross’s mother, Miriam Flanken Gross, a Jew and a survivor of both the Holocaust and the Destruction of the Temple by Rome in 70 CE, cut an apple in half for the holy day and found the seeds forming a Star of David. Since every apple properly cut width wise reveals a Star of David she, as countless Jews have done before her, simply assumed that this affirms what we have known for millennia: that we Jews are God’s Chosen People, the Apple of His Never Slumbering Eye, and thought nothing more about it.
When her son told her about the Potato Cross she counted with the Apple Star, and the two have not spoken since.
Anyway, I tend to side with the Spudites, and will consider bidding for both potatoes on eBay. When the Prince of Peace does return to wreck havoc on earth I hope to bribe my way into heaven with a nice offering of fries. Being a person of little faith, however, I’m also keeping a bushel of apples on hand just in case.
Monday, January 04, 2010
To Whom Do I Pray?
Jay Michaelson’s article, “Prayer and Nonduality” (Tikkun Nov/Dec 2009) prompts me to share a little of my own wrestling with this topic.
When I was 16 and a beginning student of Zen, I sat on the shore of Cape Cod and disappeared. No body, no mind, no “me” at all. When I returned I knew that whatever Reality is, it has nothing to do with the isms that seek to define it. It is what is: Ehyeh asher Ehyeh (to quote God in Exodus), the ceaseless Is’ing of birth, death, and rebirth. To speak of God and Creation was to speak of Ocean and Wave, the former greater than but not other than the latter. Can the wave pray to the Ocean? I didn’t think so. I stopped praying.
Then, decades later, I began to experience Shekhinah, the presence of God as Divine Mother. I resisted the experience as best I could, but I could not do so for long. So I began to speak to Her and to hear Her speak to me. The trouble was that this clearly dualistic encounter with the Divine violated everything I knew to be true about the nondual nature of Reality.
I was no less Her; She was no less me; and yet we spoke. What She taught me is that if God is All, God must be Other as well. Nonduality when juxtaposed with duality is simply part of a larger duality. True nonduality embraces the Other as well as the One in a greater Reality for which there are no words.
So now I pray. What do I pray? There is little in Jewish liturgy that speaks to me, but what little there is I use as mantra. I chant single lines of Hebrew, the core wisdom of the liturgy, and then I wait. What emerges from this waiting is a conversation: me pouring my heart out to Her, and She mirroring my self back to me in a way that allows me to see through the madness and move beyond it. These are moments of ecstasy unmediated by ritual and decorum. No rising or sitting; no responsive readings; no moments of mumbled pseudo-silence. Just raw, uncensored speech; just saying “Thou;” just hearing echoes of “I.” In time the speech gives way to silence, the wave returns to the Ocean. I am gone. God is all.
Unlike Jay I don’t pray to be transformed. There is no static “me” at all. There is no transformation from one fixed state to another, just ceaseless teshuvah, endless turning from self to Self to self again and again and again. And with each turning there is expansion: not a going round like a planet in orbit around a sun, but a spiraling out like a galaxy. And with each turn and return my heart of opened wider; I am (I think) more loved and loving. I pray for nothing. The turning is its own reward.
Can this happen in a formal synagogue service? Of course, but for me it happens when I walk outside, the rhythm of my steps matching the rhythm of my breath, dancing with the rhythm of Life. Can it happen with our heads buried in a siddur (prayer book), our mouths reciting ancient scripts? Of course, but for me it happens in the far simpler chanting of single lines, the uncensored wildness of unscripted speech, and the greater silence that ultimately engulfs them both.
My thanks to Tikkun magazine for giving us yet another opportunity to hear Jay’s wisdom.
[Tikkun is a wonderful magazine and I urge you all to subscribe/support it. Jay also writes a column for The Forward, another great publication. The magazine business is tough. Subscriptions are its life-blood. Support those magazines you cherish. And check out my column in Spirituality & Health, another important publication worthy of your support.]
When I was 16 and a beginning student of Zen, I sat on the shore of Cape Cod and disappeared. No body, no mind, no “me” at all. When I returned I knew that whatever Reality is, it has nothing to do with the isms that seek to define it. It is what is: Ehyeh asher Ehyeh (to quote God in Exodus), the ceaseless Is’ing of birth, death, and rebirth. To speak of God and Creation was to speak of Ocean and Wave, the former greater than but not other than the latter. Can the wave pray to the Ocean? I didn’t think so. I stopped praying.
Then, decades later, I began to experience Shekhinah, the presence of God as Divine Mother. I resisted the experience as best I could, but I could not do so for long. So I began to speak to Her and to hear Her speak to me. The trouble was that this clearly dualistic encounter with the Divine violated everything I knew to be true about the nondual nature of Reality.
I was no less Her; She was no less me; and yet we spoke. What She taught me is that if God is All, God must be Other as well. Nonduality when juxtaposed with duality is simply part of a larger duality. True nonduality embraces the Other as well as the One in a greater Reality for which there are no words.
So now I pray. What do I pray? There is little in Jewish liturgy that speaks to me, but what little there is I use as mantra. I chant single lines of Hebrew, the core wisdom of the liturgy, and then I wait. What emerges from this waiting is a conversation: me pouring my heart out to Her, and She mirroring my self back to me in a way that allows me to see through the madness and move beyond it. These are moments of ecstasy unmediated by ritual and decorum. No rising or sitting; no responsive readings; no moments of mumbled pseudo-silence. Just raw, uncensored speech; just saying “Thou;” just hearing echoes of “I.” In time the speech gives way to silence, the wave returns to the Ocean. I am gone. God is all.
Unlike Jay I don’t pray to be transformed. There is no static “me” at all. There is no transformation from one fixed state to another, just ceaseless teshuvah, endless turning from self to Self to self again and again and again. And with each turning there is expansion: not a going round like a planet in orbit around a sun, but a spiraling out like a galaxy. And with each turn and return my heart of opened wider; I am (I think) more loved and loving. I pray for nothing. The turning is its own reward.
Can this happen in a formal synagogue service? Of course, but for me it happens when I walk outside, the rhythm of my steps matching the rhythm of my breath, dancing with the rhythm of Life. Can it happen with our heads buried in a siddur (prayer book), our mouths reciting ancient scripts? Of course, but for me it happens in the far simpler chanting of single lines, the uncensored wildness of unscripted speech, and the greater silence that ultimately engulfs them both.
My thanks to Tikkun magazine for giving us yet another opportunity to hear Jay’s wisdom.
[Tikkun is a wonderful magazine and I urge you all to subscribe/support it. Jay also writes a column for The Forward, another great publication. The magazine business is tough. Subscriptions are its life-blood. Support those magazines you cherish. And check out my column in Spirituality & Health, another important publication worthy of your support.]
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Prophets Be Damned
During my first year of rabbinical school I was told by one professor that a rabbi could be a prophet or a clerk. A prophet is one who spoke truth to power. A clerk is one who catered to the needs of the powerful. A rabbi must choose, I was told: prophet or clerk? Most rabbis, the professor concluded, choose to be clerks.
Rabbi Steven Wernick, the head of Conservative Judaism’s Rabbinical Association, chose to be a prophet recently when he claimed that his colleagues lacked missionary zeal, adding, “We want to get paid. We don’t believe.” The clerks revolted, and Rabbi Wernick was forced to recant and apologize.
Are rabbis really in it for the money? No. There isn’t enough money to be had. But we do have families, and mortgages, and college tuitions to pay, and that takes money, and money comes from people who like you and who think you are a good rabbi. And most people who like their rabbi and who think their rabbi is a good rabbi do so because their rabbis says want they want to hear. People like clerks. True, clerks don’t inspire us, but they don’t upset us either. Prophets ruffle feathers, and people with ruffled feathers rarely pay to support the ruffler. So if you want to survive in the congregational world you learn to be a clerk.
And it isn’t just in the congregations that money matters, denominational power is also determined by money. The most powerful rabbis in any movement are those who raise the most money for that movement. And to do that you need to build a large congregation willing to donate to that movement. And to do that you have to cultivate people with money. And to do that you have to be the rabbi they want you to be, you have to be a clerk.
In the process of building a wealthy congregation, of course, the rabbi too becomes wealthy, and the more rabbis earn the more they are expected to give to their seminary and their movement, and the more they give the more say they have in shaping the policies of that movement. The circle is closed and inescapably geared to clerkdom.
But what about Rabbi Wernick’s other claim, that liberal rabbis don’t believe? What he meant was that we don’t believe enough to live in near poverty as so many Chabad rabbis do who gladly set out to serve Jews in the remote outposts of world Jewry. We liberal American rabbis didn’t sign up to serve the Jews of Calcutta, especially if we have to live in Calcutta in order to do so. Chabad rabbis go where they are sent because they believe saving a single Jewish soul is worth any sacrifice. They believe they are doing God’s work. Do liberal rabbis believe this? I don’t know. But even if they do, they have a hard time imagining that God wants them to do God’s work in a place that lacks proper sanitation, air conditioning, and cable television.
Not that liberal rabbis don’t sacrifice. Anyone burdened with the task of clerking middle class American Jews with a strong sense of personal entitlement knows about sacrifice.
Anyway, I wish Rabbi Wernick well in his job, and I applaud his moment of prophetic zeal. I fear, though, that he has learned a sad lesson: if he wants to keep his job he has to abandon any pretence of being a prophet. The clerks have won again. They always do.
Rabbi Steven Wernick, the head of Conservative Judaism’s Rabbinical Association, chose to be a prophet recently when he claimed that his colleagues lacked missionary zeal, adding, “We want to get paid. We don’t believe.” The clerks revolted, and Rabbi Wernick was forced to recant and apologize.
Are rabbis really in it for the money? No. There isn’t enough money to be had. But we do have families, and mortgages, and college tuitions to pay, and that takes money, and money comes from people who like you and who think you are a good rabbi. And most people who like their rabbi and who think their rabbi is a good rabbi do so because their rabbis says want they want to hear. People like clerks. True, clerks don’t inspire us, but they don’t upset us either. Prophets ruffle feathers, and people with ruffled feathers rarely pay to support the ruffler. So if you want to survive in the congregational world you learn to be a clerk.
And it isn’t just in the congregations that money matters, denominational power is also determined by money. The most powerful rabbis in any movement are those who raise the most money for that movement. And to do that you need to build a large congregation willing to donate to that movement. And to do that you have to cultivate people with money. And to do that you have to be the rabbi they want you to be, you have to be a clerk.
In the process of building a wealthy congregation, of course, the rabbi too becomes wealthy, and the more rabbis earn the more they are expected to give to their seminary and their movement, and the more they give the more say they have in shaping the policies of that movement. The circle is closed and inescapably geared to clerkdom.
But what about Rabbi Wernick’s other claim, that liberal rabbis don’t believe? What he meant was that we don’t believe enough to live in near poverty as so many Chabad rabbis do who gladly set out to serve Jews in the remote outposts of world Jewry. We liberal American rabbis didn’t sign up to serve the Jews of Calcutta, especially if we have to live in Calcutta in order to do so. Chabad rabbis go where they are sent because they believe saving a single Jewish soul is worth any sacrifice. They believe they are doing God’s work. Do liberal rabbis believe this? I don’t know. But even if they do, they have a hard time imagining that God wants them to do God’s work in a place that lacks proper sanitation, air conditioning, and cable television.
Not that liberal rabbis don’t sacrifice. Anyone burdened with the task of clerking middle class American Jews with a strong sense of personal entitlement knows about sacrifice.
Anyway, I wish Rabbi Wernick well in his job, and I applaud his moment of prophetic zeal. I fear, though, that he has learned a sad lesson: if he wants to keep his job he has to abandon any pretence of being a prophet. The clerks have won again. They always do.
Friday, January 01, 2010
Beyond Religion
Several people have emailed me to ask what I mean by the tag line “beyond religion.” I thought it might be appropriate to devote my first post of 2010 to this question.
First, to go beyond religion means to take religion seriously and yet hold it lightly, dedicating oneself to spiritual disciplines designed to continually open your mind, heart, and hands to compassion rather than to particular beliefs promoted by one or another of the world’s religions.
Second, “beyond religion” means that I take any and all religions as particular expressions of a universal (if unconscious) longing for unity, meaning, and transformative experiences that open the heart to compassion. Religions are essentially stories designed to speak to and fulfill this longing. We are drawn to those religions whose stories speak to us, and whose rituals bring the stories alive in ways that allow us to become more alive by enacting them. In the past it was customary for a person to adhere to only one story, today it is becoming more and more common to find ourselves drawn to multiple stories. It is the multiplicity that takes us “beyond religion” and reveals the greater quest that transcends and given religion.
Regarding this blog, “beyond religion” means that I often focus on the foibles of religion and peoples religious to see how religion is often reduced to a commodity, with different brands competing for the hearts, minds, and money of billions of human beings. In this sense religion is no longer about unity, meaning, and transformative experience, but about wealth, power, and control over the minds and lives of others. This is not a new phenomenon, but one we continually need be reminded of if we are to free ourselves from it, and salvage the deeper power of the religious quest.
And lastly, “beyond religion” means that my personal quest isn’t to be a better Jew, Christian, Hindu, Muslim, etc. but simply a better person. I do not feel bound to any doctrine, and my ultimately loyalty isn’t to any religious brand. I am suspicious of any religion that claims to be the only way to salvation; indeed I am suspicious of all particularist and exclusivist religious claims. Religions can carry great truths, but these should not be confused with historical or biological facts. Religion speaks through myth and metaphor, and only when we engage them in this manner do they reveal the truths they contain.
Sometimes, of course, this blog is just a rant. And most of the time (this post being an exception) I try to use humor to make my point, though some of you fail to take as funny what seems to me to be incredibly clever and hysterical.
In any case, I hope this reminds us what this blog is about. As always I invite you to comment on what I write, and/or to add your own take on religion as well.
May 2010 be a year of creativity, joy, peace, and meaning for us all.
First, to go beyond religion means to take religion seriously and yet hold it lightly, dedicating oneself to spiritual disciplines designed to continually open your mind, heart, and hands to compassion rather than to particular beliefs promoted by one or another of the world’s religions.
Second, “beyond religion” means that I take any and all religions as particular expressions of a universal (if unconscious) longing for unity, meaning, and transformative experiences that open the heart to compassion. Religions are essentially stories designed to speak to and fulfill this longing. We are drawn to those religions whose stories speak to us, and whose rituals bring the stories alive in ways that allow us to become more alive by enacting them. In the past it was customary for a person to adhere to only one story, today it is becoming more and more common to find ourselves drawn to multiple stories. It is the multiplicity that takes us “beyond religion” and reveals the greater quest that transcends and given religion.
Regarding this blog, “beyond religion” means that I often focus on the foibles of religion and peoples religious to see how religion is often reduced to a commodity, with different brands competing for the hearts, minds, and money of billions of human beings. In this sense religion is no longer about unity, meaning, and transformative experience, but about wealth, power, and control over the minds and lives of others. This is not a new phenomenon, but one we continually need be reminded of if we are to free ourselves from it, and salvage the deeper power of the religious quest.
And lastly, “beyond religion” means that my personal quest isn’t to be a better Jew, Christian, Hindu, Muslim, etc. but simply a better person. I do not feel bound to any doctrine, and my ultimately loyalty isn’t to any religious brand. I am suspicious of any religion that claims to be the only way to salvation; indeed I am suspicious of all particularist and exclusivist religious claims. Religions can carry great truths, but these should not be confused with historical or biological facts. Religion speaks through myth and metaphor, and only when we engage them in this manner do they reveal the truths they contain.
Sometimes, of course, this blog is just a rant. And most of the time (this post being an exception) I try to use humor to make my point, though some of you fail to take as funny what seems to me to be incredibly clever and hysterical.
In any case, I hope this reminds us what this blog is about. As always I invite you to comment on what I write, and/or to add your own take on religion as well.
May 2010 be a year of creativity, joy, peace, and meaning for us all.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Which is More Valuable: A Fetus or a Jew?
In the contest over which is more valuable, a fetus or a Jew, the results are in and the fetus wins hands down.
Just as Catholic Bishops across the United States clamp down on Catholic politicians who support a woman’s right to choose abortion (which as different from supporting abortion as supporting a Nazi’s right to march is from supporting Nazism), the Vatican brings Pope Pius XII (twelve) one (I) step closer to sainthood.
This fun loving Pope, dubbed The Holocaust Pope, was recently declared a person of “heroic virtue.” Let’s see how the Vatican defines heroic virtue.
First, Pius XII knew early on that Hitler planned to murder every Jew he could find. Heroically, the Pope remained silent. Second, as more than one thousand Jews were taken from the Roman Ghetto within sight of the Pope’s apartments in the Vatican to die in Auschwitz, our hero did nothing. Third, at the close of the war when some senior Catholic Church officials ran the “rat line” that scurried Nazis like Adolf Eichmann out of Germany and into Latin America, the Pope acted virtuously and did nothing.
But then again, Jews aren’t fetuses. Which may be why our heroic Pope Pius XII never even threatened to withhold communion from Hitler or German Catholics and Catholic Nazis if they participated in the slaughter of Jews. “Eat a Jew on Sunday, kill a Jew throughout the week” may have been his motto.
So the Church will soon have a saint whose only claim to fame is that he heroically and virtuously did nothing while 6,000,000 Jews were slaughtered under his nose.
Perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised at this. After all Pope Benedict who is pushing the sainthood of Pius XII belonged to Hitler Youth, and recently welcomed the return of Bishop Richard Williamson who is notorious for his anti-Semitism and Holocaust denial.
But maybe Pope Benedict knows something we do not. After all the Vatican refuses to open its archives to allow independent scholars access to the records relating to Pope Pius XII, so maybe there is something in those records that proves he was both heroic and virtuous. But, if there was such evidence, you would think the Church would stop keeping it secret.
Until we know better, we Jews must be reminded that the Church, for all its insistence to the contrary, is not now and has never been a friend to the Jews. This is in no way a blanket condemnation of Catholics. Many risked their lives to save Jews during the Holocaust, but they did so independently of Pius XII, who, if he had his way, would have preferred them to be heroic and virtuous, following his lead and remaining silent and inactive, and allow themselves and thousands more like them to be slaughtered. Ah, what a saint!
Just as Catholic Bishops across the United States clamp down on Catholic politicians who support a woman’s right to choose abortion (which as different from supporting abortion as supporting a Nazi’s right to march is from supporting Nazism), the Vatican brings Pope Pius XII (twelve) one (I) step closer to sainthood.
This fun loving Pope, dubbed The Holocaust Pope, was recently declared a person of “heroic virtue.” Let’s see how the Vatican defines heroic virtue.
First, Pius XII knew early on that Hitler planned to murder every Jew he could find. Heroically, the Pope remained silent. Second, as more than one thousand Jews were taken from the Roman Ghetto within sight of the Pope’s apartments in the Vatican to die in Auschwitz, our hero did nothing. Third, at the close of the war when some senior Catholic Church officials ran the “rat line” that scurried Nazis like Adolf Eichmann out of Germany and into Latin America, the Pope acted virtuously and did nothing.
But then again, Jews aren’t fetuses. Which may be why our heroic Pope Pius XII never even threatened to withhold communion from Hitler or German Catholics and Catholic Nazis if they participated in the slaughter of Jews. “Eat a Jew on Sunday, kill a Jew throughout the week” may have been his motto.
So the Church will soon have a saint whose only claim to fame is that he heroically and virtuously did nothing while 6,000,000 Jews were slaughtered under his nose.
Perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised at this. After all Pope Benedict who is pushing the sainthood of Pius XII belonged to Hitler Youth, and recently welcomed the return of Bishop Richard Williamson who is notorious for his anti-Semitism and Holocaust denial.
But maybe Pope Benedict knows something we do not. After all the Vatican refuses to open its archives to allow independent scholars access to the records relating to Pope Pius XII, so maybe there is something in those records that proves he was both heroic and virtuous. But, if there was such evidence, you would think the Church would stop keeping it secret.
Until we know better, we Jews must be reminded that the Church, for all its insistence to the contrary, is not now and has never been a friend to the Jews. This is in no way a blanket condemnation of Catholics. Many risked their lives to save Jews during the Holocaust, but they did so independently of Pius XII, who, if he had his way, would have preferred them to be heroic and virtuous, following his lead and remaining silent and inactive, and allow themselves and thousands more like them to be slaughtered. Ah, what a saint!
Monday, December 28, 2009
Interfaith Amigos & the Future of Interfaith Dialogue
[Disclaimers: A) I am a friend of Rabbi Ted Falcon, one of the Interfaith Amigos. B) I spend most of my time and energy engaged in interfaith dialogue.]
I’m listening to an On Point interview with the three Interfaith Amigos: Rabbi Ted Falcon, Sheikh Jamal Rahman, and Pastor Don Mackenzie. Great guys, all. Intelligent, warm, and filled with hope. Question after question is answered with care, calm, and a liberalism that, after a while, I find more than annoying.
As the interview goes on I learn that all the hate-filled, xenophobic, misogynist, and triumphalist aspects of these three Abrahamic faiths are either anachronisms to be abandoned, or particularist expressions of universal truths. In other words, to take but one example, when Christianity claims that Jesus is the sole means to salvation we are to understand this as addressed to Christians only, and not claiming that Jews and Muslims must come to God through Christ. Or when Jews claim to be God’s Chosen People we are told that God chooses everyone for something, and hence the chosenness of the Jews does not exclude the fact that others are also God’s chosen.
This kind of liberal niceness is totally disingenuous. If Christian claims are only true for Christians, then they aren’t really true. And if God chooses everyone, then God really chooses no one which undermines the entirety of classical Judaism, to say nothing of contemporary Jewish claims to Israel as the Promised Land.
In other words, the Three Interfaith Amigos are amigos not because they have learned to transcend their differences, but because they have no differences. The religions these three clergymen represent are so liberal as to be almost interchangeable.
Once you abandon the exclusivist claims of each of the Abrahamic religions, you have to ask yourself why you would choose to maintain loyalty to one or another among them? The answer cannot be that one is true, while the others are false. They are all saying the same thing in different ways, so the only attractor is that you prefer one flavor of faith to another. Can it be that simple? Am I Jewish because I prefer it to Christianity the way I prefer mint chocolate chip ice cream to plain chocolate chip ice cream? And if that is all it is, is it so shocking and novel that I can have friends who prefer another flavor, and even can befriend those lactose intolerant types who refuse to eat ice cream at all? Is this worthy of special praise and an hour with Tom Ashbrook on NPR?
I am neither surprised nor impressed that Ted, Jamal, and Don get along, and agree on essentials. I expect no less from well-educated, liberal, middle class Americans. The fact that they call the exclusivist claims of their traditions “untruths” rather than hard truths suggests that the only way for Judaism, Christianity, and Islam to become friends is to deny as false the claims most central to each faith.
Where does this leave interfaith dialogue?
This is not an academic question for me. I work with teachers from many traditions, and we, too, get along and agree, and we do so by negating the core of our respective faiths and upholding a liberal universalism instead. We begin with the modernist assumption that there is Truth and that all religions point to the same Truth, and interpret our respective religions in light of this. But, with the exception of Hinduism which actually says this (Truth is one, different people call it by different names), this assumption does not come from our respective religions. It comes from liberal, democratic capitalism that reduces everything to a matter of taste.
So what am I left with? Questions mostly.
Is true interfaith dialogue happening among liberals, or must we wait for fundamentalists to take one another on around the table? Does it matter that liberals of different tribes can get along? Are liberal religionists clinging to outmoded faith labels when in fact they (we) are all liberal humanists? Is there a way to admit, honor, and use one’s historical identity without abandoning universalism or watering down that identity?
I don’t have answers to these and similar questions. If you do, please share them with me. And if the three Interfaith Amigos read this blog, please help me understand. My own spiritual path depends on it.
I’m listening to an On Point interview with the three Interfaith Amigos: Rabbi Ted Falcon, Sheikh Jamal Rahman, and Pastor Don Mackenzie. Great guys, all. Intelligent, warm, and filled with hope. Question after question is answered with care, calm, and a liberalism that, after a while, I find more than annoying.
As the interview goes on I learn that all the hate-filled, xenophobic, misogynist, and triumphalist aspects of these three Abrahamic faiths are either anachronisms to be abandoned, or particularist expressions of universal truths. In other words, to take but one example, when Christianity claims that Jesus is the sole means to salvation we are to understand this as addressed to Christians only, and not claiming that Jews and Muslims must come to God through Christ. Or when Jews claim to be God’s Chosen People we are told that God chooses everyone for something, and hence the chosenness of the Jews does not exclude the fact that others are also God’s chosen.
This kind of liberal niceness is totally disingenuous. If Christian claims are only true for Christians, then they aren’t really true. And if God chooses everyone, then God really chooses no one which undermines the entirety of classical Judaism, to say nothing of contemporary Jewish claims to Israel as the Promised Land.
In other words, the Three Interfaith Amigos are amigos not because they have learned to transcend their differences, but because they have no differences. The religions these three clergymen represent are so liberal as to be almost interchangeable.
Once you abandon the exclusivist claims of each of the Abrahamic religions, you have to ask yourself why you would choose to maintain loyalty to one or another among them? The answer cannot be that one is true, while the others are false. They are all saying the same thing in different ways, so the only attractor is that you prefer one flavor of faith to another. Can it be that simple? Am I Jewish because I prefer it to Christianity the way I prefer mint chocolate chip ice cream to plain chocolate chip ice cream? And if that is all it is, is it so shocking and novel that I can have friends who prefer another flavor, and even can befriend those lactose intolerant types who refuse to eat ice cream at all? Is this worthy of special praise and an hour with Tom Ashbrook on NPR?
I am neither surprised nor impressed that Ted, Jamal, and Don get along, and agree on essentials. I expect no less from well-educated, liberal, middle class Americans. The fact that they call the exclusivist claims of their traditions “untruths” rather than hard truths suggests that the only way for Judaism, Christianity, and Islam to become friends is to deny as false the claims most central to each faith.
Where does this leave interfaith dialogue?
This is not an academic question for me. I work with teachers from many traditions, and we, too, get along and agree, and we do so by negating the core of our respective faiths and upholding a liberal universalism instead. We begin with the modernist assumption that there is Truth and that all religions point to the same Truth, and interpret our respective religions in light of this. But, with the exception of Hinduism which actually says this (Truth is one, different people call it by different names), this assumption does not come from our respective religions. It comes from liberal, democratic capitalism that reduces everything to a matter of taste.
So what am I left with? Questions mostly.
Is true interfaith dialogue happening among liberals, or must we wait for fundamentalists to take one another on around the table? Does it matter that liberals of different tribes can get along? Are liberal religionists clinging to outmoded faith labels when in fact they (we) are all liberal humanists? Is there a way to admit, honor, and use one’s historical identity without abandoning universalism or watering down that identity?
I don’t have answers to these and similar questions. If you do, please share them with me. And if the three Interfaith Amigos read this blog, please help me understand. My own spiritual path depends on it.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Plan for the Scan: Entrepreneurial Opportunities for the Quick
The actions of Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab, the Nigerian terrorist who tried to take down Northwest Airlines Flight 253 bound for Detroit, have created a renewed call for extreme screening measures at airports around the world. In the United States this means full body X-ray screening.
There will be no dearth of blogs and essays about this man, his faith, and the madness of religion, but I want to speak about something new: the entrepreneurial opportunities provided us by Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab.
Because of him travelers in the US (and elsewhere) will be subject to full body X-ray scans which, as we have seen in test after test, produces a near naked image of the person being scanned. Which is where the entrepreneur comes in.
Think of it this way: if you look like Angelina Jolie or Brad Pitt you probably don’t mind having hundreds of strangers know that. But if you look like me, the full body scan broadcasts to America that I am one of the many overweight slobs whose flab spills over the sides of the airplane’s all too narrow coach seats. Well, I, and millions like me, don’t want to be seen that way; so I, and millions like me, will be searching for products that will make us look slim, trim, and sexy for the full body scan voyeurs.
If you start producing these products now, you can get ahead of the curve.
Start with diets like The Full Body Scan Diet: “Loose 21 Pounds when you buy your ticket 21 days in advance“. Or Diet Before You Fly It, or The Scan Plan, or any number of quick loss schemes that you can sell to frantic travelers.
And don’t forget exercise. Ticket and Train, for example, would be a franchise operation combining travel agents and exercise trainers. You would go to the Ticket and Train center, buy your ticket and be assigned a trainer who will help you get in shape for the scan. Prices would vary depending on the lead-time before your flight.
Then there are scanner friendly travel clothes. I can imagine a lead lined clothing line that would shape your scan so that you looked hot even if you’re not. Or a line of fat controlling clothing that would push your fat in various directions to make you look sexier. You might consider a line of underwear that revealed clever messages when scanned by X-rays.
There is no end of products and services you can design for the new scan-conscious traveler. And you have Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab to thank for it. And, if you do come up with an idea, why not talk to Umar’s dad, a prominent Nigerian banker, for help with financing. He might be able to put you in touch with a Nigerian widow who just won the lottery and needs your help to cash in. If you send her some money, she might invest some of her millions in your new scan-scam.
There will be no dearth of blogs and essays about this man, his faith, and the madness of religion, but I want to speak about something new: the entrepreneurial opportunities provided us by Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab.
Because of him travelers in the US (and elsewhere) will be subject to full body X-ray scans which, as we have seen in test after test, produces a near naked image of the person being scanned. Which is where the entrepreneur comes in.
Think of it this way: if you look like Angelina Jolie or Brad Pitt you probably don’t mind having hundreds of strangers know that. But if you look like me, the full body scan broadcasts to America that I am one of the many overweight slobs whose flab spills over the sides of the airplane’s all too narrow coach seats. Well, I, and millions like me, don’t want to be seen that way; so I, and millions like me, will be searching for products that will make us look slim, trim, and sexy for the full body scan voyeurs.
If you start producing these products now, you can get ahead of the curve.
Start with diets like The Full Body Scan Diet: “Loose 21 Pounds when you buy your ticket 21 days in advance“. Or Diet Before You Fly It, or The Scan Plan, or any number of quick loss schemes that you can sell to frantic travelers.
And don’t forget exercise. Ticket and Train, for example, would be a franchise operation combining travel agents and exercise trainers. You would go to the Ticket and Train center, buy your ticket and be assigned a trainer who will help you get in shape for the scan. Prices would vary depending on the lead-time before your flight.
Then there are scanner friendly travel clothes. I can imagine a lead lined clothing line that would shape your scan so that you looked hot even if you’re not. Or a line of fat controlling clothing that would push your fat in various directions to make you look sexier. You might consider a line of underwear that revealed clever messages when scanned by X-rays.
There is no end of products and services you can design for the new scan-conscious traveler. And you have Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab to thank for it. And, if you do come up with an idea, why not talk to Umar’s dad, a prominent Nigerian banker, for help with financing. He might be able to put you in touch with a Nigerian widow who just won the lottery and needs your help to cash in. If you send her some money, she might invest some of her millions in your new scan-scam.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Avatar or How I learned to hate the White and love the Blue
OK, OK, I surrender! I hate the white race. I hate humankind. I hate corporations. And I want desperately to be blue-ish! After two hours and forty-two minutes of three dimensional humanity bashing I am ready to do all I can to push carbon emissions into the 500s and hasten the death of this awful species called homo sapiens sapiens.
As you may have guessed I spent Christmas Eve watching James Cameron’s blockbuster hit, Avatar. I don’t do movie reviews, but this is such a cultural phenomenon (at least on NPR) that I feel obligated to say something about it. So let me say this: a trite, predictable 380 million dollar remake of Dune? You have got to be kidding me.
Of course the 3-D was fun and perfectly understated. And I loved wearing the 3-d glasses that made the entire audience look like we were contestants in a Buddy Holly look-a-like contest. And the world of Pandora was visually stunning. And the time flew by entertainingly. And if the acting wasn’t so stiff and the script so lame, the special effects might have been enough to get my vote for Best Picture of Christmas Eve, but the moral was so obvious, the plot so derivative, and the manipulation of my emotions so heavy-handed that in the end I felt neither elated nor satisfied, but rather pissed off and cheated.
I get it: We humans have, as the film says, “killed our mother.” And, left to our own devices we may well, as the movie says, strip our planet of “green.” And certainly our history right up to this moment is one of genocide, slavery, and planet-wide degradation in the name of profit, power, and the gods that serve them. But does that justify mashing together Dune, Dances With Wolves, Wall-E, The Last Samurai, and Starship Troopers into what has to be the most over used “plot” of the last fifty years? I don’t think so.
One sign that Avatar failed to totally capture my imagination, were the questions that kept running through my mind as I was watching the film. For example:
Why call the world Pandora? I assume it refers to the Greek myth, but why? In the myth Pandora is given a jar (pithos, not a box) in which are stuffed all the woes of humankind. Pandora is told not to open the jar, but her curiosity gets the better of her and she does open it releasing all evil on humankind. What does this have to do with either the planet or the movie? Planet Pandora doesn’t contain evil. And the Blues of Pandora, the Na’vi (which is bluish, I mean Jewish, for “prophet”), don’t appear curious about anything. They have no science or medicine. Given that only two of them seemed to have aged past what I estimate in human years to be 19, most Na’vi die very young.
Perhaps the planet is called Pandora because at the bottom of Pandora’s jar lies hope. Except that the movie offers no hope— not for the earthlings who go home empty¬–handed or for the Na’vi who will eventually be slaughtered when the earthlings return better armed. And make no mistake about it, they/we will return. And not simply because there is more money to be made in sequels, but because when it comes to killing indigenous species in order to extract rocks from the ground, we are Number One.
And speaking of rocks, did I hear correctly that what the humans are willing to commit genocide over is a rock called unobtainium? Unobtainium? Are you kidding me? Is the best we can get for 380 mil is a writer who rips off Rock and Bullwinkle’s star mineral, upsidaisium?
And why are all the Na’vi anorexic? Didn’t anyone overeat on this planet? After eating one Giant Jumbo Large bag o’ popcorn (sans butter, I’m in OA) during the ads and previews leading up to the movie, and working diligently on a second bag (I paid for that free refill, damn it, and I am going to get my money’s worth), it was clear to me that the blue people of Pandora had no room for fat people like me.
And what were the tails for? Was there no evolution on this planet? At first I thought they needed the tail to plug into the giant beasts they rode, but then it seemed they could jack the dragon with their hair, so why the tail? They didn’t use it for climbing, swinging from trees, holding weapons, or anything useful. I would expect it to have fallen off eons ago.
And, if the Na’vi are so peace loving, why is their sole technology focused on weaponry? They knew how to make poison, but not medicine; bows and arrows but nothing else. They knew how to hunt and kill, but not how to farm and heal. What does that say about them?
And then there is the racism and sexism. The bad guys were almost exclusively white and male, and came in two flavors: corporate murderer (short, scrawny, and heartless) and military murderer (huge, muscular, and heartless). The only person of color (other than blue) in the film with any kind of part to play was the female Han Solo stand-in who at the height of the initial slaughter of the Na’vi had a change of heart and joined the other side. The only other person of color I noticed was a black guy yelling his desire to slaughter blues as Colonel Quaritch whipped up his troops for war. The morality of this film was clearly Blue and White. Pick your side.
In the end the good guys won, and the remnants of the white, oh, sorry, human race, return to their green-less dead mother planet without their unobtainium (Oh, now I get it, the rock was unobtainable! Talk about foreshadowing!). Are we supposed to think that this is the end of the story? Are the rock-hungry earthlings so weakened and ashamed as to go home for good? Are we to imagine that peace between White and Blue is possible? Talk about unobtainium! Corporate warmongers do not take “no” for an answer. They will return, and when they do they will do so with a huge armada of deathstars rather than one stupid command ship that lacks proper shielding.
True, given the fact that Na’vi seem to die so young, the capitalist armada may not return in Jordo Schell’s life time (Get it? He’s just a shell), but it will return. After all, when it comes to doing battle with beings armed with wooden sticks dipped in poison (they hadn’t even invented the arrow head; no rocks on Pandora other than upsidaisyum?) we humans know how to kick some tail.
And this is what bugged me most of all: there is no way out of war and genocide and corporate greed and human hatred of all species blue and nonhuman. No one learns anything on either side of the conflict. And the people who could possibly help both sides learn are either dead (Dr. Grace Augustine—can these names get any more obvious?) or permanently blue (Jordo Schell). At least in the Star Trek version of this plot (“The Devil in the Dark,” Original Series, aired on 3/9/67), Mr. Spock manages to broker a deal that allows the white heartless miners and their evil corporate overlords (can there be corporate overlords in a society without money where anyone can replicate anything they want for free?) to get their precious rocks without murdering all the Horta in the process. If the Na’vi can’t mind meld like Spock, couldn’t they at least hair-jack the bad guys in the ass and help them learn the value of blue:
“I am a Blue. Hath not a Blue eyes? Hath not a Blue hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? … If you prick us, do we not bleed? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?”
But nothing like this happens in Avatar. On the contrary, the bad guys go back to earth with years of homeward bound space travel during which to perfect their story about this evil, hostile, and human-hating species on Pandora that mindlessly murdered all our brave mercenaries and miners who only wanted a few stones that the evil Na'vi didn't even care about. When they get home they will rally what is left of our greenless mother-killing species, and fly back to Pandora to take our revenge in Avatar 2: The Return of the White Meanies (please note clever Beatles reference).
But I am not totally without hope. Things may get better in Avatar 3: Dead, White, and Blue when Pandora is a mining colony and the Na’vi have opened casinos, legalized prostitution (“You’ve never had tail, until you’ve had blue tail”), turned the Tree of Souls into a theme park, and have found myriad other ways to profit off of the White Man’s obsession with sex, gambling, and mindless entertainment. In fact they will have improved their lifestyle and diet sufficiently to allow themselves to live long enough to die of cancer.
So, what’s the bottom-line? Yes, Avatar was fun to watch, and the special effects were wonderful. But was it worth the 380 million dollars James Cameron spent on it, and the $10.20 that I tossed in to help him recoup his expenses? Doubt it. Is it the movie of the decade? No. Will it change movie making forever? Maybe, but who cares? Will it change anything else? No. In the end it is just a screed against capitalism offering no redemption, and promising only endless slaughter. And, given the state of our planet at the moment, it may well be prophetic—Na’vi, get it?
As you may have guessed I spent Christmas Eve watching James Cameron’s blockbuster hit, Avatar. I don’t do movie reviews, but this is such a cultural phenomenon (at least on NPR) that I feel obligated to say something about it. So let me say this: a trite, predictable 380 million dollar remake of Dune? You have got to be kidding me.
Of course the 3-D was fun and perfectly understated. And I loved wearing the 3-d glasses that made the entire audience look like we were contestants in a Buddy Holly look-a-like contest. And the world of Pandora was visually stunning. And the time flew by entertainingly. And if the acting wasn’t so stiff and the script so lame, the special effects might have been enough to get my vote for Best Picture of Christmas Eve, but the moral was so obvious, the plot so derivative, and the manipulation of my emotions so heavy-handed that in the end I felt neither elated nor satisfied, but rather pissed off and cheated.
I get it: We humans have, as the film says, “killed our mother.” And, left to our own devices we may well, as the movie says, strip our planet of “green.” And certainly our history right up to this moment is one of genocide, slavery, and planet-wide degradation in the name of profit, power, and the gods that serve them. But does that justify mashing together Dune, Dances With Wolves, Wall-E, The Last Samurai, and Starship Troopers into what has to be the most over used “plot” of the last fifty years? I don’t think so.
One sign that Avatar failed to totally capture my imagination, were the questions that kept running through my mind as I was watching the film. For example:
Why call the world Pandora? I assume it refers to the Greek myth, but why? In the myth Pandora is given a jar (pithos, not a box) in which are stuffed all the woes of humankind. Pandora is told not to open the jar, but her curiosity gets the better of her and she does open it releasing all evil on humankind. What does this have to do with either the planet or the movie? Planet Pandora doesn’t contain evil. And the Blues of Pandora, the Na’vi (which is bluish, I mean Jewish, for “prophet”), don’t appear curious about anything. They have no science or medicine. Given that only two of them seemed to have aged past what I estimate in human years to be 19, most Na’vi die very young.
Perhaps the planet is called Pandora because at the bottom of Pandora’s jar lies hope. Except that the movie offers no hope— not for the earthlings who go home empty¬–handed or for the Na’vi who will eventually be slaughtered when the earthlings return better armed. And make no mistake about it, they/we will return. And not simply because there is more money to be made in sequels, but because when it comes to killing indigenous species in order to extract rocks from the ground, we are Number One.
And speaking of rocks, did I hear correctly that what the humans are willing to commit genocide over is a rock called unobtainium? Unobtainium? Are you kidding me? Is the best we can get for 380 mil is a writer who rips off Rock and Bullwinkle’s star mineral, upsidaisium?
And why are all the Na’vi anorexic? Didn’t anyone overeat on this planet? After eating one Giant Jumbo Large bag o’ popcorn (sans butter, I’m in OA) during the ads and previews leading up to the movie, and working diligently on a second bag (I paid for that free refill, damn it, and I am going to get my money’s worth), it was clear to me that the blue people of Pandora had no room for fat people like me.
And what were the tails for? Was there no evolution on this planet? At first I thought they needed the tail to plug into the giant beasts they rode, but then it seemed they could jack the dragon with their hair, so why the tail? They didn’t use it for climbing, swinging from trees, holding weapons, or anything useful. I would expect it to have fallen off eons ago.
And, if the Na’vi are so peace loving, why is their sole technology focused on weaponry? They knew how to make poison, but not medicine; bows and arrows but nothing else. They knew how to hunt and kill, but not how to farm and heal. What does that say about them?
And then there is the racism and sexism. The bad guys were almost exclusively white and male, and came in two flavors: corporate murderer (short, scrawny, and heartless) and military murderer (huge, muscular, and heartless). The only person of color (other than blue) in the film with any kind of part to play was the female Han Solo stand-in who at the height of the initial slaughter of the Na’vi had a change of heart and joined the other side. The only other person of color I noticed was a black guy yelling his desire to slaughter blues as Colonel Quaritch whipped up his troops for war. The morality of this film was clearly Blue and White. Pick your side.
In the end the good guys won, and the remnants of the white, oh, sorry, human race, return to their green-less dead mother planet without their unobtainium (Oh, now I get it, the rock was unobtainable! Talk about foreshadowing!). Are we supposed to think that this is the end of the story? Are the rock-hungry earthlings so weakened and ashamed as to go home for good? Are we to imagine that peace between White and Blue is possible? Talk about unobtainium! Corporate warmongers do not take “no” for an answer. They will return, and when they do they will do so with a huge armada of deathstars rather than one stupid command ship that lacks proper shielding.
True, given the fact that Na’vi seem to die so young, the capitalist armada may not return in Jordo Schell’s life time (Get it? He’s just a shell), but it will return. After all, when it comes to doing battle with beings armed with wooden sticks dipped in poison (they hadn’t even invented the arrow head; no rocks on Pandora other than upsidaisyum?) we humans know how to kick some tail.
And this is what bugged me most of all: there is no way out of war and genocide and corporate greed and human hatred of all species blue and nonhuman. No one learns anything on either side of the conflict. And the people who could possibly help both sides learn are either dead (Dr. Grace Augustine—can these names get any more obvious?) or permanently blue (Jordo Schell). At least in the Star Trek version of this plot (“The Devil in the Dark,” Original Series, aired on 3/9/67), Mr. Spock manages to broker a deal that allows the white heartless miners and their evil corporate overlords (can there be corporate overlords in a society without money where anyone can replicate anything they want for free?) to get their precious rocks without murdering all the Horta in the process. If the Na’vi can’t mind meld like Spock, couldn’t they at least hair-jack the bad guys in the ass and help them learn the value of blue:
“I am a Blue. Hath not a Blue eyes? Hath not a Blue hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? … If you prick us, do we not bleed? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?”
But nothing like this happens in Avatar. On the contrary, the bad guys go back to earth with years of homeward bound space travel during which to perfect their story about this evil, hostile, and human-hating species on Pandora that mindlessly murdered all our brave mercenaries and miners who only wanted a few stones that the evil Na'vi didn't even care about. When they get home they will rally what is left of our greenless mother-killing species, and fly back to Pandora to take our revenge in Avatar 2: The Return of the White Meanies (please note clever Beatles reference).
But I am not totally without hope. Things may get better in Avatar 3: Dead, White, and Blue when Pandora is a mining colony and the Na’vi have opened casinos, legalized prostitution (“You’ve never had tail, until you’ve had blue tail”), turned the Tree of Souls into a theme park, and have found myriad other ways to profit off of the White Man’s obsession with sex, gambling, and mindless entertainment. In fact they will have improved their lifestyle and diet sufficiently to allow themselves to live long enough to die of cancer.
So, what’s the bottom-line? Yes, Avatar was fun to watch, and the special effects were wonderful. But was it worth the 380 million dollars James Cameron spent on it, and the $10.20 that I tossed in to help him recoup his expenses? Doubt it. Is it the movie of the decade? No. Will it change movie making forever? Maybe, but who cares? Will it change anything else? No. In the end it is just a screed against capitalism offering no redemption, and promising only endless slaughter. And, given the state of our planet at the moment, it may well be prophetic—Na’vi, get it?
Thursday, December 24, 2009
My Two Christmas Jews
Tomorrow is Christmas. Two Jews very dear to my heart were born on Christmas day. The first was Jesus Christ, the second my grandfather, Moe Cohen. These two men had much in common.
To begin with they were both Jews, born of Jewish mothers. Second, neither was born with the last names Christ or Cohen. Jesus was called Christ by his followers, and my grandfather was called Cohen by the guy who stamped his papers at Ellis Island. Third, neither of them was born on December 25th. Jesus’ followers chose that date to co-opt the Roman festival Saturnalia that ended on the 23rd or 25th of December. My grandfather didn’t know his birthday, and chose December 25th when asked for date of birth by the guy who gave him the name “Cohen” at Ellis Island. Fourth, Jesus was a carpenter, and my grandfather worked with wood in his garage. Fifth, each of these men had crosses to bear: Jesus’ cross was the wood of crucifixion, my grandfather’s cross was, I suspect, my grandmother.
That is where the parallels between these two Jews end. I love them both, and I think it is sad that there are so few people who will remember the latter tomorrow. I don’t think my grandfather would be interested in having people go to church on his birthday, or giving one another presents. I think he would have preferred us to stay home, read the paper, and smoke a good cigar. I plan to do just that, sans cigar. And I will think of him, and call his daughter who happens also to be my mother, and that will have to do.
Thinking of Moe fills me with gratitude. He was a warm and loving grandfather whose two favorite phrases were, “What are you doing?” and “What are you doing it for?” These are questions I continue to ask. Jesus, too, is famous for his questions, most notably, “Who do they say I am?” and “Who do you say I am?”
All four of these questions are koans, questions demanding existential responses that reveal one’s true nature in the moment. What am I doing? Most of the time I have no idea. And for what purpose? This, too, is a mystery to me. As for Who do they say I am? the answer today is clear: The only begotten Son of God. But the question Who do you say I am? is the more revealing. For me the answer is, a fully God-realized sage offering me a way to become the same.
Tonight I will think about these two Jews. Tomorrow I will dedicate my walking meditation to them both, and use their questions as part of my meditation practice. I invite you to do the same.
Merry Christmas.
To begin with they were both Jews, born of Jewish mothers. Second, neither was born with the last names Christ or Cohen. Jesus was called Christ by his followers, and my grandfather was called Cohen by the guy who stamped his papers at Ellis Island. Third, neither of them was born on December 25th. Jesus’ followers chose that date to co-opt the Roman festival Saturnalia that ended on the 23rd or 25th of December. My grandfather didn’t know his birthday, and chose December 25th when asked for date of birth by the guy who gave him the name “Cohen” at Ellis Island. Fourth, Jesus was a carpenter, and my grandfather worked with wood in his garage. Fifth, each of these men had crosses to bear: Jesus’ cross was the wood of crucifixion, my grandfather’s cross was, I suspect, my grandmother.
That is where the parallels between these two Jews end. I love them both, and I think it is sad that there are so few people who will remember the latter tomorrow. I don’t think my grandfather would be interested in having people go to church on his birthday, or giving one another presents. I think he would have preferred us to stay home, read the paper, and smoke a good cigar. I plan to do just that, sans cigar. And I will think of him, and call his daughter who happens also to be my mother, and that will have to do.
Thinking of Moe fills me with gratitude. He was a warm and loving grandfather whose two favorite phrases were, “What are you doing?” and “What are you doing it for?” These are questions I continue to ask. Jesus, too, is famous for his questions, most notably, “Who do they say I am?” and “Who do you say I am?”
All four of these questions are koans, questions demanding existential responses that reveal one’s true nature in the moment. What am I doing? Most of the time I have no idea. And for what purpose? This, too, is a mystery to me. As for Who do they say I am? the answer today is clear: The only begotten Son of God. But the question Who do you say I am? is the more revealing. For me the answer is, a fully God-realized sage offering me a way to become the same.
Tonight I will think about these two Jews. Tomorrow I will dedicate my walking meditation to them both, and use their questions as part of my meditation practice. I invite you to do the same.
Merry Christmas.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Joining My Enemies
The good people of the “God Hates Fags” movement have expanded their hate-filled rhetoric to include Jews. The Westboro Baptist Church, famous for its hatred of gays, and picketing the funerals of fallen soldiers, is now picketing synagogues with signs that read, “God Hates Israel,” “The Jews Killed Jesus,” and “God Hates Jews.”
How do we respond to these people? Some Jewish leaders suggest we ignore them. Others suggest that we fight them. I suggest we join them.
If ever these folks come to Murfreesboro, my plan is to rally the ten Jews of my town and join with the Westboro Baptists picketing against us. Seriously. I’m planning to print huge signs that read, “Killing Messiahs; It’s What We Do,” “God Hates Israel; God Loves Ahmadinejad,” “God Hates Jews, God Loves Hitler,” “God Hates Jews, That’s Why He Let His Son Die.”
My signs would dwarf the puny handheld signs of the Baptists. True, my sarcasm would be lost on the Baptists of Westboro, but I am not trying to change their minds at all. You can’t change these people. You can’t shame them. And you can’t kill them. So join them.
(I am hoping there is another option. I just can’t think of it. Please help me out.)
How do we respond to these people? Some Jewish leaders suggest we ignore them. Others suggest that we fight them. I suggest we join them.
If ever these folks come to Murfreesboro, my plan is to rally the ten Jews of my town and join with the Westboro Baptists picketing against us. Seriously. I’m planning to print huge signs that read, “Killing Messiahs; It’s What We Do,” “God Hates Israel; God Loves Ahmadinejad,” “God Hates Jews, God Loves Hitler,” “God Hates Jews, That’s Why He Let His Son Die.”
My signs would dwarf the puny handheld signs of the Baptists. True, my sarcasm would be lost on the Baptists of Westboro, but I am not trying to change their minds at all. You can’t change these people. You can’t shame them. And you can’t kill them. So join them.
(I am hoping there is another option. I just can’t think of it. Please help me out.)
Sunday, December 20, 2009
New Proverbs
For the past few days the phrase “Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good” has been bandied about as if it were the heart of great policy making. The context is usually health care reform: “True, the bill isn’t what we progressives wanted, but let’s not let the perfect be the enemy of the good. Let’s pass this bill and make it better over time.”
That may be a wise strategy, but the phrase “Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good” bothers me.
First of all, why assume that the bill is good? What if the bill is bad? What if it is, as it appears to be, a handout to the insurance companies, forcing 30 to 40 million Americans to buy private health insurance without controlling prices or cost. What if it will up the cost to the elderly, and, because the price of health care insurance is so high and getting higher, burden future generations with greater and greater deficits needed to subsidize those who cannot afford the exorbitant prices insurances companies will charge?
If these are indeed facts, then the bill isn’t good, and the phrase “Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good” doesn’t apply. On the contrary, maybe the appropriate proverb is this: “Don’t let the worse be the enemy of the bad.” This seems to be what the Republicans are espousing: Yes, health care is bad, but this bill only makes matters worse.
I’m not saying that is true, only that that is what I am hearing from Republicans.
Then there is Governor Dean’s proverb, “Don’t let the bad be the enemy of the better.” He wants to scuttle the bill and push true reform through the inaptly named process of reconciliation. There is no reconciliation in the process of reconciliation. There is simply a majority imposing its will on the rest of the Congress. You know, majority rules. That used to mean something in America, the Electoral College aside.
If we went this route we wouldn’t have to kiss the butts of individual senators like Joe Lieberman and Ben Nelson. Lieberman got what he wanted: he killed any threat to his overlords at the Connecticut-based insurance companies. Nelson managed to secure not only the life of the unborn, but free Medicaid for the poor of Nebraska who are or will be born, and will be forced onto Medicaid. He won because we are letting the minority (in this case one guy) be the enemy of the majority.
In the end I doubt we will get any real reform of health care, but we did get a few new proverbs, and that is something. Isn’t it?
That may be a wise strategy, but the phrase “Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good” bothers me.
First of all, why assume that the bill is good? What if the bill is bad? What if it is, as it appears to be, a handout to the insurance companies, forcing 30 to 40 million Americans to buy private health insurance without controlling prices or cost. What if it will up the cost to the elderly, and, because the price of health care insurance is so high and getting higher, burden future generations with greater and greater deficits needed to subsidize those who cannot afford the exorbitant prices insurances companies will charge?
If these are indeed facts, then the bill isn’t good, and the phrase “Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good” doesn’t apply. On the contrary, maybe the appropriate proverb is this: “Don’t let the worse be the enemy of the bad.” This seems to be what the Republicans are espousing: Yes, health care is bad, but this bill only makes matters worse.
I’m not saying that is true, only that that is what I am hearing from Republicans.
Then there is Governor Dean’s proverb, “Don’t let the bad be the enemy of the better.” He wants to scuttle the bill and push true reform through the inaptly named process of reconciliation. There is no reconciliation in the process of reconciliation. There is simply a majority imposing its will on the rest of the Congress. You know, majority rules. That used to mean something in America, the Electoral College aside.
If we went this route we wouldn’t have to kiss the butts of individual senators like Joe Lieberman and Ben Nelson. Lieberman got what he wanted: he killed any threat to his overlords at the Connecticut-based insurance companies. Nelson managed to secure not only the life of the unborn, but free Medicaid for the poor of Nebraska who are or will be born, and will be forced onto Medicaid. He won because we are letting the minority (in this case one guy) be the enemy of the majority.
In the end I doubt we will get any real reform of health care, but we did get a few new proverbs, and that is something. Isn’t it?
Friday, December 18, 2009
Surviving Climate Change
I’ve been following the climate conference in Copenhagen this week, and have come to the following conclusion: we’re screwed. The planet isn’t doomed, of course, but human civilization as we know it is. And by “we” I mean middle class Americans. The homeless children of India living on garbage heaps probably won’t notice any major change in lifestyle.
Given the fact that no one with the power to improve the climate of planet earth actually wants to do so, you have to ask yourself one question: what can I do to survive? Here are my suggestions: 1. Move north; way north. 2. Buy guns; lots of guns. 3. Learn to love beef jerky. Of course we all can’t move north so you will have to do this secretly. I suggest painting the roof of your current home white to give your neighbors the impression that you are planning to stay and fight global warming. While they watch the paint dry, slip out the back and move north.
This solution isn’t perfect, however. Even if you are among the first to homestead what used to be the frozen tundra but which will soon have the climate of South Florida, others will not be far behind. And they may be better armed. The fact is only those with the cash to hire their own private armies will survive the coming disaster. Seriously. If I had the cash I would hire the mercenaries formally known as Blackwater and take over Sarah Palin’s house.
But there is another way out (besides of course actually changing the way we live). Astronomers have discovered a “super earth,” a planet with air and water orbiting a nearby red-dwarf star. True, using the term “red-dwarf” isn’t politically correct, but we can deal with that later. The planet, called GJ1214b, is uninhabited. I am sure of this because the name of the planet is GJ1214b, and no one who actually lived there would give it such a stupid name, so we can be pretty certain that no one lives there. Yet.
And that is my point. I’m moving to GJ1214b. The plant is about 247 trillion miles from my house in Tennessee, and that does present me with somewhat of a hurdle. But I am planning on talking to Richard Branson of Virgin about building a spaceship that will make the journey in less than 42 light-years. True I might not last the entire trip but perhaps my great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great children might.
And there is also the problem that the atmosphere if GJ1214b can get as hot as 250F, but this is still cooler than what is going to happen to planet earth, at least if my math is right.
So, short term: hire an army and move north. Long term, build a space ship and colonize GJ1214b.
Ah, the audacity of hope.
Given the fact that no one with the power to improve the climate of planet earth actually wants to do so, you have to ask yourself one question: what can I do to survive? Here are my suggestions: 1. Move north; way north. 2. Buy guns; lots of guns. 3. Learn to love beef jerky. Of course we all can’t move north so you will have to do this secretly. I suggest painting the roof of your current home white to give your neighbors the impression that you are planning to stay and fight global warming. While they watch the paint dry, slip out the back and move north.
This solution isn’t perfect, however. Even if you are among the first to homestead what used to be the frozen tundra but which will soon have the climate of South Florida, others will not be far behind. And they may be better armed. The fact is only those with the cash to hire their own private armies will survive the coming disaster. Seriously. If I had the cash I would hire the mercenaries formally known as Blackwater and take over Sarah Palin’s house.
But there is another way out (besides of course actually changing the way we live). Astronomers have discovered a “super earth,” a planet with air and water orbiting a nearby red-dwarf star. True, using the term “red-dwarf” isn’t politically correct, but we can deal with that later. The planet, called GJ1214b, is uninhabited. I am sure of this because the name of the planet is GJ1214b, and no one who actually lived there would give it such a stupid name, so we can be pretty certain that no one lives there. Yet.
And that is my point. I’m moving to GJ1214b. The plant is about 247 trillion miles from my house in Tennessee, and that does present me with somewhat of a hurdle. But I am planning on talking to Richard Branson of Virgin about building a spaceship that will make the journey in less than 42 light-years. True I might not last the entire trip but perhaps my great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great children might.
And there is also the problem that the atmosphere if GJ1214b can get as hot as 250F, but this is still cooler than what is going to happen to planet earth, at least if my math is right.
So, short term: hire an army and move north. Long term, build a space ship and colonize GJ1214b.
Ah, the audacity of hope.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Unto Death Do Us Part
Gal Ben-David, a 13-year-old Spanish boy died this past Sunday of a brain tumor. He was to be buried in the main section of Madrid’s Jewish Cemetery. Despite the fact that Gal lived as a Jew, and attended a Jewish day-school, it was the ruling of the Sephardi Chief Rabbi Shlomo Amar that Mr. Ben-David was in fact not Jewish. Why? Because he converted to Judaism under the auspices of the Conservative Movement, a denomination of Judaism that Rabbi Amar rejects as illegitimate.
This is not new or unusual in communities dominated by Orthodox Judaism. Rabbi Amar is not being mean or acting in any way contrary to Jewish law. He is standing up for the one true Judaism as he perceives it—his. While I am saddened and embarrassed by the story, and while I feel great sympathy for the parents of Mr. Ben-David there is no blame to be assigned here.
Expecting Orthodox Jewish leaders to accept other Judaisms as equal to their own would be like expecting Southern Baptist leaders to accept the Pope, or Muslim leaders to welcome Baha’u’llah as a legitimate prophet of God, or Buddhists to worship Krishna. Religions have their limits and must play by their own rules. If this leaves a 13-year-old boy to be buried outside the main section of the Jewish cemetery, that is just part of the game.
So what should one do in this instance? My suggestion is simple enough—stop playing the game. Obviously when it comes to matters of identity and death Orthodox Judaism trumps Conservative Judaism at least in Spain. But who wants to play this game of “Who Is a Jew?” If someone tells me she is Jewish, I don’t question the matter. And if she dies right after telling me she is Jewish she can be buried in the Jewish cemetery if that was her wish or the wish of her family. Who cares? She’s dead!
I can see how, among the living, one might not want to pollute your neighborhood with someone of a different socio-economic, religious, racial, or ethnic group. We call that bigotry. It is part of human nature, and one of the reasons humans are so prone to following demagogues and committing genocides. But a dead body is going to decompose eventually, and dust is dust, so why freak out over who moves into the dead neighborhood? Are we afraid that it will lower the property values? Are we nervous that a liberal Jew or even a Gentile buried next to an Orthodox Jew might convince the latter to abandon the faith? It seems to me that death ought to be the great leveler. Death is death and grief is grief, and to pretend otherwise is to deny our humanity. Which is what religion so often does. Which is why I say, stop playing. Whenever your religion contradicts your humanity, reject the religion.
There should be only one criterion for being buried in a cemetery—you have to be dead. Maybe this is why Jesus said, “Let the dead bury the dead.” The living have yet to learn how.
This is not new or unusual in communities dominated by Orthodox Judaism. Rabbi Amar is not being mean or acting in any way contrary to Jewish law. He is standing up for the one true Judaism as he perceives it—his. While I am saddened and embarrassed by the story, and while I feel great sympathy for the parents of Mr. Ben-David there is no blame to be assigned here.
Expecting Orthodox Jewish leaders to accept other Judaisms as equal to their own would be like expecting Southern Baptist leaders to accept the Pope, or Muslim leaders to welcome Baha’u’llah as a legitimate prophet of God, or Buddhists to worship Krishna. Religions have their limits and must play by their own rules. If this leaves a 13-year-old boy to be buried outside the main section of the Jewish cemetery, that is just part of the game.
So what should one do in this instance? My suggestion is simple enough—stop playing the game. Obviously when it comes to matters of identity and death Orthodox Judaism trumps Conservative Judaism at least in Spain. But who wants to play this game of “Who Is a Jew?” If someone tells me she is Jewish, I don’t question the matter. And if she dies right after telling me she is Jewish she can be buried in the Jewish cemetery if that was her wish or the wish of her family. Who cares? She’s dead!
I can see how, among the living, one might not want to pollute your neighborhood with someone of a different socio-economic, religious, racial, or ethnic group. We call that bigotry. It is part of human nature, and one of the reasons humans are so prone to following demagogues and committing genocides. But a dead body is going to decompose eventually, and dust is dust, so why freak out over who moves into the dead neighborhood? Are we afraid that it will lower the property values? Are we nervous that a liberal Jew or even a Gentile buried next to an Orthodox Jew might convince the latter to abandon the faith? It seems to me that death ought to be the great leveler. Death is death and grief is grief, and to pretend otherwise is to deny our humanity. Which is what religion so often does. Which is why I say, stop playing. Whenever your religion contradicts your humanity, reject the religion.
There should be only one criterion for being buried in a cemetery—you have to be dead. Maybe this is why Jesus said, “Let the dead bury the dead.” The living have yet to learn how.
Monday, December 14, 2009
How Do You Define What Is Good?
Can you be good without God? This question is once again making the rounds with the recent publication of Greg Epstein’s new book, Good Without God. As Humanist Chaplain at Harvard, Chaplain Epstein’s book is a thoughtful and positive assessment of the fact that of course people can be good without God.
To me this is the wrong question. To me the question is what is good and how do we know it is good? That is to say is something good because it is good (which begs the question “What is good?”) or is it good because God says it is good (which begs the question “Which God are we taking about?)?
The Jewish God said it was good to commit genocide against many of ancient Israel’s enemies, and continues to sanction violence against those inconvenient people who refuse to recognize God’s Chosen’s right to God’s Promised Land. The Christian God said it was good to slaughter Jews, burn witches, go on Crusades, and condemn differently believing persons to eternal torment in Hell. The Muslim God says it is good to murder those considered the enemies of Islam (even if they are fellow Muslims). So saying we need God to be good doesn’t tell us much about either God or goodness.
Of course you might say to yourself, “My God doesn’t sanction those things at all.” And that is my point. Your God might not, but another’s God might. Which God is the real God? Which good is the real good?
And being an atheist is no guarantee of goodness either. While I don’t know a single atheist who would kill or oppress in the name of God, there is no doubt that they can do so for other reasons.
The fact is, believing or not believing in this or that God is irrelevant to defining what is good. And the question of belief distracts us from the question, What is good?
If I had to point to a single text to define my sense of global goodness I would point to the UN’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights. I like this document not because it is divinely revealed (it isn’t), or because it is reasoned flawlessly, but because it agrees with my sense of right and wrong. When it comes down to it, I have to define good for myself.
This doesn’t make me happy. I would rather rely on God or at least on people smarter than me. But I can’t. Much of what God says in the world’s religions I find insane and immoral. The only time I find God on the right side of an issue is when God agrees with me. The same is true of what smart people say. I like what they say if what they say agrees with what I say; otherwise, I reject it.
Does it all come down to us as individuals? Is there nothing but our own opinion? How do you define what’s good?
To me this is the wrong question. To me the question is what is good and how do we know it is good? That is to say is something good because it is good (which begs the question “What is good?”) or is it good because God says it is good (which begs the question “Which God are we taking about?)?
The Jewish God said it was good to commit genocide against many of ancient Israel’s enemies, and continues to sanction violence against those inconvenient people who refuse to recognize God’s Chosen’s right to God’s Promised Land. The Christian God said it was good to slaughter Jews, burn witches, go on Crusades, and condemn differently believing persons to eternal torment in Hell. The Muslim God says it is good to murder those considered the enemies of Islam (even if they are fellow Muslims). So saying we need God to be good doesn’t tell us much about either God or goodness.
Of course you might say to yourself, “My God doesn’t sanction those things at all.” And that is my point. Your God might not, but another’s God might. Which God is the real God? Which good is the real good?
And being an atheist is no guarantee of goodness either. While I don’t know a single atheist who would kill or oppress in the name of God, there is no doubt that they can do so for other reasons.
The fact is, believing or not believing in this or that God is irrelevant to defining what is good. And the question of belief distracts us from the question, What is good?
If I had to point to a single text to define my sense of global goodness I would point to the UN’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights. I like this document not because it is divinely revealed (it isn’t), or because it is reasoned flawlessly, but because it agrees with my sense of right and wrong. When it comes down to it, I have to define good for myself.
This doesn’t make me happy. I would rather rely on God or at least on people smarter than me. But I can’t. Much of what God says in the world’s religions I find insane and immoral. The only time I find God on the right side of an issue is when God agrees with me. The same is true of what smart people say. I like what they say if what they say agrees with what I say; otherwise, I reject it.
Does it all come down to us as individuals? Is there nothing but our own opinion? How do you define what’s good?
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Syncretism is on the Rise
Syncretism is on the rise. Or so says a new Pew Forum survey on Religion and Public Life released yesterday. According to USA TODAY, syncretism is the “mashing up of contradictory beliefs.” This is like a person taking some ideas from Judaism, and others from Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Taoism, Hinduism, the Romantics, the Transcendentalists, the Existentialists, Science, the Matrix, Star Wars, and Star Trek, and mixing them all together to create a personal sense of wonder, meaning, and purpose.
Oh. That “person” would be me.
Religious leaders are not happy with mashing. Albert Mohler, President of the Southern Baptist Seminary in Louisville, said in the USA TODAY piece, “This is a failure of the pulpit as much as of the pew to be clear about what is and is not compatible with Christianity and belief in salvation only through Christ.”
I can imagine any number of clergy from any number of religions agreeing in principle with Dr. Mohler. Clergy work hard to define what is in and what is out of their respective religions, and syncretism undermines all that effort. What is worse it undermines the exclusivist theology behind it.
For most people salvation means getting your name on Heaven’s Guest List, and for exclusivists that list is restricted to people who believe as they believe. But it is hard to live in an open, democratic, pluralistic society and cling to the notion of exclusivist salvation. Like it or not, more and more people are adopting the Jewish view of salvation: all good people get to go to Heaven regardless of their beliefs or lack thereof. While Judaism may be vague about what Heaven is, and most Jews may be doubtful that it is at all, we all agree that good deeds rather than right belief is the key to entry.
But if that is true, then why stick to one understanding of God and religion at all? Why not learn about other faiths? Why not test out other practices? Why not customize your spiritual life the way you customize your Facebook page?
Once these questions are asked seriously, exclusivist religious claims fall away. If deeds not creeds is the way to God and salvation, and we can pretty much agree on what deeds are good and what deeds are evil (loving your neighbor—good; killing your neighbor—bad; the jury is still out on dancing, cheeseburgers, and zippers), why worry about creeds at all?
I love the emerging syncretism. I don’t see it as a mashing up of differences; I see it as an exploration of possibilities. True, around one fifth of Americans believe in astrology and the evil eye, but around the same number believes that a Kenyan is President of the United States.
I see syncretism as a first step in moving beyond religion toward spiritual practice. Eventually we will realize that God is unknowable, so creed is untenable. What matters is how compassionate and just we are. Those religious ideas and practices that enhance or capacity for compassion and justice will become part of our lives, regardless of the religion from which they come. And to that I say, Amen.
Oh. That “person” would be me.
Religious leaders are not happy with mashing. Albert Mohler, President of the Southern Baptist Seminary in Louisville, said in the USA TODAY piece, “This is a failure of the pulpit as much as of the pew to be clear about what is and is not compatible with Christianity and belief in salvation only through Christ.”
I can imagine any number of clergy from any number of religions agreeing in principle with Dr. Mohler. Clergy work hard to define what is in and what is out of their respective religions, and syncretism undermines all that effort. What is worse it undermines the exclusivist theology behind it.
For most people salvation means getting your name on Heaven’s Guest List, and for exclusivists that list is restricted to people who believe as they believe. But it is hard to live in an open, democratic, pluralistic society and cling to the notion of exclusivist salvation. Like it or not, more and more people are adopting the Jewish view of salvation: all good people get to go to Heaven regardless of their beliefs or lack thereof. While Judaism may be vague about what Heaven is, and most Jews may be doubtful that it is at all, we all agree that good deeds rather than right belief is the key to entry.
But if that is true, then why stick to one understanding of God and religion at all? Why not learn about other faiths? Why not test out other practices? Why not customize your spiritual life the way you customize your Facebook page?
Once these questions are asked seriously, exclusivist religious claims fall away. If deeds not creeds is the way to God and salvation, and we can pretty much agree on what deeds are good and what deeds are evil (loving your neighbor—good; killing your neighbor—bad; the jury is still out on dancing, cheeseburgers, and zippers), why worry about creeds at all?
I love the emerging syncretism. I don’t see it as a mashing up of differences; I see it as an exploration of possibilities. True, around one fifth of Americans believe in astrology and the evil eye, but around the same number believes that a Kenyan is President of the United States.
I see syncretism as a first step in moving beyond religion toward spiritual practice. Eventually we will realize that God is unknowable, so creed is untenable. What matters is how compassionate and just we are. Those religious ideas and practices that enhance or capacity for compassion and justice will become part of our lives, regardless of the religion from which they come. And to that I say, Amen.
Monday, December 07, 2009
My Religion is Love
Judaism is about love or it doesn’t mean shit. It's that simple.
All the usual talk about tribal loyalty, cultural diversity, God, Torah, Promised Land, and Chosen People, is irrelevant if Judaism doesn’t make us more loving. Does it really matter if Jews marry Jews and raise Jewish kids if being Jewish is just about Jews marrying Jews and raising Jewish kids?
Judaism does matter, of course, but not in any self-referential way. Judaism matters for the only reason any religion matters: it makes us more loving. Or it should.
Here is my guiding principle for determining whether or not to engage in any specific Jewish practice: will it enhance my capacity to love? If it will, I should do it. If it won’t, I should move on to something that will.
Your answer to this question will differ from mine. The only agreement I am looking for is that love is what matters: love of God (Deuteronomy 6:5), love of neighbor (Leviticus 19:18), and love of stranger (Leviticus 19:26). How you define God, neighbor, and stranger is also up for discussion. Discussion is what we Jews are all about: argument, doubt, debate, wrestling. And if this argument is for the sake of heaven, that is for the sake of love, it is precious to me. If it is for the sake of tribe and brand, it is a waste of time to me.
Of course I will have to define love. Let me offer this as a tentative definition: love is the capacity to feel another’s pain without guilt, share in another’s joy without envy, and work with others to uplift the fallen, free the wrongly imprisoned, etc. If I need a slogan for my Judaism I would borrow the bumper sticker the Prophet Micah might have stuck on the rump of his donkey: "Do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God" (Micah 6:8).
You might object at this point, “Why bother coming up with Jewish ways of becoming more loving? Why not just be more loving? Why stick with Judaism?”
I suspect that in my case Judaism is so ingrained that I cannot walk away. I keep coming back to make it work for me the same way I keep coming back to Levis jeans after flirting with New Religion: I find them comforting.
With love as my criteria, I can now answer people who ask me, “How do you know your religion is true?” Truth isn’t the issue, love is. I don’t care if a religion is true; I care if it makes its adherents more loving.
My religion is love. My method is Judaism as I define it for myself. Won’t this weaken community if we each define Judaism for ourselves? Maybe, but who cares? My goal is love not branded community. If I am loving, I will find others who are the same. Love will be our bond, and we will welcome any brand that serves it.
All the usual talk about tribal loyalty, cultural diversity, God, Torah, Promised Land, and Chosen People, is irrelevant if Judaism doesn’t make us more loving. Does it really matter if Jews marry Jews and raise Jewish kids if being Jewish is just about Jews marrying Jews and raising Jewish kids?
Judaism does matter, of course, but not in any self-referential way. Judaism matters for the only reason any religion matters: it makes us more loving. Or it should.
Here is my guiding principle for determining whether or not to engage in any specific Jewish practice: will it enhance my capacity to love? If it will, I should do it. If it won’t, I should move on to something that will.
Your answer to this question will differ from mine. The only agreement I am looking for is that love is what matters: love of God (Deuteronomy 6:5), love of neighbor (Leviticus 19:18), and love of stranger (Leviticus 19:26). How you define God, neighbor, and stranger is also up for discussion. Discussion is what we Jews are all about: argument, doubt, debate, wrestling. And if this argument is for the sake of heaven, that is for the sake of love, it is precious to me. If it is for the sake of tribe and brand, it is a waste of time to me.
Of course I will have to define love. Let me offer this as a tentative definition: love is the capacity to feel another’s pain without guilt, share in another’s joy without envy, and work with others to uplift the fallen, free the wrongly imprisoned, etc. If I need a slogan for my Judaism I would borrow the bumper sticker the Prophet Micah might have stuck on the rump of his donkey: "Do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God" (Micah 6:8).
You might object at this point, “Why bother coming up with Jewish ways of becoming more loving? Why not just be more loving? Why stick with Judaism?”
I suspect that in my case Judaism is so ingrained that I cannot walk away. I keep coming back to make it work for me the same way I keep coming back to Levis jeans after flirting with New Religion: I find them comforting.
With love as my criteria, I can now answer people who ask me, “How do you know your religion is true?” Truth isn’t the issue, love is. I don’t care if a religion is true; I care if it makes its adherents more loving.
My religion is love. My method is Judaism as I define it for myself. Won’t this weaken community if we each define Judaism for ourselves? Maybe, but who cares? My goal is love not branded community. If I am loving, I will find others who are the same. Love will be our bond, and we will welcome any brand that serves it.
Sunday, December 06, 2009
Unstemming Stem Cell Research
After having slammed the Obama administration for its environmental, financial, and military policies, it is only fair that I celebrate the President’s administration when it does something right. Or, to be more blunt, when it does something with which I agree. So it was with great joy that I read that Francis Collins, Obama’s director of the National Institutes of Health, has approved federal funded research on thirteen new lines of stem cells. And, as Director Collins noted, this is only the beginning.
In August of 2001, then President George Bush limited research to the 21 stem cell lines already being studied. President Obama vowed to change this, and he has. The number of new lines may well grow into the hundreds, and the potential to radically cure disease is huge.
Resistance to embryonic stem cell research comes from those who imagine embryonic cells to be persons, and hence experimenting on them is immoral. President Obama has dealt with this issue by getting informed consent from stem cell donors. This is tricky. If an embryonic stem cell is somehow a person, can another person determine its fate in this way?
This is the anti-abortion argument: If a zygote (and later a fetus) is a person, what right does even the mother have to kill it? The answer, with the possible exception of saving the mother’s life, is none. The only way to counter this argument is to argue that a zygote or fetus is not a person, and the mother has the right to determine its fate just as she does to determine the fate of her heart, lungs, liver, and kidneys.
The question is this, When does human life become a human person. When asked this question in a televised interview with Pastor Rick Warren, then candidate Obama avoided the question by saying the answer was “above his pay grade.” Of he was right. The emergence of personhood is a theological question, not a political one. Yet when religion (questing into the unknown) devolves into doctrine (adherence to the officially known), as it has in our day, religion becomes politicized.
Not surprisingly the U.S. Conference of Bishops opposes President Obama’s move to liberate science and medicine from the censorship of certain kinds of believers, but they are not opposed to all research, promoting the use of induced stem cells instead of embryonic stem cells. Under Obama and Dr. Collins both types of stem cells will be used, and the science will determine which is more valuable to humankind.
This is the kind of progressive action our country needs. And, in the not too long run, this is the kind of health care reform that will actually transform the wellness of human beings. Thank you Mr. President.
In August of 2001, then President George Bush limited research to the 21 stem cell lines already being studied. President Obama vowed to change this, and he has. The number of new lines may well grow into the hundreds, and the potential to radically cure disease is huge.
Resistance to embryonic stem cell research comes from those who imagine embryonic cells to be persons, and hence experimenting on them is immoral. President Obama has dealt with this issue by getting informed consent from stem cell donors. This is tricky. If an embryonic stem cell is somehow a person, can another person determine its fate in this way?
This is the anti-abortion argument: If a zygote (and later a fetus) is a person, what right does even the mother have to kill it? The answer, with the possible exception of saving the mother’s life, is none. The only way to counter this argument is to argue that a zygote or fetus is not a person, and the mother has the right to determine its fate just as she does to determine the fate of her heart, lungs, liver, and kidneys.
The question is this, When does human life become a human person. When asked this question in a televised interview with Pastor Rick Warren, then candidate Obama avoided the question by saying the answer was “above his pay grade.” Of he was right. The emergence of personhood is a theological question, not a political one. Yet when religion (questing into the unknown) devolves into doctrine (adherence to the officially known), as it has in our day, religion becomes politicized.
Not surprisingly the U.S. Conference of Bishops opposes President Obama’s move to liberate science and medicine from the censorship of certain kinds of believers, but they are not opposed to all research, promoting the use of induced stem cells instead of embryonic stem cells. Under Obama and Dr. Collins both types of stem cells will be used, and the science will determine which is more valuable to humankind.
This is the kind of progressive action our country needs. And, in the not too long run, this is the kind of health care reform that will actually transform the wellness of human beings. Thank you Mr. President.
Thursday, December 03, 2009
Pay It Forward
Finally some good news from Iraq. News we can use. By “we” I mean Jews, and by “use” I mean apply to our own situation. What is this news? Iraqi Vice President Tariq al-Hashemi is paying couples to intermarry as a way of stemming sectarian violence in Iraq. Intermarrying couples are wed in a group ceremony. The government provides dresses for the brides, and suits for the grooms. Each couple receives a free night in an Iraqi hotel (something superior to the Iraqi version of Motel Six where the motto is, “We’ll keep the fuse lit for you”) plus a check for $2000 US. The Vice President’s hope is that these married couples will make love not war, and bring their extended families along with them. Personally I think this is a brilliant idea, and one we Jews can learn from.
Why not pay Israelis to marry Palestinians? Yes, I realize they are from different faiths, but most Israelis are secularists as are many Palestinians. We could pay for intermarriage between Israeli and Palestinian humanists. Sure it might cost a bit more than it does in Iraq, but what doesn’t? And, if the idea catches on, it will prove far cheaper to birth hybrid babies than it is to enforce ethnic purity.
Of course we could use Tariq al-Hashemi’s idea in reverse. We could pay Jews and Gentiles in the United States not to marry one another. This might be a bit more difficult to pull off. But we could offer a sign-up bonus for every Jew who marries another Jew. And then we could pay the couple to have or adopt babies. We could set a base level for birth and adoption, and then add a bonus for bar and bat mitzvah. And if these kids grow up to marry other Jews, not only will they receive the sign-up money, but their parents will get another cash gift for raising Jewish children who marry other Jews. To incentivize the system a bit more, parents whose children marry out will have to return their baby bonus money plus accrued interest. And to help prevent divorce we might also demand a similar repayment in the case of divorce.
How much cash, you might be wondering? I don’t know. The cost of the average suburban bar or bat mitzvah runs around $75,000, and that’s without Madonna singing about Kabbalah, so maybe we need to use that as our base. I imagine the total would be about $250,000 per child over the course of a lifetime. But I don’t really know, and will leave the specifics to the experts. All I’m saying is that you get what you pay for, so lets pay for what we want.
Why not pay Israelis to marry Palestinians? Yes, I realize they are from different faiths, but most Israelis are secularists as are many Palestinians. We could pay for intermarriage between Israeli and Palestinian humanists. Sure it might cost a bit more than it does in Iraq, but what doesn’t? And, if the idea catches on, it will prove far cheaper to birth hybrid babies than it is to enforce ethnic purity.
Of course we could use Tariq al-Hashemi’s idea in reverse. We could pay Jews and Gentiles in the United States not to marry one another. This might be a bit more difficult to pull off. But we could offer a sign-up bonus for every Jew who marries another Jew. And then we could pay the couple to have or adopt babies. We could set a base level for birth and adoption, and then add a bonus for bar and bat mitzvah. And if these kids grow up to marry other Jews, not only will they receive the sign-up money, but their parents will get another cash gift for raising Jewish children who marry other Jews. To incentivize the system a bit more, parents whose children marry out will have to return their baby bonus money plus accrued interest. And to help prevent divorce we might also demand a similar repayment in the case of divorce.
How much cash, you might be wondering? I don’t know. The cost of the average suburban bar or bat mitzvah runs around $75,000, and that’s without Madonna singing about Kabbalah, so maybe we need to use that as our base. I imagine the total would be about $250,000 per child over the course of a lifetime. But I don’t really know, and will leave the specifics to the experts. All I’m saying is that you get what you pay for, so lets pay for what we want.
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
A Night of Despair: My Response to President Obama's Speech on Afghanistan
I voted for Barack Obama. Happily. Hopefully. Maybe even desperately. I wanted change. I believed and continue to believe that the United States is on the wrong track morally, economically, politically, and spiritually. I believed and continue to believe that we are run by soulless corporations that feed us an endless round of distractions, scandals and crises that preoccupy us while we are bled dry. I was under no delusion that if Candidate Obama became President Obama he could change the very marrow of the nation, but I was hopeful that he would at least change the conversation. That hope has been on life support for months. Tonight it finally died.
I do not like the health care reform bill. It is a gift to the insurance companies, and does nothing to improve healthcare or reduce costs. But I could at least comfort myself with the notion that it is a step in the right direction; that once something is on the books, future politicians can work to make it better.
I did not like the bailout of Wall St. It was a gift to the very people who crashed our economy. I would have used the money to keep people in their homes, to create a Green Jobs Corps similar to the conservation program FDR created during the Depression. But I could at least comfort myself with the notion that without it things would have been much worse.
I do not like cap and trade as a means of saving the planet. It is a scam, and will do nothing to lower CO2 emissions. By the time it has any effect, if it has any effect, things will be far worse than then are now. If we want to stop global warming we have to do something bold. Read James Lovelock’s The Vanishing Face of Gaia, and Stewart Brand’s Whole Earth Discipline for ideas that make sense to me. But I could at least comfort myself with the notion that we are recognizing the problem.
I protested against the Iraq War, and hoped President Obama would end it. We are still there. When we leave, if we leave, Iraq will become a puppet of Iran, and our people will have died in vain. But I could at least comfort myself with the notion that the president is winding things down.
I supported the taking down of the Taliban and going after Al Qaeda. We did that. According to our own government there are less than 100 Al Qaeda fighters left in Afghanistan. We won. When did we decide to rid the country of the Taliban? When did we decide that the Taliban are a coherent group that can be identified and defeated? No one has been able to create an Afghanistan in their image—not Alexander the Great, or the British, or the Soviets. Why do we think we can do so? Afghanistan is not a nation, but a jumble of competing tribes and warring groups. The Karzai government has no credibility, and neither do we.
I know Candidate Obama was pro-war in Afghanistan, but I was hopeful that President Obama took all this time discussing the Afghan War because he had a change of mind. Instead he took weeks to do what John McCain would have done in twenty seconds. Did I vote for a slower version of McCain? Is this change? Is this hope?
All this will do is convince our enemies that we are the Crusaders they imagine us to be. It will further solidify the Muslim world against us. It will not make us safer. To imagine that we can train Afghani forces to take on the Taliban is absurd. One out of every four Afghan police officers is AWOL. We will be in Afghanistan for years. And then we will do what we could do today: declare victory and leave behind a mess.
If we want to worry about Taliban and the security of the United States, the problem is in Pakistan. If we want to worry about nuclear armed madmen, the threat is in Pakistan and Iran. We have real enemies out there, but occupying Afghanistan for another five to ten years does nothing to stop them, and in fact will make things worse.
I am sick over the decision of my President. I feel angry and hopeless. Voting Republican in 2010 won’t help. And voting for third parties only allows me to feel self-righteous while charade of a two-party democracy continues to mask the fact that we are no longer a democracy but an oligarchy of the rich, for the rich, by the rich.
My only hope now is in a war tax and a draft. Demand that the American people pay for this madness now. Not just the wealthy, but everyone. Maybe if we feel the financial cost of war we might bring it to a close.
And reinstitute the draft. We don’t have enough volunteers to cover the wars in which we continue to engage, let alone the ones coming up (Pakistani Taliban and Iran), so we force our soldiers to go back over and over and over again. That is wrong militarily and morally. We need more soldiers. If these wars are good for America, then make all American’s fight them. No deferments for college. No way out for the wealthy. Every able-bodied young person must go.
The only reason these wars have gone on as long as they have is that most of us could avoid paying for them directly with our dollars and the lives of our children. With a tax and a draft we are all engaged in war, and most of us will resist.
Right now most of us are like me— confused, depressed, and passive. We content ourselves watching Glenn Beck or Keith Olbermann. I fear Beck and love Olbermann, but neither is offering me a way out.
I am not sorry I voted for Barack Obama, but the hope he promised has turned to despair.
I hope he is right, and that I am wrong.
I do not like the health care reform bill. It is a gift to the insurance companies, and does nothing to improve healthcare or reduce costs. But I could at least comfort myself with the notion that it is a step in the right direction; that once something is on the books, future politicians can work to make it better.
I did not like the bailout of Wall St. It was a gift to the very people who crashed our economy. I would have used the money to keep people in their homes, to create a Green Jobs Corps similar to the conservation program FDR created during the Depression. But I could at least comfort myself with the notion that without it things would have been much worse.
I do not like cap and trade as a means of saving the planet. It is a scam, and will do nothing to lower CO2 emissions. By the time it has any effect, if it has any effect, things will be far worse than then are now. If we want to stop global warming we have to do something bold. Read James Lovelock’s The Vanishing Face of Gaia, and Stewart Brand’s Whole Earth Discipline for ideas that make sense to me. But I could at least comfort myself with the notion that we are recognizing the problem.
I protested against the Iraq War, and hoped President Obama would end it. We are still there. When we leave, if we leave, Iraq will become a puppet of Iran, and our people will have died in vain. But I could at least comfort myself with the notion that the president is winding things down.
I supported the taking down of the Taliban and going after Al Qaeda. We did that. According to our own government there are less than 100 Al Qaeda fighters left in Afghanistan. We won. When did we decide to rid the country of the Taliban? When did we decide that the Taliban are a coherent group that can be identified and defeated? No one has been able to create an Afghanistan in their image—not Alexander the Great, or the British, or the Soviets. Why do we think we can do so? Afghanistan is not a nation, but a jumble of competing tribes and warring groups. The Karzai government has no credibility, and neither do we.
I know Candidate Obama was pro-war in Afghanistan, but I was hopeful that President Obama took all this time discussing the Afghan War because he had a change of mind. Instead he took weeks to do what John McCain would have done in twenty seconds. Did I vote for a slower version of McCain? Is this change? Is this hope?
All this will do is convince our enemies that we are the Crusaders they imagine us to be. It will further solidify the Muslim world against us. It will not make us safer. To imagine that we can train Afghani forces to take on the Taliban is absurd. One out of every four Afghan police officers is AWOL. We will be in Afghanistan for years. And then we will do what we could do today: declare victory and leave behind a mess.
If we want to worry about Taliban and the security of the United States, the problem is in Pakistan. If we want to worry about nuclear armed madmen, the threat is in Pakistan and Iran. We have real enemies out there, but occupying Afghanistan for another five to ten years does nothing to stop them, and in fact will make things worse.
I am sick over the decision of my President. I feel angry and hopeless. Voting Republican in 2010 won’t help. And voting for third parties only allows me to feel self-righteous while charade of a two-party democracy continues to mask the fact that we are no longer a democracy but an oligarchy of the rich, for the rich, by the rich.
My only hope now is in a war tax and a draft. Demand that the American people pay for this madness now. Not just the wealthy, but everyone. Maybe if we feel the financial cost of war we might bring it to a close.
And reinstitute the draft. We don’t have enough volunteers to cover the wars in which we continue to engage, let alone the ones coming up (Pakistani Taliban and Iran), so we force our soldiers to go back over and over and over again. That is wrong militarily and morally. We need more soldiers. If these wars are good for America, then make all American’s fight them. No deferments for college. No way out for the wealthy. Every able-bodied young person must go.
The only reason these wars have gone on as long as they have is that most of us could avoid paying for them directly with our dollars and the lives of our children. With a tax and a draft we are all engaged in war, and most of us will resist.
Right now most of us are like me— confused, depressed, and passive. We content ourselves watching Glenn Beck or Keith Olbermann. I fear Beck and love Olbermann, but neither is offering me a way out.
I am not sorry I voted for Barack Obama, but the hope he promised has turned to despair.
I hope he is right, and that I am wrong.
Insane Logic of Ma’ale Adumim
First I have to take a deep breath. I know that if I publish this blog I am going to receive the kind of angry mail I don’t want. But if I say nothing I will hate myself. So here goes…
The November 13th edition of the Forward contains a very troubling article: “Palestinian Workers Plan To Sue Settlement, Seek To Fall Under Israeli Law.” According to the article, Palestinian workers employed by the West Bank municipality of Ma’ale Adumim, a Jewish settlement just outside Jerusalem, are suing the city and insisting that they be hired according to Israeli law rather than Jordanian law. The difference is that while the Palestinians make more than minimum wage, their benefits package is below that of Israeli workers.
The issue is purely one of financial justice. The workers want more; the city wants to pay them less. But the wild thing is the logic Ma’ale Adumim employs. According to the city’s lawyer, Gilad Rogel, “Ma’ale Adumin is not under the jurisdiction of the State of Israel—it is a settlement in the occupied territories.” The city operates under Israeli law because Israelis live there, but with regard to Palestinians it can choose to operate under another legal system, in this case that of Jordan.
In other words, Ma’ale Adumin wants to claim it is part of Israel when it benefits them and part of Jordan when it doesn’t. It also wants to discriminate against Palestinian workers. And all because of money. Has Zionism been reduced to an economic scam? Has Jewish justice been reduced to cost effectiveness? Is this what Israelis risk their lives for every day?
Let me be clear: this isn’t a uniquely Jewish or Israeli issue. The theft of people’s homes by the municipality of New London, CT at the bequest of the Pfizer Corporation in 2005 only to have Pfizer leave the city in 2009 after reneging on its plans to build a research facility near the confiscated land is the same thing—a city government driven solely by dollars. My point is simply this: Israel isn’t any different than any other state. It can claim no moral high ground. It has no special status with God. It is, just like the rest of us, out for itself.
OK, I can accept this. But when I do, I have to ask myself why I should give a shit about just one more country driven to injustice by economic concerns? I am told over and again that Israel is different, and because it is different it is worthy of my love, trust, and financial support. But is it? I just can’t see it any more. I want to. But I don’t.
This isn’t a matter of moral equivalency. I’m not comparing Israel to Palestine or any other country. I’m just saying that if the West Bank can be used as a scam to exploit Palestinian workers, I don’t want to be a part of it.
The case is going before the Israeli Supreme Court. In a similar case in 2007 the court sided with Palestinian workers. Other cities have followed the High Court’s precedent, but Ma’ale Adumin is trying to find a loophole. If they do, and the Court sides with the city, the hole they find is going to be the grave of justice.
The November 13th edition of the Forward contains a very troubling article: “Palestinian Workers Plan To Sue Settlement, Seek To Fall Under Israeli Law.” According to the article, Palestinian workers employed by the West Bank municipality of Ma’ale Adumim, a Jewish settlement just outside Jerusalem, are suing the city and insisting that they be hired according to Israeli law rather than Jordanian law. The difference is that while the Palestinians make more than minimum wage, their benefits package is below that of Israeli workers.
The issue is purely one of financial justice. The workers want more; the city wants to pay them less. But the wild thing is the logic Ma’ale Adumim employs. According to the city’s lawyer, Gilad Rogel, “Ma’ale Adumin is not under the jurisdiction of the State of Israel—it is a settlement in the occupied territories.” The city operates under Israeli law because Israelis live there, but with regard to Palestinians it can choose to operate under another legal system, in this case that of Jordan.
In other words, Ma’ale Adumin wants to claim it is part of Israel when it benefits them and part of Jordan when it doesn’t. It also wants to discriminate against Palestinian workers. And all because of money. Has Zionism been reduced to an economic scam? Has Jewish justice been reduced to cost effectiveness? Is this what Israelis risk their lives for every day?
Let me be clear: this isn’t a uniquely Jewish or Israeli issue. The theft of people’s homes by the municipality of New London, CT at the bequest of the Pfizer Corporation in 2005 only to have Pfizer leave the city in 2009 after reneging on its plans to build a research facility near the confiscated land is the same thing—a city government driven solely by dollars. My point is simply this: Israel isn’t any different than any other state. It can claim no moral high ground. It has no special status with God. It is, just like the rest of us, out for itself.
OK, I can accept this. But when I do, I have to ask myself why I should give a shit about just one more country driven to injustice by economic concerns? I am told over and again that Israel is different, and because it is different it is worthy of my love, trust, and financial support. But is it? I just can’t see it any more. I want to. But I don’t.
This isn’t a matter of moral equivalency. I’m not comparing Israel to Palestine or any other country. I’m just saying that if the West Bank can be used as a scam to exploit Palestinian workers, I don’t want to be a part of it.
The case is going before the Israeli Supreme Court. In a similar case in 2007 the court sided with Palestinian workers. Other cities have followed the High Court’s precedent, but Ma’ale Adumin is trying to find a loophole. If they do, and the Court sides with the city, the hole they find is going to be the grave of justice.
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