MASA is a campaign designed to fight assimilation among American Jews. Sponsored by the Israel based Jewish Agency, MASA’s latest Israeli television ad sought to raise funds for its programs by placing photos of young American Jews on missing-person posters with the tag line, “over 50% of Jews abroad are assimilating.” The 50% of Jews abroad who had not assimilated complained and the ad was pulled.
Obviously assimilation of Jews into the broader culture is still a sensitive issue. But pulling ads that highlight it doesn’t really do much to stop it. In fact nothing really does much to stop assimilation.
What does it mean to assimilate, anyway? Am I assimilated?
I try not to be. I have a beard, that’s Jewish. I wear Levi’s, their Jewish. I make a point of being able to pronounce the “ch” sound in Hebrew and Yiddish, and make fun of those Gentiles who can’t. I can spread my fingers in such a way as to offer the Priestly Blessing or say hello to Mr. Spock and wish him a “Live long and prosper.” And I get Jon Stewart’s Jewish jokes on the Daily Show. Is this good enough? How Jewish do I have to be?
On the other hand, I just bought the remastered Beatles collection, I read the latest Dan Brown novel (being a newly minted Master Mason myself, I wanted to see how we secretly rule the world), I like country and bluegrass music, and own a pair of cowboy boots. How goyish do I have to be?
I really don’t care about assimilation. If Jews want to be something else, that’s their right. Nor do I think that MASA’s program of schlepping young Jews to Israel to show them the Walls that define us (the Western Wall and the Separation Wall) is actually going to stem the tide of assimilation. If you want people to be Jewish, you have to make being Jewish matter.
Orthodox Judaism, for example, matters. It matters because it takes itself seriously, it believes what it says, it makes demands of its members. Unfortunately this is also why most Jews who are not Orthodox don’t choose to become Orthodox. To many Jews, Orthodox Judaism is a bit too Amish. I don’t want a Judaism that is afraid of zippers, or that makes a fetish of Canaan.
How can we liberal Jews make Judaism matter? By reclaiming its roots as a radical counter-culture. By promoting Shabbat as a global play day, free from work and consumerism. By promoting kashrut (kosher) as a way of uplifting our consuming to the highest ethical and environmental standards; forget about separating milk and meat, and promote vegetarianism instead. By promoting tzedakah as right livelihood: the just earning and use of finances. By excommunicating Jack Abramoff and Bernie Madoff.
Judaism at its best, at its coolest, is in fact unassimilatable. It is counter-culture. It is all about argument, doubt, and imagination. It is about everything that our conformist, consumerist society is not. Why not sell that to the kids?
Why not? Because most of the so-called unassimilated are really assimilated! Sure they refer to themselves as Jews, and maybe even attend synagogue once in a while, but they share the same values as the majority of Americans.
Assimilation is a nonissue. It is like dealing with a leaking bucket by adding more water rather than plugging the leak. The real challenge is imagining and then teaching a Judaism that challenges people to be something other than the middlebrow, middle-class, middle-mind self-satisfied liberals who think watching MSNBC makes them superior to those who watch FOX News. I know these people. I am these people. Come on, MASA, don’t put my picture on a milk-carton, offer me a Judaism that matters.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Courting Disaster
Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, appointed to protect the Constitution of the United States, seems to have a poor understanding of just what this Constitution says. In discussing the case of the cross erected as a war memorial on federal land in the Mojave Desert, Justice Scalia displayed a frightening sense of ignorance. When told that the cross is a Christian symbol and violates the First Amendment, Justice Scalia said that it was no such thing, adding, “The cross is the most common symbol of the resting place of the dead.”
Either Justice Scalia is stupid, or he is completely blind to the existence of other religions. I hope it is the latter, but I fear it is the former. I can deal with a Justice who is in fact a Christian Triumphalist seeking to make America into a Christian nation. Eventually he will discover that Christianity isn't monolithic, and those Christians who will be marginalized in Scalia's America will fight back alongside others (religious and secular) to put an end (albeit temporary) to such theocratic insanity.
But if Justice Scalia is simply stupid; if he doesn't understand what a cross is or what the First Amendment stands for, then we have a problem. Why? Because then he represents the majority of Americans and there is little hope for change.
When told that the cross affirms one’s belief in Jesus as Christ, and that Jews, for one, never put the cross on their graves, the justice angrily snapped, “I think that is an outrageous conclusion.” Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, appointed to protect the Constitution of the United States, seems to have a poor understanding of just what this Constitution says. In discussing the case of the cross erected as a war memorial on federal land in the Mojave Desert, Justice Scalia displayed a frightening sense of Christian triumphalism. When told that the cross is a Christian symbol and violates the First Amendment, Justice Scalia said that it was no such thing, adding, “The cross is the most common symbol of the resting place of the dead.”
When told that the cross affirms one’s belief in Jesus as Christ, and that Jews, for one, never put the cross on their graves, the justice angrily snapped, “I think that is an outrageous conclusion.” Obviously Justice Scalia only visits Christian graveyards.
Justice Scalia is on record saying that he believes it is constitutional for the United States government to favor religion, and that the First Amendment does not affirm the government's neutrality toward religion.
Needless to say nonChristians are unhappy with a Supreme Court Justice who is ignorant regarding the First Amendment, but don’t image that all Christians are happy with Justice Scalia either. “America,” a Catholic weekly magazine, accused the justice of reducing the cross "to just a couple of pieces of lumber."
It scares me that a Supreme Court Justice is so ignorant of the First Amendment, one of the truly revolutionary documents in human history, and a foundation stone of American life. Why didn't this come up at his confirmation hearing? How did a man who is so ignorant of our founding principles get to be one of nine people responsible for securing them?
It's simple: he is anti abortion and wants to do away with Roe v. Wade. That is all it takes to be a Supreme Justice in America. You can know nothing else, but if you are anti abortion you're our guy.
Day by day, news story by news story, my faith in America fades. Let us hope that a wise Latina can bring some Constitutional knowledge to the court.
Either Justice Scalia is stupid, or he is completely blind to the existence of other religions. I hope it is the latter, but I fear it is the former. I can deal with a Justice who is in fact a Christian Triumphalist seeking to make America into a Christian nation. Eventually he will discover that Christianity isn't monolithic, and those Christians who will be marginalized in Scalia's America will fight back alongside others (religious and secular) to put an end (albeit temporary) to such theocratic insanity.
But if Justice Scalia is simply stupid; if he doesn't understand what a cross is or what the First Amendment stands for, then we have a problem. Why? Because then he represents the majority of Americans and there is little hope for change.
When told that the cross affirms one’s belief in Jesus as Christ, and that Jews, for one, never put the cross on their graves, the justice angrily snapped, “I think that is an outrageous conclusion.” Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, appointed to protect the Constitution of the United States, seems to have a poor understanding of just what this Constitution says. In discussing the case of the cross erected as a war memorial on federal land in the Mojave Desert, Justice Scalia displayed a frightening sense of Christian triumphalism. When told that the cross is a Christian symbol and violates the First Amendment, Justice Scalia said that it was no such thing, adding, “The cross is the most common symbol of the resting place of the dead.”
When told that the cross affirms one’s belief in Jesus as Christ, and that Jews, for one, never put the cross on their graves, the justice angrily snapped, “I think that is an outrageous conclusion.” Obviously Justice Scalia only visits Christian graveyards.
Justice Scalia is on record saying that he believes it is constitutional for the United States government to favor religion, and that the First Amendment does not affirm the government's neutrality toward religion.
Needless to say nonChristians are unhappy with a Supreme Court Justice who is ignorant regarding the First Amendment, but don’t image that all Christians are happy with Justice Scalia either. “America,” a Catholic weekly magazine, accused the justice of reducing the cross "to just a couple of pieces of lumber."
It scares me that a Supreme Court Justice is so ignorant of the First Amendment, one of the truly revolutionary documents in human history, and a foundation stone of American life. Why didn't this come up at his confirmation hearing? How did a man who is so ignorant of our founding principles get to be one of nine people responsible for securing them?
It's simple: he is anti abortion and wants to do away with Roe v. Wade. That is all it takes to be a Supreme Justice in America. You can know nothing else, but if you are anti abortion you're our guy.
Day by day, news story by news story, my faith in America fades. Let us hope that a wise Latina can bring some Constitutional knowledge to the court.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Black Tooth Down
Soupy Sales died yesterday. He was one of the greatest Jews who ever lived. Or, to be more specific, one of the greatest Jews who ever lived in Franklinton, North Carolina. There were five Jews in Franklinton: Mr. and Mrs. Milton Supman (pronounced “soup man”) and their three sons whom they nicknamed Hambone, Chickenbone, and Soupbone (honestly). Milt owned a dry goods store and sold sheets to members of the KKK (also honestly).
I watched the Soupy Sales Show religiously. He seemed to be a true anarchist. And he loved pie. What’s not to like? Plus he had his two dogs (puppets really) White Fang and Black Tooth, the meanest and nicest dogs in America, respectively. My favorite line of the show was “Black Tooth, don’t kiss.” I use it to this day. In fact I spend most days looking for a opportunity to say, “Black Tooth, don’t kiss.” When I finally find the right moment and utter these immortal words, I get a warn feeling inside and know my day is complete. I should probably live alone.
I learned how to dance from Soupy Sales. Soupy did this odd shuffle thing that I copied. It made me stand out on the dance floor. When I realized people were just staring at me, I would say, “Black Tooth, don’t kiss.” It was a non sequitur, but I could never think of anything else to say.
Some of you know this dance move, though unlike myself you may not performed it in the last day or two. As a tribute to and in memory of Soupy Sales I invite all of you who know this dance to dance together with me today at noon Eastern Time (11 Central, 10 Mountain, 9 Pacific).
Soupy Sales is famous for lots of things, not the least among them his on-air pitch to each of the children of America to send him a dollar. Eighty thousand dollars in Monopoly money flowed in. I like to think that it was Soup Sales, a Jew, who gave Evangelical preachers the idea to go on television and ask for money. It isn’t true, of course, but I like to think that.
I like to think a lot of things. Right now I like to think of Soupy Sales, the Greatest Jew of Franklinton, NC, being graciously welcomed into Heaven by God, and having Soupy pie the Almighty in the face. With God and Soupy laughing joyously, Black Tooth runs up and licks God’s face clean while Soupy himself says, “Black Tooth, don’t kiss!”
My day is complete.
I watched the Soupy Sales Show religiously. He seemed to be a true anarchist. And he loved pie. What’s not to like? Plus he had his two dogs (puppets really) White Fang and Black Tooth, the meanest and nicest dogs in America, respectively. My favorite line of the show was “Black Tooth, don’t kiss.” I use it to this day. In fact I spend most days looking for a opportunity to say, “Black Tooth, don’t kiss.” When I finally find the right moment and utter these immortal words, I get a warn feeling inside and know my day is complete. I should probably live alone.
I learned how to dance from Soupy Sales. Soupy did this odd shuffle thing that I copied. It made me stand out on the dance floor. When I realized people were just staring at me, I would say, “Black Tooth, don’t kiss.” It was a non sequitur, but I could never think of anything else to say.
Some of you know this dance move, though unlike myself you may not performed it in the last day or two. As a tribute to and in memory of Soupy Sales I invite all of you who know this dance to dance together with me today at noon Eastern Time (11 Central, 10 Mountain, 9 Pacific).
Soupy Sales is famous for lots of things, not the least among them his on-air pitch to each of the children of America to send him a dollar. Eighty thousand dollars in Monopoly money flowed in. I like to think that it was Soup Sales, a Jew, who gave Evangelical preachers the idea to go on television and ask for money. It isn’t true, of course, but I like to think that.
I like to think a lot of things. Right now I like to think of Soupy Sales, the Greatest Jew of Franklinton, NC, being graciously welcomed into Heaven by God, and having Soupy pie the Almighty in the face. With God and Soupy laughing joyously, Black Tooth runs up and licks God’s face clean while Soupy himself says, “Black Tooth, don’t kiss!”
My day is complete.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Boredom. The Newest Crisis?
Boredom is the newest crisis facing our country today. I just read this in a book catalog promoting a new book on religion and boredom. At first I was inclined to dismiss the notion. Left to my own devices, I’m never bored. I find life infinitely fascinating. I read constantly, and write daily, and love to think about things and listen to smart people talk about things. I don’t get boredom. But on further consideration I have to admit that when it comes to organized religion, especially religious services, I am bored out of my mind.
Jewish liturgical yoga—the incessant standing up and sitting down during our services— bores me. We should do one or the other. I prefer sitting in a chair that offers true ergonomic support so that I can comfortably slip into a meditative state. Few churches or synagogues provide that. I wonder if we should build sanctuaries with Back Saver chairs in them. Probably not: it would make it too easy to fall asleep during the service. Maybe that is why we keep jumping up and down—it keeps us from falling asleep.
Most liturgies bore me. The language is flat and the reading is flat and the content is flat and it leaves me, well… flat. We never say anything that excites me. Either we are reading something so trite that I can’t affirm it with any enthusiasm, or something so inane that I can’t even be bothered to argue against it. Take the idea that God is the Lord of Hosts, for example. What is that? I imagine God presiding over a Toastmasters-like gathering of hosts and hostesses. Is the best we can do in a democratic country: reduce the King of Kings to the Maitre d' of maitre-ds?
The music in most synagogues and churches bores me as well. Christian praise music is fun for about three minutes, and then it becomes trite and tedious. The lyrics are insipid and reduce Jesus to a one-dimensional cartoon. Hasidic niggunim (wordless melodies) are more palatable to me, but these too become tame after a short time. And I am put off by liberal Jews forcing out a few di d’d’di niggunim as if a niggun could make up for a theology that pretends we haven’t read a science or philosophy book in 300 years. Why is it that I can listen to Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Peter, Paul, and Mary, Woody Guthrie, and Pete Seeger over and over again without getting bored, but I can’t take synagogue music two weeks in a row?
Most sermons bore me. If it’s on the Gospel, Jesus turns out to be a prototype of Dr. Phil, and if it is on the Torah, the rabbi has to jump through hoops to make the text say what it clearly doesn’t say. I love Torah because it is upsetting, and all efforts to make it safe are robbing Judaism of any relevance.
So maybe boredom is our problem, at least when it comes to religion. I have no idea how the book that sparked this line of thinking deals with boredom, but I suspect no amount of esthetic or institutional change is going to fix this crisis. We can train our clergy to be more entertaining, but that won’t really help when the content is essentially irrelevant.
So religion is going to stay boring for a long time. Why? Because we are boring. Our services reflect ourselves. If there is a God we must bore the crap out of her.
So what can we do? First, stop being bored. Do something that ignites your passion. Then, once you remember what it’s like to be on fire that way, refuse to attend any worship service that douses that fire. Demand the same quality of thought, music, poetry, and speech in your place of worship that you would from a commercial venture. Refuse to be bored. Refuse to join a community that bores you. Refuse to support clergy that bore you. Refuse to sing boring songs, and read boring prose and poetry. Demand more.
You probably won’t get it, but at least you won’t be bored. That’s one crisis down, a few dozen to go. Health care, anyone?
Jewish liturgical yoga—the incessant standing up and sitting down during our services— bores me. We should do one or the other. I prefer sitting in a chair that offers true ergonomic support so that I can comfortably slip into a meditative state. Few churches or synagogues provide that. I wonder if we should build sanctuaries with Back Saver chairs in them. Probably not: it would make it too easy to fall asleep during the service. Maybe that is why we keep jumping up and down—it keeps us from falling asleep.
Most liturgies bore me. The language is flat and the reading is flat and the content is flat and it leaves me, well… flat. We never say anything that excites me. Either we are reading something so trite that I can’t affirm it with any enthusiasm, or something so inane that I can’t even be bothered to argue against it. Take the idea that God is the Lord of Hosts, for example. What is that? I imagine God presiding over a Toastmasters-like gathering of hosts and hostesses. Is the best we can do in a democratic country: reduce the King of Kings to the Maitre d' of maitre-ds?
The music in most synagogues and churches bores me as well. Christian praise music is fun for about three minutes, and then it becomes trite and tedious. The lyrics are insipid and reduce Jesus to a one-dimensional cartoon. Hasidic niggunim (wordless melodies) are more palatable to me, but these too become tame after a short time. And I am put off by liberal Jews forcing out a few di d’d’di niggunim as if a niggun could make up for a theology that pretends we haven’t read a science or philosophy book in 300 years. Why is it that I can listen to Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Peter, Paul, and Mary, Woody Guthrie, and Pete Seeger over and over again without getting bored, but I can’t take synagogue music two weeks in a row?
Most sermons bore me. If it’s on the Gospel, Jesus turns out to be a prototype of Dr. Phil, and if it is on the Torah, the rabbi has to jump through hoops to make the text say what it clearly doesn’t say. I love Torah because it is upsetting, and all efforts to make it safe are robbing Judaism of any relevance.
So maybe boredom is our problem, at least when it comes to religion. I have no idea how the book that sparked this line of thinking deals with boredom, but I suspect no amount of esthetic or institutional change is going to fix this crisis. We can train our clergy to be more entertaining, but that won’t really help when the content is essentially irrelevant.
So religion is going to stay boring for a long time. Why? Because we are boring. Our services reflect ourselves. If there is a God we must bore the crap out of her.
So what can we do? First, stop being bored. Do something that ignites your passion. Then, once you remember what it’s like to be on fire that way, refuse to attend any worship service that douses that fire. Demand the same quality of thought, music, poetry, and speech in your place of worship that you would from a commercial venture. Refuse to be bored. Refuse to join a community that bores you. Refuse to support clergy that bore you. Refuse to sing boring songs, and read boring prose and poetry. Demand more.
You probably won’t get it, but at least you won’t be bored. That’s one crisis down, a few dozen to go. Health care, anyone?
Monday, October 19, 2009
Christ vs. Krishna: Smack Down in Delhi
I spend much of my time participating in interfaith gatherings where the vast majority of participants accept the premise presented in the Hindu Rig Veda: “Truth is one. Different people call it by different names.” Most of us understand that religions and the gods they cherish are human inventions seeking to articulate what is at heart ineffable.
As the Tao te Ching reminds us, “The Tao that can be named is not the eternal Tao.” Any god you can institutionalize, any god you can theologize about, any god you can sell to your neighbor, just isn’t God. The true God is found in silence, stillness, and compassion. This doesn’t mean that religions have nothing to offer. On the contrary, our lives would be much poorer without them. It only means that they should realize their own limitations and be humble.
Of course this never happens. No matter how much we learn about the nature of religion, religion never seems to grow up. Case in point: the new push by Catholics to bring the Good News of Christ to the Bad News Brahmins of India.
Fifteen hundred Catholics attended the Indian Mission Congress in Mumbai last week to fire themselves up about sharing the light of Christ in the dark land of Krishna. Archbishop Pedro Lopez Quintana, Apostolic Nuncio to India, said that Christians have an obligation to spread the Gospel in India as that nation falls ever more deeply into the depravity of illicit sexuality, drug abuse, poverty, and violence.
When I read this I thought, “Finally, someone is going to clean up the moral cesspool that is India! And who better to do it than Catholics?” I mean the Catholic Church is all about goodness, and ending poverty and violence. Just look at the lives of people in predominately Catholic countries such as Mexico (95% Catholic) and Columbia (91.90% Catholic). These good people under the guidance of the Catholic Church all live peaceful lives of financial sobriety and security, free from violence, drugs, and sexual perversion. And who could possibly suspect the Church and its priests of sexual immorality?
So I say, “Go get ‘em, Jesus!” This is exactly what India and the world needs, more religious strife.
Not that Catholicism doesn’t have much to offer the world; it does. But if the Church wants to share its light the best way to do it would be to create ideal societies in the countries that are already Catholic. Show us how it’s done, Papa. This is hard work, of course. It is much easier to go out and convert others to your faith than it is to actually live that faith yourselves.
Here is my best-case scenario for the Catholic Mission in India. First, they offer such a clear alternative to the caste system that Hindus worldwide finally free themselves of that oppressive idea. Second, they discover that Jesus was an incarnation of Vishnu, and realize that Hindus, too, are speaking the Truth, they are just doing so using their own names. I doubt either of these things will happen, of course. But I can dream, can’t I?
As the Tao te Ching reminds us, “The Tao that can be named is not the eternal Tao.” Any god you can institutionalize, any god you can theologize about, any god you can sell to your neighbor, just isn’t God. The true God is found in silence, stillness, and compassion. This doesn’t mean that religions have nothing to offer. On the contrary, our lives would be much poorer without them. It only means that they should realize their own limitations and be humble.
Of course this never happens. No matter how much we learn about the nature of religion, religion never seems to grow up. Case in point: the new push by Catholics to bring the Good News of Christ to the Bad News Brahmins of India.
Fifteen hundred Catholics attended the Indian Mission Congress in Mumbai last week to fire themselves up about sharing the light of Christ in the dark land of Krishna. Archbishop Pedro Lopez Quintana, Apostolic Nuncio to India, said that Christians have an obligation to spread the Gospel in India as that nation falls ever more deeply into the depravity of illicit sexuality, drug abuse, poverty, and violence.
When I read this I thought, “Finally, someone is going to clean up the moral cesspool that is India! And who better to do it than Catholics?” I mean the Catholic Church is all about goodness, and ending poverty and violence. Just look at the lives of people in predominately Catholic countries such as Mexico (95% Catholic) and Columbia (91.90% Catholic). These good people under the guidance of the Catholic Church all live peaceful lives of financial sobriety and security, free from violence, drugs, and sexual perversion. And who could possibly suspect the Church and its priests of sexual immorality?
So I say, “Go get ‘em, Jesus!” This is exactly what India and the world needs, more religious strife.
Not that Catholicism doesn’t have much to offer the world; it does. But if the Church wants to share its light the best way to do it would be to create ideal societies in the countries that are already Catholic. Show us how it’s done, Papa. This is hard work, of course. It is much easier to go out and convert others to your faith than it is to actually live that faith yourselves.
Here is my best-case scenario for the Catholic Mission in India. First, they offer such a clear alternative to the caste system that Hindus worldwide finally free themselves of that oppressive idea. Second, they discover that Jesus was an incarnation of Vishnu, and realize that Hindus, too, are speaking the Truth, they are just doing so using their own names. I doubt either of these things will happen, of course. But I can dream, can’t I?
Friday, October 16, 2009
Don't think twice, Ma. I'm only believin'
It’s irrational to argue rationally. At least that’s the conclusion I draw from a recent study on the nature of belief and reason.
According to Lane Wallace in THE WEEK (October 9, 2009), recent studies show that people will defend their strongly held beliefs regardless of the facts, and will do so using what researchers call “motivated reasoning.”
Motivated reasoning is actually illogical thinking fueled by the desperate need to be right. People so identify with their opinions that to be wrong is to lose some sense of one’s very existence. In other words, facts, logic, and reason are irrelevant when dealing with passionately held beliefs.
So is discussion on deeply held issues useless? Probably. If other people are going to resort of illogic to defeat my logic,* I can’t win. And if I can’t win, why bother playing?
This is both refreshing and troubling. Refreshing because now I have scientific evidence that other people are crazy. Troubling because now the only way to win an argument is to kill the person with whom you are arguing. This isn’t news. The Bible and the Koran make it pretty clear that there is no point in arguing with infidels; kill them and be done with it. Kill their cows, too, while you’re at it; you can never be too careful.
But perhaps there is hope in these findings. Now that we know we will employ all kinds of irrationality to maintain the pretense that our beliefs are rational, we might hold our beliefs with a bit more humility.
How might that humility manifest? It might allow us to listen to one another a bit more carefully. If I know that I resort to irrationality to defend my beliefs, I might be more careful in my positions and defense of them. If I know that my beliefs may be bolstered by unreason, I might be more open to hearing the beliefs of others, and less inclined to attack those beliefs. And, if I don’t attack the beliefs of others, perhaps they will feel less inclined to resort to illogic themselves. And if all of us are wary of our own irrationality we might actually learn something from one another, and that would be refreshing.
But I suspect I am being Pollyannaish; it is just too inconvenient having different-believers around. All you have to do is watch the insanity that passes for discussion and debate in Congress or town hall meetings or cable news shows to know that people are addicted to irrationality.
So what will we conclude from this study? It’s simple: stop worrying about being rational and just up the volume.
*I would never resort to irrationality, illogic, or falsehood. Or, if I did, I would never admit, just as I am not admitting it here.
According to Lane Wallace in THE WEEK (October 9, 2009), recent studies show that people will defend their strongly held beliefs regardless of the facts, and will do so using what researchers call “motivated reasoning.”
Motivated reasoning is actually illogical thinking fueled by the desperate need to be right. People so identify with their opinions that to be wrong is to lose some sense of one’s very existence. In other words, facts, logic, and reason are irrelevant when dealing with passionately held beliefs.
So is discussion on deeply held issues useless? Probably. If other people are going to resort of illogic to defeat my logic,* I can’t win. And if I can’t win, why bother playing?
This is both refreshing and troubling. Refreshing because now I have scientific evidence that other people are crazy. Troubling because now the only way to win an argument is to kill the person with whom you are arguing. This isn’t news. The Bible and the Koran make it pretty clear that there is no point in arguing with infidels; kill them and be done with it. Kill their cows, too, while you’re at it; you can never be too careful.
But perhaps there is hope in these findings. Now that we know we will employ all kinds of irrationality to maintain the pretense that our beliefs are rational, we might hold our beliefs with a bit more humility.
How might that humility manifest? It might allow us to listen to one another a bit more carefully. If I know that I resort to irrationality to defend my beliefs, I might be more careful in my positions and defense of them. If I know that my beliefs may be bolstered by unreason, I might be more open to hearing the beliefs of others, and less inclined to attack those beliefs. And, if I don’t attack the beliefs of others, perhaps they will feel less inclined to resort to illogic themselves. And if all of us are wary of our own irrationality we might actually learn something from one another, and that would be refreshing.
But I suspect I am being Pollyannaish; it is just too inconvenient having different-believers around. All you have to do is watch the insanity that passes for discussion and debate in Congress or town hall meetings or cable news shows to know that people are addicted to irrationality.
So what will we conclude from this study? It’s simple: stop worrying about being rational and just up the volume.
*I would never resort to irrationality, illogic, or falsehood. Or, if I did, I would never admit, just as I am not admitting it here.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Going Brown: Valuing Butts Over Bark
I am not an environmentalist. I used to be, but not any more. I mean, I was one yesterday, but not today. What made me change my mind? Al Gore’s war on my ass.
I enjoy taking a good shit. I am happy when you have one, and happier still when I have one. Following the Jewish tradition, I offer a prayer of thanks every time I go to the toilet, expressing genuine gratitude for the wondrous workings of the body. When push comes to shove, constipation is not my friend.
One of the joys of moving one’s bowels is cleaning up afterward using a high quality 127-ply perfumed industrial strength absorbent roll of toilet paper. I like the feel of it—thick as an Amish quilt; the fragrance of it—as strong as Aqua Velva; and the way it gloves my hand with four or five inches of protective paper. What could be better?
Enter Al Gore. No, not Mr. Gore himself, I am using his name to represent all those inconvenient truth speakers who sap the fun out of ruining the planet. It seems that my precious toilet paper is made from old-growth trees, and that my desire for comfort is killing the planet one wipe at a time. Well, you know what? I don’t care. There are other planets. When I flush the last of this one down the toilet, I’ll just move to another one.
What is the point of having an old tree, anyway? It doesn’t do anything. At least if we turn one into toilet paper it gets the satisfaction of being useful to us, and that is what trees really want, isn’t it? To be of service to selfish boys like me? I’ve read Shel Silverstein’s scientific study of trees and I understand their need to be self-sacrificing. This is what they live for; this is what they die for.
And, now that I’m thinking about it, why should old trees take precedent over young trees? We expect old things to die. President Obama isn’t proposing death panels for young people (the unborn excepted), but for old people. Why should it be different for trees? After all if you have to make toilet paper out of people would you choose the elderly or the newborn? True, the newborn are softer, but with the proper processing the elderly would do quite nicely.
And have you tried the other brands of toilet paper? Well, I have. I’ve tried the ones that feel like sandpaper and leave your butt bloody and raw. I’ve tried the lesser ply brands that rip apart at the exact moment to allow for a quick check of your prostate while you wipe. And I’ve lived in Israel where they seem to mistake wax paper for toilet paper. So I’m no stranger to the hardships of not having the proper tool to deal with the blessed stool. I just want that tool, and don’t care how old the tree is that can give it to me.
So I’m going brown rather than green. Given the current climate of Democratic Socialist Fascism I fully expect Mr. Obama to create a Toilet Paper Czar who will strip our stores of old-growth toilet paper and imprison those of us who value butts over bark, so I am building an underground bunker in which to stockpile enough quality toilet paper to get me through the Mayan collapse of civilization and the election of Sarah Palin as POTUS. My suggestion: you ought to do the same.
I enjoy taking a good shit. I am happy when you have one, and happier still when I have one. Following the Jewish tradition, I offer a prayer of thanks every time I go to the toilet, expressing genuine gratitude for the wondrous workings of the body. When push comes to shove, constipation is not my friend.
One of the joys of moving one’s bowels is cleaning up afterward using a high quality 127-ply perfumed industrial strength absorbent roll of toilet paper. I like the feel of it—thick as an Amish quilt; the fragrance of it—as strong as Aqua Velva; and the way it gloves my hand with four or five inches of protective paper. What could be better?
Enter Al Gore. No, not Mr. Gore himself, I am using his name to represent all those inconvenient truth speakers who sap the fun out of ruining the planet. It seems that my precious toilet paper is made from old-growth trees, and that my desire for comfort is killing the planet one wipe at a time. Well, you know what? I don’t care. There are other planets. When I flush the last of this one down the toilet, I’ll just move to another one.
What is the point of having an old tree, anyway? It doesn’t do anything. At least if we turn one into toilet paper it gets the satisfaction of being useful to us, and that is what trees really want, isn’t it? To be of service to selfish boys like me? I’ve read Shel Silverstein’s scientific study of trees and I understand their need to be self-sacrificing. This is what they live for; this is what they die for.
And, now that I’m thinking about it, why should old trees take precedent over young trees? We expect old things to die. President Obama isn’t proposing death panels for young people (the unborn excepted), but for old people. Why should it be different for trees? After all if you have to make toilet paper out of people would you choose the elderly or the newborn? True, the newborn are softer, but with the proper processing the elderly would do quite nicely.
And have you tried the other brands of toilet paper? Well, I have. I’ve tried the ones that feel like sandpaper and leave your butt bloody and raw. I’ve tried the lesser ply brands that rip apart at the exact moment to allow for a quick check of your prostate while you wipe. And I’ve lived in Israel where they seem to mistake wax paper for toilet paper. So I’m no stranger to the hardships of not having the proper tool to deal with the blessed stool. I just want that tool, and don’t care how old the tree is that can give it to me.
So I’m going brown rather than green. Given the current climate of Democratic Socialist Fascism I fully expect Mr. Obama to create a Toilet Paper Czar who will strip our stores of old-growth toilet paper and imprison those of us who value butts over bark, so I am building an underground bunker in which to stockpile enough quality toilet paper to get me through the Mayan collapse of civilization and the election of Sarah Palin as POTUS. My suggestion: you ought to do the same.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Prophet or Clerk?
During my first year of rabbinical school I was told that a rabbi could be a prophet or a clerk, and that most of us would turn out to be clerks.
Rabbi Steven Wernick, the head of Conservative Judaism’s rabbinical association, chose to be a prophet 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 think rabbis are good because they say what the people 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. Whether we are talking about Congress or congregations, it is always all about the money.
But what about Rabbi Wernick’s other claim, that liberal rabbis don’t believe? What he meant was that they 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 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 think rabbis are good because they say what the people 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. Whether we are talking about Congress or congregations, it is always all about the money.
But what about Rabbi Wernick’s other claim, that liberal rabbis don’t believe? What he meant was that they 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.
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Simchat Torah 2009
Sunday is Simchat Torah (“Rejoicing with the Torah”), the day on which we Jews conclude the annual cycle of Torah reading, and begin the reading all over again. The synagogue service on Simchat Torah is marked with wild dancing and song, and the Torah is paraded around the shul. Lots of us have fond memories of the holy day as kids, and some of us continue to observe the holy day ourselves. But so what?
What’s the point of reading and rereading a book that most of us don’t believe in? Few Jews believe that God dictated Torah to Moses on Mount Sinai. Most of us understand that the books of the Torah are compilations of different texts written at different times by people with different agendas. Most of us choose not to live our lives by the dictates of Torah, and few of us bother to read (let alone study) it. So why bother with Simchat Torah at all?
Let me be as concise as I can about this: Without Torah there is no Judaism and no Jews. God may be a figment of our imagination; Israel may be just one nation among others; Jews may be chosen only in our own eyes; but Torah is indispensible.
Identity depends on story. You are who you are as a person because of the memories you have, and the stories you tell about yourself and the lives of those with whom you identify. Story is everything to humans. That’s why memory loss is so devastating. Without our memories we lose our stories, and without our stories we lose ourselves.
Torah is our story. And like most stories, it is largely fiction. But that doesn’t matter. Truth is not the enemy of fiction. As any great novel demonstrates, fiction if often the best vehicle for telling the truth. Torah is that kind of fiction; the kind that tells truths, often discomforting truths.
People complain that Torah is filled with xenophobia, misogyny, and genocidal rage. Of course it is. Torah is our story, and mirrors our wickedness as well as our goodness. That’s what makes it worth reading over and over again. The more sophisticated we become regarding human nature, the more Torah helps us explore that nature. The more we are willing to open ourselves to the promise and perversity of humanity, the more Torah reveals these to us. We see what we are ready to see, and are beckoned by Torah to see a bit more as well.
This is why we read Torah differently throughout our lives. This is why we read it over and over, year after year, millennia after millennia. It evolves as we evolve; and it promotes that evolution my mirroring not just what we are at the moment, but we can become—both good and bad—in the next moment.
But what about the supernatural nonsense of the Torah: all the magic and miracles? Torah is myth, and often speaks through parable, puzzle, and paradox. That’s what makes it fun and challenging. To mistake myth as literal fact is to blind ourselves to the meaning of the text. When we read about the impossible we are challenged to test what is possible.
Simchat Torah celebrates the power of story to shape identity. The challenge is to read Torah with fresh eyes year after year; to see new possibilities in it that lift us Godward.
If we read Torah passively, our Jewishness becomes passive, and a passive identity creates stale people, stale lives, and limits the future to an imitation of the past. But when we dare to read Torah actively, when we challenge its madness and allow ourselves to be challenged by its genius, then we continually reinvent our story and ourselves. The future of Judaism and the Jewish people doesn’t depend on where we live, how we vote, or whom we marry. The future depends on whether or not we engage Torah passionately and creatively.
Whether or not you attend shul this Simchat Torah, I urge you to make Torah study a habit. Even if you have a copy of Torah in the house, buy yourself a new one. Check out the different versions and see which one speaks to you. Then read the parsha of the week and jot your thoughts down in the margins. Make the Torah your Torah. Then each week—or monthly as we in Murfreesboro do it— gather over Shabbos dinner with family and friends and wrestle with your different insights.
If there is one thing all Jews can do to insure not just the survival of our people but the thriving of our civilization, this is it.
Chag sameach.
What’s the point of reading and rereading a book that most of us don’t believe in? Few Jews believe that God dictated Torah to Moses on Mount Sinai. Most of us understand that the books of the Torah are compilations of different texts written at different times by people with different agendas. Most of us choose not to live our lives by the dictates of Torah, and few of us bother to read (let alone study) it. So why bother with Simchat Torah at all?
Let me be as concise as I can about this: Without Torah there is no Judaism and no Jews. God may be a figment of our imagination; Israel may be just one nation among others; Jews may be chosen only in our own eyes; but Torah is indispensible.
Identity depends on story. You are who you are as a person because of the memories you have, and the stories you tell about yourself and the lives of those with whom you identify. Story is everything to humans. That’s why memory loss is so devastating. Without our memories we lose our stories, and without our stories we lose ourselves.
Torah is our story. And like most stories, it is largely fiction. But that doesn’t matter. Truth is not the enemy of fiction. As any great novel demonstrates, fiction if often the best vehicle for telling the truth. Torah is that kind of fiction; the kind that tells truths, often discomforting truths.
People complain that Torah is filled with xenophobia, misogyny, and genocidal rage. Of course it is. Torah is our story, and mirrors our wickedness as well as our goodness. That’s what makes it worth reading over and over again. The more sophisticated we become regarding human nature, the more Torah helps us explore that nature. The more we are willing to open ourselves to the promise and perversity of humanity, the more Torah reveals these to us. We see what we are ready to see, and are beckoned by Torah to see a bit more as well.
This is why we read Torah differently throughout our lives. This is why we read it over and over, year after year, millennia after millennia. It evolves as we evolve; and it promotes that evolution my mirroring not just what we are at the moment, but we can become—both good and bad—in the next moment.
But what about the supernatural nonsense of the Torah: all the magic and miracles? Torah is myth, and often speaks through parable, puzzle, and paradox. That’s what makes it fun and challenging. To mistake myth as literal fact is to blind ourselves to the meaning of the text. When we read about the impossible we are challenged to test what is possible.
Simchat Torah celebrates the power of story to shape identity. The challenge is to read Torah with fresh eyes year after year; to see new possibilities in it that lift us Godward.
If we read Torah passively, our Jewishness becomes passive, and a passive identity creates stale people, stale lives, and limits the future to an imitation of the past. But when we dare to read Torah actively, when we challenge its madness and allow ourselves to be challenged by its genius, then we continually reinvent our story and ourselves. The future of Judaism and the Jewish people doesn’t depend on where we live, how we vote, or whom we marry. The future depends on whether or not we engage Torah passionately and creatively.
Whether or not you attend shul this Simchat Torah, I urge you to make Torah study a habit. Even if you have a copy of Torah in the house, buy yourself a new one. Check out the different versions and see which one speaks to you. Then read the parsha of the week and jot your thoughts down in the margins. Make the Torah your Torah. Then each week—or monthly as we in Murfreesboro do it— gather over Shabbos dinner with family and friends and wrestle with your different insights.
If there is one thing all Jews can do to insure not just the survival of our people but the thriving of our civilization, this is it.
Chag sameach.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Ain't Religion Grand?
Scripture doesn’t kill; people do.
That seems to be the motto of retired Naval Chaplain Gordon Klingenschmitt who, according to Mikey Weinstein, founder of the Military Religious Freedom Foundation, has been praying for Mikey’s death.
Mr. Weinstein’s organization fights Christian proselytizing in the armed forces of the United States. Since founding the organization, Mr. Weinstein has had a swastika painted on his home, and animal carcasses dumped on his doorstep. Despite the ambiguity of my grammar, these things were not done at the request of Mr. Weinstein. Nor is Mr. Weinstein blaming these things on Chaplain Klingenschmitt. Chaplain Klingenschmitt doesn’t want to bother Mr. Weinstein, but, at least according to Mr. Weinstein, he wants Jesus to kill him.
Mr. Weinstein claims that Chaplain Klingenschmitt regularly for Jesus to “plunder my fields … seize my assets, kill me and my family then wipe away our descendants for 10 generations."
In his defense Chaplain Klingenschmitt said, “I never prayed for anyone’s death. I never prayed for anyone’s violence (sic). All I did was quote the Scriptures.”
In the interest of Biblical literacy I tried to find the passages that Chaplain Klingenschmitt may have been citing, but I couldn’t find anything that resembled Mr. Weinstein’s charge. This doesn’t mean that Chaplain Klingenschmitt isn’t praying for bad things to happen to good Weinsteins, only that in doing so Chaplain Klingenschmitt isn’t really quoting scripture. But I could be wrong about this, so I invite you to search the Word yourself and share with us just what it might be that Chaplain Klingenschmitt is citing.
If in fact you do find the citations, please explain to me how Jesus can kill Mr. Weinstein and his family and then wipe away their descendants for 10 generations. If Jesus kills Mr. Weinstein and his family, how can there be any subsequent generations? And if it is possible why limit it to ten generations, or if you must limit it, how is Jesus going to restore the Weinsteins in the 11th generation?
Somehow I doubt Mr. Weinstein believes that Jesus can or would do any of this, but I would not be surprised if some follow of Jesus would take it upon himself to do them in Jesus’ name. Ain’t religion grand?
That seems to be the motto of retired Naval Chaplain Gordon Klingenschmitt who, according to Mikey Weinstein, founder of the Military Religious Freedom Foundation, has been praying for Mikey’s death.
Mr. Weinstein’s organization fights Christian proselytizing in the armed forces of the United States. Since founding the organization, Mr. Weinstein has had a swastika painted on his home, and animal carcasses dumped on his doorstep. Despite the ambiguity of my grammar, these things were not done at the request of Mr. Weinstein. Nor is Mr. Weinstein blaming these things on Chaplain Klingenschmitt. Chaplain Klingenschmitt doesn’t want to bother Mr. Weinstein, but, at least according to Mr. Weinstein, he wants Jesus to kill him.
Mr. Weinstein claims that Chaplain Klingenschmitt regularly for Jesus to “plunder my fields … seize my assets, kill me and my family then wipe away our descendants for 10 generations."
In his defense Chaplain Klingenschmitt said, “I never prayed for anyone’s death. I never prayed for anyone’s violence (sic). All I did was quote the Scriptures.”
In the interest of Biblical literacy I tried to find the passages that Chaplain Klingenschmitt may have been citing, but I couldn’t find anything that resembled Mr. Weinstein’s charge. This doesn’t mean that Chaplain Klingenschmitt isn’t praying for bad things to happen to good Weinsteins, only that in doing so Chaplain Klingenschmitt isn’t really quoting scripture. But I could be wrong about this, so I invite you to search the Word yourself and share with us just what it might be that Chaplain Klingenschmitt is citing.
If in fact you do find the citations, please explain to me how Jesus can kill Mr. Weinstein and his family and then wipe away their descendants for 10 generations. If Jesus kills Mr. Weinstein and his family, how can there be any subsequent generations? And if it is possible why limit it to ten generations, or if you must limit it, how is Jesus going to restore the Weinsteins in the 11th generation?
Somehow I doubt Mr. Weinstein believes that Jesus can or would do any of this, but I would not be surprised if some follow of Jesus would take it upon himself to do them in Jesus’ name. Ain’t religion grand?
Monday, October 05, 2009
Religion on Parade or Parade on Religion
Sunday morning’s Parade Magazine (October 4, 2009) published the results of a Parade survey on American spirituality. While all such surveys have their limits, I enjoy reading the findings. Here are some brief comments on the more intriguing findings.
1. While 69% of Americans say they believe in God, 77% of Americans pray to him. That means more people pray to God than believe in God. To whom are these 8% of Americans praying?
2. Religious Americans comprise 45% of the population, while 50% rarely bother with religious services at all. A little over half of these people (27%) don’t practice any kind of religion, which leaves 24% of the respondents who call themselves “spiritual but not religious.” (Plus the 1% left over who didn’t really understand the question.) This SBNR thing is really taking off, but there are still millions of Americans who don’t fit this label. Maybe someone should start a support group for them: Religious but not spiritual.
3. While I am often told that the reason people belong to a religion is for community, it turns out that this is true of only 8% of Americans. I get this totally. The older I get the less inclined I am to join something or to seek out a community. Most of the I want to be left alone. But not all of the time. What we SBNR types need is a “once in a while” community where we gather maybe once or twice a year to share our spiritual lives and struggles.
4. Here is a number that I found surprising: only 14% of Americans feel their religion makes them safe and secure. Does this mean that the other 36% of the religious but not spiritual crowd join a religion to feel more anxious and fearful? Or does it mean that religious is scaring the shit out of most of the people who profess to belong to one? If your religion is all about hell and damnation, or blowing yourself up to get a date in heaven (which probably doesn’t allow dating anyway), or about why God keeps kicking you when you are down, then I can see why you don’t find religion all that comforting. Personally, I think comforting religions are a scam. I want a religion that discomforts me; that challenges me to see through the egoic bullshit that passes for spirituality and theology in this country, and helps me to live justly, kindly, and humbly with the fact that I don’t know jack.
5. The survey wasn’t very kind to clergy. Only 12% of Americans believe their religion is the one true religion, while 59% believe that all religions are valid. Cleary we clergy are failing at our stated mission: getting people to join our brand and shun the competition. In the real world, Macy’s doesn’t send it shoppers to Gimble’s (which is why there is no longer any Gimble’s). We clergy aren’t supposed to help you find the religion that best suits you, we are supposed to sell you our suit no matter how unsuited you are to it. If 88% of Americans think that other religions are equally effective as their own they might consider shopping for salvation elsewhere. This does not bode well for our job security.
6. And it gets worse: only 17% of respondents say they consult clergy for help when dealing with a problem. As a writer of a spiritual Q&A column for Spirituality & Health magazine I am dependent upon those who ask me for advice, so this number has got to increase or I will be out of a job. Who do they consult? Friends and family! Can you imagine? What does your married friend know about marriage that your celibate priest hasn’t read in a book? To be honest, anything you need to know about male-female relationships you can find in the Bible. Which is why priests are celibate. Who wants to live the biblical family ideal? My favorite book on relationships is “Men are from Mars, Women are from Penis.” Or something like that.
So if people don’t turn to clergy for advice, and they don’t think that any clergyperson has the pick that will unlock the gates of heaven, why bother with clergy at all? Man, this is depressing.
Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe clergy, too, know the old ways are no longer speaking to most Americans. Maybe a growing number of clergy are admitting to themselves that they too are spiritual but not religious. Certainly that speaks to my situation.
So what should we SBNR clergy do? Given the way Americans are moving, there may be a real need for post-religious spiritual mentors to help people navigate the intricacies of SBNR. SBNR “clergy” would be trained in spiritual practices and post-modern theologies. They wouldn’t care about brand labels and denominations. They would care about you waking up to your innate divinity. They wouldn’t be limited to one way, but grounded in the full spectrum of the wisdom of the world’s religions, mythologies, transpersonal psychologies, etc., and capable of helping those who wish to deepen their spiritual nature without having to align themselves with one brand of faith or another.
Those SBNR clergy interested in exploring the evolution of classically trained clergy in a SBNR world should contact my friends Rev. Ian Lawton and Steve Frazee at www.sbnr.org. Let them know that you are interested in attending a gathering of SBNR clergy to explore our role in the emerging SBNR world. If enough of us are out there, I bet we can do a lot of good, and SBNR.org can help us do it.
If you aren’t part of the clergy and yet still find yourself in the SBNR camp, check out www.sbnr.org for yourself. There is a lot of exciting things happening there.
1. While 69% of Americans say they believe in God, 77% of Americans pray to him. That means more people pray to God than believe in God. To whom are these 8% of Americans praying?
2. Religious Americans comprise 45% of the population, while 50% rarely bother with religious services at all. A little over half of these people (27%) don’t practice any kind of religion, which leaves 24% of the respondents who call themselves “spiritual but not religious.” (Plus the 1% left over who didn’t really understand the question.) This SBNR thing is really taking off, but there are still millions of Americans who don’t fit this label. Maybe someone should start a support group for them: Religious but not spiritual.
3. While I am often told that the reason people belong to a religion is for community, it turns out that this is true of only 8% of Americans. I get this totally. The older I get the less inclined I am to join something or to seek out a community. Most of the I want to be left alone. But not all of the time. What we SBNR types need is a “once in a while” community where we gather maybe once or twice a year to share our spiritual lives and struggles.
4. Here is a number that I found surprising: only 14% of Americans feel their religion makes them safe and secure. Does this mean that the other 36% of the religious but not spiritual crowd join a religion to feel more anxious and fearful? Or does it mean that religious is scaring the shit out of most of the people who profess to belong to one? If your religion is all about hell and damnation, or blowing yourself up to get a date in heaven (which probably doesn’t allow dating anyway), or about why God keeps kicking you when you are down, then I can see why you don’t find religion all that comforting. Personally, I think comforting religions are a scam. I want a religion that discomforts me; that challenges me to see through the egoic bullshit that passes for spirituality and theology in this country, and helps me to live justly, kindly, and humbly with the fact that I don’t know jack.
5. The survey wasn’t very kind to clergy. Only 12% of Americans believe their religion is the one true religion, while 59% believe that all religions are valid. Cleary we clergy are failing at our stated mission: getting people to join our brand and shun the competition. In the real world, Macy’s doesn’t send it shoppers to Gimble’s (which is why there is no longer any Gimble’s). We clergy aren’t supposed to help you find the religion that best suits you, we are supposed to sell you our suit no matter how unsuited you are to it. If 88% of Americans think that other religions are equally effective as their own they might consider shopping for salvation elsewhere. This does not bode well for our job security.
6. And it gets worse: only 17% of respondents say they consult clergy for help when dealing with a problem. As a writer of a spiritual Q&A column for Spirituality & Health magazine I am dependent upon those who ask me for advice, so this number has got to increase or I will be out of a job. Who do they consult? Friends and family! Can you imagine? What does your married friend know about marriage that your celibate priest hasn’t read in a book? To be honest, anything you need to know about male-female relationships you can find in the Bible. Which is why priests are celibate. Who wants to live the biblical family ideal? My favorite book on relationships is “Men are from Mars, Women are from Penis.” Or something like that.
So if people don’t turn to clergy for advice, and they don’t think that any clergyperson has the pick that will unlock the gates of heaven, why bother with clergy at all? Man, this is depressing.
Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe clergy, too, know the old ways are no longer speaking to most Americans. Maybe a growing number of clergy are admitting to themselves that they too are spiritual but not religious. Certainly that speaks to my situation.
So what should we SBNR clergy do? Given the way Americans are moving, there may be a real need for post-religious spiritual mentors to help people navigate the intricacies of SBNR. SBNR “clergy” would be trained in spiritual practices and post-modern theologies. They wouldn’t care about brand labels and denominations. They would care about you waking up to your innate divinity. They wouldn’t be limited to one way, but grounded in the full spectrum of the wisdom of the world’s religions, mythologies, transpersonal psychologies, etc., and capable of helping those who wish to deepen their spiritual nature without having to align themselves with one brand of faith or another.
Those SBNR clergy interested in exploring the evolution of classically trained clergy in a SBNR world should contact my friends Rev. Ian Lawton and Steve Frazee at www.sbnr.org. Let them know that you are interested in attending a gathering of SBNR clergy to explore our role in the emerging SBNR world. If enough of us are out there, I bet we can do a lot of good, and SBNR.org can help us do it.
If you aren’t part of the clergy and yet still find yourself in the SBNR camp, check out www.sbnr.org for yourself. There is a lot of exciting things happening there.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Sukkot 5770
This Friday evening is the start of the weeklong Sukkot celebration. On the surface this is Judaism’s version of Thanksgiving, but it is so much more. Here are some interesting insights into the holy day.
1. According to tradition, Sukkot will be the only holy day celebrated in the Messianic Age.
2. While we are told that the sukkah represents the tents in which our ancestors dwelt while wandering in the Sinai, this is clearly nonsense. We dwelt in tents, not booths, and if Sukkot were really a reminder of Sinai we would spend the week in tents. The sukkah is in fact reminiscent of the temporary shelters used during the autumn harvest in which both harvest and harvesters took shelter.
3. The sukkah must be flimsy, temporary, and open to the elements. Why? Because the sukkah teaches us that there is no shelter from the storms of life. There is nothing we can build that will protect us from life’s catastrophes. Coming as it does on the heels of Yom Kippur and the notion that we have been written into the Book of Life, Sukkot is a huge slap of awakening. Being inscribed into the Book of Life has nothing to do with avoiding danger, sorrow, suffering, or death. Rather it means that whatever this year brings, you cannot escape it, and you are challenged to spend your time l’chayyim: promoting life, enjoying life’s gifts, and giving thanks for them.
4. The book of Leviticus tells us: “On the first day you shall take the product of hadar trees, branches of palm trees, boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook, and you shall rejoice before Adonai your God seven days” (Leviticus 23:40). This is the lulav that, together with the etrog (citron), we wave in all directions as an act of symbolic magic. The lulav represents the masculine energies of the universe. The etrog represents the feminine energies of the universe. We hold them together and symbolically seek to unify masculine and feminine within ourselves and among ourselves in a hieros gamos, a divine marriage of opposites. This is an affirmation of the unity of all opposites in, with, and as God, the source and substance of all reality.
5. The text we study during Sukkot is Ecclesiastes (Kohelet), one of the most challenging books of the Bible. Kohelet places doubt above faith, or rather it places doubt at the heart of true faith, and challenges us to live rightly without the crutch of imagining that we are thereby earning some reward. There is no reward. We do right because it is right. Kohelet teaches us how to live in a world of uncertainty. If Sukkot is the holy day of messianic times, Kohelet is the Torah of those times. The messianic age is not one in which all questioning stops and answers are provided, but the time when the deepest questioning begins and no answers are given. That is to say, when we live without knowing, we live with true faith, a faith that transcends mere belief.
6. Among the traditions of Sukkot is ushpizin inviting our ancestors into the Sukkah. Couple this with the practice of inviting friends to eat together in the sukkah and you begin to realize that the message of both Sukkot and Ecclesiastes is that friendship is the key to living well in a world of uncertainty. (See Ecclesiastes 4:12, the threefold cord of friendship).
Sukkot is a powerful holy day period. Don’t let the week go by without honoring it in some way. At the very least read Ecclesiastes. And, if you will pardon a moment of rank self-promotion, you might enjoy reading my version of the text called the Way of Solomon.
Hag Sameach Sukkot,
Rami
1. According to tradition, Sukkot will be the only holy day celebrated in the Messianic Age.
2. While we are told that the sukkah represents the tents in which our ancestors dwelt while wandering in the Sinai, this is clearly nonsense. We dwelt in tents, not booths, and if Sukkot were really a reminder of Sinai we would spend the week in tents. The sukkah is in fact reminiscent of the temporary shelters used during the autumn harvest in which both harvest and harvesters took shelter.
3. The sukkah must be flimsy, temporary, and open to the elements. Why? Because the sukkah teaches us that there is no shelter from the storms of life. There is nothing we can build that will protect us from life’s catastrophes. Coming as it does on the heels of Yom Kippur and the notion that we have been written into the Book of Life, Sukkot is a huge slap of awakening. Being inscribed into the Book of Life has nothing to do with avoiding danger, sorrow, suffering, or death. Rather it means that whatever this year brings, you cannot escape it, and you are challenged to spend your time l’chayyim: promoting life, enjoying life’s gifts, and giving thanks for them.
4. The book of Leviticus tells us: “On the first day you shall take the product of hadar trees, branches of palm trees, boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook, and you shall rejoice before Adonai your God seven days” (Leviticus 23:40). This is the lulav that, together with the etrog (citron), we wave in all directions as an act of symbolic magic. The lulav represents the masculine energies of the universe. The etrog represents the feminine energies of the universe. We hold them together and symbolically seek to unify masculine and feminine within ourselves and among ourselves in a hieros gamos, a divine marriage of opposites. This is an affirmation of the unity of all opposites in, with, and as God, the source and substance of all reality.
5. The text we study during Sukkot is Ecclesiastes (Kohelet), one of the most challenging books of the Bible. Kohelet places doubt above faith, or rather it places doubt at the heart of true faith, and challenges us to live rightly without the crutch of imagining that we are thereby earning some reward. There is no reward. We do right because it is right. Kohelet teaches us how to live in a world of uncertainty. If Sukkot is the holy day of messianic times, Kohelet is the Torah of those times. The messianic age is not one in which all questioning stops and answers are provided, but the time when the deepest questioning begins and no answers are given. That is to say, when we live without knowing, we live with true faith, a faith that transcends mere belief.
6. Among the traditions of Sukkot is ushpizin inviting our ancestors into the Sukkah. Couple this with the practice of inviting friends to eat together in the sukkah and you begin to realize that the message of both Sukkot and Ecclesiastes is that friendship is the key to living well in a world of uncertainty. (See Ecclesiastes 4:12, the threefold cord of friendship).
Sukkot is a powerful holy day period. Don’t let the week go by without honoring it in some way. At the very least read Ecclesiastes. And, if you will pardon a moment of rank self-promotion, you might enjoy reading my version of the text called the Way of Solomon.
Hag Sameach Sukkot,
Rami
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Four Questions Christians Ask About Judaism
I’ve been speaking at a lot of churches lately, and I noticed the same four questions being asked: “Are Jews a race?” “Are the Pharisees evil?” “Did the Jews kill Jesus?” “Why do the Jews reject Jesus as their Messiah?” Let me share my brief responses to each.
Are the Jews a race? No. We are a people, like the Cherokee or the Sioux. Jews come in all races and many nationalities. What ties us together is not genes but memes, a story that we delight in retelling and reinventing without end. Just as a person can marry into a Native American tribe or be adopted by one, so people can marry into the Jewish people and convert to our way of life.
The corollary question to “Are Jews a race” is “Is Judaism a religion?” The answer is yes and no. There are a variety of religions called Judaism: biblical Judaism, Priestly Judaism, Rabbinic Judaism, which itself comes in many forms—Hasidic, Orthodox, Conservative, Reconstructionist, Reform, and Humanistic, and Secular Judaism. But most Jews are not religious, choosing to affirm their identity as Jews through Judaism as a culture. While religion permeates the culture, providing us with distinctive celebrations, feasts, fasts, and foods, the culture is larger than the religion leading ultimately to a way of thinking about reality that is rooted in fierce questioning, doubt, argument, and a love of paradox. One is not born with these traits, but learns them to the extent that one is actively engaged in Jewish culture.
Are the Pharisees evil? No. Many Christians use the term Pharisee to represent all that is self-righteous, hateful, narrow minded, course, and cruel. This has to do with the anti-Jewish polemic of the New Testament and the Jew hatred of later Christian leaders. The Pharisees were in fact the liberals of their day (536 BCE -70 CE) who sought to transform biblical Judaism into something more open and dynamic. Hillel was among the greatest of the Pharisees, and it was he who taught that the whole of Torah is summed up in the teaching, “What is hateful to you, do not do unto others.” Christians who continue to use the word “Pharisee” to represent those forces and frames of mind antithetical to the supposedly love-filled way of Jesus and his contemporary followers are perpetuating Jew-hatred and should stop doing so immediately.
Did the Jews Kills Jesus? No. The Romans killed Jesus. Did some Jews collaborate with Rome in this matter? Yes. The office of the High Priest was bought and sold by the Romans which meant the High Priest was owned by Rome. Anything or anyone that might upset the status quo had to be stopped. So it isn’t difficult to imagine that some Jews saw Jesus as a threat to them and perhaps to the Jewish people as a whole. But the actions of a few should not be blamed on the many. Jesus was Jewish, his followers were Jewish, the crowds that gathered to listen to him preach and that welcomed him into Jerusalem on what is today called Palm Sunday were Jewish. The fact that John’s Gospel blames the Jews as a people for the death of Jesus speaks to the need of the early Church to placate Rome, and has little historical validity vis a vis the Jews.
Why do Jews reject Jesus as the Messiah? The messianic ideal in Judaism is political: the messiah is a human being anointed by God (mashiach in Hebrew means anointed one) to free Israel from occupation, lead all Jews back to their homeland, and establish a just and compassionate state with the Temple at its heart. Jesus did not do of these things, and therefore isn’t the messiah as Jews define the term.
Christianity redefined the meaning of messiah in spiritual terms and placed Jesus’ kingdom outside this world, something that makes Jesus irrelevant to Jews. As the Son of God Jesus comes to redeem us from Original Sin, something Judaism knows nothing about. While it makes perfect sense for those who believe they have Original Sin to want to get rid of it, it is very hard to convince people who do not believe it to seek the cure to a disease they do not have.
Are the Jews a race? No. We are a people, like the Cherokee or the Sioux. Jews come in all races and many nationalities. What ties us together is not genes but memes, a story that we delight in retelling and reinventing without end. Just as a person can marry into a Native American tribe or be adopted by one, so people can marry into the Jewish people and convert to our way of life.
The corollary question to “Are Jews a race” is “Is Judaism a religion?” The answer is yes and no. There are a variety of religions called Judaism: biblical Judaism, Priestly Judaism, Rabbinic Judaism, which itself comes in many forms—Hasidic, Orthodox, Conservative, Reconstructionist, Reform, and Humanistic, and Secular Judaism. But most Jews are not religious, choosing to affirm their identity as Jews through Judaism as a culture. While religion permeates the culture, providing us with distinctive celebrations, feasts, fasts, and foods, the culture is larger than the religion leading ultimately to a way of thinking about reality that is rooted in fierce questioning, doubt, argument, and a love of paradox. One is not born with these traits, but learns them to the extent that one is actively engaged in Jewish culture.
Are the Pharisees evil? No. Many Christians use the term Pharisee to represent all that is self-righteous, hateful, narrow minded, course, and cruel. This has to do with the anti-Jewish polemic of the New Testament and the Jew hatred of later Christian leaders. The Pharisees were in fact the liberals of their day (536 BCE -70 CE) who sought to transform biblical Judaism into something more open and dynamic. Hillel was among the greatest of the Pharisees, and it was he who taught that the whole of Torah is summed up in the teaching, “What is hateful to you, do not do unto others.” Christians who continue to use the word “Pharisee” to represent those forces and frames of mind antithetical to the supposedly love-filled way of Jesus and his contemporary followers are perpetuating Jew-hatred and should stop doing so immediately.
Did the Jews Kills Jesus? No. The Romans killed Jesus. Did some Jews collaborate with Rome in this matter? Yes. The office of the High Priest was bought and sold by the Romans which meant the High Priest was owned by Rome. Anything or anyone that might upset the status quo had to be stopped. So it isn’t difficult to imagine that some Jews saw Jesus as a threat to them and perhaps to the Jewish people as a whole. But the actions of a few should not be blamed on the many. Jesus was Jewish, his followers were Jewish, the crowds that gathered to listen to him preach and that welcomed him into Jerusalem on what is today called Palm Sunday were Jewish. The fact that John’s Gospel blames the Jews as a people for the death of Jesus speaks to the need of the early Church to placate Rome, and has little historical validity vis a vis the Jews.
Why do Jews reject Jesus as the Messiah? The messianic ideal in Judaism is political: the messiah is a human being anointed by God (mashiach in Hebrew means anointed one) to free Israel from occupation, lead all Jews back to their homeland, and establish a just and compassionate state with the Temple at its heart. Jesus did not do of these things, and therefore isn’t the messiah as Jews define the term.
Christianity redefined the meaning of messiah in spiritual terms and placed Jesus’ kingdom outside this world, something that makes Jesus irrelevant to Jews. As the Son of God Jesus comes to redeem us from Original Sin, something Judaism knows nothing about. While it makes perfect sense for those who believe they have Original Sin to want to get rid of it, it is very hard to convince people who do not believe it to seek the cure to a disease they do not have.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Thoughts on Yom Kippur 5770
Yom Kippur, the Day of At-one-ment, is framed in an interesting metaphor. You are standing before the Gates of Righteousness. You are being judged. All your foibles are laid bare for you to see. You are humbled, perhaps ashamed, and you don’t know what to do. The Gates are open. Nothing stops you from entering. Yet you don’t move. You are frozen by your own sense of unworthiness. Then the Gates begin to close. Slowly and steadily until, as our liturgical day closes at sunset, we are reminded, “The Gates are closing. The Gates are closing. Enter! Enter now!”
Tradition tells us that we are to consider ourselves forgiven by God by the close of Yom Kippur, and that we can and have entered the Gates. But it isn’t that easy.
Yom Kippur is a fast day. We fast not to mortify the flesh (skipping breakfast and lunch is hardly a mortification), but to avoid the distractions of dining with others. This is a day for acute introspection not schmoozing with family and friends over a meal.
Our liturgical day begins at sundown with Kol Nidre, All Vows. This is the most famous prayer of Yom Kippur, and originated during the period of forced conversions to Catholicism. More an affirmation than a prayer, Kol Nidre says that any vow we took under duress (i.e. the vow to be a good Catholic and abandon Judaism) is null and void. Over time the origin of the prayer was largely forgotten, and Kol Nidre is now understood to absolve us of all hasty or thoughtless and unkept vows we may have made to ourselves and to God. The idea is to eliminate the need to focus on superfluous failures, and free ourselves to deal with the real errors we have committed.
The second most famous prayer of Yom Kippur is the Viddui, the confession. As a community we confess to twenty-two sins, listed alphabetically one for each letter of the Hebrew alphabet. We confess as a community for the community. While you may be guilty of none of these things, as a member of the community you bear responsibility for all of them.
And now the Gates are closing. If you have truly looked at the quality of your life and how you live it; if you have taken seriously the thirty days of selichot (forgiveness) preceding the High Holy Days and sought forgiveness from family, friends, neighbors, and others, the final moments of Yom Kippur are humbling” “Given all I have done wrong, how can I enter the Gates of Righteousness and be at one with God?”
Yet it is only this subtle narcissism that stands in your way. Only your sense that you are such a great sinner that even God cannot welcome you, keeps you from passing through the Gates. There is no guard. There is nothing stopping you but you. It is never humility that keeps you from entering, only hubris. Yom Kippur is designed to break your heart over the suffering you have caused others. If your heart is broken you have compassion for both self and others, and that is the key to entering the Gates. To be broken before God is to be embraced by God.
May your fast be meaningful this Yom Kippur. And may you be blessed with a broken heart.
Tradition tells us that we are to consider ourselves forgiven by God by the close of Yom Kippur, and that we can and have entered the Gates. But it isn’t that easy.
Yom Kippur is a fast day. We fast not to mortify the flesh (skipping breakfast and lunch is hardly a mortification), but to avoid the distractions of dining with others. This is a day for acute introspection not schmoozing with family and friends over a meal.
Our liturgical day begins at sundown with Kol Nidre, All Vows. This is the most famous prayer of Yom Kippur, and originated during the period of forced conversions to Catholicism. More an affirmation than a prayer, Kol Nidre says that any vow we took under duress (i.e. the vow to be a good Catholic and abandon Judaism) is null and void. Over time the origin of the prayer was largely forgotten, and Kol Nidre is now understood to absolve us of all hasty or thoughtless and unkept vows we may have made to ourselves and to God. The idea is to eliminate the need to focus on superfluous failures, and free ourselves to deal with the real errors we have committed.
The second most famous prayer of Yom Kippur is the Viddui, the confession. As a community we confess to twenty-two sins, listed alphabetically one for each letter of the Hebrew alphabet. We confess as a community for the community. While you may be guilty of none of these things, as a member of the community you bear responsibility for all of them.
And now the Gates are closing. If you have truly looked at the quality of your life and how you live it; if you have taken seriously the thirty days of selichot (forgiveness) preceding the High Holy Days and sought forgiveness from family, friends, neighbors, and others, the final moments of Yom Kippur are humbling” “Given all I have done wrong, how can I enter the Gates of Righteousness and be at one with God?”
Yet it is only this subtle narcissism that stands in your way. Only your sense that you are such a great sinner that even God cannot welcome you, keeps you from passing through the Gates. There is no guard. There is nothing stopping you but you. It is never humility that keeps you from entering, only hubris. Yom Kippur is designed to break your heart over the suffering you have caused others. If your heart is broken you have compassion for both self and others, and that is the key to entering the Gates. To be broken before God is to be embraced by God.
May your fast be meaningful this Yom Kippur. And may you be blessed with a broken heart.
Friday, September 25, 2009
God Knows
I’m on a flight from Nashville to Charlotte, NC. Two guys in the seats across from me are discussing matters of life and death.
“You die when Jesus say you die, man. Life ‘n death is up ta the Lord. When he calls you, you gots to answer.”
“And when is that?”
“Can’t say; don’t know; don’t care. All I do know is that it ain’t in my hands, so I don’ worry ‘bout it.”
“But you do take precautions, like wearing a seatbelt.”
“Never have, never will. The only time I click one o’them suckers is when the cops are close. Look, it don’t matter what you do—seatbelts or no seatbelts—when God wants you dead, you dead.”
Their conversation ended abruptly as the flight attendant ordered the man to buckle his seatbelt for take–off.
I love listening to talk like this. While I certainly have my own positions on matters like these, I really enjoy hearing what other people believe. Most of the time I just listen. This time I butted in.
“So you must be some risk taker, then,” I said.
“What?”
“Sorry, guys, I couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying about death. If your death is determined by God’s plan rather than your actions, it just stands to reason that you could do some wild stuff and not worry about it.”
“Like what?”
“Like jumping off a cliff or out of a airplane without a parachute. Or drinking poison. Or playing Russian Roulette. You’d live through all of this unless God wanted you dead at that moment, in which case even if you were sitting at home watching TV you would suddenly drop dead of a heart attack or something.”
“That’s stupid. Drinking poison’ll kill you.”
“Not if it isn’t your time to die. That’s what you said, isn’t it? You won’t die until God wants you to die. That’s why you don’t where a seatbelt. If you get in a crash you won’t die unless it’s your time to die, and then, seatbelt or no, you would die. So you could do all kinds of reckless things knowing it doesn’t matter.”
“Listen, Bud, we weren’t talkin’ to you, an’ now you jus’ talkin’ stupid.”
I’m not quite sure that is what the man said to me because I was on a roll and wasn’t listening to him. I just took a breath and kept on talking.
“Of course not dying isn’t the worse thing that could happen to you. I mean, it might not be your time to die, but you could go through your windshield in a crash and live out the remainder of your life as a vegetable. But that’s your choice, not God’s, right? Or does God call us to be vegetables also? Maybe he does. Maybe he determines everything that happens to you, so wearing or not wearing your seatbelt isn’t your choice at all, but God’s.”
“Listin, man, God loves you, that’s all I know. An’ if God makes you a vegetable then that’s how he loves you. It ain’t for you ta tell God how to love, is it? All I’m sayin’ is that its all in God’s hands, and not for us ta worry ‘bout. So why don’ you just sit back and buckle your little safety belt an’ let God git on wit it.”
This was my cue to shut up. Too bad I didn’t catch it.
“But what if its God’s will for me to get you to change your way of thinking and start wearing your seatbelt? What if I’m like the Prophet Elijah sent by God to talk to you and here you are telling me to shut up. Would tell the Prophet Elijah to shut up?”
“Are you the Prophet Elijah?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I admitted.
“Then shut the f@ck up!”
He had a point. Next time someone asks me if I’m the Prophet Elijah I’ve got to remember to just say “yes.”
“You die when Jesus say you die, man. Life ‘n death is up ta the Lord. When he calls you, you gots to answer.”
“And when is that?”
“Can’t say; don’t know; don’t care. All I do know is that it ain’t in my hands, so I don’ worry ‘bout it.”
“But you do take precautions, like wearing a seatbelt.”
“Never have, never will. The only time I click one o’them suckers is when the cops are close. Look, it don’t matter what you do—seatbelts or no seatbelts—when God wants you dead, you dead.”
Their conversation ended abruptly as the flight attendant ordered the man to buckle his seatbelt for take–off.
I love listening to talk like this. While I certainly have my own positions on matters like these, I really enjoy hearing what other people believe. Most of the time I just listen. This time I butted in.
“So you must be some risk taker, then,” I said.
“What?”
“Sorry, guys, I couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying about death. If your death is determined by God’s plan rather than your actions, it just stands to reason that you could do some wild stuff and not worry about it.”
“Like what?”
“Like jumping off a cliff or out of a airplane without a parachute. Or drinking poison. Or playing Russian Roulette. You’d live through all of this unless God wanted you dead at that moment, in which case even if you were sitting at home watching TV you would suddenly drop dead of a heart attack or something.”
“That’s stupid. Drinking poison’ll kill you.”
“Not if it isn’t your time to die. That’s what you said, isn’t it? You won’t die until God wants you to die. That’s why you don’t where a seatbelt. If you get in a crash you won’t die unless it’s your time to die, and then, seatbelt or no, you would die. So you could do all kinds of reckless things knowing it doesn’t matter.”
“Listen, Bud, we weren’t talkin’ to you, an’ now you jus’ talkin’ stupid.”
I’m not quite sure that is what the man said to me because I was on a roll and wasn’t listening to him. I just took a breath and kept on talking.
“Of course not dying isn’t the worse thing that could happen to you. I mean, it might not be your time to die, but you could go through your windshield in a crash and live out the remainder of your life as a vegetable. But that’s your choice, not God’s, right? Or does God call us to be vegetables also? Maybe he does. Maybe he determines everything that happens to you, so wearing or not wearing your seatbelt isn’t your choice at all, but God’s.”
“Listin, man, God loves you, that’s all I know. An’ if God makes you a vegetable then that’s how he loves you. It ain’t for you ta tell God how to love, is it? All I’m sayin’ is that its all in God’s hands, and not for us ta worry ‘bout. So why don’ you just sit back and buckle your little safety belt an’ let God git on wit it.”
This was my cue to shut up. Too bad I didn’t catch it.
“But what if its God’s will for me to get you to change your way of thinking and start wearing your seatbelt? What if I’m like the Prophet Elijah sent by God to talk to you and here you are telling me to shut up. Would tell the Prophet Elijah to shut up?”
“Are you the Prophet Elijah?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I admitted.
“Then shut the f@ck up!”
He had a point. Next time someone asks me if I’m the Prophet Elijah I’ve got to remember to just say “yes.”
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Nones Among Us
A major report on American Nones—those people who do not identify with any specific religion—was released today. Sponsored by Trinity College of Hartford, CT, the report reveals that Nones have blossomed over the past years. 15% of Americans identify themselves as Nones, and the number rises to 22% when we look specifically at 18 to 29 year olds. If this holds and the trend continues, Nones may well be 25% of the American population in two more decades.
What makes a None a None? For one thing 61% of Nones believe in evolution while only 38% of Americans in general do. 51% of Nones believe in God or a Higher Power, and slightly more than half of these believers understand God in a nonpersonal way, like the Force or the Tao. Less than 10% of Nones are atheists, but most tend to believe that whatever God is, God doesn’t fit into the neat packages of religion.
Politically Nones are interesting as well. 21% of Independents are Nones, as are 16% of Democrats and 8% of Republicans. This isn’t surprising. Especially when you consider than many Republicans are None Others—hoping to replace all religions with none other than their own.
Another finding that stands out in the report is that unlike every other religious group, there are more male Nones than female Nones. 19% of American men are Nones, while only 14% of American women are Nones. And within the None community there are 60 men Nones to every 40 women Nones.
In essence, Nones are the 21st Century version of the 18th Century Deist and Enlightenment traditions that founded this country. Like Ben Franklin, Tom Jefferson, and Tom Paine Nones are committed to science and reason, and do not see these as opposed to faith.
So what are we to make of this report? I am encouraged by it. Nones are freethinkers, and God knows America needs more of these. Nones are curious and open–minded without being empty-headed. Nones are in favor of religious freedom, and because they are not limited to any one faith, will keep the country free from being controlled by any one faith. If they do become a quarter of the American population they may spark a whole new direction for American spirituality, drawing on the wisdom of all faiths while freeing themselves from the limitations of any one faith.
Is this good for Judaism? Probably not. Judaism survives as long as Jews find it worthy of surviving; that is as long as it continues to provide Jews with a compelling sense of meaning and purpose. However, since Jews make up a large segment of Nones, claiming Jewish cultural heritage without aligning with Judaism the religion, the future of Judaism as a religion may be in trouble. But then it is always in trouble.
How to respond? Rather than write off Jewish Nones, I’d create a Jewish Nonery, a school for Jewish Nones that focuses on culture, language, progressive/prophetic politics, and the genius of the biblical wisdom tradition that embraces doubt, argument, and ambiguity. Will anyone do this? I doubt it. Jewish funders are still looking to revive the past and haven’t a clue how to invent the future.
What makes a None a None? For one thing 61% of Nones believe in evolution while only 38% of Americans in general do. 51% of Nones believe in God or a Higher Power, and slightly more than half of these believers understand God in a nonpersonal way, like the Force or the Tao. Less than 10% of Nones are atheists, but most tend to believe that whatever God is, God doesn’t fit into the neat packages of religion.
Politically Nones are interesting as well. 21% of Independents are Nones, as are 16% of Democrats and 8% of Republicans. This isn’t surprising. Especially when you consider than many Republicans are None Others—hoping to replace all religions with none other than their own.
Another finding that stands out in the report is that unlike every other religious group, there are more male Nones than female Nones. 19% of American men are Nones, while only 14% of American women are Nones. And within the None community there are 60 men Nones to every 40 women Nones.
In essence, Nones are the 21st Century version of the 18th Century Deist and Enlightenment traditions that founded this country. Like Ben Franklin, Tom Jefferson, and Tom Paine Nones are committed to science and reason, and do not see these as opposed to faith.
So what are we to make of this report? I am encouraged by it. Nones are freethinkers, and God knows America needs more of these. Nones are curious and open–minded without being empty-headed. Nones are in favor of religious freedom, and because they are not limited to any one faith, will keep the country free from being controlled by any one faith. If they do become a quarter of the American population they may spark a whole new direction for American spirituality, drawing on the wisdom of all faiths while freeing themselves from the limitations of any one faith.
Is this good for Judaism? Probably not. Judaism survives as long as Jews find it worthy of surviving; that is as long as it continues to provide Jews with a compelling sense of meaning and purpose. However, since Jews make up a large segment of Nones, claiming Jewish cultural heritage without aligning with Judaism the religion, the future of Judaism as a religion may be in trouble. But then it is always in trouble.
How to respond? Rather than write off Jewish Nones, I’d create a Jewish Nonery, a school for Jewish Nones that focuses on culture, language, progressive/prophetic politics, and the genius of the biblical wisdom tradition that embraces doubt, argument, and ambiguity. Will anyone do this? I doubt it. Jewish funders are still looking to revive the past and haven’t a clue how to invent the future.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Thank God for Global Warming!
Thank God for global warming! Seriously. Just yesterday I was a complete supporter of all things anti-greenhouse gases, but today I am a changed man. It turns out that if not for today’s greenhouse gases trapping heat and warming the earth, we would be about to enter another ice age.
Cute cartoon movies aside, a new Ice Age isn’t exactly a walk in Jurassic Park.
According to The New York Times (September 4, 2009) the journal Science is reporting that the earth was heading onto an “inevitable” Ice Age over the next few dozen millennia, but that global warming has put a stop to it. Holy crap!
Just think if we listened to Al Gore and actually stopped burning dead dinosaur goo in our cars and homes—the whole earth would be encased in ice in, what, 20 to 30 thousand years! Talk about caring for our children and our children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s, well you get the idea and I’ve lost count.
So I’m doing my part, and trading in my fuel¬–efficient car for one of the newly placed on the marked clunkers the Ice–loving Obama administration stole form our garages. And I’m cranking up my air–conditioner and putting on a sweater. And I’m driving my car from the top of my driveway to the bottom to pick up the newspaper. And I’m even thinking of burning some old tires in the backyard and having a few friends over for a rubber chicken barbeque. I mean, I’m a patriot, and I love my children and my children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s…. and I will do whatever I can to keep the ice at bay. And you should, too!
What I don’t get is why the Times is still urging people to fight global warming. Even the scientists who discovered the push back of the Ice Age are urging us to fight global warming! What gives? Are they so in love with hockey that they want the whole planet to be one giant hockey rink? Or are they so heavily invested in skiwear that they would rather see Miami freeze than drown?
Dr. Overpeck (his real name, by the way), the author of the study, even calls the Ice Age an “opportunity.” And opportunity for what? To freeze to death? To let polar bears actually drink Coke at the company’s headquarters in Atlanta? What kind of opportunity is it he sees in the end of all life as we know it?
We’ve had 17 ice ages so far. Do you remember any of them? Did anyone alive then write a great novel about them? No. Why? Because they were too cold to hold a pen or tap a keyboard, that’s why! And then they were dead. Frozen to death before they could publish what would surely have been called, the Ice Mountain Cometh.
We’ve only got 30,000 years to prevent this catastrophe, so get with the program, people, and heat this planet up before it’s too late.
Cute cartoon movies aside, a new Ice Age isn’t exactly a walk in Jurassic Park.
According to The New York Times (September 4, 2009) the journal Science is reporting that the earth was heading onto an “inevitable” Ice Age over the next few dozen millennia, but that global warming has put a stop to it. Holy crap!
Just think if we listened to Al Gore and actually stopped burning dead dinosaur goo in our cars and homes—the whole earth would be encased in ice in, what, 20 to 30 thousand years! Talk about caring for our children and our children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s, well you get the idea and I’ve lost count.
So I’m doing my part, and trading in my fuel¬–efficient car for one of the newly placed on the marked clunkers the Ice–loving Obama administration stole form our garages. And I’m cranking up my air–conditioner and putting on a sweater. And I’m driving my car from the top of my driveway to the bottom to pick up the newspaper. And I’m even thinking of burning some old tires in the backyard and having a few friends over for a rubber chicken barbeque. I mean, I’m a patriot, and I love my children and my children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s…. and I will do whatever I can to keep the ice at bay. And you should, too!
What I don’t get is why the Times is still urging people to fight global warming. Even the scientists who discovered the push back of the Ice Age are urging us to fight global warming! What gives? Are they so in love with hockey that they want the whole planet to be one giant hockey rink? Or are they so heavily invested in skiwear that they would rather see Miami freeze than drown?
Dr. Overpeck (his real name, by the way), the author of the study, even calls the Ice Age an “opportunity.” And opportunity for what? To freeze to death? To let polar bears actually drink Coke at the company’s headquarters in Atlanta? What kind of opportunity is it he sees in the end of all life as we know it?
We’ve had 17 ice ages so far. Do you remember any of them? Did anyone alive then write a great novel about them? No. Why? Because they were too cold to hold a pen or tap a keyboard, that’s why! And then they were dead. Frozen to death before they could publish what would surely have been called, the Ice Mountain Cometh.
We’ve only got 30,000 years to prevent this catastrophe, so get with the program, people, and heat this planet up before it’s too late.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Going to Shul?
Rabbi Sid Schwartz concludes his essay on synagogue innovation (Forward, September 18, 2009) this way, “For too many Jews coming to shul on the holidays, the fare will be predictable and will not result in a return visit for another 12 months.” I know Rabbi Schwartz and hold him in high esteem, so I felt more than a twinge of guilt about my not even going to shul for the holy days.
Not that guilt is enough to change my mind. The thought of sitting through a painfully long liturgy reflecting a worldview I rejected decades ago, just keeps me frozen to my seat. Rabbi Schwartz says that we need to make the synagogue experience more compelling. Fair enough. But what would get me out of my house and into a synagogue?
I know what I am supposed to say: a short, well–crafted naturalist liturgy that draws on tradition while honoring science and avoiding supernaturalism; a service punctuated with minutes (rather than moments) of true silence inviting me to realize God rather than talk about God; an honest engagement with Torah that blends cutting edge Bible study (literary, historical, philosophical, etc.) with the mytho-poetic spirituality of scholars and mystics like Joseph Campbell; a sermon that sets out some challenging proposal, and which morphs into an open–ended and passionate discussion among the congregants; and music that is more than just entertaining and professional, but that uses chazanut (cantorial singing), Hebrew chanting, and Hasidic niggunim (melodies) to create opportunities for spiritual awakening and transformation.
That’s what I should say. And I wouldn’t be lying if I said it. But I might be thinking wishfully. The truth is, even if all this were offered, I still might stay home. I wonder if the reason Jews don’t go to shul is that they don’t want to; and that even if it was tailor–made for them, they still might not go.
I may have simply grown too selfish for shul; too fond of solitude to tolerate community; too comfortable with silence to tolerate words; too taken with my own ideas and those of the scholars I read and study to entertain the ideas of others. In short, I may be too full of myself to make room for others. I actually prefer davvenen (praying) alone.
I will get up at dawn tomorrow (Rosh haShanah morning) and walk for miles along the banks of Stones River. I will talk with God, and sing to Her. I will review and give thanks for the year just past, and free myself as best I can to welcome the year about to unfold. I will, Shabbos aside, do tashlich and symbolically toss all I needlessly cling to into the water, inviting freshness into my life. And then I will go home, shower, and study Torah the rest of the day. My minyan (prayer quorum) will be the trees of the forest, and among my rabbis will be Martin Buber and Baruch Spinoza. I will be alone with my books, my thoughts, and my life.
This isn’t very Jewish, I know. And some will think it very sad. But I will be quietly happy. True, if a few people, a minyan even, wanted to join me, I would enjoy that as well. But all the Jews I know will be in shul. Somebody must be doing something right.
Not that guilt is enough to change my mind. The thought of sitting through a painfully long liturgy reflecting a worldview I rejected decades ago, just keeps me frozen to my seat. Rabbi Schwartz says that we need to make the synagogue experience more compelling. Fair enough. But what would get me out of my house and into a synagogue?
I know what I am supposed to say: a short, well–crafted naturalist liturgy that draws on tradition while honoring science and avoiding supernaturalism; a service punctuated with minutes (rather than moments) of true silence inviting me to realize God rather than talk about God; an honest engagement with Torah that blends cutting edge Bible study (literary, historical, philosophical, etc.) with the mytho-poetic spirituality of scholars and mystics like Joseph Campbell; a sermon that sets out some challenging proposal, and which morphs into an open–ended and passionate discussion among the congregants; and music that is more than just entertaining and professional, but that uses chazanut (cantorial singing), Hebrew chanting, and Hasidic niggunim (melodies) to create opportunities for spiritual awakening and transformation.
That’s what I should say. And I wouldn’t be lying if I said it. But I might be thinking wishfully. The truth is, even if all this were offered, I still might stay home. I wonder if the reason Jews don’t go to shul is that they don’t want to; and that even if it was tailor–made for them, they still might not go.
I may have simply grown too selfish for shul; too fond of solitude to tolerate community; too comfortable with silence to tolerate words; too taken with my own ideas and those of the scholars I read and study to entertain the ideas of others. In short, I may be too full of myself to make room for others. I actually prefer davvenen (praying) alone.
I will get up at dawn tomorrow (Rosh haShanah morning) and walk for miles along the banks of Stones River. I will talk with God, and sing to Her. I will review and give thanks for the year just past, and free myself as best I can to welcome the year about to unfold. I will, Shabbos aside, do tashlich and symbolically toss all I needlessly cling to into the water, inviting freshness into my life. And then I will go home, shower, and study Torah the rest of the day. My minyan (prayer quorum) will be the trees of the forest, and among my rabbis will be Martin Buber and Baruch Spinoza. I will be alone with my books, my thoughts, and my life.
This isn’t very Jewish, I know. And some will think it very sad. But I will be quietly happy. True, if a few people, a minyan even, wanted to join me, I would enjoy that as well. But all the Jews I know will be in shul. Somebody must be doing something right.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
L'shanah Tovah
This Friday evening is Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish “New Year” (Rosh/head, ha-shanah/the year). Despite its name, Rosh Hashanah actually falls on the first day of Tishrei, the seventh month of the Hebrew calendar, as ordained in the Torah (Leviticus 23:24). Talk about Jewish Standard Time!
Rabbinic tradition honors Rosh haShanah as the birthday of creation, and as such it is also the birthday of mortality. Not surprisingly then Rosh haShanah’s most distinctive piece of liturgy, Unetanah Tokef (“We proclaim”) focuses on the question “Who shall live and who shall die?” and proceeds with a litany of the ways people can and will die over the coming twelve months: fire, water, famine, etc.
Unetanah Tokef ends with these words: “But repentance, prayer, and charity, can stem the stern decree.” Most people praying the Unetanah Tokef imagine that on Rosh haShanah God writes your name into either the Book of Life or the Book of Death, and to get your name in the former you must apologize to God, beg God’s forgiveness, and offer God cash bribes. Ah, the horrors of folk religion.
The prayer itself is a list of ways people die. It purpose isn’t to scare you, but to get your attention: “Hey! This could be your last year on earth. How do you want to live it? Enslaved to old habits? Obsessed with trivialities? Self¬–absorbed and clinging? Or is this a time to turn, reflect, and let go?”
You are going to die. If not this year, maybe next year, or the year after that. So death isn’t your problem. Your problem is how to live until you die. Unetanah Tokef challenges us to live with teshuvah, tefillah, and tzedakah. Teshuvah, weakly translated as “repentance” literally means “turning,” and is the act of turning from evil and doing good, turning from self to others, turning from fear to love, turning from self to God. Tefillah is prayer, and in Hebrew the act of praying (hitpallel) is reflexive: true prayer is seeing who you really are as the image and likeness of God and then acting accordingly. Acting accordingly means practicing tzedakah. Tzedakah, from tzedek, justice, is the act of uplifting the poor and enfranchising the disenfranchised. The highest form of tzedakah is seeing that people are gainfully employed and self–supporting. Tzedakah means earning your money honestly in a manner than does no harm, and using your money wisely in a manner that does great good.
So on this birthday of humanity, take a moment and remember your mortality, examine your life, and where necessary turn toward a deeper act of generosity.
Rabbinic tradition honors Rosh haShanah as the birthday of creation, and as such it is also the birthday of mortality. Not surprisingly then Rosh haShanah’s most distinctive piece of liturgy, Unetanah Tokef (“We proclaim”) focuses on the question “Who shall live and who shall die?” and proceeds with a litany of the ways people can and will die over the coming twelve months: fire, water, famine, etc.
Unetanah Tokef ends with these words: “But repentance, prayer, and charity, can stem the stern decree.” Most people praying the Unetanah Tokef imagine that on Rosh haShanah God writes your name into either the Book of Life or the Book of Death, and to get your name in the former you must apologize to God, beg God’s forgiveness, and offer God cash bribes. Ah, the horrors of folk religion.
The prayer itself is a list of ways people die. It purpose isn’t to scare you, but to get your attention: “Hey! This could be your last year on earth. How do you want to live it? Enslaved to old habits? Obsessed with trivialities? Self¬–absorbed and clinging? Or is this a time to turn, reflect, and let go?”
You are going to die. If not this year, maybe next year, or the year after that. So death isn’t your problem. Your problem is how to live until you die. Unetanah Tokef challenges us to live with teshuvah, tefillah, and tzedakah. Teshuvah, weakly translated as “repentance” literally means “turning,” and is the act of turning from evil and doing good, turning from self to others, turning from fear to love, turning from self to God. Tefillah is prayer, and in Hebrew the act of praying (hitpallel) is reflexive: true prayer is seeing who you really are as the image and likeness of God and then acting accordingly. Acting accordingly means practicing tzedakah. Tzedakah, from tzedek, justice, is the act of uplifting the poor and enfranchising the disenfranchised. The highest form of tzedakah is seeing that people are gainfully employed and self–supporting. Tzedakah means earning your money honestly in a manner than does no harm, and using your money wisely in a manner that does great good.
So on this birthday of humanity, take a moment and remember your mortality, examine your life, and where necessary turn toward a deeper act of generosity.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Religious Freedom—Gotta Love It
The Tennessee legislature just passed a law, the Religious Freedom Restoration Act that prohibits the state from “substantially burdening a person’s free exercise of religion.” I had no idea the State of Tennessee was placing burdens on my free exercise of religion. In fact, given the First Amendment to the US Constitution, I didn’t think the state could restrict my freedom of religion. But I am sure my legislators know best.
This certainly seems to have been the case in the great state of Texas, which passed a similarly worded bill and now has to repeal city ordinances that prohibit animal sacrifice within city limits. And the Washington D.C. fire department, adhering to a similar law effecting them, was forced to allow firefighters to grow beards if their religions demanded it despite the fact that facial hair erupts in a giant ball of fire when a bearded firefighter gets too close to open flames.
But then Tennessee isn’t Texas or D.C. We’ve also just passed a law that allows us to carry guns almost anywhere we want. For some of us guns and God go together, so I can see why the legislature went for both bills. Lots of us down here believe that God obligates us to kill the infidel and nonbeliever, so you can see where this is going to lead: “I asked him to convert before I shot him, Judge. It ain’t my fault he refused. I’m just practicing my religion.”
Of course the mainstream religions will probably be satisfied with sacrificing animals in public and having the faces of a few firefighters burned off. But there are other believers who should take advantage of this law. Sun worshippers, for example, should demand that nude dining at outdoor cafes be allowed during sunny daylight hours. And pastafarian followers of the Giant Spaghetti Monster should demand the outlawing of pasta eating as an affront to their faith. And Hindus might do the same for meat eating. They might even let their cows free in town, making it a violation of their religious freedom to have them rounded up.
But the real fun is going to come when someone realizes they can invent a new religion to take advantage of the law. Any thoughts on how we could exploit this marvelous piece of legislation?
This certainly seems to have been the case in the great state of Texas, which passed a similarly worded bill and now has to repeal city ordinances that prohibit animal sacrifice within city limits. And the Washington D.C. fire department, adhering to a similar law effecting them, was forced to allow firefighters to grow beards if their religions demanded it despite the fact that facial hair erupts in a giant ball of fire when a bearded firefighter gets too close to open flames.
But then Tennessee isn’t Texas or D.C. We’ve also just passed a law that allows us to carry guns almost anywhere we want. For some of us guns and God go together, so I can see why the legislature went for both bills. Lots of us down here believe that God obligates us to kill the infidel and nonbeliever, so you can see where this is going to lead: “I asked him to convert before I shot him, Judge. It ain’t my fault he refused. I’m just practicing my religion.”
Of course the mainstream religions will probably be satisfied with sacrificing animals in public and having the faces of a few firefighters burned off. But there are other believers who should take advantage of this law. Sun worshippers, for example, should demand that nude dining at outdoor cafes be allowed during sunny daylight hours. And pastafarian followers of the Giant Spaghetti Monster should demand the outlawing of pasta eating as an affront to their faith. And Hindus might do the same for meat eating. They might even let their cows free in town, making it a violation of their religious freedom to have them rounded up.
But the real fun is going to come when someone realizes they can invent a new religion to take advantage of the law. Any thoughts on how we could exploit this marvelous piece of legislation?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)