A New Philosophy

Yom Kippur

Anewphilosophy — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 11:50:20 GMT

So I'm fasting for Yom Kippur today, which might seem a little weird, since I'm not Jewish. I'm sure that people at work will act confused about it, just like people at work were confused by my Christian seder. I hope no one is offended by my tendency to engage in religious traditions that aren't really mine.

But hey— atonement is always a good thing, right? And really, I've just always wanted to fast before. It seems like such a good test of patience and endurance, and such a good reminder of what we all take for granted. I like how a day of fasting works, too: it's an intense experience, but it's also not as friggin' long as Lent, which means I'm much less likely to forget that I'm fasting over a single day than, say, completely forget that I'm supposed to be giving sugar up for Lent, and only remember AFTER I've eaten a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

Sigh.

Waiting For God

Anewphilosophy — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 06:18:07 GMT

One of the reasons I find it so hard to understand the Christian right is because we really are working from two completely different ways of looking at the world. We may read the same Bible (although we clearly take different passages to heart), but liberal Christians like me see morality and theology and society in such vastly different ways than fundamentalists do, and it can make it hard to relate to one another.

Take marriage, for example. Today I happened to be enjoying, with a kind of horrified delight, the website of the dreadful Duggars, a family of eighteen children (by the way, they're expecting their nineteenth soon). As I browsed their website and the website of their son and daughter-in-law (who recently married and are now expecting a child as well), I found that in many instances I had a really hard time understanding what they were talking about. Like, I don't just mean I didn't understand their political and religious opinions— I mean I literally couldn't understand what they were trying to say when they typed out the words.

Part of the misunderstanding, I think, tends to be due to language; I hate to make a sweeping generalization or anything, but I often find that Christian fundamentalists have difficulty with precision and accuracy of language. They use phrases that sound positive or attractive without actually stopping to think about what they're really saying: "radiant purity," or "purposeful singleness,” or this sentence (an excerpt from a description of a teen book about "staying pure"): “Sarah Mally challenges young ladies to turn to the Lord for fulfillment, to guard their hearts and minds, to identify and avoid the world's thinking, and to shine brightly in this generation.” What the hell does “shine brightly in this generation” even MEAN? Sounds to me like someone wanted to finish off the book description quickly, and was searching for something with a general air of upliftedness without thinking about what the words would mean when they were placed together like that. Generic feel-good sentences may sound wholesome and all, but they don’t really hold a lot of meaning; the problem with clichés is that they lose their value with senseless repetition, and it seems that no one managed to tell this to the Promise Keepers.

But beyond the language issue, I think fundamentalists tend to look at things in a way that is completely outside my realm of experience. Take Pamela’s Prayer, a film suggested by the Duggars, and one that is easily accessible by way of YouTube. The film is basically an episode of Mystery Science Theatre waiting to happen, but beyond the 1980s hair and clothes (the film was made in 1998, by the way) and the absurd dialogue (“Do you know what a Christian film library is?”), the film sets forth some of the more disturbing ways in which fundamentalist Christians think about sex and marriage.

Because, you see, sixteen-year-old Pamela isn’t just being told not to have sex before marriage— her father forbids her from dating, or from kissing, or basically from sharing the same room with a boy alone. Pamela’s job is to listen, unquestioningly and adoringly, to every single thing her father tells her, and to obey his every command (or else bad things will happen to her— like a boy at school will tell everyone she’s a Kiss Slut!) At its heart, Pamela’s Prayer reveals the way in which many fundamentalist Christians view marriage, not as an equal partnership, but as a transfer of responsibilities and authority from father to husband. It’s about keeping the men in control, and really, it relegates hundreds of years of hard-fought gender equality to the No Man’s Land of “evil popular culture.”

When Frederick, the enterprising young man who works for Pamela’s father, wants to ask Pam to come for a drive with him in his car, does he ask HER if she’d like to do that? No, he asks her father— with the careless caveat “if it’s okay with Pamela” thrown in to appease her delicate feminine pride. When Fred wants to marry Pam (neither of whom apparently want to attend college or have rewarding careers after their high school graduation), he seems to barely know her. And in any case, he doesn’t ask her to marry him— he asks her dad if the marriage is okay. And when the proposal is finally made t Pam herself, she can’t even squeak out a “yes, I’d like that very much,” without waiting for daddy’s nod of approval. Even on her wedding night, we see Pam calling her dad up for one last over-the-phone prayer, as though she needs his blessing for the transfer of his power over her to be complete.

Of course, this film is extreme, and I doubt there are too many Christian parents who would truly begrudge their children a little high school smooching. But, as with the abortion law I discussed a few weeks ago, the problem I have is not that this extremism is widely accepted, but that its fundamental values— the values of patriarchal control and sexual subjugation— are the source for many of the religious right’s seemingly milder beliefs. No, not a lot of Christian parents are screening Pamela’s Prayer for their kids— but the recently popular phenomenon of purity balls, which feature young girls in white gowns pledging their purity to their fathers, draw on the same logic and belief system as this amusingly backwards little film. The film's message may seem extreme, but really, it’s a lot like what a world dominated by Christian fundamentalists would look like, if their values were allowed to be carried to their logical conclusions.

And you know, it’s not just about patriarchal control of the family; the ways in which the fundamentalist patriarchy asserts control doesn’t just stop with individual families or even larger societies. To my mind, the issue of allowing oneself to be controlled is something that I think is mirrored in the fundamentalists’ relationships with God, as well. Listening to evangelicals talk, I hear a lot of things like “surrender to God,” “offer it up to Jesus,” or “let God do the talking.” Reading the story of Joshua and Anna Duggar, I was a little concerned by how often they each talked of waiting for God to tell them who to marry, of remaining static and inactive while God sent them the perfect partner instead of looking for him/her on their own.

But I mean— is that really how God works? Every day, millions of children who think they understand how praying works pray for things they’ll never get: ponies, baby brothers, new parents, PlayStation games. Meanwhile, their parents pray for things they need but don’t know how to find: jobs, food, shelter, health. From a fundamentalist’s perspective: if God doesn’t give us what we ask for, what does that mean? If we “leave it up to God” and pray for the perfect partner, and then God never “sends” us someone to love, is it because we didn’t pray hard enough? Is it because we didn’t deserve it? Is it because God doesn’t want us to be happy— because our need for companionship doesn’t fit in with God’s all-knowing, seemingly perfect plan for the world?

As I’ve said before, I don’t believe praying for things makes them happen. I believe prayer is a means of comfort and understanding, not a way to make things happen, or to even ask them to happen. And part of the reason I think that is this: my relationship to God could never be one in which I simply “submit,” like a kicked dog with a broken spirit, and wait for good things to happen to me. Sometimes, when I’m scared or confused or disappointed, I’ll remind myself that opportunities can be hidden, and many wonderful things can be waiting down a dark and lonely road. But in the end, I can’t just wait for things to happen, because God doesn’t just give you things. As far as I can figure, he doesn’t work that way, and I’m glad, because if this was all a matter of waiting for the inevitable, where’s our free will? And with it, our will to live, and to hope?

Adam is fond of saying, “God doesn’t make things happen— he simply provides the opportunity for things to happen.” God doesn’t save people from plane crashes or send angels into burning buildings, for the same reason he doesn’t kill babies in third world countries or send men out to die in horrible wars. All of these situations, and all of those results, were created by people— the airplanes, the guns, the well-placed fire escape or poorly timed elevator ride. But God gave us our minds, so that we could figure out how to overcome the challenges of our confusing and evolving world, and he gave us our hearts, so we could learn how to help one another instead of waiting for pillars of fire to light our way. And he gave us this universe— its glorious roominess, its solid matter, the wonderful framework of space-time through which we’re all sailing every day— to work out how to do things better, or how to appreciate them more, whether or no we believe in him or even like him.

So I’d say: don't just “offer it up” or “leave it to God” and then forget about it, assuming that it’s resolved. You have two hands, and a voice box, and a heart that, no matter who you are, usually wants to do the right thing, so use them. And use your head, too, because God never just tell us what to do; he gives us some confusing and contradictory hints, and then left us to figure them out ourselves. It may be comforting to believe that we can just leave everything up to God, but it's not practical, and it's not fair to God, either. What you do, whom you love, how you live your life, has everything to do with figuring out your own relationships, and nothing to do with being taught the “right” way to live and executing those directions flawlessly. I need God, but you might not, and that’s okay, because I believe we all have the capacity to find our own happiness, our own contentment, in our own time and through our own methods.

Although really, it might be better for everyone if those methods didn’t include calling your dad on your wedding night. EWWW.

Go Lutherans

Anewphilosophy — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 03:11:19 GMT

A New Philosophy would like to give an official thumbs up to the Lutherans, who voted today to allow openly gay and lesbian ministers to serve in their church! Previously, the church had only allowed gays and lesbians to serve if they remained celibate, but now the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America has voted to allow gays and lesbians who are sexually active (i.e., within a committed relationship) to enter the ministry.

The end of the above article made me really happy and proud:

"The Rev. Katrina Foster, a pastor in the Metropolitan New York Synod, pointed out that the church has ordained woman and divorced people in violation of a literal interpretation of scripture.

'We can learn not to define ourselves by negation,' Foster said. 'By not only saying what we are against, which always seems to be the same — against gay people. We should be against poverty. I wish we were as zealous about that.'"

Right on, Rev. Foster-- and right on, Lutherans!

Cheering on the Church!

Anewphilosophy — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 04:13:24 GMT

I'd like to give a big old shout-out to the Episcopal Church for taking two big steps at the General Convention this week! First of all, we began the process for creating service templates to bless same-sex unions; secondly, we ended that silly moratorium on consecrating new gay bishops, which we'd put upon ourselves at the last Convention.

The moratorium was stupid; it pissed off the majority of the Episcopal Church, and it didn't even appease the small minority that it was meant to appease, because they won't be appeased unless we rescind the right of gay people to become priests altogether. And obviously we won't do that, because that would be pretty stupid and mean, not to mention petty.

So I'm glad we did what we did. But what really got to me was this quote from Zach Brown, a delegate to the conference from the Diocese of Upper South Carolina who urged the delegates NOT to lift the moratorium:

"Please don't vote in a way that makes more conservatives feel the way I do now: like I'm the only one left."

And it occurred to me that what bothered me was the "I" in the statement. How did this guy take an issue about other people's happiness and turn it into something about HIM— how HE feels, what HE wants? If you're not gay, IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU. If you're straight and you don't like the idea of gay people serving Jesus, then THAT'S YOUR PROBLEM. DEAL WITH IT.

Anyways, I applaud the Convention's decision, and I'm especially happy that the vote tally didn't seem close at all. It was an overwhelming affirmation of gay rights, and I'm proud to be a member of such a church.

But I'm getting kind of sick of all this posturing in order to appease the Archbishop of Canterbury. He doesn't actually have any power in the Episcopal Church; he's the head of the Church of England, not our church. So where does he get off telling us what to do? You know what, Mr. Archbishop? We don't actually NEED you to function. Go ahead, kick us out of the Anglican Communion. We have over two million members, dude, and plenty of cash. We'd love to be your friends, but we're not going to oppress other people in order to impress the Cool Kids in the Communion.

If you don't like us anymore, Mr. Archbishop, that's fine. We'll just keep loving you— and loving our gay brothers and sisters, as well. We have enough love to go around!

We All Have Work To Do

Anewphilosophy — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 04:01:06 GMT

Jimmy Carter has quit the Southern Baptists, and says it because some Southern Baptist leaders use Scripture to subjugate women.

In his statements on the subject, Carter made a number of wonderful points, and explained that the repugnant use of religious texts to justify the oppression of women isn't unique to Southern Baptists, or even to Christianity— that it can be seen in almost every religious tradition.

Here's my favorite quote from the statement:

"Although not having training in religion or theology, I understand that the carefully selected verses found in the holy scriptures to justify the superiority of men owe more to time and place - and the determination of male leaders to hold onto their influence - than eternal truths. Similar Biblical excerpts could be found to support the approval of slavery and the timid acquiescence to oppressive rulers."

Carter's position on female empowerment made me think about my own faith. While most Episcopalians are pretty freethinking types, there are still a few stubborn old coots who resent the fact that the Church ordains women, and that our elected spiritual leader (Katharine Jefferts Schori) is a woman. In thinking about these sexist attitudes, I'm reminded that we ALL have work to do, in every faith tradition, to ensure that we keep moving towards equality and love. Even Episcopalians, who have certainly come a bit further than some other traditions I could name, have our fair share of work to do.

It's important to keep challenging, keep questioning, and keep insisting on equality.

Undercover In Jesusland

Anewphilosophy — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 11:04:23 GMT

While I surely resent him for having written a much-anticipated book while still in college, I also really have to admire Kevin Roose for going undercover at Liberty University in order to write The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner's Semester at America's Holiest University.

In order to better understand Christian fundamentalism, Roose took a semester off from his studies at Brown and took courses at the Jerry Falwell-founded university— including Evangelism 101 and History of Life (a creationist biology course). He took part in extracurricular activities, including dropping in on a support group for chronic masturbators. And, of course, he abided by Liberty’s student code of conduct, which forbids drinking, smoking, dancing, cursing, R-rated movies— and hugs lasting longer than three seconds. Sheesh— I couldn’t LIVE without bear hugs!

What’s interesting, though, is that Roose really did seem to want to understand fundamentalism— not just make fun of it. I always love an open, honest look at the Christian right; after all, one of my favorite films ever is Hell House, a fairly unvarnished documentary about a Texas church that tries to scare people into believing in Jesus.

Not only do these things speak for themselves (like in Hell House, where all you need to know about some of these folks’ worldviews is told by their inability to distinguish a Star of David from a pentagram), they also help people to understand that not all Christians think alike. It’s important, I think, for non-religious folks to be able to recognize that religion in and of itself is not this evil, corrupting thing. When you see nice people doing nice things in these documentary books and movies, you begin to think, "Hey, maybe they're trying to do the right thing, even if they're failing at it spectacularly."

See, religion can be a vehicle for great suffering, like with the Inquisition and the Taliban and all those silly parts of Leviticus that try to insist that wearing garments made from two different types of cloth makes you unclean for seven days. But religion can also be a vehicle for kindness and compassion and social change: my church’s soup kitchen, Desmond Tutu, my husband’s journey from aimless, womanizing party boy to serious, loving, responsible husband and priest.

Yes, religion is a crutch— but the effect it has on the world depends on the one who wields it. In the hands of someone who is already cruel, it becomes a prop for misinformation, for fear, for division. In the hands of someone who loves, however, it supports that love, sustaining a sickening body or a disillusioned heart where nothing else could have managed.

I don’t mean to minimize the evils that have been done in the name of God— those evils are many, and every person of faith should know them and recognize them and work hard to ensure that they never happen again. But I do get tired of hearing that religion is this horrible thing that corrupts everyone it touches. People who misuse religion are opportunists; people who do terrible things in the name of God are using that God as their excuse, not their inspiration. If they didn’t have religion, they’d use something else— government, brute strength, technology.

And so I’m interested to read this book, because it sounds like this guy really understands these things. He really does seem to realize that within Christianity, there are some useful concepts, a few things that DO make the world a better place— love thy neighbor, do not kill, let he who has not sinned cast the first stone.

Roose made an effort to understand the world of Liberty University, and I salute him. If only more conservative Christians would make an effort to understand his world— and the world that us liberal Christians inhabit— we might all be able to find common ground, after all.

And all this makes me want to write a book.

Polish Priests and Sex?

Anewphilosophy — Thu, 14 May 2009 22:01:33 GMT

Get this: a (celibate) Polish priest has just published sex manual entitled Sex As You Don't Know It: For Married Couples Who Love God. The guy claims that, although he's never actually HAD SEX, his experience with marriage counseling and running his own sex advice website for a year have given him the necessary insight into such a topic. Right.

Now, I'm cool with this guy emphasizing healthy sexuality in marriage. He's correct when he says that too many people automatically imagine sex in general as immoral and married sex as dull and infrequent, so while I'm skeptical about his credentials (I mean, how would he like it if I wrote a manual about how to be a good Catholic priest?), I'm willing to overlook them on the basis of his seemingly good intentions.

THIS is what actually bothers me about the book: in it, this priest discourages the use of contraceptives within marriage, saying that they "lead a married couple outside of Catholic culture and into a completely different lifestyle."

Um...what?!

Okay, I understand why these folks dislike advertising condom use in general; they seem to think that encouraging such use will foster sexual relations between unmarried persons, and the Catholic Church dislikes that sort of thing. Now, that argument is kind of weird, given the fact that 1) people have been having sex since the dawn of time and you're not going to stop their biological impulses with a bunch of dour looks, and 2) every study EVER has shown that encouraging condom use does NOT promote an increase in sexual activity. But at least I understand their logic, even if I think that logic is Ayn Rand-esque.

But here's where I can't even follow this type of thinking at all, because that logic (such as it is) doesn't transfer over to married couples. How can the supposed ability of condoms to promote increased sexual activity be a bad thing if you're writing a book that ENCOURAGES SEXUAL ACTIVITY?

Furthermore, if his line of thinking means that condoms could conceivably encourage infidelity outside of marriage— how does that speak for the importance, stability, and sanctity of the institution? C'mon— if your marriage is so weak that wearing a condom is going to make you yell, "Yesss! Now I can go plow other chicks!" or "Yay, now my husband won't get that disease I'm going to contract from sleeping with my ex!", your marriage is pretty damn weak.

And most importantly, it makes the Catholic Church's (admittedly fragmented and controversial) disapproval of same-sex marriage seem even sillier. How can you claim that heterosexual marriage is the stable rock upon which society is built if it's so unstable that a simple "Honey, I want to get an IUD" can tear it to shreds? In this context, wouldn't same-sex marriage be the IDEAL marriage: the marriage that results in zero unplanned pregnancies without the use of a single birth control pill?

Personally, I always thought that a big part of Christianity was responsibility— to your neighbor, to your community, to the poor, to God. And using birth control is RESPONSIBLE— certainly more responsible than having a million kids you can't afford. Tell me Jesus would have a problem with that.

Or alternatively, tell it to my great-grandmother, a devout Catholic who raised nine kids on a coal-miner's salary. She disliked her husband (they were married when she was only 16— she'd never met him, and she'd only agreed to the arranged marriage if he'd pay her way to America from Slovakia— and they married on the pier where she disembarked without ever having set eyes on one another before), and she disliked having so many children. My grandfather was poor ALL THE TIME; eventually, he dropped out of high school to lie about his age and dig ditches for the CCC, although he was caught within a few months and sent home to return to school. They had dirt floors and not enough to eat, and it was definitely not the sort of experience you'd wish on any of your kids.

My great-aunt Lucy once told me about how my great-grandmother didn't really want those last few kids, but they kept showing up anyways. She was tired of being a mom, but she had no way to stop it; if you were married, that meant your husband could have sex with you whenever he wanted, and you couldn't do much about it. As Catholics, they were expected to have sex within marriage, but they had no way of stopping the flow of children, even though each subsequent child made things worse for the previous ones.

To me, my great-grandmother's story isn't just a reminder of why you shouldn't marry strange men who offer you tickets to faraway countries; it's also a reminder of how important it is not to hide your head in the sand when it comes to other people's lives. Priests see suffering all the time; they are often placed in situations where they are surrounded by the poor, the sick, the hungry, the lonely, the trapped. And if you have the opportunity to make life better for someone, then I assert that, if you are also a Christian, it is your God-given duty to try and help him or her out. You can't just do the stuff that feels safe and ignore the stuff that makes you uncomfortable, either, because Jesus is all about moving you out of your comfort zone, and forcing you to recognize the world for what it really is. If condoms can help people, USE THEM.

So here's my message to this Polish dude: nice idea, but maybe you're not the best person for the job. Maybe leave that to an Episcopal priest. After all, they're allowed to 1) have sex 2) with condoms. They're also allowed to be WOMEN, which means they might have a teensy bit more insight into the fears and dangers that accompany a potential pregnancy. Oh, wait— there are lots of denominations like that, not just Episcopalians.

I'm waiting for a sex manual from the Episcopal Church. It'd probably be titled, "Sex: Do Whatever You Want, As Long As No One Gets Hurt, But Make Sure To Include Some Wine, Because We Like Wine...Mmmmmm, Wine."

Maybe I'll write it myself. :P

Seders and Easter Eggs

Anewphilosophy — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 08:18:31 GMT

The first annual Walker-McCluskey Family Seder Meal went so well! Since I grew up celebrating seders (I'm not Jewish, but we lived in Squirrel Hill, a Jewish neighborhood in Pittsburgh, and my parents were always into celebrating with the neighbors), I've always jumped at the chance to enjoy them, and so Adam made me a seder-inspired spread last night for Passover!

Clockwise, from far left: salad made from romaine lettuce (a.k.a., our interpretation of maror), celery (for the karpas), and hard-boiled egg (beitzah); homemade matzoh; the apple and cinnamon and nuts stuff (I forget what it's called but it's AWESOME); lamb shank (z'roa; why just use the bone when you can EAT THE WHOLE LAMB?); and a delicious dipping sauce for the matzoh.

Adam worked so hard to make this dinner for me! He's so cute.

And of course, we had to dye Easter eggs beforehand. :)

Surprisingly, I actually got crap for this from someone at work today, who huffed, "I thought you were a Christian," and then seemed awfully shocked when I explained that I had been raised by my parents to be open to all sorts of religious experiences, and that as a child I had participated in many different religious traditions just because I wanted to know them better.

It's like, really? Is this really so surprising to so many people? For one thing, even Wikipedia acknowledges that in recent years, many Christians have been celebrating Passover as a way to get in touch with the cultural roots of their religion. After all, Christianity was originally just a sect of Judaism— the only holiday we ever see Jesus celebrating in the Bible is Passover, and if it was good enough for Jesus, it's good enough for me.

But more importantly— who cares what you celebrate? I'm so thankful to have been raised by parents who left the religious decisions up to me and me alone, who refused to force me into any faith I didn't want to explore. Indoctrination isn't faith— it's brainwashing. You can't really have faith unless you've chosen it, and if there's only one option presented, that's not much of a choice.

That's what I want for my son or daughter— the ability to question, to experiment with spirituality, and to struggle to know God. How can you have solid faith if you've never really thought about what you believe— and how can you really think about your faith without questioning it?

My kid will be allowed to pray any way he or she wants— or to skip prayer, if he or she wants to do so, because my child will be allowed to be an atheist, too. Yes, my husband's a priest, and I'm a devout Christian— but those were OUR choices, not our child's. Everyone is different, and I'm not about to go making those sorts of choices for my baby.

Of course, with my husband's line of work and all, church will be a big part of my son or daughter's life— and that's fine, because churches can provide a great atmosphere for kids. However, I'm always going to be clear about the fact that these are things that mommy and daddy believe, but that some people think differently, and that my son or daughter is going to have to make up her/her own mind someday.

Philosophy Walker: Poll Respondent

Anewphilosophy — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 09:03:51 GMT

Last week, I finally fulfilled a dream I've had since I was a young child:

I participated in a major nationwide news/opinion poll!

That's right: have you seen that new Newsweek poll? The one that apparently heralds the end of religion in America? I was SO TOTALLY PART OF THAT.

Interestingly enough, they called me at work, but I wasn't about to let temporary employment prevent me from living the dream. So I answered all the questions calmly and promptly, even if I had the urge to scream "TOO MUCH INFLUENCE!" when asked about the effect of the evangelical movement on the Republican Party.

It was nice to have my voice heard, particularly as people are always talking about those mouthy born-agains and ignoring the fact that there are LIBERAL CHRISTIANS out there. Y'know, people with a liberal social agenda, who want to help the poor and the lonely and the sick and the marginalized— since that was kind of the POINT OF JESUS' MINISTRY and all. It's so nice that they finally got to include a liberal Christian in the mix— even if it apparently led them to conclude that there are now more atheists than Episcopalians in this country. Um, yay for being a religious minority, I guess?

The best part was when the pollster asked me what I religion I follow, and I answered, "I'm an Episcopalian," and she was quiet for a second and then said, "Um, is that, like, a Christian?"

And I was tempted to say, "Of course not! We like the gays and know that fetuses aren't people, so naturally, we're heretics, and we run around baying at the moon and painting our bodies with the blood of virgins." But in the end, I went with: "Yes."

"Is that a Protestant denomination?" she continued.

"Well, it's Anglican," I said. "I mean, we're not Catholic, but we're not part of Martin Luther's crowd. We left that party with Henry the Eighth, remember? Anne Boleyn? Elizabeth I? Heads being chopped off and all that?"

"Sooo...Protestant?"

I sighed. "Sure," I said. "Sure. Protestant."

(It's actually an interesting poll, and an interesting article. You should check them out— and not just because I was a part of them. :P)

I Am An Episcopalian

Anewphilosophy — Wed, 25 Mar 2009 09:15:36 GMT

Since I'm pretty open (and somewhat loudmouthed!) about my religion, a lot of people have asked me about being an Episcopalian— what it means to be one, how you become one, and what it's like to be involved with the church.

Thus, I direct you to I Am An Episcopalian, a new site set up by the church to help people share their love of our religious community.

I particularly like the text that accompanies the videos:

The Episcopal Church is a big, colorful, vibrant church. We hope you will see that in the wide spectrum of its members represented here on this site.

In our Church you may touch ancient traditions and experience intelligent inquiry. It is an expansive Church, a loving Church, with strong ties to our roots as a nation. We are a thoughtful, inquiring, freedom-loving and welcoming body, and we thrive not only in the U.S., but also throughout Latin America, Asia and Europe.

We invite you to see and hear the very personal reasons we choose to be Episcopalians. Our controversies and conversations have been public. Our governance is transparent. You are free to see our imperfections, as well as share our joy in that which unites us - our openness, honesty and faith.

One of the things I love about my church is the openness— the ability to ask questions. In fact, questioning and debating and differing aren't just encouraged; they're practically required.

Last week, we had a "supply priest" (like a guest rector), since our usual priest just retired. The priest's sermon was basically this: "A lot of things in the Bible aren't literally true, since that worldview (that women are chattel, that the sun revolves around the earth, etc.) has been disproved. That's why Christ came— to bridge the gap between old and new. Now, we have to find a way to bring the love of Christ into this new century in a way that works with science and compassion and reality. How should we do this?" He ended with that question.

I love a sermon that ends with a question. That's why I'm an Episcopalian.

A Lenten Meditation

Anewphilosophy — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 11:31:35 GMT

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, a day that begins the Christian season of Lent. Lent is a season that is usually difficult for me— mostly because I'm terrible at being somber. Funny biblical passages make me smile, hymns with awkward words make me titter, and I have been known to spontaneously burst into tears during prayer. In short, I'm a passionate and intense person, and the muted colors and quiet inward reflection of Lent have always made this season a struggle for me.

This year, my difficulty is doubled, as I have actually chosen to give up something for Lent. In the Episcopal Church, Lenten fasting or abstention is completely optional; you can make your own fasting rules, or you can forgo the whole thing altogether. This year, my mom is giving up alcohol for Lent; my husband is giving nothing up, but three years ago, his Lenten abstention from cigarettes helped him quit for good.

Me? I'm giving up chocolate. It sounds like a small thing, but you've got to remember that I normally eat at least a small amount of chocolate every single day— I love the stuff! I have it in my coffee, my cookies, my candies, my cakes...everything. And of course, yesterday, on the first day of my choco-fast, someone at work gave me an entire bag of Dove chocolate eggs. BAH! Those little foil-wrapped delights now torment me daily.

But I think this will be good for me— not because God wants me to suffer or anything, but because it never hurts to remember how fortunate I am. I mean, there are some people in the world (many of them!) who have never even tasted chocolate; they've never had anything but what they could steal or beg from someone else, and not very much of that, even.

We Episcopalians give up for Lent to improve our self-discipline (rarely a bad thing), but more importantly, we give up for Lent to remind ourselves of how much work we still have ahead of us as Christians: how there is always someone sadder, colder, hungrier, lonelier, angrier, or more frightened than we are, and how it is our duty to try and help them. And during this scary economic crisis, it's ever more important to remind ourselves of the blessings we DO have, instead of longing for the things out of our reach.

Lent is a humbling experience, and God knows I could use some humility.

Hug Me, I'm An Episcopalian!

Anewphilosophy — Sat, 07 Feb 2009 12:08:25 GMT

I'm a little late here, but did you know that today (Friday the 6th) in National Hug An Episcopalian Day?

So go out and hug your favorite Episcopalian/Anglican right now. Well, maybe not right now, since it's eleven at night, at least here in Ohio— but maybe observe the holiday tomorrow instead. And while you're at it, maybe check out the incredibly awesome Episcopal Church.

Episcopalians at the Inauguration!

Anewphilosophy — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 00:07:35 GMT

Remember how so many of us were irked at the selection of Rick Warren to give the inaugural invocation?

Well, now they're having an Episcopal bishop, our very own Bishop Robertson of New Hampshire, give a prayer as well! Well, not at the actual ceremony, but at one of the events, anyways.

Did I mention that the Rt. Rev. Robertson (mmm, alliteration!) is the first openly gay bishop in the Church, and is pretty much the reason the conservative congregations got mad and left us?

So this should balance things out a little more: an anti-gay preacher and an openly gay bishop, both praying for the same reason, in the same spirit of celebration.

And Robertson is doing his best to be inclusive:

"Robinson said he doesn't yet know what he'll say, but he knows he won't use a Bible.

'While that is a holy and sacred text to me, it is not for many Americans,' Robinson said. 'I will be careful not to be especially Christian in my prayer. This is a prayer for the whole nation.'"

Yet another reason why I love the Episcopal Church. :)

Christian Tolerance

Anewphilosophy — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 00:42:00 GMT

I found this article quite heartening-- despite a recent rise in Christian fundamentalism in the US, between 65 and 70 percent of Americans today believe that religions other than their own could lead to heaven and eternal life.

In July, the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life put out a study that said that 70% of adults in the US felt this way; evangelical leaders insisted that the study was a fluke, so in August the Pew did the study all over again, this time with more pointed questions that would be sure to clear up any confusion the original questions caused. This time, 65% said that belief in their religion was not necessary for eternal life.

The above article lists several explanations for this cheerful outcome. One way to explain the results is to assume that most Americans just want good things to happen to good people:

"As Alan Segal, a professor of religion at Barnard College told me: 'We are a multicultural society, and people expect this American life to continue the same way in heaven.' He explained that in our society, we meet so many good people of different faiths that it’s hard for us to imagine God letting them go to hell. In fact, in the most recent survey, Pew asked people what they thought determined whether a person would achieve eternal life. Nearly as many Christians said you could achieve eternal life by just being a good person as said that you had to believe in Jesus."

The second explanation is that many Christians (like me!) just don't view their religion as inflexible and absolute:

"According to Pew’s August survey, only 39 percent of Christians believe that the Bible is the literal word of God, and 18 percent think that it’s just a book written by men and not the word of God at all. In fact, on the question in the Pew survey about what it would take to achieve eternal life, only 1 percent of Christians said living life in accordance with the Bible."

This makes me very pleased, indeed. I'm tired of hearing from other people that all Christians are outdated, pushy, Bible-thumping, mean-spirited jerks. Some of us aren't crazy, you know. A large percentage of us don't care to impose our religious views on other people who don't share our faith!

So the next time you meet a Christian, don't just assume that he or she is a hate-spewing bigot who despises gay people and thinks that evolution is a Communist conspiracy. Take some time to ask them what they believe and why they believe it. The answers just might surprise you!

The Religious Case For Gay Marriage

Anewphilosophy — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 05:15:54 GMT

Finally: Newsweek published a story entitled Our Mutual Joy: The Religious Case For Gay Marriage.

AT LAST. I'm not the only one who has actually studied the entire Bible! I'm not the only one who thinks it's hypocritical to claim that you interpret the Bible literally and that homosexuality is an abomination and then turn around and do all sorts of things that Leviticus says are also sins! I can't tell you how many people are willing to keep gay people from marrying, but not willing to stop eating pork and shellfish, or to wear garments made from only one kind of material, or to sell their daughters in order to pay off their credit card debts.

The Old Testament is exactly that, folks— OLD. God gave us Jesus because he wanted to change the way we thought about the idea of God, the way we thought about spirituality and our place in the world. Just as society changes on earth, just as animals evolve and change, so God watches us and gives us new information, new teachings, as we become ready for them. He gave us Jesus because, as an omnipotent God, he knew that we were about to change, to move away from a lawless, nomadic society and become capable of new heights of justice, kindness— even greatness.

Feel free to comment, but ONLY if you've read the whole Newsweek piece. I hate it when people read the subject line or the first few sentences of my posts and then comment with points that have already been refuted either in the linked article or in the post itself.

So please— if you want to comment, do read the article above! :)