On the Rewards of Religion

The Apostle Paul made it clear that childishness does not a Christian make (cf. 1 Corinthians 13:11). So, I wonder, why is it that biblical literalists refuse to grow up? In other words, it seems to me that Christian faithfulness needs to be more about maturation and less about habituation. Living in Christ means allowing the ideals of faith to develop beyond the ideas we learned in Sunday School as a kid. Believing is not about beliefs alone, it requires us to actually think about that in which we believe. The unfaithful practice is constraining the intellect to hold onto beliefs that do not stand up to common sense, let alone to reason. (Insert your own example here.)

The more time I spend becoming a scholar (of religion), the more I realize that education is about development. Enlightenment is never an instantaneous moment, but rather one that occurs over time, and with much work and reflection. Just as there is no way to suddenly awaken as an astrophysicist, it is equally unlikely that one becomes truly faithful overnight. But one can hardly begin with quantum mechanics; first one has to learn the definition of a vector. Although the string theorist knows that certain basic fundamentals no longer hold as absolute, she first has to pass through the idea of a stable nucleus before she could conceptualize a quark.

The critique of religion from strict empiricists and skeptics misses this point. Surely persons of faith have ab-used religion (think the Inquisition, the KKK, or any contemporary form of religious terrorism), but the remedy is not to reject religion wholesale. That is tantamount to discarding the baby with the dirty bath water. Instead, we remove the baby and allow him to mature, and let the infantile faith wash down the drain.

Growing into Christlikeness does not come easily. In fact, it usually means a lot of wrestling and struggling—with one’s own self, faith community, and even yes, the Bible. But as the late Rev. Professor Peter Gomes said, "the Bible is not a book, but a library.” Though I value the library, I do not read all of its books equally—and nor can I. But there is a reward in the struggle: in the end one arrives at a place to do with rocket science what one cannot do with Physics 101. Faith (in God) offers rewards that disbelief cannot promise.

So, as for me and my house, I’m going to keep wrestling, and hopefully keep growing. And I’m going to choose not to deny religion because some of the faithful have denied the faith that God ain’t finished with me yet.

jay williams

19 march 2011

Surprise!

Sometimes I wonder why I even set up a blog, because my postings are so very infrequent. But alas, there is yet inspiration; hence this cyber entry in what has otherwise been a near dormant online presence.

I had a breakthrough today! Indeed I experienced a miracle, which is that unanticipated and most-needed breakthrough. It came without warning. I was having a regular meeting with an old friend (read: it was my weekly psychotherapy session. No, I am not crazy. And yes, black people can and should take opportunities to improve mental health.) We met at our usual location (read: my psychotherapist's office) at the appointed time (i.e., Tuesdays at 2pm).

I had been having a relatively good week, so I figured the meeting would be fairly uneventful. That is, I was not particularly stressed out and I did not have any major decisions pending, which have been the topics of previous weeks. Because things were going well, I flirted with the idea of canceling the weekly meeting. Who needs help in the good times, right? I only really need to pray when the situation is less than perfect. But the "spirit" told me to go anyway. Not to mention, I needed an excuse to get out of the house because the "guerrilla monsoon" (think Talib Kweli) from the day before kept me inside for too many consecutive hours and I was getting cabin fever.

Long story short, I went and I could not have left happier. There was something waiting for me that day. No need to go into the details, but I had a breakthrough today. Some things became real clear for me. Talking it out was so helpful. I am a better person for yielding to the unknown of those 55 minutes. Yeah, I had a miracle, perhaps precisely because I was not expecting it.

a holy mess

I ran into a friend and colleague at the Interchurch Center a couple of days ago, so we went to his office to catch up on life and church business. As we entered his office, he said, “please excuse this ‘holy mess.’” In a way, that’s the story of my life. Let me explain, and I promise to be brief.

Please excuse me, because I am a “holy mess.” First, I simply am a human being saved by the grace of God. In a manner of speaking, all human life is but a mess. We are all broken people in broken relationships, living broken lives on a broken planet. I repeat: life is a mess.

And my story is no different, even though I am a Christian, who is called to live like Christ. Yes all Christians are called to be holy—because God in Christ through the power of the Spirit is holy. I am called to the ordained ministry, and humbly I walk in this awesome and wonderful responsibility. But this does not negate the fact that I am human, and thus I am a mess, too. I do not have all the answers. I do not always value the beauty of family and friendships. Sometimes I allow myself to be too busy to enjoy the simple mysteries and joys of life. I often make mistakes. I fail to live out the best of God each and every waking moment. I “sin” (whatever sin really is). But I am striving to walk in the way that leads to life. Please do not forget that the best I can be, though, is a “holy mess.” Period, full stop.

the curse of theology

The problem with theologians is that we know the end of the story. We have flipped to the last page of the book and read the conclusion. We know that the arc of eternity bends toward the good will of God...so sometimes we do not want to tarry in the un-good of the present. (Or maybe it is just because I am impatient? Just as God's property is always to be merciful and kind in all measures, my nature is to be anxious beyond measure!)

Over the last few days I have been dealing with the theology of promise---eschatology. In essence, eschatology concerns itself with the fulfillment of God's plan. Traditionally, people of faith have known this fulfillment to come in the "last days" or the "eschaton." But contemporarily eschatology means much more: it has to do with the hope of today because we believe that God's promise of completion--be it at the end of history or even beyond history--folds into the particularity of the present. In other words, the promise of what will be tomorrow is real hope that confronts the practical realities of this day.

Now to the point: because I believe that the end will be good, sometimes I rush toward that end to the neglect of dealing with this moment. It is not a simple otherworldiness, for which eschatology has rightfully been criticized. But nevertheless it is an attempt, in a sense, to bypass the Cross on the way to the Resurrection. And this hasty movement is problemmatic.

So I confess that I need to slow down and deal with the now...the present...the particularity...the immediate...the today. And this day might just be painful. I may not be happy during all of its hours. There may be tears...confusion...doubt...uncertainty. Yes there are big things to do...I must see the forest, but I cannot ignore the trees. And paradoxically, there is some joy in this.

Be Like Thomas...

While in Kerala, India (the southwest state) I made a pilgrimage to visit one of the seven and a half churches founded by Jesus' disciple Thomas (India was Thomas's apostolic territory). While I set out for Niranam, the driver received bad directions and got lost. When we figured out where we were, we were more than 100 kilometres from where we needed to be. But don't fret, we were in Kollam, and with a little technological help all was not lost. I logged onto Google and Gmail and identified one of the churches he founded in Kollam. The Internet told me the parish was called "Our Lady of Purification Church" AKA "Port Kollam Church" because it was founded for sailors and other seafarers. But when I got to where I was directed, there were no signs bearing either name. ..this church was called "St. Mary's. I began getting a little worried, because who wants to make a pilgrimage to the wrong place? I was additionally concerned because I had already been told that 2 other churches was this "Port Kollam" church. Anyway, I made my peace and entered the service, and hoped for the best.

Afterwards an English-speaking parishioner asked me if I knew the importance of the church….and I said reluctantly, hoping not to embarrass myself, that this one of Thomas' s churches. He confirmed and then took me to one parish's relics--a small enshrined fragment of cloth from one of Thomas's garments (Of course the original church is no longer standing!). Whew…this was the right place!

Anyway, how blessed it was to pray in the place where one of Jesus' followers is said to have walked. Indeed I was standing on holy ground.

Now, I think the Apostle Thomas gets a bad rap…we mostly remember him as "doubting Thomas" (c.f. John 20:24-30) But I prefer to call him a skeptic. He thought the idea of bodily resurrection was ridiculous, and quite honestly, who could blame him? So he said, "Until I touch the crucifixion scars, I will not believe that Jesus lives."

At the very least he knew exactly what he wanted. So he made his demand. Interestingly though, Jesus while rebuking Thomas, still chooses to visit Thomas. Which makes me wonder, if we might want to be a little more like Thomas. That is, let us admit our doubt…blind faith is blessed, but let's face it, we don't always have it. Be bold enough to declare what you need…if you need to touch the wounds then say so.

Let us ask ourselves the question: what experience do we need to have, in order for us to really believe?

Lessons from India

a running list...

1. Simplicity is a virtue--I packed way too many bags and brought too many changes of clothes that I never used. In the end I looked like an idiot carrying all this crap. When I get home I'm making some donations to charity.
2. Ask more than one person--No matter what the question, get a second opinion. But be prepared, if you ask five people you will get five distinct answers….to questions about everything from religion to travel directions, from politics to an appropriate fare for a taxi.
3. Getting lost is part of the experience--Factor in enough time in your journey to get lost. Everyone does. The street signs and addresses are not very intuitive, and even natives get turned around. Visitors, don't even try to figure it out.
4. Rich people wear blinders--Rich people don't live in the suburbs…they built gates to protect them from the blatant poverty right outside their really nice homes and cars.
5. Hindus believe in Jesus, too --my tour guide coordinator in Trivandum, Kerala told me: "I am Hindu but I believe in Jesus. I would like my driver to take you in my new car on your visit to the church [that Apostle Thomas founded] since it is a holy place." Which reminds me: Gandhi said that he loved Jesus, but hated Christianity.
6. Men can make P.D.A.s with other men and not be gay-- Gender dynamics, masculinity, and sexuality are much different in the East than the West. It is normal for same-gender friends to walk and hold hands together…it would be faux-pas for opposite gender couples to frolic in public. So guys don't be alarmed if your male friend grabs your hand when you talk…he's probably NOT making a pass at you.
7. Turn signals are gratuitous…stop signs are too--Horns are much more effective for defining the rules of the road. And pedestrians remember that you DON'T have the "right-of-way" in India (cows do, however, since they are holy in the Hindu tradition). Also, please look both ways when you cross the street, or you may not live to tell the tale.
8. Spices come with everything--don't bother asking for "no spices"…it's just not possible. End of story.
9. Cheeseburgers? -- Only is beef a "no-no," but the country is overwhelming vegetarian. In other words, meat is not the default option in a meal. In fact, menus will typically be separated into "vegetarian" and "non-vegetarian" section. Herbivores rule, not carnivores. (By the way, beef is allowed in some places, but culturally eating from the cow is for those who live outside the caste system…in other words, it wouldn't be a compliment.)
10. Roadside worship is common--Don't be surprised if there are temples--large, small, and everything in between--along the road…tucked in between stores…practically anywhere. Get your worship on!
11. Airport security is a serious matter--If someone checks my passport or carry-on luggage one more time…I will…
12. Black people are strange--If you are non-Indian "black" you will get stared at. Get used to it. (And no, I'm not South African or West Indian…)
13. Black people with "locks" are even stranger--Be nice and smile when people look at your hair. Allow them to take pictures. Don't be offended if they point. Occasionally let them touch your hair, too, because they don't believe that it is real. If the children cry around you, it's probably because the Indian equivalent to the "boogeyman" has long hair.
14. Overemployment--There are a lot of people in India. And there doesn't seem to be enough value-add jobs to go around. But that doesn't mean that you won' t be employed. For instance at one Christian hostel, one guy was solely responsible for providing the afternoon tea. I'm almost certain he didn't do anything else all day long!
15. Globalization is global--There are McDonalds, Pizza Huts, Subways, and TGI Fridays in India. They even have factory outlets for Nike, Reebok, and Puma.

First class

OMG! I am riding a "first class" train through southern India. It would be funny if I were not hungry and confused. I don't even know where to start.

I am sure they want to laugh at me…my neighbors in the train car booth. I would be laughing too if I saw me. First of all, I look ridiculous. You know how tourists do when they try to fit in. I have on these white cotton pants (excuse the fact that it's long past Labor Day!) and a long traditional Indian shirt. And because it's cold on this train, I've got a track jacket on overtop it. Not to mention the fact that I am like one of four "black" people (by American standards that is) in the entire country. And I am almost certain that I AM the only one with "locks" because I turn heads every place I go (I'm good looking, but not that much!). Besides the fact that I stand out like a sore thumb--but get an "A" for effort in the wardrobe department (don't let me mention how I was wearing the doti earlier today, which is the Indian equivalent to the Scottish kilt….a whole separate story)--I clearly am uncomfortable on the train. I keep looking around, through the curtains and the window…trying to figure out where the f&@k I am!?! Oh yeah, and Mickey Mouse keeps running around on the floor under the seats. (I checked to make certain my bags are zipped airtight so not to bring home any foreign critters.) By the way, isn't this FIRST CLASS? I would hate to be in second or even worse still, third class, with no A/C. They say you never know a place until you ride their public transportation. Well apparently I had not seen India the 3 previous weeks I had been here, because this is quite an experience indeed :-)

Now back to the neighbors laughing at me: here I am trying to eat my biriyani (seasoned rice) with my fingers. Before I dug in, of course I had to squirt globs of Purell all over my hands. "Ah yes, now I feel 'clean.'" Now mind you, I was forced to buy this food selection (I already had it for lunch….when I still had the option of utensils), because I failed to purchase the samosas at the last pitstop. One of my neighbors ordered some dalum (sp?) from the passerby vendors….I asked him what that was, and he looked like I had four eyes. "I mean, sorry, I'm American...have mercy on me," I thought! Anyway, he encouraged me to get something because this was the last stop on our 16-hour journey, only 4 hours into it. So I reluctantly went after the vendors while the train was still at the station stop. Once I retrieved my meal I returned to my seat, now crammed to full capacity (isn't this first class, again I say?) I began dining. No fork. No napkin. Not even a chopstick. Only my fingers. Luckily I had fooled around with this finger-eating a couple of times before here, but this time was different. I don't think I've ever eaten rice, with no bread, with just my fingers. And this isn't the sticky rice of the Orient, the grains of this stuff was as distinctive as Uncle Ben's! No Minute Rice here. So there were rice everywhere….falling out from between my fingers. On my clothes. On the floor. And all the while I am PRAYING fiercely that the spices don't get the best of my intestines and compel me to the toilets. (Side note: Indian toilets don't have toilets with bowls….it's really just a whole in the floor with grooved footprints in case you didn't know where to stand--or squat as it were.)

Oh, did I mention that I'm writing from the top bunk? I'm pretty sure that mine is the bottom, but the older Indian guy kinda laid claim to it. And who am I to disagree? Not to mention, I'm not exactly in the position to be unruly. My being forced to the top (I like the way that sounds) was almost as funny as the look on neighbor #3's face when he returned from the toilets to find out that neighbor #3 (I'll call him "spring roll" since that's what he brought aboard) had converted his seat into the pull-out bed. So #2 (let's call him "bling bling" cause he wore a diamond in his left ear) had to retreat to the top bunk across from mine….

Then #1 (the "thief" comes back from the toilet, makes his (MY!) bed and then asks whether he can turn the lights out. Didn't he know that I intended on reading all through the train ride? The darkness is not very conducive to that, and the laptop light simply won't do. Perhaps this is a sign….no reading (another excuse in a series of them during this voyage to India)…a little more typing maybe. And then an episode of "Lost").

So, nighty night.

much love,

#4 (the dumb American)