5/19/26

Today was the funeral service for Barbara Harrison, a deeply wonderful soul. Barbara was a good personal and spiritual friend. She was also a very important person to me at a difficult and transitional point in my life.

When I first met Barbara in 2014, she was the director of faith formations at St. Philip Neri Catholic Church among other things. At the time, I was expanding my spiritual knowledge and exploring new dimensions of religious belief and practices and decided to take their RCIA class. I didn’t know much about Christianity and had been led by circumstances such as a visit to Our Lady of Guadalupe Trappist monastery and meeting Dorothy Bruck outside of St. Philip Neri to explore it. Barbara led the RCIA classes, and she loved sharing her knowledge and experiences with others.

I liked her a lot. She was smart and funny and surprisingly open to every question and disagreement I had with Catholic dogma. (The same was true of her husband, James, who was also very active in the church.) In many ways, she had a very Jewish spirit and would wrestle with much of it herself. There was never a time when I felt judged or unsupported in my spiritual journey, and I eventually found myself being welcomed into the community. But not long afterwards, my mom died and my world was turned upside down. I didn’t handle my mom’s death well. And I was already struggling with my own inner demons of depression and anxiety. But Barbara let me know that she was there for me if I needed her. I saw her often on Sundays and we talked a lot then, but I also met with her one-on-one occasionally. Before her role as maven of St. Philip, she’d been a counselor and she helped me talk about my mom’s death and what I needed to heal. I didn’t necessarily make the best decisions then, but it was an important beginning to a long process of putting myself back together and moving on.

The thing I loved most about Barbara was her personality. She reminded me a lot of my mom in the way she didn’t suffer fools gladly and stood her ground when she thought she was right. She was stubborn as hell, yet also patient and always able to find goodness even in difficult circumstances. She had an amazing laugh. And I’ll never forget the look she’d give you and the tone of her voice when she thought you should know better or you said something stupid—it still makes me smile thinking about it. I really enjoyed talking with her, and she helped me find my own path to God.

As I wrote after her husband, James, died since it’s equally as true for her: I didn't know Barbara as well as many, but she certainly had a big impact on my life with her presence. So I know she'll be missed immensely, because I can only imagine the impact she had on those even closer to her. She was a shining example of a true follower of Christ, forever altering my perception of what it means to be one—to be imperfectly perfect, to share the gifts we have with others, to learn from our mistakes, to live a life of love, compassion, and mercy, and to leave the world a little better than we found it.

Looking back through my old writings, this is one of the first references I have of Barbara in my online blog journals, dated 10/8/2014:

The topic of today's inquiry class was pretty interesting: our image of God and what influences that image. Barbara began by asking us to think of some of the names of God we know. She then asked us to think of some attributes that we want God to have and to think of examples in our life where we might see that.

I had a hard time thinking of things besides the typical ones of love and compassion, which were some of the first things mentioned by others. One thing that I thought about was the present moment and the feelings of joy and happiness that I sometimes get when surrounded by solitude and quiet. When those feelings arise, the presentness of everything overwhelms me. But then I thought of the emptiness and loneliness I sometimes feel as well, which I suppose could reflect the absence of God. Or maybe both are God, the latter emptying myself of 'self' so that I can then be filled with the former.

The idea was basically to see how we all see God from different perspectives and how different experiences colour that perception. Using the Old Testament as an example, she pointed out how tribal life was tumultuous, and how God often takes on an angry or vengeful persona based upon the experiences of the ancient Israelites. They were trying to describe their experience of God in that context, and we have to take that into consideration.

It's something to think about, in my opinion. I think we tend to put God in a box, however we conceive the idea, and that picture is influenced by our experiences and biases, how we were raised, the things we've read, the ups and downs in our lives, etc. But the subject transcends whatever box we try to place it in. Our point of view is limited; but at the same time, we want to express how God appears to us in our lives.

Some of the ways she talked about God reminded me a bit of nibbana in the sense that God is something which is always there, and the more we allow our preconceived notions to fall away, the more we experience God. To me, it's similar to the idea that nibbana, the unconditioned, is always there, the experience of it simply being obscured by our clinging to views (think Nagarjuna) and our defilements of greed, hatred, and delusion.

As for myself, from past experiences with conservative Christians and a few unpleasant Bible passages, I've had a rather negative view of God as a fictional, angry, petty old man for a long, long time. But after things like talking to my Orthodox friend about the way he sees God in his interactions with people and reading things like In the Spirit of Happiness and parts of the Philokalia, I started to form a completely different picture.

I'm still not sure if there's a God, but I feel more drawn towards the idea than I ever have before. And the picture I have is growing bigger and more complex, yet simpler. My perspective is evolving. Sometimes I think about my interactions with people and I occasionally see them the same way my friend does. (Barbara said something similar about God constantly throwing us together.) Sometimes, in quiet and solitude, I think I feel what a lot of the mystics and contemplatives talk about. And I liked Barbara's definition of God as what draws us towards virtue.

Near the beginning of the class, they gave out copies of the New American translation of the Bible; at the end, Barbara gave us some homework: to ask ourselves every night, Where did I see God today? For me, I think it'll be an exercise in seeing goodness around me. "God doesn't work against himself." Look for the goodness.

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech HaOlam, Dayan HaEmet. Yehi zichra mahapecha. (“Blessed are you God, king of the Universe, the True Judge. May her memory be a revolution.”)

After significant reflection, though, the experience highlighted for me the vast distinction between the spiritual traditions of Christianity and Judaism and where I truly belong. As I sat and listened to the funeral mass, I was reminded of all the things I struggled with in Christianity and Catholic dogma. I never felt quite at home with a deified Jesus, but always saw him as a spiritual teacher—a rabbi, a proverbial finger pointing towards the moon. I certainly respected him and his teachings, but always fell short of seeing him as God. And as I absorbed the liturgy after a long, long absence, I knew instinctively that it was always meant to be a stepping stone to something else.

I certainly don’t regret my time at St. Philip Neri or with the wonderful people there. I was where I was supposed to be at that moment in my life. I 100% agree with Fr. Charlie about that point. All the same, I know it’s not where I was meant to stay. But I do owe Barbara a great debt for helping instill in me a love for God and righteousness that’ll forever remain a part of who I am.

2/28/24

A lot of people seem to wonder why others who are otherwise 'intelligent' seek out religion and spirituality when we're surrounded by so much technological advancement and scientific understanding of the world. It's all just a bunch of superstitious nonsense that to them should have died out ages ago. But from my own point of view, it's one of the few avenues of refuge and respite available to me and so many others precisely because we live in such a cold, calculating world where progress and profit are the bottom line, not human happiness and flourishing. Sure, many people may benefit from the current state of things, but they do so at the expense of others who face precarity, oppression, and a host of other external stressors, giving rise to depression, anxiety, and numerous other mental obstacles to health and happiness. Depression and anxiety in particular are increasingly becoming an issue, with more and more people struggling, taking their own lives, or reaching out for help. And while healthcare professionals can often provide care in the form of medications and therapy techniques like cognitive behavioral therapy that can be life changing, I think there are some deep-seated causes that have gone unaddressed and continue to feed into people's depression and anxiety—most of them being the external stressors weighing heavily on people stemming from the ways we organize our society. Most people have to work for a wage to survive, or else hustle one way or the other, sometimes both. People often have to spend a great deal of time at work (the majority of our waking hours in fact) and commuting to and from work, keeping us away from friends and family and limiting the free time we need to exercise or relax and recharge. Workloads themselves are often full of stress. On top of that, wages for many aren't enough to do more than pay for rent, food, and other bills, and people feel like they're living to work. They don't call it "the rat race" for nothing. As if that weren't enough, even more pressures come from trying to make due with what you get, forcing us to make tough financial choices between things like paying for food, rent, and utilities vs. healthcare, childcare, and car repairs. Over half of Americans alone live paycheck to paycheck in a state of perpetual precarity and the threat of unemployment and ruin around every corner. And if you want to gamble, you can put yourself into a lifetime of debt to get a higher education and piece of paper that might get you a little extra cheese, but there are no guarantees. It's also difficult to relax when at least five days are full of going full speed to make someone else rich and two days are left for you to try and do all your personal errands, spend time with friends and family, and do something enjoyable and meaningful. And when we don't have the time or money for that, we often find it easier to self medicate with drugs or alcohol or reality TV or whatever helps us through the day. And the broader socioeconomic atmosphere across the globe isn't much better, often full of violence and uncertainty, from wars and food shortages to volatile stock markets and imperialist competition between nation states. Combined with the ability to have constant stimulation from news and social commentary on TV, social media, etc., it's little wonder that people are suffering from depression, anxiety, and hopelessness more than seemingly ever before. Certainly not every mental health issue is caused by these material conditions, but a large number are, and the majority almost definitely exacerbated by them. If we want to truly address this growing mental health crisis, we must not only expand access to and normalize mental healthcare, but also address the omnipresent material conditions giving rise to and exacerbating them. We need more free time. We need to have our basic needs met without having to work ourselves to death. We need more access to the things that make life worthwhile and enjoyable. And we need to share all of that with everyone instead of a system where a few profit disproportionately off of the labour of the many, while the many in turn benefit from the oppression and exploitation of the poor and marginalized. Capitalism is a pyramid of inequality, and the further down you are, the heavier your burden and its negative impacts. So is it any wonder that some seek out some sort of spiritual meaning or practice that helps give life a greater sense of purpose and imparts an inner source of happiness they'd otherwise lack considering the material existence many of us experience falls so painfully short? Religion may seem irrational to some, but to others, it's "the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions." And it helps an awful lot more than simple suggestions to find a better job or exercise more when you find yourself trapped as an appendage of the omnipresent capitalist machine.

1/21/24

What does it mean to be Catholic but not Roman Catholic? This is a question that many at Spirit of Grace are contemplating since the local archbishop has forbidden any Catholic priest from saying Mass at Spirit of Grace, which up until December 10th, 2023 was possibly the only Catholic-Lutheran ecumenical community of its kind. Both Catholics and Lutherans have worshiped together here for the last 37 years. And now, the Catholic side of the community is being forced to either attend a local Catholic church by decree of the archbishop or stay with the church community they have known and loved and have made their spiritual home, the latter of which is an act of rebellion against the archbishop.

So what does it mean to be Catholic?

As most Christians know, the word itself comes from a Greek word meaning 'universal.' It means that, in the words of St. Ignatius of Antioch, "wherever Jesus is present, we have the Catholic Church." And this idea of universalism is most explicitly stated by Paul in Galatians 3:28: "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free person, there is not male and female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus." Catholic, therefore, means unity, communion, community, a kin-dom where all who are baptized, love God, and love their neighbour are invited and welcomed. And for me, Spirit of Grace has been a warm, welcoming community that, in its own small way, represents the open arms of the universal Church.

Of course, on the tree of the universal Church are many branches, each with their own history and culture and traditions that one should respect. And many of those branches don't see eye to eye with the others. Nevertheless, we are all created in the image of God (Gen 1:26-27), and despite our failings and frailties and stubbornness, in God's promise to Abraham and his descendents, the world will be blessed and reunited with God (Gen 22:15-18). And the life and teachings of Jesus connect many of us to that tradition and that promise. Jesus invites us to take this promise seriously and be participants in it, not just spectators. But Jesus was oftentimes rebellious, breaking religious rules and challenging the authority of both religious and political leaders when they strayed from loving God and loving their neighbour as themselves. And should we not follow Jesus and his example?

The local archbishop has put an official end to this ecumenical partnership by forbidding Catholic priests from saying mass at Spirit of Grace and ordering its Catholic parishioners to go elsewhere in his discernment of "the needs of the Catholic faithful of the Archdiocese, the key principles governing the sacred liturgy, and how best to promote Christian unity." But I fail to see how splitting up this ecumenical community of almost four decades does anything to help promote Christian unity, nor do I see a reason to seek out another church and community when this one has been so welcoming and supportive and has become my home.

The Catholic priest who baptized me and welcomed me into the Catholic Church once said, "If Jesus calls you to the table, who am I to turn you away?" And every person, regardless of who they are or where they come from, is invited and welcomed at God's table; so everyone at that table is part of the universal Church—hence wherever Jesus is present, we have the Catholic Church. My Catholic identity, then, is based on wherever I find Jesus. And Jesus is not absent from Spirit of Grace.

1/12/24

I started reading the Bible all the way through with The Magnificast discord group and a question came up about how to view some of the more difficult passages while still being faithful to one's religious tradition and not anachronistically insert one's personal preferences and values into those texts. It got me thinking about my own approach.

Coming from a non-religious background and growing into a perennialist, my approach is to treat sacred texts on a whole as historical, mythological, and mystical texts. I see in them stories used to express certain ideas, point in certain directions, and provide certain justifications for what was happening in the present.

From the historical POV, I see some of their culture and beliefs and what they were trying to do and say in a particular period in time, which was often the voice of a certain priestly caste that had authority or which became an authority. I see them as they see themselves. From the mythological POV, I see some of their explanations for the hows and whys, the logic underlying their particular religious beliefs and practices, as well as justifications for them. I see their expressions of the connection between the divine and us. And in the mystical, I see the deeper underlying threads, the places where people have touched or glimpsed ultimate reality, where God is heard most clearly. And in all of these texts, including the Torah, there are multiple voices all weaved together presenting a tapestry of thousands of years of culture, history, and evolving thoughts as people deal with the contradictions they face, finding new syntheses and ways through into new ideas and experiences and contradictions.

I see a dialectical relationship. And these texts are all of these things presented to us in a relatively linear narrative meant to preserve the past, remind the present, and inspire the future. In all of these texts, from every religious tradition, there are difficult things, ugly things, that are hard to reconcile with the beautiful parts. But they reflect us and what we're struggling with and trying to overcome as human beings, what some call our sinful nature, our shadow self, or what others would call the poisons of greed, hatred, and delusion. So of course, in our attempts to reach towards the divine or be touched by it, we make mistakes and misunderstand and even do harm in the name of the good. And even though these texts may be inspired by God and contain truth, they're written by people that know both good and evil, who speak both truth and lies, who have their own agendas and desires which aren't necessarily pointing towards God but to their own worldly power and control.

These texts and our relationship to them are rich and complicated, and I feel comfortable finding in them what touches me and help nurtures/deepens my 'theology' without necessarily forcing my theology into them and vice versa. I accept them and learn from them, but I'm also far removed from many of these times and places and certain things may not be as relevant as they once were.

8/20/23

Today's gospel reading was Matthew 15:10-28. It's one of the more interesting and theologically deep passages—its encounters are complex and full of contradictions that find their resolution in the growing understanding and compassion of Christ. It shows a Jesus who's fully human and fully divine, a Jesus who's a hypocrite and a Jesus who heals. It shows a Jesus who's part of the dominant culture and a Jesus who's marginalized. It shows a Jesus who ignores and insults and a Jesus who learns and grows and expands his vision.

Just before his encounter with the Canaanite woman, Jesus attacks the misunderstanding of religious purity laws, making the point that it's our intentions and what comes from the heart that defiles us or makes us clean, not eating with unwashed or washed hands. The religious elites are upset at this apparent transgression of Jewish law by Jesus' followers, but Jesus calls them hypocrites and says they are like the blind leading the blind. Jesus is then approached by a Canaanite woman, who asks Jesus to heal her daughter. Jesus has healed many others, after all, and she believes in his mission, so why not heal her child as well? Jesus first turns a blind eye to her and her suffering, not even deigning to answer her. The woman persists and refuses to leave. Jesus then says his mission and priority is to the lost sheep of Israel. Yet the woman persists and continues to ask for help. Jesus then insults her by comparing her and her people, the indigenous inhabitants of Palestine which the Jews held in low regard, to dogs in his retort, "It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs." And yet, once again, showing endurance and love and wisdom beyond that of even the great rabbi himself it would seem, the woman persists and turns Jesus' metaphor around on him in her own reply that "even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters." Jesus then praises her faith and heals her daughter.

In many ways, Jesus represents the dominant culture people: he's a male in a patriarchal society, he's a Jew in a land claimed by his people and colonized by them, and he's a religious authority among a people whose lives revolve around their faith. And Jesus seemingly treats this woman accordingly despite all of the things he preached earlier during the Sermon on the Mount, including loving your enemies and the golden rule. But in others, Jesus himself is marginalized: his people are under the domination of the Romans, he's poor, and he's being judged and persecuted by the religious and state leaders of Judea.

Jesus chastizes and criticizes the religious elite for their hypocrisy and lack of understanding, time and again highlighting that the truly religious person helps others, loves others, and treats others as they would wish to be treated themselves, especially the marginalized. Jesus calls them blind in their understanding and example. And yet when confronted with a woman who Jesus has likely been socially conditioned to look down upon, he ignores her and then insults her as if her suffering and that of her daughter meant nothing to him. Yet this woman seemingly becomes his teacher and not only turns his insult around on him, but opens his eyes to his own privilege and hypocrisy, shining a light upon his ignorance and closed heart. And to his credit, he doesn't shut her down but listens, stays present, and in that moment, seemingly grows and expands his vision, being converted and transformed by her faith. Yes, Jesus is fully human, and as such, Jesus has very human characteristics and prejudices despite his deep and intimate connection with God. But Jesus also learns and grows like every human does and he becomes better and his mission broader to include all people. And just as the Trinity is relational and incarnate in all creation, that nature is mirrored in this relational moment between Jesus and the unnamed Canaanite woman, a dialectical spirit present throughout the course of human history.

This exchange reveals the humanness of Jesus in the midst of his divinity. It challenges dominant culture social relations, past, present, and future. It highlights the importance of intention and quality of one's heart vs. adherence to rites and rituals. It expresses the sacredness of everyone, especially the marginalized. It illustrates our potential for growth. And it's a representation of the power of relationships, which filters down from the divine template of creation in the form of the Trinity all the way to human interactions and beyond.

7/4/23

I wrote my own version of the Apostle's and Nicene creeds respectively:

I believe in God, the ground of being;
and in Christ Jesus, light of the world,
who was born of the Holy Spirit and the Blessed Mary,
who lived amongst the poor, the disinherited, and the dispossessed,
who preached the liberating love of God, fed the hungry, healed the sick, and restored communities,
who under state oppression was executed and buried,
on the third day he rose again from the dead,
ascended to heaven,
returning to the One,
and whose example and teachings continue to guide and inspire us;
and in the Holy Spirit,
the universal church,
the remission of sins,
the communion of the saints,
the liberation of mind and body,
and life everlasting. Amen.

And:

I believe in God, the ground of being, the sustainer of all things,
and in Jesus Christ, child of God, light of the world,
who was suffused with the holy spirit, born of the blessed Mary, lived amongst the poor, the disinherited, and the dispossessed, preached the liberating love of God,
fed the hungry, healed the sick, and loved all of humanity,
suffered under state violence, was executed, died, and was buried,
he descended into Hades and broke open its doors; on the third day he rose again from the dead;
he ascended into Deathlessness, and is one with God, the source of all being;
and whose example and teachings continue to guide and inspire us.
I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy universal church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the liberation of mind and body, and life everlasting. Amen.

I mainly did it because I wanted to create something that reflected my faith and understanding better and utilized more universal language.

7/2/23

I had one of the most moving and profound religious experiences of my life today. I went to Spirit of Grace and a retired Catholic priest who, perhaps unfairly, gives me weird vibes was presiding. But during the homily, given by Director Vinci, and the rather inclusive liturgy of the Eucharist, I felt something I haven't felt in a long time, if ever. Between their words and my own internal reaching towards the infinite, I honestly felt like God was actually there with me/us in that moment and it gave me waves of chills and an overwhelming feeling that completely washed over me. Usually I might be moved by a homily or service, but I don't ever feel something profound taking place. Certainly not like that. It may have just been a psychophysical reaction, but it was an amazing experience. I didn't write down anything in the moment, so the precise theme and words allude me now, but for a brief moment, I felt the presence of God and it literally moved me to tears.

6/29/23

A thought I had today after watching an episode of Succession:

Money is a social construct; but with enough of it, you can construct society in your image. But that image, more often than not born out of greed and a lust for power, becomes corrupted, becomes an idol, a false god, a master that you serve over others. It becomes a blasphemy against all things good. The love of money is the root of all evil, and we pierce ourselves and one another with many sorrows because of it.

Coincidentally, after I wrote this, someone on the Magnificast discord server posted this link from Twitter, which seemed synchronistic to say the least.

The caption reads:

Moses: "What a strange thing. I thought I had smashed the golden calf to bits, but it's still alive and ruling the world." Karl Marx: "Don't worry, Comrade Moyshe. Once the students of my Torah smash the calf, it will never be resurrected from the dead."

6/4/23

Today was Trinity Sunday, and for the first Sunday in pride month, Pastor Robyn gave a homily on the diverse language about God in the bible and early church literature, making the case that the expression of the trinity in both representation and reality is genderly diverse and, in my words, queer.

Despite God — as the ground of being — not having a sex or gender, modern western language about God throughout literature and liturgy focuses almost exclusively on the masculine and, in the process, makes the feminine subordinate, which has had the unfortunate effect of supporting patriarchal theology and social relations. The default, of course, has been to gender God as male, but the language used to talk about God varies from the masculine to the feminine and even plural/gender neutral, thus our theology of God, Truth, Nature, Ultimate Reality, etc., should reflect that.

For example, beyond being spoken of using masculine pronouns and as a father, God is also described as a woman in labor (Isaiah 42:14), a nursing mother (Isaiah 49:15), a comforting mother (Isaiah 66:13), a mother bear (Hosea 13:8), a mother bird sheltering her children (Ruth 2:12), etc., and in the story of creation creates humanity male and female in their (plural) image (Gen 1:26-27). The Hebrew words for the wisdom (chokmah) and spirit (ruach) of God are feminine, while the Greek word for spirit (pneuma) is neutral. Jesus compares himself to a mother hen (Mt 23:37), and many early church leaders spoke of God and Jesus in more than masculine terms. An early liturgical work, Odes of Solomon, portrays God as the mother of believers (and all of humanity), nurturing them with holy milk (8:17). Clement of Alexandria writes of Jesus, "The Word [Christ] is all to the child, both father and mother and tutor and nurse" (The Instructor). John Chrysostom's Christ says, "Be thou in need of nothing, I will be even a servant, for I came to minister, not to be ministered unto; I am friend, and member, and head, and brother, and sister, and mother; I am all; only cling thou closely to me" (Homilies on Matthew, 76). Anselm, Bernard of Clairvaux, and Julian of Norwich, among others, also compare Jesus to a mother.

All of this serves to highlight that the imagery and understanding of God historically transcends the simplistic and patriarchal presentation we're often presented with, illustrating that God both transcends gender while simultaneously encompassing all modes of gender. And our understanding should, too. The trinity represents the relational and diverse nature of reality; and to more clearly perceive that reality, we must love and accept it in all its multiplicity because love is our first principle.

Richard Rohr has often described the trinity as a circular dance and the deepest flow of life, and that each 'person' of the trinity relates by "living in an eternal self-emptying (kenosis), which allows each of them to let go completely and give themselves to the other. They are simultaneously loving and totally loveable, one to another." And that love is the very nature and shape of divine being: "This deep flow is then the pattern of the whole universe, and any idea of God’s 'wrath' or of God withholding what is an infinitely outflowing love is theologically impossible. Love is the very pattern with which we start and the goal toward which we move. It gives energy to the entire universe, from orbiting protons and neutrons to the social and sexual life of species, to the planets and stars. We were indeed created in communion, by communion, and for communion (Genesis 1:26 calls it being 'created in the image and likeness of God')."

The universe is alive with love, and any theology expressing its nature can't limit our understanding or our expression of love without doing violence to nature itself.

3/26/23

A fellow leftist Christian recently said, "I've long since made my bed alongside Dostoyevsky saying something to the effect, 'even if it were incontrovertibly proven to me that Jesus was not the Christ, still I would choose to believe in him.' Because for me faith in this arena is never based on the veracity of an historical theory but on a choice." But the same person also then asked, "What does it mean to believe in Christ while adhering to a materialist conception of history?" Indeed, how can one be both a Christian and a materialist at the same time? Do they just shrug and say, like Whitman, 'so I contradict myself! Contradiction is the bugaboo of mankind'? It's a question worth pondering, and it got me thinking about my own answer as both a Christian and someone who adheres to a materialist conception of history with leftist politics.

There's a line from Brian Sanderson's novel Oathbringer I rather like: "One can believe in a story without believing it happened." It's a powerful statement that holds a lot of truth. I can't count the number of stories I've read that have deeply affected me over the years, many shaping the very person I am today because of how much I believed in it and its message. The story of Jesus is no different. While I believe much of the story of Jesus is true, I'm also ok if it's not because of how it inspires me to think and act, along with the hope it instills and the support of its teachings designed to help make us more loving to all of creation, even if we're not always loved back by it in return.

As I wrote on Christmas (I definitely like repeating myself):

When I read the bible, what I see is the story of a people who, on the one hand, are struggling with the world they live in, full of greed, oppression, and violence, yet dreaming of a world that's filled with equality, abundance, and peace. It's a story of historical progress towards something better and the successes and failures that a particular people found worth telling and remembering. And Jesus himself embodies the spirit of this dream. His name means "God liberates" or "God is liberation." His message was destined to be revolutionary, as Mary proclaims in Luke 1:52-53, "He pulls down the mighty from their thrones and raises up the humble. He fills the hungry with good things and he leaves the rich with nothing." His birth was announced to poor workers (shepherds), not the wealthy or kings. His life was spent trying to bring a new and more egalitarian world into being through acts like healing the sick, feeding the hungry, opposing economic exploitation, chastising the rich and distributing their wealth to those in need, and working to bring those on the margins back into the heart of the community. He opposed Roman imperialism, religious hypocrisy, persecution, and violence. He spoke of compassion, forgiveness, universal kinship, and loving our neighbours as ourselves, making concern for others the entry fee to the kingdom of heaven. And he did all of this because he was inspired by universal love and compassion for the human condition.

It's a dream that I share, and just as this revolutionary spirit helped guide the Israelites out of bondage in Egypt, I believe it'll also help guide all of us out of the bondage of our current system that's idolized and globalized greed, oppression, and violence. And for me, Christ is a living symbol of that spirit.

That spirit is also present in many other places, like social and political movements and monasteries—the former reflecting the active aspects of revolution and the latter reflecting the contemplative aspects and desired outcomes of equality and community. I think Ernesto Cardenal touches upon these contradictions and their synthesis when he wrote In Cuba:

At breakfast some Marxists asked me about our community at Solentiname. I explained that we try to lead a life in common, with no "thine" or "mine," a life of voluntary poverty—free from the desire for money and from the demands of a society of consumption. We live in brotherly union, all working for the community. We are all equal. And then I stopped. I understood that what may seem very novel in the capitalistic world is a daily reality in Cuba. (I couldn't talk to them about prayer because it would be misinterpreted, and I wouldn’t know how to explain mystic union to people who don't believe in God.) I was afraid that they were going to ask me what need there is for such communities in a socialist society. At that moment I would not have known what to say.

I kept thinking of the question that the young Marxists might have asked me. It seems to me that in a perfect socialist society it would not be necessary to "flee from the world" in order to live the Gospel. In any case, the material life of those communities would be the same as that of all the others. And I remembered what St. John Chrysostom said (in a letter to a rich man): "If cities were Christian, monasteries would be unnecessary."

For me, God is love. God liberates. God is the spirit of revolution. And Christ loves. Christ is a liberator. Christ is a revolutionary. And as Marcus Borg wrote, Christ "revealed what can be seen of God in a human life" through his words and actions. So I consider myself Christian because I follow Christ's example—not the Christianity of imperialism, wealth, white supremacy, etc., but the revolutionary Christianity of Jesus and the liberation of the poor and oppressed.

All that said, God is also the ground of being and the laws of nature underlying the causal relationships present throughout the universe—i.e., mental and physical actions and results, causes and effects, etc. And historical materialism is simply the study of the material causes and conditions that shape human society and the ways we're encouraged (and forcefully prodded) to think and live, as well as who benefits from and suffers under those social relations. Here, Jesus is clearly on the side of making those social relations egalitarian and challenging the authority of exploitative classes, while his story emphasizes the ways in which God works with us and through us if we truly know and embody love.

There are undoubtedly mystical and supranatural elements to his story that point towards something that lies beyond our material world — to what we call God, transcendence, ultimate reality, the divine, the unconditioned, etc. — and our ability to achieve union with the divine, from his contemplative and intimate connection with God and frequent times of solitary prayer to the miracles he performed such as walking on water, healing the sick, multiplying food for the hungry, and raising the dead, including his own resurrection after being executed by the state in a method reserved for those who opposed the authority of Rome in some shape or form. His own resurrection story may have been literal or simply expressing the resurrection of what he lived and died for in the lives of those who carried on his message, but many seem to miss his mission here on earth and the way he represents God manifest in human form, acting within history. As David Inczauskis, SJ writes, "Many Christians, jumping straight to spiritual reality, transcendence, and the afterlife, forget that God reveals in matter, in this world, in history. They look to the sky for a God who came to earth." Whichever way we may choose to view the resurrection narrative, whether as history or myth, the story of Jesus is ultimately the story of a human being embodying the presence of the divine on earth who bridges the gap between the transcendent and the concrete by centering their spiritual message on how we treat one another (particularly the poor and marginalized), and hence the rift between humanity and itself created by our tendency to, in the words of Feuerbach, "suppose the essence of nature outside nature, the essence of humanity outside humanity, the essence of thought outside the act of thinking."

Jesus' life and teachings stress unequivocally that our beliefs and convictions in a 'heavenly kin-dom' should be reflected in our actions; and our actions shouldn't cause harm, but act as seeds for happiness and liberation. That to me is what matters most. Because whatever happens after this life is over, if we live righteously right here and now, then not only will this world be left a little better than we found it after we're gone, but we've also served to store up treasure in heaven.

2/18/22

My six favourite gospel passages and why I find them meaningful:

1. The first reading is Mark 12:28-31, where Jesus sums up the heart of his religion:

One of the scribes, when he came forward and heard them disputing and saw how well he had answered them, asked him, “Which is the first of all the commandments?” Jesus replied, “The first is this: ‘Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is Lord alone! You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.”

It's clear from this passage that love is at the very heart of his spirituality. And not just love, but the love of others. His message is at the same time inherently personal and social in nature. How we relate to others is foundational to Jesus’ way of life and that of religion in general. And taken in the context of the rest of the New Testament, the more we abide by this commandment, the more we collectively come closer towards what's often called the kingdom of heaven, i.e., a society characterized by abundance, justice, equality, mercy, love, and peace (see Micah 6:8 and Isaiah 2:1-5).

2. The next passage on my list is Luke 6:20-45:

And raising his eyes toward his disciples he said:

“Blessed are you who are poor,
for the kingdom of God is yours.
Blessed are you who are now hungry,
for you will be satisfied.
Blessed are you who are now weeping,
for you will laugh.
Blessed are you when people hate you,
and when they exclude and insult you,
and denounce your name as evil
on account of the Son of Man.

Rejoice and leap for joy on that day! Behold, your reward will be great in heaven. For their ancestors treated the prophets in the same way.

But woe to you who are rich,
for you have received your consolation.
But woe to you who are filled now,
for you will be hungry.
Woe to you who laugh now,
for you will grieve and weep.
Woe to you when all speak well of you,
for their ancestors treated the false prophets in this way.

Love of Enemies. “But to you who hear I say, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. To the person who strikes you on one cheek, offer the other one as well, and from the person who takes your cloak, do not withhold even your tunic. Give to everyone who asks of you, and from the one who takes what is yours do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you. For if you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do the same. If you lend money to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit [is] that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, and get back the same amount. But rather, love your enemies and do good to them, and lend expecting nothing back; then your reward will be great and you will be children of the Most High, for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as [also] your Father is merciful.

Judging Others. “Stop judging and you will not be judged. Stop condemning and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven. Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap. For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you.” And he told them a parable, “Can a blind person guide a blind person? Will not both fall into a pit? No disciple is superior to the teacher; but when fully trained, every disciple will be like his teacher. Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own? How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me remove that splinter in your eye,’ when you do not even notice the wooden beam in your own eye? You hypocrite! Remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter in your brother’s eye.

A Tree Known by Its Fruit. “A good tree does not bear rotten fruit, nor does a rotten tree bear good fruit. For every tree is known by its own fruit. For people do not pick figs from thornbushes, nor do they gather grapes from brambles. A good person out of the store of goodness in his heart produces good, but an evil person out of a store of evil produces evil; for from the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.

The Two Foundations. “Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ but not do what I command? I will show you what someone is like who comes to me, listens to my words, and acts on them. That one is like a person building a house, who dug deeply and laid the foundation on rock; when the flood came, the river burst against that house but could not shake it because it had been well built. But the one who listens and does not act is like a person who built a house on the ground without a foundation. When the river burst against it, it collapsed at once and was completely destroyed.”

The heart of this passage is transformative justice and reflects Micah 6.8, and it depicts the ideal morality of Jesus stemming from the causal relationships of nature itself. It acknowledges that the world we have evolved in and created for ourselves is often harsh and unfair, a world in which good people are often treated unjustly. But there's also a hopeful message, that eventually those who are poor, hungry, and hated will have an equal place in the better world we are to create, while those who lived in luxury at the privation and oppression of others will be unhappy because their privilege will be no more. It speaks to the socio-economic needs of the people. But it doesn't end with harsh words for the world's exploiters and oppressors, because hate and violence only serve to poison our own hearts and make us like them, causing us to harm others in a cycle of violence. Instead, it ends with an appeal to live differently, to love and care for those who harm us, to treat others as we wish to be treated. It asks us to develop compassion and have mercy for others, and to refrain from judging them, even those who do us harm. We all have our faults, and we must work to train our own hearts and minds and actions before we can have the wisdom and spiritual maturity to go out and help others, too. And just as you'll know a good person by their good deeds, the goodness of your own heart will be known to others by the fruits of your good deeds. And a better, more just world can only be built upon the foundation of just hearts and just actions, not cycles of oppression and violence.

3. The third passage on my list is also from Luke, Luke 10:29-37:

The Parable of the Good Samaritan. But because he wished to justify himself, he said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man fell victim to robbers as he went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. They stripped and beat him and went off leaving him half-dead. A priest happened to be going down that road, but when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. Likewise a Levite came to the place, and when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. But a Samaritan traveler who came upon him was moved with compassion at the sight. He approached the victim, poured oil and wine over his wounds and bandaged them. Then he lifted him up on his own animal, took him to an inn and cared for him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper with the instruction, ‘Take care of him. If you spend more than what I have given you, I shall repay you on my way back.’ Which of these three, in your opinion, was neighbor to the robbers’ victim?” He answered, “The one who treated him with mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

This passage is directly related to Mark 12:28-31, the summation of Jesus' message. The greatest thing we can do is to love our neighbour as ourselves. And here Jesus is asked 'who is my neighbour'? His reply is basically everyone, but particularly those who are in need. And to really highlight the depth, complexity, and universality of this message, the person Jesus picks for his example of our neighbour is someone considered an enemy and ritually and morally unclean during his time, someone who even a priest would pass on by. Just pick a person from a group that you most despise today lying on the side of the road robbed and injured and needing help—even that's your neighbour. And to help such a person isn't an easy thing to do. Jesus' message is indeed a challenging one for us to truly hear, let alone live out. But that kind of heart is precisely the one that's needed to transform this world into one characterized by abundance, justice, equality, mercy, love, and peace. No one can be left out of our hearts or our society.

4. Number four on my list is Mt 25:31-46, the parable of the sheeps and goats:

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit upon his glorious throne, and all the nations will be assembled before him. And he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. Then the king will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?’ And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’ Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, a stranger and you gave me no welcome, naked and you gave me no clothing, ill and in prison, and you did not care for me.’ Then they will answer and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or ill or in prison, and not minister to your needs?’ He will answer them, ‘Amen, I say to you, what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me.’ And these will go off to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”

This parable has as its theme one very common in Jesus' teachings on this list—that of how we should treat one another. It's about our actions and caring for one another. And the message I take away from this passage is that the heart of true religion isn't about politics of purity or judging others for their actions and choices. Rather, it's about interconnectedness, relationships, and care and concern for others. How we treat others is our spiritual practice, and it's only in the present moment (not after death) that we choose God (love) or Mammon (greed). And here Jesus is very clear about which he chooses and which he wants us to choose.

5. The fifth passage is Acts 4:32-35:

The community of believers was of one heart and mind, and no one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they had everything in common. With great power the apostles bore witness to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great favor was accorded them all. There was no needy person among them, for those who owned property or houses would sell them, bring the proceeds of the sale, and put them at the feet of the apostles, and they were distributed to each according to need.

This passage is important to me because it reflects the early disciples' understanding of Jesus' message and mirrors the world they're trying to create, the kingdom of God here on earth as it is in heaven. And if we truly want to realize a world in which we don't have to struggle and compete to survive, but labour together and all share in the fruits of abundance, we must live in the same way and socially, spiritually, and materially transition to something new, something characterized by the maxim: "From each according to their ability, to each according to their need."

And last but not least, the final passage on my list is James 4:1-17:

Causes of Division. Where do the wars and where do the conflicts among you come from? Is it not from your passions that make war within your members? You covet but do not possess. You kill and envy but you cannot obtain; you fight and wage war. You do not possess because you do not ask. You ask but do not receive, because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions. Adulterers! Do you not know that to be a lover of the world means enmity with God? Therefore, whoever wants to be a lover of the world makes himself an enemy of God. Or do you suppose that the scripture speaks without meaning when it says, “The spirit that he has made to dwell in us tends toward jealousy”? But he bestows a greater grace; therefore, it says:

“God resists the proud,
but gives grace to the humble.”

So submit yourselves to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you of two minds. Begin to lament, to mourn, to weep. Let your laughter be turned into mourning and your joy into dejection. Humble yourselves before the Lord and he will exalt you.

Do not speak evil of one another, brothers. Whoever speaks evil of a brother or judges his brother speaks evil of the law and judges the law. If you judge the law, you are not a doer of the law but a judge. There is one lawgiver and judge who is able to save or to destroy. Who then are you to judge your neighbor?

Warning Against Presumption. Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we shall go into such and such a town, spend a year there doing business, and make a profit”— you have no idea what your life will be like tomorrow. You are a puff of smoke that appears briefly and then disappears. Instead you should say, “If the Lord wills it, we shall live to do this or that.” But now you are boasting in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil. So for one who knows the right thing to do and does not do it, it is a sin.

In this passage, James, the brother of Jesus, delivers a powerful admonishment. It begins with a discourse on the seeds of division in society that lie within our hearts, the drives and intentions fed by greed, anger, and ignorance. If our hearts are influenced by these intentions, then so will our actions.

James chastises us and pleads with us to live another way, a way that's implicitly based on generosity, love, and wisdom. It asks us to submit to God; and God is love, so we're called to submit to love. And it reiterates that things such as greed, anger, covetousness, judgmentalism, self-centeredness, etc. makes the happiness of all an impossibility. It's a rebuke of hyperindividualism and a call to humility. We're not perfect and make mistakes, nor are we omniscient or omnipotent and able to perfectly know and control the future. We're mortal beings at the mercy of the cosmic laws of nature whose lives are ephemeral compared to eternity. And one cardinal mistake is to love the world and worldly things (things like praise, possessions, power, etc.) rather than God and one another.

Everything in nature is interrelated, including human beings. We're social creatures shaped by our relationships with each other as well as our external environment and the material social relations of our socio-economic institutions. And if those relationships are rotten, what grows out of them will surely be, too. Ultimately, we shouldn't live our lives with the goal of profit, dominance, and gain for ourselves, but simply live doing what's right for its own sake. And if that's how we all choose to live our lives, then happiness will surely follow.

12/25/22

Some people wonder why I consider myself Christian. And honestly, I wonder myself sometimes, too, looking at what's been done in its name. But the short answer is, I find hope and inspiration in the revolutionary message contained within Christianity itself and not necessarily in the institution it's become.

When I read the bible, what I see is the story of a people who, on the one hand, are struggling with the world they live in, full of greed, oppression, and violence, yet dreaming of a world that's filled with equality, abundance, and peace. It's a story of historical progress towards something better and the successes and failures that a particular people found worth telling and remembering. And Jesus himself embodies the spirit of this dream. His name means "God liberates" or "God is liberation." His message was destined to be revolutionary, as Mary proclaims in Luke 1:52-53, "He pulls down the mighty from their thrones and raises up the humble. He fills the hungry with good things and he leaves the rich with nothing." His birth was announced to poor workers (shepherds), not the wealthy or kings. His life was spent trying to bring a new and more egalitarian world into being through acts like healing the sick, feeding the hungry, opposing economic exploitation, chastising the rich and distributing their wealth to those in need, and working to bring those on the margins back into the heart of the community. He opposed Roman imperialism, religious hypocrisy, persecution, and violence. He spoke of compassion, forgiveness, universal kinship, and loving our neighbours as ourselves, making concern for others the entry fee to the kingdom of heaven. And he did all of this because he was inspired by universal love and compassion for the human condition.

It's a dream that I share, and just as this revolutionary spirit helped guide the Israelites out of bondage in Egypt, I believe it'll also help guide all of us out of the bondage of our current system that's idolized and globalized greed, oppression, and violence. And for me, Christ is a living symbol of that spirit.

That spirit is also present in many other places, like social and political movements and monasteries—the former reflecting the active aspects of revolution and the latter reflecting the contemplative aspects and desired outcomes of equality and community. I think Ernesto Cardenal touches upon these contradictions and their synthesis when he wrote In Cuba:

At breakfast some Marxists asked me about our community at Solentiname. I explained that we try to lead a life in common, with no "thine" or "mine," a life of voluntary poverty—free from the desire for money and from the demands of a society of consumption. We live in brotherly union, all working for the community. We are all equal. And then I stopped. I understood that what may seem very novel in the capitalistic world is a daily reality in Cuba. (I couldn't talk to them about prayer because it would be misinterpreted, and I wouldn’t know how to explain mystic union to people who don't believe in God.) I was afraid that they were going to ask me what need there is for such communities in a socialist society. At that moment I would not have known what to say.

I kept thinking of the question that the young Marxists might have asked me. It seems to me that in a perfect socialist society it would not be necessary to "flee from the world" in order to live the Gospel. In any case, the material life of those communities would be the same as that of all the others. And I remembered what St. John Chrysostom said (in a letter to a rich man): "If cities were Christian, monasteries would be unnecessary."

For me, God is love. God liberates. God is the spirit of revolution. And Christ loves. Christ is a liberator. Christ is a revolutionary. And as Marcus Borg wrote, Christ "revealed what can be seen of God in a human life" through his words and actions. So I consider myself Christian because I follow Christ's example—not the Christianity of imperialism, wealth, white supremacy, etc., but the revolutionary Christianity of Jesus and the liberation of the poor and oppressed.

12/18/22

Today's service at Spirit of Grace was incredibly moving, both due to the nature of the readings and to the emotions, prayers, and thoughts that were offered by the community.

There was a tearful children's homily at the beginning about the birth of Jesus and the meaning of the name Emmanuel, 'God is with us.' Obviously there was something deeply felt by the presenter, Katie, about the idea of God walking with us, crying with us, and being present with us in good times and bad. (The community has certainly suffered its fair share of hardships and loss, as well as its joys and blessings, this past year.) And the theme of waiting appeared repeatedly throughout, particularly in Fr. Jack's homily—waiting for the birth of Jesus and for the ideals he embodies, waiting for a better future, for liberation, for the presence of God that'll change our lives and the world, a presence that's paradoxically already present.

But what I think we so often forget is that what we're really waiting on is ourselves, for our own awakening and transformation. The way we treat one another is up to us. The way our world appears is up to us. Ultimately, we've been given the "keys to the kingdom of heaven," and it has to be our decisions and actions that bring it about here on earth. God doesn't impose a just or unjust world upon us; we create the world we experience. This is our power, our gift. And the closer we are to God, Dhamma, Tao, Nature, or whatever we want to call it, the more our actions will be characterized by love and harmlessness, and the closer we come to realizing a more just world.

Many of the hymns and bible passages that are sung and read every Sunday mention waiting for God and for a world that's more egalitarian and compassionate, where no one suffers from want, from hunger or thirst, from lack of access to healthcare, from loneliness, oppression, imprisonment, etc. And we sometimes need to be reminded that this new world we're waiting for isn't going to come about through magic, unexpectedly overnight, like Christmas presents waiting under the tree for us as children when we believed in Santa and our parents would hide them while we were sleeping for us to find in the morning. It'll only come about when we consciously and collectively decide to do things different—to not follow our impulses that arise out of greed, aversion, or delusion, but cultivate those arising out of non-greed, non-anger, and non-delusion and lead to long-term welfare and happiness; to not promulgate and support any political or economic system that creates inequality and disadvantages anyone rather than providing for the needs of all.

We're waiting for God to deliver us from all this pain and messiness, but we're the ones who must be vigilant and follow the way forward—we're the ones who are called to love our neighbour as ourselves (Mt 22:34-40), who are called to see those who are hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or ill or in prison and minister to their needs (Mt 25:31-46).

12/17/22

Today is Pope Francis' birthday. I may not always agree with him, but as far as popes go, I think he could be a whole lot worse. For all his faults and that of the institution of the Catholic Church in general, I like that he's not afraid to criticize capitalism and the way that the poor and marginalized are treated within it. For example, when asked recently in an interview about those who call him a communist and how he'd respond to those who say that what the church and the pope have to say about economics isn't important, he answered, "I am much enlightened by the Beatitudes, but above all by the standard by which we will be judged: Matthew 25. 'I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was in prison, and you visited me. I was sick and you cared for me.' Is Jesus a communist, then? The problem that is behind this, that you have rightly touched on, is the socio-political reduction of the Gospel message. If I see the Gospel in a sociological way only, yes, I am a communist, and so too is Jesus. Behind these Beatitudes and Matthew 25 there is a message that is Jesus’ own. And that is to be Christian. The communists stole some of our Christian values." Amen to that. Happy birthday, comrade. 🎂☭

12/16/22

I stumbled on this quote today from Raimundo Panikkar:

The rivers of the earth do not actually meet each other, not even in the oceans, nor do they need to meet in order to be truly life-giving rivers. But they do meet: they meet in the skies–that is, in heaven. The rivers do not meet, not even as water. They meet in the form of clouds, once they have suffered a transformation into vapour, which eventually will pour down again into the valleys of mortals to feed the rivers of the earth. Religions do not coalesce, certainly not as organised religions. They meet once transformed into vapour, once metamorphosized into Spirit, which is then poured down in innumerable tongues.

It offers what I find to be the most beautiful and poetic articulation of what philosophia perennis means.

12/11/22

Today's gospel reading on the third Sunday of Advent is Luke 1:47-55, the Magnificat. This is the version used by Ernesto Cardenal in The Gospel in Solentiname from the American Bible Society:

"My soul praises the Lord;
my heart rejoices in God my savior.
because he has noticed his slave.
And from now on all generations will call be happy,
for mighty God has done great things for me.
His name is holy,
and his love reaches his faithful ones from generation to generation.
He has shown the strength of his arm;
he conquers those with proud hearts.
He pulls down the might from their thrones
and raises up the humble.
He fills the hungry with good things
and he leaves the rich with nothing.
He helps the nation of Israel his servants,
in remembrance of his love;
as he had promised to our fathers,
to Abraham, and to his descendants forever."

Like so many prophets and revolutionaries such as Isaiah before his birth, and others like Martin Luther King, Jr. and Ernesto Cardenal after, Jesus embodies the spirit of this song of hope, and his life was devoted to bringing it about.

The translation they used today at Spirit of Grace was a modern, more inclusive rendition that was nice but had a less forceful impact. Nevertheless, the underlying message is the same. Mary, pregnant and waiting to give birth to her first child, Jesus, sings a praise to God and prophesizes the birth of a new world of justice for the poor and oppressed.

And that got me thinking about how that will come about. There are a lot of hymns that talk of waiting for this world to come, for God to bring it about. But I think that waiting is more like the waiting of an expectant parent, a waiting in which the parent takes an active part. The birth of a child takes time. And as this new life grows and takes shape, it's fed and nurtured by its parents-to-be until the conditions are right for it to enter the world and be born. So, too, the new world we hope to be born takes time to gestate, being fed and nurtured by our words and actions and the intentions underlying them.

But even after the child is born, care is still needed to protect it, nurture it, and help it to thrive and live long into the future, just as any social transformation still needs our continued care to protect it, nurture it, and help it to thrive and live long into the future. And just as we don't ever know the exact minute a child will be born and must wait patiently while preparing for its arrival, the same holds true of the new world, the kin-dom of God, we long for. We must wait patiently while preparing in whatever ways we can for its arrival.

And if we truly take the commandment to love our neighbour as ourselves seriously, then we must work to free our neighbour from social systems of domination and exploitation, from hunger and poverty, from injustice and discrimination, from oppression and violence, from political and economic servitude.

12/10/22

When I was in Seattle a couple of months ago, I picked up a copy of Waiting for God, a collection of letters and essays written by Simone Weil. Her life story is incredibly interesting and I think of her as one of the unnamed saints of the church, living a life of service to others with a faith deeper and more expansive than many of the saints who are named. There are many gems in this book, like the part of one of her letters to Fr. Perrin where she talks about the dangers of the church as a worldly institution and how things like feelings of patriotism can easily be caught and compel one to do and support things that are otherwise evil. One example she gives are saints who approved of the Crusades and Inquisition (12-15). And I think she's correct that there's a real danger of becoming absorbed in the social, being swept away into evil because that world is the domain of the devil, or from the Buddhist view, the domain of the defilements of greed, aversion, and delusion. I think that's why many mystics tend to turn away from the world and live in solitude or communal communities of like-minded people. She also speaks of truth in a deeply profound way, suggesting that she could never be a part of something, no matter how much she loves it, if it limits her intellectual search for truth, "that one can never wrestle enough with God if one does so out of pure regard for the truth. Christ likes us to prefer truth to him because, before being Christ, he is truth. If one turns aside from him to go towards the truth, one will not go far before falling into his arms" (27). And I think her essay "Reflections on the Right Use of School with a View to the Love of God" gets to the heart of prayer and meditation, as well as the important role of education in developing our powers of attention, that "prayer consists of attention," the "development of attention forms the real object" of education (57), and "students must therefore work without any wish to gain good marks, to pass examination, to win school success; applying themselves equally to all their tasks, with the idea that each one will help to form in them the habit of attention" (59). Even if we're not good at something and fail, such as trying to solve a geometry problem, the effort of concentration and attention that we devote to trying is never wasted as "we have nevertheless been making progress each minute of that hour in another more mysterious dimension" and "this apparently barren effort has brought more light into the soul" (58). (And I think this is even more important now, in a time where the speed of technology and our daily lives makes it even more difficult to cultivate this kind of attention.) In terms of prayer and our developed faculties of attention, she write that, "It is the orientation of all the attention of which the soul is capable toward God" and "the higher part of attention only makes contact with God, when prayer is intense and pure enough for such a contact to be established; but the whole attention is turned toward God" (57). In this, I very much see a connection between attention in Christian prayer and mindfulness in Buddhist meditation, with mindful awareness and concentration leading toward the absorption found in deep states of meditation (jhana) and union with 'the deathless.'

12/7/22

Is it just me, or is our society grinding many of us into exhaustion, depression, and hopelessness while forcing us to find any sort of rest, pleasure, or distraction that we can just to get us through the day and the next after that and the one after that, etc.? A society where workloads are too heavy because it's not profitable enough if we have enough people to actually do the job. A society with rents and mortgages many of us can't afford. A society where more of our taxes go towards the military and weapons of war that kill the workers and poor of other countries than to housing or feeding those in need at home. A society where the rich are getting richer and shooting themselves into space while everyone else struggles more and more to make ends meet, making us fight each other for the scraps left over. A society where we wake up each day dreading the commute and having to spend the majority of our waking hours trying to earn a wage rather than spending them with our family and friends and enjoy the amazing world we're born into. Is it just me who wakes up every day tired, beaten, and wishing for something better for all of us but only has the time and energy to heat up dinner in the microwave and watch a couple of episodes of a murder documentary before going to bed to do it all over again tomorrow? Am I the only one who truly believes it could be better than it is if we actually had a voice and choice and this reality wasn't dictated for us by those who benefit from it the most, sitting on their thrones of money, power, and privilege

12/3/22

I recently ordered a new book, The Gospel in Solentiname, by Ernesto Cardenal and started it yesterday. It's essentially a commentary of the gospel readings throughout the year that's composed of various conversations held each Sunday during mass between Cardenal and campesinos (peasant farmers) the Solentiname Islands in Nicaragua during the Somoza dictatorship, many of whom became revolutionaries after their community was destroyed. It's some really amazing stuff that views the gospels through the lens of liberation theology and highlights their true heart: God is love; God is on the side of the poor and oppressed; God is a God of equality, justice, and liberation; and it's our duty to do the work of God on earth.

It definitely starts out with a bang. Jesus is the word of God. God expresses themselves through Jesus, "to denounce oppression, to say: 'Here there is injustice, here there is evil, there are rich and poor, the earth belongs to a few.' And to announce a new life, a new truth, in a word: a social change" (1). "To create is a way of communication" and "when he created light and the stars, the heaven and the earth, God was expressing himself, he was communicating." We are made in God's image. God is a worker and an artist—God created through their word (poema), hence "God's poem is reality" and "The worker is the image of God, and everything he produces is good. It enriches man" (3). Jesus was born among poor workers, in a stable to a carpenter and his wife; his name means "God liberates" or "God is liberation" (9); his message was destined to be revolutionary, as Mary announces, "He pulls down the mighty from their thrones and raises up the humble. He fills the hungry with good things and he leaves the rich with nothing" (18); and his birth was announced to poor workers (shepherds), not the wealthy or kings (26). Just as God guided the Israelites out of bondage in Egypt, he shall guide all of us out of the bondage of our current system.

It's heartening, inspiring, and at times challenging. And the more I read the reflections of these Nicaraguan campesinos like Oscar, Alejandro, Elvis, Felipe, Julio, Laureano, and Rebeca, the more that I truly believe Cardenal is right when he writes, "the true author [of this book] is the Spirit who inspired these comments": the spirit of unity, the spirit of service to others, the spirit of the future society, the spirit of the proletarian struggle, the spirit of equality and community sharing, the spirit of the revolution, the spirit of love (xiii). And I think it's worth listening to what this spirit is trying to tell us, to truly know Jesus and his message through the voices of those closest to him.

11/27/22

First day of Advent. I went to St. Andrew today for mass for the first time in a long while. The reading for the day was Isaiah 2:1-5, which, like chaplain India Jensen Kerr, is one I'm also partial to for similar reasons, particular the passage:

[God] shall judge between the nations,
and set terms for many peoples.
They shall beat their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks;
One nation shall not raise the sword against another,
nor shall they train for war again.

I appreciate it because it represents hope and vision of what can be. And the way Isaiah articulates this vision is by using the imagery of tools used for violence and domination being scrapped and transformed into tools used for the service of the community, tools for food production and cultivation rather than destruction. Isaiah speaks of the day when this comes to fruition being in the future, something to both look forward to but also work towards. Because this vision of the future requires us to take an active role in planting and tending the seeds for it to eventually blossom. There's no definite date, because who can say when all the various causes and conditions will ripen and give rise to these effects? But they most certainly will never come into being without our active participation. If we don't choose to be agents of peace and reconciliation, especially when doing so is difficult or seems pointless, then peace and reconciliation will never become humanity's inheritance. The tools don't shape themselves, nor do they act of their own accord. This work is indeed difficult, and not without sacrifice and suffering as it challenges those with privilege and power who profit from violence and exploitation; but it's the exhortation of the prophets from Isaiah to Martin Luther King, Jr. and heart of Jesus' ministry—the world can be transformed, and we must be willing and ready to make this vision of the world a reality. Only when the world is ruled by love and justice and concern for the common good will "the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established as the highest mountain and raised above the hills."