Common Sense Religion or Craziness?

This is a response inspired by the Catholic Science Geek's blog post of yesterday, Sunday, May 27, 2012. 

Interestingly, I was once contacted by a Christian group while at Montclair's Sprague Library.  It was probably by people from the same group that the CSG describes in her post.  I was looking up a few books (always for fun, rarely for class) when two Hispanic students, one female and one male, stopped me to ask if I would take a survey.  I said, "Sure."

The girl asked me what I knew about Passover.  This was a few years after my Jewish period and my Arthurian Legend/Holy Grail period, so I was reasonably knowledgeable.  They were both impressed.  However, they then asked about the way to salvation.  And they asserted that it was through the Passover.  In the back of my Catholic-educated mind, I knew that Jesus as "the Lamb of God" was sacrificed during the Jewish Passover feast—in fact as the new Passover feast for the Christians.  Catholics commemorate this feast at every Mass, when they reenact the Last Supper of Christ, when he lifted up the bread and said, "Take this all of you and eat it.  This is my Body which will be given up for you," and of course, "Do this in memory of me."  Furthermore, even though substituting the literal lamb of the Jewish Passover, this sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross is reenacted at Mass when the bread, "the Body of Christ," is broken and eaten by his followers. 

The Last Supper by Tintoretto

However, the Passover of the Catholic Mass was not good enough for these people.  They opened up their Scripture and pointed out to me numerous passages referring to the necessity of the Passover.  I suggested, "What about attending the Jewish Passover as a Christian?"  (Yes, I had once toyed with the idea of converting to Judaism and joining the Jews for Jesus.)  Here, the young man stepped in and asked, "Why would you go to a Jewish Passover?  Who killed Jesus?"  To which I replied, "The Romans.  Led on by the priests.  Jesus, his mother, and his first followers were all Jewish."  (But that's another post I've been working on.)  Apparently, the Passover of the Jews (who had it first) was not good enough for these people, either.  It was their Passover they wanted me to attend.  Well, they may have been better talkers than I am and may have won the Scriptural argument, but they did not win my conviction or my attendance.  (My heresy was already beginning by that point.)  Like Huck Finn, I may be going to hell, but at least I'll be there with the people I care about. 

One of the reasons that I've included this anecdote is because there is a fine line these days between a legitimate church and a cult.  Cult is a general word in Latin for religion or devotion, and the English word keeps that connotation in academia when speaking of the Ancient Roman "cults" or "religious followings" of Adonis, Attis, Isis, etc.  However, there is a certain point when a religion becomes a little non-rational.  Perhaps the religion of Attis is today referred to as a cult because the priests of Attis danced madly around a pole and castrated themselves.  On the other hand, perhaps it was not so irrational a cult at that time, when many practices strange to us today were connected with fertility rites. 

However, there is a certain point when the ego becomes inflated, and that is irrational and can lead to danger.  When humans proclaim themselves as gods, their rationality is always suspect.  (Think about the lead in the water of Ancient Rome.)  Cults of men who proclaimed themselves gods are nothing new, nor are they dead today.  Look at the "cults" of personality that prevailed in Communist countries:  Lenin, Stalin, Mao.  Stalin means "man of steel" in Russian; this man had a very distinctive god-complex, even though he tore down other people's gods and Gods and persecuted them for practicing their very ancient religions. 

Furthermore, in addition to modern cults, there were also ancient cults of personality.  In addition to Caligula and Nero, who claimed to be gods on earth and wreaked all kinds of havoc on the Romans and their Empire, there was also Antiochus IV Epiphanes, descended from one of Alexander the Great's generals, who ruled what is now Syria and Palestine.  He was made famous in the Books of the Maccabees when he attempted to install a statue of Zeus into the Temple of Jerusalem.  Antiochus was one of many Seleucids who interfered with Jewish religious affairs, such as Heliodorus. 

The Expulsion of Heliodorus from the Temple by Gérard de Lairesse

This ties into the CSG's blog post because the church that she starts out describing was founded by Ahn Sahng-hong, a man whom this church considers to be the Second Coming of Christ.  It is interesting that the church in question, the World Mission Society Church of God, is based in South Korea, not too far from the border of North Korea, a country known for its cults of personality under Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jung-Il.  Not to mention James Frazer's Golden Bough reference to the former King of Korea as a taboo person, forbidden to be touched because of the divine power he possessed, a common belief and practice among many peoples around the world. Perhaps there's just something in the water or the kimchi juice out there.  

This reminds me of a strange piece of history that I picked up from my interest in Russian opera.  Ivan the Terrible had an illegitimate son known as Dimitry of Uglich.  While Dimitry was a child, he died mysteriously, either from a seizure that caused him to fall onto the daggers he had been playing with, or from an assassination, rumored to be secretly backed by the regent, Boris Godunov.  Well, a few years later, when the Russian Ryurikid dynasty had run out of heirs, and Boris Godunov was ruling as Tsar, Dimitry allegedly returned to claim the throne of Russia.  This Pretender Dimitry rose to power with the aid of the Polish nobility, who had their own designs on conquering Russia, so he was killed and cremated, with his ashes being molded into a cannon ball and shot back towards Poland.  (In the words of Anna Russell, "I'm not making this up, you know.")  However, two more successive pretenders arose, each claiming to be Dimitry.  Thus, the tales say that Dimitry was supposedly killed and rose from the dead three times in Russia.  Meanwhile, the real Dimitry of Uglich is venerated as a saint in the Russian Orthodox Church. 

The Pious Tsarevich Saint Dimitry of Uglich.  Oooo!

Is this what is going on now?  With people claiming to be Jesus?  And Mary? 

Not to say that it can't happen.  There are certain things beyond human comprehension, and I just have to leave a little piece of my mind open to say, "What if."  And the idea that a certain leader is divine can have a powerful influence for good.  Look at the power that the Dalai Lama has on those who listen to him.  It can even work in a small, primal society.  In ancient, or even prehistoric, times, kings were recognized as gods and regularly sacrificed to fertilize the mother goddess of the Earth (much to the kings' chagrin in later times).

The Golden Bough by J.M.W. Turner.  Not to be confused with Ike Turner.

But the idea that a specific person is a god or God can be very dangerous in modern society.  Nazism is perhaps best understood as a sort of religion gone wrong because, to all intents and purposes, Hitler was deified and worshiped by his followers.  The idea of a man worshiped as a god can inspire a zeal that can coax them into all sorts of bloody wars and crimes against humanity. 

We need to be very careful when we practice or explore a religion.  There is such a thing as common sense.  I think that most of us have it, which is why it is called common.  However, it is important to take ideas with a grain of salt and to keep both feet planted firmly on the ground.  This was the example that Jesus Christ himself set forth in one of his temptations:  he refused to twist Scripture out of context and cast himself down from a cliff in the hope or expectation that angels would catch him.  We all should think so sensibly. 

Major Jitters About the Future

I'm so nervous. I'm putting in an application to take a Language Competitive Examination with a prestigious international organization. If I am accepted, I will take the six and a half hour exam in language translation in the middle of July. If I pass it, I will be called back for an interview, where I will have to translate a text on sight. If I make it successfully through the interview, I will be put on a roster and may be called to fill in a post as a translator at any of six to eight locations around the world. I would serve in that post for a probationary period of two years. It's a wonderful chance to live overseas and gain work experience, as well as to contribute to an organization that makes a difference.

I suppose I'm more nervous if I actually get the position than if I don't. I've always wanted to travel overseas and see the world. If stationed in Europe, I would also be paid enough to make a few weekend trips to see the major sites. If offered the position, I would take it because I just could not pass up that kind of opportunity. But I could also be stationed in Beirut, which I'm learning is a definitively vibrant city, but is also located in a political hotbed.

And if I took a job on another continent, what would I do so far away from mom and dad? I don't always see eye to eye with my father, and we clashed a lot a few years ago, but I would still miss him. I wouldn't be who I am today without him. I wouldn't be preparing to take the steps I am without his own efforts at self-improvement. I guess my father will be with me wherever I go.

And what about my mother? Who will cook my meals and my breakfast like she does—like a pro! And what would she do without me nearby? I am very much attached to my both parents. But my mother has always had a difficult time about my going long distances away. I remember the time we were watching My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and she asked (only half jokingly) if I would move into the house next door like Toula did. As for me, I want to travel, but I also want to have my parents close by.

Also, I'm a little nervous about living out in the world on my own. Not that I'm afraid something might happen to me...... except in certain places. But for some reason, I am now more keenly aware than ever of the need for the emotional support of close friends and family. I guess losing people I care about has taught me that. Maybe that need is what has kept me so close to home during all these years of questioning.

I need to step out into the world. Maybe I am ready to work with this organization, maybe not. Maybe this organization is more of a step for a little later on down the road. But I'm going to give it a shot and do the very best I can on this application and on the exam, if I make it.

If I don't make it, I want to enroll in a graduate program this year. Grad school will be a good place to gain professional experience, complete my professional training, get involved in a community, build connections for the future, and perhaps meet a significant other. No, I am not contemplating graduate school as a place to hide. I've completed my turtle years. I am looking at graduate school as a place to ripen.

I don't have to step into the international translation part just now, even if I am ready to go out into the world. After completing the application, I realize they may not admit me to the exam because I know I don't have a lot of professional experience. But that doesn't bother me. I'm not going to let a little rejection bruise my ego. At this point in my life, I would rather apply and lose than not apply at all. I'm making the effort now to move out into the world and develop my professional experience. So whatever experience I lack, I will go out and get right now.

But for the moment, I'm going to relax, work on a couple other projects this weekend, and maybe socialize a little bit. The weekend has begun.

A Little Inspiration

Man, I nearly lost it at work this morning.  I swear, some of these kids are getting more vacuous and annoying every year.  Or, maybe I'm just beginning to lose what little patience I have left with other people.  I'm really beginning to grow tired of my job and grow out of it.  And I know I'm overqualified for it.

However, I'm not terribly upset.  Because finally, the walls are coming down.  I'm not running from something this year; I'm running to something.  I have finally pulled through my crises.  I have finally found answers that work for me.  

I don't know what work I'm going to find this year.  But I know I'll be taking a step forward and a step up.  And then grad school.  And then a career, hopefully, living overseas.  And I want to do small projects on the side:  like learn to trade stocks, or invest in real estate, or create a small business or restaurant, or write a book.  There are so many possibilities available right here and right now.  There is so much more to life than a 9-to-5 drudge.  All you need is exposure to new things—and a willingness to try them—and a whole world opens up. 

Intelligence makes all the difference in the world, and you need to surround yourself with it.  You need to seek out people who are making a difference in their own lives and also in the lives of others.  Because these are the problem-solvers.  These are the people who make it out of their slumps.  These are the people who can get the country and the world out of its ruts. 

And that's all we're going through right now:  a slump.  We—Europe and the United States—have gone through many changes in our culture and our industry in the last two centuries.  We have had a long day and are ready for a good night's rest.  I don't know how long that rest will be:  perhaps a few decades, perhaps a century or more.  However, we go to rest now to rise again later.  That is just what I did over the last five years. 

In fact, I'm very excited.  Even with rising costs such as education, taxes, and health care, I now know of a few ways of achieving what I want in life—ways that are more conducive to my own personality than the ones I imagined in my teens.  Of course, I still imagine myself as wealthy and famous.  I have always imagined myself as one day becoming wealthy, famous, cultured, and well-traveled.  I've worked on the cultured part.  I've begun working on the well-traveled part.  Now I'm going to continue working on the traveled part and begin the wealthy part. 

I am now going to close with a story. 

Once upon a time there was a young clerk who worked for the Russian government.  He had loved music as a child and always showed musical promise, but for now he worked at a desk, pushing papers all day.  He was not happy with his job.  In fact, he was so bored with it that one day he added a little spice to his life by crumpling up an important document and eating it. 

Julia Child always recommends a little mustard
with important documents.

That was when he decided to pursue his love of music.  He enrolled in the newly founded Moscow Conservatory of Music.  He drank in everything musical and showed such outstanding ability that the head of the Conservatory asked him to teach classes, while still a student.  He was later appointed as a professor. 

While working and teaching, he began to compose his own music.  He wrote a concerto for piano and orchestra, dedicating it to the head of the Conservatory, who viscerally rejected it at first.  Although shaken by the criticism, our young hero dedicated it to another patron, who had it performed publicly.  It met with thunderous applause all over Moscow, and still does.  The young man had finally found his calling and his place. 

Listen to it here. 

That young clerk turned composer was named Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.  He went on to write symphonies, ballets, and operas that are loved all over the world.  The story of his success is one we can all remember as people looking for our places in life.  No matter how mundane your current position is, there is always your bliss somewhere, waiting for you to find it. 

The Quest for the Future Continues.....

Well, I had a very fun day yesterday.  I hung out with some of my friends from college, and together we went to a Greek festival at Saint George's Greek Orthodox Church in Hamilton, NJ.  Food, music, art, good company, laughter, dancing (or not), and then dinner at my friend's home all conspired to pass a very pleasant afternoon and evening.  Much joy and cheer were had by all of us who attended.

But now I can't help but express that I'm starting to feel nervous (or continuing to).  I've been putting in a few different applications.  Of course, I'm trying to be creative.  And in reality, I've only just begun doing the job search recently.  Part of my question is:  how do I translate the experiences of my last five years into something that looks good on a résumé and sounds good in an interview?

My journey has been a largely inner one.  How do I say in an interview:  I've been kicked in the groin?  I lost one of the most important people in my life; my religion and even my family broke down; but my whole world opened up to new ideas and possibilities; and I have been looking for reasons to be on this planet......... and not merely as a zombie droning through life obsessively stuffing blind mouthfuls into my flaking corpse flesh, but as an actual living breathing human being self-aware and planet-aware with large aspirations and the means to achieve them.  I have been looking for something to live for and strive for, and now I may actually have it. 

The only thing I have wanted from life that has never changed:  to travel widely and live overseas.  That is my mission in life.  That is what I am working for.  I know that with my own particular talents and traits, I won't be doing it as a musician or as a teacher.

I also know that I need and want a family.  I don't always feel like I belong—in any of the groups of which I have been a member, including family, including friends, including classes, including the workplace.  But I still want family and friends.  Even a hermit does not exist truly alone but in communion with the life of the nature around him—and even in the world he leaves behind. 

I also want to have wealth and security.  I know that employees are not always valued by their employers, especially when they reach old age.  I am not anywhere near that threshold.  Time is on my side.  But I want to use that time wisely, and to lay the foundations of security for the future.  I want good food and cheer and the ability to share these things with the people I care about, whom I know deserve them. 
...
I wrote the above about 9 hours ago.  I'm so tired right now.  It was a long day (after a short night).  I know I could have been more productive today and could be more productive right now.  But I just began the chapter on Daoism in the book I'm reading (God Is Not One, by Stephen Prothero).  There is something to be said for "wandering"—it is part of the name of my blog, after all.  I had a nice wander this afternoon in the backyard, in the fine drizzle, trampling the wet grass, and admiring the flowers in the garden my mother planted this weekend.  I think wandering allows one to find one's purpose in life, especially wandering among nature.  It brings out the Entish wisdom of "Don't be hasty."  I will arrive at my destination—in time.  Sooner, later, does it matter?  I don't have to be full of financial assets to to enjoy small pleasures or share them.  The important thing is to enjoy them along the way. 

Wrath About Our Values

We have major problems in our country today. If we rewarded people according to the service they provide, teachers would be thanked and paid the salaries of NBA stars, while NBA stars would be paid what teachers make now.

Furthermore, I am fed up with the apathy I have seen around me. And I am particularly fed up with apathy on the part of teenagers in schools. We have forgotten how privileged we are in so many ways in this country. My mother's parents were peasants, quite literally. They grew up in Italy during the 1930's and 1940's. Both of them were so poor that they had to leave school after only the first or second grade to go to work on the farm to help their families. That was the extent of the education that my grandparents had in their entire lifetime. There were times growing up when they did not have food on the table. However, conditions were much worse in other parts of Italy (see Carlo Levi's book Christ Stopped at Eboli), and grew worse for my grandparents when were teenagers. At some point during World War II, the Germans put my grandmother and her family into an internment camp, where they were cramped into close, dirty quarters with many other Italians like them. Ticks, biting insects, hunger, and sickness were a major problem for all the inmates. Somehow, my grandmother and her family survived. The Germans also went around the villages raiding for food and wine. My grandfather told me he was so hungry that he ate 48 ears of corn when the war finally ended—just as he turned 18 years old. However, in spite of this hardship, after World War II, my grandparents met, married, worked hard, came to America, raised seven children (nearly all of whom went to college), paid off their house, and retired. In one lifetime, my grandparents lifted their family up from the peasantry and into the middle class. We are so lucky to have what we have in this country: food and shelter, education and opportunity. We should be very careful not to take them for granted.

There are far worse problems in other parts of the world than those that most of us face here. In some countries in equatorial East Africa, many people cannot even grow food because of long and terrible droughts that lead to famines and mass starvation. I have a friend whose mother is from the Philippines. Early one morning in her home country, she was running to church and was almost shot by a guard who suddenly popped out from a corner with an AK-47, expecting to confront an insurgent on a terrorist mission and not a girl running late for Mass. These represent just some of the tremendous threats to human health and safety that people face every day around the world.

I realize that I have about as much tact as Bill Gates, but this is just a taste of some of the problems happening elsewhere in the world—and also in some of the inner cities here at home. We should not have to motivate our children or our adults to do their school work or their jobs. Free public education is a privilege—and historically a very recent one at that. We should be thankful for the education we have received. Even if we didn't always understand why we learned it at the time, every class we took gave us a new skill that we can apply to the world around us. Every day that we worked, whether we liked our job or not, has put food on our table and kept the wolves at bay for at least one more day. We should be thankful for what we have received. Even if we did not like what we received, we should be thankful that we had it at all. And in some cases, we may also be thankful for the additional option to exchange what we have received for something that suits us better.

Returning to the above issue, where are the teenagers' attention and motivation going these days? To social networks, text messages, and games on their iPods. iPods are not a necessity. They are not even a privilege. They are a luxury. However, I will not deny that today the Internet is a necessity. The Internet is a powerful tool that can ignite grassroots movements, initiate commerce, support research (in almost every area possibly imaginable), initiate job and college searches, and yes, even support our social and family connections. The iPod is not good or bad in itself, except in how it is used. The iPod is wonderful when used for entertainment. But it should NOT be used for entertainment during work time or class time. I have seen a lot of iPods used by teenagers as distractions for just such a purpose. Now, we cannot be all business all the time. The great joys in life are from small pleasures and good times with good company. My own procrastinations are particularly infamous among my friends from college. But there is a certain point when the job needs to get done. And there's a certain point where parents, indulging the whims of their children, are creating a Frankenstein's monster by indiscriminately getting iPods and iPhones for their teenagers—or allowing them to buy these products for themselves—without demonstrating the priority of their own education and work. Responsibility is key in life and needs to be taught from experience, and it needs to be taught at home. When a teacher calls home about a student, but the parent interrupts the teacher in order to call the teenager on her cell phone in the middle of class for a scolding, that shows us why the teenager is having problems in school. It shows a lack of priorities. That sound of the iPhone ringing in the middle of class is the sound of our future going down the tubes. It is a misuse of a luxury, a misuse of a tool, and a lack of priorities. Give me a plunger, because I will not let our future—or my own—go down without a fight.

Now, even though I've used examples from real life, my point is not to criticize individuals. Nor is my point to romanticize the past of my grandparents compared to our own relatively pampered lifestyle. My point is to criticize our values and our priorities. My point is also to assert that this strength and resilience to overcome need did not only exist in Italy during World War II—they exist today, and we can call upon them any time. We have forgotten need. We have forgotten what it is to truly go hungry. Perhaps that excess of wealth over the last fifty years has taught us to be complacent. We have let ourselves become flabby. Perhaps that is why countries that have suffered terrible need, such as India and China, are now emerging and powerful markets. But we will find a way out of our own flabbiness—even if we have to learn hunger again. We are undergoing a stage, but not a permanent condition. Yes, we have many problems in our country. Yes, there is much greed, corruption, theft of funds, kickbacks, and more. I do not believe that people are innately good. I believe that people have an overwhelming propensity to choose the wrong thing, myself included. However, people can be whipped into shape, as any sports coach, choir master, or drill sergeant can tell you. What we need is discipline. This requires rules. No, we do not need to abide by rules rigidly or unflinchingly, for this can be stifling. But we do need to develop a very elaborate set of guidelines for a very large variety of situations. We need to establish our priorities and develop a regimen. We need to live FOR something, and iPod and gossip are just not going to cut it. My question is: what are YOU living for?

On Science and Religion

Recently, I had an intelligent conversation with a group of friends.  And the topic of science and religion came up.  (How I love talking religion with intelligent people of Catholic backgrounds!)  One of my friends has a background in science, and about ten years ago, he found that Catholicism didn't really work for him anymore—but he still believes in some sort of higher power.  Sort of similar to my own problem—but with science, rather than with literature and other philosophies.  My friend asked me what I believe, and I had to say with all honesty that I don't know............ and that is my belief.  Knowledge is limited, and all things cannot be known definitely or absolutely.  Compare that with the fact that as children, my friend and I were both probably taught to believe in things definitely and absolutely—to look at the world as something concrete and factual rather than as something fluid, transmutable, and varied according to perspective—and also even to suppose that all things can be observed, measured, and quantified, without any regard to the outlook, beliefs, and assumptions of the observer and quantifier—and we can see where all this conflict and confusion in our own two perspectives, and in our whole civilization, have come from as we have been exposed to new and different ideas and to new and different possibilities and passions within ourselves.  

In our discussion, I took the position that science and religion do not have to conflict.  It's a rather unconventional position nowadays, and my friend, with his background in science, was reasonably puzzled by the way I was able to say it so nonchalantly, as if it were an easy conclusion.  My first argument was my observation (many years old at this point) that I have known many religious people in the maths and sciences (and also a few atheists), but I have known many more lapsed Christians, disillusioned artists, and bleak, scoffing skeptics in my own branch, the humanities.  While I do not have a background in the sciences, I have a pretty strong foundation in a variety of religions, so I think I can speak fairly competently on the subject—if not as a religious person then as student of comparative religious literature.

First of all, I want to stress that I think the problem essentially has three components:  

1) science versus religion in general,

2)  science versus the Bible in particular, and

3) the ethics of science vs. the ethics of religion.  

For a discussion of science versus religion in general, I am going to drop an N-word dreaded by so many Christians:  Nietzsche.  I refer the reader to this philosopher's first work, The Birth of Tragedy.  His contrast of the mythology of Aeschylus and Sophocles with the rationalism of Socrates and Euripides provides a stronger argument for the gulf between science and religion than I can provide here.  And I simply will not go into a discussion of ethics:  that is to say, a discussion of right and wrong.  I have always had a penchant for seeing both sides of an issue when I hear them argued, and I have a hard time drawing conclusions, so I usually prefer to avoid controversial subjects.  There are certain things that are right and certain things that are wrong.  But it is those gray areas where things get tricky.  I am going to work on the second and narrower question because I think I can contribute a partial answer to this problem.

While I cannot speak for the Protestant churches, the Catholic Church has a very long history of traditions, theology, and councils and is very clear on what its followers are supposed to believe.  There are two beliefs that I find particularly relevant to this issue:  

1) the belief that Jesus Christ has two natures, human and divine; and

2) the belief that the Bible is the Word of God.  

Let's examine these ideas more closely.  Jesus Christ has two natures.  In other words, Catholics believe that Jesus Christ is God and Man at the same time.  This is the meaning of the mystery of the Incarnation and of the Gospel of John (1:14):  verbum caro factum est—"the Word was made flesh."  As a mortal man and part of the physical creation, Jesus is the son of God.  As a work of art is the "child" of the artist, all creation is the child of God, and no less, Jesus the man as such is a child of God.  As God, however, Jesus Christ is also the second person of the Trinity; he is not only the son of God but is also God in a mysterious aspect known as the Son.  A close parallel would be the Indian Rama, who is a human but is also simultaneously the divine Vishnu.  This belief is, I think, not exclusively Catholic, either.  Belief in the simultaneous divinity and mortality of Christ is what makes a Christian a Christian, distinct from Muslims, Jews, and others who believe only in the mortality of Jesus, and distinct also from Monophysites and some Gnostics who believed only in the divinity or spiritual nature of Christ.  This belief is, and is supposed to be, shared by all Christians, including Orthodox and Protestants.  

Furthermore, Catholiciscm teaches that the Bible is the Word of God revealed to man.  Catholics believe in the concept of divine revelation.  This means, more or less, that parts of the Bible were either written or spoken outright by God, while other parts were written by human beings who wrote what God wanted or willed them to write.  Like the above, it is a belief shared not only by Catholics but also by Orthodox and Protestants.  This is what accounts for the Bible's authority among its followers.  This is why people care what the Bible says and believe we should live by it.  This is also why, with the invention of the printing press, when people began to read the Bible for themselves, many broke away from the Catholic Church and formed their own (Protestant) churches—they perceived grave discrepancies between the original Gospels and the practices of the established Church of their time.  The Bible has had and still has a very strong appeal to a very many people.  

Now, I don't want to take an overly literal interpretation of the Bible.  However, I have to point out that throughout the Gospels, Jesus constantly speaks to his disciples in parables.  The parable of the prodigal son, the parables of the pearl of great price, of the mustard seed, of the wise and foolish maidens, of the three servants each given five talents, of the bad steward, of the servant with two masters, are but a few of the most famous parables that Jesus uses in the Bible.

What is a parable?  A parable is a story in the form of a likeness or a metaphor, used to compare something the listener does not understand to something that he does understand.  The comparisons are not exact, but there is a similarity.  If I believe that Jesus Christ is God, and if my holy text tells me that he spoke in parables and metaphors, then I know that at one specific time the Word of God appeared in parable form.  It should also be reasonable to conclude that the Word of God at large, including the Bible, is also a great story of comparison. 

If Jesus, who is supposed to be God made flesh, speaks to his disciples in parables, why do we agonizingly treat the Bible as a literal, historical document?  Why do we not also look at the Bible, which is supposed to be the Word of God, as another tremendous and moving parable?  Such a conclusion does not negate the Bible.  Rather, it may expand, supplement, and illuminate the Bible.  But if we did so, we would have to revise our current, factually-oriented frame of mind to include a more psychological outlook.  We would worry less about facts and hearken more closely to the truth of the stories.  And we would be following a path potentially set forth in the Bible itself—namely listening for the meaning behind the story, rather than attempting to verify its historical accuracy.  Nobody listens to the story of the prodigal son and then conducts an archeological expedition to determine whether or not there was an actual prodigal son, who he was, where he lived, and in what century.  The story loses none of its potency in its present form.  But we have archeological expeditions to search for the tomb of Jesus and his family.  We have excavations inside the Basilicas of Saint Peter and of Saint Paul Outside the Walls in Rome to determine if indeed the human remains there enshrined are the authentic bones of those two saints.  Does this not miss the forest for the trees? 

Indeed, our literalistic interpretation of literature is not confined to our understanding of the Bible, either.  We also have numerous documentaries and research projects on the historicity of the Arthurian legend and still seek to answer whether or not there existed a Celtic chieftain by the name of Arthur.  Even translator and scholar Robert Fitzgerald describes making a trek to Ithaca to compare that island's geography to the way it is described in Homer's Odyssey.  This tendency is nothing modern, either:  already in ancient Roman times, we find the poet Virgil identifying Homer's mysterious islands with locations within the territory of Italy; the city of Naples to this day is poetically referred to as Parthenopean, in homage to the Siren who is buried there.  In our quests, we sift through so much of the myth—the part that really speaks to us—to look for a grain of truth.  But which is more important:  the single, microscopic flakes of pigment in the ceiling, or the awesome image of the Creation of Adam that makes the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel so awe-inspiring? 

If we look at the Bible as a parable, it no longer matters if God created the world in six days in the sense of twenty-four earth hours times six.  Why would we, who are so limited, think that God is infinite and all-powerful and assume that God created the whole vast universe so much larger than we are in time as we perceive it?  Does the Bible itself not say, "One day is as a thousand years with the Lord, and a thousand years are as one day" (2 Peter 3:8)?  It's that concrete, literal thinking at work again. 

If we look at the Bible as a metaphor, the question of "creation out of dust and spittle" vs. "slow evolution out of dust and moisture by way of reptiles and primates" becomes less of an urgent conflict and more of a quibble in semantics.  Some people are long-winded; some people are laconic.  We have not departed from the same essential story.  All we have is a variation of details:  a long version, and a short version.  The forty or so sentences of Genesis Chapters 1-2 are the short version.  A college seminar in astrophysics and earth processes is the long one.  Do you see?  Within the context of established Christianity, we can find ways to reconcile some of the cosmology of science and religion. 

But I have made my arguments largely from a logical, literal perspective.  What we need is a more psychological, symbolic interpretation.  The Bible has intrinsic value.  But so does the Odyssey.  And so does To Kill a Mockingbird.  All art and all stories have an intrinsic, magnetic power.  They should be allowed to speak for themselves in each generation and not have an interpretation stamped on them and passed unquestioned down the ages.  To do so takes these stories—and their message—for granted.  This is why many of us have left a church;  We are not godless, but we are looking for something that we just cannot find in the traditional interpretation anymore.  But stories will draw us back to them every time.  And when we learn to look at the stories to find new meaning, all of a sudden, they become fresh again.  That is the moment when the stories no longer just mean what they meant to our ancestors; they finally mean something to us. 

The Heretic's Search Continues

Well, here it is, Easter Monday. Lent is officially over, and somehow I made it through without my daily custom of espresso. I still think I should have given up tea, but I just can't start my day without it, so I'll have to find a way to do it next year.

But I've also made an effort to put some religion back into my life, particularly lately since the death of one my students, which I talked about in my last post. I feel like something's been missing. I've been reading parts of the Bible in Latin. I went to Eucharistic Adoration at my old church a few times to say the rosary. I've been watching documentaries about Christianity. This weekend I watched two grand epic films, The Ten Commandments and King of Kings, and also caught half of George Bernard Shaw's Saint Joan on TCM.

And on Good Friday, one of my favorite religious holy days, I decided to go to the Living Stations of the Cross at my old church. As a kid in a Catholic grammar school, Stations of the Cross and Benediction was one of my absolute favorite religious ceremonies. The whole school would participate every Friday in Lent. For those of you who aren't familiar with it, the Stations of the Cross are 14 points of meditation along the journey of Christ to his death on Calvary; Benediction is a ritual in which the officiating priest places the consecrated Body of Christ into an elaborate viewing vessel called a monstrance and lifts it up for the veneration of the people while they chant in Latin and the sweet, tea-like fragrant frankincense is burned. I haven't been to Stations and Benediction since I moved away from North Jersey in the fourth grade, some seventeen years ago, and this ceremony still sticks with me. *sigh* I guess there is no going home, or else I have to make a pilgrimage to my old church in North Jersey because the local Living Stations I went to this weekend just weren't up to snuff for me.

The first problem was that I arrived 10-15 minutes early, and the Stations began about 20-30 minutes after they were scheduled to. I can deal with the tardiness, as the youth minister explained that those involved had been very busy that day with afternoon Mass and serving afterward in the community. However, during that waiting time, religious music was piped through the speakers. But it wasn't sacred sounding religious music. It wasn't Gregorian Chant or MGM epic film soundtracks. It wasn't even the songs from from Sister Act, which I LOVE. It was country style religious music. Which I DESPISE. I enjoy many different kinds of music. I thrive best when I have opera and Beethoven playing. But I also enjoy jazz, traditional ethnic sounds, and I have on occasion even been impressed by individuals performing their own original rap at coffee houses. But if there is one kind of music that tempts me to bulimia, it's country. Alright, I admit I do enjoy "Earl Had to Die." And Lester Flatts and Earl Scruggs of Beverly Hillbillies Theme Song fame. But this was nothing like ol' Jed Clampett's buddies. It was that slow and sentimental music. You know. Mushy stuff mixed with praise. With maybe even a chummy attitude towards God. I felt like Don Corleone, when he slaps his weeping godson in the face and tells him to be a man. Chumminess with the Divine and Almighty? What have we come to?

I don't mean to sound like the father from Mary Poppins. I like tea. And I would love to have tea parties on the ceiling, particularly with my spouse and small children, if I ever get married or have children. But tea parties on the ceiling—with God? Praise for the Almighty? The love of God? And the general attitude of "Yay Jesus!" These are just a few things that I find a need to rant about somewhat.

First of all, praise of God. If a god is almighty, creator of the universe, and is utterly beyond my comprehension, then what praise can I, a poor, individuated mortal subject to death and limitations, possibly give? Why the need to proclaim what is in my heart to the whole world? Alright, I can admit that confession is healthy, which is one of the reasons I am keeping this blog. But why the urge for the finite to praise the infinite? Why the urge for the single point to laud the limitless plain? Why does the powerless praise the all-powerful? Maybe this is cynical on my part, but it sounds like sycophancy to me. Praise? Wonder and awe are more to my liking. Feelings of speechlessness are more appropriate to me. I think it's absolutely true—the best things in life can't be told. True rapture is speechless—a state of mesmerization. It is only after the return journey has begun, once the initiate has gone a distance away from his destination and back towards his home—when the memory of what he has seen is no longer seared so freshly into his mind—when he has begun to forget—that speech becomes once again possible. Praise of God? Either the man who praises God hasn't truly experienced God or else he has but has forgotten God.

The love of God. Another problem. Because many of us today have forgotten that God—including the god of Abraham—has a dark side. Why else does God become man (in the person of Jesus Christ) and teach men to pray, "Our Father,… lead us not into temptation?" The ancients knew what they were talking about when they said, "Fear God." The Great Flood, the Sodom and Gomorrah of Genesis, and the promise of a great destruction to come in the Revelation of John were fresh in people's minds once upon a time. Jonathan Edwards reminded the settlers of Massachusetts of this with his "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" sermon. If God is a loving parent, then why does he destroy his children by flood and by fire? For sin? Why does he punish the good along with the guilty? Does not the parable of Christ suggest that the master wishes to leave the weeds in his garden undisturbed until harvest time in order to not also uproot the good crops he has sown—should he not by his own lips delay punishment? Why does he try his servant Job—with the destruction of his family, his livelihood, and his body? What about the fig tree that Christ commands to wither and die? God may be loving, but God also has a dark, destructive, wrathful side. That side is not the only side, but it cannot be eliminated by being ignored. It would be well to remember this. What kind of parent kills his child—besides Ivan the Terrible? A loving one? Is it a loving parent who kills his child for disobedience? Maybe we should ask this of parents in the Middle East who have killed their gay adult children for disobedience—it doesn't happen every day, but it does happen. Is a parent's killing of the disobedient child justified? One of the steps towards growth is to learn to agree to disagree, even with a loved one. Sometimes one whom we love takes a path that we know will be hurtful—to us or to our loved one—or that we simply don't want our loved one to take, but what can we do? Unfortunately, we cannot make that choice for our loved one—he or she must learn it on his own. I don't know if God knows this or not (but I have my inklings), but I do know that this is a lesson that men and women need to learn, myself included.

Finally, the "Yay Jesus" movement. Above, I've already voiced my criticisms of praise for the Divine. However, there is a further problem. Back in Catholic grammar school, I was taught—right out of the catechism—that Jesus Christ has two natures: human and divine. When debating about theological issues in the 300's, the Council of Nicea declared Jesus Christ to be consubstantial with the Father, meaning "of the same substance." This is the meaning of that fancy new word in the Nicene Creed in the new translation of the Mass: consubstantial. This is also in accord with the Gospel of John, where Jesus declares, "I and the Father are one" (John 10:30). It is also the meaning behind the mysteries known as the Trinity and the Incarnation. The whole driving force and message of these doctrines is one thing. To wit, Jesus Christ is God and man at the same time. My objection to the "Yay Jesus" movement is that it stresses the mortality of Jesus and forgets the divinity. It emphasizes Jesus as a literal, historical person, which as a man he truly is, but at the expense of the divine portion, which he also is, the part which is eternal, mysterious, unbounded, and completely unfathomable to the mind of man. It is therefore inappropriate to speak of God as being thus or not thus because as soon as we do, we are dealing with categories of our own human thought, which is limited. (It's "the best things in life can't be told" again.) We cannot properly speak of the love of God or the wrath of God—if God is infinite and unbounded, then he must surely encompass both extremes and then some, no? If we treat God (or Jesus) as a literal, historical person, but forget the ineffable mystery, have we not broken the Second Commandment—"Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image?" For we have given a form to the ultimately unknowable; we have set a shape to something limitless—if not in stone or in wood, then in our own minds. Certainly, we may become familiar, but we must not become too familiar—with a force that can crush us—or create us. It is well that the Norse depicted Loki the god of fire as both a friend and a trickster to the other gods, for fire can warm, and fire can harm. And we must not forget that the God who so sorely tried and tempted Job is the God who taught us to pray, "Our Father,… lead us not into temptation." When viewing a work of art, there is a certain distance that is optimum, where details can be seen but the whole is not lost. We need to establish this optimum distance in dealing with God.

Thus, I bring my rant to a close. I have a need for something missing from my life of a religious nature. And I don't find it in the attitudes of many church-goers nowadays. It may be my own ancestry—I do take strongly after my mother's family, which came from the mountains of a region in Italy known for its hermits. It may be my own disposition, having always been inclined to the complex and difficult path and to strong, undiluted doses of arts and philosophy. It may be because I can stomach much intellectualism that I have a greater need for it to be content. But I am reasonably certain that what I am looking for cannot be found within a church—in the traditional, literal sense of an ecclesia, an assembly. What I am looking for cannot be found within a group. I may periodically find myself with a group if it has a strong dose of ancient ritual. But all my life, everywhere I go, I find I'm on a different wavelength from almost everyone else. And that means I'm going to need a different solution than the ones most other people are turning to. I honestly get a much greater thrill out of reading The Masks of God than I got at this weekend's Living Stations. Intellectually, I seem to get along best with intelligent, open-minded Catholics and ex-Catholics. I wonder how James Joyce dealt with the problem of Catholicism versus modernity. Maybe it's time I should read Ulysses…