2009
MoF Classic: OC Pilgrimage, Station 02: OC Friends Meeting.
Because I’m focusing on NaNoWriMo and writing 50,000 words of fiction this month, I thought I’d pull up a few posts from the archives. This particular post was written about 3.5 years ago and was part of my OC Pilgrimage series, where I attended various churches and visited religious sites in Orange County and reported on them. I’m reposting this to reflect on my current association with the OC Friends Meeting as CatGirl and I prepare to be its representatives in DC.
Liberal Quakerism is in many ways the antithesis of modern Mormonism, which is probably why I like to escape to the local Meeting on occasion. Jana shares some of my sentiments–she’s said many times that if she weren’t born into the LDS Church she’d be a Quaker. If I have a second church home, it’s the Orange County Friends Meeting.
I have to make a distinction between liberal and other types of Quakerism here. There are various flavors within the greater Society of Friends, such as the Evangelical Friends who have structured (“programmed”) meetings, permanent ministers and basic creeds concerning Jesus’ divinity. The Meeting I visited is of the “unprogrammed” variety within the Liberal Quaker tradition. There are no creeds, no ministers, and no real structure to worship.
The OC Meeting meets in downtown Santa Ana, on the 2nd floor of a run-down office building. They could meet in a non-descript suburban strip mall or office park, but they’ve chosen to situate themselves in an urban environment. They support programs for at-risk youth within the same community. Most of the meeting for worship takes place in a small room, on inexpensive but comfortable chairs arranged in a circle.
So what do you do at a liberal Quaker meeting? Simple! You sit.
That’s it.
Well, you also listen. And sometimes, when lead by the Spirit, you speak.
But mostly you just sit and listen.
Over the space of about an hour (I got there a bit late), I counted:
22 attendees.
2 non-Caucasians.
7 people who looked under 40.
One woman over 90 (but didn’t look it).
A dozen hideous feedback screeches from the two hearing aids in her coat pocket.
2 sirens.
6-7 cars blaring Latin music (with accordions).
6-7 cars blaring hip hop music (with deep bass).
Male Quaker voices: four.
Female Quaker voices: six.
There was an abundance of speaking because towards the end of the meeting, attendees responded to the “queries” read by the Meeting’s clerk (a woman). The queries consisted of soul-searching questions, in this case regarding seeking and following the Spirit.
The quiet sitting is one of the things I find appealing about the Society of Friends. For all of my affinity to and study of Buddhism, I have a hard time meditating in the Eastern Zen or transcendental ways. Even though liberal Quakers are reluctant to espouse any creeds (and you’ll find them coming from Christian, Jewish and atheist backgrounds), the tradition is rooted in 17th Century English Protestantism. I’ve found that I love meditating in the Christian tradition.
In my mind, Quakerism has a wonderful blend of accessible Christian mysticism–a focus on the experience of “that of God” within every human–and then acting within the world on the revealed light and truth received. This is the tradition, though it has been relatively small in numbers throughout history, that produced William Penn and his great political experiment, suffragists like Susan B. Anthony and Lucretia Mott, prison and social reformers like Jane Adams and Elizabeth Fry, early U.S. patriots like Thomas Paine and Dolley Madison, and countless abolitionists and pacifists. Also Dave Matthews. And Walt Whitman. Note the number of famous female Quakers! This cutting-edge progressivism and powerful activism is the other side of the silent, mystic Quaker coin.
So, to wrap up my Mormon-Quaker comparison:
Where Mormon men wear white shirts and dark suits and women are required to wear skirts or dresses, Quakers dress comfortably in jeans and corduroy and a few pairs of Birkenstocks. This is part of a long tradition of being “plain” in appearance.
Where Mormonism has a strong vertical hierarchy, Quakerism is about the flattest, most egalitarian of religions I know. Everything is run by committee and from what I’ve heard and read, sometimes it’s a miracle that things get accomplished.
Where Mormonism has well-defined gender roles, there is no visible difference between men and women in Quakerism.
Where U.S. Mormon culture can be heavily jingoistic, Quakers deplore war and emphasize the humanity of individuals before their citizenship.
Where modern Mormonism tends to preserve social fossils like second-class status for men of African descent (until 1978) and women (still going strong), Quakerism is sometimes decades (or even centuries) ahead of their time.
You can tell that I’m just a wee bit biased towards the Quakers. Why am I not a Quaker then? Because Mormonism is family.
But I’m not adverse to calling myself a Quakerish-Mormon. A Quaking-Mormon? A QuakMon? I’ll have to puzzle this out…
2008
OC Pilgrimage, Station 10: Bat Mitvah at University Synagogue in Irvine
After a long hiatus, I am starting the popular OC Pilgrimage series back up. In these posts, I reflect on my visits to religious meetings and spiritual sites in Southern California from my perspective as an atheist and someone who is genuinely curious about religion. In 2008, I am going to try to visit one locale each month.
Earlier this month, I had the singular honor of attending a young friend’s Bat Mitzvah at University Synagogue in Irvine. This young lady is a special Friend, as she and her parents move freely between the communities of the synagogue and the local meeting of the Religious Society of Friends (aka the Quakers). Quakers have a long history of shunning ritual, and so have little to mark the passage into adulthood. At this occasion, this girl became a Bat Mitzvah–literally, a “Daughter of the Law “and thereby taking the first big step into adulthood and full membership into the Jewish community.
I had attended a morning Shabbat service once before, so I had some idea of what to expect: a worship program led by a rabbi and a cantor, filled with Hebrew song, chanting and prayer, our attention focused on the Torah scrolls and the ark containing them. Many of the externals would be comfortable to those who have attended mainline Protestant services: religious services in a repurposed business structure (the University Synagogue was once a hockey rink), rows of seats with prayer books underneath in an elegant but spare space facing a central podium, a piano and drum set off to the side. A genial man in a conservative suit conducts the service and an energetic woman leads the music.
Much of the difference that I experienced was in the details. The program opened from left to right; men and women wore yarmulkes and colorful prayer shawls; the Hebrew chanting was beautiful but incomprehensible. To ease the strangeness for visitors like me, Rabbi Rachlis graciously explained the meaning of behind the rituals and the words. The program book was filled with additional background information and translations.
Some moments stood out from the others, and most of these involved the scrolls of the Torah. The scrolls were treated with extreme reverence–they were even capped, like roaylty, with silver crowns. After they were taken out of the ark, they were literally paraded around the worship hall and most of the congregation joined in the joyful procession, clapping and singing. After the Torah scrolls made it back to the podium, Rabbi Rachlis invited everyone in the audience to come up and take a closer look at the scrolls and the careful handwritten script.
Even the secularist in me was convinced that the scroll was worthy of respect and reverence. This one was saved from a small Czech town after the Shoah. The Rabbi described the careful process of creating the scrolls (each letter is scripted by hand, and the entire process takes a year or longer). He quizzed us on bits of trivia, asking us how many vowels were in the Torah (answer = 0) and how many punctuation marks (answer also = none).
After we filed back to our seats, our young lady friend read and chanted from the scrolls in her skullcap and prayer shawl, leading this part of the service. Finally this thirteen-year-old woman gave us her commentary on the selected passage from Exodus (6:2-14), speaking with authority and confidence. After explaining the story (God commands Moses to approach Pharaoh to free the Israelites) and its personal meaning to her (she said it was about trying), she then confronted the teachings of the venerable scroll in front of her: why couldn’t God have softened instead of hardening Pharaoh’s heart? She acknowledged that the Bible contains a mix of history, legend and myth and then asked why the writer chose to share the story in the way they did. She closed by suggesting that God didn’t harden Pharaoh’s heart, but that Pharaoh himself resisted the “God impulse.”
This short sermon, to me, was a distillation of Reconstructionist Judaism. As Rabbi Rachlis explained, it was their challenge to take what is handed down and then to “reconstruct it–to make it relevant to the present and the future.” It is no slave to the past, but uses tradition to serve its own purposes, both outward focused, such social activism (Tikkun Olam) and inward, including the strengthening of community identity. It has abandoned the rigid patriarchies of the past for gender egalitarianism (this was witnessed in the service not only by the Bat Mitvah and the female cantor, but also by gender neutral language used to refer to God and the inclusion of the Matriarchs along side the Patriarchs. It rejects supernaturalism, using God as a powerful metaphor. One of Reconstructionist Judaism’s principle founders, Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan, had this to say about the relationship between Judaism and the natural world:
Judaism is the result of natural human development. There is no such thing as divine intervention; Judaism is an evolving religious civilization…The Torah was not inspired by God; it only comes from the social and historical development of Jewish people; The classical view of God is rejected. God is redefined as the sum of natural powers or processes that allows mankind to gain self-fulfillment and moral improvement;
As an atheist and a secularist with one foot in the religious world, I realize that there are some things that religions are very good at. Religion serves many purposes, but one is to make each individual feel that they are part of a something transcendent, something greater than themselves. In this Bat Mitvah Shabbat service, I had the great honor to watch as one young Jewish girl inserted herself into an ancient, ever-evolving community and into a grand narrative and that spans from Exodus to the Shoah and into the future.
2007
Sunday Services at the Church of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory.
Sacrificed a day of studying and took GameBoy up to the Jet Propulsion Laboratory‘s Annual Open House. It’s a huge event. In fact, it’s a lot like Disneyland–distant parking lots, gaggles of families with young kids, and long lines. Only instead of rides, there’s science. And science beats out everything that Disneyland has to offer, except maybe Pirates of the Carribean and the funny Merlin guy.
GameBoy and I had a great time (Jana and CatGirl opted to go to JourneyGal‘s jewelrymaking party). On the long drive there and back, we listened to William Shunn’s Hugo-nominated short story, Inclination, and talked about game theory. As far as the exhibits are concerned, he liked the detailed 3D images of the Martian landscape, and I preferred peppering the JPL scientists with questions about Europa and Titan. I’m not ashamed to admit that I got teary when I watched the video taken from the Huygens probe of its descent through the thick organic soup of Titan’s atmosphere down to its surface of water slush volcanoes and methane seas. It was a marvelous pilgrimage.
Astrophysicist (and atheist) Neil deGrasse Tyson has this to say about studying the cosmos:
When I reflect on how I first got interested in the universe, I realize that I was called. [After visiting the Hayden Planetarium in Manhattan at the age of nine] I don’t think I had any choice in the matter. The universe came out of the sky, entered my body and from then on I knew I wanted to study the universe. My experience was almost spiritual in the sense that it had no obvious drivers to it.
He wraps up by talking about wanting to communicate his love for the universe to others. He is now the director of that same planetarium. Just a reminder that skepticism can coexist with wonder, and that religion has no monopoly on reverence, awe and inspiration.
2007
California pilgrImage: Station II
Any journey, even that of an exodus (from religion), is personal. We can make similar stops, walk together for a time, and show each other signposts, but we cannot make the same journey. That said, I’m stealing John’s category.
John’s pilgrimage is explicitly OC. Mine is not yet limited to any area, although there is a spirituality in California that I’m attracted to (as my sister said today, the missions are very much a part of California, its history, and Californians). I’d still love to bike to each mission from SD to SF, but it’s currently just a pipe dream.
The numbering of my stations is arbitrary. I’ll count the Museum of (in)Tolerance as Station I. But even the stations themselves are arbitrary. I could count tai chi as a station, it has certainly been a spiritual experience. I’ve even posted already on things that could be considered stations. I’m not a pilgrim like John is, nor do I claim to be. But I’m definitely on a journey through this life and it does me well to acknowledge it.
Read more >>
2007
OC Pilgrimage, Station 09: The Masjid Al-Rahman.
It’s been too long since I’ve posted on the OC Pilgrimage, but I’m committed to starting it up again this year. My goal is a bit more modest but also more manageable: one new religious or spiritual locale and/or event each month. This month Jana, the kiddos, friend Bonny and I visited the Orange County Islamic Society‘s mosque in Garden Grove.
The OC Islamic Society itself is hugely diverse. Not only do they embrace Muslims from the Americas, Europe, Africa, the Middle-East, South Asia, and Indonesia, but the mosque welcomes both Sunni and Shi’a Muslims, and Shiites hold leadership positions in the predominantly Sunni congregation (the director jokingly referred to it as a “Sushi Mosque.”) On Fridays as many as 2000 people may gather to pray and to listen to sermons.
The visit was broken into three segments: an hour-long intro to Islam, a catered lunch, and observance of a prayer service.
Dr. Muzammil H. Siddiqi talked us through the powerpoint presentation. His soft-spoken demeanor belies his influence–he was in the spotlight as president of the Islamic Society of North America after the September 11th attacks and works tirelessly to promote understanding of Islam. He covered a lot of ground, but here’s a few of the things he chose to highlight:
- The root of the word “Islam” is the same as that for the Hebrew Shalom and means “peace.” (Islam itself mean submission).
- The Qur’an is considered to be the pure, unadulterated word of God as dictated to Muhammad. As such, translations from the original Arabic are not considered divine the way that a non-Hebrew, non-Aramaic, non-Koine Greek Christian Bible is considered divine.
- Allah simply means ‘God’–the same “universal, transcendant, loving, and merciful” God of the Jews and Christians. When the Tanakh is translated into Arabic, it is peppered with ‘Allah.’
- The five pillars of Islam were described (I asked Gameboy what these were in the drive over, and he was able to nail each one):
- The Creed (shahadat): Entrance into Islam is very straightforward: you simply declare “there is no God but God and Muhammad is his prophet.”
- Prayer (salat): All Muslims pray towards Mecca five times per day.
- Almsgiving (zakat): 2.5% of ones’ valuables and savings are given to the poor (not to mosque). At this point Dr. Siddiqi turned to a Mormon friend, who said, “That’s a bargain! I’m in!”
- Fasting (Sawm): From sunrise to sunset during the month of Ramadan, Muslims are admonished to refrain from eating, drinking and having sex.
- Pilgrimage (Hajj): This refers to the obligatory once in a lifetime pilgrimage to Mecca. Dr. Siddiqi described 4 million Muslims all moving through the streets of the Saudi city, the millions of lambs sacrificed, and teenagers who gathered at KFC and Baskin Robbins after prayer.
By this time we were all freezing and lunch was almost ready, so he hurried through the “Responses to Modernity” section. I thought this was a shame, since this is where current friction and hope for future cooperation lies. He emphasized that most Muslims fell between the fundamentalist and secular extremes, that most wanted genuine dialog and wanted to adapt to modernity without sacrificing core Islamic values.
After lunch, we went to observe the afternoon prayer service. Jana, Bonny and CatGirl were whisked off into the side hall, where they remained hidden for most of the service. GameBoy and I sat in the back and looked at beautiful copies of the Qur’an. He was able to pick out the script for ‘Allah’ in the text and soon we were seeing it all over the place–on the walls of the mosque as well as in the text.
At 1:20 the call came. About forty men and boys arranged themselves, shoulder to shoulder in a straight line. Soon they were kneeling, sitting, standing and fully prostrating themselves in unison. The choreography was punctuated with a soft “Allahu akbar.” The mosque was cold and space heaters swiveled as they went about their motions. GameBoy leaned over and said to me, “Dad, Mecca is that way.”
All in all, it was a worthwhile experience, if for no other reason that the foreign was made a little less so. I know that I am no more than a religious tourist, but respectful, inqisitive spiritual sightseeing can go a long ways to reducing misunderstanding and closing the distances between people.
2007
OC Mosque Tour.
My OC Pilgrimage has been on hiatus for the past six months or so, but I’m starting it back up.¬† This year, I hope that some of you can join me on a bit of respectful religious tourism.
The first station for 2007 is the Islamic Center of Orange County.¬† The local interfaith group is sponsoring a guided tour of the largest mosque this side of the Mississippi.¬† The mosque is located in Garden Grove and the tour will take place on January 15th (the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday), from 11:30 am to 1:30 pm. If you’re interested, please let me know! (they need RSVPs by the 8th)¬† I’m looking forward to an insight or two into the OC and global Muslim communities.¬† It would be nice to share them friends (old and new).
2006
Tourist on Earth
Somewhere I read about a person who saw a bumpersticker that said “tourist on earth” and this made him contemplate what being a tourist meant. To him, it meant: seeing everything as new, being open to whatever experience comes, and appreciating the things that are appreciated by the locals. This is much paraphrased and informed by what I felt when I read his story. Anyone has the original, please link to it in the comments…
We had guests from Oregon (recently, previously Northern California) stay Saturday night with us. On Sunday morning, one of them wanted to go to her favorite church on the West Coast (she’s from Michigan, I’m not sure where she used to enjoy church). She lamented not finding a place like it in either Oregon or Northern California. So I went, as a tourist, to a Catholic Mass this morning. I wanted to see what it was that she saw in it, what she couldn’t find anywhere else.
As we walked in, I realized that it was a church I’d been to before: one of my sisters goes to the earlier mass each Sunday. But I saw it with new eyes. Eyes that wanted to be there, rather than eyes just being there because the eyes’ owner’s family wanted her there. I noticed soft lines, circles, vesicae, and even vines! along with the more masculine hard lines, rectangles, and spears *rolls eyes*. When we sat down, she thanked me for joining her, saying that she likes going to church with someone, which is why she always tries to drag her (stolidly irreligious) husband. But, she continued, she likes this church because even if she comes by herself, she never feels as though she’s there alone. After the cantor walked us through the slightly-longer-than-usual responsorial psalm (distressing how quickly the nomenclature comes back to me…), she told me that this was one of the reasons she liked this community: everyone sang, not just the choir and a few loud singers. And so I sat through a Catholic Mass. I still took issue with many of the prayers (she often substituted “God” for “He”, which made me feel slightly better) and with the presence of Paul’s Letters to Anyone (but that is a subject for a whole nother post) so prominent, but it was a good mass.
And it was nice to be a tourist in what used to be my home faith.
2006
All Apologies.
You may have noticed more growing pains. I’ve wanted to switch from a two-column to a three-column layout for some time now. I can fit more info, but I’ll have to move away from the minimalist, airy look I prefer. I’m doing patch jobs on the live site while I work off-line on a brand new design and layout. It may take a few months to get through all of this. Expect ugliness and occasional brokeness, but I think it’ll be worth it.
Also, I haven’t written much about my church and sacred site visits for the past few months. Much of this is out of respect for Jana’s privacy (you may know her better as pilgrimgirl), since our paths have recently converged, and I’ve spent much of the summer and fall following her lead and trying to be supportive of her journey. I say this for the benefit of those of you who are interested in my OC Pilgrimage (they’re among my most popular posts). I will begin the visits again soon. What’s more, I will probably cross-post some of Jana’s journeys as she writes about them on her blog. Her path has been an inspiration to me, and we may both reflect on our interactions with the LDS Church, so there should be things of interest to those of you struggling along in your own journeys. Stay tuned!
2006
OC Pilgrimage, Station 08: Azusa Street.
My 8th pilgrimage was to a nondescript alley in downtown LA that was the birthplace of the 20th century global Pentecostal movement. I visited it on the eve of the Pentecostal centennial celebration. One hundred years ago, the black preacher William Joseph Seymore, ignited a spiritual spark among his (then radical) interracial congregation that spread to well over a half a billion souls today[1]. Considering Pentecostalism’s religious, social and political importance, I was embarrassed by my lack of familiarity with the phenomenon, but I also realized that I wasn’t alone in my ignorance. The explosive growth of Pentecostalism is one of the most important religious events of the 20th century, yet I know very few people who can tell me much about it.
Comparing Pentecostalism to Mormonism helps me a bit. In the 1990s, their numbers in the U.S. were comparable (2.5 million Mormons and 3.2 million Pentecostals/Charismatics in 1990), but Pentecostalism beat Mormonism growth rate over the decade by an order of magnitude[2]. The 19 million members that join the worldwide Pentecostal movement each year is greater than the total membership of the LDS church[3]. There are currently at least twice as many Pentecostals in the U.S. as there are Mormons. In spite of this, Pentecostals seem more marginalized in the public sphere. Prominent Pentecostal public officials included John Ashcroft and James Watt [4], while LDS leaders include Senate Minority Leader Harry Reid, Massachusetts Governor and potential Presidential candidate Mit Romney, cabinet member Mike Leavitt, and Orrin Hatch, who is the ranking Republican on the Senate Judiciary, Finance, and Select Intelligence committees[5]. Mormons have some strange ideas and practices–why the comparative obscurity of the much more successful (at least in numbers) Pentecostals?
I’m not sure if I have an answer. Their belief in the literal interpretation of the Bible and in the imminent return of Christ to reign on the earth are shared with many Evangelicals. Perhaps it’s the societal aversion to the Pentecostal improvisational worship style and emphasis on the physical manifestations of the Spirit, such as speaking in tongues (gibberish to outsiders) and being “slain in the spirit” (fainting). Then again, Mormons have their funny underwear and secret temple ceremonies. It could be that much of the growth is taking place outside of the United States (in Latin America, Pentecostalism is a serious threat to Catholic rule). I’m stumped. I welcome any ideas, especially from current or former Pentecostals.
I plan to visit a Pentecostal meeting in the next few months, so that I can add some small experience to my book knowledge. Perhaps then I can gain a better understanding of both their appeal and why they seem to fly under the radar. For now, I’d like to post a few pictures of my pilgrimage to Azusa Street. Looking at these pictures, it’s hard to believe that this was the birthplace of a movement that is sweeping the globe. Then again, one could say the same looking at present-day Bethlehem, or Sinai, or Palmyra, New York.
The tiny print on the sign says: “Site of the Azusa St. Revival from 1906 to 1931. Cradle of the Worldwide Pentecostal Movement.”
This is a view of the entire length of Azusa St. It seems less a street and more an access driveway for Little Tokyo businesses.
This is the view from the opposite end, looking towards the city center.
The rest of these are taken in or from the alley.
It should be obvious that Azusa Street really isn’t a holy place to the hundreds of millions of Pentecostals around the world. It’s a positive historical memory, to be sure. But they haven’t enshrined the space the way that Mormons have the Sacred Grove, ancient Christians the Church of the Nativity, Muslims Mecca, the Buddhists the Bodhi Tree, etc. They certainly have the resources. In retrospect, perhaps it’s not surprising that a movement focused on the continuing, very real presence of God within each believer would not go out of their way to build a monument to one such visit in the past.
1. “Ready or Not”, Sojourner’s Magazine. This is a great summary of the demographic and denominational changes Christianity is experiencing in the early 21st century.
2. adherents.org, see “Largest denominational families in the U.S., 2001.” The data’s a little confusing because Pentecostals and Charismatics are lumped together, but the Pentecostal Assemblies of God is counted separately.
3. 12.6 million as of December 31, 2005. lds.org “Key Facts and Figures”.
4. The Political Graveyard: Pentecostal Politicians.
5. Famous Mormons in Politics and Wikipedia: List of Latter-day Saints Currently in Office
2006
We are the prophets we are looking for.
I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus–the past month has left me physically and emotionally exhausted, between work and school projects and helping with the Sunstone regional conference. The past couple of days have been restful. So to ease back into my blog posting, I’m going to let someone else do all of the work.
Yesterday was the National Day of Prayer, which is often an opportunity for religion and nationalism to copulate publicly. I struggle with this co-mingling. I like religion and patriotism when they help people to connect with things bigger than themselves–the problem is that true religion should make each individual deeply aware of their connection to all other humans, but when combined with patriotism often this sense of connection ends at the country’s borders (although religion is very capable of limiting human vision without the help of the state).
I realize that the entire situation is more complex than can be explored in 250 words or less, so this is my shout. Emerson said, “Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis.” I agree.
Anyhow, I went to a local interfaith breakfast, where I paid way too much for an oily quiche and limp danishes, but got more than my money’s worth listening to Bob Edgar, former Congressperson and current general secretary of the ecumenical National Council of Churches. He was a powerful orator. His theme was:
We are the leaders we’ve been waiting for!
He shared a powerful quote from Howard Thurman. It’s a bit long, but worth including (almost in full):
I confess my own inner confusion as I look out upon the world.
There is food for all – many are hungry.
There are clothes enough for all – many are in rags.
There is room enough for all – many are crowded.
There are none who want war – preparations for conflict abound.I confess my own share in the ills of the times…
I have been concerned about my own little job,
My own little security,
My own shelter,
My own bread.I have not really cared about jobs for others,
Security for others,
Shelter for others,
Bread for others.I have not worked for peace; I want peace,
But I have voted and worked for war.
I have silenced my own voice that it may not be heard
On the side of any cause, however right,
If it meant running risksOr damaging my own little reputation.
Let Thy light burn in me that I may, from this moment on, take effective steps within my own powers, to live up to the light and courageously to pay for the kind of world I so deeply desire.
His conclusion was the best part. Here was the leader of a national Christian organization, attacking national imperialism and emphasizing God’s universal kingdom in front of a group of conservative Orange County religious leaders. Here’s a snippet:
EMPIRES invade other countries and markets and cultures to destroy. GOD invades the heart, the mind and the soul to seek peace.
EMPIRES fight wars on terrorism by labeling all who are different as terrorists. GOD shocks and awes us with words of forgiveness and reconciliation. GOD always avoids simplistic labeling.
EMPIRES are built on greed and arrogance. GOD’S KINGDOM has always been built by average, ordinary people like us, called by GOD to be the leaders, the prophets, the disciples of this generation. Again, we are the leaders, prophets and disciples we have been waiting for.
I‚Äôm cheating here‚Äîmy notes weren‚Äôt that good. I found his commencement address at the Eastern Mennonite University online. It was pretty close to yesterday‚Äôs speech (the joke was different). I encourage you all to read it. It’s fun and easy reading, but has a bit of a kick. Let me know what you think.
As for me, I feel a need to repent and recommit.
2006
OC Pilgrimage, Station 07: Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels, Part Two.
[I wanted to get this up before going to bed--if you read this note, there's a good chance that I will add pictures and links on Easter Sunday or on Monday.]
I lost my wallet this week. Yesterday, Jana dropped me off at the DMV in Costa Mesa to get a replacement license. I was expecting to get in a lot of reading for classes, so was vaguely disappointed when I was called to a window within 15 minutes.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“That’s it,” said the lady behind the counter.
I began my journey in the rain and on foot over to the Schwin and Sea bicycle shop on 17th St. to pick up Jana’s new tricycle. The plan was for me to ride it around the perimeter of the Newport Bay and back to our apartment, since we couldn’t fit it in the car. Since I had plenty of extra time, I spent a few minutes in Borders, picked up a half-order of fish and chips with malt vinegar, and stepped into the local Catholic church. It was Good Friday, after all.
The building was an uninspiring stucco and brick edifice with little stained glass. A handful of parishioners were scattered throughout the hall, young and old, mestizo and white, couples and small families and individuals. All were intent on the cross, and I was intent on them. Some were sitting but most knelt in the pews. One blonde in a t-shirt had a military crew cut and seemed to be very absorbed in his prayer. Occasionally someone stood up and made their way to a human-sized cross laid out on the floor at the foot of the altar. They knelt down, kissed the foot of the cross, and crossing themselves made their way out of the church.
After some time watching and contemplating, I left the chapel and walked the rest of the way to the bike shop, picked up the tricycle, and began the long trek home. I had to unlearn my bicycle balancing instincts to maneuver it, and I got stares from passers-by the whole way home. It was worth it though to see Jana riding like the wind. Today she accompanied me on one of my runs for the first time in our almost 14 years of marriage.
You‚Äôre probably wondering when I‚Äôll get to the Los Angeles cathedral visit. It’s been difficult for me to write about it.
I had mixed feelings about the structure itself—I loved its brightness and open space, especially compared to the dark forests within many European cathedrals. But it’s a bit too monochrome, too washed-out. And I didn’t like the broken lines on the exterior walls.
I could write about my impressions of the labyrinthine mausoleum of white marble punctuated by gorgeous stained glass; the detailed tapestries depicting the communion of the saints, positioned so that those attending stood in their midst; little side chapels to Mary, to Pope John Paul II, for victims of sexual abuse by clergy, and for the struggling immigrants to the U.S. I was certainly impressed by all of these things and other symbolic, artistic and architectural marvels.
My wanderings took me through all of these—leading me through the crypt, around the side chapels, and finally into the nave of the cathedral. I walked in between the pews and the communing saints towards the sanctuary, until finally I stood at the feet of the bronze crucifix. This crucifix is life-sized, and Jesus’ feet were at the level of my knees, if I remember right. I stood there for some time, thinking my own thoughts.
Suddenly a whirring sound interrupted my reverie. I turned and watched an elderly African American man speeding down the length of the nave towards me, gripping the handles of his motorized wheelchair. He slowed down as he approached the cross, and I stepped to the side. He had some difficulty managing the chair and rammed the base of the cross. Straining, he reached over and put a hand on the Savior’s pierced foot and prayed. Then with great effort, he leaned over and kissed Jesus’ feet.
While he whirred away, I looked behind me and noticed a tiny, bent-over Latina woman (abuelita comes to mind) hovering on the edges of the sanctuary. As soon as I backed away, she moved forward to take her place at the feet of the cross.
I was deeply impressed by their obvious feeling and faith. I wonder if my religion isn’t lived vicariously through such as these—perhaps I worship the worshippers. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there is a deep beauty in these sincere acts of veneration. I witnessed these on my pilgrimage to Los Angeles in a great cathedral as well as in an ancient little mission chapel. But I also found the same in an otherwise unimpressive parish church within biking distance. For all the magnificence of the Cathedral and its artworks, I feel that the true treasure of the Catholic Church is found in the sincere devotions of its humble followers.
2006
Returning to the Home Church.
Yesterday was my second day back to church (my own home church, the local LDS ward) in three months. Now that I think about it, “I went back to church” is kind of an odd thing to say, considering that I‚Äôve been aggressively visiting a variety of churches for the past few months.
Overall, it was a pleasant though emotionally complex experience. It was fast and testimony meeting—open mic Sunday—and every one shared positive personal experiences and witnesses. Not one person used explicitly exclusive language (e.g. “this Church is true” and not, “this is the *only* true Church”), which I appreciated. Ironically, I think that my being generous with people from other traditions for the past few months allowed me to experience the expressions from believers within my own religion more generously.
In spite of my lax attendance, the bishopric allowed me to confer the lower priesthood to my son, to ordain him a deacon in the LDS church and to give him a blessing. I’m not sure how to express my feelings concerning this. I felt great pride in my son—he is a young man of the highest integrity, intelligence and compassion, and it was wonderful to see others publicly acknowledge some of these in him. Receiving the priesthood is, for Mormon boys, a coming of age. He attended priesthood opening exercises with me and all the other men in the ward for the first time. Next time he goes to church he will participate in the highly visible role of passing the sacrament (Eucharist) to members of the congregation. These are all significant rites of passage for adolescent Mormon boys.
At the same time I felt pride for my son, I felt grief that my daughter would not be able experience anything comparable.
After the ordination, I attended a Sunday school class taught by my best friend in the ward. His focus was on acknowledging the weaknesses of the highest leaders in the Church, something that members are loathe to do. It was an atypical lesson—not for my friend, but to hear in the conservative church.
Finally, I taught the Elder’s Quorum (essentially the men between 18 and 40) lesson. My assigned topic was the atonement of Christ, and I avoided the emphasis on obedience from the manual, and instead I problematized standard contemporary LDS ways of understanding the concept (which are kind of legalistic). Instead, I brought in ideas from Christian theologians that I thought might enrich Mormon understanding of Christ’s sacrifice. Highlights included my experience at the AME church, which I presented in a positive light, and Christ’s roles as prophet, priest and king: illuminating, reconciling and vanquishing for humanity’s sake. I closed by saying that I couldn’t understand the atonement in terms of feelings of forgiveness (some men of the men had shared personal experiences in which they had received forgiveness), but I envisioned it in terms of my love for my children—I rejoice when they rejoice, and I suffer when they suffer, and I would do anything to ease their torment. I then extrapolated this to God’s infinite empathy for his children. This is one of my favorite themes, and I stress it every time I teach. I emphasize that Mormons, as the literal offspring of God, should strive towards having Godlike empathy and compassion towards all others.
Teaching in the LDS church is a tightrope act for me. I am open, though not specific, about my doubts. My goal every lesson is to challenge some typical Mormon approach to the subject matter. I try to teach things that support my core values (independent spirituality, priority of conscience, compassion, humanism, and sometimes even feminism and pacifism) using the experiences, metaphors and symbols that I share with these men. I try not to be dishonest, though I am well aware that many things I say metaphorically are interpreted literally. A few of the more attentive listeners have commented on my careful selection of words, but not disparagingly. My lessons are generally received very well—as interesting, provocative, sincere and uplifting. This one seemed to be received similarly, which was very satisfying.
I wonder how long I’ll continue doing this? Partly I persevere because I love teaching, because I love the men I have the privilege to teach, and because of encouragement from the Elder’s Quorum presidency and my friend Jana Riess.
Next week, my family will attend a high liturgical Easter service at our dear friend’s Episcopalian church. Stay tuned!