No resting place

Headline on Boston.com: No cemetery so far willing to take Marathon suspect’s body.

No funeral plans have been finalized because “no cemetery has so far said it was willing to accept the remains of Tamerlan Tsarnaev.” His own family did not claim his body for more than a week after his identity was revealed.

In another time, he might have been buried at a crossroad. I wonder if we could handle our grief and anger better if we did this now. It would provide a way to express our fury without hurting anyone else, and it provides a place for his body. If, one day, we feel able to forgive, he can be moved to a place among his fellow humans. For now, though, nothing at all is happening. It appears that independent cemeteries are all refusing him.

You are truly damned if your fellow human beings will not allow your body to lie in the earth.

Kindness and Goodness

I watch the hoarding shows fairly often. I think that some hoarders are bearing the explicit illness brought on by the craziness of all of us. They cannot bear the insane wastefulness they see everywhere; they see beauty and potential utility in everything. They can’t single-handedly fix the madness; in fact, they become mad themselves.

That’s some of the people. Others are more obviousloy mentally ill, unable to help themselves. Unable to understand their own circumstances.

I watch the shows to see that moment when an ordinary person is invited into the chaos. Most of the people who come in are somewhat self-protective. They are as kind as they can be, while keeping a strong emotional distance. But sometimes the people who come in are not as well defended. If they are kind and good, they grieve over what they see.

In the episode I’m watching right now, both the town building inspector and a family member are kind and compassionate. I love their goodness.

This is the episode.

“Prayers for Boston”

Two bombs have gone near the finish line of the Boston Marathon. One went off almost exactly at the finish line.

Of course, in Comments sections all over the web, people are writing “Prayers for Boston” or, simply, “Prayers.” In other email lists, the scoffers are out in full force. “It won’t do any good,” they say. “It won’t undo what happened.”

If prayer is a To Do list for a god who lives in time as we do, locked in the remorseless transformation of every present instant into the irretrievable past, then yes, prayers to magically undo what has happened are indeed useless.

But if prayer is something else, and if God is something else, then prayer is not useless. It is mystical; it is not measurable. It requires faith, which cannot be proven or disproven. Some people lose their faith in the face of terrible tragedy, some don’t. Sometimes prayer is what you do when you have no faith.

Prayer is more than a to-do list for God.

Oh, the Hell with It

No, I’m not giving up on God or Christ or prayer or belief.

But church? God, I’m sick of it.

Once again I have thrown in my lot with a church project. I believe in it. I like the people I’m working with and I value the relationships we’re developing. Projects like this are the only intimacy and community I really have with church members.

It has fallen to me to make phone calls to various clergy. Here’s how I do it:

1. I send an email titled with the impressive name of the committee.I do this in the hopes that it will catch the clerical eye and not get lost in the email avalanche.

2. I explain that we would love to learn about what they’re doing in their churches, and I would like to have a telephone conversation with them for maybe 15 minutes. I send them the list of questions so they know exactly what I will be asking.

3. I get one response. This minister asks me to call him in the evening three days later; I do; he asks to call back 10 minutes later because he is putting his child to bed. I say “Of course.” He never calls back.

4. For the others, who did not respond, I wait several days and then call their offices during work hours. I get their voicemail in all cases and leave polite messages explaining my purpose.

4. One minister responds to my call through email. She has one afternoon available next week; if that doesn’t work, she should be able to talk after a major conference the following week. Sometime between 7 and 14 days from now we may be able to have that 15-minute phone call.

5. Another email or two may be necessary to flush out the other replies. We will play telephone tag and email handshaking for another week or so. Maybe eventually we will even speak!

Here is the truth of modern church life: Everyone Is Too Damned Busy.

The minister who scheduled the phone call — he had a child to put to bed. I’m glad he did that instead. He has the right priority. When he got that done, he was probably still so busy that this call fell off his radar. I understand this.

I also understand that the other minister honestly does not have time to talk for 15 minutes before next week and maybe not even then.

But understanding isn’t the same as feeling OK with it. I hate it. Something is really, really wrong with how we live and how we do church. We (the laity) don’t make the time for it or put the resources into it to have a reasonable-sized staff, yet we want our “church homes” to be all warm and welcoming when we turn to them. We want our clergy to be available — to return phone calls promptly! — and we also expect them to be involved in lots of things that we will warmly admire when we hear about them. I don’t know of any commonly used standard that keeps clergy from killing themselves with work.

I hate this frenzied, contingent, distracted facsimile of community.

Religion is so Stupid

I’m watching a show on National Geographic channel about Easter Island. The thesis is this: people possibly denuded the island of trees in order to transport and set up the immense sculptural heads (the moai). (It’s also possible that rats accidentally imported by the humans who colonized the island ate the seeds of the trees, so they contributed to the problem, too.) Once the trees were gone, their edible fruits were gone and the people lost an importnat source of nutrition. In addition, and the people could no longer create canoes from the tree trunks and therefore could no longer catch large fish. Their diet suffered another major loss.

The moai possibly symbolized the ancestors, or the gods. They were certainly expressions of spiritual beliefs. They had no practical value. This means that a religious obsession caused people to destroy the resources they needed to survive. Oh, great.

After they started starving and fighting each other, the people began attacking each other;’s moai, knocking them over and gouging their eyes out. Great. So, even in their most desperate hours, these people expended precious energy on pointlessly destroying religious symbols.

Religion! my father would say. Don’t get me started on religion.

It’s depressing, I have to say.

Hello Again, World

I’m back. I got terribly discouraged about this web page because every person I hired to help me with it pooped out. But not after keeping me hanging on for weeks.

But I finally got a wonderful person who put the beautiful painting up. It’s wonderful, isn’t it.

What Is the Basis 2

It’s a theological question because the basis for interaction is arbitrary and flimsy, yet the interaction is important. Is that what religious ideas are: the basis for interaction, and it’s the interaction that is the real practice of the religion?

This contrast can give rise to statements that follow a set pattern:

Why, I saw more real Christianity among those [low-status people doing something secular] than among the [stereotypical virtuous caricatures] sitting in church.

That contrast can go completely off the rails, when the criteria for the comparison are unexamined. For example, when my Dad told me that my grandparents enjoyed their Masons activities more than their church activities, so I’d say the Masons were a better church than church was!

Is the criterion for a good church enjoyability? I don’t think so.

However . . . . I do wonder if our discussion groups, sermons, and Bible studies aren’t a kind of soundtrack to the practice of our religion, which is conducted between us, and in our behavior all the rest of the week.

No! God, no! What can I possibly be thinking?

Religious ideas give fuel to behavior, both good and horrible. Food pantries, home visits, subjugation of women, rejection of gay people. How could I even think that religious talk forms a neutral background?

There must be a problem with the religious talk I’ve been hearing. On the good side, it’s not making me sick with rage and despair. On the bad side, I seem to think it’s muzak for the spirit.

What is the basis

This is a religious question:

If a therapee is seated in the room, and the therapist comes in, grabs the therapee’s backpack, dumps the contents on the rug, and jumps up and down on them, is this an acceptable basis for advancing the therapeutic relationship?

Hello from the Past

Picture of oldfashioned child

My grandmother, taken just about 100 years ago.

In just a few months, she would have a high fever that caused her hair to fall out. When she recovered, it grew back in enormous curls. She looked like Shirley Temple, only more beautiful, a generation ahead of time.

When I was a fresh-faced youthful person, I participated in a youth group that did a project on inclusive language. One of our goals was to reduce the amount of numbingly repetitious maleness in the liturgy, and this led to reducing the number of Father-Son-and-Holy-Spirits that occurred in the service.

We’d heard the formulation Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, and were ready to adopt it when Phil, the timid biology major, stepped in. “No!” he said. “The Holy Trinity is one being in three persons; one divine being does all those things, those actions aren’t parceled out to each person uniquely. God the Father was present in Jesus when he redeemed us; God the Father and God the Son are present in the Holy Spirit as it acts in us. We can’t use a formulation that implies that these three persons are separate from each other and have separate qualities!”

He had to do a bit of talking to get us on board, but we all got there and we chose the formulation Who creates, redeems, and sanctifies instead, because it does not divvy up these chores.

Thus,

In the name of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit

became

In the name of God, who creates, redeems, and sanctifies

I like this phrase a lot and found it jarring yesterday when our visiting priest used the phrase Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier.

But then I got to thinking. What language could possibly express division more clearly than the original statement: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Sure sounds like three different beings to me.

Can it be that our inclusive language was an improvement on the original?

Heh!

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