12 Jun, 2009 - Christianity and UU

I came across this rather interesting reference on CUUMBAYA, admittedly from quite some time ago, which I am posting below:

In the latest post in the "Peter Morales for UU President" blog, Morales Addresses “Humanist/Theist” Question, Peter addresses the following question: "Our denomination seems to be undergoing a philosophical shift. Twenty years ago in our congregation, the concept of a “Christian UU” seemed nonsensical. Now our congregation has a Christian UU minister and many of the secular humanists of previous generations, despite the acceptance of diversity that we say we believe in, are feeling bereft - bereft of a sanctuary from the world of deity (Christian or otherwise). The UU church was the one place in many UU’s lives where those who lived to a different drummer, theologically speaking, could live without the expectation that they subscribe to a divine being. Where they could go on a spiritual or religious journey without having to subscribe to the supernatural. How will you lead us as we struggle with this fundamental challenge?"

Truth is, I don't have a clue how that could be done, and I am coming across that challenge more and more often. Rightly or wrongly, I often feel judged by religious people for being spiritual and not set into one tradition, yet ostracised in equal measure by atheists. Several close friends of mine are atheist and certainly do not view themselves as militant in any sense and yet have an uncanny habit of dismissing or angrily debating precisely such issues. With one friend in particular, spirituality is simply not mentioned. I am saddened by this; it is such a huge and beautiful part of my life that I am almost ashamed that I cannot accept his rebukes with more strength. I cannot.

I now find myself in the UK - rather different from the Canadian tradition I have grown accustomed to. I am suddenly finding myself in precisely this divide between the North American UU and the "Christian U" across the pond. I am struggling, I admit. It is certainly not that I am unwelcome, or rejected by Unitarians here, but their worship is very Christian. The Lord's Prayer was read, hymns were decidedly Anglican in style and even the building itself was intensely Christian. The central organisation in the UK is even entitled 'Unitarian and Free Christian Churches'. Different indeed.

I miss my home congregation. I miss its people, its building, its community. The flame at its centre and the light it brought to my life. I miss my friends from beyond the community who accepted UUism as a valid choice, albeit one which didn't suit them. Here, I feel very alone. My university is of equally little consolation, even putting stop to any hint of a multi-faith group being established on the campus. The chaplains are intensely Catholic/Christian. Thus, any mention of my potential Theological study was swiftly followed by my apparent need to hold strict loyalty to the Anglican Church. Umm... no.

I had found a beautiful home, with wonderful, warm-hearted friends and even love - now I have left this all behind and am left with very little consolation.

I hope to find a home here. I hope to find a community that welcomes my out-of-the-box views, and perhaps lacking the Lord's Prayer on Sunday repeat. Thus, I shall keep trying, even within the Unitarian UK groups, to find a more inclusive home. I am not feeling bereft of a sanctuary from Deity distinctions, I rather wish a sanctuary didn't need to be there at all.

3 Apr, 09 - Melancholy

I have a friend who trusts me, deeply, with her personal memories and problems. I am honoured by this, and always hope to be worthy of it.

But what do you say when they simply stop listening? Her boyfriend committed suicide two weeks ago and she has been struggling ever since. I think she guessed that something like this might happen but simply blocked all thoughts away, both blocking her own fears and his closest connection to life. Her guilt is tremendous, although not totally justified. She has never been the most practical, down-to-earth sort of person; although she has suffered greatly, her mind resides wholly in her past and her future, in what she might one day change in the world.

She misses the present completely, because she fears that that will hurt more than her memories. Each time she is in the present, she is in her imagination, in her own world that allows for liberty to create and break the rules. She needs grounding in the present, settling into an experience of the real world that is ambivalent, not coloured by such strong emotions that rock her each time she moves.

I don't know how to help. I have stopped knowing what to say to her, because I know she won't listen. Or at least, I didn't listen. I am fairly sure that I am a terrible listener anyway. But beyond being there, I don't know what to do.

She is missing her life by reaching so far into her imagination or into her past - and she is such a fantastic gift to this world.

Sometimes, people are confused by my personality too - so I can try, and of course, fail to understand. I am often my happiest when I appear most stressed, or upset, or alternatively, most boisterous and active. I find great joy in sitting, on my own, quietly contemplating - it took me a while to learn joy in this. I love being with my friends, but I always have a streak of melancholy. Yet that is a joy to me. It helps me to see the world in balance, as clearly as I am able. I have even lost friends because I appear quiet and melancholic, when their enjoyment is derived from clubbing and activity. I must have seemed, and still seem overly depressed, saddened by the world. I understand the difficulty of others to see this as joy.

I hope she may be able to find some joy, even in melancholy.

I wish I knew how to help.

24 Feb, 2009 - Mysticism and anorexia

I love the academic world. It is certainly not due to the politics and competition, nor the library fines and perpetual holds on that-book-you-needed, nor the damage it does to my bank account. It is the potential hope it holds. The academic world has its own creed - that of the uninhibited attaining of knowledge and the open sphere of free debate. Too often, universities propagate exactly the opposite. A lecturer stands at the front of a room and simply speaks to the empty vessels sitting in front of them, communicating knowledge directly, and without question. Too often, I have been guilty of sitting in lectures and simply absorbing, blindly, the knowledge that is thrown towards me. I am that tabula rasa, that clay pot into which knowledge is poured, and promptly deposited back out. For those who have read Charles Dickens's Hard Times, this reference will be even stronger.

But there are some lectures that, when I leave the room, have completely shaken up my whole worldview, and shown me a complete new world. This wonderful teacher noted the potential links between medieval mystics, who were predominately female, and people of all sexes who suffer from anorexia nervosa.

I need to think about this further before I complete this post.

________________________________________

25th March:

To a completion of this - it has taken me far too long, I realise.

For women in the medieval times, at least as far as Caroline Banyum can see, food was their primary source of power, in more ways than one. They had control over food in their households and over their husbands, meaning that they had increased authority over their own eating, but also over the threat of poisoned food for their husbands. There are many recorded allegations of wives poisoning or medicating the food of their husbands to serve their own ends, although to what degree this is the case is another matter. As such, food was where their authority lay. Also, restriction of food and charity were ways in which women could overcome the standard misogynistic perceptions of male as spirit and female as flesh in an emulation of Christ. Further, the Eucharist held an increased significance for many women, particularly mystics, as when fasting, it held a nourishing quality that then led to the notion of a nourishing, feminised God, thus allowing women to place themselves beyond the 'flesh' and literally in the same spirit of God.

Certainly not all cases of fasting were classed as mystical; Catherine of Siena referred to her own condition as an "infirmity". It all depends on definitions: if one takes the classical Catholic distinctions between "natural" (psychological / physiological / sociological) and "mystical" (supernaturally-caused) fasting, female activity becomes fully polarised. I am not sure if I agree; some mystics may have indeed suffered from physiological ailments and yet perceived their own conditions as spiritual, increasing their power and subverting the male gaze. The alternative (and somewhat problematically, more modern) definitions fit better: modern scholars note a difference between "a strong desire for thinness" and "the self-restriction of food when food is plentiful" - the latter definition is divorced from direct links to anorexia, whilst still allowing for genuine mystical choice.

These women viewed spirituality as their way of holding on to control - their requirement to be faithful and pious was still present, but there was still active liberation allowed within this. In a modern study (Pandolfo) of women in Egypt turning to wearing the hijab as an expression of faith, a distinction is noted between "negative" and "positive" freedom, "negative" freedom requiring each choice to be made free of any forms of coercion, as opposed to "positive" freedom, in which choices must be made with a sense of "universal reason", thus inherently allowing for their choice to wear the veil, despite challenges, to be deemed free. Many criticise this choice as upholding a dominant male superiority view - yet for many of these women, their choice is the will of God and they are trained into pious behavior out of choice to worship.

In the modern West, as I have often noted, we experience emotion or passion, which then leads to action. If I am hungry, I eat. If I am tired, I sleep. In the medieval West, and in areas beyond European boundaries, there is often a greater focus on self-education; an action, e.g. the wearing of the hijab is deemed necessary and the passion and emotion associated with this action is built up slowly, out of conscious action. This is no less freedom - it is merely different freedom.

This all causes me to wonder at the lengths we go to to keep control, to hold on to our steady views of how the world should be. Our concepts of freedom are distorted - in the medieval times, women would have certainly acknowledged the requirement of self-education and the development of passion from action. Our freedom is no less worthy than theirs. For medieval women, their authority was exercised by drawing the other, the strange and the uncomfortable into themselves, and expressing it for all the world to see - indeed, their restriction was their liberation. This was happening even a hundred years ago within the Catholic faith, as Saint Gemma Galgani's worthiness was doubted by a diagnosis of hysteria. Her actions were no less worthy, and to prove this, she embraced her illness saying that this would make her a better lover of God and better loved by God. She embraced the definition others gave her, and turned it into her strength.

I need to do this more often too. It is a wonderful strength, to be able to absorb the challenges of others, accept them and use them to form a better self. When people dismiss me, or harm me, if only I had the ability to form that hatred into love. Perhaps that is where her sanctity resided - not in her illness, but in her hope despite it.

19 Feb, 2009 - The Man who Danced...

Today has been a long, hard day. Not a bad day - I try to remind myself that there is no such thing as a bad day, only a day of challenges and hard moments. But it was certainly full of those, and I have shed tears.

I lied today. A lie which did little damage, but changed the shape of the universal web, and a lie which was simply that - a lie. It did no harm but was still not right. I am sorry for that. As part of a conversation on sin within UU beliefs, Franke recounted a memory of her father’s view on deceit - that it simply wasn’t useful and thus did not merit use. I feel like a coward at this point, but sometimes, I need those little white lies. I will become stronger and try not to. It is something I must work on.

However, since I have started writing here, I have become perpetually conscious of my environment, more so than before. This is the source of the title of this post - the man who danced. I was sitting in a coffee shop, attempting (and failing) to read various articles for next week’s work, when I happened to glance up at those around me. Directly in front of the table was a medium-tall young man, with medium length, blonde hair, who was jigging, miming words, and stamping his foot surreptitiously. He was smartly dressed, a suit and conservative looking tie. However, my gaydar twinged slightly at his movements, and his smiling dance was so infectious, that I soon found myself smiling too. I saw a mixture of reactions; some stepped away awkwardly, some glared, others attempted to ignore. The man simply didn’t care. He knew that beyond the music of his headphones was a world of vague and undefined condemnation of such strange practices as a grown, suited man dancing in the queue of a coffee shop, but for him, that didn’t matter. I need to learn to live despite people’s judgements, and not be controlled or suppressed by them.

I am repeatedly shocked by the views of many of the people I am surrounded by here, namely due to my living in a very conservative area. My roommate freely expresses condemnation, and despite professing adamantly to not being a homophobe, these tendencies are clear. She judges and justifies her faith via her judgements, and life for her is simply black and white. Repeatedly, she has told me that she does not have the right to judge who goes to hell, but only is certain of her place in heaven, along with all those who believe in the traditional image of Jesus Christ. To be honest, I shudder at that heaven. However, I also fear her vision of hell, and fear ending up there, despite not actually believing in such a place. Rather, it is the hell that she has created and in which I have been placed that I fear - I do not wish to be condemned to even one person’s eternal damnation, within her heart. That is not fair, just or merciful. I fear her. So I have moved to have my own space - unfortunately, pettiness has ensued. I honestly believe that I am not at fault, but long story short, I feel judged, damned and she simply wishes all elements that infer my previous presence removed, despite their cost. That hurts, more than I can say.

Tonight was also interesting - a religious book meeting I attended that is normally intensely provocative and rewarding, left me feeling cold. I am simply feeling stressed from this whole roommate issue, and some of the other battles of life. The topic of conversation turned to how we can effect change in our world and I expressed the difficulties I had had volunteering for groups based here. I was reassured of people’s generosity and open-heartedness, and welcomed to at least two voluntary groups within ten minutes.

But there was one surprise I had not expected. After the meeting, I was approached by an elderly gentleman, Doug. He asked me what I studied, and where - I answered him simply and honestly. At this point, he knew these answers, my name, a love for volunteering and an interest in trauma studies. He then asked me if I was considering ministry. Very curt, very short, very kindly spoken.

“Are you considering ministry?”

Such a simple question, and I have no idea how to reply. At the time, I said that I had not really considered it as a viable option up till now, and that I had to consider such questions further when the need arose. But here was a stranger, who knew so little about me, and yet saw something that caused him to ask that question. I didn’t think about the impact of this tiny question when I spoke, but now, I wonder what caused him to ask. Our elders often have wise words and vivacious advice to give - what did he see? There was another man in the coffee shop today who was speaking with a deaf elderly lady, who, he told me, was the wisest person he knew. If only I could see my choices with wide eyes, and see what lies ahead on the road of life.

I think at the moment, my answer to this four word question is… “Yes”. I am terrified, but overjoyed that someone might have seen enough in me, even as a stranger, to acknowledge that I might actually have a home as a minister within a church community. That I might have a gift for surrounding others with a sense of faith, in whichever form that may appear to them.

I feel blessed and valued by the strangers of this world, and judged by those closer by. How am I to understand that?

18 Feb, 2009 - Human Doings

I heard a wonderful gentleman named Doug remark, as part of a Living in Spirit group on Sunday morning that “We are not human beings, but human doings.” I would agree. We are not human beings. We don’t know how to be. By this, I am not referring to the word human, rather, he was noting the little word “being”. We don’t stop to think about the meanings of that little word, parked onto the end of such a common phrase. “We are not human beings, but human doings”. How right he was!

I am terrible at being. A significant percentage of the world’s religious text profess to the glories of being, and yet whilst typing these deep theological musings, I profess to being wholly inadequate. I struggle to stop and think, to let go of the past and accept the chances and dangers of the future. I am sometimes unable to see the world through the eyes of a child - each glance filled with such wonder that even the slightest joys are noticed and welcomed. I am preoccupied with the laundry, the washing up, the work I have to do. That little To-Do list that is forever and inevitably expanding to encompass my whole world, my whole being. In all these doings, I lose my being.

Yet listening to the others in the group professing their need to live more in the moment, I felt rather uncomfortable. I personally, do not wish to live only in the moment. I love remembering the special moments of my past, reliving the moments, good and less so, that have shaped the person I have become, and a person I am proud to be. I cannot live without my past, nor can any of us do so. Equally, I cannot live without my dreams. My To-Do list of impossible proportions - all the places I will see, the loves I will have, the work I will do. I love imagining where I might be in five or ten years from now. Such a simple act as dreaming away my time, for me, is deeply worthwhile and keeps me following my heart. Even in the moment, I often struggle “being”. It has become easier to sit and meditate, but sometimes the clutter and noise of my daily live follows me into my solitude and sanctuary. The other day, I was plagued by reincarnations of Spice Girls hits from my younger years.

Even here, I have further problems. I am slightly ashamed to say, I love wasting my time, watching the odd piece of terrible television or listening to disastrous music hits, or reading a book designed for an eight year old. These things are part of my joys, part of my pleasures, and part of my being.

I have a new term to suggest. Instead of being in the moment, I would ask you all to consider “being in the moments”. That one little letter can encompass both our pasts and our futures, and allow us to forge a way onwards together.

I am a human doing. Yet to me, this brings to mind the whole glorious structure (or lack of it) of the UU’s. We have always been a group of social and political activists, of people who do not fear saying what needs to be said and seeking open and communal understanding of all things. We have environmental societies, coffee mornings, children’s groups, music and dance clubs and the general mayhem that springs so joyfully from our wonderful congregation. Thus, I encourage you all to wear this phrase with pride.

I am a human doing living with joy and compassion in all the moments of my life.

I remember the strengths and pains of my past, I delight in the dreams and courage that leads me into my future, I cherish the seconds I have in each second that I live them - and from the gift of all of these things, I act as a human doing, to change the world for the better, in any way I am able to try. I feel like shouting from the rooftops: I am a human doing!

So go into the world, and go from this moment with deepest happiness. Let us profess to brave and beautiful action, and become the doings of our world.

14 Feb, 2009 - Mattering

Today was quite a day. There were disputes, disgruntlements and several depressing classes. Each of these disputes and disgruntlements were so petty, stupid and insignificant, that I decided not to get involved particularly. I have apparently lost my passion, and I simply don’t have the will to stick up for myself quite so much. As yet, I am undecided whether this is a good or bad thing.

I got upset. I get upset easily when anger is involved, and I suppose I am too afraid. To me, these petty issues matter so little that I am not willing to defend them. This terrifies me. What if, when something really important comes along, I do not have the strength to say anything. The next holocaust, or someone in pain at my potential danger. Would I have the courage to step forward? I do not know…

Someone I know told me not to live in fear yesterday. And today, she was arguing with me over a vase. I walked away, bought a vase for $2 and got on with my life. Was I wrong in doing that, and simply avoiding confrontation? Somehow, I don’t feel wrong. I feel weak, but that felt right, and I am now sitting in my room, with my vase and some beautiful flowers. Tomorrow I will pin up photos from home and pictures I love, go to the gym for a while (perhaps the pool), relax a bit and read. Lots of reading. Tuesday has been set aside for myself and my wonderful, dear friend to go for paninis’ and random exploration, and generally get out of the boxes in which we live.

However, despite all these petty things, today was very deep for me. I have a double Holocaust history class, followed by a seminar, and I always leave the room thinking, for better or worse. Today, we watched sections from Shoah, one of the greatest testimony recordings ever created (and I use that word specifically). I started thinking, and didn’t really stop all day, ending up watching Paperclips.

Nothing was graphic as such - simply symbolic gestures of all levels. I cried. I cried in Shoah, very almost in Paperclips, and certainly did after the dispute with my friend. Today, I am fragile. But somehow, I am delighting in that fragility. Tomorrow, (before the gym?) I am planning on picking up the films Bent, Shoah and perhaps God on Trial. This is very hard for me, but very good. My ministry, my studies and I myself will become better from the battles I face, including those I step away from. Some things matter more.