13 Apr, 2009 - Easter

Happy Easter! I was contemplating this morning, after the prompting of our fantastic minister, on the meaning that Easter holds for me. I thought of the traditional response of the Easter story in the Bible, but as a non-believer of the Christian faith, I was quickly forced to put that one aside. I then remembered the repeated advocations of this morning's service of Easter as an expression of rebirth, both divine and present. Closer, but still not quite.

I will tell you the meaning of my Easter: food. Please, allow me to explain.

I remember my mother hiding chocolates in the garden for me to find, invariably resulting in my mother attempting to remember where they had all been put when several were found to be missing. One year, she had the brainwave to hide them the night before, resulting in several fox-chewed and even more drizzled-upon chocolates. Yet despite these challenges, every year there was chocolate in the garden, right up until I left home, and I would be dragged around the garden in my mother's excited quest. I remember painting eggshells and decorating the kitchen with yellow tissue paper and bunting.

Easter was also an excuse to cook; we produced heavenly cakes and muffins from our kitchen, much to the delight of those around us. When I was six, I insisted on cooking my father something by myself, which consisted of everything besides the use of the oven. Unfortunately, without a concept of either cooking or when something is inedible, my father was pressured bravely, in an act of pure love, to eat a small cooked tartlet filled with eggshell fragments that crunched delightfully. In fact, I still remember that particular tone of crunch.

My perception of Easter therefore, is one of food; the sharing of a communal gift and expression of love, a sense of joy in exploring the newly-emerging garden and the rather daft adventures of a six-year-old with two sacrificial, egg-crunching parents. Yet all of these memories reach beyond food - to chocolate. Once it was the joys of its sweetness and it's limited availability to my six-year-old self, but there is something else I see in chocolate. Not it's sweetness, or its taste, but rather its production.

Chocolate is brought to us from a bean, processed, blended and tempered into what we see. Is life not exactly like this? We are tiny beans, blended and tempered into sweetness from experience and hardship. The more we live, the more sweeter the joys of life become.

Eat well from the chocolate bar of life, my friends!

19 Mar, 2009 - Attentiveness

I was thinking today about a quote I heard (I can't quite remember where) from Malebranche, a 17th century French Catholic priest, who really sums something up quite nicely.

"Attentiveness is the natural prayer of the soul."

I believe this, wholeheartedly. If one is attentive to the world around them, one sees its beauty, its delights and opens up to every experience, good and bad. That is the essential joy of life - and it is exactly that - essential and REAL! Seeing the world attentively allows me to reach towards the universal. That may seem like a contradiction, but allow me to explain.

Most of us spend our whole lives missing things. We fall over, drop things, make stupid blunders that we've made a thousand times before, we forget and put our foot in it. All the time. In seeing the little things that I would normally miss, I express the worth and dignity of everything I see and do, no matter how stupid, mistaken or tiny they may be. In seeing this wonderful dignity, I see how beautiful the universe is as a building of minute parts, and in this, I feel liberated. Free to reach beyond my everyday, stupid experiences and find the unique within them.

I think Malebranche got it right. When we are attentive to all the little parts of the world, we experience joy and gratidute, and express it in our actions and deeds. It is my hope that these actions are worthy of prayer.

9 Mar, 2009 - Have a little faith...

A few news items caught my attention in the newspaper, which I thought I would share with you.

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Apparently, Italians have been instructed by the Roman Catholic bishops of Italy to go low-tech for Lent, cutting off all technological appliances and refraining from that apparently oh-so-Italian hobby of texting on one's mobile phone every Friday during this period. One diocese suggested that the faithful should not watch television for the month. This can be stretched, for the truly faithful, to cookers, microwaves, washing machines and all those little conveniences of life.

If one wishes to retreat to the true medieval attitude to Lent, one can purchase a washing wrangle, camp in the wilderness in a snow-cave or under bushes and perform some self-mutilation, all for aesthetic glory. Or the faithful could hire a maid for the month, thus fulfilling such requirements.

All this at the same time as the Church is stretching out of its borders and into the internet, with an official Papal YouTube channel. Pope Benedict XVI himself praised social networking sites such as Facebook for their ability to bring people together and spread the word - and yet, those who wish to have a non-face-to-face conversation, or sit blankly watching something on TV, are somehow deemed less "faithful".

Being "faithful" should certainly not be associated with how much TV one watches, or whether one owns a vacuum cleaner! Perhaps that's a personal view, but I think this may be stretching it a little too far. Encourage people to have conversations with each other, rather than with a box or a screen - but do not condemn those who don't! If such things are enjoyed in moderation, go for it!

I do not believe in giving up things for Lent. I am not Catholic, not Christian. However, I do follow Lent, to a degree. I do not give up something, or abstain from the little joys of life; instead I try to pick up something new - perhaps exercise every day, or have a healthier meal, or learn a new skill. Worship should not always be about sacrifice and fear. Sometimes we need a little joy, a few moments of fun and perhaps a little challenge too.

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The other article I noticed was entitled: "Stressed out? Have a little faith", and subtitled: "Religious students remain calmer in the face of errors, study shows".

There are massive flaws in this, which were immediately obvious. They tested 28 people, all of which were required to fit neatly into a named religion-box and asked questions such as whether they would go to war for their faith, or whether their faith was based on objective truth. May I point out, at this point, that neither of these questions quite answer the degree of someone's faith! War for faith depends on the threat presented, and I have never met anyone who could actually say, with vague cohesion, that their faith is objective! A religion separated from personal emotion and opinion - only presenting facts - is not a religion. A religion requires faith, requires that extra moment of emotion that guides your heart, that moment of belief and hope and all associated feelings. Religion for most peole is not rational - it certainly cannot be claimed to be fully rational for all people.

Despite these challenges, the results were that those who were of a strong religion, and thus had a regulated structure or lens through which they view the world were less likely to become stressed when faced with challenges. As far as I am concerned, this is rather obvious. There is less uncertainty, less judgement required in general situations and there is perpetually a wider picture, a sense of being one in a multitude, rather than an isolated unit.

Many Jewish survivors of the Holocaust experienced the same concept at a deeper level; their faith was persecuted because it is so strongly grounded in the here and now, in the truth of this moment and the authority of their traditions, thus prioritising their faith over the authority of the state. But it was precisely this grounding in the present moment that allowed them to survive more strongly and defiantly than the otherwise may have; each moment was, and still is a gift from God and each law must be followed in this moment, each prayer relates to the past and the future, but to both of those elements seen from the second in which the prayer is said. Their reality is daily, earthly and yet still sacred.

I would like to believe that many UU's have the same idea - focussing on the importance of living mindfully and kindly in this moment, seeing the past and future as part of that interdependent web of life that is not only material and spiritual, but also wonderfully temporal. I wonder, if we were faced with such persecutions, would we bear them that well and hold to the importance of dignity and worth? I hope I would. It is my dream to say, one day, that I am certain of that.

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.

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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.

5 Feb, 2009 - Homelessness

There is a quote outside one of the many churches surrounding this area which struck me today. It stated; “Religion [focuses on] the essential homelessness of the human spirit…”

This makes me profoundly uncomfortable. It is certainly true that each one of us suffers some form of homelessness in our lives. Some are physically homeless, perhaps lacking in family comfort, without a shoulder to cry on, or even out on the street, in the doorways, sidewalks and dust of our world. Others, however, are spiritually homeless. Some are both. But I have a sincere problem with both of these.

Firstly, there should not be human creatures starving on the streets, alone and hungry. We have a tendency, as comfortably fed and housed people, to fear those who are not so lucky. We feel uneasy that the comforts we so keenly cling to will no longer be ours if we stop and talk. Not all of these people are quite as decrepit as we sometimes fear - often they are simply people who have ended up down on their luck. No-one should have to suffer in this way. I am saddened that this is the state of the world, and it is my firm belief that as Unitarian Universalists, we have a duty not necessarily towards God, but rather one of social action.

However, my discomfort is primarily with the concept of spiritual homelessness. When I was seeking a faith that would complement my views and provide me with such a wonderful community as I am around today, I indeed felt homeless. I felt as though I was uncomfortable without a religious box; without a dogma, without a creed. When I found a congregation of UU’s that completely clicked with who I was, it did feel as though I had come home. Indeed, I wrote to the minister about two months later, saying:

“I think you might understand when I say I am terrified too. I am not used to having a home, with people who bear the threat of love rather than of hate. I am afraid to give myself a name that I cannot defend, and to leave myself vulnerable to others - afraid of believing… I am so used to having to close the metaphorical door to escape, that here I have found two challenges. I live in a place where that door can never be closed; and I have found a place at UU where it doesn’t need to be.”

But for me, this was not a declaration of having arrived at home - more an expression of having found something more open than that. A place where the door that holds back my fears doesn’t need to be closed, but rather lies open, allowing my fears, but also my hope to balance in the space between. An open door, which allows in the light, but cannot hold back all the darkness. It is this notion of balance that echoes throughout religious teachings across the world. Yin and Yang, Heaven and hell, night and day. And it is this balance that makes UU so special to us all. We do not accept everything we are told blindly, nor do we dismiss it. We consider, hold in the balance, weigh in our hands and gently prod, just to see what happens.

I do not believe that we are homeless, but rather perpetually searching. It was not actual homelessness that I felt, but a fear to question the things which I did not understand. I am sure that many of us have memories of various authority figures telling us that “that’s the way it is”, be it from a disgruntled parent on a long car journey, or a minister, or a friend, or teacher.

We have all been made, at some point, to feel about two inches tall. This is homelessness. The distinction by others of our worthlessness; physical, intellectual or spiritual. The number of times I have heard the phrases ‘Because it is” or “you just have to believe”. That was never something I could accept to do, at least not without convincing. Religion is not caused by the homelessness of the human spirit, but rather the decision to settle into a home of contentment - a labelled and defined space, with an address, postbox and comfortable armchair.

If I actually was at home, I would become comfortable. I would sink into my chair of complacency and stop thinking about the effect of my actions and the tiny beauties I might otherwise miss.

Sometimes, homelessness is a great thing, and forces us to keep asking the questions that we must never stop asking. I hope never to stop asking these questions, but never to accept being completely homeless. Our communities, our families, our friends and the strangers around us form our world, just as much as the bricks and mortars of our homes.