Sunday, August 29, 2010

A Rant

I'm going to stop arguing online about Islam and the proposed mosque in New York. I'm tired of and saddened by the fact that I feel like I'm on a completely different planet from people who disagree with me, especially brothers and sisters in Christ.

But first, I have to express my outrage at the fact that the site of the new Islamic center in Murfreesboro, TN has been torched.

[Just to warn you: this is going to be a rant. Don't bother picking apart my rhetoric. I'm angry.]

No. This is outrageous. Whether your argument against the building of mosques in this country stems from an "American" or a "Christian" argument, THIS IS WRONG. I know most people opposed to building the mosque in NY would never condone such action, but especially to folks who support stuff like burning the Quran--do you not see the slippery slope here?

This video is obviously a humor bit, but what I find terrifying is that people can hear what this woman (the leader of the anti-mosque movement in Murfreesboro) is saying and not realize that IT IS INSANE. I've been trying really hard to be gracious and to try to see things from the other side, and let me just say that I know that there are reasonable arguments against the mosque in NY, and I know there are concerns about violence in the Quran (to which I respond, ever read the story about Elisha having she-bears tear children apart for calling him "baldhead" or the psalm about dashing children's heads against the rocks?), but THIS IS RIDICULOUS.

Please. Please, set aside the numbers and statistics that come from God-knows-where. Go talk to a Muslim. When I took an Islamic civilization course in undergrad, my spiritual life was inspired to new life by hearing from several teachers of Sufism (Islamic mysticism). We have something to learn from Islam. And if we choose only to learn from jihadists, we are no better than they are.

I can't even laugh at this video right now.


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Thursday, August 26, 2010

Laundry for Jesus

Earlier this month, I was in the wedding of one of my dear friends from Duke. It was a beautiful ceremony, but the hours and minutes leading up to it were predictably hectic. The maid of honor was late because the getaway car, which she was to park in front of the venue, wouldn't start; we forgot about the boutineers until the moment we were lining up to process in; and the wedding bands were left at the hotel and had to be retrieved by the significant others of myself and another bridesmaid while we assured the bride we had them on location. At some point, one of the groomsmen commented to me that a wedding seems a whole lot less organized when you're a part of the behind-the-scenes action.

That's not just true for weddings--it's true for worship in general. This year, I'm working as an intern with the chaplain's office in the Divinity School, so I get to help plan and lead worship in Goodson Chapel. This week, I've been helping out with services that are being held as a part of new student orientation. Yesterday morning's opening worship was wonderful, and I enjoyed simply being there. We sang great hymns and the third year student nominated to preach did an incredible job.

Perhaps my favorite part came after the service. I had just been on hand to help with whatever came up, and afterward I went back to the sacristy to assist in the cleanup. When I asked what I could do to help, I was handed a wad of linens from communion and a Clorox bleach pen. My major contribution to worship yesterday was to rub bleach on the grape juice stains on the napkins, then toss them in the laundry bag hanging on the closet door.

This wasn't the first time laundry had come up as a part of my job. This past Monday, we had our first worship planning meeting, and one official point of business was to decide who had a washer and dryer and would be responsible for laundering the linens as needed. I ended up being assigned laundry duty.

I love the fact that things like laundry are a significant part of the behind-the-scenes stuff that goes into making worship happen. A wedding ceremony may look like a fairy tale to a guest and yet be fraught with all sorts of improvisation, mother-of-the-bride meltdowns and overlooked details; and worship may look glamorous and other-worldly to a congregation member, but it's really just a bunch of people doing what they can to honor the God to whom they owe their lives. Those people make typos in the bulletin or powerpoint, forget to take up the offering, and mispronounce Biblical names. We are children working together to produce a crayon drawing for our patient, loving father. And to him, that drawing is every inch a masterpiece of love.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

The Need for Nuance

Last fall semester, I had an irritating experience in a class discussion. Our preceptor had asked us a question pertaining to the day's readings, and she wanted a "yes" or a "no." As it turned out, the answer (per my view, confirmed by my dad and other smarter people) was "yes, but." I tried to argue my point against my preceptor's response of "no," but she wouldn't budge.

What annoyed me about that interaction is part of what troubles me about the state of opinion and politics in this country today: an utter lack of nuance. We want the answer to every question to be simple, direct and efficacious, which is a misguided expectation that alienates us from the reality that the world is complicated. We not only lack the ability to see in shades of grey, we don't even really think it matters to be able to do that. The thing is, being a Christian absolutely depends on paradox and nuance. I'll get to that point in a minute.

The result is that we as a people are quick to jump to conclusions, to extrapolate from delicate situations and statements, and to take things to extremes in discourse. In doing so, both sides lose sight of any common ground they might once have shared. Opponents' languages become completely estranged--once each side holes up in their extreme position, the original issue has been distorted and each side is talking about something totally different. No wonder we don't understand each other.

It's not our fault. I read somewhere that America as a nation has suffered something similar to post-traumatic stress disorder in the world after 9/11. This past March, my dad wrote an article for The Charlotte Observer entitled, "Has rancor become unbeatable foe?" In it, he noted this very phenomenon:

"After we endured the numbing body blow of 9-11, we then suffered the horrifying implosion of the economy: everybody's a little bit crazy. Everybody's scared. Nobody really knows which way to turn; we lunge, we shout, we grab onto the last vestige of what we used to cling to - so naturally we're difficult to be with, and so is the other guy."

We're all a little crazy, a little scared and a lot defensive. Most recently, I've been saddened by the "conversations" surrounding the proposed Islamic community center to be built right at two blocks from Ground Zero. I already posted a blog about this controversy, but there are two aspects of the issue that I think have to do with this need for nuance.

First, I'm troubled by the inability of many Americans to differentiate between the majority of the Muslim world and al-Qaeda. Part of the problem here is that there is a wealth of ignorance about the religion of Islam. Ron Ramsey likened it to a "cult," which is ridiculous seeing that 23% of the global population identifies as Muslim. Also, the Dove World Outreach Center's sponsorship of "International Burn a Koran Day" shows an appalling obliviousness to the contents of the Quran; I've commented that there are enough parallel passages between the Bible and the Quran to equate burning a Quran with burning parts of the Bible.

The fact that almost one in five Americans believe that President Obama is Muslim is also troubling, not only because it's wrong and implies racism but also because I'm sure that to those people, being Muslim is a bad thing. Obama is not Muslim, but so what if he were? Again, it's this inability (or unwillingness?) to distinguish between mainstream Islam and al-Qaeda. Just today, a black man in a skull cap (with, might I add, an easily visible Under Armor logo on the front) was accosted by protesters at Ground Zero, who assumed he was Muslim. See this video of the confrontation.

I'm also bothered by controversy that's been stirred up over the imam of the proposed mosque, Feisal Abdul Rauf. I heard a clip on NPR recently that related an outcry over comments he made shortly after 9/11. Rauf said, "I wouldn't say that the United States deserved what happened, but the United States policies were an accessory to the crime that happened." People are outraged at the implication that the blood of the 9/11 victims is not only on the hands of the terrorists but also to some extent on the hands of U.S. policy makers. Of course, the way people frame it is by saying that the imam believes we deserved the 9/11 attacks.

But I'm with Rauf on this one. Concerning opposition to U.S. policy in the Muslim world, Rauf said, "It is a reaction against the policies of the US government, politically, where we espouse principles of democracy and human rights and where we ally ourselves with oppressive regimes in many of these countries." We do that. Some of the decisions we make in international relations are wrong. Some of our foreign policy lacks necessary nuance, like our unquestioning support of Israel. Why are we so surprised when people hate us?

I hate the fact that songs like "America the Beautiful" are in the United Methodist Hymnal. (That's another discussion.) But there's a verse of that song that doesn't get sung--or listened to even if it is sung--often:

America! America!
God mend thine ev'ry flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law.

Why is it so impossible to think that we might be wrong? Why can't we look at the tragedy of 9/11 and say that although we didn't deserve it--no country or people deserves something like that--we have made decisions that contributed to the terrorists' motives? Why are we constantly running around trying to fix everyone else's problems but are unable or unwilling to admit to our own?

Let me pull this back around full circle. (Warning: my brain synthesizes information like crazy, so I may have connected some dots that don't align in everyone's mind, at least not right away. Bear with me.) We need to be able to understand and utilize nuance. We need to be able to acknowledge prophetic speech about shortcomings without perceiving it as an attack. We need to be willing to learn and to listen, not to lump people into a group because of their faith or race or country of origin. We need to be able to hold ideas in tension and not succumb to the temptation to cast everything in stark terms.

If we explore the Christian faith thoughtfully, we find that all of these things are demanded of us by the Bible and by church tradition. The prophets, God's messengers, rarely had complimentary things to say. Jesus is fully God and fully man. We must be in the world but not of the world. To believe and live out such things, we must be humble and discerning. We need to let go of our pride. We need to live in the unresolved tensions. We need nuance.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

David Wilcox and St. John of the Cross

If you've never heard of David Wilcox, remedy that immediately. The singer-songwriter is an incredible musician, artist and storyteller. His music is intelligent, clever and beautiful, and he is not afraid to tackle themes of politics, spirituality, addiction and more, all held together with songs about things like Waffle House.

He's released a number of wonderful records over the years, but the one I continually come back to is Live Songs & Stories. Wilcox is remarkable on stage. He talks while tuning his guitar, makes jokes and tells beautifully woven stories about his songs.

There are lots and lots of songs by Wilcox I could share, but I was just listening to his song "If it Wasn't for the Night" (not on the album I referred to, but still), and it struck me because it alludes to St. John of the Cross, specifically his famous poem "The Dark Night of the Soul." My roommate asked the other day if I had read that work--I had, in a religious poetry class in undergrad, and I really ought to go back to it.

Here are some of the lyrics of Wilcox's song:

If it wasn't for the night
So cold this time of year

The stars would never shine so bright

So beautiful and clear


Ah heck, just go listen, not only to that song but to just about everything Wilcox has put out. :)

Friday, August 20, 2010

Reaching Out (a quote from Henri Nouwen)

"Only when we have come in touch with our own life experiences and have learned to listen to our inner cravings for liberation and new life can we realize that Jesus did not just speak, but that he reached out to us in our most personal needs. The Gospel doesn't just contain ideas worth remembering. It is a message responding to our individual human condition. The Church is not an institution forcing us to follow its rules. It is a community of people inviting us to still our hunger and thirst at its tables. Doctrines are not alien formulations which we must adhere to but the documentation of the most profound human experiences which, transcending time and place, are handed over from generation to generation as a light in our darkness." -- Henri Nouwen, Reaching Out

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Cliques As Community?

On August 31, I'll attend my first American Christianity class to kick off my second year of seminary. I'm excited to go back to school. Last year was rough for me in a lot of ways, but my field ed experience this summer helped me to get reoriented and re-energized. I have a fresh sense of my vocation and how being at Duke Divinity School is an important part of realizing my calling.

There is one part of my life as a student these days that leaves me with a lingering sense of intimidation. My roommate and I commented the other day that neither of us put as much effort as maybe we should have into making new friends in the Div School. A lot of that was because, having been Duke undergrads, we had friends from college who remained a priority, many of them still in our geographic vicinity. Whatever the reason, both of us want to try harder to be a part of the social life at DDS this year.

The thing is, the Div School is incredibly clique-ish. Especially being someone who has always floated among various friend groups, at first glance, that reality is scary.

Of course, I know that the reason tight, easily identifiable friend groups develop at DDS is because almost everyone in the school is longing for, or has been indoctrinated with the idea of, genuine community. My dad's best friends to this day are men with whom he was in seminary. No one gets the struggles of a pastor more than another pastor. Whether we are pursuing ordained ministry, nonprofit work or a Ph.D., most of us are headed for a lifetime of work that will be fulfilling at times and difficult always. It is vital for each of us that we can begin to build lasting friendships and accountability/support groups now while we're in school, because the ministry can sometimes be an incredibly lonely, isolating vocation, ironically.

I'm not going to whine about cliques in the Div School. This isn't Mean Girls. I do think it's a pattern of which we as seminarians all need to be aware. Fortunately, I have already witnessed a broadness of care and concern within my own class that has manifested itself socially and academically. This past spring, a classmate of mine started a Google Group called DukeDivShare, where countless students uploaded exhaustive study guides, class notes, summaries of readings and more. There are tests I would have failed without the help of my generous classmates. I felt so lucky to be at DDS and not in law or medical school, having heard stories of students hiding or hoarding books to keep other students from affecting their grades. And when spring semester was rough for me, a surprising number of students I didn't know that well would check on me and encourage me.

So, yeah. Let's examine our friend groups. I know I've gravitated toward my friends from Duke undergrad for the most part. I want to branch out more this year. Let's be friends. :)

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

"There, where they burn books, they will in the end burn people."

When I returned to my house in Durham a few days ago, I found one minor but interesting change had been made to my room by our summer sub-letters. I have two small posters of Islamic calligraphy that I got when I took an Islamic Civilization class in undergrad. I had left them on the wall since they were attached with adhesive, and when I got back, they had been moved from the wall to the outside of the door to my room. I am in no way upset by this--I told the guys sub-letting to feel free to move things from the wall, I just left most of it up for simplicity's sake on my end. But since my large poster of Picasso's "The Old Guitarist," several framed photos from my travels, and a few other decorations stayed up, I know that the removal of the calligraphy was intentional and pointed.

Now that's fine. The funny thing is, neither of the texts represented in those calligraphy works is explicitly Muslim. They're in the Ottoman style (I believe at least one of them is in Turkish), and one translates, "O Lord, refine me!" while the other says simply, "Be!", a reference to God's act of speaking the world into being. No Shahada (which I think is depicted in this image, actually) or anything like that.

Already musing over that event, I came across this article in the News & Observer, written by Richard Hays, my adviser and the new dean of the Divinity School. The title is "WWJD? Not burn the Quran," and it is an editorial in response to the planned Quran burning sponsored by Dove World Outreach Center (a, um, "New Testament church" in Gainesville, Florida). You can learn more on their Facebook page, entitled "International Burn a Koran Day."

I posted the link on Facebook and watched in amusement as myself and my friends spawned a 44-comment (at last count) debate of sorts over Quran burning, the Islamic cultural center being built near Ground Zero, Islamic law, etc. The thing is, I could tell that people were just talking on different planes. People opposed to the building of the mosque (and even one or two who support burning Qurans) simply weren't talking about the same things as people on the other side.

The funny thing is, I'm not sure the people opposed to the building of the mosque even read Hays' article. He talks about a Holocaust memorial in Germany with a plaque that reads, "There, where they burn books, they will in the end burn people." Even if a person isn't directly supportive of International Burn a Koran Day, the ignorance and malice that is a part of that whole attitude is extremely dangerous.

And that's the thing--most non-Muslims don't know a thing about Islam. I only have what little I gleaned from an admittedly easy Islamic Civ class, but the way people talk about the Quran and Sharia law makes it clear they have no idea what they're talking about. The Quran and the Bible have a number of parallel passages (though I suppose the Dove World Outreach Center wouldn't care, since those are mainly from the Old Testament) and Sharia law breeds extremism only in the same way reading the Bible results in intolerant fundamentalism.

Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote a book I really love called The Dignity of Difference. [Sidebar: Chief Rabbi = Archbishop of Canterbury for Jews. And, um, Archbishop of Canterbury = Pope for Anglicans. Roughly.] In it he says, "Covenant tells me that my faith is a form of relationship with God--and that one relationship does not exclude others." He cites Isaiah 19: "The Egyptians and Assyrians will worship together. In that day Israel will be third, along with Egypt and Assyria, a blessing on earth. The Lord Almighty will bless them, saying, 'Blessed be Egypt my people, Assyria my handiwork, and Israel my inheritance.'" Those words are shocking even if they don't translate directly to modern sensibilities.

Now, I'm not saying that all paths lead to God. Although, to quote the popular Christian novel The Shack: (Jesus responding to the question of whether all roads lead to him) "Not at all...most roads don't lead anywhere. What it does mean is that I will travel any road to find you." Faith is not about claiming to have a corner on truth over against everyone else. It is a gift to be shared, not a possession to be defended. Our witness should be a loving overflow of the joy we find in our faith, not an attack using it as a weapon.

I could say more about that and probably will later, but for now, I'm gonna say (to my readers and to myself): examine yourselves for bigotry, which isn't just about race, it's about a stubborn adherence to your own views and intolerance of all others (see Wikipedia). Now, being open to other views and beliefs does not mean accepting them in lieu of your own, so I'm not telling you to believe in Allah. But especially among the Abrahamic faiths, there is so much we can learn from each other that we just lose when we equate Muslims with terrorists and live in a self-imposed culture of fear and suspicion.

And now, I end this post with some humor. Here's a segment from The Daily Show on the mosque controversy.


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Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Audrey Assad // The House You're Building


My roommate recently got me into a Christian musician named Audrey Assad. She's got a powerful sound, and her lyrics echo people like St. Augustine ("Restless"). She reminds me somewhat of Brooke Fraser, whom I adore. Check it out.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

"Faithful" Brooke Fraser

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

I Like the Way It Hurts

Eminem is a figure that has always interested me. He is phenomenally talented, but his life is so broken and full of anger that a lot of the work he does just turns my stomach. My boyfriend has speculated that if Eminem were to use his talents for the good of others, he could do some incredible things--the whole "From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required" (Luke 12:48) thing--but he is bound by the world and his rage.

So the first time I heard his new song "Love the Way You Lie," featuring R&B singer Rihanna, I listened with cautious interest. I love that song. Rihanna's hook is catchy (I've started covering it myself as part of an acoustic mash-up with another chart-topping rap song lately), the beat is solid, and the chord progression, simple as it is, adds an element of longing and regret to the sound.

Of course, some of the song's lyrics make me uncomfortable. "Next time I'm just gonna aim my fist at the drywall." "If she ever tries to ----ing leave again, I'm a tie her to the bed and set this house on fire." Yikes. Save for that last part (the parting line in Eminem's rap before Rihanna closes the song out with the hook again), I even like the words of the song, because it seems to be a raw exposure of the cycle of domestic violence. Rihanna herself was a victim of highly publicized violence from her then-boyfriend Chris Brown and has since become an advocate for women in abusive relationships.

But is the song glorifying domestic violence? This article from the Associated Press thoughtfully treats the question. The song's video debut recently added to the controversy, for in it actors Megan Fox and Dominic Monaghan portray a couple locked in a passionate but violent relationship. (I'm embedding the video at the end of this post--I think it's well done, so check it out.)

The question is, how do young people, especially young women, interpret this song and the accompanying video? Artists and entertainers these days tend to just throw things out there and leave their audience to draw their own conclusions, which may or may not be a good thing. Artists like Lady Gaga and Ke$ha (though Gaga is slowly redeeming herself in my eyes to some extent) drive me crazy because they put out all this music glorifying rampant partying, and although friends have argued with me that they're not taking themselves seriously, the average 15-year-old girl isn't necessarily going to catch onto that even if it is the case.

One thing that AP article pointed out is that a song like "Love the Way You Lie" can do something positive, and that is to encourage young people to talk about the issues it brings up. Perhaps the song is intentionally ambiguous in its message, and if young women have someone they can talk to about such things, the questions the lyrics and imagery bring up can be important starters to conversations about relationships, self-worth and more.

The key is that something like this song must be coupled with discussion and education. Not everyone is going to assume that the relationship depicted is a negative example. This makes me think back to my Old Testament class last year, where we took a hard look at some of the war and violence in the Hebrew Bible and talked through the possibility that some of these images are meant as warnings, not as permission to ride to war in the name of God. But without thoughtful, well-informed conversation on the subject, it would be easy to conclude that the Old Testament essentially condones the use of overwhelming military force to the benefit of God's people.

My plea to parents and other adults who are connected to young people is this: don't dismiss or forbid popular music like this. Kids are going to be listening to and talking about Eminem and Rihanna whether you approve or not. Talk to them about the lyrics and the images. Make them think about what they're saying when they sing along to the radio. Without that corrective thought process, kids are ingraining far more into themselves than they or we realize. We can allow songs like "Love the Way You Lie" to glorify domestic violence or to expose it. We have that power.


Sunday, August 1, 2010

How Christians Make God Look Like a Jerk


This is from this week's collection of postcards from the online community PostSecret. [Check out this post from the Duke Divinity blog Confessio on PostSecret coming to campus.] The moment I saw it, I knew I was going to blog about it.

Unfortunately, I have seen and heard about many instances of people, especially Christians, saying incredibly insensitive things out of good intentions in tragic circumstances. Cliches like "it was her time," "he's in a better place," "it was God's will" and more can be heard at just about any funeral. And although the gesture may be appreciated, it is often drowned in the patronizing character of such sayings, unintended though it may be. Sure, maybe he is in a better place; but his wife, his children, his friends--they want him here.

To say something like "it was God's will" really comforting, or is it a feeble attempt at explaining the unexplainable? We are constantly looking for a "reason" for events big and small in our lives and in the world. But sometimes the reason is something simple and obvious, not metaphysical at all, and sometimes the reality of cancer, an accident or other sudden death is too hard to bear, and so we pan it off on God.

I've been thinking a lot about Molly McKay lately. We're just a few weeks shy of marking 10 years to the day that she's been dead. Molly was a UNC student who spent her last summer among us volunteering with the youth group at Davidson United Methodist Church, where I was in the middle school group at the time. I remember being in the carpool line to school when my dad got the call that she had been killed in a head-on collision with a car that had crossed the median on the highway. Molly was on her way back to school and had just stopped by his office to tell him goodbye.

Not long after Molly's death, I remember my mom asking me if I thought God had taken Molly away. I pondered the question for a moment, then responded, "No. I don't think he took her. But I believe he welcomed her." I know what "took" Molly--a terrible accident that could not have been foreseen and from which her family will never fully recover. The God in whom I believe does not snatch beautiful, intelligent, selfless young women away at random simply because his will so dictates.

Of course, God being God, Molly's life has left an indelible mark on the lives of many and continues to do so even for young people who never knew her. The Molly McKay Youth House at Davidson UMC is tangible proof of that, as is a scholarship at UNC established in her memory. God's redemptive power runs strong and deep, but the fact that good came out of Molly's death does not in any way diminish its tragedy. If anyone dared then or dares now to tell the McKays that her death was God's will, I don't want to know about it.

In the face of tragedy, no one knows what to say. There are no magical words to make things better, and oftentimes if we feel ourselves saying something, we realize it's more intended to soothe our own sense of helplessness than to comfort the other, even if that wasn't our intention.

So what can we do? Psalm 46:10 comes to mind: "Be still, and know that I am God." The person who wrote that postcard appreciated the sympathy, but not the patronizing rationalizing of whatever they're going through. To simply be still with another person, to face the void of helplessness and to admit that nothing you can say or do will make it better--that may be one of the most difficult tasks there is, at least for me. Be still. Know that God is there, somewhere, somehow.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

A Rant

I'm going to stop arguing online about Islam and the proposed mosque in New York. I'm tired of and saddened by the fact that I feel like I'm on a completely different planet from people who disagree with me, especially brothers and sisters in Christ.

But first, I have to express my outrage at the fact that the site of the new Islamic center in Murfreesboro, TN has been torched.

[Just to warn you: this is going to be a rant. Don't bother picking apart my rhetoric. I'm angry.]

No. This is outrageous. Whether your argument against the building of mosques in this country stems from an "American" or a "Christian" argument, THIS IS WRONG. I know most people opposed to building the mosque in NY would never condone such action, but especially to folks who support stuff like burning the Quran--do you not see the slippery slope here?

This video is obviously a humor bit, but what I find terrifying is that people can hear what this woman (the leader of the anti-mosque movement in Murfreesboro) is saying and not realize that IT IS INSANE. I've been trying really hard to be gracious and to try to see things from the other side, and let me just say that I know that there are reasonable arguments against the mosque in NY, and I know there are concerns about violence in the Quran (to which I respond, ever read the story about Elisha having she-bears tear children apart for calling him "baldhead" or the psalm about dashing children's heads against the rocks?), but THIS IS RIDICULOUS.

Please. Please, set aside the numbers and statistics that come from God-knows-where. Go talk to a Muslim. When I took an Islamic civilization course in undergrad, my spiritual life was inspired to new life by hearing from several teachers of Sufism (Islamic mysticism). We have something to learn from Islam. And if we choose only to learn from jihadists, we are no better than they are.

I can't even laugh at this video right now.


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Thursday, August 26, 2010

Laundry for Jesus

Earlier this month, I was in the wedding of one of my dear friends from Duke. It was a beautiful ceremony, but the hours and minutes leading up to it were predictably hectic. The maid of honor was late because the getaway car, which she was to park in front of the venue, wouldn't start; we forgot about the boutineers until the moment we were lining up to process in; and the wedding bands were left at the hotel and had to be retrieved by the significant others of myself and another bridesmaid while we assured the bride we had them on location. At some point, one of the groomsmen commented to me that a wedding seems a whole lot less organized when you're a part of the behind-the-scenes action.

That's not just true for weddings--it's true for worship in general. This year, I'm working as an intern with the chaplain's office in the Divinity School, so I get to help plan and lead worship in Goodson Chapel. This week, I've been helping out with services that are being held as a part of new student orientation. Yesterday morning's opening worship was wonderful, and I enjoyed simply being there. We sang great hymns and the third year student nominated to preach did an incredible job.

Perhaps my favorite part came after the service. I had just been on hand to help with whatever came up, and afterward I went back to the sacristy to assist in the cleanup. When I asked what I could do to help, I was handed a wad of linens from communion and a Clorox bleach pen. My major contribution to worship yesterday was to rub bleach on the grape juice stains on the napkins, then toss them in the laundry bag hanging on the closet door.

This wasn't the first time laundry had come up as a part of my job. This past Monday, we had our first worship planning meeting, and one official point of business was to decide who had a washer and dryer and would be responsible for laundering the linens as needed. I ended up being assigned laundry duty.

I love the fact that things like laundry are a significant part of the behind-the-scenes stuff that goes into making worship happen. A wedding ceremony may look like a fairy tale to a guest and yet be fraught with all sorts of improvisation, mother-of-the-bride meltdowns and overlooked details; and worship may look glamorous and other-worldly to a congregation member, but it's really just a bunch of people doing what they can to honor the God to whom they owe their lives. Those people make typos in the bulletin or powerpoint, forget to take up the offering, and mispronounce Biblical names. We are children working together to produce a crayon drawing for our patient, loving father. And to him, that drawing is every inch a masterpiece of love.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

The Need for Nuance

Last fall semester, I had an irritating experience in a class discussion. Our preceptor had asked us a question pertaining to the day's readings, and she wanted a "yes" or a "no." As it turned out, the answer (per my view, confirmed by my dad and other smarter people) was "yes, but." I tried to argue my point against my preceptor's response of "no," but she wouldn't budge.

What annoyed me about that interaction is part of what troubles me about the state of opinion and politics in this country today: an utter lack of nuance. We want the answer to every question to be simple, direct and efficacious, which is a misguided expectation that alienates us from the reality that the world is complicated. We not only lack the ability to see in shades of grey, we don't even really think it matters to be able to do that. The thing is, being a Christian absolutely depends on paradox and nuance. I'll get to that point in a minute.

The result is that we as a people are quick to jump to conclusions, to extrapolate from delicate situations and statements, and to take things to extremes in discourse. In doing so, both sides lose sight of any common ground they might once have shared. Opponents' languages become completely estranged--once each side holes up in their extreme position, the original issue has been distorted and each side is talking about something totally different. No wonder we don't understand each other.

It's not our fault. I read somewhere that America as a nation has suffered something similar to post-traumatic stress disorder in the world after 9/11. This past March, my dad wrote an article for The Charlotte Observer entitled, "Has rancor become unbeatable foe?" In it, he noted this very phenomenon:

"After we endured the numbing body blow of 9-11, we then suffered the horrifying implosion of the economy: everybody's a little bit crazy. Everybody's scared. Nobody really knows which way to turn; we lunge, we shout, we grab onto the last vestige of what we used to cling to - so naturally we're difficult to be with, and so is the other guy."

We're all a little crazy, a little scared and a lot defensive. Most recently, I've been saddened by the "conversations" surrounding the proposed Islamic community center to be built right at two blocks from Ground Zero. I already posted a blog about this controversy, but there are two aspects of the issue that I think have to do with this need for nuance.

First, I'm troubled by the inability of many Americans to differentiate between the majority of the Muslim world and al-Qaeda. Part of the problem here is that there is a wealth of ignorance about the religion of Islam. Ron Ramsey likened it to a "cult," which is ridiculous seeing that 23% of the global population identifies as Muslim. Also, the Dove World Outreach Center's sponsorship of "International Burn a Koran Day" shows an appalling obliviousness to the contents of the Quran; I've commented that there are enough parallel passages between the Bible and the Quran to equate burning a Quran with burning parts of the Bible.

The fact that almost one in five Americans believe that President Obama is Muslim is also troubling, not only because it's wrong and implies racism but also because I'm sure that to those people, being Muslim is a bad thing. Obama is not Muslim, but so what if he were? Again, it's this inability (or unwillingness?) to distinguish between mainstream Islam and al-Qaeda. Just today, a black man in a skull cap (with, might I add, an easily visible Under Armor logo on the front) was accosted by protesters at Ground Zero, who assumed he was Muslim. See this video of the confrontation.

I'm also bothered by controversy that's been stirred up over the imam of the proposed mosque, Feisal Abdul Rauf. I heard a clip on NPR recently that related an outcry over comments he made shortly after 9/11. Rauf said, "I wouldn't say that the United States deserved what happened, but the United States policies were an accessory to the crime that happened." People are outraged at the implication that the blood of the 9/11 victims is not only on the hands of the terrorists but also to some extent on the hands of U.S. policy makers. Of course, the way people frame it is by saying that the imam believes we deserved the 9/11 attacks.

But I'm with Rauf on this one. Concerning opposition to U.S. policy in the Muslim world, Rauf said, "It is a reaction against the policies of the US government, politically, where we espouse principles of democracy and human rights and where we ally ourselves with oppressive regimes in many of these countries." We do that. Some of the decisions we make in international relations are wrong. Some of our foreign policy lacks necessary nuance, like our unquestioning support of Israel. Why are we so surprised when people hate us?

I hate the fact that songs like "America the Beautiful" are in the United Methodist Hymnal. (That's another discussion.) But there's a verse of that song that doesn't get sung--or listened to even if it is sung--often:

America! America!
God mend thine ev'ry flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law.

Why is it so impossible to think that we might be wrong? Why can't we look at the tragedy of 9/11 and say that although we didn't deserve it--no country or people deserves something like that--we have made decisions that contributed to the terrorists' motives? Why are we constantly running around trying to fix everyone else's problems but are unable or unwilling to admit to our own?

Let me pull this back around full circle. (Warning: my brain synthesizes information like crazy, so I may have connected some dots that don't align in everyone's mind, at least not right away. Bear with me.) We need to be able to understand and utilize nuance. We need to be able to acknowledge prophetic speech about shortcomings without perceiving it as an attack. We need to be willing to learn and to listen, not to lump people into a group because of their faith or race or country of origin. We need to be able to hold ideas in tension and not succumb to the temptation to cast everything in stark terms.

If we explore the Christian faith thoughtfully, we find that all of these things are demanded of us by the Bible and by church tradition. The prophets, God's messengers, rarely had complimentary things to say. Jesus is fully God and fully man. We must be in the world but not of the world. To believe and live out such things, we must be humble and discerning. We need to let go of our pride. We need to live in the unresolved tensions. We need nuance.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

David Wilcox and St. John of the Cross

If you've never heard of David Wilcox, remedy that immediately. The singer-songwriter is an incredible musician, artist and storyteller. His music is intelligent, clever and beautiful, and he is not afraid to tackle themes of politics, spirituality, addiction and more, all held together with songs about things like Waffle House.

He's released a number of wonderful records over the years, but the one I continually come back to is Live Songs & Stories. Wilcox is remarkable on stage. He talks while tuning his guitar, makes jokes and tells beautifully woven stories about his songs.

There are lots and lots of songs by Wilcox I could share, but I was just listening to his song "If it Wasn't for the Night" (not on the album I referred to, but still), and it struck me because it alludes to St. John of the Cross, specifically his famous poem "The Dark Night of the Soul." My roommate asked the other day if I had read that work--I had, in a religious poetry class in undergrad, and I really ought to go back to it.

Here are some of the lyrics of Wilcox's song:

If it wasn't for the night
So cold this time of year

The stars would never shine so bright

So beautiful and clear


Ah heck, just go listen, not only to that song but to just about everything Wilcox has put out. :)

Friday, August 20, 2010

Reaching Out (a quote from Henri Nouwen)

"Only when we have come in touch with our own life experiences and have learned to listen to our inner cravings for liberation and new life can we realize that Jesus did not just speak, but that he reached out to us in our most personal needs. The Gospel doesn't just contain ideas worth remembering. It is a message responding to our individual human condition. The Church is not an institution forcing us to follow its rules. It is a community of people inviting us to still our hunger and thirst at its tables. Doctrines are not alien formulations which we must adhere to but the documentation of the most profound human experiences which, transcending time and place, are handed over from generation to generation as a light in our darkness." -- Henri Nouwen, Reaching Out

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Cliques As Community?

On August 31, I'll attend my first American Christianity class to kick off my second year of seminary. I'm excited to go back to school. Last year was rough for me in a lot of ways, but my field ed experience this summer helped me to get reoriented and re-energized. I have a fresh sense of my vocation and how being at Duke Divinity School is an important part of realizing my calling.

There is one part of my life as a student these days that leaves me with a lingering sense of intimidation. My roommate and I commented the other day that neither of us put as much effort as maybe we should have into making new friends in the Div School. A lot of that was because, having been Duke undergrads, we had friends from college who remained a priority, many of them still in our geographic vicinity. Whatever the reason, both of us want to try harder to be a part of the social life at DDS this year.

The thing is, the Div School is incredibly clique-ish. Especially being someone who has always floated among various friend groups, at first glance, that reality is scary.

Of course, I know that the reason tight, easily identifiable friend groups develop at DDS is because almost everyone in the school is longing for, or has been indoctrinated with the idea of, genuine community. My dad's best friends to this day are men with whom he was in seminary. No one gets the struggles of a pastor more than another pastor. Whether we are pursuing ordained ministry, nonprofit work or a Ph.D., most of us are headed for a lifetime of work that will be fulfilling at times and difficult always. It is vital for each of us that we can begin to build lasting friendships and accountability/support groups now while we're in school, because the ministry can sometimes be an incredibly lonely, isolating vocation, ironically.

I'm not going to whine about cliques in the Div School. This isn't Mean Girls. I do think it's a pattern of which we as seminarians all need to be aware. Fortunately, I have already witnessed a broadness of care and concern within my own class that has manifested itself socially and academically. This past spring, a classmate of mine started a Google Group called DukeDivShare, where countless students uploaded exhaustive study guides, class notes, summaries of readings and more. There are tests I would have failed without the help of my generous classmates. I felt so lucky to be at DDS and not in law or medical school, having heard stories of students hiding or hoarding books to keep other students from affecting their grades. And when spring semester was rough for me, a surprising number of students I didn't know that well would check on me and encourage me.

So, yeah. Let's examine our friend groups. I know I've gravitated toward my friends from Duke undergrad for the most part. I want to branch out more this year. Let's be friends. :)

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

"There, where they burn books, they will in the end burn people."

When I returned to my house in Durham a few days ago, I found one minor but interesting change had been made to my room by our summer sub-letters. I have two small posters of Islamic calligraphy that I got when I took an Islamic Civilization class in undergrad. I had left them on the wall since they were attached with adhesive, and when I got back, they had been moved from the wall to the outside of the door to my room. I am in no way upset by this--I told the guys sub-letting to feel free to move things from the wall, I just left most of it up for simplicity's sake on my end. But since my large poster of Picasso's "The Old Guitarist," several framed photos from my travels, and a few other decorations stayed up, I know that the removal of the calligraphy was intentional and pointed.

Now that's fine. The funny thing is, neither of the texts represented in those calligraphy works is explicitly Muslim. They're in the Ottoman style (I believe at least one of them is in Turkish), and one translates, "O Lord, refine me!" while the other says simply, "Be!", a reference to God's act of speaking the world into being. No Shahada (which I think is depicted in this image, actually) or anything like that.

Already musing over that event, I came across this article in the News & Observer, written by Richard Hays, my adviser and the new dean of the Divinity School. The title is "WWJD? Not burn the Quran," and it is an editorial in response to the planned Quran burning sponsored by Dove World Outreach Center (a, um, "New Testament church" in Gainesville, Florida). You can learn more on their Facebook page, entitled "International Burn a Koran Day."

I posted the link on Facebook and watched in amusement as myself and my friends spawned a 44-comment (at last count) debate of sorts over Quran burning, the Islamic cultural center being built near Ground Zero, Islamic law, etc. The thing is, I could tell that people were just talking on different planes. People opposed to the building of the mosque (and even one or two who support burning Qurans) simply weren't talking about the same things as people on the other side.

The funny thing is, I'm not sure the people opposed to the building of the mosque even read Hays' article. He talks about a Holocaust memorial in Germany with a plaque that reads, "There, where they burn books, they will in the end burn people." Even if a person isn't directly supportive of International Burn a Koran Day, the ignorance and malice that is a part of that whole attitude is extremely dangerous.

And that's the thing--most non-Muslims don't know a thing about Islam. I only have what little I gleaned from an admittedly easy Islamic Civ class, but the way people talk about the Quran and Sharia law makes it clear they have no idea what they're talking about. The Quran and the Bible have a number of parallel passages (though I suppose the Dove World Outreach Center wouldn't care, since those are mainly from the Old Testament) and Sharia law breeds extremism only in the same way reading the Bible results in intolerant fundamentalism.

Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote a book I really love called The Dignity of Difference. [Sidebar: Chief Rabbi = Archbishop of Canterbury for Jews. And, um, Archbishop of Canterbury = Pope for Anglicans. Roughly.] In it he says, "Covenant tells me that my faith is a form of relationship with God--and that one relationship does not exclude others." He cites Isaiah 19: "The Egyptians and Assyrians will worship together. In that day Israel will be third, along with Egypt and Assyria, a blessing on earth. The Lord Almighty will bless them, saying, 'Blessed be Egypt my people, Assyria my handiwork, and Israel my inheritance.'" Those words are shocking even if they don't translate directly to modern sensibilities.

Now, I'm not saying that all paths lead to God. Although, to quote the popular Christian novel The Shack: (Jesus responding to the question of whether all roads lead to him) "Not at all...most roads don't lead anywhere. What it does mean is that I will travel any road to find you." Faith is not about claiming to have a corner on truth over against everyone else. It is a gift to be shared, not a possession to be defended. Our witness should be a loving overflow of the joy we find in our faith, not an attack using it as a weapon.

I could say more about that and probably will later, but for now, I'm gonna say (to my readers and to myself): examine yourselves for bigotry, which isn't just about race, it's about a stubborn adherence to your own views and intolerance of all others (see Wikipedia). Now, being open to other views and beliefs does not mean accepting them in lieu of your own, so I'm not telling you to believe in Allah. But especially among the Abrahamic faiths, there is so much we can learn from each other that we just lose when we equate Muslims with terrorists and live in a self-imposed culture of fear and suspicion.

And now, I end this post with some humor. Here's a segment from The Daily Show on the mosque controversy.


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Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Audrey Assad // The House You're Building


My roommate recently got me into a Christian musician named Audrey Assad. She's got a powerful sound, and her lyrics echo people like St. Augustine ("Restless"). She reminds me somewhat of Brooke Fraser, whom I adore. Check it out.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

"Faithful" Brooke Fraser

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

I Like the Way It Hurts

Eminem is a figure that has always interested me. He is phenomenally talented, but his life is so broken and full of anger that a lot of the work he does just turns my stomach. My boyfriend has speculated that if Eminem were to use his talents for the good of others, he could do some incredible things--the whole "From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required" (Luke 12:48) thing--but he is bound by the world and his rage.

So the first time I heard his new song "Love the Way You Lie," featuring R&B singer Rihanna, I listened with cautious interest. I love that song. Rihanna's hook is catchy (I've started covering it myself as part of an acoustic mash-up with another chart-topping rap song lately), the beat is solid, and the chord progression, simple as it is, adds an element of longing and regret to the sound.

Of course, some of the song's lyrics make me uncomfortable. "Next time I'm just gonna aim my fist at the drywall." "If she ever tries to ----ing leave again, I'm a tie her to the bed and set this house on fire." Yikes. Save for that last part (the parting line in Eminem's rap before Rihanna closes the song out with the hook again), I even like the words of the song, because it seems to be a raw exposure of the cycle of domestic violence. Rihanna herself was a victim of highly publicized violence from her then-boyfriend Chris Brown and has since become an advocate for women in abusive relationships.

But is the song glorifying domestic violence? This article from the Associated Press thoughtfully treats the question. The song's video debut recently added to the controversy, for in it actors Megan Fox and Dominic Monaghan portray a couple locked in a passionate but violent relationship. (I'm embedding the video at the end of this post--I think it's well done, so check it out.)

The question is, how do young people, especially young women, interpret this song and the accompanying video? Artists and entertainers these days tend to just throw things out there and leave their audience to draw their own conclusions, which may or may not be a good thing. Artists like Lady Gaga and Ke$ha (though Gaga is slowly redeeming herself in my eyes to some extent) drive me crazy because they put out all this music glorifying rampant partying, and although friends have argued with me that they're not taking themselves seriously, the average 15-year-old girl isn't necessarily going to catch onto that even if it is the case.

One thing that AP article pointed out is that a song like "Love the Way You Lie" can do something positive, and that is to encourage young people to talk about the issues it brings up. Perhaps the song is intentionally ambiguous in its message, and if young women have someone they can talk to about such things, the questions the lyrics and imagery bring up can be important starters to conversations about relationships, self-worth and more.

The key is that something like this song must be coupled with discussion and education. Not everyone is going to assume that the relationship depicted is a negative example. This makes me think back to my Old Testament class last year, where we took a hard look at some of the war and violence in the Hebrew Bible and talked through the possibility that some of these images are meant as warnings, not as permission to ride to war in the name of God. But without thoughtful, well-informed conversation on the subject, it would be easy to conclude that the Old Testament essentially condones the use of overwhelming military force to the benefit of God's people.

My plea to parents and other adults who are connected to young people is this: don't dismiss or forbid popular music like this. Kids are going to be listening to and talking about Eminem and Rihanna whether you approve or not. Talk to them about the lyrics and the images. Make them think about what they're saying when they sing along to the radio. Without that corrective thought process, kids are ingraining far more into themselves than they or we realize. We can allow songs like "Love the Way You Lie" to glorify domestic violence or to expose it. We have that power.


Sunday, August 1, 2010

How Christians Make God Look Like a Jerk


This is from this week's collection of postcards from the online community PostSecret. [Check out this post from the Duke Divinity blog Confessio on PostSecret coming to campus.] The moment I saw it, I knew I was going to blog about it.

Unfortunately, I have seen and heard about many instances of people, especially Christians, saying incredibly insensitive things out of good intentions in tragic circumstances. Cliches like "it was her time," "he's in a better place," "it was God's will" and more can be heard at just about any funeral. And although the gesture may be appreciated, it is often drowned in the patronizing character of such sayings, unintended though it may be. Sure, maybe he is in a better place; but his wife, his children, his friends--they want him here.

To say something like "it was God's will" really comforting, or is it a feeble attempt at explaining the unexplainable? We are constantly looking for a "reason" for events big and small in our lives and in the world. But sometimes the reason is something simple and obvious, not metaphysical at all, and sometimes the reality of cancer, an accident or other sudden death is too hard to bear, and so we pan it off on God.

I've been thinking a lot about Molly McKay lately. We're just a few weeks shy of marking 10 years to the day that she's been dead. Molly was a UNC student who spent her last summer among us volunteering with the youth group at Davidson United Methodist Church, where I was in the middle school group at the time. I remember being in the carpool line to school when my dad got the call that she had been killed in a head-on collision with a car that had crossed the median on the highway. Molly was on her way back to school and had just stopped by his office to tell him goodbye.

Not long after Molly's death, I remember my mom asking me if I thought God had taken Molly away. I pondered the question for a moment, then responded, "No. I don't think he took her. But I believe he welcomed her." I know what "took" Molly--a terrible accident that could not have been foreseen and from which her family will never fully recover. The God in whom I believe does not snatch beautiful, intelligent, selfless young women away at random simply because his will so dictates.

Of course, God being God, Molly's life has left an indelible mark on the lives of many and continues to do so even for young people who never knew her. The Molly McKay Youth House at Davidson UMC is tangible proof of that, as is a scholarship at UNC established in her memory. God's redemptive power runs strong and deep, but the fact that good came out of Molly's death does not in any way diminish its tragedy. If anyone dared then or dares now to tell the McKays that her death was God's will, I don't want to know about it.

In the face of tragedy, no one knows what to say. There are no magical words to make things better, and oftentimes if we feel ourselves saying something, we realize it's more intended to soothe our own sense of helplessness than to comfort the other, even if that wasn't our intention.

So what can we do? Psalm 46:10 comes to mind: "Be still, and know that I am God." The person who wrote that postcard appreciated the sympathy, but not the patronizing rationalizing of whatever they're going through. To simply be still with another person, to face the void of helplessness and to admit that nothing you can say or do will make it better--that may be one of the most difficult tasks there is, at least for me. Be still. Know that God is there, somewhere, somehow.

 

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