Words you might want to think about before you say them

I have a friend who is an all round good man.  He's intelligent, a great family guy, funny, and really good at what he does.

But he's got a habit that drives me crazy.  When I ask him how thing are going are home, he'll tell me: "We've really been blessed."

At that point, I have to do some quick mental gymnastics --  after all, that's a term of common use among Christians, particularly evangelical Christians.

Perhaps you also are "blessed."  You have elderly parents in good health.  Or your kids are all doing well in school.  You have babies on your schedule, not on someone else's. You met the love of your life in college, and things have been going just great ever since.

Of course, if you are a person of faith, you would ascribe this to God's good favor working in your family, your business, your love life, and even your, forgive me fertility cycle.

The only problem with this term?

The man next to you in church might be watching his sixty something mom die painfully of cancer.  The person three pews down could have a teenage boy who is hostile, distant and down most of the time -- every night she goes home from work afraid of what she's going to find.

The pastor preaching that upbeat sermon might be struggling with an alcohol addiction that threatens to take over his life -- it's a genetic thing in his family.

Wait... you mean that they aren't blessed? Well, what are they then? Cursed?

This isn't easy stuff.  At various times in my life, which has had some struggles and some frank tragedy, I have wondered why some people's lives seem to go without incident, and others are laced with horror.

People in Colorado: blessed or cursed?

People in Syria?

 Lottery-winners?

Bestselling authors? Brilliant writers whose manuscripts never get published?

I do believe that God works in this world.  But I admit that I'm not sure how, though I have experienced times of  feeling blessed in so many ways.

 I don't believe that God picks and chooses who will be given "normal" lives, and who will have to wrest meaning from them with tears and sadness and doubt.

Many of us have times of  normalcy, happiness and grief.

I have heard people who are terribly ill, or those who have lost someone they love say those words -- and been thankful that they can find grace and character and beauty in the twilight.

So I don't honestly have a theologically correct, nicely packaged answer to this dilemma.  My concern is mostly pastoral.

The next time you are exuberant, and those words are about to flow from your lips, please think at least once. Take a look at the person or people who will hear or read them.

And take care, my brothers and sisters, that your "blessing"  cannot be heard as their condemnation.

Faith Fridays: "The Happy Atheist" A Review

There's a certain piquant, perhaps even slightly lurid quality about a woman of the cloth reviewing a tome by an atheist professor of biology (with a prize-winning science blog, yet!) 

In the old days, perhaps one might have even packed this reflection between brown-paper and sold it under cover of night at your local newsstand.  After all, weren't women clergy an impossibility?

But in an age in which aspiring politicians sext young women on Twitter and butlers steal documents from the Vatican bedchambers, alas, nothing seems astonishing. 

As long as there have been theists (going back at least as far as the epics of the ancient world), there have been atheists. History is threaded with the writings and lives of famous non-believers. 

But the explosion of electronic communication, the secularization of Western Europe, and the surging number of Americans who don't identify with an institutional religious practice has amplified the voice and perhaps the influence of the no-God party. 

Atheism (as much as a non-believer with a polemical edge like Sam Harris or Richard Dawkins would dislike this way of putting it) part of the dialogue about faith in the public square.

And if P Z Myers had his druthers, human beings would root out past errors, and give God, described as a "useless old fart"  and a "cranky old geezer" (metaphorically, of course, for God doesn't exist in Myersworld), his "pink slip."

In this series of sketches on such topics as "The Top Ten Reasons Religion Is Like Pornography"  Myers sets out to mock, rend, and generally deride the beliefs of any and every person of faith (except, of course, for those who have faith in science).

"Science and religion," he writes, "are two different ways of looking at the universe, and changing the world, and I believe that you must set one aside to follow the other. One works; the other doesn't."

Sometimes, however, Myers has sympathy for believers -- believers like Florida pastor (unlikely to be considered more than a huge nuisance, embarrassment or fraud by many Christians) Terry Jones, who has several times attempted to burn copies of the Koran.  After all, to Myers, the Koran and the Bible are only  books of superstitions and those who believe they are sacred texts ignorant dupes.

Myers writes scathingly of the misogynistic and patriarchal qualities of a faith born amidst ancient sheepherders and a God who is leader, master, commander.

In decimating this unreal, metaphorical God, those with no faith will realize that while they are alone in the universe, "we're all alone together."  That realization, and acceptance of the basics of evolution, will allow humans to be able to become free actors, able to choose to collaborate, and shoulder responsibilities far more weighty than that of fealty to a "trail boss."

There is much in this book that will outrage, and infuriate, many people of faith.  That's not a good reason to stay away from it, however.  If your beliefs cannot contend in the marketplace of ideas, are they really yours?

But it's hard to believe that this volume reveals Myers at his most convincing (here he sings to the choir).  Instead of "The Happy Atheist," this volume might more appropriately be called "The Snarky Atheist."

A bigger issue? We live in an age in which many have unlimited faith in both science and reason -- two disciplines that have let us down again and again. 

There are, as well, many scientists who see no contradiction between faith and science (it is difficult to think, for example,  of Dr. Francis Collins as a dupe or an idiot).

Far safe for Myers to dwell in the realm of parody than engage the messy realities that lie behind the puppet show he has set up.

For real exposure to a rigorous and nuanced atheism, turn to neuroscientist Sam Harris, or the late Christopher Hitchens. Hell, turn to Myers himself -- his blog, which explores all manner of topics scientific and (anti) religious, fascinates.

But unless you can take being annoyed, and only sporadically  enlightened, don't turn to him here. 

Peace: it's not a fashion statement

Today Twitter and Facebook feeds filled up with statements about peace, and peacemaking, prayers for peace, statements from religions figures about peace, and general nods of approval.

Peace: it's a great idea.

"Peacemaking: even a better idea"!

I began to get grumpier and grumpier, until I felt like the Grinch sneaking around in Cindy Lou Who's house, destroying her Christmas tree.

I mean, isn't everybody having a great old time agreeing with each other?

Perhaps it's because mind meld on ANYTHING makes me so annoyed that it must be unhealthy.

Perhaps it's because I wrote a column on Syria, and pretty much every religious figure was saying the same thing: we probably shouldn't go in.

Let me be clear about what I'm not saying.

This isn't about whether we intervene militarily or don't go in.  I can understand and respect the arguments on both sides.

I'm very cool with Pope Francis calling for prayer and fasting -- heck, he wasn't even the Pope when Assad began his reign of terror. And a day of prayer and fasting can never hurt.

I have the most profound respect for people who have been activists for peaceful solutions to conflicts. I do believe that it's where Jesus wants us to begin -- he's pretty clear about this, is he not?

But why now? Why, all of a sudden, are we talking about peaceful solutions?

Isn't it a bit late to talk about that, when Syria is falling apart?

I'm not a pacifist. It's tough to be one when some of your own relatives (though not close ones) were gassed by Hitler or murdered in pogroms.

And because I'm not, I've been stewing about what our government could do in Syria for a few years to halt the genocide. The reading I've done and the people I've heard on NPR have confused me more, and made me more angry and distraught.

Now, I fear, it may be too late to do anything but harm.

Perhaps the best we can do is swop prayers on Facebook.  Perhaps it's a form of water-cooler reassurance.

But I  believe still peace is about action, not words.

It's damned hard to be a peacemaker. Look at Martin Luther King, or the young people who crept into Iraq before the war. Peacemaking, by definition brings you face to face with the enemy, doesn't it?

 It's much easier to talk about it than to do anything.

That, of course, is human nature.  We are a communal people.

Jesus got that -- his death was the ultimate act of peace with us and with God.

The Gospel is more demanding than we dare dream, most nights.  Changing our behavior and our hearts is a lifelong process.

And so I pray that God will have mercy on those of us, including me, who haven't always been peacemakers when it's so clear that this is what He calls us to do.

Blessed are those who hear -- and act.

On Syria, the church speaks with (almost) one voice

Kudos to my editor for allowing me  40 column inches -- and I still feel like I couldn't give "just war" theory an adequate analysis.

The interviews were predictably calm and scholarly until I reached the last interview of that day, one with the Rev. Allan Wolfe in Lancaster. Delightfully outspoken, he was un-hesitant to criticize the President for "an inadequate foreign policy" and general disdain for church pronouncements on religious issues.

The Catholic Church in the U.S. has a history of tangling with our current President on issues of religious freedom. But here, they make common cause with Protestant progressives and libertarians, including secular libertarians.

Fr. Wolfe doesn't think the President, or even many Catholic politicians, are listening to the voice of the Church. He might be correct. 

But I think that, if Obama's initiative goes down to defeat (fueled in part by payback time mentality in some conservative political quarters, most likely), some will, at least, use their denomination's stance for cover.

http://lancasteronline.com/article/local/891715_Column--Where-do-the-faithful-stand-on-Syria-.html

Late summer daze

To say that this has been a tough afternoon would be an understatement.

It actually started last night.  We all went out to dinner as a family -- the four of us, the ex, me, and the kids. We do that on special occasions. This was a delayed birthday party for Mr. C., and he chose a nice French restaurant.

The two children were doing well - competing with each other, talking a mile a minute, ordering expensive desserts.

But it became very clear to me, has been becoming clearer, that when it comes to her life, I'm on the outside looking in. Most of the decisions are made by her and her dad, and sometimes I'm invited in - not to the choice, but to the bread and circus around it. .

I'm not going to pass blame. Blame is such a loser's game, because, ultimately, we all share part of it. Actually, it's one of those things that are better shared, because then the solution can be a collaboration, too.

Reflecting on how distant she and I have become over the years made for a difficult morning.  This problem is so obdurate, and has so many layers, that sometimes it feels like I am imprisoned by one of those horror movie trees, come to life in a torrential downpour. I push, and push, and can't escape the tendrils of the past.

But I wasn't done with gloomy reflection.  The afternoon featured an email, in response to an inquiring one from me, from a gentlemen who cast me as a monster mom, vengeful and self-righteous.

I was stunned  by his anger -- directed at someone who was a relative stranger. Oh, he was very sure he knew me - and that I was dangerous.

I wonder if my friends, coworkers and even acquaintances would recognize the caricature he drew.

In what turned out to be an unwise bout of confession, I had mentioned some of the measures I'd taken when my daughter was in high school  and as she moved on to college (she had already been, let's say, flirting with danger).  On those he judged me, found me wanting, put me in the dock, and sentenced me.

He didn't know the context. He wasn't informed about the years of effort, strategy, support and encouragement.  I should not have shared so much without more of  a friendship -- my bad.

Online dialogue encourages a level of disclosure that not only encourages people to take liberties, but to assume that they know someone after a few discussions. And I'm sure that some of what I shared seemed totally outrageous to him.

Thankfully, I had just wrapped up a talk with a former professor who told me that, in my daughter's case, the actions I took might have saved her from much worse later on.  Thankfully also, I'm done with my email friend -- we're both better for it.

I can't deny his cutting, derogatory comments hurt.  They hurt badly. But think how much worse they would have been if we were in a relationship?  We were both spared.

But the afternoon wasn't over, yet.  Next came an angry, accusatory email from my daughter, telling me I'd spoiled her vacation plans with her boyfriend. The only problem? I hadn't had anything to do with her plans.

We figured it out -- it was her brother who was the villain, not her mom. Not this time. Apologies all around from West Chester.

It was one very tough day. In its undertow, I'm exhausted, discouraged and sad.

But hopefully, tomorrow will be a time of refreshment, enabling me to remember all of the blessings in my life -- and find a thicker skin to ward off that which isn't a blessing.

A little each day

"We don't crack up and fall apart.  Instead, our hearts break a little bit each day."

I can't recall if my mom or my dad used to say this.

Each of them would have had their own particular reasons.

I know what they meant, however.

I don't rage.  I don't throw things.  I've never been addicted to drugs, or alcohol, or even men who were bad for me.

Yet there are painful and important moments.

This has been a week of small heartbreaks.

A friend's careless and clear indifference as he takes off like a racehorse in pursuit of a new love.

Threads dropped without explanation as another pursues career dreams.

And other nascent seedlings, ripped up and cast aside.

I'm not an easy person to get to know, or to abide with.  In myself I harbor many contradictions -- a rigorous if random mind and a profound emotional sensitivity, passion for world affairs and deep introversion, faith and curiosity, doubt and its polar opposite.

Mostly, I require of my friends an honesty and straightforwardness that challenges all conventional norms.  Many (and I don't blame the many) can't abide that kind of deep sea diving in quest of insight.

Truth is, the murk at the bottom of our mind is as rife, if not more so, than the treasure.

In a few days, perhaps I will have forgotten the sundered relationships that impel me to grief.

They will be little more than pinpricks, reminders, cautions.

If I have learned anything, it is not to hold on too tight when someone else has let go.

But today, today is for mourning.

Nicely. Done.

I am, I recognize wryly, your archetypal  "nice" woman (except when the occasional impulsively blurted comment slips out).  Mostly, I am told, I sound like I think through everything before I say it.

Goodness, I wouldn't want to offend anyone by saying something that might hurt their feelings. And when and if I do,  I query my conscience a hundred times (well, maybe ten, but still, that's space that could be taken up by something more interesting).

I worry about that line where "nice" may veer to close to "doormat."

So I'm trying to take a few steps back. Nice alone won't cut it. Nice but firm? O.K.  Nice and differentiated? Sure.

 Nice and hot (hey, sign me up!).

But nice alone -- it's a recipe for problems.

Like with friends who take you for granted when it comes to making or breaking dates, because it's more convenient for them, or they merely got distracted. That's SO high school.

Last night a married guy contacted me.

On dating sites that allow for them, they often call themselves "available."

To my mind, that equates with "available" for furtive embraces, seeing you at inconvenient times, and a dash of lying and cheating on the side.  Just enough availability to make you feel sleazy and cheap.

He found me, and my way with words "enticing", he said in an email message.

While not judging his situation, I wrote back, I can't imagine causing that kind of pain in another woman's life. No dice, bud.

Why on earth, I wonder, would someone buy these pitches if they have an ounce of self-esteem? Are there women who really fall for these dudes (hit me up, baby, I just need a little company)?

Truth be told, there was a time in my life, when, as my marriage thudded to a close,  I ran into someone I liked "more than as a friend."  Fortunately, it never went anywhere -- and even more fortunately, for my own sense of integrity, I said something to my husband.

Affairs never solve the issue they are meant to solve.

Instead, they show up as a signal of an inability to communicate effectively. The fantasy that you can work out with someone else without doing a bit of work to make it happen or figure out how you screwed up (sorry) is a potent one.

I told this guy that I wished him and his spouse the best of luck.

The elderly gentleman who contacted me today wasn't happy that I politely told him that I didn't think we had many common interests, and that I wasn't a smoker.  In fact, he called me stupid.

Block.

Delete.

There was a time when I would have taken this rant personally. Now I move on.

It's all static. Life is way too short to stew over a stranger's rant.

Life is too short to reach out to friends who are careless with your feelings (more than normally careless. It doesn't pay to be TOO sensitive).

I'm trying on "nice and tough" on for size today.

Wanna bet how long I can keep this up?

If you give me credit for baby steps, I am really, truly, doing nicely.

More than nicely.

Right now it feels as if I'm putting on a Halloween mask to scare children.

But give me time, my pretties. Just give me some time.