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Showing posts with label politico. Show all posts
Showing posts with label politico. Show all posts
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Regarding London
Regarding London:
There is so much hopping around in my brain right now that blogging seems ridiculous. But then maybe that's the point - the idea that I can be relatable, appreciated, and, I admit, loved in a virtual world. Not that I'm not sincere - most of the time - but that the chaos of life (who I am in this life) can be ordered somehow in an 8x4 computer window is outright silly.
And now for the old college try... whatever that means:
1. Shaun of the Dead is real.
Rich and I were in London during several work days, and it looked just exactly like the movie when people were commuting to work in the morning - zombies and regular folk alike - and one would be hard pressed to tell the difference between the dead tired and the truly dead. The tube was full of silent carriages, the only movement an occasional yawn, and even that kept to a minimum because a yawn would be proof of a living being. I tried not to look around ( a dead giveaway that I was a tourist), but I couldn't help but laugh.. thankfully, silently, when I then remembered the slipping on the brains part of the film. To make matters worse, this advert decorated nearly every tube station:
There is so much hopping around in my brain right now that blogging seems ridiculous. But then maybe that's the point - the idea that I can be relatable, appreciated, and, I admit, loved in a virtual world. Not that I'm not sincere - most of the time - but that the chaos of life (who I am in this life) can be ordered somehow in an 8x4 computer window is outright silly.
And now for the old college try... whatever that means:
1. Shaun of the Dead is real.
Rich and I were in London during several work days, and it looked just exactly like the movie when people were commuting to work in the morning - zombies and regular folk alike - and one would be hard pressed to tell the difference between the dead tired and the truly dead. The tube was full of silent carriages, the only movement an occasional yawn, and even that kept to a minimum because a yawn would be proof of a living being. I tried not to look around ( a dead giveaway that I was a tourist), but I couldn't help but laugh.. thankfully, silently, when I then remembered the slipping on the brains part of the film. To make matters worse, this advert decorated nearly every tube station:
For the record, the zombies in the picture are WAY more enthusiastic than the ones commuting to work. These must be the after 10 zombies.
2. My mother was right.
Cars are weapons and we only get one chance. That was the line she fed me when I was a teenager. At the time, I knew that probably she was right, that I didn't really want to find out, and that hopefully God was on my side, especially since I had gone on practically every youth group mission offered. It turns out, that all she had to do to teach me the validity of this lesson was put me in a car in England with my husband. (sigh)
I'm not saying (ahem) that Rich is a bad driver.. He's just a bad driver in England. In his defense, I practically badgered him into it, reminding him that it was my birthday and that it could be romantic to visit the countryside and picnic near the sheep. It might even be fun, I intimated, to get stung by the nettles and have to look for the leafy cure which, as we all learned years ago in England when I got stung on my backside during an ill-timed bathroom emergency at Hadrian's Wall, is always nearby. We compromised. We took a train out of London and into Oxford where we rented a car and drove through the Cotswolds. 
It was a gorgeous drive, minus the honking and the curb brushing, and we learned how to utilize round-abouts (kind of), we learned about how to fill a tank with gas (not so different), and we also learned that driving in England is a stress to our marriage and that probably we should stick to train riding. The kind folks in Stow-on-the Wold would agree.
3. I am possibly the most lazy blogger in the world.
Actually, the photo pasting is kind of a nightmare here and my patience is waning. So here's what I'll do: Speed blogging followed by a photo montage, hopefully in slide show format:
* We saw some excellent political/modern art at two fantastic galleries - The Saatchi Gallery in a posh part of London and at the ICA where we viewed a political Russian opera film called Dissent while reclining in beds.
*We took a day trip to Canterbury - made the Pilgrimage, Chaucer style, yo! (minus the donkey/horse riding, the lack of bathing, and the story-telling)- and had a moment of silence for Thomas Becket on the alter where he was murdered. We also witnessed a bell ceremony there in remembrance of all soldiers. I couldn't help but marvel at how American it seemed.. or possibly how British we still are.
* My friends, Mark and Ilham, took me out to lunch at a fantastic open-aired cafe for my birthday and then the next evening took me, a Texan, to a Mexican restaurant called La Mexicana, co-owned by a native Mexican and a Turk, who employed a blond haired, fantastically sarcastic Canadian. All three - the Turk, the Mexican, and the Canadian - wore sombreros and sang Happy Birthday to me in front of a mural depicting a cowboy screaming "Yee Ow!" See, this is why I love Mark and Ilham. They thought to take me to that awesomely surreal place, and it wasn't that weird to them.
*We watched ping pong matches in St. James Park. Had I known ping pong was a free-for-all sport there, I totally would've played. Next time..
* We visited various pubs, including the good-ole standby - the Black Friar- and ate all kinds of horrifically bad for you pub foods, including fried fish sandwiches and a plowman's lunch. Of course there was shepherd's pie (duh), but sadly no bangers and mash.We declined the invitation to "go out back" to the bar-be-cue at the local pub near our hotel where it was perfectly acceptable behavior to roll around in the floor with puppies. I can't begin to explain that - the puppy part - except to say that it happened, and we tried not to stare at the coin slots. Seriously. At the time I was worried about looking all touristy.. but in retrospect, it just grossed me out.
And now for the montage:
4. London is my favorite place on the planet.
We spent a huge amount of time walking around the city and then taking the tube back to our hotel. We ran across several fantastic sites, including the Victoria Rail Station and a car boot sale (where I bought a purse). Mark even took me on a tour of his school - yet another reminder of how same we all are.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Larry Allums: America the bold but not so beautiful | News for Dallas, Texas | Dallas Morning News | Opinion: Points
My friend and mentor, Dr. Larry Allums, published an op ed in today's paper. Please enjoy:
Larry Allums: America the bold but not so beautiful News for Dallas, Texas Dallas Morning News Opinion: Points
For those who, like me, are pro-American and looking for insights into an uncertain future, Joel Kotkin's optimism in The Next Hundred Million: America in 2050 is close to infectious. Amid pronouncements of America's decline or prophecies of its imminent doom, his forecast of our continuing vitality is a welcome respite.
Perhaps the most convincing aspect of Kotkin's claim for our success in the 21st century is that he avoids the sort of triumphalism that has the sound of excess – the hollow vanity Aristotle lists as one of the extremes either side of the golden mean of "greatness of soul." Nor does Kotkin go to the opposite extreme and suggest that America must now discover humility and share its past greatness with other nations. Rather, he really does claim not only a material greatness but a kind of greatness of soul for America, by which he seems to mean a quality not measurable as much by the data he uses so expertly as by a kind of interior, collective character sown into the soil of our founding that continues to nourish new growth, regardless of the massive change our democracy habitually thrives upon.
Describing America's "fundamental strengths," Kotkin ironically but perhaps appropriately employs a non-Anglo word: "These traits provide the United States with what Japanese scholar Fuji Kamiya has described as sokojikara: a reserve power that allows it to overcome both the inadequacies of its leaders and the foibles of its citizens."
This rather mythic designation – mythic in the sense that it attempts to get at the essential character of a people – carries strong overtones of an American destiny, but clearly post-colonial and post-imperial. Kotkin believes that simply in following our internal compass and allowing our character to guide crucial choices, our ascendancy during this century will be, if not assured, certainly much more likely and, if we work at it, virtually guaranteed.
Working at it means striking a balance, Kotkin says, between piety toward our "ancient ideals" and openness to future change –in which case "the United States can emerge as a land of unprecedented opportunity: a youthful, evolving nation amid an advanced industrial world beset by old age, bitter ethnic conflicts and erratically functioning economic institutions."
This hopeful prospect hinges upon a momentous "if," because the two factors needing to be balanced are by nature in tension, if not opposition. Having in a sense begun in impiety – revolt against Mother Country – Americans are habitually ready to embrace change at piety's expense.
Notoriously, we find it easy to turn on a dime away from our past, perhaps because it almost never carries immediate consequences. Whether we can achieve the balance Kotkin so easily calls for will depend on our ability to manage another balancing act: between measurable and non-measurable dimensions of education, or between things that matter in terms of material worth and those that matter in terms of moral and spiritual value.
Our natural openness to change is, according to Kotkin, a primary nutrient in the soil of the American character, and for him being open includes embracing not just new technology but the kind of change we are currently experiencing as social and political crisis: what immigrants bring to the full flowering of the American Dream. Kotkin's assertions are, after all, grounded in a demographic forecast, that our population will grow by 100 million during the first half of the century – "demographics as destiny," as he dramatically puts it. Of Scotch-Irish descent and therefore part of a diminishing subset of Americans, I nevertheless found myself easily agreeing with most every point of his pro-immigrant stance.
Whereas "anti-natalists," slow-growth advocates and racial purists would regard continuing immigration as disastrous, Kotkin sees it as our source of ascendancy over the countries most often cited as our potential vanquishers – mainly India, China and the European Union: "Only successful immigration can provide the markets, the manpower and, perhaps most important, the youthful energy to keep western societies vital and growing," he writes. For me this sorts well, if not eloquently, with the Rev. Martin Luther King's image in his "I Have a Dream" speech of the Founders' "promissory note" to which "every
American was to fall heir."
The questions are, where will the next 100 million Americans live, and what will they do in this future epoch that will at once be an extension of the old and an emergence of the new?
Kotkin's answers are consistently provocative and sometimes troubling – especially to those who envision a future of urban renewal and a commensurate shrinking of America's dogged preference since World War II for suburban life. Not so, says Kotkin: "Rather than be forced to cluster in cities, Americans are likely to increasingly opt for communities that blend the single-family housing patterns of suburbia with basic urban amenities."
As a transplanted city dweller from the Deep South, I devoutly prefer urban life and believe in the city-center concept, but Kotkin's scenario doesn't put me off, because it avoids an either-or conclusion. The next 100 million, he says, will be enough for the vitality of both city and suburb. If he's right, and it appears he is, that "we're moving beyond the industrial model, with economic activity diffusing from great population centers," then perhaps we're entering a period when people of varying circumstances can choose not to live in urban areas and still aspire upward as Americans always have.
Until recently, civilizational advances have typically resulted in forced movements toward urban cores. We seem now to have reached a true turning point – when the movement will go back the other way, to the suburbs and beyond, even to the great American Heartland for which Kotkin foresees a dramatic resurgence.
Kotkin's bright estimate of America's potential has great appeal, but there's something beguiling, almost Pied-Piper like, about the neutrality of his predictions. It seems to me traceable to his use of the word sokojikara to define that deeply imbedded, almost mythic quality of the American character. My reservations have to do with two issues he minimizes or leaves out of his equation: education and beauty.
The first, education, is prominent among our national concerns, yet it is almost always discussed or debated only in terms of work-force skills and measurable knowledge. True, these are vitally connected to our national destiny on a material level. But tunnel-visioned as we are with high-stakes testing, we rarely contemplate the importance of a whole curriculum in ensuring our vital future in a changing, threatening world.
Like Kotkin, we seem to assume that matters of character and ideals – the very things that define sokojikara – will take care of themselves, that they are self-renewing and that as long as we remain politically correct, both our native-born and immigrant youth will somehow acquire the values, the moral habituation, that will keep us strong in heart and soul. At best, this is placing a lot of faith in the permanence of American Identity; at worst, it is risking the continued existence of America itself.
The other issue conspicuous by its absence from Kotkin's account is beauty, which has everything to do with education. Beauty is a forbidden subject today, especially in academe, yet the core of our education ought to focus precisely on beautiful things, which certainly include cities and suburbs.
Beauty matters in innumerable and often unmeasurable ways. According to the ancient Greeks, true education involves learning about what is good – the good thought, the good judgment, the good action – and what is good is necessarily beautiful. The Greeks in fact had one word – kaloskagathos – that coalesced the two into an inseparable meaning. Kotkin implies that there are no real distinctions to be made in terms of beauty – no beautiful cities or suburbs; only those that succeed, that is, those we prefer.
Kotkin's omissions don't invalidate his vision of America in 2050. In fact, there is room in his copious forecast for educating future Americans in what is both good and beautiful. Moreover, I would say that such an education is necessary if we are to be, as he predicts, "a beacon and a model," a new version of the City on the Hill of old – "exceptional in everything from culture and science to agriculture and politics."
Dr. Larry Allums is director of the Dallas Institute for Humanities and Culture. His e-mail address is lallums@dallasinstitute.org.
Larry Allums: America the bold but not so beautiful News for Dallas, Texas Dallas Morning News Opinion: Points
For those who, like me, are pro-American and looking for insights into an uncertain future, Joel Kotkin's optimism in The Next Hundred Million: America in 2050 is close to infectious. Amid pronouncements of America's decline or prophecies of its imminent doom, his forecast of our continuing vitality is a welcome respite.
Perhaps the most convincing aspect of Kotkin's claim for our success in the 21st century is that he avoids the sort of triumphalism that has the sound of excess – the hollow vanity Aristotle lists as one of the extremes either side of the golden mean of "greatness of soul." Nor does Kotkin go to the opposite extreme and suggest that America must now discover humility and share its past greatness with other nations. Rather, he really does claim not only a material greatness but a kind of greatness of soul for America, by which he seems to mean a quality not measurable as much by the data he uses so expertly as by a kind of interior, collective character sown into the soil of our founding that continues to nourish new growth, regardless of the massive change our democracy habitually thrives upon.
Describing America's "fundamental strengths," Kotkin ironically but perhaps appropriately employs a non-Anglo word: "These traits provide the United States with what Japanese scholar Fuji Kamiya has described as sokojikara: a reserve power that allows it to overcome both the inadequacies of its leaders and the foibles of its citizens."
This rather mythic designation – mythic in the sense that it attempts to get at the essential character of a people – carries strong overtones of an American destiny, but clearly post-colonial and post-imperial. Kotkin believes that simply in following our internal compass and allowing our character to guide crucial choices, our ascendancy during this century will be, if not assured, certainly much more likely and, if we work at it, virtually guaranteed.
Working at it means striking a balance, Kotkin says, between piety toward our "ancient ideals" and openness to future change –in which case "the United States can emerge as a land of unprecedented opportunity: a youthful, evolving nation amid an advanced industrial world beset by old age, bitter ethnic conflicts and erratically functioning economic institutions."
This hopeful prospect hinges upon a momentous "if," because the two factors needing to be balanced are by nature in tension, if not opposition. Having in a sense begun in impiety – revolt against Mother Country – Americans are habitually ready to embrace change at piety's expense.
Notoriously, we find it easy to turn on a dime away from our past, perhaps because it almost never carries immediate consequences. Whether we can achieve the balance Kotkin so easily calls for will depend on our ability to manage another balancing act: between measurable and non-measurable dimensions of education, or between things that matter in terms of material worth and those that matter in terms of moral and spiritual value.
Our natural openness to change is, according to Kotkin, a primary nutrient in the soil of the American character, and for him being open includes embracing not just new technology but the kind of change we are currently experiencing as social and political crisis: what immigrants bring to the full flowering of the American Dream. Kotkin's assertions are, after all, grounded in a demographic forecast, that our population will grow by 100 million during the first half of the century – "demographics as destiny," as he dramatically puts it. Of Scotch-Irish descent and therefore part of a diminishing subset of Americans, I nevertheless found myself easily agreeing with most every point of his pro-immigrant stance.
Whereas "anti-natalists," slow-growth advocates and racial purists would regard continuing immigration as disastrous, Kotkin sees it as our source of ascendancy over the countries most often cited as our potential vanquishers – mainly India, China and the European Union: "Only successful immigration can provide the markets, the manpower and, perhaps most important, the youthful energy to keep western societies vital and growing," he writes. For me this sorts well, if not eloquently, with the Rev. Martin Luther King's image in his "I Have a Dream" speech of the Founders' "promissory note" to which "every
American was to fall heir."
The questions are, where will the next 100 million Americans live, and what will they do in this future epoch that will at once be an extension of the old and an emergence of the new?
Kotkin's answers are consistently provocative and sometimes troubling – especially to those who envision a future of urban renewal and a commensurate shrinking of America's dogged preference since World War II for suburban life. Not so, says Kotkin: "Rather than be forced to cluster in cities, Americans are likely to increasingly opt for communities that blend the single-family housing patterns of suburbia with basic urban amenities."
As a transplanted city dweller from the Deep South, I devoutly prefer urban life and believe in the city-center concept, but Kotkin's scenario doesn't put me off, because it avoids an either-or conclusion. The next 100 million, he says, will be enough for the vitality of both city and suburb. If he's right, and it appears he is, that "we're moving beyond the industrial model, with economic activity diffusing from great population centers," then perhaps we're entering a period when people of varying circumstances can choose not to live in urban areas and still aspire upward as Americans always have.
Until recently, civilizational advances have typically resulted in forced movements toward urban cores. We seem now to have reached a true turning point – when the movement will go back the other way, to the suburbs and beyond, even to the great American Heartland for which Kotkin foresees a dramatic resurgence.
Kotkin's bright estimate of America's potential has great appeal, but there's something beguiling, almost Pied-Piper like, about the neutrality of his predictions. It seems to me traceable to his use of the word sokojikara to define that deeply imbedded, almost mythic quality of the American character. My reservations have to do with two issues he minimizes or leaves out of his equation: education and beauty.
The first, education, is prominent among our national concerns, yet it is almost always discussed or debated only in terms of work-force skills and measurable knowledge. True, these are vitally connected to our national destiny on a material level. But tunnel-visioned as we are with high-stakes testing, we rarely contemplate the importance of a whole curriculum in ensuring our vital future in a changing, threatening world.
Like Kotkin, we seem to assume that matters of character and ideals – the very things that define sokojikara – will take care of themselves, that they are self-renewing and that as long as we remain politically correct, both our native-born and immigrant youth will somehow acquire the values, the moral habituation, that will keep us strong in heart and soul. At best, this is placing a lot of faith in the permanence of American Identity; at worst, it is risking the continued existence of America itself.
The other issue conspicuous by its absence from Kotkin's account is beauty, which has everything to do with education. Beauty is a forbidden subject today, especially in academe, yet the core of our education ought to focus precisely on beautiful things, which certainly include cities and suburbs.
Beauty matters in innumerable and often unmeasurable ways. According to the ancient Greeks, true education involves learning about what is good – the good thought, the good judgment, the good action – and what is good is necessarily beautiful. The Greeks in fact had one word – kaloskagathos – that coalesced the two into an inseparable meaning. Kotkin implies that there are no real distinctions to be made in terms of beauty – no beautiful cities or suburbs; only those that succeed, that is, those we prefer.
Kotkin's omissions don't invalidate his vision of America in 2050. In fact, there is room in his copious forecast for educating future Americans in what is both good and beautiful. Moreover, I would say that such an education is necessary if we are to be, as he predicts, "a beacon and a model," a new version of the City on the Hill of old – "exceptional in everything from culture and science to agriculture and politics."
Dr. Larry Allums is director of the Dallas Institute for Humanities and Culture. His e-mail address is lallums@dallasinstitute.org.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Judgement
In lieu of posting my personal, "poor me" Consortium piece that I composed for the topic, "judgement," I've decided to share this apt op ed instead:
My Take: Christian politicians should start acting Christian
Editor's Note: Richard T. Hughes is Distinguished Professor of Religion at Messiah College and author of Christian America and the Kingdom of God.
By Richard T. Hughes, Special to CNN
Let me be frank from the outset: A great cultural divide is ripping the heart from this nation and Christians are partly responsible.
I say that because 83% of the American people claim to be Christians. If those Christians lived as they are taught to live by the teacher they claim to follow, the American public square would be a very different kind of place.
If one reads the New Testament—the charter for the Christian religion—one can discover rather quickly what that tradition is all about.
Jesus tells his followers to tell the truth.
Jesus tells his followers to make peace.
Jesus tells his followers to turn the other cheek.
Jesus tells his followers to bless those who persecute them and pray for those who misuse them.
Jesus tells his followers to extend justice, especially to the poor and the dispossessed.
Jesus tells his followers to serve as bridge-builders and agents of reconciliation.
And Jesus tells his followers to love one another, even their enemies.
But based on their words and behavior, we may safely conclude that many of the Christians who dominate America’s public square routinely reject the teachings of Jesus, in spite of their claims to the contrary.
Sharron Angle, for example, wants to be the next U. S. Senator from Nevada. She founded a Christian school but casually announces that “the nation is arming” since “if we don’t win at the ballot box, what will be the next step?” For Angle, that next step is clear: those who oppose the current administration may “have to fight for their liberty in more Second Amendment kinds of ways.” In other words, if the ballot fails, the bullet is the next best hope.
Sarah Palin is open about her allegiance to the Christian faith, but routinely trades in sarcasm, deceptions and lies about her political opposition. During the health care debate, she repeated over and again the falsehood that “the sick, the elderly, and the disabled . . . will have to stand in front of Obama’s ‘death panel’ so his bureaucrats can decide . . . whether they are worthy of health care.”
Newt Gingrich trumpets his allegiance to the Christian religion and writes about the role of the Christian faith in American history. He also knows that Barack Obama is a Christian. Yet he shamelessly denounces Obama as “secular”—a term Gingrich defines as an “outlook [that] does not acknowledge God.”
No wonder that some Tea Partiers claim—as one woman put it—that “we are losing our country; we think the Muslims are moving in and taking over; we do not believe our president is a Christian.”
Glenn Beck warned a national television audience to “look for the words ‘social justice’ or ‘economic justice’ on your church Web site. If you find it, run as fast as you can,” adding that those terms are code words for communism and nazism. Surely Beck knows that there is no theme more central to biblical faith than social and economic justice for the poor, but still he is willing to distort the Christian religion for cheap political gain.
Ann Coulter promotes herself as a representative of the Christian religion. Yet, Coulter claimed after September 11, 2001 that the United States “should invade their countries [Muslim nations], kill their leaders and convert them to Christianity.”
When public figures like these so completely diminish the Christian faith, it is hardly surprising that grassroots believers often engage in similar distortions of the Christian religion.
Some Christians at anti-Obama rallies have displayed signs that proclaim, “Since 1630: Bible hugging! Gun toting! Red Blooded American Against Tyranny.” Or another: “I will keep my freedom, my Bible, my gun, and my money.”
When Christians so widely and publicly embrace such blatant distortions of the Christian religion, they abandon one of the roles they might have played in America’s public square: fostering civility and dialogue and building lasting bridges of reconciliation.
But civility and respect have been all but lost in contemporary American politics. Alan Keyes, for example, has proclaimed that “Obama is a radical communist.” And one of the signs that routinely appears at anti-Obama rallies shows the President wearing a Nazi uniform and doing a Hitler salute. Another sign reads, “Barack Hussein Obama: the New Face of Hitler.” Those kinds of accusations are nothing short of slander.
The issue I am raising has nothing to do with whether one is a Republican, a Democrat, a Tea Partier, or an independent. Neither political conservatives nor political liberals have a monopoly on this kind of behavior, though in recent months conservatives opposed to Barack Obama have been especially guilty.
Yet the issue I am raising ultimately has nothing to do with whether one likes or dislikes Barack Obama. The issue has to do with Christians behaving like Christians and thereby telling the truth, doing justice, and promoting basic respect for other human beings.
After all, since 83% of the American population identifies with the Christian religion, that 83% could make an enormous difference in the tone of American politics if those Christians actually practiced what they profess to believe. They could also make a positive difference in American politics if they held other Christians accountable when they engage in deception and slander in order to score political points.
America’s churches and their pastors therefore have a grave responsibility: to urge their members to serve the public square as peacemakers, as truth-tellers, as people devoted to justice, and as men and women who are actually willing to practice what Jesus taught. If America’s churches refuse to take up this task—which, after all, is a task that is central to the Christian calling—the consequences for our country could be dire, indeed.
(Thanks to my friend (and minister-to-be), Evie for bringing this to my attention.)
My Take: Christian politicians should start acting Christian
Editor's Note: Richard T. Hughes is Distinguished Professor of Religion at Messiah College and author of Christian America and the Kingdom of God.
By Richard T. Hughes, Special to CNN
Let me be frank from the outset: A great cultural divide is ripping the heart from this nation and Christians are partly responsible.
I say that because 83% of the American people claim to be Christians. If those Christians lived as they are taught to live by the teacher they claim to follow, the American public square would be a very different kind of place.
If one reads the New Testament—the charter for the Christian religion—one can discover rather quickly what that tradition is all about.
Jesus tells his followers to tell the truth.
Jesus tells his followers to make peace.
Jesus tells his followers to turn the other cheek.
Jesus tells his followers to bless those who persecute them and pray for those who misuse them.
Jesus tells his followers to extend justice, especially to the poor and the dispossessed.
Jesus tells his followers to serve as bridge-builders and agents of reconciliation.
And Jesus tells his followers to love one another, even their enemies.
But based on their words and behavior, we may safely conclude that many of the Christians who dominate America’s public square routinely reject the teachings of Jesus, in spite of their claims to the contrary.
Sharron Angle, for example, wants to be the next U. S. Senator from Nevada. She founded a Christian school but casually announces that “the nation is arming” since “if we don’t win at the ballot box, what will be the next step?” For Angle, that next step is clear: those who oppose the current administration may “have to fight for their liberty in more Second Amendment kinds of ways.” In other words, if the ballot fails, the bullet is the next best hope.
Sarah Palin is open about her allegiance to the Christian faith, but routinely trades in sarcasm, deceptions and lies about her political opposition. During the health care debate, she repeated over and again the falsehood that “the sick, the elderly, and the disabled . . . will have to stand in front of Obama’s ‘death panel’ so his bureaucrats can decide . . . whether they are worthy of health care.”
Newt Gingrich trumpets his allegiance to the Christian religion and writes about the role of the Christian faith in American history. He also knows that Barack Obama is a Christian. Yet he shamelessly denounces Obama as “secular”—a term Gingrich defines as an “outlook [that] does not acknowledge God.”
No wonder that some Tea Partiers claim—as one woman put it—that “we are losing our country; we think the Muslims are moving in and taking over; we do not believe our president is a Christian.”
Glenn Beck warned a national television audience to “look for the words ‘social justice’ or ‘economic justice’ on your church Web site. If you find it, run as fast as you can,” adding that those terms are code words for communism and nazism. Surely Beck knows that there is no theme more central to biblical faith than social and economic justice for the poor, but still he is willing to distort the Christian religion for cheap political gain.
Ann Coulter promotes herself as a representative of the Christian religion. Yet, Coulter claimed after September 11, 2001 that the United States “should invade their countries [Muslim nations], kill their leaders and convert them to Christianity.”
When public figures like these so completely diminish the Christian faith, it is hardly surprising that grassroots believers often engage in similar distortions of the Christian religion.
Some Christians at anti-Obama rallies have displayed signs that proclaim, “Since 1630: Bible hugging! Gun toting! Red Blooded American Against Tyranny.” Or another: “I will keep my freedom, my Bible, my gun, and my money.”
When Christians so widely and publicly embrace such blatant distortions of the Christian religion, they abandon one of the roles they might have played in America’s public square: fostering civility and dialogue and building lasting bridges of reconciliation.
But civility and respect have been all but lost in contemporary American politics. Alan Keyes, for example, has proclaimed that “Obama is a radical communist.” And one of the signs that routinely appears at anti-Obama rallies shows the President wearing a Nazi uniform and doing a Hitler salute. Another sign reads, “Barack Hussein Obama: the New Face of Hitler.” Those kinds of accusations are nothing short of slander.
The issue I am raising has nothing to do with whether one is a Republican, a Democrat, a Tea Partier, or an independent. Neither political conservatives nor political liberals have a monopoly on this kind of behavior, though in recent months conservatives opposed to Barack Obama have been especially guilty.
Yet the issue I am raising ultimately has nothing to do with whether one likes or dislikes Barack Obama. The issue has to do with Christians behaving like Christians and thereby telling the truth, doing justice, and promoting basic respect for other human beings.
After all, since 83% of the American population identifies with the Christian religion, that 83% could make an enormous difference in the tone of American politics if those Christians actually practiced what they profess to believe. They could also make a positive difference in American politics if they held other Christians accountable when they engage in deception and slander in order to score political points.
America’s churches and their pastors therefore have a grave responsibility: to urge their members to serve the public square as peacemakers, as truth-tellers, as people devoted to justice, and as men and women who are actually willing to practice what Jesus taught. If America’s churches refuse to take up this task—which, after all, is a task that is central to the Christian calling—the consequences for our country could be dire, indeed.
(Thanks to my friend (and minister-to-be), Evie for bringing this to my attention.)
Friday, May 28, 2010
Voices I (hope to always) Recall
I'm going to miss my International Baccalaureate class dearly. They are graduating seniors and are off to college next year. This week ends our two year journey together, and I am incredibly humbled by their gratitude and appreciation. I love them. A lot.
As a concluding assignment, I asked my kids to write "This I Believe" essays (in the same form as NPR's 1950's program) - Christine's brilliant (as usual) idea. All of the essays are special - inspirational and personal - because they define what's important to the kids right here, right now. One of my kids, Lauren, wrote a particularly insightful essay about the importance of internationalism, especially regarding education. Her words are poignant and universal. Please enjoy this incredible wisdom from an 18 year old kid:
When I started high school, I was basically a loser. I wanted to get in and out as soon as possible, putting in the minimum effort. I didn't think I had much to learn. I could read and write and I knew what I thought about, well, everything. I knew what was right and what was wrong and what needed to change in the world. I still have a moral code. I know what needs to change. But everything else is different.
I started in International Baccalaureate (IB) flat-out disagreeing with a lot of people in it. With their ideologies, political views, study habits even. I also started out wanting to get my diploma basically to prove that I could. I still thought I knew everything, and after two years of the same ole, I figured I needed to do something challenging before I died of apathy.
And now? I still disagree with a lot of people about a lot of things, but my beliefs - and how I view theirs - have altered drastically.
This I believe - if we are to achieve world peace, we must first seek world education. Universal teaching, not necessarily of the same curriculum, but of the same ideal: that people must learn how to think. They must learn to think for themselves, and they must learn to question those thoughts. Every culture in the world gives their children a different beginning. Every country, every village, every family. Each child begins with a foundation, but to question it, examine it.. And to be willing to change it.. How we know what we know?- Theory of Knowledge (TOK) asks. And that's the most important question anyone will ever be posed.
I don't care if every kid learns Mandarin because that's not really the universal language, is it? There will always be translators of words. The hardest thing is to translate thoughts. Beliefs. How do other people think? Where are they coming from? Where are they standing? A lot of wars have been fought over that kind of translation.
I started out headstrong, and I ended up in love with diversity. I'm pretty much a firm believer in learning through experience. I feel like if every student spent two years in class next to a girl as lovely and compassionate as my friend, Yassmin, there would be fewer idiots in the hallways telling jokes at her expense. I believe that if one in a hundred classes could include the incredible variety of human thought that each and every one of ours does - this is what we do where I'm from; this is what my religion says; this is how we think differently, and the same - there would be a lot fewer hate crimes and stupid remarks and just horrible ignorance in general. There are kids in this country, state, and city who barely even see people of a different ethnicity on a daily basis. How on earth are we supposed to be a global community if we don't even get what our neighbors are saying?
I really didn't care when I began this programme. And then it started to sink in: what IB means, and through that, what education means. And I started to care. I know other apathetic students could, too. I believe that if everyone had to go through this - essentially write a college-level thesis in high school, have discussions in every class, research and study with every resource available like their lives depended on it - they would love learning, or at least take a little pride in their educations. I believe that no one would ever fault their child for wanting a college degree, or two, or four, nor would they confuse academia with elitism.
So, yes, I believe in IB. Me, my classmates, my teachers - we could really change the world because whether we realize it or not, we know what to do. I believe in education and yes, even TOK. I believe in myself, and I believe in all of the future CEO's and presidents, and diplomats I share math class with.
This I believe.
This post was inspired by the Loose Bloggers Consortium, a small and feisty(!) global community. We write weekly on a common topic (Voices I Recall, this week) and post responses - all of us together, simultaneously, from all over the world. (Lovely!) Please visit Anu, Ashok, Conrad, gaelikaa, Grannymar, Judy, Magpie 11, Maria and Ramana for other wonderful posts.
As a concluding assignment, I asked my kids to write "This I Believe" essays (in the same form as NPR's 1950's program) - Christine's brilliant (as usual) idea. All of the essays are special - inspirational and personal - because they define what's important to the kids right here, right now. One of my kids, Lauren, wrote a particularly insightful essay about the importance of internationalism, especially regarding education. Her words are poignant and universal. Please enjoy this incredible wisdom from an 18 year old kid:
When I started high school, I was basically a loser. I wanted to get in and out as soon as possible, putting in the minimum effort. I didn't think I had much to learn. I could read and write and I knew what I thought about, well, everything. I knew what was right and what was wrong and what needed to change in the world. I still have a moral code. I know what needs to change. But everything else is different.
I started in International Baccalaureate (IB) flat-out disagreeing with a lot of people in it. With their ideologies, political views, study habits even. I also started out wanting to get my diploma basically to prove that I could. I still thought I knew everything, and after two years of the same ole, I figured I needed to do something challenging before I died of apathy.
And now? I still disagree with a lot of people about a lot of things, but my beliefs - and how I view theirs - have altered drastically.
This I believe - if we are to achieve world peace, we must first seek world education. Universal teaching, not necessarily of the same curriculum, but of the same ideal: that people must learn how to think. They must learn to think for themselves, and they must learn to question those thoughts. Every culture in the world gives their children a different beginning. Every country, every village, every family. Each child begins with a foundation, but to question it, examine it.. And to be willing to change it.. How we know what we know?- Theory of Knowledge (TOK) asks. And that's the most important question anyone will ever be posed.
I don't care if every kid learns Mandarin because that's not really the universal language, is it? There will always be translators of words. The hardest thing is to translate thoughts. Beliefs. How do other people think? Where are they coming from? Where are they standing? A lot of wars have been fought over that kind of translation.
I started out headstrong, and I ended up in love with diversity. I'm pretty much a firm believer in learning through experience. I feel like if every student spent two years in class next to a girl as lovely and compassionate as my friend, Yassmin, there would be fewer idiots in the hallways telling jokes at her expense. I believe that if one in a hundred classes could include the incredible variety of human thought that each and every one of ours does - this is what we do where I'm from; this is what my religion says; this is how we think differently, and the same - there would be a lot fewer hate crimes and stupid remarks and just horrible ignorance in general. There are kids in this country, state, and city who barely even see people of a different ethnicity on a daily basis. How on earth are we supposed to be a global community if we don't even get what our neighbors are saying?
I really didn't care when I began this programme. And then it started to sink in: what IB means, and through that, what education means. And I started to care. I know other apathetic students could, too. I believe that if everyone had to go through this - essentially write a college-level thesis in high school, have discussions in every class, research and study with every resource available like their lives depended on it - they would love learning, or at least take a little pride in their educations. I believe that no one would ever fault their child for wanting a college degree, or two, or four, nor would they confuse academia with elitism.
So, yes, I believe in IB. Me, my classmates, my teachers - we could really change the world because whether we realize it or not, we know what to do. I believe in education and yes, even TOK. I believe in myself, and I believe in all of the future CEO's and presidents, and diplomats I share math class with.
This I believe.
This post was inspired by the Loose Bloggers Consortium, a small and feisty(!) global community. We write weekly on a common topic (Voices I Recall, this week) and post responses - all of us together, simultaneously, from all over the world. (Lovely!) Please visit Anu, Ashok, Conrad, gaelikaa, Grannymar, Judy, Magpie 11, Maria and Ramana for other wonderful posts.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Women International - March 8th
Dear Friends,
A hundred years ago, a group of women got together and decided we needed a day to celebrate women globally, regardless of our marital status, our ability or inability to have children, regardless of who we are in age, color, or where we come from. In countries like Bosnia and Herzegovina, every man and boy gives a flower to each woman and girl on International Women’s Day.
We all have envisioned a day where women will speak out and speak up, to break their silence and demand peace, justice, and more equality in this world. A hundred years have gone by and women have accomplished a lot in legal protection, political and economic representation, education, and so many other areas. But the road to full equality for women is still long, and our vision of justice and sustainable, full peace in our lives has yet to come.
On behalf of our sisters who are meeting on March 8 in Rwanda and the DR Congo, our sisters who are meeting in Bosnia and Kosovo, our sisters who are meeting in London and Sydney, and our sisters in over 50 cities, I am asking all of you to join me, Women for Women International, and women around the world on a bridge on that day. I ask that we, women from all over, consciously take the time out of the working day and our personal life to celebrate International Women’s Day.
It is a time where we will join the drumming beats of drummers, our own drums, and our own heartbeats. A time where we can march, tie our fabrics together, celebrate who we are and what we have given to our families and societies, and more than that, demand an immediate peace and an end to all the wars that are going on in our lifetime and are destroying many lives.
Women need to stand and speak up because:
* 80% of the women in Bosnia and Herzegovina are unemployed when they enroll in our program
* 75% of war casualties are women and children
* Women produce 50% of the world’s food and only own 1% of the property
* 82% of the women in our Afghanistan program are illiterate
* 70% of the women in our DR Congo program have had their village attacked
These statistics show women are disproportionally marginalized in the world. It is time to change that. It is time to speak out. It is time to break our silence. It is time to demand peace and justice. It is time to join on the bridge.
Please join us. I know I will be at the Brooklyn Bridge at 12:00 pm on March 8th. Bring your drums. Bring your fabric. Bring your dreams.
Let us make that day a day the time to celebrate our womanhood, our voices, our contribution to society.
For more information on all of the bridge meetings around the world, please visit www.womenforwomen.org/bridge.
In sisterhood,
Zainab Salbi
Founder and CEOWomen for Women International
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Thursday, December 3, 2009
American Gods
Christine introduced me to this book yesterday. More than wanting to read the book, I think the idea is interesting - that the God(s) of yore, whatever name you give him, can't survive in America for all of the demi-gods - money, Internet, reality TV shows, talking heads, patriotism, etc. - that distract us. I'm not feeling especially spiritual at the moment, but I can say that I understand the lightning speed chaos that stems from worshipping such idols. The intriguing thing is we don't even know we're doing it. In some cases, we've snowed ourselves into believing that we can be faithful in the midst of such distractions, and feel, dare I use the word, "righteous" in our justifications that are rooted in distraction.
From Publishers Weekly
Titans clash, but with more fuss than fury in this fantasy demi-epic from the author of Neverwhere. The intr
iguing premise of Gaiman's tale is that the gods of European yore, who came to North America with their immigrant believers, are squaring off for a rumble with new indigenous deities: "gods of credit card and freeway, of Internet and telephone, of radio and hospital and television, gods of plastic and of beeper and of neon." They all walk around in mufti, disguised as ordinary people, which causes no end of trouble for 32-year-old protagonist Shadow Moon, who can't turn around without bumping into a minor divinity. Released from prison the day after his beloved wife dies in a car accident, Shadow takes a job as emissary for Mr. Wednesday, avatar of the Norse god Grimnir, unaware that his boss's recruiting trip across the American heartland will subject him to repeat visits from the reanimated corpse of his dead wife and brutal roughing up by the goons of Wednesday's adversary, Mr. World. At last Shadow must reevaluate his own deeply held beliefs in order to determine his crucial role in the final showdown. Gaiman tries to keep the magical and the mundane evenly balanced, but he is clearly more interested in the activities of his human protagonists: Shadow's poignant personal moments and the tale's affectionate slices of smalltown life are much better developed than the aimless plot, which bounces Shadow from one episodic encounter to another in a design only the gods seem to know. Mere mortal readers will enjoy the tale's wit, but puzzle over its strained mythopoeia.
I don't mean to bash faith or religion, or secularization for that matter. I, for one, can't be on any high horse crusade when it comes to spirituality. No one can be, actually (and ironically).
A few years ago, I audited a class that proposed that the reason people/nations war is because they are afraid of losing their cultural identities, that clinging to one's norms in acts of desperation precipitates violence. This makes me think about our country, the "most powerful nation in the world," and what exactly our "norms" are. Are we being clingy? And if so, for what purpose? And do we really want to protect our brand of godliness?
From Publishers Weekly
Titans clash, but with more fuss than fury in this fantasy demi-epic from the author of Neverwhere. The intr
iguing premise of Gaiman's tale is that the gods of European yore, who came to North America with their immigrant believers, are squaring off for a rumble with new indigenous deities: "gods of credit card and freeway, of Internet and telephone, of radio and hospital and television, gods of plastic and of beeper and of neon." They all walk around in mufti, disguised as ordinary people, which causes no end of trouble for 32-year-old protagonist Shadow Moon, who can't turn around without bumping into a minor divinity. Released from prison the day after his beloved wife dies in a car accident, Shadow takes a job as emissary for Mr. Wednesday, avatar of the Norse god Grimnir, unaware that his boss's recruiting trip across the American heartland will subject him to repeat visits from the reanimated corpse of his dead wife and brutal roughing up by the goons of Wednesday's adversary, Mr. World. At last Shadow must reevaluate his own deeply held beliefs in order to determine his crucial role in the final showdown. Gaiman tries to keep the magical and the mundane evenly balanced, but he is clearly more interested in the activities of his human protagonists: Shadow's poignant personal moments and the tale's affectionate slices of smalltown life are much better developed than the aimless plot, which bounces Shadow from one episodic encounter to another in a design only the gods seem to know. Mere mortal readers will enjoy the tale's wit, but puzzle over its strained mythopoeia. I don't mean to bash faith or religion, or secularization for that matter. I, for one, can't be on any high horse crusade when it comes to spirituality. No one can be, actually (and ironically).
A few years ago, I audited a class that proposed that the reason people/nations war is because they are afraid of losing their cultural identities, that clinging to one's norms in acts of desperation precipitates violence. This makes me think about our country, the "most powerful nation in the world," and what exactly our "norms" are. Are we being clingy? And if so, for what purpose? And do we really want to protect our brand of godliness?
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
The Advent Conspiracy
The story of Christ's birth is a subversive story of an upside-down kingdom. It's a story of promise, hope, and a revolutionary love that is still changing the world to this day. So, what happened? What was once a time to celebrate the birth of a savior has somehow turned into a season of stress, traffic jams, and shopping lists. And when it's all over, many of us are left with presents to return, looming debt that will take months to pay off, and this empty feeling that we somehow missed its purpose.
Is this what we really want out of Christmas?
What if Christmas became a world-changing event again by turning our focus back to the birth of Christ? What could happen to your family if this focus was celebrated in loud, bold and totally unexpected ways? What if you could actually trade your season of stress for a season celebration and unbelievable memories with your friends and family? What if all of this could save a life at the same time? It can.
Welcome to Advent Conspiracy
Learn more at www.adventconspiracy.org
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Worrisome
on Predator Drone Missle Attacks, in our own words:Anticapatory self-defense,
"Virtuless killing"
Cubicle warriors
"Squirters" (the targeted people who run for cover as seen on a computer screen)
Rubble and charred stuff
Extrajudicial killings
"The only game in town"
worryingly seductive war, perceived as "costless"
[not] an honorable way of combat
* all phrases are from "The Predator War: What are the risks of the CIS's covert drone program?" by Jane Mayer. The New Yorker Magazine. October 26, 2009.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
For Your Information Age
I can see how data and information can be seen as something that can cause the collapse of civilization, lest we forget what happened in Eden, the fruit that was consumed. But also, we've always had to sieve through the information we've been given, and now we have to be much more adept at doing so than ever before. I would assert that the problem is not that society is becoming lazy in their thinking. We're always looking for loopholes to not have to physically work as hard (a problem in itself, as Gandhi pointed out), but in the looking we're exercising the mind. (And, as it happens, a mind at rest is working just as hard, if not harder, than a mind at work because it has to compensate for the inactivity.) So, the problem is not in too much information. The problem is that we have to sift faster than we can manage.
If there is to be Renaissance, then it may be in allowing data to be data, for what it's worth and in recognizing that, like tools, data can be helpful but there should always be a respect for the rudiments - the things that are foundational to everything else: loving, thinking, believing, creating, empathizing, growing gardens, etc.
Civilization cannot end until there is an overwhelming absence of the rudiments. And if only one person recognizes the value in the rudiments, another cannot help but reciprocate - it's human nature.
I still believe that the world is good - data or no, materialism and greed included - because we are horrified by the bad things, and most of us still work at caring for each other, even in the West.
Please, activist friends, remember that people are good.
If there is to be Renaissance, then it may be in allowing data to be data, for what it's worth and in recognizing that, like tools, data can be helpful but there should always be a respect for the rudiments - the things that are foundational to everything else: loving, thinking, believing, creating, empathizing, growing gardens, etc.
Civilization cannot end until there is an overwhelming absence of the rudiments. And if only one person recognizes the value in the rudiments, another cannot help but reciprocate - it's human nature.
I still believe that the world is good - data or no, materialism and greed included - because we are horrified by the bad things, and most of us still work at caring for each other, even in the West.
Please, activist friends, remember that people are good.
Monday, October 26, 2009
You've Been Hit By a Smooth Criminal.
Apparently I am a criminal.
That's how I'm being treated, anyway. My school informed me that the Feds are fingerprinting all teachers, and my turn is tomorrow. Why is this happening, you ask? Well the answer, I think, is very simple. It's that.. (covering mouth as I mumble something incoherent) .. WHO THE HELL KNOWS? As far as I can guess, they are doing a thorough background check on each of the teachers in this country to make sure we aren't pedos or arsonists or borders crossers or something horrifying. I mean you can never tell, right? I have shifty eyes, after all..
So, of course, I immediately protested the idea. I asked questions like, "Why is the current background check not enough?" and, "What percentage of teachers are actually criminals?" and, "If there are so many shady teachers, then who the hell is doing the hiring?" followed by, "Isn't this a statement about society - that they think all teachers are criminals?" and finally, "What happens if I refuse to give up my digits?"
Only one answer was given and only to the last question. The answer was, "Your teaching certificate - the one that you earned, the one that says, "Sure I'll keep getting punched in the gut for a thankless job that no one wants unless they want to do something wussy like help society"; the one that, apparently, is very accessible to pedos - that certificate will be suspended indefinitely."
My next question was (and is) "How is this not against my fundamental rights - that you can fire me because I refuse to be fingerprinted like a criminal?" No. Answer. Just a reminder about what will happen if I don't comply. Did I mention that they're making us pay for it, too? Fortunately (and I'm saying this in the same way a person might smile as he's pouring salt into his own wound), our state is paying for our share..
Fine. So, I'm being fingerprinted tomorrow at 1:50 pm which will be a difficult task for the print taker seeing as my hands have been tied behind my back. I'll be handing a random person a form with my social security number, my drivers licence number, my birth date, my maiden name, my height and weight. Hope they don't lose it in the parking lot on the way to wherever they're going, seeing as pretty much anyone can now steal my identity at the cost of a small gust of wind, or a poorly organized clerk, or another shifty-eyed fellow.
If that weren't bad enough, I also had to declare my ethnicity on a different form, for another "information" gathering agency. This was also mandatory. I clicked the box that said, "Other." Or maybe it said, "Why does that matter/How does that effect my teaching ability?" Actually the box, according to me, said, "It's really none of your business". The drop down menu under that option gently explained that "they" will physically come and check if I choose not to declare. Fine. Again. But I'm not going to make it easy.
That's how I'm being treated, anyway. My school informed me that the Feds are fingerprinting all teachers, and my turn is tomorrow. Why is this happening, you ask? Well the answer, I think, is very simple. It's that.. (covering mouth as I mumble something incoherent) .. WHO THE HELL KNOWS? As far as I can guess, they are doing a thorough background check on each of the teachers in this country to make sure we aren't pedos or arsonists or borders crossers or something horrifying. I mean you can never tell, right? I have shifty eyes, after all..
So, of course, I immediately protested the idea. I asked questions like, "Why is the current background check not enough?" and, "What percentage of teachers are actually criminals?" and, "If there are so many shady teachers, then who the hell is doing the hiring?" followed by, "Isn't this a statement about society - that they think all teachers are criminals?" and finally, "What happens if I refuse to give up my digits?"
Only one answer was given and only to the last question. The answer was, "Your teaching certificate - the one that you earned, the one that says, "Sure I'll keep getting punched in the gut for a thankless job that no one wants unless they want to do something wussy like help society"; the one that, apparently, is very accessible to pedos - that certificate will be suspended indefinitely."
My next question was (and is) "How is this not against my fundamental rights - that you can fire me because I refuse to be fingerprinted like a criminal?" No. Answer. Just a reminder about what will happen if I don't comply. Did I mention that they're making us pay for it, too? Fortunately (and I'm saying this in the same way a person might smile as he's pouring salt into his own wound), our state is paying for our share..
Fine. So, I'm being fingerprinted tomorrow at 1:50 pm which will be a difficult task for the print taker seeing as my hands have been tied behind my back. I'll be handing a random person a form with my social security number, my drivers licence number, my birth date, my maiden name, my height and weight. Hope they don't lose it in the parking lot on the way to wherever they're going, seeing as pretty much anyone can now steal my identity at the cost of a small gust of wind, or a poorly organized clerk, or another shifty-eyed fellow.
If that weren't bad enough, I also had to declare my ethnicity on a different form, for another "information" gathering agency. This was also mandatory. I clicked the box that said, "Other." Or maybe it said, "Why does that matter/How does that effect my teaching ability?" Actually the box, according to me, said, "It's really none of your business". The drop down menu under that option gently explained that "they" will physically come and check if I choose not to declare. Fine. Again. But I'm not going to make it easy.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Musless Opinionator Reeks
So here are some things to say:
1. I'm studying MLK with my kids at school. And I love him. A lot. There are lots of "universalism's" I would love to share except that I fear that when/if I do, those ideas will be ever so politely shat upon, and yes, one can "shat" politely. Southerners are excellent at it, bless our hearts. So, instead of writing a rant I'll simply say:
*There is no excuse for violence, in word or deed. (And I would argue that words are more violent than bombs, especially reactionary, ignorant (as in without knowledge) ones.)
*There is a universal moral code and it has nothing to do with politic, race, or religion.
*People (including me) need to be more involved in standing up for people who can't or who have no voice.
*I found that I could substitute the word "impoverished" for the word "Negro" in many of King's writings and his message would be even more apt these days, though the minority message is still important.
2. I've been reading a lot: The Book Thief, Ethan Frome, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, and now Perfume. The Unbearable Lightness of Being stunned me. My brain can't move forward after reading that book for some reason which may be why I've been at a blog loss. The Book Thief is excellent.. until the very last line. It ruined the book for me. Ethan Frome was interesting in the "longing aspect". Stephanie Meyer is also excellent at teasing the reader with unconsummated relationships. But killing oneself by sledding into a tree? COME. ON. There are better ways, Edith Wharton. There are better ways. Perfume is interesting. I was not at all concerned about the movie, so we'll see if the book stands up. I suppose reading MLK makes everything else seem petty..
3. Rush Limbaugh used to be the devil. Now the devil is Glenn Beck. It's weird how quickly the devil can change forms.
4. Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize. Some are upset by that and/or say he doesn't deserve it. I think we (me included) don't realize how much America (and I mean Americans, not just politicians) has hurt other nations. We're just now realizing how absolutely shitty we've been. Actually, I hope we are beginning to realize how absolutely shitty we've been and I hope we can recover from it..
5. I love U2. Jerry Jones made a stadium (at the expense of too many families who were displaced) that made the greatest band in the world sound bad. That mixed with the fact that those around me asked me to sit down for the show, made it the worst U2 show I've seen. I didn't realize that the etiquette for attending a ROCK show was akin to being pew-bound in the Baptist Church, tapping your toes, listening to the feature vocalist sing, enjoying the music and then wondering whether or not it is appropriate to clap for fear that God , or worse, the congregation, would judge you for being too enthusiastic. Being true to form, I stood the whole time.. in stiletto heels.. just to make a point. Still, the worst U2 concert is better than the best any-other-show I've ever attended.
And on and on and on.
1. I'm studying MLK with my kids at school. And I love him. A lot. There are lots of "universalism's" I would love to share except that I fear that when/if I do, those ideas will be ever so politely shat upon, and yes, one can "shat" politely. Southerners are excellent at it, bless our hearts. So, instead of writing a rant I'll simply say:
*There is no excuse for violence, in word or deed. (And I would argue that words are more violent than bombs, especially reactionary, ignorant (as in without knowledge) ones.)
*There is a universal moral code and it has nothing to do with politic, race, or religion.
*People (including me) need to be more involved in standing up for people who can't or who have no voice.
*I found that I could substitute the word "impoverished" for the word "Negro" in many of King's writings and his message would be even more apt these days, though the minority message is still important.
2. I've been reading a lot: The Book Thief, Ethan Frome, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, and now Perfume. The Unbearable Lightness of Being stunned me. My brain can't move forward after reading that book for some reason which may be why I've been at a blog loss. The Book Thief is excellent.. until the very last line. It ruined the book for me. Ethan Frome was interesting in the "longing aspect". Stephanie Meyer is also excellent at teasing the reader with unconsummated relationships. But killing oneself by sledding into a tree? COME. ON. There are better ways, Edith Wharton. There are better ways. Perfume is interesting. I was not at all concerned about the movie, so we'll see if the book stands up. I suppose reading MLK makes everything else seem petty..
3. Rush Limbaugh used to be the devil. Now the devil is Glenn Beck. It's weird how quickly the devil can change forms.
4. Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize. Some are upset by that and/or say he doesn't deserve it. I think we (me included) don't realize how much America (and I mean Americans, not just politicians) has hurt other nations. We're just now realizing how absolutely shitty we've been. Actually, I hope we are beginning to realize how absolutely shitty we've been and I hope we can recover from it..
5. I love U2. Jerry Jones made a stadium (at the expense of too many families who were displaced) that made the greatest band in the world sound bad. That mixed with the fact that those around me asked me to sit down for the show, made it the worst U2 show I've seen. I didn't realize that the etiquette for attending a ROCK show was akin to being pew-bound in the Baptist Church, tapping your toes, listening to the feature vocalist sing, enjoying the music and then wondering whether or not it is appropriate to clap for fear that God , or worse, the congregation, would judge you for being too enthusiastic. Being true to form, I stood the whole time.. in stiletto heels.. just to make a point. Still, the worst U2 concert is better than the best any-other-show I've ever attended.
And on and on and on.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Three Cups of Tea
"In Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace . . . One School at a Time , Greg Mortenson, and journalist David Oliver Relin, recount the journey that led Mortenson from a failed 1993 attempt to climb Pakistan’s K2, the world’s second highest mountain, to successfully establish schools in some of the most remote regions of Afghanistan and Pakistan. By replacing guns with pencils, rhetoric with reading, Mortenson combines his unique background with his intimate knowledge of the third-world to promote peace with books, not bombs, and successfully bring education and hope to remote communities in central Asia. Three Cups of Tea is at once an unforgettable adventure and the inspiring true story of how one man really is changing the world—one school at a time."Greg Mortenson will win a Nobel Peace Prize someday.
I say READ THIS BOOK.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Redefining Education
I wrote the following for a group called Project 2012, a discussion forum of folks who advocate true democracy (and who call for universal human rights) in community form. I'm not sure about how it will be received, or even if it will be, so I'm posting it here. Please pet me in case they don't.. :) Enjoy:
The classroom, like a church, is a sacred place where the teacher, like the minister, has an inviolate commission, not only to be a guide, but to serve. He cannot be a party to the capitalist's idea of prosperity, one that does not equate to abundance. Instead, he has to understand that his investment is one of respect - that the only way to create communitas is to engage in a true learning, a democratic society where all opinions are weighed, where everyone, including the teacher, learns, thus producing profit for all.
Thanks to this list, I allowed myself to think about what ideal education looks like stripped of the confines and/or trappings of government interference: assessments, budgets, rules, and dogma. I looked at Gandhi who spoke in terms of "the village." He spoke about education in relational terms - that the educator is also the student. He believed in educating the whole person and was a proponent of manual labor (and against machinery), insisting that it was faulty to consider that type of work lesser than any other type. I looked at the ideas of the Brazilian philosopher, Paulo Freire, who also promoted education as a relationship - more democratic in the give and take. There are a million philosophies to consider Hegel, Bloom, Rousseau, Marx... Too many.
I decided, instead, to pose the ideal as a question to my colleagues, fellow teachers who have more years of combined experience than they'd like for me to share. I asked them, "What does genuine education look like? Is it possible?"
The thing that all of the responses had in common (though different approaches were offered) was that "kids learn to think." Too often (and to the detriment of society) have we created automatons - robots who can produce the correct answer, but who can't explain how they've arrived there. We have kids who can operate technology, but who don't understand how the technology works. Somehow that's a respect issue.
In the US the modern school system was created to produce factory workers. From there, it has itself become a factory of capitalist production where minimal investment is expected to create a maximum return. Unfortunately, this system is backfiring in a huge way, to the detriment of society.
We have to go back to a place where education is about the exchange, about thinking and experimentation -trial and error and consideration -where getting the wrong answer is ok as long as you learn from the attempt.
I don't know what that kind of school truly looks like, other than it must be divorced of standardized everything. But education is expensive, especially in the investments of time, patience, and money. It also requires a ridiculous amount of trust. I do know that there are many teachers out there who understand this and who attempt to participate in the ideal despite the interference of the state. That's hopeful at least.
The classroom, like a church, is a sacred place where the teacher, like the minister, has an inviolate commission, not only to be a guide, but to serve. He cannot be a party to the capitalist's idea of prosperity, one that does not equate to abundance. Instead, he has to understand that his investment is one of respect - that the only way to create communitas is to engage in a true learning, a democratic society where all opinions are weighed, where everyone, including the teacher, learns, thus producing profit for all.
Thanks to this list, I allowed myself to think about what ideal education looks like stripped of the confines and/or trappings of government interference: assessments, budgets, rules, and dogma. I looked at Gandhi who spoke in terms of "the village." He spoke about education in relational terms - that the educator is also the student. He believed in educating the whole person and was a proponent of manual labor (and against machinery), insisting that it was faulty to consider that type of work lesser than any other type. I looked at the ideas of the Brazilian philosopher, Paulo Freire, who also promoted education as a relationship - more democratic in the give and take. There are a million philosophies to consider Hegel, Bloom, Rousseau, Marx... Too many.
I decided, instead, to pose the ideal as a question to my colleagues, fellow teachers who have more years of combined experience than they'd like for me to share. I asked them, "What does genuine education look like? Is it possible?"
The thing that all of the responses had in common (though different approaches were offered) was that "kids learn to think." Too often (and to the detriment of society) have we created automatons - robots who can produce the correct answer, but who can't explain how they've arrived there. We have kids who can operate technology, but who don't understand how the technology works. Somehow that's a respect issue.
In the US the modern school system was created to produce factory workers. From there, it has itself become a factory of capitalist production where minimal investment is expected to create a maximum return. Unfortunately, this system is backfiring in a huge way, to the detriment of society.
We have to go back to a place where education is about the exchange, about thinking and experimentation -trial and error and consideration -where getting the wrong answer is ok as long as you learn from the attempt.
I don't know what that kind of school truly looks like, other than it must be divorced of standardized everything. But education is expensive, especially in the investments of time, patience, and money. It also requires a ridiculous amount of trust. I do know that there are many teachers out there who understand this and who attempt to participate in the ideal despite the interference of the state. That's hopeful at least.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
People in Common - Democracy in Action
The following gives voice to a lovely message and movement going on in London. Please enjoy this from my friend, Mark:
I think I'll go for a picnic next week end..
I think I'll go for a picnic next week end..
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Beaten
In a world where one can find any "conclusive evidence" to back what she is saying, it is surprisingly difficult to actually form a cohesive argument. What I mean is that people are emotional, reactionary creatures. We have a deep seeded need to be "right" in order to justify our actions, and we'll use any argument to prove ourselves. We are especially good at manipulating emotions by using words such as "God! Justice! Freedom!" and any other store of "evidence" we've gathered from our cultural norms.
Unfortunately, sometimes when we are at our wits end - when we know we're sunk, in over our heads, dead wrong, up shit creek (you get the idea)- the most most moving counter one can come up with is, "Oh yeah?! Well, my dad can beat up your dad!" This is ultimate desperation play, and, by the way, is a total lie for most of us. But she - the opponent - didn't know that.
Lately, I've been fighting a battle. Seriously. I've gone "to the mat." And literally, too - as in, one on one, face to mat. Because my proverbial nose is so smushed in, and I can't breath anything but sweaty, mildewed vinyl mixed with the sulfury smell of my own proverbial blood, I think it's safe to say that I lost. K.O. Game over. Roll credits.
As many of you know, I am sort of a wanna-be activist, though the only "march" or "protest" I've ever participated in was when I found myself blissfully lost in DC, and I accidentally stumbled into a march for Haitian rights. I did stop by the "Stop the War" camp in Parliament Square last time I was in London and shared an umbrella and a chat with some very interesting people who were staying there for a season. (Read more about the company I keep and then tell me I'm pretty)*
I want to be conscientious of issues, even if I am not participating in a march. What I'm learning - and this pertains to the fight - is that it is ridiculous for me - an average person, of average intelligence and height - to assume that I can win an argument against a full fledged activist. I don't have the wherewithal or the gumption. My battle scars aren't deep enough, and my tears are too salty. I also learned a little about cruelty and compassion, that if one can successfully mix the two in just the right amounts, one is assured "victory".
It doesn't matter what the argument was that caused me to be lying limp and broken on this mat, her shadow lording over me. Her win was in her concluding remarks - full of righteous indignance and God and poetry. I mean, who can argue with that? She won. Not because she's smarter than me or right, but because she knows the correct way to argue - the winning rhetorical combination - the right one, two.
It turns out it takes a few good ass kickings to learn how to respond to certain bullies, even ones who claim that "God is on their side". It also turns out I am a very good student.
*I am a member of a list (hardly active on my part,but very active on my friend, Mark's) that advocates true community cohesion and decision making, what they call a Campaign for Real Democracy. My teaching job is quite a platform for activism. The International Baccalaureate Program I teach with promotes international mindedness (not globalization), in an effort to help people embrace cultural differences. "Tolerating" differences implies that a negative judgement has been made. We must do more. Some of my friends in Arizona "break the law" by leaving gallon water jugs in the desert for people who are trying to cross the border and who sometimes die of dehydration in their efforts. (The activists from the Restoration Project were acquitted, by the way. It turns out leaving water in the desert so that people don't die is a difficult case to prosecute morally.)
Unfortunately, sometimes when we are at our wits end - when we know we're sunk, in over our heads, dead wrong, up shit creek (you get the idea)- the most most moving counter one can come up with is, "Oh yeah?! Well, my dad can beat up your dad!" This is ultimate desperation play, and, by the way, is a total lie for most of us. But she - the opponent - didn't know that.
Lately, I've been fighting a battle. Seriously. I've gone "to the mat." And literally, too - as in, one on one, face to mat. Because my proverbial nose is so smushed in, and I can't breath anything but sweaty, mildewed vinyl mixed with the sulfury smell of my own proverbial blood, I think it's safe to say that I lost. K.O. Game over. Roll credits.
As many of you know, I am sort of a wanna-be activist, though the only "march" or "protest" I've ever participated in was when I found myself blissfully lost in DC, and I accidentally stumbled into a march for Haitian rights. I did stop by the "Stop the War" camp in Parliament Square last time I was in London and shared an umbrella and a chat with some very interesting people who were staying there for a season. (Read more about the company I keep and then tell me I'm pretty)*
I want to be conscientious of issues, even if I am not participating in a march. What I'm learning - and this pertains to the fight - is that it is ridiculous for me - an average person, of average intelligence and height - to assume that I can win an argument against a full fledged activist. I don't have the wherewithal or the gumption. My battle scars aren't deep enough, and my tears are too salty. I also learned a little about cruelty and compassion, that if one can successfully mix the two in just the right amounts, one is assured "victory".
It doesn't matter what the argument was that caused me to be lying limp and broken on this mat, her shadow lording over me. Her win was in her concluding remarks - full of righteous indignance and God and poetry. I mean, who can argue with that? She won. Not because she's smarter than me or right, but because she knows the correct way to argue - the winning rhetorical combination - the right one, two.
It turns out it takes a few good ass kickings to learn how to respond to certain bullies, even ones who claim that "God is on their side". It also turns out I am a very good student.
*I am a member of a list (hardly active on my part,but very active on my friend, Mark's) that advocates true community cohesion and decision making, what they call a Campaign for Real Democracy. My teaching job is quite a platform for activism. The International Baccalaureate Program I teach with promotes international mindedness (not globalization), in an effort to help people embrace cultural differences. "Tolerating" differences implies that a negative judgement has been made. We must do more. Some of my friends in Arizona "break the law" by leaving gallon water jugs in the desert for people who are trying to cross the border and who sometimes die of dehydration in their efforts. (The activists from the Restoration Project were acquitted, by the way. It turns out leaving water in the desert so that people don't die is a difficult case to prosecute morally.)
Friday, July 17, 2009
Musings on God and Doughnuts
"What came back to me then was the sign that used to be in the window of the Downyflake Doughnut, at the Sunnyside Amusement Park, in - what was it? - the summer of 1935:
'As you ramble on through life, Brother,
Whatever be your goal,
Keep your eye upon the doughnut,
And not upon the hole'
"A paradox, the doughnut hole. Empty space, once, but now they've learned to market even that. A minus quantity; nothing, rendered edible. I wonder if they might be used - metaphorically, of course - to demonstrate the existence of God. Does naming a sphere of nothingness transmute into being?"
--from The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood
It's scary to think of it, but probably necessary. I wonder what we've done, regarding God. I don't believe we've "named a sphere of nothingness" because God exists in a very real way, but we sure have done some renaming. Somehow in our very human (and immature) drive for superiority - to be the best! - we've managed to make God a commodity, selling our ideas to any takers, hopefully the ones with the most influence.
Too harsh for a Friday morning?
In sincerity, lets go back to the happiness of doughnut holes and morning coffee, then. This post is merely meant to provoke thoughts, not anger.
'As you ramble on through life, Brother,
Whatever be your goal,
Keep your eye upon the doughnut,
And not upon the hole'
"A paradox, the doughnut hole. Empty space, once, but now they've learned to market even that. A minus quantity; nothing, rendered edible. I wonder if they might be used - metaphorically, of course - to demonstrate the existence of God. Does naming a sphere of nothingness transmute into being?"
--from The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood
It's scary to think of it, but probably necessary. I wonder what we've done, regarding God. I don't believe we've "named a sphere of nothingness" because God exists in a very real way, but we sure have done some renaming. Somehow in our very human (and immature) drive for superiority - to be the best! - we've managed to make God a commodity, selling our ideas to any takers, hopefully the ones with the most influence.
Too harsh for a Friday morning?
In sincerity, lets go back to the happiness of doughnut holes and morning coffee, then. This post is merely meant to provoke thoughts, not anger.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Wishful Mantra
a mantra:
The world is good. (Breathe in)
The world is good. (Breathe out)
The world is good. (Breathe in.. Breathe out)
How can the world be good in the midst of all the bad?
Because atrocities are still atrocities.
Because normal folks take care of each other.
Because amidst conflict there is resilience.
Because mothers have to believe it is so,
so that they can justify their motherhoods.
They cuddle their babies close,
and whisper in their ears
"The world is good."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I can't get it out of my head. I knew I shouldn't have watched it. I couldn't resist. Maybe I wanted to feel whatever emotion was gurgling up to the surface. Maybe I wanted to feel political. Maybe I have a fascination with the macabre. Maybe I felt a responsibility to see it.
For whatever reason, I watched the Iranian girl bleed out in that 10 second on-line clip. And then I hit replay. And then I walked away from the computer. I felt like maybe I shouldn't have watched it after all, seeing as death - that death - should've been a private moment. I was embarrassed that I had exploited her very personal death moment, that I was all of a sudden part of the millions who would make her a martyr or a villain.
I don't usually want to watch those sorts of things - war and death and sprawled corpses- in reality. When the news announcer warns about graphic footage, I, as a rule, turn my head with the other children. I can't take it. I can't understand why people are so barbaric. My body literally rejects the reality of violent death.
I have to admit that I do watch CSI and Criminal Minds, shows that are fiction and that market murder and gore. But they are fiction shows. They are not real. But when I watched her die, I couldn't help but think that her death resembled ones I had seen on the fiction shows - the last breath and movement, the blood from the mouth, the nose, and then pooling around her body, the vacant stare, the helpless man desperately trying to stanch the inevitable.
There are actually those who question the validity of the video and suggest that it is a propagandist's attempt at emotional appeal for the Iranian protesters. President Obama referenced it reverently in his press conference, specifically when he addressed how the US would respond to Iran's attempt at democracy and how the protests and the Iranian government's response would "play out." The existence of the video of her death is now political fodder for both sides.
Fine.
But I'm more interested in the humanity (or inhumanity) of it. How do we live with ourselves? What is our responsibility when it comes to injustices? How can we determine what is authentic in a society that fabricates reality - when we can't tell the news from Criminal Minds?
Ignoring it all is the wrong choice. I know that. Dr. King often said that it is more egregious to ignore suffering and not take a side than it is to be on the wrong side. Living our lives pretending that people don't suffer is morally unjust.
I always err on the side of the oppressed.
But what is there to do? Prayer seems like a cop out sometimes, an action that justifies inaction.
What I will do today is acknowledge the humanity of the dead woman and try to respect her death, even though I feel as though I have violated her. Also, even if it is a cop out for not knowing what else to do, I repeat my mantra/prayer and whisper to my one year old, "The world is good. The world, Baby Jack, overall is good."
The world is good. (Breathe in)
The world is good. (Breathe out)
The world is good. (Breathe in.. Breathe out)
How can the world be good in the midst of all the bad?
Because atrocities are still atrocities.
Because normal folks take care of each other.
Because amidst conflict there is resilience.
Because mothers have to believe it is so,
so that they can justify their motherhoods.
They cuddle their babies close,
and whisper in their ears
"The world is good."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I can't get it out of my head. I knew I shouldn't have watched it. I couldn't resist. Maybe I wanted to feel whatever emotion was gurgling up to the surface. Maybe I wanted to feel political. Maybe I have a fascination with the macabre. Maybe I felt a responsibility to see it.
For whatever reason, I watched the Iranian girl bleed out in that 10 second on-line clip. And then I hit replay. And then I walked away from the computer. I felt like maybe I shouldn't have watched it after all, seeing as death - that death - should've been a private moment. I was embarrassed that I had exploited her very personal death moment, that I was all of a sudden part of the millions who would make her a martyr or a villain.
I don't usually want to watch those sorts of things - war and death and sprawled corpses- in reality. When the news announcer warns about graphic footage, I, as a rule, turn my head with the other children. I can't take it. I can't understand why people are so barbaric. My body literally rejects the reality of violent death.
I have to admit that I do watch CSI and Criminal Minds, shows that are fiction and that market murder and gore. But they are fiction shows. They are not real. But when I watched her die, I couldn't help but think that her death resembled ones I had seen on the fiction shows - the last breath and movement, the blood from the mouth, the nose, and then pooling around her body, the vacant stare, the helpless man desperately trying to stanch the inevitable.
There are actually those who question the validity of the video and suggest that it is a propagandist's attempt at emotional appeal for the Iranian protesters. President Obama referenced it reverently in his press conference, specifically when he addressed how the US would respond to Iran's attempt at democracy and how the protests and the Iranian government's response would "play out." The existence of the video of her death is now political fodder for both sides.
Fine.
But I'm more interested in the humanity (or inhumanity) of it. How do we live with ourselves? What is our responsibility when it comes to injustices? How can we determine what is authentic in a society that fabricates reality - when we can't tell the news from Criminal Minds?
Ignoring it all is the wrong choice. I know that. Dr. King often said that it is more egregious to ignore suffering and not take a side than it is to be on the wrong side. Living our lives pretending that people don't suffer is morally unjust.
I always err on the side of the oppressed.
But what is there to do? Prayer seems like a cop out sometimes, an action that justifies inaction.
What I will do today is acknowledge the humanity of the dead woman and try to respect her death, even though I feel as though I have violated her. Also, even if it is a cop out for not knowing what else to do, I repeat my mantra/prayer and whisper to my one year old, "The world is good. The world, Baby Jack, overall is good."
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
With Crime and Punishment For All
Plinky asks, "What activity should be considered a crime? Explain why this behavior should not be tolerated and describe a fitting punishment."
Dante's Inferno, the first part of The Divine Comedy, describes the worst crimes committed by the worst sinners, and then he details the specific punishments for each of those crimes. He says the worst sin/crime known to man is when a person is a traitor to his master. That's why Satan sits in Dante's frozen hell, flapping his six wings to keep the place icy (as should be the place that is absent of light and love), chewing on the likes of Brutus, Cassius, and Judas Iscariot. Dante felt that betrayal was certainly worse than those that our Western society seems to be hung up on - suicide, abortion, murder, and homosexuality**. Though we are likely to nod at several of Dante's suggestions, we have to remember that he was also very political and actually named names when talking about some crimes and punishments - not so Christ-like, I'm afraid.
We obviously must talk about Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment when Plinky suggests that we do. In it, the main character, Raskolnikov, commits a double murder while in a deranged state. His punishment is existence itself. Rather it is living with his own troubled conscience.
For Meursault in The Stranger, the crime again is murder, though really he is tried for apathy - not crying at his mother's funeral; the punishment is that he is "beheaded in the name of the French government" which is not nearly as bad a punishment to him as is being deprived of a cigarette and sex while in jail. Eventually, even those thing are of little consequence. After all, everyone dies eventually, right? Why is execution better or worse than any other death?
For Shakespeare's overexposed couple, Romeo and Juliet, love and naivete make up the crime and the absence of that love is the punishment. Death joins them in the end. In The Tragedy of Macbeth, Macbeth is too ambitious. It's death and delusion for him. Lear favors the wrong daughters and goes insane. Hamlet's crime is revenge, also punishable by all encompassing death - no one, not the criminal nor the innocent, makes it in the end.
In real life, Martin Luther King said that the biggest crime committed in society is inaction. In many speeches and writings he says that folks who turn blind eyes to injustice are the criminals. I suppose his crime was speaking the truth that many were reluctant to hear. His punishment was being forced to leave this world before his dream was realized. Society's punishment was the loss of a very wise man, their crime being apathy.
And on and on and on.
The point of me going over all of this is to say my answer is I don't know. Literary geniuses have gone over this in many, many works. There is no conclusive answer. Murder, of course, is bad. Rape is horrendous. And still I'm inclined to say that apathy is the most ruinous because apathy can literally kill millions - (See Darfur, for reference). But then, ambition and greed, crimes that are lesser ones in our culture, can have a similar result.
I vote, instead, that we take the wisdom of those who have spent time pondering such things with a grain of salt, and focus, rather, on the things we can do for each other. Maybe if more of us wholly invested ourselves in our metaphorical gardens, taking care of our families and our communities, there would be less crime to think about, and less punishment to inflict.
* the other parts being Purgatorio and Paradiso, don't-cha know
** Apart from murder, our society has no business persecuting or prosecuting these "crimes". Shouldn't we focus on helping and loving each other? Why are we so fucking stuck in what we call 'righteousness', when really our agenda embodies exclusion and hate!?
Dante's Inferno, the first part of The Divine Comedy, describes the worst crimes committed by the worst sinners, and then he details the specific punishments for each of those crimes. He says the worst sin/crime known to man is when a person is a traitor to his master. That's why Satan sits in Dante's frozen hell, flapping his six wings to keep the place icy (as should be the place that is absent of light and love), chewing on the likes of Brutus, Cassius, and Judas Iscariot. Dante felt that betrayal was certainly worse than those that our Western society seems to be hung up on - suicide, abortion, murder, and homosexuality**. Though we are likely to nod at several of Dante's suggestions, we have to remember that he was also very political and actually named names when talking about some crimes and punishments - not so Christ-like, I'm afraid.
We obviously must talk about Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment when Plinky suggests that we do. In it, the main character, Raskolnikov, commits a double murder while in a deranged state. His punishment is existence itself. Rather it is living with his own troubled conscience.
For Meursault in The Stranger, the crime again is murder, though really he is tried for apathy - not crying at his mother's funeral; the punishment is that he is "beheaded in the name of the French government" which is not nearly as bad a punishment to him as is being deprived of a cigarette and sex while in jail. Eventually, even those thing are of little consequence. After all, everyone dies eventually, right? Why is execution better or worse than any other death?
For Shakespeare's overexposed couple, Romeo and Juliet, love and naivete make up the crime and the absence of that love is the punishment. Death joins them in the end. In The Tragedy of Macbeth, Macbeth is too ambitious. It's death and delusion for him. Lear favors the wrong daughters and goes insane. Hamlet's crime is revenge, also punishable by all encompassing death - no one, not the criminal nor the innocent, makes it in the end.
In real life, Martin Luther King said that the biggest crime committed in society is inaction. In many speeches and writings he says that folks who turn blind eyes to injustice are the criminals. I suppose his crime was speaking the truth that many were reluctant to hear. His punishment was being forced to leave this world before his dream was realized. Society's punishment was the loss of a very wise man, their crime being apathy.
And on and on and on.
The point of me going over all of this is to say my answer is I don't know. Literary geniuses have gone over this in many, many works. There is no conclusive answer. Murder, of course, is bad. Rape is horrendous. And still I'm inclined to say that apathy is the most ruinous because apathy can literally kill millions - (See Darfur, for reference). But then, ambition and greed, crimes that are lesser ones in our culture, can have a similar result.
I vote, instead, that we take the wisdom of those who have spent time pondering such things with a grain of salt, and focus, rather, on the things we can do for each other. Maybe if more of us wholly invested ourselves in our metaphorical gardens, taking care of our families and our communities, there would be less crime to think about, and less punishment to inflict.
* the other parts being Purgatorio and Paradiso, don't-cha know
** Apart from murder, our society has no business persecuting or prosecuting these "crimes". Shouldn't we focus on helping and loving each other? Why are we so fucking stuck in what we call 'righteousness', when really our agenda embodies exclusion and hate!?
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Showing posts with label politico. Show all posts
Showing posts with label politico. Show all posts
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Regarding London
Regarding London:
There is so much hopping around in my brain right now that blogging seems ridiculous. But then maybe that's the point - the idea that I can be relatable, appreciated, and, I admit, loved in a virtual world. Not that I'm not sincere - most of the time - but that the chaos of life (who I am in this life) can be ordered somehow in an 8x4 computer window is outright silly.
And now for the old college try... whatever that means:
1. Shaun of the Dead is real.
Rich and I were in London during several work days, and it looked just exactly like the movie when people were commuting to work in the morning - zombies and regular folk alike - and one would be hard pressed to tell the difference between the dead tired and the truly dead. The tube was full of silent carriages, the only movement an occasional yawn, and even that kept to a minimum because a yawn would be proof of a living being. I tried not to look around ( a dead giveaway that I was a tourist), but I couldn't help but laugh.. thankfully, silently, when I then remembered the slipping on the brains part of the film. To make matters worse, this advert decorated nearly every tube station:
There is so much hopping around in my brain right now that blogging seems ridiculous. But then maybe that's the point - the idea that I can be relatable, appreciated, and, I admit, loved in a virtual world. Not that I'm not sincere - most of the time - but that the chaos of life (who I am in this life) can be ordered somehow in an 8x4 computer window is outright silly.
And now for the old college try... whatever that means:
1. Shaun of the Dead is real.
Rich and I were in London during several work days, and it looked just exactly like the movie when people were commuting to work in the morning - zombies and regular folk alike - and one would be hard pressed to tell the difference between the dead tired and the truly dead. The tube was full of silent carriages, the only movement an occasional yawn, and even that kept to a minimum because a yawn would be proof of a living being. I tried not to look around ( a dead giveaway that I was a tourist), but I couldn't help but laugh.. thankfully, silently, when I then remembered the slipping on the brains part of the film. To make matters worse, this advert decorated nearly every tube station:
For the record, the zombies in the picture are WAY more enthusiastic than the ones commuting to work. These must be the after 10 zombies.
2. My mother was right.
Cars are weapons and we only get one chance. That was the line she fed me when I was a teenager. At the time, I knew that probably she was right, that I didn't really want to find out, and that hopefully God was on my side, especially since I had gone on practically every youth group mission offered. It turns out, that all she had to do to teach me the validity of this lesson was put me in a car in England with my husband. (sigh)
I'm not saying (ahem) that Rich is a bad driver.. He's just a bad driver in England. In his defense, I practically badgered him into it, reminding him that it was my birthday and that it could be romantic to visit the countryside and picnic near the sheep. It might even be fun, I intimated, to get stung by the nettles and have to look for the leafy cure which, as we all learned years ago in England when I got stung on my backside during an ill-timed bathroom emergency at Hadrian's Wall, is always nearby. We compromised. We took a train out of London and into Oxford where we rented a car and drove through the Cotswolds. It was a gorgeous drive, minus the honking and the curb brushing, and we learned how to utilize round-abouts (kind of), we learned about how to fill a tank with gas (not so different), and we also learned that driving in England is a stress to our marriage and that probably we should stick to train riding. The kind folks in Stow-on-the Wold would agree.
3. I am possibly the most lazy blogger in the world.
Actually, the photo pasting is kind of a nightmare here and my patience is waning. So here's what I'll do: Speed blogging followed by a photo montage, hopefully in slide show format:
* We saw some excellent political/modern art at two fantastic galleries - The Saatchi Gallery in a posh part of London and at the ICA where we viewed a political Russian opera film called Dissent while reclining in beds.
*We took a day trip to Canterbury - made the Pilgrimage, Chaucer style, yo! (minus the donkey/horse riding, the lack of bathing, and the story-telling)- and had a moment of silence for Thomas Becket on the alter where he was murdered. We also witnessed a bell ceremony there in remembrance of all soldiers. I couldn't help but marvel at how American it seemed.. or possibly how British we still are.
* My friends, Mark and Ilham, took me out to lunch at a fantastic open-aired cafe for my birthday and then the next evening took me, a Texan, to a Mexican restaurant called La Mexicana, co-owned by a native Mexican and a Turk, who employed a blond haired, fantastically sarcastic Canadian. All three - the Turk, the Mexican, and the Canadian - wore sombreros and sang Happy Birthday to me in front of a mural depicting a cowboy screaming "Yee Ow!" See, this is why I love Mark and Ilham. They thought to take me to that awesomely surreal place, and it wasn't that weird to them.
*We watched ping pong matches in St. James Park. Had I known ping pong was a free-for-all sport there, I totally would've played. Next time..
* We visited various pubs, including the good-ole standby - the Black Friar- and ate all kinds of horrifically bad for you pub foods, including fried fish sandwiches and a plowman's lunch. Of course there was shepherd's pie (duh), but sadly no bangers and mash.We declined the invitation to "go out back" to the bar-be-cue at the local pub near our hotel where it was perfectly acceptable behavior to roll around in the floor with puppies. I can't begin to explain that - the puppy part - except to say that it happened, and we tried not to stare at the coin slots. Seriously. At the time I was worried about looking all touristy.. but in retrospect, it just grossed me out.
And now for the montage:
4. London is my favorite place on the planet.
We spent a huge amount of time walking around the city and then taking the tube back to our hotel. We ran across several fantastic sites, including the Victoria Rail Station and a car boot sale (where I bought a purse). Mark even took me on a tour of his school - yet another reminder of how same we all are.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Larry Allums: America the bold but not so beautiful | News for Dallas, Texas | Dallas Morning News | Opinion: Points
My friend and mentor, Dr. Larry Allums, published an op ed in today's paper. Please enjoy:
Larry Allums: America the bold but not so beautiful News for Dallas, Texas Dallas Morning News Opinion: Points
For those who, like me, are pro-American and looking for insights into an uncertain future, Joel Kotkin's optimism in The Next Hundred Million: America in 2050 is close to infectious. Amid pronouncements of America's decline or prophecies of its imminent doom, his forecast of our continuing vitality is a welcome respite.
Perhaps the most convincing aspect of Kotkin's claim for our success in the 21st century is that he avoids the sort of triumphalism that has the sound of excess – the hollow vanity Aristotle lists as one of the extremes either side of the golden mean of "greatness of soul." Nor does Kotkin go to the opposite extreme and suggest that America must now discover humility and share its past greatness with other nations. Rather, he really does claim not only a material greatness but a kind of greatness of soul for America, by which he seems to mean a quality not measurable as much by the data he uses so expertly as by a kind of interior, collective character sown into the soil of our founding that continues to nourish new growth, regardless of the massive change our democracy habitually thrives upon.
Describing America's "fundamental strengths," Kotkin ironically but perhaps appropriately employs a non-Anglo word: "These traits provide the United States with what Japanese scholar Fuji Kamiya has described as sokojikara: a reserve power that allows it to overcome both the inadequacies of its leaders and the foibles of its citizens."
This rather mythic designation – mythic in the sense that it attempts to get at the essential character of a people – carries strong overtones of an American destiny, but clearly post-colonial and post-imperial. Kotkin believes that simply in following our internal compass and allowing our character to guide crucial choices, our ascendancy during this century will be, if not assured, certainly much more likely and, if we work at it, virtually guaranteed.
Working at it means striking a balance, Kotkin says, between piety toward our "ancient ideals" and openness to future change –in which case "the United States can emerge as a land of unprecedented opportunity: a youthful, evolving nation amid an advanced industrial world beset by old age, bitter ethnic conflicts and erratically functioning economic institutions."
This hopeful prospect hinges upon a momentous "if," because the two factors needing to be balanced are by nature in tension, if not opposition. Having in a sense begun in impiety – revolt against Mother Country – Americans are habitually ready to embrace change at piety's expense.
Notoriously, we find it easy to turn on a dime away from our past, perhaps because it almost never carries immediate consequences. Whether we can achieve the balance Kotkin so easily calls for will depend on our ability to manage another balancing act: between measurable and non-measurable dimensions of education, or between things that matter in terms of material worth and those that matter in terms of moral and spiritual value.
Our natural openness to change is, according to Kotkin, a primary nutrient in the soil of the American character, and for him being open includes embracing not just new technology but the kind of change we are currently experiencing as social and political crisis: what immigrants bring to the full flowering of the American Dream. Kotkin's assertions are, after all, grounded in a demographic forecast, that our population will grow by 100 million during the first half of the century – "demographics as destiny," as he dramatically puts it. Of Scotch-Irish descent and therefore part of a diminishing subset of Americans, I nevertheless found myself easily agreeing with most every point of his pro-immigrant stance.
Whereas "anti-natalists," slow-growth advocates and racial purists would regard continuing immigration as disastrous, Kotkin sees it as our source of ascendancy over the countries most often cited as our potential vanquishers – mainly India, China and the European Union: "Only successful immigration can provide the markets, the manpower and, perhaps most important, the youthful energy to keep western societies vital and growing," he writes. For me this sorts well, if not eloquently, with the Rev. Martin Luther King's image in his "I Have a Dream" speech of the Founders' "promissory note" to which "every
American was to fall heir."
The questions are, where will the next 100 million Americans live, and what will they do in this future epoch that will at once be an extension of the old and an emergence of the new?
Kotkin's answers are consistently provocative and sometimes troubling – especially to those who envision a future of urban renewal and a commensurate shrinking of America's dogged preference since World War II for suburban life. Not so, says Kotkin: "Rather than be forced to cluster in cities, Americans are likely to increasingly opt for communities that blend the single-family housing patterns of suburbia with basic urban amenities."
As a transplanted city dweller from the Deep South, I devoutly prefer urban life and believe in the city-center concept, but Kotkin's scenario doesn't put me off, because it avoids an either-or conclusion. The next 100 million, he says, will be enough for the vitality of both city and suburb. If he's right, and it appears he is, that "we're moving beyond the industrial model, with economic activity diffusing from great population centers," then perhaps we're entering a period when people of varying circumstances can choose not to live in urban areas and still aspire upward as Americans always have.
Until recently, civilizational advances have typically resulted in forced movements toward urban cores. We seem now to have reached a true turning point – when the movement will go back the other way, to the suburbs and beyond, even to the great American Heartland for which Kotkin foresees a dramatic resurgence.
Kotkin's bright estimate of America's potential has great appeal, but there's something beguiling, almost Pied-Piper like, about the neutrality of his predictions. It seems to me traceable to his use of the word sokojikara to define that deeply imbedded, almost mythic quality of the American character. My reservations have to do with two issues he minimizes or leaves out of his equation: education and beauty.
The first, education, is prominent among our national concerns, yet it is almost always discussed or debated only in terms of work-force skills and measurable knowledge. True, these are vitally connected to our national destiny on a material level. But tunnel-visioned as we are with high-stakes testing, we rarely contemplate the importance of a whole curriculum in ensuring our vital future in a changing, threatening world.
Like Kotkin, we seem to assume that matters of character and ideals – the very things that define sokojikara – will take care of themselves, that they are self-renewing and that as long as we remain politically correct, both our native-born and immigrant youth will somehow acquire the values, the moral habituation, that will keep us strong in heart and soul. At best, this is placing a lot of faith in the permanence of American Identity; at worst, it is risking the continued existence of America itself.
The other issue conspicuous by its absence from Kotkin's account is beauty, which has everything to do with education. Beauty is a forbidden subject today, especially in academe, yet the core of our education ought to focus precisely on beautiful things, which certainly include cities and suburbs.
Beauty matters in innumerable and often unmeasurable ways. According to the ancient Greeks, true education involves learning about what is good – the good thought, the good judgment, the good action – and what is good is necessarily beautiful. The Greeks in fact had one word – kaloskagathos – that coalesced the two into an inseparable meaning. Kotkin implies that there are no real distinctions to be made in terms of beauty – no beautiful cities or suburbs; only those that succeed, that is, those we prefer.
Kotkin's omissions don't invalidate his vision of America in 2050. In fact, there is room in his copious forecast for educating future Americans in what is both good and beautiful. Moreover, I would say that such an education is necessary if we are to be, as he predicts, "a beacon and a model," a new version of the City on the Hill of old – "exceptional in everything from culture and science to agriculture and politics."
Dr. Larry Allums is director of the Dallas Institute for Humanities and Culture. His e-mail address is lallums@dallasinstitute.org.
Larry Allums: America the bold but not so beautiful News for Dallas, Texas Dallas Morning News Opinion: Points
For those who, like me, are pro-American and looking for insights into an uncertain future, Joel Kotkin's optimism in The Next Hundred Million: America in 2050 is close to infectious. Amid pronouncements of America's decline or prophecies of its imminent doom, his forecast of our continuing vitality is a welcome respite.
Perhaps the most convincing aspect of Kotkin's claim for our success in the 21st century is that he avoids the sort of triumphalism that has the sound of excess – the hollow vanity Aristotle lists as one of the extremes either side of the golden mean of "greatness of soul." Nor does Kotkin go to the opposite extreme and suggest that America must now discover humility and share its past greatness with other nations. Rather, he really does claim not only a material greatness but a kind of greatness of soul for America, by which he seems to mean a quality not measurable as much by the data he uses so expertly as by a kind of interior, collective character sown into the soil of our founding that continues to nourish new growth, regardless of the massive change our democracy habitually thrives upon.
Describing America's "fundamental strengths," Kotkin ironically but perhaps appropriately employs a non-Anglo word: "These traits provide the United States with what Japanese scholar Fuji Kamiya has described as sokojikara: a reserve power that allows it to overcome both the inadequacies of its leaders and the foibles of its citizens."
This rather mythic designation – mythic in the sense that it attempts to get at the essential character of a people – carries strong overtones of an American destiny, but clearly post-colonial and post-imperial. Kotkin believes that simply in following our internal compass and allowing our character to guide crucial choices, our ascendancy during this century will be, if not assured, certainly much more likely and, if we work at it, virtually guaranteed.
Working at it means striking a balance, Kotkin says, between piety toward our "ancient ideals" and openness to future change –in which case "the United States can emerge as a land of unprecedented opportunity: a youthful, evolving nation amid an advanced industrial world beset by old age, bitter ethnic conflicts and erratically functioning economic institutions."
This hopeful prospect hinges upon a momentous "if," because the two factors needing to be balanced are by nature in tension, if not opposition. Having in a sense begun in impiety – revolt against Mother Country – Americans are habitually ready to embrace change at piety's expense.
Notoriously, we find it easy to turn on a dime away from our past, perhaps because it almost never carries immediate consequences. Whether we can achieve the balance Kotkin so easily calls for will depend on our ability to manage another balancing act: between measurable and non-measurable dimensions of education, or between things that matter in terms of material worth and those that matter in terms of moral and spiritual value.
Our natural openness to change is, according to Kotkin, a primary nutrient in the soil of the American character, and for him being open includes embracing not just new technology but the kind of change we are currently experiencing as social and political crisis: what immigrants bring to the full flowering of the American Dream. Kotkin's assertions are, after all, grounded in a demographic forecast, that our population will grow by 100 million during the first half of the century – "demographics as destiny," as he dramatically puts it. Of Scotch-Irish descent and therefore part of a diminishing subset of Americans, I nevertheless found myself easily agreeing with most every point of his pro-immigrant stance.
Whereas "anti-natalists," slow-growth advocates and racial purists would regard continuing immigration as disastrous, Kotkin sees it as our source of ascendancy over the countries most often cited as our potential vanquishers – mainly India, China and the European Union: "Only successful immigration can provide the markets, the manpower and, perhaps most important, the youthful energy to keep western societies vital and growing," he writes. For me this sorts well, if not eloquently, with the Rev. Martin Luther King's image in his "I Have a Dream" speech of the Founders' "promissory note" to which "every
American was to fall heir."
The questions are, where will the next 100 million Americans live, and what will they do in this future epoch that will at once be an extension of the old and an emergence of the new?
Kotkin's answers are consistently provocative and sometimes troubling – especially to those who envision a future of urban renewal and a commensurate shrinking of America's dogged preference since World War II for suburban life. Not so, says Kotkin: "Rather than be forced to cluster in cities, Americans are likely to increasingly opt for communities that blend the single-family housing patterns of suburbia with basic urban amenities."
As a transplanted city dweller from the Deep South, I devoutly prefer urban life and believe in the city-center concept, but Kotkin's scenario doesn't put me off, because it avoids an either-or conclusion. The next 100 million, he says, will be enough for the vitality of both city and suburb. If he's right, and it appears he is, that "we're moving beyond the industrial model, with economic activity diffusing from great population centers," then perhaps we're entering a period when people of varying circumstances can choose not to live in urban areas and still aspire upward as Americans always have.
Until recently, civilizational advances have typically resulted in forced movements toward urban cores. We seem now to have reached a true turning point – when the movement will go back the other way, to the suburbs and beyond, even to the great American Heartland for which Kotkin foresees a dramatic resurgence.
Kotkin's bright estimate of America's potential has great appeal, but there's something beguiling, almost Pied-Piper like, about the neutrality of his predictions. It seems to me traceable to his use of the word sokojikara to define that deeply imbedded, almost mythic quality of the American character. My reservations have to do with two issues he minimizes or leaves out of his equation: education and beauty.
The first, education, is prominent among our national concerns, yet it is almost always discussed or debated only in terms of work-force skills and measurable knowledge. True, these are vitally connected to our national destiny on a material level. But tunnel-visioned as we are with high-stakes testing, we rarely contemplate the importance of a whole curriculum in ensuring our vital future in a changing, threatening world.
Like Kotkin, we seem to assume that matters of character and ideals – the very things that define sokojikara – will take care of themselves, that they are self-renewing and that as long as we remain politically correct, both our native-born and immigrant youth will somehow acquire the values, the moral habituation, that will keep us strong in heart and soul. At best, this is placing a lot of faith in the permanence of American Identity; at worst, it is risking the continued existence of America itself.
The other issue conspicuous by its absence from Kotkin's account is beauty, which has everything to do with education. Beauty is a forbidden subject today, especially in academe, yet the core of our education ought to focus precisely on beautiful things, which certainly include cities and suburbs.
Beauty matters in innumerable and often unmeasurable ways. According to the ancient Greeks, true education involves learning about what is good – the good thought, the good judgment, the good action – and what is good is necessarily beautiful. The Greeks in fact had one word – kaloskagathos – that coalesced the two into an inseparable meaning. Kotkin implies that there are no real distinctions to be made in terms of beauty – no beautiful cities or suburbs; only those that succeed, that is, those we prefer.
Kotkin's omissions don't invalidate his vision of America in 2050. In fact, there is room in his copious forecast for educating future Americans in what is both good and beautiful. Moreover, I would say that such an education is necessary if we are to be, as he predicts, "a beacon and a model," a new version of the City on the Hill of old – "exceptional in everything from culture and science to agriculture and politics."
Dr. Larry Allums is director of the Dallas Institute for Humanities and Culture. His e-mail address is lallums@dallasinstitute.org.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Judgement
In lieu of posting my personal, "poor me" Consortium piece that I composed for the topic, "judgement," I've decided to share this apt op ed instead:
My Take: Christian politicians should start acting Christian
Editor's Note: Richard T. Hughes is Distinguished Professor of Religion at Messiah College and author of Christian America and the Kingdom of God.
By Richard T. Hughes, Special to CNN
Let me be frank from the outset: A great cultural divide is ripping the heart from this nation and Christians are partly responsible.
I say that because 83% of the American people claim to be Christians. If those Christians lived as they are taught to live by the teacher they claim to follow, the American public square would be a very different kind of place.
If one reads the New Testament—the charter for the Christian religion—one can discover rather quickly what that tradition is all about.
Jesus tells his followers to tell the truth.
Jesus tells his followers to make peace.
Jesus tells his followers to turn the other cheek.
Jesus tells his followers to bless those who persecute them and pray for those who misuse them.
Jesus tells his followers to extend justice, especially to the poor and the dispossessed.
Jesus tells his followers to serve as bridge-builders and agents of reconciliation.
And Jesus tells his followers to love one another, even their enemies.
But based on their words and behavior, we may safely conclude that many of the Christians who dominate America’s public square routinely reject the teachings of Jesus, in spite of their claims to the contrary.
Sharron Angle, for example, wants to be the next U. S. Senator from Nevada. She founded a Christian school but casually announces that “the nation is arming” since “if we don’t win at the ballot box, what will be the next step?” For Angle, that next step is clear: those who oppose the current administration may “have to fight for their liberty in more Second Amendment kinds of ways.” In other words, if the ballot fails, the bullet is the next best hope.
Sarah Palin is open about her allegiance to the Christian faith, but routinely trades in sarcasm, deceptions and lies about her political opposition. During the health care debate, she repeated over and again the falsehood that “the sick, the elderly, and the disabled . . . will have to stand in front of Obama’s ‘death panel’ so his bureaucrats can decide . . . whether they are worthy of health care.”
Newt Gingrich trumpets his allegiance to the Christian religion and writes about the role of the Christian faith in American history. He also knows that Barack Obama is a Christian. Yet he shamelessly denounces Obama as “secular”—a term Gingrich defines as an “outlook [that] does not acknowledge God.”
No wonder that some Tea Partiers claim—as one woman put it—that “we are losing our country; we think the Muslims are moving in and taking over; we do not believe our president is a Christian.”
Glenn Beck warned a national television audience to “look for the words ‘social justice’ or ‘economic justice’ on your church Web site. If you find it, run as fast as you can,” adding that those terms are code words for communism and nazism. Surely Beck knows that there is no theme more central to biblical faith than social and economic justice for the poor, but still he is willing to distort the Christian religion for cheap political gain.
Ann Coulter promotes herself as a representative of the Christian religion. Yet, Coulter claimed after September 11, 2001 that the United States “should invade their countries [Muslim nations], kill their leaders and convert them to Christianity.”
When public figures like these so completely diminish the Christian faith, it is hardly surprising that grassroots believers often engage in similar distortions of the Christian religion.
Some Christians at anti-Obama rallies have displayed signs that proclaim, “Since 1630: Bible hugging! Gun toting! Red Blooded American Against Tyranny.” Or another: “I will keep my freedom, my Bible, my gun, and my money.”
When Christians so widely and publicly embrace such blatant distortions of the Christian religion, they abandon one of the roles they might have played in America’s public square: fostering civility and dialogue and building lasting bridges of reconciliation.
But civility and respect have been all but lost in contemporary American politics. Alan Keyes, for example, has proclaimed that “Obama is a radical communist.” And one of the signs that routinely appears at anti-Obama rallies shows the President wearing a Nazi uniform and doing a Hitler salute. Another sign reads, “Barack Hussein Obama: the New Face of Hitler.” Those kinds of accusations are nothing short of slander.
The issue I am raising has nothing to do with whether one is a Republican, a Democrat, a Tea Partier, or an independent. Neither political conservatives nor political liberals have a monopoly on this kind of behavior, though in recent months conservatives opposed to Barack Obama have been especially guilty.
Yet the issue I am raising ultimately has nothing to do with whether one likes or dislikes Barack Obama. The issue has to do with Christians behaving like Christians and thereby telling the truth, doing justice, and promoting basic respect for other human beings.
After all, since 83% of the American population identifies with the Christian religion, that 83% could make an enormous difference in the tone of American politics if those Christians actually practiced what they profess to believe. They could also make a positive difference in American politics if they held other Christians accountable when they engage in deception and slander in order to score political points.
America’s churches and their pastors therefore have a grave responsibility: to urge their members to serve the public square as peacemakers, as truth-tellers, as people devoted to justice, and as men and women who are actually willing to practice what Jesus taught. If America’s churches refuse to take up this task—which, after all, is a task that is central to the Christian calling—the consequences for our country could be dire, indeed.
(Thanks to my friend (and minister-to-be), Evie for bringing this to my attention.)
My Take: Christian politicians should start acting Christian
Editor's Note: Richard T. Hughes is Distinguished Professor of Religion at Messiah College and author of Christian America and the Kingdom of God.
By Richard T. Hughes, Special to CNN
Let me be frank from the outset: A great cultural divide is ripping the heart from this nation and Christians are partly responsible.
I say that because 83% of the American people claim to be Christians. If those Christians lived as they are taught to live by the teacher they claim to follow, the American public square would be a very different kind of place.
If one reads the New Testament—the charter for the Christian religion—one can discover rather quickly what that tradition is all about.
Jesus tells his followers to tell the truth.
Jesus tells his followers to make peace.
Jesus tells his followers to turn the other cheek.
Jesus tells his followers to bless those who persecute them and pray for those who misuse them.
Jesus tells his followers to extend justice, especially to the poor and the dispossessed.
Jesus tells his followers to serve as bridge-builders and agents of reconciliation.
And Jesus tells his followers to love one another, even their enemies.
But based on their words and behavior, we may safely conclude that many of the Christians who dominate America’s public square routinely reject the teachings of Jesus, in spite of their claims to the contrary.
Sharron Angle, for example, wants to be the next U. S. Senator from Nevada. She founded a Christian school but casually announces that “the nation is arming” since “if we don’t win at the ballot box, what will be the next step?” For Angle, that next step is clear: those who oppose the current administration may “have to fight for their liberty in more Second Amendment kinds of ways.” In other words, if the ballot fails, the bullet is the next best hope.
Sarah Palin is open about her allegiance to the Christian faith, but routinely trades in sarcasm, deceptions and lies about her political opposition. During the health care debate, she repeated over and again the falsehood that “the sick, the elderly, and the disabled . . . will have to stand in front of Obama’s ‘death panel’ so his bureaucrats can decide . . . whether they are worthy of health care.”
Newt Gingrich trumpets his allegiance to the Christian religion and writes about the role of the Christian faith in American history. He also knows that Barack Obama is a Christian. Yet he shamelessly denounces Obama as “secular”—a term Gingrich defines as an “outlook [that] does not acknowledge God.”
No wonder that some Tea Partiers claim—as one woman put it—that “we are losing our country; we think the Muslims are moving in and taking over; we do not believe our president is a Christian.”
Glenn Beck warned a national television audience to “look for the words ‘social justice’ or ‘economic justice’ on your church Web site. If you find it, run as fast as you can,” adding that those terms are code words for communism and nazism. Surely Beck knows that there is no theme more central to biblical faith than social and economic justice for the poor, but still he is willing to distort the Christian religion for cheap political gain.
Ann Coulter promotes herself as a representative of the Christian religion. Yet, Coulter claimed after September 11, 2001 that the United States “should invade their countries [Muslim nations], kill their leaders and convert them to Christianity.”
When public figures like these so completely diminish the Christian faith, it is hardly surprising that grassroots believers often engage in similar distortions of the Christian religion.
Some Christians at anti-Obama rallies have displayed signs that proclaim, “Since 1630: Bible hugging! Gun toting! Red Blooded American Against Tyranny.” Or another: “I will keep my freedom, my Bible, my gun, and my money.”
When Christians so widely and publicly embrace such blatant distortions of the Christian religion, they abandon one of the roles they might have played in America’s public square: fostering civility and dialogue and building lasting bridges of reconciliation.
But civility and respect have been all but lost in contemporary American politics. Alan Keyes, for example, has proclaimed that “Obama is a radical communist.” And one of the signs that routinely appears at anti-Obama rallies shows the President wearing a Nazi uniform and doing a Hitler salute. Another sign reads, “Barack Hussein Obama: the New Face of Hitler.” Those kinds of accusations are nothing short of slander.
The issue I am raising has nothing to do with whether one is a Republican, a Democrat, a Tea Partier, or an independent. Neither political conservatives nor political liberals have a monopoly on this kind of behavior, though in recent months conservatives opposed to Barack Obama have been especially guilty.
Yet the issue I am raising ultimately has nothing to do with whether one likes or dislikes Barack Obama. The issue has to do with Christians behaving like Christians and thereby telling the truth, doing justice, and promoting basic respect for other human beings.
After all, since 83% of the American population identifies with the Christian religion, that 83% could make an enormous difference in the tone of American politics if those Christians actually practiced what they profess to believe. They could also make a positive difference in American politics if they held other Christians accountable when they engage in deception and slander in order to score political points.
America’s churches and their pastors therefore have a grave responsibility: to urge their members to serve the public square as peacemakers, as truth-tellers, as people devoted to justice, and as men and women who are actually willing to practice what Jesus taught. If America’s churches refuse to take up this task—which, after all, is a task that is central to the Christian calling—the consequences for our country could be dire, indeed.
(Thanks to my friend (and minister-to-be), Evie for bringing this to my attention.)
Friday, May 28, 2010
Voices I (hope to always) Recall
I'm going to miss my International Baccalaureate class dearly. They are graduating seniors and are off to college next year. This week ends our two year journey together, and I am incredibly humbled by their gratitude and appreciation. I love them. A lot.
As a concluding assignment, I asked my kids to write "This I Believe" essays (in the same form as NPR's 1950's program) - Christine's brilliant (as usual) idea. All of the essays are special - inspirational and personal - because they define what's important to the kids right here, right now. One of my kids, Lauren, wrote a particularly insightful essay about the importance of internationalism, especially regarding education. Her words are poignant and universal. Please enjoy this incredible wisdom from an 18 year old kid:
When I started high school, I was basically a loser. I wanted to get in and out as soon as possible, putting in the minimum effort. I didn't think I had much to learn. I could read and write and I knew what I thought about, well, everything. I knew what was right and what was wrong and what needed to change in the world. I still have a moral code. I know what needs to change. But everything else is different.
I started in International Baccalaureate (IB) flat-out disagreeing with a lot of people in it. With their ideologies, political views, study habits even. I also started out wanting to get my diploma basically to prove that I could. I still thought I knew everything, and after two years of the same ole, I figured I needed to do something challenging before I died of apathy.
And now? I still disagree with a lot of people about a lot of things, but my beliefs - and how I view theirs - have altered drastically.
This I believe - if we are to achieve world peace, we must first seek world education. Universal teaching, not necessarily of the same curriculum, but of the same ideal: that people must learn how to think. They must learn to think for themselves, and they must learn to question those thoughts. Every culture in the world gives their children a different beginning. Every country, every village, every family. Each child begins with a foundation, but to question it, examine it.. And to be willing to change it.. How we know what we know?- Theory of Knowledge (TOK) asks. And that's the most important question anyone will ever be posed.
I don't care if every kid learns Mandarin because that's not really the universal language, is it? There will always be translators of words. The hardest thing is to translate thoughts. Beliefs. How do other people think? Where are they coming from? Where are they standing? A lot of wars have been fought over that kind of translation.
I started out headstrong, and I ended up in love with diversity. I'm pretty much a firm believer in learning through experience. I feel like if every student spent two years in class next to a girl as lovely and compassionate as my friend, Yassmin, there would be fewer idiots in the hallways telling jokes at her expense. I believe that if one in a hundred classes could include the incredible variety of human thought that each and every one of ours does - this is what we do where I'm from; this is what my religion says; this is how we think differently, and the same - there would be a lot fewer hate crimes and stupid remarks and just horrible ignorance in general. There are kids in this country, state, and city who barely even see people of a different ethnicity on a daily basis. How on earth are we supposed to be a global community if we don't even get what our neighbors are saying?
I really didn't care when I began this programme. And then it started to sink in: what IB means, and through that, what education means. And I started to care. I know other apathetic students could, too. I believe that if everyone had to go through this - essentially write a college-level thesis in high school, have discussions in every class, research and study with every resource available like their lives depended on it - they would love learning, or at least take a little pride in their educations. I believe that no one would ever fault their child for wanting a college degree, or two, or four, nor would they confuse academia with elitism.
So, yes, I believe in IB. Me, my classmates, my teachers - we could really change the world because whether we realize it or not, we know what to do. I believe in education and yes, even TOK. I believe in myself, and I believe in all of the future CEO's and presidents, and diplomats I share math class with.
This I believe.
This post was inspired by the Loose Bloggers Consortium, a small and feisty(!) global community. We write weekly on a common topic (Voices I Recall, this week) and post responses - all of us together, simultaneously, from all over the world. (Lovely!) Please visit Anu, Ashok, Conrad, gaelikaa, Grannymar, Judy, Magpie 11, Maria and Ramana for other wonderful posts.
As a concluding assignment, I asked my kids to write "This I Believe" essays (in the same form as NPR's 1950's program) - Christine's brilliant (as usual) idea. All of the essays are special - inspirational and personal - because they define what's important to the kids right here, right now. One of my kids, Lauren, wrote a particularly insightful essay about the importance of internationalism, especially regarding education. Her words are poignant and universal. Please enjoy this incredible wisdom from an 18 year old kid:
When I started high school, I was basically a loser. I wanted to get in and out as soon as possible, putting in the minimum effort. I didn't think I had much to learn. I could read and write and I knew what I thought about, well, everything. I knew what was right and what was wrong and what needed to change in the world. I still have a moral code. I know what needs to change. But everything else is different.
I started in International Baccalaureate (IB) flat-out disagreeing with a lot of people in it. With their ideologies, political views, study habits even. I also started out wanting to get my diploma basically to prove that I could. I still thought I knew everything, and after two years of the same ole, I figured I needed to do something challenging before I died of apathy.
And now? I still disagree with a lot of people about a lot of things, but my beliefs - and how I view theirs - have altered drastically.
This I believe - if we are to achieve world peace, we must first seek world education. Universal teaching, not necessarily of the same curriculum, but of the same ideal: that people must learn how to think. They must learn to think for themselves, and they must learn to question those thoughts. Every culture in the world gives their children a different beginning. Every country, every village, every family. Each child begins with a foundation, but to question it, examine it.. And to be willing to change it.. How we know what we know?- Theory of Knowledge (TOK) asks. And that's the most important question anyone will ever be posed.
I don't care if every kid learns Mandarin because that's not really the universal language, is it? There will always be translators of words. The hardest thing is to translate thoughts. Beliefs. How do other people think? Where are they coming from? Where are they standing? A lot of wars have been fought over that kind of translation.
I started out headstrong, and I ended up in love with diversity. I'm pretty much a firm believer in learning through experience. I feel like if every student spent two years in class next to a girl as lovely and compassionate as my friend, Yassmin, there would be fewer idiots in the hallways telling jokes at her expense. I believe that if one in a hundred classes could include the incredible variety of human thought that each and every one of ours does - this is what we do where I'm from; this is what my religion says; this is how we think differently, and the same - there would be a lot fewer hate crimes and stupid remarks and just horrible ignorance in general. There are kids in this country, state, and city who barely even see people of a different ethnicity on a daily basis. How on earth are we supposed to be a global community if we don't even get what our neighbors are saying?
I really didn't care when I began this programme. And then it started to sink in: what IB means, and through that, what education means. And I started to care. I know other apathetic students could, too. I believe that if everyone had to go through this - essentially write a college-level thesis in high school, have discussions in every class, research and study with every resource available like their lives depended on it - they would love learning, or at least take a little pride in their educations. I believe that no one would ever fault their child for wanting a college degree, or two, or four, nor would they confuse academia with elitism.
So, yes, I believe in IB. Me, my classmates, my teachers - we could really change the world because whether we realize it or not, we know what to do. I believe in education and yes, even TOK. I believe in myself, and I believe in all of the future CEO's and presidents, and diplomats I share math class with.
This I believe.
This post was inspired by the Loose Bloggers Consortium, a small and feisty(!) global community. We write weekly on a common topic (Voices I Recall, this week) and post responses - all of us together, simultaneously, from all over the world. (Lovely!) Please visit Anu, Ashok, Conrad, gaelikaa, Grannymar, Judy, Magpie 11, Maria and Ramana for other wonderful posts.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Women International - March 8th
Dear Friends,
A hundred years ago, a group of women got together and decided we needed a day to celebrate women globally, regardless of our marital status, our ability or inability to have children, regardless of who we are in age, color, or where we come from. In countries like Bosnia and Herzegovina, every man and boy gives a flower to each woman and girl on International Women’s Day.
We all have envisioned a day where women will speak out and speak up, to break their silence and demand peace, justice, and more equality in this world. A hundred years have gone by and women have accomplished a lot in legal protection, political and economic representation, education, and so many other areas. But the road to full equality for women is still long, and our vision of justice and sustainable, full peace in our lives has yet to come.
On behalf of our sisters who are meeting on March 8 in Rwanda and the DR Congo, our sisters who are meeting in Bosnia and Kosovo, our sisters who are meeting in London and Sydney, and our sisters in over 50 cities, I am asking all of you to join me, Women for Women International, and women around the world on a bridge on that day. I ask that we, women from all over, consciously take the time out of the working day and our personal life to celebrate International Women’s Day.
It is a time where we will join the drumming beats of drummers, our own drums, and our own heartbeats. A time where we can march, tie our fabrics together, celebrate who we are and what we have given to our families and societies, and more than that, demand an immediate peace and an end to all the wars that are going on in our lifetime and are destroying many lives.
Women need to stand and speak up because:
* 80% of the women in Bosnia and Herzegovina are unemployed when they enroll in our program
* 75% of war casualties are women and children
* Women produce 50% of the world’s food and only own 1% of the property
* 82% of the women in our Afghanistan program are illiterate
* 70% of the women in our DR Congo program have had their village attacked
These statistics show women are disproportionally marginalized in the world. It is time to change that. It is time to speak out. It is time to break our silence. It is time to demand peace and justice. It is time to join on the bridge.
Please join us. I know I will be at the Brooklyn Bridge at 12:00 pm on March 8th. Bring your drums. Bring your fabric. Bring your dreams.
Let us make that day a day the time to celebrate our womanhood, our voices, our contribution to society.
For more information on all of the bridge meetings around the world, please visit www.womenforwomen.org/bridge.
In sisterhood,
Zainab Salbi
Founder and CEOWomen for Women International
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Thursday, December 3, 2009
American Gods
Christine introduced me to this book yesterday. More than wanting to read the book, I think the idea is interesting - that the God(s) of yore, whatever name you give him, can't survive in America for all of the demi-gods - money, Internet, reality TV shows, talking heads, patriotism, etc. - that distract us. I'm not feeling especially spiritual at the moment, but I can say that I understand the lightning speed chaos that stems from worshipping such idols. The intriguing thing is we don't even know we're doing it. In some cases, we've snowed ourselves into believing that we can be faithful in the midst of such distractions, and feel, dare I use the word, "righteous" in our justifications that are rooted in distraction.
From Publishers Weekly
Titans clash, but with more fuss than fury in this fantasy demi-epic from the author of Neverwhere. The intriguing premise of Gaiman's tale is that the gods of European yore, who came to North America with their immigrant believers, are squaring off for a rumble with new indigenous deities: "gods of credit card and freeway, of Internet and telephone, of radio and hospital and television, gods of plastic and of beeper and of neon." They all walk around in mufti, disguised as ordinary people, which causes no end of trouble for 32-year-old protagonist Shadow Moon, who can't turn around without bumping into a minor divinity. Released from prison the day after his beloved wife dies in a car accident, Shadow takes a job as emissary for Mr. Wednesday, avatar of the Norse god Grimnir, unaware that his boss's recruiting trip across the American heartland will subject him to repeat visits from the reanimated corpse of his dead wife and brutal roughing up by the goons of Wednesday's adversary, Mr. World. At last Shadow must reevaluate his own deeply held beliefs in order to determine his crucial role in the final showdown. Gaiman tries to keep the magical and the mundane evenly balanced, but he is clearly more interested in the activities of his human protagonists: Shadow's poignant personal moments and the tale's affectionate slices of smalltown life are much better developed than the aimless plot, which bounces Shadow from one episodic encounter to another in a design only the gods seem to know. Mere mortal readers will enjoy the tale's wit, but puzzle over its strained mythopoeia.
I don't mean to bash faith or religion, or secularization for that matter. I, for one, can't be on any high horse crusade when it comes to spirituality. No one can be, actually (and ironically).
A few years ago, I audited a class that proposed that the reason people/nations war is because they are afraid of losing their cultural identities, that clinging to one's norms in acts of desperation precipitates violence. This makes me think about our country, the "most powerful nation in the world," and what exactly our "norms" are. Are we being clingy? And if so, for what purpose? And do we really want to protect our brand of godliness?
From Publishers Weekly
Titans clash, but with more fuss than fury in this fantasy demi-epic from the author of Neverwhere. The intr
iguing premise of Gaiman's tale is that the gods of European yore, who came to North America with their immigrant believers, are squaring off for a rumble with new indigenous deities: "gods of credit card and freeway, of Internet and telephone, of radio and hospital and television, gods of plastic and of beeper and of neon." They all walk around in mufti, disguised as ordinary people, which causes no end of trouble for 32-year-old protagonist Shadow Moon, who can't turn around without bumping into a minor divinity. Released from prison the day after his beloved wife dies in a car accident, Shadow takes a job as emissary for Mr. Wednesday, avatar of the Norse god Grimnir, unaware that his boss's recruiting trip across the American heartland will subject him to repeat visits from the reanimated corpse of his dead wife and brutal roughing up by the goons of Wednesday's adversary, Mr. World. At last Shadow must reevaluate his own deeply held beliefs in order to determine his crucial role in the final showdown. Gaiman tries to keep the magical and the mundane evenly balanced, but he is clearly more interested in the activities of his human protagonists: Shadow's poignant personal moments and the tale's affectionate slices of smalltown life are much better developed than the aimless plot, which bounces Shadow from one episodic encounter to another in a design only the gods seem to know. Mere mortal readers will enjoy the tale's wit, but puzzle over its strained mythopoeia. I don't mean to bash faith or religion, or secularization for that matter. I, for one, can't be on any high horse crusade when it comes to spirituality. No one can be, actually (and ironically).
A few years ago, I audited a class that proposed that the reason people/nations war is because they are afraid of losing their cultural identities, that clinging to one's norms in acts of desperation precipitates violence. This makes me think about our country, the "most powerful nation in the world," and what exactly our "norms" are. Are we being clingy? And if so, for what purpose? And do we really want to protect our brand of godliness?
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
The Advent Conspiracy
The story of Christ's birth is a subversive story of an upside-down kingdom. It's a story of promise, hope, and a revolutionary love that is still changing the world to this day. So, what happened? What was once a time to celebrate the birth of a savior has somehow turned into a season of stress, traffic jams, and shopping lists. And when it's all over, many of us are left with presents to return, looming debt that will take months to pay off, and this empty feeling that we somehow missed its purpose.
Is this what we really want out of Christmas?
What if Christmas became a world-changing event again by turning our focus back to the birth of Christ? What could happen to your family if this focus was celebrated in loud, bold and totally unexpected ways? What if you could actually trade your season of stress for a season celebration and unbelievable memories with your friends and family? What if all of this could save a life at the same time? It can.
Welcome to Advent Conspiracy
Learn more at www.adventconspiracy.org
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Worrisome
on Predator Drone Missle Attacks, in our own words:Anticapatory self-defense,
"Virtuless killing"
Cubicle warriors
"Squirters" (the targeted people who run for cover as seen on a computer screen)
Rubble and charred stuff
Extrajudicial killings
"The only game in town"
worryingly seductive war, perceived as "costless"
[not] an honorable way of combat
* all phrases are from "The Predator War: What are the risks of the CIS's covert drone program?" by Jane Mayer. The New Yorker Magazine. October 26, 2009.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
For Your Information Age
I can see how data and information can be seen as something that can cause the collapse of civilization, lest we forget what happened in Eden, the fruit that was consumed. But also, we've always had to sieve through the information we've been given, and now we have to be much more adept at doing so than ever before. I would assert that the problem is not that society is becoming lazy in their thinking. We're always looking for loopholes to not have to physically work as hard (a problem in itself, as Gandhi pointed out), but in the looking we're exercising the mind. (And, as it happens, a mind at rest is working just as hard, if not harder, than a mind at work because it has to compensate for the inactivity.) So, the problem is not in too much information. The problem is that we have to sift faster than we can manage.
If there is to be Renaissance, then it may be in allowing data to be data, for what it's worth and in recognizing that, like tools, data can be helpful but there should always be a respect for the rudiments - the things that are foundational to everything else: loving, thinking, believing, creating, empathizing, growing gardens, etc.
Civilization cannot end until there is an overwhelming absence of the rudiments. And if only one person recognizes the value in the rudiments, another cannot help but reciprocate - it's human nature.
I still believe that the world is good - data or no, materialism and greed included - because we are horrified by the bad things, and most of us still work at caring for each other, even in the West.
Please, activist friends, remember that people are good.
If there is to be Renaissance, then it may be in allowing data to be data, for what it's worth and in recognizing that, like tools, data can be helpful but there should always be a respect for the rudiments - the things that are foundational to everything else: loving, thinking, believing, creating, empathizing, growing gardens, etc.
Civilization cannot end until there is an overwhelming absence of the rudiments. And if only one person recognizes the value in the rudiments, another cannot help but reciprocate - it's human nature.
I still believe that the world is good - data or no, materialism and greed included - because we are horrified by the bad things, and most of us still work at caring for each other, even in the West.
Please, activist friends, remember that people are good.
Monday, October 26, 2009
You've Been Hit By a Smooth Criminal.
Apparently I am a criminal.
That's how I'm being treated, anyway. My school informed me that the Feds are fingerprinting all teachers, and my turn is tomorrow. Why is this happening, you ask? Well the answer, I think, is very simple. It's that.. (covering mouth as I mumble something incoherent) .. WHO THE HELL KNOWS? As far as I can guess, they are doing a thorough background check on each of the teachers in this country to make sure we aren't pedos or arsonists or borders crossers or something horrifying. I mean you can never tell, right? I have shifty eyes, after all..
So, of course, I immediately protested the idea. I asked questions like, "Why is the current background check not enough?" and, "What percentage of teachers are actually criminals?" and, "If there are so many shady teachers, then who the hell is doing the hiring?" followed by, "Isn't this a statement about society - that they think all teachers are criminals?" and finally, "What happens if I refuse to give up my digits?"
Only one answer was given and only to the last question. The answer was, "Your teaching certificate - the one that you earned, the one that says, "Sure I'll keep getting punched in the gut for a thankless job that no one wants unless they want to do something wussy like help society"; the one that, apparently, is very accessible to pedos - that certificate will be suspended indefinitely."
My next question was (and is) "How is this not against my fundamental rights - that you can fire me because I refuse to be fingerprinted like a criminal?" No. Answer. Just a reminder about what will happen if I don't comply. Did I mention that they're making us pay for it, too? Fortunately (and I'm saying this in the same way a person might smile as he's pouring salt into his own wound), our state is paying for our share..
Fine. So, I'm being fingerprinted tomorrow at 1:50 pm which will be a difficult task for the print taker seeing as my hands have been tied behind my back. I'll be handing a random person a form with my social security number, my drivers licence number, my birth date, my maiden name, my height and weight. Hope they don't lose it in the parking lot on the way to wherever they're going, seeing as pretty much anyone can now steal my identity at the cost of a small gust of wind, or a poorly organized clerk, or another shifty-eyed fellow.
If that weren't bad enough, I also had to declare my ethnicity on a different form, for another "information" gathering agency. This was also mandatory. I clicked the box that said, "Other." Or maybe it said, "Why does that matter/How does that effect my teaching ability?" Actually the box, according to me, said, "It's really none of your business". The drop down menu under that option gently explained that "they" will physically come and check if I choose not to declare. Fine. Again. But I'm not going to make it easy.
That's how I'm being treated, anyway. My school informed me that the Feds are fingerprinting all teachers, and my turn is tomorrow. Why is this happening, you ask? Well the answer, I think, is very simple. It's that.. (covering mouth as I mumble something incoherent) .. WHO THE HELL KNOWS? As far as I can guess, they are doing a thorough background check on each of the teachers in this country to make sure we aren't pedos or arsonists or borders crossers or something horrifying. I mean you can never tell, right? I have shifty eyes, after all..
So, of course, I immediately protested the idea. I asked questions like, "Why is the current background check not enough?" and, "What percentage of teachers are actually criminals?" and, "If there are so many shady teachers, then who the hell is doing the hiring?" followed by, "Isn't this a statement about society - that they think all teachers are criminals?" and finally, "What happens if I refuse to give up my digits?"
Only one answer was given and only to the last question. The answer was, "Your teaching certificate - the one that you earned, the one that says, "Sure I'll keep getting punched in the gut for a thankless job that no one wants unless they want to do something wussy like help society"; the one that, apparently, is very accessible to pedos - that certificate will be suspended indefinitely."
My next question was (and is) "How is this not against my fundamental rights - that you can fire me because I refuse to be fingerprinted like a criminal?" No. Answer. Just a reminder about what will happen if I don't comply. Did I mention that they're making us pay for it, too? Fortunately (and I'm saying this in the same way a person might smile as he's pouring salt into his own wound), our state is paying for our share..
Fine. So, I'm being fingerprinted tomorrow at 1:50 pm which will be a difficult task for the print taker seeing as my hands have been tied behind my back. I'll be handing a random person a form with my social security number, my drivers licence number, my birth date, my maiden name, my height and weight. Hope they don't lose it in the parking lot on the way to wherever they're going, seeing as pretty much anyone can now steal my identity at the cost of a small gust of wind, or a poorly organized clerk, or another shifty-eyed fellow.
If that weren't bad enough, I also had to declare my ethnicity on a different form, for another "information" gathering agency. This was also mandatory. I clicked the box that said, "Other." Or maybe it said, "Why does that matter/How does that effect my teaching ability?" Actually the box, according to me, said, "It's really none of your business". The drop down menu under that option gently explained that "they" will physically come and check if I choose not to declare. Fine. Again. But I'm not going to make it easy.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Musless Opinionator Reeks
So here are some things to say:
1. I'm studying MLK with my kids at school. And I love him. A lot. There are lots of "universalism's" I would love to share except that I fear that when/if I do, those ideas will be ever so politely shat upon, and yes, one can "shat" politely. Southerners are excellent at it, bless our hearts. So, instead of writing a rant I'll simply say:
*There is no excuse for violence, in word or deed. (And I would argue that words are more violent than bombs, especially reactionary, ignorant (as in without knowledge) ones.)
*There is a universal moral code and it has nothing to do with politic, race, or religion.
*People (including me) need to be more involved in standing up for people who can't or who have no voice.
*I found that I could substitute the word "impoverished" for the word "Negro" in many of King's writings and his message would be even more apt these days, though the minority message is still important.
2. I've been reading a lot: The Book Thief, Ethan Frome, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, and now Perfume. The Unbearable Lightness of Being stunned me. My brain can't move forward after reading that book for some reason which may be why I've been at a blog loss. The Book Thief is excellent.. until the very last line. It ruined the book for me. Ethan Frome was interesting in the "longing aspect". Stephanie Meyer is also excellent at teasing the reader with unconsummated relationships. But killing oneself by sledding into a tree? COME. ON. There are better ways, Edith Wharton. There are better ways. Perfume is interesting. I was not at all concerned about the movie, so we'll see if the book stands up. I suppose reading MLK makes everything else seem petty..
3. Rush Limbaugh used to be the devil. Now the devil is Glenn Beck. It's weird how quickly the devil can change forms.
4. Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize. Some are upset by that and/or say he doesn't deserve it. I think we (me included) don't realize how much America (and I mean Americans, not just politicians) has hurt other nations. We're just now realizing how absolutely shitty we've been. Actually, I hope we are beginning to realize how absolutely shitty we've been and I hope we can recover from it..
5. I love U2. Jerry Jones made a stadium (at the expense of too many families who were displaced) that made the greatest band in the world sound bad. That mixed with the fact that those around me asked me to sit down for the show, made it the worst U2 show I've seen. I didn't realize that the etiquette for attending a ROCK show was akin to being pew-bound in the Baptist Church, tapping your toes, listening to the feature vocalist sing, enjoying the music and then wondering whether or not it is appropriate to clap for fear that God , or worse, the congregation, would judge you for being too enthusiastic. Being true to form, I stood the whole time.. in stiletto heels.. just to make a point. Still, the worst U2 concert is better than the best any-other-show I've ever attended.
And on and on and on.
1. I'm studying MLK with my kids at school. And I love him. A lot. There are lots of "universalism's" I would love to share except that I fear that when/if I do, those ideas will be ever so politely shat upon, and yes, one can "shat" politely. Southerners are excellent at it, bless our hearts. So, instead of writing a rant I'll simply say:
*There is no excuse for violence, in word or deed. (And I would argue that words are more violent than bombs, especially reactionary, ignorant (as in without knowledge) ones.)
*There is a universal moral code and it has nothing to do with politic, race, or religion.
*People (including me) need to be more involved in standing up for people who can't or who have no voice.
*I found that I could substitute the word "impoverished" for the word "Negro" in many of King's writings and his message would be even more apt these days, though the minority message is still important.
2. I've been reading a lot: The Book Thief, Ethan Frome, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, and now Perfume. The Unbearable Lightness of Being stunned me. My brain can't move forward after reading that book for some reason which may be why I've been at a blog loss. The Book Thief is excellent.. until the very last line. It ruined the book for me. Ethan Frome was interesting in the "longing aspect". Stephanie Meyer is also excellent at teasing the reader with unconsummated relationships. But killing oneself by sledding into a tree? COME. ON. There are better ways, Edith Wharton. There are better ways. Perfume is interesting. I was not at all concerned about the movie, so we'll see if the book stands up. I suppose reading MLK makes everything else seem petty..
3. Rush Limbaugh used to be the devil. Now the devil is Glenn Beck. It's weird how quickly the devil can change forms.
4. Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize. Some are upset by that and/or say he doesn't deserve it. I think we (me included) don't realize how much America (and I mean Americans, not just politicians) has hurt other nations. We're just now realizing how absolutely shitty we've been. Actually, I hope we are beginning to realize how absolutely shitty we've been and I hope we can recover from it..
5. I love U2. Jerry Jones made a stadium (at the expense of too many families who were displaced) that made the greatest band in the world sound bad. That mixed with the fact that those around me asked me to sit down for the show, made it the worst U2 show I've seen. I didn't realize that the etiquette for attending a ROCK show was akin to being pew-bound in the Baptist Church, tapping your toes, listening to the feature vocalist sing, enjoying the music and then wondering whether or not it is appropriate to clap for fear that God , or worse, the congregation, would judge you for being too enthusiastic. Being true to form, I stood the whole time.. in stiletto heels.. just to make a point. Still, the worst U2 concert is better than the best any-other-show I've ever attended.
And on and on and on.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Three Cups of Tea
"In Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace . . . One School at a Time , Greg Mortenson, and journalist David Oliver Relin, recount the journey that led Mortenson from a failed 1993 attempt to climb Pakistan’s K2, the world’s second highest mountain, to successfully establish schools in some of the most remote regions of Afghanistan and Pakistan. By replacing guns with pencils, rhetoric with reading, Mortenson combines his unique background with his intimate knowledge of the third-world to promote peace with books, not bombs, and successfully bring education and hope to remote communities in central Asia. Three Cups of Tea is at once an unforgettable adventure and the inspiring true story of how one man really is changing the world—one school at a time."Greg Mortenson will win a Nobel Peace Prize someday.
I say READ THIS BOOK.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Redefining Education
I wrote the following for a group called Project 2012, a discussion forum of folks who advocate true democracy (and who call for universal human rights) in community form. I'm not sure about how it will be received, or even if it will be, so I'm posting it here. Please pet me in case they don't.. :) Enjoy:
The classroom, like a church, is a sacred place where the teacher, like the minister, has an inviolate commission, not only to be a guide, but to serve. He cannot be a party to the capitalist's idea of prosperity, one that does not equate to abundance. Instead, he has to understand that his investment is one of respect - that the only way to create communitas is to engage in a true learning, a democratic society where all opinions are weighed, where everyone, including the teacher, learns, thus producing profit for all.
Thanks to this list, I allowed myself to think about what ideal education looks like stripped of the confines and/or trappings of government interference: assessments, budgets, rules, and dogma. I looked at Gandhi who spoke in terms of "the village." He spoke about education in relational terms - that the educator is also the student. He believed in educating the whole person and was a proponent of manual labor (and against machinery), insisting that it was faulty to consider that type of work lesser than any other type. I looked at the ideas of the Brazilian philosopher, Paulo Freire, who also promoted education as a relationship - more democratic in the give and take. There are a million philosophies to consider Hegel, Bloom, Rousseau, Marx... Too many.
I decided, instead, to pose the ideal as a question to my colleagues, fellow teachers who have more years of combined experience than they'd like for me to share. I asked them, "What does genuine education look like? Is it possible?"
The thing that all of the responses had in common (though different approaches were offered) was that "kids learn to think." Too often (and to the detriment of society) have we created automatons - robots who can produce the correct answer, but who can't explain how they've arrived there. We have kids who can operate technology, but who don't understand how the technology works. Somehow that's a respect issue.
In the US the modern school system was created to produce factory workers. From there, it has itself become a factory of capitalist production where minimal investment is expected to create a maximum return. Unfortunately, this system is backfiring in a huge way, to the detriment of society.
We have to go back to a place where education is about the exchange, about thinking and experimentation -trial and error and consideration -where getting the wrong answer is ok as long as you learn from the attempt.
I don't know what that kind of school truly looks like, other than it must be divorced of standardized everything. But education is expensive, especially in the investments of time, patience, and money. It also requires a ridiculous amount of trust. I do know that there are many teachers out there who understand this and who attempt to participate in the ideal despite the interference of the state. That's hopeful at least.
The classroom, like a church, is a sacred place where the teacher, like the minister, has an inviolate commission, not only to be a guide, but to serve. He cannot be a party to the capitalist's idea of prosperity, one that does not equate to abundance. Instead, he has to understand that his investment is one of respect - that the only way to create communitas is to engage in a true learning, a democratic society where all opinions are weighed, where everyone, including the teacher, learns, thus producing profit for all.
Thanks to this list, I allowed myself to think about what ideal education looks like stripped of the confines and/or trappings of government interference: assessments, budgets, rules, and dogma. I looked at Gandhi who spoke in terms of "the village." He spoke about education in relational terms - that the educator is also the student. He believed in educating the whole person and was a proponent of manual labor (and against machinery), insisting that it was faulty to consider that type of work lesser than any other type. I looked at the ideas of the Brazilian philosopher, Paulo Freire, who also promoted education as a relationship - more democratic in the give and take. There are a million philosophies to consider Hegel, Bloom, Rousseau, Marx... Too many.
I decided, instead, to pose the ideal as a question to my colleagues, fellow teachers who have more years of combined experience than they'd like for me to share. I asked them, "What does genuine education look like? Is it possible?"
The thing that all of the responses had in common (though different approaches were offered) was that "kids learn to think." Too often (and to the detriment of society) have we created automatons - robots who can produce the correct answer, but who can't explain how they've arrived there. We have kids who can operate technology, but who don't understand how the technology works. Somehow that's a respect issue.
In the US the modern school system was created to produce factory workers. From there, it has itself become a factory of capitalist production where minimal investment is expected to create a maximum return. Unfortunately, this system is backfiring in a huge way, to the detriment of society.
We have to go back to a place where education is about the exchange, about thinking and experimentation -trial and error and consideration -where getting the wrong answer is ok as long as you learn from the attempt.
I don't know what that kind of school truly looks like, other than it must be divorced of standardized everything. But education is expensive, especially in the investments of time, patience, and money. It also requires a ridiculous amount of trust. I do know that there are many teachers out there who understand this and who attempt to participate in the ideal despite the interference of the state. That's hopeful at least.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
People in Common - Democracy in Action
The following gives voice to a lovely message and movement going on in London. Please enjoy this from my friend, Mark:
I think I'll go for a picnic next week end..
I think I'll go for a picnic next week end..
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Beaten
In a world where one can find any "conclusive evidence" to back what she is saying, it is surprisingly difficult to actually form a cohesive argument. What I mean is that people are emotional, reactionary creatures. We have a deep seeded need to be "right" in order to justify our actions, and we'll use any argument to prove ourselves. We are especially good at manipulating emotions by using words such as "God! Justice! Freedom!" and any other store of "evidence" we've gathered from our cultural norms.
Unfortunately, sometimes when we are at our wits end - when we know we're sunk, in over our heads, dead wrong, up shit creek (you get the idea)- the most most moving counter one can come up with is, "Oh yeah?! Well, my dad can beat up your dad!" This is ultimate desperation play, and, by the way, is a total lie for most of us. But she - the opponent - didn't know that.
Lately, I've been fighting a battle. Seriously. I've gone "to the mat." And literally, too - as in, one on one, face to mat. Because my proverbial nose is so smushed in, and I can't breath anything but sweaty, mildewed vinyl mixed with the sulfury smell of my own proverbial blood, I think it's safe to say that I lost. K.O. Game over. Roll credits.
As many of you know, I am sort of a wanna-be activist, though the only "march" or "protest" I've ever participated in was when I found myself blissfully lost in DC, and I accidentally stumbled into a march for Haitian rights. I did stop by the "Stop the War" camp in Parliament Square last time I was in London and shared an umbrella and a chat with some very interesting people who were staying there for a season. (Read more about the company I keep and then tell me I'm pretty)*
I want to be conscientious of issues, even if I am not participating in a march. What I'm learning - and this pertains to the fight - is that it is ridiculous for me - an average person, of average intelligence and height - to assume that I can win an argument against a full fledged activist. I don't have the wherewithal or the gumption. My battle scars aren't deep enough, and my tears are too salty. I also learned a little about cruelty and compassion, that if one can successfully mix the two in just the right amounts, one is assured "victory".
It doesn't matter what the argument was that caused me to be lying limp and broken on this mat, her shadow lording over me. Her win was in her concluding remarks - full of righteous indignance and God and poetry. I mean, who can argue with that? She won. Not because she's smarter than me or right, but because she knows the correct way to argue - the winning rhetorical combination - the right one, two.
It turns out it takes a few good ass kickings to learn how to respond to certain bullies, even ones who claim that "God is on their side". It also turns out I am a very good student.
*I am a member of a list (hardly active on my part,but very active on my friend, Mark's) that advocates true community cohesion and decision making, what they call a Campaign for Real Democracy. My teaching job is quite a platform for activism. The International Baccalaureate Program I teach with promotes international mindedness (not globalization), in an effort to help people embrace cultural differences. "Tolerating" differences implies that a negative judgement has been made. We must do more. Some of my friends in Arizona "break the law" by leaving gallon water jugs in the desert for people who are trying to cross the border and who sometimes die of dehydration in their efforts. (The activists from the Restoration Project were acquitted, by the way. It turns out leaving water in the desert so that people don't die is a difficult case to prosecute morally.)
Unfortunately, sometimes when we are at our wits end - when we know we're sunk, in over our heads, dead wrong, up shit creek (you get the idea)- the most most moving counter one can come up with is, "Oh yeah?! Well, my dad can beat up your dad!" This is ultimate desperation play, and, by the way, is a total lie for most of us. But she - the opponent - didn't know that.
Lately, I've been fighting a battle. Seriously. I've gone "to the mat." And literally, too - as in, one on one, face to mat. Because my proverbial nose is so smushed in, and I can't breath anything but sweaty, mildewed vinyl mixed with the sulfury smell of my own proverbial blood, I think it's safe to say that I lost. K.O. Game over. Roll credits.
As many of you know, I am sort of a wanna-be activist, though the only "march" or "protest" I've ever participated in was when I found myself blissfully lost in DC, and I accidentally stumbled into a march for Haitian rights. I did stop by the "Stop the War" camp in Parliament Square last time I was in London and shared an umbrella and a chat with some very interesting people who were staying there for a season. (Read more about the company I keep and then tell me I'm pretty)*
I want to be conscientious of issues, even if I am not participating in a march. What I'm learning - and this pertains to the fight - is that it is ridiculous for me - an average person, of average intelligence and height - to assume that I can win an argument against a full fledged activist. I don't have the wherewithal or the gumption. My battle scars aren't deep enough, and my tears are too salty. I also learned a little about cruelty and compassion, that if one can successfully mix the two in just the right amounts, one is assured "victory".
It doesn't matter what the argument was that caused me to be lying limp and broken on this mat, her shadow lording over me. Her win was in her concluding remarks - full of righteous indignance and God and poetry. I mean, who can argue with that? She won. Not because she's smarter than me or right, but because she knows the correct way to argue - the winning rhetorical combination - the right one, two.
It turns out it takes a few good ass kickings to learn how to respond to certain bullies, even ones who claim that "God is on their side". It also turns out I am a very good student.
*I am a member of a list (hardly active on my part,but very active on my friend, Mark's) that advocates true community cohesion and decision making, what they call a Campaign for Real Democracy. My teaching job is quite a platform for activism. The International Baccalaureate Program I teach with promotes international mindedness (not globalization), in an effort to help people embrace cultural differences. "Tolerating" differences implies that a negative judgement has been made. We must do more. Some of my friends in Arizona "break the law" by leaving gallon water jugs in the desert for people who are trying to cross the border and who sometimes die of dehydration in their efforts. (The activists from the Restoration Project were acquitted, by the way. It turns out leaving water in the desert so that people don't die is a difficult case to prosecute morally.)
Friday, July 17, 2009
Musings on God and Doughnuts
"What came back to me then was the sign that used to be in the window of the Downyflake Doughnut, at the Sunnyside Amusement Park, in - what was it? - the summer of 1935:
'As you ramble on through life, Brother,
Whatever be your goal,
Keep your eye upon the doughnut,
And not upon the hole'
"A paradox, the doughnut hole. Empty space, once, but now they've learned to market even that. A minus quantity; nothing, rendered edible. I wonder if they might be used - metaphorically, of course - to demonstrate the existence of God. Does naming a sphere of nothingness transmute into being?"
--from The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood
It's scary to think of it, but probably necessary. I wonder what we've done, regarding God. I don't believe we've "named a sphere of nothingness" because God exists in a very real way, but we sure have done some renaming. Somehow in our very human (and immature) drive for superiority - to be the best! - we've managed to make God a commodity, selling our ideas to any takers, hopefully the ones with the most influence.
Too harsh for a Friday morning?
In sincerity, lets go back to the happiness of doughnut holes and morning coffee, then. This post is merely meant to provoke thoughts, not anger.
'As you ramble on through life, Brother,
Whatever be your goal,
Keep your eye upon the doughnut,
And not upon the hole'
"A paradox, the doughnut hole. Empty space, once, but now they've learned to market even that. A minus quantity; nothing, rendered edible. I wonder if they might be used - metaphorically, of course - to demonstrate the existence of God. Does naming a sphere of nothingness transmute into being?"
--from The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood
It's scary to think of it, but probably necessary. I wonder what we've done, regarding God. I don't believe we've "named a sphere of nothingness" because God exists in a very real way, but we sure have done some renaming. Somehow in our very human (and immature) drive for superiority - to be the best! - we've managed to make God a commodity, selling our ideas to any takers, hopefully the ones with the most influence.
Too harsh for a Friday morning?
In sincerity, lets go back to the happiness of doughnut holes and morning coffee, then. This post is merely meant to provoke thoughts, not anger.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Wishful Mantra
a mantra:
The world is good. (Breathe in)
The world is good. (Breathe out)
The world is good. (Breathe in.. Breathe out)
How can the world be good in the midst of all the bad?
Because atrocities are still atrocities.
Because normal folks take care of each other.
Because amidst conflict there is resilience.
Because mothers have to believe it is so,
so that they can justify their motherhoods.
They cuddle their babies close,
and whisper in their ears
"The world is good."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I can't get it out of my head. I knew I shouldn't have watched it. I couldn't resist. Maybe I wanted to feel whatever emotion was gurgling up to the surface. Maybe I wanted to feel political. Maybe I have a fascination with the macabre. Maybe I felt a responsibility to see it.
For whatever reason, I watched the Iranian girl bleed out in that 10 second on-line clip. And then I hit replay. And then I walked away from the computer. I felt like maybe I shouldn't have watched it after all, seeing as death - that death - should've been a private moment. I was embarrassed that I had exploited her very personal death moment, that I was all of a sudden part of the millions who would make her a martyr or a villain.
I don't usually want to watch those sorts of things - war and death and sprawled corpses- in reality. When the news announcer warns about graphic footage, I, as a rule, turn my head with the other children. I can't take it. I can't understand why people are so barbaric. My body literally rejects the reality of violent death.
I have to admit that I do watch CSI and Criminal Minds, shows that are fiction and that market murder and gore. But they are fiction shows. They are not real. But when I watched her die, I couldn't help but think that her death resembled ones I had seen on the fiction shows - the last breath and movement, the blood from the mouth, the nose, and then pooling around her body, the vacant stare, the helpless man desperately trying to stanch the inevitable.
There are actually those who question the validity of the video and suggest that it is a propagandist's attempt at emotional appeal for the Iranian protesters. President Obama referenced it reverently in his press conference, specifically when he addressed how the US would respond to Iran's attempt at democracy and how the protests and the Iranian government's response would "play out." The existence of the video of her death is now political fodder for both sides.
Fine.
But I'm more interested in the humanity (or inhumanity) of it. How do we live with ourselves? What is our responsibility when it comes to injustices? How can we determine what is authentic in a society that fabricates reality - when we can't tell the news from Criminal Minds?
Ignoring it all is the wrong choice. I know that. Dr. King often said that it is more egregious to ignore suffering and not take a side than it is to be on the wrong side. Living our lives pretending that people don't suffer is morally unjust.
I always err on the side of the oppressed.
But what is there to do? Prayer seems like a cop out sometimes, an action that justifies inaction.
What I will do today is acknowledge the humanity of the dead woman and try to respect her death, even though I feel as though I have violated her. Also, even if it is a cop out for not knowing what else to do, I repeat my mantra/prayer and whisper to my one year old, "The world is good. The world, Baby Jack, overall is good."
The world is good. (Breathe in)
The world is good. (Breathe out)
The world is good. (Breathe in.. Breathe out)
How can the world be good in the midst of all the bad?
Because atrocities are still atrocities.
Because normal folks take care of each other.
Because amidst conflict there is resilience.
Because mothers have to believe it is so,
so that they can justify their motherhoods.
They cuddle their babies close,
and whisper in their ears
"The world is good."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I can't get it out of my head. I knew I shouldn't have watched it. I couldn't resist. Maybe I wanted to feel whatever emotion was gurgling up to the surface. Maybe I wanted to feel political. Maybe I have a fascination with the macabre. Maybe I felt a responsibility to see it.
For whatever reason, I watched the Iranian girl bleed out in that 10 second on-line clip. And then I hit replay. And then I walked away from the computer. I felt like maybe I shouldn't have watched it after all, seeing as death - that death - should've been a private moment. I was embarrassed that I had exploited her very personal death moment, that I was all of a sudden part of the millions who would make her a martyr or a villain.
I don't usually want to watch those sorts of things - war and death and sprawled corpses- in reality. When the news announcer warns about graphic footage, I, as a rule, turn my head with the other children. I can't take it. I can't understand why people are so barbaric. My body literally rejects the reality of violent death.
I have to admit that I do watch CSI and Criminal Minds, shows that are fiction and that market murder and gore. But they are fiction shows. They are not real. But when I watched her die, I couldn't help but think that her death resembled ones I had seen on the fiction shows - the last breath and movement, the blood from the mouth, the nose, and then pooling around her body, the vacant stare, the helpless man desperately trying to stanch the inevitable.
There are actually those who question the validity of the video and suggest that it is a propagandist's attempt at emotional appeal for the Iranian protesters. President Obama referenced it reverently in his press conference, specifically when he addressed how the US would respond to Iran's attempt at democracy and how the protests and the Iranian government's response would "play out." The existence of the video of her death is now political fodder for both sides.
Fine.
But I'm more interested in the humanity (or inhumanity) of it. How do we live with ourselves? What is our responsibility when it comes to injustices? How can we determine what is authentic in a society that fabricates reality - when we can't tell the news from Criminal Minds?
Ignoring it all is the wrong choice. I know that. Dr. King often said that it is more egregious to ignore suffering and not take a side than it is to be on the wrong side. Living our lives pretending that people don't suffer is morally unjust.
I always err on the side of the oppressed.
But what is there to do? Prayer seems like a cop out sometimes, an action that justifies inaction.
What I will do today is acknowledge the humanity of the dead woman and try to respect her death, even though I feel as though I have violated her. Also, even if it is a cop out for not knowing what else to do, I repeat my mantra/prayer and whisper to my one year old, "The world is good. The world, Baby Jack, overall is good."
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
With Crime and Punishment For All
Plinky asks, "What activity should be considered a crime? Explain why this behavior should not be tolerated and describe a fitting punishment."
Dante's Inferno, the first part of The Divine Comedy, describes the worst crimes committed by the worst sinners, and then he details the specific punishments for each of those crimes. He says the worst sin/crime known to man is when a person is a traitor to his master. That's why Satan sits in Dante's frozen hell, flapping his six wings to keep the place icy (as should be the place that is absent of light and love), chewing on the likes of Brutus, Cassius, and Judas Iscariot. Dante felt that betrayal was certainly worse than those that our Western society seems to be hung up on - suicide, abortion, murder, and homosexuality**. Though we are likely to nod at several of Dante's suggestions, we have to remember that he was also very political and actually named names when talking about some crimes and punishments - not so Christ-like, I'm afraid.
We obviously must talk about Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment when Plinky suggests that we do. In it, the main character, Raskolnikov, commits a double murder while in a deranged state. His punishment is existence itself. Rather it is living with his own troubled conscience.
For Meursault in The Stranger, the crime again is murder, though really he is tried for apathy - not crying at his mother's funeral; the punishment is that he is "beheaded in the name of the French government" which is not nearly as bad a punishment to him as is being deprived of a cigarette and sex while in jail. Eventually, even those thing are of little consequence. After all, everyone dies eventually, right? Why is execution better or worse than any other death?
For Shakespeare's overexposed couple, Romeo and Juliet, love and naivete make up the crime and the absence of that love is the punishment. Death joins them in the end. In The Tragedy of Macbeth, Macbeth is too ambitious. It's death and delusion for him. Lear favors the wrong daughters and goes insane. Hamlet's crime is revenge, also punishable by all encompassing death - no one, not the criminal nor the innocent, makes it in the end.
In real life, Martin Luther King said that the biggest crime committed in society is inaction. In many speeches and writings he says that folks who turn blind eyes to injustice are the criminals. I suppose his crime was speaking the truth that many were reluctant to hear. His punishment was being forced to leave this world before his dream was realized. Society's punishment was the loss of a very wise man, their crime being apathy.
And on and on and on.
The point of me going over all of this is to say my answer is I don't know. Literary geniuses have gone over this in many, many works. There is no conclusive answer. Murder, of course, is bad. Rape is horrendous. And still I'm inclined to say that apathy is the most ruinous because apathy can literally kill millions - (See Darfur, for reference). But then, ambition and greed, crimes that are lesser ones in our culture, can have a similar result.
I vote, instead, that we take the wisdom of those who have spent time pondering such things with a grain of salt, and focus, rather, on the things we can do for each other. Maybe if more of us wholly invested ourselves in our metaphorical gardens, taking care of our families and our communities, there would be less crime to think about, and less punishment to inflict.
* the other parts being Purgatorio and Paradiso, don't-cha know
** Apart from murder, our society has no business persecuting or prosecuting these "crimes". Shouldn't we focus on helping and loving each other? Why are we so fucking stuck in what we call 'righteousness', when really our agenda embodies exclusion and hate!?
Dante's Inferno, the first part of The Divine Comedy, describes the worst crimes committed by the worst sinners, and then he details the specific punishments for each of those crimes. He says the worst sin/crime known to man is when a person is a traitor to his master. That's why Satan sits in Dante's frozen hell, flapping his six wings to keep the place icy (as should be the place that is absent of light and love), chewing on the likes of Brutus, Cassius, and Judas Iscariot. Dante felt that betrayal was certainly worse than those that our Western society seems to be hung up on - suicide, abortion, murder, and homosexuality**. Though we are likely to nod at several of Dante's suggestions, we have to remember that he was also very political and actually named names when talking about some crimes and punishments - not so Christ-like, I'm afraid.
We obviously must talk about Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment when Plinky suggests that we do. In it, the main character, Raskolnikov, commits a double murder while in a deranged state. His punishment is existence itself. Rather it is living with his own troubled conscience.
For Meursault in The Stranger, the crime again is murder, though really he is tried for apathy - not crying at his mother's funeral; the punishment is that he is "beheaded in the name of the French government" which is not nearly as bad a punishment to him as is being deprived of a cigarette and sex while in jail. Eventually, even those thing are of little consequence. After all, everyone dies eventually, right? Why is execution better or worse than any other death?
For Shakespeare's overexposed couple, Romeo and Juliet, love and naivete make up the crime and the absence of that love is the punishment. Death joins them in the end. In The Tragedy of Macbeth, Macbeth is too ambitious. It's death and delusion for him. Lear favors the wrong daughters and goes insane. Hamlet's crime is revenge, also punishable by all encompassing death - no one, not the criminal nor the innocent, makes it in the end.
In real life, Martin Luther King said that the biggest crime committed in society is inaction. In many speeches and writings he says that folks who turn blind eyes to injustice are the criminals. I suppose his crime was speaking the truth that many were reluctant to hear. His punishment was being forced to leave this world before his dream was realized. Society's punishment was the loss of a very wise man, their crime being apathy.
And on and on and on.
The point of me going over all of this is to say my answer is I don't know. Literary geniuses have gone over this in many, many works. There is no conclusive answer. Murder, of course, is bad. Rape is horrendous. And still I'm inclined to say that apathy is the most ruinous because apathy can literally kill millions - (See Darfur, for reference). But then, ambition and greed, crimes that are lesser ones in our culture, can have a similar result.
I vote, instead, that we take the wisdom of those who have spent time pondering such things with a grain of salt, and focus, rather, on the things we can do for each other. Maybe if more of us wholly invested ourselves in our metaphorical gardens, taking care of our families and our communities, there would be less crime to think about, and less punishment to inflict.
* the other parts being Purgatorio and Paradiso, don't-cha know
** Apart from murder, our society has no business persecuting or prosecuting these "crimes". Shouldn't we focus on helping and loving each other? Why are we so fucking stuck in what we call 'righteousness', when really our agenda embodies exclusion and hate!?
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