Results tagged “minister” from Marilyn Sewell

A group of anti-faith folks are conducting a campaign--you may have seen the motto plastered on signs or flashing on TV: IMAGINE NO RELIGION.  When I saw this phrase, I actually thought it was a pro-religion group, asking people to imagine the loss we would feel if there were no religion.  But apparently the intent is just the opposite: they believe that the world would be a much better place without religion.

This sentiment fits perfectly the message of a number of best-selling books which have crowded the bookstores in recent years: Richard Dawkins' The God Delusion, in which he says that belief in a personal god is delusional and "when many people suffer from a delusion, it is called religion"; Sam Harris's The End of Faith, in which he points out the remarkable insight that the Inquisition was a bad thing; and then Christopher Hitchens' God Is Not Great, in which he disses not only St. Augustine (OK, so Augustine had a problem with sex), but also the Dalai Lama, St. Francis, and Gandhi. 

Who are these people, anyway, who write with such vigor and authority about God?  Are they theologians, who have studied for long years?  Are they philosophers?  Are they ministers or priests, who know the territory from the inside, by practice?  Actually, Dawkins is a science writer.  Hitchens is . . . a clever iconoclast.  and Sam Harris dropped out of Stanford, where he was majoring in English and 11 years later went back there to earn a B.A. in philosophy.  They are not exactly Tillichian.  They are all over-the-top angry, and they all point out the worst excesses of religion--without bothering to point out the worst excesses of science, of political ideology, and of secular leaders.  News flash: people are imperfect.  As my grandmother used to say, "All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God."  "All" would be inclusive of religious people.

But let me tell you a real story about real people.  A Methodist minister told me that a few weeks ago, a woman came to his church one Sunday, looking for help.  She was in an abusive relationship, and she was frightened, with nowhere to turn.  After the service, the minister talked with her, and got her the support she needed, from the appropriate agency.  This woman was a stranger, not a Methodist, not a church-goer at all.  Why did she choose to go to this church, then?  As she said, "My assumption was that there would be somebody there who cared."

Yes, religion is imperfect, because human beings are imperfect.  We can take a message of love and new life from a prophet and turn it into a message of hate and death.  But that doesn't negate the original message, nor does that negate the institutions that try to embody that message.  It doesn't negate believers, people of faith like myself, who fail so often to do the good, and yet who, the next day, brush ourselves off and try to do better.

Imagine no religion?  Imagine not having a place to go where you can assume that somebody cares.  Imagine that.

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I recently received an anonymous letter.  Now no leader is immune to these things, and I've gotten a few in my day.  Generally they are nasty and often incoherent ravings which I don't bother reading.  This one was decidedly different.  This one was a cry for help.  But since I don't know who sent it, I can't respond.  I know only what she has told me about herself in a 3-page letter. 

M is a person not unlike many of you reading this blog.  She says she has a good sense of humor.  She is a single woman from a middle-class, two-parent family who has worked hard to create a good life for herself.  She has struggled successfully with health problems and problems of self-esteem for the past 10 years and has learned  to cope, in her words, "without self-medicating (food/alcohol/drugs)."

M successfully bought and sold her first house, making a tidy profit.  She re-educated herself about U.S. history from the working people's point of view and found her life's passion as an activist. She opened the first fair-trade shop in her area and created a peace movement in her hometown.  Having previously lived in Portland for a short time, she decided to move here and dedicate herself "to creating a just and equitable society with the good people  in the City of Roses."

But job hunting in Portland has been daunting.  After a life of successful employment, she can find nothing.  When she wrote the letter, she was less than two weeks from being kicked out of her rented room and needing to live in her van.  She needs money for food, medical care, and transportation.  She is asking herself the question, "How is it that an able-bodied person with good work skills and a positive mental and spiritual outlook . . . who comes from a solid middle-class family with loving and supportive parents be standing on an economic cliff, just waiting to be pushed off?"

Dear M--

Had you come to me for counseling, I would have given you a cup of tea.  We would have sat quietly together, and I would have listened.  I would have tried to get to know you not only by your words, but by your facial expressions, by the quality of your voice.  I would have tried to be fully present with you during our time together.  I might have said some of the following things:

I'm so sorry that you are in such a state of fear and pain.  You may feel alone in all of this, but so many people in our church and in Portland and all over the country are facing similar frightening circumstances.  You may feel alone also, because you're new to our city--but  there are many compassionate people who care, and some of them may be found in our church.  Come to the church and visit with one of the ministers, or a lay minister.

Please do not blame yourself for the situation you're facing--it's all too easy for an unemployed person to think that there's something wrong with them.  That's just not true.  Our unemployment rate is in the double-digits in this state--and those stats don't include all those who have given up looking for work and all those who are under-employed.  You've had problems with self-esteem in the past, and these same demons may reappear while you're going through this vulnerable period.  Keep telling yourself that you are not the problem.

In your letter you say that this economic crisis is proof that the current economic model is not viable.  I couldn't agree more.  We are trying to "bail out" a system that is corrupt and finally imploded upon itself.  We are going to have to reimagine how we want to be together as a people, and we're going to have to create an economic model that is inclusive of the well-being of all, not just the wealthy.  With your understanding of class and your commitment to change, you will be a part of creating that new future.

As to how we got in this fix--and it is a world-wide phenomenon, of course--the short answer is "sin."  Too many people were willing to look away from what they knew to be true, because they were being enriched by a system that had no integrity, that was bound to fail.  Government and business ane functionally interchangeable, and one might even say that the main purpose of government in this country is to protect and support big business.  Until the people say "no more!" shameful economic inequity will continue,  I hope that the bankers and money brokers and government officials who turned a blind eye to our economic disaster-in-the-making understand that real human beings like you--millions of them--are suffering terribly because of their selfishness and lack of responsibility.

The last question in your letter is "When will it end?"  I wish I could prophesy, and tell you.  But no one can, because the situation we are facing is unprecedented.  Thus far, we have been throwing old solutions at a new problem--kind of like treating AIDS with lots and lots of penicillin. 

I will tell you this--it will end, though, because human beings eventually figure stuff out.  All of us have to be a part of the new age that is coming.  In the meantime, find a community.  Know that you are not alone.  Know that you a good person.  Know that the future will open once again for you, as it has in the past.  

Bless you, my dear, wherever you are.  Though I don't know you, know that I'm thinking of you.

Marilyn 

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A ferocious conversation about shoe-throwing is taking place all over the Middle East just now.  It appears that there are two schools of thought at the moment regarding the action of Muntader al-Zaidi, the journalist who threw two shoes at President Bush during a press conference.  Some people are saying that the act was wrong, that traditional Arab hospitality towards a guest demands respect, even if a person disapproves of the guest (as most Arabs apparently do, of this guest).  Far more people, however, seem elated by the defiant act--in fact, Muntader al-Zaidi has become something of folk hero to many.  In the Sadr City section of Baghdad, people are taking off their shoes and sandals and putting them on long poles, and waving them high in the air, demanding that Americans immediately withdraw from their country.  (See NYTimes, 12/16)

I must say that it was pretty amazing to see repeated television images of someone throwing a shoe at the President, hard and fast, and the President ducking, and then, whoops, here comes another one, again just barely missing.  Bush made light of it, saying "This is how democracy works."  Well, actually, no--being in a democracy doesn't give a person permission to fling shoes at their President.  The act, no doubt, was disrespectful.  But was it brave and appropriate--or rash and foolish?

I grew up in the South, in a society in which politeness was paramount--rules were followed.  It was "Yes, Ma'am" and "Yes, Sir."  It was speaking softly and slowly, it was moving gently in the world.  And yet often, out of the mouths of these good and gentle people, who would stretch and strain never to offend, came horrendous remarks and acts of racism.  The rules about black and white were clear: "Nigras" were fine so long as they "stayed in their place."  When they did not, when they dared to violate the rules, violence erupted.

Well, who makes the rules, and for what purpose?  And when should rules be broken? 

I am of two minds of this.  I am all for rules of decorum.  I prefer polite behavior.  Let me tell you, that a man can open the door for me any time.  And I like to visit the South, where children have been saying "Yes, Ma'm" to me since I was 35.  I believe that these rules of behavior are there for a reason, and generally that reason is so that society can remain civilized, and people will remain respectful of one another.

On the other hand, sometimes rules and traditions need to be broken, and their very breaking shines a light on something that is awry in the society.  Martin Luther King, Jr., taught his followers to practice civil disobedience, and so they sat in restaurants and at drugstore counters that were "White Only."  Rosa Parks did not follow the rules of the city bus line.  The Berrigan brothers poured blood on draft records during the Vietnam War.  Every year demonstrators go to the School of the Americas in Georgia, where the U.S. trains foreign soldiers to terrorize their own citizens, and these demonstrators break the rules--they step over the government "line" and are arrested, and many have been jailed, some for as long as six months--nuns and priests and ministers, among them.

Every person must discern for himself or herself when it's right and appropriate to break the rules.  One rule of thumb would be your motive, of course--are you breaking the rule for your own benefit, or to grandstand--or because you believe a statement must be made that cannot better be made another way. 

I myself--well, I'm a good girl and always have been.  I follow the rules.  That's why I was elected "Best Christian" in my senior year in high school.  And then I became an English teacher, and you know how they are about rules.  Now I'm a minister, and we all are aware of the rule-bound-ness of religion.  Except there's one rule in religion that's bigger than all the others--it's called the Rule of Love.  So when we face a dilemma, we can ask, "What is the most loving thing to do?"  Sometimes it's fasting.  Sometimes it's not eating British salt.  Sometimes it's speaking the truth to power, even though that's going to get you in a mess of trouble. 

Sometimes it's throwing a shoe.

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