Contradiction

I'm on a Democrats board online. In my profile, I list (some of) my reasons for being a Democrat, as well as my hobbies and what I'm doing with my life. Today, I received this (unsolicited) message. His text is italicized:


I tend to side with Carlin on the question of religion. Though there are wonderful philosophies to be found in the bible, there are many truly awful ones too...and any institution that threatens non-believers with eternal damnation is inherently intolerant (and non-liberal).


I'll agree on this one. However...


I gotta call you on this: "well-thought-out beliefs" is a contradiction. "Thought" is a process of using facts to come to a conclusion; "belief" is a conclusion based on little or no knowledge. ("Faith" filling in the gap, much like with the rationale for war and tax cuts for the wealthy.)



No, actually. My religious faith (as well as my faith in other things) is entirely interdependent on my ability to think through available information to logical conclusions. I’m interested in where you got your helpful taxonomy of word breakdowns. Thoughts, when extrapolated to their fullest means, become beliefs quite frequently. In grade school, I learned how the earth revolves around the sun, creating seasons and alternating patterns of light and dark. Extrapolated, I now believe that when I go to bed at night and it is dark, the next day, with predictable accuracy, it will be light again. Maybe a weak example, but there are many others.


Without going into a lot of details with a total stranger who feels the need to question the phrasing of others, I've gone through enough research and thinking to discern that 1.) There is a God 2.) I am not God. 3.) Jesus Christ is/was the only Messiah, was crucified and raised from the dead. If not, it's the greatest hoax in history.


After all, what is the worst sin a person can commit according to Christianity? Non-belief. We're "fallen" in the first place because humanity ate from the "tree of knowledge." Hitler could've repented in the bunker and gotten into heaven, but a kind and generous agnostic will burn for eternity? Religion, like the current administration, fears knowledge and dissent... which goes against the spirit of liberalism, which celebrates those things.


Hey, careful. Lumping in all people who believe in anything with fundamentalists who use misguided religious beliefs as weapons of oppression is, as you said, like the current administration. Separating equality-minded, liberal government-oriented into the "have" and "have not" camps of religion isn't just incorrect, it's dangerous to the political orienting process. Many religions, including mainstream Western ones and nearly all Eastern ones have the firm belief that knowledge, dissent and religion are compatible. Where else would the Three Questions of Judaism, the scholarship of the early Catholic church, and the tradition of learned Buddhist masters have come from, if not from a faith rooted in the idea that humans are separated from non-human entities by their capacity for abstract thought?


And in most Christian sects, there is no "worst sin." That's a fallacy. As for if Hitler could repent of his sins and sincerely believe and whether or not that's "fair," that's a tired argument based on the assumption that any all-supreme deity wants to separate people out and damn them, which is ultimately very silly and makes absolutely no sense. Does it matter that Hitler would be acceptable to God in the same way Mother Teresa would be? Should it matter more to Mother Teresa or Hitler? Can one ever be truly sorry for the things one has done, whether they are acceptable in the culture or not? Moving in that vein, we're getting into Sarte and essentialism.


Check this out and see what you think: http://www.infidels.org/library/historical/m_m_mangasarian/truth_about_jesus.html
Let me know what you think, and feel free to put me in my place! Write me at: (e-mail address deleted)


While the prose style is interesting, many of his facts are flat-out incorrect. The Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke are consistent with the place and time of Jesus’ birth, within a few years. Most scholars agree that Jesus was born in late October, since the Aramaic word for sheep used in all three gospels specifies a sheep of a certain age, which would be impossible at any other time of year due to historically documented, centuries-old breeding and shepherding practices. The mathematical probability of one person fulfilling all the prophecies written out in the Tanakh (“Old Testament”) is approximately 1 in 580,276. Your odds of winning a national lottery are higher, since that seems to be an analogy familiar to most.


What I find particularly interesting is the need of people to run around and “debunk the myth of Christianity” and to bombast those who profess a Christian faith. Truthfully, would you do the same thing to someone who professed to be religiously Jewish, or Shinto, or B’Nai B’rith? Other than the bad example set by those professing to be Christian, what is it that bothers you so much about me, a random stranger, that you felt compelled to write?


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So the question is, why do people feel the need to categorize and divide? What purpose is served by dividing religious from non-religious, monotheistic/poly- or anti-theistic, Democrat/Republican, Christian/Jewish, male/female, straight/gay, left/right, et cetera, ad nauseum, ad infenitum?

Aside from the basic helpfulness of matching, why? Just...why?

Death

Christopher Reeve's death has been big news for the past 24 hours. What news sources failed to pick up was that the philosopher Jacques Derrida died on Friday, a death that saddens and affects me more than Reeve's death.

For excerpts of Derrida's work, please visit here.

Homecoming

This past weekend was the afore-reviewed Harvest Homecoming, a street festival in nearby New Albany, Indiana. The highlight of the festival for most people, as far as I can tell, is the food. So Friday afternoon, my mother came to pick me up at work and we walked down to Main Street, where three blocks were closed off with booths of all kinds. Most of the stuff there is of no interest to me--lots of country-esque tchotchkes, odd pieces of homemade "art" and other questionable materials--though there is the occasional volunteer opportunity. (It was at HH that I first got involved with Habitat for Humanity.) Because my mother was getting the chance to view the booths later that day with her friend Joanie, we headed straight for the first of the Harvest Homecoming institutions: chicken and dumplings.

It's funny how vivid singular memories are. When you experience something only once a year, or once in a lifetime, it somehow becomes more rich in your memory than something that you experience every week or every day. We all have things like this, I'm sure--birthday cake, the smell and feel of a relative you love dearly but rarely get to see, your first view of a long-awaited sight, or that elusive, perfect kiss.

Here's my theory on things like this: Much like the taste of chicken and dumplings or pumpkin ice cream at Harvest Homecoming, the things you have vivid, amazing memories of very rarely live up to the expectation. They take on a life of their own, so that the potato pancakes your grandmother makes (or, if you have my grandmother, the potato pankcakes and fried green tomatoes she makes) once a year never taste *quite* as good as the year before. They haven't changed--your memories of them have changed what they are.

And I don't think that's a bad thing. It doesn't matter if the second (or tenth, or one-hundred-tenth) time around isn't as good as you remember it being, because you'll always have that clear, shining moment of beauty and perfection. What's more, I think that the memory behind glass, where life and circumstances can't change it, is necessary. When my great-grandmother finally dies, I don't want to remember her like she is now--childlike in speech, helpless from Alzheimer's. I want to remember her the way she was when I was small--brilliant, active, and wickedly funny, teaching me about the birds that flitted about her 100+ acre farm and helping me and my grandmother pick blueberries in cool August dawns.

I'm not bothered by the fact that it will be different the next time I hike Mt. Acadia and see the sunrise from the first place in the US to greet the dawn. I wouldn't give up the first sight of Yankee Stadium for the same feeling in the next thirty glances. The same goes for the Prado, El Vaia de los Caidos, Westminister Tower, and the Pacific Ocean at the 45th Parallel.

I think what makes me not all that concerned is that I know thousands of other things will join those perfect, beautiful memories. The first time I see Tokyo, the first real "I love you," my first child's first breath, the first time I win a case... The possibility of future memories is endless, and, as Catherine of Aragon wrote, "I dwell in the possibilities."


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Then again, I could be alone on all these theories. Let me know.

These are a few of my favorite things (Part II)

(Note: I love lists. So I guess the first thing on my list of my favorite things should be lists.)


Books:


I love books--both fiction and nonfiction. In fact, I keep lengthy lists of books to read in both categories. (This is in addition to the shelves of books in the "Read Next" category.)
Here are some of my favorite books:


Tell Me Lies, Jennifer Crusie:

This fiction book has one of the best opening lines of any book I've ever read. It's about first love, doing the right thing when you really should be doing the wrong thing, gossip, sex, small towns, and how, in the words of John Lennon, "life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." The first Jennifer Cruise book I ever read; it came to me with the caveat "You have to read this--Maddie is you."


Circle of Friends, Maeve Binchy:

Maeve Binchy is not the most complex writer. (Read more than one of her books and you'll realize that she basically does the same plot in every novel.) However, this being the first book of hers that I read, and the one where I felt the most kinship with the characters, it's still one of my favorites. Read it if only for the moments of surprising profundity in the text:

"It was always easy to make them laugh. It was a different think altogether to get them to see you in a different light."


Lamb: the Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal, Christopher Moore:

I firmly believe you can't approach religion without a sense of humor. Plus, I've always wondered what happened in those "missing years" of Jesus' life, from 13 to 30. (That's a lot of time for nothing to happen.) At the risk of cliche, you'll laugh and you'll cry, sometimes within the same page.

"The Messiah was holding the little girl's pet bunny, hugging it to his cheek with the big back feet swinging free. He was gloriously drunk. 'Know what?' Josh said. 'I love bunnies. They toil not, nor do they bark. Henceforth and from now on, I decree that whenever something bad happens to me, there shall be bunnies around. So shall it be written. Go ahead, Biff, write it down.' He waved to me under the bunny, then turned and started back through the gate. 'Where's the friggin' wine? I got a dry bunny over here!'"


Stones from the River, Ursula Heigi:

Trudi Montag is a dwarf living during both World Wars in Germany. Having never read anything about Germany during the wars, it was a refreshing and educating change. Heigi handles the atrocities of war, genocide, physical illness, and family secrets with amazing dexterity.


Do They Hear You When You Cry?,Fauziya Kassindja:

After the sudden death of her liberal father, Kassindja is betrothed to an uncle who demands her circumcision. She escapes to Germany, then to London, and finally emigrates to the United States through a passport belonging to a friend's sister. In the US, she was arrested and confined for two years for using an illegal passport while she battled for asylum. Eventually, through the help of legal aid, she gained amnesty and became a legal resident of the US. Through her biography, female genital mutilation became a war crime and fear of FGM became a grounds for granting asylum.

Still Life with Woodpecker, Tom Robbins:

"There are essential and inessential insanities.


The latter are solar in character, the former are linked to the moon.


Inessential insanities are a brittle amalgamation of ambition, aggression, and pre-adolescent anxiety--garbage that should have been dumped long ago. Essential insanties are those impulses one instinctively senses are virtuous and correct, even though peers may regard them as coo coo.


Inessential insanities get one in trouble with oneself. Essential insanities get one in trouble with others. It's always preferable to be in trouble with others. In fact, it may be essential."



Television:

I used to watch a lot of tv. A lot. But that was when there were good tv shows on. There are very few tv shows I still enjoy--Joan of Arcadia being one. Most of the shows I still love have been cancelled or have simply gone off the air. Here are a few.


Sports Night:

Best. Show. Ever. Written by Aaron Sorkin, who later wrote and produced The West Wing, this show was funny and brilliant with an amazing cast. It also has some of my favorite quotes, like, "If you're stupid, surround yourself with smart people. If you're smart, surround yourself with smart people who disagree with you." (Isaac Jaffe), and "You are about five different kinds of crazy, you know that?" (Casey McCall). Plus, it has Josh Charles, who I'm a little big in love with. Okay, a lot. :-)


Felicity:
Okay, I'm not ashamed. I'll admit it. I loved "Felicity." It was a soap opera for college students when I was in college. Sure, not much of the stuff that happened to her happened to me--I never followed a guy that I hardly knew all the way across the country, I never fell in love with my RA, I never had sex with a random art student, and I never had a mean song written about me by a girl whose boyfriend I stole. (Well, not that I know of.) But "Felicity" was fabulous, if only for the Contemptuous Sardonic Felicity Watchers' Society, of which I was a member. (Of course.)


Sex and the City:

I didn't start watching SaTC until it was into Season 5, but I know exactly when I fell in love. Before seeing the first episode of Season 2 in reruns, I thought the show was offensive and unnecessary and had very little to do with women's real lives. The aforementioned episode (entitled "Take Me Out To the Ballgame") includes Miranda yelling the line, "When did our lives become so juvenile? All we ever talk about is men and dating. It's like junior high with checking accounts!" and imposing a break on her friends, which was exactly what I've said multiple times to several friends. While many of the things that happen have never happened to me (and I doubt they've happened to anyone save a select, adventerous few), it's still a great show with great advice. (The most important being, "If he doesn't call, it's not because of some elaborate excuse. He's just not that into you.")



Okay, enough for now. More later.

Making the political personal

Last night, while watching the first of the Presidential Debates, I was struck by the language that was used by both the candidates. The first quarter of the debate focused on the US's involvement in Iraq. Both Bush and Kerry outlined their plans for ending the occupation of Iraq and Afghanistan, talking about their obligations to the troops stationed there. Not once did either candidate mention the Iraqui citizens, other than their capacity to fight for or against "democracy." Not once did the candidates mention that while life under Sadaam Hussein was difficult for women and children, life now under the US-appointed prime minister is worse. During Hussein's reign, 65% of girls under the age of 16 were enrolled in school and attended full-time. Now, with the imminent threat of rape, kidnapping, and genital mutilation from Iraqui insurgents, American troops (yes, it does happen, and with shockingly-regular frequency), and genocidal countrymen, fewer than 15% of girls under the age of 16 are enrolled or attending schools.* Women and girls are afraid to leave their homes. Suicide bombings and bombings of public venues have increased drastically since the US began occupying Iraq.

We entered Iraq on the premise of finding weapons of mass destruction. WMD have never been found. We entered Iraq and Afghanistan because women and children were experiencing "atrocious" human rights' violations, as evidenced by the wearing of the hijab (face veil) and burqua (full-length body and face veil). Afghani women have faced the same injustices that Iraqui women and girls have faced, in addition to being indefinitely detained in refugee camps--common breeding grounds for genocide, sexual assault and abuse, and ideological terrorism. We entered Iraq with no exit strategy, limited military personel and equipment, and, more than a year later, we are still there, in the same circumstaces.

The candidates talk about human rights like they're some ideal exclusively held by Americans, or even by those living in democracies. (They're not.) They talk about human rights violations like they're exclusively happening in Iraq and Afghanistan. (They're not--they're happening in the US, in China, and in North Korea, among other places. Yet we don't seem to care about those places.)

There are so many Americans who have the right to vote and don't use it. They don't think their vote makes a difference, or they can't be bothered to stay informed, or they don't like any of the candidates. Not voting is an insult to the sacrifices made by Alice Paul, Lucy Burn, and Dora Lewis. Not voting is an absolute degradation to the men and women who walked miles to cast their ballots, only to be turned away from polling place after polling place because of the color of their skin. Not voting negates any right you might have to complain about the presidential administration, and it negates any right you have to tout the ideals of democracy. You have given up the rights afforded to you under a democracy.

Occasionally, I will read an op-ed piece that mentions the perils of making "the personal political." I say that the personal is always political. Our political convictions come from our life experiences, and cannot be separated from our personal lives. Those who think making the personal political is dangerous usually do so because of their fear of rights that have been limited by sexuality or sexual expression (meaning gay and lesbian rights as well as reproductive rights).

Moreover, the political should be personal. I used to think that the sitting president had very little to do with my daily life. Now I know that's wrong. An irresponsible, war-mad president has restricted the rights of the people and has caused Americans to live in fear. He has shown himself to be a poor leader, a poor planner, and an even worse diplomat.

This November, make the political personal. Vote.

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The deadline for registering to vote (either in person or through absentee ballots) is Monday, October 4th for Indiana and Kentucky. To register online in any state, visit here.

* Data from Women for Women International and Amnesty International.