Well, this has been fun. Dad H. and I went to the mall as usual this morning, but while we were having our coffee in the food court, he suddenly came over dizzy, then felt worse, then lay down on the floor and passed out. There were people and nurses around, and a lot of hullabaloo, and he was taken to the ER, where I followed. This was not very much fun; in fact, it was awful. But he's stable now, and they're keeping an eye on his heart in the CCU at St. John's, so I'm going to plotz for a little while and not worry. So, to distract my mind somewhat, I'm going to do this week's Friday Five:
1. Were you raised in a particular religious faith? My parents converted to Christianity when I was young, first Mom, then Dad. Then I was raised in a nondenominational charismatic Christian home. For this reason, I don't have the urge that many do to identify themselves with a particular denomination as if it were my religion in itself, but I do consider myself as having been in an orthodox environment for a long time. However, it took me a long time to stop pretending to myself that I was a Christian and actually be one. I was the one who had the right answer in Sunday School, but never felt like it made a difference to me.
2. Do you still practice that faith? Why or why not? As will be seen from above, I am not still a Christian; I became one after a lot of wrestling and struggling with God. I eventually figured out that if I was angry with God and wanted to rebel, I might as well be honest with Him about it, since He probably knows anyway. He hasn't zapped me yet. :) In fact, in these times of struggle, I got closer to God than when I was parroting right answers to keep Him and other people at bay. I practice the Christian faith because I believe it's true, and because by being true it makes an actual, real-life difference to the way I think about the pains in my life, whether caused by me or by others. In an age when declaring one's Christianity is seen more as a political act and less as a religious one, I have to think long and hard about the way I say this, so here it is: What Christ did on the cross makes a difference to me because it reconciles me to God. I guess that's the bottom line.
3. What do you think happens after death? Death scares me. From what I hear in church, it's not supposed to scare Christians, but it does me; Philip Larkin's "the anesthetic from which no one ever comes round" puts it just right for me now that I've experienced general anesthesia. What from my experience will contradict the feeling that my consciousness will just end? The good news to me is that this struggle is built into the New Testament. Christ is called "the firstborn from among the dead" to give people hope that some form of spiritual and even bodily life will be ours after this life is over -- because people don't have the guarantee that it happens. The first Christians had no illusions about what the breakup and darkness and molder of Sheol really was: and yet they had found some Person they could trust through all this. I'm not sure how it will pan out, but I believe the Bible and I know who I'm trusting, and that's what I always come down to when I'm scared.
4. What is your favorite religious ritual (participating in or just observing)? Having grown up, as I said, nondenominational charismatic, I participated in no rituals that were supposed to be called such except for Communion. Communion used to make me mad because it seemed like people were getting all spiritual about eating a little wafer and drinking a cute little cup of grape juice, and I meanwhile felt nothing at all when I did this. After I became a Christian indeed, I began to understand the exercise. But I'm still tempted badly to fret about what I'm feeling during the act rather than just do it, so I couldn't call it a favorite ritual. My favorite rituals are actually Jewish ones: especially the part of the Oneg Shabbat when we all drink wine and give each other pieces of challah bread. That, and singing the Shema. Isn't this essentially the same act (eating and drinking) as Communion? Yeah, but we're not all watching ourselves to make sure we're doing it "worthily". I'm not dogging Communion here; I'm dogging the attitude I've seen taken toward it, that we have to reach some level of Realization before the ritual is worth anything. The Catholics have it better; even if you don't believe in transubstantiation, their form of the ritual makes it easier to think of the act as renewing the Christ-life inside you, whatever you happen to be feeling. Oy, don't get me started. Well, I am started, so oh well. The soul mimics the body better than the body the soul, so just do it and worry about feeling right later. Not that you can't err in the opposite direction, but that isn't my problem at the moment.
5. Do you believe people are basically good? Existence is a good thing. Intelligence is a good thing. All people exist, and most people have some intelligence, so it isn't an evil thing for anyone to exist. The big BUT is that people have the choice to pervert their existence and their talents so they can have their OWN way about things, and we're now wired to want that. A lot. "Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds," says the Bard, and he's right: It's because we are basically good that any evil in us is such an abomination. I get very impatient with Christians who boil it down Jonathan Edwards-style by saying that we just suck and God hates the sight of us. If we really sucked through and through, God wouldn't get so exercised; he'd just flush us down the toilet and then go raid the heavenly fridge for some ice cream. If, however, we are good enough at least to know better, I can see God the Parent counting to ten and pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed.
My brain's mush. I'll blog more later.
1. Were you raised in a particular religious faith? My parents converted to Christianity when I was young, first Mom, then Dad. Then I was raised in a nondenominational charismatic Christian home. For this reason, I don't have the urge that many do to identify themselves with a particular denomination as if it were my religion in itself, but I do consider myself as having been in an orthodox environment for a long time. However, it took me a long time to stop pretending to myself that I was a Christian and actually be one. I was the one who had the right answer in Sunday School, but never felt like it made a difference to me.
2. Do you still practice that faith? Why or why not? As will be seen from above, I am not still a Christian; I became one after a lot of wrestling and struggling with God. I eventually figured out that if I was angry with God and wanted to rebel, I might as well be honest with Him about it, since He probably knows anyway. He hasn't zapped me yet. :) In fact, in these times of struggle, I got closer to God than when I was parroting right answers to keep Him and other people at bay. I practice the Christian faith because I believe it's true, and because by being true it makes an actual, real-life difference to the way I think about the pains in my life, whether caused by me or by others. In an age when declaring one's Christianity is seen more as a political act and less as a religious one, I have to think long and hard about the way I say this, so here it is: What Christ did on the cross makes a difference to me because it reconciles me to God. I guess that's the bottom line.
3. What do you think happens after death? Death scares me. From what I hear in church, it's not supposed to scare Christians, but it does me; Philip Larkin's "the anesthetic from which no one ever comes round" puts it just right for me now that I've experienced general anesthesia. What from my experience will contradict the feeling that my consciousness will just end? The good news to me is that this struggle is built into the New Testament. Christ is called "the firstborn from among the dead" to give people hope that some form of spiritual and even bodily life will be ours after this life is over -- because people don't have the guarantee that it happens. The first Christians had no illusions about what the breakup and darkness and molder of Sheol really was: and yet they had found some Person they could trust through all this. I'm not sure how it will pan out, but I believe the Bible and I know who I'm trusting, and that's what I always come down to when I'm scared.
4. What is your favorite religious ritual (participating in or just observing)? Having grown up, as I said, nondenominational charismatic, I participated in no rituals that were supposed to be called such except for Communion. Communion used to make me mad because it seemed like people were getting all spiritual about eating a little wafer and drinking a cute little cup of grape juice, and I meanwhile felt nothing at all when I did this. After I became a Christian indeed, I began to understand the exercise. But I'm still tempted badly to fret about what I'm feeling during the act rather than just do it, so I couldn't call it a favorite ritual. My favorite rituals are actually Jewish ones: especially the part of the Oneg Shabbat when we all drink wine and give each other pieces of challah bread. That, and singing the Shema. Isn't this essentially the same act (eating and drinking) as Communion? Yeah, but we're not all watching ourselves to make sure we're doing it "worthily". I'm not dogging Communion here; I'm dogging the attitude I've seen taken toward it, that we have to reach some level of Realization before the ritual is worth anything. The Catholics have it better; even if you don't believe in transubstantiation, their form of the ritual makes it easier to think of the act as renewing the Christ-life inside you, whatever you happen to be feeling. Oy, don't get me started. Well, I am started, so oh well. The soul mimics the body better than the body the soul, so just do it and worry about feeling right later. Not that you can't err in the opposite direction, but that isn't my problem at the moment.
5. Do you believe people are basically good? Existence is a good thing. Intelligence is a good thing. All people exist, and most people have some intelligence, so it isn't an evil thing for anyone to exist. The big BUT is that people have the choice to pervert their existence and their talents so they can have their OWN way about things, and we're now wired to want that. A lot. "Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds," says the Bard, and he's right: It's because we are basically good that any evil in us is such an abomination. I get very impatient with Christians who boil it down Jonathan Edwards-style by saying that we just suck and God hates the sight of us. If we really sucked through and through, God wouldn't get so exercised; he'd just flush us down the toilet and then go raid the heavenly fridge for some ice cream. If, however, we are good enough at least to know better, I can see God the Parent counting to ten and pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed.
My brain's mush. I'll blog more later.
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