converting to atheism and back again

New Statesman - Why I believe again

Really lovely quote in this longer piece in the New Statesman about the journey from doubt - to unbelief - to belief. The article profiles A N Wilson, once a religious man turned atheist, who is now slowly grasping back to God again.

"The existence of language is one of the many phenomena – of which love and music are the two strongest – which suggest that human beings are very much more than collections of meat. They convince me that we are spiritual beings, and that the religion of the incarnation, asserting that God made humanity in His image, and continually restores humanity in His image, is simply true. "

His suspicion of "conversion," in his case to atheism, rings true with my own experiences. The q & a portion is also quite interesting. Wilson says his fear of death pushed him back to God.

institutional privilege

A new thought: maybe instead of talking about institutional racism we should change our terminology and start talking about institutional privilege.

I've been thinking a lot these days about how it's a question of priority - I want to change tactics and start drawing attention to how institutions prioritize the needs or desires of certain groups or individuals over others based on their culture/race/ethnicity.

We are never going to completely remove systems of power, but power should be used on behalf of and for all.

perfect day

It’s a perfect cloudy Saturday morning. Everything is quiet – except for the sound of our mouse Basil running on his wheel and the lone cry of a bird outside. It’s the first time in a long time where everything feels right in the world.

Of course, everything is not right in the world. News of bombs in Iraq yesterday broke through my thick wall of violence fatigue. Glimmers of anger surfaced: how can they kill their own citizens? The world is on edge to see what will happen in Pakistan. And I wonder what the victory of Jacob Zuma in South Africa will mean for the future of Africa. Meanwhile, death and grief touch those I love.

But in my corner of the world, things are ok. I know three things: I am quitting my job at the end of May, in a little over a month I’ll be in South Africa, and in August I will start taking classes again. Our perfect plan of going to graduate school together hasn’t panned out, and yet, in times where there are big gaps, holes and question marks, I find myself feeling strangely free.

God has been so faithful to us. I often wonder, in seeking meaning and purpose in my life, if I construct this sense of God’s presence as a way to cope with chaos and uncertainty. Who knows? The truth is that looking back we have been so taken care of these last two years. Every need has been provided for and beyond.

And now, once again, we are moving into the great unknown. With a limited amount of money in our savings, we are following our dreams to Africa and hoping that not only will Than find a job next year but that a way will open up for him to pursue PHD work – in Houston or elsewhere. And I am preparing to enter a PHD program in a field still somewhat obscure to me: religious studies. The dissertation is still a long way off, but I can’t help wonder what will take shape. What will I devote myself to studying and writing about? What ideas will capture my imagination and just not let go? How will this next season connect with all my past seasons? What new threads and long forgotten ones will emerge?

at home

tortured nation

Divisions Arose on Rough Tactics for Qaeda Figure - NYTimes.com

Only one of the MANY articles this week realized on US interrogations and torture. I feel so sick when I read first-hand accounts of torture and waterboarding. Sicker than I felt 4 years ago when I was protesting but we only had rumors. Now, we have proof and testimony and paper trails that show this was not isolated instances but an overall strategy supported by the Bush administration.

I'm conflicted on the issue of justice... what should be done?

reconciliation at work

Despite feeling pessimistic about the status of race relations in the US right now, I was really inspired by an article in the New York Times today about a white director - Bartlett Sher - who directed the play Joe Turner by August Wilson. In his lifetime, Wilson only wanted his plays directed by African Americans, as most black directors did not have access to high-level directing positions. It's interesting that the title of the article is "Race is an Issue in Wilson Play, and in Its Production." The title suggests a story of tension --- and while there are inherent tensions anytime we talk about race --- even more importantly it's a story about reconciliation at work.

How did Sher - a white man - end up directing this play? The article offers some important clues into his journey.

1) First, Sher is someone who has had a long term relationship with the black arts community and has used his position to consistently advocate for blacks in theater and film. He had also built a long-term relationship with Wilson's widow and worked to earn her trust.

2) Second, Sher was willing to listen. He recognized the limits of his experience and instead of maintaining a position of authority, he developed a posture of learning --- drawing from the experiences and knowledge of his black cast. In many ways, there was an inversion of power as Sher allowed himself to be "directed" by the cast.

3) Finally, Sher was willing to allow for and face questions, cynicism, and anger at the choice of his direction. Sher himself recognizes the contradictions of his position and is willing to face these contradictions --- the fact that he might be taking an opportunity away from a black director --- and at the same time Sher advocates publicly for black directors to be involved in the directing of not just black plays but larger canonical works.

On the other side of things, we see something really important happening with Wilson's wife --- who gave her blessing for Sher to direct the play. Interestingly, she has a different vision than that of her late husbands, which may have something to do with her own background as a Hispanic American: “My work is to get these stories out there,” she said, “and to help ensure that audiences walk out of the plays with a deeper understanding for these American stories and for the ways our cultures intertwine.” Wilson's widow also has a desire to cross-cultural relationship and understanding. While the article does not say this, I think she wanted to model this cultural entwining in allowing Sher to direct.

I find this story so beautiful. It's about relationship, about openness on both sides, and about the desire to deeply understand one another through art and experience. It's clear Ms. Romero, the cast, the producer, and Mr. Sher were willing to make space for each other --- and face the hard questions as a result. I recognize the validity of wanting to have a black director direct a high-level black play and cast, but I was so inspired and encouraged by the interesting and brave path these two, the producer,and the wider cast and crew have forged. The writer of the article only hints at this incredible process. I'm glad he shared the story - while not downplaying the serious issues it raises - and I only wish we had more models like this to draw from.

post-racial? - perhaps just tired

After reading a interesting analysis of a recent Newsweek article on race at Princeton yesterday at Reconciliation Blog, I couldn't help but feel pessimistic about the complexity and ambiguity of race relations in America.

On top of that, I'm feeling BURNT OUT. In the two years that I have been here, I’ve seen our Organization of Latin American Students organization fall apart, our Student Senate position for cultural awareness disappear, our “cultural awareness week” collapse to one day, and the Black Student Organization hover on extinction at least 3 times. I’ve been forced to ask some hard questions about the relevancy of these groups and “awareness." The campus is no more diverse than when I arrived: we still only have 2 Hispanic professors and 1 African American faculty member.

Our forum on race this year took an astonishing turn with some or our black students proudly claimed that they would never take any scholarship money based on their racial/cultural background--- in response to a white student’s complaint that she felt “racism” because she did not have access to the same types of federal funds that minority students might have (never mind she has a full golf scholarship --- but that’s because she worked hard, right?). I really didn’t know what to do with that conversation. The black students felt proud because they challenged a stereotype; I felt sad because I tend to think the real problem is the assumption that we all start at the same place and if we “work hard” then we will get what we deserve. White privilege in action.

Then, there are the conversations that I have almost daily with my staff. They are supportive to an extent but still resist policies and strategies that address openly the issue of race on our campus with all the convenient dismissals: it’s not really that bad, “they” just need to find their place here, the world is just broken: we are always going to be this problem so why try. The result is effectively a policy of silence and assimilation. Every year some brave souls try to start the conversation again, but after a few meetings, it dies. Meanwhile, it gets harder and harder for advocates of diversity to stay here.

I wish that white people would understand that not talking about it is what upholds the status quo and contributes to the every-day feelings of isolation, uneasiness, and the endlessly exhausting process of translation for minority students. There is no sense of safety; there is no sense that they can really say what they think and feel, that their experience will be received. The message our university communicates? It is not acceptable, maybe even “un-Christian” to acknowledge difference. Difference destroys unity. Or rather, acknowledgement of difference destroys the veneer of safety and stability that has been cultivated around the illusion of shared identity.

I’m tired of these conversations too. I’m tired of talking about “diversity” or the Christianized version of “reconciliation.” Don’t get me wrong – I believe strongly in the power of reconciliation, but would I rather have 1) a university that talks about reconciliation so that it doesn’t have to actually make any structural changes and can absolve itself of some guilt while looking a little less white or 2) a university where reconciliation isn’t even part of the vocabulary and everyone assumes that if they can just be a “nice Christian community” that is enough. The former is hypocritical and the latter is naïve. Both, in my experience, are difficult places to work.

And in the end, it’s the students who suffer year after year. They are the one’s desperately waiting, sometimes not even aware that they are waiting. As a community, if we are really going to make this reconciliation thing work, we are going to have to learn how to hold pain, how to hold anger, how to acknowledge guilt, and how to claim an identity of grace, love and forgiveness over all other identities – while still recognizing and celebrating our unique differences. This is the university, the church, the nation, the world, I envision. But how to cultivate this?

Vicky, Cristina, and Boring Barcelona

So, I finally watched Vicky Cristina Barcelona last night. Ugh. I’m so glad I didn’t watch this film the in the theaters. There was some potential at being a really great film that explores the complexity of relationship and desire, but none of this potential ever breaks through. Instead, Allen’s characters and plot end up being shallow and worn out.

While watching, I had to wonder at times if the film was trying to be ironic or self-parodying, but I don’t think so.

Picking Letters, 10 a Day, That Reach Obama

Picking Letters, 10 a Day, That Reach Obama - NYTimes.com

This article is really touching. It's nice to know that 10 letters a day from ordinary citizens get personally read by President Obama. It must be an interesting job to sort through the president's mail.

Lilly Graduate Fellows Program

I'm off to Indiana to interview for the Lilly Graduate Fellows Program!

At a time when I'm feeling burnt out on on Christian higher education, this has been a good - but difficult - opportunity to reflect on my sense of vocation. Preparing for the interview has been an exercise in rediscovering what's really important. As tempting as it might be to look at this program as an opportunity for legitimacy, I don't need the Lilly Foundation to bless my work and deem it appropriate. At the same time, this could be a really cool chance to connect with like-minded mentors and peers. So, we'll see what happens!

Happy Easter

It's been a wonderful week of food.



On Monday, I decided to bring to our monthly potluck
* fresh strawberries, & vanilla ice cream topped with a balsamic reduction *

This was partially inspired by my recent visit to Molly Moon's ice cream shop in Seattle. Her balsamic strawberry ice cream is amazing~I have never made balsamic reduction before, but it turned out great. Than and I loved how the acidity of the vinegar brought out the natural sweetness of the strawberries and added an extra kick to our ice cream.

Then, for Easter lunch, I made my fantasy birthday deserts.

Greek Yogurt & Lavender Cheesecake (above)

Chocolate-Honey Tart
This tart is soooooo eaay and delicious. Check out the linked recipe.
Coincidentally, the recipes also calls for lavender

.

Finally, Than and I celebrating Easter at our friend's Rich and Christine's.
Than is holding the cutest baby at Porchlight!

living in prayer

My Lenten exercises have fallen by the wayside and I ask with Paul – why is that what I want to do, I cannot do?

My ideals are never reached – sabotaged by laziness, sloth, love of pleasure.

I’ve been reflecting a lot recently on work, or rather vocation. It’s clear that there is an intimate connection between the words discipline and discipleship. Now, obviously these two words come from the same root, but recently I feel this intimacy as I pursue my chosen discipline – religious studies – and at the same time ask: what does it mean to follow?

I would estimate that 90% of my work to apply to graduate school involved the unseen emotional/mental/spiritual work of overcoming voices of fear, shame, despondency or rather continuing to press forward despite those voices. Pursuing one's passion in a spirit of hope really is a working-out process, a constant confrontation with false selves and false idols.

What keeps me going is a trust that the work matters, despite how I may or may not feel.
There are moments of crystal clarity when everything seems to make sense. Those are few and far between. More often, I find myself in a sea of ambiguity, searching for words, phrases, ideas, and images to guide me on the yet uncharted path ahead. It is in those moments that I wonder: did you lead me into this wilderness to die? Was the clarity I felt a grand delusion, a mockery, a farce? How is it that some seem to know so clearly what it is they want --- and my knowledge is always, at best, partial?

Certainty has never been my companion, but faith has. Faith has rescued and carried me through. But what if faith is just a construct to provide meaning and order in our lives --- a sense of plan --- when life is most chaotic and unpredictable?

I can’t say, but I will close with one of my favorite prayers from Thomas Merton, who like me was a doubter and yet could not stop seeking.

dreaming in green