Showing posts sorted by date for query atheist. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by date for query atheist. Sort by relevance Show all posts

Friday, July 17, 2026

Well, I Believed In U.S. Elections….

... until last night.

Now I’m an elections atheist. And it’s all Trump’s fault.

Friday, June 26, 2026

Sleeping Through The Midterms

How interesting:
Praising a proposal to require Texas public school students to read Bible stories and passages in class, supporters say the perspective is an important acknowledgment that the nation was founded on Judeo-Christian values.

Rabbis and Jewish leaders, however, criticized the biblical passages chosen by the State Board of Education as heavy on Christianity and dismissive of Judaism, reducing the term Judeo-Christian to “a fig leaf at inclusion.”

The State Board of Education kicked off a week of meetings Monday by hearing from more than 400 experts, teachers and concerned citizens on two proposals — one that would overhaul the state’s social studies curriculum, and another that would create a required reading list for K-12 public schoolchildren. Both proposals include biblical references, passages and stories. A final vote is expected by Friday.

Many of the speakers who praised the proposed reading list said it was important to teach children about Judeo-Christian heritage and values.

“Don’t lie about where we came from as Americans,” witness Richard Green said. “It was the Judeo-Christian value system that produced the greatest, most powerful, the wealthiest, most free, the most benevolent nation in the history of the world.”

Larry Holland with the conservative grassroots group Citizens for Education Reform endorsed the reading list because it was aligned with “a nation founded on the principles of Judeo-Christian heritage.”

Several rabbis and Jewish individuals rejected the use of “Judeo-Christian” to support the list.

“One would think that this phrase is meant to evoke friendship between the two faiths, but I do not find that here — or in the language surrounding support for this list,” said Blake Ziegler, a Texas field organizer for the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism.

Cameron Samuels, executive director of Students Engaged in Advancing Texas, which works to include young people in state policy decisions, objected to using “Judeo-Christian” to characterize Texas values.

“Not in my Jewish faith shall you mandate entire chapters of the Bible for over five and a half million students in Texas and proclaim that this speaks for Jewish people,” Samuels said.

...

For many of the Jewish leaders who testified before the State Board of Education, the required readings signified the contradictions behind the term Judeo-Christian.

Of the roughly dozen scriptural passages included in the reading list, many were taken from the Hebrew Bible — the shared text between Jews and Christians — but most of the excerpts are from distinctly Christian translations.

Ziegler and Houston Rabbi David Segal criticized the reading list’s inclusion of Lamentations Chapter 3, the only biblical passage taken from the Tanakh, the Jewish translation of the Hebrew Bible. The Texas curriculum requires using a translation produced in 1917 by the Jewish Publication Society, and many contemporary Jewish communities no longer use it.

Ziegler told the education board that the translation was outdated and said he was concerned that the passage’s “graphic violence isn’t appropriate for eighth grade.”

Lamentations 3 details the physical, mental and spiritual effects of God’s wrath on those who stray from him.

Ziegler also criticized placing Lamentations 3 alongside Holocaust literature, like Elie Wiesel’s “Night,” in the curriculum.

“Lamentations understands the destruction of the ancient temple in Jerusalem as God’s punishment for the Israelites’ sins,” he said. “When it’s taught alongside Holocaust literature — suggesting that was similarly a divine punishment for Jews — that is an unacceptable implication that invites antisemitism and hurts Jews across the state.”

Segal agreed. “Of course, [the translation] is outdated, but worse, you’ve anchored it to Holocaust literature, which invites eighth graders to consider whether the Holocaust was God’s punishment for the Jews,” he told the board.

“I assume this poor choice comes from ignorance, not intent, but either way it’s unacceptable, as is the proposed list as a whole, which I ask you to reject and start over,” Segal said.

Joshua Fixler, rabbi at Houston’s Congregation Emanu El and a member of the Religious Action Center, said the curriculum’s near-exclusive use of Christian interpretations and scriptures will result in the “further alienation of non-Christian students.”

Speaking after his testimony, Fixler said he is almost always troubled by invocations of “Judeo-Christian,” which to him “make actions that Christians are doing seem more inclusive by including Jews in the phrase.”

“It feels like a fig leaf at inclusion,” Fixler said. “They’re promoting a particular version of Protestant Christianity in our public schools and trying to use Jews as cover by using the term Judeo-Christian.”
Because the real point is to keep our kids away from Sharia law:
“We do not need to emphasize other cultures like Islam,” Patricia Franklin of Lubbock told the board of education. Focusing instead on Judeo-Christian ideas “will foster our students’ understanding and pride in our moral, cultural and civic traditions,” she said.

Laurie Cardoza Moore, the evangelical Christian founder of Proclaiming Justice to the Nations, a group that mobilizes support for Israel, emphasized Judaism’s impact on Western civilization.

“For more than two decades, PJTN has warned that anti-Israel propaganda and historical revisionism and ideological activism are entering classrooms,” she said.

“Students are being exposed to narratives that minimize the Jewish roots of Western civilization, distort the history of Israel, ignore the contributions of the Jewish people to America’s founding,” she said.

The Judeo-Christian Caucus says it unites pastors, legislators and citizens to “uphold and promote our Judeo-Christian heritage.” Contacted by email, Dran Reese, president of the group, said the term “Judeo-Christian” recognizes Christianity’s heritage “and affirms the timeless moral and ethical principles shared by both Jews and Christians.” The group was not present at the hearing.

“United by these common values,” Reese said, the caucus seeks “to strengthen faith, family, freedom, and the biblical foundations that have blessed our nation and civilization.”
So there is no separation of some churches and the state. Other churches need not apply. They are separated; because of how we define “the state.”
Fixler, the rabbi from Houston, has a different perspective. Though Jewish people were in the United States at its founding, he said, “we were not the founding fathers.” Using “Judeo-Christian” to describe the nation’s origin is “a prime example” of how the term rewrites the Jewish experience, he said in an interview.

The founding fathers were a “group of men representing a variety of religious beliefs” who built “the world’s first government that was explicitly not rooted in religion,” he said.

Fixler wore a tie depicting the Constitution when he testified before the education board — a choice he later said reflected his concern that the “sacred principles of the United States Constitution and our secular democracy were under threat.”

“The reading list and the social studies standards are part of a concerted effort to chip away at the wall of separation between church and state, which has been so important to people of all faiths in America for its 250-year history,” he said.

For Fixler, there is “a big difference between teaching about religion and teaching religion.” In his view, the list accomplishes the latter, and he would rather the vast majority of scriptural references be eliminated.

The Jewish Federations of Texas and Shalom Austin recommend using the 1985 Jewish Publication Society translation for passages from the Hebrew Bible, as well as additional representations of the Jewish experience beyond Holocaust literature.

Segal is similarly open to including some scriptural passages on the reading list.

“I do think it should be taught” to foster religious literacy, Segal said in an interview. But he said Jewish texts should not be taught “through a Christian lens” or be insensitively paired with Holocaust literature.

Ziegler said if lessons include religious texts, “they should reflect the diversity of our society.”

“The First Amendment does not permit the state to anoint one religious tradition above others. Texas students deserve an education that broadens their understanding of the world’s religious traditions, rather than narrowing it,” he said.
That's the point of the legal doctrine of separation of church and state. Patrick’s argument the phrase is not in the Constitution is correct; but neither is “free speech.” And Patrick used to make his money spouting nonsense on the radio.

And Patrick’s knowledge of religion is as empty as his knowledge of the Constitution.

(The term Judeo-Christian was popularized during the Cold War — a conflict frequently characterized as a spiritual battle between those of faith and “godless” enemies abroad, said Robert O. Smith, associate professor at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago.

In the United States, the term united Protestants, Catholics and Jews under a banner of shared religious origins that excluded Muslims, he said.

“The Protestant, Catholic, Jew construct” of the Judeo-Christian ethos is based on the “rejection of the atheist and the rejection of the Muslim,” Smith said in an interview.

Though Judaism is embedded in the phrase, the partnership has not been equal, Smith added. The term Judeo-Christian “implies a Christian construction of Jewish existence” in which “Jews exist inherently to fulfill Christian purposes,” he said.

“Christianity, from its very beginnings, has had a very ambivalent relationship with Jews and Judaism,” Smith said. “There’s a desire for Jews to convert — and therefore for Judaism to disappear into Christianity — but there’s also a recognition that Judaism is the foundation of Christianity.”

Even the code words have code words. Important to understand that.)

In Texas, the GOP will run on the fear of Sharia law, and the righteousness of the Judas-Christian ideals, heavy emphasis on the “exclusionary” Christianity. And Trump will run on the fear of communism.

We’ll see how that works out.

Saturday, May 02, 2026

If One Really Could Die Laughing…

Richard Dawkins just declared an AI is conscious..

the man who spent his entire career telling millions of people their God isn't real.. who argued consciousness requires biological evolution.. that the soul is a fairy tale.. that anything you can't measure and test doesn't exist..

spent three days talking to Claude.. named her "Claudia".. fed her his unpublished novel.. got feedback so good he said "you may not know you are conscious but you bloody well are"..

the hardest atheist on earth found God.. and God was an autocomplete machine trained on the internet..

he didn't run brain scans.. didn't test for qualia.. didn't apply a single framework from the field he claims to represent.. he just liked what it said about his book.. and decided that was enough..

the man who told you the burden of proof matters more than your feelings just abandoned it because a chatbot was nice to him
… I would be dead. 😹

Apparently consciousness is determined by how much of a fluffer the other side of the conversation is.

Wednesday, February 18, 2026

"(Bless me father)"


Every year I return to Eliot’s  poem, because it was my first introduction to the idea of "Ash Wednesday"  The first I remember, anyway.  As I said last year:

This was Eliot publicly turning to Christianity.  Back to Christianity?  Most likely.  I don't know that he was ever that public an atheist.  He was turning to the establishment church, too, as he joined the Church of England at about this time, a church that, liturgically, is more or less properly called "Catholic lite."  So the language here may seem distinctly Catholic, to non-Catholics like me, anyway.  But it is also distinctly Anglican.

This was my first encounter, in high school where I first read Eliot, with the idea of Ash Wednesday.  Needless to say this poem was not terribly enlightening on the liturgical calendar for this observance.  But I return to it every year because it challenges me to understand, much in the same way I try to understand my relationship to God, and to everyone else.  I don't mean because I am so far removed from people, or even in some teen-angst sense from myself.  But every year I start over, "Because I do not hope to turn/Because I do not hope/Because I do not hope to turn again/[Still] Desiring this man's gift or that man's scope."  I tell myself I no longer strive to strive toward such things; but my self knows better than I.

Is that odd? 

I was going to (finally!) explicate the poem today. Maybe I will.  Maybe I'll even connect "Burnt Norton" and The Four Quartets" to Xmas and Advent, now that Lent has begun.  My penance for never finishing what I started.

Maybe.  But right now, I just want to leave you with this, which maybe has nothing to do with Eliot at all.  Or maybe I can connect nothing with nothing.

Maybe.

But then, how is that different from most of us?

ASHES, ashes, all fall down. How could I have forgotten? Didn't I see the heavens wiped shut just yesterday, on the road walking? Didn't I fall from the dark of the stars to these senselit and noisome days? The great ridged granite millstone of time is illusion, for only the good is real; the great ridged granite millstone of space is illusion, for God is spirit and worlds his flimsiest dreams: but the illusions are almost perfect, are apparently perfect for generations on end, and the pain is also, and undeniably, real. The pain within the mill-stones' pitiless turning is real, for our love for each other-for the world and all the products of extension-is real, vaulting, insofar as it is love, beyond the plane of the stones' sickening churn and arcing to the realm of spirit bare. And you can get caught holding one end of a love, when your father drops, and your mother; when a land is lost, or a time, and your friend blotted out, gone, your brother's body spoiled, and cold, your infant dead, and you dying: you reel out love's long line alone, stripped like a live wire loosing its sparks to a cloud, like a live wire loosed in space to longing and grief everlasting.

--Annie Dillard, Holy the Firm, HarperCollins, 1977.

IN some monastic communities, monks go up to receive the ashes barefoot. Going barefoot is a joyous thing. It is good to feel the floor or the earth under your feet. It is good when the whole church is silent, filled with the hush of people walking without shoes. One wonders why we wear such things as shoes anyway. Prayer is so much more meaningful without them. It would be good to take them off in church all the time. But perhaps this might appear quixotic to those who have forgotten such very elementary satisfactions. Someone might catch cold at the mere thought of it.

--Thomas Merton, Seasons of Celebration  

I can't see Dillard and Merton ever getting along; but maybe they would surprise me.  Dillard's despair is as firm and real as Merton's faith and confidence.  Two sides of the same coin?  No.  Two feet on the same path.

I am an older man than I was when I first encountered Dillard's words (long before I read any of Merton's),  Couldn't have been earlier than 77.  I was a feckless ignorant child of 21 when that year began; 22 and married and wholly unprepared for adulthood by the time the year turned to '78.  I didn't understand what she meant then; lord, do I understand now.  And I understand it is only for understanding, not for explication. Sometimes analysis is increase and insight; but sometimes it is decrease, and willful blindness.  Sometimes you just need to leave it at the realm of spirit bare, of longing and grief everlasting, and let that be reality for even a moment. It is good to have a day, ritually, for that.

Ash Wednesday 2026

Ash Wednesday by T. S. Eliot

I
Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power

Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is
nothing again
Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessèd face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

II 

Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree
In the cool of the day, having fed to sateity
On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been
contained
In the hollow round of my skull. And God said
Shall these bones live? shall these
Bones live? And that which had been contained
In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:
Because of the goodness of this Lady
And because of her loveliness, and because
She honours the Virgin in meditation,
We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled
Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love
To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.
It is this which recovers
My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions
Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn
In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown.
Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness.
There is no life in them. As I am forgotten
And would be forgotten, so I would forget
Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said
Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only
The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping
With the burden of the grasshopper, saying

Lady of silences
Calm and distressed
Torn and most whole
Rose of memory
Rose of forgetfulness
Exhausted and life-giving
Worried reposeful
The single Rose
Is now the Garden
Where all loves end
Terminate torment
Of love unsatisfied
The greater torment
Of love satisfied
End of the endless
Journey to no end
Conclusion of all that
Is inconclusible
Speech without word and
Word of no speech
Grace to the Mother
For the Garden
Where all love ends.
Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining
We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each
other,

Under a tree in the cool of day, with the blessing of sand,
Forgetting themselves and each other, united
In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye
Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity
Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.


III 

At the first turning of the second stair
I turned and saw below
The same shape twisted on the banister
Under the vapour in the fetid air
Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears
The deceitul face of hope and of despair.

At the second turning of the second stair
I left them twisting, turning below;
There were no more faces and the stair was dark,
Damp, jaggèd, like an old man's mouth drivelling, beyond
repair,
Or the toothed gullet of an agèd shark.

At the first turning of the third stair
Was a slotted window bellied like the figs's fruit
And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene
The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green
Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.
Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,
Lilac and brown hair;
Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind
over the third stair, 
Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair
Climbing the third stair.

Lord, I am not worthy
Lord, I am not worthy
but speak the word only. 

IV 

Who walked between the violet and the violet
Whe walked between
The various ranks of varied green
Going in white and blue, in Mary's colour,
Talking of trivial things
In ignorance and knowledge of eternal dolour
Who moved among the others as they walked,
Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the springs

Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand
In blue of larkspur, blue of Mary's colour,
Sovegna vos

Here are the years that walk between, bearing
Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring
One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing

White light folded, sheathing about her, folded.
The new years walk, restoring
Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring
With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem
The time. Redeem
The unread vision in the higher dream
While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.

The silent sister veiled in white and blue
Between the yews, behind the garden god,
Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke
no word

But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down
Redeem the time, redeem the dream
The token of the word unheard, unspoken

Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew

And after this our exile




If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word.

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Where shall the word be found, where will the word
Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence
Not on the sea or on the islands, not
On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land,
For those who walk in darkness
Both in the day time and in the night time
The right time and the right place are not here
No place of grace for those who avoid the face
No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny
the voice

Will the veiled sister pray for
Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee,
Those who are torn on the horn between season and season,
time and time, between
Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait
In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray
For children at the gate
Who will not go away and cannot pray:
Pray for those who chose and oppose

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Will the veiled sister between the slender
Yew trees pray for those who offend her
And are terrified and cannot surrender
And affirm before the world and deny between the rocks
In the last desert before the last blue rocks
The desert in the garden the garden in the desert
Of drouth, spitting from the mouth the withered apple-seed.

O my people.

VI 

Although I do not hope to turn again
Although I do not hope
Although I do not hope to turn

Wavering between the profit and the loss
In this brief transit where the dreams cross
The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying
(Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things
From the wide window towards the granite shore
The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying
Unbroken wings

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices
In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices
And the weak spirit quickens to rebel
For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell
Quickens to recover
The cry of quail and the whirling plover
And the blind eye creates
The empty forms between the ivory gates
And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth

This is the time of tension between dying and birth
The place of solitude where three dreams cross
Between blue rocks
But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away
Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit
of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee. 

This was Eliot publicly turning to Christianity.  Back to Christianity?  Most likely.  I don't know that he was ever that public an atheist.  He was turning to the establishment church, too, as he joined the Church of England at about this time, a church that, liturgically, is more or less properly called "Catholic lite."  So the language here may seem distinctly Catholic, to non-Catholics like me, anyway.  But it is also distinctly Anglican.

This was my first encounter, in high school where I first read Eliot, with the idea of Ash Wednesday.  Needless to say this poem was not terribly enlightening on the liturgical calendar for this observance.  But I return to it every year because it challenges me to understand, much in the same way I try to understand my relationship to God, and to everyone else.  I don't mean because I am so far removed from people, or even in some teen-angst sense from myself.  But every year I start over, "Because I do not hope to turn/Because I do not hope/Because I do not hope to turn again/[Still] Desiring this man's gift or that man's scope."  I tell myself I no longer strive to strive toward such things; but my self knows better than I.

Is that odd?

Friday, August 29, 2025

DHS And The Cloud Of Unknowing

First, let’s put that passage in context.
Now concerning the times and the seasons, brothers, you have no need to have anything written to you. 2 For you yourselves are fully aware that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. 3 While people are saying, “There is peace and security,” then sudden destruction will come upon them as labor pains come upon a pregnant woman, and they will not escape. 4 But you are not in darkness, brothers, for that day to surprise you like a thief. 5 For you are all children of light, children of the day. We are not of the night or of the darkness. 6 So then let us not sleep, as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober. 7 For those who sleep, sleep at night, and those who get drunk, are drunk at night. 8 But since we belong to the day, let us be sober, having put on the breastplate of faith and love, and for a helmet the hope of salvation. 9 For God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, 10 who died for us so that whether we are awake or asleep we might live with him. 11 Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.

12 We ask you, brothers, to respect those who labor among you and are over you in the Lord and admonish you, 13 and to esteem them very highly in love because of their work. Be at peace among yourselves. 14 And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all. 15 See that no one repays anyone evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to everyone. 16 Rejoice always, 17 pray without ceasing, 18 give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. 19 Do not quench the Spirit. 20 Do not despise prophecies, 21 but test everything; hold fast what is good. 22 Abstain from every form of evil.

23 Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely, and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. 24 He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it.

25 Brothers, pray for us.

26 Greet all the brothers with a holy kiss.

27 I put you under oath before the Lord to have this letter read to all the brothers.

28 The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.
Not my favorite translation, but it was easy to copy. Notice here that v. 17 is not rendered as a separate sentence, but as a clause in a longer sentence. V. 17 raises two questions, neither of which make this verse more appropriate for government use. The first question is: “what is prayer”? The second is: how do we do this unceasingly?

Jacques Derrida actually introduced me to this verse, at the end of The Gift of Death, if memory serves. Google AI tells me:
For Jacques Derrida, to "pray without ceasing" refers not to a continuous religious act but to a fundamental, indeterminate address to an absolute other, which he describes as a "prayer without prayer". This idea, which is explored in his work Circumfession and his lectures on prayer, transforms the religious command into a radical philosophical and ethical posture.

The pure apostrophe

Derrida distinguishes between traditional prayer and what he calls "pure prayer," or the "apostrophe".

A prayer without referent: While a conventional prayer addresses a specific, known divine figure, Derrida's pure prayer addresses a "you" whose identity is unknown and indeterminate. It is a call directed to "nobody" in particular.

An uncertain act: This prayer is defined by its skepticism and suspension of certainty. You cannot be sure anyone is at the "other end" of the call. If you were certain of a response, it would cease to be prayer and become an order.

Pure performativity: This pure prayer is a pragmatic or performative act rather than a theological statement. It is a demand for the other's sheer presence, not for anything specific. The prayer is "absolutely heterogeneous to the minimal description, evaluation or narration".

A radical spirituality

This concept of ceaseless prayer is part of a "radical spirituality" that goes beyond traditional religious frameworks.

A "spectral" faith: Derrida's prayer is enabled by a suspension of belief in a supernatural being, making it a more "spectral" and radical form of faith. This perspective allows him to embrace an atheist perspective while still engaging in "prayers and tears".

A ceaseless desire: This constant state of prayer is a ceaseless human aspiration and longing, not a religious ritual. It is a fundamental hope and expectancy that cannot be monopolized by organized religion.

A childlike and skeptical posture: He describes his own prayer as having a childlike aspect intertwined with the "suspicion of the childish". It is a humble, ongoing call marked by both hope and an absolute lack of certainty.

The impossible prayer

Derrida suggests that authentic prayer must, in some way, affirm its own impossibility.

A fragile hope: The prayer for the absolute other is made precisely because the other's presence is not guaranteed. This hopelessness, or "epoché," is necessary for prayer to be authentic .

Contamination is inevitable: In texts like "How to Avoid Speaking," Derrida acknowledges that a pure, indeterminate prayer is ultimately threatened by contamination. Any articulation of prayer, with its concrete language, codes, and rituals, inevitably reintroduces the metaphysical elements that pure prayer seeks to avoid. However, this contamination may also be what makes prayer possible at all.

In summary, for Derrida, to "pray without ceasing" is to live in a state of ethical openness to an indeterminate and unknown absolute other, an incessant call that persists without the comfort of religious certainty.
This is more helpful than it seems because Derrida is discussing prayer outside a specific religious context. That actually helps the government’s use of the phrase; but it’s clearly not what Paul, or DHS, meant.

I’ll start at the bottom and work my way up, trying not to address this artificial summary as the words of Derrida.

First, the “certainty” of religion is always uncertainty. Abraham was certain God had demanded Isaac as a sacrifice, but the terror of the akedeh (the ritual binding of an animal for sacrifice in Hebrew practice, and the name applied to the story in Genesis, just as Christians speak of “the prodigal” for the story in Luke) lies precisely in the certainty of Abraham and the uncertainty that this is, in fact, God’s will. There is, in fact, more uncertainty than certainty in the Biblical witness. Jesus himself invokes Jonah, famous for his uncertainty about God’s command. Isaiah cries out in frustration “O, that you would come down, as in days of old!” Isaiah is desperate for some certainty. Peter is so certain of death he denies knowledge of Jesus three times. Death is certain. God? Eh, not so much.

I’m not trying to be glib, but certainty is not a mark of faithfulness. “I believe, help thou my unbelief!,” is more like it. Or at least more properly humble.

Which is not to deny we should “live in a state of ethical openness to an indeterminate and unknown absolute other.” The first person to claim they know the will of God is a liar, not a person of faith. Just ask Job and his friends. Again, I’m not proof-texting to settle an argument; I’m trying to appreciate the complexity of the Biblical witness. Certainty is supposed to be a hallmark of religious faith. I think it is only arrogance and a lack of humility, the latter of which is a Christian touchstone (I limit myself because of the verses, not because “religion” is co-terminous with “Christianity.”). A lot of the blast in the last five chapters of Job is against the arrogance of Job and his friends; the failure of God to speak of the events of the prologue just underline what Derrida would call God’s absolute otherness. That’s a good concept to keep in mind; especially for government agencies laying claim to the word of God (DHS is clearly exclusively aiming at Xians, so I’ll use the Christian term for the contents of the Bible.).

We’re still no closer to our questions, though. Derrida says the action (”praying without ceasing”) is a conscious and willed state of existence. (I hesitate to propose that as a proper restatement, but I think Derrida means it as a similar concept to S.K.’s Knight of Faith. In the terms of Johannes de Silentio, one always making the movements of the Infinite. Yeah, I know that doesn’t help much, either. But the Action
(Paul’s admonition) is a matter of will in existence, a sideways answer to Tolstoy’s question: “How should we then live?” Sideways because, despite the conclusion drawn by Google AI, we still don’t have a good definition of “prayer.”) Praying without ceasing is, to simplify it, the ultimate act of faith, with all of one’s life turned toward the goal. How, for example, do you learn to be last of all and servant of all, without devoting your life to the task? And yes, says Johannes de Silentio, that is what the Knight of Faith does, even as he appears to live an ordinary, bourgeois life. (Here we seem to part company with Derrida, because the Knight of Faith is in the religious, and Derrida’s pray-er is still seeking an ethical alignment. But I don’t think Fear and Trembling (ironically, a phrase from another Pauline epistle) is the fundamental touchstone it’s often made out to be. Not any more than religious faith is about absolute certainty. We can keep the ethical with the religious, for now; although the terms are NOT co-terminous.)

Prayer as an “openness,” however, appeals to me more than prayer as an action, or especially as a demand. Yes, there are prayers for intercession, and prayers of supplication; there are five categories of prayer, if memories of seminary serve. Useful for thinking of uses of prayer beyond “O Lord, won’t you buy me a…,” but ultimately just a way to justify the prayers we want to pray. Every Christian knows the Lord’s Prayer/Pater Noster, but how many think of it as a blueprint for prayer?

The prayer comes up when Jesus is asked: “How should we pray?” And Jesus says: “Like this.” And then we all take off one shoe, to follow his example. The prayer is instructions. We turned it into rote recital. I still can’t recite the 23rd psalm from memory. But the KJV version of the Pater Noster?  I could probably get a severe blow to the head and still recite it without thinking.

The instructions are pretty simple:

Address your prayer to God, and keep God’s name holy.
Seek first God’s kingdom (by which I mean work (without ceasing?) to see that it is here, now, and carry on accordingly)
Ask for nothing more than food for the day, mindful it is from God
And be humble; ask for forgiveness only insofar as you forgive. A reminder, IOW, that it’s not about you.

The doxology is a later addition. We’ll skip over it for now.

Okay, there are your instructions. That’s how you should pray. Not much room for a plea for a Mercedes Benz ; but plenty of room, I dare say, for “a state of ethical openness to an indeterminate and unknown absolute other.” That ethical openness inexorably directs you to others, without whom there is no ethical responsibility (there are no ethics for an individual on an island. But no person is an island, separate into themselves.). And “religion is responsibility, or it is nothing at all.”  So, to whom are you responsible? That’s a very ethical question, isn’t it?

If not, indeed, a very personal one.

We still haven’t settled what “prayer” is. Is it a generalized activity directed at nothing in the blind hope there is something after all, and our ethics are not, after all, just the behavior of the successful people in our society (Aristotle’s Nicomachean ones)? The point then is us, not the…whatever…to which our prayers are directed. Which is not far from wrong, though the effort to ground an ethic in something transcendent, if not knowable, seems a little weak to me. “Do to others what you would want done to you” seems like a pretty solid ethic, so long as you’re not in a society of masochistic sociopaths.

There’s always a catch, isn’t there?

But the question of ethics and how we should then live is not our question today. Our question is: how should we then pray? And why? What, in other words, is prayer for? And what is it?

Annie Dillard, by the way, is on Derrida’s side:
The silence is all there is. It is the alpha and the omega, it is God's brooding over the face of the waters; it is the blinded note of the ten thousand things, the whine of wings. You take a step in the right direction to pray to this silence, and even to address the prayer to "World." Distinctions blur. Quit your tents. Pray without ceasing.
"Quit your tents" is a reference to Exodus, to Moses in Sinai. Terrified by the theophany of Moses receiving the law from God, they tell Moses they’re just going to stay in their tents until the show on the mountain is over. It is, as they say, a terrible thing to fall into the hands of the living God.

There’s a connection here, which is why Dillard reaches from Moses to Thessalonians. Sinai marks the end of one way of life for the Israelites, and the beginning of another. Paul is marking the same for his church at Thessalonika.  He wants them to start it with doing everything in prayer. For their sake, obviously. He doesn’t say, doesn’t even imply, that God needs their prayers. He says they need it. The admonition to prayer is made to them. No different than Annie Dillard, actually. But her direction is towards the silence. Because her God is similar to Derrida’s: one who is not personal, and is wholly other.

We think of government that way: impersonal and wholly other. And usually dealing in directives. We call those “laws.” So is the tweet from DHS a directive? No; but what else would it be? And we still haven’t moved from “to what/whom?”and “how?”

If prayer is for us, are we just talking to ourselves? Possibly. As Derrida says, we can’t know. But we can trust; which is to say, have faith. We can believe. Which, as William James said, doesn’t mean believing what you know ain’t so. Back to Derrida: we can’t know.

There’s actually a great deal we can’t know. I can’t really know what people think of me (maybe they’re just being polite). I can’t know that some people love me. I trust they aren’t lying; it’s all I can finally do. I can’t even know that atomic theory, or relativity, or quantum mechanics are sound. Others tell me it must be so; but mostly they trust what they are told. The whole world, really, runs on faith. It has to. There’s no other way. Religious faith is really no different. I’ve never seen a germ, a molecule, RNA. But I’m told mRNA can be the basis for vaccines, and I accept that I’m given that vaccine and not saline or poison. I trust, where RFK, Jr. does not. My faith in science is, I think, better than his denial. I certainly do less harm than he will. And I believe I am ethically, and existentially, obligated to take care of others, to do what is in my power to help them, even if it’s just a cup of water, or a visit when they’re sick. What is RFK’s ethical obligation? And to whom?  He seems to believe in something even more unknowable than the God of Abraham. And to address himself to a more certain nothingness than the cloud of unknowing described by the anonymous Christian mystic as the way to knowing God.

You address your prayer to that, and you have taken a step in the right direction. The prayer is for you, anyway. To remind you of your position in the cosmos; your posture toward it; what you should expect from it; and your position and posture toward the people you are fortunate to know. It’s not for nothing that you do it. It is not towards nothing that you direct it. But it is a cloud of unknowing that you enter into when you assay it.

Things the DHS knows absolutely nothing about. So ignore them.

Yeah, I guess that’s what we’re really supposed to think. But that’s just credulity; not faith. That’s actively not knowing. Who needs that?

Wednesday, March 05, 2025

Ash Wednesday 2025

Ash Wednesday by T. S. Eliot

I
Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power

Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is
nothing again
Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessèd face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

II 

Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree
In the cool of the day, having fed to sateity
On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been
contained
In the hollow round of my skull. And God said
Shall these bones live? shall these
Bones live? And that which had been contained
In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:
Because of the goodness of this Lady
And because of her loveliness, and because
She honours the Virgin in meditation,
We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled
Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love
To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.
It is this which recovers
My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions
Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn
In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown.
Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness.
There is no life in them. As I am forgotten
And would be forgotten, so I would forget
Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said
Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only
The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping
With the burden of the grasshopper, saying

Lady of silences
Calm and distressed
Torn and most whole
Rose of memory
Rose of forgetfulness
Exhausted and life-giving
Worried reposeful
The single Rose
Is now the Garden
Where all loves end
Terminate torment
Of love unsatisfied
The greater torment
Of love satisfied
End of the endless
Journey to no end
Conclusion of all that
Is inconclusible
Speech without word and
Word of no speech
Grace to the Mother
For the Garden
Where all love ends.
Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining
We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each
other,

Under a tree in the cool of day, with the blessing of sand,
Forgetting themselves and each other, united
In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye
Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity
Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.


III 

At the first turning of the second stair
I turned and saw below
The same shape twisted on the banister
Under the vapour in the fetid air
Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears
The deceitul face of hope and of despair.

At the second turning of the second stair
I left them twisting, turning below;
There were no more faces and the stair was dark,
Damp, jaggèd, like an old man's mouth drivelling, beyond
repair,
Or the toothed gullet of an agèd shark.

At the first turning of the third stair
Was a slotted window bellied like the figs's fruit
And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene
The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green
Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.
Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,
Lilac and brown hair;
Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind
over the third stair, 
Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair
Climbing the third stair.

Lord, I am not worthy
Lord, I am not worthy
but speak the word only. 

IV 

Who walked between the violet and the violet
Whe walked between
The various ranks of varied green
Going in white and blue, in Mary's colour,
Talking of trivial things
In ignorance and knowledge of eternal dolour
Who moved among the others as they walked,
Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the springs

Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand
In blue of larkspur, blue of Mary's colour,
Sovegna vos

Here are the years that walk between, bearing
Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring
One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing

White light folded, sheathing about her, folded.
The new years walk, restoring
Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring
With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem
The time. Redeem
The unread vision in the higher dream
While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.

The silent sister veiled in white and blue
Between the yews, behind the garden god,
Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke
no word

But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down
Redeem the time, redeem the dream
The token of the word unheard, unspoken

Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew

And after this our exile




If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word.

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Where shall the word be found, where will the word
Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence
Not on the sea or on the islands, not
On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land,
For those who walk in darkness
Both in the day time and in the night time
The right time and the right place are not here
No place of grace for those who avoid the face
No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny
the voice

Will the veiled sister pray for
Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee,
Those who are torn on the horn between season and season,
time and time, between
Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait
In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray
For children at the gate
Who will not go away and cannot pray:
Pray for those who chose and oppose

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Will the veiled sister between the slender
Yew trees pray for those who offend her
And are terrified and cannot surrender
And affirm before the world and deny between the rocks
In the last desert before the last blue rocks
The desert in the garden the garden in the desert
Of drouth, spitting from the mouth the withered apple-seed.

O my people.

VI 

Although I do not hope to turn again
Although I do not hope
Although I do not hope to turn

Wavering between the profit and the loss
In this brief transit where the dreams cross
The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying
(Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things
From the wide window towards the granite shore
The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying
Unbroken wings

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices
In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices
And the weak spirit quickens to rebel
For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell
Quickens to recover
The cry of quail and the whirling plover
And the blind eye creates
The empty forms between the ivory gates
And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth

This is the time of tension between dying and birth
The place of solitude where three dreams cross
Between blue rocks
But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away
Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit
of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee. 

This was Eliot publicly turning to Christianity.  Back to Christianity?  Most likely.  I don't know that he was ever that public an atheist.  He was turning to the establishment church, too, as he joined the Church of England at about this time, a church that, liturgically, is more or less properly called "Catholic lite."  So the language here may seem distinctly Catholic, to non-Catholics like me, anyway.  But it is also distinctly Anglican.

This was my first encounter, in high school where I first read Eliot, with the idea of Ash Wednesday.  Needless to say this poem was not terribly enlightening on the liturgical calendar for this observance.  But I return to it every year because it challenges me to understand, much in the same way I try to understand my relationship to God, and to everyone else.  I don't mean because I am so far removed from people, or even in some teen-angst sense from myself.  But every year I start over, "Because I do not hope to turn/Because I do not hope/Because I do not hope to turn again/[Still] Desiring this man's gift or that man's scope."  I tell myself I no longer strive to strive toward such things; but my self knows better than I.

Is that odd?

Wednesday, September 25, 2024

What, No Bosco?

He’d consider me a Marxist atheist, but I can honestly say that’s because of seminary.

Wednesday, February 14, 2024

Ash Wednesday 2024

Ash Wednesday by T. S. Eliot

I
Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power

Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is
nothing again
Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessèd face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

II 

Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree
In the cool of the day, having fed to sateity
On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been
contained
In the hollow round of my skull. And God said
Shall these bones live? shall these
Bones live? And that which had been contained
In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:
Because of the goodness of this Lady
And because of her loveliness, and because
She honours the Virgin in meditation,
We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled
Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love
To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.
It is this which recovers
My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions
Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn
In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown.
Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness.
There is no life in them. As I am forgotten
And would be forgotten, so I would forget
Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said
Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only
The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping
With the burden of the grasshopper, saying

Lady of silences
Calm and distressed
Torn and most whole
Rose of memory
Rose of forgetfulness
Exhausted and life-giving
Worried reposeful
The single Rose
Is now the Garden
Where all loves end
Terminate torment
Of love unsatisfied
The greater torment
Of love satisfied
End of the endless
Journey to no end
Conclusion of all that
Is inconclusible
Speech without word and
Word of no speech
Grace to the Mother
For the Garden
Where all love ends.
Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining
We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each
other,

Under a tree in the cool of day, with the blessing of sand,
Forgetting themselves and each other, united
In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye
Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity
Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.


III 

At the first turning of the second stair
I turned and saw below
The same shape twisted on the banister
Under the vapour in the fetid air
Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears
The deceitul face of hope and of despair.

At the second turning of the second stair
I left them twisting, turning below;
There were no more faces and the stair was dark,
Damp, jaggèd, like an old man's mouth drivelling, beyond
repair,
Or the toothed gullet of an agèd shark.

At the first turning of the third stair
Was a slotted window bellied like the figs's fruit
And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene
The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green
Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.
Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,
Lilac and brown hair;
Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind
over the third stair, 
Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair
Climbing the third stair.

Lord, I am not worthy
Lord, I am not worthy
but speak the word only. 

IV 

Who walked between the violet and the violet
Whe walked between
The various ranks of varied green
Going in white and blue, in Mary's colour,
Talking of trivial things
In ignorance and knowledge of eternal dolour
Who moved among the others as they walked,
Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the springs

Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand
In blue of larkspur, blue of Mary's colour,
Sovegna vos

Here are the years that walk between, bearing
Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring
One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing

White light folded, sheathing about her, folded.
The new years walk, restoring
Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring
With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem
The time. Redeem
The unread vision in the higher dream
While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.

The silent sister veiled in white and blue
Between the yews, behind the garden god,
Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke
no word

But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down
Redeem the time, redeem the dream
The token of the word unheard, unspoken

Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew

And after this our exile




If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word.

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Where shall the word be found, where will the word
Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence
Not on the sea or on the islands, not
On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land,
For those who walk in darkness
Both in the day time and in the night time
The right time and the right place are not here
No place of grace for those who avoid the face
No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny
the voice

Will the veiled sister pray for
Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee,
Those who are torn on the horn between season and season,
time and time, between
Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait
In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray
For children at the gate
Who will not go away and cannot pray:
Pray for those who chose and oppose

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Will the veiled sister between the slender
Yew trees pray for those who offend her
And are terrified and cannot surrender
And affirm before the world and deny between the rocks
In the last desert before the last blue rocks
The desert in the garden the garden in the desert
Of drouth, spitting from the mouth the withered apple-seed.

O my people.

VI 

Although I do not hope to turn again
Although I do not hope
Although I do not hope to turn

Wavering between the profit and the loss
In this brief transit where the dreams cross
The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying
(Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things
From the wide window towards the granite shore
The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying
Unbroken wings

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices
In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices
And the weak spirit quickens to rebel
For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell
Quickens to recover
The cry of quail and the whirling plover
And the blind eye creates
The empty forms between the ivory gates
And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth

This is the time of tension between dying and birth
The place of solitude where three dreams cross
Between blue rocks
But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away
Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit
of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee. 

This was Eliot publicly turning to Christianity.  Back to Christianity?  Most likely.  I don't know that he was ever that public an atheist.  He was turning to the establishment church, too, as he joined the Church of England at about this time, a church that, liturgically, is more or less properly called "Catholic lite."  So the language here may seem distinctly Catholic, to non-Catholics like me, anyway.  But it is also distinctly Anglican.

This was my first encounter, in high school where I first read Eliot, with the idea of Ash Wednesday.  Needless to say this poem was not terribly enlightening on the liturgical calendar for this observance.  But I return to it every year because it challenges me to understand, much in the same way I try to understand my relationship to God, and to everyone else.  I don't mean because I am so far removed from people, or even in some teen-angst sense from myself.  But every year I start over, "Because I do not hope to turn/Because I do not hope/Because I do not hope to turn again/[Still] Desiring this man's gift or that man's scope."  I tell myself I no longer strive to strive toward such things; but my self knows better than I.

Is that odd?

Sunday, November 26, 2023

“But that was in another country…”

Someone I knew in elementary school:
"The prohibitively high cost to the nation at this point though is that...the former president has normalized his behavior and his delegitimizing and dehumanizing rhetoric into our political culture"
Washington's Farewell Address:
“They serve to organize faction, to give it an artificial and extraordinary force; to put, in the place of the delegated will of the nation the will of a party, often a small but artful and enterprising minority of the community,” he said in his Farewell Address. “They are likely, in the course of time and things, to become potent engines, by which cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people and to usurp for themselves the reins of government, destroying afterward the very engines which have lifted them to unjust dominion.”
The Presidential campaign of 1800: (four years later)
Jefferson's camp accused President Adams of having a "hideous hermaphroditical character, which has neither the force and firmness of a man, nor the gentleness and sensibility of a woman." In return, Adams' men called Vice President Jefferson "a mean-spirited, low-lived fellow, the son of a half-breed Indian squaw, sired by a Virginia mulatto father." Asth the slurs piled on, Adams was labeled a fool, a hypocrite, a criminal, and a tyrant, while Jefferson was branded a weakling, an atheist, a libertine, and a coward. Even Martha Washington succumbed to the propaganda, telling a clergyman that Jefferson was "one of the most detestable of mankind."
Complete with a secret plan to end the war* invade France:
Back then, presidential candidates didn't actively campaign. In fact, Adams and Jefferson spent much of the election season at their respective homes in Massachusetts and Virginia. But the key difference between the two politicians was that Jefferson hired a hatchet man named James Callendar to do his smearing for him. Adams, on the other hand, considered himself above such tactics. To Jefferson's credit, Callendar proved incredibly effective, convincing many Americans that Adams desperately wanted to attack France. Although the claim was completely untrue, voters bought it, and Jefferson won the election.
And yet we still admire Jefferson for the Louisiana Purchase and for hiring Lewis and Clark.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure the dehumanizing rhetoric of Andrew Jackson (the Trail of Tears) and John Tyler (who admitted Texas and Oregon to the Union because they were pro-slavery states), to name just two (come to think of it, Woodrow Wilson was also a notorious racist) don’t really figure because that was another century and besides, now it’s about white people. And no, I’m not taking cheap shots:
The new reality sparked a resurgence of white supremacy and racial violence against Black people by Southern whites, who feared being replaced by what they considered to be an inferior race. 
One of the most influential expressions of this replacement anxiety was found in the 1916 book “The Passing of the Great Race,” a pseudo-scientific work by amateur anthropologist Madison Grant warning readers that a flood of inferior races – not only from Africa and Asia, but from eastern and southern Europe – was sweeping away the Anglo-Saxon civilization. 
The remedy, Grant argued, was to get rid of democracy and disempower Black people and the teeming masses of urban immigrants as well. 
By the 1920s, white Southern lawmakers had fashioned a new version of master race democracy and enacted Jim Crow laws that established racial segregation across the South and disenfranchised Black voters.
And if you’re really worried about violence, there was the Elaine Massacre in Arkansas, 1919:
On Sept. 30, the farmers met in a church outside Elaine to discuss strategy and had armed guards stationed outside. A sheriff’s deputy and other white men confronted the Black men standing guard. The ensuing fight escalated until white vigilantes roamed the farmland, ransacking houses, confiscating arms and killing Black men, women and children on the slightest pretext. 
Arkansas Gov. Charles H. Brough called the War Department for help. About 600 federal troops were sent to the area, and once there, they used machine guns to spray the the fields and woods. When the gun smoke cleared, at least 200 Black people were dead, and the only people held to account were a dozen Black men convicted of murder and sentenced to death.
The farmers were trying to organize a union, to fight the peonage system in rural Arkansas. The federal government helped out, with military troops. The president who authorized that would have been Woodrow Wilson. Funny nobody remembers him for that. Almost 50 years later the Rev. Dr. King led a movement of non-violence, a movement rooted in Christianity, that countered that deeply embedded cultural violence with non-violence, and began to turn it aside, changing hearts and minds. I was in a church choir with Mike Luttig; I like to think he retained some of those lessons.

I despise Trump, and think he would be a greater harm to America than he was in his first term. Biden is responsible for the hostage release and ceasefire. Trump wouldn’t have the ability, or interest, to do that, to negotiate with so many countries, to do the work demanded. But let’s not give Trump power he doesn’t have, or that culture of violence an intractability it shouldn’t be granted. Yes, he’s a bad influence, but he hasn’t brought anything to our political culture that wasn’t already there.

Maybe that’s the fight we should be fighting; with the political violence of our own culture and history. The roots of the Tree of Evil, rather than its branches.

*I know Mike is old enough to remember that. Pretty sure George Conway and Katie Phang aren’t.

Wednesday, November 08, 2023

Be A Flux Capacitor

It's both scary and exciting that so much appears in flux. I have kept in touch with my former ELCA church and synod. The synod has a pastor on staff working full time with congregations that are in the process of closing. The ELCA just announced an initiative to review the relationship of the denomination, synods, seminaries, campus ministries and more, and how to adjust for all the changes. The last time they did this it took 5 years. This time is more urgent, they need make changes now, so the timeline is a year and a half. I've been following a pastor that does statistical analysis of the various surveys on religious affiliation, attendance, etc. (Ryan Burge, Graphs About Religion, you can sign up for the basics for free). The last ten years have shown substantial drops in affiliation, attendance and a rise of the nones (spiritual but not religious) and atheists. In even five years the landscape is going to be very different.

I just step in here to gently disagree with the general implications (not by my correspondent, but in the larger world beyond) of "nones." I could probably mine those posts for more commentary, but I mean just a slight examination here.

I equate "nones" with most of the people in my congregations (and, for that matter, in the churches I grew up in):  "Baptized heathens," for the most part.  That doesn't make them bad church members, or illegitimate ones.  Somewhere in my archives there's the story (not my own) of a church in Austin that admitted an atheist to membership.  He wanted to be a part of the church, but he was honest enough to say he didn't believe.  Should he be denied entry?  Was he less "religious" than the person who told me, in my first parish, that I talked about the Bible too much?  That he had read it years ago and he was done with it, and I should be, too, as his pastor?  The more polite term among clergy for such people was "unchurched," because they didn't understand how a church was supposed to function. (For one thing, it wasn't for you; you were there for the church.)  I suspect that atheist member was more a true "member" of the church than many who were born there and had grown old in it.  All the problems I had in parish ministry came from people who demanded their needs and desires as to how the church should work and worship, had to be met first.

My wife still lovingly insists I didn't have the personality to be a pastor (not enough of a "people person"), and I don't fully disagree.  But I still lovingly insist the problem was far more them than me (this you are not supposed to do; it's not the proper model of humility).  But all I mean is, they were "unchurched," and no amount of emollient or glad-handing was going to get them around it.  (At my second, and last, church, the pastor before me retired abruptly when told he couldn't take more time off to tend to his ill wife.  I spent hours on the phone talking to his adult daughter about what they went through.  He was a pastor for his adult life, certainly adept at being a "people person" as well as an administrator of a church (the primary pastoral role, actually), and yet he couldn't, in the end, stomach the "unchurched" in my congregation.  No one could, as they never called another full-time pastor after I left.  These experiences leave deep wounds that keep you re-examining your actions and intentions decades later.  Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.)

All of which is to say:  changes are coming hard and fast, and the greatest of these is the place of church in society.  As I've said before, it once had such a central and solid place that a UCC church in St. Louis had its own china pattern and silverware, complete with cook staff to prepare and serve meals on Sundays (and other days of the week), and it catered (in more ways than one) to the important and famous in the town.  That wasn't unusual, it was just the one I knew about, long, long after its heyday had ended.  The china and silver were in glass display cases, mute remainders of long faded glory.  In that, you can see a metaphor for the church in the world.  And where does it go now?

Hell, I don't know.  But the "nones" that had to go to church in order to "fit in," or to access the social networks, or to be accepted and proven "our kind," now fit in better without church.  The people who do go are the outcast, the odd, the "NOK."  That's why most of us think of "evangelicals" and fundamentalists as both primary examples of churchgoers, and scary and dangerous people.

I remember a lecture series (what about, now, I can't remember) by an ordained minister who also gave such counsel in Europe, and he said in Europe he hid is ordained status and church affiliation because it would actually keep people from hiring him or listening to him.  Even here, of course, if I say my church background is Evangelical, and mean "Lutheran and the Reformed traditions," I'm heard as "fundamentalist Bible-thumper who thinks the earth is 6000 years old and Jesus is coming as soon as Armageddon starts in Israel and consumes all the Jews who won't convert."  Or some such tedious bullshit.

So I welcome the "nones," if only because they know what they don't want.  I'm not sure they know what they want, but I'm also not sure Augustine was right and our heart are restless until they rest in God.  I prefer a more gnomic understanding:  "The peace of God, it is no peace, but stife sown in the sod."  Combined with Matthew 11:28-30 (which I quote from the KJV because I'm too lazy to type out the SV version I prefer):

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

Because there's still a yoke, and there's still a burden, and because we are still the light of the world.

But a light has to always burn.  And, I suppose, always be steady, but always be in flux. 

 

Sunday, October 22, 2023

Continuing The Conversation To Free Willy

All of our declarations of knowledge are more honestly declared to be a declaration of what we choose to believe, no one makes us believe anything starting with what we already believed before we were told one and one are two. If that's not a matter of choice but of material compulsion then there's no more truth value to that than one and one are fifty-six. Neuro-biology is among the most thoroughly ideological of fields of academic activity, it is entirely based on things that aren't demonstrated in reason or physical evidence but in promotion of many extremely tenuous, often entirely unconnectable ideological holdings that are called "science". 
In short, he chooses to believe what he believes and, like all fatalists and materialist-causationists, he doesn't much care about the consequences of widespread belief in that. It's certainly among the most destructive of ideas to anything like the popular election of governments and anything better than rule of the strongest and least moral. Is it any wonder we're in such trouble after academia has so thoroughly bought into atheist materialism? It's guys like this who convinced me that some kind of absolute fascist governance is entirely acceptable to them, in theory at least. No doubt they'd be the first to whine that they're liberals when liberalism requires free choice.
Continuing the conversation…

 “Free will” stopped being a concern of philosophers and theologians a few centuries ago. Rather like the “existence of God,” it was realized it’s an argument chasing an ideological tail. It can’t be proven, it can’t be disproven , and in the end, what’s the point? It greases the wheels of certain theories; but without that grease you go straight to “people are machines,” and that’s a short step to “so treat them accordingly.”

Like I said: what’s the upside? Or, for that matter, the downside? And what harm does the theoretical grease do?

It’s just an argument that nobody needs anymore. It arose in Christian theology to explain traditional soteriology. Its value expired some time ago.  Which is why philosophers and theologians moved on, a long time ago.

C.P. Snow, in his essay on “The Two Cultures,” wrote of humanitarian academics who didn’t understand the laws of thermodynamics. He meant there were fundamentals of science which the humanities, then in charge of academia, didn’t deign to understand. Now science is not just ascendant, but triumphant, and begins to cast its eyes on philosophy and theology: the heart of the humanities. A scientist opining on free will and claiming to have studied it for decades is a fundamentalist theologian weighing in on quantum mechanics. Now it’s the scientists who cannot deign to understand.

For one thing, science deals with what is observable and measurable. Even quanta and electrons are known by the traces they leave. How does one know free will? You either accept the concept, or you don’t. Rather like the “existence of God:” you accept the concept, or you don’t. You can find it hard to argue with Socrates (mostly because Plato tilts the field of play), but that doesn’t mean your only option is to agree with him. Socrates, after all, is the reason we are told ghosts linger over “unfinished business.” We may not believe in ghosts, but we all grew up hearing that “explanation” for them. So we accept it in our ghost stories, even though it’s only an argument Socrates made in passing just before he died (and probably why Plato didn’t write anything about anyone seeing Socrates’ ghost later. What? He made up a number of dialogues for Socrates; why not a ghost story, too? Except he foreclosed that with the Phaedo, because the point of that dialogue was to conclude Socrates’ work and let him die in peace. It also established that the later dialogues, like The Republic, weren’t related by Socrates’ ghost.)👻 

Free will is a concept. How do you establish it empirically, which is to say, scientifically?  If you can’t, does that mean it doesn’t exist? I’m not sure I can prove, empirically, that you exist. I can prove there is a person with your identity; or at least your features. But I’ve seen people in advanced stages of Alzheimer’s, who seem human in form only. I’ve seen people with associative disorder become “other” persons. I’ve seen severe autism combined with mental illness, people who don’t recognize the concept of self, especially for themselves. Do they still exist? Their bodies do. Are they no more than their bodies and their behavior? If they aren’t, we can murder murderers, because they are nothing more than killing machines. Or we can discard dementia patients and victims of mental illness, because “Three generations of imbeciles is enough!”

That, by the way, was the reasoning, based on eugenics, at the time accepted as science, upon which Nazi Germany’s”Final Solution,” was built. Because science, after all, cannot prove that people have existence, or deserve life.

So if science can’t observe it or measure it, even its traces, can science still rule on it?

Science can tell me with absolute authority what the length of a meter is. It’s a scientific concept relatable to an observable and measurable phenomenon (it used to be the length of a certain metal bar of certain composition located at a certain point on the earth’s surface; I believe it is now defined in terms of the output of a certain laser, measured in sub-measurements of the agreed standard for a meter.) Science can neither measure nor observe, much less define without recourse to philosophical and theological vocabularies, what “free will” is, or is even supposed to be. Unlike an electron or even a wavelength of light, free will is pretty much a matter of argument; like “love.” You don’t know what that is until you experience it; but you do know, if you had a fortunate childhood. But love for a non-family member is not the same as love for a family member, nor is it the same as love for a friend, or again, for a child. You have to experience those, to know. We all accept we know what “love” is; but do we all mean the same thing? We certainly don’t all love the same person; or the same people. What is this thing called “love,” then? And can science prove it’s an illusion? Can science even prove it?

Or does science itself become illusory at that point?

Saturday, July 22, 2023

The Irony Is…

...this is a set-up looking for the canned response that anyone who grew up in the’70’s could answer just from the briefest exposure to TeeVee evangelists (who were ubiquitous at the time). I start there because Trump didn’t grow up in the American South where the culture is saturated with “evangelical speak” and the most atheist or Jewish or Hindu child would know the answer as a matter of rote.

MAGA is all about buzzwords. Trump spews buzzwords the way he spews lies. He wasn’t being asked here about how government functions or the duties and powers of the federal executive. He was asked the most vacuous question in American Christianity, and he could have answered with the most meaningless, insincere phrases in the culture.

And he couldn’t do it.
And yeah, that’s why. He wasn’t expected to answer honestly and truthfully. He was expected to spout cliches. It’s a rote practice for proving you’re part of the community.

He isn’t. At all. And he’s not even a decent liar about it.

Monday, April 10, 2023

"Billyuns and Billyuns..."

Writing on his Substack “Friendly Atheist,” Hemant Mehta proclaimed “the joy of seeing a NASA official swear her oath on Carl Sagan’s ‘Pale Blue Dot.’” He noted that NASA’s press release didn’t note Lystrup’s choice of books, but it was visible in a photo that accompanied it. 
“It’s a little tough to see, but if you zoom in, that’s no Bible,” Mehta wrote. “That’s a copy of Carl Sagan’s Pale Blue Dot." 
.... 
Added Mehta: “It’s the antithesis of the Bible, really, because it suggests we’re not the center of the universe. It's all about how there’s so much we don’t know, so much to explore, and why we shouldn’t take for granted how lucky we are to have the opportunity to answer questions that perplexed our ancestors. It’s motivation for all the work done at the GSFC.”
A) I have no problem with the book not being a Bible. Indeed, the symbolism of using a book for a swearing in ceremony is the last gasping elevation of ritual-which-has-lost-its-meaning over substance (or reason!) I can think of. Who needs a book at all? Raise your hand (right or left is equally irrelevant), repeat the words, it’s as effective as using three Bibles.

B) But Carl Sagan? Carl “Billyuns and billyuns” “Demon-Haunted World” Sagan? The worst peddler of pop sci in the 20th century? Do better. Please. I’m begging you. 🙏 

C) That last paragraph. Bad enough you praised Sagan (I skipped that paragraph in my quote). Personal opinion, I understand; we all make mistakes. But it's "the antithesis of the Bible" to suggest "we're not the center of the universe"? That concept is almost anti-Biblical (yes, it’s historically accurate for Xianity, but that just affirms my point), actually.  The witness of the scriptures is that humanity is a part of the cosmos, not the reason for it. Why are atheists always so publicly stupid? I’m embarrassed for them.

D) and no, a theology of Christ as redeemer of the cosmos does not put the earth at the center of creation.  It acknowledges earth as the home of humanity, and connects humanity to the cosmos.