This is a post I have been wanting to write for a couple of years. It's a daunting task because the topic is tangled up in everything and I sincerely get overwhelmed just thinking about it, but I am going to try to chip away at it a little at a time. Here is the first strike of the chisel.
The topic is privilege. It is something I didn't devote any thought to for most of my life. Now I see it everywhere and think about it almost every day. I was first introduced to the concept of privilege when one of my grad school professors in 2008 assigned the article, White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack by Peggy McIntosh. I had never thought about most of these things. It had never occurred to me that it might be a strange (invalidating) experience to grow up never seeing representatives of one's own race on prime-time television, or only seeing them in highly stereotyped roles. It never occurred to me that I can "misbehave" in public (bad manners, rowdy behavior, underdressed for an event, or whatever) without worrying that I am not representing my race favorably--or even worse, that people are attributing these traits to my race and not just myself and my own choices.
McIntosh explains it much more eloquently than I can here. But in essence, I have become a true believer in the reality of white privilege, f which I am a frequent beneficiary (despite being only half-white). If I wasn't sure after reading that article, I was certain after attending a talk by Tim Wise at a Baylor event in 2009. He gave a great talk on white privilege, and it doesn't hurt that he reflected on his years in New Orleans at Tulane (I once lived in New Orleans and it remains close to my heart).
Here is the debate as I see it. I call it equality versus reparations. There are those of us who believe that the scoreboard has been wiped clean, or will be any day now, and that all races are now starting from about the same point (no head starts), and so social policy and such should aim for equality. Then, there are those of us who believe that even today, decades after slavery and the state-based implementation of equal rights, even the poorest, most disadvantaged Caucasian still has a leg up over equally-qualified minorities in almost every situation. In other words, the playing board is STILL far from even, and any semblance of "equality" will have to come through reparations or advantages given to minorities.
I am now in the latter group.
This may well be the most liberal, "radical" belief I've ever held. And yes, I know that it may say some incriminating things about my upbringing if I consider this a radical concept. But it totally changed the way I look at the world. I now see all kinds of privilege everywhere:
* Male privilege: You can walk out of your house feeling fairly confident that you won't be bombarded with sexualized, objectifying images of your fellow men, being used to sell everything from cell phones to ad space to hair pomade (you know all those commercials implying that some hot stranger will rub against you like a cat in heat if you use the right hair stuff). I don't have this privilege.
* Female privilege: I can play and roughhouse with small children, even children I hardly know, without people thinking I'm strange or wondering if I'm gay or a pedophile. Men don't have this privilege.
* American privilege: I can enjoy knowing that I live in a country where everyone else in the world wants to be. (I know this isn't accurate but I'm trying to capture the feeling, not the exact stats.) I live within the pop culture (music, movies, clothes, etc.) that much of the world tries to emulate. If this is hard to grasp, I think it might be parallel to how the rest of the country looks upon New Yorkers. Sure, there are always naysayers and people who are content elsewhere, but I think it's agreed that New Yorkers are generally seen as glamorous and in the middle of "where it all happens."
I'm rambling now, but I'll wrap it up with this example of how much I have changed without realizing it. I was hanging out with a friend two months ago, and without thinking I remarked that she posted some racially insensitive things online. Although I didn't say anything like, "You're such a racist!" that is basically how she heard it, and I won't argue that point. She was offended and defensive, and I remember being surprised. I didn't realize that my interpretation of her postings would be considered quite an overreaction, and an inaccurate read on her racial beliefs to boot. She then sarcastically said something like, "I didn't realize that I was over here in a white robe, burning crosses."
I got two things out of that exchange, a reality check for myself and one for people I may encounter in the future. I realized that I have gotten more sensitive, more accusatory, and more self-righteous about the topic of race. There are some jokes I can't laugh at anymore, and other jokes that I laugh at but then feel horribly guilty about. I am learning more, and trying to stand up for what I believe in more, than I ever have. I hope that one day I can state my beliefs more eloquently, respectfully, and approachably. But for now I am going to have to get used to being considered a drag, stick in the mud, hypocrite, Judgy McJudgerson, or just plain deluded and mean and rude.
But the other reality check came in the form of a response to my friend's remark, albeit later and in my head: "Just because you're not in the KKK, that doesn't mean you're not racist." And that thought isn't even directed toward her, because we didn't even get that far in the conversation so I don't intimately know her feelings about race. But there ARE a lot of people who think that's enough--that if you are nice to people of other races, and don't use explicit slurs, and don't pitch a fit when your child dates interracially (and yes, don't burn crosses), that you are doing your part to eradicate racism. BUT THAT IS NOT ENOUGH. Understanding white privilege, and recognizing it when it happens, and perhaps even relinquishing it when you can, might be a good start. This is one of my big goals, and I will be writing about white privilege and other forms of privilege in future entries.
(The word "racist": I would say that I hold some racist views and exhibit some racist behaviors--I think we all do. Nonetheless, I know that it was hurtful to my friend when I implied that she is racist, and it just a testament to her forgiveness that she allowed the incident to pass fairly peacefully, and didn't freak out when I told her I'd be writing this entry. Thank you, friend.)
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Let's be friends (but first, you need a lobotomy)
I’m a liberal. So, naturally, I find all forms of conservatism to be deeply offensive, including but not limited to discrimination, homophobia, warmongering, anti-scientific attitudes, and free market circle-jerks.
If you were to prime my consciousness with the word ‘conservatism’ and hardwire my brain to a dot matrix printer (it seems only obsolete hardware is compatible with my operating system) my stream-of-consciousness would read something like this: cruel, aggressive, vindictive, myopic, paternalistic, authoritarian, xenophobic, medieval, anal-retentive, and, yes, I think the most destructive things in the history of education were, in no particular order, Bush, Bush, and people who barely graduated from high school but thought they should run for national office and manage education policy and were named George W. Bush.
But you’d be surprised to know that I don’t think we should throw every conservative into the deepest hole we can find (unless, of course, the conservative in question is guilty of illegally wiretapping American citizens, torturing prisoners of war, and lying their way into a multi-billion-dollar quagmire, in which case I’ll settle for an eight-by-six cell with bimonthly visitations and a television tuned invariably to Hardball with Chris Matthews). Why so generous?, you ask. Well – and this may be an uninspiring excuse, but it’s true nonetheless – it’s because I, too, was once a conservative.
I know, I know. It’d be so much easier to claim that Republicans, Tea Partiers, and Ayn Rand devotees are inherently evil, label myself a born-again liberal who was saved by the grace of his gradually maturing frontal lobes, and devote myself to proselytizing my revealed and unimpeachable Truth. But come on, what rational and open-minded person does that kind of stuff, anyway? Hell, it’s not like I’d be rewarded with an unlimited supply of sky cake for my efforts.
Not only am I trying to avoid the legacy of Biggest Asshole Who Ever Lived, but I also know that many conservatives are incredibly decent people. In fact, I’ve met some very intelligent, fair, and compassionate people who voted for Bush, claim that No Child Left Behind provides the accountability that our floundering school districts need, and believe that Glenn Beck is the second coming of Christ (okay, the last one’s an exaggeration on my part, but I’m sure even those folks aren’t so bad).
So, knowing that good people can believe some incredibly stupid, cruel, and Troglodytic things, I’ve always been curious about what sets people like me (circa 2011) apart from people like me (circa 2000). There are likely some fundamental and intrinsic differences between liberals and conservatives, differences that would predispose people to one orientation or the other. Some research has proposed conservatives are more cognitively rigid, have a lower tolerance for ambiguity, and are relatively more preoccupied by thoughts of their (inevitable/unpreventable/irreversible) death.
I fit at least two of the three of qualities listed above (I’ll leave you guessing as to which ones), so I may be able to explain at least part of my wayward youth (which complements the tried-but-sometimes-did-inhale part). But whether or not this research stands the test of time, there will be more of it, and eventually we’ll have better ideas about the origins of our (often idiotic) beliefs. So, whenever I celebrate a study that reveals how conservatives are reflexively moralistic, it’s not because I think conservatives are inferior or undeserving of respectful conversation – it’s because we’ll be one step closer to explaining why fat, bloviating bigots and divisive, hate-spewing lawn gnomes dominate the heart of an otherwise friendly America.
Monday, March 21, 2011
More on the Beckwith story: an email exchange
Well, this entry is a funny story. Kevin posted his own acerbic take on the Francis Beckwith/Baylor/sexuality forum incident below. I was all ready to post my own experience, wherein I emailed Dr. Beckwith with one big grievance and he responded in quite a timely fashion with a noxious cloud of self-serving rhetoric (avoiding my question in the process). I was going to post my email and his response here, directly against his explicit wishes. However, before I hit "Publish," I gave it some thought.
In his email, he added a disclaimer that recipients "may not" publish any part of his private email without his consent. I was 99% at that moment that this disclaimer was flimsy and groundless. However, he had also added some point in his email about how "adults" conduct their disagreements, i.e. not through public dissection of private correspondence. Now, please understand that I think Dr. Beckwith is absolutely delighted to have any sort of audience for his incendiary (and logically questionable) ideas, regardless of what he puts in his disclaimers. However, I do concede that if I were to engage him through email, then turn around and post his response without even telling him, "Hey, I'm going to post your response publicly," it would look somewhat cowardly. So I emailed him and asked him for permission to post his email, adding, "I'm not convinced that your permission is actually required." He refused, with quite a saccharine tone. He also reiterated that permission is required. Heh. Suuuuuure.
Meanwhile, I spoke with a labmate who is familiar with Dr. Beckwith and confirmed my suspicion that Beckwith is just a big ol' attention whore who loves to start shit with people. This was my hunch after his first reply, wherein he responded carefully to the accusatory email of a peon like me, while wagging his finger in my face about not publicizing his words. Someone who truly wanted to maintain privacy would have ignored my email altogether or (much more improbable but still a solution) sought me out by phone or in person to share his rebuttal. I mean, he has no idea who I am but probably knows enough to realize that my opinion is inconsequential to his position, and that he has no reason to take me seriously. He also never acknowledges that he is knowingly making himself vulnerable to breach of privacy by emailing me in the first place! The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
In the end, it's probably better that I just keep him muzzled (on this blog, anyway), by posting my own thoughts but refraining from spreading his words to a wider audience. However, I have the intention of seeking some legal input on the matter, just to educate myself. I've also sent him another email asking on what legal or university regulatory grounds am I not permitted to use his email without permission. Something tells me he hates not getting the last word, but who knows? Maybe he'll surprise me by ignoring me, a response much more befitting of someone who genuinely cares about keeping his private words private.
My email (I left in a spacing error that I made):
On 3/13/11 7:28 PM, Angela wrote:
Dr. Beckwith,
The most demoralizing part of the email you sent (which has been circulated on the Internet) is your fervent entreaty for others to recognize that your (and other Christians') theology is not chosen, but is rather inherited in"Scripture and Tradition." Did it not, for a single moment, occur to you that you are in the very same position as GLBT individuals who are subjected to the spurious, disenfranchising accusation that they "choose" the gender of those to whom they are romantically and sexually attracted?
I am very curious about where you stand on the question of whether or not sexual orientation is inherited or otherwise biologically determined. I would hope that you are at least knowledgeable about the empirical research on this question. However, regardless of whether or not you are informed on the scientific findings on the issue, it looks short-sighted and tone-deaf for you to use the "inherited, not chosen" argument for your theology when that same argument is widely ignored by Christians when applied to gays, lesbians, and bisexuals. If you feel so invalidated by this misconception about theology, why would you contribute to spreading the same misconception about sexuality?
In his email, he added a disclaimer that recipients "may not" publish any part of his private email without his consent. I was 99% at that moment that this disclaimer was flimsy and groundless. However, he had also added some point in his email about how "adults" conduct their disagreements, i.e. not through public dissection of private correspondence. Now, please understand that I think Dr. Beckwith is absolutely delighted to have any sort of audience for his incendiary (and logically questionable) ideas, regardless of what he puts in his disclaimers. However, I do concede that if I were to engage him through email, then turn around and post his response without even telling him, "Hey, I'm going to post your response publicly," it would look somewhat cowardly. So I emailed him and asked him for permission to post his email, adding, "I'm not convinced that your permission is actually required." He refused, with quite a saccharine tone. He also reiterated that permission is required. Heh. Suuuuuure.
Meanwhile, I spoke with a labmate who is familiar with Dr. Beckwith and confirmed my suspicion that Beckwith is just a big ol' attention whore who loves to start shit with people. This was my hunch after his first reply, wherein he responded carefully to the accusatory email of a peon like me, while wagging his finger in my face about not publicizing his words. Someone who truly wanted to maintain privacy would have ignored my email altogether or (much more improbable but still a solution) sought me out by phone or in person to share his rebuttal. I mean, he has no idea who I am but probably knows enough to realize that my opinion is inconsequential to his position, and that he has no reason to take me seriously. He also never acknowledges that he is knowingly making himself vulnerable to breach of privacy by emailing me in the first place! The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
In the end, it's probably better that I just keep him muzzled (on this blog, anyway), by posting my own thoughts but refraining from spreading his words to a wider audience. However, I have the intention of seeking some legal input on the matter, just to educate myself. I've also sent him another email asking on what legal or university regulatory grounds am I not permitted to use his email without permission. Something tells me he hates not getting the last word, but who knows? Maybe he'll surprise me by ignoring me, a response much more befitting of someone who genuinely cares about keeping his private words private.
My email (I left in a spacing error that I made):
On 3/13/11 7:28 PM, Angela wrote:
Dr. Beckwith,
The most demoralizing part of the email you sent (which has been circulated on the Internet) is your fervent entreaty for others to recognize that your (and other Christians') theology is not chosen, but is rather inherited in"Scripture and Tradition." Did it not, for a single moment, occur to you that you are in the very same position as GLBT individuals who are subjected to the spurious, disenfranchising accusation that they "choose" the gender of those to whom they are romantically and sexually attracted?
I am very curious about where you stand on the question of whether or not sexual orientation is inherited or otherwise biologically determined. I would hope that you are at least knowledgeable about the empirical research on this question. However, regardless of whether or not you are informed on the scientific findings on the issue, it looks short-sighted and tone-deaf for you to use the "inherited, not chosen" argument for your theology when that same argument is widely ignored by Christians when applied to gays, lesbians, and bisexuals. If you feel so invalidated by this misconception about theology, why would you contribute to spreading the same misconception about sexuality?
Hell is overrated
A blogger defends Hell as "perfect justice." I disagree.
Here's my comment:
I don't believe in Hell, but I also know that people who do believe in Hell have their own reasons for doing so. All I can do is share why people like me find the idea of Hell to be unnecessary for an ethical and rewarding life.
I don't have much use for Hell, not just because I feel it's "mean, cruel, and vindictive" - and eternal suffering most definitely is each of those things - but because it conflates revenge or punishment with justice. Justice is fundamentally about creating conditions in which everyone can thrive, regardless of their initial predispositions or life circumstances. Justice is the compassion to see beyond mistakes, imperfections, and "evil" and to help people who are acting against the wellbeing of others to develop a more compassionate lifestyle themselves. In a word, it's about growth, not destruction. I should say that I may be biased in this regard: I'm a therapist, and most of us believe that no suffering is good suffering, and that punishment is always ineffective for promoting ethical behavior in the long-run (and, believe it or not, there's science to back me up on this).
But I'm sure you and most other people who read this site are more interested in the theological repercussions of Hell, so it's essential that we address your claim that fundamentalist Christians are different from fundamentalist Muslims. The belief that evil (and those who practice it) will be punished with unimaginable suffering and eventual destruction is not very much different from the "justice" practiced by Islamic jihadists. You could argue that God, as creator of the universe, has every right to inflict such a penalty, while mere humans have no such right. But violence and destruction are violence and destruction, even if Revelation makes them sound poetic when distributed by the hand of God. While I definitely prefer violence in an afterlife that I don't believe will happen to suicide bombings in this life, the state of mind that underlies both orientations is essentially the same.
So, for those of us who are unsatisfied with Hell, I propose the opposite: eternal forgiveness. Forgiveness can transform people and mend relationships in a way that threats of eternal punishment cannot.
Here's my comment:
I don't believe in Hell, but I also know that people who do believe in Hell have their own reasons for doing so. All I can do is share why people like me find the idea of Hell to be unnecessary for an ethical and rewarding life.
I don't have much use for Hell, not just because I feel it's "mean, cruel, and vindictive" - and eternal suffering most definitely is each of those things - but because it conflates revenge or punishment with justice. Justice is fundamentally about creating conditions in which everyone can thrive, regardless of their initial predispositions or life circumstances. Justice is the compassion to see beyond mistakes, imperfections, and "evil" and to help people who are acting against the wellbeing of others to develop a more compassionate lifestyle themselves. In a word, it's about growth, not destruction. I should say that I may be biased in this regard: I'm a therapist, and most of us believe that no suffering is good suffering, and that punishment is always ineffective for promoting ethical behavior in the long-run (and, believe it or not, there's science to back me up on this).
But I'm sure you and most other people who read this site are more interested in the theological repercussions of Hell, so it's essential that we address your claim that fundamentalist Christians are different from fundamentalist Muslims. The belief that evil (and those who practice it) will be punished with unimaginable suffering and eventual destruction is not very much different from the "justice" practiced by Islamic jihadists. You could argue that God, as creator of the universe, has every right to inflict such a penalty, while mere humans have no such right. But violence and destruction are violence and destruction, even if Revelation makes them sound poetic when distributed by the hand of God. While I definitely prefer violence in an afterlife that I don't believe will happen to suicide bombings in this life, the state of mind that underlies both orientations is essentially the same.
So, for those of us who are unsatisfied with Hell, I propose the opposite: eternal forgiveness. Forgiveness can transform people and mend relationships in a way that threats of eternal punishment cannot.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Breaking news: being anti-gay does NOT mean you're "anti-gay"
When some Baylor students wanted to create an on-campus forum for sexuality, I'm sure their first thought was What better place to educate students on issues relevant to their lives than a twenty-first century institution of higher education? But here's where they went wrong: while it is true that Baylor meets many of the criteria for a "twenty-first century institution of higher education" - classrooms, overpriced textbooks, omnipresent displays of testosterone and wealth - it fails to meet the most important one. No, it's not lots and lots of dormitory sex, which, though openly denied by the administration, is as balls-to-the-wall as any dense community of unsupervised adolescents. Actually, Baylor fails the the twenty-first century part.
Baylor's medieval code of conduct forbids talking about anything that would make a nun squirm, including minority sexual practices. You might say this is unnecessarily rigid and dogmatic of them, but you should know they at least tried using a "nothing that would make a priest squirm" standard, which left some wide-open, shall we say, loopholes. Anyway, despite the odds against them, proponents of the Sexual Identity Forum attempted to obtain support from several faculty members, including the one who wrote this not-so welcoming e-mail in response: http://www.sifembears.com/?p=370. Apparently, such a group wrongfully discriminates against the Christians and their God-given right to discriminate against people who disagree with them. I've listed some of the email's highlights below, along with my own responses.
First, the nature of human sexuality and the normativity of conjugal love is a settled question in the Christian tradition.
Anytime you use words like “nature” and “normativity,” you’re asking for someone to whip out a textbook or a mountain of research publications and embarrass you with facts. Why? Because words like these are only useful in the context of science, which concerns itself with the study of - any guesses? - facts of nature.
[The terms you employ] reveal a deep hostility to those who believe that homosexual conduct is disordered: “hate crimes,” “homophobia,” and “LGBT suicide.”
I’d love to hear your theory on the “nature” of suicide, but last I checked when an LGBT individual kills him or herself, it qualifies as an LGBT suicide. These suicides almost invariably follow years of abuse, bullying, and ostracism. But maybe you’ve thought of a better way to explain it, like, I don’t know, “God’s will” or “the wages of sin is death.” Of course, “the enduring love of Christ for humanity” sounds much better than “homophobic aggression,” so, for the sake of your offering plate, keep preaching it from your end.
Thus, what you are suggesting is that Baylor treat its moral theology as if it were something its leadership can simply will not to believe. But that’s not the way moral theology works. It is not a commodity that is subject to our will. It is something normative to which our wills should be subject.
Well, the words “willful ignorance” come to mind. But, really, is free will not a core tenet of Christian theology? How else could you fit in the part about sentencing people to an eternity of suffering for their choices, say if they choose to focus on the natural instead of the supernatural or choose to misspell his name as Allah or choose to be born in a remote village in the Amazon where people have never heard of him. I suppose God is currently willing me to not believe in him or your silly doctrines. Yep, little atheist me, doing the will of my not-really-Lord-and-Savior without even breaking a sweat. And here you are, wasting all that time with crackers and grape Kool-aid.
In a world of pluralism and diversity, institutions like Baylor should be allowed to flourish and advance their self-understanding without being mocked, ridiculed, and accused of bad faith by those who do not share that understanding.
I absolutely love when the persecuting majority feels persecuted. It’s like an episode of that great eighties sit-com starring Tony Danza: Who’s the Fuhrer?
The university would no more approve of a group that denies the Christian understanding of the proper employment of our sexual powers than it would approve of a group that denied the periodical table or advanced racial segregation.
Not so long ago, if I’m not mistaken, seemingly crazy things like racial segregation and anti-science attitudes were widely accepted by many Christians. Yep, I just checked – it still holds as of twenty-three seconds ago, more or less.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Earthquake
I am half-Japanese. My mother is Japanese, and I have lived in Japan twice, as a child and as an adult. I'm relieved to know that my family and friends have all been accounted for, and they are all safe. The city where my family lives is actually far from the epicenter, so they were insulated from the direct effects.
This morning, I was woken by a 7am call from my mom, who lives in the U.S. just a few hours away from me. "Since you study psychology, I just thought I would call you and tell you that I am SO MAD. I AM SO MAD." My mother is emotionally reserved, with a tendency to get defensive if you ask her "What's wrong?" when she's acting weird. So I could already tell that this phone call was important and unusual.
My mother converted to Southern Baptism ten years ago. I wasn't too keen on the change, and it was a particularly WTF development for a little old Japanese lady who had never expressed any desire to be spiritual, but I took it in stride because I knew that she had been struggling with a divorce. Since then, she's gotten more and more vocal about her faith, and our interactions on the topic have ranged from intelligent, loving mother-daughter discussion to her rambling on about God's gifts while I roll my eyes.
But today, when she called me, she slowly, laboriously worked herself around to the admission that she is experiencing doubt, that her faith has been shaken. She has studied Bible teachings that state that calamities occur to punish non-believers. I think that thought has been haunting her as she watches the news coverage of horrific tragedy in Japan. She is struggling to accept a God that would punish thousands of "non-believers" who have never been exposed to Christianity and would have no reason to convert from their typical Shinto/Buddhist/animistic ways. (Let us also point out that Japan is hardly Gomorrah.) She is angry at this God, who would be so arrogant and cruel. And that anger disappoints, scares, and confuses her. She described being compelled to reject this version of faith, while simultaneously being ashamed that her faith is so easily shaken.
In my opinion, it seems like tragedies, especially large-scale ones like this, bring out the worst in religious. Victims either hear that they are being punished for being bad, or being challenged to grow for being good ("God never gives you more than you can handle"), or that somehow or another there is a valuable benefit or lesson ("God has a plan;" "That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger"). Even in the most benign sense of spiritual companionship and comfort, I think I would have a psychic conflict with seeking solace from the same God who took my loved ones or otherwise exerted massive suffering. And the hackneyed stories about "butterfly effects" from bad events, such as "If this hadn't happened, I wouldn't have met/done/seen/learned such-and-such..." are worthless to me. Because if it hadn't happened, you would have met/done/seen/learned something else, which might have been just as good or even better, minus the awful tragedy.
All this to say, trying to make sense of events like this just seems dangerous and misguided. In 2004, I was living in Japan, and I planned a Christmas vacation to the Philippines after rejecting Thailand because it was more expensive. When the Indian tsunami happened, my mother said, "I'm so glad you're safe, I guess all my praying for you has worked!" I challenged her, asking if thousands of others had perished because their loved ones hadn't prayed for them enough. She acknowledged my point. Today, with the events in Japan, I'm reminded of that 2004 conversation and all its flawed logic. I know that my mom has benefited greatly from her faith in terms of friendship, community, serenity, and intellectual stimulation. I just hope she finds a new faith or a new God, because as of today, she has outgrown this one.
[Here is an article a friend posted that I really like. It is about doubt's valuable role in Christianity. Also, I'm still a staunch Atheist, but location and circumstance require that I think about faith a lot more than I typically would.]
This morning, I was woken by a 7am call from my mom, who lives in the U.S. just a few hours away from me. "Since you study psychology, I just thought I would call you and tell you that I am SO MAD. I AM SO MAD." My mother is emotionally reserved, with a tendency to get defensive if you ask her "What's wrong?" when she's acting weird. So I could already tell that this phone call was important and unusual.
My mother converted to Southern Baptism ten years ago. I wasn't too keen on the change, and it was a particularly WTF development for a little old Japanese lady who had never expressed any desire to be spiritual, but I took it in stride because I knew that she had been struggling with a divorce. Since then, she's gotten more and more vocal about her faith, and our interactions on the topic have ranged from intelligent, loving mother-daughter discussion to her rambling on about God's gifts while I roll my eyes.
But today, when she called me, she slowly, laboriously worked herself around to the admission that she is experiencing doubt, that her faith has been shaken. She has studied Bible teachings that state that calamities occur to punish non-believers. I think that thought has been haunting her as she watches the news coverage of horrific tragedy in Japan. She is struggling to accept a God that would punish thousands of "non-believers" who have never been exposed to Christianity and would have no reason to convert from their typical Shinto/Buddhist/animistic ways. (Let us also point out that Japan is hardly Gomorrah.) She is angry at this God, who would be so arrogant and cruel. And that anger disappoints, scares, and confuses her. She described being compelled to reject this version of faith, while simultaneously being ashamed that her faith is so easily shaken.
In my opinion, it seems like tragedies, especially large-scale ones like this, bring out the worst in religious. Victims either hear that they are being punished for being bad, or being challenged to grow for being good ("God never gives you more than you can handle"), or that somehow or another there is a valuable benefit or lesson ("God has a plan;" "That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger"). Even in the most benign sense of spiritual companionship and comfort, I think I would have a psychic conflict with seeking solace from the same God who took my loved ones or otherwise exerted massive suffering. And the hackneyed stories about "butterfly effects" from bad events, such as "If this hadn't happened, I wouldn't have met/done/seen/learned such-and-such..." are worthless to me. Because if it hadn't happened, you would have met/done/seen/learned something else, which might have been just as good or even better, minus the awful tragedy.
All this to say, trying to make sense of events like this just seems dangerous and misguided. In 2004, I was living in Japan, and I planned a Christmas vacation to the Philippines after rejecting Thailand because it was more expensive. When the Indian tsunami happened, my mother said, "I'm so glad you're safe, I guess all my praying for you has worked!" I challenged her, asking if thousands of others had perished because their loved ones hadn't prayed for them enough. She acknowledged my point. Today, with the events in Japan, I'm reminded of that 2004 conversation and all its flawed logic. I know that my mom has benefited greatly from her faith in terms of friendship, community, serenity, and intellectual stimulation. I just hope she finds a new faith or a new God, because as of today, she has outgrown this one.
[Here is an article a friend posted that I really like. It is about doubt's valuable role in Christianity. Also, I'm still a staunch Atheist, but location and circumstance require that I think about faith a lot more than I typically would.]
Here we go.
You see, we are two liberal atheists living in a small, stringently religious, and painfully conservative city, in the landlocked middle of God Bless Texas. Plus we're grad students, which for me means I am 1)exhausted all the time, 2)desperate to talk about something other than my field (psychology), and yet 3)seemingly incapable of not talking about my field much of the time. Add to this a relative dearth of opportunities to interact with like-minded or even middle-of-the-road folks, because of the aforementioned demographic profile and the aforementioned exhaustion, and a socio-political blog seemed like something exciting and feasible.
My personal values are changing right now, and I'd like a place where I can discuss, explore, debate, and refine them with other people. I'd also like, in an uncharacteristically optimistic way, to share some of the ideas that have helped me to sharpen my worldview and might help sharpen others' worldview too. I'm not much of an activist or protester or preacher, but I do believe in asking, "Have you ever thought about it this way? Why not? What if you did?" I believe that is how I can contribute, and what I'd like to do here. I hope that you readers will ask me those questions, too, because I am far from resolution on many issues, and I NEED to hear your opinions, soapboxes, gripes, suggestions, logic, and educational offerings.
I also hope that my background or opinions don't scare off the readers who see or live things differently. Respectful disagreement is going to give me a lot more to think about than affirmation and praise, as much as I love the latter. Please share your dissenting thoughts or ideas. Well, I think I've covered most of my goals for this blog, so without further ado...
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