1 + 1 = 2. "The height of certainty," you say. Yet, how rarely we can be sure this is correct, when we consider how often one of something plus one of something equals something other than two of something. How rarely we ask the question, "of what?" when it comes to 1 + 1, which makes all the difference in the world.

So, 1 (of what?) + 1 (of what?) = how many we cannot know, unless we have first answered the first two "of whats" and, further, defined the "of what" that we are counting as our result. For example 1 salt + 1 liquid may = 3 states, or one gas, or some other number of distinct objects.

Only when our conception of number is limited to digits as they appear on a number line, or when our counting is limited to things of the same kind, is 1 + 1 = 2 certain; but that is only because our thought in those instances is constrained to the world of sequential integers. Most of the time, this question about what it is we are counting goes unacknowledged. 1 (integer on a number line) + 1 (integer on a number line) = 2 (integers on a number line), is what we are in effect saying, were we to voice the unspoken--and then we act as if that is the supreme and exhaustive truth about 1 + 1.

In some ways, these instances in which 1 + 1 equals 2 are the least interesting of the 1 + 1 possibilities, and may not even be the most common; yet we mistakenly hold it out as the apex of certain statements. It definitely reveals to us a law of our own consciousness. But, is it fair to hold it forth as the model of truth--or the kind of certainty that all of our statements should aspire to, if we want to consider ourselves reasonable and empirical? Is this fair, when we consider how much of our experience necessarily falls outside of these number-line scenarios?

Outside of the relatively narrow set of conditions in which 1 + 1 unequivocally equals 2, the story of 1 + 1 can be anything other than certain, and can admit as much flexibility as to fill the narrative of a lifetime--such as 1 (man) + 1 (pen) = 16 (books); 1 (character) + 1 (setting) = 1 (novel) or 80,000 (words); or 1 (woman) + 1 (man) = 5 (children), 1 (family), or a host of problems.

Don't even get me started on 2 + 2.

Rare are those minds for whom knowledge of the answer does not prevent further exploration of the question.

From the bits and pieces of Oprah's "Belief" series that I have seen, it looks to be a beautifully produced exploration of religion and spirituality as it plays out in the lives of ordinary people from a variety of cultures and traditions. The episode I viewed tonight had the story of a Moroccan boy who is memorizing all eighty-thousand words of the Koran. Another story featured an Australian physician who walked the Camino de Santiago, and discovered a resurgence of purpose and meaning that had left his life decades earlier.

The series does not downplay the capacity for religion to be implicated in disagreement and violence, but focuses on the role of religion and spirituality where they are part of positive developments for individuals and their communities. The show's epigram is, "See the world through someone else's soul."

In the story of the man who hikes the Camino, his pilgrimage seems to have restored his ability to care and to love. The tears he cried along the way had the markings of tears someone might cry when they are beginning to heal from deep trauma--in this case, the trauma of being in dis-relationship to one's own life. The window into this man's healing provoked me to think about how difficult it is to judge another person's deep life perspective, especially as that perspective manifests in particular expressions that might be described as spiritual or religious. One person's medicine may be meaningless or even repugnant to another. In some cases, at least, I'm sure it's because the one making the judgment has never suffered from the sickness for which that particular medicine appears to be the agent of healing.

If I squint hard and am willing to lie to myself, I can believe whatever I choose to, and can disengage from any argument to the contrary, even when the argument makes sense. When this approach begins to fail, I can reinforce it by posting my belief online, and be comforted by the "likes" I get. I can also seek out sources and sites that share the same belief, and that yell it at a volume level that assures me they must know what they are talking about. I can congregate online with others and we can simultaneously shout the belief, until no sound from outside can reach us. We can pat each other on the back as we shoot down the occasional peep of dissent that sneaks in past the din of our own echoing opinion.

The merger of self-deception and social media frees me from the pain that used to come in those moments when I realized that facts did not support my belief, and I had to find ways to modify it--which caused great disruption to me and to my friends who also had the same belief. I now have a way turn off the discomfort that used to nearly paralyze me. In the past, alcohol and drugs together were barely able to accomplish this.

I have to admit, there still is a part of me inside that occasionally refuses to go along with this way of being sure that my beliefs are not threatened. That part can be tricky. I have had to use my best defenses against it. One of the most powerful ways that I have found to fight against it is to come up with religious reasons for why my beliefs are right. This allows me the added advantage of being able to label those who challenge my beliefs as evil--maybe even of the devil. There are lots of other people who are eager to confirm for me that my beliefs are the ones that God himself endorses. I love listening to those people and having them around. They are good people, in an evil world.

Still, that part inside is persistent. One time, it even dared to question my religious beliefs--I mean, the beliefs that I had protected by wrapping them in religious ideas. This part tried to get at me in the most devious way I can imagine. It appeared to me, inside my conscience, as though it were Jesus himself! It asked me things like: "Are you sure I would have agreed with the things you are saying that I stand for?"; "Are you sure that I would always agree with you and your friends and never with the people who disagree with you?"; and, "Do you think it will ultimately matter if what is really true is different from the internal map that you are using to guide you in your decisions--both in this life and (by your own admission) the next one too?"

Like I said, that part is really sneaky. I am working at it, though. Hopefully, before long, I will figure out a way to make that part be quiet, so I don't have to hear it at all.

The art of reporting a fire,
conveying to people the nature of the fire,
convincing them of the dangers of the fire,
without needing to light yet one more fire in the process,
is rare indeed.
The world today is full of firestarters,
masquerading as opinionators
and bearers of news.

In the system of government established in the United States, disagreement over policies and direction occurs in the context of broader agreement about governmental and procedural structures. That is why a mere majority vote is required for some matters, whereas amendments to the constitution itself require a two-thirds majority vote of the states. This is to ensure that basic governmental structures, in which we express our disagreement and live out our democratic freedoms, are not destabilized. 

Radical congressional voices threaten this arrangement because, when things don’t go their way with regard to policy and direction (the things that can be civilly disagreed upon) they increasingly threaten to tamper with the structural certainties (the things that are part of the broader agreement, that should not be tampered with). This is like someone who is upset when they are losing at Monopoly, so they refuse to turn over the dice when it is the other person’s turn. This is like someone on a ship who is upset at a captain’s decision, so they attack the structural integrity of the ship itself, hacking away at the hull. 

If you are proud of those who are taking this approach, please consider that it is the structural integrity of the governmental system that is being jeopardized. Words like “conservative” and “liberal” will no longer have meaning when the container for civil disagreement has been demolished. We will not be arguing about who pays for medicine or who can get legally married at that point, but about who is responsible to keep electricity on, keep water running, define what is the law, and who is to keep the semblance of law and order. 

Those of you who consider yourselves patriotic, yet support this particularly disruptive version of congressional obstructionism, please consider what a stretch it is to claim that you are representing American values, which were won at the price of blood, and codified through a deliberative process by people who had lived through the nightmare of failed political systems, and who were uniquely prepared by history and education to introduce to the world a new solution for the problem of human governance. Lest we think we can match their vantage point, and reestablish a system equally stable and robust (should we so casually drop the one we have), please proceed with caution.

When history lies,
a part of each of us
goes underground
and does not come out
until it is safe to
start telling the truth
again.

Democracy has a breaking point. It is the point at which the voting population, uneducated in democratic principles, willingly and through democratic processes, gives power to those whose actions and attitudes are antithetical to democratic principles. 

It is a mistake to believe that elections and majority vote are sufficient to guarantee that democracy remains intact. Majority vote is a necessary aspect of democracy, but only as voting is informed by a perspective that knows and cares how to pass on democratic values. If, instead, people vote to give power to a tyrant, that is the end of democracy. "The end" might be said to occur earlier than that, though, in that the population doing such voting has already ceased to inwardly understand and cherish the democratic ideal. 

For this reason, historically, democracy has been conceived of as possible only in situations where there is an informed, educated public. Also, for this reason, in democratic republics such as the United States, it was understood that governmental action can't be tied, in an automatic, instantaneous way, to the popular vote. Instead, the power that originates in popular vote is distributed amongst three branches of government, each of which has its own processes of action and deliberation. 

Democracy has always involved what could be called healthy self-doubt: the guarding of space for the voice of the minority--not the crushing of those who dissent. Democracy maintains space in which divergent opinions can remain alive, even if public need dictates that only one policy direction be pursued at any given time. Freedom of religion and freedom of speech pertain primarily to those perspectives that are in the minority, and only secondarily to the majority culture. (The rights of the majority group are a given, ensured by their sheer power and number.) 

The current election cycle raises concern about the health of the democratic ideal amongst the voting public. As always, many candidates are bad. Now especially, though, some may truly be dangerous. Donald Trump, for example, is a candidate who belittles those who dare to disagree with him. He has not denounced the sentiments of the man who yelled "white power!" during a recent speech. He advocates for policies concerning  immigrants that ignore the things that made it possible for his own ancestors to take up residence in the U.S. He appeals to the idea of greatness and strength, while not specifying what the values are that strength is to be in service of. The most that can be inferred from his statements is that strength is its own justification. The fact that one has power to put someone else "in his place" is evidence enough, for Trump, that the strong one is right. He embodies the amorality of the "Übermensch" foretold by Nietzsche. Democratic values, to the extent that they protect the minority voice, are portrayed by Trump as pathetic weakness. Dissent is to be removed from the public square, like Jorge Ramos was ejected from a press conference, when he asked a question that Trump did not want to respond to.

The scary thing is that our own democratic system provides the means by which we might give our democratic system away. It is a brilliant system, but it assumes that those who use it are educated in its values and interested in preserving them. In this upcoming election, I hope we can steer past this scary precipice, where feeling and passion seem to outweigh thoughtful consideration. Beyond that, it is time to be concerned about the fact that democratic ideals are spurned and belittled by a portion of the voting public. If the idea of democracy is obliterated within the consciousness of the voting populace, whether by disinformation or by strategic withholding of information and education, there is no safeguard left to ensure that democracy will continue. Democracy is not just a procedure (voting); it is a culture. 

I just watched a program, narrated by George Clooney, on news coverage of JFK's assassination. It is well worth watching, if you can find it. It brought me to reflect on a tragic aspect of our existence as we currently experience it. Within this society we share--which is the cumulative product of our individual attitudes and behaviors, and, simultaneously, the setting in which we explore who we are and what we might be--we harbor the capacity for the hatred that makes assassination possible, and the structures of thought that provide the rationale and justification for such acts. In psychological language, such feeling-charged structures of thought can be called "complexes," and "pathological." In the old days, they no doubt would have been associated with ideas about demonic influence and possession. 

Whatever we name them, it is frightening that we live in a world where there seems to be less and less concern about how to notice when our brains are being hijacked by such ideas and impulses, and about what the results may be if we act upon them. Careful, nuanced thought is criticized as a sign of weakness. Heroes are made of people who advocate for action without discussion or reflection beforehand. Adding to our danger is the fact we seem to be losing our ability to think critically about information and stories that present themselves as factual news. Small groups and subcultures buy into versions of reality that would not stand the test of careful thought. Based on untested and errant pictures of what is real, they sometimes make decisions that affect things adversely for many more than just themselves.

All of these thoughts arose for me as I watched this program about how history was radically changed in 1963, by the ending of JFK's life. It is frightening that we remain subject to the same forces that, time and time again, have set back the clock on social progress, and our growth towards humane ways of being. Even this post, which, I dare to say (whatever else may be said about it) is thought out quite carefully, will evoke anger and judgment from someone, because ... well, that's just what we do, these days. We get mad. We get rageful. We get indignant. It's a sign to us of our strength. It's a confirmation to us of the rightness of our cause. It's a sign that tells us we are not responsible for what we might do next. 

Consciousness itself is dialectical. It is not at all surprising that aspects of consciousness which we identify as "religious" and aspects of consciousness that we identify as "scientific" have existed side-by-side throughout the history of our species, as means by which we observe, reflect, ponder, and investigate. Properly understood, these two impulses do not oppose each other, except to the extent that they goad each other on to explanations that are more-and-more adequate to the complexity of existence, as we experience it.

By way of analogy: a child, one day, takes a science class and begins to think of his mother as an assortment of amino acids, molecules and cells, not altogether different from the chemical soup that is his morning bowl of oatmeal. This new perspective stands alongside the perspective (frame of mind) in which mom is still "mom," to whom he is profoundly grateful, in a way he would not be if he were merely assessing the nature of her derivation from the elements of the periodic table. The one perspective does not preclude the other. The "religious impulse" can be described as that sense of "creaturely dependence" (Rudolph Otto) that can persist--as one lens through which reality is understood--within the mind of even the most astute and rigorous scientist.

These two impulses each can become dangerous, though, when they are artificially separated and put at odds with each other. When that happens, either from the "scientific" or the "religious" side, critical aspects of our full human reality become reduced, to fit into the confines of our preferred theory. So, for example, there are real dangers if the boy thinks that his perception of mom as molecules means he needs to discard his notion of mom as "mom," as being a mere illusion. So, too, if he refuses to recognize the ways in which she is chemical soup, out of fear of losing "mom," he forfeits the endless potential for exploration of the natural world which is opened up by that perspective. At the same time, he demonstrates a rigidity of thought, incapable of viewing phenomena through more than one exclusive paradigm or lens.

It is helpful to think about the idea of fairness in society as having meaning on two levels. The uppermost level is the one in which the old maxims hold true: "Work hard and you'll get ahead." "Persistence pays off." "The early bird gets the worm." The outcome of our actions in this upper level is relatively predictable--but only because there are consistent laws, rules, and principles, and steady enforcement of these, that ensure the connection between work and reward.

The lower level is where the machinery and infrastructure for the upper level resides. Here we find the foundation, joists, and floorboards for the activities that take place above. When these things are not in place, or are selectively in place only for certain people but not others, the traditional maxims do not hold true. Incentive to work, for example, is taken away, because experience shows that the fruit of my labor is likely to be taken by someone else. The carrots that society dangles to motivate people are not, apparently, dangled for me, but for people who already possess a critical mass of social capital, that then gives them access to a level playing field which they can assume (incorrectly) is equally accessible to everyone. 

True injustice is usually invisible to those who are not personally experiencing it themselves. To those privileged to partake of the level playing field, the only explanation available to account for those who are struggling is that they are not trying enough. It cannot be readily seen that the part of the floor these strugglers stand upon is one where the foundation, joists, and floorboards are out of place. The incentive to try hard is a luxury not available to those who are excluded, for any number of possible reasons, from the system that joins work with reward in a reasonable way. 

Being aware of these two levels, and the importance of the lower level, obligates us to do more than say, "Try harder." It obligates us to acknowledge and address a level of inequality more radical than what can be attributed to one's effort and motivation. It obligates us to acknowledge that society is capable of deeming certain people as unworthy of being considered as people at all. 

It does not take a great stretch of imagination to see the entire earth, at this time in history, as analogous to the Eden that humans were placed in, in the story of creation found in Genesis. Like that first Eve and Adam, we have the responsibility to "till the ground" (Gen. 2:6) and to "dress and keep it" (Gen. 2:15). And, like them, we have come to understand that we have "dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth" (Gen. 1:28). We are at a moment in history when these words can be appreciated as concise statements of things that are quite literally true.

We literally have power to shape the earth in nearly any way we choose--almost instantly in some cases, and over the course of generations, in others--including the leveling of mountains and the changing of the courses of rivers. We are very much like those first gardeners in Eden, finding ourselves with god-like powers (whether we want them or not) in relation to the surrounding creation. The question is, how are we handling, and going to continue to handle, this awesome responsibility?
 
By the time the biblical narrative progresses to the story of the flood, we have had a chance to learn more about the appetites and failures of those original gardeners and their descendants (us). We hear, again, a description of our "dominion" over creation--yet now with an ominous change in tone:
"And the fear of you and the dread of you shall be upon every beast of the earth, and upon every fowl of the air, upon all that moveth upon the earth, and upon all the fishes of the sea; into your hand are they delivered." (Gen. 9:2)
"Fear" and "dread"? Is that what we now visit upon the rest of creation? One need not be theologically inclined to appreciate how appropriate this description is.

Again, we have power now to shape the earth in almost any way we choose. In ways that are both seen and unseen we are doing so right now. We are doing so at macro and micro levels, affecting terrain, biology, ecology, and chemistry. The question is whether we are willing to recognize this is the case, and how we respond to this awareness. In addition to the effects we have on the physical life and reality that surrounds us, we are also continually creating and nurturing human culture, which mirrors for us with painful accuracy the kind of "gardening" we have practiced there.

Despite the fact I have used biblical texts to illustrate the current situation, I do not feel compelled to point to judgment from heaven as the primary consequence of our neglect of our awesome role (which, theologically, can be described as a priestly role) towards creation. There is judgment enough in the fact that whatever world we create, we have to live in. This is not just a warning regarding the future, though it certainly includes that. In addition to the fact that we are now shaping the world of our children and grandchildren for countless generations to come, we ourselves live in the wake of those who have shaped the world before us. The way we handle life always comes back around, affecting others and ourselves. This happens all the time--is happening right now and in every nanosecond--in ways both known and unknown.

Neglect of others is ultimately also neglect of ourselves--because, no matter how hard we try, we cannot avoid being the recipient of our own actions. If we disregard and violate nature, we do not just break laws or spurn a high-flown ecological theory. We also inevitably disregard and violate something fundamental within our own being, since nature lives inside us as much as it lives outside us, and we ourselves are instances of nature too. The forgetting of this constitutes an aspect of our estrangement from our own life, as it appears in the world around us, in our neighbor, and in our selves. And, yes, it also contributes to the destruction of the planet, with the destruction of beauty at countless points along the way.

The tree has a goal
unlike our goals of
get here or get there.
It has a point a
yet not a point b,
apparently.
Instead, it just grows up
and up,
limited always by gravity,
struggling always against
gravity,
ending up exactly
as it is supposed to be—
not by defining some spot
it must reach,
which may end up being
too high or
not high enough,
anyway,
but by ceaselessly following
its own inner imperative
to be and do
what it
already is.
It becomes a tree
by treeing.

The ability to engage force, brutality, violence, ignorance, bigotry, fear, superstition, and hate, in such a way so that love and forgiveness somehow come out on top, is nothing less than the ability to transform death into life.

What I do today is as likely to set the stage for what I feel tomorrow as anything that has happened earlier in my life.

It is a real question

whether the universe and I

can ultimately be

at odds, 

considering the degree

to which we are 

aspects of 

each other.

The universe must not be indifferent to suffering, at least to the extent that I, also, am an instance of the universe, and express its nature as much as anything else does. It cannot be described as devoid of concern for personal, human existence, for comfort or for nurture. At the same time, that quality of the universe that I might characterize as disinterest or detachment--whether cruel or placid--lives also in the background radiation of my own soul. 

There is no laboratory so tightly sealed (or, for that matter, no thought so private or subjectivity so deep) that the signature of the surrounding universe, including everything from the Big Bang to the leaven of my own consciousness, does not seep in, inform, and influence what happens inside, as freely as if the walls and everything inside were merely expressions of the same universe--which they are. Nor can what happens inside fail to shape both the events and meaning of the universe in which it occurs. 

If I do not at some point become peaceful, the likelihood of eventually finding myself in a peaceful place is zero. Whether I am on earth, in hell, or in heaven, I retain within myself final veto power over any proposal for peace with which I might be presented. 

My horror at this destruction of ancient things puts me in touch with the degree to which "culture" is a sacred category to me (as I know it is for many others, as well). These cultural artifacts connect me with the mystery that our existence retains, the wondering of our ancestors, and my wonder about our ancestors. They are religious to me, whether or not they are explicitly religious in themselves. ISIS's destruction of them shocks me as an exaggerated and distorted example of our dumb tendency as a species to reduce mystery to a single-line answer. The single answer is an idol--despite the fact it is offered as the destroyer of idols--except to the extent it as big and mysterious as nature and humanity itself, and embraces them both as indispensable, irreplaceable, and precious.

http://nymag.com/daily/intelligencer/2015/03/isis-destroys-ancient-art.html

From my vantage-point, I see every conscious human, theistic or otherwise, relying on things that can't be proven. Faith is a pervasive aspect of existence – though there are many different kinds of it. Even to say that life and humanity have value relies on things I cannot prove. 

This pervasiveness of faith to normal living has not gone unrecognized in Western philosophy. David Hume, for example, in one fell swoop, demolished classic and medieval arguments for the existence of God, alongside all scientific certainties that rely on assumptions from inductive reasoning – and simultaneously demonstrated that an act of faith (relying on the occurrence of something that can't ever be proven as certain) is involved in every single instant of normal living. Far from being a criticism, though, under normal circumstances, I consider such believing necessary and appropriate. I think Alvin Plantinga, with his articulation of the notion of "properly basic beliefs," has some reasonable things to say along these lines (though I'm not invested in the exact outcomes of this process for him).

If we make our sole criterion for the reasonability or unreasonability of faith to be whether something can be proven, then I think we all fall flat: myself, you, Sam Harris, ISIS. We need to be able to make distinctions amongst different kinds of belief, if we are to do more than roundly shut out a whole aspect of human experience – and lose our basis for making positive or negative judgments about how it manifests. So, for example, we can can ask questions like:

1) Does the belief ask me to accept something which is irrational or fallacious? On the other hand, does it ask me to accept something which, though not strictly irrational, is not subject to empirical verification?

2) Do the things believed in contradict what I know to be true from other sources, such as that which is evident to my senses?

3) If so, do I have grounds for believing that these other sources, or my senses, may be providing misleading information?

4) If it asks me to accept something not subject to empirical verification, are the difficulties of verifying it time-conditioned, so that they may be resolved as further observations accrue? Or, is this something that can never be conclusively observed from within our ordinary space time perspective? 

5) Is the belief negative, neutral, or positive with regard to information from other sources? For example, "negative" would mean it contradicts or asks me to disregard something told through these other sources; "neutral" would be a belief that is indifferent to what I know from these other sources; "positive" would be something that enhances my engagement with what comes from these other sources. (For some, for example, the belief that God has created a material universe governed by definite laws actually incites them to pursue empirical study.)

6) Similarly, we can ask whether the belief is negative, neutral, or positive with regard to other values. For example, does the believe cause me to put aside what is considered valuable about things like life and humanity? Or, do the beliefs incite me to more fully explore and live out these values?

7) Do practices and behaviors that grow out of this belief facilitate healthy and vibrant personal, social, and ecological life, or do they create dead ends and obstructions to development in these spheres – including even the extreme possibility that they actually encourage destruction? 

This is just a start. I could come up with more points than this. The point is that I do not see the crude rejection of all faith as being useful at all towards helping us understand what factors lead us to be more or less all that we can aspire to and be as human beings.

For better or for worse, we are never merely ourselves when we are living under the influence of an intoxicating ideal (LUIII). To some extent, at such times, we let loose the reigns of self and turn them over to another. This is true whether the ideal can be described as political, religious, moral, cultural, intellectual, or aesthetic. We should draw attention to the risks inherent in this, and consider awareness of these risks to be an important form of sobriety. 

As is the case when we consume alcohol or other drugs, we have the responsibility to monitor and manage the behaviors that emerge from ourselves while under the influence of such ideals. Whatever the behaviors may be, it is appropriate that we be considered accountable for them. If we are not assured of our ability or willingness to do so, perhaps we should consider not imbibing in the first place.  

Ideals (images of life that inspire us with their coherency and plausibility) have amazing power over us. While we may (sometimes, but not always, I would say) have a degree of choice when it comes to the question of which ideals inspire and motivate us, once we come under their influence, they determine much regarding our feelings, thoughts, and (most critically) our perceptions.

Whether we describe the ideals that guide us as being primarily of the rational and empirical variety or not (and an ideal which appears reasonable to one person may not appear so to another), it would be a quantum leap forward to affirm that none of us is absolved from responsibility for the ideals we allow to have sway over us, and for the results that ensue from us being under the influence of any particular ideal or ideals. In other words, it is helpful to see ideals, ideologies, religions, philosophies of life, world views, etc. as not entirely unlike drugs. We cannot get off the hook by saying, "My religion made me do it," etc., because you chose to imbibe of that particular intoxicating substance in the first place, and to nurse upon it thereafter.

To the extent we are unconscious of how we come under such influence, we have some major work to do, in the direction of growing towards recognizing when we are being presented with the invitation to slip into an ideology, to let our souls shape themselves to a fit a particular suit--which, whether we like it or not, or believe it or not, is going to begin exercising some degree of control over our perceptions and our identity. What we need to emphasize is a degree of accountability for the formation of relationship with ideals.

The world we attain
will not differ substantially
from the means we use
to get there.

Crafty political bills have, inserted within them, all kinds of surplus material, around other things that are agreed upon by all as being important. The opposing party is put in a bind. If they vote for the measure because of the stuff agreed upon, they end up also subscribing to other things they are not fond of. If they vote against the measure because of the extraneous things, they are accused of also rejecting the important central issue. Something similar is happening in the debate about whether ISIS is Islamic or not. I would like to break out the issues included in the "bill" I am being asked to accept, so I can make it clear what I am voting for and what I am not voting for.

1) ISIS is Islamic. 

My vote: Yes. To ignore this is to miss critical information about how this group thinks and operates.

2) ISIS is Islam. I feel this is what some are asking me to accept. To accede to this would be to accede to the notion that ISIS is the definitive statement of what Islam is, or what it must inevitably become. 

My vote: I reject this. It is entirely possible to condemn ISIS, yet to affirm the positive capacity and potential evident within Islam. It is possible to oppose ISIS in the name of Islam – a different interpretation of Islam than the one put forth by ISIS, and one which I would argue is a better interpretation. Millions of Muslims agree with me.

3) Only literalistic interpretations of a religious tradition are the true and real representations of the religion. Understandings that rely on a degree of symbolic reading of sacred texts are just wannabes. 

My vote: No. Religious understanding has always walked hand-in-hand with poetic understanding. In fact, religions that recognize the object of their discussion as being transcendent take for granted and state axiomatically that language about divine things is necessarily symbolic and figurative. Religion has been in the business of allegory from the very beginning.

4) All faith is bad. There is no such thing as good faith.

My vote: No. There is a huge difference between faith that expresses itself in the form of someone going to help ebola sufferers, and faith that expresses itself in the form of trying to provoke an apocalypse. To condemn, in a broad brush way, all faith – or to say that all notions of "God" are equally empty or dangerous – is simply to turn our back on the variety of meanings these things have for people, and the variety of ways in which they motivate people to live in this world.

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2015/02/20/will-it-take-the-end-of-the-world-for-obama-to-recognize-isis.html?via=desktop&source=twitter

Grandmothers occasionally demonstrate unique power to call people back to their humanity. Whether or not you agree with all that is said by this particular woman, you can sense the power her words have for the young man she is speaking with.
This reminds me of the story of the group of mothers and grandmothers in Liberia, who protested the civil war that was taking place there--at one point taking their clothes off and positioning themselves so the militants and generals would have to step over their naked bodies. This created so much shame for these "leaders" that they reconsidered and turned from their violence. An extremely powerful story. The movie about this is well worth seeing (and can be read about here: http://praythedevilbacktohell.com/synopsis.php).

When you are engaged in argument with a perspective other than your own, there are sometimes moments in which you feel your thinking comes together just perfectly, and your perspective seems entirely self-evident and obvious. When this happens, it seems the only reason your opponent does not agree with you is due to obstinacy or stupidity. 

Pause, if you dare, at such moments, and contemplate that your opponent may have an equally sure sense of his or her own perspective--because he/she, like you, is seeing it from inside, with sympathy. In this frame of mind, the universe freely offers evidence to support one's own vantage point. Everything forms a kind of gestalt that confirms this particular conception of how reality holds together. 

Also, in argument, there are occasionally moments when it feels like you are being grossly misunderstood and unfairly attacked. Your position is being presented in an unfair light (maybe even perverted), and the arguments your opponent is refuting seem to be only bad parodies, straw men, of what you are actually trying to say. "How dare my opponent choose such an inadequate representation of what I'm trying to say ... and then to think that, in refuting that, he/she is successfully refuting me!" you protest. 

Again, at one of those moments, pause (only if you dare) and consider that your opponent him/herself may feel almost identically concerning the way you are handling his or her position. Whether or not you believe you are you are engaging primarily the least respectable representations of your opponent's position, that may be exactly what they perceive you to be doing--just as it seems (to you) that they are doing to you. 

It is sometimes clear only to someone outside the argument entirely, looking in, how much your assurance of being right is a mirror image of your opponent's assurance of being right, and how much your indignation at how unfairly your position is being portrayed and handled is a mirror image, also. 

"I hear what you're saying," I can hear you replying to me, "but in this case, in this argument, I really am right! My opponent really is wrong!" 

Exactly. 

This is not an attempt to say that all positions are equal, in terms of truth content, but a call to recognize that, much more than we realize, our perception of being right is conditioned by subjective factors that the other side is equally privileged to and plagued by. At the very least, it might encourage a welcomed increase of humility. 

Grant to me that the value of life and humanity is established by something deeper than what facts and rationality can explain, and I will grant to you that facts and rationality are indispensable in pursuing an existence that honors the value of life and humanity.

Fixing: what we do to things that need repair.

Healing: a mysterious process, involving living things; we can establish and honor conditions which ensure healing is nourished and not obstructed, but the healing itself is a mystery that proceeds according to principles we barely understand.

Two radically different processes for two different kinds of problems. In our culture, we focus almost exclusively on the first. "How do I fix it?" we say to the doctor or therapist. It is a mistake to approach healing-oriented concerns as though they require fixing. We undoubtedly like the sense of control we feel when we are in "fix it" mode--while healing necessarily entails patience, and trust in processes beyond our own ability.

Groups that want to change the world ought to consider how much more effective it is to do so through acts of kindness than acts of terror. Terror can inspire fear and compliance. It can never inspire love. 

The fantasy, whether open or secret, that the world (or even your town or neighborhood, for that matter) will or should come around to your way of thinking, removes--were it fulfilled--the discomfort and opportunity of contending with the radically "other." To me, that represents a loss. 

Many faith traditions, including some life perspectives which can be described as atheist-humanistic, recognize that civility and kindness lived-out towards those who are different from one's self speaks more highly of one's integrity than when kindness is reserved only for those who are essentially similar. In Christianity, this idea is embodied in these words of Christ:

"You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Mt. 5:43-48).

To my mind, pluralism, far from being merely a transitory intermediate state that must be tolerated until the ideal kingdom arrives, is perhaps the best possible arrangement in which love and respect for the radically other can be practiced. It requires adherents of different faith communities and life perspectives to measure their virtue not just by how they fulfill the practices internal to their own group, but by how well they can navigate the sea of broader humanity--including when that doesn't accommodate one's own perspective in a cozy, convenient way. It also can nurture and enliven particular faith communities in their activities of gathering together for worship, fellowship, or service, as individuals help each other not only towards fulfilling practices specific to their tradition, but in understanding how these practices relate to the task of being a positive presence in the world--when "world" includes many who will not clap for you simply because you satisfied various religious commitments, except to the extent those translate successfully to the common language of human goodness and decency. The world (rightly, I think) considers hypocritical a spirituality that bears fruit whose sweetness can be tasted only by insiders to the tradition.

So, if you espouse hope for a world in which everyone eventually has the same beliefs, even if those beliefs are mine, that's a world I'd rather not live in. A world made up of people with diverse perspectives, who are learning to refine themselves and their tradition through criteria which include the ceaseless requirement of tolerance and kindness towards others, strikes me as far more interesting, life-giving, and true.

Without apology to those who may find this statement confusing, misleading, dangerous, or unnecessarily complex, I nonetheless declare--especially underlined by the week's events: 
Secularism is a critical aspect of my religion. It is unashamedly, inextricably woven into the network of experiences and thoughts from which I speak my theology, and attempt to affirm that which is highest of all.

The world becomes more and more a global village, in which we can't merely move away physically from every one who might have a perspective radically different from our own. Both immigration and the flow of information through the Internet make such an idea obsolete. For better or worse, in the concrete world or the virtual one, we are forced to be side-by-side with a wide variety of "neighbors." If my neighbor happens to be someone who supports the imposition of Sharia law, I picture the conversation like this--

Neighbor: "Your yard sign offends me. I would like you to remove it." 

Me: "That concerns me much. We are neighbors and will need to interact on a nearly daily basis. I am eager to not offend you, if I can help it at all. Please explain your concerns to me. I may indeed be willing to take down my sign if it is something that needlessly gets in the way of our possible friendship."

Neighbor: "If you don't remove it, I will kill you."

Me: "Well, that changes everything. I cannot take it down now without becoming your slave. I'm not willing to do that. I (dare I say 'we') cannot live in a world where we kill each other merely for disagreeing."

Such is the difficulty we face in this conversation we now find ourselves part of. We did not ask for it--but this is indeed the conversation we are in.

We often have the illusion that our interventions into problematic situations are somehow exempt from being, themselves, causes of further problematic situations.

In our culture, the most terrifying thing, defended against with distraction, drugs, addiction, entertainment, pornography, consumerism, food, acquisition, politics, and war – but mostly by constant talking – is the heartfelt thought and awareness: "I don't know." 

We have yet to scratch the surface of what might lie beyond the gate of this admission, seemingly guarded by Cerberus, the multi-headed dog, and by cherubim with flaming swords.

A Meditation on Christmas, Feast of the Nativity

You likely hope to find in me qualities you associate with being a good friend, just as I hope to find these in you. Perhaps we are hard-wired to expect goodness and kindness from others, and feel disappointed--or devastated--when we do not find them. 

Looked at through the lens of Christian theology, such expectations could be said to be rooted in the understanding that we humans are created in the image of God. We expect to see something of God in each other, and feel let down when that is not the case. We want friends to care about us with some of the qualities we associate with divine friendship. As children, we hope for mothers and fathers who are healthy, who can convey life-nurturing structure and care. As citizens, we hope our leaders can govern with compassion and wisdom. When qualities like these come through, we are expressing our divine origins. 

I am entirely certain that, in my own case, these qualities are often obscured. I come from a species, culture, society, family, and a life of personal choices, that conspire to distort the pure image and render it unrecognizable. This fact contributes to the passing on of a tragic heritage, in which our images of God become more and more confused and distorted, because the bearers and transmitters of that image (we ourselves) do a poorer and poorer job of embodying it for each other. This contributes to a vicious cycle. 

This brings us to an ancient way of reflecting on the meaning of the birth of Christ. The reason Christ came, according to this view, is so that this image of God, which has become so obscured in us, could be renewed--by coming into contact with the original, the prototype, of that image of God himself. The incarnation of Christ is the occasion of humanity coming into renewed contact with the seal and impress of the image in which it was made in the beginning. The celebration of this event is the opportunity to open ourselves to this incarnate reminder of who we are, but have forgotten and lost touch with. 

As part of this process, I apologize and ask forgiveness for ways in which I have perpetuated the distortion of God's image in myself. I also express my resolve to work towards being a truer bearer and conveyer of that image. 

I realize this expression of the meaning of Christmas may not be one that you share. Christmas may mean something very different to you, or mean nearly nothing at all. If so, I do not fault or begrudge you for that. I don't believe that puts you one iota out of step with the humanity we share together. I hope and pray that, whatever the day means or does not mean to you, that it may nonetheless be a good one for you, and that you find every blessing to help you in your own discovery of what it means to live a love-filled and fulfilling life. 

Merry Christmas!

Legend tells us the musicians on the Titanic continued to play until the ship went down, even forgoing their opportunity to escape on life-boats. As I now round nearly fifty years of life, I realize their act communicates something essential about the nature of music: At moments when it seems the rest of the world may be, in some sense, going to hell, the harmony we discover within and between ourselves communicates something just as essential, and conveys as much truth about what really is, as does the surrounding chaos. Realizing this about music tells me, also, something important about life.
Sometimes, it is time to retreat into music; in doing so, we are only again--in a different way--retreating back into life.

(Following the above post, a friend asked me if I could explain the source of music's psychological appeal. I answered as follows:)

I don't know if I can focus on the specifics you are asking about. I'm thinking of it more in terms of music expressing part of the field of existence--and that it has every bit as much capacity and authority to convey information about what is real as does any other purportedly real-world happening, including chaos. It is not the case that the sense of life, connection, etc., conveyed in experience of music is merely an illusory escape, because it is just as much an instance of life as whatever else may compete for the name, "reality," at that moment. Music represents, usually, the bringing together of some of our higher human instincts and abilities along with a measure of society. Many other things (war and barbarism, for example) seem intent to convince us that they reveal something more fundamentally real and necessary than mere music. It is that which I am challenging in my statement. Musicians on the Titanic could point to their music and claim (every bit as much as the waves, the screams, and mayhem around them could): "This is what is real. This is what holds meaning." There is nothing absurd in that.
With regard to what kind of music is capable of doing this, I deliberately refrain from mentioning specifics. That would take away the openness of the proposition I am trying to make here.

With regard to your question about what is at the "root": I suspect it is due to the fact we possess natural affinity to rhythm, cycle, and syncopation, because our own physiology operates according to such patterns--and, we are embedded in larger natural systems (as well as being the host for smaller systems) that operate according to these same music-like laws. Music does not introduce rhythm, harmony, and resonance to us. It merely brings them to our conscious attention, and allows us to participate in them in ways that affirm both our connection to broader natural cycles as well as our distinction from them. I think this is a highly orienting activity, from the standpoint of our identity as living things, humans, and individual persons--and potentially very comforting. 
Maybe that begins to address your question.

As soon as we label someone as utterly different from ourselves, we relinquish the challenge (and opportunity) of understanding what their behaviors can teach us about ourselves.

Although our desire to rush is understandable, some growth and development – physical, psychological, spiritual – simply depends on time. 
We might imagine cooking a meal, and thinking we can do everything the recipe requires at a faster than usual pace. That only works until it comes to the point of putting things in the oven. From then on, time cannot be bypassed. For many things in life, a period of time – sometimes more extended than feels comfortable – just is one of the essential ingredients.

One condition for feeling good about self is actually doing things you can feel good about.

The illusion that we can do something to someone else without also, in some sense, doing it to ourselves is the source of all kinds of evil.

The man who lives, virtually, 
at the edge of the public park
I drive past every day--
bundled up in layers, with plastic-
covered amenities--
causing me to wonder,
"Is he warm?
Is he hungry?
Is he lonely?
Is he safe?
Should I stop?
Should I stop?"
preaches
more eloquently
than he knows.

If we don't know what we don't know, it is possible to be under the illusion that we are quite smart.